The start to breakfast that morning was at first fraught with tension until he'd stood to greet her near the door. He grabbed her hand and pulled her towards him for a soft kiss, then poured her a cup of coffee before settling into his accustomed place. Understanding that he wouldn't push any type of conversation or confrontation, she'd relaxed, and they'd successfully navigated a rather ordinary morning meal.
He hadn't wanted to bring about the return of the anxiety he'd sensed when he'd first ushered her in this morning, but neither did he want her to assume that he was planning to resume their habit of ignoring the elephant in the room. Turning around from the recycler, she visibly startled when she found him directly in her path. This new bold Jean-Luc would take some time to get used to.
He saw her swallow hard as he settled his hands on her hips, squaring their bodies up, but leaving some space between them. He could feel her uncertainty and deliberately kept his voice light and undemanding, yet his intentions were nonetheless very clear.
"I'll see you tonight." These "orders" given in the guise of innocuous statements that could be mistaken for questions were also new. He saw her hesitate.
"I'll come over. We'll talk." She nodded, her gaze now firmly on his chest.
Her muscles jumped slightly when his hand cupped her cheek, his proximity suddenly far beyond what was normal for them… and that had always been her purview, invading his space and tightening the already fierce sexual tension until it thrummed unbearably between them. He turned her face towards his. His nose brushing hers as he suddenly captured her lips in a searing kiss.
When he finally pulled back, she felt his knuckles, the back of his hand brushing softly against her cheek then a thumb tracing her bottom lip, dipping inside slightly until, without thought, she nipped at it drawing an amused puff of air from the man standing before her, the sound bringing her slightly back to herself.
Her eyes fluttered open to find him staring at her intensely, pupils blown wide with banked desire. A slight smirk settled softly onto his features as he kissed her once more. By the time he released her she was breathless, her eyes slumbrous and slow to respond as she attempted to refocus.
Fancifully, he thought that his problems would be solved if he could simply keep Beverly in a perpetual state of arousal. If only, he reflected as he watched her disappear into the corridor, all of their communication could be so straightforward and uncomplicated.
"I'm not sure what to do with this."
Picard had realised almost immediately that, as much as he would rather not divulge the details of what had happened almost two decades ago, this was beyond his ability to navigate successfully without Deanna's input. As soon as the morning's most pressing business had been attended to, he'd called the Counsellor into his Ready Room.
Deanna sat for a moment, stunned and unable to respond. She'd always known that there was something more than just Picard's withdrawal and unrequited love between them, that Beverly especially was holding something back… but this, this was much more than even her wildest imaginings.
"She never contacted you?"
"Right after the funeral, she sent two messages. I didn't respond. I imagine she felt later…. that I wouldn't want to know…"
"You were both devastated by grief and loss and then… guilt…." she offered quietly. "Neither of you made the wisest of decisions, looking back. At the time, you simply did the best you could…" He nodded noncommittally, willing to accept what she was saying at least on an intellectual level. On an emotional level his acute guilt at having abandoned Beverly when she'd needed him would not allow for any excuse.
"Part of you is upset with Beverly for not telling you, but you are mostly angry with yourself for running away. I think you understand now why she might be afraid of a relationship with you."
"Yes, I left her there to deal with it all on her own."
"You did."
"Years. I should have stayed, talked to her, answered her messages… I didn't see her for years and then when I did… I pushed her away. I should have stayed… I…" He swallowed hard and broke eye contact with her then, unable to continue.
He saw comprehension dawning on her face. "You think that if you had stayed that she wouldn't have lost the baby." Deanna felt a wave of violent self recrimination.
"Jean-Luc… there was nothing you could have done…" He ran a hand up and over his head but remained mute. The regret and sadness and guilt pouring off of him nearly took her breath away. His eyes when he finally looked at her were glistening with the unshed tears he was fighting to contain.
"You still feel a lot of guilt surrounding that night." She said softly. "And now to find that that moment of grief and loss resulted in a child… a child which was lost…. It must feel like a punishment somehow…". He closed his eyes as if unable to face her.
"She… I have been very clear about not being comfortable around children, adamant about not wanting any of my own. She probably thought then that I wouldn't have wanted… She probably thinks now that I…" His vulnerability in that moment almost overwhelmed her.
"She might, yes. But we both know that that's not true… Don't we?"
"Yes," he breathed out. He knew that this was what he had called her in here for but that didn't make it any easier to bear.
"Then Beverly needs to know that. You need to show her how more recent experiences have changed your opinion on relationships… and children. Prove to her that you've changed your mind about what you want, what you want with her. That is what you want, isn't it? To build a life with her?"
