AN: Here we are, another chapter for this one!

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

111

Beverly had been fully prepared to scold Jean-Luc if he did something like attempted to keep watch for the entire night while she slept. Although he might think that he was doing something valiant by allowing her to sleep for the night, she knew that they would both be better off having slept half the night, and still being able to work together to further establish their camp, than they would be with Jean-Luc barely functioning or being forced to sleep during the day while Beverly worked alone.

Luckily, Jean-Luc realized that as well, and he woke Beverly for her shift.

"I haven't seen anything," he said.

"You don't always see them," Beverly had teased. Jean-Luc had laughed, fatigue evident in his laughter, as he'd settled among his blankets. She'd hugged him, trying to offer him the same kind of warmth she'd found lying next to him, while he fell asleep.

"I didn't hear anything, either," he offered.

"Sleep, Jean-Luc," Beverly had said softly, sending him off to sleep much more easily than she'd imagined.

Of course, there was something different about the atmosphere here and now. Beverly had thought about that as she'd cuddled near him, feeling that her own body wasn't capable of putting off enough heat, if she didn't get as close as possible—and then, when he was asleep, pulling away rather quickly because she didn't want to get her own hopes up, so to speak.

When Beverly felt sure that Jean-Luc was sleeping soundly and would remain asleep, she eased out of the pallet and fed the fire a bit more of the wood that he'd gathered for them.

The something in the atmosphere that felt different here wasn't something her tricorder would detect. Though she didn't want to turn it on again, to reassure herself, since she was reserving the charge for as long as she could, she knew what she'd seen the day before. The atmosphere of this planet was comparable to the atmosphere of Earth in every possible way. There was nothing here that should alter anything about the way they interacted with their environment unless, of course, she took into account the fact that the air here was noticeably cleaner and less polluted than Earth's air had been in quite some time.

The greatest difference in the atmosphere, Beverly thought, and likely what was making Jean-Luc sleep so soundly now, was the lack of expectation.

Both of them, for most of their lives, had lived under the heavy mantle of responsibility and expectation. Even when it had been their own expectations of themselves that had been weighing them down, they'd still felt the pressure of it pressing down on them.

There was always a question of responsibilities—personal and professional—and a question of duty. There was always the awareness that something was always hanging over their heads. The "what's next" was ever-present in an almost oppressive way.

And though they had both thrived under that and, in many ways, loved it, it was still heavy.

Here, whether they wanted to or not, they had put it down.

The Enterprise was grounded. They had neither the ability nor the resources to get her off the ground again. They hadn't explored the shuttle bays yet, but realistically it would be dangerous and foolish to try to take a shuttle off the planet's surface, even if one of them had survived the crash and was capable of flight. They didn't know where they were. They didn't even know, as Jean-Luc had pointed out, if they were in the Alpha Quadrant. They didn't know the planet, it's surrounding atmosphere, or the surrounding planets.

They didn't know, either, if they would ever be found.

The beacon they'd sent out may never be seen.

And, while Beverly appreciated that Jean-Luc had tried to offer her the optimistic possibility that they might be rescued before the sun rose, she didn't think that he believed it any more than she did.

They were lost. Stranded.

With a decent sleep behind her, though—and, admittedly, one of the best she'd actually had in a while—Beverly didn't find that thought nearly as anxiety-provoking as she might have thought she would.

The crew was safe. Their pods had deployed in time to pull them back and keep them safe from the anomaly. They would be rescued quickly. By now, most of them would be relaxing in Starfleet housing or even in their own homes. Wesley would, more than likely, be on Caldos with Nana.

Beverly ached to think that they would be hopeful for a time, and then they would mourn her, as they must, but she was happy to know that they were safe and had each other. She hated to leave Wesley without either parent. She hated to leave her nana suffering the loss of another family member to Starfleet.

But they were a family that understood duty and the risks associated to a life in Starfleet.

And Beverly, at least, could rest easy in knowing that Wesley was safe and cared for—and he would go on to live a wonderful, successful, and, hopefully, very happy life.

Now, the only responsibility that Beverly and Jean-Luc had was to each other. They needed to survive. They needed to do everything necessary to ensure their survival. With that out of the way, they could focus on more trivial things—like figuring out what they could do to possibly find their way back or, feeling that wasn't possible, doing what they could to thrive here.

