Picard felt his breath catch in his chest, uncertain as yet if he were hallucinating or if he had, indeed, stepped into a perfect recreation of Jack and Beverly's San Francisco apartment from so many years ago. His eyes were drawn immediately to the owner of the voice, that voice that was achingly familiar, hauntingly so even.

As farfetched as some of the scenarios he'd imagined he might find when he entered the holodeck, he had to admit that *this* one hadn't even crossed his mind. As his thoughts drifted, so too did his gaze. Jack Crusher was seated on one end of the sofa he could vividly remember from those long-ago days. How many times had he sat in the armchair opposite, enviously watching Beverly sitting across from him, Jack's arm firmly around her shoulders or worse yet, perched on Jack's knees, a teasing smile directed at her fiancé, then husband?

He inhaled sharply when his eyes shifted further to the right and he spotted Beverly, clearly deeply asleep, wrapped in what could only be her Nana's quilt, on the opposite end of the sofa from Jack. Her head was resting on the arm of the sofa, her back to its edge, knees, feet and legs tucked into the back cushion. The level of detail in the programme was… astonishing if his memory could be relied upon. The pattern and colours on the couch fabric alone seemed utterly perfect, as if he'd stepped twenty years back in time.

"Impressive, isn't it? Then again, I wouldn't expect anything less from Wesley. He is his mother's son after all. Clearly, he took after Bev in the brains department." Jack was smiling widely at him, seated nonchalantly on the couch as if sharing a self-deprecating joke with a dead man was an everyday occurrence… Picard seized on the subject, hoping to give himself some time to recover his wits.

"Wesley?" "Jack" nodded in confirmation.

"I left a holographic message for Wesley, recorded just after he was born. Wes had a lot of questions about me, things that Beverly couldn't necessarily answer for him. Only reasonable, I guess. It was always my intention to make more… A gift of sorts, for when he came of age… only I never had the chance." Picard immediately remembered Beverly telling him about Jack's message, not that she'd seen it, but that she'd given it to Wesley. He'd just returned from LaBarre, he remembered now, having spent some time there recuperating after his abduction by the Borg.

"He told me, later, that sometimes, he couldn't remember what my face looked like… That it scared him… And so, voilà… After he'd watch the holo, Wes felt… compelled… to know more, know *everything* about me. So, with the help of old logs and letters, input from official records and of course, his mother… he created me." Picard wasn't certain what look was currently residing on *his* face, but he could read his old friend's visage quite easily even after all these years and Jack's look was playfully chastising.

"Don't give me that look Jean-Luc. It's not as morbid as it seems… It was less about the end product than it was about the creation of the programme. Going through the logs, old holos, the process helped to provide closure, for both of them. At least, that's what Wes said. He didn't really visit all that often but combing through my life and their recollections of my life, well, I'd like to think that it helped both Beverly and Wes to move on. In fact, I can't remember the last time Wesley visited me here, and Beverly never did, until recently that is…"

Picard could see, in his mind's eye, mother and son going through old logs and even older memories and recollections, bonding in their mutual grief and healing, how that process could have provided a closure neither had necessarily known was needed. Closure which had apparently been *achieved* and yet, here she was…

"Nuh-uh… I know that look too, Jean-Luc… You're overthinking yourself right into an erroneous conclusion… You know, I need to thank you, for the role that you've played in Wesley's life, for watching out for Beverly." Picard felt himself being pulled into this conversation with a holodeck recreation of his old friend, very much in spite of his best intentions and the equivalent of a mental red alert sounding loudly in his mind.

"I'm not sure I've done such a great job at either of those things… After the accident…" His voice trailed off as the bizarre nature of the conversation and with *whom* he was having it hit him.

"But you've made up for it. Nobody's perfect, not even the great Captain Johnny Picard."

Picard still felt guilty for abandoning Beverly and her son when they'd needed him most, but nodded at Jack, hoping that he would get to the point and soon reveal something about Beverly's *recent* use of the programme.

