OK, so the M'dar storyline isn't wrapped up. But you know how fickle
writing is - it was time to move forward. I've already got the plot for the
conclusion in my head, so maybe someday it will find its way out. I left
some plot points purposely vague - please let me know if it's confusing.
Thanks for R/R!
***********
Sabotage III Chapter Four
***********
"Once again, Captain, I have to congratulate you and your crew. Well done." The compliment seemed to pain Necheyev as she spoke.
"I'll pass on your sentiments, Admiral." Picard's expression was amused. "What is the progress with the M'dar?"
"Your work on the Enterprise has helped us capture the majority of saboteurs in the rest of the fleet. But we can't be certain. The corruption went much further than we'd suspected. To be perfectly honest, Captain, the M'dar have been more successful that Starfleet will ever admit." Necheyev seemed even more put out. It was not a proud moment for Starfleet or the Federation.
"Publicly, in any case." Picard leaned forward. "Admiral." He paused dramatically. Though he would not admit it, the dramatic pause was one of his favorite indulgences. Necheyev waited patiently. "Now that we have uncovered the alliance with the Cardassians, I believe we may have gained the advantage in the situation."
"How so, Captain?" Necheyev was appropriately intrigued.
**********
"All's well that ends well then, Jean-Luc?" Beverly raised her glass.
Picard met her gesture and her eyes, and they both finished what they'd had left in their glasses after dinner.
"We're not quite to the end of the chapter, but I think we may finally outmaneuver the M'dar."
Crusher waved her hand as she stood to clear the table. "Semantics."
Picard chuckled. Unless it happened to be the finer points of the prime directive or a medical matter, Crusher was not one for details. He rose to help, and in minutes they were seated on opposite ends of the sofa.
Beverly smiled. "Shall we be magnanimous in victory, or revel in each of the brilliant details?" Pulling her legs up under her, she giggled. "I particularly enjoyed revealing to Walker that the M'dar were about to sell him up the river. He had no idea they'd double crossed him."
Picard chuckled. "Necheyev seemed pleased." His smile faded and his eyes darkened. "But I would not be so quick to claim the spoils. These past months have cost me something I cherish."
Crusher began to feel apprehensive, a tight ball forming in the pit of her stomach. She traced the rim on her glass of tea with a delicate finger. "Oh?"
Picard's expression was pleasant, but there was much unspoken in his eyes and the lines around them. "I spent more time than I cared to without the company of a good friend."
Now Crusher smiled easily. Picard had deposited them back on firm and familiar ground. Setting her tea on the table, she leaned over and took his hands. They did not speak - they did not need to. The instant before the contact became too significant, Crusher drew back. Her timing was impeccable, and came with practice. Now it was appropriate for her to stand, stretch, and politely excuse herself. But she realized that she was not yet ready to go.
Picard realized that it would be one of their rare late evenings. Infrequently, one or both of them would not be ready to depart so quickly after dinner. Perhaps she had lost a patient that day, or he a crewman. The reasons were various, but the results always precarious. Departing from their typical patterns opened them up to atypical conversations and awkward pauses. At times it seemed there was nothing left unsaid between them - at others there seemed volumes of untold mysteries.
He broke his reverie long enough to notice that she was perched cross- legged on the couch, delicate hands on her lap, merrily twinkling eyes fixed on him. He rose and walked to his desk, her gaze following him curiously. He pulled open a drawer and withdrew a small object that he palmed, and then walked back over to sit again. He opened his hand and held it to her, revealing a bright copper penny, one of the first minted in a Terran nation that had been known as the United States. She laughed as she took it from his hand, and began turning it over in hers.
"It's a replica, unfortunately. It seems the expression survived longer than the artifact."
"Well, it's priceless." She unfolded herself and wrapped him in a hug. "Thank you, Jean-Luc." She sat back and resumed her careful perch. He had opened the door - it was up to her to walk through it. "I suppose it did all come out right in the end. But the road was a rough one. I've been spending a lot of time being very angry at Jack Walker, because I think I'm not ready to accept what will happen when I no longer have that anger."
