The two friends sat in silence, the human torn by emotions, the Betazoid empathically sensing them. It was a relief for Beverly not to have to talk, not to have to explain. Too many people were asking after him, plying her for news. They meant well, they wanted to show their concern but their questions only made things worse. They forced her to put on a brave face, to hide her torment. With Deanna it wasn't like that, with her she didn't have to pretend. Deanna sensed it all - the fear, the regret, the guilt, the love and the anger.
Right now it was anger that gripped her most. Of all the people the disease could have struck why did it have to be him? Why did it have to have to be now? She sighed heavily and then apologised for inflicting all these emotions on her friend.
"Don't apologise Beverly. You have every right to be angry. You and Jean-Luc finally become lovers – after all these years - and then he’s struck down by this debilitating illness. Of course you're angry ... and afraid ... and regretting you didn't get together earlier."
Beverly gripped her friend's hand, she understood so much.
"If only ..."
"If only what ….?"
The answer was a long time coming.
"I asked him to go with me ... it was a kind of test ... a way of showing he accepted my career came first now." She paused again. "He guessed it was a test the moment I asked him..... What was I thinking of? I didn't doubt him, so why put him on trial? Stupid, stupid". She banged her head back against the wall.
"Beverly all you did was ask him to go to Mendera with you, while you attended a medical conference. You couldn't have known he'd get ill, the odds were infinitesimal. Blaming yourself isn't rational."
"I know, I know but logic and my emotions have had little to do with one another lately. There have been times Deanna...there have been times when I've wished it was all over and he was dead. How's that for a loving partner?"
"Normal, perfectly normal. I've heard the same words many times. You can't bear to see him in pain. It's worse for you because you're a doctor and you feel you ought to be able to help him ... but you can't."
Beverly closed her eyes and tried to calm herself.
"He does understand you know", Deanna continued, "he doesn't blame you."
"I know and thank you." She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Why am I going on about me. It can't have been easy for you either seeing him like this."
Troi wished she hadn't asked. Her friend might not be pleased to learn how close she felt to Jean-Luc.
"I was surprised at how tranquil he seemed, I was expecting rage."
"He's been through that, and every other emotion. The worst period was just after we discovered the cause of his illness. That same week I was offered the captaincy of one of the new medical ships. He told me to take the post. He was quite insistent, even ordering me to go. Can you imagine the scene?"
"Yes, very clearly."
"I got so angry with him. I slapped him across the face and told him to stop playing 'the captain' in our relationship, to stop presuming he knew what was best for me. It's ridiculous isn't it. He's the one who's dying but I'm the one who can't cope. I need him to help me cope with his death." She took a deep breath. "Am I being selfish Deanna? Would it be easier for him if I left?"
"No, no, not at all. You know why he told you to go. He's a proud man and he's afraid of becoming a burden. He wants to be your lover, not your patient."
"He still is."
"Then let him - as long as he's able. And let him keep working too. Whatever he and Data are up to is good for him. … By the way what are they doing? Whenever I asked him he changed the subject?"
"I've no idea. They keep saying they'll show me 'next week', 'next week'. They're incredibly guarded about it, like a pair of children with a secret toy. I'm beginning to wonder if it's something of which I'd disapprove. Do you think you could prise it out of him?"
"Sorry, that won't be possible. I leave early tomorrow. I won't be seeing him again."
Troi didn't speak for some time, the lump in her throat wouldn't allow it.
Beverly stood at her bedroom window watching them cross the street. This surveillance had become part of her daily routine now. As soon as she got home she would contact Jean-Luc after which Data would accompany him the 50 metres from the laboratory to their apartment. Jean-Luc had insisted on this arrangement, he didn’t want to be collected by her like some pre-school child. Their neighbours might all know he was dying but these little charades allowed him the pretence of being active.
Tonight their progress across the street was particularly slow. Beverly reckoned she would have time to change her clothes before he got home. She stripped off her uniform and glanced out the window again. Jean-Luc had stopped and was gripping Data’s arm. She knew what was happening, he had been struck by one of the muscle spasms that characterised his illness. It would last only 5 or 10 seconds but it would leave him almost drained of energy. She counted ... six, seven, eight .. Jean-Luc shuddered and moved again. He'd be all right now, he'd keep going.
