oOo
"Jean-Luc, would you care to join me for dinner tonight?"
Picard hesitated only a fraction of a second before continuing to walk beside Beverly Crusher. "I don't see why not," he replied carefully, trying hard to suppress a note of surprise at her completely unexpected invitation. Their dinners were usually formal occasions, with the dates carefully chosen and invitations extended well in advance of the actual events, unlike their more relaxed, impromptu breakfasts together before a duty shift. For Crusher to ask him to dinner at the last minute indicated a certain amount of urgency, for all the casual tone in which the invitation was extended. And such urgency, implied or overt, could only be met with immediate assent. Especially if it had something to do with whatever had been on her mind the last time they shared a dinner, something she hadn't even alluded to since that night. Just as she hadn't alluded to Kesspryt since that same night. Picard couldn't shake the feeling that the two things were somehow connected, but was forced to admit that the only evidence he had to back up such a theory was the fact that both had been on Beverly's mind on the same night. Coincidence was just as likely, he concluded, distracted from the current conversation by speculation on the past.
But while he was distracted, Beverly was more focused this afternoon. "Good," she was saying while his thoughts strayed down speculative paths. "I'll see you about an hour after shift's end, then." After those abrupt words, she veered off down a side corridor leading to the biolabs without so much as a good-bye or another look.
Picard stopped and followed her with his eyes until she rounded a corner and escaped his sight. Then he returned to his original destination-his Ready Room-to meet Deanna Troi and Will Riker for review of the annual crew evaluations. Beverly Crusher, no matter how intriguing, would have to be put out of his mind.
For now.
oOo
"Jean-Luc, I have something to tell you."
Ah, finally. Picard straightened subtly in his seat, leaning forward just enough to let Crusher know that he was giving her his full and undivided attention. His expression showed sincere concern and interest, and, he hoped, none of the uneasiness he was beginning to feel. It had taken her all evening to come to the point--to even admit that she had a point to come to--and he didn't want to frighten her away by so much as a hint of impatience. "I hope there's nothing wrong," he ventured. A safe enough response.
"It all depends on your point of view," she replied, her voice reflective. Pensive, almost. "Robin Leffler came to see me about a week ago."
Leffler, Leffler…ah yes, he had it now. "Ensign Leffler from Engineering," Picard offered, to show that he was, indeed, aware of the young lady's identity. Of course, it would be difficult to forget someone who'd help save not only his ship but possibly the entire Federation from an insidious invasion attempt; the problem was, there were so many such attempts involving his crew, that it was often difficult to keep track of which crewmember deserved credit during which emergency... "Is something wrong with her? Is she ill?" She hadn't missed any duty that Geordi had reported, nor did he recall seeing anything about her in Geordi's weekly reports. Even so, something must be wrong for the ensign to have spoken to Crusher about it.
"Nothing more serious that impending motherhood," came Crusher's surprising reply.
Picard bit back his automatic response, because he could tell there was more going on here than met the eye. His CMO would not have felt constrained to invite him to dinner merely to discuss a crewmember's pregnancy. Even if that pregnancy were going to cause that crewmember to leave active duty, all he would normally expect to receive would be a report from their commanding officer and a request for leave or, more rarely, a transfer. Or direct notice of intent from the crewmember in question. It wasn't something Crusher would be expected to discuss with him in so...intimate...a setting as a candlelit dinner in her private quarters.
"I had to wait to talk to you about it until Robin made up her mind as to what she wanted to do," Crusher continued after a moment. "And of course until she said it was all right to tell anyone." She stared moodily at her wine glass before lifting it to her lips, pausing briefly before adding, "I guess I just don't know how I feel about becoming a grandmother."
There it was, the other shoe. Picard's hand had been reaching for his own glass, and the movement was arrested for a startled moment before he completed it, lifting the glass and sipping before trusting himself to respond to her off-hand statement. "Beverly, are you telling me that Wesley is the father?"
Crusher nodded. "Needless to say, it took me rather by surprise. It took Robin by surprise too," she continued. "She didn't realize the contraceptive implant was defective until she was nearly two months pregnant. And of course my son isn't exactly easily accessible these days."
Finally, an emotion Picard could pinpoint in her carefully neutral tones: concerned unhappiness. "Which is why you asked me to locate Wesley last week," he concluded. "So he could be made aware of the circumstances." Crusher nodded. "Well," he remarked cautiously, "it isn't as calamitous a reason as I feared, but certainly a noteworthy one."
"That's an understatement," Crusher muttered as she rose abruptly to her feet. "Like I said, I'm still not sure how I feel about becoming a grandmother, especially with Wesley out of touch. I think that was part of the reason Robin hesitated before making a decision about the baby," she added as she stood there, tapping absently on the back of her chair, lost in thought. "I'm just glad she's the type to make up her mind quickly."
