A.N.:3/09/13 I have been slowly proofreading and reposting each chapter. I am always amazed at how many errors and typos I find even after having proofed most of these chapters at least a couple of dozen times. The only other alterations I've been doing is trying to make all of the stories in this series consistent. In short, I've matched up the vintages where it mattered, made sure that the personal details and dates are correct, made sure that the way I spelled proper names stayed consistent, etc.
CHAPTER NINE: Dance with me…
=/\= ='/\'= =/\=
"My report, Captain," Riker finished saying, handing his padd to his commander. He surreptitiously studied his commanding officer. There was definitely something different about his captain this morning. Jean-Luc seemed more relaxed than usual. Again, Riker pondered the lady's identity. Whoever she was, she must be one helluva woman. Riker kept his grin to himself. There were certain lines he dared not cross with Jean-Luc.
Will vowed to keep his ear to the grapevine over the next few days. Surely, someone would ferret out something. Not that he was a gossipmonger. But the well-being of his captain was paramount to him. And this included guarding the captain's personal life, although Riker knew he had to proceed very cautiously. The last thing Riker wanted was for Picard to think that he was foolish enough to be nosing about the captain's private affairs. Again.
"Any other matter to be brought to my attention?" Picard asked of his senior line staff, knowing that his agenda had been covered.
The response was negative.
Picard then swiveled in his chair and stared questioningly at Riker.
Riker didn't flinch. Though he wondered what it was that he had done to get Jean-Luc glaring at him.
"I understand that you're performing a set tonight in Ten-Forward, Commander."
"Yes, sir." Riker was surprised by this question. To his knowledge, Captain Picard had never expressed interest in one of his musical performances before. "Mr. Data is joining us as a singer."
"I can emulate the singing styles of 5,387 jazz singers, sir," Data informed his captain.
"Do you know of Tony Bennett?"
"Accessing. Yes, captain. I am familiar with this performer."
"Consider singing under his influence, and I will attend."
Riker hid his astonishment. "I didn't know that you were interested in jazz, sir."
"I was not aware that you needed to know every detail about my personal preferences, Number One."
Jean-Luc glanced at the reflections of his senior staff in the meeting room's windows. He could tell that Mr. LaForge and Beverly were having a hard time stifling their grins over his treatment of his XO.
"Dismissed."
He caught Beverly's eye. She correctly understood his unspoken request and stayed. After everyone else had cleared out, he approached her, extending his hand.
She took it.
"Will you come with me to the concert, mon coeur?"
She tried to disguise her discomfort at the idea of becoming such a public spectacle. For she had guarded her privacy almost as much as Jean-Luc had protected his own.
"Yes, I do know what I am asking, Beverly."
He leaned over and lightly kissed her cheek, then ordered, "Computer, privacy lock."
This was the one thing that Jean-Luc could have done that was absolutely guaranteed to make Beverly even more nervous. For his KesPrytt dreams had revealed certain fantasies concerning the multiple reflective nature of this room's windows and conference table top. And how he'd envisioned ravishing her there with great finesse. And with her enthusiastic cooperation.
"Wh…what?" she stuttered. This scenario was also too close to one of her personal fantasies as well.
He stepped away from her and sat in his traditional chair, pivoting to face her.
"By the time Guinan seats us, the news will be all over the ship," Picard chuckled. "By the time the first set is finished, Winston Holt Wiley will know."
"Are you sure that you want to do this, Jean-Luc? It is a significant step."
"By the time I sweep the Dancing Doctor onto her feet, Wesley will probably be the recipient of many sub-space messages." He seemed a bit amused by his notions.
"Oh, lord, you know that nickname too?"
"Jack told me, years ago. Once I learned of it, I actually found it intimidating. I can remember treading on your toes at diplomatic functions. I felt like such an ass."
"And are you willing to be an ass tonight?"
He knew by the tone of her voice that dancing would be her price for her joining him in Ten-Forward.
"Not only will I be an ass, I am willing to feel an…" He stood and leaned over, lightly brushing his lips against her, rubbing his palm across her derriere. "We'll dine afterwards?"
It was not a question that needed a spoken answer.
=/\= ='/\'= =/\=
Riker decided to try a different tactic. The band was setting up and testing the sound equipment. So when Mr. Data entered Ten-Forward, Riker pulled the android aside.
"Mr. Data, may I talk with you a moment?"
"Of course, Commander."
Riker led Data to an empty section of the lounge, away from the musicians.
"I need to ask you a question about Captain Picard's leave."
"Yes, Commander? You should know that Lieutenant Worf did warn me that you would try to interrogate me about Captain Picard's lovers."
Silently, Will vowed to get even with Mr. Worf some day in the future - the very near future. "Data! How can you think such a thing... Wait a second. Did you say - Lovers?"
"Yes, I have been keeping track of all of the captain's ladies just in case the captain might one day need my assistance with one of them."
"I don't understand, Mr. Data."
"Two of them are still on board the Enterprise. Contrary to what most of your English literature indicates, these two ladies are great friends.
Mr. Riker silently mouthed the phrase two of them are still on board…
Mr. Data interrupted the commander's musings. "Commander, I am being summoned for a sound check. If you have any more questions, I will try not to answer them after the session."