But not this time. She saw him halt again and say something to Data. The android responded by immediately picking him up. Beverly made a grab for some clothes and rushed into the living room looking for her tricorder. By the time she found it Picard and Data were already at the door. It slid open to reveal Jean-Luc standing there beaming at her and apparently well.
She hurried over. "What happened to you? Are you all right?" She ran the scanner over his body.
"I'm fine. Look." He flexed a bicep.
Beverly turned to Data, for a more sensible report.
"If you will excuse me Doctor there is an experiment I need to finish. May I wish you good-night?"
'Coward' she murmured after him as she helped Jean-Luc to the sofa. Once there he gave up the pretence of being all right. He slumped sideways and closed his eyes. She knew what to expect, it would be 5 minutes before he could talk again. She lifted his legs, arranged his head more comfortably and sat beside him on the floor. The doctor in her wanted to do more but the lover knew better. Five weeks before she'd put him in charge of his own medication. He had a device attached to his arm through which he could dose himself with a painkiller. She’d been surprised at how little of it he used. If it had been up to her it would have been more, but then he could tolerate pain better than she could bear to watch it. The downside of the medication was that it dulled his mental capacity for several hours. Picard detested this, it distressed him more than the pain or his physical weakness. Fortunately he didn't need to take the painkillers every day, or at least not yet.
Now, as Beverly stroked the palm of his hand, he responded by squeezing her fingers. It was his way of showing he had the strength to dose himself if he so needed. She started talking about her day. It was all part of their routine. She'd tell him about her research or about the latest bit of Starfleet gossip. When he felt able he would join the conversation as if nothing had happened. It wasn't pretence or avoidance of reality, just their determination not to let his illness dominate their lives.
Tonight, however, he had broken the rules, he'd tried to hide his true condition from her. When he had recovered enough to talk Beverly confronted him.
"Why that charade on the door step?"
He feigned bewilderment. "Oh that!" He joked. "Just ego, I didn't want you to see me being carried." He could see the hurt in her face. "I'm sorry, I won't do it again."
"Jean-Luc ... I know you don’t want me constantly checking you but if I’m to restrain my doctor’s instinct then I have to be able to trust you. I have to be sure you will tell me when things are worse."
"I will. I promise."
She leant forward and kissed him gently on the lips. Before she could draw back he pulled her to him and kissed her passionately.
She could sense he wanted to do more but knew his body wasn't able. The last time he'd tried to make love to her it had ended in failure and frustration. She'd made light of it but suspected it preyed on his mind. It had been his first failure as her lover and she feared it would be the first of many. As they embraced Beverly returned his kiss with equal passion. She wanted to be responsive but was fearful of the consequences. Would her eagerness convey needs he couldn't satisfy? She didn't want to tease. Pulling back she smiled and playfully tapped his nose pretending the kiss meant nothing.
"I picked up some fresh vegetables on the way home. Would you like Ratatouille for supper?"
He sighed. "Yes please, that would be good."
She rose to her feet and headed for the kitchen.
"When's your next day off?" He called after her.
"The day after tomorrow. Why?"
"I want to show you what Data and I have been working on."
"Really? I was beginning to assume I'd never learn."
"Why? Did you think? That I'd die before I told you?"
She winced. "Jean-Luc, please ... Don't joke about it."
"Who's joking?" He replied.
Two days later.
So far it had been one of Picard's better days. He was moving easily and with little pain as he led Beverly through the laboratory building. At the end of the corridor they stopped outside the door of a room she had never visited.
"Is Data going to join us?" She asked.
"No, he's visiting Cambridge, but that doesn't matter. He and I agreed that I should be the one to show you our efforts."
Picard entered a code in the access panel and the doors slid open. Inside was a sandy beach complete with waves breaking on the shore.
"A holodeck? What have you been doing?" She joked. "Developing holiday programmes?"
"A little more than that, wait and see. Do you recognise the location?"
She stepped inside. "I should do, It's the Brittany beach you took me to last year. Over there by the rocks is the spot where I asked you to live with me."
"I thought there was something memorable about it." He teased.