"So, that leads us to what she's doing here now, wouldn't you say? Although I think the answer to that is fairly obvious… to us both… I'm just wondering how you two have managed to foul it up so badly?"

"Foul *what* up exactly?"

"Oh please…" Jack rolled his eyes and sent Picard a look that begged the older man to please stop wasting a dead man's time. "I'd say it's pretty obvious she's in love with you… I know Beverly after all… I know when she's in love." Picard swallowed hard and looked away, unable to maintain eye contact with this facsimile of his one-time best friend, his friend whose wife he had always coveted.

"Jack… I don't…"

"Don't tell me that you don't love her too, Jean-Luc…. A lot of my personal logs had quite a bit to say about you, quite a few insights into who we were to each other, and I'd hate for you to dishonour our friendship by lying." Good God, Wesley had outdone himself, thought Picard. If he didn't know better, if the man in front of him hadn't obviously *not* aged at all since…. Well, he'd think he actually *was* talking to Jack Crusher. No wonder Beverly…. That thought brought him back around to his reason for being here, for this intrusion into Beverly's private… coping mechanism…

"Jack…" The unbelievable thought that he was talking to a holographic projection of a dead man hit him again, hard.

"She wanted to come to *you.*. To talk to *you* Jean-Luc, but… You were both feeling… what? Embarrassed? You know our girl…". Picard had to swallow hard at that and clear the tears from his eyes. That moniker could have come from nowhere other than Jack's personal logs or letters. He'd forgotten that… that Jack used to call Beverly "our girl" as if she belonged to them both… and she had, really. She had been friend and confidant to both of them. She had *loved* both of them, just… differently… and *now* not so differently, he mused. *Our girl… *My* girl now…*

"So, do you want to tell me why you've allowed her to push you away? Why she's been spending her nights here on this couch in our old apartment, talking to a recreation of her dead husband, instead of in your bed?" Picard ran both hands over his bald head, shutting his eyes firmly as if in doing so he could unhear the words.

Had he really forgotten how brutally blunt Jack could be? Jovial, good-hearted Jack, who wanted what was best for everyone, who would give anything for those he loved, who would want nothing more than to see Beverly happy. She hasn't been too happy lately, Jean-Luc... He glanced guilty at Jack, who stared back at him benignly, awaiting an answer. No, he hadn't been nearly as diligent in taking care of Beverly as his friend would have expected of him.

"It's… a bit more complicated than that, Jack…". He could not believe he was actually having this surreal conversation with his deceased best friend's image while said friend's wife, with whom *he* was in love, slept on oblivious to it all, her feet resting on her dead husband's leg.

Jack waved him off. "I know all about it. The telepathic implants, the anaphasic… rapist." This last word was spat out so vehemently that Jean-Luc cringed. He glanced quickly down at Beverly, afraid Jack's harsh voice would have woken her. For some reason, he didn't want her to wake up to find him talking about her to a holodeck version of her deceased husband. Don't forget that you forced your way in here and invaded her privacy, Jean-Luc…

While Picard was ruminating, Jack finished the list of things that had befallen Beverly just in the last six months. His voice was infinitely softer when he added the final calamity. "Wesley's departure…" He looked at Picard and, correctly interpreting his expression, added with a shrug "She's been spending a lot of time here. We've talked about a lot of things but… mainly about you…"

—-

The following day...

Unable to put Deanna off any longer he caught her gaze and pulled himself up and out of the centre chair. Tugging his uniform tunic into place he indicated to the Counsellor that she should proceed him into the ready room.

"Number One, you have the bridge."

"Aye, Sir."

As he seated himself in his chair behind his desk, he reflected that although he was much better informed than he'd been the last time he'd sat across from the Counsellor just yesterday, he was perhaps even less enthusiastic about engaging in conversation regarding this particular topic. He lightly drummed his fingertips on the surface of his desk, wondering where exactly to begin, when Deanna broke the silence.

