The BLTS Archive - Simul Prorsum
fourth in the Acceptable Risk series
by Opal (opalesse@gmail.com)

---

Saying goodbye to Will and Deanna is bittersweet, and Jean-Luc finds
himself looking back at Deep Space 9 as if that will let him get
another glimpse at his former first officer and counselor. The
Enterprise is still undergoing a refit on Deep Space 9, something that
gave Beverly and himself just enough time to assemble their families
and have a simple wedding.

Will and Deanna bid them goodbye right before they left the station.
Will's been offered Voyager and Deanna wants to be with him. Jean-Luc
understands that choice, more than he could have just half a year ago.
His new first officer, Kathryn Janeway, has arrived and life is
continuing. The Enterprise just won't be the same without them.

His wife (he can't stop thinking of Beverly that way) is even more
effected than he is. Her tears are still rolling slowly down her face
but she smiles when she looks at him. This is their time, he reminds
himself. A honeymoon, even just a few stolen days, is an indulgence he
wants to take full advantage of.

Kissing her cheeks tastes like salt, and Jean-Luc adopts a grimace to
earn a laugh. Beverly's fingers dig tightly into his arm as he sets
the autopilot and turns in his chair to face her. Her knees are up and
one arm is wrapped around them; even five months pregnant, she looks
so small.

"I'll miss them too," he assures her, watching her in profile.

Jean-Luc spins her chair to get a better view of her face and kisses
her chin. He follows her tears up and passes them to her forehead.
"It'll take two hours to reach Bajor," he promises, lifting her hand
from his arm and holding it. Touching her wedding ring, he smiles at
her over the simple latinum band. "Not tired?"

Beverly moves her feet, shifting so they are beneath her. She kisses
him on the lips, nearly entering his mouth before she pulls away.
"No," she promises, and her smile becomes suggestive with a curl of
her lips.

"Come here," he says, guiding her into his lap. One of the perks of
the captain's yacht is the most comfortable chairs in Starfleet.
Beverly straddles his lap and he runs his hands over her stomach
before settling them on her hips. They haven't changed much, even as
their child grows within her; her hips feel firm and muscular.

Kissing him again, she holds the back of his head as she kisses him
deeply. Beverly's tongue conquers his mouth as much as she's already
overtaken his soul. His hands leave her hips and run up her back.
Beverly sighs into his touch, rolling her head back as she shifts in
his lap.

"I've wanted you since you picked me up at my quarters," she groans
and grinds her hips across his. When she tilts her head back, she's
biting her lip. Her fingers dig into his arms and he slips one hand
between them and caresses her enough to make her whimper.

"All that kissing. . ." She shakes her head and he remembers the spoons
banging against glasses that insisted they kiss all through the
reception.

Jean-Luc touches her lips with his thumb. "I can never get enough of
kissing you," he murmurs, then runs his hand down her chest. He
reaches for the catch of her uniform jacket and starts pulling it
free. The little zipper inside begins to loosen and he slips his hands
into the soft lining of her uniform. He cups one breast with his hand,
squeezing it against her chest.

"Is that why you married me?" she teases, sighing into his neck. "To
kiss me?"

"I got that before we were married," he retorts playfully, letting her
strip off his uniform jacket. She kneads her fingers into his arm and
rocks her hips back and forth again. The pressure of her makes him
start to harden, and the heat of her makes him keenly aware of his
need. Removing her jacket, he kisses her collarbone, then the base of
her neck.

Beverly groans and reaches for his trousers. "I don't have the
patience," she complains, kissing him hard and desperately. "I want
you."

He drags her tank top up off her shoulders, exposing the soft skin
beneath. Everything is bare and pale except for her bra. Jean-Luc runs
his fingers down her side and stops, surprised by the roughness of her
skin.

"Beverly?" he asks, lifting her from the line of kisses she is leaving
on his neck. "Computer, lights to full intensity," he requests,
holding her shoulder.

"Did you see this?" he asks, rubbing his fingers along the edge of a
patch of skin. A thin, faintly greenish rash covers her skin in long
trails, as if someone had painted it on with their fingertips from her
shoulder to her waist.

"No," she looks at her skin in surprise. Beverly touches it then slips
off his lap with a long sigh. "Doesn't look life threatening," she
promises him with a quirked eyebrow. Stepping out of her trousers, she
turns around and asks him, "Anything on my legs?"

Jean-Luc caresses the back of her knee, then runs his hands up the
naked skin of her inner thigh. The strange rash, whatever it is, feels
rough beneath his fingers. He parts her legs a little more, and
follows the fingertip pattern on her skin. "You didn't feel anything?"

"No," Beverly shrugs, opening up a medkit. Running a tricorder over
her body, she frowns. "It's an allergic reaction," she says, puzzled.
"Must be those Cardassian sheets."

Jean-Luc leaves his chair, feeling the tightness of his trousers start
to fade as his concern wins out. "I didn't know you were allergic to
anything," he says, slipping his hands around her belly.

"I'm not," Beverly turns around and nuzzles him. "Looks like it's the
baby," she explains, showing him the tricorder. "See?" She indicates a
chart on the bottom. "Her histamine count is a little high. She's
experiencing some kind of reaction to anaphasic energy. She's fine,"
she promises him, kissing his cheek to reassure him. "Don't know when
I got exposed to anaphasic energy. That usually needs an organic host.
Could be some kind of parasitic infection but if I had it, my reaction
would be much more severe." She stares off towards the front of the
yacht for a moment, trying to piece it together in her head.

"Anaphasic energy is rare," he says, taking the tricorder from her
hands to peer at the baby. Watching his daughter move in the tiny blue
image calms him and he relaxes against her. "As long as she's all
right," he decides, the idea of making love slipping from his mind.

"Don't give up," she orders him, turning and undoing the button on the
top of his trousers. "This will just take a minute. You can even help
me with the dermal regenerator." Beverly presses it into his hands and
lifts up one bare leg to balance it against one of the consoles. As he
heals the imperfections marring her skin, she works with the medkit
and then shoots herself twice with a hypospray.

"Explains the nausea from this morning," she says, checking herself
with the tricorder again before she put it away. "I knew I was done
with morning sickness."

"Oh?" he wonders aloud, finishing one leg and moving to the other.
Running his hand over her smooth skin after the dermal regenerator, he
cups her hip and moves on to her stomach. "You're sure it's not
morning sickness?" Reaching for the clasp of her bra, Jean-Luc
releases her breasts. Dropping the garment to the floor, he sees how
far the rash has spread and frowns.

"No," Beverly sighs and turns to him, arms on his shoulders. "It's
basic biology, if the baby's immune system gets upset, my stomach gets
upset. If she reacts to anaphasic energy, I feel like my head's going
to explode."

"So we're blaming her?" he teases, running the dermal regenerator up
over her breast. It looks as if the rash had been left by someone
touching it and for a moment, however insanely, the thought brings a
pang of jealousy.

"Might as well," she answers, taking the dermal regenerator from his
hands and setting it aside. "She's caused plenty of trouble for us so
far and she's not even born yet. Wait until she's walking, or
reading-"

"Or dating boys-" he adds with a shake of his head.

"Or girls-" Beverly corrects with a wicked smile.

Jean-Luc pauses on that thought a moment, and sighs. "I hadn't-" he
lets the thought go and wonders how many other things he'll have never
thought of. "Either way, she'll be a menace, considering how beautiful
her mother is."

Smiling sweetly at the compliment, Beverly purses her lips then
reaches for his trousers. "Where were we?" she asks him thoughtfully.
"One of us is overdressed."

"So it would appear." He raises an eyebrow and lets her strip his
clothing. Dragging her back to his chair, he eases her out of her
panties. Beverly's hands made quick work of his shorts and she climbs
naked onto his lap.

"This is better," she murmurs, nuzzling her way down his neck. Her
hand touches his penis, caressing the shaft. Jean-Luc kisses her
breast, taking a moment to suck her nipple before he reaches down
across her stomach.

Beverly rocks over his thigh, rubbing herself against him. His fingers
touch her clitoris, making her sigh before he moves his hand back up
to her stomach. His hand needs to arc outward to follow the rounding
of her belly. With the rash gone, her skin is again perfect and
running his hands over it is a singular pleasure. Everything, from the
tiny hairs along her arms to the curves of her hips, feels incredible
beneath his palms.

She hurries, slipping her hand up and down the shaft of his penis
until it is hard and full. Beverly shifts her hips, moving the
alignment of their bodies that much closer. She takes hold of him
again, and slowly guides him in. Watching her eyes shift when he
enters her, Jean-Luc realizes how precious this moment is. It is
something only he sees, something unique.

As she rises a little, she changes the angle and then rocks to pull
him deeper. The heat of her around him and the way her legs move over
his is intoxicating. It is rare that he gets to relinquish control and
she loves taking it from him. Knowing her complaints about the weight
and tenderness of her breasts, he is careful to keep them against his
chest. When she leans back, he follows her breasts with his left hand,
still wanting to touch them.

Beverly moves him in and out, urging him to thrust up when she needs
him. Keeping pace with her, he brings her back, crushing her to his
chest. Feeling his skin against hers, he lets go and lets her choose
the speed. She rides him up and down; he cheats, bringing his hips up
to meet her. Slipping his hand down her belly, he slips his fingers in
place to rub against her clitoris.

The rhythm of her motion becomes chaotic, even desperate, and he's
holding his hand steady against her lower back. Her head rolls back
and then forward to rest on his shoulder. Her breath hisses raggedly,
then she gasps and shivers from her orgasm. The shaking of her body
against his and the knowledge of how vulnerable they are together runs
through him with his own release.

Slumped against him, Beverly sighs and kisses his neck. He chases the
sweat on her back with his fingers and holds her when she tries to
leave his lap.

"You want to try the bed?" she whispers across his ear.

"Are you still going to be on top?" he jokes, letting her up and then
standing to hug her close.

Beverly looks down at her belly then back at him thoughtfully. "I
think you have a few weeks where you can still be on top," she says,
kissing his cheek and heading towards the rear of the cabin. A towel
hits him playfully in the face as he follows, staring at her legs.

---

He has known this was coming. It is an inevitable problem of his state
of being that his vessels, no matter how he loves them and wills them
to join him in immortality, are mortal. When Felisa's breath falters
and stills he retreats to the candle. He doesn't have much time. The
candle is confining, a poor shell compared to a woman.

He slips out when he has the strength. Felisa's body is still and
cooling. Her white hair is soft against the pillow, her eyes open but
lifeless; her heart, which had beat so long for both of them, is
still. He can no longer use her body to support himself and he shivers
from the cold. He will miss her; she has been a good host and he loved
her.

His love never keeps them alive and he regrets that. It would be so
much easier if one of them were fully compatible and they could merge
completely. Felisa was close. He had such hopes for her. She lived
much longer than he expected once he found the weakness in her brain.
He was unable to fix it. It was tragic, of course, but unavoidable.
They might not have been able to heal the weak blood vessel anyway if
he had made her aware of it. Human bodies are so imperfect, so
fragile; it is a shame they are so useful as hosts to him.

