The BLTS Archive - Kerzoinky Blue: Baby Love by LoriP. (zakhad.ficsite@gmail.com) --- Jean-Luc Picard, former starship captain, currently the caretaker-in-chief of the drone rehabilitation project, tamped the moist dirt down around the base of a vine. He looked up at the sound of a shout from the house -- Beverly leaned out the door and waved. When he reached the door, puffing a little from the effort of climbing the slope at a jog, he saw that she scowled. "I thought you were going to take care of the furniture." He blinked. "It wasn't delivered yesterday?" "You didn't even notice," she said accusingly. "I could have this baby any day now, and there's nowhere to put her to bed." He studied the woman he'd married, the worry line around her eyes, the uncomfortable stance she was forced into by nine months of pregnancy, her hair in disarray and growing in red -- and grey, in a few places -- again. She'd stopped bothering with dying it at seven months. She swung her heavy body around and waddled away from him. "I can't do this," she exclaimed, forcing anger to cover the tears she didn't want to allow. "I don't know what made me think I could do this!" Pointing out the obvious -- that it was too late to think about not doing it -- wouldn't work. He'd tried that before. Deanna had said this was nothing but jitters and hormones talking, that Beverly would be fine once the baby made its appearance. Biting his tongue, Jean-Luc went to the comm unit to call about the missing furniture. It was her fault it was late; she'd put off picking what she wanted until last week. And why did it even matter what it looked like? They had returned to Labarre for the summer, as scheduled. With Gwaheer's support, he was able to carry on with his duties at the center remotely. The Ryxian had plenty of agents at his command to play messenger for them or to transport Jean-Luc as needed. Gwaheer didn't want to do it year round, didn't really want to do it all summer, but he understood why Jean-Luc wanted the baby to be born at home. So an endless cycle of Ryxi zipped back and forth when necessary, bearing messages once a day and taking Jean-Luc to *Jhegwa* once a week. Beverly's leave of absence would be covered by the other doctors at the center. When he turned off the comm unit and stood, a quiet cough from down the hall told him someone had come in the open front door and stood in the living room. He came out and stared at Deanna witlessly. "Poor Jean-Luc," she said, pushing her son over her shoulder and coming forward to hug him. "Nothing like a hormonal pregnant woman to make you crazy, is there?" He accepted the hug with the good grace he'd learned to show such gestures. Deanna's demeanor had changed after her resignation from Starfleet, and softened yet again after his. "Beverly will be glad to see you. I think. I know I am." She stood back, and Zerin's head popped up over her shoulder, his little pointed ears standing out from his head and his eyes wide. The Ryxian child had amazing dexterity for an infant; he could cling to his mother's neck with an arm, a leg, his tail, or any combination of them, shifting his grasp easily without falling. "I had Ka'zor drop me off. Gwaheer will be away for a few days, and Zakhad needs some time to herself. Do you mind if I stay for a week or so? I thought I could be of some use -- " "You know you don't have to ask. I'll prepare a room for you -- " "No, you don't. I'll do it. I'm not here for a vacation. Something told me you'd need the help. I'll just bring in my bag." She went upstairs with it, wearing her son like a backpack, and seconds after she disappeared a crash of shattering glass came from the kitchen. He ran, and Deanna thundered back downstairs, dropping her bag at the bottom and racing him for the kitchen. Beverly stood with her hands over her face, crying. Around her feet were the remains of Maman's favorite serving platter. Jean-Luc tried not to wince at the crunch under his shoes. Deanna gasped, and Zerin whimpered, not sure what was wrong but picking up his mother's alarm, no doubt. "Beverly, are you all right?" Her eyes traveled to the top of the china cabinet, where the platter had been. She'd visited them several times in the last month with her husband and knew the kitchen well enough, since she'd volunteered to do the cooking for Beverly while there. "Fine." Deanna didn't believe that tight-lipped exclamation any more than Jean-Luc did. She picked her way through the shards and put a hand on Beverly's shoulder. "How long have you been in labor?" The question sent Jean-Luc into panic. Deanna glared at him, stopping an exclamation of anger and frustration