From: v130qh57@ubvmsb.cc.buffalo.edu (sandra guzdek)
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
Subject: The Outing
Date: 14 Apr 92 22:55:00 GMT
Organization: University at Buffalo
News-Software: VAX/VMS VNEWS 1.41

this is a short story that kind of explores beverly and picard's 
relationship as friends that i recently typed in, and thought i would let the 
world, or all of you anyway, have a look-see. i'd like to include why 
beverly left for that season (to be replaced by the evil dr. pulaski), but 
i don't know what beverly's reason was (help?). 
(when you read this you'll know what i mean.)

any comments or suggestions or corrections of fact should be directed to 
ME, thank you. [by the way, i would appreciate it...] even reasons why you 
don't like it, i don't care. i love getting e-mail.  :)

so here it goes....uppercase letters and all......

sandra g.

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The Outing
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	Captain Jean-Luc Picard sat tiredly at the desk in his ready-room, 
head bowed. He was a tired captain; he'd been awake for over twenty hours 
as a result of a tenuous situation that had brewed in orbit over Starbase 
103 located on the edge of the Romulan Neutral Zone. Luckily, the wrinkles 
were smoothed out and the Enterprise had come away unscathed by the 
proverbial skin of its teeth yet again. He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and 
forefinger, cursing at the terrific migraine that had settled behind his 
eyes. _Ah, what a little diplomatic skill can prevent_, he thought, and as 
his head pulsed in pain,_--and cause..._
	He'd called Dr. Crusher moments ago to come to the bridge to get 
rid of this albatross; it felt like an eternity. In the meantime, his only 
consolation was some soft Mozart piped in via the computer and a steaming 
cup of relaxing chamomile tea.
	Picard had given bridge control to Lt-Cmndr. Data, whose inability 
to become fatigued relieved both himself and his second-in-command, William 
Riker. Will had beat a hasty retreat to the steaming sauna, followed 
presumably by some well-deserved sleep. _But_, the captain mused, _one can 
never be too sure with Will..._   Picard, while exhausted, was at the same 
time wound up by the events that had just taken place. Impossibly, 
they would not leave his mind. Subconsciously massaging his temples, his 
weary eyes began to droop.
	The door chime brought him back to attention. He jumped to his 
feet, tugged down his jersey and silenced the music. "Come in."
	The door noiselessly slid aside to reveal the ship's doctor, Beverly 
Crusher, a copper-haired sight for sore eyes. She stepped in with a smile. 
She, too, had the look of long hours etched into her face: she had beamed 
down to the planet-bound starbase personally with a medical team to attend 
to some injuries caused by a minor tremor. In any other instance 
it would have been nothing, but in the confusion and with the appearance of 
the Romulans, everything was rushed to double time. "I apologise for my 
delay, captain, but there was an emergency in sickbay...Ensign O'Rourke 
went into labor prematurely. We were able to stop the contractions.
Thankfully the baby's all right." He took a seat, and she wasted no time 
pulling out the medical scanner, encircling his head with it. 
"Increased muscle tension and restricted blood flow. Had it for very long?" 
she queried as she folded shut the medical instrument.
	"Give Ensign O'Rourke my regards," he replied, although children 
had never been one of his most likeable subjects. "I've had the headache 
since parting with the Romulan Warbird."
	She acknowledged with a "hmm", and pulled out an injector. "This 
will clear it up." Instantly the pain subsided and he was on his feet 
again.
	"Once again, a miracle. The pain is indeed gone," he commented, as 
the muscles released their hold. She smiled -- it was his roundabout way of 
thanking her. "Why don't you go and get some sleep, doctor? You've been going 
longer than I have. You'll burn out." He sipped the herbal tea. "Captain's 
orders."
	"You could use a little of the same," replied the chief medical 
officer, packing up her medical bag. "_Doctor's_ orders."
	"Touche'," he called to her as she headed for the door."Good night, 
Beverly."
	Dr. Crusher turned at the door.  "Good night, Jean-Luc."
	The door swished shut behind her. The sound of silence---how 
euphoric to hear absolutely nothing. He walked over to the window, tea in 
hand, and looked out to the receding starfield. A thousand times he could 
do this and never would he not be fascinated. It brought him back to his 
time on earth, the glorious feel of soft grass underfoot, the fragrance of 
sweet night air...
	It was then the idea was conceived. He sat and gave detailed 
programming to the ship's computer, made a log entry, and left explicit 
instructions with Data for the lot of them not to be disturbed, 
excepting cases of dire emergency, for the next twelve or so hours.
	He was going to relax, and being in transit, he was going to do it 
right.