Now he needs another. Ronin expected to be on Caldos when Felisa died.
The humans there were few, and he would have been careful to cultivate
a new host. He expected her, the granddaughter, to come and be his
host. Though she is here on this station, there is a complication
growing within her. He has never taken a host while pregnant, and it
appears it is not possible.

The child is incompatible; her nausea and the rash his touch left on
her skin proved that. Barring removing the child as a complication,
something messy and more dangerous to the potential host than he
likes, the granddaughter is unacceptable.

That leaves him looking for a new host on the great metal circle.
There are many minds here, many potential bodies. He much prefers a
body. Being with someone is better, more mobile than technology, and
he likes love. Love is pleasant. He can make them happy and they want
him. If he is gentle, they want him more.

Someone will love him. There is a body out there that will be
compatible with him and he will leave the cold, boring conduits
behind. Slipping out into the dark, he approaches the bed and her
sleeping form. His potential host is asleep and dreaming. Her dreams
are quiet, even peaceful, and it will be easy to shift them towards
something more interesting.

---

She tugs on her uniform collar - maybe a piece of hair has fallen down
her back. Nerys bites her lip and tries to sit up straight. Fidgeting
during a staff meeting is hardly becoming of the first officer. She
just can't help it.

The slight itching that crept up on her ever since she'd gotten out of
the sonic shower has moved from nagging to consuming. It is like fire
beetles have gotten into her uniform. When she tugs on her sleeve,
Sisko starts watching her. When she nearly jumps out of her chair, she
has everyone's attention.

"You all right, Major?" O'Brien asks, clinging to his coffee cup as if
she might knock it over.

"I'm sorry," she stammers, meeting the eyes of her colleagues in quick
succession. "I itch."

"Itch?" Bashir repeats, leaving his chair and circling the table to
pull back her sleeve. A host of bright red welts runs up her arm as
far as he could push her sleeve. "Just your arm?" he asks before he
looks down her collar. "Let's get you to the infirmary. It looks like
some kind of extreme allergic reaction."

"You upset someone in the laundry, Major?" Sisko teases
sympathetically.

"I don't know." Nerys shakes her head and tries not to scratch at her
arms. Digging in her nails until she bleeds might not help the problem
but it is becoming hard to restrain herself.

In the lift, Bashir takes hold of her wrists. "You'll just make it
worse."

"I know," she sighs, biting her lip as she balls her hands into fists.
"It just itches."

"Do you have any allergies?" he asks, trying to distract her.
"Insects, chemical compounds, perfume, dyes-"

"No," she shakes her head sharply. "No, I spent years crawling around
Bajor, I've had fleas and nothing happened to me."

Bashir smirks and Nerys wonders if hitting him would make her feel
better.

"They didn't itch this badly," she explains to him.

"It just started?" he asks, following her briskly towards the
infirmary. "In the conference room?"

"No," she stops walking, folding her arms as tightly as she can across
her chest and bouncing up and down to distract herself from the fire
burning across her skin. "It itched a little in the shower-"

"What?" he wonders when she stops. "Anything could be important. Acute
allergic reactions are rarely this severe."

Suddenly embarrassed by the recounting, Nerys stares down before she
can look back at him. "I had a dream."

He presses a cold hypo to her neck and she shivers as the fire starts
to fade from her skin. Bashir brings her to one of the back rooms and
starts stripping off her jacket. He orders a full blood panel from the
nurse before he starts to pry.

"A dream?" he asks, gently peeling her jacket from her bright red
skin. The welts have grown to the point where they merge. All the skin
along both arms, down her chest, and she assumes her back as well, is
red and livid.

"It was strange," she tries to call it back up. "Someone was touching
me."

"Touching you?"

"Everywhere, my arms, my chest," she shakes her head, smiling
foolishly at him. "I guess it sounds crazy, but he knew exactly how to
touch me."

"He?" Julian wonders. "That would be the first time anyone's ever been
allergic to a dream."

"Is that what it is?" Nerys asks, trying not to look at her arms. "An
allergic reaction?"

"One of the worst I've seen," Julian says darkly, then he smiles. "Not
to worry, a round of antihistamines and I'll have you back to your
normal self."

---

They couldn't be further from the Enterprise. A handwritten note in
halting Standard welcomes them and explains that their meals will be
brought up from the main house. If they have requests or wish to cook
for themselves they need only ask.

"And the blessings of the Prophets upon you both," Beverly finishes
reading. "I like it here already," she decides, dragging her feet out
of her boots and leaving them unceremoniously by the door.

Jean-Luc moves her boots to place them neatly next to his own.

She starts to laugh, rubbing his shoulder. "It's all right to have a
little clutter," Beverly teases. "It's vacation." Slowly stripping off
her sweater, she leaves it in a heap on the chair and continues to
laugh as he rolls his eyes.

Both of them changed before landing and the silky tank top she wears
underneath her sweater reveals her pale shoulders and arms. Jean-Luc's
smile softens as he takes her into his arms. She understands the
gentleness in his eyes once his attention drops down to her belly.

"When can we start talking to her?" he asks, surprising her with his
innocence and neatly changing the subject from the tidiness of the
room.

Kissing his forehead, she moves one of his hands from her upper arm
down to just above her navel. The baby is high in her womb and has
been all day. Beverly rests her head against his, letting him press
lightly against her belly until he finds one of the appendages their
daughter insists on lashing out with indiscriminately.

"Whenever you want," she answers, grateful that she can share this
with him. "Her hearing is starting to develop and she'll know your
voice soon. Just remember that mommy can hear you too. No plotting
until she's out on her own."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he answers, deadpan. Jean-Luc's eyes are wide
and calm and she likes seeing this rare side of him.

Beverly shakes her head as she kisses his cheek. "Good," she says,
easing up her tank top so his hand rests against her bare skin.
"Whatever should we do before dinner?" she asks playfully.

His chuckle and appraising glance around the living room suggest she
has yet to tire him out. Beverly is glad, even grateful for his
stamina. The second trimester makes her easy to arouse, and living
with Jean-Luc is a nearly constant set of triggers. His arms, his
voice, occasionally even the way he looks at her makes her want him.

Kissing her, Jean-Luc draws her slowly back towards the bedroom. The
wooden door opens with a creak as he leans against it and Beverly
remembers the sounds of Nana's little house on Caldos. It was good to
see her. She doesn't see her grandmother enough and adding to her
family has reminded her how small and precious hers is.

He breaks the kiss, sitting down on the bed and studying her.

Beverly once thought she was good at hiding her emotions. Perhaps she
still is, just not from him. Even while kissing, he feels her shift in
mood.

"I'm glad Nana and Wes made it," she explains, holding both of his
hands tightly. Jean-Luc's eyes are on her belly and that makes her
smile. "You mean the universe to me," she murmurs, rubbing the back of
his head. She loves running her fingertips through the short hair on
the back of his head. "So does Wesley and the baby. It was just so
wonderful to have everyone in one place."

His patient smile warms her and reminds her why they are in the
bedroom. "I'm glad you got to see them both. Wesley just keeps getting
more like-"

"-Jack," she finishes the thought with a sigh, taking a deep breath
and bending down to kiss him. The warmth of his lips brings her out of
the past. "Were you surprised Robert came?"

"Surprise is an understatement," he says, tracing the left side of her
belly until his hand lands on her hip. "We've always been at odds,"
Jean-Luc mused, speaking to the baby instead of her. "Your uncle
Robert is a stubborn man, much like your grandfather-"

"And your father," Beverly interrupts, mocking seriousness as she
addresses her womb.

"Mother too," he adds, glancing up and smiling at her. He holds her
hips in both of his hands, keeping her close. Watching him talk to the
baby melts her heart and she teases him to keep the tears out of her
eyes.

"Could he have scowled more?" she taunts, sitting down on the bed next
to him and lying back. Jean-Luc follows her, lying on his side so he
can trace lazy patterns on the skin of her belly. The combination of
the external motion and the internal flutterings of the baby is a
strange way to be tickled, but she loves it.

"Scowling means he's happy," he insists, slowly pulling up her tank
top up further so it's only on her breasts. "I didn't understand it at
first, but I believe it's simply his way of expressing himself. A
different scowl for each emotion."

Trailing her fingers across his bald head, Beverly sighs peacefully
when he kisses the skin of her belly. His lips are warm and gentle.
She enjoys thinking the flurry of motion that followed from the baby
was a response, no matter how unlikely that is. Beverly likes knowing
they were connected. It's important that Jean-Luc be nearly as close
to the baby as she is. Having them both gives her a sense of
completion she'd only briefly felt before.

This time is different. Softer, slower, and somehow more poignant then
the last time she'd been pregnant. She needs him in a way she'd never
let herself need Jack. Being pregnant when she was young and barely
sure of her life was a different experience. When she was alone then
she talked to Wesley more about cellular biology and the frontiers of
microsurgery than his family. Wesley had very little family. With both
of his parents orphaned at a young age, Nana, Jean-Luc and Walker were
all they had to offer Wesley.

The corners of her eyes are damp, when Jean-Luc finishes kissing his
way up to her cheek. He runs a finger along her cheek, then kisses her
softly. He won't ask, though he'll have his suspicions until she tells
him.

Beverly catches his face in her hand. "I was thinking about Wesley."

"He seems well," Jean-Luc assures her, smiling that reassuring smile
he saves for her most disconcerted moments. She'll never admit how
much she depends on that smile.

"He does," she reminds herself, taking the moment to kiss him. The
kiss deepens and Wesley begins to slip from her mind. He is safe. He
is becoming an adult so quickly that she wonders if he is aging faster
whenever she is away from him.

"I'm glad you have family," Beverly says, shivering in anticipation
when he strokes her inner thigh.

"I hope you will consider them yours," he says. The sincerity Jean-Luc
puts into that wish eases her heart. "I didn't tell you how honored I
am you chose to take my name."

Beverly grins wryly up at him. "I'll always be Beverly Howard, and I
was Crusher for a long time. It'll be interesting to see how I like
Picard."

"You're not interested in making me try on Howard?" he wonders,
slipping a hand beneath the waistband of her trousers.

Easing his shirt free of his trousers, she shakes her head. "Sounds
odd with Jean-Luc."

Relief dances through his eyes and his smile deepens. "I wasn't going
to say anything."

"Such a gentleman," she murmurs, nuzzling his neck.

"Maman knew the kind of sons she wished to raise," he offers. The
mother's-little-boy side of her new husband is one of his most
endearing. He slides her trousers off and Beverly lifts her hips to
ease his task. They've already made love twice that day, but she loves
that neither of them are interested in taking a break. It is
Jean-Luc's first honeymoon and she wants him to enjoy every moment of
it. The fact that her enjoyment falls hand in hand with his just makes
it better.

