AN: Here we are, another chapter to this one.

I hope you enjoy! If you do, please do consider leaving a comment or review to let me know!

111

"Is that what you think, then?" Jean-Luc asked. "That I am…married to my guilt?"

Beverly laughed to herself.

"If not married to it, Jean-Luc—at least it's been a long-term bed partner," Beverly said. "Does it keep you very warm at night?"

He had stopped fussing with his stitches. He'd let his work drop to his lap, as had Beverly. He was looking at her, now, out of the side of his eye. Beverly drew in a breath, held his eyes, and set her determination.

"That's hardly…"

"Jean-Luc, I'm tired," Beverly said. "I'm tired of…excuses. I'm tired of redirection. I'm not a child."

"I hardly thought you were," Jean-Luc said.

Beverly sighed and willed herself to release some of her frustration.

"Your guilt may be real, but it's also an excuse," Beverly said. "It's something to hide behind, Jean-Luc. Something to keep the rest of the world outside—beyond the barrier that you're determined to keep between you and the world. You can't have this…and you can't have that…and here are Jean-Luc's tried and true excuses as to why he can't have all these things."

He sat and stared at her for a long moment. It was too long, and she felt her irritation growing. She tried to swallow it down, but she was realizing that it just wouldn't stay down.

"And that's your other defense," Beverly said, before he could respond—not that she really believed that he intended to respond. "You're used to having something there. Your wall. Your excuse. Something always keeps you safe and protected—locked away. Something that makes you untouchable. And, then, if that isn't enough? You're quiet, Jean-Luc. You refuse to address anything that you don't know how to address perfectly. If you're quiet, the problem will eventually go away. You'll never have to be uncomfortable. You'll never have to risk making a mistake or saying something wrong. There can be no consequences for something that's never said—especially if you choose not to face them. And if that's not enough? You let your pips protect you. As Captain Jean-Luc Picard, you can dismiss anyone who displeases you. You can end any conversation with a word."

Jean-Luc sat there, again, for a long moment, in silence. His expression was stoney—the kind of practiced composure that served him well as a captain. He wanted nobody to be entirely sure what he was thinking, and he'd almost perfected the art of keeping his emotions entirely hidden behind a still and expressionless countenance.

It was just another layer of protection that he'd created, honed, and tried to perfect.

Beverly stopped herself before she pointed that out, as well, purposefully biting her tongue.

She hadn't meant to say everything that she'd said. At the very least, she hadn't meant to say it all at once and with the sharpness that she knew had invaded her tone. She hadn't mean to let her anger and frustration out with her words. She hadn't meant to practically overwhelm him with every thought that she'd been turning over, like worry stones, for some time.

She had meant what she'd said, without a doubt, but she hadn't meant to say it exactly as she had.

"Please—do not misinterpret my current silence for an attempt to hide, Beverly," Jean-Luc said finally, his voice showing no signs of anger. "I simply wish to…allow you time to say what you have to say, without feeling that I have interrupted you or caused you to lose track of your thoughts."

Beverly drew in a breath and let it out, surprised that she felt, actually, a good deal more relaxed and relieved than she'd felt in some time. She hadn't even realized, honestly, how much frustration she'd been carrying around until this moment.

"I'm sorry, Jean-Luc, for…saying all of that at once. It was, no doubt, overwhelming."

He laughed quietly.

"But—you are not sorry, at all, for anything you said," Jean-Luc said.

"No," Beverly said. "I'm not."

"Nor should you be," Jean-Luc said. "You are quite right, Beverly. I am…and I have been…a coward."

"No," Beverly said, quickly, interrupting any possible elaboration of his point. "No—don't, Jean-Luc," she said, holding her hand up. "Don't. You are not a coward. That's another excuse. If you say you're a coward, then it's an excuse…a reason not to do something. You and I both know that you're not a coward. If you were a coward, you wouldn't be Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Starship Enterprise. You wouldn't be who you are. You're no coward."

