A captain depends on his intuition for many things. Whether it is noticing a minute inconsistency in the inertial dampeners or knowing when to put niceties aside and lay it all on the table, there are many things he must learn to trust his judgement for. No matter how much Starfleet training he has, no one can be prepared for everything that awaits him.

Jean Luc Picard reflected on this intuition as the sent of sun ripened grapes wafted beneath his nose in the chill night air. He had learned to trust his deeply, and believed that this was one reason his success had come so rapidly, and so deservedly. He was not a man to shy away from what others may interpret as a whim or fanciful notion. Rather, he knew when to trust his gut.

She was so beautiful, laughing there in the moonlight, her red hair glistening beneath the glittering stars. Her smile was radiant, and her blue eyes so full of life and hope. He was swept away merely by her presence. As she walked beside him, asking perfunctory questions about why the vines were tied in a certain manner and how the famous family wine was procured he wanted nothing more than to press a finger upon those beautifully chiseled lips and silence her with a soft and gentle kiss. Yet he knew he must not. His instinct told him that what would be lost would be far greater than what would be gained. So they wandered through the fields, him answering her questions as best as possible, the others, (he had almost forgotten about them) lagging behind and interjecting a comment now and then.

Suddenly Beverly stopped and glanced down at the chronometer she wore on her wrist, her eyes widening like Cinderella as the clock was striking her deadline at the ball. "What is it, Ms. Howard?" The question escaped his lips gently, and he did not allow himself to slip from formality into familiarity. Not yet at least. He needed time, first, to make his mind see her as something else. As the girlfriend of a future officer.

"Sir, I have a curfew that I must abide by," she blushed furiously, the effect making her only more desirable, "And I am afraid that I am going to miss it, as it expires in four minutes." She looked down at the ground, her face flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and remorse.

Picard knew of her plight. Mr. Crusher had let it slip in idle conversation. He refused to let her be expelled. With an air of authority, he tapped the badge he wore upon his chest. "Picard to Cadwalder."

"Cadwalder here, Sir. What can I do for you?" The Lieutenant had a familiar, perky air about her.

"Lieutenant, please contact Admiral Parsons at Starfleet Academy. Tell him that a cadet Beverly Howard will be arriving to campus late this evening as I have regrettably detained her with my droning blather."

"Aye sir." The connection cut off, and Picard smiled at Beverly. "Well, we had best send you home," he said, not quite able to hide the regret in his voice. "I'm sorry for keeping you."

Beverly smiled up at him, God that smile, and he hoped that he would not melt right there before her. "Thank you, Captain." She leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "I'm not sorry."

That said, she took Jack Crusher's hand, and along with Keel and Hessful the couple walked from the vineyard, leaving Picard more alone than he had ever felt in his life.

He had a nagging feeling that the man holding her hand ought to be him.

* * *

"I can't believe this," said Jack Crusher, his eyes wide with astonishment. "Not only did you charm the old burrhog into lying for you, you actually kissed him." Where some men would have been jealous, Jack looked thrilled, if slightly envious, as though he wished he could have been in Beverly's shoes. "Wow," he added, still breathless with excitement, "I'm glad you're not up against me for the Stargazer position. I wouldn't stand a chance. You might have scored some points for me though."

Beverly was annoyed. Though she loved theater, she hated drama. "Will you stop," she said, her voice sweet but her eyes icy. "I was just thanking him for what he did. If it wasn't for him I would be packing my things to leave as soon I stepped foot in my room tonight."

"Still, though…"

Beverly gave her boyfriend a look that silenced him. Tafton looked away, and Walker whistled under his breath. Beverly simply didn't want to hear anymore. She wanted to forget the whole thing had ever happened, for now she was embarrassed by it. She had gone too far. Captain Picard had said nothing after her lips brushed his skin, just stared at her in astonishment. She was horrified by her actions. She had allowed herself to be swept away by his gentle wisdom, his thrilling tales, and his simple kindness. She was ashamed of herself. And now she had ruined any chance of a friendship with that fine and noble man with one rash act.

The ride past in silence, Jack brooding over Beverly's sudden disagreeable nature, Walker sleeping off what he felt had been too long a day entirely, and Tafton staring at her date reverently as he slept. Beverly, for her part, was full of anguish and confusion. Next to her sat a man who loved her for everything she was and who believed in her. He listened to everything she had to say, he cared about what she felt, and he did everything in his power to make her happy. In the short time they had been together, she felt more fulfilled than she ever had with anyone else. And she loved him, she truly did. It surprised her, for it was so hard for her to love, yet Jack Crusher had driven her to it so easily.

Somewhere in the distance, fading rapidly, was a man she had known for but a flicker of time. One who had shown her kindness at every turn of events. He spoke with eloquence and self-assuredness, as though he knew his demons and had battled them all away. He was a man who had gotten what he deserved from life, and felt that the world owed him nothing. He was the man Jack aspired to. She knew she must drive him from her mind before everything was destroyed and yet the harder she tried the more insistently he seemed to come back.

She wondered if she would ever see him again.

She wondered if she really wanted to.

* * *

Mina Coldwell sat waiting as Beverly walked quietly through the door that night. "You're late," she said, an evil smirk twitching at the corners of her lips. "I took the liberty of packing some things for you." Beverly stared at the mound of boxes covering the floor, all e-labeled for return to Caldos. There was no evidence of her existence left in the room, save the covers on her bed. "I figured they were all too soft to throw you out in the middle of the night," Mina said by way of explanation.

Beverly said nothing, just pushed her way over to the bed and lay down upon it. She was too tired to pick a fight with Mina now, too tired to think, too tired to move. She closed her eyes, hoping sleep would claim her with merciful speed and save her from the internal battle her mind was waging that was making her nauseous.

Mina frowned, her brow furrowing. Beverly appeared not to care that the war her been won and that she had not been the victor. Indeed, she seemed resigned to her role as the loser. This was far from what she had been expecting, and she refused to let it rest without some kind of exegesis. "Don't you care?" She asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "If my life were over, I think I would be worried about something other than sleep."

Beverly turned and looked at her with fire in her eyes. "My life is far from over, Mina. My tardiness will be excused, and things will go on just as they always have, and I'll deal with them as they come. And if I can't deal with them, I'll escape them by getting some sleep and hoping for clarification in the morning. I only hope that you can do the same. Now, good night."

Mina just stared.