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Chapter Text

They had both been summoned to provide a detailed debrief to what was left of Starfleet Command after that fated Frontier Day.

Their involvement was undeniable, but their foremost concern centered around the questions about their son's role and the ensuing repercussions. Would he be seen as a victim or a culprit?

Arriving almost simultaneously, they found themselves in the foyer facing a single bench.

She glanced at him briefly and wrapped her arms around herself. He gestured for her to sit, and after a brief hesitation, she settled on the far right side of the bench. He took a breath before moving toward the opposite end.

“May I?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes.

“Jean-Luc … I would hope that, after everything, we are able to at least sit next to each other.”

“Well, so would I … I just … I wasn’t …” he sighed, unsure of how to proceed.

He sat down, and they both stared straight ahead.

The room was eerily quiet, normally bustling but now nearly silent.

They both dwelled on the same thoughts. They had saved everyone who was left to save, yet they also bore the responsibility for it happening in the first place.

If the Borg Queen hadn't been able to get to their son, none of this would have happened.

She began fidgeting with her hands, a familiar nervous gesture he observed out of the corner of his eye.

He hunched forward slightly, running his hand over his pate. Despite sitting as far apart as they could, she remained frighteningly, intoxicatingly close. Her familiar scent hadn't changed in 25 years, and he resisted the overwhelming urge to twirl his finger through her hair.

He wanted desperately to speak to her, but the right words eluded him. As he cleared his throat, she beat him to it.

“What will happen to him?”

He met her gaze without immediately responding, wearing his diplomatic face ... a face she had seen too often in moments when she felt him distant and unresponsive.

“Jean-Luc?! What will happen to our son?” she demanded harshly.

“Beverly, it won’t do Jack any good if we are angry with each other…” he began.

She scoffed.

“Beverly…” he started, slightly offended by her demeanor.

“But, Jean-Luc, I am angry!” she exclaimed.

“You're angry…” he looked wounded now.

“I’m the one who should be angry. You're the one who lied to me for 25 years. I trusted you more than anyone, Beverly, and you betrayed me in a way I can't even begin to…” He stopped himself.

She shook her head. “I knew you hadn’t forgiven me. What you said ... you didn't mean any of it, did you? That I did everything right?! So who was that for? To make yourself seem magnanimous in front of the others…”

“Beverly, I…” he stammered, struggling to find the right words.

“I mean, I did mean it. I know you did everything right to protect our son. But that doesn’t mean the hurt has gone away. I can rationalize your actions now—I can. But…”

“You can’t forgive them, can you?” She retorted angrily. “That's so typical of you … to sit there as the wounded party. We're faced with the annihilation of almost all of Starfleet because you drove our son directly into the arms of the Borg Queen. You wouldn’t even let me be a part of the conversation with him.”

She moved closer, her fury palpable. “Why did you think you were better suited to share with our son that he had Borg DNA inside of him?”

“Because I passed it down to him…it was my responsibility.”

“So, it’s your ego again. You felt responsible, so you had to make yourself the duty-bound center of attention. What made you think you were more qualified to tell our son something so life-changing? I have known him and cared for him his entire life …you had known him less than a week…”

“And whose fault is that…” he started, realizing how juvenile that sounded.

“My point is … your insensitive handling of that explanation drove him straight into the Borg Cube. And I let it happen…I can’t believe I just let it happen…” her voice quivered.

“Well, it’s not like you were able to stop him…” he said, trying to defend himself in the most senseless of ways.

“I could have…he would never have gone if I had told him…”

“You can’t know that…”

“Yes, I can…he’s my son. I know him.”

They both looked away from each other and stared straight ahead.

He sighed and placed his palm on the bench in her direction, where hers was already resting.

“I don’t know what will happen to him,” he started, “but, Beverly, I swear to you, I’ll do everything I can to protect him.”

“And cut me out of it, no doubt…” she snipped. “Now that he’s your son, I no longer matter…”

“What the hell are you talking about? Of course, you matter. You matter more than…” He choked on his words.

She shook her head.

“Beverly, you matter more to me than…” he took another deep breath, “I may be angry with you. You may detest me as your voice indicates that you do… we may be… challenged in our communication. But, Beverly, you matter to me. I love you, and no matter how much we disagree or hurt each other, I will always, always ... love you,” he said with both the conviction and resolve of a man who had very little to lose at this point ...  and as he moved back to his far end of the bench.

Once again, she put her arms around herself, a tear trickling down her cheek.

“I don’t know where to go from here, Jean-Luc…”

“Neither do I… But, I think maybe ... we should try to find our way together…”

She turned and looked into his eyes.

“I don’t detest you, Jean-Luc…”, her voice now softer.

“I’m glad,” he smiled cautiously.

He once again moved his hand closer to hers, close enough for him to intertwine his little finger with hers.

Chapter Text

0400 hours. She couldn’t sleep. Her mind churned with conversations, concerns, regrets, doubts, and above all, fear for her son's future.

Since his admission to Starfleet Medical for evaluation, she hadn't been allowed to see him. She had pleaded with them to let her accompany him, but the disheveled remnants of Starfleet brass had been adamant in their refusal.

Will had informed her that Jean-Luc had also tried to gain access, but he too had been denied. This confirmed that they were both under scrutiny. Though her name still carried weight in Starfleet, her absence for so long had greatly diminished her ability to call in favors.

She exhaled deeply, got out of bed, and was left standing aimlessly in the middle of the room. Confined to quarters at Starfleet HQ, officially not detained but also not free to leave, she knew tomorrow would bring yet another debriefing.

She wondered if he was in the same situation or if he had managed to evade both detainment and scrutiny. Immediately, she felt ashamed. He wasn't in a good position either. He had commandeered an entire Starship and stolen a shuttle to come for her.

She hadn't thanked him. He had made it difficult. She wanted to thank him for saving them, but she was still angry with him for the sheer amount of masked arrogance she had still sensed in him.  

At the same time, all that seemed almost like a distant memory in the wake of everything that had just unfolded. What they had caused... what their son had been turned into... and their failure to stop it.

But that was it, wasn’t it? They hadn’t caused it... they had simply not been able to stop it... She started musing. She couldn’t blame him for it. Just as Jack couldn’t be blamed. He had no idea. He was simply following... a voice he couldn’t help hearing. And yet, what the hell had Jean-Luc said, or more likely not said, to their son that made him storm off into the arms of... not her.

She pressed the button to open the door, but it remained locked. Frustrated, she touched her comm badge.

"Secure channel to Admiral Picard," she commanded. "Denied," came the response. She half sighed, half sobbed, and slumped back into a chair.

He probably wasn’t even here, she thought. Once again, as so often in her life, she felt utterly alone. Alone with her anger, with the weight of responsibility... and alone with the love she still carried in her heart, but was terrified to embrace even a little.

Her thoughts started wandering … He hadn’t forgiven her. He may have spoken the words. But he would never forgive her. How could he … And can you love someone you can’t forgive. She tossed her head backward over the back of the chair and stared up at the ceiling in the dimly lit room.

Could he love her if he hadn't forgiven her? And should he not also seek forgiveness … She wasn’t sure anymore.  

