"Dr. Crusher?"

A bit tiredly—how had it gotten this late already? she wondered—Beverly Crusher looked up from the research she was reviewing at her desk. "Yes?"

"Captain Picard is in the nursery. I think he was looking for you."

Managing with an effort to keep her expression neutral, she nodded at the blonde nurse paused at her office doorway. "Thanks, Mariel. I'll be out there shortly."

When the young woman had left, Beverly tapped her fingers a few times on the desk and stared unfocused at the computer screen. She supposed she shouldn't be surprised that he had finally come to find her; she knew she was being unfair in avoiding him so assiduously this past week. She did feel guilty skipping out on Miles and Keiko's wedding, too, despite her friendship with them both, but she'd still felt too uncomfortable being around Jean-Luc in such a setting. She couldn't avoid talking to him forever, of course, she just still wasn't completely certain what to do.

Not that she hadn't been thinking about it, about him—but while she knew it was cowardly of her, she'd found it easier to bury herself in work and other obligations for a few days than to confront everything. The revelation that he'd been in love with her for so long had forced her to go back and reevaluate their entire relationship. It was right, of course, that she'd never known in the beginning, or after Jack died, when they'd both been grieving; he'd done the honorable thing in never saying anything. And she could understand why, though it had hurt a great deal at the time, he'd dropped out of sight after that. But their friendship had always been a close one before the accident, and had quickly redeveloped into an even stronger one in the past year…and she still had never known.

As they were friends again in their own right, though—and she did have to admit she knew they'd always had chemistry between them, and definitely did now—did that really make things all right now? She thought, with a smile, about Wesley's earnest attempt at reassurance before he left. He hadn't known about this, of course, but even so, she thought that he was probably right—Jack always had wanted her to be happy, and he probably wouldn't even be upset with Jean-Luc. With that remarkable generosity of spirit he'd always had, along with his self-assured bluntness and practicality, she could almost picture him grinning and elbowing Jean-Luc as he had a million times, teasing that he wouldn't hold it against him, because he himself wasn't there anymore, and besides, really, who could blame the captain for liking his gorgeous, talented wife? (To much eye-rolling on her part, he had described her to Walker and Jean-Luc that way on more than one occasion...)

It wasn't as though Jean-Luc had wanted to have those feelings at first, after all—he'd obviously struggled with guilt about it, but it seemed he couldn't help it. So he'd done the next best thing, from his perspective, and kept his peace. It must have been difficult for him, but he'd never once been anything other than proper in that regard in their company, or later in just hers. Well, she amended, he was fairly gruff and aloof for awhile there when she first came to the Enterprise, but now she understood better why, and anyway she'd just taken it to be part of his exasperating charm.

Still, she believed that he had never meant to be dishonest with her, and she knew there was nothing dishonest about their friendship or the affection between them. He was only trying to be loyal and respectful. How could she fault him for that? She'd just been so... taken aback, that night, by the knowledge, that she needed time to think...

So she'd been thinking, and now, if she knew that she couldn't fault him for what he'd felt and what he'd done then, especially since she cared so much for him—even, yes, loved him, too—then if they were ever to move past this, she had to absolve him of that guilt.

And she wanted to. Because the truth was that being separated from his friendship was making her miserable.

Even more than that, she admitted, for that brief moment in his arms, kissing him, as she felt the heat rise and the fear melt away, everything had felt perfect. Every part of her was aching to feel that way again.

Resolved, Beverly pushed back from her desk and headed out of her office. She came around the corner to find Jean-Luc and, unexpectedly, Data, both still in dress uniform, speaking softly over the Juarez baby's bassinet and regarding the newborn with a sense of wonder—or at least, in Data's case, curiosity.

"Welcome aboard."

She heard Jean-Luc's whispered words and felt a part of her melt at his open expression as he gently touched the baby's blanket. She took a deep breath to steady herself as she approached them. "I see you've met little Marco."

Picard nodded, studying the infant's quiet, alert gaze a moment longer before risking a look up at Beverly. Her own blue eyes showed fatigue from the long day, but her posture seemed less guarded than it had since their dinner. He allowed himself a faint hope that this was a positive sign, that maybe it was all right that he'd decided to come by, and they might be able to talk...

