AN: Here we are, another piece to this one.
I hope you enjoy! Please don't forget to let me know what you think!
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Beverly hesitated to bring her eyes back to Jean-Luc's face. He was looking at her expectantly. Of course, he was. She knew, very well, what the box contained, and she knew what it meant. Beverly shook her head at him as he pushed his chair aside and started to take the traditional stance of a man asking for a woman's hand in marriage.
"No—Jean-Luc, wait," Beverly said.
She got the words out just after he'd settled on one knee in front of her and his fingers had brushed her hand as he moved to take it. He stopped and drew back like her fingers had burned him.
"No, Beverly?" Jean-Luc asked. "You haven't even…heard…"
Beverly's chest tightened almost unbearably. He looked truly wounded. One disappointment after another, perhaps, was too much for one evening. Beverly thought that it might even be best that he was already on his knees. Instead of remaining on one knee, he lowered the other to the floor, but he made no move to get up.
"I'm sorry, Jean-Luc," Beverly said. "I didn't mean…"
"Unless you're going to finish that statement by saying that you didn't mean to say no, Beverly—then, I'm not certain I want to hear the rest."
There was an unmistakable sharpness to his tone, and Beverly didn't hold it against him or scold him for it.
"I hurt you," she said. "And—I didn't mean to. I'm sorry." Beverly reached a hand out to touch his face, and Jean-Luc moved just enough to make it clear that he didn't want that affection from her. She dropped her hand. "I didn't mean no, Jean-Luc. Not exactly."
He perked up slightly, but the heaviness of too much disappointment weighed as obviously on him as if she could see the proverbial wet blanket around his shoulders.
"What exactly did you mean, Beverly?" Jean-Luc asked.
"If you were about to ask me what I believe that you were about to ask me," Beverly offered, "then—I don't want it to come from a place of obligation. I don't want it to be something that you feel you have to check off of some list, Jean-Luc. And—if that's how you feel, then I want to save you from your own thoughts and beliefs. No is my answer, Jean-Luc, if you feel like you have no choice except to ask the question."
Jean-Luc was quiet for a moment. He made no move to change his position. Beverly made no move, either. Finally, he reached for the box, and he held it in his hand, examining it like he'd never seen it before.
"You have never been an obligation to me, Beverly, though I can understand how you might believe that."
"You never wanted this," Beverly said softly. "Any of it."
"I'm afraid that is where you're quite wrong," Jean-Luc said. He smiled, then. He laughed quietly to himself. He pulled his eyes away from the black felt box and brought them to meet Beverly's eyes. "Has it ever occurred to you, Beverly, that—this is exactly what I have wanted for a very long time? If you will allow me to say my piece…"
Jean-Luc stopped speaking for a second, but he didn't take his eyes away from Beverly. She nodded, letting him know that she wasn't going to interrupt him. A hint of a smile played at his lips, and Beverly found that she couldn't help but mirror it.
"May I?" Jean-Luc asked, reaching for Beverly's hand. She let him take it, and he kissed her fingers. A shiver ran through her body, simply because the way that he sighed after kissing her fingers reminded her of someone finally tasting something that they'd anticipated for a very long time, only to find that it was even better than they'd imagined. "I have believed a great many things in life, and I have come to realize, more often than not, that I have fooled myself. I believed that—a captain couldn't be married. It wasn't fair to ask a wife to understand Starfleet and the life which it demands of you. I believed that I wasn't the kind of man that married. I know, now, that I created that narrative for myself. I built it from the fear that I would never have what I wanted, so it was better to convince myself that I never wanted it at all." Jean-Luc worked Beverly's hand in his own. "It's horribly cliché, but I fear that the truth sometimes is. I loved you the moment I came to know you. I loved you as Beverly Howard. I loved you as Beverly Crusher—even when it was wrong for me to feel that way. I'm asking you now, Beverly, for the opportunity to love you as Beverly Picard."
Beverly felt overwhelmed, almost as if she could drown in her own emotions. She shifted in her chair, turning her body fully toward Jean-Luc. She started to speak, but Jean-Luc raised a finger in her direction as a request that she wait. She nodded her head gently, handing the control entirely to him.
"You understand Starfleet," Jean-Luc said. "You know—the expectations, the risks, and the demands. You understand me, sometimes far beyond my own understanding of myself." He opened the ring box and took out its contents before he placed the empty box on the table. He shifted his own weight, probably uncomfortable on the floor, and took Beverly's hand again. He turned it over, palm-up, on her knee. He showed her the ring before placing it in her palm. "This was my mother's ring. My brother, Robert, chose our grandmother's ring, and I have carried this one for a very long time, in hope, perhaps, that this very moment might come." He smiled at Beverly. "However—I have been reading a book about the things a considerate expectant father might wish to know, and I am aware that a common complaint is that your fingers may be swollen. I wish you would have the ring re-sized, should it require that, when you're ready. However, until then, I have entered the specifications into the replicator. You can change the size of a replicated ring at will. You will also find a chain, in the bottom of the box, should you find that method of wearing it more agreeable while our little one grows."
"Jean-Luc…" Beverly said.
