tw: mild blood & partial nudity (non-sexualised)
Jean-Luc awoke with a start. "Shit," Beverly was murmuring. His head snapped to the other side of the bed.
Beverly! He mentally exclaimed, gaining her attention.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," she gave him an apologetic look. There were some dark brown patches on her sweater. The blood was seeping again.
"Hell," he breathed. "The dermal regenerators?"
"On the desk," Beverly said, already getting up and making her way out. Don't worry, I can handle –
"BEVERLY!" Jean-Luc hollers both aloud and mentally, racing out battling nausea to find her slunk against the wall. Beverly? he repeats, bending down.
I forgot about the range, she thought, gaining her composure. "Sorry." She looked up into his eyes and smiled a little. He helped her up and made their way to the desk together, picking up the case. The reddish brown patches in her blue sweater were getting bigger. Do you mind if I use your bathroom?
Go ahead, I'll get you a clean sweater, he paused at the replicator while she went inside the bathroom to clean herself up. He had to stay right by the bathroom wall so that they wouldn't go out of range. Are you sure you're okay, I could call sickbay if you need me to.
No, I can manage this… her thought drifted off. He could sense she was concentrating on something, but he wasn't about to work out precisely what. Would you mind giving me a hand?
He frowned. Are you okay?
Beverly sighed. I can't reach the ones on my back. I might look younger, but my flexibility has yet to catch up, she added jokingly.
Are you sure? Perhaps I should call sickbay…
What would you want if our roles were reversed, hm?! She challenged him brusquely.
Ah yes, that acerbic remark she had learnt to hold back, Jean-Luc remembered.
I'm sorry.
If our roles were reversed, no, I wouldn't want you to call sickbay, but you're also qualified to work with the dermal regenerators! I am not! After a moment she caught a quieter, gentler thought. I don't want to hurt you.
I trust you.
With not a great deal of confidence, Jean-Luc stood and headed through the door to the bathroom. Beverly had her arms crossed, covering her chest, fresh patches already on her arm, chest and the one on her jawline. "It's simple, I'll talk you through it," she told him, turning to show her back. His gut dropped through the floor. Welts exposed, shiny, ready to ooze more blood. "Jean-Luc?" Beverly glanced at him over her shoulder.
He swallowed down, his mouth dry. I can't do this I can't do this I can't do this.
I believe you can. "I have an idea," she said. "What if you project what you see to me, that way I can tell you exactly what you need to do?" He nodded mutely. With concern for him, Beverly was having second thoughts…
"It'll be alright, just tell me what to do," Jean-Luc said in a husky voice before clearing his throat. With Beverly telling him what to do, the other dermal regenerators went on smoothly. "There," he said as he placed the last one.
"Thank you, Jean-Luc," Beverly told him, watching his reflection in the bathroom mirror.
He opened his mouth to speak before blushing. I'll wait outside, he thought to her, fleeing the room. Outside, he put his head against the wall. Calm down, old boy, he told himself. Good god, I hope Beverly gets better, those look painful.
"'Old boy'?" Beverly echoed as she stepped out of the bathroom, finding him standing against the wall.
"Something Jack would always say," he croaked, keeping his eyes averted.
"Hypospray time," Beverly told him, taking his arm and leading him back to the sofa. He followed obediently. What's the problem? She mentally inquired as she gave them both their treatment for the remaining ionic radiation and her painkillers. You won't even look at me. Was it the injuries? Or the fact that I was half naked?
"I cannot bear seeing you in pain," Jean-Luc murmured.
There was a quiet hiss. "I'll be alright in a few days," Beverly cooed to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "My hand and my skin will be healed, the investigation will be over, and we can go take our well deserved shore leave!"
"Tell me more about that bar you were thinking about?" Jean-Luc inquired.
"People write poems and stick them to the wall," Beverly sighed in happy memory. "When the wall gets full, they have an event where people take them off and read them before either burning them or archiving them."
They got up together to retrieve breakfast from the replicator. Jean-Luc's hand hovered over the coffee when he sensed Beverly's mind chip in, I'm not sure a psychoactive stimulant is a good idea while we're adapting to being psychically attached, Jean-Luc.
"What would you suggest?" he queried. She let out a small sigh, and judging from the emotions he could sense from her, she was reminiscing of a while back.
"I'll have this," she said, programming her drink into the replicator. "You're welcome to have one as well, or decaf. Your choice." The beverage that appeared looked like a latte… but… blue?
"Beverly, what is that?" he asked in confusion.
"A Betazoid drink," Beverly explained. "I'm not quite sure how it's pronounced, to be honest."
"Did Deanna suggest it?" he inquired. If their half Betazoid friend had been the source of the recommendation, he would be more up to giving it a go. After all, everything she had ever recommended had been chocolate flavoured. He could get past the blue colour if it was chocolate flavoured.
"No, she hates it actually," Beverly admitted, taking a sip. It's a bit of a niche taste. Jack hated it as well, she mentally thought. Her eyes darted up as Jean-Luc awkwardly looked away. "Sorry."
"It's alright."
"I didn't mean to project that." Gosh, why can't we just talk about him? We talked about Walker after he died. Why can't we do the same for Jack?
Because it isn't the same for Jack. "What does it taste like?" he inquired.
