Author's Note: The first six lines of dialogue herein were written by Richard Manning and Hans Beimler. Thanks to Kallie49 for enlightening discussions about this and other episodes.


Captain Jean-Luc Picard stood in the dank cave on Minos, bargaining for his life and that of his crew. Desperately hoping his CMO's childishly simple plan would work. "We've seen enough," he told the holographic salesman of the arsenal, urgency filling his voice.

"Does that mean you're going to buy it?"

"Yes, yes, we've seen enough. You've made a sale!"

"You won't be sorry."

"Good. Now end the demonstration!" Picard demanded.

The holograph smiled an oily, satisfied smile. "Done."

Yes, Picard thought in triumph as the projection dissolved back into its component light particles and was absorbed back into the control panel. Without further ado, the bank of lights switched off and the machine went dead.

Suppressing a sigh of relief, he quickly reestablished contact both with the rest of the away team and with the ship before returning to his wounded CMO's side with Data in tow.

He dropped to his knees beside her still form, once more gently calling her back from the brink of unconsciousness. "Beverly, hey."

She blinked up at him, her normally clear blue eyes clouded with shock and pain.

"You did it," he told her. "Now stay with me. Help will be here soon."

She graced him with a tiny nod in response.

She'd done it – she'd found a straightforward and yet most effective solution, and in doing so had quite possibly saved them all. Jean-Luc permitted himself a small smile as he studied her with unaccustomed affection touching his heart. That's the Beverly I know and love.

Yes, it was true. In this moment of deliverance he had no alternative but to admit it to himself. Even after so many years had passed, he still loved Beverly Howard Crusher.

When she'd first joined the crew at Farpoint Station, he'd convinced himself that the romantic feelings for her that he'd long since tried to bury and forget were gone. That time and distance had finally dispelled the sensations of longing, of passion, that had teased and tormented him for years.

Their encounter with the Tsiolkovsky infection barely a week later proved just how futile that belief was. Under the influence of the virus Beverly had all but thrown herself at him in his ready room, and in response long dormant needs and desires had inflamed him. It had taken every bit of self-control he'd possessed not to take her in his arms and kiss her right then and there… Even thinking about it now still makes me shiver.

Although he'd deflected it with a jest, her earlier suggestion that if he found an exit he should go and leave her behind was preposterous, inconceivable. Impossible.

He had left her, once. On that terrible day when he'd brought Jack's body home to her. He'd had to go, to retain his own sanity. To try and control the toxic mixture of grief and guilt he felt before it touched the lives of Jack's widow and young son.

And so he'd abandoned her and her child and returned to the Stargazer, leaving the splintered remnants of Jack's family to fend for themselves. No wonder he now sensed an aloofness, a brittleness about Beverly in their personal interactions that he'd never encountered before.

Oh, he'd kept an eye on her from afar, imposing on his friendship with Admiral Quinn and others in Starfleet Command to make certain she and Wesley were looked after, but he'd never made direct contact with her again. A clean break, he'd decided, was the best way forward for both of them. For years he had almost even believed it.

And now here she was – here they were – back in his life once more. After so long apart Beverly had found him again – had requested a position under his command and brought her son with her to his ship, even though he had been responsible for her husband's death. It astonished him even now to think of the confidence, the trust, she placed in him.

Even after losing her husband under his command, she still trusted him. Trusted him not only with her own life but that of her only child. Jack's child. And he was determined do everything in his power to be worthy of that trust.

Yes, he had left Beverly behind once before. He could no more do it again than he could convert his arms to wings or regrow the hair on his head.

He gazed down at her, pale and bloodstained but still achingly beautiful, quietly accepting the realization that his love, his passion, for her was indeed slowly but surely reawakening. She must never learn of it, of course, nor Wesley or the others. It would be unthinkable for him to betray Jack's memory that way.

And so, as much as he longed to take her hand in his and lend her his assurance and strength while they waited for help to arrive, he refrained. Forbearance must be the order of the day from now on, he decided, just as it had been when Jack was alive.

Still, for a moment there she had begun to open up to him in a personal way that both surprised and gratified him. There was so much he wanted to learn about her background, her history, and he hoped he would be given the chance to know more. Perhaps, if he was careful, they could still cultivate a friendship between them.

What a gift that would be.

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