Complications

by

Mariel

Summary: A woman from Jean Luc's past changes his present and works on his future - while Beverly watches. When they all meet on DS9, decisions must be made.

The Srn'n - my name for those creatures that infected the admiralty during the first season. And introducing Therese...

Chapter 1

Jean Luc Picard and his Chief Medical Officer stood shoulder to shoulder in Transporter Room Two, watching information scroll across a padd the doctor held in her hand. The two had just finished greeting the delegates the Enterprise was transporting to Denaria for the Beta Quadrant Summit, and now the tall, slender doctor was taking advantage of having the captain's undivided attention to lodge her protest in regards to the Federation's new policy on medical treatment of non-Federation aliens.

"Look at how they've phrased that, Jean Luc!" the doctor exclaimed angrily, her blue eyes flashing, "It's an ethical disaster. If we..."

A low, femine voice interrupted her.

"Jean Luc?"

The voice tickled Captain Picard's memory. Turning, he saw the woman who accompanied the voice step down from the transporter pad. Short, nearly petite, and with raven hair swept away from a delicately boned face, her large, dark eyes shone warmly at him.

Beverly watched the captain's chiseled features break into one of his rare, whole-hearted smiles.

"Therese!" he exclaimed. Quickly covering the distance between them, he put his arms around the newcomer's small waist. The woman he called Therese laughed, and threw her arms up over his broad shoulders and around his neck, drawing him close.

"God, it's good to see you, cherie!" she said, standing on tiptoe and closing her eyes as she hugged him.

Beverly Crusher stood silently and watched closely as the couple finally eased their grip on one another enough to kiss, as the French were still inclined to, on each side of the other's mouth. She thought the kisses lasted a little longer than custom dictated, but could not be sure.

Slowly, Picard and the woman released one another. Jean Luc began their conversation with an obvious question: "What *are* you doing here?"

"Guess," she said, her dark eyes dancing.

"Well,..." he drawled, drawn into their old, familiar ritual, "...you haven't come to sweep me off my feet..."

She raised an elegant eyebrow. "Captain! I believe we have established that I did *that* some time ago..."

"A very long time ago," Picard agreed solemnly, his hazel eyes twinkling. "And," he continued, pretending to examine the space behind her for a body, "I don't see that you've brought someone you want me to approve..."

The woman snorted. "I have a name for you in that regard: Mike Hallingway!" She shook her head. "He may have been a fine pilot, but he made one hell of a poor husband, and you know it! My opinion of your judgement took a serious blow after that marriage, I can tell you, mon ami!"

Picard chuckled and decided to end their ritual before things went *too* far. Though it varied in content and length, depending upon their mood and location, it always ended with the same benediction. Holding her eyes with his, he said, "Then you are obviously here for no good reason at all."

They both smiled, lost, for a heartbeat, in the enjoyment of seeing one another again.

A couple of crewmen walked by, carrying various items beamed up from the planet. When Picard glanced up at them, Therese saw his face shutter closed. When he spoke next, his manner, though still warm, was a little more brisk. Taking a small step backwards, he said, "My guess is that you're either here as part of the new crew rotation or, more likely since your name isn't on our new crew roster, you're a member of the delegation we're taking to Denaria."

As a silent observer, Doctor Crusher had quickly ascertained she wasn't comfortable with these two together. Unconsciously, she sent a little prayer winging off that the woman be part of the delegation, and only here a short time.

Therese shook her head. "I am filling in as your new chemical sciences engineer!" She smiled up at the captain, unaware of Beverly's little prayer as it ran into turbulance and crashed on the transporter room floor.

Jean Luc's eyebrows rose. "Nonsense! I've reviewed the roster. I would have noticed your name."

"Oh? You do not have a 'Lieutenant T. Winthrop' down as your temporary chief chemical sciences engineer, in charge of the Mytherin project?"

"*You're* T. Winthrop?" he paused to think, then said, almost to himself, "Heavens, I'd forgotten his name...." Recalling himself, there was a note of incredulity in his voice when, sweeping a hand over his bald pate, he asked, "You actually married him?"

Therese smiled and shrugged. Picard noticed a slight tightening of her features, but her words were light as she replied, "Of course! You know very well I did; you were sent an invitation to the wedding, if you remember." She looked away, then turned to look at him squarely. "We are...apart now, but I grew accustomed the sound of 'Winthrop', so I use it."

Jean Luc shook his head slowly. "I honestly forgot his name. How many does that make now?"

Still an unnoticed onlooker, Beverly's eyes widened in surprise. The captain was known for his strongly held beliefs about privacy; he might ask that question of a good friend, certainly, but never in public.

Therese Winthrop did not seem to think so; nor did she seem to mind the forthright question. "Four and counting," she said lightly.

As they moved away from the transporter pad, Picard smiled and commented, "So you're still looking for the right man, then." He paused, then added teasingly, "Or is it just that you can't find a right man who can keep up *and* put up with you?"

She looked up at him fondly and put a slender hand on his arm. "Oh, I found him fifty years ago, cherie. You are simply too difficult to catch up with and pin down."

Shocked, the doctor watched for Jean Luc's embarrassed reaction to this sort of blatant flirtation. To her surprise, he threw back his head, and laughed.

There was a small pause as the two friends smiled at one another. Patting the hand Therese had slipped around his arm as they walked, Jean Luc's deep voice rumbled gently as he made the amused rejoiner, "Well, you're here, so either I've slowed down or you've gotten a little faster."

"Ah, so all I have left is the pinning down, yes?" the woman asked, smiling broadly.

"Therese," he chuckled, giving up the battle of words, "You're incorrigible!"

The sounds of another group of people being transported onto the _Enterprise_ broke the moment. Therese pretended not to notice the captain's face again become the stern mask that had confronted her in his communiques over the last few years. Instead, she moved aside to allow the newcomers clear access to the exit doors, and said, "Incorrigible? In that case, and since you are the captain of this boat, I request that you show me to my quarters, sir. *And* you may help me with the things I had beamed up with me as well!"

Picard looked at the half-dozen bags an ensign had placed nearby. "I could," he said, noncommitally.

Therese shot him a sharp look, relaxed when she saw the humour behind his impassive facade, and felt a warm glow of victory, though for what reason, she could not yet say.

Beverly, deciding she had hung about unnoticed long enough, turned towards the exit. Jean Luc was obviously having trouble focusing on anything but the new arrival. She could continue with her concerns about the change in medical policy later.

She would make it her business to find out more about *her* from him later, too.

The movement of the doctor's blue lab coat caught Picard's attention. "Oh, Beverly, I'm sorry." Taking Therese by the elbow, he led her over to the red-haired doctor. "Therese, I want you to meet Doctor Beverly Crusher, our Chief Medical Officer. Beverly, this is a very dear friend of mine: Lieutenant Therese..." he paused almost imperceptably, as though the name still surprised him, then continued, "...Winthrop, our new chemical sciences engineer. She's here to oversee the Mytherin project."

Warm brown eyes met cool blue ones.

//She's older than she first appears to be,//was Beverly's first thought, as she noticed the fine webbing of lines around the other woman's eyes and the deeper smile lines around her mouth.

Not insensitive to the doctor's thoughts, Therese extended her hand and smiled warmly as she looked up at her and said, "Hello, Doctor Crusher. It is so nice to finally meet you." Glancing very briefly at Jean Luc, she added in her gently accented voice, "Jean Luc has mentioned you many, many times over the years. I almost feel as though I know you."

Beverly took the small, slender hand offered her and dredged up a smile. "It's nice to meet you, too," she said, her glance travelling from Therese to Jean Luc. Returning her gaze to Therese, she asked, "You've known each other a long time?"

Therese nodded, eyes dancing as she glanced over at Jean Luc. "Forever."

There was an odd little pause, which the Captain broke by casually informing Therese, "Doctor Crusher will require your medical records updated. She'll want you in for a physical within forty-eight hours of our departure." He looked at Beverly with warmth as he warned, "She's very strict about these things, so pay heed."

Therese watched as Beverly returned his smile - and noticed the warmth of said smile cool somewhat as the doctor turned it towards herself.

"Sounds fine to me," Therese said, taking note of both their shared look and Beverly's coolness. "Should I call your office for an appointment, or just arrive at your door?"

"An appointment would be preferable."

"Then I will make one as soon as I'm settled in."

Looking at Jean Luc, Therese said, "Well, let us get me moved in, cherie. I do not want to keep the doctor waiting."

Beverly smiled, inclined her head as a farewell, and began to leave. Before the doors closed behind her, Picard said, "I'll see you at the senior staff meeting, doctor. We'll discuss the rest of your concerns then."

Beverly nodded, her mind on other things besides the meeting... things like who the hell this woman was, why she seemed on such familiar terms with Jean Luc, and why, although Jean Luc had obviously spoken to Therese about herself, he had never, ever mentioned this woman to her.

Chapter 2

Jean Luc let Therese enter her new quarters first. Walking inside, she placed the bag she carried on the floor, and then, not bothering to even glance at what would be her home for the next several months, she turned and waited.

"Well," she said when the doors slid behind her friend, "What do you think? Truly. Do you mind, cherie?"

Picard shook his head, his features relaxing. "Not at all." Opening his arms, he said, "Come here."

A tension she had not even known was there disappeared as she walked into his embrace.

"It *is* good to see you after so long. I hadn't realised how long it had been until I saw you standing there." Picard sighed, then stepped back from her. She could see his posture stiffen, his demeanor become more remote when he asked, "Now if you could be so kind as to tell me what you are up to? Why didn't you tell me you were coming onboard?"

"I wanted to give you a little surprise."

"Some surprise. Wrangling a position on the _Enterprise_ is more than just a 'little surprise', Therese."

"True, it does take a little planning," she replied, wryly thinking of the arms she had twisted, the favours she had called in, and the out-and-out *begging* she had had to do in order to get the position that had so fortuitously opened, just as she had decided the _Enterprise_ and Jean Luc would be her next destination.

When it became obvious from his silence that he was expecting more of an answer than that, she admitted reluctantly, "And there were other considerations, perhaps."

"And those were?"

She looked at him, her eyes unreadable. Their friendship was an old one, and one that they had both learned to depend upon. At least, that was the way it had been. Now, she felt doubts creep in. At first glance, he *looked* just like the man she had known all her life. But when she looked closer, there were differences that disturbed her. It had been years, after all, since they had had any real contact -since he had taken over the _Enterprise_, as a matter of fact. She looked at the man standing in front of her and wondered how much of the Jean Luc she had known was really still there.

Perhaps her being here would not help either of them. She sighed, wondering if she were just crazy...and pondered what to tell him now, and what to wait until later to say.

Turning away from him, she walked across the living area to the viewport. The planet they orbited hung in dark velvet space, its tourquoise oceans and white clouds made brilliant by the reflection of that system's sun. One part of her mind imagined that she could see the imperceptable movement of air-borne water vapour slowly twist and curl along the ill-defined coastlines below. She wondered with detachment if it were raining that very moment on the spot where she looked.

The other part of her mind dwelt on the more immediate. How well defined *were* her reasons for being here? Suddenly, she felt unsure. In retrospect, her mad rush to get onboard the _Enterprise_ was little more than a rash plan borne of desperate unhappiness, sired by a deep need to be near someone who could make her feel cared for. All the other excuses were flown from her mind, scattered by the terrible urge to burst into tears and tell him all, right then and there. Unaware that it would have surprised those he had worked with for so many years, she knew that he would know just what to do. The knowledge tempted her, but still she struggled for self control, for both herself and, from what she had seen over the past few years, for Jean Luc, who, she believed, was in need of comforting himself.

Watching her slender form outlined against the planet, Jean Luc waited patiently, knowing from long experience she was using this time to gather her thoughts. She had her own sense of timing, and her own sense of the proper order of things. Rushing her had never worked, and, since he had long ago learned to appreciate what he waited for from her, there was no sense of urgency on his part as he waited for her to speak.

Turning away from the window finally, she took a deep breath. Letting it out in a quiet little rush, she spread her arms out from her body a little and said, "Perhaps for now, we should just say I wanted this posting because of the research you are conducting here, yes? You know I have been working on Mytherin hypotheses for over a decade, and it *is* my expertise in that area that ultimately landed me this postition." She smiled and then added self-mockingly, "Despite the admirable job I did of grovelling during the selection process!"

Pausing as though to search for words, she made a little, helpless gesture with her hands and admitted, "To be honest, seeing you again after so long feels rather anti-climatic somehow. We have changed so much, cherie..."

Change. Picard knew that was the crux of the matter for her. He would never know what had truly brought her here until they settled this vague feeling of uncertainty they felt between each other. So far as he could see, and except for the sadness he had caught fleeting glimpses of, she was the same woman he had always known. He, on the other hand...He sighed inwardly. His circumstances were much changed, his position weightier, his responsibilities heavier. And the things he had experienced since taking over the _Enterprise_ as her captain...

He stood only a few meters away from her, but suddenly felt as though they were separated by a terrible chasm. It frightened him, and he strove to bridge it before it could widen further. "Therese, parts of us all change with time, but the important, defining aspects of ourselves, they stay the same."

She nodded, while a silence grew and something shifted between them, becoming warm, and waiting, and familiar. She had forgotten how patient he was, how willing to focus on the immediate with a concentration that lulled one into confidences.

Taking a deep breath, she made a decision and took a leap of faith. "What would you say if I said that I have come because I am lonely and need a friend to make me laugh and forget silly, depressing things that seem to be getting the better of me? What if I said I just need to be around someone very patient, and someone who loves me very much?"

Picard frowned. He knew this had a lot to do with Winthrop, wherever the blasted man was; but he also recognised that worried look in her eye when she looked at him. Walking over to her, he lifted her chin up until she was forced to look at him. He knew there were sorrows in her life she had not told him of, things that she would reveal to him in her own time. He knew, too, that she was concerned about changes in him -he knew himself that not all the changes were necessarily for the better. Speaking a truth he would never have spoken to another, he said in a low voice, "There are times I would say that sounds more like me than you, cherie."

She shook her head and said softly, "Perhaps we find ourselves, again, two of a kind." Forcing her tone to lighten, she continued, "And, if you are sometimes lonely and in need of a friend who is patient and loves you, who better than I to be here?"

"Who better, indeed," he said gently. Straightening a little, he gathered himself together. He felt uncomfortable at this turn of conversation, and was already regretting his admission of weakness. Besides, he was feeling an increasing concern for her and her reasons for being here. He knew himself better able to cope with whatever she needed of him than coping with his own needs.

Backing away from his admission, he said, "I appreciate your concern, Therese, but I don't know that you really need to be here for my sake. I do all right, you know."

The loneliness in his voice caught at her heart.

She watched as he moved to the window, and, as she had earlier, avoid speech by appearing to concentrate on the planet below. She knew he was not happy anymore, and was appalled that he did not seem to care. Worse still, he did not appear to expect the situation to change. Instead, so far as she could tell from the communications they had had of late, he had withdrawn, taking himself away from anything that might put him in danger of emotional involvement.

"You do 'all right,'" she repeated finally, fueling an anger purposely to drive home her message. "That is how you think you are doing? 'All right?' *I* disagree. You have not been doing 'all right' for years, Jean Luc! You have not been completely yourself since you took on the captaincy of this damned ship." She allowed her voice to soften only a little when she added, "I want to understand why, mon ami."

Jean Luc felt surprise at her quick change of tone and topic -and had no desire whatsoever to further this conversation. He had a ship to run, after all, and this sudden attack threw him.

"The 'why' is fairly obvious," Jean Luc responded abruptly, his tone hard and a little louder. The mood swung between them precariously as he explained impatiently, "I think you're aware of all that has happened in the past eight years or so; some of the things have been pretty catastrophic. It's only natural that I should be somewhat changed."

She responded to his words the only way she knew how. Walking over to where he stood, she put her arms around him silently, placing her head on his shoulder.

He sighed and hugged her back, his sharp retort to her comment already a regrettable thing of the past. She had always known what to do in order to take the tenseness out of a situation when they were on the verge of arguing. Holding her, he felt old emotions stir, felt a familiar tingle of attraction. It felt very good to hold and be held....

