A/N: This story was written in 1998. I recently came across it in my archive and thought I'd post it for posterity.

Disclaimer: Paramount owns every single aspect of the Star Trek universe. I do not. But, the story and kissy ideas are mine.

Note: I'm a true Titanic fan (1986) and was one way before Cameron came out with his movie, which is very good. But, this idea was floating around in my head and I thought you folks might enjoy it. Any Danny Kaye fans will recognize the "toast" scene from "A Song Is Born." I love comments, so send them my way!

He had seen her twice before. Once, while docked in Southhampton, as new passengers boarded Titanic, and then again, two evenings ago on A-deck. He had watched her, unobserved, as she strolled up and down the deck, occasionally greeting a passing passenger, but mostly enjoying the solitude. He had been taken aback by her beauty The moon had hung high overhead that night, bathing her in its crystal glow. A sharp intake of breath, on his part, had followed when it cast upon her auburn hair, reflecting and shimmering in the moonlight.

And now, here he was tonight, dressed in a black tuxedo, complete with tails, cufflinks, and a black bowtie. A top hat in one hand and a cane in the other defined the look.

His gaze followed her across the room, taking in her appearance. She, for her part, represented the cream of the social elite. A satin gown of dark green fell off her shoulders and pooled at her ankles. Her hair, done in small ringlets, framed her face; emeralds sat on her elegant throat, contrasting sharply with her creamy white skin.

As she turned to greet someone, he noticed her eyes for the first time. The were pools of blue. A blue as bright and clear as the ocean on a tranquil day. Eyes a man could get lost in. He wanted to know. He needed to know, so finally, he asked.

"J.J. Who is that exquisite woman over there?"

Astor raised his eyes to where Picard was staring. A smile came to his lips when he realized who Picard was referring to.

"Ah. That is Mrs. Beverly Crusher."

"Mrs.?" he echoed, disappointment filling his voice.

"Yes. Recently widowed, though. Her husband was killed several months ago. An explosion, I believe."

A frown crossed Picard's face. "How tragic," he murmured. "And she's traveling all alone? That isn't safe."

Astor laughed as Picard's gaze lingered on her.

"Go introduce yourself, man. The worst she can do is say no," he boomed, clapping him on the back.

Picard started forward, then stopped, turning back around.

"Maybe I shouldn't. She does, after all, look quite a bit younger than me," he pointed out, searching for an excuse.

Astor merely laughed.

"I didn't let that stop me, did I?"

Jean-Luc's face reddened, slightly embarrassed. Regaining his composure, he straightened his dinner jacket. "Of course, you're right, J.J."

"I always am, Picard. Now, go over there!"

With one last backward glance at Astor, Picard began making his way to where the auburn haired beauty sat.

xxx

"Excuse me."

Beverly lifted her gaze to the gentleman standing before her. Her eyes took in his chiseled features, his lean frame. Strong cheekbones, prominent forehead, and a compact, but most definitely defined body. But, what really caught her attention were his eyes. A soft hazel, almost green tonight, and so warm and inviting. She tore herself away

from her study of him.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry for interrupting you, but I couldn't help but notice you from across the room. A woman as beautiful as yourself shouldn't be sitting here all alone on a ship such as this."

"Oh, really?" Her eyes lit up in amusement.

"Quite certain. May I?" He gestured to the empty chair, opposite her. She eyed him thoughtfully. "I'm not sure. After all, I don't even know your name."

"How thoughtless of me. Where are my manners? Capitaine de vaisseau Jean- Luc Picard, La Royale," he replied, in what he hoped what a suave manner, and took her hand and raising it to his lips.

"A Navy man?" she smiled.

"Yes," he replied, smiling back.

"My mother warned me about sailors," she told him, a serious look on her face. His features fell at that statement.

"Fortunately for you," Beverly continued, "I was never one to listen to my mother. Please," she gestured, "join me."

The smile returned and he sat down across from her. "Thank you. Might I order you something to drink?"

"Yes, I'd like that."

Looking around, he motioned for a waiter. The man appeared at their table. "Yes, sir? What may I help you with?"

"I'd like a white wine for this lovely woman and something burgundy for myself."

"Any particular vintage, sir?"

He thought for a moment. "Do you have any of the Picard wines?"

Beverly's eyebrow lifted.

"Of course, sir."

"Very well. Make it the '52."

"An excellent selection, sir. I will be back shortly."

Picard watched as the waiter hurried off, then turned as Beverly spoke.

