The BLTS Archive- And I Have Run Away
by Trexphile (trxphile@cox.net)

---

DISCLAIMER: Paramount may own all the shuttles but, dammit, I'll go
where I want to go!

I was forced into writing this sequel after some angry BONCers wrote
me telling me that the ending of "Runaway" was not acceptable  :)
I owe them my gratitude, as always.  I just love you guys  :)

Feedback appreciated, constructive please.

January 1998

---

The fireplace was cold.  She stood before it, debating on whether she
should make the effort of lighting a fire.  It was springtime in
Scotland, the days pleasant and comfortable.  Night, however, brought
on the chilling winds and the small cottage, heated only by an
antiquated furnace, could get uncomfortably chilly after the sun went
down.

Beverly knelt on the hearth.  Starting a fire would take some effort
and time -- did she really want to expend the effort it would take to
light it, to maintain it?

She laughed aloud, the harshness of the bitter chuckle startling the
silence of the room.  It really wouldn't be all that difficult to get
a fire going -- the wood was already there, along with the appropriate
kindling and the matches.  A simple task, really, the difficulty lying
in waiting patiently for the flames to grow, in coaxing it into
full-burning life.

She sighed and rose slowly to her feet.  Disgusted with herself, she
pushed away from the fireplace and folded herself into the large
wingbacked chair facing the hearth.  'I can't even complete a simple
task like lighting a fire.' She propped her elbows on her knees and
dug her fingertips into her scalp, staring at the cold hearth.  'You
think too much, Beverly -- you always have.'  Her state of indecision
about the fire was just another example of her current confusion over
seemingly everything else in her life, most especially ...

'Why didn't I just say it?  Why didn't I step down from that damned
platform and go to him and ask him to come with me?'  She laughed
bitterly again. 'Because, Beverly, you started thinking about it,
about what might happen if he said yes, if he said no ....'

'He wouldn't have said no ...'  The small voice whispered, a
flittering butterfly against her ear, inside her head.  'He would have
come.'

She closed her eyes and hung her head, rolling into a tight ball,
sinking into the chair.  Yes, he would have come, just as surely as
she had wanted him to come.  The answer had been there in his eyes as
he had stood behind the transporter console, awaiting the question
that had never been voiced. It would have been so simple -- just a few
words, a spark, and the fire would have come to life.

It was too late now -- she was here in Scotland, he was in France.
Hardly any distance at all, considering the almost immeasurable
distances they traversed daily.  They might as well have been galaxies
apart now, however.

"Too late now," she murmured as the shadows lengthened.  She closed
her eyes and their last time spent together onboard the Enterprise
began to replay in her mind.

---

"Have you made any specific plans for shore leave?"

She looked up from her breakfast plate.  "Specific?  Well ... I've
made arrangements to rent a small cottage close to my family's
ancestral home. I've only visited the area once before and thought it
would be a nice place to 'escape' to."  She smiled over the rim of her
teacup.

He nodded, unsmiling.  "Any plans while you're there?"

"Hmmm ... well, unfortunately the 'escape' won't be total one -- I
still have so much to catch up on.  All those reports still due, some
correspondence I've neglected for too long .... "  She dropped her
gaze.  "It's unfortunate, for me anyway, that this leave is only four
days long.      I'll probably just get finished with my work and then
have to report back."

"Yes, I know what you mean.  Along with the reports I have to finish
up, I promised Marie that I would look into some vineyard business
while I was there."

"Ah.  So you'll be in LaBarre?"

"Yes."

Silence.  She finished her tea and set the cup down, then wiped her
mouth with her napkin.  An impulse gripped her suddenly, so strongly
that she had to blink a couple of times to clear her vision.

'Do it.  Invite him to come to Scotland, if only for one day.'  She
swallowed and busied herself with pouring another cup of tea that she
didn't want, stalling for time as her thoughts raced.  'He could
always take care of his Starfleet business there.  And when that's
taken care of, it will be just the two of us with nothing else to
interfere -- no Federation or starship, no sickbay or bridge or
protocol ....'  She took too large a sip of tea, coming close to
scalding her mouth.  'Do it, Beverly.  Now.'

She set down her cup, looked at him and opened her mouth to speak.

