Chapter 5

"Jean Luc—I expected you to still be on the ruin at Aloris IV." The face of Admiral Kathryn Janeway had a placid, if expectant look to it as she shook Picard's hand and motioned him to the chair in front of her desk. Offering him some coffee, which he declined, she poured herself a cup and returned to her seat, awaiting his response.

"I was there for eight weeks—an absolutely breath-taking place. They've made several amazing discoveries."

Janeway nodded.

"I can imagine. The Fuezelia culture's disappearance has been a mystery for millennia. This may finally shed some light on their fate."

Picard was impressed.

"I didn't know you were a student of archeology," he told her. She shrugged.

"More anthropology—something I picked up while in the Delta Quadrant. When every race you meet is entirely unknown, you become a quick study in cultures and history."

She fixed him a look.

"So—what can I do for you, Captain? I'm sure you didn't just pop in to say hello."

Picard liked Janeway. She never beat around the bush. As admirals went, she was as straight-forward and honest as they came. Her quick promotion to the rank following her return from the Delta Quadrant was a surprise to no one, and few felt rankled by her leap-frogging to the position. The general consensus was, she had earned it.

Picard knew he had to be as straightforward.

"You're right. This isn't just a social call. I have a request."

"Jean Luc…" she began, trying not to sound exasperated. He knew he'd pushed her nearly as far as he could in the area of special treatment. But this one was by the book.

"This is not a favor, Admiral," Picard assured her. "This falls well within the Starfleet regulation rulebook."

"I'm listening," she replied, sounding somewhat intrigued.

"I would like to request a transfer to the Enterprise for my…" he paused. "Wife."

Kathryn Janeway just stared. Picard smothered a smile. She was as shocked as he had expected her to be. It was a reaction he was getting used to. There was something rather satisfying about it.

"Your…wife?" she finally managed to croak, incredulity dripping from her voice.

"Well, technically, she's not my wife yet—but we will be married by the time we return to the Enterprise," he explained.

Janeway had still barely recovered.

"She's in Starfleet?"

"Yes. She holds the rank of Commander."

"You want her as your First Officer?" Disbelief still rang in Janeway's voice.

"Actually, no. She's a physician. I want her as CMO. She's held the position before," he explained lightly.

Light dawned in Janeway's eyes.

"Beverly Crusher?"

Picard nodded.

"That's right."

"But she's head of Starfleet Medical," Janeway told him, as if he didn't already have that information.

"She is willing to resign that position for a posting back to the Enterprise."

Janeway leaned back in her chair, as if she need the support in order to be able to process what he was telling her.

"Admiral Kranston's nephew is your CMO now, isn't he," she finally said, putting all the pieces together.

"Yes," was all Picard said. He knew he didn't need to belabor the point. Janeway understood what he was asking. Technically, it was by the book. Politically, it was a twelve thousand pound elephant. Janeway knew it. She squinted at him.

"That's not going to be pleasant. You're not going to make any friends under that flag, Jean Luc," she warned him. "But, you're right. Starfleet regs do give captain's spouses preferential postings. I will make the necessary arrangements."

"Thank you, Admiral. I appreciate it." Picard replied sincerely.

Janeway studied him.

"You'd better. Kranston's going to go on a tear when he gets word of this. Well, I'll try to find some bone to throw him. Maybe it will keep him quiet. And I'll…ah… make sure he's out of there before you return to the Enterprise."

She sat back and stared at him further.

"Jean Luc," she finally confessed. "I'm still in shock. Of all the people…." She shook her head.

"Didn't think I had it in me?" he asked with a wry smile.

"It's not that…well, not exactly. You've just always seemed the lone wolf type. No ties. Ready for the next great adventure."

"Perhaps this is the next great adventure, Admiral," suggested Picard.

She eyed him.

"How long were you and your crew together on the Enterprise, Captain?" she asked.

"Nearly sixteen years," he replied, not even having to do the math. She smiled knowingly.

"That's not a crew, Captain. That's a family. Take it from someone who knows." She paused, musing. "When Voyager returned from the Delta Quadrant, it was quite a homecoming."

Picard smiled.

"I recall," he told her.

"We spent nearly seven years out there, Jean Luc," she continued. "Not a day went by that I didn't wish we were home. Not an hour passed where getting home wasn't our single most driving force. Yet, once we'd made it back—once Voyager had slid through that transwarp conduit—I was terrified. Worse—I was lonely. All the people I had depended upon for all of those years—taken away. Reassigned. Promoted. Resigned. Hell…there are days I even miss our Talaxian cook who stayed behind in the Delta Quadrant…and if you'd ever tasted Neelix's food…. Anyway. Some days I find myself thinking perhaps it might have been better to have remained there."