It took the First Officer a second to comprehend everything that Mr. Data had just said.
And then it was his turn for a sound check.
=/\= ='/\'= =/\=
At 1850 hours he rang her doorbell.
Casually dressed in a genetian blue silk shirt and matching rough-woven slacks, he entered Beverly's quarters and immediately felt under-dressed when he beheld the vision before him.
Her flame red dress had a handkerchief hem fluttering about her ankles. The bodice was modest. The back was not. Her long red hair flowed about her shoulders. Her hair color should have clashed with the vibrant dress color. Instead, it all became a glorious, tantalizing confliction.
The fire in his mutable hazel eyes told her all that she needed to know about the way that she looked. "Perhaps we shouldn't go out?" Mischievous promises lurked in her smile.
"Tempt me now and you will pay the price later. And a high toll it will be."
"You keep making me these promises, Jean-Luc."
Her smile was purely sensual. She came up to him, looked down at him since she was wearing very high ruby sequined heels one more time, and then kissed him with a determined passion. When she decided that she had persuaded him to change his mind about going to Ten-Forward, she broke away from their kiss.
She wiped her lipstick off of his lips. And his pate.
"Come along, Jean-Luc. Let's go shock Will speechless."
They walked down the corridors quietly conversing. As if everything were its normal status quo between them.
The crew members that passed them noted nothing odd except, perhaps, for the fact that the captain was dressed in civilian clothing tonight. This was a rare sight, rarely observed outside of the fencing courts or the holodecks.
The couple approached the Ten-Forward corridor.
Jean-Luc knew that Beverly was nervous. "It's all right, beloved."
"I don't want it to be all right, Jean-Luc," she answered. Then she stopped walking. "What did you say?"
"Everything will be all right?" he suggested.
She grabbed his arm, ignoring the interested gazes of the people entering into the lounge.
"No! You said beloved," she whispered.
"And you are." His voice was soft, resolute.
And she knew then, that he truly meant it. His prior words of love had not been said just because of the heat of the moment.
Her answering smile was beatific as she refused the offer of his arm. "Let us proceed as we mean to go," she announced to her lover.
Truly wondering what she meant, Picard stood there waiting for her to make the next move.
She extended her hand toward his.
He understood.
He accepted.
He clasped her hand. Formally. Playfully. With fingers stroking fingers as they intertwined.
Supported by the warmth and strength of his touch, she guided him between the sliding wood doors of the lounge, tugging him just a little bit to pull him across the threshold.
In Ten-Forward, no one moved. All talking ceased. Riker was just about to start the first set, a tribute to a legend named 'Hoagie', when he became aware of the sudden stillness sweeping across Ten-Forward. He looked up. And briefly thought that he was hallucinating.
The captain and the doctor had entered together, holding hands.
No one moved or said anything until Guinan approached the couple.
"Guinan." Picard couldn't help the dry, cautious note to his voice.
"I've a special table all ready for you, Jean-Luc." She radiated her beneficent smile down upon them. "Right in front. Everyone can gawk without being too obvious or having to strain their necks."
She patted Jean-Luc's arm but looked squarely at Beverly. "It's about time."
For some reason, she reminded Beverly of an approving governess.
"Guinan!" Picard was beginning to be worried about what the barkeep would do. Her very unpredictability was the only predictable thing about her other than her bizarre style of dress.
"Lighten up, Jean-Luc. It's about time your crew learned that you're a man, too. Or, was I the only one who was ever supposed to know?"
Picard glanced at Beverly. She clearly had some new questions about his old relationship with Guinan. He hoped that she would ask those questions later. Much later and in the privacy of his quarters.
He sighed. Mightily. Then he glared at Guinan. But he found it hard to sustain his ire when she was giving him such a goofy smile. Guinan was wearing a rhomboid shaped hat and matching outfit in a particularly virulent shade of purple. He was entertained by her appearance in spite of himself.
"Very interesting outfit."
"Thank you." Guinan appeared to be annoyed by his compliment.
Then she escorted the captain and the doctor to a table, waved her fingers, and a waiter wearing a green checkered uniform appeared with a bottle of champagne.
"It seemed appropriate," she explained, as she popped the cork on a '37 brut champagne. From the Picard vineyards, of course.
"Wave a red flag, shall we?" Jean-Luc muttered under his breath.
Riker stepped forward again, to the front of the stage, garnering some attention. "We are honored to have our captain and our CMO with us tonight." He nodded towards Picard. "Captain, if you have any requests, please let me know."
"What have I done," Picard muttered to Beverly. He took in the sight of his very amused First Officer. And he was not amused.
"Soul of discretion, hmmm…?" Was Beverly's sole response.
Riker began the set. And Picard found himself actually enjoying the music, when he started to relax. He tipped his glass towards Beverly, they clinked and then they drank.
Ten-Forward took note of everything.
And then, Mr. Data stepped forward. "In the style of Tony Bennett, Commander Riker will now perform "Isn't It Romantic?", a late 20th century Earth composition. I shall be the vocalist."
Picard knew a cue when he heard one. And he had a debt to pay.
