Part III
Beverly trudged resolutely upward another heart-rate elevating hill. After Jean-Luc's amazing performance of being smug while smeared with bat shit, Beverly had decided not to speak to him. In fact, she hadn't even bothered to look behind her to see if her friend had decided to follow. She didn't bother to stop when she crested the top of the hill. As with the same as the previous hills, she wasn't even rewarded with a view—only more towering, overly green trees, accompanied by also overly green vines and undergrowth. On seeing what waited for them on the never-ending trail, she lost her ability to walk, and came to an immediate halt.
Jean-Luc plowed into her from behind.
Apparently, he had followed.
His momentum toppled her forward and into a rather mushy pool of mud.
She'd always wondered what a mud bath felt like. Now that her face was submerged in mud, she had no idea why other people, including her friend Deanna Troi, found it nice. Though she desperately wanted to stay right where she was, hiding her mud-covered front side and face from Jean-Luc, she was also biologically required to breathe if she desired to live. For one instant, the desire to live vanished. Then the next instant, when tepid mud began to seep through the front of her shirt then began to insinuate itself into her bra, the desire returned.
Beverly got to her knees, and then rolled around and sat on her rear in the somewhat dry grass. A shadow—one distinctly in the shape of a human male—fell over her almost immediately. With a silent curse, she slowly looked upward.
Jean-Luc, ever the starship captain, had remained dignified and upright... and still covered in guano. Looking properly apologetic, extended a hand to her. She waved him off. No way she was going to accept help from him. Remaining on her rear, she shrugged off her pack and started rummaging around for her towel. Her rummaging slowed as she remembered where her towel had gone off to.
Just as her towel came into view, handed to her by Jean-Luc Picard, the man to whom she'd lent the towel to in the first place. Only this towel was entirely clean and utterly devoid of guano. With an audible sigh, Beverly snatched the towel from Picard's outstretched hand and began an attempt to clean off the mud.
"Sorry about that," said the captain.
Beverly sniffed in reply.
"Really, I am."
This time she didn't sniff, but she didn't look up at him, either. She considered doing so, as her friend sounded very sincere, and not a hint of laughter at her predicament carried in his voice.
So she looked up.
Her best friend looked into her eyes, and she could see in his gray ones concern, a bit of tiredness, the warmth of love. Was it love? Oh, yes, there it was again, it was love, an emotion she returned if not in action or words. And then something else lay behind that love, something playing along the edges, vanishing and reappearing as she searched. Ah, there it was again... was it something deeper? An emotion for her felt more deeply than love? Another glimpse of it twinkled in her friend's eyes and she recognized it. Named it.
Amusement.
Bastard.
She took her thoughts of love right back, flipped the switch on the twinkle in her own irises, and instead, narrowed her eyes ever so slightly.
Whereupon Jean-Luc Picard burst into laughter at Beverly Crusher's expense.
She spent what she gathered to be about one second deciding whether to ditch her friend or kill him. Lucky for him, she decided on ditching, if only because killing would require more energy, what with hiding the body. Without a word—and as Jean-Luc continued to laugh—she stuffed the towel in her pack. Then with her grimy hands she hefted the pack onto her shoulders and headed up the trail.
Only then did she remember—all that waited for her was the stony remnant of an ancient rockslide, which meant a scramble up and over a quasi-cliff face. Not quite a rock wall requiring climbing skills, but enough of sharp elevation gain to trigger her heart-rate elevating fear of heights.
The hell with it. She had to lose that fear sometime. Now was just as good a time as any. Perhaps even better, because she had indignant anger on her side. After adjusting her pack another time and tightening the straps about her shoulders, chest, and torso, she started her scramble. Moving upward across the haphazard rocks was a bit of a mental challenge. She had to scout out a good route with enough hand and footholds, utilizing whatever she could. Roots, rocks, outcroppings, tree trunks. As she plotted her route (and not the murder of her best friend), her ire faded enough that she even allowed herself a moment to glance back to see if Jean-Luc followed.
Perhaps only ten feet below her, the captain stood holding a small tree trunk for support while his legs had found firm footing on a large granite boulder. At least, Beverly assumed that was what her friend had done, as when she glanced behind her, she'd noticed that he wasn't looking directly at her. Oh, he was looking up at her, but his eyes were lower than her head. Or her shoulders. Or her mid-back. Or torso.