Slow fingers ran over her panties, threatening to remove them before
he wanders up to her bra. Finally tugging the tank top over her head,
he starts focusing on her breasts.

"Shouldn't even have bothered to get dressed," she sighs, wriggling
her shoulders free of the straps. Removing her bra, he trails his
fingers over the lower curve of her breast.

"That would take away some of the adventure." He kisses her breast,
avoiding the nipple and wandering towards her collarbone. Distracting
him from his journey, she assists him out of his shirt. Rolling him
back, she runs her hands up his chest. Feeling the traces of stubble
on his neck as she kisses him, she shifts to his lips.

He squeezes her breast when she kisses him deeply. She gasps with the
touch. Her breasts seem to get only more sensitive as her pregnancy
continues. The flat warmth of his palm, moving in a slow circle,
teases that nipple erect. It is a slow business, more shifting skin
than impatient gasps. He toys with her hair, lovingly brushing it
aside to kiss her forehead.

"Wouldn't want this to get boring," Beverly teases him, raising her
knee against his side.

Laughing, he pulls himself over her, and bends back her leg. The warm
weight of him on her stomach is gentler than it was a few weeks ago.
He is already careful to avoid the roundness of her belly. She hopes
she won't have to remind him that it is still her, and not something
he need treat like a precious artifact. He kisses her cheekbone,
follows her jawline and then pays his attention to her clavicle.
Jean-Luc's fingers dance along it, feeling out an invisible etching
only he knows.

"Empires will collapse and stars will go out before this," he pauses,
dropping to her breast and sucking it until she gasps, "you, ever
become boring." The wet heat of his mouth leaves a cool spot on her
breast that sends the nipple into a sharper point.

"Even if you have to share?" she asks, guiding her other breast
towards his mouth as she digs her hands into the back of her neck. His
mouth on her skin sends little shocks down her stomach that settle
between her legs. Tilting her pelvis up towards him, Beverly moans
when she finds his hip. His solid flesh gives her something to push
against.

Sending her hands down his spine, she slides one around his hips and
tugs his shorts down. With his help, they come all the way off. With
him finally naked, her hand grasps his penis. Grabbing the base of the
shaft, she surrounds it with her fingers. Running her thumb over the
head, Beverly squeezes, then releases him. Stealing her own wetness,
she returns to him with slick fingers. She sighs greedily when
Jean-Luc rubs her clitoris. After a few quick circles of his
fingertip, he moves his hand lower and slips his fingers into her
vagina.

They aren't enough to ease the ache, but they are hard and insistent;
in just the right spot. Rubbing her body against him, she slides her
hips down until they are directly beneath his penis. Jean-Luc's
erection is hard and hot against her thigh. He moves his hand,
returning to her clitoris while she guides him in. At first he is
gentle, pausing halfway in. Then, deepening the angle of his hips, he
fills her. Long, slow thrusts are unhurried and flame the heat in her
belly.

Her body starts to tingle, beginning in her hips and building upwards
towards her stomach. Grinding against him, she aches when he pulls out
and moans when he returns. The short, clipped sound of his breath
means he is with her. Pushing deeper and moving into her, he lies
above her. His chest brushes against her, crushing her breasts. He
catches her hand, pressing it into the bed. Jean-Luc's body stiffens,
almost as if he's caught in time. He kisses her, distracting himself
from the impending climax.

Beverly sighs into it, gasping when he starts thrusting again, harder.
Her head pulses, warm, then hot with orgasm. Holding his hand and his
shoulder, she waits for him. The little, rippling aftershocks settle
into her stomach, slowing after he orgasms.

He rolls off, resting his head on her chest and his hand on her
stomach. "I can learn to share," he whispers gruffly, still catching
his breath. It takes her a moment to remember the conversation about
their family and another moment to have enough breath to reply.

"Might change how often we can do this," she warns him, reaching to
retake his hand.

"Babysitting," Jean-Luc decides, squeezing her fingers in response.
"Worf, Geordi, Wesley. . . lots of babysitting."

She laughs, bouncing his head on her chest. He lifts it, skin still
pink from exertion. He holds her cheek, kissing her slowly before he
resettles around her to hold her. They lie there, wrapped around each
other until Beverly decides it's time for dinner.

---

Pinching the bridge of her nose isn't helping, tea hasn't worked and
all the mental disciplines she can employ aren't shutting it out.
Lwaxana loathes her headache, as if she can drive it away by sheer
force of will.

She taps the door control for the third time, hears the chime ring
through the doors to Felisa's quarters and snaps irritably at the
computer. "Computer, she's not answering. Location of Felisa Howard,
because it's definitely not her quarters."

"Felisa Howard is in her quarters." The computer responds, as it has
three times before in the voice that is, she has suspected ever since
she'd met that darling little computer programmer, hers. It does make
it easier to accept the computer as being right, even when it is
wrong. Which, it has to be now because she can't sense anyone on the
other side of the door.

She needs Odo. The computer is wrong. Damn things can't be trusted
anyway. Looking up at the door, she puts her hands on her hips.
"Computer, bring me Constable Odo."

"Do you wish to speak to him?" The computer voice offers.

"No," Lwaxana blows air angrily out of her mouth. "I need him here,
bring him here now." The computer chirps but doesn't respond. Finally,
out of desperation she says, "Please." Deanna is always trying to get
her to be more polite. Maybe that's what the computer wants, though it
should practice politeness itself before trying to instill it in her.

She paces irritably, scanning the station for Felisa's mind. There are
many voices, but she can sift through them. She is a daughter of the
Fifth House, after all. Felisa isn't here. Every instinct in her mind,
every part of her senses insists that Felisa is not on board the
station. Has she been kidnapped? Taken somewhere?

"Ambassador?" Odo's dry voice finally appears behind her. "What seems
to be the problem?"

"Odo," she sighs in relief. "Just who I needed. Felisa's in here. At
least, the computer thinks so but she's not there." She pauses,
running her fingers across her forehead. "She's not there. I can't
sense her. She can't possibly be there."

"And the computer insists she is?" Odo asks, patient and accommodating
as always.

"It does," Lwaxana responds, pointing up at the ceiling in disgust.
"It's wrong."

Odo nods once and then speaks to the door. "Computer, override the
door, authorization Odo, chief of security,
Episilon-Two-Three-Lambda."

The door slides open obediently, as if it has been waiting for Odo all
this time.

Lwaxana starts to rush in, but Odo stops her. "Please," he says
gently. "Allow me." Thinking how gentlemanly he is, Lwaxana follows
him in, a step behind. The living area is neat and there is no sign of
a struggle; no signs of life, either. Lwaxana's stomach starts to
twist. Something's wrong. It is nearly supper time and a cold cup of
tea sits in the replicator. Someone had forgotten to recycle it away.

Odo takes a step into the bedroom and stops. Lwaxana doesn't need to
be able to read his mind to see the sudden stiffening of his posture.
He can be so humanoid at times she almost forgets what he is.

Lwaxana looks at him sadly, her eyes starting to sting as she moves
towards the bed. There is no need to hurry. The small, white haired
body lying under the blankets, face turned to the side, is definitely
dead. All that had been poor Beverly's grandmother is already gone.

"Looks like she went peacefully," Odo says, shifting on his feet when
she wraps her hands around his arm for comfort. "No signs of a
struggle or foul play." He taps his communicator. "Odo to sickbay. I
need a medical team in guest quarters, level twenty-three. No need to
hurry, this is a request for the morgue."

"Acknowledged," comes the polite voice of that cute young doctor. "May
I ask who it is?" She can't remember his name. He's tall, human, with
dark eyes and a gentle smile but she can't quite put her finger on his
name. If it were anyone but Odo, she could pull it out of his mind.

"Doctor Picard's grandmother," Odo clarifies for Bashir, Lwaxana
finally remembers his name. "I will speak with Commander Sisko and
Commander Janeway and see how they wish to approach the situation."

"A team will be down in a few minutes," Bashir says, and Lwaxana can
sense the sorrow in his tone. "Seems unfair to pull them back from
their honeymoon for a funeral."

"Thank you, Doctor," Odo finishes, rolling his eyes. "I'll keep that
in mind, Odo out." He closes the channel.

Lwaxana takes a few steps towards the body and slowly closes Felisa's
eyes. The chill of her flesh against Lwaxana's palm makes her shudder
sadly. "On Betazed, it was the custom to put the bodies of our dead
back into the ground so that they could again be new life. Now we
cremate the bodies. Of course, on Betazed we know instantly when
someone has died, because we're all connected. Families gather,
summoning each other, and they burn the bodies."

She stands, staring down at the quiet form of the woman she had
quickly become so fond of and feels Odo pat her shoulder. Surprised
and touched by the gesture, she covers his hand with hers and waits
for the medical team.

---

Jean-Luc is the one who notices the chirp of his communicator from the
bedside table. Shifting in bed wakes Beverly and he immediately wishes
he'd never heard sound.

Beverly groans, knocking her shirt off the foot of the bed with her
movement. "Don't answer it," she whispers, rubbing a hand along his
arm. "We're on vacation."

He pats her hand, agreeing with the sentiment. Something feels amiss.
The Enterprise would never contact them unless it is something
important. It is possible it is just Janeway locking herself out of
the command codes, as Jean-Luc did as a lieutenant commander. His
captain had only been in the baths on Trill, not on his honeymoon, but
the embarrassment still stings a little. Moving Beverly's hand off his
arm, he reaches for the communicator and activates it.

"Picard here."

"Captain Picard," Beverly murmurs, sleepily wrapping an arm around his
chest. "You have to use your rank or they'll get confused."

He smirks down at her. "Surely they can tell by the timbre?"

Beverly yawns and lifts her head a little. "You can never be too
careful."

The voice on the commbadge, Commander Janeway, responds. "Captain, my
sincere apologies for bothering you, I know it must be some ungodly
hour on that side of the planet."

"It's all right, Commander," he replies, still smiling as Beverly
shakes her head that it is not. "What can I do for you?"

"Unfortunately," Janeway pauses and Beverly sits up, suddenly wide
awake.

"I don't believe it," Beverly sighs, exasperated. She drops her chin
to his shoulder and glares at the communicator. "We're being recalled.
On our honeymoon," she whispers halfheartedly. He realises that she
doesn't care if Janeway hears her displeasure.

If Janeway has heard, she keeps her reaction out of her voice. "Deep
Space 9 needs both of you to return. The Enterprise is still
undergoing her retrofit and the runabout Mekong has been sent to
retrieve you."

Beverly's eyes are wide as he reaches for one of the flashlights
they'd brought in from the captain's yacht. "We need an escort?" she
murmurs, still incredulous.

"Are you going to elaborate, Commander?" Jean-Luc asks, trying to calm
Beverly with a hand on her arm.

"Captain," Janeway's tone fades and he feels his heart drop in his
chest. "I regret to inform you that Felisa Howard was found dead in
her quarters. She died peacefully in her sleep. Doctor Bashir reports
that she felt nothing and went quietly. I thought you should be
informed immediately. My heart goes out to you both, Captain."

