Author's Note: Sorry for the long delay between chapters – normal service has now been restored. Thanks for your patience.

She answered the door a long while after he'd rung for the third time.

Jean-Luc let his hand drop from where it was about to punch in the override code and gazed at his CMO. He hadn't seen her since their final meeting in the conference room with Tarmin, which had been many hours ago now. Immediately he noticed that her usually sparkling, brilliant blue eyes looked hollow and tired. "Beverly?" he said quietly.

With a listless flap of the hand she waved him inside. "I thought you were Deanna."

Yes, as I guessed. "Would that be so bad?" he replied, carefully moving past her into the room.

She shrugged as the door hissed closed behind him. "You tell me."

You're not particularly happy to see me, either, are you?

He exhaled a slow, patient breath. Knowing he wasn't the cause of her less than effusive welcome tonight he refused to let it faze him. Instead he took quick stock of her appearance. Despite her shift being long over she will still in uniform, although her lab coat lay discarded in a crumpled heap on the floor near the table. The paleness of her skin stood out in stark contrast to her auburn hair falling in waves to her shoulders and framing her delicate features.

To the causal observer she might look outwardly unruffled, but knowing her as well as he did he could pick out the thin lines around her eyes and mouth, the tension in her shoulders, and the way her body hunched slightly inward in an uncharacteristically defensive pose. She's more weary and stressed than she's letting on, Jean-Luc thought, and no wonder.

Beverly stood silently, enduring the scrutiny.

"I hoped you'd be asleep," he said at last, attempting unsuccessfully to mask the worry in his voice. It was very late, but somehow he'd known she would still be awake. That was, in fact, what had impelled his impromptu visit. He'd worn civilian clothes in hopes of conveying that he'd not come in any official capacity. But from her terse responses it seemed evident that Beverly was only suffering his presence tonight regardless.

Another slight shrug. "So did I."

"Have you slept at all since –" he paused for a moment, groping for any remotely diplomatic words with which to refer to what had transpired on the ship over the past three days.

"Since the Ullians came aboard and mentally raped Will and Deanna and me?" Beverly flashed. "No." Her chin rose and her eyes were smoldering.

There was no question in his mind she was now spoiling for a fight. Well, perhaps that's a good thing, he decided. She needs to start dealing with her anger somehow. Still he wasn't here to provoke an altercation. It wasn't in his nature and in any case it would only cause her to expend energy she clearly didn't have.

Jean-Luc thought back to their formal dinner in the observation lounge two days earlier when she'd teasingly suggested that he might ask the Ullians to probe his memories. At the time he'd been embarrassed and tempted to reprimand her for the inappropriately personal nature of her remarks. But now he just dearly wanted that mischievous, lighthearted Beverly back. He took a step forward. "Beverly, I –"

"Don't say you're sorry," she demanded through clenched teeth. "Don't you dare say that. None of this was your fault!"

By some stroke of good fortune there had been no physical damage done to Beverly or the others by the Ullian Jev's psychic attack. However, the mental trauma he'd inflicted would require time from which to recover. Jean-Luc was acutely aware that Beverly had been forced to deal with past traumas in her life – the tragedy of Arvada III, Jack's death – on her own. He was determined that, this time, she would not have to cope alone. He replied mildly, "I just wanted to say that I'm here for you. Whatever you need. I want you to know that."

"Oh," she said faintly. She appeared to visibly deflate before him. For a moment her control slipped and tears filled her eyes.

Aching to reach out to her, Jean-Luc forced himself to watch in silence as she clenched her jaw and then sharply shook her head as if to clear it. "Thank you, Captain, but I'll be fine." Her eyes dropped to the floor, avoiding his gaze.

"I'm not here as your captain, Beverly. I'm here as your friend." His normally silky voice was low and rough with suppressed emotion. The thought of what she had gone through the past few days agonized him like nothing else could.

She lifted her head on hearing the genuine warmth and concern suffusing his tone, and seemed to really look at him for the first time since he had arrived. Her shoulders relaxed. "Thank you, Jean-Luc." Then once again she shook her head, this time looking truly vexed. And once again tears threatened. "Only right now I can't –"

"It's all right," Jean-Luc rejoined soothingly. "There will be time for that later. Right now, just know that I am here, that you are cared for, and that we will get through this." He gathered her hands in his and gave the lean fingers a firm squeeze. "Together."

She nodded and returned the gesture with a slight pressure from her own fingers.

"Well, I won't keep you any longer, then," he added, reluctantly withdrawing his hands from hers. "It's already long past midnight. So get some sleep."

One shapely eyebrow rose at the authoritative note in his voice – not quite a command, but somehow not quite a suggestion, either.

He smiled gently in response. "That's not an order. That's a request – from a friend."

For the first time in three days he could see a glimmer of a smile in her eyes. "All right, I'll try."

Without allowing himself to think about it too carefully, Jean-Luc pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her waist, enfolding her into a hug.

A small sigh escaped Beverly's lips as her arms encircled his neck, holding him tight, pressing his body against her own.

Jean-Luc tilted his head slightly against hers in silent reassurance. For an instant he was lost in the sensation of simply holding her and he had to make himself take a step back even as his body wanted to linger, drawn to her proximity like a compass to true magnetic north.

"See you for breakfast in the morning?" she asked, her expression hopeful as they turned and walked together to the door.

His heart lifted. Good, she's already looking ahead rather than dwelling on what's past. "Count on it," he replied emphatically, relieved by the reappearance of that resilient side of her nature he knew so well and loved so much.

His feelings for her were only growing as they began to spend more and more time together out of uniform. Fortunately, though, he was also getting better at compartmentalizing them – except for times like these. I will help you get through this, Beverly. I need you to be well.

His companion must have seen something of the consternation in his eyes, for she reached out one hand to cup his cheek. "I'll be fine, Jean-Luc, really," she asserted, and he marveled that – after all she had just been through – she was now seeking to reassure him.

"I know," he whispered. I do know. I count on it. And now I must go, before I say or do too much. "Goodnight, Beverly."

"Goodnight, Jean-Luc."

"Come find me if you need anything."

This time the smile reached her eyes. "I will."

"Sleep well."

"You, too."

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