Standard Disclaimer: Hark! the fanfic writers sing/Glory to Paramount the King/No profit made or copyright defiled/Just our imagination running wild

It was Beverly that finally returned Jean-Luc to his senses. She was coughing, softly at first, then deep body wrenching barks that were painful to hear. He looked up from his position, towering over Ronin, beating him much as he imagined Ronin had beaten Beverly. Unlike Beverly, Ronin hadn't resisted the assault.

Ronin simply looked at him, waiting for the next blow. Jean-Luc backed away as if burned. "No," he whispered, "no." His whole sense of self shifted dangerously. He was Jean-Luc Picard, a Starfleet officer, a diplomat, a man of peace. He was not someone who would beat an unresisting being. He was a man of peace!

He turned to Beverly, searching for his anchor. He needed her strength, her unshakable sense of self. He found a shattered child, too weak even to sit up. "No!" he cried, and suddenly found himself on his knees. "Beverly!"

Another fit of coughing shook her and Beverly understood that she was dying. Not the glorious oh-so-noble self-sacrifice that came quickly when you didn't expect it. Not like Jack. This was the slow leeching away of a life that she suddenly wanted desperately to continue. She'd been so wrong, so very wrong. And now she would die.

She forced her eyes open one last time, needing to see everything, Ronin, Jean-Luc, Nana. It didn't matter what they looked like now, she saw them only as she wished, vibrant and loving. The smell of her burnt flesh faded, replaced by the scent of flowers and herbs. Beverly felt the cold that had chilled her into her bones change into a glowing warmth. She managed a smile. So it ends.

"Beverly!"

The name was torn from two throats simultaneously. Jean-Luc raced to her side, taking up her arm, feeling her wrist for a pulse. Faint. Fading.

Ronin rose, dirt and wet grass clinging to him. He went to Beverly's side, ignoring Jean-Luc, and studied the limp woman. Still alive. He melted into his cloud form and surrounded her, healing her, keeping her alive, not caring about the energy he was expending. Without Beverly he would be dead anyway.

After an agonizing wait, Jean-Luc heard Beverly sigh. Her eyelids fluttered open, then closed and she slept. Slowly Ronin withdrew and took human form beside her.

"She is alive for now."

Something in his voice drew Picard's attention. Ronin looked older and very pale. "What's wrong with you?"

"I need to merge with a host, Captain. My candle was destroyed. I've survived most of the past year in Felisa's decaying corpse. Beverly fought me, forcing me to expend too much of myself. Stopping the fire, saving her, have cost me dearly."

"You're dying?" Jean-Luc was shocked. All Beverly had talked about was killing this creature. It seemed she had succeeded.

Ronin nodded slowly, looking at Beverly, then at the captain. "Ironic, is it not? I only wanted to love her, to care for her, I now I will have cost us both our lives." He dropped to his knees facing Felisa Howard's grave.

"Forgive me, my love. Forgive me."

This was all too much for Jean-Luc. He sat down gracelessly and shook his head. Reaching out, he cradled Beverly's injured hands in his.

"Let me understand this - you lure Beverly here, haunt her, abuse her, tell her lies about her family and then drive her to attempt suicide. Then you save her and risk your life to heal her? Why?"

Ronin shook his head slowly. "I don't know," he admitted at last. "I never wanted to hurt her, even when she destroyed my candle and left me to die." Ronin held his hand out to Jean-Luc appealing to him for understanding. "Felisa was my lover for many years, Captain. And I loved her as much or more than all of my previous women. Captain, I kept Felisa going after Isabel's death. I helped her raise Beverly, although not in the usual sense. I loved her. I loved them both."

Ronin stood, walking over to Beverly, seeing she was conscious and awake. He petted her, careful not to hurt her. "Can you imagine what it was like, living inside of Felisa, feeling her dying? Knowing that the woman you love will be gone and you will die and that there's not a damn thing you can do about it?" Emotions choked the being and he took a moment to calm himself.

"When I sensed Beverly, I thought I was saved. I thought I would have love and life again. And I thought I would fulfill my promise to Felisa." Ronin looked away for a moment. "I never imagined she would try to destroy me."

"The phaser blast scattered my energy. It took me days to regain my consciousness. When I had, I searched for someone else who would be compatible. There was no one. My only choice, my one hope for survival was to merge with Felisa again and wait for Beverly. I never expected it would take so long."

"All that time, I was trapped in that coffin, slowly dying. When I sensed Beverly was here, I tried to contact her but she was too angry and upset to listen to me. I tried to make her listen, but things got out of hand." Ronin leaned over Beverly, his expression one of sorrow and deep regret. "I never meant to hurt you, my love. I was frightened and angry and you were so angry, too."

Ronin looked directly at Jean-Luc. "It wasn't all me. Hurting her, forcing her. She responded to it, wanted it. That's why she responded to you when you were assaulting her."

Jean-Luc looked at the anaphasic being and realized he was right. Odd, how it took an outsider to reveal truths in a cold light, to teach lessons one had always feared to learn. His whole relationship with this woman he had loved for so long would need to be examined, if she lived.

If she lived. They had to get her to an infirmary. Now that it appeared Ronin could be reasoned with, there was no more reason to allow Beverly this sacrifice. "We have to get help for her."

"I can't help you," Ronin lamented. He had driven her to this, and now, all three lives were doomed. His and Beverly's physically, and Picard's--his would lose all meaning without the woman they both loved.

Jean-Luc considered. Beverly was too badly burned to be carried, and he had seen no ground transport at the Howard home, nor any along the way. "There is a small Starfleet liaison office on the colony, and they have transport facilities. I'll go back to the house and contact them. You...do what you can to keep her safe."

"I will try, Picard, but I can not perform miracles."

"Will you be able to transport to the infirmary with Beverly?"

"I don't know. I will try, but I may be too weak. The transport may kill me." He dissolved into his energy form, too weak to maintain a body. "I will try."

Picard took off at a run, and it wasn't until he had arranged for Beverly's transport that he realized what he had done. Had he been mad, leaving Beverly alone with Ronin? It was only hours ago that the creature had raped her, had also convinced him to rape Beverly, had threatened to sell her to Orion slavers, and had driven her to this suicidal act. What had he been thinking of, to trust Beverly with him when she was at her most vulnerable?

He called in some more favors, arranging for his own transport to the infirmary. Beverly had been placed in stasis until skin clones could be grown, not to cover all her burns (that would take weeks) but enough to save her from fatal infection. He paced the halls, but Ronin did not make his presence known. Should he chase the Howard family ghost? It might be futile; if there was any justice in the universe, the creature had died, and when Beverly was better, the two of them could forget all this had ever happened, that they had ever seen the truth and the secrets.

After an hour, the pacing wore Jean-Luc out. It would be many more hours before Beverly would be allowed to see anyone, and in the meantime he was not endearing himself to the busy medical staff. They were fighting to save Beverly's life, and he was in the way. He left the building, walking seemingly aimlessly, but knowing he would return to the graveyard.

As he opened the cemetery gate he called out for his counterpart and enemy. A weak voice answered him, unseen, from by Felisa's grave.

"You didn't go to the infirmary."

"I couldn't. The energy was too strong. How is Beverly?"

"I think she'll live."

"Will they be able to repair the damage?" Ronin asked. "Will they be able to make her as beautiful as before?"

"I hadn't thought to ask. What does it matter, so long as she lives?"

"It would matter to her." Ronin spoke from his own experience. "You have no idea what it is like, day after day, year after year, to look in the mirror and not see yourself, see some stranger. There are things you'll never understand, Picard."

"And you do?" His ire was rising again. He had been Beverly's friend for decades. Who was this alien to tell him what was and what was not important to his best friend? And why did what Ronin say sound so right? Again, as so many times before, Picard switched tracks, maneuvering sharply away from that which came too close.

"You're dying."

The voice which was Ronin replied. "Yes. Are you glad?"

"Shouldn't I be?"

"I may be the last of my kind. I'm almost certainly the only anaphasic lifeform of my type you'll ever meet, and you've helped me--helped me kill myself."

