The BLTS Archive- Turning Back the Clock
by S. Faith (sandra.faith@gmail.com)

---

Published: 10-01-06 - Updated: 10-01-06

© 1/1999 - 2003, 2006

OMG, is this ever old. It's been sitting on my computer For. Freaking.
Ever, with no ending. So I finally found an ending for it (within the
last week or two) and thought I would post it. I hope it was worth
unearthing.

It's a bit out there in a Heinleinian way, and is Not For Children,
so, well, you have been warned. Also, when I recently re-watched this
movie, one line of dialogue spoken by Anij effectively destroys my
little premise, so. . .  I'm going to pretend she didn't say it. 
Nyah.

---

This was madness. Sheer stupidity. And Picard knew it.

Yet it had not stopped him from arranging for the time off, packing,
booking passage via other starships to take him back to the Baku
homeworld, and getting on the shuttle three days ago.

Picard shifted in his chair at the desk in his quarters and tried to
get comfortable. He'd intended on getting some sleep on this last leg
of the trip, but found that his stomach (performing ridiculously
unwelcome acrobatics) forbade such a concept. He tried to find meaning
in the stars passing by his cabin window, but they just kept gliding
right on by, silently mocking him. The book before him offered little
comfort, either, for he had read the same paragraph at least ten times
without comprehending it.

His mind was only on the woman at the end of this journey. And that's
where the stupidity began and ended. This was a woman he'd spent less
than three days with, and now he was going to spend several weeks with
her for his shore leave? He was acting like a hormone-addled teenager.

How had he come to this? There was no way he could continue to blame
the metaphasic energy emanating from the rings of the Baku homeworld,
for it had been several months since the run-in with the Son'a had
happened. With the little time he'd spent there, he'd noticed the
beneficial effects almost immediately: it had taken years off of his
appearance, and had actually begun to notice his scalp generating hair
where there'd been none since early in his career (which he continued
to shave smooth). At the same time both a blessing and a curse had
occurred: he could not remember when he had felt so virile, though
he'd done his best to quell those particular impulses; after all, they
were just a result of the metaphasic exposure. It would have been
foolish to let irrational longings wrest control of logic and reason,
especially after the mission ended and they had returned to the
Enterprise. It had occurred to him that perhaps even now he was still
under the influence of that revitalized libido, but he thought not. He
had felt perfectly normal for a while now.

Since Beverly had gone.

It had been awfully difficult to spend any appreciable time alone with
Beverly thanks to this newfound vigor, and that had put a terrible
strain on their relationship. With monk-like asceticism he had taken
to spending off-duty hours deep in meditation, alone in his quarters.
Merely two weeks after the Son'a/Baku incident, she had unexpectedly
requested an 'extended personal leave'. He'd had to consider allowing
her to go away believing that he was pining over another woman (only
partially true), but compared to removing the source of his constant,
unceasing distraction, he decided it was in everyone's best interest
to grant her permission to leave (although Deanna Troi had certainly
had other ideas regarding the situation, ones he felt were unbecoming
two Starfleet officers of their rank). Beverly mentioned something
about rendezvousing with her son on Luna during their final, all too
terse conversation, during which he'd done not much more than nod and
think about domjott. It was the last he'd spoken to her in all that
time. Her departure had saved his skin, metaphorically speaking. But
it had also left so much up in the air. . . .

Still in full denial that the doctor was the reason for his doubts
about this trip, he forced his thoughts to other matters; namely,
diplomatic relations with the Baku. Due to his unfailing concern for
the people and their planet, Picard had kept a watchful eye on any
policy or decision that Starfleet made regarding the Baku homeworld.
Starfleet, probably in an attempt to distance itself from their
exposed collaboration with the Son'a, had immediately pledged
protection against any future attempts to disrupt the metaphasic
energies that the rings produced or to remove the Baku from their
home. The Baku had agreed to Starfleet's protection in the form of
patrols and a base on the planet, provided that Starfleet kept out of
their daily lives and kept their patrol base far enough away from
their settlement. Yes, the Baku knew what machines were and how they
worked, but they did not want to have to look at them. Especially
machines of destruction.

At the same time, Starfleet had also been successful in keeping a lid
on the 'fountain of youth' there; they merely cited that the Baku were
pacifists who had no defense of their own and, due to increased
interest in that area of space, could no longer remain defenseless.
Had word of it gotten out, the planet undoubtedly would have become a
Mecca for those seeking immortality and the Baku would have had no
peace. The population of six hundred would have skyrocketed to six
million or even six billion, and he didn't even want to think about
the political power struggle over that small chunk of rock. He did not
know what the patrols thought they might have been protecting, but of
all of the guesses he'd heard through the grapevine, a fountain of
youth was not one that had ever come up. For that he was glad. He
wondered briefly if he'd have to suggest they institute a maximum tour
of duty at the base, or else the truth would get out. He was also
beginning to wonder if a six week stay – the length of his leave – was
such a very good idea.

His contact with Anij after the incident had been infrequent at best,
and what she did send was mostly of an impersonal nature, aside from
the invitation. From her correspondence, he learned that the Baku had
apparently welcomed the Son'a back with open arms, and it was she that
had facilitated finding shelter for the refugees and getting them
reintegrated into their community. He was happy to hear this, though
not surprised; they did not seem like the type of people who held onto
old grievances.

Presently, he felt a subtle shift in the deck that indicated the
engines dropping out of warp space, one of those sensitivities gained
only from long service aboard starships. As the streaks outside the
windows coalesced into coherent points of starlight once more, his
comm badge chirped and the captain of the vessel alerted him that they
would be dropping into orbit soon. He knew they would not be there
long – just long enough to change the patrol staff – so he thanked the
captain for his passage, replied that he would report to the
transporter room at once, and immediately began collecting his things.

Picard barely remembered the walk down to the transporter room or the
transport sequence itself; the next thing he knew he was looking in to
the warm, smiling eyes of Anij. "Welcome back, Jean-Luc." She hadn't
changed; then again, she probably hadn't changed much in three hundred
years.

He reached to embrace her. "It's very good to see you again," he said
softly.

