TITLE: Complications 22/42

AUTHOR: Mariel

SERIES: TNG

PART: 22/42

Rating: NC 17

CODES: f/P/C

 

ATTENTION: Please note the above code. If you don't want a SEX SCENE between Picard and Crusher described, please, please DON"T READ this. I don't want to offend someone. The plot of the story goes along reasonably well without it - just skip to chapter 22.

 

 

 

Complications 22/42

by: Mariel

 

 

Her lips were as soft as he remembered, her taste as warm and wonderful. He brought her close against him, and gave himself up to loving her.

 

She sighed against him, opening her lips, shivering again at the erotic sensation of his tongue sliding against hers. Slowly, she put her arms around his neck, giving herself to this moment of being in his arms, of having his tongue explore her mouth, filling her with tremors of physical desire that made her knees weak.

 

He nibbled on her lower lip, teased her lips with his, trickled small kisses along her jaw to her ear, and then retraced his path, to feast upon her sensitive mouth once more.

 

Raising a hand to the back of his head, she pressed his mouth harder against hers, kissing him deeply, arousing in him waves of need he fought hard to control. Tilting her hips against him, she began a slow rhythmical movement against his hardness that made him groan her name.

 

"Beverly..."

 

She hugged him to her, her chin on his shoulder, overwhelmed by the heat building within her. "Shhh..." Then, pulling away to look in his eyes. "Yes?"

 

He responded by pulling her to his mouth once more, slowly moving to her neck to kiss the pulse beating rapidly there.

 

In turn, she silently pressed warm lips to his neck, and returned his caresses, trailing her fingers along his back and then down over the firmness of his backside. Loosening his shirt from the waist of his pants, she moved her hands against his bare skin, relishing the play of muscle as he moved to hold her still closer.

 

The sensation on her mouth on his neck, of her hands running over his skin filled him. Slowly, he again pulled back, his body rebelling against the loss of contact with her.

 

Wordlessly they walked to her bedroom. As the door swished closed behind them she turned and they again shared kisses that left them breathless. Hands having quickly found their way once again to her breasts beneath her top, he caressed her, and she sighed and leaned against him, the pleasure of his touch making her quiver. Moving away from him slightly, she manipulated the buttons of his shirt, opening it to press herself against his bare skin.

 

It was not enough.

 

Taking her tunic by the bottom, he raised it up. Only too ready to help, she lifted her arms to allow him to pull it over her head. Letting it drop to the floor, they returned to one another's arms, both exhaling with pleasure at the sudden sensation of skin against skin.

 

It was still not enough.

 

Reaching down, he gathered the material of her skirt in his hand and pulled it upwards. He placed questing fingers between her legs, touching the warm wetness there, and he held her more tightly still when he felt a low moan in her throat against his lips.

 

Slowly he rubbed his fingers along her, building a fire in her that made her knees weak, arousing her so that she almost cried out in want when he moved his hand away...

 

Clutching him, she moaned and drew him towards the bed. As he began to follow, she worked on the waist of his pants, finally undoing them and pushing them to rest mid-way down his hips. When the edge of the bed caught her at the back of the knees, she pushed his pants down still farther and reached down to grasp him, running her palm along the length of him, then wrapping her hand around his thickness.

 

Kissing passionately, they slowly manipulated each other, building their excitement to higher peaks, their breaths came in shorter and shorter gasps. Controlling his urge to throw her on the bed and bring them both an immediate relief, Jean Luc gently removed her hand from him. "Lie down," he said gently.

 

She did as he asked, hating the feel of cool air where her skin no longer touched his. She helped him remove her skirt, watched as he slipped off his shoes and stepped out of his pants...And closed her eyes in pleasure as his body slowly lowered down onto hers. Automatically, she opened to him, arching herself to receive him. Moving to one side, however, he pressed his hardness against her thigh. When she moved to position him, he shook his head.

 

"No, not yet..." he whispered gently.

 

Her body demanded release, and she moaned in protest...and then gave herself up to the eroticism of his kisses. Leaving her bruised over-sensitive lips, he slowly moved down her body, the warmth of his mouth leaving little cooling spots on her neck, on her breasts, and oh, yes...she sighed as he took a tender nipple between his lips and teased it with his tongue, while he gently manipulated the other with his thumb...

 

And then he continued downward, driving her mad with her need to be pushed over the edge. Her body tensed with expectation as he paused between her thighs...And trembled when he lowered his head and explored with his tongue the wet mysteries of her womanhood. Arching upwards, she sought that final touch...

 

And gasped in disappointment when he moved away.

 

Opening her eyes, she met and held his. Slowly, he moved back over her. This time positioning himself as she wanted him to, she moaned at the heat of him pressing against her. Spreading her legs still further, she slowly gyrated her hips, they both watched as he applied the pressure necessary to slowly enter her, allowing her body time to gradually accommodate him.

 

When their bodies finally met, he paused, heavy against her. Then, slowly, deliciously, he began to withdraw, every centimetre of his length building within her an urgency they both knew would soon be uncontrollable.

 

Afraid he was actually going to exit her completely, she grasped his buttocks to draw him to her. Willingly, he allowed himself to be drawn into her again, more forcibly this time. Again and again, their speed building, he pushed into her until finally, unable to contain or control what he had built inside her, she screamed his name and the exquisite pain of her orgasm tore through her. As she convulsed around him, Picard thrust hard once, twice more, and groaned as he felt a blessed release of his own.

 

He collapsed on top of her, both panting from their efforts, their heartbeats almost audible. Gradually becoming conscious of their position, and afraid he was too heavy for her, he slid off of her to lie face down beside her, one arm still slung around her waist.

 

She turned her head to look at him, a smile curving her mouth. There were so many things she wanted to say: her wonder that they had finally managed to do this, her surprise that it had been so good...her desire to do it again...

 

Her mouth quirked into a deeper smile at that thought.

 

Picard, sensing her smile, raised a tired, replete brow. "What?"

 

"Nothing, Jean Luc. I'm just happy."

 

He looked at her, his eyes warm. "Me too. I can't believe..."

 

He turned over, and they repositioned themselves so that she lay with her head on his shoulder. "Mmmmmm..." she said, snuggling against his warmth, "...me neither."

 

"It was a long time coming."

 

She slapped him on the chest. "And whose fault was that?! I was quite prepared to go for it straight away!"

 

He grinned at her deliberate misunderstanding. "I wanted our first time to last a little longer than that."

 

"You wanted me to suffer."

 

She smiled as much at the self-satisfied tone in his voice as she did at his words, when he said nonsensically, "Suffering wasn't what you seemed to be suffering from. I'd have said a surfeit of pleasure more likely."

 

She trailed her fingers over his chest, enjoying the feel of his chest hair. "You're right there," she conceded willingly.

 

They lapsed into a tired, comfortable silence...enjoying this warm lull after their lovemaking...refusing to think...

 

...He had thought her asleep, and almost jumped when he first felt her touch. Smiling, he relaxed, giving himself up to her playful ministrations...her hand gently moved around his manhood, stroking it lightly, exploring its environs...moving to straddle him, she ran her tongue along his ear, nibbling on its lobe, nuzzling his neck, and sending little pleasurable shivers through him...still, he remained motionless, eyes closed, refusing, except for his growing hardness, to respond...until he felt a delicious breast slowly trail against his face, felt its hardened tip against his lips, demanding he pay attention to both it and its owner...conceding finally, he reached to pull her nearer....

 

End part 22/42

Complications

TITLE: Complications 23/42

AUTHOR: Mariel

SERIES: TNG

PART 23/42

RATING:

CODES: f/P/C

 

 

 

They were awoken from a deep, exhausted sleep by the shrill, repeated chirp of a communicator. Instantly alert, Picard disentangle himself from the comfort of Beverly's arms and was on his feet within seconds, searching for the shirt he knew it was attached to.

 

Finding and then fumbling amid the folds of said shirt, he finally managed to tap the offending commbadge. "Picard here," he said, his voice raspy.

 

He cleared his throat as a voice over the communicator responded, "Sorry, sir, but you weren't in your quarters. You have a priority call from Captain Riker. He insists that he speak to you personally, sir. I tried your quarters first, of course, but you weren't there, and he refuses to leave a message."

 

Picard looked at the chronometer. 0400. He could understand the comment about trying him in his quarters. "Patch it through to here, please." More nails in his moral coffin where Sisko was concerned, he thought.

 

Beverly, who was lazily thinking how few men would look that good standing nude in the middle of the floor holding yesterday's shirt, watched as he put it on. Noticing her watching him, he stopped the part of his brain that wondered just when the shirt had been finally removed, and apologized, "Sorry. I'll be right back."

 

Finding and then drawing on his pants, he left to take the message in her living area.

 

She watched him leave, thinking perhaps she should feel curious about why Riker was calling, but feeling too content to want to get up. Settling herself more comfortably, she wondered if this was what his life was always like.0

 

 

 

 

"Captain Riker, what a surprise to hear from you."

 

Will's bearded face split into a relieved grin. "So you really are on DS9. I was beginning to wonder."

 

Picard lifted an eyebrow, "Oh?"

 

"I left a message for you earlier, but you didn't respond. I was getting worried."

 

Fully awake now, the older man laughed. "Still playing mother hen, Will?"

 

"Some things will never change, sir."

 

"Well, I can assure you I'm fine. Now, what is it that has you calling me twice in one day - and one of those times in the middle of the night?"

 

"Your night, sir. We're only half way through our afternoon here."

 

"I feel much better knowing only one of us is losing sleep over this, Number One."

 

Riker smiled at both Picard's familiar dry humour and his lapse - it felt good to hear that voice using his old title. "I just wanted to make sure you knew we were on the way there."

 

"I know you're arriving, but I'll admit I'm a little curious about the reason. Last I heard, you were scheduled for the Beta Quadrant."

 

"You don't know why we're coming?" asked Riker.

 

Picard shook his head. "When Sisko informed us you were on the way here, I was surprised to hear you weren't already nearing the Beta Quadrant, to be honest."

 

"Admiral Hendrickson has requested a personal inspection before we leave for the Beta tour of duty."

 

"What?"

 

Riker nodded, noting the concern that flashed across the admiral's face. He felt that settling feeling you get when you know your suspicions are being confirmed and said, "My sentiments exactly, sir."

 

Picard's face took on a familiar look, and Riker nodded in understanding when his ex-captain said, "I'm sure he has his reasons, Will. I look forward to seeing you in any event. One excuse is as good as another, if it means we can all get together."

 

Deciding to find out all he could, Riker allowed a large grin to spread across his face. "All, sir? You mean Doctor Crusher's there too? I contacted her office earlier, and they said she was unavailable. They didn't mention where she was."

 

Tired of the cat-and-mouse of withholding information that seemed obvious, Picard nodded. "She's here as well. As I said, it'll be wonderful to see you all together again."

 

Riker looked off screen, then back at Picard. "Sir? Deanna would like to say hello to you."

 

Knowing this was the best chance he would get to let them know something in advance to their arrival, Picard prepared himself as she appeared on the screen. Smiling, he said, "Counselor! Good to see you again"...and allowed the full brunt of his suspicions and concerns to wash over him.

 

He knew that what she picked up over communications like this was a strange mixture of intuition, instinct, empathy, and knowledge of body language. Not an exact science, by any means, but he felt assured she would be aware that he was concerned about something, and that things were not as they appeared.

 

"Just wanted to say hello, Admiral," she said, a slight nod indicating she had received at least some of what he had tried to convey. "Tell Beverly I'm ready for a long chat. I miss her."

 

"I'll mention that when I see her next. I'm sure she looks forward to seeing you as well, Deanna."

 

Riker came back on briefly to confirm their ETA and to say good bye, then the communication ended.

 

 

 

Entering the bedroom, he stood a moment enjoying the sight of Beverly lying among the twisted bed sheets, arm thrown over her head, her hair strewn across the pillow. Quietly, he undressed and slid beneath the covers beside her.

 

"Trying to creep back into my bed without an explanation, sir?"

 

He grinned. "I thought you were asleep."

 

"I'm not. What's going on?"

 

"Just Will, wondering why I hadn't responded to his message."

 

"And you told him...?"

 

"Nothing. We got onto other topics."

 

Eyes still closed, she smiled. "Smart man."

 

"I like to think so." He settled himself more comfortably against her and sighed. "Deanna says hello and she can't wait to talk to you. She won't be long in guessing, you know."

 

"Is this your way of avoiding thinking about what you're really concerned about?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Okay." She lifted her head and made him rearrange himself so that she could lie with it on his shoulder.

 

"Deanna will know the minute she sees me. She won't know WHO until she sees me in the same room as you. I can hide some things - I've learned to over the years - but this...," her blue eyes gleamed in the dim light, "...this will be impossible to close off from her."

 

He nodded. "That's what I thought."

 

She lay there, fingers idly playing with the hair on his chest. A long moment passed between them as they both waited, almost holding their breath for the other to say first what needed to be said. Finally, with a small exhalation, Beverly said, "Jean Luc, why now?"

 

"Why now?" he repeated, wondering the same of her, but acknowledging her right to an answer first, "For me, now, because quite simply, this is the time, because I've learned a lot about living and loving over the past couple of years, and to recognize when to concentrate on the now."

 

He hugged her to him, emotion almost overcoming him, and said, "I've loved you a long, long, time, Beverly. I couldn't let this moment pass. Not again."

 

She welcomed the hug and kissed his chest.

 

They lay there is silence a moment, then Beverly spoke again. She hated having to say her name, disliked the idea of bringing her into their bedroom, onto the scene of their lovemaking, but forced herself to. "But Therese?" she asked, her voice soft. "What of her? Why can you now do this when two days ago, I know you would not have?"

 

"I think because I know Henri loves her. She doesn't need my protection against his rejection." He looked at her, turning so that he could meet her eyes. "She wanted me to come to you, you know. Said that we had to talk, suggested that now we might be able to work things out between us."

 

Turning away from his gaze, Beverly found no comfort in his words. She didn't want to feel grateful to 'the other woman'. She did not understand whatever it was between Jean Luc and Therese Winthrop, did not understand how a woman could love a man, accept him to her bed, yet also encourage him to find happiness with someone he might love more or differently. It was too complicated in motive and emotion for her to want to deal with.

 

She had, she admitted, tried to do something similar when she had convinced herself that Therese was better for Jean Luc than she was, and watched, without protest, him leave the _Enterprise_ with the other woman. She had done so, however, with every fibre of her being screaming in raging protest. Therese seemed to do this with an equamity that she was unable to fathom.

 

"She loves Henri?"

 

"Oh, yes."

 

"And she loves you."

 

"Yes, though not, obviously, in the same way," he explained patiently. "I think we will always share the feelings we have for one another, Beverly." He lifted himself onto an elbow and looked down at her. He wanted to explain the inexplicable, answer all the unanswerable questions he knew she had. And could not.

 

Instead he offered, "But you are my soul's heart, the woman I have been in love with for so long I can't remember what it is not to love you. You complete me, challenge me,..." Running out of words, he raised a hand to gently turn her face towards him.

 

Finally, she raised her eyes to meet his. Tears glimmered, turning them to a sapphire brilliance when she nodded and answered, "I know, but thank you for saying it."

 

Reassured, he kissed her softly and once again lay down, Beverly settling her head comfortably back onto his shoulder.

 

They lay there together, bodies warmly entwined, comforted by each other's presence, fiercely guarding this intimacy that had taken so long to accomplish... And privately wondered, from their different perspectives, what would happen to Therese if Henri didn't survive...and who would feel guilt...and about what...

 

 

 

They slept a while, neither realizing it until they felt the other wake. Pulling him closer to her, she smiled and stretched. "I could get used to this in a serious way, Admiral Picard."

 

"I hope you will," he replied gruffly.

 

"It's almost time to get up. We've got to start working on the last of those padds."

 

He nodded, sorry that the real world was now preparing to enter their refuge, but ready for it to...once he got one last thing cleared out of the way...

 

"Beverly?"

 

"Ummm?"

 

"Why now?"

 

He felt her smile against him.

 

"Because."

 

He harrumphed. "If only *I'd* thought of that reason!"

 

"No, wait. Because, as you said, it was time. I don't begin to understand our wretched sense of timing, but for some reason, the other night, when I saw your reaction to Henri's personal log, I knew that there was a window of opportunity for us, and I couldn't let it close, Jean Luc. I couldn't."

 

His deep voice rumbled in soft amusement, "So your attire was more than lucky happenstance."

 

Beverly smiled again. "You could say that. I had every intention of working as hard as I could to seduce you. How was I to know it would be so easy?" she teased, running a finger along his jawline.

 

"That still doesn't really answer the question."

 

"Gods, you're persistent!" she groaned. "Okay," she said, half angry at having to explain herself, but not sure why. "Now, because of the window of opportunity, and because I've had the hell of living without you for these past two years, and don't want more time to pass the same way. I knew that so long as you were with Therese, the chances of us happening would not be great - I know what you're like, how protective you are, how honorable you can be - and I don't think even I'd've liked the skull-duggery involved in having an affair with you. Though," she conceded honestly, "that did cross my mind and wasn't an idea I had discarded as totally unworkable..." she glanced at him and said, "I was starting to feel a little desperate, you know."

 

"Now," she continued, "with you here to myself, we have had the opportunity to establish something of 'us'. I've had the chance to learn the changes in you, and you've learned the changes the past two years have made in me. I've liked those changes, Jean Luc. The timing just seemed right somehow: Therese gave you the go ahead, Henri has given you the freedom, I..." she paused, then finished quietly, "...I have given you...now."

 

She thought, but would not say, that she would be sorry if Henri did not pull through, sorry for Therese, and for the guilt Jean Luc would feel having, in a sense, given Therese up before he knew for sure she would be with Henri. She knew, however, that she would not stand back and allow Therese and Jean Luc to turn to one another as they had on the _Enterprise_. She had learned her lesson.

 

She turned to him, rising on one elbow as he had earlier, and looked down at him earnestly. "We have something of our own here to build on. I don't mean just our twenty-odd years of skirting around each other, but tonight, and what we've finally admitted to one another, what we've finally risked with one another. I love you, Jean Luc Picard. I love you as I have loved no other, and I will not, now that we have finally reached this point, allow it to become anything less. From here on in, we are together, complications be damned."

 

He looked up at her, loving her, and her fire and the determination and confidence he saw in her eyes when she spoke of their relationship. Yes, he thought, this time it would work, because this time, they could both admit to the other that they wanted this more than anything else in the universe. He would deal with Therese, the rightness or wrongness of the timing, but he would not change the way of things now. Not ever.

 

He hugged her to him, happiness making his heart pound. Kissing her forehead, he allowed the day to intrude upon them at last. He smiled at how mundane the words sounded as he said them, but savoured the plurality of them, "I think perhaps we had better get up and start our day."