He spoke.  "It's really been too long since I've been home.  I'm
really looking forward to spending some time reacquainting myself with
the place."

She closed her mouth and nodded, the words dead within her.  Her mask
smiled at him.

He looked up at her across the table, watching as she sat back in her
chair and fiddled with her teacup.  She looked at him again.

Their gazes locked for a long moment.

He wiped his mouth with his napkin and laid it on his plate, then
tasted his tea.  It was cold.  He had just set his cup back down when
she was there, leaning forward, teapot in hand, already pouring him
more.  He thanked her and took the full cup.

He smiled inwardly at her anticipation of his needs.  So many times it
seemed as if she could read his thoughts.  His heart quickened at his
next thought.

'She could come with me to France.  Perhaps not the full four days,
but she could still get some of her work done there.  She could spend
some time in Scotland and then perhaps she would be willing to visit
after that.'  He hid behind his teacup, contemplating the centerpiece
as his thoughts tumbled, plans forming and dissipating just as
quickly.        He wanted desperately to bring her to LaBarre, to let
her see his home without the spectre of death hanging over it. And
away from all the familiar trappings of every day, without the safe
parameters of their established relationship, maybe, just maybe ...

He set his cup down.  "Beverly," he began.  She looked at him,
waiting.

Her commbadge chirped.  "Cho to Dr. Crusher."

Beverly smiled wryly and tapped her commbadge.  "Crusher here.  Go
ahead."

"Sir, I have an incoming message for you from the surface -- a Donald
Stewart."

"Thank you, Lieutenant.  Please route it to my quarters."  She rose
and sighed.  "It's the owner of the cottage I'm renting.  I suppose he
wants to finalize the arrangements."  She put her dishes in the
recycler.  "At least," she continued as she turned back, "I hope
that's what this is about.  I certainly don't want him to tell me that
the place has burned down or something!  That would definitely ruin my
plans for this leave!"  She laughed lightly and moved toward the door.

He rose to escort her, his face a smiling mask as inside his heart
sank.  'She has plans, of course she does.  She's visiting her
ancestral home -- she'll be much too busy to consider an invitation
from me.'

They stopped as the doors opened.

"Thank you for breakfast, Jean-Luc," she said softly, then leaned in
and kissed him lightly on the cheek.  "Enjoy your leave."

"Yes," he whispered.  "You do the same."

A trace, a flicker, something shimmered across her face for only a
moment -- something he could only define as disappointment ... or was
he reading more into it than he should, seeing what he wanted to see
....

The doors closed as she left, leaving him alone.

---

The sun was setting over the vineyards.  Jean-Luc walked slowly
through the rows of young plants, not even seeing them.

He stopped abruptly, memories overwhelming him.  Here -- right here
....  This exact spot was where he and Robert had had their last
confrontation, the one that had culminated in them rolling in the mud
like a couple of children.

He stooped and fingered the dirt, images rising in his mind.  He
allowed himself only a few moments of reflection, then rose and
brushed the dirt from his hands.  He continued on back to the silent,
waiting house.

After an early supper, he bid Marie an early good night and retired to
his room.  "His" room -- the place no longer felt like it belonged to
him.    He had been gone too long       -- the ties were no longer
there, despite how much he wanted them to be.

He sat in a chair facing the window, looking out into the cooling
darkness. From his vantage point, he could just see the stars
beginning to appear, the stars that were now his home.  And at this
moment, so much closer than the stars and yet so far away ... she was
there, somewhere in the darkness. Untouchable, unreachable.

He closed his eyes.  "Beverly," he whispered.  Coming back to his
childhood home had only confirmed what he had dreaded -- that he no
longer had a connection to this place, that his real home was
elsewhere, out in the vast unbounded reaches of space.  The last ties
had been severed by the deaths of his brother and nephew -- his family
wasn't here anymore.  *She* was his family, his home, his love.
Perhaps that was why he felt so alone here, so distant.  She wasn't
here with him, giving him a reason to fall in love with this place
again.

He saw her again, in his mind, standing on the transporter pad, her
eyes pleading with him.  He had ignored those eyes and the urgings of
his heart and she was now gone, irretrievable.  But was she really?
He didn't understand why he felt it so strongly -- that this was
somehow their last chance to set their futures.  Although the feeling
was inexplicable, he couldn't ignore it.  He had to do something
before Destiny finally decided to turn her back on them once and for
all.