He knew what she was asking of him. He'd shared that part of himself with no one save Deanna herself and Nella…. It had felt less consequential, less life altering somehow, sharing it with Nella.
He'd focussed on the musical connection to Kataan with Nella, only once mentioning the deeper link to an entire life as a man with a family. Beverly would have intuited every emotion, would have understood immediately the depth of the loss he still felt so keenly and left him exposed and vulnerable. Nella had never guessed at any of it.
"After your experience on Kataan, after losing your family in the way that you did, the knowledge that you've lost a child you never knew existed…". He turned tortured eyes towards her. "You've never told Beverly about your family on Kataan…. Your loss…. Don't you think, given what you now know, that she deserves that truth from you?
That loss is already influencing your reaction to discovering that you have lost another child. Don't you think that it will continue to colour any relationship you hope to have with Beverly going forward? What if you should have another child together?"
"I have never had a child," he retorted, his voice full of strangled anguish.
"I know that it must feel that way now. That you've never had a child and yet you have keenly felt that loss… Twice now." He remained tight-lipped as he grappled to maintain control.
"Why have you never told Beverly about your life on Kataan?" she tried again. She saw him hesitate then felt his reluctant decision to answer truthfully.
"It felt like too much of a risk, especially when I didn't know how she felt about me. I was afraid that a part of her would always hate me, blame me for Jack and for that night…"
"Start there…". He looked at her questioningly. "When you talk to Beverly. She needs to know why you've not told her as well as how it is relevant to your relationship now. Start there."
Picard stood with Deanna, but she touched his arm before he could turn away, deciding to be a bit more direct than she would have normally dared.
"Jean-Luc… Never having dealt with it, Beverly will be feeling just as devastated by this loss, even a decade later. This could be a wedge which will forever be between you… or it can be what finally brings you together." She squeezed his arm before turning and exiting onto the bridge.
The silence once he'd finished speaking was oppressive and absolute. They were sitting side by side on her sofa, cups of cold untouched tea abandoned on the coffee table. One by one he watched as emotions flickered over her features. Shock and bewilderment, then confusion. She finally met his gaze, her eyes questioning.
"I'm sorry, Beverly. For leaving that night without talking to you. For pushing you away years later. For not being honest with you since then. For so many things. That night…. I wanted nothing more than to stay."
"Then why didn't you?!" Her voice was bewildered and thick with emotion.
"Beverly… I couldn't allow myself to stay. I had taken advantage…"
"What?!" she breathed out, her tone incredulous.
"Beverly, we had just buried your husband, my best friend… I should have had more control over…"
"You did not take advantage of me, Jean-Luc!" Is that what he thought? "Jean-Luc, I kissed you! I wanted you! You think that I was somehow… coerced?! That you made up my mind for me?" she scoffed. He was unbelievable. "I climbed into your lap and…" She broke off, suddenly hesitant.
"Is that why you didn't answer my messages? Why you've insisted we are nothing more than friends all of these years? Why you have repeatedly pushed me away? I thought we were helping each other that night. I needed you.
I didn't regret it until it became clear that you regretted it, that you thought it was a mistake. We were helping each other. We were both sick with grief and sought comfort and escape in the arms of a friend."
"We were never just friends! Not to me!" he almost shouted.
"Jean-Luc…"
"We were never just friends, Beverly. I loved you. I wanted you. And the second..." he swallowed past the emotion before continuing. "Don't you see? Jack was gone and I could finally have you for myself and it was wrong…"
"It was not wrong. That night wasn't just about you, Jean-Luc. If you feel ashamed about what we did, how am I supposed to feel about it?" she almost hissed at him.
"It was not so wrong that we should continue to punish ourselves for it almost two decades later. Jack was gone. You did not betray him, because if you did then so did I. You want to martyr yourself, but I was not some helpless victim that night!"
She had felt so much guilt and shame about what had happened between them, and she was done paying penance for being human, for turning to a friend in a moment of need.
"You're right. I never… I was only thinking of what I had done, how it made me feel, what it said about me."
"Well, for me it said a hell of a lot more that you disappeared without a word then ignored my messages," she replied, her tone scathing.
"Yes. I know," he agreed.
"And all of this? Tonight? I told you about what happened all those years ago and you've told me this tonight to… what? Even things up?"
"No, I've told you now because you were right."
"Right?"
"What you said. That we've been hiding from one another to try and…. protect ourselves, and maybe each other. If we're to make this work, we need to start with complete honesty, no matter how difficult that might be."
