Story Notes: Originally published three or four years ago on the now very sadly defunct P/C Archive site, but I decided to dig it up after rewatching the show on Blu-ray. The story is set just prior to "Nemesis," and assumes Beverly is going to Starfleet Medical. "Insurrection" happened, but Anij did not. And I sort of compressed the timeline by assuming the movies happened closer together after the end of the series, so we're only two or three years after "Attached" instead of eight. Set of vignettes set over one day and post-movie.

Morning

She'd told him about the offer when Starfleet Medical first extended it four weeks ago, only shortly after Riker and Troi had announced they would be moving on to the Titan following their wedding. He was happy for her, of course, and so out of consideration for the tremendous step it would represent for her, he carefully set aside the inexplicable ache that came over him at the thought of being separated from her.

She wasn't oblivious to his ambivalence, for she also felt it. But as close as their friendship was – as entwined as their lives were, and as much as they'd occasionally danced around the idea of taking their friendship even further – yet they were, after all, formally unattached to one another, and driven to excel and advance in their respective professional fields. The opportunity to head up Starfleet Medical for a second time, now that her son was grown and so independent that for some time he had no longer even resided in their same plane of existence, genuinely excited her.

And so he encouraged her to accept it. She seemed grateful for his support and submitted her acceptance to Medical, while he started reviewing applications for the now three openings among his senior staff. Their daily breakfasts and almost-as-often dinners continued uninterrupted, with an easy familiarity and affection that only seemed to increase. He didn't dwell on their upcoming separation and she didn't appear to either. Even their discussions about packing, planning, and future assignments were natural and untinged by melancholy. He began to feel that everything might be fine after all – until one morning, it wasn't.

Beverly Crusher brushed a few crumbs off her fingers and pushed back from the table to stand, leaning over to pick up his plate along with her own for recycling. "So, you're sure you don't need any help with the toast?"

With a laugh, Jean-Luc Picard held up his hands. "No, I'm sure I can manage. Somehow I think our styles differ, in any case."

She smirked. "Maybe that's for the better. Will and Deanna would probably prefer I not have a hand in sharing any embarrassing anecdotes – not that they wouldn't have it coming."

"Don't worry, I won't let them off the hook entirely," he assured her. The plates clinked as she deposited them in the replicator.

"You'd better not," she warned, turning back to retrieve their coffee mugs as well.

"Thank you. I know who I'd be accountable to if I did." He stood to kiss her on the cheek goodbye as she moved past him around the end of the table. She accepted the affectionate action distractedly and kept moving to head out the door on her way to Sickbay. "Well, I'm sure you'll do fine, Jean-Luc, but I remain available for consults. See you later – thanks for breakfast."

He couldn't have said why, but something about the sight of her slender, black-clad figure sweeping out of his quarters suddenly gripped him with a feeling of loss out of all proportion to a simple end of a meal. "Beverly, wait."

She turned back from the open door, a minor question on her face.

Somewhat caught off guard by his own request, Picard found that he wasn't at all certain how he meant to proceed. And even if he did know, surely this wasn't the time? After a moment he shook his head with a rueful look. "Never mind."

Curious, she took a step back towards him. The door hissed shut behind her. "What is it, Jean-Luc?"

He hesitated again. He hadn't consciously intended to bring this up now, or even at all. Perhaps he could still choose to wave it off. But no - he found, as he met her clear blue eyes, that he didn't want to. There might be nothing particular about this day or this moment that made it significant ... except for the fact that it marked another day closer to the end of the morning ritual they'd observed for the better part of a decade, another day closer to the inevitable drifting apart that a separation of light-years would bring.

Resolution took hold of him and he decided to go all in. If he was going to lose her anyway, there was nothing more he could lose by telling her exactly what that loss would mean to him. "It's just that – I'm going to miss this terribly."

She swallowed. "This." What is he doing? Her thoughts, which had already been halfway to Sickbay as she rushed to make the start of her shift, skidded back to where she stood, where the air now held a sudden charge. A part of her marvelled that even as careful as they always were to maintain a certain emotional distance from each other, the slightest breach of that distance could explode the whole pretense in an instant.

"This – breakfast. You. I'm going to miss you terribly."

Beverly thought she could have deflected him if he'd kept the comment contained to breakfasts, but his directness almost completely disarmed her. She kept very still as he closed now the physical distance between them, and the warmth in his expression was almost more than she could bear. She flashed an uncertain smile at him and made her best effort to steer them back towards familiar ground. "So will I ... It's hard to find good breakfast dates anymore."

Her attempt at lightheartedness failed spectacularly in the face of his quiet earnestness. Almost literally brushing aside her comment, he reached out and grasped her hands, sending a small shock through them both. "Beverly, as I trust you know, you are much more than that to me. That much I believe we both knew after our experience on Kesprytt."

