Title: Parterre Chapter Twelve – Conclusion
Author: Psycha (psycha underscore fairy at yahoo dot co dot uk)
Series: TNG
Chapter rating: M
Codes: C, T
Chapter summary: In the aftermath, Beverly makes a decision that leaves her standing on the threshold of Deanna's quarters, the question remaining: will she take the step, or turn back?
Author's note: this is the final chapter of Parterre and I want to thank everyone for reading and reviewing. Special thanks of course, to my Beta who's been instrumental in getting me to finish this. No worries though, the sequel is already in progress, expect the first chapter sometime around Christmas and in the meantime, please don't hesitate to leave reviews. I print them and hang them above my bed.
Well, I don't, but that's how much I love them ;)
Thank you all for your patience and time and see you in December!

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Chapter Twelve: Conclusion
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Why had she come here? Peering through the circle of glass she watched the solitary figure in Ten Forward. She tried to shake the images of her dreams. Desire wrapped in a tight blue dress, skilled fingers and hungry lips teasing, tasting, possessing… Beverly released a tremulous breath and quickly backtracked to the turbolift, ready to return to her quarters.

Halfway there however, she changed her mind. Again. If she didn't talk to Deanna now, she never would. In spite of their precarious situation, she'd really enjoyed working so closely with Troi the last few weeks. Then when the other woman had lain on the biobed, saving their butts, she hadn't been able to stop thinking about touching her.

Finally she was ready to admit what she'd felt for months, or longer – an undeniable attraction to the lovely half-Betazoid. Mentally kicking herself she stepped into the empty lounge before she could change her mind again. Immediately Deanna turned around. She was sitting at the center table, framed in the viewports and streaks of stars beyond them.

With her heart beating nervously in her chest, she forced herself to pull up a chair. "You should be sleeping," she chastised half-heartedly.

"So should you."

Rather than reply, she took a whiff of the bottle on the table and recoiled. "This is real!"

Troi chuckled and took another sip from her glass. "Want some?"

She considered it. The scent, though surprising, hadn't exactly been that bad and after the dreams she'd had, she could use a drink. "Sure." While Deanna stood up to get a glass from one of the heavy-duty replicators, she tried to compose herself with slow, deliberate breaths. It worked and she was able to accept the glass with a genuine smile. "What are you doing here?"

The empath shrugged noncommittally. "I'm enjoying the silence." The Betazoid was dressed in her burgundy semi-uniform and had probably been here for a while. She certainly didn't look like she'd gotten any sleep. Beverly felt strangely overdressed in her sky blue blouse and black fitted trousers.

"It's eerie, isn't it?" The ship was never this quiet. Though state-of-the-art technology, it required round the clock maintenance to keep all the different systems running smoothly. Ten Forward especially was never empty; there was always some part of the crew just off duty and socializing.

Now, only Data, Troi and herself were awake. In main engineering, Geordi was sleeping on a stretcher, just in case. It wouldn't be long before the first crewmembers were forced to rise and tend to the Enterprise's needs. She grinned; the ship really was a mistress, constantly needing attention.

Her thoughts halted as soon as she noticed Deanna looking at her with an amused twist of her lips. Caught. "The ship isn't silent to you though, is it?" Her diversion appeared to work. Deanna turned her eyes back to the stars outside.

"No, but it's different now that everyone is asleep and dreaming."

"What does it feel like? The dreams, I mean," she clarified hastily. The beverage, whatever it was, tasted a little like red wine – full and distinct in flavor, slightly fruity with a definite alcoholic burn. Typically Deanna. It was, however, quite nice, she concluded after a few careful swallows. Troi's glass was already empty.

"Diffused," the answer came just when she no longer expected it. "Hazy. Have you ever tried a Bolian meditation pipe?" She had to answer that with a negative. A Bolian meditation pipe? She'd never heard of such a thing. "Starfleet doesn't really approve of them," Deanna offered with an obvious grin in her voice. "They're filled with vegetation found in only two or three places on their home planet. It has a mild hallucinogenic effect, makes you feel as if you're dreaming."