How did Ronin know how to push every one of Picard's buttons, appealing to every instinct he had cultivated over his long career? He could not let this species die out for his own personal, petty revenge. Even for Beverly. Surely there was a way to save Ronin while keeping him from merging with the last of the Howard women.

The candle. Of course. It was plasma based, wasn't it? And there was plasma in the weather station, plasma he knew Ronin could live in, having done it before. Getting the plasma, though, meant getting permission from Governor Maturin.

After reassuring himself that Ronin would try to hold on and stay alive (after all, he had gone to outrageous lengths to stay alive before, he wouldn't give up easily now, especially after Picard reminded him Beverly might need his help to heal) he hurried back to the Howards' home and its comm unit.

It didn't surprise him that Maturin refused his first call, or his second; they were made more for form's sake than results, allowing the governor a chance for payback. On the third call, Picard bullied his way past a half dozen clerks and undersecretaries to speak directly with Maturin.

"I see you've taken care of the Beverly Crusher situation," he said, with no preamble.

"In a manner of speaking," Picard replied.

"So well, in fact, that she's now lying in the hospital with third degree burns over 68% of her body. What amazes me is how highly Starfleet thinks of the two of you."

Jean-Luc needed a favor from the pompous little bureaucrat, and so he let the sting whiz by, unremarked. "I need to take some plasma from the weather grid."

"I remember what happened last time you people messed with my weather system. The rain ruined the most important caber toss of the year."

Picard fought hard to keep his eyes from rolling, and wondered how he had gotten stuck, throughout his career, with placating so many provincial, petty politicians. He waited Maturin out, waited for the decision.

"All right, all right. Take a little--a little, mind you, now-- and on one condition."

Picard bit back his retort. He would repay the governor for his insults later when Beverly was no longer in danger. Right now the only thing that mattered was getting that plasma as quickly as possible.

"Your condition, Governor?"

"I want you and Beverly Crusher off my planet, Captain, as fast as possible. And I don't expect to ever see either of you again."

"I can't speak for Beverly, Governor, but I will be glad to leave Caldos as soon as Beverly is well again. I'll arrange to collect the plasma myself, Governor. Thank you for your help. Picard out."

Thank you for your help, Picard muttered after the connection was terminated, more like thank you for nothing. Forcing his mind back to the matter at hand, he called for transport to the weather station.

The junior officers manning the Starfleet liaison office were awestruck at meeting the great Captain Picard and were more than happy to assist him and Dr. Crusher. Picard suspected they were also very grateful for the excitement. Caldos wasn't exactly a choice posting. For once he was glad for the recognition of being the captain of the Federation flagship. Even if he didn't currently have a ship.

Securing the plasma in its inelegant silver container took longer that he had hoped, and Picard was sure he detected Maturin's influence at work. He definitely owed that man a visit. But for now, materializing back at the Howard home, Picard 's only concern was getting to the cemetery.

He hadn't dared to ask the liaison officer to beam direct - Maturin would have a field day with that - so he found himself walking rapidly through the fading daylight towards the cemetery alternately hoping that Ronin would still be alive or that he would be too late and the anaphasic being would already be dead.

Setting the heavy plasma container down with a clang, Picard stepped up to Felisa's grave. He called quietly, over and over, but Ronin did not answer. Jean-Luc found himself suddenly weak, not knowing if it was from sorrow or relief. He sat beside Felisa Howard's grave, placed his head in his hands and thought of nothing.

Only to be awoken by an insistent angry whispering.

"... damn fool, wake up!."

"Ronin."

"Yes. You were gone long enough. I thought you weren't coming back." The being's voice was weak. "Open the container Picard, unless you went to all that trouble just to torture me as I die."

Picard hurried over to the plasma container and opened it slightly. He heard a hissing sound and then what could only be a sigh of pleasure. He closed the container again, feeling like he'd trapped a genie, and smiled just a little.

By the time he returned to Beverly's house, the ground transport he had requested was waiting. He thanked the ensign profusely, then allowed himself a call to the hospital. Beverly had been removed from the critical list but she was still in guarded condition and no he could not see her until late tomorrow at the earliest and goodnight captain click.

Then he was alone in the silent dark house surrounded by the smell of burnt flesh and dried herbs. It was a disquieting odor. Having nowhere else to go and few favors left to call in, he tried to distract himself by exploring the house.

The downstairs was untouched by the fire, as were the stairs and what must have been Beverly's room. He spent some time there trying to imagine the room as it had been while she lived in it. It was a lovely fantasy. But that odor ruined it.

He walked the rest of the way down the hall, ignoring closed doors that led to unknown places. He had to see the room.

She had started the fire in the bed. Its linens and mattress were gone as were the drapes. The frame had fallen and was little more than a heap of wood and ashes. The braided rug beside the bed where Beverly had stood, arms outstretched, was almost all gone, just a few fragments of charred fabric remained. Beneath was the blackened floor miraculously still intact. The rest of the furniture was all still standing, though showing varying degree of fire damage. The closet across from the bed was open and all of the clothing was charred. A black starburst pattern framed both windows, as though Ronin had drawn the fire out through them before extinguishing it.

Picard started to gasp, struggling for air, as the experiences of the past 24 hours struck his conscious all at once. Of all the horrible sights, the image that wouldn't leave was that of Beverly, surrounded by flame. It was exactly as he had imagined Robert and Renee had looked, trapped in that burning barn.

It was well into the early morning hours before Jean-Luc was able to move from his vigil in the bathroom, sitting in that room where first he had seen Beverly abused, and then had seen her burning. Those images played over and over in his mind until he was finally too exhausted to feel the horror and fear any longer. Then he went downstairs, extinguished the fire in the fireplace and wept.

It was midmorning when he awoke, groggy and not at all rested. He cleaned up as best he could in the small half bath downstairs refusing even to consider entering the upstairs bathroom again. After a forcing himself to eat a substantial breakfast, he called the hospital and arranged to visit Beverly at 2pm.

Opening the plasma container, he called to Ronin. He was greeted by "How is Beverly?"

"A little better. I can see her this afternoon. How are you?"

"Much better. I am nowhere near my full strength, but I do not need as long as a human to heal. I can survive in this plasma until Beverly and I merge."

"Are you strong enough to heal her?"

"Not completely. Not yet. I won't be able to handle the cosmetic damage yet, but I can help her to heal faster." The disembodied voice paused, then asked, "How will you get me to her? You can't exactly carry this container through the hospital."

"No, but I can replicate a candle, like the one Beverly had, and put you and the plasma into it."

"Excellent."

It took a little work to design the candle but Jean-Luc was glad for the diversion. When it was done, Ronin was pleased with the results. Jean-Luc made himself eat a light lunch, then drove slowly into town to see Beverly.

He walked slowly into the hospital carrying the candle and some flowers. The receptionist informed him that Beverly had been moved to a private room - something Jean-Luc had insisted on. She was still listed as being in guarded condition, but responding well to treatment.

Picard followed the directions he was given and finally found Beverly's room. He opened the door slowly and swallowed hard several times to calm himself.

A blanket covered her up to her chest, leaving only her arms, face and neck exposed, and most of the skin in these areas was covered by dermaplast or bandages. He thought she looked a little like a mummy.

He fussed with the flowers he brought, unable to sit still and look at her deathly pale face swathed in strips of cloth. Shifting a few items aside he placed the candle on nightstand next to her bed and softly called for Ronin.

Anaphasic energy surrounded Beverly, soothing and healing her, driving out slight infections and some of the pain. The relief he brought made Beverly sigh audibly. For a moment, Picard thought he saw her eyelids flutter, but she merely shifted position and continued sleeping.

After ten, then fifteen and finally twenty minutes had passed and Ronin still had not withdrawn, Picard ordered him out, careful to keep his voice low. Ronin replied that he would be better able to heal Beverly if he could remain in her overnight. Picard considered the options. Was Ronin just healing her or was he forcing her to merge while she was too weak to resist?

