The BLTS Archive - A is for. . . 
by RosyRock (rosyrock1968@yahoo.com.au)

---

Published: 09-08-06

Updated: 09-08-06

---

Someone was calling her name. She chose to ignore it and concentrated
instead on the hammering pain in her head.

"Beverly!"

The owner of the voice was annoyingly persistent.

Beverly shifted and sat bolt upright. The world swayed sickeningly.
"Shit," she cursed softly. That was most definitely the wrong move.

"Are you all right?"

The voice was concerned now.

Beverly opened her eyes. The room danced before her in a giddy,
nauseous minuet. She swallowed.

Jean-Luc Picard watched as his Chief Medical Officer turned a pale
shade of green. "Are you sure you are all right?" he asked, worry
making his tone sharper than he intended.

Beverly focused blearily on him. "I'll live." She took a cautious look
around. "What the hell happened?"

He followed her gaze around the room. "I don't know." He stood
unsteadily.

Beverly pushed her nausea aside as she assessed the situation. "The
last thing I remember. . .  was beginning the transport to Kesprytt..." She
took in their grim surroundings. "These are certainly not the
accommodations I was expecting."

Jean-Luc smiled wryly at her small attempt at humour. He began a
survey of the room they had awoken to find themselves in. It was
small, dim and totally Spartan. He did not like the conclusion that
his appraisal was leading him to. "I would assume that we are on
Kesprytt. . .  in some kind of prison cell."

Beverly sighed dejectedly and winced as her heavy breakfast debated
whether it was going or staying. "Great. Just brilliant."

Jean-Luc looked at her sharply. "It's a little too early to be
abandoning all hope, Doctor." And to prove his point he walked around
and began a purposefully detailed inspection of the cell. He stopped
at the door. Locked tight. No surprise there. He tinkered with the
opening mechanism and ran his hands over the surfaces surrounding the
entrance.

Beverly watched him. He just never gave up. But then again it was
obvious that his stomach contents weren't about to hit the floor. She
leaned back again and closed her eyes. There was plenty of time to be
a hero. . .  later. She could hear him mumbling to himself as he went about
systematically trying to find a way out, but then he had plenty of
practice. He had been held prisoner quite a few times in his life,
lock picking was probably second nature to him by now. She smiled
despite herself.

"Oh, very funny."

Beverly's eyes snapped open. "What is?"

"Nevermind."

Beverly grimaced. She was thinking out loud. She must be feeling
sicker than she thought. Jean-Luc had turned back to his survey of the
room and Beverly let her mind wander, finding its own path, her own
personal way of giving stress an outlet. Her thoughts drifted back to
her breakfast with him that morning. He had seemed distracted. No,
more than that actually. He had been distant to the point of not even
pretending to listen to her chatter. It had irked her more than she
had let on—and he hadn't touched his breakfast. That really did make
her fume. She had spent some considerable time getting the meal just
right. Lately, she had been going through the replicator trying out
new and interesting dishes from all over the quadrant, but he hadn't
seemed to notice and now he wasn't even bothering to cover his
disinterest in her morning talk. Beverly wondered if he was trying to
give her the hint that he would prefer his own company at breakfast
time for a while.

The topic of her musings was still meticulously going over every inch
of the room. He was studying one particular section with infinite
patience. Beverly felt itchy just looking at him.

He turned towards her, faint annoyance on his face. "What?"

"What?" Confused, Beverly could only mirror his words in response.

"You're staring at me."

Beverly bristled at the accusatory tone in his voice. "I was just
wondering how long you were going to keep at this." She made a
sweeping gesture with her hands. "This...thing you are doing."

Jean-Luc sighed. "As long as it takes." He turned back to the wall.
"I'm looking for a flaw. With a bit of luck there may be a structural
defect somewhere that will allow us to escape."

Beverly sat back. "Right," she said, without conviction.

Jean-Luc couldn't ignore her pessimistic tone of voice. He frowned as
he stared at the wall before him, refusing to concede defeat. "The
important thing during any confinement is to think positively and not
to give up hope... there is a way out of every box... there is a
solution to every puzzle...it is simply a matter of..."

Beverly listened listlessly as he spoke. As he bent to examine the
bottom of the door for the umpteenth time, something caught her
eye...something not right. Beverly looked again at the back of his
neck, more closely this time. She gasped involuntarily as alarm
flooded through her. "Jean-Luc!"

He turned to look at her. "What is it?"

She was on her feet and at his side in an instant. "I'm not sure,
there is something...some kind of implant..." Her fingers touched the
base of his skull before gently inspecting the implant itself. Her
eyes moved worriedly over it, assessing the site and mentally
picturing the area of implantation and its likely effects on the
surrounding brain tissue. "It looks like it is directly connected to
the brain stem."

Jean-Luc felt himself tense with instinctive fear. His mind leapt to a
chilling conclusion. "A kind of coercive device?"

Beverly shook her head. "I have no idea. That area of the brain
controls a great many instinctive and unconscious responses." She ran
her hand along the back of her neck and froze. Her eyes met
Jean-Luc's.

He frowned. "You have one too?"

She nodded, leaning forward and moving her hair aside so he could see
for himself. "And whatever they are, I doubt they're designed for our
health."

Jean-Luc let this new addition to their situation sink in. This
changed things, made the imperative to find a way out of this cell
even more urgent.

Beverly sighed. "Without my tricorder, I have no way of knowing what
these devices are, let alone what they're doing to our brain
function."

Jean-Luc was just about to speak when the door to the cell slid open
and a tall elegant woman walked in flanked by two guards.

For a split second, Beverly could almost physically feel her captain's
attention being withdrawn from her and turned to the woman as she
approached. She carried a scanner and without a word raised it and
began to scan the two of them.

Jean-Luc sized up the guards, the distance to the cell door and the
weapons they carried. The door had stayed ajar for a tantalizing few
seconds after they had entered the room. He had taken the chance to
have a quick look out into the corridor before the door had closed
with grim finality behind them.

Beside him, Beverly tensed. She was watching the woman closely as she
used a tricorder device to scan them. The woman's fingers flew across
the keypad, but she said nothing. She did not even look up from her
work. Picard had had enough. "Why are we being held?" he demanded.

The woman was more interested in the readouts on her small tricorder
than she was in answering his question; she continued to work,
ignoring him completely.

Beverly decided to employ a more conciliatory tact. She took a deep
breath and tried to sound reasonable. "If you tell us why you have
taken us hostage, we might be able to. . . "

"You are not hostages, you are prisoners," the woman said, without
pause. "You are being held by authority of the Prytt security
ministry." She finally turned her attention to them both. "The charge
is conspiring with the enemy."

The wheels turned in Jean-Luc's mind. "The enemy?...you mean the Kes."

The distaste on the woman's face as he mentioned the faction's name
spoke volumes. "We are not fools. We are aware of the Federation's
attempts to establish a military alliance with the Kes." She snapped
her tricorder shut. "It will not be tolerated."

Picard tried to reason with her. "Your information is in error. There
are no plans to enter into any. . . "

She shook her head, silencing his words. "There is no point trying to
mislead us, Captain. The devices that have been implanted in your
cerebral cortexes will soon be calibrated to you psi-wave patterns."
She smiled coolly. "At that time we will then get all the information
that we need."