She turned the idea over and over. Their relationship had always been deep-rooted and also … resilient, until it wasn’t anymore.

At that thought, she suddenly felt a profound longing for reassurance, or was it perhaps just a desperate thought that they would be strong enough to withstand what had already happened at what was to come … if not for themselves, then for their son.

“Stop it, Beverly! Just stop …!” she yelled at herself. What does it matter if he forgives you. You would have done it all over again. You don’t need his forgiveness. She restarted yet another conversation with herself in her mind before going to the replicator for a drink of water.

Quenching her thirst, she heard the console chirp. “Encrypted message. Uncommon Codec.” She swallowed. “Computer, on screen. Encryption key ‘Myriade’ …”

Subject: Communication Regarding Access to Jack Crusher

Beverly,

I am writing to inform you that I have arranged a meeting for you following tomorrow’s deposition – to ensure you access to Jack under the pretense of providing crucial medical insights. I am hopeful that this effort will be successful, and you can persuade them.

For your reference, my override code is Picard-Delta 295750203. It remains operational, for now, and will grant you the ability to open the door.

… Get some sleep.

Jean-Luc

She re-read the communication over and over… as if unable to fully decipher it or determine how she felt about it. What did matter was Jack… And she would need to focus on that part.

She turned off the console and went back to bed without sending a response.

“Open the door …” she thought, before drifting into a restless sleep.  

Chapter Text

At 0805, a preoccupied lieutenant escorted her back down to the foyer, leaving her at the door. Jean-Luc was already seated on the bench at the far left, appearing as though he had been there for a while.

“Good morning…” he greeted cautiously upon seeing her enter. She thought she saw his face light up momentarily, only to be tempered.

Walking in long strides, she made her way to the opposite end of the bench and sat down. “Good morning,” she replied softly, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear and avoiding eye contact.

They both sat in silence, each listening to the other's breathing, contemplating what to say, if anything at all.

“How long have you been sitting here?” she asked abruptly, still looking straight ahead.

“About twenty minutes,” he replied, glancing at her sideways. “They came for me around 0745.”

She turned her face towards him, her ice-blue eyes piercing him. “You’re locked in, too?” she asked, surprised.

He nodded. “I believe we all are… Everything here is in chaos, and they are operating on the lowest common denominator. Everybody is treated the same,” he scoffed slightly. “But they are overlooking… quite a few things… such as…”

“Your override codes…” she smirked.

“Yes… such as my override codes…”

“So few are left… the machinery is… at minimal working capacity, shall we say… And most of the surviving high-ranking officers are hunting changelings in our ranks… The paranoia is…” he stopped and sighed.

“And yet, they intend to spend the week interrogating the two of us…” she retorted.

“Debriefing… I believe they call it…” he started. “I think we need to acknowledge that our involvement in this is… perhaps a little beyond everybody else's…”

She exhaled. “I suppose… ” Another breath. “Jean-Luc… I’ll do my best not to waste the opportunity you have provided for me with regards to Jack…”

He didn’t like how formally she spoke to him about it, forgetting how formal his own communication had been.

“Thank you…” she said, eliciting a brief smile from him.

“I didn’t know if you… received it… or opened it… Beverly, I… I feel I may have given you the impression yesterday that… I hadn’t been truthful with you about how I felt about… not knowing we had a son…”

She looked in the opposite direction of where he was sitting, as if searching for something to distract from the conversation.

“Beverly… I meant what I said. I know you did right by Jack. In my … mind, I have forgiven you for keeping him a secret. But I am struggling … I do feel anger, and I’m still trying to handle that… because I’m not even sure the anger is at you…”

“Who else would it be at…?” she said, still looking away, close to rolling her eyes, in an effort to shield herself from whatever he was going to say next.

“What I mean to say is, that while I may harbor resentment in some form, it doesn’t mean I’m looking to put blame on you. I may just need a little time to fully resolve my feelings… for us… to heal… I’m more angry at the situation than at you, Beverly. And I’m certainly also angry with myself…”

She looked straight ahead again, attempting to conceal the tears welling up in her eyes.

“Beverly…” he said in his softest voice, making her feel as if she might just turn to dust before him. Though she may have responded internally, she didn’t move or speak.

“Beverly…” he tried again, scooting slightly closer to her on the bench, not touching, but she could feel the heat emanating from his thigh next to hers.

She swallowed. She knew she wasn’t fooling him. Twenty-five years past or not, he still knew every physical tell in her body.

“Beverly…” he said a third time, now almost in a whisper as he raised his hand and, as if trying not to frighten an animal, gently started stroking her hair across the back of her head. One stroke. Two strokes.

“Admiral Picard, please come with us…” a Commander called as he appeared in the opposing doorway.

“Excuse me…” he said politely to Beverly and walked into the debriefing room, while giving her a more professional look that spoke to her about … “their mission” … to get to Jack.

As the door swished shut, she let out a stifled sob and allowed her chin to quiver.

She steadied herself by placing her hands on either side of her. She knew she would be called into the other room soon. The bench felt cold under her touch, and she moved over to where he had been sitting... it was still warm.

Chapter Text

0244. He still couldn’t sleep.

He had already counted the lines in the ceiling four times. Just as he had mulled over the latest debriefing.

He had thought about Jack in a jumble in his mind. Flashes over the recent moments and conversations with … his son.

The moment he turned and laid eyes on him on the Eleos. The first thought that had entered his mind in that moment, and how he had immediately shut that thought far away.

He flinched at the arrogance he had shown when Jack waited for him outside of sickbay knowing that he now finally knew that he was his father … and all he got was seeing him walk away.

Faced with the family he had always missed, the woman he had always loved, and a son between them … he had turned his back when confronted with both the practical and emotional truth.

At that thought, he rose and hit his fist against the wall. No wonder Beverly was angry with him. She had so many reasons to be. So many moments of him behaving just like that. Arrogantly, entitled, self-absorbed.

He sighed and ran his hands over his face. But dammit, that was not all he was. He wasn’t only his shortcomings, and he needed Beverly to see that again, as she always had before. But she was just so cold with him...

“I did this to her...” he thought. She had always been the warmest presence in his life … equal parts fire and grace. Now, when she looked at him, her eyes were still as blue as ever, but also so piercingly stern. At least most of the time …

He had seen her struggle to keep herself under control. He had seen her tears brimming and her body shake next to him on that bench.

He slammed his fist into the wall once more … She was still his warm, beautiful Beverly... She was... He could see her. She was there... And he still wanted her … physically, mentally, emotionally... he wanted her … he needed her … he loved her.

He walked over to the replicator. “Tea, Earl Grey, hot…”

“That recipe cannot be accessed at this time…”

“Coffee, black…”

“That recipe cannot be accessed at this time…”

“What the hell… What beverage can you make?” he yelled into the room.

“The replicator has the recipe for water. Hot and cold.”

He sighed. This really had almost been the end … of everything.

“Fine. Water, cold…”

The replicator buzzed, and he quenched his thirst as he wondered what she was doing. Locked away. Alone in a dark room with no flowers.

He hated the image of her alone. It had haunted him since the day Jack died. But the loneliness he felt he had condemned her to then was nothing compared to the loneliness he realized she had lived through, first trying to love him and then running from him.