He laughed again, quietly.

"I'm no longer Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Starship Enterprise," Jean-Luc said. "I am, at best, Jean-Luc Picard. Mostly, I am simply Jean-Luc—for all that names even matter here. And the Enterprise is a steadily decaying structure, crashed in a field, that serves as storage for the few materials that we might hope to harvest from her someday. And—I am a coward, Beverly. I may be able to face Klingons…or Romulans…or any other number of individuals or groups set on destruction or other vile acts. But this? This terrifies very much, Beverly. As I think you know, since you've identified my…my very obvious patterns, clearly…of running and hiding, like the coward I am."

Beverly felt herself relaxing. She sighed.

"What are you afraid of?" She asked.

"That I am no longer Captain Jean-Luc Picard," Jean-Luc said. "That—stripped of the achievements that I have worked so hard for, and everything to which I have dedicated my life…I am simply laid bare, Beverly. A man, and nothing more. And, honestly, I'm not certain that…I'm a very good man, without all the garlands and the pomp and circumstance of my Starfleet career."

"Jean-Luc…" Beverly said.

"I am not offering that as an excuse," Jean-Luc said, sincerely. "I am merely…being honest. Something rather new for me, I think you might say." He laughed quietly and shook his head. "You must be patient with me. I'm still learning how to do this, after all."

"Patience is something I can give," Beverly said, thankful for the burst of amusement that the thought brought to her.

"I've asked you for too much of it, as it is," Jean-Luc said.

"I don't mind exercising patience if something eventually comes of it," Beverly said. "So—you're not a captain. I'm not a chief medical officer. You're wrong about not being a good man. You're a wonderful man, Jean-Luc. You always have been. Maybe you just—have to figure out who you are when you're not using a role to define you. I can tell you, though, that you were also right about one thing, Jean-Luc, and that's that…this place? The life we have here? It doesn't matter who we were or what we accomplished. All that really matters is what we have now, and what…well…what the future will bring."

"When I have looked into the future, throughout my life…I have only dared to dream about my professional goals," Jean-Luc said. "To become a captain and, if we're being honest, to remain one. I didn't want to end up chained to a desk. I never wanted the adventure to end."

"There are no desks here, Jean-Luc. And—there's plenty of unexplored and uncharted territory. We haven't even made it beyond the woods, and we don't even know what's downstream of our pond."

"There are many adventures still to be had," Jean-Luc said.

Beverly laughed to herself.

"Probably—even more than you can imagine," she said.

"Beverly…" Jean-Luc said.

Beverly thought that, for a moment, he looked as though he wasn't feeling entirely well. Of course, she also recognized that this—everything she'd had to say to him, all of which he must still be truly digesting, and all the honesty that he'd offered…which was a great deal for Jean-Luc—was quite a lot for Jean-Luc to handle at once.

"Yes, Jean-Luc?" Beverly responded, when he paused and made it clear that he required some response from her before he continued.

"I've never considered myself a man who needed…a legacy," Jean-Luc said.

"I think I've heard you say something of that nature, before," Beverly said, wanting to give him just enough to keep him moving forward, instead of allowing room for retreat.

"A Starfleet captain doesn't have time for all the things that most men dream of having: a home, a wife, a family…"

"Excuses, Jean-Luc," Beverly said, attempting to stop him from offering her more excuses as something of a learned habit.

"Where would we build a home?" Jean-Luc asked. "Gone for months—even years—at a time, never knowing if you may not return."

"That's Starfleet," Beverly said. "And many of the ships have space to make a life—a temporary home. It isn't impossible, Jean-Luc, so don't pretend that it is, just to strengthen your defense."

"Fair enough," Jean-Luc said. "Perhaps—there's more to the truth than simply the complications created by being a captain…"

"Now, we may be moving toward the heart of it," Beverly offered.

"The truth of it is…by the time you started to ask me questions about marrying and settling down—by the time anyone was really concerned with it—my best friend had…married the woman of my dreams," Jean-Luc said. He stared at Beverly, a bit intensely, and she simply held his eyes in response.