	Beverly Crusher was all set to draw a fantastic bubble bath when 
the alert sounded on her communicator. She sighed, and acknowledged. It was 
the captain, requesting her prescence in holodeck 3. She was hesitant, but 
agreed. When he then told her to leave her communicator behind, she was 
certain she should have refused. He added, much to her dismay, "Dress 
warmly."



	Lying back on a couch after a half hour of heaven in the sauna and 
the steam room, Commander William Riker closed his eyes and waited for 
Counselor Troi. They had made plans for a drink after this strenuous day. 
He really just wanted to get some shut-eye, but figured the counselor's 
company would be comforting and would de-frazzle his jumpy nerves. 
	The door chime sounded, and it was Counselor Troi. "What kept you?" 
he asked; when he looked at her, he was even more curious.
	She was dressed in denim pants, a flannel shirt, a wool-lined 
jacket and a pair of hiking boots. Her curly black hair was drawn into a 
plait, and her communicator was oddly missing.
	"The captain hasn't contacted you yet?" she asked, as he realized 
he had left his own communicator on his desk top. She smiled as she felt a 
wave of embarrassment from him. "We're to meet him in holodeck 3. How about 
I meet you down there?"
	"What is this all about? What has he got in mind?" Riker returned, 
pacing the floor of his quarters. "I'm so tired -- I hope it's not some 
battle simulation of what we just went through."
	Deanna shook her head. "Not dressed like this. Besides, I don't 
sense any tension or desire for rigour from him; the opposite, I sense a 
great anticipation from him, almost excitement, yet he's completely at 
peace."
	"He didn't say?" persisted Will.
	"No, Will, he didn't. Just 'dress warmly', as he said. We'll have 
our drinks some other time." She exited with a final goodbye and a smile.
	Riker sighed. "I don't need this," he muttered as he got himself 
together for whatever Captain Picard had cooked up.