As they moved forward the doors shut behind them completing the artificial world. Ahead lay a large area of virgin sand freshly exposed by the retreating tide. A warm breeze swept their faces. It was the kind of place that made you want to run for the sheer joy of it.
"Go on," he urged her, "you know you want to."
She kicked off her shoes and had taken a few strides before she suddenly stopped and walked back to him. Somehow running across the sand wasn’t enjoyable if he couldn’t race after her.
"No, don't stop. Go on!" He pointed down the beach to where a figure was jogging towards them. As the figure grew nearer Beverly recognised him.
"What's going on Jean-Luc? Why create a holographic version of yourself?"
"He's not a hologram, or at least not a normal one. I’m controlling everything he does, in real time. There’s no computer programme in the middle. You should think if him as an extension of me."
To prove the point Picard made the copy disappear and reappear beside him without issuing any commands. When he spoke next it was from the mouth of the copy.
"The holographic system gives him a body and powers his actions but I control them by thought. However, I haven't mastered his control yet. Yesterday I managed to run for the first time but there are still actions that are beyond me."
Beverly looked from one Jean-Luc to the other. The copy looked as he had the year before. He was fitter and healthier than the real thing. It pained her to be reminded how much he had deteriorated during these last months.
"What do you think of him?" He asked.
The copy turned round so she could inspect him from every angle. Then it stepped forward, lifted her effortlessly into the air.
"He has strength too. See?"
He was beaming like a child with new toy.
The doctor in her instantly saw the potential - severely disabled patients could be made able again with the help of such a hologram.
"How is this possible? How are you controlling him?"
The copy put her down but still held her waist.
"Ah! Well, that's the problem. We're not exactly sure. After creating his body we were working on an interface to let me control him when we found I didn't need one. All I needed to do was concentrate on what I wanted him to do and he did it. Our fear is that the answer may lie with the Borg residues that remain in my body. You see part of his matrix comes from my DNA. To see if its possible to control one of these holograms without having been assimilated we need another human volunteer. Would you be willing to help us?"
"Haven't you got other humans working with you?"
"Yes but they're not available at the moment. Doc, the EMH from Voyager, is our main collaborator. Reg Barclay's involved but he's away on Vulcan for several months. Your Wesley has also been helping but, as you know, he’s now in the Gamma Quadrant. Data and I would rather keep the investigation private at the moment, at least until we have eliminated the possibility of any Borg dependency. So if you'd be willing …?"
"Of course, it sounds intriguing."
She turned away from the copy and back to the real Picard. "The hologram's truly remarkable. It could help thousands of disabled patients. The pair of you should be proud of your achievement."
"I think I'll save the celebrations until I see you control your copy."
Picard swayed a bit with the effort of standing. She took his arm to steady him.
"Beverly, will you do something for me?"
"Anything."
He hesitated. "Touch his skin."
She reached out and stroked a finger along the edge of the copy’s ear. As she did so the real Jean-Luc took an involuntary breath.
"You felt me touch him!"
"Yes, the communication is two-way. Besides learning how to control him I've also been learning how to interpret his sensory messages – seeing the world through his eyes and feeling through his skin. To start with it was like experiencing the world from inside a spacesuit. Now it's more like thin gloves and goggles. But your touch! That was the closest thing to reality yet."
She stroked his ear again. "He feels real to me too."
Acting through the copy Picard smiled, bowed politely and held out an arm. "In that case, Madame, would you care for a walk?"
"I'd be delighted Sir."
Arm in arm they made their way across the sand, the copy felt so strong Beverly could almost pretend the last year had never have happened. As they reach the sea something made her look back. The real Jean-Luc was just behind them seated in a chair. His eyes were closed and his face strained with concentration. He looked so old and ill she couldn't bear to leave him.
"Beverly!" The copy grabbed her elbow and turned her to him.
"Look at me!" he pleaded, "not at him. Forget that sickly body for a while and think of me like this. Please!"
She forced herself to ignore the real Jean-Luc. "I'll try. All right? I'll try."
For the next half hour they strolled along the water's edge behaving as they had done the year before – paddling, skimming stones, enjoying the breeze and the feel of the sun on their backs. When a wave threatened to soak her skirt the copy lifted her into the air and held her there until the water receded.