Again he called to Ronin. This was absurd, he decided. He was talking to thin air; he probably looked like a complete fool, or at least like a man who didn't realize imaginary friends were a thing best left behind in childhood.

"Don't you want what's best for Beverly?"

"Of course I do."

"Then let me heal her!"

"You don't want to heal her, you want to use her, as you've used her entire family!" Picard hissed.

"Yes, I do," Ronin insisted, but Picard was unsure which half of the accusation he was insisting upon. "I promised not to merge until she accepted me," the voice clarified.

"But she did, back at the cemetery. She said 'yes.' I heard her." For some reason, Jean-Luc felt obligated to play devil's advocate.

"She was weak, she was hurt. I manipulated her."

"Yes, you did. And I want to make sure it won't happen again."

"It won't," Ronin promised.

"Not good enough, damn it, not good enough!"

"Then join us. You'll know everything that happens."

Jean-Luc shrunk back, remembering his previous exposures to anaphasic energy.

"I won't hurt you, I promise."

"Why should I believe you?"

Ronin gave him the least logical but most convincing argument possible: because, ultimately, Beverly had.

Following Ronin's instructions, he placed his hand over Beverly's breasts, where the skin had first been grafted. He tried to rest lightly, both for fear of causing her pain and for knowledge of just where his hand lay. He then closed his eyes and tried to relax his mind, to concentrate on Ronin's actions.

His mind filled with a vortex of color and light. It grew in intensity, deeper and faster, spinning him round and round, out of control. With a yelp of pain he pulled his hand away from Beverly, cutting himself off from her and from Ronin.

Ronin said nothing, either too absorbed in healing Beverly to speak or too disdainful of Picard to mention his absence. Minutes passed, as Jean-Luc tried not to analyze what he had felt, or what was happening. All he knew for certain was that he was experiencing a growing urge to touch Beverly again. Whether it was to reassure himself that she still lived, for the vicarious pleasure of touching her, or to once again have the vortex fill his mind he was uncertain. Could this be the start of the addiction which had claimed the Howard women? Did it matter? Beverly needed Ronin's help and Ronin needed Beverly's. He had to act as chaperone to make sure that Beverly got what she needed while keeping Ronin from getting what he wanted.

Once again he laid his hand over her breasts, in the spot where Ronin had assured him would cause no harm or pain. Again the vortex swirled, drawing him in, but this time he offered it no resistance. Something tingled along his skin, like chills, like the feeling of a hesitant lover's caress. Abruptly, Jean-Luc opened his eyes. "Ronin?"

The voice was more a physical than aural sensation, silky, warm. "Shhh. Help me heal her." Jean-Luc complied, allowing himself to be drawn further into the sensations. They were sensual, but not sexual. He remembered how Beverly had looked when he had first interrupted her in her home the year before--the sensations he was feeling now, as pleasant as they were, could not have produced that reaction. He allowed himself to be pulled further into the link, confident that Ronin was not attempting to merge with her.

At eight, a nurse came in to send him away; the patient needed undisturbed sleep. But it appeared that the visitor had fallen asleep himself, soft sighs escaping his lips now and then. Through the curtains, the moonlight shone with a soft green sheen, illuminating the touching scene. She hesitated before waking the man, checking the monitors above the patient's bed. The improvement in Crusher's condition was miraculous. She noticed the man's hand on the woman's body, and somewhere in her wild Celtic heart she attributed the miracle to love.

In a way, she was right, but she had underestimated how much love, and in how many permutations, was healing Beverly Crusher.

During the night, as together they guided Beverly towards healing, Ronin and Jean-Luc talked. Something in his historian's soul had to take advantage of this time, this chance to talk with a man who had lived through centuries of wars, of truces, of arts and literature, for whom what to Jean-Luc was history was his life. They discovered a mutual love for detective fiction and Shakespeare, and a mutual terror of the Howard propensity toward public performances.

In the morning, as the sky lightened, Beverly woke. Ronin, not wanting to frighten her, withdrew, so that when she opened her eyes, the two men were flanking her, each holding one of her hands. "Jean-Luc? Ronin?"

"Welcome back, my love." It was Ronin who spoke, but Jean-Luc into whose eyes she looked.

"He's still alive?" she rasped.

"But not for long." Ronin stated his weakness as a matter of fact.

"Beverly," Jean-Luc finally spoke, lifting his eyes from hers, looking at Ronin. "We need to speak, the three of us."

"You're dying." Beverly stated, finally looking at Ronin.

He nodded once, "Yes."

"And the only way to save you is for me to agree, of my own free will, to the merging?"

Ronin nodded again, his grip on her hand tightening slightly. "Yes."

"How much longer?"

Such a simple question, asked so calmly. Fear gripped Ronin. She wanted a measure of what little time he had left. For the first time he truly believed she would let him die.

"A few hours. Perhaps a day. No more than that." He said it sadly but without pleading. He would not beg her for his life. He had caused her enough pain.

Despite everything, Jean-Luc did not want to see this being die. But he would do nothing to influence Beverly in this decision. She must make the choice alone.

"I want a mirror." Beverly said abruptly. She tried to sit up. It was Ronin who stopped her, touching her gently as he eased her back to the pillow.

"You must not get up my lo... Beverly. You are not yet strong enough."

"But I am alive. Because of you."

Ronin didn't answer so Jean-Luc spoke for him. "Yes, he saved your life. At the risk of his own."

"And it was I that drove her to such desperate action in the first place. My death is only just."

"Please, I ... a mirror. I need a mirror."

"Why?" Jean-Luc wanted to know, but Ronin understood. He looked around the room but could not find a mirror. He caressed Beverly's cheek, barely touching her fragile skin.

"You do not need a mirror. You are still yourself. That has not changed."

"But it has." Beverly's eyes misted. "Don't you see? I was so sure of what I was doing that I was willing to sacrifice everything. Everything."

"I brought you to this, my love." Ronin said mournfully.

"No, Ronin. You both did. And I let it happen."

Jean-Luc motioned Ronin to step back. Beverly's voice was rising and he feared she would alert the nurses to her distress. "Beverly, please."

"No, Jean-Luc, this is important. Ronin is dying. I can save him or I can condemn him. But I do not know who I am." She shook her head slightly and tears glistened on her cheeks. "Everything I was. Everything I thought I was is gone. I am not a daughter or granddaughter - mother and Nana are dead. And they are not who I thought they were. I am not a wife or sister, or even a mother now that Wes is gone. I am not a doctor or CMO, the ship and my patients are gone too."

Jean-Luc tried to interrupt but this time Ronin stopped him. "Hear her. You must listen."

"Jean-Luc, I have nothing of myself left to cling to. Even you turned me away. I have nothing. Nothing. There is nothing." She broke off with a sob.

"Beverly." Ronin leaned down to caress her again looking directly into her eyes. "You must not do this. You have lost much in your life, my love, and I was not able to help you or to save those you loved from dying, but you have not lost yourself. You are still you, brave and strong and beautiful. I will not allow you to doubt yourself like this."

He allowed his hand and arm to dissolve into energy, surrounding her face, removing the scarred flesh, restoring her beauty. When he was done, he was too weak to reshape his hand. The arm now terminated in a small green cloud.

"Ronin," Jean-Luc said, staring in fascination as the being's human form flickered and ran. "You must return to the plasma before it's too late."

"No. I caused this suffering. It does not matter that I was driven to madness. I have hurt my love and now I will pay penance with my life. I do this of my own free will, Beverly. You are not responsible for my decision."

He turned to Picard. "All I ask is that you return me to Felisa's side. I would see her one more time before I die."

"No." The word was out before Jean-Luc realized he was speaking. He looked at Ronin, standing silently beside Beverly, his head bowed, his form fading, accepting that even his last wish would be denied.

Jean-Luc could not allow this being to die. He looked at Beverly. She was still so weak and now forced to make such a choice. Jean-Luc didn't know why but he couldn't stand by and let her condemn this being to his death.

"Beverly."

"No, Jean-Luc, don't say anything. This must be my decision alone."