Beverly is already out of bed before he ends the conversation with his
new first officer. In the weak light of the flashlight, she's pulling
on her clothes. Jean-Luc fumbles for the lighter and then gets the old
gas lantern going in the ceiling.

"Beverly," he begins, wishing he could take away the pain he sees in
her shoulders. She pulls on her sweater over her camisole and looks up
at him with tears in her eyes. He hurries to her side. He expected
much more of a pause before her tears. She usually fights so hard not
to cry.

"She made it to our wedding," Beverly remarks, both hands resting on
her belly protectively. "She got to feel the baby kick. She was so
happy." She shakes her head slowly and then reaches for him. The hug
is tight and he can feel her heart beating quickly through their
embrace. "She was over one hundred years old," Beverly mutters into
his shoulder. Her fingers flutter and then settle on his back. "She
led a good life."

"We should all be so lucky," he agrees, keeping his hold on her. A
year ago Beverly might have told him she was upset, but he probably
wouldn't have seen her cry. Now, that vulnerability doesn't seem to
bother her at all.

She releases him reluctantly and one hand stays on his back. "I need
to find my pants," she says, smiling through slow tears. "Can't be
half-naked when the runabout gets here."

It was thoughtful of Janeway to send the runabout. He could have flown
them back but he'd rather not be the pilot tonight. He wants to be
sitting next to her. That's where he belongs. He kisses her cheek,
holding the moment and wishing he could take the pain from her heart.

"Love you," Beverly whispers before she slips away, pulling on her
trousers before collecting her things. He dresses quickly and because
his belongings are less scattered than hers, he's still helping her
with her socks when their commbadges alert them to the runabout's
arrival.

Taking her hand, he waits for her to meet his eyes before he agrees to
the transport. Beverly's done crying for the moment but the sorrow is
still plain in her eyes. Felisa raised her, was like a mother to her.
Jean-Luc keenly remembers the loss of his mother and father and
realizes sadly that their child will have no grandparents. He barely
knew his but he spoke to them. He knew their voices and the feel of
their hands. His daughter won't have the luxury and he wonders how
they can connect her to her past.

---

The transporter whisks them up and a polite junior officer nods to
them. "Captain, Doctor. I'll have you back to the station in no time,
sirs."

Beverly's hand finds his and stays there, cool and tightly wound into
his fingers. She says little but his touch and his presence seem to
comfort her. Jean-Luc's mind wanders through the deaths of his father
- remarkably quiet, considering his life - and the death of his
mother, more tragic when a virulent lung ailment moved faster than
medicine could cure. He wasn't there for either of their deaths. He
came home, when he could, but he has never been the one to prepare the
body or worry what he is going to say in a eulogy. He's seen that
responsibility fall all too heavily on Beverly before.

She puts her head on his shoulder, and he takes it as a cue to wrap
his arm around her back.

"I'm tired," she says with a weak smile.

"It's oh-four-hundred," he answers. "You're allowed."

"Someone thinks it's morning," Beverly says, frowning down towards her
belly. "She also likes to exercise in the morning."

His free hand runs over her belly, searching for the point that's
frustrating her. She drags his hand over and the speed of the
repetitive tapping surprises him. She laughs weakly and he wonders how
far up his eyebrows went.

"Fast, isn't it?" she says, gripping his hand a little tighter.
"Sometimes I wonder if she can tell I'm upset. If she's reacting to
the tightening of my diaphragm or the way I can't sit still." They
both look at her trembling hands and he rubs his thumb slowly over the
seemingly anxious baby.

"Maybe she's happy," he suggests, trying to cheer her up. "Maybe she
likes space flight, or she knows we're talking to each other and she's
reacting to our voices. You said that could happen."

Beverly's smile is indulgent but he's warmed by it anyway. "She has to
like space flight," she agrees. "It's going to be a big part of her
life." Somehow that cheers them both and, talking in hypotheticals
about things their daughter might one day experience, far too many for
one lifetime, they pass the time until they dock.

As they disembark, Beverly puts her arm in his. The gesture makes him
feel oddly protective, and reminds him that his responsibilities have
changed. Now it's his privilege as well as his duty to protect and
support her. They've only been married a few days and he's still
awestruck by their partnership. He stares into infinity each day on
the Enterprise but an infinity with her thrills and terrifies him.

Beverly kisses his cheek, smiling even though her eyes are sad. "I'm
glad you're with me," she explains. She doesn't add if she means at
this moment, or in the airlock, or if she's thinking of the rest of
their lives as he is. Jean-Luc has to force his eyes forward because
he can hear the huge red door spinning out of the way.

Wesley looks up at them from the bottom of the airlock ramp, his eyes
going immediately to his mother. She lets go of his arm and goes to
her son. Losing his great-grandmother took away the last of Wesley's
family and Jean-Luc still doesn't know what position he should have in
the young man's new one. Does Wesley need a father, a confidant, a
role model? How can he be all of these things, or any of them when
he's never even tried before?

"You'll figure it out," Lwaxana assures him in a gentle voice. He
didn't immediately notice her, and that surprises him. Silence from
her is rare but he's touched that she was here for Wesley. "Of course
I would be," she chastises him for the thought. "Poor boy had enough
on his mind without dealing with death alone." Wesley and Beverly walk
ahead, and Lwaxana stays by his side as they head for the promenade
and the lifts.

"Thank you," he responds sincerely. She can sense his gratitude, of
course, but he feels better saying it aloud. "I appreciate knowing we
have your support."

"Always," she promises, patting his shoulder. "Any assistance you need
with marriage you just ask. Gods know I've been married enough times
to have been in almost every situation." She chuckles a little.
"You're off to a good start. There's a glow in her cheeks and even in
grief, she's happy. I've always thought you'd make a wonderful
husband. Beverly deserves to be happy and you, definitely make her
happy."

"Jean-Luc?" Beverly summons his attention, and Lwaxana's hand rests on
his shoulder as they speed up to meet her. "I need to go to the
morgue."

"I'm coming with you," he offers immediately. Jean-Luc won't let her
go down there alone and her tiny smile reminds him that she wants him
there.

"I have to talk to the Academy and see if I can get an extension on my
leave. Then I'm going back to bed," Wesley says with a yawn. "Sorry
mom. I'll come see you guys for breakfast, okay?"

"I'd like that. Good night, sweetheart." Beverly hugs him again and
Jean-Luc's glad Wesley is here. It was a gift to have him for the
wedding, and having him here now is bittersweet. Felisa was Beverly's
entire world growing up and he imagines it must feel like losing both
parents in one blow. She's had so much grief in her life, and he
deeply respects that she's dealt with it all so gracefully.

"Of course," Jean-Luc turns to Lwaxana. "You'd be welcome as well."

She pats his hand, and remarks, "Always the gentleman, aren't you?"
She nods graciously and despite his trepidation, he'll be glad of her
company if the conversation slows. "I'll see you in the morning then."

She pauses, looking past him to his wife. Taking Beverly's hands
earnestly, she looks into her eyes. "The end of a good life is cause
for celebration and joy for a journey well travelled. Joy doesn't have
to mean the absence of sorrow. It's just that grief makes our joy that
much brighter, and that much sweeter at the end of the day." Silk
rustles as Lwaxana hugs Beverly tightly. Even in the middle of the
night, she's spectacularly dressed.

Beverly blinks a few times, fighting tears she doesn't want to shed
Lwaxana leaves them alone. She keeps her hands by her sides, too
grieved to even fidget as she usually does. He lifts his hand towards
the infirmary and places the other on her back. There isn't anything
to say as they enter the quiet infirmary. The carpeted floor eats the
sound of their feet and Jean-Luc's glad it's not metal. The silence
seems more suited.

"Captain, Doctor, Doctor Bashir is sleeping and sends his regrets,"
the night doctor, a slim Bajoran woman, says as she welcomes them. "I
can show you to the morgue, if you'll follow me please."

"Has an autopsy been performed?" Beverly asks, her voice cool and
formal. Jean-Luc wants to wrap an arm around her shoulders and comfort
her but he'll wait. For the moment, he will follow her until she needs
him.

"It wasn't deemed necessary after the initial scan," the doctor says,
opening the door into the morgue. She heads for the vacant desk and
finds the report. She hands it to Beverly and heads for one of the
drawers. "The cerebral aneurysm was clearly a natural cause of death."

The doctor waits by the drawer for Beverly to scroll through the
report. She knows death certificates, and Jean-Luc can see enough of
it to agree. He would have signed off on it, all is in order, but it's
her grandmother and that must make none of it seem right. He brings
his hand again to the small of her back, wanting her to know he's
here.

"She didn't suffer." Beverly interprets the report, either for him or
herself, Jean-Luc can't be sure. As much as he wants to hold her
closer, he'll respect decorum until they're back in their quarters.

"Passing in one's sleep, with family nearby after a long life," his
voice seems almost out of place, and he smiles. "It's a graceful end."
Something he'd like to have, after a century of life.

Beverly turns her head to him, eyes bright as she blinks rapidly. Her
hands fidget with the PADD containing the death certificate, fingers
running anxiously along the edges. What can he do except remind her
life continues; that Beverly's life is a beautiful testament to her
grandmother's will and loving heart? He loves her and he would do
anything to ease this loss but he knows there's little for him to say.

Beverly hands the PADD back to the night physician and nods for her to
open the drawer. Her hand takes his on the way back to her side. She
pulls his hand away from her back and holds it tight. Her fingers have
grown cold between the runabout and the infirmary, and he wraps her
hand in two of his. More interested in her than the corpse, Jean-Luc
barely looks up from her hands to see the peaceful body of the woman
who just attended their wedding. Still silent, Beverly reaches for her
grandmother's shoulder and rests her hand there.

The night doctor makes eye contact with Jean-Luc when Beverly doesn't
look up. "May the Prophets guide her home," she wishes in blessing
before she leaves them alone.

Fixing a curl of her grandmother's hair, and a wrinkle in the sheet
covering her, Beverly takes a slow breath and he can hear it catch in
her throat. The second one is no better, and he releases her hand to
embrace her shoulders. Suddenly she looks away from the body, burying
her face in his neck. There's no mistaking the warmth of tears on his
skin. He turns, putting his other arm on her shoulder, and she's in
his arms. Her hands are tight against his back, holding him as if he
too might vanish.

He's seen her upset. He's watched her through the darkest parts of her
life, and yet, this is the first time he's truly been a part of her
suffering. The moment extends, and Jean-Luc is reminded that they are
a unit. He's said the words, thought about their marriage, and
understood the theory but it's still new to him. This grief is theirs
as much as it's hers. His nervousness and fear, that he wouldn't know
what to say or do, melts away because holding her is exactly right.