Of course she did; the memories of his thoughts and dreams she'd been privy to through their mental link on the planet could still bring a flush to her cheeks even several years later. Yet even though she was only one who had voiced reservations at the time, it wasn't only she who had been afraid at the intensity of the revelations. "You weren't ready then either," she protested.

Picard shook his head in ready acknowledgement. "No." He'd initially felt stung by her turning him down, but in talking more after that night he had come to agree that caution and more time were prudent. He hadn't been ready for a public relationship, hadn't quite worked through that longstanding guilt, hadn't had enough time to process the intense experience – all of which, he knew now, was no longer true. "You're right. But in the time that has passed since then, my feelings for you have only grown, and I dare to presume that yours have as well. Beverly, perhaps we should revisit–"

"That's quite a presumption," she cut him off. But it was a bit too late to be an effective rebuke, and her hands, which had been cold, kept a tight grip on his. A breath caught in her throat and she swore at herself mentally as he let his hazel eyes bore into hers, keeping her honest. No more deflections. "All right," she conceded softly. "I'll admit that I have – often – felt the same way. You are my closest friend and I won't deny that there has always been the potential for us to be more than friends."

She paused and bit her lip, regarding the familiar lines of his face. Her voice stayed steady though the next words were difficult to say. But surely he would see the sense in them? "Jean-Luc, we have to be realistic. I think perhaps our moment has passed. Whether we might wish otherwise, we've both made decisions about our careers and about each other, and I am going back to Earth. Which you encouraged me to do."

Undeterred, he nodded and squeezed her hands. "I realize that. I should have said something sooner, and I regret not doing so. It has taken me far too long to come to the realization that I want nothing more than for us to have another chance ... to act on these feelings that both of us share."

The air of assured authority he wore comfortably as a starship captain and accomplished diplomat was now being directed full force at her, and in the already charged environment Beverly felt herself being drawn in by his voice, his body, his words. Yet a spark of frustration flared to life within her - how could he possibly think it was fair to be springing this on her now? She pulled her hands away from him, breaking their eye contact and shaking her head. "It's a little late for–" She stopped, tried again. "Jean-Luc, what would you have me do? You never asked me to stay."

He replied truthfully. "I didn't feel that I had the right to ask that of you."

"If it's what you wanted, then you should have said something."

"I had no reason to believe that was what you wanted."

"You never gave me the chance to consider!" she snapped.

Picard exhaled. "No, and I believe now that was a mistake. One which," he pointed out patiently, "I am now trying to rectify."

A note of desperation crept into her voice as she turned away from him and braced herself against the dining table, staring down at its polished black surface. "How can you do this now, less than a week before we arrive at Earth?" Did he really mean for her to walk back her acceptance to Medical now, with all the plans and arrangements already in progress? The logistics were daunting. They had duties and obligations to others besides themselves and he knew it as well as she did. But if he was truly asking her to stay, how could she say no? The intimacy of their friendship, cultivated over so many years, was a rare gift that could never be replaced. And she did love him, of course she did, she'd just always been so careful to draw lines because of – what? Guilt? Fear? Habit? On a moment's reflection she felt that the former had melted away with time; they were far too comfortable together now to be afraid of sharing even more of their lives. The latter was no reason to be stubborn now; it was only that, as she'd told him, she assumed it was simply too late to revisit the years' worth of choices they had made. And yet...

She clenched her fists, feeling utterly at a loss. She'd thought that she had made her peace with moving on, but apparently she had only just managed to paper over the gaping hole that leaving him would open up in her life.

He moved to her side, raising one hand to touch her shoulder. "I know that it is," and he paused to search for the words, "tremendously unfair of me, Beverly."

"You're damned right it is." She threw him an accusing glance out of the corner of her eye, but he could sense that the heat was draining out of her words.

"That's why I didn't say anything in the first instance. I want you to continue to succeed and thrive in your career. I was, and remain, genuinely happy for this opportunity for you. But selfishly ... I also want you here." As he spoke he coaxed her to turn towards him and she slowly acquiesced to his gentle prompts, sliding her hands up his chest to rest at his lapel while his arms dropped to encircle her waist. He appreciated how well they fit together, how natural this physical closeness was. And yet they'd had far too few of these moments in their half a lifetime of attraction and friendship and intimacy. He wanted so much more. Please stay.

She closed her eyes and swallowed hard. "Jean-Luc..."

"Beverly." The low intensity of his voice compelled her to look up. He brought a hand up to brush her light red hair, attractively layered to frame her face, back over her shoulder. "I know that it doesn't seem practical to change things now and we could each manage well enough apart. It's not impossible to imagine life without you ... It's only impossible to imagine that I could be happy with such a life."

All his cards were now laid out. Her eyes were suddenly bright and for a moment she stayed quiet, fingering his uniform collar. Her perception narrowed until she was finally aware of nothing but the sensations of him: the warmth of his lower body pressed against hers, the electric feel of his fingers in her hair, the enticing sight of his lips mere centimeters from hers. In the silence of several heartbeats, his hands continued to move at the small of her back and dance lightly around the back of her neck, and he revelled in this new license she was allowing him, hoping she would allow him more. To his surpassing relief, she did.