He opened his eyes and looked up at the stars.  One twinkled back at
him, more brightly than those around it.  Silently, he cast his wish
upwards, hoping to be heard and answered.

He stood, stretched his legs and retrieved his bag from the closet.
After setting it on the bed, he sat before the computer monitor and
went to work.

---

As the sun rose above the Channel, two shuttles passed each other.

---

The shuttleport at LaBarre was crowded and noisy, even at this early
hour. Beverly shifted her luggage and began the tedious journey
through the crowd. As she exited the building, she took a deep
cleansing breath and, smiling for the first time in many hours, began
the last leg of her journey.

---

The wind was cooler than he had expected and he pulled his jacket
tighter, readjusting his bag where it hung on his shoulder.  The 'port
was quiet and he made his way inside quickly.

Realizing suddenly that he had no idea where he was going, he looked
around and spotted a lone ticket agent behind the counter.

The man looked up, smiling at his approach.  "May I help you, sir?" he
asked in a pleasant Scots burr.

"Yes, I hope so.  I'm needing directions to a -- well, I believe it's
a cottage, one belonging to Donald Stewart."

The agent nodded.  "Yes, I know the place you speak of.  It would be
about a kilometer or so away.  Would you like for me to arrange
transport for you, then?"

"A kilometer?" Picard questioned.  "Can the way be traversed on foot?"

"Aye, sir, that it can."  The man looked out the front doors.  "The
weather should be pleasant enought -- although a mite breezy."  He
came out from around the counter and walked to the doors, Picard
following.

"Follow this road here westward until you come to another lane.  Take
that one to the right and it will lead you directly to the cottage."
He smiled at Jean-Luc and cocked his head.  "Will you be staying at
the Stewart place then?"

Jean-Luc cleared his throat, suddenly uncomfortable.  "Yes, yes, I
will."

The man nodded knowingly.  "I'd heard that old Stewart had let the
place out for a brief time, although it was my understanding that it
was being let to a woman.       Would that be your wife, then, that's
already taken up residence?" He paused, waiting for Picard's response.

Jean-Luc had no intention of imparting any more information than he
desired. He merely nodded and stepped forward, hoping to end the
conversation.

The man chuckled and called out as Picard exited.  "Well, sir -- have
a pleasant journey.  Wouldn't want to keep your wife waiting now,
would you?"

Jean-Luc walked briskly, not acknowledging the agent's last words,
already intent on his destination.

---

She rounded the final curve on the road to the Picard home.  It had
been some years now since she'd travelled it but it was still familiar
to her.

She could see the house ahead in the distance and as her heart sped
up, her pace slowed.  Her prior confidence began to slip away, doubts
beginning to rise. 'Perhaps I should have called first,' she thought.
'He never has cared much for surprises.'  She stopped and shifted the
heavy bag to the other shoulder, not quite yet ready to continue.

With a sigh, she moved to the side of the road and dropped her bag
beneath a tree, then sat down beside it.        Leaning back against
the hard trunk, she closed her eyes.  'Why this uncertainty all of a
sudden?  A few hours ago, I was positive about what I was doing.'  An
image floated before her closed eyes -- his face as he stood behind
the transporter console, preparing to beam her away, the anguish there
invisible to others but so clear to her. Had she read more into that
look than she should have?

She pushed her doubts away as she stood and picked up her bag.
Shouldering her burden again, she raised her chin resolutely and set
off again.

---

The door refused to open, even after his third knock.  He hesitated,
then moved to a window beside the door, shading his eyes as he peered
into the dark interior. He could see nothing stirring inside.

He tried the handle again, knowing it still wouldn't budge.

"She's not here," he murmured, the act of saying it aloud confirming
it.

Dropping his bag on the small stoop, he stepped down and walked slowly
around the tiny building.  He was at a loss, having no idea of what to
do next.  He circled the place slowly, searching for something
familiar, something of Beverly.  He came back around to the front and
sat down heavily on the step.

Obviously, he had been wrong in his perceptions.  She had not been
pining away for him here, had not been alone and miserable as he had
been in LaBarre.  He sighed and took in the beauty of the Scottish
countryside, hoping that, wherever she was, she was happy.

