The BLTS Archive- Jewelry and Bleeding Hearts: Never Dance by Trexphile (trxphile@cox.net) --- ARCHIVE: Yes to ASC. If you'd like this one, please ask me first. AUTHOR'S NOTES: This started out as an answer to zoinky's Valentine challenge many moons ago, then morphed into something else. The fifth and final part is not yet written, but after much angsting on my part, I decided to go ahead and post the four parts that are finished. I've attempted to write each part in a different style, utilizing varying POVs and tenses. DISCLAIMER: Paramount owns all. Song lyric acknowledgments will be included in the final post. June 2000 --- Yea, though we ventured through the valley of the stars You in all your jewelry and my bleeding heart Who couldn't be together and who could not be apart Thought that you'd done everything You didn't have a clue --- And the band played Songs that we had never heard But we danced anyway Never understood the words We just sang La la la la la la la la --- "I never dance. You know that." Beverly shifted to look past his smiling face. The dancers whirled beneath the drooping strings of tiny white lights, colors flashing to life and disappearing again as they moved. The music slipped sinuously amongst them, mixing with their laughter and raucous voices, stirring them into a tempting concoction that Beverly longed to taste. She tasted her drink instead, holding the strong rum-flavored beverage in her mouth, letting it burn for a moment before swallowing. She finally looked at Jean-Luc again. His eyes met hers. "What are you afraid of?" she asked. He tilted his head slightly, his smile never wavering. "Nothing. But you know that I don't dance. I've never been at ease on a dance floor. And I'm not very good." Beverly leaned forward, focusing intently on his eyes. "Then why are we even here if we're not going to dance?" He indicated the table with a regal wave of his hand. "The food, the drink. I thought the sea bass was excellent, didn't you? And the atmosphere is so very relaxing. Santa Marta is really beautiful, don't you think?" She took a deep calming breath. "Yes, Jean-Luc, it's lovely. It's all been lovely and I've enjoyed spending time with you here but NOW I want to enjoy the music." She watched his eyes dart over toward the dance floor then back to her. "We don't have to dance to enjoy the music," he said deliberately, then looked back toward the dancers. She stifled the sarcastic remark that wanted to explode out of her and sat back instead, idly drawing patterns in the condensation on her glass. Ever since his short-lived fiasco with Anij, Jean-Luc had been much more attentive. At first, Beverly was wary, figuring that he was simply feeling guilty for abandoning her, and she kept her distance. Jean-Luc was persistent, however, and she slowly began to realize that he was sincere in his affections, that he truly missed the friendship that they'd once had. They fell back into their old habits -- shared breakfasts every morning, most evenings spent together relaxing in quarters, the occasional appearance together at a Starfleet function. They rediscovered their friendship and the comfort level they used to share -- they hadn't been as close since before the encounter with the Borg and Zefram Cochrane. And it was something that Beverly welcomed. She hadn't realized how much she had missed Jean-Luc. When the Enterprise returned to Earth for some system upgrades, he'd asked her to accompany him on shore leave. They had never spent a leave together and, flattered and a little apprehensive, she agreed to his offer. After some discussion, they'd settled on Santa Marta, Colombia. The city of almost 300,000 residents had been destroyed during WWIII and the Santa Marta that had sprung from the ashes had been rebuilt on a much smaller scale. Unlike many restored cities, Santa Marta had been rebuilt as it must have appeared in the seventeenth century with winding roads and houses built of native brick and tile. Coconut palms swayed overhead and the air tasted of sea salt and bananas. It was utterly charming, and a welcome change from the homogenous style that graced most of Earth's new cities. Beverly adored the town. For the last two mornings she'd awakened at dawn to watch the sun rise from the veranda she shared with Jean-Luc's room. They'd spent the first day exploring the town and surrounding countryside. That first night they'd been too tired to experience the nightlife, but Beverly had told Jean-Luc the second morning that she wanted to dine out and dance to the music she'd heard wafting through her open window late the night before. He'd agreed, and so here they were. Here they were -- with the music enticing her and no partner to join her. She glanced across the table where he sat, oblivious to her growing frustration. Despite her deep affection for him, Jean-Luc Picard could still be damned exasperating. It was time to assert herself. She gripped her drink tightly, then upended the glass and drank down the last half of the spicy rum in two gulps. She ignored her flip-flopping stomach and stood. She moved around the table and faced Jean-Luc who was looking up at her with an amused expression. She extended her hand palm-up, her arm rigid. "Dance with me, Jean-Luc." "Beverly, I told you--" "Jean-Luc!" She wanted to stomp her feet like a child. She watched as his face creased into a huge smile. "I'd love to." Her arm went boneless and flopped to her side. "What?" He chuckled softly as he stood, taking her hand. He leaned in and whispered against her ear. "I'm sorry, but you're so delicious when you get agitated." Delicious? She opened her mouth but nothing came out. Mute, she let him lead her onto the dance floor. They stood for a moment, watching the dancers whirling past them. Beverly saw Jean-Luc's questioning look and she closed her eyes, opening herself up to the music, letting it penetrate her and start pulsing through her blood. It was so very sensual, this music -- heavily syncopated, the horns brassy and bold, the guitar thrumming, the male singer's voice rising high over it all, his words lilting, their meaning incomprehensible to her. "Beverly?" The word was uttered close to her ear. She snapped her eyes open to see Jean-Luc's face only inches from hers, his eyebrows raised in a question. She answered by taking his left hand in her right and placing her left hand on his shoulder. His left hand moved to her waist -- and then he just stood there looking