She'd caught Jean-Luc Picard staring at her backside.
And not out of necessity.
And he hadn't noticed that she'd noticed.
She cleared her throat.
He looked up. Eye contact made, Beverly arched an eyebrow.
His previously flushed face paled and the hand holding the tree trunk relaxed. His grip forgotten, his hand slipped off the trunk, causing him to stumble backwards. As he grasped wildly at the rocks and roots, a stream of swears in languages Beverly identified as English, French, and Klingon before she lost track, flowed from Picard's mouth. For a brief moment, Beverly worried that her friend might not regain his balance. Then he'd tumble down part of the slide, most likely doing his body damage that would require professional medical attention, and she'd have to heal him because of the Hippocratic Oath and all that, and she'd never get the chance to rub it in that she'd caught him checking out at her ass. Much to her relief, he managed to catch a root with his other hand and kept himself from harm.
He looked up again.
She smirked, and then turned around and resumed her scramble up the slide. After ten more minutes of hiking, they reached the top. Beverly pulled herself onto the relatively flat surface of the ledge and began to study her surroundings. Two openings were on either end of the inside wall of the ledge. Faces had been carved around each opening to the cave, which had been called Actun Halal, the Dart Cave, a long time ago. Though, Beverly wasn't sure it could really be called a cave due to its shallowness. After taking a peek down to check on Jean-Luc (who was still slowly scrambling his way to the top after his near-fall), she decided to investigate the cave itself. Inside, she much welcomed the cool, almost dry air. The cave only extended about ten feet from the openings, making it more of a rock shelter than an actual cave. A book rested on a worn stone platform—she immediately knew it was the Dresden Codex. She removed it and left the cave. Then she made herself comfortable, resting her back against the rock wall, crossing her legs, and perusing the Codex to figure out their next direction.
When Jean-Luc finally clambered up onto the ledge, she was still nonchalantly paging through the ancient book.
"It's about time you got here," she said, not bothering to look up. "I've already gone and found the next Codex, as you can see. And I've already determined where we're supposed to go next. You know, you kind of suck at being a sidekick."
A heavy pack dropped next to her with a solid thud. "Maybe I wouldn't be so bad at it if I had a cape."
"Or if you weren't checking out the hero's ass the entire time." She shut the book with a distinct slap before turning to look at her friend.
He wasn't returning her look. Instead, he was studying the faces etched into the wall outside one of the openings. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he said before reaching out and tracing the outlines with the tips of his fingers. "Oh, look at these carvings. They're exquisite examples of Mayan artwork."
At first, she thought he was intentionally trying to change the subject. Then she recognized the expression on his face, the one of pure wonder he got when he saw a new star system for the first, or found a new archeological artifact. But he only allowed the expression to touch his features when he was alone or with those close to him. And for the past decade, only Beverly, Guinan, and Professor Galen had been deigned trustworthy enough to be witnesses. It was another thing Beverly loved seeing about him. Not the stalwart captain, but the curious soul inside. She decided she could save the ribbing he deserved for later. Besides, she was a woman, and damned good at saving torture for another time. And the expression of 'oh god, she didn't forget' on Jean-Luc's face when she brought up a long-ago transgression was truly priceless. Yes, she'd save it for later.
"We should explore inside. Perhaps there are more artifacts," Picard continued.
Beverly rose to her feet. "You realize that a scant few hours ago, you were stomping your foot like a two-year-old and refusing to go adventuring. Archeological adventuring, which you seem quite excited about right now."
Jean-Luc scowled. Like a two-year-old.
She gave him a warm smile and handed over the Codex. "Besides, there isn't anything in there other than dirt, rocks, and probably some bugs. I took the only interesting thing from there. It's the Dresden Codex."
He stopped just before he took the book from her hands. "Are you actually going to let me touch it?"
"The book? Yes. Whatever else you were staring at? Not anytime soon."
The corners of the captain's mouth twitched in want to frown as a reply attempted to escape his lips. But he kept his words to himself and quietly accepted the book.
As Picard searched through it, Beverly explained where they were supposed to go. "The next place is Actun Nak Beh, which means 'the cave at the end of the road.' We follow another trail until we come across—"
"What trail?"