He regarded her, but did not speak. He sensed that she had more to say. Raw and unsolicited confession was not native to either of them, and fostering it required maintaining an infinitely delicate balance of emotion between the participants.
Crusher turned and gazed out the view port. "I was so mad at you, Jean-Luc. Now I'm not mad at you, but I am furious with myself. And all that anger takes up so much room." She struggled to articulate the swirl of emotions that had encircled her. Then she recklessly thrust herself onto very thin ice, gliding past all the warning posts and ignoring the cracks beneath her. "When Jack died, I felt that same anger. At Jack, Starfleet, you, me, everything and everyone. And it sustained me for so long. When I first came onboard the Enterprise, I was still clinging to shreds of it. Then, I went away to Starfleet Medical, and suddenly I had nothing - nothing at all. The anger was gone - it had been worn away by the friendships and my work on the Enterprise. I realized that I missed the ship, and everyone on it. I missed Wesley. I missed you." She now met his gaze and smiled crookedly. "And despite all that missing, I felt whole again, and I had not experienced that in a long time." Her eyes were desperate.
She was exhausted by the weight of all she had unburdened. Picard recognized the offering for what it was, and wisely did not try to comment. Nothing he had to say would contribute to the significance of another's experience. It was the reason words of comfort so often felt hollow. Instead, he took her hands and met her eyes. "Thank you, Beverly."
For an instant she took back one hand to wipe at an errant tear, but was quick to replace it in his firm grasp. "I suppose you're welcome. But for what I am not sure."
"I suppose you haven't figured it out yet, but you have forgiven me, at least in your heart." He took both her hands in one of his and covered them with the other. "You have forgiven me for more than I ever would have asked. And that is a priceless gift indeed."
This kind of conversation was what arose when they stepped out of the agreed upon boundaries of their relationship. They sat motionless and silent, neither sure about how to continue. Beverly's eyes were clear and crystalline, warmed by the auburn locks that tumbled around her face. Picard's hazel eyes were small, but powerful and beautiful. Their color invariably betrayed his mood to her, and they were now the purest and deepest green.
"Then we're even, Jean-Luc." Her delicate lips parted in a smile. Her words unlocked the spell, and they breathed again. "Well."
An unspoken conversation passed between them, and they rose, acknowledging that the evening had come to a close.
"Breakfast?" She turned to leave before he responded. The question was perfunctory. She knew the answer. As she glided toward the door, he caught her arm. She turned again, her face a mask of surprise her heart did not feel. She knew what he would say now, in the same way she knew the answer to her previous question.
"Beverly." She simply raised an eyebrow. She'd said her peace for the evening. It was his turn.
Suddenly the floor rushed out from under her, and the room flew away. Her heart almost hurt it was beating so hard, and her stomach danced. He was kissing her gently but insistently, and it was wonderful. They flew past the point of chaste, rounded passionate, and careened right into lustful. All the while their contact stayed delicate, his hands on her face and hers on his waist. Crusher heard the familiar klaxons blaring in her head, but instead of willing herself to stop, she simply silenced them.
After what seemed an eternity, they drew apart. She rested her forehead on his and smiled. It was nothing like the tentative kisses they'd shared after dinner at the starbase. It was his promise, and she had accepted.
They stood apart, holding hands. His deep baritone rumbled. "Breakfast."
She squeezed his hands before letting them fall to his side. Touching his jaw one last time, she turned to the door. "I wouldn't miss it. And if you know what's good for you, neither will you, Jean Luc." The doors whirred into place behind her, leaving Jean-Luc flatfooted and beaming.
On her way back to her quarters, Crusher favored anyone still out that late with a brilliant smile.