before it reached his lips. Beverly shoved both of them away from her and kicked her way through the glass. Pieces skittered away under the table and chairs, and she walked as though in pain through the door to the hall. They heard her heavy tread on the first, squeaky stair. "What's going on?" Deanna whispered. "Why are you so angry at each other?" "That's not the same woman I married!" Flushed at the thought of discussing it with anyone, but knowing that his former counselor and friend wouldn't back down until she'd pried it out of him, he tried to find the words. "Deanna, I don't understand what happened to her, or when exactly, but she's not herself. She can't make decisions, and she blames me for not knowing what to do -- I've never had to do this before. Starfleet Academy doesn't prepare you for this. Having a ship that's carrying families with children doesn't, either. It's like she suddenly decided to hate me, and she keeps insisting that she can't go through with having the baby. And hardly anything she says makes sense to me. For the past two weeks, she's flown into unpredictable rages for no reason I can discern." At least Deanna didn't seem amused by his predicament. She slapped Zerin's hand absently when he reached down for a piece of broken glass and looked at Jean-Luc, solemn and sympathetic as always. "She's afraid. This is her second child, but she's a doctor -- she knows everything that can go wrong, and it's been more than twenty years since Wesley. Was Jack with her when Wesley was born?" "He couldn't make it home in time. He made it the day after. Why?" "I'm just wondering if she didn't build up a greater expectation this time. Because you're able to be with her, she may have anticipated what she wanted but didn't get before. And she's obviously not getting it now, either. A good portion of her anger is frustration." "*What does she want?* She won't tell me -- what is it with women that they can't just tell you what they want, without all this dancing around it and waiting for you to guess?" Deanna did smile at that. "Who is your doctor? Or have you decided to have a midwife?" "Beverly rejected the ones here in the village. She -- " "I'm beginning to see why she's so angry," Deanna said, sounding a little frustrated herself. "How could you be a commanding officer for years, giving orders and -- never mind. I know. It's different when it's your wife. But Jean-Luc, what she needs right now is for you to take control of the situation for her. She's angry and getting angrier because she doesn't perceive your love and support. Get a doctor or a midwife, now. This probably happened -- " she pointed at the mess on the floor and slapped Zerin's hand again -- "because she grabbed the cabinet for support during a contraction. I nearly broke Zakhad's wrist when I had my first strong one. Beverly probably knew you would panic if she'd told you when they first began. Don't hold it against her, just work in the now, and show her some support. After you call a doctor. I'll go force her into bed if she's not there already -- but you come up as soon as you can, and whatever you do, don't take any verbal abuse seriously." "Yes, sir," he muttered crossly. "Just do it, Ensign." She hauled Zerin around to her chest by the arm and removed a shard from his hands. "And you're about to go in the brig, young man, if you don't quit that. Don't touch the broken glass." Throwing him over her shoulder and enduring the flapping of his tiny wings against the side of her head, she went after Beverly. Jean-Luc stood for a moment, then remembered his instructions. Doctor, then Beverly. God, he hated feeling like a green ensign again! He smiled cynically at Deanna's subtle way of helping him redefine this in terms he understood. Heading for the comm unit, he rehearsed so he wouldn't appear panicked while talking to the doctor. Deanna found him fifteen minutes later with his head in his hands. "Captain," she half-queried, half-chastised, using his old title to get his attention, no doubt. "There's been some sort of accident in the village -- " "And all the doctors are tied up? Call in a favor at Command and have someone transport in. Call one of Beverly's associates. Stop letting the panic overwhelm you. If I can handle this -- between the two of you, I feel like screaming myself! Come on!" She put a hand to her forehead. "I'm sorry. It's not so urgent now, Jean-Luc. She could be in labor for hours. But it's not an ideal situation -- I've never helped someone give birth, either, and I'm not a doctor, and Beverly's in no condition give instructions. Where is the nearest hospital?" "Other than the small medical