The air around them felt different because, for the first time in a long time, for both of them, they were only responsible for their own survival and for the continued survival of each other.

Beverly tried to let no part of herself feel irrationally excited about that in any way.

Since she'd come aboard the Enterprise, Beverly and Jean-Luc had taken part in something like a complicated emotional dance.

Beverly loved Jean-Luc. At first, she'd thought she loved him only as Jack's friend and, by extension, her friend. Then, she'd thought that, perhaps, she loved him only because of the link he offered to Jack. He was a link to her past in a world where Beverly truly had very few links to anything in her past. Slowly, Beverly had come to realize that she simply loved Jean-Luc, as he was and entirely for who he was. That meant, of course, learning to accept everything about Jean-Luc that could, at times, be quite difficult to accept.

She believed, too, that he loved her. Jean-Luc, however, had practically been allergic to the idea of a relationship. The few times they'd danced near it—a kiss that seemed to just happen, a seemingly accidental touch that had raised feelings for both of them—he had said the same thing. He wasn't able to commit to that life. He had a responsibility and a duty. He was a captain. He couldn't enter into a committed relationship—and neither of them would want something less, really, in the long run—knowing that he might someday have to choose not to give her what she needed in favor of doing what was expected of him by duty.

There was no duty here, except the duty to themselves and each other.

Jean-Luc was no longer her captain. Here and now, he was simply her equal. They were two people stranded on a planet—one that was possibly entirely uninhabited—and all they had was each other.

And some piece of Beverly—the part, perhaps, that loved Jean-Luc and longed for him to believe that she could accept duty and responsibility, his life as a captain, and all the consequences that may come from that—couldn't help but get her hopes up slightly.

While Jean-Luc slept, Beverly tended the fire, checked their water supply, and prepared everything she needed to make the rations for them to eat. With any luck, there would be some exploration today that might lead them to new, native food sources—something to sustain them when the rations ran out. They may find a better source of water that was more easily accessible. They could return to the ship and continue their salvaging.

And, perhaps, they could discuss different possibilities for shelter that might be a bit warmer and drier than the cave that they'd found.

Jean-Luc was sleeping soundly, even as the sun started to rise into view and push back the chill of the night even more than it had done while still rising out of sight of the horizon. Beverly eased closer to him to watch him a moment, unobserved.

It wasn't fair, Beverly thought, to love someone who was so determined to hold back from loving you. He punished both of them in some sort of single-minded attempt to save them both from an imagined, possible hurt.

She forgave him, and accepted his flaws—many as they seemed at times—but it didn't mean that she didn't at least have her moments of wanting to tell him how incredibly stupid he was to cause them both suffering over something that might not happen. It was very much like cutting off a limb to save oneself from the potential discomfort of a splinter.

Yet, she couldn't be too angry with him—she loved him too much for that.

She loved him enough to let him go, wasn't that what the old adage said?

Watching him sleep with absolute abandon—the first night in a long time he'd slept even a few hours without worrying about a mission, a duty shift, or a crew—she felt her chest ache a little for him. The sun would wake him soon, even if she didn't.

She also couldn't help but notice another phenomenon as the blanket draped over him in his current position. She smiled to herself. It was perfectly natural, and entirely to be expected, and she wouldn't dare to say a thing about it—but it was amusing, nonetheless.

When she saw him start to stir—the first signs that he was waking from his sleep—she moved and began to prepare their rations. By the time he woke, fully coming into consciousness, their breakfast was almost ready, and she could pretend that she hadn't been watching him at all.

"Jean-Luc…come and eat. You'll want this while it's hot. At least it's tolerable then."

She laughed quietly at their running joke about the quality of the food. Jean-Luc took a long moment to stir and stretch. He excused himself off to the area just outside the cave where, for the time being, they'd designated an area in which to relieve themselves. Then, he returned, washed his hands with some of the water and soap on offer, and sat near Beverly.

"I don't suppose there's a chance for Earl Grey?" He asked, eyeing the steaming cups from their salvage mission.

"Not exactly," Beverly said offering him one of the cups before she handed him his food to eat. "But—we did get one tea bag and one packet of instant coffee. It's hot, at least."

"Would you like the tea?" He asked.

"I don't mind the coffee," she assured him. "You have the tea. How did you sleep?"