"Then decide. He is dying."

"As I almost did." She shuddered. "Perhaps who I am is Phoenix, reborn in the flames, for I do not find anger or pain in my memories, Ronin. I find forgiveness."

Ronin looked up, meeting Beverly's eyes, sure that this was one last cruel joke. She returned his gaze steadily then held up her arms, spreading them wide. "My own free will."

Ronin stepped towards her, then hesitated, looking at Jean- Luc. "And what of you? Will you take her as lover, as you've always wanted? Or will you reject her because of my presence, and what I have done?"

"Beverly and I will work that out. But I will never reject her again." Then Jean-Luc's voice lowered dangerously. "And I will never ever allow her to come to harm. From anyone. I have seen your weakness. If you hurt her again, it will cost you your life."

Ronin nodded. "I will not harm her, Captain. To do so when we are merged would be like hurting myself."

Beverly looked at Jean-Luc, fear suddenly in her eyes. "I do love you, Jean-Luc. No matter what happens. Please remember that." And then she looked at Ronin and said, "I accept the merging."

Jean-Luc wanted to look away. He remembered the last time Ronin and Beverly tried merging, watching Beverly in her orgasmic pleasure, and thought he would not be able to gain watch her surrendering to another man. But a macabre fascination kept his eyes on her as Ronin's form glowed above her, then inside her, as her eyes slowly changed until he could see Ronin's light shine through her newly-green irises.

Her voice, though, remained her own. "It's...it's so odd, Jean- Luc. It's not at all like last time."

"I can see that." Beverly lay quietly against the pillows, serene, far different from the woman who had writhed in the chair by the fireplace while he watched from the doorway.

"It's not at all sexual," she continued, wonder in her voice at the changes in herself and at the changes not taking place.

"Because you've agreed, you don't need to be seduced?" he theorized, amazed that he could be having such a dispassionate discussion while the woman he loved gave herself, at his prompting, to another, forever.

"Maybe. It's--it's almost like the way Will touches me. Knowing there used to be something there, and never will be again." The green energy was no longer visible, and her eyes shone brightly. She smiled and reached her hand out to Jean-Luc, understanding finally. "No, that's not it. It's his gift to us."

He thought he understood, but had to be certain. "But you gave yourself to him."

"And he took what he needed. But not what you needed." With that, she closed her eyes, able to sleep peacefully for the first time in so long, healed and healing.

He sat watching her until called out to deal with all the minutia of hospitalization--the forms and authorizations, the endless administrivia which Beverly usually took care of, and now needed him to deal with, their roles reversed.

Visiting hours were long over, and he obeyed the nurse's request that he leave. He needed to eat, to sleep, to think, to somehow pin down all the thoughts whirling in his mind. Beverly had found a way, rebirth through fire, to deal with the past few weeks. Whether he would be as fortunate was still in doubt.

Back at the house he was plunged into controlled chaos. Investigators (no doubt sent by that busy-body Maturin) who wanted to know how and why the fire started, whether there was any criminal activity or if the house had been so badly neglected over the year that it had to be condemned; nosy neighbors (and where had they been while Beverly was suffering alone?) who wanted to glean their bits of gossip, a hospital administrator who needed to arrange credit transfers, Starfleet wanting to know when he would be returning, a counselor who seemed to deduce that Beverly had tried to harm herself and wondered if it would not be best to commit her for treatment. Jean-Luc sidestepped, prevaricated, and outright lied when he had to; this, at least, was something he could do for her that Ronin could not.

Ronin. He was alone with her today; he would always be with her. But he had not chosen to claim Beverly's body--why not? Could it really be that he and Beverly might still have a future? And if they did, then what? Create a child and hand it over to Ronin? Well, Beverly was a doctor--she could make certain they had no children. If it wasn't the height of arrogance to assume that an almost fifty year old woman and an almost seventy year old man could still have children...And could he ever make love with her, with Ronin joining in? He had never been an exhibitionist, well, except for that time once, so long ago, drunk and seventeen...

A doctor called from the hospital. Beverly was still sleeping; it might be best if he did not come to visit today. The good news was that she was recuperating at a remarkable rate. She might even be allowed to go home within the week. Of course, that begged the question of where home was, considering he had virtually promised Maturin they would not linger on this planet.

Jean-Luc ignored the doctor's suggestion, as he had always ignored doctor's suggestions. Let Beverly sleep on--he had someone else he wanted to speak with. Sitting at her bedside, holding her hand in his, he called softly for Ronin.

When the man appeared, Jean-Luc noticed how very much better he looked. Young, tall and handsome again, a man who could easily win Beverly's love if he chose. It was, at last, time for that man-to-man talk he had promised the being back in another lifetime, before Beverly had descended into the fire. "If you are part of Beverly now, you will not lie to me. What do you want of me, Ronin?"

"I want you to love her." Ronin caressed Beverly's smooth cheek, then smoothed her hair. "Physically. Emotionally. I want you to be for her what I can not."

"But I thought that when you merged..." Jean-Luc faltered. "You've been together - like that. I saw you." He gestured, unable to express his thoughts.

Ronin pulled the second chair over from the far side of the bed and sat facing Jean-Luc, close enough that they could talk without disturbing Beverly. "That's part of why I can no longer be her lover. I have used her too cruelly, seducing and forcing her in my desperate madness. That is why I did not take her body when we merged."

"But you did merge. If Beverly were to be with another man, you would be there, sharing her feelings."

"I am not a voyeur." Ronin hissed, then unable to meet Picard's demanding glare, admitted, "But I would feel her pleasure. I could even intensify it, prolong her ecstasy and so increase her lover's pleasure as well."

There was a silence as Picard mulled. Ronin spent the time studying his hands, delighting in seeing himself young and vital again, as he had been when he was merged with Felisa. It was good to be whole again.

At last Jean-Luc spoke again. "What happens now?"

"What do you mean?" Ronin asked, honestly unsure of the question.

"Now that you have merged. What happens to Beverly?"

"Whatever she wants to happen. She is not bound to Caldos. She can travel the stars in your ship if she chooses. I will not influence her decision. As long as I am with her, I don't care where I go."

"Is it really that simple? Do you have no desires? No dreams to fulfill? Would you truly submit to her every whim with no complaints? And what happens when she dies?"

Ronin glared. "Have the courage to ask what you want to know, Picard. Will I force Beverly to bear a child? The answer is no." He saw the captain's doubtful expression. "It is no longer in my power to decide. I have less control over Beverly now that we are willingly merged. But," he leaned closer, "that does not mean Beverly will never have another child."

Jean-Luc opened his mouth to ask, but Ronin stopped him. "I can not read Beverly's mind, as you call it. I know some of her thoughts and I can feel her emotions, but I do not have access to her every secret. Had we joined physically during the merging , I would have better access to her mind, but that is not necessary for my survival."

Ronin looked over at the sleeping woman and smiled. Her untroubled dreams reassured him of her recovery. "Has Beverly even spoken to you of her daughter?"

"Beverly doesn't have a daughter."

"But she did. She miscarried. Felisa went to stay with her after it happened. By the time we got there, she had lost Jack, too." Ronin looked into Jean-Luc's eyes. "Don't deny her, Jean-Luc. The three of us together complete a puzzle. She needs both of us, and we need her. Of everything I did, to the both of you, the cruelest was taunting her with a daughter. I didn't know until we merged. If I had..." the being's voice trailed off, then he continued, his voice pleading, "Don't deny her. Don't let what I've done stop you from being what she needs - from being what I can no longer be. Her lover."

Jean-Luc leaned back and closed his eyes. Was it that simple? She had walked out on him. Why? Had he driven her away? Could he trust this creature before him? Would Beverly want him? How could he tell truth from lie in this drama? And what had it meant when he lay above Beverly, ready to force her as revenge for her hurting him? When had he ever blamed her for his capture by the Borg? His imprisonment and torture at the hands of Gul Madred? Had any of those thoughts and feeling been his own a nd how would he ever know for certain?