Picard took a deep breath. He had been expecting something like this.

"I understand what you're trying to say, Admiral," he told her. "You're concerned that this is some kind of reaction to the dispersement of my crew. I suppose I would be lying if I didn't acknowledge that my decision was somehow precipitated by those events. And yes, my crew was very much my family. But families grow and they change. And I find it naïve and slightly unfair for people to accept change and growth in other members of my crew, but dismiss changes in me as reactionary and sentimental."

He paused a moment, reflecting.

"I believe I have as much right to grow and explore other avenues of my being as does Captain Riker or Doctor Crusher, or even you, Admiral. You could have chosen to remain in the captain's chair, but you accepted an opportunity to take a different path. For several years now I have come to realize that there was a path in my life that I regret not having pursued. The changes on board the Enterprise twenty months ago helped bring several things into focus for me. My relationship with Dr. Crusher was one of them."

He hadn't meant to launch into a defensive speech, especially since he knew Janeway had always supported him. He'd had enough dealings with the upper brass of Starfleet, however, to know that there were those who had their political photon torpedoes sited on him and the Enterprise. Any misstep or perceived errors of judgment and the Enterprise would be escorting cadets on their first rotation through the Jupiter Run. He was not a tired old commander mourning the past, and he wanted it at least on Janeway's mental record that this was a well-thought-out decision on his behalf. She just didn't need to know that it had been well-thought-out on the conscious level for only about twelve hours.

Janeway regarded him with what he thought to be some measure of respect.

"I stand corrected, Captain," she conceded. "Very well. I will take care of the paperwork."

Picard nodded and rose to leave. Janeway stopped him.

"After today, Jean Luc, nothing will ever surprise me again. And you'd better believe…coming from me, that's saying a lot."

Picard smiled at her, appreciatively.

"Oh…and congratulations, Captain. I wish you all happiness." She offered Picard her hand.

"Thank you, Admiral," he replied, taking it. "I believe I already have it."

Beverly Crusher looked around the nearly empty apartment and sighed. It had never really felt like home, she concluded. It was as if some part of her had always known that her stay here wasn't permanent. No. Home was where she was going. And whom she was going with.

She glanced at the single container waiting by the door. Each time she had left earth for a deep space assignment, she had left parts of her life behind in storage. For her first posting to the Enterprise, she'd put all of Jack's things in storage. She'd held on to them for many years, not willing to part with them. Later on, she was glad she had. As Wesley became old enough, they became a connection to his father, and he had told her more than once how he had appreciated and even treasured those mementos.

On her second posting to the Enterprise, she'd had less to go to storage. Books, mostly. A few artifacts she'd picked up across the galaxy, but decided weren't quite right for her modest quarters back onboard ship.

This time, the storage box was even smaller in size. Not because she was taking so much more with her, but because there was so little to either take or leave behind. She hadn't realized, until she saw her belongings prepared for transfer to storage or to the yacht, just how little of herself she had invested in her living quarters. It was almost as if she had somehow known, on a subconscious level, that she would not be staying here long. Like one of the tribes of ancient nomadic earth cultures, she needed to be able to pack up and leave on a moment's notice.

Just as she was doing.

She mentally reviewed the inventory of the small box ready to be beamed for storage, wondering if there were any other items she could thin out from it, any unnecessary elements from this brief and rather disconnected part of her life. No, she decided, she'd discarded pretty much all the extraneous things; all that remained were those items she felt she really must keep, at least for a while longer. A moment later a transporter beam glistened over the storage box and it vanished. With a satisfied nod she picked up the remaining Starfleet issue crew case and signaled Jean Luc for transport. It was, she decided, time to go home.

"How long until we reach the Titan," Beverly asked, settling more comfortably into the ops station on the captain's yacht. Jean Luc checked the onboard chrono.

"At warp five, sixty-two hours, twenty-seven minutes," he replied.

"And when are we due to report back to the Enterprise?"

"Ten days from now. The Titan will rendezvous with her near Delphos VI."

Beverly made a little sound of surprise. Jean Luc glanced at her.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing," she said, shaking her head. "I just thought…."

"That we'd have a little longer honeymoon?" Jean Luc finished for her. Beverly nodded.