She closed the remaining distance between them with a kiss that was first soft and hesitant, but the touch was hardly enough to satisfy. Seeking more, she lifted her hands to his face and brought her lips to his again, this time with more confidence. Her lips parted to admit his tongue and as the kiss deepened she felt herself going weak in the knees at the sheer force of the love and desire she was finally giving him freedom to express. She had kissed him before, she thought, but never quite like this, and why in the galaxy she'd ever believed they shouldn't be together in this way was now completely beyond her. Good lord, she loved this man.

At last they pulled apart with small gasps, needing a moment just to breathe. His arms stayed wrapped tightly around her as he rested his forehead against hers. Taking a deep breath to clear her head, heart still pounding, Beverly finally managed to speak. "So. What do we do now? Just call Medical and announce I've changed my mind on a personal whim?"

Picard traced his fingers up and down her spine and thrilled at the shiver he felt pass through her. Emboldened by the passionate yes she'd just given him, he felt a complete sense of peace in making the next leap. "Hardly a whim. If you think it would help, we could make things official."

"Oh?" She kissed him again, distracted. When she pulled back again, she could see joy reflecting in his eyes and she couldn't help but return his smile.

"Beverly, I have loved you for years. You are the better part of me. If you'll have me, I would share my life with you."

When his meaning made itself clear to her, she was overwhelmed. After everything all at once, it was a little fast to be moving to the proposal stage ... wasn't it? But how long did she need to think about it, really? She loved him, had loved him longer than she could remember, knew him better almost than she knew herself. A rush of images, impressions from so many different moments in her life, surfaced in her mind: from her Academy days, Wesley's childhood, and Jack's funeral; from Rutia, Wolf 359, Celtris III, and Kesprytt; from daily breakfasts, poker games, and plays - in all of these, Jean-Luc was there, and she couldn't imagine how her life would have been without him. In many ways he had even served as a surrogate father to her son, for which she could never adequately express her gratitude, and she loved him for that, too. Thirty years was long enough, indeed, to have provided enough of a basis to know with complete certainty that this man was who she belonged with and who would never fail to love her. There was no other way things could be. She pulled him back close and nodded into his shoulder with a whisper. "I will."

If it could have, he felt that his heart might have skipped a few beats. He felt a wave of happiness sweep over him and he thought again what a damned fool he had been to ever have thought he should let this beautiful woman get away from him. He very nearly had convinced himself to say nothing at all, holding a stubborn peace that had kept for almost thirty years, and yet now she was in his arms, promising him she would be in his life forever - he had done nothing to deserve it and felt only that he would do anything possible to convey to her the depth of his gratitude. Full of emotion, he sought her mouth once more.

As the heat grew in their embrace she began to think rather urgently about relocating to the couch – skip that, the bedroom – and getting them both out of these uniforms post haste ... Uniforms. Damn. She had all kinds of ways she would like to be marking this occasion, and none of them involved work, but her annoyingly practical inner voice popped up at this thought to remind her of their current circumstances. She moved her lips close to his ear. "Captain, we are terribly late for our shifts."

"Mmm." He was unperturbed. "I believe that we had important ship's business to attend to."

She gasped slightly at the things he was doing to her neck. "Is that so?"

"Yes, I had to fill the position of our ship's CMO."

"Oh, and is that the usual interview process?"

"No, interestingly, it doesn't usually involve agreeing to marry the commander."

She began to laugh and pulled back to regard his amused expression. "You know, I have quite a track record for marriage proposals now."

He harrumphed, a bit chagrined at the lack of ceremony. "It's not quite the way I would have planned it, had I actually planned it," he admitted, dropping his arms to her waist again and reluctantly putting a bit of space between them.

Fiddling with the front of his uniform collar to straighten it a bit, delighting in the feel of his arms around her, she glanced around his familiar quarters. The napkins left on the table were evidence of their already shared daily lives, and she smiled again at the rightness of the moment. "It's perfect for us, Jean-Luc."

He kissed her again and then took a deep breath and stepped back, trying without much success to turn his attention to the day's duties. "I, uh - suppose we should head to our stations. Staff meeting at 1100, and so forth." He felt another rush as he watched her rake her fingers through her slightly mussed hair, though there was little she could do to hide the rosy flush of her cheeks or the redness of her parted lips...

Composed now, completely aware of the effect she was having on him, she suppressed another laugh. "Probably so. Dinner tonight - my quarters?" she asked innocently.

He laughed at the mischievous look in her eyes that belied her tone. "I'll be there as soon as shift ends," he promised. Then, extending one hand: "Shall we?"

She nodded and squeezed his outstretched hand as they exited his quarters and headed for the turbolift together.