She seemed to accept that. The former was, after all, exactly what they'd both been doing for years and the latter the only way they could ever hope to rebuild their friendship, his aspirations for something deeper aside.
"Why are you telling me all of this now, Jean-Luc? Why not…?"
"Because as much as I try to deny that those experiences were "real," the impact on me, on us, going forward, is undeniable. Especially given what you shared with me last night." He saw and felt her withdraw.
"Jean-Luc…. I don't know if we should move forward." He knew that she was putting up obstacles, a last-ditch defence against him to avoid risking herself yet again.
"I know that I've given you no reason to trust this, us, Beverly. I understand why you might feel wary, uncertain that I won't change my mind… That I will leave you alone. I understand too, why you didn't tell me… before. It's the same reason that I didn't tell you about my life on Kataan. It…"
He saw her cheeks flush with colour, a sure sign that her back was up, and her temper had been sparked.
"And what would I have said? Hmmm? Should I have said, "Jean-Luc, do you remember that night that you have been trying to forget for over a decade because it fills you with guilt and shame? Well, surprise! I got pregnant that night. But there is no baby because she's dead!" she snapped harshly, defensive aggression evident in every syllable.
"Stop it!" Her face was so pale, her eyes so disconnected, the fitful movements of her hands so jarringly at odds with her normal grace, that he was fearful that she was on the verge of a panic attack or that she might faint.
"Stop, Beverly" he added more softly. She was shaking her head at him.
"You're right. I allowed my guilt and shame to colour everything else, and I will forever regret how it has shaped our lives. But I will not permit it to continue to do so.
Do I wish that I had stayed, responded to your messages? That I had allowed us the time to grieve Jack's death together? That I had been there when our child died? Yes.
I wish more than anything that I had been the man you needed all those years ago. But…. I can only promise you that I will do better, be better going forward. I love you, Beverly. And I know that, despite everything, you love me too."
He went to take her hands where they rested in her lap and she slapped at him, but he wouldn't let her push him away. He gripped her forearms and attempted to pull her against his body. She flailed against his chest, hands now balled into fists, lashing out wildly as her breathing hitched and she sobbed out a breath.
"It's alright." He captured her thrashing arms between them with one hand and pulled her firmly against him with the other. There was no sound other than his harsh breathing and her muffled sobs. Gradually he felt her resistance lessen as he soothed her, murmuring reassurance into her hair as he held her, willing her to permit him to be there for her now as he hadn't been all those years ago.
She finally allowed him to comfort her, her body relaxing against his and the sobs eventually fading into hitching exhalations. As the tempest within her quieted he finally realised that his face was damp, that he too had been crying.
The shared catharsis on top of the revelations and confessions of the past 48 hours seemed to have exhausted them both. Eventually, he lost track of how long they'd been sitting there as he stroked her hair and back until slowly her breathing evened out, indicating that she'd drifted off.
He closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of her, the reality that they were finally here and beginning to deal with all of this after years of denial…. The weight of her against his chest brought back memories of that night as he clutched her more securely against him.
He mindlessly reached up a hand to drag the quilt from the back of the couch. As he made to drape it more fully over them both, his fingers paused caressing the light knit material. It was the quilt. It was the quilt from her house, from the night of the funeral.
Countless times he'd been to her quarters, sat on this sofa. He'd never before seen this particular quilt. He could only surmise that she'd brought it out recently. Wondering what it meant, hoping that it was a good sign, his mind drifted and soon he followed her into a deep, thankfully dreamless sleep.
He surfaced slowly and immediately attempted to figure out how late or early it was. Something was tickling his face. He could feel soft breath against his cheek as the memories of the previous night came rushing back.
After she'd fallen asleep, he'd managed to manoeuvre them both into a more comfortable position on the couch, eventually settling down on his side with Beverly curled towards him lying half on top of his chest. When he'd closed his eyes after adjusting the quilt, he'd only intended to savour holding her close for a moment but given the current intensity level of the lights in her cabin, it was obvious that he'd fallen asleep. And apparently slept for several hours.
"Computer, time." He kept his voice low.
"It is currently 02h34."
He was just wondering if he could possibly extricate himself from her grasp and move them into the bedroom without waking her when he felt her stretch against him. Her back arched like a cat as she slowly regained consciousness.
He hesitated a moment, but only a moment, before leaning in to brush his lips against hers. He meant to go on as he'd begun, after all. He would not allow her to retreat. Her eyes flew open, blue finding grey no more than an inch or two away.