"Captain…" He held up a hand to her, indicating that he knew exactly what she was going to say.

"Deanna," She immediately took note of his more familiar tone. "Before we go any further, you should know that I successfully accessed Beverly's holodeck programme yesterday evening."

Her eyes widened and she raised her eyebrows indicating that she was waiting for him to continue.

"Deanna… I really don't think that it's anything to be overly concerned about. Perhaps we should simply let Beverly work this out on her own. In the past…"

"I beg your pardon, Sir, but as I have indicated previously, I am not certain that that is the best course of action." She looked at him and paused to get a sense of his emotions before continuing. "Captain, I am sensing that you are embarrassed, that you would rather not have this discussion at all, but if I am to help Beverly then I really do need to know what I am dealing with." She looked at him pointedly and he could feel the shame and discomfort growing. Would he really rather Beverly suffer alone than reveal what he'd seen on the holodeck?

Picard was beginning to feel more and more uncomfortable with his own actions and reactions over the last six months and what they said about him. Were there really limits to his friendship with Beverly? Was his ego so fragile that her rejection of him, then his reticence to engage with her about what Ronin had done, had led him to turn away from her when she needed him the most… as he had after Jack's death...? And was his embarrassment for *himself* and his need to hide what he felt for her really more important than what Beverly needed right now? Could he not overcome his self-consciousness in order to be there for her, as she'd been for him, countless times?

"It would seem that Wesley created a simulation of his father, in order to… get to know him and to help him to better accept losing Jack. Beverly apparently… assisted him, provided background information, logs…" He swallowed hard but continued to hold the Counsellor's eyes. "Beverly has… She's been visiting… spending time with the simulation." Troi didn't look nearly as shocked as he'd thought she would. She didn't react at all until he continued "Obviously this cannot be allowed to continue…"

"It *is* unusual. Beverly has never been a typical counselling patient, but yes, it would be preferable that she talk to someone that she trusts rather than a holodeck creation… She's seeking comfort and… security, and so far, nothing that I've tried has been able to provide that…" She looked knowingly at Picard at that point. "Perhaps, Sir, *you* should be the one to talk to her. In fact, that might be exactly what she needs right now, what you *both* need right now. I think, Captain, that if you sincerely wish her holodeck visits to stop… then you know what you must do."

Beverly stepped through the holodeck doors, feeling for the first time, unsettled upon entering this false recreation of a much happier time in her life. Since Jean-Luc's visit to sickbay yesterday she'd been tentative about using the programme. She felt… guilty… she realised, as if she were somehow betraying Jean-Luc… That thought startled her so much that she stopped abruptly, hesitation radiating from her like a beacon.

She turned the matter over in her mind and brushed off the objections of her conscience. After all, what did it matter *where* she slept, as long as she was *able* to sleep? She hadn't even really talked to Jack after the first few nights she'd spent in their old apartment, well, in the *simulation* of their old apartment. She simply needed someone to stay the night with her, to know that someone she trusted was close by, to feel safe.

You could have had that, Beverly* she chastised herself not for the first and probably not for the last time. *If you hadn't pushed Jean-Luc away, you wouldn't have to…* Her breath hitched at this last thought as she stood just over the threshold of the entrance to the holodeck, attempting to gather her courage.

Picard, unsurprisingly, was still awake. It was late, going on 24h00, but each time he thought about calling it a night and making his way to his bedroom, Troi's parting words would echo through his mind, leaving him still sat, dressed in his pyjama pants in his living room, trying to find the courage to make his way down to the holodeck and confront Beverly.

"Computer, location of Dr. Crusher?"

"Dr. Crusher is currently located in holodeck two." He sighed deeply. Tomorrow, he would confront her about all of this tomorrow. Feeling like tomorrow he would no doubt regret taking the path of least resistance tonight, he nevertheless pushed himself off of the sofa and turned towards his bedroom. Just as he was about to cross the threshold, he heard the sound of his door chime.

"Come" he called absently, turning back to face his visitor.

