July 13 – Afternoon
Beverly ran her hands over her dress uncertainly; despite Pat's assurances, she had her doubts – about the dress, she hastily told herself.
Not about this marriage.
Certainly not about this marriage, she insisted.
Drawing a deep breath, she forced herself to calm down – then looked around the courthouse parking lot, anxiously wondering where Pat was.
Not that she was too nervous to enter the building alone, she told herself. After all, it was only Jean-Luc waiting there for her.
Waiting… to marry her.
Marry me.
Oh, God, we're going to get married, she thought, a wave of pure panic rolling over her. I can't do this! It's too soon – too sudden!
Of course you can, the calmer part of her mind insisted; you married Jack – and in comparison to the time you've spent with Jean-Luc, you barely knew him.
And that was a good marriage, she reminded herself.
This will be good marriage as well, she added; Jean-Luc loves you, and you love him – and we are having a baby…
And that, she realized, was the problem.
She loved Jean-Luc, he loved her; in most circumstances, that alone would have been a good enough basis for a marriage.
It had been a good enough reason for her to marry Jack – and their marriage had been a good one. Oh, it had had its bad times, she reminded herself: they had had fights, disagreements, long periods when she had wither been engrossed in her studies or he had been away on a mission – but even so, their love had been enough to bring them back together.
But under these circumstances? she asked herself. Were they getting married because they loved each other – or because of the baby?
Or worse, were they getting married because they were two lost people who only has each other to cling to in a world four hundred years away from their real homes?
No, she decided, this wasn't right; they shouldn't be getting married.
Maybe later.
Maybe after the baby was born.
But not now. Not for these reasons.
She stared at the doorway – then started toward it.
She would tell him how she felt – and he would understand. He always understood.
It was one reason she loved him so much – but love him as she did, she still couldn't marry him.
Beverly pushed her way through the doors, knowing that she would hurt him once again – but knowing that this was the best decision for both of them – for all three of them.
Jean-Luc stared out the courthouse windows, thankful that the technology of this primitive world for such minor boons as the air conditioning that was keeping the foyer cool against the oppressive heat of the summer day – but even so, the shirt he wore beneath his suit coat was growing damp.
Not that he was nervous. After all, he faced down a fleet of Romulans, negotiated treaties while battles were erupting around him, watched his ship face imminent destruction – and never broke a sweat.
A little thing like marriage was nothing compared to those.
Marriage? Dear God, I'm getting married!
The realization sent a shock wave through him.
It wasn't that he didn't want to marry Beverly – he did. He loved her with all his heart and soul; loved her and loved the child they were going to have.
But marriage? To Beverly? What was he thinking?
She had been married before – and happily! How could he think that he could make her as happy as Jack had done?
Maybe in their own time, in their universe he could have done so; there, he had a position and a career – not only a way to support Beverly and their child, but also the respect of his peers – respect that would let Beverly know she was marrying someone who was a worthy mate.
Bu here? Here he was an elderly, part-time martial arts teacher – and one who would have been unable to survive beyond the poverty level without Beverly's income to bolster his.
Hardly suitable husband material for such a beautiful, intelligent and talented woman.
No, in this world, he couldn't provide for her – and while he was healthy enough now, his future was uncertain.
She deserved better, he thought; she deserved a husband who would be with her for years to come – and that won't be me.
I'll stay with her of course; help support her and care for our child – but when she finds someone who truly deserves her, I'll get out of their way.
She'll agree, he told himself; she'll understand – and she will agree.
She always understood. It was one reason he loved her so much.
He loved her – but he couldn't let her marry him.
Jean-Luc strode toward the entrance, wanting to stop Beverly before she got into the building, needing to let her know what he had decided ; she would be hurt, he knew – but it was what was best for her and for their child.
He reached the door just as she entered – and they both froze.
"You look… beautiful," he said in awestruck amazement.
"You look… handsome," she countered.
They fell silent, staring at one another.
Finally…
"Beverly…"
"Jean-Luc…"
They both spoke at the same time.
Beverly gave a soft laugh. "You first."
"No, you," he insisted.
"No, you please," she protested.
He stared at her for a moment – then realized he had no idea what he had wanted to say. "You look lovely," he finally repeated.