Beverly stepped forward and spoke quietly, flatly stating a fact. "You
will then find that we are telling you the truth."

The Prytt woman turned to her with a tolerant smile, giving her the
impression of a woman who was politely and patiently trying to
communicate with a lower life form. "We shall see." She tapped a
series of commands into the tricorder and the door slid open again.
She turned and left the room, the guards following closely.

Jean-Luc cursed softly as he futilely tried to make it to the door
before it slid shut behind them.

Beverly turned to him, trying to brighten the moment. "At least we
know what these devices do, and when the Prytt find out they are
mistaken..."

He sighed deeply. He held no absolutely no illusions about their
situation. "Yes. They will find that they are mistaken. But by then,
what damage will they have inflicted on us? Exactly how are the Prytt
going to use the implants to extract the information from us?"

At his words, Beverly felt a chill pass through her. She gave him a
small faltering smile. "I am starting to think negatively, Jean-Luc."

Instinctively, he reached out to gently touch her hand.

As his skin touched hers, he felt wave of emotion wash over her, a
flare of... deep, intense, tangled sensation coming from the woman
next to him. Shocked, he pulled his hand away, breaking the contact
between them. Jean-Luc saw the play of emotions on her face,
experienced her puzzlement and shock. He could not believe what had
happened. Had he actually felt those emotions from her?

Before he could ask her, she turned her back to him, distancing
herself. After a while, she spoke. "I guess we had better start to
psychologically prepare ourselves for whatever is to come." She
cleared her throat. "I think it would be best if we keep ourselves
occupied."

"And how would you suggest we do that, Doctor?"

She turned back to him. "A game. We play a game."

He didn't look very enthusiastic.

Beverly put on her most encouraging expression, the one she saved for
difficult patients. "I know the perfect one. It uses the alphabet. We
start at A and go through matching our thoughts and impressions using
the letters as a guide."

He was looking even less convinced. "How did you learn this game?"

Beverly shook her head. "I just invented it a long time ago. I use it
to help me when I'm stressed." She laughed. "It saves time in
counsellor's offices."

As if catching a thought he looked at her. "You avoid counsellors,
don't you?"

Beverly smiled tightly. "I don't object to them as a species..."

Jean-Luc heard her light-hearted words but felt something different
from her, an embryonic half formed emotion that was totally at odds
with the words she had spoken. He watched her avidly and felt the
feeling he had shared with her recede. Her smile had softened into
that familiar teasing one and he found himself responding to it. "All
right. Let's play a game."

Beverly nodded. "Okay. I'll start." She closed her eyes and thought.
"A is for. . . " Her eyes opened and she looked straight at him. "Annoyed."

Jean-Luc walked over to the bench and sat down. "Why 'annoyed'?"

"I am annoyed that you are withdrawing slowly but surely from our
breakfasts together and you won't tell me why."

He cleared his throat. "This is certainly some game, Beverly. Couldn't
you think of something more cheerful to start with?"

She folded her arms. "What? As cheerful as you were at breakfast this
morning? You started off my morning just fine, I assure you."

"I don't think I like this game."

"Too bad. I've started it now, we have to finish."

"Why?"

"We just do."

He frowned. "Why?"

She turned to him. "Because I like to finish what I start."

He shook his head. Either the Prytt were going to kill him or
captivity with Beverly would. He tried to distract her. "Do you think
if I gave you a boost up you could check the top of that cell door?"

She sighed. "Oh, I suppose so."

He held his joined hands out and she stepped up. He shoved her into
the air and she gripped onto the door frame for dear life. "Exactly
what am I looking for?"

"Anything unusual."

"Don't drop me."

"Keep looking."

Beverly ran her hand tentatively along the door frame. "There is
nothing 'unusual' here. It is sealed tight. Can I come down now?"

"Any cracks or exposed mechanisms?"

For some reason that struck Beverly as funny. She stifled a smile.
"No, Jean-Luc."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Jean-Luc."

He held her securely and lowered her as gently as he could. He felt
her slide down along the front of him. Just before she landed, she
slipped slightly and for a moment her hands gripped onto his behind as
she steadied herself. "Ass, A is for. . .  nice ass."

"BEVERLY!" he choked out.

"What?"

"I heard you."

She bit her lip. "Heard what?"

"Your comment."

She grew serious. "You heard that? Jean-Luc, I never said a word." She
walked back to the bench and sat down.

He came to sit beside her, letting the implications of what had
happened sink in. "The implants," he said flatly.

Beverly reached behind her neck and touched the transceiver curiously.
"Yes. I suspect so. In aligning our psi wave patterns they might be
sending our thoughts." She turned to him and closed her eyes,
concentrating. "What am I thinking now?"

"I am almost scared to find out," he answered wryly.

"Be serious."

He waited. Nothing. "I don't know."

Beverly opened her eyes. "I can't hear your thoughts either. Maybe it
was a fluke."

He certainly hoped so. He remembered the feel of her hands on him. The
seductive, teasing sounds of her thoughts as he held her. Oh yes,
there were parts of his mind that were definitely off-limits to
Beverly Crusher.

Meanwhile, Beverly was sifting through some problems of her own. It
was dawning on her that being mentally attached to Jean-Luc Picard
might prove to be awkward. She was far too aware of him to be even
remotely comfortable with this turn of events. The turmoil that was
her feelings for him were raw and untouchable, enmeshed in layers of
complex emotion.

Deflated, she sighed.

"Hey now," Jean-Luc said softly, his hand reaching for hers. "I
believe that it was my turn in your game, the letter B..."

She turned to him, grateful for his playful tone of voice, willing to
go along with him. "It is my turn. We are up to the letter C."

"No, it is my turn, the letter B."

She shook her head. "No. You had your go. You used up your B word when
you said 'Beverly' that was your entire turn." She gave a very
reasonable impression of the outraged way he called out her name.
"Remember?"

He sat back. "That isn't fair; you had two goes at A."

"My game, my rules."

"Indeed. Well then, I know what the C stands for. Cheater!"

"You have me there and you stole my go! So I guess that brings us to
D." An imp of a smile played across her lips. "I am surprised that
Dixon Hill hasn't been able to pick that lock and get us out of here.
There you go. D is for Detective."

"Beverly, this is hardly a simple twentieth century key type lock. Its
complex system of circuitry that even a veteran like Dixon Hill would
balk at."

Beverly turned to him, a glint in her eye. "A lock is a lock, Dix. A
pro could pick that device with a hairpin."

"Of which I carry several upon my person," he said, self deprecating.

"I have one." Beverly ran her fingers through her hair and took out an
old fashioned hairpin. "It belonged to my mother. I keep it with me,
sort of a good luck charm." She stood and walked over to the door.
"What was that Dixon Hill book called where they picked the locked in
Dix's office?"

Jean-Luc was incredulous. "You aren't serious about this."

Beverly carried on blithely. "Oh, I remember. It was 'The Last Kiss
Goodnight.' Dix was trapped in his office, while the evil doer was on
his way to murder..." She looked to him. "What was her name?"

