The BLTS Archive - Merde
by Daughter of Lilith (daughter.of.lilith@gmail.com)

---

Published: 03-24-08 - Complete - id:4151864

Setting: AU for several reasons. I did toss around canon
chronology a bit: Attached happens after Insurrection and
Chain of Command after Attached. 

Disclaimer: Definitely not mine, which I’m sure a lot of people
are very relieved to hear ;)

Feedback: Flames, egoboosts & constructive criticism. . . bring
it on! 

---

The viewscreen was as black as starless space, but somehow
he could see her eyes reflected in it. His heart throbbed
angrily in his chest, as if trying to escape to go looking
for the one who had once held it in her gentle hands.

It had been days since they'd heard anything from her or
from Captain Picard, and that was no cause for concern since
they were on shore leave, yet something felt wrong. He was
sitting in the captain's chair and that should at least give
him a sense of satisfaction, but instead he felt like
running, running like crazy back to those black eyes that
had been haunting him ever since she'd left.

Something was about to change, and Will Riker knew that he
wasn't going to like it.

---

It had turned out to be easier than she had expected, Deanna
concluded happily. It had taken but a question about
archeology during the hours in the shuttle and the tension
of the past weeks had floated from him together with his
words.

She surprised him a number of times by interjecting her own
comments and opinions. When he'd asked her how she'd
acquired the knowledge, she'd told him about the geology
classes she had followed before going to the Academy.

Now, two days after their arrival, he was completely relaxed;
removed from the worries of commanding the flagship of the
Federation and, most of the time, removed from the memories
of the last two missions as well.. He was leaning back in
his chair, a glass of wine in his hands and an unusual
sparkle in his eyes.

After he'd finished his wine, they walked back to the hotel.
She sensed that, now that their conversation had dwindled
down to a companionable silence, his thoughts turned to the
last mission. Knowing that words were of no use, she instead
linked her arm through his, leaning slightly against his
shoulder. The light touch brought a smile back onto his
face. This was why she'd come with him. To guard him from
dark emotions and too many memories; a mix of counselor and
friend.

That, and because Beverly had refused to go.

In silence they continued their way until they stood in
front of her room. "Thank you Sir, for a pleasant evening."

"Deanna, my name is..." He trailed off when he noticed the
teasing smile playing on her lips. "Thank you for your
company."

She nodded, throwing a dark, annoying curl right in front of
her eye. Taking a step back, she prepared to close the door,
but a strange mix of emotions coming from Picard made her
hesitate. "Jean-Luc?"

"I...There's something I've wanted to ask you. Can I come
in?"

"Of course." She opened the door further and let him pass.
Grabbing a bottle of wine, or at least something like it,
out of the food container, she handed it to him and excused
herself. It seemed a perfect excuse to allow the anxiety he
suddenly felt to calm and give him the chance to compose
himself a little. She'd always preferred dresses and skirts
over any kind of pants and figured that, after a day of
hiking in uniform-like attire, she had earned the right to
change into a more comfortable outfit.

When she re-entered the small living area, she felt his
admiration of her dress. Still not used to the relaxed,
non-Starfleet setting and her heightened awareness off him,
she blushed slightly as she accepted the glass he held out
to her. "Thank you."

Jean-Luc acknowledged her quietly, trying to find a neutral
place to lock his eyes on. "How do you do it?" He met Troi's
black eyes for just a second and saw confusion in them,
prompting him to be clearer. "How do you deal with what you
sense? I never really thought about it, but the implant made
me realize that it must be hard."

Having to decide on whether to answer him or ask him about
the implant, Deanna chose to reply, hoping that he would
answer her questions in return. "It's not that
difficult...it's a little like being in a hotel room
listening to your favorite music while the people in the
rooms around you are making enough noise for you to hear. If
you focus on your music you can ignore the noise for a large
part, if you don't, your music gets lost among the noise.
Sometimes it is turned higher for just a moment, or a
particular loud tone draws your attention. And then there
are times when you hardly hear the other noises, or when it
takes very little concentration to focus, or times where the
noises are particularly annoying and almost impossible to
ignore." Finishing her explanation, she sipped her wine to
ease the dryness in her mouth and monitored her companion
for his reaction.

"So, it is a matter of concentration at all times?" That
would explain the amazing self-control and patience she'd
showed through the years she'd served under him.

"In a way. It hardly requires conscious thought, and I've
lived with other people's emotions all my life. I've never
known any other way."

