Beverly paced her quarters, her mind flying off in a million directions. Her fingers danced nervously across the hem of her dress uniform in a physical manifestation of the frenetic pace of her thoughts.
She made another circuit of the open space and checked her chronometer. They'd thought, for appearance's sake, that taking their separate leaves from the reception was the wisest course, but now that she was back on board the ship and Jean-Luc was nowhere in sight, she wished she'd simply used their power of mutual proximity and dragged him away from the affair.
She smiled wryly as she acknowledged one of the 'perks' of her relationship with the captain. Ever the consummate diplomat, Jean-Luc would speak cordially with anyone and everyone who approached. However, it was as though the galaxy had somehow reached a universal accord that when he was speaking with her, no one would even consider interrupting or joining the conversation.
Her door chimed and she spun to face it, heart racing. She took a calming breath and attempted to order her thoughts. Possibilities and ramifications, and even conspiracies, flittered through her head and she worried she wouldn't be able to articulate anything in a way that made sense.
"Come," she said, reconciling herself to the fact he'd have to do his best to follow along as she tried to explain her jumbled thoughts.
The door opened and Jean-Luc stepped through, looking thoroughly dashing in his dress uniform. Her pulse skittered and she told herself it was the result of her conversation with the President, and not a physiological response to the man striding toward her.
"I'm here," he said, just as he'd said two hours earlier on the surface.
-P/C-
Beverly had begun to scan the reception hall as soon as the President left her side. Alarm bells rang in her head—her mind making them sound annoyingly similar to the blasted Hrashellian alarms that had started the whole misadventure—as she searched the crowd for Jean-Luc.
She spotted him next to the coffee service surrounded by a small group of officers currently based out of Command. She swiftly made her way across the room, keeping to the periphery with the hope of avoiding anyone who might want to talk with her.
She'd gotten within twenty feet of the coffee service when Dr. Hilldebrandt waylaid her.
"Dr. Crusher!" he'd called out, forcing her to slow her pace and take her gaze off her captain.
"Dr. Hilldebrandt," she replied as she came to a halt.
The current head of Starfleet Medical smiled as he stepped in close to her side. "I'm very relieved the panel exonerated you."
She smiled politely. "Thank you. It came as a huge relief to me as well."
"I would have hated to lose such a competent physician from my staff. In fact, I was hoping we could have a chat about your current posting before the Enterprise leaves. I'm beginning to think your talents are being wasted on board a ship, and you'd be able to do more—perhaps even advance your career—here, at Medical."
Beverly chewed on the inside of her cheek, resisting the urge to remind him she'd already served—with commendation—at Medical as Surgeon General. Despite the current tarnish to her reputation, her service record didn't need a 'leg up' from Hilldebrandt.
"I'm afraid any conversations around my posting in Starfleet will have to wait at least six months," she replied. "The panel only exonerated me on four charges. The fifth, insubordination, stuck and they've placed a posting and promotion freeze on me."
Hilldebrandt frowned. "I could—"
She shook her head. "Honestly, I'm not terribly interested in leaving, Doctor. I'm happy serving where I am."
He opened his mouth to speak, but then something—someone—behind her right shoulder caught his eye.
"I'm here," Jean-Luc whispered as he came to stand beside her.
"Captain Picard," she replied. "Allow me to introduce you to Dr. Jacob Hilldebrandt, the current Acting Surgeon General."
Jean-Luc smiled and held out his hand. "A pleasure to meet you, Doctor. My CMO has shared with me some of the details of the work you've been doing while holding down the office."
Hilldebrandt stood taller with what he clearly took as praise. "Thank you, Captain."
Beverly struggled to keep her expression neutral. The last thing she'd told Jean-Luc about Dr. Hilldebrandt was how he'd "fixed" the patient data reporting protocols, resulting in a more than ten percent increased inefficiency.
"Dr. Hilldebrandt was just telling me he sees a future for me at Medical," Beverly said, fixing her gaze on Jean-Luc. She resisted the urge to smile as the universal accord settled into place. Dr. Hilldebrandt hadn't realized it yet, but his conversation with her was over.
"Your considerable skills would be of benefit anywhere, Doctor," Jean-Luc said. His body language remained perfectly relaxed and professional, but the look he gave her clearly showed alarm at the thought she might leave the Enterprise again.
She shifted her weight to her right side, bringing her arm within a laser scalpel beam of brushing against his chest. The look she gave him said, there's no way in hell I'm going anywhere. Aloud, she said, "I had to disappoint him by letting him know about the disciplinary posting and promotion freeze in my file."
Jean-Luc nodded. "And so, the Enterprise will be your home for a while longer."
Forever, she thought at him.
Dr. Hilldebrandt cleared his throat.
Jean-Luc glanced at the Acting Surgeon General and, as per the universe's directive, the doctor suddenly decided he had somewhere else to be. He nodded at both of them and then stepped back into the mingling crowd.
Alone with Jean-Luc for the first time all evening, she leaned in and whispered, "Jean-Luc, we have a problem."
"Another court martial?" he replied, his eyes twinkling.
She shook her head and when she didn't join in on the amusement he instantly shifted to high alert.
"I just spoke with the President," she said. "There's something I need to tell you."
-P/C-
Beverly forced her hands to still as Jean-Luc closed the gap between them. Concern and contrition flitted across his features. Contrition won out.
"Doctor, I am sorry. I had hoped to be able to escape much sooner."
She shook her head and tried to order her thoughts. At the risk of sounding melodramatic, she blurted, "Jean-Luc, you've made a very powerful enemy."
He tilted his head and considered her words. "I think 'enemy' might be a bit too strong a word," he said, "but—"
She cut him off with a shake of her head. "No, it's not. Your ability to summon almost a third of the Federation's top political figures to serve your purpose—not for the wider guiding principles of the organization, but for your own personal agenda—terrified her."
He shook his head.
"Jean-Luc, the power—"
"It wasn't entirely mine. Lwaxana—"
"She may have helped put the call out, but none of those ambassadors would have heeded it and traveled all the way here if your name didn't have the power to persuade them to do so."
"I'm not interested in any political 'power' I might, or might not, possess," he replied.
Beverly shook her head. He wasn't understanding her.
"Jean-Luc, President Sor'Guhl believes I should have been drummed out of Starfleet and barred from ever serving again."
Beverly watched as Jean-Luc stifled whatever it was he'd intended to say, and followed the ramifications of her words. She could almost see his mind turn as he explored the various paths her words revealed. He seemed to consider some, eliminate others, and—just as she had—eventually reach a highly unpleasant conclusion.
She tried not to shiver as the weight of their situation—his situation—settled over her again.
"I see," he said.
"I'm so sorry—"
"Nonsense," he said, cutting her off. "If anyone should be apologizing over this, it's me."
"You?" Beverly asked, puzzled.
"The President used you as a pawn in her game," he said, his voice warming with anger at the notion. "A game, I might add, I had no idea we were playing."
Beverly shook her head. Dread filled her, threatening to cut off air to her lungs, but she forced her voice to remain steady as she said, "Jean-Luc, I'm worse than a pawn, I'm a ticking time bomb."