When she looked up at him with that old familiar look in her eye, memories flooded in of the hours thay had spent together, their friendship growing in closeness, and its surviving the physical intimacy that had eventually resulted.

Therese cleared her throat, surprised at how drawn to him she still was. It was tempting to reach up and touch her lips to his, tempting to test the waters to see if the old flames were still hidden away as embers somewhere. She mentally shook herself, and said aloud, "Well! I think if we are not careful, cherie, your crew may begin to think that an hour is a long time for you to take in order to acquaint me with the two rooms of my quarters!"

They drew away from each other, both pleasantly surprised at how their bodies had reacted to being close again -and both somewhat discomforted by that very same thing.

He knew she was hurting from the end of her relationship to Winthrop -however that had come about- even though she had yet to speak of it; she knew who he loved and the sad disappointment involved in that. They had led very different lives these past years, their relationships with others weaving new patterns that they had still to sort out; yes, they both thought silently, a distance was wiser.

"I'm very happy you're here," he said again.

"Oui, but I am thinking that if you should get too happy, I can stir up a little trouble, yes? Give you, perhaps, a few problem to consider?" she asked, her french accent becoming more pronounced with her teasing.

He nodded and asked dryly, "Like how I'm going to get to my staff meeting before they send security looking for me?"

She grinned and nodded, happy to feel this closeness and to see him smile. "Exactly. So go, cherie," she said, pushing him towards the door.

"Dinner in Ten Forward at 19:00?" he asked before the doors closed behind him, "...I'll introduce you to some of my senior staff. You'll be working with a few of them. I'll drop by to get you."

"Sounds fine, ami, now GO!" she admonished with a smile.

He went, smiling as he left, and not caring, at least for a while, who saw that smile.

Chapter 3

When Picard walked through the doorway of the Observation Lounge, his face was set as usual. Everyone was already in their place, so all eyes watched as he strode to his chair at the head of the table.

Beverly watched the captain as he made his way around the room and saw nothing to disturb her, though, to be honest, she was not really looking. She was still curious about Therese, and could admit she was upset in a way she could not quite define because Jean Luc had kept the woman a secret. If someone had asked if she felt a sense of forboding, however, she would have asked, with a shrug of her slender shoulders, "Why should I?"

Of the senior staff there, only Deanna detected any change in their captain from the last time they had met together. Deanna cocked her head to one side and looked at him curiously. There was a new, underlying current to the thin stream of emotion the captain allowed through his defences. She could not tell what, but something was changed. She paused, then questioned her conclusion. Reasoning herself around the captain's psyche, she changed her mind. //That's it,// she thought, //It's always been there, but it's stronger now. Why?// And what, exactly *was* it that she detected?

She opened herself to him, trying to get a better handle on what she was sensing.

As though realising what she was doing, the captain glanced at her before sitting, then looked away. For one second, he allowed the full gamut of his emotions to wash over her: the joy of seeing Therese again, the worry about her and what he did not know about her reasons for coming here, his concern over why she was worried about him, the memories of their love and their friendship...Then he immediately put the walls he had learned so skillfully to erect against her back into place. He knew she was unlikely to sort it out; let her stew with it for a while. This was the first time in a long time that he had allowed her in, he thought with a certain amount of satisfaction, so it would keep her busy for a while.

Deanna blinked as the Captain's indistinct thoughts and emotions roiled over her, and then blinked again as they were almost immediately shut off. She looked at him, her usually warm, liquid dark eyes sharp, and not a little angry.

Sitting back, she folded her arms. No one suspected that he played these games with her, and she was thankful he rarely did. She disliked it when he did this, knowing it was, in part, a subtle thumbing of his nose at her, a way of letting her know he was in control. Knowing that he liked her as a person and valued her as a member of his crew was important to her, but his distaste for allowing anything of himself to be revealed made her feel as though she were failing in her job somehow.

But then, just to show his control, he would purposely throw this sort of emotional soup her way, purposely to make things more confusing...which, she knew, was telling in itself.

//You've done that just to muddy the waters, haven't you?// she thought, and wondered what was going on. His mind meld with Sarek had taught him too much in the line of self control. Self control, she thought, was not something he needed more of.

It took only a few seconds for all this to happen, and it went unnoticed by the rest of the crew. From his position at the head of the table, Picard looked around at the faces there, his expression betraying nothing. "I believe that the first item on our agenda," he began....

...The meeting drew to a close. Rising, he said, "I was fortunate enough to be in the transporter room when Lieutenant Winthrop, the new chemical sciences engineer filling in until we reach Earth, was beamed on board. Although you'll all meet her once her experiments have proceeded far enough for her to assume responsibilities at these staff meetings, I thought you might like to meet her beforehand. I've invited her to dinner in Ten Forward. If any of you are able to share dinner with us, I'd be pleased to see you join us, around 19:00."

He rose and left the room. Beverly watched him leave, feeling exasperation at the fact he had forgotten his promise to continue their interrupted discussion in the transporter room.

The exasperation was then followed by a whisper of trepidation at the dinner invitation and what it might mean.

The remaining crew rose from their chairs, but no one followed Picard out the doorway. Instead, they drew together, instinctively gathering around the chair he had just vacated, to discuss this new development.

"Well! That's unusual," LaForge said, breaking the silence.

"What is, Geordi?" asked Data turning to the dark-skinned, visored Chief Engineer.

"The captain initiating a social occasion."

Beverly looked at the empty chair and offered her insight. "He knows her."

Everyone turned to her with interest.

"Who?" Riker asked.

"The new chemical sciences engineer. I was there when she transported on the ship. They seem to be old friends." Her tone was even and controlled, betraying nothing.

Deanna frowned slightly. Beverly had feelings concerning this friendship that she was not discussing. There was a faint aura of jealously and resentment shadowing her words when she spoke, but no truly strong reaction to the presence of the new woman.

"Old friends?" Riker asked, eager to know the intimate details, and not even considering how this might affect the CMO. "What *kind* of 'old friends'?"

Deanna felt a sharp stab of doubt from Beverly and glanced at her friend in surprise before speaking. "I think we had best determine that for ourselves, tonight," she interrupted, putting an end to their speculations. Beverly was showing none of the emotions she was feeling, but Deanna could tell the doctor was dealing with a growing sense of unease. Riker's comment concerning what *kind* of 'old friend' had made an impact.

Glancing away toward the door the captain had just exited through, Deanna guessed that the newcomer had a lot to do with the emotional turmoil the captain had thrown her way earlier. Looking over at her red-headed friend, she began to believe that perhaps there were going to be interesting times ahead.

Obviously looking forward to the evening with anticipation, Riker rubbed his hands together and commented, "Well, I for one, wouldn't miss this dinner for the world. I think things might start getting a little interesting around here."

The others all agreed. There had been little intrigue or gossip to indulge in of late, and it was very rare that they had anything new on the captain. Deanna nodded her head along with the others, but after glancing at Beverly, wanted to kick Riker for his words.

It was not surprising that the entire senior staff managed to be present at Lieutenant Therese Winthrop's first dinner aboard the _Enterprise_.

Chapter 4

As always, Beverly Crusher and the captain were sharing breakfast before beginning their day. This morning, there were a few things the doctor wanted to discuss, so with casual adroitness, she began to lead the conversation.

"That was quite a dinner you threw last night," she commented as she buttered her croissant.

Picard reached for the teapot and poured himself another cup of tea. "I appreciate everyone joining us. Therese prefers to meet people she'll be working with informally, first."

Beverly smiled. "I think she just liked being able to finally put faces to the people you've obviously spoken so much about."

She very pointedly did not refer to the fact he had never mentioned Therese to any of them, leaving him an unspoken invitation he would normally have recognised and responded to.

This morning he did not.

Sipping his tea, he pretended not to see the opening for explanations she had created, and merely nodded, saying, "I think you may be right."

She regarded him quizzically, wondering what the mystery was. A straight question would likely have gotten her an answer, but she hesitated - whether because she was trying to be considerate of whatever his reasons were, or because she was afraid of his reasons, she could not have said.

Jean Luc was conscious of the pause, felt Beverly regarding him, and knew she was wondering whether to ask him directly or not. Placing his cup carefully on the table, he raised his eyes to hers and said quietly, "Beverly, we'll talk about this one day, but not yet."

She nodded and curved her lips in an uncertain smile. "Okay," she said, not understanding, and not feeling reassured at all.

 * * *

It was not only the CMO in need of reassurance and understanding during the first days of Therese's presence on board the _Enterprise_. Three days after her arrival, Therese arrived at Picard's quarters, looking forward to their first meal together since her welcoming dinner.

She hurried in, smiling a greeting, "Hello, cherie. Sorry I am late." Reaching up to hug him, she said, "I cannot believe I have not seen you in two days," and felt him stiffen, obviously surprised by her action. When she continued their greeting and kissed him on each side of the mouth, she knew something was wrong.

"Cherie?" she asked, seeing his discomfort and guessing, with a sinking heart, its cause.

He apologised immediately. "Therese, I'm sorry. I'm just not used to my crew arriving at my door and greeting me with a hug and a kiss." The surprise of seeing her in the transporter room three days ago had overridden any feelings of embarrassment he might have felt at being greeted as he had been. Now that the surprise factor was gone, he felt uncomfortable with this sort of familiarity while on the _Enterprise_.

Therese, her dark eyes flashing, responded to his words in her usual direct manner. "Jean Luc, I may be part of your crew at the moment, but I am first and foremost 'me'. I did not come to dine with the captain of the _Enterprise_. If I had known *he* was inviting me, I would have said no. He is of little interest to me." She glanced around the room, "As he appears to be the only one here, I think it best if I leave now." There was no mistaking her anger as she turned towards the door.

Picard reached out and grasped her hand, preventing her departure. When she turned to look at him, he forced himself to relax and ease himself into an old self made unfamiliar through disuse.

"Therese, I apologised. I meant it. I've got to get used to having you here. I'm not accustomed to having old friends on board, and certainly not used to having them greet me in such a...casual way."

Therese accepted his apology, but not without her idea of a price. "In that case, *Monsieur* Picard, I suggest we begin this evening again. You are going to have to get used to my behaving in private with you the way I always have. Nor will I accept anything less from you, cherie. We are not at a staff meeting, or in Ten Forward: we are here, in private, to have dinner together."

That said, she exited his quarters, determined that he should learn his lesson quickly. The doors had closed behind her for only a heartbeat when the door chime sounded.

"Come," he said, his relief at setting things right enabling him to tolerate this little charade easily.

"Hello, cherie," Therese smiled once again as she entered his quarters. "Sorry I am late. I cannot believe we have not seen each other for three days."

They hugged, and then took the time to kiss one another on each side of the mouth before Picard said, "You've been busy settling in. I'm surprised you came up for air this soon."

She put a hand on his arm and smiled up at him, their earlier misunderstanding fully erased. "Only to see you, Jean Luc. I disappear once again after dinner. There is much work to be done."

"You can tell me all about it over dinner," he promised, wishing all his mistakes could so easily be undone.

Listening to her conversation over dinner, he thought how good it was to have the reassurance that, with Therese, there would be nothing new to learn so far as being with her was concerned. Everything would be as it always was. He found that reassurance pleasing.

  * * *

Two more weeks passed. Very little changed in the habits of any of the _Enterprise_'s crew: her first officer took his b'akleth classes in an effort to take off a few pounds, her counsellor sought chocolate when she was stressed, and her captain breakfasted daily with the chief medical officer. A little change, perhaps, was the chemical sciences engineer, but except for the more intense concentration on the Mytherin Project her presence heralded, no one would have said during those first few weeks that she had affected anything else.

They were wrong, of course, but they would still have said it.

What no one realised yet was that for the first time in eight years, their captain was no longer always first and foremost the captain of the _Enterprise_. For the first time since taking command, Picard found himself able, during those times he spent with Therese, to throw off the captain persona and be simply the friend he had always been.

He discovered that it felt good to be able to do so.

There were major reasons why it was Therese and not the closest friend he had on the ship who had accomplished this feat. Therese had known him best and longest, without the captain persona in the way - and they had long ago managed to work out the touchy, tricky balance of a friendship turned physical that had not become a love affair.

Most importantly, Picard had complete confidence in where he stood with Therese. With her, there was no fear of mis-interpretation, of drawing too close and being rejected, of wanting more and being turned away. With Beverly, he had to maintain his captain's reserve - it was all he had to protect him from the vulnerability loving her created in him. He had learned, after Kespritt, that to lower that shield and invite closeness with her also invited rejection, and its accompanying pain....

Picard sat alone, studying information on the upcoming mission, his brow creased in concentration. Earlier, he had thought about getting up and starting dinner, but had found the idea of eating alone distasteful. He had considered contacting Beverly, then remembered she was busy with staff evaluations, so thought better of it. The last thing she would want would be for him to disturb her in the middle of those. Too, he knew, she was still waiting for an explanation he didn't feel ready to give, and that would have made for an uncomfortable meal.

The door chime bleeped.

"Come."

Picard's response to the door signal was automatic, and he kept his head bent, still concentrating on the padd he held. Subconsciously, he heard the doors sweep open and the soft sound of light footsteps crossing the carpet to where he sat working. Without looking up from the padd he had been reading for the past hour, he felt a smile build inside him as he recognised his visitor and said, "I didn't expect to see you - I'd have called, but I thought you were too deep into your work."

His unexpected guest smiled and leaned down to kiss him hello. "Well, I am, but put that away and start thinking about dinner. I am starved."

Picard smiled and wondered why it was all the women in his life seemed preoccupied with food. Placing the padd on the sofa beside him, he leaned back and stretched out the cramped muscles in his legs and arms. "Hmmm...show up unexpectedly, demand dinner, and expect instant service too! A little demanding tonight, aren't we?"

Therese stepped over his outstretched legs on her way to her place on the sofa. "Cherie, I have missed seeing you, and when I got this unexpected break, where else should I go but here? To whom else can I complain. Who else would feed me while I did?"

"And how are the experiments going?" Jean Luc asked. "Not so badly you need to complain, I hope. I don't think I've caught more than a glimpse of you in four days. I thought that meant things were proceeding well."

"Oui, they go well, Jean Luc," she sighed as she settled herself comfortably. "The problem is that the information we are getting is leading into so many new areas. I do not have the manpower or the equipment to follow all the leads I have, as quickly as I would like."

"But you're giving it your best shot."

She smiled at him from her corner of the sofa. "Mais, certainment. I just wish there were more hours in a day." She nodded towards the padd laying between them. "And you? We will be in orbit around D'nathin when, two days from now, yes?"

"Yes. And I still don't feel comfortable with the meagre amount of information available. I'm having nightmares about somehow insulting them unknowingly..."

"You'll do fine, cherie. Do you not always? I think you like to worry..."

Not quailed by the look he threw her, she folded her hands on her lap and looked at him expectantly. "Now, what are you planning to feed me? Should you not be getting up to order us something?"

Picard grinned and rose to replicate their meal.

They ate their dinner companionably. The past two weeks had passed quickly for them both, so there were many things to talk about, and since they were not ready to stop when dinner was over, Therese postponed returning to her experiments to share an after dinner drink.

Moving to the living area, Therese felt a glow of satisfaction at the change in it. Only days after her arrival, she had decided that having the sofa and chair set so that only the person in the chair could see the stars did not feel right. With Jean Luc's help, she had moved the sofa to face the viewports, placing the lone chair at an angle across from it so that anyone could look at the view when they felt to inclined.

After dinner, they sat doing just that, their conversation slowly dwindling until there was more silence interspersed with conversation than the other way around. It was during one of these comfortable silences that Jean Luc decided it was time to broach one of the subjects that had lain unspoken between them since she had arrived.

He stood and crossed the room to refill her wineglass. After replacing the wine bottle, he returned to sit more closely to her. Placing his arm along the back of the sofa, his outstretched hand touched her shoulder. He paused a moment to look at her, then asked softly, "So, cherie, he was not the one?"

She looked at him, damning him for bringing the subject up, and thanking the stars for his doing so. Relief washed over her at the thought of finally talking about this, only to be replaced by the sad regret caused by her marriage's end.