Picard watched her cross the room to stand framed by the boundless view of space afforded through the large viewport over the sofa, and felt his breath catch at the beauty of the unconscious pose she struck. He could have continued watching her indefinitely, following the curve of her body against the sparkling backdrop of stars flashing by them at warp speed, the arrangement of her hair, the elegant extension of her legs revealed by the mid-thigh length of the front of her dress, but she broke the spell she'd unknowingly cast by speaking. "It's funny."
"What is?" Picard asked as he joined her by the window, turning his gaze through sheer force of will toward the stars streaking by and not the woman standing next to him.
"It's funny how things never seem to turn out the way we plan," she replied, her tone meditative.
"I can tell you from personal experience that children seldom want or do exactly what we plan for them," Picard offered in response, momentarily distracted by painful memories of his own childhood. "I know I certainly disappointed my father with my decision to join Starfleet--"
"That's not what I meant," Crusher interrupted, turning toward him and laying her hand on his arm. "At least, not quite. I wasn't just talking about Wesley." She took a deep breath. "I was talking about us as well. About Kesspryt."
Ah, Kesspryt. The tiny seed of hope he had for this conversation was finally blossoming, and without any need of a hint from him; patience was finally being rewarded. Patience that had been sorely tested when he arrived at the doctor's quarters and saw that she was wearing the same dress she'd worn the night after their return from Kesspryt, the same shoes, even the same hairstyle. But she'd given no indication that she expected him to say anything beyond the usual compliments, so he'd held his tongue. It had been difficult, but he'd managed to restrict himself to telling her how wonderful she looked. A compliment she'd thanked him for before changing the subject from her appearance to dinner with a deftness that indicated deliberate intent.
Crusher released her grasp and lowered herself to sit on the sofa, her eyes inviting him to join her. "In what way?" Picard asked, keeping his voice carefully neutral as he took her up on that invitation, although he kept a certain amount of distance between them. Far enough to keep her from feeling uncomfortable, but near enough to allow her to close the gap if she so chose.
"It's been on my mind, especially now," Crusher began, then stopped uncertainly.
Picard nodded. "You mean now that you're officially on the way to becoming a grandmother, is that it?"
Crusher nodded gratefully. "On the nose, as Nana Howard used to say." She paused, briefly this time. Gathering her thoughts. "I suddenly find myself examining my life, certain decisions I've made, and questioning them. Especially decisions reached after our experiences on Kesspryt. I want you to know that I had no intention of walking out on you like that," she continued, fingering the edge of her dress nervously. "In fact, I had rather different plans for that evening." A wry smile. "As I'm sure you did."
Picard returned her smile as he inclined his head. "Perhaps. Although to be honest, I'm not certain what my intentions were. Certainly not to...chase you off."
"It wasn't your fault," Crusher replied softly. "Actually, it was me." Picard raised a questioning eyebrow, encouraging her to continue. "When we were still linked together on Kesspryt and you told me your feelings toward me had changed, that you were no longer in love with me, I know you sensed mixed emotions from me, or you wouldn't have approached me later. True?"
He nodded. "I thought I felt both disappointment and relief, otherwise what almost happened that night would never have happened," he agreed. "Normally I don't act so impulsively, but it just seemed to be the right time. Obviously I was wrong."
"Only about the timing," Crusher stressed. "I knew why you asked me over, I thought I was ready, but I found myself panicking once the moment arrived, when you suggested exploring our feelings again." She broke eye contact by turning her head the slightest bit and pretending a sudden interest in the flower arrangement on the low table in front of the sofa. "I realized I'd reconciled myself to our relationship remaining as it was, and suddenly you were saying it didn't have to be that way. I'm afraid I wasn't quite as ready to face that possibility as I thought I was. So I left, after sending out very mixed signals." She let out her breath in an almost sigh as she forced her eyes back to meet his. "I'm sorry."
"As am I," Picard echoed her quietly.
Crusher raised her eyebrows in surprise. "For what? For not pressing me into something I wasn't ready for?"
"For being afraid that it was Jack that suddenly came between us," he replied simply.
Crusher stared at him, taken aback both by the unexpected confession and by the naked vulnerability of Picard's eyes. "You thought I turned you down because of Jack?"
"It seemed to make the most sense," Picard admitted. "I know you've never blamed me for his death," he continued quietly, "but it's taken me a long time to reach that point. I've always blamed myself, and I've questioned my actions and decisions many times. Questioned whether there was something else that could have been done, whether my feelings for you had colored my judgment..." His voice trailed off, and this time he was the one who broke eye contact as he rose abruptly to his feet and moved toward the door. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you that."