 

 

End 23/42

Complications

TITLE: COMPLICATIONS 24/42

AUTHOR: Mariel

SERIES: TNG

PART: 24/42

RATING:

CODES: f/P P/C

 

 

 

 

Ignoring the work in front of her, Therese sat in her room as the transport ship ploughed its way through the stars toward Deep Space Nine. The growing sense of urgency she felt was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore, and she was having trouble stifling the desire to stand up and pace the floor. Not long, she told herself, not long now....

 

Inhaling deeply, she unclenched her fingers and reminded herself how much she should be enjoying this trip. It was pleasant to have the days to herself, to talk to people when she felt like company, or to remain in her rooms and work on the projects she had brought with her when she felt so inclined. Too, she had always liked the feeling of being in space, despite her belief that life on Earth, with its oceans and landscapes and its natural cycle of day and night, was far better than on a starship, with its false day, and its holodeck version of nature.

 

She smiled to herself. Jean Luc would shake his head at that, and ask if it were so, why had she spent so much of her life in starships...and enjoyed their holodecks so often?

 

Her smile faded slowly. She had missed him: missed picking up his books, missed the conversation over shared meals, missed the comfort of his being there at the end of the day. He had been a good friend and companion these past two years. As lovers, she thought, they had been well suited, and the adjustment of sharing their lives had been made with so little effort that...

 

Her thoughts pulled up short. 'Had been' a good friend...'had been' well suited. Her heart fluttered at the realization of what she had unconsciously been doing since he had left.

 

Letting go.

 

Rising abruptly, she crossed the small living area of her suite and asked the replicator for a cup of coffee, black. The diversion served as a brief escape from her thoughts, but it was pointless to continue resisting them. It was time to give them free rein. Returning to her original seat beside the viewport, she pushed the padds she had been pretending to work with to one side and settled herself comfortably.

 

As always, she had been avoiding thoughts that took her too much beyond the immediate. Get through the day. Wait for his call. Visit friends. Finish tasks at work...then, after his invitation, there had been the arranging of transport, organizing things at the Institute for during her absence, arranging for some of her project material to accompany her so that she could keep busy....

 

Taking a sip of the dark, bitter brew, she sighed.

 

Now, with the immediate pretty much at a standstill, there was only the future to hold her attention - and she had never been very good at dealing with the future. Putting the cup down, she turned her head to look, unseeing, at the passing stars.

 

She had always been expert at the 'now' part of life. 'Now' this is the best thing, 'Now' this has to be done, 'Now' this must be left alone, 'Now' this is right...

 

...it was one of the reasons why, of course, she had been able to say that perhaps 'now' was the time for Jean Luc and Beverly - and still been able to shy away from thoughts of how that would affect herself. She did not much like to think, just yet, of life without him, or of how their relationship might change with Beverly Crusher added to the equation in a new way.

 

She moved restlessly, chastising herself for being so selfish, so stupid, as to not focus on the sensibility and rightness of things if Jean Luc and Beverly managed to set things right between each other. She had known it inevitable, had she not? As she had told him before he left, they had always been honest about their feelings.

 

An unpleasant tremor of worry rippled through her. We have been lovers before, she reassured herself, and we returned to the old ways of our friendship when our lives so dictated. We will be able to do so again.

 

La probleme, she thought sadly, was that until now, she had never shared his life quite so completely, or for so long a time.

 

//I am spoiled,// she thought to herself wryly. //To have so much, I worry about losing it - though I knew it not truly mine to begin with, yes?//

 

She closed her eyes against the icy sparks of light outside and inhaled deeply. Catching and holding close to her the fears she had been trying to ignore, she came to a realization: she had come to rely on him too much.

 

He had bolstered her up, protected her from her emptiness....

 

She took another sip of cooling coffee, then set the cup down, her face a study in resolution. Staring down at the dark liquid and the dull light it sullenly reflected, she said aloud to herself, "I will get over it, non? Nous sommes des vraies amis, et..." she paused, and smiled a sad smile, "...and that is what true friends do." They had been good for each other, but they had been a second choice, chosen because fate and circumstance and the complications of their lives had dictated it be so.

 

She remembered her words to Beverly, said what seemed a lifetime ago, "We will never regret what we share and what we give each other. We understand our relationship , we know what it is - and just as importantly we recognize what it is not."

 

"Recognize what it is not..." The memory strengthened her. We are ports in a storm for the other, she thought, but not the home port...and smiled at her flight of seafaring fancy.

 

Rising, she took her cup to the disposal. Watching it disappear, she promised herself they would weather this. If Beverly had rejected him again, she would be the comfort and strength he needed, and the worry of parting would be for nothing. If Jean Luc and the doctor were together at last, then she would be happy for him - which was true - and their friendship would continue as it always had - which, she thought with another tremor, I pray will be true.

 

She could only wait..."a demain", she murmured, and turned back to her work once again.

 

  * * *

 

 

Beverly looked up and smiled as Picard returned. "That didn't take you long."

 

"No, the value of being organized. Remind me to mention to someone that my Replicator seems to be malfunctioning, though. I tried for a cup of tea while I sorted out my agenda for the day, and it refused. All I could manage was warm water."

 

"Poor thing," she said, not looking terribly sympathetic. Rising, she walked over to her Replicator and ordered, "Tea, Earl Gray, hot."

 

When it appeared, she took the steaming cup over to where Picard had seated himself with the padds they were going to work with. "Here you go, my love."

 

Picard leaned back and looked up at her, his features soft. "Thank you."

 

Setting the cup on the low table in front of him, she straightened and, looking down at him, fought a sudden wave of giddiness. "I can't believe..." she said softly.

 

His smile made her catch her breath as he said, "Nor can I. But..."

 

She grinned. "Great, isn't it?"

 

"Wonderful."

 

His voice was low and rumbly, and she wanted to ease herself onto him....

 

"But we have work to do," she said, slightly breathless.

 

"We have work to do."

 

"Later."

 

"Most definitely."

 

They smiled at one another, basking in the exquisite feeling of the moment, knowing they could, but wouldn't, enjoying the promises they could now make to one another, ...and then sighed.

 

"Back to it," Picard said. Sitting up, he reached for the padd.

 

 

 

They had been working more than forty minutes, when Picard made a sound. "I think I've found something."

 

Beverly looked up. "What?"

 

Rising, he came to sit on the arm of her chair, and passed her the padd he had carried with him. "Look at this."

 

Pushing the 'play' display, Beverly watched as the face of a young brown-haired woman in casual clothing became suddenly animated.

 

"I think I must be going crazy," her softly accented voice said. "I had no idea being in space for so long could do things like this to your mind. Steve says not to worry, but..." she shook her head, "I'm sure people aren't acting quite the same, and I could swear I saw a lump in Erick's neck move when I saw him this morning at breakfast."

 

She raised a hand to trail nervous fingers through her shortly cropped hair. "I know I must be imagining things, but I wish so much I hadn't had to come on this mission. My parents were right. I ought to have taken the Alpha Ceta Three assignment. Perhaps when we get back I'll be able to get on there..."

 

She paused, and visibly gathered herself together. "Well, I've been called to sickbay. The whole crew had been put through some sort of physical just to make sure we've all weathered the trip through the wormhole all right. I've been putting it off - I'm afraid they'll notice this growing fear of mine, and take me off duty - but Steve says I'm the only one left, so I guess I can't put it off any longer, eh?" The young woman flashed a nervous grin, then the screen went blank.

 

"That was her last message?"

 

Picard nodded.

 

Beverly leaned back into the chair. "All it tells us is what we already know. They were infected after they went through the wormhole."

 

Picard nodded. "But I think it also tells us how they were infected."

 

She flashed him a questioning look.

 

He rose and turned to face her. "I have a feeling that trip to sickbay was pivotal. I think they were using the physical as an excuse to get them where they could implant themselves into the crew without being detected."

 

"The question arises as to where the rest of the crew is."

 

"Have you given that consideration?"

 

Beverly nodded. "Our working hypothesis is that not everyone is 'adaptable' as others to having them. Perhaps the ones who were not so easily 'adapted' were dealt with somehow."

 

Picard shuddered inwardly. "And here we are with a quarantine set up, 13 hosts, on one of the busiest outposts of the Federation...What do they have planned for their next step?"

 

They stared at one another, then turned their eyes to the one remaining padd. Though she had little hope of finding any more information of value, she said, "Well, there's one left. We'll go through that at lunchtime and this evening."

 

Picard nodded. "Something tells me that we've found all we're going to find in them. From now on, our discoveries are going to be made on our own. I'm sure that Hendrickson's arrival is going to change a whole lot of things. I'm worried about how I'll keep an eye on him and what he does. We're going to have to be careful. He knows what this is about, and if he's not infected - which, to be honest, I doubt he is - he's going to start something we're going to have to be ready to react to."

 

"Doesn't sound like much of a plan."

 

"It's all we have." He looked at her "And you have got to be prepared to remove those alien parasites at my word. Will you be ready?"

 

She nodded. "Yes, Bashir and I still have strong reservations about the effect it will have on our patients, but...."

 

Picard nodded. He was learning that in his life, at least, there was always a 'but'...

 

  * * *

 

 

Telling himself he was impatient to go over the last of the padd data, Picard stepped into Bashir's sickbay just before lunchtime to see if Beverly was ready to join him. When the door opened, however, his heart sank: the place was filled with miners in varying degrees of drunkenness and - his mind searched for a descriptive word, and settled upon ...disrepair.

 

Looking up at the sound of the door opening, Beverly smiled at him and nodded. Taking her gesture as an invitation to join her, he walked across to the far side of the room while she continued to wave a tricorder over a groaning patient.

 

"And you said you were doing what when the chair hit you?" she asked, her eyes twinkling at Picard.

 

The man opened his mouth to speak, then noticed the newcomer and stiffened. "Chair? Oh, the chair I tripped over? Nasty fall, I had, but I'll be fine. Just pass that magic wand of yours over me a couple times..."

 

Beverly smiled. "So you can go back about your business?"

 

"Exactly right, doctor."

 

"Fine, but if I were you, I'd get out of the 'chair' business." She adjusted a hypospray and administered it. "This will reduce the swelling and help you cope with the pain. That 'chair' of yours gave you two cracked ribs, a small tear on your cornea, a light concussion and a fractured ulna. Your knuckles are going to be a little swollen for a while, too."

 

The man grinned and clenched and unclenched his fingers. "Guess I owe 'im one, right?"

 

Picard cleared his throat.

 

Glancing up at him, the man's smile receded. "Um, or perhaps, as you suggest, I should stay away from...chairs for a while, eh?"

 

"Good idea. Now, I want you to go over to that station," she pointed to an area to the left of where they were, "and give the attendant this." She passed him a data record of his visit. "Now off you go."

 

The man sat up and slid off the diagnostic table, wincing as he did.

 

Beverly watched him go, then turned with a smile towards Jean Luc....

 

And found herself hard up against his chest.

 

"Ummph!"

 

Grasping her arm to steady her, he continued to hold it, effectively holding her captive between the diagnostic bed and himself.

 

"Ummph?" he asked.

 

Placing her hand on his chest, she relaxed and said, "How was your morning?"

 

"Fine. I finished the last segment of the emergency supply assessment and managed to update it into my report for Sisko this afternoon. What about you?"

 

She looked over his shoulder at the rest of the sick bay. "Well, as you can see, the miners are still enjoying the pleasures of the Promenade, so Julian requested my help. We got a little of our project work done before the chairs at Quark's got rowdy, though, and we'll have a better assessment of things this afternoon." She smiled, her satisfaction evident as she said, "I also realized that once the _Enterprise_ arrives, I can access all my old data."

 

Picard's eyes widened. "Perfect. I hadn't thought of that." Smiling, he brought up his hand to touch her under her chin. The look in his hazel eyes made her knees weak, and she found it difficult to think of anything but the warmth she could feel from his body when he said, "You know how I love a woman with a good mind..."

 

 

 

Finishing with the last of the most recent visitors to his sick bay, Bashir looked over to where Beverly had stationed herself to see how she was doing.

 

What he saw made him grin. Evidently, she was doing quite well. The other doctor was partially hidden behind the admiral, but it was rather obvious from this angle that they were now measuring their personal space in centimetres.

 

Actually, the amount of space they kept between them, he had noticed, had narrowed impressively since Picard's arrival here, and Julian had not been shy about keeping note of the frequency of the admiral's visits, the continuation of the breakfast, lunch, and dinner meetings...and their obvious lack of interest in any company other than their own.

 

He remembered Crusher's comment that she had enjoyed herself her last visit to DS9, and her words of hope that she would have time to enjoy herself here again before she left.

 

Obviously, she was finding the time.

 

Things were going to get very interesting when Therese Winthrop arrived, he thought, pleased that Miles had imparted that news to him earlier. He had a feeling there were going to be a lot of people loitering around the receiving area when *she* showed up. Funny, but he hadn't thought Picard the type to....

 

He shrugged. It took all kinds, and everybody held a few surprises in them, waiting for the right moment to appear, and, he had to admit, after hearing all those old rumors, it seemed somehow appropriate to see them together.

 

He watched as Picard raised a hand to place curved fingers under Crusher's chin. He saw her smile and nod. Picard took a step backwards, and Julian saw her hand drop away from the admiral's chest.

 

Yes, he thought, being sure to keep his smirk on the inside...it was

going to be very interesting. A shadow crossed his face. It would be far more fun, though, if there weren't their guests in quarantine hanging over their heads.

 

End

Complications 24/42

TITLE: Complications 25/42

AUTHOR: Mariel

SERIES: TNG

PART: 25/42

RATING: NC 17 - sexual situations

CODES: f/P P/C

 

 

 

Picard's meeting that afternoon with Sisko, though not particularly warm, was at least conducted in a civilized manner. Civilized enough, in fact, that Picard was beginning to wonder when he should inform the captain of the real problem he had on his station. The man should, after all, be made aware of the danger they were holding in quarantine.

 

 

"I'm impressed with your people, Captain. Their ability and willingness to accommodate themselves to our requirements has been most gratifying. The inspections themselves, of course, have been most enlightening, and the results of all this will certainly save lives, should an emergency of the sort we fear actually happen.

 

The praise did not anger Sisko, but he drew no pleasure from it, either. Shooting a level look at the older man sitting comfortably across his large office desk from him, he said, "As you say, my people are good; among the best, actually."

 

"I'm well aware of that," Picard nodded and smiled slightly, thinking of the two he had worked with personally. "You have every right to be proud of them, and the station you run, Captain."

 

A small silence rose between them: Picard's contemplative, Sisko's expectantly wary. He had the feeling the admiral had more on his mind than the inspections, evaluations and recommendations that had made up their conversation so far. Something else took precedence in the older man's mind, and, suspecting it had something to do with the ship and the quarantined people who were 'not' on his station, he could not help but be curious.

 

Tilting his head to one side, Sisko sat up straighter and leaned his elbows onto his desk, hands clasped together. "Is there something else, Admiral?"

 

Picard raised thought-filled eyes to meet Sisko's. Noticeably pausing, he crossed one leg over the other and shook his head slowly. "Not at the moment, but I want you to know I still hope to make good on my promise to tell you what I can about...other concerns you might have."

 

Sisko sat back. Refusing to show disappointment, but allowing some dissatisfaction over the situation to slip back into his manner, he commented, "I would be most appreciative of that, sir."

 

"Perhaps when we meet in two days time? I believe your people have scheduled things so that I will be finished by then."

 

Uncertain whether or not this was an unspoken criticism of the schedule's timing, Benjamin asked, "You are satisfied with the schedule we have arranged for you?"

 

Picard nodded. "Yes, though as you may already know, tomorrow afternoon's inspection has been canceled. Arrangements will be made to fit it in as soon as possible, of course."

 

Unaware of this change, Sisko offered stiffly, "I hope we have not inconvenienced you by this."

 

Picard cleared his throat and shifted in his chair, "Actually, the rescheduling was at my request."

 

"Oh?" Sisko raised an eyebrow and waited.

 

Picard nodded, and though he disliked making note of personal considerations, said, "Commander Winthrop will be arriving and I would like to be available to meet her personally."

 

Sisko looked at him steadily. "Really."

 

The captain's disapproval of the way he believed Picard conducted his personal life was evident. Refusing to explain further, however, Picard held his gaze firmly. "Yes."

 

"I look forward to meeting her myself; she seems a very pleasant woman," Sisko commented. He paused, allowing his displeasure at the dishonorable way he felt Picard was treating her to rise even closer to the surface. Continuing in a deceptively casual tone, he added, "I hope she finds her stay on DS9 as 'pleasurable' as some of the *rest* of our guests." He watched as his skillfully thrown dart hit home.

 

Picard stiffened as he connected Sisko's words with Beverly's when Sisko had found them together in Quark's the other evening. 'The game', he thought, come back to haunt him in an unexpected way. Refusing to allow himself anger, he relaxed and managed to keep his face impassive as he responded, "I'll do everything I can to make it so, Captain."

 

Rising to leave, Picard nodded, satisfaction almost making him smile. //Got him,// he thought, seeing the tall man's confusion at his response. As he had told Beverly, he would not explain, clarify, or apologize for his actions to anyone - and certainly not to this man. Let him think what he liked.

 

A little wave of doubt hit him, but he brushed it aside. Everything was going to work out fine, he reassured himself, as he nodded a silent farewell to Sisko. Therese would have her Henri...His actions were above reproach....

 

Still pushing away doubt, he snapped the top of his uniform tunic into place and allowed himself one more glance at the captain's forbidding, disapproving face. He found himself anticipating Sisko's expression when he saw Henri and Therese together...it was a complicated business, he thought, and, in different circumstances, he might feel sorry about Sisko's confusion - if the captain weren't so damned sure of himself.

 

Posture as comfortably perfect as ever, he walked through the office doors and into the walkway above the command centre of the station, conscious Sisko's eyes followed him until the lift doors closed behind him.

 

 

  * * *

 

 

Admiral Hendrickson looked out of the viewport of his quarters, the impatience stamped on his features reflecting back at him sullenly. The _Enterprise_ had stepped up its schedule and would be arriving earlier at DS9 than he had anticipated - and well before his own arrival. He didn't like the situation, but he could hardly order her to delay her arrival without a good reason...and unfortunately, he felt compelled to keep to his original schedule in order not to incur undue notice.

 

"N'cha," he swore to himself. Turning away from the window, he drew in a large lungfull of air, allowing the extra oxygen to calm both himself and the body that inhaled it. Now that the invasion had begun, it seemed that everything was happening too quickly, and changes that affected the plan made him nervous. He did not like the idea of the Enterprise and Picard's old crew being left to their own devices too long without being there to keep an eye on them, just for safety's sake.

 

Striding across the room to his desk, he took a small disk from his pocket and placed it in the computer console. Pushing the 'run' padd, he watched as information once again scrolled in front of him. Everything seemed fine. He re-read with satisfaction the reports that indicated that the hosts in quarantine were being kept stable, that the presence of the Srn'n was unknown, and that all the important players were either there on the station, or soon to be.