"I'm giving you room, Jean-Luc," she said, finally. "Time. Space. To say what you need to say without me interrupting you."

He smiled at her using his own sentiment against him. She saw him draw in a deep breath. She saw him consider his stitches for a moment, and she gave him space. She felt something different in the air around them.

He wasn't going to run. Maybe, he sensed that, if he ran this time, she would let him go for good.

After a long moment, he looked back at her.

"It felt like there was no reason to look for someone else," Jean-Luc said. "Sure—there were…affairs. Flings. But nothing felt good. Nothing felt right. They were easy to let go of because they never meant anything at all. And, then, every time someone asked why I didn't hold on more tightly…"

"You were there with an excuse," Beverly offered, when Jean-Luc fell off. He nodded.

"You were not entirely wrong about my grief," Jean-Luc said. "It has nearly eaten me alive at times. Nights, when I couldn't sleep…it was there. It kept me company. A loyal bedfellow, as you might say."

"And is that…how you want to spend the rest of your nights?" Beverly asked.

"Not at all," Jean-Luc said. "I always thought—you must blame me."

"I don't," Beverly said.

"I know," Jean-Luc said. "And then…I would think that…maybe you should."

"Because you blame yourself," Beverly said. He nodded. "But…Jean-Luc, that's your feeling, not mine."

"I am aware," Jean-Luc said.

Another silence fell between them. This one was palpable. Beverly might have believed she could touch it, take it in her hands, and mold it into something. She waited it out, focusing on keeping her own breathing normal and calm, and not letting it be influenced by the feeling in the air around her.

"I have loved you, Beverly, since…I can hardly remember," Jean-Luc said, finally.

For all her determination to stay entirely calm, her heart began to beat rapidly in her chest.

"I love you, too, Jean-Luc. Surely, you had to have known that. And, if you didn't…you do now."

Jean-Luc hummed and nodded.

"And, now, I am being honest and telling you that I love you," he said. "Not that I doubt that you knew how I felt about you."

"I do like hearing it," Beverly said.

"I have…often feared how you might react," Jean-Luc said. "But, more than fearing your rejection—which would crush me, no doubt, and simply make absolutely true my declaration that I wasn't a man who would ever marry—I feared what would happen if you reciprocated my feelings. I feared the future that would come from that."

"Why?" Beverly asked. "I don't understand. If I love you, and you love me…what is there to fear?"

"Everything," Jean-Luc said. "More than there ever had been before. Because, losing you would be more painful than never having you at all. You see…I never could agree entirely with Shakespeare's sentiment about loving and losing being better than never loving."

"But if you love me, and we never acted on it," Beverly said, letting the rest of the statement hang.

"Yes, well…I haven't always done an excellent job of thinking things through," Jean-Luc said. "More than all that, however…I have feared that…"

"Yes?" Beverly pressed, when Jean-Luc fell off.

"I am afraid that—I don't know how to be a husband, Beverly," Jean-Luc said. "I hardly know how to be a lover beyond the moment of passion. I don't know how to be the man that I would want to be for you."

Beverly smiled at him. She moved toward him. He tensed, and she pulled back a second. When she saw him relax, she moved toward him once more. This time, he met her for a kiss that began quite timidly, but quickly became much more passionate.

She let him take her in his arms to deepen the kiss, and she savored it, prolonging it for a while as they simply enjoyed sharing the moment with each other.

When it broke, she stroked his cheek.

"You may not know everything that you need to know, or even that you want to know," Beverly said. "But—we have a lot of time, Jean-Luc…if you want to learn."

"There is little that I want more," he said. "I want to do…whatever I can. Whatever is needed…to be the man that you deserve."

"You are already that," Beverly said.

"Then—to be the man that I feel that you deserve," he offered.

She smiled at him.

"Then, that's a start," Beverly said. "And—we can work on the rest. Together, Jean-Luc."