She pulled back. "Come, you must be hungry. I've got some stew on and
a freshly baked loaf of bread all ready for you. Trust you've had a
good journey?" She took his hand and led him towards her cottage,
though she needn't have bothered. He had not forgotten the layout of
this village one bit.

In the dusky light of evening, the face of the occasional passer-by
lit with recognition as he passed through the village square. He
smiled and nodded genially; he did not remember names, much to his
chagrin. His mind had been far too occupied with one particular woman.
There would be time for reintroductions later.

---

The night air was distinctly cool; the mug of tea in his hand felt
warm and comforting. Bathed in amber light from the various candle
lamps around the kitchen, he felt happy, relaxed, and secure. It was
long past sunset. The others had eaten hours before and most of them,
needing to be up at dawn, had long since retired to their rooms. Anij
handed him a plate of confections, which he accepted gratefully.
"Delicious, Anij. Thank you. You are every bit as gracious as I
remember."

Taking her seat across from him at the table, she smiled, replying
softly, "Perhaps your memory is failing, then. Do you not remember the
loud, stubborn woman fighting to protect her village?"

He laughed and relaxed back into his chair, nibbling on what tasted
very much like a shortbread cookie. "Perhaps it is. I believe being
here will be just what I need. . .  a most satisfying vacation." Had
he really just said that? 'Satisfying vacation' from the mouth of
Jean-Luc Picard? Perhaps the metaphasic energy was already interfering
with his brain cells. "Great vistas, good people, charming hostess.
How can I possibly go wrong?"

She laughed, and it felt good to hear it. Anij reached to stretch her
arms over her head, the universal sign for weariness. He could barely
take his eyes off of her; now he knew that those energies were kicking
him into overdrive. "I know you've only been here long enough to eat,
but I can really feel the toll the day's taken on me. I think I'd like
to turn in. Do you mind?"

His heart leapt into his throat and the phrase 'schoolboy jitters'
flitted through his head. "No, I wouldn't mind at all."

She smiled broadly, standing up and reaching for the empty plates.
"Great. I know Marta will appreciate me joining her early."

Of all the names he'd encountered in her sporadic correspondence, this
was not one he was familiar with. He wrinkled his brow and asked,
"Marta?"

"Yes, of course, Marta." She stopped in mid-course to look at him.
"Oh, Jean-Luc, did I really never mention her?"

He tried to act cool about it, but failed miserably. "I don't believe
so. Who is she?"

"I know Terrans have equivalent terms to what she means to me. . . ."
She stopped to think of the word, continuing to the sink; all the
while, Jean-Luc prepared for the figurative dagger poised above his
heart to plunge inward. Finally, she said, "Partner? Significant
other? Spouse? Who is, by the way, eternally in your debt for saving—"

She then noticed the change in his expression and stopped short. Even
prepared for the disappointment, Picard was not able to hide his
confusion and surprise. He looked crestfallen. Had it never come up
that she was married? Perhaps it had, but was it possible he'd been
that blinded by hormones? He felt the utter fool, and now he had six
weeks to live with his embarrassment.

Anij sat again, reaching for his hand, which she held gently between
two of hers. "Perhaps that is one aspect of Baku culture that hasn't
yet made it into the Federation's research." She paused a moment to
think, looking downward, her chestnut hair brushing along her cheek.
"Since before we arrived here on this planet, the Baku culture has
been polyamorous. After we got here, we began living so much longer,
and it made so much more sense."

She raised her gaze to meet his eyes, and looked deeply sorry. "The
dy'noj'a – or. . .  I think the word is marriages? But it also refers
to the partners – formed are for life, after getting to know one
another after a period of. . .  well, it used to be months, but with
the lengthening of our lifespans, it has turned into years, even
decades – they are not something entered into lightly. I currently
have three dy'noj; two male and one female. I have been with Kurt for
ninety-five years; Erlo for sixty; and Marta for only fifteen. I have
had as many as four partners at once. . . " She stopped, and a brief,
bittersweet smile settled on her lips, the fond remembrance of dy'noj
passed on. When she spoke again it was with a catch in her throat.
"Erlo himself has three dy'noj; Kurt, only one other. It can be very
dynamic – for example, it is entirely possible to share a dy'noj with
your best friend or your own sister. It helps keep genetic diversity
up, stress levels down – and by devoting so much time to really
knowing your dy'noj, stability within families is very strong."

She paused, and when she spoke again her voice became even gentler.
"But here I am, going on and on, giving you an anthropology lesson
when I've just handed you a grave disappointment."

He looked away and found it impossible to keep a hold on her gaze. He
was as transparent as glass and with the way she spoke it sounded like
casual relations were unheard of in her culture. He wished she would
not speak the words forming on her tongue, but he heard them
nonetheless. "It would seem that you were under the impression that
you were coming here to be with me. For that I am sorry."

"It was very stupid of me to make any assumptions." His voice was very
quiet. His mind at once began racing to come up with alternatives for
him to spend his shore leave, for he was sure that this discomfiture
would be almost more than he could bear for the remainder of his time
here.

"It is not your fault that you saw what appeared to be there. You did
not know of our ways and it is my fault for failing to enlighten you
before your journey here." She waited for him to raise his eyes to
look at her before she continued. "You have a kind soul, Jean-Luc. If
you were Baku, and could devote the time needed for me to get to know
you, I think you would make an excellent dy'noj." She smiled. "I hope
that is of some comfort to hear."

"It is, Anij." Feeling somewhat less mortified after her face-saving
gesture, he summoned all of the good spirit he could muster and
smiled. "I will admit though, it is going to be a long six weeks." He
was thinking less of his embarrassment now, and more of his libido,
which was feeling somewhat normal. . .  for the moment.

She patted the back of his hand and without words she indicated she'd
show him to his room. They rose and she led him upstairs to the room
that he would call his for the duration, where one of the others had
already deposited his bags. Taking both of his hands, she said, "I
will be staying at Marta's next door, though I shall be back by
morning to help prepare breakfast. If you need anything, you know
where it is." He nodded, and she made to leave. Before she reached the
door, she turned to say with a grin, "I look forward to your help
milking the cows."

