INCIDENTALLY YOURS
by Allison Martens

Copyright 1995
Paramount owns all the marbles.  I just play with them.
Don't even think of reprinting this for any kind of profit or personal 
glory.  (That violates the big P's ownership of all things Trek!)  
AND  Don't even think of stealing this idea from me, unless you are 
from Paramount.  Then by all means feel free to take this idea and 
run with it.  I support any and all ways of getting Picard and 
Crusher together!  ;-)

Author's Note:  This story takes place during the early part of the 
7th season of TNG and is definitely pre-Attached.


**1**

"Damn!" Jean-Luc exclaimed as he read the information being 
displayed on his pilot console.

"What is it?" Beverly asked, popping her head up from the medical 
journal she had been reading.

"It is a warning from the Kensabbi Relay Station.  The Bendar and 
the Riishan have declared war again," he explained.  'When are 
these two empires not at war,' Jean-Luc thought with disgust.  
"Consequently, the Riishan have cut off the Bendarian Straits.  We 
are going to have to find another way around to the rendezvous 
point with the Enterprise."

"Great," Beverly offered sarcastically.  They were not traveling 
through the safest part of the galaxy, and the Bendarian Straits were 
generally the only route of travel Starfleet recommended for use by 
Federation citizens in this part of the quadrant.

"My thought exactly," Jean-Luc replied with an exasperated smile, 
as he called up a star chart on his console.  Sneaking his way home 
through hostile space was not the way he wanted to end this shore 
leave.  It had gone so well.  So far.  The captain had been wanting 
to revisit Professor Galen's dig site on Gorden 9 for years now.  
That desire only heightening since Galen's death last year.  Jean-Luc 
had spent one summer vacation during his academy days at the site 
and, in all the years since, he had never managed to shake from his 
mind the romantic appeal of the ruins.  The fact that he had been able 
to show Beverly this secret treasure, hidden away in a far corner of 
the quadrant, had made the return that much sweeter.  He was still 
somewhat dubious of her little 'coincidence.'  How often did 
remote, non-Federation planets decide to host a lecture series on the 
very topic of Beverly's last research project.  But it didn't really 
matter.  All that counted was that she had wanted to accompany him, 
had wanted to be with him to support him and to share this with him 
as his friend and, maybe, he couldn't help but think, as something 
more.  Now, he just wanted to get her home safely.  Get started on 
the future, which looked as though it would now possibly be a 
shared venture.

"So what is our best bet Jean-Luc?" Beverly asked matter-of-factly, 
as she examined the star chart from over his shoulder.

"Well, we can cut through the Benore System, but unfortunately that 
area of space is riddled with pirates and marauders, criminals of 
every kind.  Pretty risky.  A Ferengi wouldn't even go through there 
if you offered him a thousand bars of gold pressed latinum."

"Okay ... got anything better?" Beverly laughed.

"I don't know if it could be described as better, but the other 
possibility is the Bryndaal System.  It would take about eighteen 
hours longer than the Benore Route, but the number of dangers in 
our path would be greatly reduced," Jean-Luc explained.

"But haven't the Bryndaali declared war against the Federation?" 
Beverly interrupted.

"Well ... yes.  We just haven't paid much attention for the last 
twenty years.  They don't have the technological capability to pose 
any threat.  And that war declaration is just a lot of posturing by a 
rather aggressive race."

"Umm Jean-Luc, that sounds all well and good when we are sitting 
on the Federation flagship cruising through our own space, but 
*not* when we are on a lightly armed shuttle poking around in their 
backyard."

"I don't disagree Beverly," he answered calmly, ignoring the 
flickering of that famous Howard temper.  "I simply said the 
number of dangers would be less this way, *not* necessarily the 
quality of those dangers."

Beverly flashed him a crooked smile as she dropped into the co-
pilot's seat.  "Semantics," she huffed.

"If we go through the Benore System we have a better than even 
chance of getting captured by renegades, having our ship stolen and 
ourselves sold into black market slavery ..."

"Sounds charming," Beverly interrupted.

"Exactly.  Of course, through the Bryndaal System we have a 
slimmer chance of being captured, since we can get through while 
only passing one inhabited planet."  Jean-Luc paused briefly and 
then began again with a shrug of his shoulders.  "Of course if they 
do get us, we would almost certainly be immediately executed as 
hostile trespassers."  Jean-Luc tried to smile, but he realized how 
foolish he must look with a grin on his face in light of what he had 
just explained.

"I think I prefer the path of least resistance," Beverly offered.

"I agree," Jean-Luc replied.  "Bryndaal it is."  He began inputting 
the proper coordinates when Beverly's voice interrupted him.

"Jean-Luc."

"Hmm?"

"Tell me again why the Federation doesn't have cloaking devices."

**2**

The shuttle was buffeted by phaser fire.  It would be their luck that 
the entire defense force of Bryndaal 3 was up and engaged in 
exercises as they tried to sneak by the dark side of its moon.  They 
could have outrun one, two, even three of these vessels, which 
could only be called warships by the most generous soul.  But all 
four ships of the defense force proved too much, even for an 
accomplished pilot like Picard.