*********
End
*********
Easy time will determine if these consolations
Will be there reward
The arc of a love affair
Waiting to be restored
You take two bodies and you twirl them into one
Their hearts and their bones
And they won't come undone
Hearts and bones
"Hearts and Bones" Paul Simon - www.paulsimon.com
***********
Sabotage III Chapter Four
***********
"Once again, Captain, I have to congratulate you and your crew. Well done." The compliment seemed to pain Necheyev as she spoke.
"I'll pass on your sentiments, Admiral." Picard's expression was amused. "What is the progress with the M'dar?"
"Your work on the Enterprise has helped us capture the majority of saboteurs in the rest of the fleet. But we can't be certain. The corruption went much further than we'd suspected. To be perfectly honest, Captain, the M'dar have been more successful that Starfleet will ever admit." Necheyev seemed even more put out. It was not a proud moment for Starfleet or the Federation.
"Publicly, in any case." Picard leaned forward. "Admiral." He paused dramatically. Though he would not admit it, the dramatic pause was one of his favorite indulgences. Necheyev waited patiently. "Now that we have uncovered the alliance with the Cardassians, I believe we may have gained the advantage in the situation."
"How so, Captain?" Necheyev was appropriately intrigued.
**********
"All's well that ends well then, Jean-Luc?" Beverly raised her glass.
Picard met her gesture and her eyes, and they both finished what they'd had left in their glasses after dinner.
"We're not quite to the end of the chapter, but I think we may finally outmaneuver the M'dar."
Crusher waved her hand as she stood to clear the table. "Semantics."
Picard chuckled. Unless it happened to be the finer points of the prime directive or a medical matter, Crusher was not one for details. He rose to help, and in minutes they were seated on opposite ends of the sofa.
Beverly smiled. "Shall we be magnanimous in victory, or revel in each of the brilliant details?" Pulling her legs up under her, she giggled. "I particularly enjoyed revealing to Walker that the M'dar were about to sell him up the river. He had no idea they'd double crossed him."
Picard chuckled. "Necheyev seemed pleased." His smile faded and his eyes darkened. "But I would not be so quick to claim the spoils. These past months have cost me something I cherish."
Crusher began to feel apprehensive, a tight ball forming in the pit of her stomach. She traced the rim on her glass of tea with a delicate finger. "Oh?"
Picard's expression was pleasant, but there was much unspoken in his eyes and the lines around them. "I spent more time than I cared to without the company of a good friend."
Now Crusher smiled easily. Picard had deposited them back on firm and familiar ground. Setting her tea on the table, she leaned over and took his hands. They did not speak - they did not need to. The instant before the contact became too significant, Crusher drew back. Her timing was impeccable, and came with practice. Now it was appropriate for her to stand, stretch, and politely excuse herself. But she realized that she was not yet ready to go.
Picard realized that it would be one of their rare late evenings. Infrequently, one or both of them would not be ready to depart so quickly after dinner. Perhaps she had lost a patient that day, or he a crewman. The reasons were various, but the results always precarious. Departing from their typical patterns opened them up to atypical conversations and awkward pauses. At times it seemed there was nothing left unsaid between them - at others there seemed volumes of untold mysteries.
He broke his reverie long enough to notice that she was perched cross- legged on the couch, delicate hands on her lap, merrily twinkling eyes fixed on him. He rose and walked to his desk, her gaze following him curiously. He pulled open a drawer and withdrew a small object that he palmed, and then walked back over to sit again. He opened his hand and held it to her, revealing a bright copper penny, one of the first minted in a Terran nation that had been known as the United States. She laughed as she took it from his hand, and began turning it over in hers.
"It's a replica, unfortunately. It seems the expression survived longer than the artifact."
"Well, it's priceless." She unfolded herself and wrapped him in a hug. "Thank you, Jean-Luc." She sat back and resumed her careful perch. He had opened the door - it was up to her to walk through it. "I suppose it did all come out right in the end. But the road was a rough one. I've been spending a lot of time being very angry at Jack Walker, because I think I'm not ready to accept what will happen when I no longer have that anger."