center in the village, there's one twenty kilometers from Labarre, in Bourdeaux." He sighed. "You're not thinking of trying to move her? She won't leave -- " "I know. I asked, and she nearly snapped my head off. We'll have to find a doctor to come here. And if I'd known she would be this way, I would've left Zerin with Sakhara's wives." She moved suddenly to the living room from the door of the small study. "Can I help you?" Jean-Luc followed her. A Rxyian stood in the front door, holding a padd and wearing a rueful expression. "Delin?" "I'm sorry, sir, but -- " He held out the padd. Jean-Luc took it and scanned the text after pressing the translator button. "Damn." "What is it?" Deanna asked. He passed her the padd. When she finished reading, she looked at him, mutely questioning. "If I don't go, we might lose funding -- Gezin is one of the more important Council members. If we don't pay him some personal attention he'll be less inclined to speak favorably in chambers, and we can't afford that. When Halon was elected -- " "I know," Deanna said. "I'll go. I can give him a more pleasant tour of the facility than you, at this point, and I can put Zerin in the daycare center. Gezin may not like a mere counselor showing him around, but that's just too bad. Beverly does need you more than she needs me. Jean-Luc, you have to stop letting it overwhelm you. I can't teach you how -- just do it. Stop thinking about your feelings and do what you have to do to reassure her." She gestured at Delin and held out a hand. "Deanna -- " But the instant her hand met Delin's, she and her son and the aide from the center were gone in an eyeblink. "Damn, damn, damn. . . ." he chanted under his breath, returning to the study. He found the comm unit chiming an incoming call when he got there. Distracted, and allowing the distraction, just for a break from the tension, he tapped the controls. Will Riker's grinning face filled the small screen. "Jean-Luc -- " "Where are you?" Will did a double-take at the curt question. "We just got into McKinley. I know Beverly's about due, and Shady insisted it would be poor form to just send a subspace congratulations, when I still have some leave available -- " "Is Shehady with you?" "Sure. What's wrong?" "Just get here, dammit!" --- Shehady loved the Picard home the minute she saw it, through the last few sparkles of the transporter. It reminded her, just a little, of the larger houses back on Betazed, with mature trees shading it and cultivated fields nearby stretching to the horizon. But Will didn't give her a chance to appreciate it for more than a few seconds. "There's no reason to panic -- " "Jean-Luc Picard doesn't look that angry unless everything's gone to hell in a handbasket." "Or unless he feels like it has? Perception is nine-tenths -- " "Just stop analyzing and let's find out what's going on." Will dragged Shehady up the steps by the elbow and opened the front door without knocking. "Hello?" They got no answer, and Will did a quick survey of the premises, leaving her standing in the living room to look at the quaint old furniture. Really spartan, this house. Very homey. Down to earth -- which was true any way you took it, since it was on Earth. . . . Will returned holding a bag. "This is Deanna's -- got one of her hair doodads in the side pocket. Someone's busted a big platter in the kitchen." He tossed the bag in an armchair. The quiet of the house was ended by a long stream of curses -- Shehady was shocked. Beverly's voice, but distorted beyond belief. Only labor would do that to a normally-rational woman. "Sounds like a job for a doctor," Shehady said. "Why don't you make us some coffee or something, and I'll see what's up." Will pointed at some stairs as he headed down the hall, presumably toward the kitchen. "I didn't know she could swear in Klingon," he commented wryly. "Be careful. She sounds angry." Shehady pulled her medkit off her shoulder and opened it on the way up the narrow, creaking stairs. Following the sound of a murmuring male voice, she found what she'd expected in one of the bedrooms -- Beverly, looking completely unlike her usual poised self, and Jean-Luc sitting on the edge of the bed trying to reassure her. He stroked her face as she lay on the bed, eyes closed, a sheen of sweat across her forehead. At the sound of the tricorder, her blue eyes flew open. "I can't do this," she said airlessly, shifting her body as if searching for a comfortable position in spite of knowing she wouldn't find one. Shehady glanced around the room. This wasn't the ideal place to have a child, but it wasn't her right to question the choices of others. "Beverly, how far