He picked up his bag and started back for the town.

---

She took a deep breath and knocked.  She heard footsteps approaching
and readied herself.

She smiled when she saw Marie.

"Dr. Crusher?"

"Yes, Mrs. Picard."

Marie opened the door wider to allow Beverly entrance.  "It's a
pleasure to see you again, Doctor!"  Marie beckoned for Beverly to
enter.

"Please -- it's Beverly."

"Of course, Beverly.  And feel free to call me Marie."  She stepped
back, observing the taller woman for a moment, her smile fading just a
bit.  "I assume you're here to see Jean-Luc?"

Beverly's heart skipped.  "Yes, I am."

Marie shook her head, smiling sympathetically.  "I'm sorry, Beverly,
but he's not here.  He left early this morning and he didn't tell me
where he was going.  He packed a bag so I assumed he was planning on
being gone for at least the night."  She shook her head again.  "It's
not like Jean-Luc to be so secretive but since he didn't offer any
explanation, I didn't press him for any details."

Beverly tried to hide her disappointment as a dull ache began in her
chest. "Well ... I suppose I should have called first.  I should
probably be getting back ..."  She felt suddenly very uncomfortable,
an intruder in a place where she obviously wasn't wanted.

"Here."  Marie reached out and lifted the bag from Beverly's shoulder.
"There's no need in you rushing off so soon."  She set the bag down
beside the coatrack.  "Can't you stay long enough for some tea at
least?"

Beverly smiled and, taking a deep breath, nodded.  "Of course, Marie.
Thank you for the invitation."

Marie squeezed Beverly's shoulder briefly and led the way into the
kitchen.

---

Jean-Luc re-entered the shuttleport.  There were a few more people
present this time -- four more, to be exact.  He approached the ticket
counter.

A young woman stood behind the counter this time, looking very
professional and formal.

"May I be of service, sir?"

"Passage to LaBarre, France, please.  On the next available
transport."

She merely nodded and punched in the information on her monitor.
Jean-Luc watched her as she  worked briskly, feeling suddenly very old
and tired.  He thought of asking whether Beverly had taken a shuttle
anywhere from this station but decided to just let it go.       He
didn't want to know anymore.

"Your passage has been arranged, sir," she said after a few minutes.
"You'll be departing from this terminal in two hours and ten minutes."

He frowned.  "That long?"

She gave him a sober look.  "Well, we're not exactly the most popular
place on the Earth.  There's not that much traffic going in and out
here."

"Yes, of course.  I understand."  He picked up his bag, eager to get
away, to find some quiet corner where he could wait in brooding
silence.

She handed him the ticket.  "Thank you, sir.  Enjoy your trip."

He only nodded his acknowledgement as he turned away.

---

Beverly had spent most of the last two hours roaming the Picard
estate, taking in the early spring beauty.  She and Marie had had a
nice chat over tea, she had made arrangements from the home terminal
for her return trip, and then Marie had left her alone to explore the
place by herself.

Beverly walked through the dark barn, breathing in the lightly sweet
scent of the hay, the more pungent yet pleasant smell of horses.  This
was her last stop before returning to the house.  She settled against
a large bale of hay, ignoring the prickling of the straw against her
back.  She stared into the shadows, attempting to conjure up an image
of a young Jean-Luc tending to the horses, preparing to ride.  She had
done this repeatedly as she'd traversed the grounds, trying to bring
Jean-Luc and this place together in her mind, trying to build the
connection between the man that she loved and the place he'd always
called his home.        Everytime, however, she would find her mind
drifting, would see, not one figure, but two --  she and Jean-Luc,
together, sharing his home and the memories that whispered all around
it.

Suddenly she felt so very tired.  She leaned back against the hay
bale, drawing her strength together so that she could stand and walk
back to the house.  She rose slowly, feeling stiff and old.

She ignored her surroundings as she made her way back to the house,
tired of seeing the possibilities that she was convinced now would
never come to pass.