"No, you should have," Crusher disagreed as she, too, came to her feet. She stopped his attempt at flight with a gentle hand on his shoulder. He gave in to the pressure that insisted he turn and face her once again. "Jean-Luc, you let me run away from this conversation once, and maybe that was good and maybe it wasn't, but I don't think it would be a good idea for either of us to run away from it now."
For the briefest of moments she thought he might leave anyway, in spite of the challenge--and subtle plea--in her words. But she felt the sudden release of tension in his shoulders as he nodded, and knew that he had accepted that challenge. "You're right."
"Of course I'm right; haven't you ever heard that doctors and mothers are never wrong?" Crusher asked lightly. "That means I'm right twice as often!" Her tone turned serious again. "We've both said some things that needed saying for a long time. And if you can stand to hear it from me, then I can certainly stand to hear it from you."
"Agreed." Picard kept his own tone solemn, letting her know that he understood how serious she was, in spite of her attempts at humor.
"I have to confess that Kesspryt wasn't the first time I wondered about our relationship," Crusher said. "There were a few times before then that I almost came close to telling you how confused I was about my feelings toward you, how I thought there might be something more than friendship between us, but each time was a moment of desperation, when I thought there might never be a chance to tell you again. And each time, something happened to interrupt, and the moment was lost. As was my courage," she added with a wan smile.
Picard went absolutely still, his eyes betraying the hope her words gave him as he gently asked, "And now I take it you've found your courage again?"
Crusher nodded. "I think we've both been hiding behind ghosts and letting our past get in the way of our future. I never blamed you for Jack, and I never turned away from you because of Jack, but I was hiding behind him in a different sense."
"How so?" The question was cautiously asked; Picard knew what dangerous ground they were both walking on now, the conversational thin ice they were treading; one misstep, one false move, and all would be lost. He couldn't shake the fear that the ghosts Beverly had mentioned would continue to haunt them, unless they exorcised them now, all at once, which was completely unreasonable.
Or was it? It was becoming increasingly obvious that they'd both spent a considerable amount of time thinking about the things they were telling each other tonight; perhaps it could all be brought out, examined, and laid to rest. It was certainly a risk he was willing to take.
"I told myself on more than one occasion that I simply could not handle that kind of loss again, even the mere potential for that kind of loss," Crusher explained as she leaned against the bulkhead, arms crossed less defensively than in an instinctive warming motion. "I knew I would have to face the possibility once Wesley graduated, but he changed all the rules on me when he left with the Traveler. Suddenly I couldn't hide behind Jack's death as a way to keep myself from getting too close to anyone. Wesley wasn't going to become a Starfleet officer, and even if he did, his new-found abilities made it clear to me that worrying about him dying in the line of duty was pointless."
"But you could still lose him," Picard felt constrained to point out. "He hasn't become a god."
"No, of course not," Crusher quickly agreed. "But it was enough to get me thinking, or rather, re-thinking the choices I'd made in my own life. I started to feel ashamed of myself for hiding, for distancing myself, but it still wasn't quite enough to push me over the emotional brink. No, it took something as mundane as a pregnancy to make me realize what all that emotional distance was doing to me. To see what I was missing." Picard watched in amazement as the subtle tension that had framed her all evening evaporated, literally before his eyes. She smiled, stretched, and rejoined him on the sofa. "Now that we've got all our doubts and fears out in the open," she concluded, unconsciously echoing his own thoughts, "perhaps it's time to banish them. What do you think?"
"I think," Picard said, his voice equally soft, "that it sounds like a marvelous idea. And long past due."
Crusher closed the small distance that was all that separated them now, placing her lips against his for a gentle, exploratory kiss. A kiss that was everything--and much more--than they'd ever hoped or dreamed.
A little while later, reluctantly, Picard pulled away and studied Beverly as if he'd never seen her before. She returned his gaze unflinchingly, a small smile hovering about the edges of her eyes and lips as she toyed with his collar, long fingers moving unerringly for the small pressure spots that would allow his uniform top to be easily removed. He returned that smile, but allowed it to fade as he focused on her clear blue eyes and placed his hands over hers. Stopping them. "Are we rushing things?"
The question startled Crusher; she pulled away from him, leaning back to study his face but not removing her hands from beneath his. "Rushing things, Jean-Luc?" She shook her head and smiled as she released the seam on his uniform. "I'd say we've both been waiting far too long, letting things get in the way of what we both were afraid to admit we wanted. Let's not fall into that trap again." She paused long enough to finish opening his top before saying simply: "I love you, Jean-Luc Picard, Captain of the Enterprise. I have no doubts at all."
"And I love you, Beverly Howard Crusher, CMO of the Enterprise," he replied, pulling her back into his embrace. "That's all I needed to hear."