apart are they?" Instead of answering, Beverly panted and closed her eyes. Shehady shook her head and looked at the tricorder readings. "All right, I can see she's going to make this difficult. Jean-Luc, you have more pillows somewhere -- get 'em. And we'll need something to keep her from soaking the bed." She paid closer attention to the stricken look on his face. "Look, this isn't so serious as all that, really. It's a tough thing for you to comprehend, but the hard part's past you now. The waiting is over. Just get the pillows. Will's making coffee and cleaning up the kitchen. We can help you through this. Move." He moved from the room like a robot. Shaking her head, Shehady took his place at Beverly's side and took her hand. "Sweetie, do you get what's happening here? He's terrified. Don't take it personally, okay? Relax. You've got every muscle in your body stiff as stone, and you can't do that and have the baby." The expected tears came. Beverly's face crinkled into anguish. "I've been so unfair to him," she sobbed. "I'm so scared -- damn stupid of me to be this afraid! I know better, I know he's not really prepared for any of this -- that's my fault, too." "Where's Deanna?" "She was here -- Jean-Luc said she had to go somewhere." Beverly shoved with her feet against the bunched covers at the foot of the bed. "I can't -- it hurts, it makes it hard to think." "What hurts?" "My back." Shehady put out a few items she thought she'd need on the bedside table. The hypospray and its friend the tricorder looked decidedly out of place on the old wood surface. "I can give you something to take the edge off the pain, or I can give you a partial block, or I can just numb you up completely. You know the drill." When she turned back to Beverly, she found a completely different expression on her face. The slight confusion and disoriented fear were gone. Now she looked determined and angry, her head pressed back into the pillow, and she mumbled something that Shehady leaned forward to catch. Surprisingly -- or maybe not so surprisingly -- she was muttering a prescription and dosage. Shehady pressed her lips together to hide amusement and rolled Beverly slightly to administer the requested painkiller directly into the muscles in the small of her back, through the thin nightgown she wore. "That takes care of the back pain. Thirsty?" Her eyes were tracking now, Shehady noticed. Beverly nodded. "I'll get some water. Need help with panties?" Shehady glanced at her bare feet. "Never put them on," Beverly whispered. Shehady stared at her. "Bev, just how long have you been having contractions? And why didn't you tell your husband to begin with? Where's your doctor?" "I'm fine." But her certainty waned. "Am I?" "The baby's fine, you're doing well enough, but you're not doing yourself any favors. What the -- " Shehady struggled to not express her dismay at this situation. A doctor should know better than this. But of course, doctors were always the worse kind of patient. And Jean-Luc had learned to always trust Beverly's judgement when she was his chief medical officer, and would have gone along with everything -- "Beverly," she began again, reverting to her formal, gentle bedside manner. Where was Jean-Luc with those pillows? "You're going to be fine. The baby will be fine. You're dilating slowly, and I can tell you've probably got a couple hours left, at least." "How many babies have you delivered?" Shehady grinned. "I interned in an obstetrics ward. Betazoids love kids, too, so I was busy catching 'em as fast as I could. But they're poor patients, and fathers tend to go a little nuts when they can feel the mother's pain. Believe me, Jean-Luc's nothing. The near-catatonic fathers are a blessing. It's the ones that run up and down the halls shouting that get scary." "Shehady," she moaned. Her Adam's apple bobbed as she swallowed; shoving herself up with her arms, Beverly propped her shoulders against the headboard and looked at her. "Can I tell you something? A secret? You won't repeat it?" "I recite the Hippocratic Oath every morning before putting on my makeup. Well -- not exactly, but the Betazoid equivalent. No loose lips here." Beverly closed her eyes and clenched her body in that so-familiar way. Shehady let her have her hands to yank and squeeze, and knew, but only from experience, that Beverly wouldn't be able to break her fingers. Thank goodness it was a short one. Beverly went through it with remarkable forbearance, considering her earlier swearing practice. To distract herself, Shehady calculated how long she'd been sitting there talking to her, to gauge time between contractions. Beverly fell back and