With one engine out, and the other failing, Jean-Luc brought the 
shuttle down on Bryndaali soil.  He and Beverly gripped their 
phasers tightly, as they stood defensively against the back of the 
bulkhead, waiting for the inevitable capture.  A large Bryndaali party 
blasted its way in, giving them no other option but surrender.  The 
Bryndaali were a humanoid species, similar in size and stature to 
Klingons, but lacking ridged foreheads and possessing skin of an 
orange rather than brown hue.  Like Klingons, they were crude and 
warlike, and not at all the kind of species you wanted to engage in a 
last stand.  The boarding party grabbed Picard and Crusher, roughly 
forcing them out of the craft.

The prisoners were led on a forced march to the nearest settlement, 
which was over six kilometers from the crash site.  As they walked 
in the heat of the midday sun, Jean-Luc stayed as close to Beverly as 
he could, but their captors did not allow them to speak.  He could 
not tell her to be brave, in spite of her ashen complexion which gave 
away her fear.  Nor could he reassure her that he would figure a 
way out for them.  Jean-Luc knew that Beverly was an adult, fully 
capable of taking care of herself, but that did not stop him from 
worrying, or from wanting to protect her.  He would never forgive 
himself if this romantic fancy of his to see the ruins of Gorden 9 
again cost Beverly her life.

They reached the edge of a small town, and the residents came out to 
see the aliens captured by their mighty military, jeering the prisoners 
as they marched.  Finally, they reached what resembled the local jail 
and were led inside.  Confined in a small cell, without being given 
any explanation as to what their fate held, Beverly and Jean-Luc 
were finally alone enough to talk.

"Are you all right?" Jean-Luc asked, as he sat beside Beverly on the 
rough bench built into the wall. 

"I've been better," she croaked in return, dehydrated from the 
march.  She forced a smile, but Jean-Luc was not fooled.  He knew 
she had to be as frightened as he was, which meant she was 
absolutely terrified.  The Bryndaali did not exactly care much for 
treaties or rules of war.  Nothing would please them more than 
publicly executing a couple of Starfleet officers.  

He reached out and tenderly pushed the dampened bangs off her 
forehead, tucking a few of the longer strands behind her ear.  "Don't 
worry Beverly.  We'll figure something out."

Now she laughed.  "Jean-Luc, if you are thinking of escaping from 
this jail, from this planet, then I think you were out baking in the 
sun a little too long."

"It is true.  Escape would be a long shot, but there are other ways of 
getting out of this."

"For example?" she demanded.

"Negotiation for one," Jean-Luc began.  Beverly did not give him a 
chance to finish.

"With Bryndaali?  Jean-Luc, they make Worf look like a 
Renaissance man."

"I realize that it is not the ultimate solution, but we have got to at 
least stall them."  Jean-Luc waved her in closer as continued in a 
whisper.  "I managed to get off a distress message before we went 
down, informing Starfleet that we were being forced down on 
Bryndaal 3.  The Enterprise is probably the closest ship.  I've been 
working it through in my head.  Considering their probable location 
at the time they receive the distress call, and factoring in the time it 
would take them to reach this system at maximum warp, I estimate 
that they can reach Bryndaal 3 within anywhere from 21 to 23 
hours.  The Bryndaali are no match for the Enterprise, and they have 
no defensive shields or weapons planetside.  Will can simply 
assume orbit and beam us right off the surface."

"So we just have to stay alive for one day," Beverly said, 
brightening slightly.

"Exactly."  Jean-Luc's tone was not quite as forceful as he would 
have liked, but he was finding it hard to think about anything else 
but losing Beverly at the moment.  Somehow he would find a way 
to keep them alive until tomorrow.  After this past week, he had 
plenty of motivation.

Beverly pulled her legs up underneath her, hugging them close.  For 
her, the more compact she made herself, the more comfortable and 
secure she became.  She leaned her head back against the wall and 
closed her eyes.  "Maybe getting sold into slavery wouldn't have 
been so bad," she teased, as she pondered the torture devices they 
had seen on their way to this cell.  She could hear his groan in 
response to her black humor, and she couldn't help but wonder if 
she shouldn't just break down right here and now and confess 
everything that was in her heart to him.  But, as always, she became 
paralyzed by fear.  The feel of a Bryndaali poison lash against her 
back would be preferable to the possibility of those words falling on 
deaf ears.  She might die still burdened by this unconfessed love for 
her dead husband's best friend, but at least she would go out with 
her dignity intact.  Certainly, this life-threatening situation suffered 
from abominable bad timing, considering how much progress had 
been made between them since they had gotten away from the 
familiar demons of the Enterprise.  Beverly began to doze off,  
comfortably, instinctively, easing herself onto the shoulder that had 
been silently offered her.

**3**

Beverly did not know if it had been minutes or hours since she had 
fallen asleep, when the sound of many voices disturbed her.  She 
opened her eyes to find Jean-Luc standing near the entrance of their 
cell, carefully observing the hubbub outside.  "Jean-Luc, what's 
going on?"

"It would seem that a figure of some importance is about to make an 
appearance," he explained.  "Probably the Bryndaali equivalent of a 
governor or prime minister, or perhaps a military general."

"Well let's hope he moonlights as a waiter."