It was too much for Jean-Luc to absorb. He turned his gaze towards Beverly. His heart ached with his love for her. He could never blame her. Never.

"Ronin, I need time to think about all of this. It has been a bit overwhelming. If only I could get that Governor off my back, there would be time to sort this all out."

"Is Maturin causing trouble again?" Ronin asked, laughing. "He is quite a pest, isn't he. And persistent too. If it weren't for him, you wouldn't even be here."

That thought hung in the air for a moment but Ronin broke the tension with quiet chuckle. "You know, he's tried poking his nose into my affairs before, Captain. He was very persistent in trying to get Felisa to date him. When she refused him, he made a real pest of himself. Perhaps I should pay old Maturin a visit."

"You wouldn't cause a disturbance. He already wants Beverly and me off the planet."

"Oh, no, I won't cause a disturbance. Not much of one anyway." Ronin stood, smiling. "After all, this is a recreation of the Scottish Highlands. And the Scots do love their ghosts." And with that he faded into his usual green cloud and disappeared.

Not long after Ronin left, an officious nurse barged into the room and informed him that it was well past visiting hours. Suddenly exhausted, Jean-Luc kissed Beverly lightly on the cheek and left without an argument.

It was late the next morning when he returned to the hospital. He was delighted to find Beverly awake. She smiled at him, clasping his hand with her own. He looked at it in wonder, the skin as flawless and unscarred as it had been before the fire. He found himself swallowing hard several times to clear the lump from his throat.

"How are you?" he managed to ask.

"I am glad to be alive," she answered, her voice telling him she meant it wholeheartedly.

"Where is Ronin?"

"I don't know. He left a little while ago, saying something about act 2. He was feeling very self satisfied."

Jean-Luc pulled his chair close, still holding Beverly's hand. "Beverly, I need to know... I have to ask you..."

"Why I left you?"

"Yes," he whispered, fearing the answer to his question.

"You were so vulnerable, Jean-Luc. So hurt. I know you were trying to accept what had happened - losing Robert and Rene and the Enterprise - but you were closing yourself off. The way you always do when you are in pain. Then we had that fight - that awful fight - over nothing. I knew I couldn't watch you die by inches. Death was claiming you, Jean-Luc, and you weren't trying to stop it. It had almost taken me after Jack died. I knew I couldn't fight it again. So I left. I'm sorry."

"I was angry at you for walking out."

"I know. I wanted you angry. Anger is better than grief."

"Not when it keeps people apart. If Maturin hadn't blackmailed me into coming here..."

"I would have merged with Ronin."

"He would have forced you. This merging was of your choosing."

Beverly smiled softly. "Yes. It was a good choice. I never should have resisted."

Jean-Luc wanted to protest, but he had nothing to say. Instead, he gently squeezed her hand. They sat in silence for a while, then Beverly asked, "Did you say Maturin blackmailed you?"

"It's a long story, Beverly."

Beverly was going to protest, but she felt Ronin returning. He took his corporeal form and leaned over to kiss her cheek. "You are better, my love."

"Yes."

"Wonderful."

Beverly threw Ronin a sharp look and Jean-Luc frowned. Ronin was smiling far too much. He had to ask, "What have you been up to?"

"Nothing you wouldn't approve of, my dear Captain." He drew up a chair next to Jean-Luc and took Beverly's hand. "It was straight out of your Charles Dickens. Did you know that I saw him perform 'Christmas Carol?' He was quite the performer."

"Ronin..."

"All right, my love, details. It was all quite simple." Ronin related how he had appeared to the pesky little governor first as a fragment of history ("He has pictures of his mother simply everywhere. Now I know why he's such a simp.") and then as something from the present, ("You, my dears," he said, taking both their hands. "Although I don't think I got Jean-Luc's 'commanding attitude' quite right.") but before he could explain his Ghost Of Caldos Future, Jean-Luc interrupted him.

"You mean you took on our forms? How could you?"

Ronin laughed softly. "This is just my exterior form, my dear captain. Sometimes I really sympathize with that...that...R creature who used to visit you."

Without forethought, both humans corrected him. "Q."

"Whatever. This form is not who I am, it's just a costume I can put on and take off at will." He turned to Beverly. "Do you remember when you were very little, and Felisa took you to..." The two indulged in a shared memory, the meaning of which had been hidden from the young girl's understanding, but now was revealed to her. To Jean-Luc's ear, Ronin sounded almost paternal. Somehow, that was the worst thought of all. It was intimidating enough to contemplate taking Beverly as a lover; taking her with another lover, Ronin, was even more so. But taking her with a father figure along for the ride was almost too much to think about.

But it was good to see Beverly laughing again, cajoling, teasing. She hadn't been the woman he knew since he first arrived at Caldos; listless, apathetic, suicidal, serene, but not Beverly. He had feared the merging with Ronin would change her forever, but slowly, as she regained her health and her beauty, she regained herself as well. And Ronin could leave her for short periods of time, as he had when visiting the governor; perhaps, when the two of them were together, Ronin would go elsewhere?

But was that fair to ask of Beverly, to lay aside a part of herself to be with him? And was that truly love, if he had to ask that of her to satisfy some human squeamishness? And what exactly was it he was so uncomfortable with--the presence of another? That Ronin appeared male? The ghost of the Ronin he had originally met, so different from the genial man sitting and laughing with Beverly?

But why did he always have to share Beverly? First with Jack, and he had claimed almost all her attentions, and then with Wesley, and he had claimed almost all her attentions, and now with Ronin. Would he, too, claim almost all her attentions? Was he always to be second-best? Would he ever be able to accept that as enough, or would he one day, as had Beverly's father, seek to free his lover from Ronin's grasp?

He continued to brood, silently, until Beverly once again drifted off to sleep. Within the week she would be well enough to come home, now that Ronin had frightened Maturin into leaving them alone, but she would be weak still for quite some time.

When he was certain Beverly was past hearing, Jean-Luc called to Ronin. "Why has she forgiven you?"

"Am I influencing her? No. She's forgiven because love forgives." He smiled at Picard's skepticism. "It does. As you've forgiven her for leaving you on the Borg ship, and for Seltris III. You never really blamed her, even, because when you love, you know. And you knew she never meant you harm."

"But what you did to her parents!"

Ronin looked genuinely confused, and then recalled more of the cruel taunting he had subjected them to in his madness. "My dear, how little you know me yet. Do you think I could really do anything like that to Felisa's daughter?"

"Then you didn't try to merge with her? You didn't drive her to her death?"

"Of course not. I had Felisa--why would I need Isabel?"

"And Paul Howard? You didn't kill him?" This question was, of course, of vital interest to a man considering his position as part of this odd triangle of love.

"No, he died on Arvadda III. Unless you're implying I was to blame for that whole tragedy?" Jean-Luc shook his head; even he couldn't conceive of such an absurd idea. "Isabel and Paul were together for many years after Beverly was born; they had another child, a little boy." He answered Jean- Luc's next question before it was even uttered; he also did not know why his lies had so affected Beverly.

He glanced at her sleeping form. "She looks so like Felisa did at her age."

Suddenly, much became clear to Jean-Luc. "You loved Felisa."

"I loved all the Howard women." He could feel Jean-Luc's glare, and so confessed. "Yes, she was my great love. So now you know why I can not take another Howard woman the way I had Felisa--not Beverly, not her children. I would have done it to save my life, but it did not feel right. Maybe that's why Beverly was able to resist for so long--because she knew I did not love her, not that way, and that you did, and were waiting for her. I understand your qualms, my dear, but how long will you make her wait? Our destinies take us, sometimes in ways we do not anticipate, but our destinies take us. When will you take her?"

"Why is it so important to you?" He had dealt, in his career, with so many lifeforms, and had learned to respect the ulterior motives which drove all life.