panted for a few seconds, then looked at Shehady through barely-parted eyelids. "I hate Jean-Luc Picard." Shehady patted her arm. "That's all right." Beverly smiled. "I knew you'd understand." --- "You sure you're all right?" "Fine. Stop asking me that." "Stop pacing like a cornered -- " Jean-Luc rounded on him with a fierce glare, and Will shut up. The kitchen was a dangerous place to confront angry people -- too many sharp or heavy implements in easy reach. And he couldn't guess what might happen next with his former commanding officer. Jean-Luc was in a completely different arena now, with no crew of experts at his beck and call to work toward solutions. There wasn't even really a problem. Childbirth was obviously what they'd wanted, and the only difficulty Will could perceive was that neither Jean-Luc or Beverly had anticipated the emotional adjustment they'd have to make. Knowing Jean-Luc, he'd gone into it with the memory of his deceased nephew in mind. He hadn't been around to see Rene's birth or infancy; he'd only known the child. That there were some messy, unpleasant beginnings to any childhood hadn't entered his mind. As captain, he could always bail out of sickbay before the real work started. Will watched Jean-Luc resume pacing in a circle around the table and chairs, often running his hand over his bald head as if smoothing hair he'd forgotten he lacked. "Want some -- well, maybe coffee isn't such a good idea. Warm milk?" "Shut up, dammit! It's bad enough I get thrown out, I have to listen to you playing mother hen," Jean-Luc growled. "Just like old times. As long as you don't cluck at me again." Will crossed his arms and leaned against the counter. "So what did you do that made Shehady throw you out?" "I'd rather not talk about that. Wipe that smirk off your face! This isn't funny." "I know. Are these the same pots and pans your mother used?" Will pointed at the rack suspended from the ceiling, and the worn pots dangling from it. "Yes. And most everything else in the kitchen is that old, too, just to save you the trouble. You don't have to distract me, Will. I'm sorry, I just don't know what else to do, how to feel -- " "I was trying to distract *me,* for your information. I'm really dying to ask how Beverly managed to keep you in the dark about those contractions all day. And how you didn't notice when her water broke." "She shooed me out the door after breakfast. This was the first day in two weeks we didn't start out with an argument, and I didn't want to go against her and cause one." Jean-Luc sank into a chair and pressed the heels of his hands against his forehead. "Do you know how damnably difficult it is, to deny her anything she wants? Deanna chided me for not taking charge -- I suppose she's right. I should have. But I just didn't want to argue any more. All I really want is to get back to the happy part, where we're having a baby and Beverly smiles most of the time." A knocking on the front door echoed down the hall to them. "I'll go." Will slapped Jean-Luc on the shoulder on his way past him, and ambled out, quickening his steps when more hammering ensued. "Coming, already!" He didn't know who to expect -- another of the old crew, not Data, the android was commanding the *Rampage* in Will's absence, but possibly Worf or Geordi. Possibly even one of Jean-Luc's friends from the admiralty. It might have been any number of well-wishers, really -- but Will could never have guessed it would be the woman who stood impatiently on the porch, arms crossed, practically tapping her toe. "Vash?!" One manicured eyebrow rose. "Riker? Don't tell me Jean-Luc's gone and given you the vineyard!" She pushed past him, looking around. "Can you tell me where the hell he is? I've been looking everywhere -- some recently-promoted twit threw me off the *Enterprise,* and no one's told me one useful thing. I finally tracked down where Labarre was, and it took forever to find out where this place was -- you'd think it was some big secret. Is it true he's not in Starfleet any more?" "He's married, and yes, he's no longer in Starfleet." "Not in a million years is he married," Vash exclaimed. "You're just making that up. What right do you have to try to -- " "He's right," Jean-Luc said, coming around the corner. Vash sized him up briefly. "Don't *you* just look like you've been in a war?" "What are you doing here? Keep your voice down," Jean-Luc said. "I was hoping you would tell me what *you're* doing here. You aren't the quitting type." She sauntered over and straightened the lapel of his simple white shirt, running a finger down his chest. He grabbed her hand and pulled it away. Footsteps on