AN: This is another one shot based around an episode for my little project. Please don't take it too seriously, it's just for fun.

I own nothing from Star Trek.

I hope you enjoy! If you do, please do let me know!

111

Jean-Luc couldn't quite explain the fever that burned in his body and in his mind. He felt hot and thirsty. He felt dizzy and disoriented. He felt practically frantic, and annoyed, and euphoric—all at the same time. He knew, of course, that he had fallen victim to whatever this was. Toxin, virus, or whatever else, it had gotten him as surely as it had so many others. He wasn't sure just yet, though, what this would mean for him or any other member of his crew.

Beverly was working on all of it—the cause, the effects, and the solution. If anyone in Starfleet could solve this, Jean-Luc was confident that it would be Doctor Beverly Crusher.

"Captain? Can I see you in your Ready Room?"

Jean-Luc jumped at her appearance there. He bit his tongue when the thought came to mind that he was happy to see her. He was always happy to see her—and he might just tell her that, along with the fact that he'd been thinking about her.

Oh—he'd been thinking about her in so many ways…

"It's a private matter," Beverly added. Something in her tone tugged at parts of Jean-Luc's anatomy that, normally, he did his best to ignore and deny. "No, actually it's an urgent one," Beverly said. Her expression, much like her tone, seemed to practically speak to something primal within Jean-Luc.

Surely, he thought, as he glanced around the bridge, he ought to be thinking about other things beyond Beverly Crusher and the way she made his body burn and ache for her—the way he thirsted for a taste of her mouth—but he couldn't quite remember what else it was that he ought to be thinking about at the moment.

At the moment, nothing seemed quite as important as Beverly did.

Still, something inside him did remember that, though he might think these things, he couldn't say them, so he bit his tongue and followed her silently—a response that some deeper part of himself told him was acceptable.

As he followed her into his ready room, he couldn't help but stare at certain parts of her anatomy. He tried to hold back some instinctual urge he had to practically skip, imaging even a moment alone with her.

"Now…Doctor," Jean-Luc said, as soon as they were alone in his ready room.

Beverly walked over to his desk. She put her hands on it. She leaned against the surface. He could practically feel her agitation across the room. It seemed almost as if the heat from her body was mingling with the heat from his—even at this distance.

That feeling like thirst came over him again—the desperate kind of thirst where everything felt miserable and sticky. She was what he needed. He felt sure of it. One taste of her, and he would find himself a man in charge of his faculties once more.

But that was only some kind of fever dream. Jean-Luc didn't even know what he had. If anyone knew—anyone at all—it was the woman in front of him…the beautiful, sexy, amazing woman in front of him. He tried not to stare at her, but he failed miserably, as she stood with her back to him and seemed to be struggling with something.

"I believe I'm infected myself, Captain," she said, turning around quickly, having made up her mind to rip off the proverbial band-aid and admit why she was there.

"Do you know what the infection is?" Jean-Luc asked.

Beverly seemed to be hesitating. She seemed to be fighting with something. Jean-Luc was fighting with something too—with many things. He was aware that time was of the essence. They all had to be saved from this before it was too late. Something, somewhere, would make it too late—though he honestly couldn't recall what. "Come on, quickly," he said, urging Beverly to continue.

She tugged at the neck of her uniform like she felt as hot as he did. Simply imagining that she could feel that way made Jean-Luc practically sense his own temperature rising more. He wanted to touch her. He wanted to feel the heat from her body under his palms. He wanted to draw it out of her, somehow.

He felt sure, somehow, that he could cure this for the both of them. They could cure it for each other.

And if they couldn't, at least he could die a happy man in Beverly's embrace.

He practically shook the thought out of his head. It was inappropriate. It was wrong. He could sense that it was wrong, but the way she was looking at him…the way she let her own palms drift over the peaks and valleys of her body like she was trying desperately to wipe away her own frustration…all of it drove him crazy.

What he would give to run his hands over her body in that way.