 

He sighed. And Commander Winthrop too - not that she would pose much of a problem, of course. Not part of the plan, she would remain not part of the plan.

 

Removing the disk and pocketing it once again, he continued his thoughts. At first, considering the reports he had been getting about Picard's growing relationship with Doctor Crusher, he had been disconcerted at the man's invitation to Winthrop to join him on the station. Realizing he still had much to learn about human mating practices and mores,(why would Picard invite his lover to join him when he seemed so intimately occupied with the HSFM?) he forced himself to think instead of the fact the man would not be likely to invite her where he thought there might be danger.

 

Yes, he nodded, her presence was merely a confirmation that there had been no detection.

 

Nor would there be, he vowed.

 

 

 

  * * *

 

 

Beverly put the padd down and sighed softly. They had been working for hours, and she was tired. Having finished the last of Bashir's padds, she had gone on to reviewing her plan for bringing the phasic stasis to an end. Jean Luc had said he wanted to briefly go over a computer simulation Miles had given him involving the emergency plans they were devising. She had watched as he settled down with it, a small frown of concentration on his face - and was willing to swear he had not moved a muscle since.

 

Silently, she looked over at him and felt that feeling rise in her again. Smiling to herself, she allowed its warmth to fill her. Letting her mind drift, her eyes lazily wandered over him, enjoying the smoothness of his head, the hair that barely showed in the v of his shirt, the tautness of material over his thighs, and his hands as he held....

 

Feeling her gaze, he looked up at her, and asked, What?"

 

Not answering immediately, she rose and she walked over to him.

 

"I was just thinking...," she said slowly, her eyes unreadable.

 

He relaxed back against the cushions. Sensing her mood, he placed the padd beside him on the sofa, looked up at her with hooded eyes, and asked in a deep, quiet tone, "Oh? About what?"

 

"Oh..." she came still nearer and slowly lowered herself until she straddled his lap. Facing him, she placed her hands on his shoulders and settled herself comfortably onto him, then continued, "...about this and that." She tilted her head and drew a finger along the line of his jaw, starting in the soft area below his ear, then slowly trailing a whisper soft touch to just below the cleft in his chin.

 

"You know," she commented, her voice deceptively matter-of-fact, "I thought it would be easier, once reality had replaced imagination, but it's not. In fact," she concluded, tapping him on the chin with a slender finger, "It's *far* more difficult."

 

He raised an eyebrow. Holding her by the waist, he said, "What do you mean?"

 

"Oh, just that whereas before, I could look at you and wonder what it would be like..." she sighed, then finished in a low voice, "...Now I look at you and *know* just how good it is."

 

"Really...." He ran his hands along her thighs, from her knee upwards, finally settling them at her waist again.

 

She nodded and ran hands across his chest, then began to lightly massage his shoulders. "Uummmhmmm...I like your hands. Like the feel of them on me...."

 

Not minding her slight change of topic, he slowly moved his hands up her sides, bringing them across her front to caress her breasts, then slowly brought them up to her shoulders..."Like this?"

 

She nodded, enjoying the feeling, her eyes half closed.

 

After gently massaging her shoulders a moment, his hands moved to the front of her shirt and he began to unbutton the small pearl buttons there.

 

She closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of his hands against her breasts as, one by one, he methodically undid the buttons. Finished, he gently pulled the shirt from the waist of her pants, then ran his hands up her front again, this time without the soft jersey material in the way.

 

She sighed and murmured, "Feels lovely."

 

"Hmmm" he replied, enjoying the warmth of her, the silky thinness of her bra, and her hardened nipples tantalizing him through its sheer material. Brushing them lightly with his fingers, he watched her with enjoyment, thrilling that his touch could bring her this pleasure, and that they had this closeness, this familiarity with one another at last.

 

Shuddering at the need he elicited from her, she leaned her mouth down to meet his, lips parted in preparation for his kiss...

 

 

 

***

 

 

She sighed, snuggling deeper against him, "That was lovely. It's wonderful to have all night..."

 

"Yes," he agreed, holding her close. He felt replete, his body wanting to enfold the warmth of her and rest... but somehow failed to prevent his thoughts from re-introducing the unwanted tenseness that their activities had temporarily set aside.

 

Sensing something was amiss, Beverly waited patiently for him to speak.

 

Finally, he said, "We have to think about tomorrow. Therese arrives late in the afternoon. She doesn't know what's happened with us, and she'll expect me to fill her in....and I have to tell her about Henri, and give her his personal log." He frowned with worry, "I'm not sure how she's going to react to that. I'll need to be with her..."

 

Beverly listened quietly. He was asking her without asking. She knew it. And refused it. He would have to say the words.

 

"And you will be staying here with me tomorrow night?" she asked.

 

He looked at her. "I don't know. I'll get her settled in..." He paused, and looked at her helplessly, "I don't know...Her first night here...the news of Henri..."

 

She kept her gaze on him, waiting.

 

Picard inhaled deeply. "I think the first night I'll have to be with her. She'll know about us first thing, of course - she'd sense it anyways - but I know her well enough to know that she'll need to be with someone while she goes through the padd information, and then there'll be the explanations and..." His voiced drifted off helplessly.

 

She was still looking at him, waiting.

 

"Beverly, there's no one else here to be with her. I'm not going to leave her alone. When she reads those messages...she already blames herself for their breakup now, and that, added to his condition..."

 

She regarded him steadily, waiting, willing him to trust her, to trust *them*...

 

He sighed, and asked the question she had prayed he would. "Will it make you uncomfortable if I stay with her?"

 

She held her breath a moment, then expelled it softly. "Yes."

 

His heart sank.

 

Slowly, she rose up onto her elbow, and held his eyes with hers. "But the important thing is that you asked, and that I answered. No more second-guessing, Jean Luc. We can't always do as the other wishes, but at least we can deal with it openly."

 

It took a while before understanding of what she was saying dawned on him. A slow, relieved smile curved his lips. "Thank you."

 

"Thank *you*," she said, bending down to gently touch her lips to his. "We'll get through this all, Jean Luc Picard," she said as she moved to lie on top of him.

 

Picard's response was reduced to a muffled moan as their magic began again.

 

End

Complications 25/42

 

TITLE: Complications 26/42

AUTHOR: Mariel

SERIES: TNG

PART 26/42

RATING

CODES: f/P P/C

 

 

Outwardly calm, Picard sat eating his lunch with Beverly in her quarters. He had been on an emotional roller coaster all morning, tightly reining in any indication of what he was feeling. It had been difficult to display interest in the latest improvements to station-to-ship-coupling procedures some poor lieutenant had so eagerly explained to him, and he had breathed a sigh of relief when it was over.

 

Therese would arrive in a matter of hours.

 

His emotional landscape was a cacophony of happiness, worry and relief, all vieing for predominance. Happiness, because he could not help himself - though he also felt somewhat sheepish about it. He could not help but feel that it would be good to have her here, to talk with her and share, as he had almost every day for the past two years, his news - and such wonderful news this time, he thought, thinking of Beverly.

 

Worry was there, of course, because as much as he looked forward to seeing her, he was torn over the news - both good and bad - that he had to offer regarding Henri. He was uncertain as to how she would react to it all, and worried that he could provide the support she might need.

 

And there were feelings of relief because, to be honest, Beverly's understanding had surprised him. They had taken yet another step in the comfortable direction that he had unconsciously taken so long ago with Therese, one towards saying what one felt, thereby leaving themselves exposed, but also available. It was a good thing...and something, he knew, that would not have happened two years ago. He sighed contentedly.

 

Hearing the sigh, Beverly looked up from her soup and salad. "I'm half afraid to ask."

 

He smiled softly. "Just thinking how fortunate I am, how good it feels."

 

She smiled back. "You say that now, when everything's calm and civilized. Check back later. The next few days are going to be just a little stressful, Jean Luc. Let's see how we weather that together."

 

He reached over and placed a warm hand over hers. "We'll do just fine."

 

"That's good, because I'm sure there are people somewhere making bets either way."

 

Jean Luc chuckled. "I'm waiting until the _Enterprise_ arrives. That's when we'll see the big money."

 

"Yes, but I expect there are some bets being laid right now about Therese's arrival."

 

He nodded. "I'm sure. The latest ETA is 1630 hours."

 

Beverly smiled. "Just make sure you're there on time. No need to start any more rumors." Her face became more serious as she continued, "I'm spending all the time I can in quarantine until I hear from you. There's something a little different about the way these hosts are reacting to the alien presence - or maybe its just that there's something different about the aliens - I can't be sure until the _Enterprise_ gets here, and I see my old records. I'm going to try to run some tests, if I can manage to get Hendrickson's people out of there for more than a couple of minutes."

 

He nodded, glad she was going to be busy, but wondered how difficult it was going to be, this waiting for him to see her, what thoughts would go through her mind.

 

"Beverly, thank you for being so understanding about this."

 

She looked over at him, surprised, then relaxed and said honestly, "I have to be understanding -even though I don't, not totally, anyways. I am determined we're going to do this, Jean Luc, and I know that you need this time with her, so,..." she waved a hand in the air, "...I want you to get it over with before I run out of whatever it is that's enabling me to do this."

 

"Aye aye, sir." he said, his smile soft.

 

She looked at him and sighed, drawing the moment between them out, enjoying the comfort of his love. She felt so very settled, so at home with him....

 

And a thought crossed her mind..."Jean Luc?"

 

He raised an eyebrow.

 

"I've never felt this kind of comfort, this kind of security with anyone but you. We've spent so much time together in our lives, have come to know each other so well, we're so...I don't know... 'in tune', I guess. Especially this time around." She looked over at him, her hair cascading over her shoulder as she moved. "It feels almost too good to be true."

 

Her voice drifted off, but he knew she had not finished. "And?" he prompted, when she seemed to take too long to complete her thought.

 

"Is this feeling of...fascination going to dissipate and leave us wondering what we're doing? After a while, are we going to find each other...boring?"

 

"I don't think that's likely."

 

"Perhaps not, but..."

 

He stood up and took her hand, indicating he wanted her to rise as well. Doing so, she inhaled sharply as her body responded to his closeness.

 

"Beverly," he asked gently. "Boring? In twenty five years, have we ever run out of things to discuss, to learn, or to argue over?"

 

She shook her head, but kept her eyes on her hands where they lay resting on his chest, unconsciously wanting reassurance.

 

"And, honestly, have we ever tired of the other's company, or in the past ten years, ever stopped wanting the reassurance of each other's presence? Ever thought being with each other was...boring?"

 

She shook her head silently.

 

Lifting her chin with his finger, he leaned forward a little and softly kissed her lips, teasing them with his own. Slowly, he drew her closer into his arms, caressing her gently with his hands, making love to her mouth until she relaxed against him, and, opening her mouth to his, began to respond.

 

Abruptly, he freed her lips and stepped away. Taking time to note her softened, dazed expression, he smiled and drawled. "And you're worried about boring? Now that we have this too?" He shook his head, a gleam of satisfaction in his eye, "I do not think so..."

 

He jumped back just in time to avoid being hit.

 

 

***

 

 

Therese stepped through the entrance from the arrival corridor and looked around curiously, allowing Picard a brief moment to watch her. Dressed simply, as always, she looked delightfully casual in her khaki-coloured pants and matching jacket, a black scoop-necked top and colourful scarf completing her ensemble. A couple of other passengers towered over her as they moved past her, and he was once again reminded of how small she was. This lack of stature had always been a sore point with her, though he had never understood why; she was, he thought, just the way she ought to be.

 

"Therese," he said, a welcoming smile lighting up his face.

 

Turning her head, she saw him and grinned. "Cherie!"

 

Maintaining only some of the dignity of his uniform, he covered the distance between them quickly. With a barely audible rumble in the back of his throat, he put his arms around her and hugged her hard. When she wrapped her arms around his neck, laughing, he lifted her off the floor. "Gods, it's good to see you!" he exclaimed.

 

Her feet touching the floor again, Therese chuckled and backed away. "So much exuberance, cherie! I think your stay here has been good for you, yes?"

 

Picard nodded, feeling no need to hide his happiness. "Yes."

 

She looked at him closely for a moment, then nodded. "Oui," she said, "c'est ca..." exhaling softly, she felt what had been their relationship as lovers give way, with a sigh, to their old friendship.

 

"So, dit 'bonjour' properment, s'il tu plait, mon cher. Then we will get me settled wherever it is that you want me to settle."

 

They kissed one another on each side of the mouth warmly.

 

Formal greeting accomplished, she wrapped her arm comfortably around his. Tilting her head to one side, she looked up to meet his eyes. Smiling, she said, "You will tell me immediately, yes? I am eager to know why you brought me so far from home."

 

He placed a hand on hers where it held his arm. "Long story."

 

"And one I am sure I will enjoy the hearing of, cherie!" She looked around. "But we are forgetting my case..." she walked back to where she had dropped it when he had called her name. Following her, Picard picked it up and slung it over his shoulder. Offering her his arm once again, they set off for his quarters.

 

Miles, arriving to oversee the unloading of some equipment ordered from Earth, watched from an alcove and wondered. No arrangements for room accommodations for Commander Winthrop had been made, and it looked obvious that Picard had not told her yet...Or was he not going to? He shook his head. He had always considered Picard an honorable man. He liked the idea of the capt..admiral finally being with Dr. Crusher, but for him to treat someone in such a way...He shook his head. It took away some of the joy he would have felt for them.

 

 

  * * *

 

 

She held the padd out in front of her almost with distaste. Jean Luc had told her everything he could, and had then presented her with this. She had gone through it all and, sighing, looked across at the closed door that lead to the bedroom. Jean Luc was behind it, having left when she had picked up the Padd, allowing her privacy while she listened to and watched Henri's messages to her.

 

Anger, remorse, regret and frustration, rose within her in a violent rush. In a fit of uncontrolled reaction, she flung the padd at the door...

 

...And watched in horror as the doors slid open and Jean Luc stepped into its path.

 

Failing to duck quickly enough, the padd hit his forehead, just over his right eye. Blood quickly began to ooze between fingers of the hand he automatically lifted to cover the wound.

 

Therese sat in stunned shock, then, unfolding her legs and rising, she stumbled towards where he stood, jarring the table and knocking over both her coffee cup and the tall vase of flowers that had sat upon it. Ignoring the mess she left in her wake, she flung a chair out of the way and crossed the room to him.

 

"Cherie! I am sorry! I did not mean..." She lifted a gentle hand, and he allowed her to see the wound. Bringing away blood-covered fingers when she stepped back she said, "I'll be right back, you need a cloth, cherie, and perhaps we should call a doctor. The wound looks deep."

 

Picard shook his head at her retreating back. "I'll be all right with just a cloth for now. What on earth were you trying to do?"

 

Returning from the washroom, she carried a dampened cloth to him and gently placed it over the cut. "Vent my emotions."

 

"Oh, well...that's all right then," he said, for some reason finding himself wanting to chuckle as she dabbed at the blood that had run down his cheek.

 

When the door chime rang, they both automatically said "Come" and looked at one another, immediately knowing they had probably just made a mistake. Turning back towards the door, they both watched as Miles entered and then stopped abruptly when he saw the state of the room: the overturned vase, its flowers strewn over the table and onto the sofa, the liquid from a coffee cup darkly pooling on the floor, the overturned chair...and then watched, in stunned silence, as he turned towards themselves, and took in the admiral's condition, blood still slowly oozing from a wound on his forehead, spots of it on the front of his shirt....

 

It would have been funny, the look on Miles' face, had it not, at that moment, been so embarrassing.

 

Miles also felt himself begin to redden. Picard had obviously told her. This was probably not, he thought to himself, the most auspicious time for replicator repair.

 

He looked at the woman standing beside Picard and in that brief moment of mutual shocked surprise, had to restrain a smile. So, the woman had a temper, too! Good for her. He had first-hand experience of a small woman's anger....

 

"I..I'm...sorry sir. I thought I'd drop by and fix that replicator for you on my way home. Sorry I didn't get to it earlier, but...I'll come back when the timing's...um...better..." He stopped, not certain where he should look.

 

"That's quite all right, O'Brien." Picard said, his face impassive, and apparently unperturbed by what O'Brien had just witnessed. "The Commander and I were just preparing to..." O'Brien watched as the admiral's mind worked furiously, "...change for dinner. Please, go ahead with your repairs. I appreciate your going out of your way to take care of it. We'll need it in the morning, for breakfast."

 

Turning, he indicated that Therese was to follow him into the bed chamber.

 

As the doors closed on an O'Brien who wondered if the admiral would even survive until breakfast, Therese laid a hand on Jean Luc's arm. "You know what he is thinking, yes?"

 

Picard nodded ruefully, "I'm afraid so."

 

"Then your idea of going to dinner is a good one. If they see us together in public, perhaps they will not worry so much that I might kill you while you sleep?" she dead panned.

 

Jean Luc relaxed and shook his head, smiling, "Therese, you will never stop amazing me!"

 

She smiled at him, a shadow of strain in her eyes, but determination on her face. "This is all difficult for me, Jean Luc. It is good that there is something to take my mind from it for a while. Let us visit this 'Promenade' I have heard so much about. Treat me to dinner. We will talk later, when I have had time to get used to all this. You can tell me more about Beverly."

 

Concerned that she seemed to be taking this all too calmly - his wounded brow notwithstanding - he nodded. Beverly knew not to expect to see him until tomorrow, and if this jaunt to the promenade helped, then so be it.

 

  * * *

 

 

The emotional turmoil caused by the news of Henri being alive, the horror of what he was hosting, the understanding that she might still lose him, and her reaction to the messages he had made and never sent, had slowly begun to wear away Therese's defenses as the evening wore on. Now, hours after her arrival, she sighed shakily, overwhelmed at the gratitude she felt that he was with her. She needed him here now, could not have faced being alone with her thoughts.

 

She looked down at him, feeling all the affection she had always felt, but none of the physical pull they had experienced during the years they had together.

 

When he looked up at her, she smiled and spoke softly her thoughts. "It is strange, is it not, how things change between us, cherie? How can we be friends, and then lovers, and now be friends again?"

 

"I've never understood it myself, Therese, but I will never stop being thankful it is so."

 

Nodding, she took off her wrap and crawled into bed beside him.

 

"This is one for the books, mon ami. You ought to be with Beverly, yes?"

 

Picard settled himself, holding her comfortably. "Not until we've got this all talked out.

 

They talked for hours, he making sure she understood the dangers and the seriousness of Henri's condition, and giving her his evaluation of the situation. She, in turn, reassured him she understood his need to have Beverly attempt to remove the aliens, and understood also that his reservations about this were due, in part, because it could harm the man she loved.

 

"You must do what you must do, cherie. It is in the hands of fate," her mouth quirked, "and your Doctor Crusher, yes? Do not worry tonight about it. Tomorrow will take care of itself."

 

She paused, then said quietly, "But I wish to see him, Jean Luc. I think I need that."

 

"Therese, *I* haven't even seen him."

 

"But I will. I do not care how it is arranged, I wish to see him, Jean Luc."