"Surprisingly well," Jean-Luc said. His voice said that he was truly surprised. "I would have argued that I would be uncomfortable sleeping on such a hard surface, but I rested very well for such a limited number of hours."

Beverly laughed.

"I know what you mean," she said, washing down some of her breakfast with the bitter coffee substitute. "I slept better than I've slept in a while. Still…I wouldn't mind a nicer bed."

"What did you have in mind?" Jean-Luc asked. "We could—try to move some beds from the ship."

"I was thinking, after we explore a bit, we could discuss some shelter options," Beverly said. "Something not quite as cold and damp. This is fine for now, but you have to admit that we'll find it very unpleasant if the weather gets colder instead of warmer."

"You have something specific in mind?" Jean-Luc asked.

"We could find a nice place," Beverly said. "Build something more comfortable."

Jean-Luc laughed to himself.

"A permanent structure hardly seems necessary…" He said.

"Because you're so confident that we're going to be rescued?" Beverly countered.

"You're so confident we won't be?" He said, not hesitating.

"You said it yourself, Jean-Luc. We don't know where we are. If we're being honest, we don't even know when we are. Who's to say that the anomaly didn't alter time for us? We don't know what kind of portal or wormhole that was. We have no idea what we passed through."

He stared at her a moment. His jaw was set. He was thinking, and she could sense his stress.

Jean-Luc's stress, she believed was of his own doing at the moment. If he admitted they were stuck here—grounded for no predictable amount of time—then that meant he was going to have to let go of a lot. Honestly, he was going to have to let go of the profession around which he'd essentially built his entire life and tried to shape his entire personality.

It wouldn't be easy. It wouldn't be pain-free, and it wouldn't be instant.

Beverly decided to be as gentle as she could. She gave him a soft smile.

"Not something permanent," she said. "Not right away, Jean-Luc. We'll give it some time, perhaps. Explore a bit. See what we can find out about where…and when…we are. We don't have to know how the rest of our lives will go in an instant. We can build something semi-permanent. Something that will offer us shelter, but is easily enough disassembled."

"Protection from the elements, but we needn't leave too much of a mark on this planet if we're rescued soon," Jean-Luc said.

"Exactly," she agreed.

He softened to the idea.

In one of the cargo bays, there were a few of those portable housing unit sets," Jean-Luc said. "Just in case they were needed. Starfleet customarily makes sure that each ship has a few, along with other supplies for establishing temporary camps or helping those displaced by war and other events."

Beverly knew exactly what he was talking about.

"They'll be perfect," Beverly said. "We don't even have to be limited on space. We can use what we want of the kits."

"If they haven't been destroyed in the wreck," Jean-Luc said.

"We'll use whatever we can salvage," Beverly said. "We can always supplement with panels, if necessary. We're ingenious, Jean-Luc. We'll figure it out."

He laughed quietly and nodded before finishing what was left of the probably weak tea.

"You're quite right," he said. "We'll figure it out. I think, as well, we can gather some proper bedding and, eventually, some furniture…should we find it necessary or desirable."

"We can salvage supplies for a decent stove of sorts," Beverly said. "Something a bit better than this for cooking…"

"That would suggest that you believe we'll be preparing more than ration packs," Jean-Luc said.

"We have to," Beverly said, "if we're going to survive. We're going to have to forage. Figure out what we can eat. Hunt…maybe fish."

Beverly noticed Jean-Luc making a face at her. Although she couldn't be sure what he was thinking, some piece of her nearly felt defensive.

"What?" She asked.

"Nothing, Beverly," he said softly. "Only—for a moment? It looked as though this…this situation…suited you quite well."

Beverly felt her face grow warm. She wasn't even entirely sure what the comment meant. She wasn't entirely sure what she felt about the whole situation. Still, for whatever reason, she did the feel the warmth in her face and the question of whether or not he was right.

"I believe in making the best of a situation, Jean-Luc," she said, finally.

He smiled at her, reassuringly.

"So do I, Beverly…so do I." He stood up and offered her his hand so that she could stand with ease. "Come—let me help you clean this up, and we'll begin our surveying of the surrounding area to find a suitable place for our…well…for our temporary dwelling."

Beverly smiled.

"Yes," she agreed, quietly. "For our temporary dwelling."