"So, you can sense dreams, but only get a general feel of the emotions of the dreamer?" After refilling her companion's glass, she poured herself another glass as well. The drink really was rather nice and by the taste of it, she didn't think the alcohol content was very high. Besides, she could use something to steady her nerves. She had the sinking suspicion she might soon need the whole bottle, suddenly realizing that the direction of their conversation could lead to a very painful and embarrassing subject.

"Oh no," Troi corrected, "I sense the emotions pretty clearly, especially from people I know well. But there's a delay, as if they have to pass through a thick wall."

Beverly blushed. There certainly was no delay getting to Starbase 'Boy did I set myself up for that'. "So, uhm," she stammered, looking for a graceful change of subject and finding none, "you, well, I mean, you can tell who… what dreams are about?" Under the table, she crossed her fingers.

To no avail. Deanna turned and looked straight at her. Black eyes clear and unwavering. Frank, but without any emotion. "Yes, sometimes."

"Did you, ehm, sense, mine?"

The other woman's expression changed minutely and there was an everlasting pause before she replied, a smirk tugging on red lips. "I could tell what kind of dream you were having." Her cheeks were burning, the blush rising to the tips of her ears. Deanna had felt her dream and even if she only felt a fraction of its intensity… she glanced at the table and gulped down the remainder of the alcohol. What a shame the bottle was already half empty. When she finally found the courage to meet those piercing eyes again, the empath dropped the other proverbial shoe. "I could sense who you were dreaming about too."

Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap! The self-satisfied smirk Troi threw her way didn't really help her nerves either. Beverly fumed silently. Within seconds Deanna's expression turned sympathetic, no doubt in reaction to the doctor's troubled state of mind. "Everyone has those kinds of dreams Bev, there's no need to be embarrassed. They don't have to mean anything."

"Well they do," she growled hostilely before catching herself. Double crap. Finally fed up with her own fumbling – she was a grown woman after all – she refused to look away from Deanna's fixed stare, even though her stomach felt as if it was already halfway across the ship.

Deanna's stare softened and she leant back in her chair, hands folded together on the table between them. "What do they mean then?"

Suddenly she just felt so tired. Tired from the tension, tired from the back-and-forth match between her heart and mind. Slumping in her chair she downed another glass and answered, grabbing the bull by its horns as the old Terran expression went. "You can tell how I've been feeling." The only reaction was an almost imperceptible nod, but nothing more. The empath wasn't going to make it any easier for her, it appeared. "We kissed."

"I remember." There was that playful grin again, amusement faint, but noticeable in her companion's gentle voice.

Why wasn't Deanna taking this seriously? "I'm struggling Dea." Her confession was unlikely to be a surprise, but she felt better for admitting it aloud. "You're my friend and we're colleagues and these feelings aren't going away and I wish I could sense how you feel… I don't even know if you feel the same way."

A hand, warm and soft, touched her wrist. She stared, her own skin barely a shade darker than Deanna's. The other woman's fingers were long and slender, perfectly manicured. She blushed, remembering the images from her dreams.

Fighting with herself, it took her a few moments to gather the courage to look up.

When she did, all traces of amusement had left Troi's face. "I do."

Neither of them spoke for long minutes. The weight of the moment was heavy on her shoulders and although there was plenty she wanted to say, she couldn't bring herself to break the safe silence.

Thankfully Deanna did, or they would've been sitting there until the Alpha-shift came off duty. "I'm in love with you Beverly."

She gaped.

They'd said as much just minutes ago, but to hear it spelled out loud and clear felt wholly different. "You seem so calm." It was all she could say, too much of a mess inside to make much sense of the half finished thoughts and intense emotions in her head, swirling around like a flock of birds.