 

There was another pause, then she felt him nod, "I'll see what I can do."

 

She smiled. "That is all I need to hear."

 

He tightened his arms around her a moment, then said, "You ought to get some sleep, Therese. Tomorrow is only a few hours away."

 

"For you as well, cherie. I am sorry to have kept you awake..."

 

"It's not the first time," he teased lightly.

 

She smiled, and wondered fleetingly what it would be like to make love to him now, knowing it to be a farewell. Just as quickly, however, the thought was rejected. Their lives were complicated enough -no need to add to it the deception such an action would involve. Both Beverly and Henri required a good deal of understanding to accept what she and Jean Luc had shared. There was little point in making that understanding impossible.

 

"I do not think I will be able to sleep, my mind is too busy," she said.

 

Jean Luc's voice rumbled gently, "Perhaps if you stopped talking?"

 

She murmured a "Merci, cherie," and settled herself a little more comfortably in his arms. He listened as her breathing gradually deepened, and felt her body relax as sleep overtook her. Kissing her on the top of the head, enjoying the warmth of her body and the familiar smell of her perfume, he wondered fleetingly what it would have been like to make love to her, knowing it to be a farewell. And smiled at the foolishness of such a thought. They were friends again - she would laugh at adding such a complication to their lives....

 

 

End

Complications 26/42

COMPLICATIONS: Part 27/42

AUTHOR: Mariel

SERIES: TNG

PART: 27/42

RATING:

CODES: f/P P/C

 

 

 

 

Therese had not woken when, just before the alarm was to go off, Picard carefully slid out of the bed, his casual clothes rumpled, and definitely the worse for having been slept in.

 

Showering and changing into a fresh uniform, he had the pleasure of replicating a perfect pot of tea before she emerged from the bedroom, wrapping her robe tightly around her.

 

"We need to plan our day before you leave, cherie."

 

Picard nodded and indicated she should sit down at the table. "Good morning to you too, Therese. What would you like for breakfast?"

 

She smiled and yawned, "Tea. Toast."

 

Filling her request, he sat opposite her and watched as she smoothed blueberry jam on the toasted triangles.

 

"You have a new worry," he observed.

 

She raised eyes with darkened shadows beneath them. "Yes."

 

He took a careful sip of tea, not taking his eyes from her. "Going to share them?"

 

She paused and placed the toast neatly back on the plate. The small jam knife, she carefully balanced across the top of the jam pot. "I awoke with a thought that frightens me, Jean Luc."

 

He looked at her questioningly. "What?"

 

She reached out for her cup of tea and cradled it to her chest, taking warmth from the steeped liquid. "How will Henri feel when he learns I was with you on the _Enterprise_ only six months after he left me? He kept making those messages for a whole year, Jean Luc...Will he accept that I love him, that I didn't stop loving him?"

 

Picard sat back, and exhaled. "Therese, that hadn't even entered my thoughts...You know him better than I, certainly? What do you think his reaction will be?"

 

"I think at first, he will be so happy to see me, so happy to be back here, so happy about everything, that he will not think. But later, he will, and it is of then that I am afraid."

 

Picard grunted. "Therese! The first time in my entire life I've heard you seriously consider the future, and you have to come up with something like this."

 

Therese smiled, knowing he was not making light of the situation, merely offering a very true observation - she didn't often contemplate the future unless it concerned experiments and chemical reactions - her personal life she had always dealt with in the here and now.

 

"And so?"

 

"And so I recommend that you stop worrying about the long term future. There are enough things about the present for you to concern yourself with." He paused, words ready, wondering how much he really believed what he was going to say, and how much he merely hoped it would be so, then said, "I believe that once things have settled down, he might want you to talk about what happened, but I can't see him not being able to listen and come to understand that it was our friendship that..."

 

She nodded, trying to believe what he said, pushing back her fear that Henri might not have the understanding Beverly Crusher seemed to have developed. Picking up her toast, she took a small bite, then replaced it on the plate, her face thoughtful, and not really hearing the rest of what he said. Swallowing, she looked up, straightened her shoulders, and smiled. "Cherie, if I know you, whatever it is you are to do this morning was scheduled early. You had better be going, yes?"

 

Picard nodded. "I'll be back for lunch. And I'll try to work out a way of having you see Henri" He noted with pleasure her smile that he had remembered his promise, and asked, "Is there anything you want to do this morning in particular?"

 

She shook her head. "Don't worry about me. It will take me a while to get ready for the day, and I would like to go over Henri's messages again..." she smiled, "...if your head did not damage the padd!"

 

At this reminder, he put his fingers up to the cut. "I suppose I should have this taken care of."

 

Therese smiled. "Yes, cherie, and tell her I did not mean to damage you..."

 

 

 

  * * *

 

 

"We're going to be late," she said, staring up at the ceiling contentedly.

 

"It's your fault."

 

"Mine?"

 

"Yes, yours."

 

"I was showered, almost ready..." she protested.

 

"But you were out of uniform..."

 

"I was just out of the shower, for heavens sake, and..." she shifted onto her side to look at him better, "...you shouldn't have kissed me."

 

"You shouldn't have kissed me back."

 

She grinned and traced his lips with her fingers. "You should have kept your hands to yourself."

 

"You shouldn't have felt so good."

 

She laughed. "You shouldn't have made me *feel* so good!"

 

He grinned and ran a hand over her hip. "Perhaps we can agree it was both our faults?"

 

Apparently pleased at the compromise, she nodded and agreed, "Okay, both out faults."

 

She swung her legs around, put her feet on the floor, and stood up, all in one easy movement. Picking up her robe, Beverly put her arms into it and looked down at him, eyes twinkling, and teased, "But mostly yours."

 

Jean Luc sighed and got out of bed.

 

 

 

 

 

Dressed and already half way through her first cup of tea, Beverly watched as Jean Luc emerged from her bedroom and tugged his uniform top down with a snap. He had arrived just as she had gotten out of the shower, preparing to dress, breakfast, and go to the quarantine.

 

Instead, after hastily wrapping herself in a robe, she had healed the cut on his forehead while listening to his brief description of last night with Therese, smiling at his story about the wayward padd and O'Brien. He had stood up, kissed her thank you...and things had kind of gone on from there....

 

She knew that making love this morning had been a reassurance of sorts, and, wisely or not, she felt a little calmer, a little more confident that, indeed, this would work out. She was not prepared to see Therese just yet, was not even prepared to discuss her overly long or in any great depth, but she could handle the fact that Jean Luc needed and wanted to deal with her in the best way that he could. Tried to handle it, anyway, she thought grimly.

 

Picard's thoughts, on the other hand, had shifted away from personal matters, and had gone on to consider the rapidity with which all the players were arriving on the station.

 

"The _Enterprise_ will be here this afternoon, and Admiral Hendrickson is scheduled to arrive late tonight," he said as he strode towards the table she had placed their light breakfast upon. He frowned, and added, "Blake ought to show up shortly after that: he's aboard Querina Rossi's ship, the _Tacumseh_. If I know her, she'll be here ahead of schedule just so she can get the brass off her ship and return to what she calls 'real' work."

 

He sat down in the chair opposite her and took a quick sip of tea. "That means everything is going to come to a head shortly. I just wish I knew how. Hopefully, Blake will help rein in Hendrickson enough that we can at least find out what his plans are."

 

Beverly nodded, as thoughts of the morning's pleasure were supplanted by today's worry. "I've been wondering how I'm going to access my old files without raising undue suspicion."

 

Picard looked up at her as he reached for a croissant. "No problem. I plan on boarding the _Enterprise_ as soon as she arrives. Will needs to know the situation here. I'll download what you need, and send it to you."

 

"Could Julian go with you?"

 

Picard frowned. "Why?"

 

"He'll be able to take a look at my records there where no one is looking. I am scheduled for quarantine, so if I'm not there, it'll look unusual. And, obviously, if I'm there, I can't very well work on what we download. If Bashir accompanies you, say, to take a look at the new EMH they've got, he can work with the data there, unobserved.

 

Picard nodded, swallowed his bite of croissant, and said, "Fine. I'll arrange that he visit. We're looking at having EMH's on strategic Space Stations anyways, as part of our emergency protocol."

 

"Two birds, one stone," Beverly smiled.

 

Rising, he nodded, leaned over and kissed her absentmindedly on the cheek. "It's efficient. I'd better be on my way. I'm not certain what is happening at lunchtime, but I'll call you."

 

Beverly nodded, liking the gentle familiarity of the kiss, but not the habit she knew it sprang from. There would be much to accustom herself to, she thought. So very much...and to not resent...she stopped her thoughts firmly.

 

Looking at the table, she sighed. He had taken only one bite of his croissant...

 

 

  * * *

 

 

They were running late, and he no longer expected to manage the time for lunch before the _Enterprise_ arrived.

 

Bending over, Picard peered into the Cardassian version of a Jeffries tube and nodded. He was still somewhat skeptical, but it made sense, he supposed, to run the emergency computer data relays along here. "And how long do you estimate the procedure would take, ensign?"

 

Turning a glowing face towards him, the ensign smiled. The entire morning had been spent pointing out the advantages of doing things as her team of experts had proposed they be done, and she was sure this question was a sign she was close to winning him over. "We could have it done in less than two weeks, sir, and as I said, you wouldn't regret the decision. This will save at least thirty man hours, and also provide the relays with the extra protection of being..."

 

A communication signal interrupted the ensign's assurances, and she respectfully stopped speaking immediately. Both straightened from their crouched positions, and the young woman watched as Picard nodded a silent apology and tapped his commbadge, saying, "Picard here."

 

"Admiral Picard, the Enterprise has just docked, twenty minutes ahead of their revised schedule."

 

Ensign Churchill watched a smile spread across the admiral's stern features. He shook his head and she heard him murmur in an amused undertone, "Someone has got to teach that man a schedule's something you try to keep, not something you try to beat!"

 

His face resuming its former neutral appearance, he instructed in a normal tone, "Acknowledged. Please inform Captain Riker that I would like to meet with him, on the _Enterprise_, at 0100. I will contact him personally before leaving." Tapping his comm badge, he next contacted Doctor Bashir, and then, with a much lighter heart, allowed the ensign to resume her endeavors to win him over to their proposed plan.

 

  * * *

 

 

Striding through the corridors of the _Enterprise_ on his way to meet with Riker, Picard's mind reeled with a myriad of thoughts. He had known this would be the case, that there would be thoughts and feelings he would want to savor or examine, and so had specifically requested that Riker not bother meeting him in the transporter room. Understanding, Riker had agreed to ignore protocol and patiently wait in his ready room.

 

Glancing around him as he walked, Jean Luc realized that this _Enterprise_ no longer felt even remotely his. 'His', he supposed, would always be the 'D', no matter that it was the 'E' he had left to take on his present position, and the life with Therese that had accompanied it.

 

But, he admitted, if not 'home', this _Enterprise_ certainly felt like an echo of it. Expecting to feel shadows of regret over his decision to leave, he was pleasantly surprised to find none. It was nice to visit, nice to again walk these familiar corridors, but he felt no desire to command her again. Perhaps, he smiled to himself, because I command a fleet of her?

 

His smile faded as he thought of the Dominion situation, and the likelihood of his having all too much time aboard starships, should that threat become reality.

 

Pushing those thoughts away, he inhaled deeply, and thought of the unexpected fulfillment he found in what he did now. He had been content here on this _Enterprise_ - confident in his position and his abilities - but the decision to leave had been a good one. He was satisfied with his life, satisfied with the events that had occurred over the last months, and proud of his contributions. On a more

personal note, he could also say he was satisfied with what had been his life with Therese...

 

...and hopeful for the life he now dreamed of with Beverly.

 

Stepping out of the tubolift when its doors opened onto the bridge, he paused a moment, enjoying a sense of deja vu. It felt like the first time he had stepped on this deck, he thought.

 

Almost.

 

He smiled at the sense of rightness he had in knowing he was aboard this ship to greet her captain, not to command her. Glancing at the skeleton crew present and recognizing no one, he nodded and turned towards the ready room door.

 

End

Complications 27/42

TITLE: Complications 28/42

AUTHOR: Mariel

SERIES: TNG

PART: 28/42

RATING:

CODES: f/P P/C

 

 

At the sound of the chime, William Riker rose and strode towards the door to welcome his former captain. "Admiral, it's good to see you!"

 

"It's good to see you as well, Captain!" Picard said, looking up at the bear of a man he had called Number One for so many years. Shaking

the hand he was offered warmly, he commented in a dry tone, "Looks as though you've managed to keep this _Enterprise_ in one piece..."

 

"Of course, sir; there's the added incentive of this one being mine!" he said, his tone proudly possessive.

 

Picard returned Riker's grin with a smile of his own, and commented, "So it's only other people's toys you treat so cavalierly!"

 

...and watched as Will Riker's glance strayed to his brow. He groaned inwardly. Riker had the best information network in the fleet, but for him to already know whatever story was going around about last night...How did he do it?

 

Riker caught the look of resignation in the other man's eye and smiled inwardly. Just knowing that Picard knew that he knew...he stifled a chuckle and, his eyes glimmering with barely suppressed humour, indicated the ready room sofa with a wave of his hand.

 

"Please, we'd might as well be comfortable. What is it that brings you here, sir?"

 

Picard raised an eyebrow, surprised. Will was going to leave the small talk for later. Interesting.

 

From his place on the sofa, he looked across at his old second in command as he seated himself comfortably in an accompanying chair. Following Riker's lead, he got right down to business. "I need to download some files from Medical, Will."

 

"Medical files?"

 

"Remember our first year out or so, when we ended back at Federation headquarters, phasering admirals taken over by those alien life forms?"

 

Will's brow furrowed as he cast his thoughts back. They had been having an adventure almost every week back then.

 

His eyes lit up when he remembered. "Yes, yes I do! But what about it?"

 

"I need whatever information Doctor Crusher recorded concerning them."

 

There was a significant silence in the room, then a quiet statement from Riker. "They're back."

 

Unsurprised he had jumped to the right conclusion, Picard nodded. "We never did find out what the beacon was for, or where exactly it went. It looks as though they are trying again."

 

"Headquarters?"

 

Picard shook his head. "No, it appears they have been placed in about a dozen people that have been put into a coma of some sort. The implanted aliens themselves seem to be in stasis. It looks to Dr. Crusher as though they're ready to be..." he searched for the appropriate word, couldn't find it, and settled upon: "...'woken up' at any time." Quickly, he filled Riker in on what he knew to date.

 

"So what's Star Fleet and the Federation going to do?" Riker asked when Picard had finished.

 

The admiral moved uncomfortably. "They are not cognizant of the situation. To my knowledge, only Admiral Hendrickson knows something, and he has gone to great lengths to ensure that no one else is aware of the alien's presence - or even of the existence of the crewmen presently acting as hosts for them."

 

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees and, gesturing with his hands, said, "Will, I need to find out what Hendrickson has planned...and to find out what the aliens are all about. Last time, we spent all our energy trying to outmaneuver them, and ended up killing them all. Perhaps this time, we'll have the opportunity to get to know what appears to be our enemy."

 

"They didn't look like something we could have any sort of communication with."

 

"Perhaps not, but it would be worth a try, at least."

 

Remembering the almost scorpion-like creatures that had scuttled their way across the floor at the Admiralty, Riker kept his skepticism about that to himself. "So, what are you planning, and how can we help?"

by Riker's automatic offer to assist, Picard said, "As I mentioned, I'll need the downloads. Doctor Bashir will be arriving on board for a tour of your medical facilities, and to take a look at your new EMH. While he is here, you will access for him the medical data Doctor Crusher has filed, and give it to him. He will correlate it with the data he and Beverly have already uploaded."

 

Riker nodded his head. "Sounds good to me. Is there anything else we can do?"

 

"At the moment, it seems more a matter of waiting, Will. Hendrickson arrives late tonight, and I expect things to start moving after that. I'm certain he will be going to the quarantine as soon as possible after his arrival. What he does there, and what he does afterwards, will have to be carefully monitored. I have reason to believe that sickbay facilities were covertly used to implant the aliens, so the quarantine may be used in a similar manner, transferring the aliens to others. That's my best guess, anyways."

 

Bent elbows still resting on his knees, he steepled his fingers and leaned his head forward to touch his chin to them. "We have got to somehow figure out what he's intending to do here. I have no idea how many people he has working for him, or even how many at Headquarters know of this. I don't like the secrecy of it all, though. There's something wrong, and since I'm here, I had might as well find out what it is."

 

"What about Admiral Blake? If he's on the way, is he also a part of Hendrickson's maneuvering?"

 

Jean Luc shook his head. "Blake was instrumental in my getting here without suspicion. He's been worried about Hendrickson for a while." He raised his eyes to meet Riker's. "At least we'll have someone on our side."

 

"Without suspicion?" Riker repeated, eyes narrowed.

 

Picard looked a little uncomfortable and leaned back into the sofa, pulling at his tunic. "Yes, well, I had already determined that something was amiss here. He provided me with an official reason for being here so that I could find out just what it was."

 

The younger man frowned, knowing he was not getting the full picture, but not knowing whether it was being deliberately withheld or whether he was just not 'getting it'. "What made you think there was something going on?" he asked.

 

Picard shifted, crossed one leg over the other, and tugged at his uniform top again. "Beverly disappeared. Hendrickson ordered her to DS9 to care for the crew infected with the aliens. He maintained such secrecy that even her staff didn't know where she was, and all her communications were monitored in order to ensure that things stayed that way. Luckily, she managed to get a message to me. Then, it was simply a matter of getting here to find out what was going on."

 

Riker kept his glee at the thought of Beverly's plea for help and Picard running to her rescue to himself. Straight faced, he said, "Sounds like an interesting story, sir."

 

The admiral nodded and allowed a smile to curve his lips - Riker didn't know the details - Miles *could* keep a secret- providing he was instructed to! "It is, Will, and one I'll eventually have the time to tell."

 

Riker nodded, knowing that he had gotten as much information on Picard's arrival at the station as he would get at the moment from the man himself. Harking back to his original thought, he asked, "And you don't think Blake is part of it?"

 

Picard shook his head, frowning slightly. "No, if he were, why would he actively work to get me here? He's the one who asked me to keep an eye on things."

 

"What are his thoughts on the situation?"

 

Picard shook his head. "I haven't yet informed him. There's been no opportunity, really, and to be honest, I've felt reluctant to speak of it to anyone yet."

 

"You spoke to me."

 

He smiled. "So I did! I need your help, remember? And besides, old habit dies hard, Number One."

 

Riker grinned. "Something for which I am most grateful, sir."

 

His smile dimmed as he continued, "But I've got a bad feeling about this. You remember how difficult it was last time..."

 

"We can discuss this more once Hendrickson has arrived and we've a hint of what he's up to. Perhaps Deanna will be able to help us. We'll talk about it later," Picard said. The admiral's tone, Riker recognized, effectively closed the subject for the time being.