Jean-Luc laughed as he crossed back over to her and joined her on 
the bench.  "I'm glad to see you have retained your sense of 
humor."

"Oh most definitely.  In fact, if they dare execute us on an empty 
stomach, I intend to file a grievance under the Seldonis 
Convention."

"Beverly," Jean-Luc scolded, unamused at her joke.  He didn't even 
like to kid about the possibility of her death.  "Nobody is getting 
executed.  So let's keep a positive attitude."

Before she could protest his optimism, a rather imposing Bryndaali 
swept into their cell, bringing an entire honor guard with him.  He 
was bedecked with so many medals and ribbons, that Beverly felt 
the need to squint as the light flashed off all that shiny metal.  "I am 
Goser, High Minister of the Third Planet of the Bryndaali Alliance," 
he announced proudly.  

Jean-Luc, ever the diplomat, stood as a show of respect, pulling 
Beverly to her feet with him.  "Minister, I must ask why our vessel 
was attacked.  We pose no threat to the Bryndaali Alliance."

"You are Federation scum," he interrupted, "and enemies of the 
state.  We are at war, and your presence was an aggressive act 
against us.  As our prisoners you will be executed."

"Minister," Jean-Luc responded forcefully, "I must point out that 
execution of prisoners of war is in violation of the Seldonis 
Convention.  Murdering us will bring dire consequences to your 
Alliance."

"From Federation cowards?  We do not fear your *consequences*.  
We are at war."  Goser's pronouncement brought several cheers 
from his men, as well as from the group of local officials that had 
crowded around the outside of the cell to listen to the great Goser 
speak.  Beverly bit her lip, not daring to say what she thought of 
Goser and his people's mighty military of four ships, now five if 
you counted their downed Federation shuttle.

Jean-Luc remained calm.  "Surely we can discuss our differences 
Minister.  Negotiate an equitable solution."

"Bryndaali don't *negotiate* with humans," Goser sneered.  He 
turned to his men.  "The prisoners will die before the masses.  We 
shall show the Federation what we think of them.  Send out the 
word.  They shall die tomorrow at the ascendant hour."  It would be 
their misfortune to fall into the clutches of a warlord anxious to 
make his mark in interstellar politics.

"Ascendant hour?" Beverly whispered into Jean-Luc's ear.

"Probably midday," Jean-Luc guessed.

"High noon?  How poetic."

This time Jean-Luc never got the chance to scold her for her 
sarcasm, for Goser demanded that the prisoners be separated.  As 
the Bryndaali dragged Jean-Luc away, Beverly watched in 
desperation.  She did not want to spend the last night of her life 
alone or, more to the point, without Jean-Luc.  Folding herself into 
a small ball in the corner, she fought the urge to cry.  Dying with her 
dignity intact was not all that she had imagined.  Not even the 
sudden appearance of a tray of food could brighten her spirits.

**4**

Jean-Luc paced his cell furiously.  Sleep had only come in fits last 
night, but he refused to allow the signals his body sent him dull his 
concentration.  He needed some kind of plan, any kind of plan to get 
Beverly and himself out of this mess.  Negotiation was obviously 
not an option, since Goser refused to even listen.  Reasoning with a 
Bryndaali was a futile exercise.  And escape would obviously fail, 
considering that an entire Bryndaali regimen would have their 
weapons trained on them.  But somehow, he had to buy some time.  
According to his calculations, the Enterprise would undoubtedly be 
arriving some time shortly after midday.  Delay would now have to 
be their tactic.  Jean-Luc searched his mind for a way to stall a 
Bryndaali execution.  Methodically, he began to analyze his enemy, 
searching for a viable way of putting them off.

Before he could come up with a plan, a group of Bryndaali burst 
into his cell.  "It is time," one of them huffed, as they pushed Picard 
out of the cell, and began marching him through the streets.  They 
reached a large open field, which seemed to function as a sort of 
town green.  The convoy worked its way through the masses of 
people until they reached the front.  It was then that Jean-Luc saw 
what the Bryndaali had in store for their prisoners.  A sort of 
wooden platform had been erected with a tall wood post running up 
through its middle.  Large piles of kindling had been stacked around 
and beneath the structure.  Jean-Luc felt a shudder run through him 
at the thought of being burned alive before this cheering hoard.

Goser stood atop the platform, gleefully waiting for his victims to 
join him.  Jean-Luc turned towards the crowd as he reached the top 
of the structure, only to see Beverly being shoved along the same 
route he had traveled.  He resisted the urge to reach out and hug her 
close to him, as she came to stand next him.  Instead, Jean-Luc took 
her hand in his own and squeezed it tightly.  Goser began to speak 
to the crowd, but Picard paid no attention.  He was too busy 
regretting all that he had never told Beverly, all the things they 
never would share.  Suddenly, he was struck by inspiration.  As 
Goser finished his speech, Jean-Luc whispered in Beverly's ear.  
"Just follow my lead."

"So humans, will you die honorably, or as cowards?" Goser 
questioned, as his guards pulled Beverly and Jean-Luc towards the 
post, preparing to lash them to it.

"We will die honorably," Jean-Luc answered.  "But we make one 
request."

"Make it then."