Data held up a finger over his lips, in exaggerated imitation of the captain's gesture a few moments prior, and Picard caught an amused look on Beverly's face as they all stepped away to be outside the nursery. "Doctor," Data said, "I wanted to thank you again for your instruction earlier. It was most helpful."

She shot a quick glance at Jean-Luc, hoping he didn't know what the android was talking about, and motioned for Data to stop. "You're welcome, Data. I'm so glad it went well. How did the rest of the wedding go?"

Data started to tell her in more detail but, noticing a similar expression on both the captain and the doctor's faces and inferring that the two might not really want him to continue at the present moment, he paused. "Perhaps I can fill you in later," he amended, using what he hoped was the appropriate colloquialism. "It appears that you both are...tired. It has been a full day."

"Indeed, Mr. Data," Picard agreed. "Perhaps we should call it a night. Congratulations on your fine evening."

"Thank you, sir. Captain, Doctor. I shall see you tomorrow morning."

Picard shifted somewhat uncomfortably as the android departed sickbay, glancing at Beverly and wondering how best to continue under the circumstances...he'd come here resolved to see her, but he still wasn't certain whether or not she really wanted to see him. "Doctor," he began, trying to resist the impulse to tug on the too-constricting collar of his uniform top.

"Captain," she replied, then tried a smile. "Jean-Luc. I know we need to talk." Her fingers played nervously over her thighs. "Are you free now?"

He nodded and clasped his hands in front of him. "Yes, of course." He hesitated, then asked cautiously, "Would you like to come back to my quarters?"

"Yes, that sounds fine." She fell into step beside him and they walked in unaccustomed silence. She cringed inwardly at the formal distance he was placing between them, but she knew he was only trying to respect her own wishes. But I don't want it to be like this. Unable to stand the tension any longer, she searched for a safe topic to break the ice until they could reach his quarters. "So, how did the wedding go?"

"Oh, very well," he answered, sounding relieved. "Chief O'Brien was quite happy, and Miss Ishikawa looked lovely. I noticed she danced very nicely with the 'father' of the bride, too. I didn't know Mr. Data could dance." He cast a sideways glance at her as they exited the turbolift on his deck, realization striking him as he recalled Data's earlier words. "May I presume he might have had some instruction from you?"

Beverly's cheeks colored. "Ah, yes, actually. He did. He asked me to teach him how to dance earlier today. Of course, at first I taught him tap dancing."

"Tap dancing?" he repeated in bemusement.

"Yes, he had somehow neglected to mention he wanted to dance at the wedding." She shook her head, smiling at the recollection. "So then we sorted it out and I taught him something more appropriate. I'm glad it worked out."

Picard studiously kept his eyes forward, but the humor came through in his voice. "Well, I'm sorry I missed the return of the dancing doctor."

She turned to face him as they entered his quarters, narrowing her eyes at him in feigned indignation. "I swore Data to secrecy, Jean-Luc, so you better not out me now."

"Your secret was always safe with me," he assured her gravely.

"Hmph." But she couldn't help a smile from escaping. Of course she could trust him; she always had. Jean-Luc was the only other person on board who even knew about the nickname, because he'd been around when she'd been tagged with it in medical school, but he'd never breathed a word. There was something special, she mused, about having a friend who'd known you so long, while so many others passed in and out of life over time.

There was something special about him, in particular.

"Still, as I said," he continued, "I am sorry I missed it."

All right, now he was just pressing his luck. "Jean-Luc, you hate dancing," she reminded him, folding her arms in front of her and raising an eyebrow at him.

Picard shrugged, the slight smile back on his face. Even weary after a long day of work, she was still as beautiful as ever—and that lively skepticism she seemed to reserve for him could always inspire him to meet her challenge. "It depends on the company."

At the glimmer in his eyes, Beverly swallowed once, suddenly noticing—and wondering how she'd ever forgotten—how seriously attractive he looked in dress uniform. "So if I'd asked you to dance at the wedding, you would have?"

"With pleasure." She thought he'd meant it come out somewhat lighter than it did, which was, instead, with a low intensity that made her breath catch a bit. God, it was far too easy to fall into this dynamic with him, that made all her senses come alive as the heat between them began to throw off sparks. Even after everything that had happened...

