Comment: I know I have kept you waiting an unduly long time, and I am terribly sorry. I have been carrying this story with me all week long, Beverly and Jean-Luc were standing in a dark room, facing in each other, and they just refused to talk! I don't want to pretend I am overly satisfied with the final result, but it's the best I could come up with. I am also aware that I'm leaving you with an uncomfortable cliffhanger again, and I could understand it if you just loose your interest. All I can say is that I could and would not bring this to a hurried end. When it comes to personal feelings, Jean-Luc Picard can tend to be rather rigind, and as I see him, he is not bound to accept a big change in his staus quo so easliy. Tell me what you think about this!!
I hope precedent chapters warned you sufficiently that THIS IS GOING TO BE SAD!!!
Thanks for being patient, for reading, thanks for enjoying, thanks for reviewing. This is your work as much as mine.
Chapter 8: The last time
Unlike Will and Deanna, who used their personal overrides to walk into each others quarters as if they were their own, Beverly had never used her own to enter Jean-Luc's quarters. Neither had he used his. Always proper. Always familiar, though slightly restrained, always implying, but never giving in.
Always polite.
Until tonight. Tonight would be the first time for a lot of things. And maybe the last time for quite a few others.
When she walked in, he was standing at the window, looking out into space warping by. He didn't turn around, and Beverly knew he had been standing that way when Will left, and that he hadn't moved since then.
They had had difficult conversations before. Suddenly it seemed to Beverly they had had nothing BUT difficult conversations. About Jack, about Wesley, about illness and death, decisions to make, roads to take. And then, when the issue at stake wasn't dead serious, when there weren't deep ethical and philosophical problems involved, the loss of lives or the survival of the Universe as we know it, Jean-Luc seemed to loose interest. At least around her. For lighter entertainment there were the likes of Vash and other holodeck-novel-type sort of women.
Beverly shook her head and took a deep breath. Although she had meant to storm into the room and confront him with all the bitter reproaches that - so she thought - had piled up inside her over the years, she had forgotten about all that the minute she saw him standing there. He was just a man, and from where she was, he looked fragile, and quite lonely.
"Jean-Luc...", she began tentatively.
"What do you want?" He meant it to come out short and sharp, but his voice was so low Beverly had to strain her ears to hear it.
Coming closer, but still standing behind him, she matched her voice to his.
"I want this to stop."
The muscles in his back tensed.
"What is it you want to stop?"
Another step closer, her voice even lower, almost a whisper.
"All of it."
Finally, he turned to look at her. Neither of them had called for lights; his face lay in shadows and she could not read his expression. Probably he couldn't see the tears on hers, either.
Beverly laid a hand on his arm. "All of it, Jean-Luc."
He stepped back wordlessly and turned away.
"For heavens sake, don't you see what you're doing?"
"What *I* am doing? I would think this uncomfortable situation rather originates in what *you* are doing! You and..."
"Can't you even say his name? Oh, please, if we could just talk quietly for a minute... Come, sit with me, will you, Jean-Luc? This is not you, I know-"
"I have not changed, Beverly, I can tell you that, *I* have not changed!"
He was still standing in the shadows, but Beverly could hear the anger raising in his voice, parallel to her own. This was what she had wanted to avoid above all, the hurling back and forth of reproaches and recriminations. But they were both slipping into it with a terrifying easiness.
"No, and that's exactly the problem! You have been behaving in exactly the same ways and patterns for so many years, you don't even know you're doing it anymore. It was you who stood me up, remember?"
"Oh, that's nothing but a cheap excuse! We never fixed a date, I just said maybe we could go out for dinner..."
"You said you'd pick me up at seven!"
"How was I to know you would make such a big issue out of it? The invitation-"
"I don't want to hear it!! I - am - not - interested!!"
Very conscious that the conversation was turning into a teenage melodramatic farce, Beverly clenched her fists and breathed heavily. When she was calm enough, she spoke again:
"This is not about the date, and not about the invitation, and not about Vash, and you know it. I sincerely hoped we could talk about it because two persons I love very much are suffering. But if this is the way you want it, this is the way you'll have it. You will find my resignation as Chief Medical Officer of this vessel on your desk tomorrow at eight hundred hours."
"Lights!", he called. They both blinked for a moment, then she found him staring unbelievingly at her.
"You would do that for him?"
"I do it for me. Things have to change one way or the other, and if you don't want to help me, I'll have to do it on my own."
He did not move or speak, but Beverly noticed the almost imperceptible changes. Too long and too many times had she studied that face. His shoulders relaxed, the lines around his mouth softened, and a little shimmer of that warm, gentle, deep light so particular to him returned to his eyes.
"But... of course I want to help you, Beverly, you know I always will..."
"Yes, that's what I used to believe."
Finally, took a few steps towards her. Then, he sat down heavily on the sofa and stared on the ground.
"I am so tired, Beverly... What is it you all want from me?"
"We want back our captain - and our friend."
He looked up at her. Now that he had admitted about being tired and confused, the pain also showed clearly on his face.
"Why? Why did you have to do that? Why with Will?"
Beverly flinched inwardly and fought to remain calm.
"Why did I have to do what?"
"Have a one night stand. And with Will Riker, of all people!"
"Don't tell me you never had a one night stand."
"But that... that's different."
"Oh? And what's so different about it?"