at her. "Come on, Jean-Luc. Dance with me." She started swaying and after a moment he cautiously mimicked her movements. His brow was creased in concentration, his gaze fluttering through the crowd. Apparently he was having second thoughts. Beverly leaned in, pressing against him as she whispered. "You don't have to look like you're hating every second of this, Jean-Luc. Indulge me. You might decide you actually like it." She lingered longer than necessary, breathing in his scent, her breasts pressed against his hard chest. She was so tempted to press her lips against his neck, to trail her tongue along his earlobe. She pulled back instead and saw that his expression was no longer agonized. He was actually smiling at her again. And there was something else lurking beneath that smile, something that made her tingle right down to her toes. "I don't know the steps," he said, a bit huskily. "It doesn't matter. Just let the music lead you." She nodded toward the other dancers. "Anything goes, Jean-Luc." They were still just swaying, barely moving their feet. He was looking off into the distance as if thinking and then suddenly he moved his hand to the small of her back and pulled her closer. Before she could take a deep breath, he began moving more aggressively, following the rhythm. She followed his lead automatically, her brain scrambling to catch up. He wasn't dancing any particular dance -- he was doing just what she'd suggested, letting the music guide him. Delight was swelling within her like an effervescent bubble. She truly adored dancing with a skilled partner. And Jean-Luc, contrary to his earlier protestations, was definitely skilled. A quick half-turn and she was moving forward. Another and she was once again gliding backward. She laughed aloud and was rewarded by a chuckle from Jean-Luc. "That's very nice, Jean-Luc, but can you do a full turn?" The words were barely out of her mouth when she found herself being whirled around. Then again, and again, until she was laughing with delight. "Will that suffice?" he said against her ear and she could only laugh and nod. They continued dancing this way, each becoming more attuned to the other, their movements blending into a fluid, rhythmic whole. By the time the song was over, they were both laughing and out of breath. They applauded along with the crowd and Jean-Luc looked at Beverly intently. "I must say, that went quite well. Shall we continue?" She nodded as the musicians began again. They danced for a long time. Together they let the music guide their steps -- sometimes fast and whirling giddily, other times slow and more sultry. At one point, they sang the chorus along with the vocalist, joining their voices with the rest of the crowd, laughing so that they could hardly sing, with no idea of what the words meant. Beverly discarded any inhibitions she might have entertained about being so physically close to Jean-Luc and let him set the pace and guide her body. She was being consumed by the sensuality of it all and she wasn't about to let anything distract her from enjoying it. Another song ended and they stood arm in arm and a bit breathless as the singer announced, in the first words of Standard that he'd spoken all night, that the next piece would be the last of the evening's performance. The instruments began again, just the bass and percussion creating a slow sensual beat. As the other instruments joined in, Jean-Luc looked at Beverly, who nodded, and they took hold of each other again. This music didn't suggest twirling or even steps. This music was visceral, pulsing deep within Beverly and as Jean-Luc took up the rhythm, she could feel it pulsing from him as well. Together they swayed, hips moving in sync, left to right, circling just enough for their bodies to touch, then pulling away to begin again. She could feel her pulse throbbing, could hear the blood rushing in her head. She realized suddenly that every dance had led up to this one. And that this final dance would signify either the end of the evening or the beginning of a night that they would share together. And she also realized that she would be the one to decide which it would be. She made her decision. Stepping in so that her body was against his, she moved both hands to the back of his neck. She watched as his eyes widened briefly, then felt his hands move to the small of her back. He faltered in his rhythm for a moment and she pressed against him more firmly, keeping the movement going. "Beverly?" he said, his voice tinged with a moan. "Sshhh..." she responded. "This is our last dance." Never breaking eye contact, he gripped her even tighter, his fingers splaying out and kneading their way down, down until they cupped her buttocks. She gasped at the sudden lust in his eyes and the hard bulge that was now grinding against her so rhythmically. She tilted her head back and sighed from the raw pleasure of it all, drunk with sensation. She felt his hot lips against her throat and she was not surprised at all by their touch. She leaned into him even more, still moving to the rhythm of the music, and he buried his face in her neck, marking her with lips and teeth. When his mouth moved up to hers, she consumed it hungrily. She didn't care that she was in a public place -- there was nothing but his touch and his heat and him. They no longer pretended to dance -- if their clothes had suddenly fallen away, they would have rutted where they stood and she still wouldn't have given the crowd a second thought. And then the music was over. Slowly, amidst the loud applause of the other people, they separated and just stood staring at each other. Breathing heavily, Beverly finally managed to speak. "I think... I've danced enough." "Yes," he said simply and led her from the floor. --- In her room, she stood in the muted light of the moonlight from the window as he undressed her. She could feel herself trembling as his eyes roamed her naked body. Silently he undressed then stood before her, the moon silvering his skin, making her ache from the beauty of it all. "Beverly," he said softly, his fingers reaching out to brush across her cheek, "dance with me again?" And she took him into her arms. --- And I'll never dance the way that he moved me Never kiss the way that he kissed me Never love the way that he loved me How can I dance now? Never knew the heat of desire Never knew the flames could go higher Never felt the passion, the fire Now let me dance again --- The End