"Ah, but he was." Simple words, quietly said.

The bleak understanding that darkened Picard's eyes proved her undoing. The words she had held to herself for so long finally tumbled out, her story disjointed but still describing to him a vivid picture of the abrupt end of her marriage....

"...He was chosen as part of the research crew of the _Questor_," she explained. "Its mission, as you know, is a three year one, on the other side of the DS9 wormhole. There are indications that there may be another stable wormhole on the far side of that quadrant, opposite to the Bajoran one, and they are determined to find it. Once he came home and told me he was going, I knew it was over."

Picard admitted three years was a long time for a couple to be separated, but still... "Over? How did you know that?"

"It was all done in secret, Jean Luc. I knew nothing about it until he came home and told me he had been selected and would be leaving in two months. He did not ask if I minded, did not ask if I might try to find a position on board the ship myself..." Picard could hear the hurt and confusion in her voice as she continued, "He applied for the position, accepted it, and prepared for the mission, all without once consulting me. When he finally got around to telling me, it was fait accompli. It would not have mattered what I said; he was leaving. It rather pointedly showed me the importance of relationship in his life."

Picard regarded her silently. Taking her hand, he held it gently in his, allowing her time to continue.

After a moment, Therese said, "Once I realised he was not concerned about leaving me for three years, I did the only thing I could do under the circumstances. The trust was gone. I left him that night." She smiled sadly and looked down at thier entined hands. "That seemed to surprise him. My asking for a divorce surprised him even more, though heaven knows why. I cannot say that he objected very strenuously. Of course, I refused to take his calls or to see him until the day the papers were signed." Her voice drifted off....

It was another long moment before she raised tear-filled eyes to his. "I love him, Jean Luc. I am 'in" love with him. With my heart, with my soul. I thought it was the same for him. Everything had seemed so *right* with us. I ought to have known that something would go wrong, but I still do not understand what happened..." Her voice faltered, and he waited for her to continue. Squeezing the hand holding hers, she took a deep breath and continued. "The day we met to finalise things, he asked me to change my mind. He told me he loved me more than life...that he would find me when he returned, and convince me of that...but he did not offer to stay."

Picard drew her into his arms and held her until the tears stopped. He would have given much to have known the story from Henri Winthrop's perspective. He knew Therese, knew her temper and some of her insecurities, and knew also that if Wintrop were indeed the man she had given her heart and soul to, she would be very unforgiving if he should somehow cross a line she had drawn. He hugged her closer. There would be time for sorting this out later...there would be something, he hoped, at some point, that he could do...

 * * *

Another two weeks passed before Therese opened up the topic for which she knew Picard was now waiting for her to broach. Wanting to learn more of the woman he had given his heart to, she had been disappointed to find that she saw far less of Beverly Crusher than she had expected to see since her arrival. She had made her appointment for her physical as directed, and had hoped to get to know Beverly a bit better then. The doctor's detached, professional manner, however, had put an end to those thoughts quickly. All attempts Therese made to bring Jean Luc into the conversation were cooly rebuffed, and Therese had soon decided Beverly was not going to make it easy to get to know her - if she allowed such a thing to happen at all. No, she realised, she would have to speak to Jean Luc, and that would mean waiting for the right time....

The right time came at the end of the _Enterprise_'s mission on D'nathin. Earlier, she and Jean Luc had attended the opening of Beverly's latest dramatic production, which had been scheduled as part of the celebrations marking the successful conclusion of the D'nathin mission.

Therese had watched Beverly and Jean Luc interact at the after-show party. She had observed the doctor's gentle touch on his arm when she spoke to him, saw her eyes glow as they shared a joke -and wondered what kept them apart. Picard's feeling for the woman were obvious -though perhaps only because she knew what to look for- and she dispaired. There was something wrong here, and she feared that if it were because of a decision made by the doctor, she would have no power to make it right.

Now, having completed their brief appearance at the party, she and Jean Luc were sitting over a precious glass of Picard wine.

Therese looked at him and barely hesitated as she said softly, "You are in love with her still, yes?"

Jean Luc looked up from the drink he held in front of him and met her eyes. She held them, daring him silently to deny her statement. His eyes dropped.

Responding to a sudden restlessness brought on by her question, he rose and walked to the window and its endless view of darkness dotted with small shards of icy light. Standing there, pretending to look outside, he considered not responding to the comment, but knew he would merely be postponing the inevitable. This was a conversation he knew Therese would make impossible to avoid. Speaking to her reflection in the glass in front of him, he said quietly, "I knew you'd bring her up at some point."

"She is key to your happiness, and you are unhappy. How could I not bring her up, Jean Luc? Did you think me blind? Did you think we would not speak of this, when it is so important to you?"

He stood motionless, still with his back to her, and spoke as much to the unresponsive stars as to her when he replied, "Are you sure you want to listen to this again? Not much has changed."

Therese nodded, "Yes, I want to listen. But answer me first: you are in love with her still, yes?"

Speaking to his audience of stars, his voice was filled with resignation when he said, "It's been so long that I don't remember a time when I wasn't in love with her."

Silence hung thick between them. He could feel it encircling him, feel Therese waiting for him to speak again. He looked at her reflection and felt the welcome reassurance that he was safe here. Moving to face her, he held her gaze.

"Feels like old times," he commented. "It's been too long, Therese."

"What?' she asked, her voice low and gentle. "Too long since we've talked about this, or too long that you have loved this woman?"

Picard looked down at the glass he still held. A part of him wondered if the stars outside were still listening silently when he replied, "Both, I suspect. It amazes and appalls me that we are still talking about the same problem we talked about over twenty-five years ago."

The words came slowly, stating for the first time the possibility that there might be an end to the hope that had haunted him all these years.

His words both gladdened and saddened Therese, for though she had been a quandrant away at the time, she had known about Beverly from the beginning, and had felt joy that Jean Luc had found the woman of his heart. That joy had quickly turned to dismay when he had told her of Jack and the complication he added to the situation.

She had never understood his refusal to attempt a relationship with her after Jack's death - and had argued long and hard that he was allowing a dead man to stop him from loving, but to no avail. Watching him keep himself as far from the temptation of Beverly Crusher as he could, she had felt frustration at his running from a situation she felt he should plunge himself headlong into, complications be damned.

She watched him as he sat down on the sofa and smiled when he attempted to make light of their conversation. "Surely," he asked, "there are more exciting things to discuss than the lack of romantic involvement in my life?"

Therese looked at him thoughtfully. "Sometimes I wonder if that is perhaps the way you have come to prefer it, Jean Luc. Why else would you continue on this way?"

"There's been nothing worth replacing it with. I've met women I cared for, you know that - but Beverly has always there in the background. How can I fall in love with someone when I'm all ready 'in' love?"

She had been looking at her hands while he spoke, absentmindedly smoothing the place on her finger where she had once worn a wedding ring. He knew his words would strike home, knew she too lived in that very same conundrum. He watched as she clenched her hands together, fingers entwined, then relaxed them, concentrating on what she would say next.

There was sadness, resignation and determination in her eyes as she said slowly, "Perhaps you should be less worried about being 'in' love and concern yourself instead with loving and being loved, cherie."

Her words stood stark against the silence between them.

Jean Luc sat, trying to absorb her words. He did not think he could ever give up that small kernal of hope he had that Beverly would one day want to be with him in a closer relationship than simply that of friends.

Understand, Therese reached over to lay a warm hand over his. "You do not do so over night, cherie. How could you? Henri, he fills my dreams and holds my heart. But as time passes and I take time for talking and thinking...I know that I have to move on. I will not, *cannot* remain alone, and one day there will again be someone to share my life with."

"That's always been important to you," he said, keeping the conversation off himself for a moment longer.

She nodded. "I could never choose the life you have, cherie. For me, the sharing, the intimacy with a person you care for -even if you are not 'in' love, it is important. It is nothing to be ashamed of."

"I would never suggest that. In my position, however, I'd have found your path fraught with problems. Being alone is far easier than trying to accommodate personal relationships if you lead the kind of life I've led these last years."

Therese nodded. Referring to a conversation they had had a few nights before, she said, "But I think you need more. Now, even you begin to feel differently, yes? You said yourself that you did not expect to be captain of the _Enterprise_ for much longer, that perhaps it was time to move on. What of then? Will you continue to remain alone, 'friends' with the woman you are in love with? Will she continue here as the CMO while you live your life alone, wherever it is your duties take you? Is that what you want? Is that what will make you happy?"

She stopped speaking, surprised at the unexpected turn this conversation had taken, frightened of where it might lead him. Waiting until he looked at her before she continued, she faced that fear and added pointedly, "Perhaps it is time to move on in more ways than one."

His features were shadowed with sadness and his eyes were bleak when he responded, "But can I?"

She looked at him and wondered.

Chapter 5

Therese did a lot of thinking after her conversation with Jean Luc, and generally came to the same conclusion he had: perhaps it was time for him to move on.

She had observed that, at least since her own arrival, Beverly had been a remarkable no show in Jean Luc's life. She took breakfast with him, yes, and Jean Luc shared thoughts with his CMO that he did not share with the rest of his senior crew, but their relationship went no further than that. The doctor, as far as she could see, was not interested in anything more than friendship with Jean Luc -despite that look in her eye when she spoke to him, and her sometimes proprietorial manner towards him.

There was a need to be certain, though. Therese had spoken of being satisfied with loving, but she knew the power of being 'in' love and having that love returned and wished that for Jean Luc. Perhaps, she thought, with a little prodding the fool woman would declare herself.

Ten Forward was packed with people the evening Therese chose to gently push a few of Beverly's buttons. All the senior staff and as many of the regular crew who could attend were there, listening to Riker's band, dancing, and enjoying the celebration of Deanna's birthday.

Deanna, the captain, Data, LeForge, Therese, and Beverly all shared a table, with Riker joining them between sets. Conversation had been lively, and had finally gotten around to tales of their wild youth.

They were all laughing over Geordi's story about proposing marriage to a woman he had just met in a bar. "Well, I was very drunk, and she was very lovely...I didn't know she was eight months pregnant until she stood up. I didn't know the guy sitting beside her was her husband until he hit me." He shook his head. "Wish he'd been a foot shorter and a lot more even tempered..."

"At least you got an answer," laughed Therese. She glanced at Picard, who was sitting next to her and said, "I asked, but still I wait for a yes or a no." She looked pointedly at Picard and waited.

Laughter died away and conversation stopped. Everyone seemed to lean a little closer to the table to hear the rest of this story, all expecting a very interesting scenario was about to be played out.

The captain looked at her, genuinely surprised. "What do you mean?"

"I asked you to marry me. You never gave me an answer."

Remembering, Jean Luc's eyes widened with innocence. "Therese, Maman was calling me, I didn't have the opportunity."

Therese laughed and spoke to the others. "Both of the Picard boys knew that if their mother called them, they had better drop everything and run."

"Precisely," said Picard, "So you can hardly blame me. Besides, I was twelve. Marriage is a big commitment at that age."

"You've had time to mature since then."

He grunted and teased her, "And I've gotten a better idea of what I'd be getting myself into, too!"

She cocked her head to one side and placed a hand on his arm. Glancing a Beverly quickly, to make sure she was listening, she said, "But you cannot say it would be such a terrible thing."

"True," he agreed easily. Then, looking at the others at the table, he pleaded, "What do you do with someone who asks you to marry her when she's only ten and then brings it up, half a century later, as 'pending business'?"

Therese thrilled at the relaxed way he leaned back and regarded her with a warmth in his eyes he felt no need to disguise. So different from just weeks ago, she thought, and wondered what the crew thought of the man now sitting with them. Or did they yet notice the difference?

She looked at the red-head sitting across from them. Beverly Crusher seemed not to have any reaction at all to what had just taken place. //Gods,// Therese thought, //she might be a brilliant doctor, but the woman is an idiot.// To not take Jean Luc's love...she shook her head in bewilderment.

Deciding upon another tact, Therese completely changed topic and turned to Beverly, saying, "I enjoyed the drama you put on last month. It was very well done, doctor. Jean Luc tells me many of the crew participate in your productions. Have all the command crew done parts in your plays?"

Beverly shook her head. She had been more quiet than usual that evening, watching the two opposite her, questioning their friendship and feeling uneasy. Now she looked at the captain and said with a small smile, "I've had one hold-out for years. Can't find the role he feels able to play...right, Jean Luc?"

Jean Luc smiled and shook his head. "Acting just isn't one of the things I do, Beverly."

"Then she should put you in a musical, where you can sing something," said Therese.

"Sing?" an involuntary table chorus rose at this unexpected thought.

"Of course. He has a lovely voice." She looked at Jean Luc, a little bewildered at everyone's surprise, then turned to the group, a smile curving her mouth. "Growing up where we did, he was always considered quite the catch. He sang very witty songs our parents would not have wanted us to hear, and of course, a boy who could manage not to trample our feet was much in demand at weekend dances. We were fortunate he could dance so well."

"Dance?" another chorus went up.

Therese looked confused again. She had been on this ship now for a couple of months, and was still finding that there were many things she took for granted about Jean Luc that no one here, despite the eight years they had spent together, knew about.

She looked at Jean Luc and saw from his expression that there had perhaps been too much personal revelation for his taste that evening. To remove him from their interested stares and perhaps salvage the situation, she rose and held out a hand to him. "Ummm, I think perhaps you should dance with me now, cherie."

Picard rose, excused himself from the group with as much dignity as he could muster, and led her to where a dance floor had been cleared. Once they were out of earshot, he leaned towards her and said, "Do you think you could possibly allow me to keep something of my personal life personal? Captains don't generally run around their ships singing and dancing, Therese."

Therese refused to be quailed by his admonition, despite the fact that she agreed with him. Quite illogically, she retorted tartly, "Well, the ones who enjoy their lives do. And you should be too. There is nothing wrong with dancing, and if the mood should hit you that you want to sing, there should be nothing to prevent your doing so."

They looked at one another in silence after she had finished. She saw a glimmer in his eye begin to twinkle, and her lips curved. He saw her lips curve, gave up being angry, and shook his head, chuckling. "Therese, you're impossible. That made absolutely no sense."

Her eyes sparkled at him, and she leaned towards him conspiratorially. "I know," she whispered, "but you are no longer angry with me, no?"

"No," he agreed, "But Therese, by saying I don't dance, I have avoided..."

She raised her hands, palms facing him, "I do not want to hear it, Jean Luc. It also means you have not had the opportunity to enjoy yourself when you could have."

"Therese, it's not as though I *never* danced..."

"No, but I can wager that you always made it sound like a chore."

"And it usually was."

She looked at him and her face softened. "Except when..." she guessed, her voice sudenly gentle.

"Yes," he answered in a low voice. "Except when..."

Realising they were standing on the perimeter of the dance floor and were beginning to draw attention, she moved into his arms and allowed him to lead her in among the other dancers.

Despite the years apart, their steps were well matched, and the small group they had left at the table watched as they moved comfortably around the dance floor, obviously deep in conversation, and oblivious to the attention they were attracting. Most of the onlookers thought they made quite an attractive couple; some of them were wondering what the story was between the captain and his friend - and one of them was becoming terribly afraid she knew.

Therese's thoughts, however, were not on whatever impressions they were making. In a low, troubled voice she said, "I do not understand, Jean Luc. Do they know you at all?"

"Of course they do. I'm their commanding officer. We've served together for more than seven years."

"But you do not want them to know personal things about yourself." She shook her head and sighed. How could he be reminded to be himself if no one on the entire ship knew who that was? "I think it is perhaps a good thing that I am here, my love."

They danced to a couple of songs, then returned to the others. Back at the table, Therese again attempted to draw Beverly into the conversation, ignoring Jean Luc's thunderous glower when she continued her earlier conversation by saying, "I think you should choose a musical as your next production. Jean Luc might do well with a role in it."

Deanna, who had been gently assessing the emotions circling the table all evening, watched this by-play with interest.

She could sense that Therese was baiting Beverly, trying to force a reaction out of her, but could not have said why.