	At the door of holodeck 3, Beverly Crusher, dressed in the 
replicator's best facsimile of a down jacket, stood unsurely. She wondered 
was the captain inside already, and paced before the door a couple of times 
before deciding to enter.
	The doors parted and all she could see was slivers of moonlight 
peeking through massive, ancient tree trunks. She squinted, her 
eyes not completely adjusted, and saw the flickering of a fire in the 
distance. An almost eerie luminescence blanketed the ground and, as she 
stepped out onto the edge of a clearing, the clouds above in outline. At 
her feet was lush grass; above shone the moon of planet Earth accompanied 
by the the celestial stars that had at one time marked the limit of 
mankind. From a distance she heard Picard's voice beckoning her. She could 
see him, waving his arm, by the campfire.
	She neared the camp he'd "set up"; the captain sat on a log. He was 
dressed in denim and flannel as well, and had a book opened on his lap, 
which he closed upon her arrival. A lantern glowed nearby his side. He 
gestured to a log beside him, and she sat.
	Beverly laughed gingerly. "Jean-Luc, where is this place?" A cool,
fresh breeze rolled past her cheek and rustled her hair. "Wherever it is, it 
feels like heaven."
	"I took the best parts from all of my favourite places on planet 
Earth. I was feeling kind of homesick. I also had a great desire to sleep 
under the stars tonite, while the stars weren't moving at warp speed." 
Tongues of light from the glowing fire illuminated the senior officer 
strangely.
	"And you asked me to join you?" Beverly marvelled. "This is a 
wonderful place....I'm flattered."
	The captain set the book beside him. "I've asked Will, Geordi, and 
Deanna as well. You're the first to arrive."
	She smiled, glad that Deanna wasn't around yet to read her feeling of 
foolishness. "Oh, of course. Like a camp-out," she said finally.
	However, it was evident that Picard could read her equally well. 
"If it's any consolation," he said, "it was your visit that prompted this 
whole idea. For a night, let's just forget where we *really* are, and *who* 
we are."
	Suddenly they could see Deanna nearing the fire; aside, Deanna 
wondered exactly why her appearance had halted such an uneasiness here. 
"Captain, this is beautiful. I think this is just what we all need." She 
took a seat beside Beverly, and turned her dark eyes to the sky. The light 
of the moon was casting fantastic shadows within the clouds. "It is so....
serene here."
	"After what we've all just been through, I think anything 
resembling shore leave is well deserved," said the approaching Commander
Riker, who took a log beside Deanna's. Deanna smiled in agreement.
	"I've got coffee on, if anyone's interested," said the captain, 
indicating a percolating metal pot that hung over the fire.
	"Mmmm, fresh brewed coffee, a real rarity," quipped Beverly.
	Riker looked confused. "Where's Geordi?"
	Picard replied. "Declined. Said he still had work to do in 
Engineering. I tried to convince him it could wait, that someone else could 
do it, short of *commanding* him to join us, but he felt obligated to 
get that warp core returned to tip-top shape as soon as possible. I have 
to admit, I admire him for that." The coffee was ready, and he took the pot 
from the fire. "He said also that with his VISOR, he probably wouldn't be 
able to fully appreciate it anyhow." 
	Deanna sighed. "Surely he could sense the peace here...to sleep 
here would be the sleep of angels." Picard shrugged an I-don't-know, and 
passed around the coffee, which was gratefully accepted.
	Everyone concurred on the extremely fantasic taste of the 
coffee, but after that the voices died away, and there was silence. If they 
didn't know each other so well, it would have been awkward.
	It was Riker's unabashed yawn that set everone in motion away from 
the fire. There were five sleeping units -- a sleeping bag, pillows, and a 
thick blanket -- which fanned around the campfire like spokes on a wheel. 
Riker and Picard took the ends; Beverly took the one closest to the captain 
and the counselor, closest to the commander. Picard told the computer to 
remove the fifth one, leaving a gape in the center.
	Beverly unzipped her bag to crawl in. It was extraordinarily warm. 
In his own bag, the captain stopped to fluff the pillows before lying back. 
Deanna and Will also took to their respective bags. Good-nights were said, 
and all was calm save the wind swaying the grass.




