|De-Tached: Story One: Life With Beverly
Author: mabb5 PM
After their Risian honeymoon, Jean-Luc and Beverly return to San Francisco to start their new lives together. But Jean-Luc discovers that he needs to make some adjustments in order to peacibly live with Beverly. This is the first story in the sequel to "Attached Meant". It would help to read that novel first but it is not necessary to do so.Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Family - J. Picard & B. Crusher - Chapters: 5 - Words: 15,230 - Reviews: 32 - Favs: 3 - Follows: 12 - Updated: 11-26-12 - Published: 11-05-12 - Status: Complete - id: 8678363
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A.N.: Rather that write a long novel sequel to ATTACHED MEANT, I've decided to write a series of short stories and/or novellas set in the ATTACHED MEANT A/U. This story takes place right after the newly-weds, Jean-Luc and Beverly, arrive on Earth. They've moved into the San Francisco house that Jean-Luc inherited from his Aunt Adele. Jean-Luc is about to become the Superintendent of Starfleet Academy, and Beverly is soon to become the head of Starfleet Medical.
Though it would help to understand some of the plot details, it is not absolutely necessary for one to have read ATTACHED MEANT. Though I do recommend reading it if only to understand some of the people that are going to bedevil Jean-Luc and Beverly. And their plotlines.
This story is set in the universe I created right after the episode "Attached". So everything that happened in canon after that episode no longer exists here. Riker is now the captain of the Enterprise and performed the marriage ceremony for the newly promoted admirals on board the ship. Wesley is a senior cadet at the Academy. Robert and Rene are alive and well. Etc., etc., etc.
Though at times a bit naughty, there will be nothing graphic in language or deed.
STAR TREK is Paramount's property. I'm just playing in their playground for a while. All the usual disclaimers apply.
And please, if you feel so inclined, leave a review - good or bad. It's what encourages writers to keep on writing, if only to prove the negative reviewer is in error. Heaven knows, I turned a short story into a novel because people kept encouraging me. And their kind words have brought about my continuation of that alternate universe which is something that I don't think that I really would have done without those reviews.
The "Attached Meant" universe is rather different from my other A/U novels, THE BEST LAID PLANS and THE SKY'S THE LIMIT. These series of stories are also not connected to any of my other short TNG stories and novellas.
Unabashedly P/C. Future stories will involve the Enterprise, and Will's difficulties in adjusting to life as her captain. Worf's period of adjustment as a part time instructor at the Academy. Will and Deanna. Wesley graduating, and more.
DE-TACHED: LIFE WITH BEVERLY
CHAPTER ONE: It Takes Two To Tango
The tempo to the dance music shifted. Trying to appear to not have noticed the subtle change, Admiral Jean-Luc Picard continued to study the padd he held in his hand. Or at least, he was doing his best to appear to be studying the padd.
Beverly knew better. She didn't have to glance in his direction to know that her husband, seated at his side of their antique partner's desk, had been observing her exercise and dance routines. He always did, regardless of what he was pretending to be doing on his half of the desk whenever she chose to exercise in the large library that they both had chosen as their office cum retreat in the mansion that Jean-Luc had inherited from his Aunt Adele.
She loved this room. The burled wood panels, the parquetry floor, the leaded and stained glass doors and windows, and the shelves filled with the book collections of generations of bibliophiles always made her feel connected in many ways to her husband's past as well as to her own. This large room was her favorite in the entire mansion. It was also a room that was preserved closest to the house's original Arts and Crafts architectural styling.
There was a large open space by the fireplace for her exercises if she rolled up the Sarouk burgundy oriental rug that usually was placed in front of the fire place. She had noticed over the past few weeks that Jean-Luc had automatically rolled up the rug in the mornings, as if in anticipation of her doing aerobics some time during the day.
Her hidden smile grew as she contemplated that fact. Sometimes, if she was in a certain mood, she'd do her exercises or dance routines outdoors, on the broad balcony that flanked their library overlooking the gardens that Boothby had created and maintained for decades. But usually, she preferred not to be observed by prying eyes - other than by those belonging to her husband.