She could sense Beverly's growing frustration and her disquiet over seeing Therese and Picard together, and could easily have said why.

She could also sense that Picard was totally unaware of the underlying currents between the two women. And could not have said she was surprised.

Beverly hesitated, having difficulty in visualising the captain of the _Enterprise_ singing Gilbert and Sullivan. It was not something that, knowing Jean Luc as she did, was appropriate. She knew how hard it had been to live down the 'Dancing Doctor' thing. What would Jean Luc be called? 'The Capering Captain?

She shuddered.

Before Beverly could voice her reservations, Jean Luc interjected, "I don't think so, Therese." He was quite in agreement with Beverly's unspoken assessment of what he should and should not do. Sing in a musical? Definitely a 'not do'.

"Just once," teased Therese.

"We'll see," postponed Picard, knowing from long experience it was the best way of getting out of things where Therese was concerned. 'Perpetual postponement' was a ploy that had saved him on more than one occasion, and he hoped it would do so again.

"See?" Therese said to Beverly, eyes twinkling at the realisation he had used the postponement ploy again. "You just have to know how to handle him!"

Beverly smiled a not very convincing smile, resisted the idea of slapping the other woman, and motioned with her hand. "I'm sure you're right, and bow to your greater expertise." Looking at the others, she said, "And now, I must be going..."

She left, hating the feeling that she was now sharing Jean Luc with someone else. She was used to pretty much exclusive rights, and she knew she had lost them - if she had ever had them, she thought to herself bitterly, remembering with chagrin that Therese had been part of his life all along, and she simply had not been aware of it. She could hardly wait until they returned to Earth and dropped the woman off. Then, she knew, everything would go back to normal.

Therese watched the other woman leave, surprised that she had not tried any of the obvious maneuvers that she could have used to get Picard to herself for a moment. Her brows drew together, and she shook her head. Beverly could have simply asked him to dance while she pretended to try to convince him to sing. It would have worked. He would not have agreed to sing, but it would certainly have allowed her to catch his attention, and given him the pleasure of having her in his arms. If this woman had any deep feelings for Jean Luc, leaving was sure an odd way of showing it.

//Brilliant doctor, dullard of a woman,// she thought, paraphrasing her earlier assessment. She could not fathom why Beverly did not react, why she seemed so reluctant to respond. Perhaps, indeed, she was incapable of loving Jean Luc the way he deserved, the way he *needed* to be loved. She turned her gaze to Jean Luc, who was also watching the tall slender woman weave her way amongst the tables towards the door, and felt sorrow.

 * * *

"It's like seeing this whole person I rarely got to see, but always knew was there, just show up and move in," Beverly said, trying to explain the change she saw in the _Enterprise_'s captain.

She was sitting with Deanna in the counsellor's living area. Deanna, knowing of Beverly's growing concern about something and suspecting the cause, had invited her friend to her quarters, hoping for just such a revelation.

The counsellor sipped her hot chocolate and commented, "She does seem to make him happy."

Beverly was not, though. Deanna could feel the waves of anger, hurt, and jealousy that no amount of outer self control could hide from her empathic senses.

"But how can he be so different around her? He's so relaxed, so...so...*human* when he's with her," she said, frustrated at not understanding.

"Beverly, the captain has always been much the same with you."

The doctor shook her head. "No, never as openly. Just the way they *are* together...he doesn't mind her touching him when they speak, doesn't feel embarrassed when she whisperd something that makes him laugh. He'd jump if I tried to do that in Ten Forward with everyone there. He'd tense up, back away."

Deanna's dark eyes widened in surprise. Obviously, Beverly did not realise just how often she casually touched him when she spoke to him and muttered sharp little private asides to him in public. Nor did she realise how much the captain enjoyed those moments between them. Sadly, she could also see that Beverly would not believe her if she told her.

"He's known her almost all his life," she tried to explain instead. "This is the first time you've seen him with someone he's known so long. He is very comfortable with her." Deanna drew a deep breath. "Beverly, he's confident of their relationship, sure of were he stands."

"We've been friends for years, he should be confident of our friendship, too."

"I think he is," commented the counsellor diplomatically, then added softly, "But does he know where he stands? And is it 'friendship' we're talking about here, or something more?"

To Deanna's disappointment, Beverly kept herself completely out of the equation when she responded, "That's just it. I don't know what he's feeling for her. I have no idea how I could possibly bring it up, and you know he won't bring it up himself." She shot Deanna a sharp glance. "He may have changed, but he hasn't changed *that* much!"

//And neither have you,// Deanna thought sadly.

 * * *

Admiral Blake's angular face frowned into the viewscreen. He had couched the offer in the most favourable way possible, but still the man was hesitating. "We want an answer, Jean Luc, but we are willing to give you some time to think about it, if you need it. You're heading back to Earth in a few months, so how about we wait until then for your final answer?"

Picard nodded. "That's fine, sir, I appreciate the lengthy time period. It's not a decision I can make quickly."

 "I know, and now that we've finally got a carrot that might entice you, I don't want you to turn us down automatically and miss this opportunity. Think about it, captain. Seriously."

"I will sir, thank you."

Picard saw the admiral nod, then lean over and touch the controls to the communicator just before the screen went blank.

Leaning back in his ready room chair, he exhaled deeply, torn between elation and reluctance at the thought of taking Star Fleet up on their proposal.

 * * *

The two had been talking quietly, enjoying what had become the rare treat of sharing an evening together. Beverly had been surprised at his invitation, but no more than he had been by her acceptance. Both had had unusually busy work days of late, and had not been able to schedule anything but their usual breakfasts together for weeks. Too, Therese took up a good deal of Picard's off-duty time -something Beverly resented, but had unwittingly contributed to by being unwilling to chance meeting the other woman in Picard's quarters. Because of this, she had stopped 'dropping by' completely. Picard, noticing her dwindling presence and regretting it, had not liked to comment. Therese, seeing that Picard spent too many evenings alone, increased her post-dinner visits.

 Tonight, however, excepting for the devastating topic of conversation, was like old times. Sitting at the edge of the sofa, Jean Luc leaned forward, elbows on his knees, the fingers of his hands working against each other, as he said seriously, "Beverly, I'm not sure what I want to do. You know I've talked about perhaps taking a position next time they offered it to me -you know my concerns about what's happening on Earth -but I'm not sure it's the right thing for me just yet."

 From her customary position in the chair oposite, Beverly looked at Jean Luc and tried not to show panic at the thought of his not being here on the _Enterprise_ with her. A myriad of thoughts flashed through her mind, and she felt fear. Jean Luc had said that he had spoken to Blake three days ago. How much, she wondered, had Therese influenced him, encouraging him to seriously consider something he had never been willing to consider before?

It bothered her that still, after more than four months, Picard had not yet offered an explanation as to why he had never mentioned his friendship with Therese. She knew that they dined together occasionally, and knew that the dinners were increasing in frequency. She didn't know that it was because the hectic schedule of the experiments had slowed, giving Therese more time to spend with Jean Luc, and so supposed that their relatiopship was deepening for other reasons. She had seen them share lunch together in Ten Forward, knew that they had attended her play together. He mentioned her casually, did not seem uncomfortable that people knew the frequency with which they kept each other's company, and did not seem to be hiding anything -except that stomach-churning secret she still waited to hear from him. She knew she resented the older woman's proprietary attitude towards him...She winced, and moved uncomforatably in her seat. It was all too much, and now, he seemed to be actually considering leaving the ship... and her...

She drew a deep, steadying breath. All she had to do was wait. It had always worked before, it would certainly work again. She had outlasted all his relationships with other women. Time, that was all it would take. Therese would leave the ship, and everything would be back in place again. He would never leave the _Enterprise_...

Both her uncertainty about his relationship with Therese and confidence that he would never leave, were the driving forces behind her advice that night. She was careful not to let him know her fears, careful not to voice her desire for him to stay. He would make his decision on his own, and his decision, she told herself, would tell her where she stood.

As they spoke, he listened carefully for a hint that she might prefer him to stay on the ship, with her. He listened in vain. Sadly, he realised that if even the threat of their parting was not enough to force her into saying something, then it was indeed time to move on. Therese had been sure Beverly would finally declare herself with the threat of his leaving.

To Picard's dismay, Therese had been mistaken.

Chapter 6

Beverly's friendship with Jean Luc slowly eroded away while she watched helplessly. She missed him. Longed to hear the deep rumble of his accented voice, longed to see that glimmer in his eye when he looked at her and she knew he loved her. She betrayed none of this, and instead remained aloof, believing this was a decision he must make on his own...not understanding it was a decision he wanted to share...

Picard, hurt by Beverly's indifference, noticed their drifting apart but did nothing to prevent it. Slowly, he moved out of the orbit around her he had been in do many years. Allowing whatever their relationship had been - or had potentially been - to die a quiet death seemed the best thing. After more than twenty years of waiting for a life, such a small, unremarkable death felt almost anticlimactic.

Therese, frustrated at Beverly's stupidity, found solace that at least she could do for Jean Luc what he had done for her. Together they dealt with their feelings of loss and helped each other cope with the pain. Slowly their friendship grew even closer, stronger, warmer. Picard grew to like and depend on always having someone always there, and Therese drew strength from his need, happy that she could care for someone, glad that when with him she could sometimes forget the part of her heart that traveled in a distant quadrant...

* * *

Therese groaned under her breath and input something into the PADD she held in front of her. Picard, sitting on the sofa in his quarters next to her, glanced over at her.

She'd been working for some time, going over data from the last five month's worth of experiments, and while he sat quietly reading a book, Picard had enjoyed listening to her softly exclaim, curse, or mutter as she worked. The last few minutes he'd been listening to mostly curses, and he decided it was time for her to take a break. Placing the book on the sofa beside him, he reached over and lifted the pair of glasses perched on her nose, only to let them drop back, making them slip a little further down her nose than before.

"These still look funny." he teased.

"Jean Luc, it is not my fault taking bylethecynine to alleviate the symptoms of that stupid D'nathian flu affected my eyesight. Another few months and I will be back to normal." She threw him a sharp glance: "To wear glasses is a better alternative to being blind as..." she searched for the Standard words... "a bat for months."

He lifted his hand to put a strand of hair behind her ear. "Of course, Cherie." he soothed. "But you could have chosen surgery, you know."

Though they seldom spoke their native french even when alone together, he'd noticed that there were times when her accent was quite noticeable. He enjoyed it - and enjoyed watching her grapple for unfamiliar phrases too.

"That I would not do. Surgery when there is no long term need? It makes no sense. In a short time I will be fine with no medical intervention. I like my doctors *without* a laser scalpel in their hands, merci beaucoup."

"Beverly would have done a fine job."

"On your eyes, perhaps, but I would not wager the vineyard on her being so careful with mine." As soon as the words were out of her mouth she regretted both them and the tone in which she'd said them. Jean Luc still hadn't noticed the tension between the two women or their careful maneuvering to avoid being anywhere near each other. It was certainly not something she had any desire to bring up for discussion with him. "Sorry." she said, apologizing immediately, "I'm frustrated with my numbers. They do not come out as I ask."

She relaxed and leaned her head onto the back of the sofa. Again he reached over to move the errant piece of hair. She smiled at him. It was wonderful to have him reaching out to her so unselfconsciously. With their talks about their personal disappointments over, it seemed that they had been able to regain all their old camaraderie. Being together now was reassuring and they were content in the other's company. The quiet understanding they found in each other's company made the other a welcome companion.

Moving closer, he took her PADD from her. Looking at the data that scrolled across the small screen, he shook his head and looked down at her.

"Sorry, can't help. It's all Greek to me."

She laughed. "You knew that before you looked."

He turned and put a hand on the back of the sofa near her head. He loved the way she looked: the smile lines around her eyes, the dark brows that rose when she teased him. The silver hairs glinting among the dark ones did not speak to him of passing years; for him they were an enchanting, beautiful part of a woman he held more dearly now than he had ever thought possible.

It'd been fifty years since he'd first met her, and he marveled that she still elicited in him the same warm response she had then. He could remember the anger he'd felt at having a book hit him squarely on the head while sitting under a tree, attempting to escape work his father had assigned him to do for the day. Looking up, he'd seen those very same liquid brown eyes smiling down at him.

"Oops! Sorry!" she'd said, not looking sorry at all, "I was trying not to let anyone know I was hiding up here..." His anger had magically melted under the warmth of her smile.

"And why are you hiding?" he'd asked.

"Can't tell you. I don't know you."

"I'm Jean Luc. Who are you?"

"Therese. We've just moved into that yellow house off Rue Blanc."

He had pointed up the hill to a house mostly hidden by trees. "I live up there."

Leaning to see where he pointed, she lost her grip on the branch and slid out of the tree. Jean Luc managed to partly catch her, more by the fact he was standing in the way of her fall than by any intention of heroism on his part. In any event, she had escaped with only a few scratches. After he'd looked at her bloodied knee, he'd stood up and, brushing his hands off on his pants, had told her she'd be fine.

She looked up at him. "Thank you."

"You're most welcome. Now tell me what you were doing up in my tree."

"Only if you tell me what you were doing sitting under *mine*."

He'd blinked at her quick retort. "Taking a break from my father," was his honest reply.

"Taking a break from my mother." was hers.

She stared at him a moment, then with a glorious smile as accompaniment had said decisively: "I think we shall be very great friends."

Jean Luc smiled at the memory and lifted a hand to caress her cheek. "Very great friends indeed." he said, echoing his memories.

She looked at him, her lips curving upwards, and knew exactly which memory he drew his words from. She looked at him, remembering the light in his eyes the first time they'd made love, how much he had wanted to and how he had held back, how concerned he'd been that it not ruin their friendship, and his growing confidence when he learned it did not. They had continued that part of their relationship, on and off, through the years, enjoying the warmth and intimacy, knowing it for what it was, and, more importantly, recognizing what it wasn't. It was a rare and precious gift, this, and they knew and treasured that as well...

Then he had become Captain of the Enterprise, and she had met and fallen in love with Henri Winthrop.

Now, he was still on the Enterprise, but Therese was here and Winthrop was gone. And when with her, he no longer felt the captain...

They caught their breath at the same time, recognizing the moment, welcoming it.

Her eyes were warm and dark and so deep he dove into their welcome almost without thinking. Leaning closer, he brushed his lips against hers. Her breath was warm and familiar and tantalizing. He smiled as old feelings rose within him.

She moved her lips against his, her hands pressuring the back of his neck to lean closer still. Sliding sideways, her mouth still against his, she pulled him over her.

Memories flooded them: his weight on her body, his pressing against her, eliciting a sweet rush of desire in them both that only more intimate contact could assuage...the feel of her skin beneath his lips, the softness of her breast, the warmth...they both smiled. "I'm experiencing a severe case of deja vu, Cherie," he murmured.

"Ummm. Tu l'aime?"

She felt his lips smile against hers. "Very much."

They reacquainted themselves with each other, enjoying the taste and smell and touches that felt at once familiar yet new and exotic. Eventually he stood, reaching his hand down to help her up. "Sorry Cherie, but I'm too old to want to do this anywhere but in the comfort of my bed."

She placed her hand in his and allowed him to help her stand. Looking into his eyes, she asked one question: "You are sure?"

"Oh yes. The sofa is far too uncomfortable."

Glancing down at her serious face, he relented. Softly, his eyes speaking his gratitude, he said: "Oui, Cherie." Touching her chin with gentle fingers, he asked "Et tu, mon coeur?"

Therese raised both hands to cradle his face gently. She searched his eyes, silently wondering if he understood fully what this action might create. After a moment, she nodded and turned towards his bedroom. They needed one another, wanted one another...and whatever consequences there might be, they would deal with together.

Their lovemaking was everything it had always been and something more. Jean Luc reveled in the freedom he felt to reach out and the joy of being met and held and reached for in return. Therese felt his gratitude and rejoiced that the Jean Luc she had treasured was still there and that they could still, after all this time, after all their disappointments and pain, share this wonder. The warmth and tenderness of their joining stood testament to their friendship...and to their need for solace.