"Doctor." He stood and formally bowed toward his seated lady. "Shall we dance?"
Beverly was surprised. She hadn't quite believed that Picard really would ask her to dance. Being forced to dance at diplomatic functions and admiralty dinners was not quite the same as being asked to dance by a lover. Now, he was literally declaring to one and all that she was indeed his date. And part of her rejoiced in the idea, glad that he was making such a public statement.
She stood, took his hand, and let him lead her into the music.
Mr. Data was his usual self. Riker tried to match the android's musicality. It worked. Though the band could have been off-key, not playing the same music measure together at the same time, and with the drummer drumming to another tune, and it all wouldn't have mattered one bit. The only thing that mattered was that the captain was dancing with his doctor. And there was no official obligation in sight - just personal ones.
Deanna grabbed Geordi's hand and pulled him onto the dance floor. Other couples joined them.
Beverly's body brushed against his. At first, it was accidental, but then Beverly recollected the fun of blatant behavior. She knew that she'd reap the rewards later on tonight.
A thrust of the hip here, the graze of a breast there, all to seductive rhythms - she wondered how long it would be before he decided to drag her by her hair from Ten-Forward.
He surprised her. It took two more dances including a samba, before he conceded to her their silent lover's battle. And he even ignored the knowing looks that were sent in their direction.
The worst look came from Guinan. It was way too-knowing. She joined them at their table, smiling benignly. "Think everybody in the admiralty knows about you two by now? Or, do you want to give it another couple of minutes?"
"It's up to the lady."
"No, Jean-Luc. It's always been up to you." Guinan smiled. "You both look thirsty. Something new?" she challenged.
"Uh, something new might be nice," Beverly agreed.
"I'll see what I can do." Guinan sashayed away.
"Jean-Luc?"
"Hush Beverly. Wait until Guinan's out of hearing range."
"Where would that be? Deep Space Nine?"
He laughed. Loudly. And did not even notice his crew's shocked reaction to the sound of their captain's amusement. The possibility that their captain really did have a sense of humor had been a heretofore unsubstantiated rumor amongst most of the lower decks. Few had ever been privy to this side of Jean-Luc Picard.
He was still chuckling, as Beverly casually asked, "You know, I don't remember Jack ever mentioning Guinan."
"My relationship with Guinan has always bordered on the unusual, Beverly. But I am surprised that Jack had not mentioned the lady. Guinan was Jack's friend too."
His words captured Beverly's interest. "On board the Stargazer?"
"Not exactly. Guinan did provide Jack's tribble if you recall Walker's version of that story. However, there are some tales that are best told when we do not have an observing audience. And have the time." He mentally added, "Or best told not at all."
Beverly wisely heeded his warning and returned her attention to the musicians. Will was performing a very creditable solo performance in the style of the Deneb Five's version of "Take Five".
"Will's actually been practicing." Beverly meant it as a compliment.
"Really?" Picard finished off the last of his champagne. "I never suspected that my Number One had quite so much talent. Should I recommend to him that he become a full-time musician and a part-time Commander?"
"The Enterprise could always use a music teacher." She broke off, laughing. "I'm just imagining Will's face at hearing such a suggestion. I'm sure that he'd appreciate more career advice…"
Jean-Luc smiled at the thought, but then suddenly stopped. "If Will doesn't do something about his career and soon, that may be the only career advice that I can give him."
His voice was low, but Beverly heard him.
"What?"
"Another matter suitable for discussion in private, Beverly." He shook his head in dismay. "Have I done my Number One a disservice by relying on him too much?"
His ruminations ended when Guinan approached carrying a tray with two crystal tankards that were churning, spewing forth a distinctive effluvium into the air of Ten-Forward.
With a flourish, she presented them to the couple. "Your drinks, Jean-Luc. Beverly. I'm considering calling it Better Late Than Never. Enjoy."
With that, she rapidly walked away from them.
"Uh-oh," Beverly uttered. "It's never a good sign when Guinan won't wait around to hear what people think of her new concoctions." She looked squarely into Jean-Luc's eyes, and asked, "You love me? I didn't mistake your words in the corridor, did I?"
Somewhat caught out, he responded, "No. I did say that I love you and I meant it, Beverly."
She poised her straw over the tankard's rim, contemplating the possibility that her straw would melt if she dropped it into her blurping drink. Twirling the twinkling orange iridescent stirrer between her fingers, she pointed it at him.
"You go first."
He laughed. Out loud. Again. And the crowd in the lounge reacted, again, to this sound.
"At your service, Beverly Crusher." He shuddered, looking down into the murky brown liquid that was still smoldering. "In the future, Beverly, please do remember what I am willing to do for you. And only for you."
"The ultimate sacrifice. Such bravery. So noted."
"We who are about to…"
Beverly interrupted his misquote.
"Drink, Jean-Luc. Doctor's orders."
There was a look to his eye that clearly indicated his recollection of other recent doctor's orders.
She ignored his unspoken allusion. "Of course. You're the one who began this dilemma. You're the one who hints at mysterious matters concerning its creator. So, drink up, Jean-Luc. And if it is not synthehol, pray that I remember all of the ingredients to my Nana's hangover recipe. I always thought that it worked better than the hypospray solutions." She warily eyed the drink. "You started it. You drink it." She smiled a little, self-pleased, bird-like smile. "Enjoy."