	With the trees in motion around her and the cool wind on her skin, 
Beverly lie on her back, her eyes open to the stars above, the same stars 
she'd seen all too many times. Now, here in this place, they were somehow 
different, somehow given a new context. Around her, the fire crackled and 
sent up a tail of smoke. The smell of the burning wood was refreshing. The 
grass seemed to whisper as the wind played with it. Vaguely she could hear 
murmurs between Will and Deanna. Her own thoughts rolled within her head 
without abandon as they had wanted to do for so long. 
	It seemed hours were spent in this silent contemplation when she 
heard the voice of the captain ask quietly from two meters away, "Beverly, 
are you still awake?" The night was so still this question startled her. 
Deanna and Will had been long asleep.
	Beverly turned her head to the side to see that the captain was on 
his back as well, staring up into infinity, his aquiline features in 
profile from the moonlight. "Yes, I'm still awake."
	Another burst of air raced over the clearing. He closed his eyes to 
absorb it; she shivered as goose-bumps rose, and pulled the blanket 
tighter around her neck.
	"Is it too cold in here?" he queried. "I can change---"
	Beverly interrupted him with, "No, it feels great. It's the best    
cure for homesickness."
	"That it is," he stated.
	She continued in a nostalgic tone, "Good place....to sort out some 
thoughts." The doctor turned her head to the sky once again. As she did, 
Picard looked towards her. Her auburn hair was splayed on the pillow around her
and highlighted oddly by the moonlight.
	"A penny for *yours*, doctor."
	After a moment she turned her head; this time their eyes made 
contact. He had the suggestion of a smile on his lips.
	"I was just sort of...putting my life into perspective, reminiscing 
about Jack, missing Wesley, thinking about my time on the Enterprise with 
all of you. Those sort of things." She turned to lay on her side. "What 
about yours?"
	He half shrugged. "I was pretty much doing the same. Evaluating my 
life, my career. Remembering some of our missions, some of my rights and
wrongs. What I would change if I could." He also was on his side. 
	Her mouth curled in a grin. "That sounds intriguing. Care to share 
any of those remembrances?"
	He grinned as well. "Do you remember," he began, "when we were 
overcome by that virulent intoxicant? If it hadn't been quite so life-
threatening, it would have been...funny."
	"_Funny?_" she wondered. "Terrifying is more like it. It was 
perfectly awful to have this ship completely paralyzed, and there was 
nothing I could do."
	"But you came through in the end, which I had faith you'd do. I was 
just thinking, though, how laughable my behaviour must have been. And you... 
you certainly had your moments as well."
	She remembered suddenly his babbling and cracked a smile. _One of 
the times you've actually lost a hold of your control,_ she thought 
to herself with a twist of humour. "Yes, I suppose when you think 
about it in that light....you were quite out of character. Nothing, 
however, beats the report I heard, of you singing bar songs with the crew 
in Ten-Forward."
	His brow knitted. "I did no such thing, Beverly. When the ship was 
affected with that virus, I was on the bridge the whole time."
	"It wasn't then, it was at a later stardate. You were full of 
surprises for some strange reason. The bar songs was just one example."
Picard seemed confused at her words, then he appeared as if the light had 
dawned.
	"*I* know what you're thinking of. No one's ever explained to you 
what happened during that time, have they?"
	"I guess not. Will you please?"
	"I was taken against my will for a....study by an alien race, and 
replaced by an exact duplicate here on the Enterprise." She seemed to turn 
this notion over in her head. "Or, as the case may be, not-so-exact."
	Picard thought about the report Will had given him regarding his 
double's actions, and wondered if there was something that had been left 
out. "Why do you ask? Did I....did *he*...do something to you, that you 
didn't report on?"
	"Well, I *did* think you were acting strangely....it isn't 
important, though." She seemed like she was holding something back.
	"Important enough to ask about. Please, tell me."
	"I'd really rather not, sir, if you don't mind."
	Picard let out an impatient breath. "None of that 'sir' formality, 
Beverly," he said lightheartedly, "or I'll have to order you to file an 
official report on it. Now, if it involves who you thought at the time was 
me, I think I have a right to know what was done."
	She sighed, giving in. "You invited me to your quarters for an, um, 
intimate dinner." Hoping that would satisfy his curiosity, she stopped. She 
felt like she was telling him about another man, and it made her feel 
somewhat uncomfortable. Again, it seemed to him that she was not divulging 
everything and he wanted to know more: 
	"And...?"
	"We ate an extraordinary dinner, had some wine, talked....that's 
all, really."
	He noticed her unwillingness and decided to egg her on anyway, 
against his better judgement. "Come on Beverly, we're friends. 
What did 'we' talk about?"
	"Frankly?" she began, sounding a little wounded, "You came right 
out and told me that you regretted your decision concerning our 
relationship *as* friends, and suggested that you were interested in more.
I told you that I thought the distance we kept ourselves at was right, 
not only right, but correct. I also told you that that was what I was 
comfortable with." She stopped to think. "You questioned if my reason was 
because you were, and are, my commanding officer." After she spoke, the 
silence seemed intrusive.
	Picard turned back to the sky. "Now I see why this bothered you."
He continued, after a pause, "Indeed, very interesting. Anything else I 
should be aware of?"
	Keeping it from him was useless. He obviously knew when or if she 
was lying or not telling him something. What was the point after all? 
"We danced," she continued, ready to brave any reaction from him, "and 
you kissed me."
	Any reaction, that was, except amusement. 
	Picard was incredulous. "*Danced?* *Kissed* you?" He pushed himself 
up on his elbow to look over at her. He had a Cheshire grin from ear to 
ear. _A grin I'd love to slap right off that face_, she thought hotly.
	"And then you showed me the door," she concluded, thoroughly 
agitated, adding a deliberate, "*sir.*"
	Her annoyance at him caused him to burst into outright laughter. 
"Oh, *Beverly*. Enough of the 'sir' already. We're not on the bridge. Right 
now I'm not even the captain. We're just having a friendly conversation."
	"If *this* is friendly....In any case, I don't appreciate being 
laughed at," she retorted, also propped up on one elbow now.
	"I'm not laughing *at* you, dear Beverly. It's amusing how this is 
making you." He chuckled again, and then became serious. "You're forgetting 
that it was not me, and that for me it didn't really happen--"
	Threatening to rise above the low whisper they had been talking in, 
she broke in with, "It did happen for me, captain, and I won't soon forget it. 
Let me pose *this* to you: this alien impostor didn't single me out in 
particular without a reason. There must have been some thread of a thought 
for this being to pick up. Therefore, if there's something on your mind about 
me, about our relationship, tell me, instead of just...laughing!" She had a 
good mind to get up and leave; too tired to move, she instead turned and faced 
away from him.
	"Good night," she said curtly.
	Beverly closed her eyes, hating the fact that she had just lost her 
temper with her captain; more importantly, with her good friend. At the 
very least, she'd gotten the thought off of her chest. From early on in service 
together she'd sensed some attraction between herself and her superior 
officer-- the viral intoxicant had brought that to light. Picard tended to be 
repressive with his emotions, however, so she could never really be sure. That 
he outranked her was in fact intimidating as well. _It's probably for the best
that we stay where we are. At least it's less confusing that way_, she thought 
at last with a resigned sigh.