"Picard vintage?"

"Yes, my family owns a vineyard in LeBarre. A family business, one might say," he said, by way of explanation.

"And yet, here you are, a Naval Captain."

Jean-Luc didn't miss the teasing tone in her voice.

"Let's just say that I didn't take to it. Robert, my older brother, he's the vintner."

"Your drinks, madam, sir." They both looked up as the waiter placed their glasses in front of them. "Will there be anything else?"

"No, this will do nicely." Picard handed him a coin.

"Thank you, sir." He pocketed the tip and hurried away.

"So," Beverly smiled, raising the glass to her lips, "I'm sure that as a Captain, you've seen many beautiful sights throughout the world."

"None that can compare to the beauty before me," he murmured, gazing into her eyes.

Beverly's eyes met his, taking in their seriousness. She swallowed, slowly replacing her glass to the table, and mentally cursing herself for the blush she knew was coloring her face.

Mistaking her silence for discomfort, Picard glanced down. "I'm sorry. I did not intend any disrespect to you, Mrs. Crusher. I was –"

Beverly looked at him curiously and interrupted. "How do you know my name?" Now it was Picard's turn to blush.

"I ... um," he cleared his throat. "I asked around."

The smiled returned to Beverly's lips. "I'm flattered."

Relief shone across his face and he replied, "I'm grateful that you're flattered."

She laughed at his comment. Keeping his gaze on her, he emptied his glass.

"I hope you don't think it too forward of me, but would you care to join me for a stroll on the boat deck?" he asked.

He watched as a smile crept to her lips.

"I'd love to."

Rising from his chair, he offered Beverly his arm. She rose and took it, tucking her arm through his. J.J. Astor just watched, from across the room, and smiled.

xxx

"It's a lovely night, don't you think?"

Jean-Luc gazed at his companion, watching in jealous envy as the sea breeze washed across her face, lifting her hair in a gentle caress.

"It is at that," he replied, wistfully.

She glanced at him curiously. "So tell me, Mr. Picard. What's a Captain in the Royal Navy doing on a ship headed for America?"

"At the urging of my second-in-command." He chuckled. "I am, as he put it, taking a well-deserved and much needed vacation. And please, call me Jean-Luc."

"Only if you agree to call me Beverly."

"Agreed." He regarded her for moment and shook his head.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"It's something," she pushed. "Please. Tell me."

"I can't help but notice how different you are from the others."

"Different?" she echoed, puzzled.

"Not that it's a negative, you understand," he quickly amended. "It's just that you're so-" he paused, searching for the right words, "so amicable. Gregarious, perhaps."

She smiled at him. "Thank you. I could say the same of you."

She frowned at him as he began laughing. "What? What's so funny about that?"

"I'm sorry Beverly. Really I am. It's just that those who work with me would be the first to dispute that statement."

"And why's that?"

"Most people find me reserved, engrossed in my work – and they are right. I am."

"Yes. I've seen those very qualities in the few hours we've spent together," she rolled her eyes.

"No, it's true," he insisted. "At least, it was before tonight." He paused.

"I don't know what it is. I cannot explain it."

"Explain what?"

"You."

"Me?"

"Yes. I don't know why, but I feel completely at ease with you. It's almost as if I've known you for years. It sounds ludicrous, I know ..." his voice trailed off, staring at the sea.

"No," she spoke softly.

He turned to her. "No?"

"No," she repeated, gazing at him. "It doesn't. I felt it too. I can't explain it, but with you, I feel ... safe."

She averted her eyes, a blush filling her cheeks, as he stared at her.

"I am pleased to hear you say that," he told her, his voice low.

"As am I."

A few moments, as they both watched the ocean, drinking in the beauty of it...the magic of the moment.

"It's getting late," he murmured.

"Yes, it is."

"Let me escort you to your cabin."

"I'd like that."

His lips curled into a small smile and he took her arm, linking it through his own. Beverly smiled as his hand came to rest atop hers.

"What cabin are you in?"

"A-72."

"Really?" he asked in mild surprise.

"Yes. Is it so hard to believe that I can afford a first-class cabin?" she teased.

"No, of course not," he said in consternation.

Beverly grinned as his eyebrows came together in concern. "I was only teasing, Jean-Luc," she laughed. "I think I'm beginning to understand your friends' assessment of your reserved nature."

He threw her a sharp glance and then relaxed when he saw the sparkle in her eyes.