He stared at her face as if he'd never seen her before. He'd
asked her a little about empathy before, but she'd always
avoided the topic and now that she'd truly answered him, his
respect for her grew as it had since his time on Kes-Pritt.
Being able to read Beverly's thoughts and emotions had been
interesting and challenging at first, but they'd quickly
realized how dangerous such intimacy could be. Unlike
Deanna, they had not been trained not to react or judge what
they sensed, and they had found themselves on the edge of
fighting. "I never understood what empathy entailed, and I
probably still don't, but I do know I never truly
appreciated the difficulties you face because of it."

Something in his voice had caught her by surprise, but it
disappeared too soon for her to pinpoint. "Because of what
happened on Kes-Pritt?" The opportunity was too good to pass
up. Beverly had told her a little of what happened, but her
sessions with Picard had so far all been related to his
capture by the Cardassians.

"Yes. Being able to hear someone else's thoughts and feel
their emotions was quite an experience, but I learned a
number of things I'd rather not know."

Deanna nodded, understanding exactly what he meant. The
sadness she felt within him, although quickly suppressed,
struck a chord within her own soul.

Picard sighed and his expression turned mournful as he
gulped down the remainder of his wine. "Being connected made
us aware of each other's feelings. Or at least, that was
what I thought. When we returned I tried to..." He skipped
ahead, unable to verbalize what he wanted to say and knowing
that Troi would understand. "...But she refused."

"That's not what saddens you." Deanna spoke softly, taking
care not to come across as prying.

"No. When she refused, I was relieved. I do love her, but I
think a relationship is not what I wanted from her."

That was about the same way Beverly felt Deanna knew from
her talks with the Doctor. "Then what makes you so sad?"

He smiled wryly at that and put his empty glass on the
table, then studied her face. "Because it made me realize
that I always fall in love with the women I can't have.
Whether because of duty, or culture or mutual friends.
There's always something that comes in between. I realized
that I'll probably stay alone for the rest of my life"

"The future hasn't been written yet, and you'll always have
us, your friends," she reminded him, taking his hand in
hers. "You may still find a suitable mate, someone who'll
send your heart spinning."

Jean-Luc shrugged and tried to suppress a smile. "And if not
I can always turn to your mother." He chuckled at her
fake-shocked expression.

"I won't tell her you said that," Deanna laughed, wagging her
finger in front of his eyes.

"I guess that is an aspect of telepathy that is both a
blessing and a curse," he said after a pause, his voice
completely sober again. "You're never alone." She surprised
him by dropping her head, causing her jet-black hair to hide
her face and mumbling something so quietly that he couldn't
make out her words. "What did you say?"

"Nothing, it was nothing." As good as she was at hiding her
feelings, this time they shone brightly in her large, black
eyes.

"It didn't sound like nothing," he prodded gently.

Acquiescing Deanna nodded and looked away from him. "I said,
'you'd be surprised', that's all."

---

Beverly Crusher returned to her quarters after a short and
uneventful work-out. It was almost as if life on the ship
had been put on hold in the absence of the captain and
counselor and they'd only been gone for three days. She
missed her talks with Deanna, especially now that she was
still dealing with the aftermath of Kes-Pritt and the
mission to Celtris III.

She'd thought about talking to Riker, knowing that if she
asked he would listen, but she wasn't sure if he'd be able
to keep what she told him from altering his own perceptions
of the captain.

Besides, there wasn't much to tell, was there? She loved
Jean-Luc and now she knew he loved her, and it felt safe,
but she didn't want to explore it. The strange dynamics of
their friendship were like a perfect dance. Slow, then
quick. Easy paces were ever so often interrupted by a
complex combination of twists and turns. Familiar,
thrilling, exhausting and at times heart-breaking, but
through all that she could count on him as a friend, first
and foremost and she didn't want their dance to end.

When he got back from leave, she'd try to get their
breakfast meetings going again. She still felt bad for not
visiting him regularly after his return from Celtris III
but she'd feared he was still angry at her for not giving
'them' a chance, and he had refused to talk to anyone but
Deanna anyway. Which was why she had refused Deanna's
request to accompany him on shore leave.

Sometimes she wondered what they would do when Deanna left.
She was the safe-haven where they could talk about whatever
bothered them, knowing that they wouldn't be judged.

So, when her friends got back, the work-outs would continue
and she and Jean-Luc would have breakfast again and
everything would be back to the way it was before. Yes, that
was how it would go, she was certain...