	Some time later, as Beverly drifted in and out of sleep, she heard a 
voice close to her: "Sometimes....I am satisfied with my 
decision to keep our relationship professional. Sometimes....well, 
sometimes I *do* regret it." She lifted her head and turned groggily to see 
the captain, sitting crosslegged on the grass between their sleeping units, 
his elbows on his knees, his face upturned towards the stars. "For 
instance, Vash...." No more was needed to be said about that; Beverly knew 
that he had shared intimate time with this pretty, young, spirited 
archaeologist on a vacation to Reisa. "Had I *not* stuck consistantly to 
that decision I don't think we'd speak to each other. You've been 
there for me, both as doctor and more importantly as a friend, more times 
than I can remember." At that moment he turned to look down at her. "It would 
be...devastating to lose your friendship."
	Beverly smiled tiredly, her fingers curling over the edge of the 
blanket near her chin. "We're in agreement there. Sometimes it just 
frustrates me not knowing what you're thinking. Even though you take on the role
of Jean-Luc the captain too often for *my* liking, I like to think you can 
talk to me about anything as Jean-Luc the man. I hope you know that." 
The air struck up again, sweeping across the grass softly.  "And I know 
that I can turn to you, like when Jack died..." She suddenly felt a 
terrible sadness wash over her, and closed her eyes. From his 
elevated position he smoothed the hair near her brow. "...and like now."
	He smiled tenderly, although the doctor was fast falling asleep and 
could not appreciate it. "Sleep well, Beverly."



	Deanna came out of sleep with a strange sensation that was almost  
frightening. It was coming from the captain, and it was such a feeling of 
turbulence like none she had known from him. She pushed herself up out of 
her bag to see him near Beverly. She concentrated very hard to get 
a feeling of what he was so troubled about -- it was about 
Beverly, undoubtedly. He was likely torn between his emotions and his duty, 
as he had often revealed to her as counselor. Deanna lay back down on her 
pillow and closed her mind to it, for it was undoubtedly a private storm.
	When Deanna woke next, feeling refreshed and untroubled, she saw 
Will by the fire, and decided to join him. Almost inaudibly she asked him,
"Did you sleep well?"
	"Like a baby. Haven't slept so well for as long as I can remember.
Just wanted to cherish this time before duty, peace and quiet." He gestured 
for her to sit beside him, which she cheerfully did. He pointed to the captain 
and the doctor, and asked, "So what do you think went on over there?" The 
captain was asleep next to Beverly, his head nestled close to her own.
	What she sensed now was a reversal of her earlier empathic efforts: 
both of them were very untroubled. "I wonder that myself. During the night 
I awoke feeling a great sense of pain from the captain. Now his mind is 
free of that pain. I can only imagine they have discussed what the problem was."
	Riker grinned. "Maybe they didn't *discuss* a thing."
	Deanna looked at him scornfully. "That's not like our captain." 
	"This is not like any other night," Riker reminded her.