"It isn't so much about the taste as the feeling," Beverly admitted. She let out another sigh before holding up her glass. "Just, try a sip." He accepted easily.
Beverly wouldn't poison me, he thought as he raised it to his lips. When it hit his tongue, nothing. He frowned a little in confusion, passing her back the glass. Suddenly he gagged, coughing, spluttering, reaching for his throat. Thrashing buttons, he called up a glass of water. What the hell was that?!
"I told you it was… niche," Beverly said, hiding a laugh before having a sip herself. She could feel his revulsion as the water didn't help. "It isn't a physical taste, it's a mental one."
"How do I get rid of it?" he grimaced. She could sense his discomfort. It was like Jack had described it to her, like slimy slugs in your mind.
"Well, the only way I know is how Jack got rid of it," Beverly remarked, biting her lip.
"Please," he croaked.
I have to put him out of his misery, Beverly thought. "Hold still," she said, taking the plate of croissants and empty glass of water out of his hands and putting them on the table.
Beverly? he started. Please, I just want this to stop! He squirmed.
"Okay," she said aloud, wrapping her left hand around his head. She was standing right in front of him. I hope this works. Rising onto tip toe ever so slighting, she pulled his head down and kissed him squarely on the mouth. It was just a second and then she let him go and stepped back before he could process or respond.
Dazed, he blinked. Beverly? he asked when his mind started to function again.
"Did it work?" she asked aloud. He could feel her barriers were up again. Silently he nodded. He couldn't hear her thoughts, but her relief was palpable. "Good." She sounded a little breathless. "I'll get you that decaf then…" She turned away to operate the replicator. Jean-Luc was speechless, sitting down at the dining table with his head in his hands. A cup of decaf coffee was delicately placed before him. His eyes followed the hand up the arm, to the body then the face of Beverly Crusher as she sat down, nonplussed, adjacent to him.
"How…" he started, but found his mouth dry. He licked his lips and swallowed down, cleared his throat and tried again. Beverly glanced up brightly as though nothing had just happened. "How did you find out about this… drink… if Deanna didn't recommend it?" he asked.
"Oh, well," she started, looking down again to butter her croissant. "I wasn't able to have coffee while I was pregnant with Wesley. Jack tried to give it up with me, but..." She shrugged, biting off a mouthful and chewing. The drink wasn't to his taste. He just agreed not to have coffee or alcohol around me instead. Which wasn't all that often anyway because he was serving on the Stargazer… she drifted off into wistful pensiveness.
Oh, Jean-Luc thought. I'd have thought he'd have drunk it a lot more given the way of curing the sensation.
Beverly chuckled, then coughed as a piece of croissant went down the wrong way. She had to drink a decent swig of the drink before clearing her throat so she could speak. "He threatened to, too!" she laughed.
Jean-Luc smirked, ducking his head as he sipped his own coffee. He had found it a little embarrassing, if he was truly honest with himself. It had felt wrong… but oh so right!
A while later they were both curled up on the sofa together, Jean-Luc sat, reading a novel, as Beverly lightly dozed, tucked into the crook of his arm. The doorbell beeped. "Yes?" he called softly, eager not to wake his companion. The door opened with a hiss, revealing Deanna. She cautiously entered, noting the sleeping Beverly.
"Do you have a minute?" she asked, keeping her voice low.
"Of course." He set the pad he'd been reading aside on the sofa and gestured for her to take a seat.
"How are you coping, if I may ask?"
He glanced down at Beverly. "I'll be alright," he said. Deanna frowned, sensing the confusing pool of his emotions, like oil reflecting different colours of light.
"And with the psychic connection?" Deanna inquired. He looked back up to her for elaboration of exactly what she needed to hear. It was clear this was a counselling visit. "The sudden intimacy and lack of privacy would unnerve most people. Also, this is very different to the experience both of you shared on Kesprytt, where you had a shared threat to focus your attention upon."
Beverly isn't 'most people'. "It has been… awkward… at times," he admitted.
"It is understandable that it could lead to something you regret, such as your experience on Kespr–"
"I do not regret anything from that experience," he interjected under his breath. Deanna stared at him with wide eyes, blinking in surprise. He inhaled deeply, slowly exhaling to gather his thoughts before he finished, "What I regret was my presumptive actions afterwards, a mistake I do not wish to replicate." Deanna still fixed him with the look that said, go on. He sighed. "Everything Beverly and I shared on Kesprytt through our psychic connection I do not regret. We have been friends for a long time, and honest enough with each other that beyond the awkwardness, it wasn't a traumatic experience by any means." At least for me. He cast his memory back to Beverly walking out after their dinner. For her, I'm not so sure…
Rarely had Deanna Troi been so lost for words. They are closer than anyone realised… than I realised! Beverly always did indicate their relationship somehow extended to another level of friendship. All those times the two of them attending functions together, Admiralty Ball, concerts in Ten Forward, him attending her theatre performances… But they still aren't together. Why not?
And what can we do to help?
"Was that all, Counselor?" he inquired.
"Yes, I… I'll come around later when Beverly is awake," she said, excusing herself, leaving Jean-Luc pensive with the sleeping Beverly against him.
A/N: Thank you sash queen of the jungle, StinaISL and spacekitten2700 for the reviews! I hope you all have a wonderful day! Please review, let me know your thoughts or theories!