---

As he closed the door, Anij's cheery smile fell imperceptibly, and she
descended the staircase, slipping past Kyr tending the fire and Erlo
sleeping on the easy chair, book across his chest. She smiled briefly,
kissing the top of his head. He stirred and looked up blearily. "Is
our guest all settled in then?" he asked sleepily. She nodded.

"If you please though," she whispered, "not a word, nothing. What I've
heard so far, I've got some work to do before he's ready."

He smiled and nodded. "See you in the morning then."

"Okay."

She was not two steps out the door when she met another coming up on
the path to the house, who seemed about to speak. Anij drew her finger
over her lips and shhhed, pulling her friend towards her own
destination.

"What is it?"

"Nothing, nothing," replied Anij, glancing up to the second story
window, the room she'd just left her guest in.

"You said we could talk when I got back. . .  and I really need to
talk. I swear, I heard his voice tonight, Anij. . . "

Anij sighed, feeling a little not unlike Jean-Luc's own Counselor
Troi, and placed an arm around the sagging shoulders. "Come with me.
We can talk at Marta's."

---

Picard was in San Francisco, although it was much less crowded than he
was used to seeing. The fog had not quite lifted yet, throwing the
entirety of Market Street in a hazy glow. He noticed a familiar figure
up ahead: it was Beverly, and she was dressed in her surgeon's outfit
of bright red, hood in place. He tried to discern what she was doing,
and could not understand why she would be roaming the streets of San
Francisco with her tricorder in one hand and a laser scalpel in the
other. As he got closer, he realized she was offering to heal anyone
in need of it. Passers-by steered clear of her path, ignoring her
despite repeated pleas, which upset and infuriated her. Her face was
almost as ruddy as the outfit she wore, her face was streaked with
tears, and tufts of hair had begun peeking messily through the cowl of
the hood. He tried to comfort her but of all the people passing by
her, he was the one person she couldn't see or hear.

That's when she pointed the tricorder at herself, and upon seeing the
display, looked surprised and even shocked. Then, as if divinely
inspired by a truth she had not seen before that moment, she turned
the laser on herself, and as the beam struck her skin, she exploded
and shattered into a million flecks of gold.

---

Picard's eyes opened, and for the moment he was still bathed in chills
from the dream he'd just had. The only reason he could think that he
should dream about Beverly was the thought of her during the voyage
yesterday, but its meaning was impossible to divine.

He found he could not easily move, and realized he was trembling. What
about that dream had scared him so? Seeing her so upset or watching
her dissolve to nothingness before his eyes?

There was a quiet knock on his door; he fought back instinct and
instead asked for a moment. Through the window he could discern first
light. He hoped he hadn't called out in his sleep and woken anyone up.
He pulled on his trousers and a sweater, and opened his door to see
Anij. He didn't know if he was more surprised to see her back so early
in the morning, or the fact that she looked a little less than well
rested, emphasized by her hair being held away from her face by a
kerchief. "Good morning," she said, the light tone in her voice at
odds with her weary eyes.

He felt compelled to ask, "Everything all right?"

As if surprised to hear that he had noticed, she responded with,
"Sure, just had a little trouble sleeping. Up too late for my own
good. And yourself?"

He fought the impulse to imagine why, and instead replied, "Had a
strange dream, but otherwise, all right."

"You look a little more like you've seen a ghost."

He smiled, almost laughing, not really answering, for he didn't know
quite what to say. They left the small house and headed to where the
animals were kept. She picked up a pail and a stool, and handed it to
him. He took them, gulping audibly. He hadn't milked anything since
he'd lived on the family farm as a boy – and he really hadn't thought
her comment serious!

He took a seat on the rickety three-legged stool, placed the pail
beneath the cow's bloated udder, and began pulling at the teats.
Sitting beside him on a stool of her own, Anij asked gently, "Do you
want to talk about it?"

His response was barely audible. "It's a very long story, Anij, and I
don't know where I could even possibly begin."

"Jean-Luc, you're forgetting where you are. I have all the time in the
world. Talk to me."

He looked up to her and saw the wisdom sparkling in her eyes.

"To understand the extent to which this dream bothered me," he began
softly, "you must understand the woman this dream was about, and our
history together."

Picard began to speak, milking mindlessly all the while, about the
red-haired woman who had been a near constant in his life from the
moment he'd met her. At first she was just a young student at the
Academy who'd caught his best friend's eye, eventually becoming an
integral part of their group of friends: Jean-Luc, Jack, Walker and
Beverly. As he sat back and watched her fall deeper in love with and
then marry and bear a child for his best friend, a man who was also
his subordinate on board the Stargazer, Picard had kept his own
silence, never letting on that he harbored feelings of his own towards
Beverly.

And then, Jack's death, which was difficult on him twofold, not just
because he lost his best friend, but the doubts he'd raised about his
own ability to make command decisions when swayed by emotions. He
second-guessed the decisions he'd made that led to Jack's death, and
vowed to remove emotion from the equation as much as possible from all
future directives. That meant purposely (and with much difficulty)
distancing himself from Beverly at a time when they should have shared
their deeply connected pain, and would have shared it under any other
circumstances. Months stretched to years with very little contact, and
that trend had continued until he'd requested her as Chief Medical
Officer aboard the Enterprise D. He spoke fondly of their ongoing
service together, and how their friendship had deepened into what they
had at present. It was comfortable, but, he reluctantly admitted, a
touch stagnant. He went into fairly detailed description regarding
what had happened – or had not happened – romantically between them
during the course of their long and winding relationship. He confided
to Anij their various awkward moments alone together; Anij did not
seem to dare blink when he told her of the Kesprytt incident. He
explained how she'd left for her own shore leave so many weeks
previously with nary a word since, and how much he feared he would not
see her again.

Then he told Anij of the dream he'd had the night before, how the
image of Beverly shattering into a burst of gold had been one of the
most haunting he'd ever seen. From the look on her face, it seemed
that Anij understood why he felt that way.

