Picard woke early in the next morning, following an evening that had far surpassed any fantasies he may have held, while also showing itself to be the most emotionally satisfying culmination of their companionship. The sunlight of the breaking day was faint and hazy as it cast a pleasant film in the cottage's bedroom.
Coming more to his senses as he awoke, he felt a warm weight strewn across his chest, and looking down, he saw the sleeping form of Beverly Crusher. The rise and fall of her chest was nearly mesmerizing, and he gently stroked her hair as he placed a warm kiss on her scalp.
His movement caused Beverly to stir, and as she opened her eyes and took in her immediate surroundings, briefly wondering if the night before had been a dream, she tightened her grip around Picard's torso.
"Morning," she murmured drowsily, turning her face into his chest.
"Good morning, my love."
The sound of his voice and the endearment made her smile.
"My love?" she asked. "I like that."
He hummed in response and moved his hands from her hair to her back in a light hug.
This was the kind of awakening that Beverly decided she could get used to. Not just the previous night's activities, but the comfort and familiarity of waking in her lover's arms. A part of her did wonder how this was going to translate to their everyday lives back on the Enterprise.
Would they move in together? She hoped so, though Beverly thought that particular detail would likely work itself out in time, after they returned onboard. Would their affections and relationship be limited to the privacy of one of their quarters? She knew to expect Jean-Luc's reluctance to show anything other than the Captain on the ship, but she also knew that he was fairly unaware of the gossip surrounding their relationship. Gossip that dated back to their first year on the Enterprise. Of course, though, they hadn't discussed this part yet, so Beverly tried to chase the thought away by snuggling a bit closer to Jean-Luc, allowing her thought to drift to their friends' reactions.
She smirked a bit to herself. Will would likely offer that big smile of his with some comment along the lines of "finally". Geordi and Guinan too. Deanna kind of already knew where this shoreleave was going, thanks to their time in Ten Forward before docking. She knew Deanna would be pleased to see that they had both finally acknowledged their feelings for each other and done something about it. Beverly definitely looked forward to that conversation.
The pleasant thoughts led Beverly into a dozing state, to the point where she fell back asleep, with Jean-Luc's return to the rhythmic stroking of her hair pulling her into pleasant dreams.
After the couple woke up again later in the morning, Jean-Luc suggested going to one of the cafés in town near the landing port for breakfast. Beverly had readily agreed.
They strolled down the path that led into town, hand-in-hand. The sun was already beating down on the planet, as it had the previous day, so both Beverly and Jean-Luc were dressed in airy attire that, while not made for a long hike, was perfect for the heat. They conversed in light chatter, briefly wondering how their friends were doing with their R and R, and they definitely exchanged more than a few light kisses along the way.
When they arrived at the small restaurant, the host, a native to the planet who was bestowed with a scaly-purple colored skin, led the couple to a table on the far side of the café. It was just secluded enough that Beverly and Jean-Luc would not be spotted by any errant Enterprise officers on their own shore leave. The last thing that the couple needed was the prying eyes of a junior officer. That news would spread quicker than any plague they could pick up on an away mission.
Sitting closer at the table than they habitually did back on the Enterprise for their shared breakfasts, Jean-Luc laid a hand on Beverly's knee under the table as a source of comfort and grounding. Jean-Luc also thought that he could almost feel the content radiating off of Beverly, even though he was well aware that he did not possess Counselor Troi's empathic abilities.
Gazing at his breakfast partner, Jean-Luc allowed himself to appreciate the laid-back attire they had both donned for the day. Beverly was wearing a loose, gray top and black shorts and he was sporting a green v-neck with dark pants. He had chosen the shirt he wore after hearing Beverly's hum of approval as he had passed over the clothes he had packed for their trip.
