"Unnnnaahhhhhh," I'm barely coherent as I stand limply under the broad, steady stream of steaming water. For the moment, I am content to just stand here – making no effort to reach for soap of any kind as I simply allow the rivulets of water to slosh enticingly over every single curve.

The water is hot, scalding my skin and leaving it red and blotchy. Why is it that even in the midst of the uncomfortable burning sensation, I'd rather be blanched than turn the old dial down one bit and bear a cooler temperature?

I allow the heat to roam all over my shoulder, like a thousand tiny little touches, and soothe away the tension that I've held there over the past week. I still can't believe it, I think, that we've made it out of all of this and that we're all safe. I shudder when I think of all the myriads of outcomes that could have been had…

My thoughts sink back to Caldos and Nana. I felt so angry when I left there. I was so bitter that I barely said two words at her burial. In a nanosecond I'm immediately transported to the Daystrom Institute, those dark, doleful corridors enveloping me in darkness. The cold faces of Savet, Vera, and Jack. Savet. He was Vulcan, but his mannerisms and emotions denied everything about his heritage. Yes, I know, there are Vulcans who refuse to undertake the Kolinahr, the ritual ceremony where emotions are purged. But, it's rare and many are exiled for doing so. But, Savet – he was special. Many Vulcans who reject the Kolinahr are erratic, almost childlike in their emotional expressions. Savet, though, was controlled and sadistic. He was, indeed, an interesting case study. And Jack, well… I feel like I've agonized enough over him. But, it's hard not to. I should talk to Jean Luc about it; his appearance fomented a lot of questions in both of us that we've not broached. I think Jean Luc is hesitant to foment those questions, though. He feels guilty, I think, about the past. So do I - well even more so.

And what about Wesley? He hasn't spoken about anything; we haven't really had time to talk over what happened as a family. I'm sure he has questions; I know he's hurt and probably angry in some way. But what do I say to him? How do I-

"Beverly?"

I turn around with a smile, "Jean Luc?" He's standing in front of me, gloriously naked. "We've been here before, I think…" I tease as I reach for his arm to draw him close.

I pull him flush against me and he immediately moves to wrap two hands around my waist. "What's this new habit of yours: leaving me alone in bed?"

I just smile teasingly back at him as I wait for him to continue.

"You see," He begins with a mock earnestness. "I think you know that every morning, I have this," He raises one hand to gesticulate with a feigned air of pedagogy before he matches my gaze. "Particular problem…"

I look down at his impressive erection against my thigh, "Oh?" I look back up. "And what kind of a problem would that be?"

"You know," He backs slowly backs me up against the tile wall. "I really don't know…"

"Oh you don't," I laugh. "Do you?"

"No," He shakes his head innocently. "I was hoping that you, as a Doctor, could diagnose it for me."

"Well," I look up, pursing my lips and stifling a giggle. "I don't know, Jean Luc. I don't have my tricorder…"

"I was thinking," His hands move slowly up my waist to lie on the underside of my breast. "For a more hands on approach…."

"Well," it's hard enough to think with him standing in front of me naked, but the slow, gentle kisses that he's feathering on my neck are making me mute. "Jean Luc," I push him back, "You'll have to let me take a look."

He grins as I slide down, giving me a direct view. "Is this," I point at him, not quite touching him yet. "The problem?"

He put his chin in his palm as if deep in thought, "Yes, I do believe it is. Do you know a treatment?"

I move steadily back up to meet him as I wrap one hand delicately around his erection. "I think so, Jean Luc. But," I sigh with a professional disposition. "You'll need multiple, aggressive treatments."

He resumes his kisses, this time over my brow and down my cheeks. "Will you be administering them?"

"Every single one," I start to move my hand, back and forth with a distinct tempo.

"Well," his lips descend on mine, our tongues mingle, and saliva is deliciously exchanged. "Is there," another kiss. "A cure, Doctor?"

"No," I manage before his mouth again claims my own.

"Oh, good," his hands now become more forceful as I stifle a laugh which is subsequently swallowed by his lips. This time when his hands move lower to cup me, I don't stop him. But, in doing so, our kiss is broken when my head bumps the wall of the cavernous shower in pure ecstasy.

"Jean Luc!" His fingers insinuate themselves over me as their trail light circles, eliciting a million tiny shudders, and drag me towards release. I feel inside of me now, touching that one particular spot, and my vision fades to white. I'm panting as he holds me against him. "I love you," he whispers. I reach for him, still erect, my walls still contracting, as he positions himself. I greedily drag him the rest of the way until he's fully embedded. It doesn't take long before another orgasm floods over me, and then another as he himself comes.

I'm still gulping for air, held against the warm tile wall, water spilling over us. I look at him through hazy eyes, "Better?"

He just laughs as he continues his kisses, "For now."

What began as an act solely to wash myself takes on an infinitely more sensual demeanor when Jean Luc and I do so together. I have to admit, other than Caldos, this is the first time we've been able to indulge in this activity in a while. And Caldos, even, that wasn't languorous – it was pyretic and frenzied in its intensity. It wasn't meant to be exploratory and sensual. It was meant to fill and need and confirm.

I love it when Jean Luc washes my hair. The colors have always tantalized him: all the different hues of reds and gold that mingle and dance together in the light. It's long and heavy, but he takes his time, seemingly washing every strand. And when he moves to my scalp, I die a thousand little deaths. His hands purposefully relax me with expert strokes that soothe away tension.

I groan as his hands move over my aching shoulders, down my back, and all the way to the ground over my legs. He leaves no inch of me untouched by the delicate bubbles.

Soon, I move in to do the same to him. It's a kind of admiration that I take part in. I scrutinize every muscle, every bone, and I marvel and cherish every scar. I mentally go back and think about the ways that he got each of them. Most of them I know, because most of them I treated. Whenever I would go into erase them with the dermal regenerator, he always refused me. "Why Jean Luc?" I asked him once. "You don't want scars all over your body!" He shook is head and smiled at me. "Leave them, Beverly, as reminders." He looked down, "What good is a body without the evidence of the life that it has lived?" So, he's kept them – almost like trophies. I still see faint reminders of his assimilation not three years ago; there's that faded circular one at his neck, and two just above his scapular spine. And there's the one he got while climbing on the holodeck – with the safeties off. And here's my favorite: the one lying over his sternum from when he was impaled on the Naussican blade. I think I love it so much because it makes Jean Luc so uniquely who he is. We never would have met, I think, without this scar. This scar, however inadvertently, brought us together.

I look away from his chest when I feel his eyes on me. He's giving me that look again. It's the same look he's always given me.; it's the same look that I first noticed about him when we first met. It's a gaze of pure, unadulterated love and adoration even in the midst of my foibles and downfalls. "I love you, Jean Luc." I whisper as I move in to kiss him. "I love everything about you - especially your scars."

Thank you everyone for commenting. I have to admit that after yesterday I had no clue where to take this. And then I woke up this morning and everyone had said such lovely thing and given me some good direction! Can't tell you how much that means! Keep it coming! Again, much appreciated

Tiffany: Good to have you here! So glad that you've been enjoying the story. Makes me smile. And thanks for saying such nice things!

Cholee: Thanks a million for reading and reviewing!

Martin: Here you go! Last night I had no ideas left in me!

Mels: Wrote this with your comment in mind! Hope this fits the bill.

Monica: Thank you, love :)