"We wish to face death as husband and wife."  Jean-Luc's request 
nearly knocked the breath from Beverly's body, but she maintained 
her composure, quickly realizing the cleverness of his tactic.  The 
Bryndaali were a ritualistic people.  They would likely treat a request 
such as this with great deference, recognizing the necessity of 
ceremonially becoming one in order to die as one.  Beverly found 
herself hoping that the Bryndaali marriage rite consisted of a very 
long ceremony.

"You want to become mates?"

"Yes," Beverly answered smiling.  Her grin communicating to Jean-
Luc that she understood his plan, and perhaps also telling him that if 
all did not go well, she at least liked the idea of leaving this life as 
Madame Picard.

"Very well."  Goser signaled his men.  A few minutes later, an old 
Bryndaali, dressed in a different style of ceremonial garb, mounted 
the platform.  He approached Jean-Luc and Beverly slowly, looking 
at them with great displeasure.  He was obviously unhappy at 
having to lower himself to perform a sacred Bryndaali rite for the 
benefit of humans.  Goser introduced him as Gidal, a keeper of the 
faith.  Gidal directed them to stand side by side in front of him.  
Unsheathing a jewel-encrusted dagger, he quickly grabbed 
Beverly's left hand and opened a large gash across her palm.

Just as quickly, Beverly slapped him across the face with her free 
hand, causing him to fall backwards off the platform and into the 
dirt.  Several of the guards leapt forward, grabbing Beverly and 
forcing her down to her knees.  Goser fought back the urge to 
laugh, as the old man struggled in the dirt to get up, his dignity 
bruised.  With great ire, he turned back to the offender and 
demanded to know why she had struck the old Bryndaali.  She only 
stared at him in return.

Seeing the wonderful opportunity Beverly had given him to stall, 
Jean-Luc interceded.  "Please Goser, let me explain.  She only 
thought he was attacking her.  Human mating rituals do not involve 
violence."  Goser did not seem impressed.  "Allow me," Jean-Luc 
continued, "to describe human custom to you.  ...  From the first 
moment that man emerged from the oceans, he has felt a need to 
share his life with a mate ..."

Jean-Luc had made it all the way up to the emergence of Christianity 
before Goser silenced him.  "Enough," he shouted.  "You will be 
mated, and then you will die."  He motioned to the old Bryndaali, 
ordering him to resume the ceremony.  

The physician in Beverly could not help but grimace as she watched 
Gidal cut Jean-Luc's left hand with his dagger, which was now 
covered with a mixture of her blood, dirt, and old rust.  Gidal then 
ordered the prisoners to face each other, and join their left hands.  
Beverly grimaced once again at this unsanitary practice.  The old 
Bryndaali tied their left hands together with cording and then spoke.  
He looked at Beverly.  "State your intention."

"Umm, I don't understand," Beverly lied innocently.  "Please 
explain what you want me to do."

"This is where you publicly offer yourself to him," he replied, 
deeply pained by her ignorance.  She responded with a look of total 
innocence and confusion.  Shaking his head, he growled, "just say 
'I give myself to you.'"

"Oh," Beverly replied, slowly and dramatically turning back 
towards Jean-Luc.  "I give myself to you," she said glibly.

Jean-Luc simply smiled in response, until the old Bryndaali reached 
out and shoved him.  "Oh, my turn?" he asked, before turning back 
and making his own equally slow and dramatic declaration.  "I ... 
give ... myself ... to ... you."

"You are mates," the old Bryndaali announced, as he quickly freed 
their hands of the cording, not wanting to give these Federation 
scum even one extra moment of life.  But before Beverly could be 
pulled away by the guards, Jean-Luc pulled her hand to his lips, 
kissing it gently, tasting the saltiness of her sweat and blood.  He 
didn't really no why he had done it.  He had simply acted on instinct 
alone, something his highly rational mind rarely allowed.  As she 
was pulled over to the post, Beverly flashed him a knowing smile, 
tinged with both love and absolution. 

Beverly and Jean-Luc found themselves bound to the pole, their 
backs to one another, but their hands near each other.  Beverly 
reached out with her fingers and entwined them in his, wanting to 
draw on Jean-Luc's strength as she faced this death.  It seemed now 
that their plan had failed to earn their rescue, and yet, somehow, it 
had not been in vain.  Goser faced the crowd, whipping them into a 
frenzy once again as the torches of the guards were lit.  He gave the 
order at last, and the wall of flames leapt high into the air, obscuring 
for a moment the strange shimmering that suddenly enveloped the 
prisoners.

**5**

The prisoners materialized on the transporter pad of the Enterprise, 
their backs still to one another and their hands still joined.  Beverly 
tentatively opened her eyes, unsure if she really wanted to know 
why she could no longer feel the intense blast of heat upon her face.  
She smiled at the sight of the familiar walls of Transporter Room 3.  
From behind her, she could hear Jean-Luc chuckling quietly in a 
mixture of nervous relief and fiendish self-satisfaction.  She 
couldn't help but laugh too, as Jean-Luc spun her around suddenly, 
wanting to confirm with his own eyes that she too was unharmed 
from the close call with the flames.  But, being all too aware of the 
presence of the transporter chief, the captain fought the urge to wrap 
Beverly in his arms and hug her tight.

