AN: Here we are, another chapter here.
I hope you enjoy! If you do, please do consider leaving a comment or review to let me know.
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"I have to stop!" Beverly said. "I have to—I can't move this panel another inch, Jean-Luc."
"Alright…alright…let's put it down for a bit. Can you put it down?"
"I think I can," Beverly said. She managed to bend enough to put her corner of the panel down on the ground without dropping it. The last time she'd gotten too tired to keep going before a rest, she hadn't been able to put the panel they were moving down quite so gracefully, and she'd dropped it, breaking off the corner of it and sending them back to the ship for another panel they dragged from the storage areas.
"Excellent. Well done," Jean-Luc said, meaning it sincerely. "I think that's good enough for now, at any rate."
"If we don't get the walls up today…" Beverly said, panting from exhaustion.
"Then, they'll go up tomorrow," Jean-Luc said. He wished for something to mop the sweat from his brow, but he'd lost everything he'd been wearing except his shorts. Beverly, too, had stripped down, shedding clothing until she was bare-legged and wearing nothing but a large shirt that was far too short to be considered a dress.
At the moment, neither of them could have considered their attire sexual in any way, even if they'd been entirely naked. They were both too tired to think about it.
"Have some water, Jean-Luc," Beverly said, moving toward the water that they kept somewhat close by, even as their little house was a great deal less organized than it had been, thanks to their efforts to remodel, so to speak.
Each day there was work to do—and not just a small job or two. They could both manage to be busy, it seemed, from sun up to sun down. More often than not, they went to bed with as many things on their list of activities that needed to be done as they'd had the day before. As something came off the list, something else took its place.
Water and food were a concern for each day. They were constantly working on and perfecting their storage and their plans for the coming winter, when it came to those two commodities. They hoped that they would always be able to reach their water source—in fact, they were counting on that—but they'd added rain barrels to the storage barrels for the water they hauled. The mornings were beginning to offer something like frost on the ground, and they'd dared to taste as much of it as they could gather. It tasted like water, so they had the hope that it might mean that any winter precipitation would be water-based. If it were to snow heavily, they could still melt the snow and ice for drinking and bathing, even if they couldn't quite make it all the way to haul water.
Everywhere, around their little home, were half-done projects. They devoted hours to each thing, each day, but there were only two of them, and their bodies would only allow them to do so much.
There was a half-built structure that they were calling a greenhouse. It wasn't truly much of a greenhouse, but they could realistically finish it before too much more time passed. It would do the trick, perhaps, to help them keep from starving to death and, maybe, to get a jump on what they had for the coming year. They could, with the thaw, begin work toward a better structure.
Instead of the latrine they'd been using—a very roughly created, but functional place for necessary use—there was now an outhouse of sorts with a portable structure that offered true privacy. Some distance from that one, Jean-Luc had already dug another, and covered it with some of the broken panels, so that they could move their privacy structure, when necessary, just in case the ground stayed frozen far longer than they might predict and such a need should arise.
Now, they were working toward having the chimneys and extra space that Beverly wanted in their little home. As long as they were working on the structure of their home, they'd decided to try to make it everything they might want it to be, so that they wouldn't have to repeat this entire practice in a year or so.
Jean-Luc was a bit sobered, as he drank some water and watched Beverly do the same, that all of these projects clearly indicated what he'd been avoiding thinking about for most of their time here.
They were preparing for a future. And, more than that, they were preparing for a long future—not just the few weeks or months that Jean-Luc had wanted to imagine might be the extent of their time here.
Jean-Luc was accepting, albeit a bit slowly, that this was their future. This was where they were, and it was where they would be. Starfleet may still be looking for them, or they may have already declared them lost. Either way, for all that they knew, this was where they would spend the rest of their lives.
Now, all that was left to do was to decide how they wanted the rest of those lives to look.
