The BLTS Archive- Vienna
by Trexphile (trxphile@cox.net)

---

DISCLAIMER: For all I know, Paramount/Viacom owns Vienna.  It owns all
the good stuff, after all, in particular the characters in the
following story.  Personally, I think I've made them just a little
better.  


AUTHOR'S NOTES:  Where would I be without my spectacular beta readers?  
Bevster, my Bubbie, you don't miss a thing, do you?  Zoinky, thanks
for  your input too.  Both of you were honest, and I think we made it
better.   Many thanks also go to Celia, Erin, Ang and Martha for their
enthusiasm.

This story was inspired by Linda Eder's rendition of Frank Wildhorn
and  Gary Benson's "Vienna."  I still get chills every time I hear the
Gracious Diva sing this.

November 1999

---

Her coffee was cold.  She hadn't noticed.

It was raining again, a gentle summer rain that softened and blurred
her  view of the street outside the window.  The mid-afternoon clamor
of the  outside world had been muted as well, filtered by the soothing
sibilance of water on leaves and pavement. 

From her corner of the café, Beverly stared out the window, oblivious
to  her surroundings.  All around her, people chattered and laughed,
indulging  in coffee and pastry and gossip.  It was a cozy little
place, warm and lively.

She sat in her cold quiet corner, aware only of her memories.

Out there, yes, right at the intersection of those two streets.  The
sudden shower had caught them unprepared, and they had run for the
nearest shelter they could find, their laughter mixing with the rain
as it washed over them.  Clutching each other, they had stood in the
café's doorway, just watching the drops fall.  Then the door had
opened and the aroma of coffee and fresh-baked pastry had enticed them
to enter.

That night had been the beginning.

She wrapped both hands around the cold cup and squeezed, idly
wondering if it would shatter, if she would feel the pain when the
shards slashed into her palms, whether she would bleed.

She doubted it.  She had nothing left to bleed.

---
Just two months before...
---

Another tedious Starfleet conference, mandatory and seemingly
interminable, was finally ending.  They had met in Vienna, all the
admirals so proud of their new Federation building, a shiny atrocity
in the middle of a city that glittered with the charm of days long
past.

She had never seen Vienna and now with two full weeks of shore leave 
stretching before her, she knew that she wouldn't leave this city
until the two weeks were up.  Her plan was to immerse herself in the
beauty and history, to disappear into a past that she barely knew.

And then he'd offered to stay with her.

She was unprepared for his proposal -- she had assumed that he would
spend his leave in LaBarre.  And she surprised herself by agreeing,
hoping that she wouldn't regret it.

They met for a late lunch after the conference concluded, at a
restaurant where they were served bratwurst and real beer and heavenly
coffee by a laughing Austrian woman who claimed descent from the
Hapsburgs.  Already Beverly could feel herself slipping into another
time, the Starfleet uniform she still wore a curious anachronism.

She refused Jean-Luc's suggestion that they take a guided tour of the
city.  "Too perfunctory.  I want to experience Vienna in my own way,"
she said.  He didn't argue with her and she marveled secretly at his
quick acquiescence.  Where was the Jean-Luc Picard who needed
discussion of all possibilities before agreeing to a course of action? 
She was delighted and intrigued, ready for whatever lay in store.

The first day they explored the Innere Stadt where the glory and
majesty of old Vienna still prevailed.  The Imperial Palace,
Parliament, the State Opera House -- all beckoned to them, drawing
them in and depositing them into the past more easily than a temporal
anomaly.  Jean-Luc was as overwhelmed by it all as she, his love of
history making him the perfect companion.  As they absorbed more of
what Vienna had to offer, the present melted away even more, along
with the emotional barriers they both maintained so well.

They were no longer Starfleet officers.  The long friendship that they
had ignored for some time now, the genuine affection that they felt
for each other was reawakened, enhancing the time they spent together.

As Beverly stood in St. Stephen's cathedral, amazed at the beauty and 
grandeur, she felt Jean-Luc's arms encircle her from behind and she
was not startled, nor did she pull away.  It felt natural.  It felt
right.

They couldn't explore the city every day.  There was too much to take
in, and they didn't want to overload their senses.  So there were days
when they simply walked the streets and talked.  They would stroll
past shops and restaurants, sometimes entering to sample the wares. 
The days were pleasant -- it was July, and the weather temperate with
short summer rains interrupting every other day or so.  The city
tasted of rain and coffee and sweet pastry, the air redolent with the
scent of warm paving stones and freshly washed oak leaves.  Beverly
soaked it up, letting her senses carry her along.