He regarded her, but did not speak. He sensed that she had more to say. Raw and unsolicited confession was not native to either of them, and fostering it required maintaining an infinitely delicate balance of emotion between the participants.
Crusher turned and gazed out the view port. "I was so mad at you, Jean-Luc. Now I'm not mad at you, but I am furious with myself. And all that anger takes up so much room." She struggled to articulate the swirl of emotions that had encircled her. Then she recklessly thrust herself onto very thin ice, gliding past all the warning posts and ignoring the cracks beneath her. "When Jack died, I felt that same anger. At Jack, Starfleet, you, me, everything and everyone. And it sustained me for so long. When I first came onboard the Enterprise, I was still clinging to shreds of it. Then, I went away to Starfleet Medical, and suddenly I had nothing - nothing at all. The anger was gone - it had been worn away by the friendships and my work on the Enterprise. I realized that I missed the ship, and everyone on it. I missed Wesley. I missed you." She now met his gaze and smiled crookedly. "And despite all that missing, I felt whole again, and I had not experienced that in a long time." Her eyes were desperate.
She was exhausted by the weight of all she had unburdened. Picard recognized the offering for what it was, and wisely did not try to comment. Nothing he had to say would contribute to the significance of another's experience. It was the reason words of comfort so often felt hollow. Instead, he took her hands and met her eyes. "Thank you, Beverly."
For an instant she took back one hand to wipe at an errant tear, but was quick to replace it in his firm grasp. "I suppose you're welcome. But for what I am not sure."
"I suppose you haven't figured it out yet, but you have forgiven me, at least in your heart." He took both her hands in one of his and covered them with the other. "You have forgiven me for more than I ever would have asked. And that is a priceless gift indeed."
This kind of conversation was what arose when they stepped out of the agreed upon boundaries of their relationship. They sat motionless and silent, neither sure about how to continue. Beverly's eyes were clear and crystalline, warmed by the auburn locks that tumbled around her face. Picard's hazel eyes were small, but powerful and beautiful. Their color invariably betrayed his mood to her, and they were now the purest and deepest green.
"Then we're even, Jean-Luc." Her delicate lips parted in a smile. Her words unlocked the spell, and they breathed again. "Well."
An unspoken conversation passed between them, and they rose, acknowledging that the evening had come to a close.
"Breakfast?" She turned to leave before he responded. The question was perfunctory. She knew the answer. As she glided toward the door, he caught her arm. She turned again, her face a mask of surprise her heart did not feel. She knew what he would say now, in the same way she knew the answer to her previous question.
"Beverly." She simply raised an eyebrow. She'd said her peace for the evening. It was his turn.
Suddenly the floor rushed out from under her, and the room flew away. Her heart almost hurt it was beating so hard, and her stomach danced. He was kissing her gently but insistently, and it was wonderful. They flew past the point of chaste, rounded passionate, and careened right into lustful. All the while their contact stayed delicate, his hands on her face and hers on his waist. Crusher heard the familiar klaxons blaring in her head, but instead of willing herself to stop, she simply silenced them.
After what seemed an eternity, they drew apart. She rested her forehead on his and smiled. It was nothing like the tentative kisses they'd shared after dinner at the starbase. It was his promise, and she had accepted.
They stood apart, holding hands. His deep baritone rumbled. "Breakfast."
She squeezed his hands before letting them fall to his side. Touching his jaw one last time, she turned to the door. "I wouldn't miss it. And if you know what's good for you, neither will you, Jean Luc." The doors whirred into place behind her, leaving Jean-Luc flatfooted and beaming.
On her way back to her quarters, Crusher favored anyone still out that late with a brilliant smile.
*********
End
*********
Easy time will determine if these consolations
Will be there reward
The arc of a love affair
Waiting to be restored
You take two bodies and you twirl them into one
Their hearts and their bones
And they won't come undone
Hearts and bones
"Hearts and Bones" Paul Simon - www.paulsimon.com