"Because I love her, and want her happy. And you make her happy." The room was silent for too long. "Is it because of me? Am I your latest excuse? First Jack, then Wesley and your positions on the Enterprise, and now me? If so, work with me. Find where I come from, take me back. Be rid of me forever, but don't make her wait. You've both waited too long already." Ronin offered further proof of his sincerity. He was willing to be exposed, to have it known to all that Beverly hosted him, if she consented to reveal it. He agreed that any children she had, including Wesley, be made aware of his existence and his needs, although in the young man's case it was a moot point, given his total disappearance from his mother's life. And in exchange for agreeing to each of Jean-Luc's demands, he had only one of his own--that Jean-Luc allow himself to let Beverly make him whole. "You don't love yourself," Ronin whispered. "But she loves you. Let her."

The great Captain Picard, famed across three quadrants, could only stammer out the simplest of questions, overwhelmed with needs and fears. "How?"

Ronin leaned back in his chair and sighed. "You must find the answer to that question on your own.."

Five days later, one Caldosian week after the fire, Jean-Luc was still struggling to find the answer. He had divided his time between the hospital and the Howard home. It had required hard work and a great deal of help from the neighbors but when he br ought Beverly home it was to an immaculate house and yard, complete with gardens. The look on her face was more than enough reward for the challenges he'd faced in working with the neighbors.

"Jean-Luc, it's beautiful." Beverly had announced, voice thick with emotion. He smiled at the memory. She had insisted on walking among the flowers, and then inside, on inspecting all of the rooms. When they were done, she was nearly trembling with fa tigue.

A small study on the first floor had been converted into a bedroom for Beverly until she was strong enough to move back into her old bedroom. She was there now, sleeping soundly.

It was quiet in the house, and Jean-Luc wasn't ready to retire to his place on the sofa. Instead, he wandered upstairs and found himself in Nana's room. The damaged had been repaired and there was no trace of the horrible things that had happened. He had wanted to restore the room, including furniture, but Ronin had convinced him to leave it empty. Redecorating the room would give Beverly something to do as she regained her strength.

He entered the bathroom slowly. It was more difficult to push aside the memories in this room. Perhaps they should redecorate this room too.

Leaning against the wall, he slid to the floor and closed his eyes. "How?"

The question still haunted him day and night, but he knew from the moment he had asked it that he would find a way to show Beverly that he loved her. No matter how long it took.

There were good days and bad days over the next two weeks, as Jean-Luc knew there would be. Beverly was never a good patient and her weakness frustrated her.

"Try again."

"I am damnit. I can't do it!"

"Beverly..."

"Don't you 'Beverly' me in that tone of voice. I am not being unreasonable. Stop laughing!"

But he was laughing, and Jean-Luc couldn't stop. She was absolutely adorable all freckled and smudged with dirt, hair pulled back in a ponytail and baggy pants sliding dangerously low on her hips.

"Besides," she harumphed, "I hate fish."

"You do not, my love, you're just being stubborn."

"Am not. What's so special about fishing anyway? I thought we were going to go swimming?"

"We will. After we catch a fish."

"Why don't we do both at once?" she asked with a devilish smile. She slid her hands suggestively over her hips, shoving those annoying pants down around her ankles, then stepping out of them. Seconds later the shirt joined the pile and she was racing towards the water.

"Beverly!"

"Last one in has to eat that stupid fish."

Jean-Luc stared at the pile of clothes laying on the grass. She had a bathing suit on, but still, watching her casually strip made his heart race.

"Well are you going to get in the water or do I have to push you?"

"Ronin. Shouldn't you be with Beverly?"

"No, I can see her from here. Besides, I hate swimming." He gave Picard a stern glare. "It's been two weeks. Isn't it time?"

"I was thinking about it."

"I can see that." Ronin said pointedly. "Stop thinking and do something. Soon. She needs you. I'm going for a walk."

It was a clear invitation, just as all those other walks Ronin had taken over the past weeks had been. Invitations to talk to Beverly, to declare his love. To make love. And he'd ignored every one.

They didn't catch a fish and he didn't go swimming, but they had compromised and returned early for a replicated dinner and some real wine.

"That was wonderful." Beverly declared, pushing her plate away. She smiled at Jean-Luc. "And much better than fish."

Jean-Luc returned her smile and stood, moving around the table to her side. "I've kept my part of the bargain, my love, now it's your turn."

She kissed his cheek. "Indeed, sir. One evening of dancing, as agreed upon, my choice of music." She tapped the media player and soft music started. "Traditional Caldosian," she said to his questioning gaze.

They moved together, slowly pressing closer until they could feel each other's heartbeats. Beverly's breath caressed his cheek. Jean-Luc moved closer and they kissed.

He had meant it as a friendly peck. He didn't expect to meet her hungry, demanding mouth with his own, equally hungry and demanding. Her hands were on his back, digging into his flesh, bringing him closer. He managed a surprised gasp, "Beverly?"

"Yes. And yes, I love you."

They kissed again and then, without warning, she stepped back, waiting.

It was up to him then, to take the next step. Together, now, when his stomach was fluttering with self-doubt; or away, where he might never find his way back to this place.

He had a horrible thought then, as he was frozen with fear. Ronin. He looked at Beverly, her clearwater blue eyes turned indigo with the agony of waiting. It suddenly made sense to him.

He stumbled over the words, cringing at how poorly he was expressing himself even as he spoke. But he didn't stop. He needed to say these things as much as she needed to hear them. He tried to explain how he had been so hurt when she'd left and how he would do anything...anything to be together.

Somehow, with many tears they both said the things that they needed to say, as much for themselves as for the other. In the end, there were no more words necessary. Taking his hand, Beverly led Jean-Luc upstairs and down the hall to Nana's room.

He hesitated at the door, but she assured him it was all right. It had to be here, in this room where they'd both nearly lost so much. Here was the place for starting anew, amongst the fresh paint and new furniture and the small subtle traces of Beverly that had not been there before. This was where their new relationship would rise from the ashes of the old.

But the question which had plagued him these past weeks remained: how? Over the course of more than two decades he hadn't figured out how to approach Beverly, and now, with Ronin...When in doubt, a man falls back on what works, and what had always worked for Jean-Luc Picard was passivity. He had no idea how to take from her what he wanted, but was an expert on giving her what she needed; let her demand it of him.

His resolve faltered when she led him through the bedroom, stopping not as he had expected at the bed, but at the door to the bathroom. He had not entered that nightmare room again since the day he had brought her home; when she had still needed his help, he had insisted she wash in the half- bath downstairs.

She let go of his hand and ran her fingertips along his arms, stoking his desire. "There can't be parts of my life you can not enter, or of our house. It's time."

From behind him, a silky voice agreed. "Stop being such a squeamish maiden. It doesn't suit you, my love."

Never stopping her caresses of Jean-Luc, Beverly raised her eyes to meet Ronin's. "Disappear, sweetheart. I've waited too long for this to share him with you."

"Spoilsport." Jean-Luc felt a faint brush against the back of his neck, like a pair of lips in a sweet, lingering touch, and then Ronin was gone. His heart was beating double-time, aroused by Beverly's touches and terrified by Ronin's appearance. What was he letting himself in for? And did he care any more?

If he did, he stopped as soon as Beverly's long fingers began opening his shirt, whispering light touches across his chest. She slowly backed up into the bathroom, and he followed, not wanting her to break contact. The mirrors reflected and rereflected their faces, their hands unfastening each other's garments, and the moonlight and candlelight spilling in from the open door.

Beverly backed away and into the shower, still without a curtain. She turned on the water and adjusted it, then stood under its spray, arms spread wide. As she had for the fire, he thought. As she had for Ronin. She was offering her whole self, as she had the other two times, regardless of the cost and consequences. And just like the fire and just like Ronin, he could not refuse.

He stepped into the shower, spreading his own arms wide to match hers, shoulder to shoulder, fingertip to fingertip, all that was him matching all that was her. Finally, as he hoped and knew it would, his body took over for his malfunctioning brain, and he pressed Beverly hard against the shower wall, his lips insistent against hers. His hands left hers and began mimicking the water, rolling down her skin.