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that," he replied in a light tone. "I was merely surprised at how close our cabins are. I'm in A-76."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"And yet, until tonight, I haven't seen you," she commented.

"Well, truth be told, I haven't been out of my cabin all that much. An occasional stroll at night."

"More of that reserved personality, no doubt."

"Guilty as charged," he replied with a smile.

"Hmm. We'll just have to see about fixing that."

He could barely keep the grin off his face at that remark and prayed fervently that Beverly wouldn't notice.

She did. Smiling to herself, she decided not to acknowledge it, lest it cause him embarrassment.

xxx

"Here we are," he announced when they found themselves standing in front of their quarters.

Beverly smiled. "Thank you for the wonderful evening, Jean-Luc. I'm so glad you

introduced yourself."

"So am I, and it was my pleasure, Beverly."

A silence fell and they gazed at each other, neither wanting the evening to end.

"I should retire for the evening," Beverly told him softly.

"Yes."

Neither of them moved.

"Jean-Luc?"

"Yes?"

"I'm still standing here, aren't I?"

"So, it would seem," he answered with a soft laugh.

"That's what I was afraid of."

"Afraid? Why?"

"Because, earlier tonight, when we were on the boat deck, I told myself that I would say goodnight and retire to my cabin. I wouldn't stay out here."

He watched her.

"I told myself I wouldn't kiss you."

His eyes widened in amazement.

"And yet, here I am, standing with you, my heart betraying me."

Picard was speechless. Beverly glanced at him and laughed nervously.

"See, now I've scared you."

He snapped back to reality. "No ... no, it's not that. I just ... Beverly, I –"

"It's all right, Jean-Luc. I understand."

"No, I don't think you do," he began.

"Please, don't. I'm a widow, in her forties. I shouldn't have expected ..." she paused, embarrassed. "... what I was expecting."

She reached for the doorknob. A strong hand covered hers, pulling it away. She lowered her head.

"Please, Jean-Luc. Don't make this more embarrassing for me than it already is."

He watched, her back to him, but said nothing. She waited, certain he'd release her hand. But he didn't.

"Jean-Luc –" the words died in her throat as she turned around to find his lips mere inches away from hers. She watched as he came closer and then closed her eyes as his lips met hers in a tentative kiss.

He was pleased to discover the sweet taste her lips carried. So soft and full. He backed her against the door, moving his hands to her waist. She sighed at the contact. Seizing the opportunity, he gently, but insistently probed at her closed lips. Delight filled him as she

yielded to him and parted her mouth, opening it to his. He was precise in his exploration. Tracing her teeth, running his tongue along the roof of her mouth...it was heaven. Slowly, he ended the

kiss, pulling away from her lips, reluctantly.

"That was nice," Beverly breathed, a bit dazed.

"I'm glad you thought so," he chuckled, rubbing his nose against hers.

Behind them, her hand found the doorknob. He looked up at the sound of her cabin door opening. His eyes questioned hers. She merely smiled and took a step back through the open door, pulling him in. Once inside, she leaned over, shutting the door.

"Beverly?"

"Jean-Luc."

He glanced around, taking in her cabin.

"I hope you don't think it too forward of me," she said coyly, echoing his earlier words.

Picard could only stare, speechless, as Beverly walked across the room and sat down on the couch.

"Care to join me?" she asked, patting the space next to her.

Disbelief turned into delight as he slowly approached her. Sitting down, he looked over.

"Beverly, I must confess. I don't know quite what to say."

"Then don't say anything at all," she replied and drew him into a kiss. It was sweet and gentle, yet at the same time filled with a desire and urgency. A small escaped Beverly's lips as Picard leaned her onto the headrest, her body coming to rest underneath his. She allowed herself to become lost in the sensations he was creating.

Picard smiled at Beverly's reaction. Deepening the kiss, he brought a hand up, spreading it over her waist. Moving his lips, he began trailing a path down her neck and over her shoulders. Beverly moved her hands over his back, tracing various patterns through his jacket. Her fingers rose and began playing with the short fringe of hair that adorned his head. The movement elicited a moan from Picard. He brought himself back up to eye level with her.

"Beverly," he whispered.

"Yes, Jean-Luc?" her breath was short and ragged.

"I want to make love to you."

Delight coursed through her as his words rumbled in her ear.

"And I want you to," she whispered back, running her hands over his head.

Slowly, he lifted himself from the couch. Gazing up at him, Beverly smiled softly.

"What now, Mr. Picard?"