Jean-Luc found that he equally appreciated the sight of Beverly in relaxed, comfortable clothing, as it seemed to have a similar effect on her as it did him. They were both more at ease with their surroundings and each other. The matter of that ever-present gaze from the crew was something that Jean-Luc knew they were going to have to discuss, as Beverly likely did as well, and it was not something that he wanted Beverly to feel seconded to. Jean-Luc was aware that this was something Beverly might be worried about, and he wanted to rectify it as soon as possible. This semi-private meal would give them the time and space away from the activities back at the cottage to have that conversation.
His virulent need for privacy, particularly from those outside of the senior officers, was something that he did not want hindering the growth of their relationship from here on out. It would be something that he would have to deal with, and Jean-Luc knew that Beverly's presence in his everyday life, one that he hoped meant their sharing quarters - permanently - would be the catalyst and good reason for that to change.
Relying on the small contact he had maintained with Beverly at the table allowed Jean-Luc to push down the rise of anxiety he felt at the circulating thoughts. Part of allowing themselves to be closer would mean more scrutiny. Jean-Luc certainly would never insist on maintaining a strictly private relationship with Beverly like he had with Nella Daren.
Of course, he had realized soon after that short relationship that, while he had cared for Nella, he hadn't truly loved her. Certainly not the way or extent to which he loved Beverly. He realized in his short stupor that perhaps his need to keep that relationship private, to a fault, had stemmed partly from a desire to keep it from Beverly, even though she had clearly given her blessing. The thought of hurting her in any way made his stomach churn, and he found himself desperately wanting her to know that this togetherness would last beyond shoreleave and would not be relegated to behind closed doors on his account.
Their server for that morning placed two pads on the table presumably containing the establishment's menu, drawing Jean-Luc out of his head and back into the present. Beverly discreetly laid her hand over his on her knee and gently squeezed it with understanding at his slightly sheepish smile after their server departed again.
Taking the waiter's exit as his own cue following the gnawing train of thought, Jean-Luc leaned his face close to Beverly's and gently rubbed his nose against hers before pressing a short, sweet kiss to her mouth.
A bit startled by the open show of affection, Beverly hesitated for only a second before returning the kiss and pulling her head away only far enough to where she could look him in the eye.
"That was … unexpected Jean-Luc. I know you're not fond of public displays, not that I'm complaining of course," she said.
"Well Beverly, that's what I've been meaning to bring up with you this morning. I believe you caught the end of my inner monologues," he admitted, still sporting the shy smile. "I want you to know that, if you feel comfortable of course, I don't intend for our sharing a life together to be a secret. Not that we could keep it that way for long with Will and Deanna on our case," he said. The relieved look on her face released a wave of relief in Jean-Luc's own mind.
"That's good to hear, Jean-Luc," she said, lifting their joined hands onto the table. Smiling now with good humor, Beverly addressed the second part of his statement. "You do know that it's going to take Will about two minutes to figure out what's changed between us. Deanna even less, even if you try to hide your emotions."
Jean-Luc let out a small laugh that met his eyes. "I suppose you're right. Silly of me to even consider keeping something from Number One."
His relaxed nature that morning had a similar effect on Beverly, and she found that she could get used to this care-free feeling, even if some of it would be sacrificed as usual when they returned to the Enterprise.
The rest of the morning spent at the café saw the couple ordering their usual coffee and croissants despite the wide variety of options offered without a replicator. They passed the time with their meals and shared affections, even if still somewhat hesitant at first, though they grew bolder towards the end - within what was appropriate for their location of course. As they relished their time together, the couple did not realize that they had long-ago forgotten their communicator badges on the shuttle, essentially cutting them off from direct communication with the Enterprise, leaving them completely unaware of the latest concerning development on the ship.
"What do you mean the holodeck's locked?!" Riker yelled at the computer.
"Controls to Holodeck Three are currently inoperational," the ship's computer replied blankly. Though, if Riker didn't know any better, he would have thought that the computer was teasing him. Especially with the situation the group had found themselves in this time.
