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Beverly Crusher was numb. She was numb from the minute the Yeomen came to her house to tell her about her husband’s death, and she had been going through the motions of daily life every since. Somehow, she scheduled and organised a funeral. When her husband’s and her best friend, Jean-Luc Picard arrived, she remembered asking him if she could see Jack’s body. He had protested, but then relented after Beverly said she didn’t really believe he was dead.
He was. There was no denying the pale skin and the blue tinge to his lips and extremities. Not to mention half his face was gone, but Beverly tried not to think about that. She nodded at Jean-Luc to cover her husband back up with a sheet, and when he placed his arm on her back, she broke down in heart wrenching sobs as waves of relief and guilt washed over her. He held her against him as they both fell to the floor in the morgue and she sobbed into his chest.
“I didn’t....I didn’t think it was real.”
“I know, Beverly, I know, I didn’t, either.” He stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head while he rocked her. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I can’t even put into words how sorry I am.”
“It wasn’t your fault.” The words were soft, but firm.
“I’m sorry?”
“Jack’s death. He knew what he was doing. He knew it was risky. He chose not to look for other options. He knew it might blow up. He chose to put his life at risk, heedless of his responsibilities to you, to the ship, to me....or to Wesley. And now he’s...gone.”
Jean-Luc slowly nodded and shifted their position on the floor, the cold floor tiling biting into his legs. Beverly shivered in the cool air, and he tightened his arms around her to share some of his body warmth with her. “Do you want to go home?”
“Wesley is there. That’s the only reason I want to go home. For Wes. He needs us.”
Beverly felt numb throughout the funeral. All the people stopping by to shake her hand, to pat Wesley on the head, or to offer their condolences were just a blur to her. She stood there in the receiving line wearing a severe black suit her friend Cherri had picked out for her, topped with a wide-brimmed black hat. She and Wesley stood next to Jean-Luc, clad in his dress uniform with a black armband. Beverly let Jean-Luc do most of the speaking. He didn’t seem to mind. She watched the silent conversation that took place between Jean-Luc and their other best friend, Walker Keel, before Walker gave her a kiss on her cheek and gave Wesley a squeeze on his sholder.
Somewhere, Cherri had found a small black suit for Wesley. The suit made him look like a doll, and not the vibrant, active, child he usually was. Where he would usually be pestering his Uncles Jean-Luc and Walker with questions about their ships, he stood silent at her side, allowing people to pat him on the head, as if he wasn’t a real person at all.
Back at her small house, Wesley had asked if he could play before bedtime and Beverly told him to change out of his suit and to hang it up carefully before playing. She kicked off the patent black heels and tossed her hat on the coffee table, shaking her hair out, before sinking onto the sofa with her legs curled up under her. Jean-Luc offered to see if Wesley needed any help, and she nodded, but continued to stare silently straight ahead.
At one point, Jean-Luc handed her a tumbler of Whisky. She swirled the amber drink around in the glass, taking very small sips. She only knew what time it was by the sunset streaking across the sky through the window, fading the light that filtered in until the sky was dark and the street lit by streetlamps.
“I gave Wesley a bath and put him to bed.”
“Thank you.”
“Do I need to put you to bed, too?” Beverly cracked a smile at his joke, but she nodded, downing the rest of her whisky in one full swig.
Jean-Luc held out his hand to her and she grasped on to it tightly, as if it was her lifeline. He guided her up the stairs to her bedroom and closed the door behind them with a soft click. He gently unbuttoned her jacket, removed it, and hung it up in her closet before he repeated the action with her skirt and blouse. She stood before him clad in a camisole and slip. “Do you want me to run a bath for you?” She nodded and Jean-Luc disappeared into her ensuite. She heard him moving things around and could hear the clink of her razor being placed in the reclimator. She wasn’t depressed or suicidal. Just numb. But it was nice to know he cared that much.
He called to her a few minutes later and she walked into the bathroom. “I hope I didn’t make it too hot for you.” She shrugged. She hadn’t felt cold or hot at all that day, despite the changing weather. She had taken off her slip and was only wearing the thin camisole and a pair of knickers and as she pulled her camisole off Jean-Luc tried to look away, then blushed when her realised he could see her reflection in the mirror. He chose to look at the floor instead while she slipped out of her knickers and got into the tub.