"Mona."

She lifted her eyebrow. "Ahh yes. . .  Mona, the blonde with the rather
over exaggerated breasts." She turned and bent down to examine the
lock. "As I recall, the book said you just slide the pin in and jiggle
it." She straightened up and looked at him pointedly. "Mona did a lot
of that." She un-bent the pin and gently inserted it into the locking
device, turning it this way and that.

Jean-Luc rolled his eyes. "You can't be serious, Doctor. It's not that
simple. One can't just. . . " To his astonishment, there was the sound of a
small energy surge accompanied by a dull spark. "What did you just
do?" he asked his tone one of utter disbelief.

"I...I don't know," Beverly said. "I just jiggled it. The metal pin
must have caused a confined short circuit, some sort of feedback or
overload." She pushed on the cell door and it silently slid ajar.
"Well, that was simple."

She peeked out into the corridor. It was empty. She pushed the door
open a bit further and wiggled through the gap.

Her captain stood where she had left him, still in shock as he watched
her disappear.

"Are you coming?" she whispered from the corridor. "There is no
telling whether I triggered an alarm or not." Now move your ass.

Her last thought hit him loud and clear. You exasperate the hell out
of me, he fumed silently as he followed her.

Beverly looked back at him. Well that's 'E' taken care of. Don't make
me use 'F'.

For a moment, they stood stunned. Feelings of disbelief flew from one
to the other at the ease with which they had just shared their
thoughts. That was quickly followed by the dawning realisation that
they were standing in the corridor like sitting ducks. Jean-Luc pulled
Beverly behind him and ventured down the hallway first. Don't argue,
he thought firmly.

No way, she answered, and stayed close behind.

The hallway stretched along in front of them. The corridor consisted
of a series of holding cells on either side. As they passed them,
Beverly looked into some of the open cells. She was confused to see
what looked like medical research equipment in quite a few of them. I
thought this was a prison.

Ahead of her, Jean-Luc paused.

Unsure of whether he had heard her thoughts or not, she kept quiet,
not wanting to distract him.

The corridor opened out into a vestibule area. A large schematic lined
the wall opposite them. From where they stood, they could make out a
directory for the building, colour coded areas and routes around the
compound clearly marked. Beverly's confusion spilled over in her
thoughts. A schematic in a prison?

Jean-Luc looked over his shoulder and spoke softly, "I agree. It makes
no sense."

Beverly mused out loud. "Why would the captors give the prisoners a
road map out of here?" She remembered the medical equipment she had
seen in the rooms they passed. Unless this isn't a prison at all.

"What do you mean?"

Beverly mentally replayed what she had seen, watching for his
reaction. I think this is some kind of research facility. She waited
for his affirmation of her suspicions.

Nodding Jean-Luc agreed. "That would make sense. The holding cells,
the medical equipment, the lack of security."

The shoddy locks, she added, and saw his smile.

He motioned at the directory. "And our escape route."

"What worries me the most is—what are they researching here and on
whom?" She felt for the implant. "If these are torture devices, who
are they perfecting them on?"

"I have no idea. But as soon as I can, I will make sure that the Kes
and the Federation are informed." He gently led her back to the
problem at hand. "But to do that, we must first get ourselves out of
here in one piece."

Cautiously, they approached the large wall schematic. After studying
it for a moment, Jean-Luc gestured at a meandering tertiary exit
route. "That one, it seems to be some kind of emergency exit, less
chance of running into any Prytt."

Beverly was confused. She could make nothing out of the glyphs on the
wall. "How the hell can you tell that? I didn't know you could read
Prytt."

It's settled then, he thought confidently, ignoring her. We go that
way.

Beverly shook her head in disbelief. "You have no idea what that says,
do you? You really don't know."

"I'm making an educated guess."

Beverly was floored. "Do you do this all the time? Acting like you
know exactly which way to go, when you are really just winging it?"
But he had already headed off, leaving her questions unanswered.
Fuming, she aimed her thoughts at his back. That's it then. F is
definitely for Faker.

They arrived at the 'emergency exit' with surprising ease. They
avoided the main thoroughfares, sticking to less used corridors. The
few personnel that they glimpsed on their way, judging by the attire,
seemed to be scientists and medical staff, confirming Beverly's theory
that this was indeed some sort of research facility.

Now they stood before the 'exit'. This door had no locking device on
it, but still Beverly found herself hesitating. The door to the
holding cell had obviously not been alarmed, as they had seen
absolutely no evidence that an alert had been raised. But for some
instinctive reason, Beverly wasn't so sure about this door. Her
cautious thoughts had transferred themselves to her captain and they
now stood engaged in a lightening fast mental discussion about her
qualms.

I think it's alarmed, she warned.

Why?

Because I just have a feeling that it is.

Explain.

I can't. . .  it's just a feeling. I think it's alarmed.

Before his thoughts came to her, she felt him give the mental
equivalent of a long suffering sigh. Beverly, think logically—it's an
emergency exit. When it's to be used an alarm has already been
sounded, for whatever reason that the emergency is in progress.

I'm not so sure.

Well I am.

Another wild guess? she ventured, smartly

BEVERLY!

All right, all right. Open the damn door.

He reached out confidently and pushed the door wide open. Almost
simultaneously, they heard the ear-splitting screech of alarm klaxons.

"Damn!" Jean-Luc said.

It was too much for Beverly. She could no more hold in her thoughts than
she could sprout wings and fly. I told you so.

His answer was to swear vehemently and internally, in fluent French.

Beverly couldn't understand the exact words, but the mental inference
was perfectly clear. Indignantly, she stepped past him and into the
passage. "You do realise that's physically impossible for me to do,"
she said frostily.

The exit proved to be a very tertiary one indeed. They followed its
meanderings as it wound its way to the outside world. The alarm had
made haste a necessity and they were both grateful when they finally
reached the end of the chamber. They quickly decided that they would
leave the path and head for the cover of the scrub and trees that
lined it. They walked through it for what seemed to Beverly like an
eternity before they eventually stumbled upon a deserted dirt track.

Again, they stood debating. This time it was about the pros and cons
of using the track. As far as Beverly was concerned, its merits
outweighed any argument. Jean-Luc was in favour of the camouflage
provided by the scrub.

After much arguing Beverly, decided she was too tired to care. I am
using it and if you don't like it, you can always find another way.

Fine, I just might.

FINE! She fumed, and then sighed wearily"Maybe we should put some
distance between ourselves," Beverly said as she started walking away
from him. "At this rate we're going to kill each other before
nightfall."

She had gone no further than a few paces from him when she staggered,
doubling over with nausea and dizziness. The sensation was worse than
any kind of vertigo she had ever experienced, and she found herself
incapable of standing. "Jean-Luc," she choked out.

She looked up to find him crawling towards her, desperate to reach
her. She put her hand out towards him, grasping for him weakly. As he
neared her, the nausea started to abate, and by the time he had taken
her hand, she felt fine.

"What happened?" he gasped.

Beverly sat up. "I don't know...I suddenly felt a wave of nausea."

"Me too." He helped her stand. "I don't see anything wrong with either
of us now."