 

 

Picard watched as Riker nodded, his features tightening at the mention of the Counselor's name. Waiting a few moments, Picard broke the silence between them by commenting quietly, "I've seen Miles O'Brien a number of times; he and Keiko are doing well. Worf I've spoken to only twice. He seems settled, though."

 

Will's eyes were sad when he nodded again. Recognizing Picard's unspoken offer to talk, he hesitated, then said in a low voice, "Being here won't be easy for her. She's still..." he hesitated again, slumping back into his chair, "...his leaving was so abrupt...they've never really spoken since, you know...Then the shock of his marrying..." He gestured with his hand, and continued, "She's reasonably happy - I try to make her happy, at least, and I know she loves me, but there will always be thoughts about what might have been, I think."

 

"It had looked as though all three of you had gone on with your lives so well..." Raising understanding eyes to meet Riker's, Picard added, "...It's never quite that easy, though, is it?"

 

Riker shook his head, recognizing the voice of experience in the admiral's words. "It's strange; we've talked about it, you know, and she says that if she and Worf had found the common ground they'd searched for, she knows she would still have always had a part of her with me, wondering..." He shrugged, and continued, "Now, instead of that, she is with me, wondering what it might have been like..."

 

"But she loves you."

 

"Differently than she does Worf."

 

"Treasure the love, Will. It's a very precious commodity. It will strengthen both of you."

 

Surprised at how deeply personal Picard's words were, Riker felt a sense of relief wash over him as he recognized the wisdom in them. The older man had never spoken so obviously from his own life's lessons, and he found the words and the paternal manner in which they were offered strengthening in a way he could not have explained.

 

Still, shocked as he was that Picard would offer such personal insights, he knew enough of the man not to yet ask about either Beverly or Therese, no matter how tempting the thought. Instead, he allowed a silence to settle between them comfortably, then quietly commented, "Not to change the subject, sir, but will we all be able to get together? Deanna *is* looking forward to seeing Beverly. She misses their talks." The corners of his eyes crinkled as he continued, "She claims no one has quite the same irreverent sense of humour. And even I have to admit the _Enterprise_ is a little less entertaining without her here."

 

Picard nodded, his face softening, "Beverly is looking forward to a reunion as well. I've no doubt but what they'll have the chance for a few good long talks; And I believe a table has been reserved in Quark's for tonight, in case any of you are available."

 

Riker grinned. "Enough said! I'll have everyone there at whatever time is best for you," he exclaimed, silently wondering if Therese would be there as well. It would, he feared, make things uncomfortable. He had managed to put aside his resentment over the effect Therese's leaving with Picard had on Beverly, but the fact of the matter was, he knew, the two women had never cared much for each other. Strange, he thought, how two such unalike women....

 

Picard watched tolerantly as Riker became lost in thought again, then began wondering how things would go that evening with Therese and Beverly. He sighed, and began to rise. "I've got to meet someone this afternoon, so I suppose I'd best be getting back." His eyes drifted around the Ready Room, and he said, "It was good to see her, again, Will."

 

At the sound of Picard's voice, Will looked up, then rose quickly. "You know you're welcome any time, sir," he said, falling into step with him as he made his way to the door.

 

Deciding an offence would be the best defense, Picard belayed any attempt Riker might make to comment on his wounded brow by asking, "You have your full ship's complement for your Beta Quadrant tour presently on board?"

 

Riker nodded and smiled, innocently falling for the distraction. "All but a sciences officer and two engineers we're picking up at..."

 

This time, Picard enjoyed company as he retraced his steps through the _Enterprise_.

 

It wasn't until the form of his visitor had dissolved in a glittering confetti of transporter light that Riker recognized Picard's brilliant diversionary tactics.

 

 

  * * *

 

 

"No cherie, you will go without me. This is a reunion of old friends. I will not intrude...and my being there, under the circumstances would cause discomfort, do you not think?" She watched with sad amusement as a tension imperceptibly eased in him. There was a relief not even he would probably admit to, but she knew it was there.

 

"You always ease the way for me, don't you?" he asked, recognizing what she was doing.

 

"And you have not always done the same for me?"

 

"Well, circumstances are a little different at the moment."

 

She nodded. "Yes, but not so much as one would think. We have to take care, mon cher, and my presence tonight..." She shook her head. "To be honest, I am not ready yet, either. And I do not expect that Beverly would be happy with my presence." There was a pause between them.

 

"It will be as I say, Jean Luc," she said firmly.

 

He recognized the tone and the look that accompanied it, but felt compelled to continue. "I don't want you sitting here alone, Therese. It might be awkward at first, but once people are aware...." he protested, feeling torn.

 

Therese touched his cheek softly, her eyes glimmering with warm amusement. "Cherie, we are not fighting over you. We are re-arranging ourselves to where we should be. It will take time, oui?

 

She dropped her hand and began to turn from him. "We have never been terribly comfortable with one another. Why force the issue?"

 

Moving away, she walked to the viewport and looked outside, her expression unreadable. She sighed deeply, then turned to face him with a truth she could have told no other, "I have these feelings of being a wife replaced, cherie. I know that they are silly, but they are still there. I want what is best for everyone, and even though I have Henri to be concerned with, there are still these feelings to be dealt with."

 

He closed the distance she had put between them and put his arms around her, not knowing what to say, but wanting her to know she was not alone in her feelings.

 

She allowed herself to relax against him for a moment, content with what he offered. Sparing a thought for Beverly, she looked up at him and said, "And Beverly. She will regard me as the discarded wife, yes? Still a threat so long as I am present."

 

She leaned her forehead against his chest. She was going to have to separate herself from him, for both their sakes. It was too easy to fall back into their comfortable ways, to add complications, rather than smooth them over. The visit to see Henri, she knew, was a step in the right direction. Lifting her head, she stepped back. "I may see Henri tomorrow morning, Beverly says. She will meet me here at 0900 if it can be arranged, and take me to where he is. Make sure she wakes in time if you are out very late, cherie."

 

Jean Luc nodded, recognizing both the significance of her wording and the gentle dismissal. His heart felt oddly heavy.

 

Inhaling deeply, he said, "I will."

 

Therese nodded and began to move away.

 

"And Therese?"

 

She hesitated when he did not let go of her, and looked up questioningly.

 

"You may not be there, but I will speak of you tonight."

 

Therese threw her head back, allowing a trill of laughter to lighten the air between them. She stood back and looked at him, then, still chuckling at his audacity, and she reached up to gently touch his cheek with her lips. "Tu as fou, cherie, mais je t'aime!"

 

 

  * * *

 

 

Deanna fidgeted with the clasp of her dress. "Damn!"

 

Beverly raised her brow, "Just a little nervous, are we, Deanna?"

 

The raven haired woman threw Beverly a look designed, if not to kill, then certainly to maim. Its recipient, however, continued to smile, unharmed.

 

"Won't work on me, and you know it, so give." Her smile faded and her voice became softer, though, as she continued, "This is going to be difficult for you isn't it?"

 

Troi nodded, not daring to look at her friend just yet. "I hadn't expected it to be quite like this. I ought to have been able to compartmentalize my feelings, box those for him away, and gone on with my life...." Her voice trailed away.

 

Inhaling unsteadily, she turned thought-darkened eyes toward her friend. "But it's not always that easy, is it? How have you been doing?"

 

Beverly shook her head. "We're not talking about me at the moment, Deanna. How long has it been since you've had a good heart to heart with someone besides Will?"

 

Deanna smiled. "When did I see you last? Eight months ago?"

 

"That means you've got to send me comms more often De, this isn't good for you."

 

Deanna smiled faintly. "The counselor counseled. Why does that always sound so trite?"

 

"Stop avoiding the topic. What's seeing him again going to do to you?"

 

Deanna sat down, keeping her eyes on her clasped hands. "I'm not sure. A lot of time has passed. I know I have feelings, but I've had them long enough now that I'm not even certain they're real. I don't know how I'll feel - he's married now, gone on with his life - just as I have..." She paused and then admitted honestly, "...well, as I almost have."

 

"So you and Will?"

 

"In many ways we're similar to the way you and the captain were the before he left the _Enterprise_..." She hesitated, but feeling no adverse emotion from Beverly continued truthfully, "...close..." she smiled, in spite of herself, "...very close."

 

"But?"

 

"But I can't quite go further than telling him that yes, I love him, but..."

 

Beverly felt her heart sink and offered sadly, "I imagine the 'but' part is difficult for you both."

 

Deanna felt a tension she had held for too long release. How good the understanding felt. Beverly had not only experienced this, she had lived this for years...and survived it. Their situations, though by no means identical, were similar enough. Turning black eyes towards her friend, she relaxed into the empathy and understanding Beverly felt for her.

 

Here, she thought, was a perfect example of real empathy, of truly knowing how another felt. "Empathy the hard way" her mother called it. Thinking of Beverly and Jean Luc Picard, she nodded inwardly. Definitely the hard way.

 

"It's difficult, yes. Will is wonderful, and we are able to talk about it, but I know he's worried about tonight, worried that I'll be hurt somehow."

 

"Do you think you will be?"

 

"I can't see how I wouldn't be, in some way. I loved him, Beverly. I thought we were going to make it. The reasons for his leaving, for his choosing to come here to DS9..." she splayed her fingers and lifted her hands palm up. "I never understood."

 

"He was afraid."

 

"Perhaps, but I also think that, deep down, he didn't feel comfortable. I was too much the antithesis of everything that the Klingon world stands for. Jadzia, with her experience, with her love and understanding of the Klingon culture, really was better for him."

 

Beverly winced at her choice of words, and pushed away the thought that she was advising for Deanna the same relationship she knew Jean Luc had shared with Therese. Taking a deep breath and letting it out audibly, she said forcefully, "In that case, you make the best of your life you can, woman. You have love," she looked at Deanna straight in the eye, "a good, trusting love with a wonderful man, and the potential to enjoy your life, if you allow yourself. Don't blow it in regrets and what ifs."

 

Deanna smiled. "You do have a way of kicking people in the seat of the pants, don't you?"

 

"I've seen you do a fair job of it too!"

 

The two women smiled at one another.

 

"I'm glad we'll have a few days to catch up. You've been very reticent about your life the past few months."

 

Beverly nodded, carefully controlling her emotions. It wasn't time to let people know yet. She and Jean Luc had agreed on that. "I don't think I've really all that much to tell, but I'd love to chat! Right now, however,I believe we've got a reunion, of sorts, to go to."

 

Deanna nodded. There was a change in Beverly, a happiness and a sense of stability that she could not shield, no matter how well she had developed her ability to hide herself from Deanna's gentle empathic probing. Glancing sharply at her red haired friend, she wondered if Therese Winthrop would be present tonight.

 

End

Complcations 28/42

TITLE: Complications 29/42

AUTHOR: Mariel

SERIES: TNG

PART: 29/42

RATING:

CODES: f/P P/C

 

 

Disclaimer: You know it, they know it, even I know it...The only thing mine are Therese, Henri, and the name given the aliens...

 

Complications 29/42

by: Mariel

 

 

Bashir set the padd down in horror. He had checked the data three times, then a fourth, just to be sure. In his mind's eye, the picture of the crewmen, lined up quietly on their beds, had just became vastly more sinister. He shuddered.

 

He had found slight, but fundamental, difference between the readings of the aliens Doctor Crusher had recorded on the _Enterprise_ and those taken in their quarantine. Running shaking fingers through his hair, he knew that no matter how he looked at it, those differences could be explained by one thing.

 

The aliens implanted into the men and women in quarantine were pregnant - or whatever the alien's gestational equivalent was.

 

There weren't just 13 aliens presently in quarantine - potentially, there were thousands.

 

 

  * * *

 

 

Riker, Deanna, Miles, Data, Geordi, Worf, Beverly,and Picard sat at a crowded table on the upper balcony at Quark's. Food had been served and eaten, and now everyone had settled in for drinks and more conversation.

 

The music and noise from the gaming tables below, the muted lighting, the layers of conversation, both at their table and those surrounding it, provided a warming cacophony of sound that Jean Luc readily relaxed into. Settling back onto his chair, he observed the others.

 

Seeing everyone here together like this gave him a warm feeling of contentment. This was his family, the people he had shared his life with -and entrusted his life to- for ten years. In his entire Star Fleet career, he thought, the lives of these people, more than any others, had become important to him. It felt good to share a table with them again, to share their stories and their comradery.

 

He watched with amusement as, usual small talk gotten out of the way, discreet attempts began in earnest to determine how much truth there were to the rumors about Beverly and himself - and about a fight between him and Therese.

 

Neither he, nor Beverly, had any intention of enlightening them. After so long a time -and so many mis-steps- they were protective of what they now shared. It seemed too soon for the intrusion of others, and so they had determined not to reveal their new relationship just yet.

 

This did not stop their friends from wanting to delve into the matter for themselves, however.

 

The first thrust and parry came, as expected, from Riker. Watching carefully for Beverly's reaction, he commented to Picard, "I spoke with Therese as she was preparing to leave Earth. She was looking forward to coming here. It was good to see her again. She hasn't changed much."

 

Picard smiled. "She said much the same of you when she mentioned your contacting her; and Therese is Therese, she'll never change."

 

"I was surprised she didn't come tonight."

 

"I think she felt she'd be de trops. She knows she'll have the chance to see everyone at some point."

 

Riker glanced at Deanna. Nothing in that. No reaction from Beverly, either.

 

Smiling up at Riker as she moved against him, Deanna leaned over a little, and her voiced raised over the noise, asked, "Will she be here long?"

 

"It depends. She left her return open with the Institute, and I haven't set a date of departure yet." He smiled at Will, "I suppose you could say we're 'playing it by ear'."

 

She glanced at Riker, slightly disappointed, then settled back into her chair. Nothing.

 

"What about you, Doctor Crusher?" Miles asked, from the opposite side of the round table. "I'm starting to get used to seeing you here. Do you expect to stay much longer?"

 

Beverly smiled. "Why do I have the feeling everyone wants to get rid of us?!" Lifting her hands slightly, palm up, she shrugged. "It's still up in the air. I'm close to finishing my research, but it's difficult to say."

 

Miles looked at Deanna and shrugged. Nada.

 

For the next while, Beverly and Jean Luc managed to keep the conversation directed away from their personal lives, and except for a few more mentions of Therese, only the occasional glance or humourous aside to one another drew any attention.

 

As conversation ebbed and flowed around the table, Deanna allowed herself to settle into the emotions of those around her. She had gotten over her shock at seeing Worf again, hugged him hello, smiling at his discomfort, then resumed her place beside Will, drawing calm from the hand he placed, for a moment, on her shoulder.

 

Worf's presence was not so disturbing as she had feared. That she still cared for him, there was no doubt, but, seeing him here in his chosen environment, she could detach herself enough to see that she did have a life after love -a life she could be happy in. There was regret, yes, but he had perhaps made the right decision for them both. His marriage, she thought, seemed more than indicative of that, and like it or not, he appeared happy. Jadzia had been good for him.

 

Shifting away from personal thoughts, Deanna gently skipped along the emotions of her other friends, stopping finally at the two who were of particular interest to her: Beverly Crusher and Jean Luc Picard. They were the focal point of the table this evening, and there were unanswered questions here about the two of them. She was determined to get the answers.

 

It was not going to be easy. As yet, she had been able to determine little from either of them. Picard was as tightly controlled as always -drat that mind meld with Sarek- though she felt the warm wave of affection he felt for the people he sat with. He was contented, pleased, relaxed.

 

Smiling, she turned her attention to Beverly. Slowly her smile faded away, and her brows slowly drew together in a faint frown. Beverly had a block against her firmly in place and was definitely trying to cover something up. She was enjoying the evening, felt warm affection for the people she was with, but in her, Deanna could also sense a kind of tension....

 

 

 

Picard, deep in conversation with Riker, pretended not to notice when Beverly crossed one knee over the other under the table and ran her foot up and down the calf of his leg. Forcing himself not to look at her, he nodded and continued his conversation, outwardly calm.

 

Leaning against him slightly in order to also hear what Riker was saying, she placed a hand on the seat of his chair. Shifting slightly, he trapped her fingers beneath him. Here, he smiled inwardly, was 'the game' in another, more private form.

 

As the conversation around the table shifted and reformed, he turned away from Riker and twisted to his right, in order to talk with Worf, who was on Beverly's right. Placing an arm across the back of her chair, he leaned back to speak behind Beverly's back, allowing her to respond to something Deanna had said. Their bodies touched just enough to engender little electric shocks of anticipation.

 

 

 

Deanna glanced at Picard sharply, hit by a wave of self-satisfaction from him she knew was very out of character. As he had kept his emotions very controlled tonight, the strength of it hit her hard.

 

Probing slightly, though, she still came up against walls. Frustrated, she decided to try another tack. Looking at Beverly, she began to observe the two of them professionally.

 

The table was a small one, and to accommodate everyone around it, the chairs were pushed together closely. That meant that some contact with the person sitting next to you was unavoidable.The admiral and Beverly however, were touching perhaps just a little more than anyone else. Shoulders or arms always seeming to graze one another's as they shifted in their chairs. They seemed to lean towards one another slightly, even when looking in opposite directions, and....

 

Her eyes widened as Picard turned, then leaned in front of Beverly slightly to better hear something Worf and Geordi was saying. She followed the trajectory of where Beverly's hand must be if her arm was at that angle....

 

His thigh...Gods!

 

Standing abruptly, she said, "Beverly, may I speak with you please? Now?"

 

Surprised, Beverly nodded and rose. With a glance at Jean Luc, she left, hurrying to follow Deanna's swiftly retreating form.

 

Catching up, Beverly said, "Deanna, what's..."

 

At the sound of her name, Deanna swung around. "You rat! You're having an affair with him, aren't you! And Therese right here on the station! I can't BELIEVE you'd do that! I can't believe HE'D do that! AND," she added even more vehemently, "I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU DIDN'T TELL ME!"

 

Beverly stepped back, overwhelmed by her outburst.

 

"De, I..."

 

"What ARE you thinking of?" she exclaimed in a forceful whisper. "You are having an affair with someone you weren't prepared to have a committed relationship with! Do you think that's a sensible way to handle your feelings for him? And what about Therese? How long has this been going on? By the Sacred Chalice, I swear I can't believe he'd act this dishonorably. Nor you. You're both gone mad." She paused to take a deep breath, and, grabbing Beverly by the arms, shook her. "And WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME!"

 

"De, I...we..."

 

"Oh," she said, lowering her voice only slightly. Stepping back, hands on her hips, she scolded, "Oh, it's 'we' now that I know, is it? And just how long do you expect to keep this little secret?"

 

She waited, glaring at her friend, totally shocked that she had kept something so momentous from her -and carefully hiding the elation she felt over the fact that Beverly was *finally* doing it with the captain...er admiral.

 

Beverly, still nonplused at Deanna's outbreak, concentrated on how to explain, and allowed the dam she had built up around her emotions to crumble.