Finally at the end of it all, he sighed, looking down to a very full
pail, and feeling as if he had just had a great weight lifted from his
chest. Indeed, it must have been obvious, because she said, "You
carried that burden for long enough. I'm glad to have taken it from
your shoulders."

She stood from her seat and paced, petting the cow's muzzle, seeming
to cogitate on what he had said. "I don't get it," she began
tentatively. "I know that Baku longevity is artificially induced, yet
the three hundred years I have lived are real enough. So are the
experiences. And even with the benefit of that knowledge, I fail to
truly understand a story like yours."

He furrowed his brows. "I'm not sure I know where you're going with
this."

"Human lifespans have been extended greater than one hundred years in
this day and age, but still, you will eventually break down and die.
Forgive my bluntness, but at this stage of life, you have more days
behind than you will have before you. So what I fail to understand is
why you do not accept what is obviously so."

He waited for the other shoe to drop.

"Beverly is meant to be."

"'Meant to be' what?"

Anij laughed delicately. "Jean-Luc, sometimes I fear you would not
recognize your own nose apart from your face. That you do not
acknowledge the love you have for her would be frightening if I didn't
know you to be the kind and gentle man that you are."

He did not know what to say.

She offered him a cockeyed grin. "I have not know you for long, but I
do not believe I have ever seen you speechless before."

At once he rushed to offer an explanation. "She knows that I love her.
She has for years."

"Yet you do nothing about it? I do not believe you to be a fool,
Jean-Luc Picard, so then could it only perhaps be... cowardice?"

"That's not fair." Now Picard got angry. "You have no idea what it's
like to invest so much of yourself into something that might be ended
by something as routine as an away team mission!"

Anij refused to rise to his challenge, remaining calm and serene.
"Don't I? You don't think in three hundred years I have not been hurt
by lost love? Shall I tell you about Bertu, who perished when he lost
his footing on the edge of a cliff during a search for a lost goat? Or
about Padma, who died during Kyr's birth? Did my love for them mean I
had to stop living?"

He was immediately regretful for his words. "Anij, I shouldn't have. .
. "

She waved her hand. "It's all right. We all speak without the benefit
of thinking first. I know that you are sorry. I can see it on your
face." She took his hand to reinforce that she was indeed not angry
with him. "Just answer me this question: What is it about me that you
are attracted to? Think about it. We will speak of this again later.
For now, I must finish preparing the morning meal."

She stood, taking the pail from the ground, and headed for the house.
He merely sat where he was, too stunned to speak. Sometimes he
wondered if the Baku weren't telepathic, because Anij seemed to know
that every woman he'd been attracted to in the last twenty years
possessed pale imitations of those qualities he loved best in Beverly.
Stubborn? Strong-willed? In spades. Graceful? Willowy? Watching that
woman move, even during medical maneuvers, had always been like
watching a dancer on stage. Intelligent? Persuasive? Secretly Picard
had believed for years that her intelligence far surpassed his own.

Damn. Why did it always take outside light to illuminate the most
obvious things?

He stood to head back for the house, brushing the hay from his slacks,
ready to give Anij his answer and offer more humble apologies. . . 
and thanks.

He tromped back into the house with those very words poised on lips,
but as he swung open the kitchen door, he very literally was struck
dumb, for either he was dreaming again, or hallucinating, or had
somehow traveled backwards in time. That would be the only way to
explain what he was seeing there in the sun-bathed kitchen.

"Beverly?"

It was barely a whisper that she shouldn't even have even heard. But
she had. She glanced up at him, very real, and also very surprised. He
didn't know what stunned him more: the fact that she was there, or the
way she looked.

Beverly had always been a beautiful woman, and that beauty had not
faded as she grew older. But it looked to Picard as if the years had
fallen away and left behind a younger version of the woman he'd seen a
little over two months ago. Her face was now smooth and nearly
unlined, creamy pale, yet radiant. Her hair had grown almost a
half-meter since he'd seen her last, and those vibrant red tresses
were drawn into a thick plait that curled softly at the end. Her
figure appeared unchanged as far as he could tell through her loose
cotton dress; she had always remained fit and trim, yet he could only
imagine that the rest of her too must have been restored to a more
youthful perfection. The end result left her looking very much like
she had around the time Wesley had been born.

She'd paused what she was doing (making pastries, apparently); now she
smiled. Smiled broadly. "Oh my. . .  Jean-Luc! What are you doing
here?"

"Shore leave." He had a million questions, like how had she come to be
there. Wasn't she supposed to be on Luna? He tried very hard to keep
his tone neutral.

She ran to him, and threw her arms around him, undoubtedly getting
flour on his back. "What a pleasant surprise!"

Considering the uncertain terms on which they had parted, her smile,
and now her enthusiastic reaction, was somewhat unexpected. "You can
say that after the way I behaved towards you before you left?"

She rounded the table, and went back to finishing her pastries. "Come
on. It dawned on me as soon as we got back what was wrong with you.
Commander Riker was experiencing the same thing. Besides, I learned
long ago not to take it personally when you have feelings you can't
handle." She laughed, digging her hand into a bag of powdered sugar
and sprinkling the baked things with it. "Sometimes I think you wish
you could just cut it off—" Her free hand flew to cover her mouth in
horror. "Oh, Jean-Luc– I can't believe I just said that. I think that
along with the rejuvenating properties to the body, this metaphasic
energy has eroded my internal editor. I do apologize."

To her amazement, Picard began to laugh, lightened by the knowledge
that she was not harboring ill will after their last ordeal here.
"There is no need to, Beverly. I have, in fact, missed it terribly."
She seemed relieved, and brushed her hands together briskly, sending
powdered sugar into the air, creating an almost magical glow around
her as sunlight struck the tiny dust-like particles. And of course
there was Beverly, grinning impishly with a smudge of powdered sugar
on her chin, looking adorable, beautiful and sexy all at once.

She raised the tray of pastries and indicated a second on the prep
table. "Come on, you. Help me carry the houta to the breakfast table."

He did as instructed and followed her to the common eating area.