She blushed, then looked down at the ivory chiffon dress. "Not exactly what I had envisioned," she admitted.
"Envisioned?" he echoed.
Reddening, she met his gaze once more. "I… I did think wonder – once – about marrying you… "
They both fell silent, then he prompted, "You had something to say?"
She stared at him – then shook her head. "I forgot," she admitted.
He smiled then reached for her hand and raised it to his lips. "I love you," he whispered, kissing her hand softly.
"I love you, too," she answered.
They stared at one another for a moment, then Picard nodded toward the security area. "Are you ready?" he asked.
Beverly smiled. "Shouldn't we wait for Pat and Gy?"
Picard reddened. "Yes. Of course," he said.
"Nervous?" she asked.
"No!" he insisted instantly – then added. "Perhaps. A bit. You?"
"A little," she conceded.
He looked at her then sobered. "Beverly, are you sure you want to do this?"
She met his gaze – then nodded. "Yes. You?"
"Yes," he agreed.
"No doubts?"
"None," he answered sincerely. "And you?"
"None," she replied honestly.
A bright chuckle interrupted the two. Glancing in its direction, they saw Pat and Gy approaching, a small bouquet of flowers in one of her hands, a small box in the other.
"I have to admit I'm surprised to see you both here," she commented when she reached them. "I thought one – or both – of you might have had a case of last minute doubts."
The two looked at one another - then both shook their heads. "No. No doubts," Picard assured her as he gently squeezed Beverly's hand. "No doubts as all."
Pat smiled to herself; judging from the expression on Beverly's face as they were driving here, she suspected the woman wasn't going to make it inside the building – let alone all the way to John's side – and if Gy's assessment of John was to be trusted, the man was equally nervous.
But seeing them together… She sighed, knowing there were simply some people who were meant to be together. She had felt that way about her Christopher – and seeing John and Beverly here, now, she knew that there place was – and probably always had been – by each other's side.
By each other's side for good, she reminded herself – which meant getting them into the judge's chamber for the ceremony and not just standing in the foyer of the courthouse.
Time to get this show on the road, she told herself. "For you, Beverly," she said, handing a small bouquet of ivory flowers , then, opening the small box she carried, removed the single blossom and gestured to Picard. "And one for you," she said reaching for the lapel of his jacket, pinning the flower into place, then stepped back and appreciated the visage before her. "You clean up real good, John," she said with an approving nod.
He turned to her, a brow raised in confusion. "I beg your pardon?"
"She means you look good," Gy translated.
"Ah," Picard replied. "Thank you," he added, then glanced at his partner – his bride, he realized, a smile threatening to split his face in half. "But in comparison to Beverly, I am but a shadow, and a poor one at that."
She looked at him, and as their eyes met, a wash of certainty and contentment came over her.
I'm going to marry him, she thought; could anything ever have been more right?
She tightened her grasp on his hand.
Gy coughed uncomfortably. "Ummm… We better get going before you two decide to skip the wedding and get right to the honeymoon."
Pat smiled. "Gy?"
"Hmm?" he replied.
"They've already done that. That's why we're here – remember?" she said.
"Oh, yeah, right," he answered. "Well, come on," he said to the two, then turned and started for the security line.
Picard looked after him for a moment, then turned to Beverly. "Are you sure, Beverly? Is this what you really want?"
She met his gaze, hesitated, then nodded. "I'm sure. And you, Jean-Luc? Are you sure?"
He smiled. "I've never been as certain of anything in my life," he said, then raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. "I love you."
Giving an almost unnoticeable glance around them, Picard hesitated for a split second, then kissed her quickly.
"I'm sorry," he quickly apologized, only to hear her give a soft laugh.
"Don't apologize. I know you're trying to change," she said, "but you don't have to. Not for me. I love the man you are; I always have – and I always will. And that is the man I want to marry."
The two beamed at one another in utter and complete bliss, oblivious to everyone and everything around them.
Inwardly, Pat smiled at the two people before her – but outwardly, she gave a tired sigh.
"For crying out loud, you two! Would you stop talking about getting married and just do it already?" she exclaimed impatiently. With an unyielding grasp, she took one of Picard's arms, hooked it around her own, then reached for Beverly's other arm, and began marching the two across the room.