 

Deanna's eyes widened as Beverly continued to search for words. A smile that gradually turned itself into a smirk curled her lips as she felt Beverly's emotions spill forth. Knowingly, she commented in a lower tone, "It's that good, is it?"

 

Beverly stopped thinking, inhaled deeply, and let it out in a shaky, contented gust. "Oh, yes."

 

"And getting better all the time?"

 

Beverly nodded, grinning. "Yup."

 

Deanna squealed in delight and hugged her friend tight. "I'm so happy you two came to your senses!"

 

Standing back, she looked around at the people staring at them. "Ummm, perhaps we should go somewhere a little more out of the way."

 

Beverly nodded, "Perhaps."

 

Finding a small, empty table, they sat.

 

Deanna looked at Beverly. She tried not to react to the wave of feeling her friend was now broadcasting, but couldn't prevent the echoing tingle that coursed through herself. "Oh, Beverly! It's really that good?"

 

"De!"

 

"Sorry. I can't help it. You have no idea the strength of what I'm sensing right now. It's very...sexual when you think about him." She grinned and leaned forward a little. "I always thought there must be an awful lot of passion under that calm exterior of his..."

 

Beverly blushed. "You are not being funny!"

 

Deanna's teeth gleamed. "Maybe *you* don't think so! *I'm* all but rolling on the floor laughing!"

 

Beverly smiled in spite of her embarrassment. "It is rather wonderful."

 

"And you're happy?"

 

"Yes."

 

Motioning to a waiter, Deanna ordered two drinks, then turned to her friend. "We'll have to return by the time these are finished. Talk fast. They'll start looking for us if we're gone too long."

 

Beverly sighed and began...

 

 

 

Riker, seeing the admiral stiffen, turned in the direction of Picard's gaze. The two women were finally coming back. Taking one look at Deanna's face, he almost let out a whoop. She knew. She had gotten the story, whatever it was. Bless the woman, but she was good! Turning back to the admiral, he wiped the grin off his face and said, "They must have had some talk - they were gone half an hour."

 

"You were keeping time, Will?"

 

The bearded man nodded. "I like to keep track of my crew."

 

Picard directed an assessing look at the two women as they resumed their seats, and frowned slightly. His crew wasn't all Riker liked keeping track of. Looking at Deanna's face when she nodded her hellos, his frown turned into a look of resignation. Deanna knew. Now Riker would know, and that meant...he sighed, and looked at Beverly. Beverly threw him a brief look of apology, and opened her mouth to speak when her comm badge signaled.

 

Quickly she tapped it and responded, "Crusher here."

 

"Doctor Crusher. Admiral Hendrickson has arrived, and asks that you meet him immediately in docking section A3."

 

Surprised eyes flew to meet Picard's, then she nodded and responded. "Acknowledged. I'm on my way."

 

"He's a bit ahead of schedule."

 

She nodded. "Seems to be the trend."

 

"His order of business is interesting."

 

She nodded. "And what we expected. Walk me to the lift?"

 

Remembering they were not alone, Beverly shot a warning glance at Deanna as she rose to leave. Deanna sat demurely, refusing to meet her friend's eyes. Picard tossed a half-hearted, resigned look at Riker, who looked back trying not to grin, the air of satisfaction around him thick enough to cut with a knife.

 

Sighing heavily, Jean Luc rose and turned to the others. "If you'll excuse us. I'll be back shortly." Beverly smiled her good-byes, and they left, Picard in particular feeling it might be wiser to simply not return.

 

"He's going to want to go to quarantine."

 

"Of course. Watch yourself - and him."

 

She nodded and asked, "Later?"

 

"Later. I'll be waiting in your quarters."

 

She smiled. "Where else?"

 

The thought reassured them both.

 

 

  * * *

 

 

Hendrickson strode into the quarantine ahead of Beverly, and stopped short, awe of the Decree's power filling him. Here were the Seeds of the Promise, ready to create anew.

 

Closing Hendrickson's eyes, the Srn'n filled his lungs with air slowly, calming itself and the body it used. Eyes reopened, he looked at the room. Not very prepossessing, he thought, considering what it contained. He had known the room had been thrown together in a hurry, but to have them so housed....

 

The Srn'n found it difficult to keep Hendrickson's voice steady as he pointed, and barked out questions. "These wires - shouldn't they be covered and out of the way? And the consoles - why weren't they integrated into the wall systems?" He whirled at Crusher, "And what's the smell in the air? Is it safe for them to breathe here?"

 

Taken aback at the admiral's concern and his implicit criticism of patient accommodations, Crusher replied, "Admiral, please remember that this is a temporary quarantine only. Once these patients have been moved, this area will return to its original use as a place for storage -it was not considered necessary to worry about decor when it was set up. I assure you, it is a sterile, safe environment for them; though we have relaxed some of the quarantine regulations now that it seems obvious there is nothing contagious involved here."

 

The admiral did not seem appeased by her comments, but she continued anyway, "...And the air is triple-filtered. The odor you smell is completely harmless -a combination of what happens to the air when filtered so often, and the natural odor you can't escape when you're working in an area that has new equipment." She smiled a little, "If you think it's bad now, you should have been here two weeks ago!"

 

Hendrickson did not return her smile. Instead, he turned his gaze back to the patients lined along the walls. "Are they all fine? You've detected no reason for their being in this state?"

 

Crusher readily accepted the change in topic and nodded her head. "They're in good health, sir - considering they've been comatose for we don't know how long." She hesitated. "We'd have been better able to treat them had we had more information..."

 

Hendrickson waved his hand impatiently, still intent on the patients. "Yes, yes, of course. It's unfortunate there were no records..."

 

He turned to her, his eyes piercing. "What is important is that they are well cared for."

 

Beverly opened her mouth to speak, then decided against it. Better for now just to observe.

 

 

  * * *

 

 

Picard had been on the comm, arranging an early meeting, by 0600. Apologizing for the early wake up, he had asked Deanna and Riker to join he and Beverly for breakfast. Riker, understanding that communications might be monitored, asked no questions, and merely nodded, saying he and Deanna would look forward to it.

 

Arriving, they were disappointed to find Julian Bashir, DS9's chief medical officer, sitting comfortably in one of the chairs in the living area.

 

The doctor's presence forestalled any comments about the location of the meeting, or the fact that Beverly wasn't yet in appearance. Instead, Riker contented himself with a long look at the bedroom door, followed by a knowing look at Picard. Pleased when he saw his silent innuendo hit home, he patiently went through introductions, and willingly took the coffee Picard offered him as he sat down.

 

"Morning," Beverly said as she swept into the room. "Sorry," she apologized, "late night with Hendrickson."

 

Deanna shot Riker a warning glance as he suppressed a grin and a flippant comment.

 

As soon as they were settled, Picard suggested that Bashir tell everyone what he had discovered the night before.

 

Bashir took a deep breath. "I am aware that Admiral Picard has filled you in on our situation with the crewmen in quarantine. It would appear, however, that we have a much more serious problem on our hands than we originally expected....

 

 

End

Complications 29/42

TITLE: Complications 30/42

AUTHOR: Mariel

SERIES: TNG

PART 30/42

RATING:

CODES: f/P P/C

 

Bashir had finished explaining the situation, and questions and answers were being tossed back and forth, when Beverly's room comm

signal interrupted them. Quickly offering a "sorry," Beverly left the group around the coffee table and walked over to the screen. Activating it, she was surprised to see Therese. Surprised, until she realized what time it was.

 

"Therese! I'm sorry!"

 

Glancing over at the interested faces turned her way, she said, "We're having a meeting here, and I'm disturbing everyone. I'll take this in the bedroom. Just one moment, please."

 

Switching off the screen, she walked swiftly to the bedroom, Riker and Deanna watching her with undisguised curiosity.

 

After the doors closed behind her, she turned on the comm screen. "Therese."

 

"Good morning, doctor. Sorry if I interrupted. I call only to see if perhaps I could meet you somewhere. It would make better sense than your coming all the way here, to pick me up, yes?"

 

Beverly hesitated. "Therese, I'm afraid we may have to postpone

for a while. May I get back to you?"

 

Therese frowned. "Why? What has happened?"

 

"Everything is fine, Therese. Unfortunately, some things have occurred that I need to take care of..."

 

"Jean Luc, he is all right?"

 

Beverly felt a flash of anger. "Of course."

 

"Then what is the problem? And when may we re-schedule?"

 

"I don't know, Therese. I'll have to get back to you."

 

"You understand that I do not wish to wait? Time is becoming short, yes?"

 

Beverly opened her mouth to respond, then stopped. How much had

Jean Luc told her? Her reference to 'not much time' - did she know then, about Hendrickson's arrival, and the potential need to bring the patients out of their coma, and the aliens out of their phasic stasis?

 

Hating to have to do this, but knowing it was the only thing she could do, she said, "One moment, Therese, I'll get Jean Luc."

 

Going to the door, enduring the interested stares from her old crewmates, she asked, "Jean Luc, could I speak with you a moment?"

 

Riker and Deanna shared a glance as Picard rose and entered the bed chamber.

 

Once the doors closed behind him, Beverly quietly explained the situation. "I don't know what she knows, Jean Luc. She's quite insistent...."

 

Jean Luc nodded and strode over to the comm unit. When Therese answered his call, he spoke quickly, nodded, said "see you later," and turned to Beverly. "I've kept nothing about the situation from her, Beverly. There are no secrets, she knows everything. I've told her you will meet her and take her to see Henri at 1000 hours. She will be waiting."

 

Anger flashed through her. "I have a meeting with Hendrickson at 1100. I had hoped to..."

 

Jean Luc interrupted impatiently, "Then there'll be enough time

for her to see Henri, yes?"

 

His tone, and the way his words reflected Therese's manner of speaking, inflamed her. Grasping for her self control, she consciously tried to relax muscles seized so tight they hurt. "Yes, of course, but as I said...."

 

He placed a hand on her arm. "This is important to her. If something happens, and Henri..." he paused, his concern evident in his face, "...she needs to see him, Beverly. Try to understand."

 

//I'm trying to understand,// she thought,//how I'VE become the bad guy here.// Clenching her hands into fists, she nodded. All she had wanted to do...She stopped her thoughts, and, in a tight voice said, "I'll meet her at 1000. She'll see her Henri."

 

Turning to leave, she took a step towards the door, hesitated,

then turned towards him again. "There are more important things happening here at the moment, however, Jean Luc. Try not to let your feelings for *Therese* get in the way of realizing that."

 

Turning on her heel, she left before he could respond.

 

 

  * * *

 

 

In retrospect, Beverly realized their first meeting had been

doomed from the very start, but at least they had begun civilly enough....

 

"Thank you, Doctor, I appreciate your arranging this. I know of the difficulties involved."

 

Beverly nodded and glanced at the short woman walking beside her. "I can understand how important it must be for you to see him after so long."

 

If felt strange, she thought, to speak to the woman who had shared Jean Luc's life for the past two years. Their last meeting had not been an auspicious one, and she recalled clearly Therese's frustration and anger. Remembered even more clearly her look of resolution, and, she suspected, *victory*, when the french woman had finally walked out of sickbay, knowing that Jean Luc would leave the _Enterprise_ , and that Beverly would offer no protest, no alternative to that decision.

 

Therese, unaware of Beverly's thoughts, nodded. "I had believed him perhaps dead, though I never stopped asking Jean Luc if there had been word. To discover him alive, then to find him in such a state..." her voice petered off.

 

Beverly saw Therese's worry, and noted the tightened lines around her eyes, the shadows beneath them. She could dredge up little sympathy for her, however. Therese had found consolation with Jean Luc quickly enough after Henri's departure; she had not allowed herself solitude for long. //Gods,// she thought, fighting a wave of dislike for the woman beside her, //She has no idea what it is like to bear the burden of a loss alone...//

 

Shoving her uncharitable thoughts aside, she took Therese into quarantine, cautioned her again that she had only a short time, then equipped her with the proper attire, and led her to where Henri lay.

 

Standing to one side, she unobtrusively watched as Therese greeted her ex-husband. If she had expected a demonstration of emotion, she was sadly mistaken.

 

Therese stood quietly, hand gently clutching his arm. Her

breathing seemed to still until only the air filters humming in the background disturbed the quiet.

 

Trembling, she placed a gentle hand to his cheek. He looked as though he might wake, a part of her mind thought with disbelief, surely... "Henri?" she said, her voice low. "Mon Dieu, cherie..."

 

Beverly listened as Therese spoke rapid French words she had no means of understanding without the translator activated -

something she rather wished she had thought to do.

 

It was not too long before, finishing what she had to say, Therese bent over Henri and gently kissed him. A few murmured words, too quietly said for Beverly to hear, and Therese straightened. Body taut, she turned towards the doctor. Face calm, her delicate features tightly controlled, she said quietly, "Merci, Docteur."

 

Beverly nodded, and quickly ushered her out of the room. Once changed and safely out in the corridor, Therese said in a calm voice. "No harm will come to him?"

 

Beverly held her breath, then let it out softly as she replied, "I can't say, Therese. We will do our best."

 

"I want him freed of whatever it is that has him. Now."

 

"That's not up to me, Therese. There are other considerations..."

 

Therese held her gaze steadily. "I do not care about those. He will not continue this way."

 

Surprised at the woman's steely manner, Beverly's tone reflected her displeasure at the other woman's insistence. "It's not up to you or me. A few more days one way or the other won't matter, surely."

 

The smaller woman's eyes flickered away from Crusher. The horror of finding Henri this way, the thought of a living creature quietly residing in his body, stealing from him his consciousness, his very life...She shuddered and drew herself up, resolve strengthening her. She knew what Henri would want, and she would see to it that it was done. Turning her eyes back towards Beverly, she said firmly, "It matters to me. You will free him of this."

 

Something inside Beverly snapped. The utter selfishness of this woman appalled her. "Unfortunately, you are not the only one involved here. You may not have noticed, but there are twelve others in there with your ex-husband. There are bigger issues to be dealt with here...If it's being alone a few nights that's worrying you, don't let it. You've had no trouble finding consolation up to now. I'm sure you can arrange something -or perhaps learn to manage a little while on your own."

 

Therese inhaled sharply at the insult.

 

The sound of the slap resounded in the quiet that followed it.

 

Until the sound of another filled the air.

 

The two women glared at one another, cheeks stinging.

 

Holding a hand to her face, it was Therese who broke the shocked silence. Looking up at Beverly, a tension seems to drain from her, and there was a small glimmer of satisfaction in her eyes when she said dryly, "Well, that feels better, yes? A long time ago, I was sorry I did not do that. I am not sorry I did so today."

 

Patting her cheek gingerly with the tips of her fingers, her lips twisted wryly as she added, "I did not, however, envision having it so quickly returned!"

 

Beverly resisted raising a hand to her own cheek. She regretted her comment, regretted even more the loss of control that had precipitated her saying it. "I probably deserved it."

 

"Yes."

 

"And so did you."

 

Therese raised an eyebrow. "You will understand if I beg to differ. There were always choices offered, Beverly. I will not accept blame for the inaction of others. Do not resent me for the results of your decisions."

 

The two stood eyeing each other uncomfortably. Finally, Beverly sighed. This was getting them nowhere. Time to get back to the present dilemma. Obviously side-stepping the issue Therese had raised, she said, "Therese, all I can tell you is to speak with Jean Luc about Henri's condition. I know you're aware of the entire situation. Find out whatever he's learned this morning. See what he says. I don't make the rules or give the orders."

 

Beverly thought she caught a flash of humour in Therese's eyes when she looked up and said, "From what I understand, that is not entirely true, but I will speak to Jean Luc."

 

There was a long pause between the two as they resumed their walk away from quarantine. Shortly before they reached the corridor where their paths would part, Therese stopped. Raising eyes that again surprised Beverly by their darkness, she said earnestly, "We must re-arrange ourselves to where we should be, you understand?"

 

Not certain she was responding to the proper intent of what Therese had just said, Beverly nodded. "That's what we all want, Therese."

 

The shorter woman looked up at her counterpart and tilted her head to one side. Thoughtfully, she nodded. "Yes, of course it is..."

 

 

  * * *

 

 

Three hours later, the breakfast group had reconvened their meeting in Beverly's quarters. Deanna and Riker had arrived first, this time, then Bashir had arrived, comfortably resuming his position in the chair he had occupied that morning. Picard had been the last to arrive, having had lunch with Therese.

 

They had been talking for a few minutes, when Beverly, thinking of Hendrickson's reaction the previous evening and the detailed questions he had asked her that morning, shook her head. "He was awfully concerned about their well-being, I'll hand him that.

 

"And well he should be. I still don't understand his motivation though. There is no reason whatsoever to believe that these alien presences are anything other than hostile. Why work with them? Why protect this process?"

 

Riker shrugged and turned his gaze from Picard to Deanna. "Have

you spent enough time with him to pick anything up, Deanna?"

 

She shook her head. "I had only a few moments with him when he arrived on the _Enterprise_ after breakfast. He seems to be of two minds about something. There's an oddness about his thoughts: they are very direct, but..." she hesitated a moment, a small frown creasing her brow, "...he may be simply one of those people I find difficult to read."

 

Gesturing at Picard, she tried to explain more fully. "Not like

the admiral, who has learned to purposefully shield his emotions, or like the Ferengi, who are almost impossible to read anything from...Hendrickson is...different, somehow."

 

Looking around at the others, she said, "Perhaps if I have the opportunity to speak with him further...."

 

A thought brushed across her mind, but was as quickly gone. Trying to recapture it and failing, she shrugged, and said. "That's the best I can do for now."

 

Picard nodded. "More wait-and-see. We're getting used to it. Blake has been delayed. His ship docks at 1600."

 

Beverly offered her new information. Hendrickson has ordered all staff out of quarantine for the afternoon - gave everyone the time off, told me to make myself scarce. Time off as a small compensation for having to be here under such circumstances, he had said.

 

"He wants the place unobserved?"

 

Beverly nodded. "I'd say so - the ensign on duty is one of his people."

 

"Perhaps someone should just drop by."

 

"Perhaps."

 

"He's arranged to meet with me tomorrow, with apologies that he's too busy until then. Once Blake arrives, and I've notified him of the situation, I think we'll have to make a decision as to when we release the patients from stasis.

 

Riker frowned. "We have nothing against Hendrickson yet, except for secrecy. Shouldn't we wait until he's made a move one way or the other?

 

"We'll wait for a move, Will, but I don't want it to be too big a move."

 

Beverly looked at Jean Luc, wondering how much what he said stemmed from his concern for the people in quarantine and how much was drawn from his concern for Therese's Henri.

 

"So our plan is?"

 

"Wait. Speak to Blake. Watch Hendrickson - especially in quarantine. Be prepared to bring them out of stasis quickly, be prepared to deal with the alien life forms - and their offspring." He indicated the two doctors present with a nod of his head. "I read the report you made on suggested means of containment. Both seem adequate; I'll allow you your discretion on the choice of method."

