It's been a week since we wrapped everything up at Farpoint, and after that baptism of fire, the crew is starting to settle into something resembling a routine on this new Enterprise. As for me, I've finally finished reviewing and updating the crew's medical files, and I'm going off duty, well satisfied with my accomplishment.

As the turbolift doors open, I'm surprised to find myself face to face with the Captain. For second, I contemplate waiting until later. The chances of bumping into him twice running are rather remote. I'm sure the android, Data, would be perfectly willing to calculate the odds, but – I decide I'm being silly and step into the 'lift before the moment stretches and becomes even more awkward.

"Doctor," he says stiffly.

"Captain," I respond with equal stiffness.

We descend in silence. The Captain shifts, his discomfort obvious, and it takes considerable effort for me to avoid doing likewise. I wish the lift would hurry up- or stop at another deck and take on more travellers. To my surprise, he's the one who breaks the quiet.

"How's Wesley?" he asks.

I stare at him, startled. Of all the questions he could ask, I hadn't expected that one after the contretemps on the Bridge. I shrug and try to smile easily.

"In school, I hope!"

The Captain fidgets with his top, and I eye him curiously. He glances at me, and then- "Doctor-"

"Yes, Captain?" I say demurely.

He glares at me, and seems to realise that we're still moving. "Computer, halt!" he barks. The lift stops instantly and I know my eyebrows are climbing towards my hair.

"Sir?" I prompt.

He runs his hand over his smooth head. "Doctor, I wanted to apologise for last week," he says at last. "I shouldn't have shouted at you- or your son- and I shouldn't have ordered you from the Bridge in the way I did. Especially since, as you pointed out, your son was perfectly correct in identifying the perimeter alert."

"Thank you, sir," I say with dignity. I'm not going to tell him it's all right, because it isn't. Regardless of our personal history, I'm still a senior officer- and it was he who invited my son onto his Bridge. His unceremonious dismissal of us has rankled ever since.

He shifts his weight once more, looking even more uncomfortable, if that's possible. Determined not to let him affect me, I use my dancer's training to balance my body as gracefully as I can.

"I'm sorry," he says again, in a rather different tone. I know he means it. He manages to smile, and I find myself staring. I'd forgotten how his smile transforms his stern features. "Your son knows a remarkable amount about starship operations," he says. "He's evidently had a good teacher."

I relax and smile at him. Praise of Wesley always makes me happy. "Thank you, Captain," I say. I allow my smile to widen. "You've just won this mother's heart."

I'm amused that the tips of his ears have reddened at my words. He pulls at his uniform top again, and it occurs to me that perhaps that gesture is to him what crossing my arms across my lab coat is to me- a means of protection.

"He's so like Jack," he murmurs softly.

I stiffen.

Jean-Luc looks horrified. I don't think he meant to say that aloud- and I certainly hadn't expected to hear it. All the same, it's the truth- and as I look at the Captain now, knowing that he is thinking of my husband and his best friend, I recognise the emotion in those hazel eyes. Guilt. Still there, after all these years. I force myself to speak.

"Yes," I say quietly, deliberately looking into his eyes. "Wesley is very like his father- in looks, and in character."

"Yes," he says. He looks at his hands.

I wonder whether I should pre-empt him and give the command for the computer to resume.

"Doctor," he says, rather abruptly.

I look up at him again, and realise that, somehow, we've moved closer together- almost, but not quite touching.

"Doctor, I'd like us to be friends," he says. His voice is formal, but there's something else in his eyes. I wonder what it is. Hope? Desperation? Loneliness? All of those are only too familiar to me.

I meet his gaze, and hold it, before I reply. "I'd like that too," I say softly. "And my friends call me 'Beverly'," I add, remembering that those were the first words I said to him a lifetime ago. I look down to hide the film of tears I know is forming over my eyes.

For the first time since I came aboard the Enterprise, he does not seem wary of facing me squarely. "And mine call me 'Jean-Luc'," he says, with a ghost of his old rare grin. Tentatively, he holds out his hand.

Equally tentatively, I reach out to take it. We do not shake. The clasp is gentle, but firm and warm. Something tightly knotted inside me begins to unravel, and I know from the look in the eyes facing mine that he feels the same.

Slowly, reluctantly, we let each other go. He turns and orders the 'lift to resume its journey to the Bridge. I add that I want to stop at Deck Eight.

Almost too quickly, the lift draws to a stop. I put a hand on the sensor button for opening the doors.

"Until later, Jean-Luc," I say, surprising myself with the ease with which I still pronounce it, even after all these years. Jack was never able to get his tongue around the French 'J', let alone the 'ea' sound.

He smiles at me. "Until later, Beverly." I love the way he says my name, with that slight roll of the 'r'. I always did.

I return his smile and step out. I turn and we hold the smile for the split second it takes for the 'lift doors to close.

I feel as if I'm walking on air as I return to my quarters. Coming aboard the Enterprise was the right thing to do, I tell myself. I'm still smiling.

Anything is possible.