Laughter filled the room as Jean-Luc leaned over and lifted her into his arms. "I haven't decided yet, Mrs. Crusher. I suppose we'll just have to come up with some ideas of our own. How does that sound?" he asked, walking towards the bedroom.

"Perfect," Beverly sighed. "Absolutely perfect."

The gentle hum of the engines echoed in the cabin, mixing with the soft sound of breathing and the occasional rustling of sheets.

xxx

Thump.

Thump.

Beverly opened her eyes, squinting as daylight invaded her world. Looking down, she saw two arms securely fastened about her waist. She smiled fondly, as the events of the previous night flooded her memory. Lifting her head, she gazed up into the sleeping face of Jean-Luc.

He's so adorable, she thought to herself. Never in her wildest dreams would she have imagined this man to be as passionate as he had been last night. She knew that the French were considered to be connoisseurs of romance, and was true. She'd had a few French lovers before marrying Jack. But, Jean-Luc ... how could she begin to describe it? He'd been so attentive to her needs, her desires. And it had been far beyond anything that mere words could ever do justice to. She knew it couldn't happen, it shouldn't be possible – how can you fall in love with someone in a day? But she was. She knew that she loved this man. A love like she had never known.

"Why the frown?"

Beverly glanced up at the sound of his voice. His hazel eyes sparkled, smiling at her. His mouth met hers in a kiss.

"Well, good morning to you, too," she laughed.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Good morning, Beverly," he grinned.

"Much better."

"I'm glad you think so. Did you have a pleasant night's rest?" he asked, pulling her closer.

"What little I got was."

"Is that a complaint I'm hearing?"

"Most definitely not."

"Good," he replied, laughing. "I'd hate to think you were disappointed in any way."

"Trust me, Jean-Luc. It was 10's across the board," she told him, snuggling into his chest and falling back to sleep.

He watched her, idling running a hand along her side, the other stroking her hair. He couldn't believe that he was actually here with this beautiful creature beside him. Loving him. Love? Was that what this was? It had to be. He had never felt this way with any other woman. True, he'd had his share of encounters in his life – what Naval man didn't? Or any man for that matter. But this ... this was different. Beverly was different. He never thought he'd be attracted to an American woman. He'd always found them egocentric. Concerned only with their status. But this auburn angel was not at all like that. Yes, he loved her. It was most definitely love. But what to do about it? There were only 3 more days until they were to dock in New York City. What then? He frowned. There was only one thing to do.

"Beverly," he nudged her softly.

"Mmm ..."

"Beverly, wake up. I need my arm," he stated more insistently.

"Jean-Luc, it's five am. Go back to sleep."

"Beverly!"

"Okay, okay, I'm awake," she grumbled.

He laughed. "I'm sorry, love, but I need to get dressed," he told her, walking to a chair where his clothes lay.

She cocked an eye open. "Dressed? Whatever for? Planning on going somewhere?"

"Very funny."

"Who said I was kidding?"

"Beverly, as much as I'd like to stay here and make love to you, I do have a few things that require my attention."

Beverly watched as he buttoned his shirt.

"At 5 am? Besides, I thought you were on vacation."

"I am."

"So, what's the problem?"

He threw her a glance. "Breakfast?"

"What about it?"

"Give me an hour, and I'll meet you here for breakfast."

She just looked at him.

He sighed. "I'll even serve it to you in bed."

She gave him an amused stare. He waited, watching her. Finally, she relented. "All right. But it had better be one fantastic breakfast."

"Of course, cherie." He straightened his jacket and walked over to the bed. Leaning down, he caught her lips in a kiss.

"Dream of me," he told her.

"Always."

xxx

Knock.

Knock.

"It's open," Beverly called.

Jean-Luc pushed the cabin door open with one hand, balancing a tray in the other.

"Beverly?" he called out.

"I'm in here, Jean-Luc," she answered from the bedroom.

He walked slowly, careful not to disturb the contents on the tray. Upon entering the bedroom, he smiled. Beverly sat against the headboard, blankets tucked around her. She had obviously been up, for she was now wearing a pink satin nightgown and her hair, brushed out, fell to her shoulders in a soft wave.

"I see you've been up and about," he remarked, coming to the side of the bed.

"Actually, I always look this good when I wake up," she quipped.

He smiled. "I would have to agree."

"Liar. But, you do get points for the effort." Her eyes sparkled.

"I seem to recall promising you breakfast."

"Yes, I believe you did."