“Computer, location of Dr. Beverly Crusher,” he said, almost in a state of panic.

“That information is not available at this time…”

He sighed and started pacing around the room. She probably couldn’t sleep either.

He walked to the console and tapped his fingers beside it. “Dear Beverly… No… Just… Beverly. Beverly… I hope you… No. Beverly, how are y—”

Frustrated, he growled and punched the button to dim the display.

Sitting for a moment, he stared at the wall, hoping she had at least been able to see their son today. He would have likely hugged her in the way he wished he dared, though uncertain if she would welcome it.

Yes, Jack would have certainly embraced his mother, sparing her the need to comfort herself. He had witnessed the warmth their son had for her, his protective and caring nature. Yes, he was his mother's son, and all the better for it.

Nodding to himself, he found comfort in the idea that someone could have been there for her today, resisting the urge to dwell on what Jack might be enduring.

He sat down in a chair and bent forward, holding his face in his hand and rubbing his eyes. He eyed his PADD on the table and suddenly grabbed it resolutely and started programming it.

0313, the time said when he was done.

"This could work," he thought to himself as he walked to the console and attached his PADD, and inputted a series of commands.

The programming seemed to have gone through, along with the command. But he had no way of knowing for sure. And yet he remained there... waiting... not sure for what.

____________________________________________

At 0313, she had tossed and turned, her mind filled with the events of the day and her heart warm and fraught from finally seeing Jack.

She rose, not sure why, when a noise from the replicator caught her attention. That damn thing had denied her every request for something other than water and food bars, and now it seemed to be broken too.

She could hear it pouring some type of liquid into what looked like a cup. Stubbornly, she thought that she did not want to get up again. It was so late, and she really needed to get some sleep. But then her senses were disturbed, awakened by something she hadn't smelled in a long time. The familiarity of the scent washed over her, sending her back to something warm, something comforting.

Cautiously, she scuffled over to the replicator, not fully trusting her own senses. Inhaling deeply, she closed her eyes and reached for the cup, feeling her hands tremble. She held the cup with both hands and felt the warmth soothe her body.

Raising the cup to her nose, she inhaled and backed towards the couch, placing the cup down on the table and running her hands over the fabric.

The feel was a little different, but she was right back there, on his Ready Room couch, nestled in the corner gazing into his eyes while he reassured her about something. She looked at the cup on the table and once again took it with both hands, bringing it to her lips.

The taste of nutmeg brought tears to her eyes as she savored even the sweetness of the milk. As she placed the empty cup on the table, she felt her body relax and on the brink of sleep. She rose to crawl into bed but stopped at the console.

____________________________________________

He heard a chirp from the console and leapt out of bed, still wide awake. His fingers trembled as he pressed the button.

"Jean-Luc..." he could almost hear how she would say his name.

"I don't think that's the intended usage for five-star override codes...

But tell Aunt Adele … thank you.

Beverly."

He smiled. She had liked it. She had. And she had remembered.

Chapter Text

The next morning, as she was escorted, she found herself oddly looking forward to seeing him on the bench. Left in the same spot as the day before, she turned toward the bench, inhaling to say good morning... until she realized it was empty. Scanning the foyer, she didn't find what she hoped for.

Perhaps he had already been called inside. Starfleet hadn't been as punctual as one would expect.

She sighed and walked slowly towards the bench, taking the same spot as the day before. Tilting her head up, she looked through the skylight and was suddenly overcome with a sense of fear that she might never see him again.

Maybe they had finished questioning him, and he had managed to be released. Perhaps the warm milk had been a goodbye, rather than what it had felt like.

She knew her thoughts were irrational, but her mind went there nonetheless. He hadn't been in her life for almost 25 years, and now she panicked at the thought of not seeing him.

Covering her face with her hands, she shook her head violently, trying to rid herself of those thoughts. He wouldn't just leave... their son... or her, would he?

Suddenly, she rose violently, hands still over her face, with the urge to make a run for it. As she did, she felt herself crash into a warm body. Removing her hands, she closed her eyes for a moment, feeling his hands gently placed on her arms.

She knew that touch, and as she opened her eyes, they met his, only inches apart.

She let out a startled breath.

He watched her, appearing calmer than he felt.

Just as he was about to say good morning, she wrapped herself around him in the tightest embrace he could remember. It felt as if she was trying to absorb him into herself.

"Good morning," he managed to say, his head resting against her hair. He felt her trembling against him, still holding on tightly, and in response, he tightened his grip around her.

As she held him, he sensed his entire being relaxing in ways it hadn't in 25 years. He reciprocated the embrace, moving his hand from her back to her head, running his fingers through her hair as he rested his forehead against hers. Her breathing became more erratic,

“It’s alright …” he said softly … “It’s alright …”

As he said those words, she let out the most heartbreaking sob... To him, it sounded like what he had felt for all those years without her...

"I’m sorry..." she whispered.

"Shhhhh..." he soothed, running his thumb over her cheekbone. As they remained tethered by their foreheads, he felt her breathing starting to calm down. He ran his hands down her arms and wrapped his hands around hers, catching her eyes with his in a silent inquiry of her well-being...

He hadn’t said it out loud, but she nodded.

He started fidgeting with his hands in hers. “Did...” he needed to clear his throat. “Did you get to see Jack?”

She nodded. “He... they are treating him alright. Physically, he should be fine.” She bit her lip and took a deep breath.

Jean-Luc could see the devastation on her face and felt it acutely.

“Jean-Luc, he feels the burden of it all. He feels responsible for everything... and he kept...” she paused and wiped her nose with her sleeve. “Jean-Luc, he kept asking me, how many casualties there are... he doesn’t know the extent of... this...” she said, her voice breaking.

Jean-Luc closed his eyes, knowing all too well what his son was feeling, just as she knew that he knew what their son was feeling.

“We have to help him... Jean-Luc…”

“We will... of course, we will... I could...” He stopped himself, remembering how the conversation about his Borg DNA had gone.

“Or rather, it would probably be better if WE... told him about what happened after Wolf 359, and how you helped me... heal.”

She nodded. “They wouldn’t tell me when they would let him go... What if they don’t…”

“They will,” he reassured her. “They will. Just as they should be done with us soon…”

“I don’t know where to…” she was cut off.

“Dr. Crusher, we are ready for you now…”

She looked into Jean-Luc’s eyes, and he could feel her tighten her grip on his hands.

“Dr. Crusher…”

“I’ll see you soon,” he said, sensing both fear and apprehension from her.

At that, she nodded and composed herself.

She wanted to kiss him. He wanted to kiss her.

“Dr. Crusher!”

The Commander’s raised voice made her flinch and return to reality.

“Yes…” she said as she pulled her hands from his, wiped her cheeks, and walked inside the room.

At first, he stood in front of the bench like a statue, breathing, attempting not to break into tears, knowing that he would be called in momentarily as well.

He sat himself down on the bench and looked at the closed door to the room she had disappeared into.

He wanted to kick it down, lock his hands back into hers, and take her and their son away. Just away.

He trailed his fingers along the cool surface of the bench and looked up through the skylight, reflecting on the feeling of her against him for the first time in so long.

