Chapter Text
Jean-Luc stood at the window of his study, watching the last of the day’s weak fall sunlight retreat over the horizon. The harvest had just finished in LaBarre, the vines stripped bare, and the château seemed jarringly quiet in its aftermath. His hips rested on the desk behind him, next to him was a glass of wine he'd poured an hour ago and completely forgotten.
He turned from the window to glare accusingly at the PADD on his desk. Six failed communication attempts to Beverly Crusher glowed on the screen, mocking him.
It had been nearly a year since Frontier Day, and for at least the previous six of those months, he'd been working toward a single conversation. A single question, really. Would she consider trying again? A sixth and final attempt where they’d failed so spectacularly… five times before…
He snorted in disgust and flicked his finger down the row of communiqués on the screen. Each one revealed a bit more of his concern. Each one was marked “undelivered,” each one was unanswered. The urge to retract and delete them all rose sharp and sudden.
Perhaps fate was trying to tell him something. He'd been careful, patient, waiting for the right moment. They'd been focused on Jack, supporting their son through his recovery and enrollment at the Academy. It had felt natural to maintain their comfortable distance, their practiced friendship.
But six months ago, everything had changed when he’d been seated opposite Beverly and her escort, Captain Sena, at a Starfleet function. Across the crowded ballroom he’d seen her tilt her head toward the other man and offer him that familiar teasing smile. The one that used to be his, and something inside him had gone very still.
Twenty-five years ago, he would have been her escort to such events. He would have been privy to her slightly off-colour innuendo and risqué jokes. He would have protested when she dragged him onto the dance floor, she would have smiled knowingly, and he would have loved every minute of it.
But he hadn’t asked and she hadn’t offered, though they’d both made passing mention of their mutual attendance. Halfway through an event he usually avoided like the Terellian Plague, he admitted that he’d only come at all, on the off chance of running into her. And a sudden clarity cut through his careful patience. He was running out of time. Again.
Now, months later, Jack had shipped out and the regular communications between himself and Beverly had slowed. Without their son as a central focus, what reason did they have to contact each other? He could feel them drifting, settling back into the patterns of polite distance that had defined so many years of their friendship, this time without even proximity to bind them.
But this silence… This was different. Beverly hadn't been unreachable since Frontier Day. She'd always answered, always let him know where she was, even if they were keeping their distance. For five days now, nothing. He'd even contacted Deanna yesterday, only to learn she had no idea where Beverly had gone.
The worry sat like a stone in his chest. She'd vanished before, left without warning. But that was different. That was for Jack, to keep him safe. She wouldn't do that now. Would she?
“Computer," he said finally, turning from the window. “Connect me to Starfleet Medical, Dr. Crusher's office.”
The screen flickered to life, revealing a young woman in medical blue. She had the slightly harried look of someone covering an unfamiliar post.
“Starfleet Medical, Dr. Crusher's office. Ensign Vex speaking.”
“This is Admiral Jean-Luc Picard. I've been attempting to reach Dr. Crusher for several days without success.”
Recognition flashed across her face, followed immediately by what looked like caution. “Admiral Picard.” She straightened slightly. “I'm temporarily covering for Lieutenant Martinez. There was a medical emergency. Dr. Crusher is currently on leave.”
“Dr. Crusher had a medical emergency?” His voice rose sharply.
“No! That’s not… No, Sir. Dr. Crusher’s PA, Lt. Martinez had an emergency, Sir… Dr. Crusher has been on leave since earlier this week, I believe.” The ensign flushed as she stumbled through the explanation.
Jean-Luc’s shoulders eased fractionally. “I see… Do you know when she'll return from leave then, Ensign?”
Vex consulted her terminal and her flush deepened. “I... Lieutenant Martinez handles her detailed schedule. I know she's expected to be gone for approximately two weeks, but…” She bit her lip, clearly uncomfortable.