"Hello." She blushed in response, blinking away the last vestiges of sleep.
"You stayed," she returned softly.
"I did." She turned her head into his shoulder to avoid his gaze as if she'd only now remembered just how they'd come to be here on the sofa in her living room.
"About earlier... Jean-Luc, I need to apologise. I shouldn't have..."
"You've nothing to apologise for…" She pulled back and met his gaze, her look sceptical.
"I know how much it cost you to tell me about your experience with the probe, about your family, and I just… couldn't... I didn't realise how much what had happened was still affecting me. I'm sorry that I didn't handle it well."
"It's alright."
"It's not alright. I shouldn't have lashed out at you last night. It was unforgivable."
"If we want this to work… and I desperately want this to work, Beverly… then we will need to be vulnerable with each other, learn to trust each other with that vulnerability. I imagine that at times that vulnerability will be hurtful or painful, but ultimately necessary. No more hiding."
He heard her swallow hard. Her voice was a rough whisper, barely audible.
"I am just so afraid."
"I know. Me too."
"You are?"
"Yes, I am. You were right. This is a massive risk, but one that I want to take. A risk I would only ever consider taking with you."
"Everything will change…"
"Everything has already changed, Beverly. We can't go back to what we once had. I don't think I want to anyway. Do you?" She shook her head, perhaps not trusting her voice at this point. "There's only forward from here. We now have to decide if we will move forward together."
"You mean me, I have to decide."
"We could have so much more. I want so much more… with you… but yes, the decision is yours. Unless this would be one time you'd actually follow orders…?"
She puffed out a nervously amused breath at his attempt to lighten the mood before responding.
"I don't want to lose you." Her hands were still trapped loosely between them and were now toying with the fabric of the olive-coloured shirt he'd changed into last night before coming over.
"I don't want that either."
"It's just such a risk, Jean-Luc."
"To love you openly, to choose to be with you and risk my heart will indeed be the greatest gamble of my life. I've been running away from this since I first met you for that very reason." He needed her to know that he understood her trepidation, that he was not treating her concerns lightly.
"However, we've already made it past the first hurdle... Granted, it took almost two decades." She sent him a soft little lopsided smile.
"We have."
He tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear and trailed his fingers softly down her cheekbone. She turned her face into his palm nuzzling it with the cold tip of her nose then planted a soft kiss there.
The fingers of his other hand were now combing through the ends of her hair where it lay on the back. He was so caught up, taking full advantage of the liberties she was allowing, that he was surprised when her mouth brushed his lightly. Her eyes drifted closed as she tentatively captured his lips, her tongue probing for entry then gently sweeping inside his mouth.
They'd kissed several times since their confessions of the last two days, but this was the first time that Beverly had initiated intimate contact between them since that night seventeen years previously. Ever hopeful, he allowed her to take the lead, trusting that she wouldn't trifle with his emotions, that this was a "yes" of some sort.
He tasted of Earl Grey and some dark secretive spice. She was enveloped in the faint scent of his day old after shave and an unidentifiable scent that she'd always associated with him. She gradually became aware of his roving hand grazing first her breast then moving down her hip to cup her rear and pull her more snuggly against him.
She moaned into his mouth, then reluctantly pulled back, soft smile curling her lips.
"You want me." She pushed her pelvis against his where his erection pulsed against the softness of her abdomen. He closed his eyes tightly, partially in pleasure, partly in torment. It was his turn to groan aloud.
"You've no idea."
"I think maybe I do." She placed her forehead against his, the tip of her nose rubbing against his cheek.
"I don't want you to feel pressured, Beverly. We can…" The heaviness in her groin, the almost drugged effect that just his proximity was having on her silenced her few remaining doubts.
She cut him off efficiently, using her tongue and lips to nibble a path up his throat, stopping at the hollow between his ear and jaw. She then paused there wreaking havoc with her tongue and teeth until she heard his breath catch. Only then did she continue along her chosen path, finally capturing his lips once again in a hard brief kiss.
"I want you too." Grey eyes captured blue.
"Not just for tonight?" he dared.
"No. Not just for tonight. I'm yours to keep or to lose, Jean-Luc. I always have been." His eyes met hers, full of gentle regret.
"Can you forgive me?"
"I just need you to love me, Jean-Luc. Not only when it's easy, or convenient or because you're afraid you'll lose me…. That's it…. Do you think you can do that?" she asked him seriously. He returned her gaze, his equally as intense.
"I do…. I can and I will. I promise. Always, Beverly."