Thinking along similar lines, his smile faded and he cleared his throat, stepping backwards and looking away. He noticed the closed book and half-drained mug of tea on his coffee table and grimaced slightly. "Well. May I—get you anything to drink?" he asked formally.

Not wanting him to retreat again, Beverly shook her head. "No, I'm fine. I just—wanted to talk." He looked back to her, hazel eyes flashing for a moment with longing that was quickly suppressed, but it was enough to start her heart beating faster again. She summoned her resolve and took a step towards him, saw the muscles twitch in his cheek as he held himself still, waiting to hear what she was going to say. And it was surprisingly simple to decide how to begin: "I don't want you to feel guilty anymore," she said softly.

He didn't move for a moment, and she could see in his eyes that though he wanted to, he couldn't quite accept what she was saying. "It's...somewhat difficult not to," he admitted at last. "I should never have felt that way, and I knew it."

"Jean-Luc, you were a good friend to Jack," she insisted, putting as much conviction as she could into her quiet words. "You couldn't help the way you felt, but I know you never meant for anything to happen. But that was a long time ago, and you shouldn't still feel guilty now."

Slowly he nodded, finally, gratefully accepting the absolution she was offering, feeling the weight of years lifting from him in the light of her confident assurances. No wonder that he loved her—her grace and generosity were truly astonishing.

Then the smile began to reappear his face as he contemplated the fuller import of her words. "I believe I may have said this before, Beverly, but I do love you," he murmured, smiling more broadly at the blush spreading across her lovely features. "Though I suppose it wasn't misstating things to say our situation was complicated, was it?"

Beverly shook her head again, this time with a rueful look. "No. We have a history and it will always be there. But I want what we have now." She paused, then pushed ahead bravely. "Because I love you, too."

The joyful relief flooded fully into his consciousness and he momentarily forgot to breathe. Staring into her hopeful, impossibly blue eyes, he lifted his hands to her face almost reverently, brought her parted lips to his, and kissed her.

Deeply. Without reservation. The way he had always longed to.

And now the heat ignited, and she was responding urgently, fiercely, stumbling with him towards the couch, bumping into the coffee table before they fell against the cushions and he pulled her down against his body, hardening with desire. She gasped at how good it felt as she melted against him, his lips and his hands urging her ever closer.

Straddling him now, she pushed up, auburn hair falling across her face as she looked down at him, and she felt another rush as she saw the answering intensity his dark eyes, heard his low whisper of her name. With a swift movement she lowered herself to cover his mouth again with hers.

And then she felt him move a bit awkwardly underneath her and she broke off, breathing heavily, to find a terribly frustrated look on his face. "This damned uniform," he muttered in explanation, trying to adjust the uncomfortable, constraining fabric.

"It's all right," she breathed, leaning in to kiss him once more before giving a wide, teasing grin. She was about to suggest that she could help take it off—

And then she yawned.

He couldn't help it—he laughed out loud. "Beverly. Are you growing tired of me already?"

"No, it's just—it's been a long day," she protested sheepishly, moving off of him to settle beside him in grudging acquiescence to her body's fatigue. "I'm so sorry, Jean-Luc."

Yielding to the reality of the late hour, Picard took a few deep breaths to slow his own racing heart, then shifted to draw her closer as she pulled her legs up on the couch and rested against his chest. He supposed there would be plenty of time later to finish what they'd begun, but as for now... "I'm hardly in a position to mind, now am I?"

"Good, because I'm not sure I can move from here," she murmured, her voice growing sleepy. Jean-Luc was amazingly warm and comfortable, and she could feel all of her energy rapidly evaporating as she wrapped an arm around his waist. It had been a very long time since she'd fallen asleep with a man, she mused...and even allowing they were both fully clothed, it was an incredibly heady feeling. They would have to do this more often in the future...among other things.

He felt her relax heavily against him and he smiled in wonderment, pressing his lips against her forehead. A few short weeks ago he'd been grateful merely to be alive, to be home here on his ship and to know the reassuring comfort of her presence nearby. But now—Beverly was with him, in his arms, and somehow, beyond all his hopes, she actually loved him. Closing his own eyes now, he tightened his arms around her and she snuggled even closer. He smiled again. With her—it would be good to sleep.

FIN