	Twelve hours after arriving in the holodeck, and a full night's 
sleep later, Beverly Crusher woke to see the same stars over her head and 
to hear the voice of Deanna nearby, quiet and happy. She and Will had been 
talking, most recently about their captain and their doctor unbeknownst 
to either of them. Deanna and Will were sitting by the fire -- Deanna's 
long hair, down from its braid, haloed orange around her face. Will was 
smiling, basking in the warmth of the fire and of present company.
	Beverly was comfortable and well-rested. She was scheduled for duty 
in about an hour, as were the rest of them, but as for right now she had no 
desire whatsoever to move for she knew not when she would feel so relaxed 
again. _Jean-Luc was right, I did need this._
	It was then she realized that Jean-Luc had fallen asleep very close 
to her, under a corner of her blanket, half on the grass. His head was on 
the edge of her pillow; his other hand was outstretched and rested on her 
own arm. Her first thought was wondering what Will and Deanna made of it. 
Obviously she and the captain had been very content in sleep --- Deanna could 
certainly perceive that. 
	More importantly than that: Beverly was immensely amused. She was 
reminded of Wesley's sleepless nights as a child of three when she would 
cradle him in her own bed until he fell asleep. To imagine the captain 
reduced to this...she very nearly snickered at the idea.
	She turned over and reached to shake his shoulder. "Jean-Luc," she 
whispered, "wake up."
	He was plunged deep into a dream, and mumbled, "Darling..."
	Will and Deanna had certainly heard that, for smiles bloomed on 
both of their faces. Beverly shook him again, repeating, "Jean-Luc, wake 
up."
	Sleepily he replied, "Dear...please....not on duty yet...."
	_So much for the "minute-man"..._, mused she.
	Now the counselor and the commander whispered to one another, 
apparently in the belief that much more had actually happened on that side 
of the fire. Beverly said to them, "This *isn't* what you think."
	Riker, eyes ever-twinkling, replied, "Of course not, doctor." 
Obvious sarcasm brimmed in his voice. Deanna covered her mouth with her 
fingertips to stifle a giggle.
	The two of them stood, and Deanna stretched her arms over her head. 
"What a delightful night. However...I must report for duty...."
	"As do I," added Will.
	"...so you, doctor, can be left to awaken our slumbering captain, 
any way you see fit. See you on the bridge," Deanna finished with a touch 
of playfulness. Riker called for the arch, and the two of them left the 
holodeck.
	When the computer's time hit 700 hours, the program began to change, 
a sort of built-in failsafe: the fire went down to embers, and the 
sky began to warm with the first rays of the sun.
	As predictable as clockwork, Picard began to rouse awake from the 
ruddy haze of daybreak. For a moment he was utterly disoriented, and 
muttered, "Where the devil...?" as he sat up on one elbow, blinking the 
sleep from his eyes. Upon seeing his close proximity to the lovely doctor, 
he quickly sat up stick straight and tugged down the bottom of his jacket 
in habit, snapping back into his role as captain. "Good morning, Doctor 
Crusher."
	"Jean-Luc. Sunrise here is breathtaking," she responded, her hair and 
skin aglow with the warm rays of the Earth sun.
	He was evidently between a rock and a hard place, and replied, as 
if he felt compelled to do so, "It certainly is."
	She took in a long breath of fresh morning air, and sighed.
	Changing the subject he said, true to form, "Duty's approaching. 
We should get back to quarters and change." He stood and called out, 
"Computer, end pro---"
	Before he could finish she countered his call: "Computer, belay 
that order. Jean-Luc, you're doing it again, being the captain and not 
being the man. At the very least, sit down here with me and let the sun 
finish rising."
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The end. Copyright 1992 by sandra g. Really, it isn't WORTH ripping 
off.....
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