Chapter Text

0112. He fiddled with his PADD again, connecting it to the console, but as he did, he felt a wave of doubt wash over him. He didn’t want to ruin what he considered a pivotal moment between them. It had been, in truth, the most naked they had ever been with eachother ... which, considering their history, was saying a lot. He smirked bashfully to himself as he left the PADD by the console and began pacing around the room.

“Computer, location of Dr. Beverly Crusher.”

“That information is currently unavailable.”

He sighed. Perhaps it was for the best. He didn’t want to intrude on her in her quarters anyway. No, targeting her designated comm signature... that was forward enough.

He crossed the room and sat on the couch, only to stand up a few seconds later. He could still feel their embrace as vividly as if her arms were still wrapped around him, and he felt an almost desperate urge to seek it out again. Just one more touch. One more moment nuzzling his face into her hair.

He sat back down by the console with a deep sigh.

_____________________________________

0114. She splashed cold water on her face and studied her reflection in the mirror. It had been so long since he had truly seen her. Did he still see her? The Beverly he had loved. Was she even still … her?

Taking a deep breath, she traced her fingers across her cheekbone, where he had done the same. Wrapping her arms around herself, she acknowledged that it had been a special moment, one she would cherish, but they couldn't go down that road again.

Removing her robe, she adjusted the strap on her light grey nightgown and slipped under the covers in her bed. She knew sleep would evade her, but she had to try.

"See you soon." He had meant tomorrow morning. Nothing more. She began fidgeting with her hands as she tossed from side to side. When their eyes had met earlier, she hadn't seen anger in his eyes, and she hoped he hadn't seen it in hers either.

The replicator buzzed, making her chuckle and frown. "More milk," she thought, amused by his persistence.

He was incorrigible, trusting his own moves perhaps a little too much, she smirked. She waited a moment, savoring the gesture, but the scent of nutmeg eluded her. Maybe it hadn't worked this time.

Getting out of bed, she walked cautiously to the replicator, unable to make out what it had presented her with.

As she reached it, her face contorted into a combination of a smile and a tense attempt not to start crying. "Jean-Luc," she whispered, sighing as tears trickled down her cheeks.

She took the single-stemmed crimson red orchid in her hand.

How had he managed this? It must have taken hours. She brought it to her face; it even had that subtle scent he knew she loved.

He was the only person in her life, until their son, who had taken any detailed interest in her passion for orchids. Perhaps it was the vigneron in him, but she had always appreciated how he had applied himself and made an effort to learn about what distinguished the different species and what she liked about each of them. And this one … in her hand right now … was her favorite … He had remembered.

She ran it across her cheek and closed her eyes until it left her breathless. Placing it on the table, she regarded it as if it were almost dangerous.

Backing towards the wall, she leaned against it and started gently banging the back of her head into it, trying to distract herself.

Resolutely, she returned to bed and immediately engaged in an almost physical struggle with the covers, unable to find any kind of rest. Exhaling, she began counting the lines in the ceiling.

"Open the door," he had said. "To go where..." she scoffed to herself as she rose and punched his override code into the console by the door. It swished open, and she stood in the opening for a bit, switching from foot to foot.

She didn’t even have shoes on. "Where the hell did she think she was going?" she asked herself as she walked out and down the hall towards the lift. Upon entering, she gave the command, certain that she would be denied access and then that would be that, and she could calmly go back to her room.

"Foyer C." The lift started moving. "Computer, halt." The lift halted. Her breathing escalated. "Resume."

As the doors opened, she stepped out into the hallway towards the doorway to their spot—the bench.

She rolled her eyes at herself. It was the middle of the night. What the hell was she doing barefoot in her nightgown in Foyer C of Starfleet HQ? She reasoned that she had lost her mind from not sleeping.

The room was dark, only lit by the moonlight from the skylight. She could discern the outline of the bench across the room.

Shaking her head, she took one step forward, prepared to turn and go back to the lift when she opted to take a final glance at the bench. And there it was, an indistinct outline of something more than mere bench.

She gasped.

"It’s only me," he said, almost as breathless as she felt. "It’s only me," he repeated, as if to convince himself that she wasn’t a specter.

She looked in the direction of his voice, and as her eyes adjusted to the dark, she could see him much clearer.

Rising from his seated position on the bench, he remained there, right in front of it. She felt her stomach churn out of control and found herself returning to a mix of a smile and a sob.

Before she could reason any further with herself, she ran into his arms, crashing into his face, planting an almost animalistic kiss on his lips, then his neck, then popping the buttons on his shirt, as she wrapped her legs around his hips, making him stumble back down onto the bench.

“Beverly … I …”

“Stop talking,” she whispered, her hands trailing down his chest followed by her lips.

She ripped his shirt clear off, and he smiled as he felt the cool surface of the bench against his back.

Chapter Text

“This bench is really uncomfortable…” she chuckled.

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I’m beginning to be quite fond of it…” he smiled.

They lay intertwined in each other’s bodies, managing to remain on the bench despite its limitations. The foyer was dark and quiet, lending an air of forbiddenness to their actions. Yet, they had both acted almost unconcerned, unable to care in the wake of everything that had happened.

“Where’s my nightgown…” she asked, squirming in his arms.

“I don’t think we need that just yet… not just yet…” he replied, tightening his tender grip around her.

“I really think we do… Jean-Luc, somebody could come…”

“Nobody is around at this hour, Beverly. Even during the day, we are more or less alone here…”

“We’re here… so…”

“Yes, we are…”

Feeling her move again, he rolled her over so she was on top of him, their eyes meeting, quickly followed by their lips. She teasingly danced her lips over his, barely touching, yet every touch sent a shiver through his exhausted body.

As she lifted her head, she smiled that smile he hadn’t seen in over 25 years, not since their first day on Casperia Prime.

The thought of what he had lost and what he could have had overwhelmed him as she lay on top of him, warm and beautiful, everything he had ever truly wanted. Had he only realized that… then.

He hugged her against his chest, kissing the top of her head.

“I… don’t have the words,” he said.

“For what?” she asked softly, her face pressed against his neck.

He took a moment.

“For all the things that I’m feeling right now…”

She raised her head, looking at him with worry in her eyes, as if searching for the anger that had been there only a few days ago.

He stroked her cheek, his touch filled with tenderness. The anger she sought seemed to be buried… at least for now.

Running his hand down her cheek and over her shoulder to her upper arm, he drew circles on her skin.

He swallowed. “I… I have missed you…” his voice broke.

The sincerity and regret in his voice sent a shiver through her body.

“I have missed you too, Jean-Luc… But I… I had to go…”

“I know…” he said, closing his eyes, regretting the decisions he had made that had created the reality that had forced her hand like that.

“I didn’t mean for that…” he said after a moment. “I so wanted to keep you close. I suppose, sometimes so close, that I didn’t know how… and it overwhelmed me to an extent that I didn’t understand what I needed to do.”

She sighed. “I know, Jean-Luc… But… You really never had to do anything but share your life with me…”

There was a sudden clank in the corridor that made them both flinch and scramble for their clothes. Their movements became frantic, and they ended up rolling off the bench onto the floor.