"Sorry," Beverly breathed out. "Sorry. It's—it's definitely like alcohol intoxication. The same lack of good judgement, for example…for example…right now…I find you…"

Beverly stepped toward him. She closed the distance between them. This felt nothing like alcohol intoxication. Even drunk on Saurian brandy or Romulan ale, Jean-Luc had never felt so absolutely outside of his own control. With Beverly so close to him, it was all he could do not to lean forward and bite her—yes…bite her. Not hard. He wouldn't want to hurt, her but just hard enough.

He wanted to feel her in every way. He wanted to taste her.

His uniform felt scratchy and ill-fitting. He felt desperate to get it off of his skin. He could feel every thread of it like it was sparking with electricity. The only thing that he wanted next to him was Beverly.

She was so close to him, now, that he could feel her. He could feel her heat. He could smell her. He could smell the sweat from her own fever. He could feel her breath. Their uniforms were all that kept them apart.

And the way that she was looking at him—he couldn't help it. He couldn't stop his body from responding. She was close enough to him that she couldn't be ignorant of his physical desire, and she must know how much he wanted her.

"I find you…extremely, extremely…of course, we haven't time for that sort of thing," Beverly managed to get out. Her voice came out in a sad sort of cry at the end. The longing sound in her voice tugged at Jean-Luc. He felt it. He felt it all.

He had felt it for so long. He wanted this woman…he wanted her more than he wanted air. He wanted her more than he wanted anything. He would give anything to have her—to hold her—for just a moment. Her mouth was there, so close to his that he could feel her breath on his lips. He glanced at her lips. He locked eyes with her.

He wanted to believe that she wanted him every bit as much as he wanted her. He wanted to take this fever from her—or, in finding that he couldn't, he at least wanted to be as close to her, just once, as any man could ever be to a woman.

"What sort of thing?" He asked.

He dared to reach his hands out. He dared to touch her waist, her hips…to pull her just a little closer to him as though they weren't already as close as two people could get. He wanted to be inside her. That was the only place to go—it was the only way that he could be closer to her. He longed to be closer to her. She looked at his lips. He saw it. There was no mistaking it. Her gaze lingered there before sliding up to his eyes. She bit her lip, and Jean-Luc nearly lost everything he might have thought of offering her—nearly embarrassed himself like a virgin.

He still might embarrass himself—his desire for her was that overwhelming, but it was a chance he would take. He would rather be mortified and touch her for a second than never touch her…and he could please her. No matter what, he could please her…he would. He would do whatever she required of him, and he would do it gladly.

"Oh God, would I love to show you…" Beverly breathed out. Her hands were on him now. She was holding him. He felt the tension in her fingertips. He felt her hunger and her desperation. She leaned and kissed him. It was hard and hungry, and he practically felt like there was lightning sparking between them.

He could only groan in appreciation and the absolute anguish to think that the kiss might be all there was—all that he was ever allowed.

"You owe me something. You do realize that, don't you? I'm a woman," Beverly said.

"There has never been any question of that, Beverly," Jean-Luc said, his body throbbing for her. She started to unzip the front of her uniform. Jean-Luc's mind flashed to the thought that he should be somewhere. He should be doing something. Perhaps, even, she should be doing something, too…but there was time. No—there was no time. Maybe that was the nagging thought in the back of his mind. There was no time.

"I haven't had the comfort a husband…a man…" Beverly was saying.

The comfort…that comfort.

"I long to give you every possible comfort, Beverly," Jean-Luc assured her.

There wasn't time, some voice in the back of Jean-Luc's mind said, but there was time for this. There had to be. Jean-Luc felt he couldn't survive, if there wasn't.

"There isn't time," he breathed out. "Something tells me there isn't time."

"We don't need that much time, Jean-Luc," Beverly said.

"There's time for this," Jean-Luc said. "There has to be."

He leaned and kissed her, this time. She returned the kiss, and he moved her backward. She stepped perfectly with him, as though they'd been choreographing these movement for years. They only stopped when she bumped the desk, and Jean-Luc lifted her and placed her on his desk. She kissed him, nipping his lip, and he bit hers back in return.

Her fingers worked frantically to remove his uniform, leaving no question as to her desire or willingness for this to happen, and he let his own hands practically tear her free from her own garments.