He picked up his glass tankard. And a marvelous thing began to happen when the warmth from his fingers interacted with the glass. The liquid started to change. And it separated into the entire spectrum of the rainbow with a sudden golden pouf of effervescence rising up above the liquid and settling into a gilding presence about the rim of the tankard.
Now, he was not so hesitant. In his hand was a thing of intriguing beauty. He lifted the glass to his lips and sipped. Pleasure crossed over his tongue. He was amazed and relieved that Guinan's little joke did not tend toward the inclusion of Klingon ceremonial tea as an ingredient.
He heard the sound of clapping. Looking up, he saw Riker applauding his bravery. Never mind how far their relationship had developed since the day he had ordered Riker to first dock the separated Enterprise manually. His First Officer needed to be taught a lesson about the nature of his captain.
A swift tap to his ankle reminded him of Beverly's presence. Looking about, he realized that more than one pair of ears were listening for his opinion of Guinan's creation.
He took another sip. A long one.
"Acceptable." He thought that he heard someone cursing in the background.
Various flavors of nuts and then fruits crossed over the tip of his tongue.
Encouraged, Beverly picked up her glass. The same sparkling hues occurred as she sipped. She tasted unidentified alien fruit juices.
"Umm, this is delicious."
"I will order Guinan to rename it." On her questioning look, he explained, "She should name it after you."
"I think she already did." Still, she appreciated his gallantry even as she took another sip. Every sip was different. Complex.
"I wonder how long it took Guinan to create this…" She drank again. "This drink is not a casual concoction."
"You are correct." He put the glowing drink down. Half-muttering to himself, he added, "Damn her. She knew…"
Knowing that he should be explaining his remarks to his lovely companion, he added, "I will gladly concede to Guinan eccentricities in exchange for something as delicious and tasteful as this recipe."
"Thank you for admitting it, Jean-Luc."
The lovers were startled. Neither one had noticed the approach of Guinan.
He looked up at her. And glared.
"Yes, Jean-Luc?" Guinan waited expectantly.
"Send some of these drinks over to Riker and the band, with my compliments."
Guinan nodded. "I'll even embellish for no extra charge."
"That is not necessary, Guinan."
She merely watched him, giving him her all-knowing-look-of-the ancient-ones look. Guinan then directed that specific look at Beverly.
"'Bout time someone rattled that cozy little gilded cage of yours, Jean-Luc." Guinan's look challenged the doctor. "Time to really claim him as yours - if you really want him, that is."
"What do you suggest I do?" Beverly agreed with some of Guinan's assessment of Jean-Luc's situation. Besides, Guinan's insubordinate mood was infectious, and Beverly was catching it. She'd been a good girl for far too long.
"Kiss him."
Beverly didn't have to look at Jean-Luc to know that he had an instinctive, appalled expression on his face.
Guinan, however, had another kind of look on her face. For an instant, Beverly saw a doorway open into the woman's soul, hinting at a spirit that had spent centuries refining a wicked sense of humor, dedicated to deflating the pompous. Even if one of the pompous was a dear friend.
Guinan caught something in Beverly's expression that caused her smile to broaden.
Jean-Luc saw it too. "Beverly, don't you dare…"
But Beverly did dare.
Quickly.
On the lips.
And when he recognized that his crew's captainly perception had been altered forever, he figured what the hell? So he kissed her back. And this time, he lingered for more than a moment, enjoying the taste of her, the touch of her, until Beverly was putty in his arms.
When he finally raised his head, he noticed a few jaws hitting the café table tops again. His carefully constructed image would never quite be the same again. His one consolation was the poleaxed expression on Will's face, as his exec eventually got around to propping up his jaw.
Then Jean-Luc turned his piercing, titanium grey, sharp, displeased gaze upon Guinan.
"Madam Guinan, I always repay my debts."
Guinan had no doubt that one day he would. They'd been playing this game for a long time. A lesser being might have quaked. Guinan only benignly smirked.
"I know you do, Jean-Luc. I'm only doing what a good ship's barkeep should do - keeping her captain alert. And confounded." She glided away, almost as if there were wheels under her agitating robes instead of legs.
Beverly looked at Jean-Luc. But the expression on his face didn't seem to involve his opinion of Guinan's antics. "Now what?"
She felt a bit embarrassed by the kiss and then her response. Had she over-stepped Jean-Luc's personal boundaries? Had she gone too far?
"Shall we go?" His voice revealed not a damn thing about his feelings.
She hadn't been this unsure of her captain's reaction to her behavior since the days she'd tried to prove that her Ferengi scientist friend, Dr. Reyga, had been murdered.
He sensed the nervousness in her voice and forced himself to smile, though it was not altogether a reassuring smile.
"If we leave, there will be conjecture about what we next will be doing," Picard mused.
Again, he noticed Riker's deliberative looks. He instinctively stiffened, pulling his grave dignity about him as if it were a shield.
Beverly sounded subdued as she spoke. "And if we decide not to leave?"