Beverly felt a sense of misgiving. It was clear he had also shared the
miasma of sickness, but had he been feeling her nausea or a bout of
his own?

Experimentally, she took a few more steps away from him. The nausea
returned. She retreated back towards him and it passed.

"The same thing, but when you came back to me I felt better," Jean-Luc
observed. They stared at each other for a moment as the implications
of this sunk in. He smiled gamely at her trying to downplay the
situation. "It would seem we're stuck with each other."

The look on Beverly's face was priceless. He chuckled to himself. Come
on doctor, it isn't that bad! Then he grew serious. "You know we
really should stick to the cover of the scrub." He held up his hand as
her objection registered in his mind. "Yes, I know you are tired and
thoroughly fed up. But we're too exposed here on the road." He sighed
ominously. "They know we're missing by now and I can't imagine they
are happy with that situation. They will be looking for us." He
watched as her face grew grim.

"I know," she said with quiet resignation.

The urge to take a hold of her arm and pull her to him grew
overwhelming. He stepped towards her but was startled to feel her
shrink away, mentally and physically. He shot a questioning thought to
her, but for a moment she separated herself, becoming emotionally
blind to him. He felt her force herself to stay calm.

She smiled crookedly. "Well, which direction do we go?"

Once again he found himself without a certain answer. He looked about
him. "That way," he said, pointing in the direction of two mountain
ridges.

Beverly's amused thoughts took over. You did it again! You just picked
which way we go out of thin air.

There are times when it's important for a captain to give the
appearance of confidence, he answered, and squaring his shoulders, he
turned inland off the dirt road towards the ridge.

Beverly sighed and followed.

They had been walking for an hour or so, as best as Beverly could
judge, being careful to use what cover was available, when she started
to feel terribly hungry. At first she could ignore it, but soon the
ache in her empty stomach began to take on titanic proportions.
Visions of her Nana's vegetable soup played like an endless loop in
her mind. After a while she gave in and let herself daydream of a
large bowl of soup, picturing freshly baked crusty bread rolls to
accompany it. She was just ripping them open and adding dollops of
butter when Jean-Luc pulled up in front of her so suddenly that she
almost collided with him.

"Beverly, could you please think of something else, you're making me
making me extremely hungry," he said tersely.

"Well, what would you like me to think about?"

"Something other than a large steaming bowl of vegetable soup with
buttered rolls."

I was just about to add dessert. A large bowl of pudding with hot
caramel sauce and—

"BEVERLY!"

"I was only thinking. I never actually said any of it." He was being
totally unreasonable. She stuck her mental tongue out at him. "I
suppose you don't want to hear about the Vulcan dish I had planned for
breakfast when we get back..." she trailed off mid sentence, struck by
something jolting she had just heard him think. "You hate having
breakfast with me," she said, shocked.

Jean-Luc looked at her. "That's not true."

Beverly put her hands on her hips. "Yes it is. As soon as I said
'breakfast' I heard you say, I hate that."

He had the grace to look sheepish. "That's not quite what I meant."

Well then, what did you mean?

"I simply don't like..."

It dawned on her. You don't like what I've been choosing for
breakfast.

"No, no. It's... just that I feel breakfast should be... a simple
meal... and recently they seem to have become more elaborate." He
concentrated on his idea breakfast... something plain and easy. . . 
simple.

Beverly heard his thoughts. I've been taking ages over choosing those
menus and you tell me you would be happy with tea and scones. That's
what you really want? She sighed aloud. "Why didn't you just say so?"

He shrugged. "It just didn't seem important."

It is to me.

Jean-Luc looked to her, shocked at the feelings that came to him with
those words, as if she had opened to him some forbidden path in her
mind, and then just as quickly, he felt her clamp shut on those
feelings, viciously, ruthlessly.

"I think it is getting dark," she said, changing the subject
completely.

He shook himself mentally. "Yes. It might be best for us to find a
sheltered place to spend the night."

They finally found a small cul de sac, shielded from view by rocks and
vegetation. They gathered up some wood for a fire and having gotten it
started, he stretched out next to it. He watched Beverly as she used
the last of the dying light to study the plants growing around them.
She walked to and fro shaking her head. She sighed wistfully. "If I
had my tricorder, I might be able to find us something to eat, but as
it is, I know so little about the vegetation on this planet, I think
we should avoid ingesting anything in case it is poisonous." She gave
up her attempt at identifying the plant life and came to sit down next
to him

He nodded. He had noticed how for the last hour or so they had avoided
voicing their thoughts without spoken words. Everything had been said
aloud, guarded, even though he was sure the link between them was
actually getting stronger. Since her mental slip earlier on, Beverly
had put a wall around her thoughts that was positively Vulcan in its
intensity. He watched as she rubbed her hand wearily across her
forehead and over her temples. A flash of pain hit him. "I felt that,"
he said, flinching.

She hunched over forwards, cradling her head in her hands.

"One of us has a headache."

Beverly smiled weakly and looked sideways at him. "I guess that would
be me."

She felt his concern flood through her. Unable to handle the emotion
written in his eyes, she turned away from him.

Yet his thoughts followed her. Beverly. . . 

She refused to give them life, refused to acknowledge them.

"Beverly," he spoke her name softly and she felt him move towards her,
knew what he was going to do the very moment the thought occurred to
him. Then his hands warm and gentle were on her shoulders, gently
massaging the tension away. His voice, quiet as a whisper, fanned her
neck. "Tell me what's wrong."

"There's nothing wrong," she said firmly, shrugging his hands from her
shoulders, moving away from him, feeling the sharp stab of rejection
she had caused him.

The firelight played with the shadows, their world reduced to the
edges of its glow.

"I love firelight," Beverly sighed.

I love firelight. . . his thoughts echoed alongside hers. "I remember on
the holodeck with Nella once we—" He felt a shaft of pain, deep and
dark, pierce him. He looked to Beverly in confusion. "Beverly,
what. . . what was that?"

He studied her profile as she stared into the fire. Gently he tried to
understand what he had felt. Beverly I heard you, don't push it away.

Her voice when she spoke, was strained. "Jean-Luc, please. I don't
want to talk about this right now."

He wasn't going to let this go. He knew that the effort required to
keep herself isolated from him was hurting her physically and
emotionally. He moved closer to her. "When I said Nella's name, I felt
this sudden wave of. . . " his words trailed off as he fought to describe
it.

He felt her pull away, grow even more guarded.

"Beverly, no don't. Please don't pull away. Don't you realise you're
my best friend?" a pang of intense emotion from her swept over him as
he soon as the words had left his lips. He drew her against him,
gently opening his thoughts to her.

I've never thanked you properly for being there for me. After the
Borg... when guilt and misery nearly took me—you saved my life, my
sanity... I owe you a debt I can never truly repay. He smiled at her
gently

Her thoughts swirled back to him darkly, painfully, her heart still
heavy. Her sadness compelled him to continue. When I wanted to give
up, you were there waiting to save me... do you know how often my
thoughts of you have saved me? Picturing your smile, hearing your
voice is what hauled me back into the light. During those dark days on
Cardassia, when I lost my way and even the stars that I love so much
seemed to fade—sure as sunrise it was you that tempted me back to the
day.