---

The lights are still being replaced in the observation lounge, so the
staff meeting is held on the bridge. Beverly rests her hands on her
knees as she sits in the chair next to Jean-Luc's in the center. He's
pacing, something that happens too readily when he doesn't have a
table to confine him. She almost feels bad for Geordi and poor
Commander Janeway, not because Jean-Luc is being impolite, but because
it's not an easy thing to tell the captain he can't have his ship when
he wants it.

"Full overhaul means full, Sir," Geordi reminds him, standing near the
OPS console. "We still have open ODN lines on eight decks, and the
Observation Lounge is one of a dozen other places still completely in
the dark while we swap out lighting. We can ask for more crew from
Deep Space 9, but we're already straining Chief O'Brien's duty
rooster. Captain, you're going to have to remind Starfleet that they
scheduled this overhaul out here because the Enterprise isn't just any
starship. Everyone, including Chief O'Brien, understands that we're a
working ship and this overhaul has to be done quickly-"

Jean-Luc raises a hand and gently ends Geordi's protests. "I will
remind them of your reasons behind your timetable Mr. La Forge.
Please, continue your work."

"Thank you, Sir" Geordi says as he relaxes, relief evident on his
face.

This calm doesn't reach Janeway, who's still standing at attention
near the chair on the left. Beverly wonders how severe Jean-Luc's
reputation must be if he commands this much respect from a new first
officer.

Janeway takes a moment, then begins her report. "Counselor ch'Sevran's
transport vessel has been delayed at Deep Space Three, so he won't be
joining us until after our mission along the Cardassian border."

"Will you be delaying the crew evaluations until he can join us,
Number One?" Jean-Luc asks, and Beverly pays close attention. She's
put Alyssa in for a well-earned promotion and she would rather it
wasn't delayed.

"Commander Riker and Counselor Troi left detailed notes," Janeway
begins, and her eyes drop to the deck. Her posture shifts and she's
floundering a little. Beverly recognises it, as does Jean-Luc. It's
not easy to do crew evaluations on a ship of the size of the
Enterprise when one has walked on board less than a week ago.

"I can assist Commander Janeway," Beverly volunteers, drawing a
politely surprised look from Jean-Luc.

"I am also willing to assist," Data adds from where he stands next to
Geordi, "however, I believe Doctor Crusher's emotional insight would
be of more value, considering her relationship with the crew and the
fact that she would be replacing the insight of Counselor Troi."

"My duties are fairly minimal while we're docked," Beverly reminds
Jean-Luc as she turns to look up at him. He seems amused by the idea
and she can see his agreement in the set of his jaw. "I see every
member of the crew, admittedly on a different basis than Deanna, but I
at least can help Commander Janeway put a personality on her files."

"I'd appreciate that, Doctor," Janeway interjects, relief evident in
her tone and the brightening of her eyes. "Thank you."

"Well," Jean-Luc agrees, letting some of his amusement warm his voice.
Beverly wonders if it's to reassure Janeway or himself that it's a
good idea. "It seems you'll be ably assisted, Number One. I will
inform Starfleet to expect our crew evaluations on schedule and remind
them that our engineers are not capable of time travel."

"Thank you, sir," Geordi says again, this time with a smile and the
meeting breaks up. Worf, Data and Geordi return to work on the refit
at the rear engineering console and they draw Jean-Luc's attention
away from Beverly and Janeway.

Janeway sinks into the chair so recently vacated by Will Riker and
shares a small smile. "Nice save, Doctor."

"Emergency situations are my speciality," Beverly promises. She shifts
her weight in the chair to avoid the stiffness threatening her back
and contemplates the other woman. Remembering how awkward she was the
first time she met Will, Beverly studies her for a moment. He was so
young then, so was she in a way, and those six years feel like a
lifetime ago.

"I'll keep that in mind," Janeway says, her smile brightening even
further. "Seems like I just did crew evaluations on the Billings."

"Shouldn't have given yourself that commendation," Beverly teases her,
curious to see how she'll take it. "If you'd stayed there, someone
else would be stuck doing these."

Janeway's lips quirk and Beverly starts to think she'll like this new
first officer. Will's difficult to replace; he is like a brother after
the six years they served together.

Janeway's beautiful, and more petite than she expected. Her auburn
hair seems too constrained up in a bun, but Beverly knows the
pressures on women in the command track. Her blue eyes are quick and
lively but she has dark circles under them. It must be the strain of
her new position. Beverly has a hard time sleeping on new ships; it's
possible Janeway suffers from the same problem. She's glad she'll get
a chance to get to know her.

"Don't know what I was thinking," Janeway retorts. "Next time I'll
know better and give myself a nice mediocre review." Even though her
words are cheerful, Janeway's attention seems elsewhere. They stare at
each other for a moment, then Janeway's smile vanishes. "I'm sorry
about your grandmother."

"Thank you," Beverly says politely. Not knowing what to say must
explain Janeway's nervousness. "Jean-Luc," she corrects herself, "the
captain and I collected her belongings this afternoon." That was a
poignant, though strange experience. She thought her grandmother
always travelled with the Howard candle and her journal. Perhaps
Felisa had forgotten them on her way to the station? Beverly supposes
she'll find out when she makes time to get there. She's never been
good at that.

Janeway leans closer, letting the conversation become personal. "I
heard she was from Caldos?"

"That's right," Beverly says, smiling as she remembers the beautiful
planet. "She had no desire to live on Earth, much too civilised and
soft for her taste, but Caldos both reminded her of her ancestors and
gave her a place to feel needed. She had a pioneer's spirit and Caldos
was just wild enough to be home."

Janeway nods her head but her hands are fidgeting with her sleeve.
It's a gesture Beverly knows all too well but it seems out of place
with the rest of Janeway's behaviour. "I have something I need to do,"
she says and Beverly's mind starts wondering about the secrecy.
"Doctor Picard, I don't suppose I could meet you in Ten Forward,
perhaps in an hour? The sooner we start these crew evaluations, the
sooner we'll be free of them."

"I'll see you there," Beverly replies, watching Janeway get to her
feet. "And please, Beverly is fine."

"Beverly," Janeway tries, and then smiles. The gesture creeps into her
eyes and makes the exhaustion marring her face vanish. "Only if you
call me Kathryn."

---

Author's Note: I experimented with present tense last chapter and I
didn't like it. This chapter is back in past and I'll redo the first
when I have time. I apologise for any confusion! Thanks for reading
and for the lovely reviews.

---
Within
---

Shifting in her chair, Beverly tucked her feet awkwardly beneath her.
Kathryn's expression twisted, as if she was trying not to smile. She'd
been a good sport, but Beverly knew her fidgeting was amusing. They've
been holed up in a corner of Ten Forward, with Beverly on the long
bench against the wall so she can shift her feet around. Sitting still
has never been easy for her, and both now and the last time she was
pregnant it has become profoundly more difficult. First her hip was
sore, then her knee, and now it was the lower left side of her ribs.

"Mock all you want," Beverly teased as she looked at her with a mix of
concern and amusement. "Just don't come to me for sympathy if you
decide to have a baby," she finished as the other woman passed her a
new cup of tea.

"Not any time soon," Kathryn sighed, sinking into her chair with an
entire pot of coffee in front of her on the clear glass table. Lifting
her cup with both hands, she took a deep whiff of the fragrant steam
before smiling. "Mixing something like that with a new assignment
would take a lot more than coffee to get me through."

"It doesn't taste the same when you replicate it without the caffeine
either," Beverly pointed out while scrolling through the last few
names on the list. So far, they've managed to find three new
supervisors in engineering, two promotions in stellar cartography and
two deputies in security. "The first bridge position is the night duty
officer at Ops."

Kathryn's PADD chirps as she tapped it. "I see Ensigns Sito and
Lavelle."

The first name sounded familiar. "I know Ensign Sito," Beverly
volunteered, wracking her brain for the memory. Running the name
through her thoughts until she remembers the connection, she sets down
her cup hard on the glass table. "She was on my son's flight team in
the academy. I think they were friends. She made sure to say hello to
me when she came on board."

"Was your son on the flight team before or after the graduation
accident?" Kathryn asked politely, eyes still on her PADD.

The thought turned Beverly's stomach for a moment, even two years
later. She shook it off, but it takes a moment longer than she'd like.
Knowing Wesley had been hurt while she was so far away gutted her and
that fear was still with her. "One of his friends was killed. Set him
back an entire year at the Academy," she answered quietly. If it
hadn't been for Jean-Luc, Wesley might have washed out. He was such a
comfort to her when Wesley had trouble adjusting to his punishment.

"Now that I think about it, I'm surprised she spoke to me at all. I
thought his friends would have abandoned him, or that it would be hard
for her to talk to me, knowing I was his mother," she paused, setting
down the PADD. "He was the one who stood up, eventually," Beverly
continued, looking down at the table before she looked back at
Kathryn. "The four cadets decided to keep it a secret and would have
let it remain so if thy hadn't been caught by the Enterprise's
investigation. I love my son, and I was proud of him when he finally
did the right thing, but it was immensely difficult for him."

Kathryn's expression softens further. She reaches up and scratches the
back of her neck. "I remember what the Academy was like, how image was
everything."

"Jean-Luc convinced him," She didn't add how angry and disappointed
she was behind closed doors when she found out Wesley hadn't intended
to come forward, or that Jean-Luc forced his hand. Beverly hoped the
other woman would relax as they got to know each other but Kathryn
still seemed nervous. Setting down her cup, she rubbed the stitch in
her side. "He still hasn't told me exactly what he said, but he got
through to Wesley. I'm not sure anyone else could have."

Kathryn poured herself more coffee. "He's not entirely what he's
purported to be," she admitted over her cup. "Jean-Luc Picard
certainly has a reputation around the fleet but of course, as it
always is, the wrong parts of his character seem to get all the
credit." Her smile was still genuine but her fingers tapped nervously
along the lip of her mug. She sat too erect in her chair, as if she's
ready to leave it at any moment.

"Do you want to take a break?" Beverly asked, setting down her PADD.
Kathryn didn't seem ready to admit what was bothering her and though
Beverly's curiosity was piqued, she didn't think she'll get anything
out of the first officer today. "We've made a dent and if we stop for
now I might just be able to catch him for dinner."

"Thank you," Kathryn said with a clearly relieved nod. "Tomorrow
then?" she asked, already half out of her chair. "I'm sorry, I have a
subspace call," she explained weakly before she leaves the table.

"Of course," Beverly answered to her back. Surprised by the speed with
which Kathryn left Ten Forward, she turned her wedding ring on her
finger thoughtfully before tapping her commbadge. "Crusher-" she
stopped, smiling a little at herself. "Doctor Picard to Captain
Picard."

"Beverly," he said warmly, setting down his PADD and settling back in
his chair. "Have you promoted the entire ship or just decided to
promote yourself in a bloodless coup and take over?" he teased,
watching her stand in the doorway.

"I'd still be Captain Picard," she pointed out in return. "Starfleet
might not even notice for awhile. You know how rarely we get back to
Earth. Ready for dinner?" she asked.