Lying in his arms afterwards, she snuggled closer. "It's good to be home." she sighed contentedly. "Merci."

Jean Luc smiled sleepily. "It's good to have you here, ma petite. Now go to sleep." he said, not even considering she should leave. "We've a long day tomorrow..." she heard him drift off to sleep, his breathing slowing, becoming more deep.

She lay there thinking over the past few weeks and wondered again. Loving him was very easy, and she knew that there would be new comfort come from this night's decision. How they handled the resumption of the physical part of their relationship would be dealt with tomorrow. There was still Beverly to be considered. The woman didn't want this intimacy with Jean Luc, but Therese was quite certain Beverly would not want any other woman to either. She tried hard not to hate the woman for causing the man she lay beside pain.

And tried just as hard not to thank her for the result.

She sighed and turned onto her side, her head still on Jean Luc's shoulder. Placing her hand on his chest so she could feel the steady, strong beat of his heart, she felt a comfort she knew would be difficult to give up. Poor Beverly, she thought drowsily...

"I'll have to get cleared up and out of here before breakfast..." was her last, blurred thought before soft slumber overtook her.

Chapter 7

"Winthrop to Picard."

"Picard here."

Therese's disembodied voice held suppressed excitement as she said, "I have finished the initial stages of primary implementation captain. A few adjustments have been made to the molecular alignment sequences, but otherwise, everything has gone as proposed. Would you like to see the changes we have made now, before we begin our next phase, or is a written report all you need?"

Picard smiled, though she could not see it. She had been anticipating this moment for a long time. It was not actually a part of her main research, but rather an interesting off shoot of it, and it had become her pet project; the least he could do was share. "I think I'd like to see them, Lieutenant. When would be convenient?"

"We begin Phase Two at 14:00."

He could hear the smile in her voice.

Looking around the quiet bridge, he replied, "I'll be there sometime before then."

"Thank you, sir."

Deanna watched Picard with puzzled amazement. In the past six months she had watched what had from the beginning been a close friendship turn into something more. She could not yet define the relationship exactly, but there was a blanket of strength and a feeling of deep comfort when the two were together. She wondered at time if they were lovers, but had always decided not: the emotions were not what she would have expected, and there were none of the troubled feelings the captain usually felt when involved with a woman that way.

She had also watched the gradual dissolution of the bond that had bound the captain and Beverly so tightly together these past several years. She was certain there was love between them still, but could feel the balance between them changing. Despite the captain becoming more open in some areas of his life, she could feel doors closing on his emotions where Beverly was concerned. He seemed unexpectedly calm about it all, and she found herself wanting very much to understand why.

Picard felt Deanna's gaze, and turning his head quickly, he again caught her staring at him. He had been catching her doing this more and more, lately. He knew she was curious, knew that she wondered what was going on, and could guess that a large part of her thoughts revolved around its effect on Beverly. His face turned thoughtful as he realised that if he did not soon take the offensive, Deanna Troi would.

"Counselor," he said, making a decision he was already wondering if he would regret, "Would you join me in my ready room?"

Startled out of her reverie, Deanna tried to put on a professional face and nodded. "Yes, sir."

She followed him into the ready room and sat on the couch he indicated. "Would you like something to drink?"

 "Coffee, please."

Picard replicated the coffee, and then a tea for himself. Passing Deanna her beverage before sitting down in the chair across from her, he said, "We might as well get this discussion over with now."

Deanna's lips curved. She heard the resignation in his voice and could also feel it in his emotional coloring. Not bothering to pretend she did not know what 'this discussion' would be about, she admonished him gently, "You sound as though talking to me is torture."

"Sometimes it is." He smiled to ease his words.

In the past, he had done almost anything imaginable to avoid speaking with her of personal matters. It was to her credit that she had instilled in him enough respect for her abilities that, despite initial moves to avoid her, he usually came around...somewhat.

"Yet this time, you're the one initiating a conversation." She paused a beat and narrowed her eyes. "Is this a trick?"

When he lifted surprised eyebrows, she scolded gently, "You can't blame me for being suspicious."

Picard shook his head and smiled. "It's no trick -though I understand you suspicion."

"You certainly should. This is quite out of character, sir."

Ignoring her last comment, he plunged into the reason for his asking her in. "You're wondering about Therese and me...and about Beverly."

Deanna nodded, unprepared for the sudden switch. "I am. But I must say that I've not detected anything about your relationship with Lieutenant Winthrop to make me feel counseling is necessary."

"I wouldn't think so, not," he added dryly, "that I'm not relieved to hear you say it. If that is the case, however, perhaps you can tell me: Why the rather persistent scrutiny?" He sat closer to the edge of the chair, and reached over to place his tea cup on the table between them.

She considered her words before replying slowly, "Captain, I've seen you in several relationships over the years, and I've never seen you so relaxed as you are now. It is only natural that I should wonder what has brought on the change."

The captain shrugged and looked almost pleased with himself. "Perhaps, since arriving on the _Enterprise_, I've never been so relaxed."

"Then perhaps I could ask why?"

She hesitated to continue because of how deeply personal her next comment would be, but forged ahead. He had, after all, been the one to start this. "I know what you feel for Therese isn't the same as what you feel...felt for..." she paused, searching for a substitute for 'Beverly', and chose, "...other women, yet since she has arrived, you have been happier, or more content, than I've ever seen you."

Jean-Luc nodded, recognizing her substitute for 'Beverly' for what it was.

"Having Therese here has helped me clarify a few things. It's been a long time since I've spent so much time with someone who knows me so well -as a person, I mean."

"You have shared much."

He nodded. He felt compelled to explain how remarkable their relationship was, how grateful he was for it. He paused to think, and the words that followed indicated more than anything the distance that had developed between him and Beverly Crusher. "It was she who helped me cope with being in love with Beverly all those years ago when Jack and I were on the _Stargazer_..."

Deanna's eyes widened at both the revelation that he had confided his feelings to someone so long ago, and that he could so easily say 'being in love with Beverly' now. She, of course, had empathic knowledge of his feelings, but he had never come even close to admitting how he felt verbally.

While she dealt with the shock of his being so frank about something so personal, he continued,"...she was a great support throughout everything. She listened, counseled..." He had picked up his teacup again and begun toying with it, but paused to look up at Deanna when he said, "Beverly is good for me in so many ways I cannot even begin to count them, but on one level..." Again, he paused, searching for the words he needed. Frowning, he looked up at Deanna and said slowly, "It takes two to make a relationship work, and Beverly and I have never managed that. We're always at odds with our timing, with our needs. I think being with Therese has brought that home to me."

He kept his gaze even, and surprised as she was that he was actually speaking this way to her, she could feel his sincerity when he said, "I'm sure Beverly is sighing with relief that it's finally over, that I'm not pressuring her for more than she is willing or able to give. We can continue our friendship without her worrying I will again ask her for more, or that I will back away when she is ready to move forward."

Deanna struggled to keep her features calm. 'Sighing in relief' was not exactly Beverly's reaction at the moment; the woman was devastated...and 'finally over'? Heavy words.

Breaking into her thoughts, he continued, "...Beverly and I have a history and a lot of baggage. The baggage weighs us down. When we get too close she becomes uncomfortable, and loses her sense of ease with me. On the other hand, Therese and I have twice the history but none of the baggage. That's the difference you feel in our relationship. Our past strengthens our relationship instead of deep-sixing it at every turn."

"You know exactly where you stand," she said, almost to herself, thinking back to her conversation with Beverly weeks before.

"That is correct," he answered. "With Therese, I know exactly where I stand. She can still surprise me, still amuse me, still wind me around her little finger...and yet I'm never, ever afraid. If how I feel about her is different than what I feel for Beverly, then so be it. This is right for me now -for both Therese and myself, actually. We are content."

His eyes were steady when they held hers, and she could feel his resolve to at last free himself of the bondage that loving Beverly had become for him. She could also tell that, to a large extent, he already had. Just his speaking of this to her now indicated he had mentally put it into his past. She also knew, however, that far more emotions roiled beneath the surface that he was not allowing her access to, despite his surprising honesty. Those emotions were the ones that involved Beverly, and those were the ones he would never fully allow anyone to see.

The captain watched Deanna's face and saw that there were questions still remaining. His time for self-revelation was over, though. He had been as honest with her as he could be, and had told her as much -more, actually- as he was comfortable in telling. He had done his best to help her understand his closeness to Therese and the counter-balancing coolness that had grown between him and Beverly. He felt his job was done.

He inhaled deeply, feeling a powerful sense of closure. He would be leaving the ship, though he had not announced that fact. Not even Therese knew yet of his decision. Now Deanna, at least, would have some understanding of the man leaving to become a Star Fleet Admiral -and perhaps not judge him too harshly.

Closure or no, however, he would say no more. The rest, the Counselor would have to work out herself, if she still had concerns.

Deanna felt the emotional shift in the man opposite her and rose. She was still not certain how intimate the 'friendship' was. Not knowing Picard's decision to leave, she wondered about the importance of Therese in the long run. Was she now the primary chorus in his life, or a background melody, at the moment playing an important symphonic role, but receding once they left her on Earth, to become again only a whispered background note?

"Thank you for explaining things to me, sir. I appreciate your openness." She looked at him, her eyes dark. "And I am happy for you."

Picard nodded.

She left, knowing the captain considered the matter closed. In Deanna's opinion, only the door behind her had. She needed to understand more.

 * * *

Later, after dinner in Ten Forward, Deanna spoke with Riker, who had also noticed and been watching with interest the new dynamics of the captain's private life. Will, of course, had always been interested in the captain's personal affairs, finding his lack of comfort when involved with members of the opposite sex amusing. The captain's relationship with Lieutenant Winthrop, however, was like nothing he had seen before.

Deanna watched Riker pause in his conversation to watch Picard and Therese Winthrop, who had shared dinner a few tables away, leave together. Changing topic abruptly, Riker commented, "Deanna, I'm amazed. And envious. If what I think is going on really is, then they've got the romance-onboard-a-ship thing all sorted out."

Glancing over her shoulder at the couple's retreating forms, she asked, "You see romance there?"

"Well, it's a heck of a friendship, at the very least. As I said, I'm amazed."

Troi smiled. "The 'heck of a friendship' is not all you're amazed at."

Riker smiled back. "You're right. I'm also amazed that the Jean Luc Picard *I* know, could manage this sort of romance..." He nodded, smiled, and in deference to Deanna's look changed his words to, "...of *friendship* so naturally, without any of the self-consciousness he displayed with Vash or Nella...or even Beverly."

Troi felt the tint of regret coloring his thoughts when he mentioned Beverly's name. Will, too, had harbored hopes that the captain and the doctor would one day manage to sort things out between them. Reaching over, she placed her hand over his. "I feel the same way, but things are as they are." Briefly, she wondered if there were perhaps something she could do to change that.

Riker, a few days later, would reach the conclusion that there was nothing anyone could do.

 * * *

The next day, Deanna entered Ten Forward to find Therese sitting alone. Not wanting to let an opportunity slip away -she had some questions she needed answered- she walked over to her. Still uncomfortable that Beverly seemed so left out of the whole equation of what was taking place between this woman and the captain, she smiled down at the woman she regarded in some vague way as an adversary and said, "Would you mind if I joined you?"

Therese looked up and gestured towards the chair opposite her. "Not at all, Counselor," she said, smiling. "I am waiting for Jean Luc, but something tells me he is going to be late."

Deanna sat, and for a while the women spoke casually. When Therese mentioned something Picard had said earlier that day, Deanna found her opening to say, "You and the captain are very close."

Therese nodded, keeping her smile in place, but mentally preparing herself for the conversation she knew was coming. "I tell people we have known each other forever, and it truly does seem that way."

Deanna had felt Therese's mental shift immediately, knew she was preparing for a difficult conversation, but otherwise saw no change in the other woman's calm, pleasant demeanor.

"But you are more to each other than simply 'old friends'," she prodded.

Therese's mouth quirked in a half-smile. "You are an empath; you would sense that there is more, yes?"

"You don't mind that I know?"

"But of course not. Jean Luc, he has told me about the conversation he had with you."

"That didn't bother you?"

"Pourquoi?" Surprise made her forget her Standard, but she quickly repeated herself, "Why? We are discreet, but one could not expect it to remain a secret forever -at least, not from you." She looked at Deanna squarely and said, "But Counselor, there is a good reason for not making it public, yes? The doctor would be upset if she knew. To hurt her, is to hurt Jean Luc. I would not have that." She paused to look down at her drink, then raised dark eyes to say earnestly, "I will not be on the ship much longer. There is no need to change the way things appear."

"I don't understand..."

Therese did not truly expect her to understand; she was not certain she understood it totally herself. What she did know was that by becoming lovers once again, she and Jean Luc had found comfort and a sort of contentment they were jealous of. It was a precious, unexpected thing, and not something they wished to lose.

Neither of them, however, wanted the burden of causing someone else pain, and whether they liked to admit it or not, they knew their closeness would cause Beverly just that, even though she denied wanting that closeness for herself.

 Therese sat a moment thinking these thoughts before saying, "Counselor, Jean Luc and I, we have known each other a long, long time. I know how long he has cared for Beverly. I do not compete for those feelings."

"For you, there is also someone else," Deanna said, realizing it as she spoke the words.

Therese nodded, unsurprised at the Counselor's perception. "Yes, but, as with Jean Luc..." She didn't finish her thought, and her words hung in the air between them until she added, "Sometimes I think we are lucky to find that one person in the universe we fall 'in' love with. At other times, I believe a fate that allows that to happen is very unkind indeed."

"But if you're both in love with someone else...?"

Therese didn't let Deanna finish her question. Instead, she said kindly, "Perhaps we have reached the stage -or age- where 'in love' is not so important as loving and being loved."

"What about the woman he's 'in' love with?"

Therese paused to take a drink of the bluish tinted beverage she had ordered when she had come in. She winced, and looking at Deanna muttered, "Ugh, Jean Luc warned me..."

Placing the glass back on the table in front of her, she said, "You know, I have watched the two of them, and have asked myself the same question: What about her?" She stopped to think, choosing her words carefully. "Since I have arrived here, this is what I have seen: they are in love with each other, but she wants the love to be somewhere on the sidelines, an unspoken, unadmitted part of their lives that she can ignore when it pleases her to, and for which she does not have to take responsibility for. If she were to take responsibility, I would be very happy."

She looked directly at Deanna, her eyes narrowing a bit when she saw the counselor's surprise as she sensed the truth of Therese's words. "Yes, Counselor, I would be happy, because I want what is best for Jean Luc." Gesturing with both her hands, she said, "I know that I am not the best person for him if Beverly makes herself available. But she hasn't, and isn't; nor does she seem likely to. And so," she said, spreading her hands apart expressively, "I am the one to make him happy, the one to give him a safe, secure place to express his love. I want that love, and want to give it back in return. I take responsibility for that. It is not a bad thing, Counselor."

Deanna sat watching her, hating what she was hearing.

Therese stared sightlessly into the air. It felt strange to be talking of such personal matters to an almost-stranger, but it also felt good.

"No one should have to be alone."

Therese's words stood in the air between them a moment before she continued, "He wants to be a part of someone else. He is a captain, yes, but that should not preclude him being a man. He stopped allowing himself emotional ties -at least, with anyone who would seriously work out. That is wrong."

Deanna began to protest, "There have been instances..."

Again Therese nodded, but broke into the younger woman's words. "Yes, you could speak of Vash or Nella, or even that Kamala person, but none of them were Beverly."

Surprised he had been so thorough in his revelations to Therese, Deanna uttered a soft challenge: "And neither are you."

"No," Therese agreed in a low voice, "and neither am I."

"And he was doing all right before you came."

Therese shook her head emphatically and leaned forward. Pointing a finger at Deanna, she said, "That is where you are wrong." She moved back into her chair, and said, "He said almost those exact words to me the first day I was on the ship. I knew better than to accept them. He appeared to be doing 'all right' as you say, only because you do not know the man he was before. Since becoming captain of this ship, Jean Luc has become a sad, lonely, distant man. You do not sense that box he has built around himself? You do not see the doubt he sometimes has when dealing with people? The pain he feels because he always seems to get it wrong with Beverly?"