The doors opened, and to his utter shock, there stood the subject of his late-night contemplation. She was wearing a long blue robe that had slid slightly down one shoulder and he could see just a touch of her nightgown underneath. He was so stunned that he seemed to have momentarily lost the power of speech. His unexpected guest looked at him with uncertainty.

"I can come back… You're obviously getting ready to turn in" she said as she took in his attire or rather lack thereof.

"No!" he snapped abruptly, then more softly added "No. No, don't go. Come in."

"I don't even know what I'm doing here" she muttered as she entered his quarters and the doors hissed shut, sealing them both in.

"I must admit that I'm surprised to see you." Steeling himself, he continued. The time had come. Obviously, she thought so too since she was here, in his cabin, instead of visiting with Jack. "I thought you'd be spending the night on the holodeck…"

She shook her head, eyes wide in shock. "What are you talking about?"

Reaching out his hand to take hers before she could bolt, he led her to the sofa and pulled her down beside him, refusing to release her hand even when she half-heartedly attempted to retrieve it. God, how he wished Deanna were here. He was not at all as confident in his ability to navigate this delicate confrontation as the Counsellor was.

Looking down at their joined hands he drew a breath and stepped into the breach. "Deanna came to me yesterday… concerned… Concerned about you, Beverly… She's been… keeping an eye on you, monitoring…"

"Spying? She was spying on me?" He looked up to see a spark of anger in her blue eyes, her face and chest flushed. He continued to hold her gaze until he saw the anger change to embarrassment.

"She was worried about you, Beverly and it is her duty to ensure…"

At that, she tugged at her hand in his, rebelling against him defaulting to his position as Captain right now. She didn't want to speak with the Captain. He knew immediately that he had said the wrong thing, and exactly what that thing was.

"No. I didn't mean it like that…" The stress he was feeling was evident in his eyes and in the hand he brought up to rub across his forehead and over his pate. "I feel like we have been walking on eggshells with each other for so long, that I'm finding it difficult to do otherwise. Deanna came to me, because as your *friend* I should be informed about her concerns. I should have known, *would* have known already if things weren't so… fragile… between us. I don't know… Well, yes, I do know how we got here. What I want now, more than anything, is for us to find a way back to the way we were before. Whatever way you want that to be, whatever you need that to look like. I don't want these… secrets, this… awkwardness between us any longer…" She looked at him in genuine confusion at his use of the word "secrets."

"The… the simulation… The holodeck programme. The reason that Counsellor Troi felt the need to intervene was in part because of your secrecy around it, the fact that it's untraceable…" He saw that her look of confusion hadn't dissipated at all, so he elaborated. "According to Deanna it's as if the programme doesn't exist when not in use. I had to use my override to enter…". She was shaking her head, only looking more puzzled at his explanation.

"I've no idea, Jean-Luc. I helped Wesley with the parameters, with the… I don't know… more creative aspects of it, I guess you could say… Technically, I haven't the faintest clue what he added nor how he coded it." Searching her eyes and finding only sincerity in her gaze, he released a long slow breath, his body relaxing minimally. Then he saw the moment that what he'd said registered with her, the fact that he'd entered the programme.

"Last night… I overrode the lockout and entered the holodeck... I'd decided to discuss it with you tomorrow…" He watched her face closely as the import of this revelation settled on her completely. He could only hope that she would remain in his cabin long enough to have this much needed conversation, to have the courage to work this through. He chanced a look at her eyes, hoping he'd not see the anger she so often wielded as a shield to protect herself, and feeling relief at its absence. The fact that her hand was still securely in his grasp gave him hope despite the fact that she quickly averted her eyes.

"After… after Wesley left… I was having difficulty sleeping. I'd already been struggling after…" she looked at him hesitantly "after Caldos. I'd tried everything I could think of, but…When Deanna suggested holotherapy after… Ronin… It made me think about how creating that programme with Wesley… how it had helped both Wesley and I, gave us both a sense of closure… I just needed someone there to…" Her voice trailed off uncertainly.