Riker's voice came down from the bridge.  "Did you get them?" he 
asked nervously.

"Aye Sir," the chief responded.

"Captain, Doctor, welcome home," came the now relieved voice of 
the first officer.

"Good to be home Number One," Jean-Luc replied, as he frowned 
at Beverly who had now begun blotting his still bleeding hand with 
the sleeve of her uniform.  He hated being fussed over, and besides, 
he did not like the fact that she was ignoring her own injury to treat 
him instead.  "We'll join you on the bridge shortly," he finished.

"After we make a quick stop by Sickbay," Beverly added, pulling 
Jean-Luc off the pad and in the direction of the door.

"Picard out," the captain finished, not really minding her attention 
any longer.  He was too busy enjoying the realization that she would 
be fretting over him for a long time to come.

Half an hour later, the captain and the doctor entered the bridge, 
now healed and properly presentable in clean uniforms.  Smiles and 
greetings were exchanged all around, before the senior staff excused 
itself to the Observation Lounge for the full report.  Picard recounted 
their adventure, finishing with how they escaped a fiery death by 
mere seconds, yet leaving out the exact nature of their delay tactic.  
Beverly smiled at him from across the table.  It might be nice to keep 
their pretend marriage a secret, something for just the two of them to 
laugh over when alone.  She was also not insensitive to the fact that 
this crew might find their 'wedding' just a bit *too* amusing.

Unfortunately, Will Riker had to be curious.  "So you said, Sir, that 
you had to delay the execution, but you didn't say how the two of 
you did it."

"Well Number One," Picard began uncomfortably, "we asked, well, 
in realizing the ritualistic nature of the Bryndaali culture, we 
requested, in order to delay them of course, that they perform the 
Bryndaali marriage rite."

Riker developed one of the biggest smirks Picard had ever seen.  "I 
see Sir," he paused, "how clever."  Muffled chuckles could be heard 
coming from Deanna and Geordi, as they fought to preserve their 
professional demeanor.  But Riker wouldn't let it go at that.  "I 
hope, Sir, that you at least got to kiss the bride."

Beverly's cheeks had turned bright red, but she could not help 
smiling at Will's remark.  She had to admit that the situation was 
damn funny.  Picard fortunately recognized the humor in the 
situation as well.  "A captain never kisses and tells Number One," 
he responded, allowing just a hint of a smile.

"I'm just glad you got us off that planet Will," Beverly joked, "I'd 
hate to have to still be married to a man who thought that being 
burned alive was a romantic honeymoon."

Everyone laughed, except the ever logical Data.  "Doctor, I think it 
should be pointed out," he began, "that, incidental to your escape 
plan, you and the captain may indeed have entered into a legal 
marriage."

The laughter ceased immediately.  "Data, surely you can't be 
serious?" Deanna asked, noticing that all the color had 
simultaneously drained from the cheeks of the 'happy couple'.

"I am quite serious Counselor," the android answered, having 
absolutely no understanding of the unique dynamics of the situation.  
"Federation law recognizes as legal any marriage that would be 
considered valid under the jurisdiction in which it was formed."

"So what you are saying, Data, is that if the Bryndaali consider the 
Captain and Doctor legally married, then they are married under 
Federation law?" Riker asked.

"Correct Commander."

Beverly finally recovered from the shock enough to speak.  "But 
Data, surely a marriage under such circumstances can't be legal?  I 
mean we were just trying to stay alive."

"It is true that Federation law does not recognize marriages formed 
under duress, but duress is normally interpreted as undue pressure 
by one party against another to agree to marriage.  This does not 
apply in your situation."

"So what does that mean?" the captain asked.

"It means, Sir, that the legality of your marriage to Dr. Crusher is an 
open question," Data answered simply.

"So what do we do about it Data?" Beverly asked, trying to fight the 
feeling that she was about to pass out.

"I would recommend that you seek an annulment, just to ensure that 
in the future there would be no question as to your marital status."

Everybody at the table sat in uncomfortable silence.  Nobody 
wanted to face the rather embarrassing situation that had developed.  
It might have all been amusing if it weren't for the fact that most of 
the people at this table believed wholeheartedly that the Captain and 
Doctor belonged together.  And now apparently they were together, 
only it had occurred unintentionally.

"Well thank you Mr. Data for your advice," Picard finally offered, 
breaking the silence.  "Dr. Crusher and I will certainly consider your 
recommendation."  He looked over to Beverly, who barely met his 
gaze.  "Dismissed," he said quietly, noticing the record time in 
which the observation lounge emptied.

"I guess we got a bit more than we bargained for," Beverly offered 
with half a smile, as she looked up at him at last. 

Jean-Luc moved over to her, sitting on the edge of the table just in 
front of her chair.  "I guess so. ... Beverly," he began, clearing his 
throat, "I am not sure if I agree with Data's suggestion that we are 
married, but it is possible that someday it could be asserted that we 
are husband and wife.  I would never want you put in such an 
uncomfortable situation, and so I am willing to file for an annulment 
to head off any questions.  If that is what you would like?"