Just seeing her brightened up his ready room. "Of course," he said,
shutting down his work and organizing the PADDs on his desk. "How do
you feel about trying to the Trill restaurant on the Promenade? We'll
be leaving Deep Space 9 soon and I'd like to be able to say I surveyed
most of the food while we were here."

"Is that one supposed to be seafood?"

"I believe so," he answered, nodding to Worf and Data as they strolled
through the bridge.

"There's a cephalopod with glowing tentacles that's purported to be a
rare delicacy," she suggested, and he smiled in amusement. Trust her
to find the strangest thing on the menu and want to try it.

"You have the bridge, Mr. Data," Jean-Luc said, inclining his head
towards the android as he took his wife's arm.

"It is slightly rubbery when overdone, Sir," Worf said as he looked up
from tactical. "Ask for the uunlabask rare and I believe you will
enjoy it better."

"Thank you for the suggestion, Lieutenant. Goodnight," Jean-Luc said,
openly grinning.

Beverly nudged his side with her elbow as the turbolift doors shut
them in. "Is Worf a secret gourmet?"

Adjusting his uniform jacket, Jean-Luc stole the moment of privacy in
the turbolift and kisses her cheek. "He's always been a man of hidden
talents." Beverly redirected the kiss into something more passionate
and she sighed happily when their lips parted.

"Missed you."

"Evaluations were that bad?" he asked with raised eyebrows.

"I don't have to be doing something terrible to miss you," she
reminded him, kissing his cheek once more before the turbolift doors
open and put them back under the scrutiny of the crew. "Although, that
doesn't mean they were pleasant, or that you don't owe me for stepping
up and easing the transition of your new first officer."

"Of course," he droned, still amused. Her teasing was always
appreciated. Beverly reminded him to enjoy his work, and his life.
Both of which couldn't be better, he mused, as they walk into the
darker corridors of Deep Space 9. Even with the bittersweetness of
Felisa's death hanging over them, marriage is more incredible than he
imagined.

Beverly's fingers toyed with his sleeve before she decided to voice
what she was thinking. "Do you know much about her?"

"I've read her file, talked at length with Captain El-Ibim over
subspace," he began, keeping his voice low as he recounted what he
remembers. "Janeway's a good officer, started in the sciences and
switched later to command. Fine record, with several commendations and
a very thoughtful letter by Admiral Paris. She tends to keep to
herself, especially it appears after she lost her father and her
fiancé in the same tragic accident involving an experimental ship."

Beverly's eyes soften with sympathy. "She hasn't mentioned that."

He squeezed her hand. "We rarely begin our friendships talking about
our personal tragedies." Beverly still appeared to be concerned, and
she was silent for some time as they walk to the restaurant.

"Something amiss?" he asked gently, sitting down across from her and
waiting for her to examine the menu.

"No, no," she promised him, idly toying with his fingers with her cool
ones. "She was anxious about something and I just can't put my finger
on it. Some days I'd give anything to have Lwaxana's abilities."

Jean-Luc shook his napkin across his lap and raised his eyebrows in
surprise. "That would certainly be interesting." They released their
joined hands as bread arrived in a basket with bright purple fruit.

"I'm sure it's nothing," she assured him, shaking it out of her mind.
"What kind of trouble would you get in if I knew your thoughts?"

"No more than usual," he said mildly. She nudged his leg with hers
under the table and he broke into a smile. "Certainly nothing too
risqué, I assure you."

Beverly tore the bread in her hand before putting a piece of it into
her mouth. "Too bad."

---

She didn't have to think much. The words just seemed to flow when she
started writing. She didn't mean to hurt him, and she was sorry for
leading him on. She just couldn't be with him. Not while she was on
the Enterprise and Mark was on Earth. She needed space and the freedom
of the stars. She couldn't ask him to leave his life so she will wish
him well.

Kathryn sent the message without a second thought. She ended her years
with Mark and broke off the engagement with the press of a button.
Pulling the ring from her finger, she set it neatly in a small
shipping container. It should only take a few weeks to reach him.
Shutting the box, she put Mark out of her mind and he's forgotten
nearly when the click of the lid fades.

Creeping to the bed, she lit the candle and waited, running her hands
anxiously over her legs and imagining they were Ronin's hands. His
would bring more pleasure; hers just seem hollow. She was so empty
without him, so wanting. Undoing the clip in her hair, she slowly
pulled it down. Kathryn shook her hair loose, running her hands
through so it fell on her shoulders.

Pulling down the zipper of her jacket, she peeled it off her arms. The
grey tank top beneath is thin but it felt too rough, like it was
tearing at her skin. She kicked off her boots and pulled her trousers
down, tossing them into the corner. She doesn't need everything off
for him to touch her, but she wanted to be free. She was so confined
on this ship.

She felt Ronin before he touched her. He set the air abuzz with his
presence and he wrapped his arms around her.

"I missed you," he murmured, running his hands down her arms. "You
were gone so long."

"I'm sorry," she whispered back, sighing as he runs his hands across
her hips. He can reach through her, touching her inside and taking her
to the brink of orgasm before she even has time to grow wet. It's an
entirely different kind of sex. Ronin can make her feel things that
should be impossible; at least, they always have been before. "I have
to do my job or they'll be suspicious."

She backed towards the bed, falling into it when her legs hit. Ronin
pushed her back further, running tendrils of sensation like fingers
down her stomach. Her clothing means nothing to him and she can
already feel him reaching up and into her. She gasped, shuddering in
pleasure. Ronin slipped along her thighs, caressing her legs before he
reached back inside.

She choked, then moaned at his touch. The trembling, buzzing in her
head started to build towards orgasm, but he rushed it, pouring heat
and sensation into her body so that Kathryn can only writhe in
ecstasy.

Then she was cold, empty, lost and the change is so brutal that it
feels like drowning in ice water. Her chest ached and her body feels
abandoned of all life.

"You don't want me to leave you, do you?" he asked, voice
reverberating through her head as if he inside her mind.

"No," she begged, sitting up in the empty room. "Please, please
don't."

He crept over her, warming her again from the pit of her stomach down
to her knees. It' was such a relief that there were tears in her eyes.
"You want to be one, don't you? Together, always?"

Kathryn nodded, biting her lip and arching her back as he filled her
with phantom friction. "I want to be with you."

"I love you, Kathryn," he whispered into her mind. "Do you love me?"

"I love you," she repeats, not caring how desperate she sounds. As
long as he keeps touching her, as long as he's with her, she still
feels alive.

"Then we'll be one," he promised. For a moment, in the back of her
mind, Kathryn thought about Mark and Justin; how once love was
something she shared. Now love consumed her, eating her alive and
burning as brightly as the stolen candle on the bedside table.

---

Amused that she can tell him by the sound of his feet, Beverly looked
up from her work and grinned. "Looking for me, Captain?"

"Ensign Ogawa told me you were in your office," he said calmly. He
probably didn't need to ask, but he makes an effort to talk to the
crew. She loved that about him.

"She'll be Lieutenant Ogawa next week," she said, offering him a chair
with a wave of her hand. Beverly scrolled down through Ensign Ressic's
blood panel and then saved the file. "She's been nothing but exemplary
since she came on board."

"Then it's a promotion well earned," he said, skipping the chair and
balancing himself on the desk instead. Jean-Luc folded his hands on
his legs, but he's barely sitting and it was obvious something was on
his mind.

"Feeling all right?" she teased, raising an eyebrow as she leans back
in her chair. The movement sends a creaking through her lower back and
Beverly hid the wince. Shifting again so her feet rest on the chair
he's not using, she waited for him to respond.

"I can assure you, I'm fine." He eyed her for a moment, dropping his
attention to her rounded belly. "And the little one?"

Her smile returned as she twisted her hips to get the kink out of her
spine. "Quiet today."

His lips twisted upward into a smile. "Must have tired herself out
last night."

"I should hope so. She's getting to be quite the little troublemaker."
Beverly lifted her head to make sure no one was outside her office and
then waved Jean-Luc over. "Come here."

He circled the desk and let her pull him down to kiss her. It was a
little public for them, but she loved having the chance to be close
enough to smell him.

"You didn't come down here just to ask me how my day was going, did
you?" she asked, keeping her hand on his arm.

Jean-Luc shifted so that he has her hand in his and sighed. There was
something heavy on his shoulders and he came down to be reassured.
He'd find the words, and until he did she waited patiently for him to
put his thoughts together.

"I have to ask a young woman to go on a very dangerous mission," he
explained, looking down at her hand instead of up into her eyes.
"There is a very good chance she could be killed, or tortured, and
what I'm asking her to do is vital to the Federation. We can't afford
a war with Cardassia. Every piece of information we can gather brings
us that much closer to peace." He looked up at her, the lines on his
face tight with concern. "I'm going to ask her to risk her life for
that."

Beverly gripped his hand, reminding him that his strength wasn't all
he could count on. "Jean-Luc, she's a Starfleet officer," she reminded
him. "She took an oath. We all did. Everyone on this ship is aware of
that our duty could demand our lives at any moment." She follows his
eyes down to her belly and reaches up to touch his chin. "We wouldn't
be here if we didn't believe in what we are doing."

Jean-Luc nodded sagely, touched by her words. "I much prefer to make
living heroes, if I have the choice."

"It may be up to her," Beverly said gently. "Does she have a good head
on her shoulders? Do you trust her to make the right decisions once
she's out there?"

He took in her questions and his hand moved to her shoulder. The
weight of it reminded her how difficult his position was. She wasn't
the only one who had to weigh one life against the many, but Beverly
was comforted that he understood. she was here to support him.

"I don't like what I'm going to have to do to find out," he shared,
rubbing her shoulder before he stands back up. With a sharp tug of his
jacket, he was past his vulnerability. "See you for dinner?"

"1900," she answered, and then corrected herself. "Maybe 1930? Our
guest generated some extra paperwork that I can't ask anyone else to
do." She can't refer to the Cardassian spy by name, but Jean-Luc knows
who she's talking about. "I'm sure she'll pass your test, Jean-Luc."

"I'm afraid of what award I'm giving her if she does," he sighed
again, keeping his eyes on her face. "I'll see you tonight, Beverly."

"Get back up to the bridge," she teased him as she reopened her work.
"You never know where Data and Kathryn might take us if you're not
there."

"Perish the thought," he deadpanned on his way out of sickbay.

Beverly finished Ensign Ressic's blood panel and moved on to
Lieutenant Thorpe's third ultrasound. It was a bizarre and devious
sort of liver parasite; she'd been making sure it won't recur, again,
when she heard someone else. Alyssa was in the doorway, smiling
brightly, though she was making a small effort to hide it.

"Yes?" Beverly asked.

"I just wanted to report that our-" she paused, still nervous with the
secrecy, "guest's vitals are improving, and nearly back to normal,
Doctor."

"Excellent." Beverly allowed herself the small smile of victory.
"Thank you," she added before she dropped her eyes back to the scan.
Was that a dark spot near the kidney? Could the parasite have
migrated? A moment later, she realised Alyssa was still standing in
front of her desk, smiling.