She took a sip of her drink, winced again, and continued trying to make Deanna understand. "After I had been on board a while, I realized that none of you really know *him*. Even when you call him 'Jean Luc', your voices are really saying 'captain', because that is the only side of him he has ever let you see. I am sorry, but he is more than that. I bring it out, I had hoped Beverly would too. She does not."

She paused and finished the last of her drink. Looking across the table at the counselor, she allowed some of her dislike of Beverly Crusher to show, saying firmly, "Eight years is long enough a torture for the sin of loving her. I think perhaps it is time for it to stop."

"You see yourself as some kind of savior?" The words were ice pick sharp.

Therese looked at the Counselor steadily, unwounded. "No. Jean Luc is saving himself. Or perhaps we save each other, yes? The lines, they are too fine to see distinctly. I know that I have reminded him of what real-life relationships are. And, I think, we have reminded each other that some love stays constant, even while other love disappoints..."

Deanna heard the door to Ten Forward open. Looking up, she knew the conversation to be at an end. She watched as Jean Luc Picard entered and paused just inside the entrance. Standing habitually erect and confident, an aura of contentment reached out softly in front of him, warming Deanna in spite of herself. She watched as his eyes slowly surveyed the room until they lit upon Therese. Smiling, he headed toward their table.

Chapter 8

It was almost as dark inside as it was outside.

She had thought perhaps there would be comfort in that, but had found none. Sitting silently in her quarters, she looked about her, seeing the faint outline of furniture and of plants on the table, and wondered where the time had gone, what she had done with it. Drawing her knees up and hugging them with her arms, she rested her chin on them.

Irresistibly, her thoughts returned to Jean Luc. She was certain he was going to take the admiralty position and leave. The very thought of that filled her with dread, but the growing conviction that her worst fear was true had become increasingly difficult to ignore. Also difficult to ignore was the knowledge that, if she failed to say something to him now, her worst nightmare would come true again, and she would be left alone once more.

She adjusted her chin more comfortably on her knee and closed her eyes. The past few weeks had been hell. She missed him: missed their conversations, missed hearing his gently modulated voice saying...anything. Most of all, though, she missed knowing that he cared about her, that he wanted her with him, that she *mattered* to him in a special way. She had lost that feeling, and it frightened her. Tightening the grip around her legs, she closed her eyes tightly. She had to go to him. It was time they talked.

It was time she let him know *he* mattered to her.

She exhaled softly, trying to contain the exaltation the realization elicited in her. It was time. No more taking the future for granted, no more putting off to tomorrow what they could have today. No more running....

  * * *

Beverly knew it was early, knew that he would not even have begun to prepare breakfast yet, but she could not bear to wait any longer. Up all night wondering, planning, rehearsing what she would say, she needed to put waiting to rest. Using her medical emergency override to let herself in, she planned to have breakfast on the table by the time he got up.

The door opened, and she caught Jean Luc, still in his night clothes, just as he was entering the living area from the bedroom. //Well,// she thought, //at least I didn't wake him.//

Picard stopped short. Standing there, watching her, he felt his life, his hope, and his not-quite-erased dreams come crashing down around him, shards of them laying thick about his feet. It was his fate; no matter which way he moved now, he would be cut to the bone.

And so, God forgive him, would she....

All his self assurance that he had moved on, that he had left his feelings for Beverly tucked somewhere safely away, was exposed as the lie it was. And yes, dammit, he knew she cared for him, knew this was going to hurt her, and, god help him, forever prevent any hope of their ever...He closed his eyes tightly. Not like this. It shouldn't happen like this...

"Beverly..." he began.

"Jean Luc," she said, slightly breathless, "I'm sorry for being so early, and for barging in like this, but I've been up all night, and before I lose courage once again, there's something..."

"Jean Luc?"

Beverly turned her head towards the bedroom at this unexpected interruption. Therese, fresh from her shower, her hair damp and tousled and holding a towel around herself, emerged through the doors.

"Cherie, I cannot find..." She stopped when she saw a second person standing, frozen, by the doorway. With a sharp inhalation of breath she turned startled, apologetic eyes toward Picard. "Jean Luc! Mon Dieu! I am sorry, I did not know..."

Picard heard Therese's voice but did not respond, his eyes still glued to Beverly. With a surreal sense of the inevitability of this tragedy, he stood immobile. "Beverly..." he began again, though he had no idea what to say.

He watched as Beverly stood frozen, shock keeping her immobilized while understanding of what she was witnessing washed over her.

She began to back towards the door, her eyes darting between Jean Luc in his night clothes, and Therese, in her towel. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice trembling, "I didn't know I'd be interrupting..."

The door swished open and she escaped.

"Beverly!" Picard began to follow her, desperate to lessen the hurt he had seen in her eyes.

Therese reached out and held his arm, preventing him from leaving.

"No, Cherie. Wait. You will not be able to reason with her now. We will speak with her later, yes? Perhaps we can explain. After she has calmed down."

The magnitude of what had just happened, the pain he would feel because of Beverly's reaction, filled her. Therese looked up at him, and said softly, "I'm sorry, Cherie, so sorry...I never thought...I should never...."

Picard saw the worry and regret in her eyes, knew she was blaming herself for this, and could not allow it. Saying nothing, he folded her into his arms, wondering if the hollowness he felt would ever leave. He wanted to chase after Beverly, to tell her he loved her and that he would always love her, and that Therese was his friend, his comfort...and his lover because, having no hope for anything else, they had found solace in each other.

But he did not.

He held Therese tightly, taking her breath away, and forced himself to remain where he was. It was inevitable, he thought: the time would never be right, they would always do this to one another. And this, he was sure, was the final indication; there would be no reconciliation after this. Finding him with Therese spelled the end. She would see this as vastly different from his relationships with Nella or Vash. This had been something done in secret, something hidden...and something with history. He had deceived her, and that deception would not be readily forgiven or forgotten.

Tightening his arms around Therese, he closed his eyes. He had to forget what he would never have. He had made his decision, and stood by it, but regret over what had just occurred tore at him. It was his fault she had been so hurt. Seeing Beverly....he inhaled deeply. //No.// He needed more than she was willing to offer. He had to leave, had to start a life that included sharing and loving without apologies or hesitation...

Therese raised her head, a new worry in her eyes. "This is not your fault, Jean Luc. She made her choice and we made ours based on that choice. She discovered this in a manner not of our choosing, and for that I am sorry, but..."

He shook his head and drew her close again, resting his chin on the top of her still-damp hair. "Let's not talk about it right now, Therese. You've got to finish dressing, and I've got the staff meeting in an hour. Let's get ourselves ready."

 She moved away slightly and looked at him uncertainly, uncomfortable with his response. He was, she thought, too calm, too resigned. She knew he would have this with him a long time, and she wanted to talk. Reluctantly, however, she nodded, allowing him his way. Resting her forehead against the side of his face, she said, "It'll work out, Jean Luc, just give everything time."

//I will talk to her,// she thought silently,//one last time.// And tried to ignore the feeling of futility that washed over her at the thought of such an attempt.

 * * *

Beverly, heading for the refuge of her quarters, exited the turbolift on her deck. Her knees were quivering with shock and she was finding it difficult to regulate her breathing. Leaning against the wall of the corridor, she tried to slow her breaths and control the shock that made her tremble so.

Riker, on his way to the bridge, chose this moment to round the corner. Seeing Beverly slumped against the wall, her hand on her chest and her face colorless, he rushed over to her.

"Beverly? What's wrong?" he asked.

She looked up, her eyes unfocused, then straightened slightly. "I'm fine, Will," she said, still breathing oddly.

"You are not," he said firmly.

She gave him a smile that wavered at the corners, and refused to look him in the eye. "Just give me a moment, then, and I will be. I'm just on my way to my quarters. I'll be okay once I'm there."

"In that case, I'll go with you." He took her arm and started towards her rooms. Knowing it was pointless to argue, she allowed him to usher her along.

When they arrived at her door and it opened, he followed her in.

"You're shaking; this is serious. What's wrong?"

She turned and he was shocked to see tears streaming silently down her cheeks. //My God...,// he thought, //Her eyes...//

Quickly, he strode across the room and enveloped her in his arms, alarm and a sense of helplessness coursing through him.

Knowing who she always turned to, he asked, "Would you like me to call the captain?"

When she shook her head abruptly and a sob escaped from her, he began to feel afraid. Beverly Crusher never, never, broke down. He had seen her in plenty of circumstances that made many weep, but she had always held on. Even when their attempt to rescue the captain from the Borg had failed, and she had been sure he was gone...nothing had shaken her inner strength. What had happened now?

"Beverly, is Wesley all right?"

Her head nodded against his chest.

He stood there, holding her for a long time. Gradually, he felt her relax and her breathing return to normal. She lifted her head and took a small step backwards, so he dropped his arms.

Still looking straight at his chest, in an almost inaudible voice, she said to herself, "I'velosthim, ohmygoditsover, whatwillIdoI'velosthim."

"What?" he asked, not understanding her whispered, quickly spoken words.

Blue eyes holding a world of loss and pain were raised to meet his.

"I've lost him," she repeated, then turned away from him, to stare out the window.

"Lost who?" Riker asked her, feeling totally out of step with whatever was happening. There had been no patients in sickbay, at least not that he was aware of, and certainly not anyone in danger of dying...

She did not move or respond for a long moment. He watched her back as she slowly straightened her posture.

When she turned, he was shocked at the change in her. Cool, emotionless blue eyes met his questioning ones. The ravages of her tears were still evident on her face, but a brittle smile curved her lips.

"I'm sorry," she said, exhaling softly, "It really is nothing. I'm over it now. I was just being silly. I let something catch me off-guard, that's all. Thanks for being here..."

"But..."

"Really, Will." Her voice became harder, telling him she would brook no argument now. "I've got to have some time alone to think, okay? I'm just over-emotional at the moment. I know I'm being unfair, but I can't talk about it right now."

Riker knew it would be impossible to help unless she let him, and though this change in her demeanor frightened him even more than her earlier tears, there was little he could do but leave...

...And head for Deanna's quarters.

Chapter 9

Riker stopped his pacing long enough to say, "Deanna, I can't even describe it. The way she turned icy after crying like that...something's really wrong."

Riker was in the counselor's quarters, where Deanna, still in her night clothes and a robe, patiently watched him walk to and fro, knowing he needed activity to burn off the energy that always surged through him when he was faced with a crisis. And what he'd experienced with Beverly earlier he classed as a crisis of the worst kind - the kind he wasn't sure how to handle and in retrospect felt he had handled poorly.

Deanna had sensed some of what Riker described telepathically as it had happened - and, considering the cacophony of emotion emanating from the two occupants of Picard's quarters, she had a rough idea of what had caused Beverly's breakdown - but she remained silent, allowing Riker to continue.

"I felt so bloody useless..." he gestured with both hands helplessly, "...and she wouldn't tell me what the problem was, wouldn't let me call the captain to be with her...didn't want anything, in the end, but to be left alone: 'to think' she said." He shook his head, "I dunno, Deanna, it's not right."

Deanna nodded. That sounded like Beverly, all right. She didn't break down often, but when she did, she invariably took time to regroup and think it out, not emerging until she could act as though everything was fine, whether it was or not.

"It will take Beverly a while to get over this, and you know she likes to work out her emotions on her own."

"That's part of the problem: there *weren't* any emotions when I left. It was eerie..."

Recollecting her words, he stopped and turned abruptly to face Deanna. "Get over what? You know what this is all about?"

"I believe so. In part, at least."

"Can you talk about what you know?" His voice was quieter in tone with this question, his eyes telling her he understood if she couldn't. He was always professional about - and deferential to - her position as ship's Counselor and the privileged information that sometimes placed her in a precarious position with her friends. She blessed him for it.

This was one of those times she was uncertain what to do, and so she hesitated. There was a fine line between being the crew's Counselor on a ship and being friends with some of the ship's crew you happened to be Counselor on. She walked that line every day, but it was during these crises that her ability to balance became critical. While she was still considering her reply, Riker suddenly stopped his pacing.

Forgetting about her own reply, Deanna felt more than saw realization wash over him. She had no way of knowing that what had preceded it was his mental image of Beverly, her voice strained and full of despair saying: "I've lost him."

His next words were more statement than question: "This has to do with Therese Winthrop and the captain, doesn't it?"

Deanna nodded. "You know the captain and Beverly have always had a special relationship..."

He broke into her words: "I hate that phrase. They're in love - there's no other way of putting it. They're just too stupid to act on it."

Deanna almost smiled. Trust Will to cut straight to the heart of the matter...when it involved someone else's heart.

"Yes, well, that's one way of putting it...but you are also aware that he and Therese Winthrop are very close."

Riker nodded and grinned in spite of himself. "Of course. It's the best gossip this ship's had in months. It's nice to see him with an old friend, and a little reliving of old times seems to have done him a world of good." He looked puzzled when he added: "But why would Beverly get upset now? We'll be in orbit around Earth in a couple of days and Therese will be disembarking. We'll leave, and our lives will go back to normal."

"Perhaps this time there is more to it." she suggested in a quiet voice.

He stared at her in shock, the ramifications of what she said stilling his constant movement: "Oh no, Deanna. No way." He shook his head and started pacing again. Crossing behind where she sat, he continued talking, as much to himself as to her: "There's no way he's in love with Therese! They're old friends, everyone knows that. It's Beverly and the captain who have been dancing around each other since she got on the ship eight years ago. Captain Picard wouldn't have stopped loving her this suddenly..."

"'Suddenly', Will?"

He looked up, surprised at the interruption. "Well, yes. Winthrop's only been on board a few months. Certainly not long enough for him to make any long term decisions that would upset Beverly like this..."

"As you said, she and the captain are old friends. They've known each other a very long time."

"Exactly." he said, leaping on her words, "*Too* long to suddenly fall in love now, no matter *how* intimate they are."

Deanna smiled at his reasoning. Harking back to her conversation with Therese, she said: "Maybe that's not what either of them is looking for."

He felt uncertain where she was taking the conversation, unsure of the point she was trying to make, but he nodded slowly. "I suppose it always boils down to what you want."

"Or need. I would say the captain is finding what he needs with someone he's cared for most of his life. He's reached the point now where he feels a need to be in a close relationship with someone. It's not the same kind of relationship he'd have had with Beverly, but it's a warm, loving one without all the complications he's had to deal with in his situation with her." She shifted her position in order to look at Riker directly. "It's very good for him," she added reasonably, a part of her glad that it was so, another part of her hating the truth of it.

Feeling the doctor needed a champion, Riker commented. "Not so good for Beverly."

A shadow crossed the counselor's face. "Not at the moment, no. She'll have to work that out for herself," she lifted her eyes to meet Riker's and added: "With me, if she'll allow it. Something tells me, though, that she'll try getting through this alone. All we can do is whatever she'll let us do."

Neither spoke for a moment. Heaving a sigh, Riker collapsed into a chair, his energy suddenly spent. "I bothers me, Deanna. It's just not the way it was supposed to be, you know?"

Deanna nodded. "When the captain finished that experience with 'Q', he told us one possible future. I think we took for granted we'd avoid the things we didn't want to happen - like you and Worf hating each other - and that the things we would like to happen - such as the captain and Beverly marrying one day - eventually *would* happen. Now it appears we're living another future completely."

They sat in companionable silence. Finally, Riker spoke, his words slow and thoughtful: "I'm glad for the captain. You can tell he's happy, and he deserves to be. Lieutenant Winthrop is a fine person. I don't begrudge them their happiness." He paused a beat, catching his breath and letting out in a rush before adding: "I am upset about what this is doing to Beverly, though..."

They were both in agreement with that.

Finally, Riker rose to leave. "I'm late for my shift. Good thing I was trying to get an early start on things today - I'm only an hour or so behind!"

Deanna rose and followed him to the door. The doors hadn't yet closed behind him when he turned in the hallway and said: "..and Deanna?"

"Yes?"

"Don't wait for her to come to you, okay?"