The music changed again. This time it was a tango.
Sighing, as if he were being disturbed by this, even though he knew that Beverly wasn't buying his act in the slightest, he put down his review of freshman class exobiology cadets, and looked over at his wife.
"Whatever Lola wants…Lola gets…and little man, lovely Lola wants you…", some unknown singer seductively sang.
He stood, drained the final drops out of his tea cup, placed the Limoges cup back on its saucer, and then stepped away from the desk. He dusted off imaginary croissant crumbs from his navy blue shirt and matching slacks.
"If you're not in the mood, Jean-Luc…", his loving wife teased.
"You know I'm always in the mood when you exercise, Beverly," he warned. For indeed he was. She was only wearing a tight silvered leotard with a cerise chiffon very short skirt. And grey silk stockings with matching cerise garters. In fact, Beverly rarely wore anything other than her leotard. She was a practical woman, his wife. For there were certain routines when her hips swayed, and certain desirous body parts jiggled, that would always put him in the mood…
He extended his hand.
She took it. And pulled him into the tango. "You really are improving," she breathily stated as they executed a difficult move quite precisely. "You're going to shock the hell out of Will Riker the next time we meet him at an admiralty function."
He froze. "Beverly, I will dance like this, with you, here in private. I will not dance like this in public." A finger strayed dangerously close to one of her garters as he slid down her body to the seductive rhythms of the tango.
"You've nothing to be ashamed of, Jean-Luc. You're really rather good, now." She had to concentrate on what she was saying since he was now palming a certain part of her anatomy that always readily responded to his caress.
"That isn't the point." He tried to ignore his bride's rising excitement.
She brushed aside a wayward strand of hair from her eyes. From the warm glow that she saw in his eyes, she thought she knew his source of perturbation. This time she let her grin become visible to him. "Jean-Luc, there is a difference between dancing the tango as lovers and dancing the tango at a diplomatic function."
He ruefully returned her smile. "True. My mind may know the difference, but I am not so sure that my flesh comprehends this distinction." He twirled her so that she ended up in a tight embrace against his body.
Her grin broadened. "Randy, are we?" She boldly eyed his body, delightedly noting the desired results of her exertions.
He deliberately glanced over her tight outfit. "How could I not be?" And then he eyed her garters in anticipation of removing them.
They danced some more for quite a few minutes.
Then she broke from their embrace and smiled again at him. Her sensuous smile bordered on the wicked. She walked over to the spiral iron staircase in the corner of the library that connected to their private bedroom suite on the floor above. She extended her hand toward him.
Without saying another word, he took it and trailed after Beverly as they climbed the staircase. He definitely appreciated following after Beverly. For he was an ass man after all…
"The things I do to get you to do some sort of exercise…," Beverly half-whispered to herself as she led him toward their bed. Soon, they were laughing together, in each other's arms.
=/\= =/\= =/\=
"Any idea where the Ads are," Mildred cheerfully asked, as she entered the formal home offices of Admiral Jean-Luc Picard that were located at the base of the Picard mansion.
Jean-Luc Picard had yet to formally assume command of the Academy hence his informal mornings at home. He had a few weeks left before the start of the second semester which was when Admiral Brand was expected to retire. In the mean time, he was attempting to review the file of every cadet and to at least learn all of the cadet's names before the start of the new semester. Admiral Brand usually saw him a few times during the week to bring him up to speed on everything from the protocols of the office to being introduced to the teaching staff.
Picard's personal assistant was Mildred Krebs who would join the staff at the superintendent's office when the time came. Mildred was an older woman of an indeterminate, well-preserved age. She always was professional in civilian business attire, even if her attitude wasn't. Being a distant relation to the Fleet Admiral, Winston Holt Wiley, had long inured her to the formal machinations of the Admiralty, especially since she'd spent decades dealing with the Federation and Starfleet bureaucracies. She'd learned long ago that irreverence was the best defense in dealing with bureaucrats or toadies.