A single tear, unchecked, brimmed over and trailed down her face. He
watched, mesmerised as it fell through the air, glittering like a
jewel, landing wetly on his hand. He brought his hand to his mouth and
tasted her sadness. Don't push it away, Beverly...please.

She watched him, spellbound by the intimacy of his gesture. It broke
her, all her defences were gone, and she let him in.

'I whispered an offer softly, in the ear of your heart. I closed my
mouth and spoke to you in a hundred silent ways, but the day I may
join my beloved is nowhere in sight so slowly, slowly I turn away from
this love.'

"You taught me that poem," she breathed to him softly, and immediately
felt his confusion, his lack of understanding. She smiled sadly. Not
in words, Jean-Luc. You taught me that poem through my sorrow. She
sighed aloud. How I wish I could show you. What we have now is not
what I wanted, not the way I wanted to tell you. She laid her hand on
his. If I can use my thoughts to paint my emotions now, could I show
them to you? Are you brave enough to try to feel them?

He nodded. Show me.

Beverly's eyes met his. I offer this gift to you. . . only you. So many
years I have wanted to tell you how much I loved you. When I listened
to your sobs and held your face within my hands, when I dried your
tears and laid along side you and held you after those terrible times,
did you never see that I was showing you all the things I dared never
say out loud? I kissed you and then suffered the depths of guilt as
you held me, knowing the lies I had told myself, feeling the yearning
for you like an ocean, a dark sea only you could light my way through.
Is it a sin on my soul that from the first time we met, I longed for
you? Because I have already burned, believe me...with guilt and
remorse and. . . my own dark whirlpools of forbidden desire. . .  and all the
way through it, I waited, wanted, hoped and felt despair. . .  I starved
that good feeling— that love—pushed it deep down inside, when all I
ever wanted was to do was give in and descend into that dark ocean I
had made for myself. . . and dive. . .  Her thoughts faltered and came to a
stop.

Jean-Luc circled the palm of her hand with his thumb. He sat and
thought a long time before speaking. "Why didn't you ever tell me you
were in love with me?"

Can you honestly say you never knew? She looked to the fire and shook
her head sadly before turning back to him. "How could I tell you? I'm
sure I am not the first bride who woke up on her wedding day to
realise that she was marrying the wrong man. I went through with it
hoping that I would forget you, that my feelings would somehow go
away. I made promises. I married a good man, and every day of that
marriage I let him down, I broke those promises, I made a commitment
to him that I had no right to make. I was a coward not to face up to
it."

His denial was instant. No you were never that...

"Yes I was and a thousand other things besides. I knew it wasn't right
and that I would never act on it, but I couldn't help the way I felt
about you."

"And then when Jack died you felt guilty," he concluded softly.

Beverly gave a small mocking laugh. "I felt guilty long before he
died, having those feelings for my husband's best friend. And then
after the accident, I promised myself that no matter what happened, I
would never let you know how I felt. So in the end, I guess the G in
my silly game stands for Guilt. . . my own personal penance for the sins of
my heart."

She closed her eyes, empty now. "Now you know what's on my mind, in my
thoughts. Run away Jean-Luc Picard, run far, far away."

He tilted her face towards him and his lips touched hers, once and
then twice, silky soft. Her tears still fell and he wiped them gently
with his fingers. "Enough tears, Beverly." His fingers wove a gentle
path up to her temple and back down to her jaw. It's time to let the
guilt go... He let his hand slide down behind her neck and pulled her
to him.

He lowered his mouth to hers and her lips parted. For a moment she let
herself drown in the sensation of tasting him for the first time. She
let her hands move over his face, gently touching, exploring. A flare
of masculine desire flooded through her.

I feel you... she sighed... you want me...

Yes. He let his thoughts slip through unguarded, denying her nothing.
He felt her response, her wants and needs, her shiver of anticipation.

I want. . .  silkily, her thoughts slipped into his mind.

His hand ran over the curve of her shoulder. . .  I know.. .His mouth
travelled lower, seeking, giving. . . his mind spoke her name like a
sensual caress... Beverly...

She let him feel her longing, holding nothing back. . .  say my name that
way again, make me feel that way again...

Beverly. . .  His mouth traced a path over her skin. So beautiful... I need
you. . . 

Yes. . .  She let the sensation of his skin on hers flow between them . . . I
want to share how you make me feel. . .  She closed her eyes and let her
body speak to him. . . My love, I give you my heart, groaning softly as she
felt his answering emotions and let the intensity of his physical need
for her take over and pull her down as his body covered hers. I give
you...everything. . . 

As the fire burned low, they came together slowly. Minds joining
first...seeking and sharing, until they were one. The rush of feeling
flowing between them made the physical joining of their bodies almost
secondary to their inner intimacy.

Hands moved and mouths explored, committing to memory the feel, the
taste, the sounds of their loving, as they gave and shared their
pleasure. The soft rhythm of passion surrounded them, drawing them
into a world of sensation, of wants fulfilled and needs answered
instinctively. The intensity between them escalated unbearably, peaked
and then ebbed.

They lay together, sharing the newly discovered communion of their
bodies and minds, neither wanting to be the first to break away. When
sleep at last came to claim them, they were still entwined, body to
body and soul to soul.

Jean-Luc Picard awoke from his dreams to a caress, butterfly soft and
gentle, it skittered tentatively over his cheek and along his jaw. It
took him a moment to realise that the sensation was not a physical
one, but a feather-light touch from the dreams of the woman in his
arms. He felt her sing to him, call him back to their shared world.
Tempted, he wanted to close his eyes and let those songs pull him in,
go back to sleep and share the idyll, but reality closed in and he
reluctantly pulled his thoughts away from her.

Beverly felt him mentally withdraw from her, his thoughts turning
outwards from their shared dreams. Her eyelids fluttered open and
realising she still lay in his arms, the events of the night before
returned, they blurred and became a shifting line between the real and
the imagined, like a dream a beautiful dream...

"Beverly?"

The sound of her name spoken aloud startled her. She hurriedly sat up.
"I'm awake."

"I know." I felt it. His attempt to smile died at the look on her
face. Are you okay?

She stood and distanced herself from him as far as she dared. Well now
that you ask, I have an incredibly sore back from this hard ground but
otherwise I am unscathed, she joked, much too brightly.

You know that's not what I meant. His eyes met hers. Beverly, about
last night...

She cut him off. Last night was. . .  She took a deep breath. Was just a
culmination of stress and the unusualness of our shared situation.
These implants are obviously causing some sort of false sense of
intimacy...

He watched her as she prattled off a veritable thesis rationalising
her denial of the deep connection they had experienced the night
before. Just an outlet for stress... mistaken sense of connection...
he followed her words, bewildered. He hadn't expected this. When
Beverly finally ran out of words, he absorbed her thoughts, trying to
understand her deep need to relegate what they had shared to the
shadowlands of the subconscious. He stood and went to move towards
her, but the alarmed nature of her thoughts stopped him. She was
afraid, deeply afraid.

