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1000 Ships

Six

"There is fire, and there is lust. Some would trade it all for someone they could trust. There's a bag of silver, for a box of nails, it's so simple the betrayal."

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"You saw him again today, didn't you?" Andrew's question was not an accusation, but it held a touch of disappointment. She was often angered by her work in San Francisco, but she was only melancholy and introspective after she'd seen or talked to Picard.

"Yes." She sat silently, regally, on the couch, legs and arms crossed. She held a chilled glass of white wine as she gazed out over the Sound.

"And?" He wasn't jealous, just curious. He'd learned long ago the effect Picard had on Beverly, and had come to take it in stride. Andrew Stewart was younger than Crusher, but he was old enough not to let past loves hold sway over the present. Not that her feelings for the dashing Captain were a complete thing of the past – but she had married Andrew, not Picard, and he was secure in his position.

"And nothing. We ran into each other in the commissary. These days we really have nothing to say to each other." She had not turned from the enormous bay window, and only continued her unblinking stare at the water and mountains.

Andrew knew they'd had a blowout a few months previous. Beverly had returned that night with tears staining her cheeks. She'd walked silently into the living room and gazed out into the star-lit sky for an hour. Then she'd come to bed and had initiated an intensely amorous evening. Andrew had the strange but persistent feeling she had not really been with him in the most abandoned throes of her passion, but rather Picard. But he had not dwelled on it. Again, he was not a jealous man.

Suddenly she spoke, startling him. "Andew, what are we doing?"

"About what?" He gave her a puzzled look.

She turned to him, her eyes deep blue. "Us. Where are we going?"

"Beverly what are you talking about?" She could be so confusing.

"I mean, what's the point? I go off and do my research, you go off and do yours. We meet up occasionally to have drinks and dinner. What kind of marriage is that? I love you, you love me, but is it enough?" Crusher had been growing increasingly frustrated at the predictable nature of her life. She'd come to Seattle, to Earth, to find stability. Well, she'd found it, and she wasn't happy.

"Beverly, if you tell me what you want – "

She cut him off, her voice rising in pitch. "That's just it. I don't know what I want. But I don't think this is it." She stood and began to pace. A thought was forming in her mind. "I'm going to ask to be transferred back onto a ship."

Andew sat quietly and raked a hand through his thick brown hair. He loved Beverly, but during their years together he'd always had the feeling he had a tiger by the tail. There was a restlessness about her that was constantly simmering below the surface. To be honest, he was shocked, but not surprised at this new turn.

She came to sit beside him and took his face in her hands. She studied his warm brown eyes and ran a palm over his rugged jaw line. Andy was handsome, young, and fiercely intelligent. But he was not an explorer. He was content in his lab. She was not. She needed to be challenged by the unexpected. If nothing else, it prevented her from dwelling on the shortcomings of her own life. She knew she was running away, knew that she was looking in space for what Picard had been looking for in a bottle. Neither held the answer, but it was the best she could do.

"Beverly, I truly love you. You are an amazing woman." He pulled her forward and kissed her passionately. It was a comfort, and she would miss him. But something deep inside her compelled her forward – prevented her from staying in any one place for too long. She'd denied the call for the past year, but could not anymore.

A few tears spilled down her cheeks, and they smiled awkwardly at each other.

"It's him, isn't it?"

She winced at the pain in his eyes as he spoke. She would not lie, she owed him more than that. "It's not just him. But I think that's a part of it."

He exhaled loudly. "Damn I wish I could be angry." Now he stood and began to pace. "I wish I could, but I can't. I knew how you felt about him when we married. I thought it was just a ghost from your past that would disappear. But I was kidding myself, wasn't I?" He almost laughed as he spoke. What a fool he'd been.

She stood and came over to him, taking his hands. "Andrew, I meant what I said when we married. I believed every word I spoke." She had wanted to believe them, anyway.

"And now?" His eyes weren't warm anymore. He could blame himself for walking into this, but she was just as guilty.

"Now all I know is that I have to move on. I'm sorry." More hot tears ran down her face. What a mess everything had become. She was severing ties with the last person she was close to. But the feeling of loneliness was an old comfort that settled quickly over her.

He simply nodded. "This house is yours, Beverly. You love it. We tried to make it ours, and it didn't work. I'm happy for the time we had, and I love you. But I think we were both lying to ourselves a little bit." His countenance was grim and he did not meet her eyes. "I'll have my things gone by the time you ship out."

He turned without another word and headed to the spare bedroom.

Tears now flowing freely, Beverly grabbed a thick fisherman's sweater from the coat closet and flew out the door. She did not return until late in the evening. What a wreck she had made of her life.

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