"Is that what you would like Jean-Luc?" she asked, passing the 
decision back to him, reluctant to be the one to make this choice. 
Beverly found herself a little caught off guard at the emotions she 
was experiencing.  To her own surprise, she was hurt that he would 
consider their being married an 'uncomfortable situation,' and even 
more, that he might consider it undesirable.

"I would like whatever you feel most comfortable with," he 
answered gallantly, not wanting to admit, even to himself, that the 
prospect of dissolving this marriage, that had been formed only as a 
ploy, made him very sad.

"That's no answer Jean-Luc.  I want to know what you really 
think."

"I think," he began quickly, "that I would prefer that you agreed to 
become my wife out of love and not necessity."  As Beverly stared 
back at him, Jean-Luc's eyes went wide with the sudden awareness 
of just exactly how he had phrased his answer.

"Jean-Luc," Beverly began cautiously, almost reluctantly, "if we are 
married, and I'm not at all sure that we actually are married, are you 
suggesting that we stay that way?"

Knocked completely off balance by her question, Jean-Luc got up 
and quickly walked over to the windows.  Looking out on the trails 
of stars, he started slowly.  "It is just that it feels somehow sad to 
put an end to something.  Sadder than simply deciding not to begin 
something at all."  He paused for several moments, listening to the 
silence as he continued to contemplate the stars.  "Beverly have you 
ever thought about the future, about what it will be like?"

"I think about it sometimes."

"Am I in those thoughts?"

At that moment Beverly wanted to do anything but be honest with 
him.  The truth frightened her, made her vulnerable, but she would 
not lie to Jean-Luc.  She never had before, and she knew that she 
never could.  "Yes, Jean-Luc, you are a part of the future that I 
envision for myself."  All she could do now was hope that he would 
go first.  Tell her how he felt, before she had to expose herself any 
further.

"What happens when one of us eventually leaves the Enterprise?" he 
asked, turning to face her once again.  "It is bound to happen sooner 
or later."

"I honestly don't know Jean-Luc.  I guess we try and stay in touch.  
Stay friends."

"Friends," he said laughing nervously.  Jean-Luc wanted 
desperately to believe that she thought of him as more than just a 
friend.  And she had sent him so many signals to suggest that she 
did, but if he was wrong, the costs of suggesting more were so 
great.  He might not only frighten away the closest, most important 
friend he had ever had, but also embarrass a damn fine officer, and 
one of his subordinates, to boot.  But then Jean-Luc reminded 
himself that he was 65 and still alone.  He couldn't be sure that, 
beyond the very slim possibility of Beverly actually giftwrapping 
herself and showing up on his doorstep, he would ever get a better 
chance to tell her how he really felt about her, how he had always 
felt about her.  Jean-Luc knelt down before her and took her hands 
in his.  "Beverly have you ever thought about the possibility of 
becoming more than friends?"

"I'd be a liar if I said I hadn't Jean-Luc."  Beverly smiled as she 
looked down on his face, reading every line in it as easily as if it 
was her first school primer.  "Obviously you have thought about it, 
and quite a lot too."

"Am I that transparent," he asked, squeezing her hands tightly, 
almost willing her with this gesture to give in to how she really felt.

"Only to me," Beverly responded, almost demurely, frightened by 
how perilously close they were coming to the truth of what had 
always been between them.  But all that had happened on Bryndaal 
3 kept her from closing herself off altogether.  It had been so easy to 
promise herself to Jean-Luc then, that Beverly held out hope that she 
could find the courage to someday make that promise to him again.

Jean-Luc edged closer to Beverly, prepared to stop if she pulled 
away, but she did not.  Slowly, he reached up and gently touched 
her lips with his own, holding the kiss only for a moment, not 
wanting to ask too much with this first caress.  "I have wanted to do 
that for a very long time," he whispered, as he looked back into 
Beverly's eyes, drawing confidence from the emotion he saw there.  
"Beverly, I don't think you realize how hard you have made things 
for me of late.  Being in love with your best friend can be very 
complicated."

"I know just how you feel," Beverly replied with a slight smile, but 
before he could reach for another kiss, she pulled back.  "But I'm 
not ready to be married Jean-Luc.  If that is what you were 
suggesting," she finished nervously, not wanting to have offended 
her new love, or have overstepped her grounds.

The smile, that had found its way to his lips when she had admitted 
that she loved him as well, now turned to a smirk.  "Well, I'm not 
entirely sure I'm ready to give up my bachelor ways either.  You 
know how I like doing things my own way."

Beverly arched her brow in response, giving him a look that told 
him that his own way was not long for this world.  "So what do we 
do now?"

"Well, I think we agree, that since it has taken us 25 years to even 
get to the point of admitting our true feelings, skipping right over a 
courtship would be foolish.  Perhaps we should just ignore the 
question of our marital status for now, and concentrate instead on 
getting to know each other on these new terms.  And just let 
everything else work itself out."  The smirk widened.  "Would you 
like to be courted Beverly Crusher?"

"Oh yes," she laughed, his mischievous tone infectious.  "I think I 
would like the whole bit, candy, flowers, romantic dinners ..."

"I think I get the point Beverly," he interrupted.  "Have dinner with 
me then, tonight on the holodeck."