"I may expire from frustration," he unexpectedly replied. He was acceding to his fate. Accepting the lunacy of his position. Surrendering to his feelings.
He looked at Guinan, decided to hold her smug look against her at some future date, and quietly conceded to her this round.
Suddenly, the stern smile that was part of his captain's façade changed into something else - warm, understanding, and very, very masculine. And he directed it solely at Beverly.
"Shall we?"
The words were formally expressed. They hid the fervent essence behind his gaze, when, for a brief instant, passion-filled memories shone.
Beverly saw not the stare of her commanding officer. Instead, she was beholding the man. And she was thrilled.
Riker watched them approach the stage. He tried to squelch his still visible astonishment at his captain's behavior. For he wasn't that surprised about the way Beverly was behaving. Riker still had vivid memories of what the uninhibited Beverly was like in private. But Jean-Luc? Had he ever really known his captain?
"Thank you, Will. I don't know when I've found jazz so pleasurable before. One could even say it was stimulating." The captain's look could hold a suspicion of deviltry, too.
"Thank you, Captain. Doctor. I'm glad that you found some pleasure in the music." Will's voice sounded normal, even though the expression on his face indicated that he thought Q was paying them a visit.
Picard put his arm about Beverly's waist, and hugged her close to his side. "I will take the Beta shift, tomorrow. Goodnight, Will."
And with this, they left.
Saurian dream dust - that was the only explanation that Riker had for his hallucinating vision of the captain and the doctor kissing in full view of the ship. And that they were now walking out of Ten-Forward, holding hands.
Beverly controlled herself until they were well out of ear-shot of anyone in the corridors.
"That was absolutely awful of you, Jean-Luc. Nasty. However are you going to face Will during your duty watch tomorrow?"
She knew that she'd asked a foolish question the moment she'd uttered those words. There wasn't an officer alive who could ruffle Jean-Luc's feathers when he was wearing his captain's mask.
"Forget that I said that, Jean-Luc."
Picard laughed, pleased with himself at the moment. And entranced with the presence of Beverly holding his hand.
"I will."
When they reached Beverly's corridor, he glanced about, made sure that there was no one covertly observing them, and then with a grace belied by strength, he hefted Beverly up, carrying her into her quarters. He ignored her not-too-serious squeals of protest.
He held her close, not willing to put her down. He was pleased that he could now freely nuzzle her hair. And touch her when he desired.
"Jean-Luc…"
His name was a whisper across her trembling lips; a remembrance of both the past and a calling for the future. "I believe that you still owe me a dance or two." She found his answering smile to be enchanting.
"Or three or four." On her questioning look, he explained, "I believe that I need some more dancing lessons."
"You didn't step on my toes at all tonight when we were dancing."
"Ah yes, our dancing together." He mockingly chastised her. "Beverly, what you did to me on the dance floor was nothing short of scandalous."
Her smile was dazzling as she remembered his response. She eased out of his carry in order to embrace him. She was beginning to really like holding him like this whenever she wished.
"Do you disapprove?"
He shook his head and kissed her. "So, Beverly, I need further instruction in how to do to you what you did to me, tonight."
"Instruction? In the art of seduction? You?" She shook her head in denial. "No, you don't need my teachings, Jean-Luc. You already know way too much about seduction."
"But is my knowledge exactly what you wish it to be? Is it the way that you prefer it?"
"Well, if you are serious about furthering your education, I supposed I could teach you a thing or two. Or three."
"You sound greatly ambitious."
"I have time for great ambition, Jean-Luc."
"Beverly, we have to be on duty in the morning. There isn't any way that I can be too ambitious. I could not claim an illness - not even with a padd full of reports from my personal physician." He grinned at that thought. "Even if my doctor is the cause for my fatigue."
"Imagine what Will would make of that excuse…"
"I would rather imagine my Number One's reaction rather than consider how Mr. Data would respond," Picard countered. "There are certain android questions that I do not care to answer. And Mr. Data would most certainly ask them."
"Jean-Luc…" She moved a little closer to her lover.
"Yes, mon coeur?"
"Don't you have something more interesting to do than to discuss your senior officers right now?"
Her lips brushed his before she whispered an invitation. "Shall we dance?"
"My pleasure, Beverly."
She twirled into his arms.
"Computer, play 'Our Love is Here to Stay', my arrangement," Beverly ordered. "Will you follow my lead, Jean-Luc? I can teach you a few moves."
Music began to flow. Beverly lead Jean-Luc. He held her carefully, following her guidance.
"I wasn't jesting about the dance, mon coeur." Now he was guiding her - too carefully.
It took her a few seconds to figure out what was causing the awkwardness between them. "Relax, Jean-Luc. I won't bite."
"Then I am devastated."
He did relax. And for a time, they lost themselves in the music.
Gentle pressures. Familiar scents. Feather-weight caresses. Simple touches. All wove their magic as the lovers moved together.
Eventually, she noticed his fingers toying with the ties to the back of her dress.
"Jean-Luc…"
He could bring her to a state of sighs with barely a touch.
Knowing fingers searched and caressed.
Bit by bit, as they danced, their clothing drifted to the deck.