“I hope the temperature is alright for you.” She nodded, though he wasn’t looking at her yet and sunk deeper, the bubbles covering her breasts and dampening the ends of her hair.
“I’ll come back and check on you in a bit?” Jean-Luc moved towards the bathroom door, but Beverly’s hand reached out of the bubbles and she gripped his arm. “Stay.”
“Uhm, Alright.” He moved the towel from the lid of the commode to the vanity and perched on the edge, feeling a little silly, but realising Beverly perhaps didn’t want to be alone. Maybe he should have taken up Walker or Cherrie’s offer of staying over, but he had assured the pair they would be alright. Cherrie had accepted his assurances, but he had held a long, silent conversation with Walker, consisting of head tilts, shoulder shrugs, and eye movement before Walker was satisfied. Jean-Luc silently praised the fact that he and Walker had been friends for so long and that he knew how to read him. His focus returned to Beverly as she spoke.
“No, in the tub.” Jean-Luc raised his eyebrows at his friend. Was she asking him to take off his clothing and get in the tub with her?
“Beverly, I don’t think my uniform could stand it.” Beverly gave him an exasperating look.
“Take it off.”
“I....this is what you want?” She nodded. “I want you to get in the tub with me naked.” It was the first full sentence Jean-Luc remembered her saying all day that had more than four or five words. He nodded and squeezed her hand.
“I’ll be right back.” Jean-Luc exited into her bedroom and nervously took off his uniform and carefully hung it in her closet before returning to the bathroom clad in his shorts. “Lose the shorts.” He raised his eyebrows at his friend, but he turned his back to her and lowered his boxers. When he turned around, he clasped his hands over his crotch as he got into the tub opposite her. His shoulder hit the tap and he let out a howl of pain.
“Come here instead.” He raised his eyebrows at his friend. His friend that he so desperately was in love with and had been for years, and who was naked with him in a bathtub on the night of her husband’s funeral at her request. It was hardly the moment to make a declaration of his love or to make a move on her. He was sure she only wanted him in the tub with her for companionship, nothing more. “I can’t, you’re over there.” Beverly scooted forward and Jean-Luc realised what she wanted him to do and he moved behind her. She pushed herself back against his chest, and he circled her waist loosely with his arms.
“Love me.” It wasn’t a question, it was a phrase. Jean-Luc kissed the top of Beverly’s head as she lounged in his arms. “I do love you, Beverly. You know that.”
“No,” she turned around and straddled his hips, pushing her breasts against his chest, and rocking her groin against his and causing his breath to catch in his throat. “Make love to me.”
“Beverly? I don’t know if this is really appropriate....” She laughed. She threw back her head and laughed.
“There will never be a good time. I was always the girlfriend of your best friend, the wife of your best friend, and now I’ll always be the widow of your best friend.”
“Beverly,” he cupped her face gently, “You’re more than that to me. You’re my best friend. And I...” he trailed off, not sure if he should tell her how he felt, but then he decided he had nothing to lose. He was naked and she was in his arms. While the timing wasn’t ideal, the situation definitely called for him to share his most intimate thoughts with her. The thought that he had kept locked away for the ten years of their friendship. “I love you.”
“I know. I love you too.”
“You do?” Jean-Luc’s heart hammered in his chest as Beverly closed the gap between their faces and kissed him deeply. He kissed her back and when they broke off the kiss, she was smiling the first genuine smile he had seen since he had been back. She tilted her head.
“Can I make a confession?”
“You seem to have my undivided attention right now” Jean-Luc pushed a strand of damp hair behind her ear and he kissed her again.
“I wasn’t in love with Jack anymore. I was relieved he died.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I do. I wanted to leave him a long time ago.” All the air whooshed out of Jean-Luc. If only he had known...
“Why didn’t you?”
“I didn’t want to lose you, too.” Beverly’s hand sunk beneath the water and she gently stroked Jean-Luc’s erect penis. He closed his eyes. “You’ll never lose me.”
###FIN###