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111

Underneath the blanket, the temperature in the room wasn't at all unbearable. Jean-Luc had been awake for a while, and he'd already decided that there was room in the bedroom for one of the fireplace inserts that they could take from the numerous kits available on the ship. It wasn't as though anyone else would be using them, and it would provide them with extra warmth in case the temperature dropped any more dramatically in the future.

Of course, Jean-Luc found that he wasn't in too great of a hurry to have the insert. He also wasn't in too great of a hurry to rise from the pallet and start the day.

He was, he found, quite happy lying perfectly still where he was.

Beverly was asleep against him—practically on top of him. Her head, in fact, weighed heavily on him. The warmth of her body warmed the entire length of his. Her legs tangled with his without shame or embarrassment. They'd found this position during the night, and Jean-Luc had discovered it when he'd woken.

He hadn't moved since then, happy to let his extremities fall asleep, if they must, just to preserve the moment for as long as he might.

He had dreamed of holding Beverly much like this before. He might say that he was even a touch ashamed of some of the thoughts that he'd had about her, in positions much like this, with far less clothing between them and the knowledge that the night before had been spent in some kind of ecstasy together. He had imagined that he might wake, someday, holding her—and, if he were honest, he had even let himself imagine that the glorious morning when that happened might be the first of many.

He had also reminded himself, many times, that the dividing line between fantasies and dreams, and the true reality of a situation, was a very important line.

He was a Starfleet Captain. Furthermore, he was simply not a man who felt equipped for relationships. He never had. He felt simply destined to fail at them—and the idea of hurting Beverly terrified him more than nearly anything.

For the moment, though, with the chill of the room touching his exposed skin and creating a sharp contrast between that and the warmth he felt of their shared heat under the blanket, Jean-Luc couldn't help but let his mind wander just a bit.

He wasn't, at this moment, a starship captain. The starship that he'd once commanded lie practically in ruins now. She wouldn't leave this planet's surface unassisted. He had no crew. He had no duty, really, beyond personal duty.

As Beverly had mentioned, they didn't know where they were, but they also didn't even know when they were. It was entirely possible that Starfleet would never see the beacon they'd sent out. Nobody may ever know where they were or how to rescue them. The anomaly, itself, that had dragged them here might have disappeared when they passed through it, folding in on itself in such a way as to make it impossible for anyone else to find it.

Here, Jean-Luc was simply that—Jean-Luc. He was a man, and nothing else.

And Beverly—the woman that he held in his arms, while she slept peacefully—was nothing more than a woman.

They had been stripped of all their titles, roles, responsibilities, and duties. All that remained was life and the relationship that they cultivated between them. And it was up to the two of them to decide exactly how that might look for them, moving forward.

The mere contemplation of the whole thing made Jean-Luc's heart thunder in his chest, hard enough that he feared it might wake Beverly instead of continuing to lull her.

Jean-Luc had pretended that he believed they'd be rescued at any moment—and, it was true that they might be rescued at any moment—but the truth was that he was mostly pretending that for Beverly's sake. He didn't want her to lose hope. He didn't want her to feel upset, or trapped, or to mourn her family and friends too greatly. If they were here long enough, of course, he knew that there would be things and feelings that would arise, and would have to be dealt with when they arose, but he didn't want her to be upset before they were certain that there was a reason to feel that way.

If they weren't going to be rescued soon, however, that meant they had time—perhaps, even, a lifetime—to decide what their relationship looked like. Would they remain friends, and nothing more, because that was what would be safest for them? Would they allow this to turn into something more?

Jean-Luc tried to push the idea out of his mind. He tried to ignore the feelings bubbling up inside of him, because he wasn't sure that he was ready to face what it meant if it was hope that he felt at the thought. He tried to push other thoughts out of his mind, as well, to keep his anatomy from responding to his brain's created images. After all, he didn't want to have to deal with any embarrassing truths, were Beverly to wake and find him in any such state.

It was probably for the best to keep things as nothing more than the deep friendship that they already had—a relationship built on respect, understanding, something of a shared history, and a love that, at the very least, Jean-Luc could pretend was platonic for the best of both of them.

After all, if they were rescued soon—then what?

It would only complicate their lives to have to deal with things. It was better to avoid complications.

That was what Jean-Luc felt like he'd done a great deal in his life—his personal life, at least. He'd avoided complications.

Still, some piece of him couldn't help but wonder—what if he were to throw caution to the wind just this once?

What if they were to act with wild abandon?

What then would his life be? What would their life be?

Did he even dare to dream?

When Beverly stirred slightly, Jean-Luc started almost violently, as though she might be able to read his thoughts and might know the great many things that he'd been contemplating while she'd been sleeping peacefully.

Beverly made a soft sort of humming sound as she woke. Just the sound of it made Jean-Luc's heart fall out of rhythm just a bit.

Before he could stop himself, he moved his hand just enough to brush it over her, despite the fact that it had been painfully numb for so long that he could do little more than imagine that he felt her body beneath his palm.

He froze as soon as he realized what he'd done. He closed his eyes, and wondered if he ought to apologize and, if he did, exactly what he might say.

Beverly raised up and looked at him with sleepy eyes and the dazed expression of someone who is still coming into reality and hasn't yet remembered where they are or what's happening around them. As her mind seemed to process everything, and she looked less distant and confused, she didn't glare at him and demand explanation for the stray touch.

Instead, she smiled at him.

"Jean-Luc," she breathed out, like she had entirely forgotten that he would be there.

He smiled back at her.