"And that someone couldn't be me." He stated this without inflection, without accusation, knowing exactly why she had felt unable to come to him.

"Neither of us handled the… aftermath… of KesPrytt very well. We were… It felt like you were so distant after that night, that I'd driven you away and before we could find our way back to normal…" She raised her free hand and made a gesture which seemed to indicate nothing and yet everything. After… after Caldos, I didn't know how to face you." She couldn't face him now either, her gaze locked firmly on the viewport on the opposite wall. "I was so… ashamed for being so weak, for allowing…" She looked at him then, tears welling up and acting instinctively, he leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on her temple then rested his forehead against hers, breathing deeply.

"Not weak, Beverly. Never that. You are the strongest person I know, but no matter how strong, you are not to blame for being unable to defend yourself against him. This was not your fault." He could feel dampness against his skin where his hands cupped her cheeks, holding her face to his not allowing her to retreat from him.

Using his thumbs to swipe away her tears he placed small kisses to her forehead, temple then eyelids as he felt her emotional outpouring finally shudder to a halt. Never had he taken such liberties with her, but as long as she didn't protest, as long as she allowed it…. He cursed himself for not confronting her sooner, for allowing his own fear of her rejection to paralyse him, for making her come to him. Releasing her face with one last soft kiss to the corner of her mouth, he reached up and grasped both of her hands from their position on his chest.

"Come." He saw her hesitate. "Come to bed."

Beverly looked at him closely, then simply nodded, giving in. She didn't *want* to resist. She needed this, needed him. No where did it say, was it written that she had to do everything alone. She'd been alone for so long that she simply didn't know any other way to be. *But you haven't been alone, Beverly. You've had Jean-Luc in whatever limited way you've both allowed.* And when she'd pushed him away, that was when everything had begun to unravel.

They were *already* intimate, she realised, emotionally if not physically. It was too late to keep him at arm's length in some vein attempt to protect herself from the devastation of losing him. If anything positive had come from her experience on Caldos, it was that she'd finally realised that either way she'd be devastated at the loss of him. So why not allow yourself to *be* with him, Beverly? If he is your heart, your soul, essential to your well-being and happiness, then why resist?

Seeing permission in her eyes, he tugged her off of the sofa and into his arms briefly before turning and leading her by the hand into his bedroom. She hesitated only momentarily before shedding her robe and slipping under the covers then shifting over to where he held his arm extended in invitation. She snuggled her length up against his side, head in the hollow of his shoulder, hand coming to rest on top of his heart. They stayed that way for several minutes, just savouring the closeness, the quiet intimacy of the moment before in a hushed voice, she broke it.

He heard the tears in her voice, very close to the surface, but intuitively knew that the reason behind them was different from earlier in the living room.

"I just needed to sleep, to be able to sleep… and I couldn't come to you because I'd pushed you away… Jean-Luc I'm so sorry that I pushed you away that night…" It seemed to him that she felt the need to justify or defend her actions to him during that disastrous evening following the mission to KesPrytt.

"It's alright…. You don't need to explain…"

"It's *not* though. It's not alright. I just left you there, fled, like a coward."

"Beverly, you're not the only one who has lacked courage lately. I didn't come after you. I should have come after you… then after Caldos I should have come to you. I shouldn't have allowed my own… inadequacies to prevent me from being there for you."

"I don't know that I would have allowed you to even if you had… Jean-Luc, I am so tired of being afraid, of running away. In every other aspect of my life, I am fearless and yet…" Jean-Luc couldn't help but privately agree. Thinking back over the years, Beverly was often fearless to the point of recklessness. He didn't think reminding her of that now would further the conversation to his advantage, and so wisely kept his thoughts to himself.

"I don't want to be afraid of this anymore. When I almost lost you, on Caldos, when… Ronin… almost killed you, I realised that I would regret forever, never being with you if something happened… Afterwards, I just couldn't seem to overcome my own shame and embarrassment and fear. I wanted to come to you. I *needed* to come to you and yet I… couldn't."