Upon arriving, he saw among the sea of faces Anij's own and also saw
the unmistakable smirk playing upon her lips, which only confirmed
what he'd begun to suspect: that she had known all the while, that she
had deliberately set him up to come face to face with the woman he'd
only just poured his heart out about to her. Conspirator! Not that he
was upset. He was so pleased at seeing Beverly again after his
personal epiphany, that he wanted to instead thank Anij. The question
was, did Beverly know he was here? She'd seemed genuinely surprised,
so he thought not. But he wanted to ask anyhow.

A short while into the beginning of the meal, Picard turned to Beverly
and asked her those things he had been wondering. She smiled demurely,
setting her teacup down on the wooden table. "I knew it was likely you
would take your leave here, but I had no idea that you were actually
here."

Anij interjected, "He seemed yesterday to be quite looking forward to
his vacation here."

Her reaction was quite similar to what he imagined it might be: eyes
wide, mouth slightly agape. "I didn't think Jean-Luc Picard ever
looked forward to a vacation. This place must be very special."

Hoping to change the subject, and to cover up his embarrassment, he
said, "You didn't answer my question. What about Luna?"

She smiled. "I met Wes as planned, but he saw that I was not happy
bouncing around my flat there like a pea in a coffee can. I told him
about this place and he was fascinated." He idly wondered what she'd
told him; he thought perhaps he saw a fleeting sadness in her eyes. "I
guess I needed to get away from technology and just be one with the
land and the people, and somehow, he knew. So you got here last
night?"

He nodded, realizing he wasn't the only one good at changing the
subject. But for the time being he let it go.

"Hmm." She chomped into another pastry. "Guess you haven't had any
time for exploration. You have to let me take you to the spot they
call Eternity Point. So incredibly beautiful!"

He smiled, then chuckled, and finally could not contain his laughter.
She looked to him with questioning eyes, and for a moment, he almost
expected a show of the old fireworks he had come to know so well. He
explained, "I haven't seen you so. . .  energetic since your Academy
days."

"Amazing what this place does for you," she replied.

"I can only just begin to imagine."

Anij cleared her throat. "I see that Kurt needs me. If you'll excuse
me. . . "

They both nodded and Anij left their table. Picard thought it seemed a
little too conveniently timed, but he didn't care. The carefree aura
surrounding Beverly was infectious and he realized all of a sudden
that he missed being around her. He especially wanted to be with
Beverly alone; it seemed urgent that he should disclose his
revelations of just a short while ago.

Finishing up his breakfast, Picard wiped the corners of his mouth, and
asked, "About this Eternity Point. . . ?"

She smiled again, a bright smile of infinite happiness. "We can go as
soon as you want."

"Let's go now." He wondered why she looked so surprised, but didn't
care, as long as she consented to go with him. They walked together
towards where Anij was speaking with who must have been Kurt, a very
handsome, dark-haired tower of a man. Kurt's eyes crinkled with his
smile as he indicated to Anij that they had company approaching.

"We're going for a hike," said Jean-Luc, simply out of consideration
for his hostess.

Oddly, though, Anij looked to Beverly. "So soon after breakfast?"

Beverly nodded.

"We'll miss you at lunch. Come, I'll pack you a satchel."

The two women walked towards Anij's home, leaving Picard alone with
Anij's partner of so many years. He barely knew what to say to the
man. Kurt looked at him genially and asked, breaking the ice, "So you
are Beverly's dy'noj?"

Picard laughed lightly. "Well, not really, but the amount of time we
have known each other would certainly qualify us to be."

"But you are the one Anij said Beverly spoke of. Jean-Luc, right?"

He nodded, suddenly curious about how much else Beverly had said about
him. "And you are Kurt. It is a pleasure to meet you." He extended his
hand and fortunately, the handshake seemed to be something Kurt was
familiar with. Not surprisingly, Kurt had a firm, strong grip.

Kurt's green eyes glittered as he spoke. "Anij is certainly happy to
have Beverly's friendship. In the weeks Beverly has been with us, they
have become very close. At the same time Anij has been very happy to
learn more about you through her, for she is very fond of you. Has
Anij mentioned our approval?"

Bewildered, Picard responded vaguely, "I don't think she has."

Kurt smiled, his angular face widening. "Ah. Well, you will be pleased
to know that you've got it. Though I'm surprised that she didn't say
so and stay with you last night."

Now he was really confused, but the return of the women prevented
further elaboration. His afternoon companion said with a grin, "We're
all set; let's go."

---

The walk through the coniferous forest ordinarily would have been one
of wonder and awe for Picard. He had not seen trees so enormous since
traversing through the ancient redwoods in Sonoma back on Earth. There
was, however, the comment of Kurt's that he could not get out of his
head. Approval? For what? It sounded very much like some kind of
permission for an intimate liaison had been granted, but that made
absolutely no sense given what Anij had told him the night before.
She'd made it abundantly clear that recreational sex was frowned upon
— or at least he thought she had. So what on earth had Kurt been
talking about?

"Jean-Luc, hold on."

Beverly's voice cut through his reverie and he turned to notice she
had sat back against a rock.

"Sorry. Didn't realize you'd stopped."

She held out one hand. "Water bottle, please?"

He took a seat beside her, dug into the satchel for the water bottle,
and gave it to her. She gulped down a thirsty swig, then handed it
back. "Thanks."

He nodded, taking a drink too. "We almost there?"

"Almost."

Some minutes of silence must have passed, and the preoccupation with
this enigma must have been evident on his face, for she asked, "Penny
for your thoughts?"

He shook his head, trying to make light of it. "Nothing. Just an odd
thing Kurt said to me about having their 'approval' — but for what I
can't possibly guess."

Beverly smiled, though she looked distinctly uncomfortable. "An honor,
undoubtedly. You've got Kurt's, Marta's, and Erlo's consent to. . . 
well. . .  sleep with Anij should you choose to."

He did not know what to say. Logic kicked into overdrive and he
attempted to puzzle out why Anij would lead him to believe that a
physical intimacy was not possible, yet all the while, her own
partners had granted permission for just such a thing, and she full
well knew it. Therefore, she had deliberately not told him of that
part of the dy'noj'a dynamic.

Why?

There could only be one reason, and Anij's voice echoed in his ear:

"Beverly is meant to be."

