As a member of the organising committee Beverly had felt obliged to give the first talk on the last day. It was often the least well attended session as delegates were still recovering from social excesses of the night before. A few of the audience did look the worse for wear. She hadn't asked Jean-Luc to be there, but he attended all the same. He wanted to protect her from Taylor,but he also wanted to hear the paper. For weeks she had talked about her research over breakfast and he was genuinely interested in the results.
As he entered the conference room many of the delegates nodded or smiled in recognition, and Tomlinson called him over for a private word.
"Any trouble with Taylor?" Picard asked.
"None at all. In fact he didn't even turn up to last night's meeting. This morning … Well see for yourself." He turned in Taylor's direction. "Over breakfast he was polite to everyone, even to his assistant who he usually treats like dirt."
"I'm glad to hear it. Nevertheless ..."
"...don't worry I'll keep an eye on her."
There were seats available next to Annouk. Picard considered taking one but her manner suggested he wasn't welcome. She seemed more withdrawn than usual and not interested in male company. He assumed she had overdone the previous nights activities and took the seat between the two Bollian sisters instead.
"Good morning," Crusher began, "This paper was a team effort." She listed three medical staff from the Enterprise."Also you won't be surprised to learn that a certain Mr Galen deserves mention." There was a ripple of laughter around the room. "As many of you have discovered, he has an uncanny knack of helping you see your problem from a different perspective." At this a sizeable part of the audience said "Here, here." Picard felt embarrassed but also proud, he'd come a long way since that disastrous first evening.
By the end of Beverly's paper he was even prouder of her. The reaction to her talk and the number of follow-up questions was considerable. It was obvious that her innovative ideas had already inspired several of the delegates. Listening to her answering questions, Picard found himself wondering if she was wasted on the Enterprise. Shouldn't she be in a research post or teaching rather than wandering the galaxy responding to emergencies? The idea grabbed his imagination. Perhaps there was a chance they might leave the Enterprise together?
After her session, Picard slipped away. He didn't want his presence to detract from the attention she deserved.
++
"Neglecting your boat for a woman. I'm ashamed of you, John."
Picard started to explain about Beverly's talk, then realised Caroud was joking.
"If Beverly Crusher was my woman I think I'd be neglecting quite a lot of things."
"She's not …" Jean-Luc began.
"… But you'd like her to be?"
Picard gave a sheepish grin that confirmed the old man's suspicions. Luckily Mardio approached and saved him from having to say anything more.
"The wind's freshening up. Can we launch her?" The boy pleaded.
"Go on John." Caroud ordered, "show him how it's done."
++
The conference had ended and the delegates were leaving for the shuttle-port
"John, I'm glad I caught you, do you mind if I contact you next month. I have some ideas I'd like your thoughts on?" This was the third delegate to make such a request. Picard agreed politely but it wasn't what he had come for. He was there to meet Beverly and take her away for what he hoped would be an 'intimate' evening. He moved further away from the hotel steps to where he hoped they would be less likely to approach him. The Bollian sisters waved at him as they boarded the shuttle-port bus. Annouk came out looking as subdued as she'd been that morning. Jean-Luc considered approaching her to ask if anything was wrong but changed his mind. It might complicate things with Beverly and he didn't want to risk that. Taylor emerged soon after and paused when he noticed Picard. Even from 20 metres away Jean-Luc could sense the malice in his stare. The stare turned into a smirk as Taylor turned and entered the bus. Picard's stomach tightened, Where was Beverly? He started to run towards the hotel but to his relief she appeared at the door. The expression on her face told him something had annoyed her.
"Don't tell me," he quipped, "they volunteered you to organise the next conference."
She livened up at his joke. "No, it's something more mundane. The hotel has messed up my reservation. They assumed I was leaving today like the other delegates. They haven't got a room for me tonight; neither have any of the other hotels.
"That’s easily solved. You can sleep on the sofa in my apartment; it’s very comfortable."
Beverly looked at him but said nothing.
"I assure you Doctor, I’ll behave myself."
She smiled and held his eye, "It’s not your behaviour I’m worried about, it’s mine."
Jean-Luc felt his heart rate leap. Was she flirting or did she mean it? He gambled on the latter. "As far as I’m concerned, anything you want to do is all right by me ... anything at all." He willed her to understand his meaning and not take it as a joke. The wait for her reply seemed interminable.
"If that's the case, Captain, … then neither of us will be sleeping on the sofa."
Picard's face broke into a relieved and excited smile. His leaned in closer. "You’re sure?" he whispered.
"Quite." She put out a hand to stroke him but stopped short. Somehow she sensed an agreement not to touch one another until they reached the apartment. The muscles in her groin tightened in anticipation.