"All right, but only if you promise to bring the good stuff Jean-Luc.  
None of that holo-wine tonight."

"Nothing less than the best for you, my lady," he replied with mock 
gallantry, kissing her hand.  "I shall call for you at 1900 hours 
then."  Jean-Luc pulled Beverly to her feet and kissed her sweetly, 
fighting the urge to turn it into something deeper, as he held her 
close.  "Now, I think," he whispered into her ear, "I had better get 
out of here before I get ahead of myself and blow this whole 
courtship plan to hell."

As Jean-Luc headed on to the bridge, Beverly dropped back into her 
chair, not at all sure of what she had just gotten herself into.  All of 
the doubts came rushing back to her.  But, this time, the cold of the 
old fears could not get past the warmth that danced on her lips.

**6**

Beverly smiled as she called for the doors to her quarters to open.  
Standing just on the other side was Jean-Luc Picard, dressed in an 
old-fashioned black tuxedo, and carrying a dozen red roses and a 
heart-shaped box of candy.  "Isn't that a just a bit over the top Jean-
Luc?" Beverly laughed, as she gestured towards the flowers and 
candy, holdovers from a long lost era.

"I'm just trying to be a good suitor," Jean-Luc replied as he walked 
inside.  "Whatever my lady asks for, my lady shall receive."  He 
could only grin at the incredulous, but wonderfully indecent, look 
she shot him.  It was so refreshing to no longer have to keep the 
attraction between them tightly in check, languishing beneath the 
surface.  Now, they could say and do what was really on their 
minds, let the sparks fly freely.  Well almost.  Jean-Luc could think 
of a few things he'd like to do at the moment that might still be 
considered overstepping.  He examined Beverly's attire, taking great 
pleasure in sizing her up from head to toe, very, very slowly.  She 
was stunning.  Obviously she had taken his message about dressing 
in twentieth century formal wear seriously.  She wore a sleeveless, 
backless emerald gown, that dropped straight from the waist down 
to her toes, managing in the process to reveal just enough to fire the 
imagination, while still keeping all the best things secret.  Mysteries 
Jean-Luc hoped to be given an opportunity to solve.

"So why the old-fashioned clothes Jean-Luc?" Beverly asked, as 
she went about putting her flowers in water.  "Where are we 
going?"

"Isn't it better to be surprised?" he replied, his voice soft and 
velvety, and rich with seduction.  She took the arm he offered and 
followed him out the door, now as amused as she was intrigued.

The doors of the holodeck opened to reveal a dimly lit, narrow, 
cobbled street.  Jean-Luc led Beverly inside, still keeping their 
location a secret.  It was far more fun to let her figure it out for 
herself.  As they walked over a small foot-bridge that spanned a 
canal, Beverly started to get a pretty good idea of where they had 
come.  Strains of music could now be heard on the air, as they 
passed under an archway.  The path opened up onto a large square, 
ringed by a series of small outdoor cafes, each crowded with people 
in formal dress.  Each with its own band, playing their music in 
turn.  The far end of the square was dominated by a large, ancient 
church, its breathtaking mosaics bathed in a soft light so that they 
could be seen against the night sky.

Jean-Luc stopped for a moment to let Beverly take it all in, smiling 
as he watched her face light up at the sight of his creation.  
"Venice?" she whispered.

"Yes," he answered proudly, "the Piazza San Marco, a century 
before it sank beneath the sea."

"It's beautiful," she said quietly, as she dropped her arm out of his 
so that she could hold his hand instead.  He led her to a small cafe 
with an ideal view of the Basilica.  Conveniently enough, this cafe 
had no other patrons.  The other people in the program far enough 
away to give them their privacy, yet near enough to bring the 
enormous square to life around them.  A handsome host approached 
them, motioning them over to a carefully set table.  

Beverly listened to the soft music, marveling at the splendor of the 
Piazza, as the gentle, warm breeze off the Adriatic washed across 
her.  She reached across the table and took Jean-Luc's hand, 
squeezing it gently.  "This was a wonderful choice, Jean-Luc.  
Thank you."

"The night is young.  Please don't thank me yet ..."  Before he 
could continue, their waiter approached the table carrying a bottle of 
wine.

"I thought you were going to bring the real thing Jean-Luc," Beverly 
reminded him, as she watched him examine the label.

"What? You think I did not plan ahead?" he retorted in mock 
indignation, as he instructed the waiter to show the lady the bottle.

"Chateau Picard," she read aloud, blushing slightly.

"Yes, the '47, the best.  It was a gift from my brother.  He told me 
not to drink it alone.  I think that was sound advice."  Jean-Luc 
laughed inwardly as he went through the motions of tasting and 
approving the wine.  As if he would turn down a bottle of his own 
family's best vintage.

The waiter moved over to Beverly.  "Some for the signora?" he 
asked as he began to fill her glass.

"It is signorina," she corrected, and then looking over to Jean-Luc 
with a grin, she finished her statement.  "For now."

As the meal progressed, they seemed to talk about everything, and 
yet nothing at the same time.  Never for a moment tiring of what the 
other had to say.  It was really no different, in that sense, than any 
meal they had ever shared before, only now everything meant so 
much more.  Beverly was moved by how much effort Jean-Luc had 
put into this program, all of the wonderful little touches he had 
included.  It was true that the man was a perfectionist, but she had 
never really pegged him as a romantic.  He even shocked her by 
asking her for a dance before their dessert came.