Instead of answering her question, he crossed the room to where she was standing and took her hands in his.
"Listen... I really am tired and you are right: I have not been very... accessible these past few days, and I promise I will change that, and I promise I will forget about all this, if you promise me the same thing. Could we leave it at that?"
She didn't take away her hands, but looked steadily into his eyes and answered softly: "No."
I hope precedent chapters warned you sufficiently that THIS IS GOING TO BE SAD!!!
Thanks for being patient, for reading, thanks for enjoying, thanks for reviewing. This is your work as much as mine.
Chapter 8: The last time
Unlike Will and Deanna, who used their personal overrides to walk into each others quarters as if they were their own, Beverly had never used her own to enter Jean-Luc's quarters. Neither had he used his. Always proper. Always familiar, though slightly restrained, always implying, but never giving in.
Always polite.
Until tonight. Tonight would be the first time for a lot of things. And maybe the last time for quite a few others.
When she walked in, he was standing at the window, looking out into space warping by. He didn't turn around, and Beverly knew he had been standing that way when Will left, and that he hadn't moved since then.
They had had difficult conversations before. Suddenly it seemed to Beverly they had had nothing BUT difficult conversations. About Jack, about Wesley, about illness and death, decisions to make, roads to take. And then, when the issue at stake wasn't dead serious, when there weren't deep ethical and philosophical problems involved, the loss of lives or the survival of the Universe as we know it, Jean-Luc seemed to loose interest. At least around her. For lighter entertainment there were the likes of Vash and other holodeck-novel-type sort of women.
Beverly shook her head and took a deep breath. Although she had meant to storm into the room and confront him with all the bitter reproaches that - so she thought - had piled up inside her over the years, she had forgotten about all that the minute she saw him standing there. He was just a man, and from where she was, he looked fragile, and quite lonely.
"Jean-Luc...", she began tentatively.
"What do you want?" He meant it to come out short and sharp, but his voice was so low Beverly had to strain her ears to hear it.
Coming closer, but still standing behind him, she matched her voice to his.
"I want this to stop."
The muscles in his back tensed.
"What is it you want to stop?"
Another step closer, her voice even lower, almost a whisper.
"All of it."
Finally, he turned to look at her. Neither of them had called for lights; his face lay in shadows and she could not read his expression. Probably he couldn't see the tears on hers, either.
Beverly laid a hand on his arm. "All of it, Jean-Luc."
He stepped back wordlessly and turned away.
"For heavens sake, don't you see what you're doing?"
"What *I* am doing? I would think this uncomfortable situation rather originates in what *you* are doing! You and..."
"Can't you even say his name? Oh, please, if we could just talk quietly for a minute... Come, sit with me, will you, Jean-Luc? This is not you, I know-"
"I have not changed, Beverly, I can tell you that, *I* have not changed!"
He was still standing in the shadows, but Beverly could hear the anger raising in his voice, parallel to her own. This was what she had wanted to avoid above all, the hurling back and forth of reproaches and recriminations. But they were both slipping into it with a terrifying easiness.
"No, and that's exactly the problem! You have been behaving in exactly the same ways and patterns for so many years, you don't even know you're doing it anymore. It was you who stood me up, remember?"
"Oh, that's nothing but a cheap excuse! We never fixed a date, I just said maybe we could go out for dinner..."
"You said you'd pick me up at seven!"
"How was I to know you would make such a big issue out of it? The invitation-"
"I don't want to hear it!! I - am - not - interested!!"
Very conscious that the conversation was turning into a teenage melodramatic farce, Beverly clenched her fists and breathed heavily. When she was calm enough, she spoke again:
"This is not about the date, and not about the invitation, and not about Vash, and you know it. I sincerely hoped we could talk about it because two persons I love very much are suffering. But if this is the way you want it, this is the way you'll have it. You will find my resignation as Chief Medical Officer of this vessel on your desk tomorrow at eight hundred hours."
"Lights!", he called. They both blinked for a moment, then she found him staring unbelievingly at her.
"You would do that for him?"
"I do it for me. Things have to change one way or the other, and if you don't want to help me, I'll have to do it on my own."
He did not move or speak, but Beverly noticed the almost imperceptible changes. Too long and too many times had she studied that face. His shoulders relaxed, the lines around his mouth softened, and a little shimmer of that warm, gentle, deep light so particular to him returned to his eyes.
"But... of course I want to help you, Beverly, you know I always will..."
"Yes, that's what I used to believe."
Finally, took a few steps towards her. Then, he sat down heavily on the sofa and stared on the ground.
"I am so tired, Beverly... What is it you all want from me?"
"We want back our captain - and our friend."
He looked up at her. Now that he had admitted about being tired and confused, the pain also showed clearly on his face.
"Why? Why did you have to do that? Why with Will?"
Beverly flinched inwardly and fought to remain calm.
"Why did I have to do what?"
"Have a one night stand. And with Will Riker, of all people!"
"Don't tell me you never had a one night stand."
"But that... that's different."
"Oh? And what's so different about it?"
Instead of answering her question, he crossed the room to where she was standing and took her hands in his.
"Listen... I really am tired and you are right: I have not been very... accessible these past few days, and I promise I will change that, and I promise I will forget about all this, if you promise me the same thing. Could we leave it at that?"
She didn't take away her hands, but looked steadily into his eyes and answered softly: "No."