“But?” Jean-Luc prompted, the quiet weight of authority slipping into his voice. “Ensign…” He leaned forward slightly. “Where is Dr. Crusher?”
The ensign swallowed. “Her wedding… Sir?”
Jean-Luc became very still.
“I mean -” The words tumbled out faster now. “There's talk around campus about Dr Crusher’s wedding… This weekend. I assumed that's why she's on extended leave, but I don't have official confirmation in her schedule.” She looked down at her terminal as if it might save her. “I'm sorry I can't be more helpful, Admiral. If you'd like to leave a message for Lieutenant Martinez. When he returns, he can -”
“No.” The word came out more sharply than he intended. He softened it slightly. “That won't be necessary. Thank you, Ensign.”
“Is there anything else I can -”
“Where -” He stopped himself, seeing her expression. She didn't know, and asking would only reveal too much. “Never mind. Thank you.”
He disconnected before she could respond.
For a long moment, Jean-Luc sat motionless, staring at the blank screen. The study felt suddenly too warm, the walls too close.
Number One padded into the room, his tail wagging hopefully, but stopped when he reached his master. His chin came to rest on Jean-Luc’s knee, and Picard looked down to find concerned brown eyes watching him.
“Getting married," he said aloud, his hand moving absently to stroke the dog’s head. “Not attending a wedding. The ensign said she'd heard about Dr. Crusher’s wedding.”
Number One's ears perked up at his voice, and he found himself continuing, needing to work through the logic even as his breathing shallowed.
“Two weeks of leave. Extended leave.” He moved to the window again, the dog following. Rows of vines marched off into the distance, stripped branches resembling gnarled fingers set against the rapidly darkening sky. The darkness suddenly felt portentous.
“Medical campus gossip… But gossip usually contains some truth, doesn't it, boy…”
Number One whined softly.
“And… she's been distant.” The words came slowly, reluctantly. “I thought she was giving me space. Time to work things out with Jack. Or that perhaps she was simply busy. But what if…” He stopped. The thought hurt too much to finish.
What if she'd moved on? What if, while he'd been carefully planning and waiting for the right moment, she'd found someone else? Someone who could give her what he'd never been able to offer in all their decades of friendship and false starts?
“Five attempts,” he murmured. “Five failures. All of them my fault, in one way or another.” He turned from the window. “Why would she wait? I've never given her reason to.”
Number One pressed against his leg, offering wordless comfort.
Jean-Luc looked down at him, then back at the comm terminal. He needed to know. Needed confirmation before his mind spiraled further into dark possibilities.
Jack would know. If Beverly were truly getting married, surely she would have told their son.
He moved back to his desk, his hand hovering over the comm controls. Should he even be asking Jack about this? Using their son as a source of information about Beverly's personal life felt wrong, manipulative. But the alternative was sitting here, not knowing, imagining Beverly and some nameless -
“Computer,” he said, his voice rough. “Establish communication with Ensign Jack Crusher aboard the USS Enterprise.”
The computer chirped a warning. "USS Enterprise is at the extreme limit of subspace communications range. Signal quality may be compromised.”
“Proceed.”
The screen flickered, dissolving into static several times before Jack's face appeared, distorted and grainy. His blue eyes, so like his mother's, widened as he saw his caller.
“Jean-Luc? Is everything ksssshhhh - kay?”
The use of his given name still caught him off-guard, though Jack had been using it with increasing frequency over the past few months. Progress, Deanna had called it, even if it wasn't yet “Dad,” or even the more formal “Father.”
“Jack, it’s good to see you. Everything is going well, I trust.”
“Everything ksssshhhh - ine.”
“Jack… I'm trying to locate your mother," Jean-Luc said, keeping his voice level. "Do you know where she is?"
Jack's eyes narrowed. The image pixelated, reformed. "Why? What shhhk wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong. I simply need to reach her, and she's not responding to my messages. I’m becoming a bit concerned."