# # #
For three hours they talked through plentiful yawns and an almost equal amount of awkward silences. Still, she hadn't figured things out. Now she was standing out in the corridor. Though 'standing' was a little ambitious.

Deanna was just close enough to the doors of her quarters to trigger them to open. It was time to say goodnight: a highly unappealing prospect. The empath watched her with that same devastating twist to her lips that she'd been sporting most of the night. Perfectly aware, she knew now, of the struggle inside her. She yawned.

Deanna chuckled, stood on tiptoe and planted a lingering kiss on her cheek. Gentle and unassuming, even after the intimate and honest conversation they'd had. "Goodnight Beverly."

"I'm in love with you too," she blurted when the doors started to close.

They did close and she was left alone. Unsure of what to do with herself, she just stood there. Had Deanna even heard her?

But within seconds the doors parted to reveal a beaming raven-haired beauty. All night there'd been a soft glow of affection on Deanna's face. Now the empath was positively radiant: eyes bright and a brilliant smile on her lips. "Do you want to come in?"

Beverly swallowed. "I'd like that."

The lights came up, but just enough to be able to see, for which she was grateful. The combination of alcohol, a lack of sleep and bright lights usually wasn't a good one.

"Can I get you anything?"

"No, thanks."

Apparently not thirsty either, Deanna stopped halfway to the replicator and turned to face her. Beverly swallowed again. "Do you want to sit down and talk?"

Now she noticed a playful quality in Troi's soft voice, a seduction that was barely there. "No."

"All right…" Deanna's voice trailed off and she cocked her head. "What do you want?"

I want to kiss you, touch you, love you. Her whole body was tingling as if she was drunk. She wasn't. Not on alcohol anyway. The black eyes watching her squinted ever so slightly and followed her as she slowly moved closer.

She was close enough now to make out the tiny wrinkles of exhaustion around the empath's eyes. "Beverly?"

"Deanna." She studied her friend's face and tried to look past the exhaustion. Lips parted, just a little and released a tremulous breath. Before she could rationalize what she was doing, her hand was against Deanna's cheek and their lips met in a slow, hesitant kiss.

Her hesitancy quickly disappeared. The way Deanna felt – tasted – she wanted more, much more. Hands pulled on her hips and she followed without breaking contact. All her remaining worries were pushed into the furthest corner of her mind as simple yearning conquered everything else.

Her fingers tangled into an abundance of dark curls and moist lips parted under her own. The sheer passion behind their hurried kisses weakened her knees and surged through her veins. Their bodies pressed close together, but not close enough.

This soft gentleness couldn't ever be enough. The passion she'd felt building within herself for months demanded to be released. Beverly brought up her other hand and tangled her fingers in long dark tresses. She licked and sucked on wet lips, drawing in cold air when Deanna gasped.

Arms locked around her neck, pulling her closer and a tongue met her own, teasing, fanning the flames burning inside her. They kissed again and again. Wet, openmouthed kisses with promises of so much more. Her hands roamed over the figure that had seduced her months ago.

"I want this," she confessed aloud when forced to break away for air. "I want you." There was a beat, a low drum of silent understanding, before she was pulled back against those moist lips.

It was her turn to gasp when Deanna slid the tip of her tongue along the curve of her ear. Hot, whispered breath caressed the sensitive flesh there, goose bumps travelling all over her. "Come to bed, Beverly."

Soft, slightly swollen lips parted under her own and she slipped her tongue inside, letting it tease against her lover's. The feminine body against her was warm and inviting, the slight pressure of breasts against hers spurred her on, but she wanted more. She wanted to feel naked skin, hot and slick with want like her own. Through a mass of dark curls she found the clasp of Deanna's uniform and released it, feverishly pulling away the fabric, never breaking their kiss.

Too slowly for her liking, skin was revealed. It burned where she touched. Each curve and imperfection was heaven for her fingers as she explored this new and exciting figure. When Deanna backed away from her, she couldn't tear her eyes away. She was enraptured, unable to catch her breath. She reached for the younger woman, but Deanna took her hands and stopped her. Then reached for the catches of her blouse. "Let me."