He could only manage aloud a lame "Oh."

She stood and slipped the satchel onto her shoulder. He could tell
there was a question on the tip of her tongue, but she dared not ask
it: so will you share her bed? He could have ended her strife right
there with a simple statement, that he might have accepted such an
offer yesterday — but not now.

She, however, had deemed the conversation over by walking away. He
followed her and tried to keep pace with her. However, it seemed as if
she purposely kept walking a little bit faster, keeping just one step
ahead of him. It took great effort to keep up with her. Finally, after
many silent minutes and gulped-down breaths trying to match her pace,
he called out to her, "Beverly!"

She stopped.

"Have mercy on an old man's legs!" he exclaimed. "Is there something
wrong?"

She laughed and the mirth on her face might have fooled anyone who
knew her casually, but did not fool him.

"Nothing at all. Just the home stretch. Anxious to get there. In fact,
it's just through those trees."

She gestured forward, indicating that he should walk through first,
which he did. He gasped when he saw the vista before him: a
panoramically awe-inspiring view of the landscape from a vantage point
far, far above it. He hadn't even realized they had been ascending
during their walk, but here they were, in this clearing a safe
distance from the edge of the cliff proper. Mountains, sky, trees,
such glorious vastness and beauty – no wonder they called it Eternity
Point. It was breathtaking.

"Great, isn't it?" she said, taking a place beside him. "Makes one
feel rather small and insignificant."

He looked over to her, her face aglow with sunshine, her eyes closed,
and a smile on her pretty mouth, and he felt he could no longer hold
back those things he'd wanted to share with her since the epiphany
he'd had that morning.

"Beverly."

She opened her eyes and looked to him.

He then found he did not know the words to say.

"Yes?" she asked.

His tongue felt rather like it had lost all will to move. How could he
say all that he wanted to say so that it didn't sound trite or
insincere? Finally he simply said: "I love you."

She smiled again and said only matter-of-factly, "I know." She closed
her eyes and raised her face to the sun again, stretching her arms to
her sides as if she could collect the sun's warmth.

"No, no, I mean I love you."

"Yes, Jean-Luc, I know." She did not even bother to open her eyes, but
the smile did not leave her face.

How maddening! How anti-climactic! She was not going to make this easy
for him.

Finally, he reached out for her hand and grasped it, tugging her
quickly towards him, startling the breath out of her. Wrapping one arm
about her waist, he said, "I mean, I love you." And he kissed her,
savoring the feel of her mouth on his, completely encircling her with
his arms.

He pulled back; she looked confused.

"I think I get it now. I think."

He drew a finger along her cheekbone.

"But I thought you came here for Anij."

"Originally, I did." His voice was tender. "She however had the sense
to make me question what it was about her that I was attracted to. I
realized it was those things that reminded me most of you."

She smiled. At first it was a sweet, pretty, demure smile. Before he
could blink it became a mischievous grin.

And before he could blink again he felt himself being pushed back by
the shoulders, and suddenly, the world was moving backwards until he
hit the ground in a pile of arms and legs.

He was still contemplating the damage to his backside when he realized
that Beverly had moved with him so that her lovely face was hovering
closely over his, her hair cascading down. She maneuvered on top of
him, kissing him full on the mouth. He instinctively returned the
embrace, holding her against him, savoring the feel of her lips on
his, the weight of her body atop his.

"I can't tell you how long I have wanted this to happen."

He wondered whether she meant his admission, or this impromptu
liaison.

She then whispered huskily in his ear, "So you'll forgive me if I
suddenly I have this overwhelming desire to make up for lost time."

All was clear now.

The reality of having her like this hit home all at once, and the
impulse to make love to her overtook all sensibility. He felt his
hands, quite of their own accord, slide under the hem of her cotton
shift, brush up along the backs of her legs to her hips, tracing a
lazy circle on her buttocks (no underclothes, he noted), and then
brush against the sensitive skin where her legs and buttocks met. He
heard a moan low in her throat, as she shifted her body into his
caress.

"Would it be gratuitous of me to say that I wanted you, Beverly?" he
said, his voice surprisingly gravelly.

"Uh-huh," she managed, dropping one knee to either side of his body so
that his fingers might continue stroking against an even more
sensitive area of skin. "So let's do it."

He paused for a moment. "Right here, in the open field?"

"I'm certainly not talking about back in your bedroom."

He knew that tone. She meant business.

She pulled him so that he was sitting up, and she straddled his lap,
pulling her dress further up. She teased him mercilessly with her
tongue and teeth, running her hands over as much of his body as she
could reach. She could not have failed to notice his own desire. She
fell backwards, pulling him with her.

He felt as if he had no say in the matter, really, but was so lost in
the moment that he didn't much care. To describe her arousal as
frenetic would have been an understatement of a global nature, judging
from the urgency with which she was proceeding. Her fevered lust had
washed over him and he matched her every movement to the best of his
ability. She bucked beneath him, biting her lower lip, muttering
something vaguely vulgar suggesting she wanted more. He wasn't about
to be asked twice and wasted no time. As he did, she arched up against
him impossibly, crying out so loudly that he was sure it would echo
through the valley.

Both of them at this point were bathed in sweat; Picard could feel his
passion building more quickly than ever. Frantic thrusts were met with
excited moans; she directed them yet again by rolling them over onto
his back. She then used gravity to her advantage, moving herself up
and down with her well-muscled (and yes, taut) body. Within moments
she tossed her head and arched backwards, coming with an explosive
force and a cry that made the others seem like mere whispers. Her
ecstasy only triggered his release as he continued thrusting up into
her, hands on her hips to keep their bodies joined, sustaining both of
their orgasms for what felt like an eternity – in fact, Picard
wondered if he might have even inadvertently invoked the time-slowing
sensation that Anij had showed him.