Mildred Krebs had known Admiral Picard for decades. She'd become his private assistant when he'd first received command of the Enterprise and she had helped Jean-Luc pick his original crew. Refusing to actually go into space when the Enterprise was christened, Mildred returned to her retirement. Then when Beverly had been CMO for that short year, she'd worked for Beverly as well. A wise friend had advised that she help Beverly too. For both Jean-Luc and Beverly were friends of Guinan. And Mildred was also a loyal friend of that El Aurian lady.
Krebbie's first assistant, Ensign Cherry Ames-S'Rock, looked up from her view screen as Mildred went over to her French Provincial bureau plat desk. Mildred's assistant turned pink at the thought of answering her boss' question. Of course, being a natural born red-head, blushing was something that she did rather frequently.
Mildred raised an eyebrow. "Oh. They're busy this morning." She mightily sighed. "I suppose it would be too much to ask of Jean-Luc and Beverly to create a schedule for their spontaneous displays of affection." Mildred had quickly discovered within the first three hours after Jean-Luc and Beverly had moved into their home, that the automatic recording devices located in every room for security purposes, should be turned off the moment the admirals were alone. She had so ordered the programming change to the security system. The surveillance would only turn back on if a third person or persons entered whatever room in which the admirals might be.
"They're still in the honeymoon phase," Mildred observed. The newlweds had been busily 'christening' various rooms in their private quarters since they had moved in.
Aunt Adele's mansion had been used as an embassy for quite a few years before the Picards took it over. There were formal rooms for diplomatic functions not to mention a garden terrace large enough for a typical Admiralty to-do. There was a very large private section where Jean-Luc and Beverly had their suite, along with quite a few guest bedrooms, a small private dining room, a morning room, an exercise studio that Beverly would eventually turn into a dance studio, a great room, a small kitchen that was adjacent to the embassy-size kitchen, a still room, and the library that the admirals used as their study. Wesley had already claimed a guest suite at the opposite end of the house from where his mother's bedroom was located. There was even a personal transporter station. There were hot houses for flowers, an orangerie, and even a special hot house for orchids - Beverly's favorite flower - that Bootby had maintained for years. For when Picard had inherited the house, Boothby had offered to take care of the property for him. And Boothby had done so for many decades, even living in a caretaker's cottage on the property, near the beach and the stables. All of this - the house and the surrounding properties - were under constant observation by Starfleet security, with two guards on duty at all times. They tried to be as discreet as possible, even though the security of the admirals was paramount to Starfleet command. For there had been threats against Jean-Luc Picard going back for many years. And Mr. Worf and Mr. Data were not taking any chances when it came to the security of their friends. They were the ones that had designed the current system.
"A honeymoon - it can last for years," Cherry observed as she pinked again at the thought of her husband, even though she'd been married to another of Picard's former assistants for the past four years. They were still in the honeymoon stage. She'd met her husband Lieutenant Commander S'Rock, as an ensign. He'd been lured away by Mildred, from Admiral Nakamura's staff to help Jean-Luc Picard with his original choices for the Enterprise's crew. She had also worked with Tasha Yar in helping Picard make his decisions. After the Enterprise had left for Farpoint Station, for some reason, Ensign S'Rock kept in touch with Cherry through the years. A few years later, after Cherry had graduated from the Academy, she found herself married to the Vulcan. Perhaps it was their mutual appreciation of Starfleet bureaucracy that had brought them together. Whatever it was, Cherry was grateful, for she'd found her soul mate in S'Rock. Her husband was now part of Winston Holt Wiley's staff which she suspected was part of Mildred's master plan.
There were some who believed that Mildred Krebs could actually run Starfleet Command if she so wished to do so. There were some, like Cherry - and possibly Jean-Luc Picard - who actually suspected that Mildred might actually be doing so. She certainly was capable of it.