Deanna was merciless, playing with the buttons with one hand as the other played over her body through the fabric, enjoying the unimpeded access. Her mouth was everywhere: fluttering over her face and ears before attaching itself firmly to pulse points and tonguing its way down her collarbone. She thought she would die when Deanna began nuzzling and kissing her cleavage, nudging the fabric aside as she finally began to undo the rest of her blouse millimeter by agonizing millimeter. She was on the edge of pleading with Deanna for some relief.

Then she froze.

There was a blast, a shockwave like she'd never felt before. The ship rocked beneath her feet, her vision blurred, the room suddenly too bright. Her thoughts were pushed back, reduced to half-finished whispers while other thoughts – thoughts she couldn't understand – ruled her mind.

And below those, feelings.

Thick, lush emotions that rolled through her mind like lazy waves of plasma. Warm and gentle, but almost painful in their unfamiliarity. Desire infused her whole body; every nerve, every thought was doused by it. It was as if someone suddenly dumped liters of scalding hot water on her: painful, but carrying intense warmth.

It took her a few seconds, or minutes, to realize they weren't her own.

The throbbing in the pit of her stomach evolved into drumming that quickly took over. Her temples beat in time with her heart. She felt the drum's seductive vibrations everywhere, from the back of her neck to the tips of her toes. It was desire, but more than that. Love in a way she'd never felt it before. A need so intense she could taste it, but not without losing herself.

She wouldn't have minded feeling like that forever, were it not that all these feelings weren't hers. That underlying knowledge terrified her through the languid warmth they offered. She staggered, balled her fists, even through the thick fog left by the invasion. Unable to move, pinned into place by the drum of someone else's heart, her mind screamed to be left alone, even as the beat continued to seduce her.

As suddenly as it had started, she was alone. She blinked and blinked some more, slowly waking up and forming thoughts again. The room darkened, her mind empty. Alone.

Deanna was staring at her. "Beverly?"

The cautious hesitancy in the empath's voice caught her attention. "What happened?" There was a beat, the kind that signaled a turning point, and Crusher corrected her question. "What did you do?"

"I'm sorry."

"What did you do?" She took a step back, Troi didn't follow, choosing instead to cast her eyes down.

"I don't know."

All the little voices that had been quieted throughout the evening came back, strengthened by their forced break. Again Beverly felt torn; only now it wasn't just because of her own fears. What happened seconds before left her aroused, thoroughly warm inside, but she also felt invaded, forced to experience something she wasn't ready for. Though she knew, from thinly veiled hints from Deanna, how the counselor felt, it was a whole different story to actually experience it.

And as she backed away further, out into the empty corridor, trying to get herself together as she went, what scared her most of all was the knowledge – the absolutely certainty – that if she could stop being so afraid, her feelings would be just as strong as Deanna's.

"I didn't mean for that to happen."

She dared meeting those black eyes full with remorse, anger taking possession of her voice, "but it did."

"I don't know how."

"You must've done something, Counselor." A look of hurt crossed the empath's features, but she couldn't feel guilty. She was right.

Though she'd thrown out the accusation merely as a diversion, she realized Deanna must've done something to facilitate that invasion. Few things happened without human intervention. Even weather was man-controlled on many planets nowadays. That the connection minutes earlier happened without any prompting from Deanna was highly unlikely. "I have to go." She turned and ignored Troi's call, picking up speed as she got away from the empath. To her relief the corridors were still deserted.

In the turbolift she caught her breath and waited impatiently for the doors to close, desperate for the sanctity of her quarters, but she'd barely gotten inside when Jean-Luc appeared on the far end of the corridor and headed towards her – quickening his step.

Close dammit! Her silent begging wouldn't help. Rationally she knew sensors in the walls detected his presence, calculated the delay for the people already in the cabin, took notice of the lack of alarm or urgency elsewhere on the ship and decided to keep the doors open a few seconds longer. As soon as he stepped inside the doors closed behind his back. "Bridge."