Eventually they fell back to the grass, exhausted; as they lay there
together, suffusing the coolness of the grass into their bodies, he
thought lazily about how he'd always imagined his first time with her
to be slow, patient, and somewhat romantic, not frenzied and raging as
it had been, like two desperate kids. Not that he was complaining; his
head still swam with the effects and he was loathe to move. He
couldn't remember the last time he'd had sex that good. He did manage
to look over to where she lay next to him; her eyes were closed and
she was taking deep, controlled breaths. She looked so peaceful that
he wondered if she hadn't fallen to sleep. But she must have sensed
him looking at her, for she opened her eyes and offered him a crooked
smile, before sitting up on one elbow and reaching out with her free
hand.

His eyes widened when he realized what she was doing. He was barely
recovered from their first tumble in the grass, and she was ready for
round two.

It should have occurred to him that her appearance was not the only
thing about her that had been restored to a youthful vigor.

---

"I'm sorry, Jean-Luc."

It must have been the twentieth time she'd said that since they had
begun walking back to the village. It was twilight and they were
nearly home. Picard had his arm around Beverly's waist, and it must
have looked a pathetic sight, the way he leaned so much on her for
support.

He was quite literally having problems walking.

"Stop apologizing."

"If I only had my medical equipment. . . "

He stopped walking altogether, turned to look at her, and fixed her
with the most menacing gaze he could muster in his pitiful state.
"Beverly," he began in a rough whisper. "If this is the price I have
to pay for that afternoon out on the plain, I have gotten the bargain
of the century. Now stop apologizing."

In her own way, she looked chastened. But she could not help adding,
"Give yourself six days and something like this afternoon shouldn't be
a problem any more."

She swore that he actually blushed.

They entered the village and made immediately for Anij's house. Anij
was tending to a swath of night blooming flowers that had just begun
to open, and when she heard footfalls on the road, she turned and saw
Picard limping. She gasped. "Are you all right?"

He nodded, passing his hostess by with much creaking and groaning and,
after entering the house, he sat in an overstuffed chair. "Hot bath
would be nice."

"Say no more." Anij headed towards the rear of the house — but not
before turning and throwing a mad grin at Beverly.

---

Morning came all too soon, and as the first rays of the day came
streaming in Picard was almost afraid to move. The hot bath had been a
gift from the heavens, a wonderful mineral salt concoction that made
him forget he even had muscles. But now, he was certain that those
muscles would strain to be heard.

He sighed. Eventually, he would have to move. There was no getting
around it.

He heard the faint creaking of the bedroom door. His hand shot out
(hm, he thought, didn't hurt much at all) and found the bed beside him
empty. He remembered fondly the tender ministrations of the previous
evening, and the satisfaction of curling up to sleep with the woman he
had loved for so long.

Slowly, almost shyly, a pair of luminous blue eyes peeked around the
corner. It was of course Beverly's lovely face, and when she confirmed
that he was awake, she smiled at him.

"Morning."

He smiled gingerly, certain that that would have hurt as well.

"Tea?" he began.

She must have been experiencing a psychic kind of morning, and came
into the room with a tray holding a Japanese tea pot and two small tea
cups. "Earl Grey, hot," she finished tenderly, setting the tray down
on the bedside table, closing the door behind her, and sitting on the
bed beside him, clad in a simple cotton shift. He idly wondered how
long she'd been awake. She ran her fingers along his cheek, to rest on
his shoulder, asking, "How are you feeling?"

He smiled, closing his eyes briefly. "Well, I suppose my muscles would
rebel against me if I tried to get up. Other than that. . . "

He saw the fleeting worry on her face, and asked, "Hey, what's wrong?"
He pushed himself up onto his elbows, involuntarily cringing with the
ache.

"Wrong?" She laughed lightly. "Nothing should be wrong, should it? . .
. and yet, I don't know where to begin."

Sitting up fully, he held his arms out to her. It was not unusual to
offer her a warm embrace and consolation when she needed it, but never
before had he done so while covered only by scant layers of cotton bed
sheets and a quilt. She was also acutely aware of stepping into new
territory, and tentatively accepted his embrace, resting her cheek on
his bare shoulder.

"Penny for your thoughts," he whispered, curling his arms around her.

She seemed to consider her words for some time before speaking, and
when she did, it was apparently a completely different subject.
"Seeing Wesley again was strange, Jean-Luc." She sat up. "It's hard
sometimes to remember he's not the child I brought with me on board
the Enterprise. I know, rationally, that he's grown up. Hell, more
than grown up. But he met me on Luna. We sat and talked, peer to peer,
not mother to son."

She stood, paced a bit, seemingly fascinated by the trees bending in
the gentle wind. "I don't think I can describe to you how odd that was
for me. Especially when one moment he's asking me a million questions
about technical upgrades on the new ship, the latest mission on the
Baku homeworld, and then took me by surprise by asking me. . .  he
asked about you and me. And the look of shock on his young face when I
told him the reality of our relationship, how he suddenly became an
innocent child all over again as he asked me, 'Why not, mom?' And
suddenly, yes, it sounded ludicrous! 'Why not' indeed! For so many
years I've known you loved me, and you knew I loved you, you must
have. . .  and how many times we came so close to tearing down that
wall. . .

"I think I started laughing and crying at the same time. So much
wasted time.

"It was his idea. Coming here. That much of what I said yesterday was
true. He was sure that if I met you here – and he was certain you'd be
here – I'd certainly 'win out' over 'some other woman'. So like a son
to say so about his mother." She laughed lightly, as if trying to
pretend the very notion hadn't appealed to her. "Oh, I had my own
reasons as well. I knew I could come damn close to reclaiming the
youth I'd had when we met, make those years disappear, or at least
fool myself into believing they had for just a little while. I asked
if it would be all right according to Traveler rules for him to bring
me here, and Wesley was all too happy to oblige; you know he's always
been fond of. . . " She paused, looking over her shoulder to meet his
eyes. ". . . loved you." He nodded – after all, Wes had been like a
son to him, and thought perhaps this had been something the young man
had wanted for a long time.

"I arrived here with no warning at all. . .  and the woman I viewed as
my rival? Treated me like an honored guest. She gave me a room in
Marta's home, showed nothing but kindness to me, always had a moment
for me when I needed it. Didn't take long for me to think of her not
as a foe, but as a friend. I can't tell you how many nights we sat up
far too late talking about. . .  things that I just couldn't discuss
with my son. She has a real gift for drawing the longest of histories
out of a person, without saying much about her own feelings in
return."