 

He rose, signaling everyone's dismissal. "Sorry that there is not more. Will, I appreciate the _Enterprise_'s help in providing facilities and equipment for Doctor Bashir and Doctor Crusher. We'd have no means of manufacturing the containment chambers without your help."

 

"I wish there were more we could do, sir. Hendrickson is scheduled to board the _Enterprise_ again this afternoon, for a couple hours of inspection. He seems determined to drag the procedure out."

 

"You're still scheduled for the Beta Quadrant?"

 

Riker nodded.

 

Picard's brow creased. He did not like the inference of that. What role did the _Enterprise_ play, besides being an excuse for Hendrickson to be here?

 

"Will, just in case, schedule extra security in the transporter room, and have special attention paid to anything Hendrickson might wish to have transferred on board."

 

Riker nodded. "Should we be looking for anything in particular?"

 

"Yes, life forms similar to those in quarantine."

 

Understanding the ramifications of what Picard said, he nodded, his face serious. Motioning to Deanna with his hand, he also rose. "We'll meet again when?"

 

"I'll have to contact you on that."

 

"Are you available for dinner?"

 

Picard smiled at the thought that he at least had a legitimate excuse to avoid an evening of avoiding personal topics, and said, "Not this evening. With Blake arriving, I'm hoping to spend time debriefing him."

 

"What about you, Beverly?"

 

"I'm hoping to work some more on the containment chambers. I'm considering trying to put them back into stasis once they are safely ensconced. My problem is that I'm not sure what their needs are immediately after 'birth'."

 

Riker shrugged, admitting defeat. "Perhaps when this is over, then."

 

Turning, he nodded toward Bashir, a smile emerging from within his beard. "Doctor. I'll see you on board later. You will be receiving another invitation from our Doctor Selar, asking you to dine on board this evening. It will give you another opportunity, should you need it, to use our facilities."

 

Bashir smiled and leaned back in his chair. "It would appear Doctor Selar and I are on our way to building a beautiful relationship, Captain. There's nothing I'd enjoy more! Thank you sir."

 

He looked over at Doctor Crusher. "If you like, you can leave the actual physical details of the containment chambers to me - I ought to be able to finish the design this evening and have them begin replication."

 

Beverly smiled. "Perfect."

 

 

 

 

When their guests had left, Beverly turned to Jean Luc and said, "Well, with the afternoon free, I think I'll change. If I'm going to have to work here, at least I can be comfortable. I'll be right back."

 

She had barely had time to pull her tunic top up over her head when the door to the bedroom swished open. Entering, Picard walked over to the bed and stretched out on it.

 

"Tired?"

 

"Not particularly."

 

"So you are lying down because?"

 

"It's a comfortable position for watching you."

 

"Watching me?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Because?"

 

"I find what you wear under your clothing absolutely fascinating."

 

She stopped, looking at him nonplused, a curve on her lips. "Really!?"

 

"Really."

 

He put his hands behind his head and settled comfortably. Allowing his eyes to travel across her body, he paused at her breasts then raised his eyes to meet hers. "I'm amazed at the styles and colours and materials used."

 

"Amazed? As in: 'You're surprised'? Jean Luc, please! I'm quite aware you've seen more than your share of women's undergarments..."

 

He turned over on his side, supporting his head on his hand. "Perhaps. But for some reason..."

 

She laughed, not bothering to wait for whatever it was he was going to say next. Walking over to the bed, she tossed him over onto his back and straddled him.

 

Working at the waist of his pants, she said, "Perhaps it would be just as interesting to find out why you always wear..."

 

END

Complications 30/42

TITLE: Complications 31/42

AUTHOR: Mariel

SERIES: TNG

PART: 31/42

RATING:

CODES: f/P P/C

 

 

"I am experiencing a strange sense of deja vu, Jean Luc," she said, looking at the ceiling contentedly. "We've really got to stop this..."

 

Jean Luc smiled, not bothering to open his eyes. "You think so?"

 

She turned over onto her side and lifted her head to look at him. "Definitely. How long do you suppose it's going to take for this to wear off?"

 

Left eyebrow slowly rising, he opened his eyes. "You're expecting it to?"

 

"Jean Luc! I should hope so. This is ridiculous. All you have to do is walk in the room, and I immediately start wanting to take off my clothes...and your clothes...and...."

 

"And you see that as a problem?"

 

She swatted him and flopped onto her back again. "There's no talking sense to you when you're in this mood."

 

Rising onto his elbow, he leaned over her slightly, his body resting against hers. "Beverly, this is a mood I expect to be in for a good, long time. I don't think I'll ever quite get over the wonder that we're finally together, that you love me, that we have this between us now." Reaching over, he caressed her cheek with his fingers. "I'm sorry, I just can't see there ever being enough of this; not for a long time, anyways."

 

She lifted an arm and absentmindedly ran the back of her fingers over his chest. "It is amazingly good, isn't it?"

 

He caught her hand and gently kissed her fingers. "Yes, it is. It is also very distracting. Where ARE we supposed to be right now?"

 

"Probably not here."

 

He sighed, and settled back onto the bed comfortably. "I'm not used to having so much trouble getting out of bed."

 

"Age. It'll do that to you." she responded, her voice serious.

 

She barely had time to squeal before she hit the floor.

 

By the time she had untangled herself from the covers she had taken with her as she fell, Jean Luc stood over her, a satisfied look on his face.

 

"Not funny, Jean Luc."

 

"Hmmm, perhaps you're right," he answered, his eyes lit with amusement. "It looks damned uncomfortable down there."

 

Putting her hand up towards him, Beverly tried to glare at him and said, "I'm discovering a whole new side of you, Jean Luc. I'm reserving my opinion on it, however, for later. Now, help me up."

 

With one movement, he gave her his hand and pulled her up and into his arms. Kissing her softly on the mouth, he said, "Sorry. When you reach my *age*, you sometimes have uncontrollable impulses. Consider yourself warned."

 

She smiled against his lips, whatever anger she might have felt forgotten. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she leaned into his warmth, and murmured, "Bring on those impulses."

 

"Can't." Tempted, he kissed her mouth, then buried his lips in her neck, inhaling her scent. "I've got to go."

 

She sighed, "Me too, I suppose." Tightening her grip on him a moment, she said "But this was nice."

 

Reluctantly, they loosened their hold on one another and turned to find their clothing.

 

 

 

 

He'd just pulled his tunic over his head when his comm badge sounded.

 

"Picard here"

 

"Admiral, I have just spoken with Admiral Blake, and he would like me to patch him through to you. Where should I route the transmission?"

 

Ignoring Beverly's soft snort of amusement, Jean Luc replied in a tight voice, "Dr. Crusher's quarters, please."

 

The silence on the other end was deafening. Then a stiff voice clipped out, "Prepare to receive transmission. Sisko out."

 

Beverly put a hand up to cover her laughter. "Gods, the man's sense of timing is impeccable!"

 

Picard was not smiling. "I'm glad you find it amusing."

 

"Well, it's funnier than being pushed off the bed!"

 

"I didn't think you'd let..." He was interrupted by the sound of Beverly's comm unit sounding.

 

One backward glance at Beverly, who was still chuckling, and he left to take the communication in the living area.

 

 

 

 

"Jean Luc, I just spoke with Captain Sisko; thought I ought to apologize to him about the surplus of brass accumulating on his station!" Blake's smiling visage filed the screen.

 

"I think he's beginning to wonder what's going on." Picard replied, a slight smile on his face.

 

"He'll know all, in good time. Actually, I'm thinking we should perhaps have a dinner with everyone as a sort of 'thank you for the hospitality' and 'sorry for the inconvenience'."

 

Picard frowned. It wasn't like admiralty to worry about such things. "It might not be a bad idea, sir."

 

"Tomorrow evening, then? I'll see what can be arranged. Perhaps some of the _Enterprise_ people would like to join us as well."

 

"Could be quite a party," Picard replied, puzzled over Blake's bonhommie, and wondering why he had not gotten down to the business of his visit.

 

"Glad you approve! I'll see what can be arranged!"

 

Wondering when Blake would get to the purpose of his communication, Picard prodded, "I would like to meet with you at some point."

 

Blake nodded. "Of course, Jean Luc, but not today, unfortunately. My getting in late has my schedule all messed up. I've a meeting with Hendrickson first, which, if I know him, will take most of the rest of today!" Shaking his head, he commented wryly, "The man can think of more ways of saying nothing than anyone I know."

 

Picard paused, wondering whether to say anything immediately, then decided against it. Feeling uneasy, he nodded and said, "Tomorrow, 1000, then?"

 

Blake smiled. "Sounds fine. I am very interested in hearing your report."

 

Picard watched as Blake's image flickered out, then remained staring at the blank screen thoughtfully. Not so interested he was in a hurry to hear it, though.

 

Beverly entered the room and looked at him questioningly. "When are you meeting with him?"

 

"Not until tomorrow, apparently."

 

"What?"

 

Picard nodded. "Surprised me too. He was in a big hurry to get here and find out what's going on, now he's fine with waiting to find out what I know, and is talking to Hendrickson first. Something isn't right."

 

"So what did he want?"

 

"I think to let me know he was thinking about having a party..." He frowned as a little shadow of memory flitted through his mind, too elusive to yet catch. Sighing, he let it go. All the pieces would fit together eventually.

 

Walking over to the viewport, he watched with detachment as a small freighter slowly pulled away from it's dock moorings. "I think I'm going to see Sisko. It's time he knew."

 

Beverly smiled. "Wish I could be there."

 

Picard grunted. "You would."

 

Walking over to join him by the window, she asked, "How are you going to bring the subject up?"

 

"That won't be the problem. Keeping him from jumping the gun is going to be the problem. The man reminds me a little of Will - he's action orientated."

 

"I believe Captain Sisko thinks the same of you -in certain areas, anyways."

 

"Beverly..." he said in a warning tone.

 

She held up a hand, smiling. "I know, I'm sorry. Couldn't resist."

 

Keeping to his chosen topic, Jean Luc continued, "I'll ask him to heighten security in the docking areas, and to have the transporters calibrated to detect and tag the signature you recorded of the aliens. I'm developing a theory."

 

Seeing the question in her eye, he added quickly, "Don't ask. I've got to work it out in my mind first."

 

Beverly tensed, and opened her mouth to object. The determined look in his eye, however, stopped her, and she sighed and forced herself to relax. Placing a gentle hand on his arm, she urged, "Go talk to Sisko. He's got to know, I agree. Where he'll fit in when it comes to dealing with the problem directly, I don't know - but he's got to be informed, if only because if something goes wrong and we...."

 

He saw the look pass over her features, saw the small shudder as she considered what it would be like to have the alien implanted in herself, saw the glance at him as she worried about him.

"Don't even think about it, Beverly, it won't happen. We know they're there. There'll be no element of surprise now."

 

She did not look entirely convinced. "Perhaps, but I'm beginning to feel that the more people who know about them, the better."

 

Picard nodded. More people did need to know, and he was beginning to formulate a plan.

 

 

  * * *

 

 

Hendrickson looked down at Blake, his arm extended, offering the other man the drink he had replicated for him.

 

"You should have seen Picard first, Blake." The use of the human form's name came naturally to him now, and he rarely even thought of the Srn'n by his true name.

 

Reaching up for the glass, the other man nodded. "Perhaps, but I'm eager to know how you found things. Is everything all right? Are things proceeding as planned?"

 

Hendrickson nodded. He understood the other's impatience to know, and decided to allow him this small error in judgement. It would do no harm, not with matters this far along.

 

Seating himself, he smiled as the other sipped his drink, found the increased saline content to his liking, and nodded his appreciation.

 

"You've re-calibrated the replicator."

 

Hendrickson nodded. "I have no visitors here, and a..." he paused and a smile flickered across his face, "... a 'man' must be allowed his small pleasures..."

 

"I couldn't on the _Tecumseh_. Too many people in and out." He grimaced. "Had to make do with saline tablets."

 

Hendrickson nodded. "You were wise."

 

"So, is everything on schedule?"

 

"As well as can be expected. I ought to have sent more quarantine staff, though if I had, it would probably have aroused suspicion. There were too many gaps in coverage, Crusher and Bashir were with them alone too often."

 

"They discovered nothing?'

 

"No, but it was still a mistake."

 

"We'll remember it for next time."

 

Hendrickson smiled at both his enthusiasm and his confidence. "Yes. The next time. Next time, though, it'll be much easier, and after that, there'll be no need for subterfuge at all."

 

A bulging motion in Blake's neck indicated the pleased movements of the other Srn'n. "We're so close..."

 

 

  * * *

 

 

Sisko looked up in surprise and rose instinctively when Admiral Jean Luc Picard strode into his office. Without waiting for a greeting, the admiral said, "Captain, I am sorry to disturb you."

 

"Not at all, Admiral." Holding himself stiffly erect, Sisko's voice held no more than the required courtesy.

 

"I would like to discuss something with you, if you don't mind."

The hazel eyes that held Sisko's steadily gave nothing away.

 

Curious, and certain this had to do with all the things that supposedly *weren't* happening on his station, Sisko relaxed slightly and motioned towards the chair opposite his desk. "Please, have a seat."

 

Picard hesitated, then said, "If you don't mind, I have to be somewhere in a short time. Would you consider walking with me? We can talk on the way there."

 

Frowning, and making an effort not to take the suggestion as an affront, Sisko nodded and gestured that Picard should precede him out the door. "Of course, Admiral."

 

Picard turned on his heel and walked out of the office as soon as the doors allowed him exit. Sisko followed wordlessly.

 

Jean Luc did not speak until they were in the main corridor of the station. Quickly and succinctly, he outlined the situation in quarantine, his suspicions concerning Admiral Hendrickson, and his growing concern about Blake. He covered the plan he had been formulating since his talk with Beverly, assured himself that Sisko understood it, then paused before continuing.

 

Noticing the unexpected halt, Sisko watched the older man closely, noting the uncustomary hesitation in his manner, and the lines of worry etched around his mouth. He waited silently, keeping pace as they strode through the corridors, until he heard Picard exhale audibly and, with apparent reluctance, continue.

 

"Of a more personal concern is one of the people presently in quarantine, a research scientist assigned to the _Questor_, by the name of Henri Winthrop." He raised hazel eyes to meet Sisko's puzzled dark ones. "It is imperative that everything be done to see that he survives. Doctor Crusher is of course aware of my wishes, and will make Doctor Bashir aware as well. There may be circumstances, however, where it might seem better to shoot and ask questions later. I would ask that more care be taken."

 

"And why is he of particular importance?"

 

There was a brief pause before Picard responded, his eyes straight ahead. "As I said, this is a personal concern." Sisko could have sworn he saw a flash of humour in Picard's eyes when he continued, "He's Therese Winthrop's husband."

 

Sisko had many shocks in his life, had turned many corners and come upon things strange and unexpected...but this...this was something else entirely. There was no point of reference here, nothing to help him make sense of the situation...His mind grasped at potential explanations, then gave up.

 

"There are obviously things I'm not aware of here."

 

Picard nodded. "Perhaps," he said dryly. "This isn't the time to discuss the matter, however. What I want is your assurance that, should events in sick bay dictate decisions that involve Henri Winthrop, you will endeavor to do everything possible to see that he survives. I also ask that Therese be given every possible access to him."

 

Slowly, Sisko nodded. "If it does not endanger this station or others, then yes."

 

Picard held his gaze firmly, then nodded.

 

"I would like permission to put the quarantine under surveillance, the two admirals as well, and...."

 

Picard nodded, pleased that what Sisko was suggesting would not endanger the secrecy still necessary. "We can discuss those measures after I finish my business here. I will meet you in your office in, say, one half hour? Just be sure that when you are planning your preparations that nothing - and I do mean nothing - is done that appears out of the ordinary. I have made use of the _Enterprise_'s facilities in an attempt to avoid detection as to the containment chambers,...."

 

They continued to talk, both gaining measure of the man they spoke with. Sisko was surprised by the daring of Picard's plan, and troubled by its potential danger. Picard was similarly surprised, and reassured, by Sisko's immediate grasp of the situation, and his readiness to listen and understand before demanding that action be taken.

 

Picard stopped where the corridor branched off in two directions and looked at Sisko thoughtfully. "Thank you for your cooperation, Captain. I realize this situation hasn't been easy for you, and I am sorry it wasn't possible to..."

 

Sisko interrupted with a raised hand. "I understand sir. Thank you for telling me now. I only hope your plan works."

 

Picard smiled. "It's going to have to, isn't it?" His tone was wry when he shrugged and added, "And if it doesn't..."

 

Sisko nodded, hoping silently it would not come to that.

 

 

  * * *

 

 

Julian Bashir had been surprised at Hendrickson's order to meet him in quarantine. And wary. He did not like the idea of being alone with him until he knew whether or not he could be trusted. All things considered, he believed, it was likely the man couldn't be.

 

Leaving a message on Doctor Crusher's comm as to where he would be as a precaution, he left his quarters and did as he had been ordered.

 

Being wary did him no good. Striding into quarantine, he had nodded to Hendrickson, who stood beside one of the patients on the far end of the room. "Admiral," had barely escaped his lips when he felt strong arms wrap themselves around him.

 

Fighting instinctively, he increased his efforts when he saw that Hendrickson was watching his struggle with detachment...

 

...And froze when he felt a hypo pressed against his neck.

 

"Don't worry, Doctor," Hendrickson said from across the room. "That is simply something to make it impossible for you to cry out. Otherwise, you will find all your faculties are functioning normally. We just don't want you drawing attention. Or," he said, gesturing to the occupants of the beds that lined the walls, "disturbing the patients, of course."

 

The man who held him slowly relaxed his grip. Turning mutely, Bashir immediately took advantage and swung his arm around sharply...

 

...Only to find his maneuver neatly out-maneuvered. A twist on his arm, a push to the left, and he was once again neatly held captive.

 

"There's no point in resisting, Doctor. Relax. It will be over before you know it. All we want to do is give you a little something...Right, Sally?"

 

Bashir watched in amazement as the patient Hendrickson was standing over slowly opened her eyes and smiled.

 

And watched in horror as she opened her mouth and a palm sized, hard-shell bodied creature emerged.

 

He looked at Hendrickson, his mind refusing to understand the implications.

 

"This is for you. Her children are born and ready to be sent out. She is ready for her new host," the admiral explained patiently. "This is your chance at making a difference, your opportunity to play a role in Placing the Seed."

 

Bashir began to struggle again in earnest, but the arms that held him were firm. Fighting every inch of the way, he was slowly led to an empty bed. With Hendrickson taking his feet, he was lifted up off the floor and onto it, then quickly strapped down.

 

Unable to speak, he looked frantically around him. And stopped short when he saw who had held him.

 

Jean Luc Picard smiled down at him.

 

Bashir's heart froze. Picard...gods, they had Picard...they must know everything... No one would ever suspect...His mind worked frantically. The patients were already being taken out of stasis, and some of the creatures had already given birth...They would have taken measures against being stopped....