Jean-Luc had only ever allowed himself to imagine a life with Beverly in the most fictional of ways. Imagining a life with Beverly by his side had been a fantasy, like any other fantasy—an indulgence, at best. There was something very different, now that they were moving beyond the realm of imagination and into reality.
Beverly was open to a relationship—a real relationship. They could call it what they wanted. They could call it dating, or marriage, a partnership, or simply living together. It mattered very little what they called it, honestly, since all of those titles were things that society had defined, in the past and, now, there was no more society left.
Whatever they called it, it boiled down to the same thing—they were going to do this life together, as more than just "friends."
And Jean-Luc had been educated, very thoroughly, in the fact that being friends was always something they should be—and should strive to be—no matter what their relationship, but it was terminology best not used to define them until other parts of their relationship had been cemented. He understood, of course, Beverly's dislike of the word, since she saw it as dismissive, and he fully admitted that he'd used it to avoid having to face other feelings that made him quite nervous without the promise of their reciprocation.
Just as "friends," was a word that Beverly had shown some dislike for, as of late, Jean-Luc was beginning to find "slowly," a frustrating part of any phrase. He was trying to lean into that frustration, though. He was trying to embrace it, just as he was working to embrace the idea that he must be less rigid than he'd been for most of his life, and face a future that was unlike any that he'd imagined before.
He had asked Beverly for them to take things "slowly," as soon as they'd decided that they wished to move toward a real relationship, and he couldn't very well blame her for listening to him.
He didn't know what he was doing. He didn't know how to be the husband—for that was the phrase that he liked best, and Beverly didn't mind keeping with any of the old societal terms that they'd known—that he wanted to be for Beverly. But he was eager to learn, and he wanted to know that he was making the decisions that he was making—and that Beverly was responding as she was—because they were thinking clearly and making deliberate choices.
Passion was important, but so was being certain that each moment shared between them was something that was truly meant.
They hadn't made love yet and, since their decision to move forward with this life, that had been Jean-Luc's choice.
He sensed it would be soon but, for the moment, he was appreciating the frequent exchanges of sensual kisses, deliberate caresses, and languid sessions of making out where they indulged in each other's bodies without allowing fevered passion to fully take over.
They were taking things "slowly" and, though the very idea of it frustrated Jean-Luc on a physical—and somewhat animalistic—level, he was also appreciating it.
Sleeping calmly in Beverly's arms, waking before her and resting his head on her chest to hear her heartbeat, and sharing lazy kisses over breakfast, where they teasingly joked about exchanging the flavors of the coffee or tea each had chosen, were far preferable to what had happened before—where his fear had driven him far away from her, at least emotionally, while his body still tingled with the lingering sensation of her touch.
They would make love again, soon, he believed—and he imagined that it would be the most wonderful experience that he had ever known with a woman.
It was worth the frustration of waiting for it, he decided, to know that he would enjoy it to the fullest. He could only hope that Beverly would feel the same—that she did feel the same—but he was doing his best not to put words in her mouth these days.
Until then, he was focusing on enjoying everything to the fullest.
For the first time, perhaps in his entire life, Jean-Luc was starting to make himself fully present in every moment of his life.
"Let's have something to eat," Jean-Luc said. "Rest a while, before we try to get back to the panels."
Beverly nodded. The exhaustion she felt was evident in every one of her movements. She was still smiling, despite it, but everything was simply much slower than it would have normally been. Jean-Luc felt the same, honestly, when he let himself think about it.
"We have the fish we cooked this morning," Beverly said. "The roots, too."
"And those red berries," Jean-Luc said, offering her a hand in case she wanted to take it while she made her way over and around the somewhat messy space where they were currently working.
"Do you like those?" She asked.
"You don't?" Jean-Luc asked with a laugh.
"I think they're terrible," she admitted. "I'd eat them to live, but as long as there's anything else, I'd rather not eat them."
Jean-Luc laughed.
"There's plenty, for now, that you can choose from," he said. "I'll eat the berries."