“Ow… Jean-Luc… Ow…” She laughed. “We’re too old for this…”

“Depends on which THIS you’re referring to…” he teased. “But if you’re referring to lying flat on the floor and getting up without help, absolutely…”

“Speak for yourself there,” she snorted, putting on her nightgown. “Jean-Luc… where are my panties?”

He looked around from the floor. “Um, I don’t know…”

“Well, please help me find them. You took them off me…” She started searching in the faded light of early dawn… “Come on, Jean-Luc…”

He watched her silhouette as the moonlight danced over her graceful figure…

“Jean-Luc… I’m not being escorted here in the morning with my panties lying in the middle of the floor for the commander to find. I’m just not…” she said, slightly frantic, trying to stifle a laugh.

"Beverly, a hand, please," he said, reaching towards her.

"Oh, you weren't kidding," she teased.

"Beverly…" he said, sounding slightly offended yet smiling as she pulled him up from the floor.

Within minutes, they were dressed, except she still wasn't wearing her panties.

"How did you lose them, Jean-Luc? We've been here the entire time," she said. "

Well, I didn't eat them if that's what you're implying," he retorted.

She snorted. "Well, it wasn't, but since you went there on your own…"

He interrupted her teasing by pulling her against him and kissing her tenderly and long.

"Jean-Luc, we have to go… The sun is rising."

"Yes, it is," he said, not looking outside, but only at her.

"Okay, Jean-Luc, I swear that was the lift I heard…"

They both stood quietly and listened. "I don't hear anything," he said.

"Well, of course you don't," she retorted. "You can't even get off the floor…"

He smiled broadly at her this time. "I have missed this…"

"What… looking for my panties at HQ?"

He burst out laughing. "No, this… you making me laugh so…"

She smiled shyly. "Okay, someone is definitely coming… damn it…" she whispered as they both hid against the wall, an ensign passing through the foyer and out the other corridor.

"Come on," she said, "I think it's clear…"

They hurried down the corridor, splitting in separate directions towards their individual quarters…

As she stood in the lift, she felt the cool floor against her bare feet, the warmth in her cheeks, and the distinct feeling of not wearing panties.

Chapter Text

As she was escorted through the corridors back towards the foyer a few hours later, warmth once again rose into her cheeks, accompanied by a shiver through her body. She felt nervous, though unsure exactly why.

So many thoughts churned in her head … concern for her son, fear for what was next, the practical reality of having nowhere to go, and the inexplicable irritation of still being … in love with Jean-Luc Picard.

As they approached the door to the foyer, her eyes met his in the opposing corridor. He too had an escort in tow, though their disinterest made them seem rather superfluous.

She felt herself take in an extra breath of air as they turned through the opening at the same time, their shoulders touching by a millimeter.

"Good morning," he said in a deep, confident voice, masking the turmoil he felt, just as she did. She smiled in response as she, as a matter of habit now, sat down on 'her' end of the bench.

Her eyes briefly searched across the space. He smiled, realizing why, as he did the same, before sitting down on 'his' end of the bench.

"This should be the last of it," he said softly. "I don’t see them keeping us here beyond today."

She nodded, knowing that he had probably pulled some strings to obtain the information, explaining the confidence he showed.

"How did you sleep?" he smiled.

"Briefly … but … well …" she chuckled.

"Yes…" he said as he slid his hand across the surface of the bench until it nearly touched her thigh, an imagined sensation that made her slide sideways towards him. As she did, she felt him wrap his arm around her waist.

Briefly, he looked around the room before pulling her further sideways until she was pressed against him. As their hips met, she turned her torso towards him and planted what was intended to be a soft, brief good morning kiss on his lips. Within seconds, their tongues started an intimate dance, while she resisted every impulse in her body not to swing her leg across and straddle him.

He wrapped his fingers into her hair as they both became more and more lost in the moment, feeling the space around them fade away, with only the coolness of the surface of the bench to remind them where they were.

"Um…" a voice behind them said. Beverly flinched and pushed her hands against Jean-Luc, making her slide back to her spot on the far end of the bench while he fell slightly backwards.

"Jack… honey…"  she exclaimed, cheeks flushing bright red. At the sight of her son, she quickly shook off her own embarrassment and rose to hug him, relieved when she felt him do the same.

"How are you, baby?" she asked softly, a few tears escaping down her cheeks. He simply nodded. "I really want to get out of here, mum…"

"Yes… Jack… We… Your father and I, we have, we think, our final debriefings in a moment, and then, we'll figure something out."

Jack tilted his head and looked into his mother's eyes, realizing that she had most likely also had a trying week. Then he looked to his father.

"Hello, Jack…" Jean-Luc said, cautiously placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I'll get us all out of here…" he said resolutely and walked to the door, knocking before punching in his code and simply entering. Beverly and Jack watched him disappear. Her mind churned, but she chose to believe that he would find a way. She simply didn’t have the energy to think any further about it. Instead, she pulled Jack down to sit on the bench as she started examining him, stroking his hair, checking his temperature with a hand on his forehead.

"Mum… stop fussing. I'm fine…"

She smiled and sighed.

"How are you, Mum?"

"Fine…"

He raised his eyebrow. "Mmmmhmm…"

She knew what he was trying to ask… "We'll be fine… better… Jack. I promise… It's just going to take some time for all of us…"

He nodded. They sat on the bench for a while, Beverly holding Jack’s hand as she had when he was little and couldn’t sleep. The door swished open.

"Right, let's get out of here…" Jean-Luc said, seemingly relieved and quite happy with himself.

"What… Are we free to go?" Beverly asked.

"Yes, we are… Technically, we always were…" he said.

She scoffed.

"… and I simply reminded them of that… They have everything they need from us, and then some."

He offered her his hand, and she instinctively took it, and rose. Jack observed his parents before looking down at his fidgeting hands, much more quiet than usual.

"Ready, son?" Jean-Luc asked. Jack looked questioningly at his mother.

"Jean-Luc… I…" Beverly started. "We have nowhere to go…"

He looked equal parts surprised and offended at that. "What… Well… of course you do. You both have a home for however long you want."

She knew what he meant, but she didn’t want to assume or say it out loud. "Do you still have your apartment here in the city…" she asked.

"I don’t use that anymore. I haven’t for a long time…"

"Please… allow me to invite you both to Labarre… I was always waiting for you there. For you both, without even knowing it. It’s yours."

They all took a moment, exchanging glances. Jack then tilted his head back on the bench, allowing the sun's rays shining through the skylight to warm his face. He rested in that position for a moment before his expression changed.

"Jack, is something wrong…?" Beverly asked, concerned about whether a trip to Labarre was overwhelming for him.

Jack's mind seemed to be churning as his eyes widened slightly.

Almost simultaneously, Beverly and Jean-Luc looked up to see what had caught their son's gaze. Beverly's eyes widened even further than Jack's as she looked panicked at Jean-Luc.

He cleared his throat to say something authoritative. "Alright… what are we waiting for?" Jack suddenly exclaimed, realizing that he did not want any of his parents to be a part of the conversation that could potentially unfold.

Jean-Luc smiled with relief, while Beverly still looked like a deer in headlights. Jack rose and went between his parents, wrapping an arm around each of them.

"I expect the chateau is big enough for me to live in the opposite end of the house from you two…" Jack then smirked as he walked them all towards the exit.