He could only nod.

"I was surprised to see you yesterday morning. I had no idea you were
here yet – though I should have known, because I could have sworn I'd
heard your voice the night before. . . " She laughed. "And Anij told
me I was hearing things. From the look in your eyes, I thought for
certain you were as happy to see me again as I was to see you."

She sighed. "Then came our conversation on the path, about the
approval from the others. . .  and with that I began to think maybe I
was wrong all along. That you were here for no other reason but to be
with Anij. Sure, you were happy to see me, but you'd moved on to
greener pastures." She paused long enough to sit on the edge of the
bed again, and look at him. "Out in the field out there, I really
thought you were going to tell me that while you loved me, you were
going to take her up on the offer. I was preparing myself to accept
it, even though I didn't like it.

"So you completely caught me off guard, told me something I was hoping
to hear all along. And. . . "

Did he imagine the pink flush that raced across her cheek? "'And'
what?"

". . . and then hormones got the better of me, and I acted. . .  like
I did. In a manner completely unlike the woman you know. I guess
there's a small part of me that's afraid I've somehow screwed it up
all over again."

He reached out, and took hold of her hands in his.

"Beverly. Let me begin by saying you needn't have gone through the
trouble of making yourself younger again just for me. I'd still feel
the way I feel if I were a hundred and you were a doddering old woman
of eighty. But. . .  I am touched at your effort." He paused, leaned
forward, and whispered conspiratorially, "And quite pleased with the,
er, results."

She lifted her gaze to meet his, her blue eyes twinkling devilishly,
her mouth set in a playful smirk. Something within him stirred.

"I am glad you approve."

"My dear, I have always approved."

He pulled her hands gently towards him, and they leaned into one
another, their lips meeting for a tender kiss. Sparks ignited very
quickly and as the kiss deepened, she found herself climbing upon his
lap, one leg on either side of him, dress hem pushed quite far up.

As she sat up so that he might release the fasteners on the dress open
to her waist, he traced a delicate line between her breasts to her
navel, and she whispered, "Oh, I am so glad we've come to our senses,
Jean-Luc."

---

The teapot was stone cold when Picard thought about it again. He
opened his sleepy eyes and looked down to the reposing Beverly, her
tresses cascading across the fine mat of hair on his chest and asked
her if she was happy.

"The word happy," she murmured, "is entirely inadequate." She lifted
her chin to look at him. "Corny as it sounds? I feel like some part of
me I never knew was broken has been healed."

His dream came back to him with a startling force of recollection, and
she screwed up her brows at seeing his face change subtly but
perceptibly. He explained the dream to her, seeing now that what he
had been most afraid of was that she would some day no longer see him
as anything but part of the landscape, leaving all memories of his
friendship and love forgotten and in the past. He was afraid that she
would no longer need him.

"Even if all of this had never happened, Jean-Luc, I'd always need
you." She rested her cheek against his chest, as she tightened her
embrace around his waist.

He lazily began combing her hair with his fingers as he spoke softly.
"The night I arrived, I had every reason to think that I would be
sleeping with Anij. I was attracted to her, and I knew she was
attracted to me. And I was coming to spend weeks on this planet at her
invitation. I guess I read more into it than there was." He paused and
realized with the benefit of hindsight that her invitation must have
instead been a ploy to get him to the planet because of Beverly. The
little sneak. "Then she told me about the whole dy'noj'a thing. . . 
but omitting the part that Kurt's comment brought to light. I was more
than a little disappointed to be sent off to bed alone, I'll admit.

"Then that night I had the dream with you in it. In the process of
explaining why something that seemed so innocuous would rattle me so
badly, Anij managed to drag our whole history out of me."

He heard a slight chuckle rumble out of Beverly's throat.

"So it really was a conspiracy," she muttered with a grin.

"After she heard my woeful tale" — Beverly laughed — "she proceeded to
tell me what a fool I was for not seeing what was directly in front of
me. And of course she was right. . .  but at the time I thought
perhaps she was just exceptionally insightful. Little did I know you
were actually here.

"On the way from the barn to the house, I had made up my mind to let
you know as soon as I could. Then I saw you, and knew it would be
sooner than later."

She turned her head and kissed him.

"I have to give Anij credit. She could have easily taken me to bed,
but she knew what would be waiting for me the next day. Not many
people would have done that, and I admire her for it. For many
things." He sighed, closing his eyes.

A silent laugh rocked her chest. "Jean-Luc, regardless of what you
might say, you really are just an old romantic at heart."

He wanted dearly to argue the point with her, but could find no words,
so instead, he kissed her again.

---

Picard knew that all good things must come to an end, and as he
stuffed the last article of clothing into his cylindrical travel bag,
he had known all along that this particular shore leave would be no
different. However, he was satisfied knowing that the happiness that
he had found at last with Beverly would not be ending.

A voice from the hallway called, "All set? The shuttle is going to be
here in fifteen minutes." Beverly appeared in the doorway.

He nodded. "Just having another look around before we go, make sure we
don't leave anything behind."

"Anij knows where to find us even if we did." She ran a hand along his
shoulder; he turned to look at her.

"This is going to be strange," he said thoughtfully. At her confused
and worried look, he elaborated: "Balancing both a command and you as
a—" He stopped abruptly. What was she, exactly? It seemed ridiculous
to call her a 'girlfriend'; he had never felt comfortable with the
formal-sounding 'partner'; 'lover' implied to him that it was only
about sex, which it wasn't, as much as he enjoyed that aspect of this
relationship; and they weren't exactly married by Earth standards.

"It's all right." Beverly smiled at his inability to find the right
word, and he was grateful. "The fact that you're even willing to
consider it now is good enough for me."

He smiled, and leaned in to kiss her. As they departed the room
together, he said confidentially, "I suppose I could call you my
dy'noj."

Beverly laughed lightly. "'Fiancιe' will do just fine."

He stopped, raised an eyebrow, and met her challenging gaze.

'Fiancιe' it would be, then.

---

The End