Some days they would stock up on fruit and sausage and wine, and
picnic in one of the parks.  One day they ventured beyond the city
boundaries and spent the day hiking through the trees until they found
a clearing.  They sat and talked and napped in the sun, and when
Beverly awoke, she was lying with her head on Jean-Luc's chest, their
legs entwined.  His hand cupped her cheek and she looked into his eyes
and smiled, sated with contentment.

They touched each other freely now.  They walked hand-in-hand through
the streets, he would guide her ahead of him through doors with his
hand on the small of her back.  She no longer held back when she felt
the urge to touch his hand or face.  She began to anticipate these
touches, refusing to analyze them, just freeing herself to the
sensations that each new caress stirred.

On the sixth night, he kissed her goodnight outside her door.  It was
a  simple kiss, light and soft that lasted only a second.  When he
drew back, she could see in his eyes what she'd heard in his mind on
Kesprytt and she yielded when his lips met hers again.  This time she
was not afraid to take what he offered.

The second kiss lasted much longer, held more passion.  But they
didn't  pursue that passion. It wasn't yet time.

She stood before her mirror that night, aware that she was standing on
the cusp of a renewal.  She knew that she would be the one to decide
whether to move forward, just like before.  But that time -- that
Beverly -- was lightyears away now.  She could feel no connection to
that frightened, indecisive woman. She was living in another world
now.

It would happen.  And when it did, she would embrace it.

It happened during a summer shower.  Dripping and laughing, they
followed the waitress to a small corner table next to the windows. 
They warmed up with coffee and lieb kuchen, their fingers dancing
together.

He reached across the tiny table and brushed a rain-dampened strand of
hair from her cheek.

"I love you like this," he said.

"Like this?  All wet and bedraggled?"

"No.  Happy."

She clasped his hand in hers and whispered, "You make me happy."

They spent the rest of that day and night in her bed.  It seemed to
her  that she was living a dream where time and the universe had
stopped and  there was nothing but the two of them.  Vienna no longer
existed outside -- it was now inside, in him.  In his lips as they
whispered against her ear; in his fingers as they touched her, making
her arch and cry out; in his entire body as he thrust into her and
trembled; in his voice as he cried her name.  And in his tears that
mixed with her own as they lay together, marveling at the Vienna they
had created.

They went out rarely that last week, finding that the city's beauty
had  dulled and diminished in comparison to what they had.  When they
sat at a concert, she could hear only his voice declaring his love. 
When they  shared a meal, she could taste only him.  The grandeur of
the churches  along the old Ringstrasse couldn't compare to the glory
of his face as he slept beside her.

For her, he was Vienna.

That little café became their new connection to the city.  They
returned  every day to the same corner table to watch the rain and
each other.  Most of the time they didn't speak -- they would touch,
always touch, never wanting to break their connection  until finally
they were overcome and would return to their room.  And each time
would be like the first, filled with rapture and a kind of
desperation, both wanting time to stay stilled forever.

On their last night, they stayed inside and danced to music that
floated in through the open window.  She didn't want to let any of it
go, and for the first time since that rainy day she allowed herself to
fear what the future might bring.

---

The waitress stopped at the table, hovering uncertainly.

"Can I get you anything else? she said tentatively.

When Beverly didn't respond, she shrugged and moved away.

---

It had been difficult reacclimating to life onboard.  She arranged her 
mementos of Vienna in her quarters and filed away the personal logs
she had recorded, all the while happily anticipating this new chapter
in her life.  She had found with Jean-Luc what she had never imagined
she would find again, especially so late in her life -- a love that
was pure and  passionate, where loving each others' minds was just as
important as loving their bodies.  She couldn't wait to let everyone
know.

And that, ultimately, was what shattered it all.  The second night
onboard, he came to her and they took up where they'd left off.  Their
loving was fierce and inflamed, and when he covered her mouth to
stifle her cries of passion, she thought it all part of the game.

Two days later his true intentions became clear.

He stopped her as she was leaving the morning briefing.

"Beverly, did you tell Deanna about Vienna?  About us?"

"Well, you know I had to, Jean-Luc," she smiled.  "She would have
figured it out anyway."

He sighed and placed his hands on the back of the chair, moving it
between them.  "Do you suppose she's told Will?"

Confused by his demeanor, she answered, "I don't know... probably. 
They  talk a lot."

He looked away then and said, "Let's just hope he doesn't tell anyone
else.  I don't want this getting out."