"Such a gentleman," Beverly teased.
Jean-Luc laughed again. He felt relaxed by the teasing. The teasing was good. It meant that they were comfortable. It meant that the anxiety that had been practically choking him, lately, was simply dissipating and leaving behind nothing but the easy comradery they'd known before—this time with room for more.
"I do try to be," he said. "Even if it means eating the red berries you don't care for. You do eat those…did we ever decide what to call the little spicy root balls?"
Beverly laughed.
"Spicy root balls is a terrible name," she said. "That makes them a great deal less appetizing."
"Whatever you want to call them," Jean-Luc said, joining her as they served up some of the food that they did have onto plates. "You eat those. I don't care for them. The texture is…a bit too unusual, and the taste lingers for an uncomfortable amount of time."
"You didn't tell me that you didn't like them," Beverly said.
"And you have only just mentioned that you don't care for the red berries," Jean-Luc countered. "Here—sit."
She did sit beside him. She leaned against him, their shoulders touching. A few minutes earlier, neither of them might have been able to tolerate that touch, given that they were both hot and sweaty from the labor they'd been doing, but they were cooling down now, a bit.
"Jean-Luc…I'm afraid I'm not going to be able to move those panels anymore today," Beverly said. "Every muscle in my body feels like cooked spaghetti."
"Cooked spaghetti wouldn't be too bad right now," Jean-Luc mused. "I know what you mean, though. Perhaps, we ought to leave it until tomorrow. We can go on a walk, if you want. Maybe—explore a little farther this afternoon. We'll sleep well tonight, and tomorrow we'll finish putting the panels into place. They're all here, now, at any rate, and we shouldn't have to carry any more from the ship."
"If I don't break any more," Beverly said.
"I've dropped a few, myself," Jean-Luc said. "Sometimes, they simply land wrong. At least we have found a great many other uses for the broken ones."
"If we leave the panels down for the night, Jean-Luc, we'll be cold all night," Beverly said.
"We'll drape something over the opening to our room," Jean-Luc said. "It's not that large. The chimney and fireplace are installed and functional. And for as humorous as it feels to say it now, when we've both been sweating from exertion since the sun came up and it's still quite warm—I doubt we'll freeze."
Beverly laughed at him and nodded. She didn't offer any spoken response, because she was chewing her way through a rather large bite of the fish that she'd served herself, but there was really no need for words. She was accepting Jean-Luc's proposal. They would make their space functional again—just long enough to get the rest needed to finish the job they'd started. Then, they'd take some baskets or bags and go exploring a bit more, branching out a little each time that they did, in hopes to see what there was to see nearby. Their plan was that, in the spring, when they were mostly settled and had accomplished most of their big jobs that were necessary for their continued survival, they could venture even farther from their home on excursions and, perhaps, camp in new locations.
For now, though, they would only go as far as they could while still being sure to make it back to their shelter by nightfall.
"Besides, Beverly—if it should get intolerably cold, you have my word that I will dedicate all of my time and energy to keeping you warm."
Jean-Luc laughed at his joke. He expected her to laugh, too, at his teasing. The cold was unpleasant, but not unbearable yet.
She did smile, but she also looked at him with an expression that piqued something within him. She raised an eyebrow.
"Do you promise, Jean-Luc?" She asked.
Jean-Luc felt a rush of emotion. It was, he was sure, part hope and part anxiety. No matter its composition, the feeling was a welcomed one, even though it increased the heat in Jean-Luc's body, again.
He held her eyes, to see if she might falter, in some way, or show signs of changing her mind or even doubting her choice when he nodded his head and then spoke. She didn't.
"All you need to do, Beverly, is…say the word," Jean-Luc said. "And you have my word that I will…serve you in whatever way I can. Whatever way pleases you."
Her cheeks blushed pink, but her gaze didn't falter.
"That's a pretty lofty promise, Jean-Luc," she said.
"And one that I mean, sincerely."