As the doors swished closed behind them, the foyer stood empty, and the bench abandoned, cool and confident, with a direct view to a pair of panties on the frame of the skylight directly above.

Chapter Text

The days that followed blurred together, and the bench faded into the background.

The foyer had felt intimate, but the freedom they encountered at the chateau, against the backdrop of all the Federation's losses, and of their own losses, was a new and uncertain space they were all struggling to navigate.

Jack swung between rejecting any attempt at empathy from his parents and collapsing into their arms, sobbing when his guilt overcame his defenses.

Jean-Luc, for the first time, opened up about his experiences at Wolf 359 in a way he never had before.

Beverly had spent years trying to get past his walls, and though he’d occasionally let her in, they both knew there had always been more unsaid than spoken.

But as it became clear that what helped Jack most was seeing himself reflected in his father … the shared manipulation they both now understood … Jean-Luc had laid himself bare.

Beverly's heart had warmed, knowing how hard it was for him to do that, especially for a man like him. Yet, alongside that feeling, she had also found herself wrestling with a deep hurt, even anger, over the fact that he had never fully opened up before.

She felt the cost of that silence in the past, what it had taken from them.

The more this feeling crept in, the angrier she became, not at Jean-Luc, but at herself, for blaming him now when he was doing the right thing.

She thought they had both started moving past that festering resentment after those nights and days in HQ.

She was grateful he could give their son what he needed, but it still stung to realize he had never been willing to offer that same vulnerability to her.

Or perhaps, more painfully, she was angry at herself for feeling this way and wondering if she had given up on him when maybe she should have given him one last chance all those years go. She wasn’t sure.

On the third night in Labarre, Beverly jolted awake, gasping for air, as if suffocating.

She flung the duvet aside and fled the room. She then stumbled down the stairs, through the living room, and burst through the patio doors into the cool dawn air.

At the edge of the tiles, she stopped, staring across the flowered fields and rows of vines.

The sun was still an hour away from rising, but the faint light gave just enough clarity for her to make out shapes and muted colors.

Her breath was ragged and she wrapped her arms tightly around herself, her fingers gripping as if trying to keep herself together very literally. But it wasn’t working.

A sob escaped her. Come on, Beverly. You can’t fall apart like this. Get it together.

She tried to focus on the horizon once more, before shutting her eyes to feel the cool morning breeze.

Come on. But the harder she tried to regain control, the more her body seemed to betray her. She started shaking and now felt lightheaded from the panic she just couldn’t push down.

And then she felt them … strong, warm arms wrapping around her from behind, pulling her close. His embrace was firm, his cheek resting against hers.

“It’s alright, Beverly,” Jean-Luc whispered softly in her ear. “You’re safe. Everything’s going to be alright.”

At first, her body tensed even more. “I can’t breathe, Jean-Luc…” she gasped. He loosened his hold, worried that he was the cause, but she immediately gripped his arms, holding him there, and he tightened his embrace again.

“Long, slow breaths,” he soothed. “How many times have you talked me through this after my nightmares? Long, slow breaths. I’ve got you.” He kissed her temple and rested his lips there as he felt her body slowly begin to relax and her breathing finding a steadier rhythm.

“That’s it,” he whispered.

As her tension eased, she turned toward him, or maybe he gently guided her, he wasn’t sure.

He kissed her forehead, pulling her close again, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other tracing comforting patterns along her bare back beneath her nightgown.

The air was cold, but her warmth against him was somehow grounding.

They stood there, wrapped in each other, until her breathing returned to normal and the shaking had subsided.

“There’s a chill. Let’s go back inside,” he murmured.

She nodded, and together they headed back in. In his study, he led her to the couch, gently draping a blanket over her shoulders before pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“A cup of tea, I think…” he said softly.

She swallowed and nodded.

“I’ll be right back.”

She nodded again, sighing deeply.

The feeling of defeat was overcoming her. After all those months on the run, all those years alone, she had never let herself fall apart.

There had been moments where the overwhelming sense of loss had threatened to consume her, but she had always managed to stand firm, both outwardly and within herself.

But now … when they were actaully safe, when she was finally back in the arms she'd missed for so long … she felt herself slipping. It was disorienting, and she hated feeling weak.

The clink of two cups on the glass table brought her back to the moment.

Jean-Luc muttered something she didn’t quite catch before sitting down beside her, at a cautious distance, much like those first days on the bench.

“How are you feeling?” he asked gently, handing her a cup of chamomile tea, scented with honey and a hint of nutmeg.

She nodded, forcing a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Beverly, it’s alright. You don’t always have to be so strong.”

Her eyes closed tightly and she pressed her lips together. Why now? Why pick on that now?

Her chest tightened, and she felt tears building. She shook her head and tried to fend them off.

“Beverly…” His voice was so soft, so sincere, and she felt him shift closer as his thigh now brushed against hers.

“I can’t, Jean-Luc. Jack needs us to be strong. Both of us. We have to be here for him,” she said in a voice that faltered more than she intended.

He nodded. “And we are, Beverly. You are.”

She shook her head again.

“But you’ve been through so much. Don’t forget, you took two disruptor blasts to your upper body, saving our son’s life. And before that, you were running for months. You don’t need me to tell you about post-traumatic stress.”

“I’ve been shot before,” she murmured. “I’ve been kidnapped, attacked, lost… too many times, Jean-Luc.”

The thought of harm coming to her made him shudder.

“Yes, you have. But you weren’t always alone. I can’t pretend to understand what you’ve lived through all these years I wasn’t there. I know you’re strong, Beverly. I don’t think anyone has suffered as much loss as you and still held on to such gentle humanity. You’re extraordinary. But even you need to let yourself feel... let yourself need something.”

She fell silent as the tears started spilling over, running down her cheeks like mini waterfalls and onto his hand, which had somehow found its way to rest on her thigh.

When she finally looked at him, she saw a single tear on his cheek as well.

“I love you,” he whispered.

Her face crumbled, and she buried it in her hands.

“Hey…” he murmured after a moment. “Talk to me, Beverly.”

“What if I hadn’t left, Jean-Luc? What if I had stayed, trusted you to… to be…” her voice trailed off as she moved her hands from her own face to his.

“Jack’s father,” he finished for her.

She nodded.

“Maybe none of this would’ve happened. Maybe you’d have found out about his connection to the Borg earlier, and maybe we could have…” Her voice grew panicked.

“Or… they would have found him sooner. Or he might’ve succumbed to their influence because I was around. We don’t know. You followed your instincts. You protected our son, gave birth to him, raised him, loved him with everything you had. No one could have done more than that ...”

“But we could have done it together,” she sobbed.

“Perhaps. Or maybe you knew me too well then, knew it wouldn’t have been that simple. It might not have looked anything like the way we imagine it now, with hindsight. You reacted to the reality of who I was, of the choices I was making then. You couldn’t have done more, or less. Every decision comes with consequences, and I understand the ones you made. I do, Beverly.”

“I was never sure, Jean-Luc. I always doubted whether I’d made the right choice,” she said with a pained face. “I always loved you… And Jack … he looks so damn much like you that I could never…”

Her voice trailed off as he pulled her close, kissing the tears from her cheeks.

