Notes: This story is a pre-quel to the TNG episode "Attached". The novel cover art is by Jason K. Mackey-Hauck of "Nightwing Fic Media E-Publishing" and "Star Trek: New Worlds" fanfic anthology. Donations via paypal appreciated.
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This takes place a week after Jack's funeral.
Jean-Luc Picard walked a pace slightly slower than that of a man with a purpose. She sent him a message yesterday and asked him to their apartment tonight for dinner. 'She' being Beverly Crusher and 'their apartment' being her and Jack's apartment. It had been a week since the funeral of his best friend and second in command of the Stargazer, Jack Crusher. Jean-Luc was completely consumed with wondering why she wanted to see him – the man who brought home the body of her dead husband. The man whose decisions cost her husband his life. He thought she would be angry with him for killing her husband and father to their son. Perhaps that's why she invited him, to yell at him and tell him she wished it were him instead and that she never wanted to see him again.
He didn't waste any time leaving after the funeral service was over. The pieces of his already broken heart were crushed at seeing Beverly and Wesley at the funeral. Both woman and child were stone-faced attempting to be strong for each other. He saw no point in staying. He didn't know what he would have said to her that he hadn't already when he accompanied her to view Jack's body days before the funeral. And Wesley. He looked so much like his father. He hardly knew what to say to a child under normal circumstances. What does one say to a six-year old who's just lost his father?
What Jean-Luc had to say to Jack could wait and did until he visited Jack's grave a few days ago. Jean-Luc said things he never told Jack when the younger man was alive. He told him something he never told anyone else – and likely never would – and he asked Jack questions he would never receive answers to.
Before he realized it, he stood at her door. He looked at the door then the floor at his feet. It wasn't the first time he hesitated at this door. He took a deep breath. 'Let's get this over with.' He thought as he raised his hand to signal his presence. He dropped his hand at his side then decided to clasp his hands together in front of him.
Beverly was standing at the stove, lost in thought, when she heard the door chime. She froze. A couple seconds later, she released the breath she didn't realize she held in and walked to the door. She started to give the command for the door to open then paused. She stepped up to the door and put both hands on it at shoulder level and leaned her forehead against the door. She inhaled sharply and her breath caught in her throat as her body shuddered with the beginnings of a sob. Tears immediately spilled from her eyes but she quickly inhaled through her nose, successfully stifling her remaining tears. She used both hands to wipe the tears from her face and dried the backs of her hands on her shirt then took a deep breath. This was something she needed to do, she told herself. She backed away from the door a step then pressed the pad to open it. Jean-Luc stood patiently with his hands clasped in front of him. He wore khaki-colored trousers with a white, long-sleeved, crewneck t-shirt. He looked tired but freshly cleaned up.
"Jean-Luc." She breathed his name and smiled politely, unsure of how to greet him. Should she smile broadly and act as if she were pretending to be strong or should she remain as somber and insensate as she felt at that moment?
"Hello." He said.
"Please, come in." She gestured inside.
Her features told him she was exhausted and she cried recently. That aside, she looked lovely, as she always did. She wore a light blue, long-sleeved, button-up shirt with black leggings. He assumed the shirt was one of Jack's by the size of it on her. She rolled up the sleeves and left the top couple buttons undone. The shirt hung to the tops of her thighs and her feet were bare. She loved being barefoot whenever she could and he rarely saw her wear shoes at home.
