AN: Here we are, another chapter!
I hope you enjoy! If you do, please do let me know!
111
Jean-Luc sat near the fire—and near Beverly, given that their small home wasn't considerable in size, so that they were always close to each other—and worked at the tasks assigned to him. Without any need to rush or feel pressured, he disassembled what they had found at the ship. He stacked the netted pieces where Beverly wanted them. He filled a box with the bladed pieces. He put the rest of the assembly—not good for much, at the moment, in a box. They would take the discarded pieces back to the ship for storage since, as Beverly pointed out, there was no telling when they might come across a need that they hadn't known they would have, and for which the discarded pieces would be perfect.
When his fingers tired of disassembling those items, he could rest them with the task assigned to him of unravelling some of the nets that were of little use for anything, but whose thread would be good for any number of tasks that Beverly had realized would help them, including being used in weaving together the smaller pieces of netting to create fishing nets that would be effective.
Jean-Luc practically felt sleepy with the mostly mindless work. His body was quite relaxed, and his mind was doing its best to follow suit, despite the fact that he was also still running thoughts around in his brain at a rapid pace, like a dog chasing its tail.
Beside him, Beverly looked entirely serene as she sat weaving together the netted panels to make fishing nets that fit the image that she must have for them in her mind.
Jean-Luc watched her as he sat unravelling thread and neatly wrapping it around one of the discarded plastic pieces, so that the thread wouldn't tangle before Beverly could put it to good use.
"Disassembly. Destruction. Breakdown. All the things that men have been responsible for throughout the ages," Jean-Luc mused. "I'm certainly a credit to my gender, at the moment."
Beverly stopped her work for a moment looked at him. She made a face—a slight show of amusement.
"What are you talking about, Jean-Luc?" She asked. Her voice almost sounded strange to Jean-Luc, since they had spent so long this evening in a comfortable silence.
"I was merely thinking," he said. "My job is breaking these things down. Destroying what they once were to…to bend them to my will, if you will. It's very reminiscent of what men have been responsible for during the ages. Moving from one place to another…from one project to another…breaking down and destroying. Is that what men are best at? Destruction? Tearing things apart?
Beverly raised her eyebrows at him.
"Are you serious?" She asked.
He laughed quietly.
"I'm hardly having some kind of crisis of self, Beverly," he said, soothing some of her concerns. "More—it's a thought, I suppose. A point of conversation, perhaps. But you must admit, it's not entirely untrue."
Beverly seemed to consider it.
"I suppose it's not entirely untrue," Beverly said. "Especially not from the perspective of history."
"Men have been responsible for war. For conquering."
"For exploration," Beverly interjected.
"Yet, for so very long, exploration meant conquering," Jean-Luc said. "Breaking and bending to their will."
"And women?" Beverly said.
"Oh—women have largely been responsible for building. Creating. Taking nothing and making something out of it," Jean-Luc said. "Isn't that what women do with nearly everything they're given? Find some way to…make it grow and improve upon what was already there."
"You're feeling very generous toward women tonight, Jean-Luc," Beverly said, returning to her work. "Either that, or—you're feeling very critical of men."
Jean-Luc laughed quietly.
"Perhaps a bit of both," he admitted. "Here I sit taking things apart, while you sit creating something wonderful and useful from that which I destroy. I suppose it simply feels symbolic in the moment."
"It's a rather grim way of looking at things," Beverly said.
"You have a more positive perspective?" Jean-Luc countered.
She thought for a moment, her fingers busy with their work, and then she smiled and hummed in the affirmative.
"The only reason you're breaking those down is that, in their current state, they aren't of any use to us at all. You're giving them a chance to fulfill a purpose, rather than simply to rot away in a box in a half-destroyed cargo hold. And you're helping me by breaking them down. You're doing the harder work, so that I can do this."
"This is hardly the more skilled labor," Jean-Luc said.
"It's valuable, regardless of skill level," Beverly said. "And it hurts my hands to pull those pieces apart, but it doesn't seem to be bothering you."
Jean-Luc reached and patted her shoulder affectionately.
"I fear you may think that I'm being serious," he said. "I am, in that I do believe there's some merit to a few of the observations that I've made, but I'm hardly upset or in need of reassurance that I am valuable to you."