There should have been so much tenderness—so much time spent admiring each other's bodies—Jean-Luc knew that, somewhere inside of him, but there wasn't time for that. Neither of them felt at leisure for that. Neither of them seemed to desire it.

They came together, instead, like two people on the verge of dying without what the other had to offer them, and both of them cried out in grateful satisfaction the moment their bodies came together for the first time.

111

"You wanted to see me, Doctor?" Jean-Luc asked, walking into Beverly's office.

She stood up from where she'd been seated behind her desk. There was something in her eyes—something that practically crackled in the air around them.

Jean-Luc could almost swear that their connection was something much greater than it ever had been before, following the events of the previous month.

They hadn't dismissed what had happened to them entirely. In fact, they had added a few dinners to their schedule of already sharing breakfasts together. They'd even been on a few holo-dates. Still, they were taking it slowly, now, and figuring out what this was—whatever it was—after having taken it really quite fast.

They weren't denying that their feelings, although quite enhanced, had been there before they'd been overtaken.

"Are you alright? You seem rather…anxious," Jean-Luc said.

"Sickbay's been busy today," Beverly said. "And—I think it might be just the tip of the iceberg."

"Some virus or outbreak?" Jean-Luc asked.

"You could say something like that," Beverly said.

"Well—I'm sure you can handle it, Doctor," Jean-Luc said. "Beverly," he amended, noticing that she did, in fact, look quite anxious. They were in private, and addressing her affectionately did always seem to calm her some. "Give it your upmost attention. Feel free to change duty rosters as you see fit. If anyone can get this under control, Beverly, it's you."

"It's not that simple," Beverly said.

"What is it? Tell me…" Jean-Luc said.

"The effects of this continue for…months. About eight of them, to be exact."

"I don't understand," Jean-Luc said.

Beverly drew in a breath and let it out with a sigh. She was clearly collecting her words and arranging them carefully. Jean-Luc allowed her the time that she needed. Whatever this was, it was clearly no crisis that required her to hurry.

"Jean-Luc…it would seem that the problem last month, as well as lowering inhibitions, must have…interfered with some of the medications and such that people had in their bodies. Namely, it seems to have interfered with birth control."

Jean-Luc's stomach twisted slightly.

"You mean to say…"

"There's a rash of pregnancies, among many of the females…and pertinent males…that were affected and acted on their feelings," Beverly said.

Jean-Luc's pulse kicked up, but he did his best to try to remain calm.

"I see," Jean-Luc said. "Well—we'll notify Starfleet, and we'll start…doing what's necessary to arrange duty schedules and accommodate their needs. We will do what needs to be done, and you'll offer them the best treatment possible."

"Jean-Luc," Beverly said. He hummed at her and locked eyes with her. She gave him a soft smile, though he could practically feel her anxiety. "I'm one of them."

He smiled back at her, hoping to calm her. His stomach flipped, but he didn't find it all as unpleasant as he might have imagined. His greatest concern, now, was Beverly and her peace.

"Yes," he said. "I quite imagined you might be."

"You don't have anything in particular to say about that?" Beverly asked.

Jean-Luc walked over to her. He pulled her to him and he kissed her. There was no rush to this kiss. There was no desperation. There was only tenderness. They had time.

"We'll do everything we can to accommodate your needs, too," Jean-Luc said. "I will do everything I can to accommodate them, personally."

"And then?" Beverly asked.

Jean-Luc laughed, still holding her and enjoying the feeling of her body against his. It had become one of his favorite sensations.

"Forgive me," he said. "I am quite new to this. But…I assume that, then, we shall bring our child home…a boy, do you think?"

She smiled at him.

"It might be a girl," she said.

"All the better," Jean-Luc said. "Perhaps, if we are quite lucky…there might have been more unexpected consequences. We may even have twins—a boy and a girl."

His heart danced, thanks to the happiness on Beverly's face at the thought—and the mischief in her eyes as she geared up to tease him or to challenge him a little.

"We never talked about this. We weren't even prepared for one. What would we do with two, Jean-Luc?" She asked.

"The only thing we could do, Beverly. Love them twice as much," Jean-Luc offered.