But then why was it that she couldn't make herself believe
that? Why was it that she felt that something was about to
change, and that she wasn't going to like it?

---

The alarm he'd set wasn't what had woken him. Sitting
straight up in bed, Jean-Luc tried to figure out what had.
Had it been another nightmare? No, he knew it hadn't been.
He wasn't sweaty, or feeling unpleasant in the least bit. On
the contrary, he felt damn good. It must've been a dream, he
realized, and a good one, for he hadn't felt this good in
what seemed like ages.

It was completely opposite of how he'd felt a couple of
hours before, when Deanna had woken him from a nightmare. He
didn't remember all the details, but he knew she'd been
there to chase the horrible memories away, like so many
times before.

As he stood up, something 'down low' caught his attention.
"Merde, a very good dream indeed." But try as he might, he
couldn't remember what the dream had been about.

Deciding to let the mystery rest, he took a much-needed cold
shower and prepared breakfast. He considered inviting
Deanna, but chose not to and quietly munched on his food.

Checking the chronometer he saw he had thirty minutes left
before he had to leave for an archaeological expedition to
the Akey-mountain group. He packed lunch and sat down on the
couch, waiting. The expedition would return in the evening
and he'd seen a small restaurant near the hotel that seemed
perfect to have dinner after a day 'playing in the mud', as
Troi called it Maybe he should've invited her along with the
expedition? She had expressed interest in archaeology, and
he did enjoy her company. But then again, she told him that
she planned on going to a nearby beach today and do nothing
all day long. He could understand that. The last weeks
hadn't been easy on her either. Of course, that didn't mean
he couldn't invite her to dinner.

He wrote her a note on one of the padds he'd brought with
him and knocked on the door that connected their rooms to
see if she was awake. When she didn't respond, he opened the
door and slipped inside, silently grateful for her
insistence on keeping the door unlocked. He put the padd on
the table and was about to leave, when he noticed that the
door to her bedroom was open.

Knowing that he shouldn't, but unable to stop himself, he
peeked inside.

Deanna lay on her stomach, her face turned towards him and
her arms bent around her head, the right one nearly
completely hidden underneath her hair. He studied her face
and saw a pained expression on her features. Was she
sensing something?

Almost as if in response to his unspoken question, her frown
turned into a smile and she rolled onto her back, pulling
the sheets off her body. Jean-Luc stood frozen in the
doorpost, his eyes helplessly taking in the naked form of his
counselor. Toes, waist, breasts...he could see everything.

A movement of her arm brought him out of his shock and he
quickly retreated back to his own room. What had he been
thinking?! Sneaking in on his counselor like that? She
probably wouldn't make a big deal out of it; they had seen
each other naked before, after all. Hell, he'd even been
forced to kiss her once. But this was different. There was
no third party involved, he hadn't been forced, and there
was nothing to distract him. Nothing that he could focus on
to avoid really looking at her. He'd always been aware that
she was a pretty woman, beautiful even...but seeing her like
that on the bed, her hair fanned out and her arms stretched
out above her head added a whole new dimension to her.

He forced her out of his head as he introduced himself to
the other members of the archaeological team, but was only
successful for a short while. Why was this throwing him off
balance as much as it did? He'd walked in on women before
and yes, it was embarrassing but quickly overcome, and it
wasn't like she was any different from the other women he'd
seen, he told himself, remembering her as he'd seen her that
morning.

"Merde" where was that cold shower when you needed
it?

---

The expedition had been intense and surprisingly
interesting. He'd even managed not to think about
Deanna...too often. But now that they were returning to the
city, he was faced with the dinner appointment. Of course he
could claim being too exhausted to follow up on the
appointment, but he hated lying to her. Besides, she would
know it when he lied. On that matter, would she know about
that morning too?

God, what he wouldn't give to be back on the ship where he
could be the Captain again, forgetting that this leave had
ever happened and ease back into his strange but comforting
friendship with Troi.

Having been dropped off in front of his hotel, Picard went
to his room and took a quick shower, washing all the dirt
off his body. It was amazing where the stuff crept. He
changed into stylish dark-brown trousers and a cream-colored
shirt and, after quickly brushing his teeth, he left for the
restaurant.

