She doffed her scrubs and stumbled out of the OR after finishing her third nano-surgery; this one a six-hour marathon to repair plasma fire damage to an engineer's torso. The barrage had stopped sometime during her first surgery, and the ship was still in one piece, so she assumed the worst was over.
"Crusher to Wesley Crusher," she said, tapping her communicator.
"Crusher here. Hey, Mom."
"Wesley," she said with a sigh. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine." Beverly could practically hear the eye roll. She realized—belatedly, due to her own exhaustion—the crisis had likely ended hours earlier for him.
"All right then," she replied. "I'm glad you're safe. I just need to log my last surgery and then I'll be home."
There was a pause then Wes said, "I'm glad you're safe, too, Mom."
She smiled.
"Oh," he added, "how's Captain Picard?"
"Captain Picard?"
"I know I'm not supposed to access them, but I followed the tactical feed from the bridge during the attack and the captain was listed as injured during an attempt to commandeer the bridge."
"Uh, I don't know, Wes," she replied. A fresh jolt of adrenaline burned away some of her exhaustion. No one had come to tell her the captain was in sickbay, so his injuries likely weren't life threatening. "I'm sure he's going to be fine. I'll check on him on my way out, okay?"
"Thanks, Mom. Crusher out."
Beverly slipped behind her desk and logged her last surgery. As soon as she finished, she scrolled through the other logs and found Picard's latest patient entry. He'd come in after the battle with a fractured forearm—apparently from tackling and subduing one of the aliens—and received appropriate bone regeneration. He was discharged more than three hours earlier, with instructions to report back in twenty-four hours for a clearance check.
"Computer, location of Captain Picard."
The familiar chirp was immediately followed by, "Captain Picard is in his quarters."
Beverly debated the next question; it was late, she was tired. But, she'd promised Wes… "Is he awake?"
"Affirmative."
"All right then," she muttered as she slipped her tricorder into her pocket. "Let's go check on the captain before we crawl into bed and sleep for a week."
She had no trouble getting to his quarters; all turbolifts and corridors were functioning properly. She rang the chime and was surprised when he didn't call for her to enter.
Beverly took a step back as the doors whooshed open.
Picard scowled then blinked. "Doctor?"
"I'm sorry," she said, blushing. The captain wore a thigh-length robe loosely tied about his waist, and his bare chest was clearly visible between the folds. "I didn't mean to intrude. I read the report of your injury and thought I would stop by to see how you were."
He stepped back and gestured for her to enter. "Please, come in."
Beverly smiled shyly as she passed him and moved toward the seating area.
"Can I get you something? A drink perhaps?" he asked.
She shook her head. "This won't take long. I don't want to impose."
Jean-Luc crossed over to the sofa and sat. He smiled. "Your presence in my quarters will never be an imposition, I assure you."
"You say that now," Beverly replied, sitting next to him and taking out her tricorder. "But just you wait. You may live to regret those words."
"Oh, I sincerely doubt that," he said, letting her take his right arm and place it across her lap.
Beverly blushed and decided to change the subject. She kept her eyes on the scanner in her hand as she spoke. "So, can I assume you're behind this new 'Acting Junior Helmsman' thing?"
"Not exactly," he said, clearing his throat. "When it was decided to bring families on board vessels, someone in Command initiated a protocol for determining the fitness of non-Starfleet personnel to man a ship in the event every other officer was unable to step in and do so."
"Really?" she asked, meeting his gaze.
He nodded. "It never went anywhere because it was reasoned that if no Starfleet officers remained, the ship was likely destroyed."
"Lovely."
He gave her a half smile, and her stomach fluttered.
"Yes, well, the notion of creating a simulation to test civilians exists. I suggested that Commander Riker work with our Mr. Crusher to see if they could design a viable scenario that would fit the parameters of the initiative."
Beverly arched her eyebrow. "And now you'll have dozens of teenagers all qualified and clamouring for bridge shifts."
"I don't think so, Doctor," he said.
She leaned back and studied him. He met her gaze and arched an eyebrow in acknowledgement when she realized what they'd done.
"You stacked the deck!" she said. "You had Wes play guinea pig and designed the test so he's the only one who can pass the simulation!"
"I may also have altered some records suggesting he took the test—and passed—close to six months ago—"
"—thereby justifying his presence on the bridge when his friends aren't," she finished.
Picard nodded.
A knot formed in Beverly's throat. "You're brilliant. Devious, but brilliant," she said.
"It may never fully eliminate the insinuation that your son is serving on my bridge because you and I are," he paused, "intimate, but I do sincerely hope it helps."
Beverly froze and lowered her voice to a whisper. "Is that what you want, Jean-Luc? Intimacy?"
The tips of Jean-Luc's ears reddened but he didn't look away. He took her hand in his and ran his thumb along the inside of her wrist as he seemed to consider his words.
"I'm afraid I am a vestige of an era when families on ships were seen as an unnecessary risk, not something to be cultivated," he said. He stared out the viewport over her shoulder before continuing, "I believed for years that ship's captains should avoid intimate relationships with their crewmembers, and I convinced myself that not only should I not initiate one, but that I didn't need or desire such relationships."
"I see."
"But now," he said, smiling that soft smile he reserved only for her, "I realize I was wrong to set myself apart."
Beverly swallowed past a new lump in her throat and reached out to caress his face. Jean-Luc closed his eyes and pressed his cheek into her palm.
"I think," she began, "we would both benefit from exploring such a relationship. You're not the only one with a history of keeping colleagues at arm's length."
He took her hand and placed a soft kiss in the center of her palm. "I plan on keeping you a lot closer than that; if you'll let me."
Beverly smiled as she leaned in and brushed her lips against his ear. "Why, my dear Captain," she whispered, "that's precisely what I hope you'll you do."
The End.
