"Beverly is your wife?"
"Yes. We got married."
"And do you remember that?"
Jean-Luc looked away from the counselor, studied the floor in front of him.
"Jean-Luc?"
He felt her hand on his knee. She wanted him to look up, but he didn't. She wanted him to answer her question. But he couldn't. No, he could. He just didn't want to. Because he couldn't. He couldn't remember marrying Beverly. But he knew they were married. She was his wife.
"She's my wife," he said again, holding to the knowledge.
Deanna rubbed his knee. "Yes, she is your wife. And don't worry, you'll remember."
He sighed, felt his shoulders relax. Slowly, he looked up at the dark-haired woman. Deanna. Her name was Deanna.
"Do you have any questions, Jean-Luc? About you and Beverly?"
He shrugged. He didn't think he had any questions.
"If you don't have any, that's all right," Deanna reassured him when she saw the puzzled look on his face. "Why don't we go to the holodeck for a little while?" she suggested.
He nodded in agreement, although he really wanted to go to Sickbay. All the talk about Beverly made him miss her. Since he'd finally learned to dress himself, they'd been to Sickbay a lot. He liked it there, even if all he did was sit and watch Beverly work. Sometimes the people who came in would talk to him, or look at him funny. It made him feel a little uncomfortable, but that was all right as long as Beverly was there.
"I've got to go to the bathroom before we leave," Deanna was saying as she stood up and headed toward the next room. "I'll just be a minute."
A minute was all it took for Jean-Luc to leave his quarters. He didn't think about how worried Deanna would be when she found him gone. He didn't think about the fact that he'd never gone anywhere by himself. All he thought about was Beverly. And he knew how to find her. He'd been to Sickbay before. He had to get on one of the… turbolifts. Yes, that's what Deanna called them. Turbolifts.
"All right, are you-" Deanna froze as she stepped into the room. Without even looking around, she knew that it was empty. "Troi to Sickbay."
Beverly's voice answered. "Deanna, is everything all right?"
"Beverly, Jean-Luc as left the cabin. I think he may be headed in your direction."
"I see. I'll alert Will and start looking for him from this end." Beverly remained calm, although Deanna detected an edge to her voice.
"And I'll trace over our usual path to Sickbay. Troi out."
~vVv~
Nothing looked familiar. He couldn't find the turbolift, and the empty corridors turned and twisted. Every time he thought he was taking the right turn, it took him nowhere. He felt as if he'd been walking in circles for hours, and he was tired and angry. Mostly at himself. He should never have left the cabin alone. He knew that. And when they found him, he would be in trouble. But that was all right. He just wanted them to find him.
He stopped and pressed his back up against a wall. He didn't know which way to go anymore. All the corridors looked the same.
And he just wanted Beverly.
He felt the tears gathering in his eyes, and he slid down into a sitting position, his fists clenched on top of his knees. Slowly, he began to rock.
"Beverly," he whispered, taking comfort from the sound of her name, the feel of it on his lips. "Beverly."
Tears rolled silently down his cheeks, and it hurt to breathe. He squeezed his eyes closed – and waited.
~vVv~
If he'd been wearing a communicator, they could have found him easily. If they'd been more careful with the security lock on the door, this wouldn't have happened. If she'd been with him, instead of in Sickbay, he wouldn't have left in the first place. Beverly silently chastised herself as she made her way back to their quarters.
Once on Deck Eight, she took a circuitous route, suspecting that he may never have left it. And she was right. She rounded a bend in the corridor, and there he was: sitting on the floor next to the wall, rocking, head buried against his knees. She went and knelt beside him.
"Jean-Luc?" She put her hand on his shoulder, felt him shaking.
He looked up, green eyes clouded with tears. When he realized it was her, he pressed himself into her arms, holding on tightly to the loose fabric of her medical jacket. His crying seemed to increase, tears of relief, perhaps.
Beverly rocked him and murmured soothing words, kissing his cheeks and forehead, hands smoothing along his back and neck. After long minutes, he relaxed and grew quiet.
"Let's go home, Jean-Luc," she said softly, helping him to his feet.
And with his hand in hers, she led him back to their quarters.
~vVv~