"I'm afraid a week will have to do. I couldn't beg, borrow or steal another day even if I tried. What few favors I had with Starfleet have all been used."

Beverly checked her display station and saw everything was good to go.

"I'm amazed you've been able to accomplish what you have. Getting Kranston off the ship was no small feat," she acknowledged. Jean Luc harrumphed.

"Well, Janeway really couldn't fight me on that one…not that she would have. It was a by-the-book request. You simply get preferential posting."

"And someday, when I'm captain of my own ship, I'll be sure to return the favor," said Beverly sweetly.

"I'll be delighted," Jean Luc replied tossing her a smile. "So…any ideas on where we should go—for a honeymoon, that is?" Beverly's response was quick.

"As long as it doesn't involve archeology, medicine or Romulans, I'm open for suggestions."

Jean Luc chuckled.

"How about mountain climbing?"

Beverly glared at him. Her fear of heights had been one of the secrets he had learned from her on KessPrytt.

"Oh yes. Let's," she said dryly.

"Seriously," Jean Luc continued, carefully maneuvering the Cousteau away from it's docking ring. "If it's all the same to you, I'd like to spend a little time onboard the Titan. I'm sure Will and Deanna wouldn't mind. And you could get caught up with Wesley."

Beverly watched as the space port began to slowly grow smaller on the reverse view of the main screen. It was no where near the size of the Enterprise's main viewer, but it was more than adequate for the yacht.

"Hmm. Visiting my son as part of a honeymoon. Really Jean Luc, I thought you were more of a romantic than that," she scolded him. In some ways his idea was appealing, on the other hand…who knew when they would next be able to get time away from command together. She felt they should seize the opportunity while they had it.

"Well, I do have a Dixon Hill holoprogram that has more than a little romance in it…" Jean Luc offered.

Beverly gave him a sour look.

"Getting shot at by a bunch of twentieth century thugs is not exactly my idea of romantic. Where is the Titan, anyway?

"Right now they're in the Denali System. They had to off-load some astrophysicists at Starbase 721," came his reply. The main viewer had reverted back to a forward scan and she could see Earth's moon off to the starboard side, Lake Armstrong sparkling in the sunlight.

"That sounds delightfully uneventful, after so many years of war," she remarked as the moon slid by and she could see the beacons ahead marking the outer perimeter of the Mars defense field. Jean Luc adjusted his controls and they bypassed Mars, sailing on past toward Jupiter.

"Yes, I suppose it does," Jean Luc replied, fiddling with the controls. Beverly continued to monitor their course, but the computer was doing all the work.

"Why do I think that you just said it was boring?" Beverly asked him, sitting back and folding her arms.

"Hmm. What? Boring? No…not really. It's just…well, we've all been on war-footing for so long, some of the more ordinary missions we've undertaken have been, well, rather mundane."

Beverly stared at him, hard.

"What is it about you men that makes you find war so damn exciting?"

Jean Luc looked up from his piloting, obviously taken aback at her response.

"I do not find war exciting," he replied, defensively. "It is an option of last resort…to preserve what we have worked centuries to achieve and to prevent those who would take it away from us from doing so."

Beverly sighed.

"I suppose it's naïve to think that scientific exploration and discovery will ever again be the primary role of Starfleet," she said, resignedly, staring at the multi-colored rings of Jupiter. True, Starfleet had always had some military aspect to it, but during most of her years in its service, it had enjoyed unprecedented peace.

"I'm sure there were similar sentiments following the initial conflict with the Klingons and the Tholians. Still, you may be right. Between the Borg and the Dominion, the Federation has been faced with just about as intractable an enemy as we've ever encountered. Who knows what else may be out there, waiting their turn. It's made the Federation very skittish."

Beverly recalled the spate of meetings she had been required to attend, all dealing with Starfleet's concern over where the next threat would arise. It was as if, having faced two near defeats in a single decade, they now expected yet another invasion to be inevitable. To Beverly, it bordered on paranoia, yet she had to admit there was credence to their concerns. As the Starship Voyager had discovered, the Delta Quadrant was filled with a host of species, some friendly, some not. The universe was too vast to know what other unpleasant surprises it may hold.

"I'm just worried we'll become too accustomed to war," she said after a while. "If you'd been around as many admirals as I've been lately, you'd be concerned too. It's almost as though they can't stand down from red alert. The wonder of space exploration has given way to nothing but discussion over the strategic placements of outposts, border patrols and secret operations. Studying stellar nurseries and mapping unexplored regions of space…well, no one wants those jobs anymore. They're just not exciting enough," she lamented.