“It doesn’t matter now. We all made choices… and they brought us here, to this moment.”

He glanced around, a slight smirk playing on his lips. “We always do seem to somehow end up on a purple couch.”

She laughed, a choking sound, but genuine. “I was going to ask you about the color,” she said softly, offering a smile that finally reached her eyes.

“It’s called Amethyst,” he teased, grinning.

He stroked her wet cheeks with his thumbs. “I have something to show you tomorrow. Or later today, I suppose it is …”

Chapter Text

1830

Later that evening, the three of them cleared the remnants of their dinner into the recycler.

The meal had passed quickly, but Jack’s spirits seemed noticeably lighter than in the days before. He’d even managed a few jokes at his father’s expense, poking fun at Jean-Luc’s wine-making skills.

Normally, this would have been a sensitive topic for him, but tonight, it did nothing but warm his heart.

Seeing Jack starting to reclaim a sense of himself, even if it was in unfounded teasing, made Jean-Luc welcome any criticism, whether it be about corkiness, or accusations of producing "vinegar in a fancy bottle." He’d even take jabs about “replicated synthohol with delusions of grandeur” if it meant more smiles from his son.

And when one of those smiles spread across Beverly's face too, he'd take any wine-related insult Jack could throw his way. At least for now.

Once the kitchen was tidied, Beverly reached for Jean-Luc’s hand.

“So…” she said with a faintly familiar glint in her eyes that sent him back in time.

“So?” he echoed, half-smiling.

“What was it?” she continued.

“What was what?” he asked, holding her hand, enjoying the simple feel of it, but still unsure of her meaning.

Jack raised an eyebrow, just as confused.

“You said you had something you wanted to show me…”

“Ah, yes… but it’s late now. You must be tired,” Jean-Luc replied, though reluctant to reveal to Jack that she, that they, had been up most of the night.

“A little,” she admitted, hesitating for a second. “But I wouldn’t mind a distraction…”

Her tone was vulnerable in way that told him she would rather not be left alone with her thoughts.

Without thinking further, he lifted her hand to his lips.

In flashes, he was back on the bench. Yet, there was still this sense of duality to their lives. One version of them by day, armored and cautious for Jack’s sake, and another at night when the armor fell away because they didn’t have the strength to carry it anymore.  

“Alright,” he said softly. “If you're up for a walk.”

Jack smirked. “I’m sensing this isn’t an outing for me.”

Jean-Luc glanced at Beverly, caught off guard.

“You’re welcome to join us,” he said, though it was clear from his look that he wasn’t quite sure what the answer should be.

Jack snorted, having succeeded in making his father uncomfortable. “No, I’m good. Just… everyone try to keep their knickers on this time.”

“Jack!” Beverly’s voice shot up, as Jack’s face flushed red, clearly regretting saying it out loud.

Jean-Luc bit his lip, stifling a grin, but he turned his back on Jack, trying to hide his amusement.

Beverly shot Jean-Luc a wide-eyed, loving but chastising look, though her eyes told him she was also holding back a smirk.

“Sorry,” Jack muttered, barely meeting their eyes. “Enjoy your walk.”

He kissed his mother’s cheek, then raised his eyebrows at his father before retreating.

"It’s about a twenty-minute walk," he said, offering her a light jacket. She immediately tossed it back onto the hook.

“It’s still warm out,” she replied softly.

“Not for long…” he countered, eyeing her as she shrugged with a mischievous smile that both excited and slightly baffled him.

He knew she was always a little cold outdoors, but that smile made him bite back the comment.

Instead, she slipped her hand into his again showing him she was more than ready to go.

They set off from the house, moving steadily upward. The rows of vines stretched out before the and the air smelled of a mixture of earth and greenery.

She stayed close to him and they were still holding hands. For a while, the silence between them felt natural.

They exchanged occasional looks, but the farther they walked, she noticed how his determination seemed to fade.

His hand tensed slightly in hers and as they reached the base of a hill, his pace slowed. By the time they started the climb, his grip loosened entirely.

She squeezed his hand in response, which made him smile briefly.

“Jean-Luc, what’s wrong?” she asked softly.

He stopped, exhaling deeply. He knew he couldn’t hide from her, and he also didn’t want to.

"Ah... this seemed like a good idea last night. Showing you, I mean. But now, in the light of day, I’m not so sure anymore."

“Why not?” she asked. Her voice was still gentle but also quite probing.

He hesitated, looking away for a moment. “I… I wasn’t always in the best place during the years we were apart. And what I wanted to show you… it’s something I had made for what I think were the right reasons. But that doesn’t mean it makes much sense now.”

“Jean-Luc, we’ve seen each other vulnerable,” she reminded him softly.

“Yes, but not like this.” His voice was quieter now, almost fragile. “I could always retreat into Starfleet, hide what I wasn’t ready to tell you. I did it believing, selfishly, that you’d always be there …”

She swallowed, not sure whether to protest or not. “Show me …”

He sighed and ran his hand gently along her jawline. “It’s just up here…”

They continued the short walk to the top of the hill, where a large poplar stood sentinel over the landscape. When they reached it, he stopped just shy of the tree and as he let go of her hand he gestured toward the shaded spot beneath the branches of the tree.

She paused and moved her gaze from him to the place he was pointing to, then back again. For a moment, she stood still … thinking.

Its edges were smooth and looked only slightly worn by time and weather. The back of it curved gently. It wasn’t ornate as such, but it was unmistakably thoughtful and definitely sturdy.

“It’s a bench …” she finally contributed.

He nodded. “It is...”

“It’s beautiful,” she said softly, still trying to grasp why he looked both solemn and a little embarrassed.

She approached the bench, running her hands over its smooth surface. The material felt unfamiliar, cool to the touch, but with a warmth that surprised her. Its bluish-grey hue wasn’t painted, but seemed almost otherworldly.

Jean-Luc shifted beside her, kicking a few loose pebbles. “I thought it would make sense to put a bench here. The view... it’s always been something.”

“Yes, it is.” She looked out over the hills, the rows of vines, the winding roads in the distance. “I can see why you’d spend time here.”

“I’ve spent many hours up here,” he admitted quietly as he sat down next to her. His hand rested on hers. “Waiting...”

Her chest tightened.  “Waiting for what?”

He exhaled and looked strained. “For two things, usually. Two very different things.”

Her gaze followed the paths below. “What things, Jean-Luc?”

He looked ahead. “You. I waited for you. I thought, one day, whatever had taken you away... it would be done with you or you with it. And you’d come back. To me. Because...” His voice faltered. “I couldn’t see my life ending without you in it.”

She felt her breath catch in her throat. “Jean-Luc, I...”

“No, don’t.” He cut her off gently. “Don’t say you’re sorry. I’m the one who should be. I sat here, fading, instead of truly looking for you. I should’ve kept searching. Maybe then you’d believe me when I tell you... nothing Starfleet gave me mattered after you left. It was my fault.”

“Jean-Luc... I told you before. I was never sure of the choices I made. And I did love you,” she said as her voice started trembling.

He nodded “Thank you.”

She scoffed, shaking her head. “I’m not sure that’s the right response...”