He let her go then. . .  detached his mind as best as he could. As much as
he wanted to concentrate on her, to get to the bottom of this, he knew
they had more pressing issues to deal with. He deliberately voiced his
thoughts out loud, his tone brisk, leaving no room for the personal.
"We must break camp now. We can't afford to stay here any longer. I
say we keep heading in the same direction in which we started.
Hopefully the border is not too far from here, once we cross into Kes
territory, the Prytt will not be able to touch us."

Beverly nodded her agreement, glad for her own sake that he had become
so impersonal, it suited her just fine, and in the same manner she
added, "We must find some water. Walking in this heat is going to lead
to dehydration pretty fast unless we do."

"We'll make that our first priority then," he said as he scuffed at
the ashes of the campfire.

Beverly watched as he erased all evidence of the cosy interlude the
night before. As if they had never lain there, never loved there. . . a
perverse feeling of relief flooded her.

He paused for a moment and looked sharply at her. Beverly held his
gaze steadily. "It's time to go," he said brusquely, and with one last
vicious kick he turned his back to her and walked along the narrow
path the led out of the cul de sac.

Beverly lingered a moment, taking one last look at the place they had
spent the night, before she was compelled to follow.

They walked, neither of them talking, both of them trying hard not to
let their thoughts touch upon the other. Beverly kept her eyes glued
to his back, naming the muscles he used as he walked, connecting them
like a jigsaw. The anatomical terms kept her thoughts as dry as dust.
In front of her, Jean-Luc heard her thoughts, or rather, lack of them.
Irrationally, he grew irritated at her medical prattle and her use of
it to avoid the real issues that were causing the chasm between them.
"Are you going to recite the entire Grey's Anatomy, doctor?" he
snapped, "Because just for the hell of it, I could start thinking of
star charts. I know! We can play 'Let's see who falls into a coma
first.'"

"I was just keeping my mind occupied," Beverly said quietly.

He stopped walking and turned to her. "Well occupy it with something
else, that's an order!"

Beverly was so shocked for a moment she couldn't think of anything to
say.

That's a first, he thought smugly, turning back around.

Beverly glared and thought of all the possible ways to injure the
gluteus maximus that was striding away in front of her.

"Now that is no way to think about your superior officer," he threw at
her over his shoulder. "And certainly no way to advance your career."

Beverly smiled, her annoyance evaporating. "Now you have me thinking
of that silly book." She sped up and got in step next to him. "When
Jack proposed, he bought me a book. A sort of private joke between us,
it was called, How to Advance Your..."

Career Through Marriage... his thought slipped seamlessly in to finish
for her.

Beverly stopped walking and turned to him, confused. How did you know
that?

He sighed, hesitating before he answered. I bought it for him, to give
to you.

You... what? Her thoughts were incredulous

Jean-Luc looked at a spot somewhere over her shoulder, uncertain of
how to continue. Jack was in awe of you. You were so young, so. . .  he let
his mind picture her as she was back then. Fiery and alive..different
from any woman he had ever known. He wanted to propose, but had no
idea of how to go about it...he stopped and let her grasp his
thoughts.

So you bought the book for him to give to me. . . to help him propose to
me. Beverly let her breath go in a rush. I had no idea, he never told
me. . . 

Jean-Luc shrugged. "He wasn't supposed to. It worked. You married. The
rest is history."

History, she repeated.

He looked at her closely, sensing the turmoil inside her. "Beverly. . . "

She went on as if he hadn't spoken. I was so unsure back then, I had
such doubts about my relationship with Jack. I was so torn, having
those feelings for you and seeing him at the same time. I was about to
break it off, to tell him that I couldn't live with myself and my
doubts anymore. . .  and then he turned up with that book. All I could
think of was how much he must love me, how brave he had been to risk
his feelings like that. And I knew then that I couldn't hurt him. I
couldn't jeopardise our future because of yearnings I had for a man
that didn't have the faintest idea of how I felt and would never be
able to reciprocate them. She looked at him for the first time. I
married Jack because of that damn book.

It was Jean-Luc's turn to be speechless. He brought his hand up to
touch her shoulder gently. I'm so sorry.

Beverly let his feelings wash over her. Regret burrowed deep into her
heart. So am I. She smiled sadly and gave a bitter little laugh. So it
seems J is for Joke isn't it? A big cosmic joke.

Jean-Luc took her face in his hands. "You're forgetting one thing,"he
said softly. "There's supposed to be an 'I' before that J, and in my
case I can vouch that it definitely stands for Idiot."

She looked up at him then. And she saw the emotion in his eyes, felt
the sting of hurt and the pain of his own regret slam into her. He had
only one driving thought. I wish I could take back that nightmare.

Even before she saw him move, she knew what he was going to do. She
watched his head lower towards her, waited the aching few seconds
before she felt his lips on hers and then his mouth was all she could
sense, all she could comprehend.

Kiss me...

At his words, her lips parted, and she gave him what he wanted. He
groaned deeply, the sound of it, the feel of it, filling her world.
Her hands skittered tentatively over his back as he pulled her closer
to him. That familiar, enticing intimacy calling to them both. . . 

The sound of someone approaching ripped them from each other, tearing
them apart. Jean-Luc scanned the surrounding brush, his eyes lighting
on the source of the sound. Pyrtt, he communicated to her ominously
and felt her answering shaft of alarm.

His instincts took over. RUN! he ordered, taking her hand. They half
slid, half tumbled down the embankment, fear sharp and urgent pushing
them along. A phaser shot hit the ground near Jean-Luc's left foot,
dislodging some rubble, tripping him and sending him flying. Denying
his own instincts for self preservation, he let go of her hand and
Beverly saw him slide further down the slope. Jean-Luc! she called in
horrified helplessness, and without hesitation, she rushed out into
the open after him.

You're hurt. Her thoughts panicked through him.

I'm not...I'm all right.

A stab of pain lanced through her. I can feel it. Your ankle.

Jean-Luc winced, trying to make light of his injuries. It's fine,
bumps and scrapes, that's all.

She wasn't convinced. Beverly looked back up the ridge, trying to spot
the guards. I can't see them, she thought frantically. She reached
down and helped him to his feet. Keep your weight off your foot. Lean
on me. We have to keep going, we have to find cover. A flash of
movement caught her eye. They're coming after us.

Motivated by fear, they moved swiftly down the slope and into the
cover of the trees. More weapons fire sounded behind them. The copse
thinned and petered out, leaving them painfully exposed. Beverly
looked ahead, noticing a row of markers—starkly symmetrical, cutting
across the hill side. Look, Jean-Luc. The Kes border, it has to be.

Jean-Luc followed her gaze and seconds later she felt his confirmation
of her thoughts. They made their way towards the line of stark white
posts. The border was clearly marked, delineated by a row of markers
and large stanchions, graphic warnings in both languages were clearly
posted on signs either side of the border. The stanchions vibrated
constantly with a harmonic, obviously generating some sort of
forcefield.

Picking up a fist sized rock, Beverly hurled it at the gap between the
poles. Sure enough, an intimidating forcefield crackled to life
between them, an invisible, impassable barrier between them and
freedom.

We have no way of getting through... Beverly despaired.

Behind her, Jean-Luc was thinking decidedly low tech, following her
lead, he picked up some larger rocks tucking them under his arm.
Hairpins. . . 