"Wait here." She said excitedly. "I’ll get my things."
As they walked to the apartment Picard was finding it hard not to touch her. The self-imposed restraint was frustrating yet pleasurable at the same time. Anticipation fuelled his desire. Beverly felt the same way. Her hand felt drawn towards his as if by magnetism. When they paused at the roadside she moved closer leaving them only millimetres apart. Her breathing quickened. She stole a quick glance in his direction and caught Jean-Luc doing the same. Both looked away hurriedly least they should break the spell. Once across the road their pace increased.
At the apartment block Picard held the door open for her but carefully avoided her eye. The lift was on the seventh floor so they were forced to wait. As they stood side by side facing the elevator doors Beverly doubted she'd be able to control herself once they entered the lift.
"Are we going to see you tonight?"
Both jumped at the unexpected voice. Babet, the woman who had told Picard about the dance club, had entered from a side door.
"I'm sorry, I didn't understand the question." Picard managed to sound polite despite his intense irritation.
"At the dance club! There's a competition tonight, remember. I'm sure you could win if you put your minds to it."
"You haven't seen us dance." He replied, logical as ever.
"Ah, but Bock told me how good you were." When Picard looked surprised, Babet continued. "I see him every day. I'm his chiropodist. The poor boy suffers dreadfully with his feet."
Beverly hastily thrust a fist into her mouth in a effort to stifle the laughter.
"We'll think about it." Picard replied, hoping to end the conversation, and turned to face the lift doors.
A minute passed and still the lift did not come. Babet began to prattle on about how unreliable the lifts were and how the heating system gave up during the worst winters. When the lift finally arrived she got in with them and kept talking all the way to the tenth floor. Silence was restored only when the elevator carried her away.
Picard's temper snapped. "Does she never stop!"
Inside the apartment he dumped Beverly's bags on the sofa and turned to face her. Babet's torrent of domestic trivia had acted like a bucket of cold water on fire. The mental inclination was still there but his physical ability had gone. He took Beverly's hands in his and let out a frustrated sigh.
"It's all right." She whispered.
"Sure?"
"Completely." She squeezed his fingers and gave him a reassuring smile. Despite her own frustration she knew how disastrous it would be to press him to perform.
"I suggest .." she began slowly, "…that we get changed and go to the fish restaurant for an early supper. After which … " she twirled herself round, "… we should visit Bock's and dazzle everyone with our dancing skills."
Picard's expression cheered considerably. "You're on."
++
She had invited him to bed hadn't she? Surely that was what she'd meant? As they strolled along the seafront, Picard was too nervous to speak. Despite his normal eloquence and diplomatic skills, tonight he feared any words he spoke might destroy his dreams. Touch was the only means of communication he trusted.
"Jean-Luc, I'm not going anywhere."
"I'm sorry, am I holding your hand too tightly?"
"Just a little."
He loosened his grip and smiled apologetically. "Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?"
"Yes you did, but you can say it again. You look pretty good yourself." He sucked his stomach in, in an effort to look even better. At the restaurant door they were greeted by the waiter who had served them on the first night. "It's good to see you again. Would you like the same table?" When he had taken their order Beverly reached out and stroked Jean-Luc's hand. She had to get him to relax.
"I saw you at my talk this morning, what have you been doing since then?"
"Giving Mardio lessons in the Beverly. I think he's going to make a fine sailor."
"And how about the Beverly? What sort of boat is she going to be?"
Picard shifted in his seat as he caught her eye. "She's lively, but responsive if you handle her properly."
"I see." Beverly sipped her drink and smiled at him across the top of her glass. "And do you know how to handle her?"
His heart began to race. "Let's just say, that it's a skill I'm more than willing to learn."
"Something tells me you won't need much instruction."
He beamed back and at last relaxed. An easy silence fell over them.
"How's your 'John Galen' experiment been going?" She asked.
"Well. You know Beverly, I've been a Starfleet captain for so long that I could hardly imagine myself being anything else. I've been a little afraid of the thought of having to give it up. This week has taught me that I can function in another capacity and enjoy it too."
"I thought your life on Kataan had taught you that?"
"Kataan wasn't a real life; it seemed real at the time, but then so do vivid dreams. My life in Starfleet is reality. Knowing you for 25 years is reality." Beverly seemed more than pleased at his words. Had she resented my imaginary wife?
"Here's to reality." She raised her glass and clinked it against his.
Over supper they amused themselves by trying to guess the nature of the relationships between the other couples in the restaurant. Picard wasn't very good at this game, he failed to spot what Beverly considered were obvious clues. Eventually they got around to discussing what people would assume about them.
"We're definitely not married." Beverly stated categorically.