 

His own immediate danger, however, soon took priority as he saw Hendrickson move toward him, carefully carrying the creature that had crawled out of the woman's mouth.

 

"This won't hurt, and, as far as I know, you aren't going to remember anything anyway. You're conscious now because we need that consciousness to find your neural pathways." His voice took on a strange, lilting intonation as he continued, "You are ours, a tool of the Decree. To you be given strength, and blessing."

 

Placing the creature of Bashir's chest, he laid a gentle hand on it. "Go. Find your place."

 

Julian lay still as the creature crawled across his collar bone, up his neck towards his ear, then along his chin towards his mouth. When he felt it pause at his lips, he realized with horror where it intended to go. He closed his mouth firmly, teeth clenched tight, and tossed his head back and forth. The creature held tightly, its small claws delicately pinching. It was not dislodged. He felt, more than saw, Picard move quickly to hold his head still.

 

When it was evident help was necessary in order to get Bashir's mouth open, Hendrickson stepped in and, with his bare hands, slowly pried the doctor's mouth open.

 

"Relax, doctor, it won't hurt. We are Srn'n. We come to take our Place of Promise..."

 

"Srn'n!"

 

Bashir's mind screamed. The feel of the creatures small claws on his tongue was Bashir's last conscious, human sensation.

 

End

Complications 31/42

TITLE: Complications 32/42

AUTHOR: Mariel

SERIES: TNG

PART: 32/42

RATING:

CODES: f/P P/C

 

 

Beverly had waited patiently -for the first hour. Jean Luc had said he would return after his meetings, expecting to be no more than two hours - two and a half at the most.

 

That would mean he was at least an hour late now. What was keeping him? Impatiently, she rose to pace, then stopped herself. So he was late; he'd been late before, he'd be late again. There was little sense in sitting around worrying. On impulse, she walked over to the comm unit and coded in Deanna Troi's number. A moment later, Deanna's face appeared on the screen.

 

"Well, this is a surprise! I didn't think you two were ready to come up for air yet!" Deanna teased.

 

"Shut up, Deanna, he's not even here."

 

Her friend grinned. "I gathered that! How else would you have time to call me?"

 

"You know, De, if Jean Luc could hear you, he'd be quite shocked."

 

"And think me almost as bad as you?"

 

Giving up, Beverly shook her head. "I refuse to dignify that with an answer, Deanna." Finally getting to the reason for her call, she asked, "Want to come over for something chocolate?" knowing the bribe wasn't necessary, but enjoying the opportunity to add to the running joke about Deanna's not-so-secret passion.

 

"You know it, but it'll have to be a bit later, if that's all right. I promised to finish up a few crew evaluations -Will needs them before we leave- after that, though, I'm free as the wind."

 

"Great. If Jean Luc is back by then, he'll just have to make himself scarce, or excuse us while we head for the Promenade."

 

"Sounds good to me! I'm going straight to work now." She smiled directly into the view screen at her friend. "I'm SO glad you called! I miss our talks. We've got to take advantage while we can - even if it does take you away from recreational activities with the admiral!"

 

She signed off, laughing, before Beverly could offer a tart response.

 

Shaking her head, Beverly flicked off the comm unit. It was always fun talking with Deanna. Even with all that she and Worf and Will had gone through, the younger woman's sense of humour had remained intact, her love of life and people as much a part of her as ever. Beverly sighed happily. Life was very, very good.

 

 

  * * *

 

 

Blake walked into quarantine, glanced around at the people assembled there and stopped short, his attention focused on Jean Luc Picard.

 

Before he could say anything, Henrickson assured him, "It's all right. He is ours."

 

"This isn't how we scheduled things!" Blake exclaimed, frowning.

 

Unconcerned, Hendrickson shrugged. "Picard arrived just as C'rni was delivering her young. I could hardly stop the procedure, so I managed to hold him down while Cr'isn implanted himself. Cr'isn was ready. I'd taken him out of stasis in preparation for tomorrow evening, in order to update him while I had plenty of time. It was the only way."

 

Taking Picard early, and C'rni delivering early had been inconveniences, Hendrickson thought, but nothing more. He had managed to put C'rni's two hundred and three offspring in the holding chambers Blake had beamed over from the _Tecumseh_ immediately upon his arrival at DS9 with little trouble, despite Picard's unplanned arrival.

 

Cr'isn, unfortunately, hadn't yet delivered his young, but that could be taken care of later. For now, he and his unborn Srn'n were safely installed in Picard. When delivery time rolled round, Cr'isn could make a hasty trip to quarantine, and all would be well, now that 'Bashir' was implanted and able to deliver the others as they became ready.

 

Hendrickson was drawn away from his thoughts when he saw Picard step toward him. The admiral's accented voice enunciated his words precisely as the Srn'n inside him reported, "Picard has been aware of our presence here for some time, but I can find nothing to indicate he knows our specific plans. His appearing here at this particular time seems to have been an accident.."

 

Blake frowned and looked at Hendrickson. "It's impossible to show up here 'by accident'. He must have had a reason for coming here."

 

"Perhaps he was looking for Crusher." Hendrickson commented. "You're worrying too much, Blake. That's my department, and somehow I think our worries are almost over."

 

Blake shook his head, but remained silent. A'pa Prm had been leader since their arrival five years ago. He had not misstepped before. Now, at this most critical point, was not the time to begin questioning him.

 

Looking at Picard, he asked, "Have you done a thorough integration?"

 

The Srn'n nodded Picard's head, getting used to the different feel of this new human, and thinking he was going to enjoy this body. More compact than the body he had been inhabiting, it felt controlled, confident, its musculature pleasing to move. Running a hand over the smooth pate of this one, he said, "Not the older memories, but for now there's no need. There is a small area of recent memories that are inaccessible; perhaps due to a physical trauma that damaged the cortexial transduction synapses."

 

Blake nodded, more reassured. The rumors must have been true, then. "I'm told he received a blow to the forehead a day or so ago. That might have done it."

 

Looking at Hendrickson, he cautioned, "Please remind everyone about the Vulcans, however. You know the problem we have with their mind shielding."

 

As soon as the words were out of his mouth he glanced sharply at Picard. "He shows no sign of purposefully blocking you?"

 

Picard shook his head. "No. In any event, humans do not have Vulcan mind control abilities. I see no cause for concern. It is only a small area."

 

Blake relaxed. Looking over at one of the biobeds, he commented, "Perhaps it's time to speak to "Bashir", and see what he has to say. If there is something we are unable to get from Picard that we should know, perhaps Bashir can tell us."

 

Hendrickson nodded, and they moved towards the table where Julian lay, still strapped down.

 

After they had loosened his bonds, Bashir sat up, his movements a little clumsy. Putting a hand to the back of his neck to touch himself reassuringly, he smiled. "It's nice to be up and about again." He held his arms out in front of himself, and flexed his fingers. "It doesn't feel as though I've been asleep for more than two months. That stasis is amazing."

 

Looking down at the well muscled, lean frame he now occupied, he commented, "So this is what it feels like to be the male of their species. Interesting." He moved his shoulders in large circles, then did the same with his head. "After a total of six months in the female's body, this has a very different feel." Directing his attention away from himself, he looked at Hendrickson and smiled. "This body will do fine, A'pa Prm."

 

Hendrickson nodded impatiently, then reached over and daubed at the blood on the side of Bashir's mouth. "Glad it meets with your approval - and the name's Hendrickson. Don't forget it. One stupid mistake like that and we could be back at square one again."

 

Bashir nodded, suitably chastised. Looking over at Picard, he asked, "So what are we going to do with him? Won't he be expected somewhere?"

 

Blake nodded. "We're going to have to let him continue Picard's schedule until tomorrow night. It may help us in the long run; he can lull them into a greater sense of security."

 

"What about the woman?" Bashir asked, having accessed Bashir's recent memories all ready.

 

"Crusher or Winthrop?" Blake responded.

 

Hendrickson grunted. "Good question. I think it's the doctor we'll have to worry about - it's she he is spending most of his time with."

 

"There will be no problem," the Picard Srn'n assured him. "I have access to all his thoughts and memories. Handling the situation should not be difficult, short term."

 

"And short term is all we're going to need. Fine then. Where is Picard due to go next?"

 

"As far as I can determine, Crusher's quarters. He doesn't seem to have anything planned for the rest of the day except dinner with her."

 

Blake frowned and interjected, "Even with Therese Winthrop here?"

 

Picard waved his hands, "It's difficult to explain. Their practices are not so clearly defined as ours, and, as you know, their mating occurs at random." A frown appeared on Picard's face, as the Srn'n continued, "What they call 'emotions' I do not understand well. It is evident, however, that Crusher is now his companion choice, though he still holds the other in high esteem. Winthrop, so far as I can tell from his memories, is first to someone else. Their mating -Picard's and the Winthrop woman's- occurred because their primary mates were not available."

 

Hendrickson heaved a large sigh, finding the topic, as always, distasteful. "Enough. I have lived with them for five years and still do not understand many of their ways. They're a very complicated species, and when it comes to their mating habits..." he shook his head, "...they're not very fruitful, and they don't seem to even mind it. They are inexplicable in many respects. I don't understand how they've survived as a race."

 

Giving in to the human's inherent impulse, the Picard Srn'n tugged down his tunic and said, "I propose I get on with things, then. I will return to Crusher's quarters. We are to have dinner. Crusher is aware Picard is wondering why Blake is not more interested in his findings here on the station." He looked at Blake and said, "She would not be surprised if he were called away to discuss that very matter."

 

Blake glanced at Hendrickson, and, when his superior moved his head in agreement, nodded his own. "That's a wise suggestion. I will contact you, unless you manage to get away yourself."

 

Slipping down off the table, still obviously getting used to the weight and balance of his new body, Bashir finally spoke again. "I'll stay here and deliver the young as they are ready. My regrets will be sent to the _Enterprise_. It will be easy enough to come up with an excuse."

 

Looking around at the people on the tables surrounding him, he asked, "All have been taken from stasis?" It bothered him slightly that the danger of discovery was increased now that their presence could be detected at the back of each of the host's neck.

 

When Hendrickson nodded, Bashir moved over to stand next to one of the bio beds and continued, "I will need the holding containers..." he paused, and with an obvious effort, avoided his previous mistake, saying "...*Admiral Blake* brought with him. I will have each brood ready for placement on the _Enterprise_, the station here, the _Tecumseh_ when it arrives to return you to Earth, as well as the two lots Hendrickson will require for his tour of the outposts."

 

"You're the gestation expert - how long do you think this will all take?"

 

Bashir shrugged. "Everyone should be delivered of their young by tomorrow evening. C'rni delivering early is a bit of a surprise, but I do not expect anything else out of the ordinary."

 

"And the hosts?" Blake asked.

 

Hendrickson answered readily, having previously considered this. "I see no reason why there won't be enough offspring to implant them and keep them - they have talents we could use, and the miracle of their return will expose them to many others...The sedatives you recommended are mimicking their previous comas well. The change in them will not be detected before we decide to allow them consciousness."

 

The Srn'n all nodded, pleased at the thought. Their human bodies mimicked their motions.

 

  * * *

 

 

Picard strode down the corridor towards Beverly's quarters, concentrating on the human's memories. He had many recent ones that involved this woman, and the Srn'n knew it would be important that he get things right in order to avoid suspicion.

 

He wished they had listened to his request to bring another Srn'n with him. So much easier, he thought, to simply take her. But Blake and Hendrickson had out-voted him, agreeing it would be better to stick as closely to their original plan as possible. This, they believed, was no time to get innovative.

 

He inclined his head as two ensigns nodded respectfully as they passed him in the corridor, then held himself even more erect. This human had power - of position and of demeanor. He could feel it in the way the body carried itself, and in the human's even-tempered manner and reasoned thoughts.

 

Soon, however, he would need neither this body nor its aura of authority. He was Srn'n, born of the Many, destined to keep the Word, destined to take what was Promised by the Holy Decree, destined to fulfill the Prophecy.

 

Reaching the door to Picard and Crusher's quarters -his quarters, he reminded himself- he inhaled deeply. It would be difficult, this one-on-one with someone who knew Picard so intimately, but it could be done. All the Implementation information warned against allowing oneself to be put in this kind of situation, but he saw no way out of it. He would succeed. It, too, was his destiny.

 

 

 

Destiny, however, might stand little chance against a woman's intuition. The minute he placed his lips against hers in greeting, Beverly backed her head away and asked, "What?"

 

Jean Luc raised an eyebrow and smiled slightly. "What, what?"

 

She looked at him, puzzled, wondering what was different. Seeing nothing, she sighed. "Nothing, I guess. I'm just being silly."

 

"Then let's have dinner. Would you like to eat in or go out?"

 

"In, I think. We've a long day ahead of us, and I don't feel like sharing you with anyone tonight."

 

"I like the sound of that!" he commented, horrified at the thought.

 

"Don't get too excited," she teased. "You didn't let me finish. I don't want to share you until Deanna arrives later on. Then I would like you to do one of two things: make yourself scarce or excuse us while we make way for the Promenade."

 

Trying to hide the relief he felt, he moved across the room. "I'll probably make myself scarce, if that's all right. I'm glad you'll have the chance for a visit."

 

"Will you visit Therese?" The question was asked quietly, but the Srn'n knew it was significant somehow.

 

He frantically searched Picard's memories, then shook his head, relieved when he found the answer near the surface of the human's thoughts. "No. Oddly enough, she's discovered two old friends are on the station - scientists waiting for transport to the Churnellian System. She told me they were going to relive old times." He paused, thinking of the appropriate thing to say, then commented, "It'll be good for her - it'll keep her mind off other matters."

 

Beverly nodded, pleased more than she liked to admit that he would not be seeing her.

 

Gesturing towards the replicator, Picard asked, "What should we have?"

 

Beverly frowned, considering the many options, then decided on her menu. Picard doubled the order, and watched as it appeared.

 

Lifting the plates from the dispenser, he turned and said, "Dinner for two, coming up."

 

Seating herself, Beverly smiled up at him as he placed the food in front of her. Smoothing a pale blue napkin onto her lap, she said, "Thank you, Jean Luc."

 

As he sat across from her, he glanced at the table, then rose and returned to the replicator. When he came back, he held an old fashioned salt dispenser.

 

"Well, I haven't seen one of those in a long time!" she commented.

 

Picard shrugged. "Thought I'd like a little more seasoning than usual tonight."

 

Beverly watched in surprise as Jean Luc added salt over everything on his plate, and, smiling uncertainly asked, "Are you sure that's going to be edible?"

 

Picard nodded. "I feel like something salty."

 

Beverly glanced askance at the white film now covering his dinner.

 

"Obviously."

 

 

  * * *

 

Returning to his office, Sisko had felt a wave of unease settle over him. He had known it would be a short time before Picard returned, but since time was of the essence, any amount of waiting difficult.

 

Brows furrowed in thought, he watched the long fingers of his right hand beat a steady tattoo on his desk. Finally coming to a decision, he exhaled audibly and reached over to the comm unit. Only a few seconds after he had punched in a code, Odo's plasticine-smooth face appeared on the view screen.

 

"Yes, Captain?"

 

"Odo, I need to speak with you."

 

Odo's face made only the slightest of movement to indicate a frown. "Of course sir. When would be convenient? I have a lot of catching up to do here..."

 

Sisko interrupted. "I'll drop by your office in a few minutes. Sisko out."

 

Rising, he walked swiftly to the door. It felt good to be doing something.

 

 

  * * *

 

 

"That's a crazy idea."

 

Sisko shrugged, beginning to agree. "It sounded plausible enough when he suggested it. I don't, however, want to wait until he sees me again before taking security measures."

 

Odo nodded, understanding completely. "I have someone in the corridor outside the quarantine now. I'll have him request back up in order to track anyone who enters or exits the area."

 

Sisko raised an eyebrow.

 

"This is my station, captain. You don't think I would allow this situation to go completely ignored? I may not be cognizant of what is happening on the other side of those doors, but I'm not going to pretend I don't know it's something important. It seemed to me to be worthy of some amount of monitoring."

 

The tall black man grinned in appreciation. "You're better than a fairy godmother, Odo."

 

Odo grunted, refusing to show the pleasure he felt at having once again been proven right in his obsession with station security.

 

"I was hired to look after this place. I look after the place."

 

"That you do, Odo." Sisko commented, pleased.

 

The two men launched into a discussion of what to do next.

 

 

  * * *

 

 

Captain Sisko had been back in his office for more than thirty minutes when his comm badge signaled.

 

"Odo to Sisko"

 

He tapped his comm badge sharply. "Yes?"

 

"The admiral has left quarantine. He is not, however, heading in the direction of your office. He is traveling in the direction of Doctor Crusher's quarters."

 

Benjamin frowned. Picard should have been heading straight here. The man had been pretty emphatic about their arranging security measures as soon as possible. Why would he want to delay matters?

 

"I want him observed continuously, Odo." As an afterthought he said, "And have the man surveilling him observe for irregularities in manner, actions, that sort of thing. I've got a bad feeling about this."

 

Unseen, Odo nodded. The man should never have exposed himself alone, and to do so without security measures...He shook his head.

Picard was a fool.

 

 

  * * *

 

 

Benjamin waited another thirty minutes, mulling over the significance of the surveillance report on Picard. There was little enough, but added to the admiral's failure to even contact his office, Sisko felt it worthy of attention.

 

Picard had paused for some time outside the door before entering the quarters. Why? Why stand there, deep in thought?

 

There was, of course, always the option that he had something to discuss with the doctor of a nature that he required time to take a deep breath, so to speak, but he somehow doubted that. No, there was something wrong about that hesitation before entering he did not like.

 

Impulsively, he tapped his comm badge, deciding that, considering his past track record, visual communication might not be desirable.

 

Beverly and Jean Luc had almost finished dining when Picard's comm badge sounded. He tapped it in response. "Picard, here."

 

A moment's silence, then they heard Sisko's disembodied voice say, "Admiral, I would like to confirm the time for our next meeting."

 

Beverly watched as Picard's brow creased in puzzlement, then smoothed as he replied calmly, "I'm sorry, captain, it slipped my mind. When had we planned to meet?"

 

"Would this evening be convenient, sir?"

 

The admiral shook his head. "I'm sorry, that's not possible. What about early tomorrow morning?"

 

"That's fine, sir. 0800?"

 

"I'll see you then, captain."

 

Communique over, Picard smiled at Beverly, wondering what it was he was meeting Sisko about and hoping Picard's memories would hold the answers he needed when they met. "An admiral's work is never done," he commented and resumed eating.

 

Beverly smiled, wondering what it was that made him seem so distant this evening.

 

  * * *

 

Sisko closed the communications link and immediately contacted the _Enterprise_. He was going to need information, and he suspected, help.

 

And quickly.

 

End

Complications 32/42

TITLE: Complications 33/42

AUTHOR: Mariel

SERIES: TNG

RATING:

CODES: P/f P/C

You're in the home stretch