She moaned into his open mouth, and her hands began a trail down his spine. Soon, her lips began to follow the same trail down his front as her hands were down his back. And then she was kneeling on the shower floor, changing forever the memory of how he had found her two weeks ago, her face upturned under the water, by replacing the lead actor.

Jean-Luc gasped at the feel of her breath, her lips, her tongue, the warm moisture of the shower and the warmer moisture of her mouth. As his body began to shudder and tense under her ministrations, a thought passed through his mind which he instantly dismissed as inappropriate: was this how it had been for Ronin as he prepared to pour himself into Beverly?

The time for passivity was over. It allowed him too much time to think, and all he wanted to do was feel. He ran his fingers over Beverly's upper lip, getting her attention, and then gripped her shoulders, urging her to stand. He stepped forward, pressing her against the shower wall, lifting her hands alongside her head and holding her captive. They kissed, and he savored the difference he had made in the taste of her mouth, and the difference her taste had made in his, creating something new, unique to them. Her eyes fluttered closed.

"Open your eyes." Jean-Luc's voice was low, insistent. He had to be certain, even after all they had been through, that she knew it was him--not Jack, not Ronin, Jean-Luc Picard. As the water poured down on them, he explored her body, keeping her hands pressed against the wall as long as his own could reach that high, trapping her waist when he no longer could. He spread her legs, and the soft, helpless way she called his name when he touched his tongue to her almost forced him to rise and take her, but he forced himself, instead, to wait. Their merging must be by her insistence, as had the merging with Ronin and with the fire.

It took her several long minutes to figure this out, minutes filled with warm water falling, and moans, and gentle loving. Finally enlightened, she dropped to her knees alongside Jean-Luc, kissing him for another taste of the exotic mixture they were creating between them. He sat, and she moved up on his lap, straddling him.

They sat that way, looking at and into each other, for a minute, two. Beverly cupped her hands, gathering water, and raised them to Jean-Luc's lips. He drank, and she drank, and then she poured the rest over his chest, following the trail of the water down to his stomach and below, grasping him and guiding him inside of her.

They rocked together until their arms and legs could no longer support them, and then they rolled out of the shower and onto the bare floor. He lay above her and fought the memory flash of seeing her just this way back then. She was no longer bruised or battered, no longer was she being forced. She was almost whole now, and he completed her.

They were two parts of a puzzle, and together was the only way they both made sense. Slowly, over the course of so long, they had been learning to make each other whole, and now, with the candle and the moonlight gleaming off the waterdrops in her hair, she took him and completed them both.

He raised his head, licking the water dripping off her breasts before it could fall onto his chest. The smell of her and the knowledge of what they were, at last, doing, began to intoxicate him, and he realized that she was still entirely too self-possessed to be fair. He rolled them over as gently as he could in the narrow space, pinning her beneath him, speeding up their leisurely pace, pushing them both past the limits of reason and thought, thrusting them into that place where the world is light an d each other. He had a moment of sheer wonder at finally being allowed his most fervent wish, and then all was the blossoming desire and need.

And Beverly was beneath him, reaching up toward him, surrounding him, fire in her touch, the source of all energies, merging with him, becoming him and he becoming her. And he was inside her, reaching deeper and deeper within her, until he spilled himself inside her, giving her his life and essence, merging with her in something greater than they either were.

Afterwards, they lay on their sides, his hand heavy against her thigh, hers lightly curled up against his shoulder. They did not speak, but lovers need no words to share vows. They created a world of their own, alone and together, until the water splashing off the floor reminded him of the rest of the universe. He left the splendid cocoon they made and rose to shut the shower.

He looked down at her, lying content on the tiled floor. Two weeks ago she had looked desperate, haunted, at odds with herself and the universe. Now she looked at peace, almost whole. Her eyes shone at him the way he always had hoped they would, but the now-familiar spark was not there, and to his surprise, he found he missed it.

"Ronin?"

Beverly smiled. "He's in his candle. Sulking, I think. He doesn't like being left out."

"He shouldn't be left out." Jean-Luc held out a hand to her, and she took it, rising gracefully to her feet and pressing herself against him.

She kissed him gently. "Are you sure?"

Now it was his turn to choose. Ronin and Beverly had to choose between life and death; all he had to choose was between convention and love. "No," he gulped. "But it's right."

He led her back into the bedroom, willingly offering himself to the unknown as had Beverly, as had Ronin. The being was no where to be seen, but he was waiting for them, they knew; there were flowers everywhere, the bed covered in petals.

Beverly and Jean-Luc laid down next to each other almost shyly, slowly gaining the courage to kiss and then caress. Ronin's presence was almost forgotten as they catalogued the wonders of each other's bodies, their earlier urgency sated.

Ronin had promised not to be Beverly's lover, and would not now break his word. He could help steady her, keep her on an erotic edge when otherwise she would have fallen into an endless chasm of sensation. But Jean-Luc--ah, about Jean- Luc he had made no similar promises, and now Ronin delighted in the feel of a human body, after so many months of loneliness and death. He allowed himself the luxury of draping over his new lover, feeling, touching, giving, asking forgiveness with his actions.

Beverly smiled to see the green light flickering here and there on Jean-Luc's lean body, and began playing with the light, leading it on or following its lead. And each of their touches he reciprocated on Beverly's body, allowing them to feel the pleasure they gave him.

It was almost easy for Jean-Luc to forget the newness of these sensations as Beverly touched him and he watched her fingers dance across his chest, up his thighs. It was almost easy to lose count of how many he aroused by suckling on Beverly's neck, covering her breasts with his hands. But then he would notice one pair of hands too many on his body, or feel a touch somewhere even Beverly's long fingers could not reach, and he would remember Ronin.

It took a long time for Jean-Luc to learn to relax into their touches, and when he did, he was breathless with desire. Beverly kneeled beside him, her hungry mouth exploring his own, and around him, the energy flowed like a blanket. He was no Howard, and yet Ronin--neither man nor woman, formless and genderless--was seducing him with skillful touches and sensual caresses. How had Beverly ever been able to resist?

His eyes closed, he could no longer tell the difference in touch, could no longer differentiate between Beverly and Ronin. That was as it should have been, since they were now one. He felt a weight settle above him, but still did not open his eyes, almost afraid at what he might see. He could not last long this way; his self-control was eroding quickly. He called out to Beverly, his voice hoarse with need, and was answered by both voices.

Jean-Luc rolled her onto her back, and with Ronin as his guide, explored the treasure below him. He learned his lessons well, making her gasp as he traced a fingernail against the base of her palm, inhaled on the skin inside her elbow, caressed the arch of her foot. The green light flitted over her breasts, her stomach, down the inside of her thighs, and Jean-Luc followed with his hands and his mouth, rewarded by the sounds of pleasure Beverly made.

And then the energy was gone, no longer guiding either of them, and they knew what they had to do next, wanted to do next. Gently, he ran his hands up her calves, her thighs, separating her legs, preparing the way. Gently, he entered her, and gathered her in his arms, kissing her gently, gently.

Then Ronin returned, blanketing them, plunging them deeper into each other and the world of sensation they created within and for each other. They were a complex puzzle, the three of them, burning with a strange fire which could only be fed this way and could only be extinguished one way. But because of Ronin, and because they had waited for this so long, they remained on the brink of eternity. Slowly, more accustomed to the rhythms they invoked and the gradually increasing pace, small details became important--the feel of her breasts brushing against his chest; the tingle of energy running along his back, her sides; the smoothness of her legs running up and down his rougher skin. Like puzzle pieces they fit together, with Ronin the glue that bound them.

And then, finally, they moved against each other faster, harder, their bodies demanding satisfaction. Beverly arched up off the bed, pulling him deeper in. Jean-Luc readjusted his legs and his arms, seeking to bathe himself more fully in her welcoming he at. Ronin drew closer, caressing, reflecting, mirroring the passion each felt for each other, adding his own unvoiced whispers of love as they opened their minds and hearts, completing the circle of love and desire. He touched their minds as gently as they touched each other, and as she tightened around the lover he had secured for her, Ronin caressed their bodies like a shower of sweet, stolen kisses.