As soon as he rounded the last corner, he saw her. She stood
in front of the entrance and seemed to be talking to one of
the waiters. That was secondary information however, for
his eyes were locked on her shimmering, grey dress. The
attire brought back memories of that morning and he quickly
focused his gaze on her face. She spun towards him and their
eyes met over a distance of several meters and the contact
set his body into motion. "Miss Troi," he greeted her,
deciding against the traditional French greeting, "you look
tres magnifique."

"Why thank you, Jean-Luc. You look good too, for someone
who's been rolling around in the mud all day." She grinned
at his obvious discomfort and then turned back to the
waiter. "I was just talking to Peter here. I believe he said
there was a table for two available." She pinned 'Peter'
with a smile and the young man shot a murderous look at
Picard before taking her arm and leading her inside.

They were quickly seated and, after being given a bottle of
wine on the house, they were left alone with the menus.

He watched, trying not to be too interested as she adjusted
the straps of her dress. "Is that style common on Betazed?"

Deanna self-consciously glanced down at herself. "Yes...I'm
sorry. I didn't realize it would make you uncomfortable."

"No, it's all right." But she knew otherwise, and she was
right. The dress did make him uncomfortable in this setting.
A double slit to her hips parted the shimmering grey
material for her legs to move freely and the V-cut of the
bodice was so deep it couldn't be far from her navel. After
this morning, it only made him more aware of her sexuality.

"Did you enjoy the expedition?"

A waiter came to take their orders and, after the man had
retreated back to the kitchen, he answered her, trying not to
look anywhere below her eyes.

---

Lying in his bed, Jean-Luc reflected upon the evening.
Despite his initial discomfort, they'd settled into an easy
conversation. As topics changed from light-hearted to
serious, and even a little sad, they'd taken comfort in
little touches and gestures, and, if he concentrated, he could
still feel her lips on his cheek when she kissed him
goodnight.

He'd once told her, years ago, that in many ways their
relationship was as close as that of lovers, which still
held true. She knew more about him than even Beverly did,
and he trusted her more than anyone else when it came to not
judging him for something he thought or did. She had rescued
him from himself after the Borg, and she was the one who'd
forced him to relax when he needed it, like now. Was it
so strange then that he felt attracted to her? That he wondered what
it'd be like if they...

Jean-Luc halted his thoughts and
turned over. He needed his sleep; he'd promised to take
Deanna hiking through the Crystal Valley tomorrow.

---

"What about commander Riker?"

Lowering her glass, she looked over its rim at him. "What
about him?" She stretched her legs and curled them
underneath her body again, as she had been doing every so
often since they'd sat down. Probably something she did to
ease the soreness in her muscles from hiking through rough
terrain all day.

"You seemed closer than before during the Ba'Ku crisis." A
look of hurt crossed her face and it made him blurt out an
apology.

"I guess it's only fair after I questioned you about
Beverly." He wanted to tell her that that wasn't why he'd
asked, but the small smile that curled itself around her
lips told him that she already knew. "We were closer for a
while, but you know Will. He values his freedom." She
reached out and placed her hand on his in correspondence to
his feelings. "I know the loneliness bothers you, Jean-Luc,
but there's time, and where there is time, there are also
opportunities."

"Is that what you tell yourself?" As soon as he'd spoken
them, he wanted to take the words back. He was doing what
she did, reacting to her expression, her emotions, but for
some reason he felt as if he'd invaded her privacy.

"If need be." Something in her voice compelled him to reach
out to her and he traced a path with his fingers from the
blue band that held her hair to her jaw. He couldn't be
sure, but he thought he'd felt her shiver under his touch.
"You're a beautiful woman."

"Thank you."

His eyes focused on her full lips, made darker
by the lightest coat of lipstick. His hand lay still along
her cheek, and he felt himself leaning, he was aware of his
artificial heart beating in his chest, his breath gently
brushing her skin. Oh, how soft it must be. He'd dreamt
about her for three nights now, but the dreams hadn't
prepared him for this moment, and, as much as he wanted it to
fade into the next, he also wanted it to freeze. He reached
further and she didn't seem to be moving away. He
remembered her as he'd seen her that morning, naked and
relaxed upon her covers, her pale beauty exposed to his
view. And then their lips met. Hers were soft and sweet against
his, the taste of wine still on them. He ached to feel her
body against his, to have someone to love, if only for a
night.

Caught up in his emotions Deanna responded, her heart
ignoring the warnings her mind screamed. This was wrong; he
was her captain, her friend. But he was also lonely, just as
lonely as she was, and her empathic heart would not deny him
what he needed so badly.