the stairs. Vash turned to look as Shehady appeared and froze, staring at the newcomer. "Oh, well, isn't this fun? The little woman," Vash purred. Shehady glanced at Will. Shehady tossed her pale hair out of her face, crossed her arms, and leaned against the wall, blocking the staircase. "You must be Vash. Too bad you can't stay, but we have a house policy -- one old flame per day, and Beverly's upstairs. So long, don't let the door hit your nice little behind on the way out." "Now, wait just a minute." "Out!" Shehady made shooing gestures with both hands. "Nothing personal, dear, but -- " "I'm just an old friend," Vash said. "You don't have anything to worry about. Your husband's a big boy -- " "Gee, thanks, but I'm not married. I'm with the rakish bearded fellow near the door." "You're Betazoid, aren't you?" Vash took a step in Shehady's direction. "Go ahead, read my mind!" "Vash," Jean-Luc said quietly. "Please leave." She looked at him. Will couldn't see her face. Jean-Luc stared her down, unwavering, standing with his hands at his sides and no visible ire. In the silence, a faint wail came from upstairs; Shehady turned and skipped back up three steps at a time. Will pulled the door wide open. "Come on, Vash." "What's going on here? If she's not -- it's Beverly, isn't it? You sly dog, you! No wonder you left Starfleet. No more conflict of interest, or fraternizing with subordinates, or whatever. I'd like to drink a toast to the happy couple -- " "OUT!" Picard roared. Vash stared at him, backing away, chin dropped. "Honestly, what a way to -- " "Go upstairs, Jean-Luc," Will said. "I'll take care of this. Hoof it." He went without hesitation, hitting fewer stairs than Shehady had. Vash nearly went after him. Will dashed forward and caught her by the shoulders, swinging her around and aiming her at the door. "Riker, this isn't -- " "I'm not going to argue with you. You're out. If I have to walk you back to the village, I will." From upstairs, the weak squall of a newborn. Vash wrenched out of his grasp and laughed. "Oh, I don't believe this! No wonder he's acting so funny! My God, Jean-Luc Picard's a daddy!" Deanna appeared in the door. "What's *she* doing here?" "It's old girlfriends day at the Picard estate, didn't you know?" Vash crowed. Deanna frowned, then in a spurt of ferocity grabbed Vash's arm and yanked her straight into the arms of Gwaheer's brother, Ka'zor, as he stepped into the doorway. "This is Vash, an old acquaintance of Jean-Luc's," Deanna said. "Could you please take her -- oh, I don't know, to the moon?" Ka'zor looked at Vash and raised an eyebrow. "I take it she isn't welcome here." "You could say that," Will said. "Be careful -- I hear she can be pretty devious. Nothing personal, Vash. Really." "What the hell are you?" Vash blurted as Ka'zor's hand fell on her shoulder. Abruptly, they weren't there. Will closed the door. "We have a baby Picard," he said, running for the stairs. "In spite of everything," Deanna replied, close on his heels. She managed to worm past him and get into the room ahead of him. She made him stand waiting in the hall, closing the door behind her. Shehady's voice, muted by the wall, indistinctly ordered someone to do something. When the door finally opened again, Shehady and Deanna came out, carrying bundles of bedclothes. "Downstairs, Will. Leave 'em alone," Shehady ordered. "You'll get to hold little miss Picard later." "Is everything all right?" "It is now," Deanna said with a sigh. "I don't think they'll be arguing again, at least not for no good reason." --- Jean-Luc took another sip of wine. He considered getting a refill, but that would mean opening a fourth bottle of vintage Chateau Picard, so he put the glass carefully on the porch at his feet and leaned back, letting his shifting weight sway the swing again. He'd put this swing up for Beverly two months before, so they could sit outside looking at the moon and stars. They hadn't done that the last three weeks, but after the series of tense situations that day, it felt good to sit there alone in the dark. Crickets provided a constant accompaniment for him. In the distance, the faint light of the village on the horizon; beyond that, rising slowly, the three-quarters moon. He sighed. Letting his head fall back, he closed his eyes and let the last vestiges of tension ebb. The well-wishers hadn't been limited to Will and Shehady. Yesterday, there'd been a flurry of calls; the calls had begun again that afternoon, but he'd set the comm to message only. Then people had started to show up, wondering what was wrong that no one answered calls. The house turned into a zoo of people -- admirals, people