Deanna nodded and sighed. She knew better than to do that.

* * *

She sat much as she had a lifetime ago, legs drawn up to her chest, chin on her knees. She'd collected herself after Riker left, made it through the senior staff meeting that morning, managing to avoid Deanna's troubled looks and Jean Luc's silent plea to speak with him...and she had made it through the first part of her shift - until Ogawa, worried by her paleness and apparent distraction, had suggested if she weren't feeling well perhaps she should call it an early day and get some rest.

The doctor's readiness to follow her suggestion confirmed Ogawa's suspicion that Beverly was feeling even worse than she was letting on. She sincerely hoped it wasn't that D'Nathian 'flu...

At first, Beverly had genuinely felt physically ill. The suppressed shock of the morning's events had made her stomach churn, and bile rise in her throat. But then, as the shock wore off, small, insidious voices began their interminable mutterings, prodding her with their little accusations, their tiny, sharp doubts, pricking her with regrets and pushing her closer to a realization she didn't feel ready to acknowledge. Which made her feel ill in a totally different way.

She tried not to listen, tried until she was ready to scream, so desperate was she not to think, not to hear what the nagging little whispers were asking her to consider. When Ogawa had suggested she leave, she had accepted with almost embarrassing alacrity, needing the refuge of her quarters and its protective solitude. And still the soft mutters pushed her closer to thinking that...

She left, heading to her rooms where she could wonder what she had done wrong, what she had misinterpreted, where things had gotten so out of hand...

And tried not to listen to the worrying little voices...

But once in her quarters, Beverly had no choice but to battle with the persistent little demons of doubt as they murmured to her. Never had they plagued her as they did now: not when she'd discovered Vash in Jean Luc's quarters at breakfast,(ANYONE, she thought, could see that *that* was a short term fling...), or even when he'd had the brief affair with that cold fish of a woman, Nella. But now they moved, whispering, pushing her, picking at her, skittering into her thoughts, refusing to be ignored. Persistent, growing increasingly demanding, the doubts muttered their verdict, forcing her to consider something she'd never considered before:

Perhaps Therese was better for him.

She moved restlessly, refusing the thought. Rising, she went to the window and looked out, watching as faraway stars sailed by. "Odd," she thought, trying to distract herself with ordinary thoughts,"how we think of *them* as sailing by when it's really us..."

But those nagging little voices would not quiet...

It was a hard thing to admit, and she struggled valiantly, resisting, seeking a way out. Always, before, she had known that she was best for him, known that she was the one who brought out the gentleness, the humor, the warmth in his nature that no one else did. She had been his confidant, his ally, his friend. And she had always known that in the long run, time and Jean Luc's good sense would win out over momentary passion, and that his focus would always return to her and their friendship and it's overt potential of more that they still tip-toed around.

Perhaps Therese was better for him.

She put a hands to her head as the long list of reasons scrolled in her thoughts...Therese knew him better...knew him longer...drew him out of his self-imposed exile, gentled him, warmed him...strengthened him...loved him in a way she didn't understand...

...Or hadn't until now...

...Perhaps Therese *was* better for him.

She shuddered as, pushed into it against her will, the realization of it washed over her.

She pressed her forehead to the viewport, imagining that the coolness of space touched her brow, wondering all the while if the thoughts running through her head were borne of momentary panic or were indeed a final, cool statement of fact.

The small, calm part of her brain knew that this time was no ill-suited, momentary passion: no brief, though necessary, release of emotion he only rarely allowed himself. Here was a woman with not only a history with Jean Luc but, as this morning's episode indicated, a present.

And he hadn't followed her. Oh God, why hadn't he followed her?

The pain of the thought ripped at her gut, and she pressed both palms against the viewport for support as a tear trickled down her cheek.

He hadn't followed her, hadn't tried to explain. Her very soul cried with the pain of that.

How could she have not noticed the warning signs? How could she have thought that it was not serious, that it would be over when Therese left the ship, that time was on her side as it had always been?

She was losing him...had lost him...She hated Therese for that, hated her for so easily loving him and looking after him...

Her door chime chirped. She ignored it, guessing who it might be, knowing it wasn't who she wanted it to be.

Insistent, the chirping repeated itself.

Turning to look at the offending door,she muttered: "Go away," knowing that the person wouldn't.

Again the door chime sounded. Frustrated, knowing that it would only continue sounding until she was ready to pull her hair out, she turned back to look out at the stars and uttered an angry: "Come, then!"

The door opened and she watched Deanna's reflection as she stepped inside. Though she'd known it would be her all along, Beverly still felt a surge of disappointment and loneliness as another little hope died.

Deanna said no word of greeting, merely walked over and sat down in the chair she always used in Beverly's quarters. Curling her feet beneath her comfortably, she sat and waited patiently.

Beverly stopped looking at the reflection and refocused on distant stars, ignoring Deanna's presence.

Several long moments passed.

"I hate it when you do this."

Troi smiled. "I know, but I can't help myself."

"It's compulsive behavior, perhaps you should talk to someone about it."

"Good idea. But first I'd like to talk about other things."

Beverly turned towards her guest with a sigh and crossed to the replicator. "Want anything?"

Deanna nodded, knowing Beverly's penchant for food, drink, and talk. "The usual, please."

Surprising her, Beverly replicated only drinks for them - something chocolate for Troi, and a lemon tea for herself.

After passing Deanna hers, she moved to her place on the sofa, and sat with her back resting against the arm of it, her long legs stretching out across it.

Beverly held her cup in both hands, and sipped her tea. She didn't want to talk...Her natural tendency was to resist, to keep her thoughts and hurts and questions to herself. Troi knew this...So if Deanna was here, she obviously felt there was a need to put this morass of emotion into words. Beverly cringed. Deanna was like a pit bull when she decided someone needed to 'talk': a persistent, stubborn, gentle, understanding pit bull no one could deny. Deanna would be here until she got what she wanted. Beverly sighed.

Troi felt the emotional byplay and smiled. "Stop it, Beverly. It won't hurt you any more to talk about it than it will to keep it in - less perhaps. Why not tell me what happened?

"Will didn't tell you?"

"Of course he did: what he knew, anyways. You had him worried, Beverly, and he had no idea what the problem was."

"But you do."

"I've made a guess..."

Beverly raised haunted eyes. "You know, I think maybe I could have handled it if I'd known that they were sleeping together." She turned her head towards Deanna and raised questioning eyes: "Is it weird I didn't clue into that? Why didn't I expect it? Because she's so much older than me? Because they were 'friends'?" She shrugged her shoulders, "In retrospect, why would I have thought anything else? I mean, it's not like he hasn't slept with other women since I've been here...but to see her there, so damn 'at home', just out of the shower and in a *towel*, for heaven's sake. And him still in his nightclothes..."

She shuddered. Even amid all this turmoil, she still could feel the raw surge of sensuality seeing him like that could evoke from her.

Deanna smiled inwardly - she'd felt that particular surge many times from Beverly when she thought certain thoughts - but sobered quickly. Beverly seemed unusually willing to talk, but she'd have to tread carefully.

She still didn't have a clear idea of what had happened, but from the disjointed picture she was putting together, Beverly had gone to Picard's quarters early and caught him and Therese together. It still didn't add up to the hurt and distress Beverly had felt. She had expected Beverly to brazen through a scenario like that: she had with Vash and had laughed about it.

"But that wasn't why you reacted so strongly, Beverly."

Beverly shook her head and Deanna stiffened as a wave of the desolation the other woman was feeling hit her. She felt the strength of Beverly's urge not to continue, then sensed it being overwhelmed by a greater need to vocalize, and in doing so help exorcize this debacle.

"No, it was because.." She took a breath and plunged, "...I'd decided to tell him I didn't want him to leave the ship for the Admiralty job - unless something could be found for me planet side as well." She raised hurt eyes to meet Deanna's, then bent her head back to look at the cooling tea she still held in her hands. "I wanted to tell him I'd been up all night realizing that I couldn't bear the thought of being away from him and that it was time..."

She stopped abruptly.

Deanna leaned forward. The knowledge of the offer of an Admiralty was new to her - obviously Picard was keeping it confidential until he made a decision - but she was more interested in Beverly at the moment. Knowing that nothing she could say would ease Beverly's pain, her soft voice moaned: "Oh, Beverly, I'm so sorry..."

Beverly nodded, still looking down at the teacup. "It's rather ironic, eh? I finally decide it's time, and he's finally decided to move on..."

Abruptly, she placed the cup on the coffee table and rose, only to wander aimlessly, picking up a vase she'd bought on Virna'th IX, moving to a small hologram of her and Wesley, then over to a desk where she idly picked browning leaves off a plant...

Finally, Deanna asked: "Why are you so sure he's moving on? Might not this be like one of the relationship's he's had in the past?"

Beverly shook her head. "No. I trust me first instinct, and I had plenty of time to figure it all out today."

Walking back to the sofa, she sat down, clasping her hands in front of her. "He's going to accept that Admiralty and Therese will be with him. They'll leave this ship together, Deanna, and stay together. This isn't a fling, it's a long term relationship renewed and confirmed. They've decided on a future, I can just feel it."

"Then perhaps you should talk to him."

Beverly smiled. "You always think people should talk. Why is that?"

Deanna recognized the question as rhetorical and responded with a question of her own: "Then you will allow him to go without knowing how you feel?"

The little voices that had plagued her all afternoon prodded and pushed, muttering encouragement, urging her on...

Beverly nodded. "There's no need for him to know."

The voices, not satisfied, increased their demands, pricking her, prodding her until her blurted out: "She's better for him than I am. Look how happy he is now, how content and sure of their relationship he is. He never had that with me. She completes him, Deanna."

She paused, sensing that the voices were almost satisfied, almost at rest...

"But he does love you, Beverly."

Beverly nodded again. "I know. But it's caused him more grief than joy, hasn't it? Perhaps it's time I let him have some happiness."

The voices waited expectantly.

"I can't take this away from him when I can't replace it with something better. I can't."

The voices cheered and eased their pressure on her, quietening to give her rest.

She looked at Deanna, her eyes almost calm, and repeated her words: "I can't replace it with something better. To take what he has with Therese away..." she smiled, still showing some of the fight she was famous for "...and I believe I could, Deanna, if I tried...to take that away would be wrong."

"But you said you were ready..." Deanna began.

"Yes, but I can't guarantee I could replace what he has! There'd still be all that fumbling we always do with each other emotionally. And who knows if it would ultimately work out? What if what we feel is more because it hasn't been acted upon than because it has real substance? I won't risk that. I love him, and for the first time I can give him something that no one else can: his freedom to be loved by someone else."

Deanna recognized this for the grand sacrifice it was, recognized that Beverly had decided to martyr her own happiness for the sake of Picard's.

She also recognized that by doing so, Beverly once again gave herself permission to withdraw emotionally from the one man who could stop her from doing so.

It was a tangled mess, and Deanna found herself unable to argue...either as a friend or a Counselor. There would have to be more conversations, more understanding.

But Deanna still couldn't help but clasp that small, hard, kernel of hope that it would all work out...

Chapter 10

Jean Luc, tired of the questioning looks from Riker and the worried ones from Troi, had taken refuge in his ready room shortly after the senior staff meeting. He had been relieved that, all things considered, it had gone so well. A small hope that Beverly might allow him the opportunity to speak with her had quickly been dashed, however; several minutes before the end of the meeting she had excused herself, citing an equipment problem in sick bay. He had guessed it to be the fabrication it was, but understanding her need, had allowed her escape. There would be time to talk with her.

Now he sat at his desk feeling a little trapped. The _Enterprise_ was peacefully on its way back to earth, so there was no mission to prepare for, no crises to be dealt with. The day spread out in front of him as one long, dismal exercise in maintaining routine - and avoiding the stares from the two concerned people out on the bridge: Riker, who belonged there, and Deanna Troi, who, for some mysterious reason did not have appointments booked that morning, and so chose to sit on the bridge and 'watch' him.

Of more concern, however, was the knowledge that he had to sort out, before evening, how he felt about the morning's catastrophe. Dealing with it definitely took precedence, but, he thought, shooting a resentful glance toward his ready room door, avoiding the two outside ran a close second.

He sighed, seeing no escape until the end of shift. Then, he and Therese had arranged to meet. He needed to talk it over, needed her input. But *until* then...

Restlessly, he walked to the replicator for his third cup of tea. It, too, would no doubt end up cold and barely touched, but at least it provided him with an excuse for movement.

As the beverage appeared, so did an idea. He was, after all, the captain...

He turned, ignoring the steaming cup of Earl Grey, and went to his desk to punch up information on the console. Reading the schedule he had called up, he nodded to himself, then strode purposefully out of his ready room. Without pausing, he walked up the ramp to the lift doors and instructed as he passed by, "Commander Riker, you have the bridge. I will be in holodeck two, if you should need me."

Riker lifted his eyebrows in surprise, and had time to only nod and say, "Yes, sir," before the turbolift doors closed behind his commanding officer.

He sent an enquiring look Troi's way. She glanced towards where Picard had just disappeared, then turned back to the Commander and shrugged wordlessly.

 * * *

A short time after leaving the bridge, Picard stepped into his holoprogram. It had been a long time since he had made use of this particular scenario, and he could not help but be pleased at how it suited his mood. Large, black, bulky vehicles splashed dirty rainwater from their tyres as they honked their way down the busy city street. Tall gray and grimy buildings, most of their windows darkened and grimly reflecting the dull yellow glow of ancient streetlights, loomed close over narrow sidewalks filled with women wielding umbrellas and men rushing purposefully, folded newspapers held over their heads as shields against the insistent rain.

As large raindrops slowly darkened his fedora and the shoulders of his trenchcoat, Picard stood and inhaled deeply. The smell of dirty exhaust and a street vendor's roasted chestnuts caught at the back of his throat. It felt good. Turning his collar up against the dampness, he felt a surge of satisfaction and turned towards his destination.

He had taken only a few steps when he heard, "Hey Dix! I didn't see yer there! Don't know how yer manage t'jus' drop out of nowhere like that! Whadaya bin up to?"

Harry, the newspaper man, smiled at him from amidst his papers. He was a fixture on this corner, his wizened features happy, his hat always pulled down low over his forehead, protecting his faded blue eyes from the sun or rain or wind.

Walking over to the newsstand, Picard said, "Not much. How's business?"

Harry grinned knowingly. "Good enough. I'll let yer have a paper on tab, if yer need."

Picard smiled at the man's never-ending generosity. Patting his pockets, he said, "I do seem to have arrived without the necessary currency..."

Harry laughed and handed Picard a paper. "You're funny, Dix, but that's why I likes yer. Yer kin get me next time, pal."

Taking the paper, Picard tucked it under his arm, nodded his thanks and resumed his unhurried walk in the rain...

He opened the inner door to his office, with its "Dixon Hill, Private Investigator" lettering, with satisfaction. Having sent the secretary home for the afternoon, he now had the place blessedly to himself. Closing the door, he paused to look around and gave a contented sigh. Everything was as it had been when he had last left: the blinds were open, slats still covered with a thick layer of grimy dust. What little glow from the street lights they allowed into the room only seemed to increase the gloom of the cramped and cluttered office. Walking to his desk, he turned on the low desk lamp, then slumped into the chair waiting behind it. Leaning back, he swung his feet onto the desk and sighed. Perhaps here he could think.

He loosened his tie slowly, then reached into the inside breast pocket of his suit jacket and took out a small flask. Twisting off the metal cap, he tilted his head back and took a long swallow, grimacing as some of the 'real stuff' burned its way down his throat. He stared at the flask, its worn, bronzed sides dully gleaming in the lamp light. He felt grateful for Guinan's gift - though how she had known to find him and give it to him moments before he entered this program, he had no idea.

"It's real. Drink it, but don't drink it all at once. And don't rely on it to give you the answers - it won't," she had said, as she passed it to him and silently continued down the corridor.

He exhaled slowly. It felt good to be alone. He felt tension ease out of him as the darkness of the room enveloped him, welcoming him back. Taking another long drink, he lay his head back and let his mind begin to deal with the problem at hand...