They didn't talk much, there wasn't any need. It was the shared experience they wanted not the exchange of words. As she grew accustomed to the copy she touched him more and more – she explored his strong hands, slipped her arm around his waist, she let her fingers drift across a shapely buttock. When they reached the rocks at the end of the beach the copy put his arms around her and gently pulled her to him. When she showed no resistance he ran a finger across her cheek. Her body responded to the familiar touch and her eyes closed. His mouth started to explore hers and his hands found their way under her top. There was an urgency in his movements she understood and wanted. When his lips reached her neck she opened her eyes and saw the real Picard over his shoulder.
She froze.
The copy stopped moving and backed away. It let out a sigh of disappointment and dematerialised. Beverly stood staring at Jean-Luc, not daring to speak or approach him. She had never refused him before. Was he angry? She moved cautiously towards him until she was within arms reach. Picard shifted awkwardly in his chair and avoided her eye. Simultaneously they uttered hurried words of apology, so hurried that the other didn’t catch them.
Picard cleared his throat and started to rise, the effort was obviously painful. She moved to help him but something in his body language told her to halt.
"Someone else has the holodeck booked now,” He lied. “It's time we left."
Their walk back to their apartment was very different from their journey out. Neither of them said a word. When they reached home all she could safely think of saying was "I'll get us a drink". As she headed for the kitchen Jean-Luc lowered himself onto the sofa. A familiar beep sounded from the comm panel.
"Beverly!" He called out. "There's an urgent message for you."
She handed him his drink and went over to check it out.
"They're asking me to come in … there's been a problem during an operation. I have to go. You can come with me and wait in the hospital library until I'm finished."
"I'd rather stay here."
"You can't, Data's away, remember? You'll be on your own."
"I do not need a baby sitter." He snapped. "I am not a complete invalid, not yet anyway."
His response infuriated her. How dare he be so reckless.
"Beverly, please." More conciliatory this time. "I'll be fine. If I need help I've got my emergency alarm. Go. The patient needs you."
There wasn’t time to argue with him. Reluctantly she agreed.
++
When she returned home they were still wary of each other. Unusually for him Jean-Luc had prepared supper, she took it as a demonstration of his remaining capabilities. Over the meal they talked to each other but were far too polite for comfort.
"What was the problem at the hospital?" He asked.
"Richard was in the middle of an operation to give a child an artificial eye. It's always difficult with small children, there's so little room for the surgeon to operate in. He damaged a nerve ending while removing the real one."
Picard held up a hand. "Spare me the details, we're eating."
"You did ask." She took mouthful of food. "What did you do today?"
"I had a rest for a couple of hours and then went back to the holodeck. "He looked up to see her reaction. "My condition is deteriorating Beverly. There'll come a time when the only way I can talk or act is via the hologram. Before that happens I want to master his control and to understand all the senses he can send me. I've spent so much time with him that I'd forgotten he was a hologram. I hadn't realised how alien he would seem to you. … I'm sorry for what happened today, it must have seemed repulsive… "
"… No, no. " She stopped him and clasped his hand. "Don't say that, it wasn't like that. When your hologram started kissing me I responded, I encouraged you. It was just when I saw the real you watching me, watching us … " She searched for the right words. " .. I felt as if I was being unfaithful. I just couldn't respond any more."
"But he is me, you couldn’t be unfaithful with me. And besides I wasn't watching, I can't cope with two sets of eye inputs yet. All I could see and feel was through his body."
"I realise you feel ‘as one’ with him, but to me there are two of you."
"What if I kept out of sight? Would that help?"
She could sense how much he wanted it to work, and could guess why. They might be getting on in years but they were recent lovers. Like any new couple they were still at a very physical stage of their relationship.
She wavered on the edge of consenting. The hologram was remarkably realistic, but could she bring herself to be intimate with it?.
"All right, Jean, I’ll join you on the holodeck but you'll have to give me time to get used to him."
"Of course."
"And I'll see Data about giving him that DNA sample. If he can create another Beverly then we could double date."
He studied her inscrutable face. Was she joking or was she serious?
End of Chapter 3.