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She knows what this is. The post-battle euphoria, the gasp, and the release of tension. A return to safety. They will regroup, take stock of the damage and figure out what’s next. There are still questions out there, and a threat to her son. Their son.
But for now, the desire to seek company, the reassurance in life, humanity is strong. God knows they both indulged in it after other great adventures and battles they nearly did not return from. It kick-started a few rounds of their on and off again affair.
This time though, 24 years displaced, it's a moment charged with the awe of new life, of exploration. It's too much to resist.
What will it feel like? To touch him after all this time. Will it be different in his new body? Does his heart feel the same? In the darkest moments of lonely nights when she questioned every decision, regrets piled high on her mind; she curled tighter in her bunk and remembered the cadence of his heart under her ear, the tiny lud-dub-bub. A minor difference from her own, so slight that only your doctor, your lover, would notice.
Would the warmth of his skin be the same under her fingertips? Hers under his?
It had taken all her control standing there beside him on the bridge. Her fingers on the chair, itching to touch him. To close the distance and caress the back of his neck. To see if she could make him shudder still.
Jesus, she was never going to sleep like this.
****
She quickly inquires to the computer and finds him in the holodeck, sleep clearly escaping him as well. He doesn't look up from his glass during her approach and settles on the stool near to him at the bar.
"Ten Forward?"
"Yes. Its..."
"I know. I remember."
The pause sits between them. He still hasn't looked at her.
"Jean Luc.." she starts but trails off. What else can she say? He made his anger known. She can't blame him for it, but she hopes the last hours, the danger to Jack, helps him understand, perhaps even relate to her fears.
"I didn't intend," she swallows hard. She'll not continue to make excuses. "Jack never told me why he chose what he did. But I didn't push."
"No," he grunts.
And she's ready to rebuff. But Picard continues, finally meeting her eyes, "I did that on my own."
The confusion must show on her face.
"He found me here one day. Surrounded by cadets, telling old stories, and I rebuffed him. A stranger asked about my life outside of Starfleet. The lack of it, really. Just like his mother."
"Jean Luc, I wasn't."
"No," he cuts her off. He moves his hand close to hers on the glossy bar top, but still not touching. They haven't yet since Will Riker dragged her injured body to the bridge, and she had to stare into her lover's face and plead with him that their son was worth saving.
"You deserved more. You both did. I was so blind. Loyal to service that never saw me as more than a tool, a figurehead. Or worse, a reckless symbol of destruction."
She doesn't dare interrupt him now.
"I've had chances recently to reexamine. To relive past mistakes in this new body."
Slowly, halting, he tells her about his adventures on La Sierena, Soji, Jurarti, the Borg queen, Rios, and finally, the gift of Q's last act. It's brief, just the highlights, but she is adept at reading between the lines.
"I wasn't chasing stars, I was running away to them. And my father, heartbroken, saw only the foolish boy who stole away his love. A situation far more complicated than a young boy could understand."
Beverly feels the tears on her cheeks. How often did she wish for this? A deeper emotional admission from her stoic captain.
"I don't know what coming, Beverly. But I won't let him be hurt. Not while I have breath. Nor you."
She had to touch him then, laying her hand on his right. His skin is warm, mottled with age like hers. What does he think of her now? Does he still feel the attraction? Does he look at her, hair darker and grey, face drawn by time and trial, and have the same pulse race he once did?
But one good line, one deeper admission of his emotional truth, can't compensate for years of pain. Years of guarded intimacy, conditional love. But that was their issue, two passionate, headstrong fools. Too scared to love, to risk that connection. Pulling at each other while pushing it all away when one of them scratched too deeply into the other's soul. Oh, but the rewards when she did surrender. Those memories sustained her for so long.
She's seen his dashing smile in their son's eyes, that charm and concern for others.
Staring into his eyes now, she can feel her resolve slipping and she's terrified all over again.
"I think I need a drink."