Jean-Luc stepped awkwardly, tripping over her skirt. Breaking their embrace, he barely avoided squishing her toes.
Beverly sidestepped neatly.
She tried not to laugh too loudly.
'You find my kisses amusing?" Picard dryly asked, still maintaining a bit of his sangfroid style in spite of this situation.
"Oh, yes," she teased. "And the way you dance, too."
"Should I stop?"
"Don't you dare!"
"I believe I made that request earlier."
Chagrin crossed her features; a ruddy hue brushed her cheeks. "I'm sorry. Did I really embarrass you?"
He wanted to appear stern for a moment, but Beverly's concerned expression caught at his heart. He did the only thing that he could do under the circumstances. He chuckled. "Beverly, I have worked for years to cultivate the absolutely perfect captain's image, and you steal it away with a mere kiss. Shocking behavior for a CMO."
"Jean-Luc…" Suddenly, she was indignant. "A mere kiss?"
He kissed her lightly. "Shocking," was his gallant response. His next kiss squelched any remnants of her ire. "Thank you, Beverly." He paused, enjoyed her confusion. He kissed her again with an even greater sense of passion, then added, 'And Beverly, do you really wish me to tell you what I think of your mere kisses?" Between kisses, he asked, "Shall I quote my favorite playwright?"
A particular throbbing vein on her neck attracted his lips. And he knew exactly what to do to bring her into such a trembling state in his arms. "Klingon love poetry? Avanerian metaphoric artists?"
"Jean-Luc?"
She suddenly embraced him with all of the passion she possess. Her mouth repaying him for each shiver that he had just created. His arms lifted her up into his kisses as hot blood hammered through both their veins.
"Yes, Beverly?" he gasped.
"You talk too much."
She kissed him again, dropped her arms, and stepped back away from him. Just enough so that her naked breasts were barely brushing against the hairs on his chest.
When he plundered a particularly vulnerable vein on the side of her neck, she stopped dancing. She couldn't remember to move her feet when her mind was overwhelmed with pulsing needs.
When he raised his lips from her collarbone, he asked in a surprisingly casual tone of voice, "And what was that you said about my dancing skills?"
It took her a moment to collect her thoughts in order to respond. "Jean-Luc, you are a very dangerous man - especially when you're dancing."
Later on, he would realize that her words were not precisely a compliment.
They resumed dancing, barely bothering to move to the music. He murmured against the softness of her flesh, his tongue tracing French phrases against silken skin. She did not need to translate them.
She sighed her approval, when they retreated to the sofa, for Jean-Luc refused to consider the floor again as a trysting place.
Light years were traversed before Beverly raised herself up by her elbows. Pushing against the grey twill fabric to her sofa, she stroked her lover's head, content to simply touch him now.
"Come to bed, Jean-Luc," was her request. It was a simple one that countless lovers have murmured to each other during the quiet hours of the night.
Picard raised his head up from Beverly's breast. The peace he knew from resting on her bosom was addictive, yet troublesome. He reluctantly stirred away from the soothing stroking of his lover.
By way of apology for disturbing their idyll, he slowly traced a finger over her breast, pleased by its instantaneous response to his touch.
"I'd best leave. It wouldn't do for the crew to see me out of uniform at the start of the duty shift." He was trying very hard not to feel awkward in this uneasy - for him - situation.
"You could replicate a uniform."
She wisely refrained from mentioning Jean-Luc's fondness for hand-tailored uniforms.
"Not tonight, Beverly." He stood and started picking up his clothing. And hers.
If it had been anyone other than Jean-Luc Picard, Beverly would have described his glances in her direction as nervous.
"Not prudent?" She couldn't but help to ask, truly trying not to be catty.
He stopped moving about and took a deep breath, recognizing her rights, and then forged ahead, having made some sort of internal decision.
"But tomorrow, I could bring a few personal things and place them…"
Beverly interrupted him. "In my closet? Yes, I'd like that. I'd even be willing to place a few of my things in your quarters. I'd even leave you a little bit of room in your closets." She waited for his reaction, but received none.
His back was to her. "Yes, Beverly." His voice was dispassionate. Neutral. He got dressed.
"Must you leave?" She had to at least try to keep him a while longer.
He knelt down by her side.
"I don't really wish to leave, Beverly. But it is for the best. For now." He kissed her cheek, then swiftly left, not looking back.
"Too much, too soon," she sadly whispered to her orchids, wondering how she was going to sleep without him, tonight. Those few days and nights in his cabin had spoiled her.
And now she knew that she still had many barriers to crash if they were going to have a true relationship. But an even more frightening thought was how easily she was letting him into her life.
The next morning she arrived at his quarters an extra forty-five minutes early. Somehow, she was not surprised that breakfast was already waiting for her. And so was her lover.
"We seem to think alike, Beverly," he observed as the door slid closed behind her.
=/\= ='/\'= =/\=
Two days later, Jean-Luc Picard strode onto his bridge and motioned for Counselor Troi to join him in his ready room.
Deanna beamed her ascent as she stood.
He became slightly annoyed with this confirmation that Deanna seemed to be perpetually smiling whenever she glanced toward either himself or Beverly, now.