"You are valuable to me, Jean-Luc."
Jean-Luc felt his stomach tighten. It had been teasing, but there was sincerity there, too. The sincerity was what made him tense up. There was so much to talk about, but it felt impossible to know where to begin.
The silence that fell between them—the painfully awkward silence—went on a beat or two too long. Beverly cleared her throat. She returned to her work with full focus—much more focus than she'd been using before. Jean-Luc felt like he could slap himself for everything, without even trying to decide, for a moment, what all that might entail.
"You have consistently amazed me since our arrival here," Jean-Luc said. "I feel as though—you are the captain, and I am barely an ensign."
"Would you prefer to give orders?" Beverly asked.
Jean-Luc glanced at her. She was looking at him with a smile on her face—that particular smile she got when she was ready to verbally spar with him a bit, if that's what he wanted. There was an air of relief around her, too. She was glad that he had shifted the conversation, giving her a chance to change the tone a little, as well.
"I am quite happy taking them, believe it or not," Jean-Luc said. "I do have to wonder, though, how you became such an…an expert at all of this."
"I'm hardly an expert at anything," Beverly said.
"Now, you're being entirely too humble," Jean-Luc said. "But—just for instance…the nets. Where did you learn the proper way to construct nets for fishing?"
"I never have," Beverly said. "At least, not exactly. I was never explicitly taught to do this. I did help with a little of the fishing on Caldos. And I fished some when I was working on Valderia for that period of time when we were helping to rebuild the colony there after an ion storm that wreaked a great deal of havoc. I've used a lot of fishing nets, and I…well…I know what they look like. I think I can recreate them, is all. I hope I can."
"And this net or that net," Jean-Luc said with a laugh. "I brought you all these nets and you looked at them to determine what would be best for what. That for fishing and this for…everything else."
"Common sense," Beverly said. "I thought about the fish in the lake. I'm sure there are all sizes, but we know the ones we've seen the most."
"The brown ones with the spots," Jean-Luc said. Beverly hummed in agreement.
"And the red ones. The green ones with the long fins."
"And those colorful ones," Jean-Luc said. "The smaller, fatter ones."
"If we're fishing," Beverly said, "then we're not going to want to catch the smallest ones that won't be worth our time to clean and eat. The fine mesh, then, is unnecessary. It's too small, as well, to let the other items we'll pick up pass through quickly and easily. We'll have to let the nets drip and drain when we pull them up."
"Too much work and time," Jean-Luc said.
"Especially if there's a better option," Beverly agreed. "So—the next pieces you brought me were those nice, large nets."
"These," Jean-Luc said, gesturing to the one that he was currently unraveling.
"The holes are too large," Beverly said. "It's possible that there are very large fish in the lake. And that lake is big enough that, if we were to explore, it's easy to believe there's a river feeding it and, perhaps, many other lakes in the nearby area. We might even find an ocean of sorts, if we look long enough. We might find very large fish…"
"But," Jean-Luc said, amused.
"But we know that all those most common fish would swim right out through those holes," Beverly said. "What good is it for us to plan and hope for big fish in our future, if we miss the medium-sized fish that are right in front of us?"
Jean-Luc smiled at her explanation.
"Hence the best choice being these smaller panels of something in between, so to speak, all joined together with a bit more of your expertise…stitching and sewing away for hours."
Beverly laughed.
"It's a lot more tying, for now," Beverly said. "But, for when it's necessary, I learned to sew with Nana, and it's served me well. Although we have almost always had regenerators and such on-hand for surgeries, there have been quite a few situations where old-fashioned stitches were all I had to offer in an emergency. Many of my colleagues learned what they had to learn for their classes, but I do think it's been beneficial to me to have a great deal of practice with sewing beyond the class requirements."
"You are certainly a wonderful doctor," Jean-Luc said. "Among other things. And I am most grateful for your skills here and now."
Beverly smiled, pleased with the simple praise.
"It just goes back to what I was saying," Jean-Luc said. "Creation and building. You have known what to do to help us get settled here—to build what we have. You were ready to build it, while I was still coming to terms with the fact that building anything was a true necessity."