“Maybe not, but it’s what I needed to say.”

They turned toward each other at the same moment, meeting in a soft and very hesitant kiss, that felt so fragile.

“I missed you too, Jean-Luc. I spent so many moments wondering what you were doing, where you were...”

“And many of those moments, I was probably here,” he said with a small, bittersweet smile, resting his forehead against hers.

She closed her eyes at the closeness. “You said there were two things you waited for... What was the other?”

He sighed deeply. “Death.”

Her breath hitched.

He stayed still, his forehead still against hers.

“There wasn’t really a life for me without you, Beverly. Not until after I died, at least. It wasn’t until then that I discovered something about myself... a little light came back, perhaps.”

She let out another softer sob. “I’m sorry I didn’t come back before you...”

“Died?” he finished, feeling her nod against him.

He pulled back slightly, offering a weak smile. “This conversation went darker than I intended... I was intent on cheering you up.”

She let out a shaky chuckle and she felt her tears mixing with her laughter. “Painting a picture of you sitting here for over a decade, waiting for me or for death? Yes, that’s doing wonders for my mood.”

He smiled, his hand brushing her cheek. “But it’s because I have realized something very important, Beverly. About me and about you.”

“Oh yeah?” She raised a brow with her voice still catching. “What’s that?”

Chapter Text

She anxiously ran her fingers across the smooth, undefinable surface of his bench.

“Jean-Luc…” Her voice quivered in a way that matched the nervousness of her fidgeting hands.

He turned toward her seeming calm in a way that disoriented her.

A deep, knowing smile was lighting his face and made her profoundly confused about what was going on in his mind.

He cupped her cheek and let his fingertips gently trace her skin.

“So beautiful…” he murmured in a soft and low voice. “L'amour n'est pas le jouet du temps…”

She let out a nervous laugh at first, but her smile quickly faltered and was replaced by a far more pensive look.

“L'amour ne change pas avec ses heures et ses semaines,” he continued as he kept his eyes steady on hers.

“Jean-Luc…” she whispered in a thin and unsure voice. “I know you insist that … you’ve forgiven me, but even if we still… fit… Time hasn’t exactly been kind to us, has it? We’ve loved each other for over 50 years… and still, Jean-Luc, here we are.”

“Exactly,” he said sounding full of purpose suddenly.

“I don’t understand…” she replied as she felt her throat tightening. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t you see, Beverly? We’ve made it.”

“Made it?”

He nodded, his smile growing.

“Yes. You and I … we’ve made it. I’ve loved you since the first moment I saw you, and from that day, our lives have intertwined in every imaginable and unimaginable way. Through guilt, through loss… my damn sense of duty…”

He exhaled heavily. “But never, not once, in all of it, have you been anything other than the one person I wanted to sit with, on this bench, right now.”

She shook her head, attempting to deflect with a scoff, but before she could find words to match her hesitation, he gently pulled her into a kiss.

It started tender and delicate, like before, but soon deepened and became both soul-sucking and very convincing.

When they finally pulled apart, they were both breathless.

“Beverly,” he whispered, his voice now catching.

“I died. Everything … life, as we know it … was almost destroyed. And yet, here we are, you and I… in this very moment. Much like what you said to Will on the Titan. All that we’ve been through, everything that led us here: Jack’s death, our losses, my guilt, our years of service together, all those breakfasts… those five times…”

He smiled a little before continuing, his voice turning softer.

“My blindness, you leaving me, our son, the Borg… everything, Beverly. And yet, here we are, sitting on this bench together. And down there, in the house, is our beautiful boy, the one you’ve kept safe for two decades… so that we may now finally be a family. That is … if you’ll have me … ”

She let out a quiet sob and a  smile appeared on her face as she wiped at her eyes.

“Here we are,” she whispered.

“I love you deeply,” he continued and wrapped her hand in his. “And while I might not have always believed in this moment, this… this is what ‘making it’ always looked like for me.”

He took her hands firmer in his, guiding them to the front edge of the bench, urging her to feel.

Her fingers traced over the carved surface, and she knelt down in front of it, trailing her touch over the engraved words.

Her chin quivered and her breath caught.

If this be error and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

“Our sonnet…” she whispered.

He nodded and watched as her fingers kept moving over the engraving. He then shifted beside her while waiting for her to fully absorb the point he was trying to make.

“It's…” he began, placing his hand on the bench, gliding his fingertips over the surface she’d just touched. “… duranium.”

She looked up at him.

“Duranium?”

He nodded.

“Indestructible…” she whispered, in a way that made him unsure whether she was speaking to him or herself.

“Exactly… It’s as permanent as I could make it. Made not to be eroded by time or much of anything. Because while I might… die, as I’ve already done once…” he gave a brief, almost rueful smile, “…this, how I feel, how I see us, it had to be something that would last beyond me.”

She sat back a little, her fingers still tracing the otherworldly surface.

“‘If this be error and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved,’” he recited softly. “I’ve clung to those words… for more moments than I can count. Every time I thought of you, every time I felt the weight of losing you or the guilt of not finding you… even when I found myself angry with you… I always ended up in the same place… that no matter what, my love for you would never cease.”

He paused and swallowed hard.

“I may have been a fool in it all, Beverly… but for my part, it was always true. And I have since then learned that nothing else really was. Not my position in Starfleet, not duty, hell, not even my own life… all that could fall apart. But how I love you… never did. It doesn’t.”

Her eyes welled up again.

“Jean-Luc, this is not fair…” she said, half crying, half laughing. “You always were far too good at this part…”

He smiled, proudly and nervously all at once.

“You want my big finish?” he asked, raising a teasing eyebrow. “My effort to cheer you up ...”

“Why not…” she responded, raising hers in return.

“This spot… I wanted it to carry our love forward even when we couldn’t. Even if I’d never see you again. This…” he said, patting the surface of the bench, “…it won’t rust, it won’t crack, it won’t fade with time. And I know… I know time has not been kind to us, and we don’t have the years ahead that we should have had… but that’s not the point anymore, is it?”

She shook her head, which gave him confidence.

“We’ve found our way back, haven’t we… and you… you will always be my star to every wandering bark.”

She sobbed. He really was far too adept at this when he wanted to be. He offered her his hand and pulled her back up, sitting on the bench, and for a moment, they simply sat there in the quiet as the sun set beneath the horizon.

She leaned in and rested her head against his shoulder.

“I should have come back sooner…” she whispered. “I would have liked to have walked up on the path below and met you here ... on this bench, in stead of the other one ...” she teased, unable to help herself.

He kissed the top of her head. “You’re here now…”

“Mmm… I suppose, we did make it, didn’t we?”

"Do you think they're still there ...?" he asked.

"What ... the stars ..." she chuckled.

"No, your panties ... at HQ ..."

"JEAN-LUC!!"

Let me not to the marriage of true minds

Admit impediments; love is not love

Which alters when it alteration finds,

Or bends with the remover to remove.

O no, it is an ever-fixèd mark

That looks on tempests and is never shaken;

It is the star to every wand'ring bark

Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.

Love's not time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks

Within his bending sickle's compass come.

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,

But bears it out even to the edge of doom:

If this be error and upon me proved,

I never writ, nor no man ever loved.