Beverly spooned her body against Jean-Luc's to sleep that night, on the large bed in the room that had housed their dreams, both good and bad. During the night, when he woke, startled by the unfamiliarity of this woman in his embrace, he could have sworn he felt another body pressed against his back. The puzzle was complete, and he could fall back into the embrace of dreams.

When he woke again it was mid-morning. There was a warm body cradling him and he nestled against it with a contented sigh, allowing his eyes to drift closed; only to be awakened again by a faint clattering of metal pans.

"Beverly?" he whispered to the person holding him.

"That's her," Ronin replied, "making her usual infernal racket in the kitchen. It's dangerous in there when she cooks. Particularly when she's worked up an appetite."

Jean-Luc sat up quickly, pulling out of the suddenly awkward embrace. Ronin remained where he was, smiling at the view. They looked at each other for a moment, each waiting for the other to decide what to do. Finally, Jean-Luc sighed and climbed out of bed, snatching up a robe and putting it on.

"Problems, my love?"

Picard's expression froze, then went carefully blank. "I would prefer you not call me that."

Ronin stood, careless of his nudity. This form, after all, was nothing but a costume. "Then what would you have me call you? Surely not Captain Picard?"

"No, no, you don't have to be so formal, but something less..."

"Sexual?" Ronin prompted, slipping on his clothing.

"Exactly."

Ronin pouted, "You let Beverly call you that."

"Yes, well, that is a little different."

Ronin looked at him hard. "Is it? Beverly and I are one now. You know that." He frowned, "You're not having regrets about last night?"

Before he could answer, Beverly called up to them, "You'd better come to breakfast soon or I'm starting without you, Jean-Luc."

Jean-Luc was surprised to see a wistful look in Ronin's eyes. He looked a question at the anaphasic being.

"Yes," Ronin said with a smile, "Beverly definitely inherited the Howard women's appetites." At Jean-Luc's upraised eyebrow he added, "All of them," and walked out of the room.

By the time he made himself presentable and arrived at the table, Beverly was well into her plate of waffles. The smell was delightful and it made Jean-Luc's mouth water. He had no trouble eating a hearty meal, deciding it was certainly late enough to call it brunch.

Beverly offered him teasing smiles around her fork, watching as he ate. They didn't talk much, but Jean-Luc had deliberately chosen the chair closest to her and then moved it even closer. She lay one hand on his leg as they finished their meal.

Their lips came together in a syrup sweetened kiss, followed quickly by a second and third. It wasn't long before they were on their feet, caressing and touching each other as they moved slowly towards the stairs.

Ronin watched the whole thing from the corner where he'd retreated to read. He didn't need to eat like they did, and preferred not to watch. He considered joining the pair as they retreated to the bedroom, then decided against it. He would join them later; right now there were dishes to be done.

Six weeks after the fire, Beverly's doctor released her from his care, pronouncing her healed and remarking on her miraculous recovery. Ronin and Jean-Luc insisted she continue with her physical therapy. Two days later she decided she disliked her therapist, so they undertook the task themselves. It was not easy for any of them.

After one particularly difficult session, Beverly left the house in tears. Jean-Luc wanted to follow immediately, but Ronin held him back.

"Let her go, Captain. I know where she is."

Jean-Luc sat down with a defeated sigh and put his head in his hands. "Do you know what's wrong?"

Ronin managed a smile at the question. Of course he knew. "She is in pain, and frightened, Captain. Frightened of the pain. Frightened she will not be able to dance again. Frightened of leaving Caldos." Ronin took Jean-Luc's hand in his and studied it. "You are an explorer, Jean-Luc. You seek bold new frontiers. Do not let the stars seduce you into forgetting that the relationship between two people who love each other is one of those frontiers."

"Beverly thinks I'm going to leave her?"

"Everyone else has, Jean-Luc. Even her son."

"But I would never, never..."

"You must show her that. Everyday. As often as she needs to see and hear it until she believes it in her heart." Ronin sat back in his chair. There was no need for Jean-Luc to be told to go to her. He knew it himself. Without another word, the captain left the house, knowing without being told where Beverly could be found.

She was on her knees beside Nana's grave, head bowed and tears running freely. This position hurt after a physical therapy session, but she kept it anyway, in defiance of her pain.

Jean-Luc sat beside her and pulled her gently into his embrace. He petted her, letting her cry, until tears stopped wetting his hands. He kissed her head and helped her to her feet. They had things to talk about, but not here among the dead. They were going to talk about the future.

There was a swing on the back porch of the Howard home, placed there by a very amused Jean-Luc. He'd bought it on impulse the last time he and Beverly had gone shopping. It was big enough for four people to sit in, or, as Beverly had proven, for two people to lie in. She'd taken to napping in that swing every afternoon after lunch. Sometimes he joined her.

Today he sat beside her in the swing, holding her hands in his. She had already wiped the tears away but there were still traces of them. He kissed her cheek.

"We need to talk, Beverly, about us." Jean-Luc cleared his throat, desperate for a way to begin this conversation. She started it for him.

"Ronin told you I was afraid. That everyone leaves me, and that I think you will too." He nodded, encouraging her. "It's not the whole truth. Oh, Jean-Luc, if you could understand what it was like. I was so young when my father died. I can barely remember his face, and more of that is from Nana's descriptions than my own memory. My brother, I don't remember him at all. Only what Nana said." Beverly shifted in her seat to look directly at Jean-Luc.

"Do you know what it's like having to depend on other people's memories of your mother or father or brother because you have so few of your own? Maybe that's why Mama's vase is so important to me. And why I was so willing to believe Ronin's lies about Mama. A memory, even a false one, is better than nothing."

"No it's not." Jean-Luc's hand tightened on Beverly's, but he was still careful not to hurt her. Her hands were still healing too. "False memories are never better. Never."

She turned her head away. "Then I have nothing."

Jean-Luc gently guided her face towards his. "You have us, my love. And our future."

There was a warmth surrounding her, then a green glow and Ronin appeared, sitting on her other side, away from Jean- Luc. He slid a hand down her leg. "And you will have your dancing. If you practice."

Beverly smiled at him. "Only if you stop being such a harsh taskmaster."

Ronin offered, "No promises," with a smile of his own. He stroked her cheek, then looked at Jean-Luc, silently asking to talk to the man alone. Jean-Luc kissed Beverly and excused himself to get a pillow and blanket. When he returned, Ronin had lulled Beverly into a peaceful sleep.

Tenderly covering her, Jean-Luc resisted the urge to give her a light kiss. He didn't want to wake her. Ronin waited for him to follow as he returned to the parlor.

"I can give her the memories she lacks," he said without preamble.

"What?" Picard demanded, "How?"

"If I merge with Beverly physically, just once, I can merge the memories I have of Isabel and Paul with hers. She'll remember their faces, their voices, even some of the things they did together. It's not a complete record of her childhood, but it's better than what she's got."

"I thought you were fully merged with her now. Why doesn't she already have access to these memories?

"Because I took only what I needed to survive. We are more separate than any of my other mergings were. She does not have access to all of my knowledge, or my memories. It is quite a relief, actually."

"Why?"

"Because I would not want her to have access to my memories of assaulting her. I wish I didn't have access to it either."

The anguish in the being's tone shook Jean-Luc. He was so close to this entity, he couldn't bear for him to suffer this much. "Ask her," was all he could offer.

So he did, after she awoke from her nap and had had a snack. Jean-Luc carefully absented himself to the parlor. Far enough away to eliminate distraction while still being close enough to jump in immediately if Ronin tried coercion.

To everyone's surprise, including hers, Beverly refused. To accept would mean receiving the sum total of Ronin's memories, not just those of her family. It was more than she would ask - for this being to open himself up to her like that.

Instead, she asked Ronin to tell her what he remembered, like bedtime stories. From then on, every night after the three of them made love, Ronin would cradle Jean-Luc and Beverly and tell them what he remembered of Isabel and Paul and their two children. It was the perfect way to fall asleep.