She was dumbfounded but against her nature, she didn't press the
matter.   They continued to spend almost every night together, and he
was so loving, so passionate, that she was able to forget that outside
of their quarters, their relationship was the same as it had always
been.  She convinced herself that it was a game, that part of the
thrill was living a double life.  She drew on her acting skills to
perpetuate the charade, acquiring a more professional demeanor than
she'd ever portrayed before.

But it began to wear on her finally, and when Jean-Luc chose Deanna as
his escort to a diplomatic function instead of her, she finally
confronted him.

"Why does this upset you, Beverly?  You know there's nothing but
friendship between me and Deanna.  She was merely fulfilling a
function that I required."

"I *know* that, Jean-Luc.  I just don't understand the purpose of all
this secrecy.  Why do we have to continuously hide that we're lovers? 
I need a reason."

"Because it's no one's business but our own.  We don't need others to
know about us to keep what we have."

"But I *want* to tell everyone, Jean-Luc.  I want to share how...
happy  you've made me..."

He crossed to her.  "Is that really necessary, Beverly?  Would it make
what we have any better?"

She stared intently at him.  "Yes, Jean-Luc, it would.  Because then I 
would be assured that you're not ashamed of us.  Or of me."

"My God, Beverly!  Is that what you think?  That I'm ashamed of how I 
feel?"

"I don't know anymore, Jean-Luc.  Talk to me.  Tell me what you mean."

But he couldn't tell her, not really.  In his best captain's voice, he 
spoke about regulations and appearances and gossip and propriety but
she  didn't really hear his words.  All she could hear was that he was
not  ready, nor would he ever be ready to make that final commitment.

She knew that she could not continue this way.

Interrupting, she kissed his cheek, said goodnight and left.

She didn't return his messages, determined to stay away so he could
decide what he really wanted.  She would not be the one to offer
conciliation, refused to take the first step.  It would have to be his
decision.

His attempts were valiant -- flowers, hand-written notes, private
video  messages.  But he wasn't saying what needed to be said -- he
reiterated  what he'd said before, obviously still trying to convince
her that secrecy was paramount to the success of their relationship.

The chime sounded in her quarters as she closed his latest communique,
and she knew it was him.  She hesitated and, against her better
judgement, opened the door.

"I'm ready to try," he said, still standing in the doorway.  "I miss
you, Beverly.  Most desperately."

She wanted so badly to take him in and let passion swallow them up,
but she needed more assurance than the afterglow of orgasm.

"All right, Jean-Luc," she said, and kissed his cheek.  "After the
dinner with the Evora, we'll talk."

They never got the chance to talk.  Before the diplomatic function
with the Evora had really begun, the Ba'ku and Son'a burst into their
lives and disrupted everything.

She hadn't even suspected about Anij.  They had all been so caught up
in  saving the Ba'ku that she hadn't had time to think about Jean-Luc
or their precarious relationship.

When the cave collapsed, she had been paralyzed with fear.  As Worf
and  Data worked frantically to clear the rubble, she squelched her
panic and  focused on him, on finding him alive, on saving him.  She
couldn't lose  him.

When the dust had cleared, she saw that she had already lost him. 
Somehow she was able to diagnose and stabilize while all the while she
was screaming inside.  She heard his pleas to Anij, saw his arms
embracing her, felt his tears and agony, and then his absolute joy at
her announcement that Anij would survive.

He was never even aware that Beverly was there.

When Jean-Luc and Anij were beamed up by the Son'a, she felt something 
break inside her.  He was going to die, the Son'a would kill him, and
his last thoughts would be of Anij, not her.  She never faltered in
her duty, never betrayed her emotions to anyone but throughout the
rest of the mission she was already planning her resignation letter. 
She could not bear to stay on the Enterprise any longer.

She didn't speak to him again once they returned to the ship.  They 
immediately set out for Earth -- Starfleet's complicity with the Son'a
had to be addressed.  She did not seek him out for a private
conversation -- she presented her reports as CMO and that was all. 
Tellingly, he didn't ask to speak with her either.

It was over.  She was ready for a new life away from Starfleet and
Jean-Luc and the pain of remembering what they'd had.  Her resignation
was written and ready to be sent.  Her quarters were packed up.  She'd
already contacted the governor of Caldos, notifying him of her plans
to move there and set up a practice.

But she had to see Vienna just once more.

---

The rain had stopped and the emerging sun transformed the wet leaves
into jewels of light.  The crowd had thinned out once the rain had
stopped and only a few tables were occupied.