Riker sent a swift but covert glance toward his tactical officer.
"Thirty-two seconds to go," Lieutenant Worf mouthed.
Riker turned away as the captain and the counselor left the bridge. It would bode ill for the first officer if the captain caught him keeping watch over how close the captain was coming to being reported late for his shift.
Inside the ready room, Picard motioned for the counselor to be seated. He sat down behind his desk.
"Counselor." That sounded too formal. He cleared his throat. "Deanna."
"Yes, Captain?"
He fidgeted, tugged down his uniform, glanced over at Livingstone, and strummed his fingers against his computer monitor.
When he reached for his quartz shard, she began to speak. "You wanted to see me? About what, Sir?"
"Deanna." He still could not find the proper way to broach the subject.
"Is it about you and the change in your relationship with Beverly?" the counselor suggested.
"Yes." He was uncomfortable about the entire affair. "How detrimental is it?"
"What do you consider to be detrimental, Captain?" she coldly asked, not quite surprised by this question and his reasoning. Image had always been paramount to the captain of the Enterprise, in the past. He had always presented himself as a man coolly in control of all circumstances - a source of security and confidence to those in need of confirmation. And now, he was beset with the most basic of doubts.
He spoke of his fears. "The gossip. The innuendoes." He was annoyed that he even had to explain himself to her. He pushed himself to his feet, using more energy than was required to do so. "Do I need damage control?"
Deanna burst into a light laugh which stilled the instant she sensed the truly serious nature of his inquiry. Her captain was over-reacting. Which was not exactly unexpected. But still, it was a grave matter to him.
"Sorry, Sir." She tried to sound sincere.
Picard didn't need empathic powers to know that his counselor really wasn't that apologetic.
She soothingly spoke. "Captain, you're making much too much of this. Everyone that knows you is pleased. Those that don't know you or care, will find new topics about which to gossip, very soon. In either case, you don't need damage control." She proffered her best, all-knowing counselor smile.
"Counselor…" he warned, yielding to her this concession. He didn't have to say how much he hated it when she was in the right.
Her smile became ever more knowing.
"And isn't that what you intended in the first place, by going public? Your behavior in Ten-Forward clearly indicated a desire to inform people about the nature of your changing personal relationship with Beverly."
"I'm over-reacting, aren't I?" He nodded as if in confirmation of this fact to himself. "I am in danger of making myself appear foolish over what is, after all, a normal facet of human behavior."
"Yes, Captain."
She now bestowed on her captain, her maddonaesque smile. "You're only proving to the crew that the man who is capable of captaining this starship, is also capable of being the captain of his own heart. You are human, you know."
She walked around the desk and kissed his cheek.
"And it is about time that you paid attention to your own life, Captain. You have spent too much of your life dedicated to doing your duty. Now, you should concentrate on other priorities. You have been alone for far too long. And so has Beverly."
"Do you have a point that you wish to make, Deanna?" He tried not to reveal his irritation at her perceptiveness. He wasn't comfortable with her knowledge of his self, even after knowing the counselor for many years. Even after baring his very tortured soul in the past to this woman. He didn't like discussing every single thing about his psyche with a counselor.
"You've always been a cautious, contemplative man, Captain Picard."
"Meaning?" Picard wasn't sure that he'd care for more of her insight at this moment.
"You will be doing both yourself and Beverly a disfavor, if you do not think of all the possibilities. The present is well and good. However, you do have quite a few choices for the future."
"And what precisely are they, Counselor?" he stiffly asked.
Another dazzling smile crossed over Deanna's lips. Then her expression changed as she considered serious answers to his question.
"Well, Beverly has to consider Wesley's thoughts about the change in your relationship," she answered, diverted by the knowledge that one of Wesley's greatest adolescent wishes had finally come true.
Picard chose to take her words quite soberly. "I will not allow my personal relationships to be dictated to by a cadet."
"And what of Beverly's wishes?" There was a decidedly harsh edge to this question.
Picard was taken back by it. This was the first time he'd ever heard this particular tone of voice directed toward his own self.
Deanna forged onward. "Beverly has to consider Wesley's feelings as well as yours. Or didn't you think about that before you created this situation, Captain?"
"We didn't think," Picard admitted only to himself. Then he straightened up, tugging again at his tunic. "Wesley's feelings are irrelevant This af…. Er, situation is strictly between Beverly and myself."
Picard tried to appear to be as a reasonable man. In his heart, he knew he was failing. Miserably. He'd forgotten about Wesley in his pursuit of Beverly. He'd forgotten about a Wesley that he'd personally forced to accept a life of ostracization at Starfleet Academy. A Wesley who had more reason to now hate him than to accept him. He inwardly groaned, and admitted it to himself. He was a fool.
Deanna was right.
His relationship with Beverly didn't stand a chance against the force known as Wesley.
Oh, the Admiralty could object, and the pair of them would overcome it. Fellow officers could disapprove, and they would be ignored. But a beloved son?
A starless, vacuum-cold wind swirled about his heard. He withdrew to a place that was safe, without a heart that could break.
Almost as if he were speaking to himself as an afterthought, he muttered, "It is impractical for me to discuss marriage."