"Something else?" she asked, slightly surprised.

"It's not my place," Alyssa tried to dodge the question.

"Go ahead," Beverly waited for her, now curious.

Her nurse fidgeted for a moment, then finally blurted out. "I'm happy
for you."

"Oh?"

"You and the captain," Alyssa continues, her words halting over each
other. "You just seem so. . . content with each other. He comes down to
see you and he has this smile when he leaves. I know he's the captain
and he has to be, well, the captain, but it's just so. . ." she trailed
off, blushing a little.

"Charming? Sweet?" Beverly finishes for her. "He may be captain of the
Enterprise, but I can assure you, being captain doesn't mean he's any
less my husband. It's a good thing," she promised, shaking her finger
towards Alyssa for emphasis. "You'll see, someday."

"I hope you're right, Doctor," Alyssa agreed, keeping her smile as she
leaves. Beverly couldn't help hoping things will work out for her and
Andrew. Alyssa deserved to be happy. She also couldn't help being
touched that her nurse paid attention to Jean-Luc's comings and
goings. She might need to tease him about that over supper.

"Jean-Luc?"

When he finally looks up, he can tell by Beverly's face that she's
said his name more than a few times to get his attention. "I'm sorry,"
he said, bringing his thoughts back to her and what she might be
saying.

"I've just received a communiqué from Deep Space 9," she said, letting
go of her frustration with a sigh. "Constable Odo is certain my
grandmother's candle wasn't in her room. He was very thorough. Ned
Quint, who's still going through her things on Caldos, said he can't
find it either. In fact, he was sure she took it with her."

She set the PADD down on his desk and paced a few steps in front of
it. The untied sash of her purple robe swung back and forth with her
steps. "I just don't see how it could disappear. It's hundreds of
years old, but it's not worth anything to anyone but me. Surely no one
would take it? We were very careful when we packed up her quarters."
She shook her head, frustration momentarily dredging up her grief
again.

"I'm sure it didn't walk away on its own," he promised, forcing
himself away from the mission briefing he's read and reread far too
many times. "We'll find it."

"It's just a candle," Beverly said, trying to dismiss it, but her chin
trembled. Leaving his desk, he took her into his arms and hugged her
tightly. Her head rested against his shoulder and he could smell the
sweetness of her hair.

"It was your grandmother's," he said, holding her a little tighter. "I
think we'll find it. It made it this far, why would it disappear now?"

"Maybe it doesn't like the Enterprise," she teased him, blinking the
start of tears away before she kisses him. "What were you reading?"

He returned the kiss, remaining with her lips for a long moment.
"Mission briefing," he explained, starting to remove his jacket on the
way to the bedroom.

She followed him, leaning in the doorway to watch him undress.
"Tomorrow's briefing?" Beverly didn't give him time to respond while
he took off his trousers and tossed them and his uniform jacket away
into the laundry chute. "Our undercover operative knows what she's
doing. She'll be prepared by Worf and Dal, and if anyone knows how to
survive in Cardassian space, it would be someone who already has.
She'll have every possible chance we can give her."

He holds his robe against his chest for a moment before he said what
he'd been thinking. "I look at her and I think- I keep thinking- she's
Wesley's age."

"I know," her voice is soft. Beverly sinks down to the edge of the bed
and smiles sadly at him. "Wesley will be an ensign next year. He'll be
in her place, accepting viciously dangerous missions from his
commanding officer."

She toyed with the sash of her robe, running it between her fingers.
"That won't make it any easier, but I can understand why he made his
choice. We made the same one, didn't we?"

Shrugging his shoulders into the soft silk of his robe, Jean-Luc
crouched down in front of her, resting his hand on her knee. "You have
every right to be proud of Wesley," he reminds her. "He's a very fine
young man, with a good head on his shoulders. He'll be a truly
excellent officer someday."

She kissed his forehead, then lifted his chin to kiss his lips. "I
love you," she whispered as the warmth of her mouth pulled away.

"I love you, Beverly," he replied, getting up to brush his teeth.
Jean-Luc lowered his hands to help her up and she followed him into
the bathroom.

"Kathryn and I had a strange conversation today," she said, changing
the subject while the tooth cleaner whirred softly in her hand.
Standing beside him at the sink, Beverly smiled at him secretively.
"Apparently, she's broken off her relationship with her fiancé."

He was continually amused and surprised by her ability to keep up with
all the gossip on board. He can barely remember who's dating whom and
where all their husbands and wives live if it wasn't on the ship. He
ran his own tooth cleaner through his mouth and waited for her to
finish.

"They've been together for years," she told him, pausing to clean her
teeth. "When we talked at our wedding party, she called him her best
friend.

Jean-Luc raised his eyebrows slightly.

She rinsed her mouth, spat and then raised her head. "To break
something like that off so quickly..." she said. "I can't imagine what
would end that kind of relationship." She paused, tooth cleaner
hanging over the sink. "I've known you since I was at the Academy. All
those breakfasts together, and the plays, and the formal dinners-"

He interrupted her with a finger across her lips. "You're the only one
who can make me look like a serviceable dancer."

"That's what it was," she teased back, patting her mouth try with a
towel. "If I'd have known that, I never would have bothered getting
pregnant and forcing you to marry me."

He chuckled at that, taking the towel from her and smirking. "Suppose
I fell for that completely, didn't I?"

"You're a terrible poker player," Beverly finished, stripping off her
robe and crawling slowly into bed. "It's that twitch in your jaw. Dead
giveaway."

He left his robe on the chair by the bed and crawls in next to her.
Her body had already started to warm the blankets and she curls
against him when he's settled.

"Must be dreadful for her," she yawned, shifting her head on his
chest. "Letting go of all that history, and Kathryn didn't even seem
upset. I think she's still in shock."

He ran his hand over her shoulder and made a mental note to speak with
his Number One. "Not everyone's ready for a life in space."

"I'll bet Mark-" she yawned again, "-hasn't seen the Enterprise."

"If he didn't want to live on it, most definitely not," Jean-Luc
answered with naked pride. "Thank you."

Beverly shifted her weight again and the blankets whispered around
her. "For what?"

"Making such an effort to befriend her," he said, kissing her
forehead. "It's the first major change we've had in the command crew
since Tasha died and it's wonderful that it's gone so smoothly."

"We've only just left the station," she reminded him as she slipped
closer to his chest. "We've barely been in a space a few days. You're
counting your chickens, Jean-Luc." She started to smile but yawned
instead. His hand found its way to her belly and rested there, content
on the firm flesh beneath. Jean-Luc had never considered himself an
overly emotional man, but impending fatherhood was already starting to
make his decisions more poignant. Talking to Ensign Sito that
afternoon, dressing her down to see if she was ready for the mission
he must send her on, he saw his daughter in her.

He's been in her shoes, and he could empathise with how she felt.
Jean-Luc was not without his own share of mistakes and he knew how
hard it is to come back from one. Maybe he'll tell her about the
Stargazer, or the time he was stabbed through the heart for his
foolishness. Youth was not something he escaped without a few bruises
on his record.

What did she need to hear? Will she stand up to him for being so
unfair? Did she have the spirit to survive the mission he was sending
her on?

He sighed and lifts his eyes to Beverly's face. She's already asleep,
breathing slowly and evenly. Jean-Luc's never shared a bed with anyone
for this long, and it's odd how he can't imagine now going back to
sleeping alone. Even the nights when she was late or they're on
opposing shifts it was hard to fall asleep without her. She might
apologise for waking him when she crept in, but he loves it. Falling
asleep again, with her, was how it should be.

Ensign Sito, the Cardassians, and the hundred other things in his mind
fell away. Beverly's eyelashes made soft shadows against her face. Her
lips were relaxed and still; he glided his hand up to run a fingertip
across her chin. The feathery motion made her shift slightly but she
remained asleep. He let his eyes close and the memory of her face
filled his dreams.

---

"Is eye colour considered to be a desirable trait?" Data asked,
watching her enter the data from the last biometric sweep. He hovered
nearby, waiting for her to ask him to do something. It was his way of
being polite and if he were anyone else, it would be frustrating.
Data, however, wouldn't even notice she was upset, so she relaxed and
lets him hover.

Beverly rubbed the side of her belly and wonders what the rest of his
question will be. "It depends on the culture," she answered neutrally.
"And the species, of course."

"Humans," he offered pertly. "In humans are certain eye colours
considered more valuable than others?"

She thought about his question for a while, running history through
her mind as she filled in the data into the sickbay computer.
"Sometimes," Beverly said. "Some cultures prize dark eyes, or blue
eyes, and everyone has personal preferences, but I can promise it
hasn't been for a very long time since it was part of society. Eye
colour is just a trait, like any other. Hair, skin, the shape of one's
nose. What matters is what's inside Data."

Data considered that, tilting his head sharply as he added it to his
observations of humanity. "So there would be no motivation for
changing the colour of one's eyes other than personal preference."

Smirking a little, Beverly shifted her weight and waved him closer.
The baby had been squirming within her today, nudging the walls of her
womb like a fish trying to escape confinement. "Come distract my
daughter so I can get my work done," she said, reaching for his hand.

"I do not know how I can distract your child," Data replied, eyes wide
with interest. "I am, of course, most willing to do so."

His hand was warmer than the air, but not quite as warm as a human's.
Beverly moved it along her belly and then nodded when she found the
right place. "There, feel that? She's been at that all day."

Data cocked his head in the other direction, cataloguing the
sensation. "Is it distracting you from your work?"

She raised an eyebrow, then smirked at him. "Would it distract you if
something was moving around in your abdominal cavity?"

"I am capable of discerning and prioritising many different kinds of
sensations by degree of importance," Data reminded her, but he kept
his hand on her belly. He was careful, and the hand that can bend
duranium was gentle through her uniform. "However, I believe it would
require a four hu-" he paused to correct himself, "a number of my
microprocessors devoted purely to the task. Which, for an android, is
a notable concession of resources."

"Then yes, Data, she's distracting," Beverly finished, still smiling
warmly. She rolled her neck, wishing she could work out the kinks
herself. She would have to ask Jean-Luc to rub her neck after her
shift. He had such wonderful hands. He complained about hers, that she
pressed too hard, but for both of them having someone there at the end
of the day was incredible.

"Your original request was that I distract her," Data reminded her.
His eyes didn't leave her stomach. She wondered if he can detect the
movement through her flesh with his advanced visual processors. "How
do you suggest I accomplish that distraction?"

Crackling beneath her fingers, Beverly's muscles complained about the
strain they've been under. She stopped digging her fingers into her
neck and went back to work. Her PADD was finally nearly empty of
reports and she'll be able to move on to the next task. Her afternoon
promised to be less administrative but more difficult. It was too bad
she couldn't keep Data. He unfailingly made her smile.