Beverly shook her head. What?

Instead of telling her he demonstrated, picking one of the biggest
rocks in his bundle, he hurled it as hard as he could at the
stanchion. It hit it with a crack and fell back to the ground.

Beverly was confused, what the hell was he doing? Did you hit your
head when you fell? she asked him sharply.

He realised his thoughts were moving so rapidly that he had been
unable to communicate his intentions. He calmed himself down, forming
each thought fully before he spoke. Beverly, listen. Can you hear it?
That hum? The stanchions are generating each section of the forcefield
between them, but there is no forcefield around the stanchions. He
threw another rock at the post to emphasise his point. I think I can
use the rocks to try to damage the post and weaken the forcefield a
little, maybe just enough for us to pass through.

Beverly finally understood what he intended to do. You mean you are
going to bash the bloody thing down with brute force?

Yes. He looked to her. Do you have any better ideas?

She had to admit she didn't.

They approached a stanchion and Jean-Luc ran his hands down the smooth
metal, inspecting it closely and deciding where its weaknesses might
lie. He chose the most likely spot and began to hammer the rock down
again and again. Every time, the rock skittered harmlessly across the
post, lastly crushing his finger for good measure. The forcefield
hummed away, seemingly uninterrupted, mocking his efforts.

Beverly could feel his growing frustration. She brushed her hair back
from her face. Let me help.

He paused and turned briefly towards her. One of us has to keep a
lookout for the Prytt guards.

NO. Let me help.

Doctor, you are to keep a watch for those guards.

What good is that going to do, give me the chance to look them in the
eye before they shoot me?

Don't argue with me, Doctor.

Then stop trying to die the hero without me, Captain.

There was a shout from the hill behind then. They're coming. . .  Beverly's
frustrated thoughts shouted to him, furiously.

I'm going as fast as I can. He smashed the boulder down with all his
remaining strength. For a second, he thought he was fooling himself
when he saw a small pocket of the barrier flicker momentarily. Hope,
desperate and fleeting, surged through him. Bringing the rock down
again, he heard a distinct change in the harmonic as that same part of
the forcefield glittered and arched brilliantly, becoming fully
visible for the first time.

Oh god, they're almost here. . .  Beverly's frantic thought drove him on,
giving him the strength he needed to smash the rock down one last
time, hitting the vulnerable spot on the post dead on. To his intense
satisfaction, the visible section of forcefield distorted and warped,
shimmering wildly before his eyes. Yes, you bastard, he growled to
himself.

The next few seconds were a chaotic blur. As the Prytt guards rushed
at them, the distortion in the forcefield rippled and grew wider.
Jean-Luc Picard made a lightning fast decision. Grabbing Beverly
roughly, he pushed her backwards through the wildly flickering
forcefield to freedom. He had a second to register her confusion and
stab of pain as she landed hard on her butt, then the guards were on
him, pulling him away, all hope of escape for him gone.

Safe in Kes territory, Beverly jumped to her feet and turned to face
him. He stood only a metre away from her, but with the guard's weapons
trained on him, it might well have been a light year. Disbelief,
anger, and horror at what he had just done, etched its way painfully
across her face.

Why? she demanded. God, Jean-Luc! Why did you do it?

He ran his eyes over her, drinking her in for one last time. Saving
her had been instinctive, not even questioned. There was no 'why'
about his feelings for her. He knew he had to explain, he owed her
that, but felt almost completely at a loss to do so. Then it came to
him, the only explanation he had to give. You asked last night if I
knew how you felt for all these years, and god help me, I knew,
Beverly, I always knew how you felt. Your feelings are as transparent
as glass to me and always have been. His silent words wove across the
distance between them, as gentle as a breeze. I was too much of a
coward to give those feelings of yours a name, but I always knew. He
gave her a sad smile. L is the last letter in our game Beverly, it
stands for Love. I do this for love.

NO! She was frantic now. Don't you dare make this sacrifice for me and
wrap it up in love...

The spoken words of the Prytt guards as they communicated with their
base broke harshly into his thoughts, ripping away his connection to
her. "We have the human male. The female is standing in Kes
territory."

Beverly... He reached out again and felt the tempest raging inside
her. Smile for me. . .  The tingling shimmer of a transporter beam
enveloped them, silencing him before he could say anything more.

Beverly Crusher had been one hell of a hard woman to pin down lately.
It seemed that wherever Jean-Luc Picard was, she wasn't. Her flimsy
excuses had rankled him far more than he had wanted to admit, and now
her unwillingness to see him downright annoyed him.

For the hundredth time in the last few days, he caught his hand
heading towards the back of his neck where his implant had been, as if
he could still conjure up her thoughts out of thin air. His fingers
met with smooth skin, the scar long healed, but the wound on his
psyche still lay open and raw. He closed his eyes and remembered how
he had felt as the glare of Kesprytt had faded to be replaced by the
soft lighting of the Enterprise's transporter room. Will Riker's
deadpan greeting still rang in his ears, Beverly's desperate words in
his mind. He had turned to her, his thoughts rapidly communicating
themselves to her, his relief, her answering contentment, the release
of his stress and her overwhelming happiness. His hand had
automatically reached for hers, feeling complete only when the warmth
of her skin was against his. He'd watched Will Riker's puzzled
reaction to that, but he hadn't cared. His other half was with him,
safe now, and that was all that mattered. Her thoughts had mirrored
his, basking in his closeness, his oneness with her.

Sitting in his ready room, Jean-Luc allowed himself a deep sigh. How
much had changed in the last four days since the Prytt implants had
been removed. He wondered again how she could ignore what they had
been through and the things that had happened between them. Kesprytt
stuck into his heart like a thorn, there was no hope of just letting
it go. He had to see her.

He stopped before he entered her office. Sickbay was quiet, the hour
late. He should have gone off duty hours ago, and so should she. He
found it hard to adjust to the emptiness of his solitary thoughts when
he was alone and wondered if she felt the same way. A deep feeling of
regret washed over him. Did she miss it too? At this point in time,
the way things were between them, he feared would never know. He stood
at her door, feeling like a complete stranger to the woman with whom
had shared the greatest intimacy he had ever known.

Hearing him, she looked up with a smile that died on her lips as he
approached.

"Will you have dinner with me?" he asked softly, cutting to the chase.

"I. . . " she began and then stopped and sighed.

He looked at her closely, trying to fathom what was going on beneath
the superficial surface on the outside and was annoyed with his
blindness, his lack of perception, the emotional bond between them had
been severed days ago, and he knew with certainty the thoughts of the
woman before him had never been more of a mystery. He watched as she
looked away briefly before answering.

"I think I have too much work to go over, actually," her eyes were
back on his, "to even think about taking a break for dinner."

He looked down at the modest pile of padds on her desk and picked one
up. "You're telling me that you are too swamped to dine with me
tonight?"

"Well not just tonight. All this week is... I mean things are..." she
trailed off.

"Are what?" he asked, putting the padd back down and daring her to
continue.

"Very busy."

He grew quiet. He felt like they were two players in a farce, keeping
up a façade of civility, chatting away like polite acquaintances,
ignoring the looming derailment in front of them.