---

The 'port at LaBarre seemed even more crowded than before, if that was
possible.  Jean-Luc made his way slowly down the short hallway from
the shuttle to the terminal, the crowds inhibiting him from walking as
fast as he wanted.  As he entered the terminal, he looked around.  The
place was full -- some rushing past, others sitting and waiting
patiently, some even strolling casually through.  It seemed that
everyone was with someone else, that he was the only soul in the place
that was alone.  He moved with the crowd, too slowly, ready to be away
from this place.

Out of the corner of his eye, close to the entrance, he thought he saw
a familar flash of rouged gold among the other heads that bobbed past.
Desperately, he searched the crowd again, his heart thumping.

He muttered under his breath and dropped his gaze.  'Fool ... why
would she be here?'

He concentrated on the back of the person in front of him, moving
slowly, waiting.

A line of children passed through, blocking his progress yet again.
He watched them as they laughed by him, wishing he could share their
exuberance.

---

She sighed as she walked through the doors and saw the crowded 'port.
She checked the departure times on the screens, took a deep breath and
blended into the flow.

The way was slow.  She wondered yet again why there were so many
people in LaBarre.  It didn't make sense to her -- LaBarre wasn't
really that big of a place.     It was basically a village.  Just
another one of those mysteries of the universe, she decided wearily
and continued working her way through the crowds toward her terminal.

She was stopped by a long line of rambunctious children, all probably
setting out on a field trip of some sort.  She sighed and turned
around, looking for a different way to go.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a shock of long red hair.
She turned back and looked into the smiling hazel eyes of a young
girl.  The girl kept eye contact with her, grinning shyly as she
passed by, bringing up the rear of the line.  Beverly's gaze followed
the girl's head until she disappeared into the crowd.

She turned back and looked straight into another pair of hazel eyes.

Her heart froze.

---

His heart froze.

The words almost didn't make it out of his mouth.  "Beverly?"

She was there.  She was actually there, standing in front of him.
Everything else around him, all sight and sound, faded away.

They approached each other slowly, stopping a short distance apart.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

She reddened slightly.  "I ... came to see you."

"When?"

"This morning.  About three hours ago, something like that."

"Three hours ago? ..."

"Where did you go?  Marie said you didn't tell her."

"I ..."  His cheeks turned just a bit pink.  He cleared his throat.
"I went to your house.  In Scotland."

Her mouth dropped open.  "You did?"

He nodded.

"Jean-Luc --"

Suddenly they were knocked into each other, scrambling for balance.

"Oh excuse me!  I'm sorry!"  A young man, retreating rapidly, called
back over his shoulder at them.

Beverly smiled slightly as she quickly recovered her composure, her
hand on Jean-Luc's shoulder.  His hand was resting on her hip where
he'd instinctively grabbed as they'd been thrust against each other so
abruptly.

She looked into his eyes as her smile faded away.  He was looking back
at her intently, his hand still on her hip, his expression full of
wonder.  She squeezed his shoulder, verifying that he was really
there, feeling herself being drawn into him through his eyes.

"Perhaps we should get out of the main thoroughfare ..." she breathed,
her hand moving up to the back of his neck.

"Yes, perhaps we should," he replied as his arm moved around,
encircling her back.

They stood like this for only a few moments and then, no longer able
to hold back, finally gave in.  Their lips met tentatively, tenderly.
They pulled back for just a moment, then kissed again, fully, sealing
their destiny, ending the journey.

Reluctantly, they broke the kiss.  They embraced each other fully,
cheeks pressed together as the crowd flowed around them.

"Where do we go now?" he whispered against her ear.

"Well, I know of a place in Scotland that might do," she whispered
back.

He kissed her cheek and they took hands and started through the crowd
toward the ticket counter.

---

"Jean-Luc, we don't need a fire."

He turned from where he squatted beside the fireplace, match in hand,
and raised an inquisitive eyebrow at Beverly.  She was reclining on
the couch, covered with a blanket and giving him a mischievous look.

"What are you talking about, Beverly?  It's cold in here!  I can
almost see my breath!"  He exhaled through his mouth to prove his
point.

"Oh, you big baby," she laughed.  "It's not that cold.  And besides --
there are other ways to keep warm."  She pulled the blanket away
languidly, revealing her naked skin.  She whispered huskily,  "Come
over here and keep me warm."

He tossed the unlit match aside and went to her.

---

The End