Data's program had started out innocently enough. The officers had found themselves dressed in what was apparently "casual" attire from the 1960s. Worf had briefly scoffed at the material, but at Data's insistence of its accuracy, he had relented in favor of continuing. Geordi had informed them that they were to start in a town known as Ilium, New York, which had been a favored fictional location of Vonnegut's, and what Data had concluded to be the most logical place to set the program.
Along the way they had met interesting character after interesting character. One had been vehemently insistent on the point that there were in fact aliens from some planet whose name Riker could not even begin to recognize nor repeat correctly. This person had been a gangly, shy man that had reminded Will of their compatriot Reginald Barclay. He had, perhaps mistakenly, voiced this thought to Deanna, only to earn a disapproving response both in her face and her thoughts.
His Imazadi's scolding aside, Will had rather enjoyed the program as the group spent time observing the ongoings of the characters. It had been a mostly pleasant, if not strange, experience up until the moment Data had approached a rather odd fellow sitting with a worn-down birdcage on the porch of an ancient house. Upon seeing Data and what the character likely perceived to be "irregularities" in the android's appearance, the disheveled man had gone wide eyed and looked as though he had finally come face-to-face with either a devil or a god he hadn't believed in before that moment.
Backing away from Data's perplexed gaze and innocent tilt of his head, the man let out a scream, causing his parakeet to squawk unhappily from his perch on top of the cage. The bird's presence outside of the confines of the wires had been interesting to Riker, but had noticeably perturbed Worf as he grunted disapprovingly at the bird's antics. The bird flew around the man's head as he let his arms drop from their comically placed position around his skull and he stopped long enough to face Data with a scrutinizing gaze.
"Are.. are you some kind of robot?" the man asked.
"In a manner of speaking, yes. I am an android, though, not a robot. I was created by my father, Doctor…" Data started before he was cut off by the hologram in front of him.
"My god," the man breathed. "They've done it. They've really done it. My stories have come true! Oh, what does this mean for humanity? We're doomed, I say!"
Data's brow furrowed at the man's ranting. "Sir, who has done what? I am afraid I do not know your name yet either."
"Hmm…? Oh yes, the name's Trout. Kilgore Trout. You see, I'm just a washed-up old trade writer who only ever gets published in those dirty magazines. Well, those scientists somewhere must read them, because you're standing in front of me! Golden skin and all!"
"Data…" Geordi started warningly. "Wasn't Kilgore Trout one of Vonnegut's alter-egos?"
"You are correct to an extent Geordi. From my own readings prior to crafting the program, I found that Trout both served as a foil to Vonnegut's own voice in his work, and as a representation of other 'trade' writers of Vonnegut's time. I am uncertain how the program will react to Trout's realizations of my existence. It is calibrated for response, to a certain degree, to the thoughts of the holographic characters. In a sense, Trout was a very powerful character in much of Vonnegut's work, even 'meeting' the author in a way, at one point. I did not anticipate the translation into the holodeck's systems."
As Data finished speaking, Trout's frantic actions started up again, and with that, noticeable glitches in the program's functions began as well. Buildings started to crumble, and characters started blinking in and out of their holographic existences.
"Data, I thought you said this program was monitored," Riker said with agitation.
"It is sir. Though, I did not account for Trout's ability to interfere with the program. If we can locate Lieutenant Barclay, he may be able to stabilize the holodeck so that Trout does not affect it."
"Alright," Riker sighed and tapped the combadge he had hidden under his tunic.. "Commander Riker to Lieutenant Barcaly." The combadge only responded with a few dejected gurgles. "Comms are down," Riker said, shaking his head.
Trout continued his muttering and started drawing erratically in the dirt near the steps to the porch he had been seated on. Each action had a response on the holodeck.
At the same time Riker called out to the computer, unbeknownst to any of the senior officers, the Enterprise suddenly jumped into warp, leaving Silvestria Prime, and her Captain and Chief Medical Officer, behind and the ship in control of yet another holographic character whose sentience had yet to be determined.