As if awakening from a long sleep, Beverly shifted and stretched her
stiff muscles.  She was finished here.  She had re-lived it all, had
watched the rain cleanse the city and her soul, and she was ready now
to leave it all behind.

It wasn't true closure but it would have to do.

She collected her jacket -- the September nights were chilly -- and
left  her thumbprint on the check that had been waiting for hours. 
With one more glance outside the window, she stood.

The bell over the door tinkled and she automatically looked toward it. 
Her heart stumbled.

It was him.

She couldn't move, could only stand with jacket in hand as he
approached.  Her tongue and throat felt totally dry and she could hear
only her heartbeat in her ears.  She could barely hear him over the
pounding.

"Beverly."

Her mouth moved of its own accord. "No, Jean-Luc. I can't."

"Please."

"Why are you here?"

"Because you're here."

She collapsed into the chair.  "Why are you doing this to me,
Jean-Luc?   Can't you just leave it alone, leave me, let me go on?"

He sat opposite her, his eyes never leaving her face.  "No, I can't. 
If  you really must leave--"

"I *am* leaving, Jean-Luc.  I've written my resignation.  You'll get
it  first thing when you're back on board."

His gaze dropped to the tabletop.  "Please, Beverly, please don't
leave.   Don't leave me."

She could feel her strength return.  "How can I leave you, Jean-Luc,
when you've already left?  You left me for her.  There's nothing of us
anymore."

He was nodding.  "Yes, you have every right to feel that's true.  I've 
done... I've been blind and deaf through all of this.  I was so sure
that I was right that I never even tried to hear what you were
saying."  He raised his head and she was surprised to see his eyes
glistening.

"I was ready," he continued, "I was really ready to try, to finally
let  down my guard.  It's just-- it's so hard, Beverly.  To let
everyone around me know how I felt-- how I *feel* about you.  And then
if you decided to leave me, how would I cope?  How could I hide it
from everyone?  They would know -- they would all know that I was
broken..."

She couldn't' breathe -- her chest felt compressed, her throat
clogged.   She couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"But I don't understand, Jean-Luc," she finally managed.  "Why her? 
Why  Anij?"

He sat back, his hands palm up on the table in surrender.  "Because-- 
because it wasn't her.  It was what she represented.  Time just...
stopped while I was there.  Nothing would have to change, and I knew
that she would never... that she would never leave."  He brought his
hands together, clasping them tightly.  "I didn't love her.  I don't
love her.  When she was so close to dying, it was like youth and hope
were dying with her.  I just couldn't face that."

Beverly was crying now, silently.  She was so very tired and afraid
and  certain of nothing anymore. 

"What do we do now, Jean-Luc?" she whispered.

"Can we start again?"

She gripped the coffee cup again, the cold porcelain warmer than her 
fingers.  "I don't know, Jean-Luc," she said, the words scraping her
throat raw.  "I need time... to think.  I don't know if I can do this
again, not without..."  Her voice cracked.

He didn't speak and when she finally looked up she almost cried out at
how he looked -- so old and weary, defeat etched deeply in his face.

"All right, Beverly," he said.  "I understand."

"I'm going to Caldos," she murmured.  "I'll let you know my decision
in a week."  She tried to smile.  "With your permission, I'll take a
short  leave.  I haven't resigned.  Not yet."

He nodded and she stood, picking up her jacket.  He grabbed her hand, 
startling her.

"If you don't come back..." He paused.  "I'll never forget what we
had.   What we were..."

She turned away, afraid she would break down, needing her control. 
When  she reached the door, she allowed herself to look back at him
once more.

"We were poetry," she whispered, and left as the rain began to fall
again.

---

The transporter room formed around her, along with four familiar
figures.

"Welcome back, Doctor," Riker said through his smile.  Deanna stood
beside him, her arm linked in his.  Data stood in the open doorway.

"Thank you, Will," she replied.  "It's good to be home."  Her gaze
never  left Jean-Luc's face.

As she stepped down from the platform, he came forward and extended
his  hand.  She took it.

"Welcome home, Beverly," he said, his voice brimming with emotion.

And then he took her in his arms and held her close.  All the love
she'd  held in check for the last week flowed out of her and she
clutched him to her.

He pulled back and cupped her face in his hands.

"I missed you," he said with no hesitation, his voice strong and
clear.   And he kissed her, long and deeply and unashamed.

As she kissed him back, she thought she could hear the rain of Vienna.

---

The End