"I'm not finished, and I expect this to be the only time in my life that I do this. I would like to do it my way, then, and to feel that I have done it to the best of my ability," he said, laughing quietly and shaking his head gently at her. She made a show of closing her lips tightly. "My decision to take Wesley with me, today, was not on a whim, Beverly. I asked him for his blessing in asking for your hand and, upon receiving that blessing from him, I asked him to help me choose the bands that I hoped would…when you are ready…signify our union." He turned his hand over to reveal that the other thing which he'd pulled from the felt box was a pair of simple wedding bands. He dropped all of the rings into her palm, and Beverly closed her hand over them all. "So—you see—I am not asking you this out of obligation, nor do I ask it on a whim. I ask this because, Beverly, nothing could please me more than to call you my wife." He shook his head. Beverly felt something catch inside her. She could see his emotion around the edges, where he could barely keep it contained. "And, now? If you refuse me? I have nothing else to convince you otherwise. Will you marry me, Beverly?"
Beverly swallowed against the lump in her throat. She reached for Jean-Luc and, this time, he didn't pull away from her. She touched his face and let her fingertips trail down his cheek. She smiled at him.
"Get off the floor, Jean-Luc," she said.
He shook his head, smiling softly at her. It was a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes and didn't quite hide his obvious anxiety.
"You haven't answered my question," he said.
"Of course, I'll marry you," Beverly said. "Get off the floor, Jean-Luc."
Instead of getting off the floor immediately, Jean-Luc actually leaned over, resting his head in Beverly's lap. At first, the sound that he made was one that she couldn't quite distinguish as being clearly a laugh or clearly a sob. He wrapped his arms around her, and he nuzzled his face into her lap. Beverly scratched his head gently with her fingertips, the rings pressing into her other palm. Moving just slightly forward on his knees, to make himself more comfortable, Jean-Luc pressed a kiss to Beverly's belly—one that he held for a long moment.
Beverly smiled and slipped her hand down to raise his face toward her.
"Are you sure that…the baby isn't the reason you're asking me to marry you?" Beverly asked. She smiled at him, raising her eyebrows, so that he would realize that she was somewhat teasing him, and not in actual danger of retracting her answer.
Jean-Luc's eyes were clearly damp with tears, but Beverly saw no need to draw attention to that.
"Perhaps I needed a nudge in the right direction," Jean-Luc said, "but—it was only a nudge toward helping me believe that…you might consider accepting my proposal."
Jean-Luc finally pulled himself away from Beverly and stood up. He reached a hand toward her, and she accepted it, letting him help her to her feet. He hugged her close to him before he kissed her.
"Please don't change your mind," he said when the kiss broke.
"You better make sure that you're certain about this," Beverly teased. "You've already brought both of my children into this and…if I do this, I mean until death do us part."
Jean-Luc laughed.
"So do I," he said. "And—I will hope that it shall be a very long time before either of us has to see that promise come to pass."
Beverly's stomach tightened.
That was always the risk in love—that one would be required to say goodbye. Even forever wasn't long enough.
"Me too," she said. She leaned to request a kiss, and Jean-Luc met her. He didn't rush the kiss. He let it linger until she chose to break it. Beverly held his eyes a moment, looking for some sign of regret or even for fear. She found neither. All she found, at that moment, was contentment. It made her feel warm and relaxed. "I love you, Jean-Luc."
He smiled at her.
"I love you, too, Beverly," he said.
Beverly held her hand out, the collection of rings in her palm.
"You better put our wedding bands somewhere safe," Beverly said.
"Of course," Jean-Luc said. He took them and placed them on the table where they wouldn't be lost for the time being.
"You didn't put my ring on my finger," Beverly said, pretending to scold him, but failing miserably. "You're supposed to—put my ring on my finger."
Jean-Luc smiled. He took his mother's ring from Beverly's palm. He looked at it, quickly, and then he looked back at Beverly. He kissed her cheek gently before he touched his hand to the place where he'd kissed her.
"My sincerest apologies," he said. He took her hand and slipped the ring up her finger until it was properly seated. "I thought it might not fit," he mused.
"My fingers aren't that swollen at the moment," Beverly said.
"It might even be a little loose," Jean-Luc mused, turning the ring a little before straightening it again.
"It'll do for now," Beverly said. "I can have it sized later, but…I don't think its in any danger of really slipping off. Assuming—I'm allowed to wear it?"
"Please, wear it," Jean-Luc said.
"What about the crew?" Beverly asked. "What about Starfleet? You'll have to tell them."
"Tomorrow morning," Jean-Luc said.
"And our families?" Beverly asked. "My Nana. Your brother. They don't even know about the baby, Jean-Luc. And now this?"
"I thought we might—discuss how we wanted to do that," Jean-Luc said. "Tomorrow."
Beverly smiled at him. She laughed quietly.
"You don't want to discuss anything now," she said.
"For now, all I want to do is share this moment with you," Jean-Luc said. "Only you. For—one moment in time, Beverly, I want to simply enjoy that you have promised to be my wife."
Beverly's pulse picked up at the sincerity behind the statement. She kissed his cheek. She kissed his lips. She threaded their fingers together and closed her eyes at the new sensation of the ring pressing into her finger. She opened her eyes to find Jean-Luc looking at her in a way that still unnerved her, despite the fact that she was growing more accustomed to his open affection.
There would be time for everything. For now, though, there was only this moment—and it would never come again.
"Of course," she said softly. "Come on, Jean-Luc—let's go take that shower you wanted and go to bed."
"You're tired," he mused, not arguing in the least as he followed her toward the bathroom of his quarters.
"Not very," Beverly teased. "I didn't say anything about sleeping."