from the village, furniture delivery men, and Vash again. Ka'zor had only taken her to San Francisco. With so many others around, she behaved better the second time. If he hadn't been so exhausted and fuzz-brained, Jean-Luc might have been amused by the way Deanna and Shehady ran interference, protecting Beverly and Jean-Luc from her direct attention. The door opened. Jean-Luc left his eyes closed; it was probably Deanna, being motherly again. She'd been the only one to remain at the estate, in the end -- Will and Shehady had gone off to find a room in the village. The swing sagged a little and swayed as she sat next to him. He was shocked when her head found his shoulder, and an arm went round him. Then he realized from the smell and texture of her hair on his cheek that it was Beverly. The last time he'd seen her, she'd fallen asleep again, curled up in bed and tucked in by Mother Deanna. Putting his arms around her without questioning the good fortune that had brought her there, he kissed her forehead. "I'm sorry, Beverly." She made a noise that sounded like half a tired giggle. "You did your best with a shrieking wife. I owe you the apology. I've been terrible to you, and you really didn't know what to do with me." "Don't start. Please." She ended up curled up in his lap, eventually, as they sat swinging gently with the night breeze coming off the vineyard. He tucked her robe around her more closely and stroked her hair, letting strands curl around his fingers. Both of them tensed when sputtering crying drifted down from inside the house. "Deanna will get her," Beverly murmured. "She threatened me if I tried. She said I need rest, and the only thing she'd let me do other than sleep was come out here and be with you." "I'm feeling a little guilty we didn't go see her when she had Zerin, now. She's been a big help. So have Will and Shehady -- you should have seen Shehady when Vash was here the first time. Priceless." He laughed. Beverly touched his face. "I don't remember the last time I heard you laugh. I missed that. I missed us -- oh, what happened to us, Jean-Luc? I was so afraid, and I thought such terrible things about you." "If you're going to cry, you'll make me cry, too." He pressed his cheek against her hair. "I've never seen anything like our daughter. Never felt that way before in my life -- I thought I'd lost the ability to feel that kind of wonder and joy. It was like the day I received my first command, only ten times better. It was like -- " "Having a baby," she whispered. "I forgot, too, almost. Wesley was so long ago, and he's been gone for years -- Jean-Luc, I felt so guilty! My son isn't here to see his sister. I don't know where he is, even. Every time I got excited about Felisa, I'd think of Wesley not being here. Oh, I wish Gwaheer had been able to find him!" "Gwaheer can't do everything. We didn't give him much to go on -- we don't even know where he was two years ago when we received that message from him. You can't blame yourself for Wesley's absence." She clutched the front of his shirt and pressed her nose into his neck. "I know, but my heart has a hard time with it. He's my son. I can't help it. Sometimes I miss him so much -- I remember when he was a little boy, and it tears me up inside. He's all I have left of -- " "Jack," he finished for her when she choked on the name. "I know. He's all I really have left of Jack, too. The last time we saw him, he looked so much like his father." "I'll always feel this connection to him, no matter how long he's gone -- " "Beverly, I understand it. Finally, I truly understand what you mean when you say that." She cried a little, but snuggled up closer and eventually stopped. The door opened again. "How are we doing?" Deanna asked, stepping out and letting the door close. "That is, would you like anything to drink, before I turn in for the night? I can tell how you're doing." "I think we're fine, thank you. And thank you for being here. I know you find it difficult to be away from Zerin," Jean-Luc said. "It's a blessing, in a way. He can be very demanding. Felisa is easier to catch." Beverly chuckled quietly. "I can't imagine what you must go through. I know how hard a human baby can be -- caring for a little dynamo like Zerin would wear me out in a day." "I think we women do have selective memory when it comes to childbearing." Deanna stepped closer, hugging herself, her robe brushing the floorboards. "Zerin's tame, compared to what he was just a few months ago. He's already understanding what I tell him. Not that he always obeys, but he can be such a little angel. I'm already thinking of having another." "You're kidding." "Oh, I'll