"What gives that away?"
"We've too much to say to each other. That old cliché about married couples sitting in silence is true."
He laughed, "If we're not married, then what are we?"
She thought for a few seconds then announced, "We're colleagues conducting an illicit affair."
Picard raised an eyebrow, "And how did you reach that conclusion, Mr Holmes?"
"Well Doctor Watson, first there’s their behaviour - the eye contact, smiles, hand touching - all this indicates a physical attraction between the two parties. Next there's the effort to hide this attraction from the waiter and the use of a false name."
Jean-Luc was intriged, "Go on."
"The 'colleagues' part is more of a guess but have you noticed how frequently these two tease one another. In my observation such behaviour only occurs between couples who know each other very well ... and the most likely place for that familiarity to have arisen is at work. I rest my case."
He gave her a round of applause. "I'm impressed. Do you play this game often?"
"Just occasionally in Ten Forward with Deanna. I try and guess how the various relationships are developing amongst our crewmates. Deanna is very discreet. She only confirms my suspicions if I can give her firm evidence."
Picard moved his hand towards her and very gently stroked a finger along the inside of her bare arm.
"What do you think the crew would think if they saw me doing that in Ten Forward?"
"They might be surprised at their austere captain making such an open display of affection but not shocked. I'm sure half of them think we're lovers."
Picard was shocked at this statement.
"Didn't you realise?" She asked.
"No! I didn’t... Do you mind?"
"Not at all" She looked him straight in the eye. "I just wish it were true."
Picard sat motionless, savouring her reply, then leaning across he pulled her head towards him and gave her a long and tender kiss upon the mouth.
The waiter turned in his tracks and decided to come back later.
++
The dance club was already busy by the time they arrived. People had to push past them as they stood looking for a spare table.
"I wasn't expecting quite such a crowd. Would you rather we gave it a miss?" She asked.
Picard looked at her, trying to guess what she wanted him to reply.
"It maybe crowded but it's also exciting. I think tonight will be a memory I'll treasure for years to come."
Beverly beamed and gave him a quick kiss. "Good, I was hoping you would see it that way." Someone bumped her from behind and she fell against him. He caught her and held her against him for a moment before letting her go.
"Do you want a table?" A young Ferengi who looked like one of Bock's relatives had appeared at their side.
"Yes, please. If there is one."
They followed him through the crowd to where a giant of a man was guarding an empty table.
"For you, compliments of Bock. Anything else I can get you?"
"We were hoping to enter the dance contest."
"That can be arranged. What names would you like to use?"
"Beverly Howard and John Galen." He replied without hesitation.
When they were alone again Beverly gave him a quizzical look. "Why the false names?"
"It seemed more appropriate."
"Why? Don't you think Starfleet Officers should be seen in a place like this?"
He squirmed a little. "Let's just say John Galen can do things that might cause comment if done by Captain Picard."
"And what about Beverly Howard? Do you think she'll be similarly 'uninhibited'?"
"A man can hope."
Beverly let out a snort of laughter and stroked his thigh under the table. "We'll see."
Bock's relative returned with two drinks and their entry number - twenty. "The competition starts in 30 minutes", he informed them. "Anything else I can do for you?"
"How many couples are competing?" Picard asked.
"Twenty."
"Twenty?" Picard looked round the crowed room. "I can't believe only 19 applied before us."
"Bock had reserved a place for you. He likes the way you dance."
"Really? Thank you, that will be all." Picard waited till he was out of earshot. "Generosity from a Ferengi makes me uneasy? Where's the profit in it?"
Beverly sighed. Can't he stop being a Starfleet Captain for just one night!
"Bock's a showman," she responded, "and good dancers are good for business."
"You maybe right."
"I am! And we're good, remember that."
At that moment the lights dimmed and Bock appeared the dance floor; his gold suit sparkled in the spotlight.
"What did I tell you?" Beverly whispered. "Every inch a showman."
"Welcome! Tonight's competition will consist of three elimination rounds. Six couples will be eliminated at each round. The remaining two couples will each perform one solo dance to music of their own choice. The dance styles the first three rounds will be ...."
"Do I know those?" Picard asked. Beverly reassured him they were styles he knew under other names.
"The judges tonight..", Bock continued," .. will be myself and two mystery talent spotters.
At this last point an excited murmur rippled round the club. The prospect of 'being spotted' was obviously the main attraction in this contest.
"Fancy a career change," Beverly joked, "Perhaps we could become the after-dinner floor show at a resort hotel."
"Sounds appealing," he laughed, "so long as I don’t have to dance with the guests. You see.." he was suddenly more serious, ".. I've decided you're the only woman I'm going to dance with for the rest of my life."