As they glided about the center of the Piazza, Beverly wondered 
why she had waited so long to let him know how she really felt.  
But had she really?  She knew that she had not yet actually said the 
words to him, although they had run through her mind a thousand 
times.  As if he actually was reading her thoughts, Jean-Luc pulled 
her tighter to him, reassuring her with his closeness, as he brushed 
her cheek with his.  "I love you," she whispered into his ear, the 
words barely audible, yet powerful enough to seemingly reverberate 
throughout the entire square.  Beverly thrilled at the way his breath 
grew short in response, his smile completely perceptible against her 
cheek.

Jean-Luc pulled back slightly to look into her eyes.  The hazel of his 
own clouded with emotion.  He reached up with his hand, gently 
brushing one finger along her jaw-line.  "I love you Beverly," he 
whispered, before reaching in for the most delicate kiss.  He 
wrapped his arms back around her, hugging her tightly, as they did 
little more than sway to the remainder of the song.

As she watched the waiter clear the last of the dessert dishes away, 
Beverly looked back across the table at Jean-Luc.  "This was so 
wonderful Jean-Luc.  Thank you."

Jean-Luc lowered his wine glass from his lips, a small, affected 
scowl on his face.  "Must I remind you again that the night is still 
young."

"I am sorry," Beverly laughed in response.  "Have I been very 
naughty?"

"Nothing you can't make up for."  Jean-Luc grinned madly, 
watching with delight as Beverly's cheeks reddened slightly at his 
less than admirable suggestion.  "Are you ready for the rest of what 
your evening has in store?"

Beverly impetuously reached out and grabbed the Chateau Picard, 
tipping it over.  Not even a drop came out of the bottle.  "I guess we 
have done all that we can do here."  She paused a moment, glorying 
in the slight unsteadiness, the heady freedom, that half a bottle of 
wine can bring.  "What's next?"

Jean-Luc grabbed her by the hand, quickly leading her out of the 
Piazza, past the sparkling pink terra-cotta of the Doge's Palace, and 
out to the mouth of the Grand Canal.  There a gondola awaited 
them, complete with gondolier in traditional costume.  Nestled in 
each other's arms, they sat in silence, as the gondola glided up the 
Grand Canal.  The old buildings of Venice rose out of the water 
around them, like statues bathed in moonlight.  The only sound that 
penetrated the night, besides the gentle lapping of the water against 
their craft, was the voice of their gondolier, as he repeated the 
refrain of an Italian ballad.  

It was nearly impossible for them to tear themselves away from 
Venice, but after their third cruise along the Grand Canal, they both 
knew it was time to leave the holodeck.  Jean-Luc carefully checked 
that he saved the program as they left.  This was a night they both 
knew they would want to relive.  The corridors of the Enterprise 
were nearly deserted, for it was deep into the ship's night, so Jean-
Luc pulled Beverly close to him as they walked.  Ordinarily, he 
never would have behaved so familiarly with anybody, much less a 
crewmember, in public.  But he felt so good tonight, that he would 
have hardly cared if all one thousand members of the crew lined the 
halls to watch.  Love could certainly do strange things to her 
victims.  All that mattered to the new lovers now was that yesterday 
their future had been in doubt, but today it was assured, assured and 
certain to be fuller than they had ever dreamed before.

As they approached Beverly's door, Jean-Luc reminded himself, 
certain parts rather sternly, not to rush things.  This was to be only 
the first date of a courtship, of a process of getting to know one 
another better, slowly and thoroughly.  He knew that if he was to 
show that any respect, he best not allow himself to cross over her 
threshold tonight.  

Beverly stood awkwardly at her doors as they slid opened.  She 
desperately wanted to ask Jean-Luc in, but they had agreed to take 
things slowly.  It was sheer torture, however, knowing that this 
night had to end.  After all of the years of wondering what being 
with Jean-Luc Picard would be like, she had her chance now, but 
her own good sense stood in the way.  Settling for the tender 
goodnight kiss of a first date truly paled in comparison to the 
unabashed lovemaking of a honeymoon night, but she knew that she 
must stick to the choice they had both made.  Doing the mature thing 
felt poor in the extreme.  But Beverly realized that she'd look like a 
fool if she caved in to temptation this quickly.  "Breakfast 
tomorrow, my place?" she asked quietly, as she tried to ignore the 
longing she saw in his eyes.  The longing that she was sure was 
reflected in hers.

"I'll be here," he replied, screaming a silent reminder to keep his 
hands to himself.

"Good. ... Jean-Luc, might I finally be allowed to thank you for this 
wonderful evening?"

"I suppose so," he whispered, cut off suddenly by the taste of her 
lips pressed gently against his.

After only a few moments, Beverly tore herself away.  "Goodnight 
Jean-Luc."

"Goodnight my love," he whispered, as he reached out quickly to 
brush her cheek before she disappeared.

Beverly smiled as she slipped through the closing doors, secure 
now in the belief that forever would prove to be a most wonderful 
adventure.  


The End