“Mom can take care ksssshhhh -self,” came the faint, garbled reply. Jack's voice carried a slightly protective edge even now, and it hurt him more than he wanted to admit. “Why do you need bzzt find her?” The mismatch between the audio and video was worsening.
Jean-Luc felt his carefully maintained composure slip slightly. “Jack, I’ve contacted everyone I can think of. I've been trying to reach your mother for days. Her office said she's on leave... For a wedding.”
The static increased, but he thought he caught Jack's eyes narrow. “Where did you crackle that?”
“When I contacted Medical,” he answered evasively. He leaned forward, as if that might somehow improve the signal. “Jack, is she attending a wedding?”
The image dissolved into pure static for several seconds. When it reformed, Jack’s jaw was clenched. “I bzzt shouldn't shhhkk.” More static. “- get away crackle Caldos.”
“Caldos?” Jean-Luc's heart rate increased. “She's on Caldos?”
“kssshhhh Nana’s bzzt…”
Relief and confusion warred in Jean-Luc's chest. Of course she'd gone to Caldos for leave. It was her sanctuary, the place she'd always retreated when she needed space or solitude. But for a wedding?
“But for a wedding, Jack?” he asked, unable to keep the urgency from his voice. “Jack, is your mother getting -”
The signal degraded further still, Jack's face breaking apart into blocks of color. His voice came through in bursts. “- bzzt her wedding this weekend crackle… I couldn't make static… tell Mum -”
"Jack!" Jean-Luc stood and leaned over, as if proximity to the screen might help. “Jack, repeat that. Your mother's what?”
But the signal was gone, dissolved into complete static before cutting out entirely.
Jean-Luc stared at the blank screen, his mind racing.
“Computer, reestablish last communications link to the USS Enterprise.”
“Unable to comply. The USS Enterprise has moved out of communications range.”
He exhaled sharply.
Merde.
Her wedding this weekend... I couldn't make… Jack couldn't make it to his mother's wedding. That's what he'd heard. That's what Jack had said.
Number One whined at his feet, sensing his distress.
“Mon Dieu,” he breathed.
Jean-Luc sank into his chair, his hands trembling slightly as they gripped the armrests. Number One pressed against his leg, but he barely registered the dog’s presence.
Beverly was getting married. On Caldos. At her grandmother's cottage. And Jack couldn't attend because he was too far out in space, the Enterprise’s current mission taking him beyond reliable communications range.
The pieces fit together with terrible clarity. The extended leave. The gossip at Medical. Jack's reluctant confirmation. Even Beverly's distance over these many months made sense now. She'd been preparing, planning, moving forward with her life while Jean-Luc had been gathering the courage to ask her to look backward, to try again.
He'd waited too long.
Well, that’s just the story of my life, isn’t it? he thought bitterly.
“What right do I have?” he asked aloud, looking down at Number One. “She's happy. She's found someone. What right do I have to interfere?”
The dog tilted his head, as if genuinely considering the question.
Jean-Luc stood, pacing to the window once more. The vineyard lay in shadow now, only a thin rim of light left on the horizon. It felt like the end, of the day, of the season, of his hopes for him and Beverly…
Except.
Except he couldn't just let her go. Not without seeing her. Not without at least telling her what he'd spent so many months trying to work up the courage to say. He thought momentarily of calling her on Caldos but… The weekend was still two days away. Time enough to make it… He needed to see her and…
“She deserves to know,” he said quietly. “That I love her. Still. That I've always loved her, even when I was too much of a coward to show it properly. She deserves to make her choice knowing that.”
Number One's tail wagged slightly, encouragingly.
“And if she's truly happy, if this is what she wants, then…” He swallowed hard. "Then I'll wish her well and leave her in peace. But I have to tell her first. I have to try.”
He'd lost starships, faced the Borg, confronted death itself only to escape somehow. Surely he could face Beverly Crusher and tell her the truth.
“Computer,” he said, his voice now firm and decisive. “Contact Federation Transport Authority. I need immediate passage to Caldos.”