"I couldn't have done any of it without your help," Beverly said.
"You and I both know that isn't true," Jean-Luc countered. "However, I will accept the praise for what you mean it to be."
"Do you believe now?" Beverly asked, after a few ticks of silence—a silence that was much less awkward than the silence before. "Have you come to terms with it?"
"With?" Jean-Luc asked.
"The fact that…building this might actually be necessary?" Beverly asked.
Jean-Luc sighed.
"I believe that Starfleet could find us," Jean-Luc said.
"Of course, they could," Beverly said. "If everything aligns just right, but we don't know what they're up against."
Jean-Luc nodded his agreement.
"I would like to imagine that…they still will find us," Jean-Luc said. "However, I do agree that, in the meantime, we're better to do everything we can to ensure our continued survival."
"Maybe…we do even a little more than just survive," Beverly said.
"Undoubtedly we will," Jean-Luc said, "with you helping me to know where to go next, and what to do each step of the way."
Beverly laughed and shook her head. She accepted his compliment as what it was, just as he'd done before, but she was also taking it lightly. Perhaps, Jean-Luc thought, that was best for both of them. After all, they needed all the lightness they could get.
"Beverly—you haven't talked much about…Wesley," Jean-Luc said.
She stopped a moment. She was immediately visibly heavier as she went back to work, the thought of Wesley weighing on her like an invisible anchor draped around her shoulders.
"I'm sorry," Jean-Luc said, and he meant it. He wished he could go back and return everything to the lightness from only moments before.
"Don't be," Beverly said. "I—suppose…I'm not sure what to say."
"He's your son," Jean-Luc said. "And…you have always been the greatest mother that I know…the most dedicated."
"All mothers…" Beverly said. She stopped, though, and didn't finish.
"You don't have to say anything," Jean-Luc said. "I only meant…"
"I miss him," Beverly said. "I feel like…a part of me was ripped out. I left a part of me there, before we went through that…whatever it was."
"Beverly, I'm terribly sorry," Jean-Luc said.
"It's OK," Beverly said. "It's OK…really. I know that Wesley was in one of the pods, and I know that they deployed in time…so…he's OK. I am sorry that…I'm sure he must miss me, but I know that he's safe with Nana. She'll take care of him."
"He is a smart boy," Jean-Luc said. "He takes after his mother…and his father. He has a loving Nana. He'll go to the Academy, just as he wishes. He'll find a life for himself. He'll be successful, in whatever endeavors he chooses."
Beverly smiled and nodded. Her eyes glittered in the firelight.
"Yes," she said, her voice soft. "He will."
Jean-Luc saw her reach and brush her cheek. It didn't take much in the way of imagination to figure out what it was that she needed to wipe from her face.
For a moment, Jean-Luc looked at his work. He wished he could hide behind it. The netting, though, had very large holes, and Beverly could see him through it, no matter how hard he tried to hide himself behind it. He nearly made himself laugh with the passing silly thought, and he was thankful for the fact that his own tired thoughts had helped to take away the lump that was forming in his throat.
"I don't want you to misunderstand me," Jean-Luc said. "I am—immensely happy that you're here, with me. However, in moments like this, I am quite sorry that you didn't take one of those escape pods and stay behind."
"I'm not," Beverly said quickly and definitively. "I made a choice, Jean-Luc, and I made it purposefully. Make no mistake of that. I don't regret it, and I'd rather…well…I'd rather not hear you suggesting that I should regret it. Don't put that burden on me."
"My apologies," Jean-Luc said. He didn't try to explain himself. It wasn't necessary. She understood what he'd meant and, to some degree, he understood her, too. All he could say was that he was sorry, and he could prove that only by not belaboring the point or repeating the offense.
"If you do feel like you want to talk about it," Jean-Luc said, "just know that…I will galdly listen, and I know how important it is to talk about your feelings."
There was a long tick of silence between them. Jean-Luc glanced in her direction. Quietly, she was watching him. He saw the light from the flames as it glittered in her eyes.
"Do you, Jean-Luc?" Beverly asked, her voice sounding much less challenging than her words might suggest she was being. "And—what about your feelings?"