bet you'll be thinking of it yourself, in a year or so. You're a good mother, Beverly. Stop doubting yourself." Deanna went to lean against the post at the top of the steps. "It's such a beautiful night. Look at that moon." They sat a while longer in silence, listening to the crickets. Jean-Luc noticed Deanna's head drop forward a little more. "Deanna, what's wrong?" She glanced back in surprise. "Nothing. Just an odd turn of mood." "You're crying, aren't you?" Beverly asked. "Homesick?" "Not exactly. After all the joy today -- it just reminds me of the day after Zerin was born. Which reminds me of Gwaheer, which makes me miss him more." "The day after?" Deanna sniffed. "Yes, the day after. Jean-Luc was merely petrified -- Gwaheer was a nuisance. Zakhad had to tranquilize him. And she had to call in his brothers to keep people at bay. The house was a mess because Tormal, with all his good intentions, tried to cook us dinner and let his nieces and nephews help him. There were handprints on all the walls, and the mothers weren't paying attention because they kept coming in and out of the room where I was, and it took twenty hours of labor to finally have Zerin. When he was cleaned up and we were settled, Zakhad discovered what had been going on all that time and went on a rampage -- she nearly burned my ears off, and I didn't understand a word of what she said. She threw every last one of them out of the house, even the ones that had been of some help. And then she threw a handful of media people into the canyon, followed shortly by their equipment -- they survived, of course, but the equipment didn't. And after all that, she realized she'd left poor Gwaheer unconscious the whole time." "You never told me that," Beverly exclaimed. "Because you were a month along, and I didn't think horror stories of giving birth were appropriate." Jean-Luc hugged Beverly tighter. "The twenty hours of labor would have been the worst of it. Gwaheer's relatives aren't much of a concern to us, thank God." Deanna sighed and turned her face up to the heavens. Another cricket-filled pause stretched between them. Jean-Luc heard something quiet, almost drowned out by the crickets, and realized Deanna was humming; she must have sensed his curiosity because she started to sing. "Down in the valley, valley so low, hang your head over, hear the wind blow. . . ." And from the darkness, as her voice trailed away and she stepped away from the post, suddenly alert, a footstep. Followed by Gwaheer's voice. "Hear the wind blow, love, hear the wind blow." "Did you find him?" Deanna's question was almost not a question. She sounded too triumphant -- he wouldn't be there if he hadn't accomplished what he'd set out to do. "Mom?" Beverly started to get up, faltered, and Jean-Luc picked her up as he stood then put her on her feet. He hovered behind her just in case. Deanna left the porch first, meeting the winged shadow that was her husband on the bottom stair. Wesley tentatively stepped past them; Beverly laughed and threw her arms around his neck, losing her balance in her forward rush. "Guess I've got to keep in touch better," Wesley said. "Gwaheer said you were pregnant?" "I was, until a few hours ago. Come inside so I can get a better look at you." They left the porch to the bugs and the starlight. Jean-Luc opened that bottle of wine he'd hoped to leave for their second wedding anniversary while Beverly, then Deanna, exclaimed over how different Wesley looked. He gave Gwaheer a glass first since the Ryxian stood by quietly. "Thank you for finding him. Beverly worries about him." "Thank Deanna. I couldn't take her incessant worrying about Beverly." Gwaheer smiled and looked at his glass. "Parenthood isn't easy. Especially letting them go -- you always want to see them grow and become independent, but once they're gone, you want them back again, to relive all the happy moments you had together." Jean-Luc watched Beverly smoothing Wesley's shirt, as if she had to continually reassure herself he was real. "Want to see Felisa?" Gwaheer's eyes laughed. "I would be honored to meet your daughter." Jean-Luc hesitated, glancing at Deanna, a sudden thought causing his eyes to narrow. "As long as you promise me you won't marry her when she grows up." "Don't be ridiculous." Jean-Luc put down his glass and the bottle of wine and led the way upstairs. Felisa was awake, but yawning. He picked her up carefully. Reluctantly, he passed her to Gwaheer, who seemed perfectly familiar with how to hold a baby -- he babysat for Lwaxana, so of course he would know how. "By the time she's old enough, Zerin -- " "Don't *even* suggest it." --- The End