 * * *

Therese sat in her office, piles of data padds to each side of her. She had spent most of the day looking at them, knowing even as she did that she would have to go through the whole process again tomorrow; she couldn't recall one single thing she had read so far that morning.

Her office door was closed, and the staff had taken this subtle request for privacy to heart, leaving her in complete solitude for the past three hours. She wondered if perhaps she should get up and open it, just for the relief from her thoughts an interruption would bring her. Looking at the door, she silently wished it open. When it failed to move, she sighed. It was too much trouble to get up and work the controls. //Fine,// she said to herself, //alone with my thoughts it will be...//

She ran fingers through her hair, brushing a couple of annoying strands off her forehead, and sighed. It was hard not to sit here and wonder how Jean Luc was doing. At one point, she had almost called him, but had then thought better of it. He would need space after this morning's events, time to adjust, time to work it out before she could ask him to speak of it. They had arranged to meet; she could wait until then.

As for herself, she had spent some time that morning examining her own feelings. It had been a shock to see how distraught Beverly had been at discovering she and Jean Luc were lovers. She had known it would bother her - but had not expected the look of loss, of horror, of a life falling apart, that she had witnessed. Nothing in the seven or eight months that she had spent on the _Enterprise_ had led her to believe that Beverly's feelings for Picard went that deep. Indeed, Therese had thought Picard was to Beverly what a prized pet was to a proud owner. Loved, wanted near...but not too close, certainly not something you slept with and shared your life with. How had she so misjudged the depth of the woman's feelings? And why had the woman kept those feelings so hidden? She could understand Jean Luc hiding his: Beverly had rejected him in no uncertain terms...but why had Beverly?

And Jean Luc...she sighed, rested her elbow on the desk and placed her chin in the palm of her hand. With her eyes still on the PADD she held in the other hand, she replayed in her mind once again the look of despair on his face as his life crashed down around him.

She frowned at the PADD, and, determined to at least look busy, punched a couple buttons uselessly and again exhaled heavily. In choosing to become lovers again, he had indicated that he was moving away from Beverly, just as she was slowly removing herself from her feelings for Henri. It was obvious from this morning that he had not moved as far away as either of them had believed.

She cringed at the thought.

She tossed the PADD she was holding onto the pile on the left of her desk and picked up another from the pile on her right. Staring at it sightlessly, her mind continued to wrap itself around this constantly changing problem.

What did she want to do about today?

What did Jean Luc want?

And what the hell did Beverly want?

She wondered again how he was doing as she carefully placed the PADD down to her left and picked up another from her right.

 * * *

Warmed by the liquor, Jean Luc examined his life, letting his mind wander over what he had accomplished...and what he still wanted to accomplish. He knew that his career record was exemplary, that it was held up as a standard to be emulated and envied. He also had learned the hollowness of such an accomplishment when one's personal life was empty. He had done what he had so far as only half a man, driven by some demon to always push away, always seek refuge in an emotional solitude that seemed to protect and preserve him. Beverly had been the exception, the one mature, emotional entanglement he had never been able to leave behind - that constant reminder of what could be. And what, he reminded himself, was not ever likely *to* be.

Over the past couple of years, this reminder had left him feeling increasingly empty. Therese had filled that emptiness, cajoled him into reaching out, into trusting his feelings, allowing him to acknowledge his need for warmth, caring and companionship beyond breakfasts and the occasional dinner.

He tapped his fingers on the desk in a slow, steady beat. He had to make a decision. Torn between dismay over what had happened and relief that it was finally in the open, he realized one thing; standing out for him now, in shocking relief, were all the ramifications of his decision. He had one last chance to fully contemplate what leaving the Enterprise with Therese would mean. And what remaining onboard with Beverly would mean.

A deciding factor would be his own emotional security, and when he started to think things over, he realized that he had never known what Beverly expected of him, and had never felt comfortable with that not knowing. Once he and Therese had become lovers, he had recognized a sense of relief, a pleasant sense of security in knowing where he stood and what his future would be, that he had never managed to have with Beverly. He did not blame her for that any more than he blamed himself, but it was a reality.

And it was a damning one. He did not think he could face the torment of continuing to live with that shaky ground of unknowing he would have under his feet if he remained onboard.

What would he have if he remained? More years of waiting, hoping against hope?

...But leaving with Therese would signal the end of whatever hope lay hidden in his heart that perhaps *one* day,...

He stopped his thoughts abruptly. He had his answer.

The sounds of traffic outside slowly made its way into his consciousness. It was a steady, lulling drone that matched the surety of his decision. His path was chosen. Whether he was running away or running towards, he could not have said. Perhaps they were one and the same, but at least he would no longer be waiting to decide.

  * * *

Picard was in his quarters when Therese arrived back from her poorly- spent day in Chemical Sciences. Reaching up to kiss him, she stopped before her lips touched his.

"What have you been drinking, Cherie?"

Picard smiled. "A little present from Guinan. I spent most of the day in the holodeck. Guess she thought I'd need it."

"And what were you doing there?" she asked curiously.

"Thinking."

"And drinking," Therese added gently, her warm eyes smiling.

"Um hum," he replied, enjoying her amusement.

She poked a finger into his chest and gave him a teasing look. "You had better not be 'sloshed', mon ami." She tilted her head and looked up at him, her face suddenly serious. "We have important matters to discuss tonight, yes?"

"Yes."

She eyed him thoughtfully and decided waiting was in order.

"What's for dinner?"

Picard led her to the table. Once she was seated, he went to the replicator and ordered a light dinner for two. He enjoyed this time of their day, the quiet of it, and being able to do this small thing for her. It had surprised him, at first, the enjoyment one got out of these routine little domestic tasks when they were done for someone else.

Once dinner was cleared away and Jean Luc had poured them both an after dinner wine, they took their places on the sofa. Therese waited until he was settled, then asked softly, "Well, Cherie, what are we to do?"

Picard let the warmth he felt at her use of 'we' wash over him.

"I've decided there isn't much we *can* do."

Therese looked at him closely, uncertainty creasing her brow. "What do you mean?"

Picard exhaled and bent his head in thought. As the day had progressed, and time distanced him from the shock, he had found himself growing ever more analytical. Knowing Therese would understand and not think him callous, he said bluntly, "I question how Beverly discovering us this morning changes anything. I'll admit it was a shock at first, but she would have found out anyway, Therese, and who knows how she'd have reacted if she'd found out when we were settled on Earth? It wasn't the most pleasant way to be discovered, but it's too late to do anything about that now."

Therese looked at him in surprise. She knew she had not imagined his devastation this morning - nor Beverly's - so she protested.

"But, Jean Luc, if it is so obvious that she cares..."

He raised calm eyes to hers and her voice trailed off without finishing her thought.

"Perhaps," he said evenly, "we need to remember that the issue never was whether she cared or not, but if she would ever be willing to act on her feelings, if she would ever step beyond the circling around each other we've done all these years. And, of course, if I would be willing or able or patient enough to continue waiting..."

Therese held her breath. Jean Luc was the most able and patient man she knew. He must have decided to stay. She cast her thoughts back quickly to their conversations about his remaining, when they had weighed the pros and cons of his leaving. If patience were what he thought was required, perhaps he had, after all, decided to remain. She felt a part of her sink.

"... I decided some time ago that taking the position at Star Fleet Headquarters would be the best thing for me. I see no reason to alter that opinion now."

She looked at him, quelling a surge of relief she did not want to acknowledge. "Are you sure, Cherie?"

He nodded, hazel eyes calmly confirming the fact. "I'm sure."

They sat in silence, he waiting for her to bring the subject up, she waiting until she felt ready.

Finally, she asked, "And Beverly?"

"You know I tried to talk to her about whether to accept the position or not. You know the lack of response I got. I'd get even less if I tried to speak with her now." He shook his head. "I would say that means she isn't involved in this decision."

Therese waited a moment, wondering how far to push. Honesty, however, had always been the one thing they could rely on from the other, so she knew she had to protest, "Not involved? Oh, Cherie, I think you love her too much to leave with things this way. You said it was time to move on, and I do not disagree...but what I saw this morning, Cherie...I think she may love you too much to let you go. Perhaps..." -and she hated saying this, but had to consider it- "...perhaps *we* were wrong..."

Therese's words stung him, opening wounds he had thought healed forever. He looked at her, sharply, then paused, wondering how much his reaction to Beverly's appearance had affected her.

"I'll never think that, Therese. Never," he hastened to reassure her.

"But you should perhaps still consider staying?"

His voice sounded tired and resigned when he said, "I don't think I can do that, Therese."

She looked at him, searching his eyes for what he was not saying. "But can you 'not' do that?"

She wanted to tell him to come with her, wanted to tell him she needed the security, the comfort they gave one another. She wanted their evenings together, working or talking or enjoying whatever entertainment they decided upon, but she remained silent. This morning had shaken her. For the first time, she was faced with uncertainty about what was best for him.

She moved restlessly, hating this questioning of herself. Always, she had known what to do, always she had been certain of her actions and certain of what to recommend that others do. Now she was not.

She had seen Beverly's reaction, yes, but it had been Jean Luc's that had seared her soul. It had been the look in his eyes, the strain in his face that had made her weep. He still cared. Cared deeply. Perhaps there could be no running away from it, no moving on, accepting less for more...perhaps their own happiness together had been nothing but play-acting what they wished it could be with the one they truly loved.

The ridiculous thought that she wished Henri were here to talk to about this, ran through her mind. She quickly pushed aside. Missing him now would be no help.

The problem, she decided, boiled down to what was best for Jean Luc in the here and now. Until she spoke with Beverly she would never know for sure.

"Don't make your final decision yet, Jean Luc. We have a couple of days. Perhaps events will unfold unexpectedly, and you will want to reconsider."

He nodded agreement, but silently doubted anything would change his mind now.

 * * *

"I need to know what you're going to do about this."

It was an abrupt beginning, not anywhere close to what she had been rehearsing in her mind on the way to Beverly's office, but it was what she blurted out...a sign in itself of her state of mind.

Beverly looked at her unwelcome visitor, her eyes hard, hating the woman who had just walked in, unannounced, blurting out demands. She inhaled sharply, trying to calm herself. She had made her decision, and accepted the rightness of it. She would stick to it.

That did not, however, mean she had to like it...or the woman now standing in front of her. In truth, she hated everything she was about to go through - and dreaded the conversation she was sure was about to evolve with Therese. She looked at the dark-haired scientist with distaste; had the damn woman come to gloat? Fighting an urge to get up from her chair, she struggled to maintain a calm expression as she watched Therese push the control to release the door and allow it to close.

In a cool, level tone, Beverly asked, "This? What 'this'?"

Having insured their privacy, Therese turned from her task and said abruptly, "Don't play games, doctor. This is Jean Luc's future we're talking about, yes? I will not have you play the innocent." She stood in front of her adversary's desk and folded her arms. "Now tell me, madame, what do you intend to do?"

Beverly's eyes flashed with dislike, "I don't see that it's any of your business."

Therese's fuse had been cut precariously short by the last few day's events, and now her temper exploded. "No business of mine? De *moi*? Mon Dieu, est tu foule? Of course it is my business! *I'm* the one he will leave with if he goes, you fool!" Therese's voice shook with anger.

"If he's leaving with you, it is obviously no business of mine, then." Beverly replied, feeling little satisfaction in this verbal repartee.

Therese fought an urge to reach across the desk and slap the other woman. Instead, she threw up her hands in exasperation and looked to the ceiling for strength to deal with this type of obtuseness. She then turned to Beverly, her eyes stormy. Placing both hands on the desk, she leaned over them and said, "You still do not understand, do you? He is in love with you! He will be in love with you until the day he dies! God, woman, what more do you want from him?"

"He has a funny way of showing it."

Therese forced herself to turn away, her fists clenched - she would have done the woman violence otherwise. She took at deep breath and tried to calm herself. Moving to face her opponent once more, she looked at Beverly, disbelief written on her face. "You blame him because he has reached the point that he knows he needs more than to stand by and love someone from afar? You blame him because he wants to be plunged into a relationship wholly, no holds barred,no regrets, no remonstrations? You blame him that he wants to be with someone and has reached the point that, since you are not available, he will accept and return love with someone else?"

She began to pace, back and forth, in front of Beverly's desk. Waving her hands as she spoke, her voice began to rise, "Mon Dieu, woman, he loves you. And you can't even bring yourself to show that you love him back..." she threw an accusing glare at the other woman, "...and you do, don't you?" She shook her head. "But all you show is this lack of concern for what he needs - if you even notice what he needs. The only thing that seems to be important to you is that he be there, loving you, dancing attendance. What it does to him does not matter to you at all."

 Beverly sat stunned at Therese's words. She had expected a brief "Jean Luc is leaving with me...so there!" type of conversation, not this.

Not anything like this.

To hear Therese say Jean Luc was in love with her confused her...and allowed a little bit of hope to swell within her. She longed to dwell on these aspects of the conversation, but knew she must focus on the anger she felt at the woman's temerity in coming here to say them. Who the hell did she think she was trying to run Jean Luc's, or her own, life?

While Beverly was working up steam, Therese just as quickly ran out of hers. Suddenly, she stopped. If she didn't take a less adversarial tone, she advised herself, she might never get a response. Exhaling softly, she forced herself to change her tone. "I'd really hoped you two would make it. It has been so long, yes? I thought time was all that was needed. It does not cause me pleasure that you two are apart."

"Liar." The word shot out of her, hard and sharp and poisoned with the dislike she felt for this woman.

Therese gasped. "I do not understand why you do this, why you just sit there and ignore what is happening as though it means nothing to you." Her self control wavered, and her voice shook when she tried to ask, in as calm a voice as possible, "Time is running out, doctor. I need to know; what you intend to do?"

Beverly looked down at her folded hands. When she again turned her eyes on Therese they were cold and determined. "Nothing. Jean Luc is capable of making his own decisions. There is no need for me to influence him. If he wants to stay, he will. If he wishes to leave, he will."

"You do not wish a part in that decision?"

Memories of Jack, of their courtship, of their marriage, of her asking him to stay with her, begging him to stay...and him leaving anyway, flashed through her mind. If she told Jean Luc she wanted him to stay, how greater the hurt if he chose to go...

"No." She had resolved to never give anyone the power to reject her like that again.

Therese looked at her in disbelief. "Then I think he will go. Beverly," she said in a low voice, "he needs someone." Despite herself, she admitted, "I need someone."

She watched as Beverly shrugged, not knowing her well enough to see that the younger woman was holding on to her self control only tenuously, that she was dangerously near a breaking point...

In a strained voice Beverly said, "It will be best for everyone, when all is said and done." She would have said more, would have added what the little demon voices wanted her to add - that at the moment, Therese was best for him, gave him what he needed - but she remained silent. Spoken to this woman, the words would have choked her.

Therese still stood in front of her, her expression one of hopelessness, un-understanding and helplessness. "So he will go..." she said, her words quiet.

Beverly nodded.

Wordlessly, Therese turned to leave. Just before she was close enough for the doors to sense her presence, Beverly's voice rang out sharply in the small office.

"It won't last."

 Therese shrugged. The fatalistic gesture said as much as the words that followed it. "Perhaps not. But one thing I will tell you, yes? Whatever time we spend together will be happy...and far better than the purgatory you have dismissed him to here. We will not regret what we share and what we give to each other. We understand our relationship, we know what it is and, just as importantly, we recognize what it is not."

"I feel sorry for you, Beverly Crusher. Perhaps one day there will be a time for you and Jean Luc. Always remember that in this office, in this moment, it was you who chose it not to be today." The words were over-dramatic, but Therese was past caring.

Therese left knowing that unless Picard decided differently, the best thing in the world would be for him to leave.

Beverly watched Therese leave, knowing that she had done the right thing, the hard thing, the thing what would save Jean Luc and herself as well. This was a rejection she could live with...she hoped. She would fight, but this was not the time. For now, the fates demanded this of her. As she had told Deanna, until she was sure she could offer better, she had no right to prevent Picard's happiness....The time would come, she told herself determinedly. She had waited before, she would wait again....

It wasn't over yet....

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