She sighed and pointed to a barely-visible trail below. "That one. May I continue?"
He went back to the book.
She continued, unable to keep the irritation from her voice. "As I was saying, we follow that trail until we come across a small ceremonial center—"
"What ceremonial center?"
Beverly clenched her teeth. "The one we'll come across on the trail."
"That's all you know?"
She turned to him. "It's all I've been able to tell you since you keep interrupting me. And it's more than you know. So if you would kindly shut up, I'll finish what I was saying."
"By all means." He didn't look mollified. Not in the least.
And for the fourth time that day, she wanted to strangle her best friend. Before she could act on that impulse, she looked back at the jungle vista below. The first view of the day. She wished she had the time, and the absence of the urge to kill, to appreciate it. "After the ceremonial center, there should be a long causeway across a lake. At the end of the causeway is where the next cave is." She slung her pack on her shoulders again. "We should get going. I want to reach that cave and the next before nightfall."
He gave her a deeply solemn nod. "By your command."
She glared at him.
He raised his eyebrows and held his hands up in innocence. "As you wish?"
Beverly heaved a weary sigh and started over the edge to begin their downward journey. "Follow me." And she was sure Jean-Luc would do so gladly.
He did.
As she'd calculated, their next destination really was only two kilometers away. Which, in the jungle heat, felt more like sixteen, but maps were maps and numbers were numbers. Except when they were imaginary. They strode across the thankfully flat causeway as a cool breeze from the lake evaporated their sweat. Outside the oppressing humidity of the jungle, Beverly was able to take in, and appreciate, the beauty of their surroundings. Even her urge to kill had faded entirely. The lake stretched from the ceremonial center to a distant forested shore. The water hugged a large hill in the middle of it, the island the causeway connected to the main center on the shore. Ripples drawn up by the breeze lapped up against the chunks of rock that formed the base of the causeway. Aside from the breaking water, the occasional echo of bird calls, and their feet crunching on the old gravel, they were surrounded by an ethereal quiet. "This place is beautiful," she said, in an almost reverent whisper.
Jean-Luc drew up next to her. "It is. This would be a rather fantastic vacation spot if not for the whims of Lady Q."
"Were it not for Lady Q, we wouldn't be seeing this place at all."
The captain sighed. "There is that." Then, "Do you mean for us to antagonize each other during this entire 'adventure' as you call it?"
Feeling scolded, Beverly reacted as such. "You started it."
A pause stretched between them before they both started to laugh at the ridiculousness, their laughter echoing along the water and off the ancient stone buildings. Then they strode together in companionable silence toward the next cave. Beverly began to feel at ease for the first time in this little adventure to save the universe. Her friend was by her side, and on her side, and it felt good.
A truce.
But the imp in her couldn't resist. "I saw you, you know."
Jean-Luc continued to keep his eyes on their goal. "Saw me what?"
"Oh, come on. You were totally checking out my rear."
His lips turned down on one side, a sign of him mulling over a proper answer. "I wasn't checking it out. I was appreciating it. There's a difference. Besides, it was right there in front of me, for kilometers and kilometers. At that point, I'd already checked out your lovely hair and your lovely legs and couldn't help—" He stopped suddenly, obviously realizing just how much he'd admitted.
He wasn't going to escape again. "And just how is my rear, Mr. Appreciative?"
"Captain Appreciative." As he corrected her, he glanced back at the rear end in question. "Also lovely." Then he turned his eyes toward the rapidly approaching hill.
Beverly allowed herself a satisfied smile. Perhaps her plan of 'them' could be worked into this whole 'saving the universe' thing.
They both walked onward, Jean-Luc intent on one goal, Beverly intent on two.
When they reached the end of the causeway and made their way around the bottom of the hill to the other side, Beverly stood and glowered. Somehow, Lady Q had neglected to include a bit of pertinent information about the location of this particular cave. The main entrance—the only entrance—of the cave was located at the top of an eighty foot cliff.
Fantastic.
Her heart rate became elevated.
"You know, the wasteland of the Russian tundra isn't looking so bad right now," she muttered.
"If you wish to lodge a complaint, please lodge them with yourself, the person responsible for our locale," came the reply from her friend.
Truce over. War declared. It was on.