Beverly watched him nervously, not liking his silence one bit. A quiet
Jean-Luc was a dangerous Jean-Luc. She cleared her throat before
speaking. "So, I will be getting on with these reports, you have a
nice dinner, won't you?" She put her head down, dismissing him.

"No," he said softly.

She looked up, her eyes snapping back to his. "What?"

"I said no. This..." he gestured with his hands at her. "...has gone
on long enough."

She opened her mouth to protest, but he stopped her with a shake of
his head. "Dinner. My quarters. One hour," he said grimly. "We need to
talk."

Beverly watched as he turned on his heels and left. She closed her
eyes, remembering when they had not needed to use words, when
everything between them had been known and open. . . not like now. The
empty ache she had been trying to ignore for the last four days
returned to nip at her raw emotions. We need to talk. . . he'd said. She
looked at the padd she still held in her hand and scrolled down the
simple list of patients discharged from sickbay last month. She had
lied to him, telling him that the reports on these padds were more
important than him. He was right—they needed to talk. She sighed
deeply, but all she wanted to do right now was to banish Kesprytt to
the dark recesses of her mind and forget.

Supper was over. They had managed to avoid the subject that hung
between them like a black cloud for an hour now. Jean-Luc had listened
to her talk of matters medical, making appropriate noises every now
and then, and all the time he watched her, taking in the lines of
strain around her eyes, the tiredness he saw there.

"Haven't you been sleeping?"

She stopped mid sentence and looked down at her hands in her lap.

He followed the red gleam of her hair over her neck, remembering
briefly how soft her skin was there, before she looked up at him
again.

"Not very well, no," she admitted finally.

"I can tell."

Picking up her glass of wine, she smiled overly brightly. "Reading my
thoughts again, Jean-Luc?"

He took the opportunity to steer the conversation towards what was on
his mind. "I had. . .  become used to 'hearing' your thoughts." He watched
her reaction, expecting her to close herself off, change the subject.
But to his surprise, she did neither.

"So had I. It was very intimate, hearing you like that, feeling things
between us so deeply. What happened on Kesprytt was special." He
nodded and she looked down into her glass before continuing. "You
knew. . . I knew exactly what the other wanted." He studied her for a long
moment and then stood and moved closer to her. Beverly put down her
glass and looked up at him. She searched for the right words. "I can't
hear you anymore. I don't know what we want anymore."

He smiled, "Beverly, we don't need to read each other's minds to know
what we want now, what we wanted long before Kesprytt."

He watched the smile fade as she stood. "I think it is time I was
going."

"Beverly. . . " He reached for her, not wanting her to go, and wrapped his
arms around her loosely in a comforting impersonal embrace. For an
illogical split second, she resented it and wriggled away, but he
tightened his arms around her instinctively, holding her closer. For a
long moment they stood like that. Then suddenly, he bent his head to
kiss her. Their lips met and then parted, then met again with sudden
mutual heat, the shock of it drawing a deeply gratified response from
him. Can you feel it? he asked, but there was no answer from her, how
could there be? His arms dropped away suddenly and he stepped back
from her. "I shouldn't have done that," he said hoarsely. "There are
so many things I should never have done. I shouldn't have pushed you.
I shouldn't have forced you to reveal those things to me that night."

Beverly spoke gently. "You never forced me to do anything. I willingly
gave you my body that night." While I told you what was in my heart.

"That's all it was to you?" Please don't try and tell me that.

"All I know is that we acted... unlike our usual selves." I gave you
everything...

He sighed. "An aberration?" Why won't you trust me?

Beverly looked away. "I think it would be best all round to put it
down to that, yes." She looked back to him. Please tell me I'm wrong.

There was a heavy silence before he answered.

"All right, if you feel that would best." I can't accept that. I can't
escape what happened between us. What I felt then, what I still feel.
Can you tell me truly that wasn't in your heart too?

"I'm just not ready." Tell me that you are.

He felt his breath catch, not wanting to acknowledge her words. "We
never finished that game of yours." You never said that you'd leave
me. . . 

"We did well to get up to L." She smiled softly, "That was quite a
feat."

He chuckled softly. "I can't even remember H. . .  or K for that matter."

"You didn't feel it when we got to H? When we laid together by that
fire and I gave you my heart? That was our H." Beverly stepped closer
to him. "Do you need me to remind you of K?" Feel it now Jean-Luc, for
god's sake, don't let me leave.

"Yes," he answered simply. Remind me...

She reached forward and kissed him gently on the cheek, letting her
lips linger one last time. Kiss me... remember?

"No, I don't think that was quite right, K was much more like this."
And in explanation, he pulled her closer, his hands moving over her
back as he lowered his head, brushing his mouth over hers, feeling her
lips soften and part. Love me, Beverly... love me back. All I know,
all I believe in our relationship now was forged that night on
Kesprytt. Don't tear my hopes apart. His lips left hers and he exhaled
raggedly. "Don't go," he said softly. "Stay with me tonight."

Beverly stood, speechless, had he truly read her thoughts? Say yes!
her mind clamoured over and over, but still she couldn't speak.

He watched her, the mutual spell holding them in breathless silence,
everything that they had been through coming down to this one moment,
where anything was possible. The urge to touch her became overwhelming
and he reached out to push her hair aside and trace the line of her
shoulder.

"I want to stay," she whispered. "But... " She faltered and felt the
tears sting in her eyes. Tell me, Jean-Luc. Please, I need you to tell
me.

His eyes were on hers. "Stay because I want you to, because I need you
to..."

Tell me... Her tears fell freely now, and a sob caught in her heart.

"Stay because I love you," he finished softly.

The restless voice inside her stilled—all the doubts and reservations
suddenly irrelevant. "Yes," she said softly. The heavy burden of the
last few day lifted and she felt light, floating happily in the
certainty of her decision.

He gave her a cautious smile, not quite believing. "Are you sure?"

"Well, I suppose we really should fill in the rest of the letters in
the alphabet game before we get to S for sex." It was her turn to
smile. "That could take some time."

"M for more, N for now," he filled in briskly.

Beverly ran her hand down his chest. "And Q for quick! Jean-Luc you
really should pace yourself. . . Now O is for... " She sighed coyly. "I
can't think of a single thing." He leaned forward and whispered one
heat filled word lowly into her ear. "Why Captain, of course! That
fits nicely. Which naturally leads us to P for pleasure and..." She
got no further as his mouth covered hers and his hands slid down to
her behind pulling her towards him.

Holding her tightly, he nuzzled her ear. "I say we skip R."

"But I've told you, I like to finish what I start."

"So do I, now shut up, woman."

"Jean-Luc, don't be rude. Ha! There you go. That's R."

"You had to do that, didn't you?"

She closed her eyes and smiled before she answered, hearing the ocean
inside her call, willing it to take her deeper, knowing when she dove,
she would feel his arms reaching out to hold her, and this time
everything would be all right. "Yes. I truly did."

Then his lips were on hers, and she let the wave take her away.

---

The End

---

My eternal thanks to Wendy Rule for the music, Rumi for the poetry and
also to my dearest friend, she knows who she is—for the constant
encouragement and inspiration

	


Return to Top