Beverly was struck by the intensity of this declaration. "In that case," she replied, "I won't be dancing with anyone else, either."
Picard put his hand over hers and held it firmly until a sudden blast of music interrupted their private moment. "Come on." She said, finishing off her drink. "Let's get warmed up."
++
As the time for the competition approached, dancers drifted away until only the 20 contesting couples were left. They pretended not to notice each other though in reality the mutual scrutiny was intense. One thing was obvious to everyone, Picard and Crusher were by far the oldest entrants. This revelation unsettled them both, though neither cared to admit it.
"Remember what Bock said," Picard announced, "We have 'grace and style'. And beauty, I might add."
Beverly continued his positive pep talk. "Even if the others are more athletic, this isn’t gymnastics, it’s dance and dancing as a couple. Something we're good at." Buoyed by each other's words, their confidence rose. Picard put an arm around her waist and moved out across the dance floor as if it were his to command.
++
Two rounds later they were still in the contest; whatever the judges were looking for they appeared to have it. They still looked cool and relaxed compared to the heavy breathing of some of their more energetic opponents. When the third tune began Picard groaned, this was the dance he had found most difficult on their first visit.
"Come on," she encouraged him, "You mastered this when we were on the beach. Just imagine we're back there."
Picard did as she commanded. With the bright lights on the dance floor the audience was invisible, it wasn't hard to pretend they were dancing merely for their own enjoyment. They would never find out why they survived to the final round but anyone watching could have told them – that enjoyment they exhibited was the deciding factor. The others might have been more technically proficient but they were the couple people wanted to be. When the music stopped they stood leaning against each other recovering their breath.
"We're still in! Now what do we do?"
Bock's assistant came over to inform them they would be performing last. "What music do you want?"
"Something slow?" he whispered.
"Agreed," She whispered back, "but it needs fire." Addressing the Ferengi she said, "There's an old Earth song called 'Chain Lightening' can you provide that?"
As they waited for the round to begin they hummed the tune to themselves and worked out various moves. Across the floor the other finalists watched them with obvious amusement. Picard couldn't place their species but from their haughty manner he guessed they were part Cardasian.
"Stand aside please." Bock ordered as their opponents took the floor. Picard moved to the edge of the lit area and stood directly behind Beverly with his hands resting on her hips. Neither of them paid much attention to the other couple's performance they were far more interested in their own bodies and their physical closeness.
The end of their competitor's dance was greeted by loud and lengthy applause. As they left the floor the man turned looked at Picard as if they were engaged in mortal combat. "Follow my lead." Jean-Luc instructed Beverly before stepping forward to the centre of the floor. Once there they both bowed respectfully to their opponents. The Cardasians stared back, evidently thrown by this display of courteous behaviour. The audience went silent waiting to see their response. Reluctantly the man gave Picard a nod. A
"One up to us." Picard whispered.
Ten seconds later their own music began. If someone had told Picard that come that evening he would perform a stunningly sensuous dance in public, he would have dismissed it as nonsense. In the event doing just that didn't bother him at all. By the time their music started he had learnt to block out all thought of audiences and judges. The dance was the thing and the pleasure moving in harmony with Beverly's body. The grace of their movements, the sinuous inter-twining of limbs, the torsos kept tantalising apart until the final moments - all this combined to produce a performance that every watcher wished they'd been a part of. When they stopped there was total silence for three seconds then rapturous applause.
++
Outside the club Picard examined the hideous certificate they'd been given. 'John Galen and Beverly Howard worthy winners of Bock's dance competition ….'
Beverly nudge him in the ribs. "I dare you to put it up in your ready room."
"You're on! But wouldn't you rather it hung in my quarters?"
"Better still," she replied, "in mine. You're clearly in need of further dance instruction. You should start visiting me frequently ... for lessons."
Picard swallowed and struggled with his self control. Despite what he had been doing on the dance floor the street was too public for what he wanted to do now. "Let's get going." He urged her.
They walked quickly with arms around each other and hips touching, as though the dancing had never stopped. At the first secluded spot they paused to practise the kissing they'd so enjoyed in the restaurant. When they finally broke apart, Jean-Luc thanked her.
"What for?"
"Everything. Being here, being in my life."
"It's mutual", She stroked his cheek with the back of her hand. "Are you feeling tired?"
A wicked smile crossed his face. "Not at all."
The remainder of the journey home was completed with more haste, nothing must delay consummation of the passion they'd restrained so long. In the passage-way near the apartment the lights were out, forcing them to slow slightly as they descended some steps. There was no one around to hear their cries or witness the brutal and efficient attack that left them unconscious in seconds.
End of Book 1, Part 3 of 3. To be continued .....