Jean Luc nodded.

"Unfortunately we need those outposts…and those patrols…and probably even the secret operations," he replied. "The Federation knows it cannot live complacently with its head in the sand any longer. There are threats out there we have no knowledge of. If our encounters with the Borg and the Founders have taught us anything, it is that we cannot take our status-quo for granted. We must be on guard and prepared." He was thoughtful for a moment. "But you're right. Being at war does create a certain rhythm—it generates an elevated pulse rate among the fleet, if you will. Rather like a rush of adrenaline. It is difficult to set that aside and move back to more routine tasks. Compared to battle, mapping a nebula is fairly mundane."

"Adrenaline can become addictive," Beverly warned.

"True," Jean Luc conceded. "And the danger is that an organization…a society… can become dependent upon that heightened level of adrenaline. It may be a while before the Federation can regain its balance and back-off of its military mind-set."

"As long as they don't go spoiling for a fight. Frankly, some of the talk has made me nervous, Jean Luc. If the Federation were to take an aggressive posture, say with Cardassia…."

"That isn't likely to happen," Jean Luc replied. "Frankly, our resources are stretched too thin, as it is. We don't even have enough seasoned senior officers to man the ships as they come off the line, let alone plan any sort of offensive. Even against a weakened Cardassia."

Beverly understood. The Dominion War had cost the Federation scores of seasoned captains. Many who did manage to survive had retired, too used up and disillusioned by their losses to find any joy among the stars again.

"Not only that," he continued. "But the Federation needs to tend to its own needs first. Many member worlds remain skittish about the Federation's ability to defend them in the wake of another attack. The Genesis Wave didn't help us either. In the past year we've lost as many Federation members as we've gained. It's affected the morale of the remaining members—and unfortunately raised suspicions as to where the loyalty of some of them lay."

To Beverly, Jean Luc's words had an ominous tone.

"You mean…treason?" she asked, hardly believing it. Jean Luc gave her a sideways glance.

"That might be a bit harsh," he amended. "Let's just say that there are a growing number of fence-sitters out there who'd prefer to go it alone or possibly make other alliances if another threat were to appear in the near future."

Beverly chewed on this. The thought of losing more members of the Federation to say the Ferengi or the Tholian alliances was disheartening.

"Which is one of the reasons Starfleet has been channeling more resources into information gathering than its scientific pursuits," Jean Luc continued. "The Enterprise spent nearly four months in the Deneb system mapping and exploring it. We were the first Federation ship ever in that region of space. Now there's a Federation outpost there—and who knows what else."

"Special Ops," said Beverly, reading between his words. He nodded.

"More and more," he said. "Intelligence is the real work of Starfleet these days. The kind that's out in the open…and the kind that's more…clandestine."

"So much for inherently trusting one another," remarked Beverly with a sigh.

"Unfortunately, espionage has been a long-accepted methodology for information gathering, both among allies and enemies alike. But you're right…it does smack of an innate distrust of one another. Still, information is the most valuable tool we have in preventing another invasion."

"I suppose you're right," Beverly conceded. "It just seems a shame that we can't enjoy peace when we have it."

"Now that I can agree with," Jean Luc replied. "And you are correct that many Starfleet captains do feel a bit of a let down going back to their more primary missions of exploration. I admit to a little of it myself."

"I always suspected that you were a warrior at heart," she chided him. "Are you sure there isn't some Klingon blood back in the Picard line?"

"Oh…didn't I mention that they will be serving gagk at the reception?" he shot back. Beverly smiled indulgently.

"Sounds delightful," she replied. "I'll enjoy some while we climb that mountain."

Beverly pulled a knee up under her chin and contemplated the streaking starscape once again. It had been months since she'd been in space and the sight was soothing. She thought of the apartment she'd left behind and something Jean Luc had said to her came to her mind. He was right. She no more belonged planet-side than he did. Space was her home after all.