She still heard him. "And is that what you want? Marriage?"
"It is a possibility - now, a remote possibility." He didn't add that after Wesley found out, it would become an improbability.
The counselor's clear, understanding voice was compassionate and reassuring. "Don't wait to long to decide what to do, Captain. Beverly might still change her mind."
His severe look told her everything that she needed to know. He was profoundly and deeply in love with her friend. And it was the best thing that had happened to either of them in a very long time.
For the first time since she'd known Jean-Luc Picard, Deanna perceived that he might actually be re-evaluating and analyzing his position in life; what it had cost him to achieve it, and what the future price would be if he maintained it. It was time that the man who was unknowingly rewriting the manual on how to be a great starship captain, learned more about the man that he was capable of being.
Her voice was soft and caring as she interrupted his mental ruminations. "Who knows, traditions may change. The Enterprise might even survive one day having a captain who is married."
And with overpowering optimism and faith in his humanity, the counselor left the ready room, pleased with the knowledge that she had given her captain and friend, a shaking up.
"Or perhaps not," was his dark response after he watched Deanna leave.
He turned to gaze upon his beloved stars. The lessons he'd learned from his relationship with Nella still weighed heavily on his heart. Now that he had admitted his love for Beverly, how could he order her into danger? Either their situation changed, or Beverly would have to resign her Starfleet commission. She could still stay on board as CMO, but only as a civilian so she would not be obligated to risk her life when ordered to do so.
He mentally groaned, knowing that sooner or later he would have to have this discussion with Beverly. And he had more than a suspicion that she would not like the topic. Or his solution. Or be reasonable about it.
And then there still was the matter of Wesley…
=/\= ='/\'= =/\=
"I've never before taken you for a fool, Jean-Luc."
"What?"
He looked up from studying his almost empty glass, staring at Guinan as she polished a glass behind her bar. She was dressed in, what was for her, a subdued ensemble of rippling, stippled mocha fudge.
The outfit's color matched the captain's mood - muddied and muddled.
Ten-Forward was closed at the moment. Its only occupants were the captain and the barkeep.
"Don't force the issue with Beverly. Grow comfortable with the fact that you are lovers before you get around to dictating to her."
"I am the captain." He didn't care for Guinan's answering look. "What makes you think that I would dictate to Beverly?"
Guinan shook her head in disgust, her velveteen hat sproinging with each movement.
"You've ordered her into danger before. You will, in the future. Don't start restricting Beverly's movements. She'll comply - but she'll never really forgive you. And that will be the trial that will destroy your relationship."
"Guinan, why are you so helpful? Some would consider your actions contradictory."
"Surely, you know that I don't mind your lovers, Jean-Luc. Just as you didn't mind most of my husbands. It's our lasting relationship that counts."
She finished inspecting the glass in her hands, poured liquor into it and then shoved Jean-Luc's brandy toward him, moving aside his other empty glass.
"It's not synthehol. I thought that you might be needing the real thing tonight. Face the truth, Jean-Luc," she suggested. Then she inspected him.
"Do I pass muster?"
His bitter attitude surprised her.
"Don't take your frustrations out on me, Jean-Luc Picard." She leaned forward and looked directly into his stormy grey eyes. Her tone of voice was poisonously honest. "Don't hurt Beverly, or you'll wish that you'd never introduced us. She is my friend."
Then she smiled pleasantly. Sweetly.
Picard had always found these particular smiles to be most worrisome. "I hadn't realized that she was such a close friend of yours." His voice was neutral, hiding his surprise. There was a surreal nature to their conversation. "Besides, I thought that we were beyond friendship."
"We are. She is. Which is why I am going to break a confidence."
Claxons rang in his head.
"Perhaps you shouldn't."
Guinan ignored his words. "Jack Crusher was not her only choice."
Picard abruptly put down his snifter, sloshing some of the dark liquid onto the bar. He realized what he had done, and picked his goblet back up, sipping, acting as if he were still in control.
"What?" He was proud of the fact that his voice was steady.
"Oh, Beverly loved Jack. But, there was always something there with you, too. Wesley could have been your son, Jean-Luc."
Jean-Luc choked on his brandy. "Guinan, you go too far."
"Oh, really? I usually think of myself as pretty restrained." She smiled at him.
Jean-Luc was getting really tired of people smiling at him. "What is it, Guinan? Why did you see fit to inform me of matters that I already knew?" He was royally irritated.
"You're just fulfilling your destiny with Beverly, mon capitaine. You don't know how much joy it gives me to say that." She turned away from him and found some twizzlers with which to play. Pick-up sticks seemed appropriate.
Picard took umbrage. "Meaning." The word sounded like an order.
"Don't fight your fate, Jean-Luc. It could be better than you imagine."
He hesitated but forged ahead. "And what does your precognition tell you? Does the future include the Enterprise?"
"The fact that you could even ask that question is in itself your answer, Captain." She shook her head even as she studied him, with the knowledge of the ancients both past and future, in her eyes. "You've already had The Enterprise. For seven years. Change is inevitable."
He slowly nodded. "I suspected as much."
"Not right away, Jean-Luc. But, it is coming."
