Entering the aft compartment, Riker found Beverly Crusher sitting on top of a box of medical supplies.

Looking up, Beverly inquired, "Is everything alright?"

Nodding, Riker replied, "Yes. The Captain wants to take the shuttle out for a test flight, just to be sure."

Maintaining his poker face, Riker continued, "He asked me to tell you he'd like you to remain on board to make sure nothing happens to the medical supplies."

Raising her eyebrows, Beverly looked around her, "Will, these things are secured so tightly I doubt even a direct phaser blast would shift them."

Riker shrugged as he prepared to close the hatch, "Don't blame me, I'm just following the Captain's orders."

Sighing, Beverly prepared to belt herself into the rear compartment seat.

Following proper procedures, Captain Jean-Luc Picard skilfully directed the shuttle through a series of basic manoeuvres as it orbited the planet below. Satisfied that all systems were functioning normally, Picard informed the bridge that he would be taking the shuttle on a short trip out of the star system to test its warp engines. After confirming a course and heading, Picard engaged the warp drive.

"Warp one," he reported as he checked the readouts. "All systems fine."

"Increasing to warp two," Picard uttered crisply.

"Warp two point five," he continued.

"Warp thr…" he stopped in mid-sentence as he noticed an orange light blinking ominously on the display.

"Mon Dieu!" he swore as the shuttle suddenly careened out of control. Fighting to regain control, Picard called out, "Enterprise, this is shuttle seven, I have lost helm control."

Still fighting to bring the shuttle to rights, Picard swore once again as everything suddenly went black. "Merde!" he cursed as he futilely pounded on the control surfaces. Aside from life support and emergency lighting, the shuttle was hanging dead in space.

Knowing the Enterprise would be along to collect him, Picard sat back and prepared to wait. Closing his eyes, he began a series of Vulcan mind-centering techniques.

Picard was startled to hear the door to the aft compartment swish open.

Suddenly a somewhat frightened, and rather angry, red-head threw herself into the co-pilot's seat demanding, "Jean-Luc, what the hell is going on? Are you trying to kill me?"

Shocked, but unable to ignore the way her linen 'dress' rode up her thighs, Picard said the first thing that came to mind, "What the devil are you doing here? I thought I told…"

Beverly cut him off before he could finish, "What do you mean, 'what am I doing here'? I was ordered to stay with the medical supplies."

"But," Jean-Luc replied, still distracted by the pair of legs so tantalizingly close to his own.

Sighing, Beverly said, "Jean-Luc, I can understand wanting to make sure the supplies were secure, but did you really need to toss the shuttle around like that?"

"Beverly," he began. "There's something wrong with the shuttle. It wasn't me."

Smiling, Beverly replied, "Ah, 'tis a poor man who blames his equipment, Jean-Luc."

Misunderstanding, Jean-Luc defended himself, "No, really Beverly. There's a malfunction in the shuttle. I swear."

Looking deeply into her sapphire eyes, he added, "I would never arbitrarily put your life at risk."

Patting his hand, she replied, "I know, Jean-Luc. I know." Looking around the dark cockpit, she asked, "So, what do we do now?"

Leaning back in his chair, he answered, "I sent a message to the Enterprise before we lost power. She should be along shortly to pick us up."

"Damn you!" The companionable silence was interrupted by a sudden shout, "Will Riker and Deanna Troi, I'm going to kill you both!"

Startled by the vehement outburst, Jean-Luc turned to look at his companion, "Beverly, what on earth?"

Fuming, she replied, "Don't you see it?" She ran a hand through her hair, "Those two set us up!"

"This," she gestured at the black panel, "This whole thing is an elaborate scheme to get us to confess our feelings for each other."

Suddenly very still, Jean-Luc quietly asked, "Feelings? You have feelings for me?"

Still irate over the stunt her 'friends' had pulled, Beverly responded without thinking, "You're missing the point, Jean-Luc. What really matters right now is getting back on board the ship and slowly murdering those two busybodies."

Unable to leave the matter alone, Jean-Luc grabbed Beverly's hands and forced her to look at him, "Beverly, do you," he paused, working up the courage to continue. "Do you, have feelings for me?"

Despite the shadowy interior, Beverly could clearly see the emotions flitting across Jean-Luc's face: fear, anxiety, hope, love, dread. She could read each as clearly as the pages of one of his well-read books. He was laying his heart open before her, and the intensity of his emotions shocked her.

Pulling her hands away, and looking out the forward viewport, Beverly began to nervously pick at the sequins braided into the hem of her outfit. She had kept her feelings for Jean-Luc hidden for over twenty years now, and she had resigned herself to keeping them hidden forever. They had been in many other, stranger, rougher, and more dangerous situations than this, and she had never told him how she felt.

Somehow this situation was different. She didn't understand how that could be the case, but something about this contrived setting was screaming for her to be honest and tell Jean-Luc all the things she had been afraid to say.

Blithely casting away twenty years of doubts, fears, and baggage, Beverly turned to the man she loved and said, "Jean-Luc, I do have feelings for you."

Audibly gulping, Jean-Luc took her hands once again and nodded for her to continue.

Sighing, Beverly took one hand and ran it down his cheek as she said, "I have been in love with you for quite some time."

Hardly daring to believe what he had heard, Jean-Luc opened his eyes to see silent tears streaming down Beverly's cheeks.

"Ah, ma cherie," he sobbed. "Please don't cry."

Placing his hands on either side of her head, he slammed it forcefully into the control panel in an uncontrollable fit of rage brought on by the knowledge that all these years of torment could have been avoided (oops, sorry – that should read: he gently wiped the tears away).

"My darling Beverly," he began, "I have loved you from the moment I saw you. Only when I am with you do I feel complete. You are my love, my life, my soul."

Crying, Beverly replied, "Oh, Jean, my baby. I love you more than life itself. I need you like I have never needed anyone else in my life."

Getting down on one knee, Jean-Luc gazed into the eyes of his dream and said, "Beverly, ours is a very complex relationship; one that should take years of talking, hard work, and cathartic tears to develop into something that includes physical intimacy." Seeing her nod in agreement, he continued, "However, I suggest we throw all caution to the wind, ignore everything that has come before, and simply live together – happily ever after."

"Oh, Jean-Luc," Beverly cried in a breathless whisper. "What are you saying?"

"Beverly," he smiled. "Beverly, I am asking you if you would do me the honour of becoming my wife."

Choking back a sob, Beverly replied, "Oh, Jean-Luc! Yes! Yes, I will marry you!"

Beverly sank to her knees in front of Jean-Luc, and brought her hands up behind his head. Searching his puffy, red, tear-stained face, she didn't see the runny nose or sweaty forehead; she saw only love.