Thinking of space made Beverly nostalgic for the days aboard the Enterprise-D, before Veridian III had claimed the ship. The Enterprise-E had proven to be a worthy replacement—technologically advanced, stream-lined, fast and powerful. Even when the Borg had nearly chewed it up, it had withstood the damage well and was refitted quickly. But the Enterprise-E had lacked something. Maybe it was the absence of the families. With the threat of the Borg, and then the Dominion, families had been evacuated from the galaxy and sovereign class starships. They had become ships of war, no longer space-faring communities. While she understood and even agreed with the decision to ground civilians, and most certainly children, it seemed to Beverly that it had somehow diminished what Starfleet and the Federation were about. Slowly, and seemingly reluctantly, Starfleet was allowing families back aboard, but she doubted the numbers would ever match what they had in the pre-Borg, pre-Dominion days, and it saddened her.

She caught Jean Luc watching her and smiled, somewhat embarrassed to be caught in her reverie.

"Looking forward to getting your old job back?" Jean Luc broke into her thoughts.

"I was just thinking that somehow it doesn't seem like it will be the same, what with so much having changed," she confessed.

"The Enterprise is still the Enterprise…but yet, I admit, something about it is different. I hope you won't be disappointed."

Beverly eyed him mischievously.

"Is this where I'm supposed to say that it doesn't matter where we are as long as we're together?"

"Actually, this is the point where I set the yacht on autopilot and take you into my quarters to show you the artifacts I discovered on Aloris IV," he replied, a twinkle in his eyes.

"Really, Jean Luc," Beverly scolded him. "I thought you were more subtle than that."

"I tried subtle with you for over thirty years, Beverly. I've finally come to the conclusion that the direct approach is the best avenue to take."

"It only took you all those years to figure that out? Jean Luc…I'm impressed."

Jean Luc crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat.

"Hmm. I'm beginning to regret my proposal already and we've barely left the Terran system. Will you be this difficult when you're back as my CMO?"

Beverly shook her head.

"You will find me as professional as ever, Captain. But when we're alone in our quarters…all bets are off."

Jean Luc let out a long sigh.

"That's what I was afraid of."

Jean Luc stared at the star lines through the forward view screen and reflected that there were few times in his life where he had felt so totally and completely at peace. He had left Beverly sleeping and had come to the dimly lit bridge to sip a cup of tea and check the instrument readings, which indicated that they still had another eight hours before they arrived at the Titan's coordinates. Part of him regretted that their trip would be over so soon. As good a friends as they had become over the years, the past two and a half days of constant companionship had brought them even closer than when they'd had the psiwave transmitters implanted in them on KessPrytt. Of course the physical intimacy had added a whole other dimension to their relationship, so much so that as Jean Luc had held the sleeping Beverly in his arms, her auburn hair spilling across his shoulder, he had scarcely been able to believe the moment to be real. He half expected to see Q leering at him from across the cabin, snapping his fingers and making it all vanish. But it hadn't. He only wished he had learned enough from Anij to make this time stand still, and keep the rest of the galaxy at bay, if only for a while longer.

But the chronometer continued to scroll by and the warp field pushed ahead of them, bringing them closer to the Titan.

That of course had its advantages as well, Jean Luc had to admit. Old friends. Family. And his wedding. His wedding which would make his relationship with this woman permanent—or at least as permanent as anything in the universe could be. He thought back to his proposal to Beverly; how she'd hesitated, bringing up Q's glimpse into the future. Many times in the years that had passed since that time-bending event he had worried how much of that future scenario might be true. But time had brought changes that were not reflected in that future, and he refused to believe that anything he saw there…from Will's disenchantment to his own Irumodic Syndrome…would ever happen. And certainly, considering how he felt at the moment, the thought that he and Beverly would ever willingly go their separate ways after it had taken them so long to overcome the barriers that had existed between them…well, he couldn't even rationally consider it. No. Their marriage would work. He would make sure of it. And if she wanted to roam around the galaxy in her own medical ship some day, well, he'd spend his time reading archeological journals and writing his memoirs, while he bounced Wesley's children on his knee. It had taken him years, and another man's lifetime, to appreciate just how fulfilling that in itself could be.

A pair of willowy arms draped around him from behind. He'd been so lost in his reverie he hadn't even heard Beverly.

"Everything ship-shape and Bristol fashion?" she asked quietly. He nodded, smiling at the old nautical phrase.

"Aye," he replied, grasping her embrace as if it were a life preserver. "Tis a fair wind that blows us home."

"Then let the wind blow and the computer navigate," she suggested quietly, pressing her cheek against his. "We only have a few hours left alone; let's not waste them."

The warmth of her touch and the sparkle of the dimmed lights in her eyes thrilled him to his toes.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Jean Luc replied huskily.

A few moments later, the bridge was empty.