He placed the tray in front of her and took a seat on the edge of her bed.

"Breakfast is served."

"It looks delicious," she told him, lifting a cover to reveal eggs and bacon.

"Coffee?"

"Mmm. Please," she nodded, taking a bite of egg.

He poured her a cup and handed it to her. Reaching for the other covered plate, he asked, "Toast?"

"No thanks."

He looked up, a nervous glint in his eyes.

"Are you sure you wouldn't like some toast?" he insisted.

"Positive. Never touch the stuff."

"Not even a bite?"

"No." She glanced at him curiously. "Why are you acting so strange?"

"I couldn't tell you. Not unless you try the toast."

Sighing, she reached over. "Alright. I'll try the toast."

Her gasp filled the room when she opened the cover. Before her, in a black velvet box, sat a diamond ring, surrounded by small emeralds. Breathing softly, she took it and looked at him.

"Jean-Luc," she breathed. "Is this what I think it is?"

"Yes, it is," he told her softly. "I realize at this must seem sudden, most likely ludicrous, but here," he paused, taking her hand and placing it over his heart, "here, it's telling me that this is

right. This is what I want," he finished quietly.

Her eyes filled with tears. She couldn't believe it. This wonderful man was proposing to her. He wanted her to be his wife.

"I don't know what to say," she whispered. "Say you'll marry me, Beverly. That's what I'm asking you. Please," his eyes pleaded with hers. "Marry me."

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Upon opening them, she had made her decision.

"Oh Jean-Luc! Of course, I will!" Throwing her arms around him, she killed him, full on the mouth. He responded, sliding his hand to her neck, holding her still for the kiss. His lips moved across hers, tasting, conquering. He sucked gently on her lower lip, letting it fall each time, only to capture her again in another kiss. As his lips moved down her neck and lower, Beverly sighed not only in response to the sensations he was evoking in her body, but also from the thought of knowing that she was about to join this man on a wonderful journey that would entwine both of their lives together for a long time to come.

xxx

"Welcome to our temporary home, Mrs. Picard."

Beverly giggled in his arms as Jean-Luc stepped over the threshold of his cabin.

"Why thank you, Mr. Picard. Now, are you going to put me down or do you plan on carrying me all over the ship this evening?"

He merely smiled at her and continued to the bedroom. Upon reaching the bed, he lowered her down gently and propped himself up on his elbows, coming to rest over her.

"You were saying?"

"I forgot."

"Good." His lips descended on hers, bringing the conversation to a close.

A few hours later, the two lay curled up in each other's arms, their breathing slowing.

"Jean-Luc?"

"Yes, Beverly."

"I have to admit it."

"What's that?" he questioned.

"This was definitely a good idea."

Beverly listened with pleasure as his laughter filled the room, loving the deep sound. Finally, it died down and he turned to her. "I must agree with you there, love. Although, my men at home are never going to believe this."

"I suppose this does shoot your whole stoic facade act to pieces," she murmured, nuzzling his neck.

"Indeed," he replied. "Speaking of home," he sat up. Beverly glanced at him.

"Yes?"

"I realize that we didn't really stop to discuss this, but where is home going to be? I know where I want you to be, but –" his words fell silent as he focused on her hair, running a hand through it.

"Jean-Luc, I realize that today was quite sudden," she began.

"Believe me, if someone had told me yesterday that today I would be proposed by and married to a Captain in the Royal Navy, I would have laughed in their face. But, I have married you. You're my husband and I will go wherever you go. I won't lie to you and say that I won't miss America, because I will. But if you stay in France, then so will I."

He watched her as she spoke, seeing the love he felt for her reflected in her eyes. Gathering her into his arms, he breathed in deeply. "Beverly, how I love you. You'll never know how happy you make me."

"The feeling is mutual, my love." She curled closer to him, snuggling into his warmth.

"I want to take you to France, Beverly. I want you to see the beautiful countryside, the vineyards ..." He pulled her closer. "I want to show you off to everyone."

She laughed, turning on her side to look at him.

"Aren't you afraid they might not share your enthusiasm, love?" she teased.

"They wouldn't dare," he retorted, grinning.

"Mmm ..." Beverly shrugged noncommittally.

"Are you questioning my authority?" he asked in mock shock.

"Never," she murmured, slowly drifting off to sleep.

Jean-Luc let the conversation drop, content to let her sleep in his arms. There would be plenty more opportunities to "argue" in their future. And he was going to enjoy every one.