Picard's heart lurched when he felt her return the intimate
touch and his hand slipped to the back of her head, pushing
the hair band down and releasing her luxurious curls, to
pull her against him. This was what he wanted...what he
needed.

---

She woke early the next morning, disoriented by the sunlight
on her face. Her mind was foggy and drowsy, her skin
tingling and her limbs pleasantly languid. She rolled over,
but was stopped by something warm and solid. Realization hit
her with the force of a phaser blast and she jumped out of
bed. This couldn't be true! The urge to flee was strong, but
not strong enough to get her to move. What had she done? He
was a friend. A man she greatly admired and respected, but
above that he was her superior. This could be devastating to
their working relationship.

All the warnings her mind had screamed the previous night
shot through her head, this time freely moving around, not
hindered by his emotions like the night before. There was
nothing to overwhelm her rational response and it screamed
at her what it'd tried to make her see earlier. It was
wrong.

She picked up her clothes from the floor and began to dress,
so caught up in her turmoil that she did not notice Picard
awakening behind her. "Deanna?"

Startled, she spun around, her unfastened dress revealing
tantalizing glimpses of the body underneath. "Sir."

For a second he thought she was joking, but then he saw the
fear in her eyes. "Deanna."

"This was wrong. I shouldn't have...I apologize, Sir."

He climbed out of bed and reached for her. She leaned into
his touch, shaking like crazy and obviously trying to stop
herself

"No."

"Yes!" She spun from his grasp. "Yes, it was!"

"Why?"

"Because you're my superior! Because we're friends. Because
of Beverly and Will. Because you do not love me!" Tears
threatened to fall from the black eyes that looked past him.
He was going to object, but she wouldn't let him. "There's
physical attraction yes, but that's all. A good fuck to
battle the loneliness."

Hearing her speak that word invoked a definite sense of
discontinuity, but somehow it seemed to fit. Did he love
her? He didn't know. He knew that last night he'd needed her
more than he could remember needing anyone before, but did
he love her? He also knew that he did not love her like he
had Beverly, and that he loved and valued her as a
friend...but he could not tell if he really loved her and
perhaps that in itself proved that she was right.

He was about to answer her, when the familiar sound of his
communicator interrupted. A look of surprise passed between
them s he reached for the golden badge that lay next to the
bed. "Picard here."

Riker's familiar voice filled the room

"What is your ETA?"

"Very well. Counselor Troi and myself will be ready for
beam-up. Picard out."

He looked back at Deanna, uncertain of what to say or do.
"I'll go pack my belongings, Sir." She made the decision for
him and left the room before he could utter another word,
leaving him alone with his thoughts.

---

"Welcome back!" Beverly Crusher exclaimed as her two best
friends materialized on the transporter platform. Deanna
hugged her fiercely, gladder to have left the planet than
she'd ever admit to anyone, including herself. 

"It's good to
be back." Troi stepped back as Beverly moved on to her
captain, ignoring the set of hazel eyes she felt on her
back.

She'd almost made it out of the small room when the doors
opened to admit the Enterprise's second in command. The
irony did not escape Deanna. Confined in this little space
where the three people who, together with her mother, were
the corners of her life. Her captain: mentor, friend and
patient, but now also a lover, be it only for one night. Her
Imzadi: friend, confidant and once-lover and Beverly:
friend, confidant and occasional partner-in-crime. Their
friendships were strong and yet so fragile.

"Captain, Deanna, welcome back." She nodded in reply and
watched as he walked to his superior to update him on their
new orders. Seeing the opportunity, Deanna slipped into the
corridor and hurried to her quarters, hoping fervently that
Beverly wouldn't follow her. She needed to think. A lot.

---

Two days had passed and if he didn't remember that night so
vividly he would never have believed it'd happened. He'd
observed her since their return; always taking care not to
be too obvious or watch too long, but he'd seen enough. She
was composed, no different than she used to be, except when
their eyes met. He knew she regretted what had happened and
for a short while so had he. But, after five days of being
constantly in each other's company, he now missed her, and he
knew that even if that night had not happened, he would still
have missed her, and he wondered if she missed him too.

Of course she ended all discussions before he had a change
to verbalize his thoughts or feelings. 'It should never have
happened. You're my commander, my friend, and my mentor. I
will serve under you like before and with a little time the
night will be forgotten. I love you, Jean-Luc, as a friend."
And there was nothing he could do about it.

---

The End