"Beverly," he said.

"Good morning," she said.

"Good morning," he echoed. "How did you sleep?"

For a moment, she seemed to consider the question carefully. She looked around, stretched, and curled back into Jean-Luc for a half a moment before looking at him again.

"Incredible," she said. "Absolutely incredible."

Jean-Luc couldn't help but laugh at her incredulity over a good night's sleep.

"Good," he said simply. "I'm glad."

"You didn't," Beverly said, sounding and looking genuinely disappointed.

"On the contrary," Jean-Luc said. "I slept wonderfully."

He purposefully left off the fact that he attributed that to having held her in his arms, and the fact that he'd been awake for some time, simply refusing to move so as to prolong the moment as long as was absolutely possible.

"Now…I suppose we must talk about what the day holds…" Jean-Luc said, accepting that it was time to get up from the warmth of the blanket and the tangle of their bodies—which, he could tell, they weren't going to discuss. It was for warmth, after all, and nothing more, so what was there to discuss.

Beverly let out something like a sigh.

"I know you're not going to like what I have to say," she said.

"And, yet, that has never stopped you before," Jean-Luc said, laughing quietly. "A trait which, admittedly, I admire…"

He added the last part carefully, and his heart thudded hard enough that, given their current positions, he wondered if Beverly could feel it. She smiled softly at him as she raised enough to hold his eyes. He didn't know the meaning of her smile—perhaps it was a reaction to his hint of praise, or perhaps it was amusement over how hard his heart was beating in his chest.

"I know you believe Starfleet will come any day…"

"I don't want you to give up hope," Jean-Luc said. "It's been very little time, after all, for them to work things out."

"I'm not giving up hope, Jean-Luc," Beverly said. "But—I would feel more comfortable with a plan in place."

"A plan?"

"Just in case…"

"In case they don't come," Jean-Luc finished.

"Or, just in case they take longer than you're imagining they might," Beverly said.

Jean-Luc felt his muscles tense slightly and then relax. Beverly didn't seem distraught by this thought, honestly. He didn't hear her voice crack or shake. He saw no dampening of her eyes. There wasn't even any significant movement of the muscles of her face beyond a look of concern that pulled her eyebrows closer together—a look of concern, he realized, that was for him.

His heart, having calmed from its last rendition of some exotic dance, launched into another, and he nearly laughed at the thought that he would have had the cardiac equivalent of a five-mile run before he ever threw back the covers and faced the cold of the morning.

She wanted a plan, and a plan was a wonderful idea—but Jean-Luc didn't dare speak to her of the dreams he'd been indulging in that went much farther, likely, than any plan she may desire for simple security and stability.

"I was just thinking…something similar," Jean-Luc said.

Beverly seemed to perk up a little, at that. Her smile changed slightly. Something in her eyes, even, seemed to flicker—but Jean-Luc was sure that he was imagining it. He was, at the moment, at a great risk of letting his imagination run away with him. Imaginations, he knew, once indulged, were dangerous things that were hard to get under control again.

"Really?" She asked.

"Really," he confirmed. "What exactly did you have in mind?"

"I know we have so many things we've talked about needing to do…"

"But many of those are of relatively equal importance," Jean-Luc said. "We can decide which takes priority…and we appear to have time to address them as necessary. If you think that there is a matter that is more pressing than the others, we can certainly address it first."

"Food," Beverly said, with no more hesitation. "Food and, if possible, more easily accessible water. We can keep going in the cave, but it's dangerous."

"I agree," Jean-Luc said. He thought he saw a quick flash of disbelief on her features, as though she'd expected him to argue with her. He swallowed his amusement. Part of him wondered how the day might progress if he simply resolved not to argue with her about anything from this point forward.

"If we explore, it will give us a chance to observe the native flora and fauna," Beverly said, almost sounding almost trepidatious. "The rations won't last forever, Jean-Luc…and though they're designed to be nutritionally balanced, there's something to be said for fresh food."

"You won't hear any argument from me about that," Jean-Luc agreed.

Beverly sat up a bit more. The blanket fell away slightly and Jean-Luc felt the cold of the morning. It wasn't quite what it had been the last time he'd ventured to move the blanket aside even a little. Outside, he reasoned, the sun must be rising enough to begin to warm the planet's surface.

"You want to look for food and water?" Beverly said.

Jean-Luc was amused. Still, her reaction made his muscles feel relaxed. It made his mind feel relaxed. The idea of looking for food and water—and sustainable sources of both, at that—with Beverly made him feel oddly hopeful about the future, though simply thinking that made his stomach flip as though he were on a platform that had suddenly dropped out from under him. Something inside of him, however, desired to simply let go and enjoy the adventure of the fall.

"Absolutely," Jean-Luc said. "I think it's the best use of our day. But, first—allow me to arrange a fire, while you decide on our morning rations. I'll bring us some water for the morning, too."

"I'll tidy the bedroom," Beverly offered. "And, while the water heats, I'll gather our weapons and supplies for exploring."

Jean-Luc smiled at her.

"I suppose, then, it's time to rise and face the day," he said. "What?" He asked, when he saw her expression change.

"You almost sound sad about that," she said, laughing quietly. "The man who always wanted to rise as early as possible…so as to not miss a moment of productivity."

He accepted her teasing.

"Sometimes, things change, I suppose," he said. He decided the words were just enough. He left his full meaning in the shadows of those words.

Her expression changed slightly, again, but she offered no explanation.

"Sometimes, they do," she agreed. "And—sometimes…they change for the best."