"You're here now…"

"Yes. Yes, I am, aren't I?"

"And… perhaps it would be easier to overcome our concerns, our fears if we worked at it... together…"

She looked at him for so long that he thought he'd said the wrong thing, that he'd pushed her too far, too fast. He was, therefore, caught completely off guard when she leaned forward and captured his lips with hers. Her lips moving against his were in no way hesitant or unsure and he quickly became caught up in the sensual spell she was weaving around him, here, in his bed, site of so many passionate and erotic fantasies, all of them featuring this woman.

She sucked his bottom lip between her teeth then rolled her body more fully towards him, raising her head from his shoulder, her mouth slanting over his in a dance that quickly became insistent and carnal. He felt the hand on his chest move from one side to the other, teasing his nipples before slowly moving lower. The soft skin of her inner thigh smoothing against, then over and around his hip and leg brought him back to awareness. He released her lips, and she lifted her head slightly. His voice was husky in the silence of the dimly lit room.

"Beverly, I didn't bring you here for… this. I… are you sure?"

"I want you. I... I love you and I want you."

With a groan he pushed his hands into her hair and, cupping her nape, pulled her lips back down to his, all restraint now gone. He tried to force himself to go slowly, to savour this, but Beverly had other ideas. Lips barely leaving his she slid her leg the rest of the way over his hips, straddling him and in one swift, sure movement pulled her nightgown up and over her head, exposing herself fully to his rapt gaze.

He'd never seen anything so arousing as Beverly, her hair tousled from his roving fingers, her lips wet and swollen from his kisses, reaching for his hands and bringing them up to cover her breasts, squeezing, gently indicating what she wanted. In spite of himself, he felt his hips buck up towards the heat of her, the only thing separating them the thin material of his pyjama bottoms.

She shifted up and slid her hands under the waistline of his pants, sliding them down and over his hips and buttocks as he lifted himself up to assist her. Finally, there was nothing between them at all and closing her eyes she moved one hand over him, stroking him to fullness then, straddling his thighs, she pushed up onto her knees. The sight of her other hand snaking between her legs, delving into her own wetness and beginning to circle then stroke herself almost undid him completely.

He was utterly captured, eyes flying between the enraptured expression on her face and her hand, both of her hands, her breathy whimpers turning to moans as she brought both of them closer to the edge. He closed his eyes, blocking out the image of her, or burning it deeply into his memory, he wasn't certain which… trying desperately to regain control before he lost it completely and spent himself in her fisted hand.

Dear God, he was going to combust, years' worth of the most explicit of his own mental imaginings of her, of *them* bombarding him. He could smell her, the scent of her inflaming him until he couldn't take it any longer. Using his legs and hips he flipped her over and as she gazed up at him from glazed half-lidded eyes he pushed into her, desperately trying to maintain his control, to make this last even if only for a little while.

As he looked down at her she slowly, deliberately brought her hands up to her breasts, caressing, then pinching her nipples and he gave in. Propped up on one forearm he used the other hand to shift her thigh out and up, opening her to him completely as he pummelled into her again and again. He felt her muscles quiver, heard her stutter out his name in release and spilling himself into her grunted hers in return, against her face where he'd collapsed, completely senseless. Some moments later he carefully rolled off of her pulling her with him until they were facing each other, his forehead resting against hers once again.

"Jean-Luc?

"Hmmm...?" He was drowsy, sated, more content than he thought he'd ever been in his life.

"What did… what did you talk about… with Jack I mean?" She didn't know if he would answer, if she even *wanted* him to answer.

"About guilt and… fear but… mostly about you." She tried to read his expression in the low light. "About what a privilege it is, what a gift it is to love and be loved… by you."

She blinked the tears back and kissed him firmly on the lips.

"I love you, Jean-Luc." He returned her kiss, his hand on her cheek keeping her eyes firmly on his.

"And I love you. Always."