"You shouldn't return to duty just yet," she cautioned him, trying to sound like her normal, professional self.

"Someone has to do it," Jean-Luc replied, a surprisingly easy-going grin around his mouth. "We can hardly keep letting Data run the ship all by himself – Starfleet might think we're useless. What about you, doctor? House calls, even though you should rest?"

Her heart skipped a beat. What did he know? Or worse: what did he see? "House calls?"

He cocked his head, "I thought I saw you coming from the direction of the counselor's quarters."

Beverly gulped. Why did Troi's quarters have to be at the tail end of the corridor? And why did Jean-Luc have to know the ship's layout by heart? She took a deep breath, stealing herself. Because he was the captain of course, which was exactly why her next lie would only hold up until he reviewed sickbay's reports of this night. "Oh yes, I just wanted to make sure there are no lingering effects from her contact with the aliens."

He nodded with more understanding than she could take from him right now. "And is she all right?"

"Who?"

His chuckle, so familiar, bounced off the turbolift walls, deftly playing with the strings of guilt and fear around her heart.

"Counselor Troi."

"Oh, yes. Yes. She's fine."

"Splendid." The doors opened to reveal the bridge where Data sat primly at the helm. "Perhaps you should get more rest Beverly." In a rare gesture of affection, he briefly touched her shoulder before leaving the small space.

"I will. Deck eight," she ordered, this time remembering with some thankfulness that in spite of all the wonders in the universe, technical or otherwise, she still needed to tell the computer her destination in order to get there.

# # #
Lying restlessly in bed she tried to forget the way Deanna's skin felt against her own. The anger she'd felt in the moments after that link - for lack of a better word - had ebbed away, replaced by paralyzing fear. She knew now how Troi could be so calm, playful even. Deanna's feelings for her were so intense that an almost laconic acceptance of them was the only thing that allowed the Betazoid to deal with the ongoing tension between them.

She couldn't really blame her friend for that, and she believed Deanna hadn't intentionally triggered the connection. Still, what she'd experienced had thrown her completely off balance. Below the desire, the love, there'd been an acceptance. Not of the emotions, but of the situation; a quiet knowledge that those feelings wouldn't be discouraged by a few bumps in the road. That knowledge suffocated her. Deanna Troi loved her. Truly, wholly, and completely, and she doubted her own ability to return those feelings with the same intensity.

Beyond that she felt exposed, stripped entirely of pretenses and white lies. If she'd been able to learn that much about Deanna's state of mind, she couldn't imagine what Troi didn't know about hers. The last of her perceived privacy had been taken from her. She cursed under her breath and tossed under the sheets.

At least now she could finally store her feelings for the Betazoid in a dark corner of her mind, she decided. If something was going to happen between them, it would've happened tonight and obviously it hadn't. Exhaling slowly she turned onto her side and pulled a pillow into her arms. She flatly refused to consider the possibility that something monumental had happened.

An hour later she was still wide-awake, mulling over the last weeks in her head. She wondered guiltily how Deanna was doing. Was the counselor just as wound up as she? Instinctively she knew she wasn't the only one lying awake in an empty bed.

Deanna was probably just as shocked as she was. Probably feeling lonely while Beverly felt betrayed. Sad instead of angry, wanting more instead of wanting to run away. Regret and guilt instead of fear.

She focused her thoughts elsewhere.

On her duty. Yes. Tomorrow she would have to start full crew check-up. But despite her distractions part of her knew how the empath one deck above felt. Every time she gave up on her distractions and tried to pinpoint the sensation however, it disappeared from her conscious mind. The only thing that wouldn't disappear was the knot of guilt in her stomach. Though still angry she knew she'd hurt Deanna. She'd seen it in those soulful black eyes. But there was nothing to be done about it. She'd made her bed and now she was lying in it.

#fin#