"Talk to her," she urged him, beaming a little even as she rolled her
eyes. "Tell her about the Enterprise, or your paintings. She won't
understand, but her hearing's developed enough that she'll hear you."

"Unborn Picard offspring-" he started with a gentle formality and
Beverly nearly dropped her PADD with laughter.

"I fail to see your source of amusement," Data said, looking up with
polite confusion. "You and the captain have not yet given her a name."

Beverly kept working, still laughing a little. "You're right. But
Data, you could just start with hello."

"I thought it did not matter what I said?"

He had her there and Beverly thought quickly. "She won't laugh at
you," she promised gently. "I might."

"I promise I will not be offended by your amusement, Doctor," he
assured her, always earnest. "Would it be less amusing to you if I
took another form of address? We have not been introduced. I am simply
conforming to social norms of address- being polite- and I do not wish
to give offense. I understand that some expectant parents have
nicknames for their unborn offspring. Have you and Captain Picard
chosen a nickname? Perhaps that would be less amusing to you than my
previous attempt at address."

Beverly paused, resting her PADD against her stomach as she
contemplated the idea. They didn't have one picked out. She alternated
names in her head but none of them fit quite right and Jean-Luc had
yet to offer an opinion. "All right, Data, there you have a point." It
wasn't a nickname of her invention, and though she'd never admit it to
Deanna, Beverly's always found it charming. "Little One, this is your
uncle, Data."

"Ambassador Troi's nickname for Counselor Troi?" Data asked, and if he
were human, Beverly would call the look on his face a smirk of
amusement.

"You know," she said, turning back to the panel on the wall, "I've
always thought it was sweet."

Data still hadn't stood up, and Beverly envied his android spinal
column. Staying bent down as he was for more than a few seconds would
make her back scream in agony.

"Counselor Troi did not seem to agree with you."

"No, she doesn't," Beverly mused, tapping the panel and approving the
information from a few more biosweeps. "But, part of being a parent
means that your children aren't always going to approve of you. It's
easier to start that early."

Data nodded in understanding, and she wondered how much of her
pregnancy has added to his memory banks about parenting. "Little One,"
he begins patiently. "I am your-" he paused, and Beverly could tell
he's flattered by the title- "Uncle Data. I am a colleague of your
mother and a subordinate of your father, not your biological uncle.
You have one biological uncle, who resides in Labarre, France, on
Earth. Your father was born there. Your mother was born in-"

Leaning down from her work, Beverly tapped his head. "Data, the
captain and I will tell her about us. Why don't you tell her about
you? Or Spot? Or Geordi-"

"Yes, Doctor," Data replies, switching tactics immediately. "Spot is
my feline companion. She is a cat, which is a small quadropedial
predator, native to Earth of the species 'felis catus'..."

---

Jean-Luc took the time to comm her personally. Perhaps on an ordinary
day he would just let the message pass. He trusted his staff, but this
afternoon, knowing what he has done, he wanted to hear her voice.

Beverly sounded remarkably cheerful, and he pictured her at her desk,
smiling as she leaned over her work with a hand on their daughter.
"Captain," she started, "to what to I owe the pleasure?"

"Ensign Sito is on her way down," he said, leaving off the preamble
he's been planning in his head for the last few minutes. "She's
accepted the mission."

"You knew she would," Beverly reminds him and her voice is softer,
more gentle, and he loves her even more for knowing he needs her. "She
was a pilot, Jean-Luc, and she grew up knowing exactly what kinds of
horrors the Cardassians can inflict in a war."

He knew that. He'd seen the refugee camps and talked to Ensign Ro
about how she grew up. Her experiences were so removed from his
pleasant childhood on Earth that he can't begin to fathom the depths
to which that would change the character of a person.

"You know what some Cardassians can do for their government," Beverly
reminded him with a dark note in her voice. She healed his body, saw
the haunted look in his eyes when he came home from that awful place.
Beverly was the first one to make him feel human, and it took Deanna a
long time to coax that humanity back out of the animal he'd become.
"You're doing the right thing. She'll come back, she's a fighter."

"Thank you," he said, resting his head in his hands for a moment. "I
assume you'll be home for dinner?"

"Lamb masala," she said, her voice rising back to its normal
modulation. "You promised."

He smiled, quirking his lips slightly. Her newfound obsession with
foods she's only eaten once or twice in her life has them flying
through the replicator database. Sour Andorian desert etkurban one
night and barbeque the next. "See you then."

The comm channel chirped off and he was alone in the quiet of his
ready room. Space hung lazily outside his window, and he spent a few
moments staring out at the stars millions of light years away. A
single life was so small in the cosmos, yet as unique as each one of
the uncountable stars he can see in the Demilitarized Zone and beyond
into Cardassian space. The stars don't know the lines they've drawn
upon them, and they will still burn long after this moment when the
war that may or may not be coming has faded away.

They all make choices, and Sito Jaxa had made hers. He did no honour
to her dwelling on the mysteries of the outcome. Jean-Luc sighed,
letting the weight lift from his chest for the moment. He had other
duties.

Tapping the comm on his desk, he bid, "Commander Janeway to my ready
room please."

A moment later, the doors hissed open and she stood in front of him,
politely at attention. "Captain."

Her auburn hair was down today, neatly clipped behind her neck, making
her look less severe. He wondered if it was Beverly's suggestion. The
hairstyles of his crew matter very little to him, as long as they
remain regulation, but it's the kind of thing Beverly would discuss
with a fellow officer. He suspected she missed Deanna as keenly as he
did.

"At ease, Number One. Sit down, please." He points to the sofa and
pauses at the replicator. "It is coffee, isn't it?"

"Black, thank you, Captain."

When he turned with coffee for her and a fresh cup of tea for himself,
she was sitting. Her back was still as straight as a duranium support
and her hands were folded carefully in her lap. Jean-Luc paused,
studying her face for a moment. He could have sworn her eyes were blue
when they met. Overlooking a detail, like the stunning shade of green
of her eyes, nagged at him.

"We haven't had a chance to talk since we've been underway, and I
thought I'd take a moment to hear how you're adjusting to the ship."
He sat easily next to her, handing her the coffee and wondering why
she gripped the mug so tightly.

"I'm fine, Captain," she said with a nod, eyes meeting his with a
smile that seemed too forcefully cheerful. "Has my performance led you
to think otherwise?"

"Not at all," Jean-Luc promised. In sharp contrast to her, his smile
was genuine and he pours as much warmth into his voice as he can. "You
have performed superbly since we left Deep Space 9. Continue as you
have and I'll be truly spoiled to have you as a first officer."

She relaxed a touch, letting herself take a sip of her coffee. "I'm
afraid you may be exaggerating, Captain."

"A refit is a tedious task and you handled it well, both at the
station and once we were underway." Jean-Luc maintained eye contact,
curious to see how she'll respond. "I am nothing short of pleased with
your work so far."

"All right." Janeway considered that and looked down at her coffee
before she looks back up. Her hands were tight again. "I'm an
excellent tennis player if you ever feel like a game. I might be a
little rusty, but I can probably hold my own."

Now they're starting to get somewhere and he lets his eyes widen.
"Fencing and horseback riding are my own leisure pursuits, though, I
have to admit my foil and saddle are definitely growing their own coat
of dust."

"Busy man," she observed, still holding back. "The Enterprise doesn't
run itself, no matter how good your first officer might be."

Her hint of a joke amused him. Perhaps she was just nervous. Someday
he was going to have to find out candidly just what his reputation is
around the fleet. "I will admit to being 'married to my ship' in the
past. I'm afraid it's my new wife who entices me away from the
holodeck and the gym. Not that I mind," he finished. He was more open
than he would usually be, but he needed to segue into the subject of
relationships. Without a head counselor on board, Beverly's news that
Janeway's engagement had ended has him concerned. Marriage might be
new to him, but putting his career at the cost of his relationships
was something he's all too familiar with.

"Doctor Picard is a lovely woman," Janeway replied, and something
passed through her shockingly green eyes. For half a second, it's
nearly a lustful leer. Taken aback, he let the comment hang until he
was sure, but the look of wanting was unmistakable.

In another moment it was gone, and he took a sip of his tea to buy
himself another few seconds to think. Was he too quick to assume
Janeway's fiancé was male? No name was in her file, and her closest
relative was listed as her mother in Indiana. It matters little what
gender her former fiancé is, and though he agreed Beverly is
incredibly beautiful, he's entirely unaccustomed to seeing that look
on someone's face while they discuss his wife.

Now it was gone, and Janeway again seems almost fearful of him. One of
her feet shifted on the carpet, as if she was preparing her way out.
An attraction to Beverly, even an infatuation with her, wouldn't be
enough to alter her behaviour. Janeway was a seasoned Starfleet
officer. One who was nearly offered her own ship. The irritating sense
that something was amiss rose in his thoughts and refused to be
banished.

"Will that be all, Captain?" Janeway finished her coffee quickly and
got to her feet.

Surprised, Jean-Luc set down his tea with a clink on the glass table
and rose to face her. "Yes, thank you, Number One. I'll take your
offer of a tennis match under advisement."

"I'll start researching fencing, Captain," she replied, all but
fleeing to the door. "Good day."

Retrieving his tea from the table, he sat back down, more curious than
he was before he summoned her. Commander Janeway was proving to be
nearly as much of a mystery as she was an asset to his crew. Jean-Luc
pondered her while he finished the rest of his strong black tea. The
bitterness of the last sip was still on his tongue as he tried someone
else on the comm. Someone who had been known to play a few rounds of
tennis after she mysteriously took it up last year.

"Guinan, I think I may have the time for lunch in Ten Forward. Would
you care to join me?"

---

"It's a bit of a mystery, Doc," Geordi said over the comm. "Would
anaphasic energy pose any danger to the crew? It's a low level event,
barely enough to influence any of the conduits. It's also extremely
localised. The mystery is that-"

"Anaphasic energy requires an organic host to maintain molecular
cohesion," Beverly interrupted, drumming her fingers on her desk. "Do
you think something organic could be interacting with the conduits?
Where was it again? You said deck eight, the bridge, Ten Forward?"

"Section twenty-three, near engineering, four of the turbolifts, also
decks four, seventeen, eighteen and eleven. I have Data going through
the movements of the crew, seeing if he can find anyone who's been to
all of those locations in the last twelve hours," Geordi said,
sighing. "Good thing he likes mysteries."

"Holmes is on the case," she joked, watching his data appear on her
screen. The anaphasic energy appeared be contained but there were
momentary spikes, most noticeably on deck eight. "Some of these spikes
are high enough to cause injury to a human, even cardiac arrest. Is
there any pattern to them? The biospectral frequency suggests that
we're dealing with a singular host. There are no changes in
presentation."

"So this could be in someone? A person?" Geordi asked, his voice
rising in surprise. "Are they in danger? Would they know something was
wrong?"

Beverly turned in her chair, opening another computer file and waiting
for Starfleet Medical to connect over subspace. "Anaphasic possessions
are fairly rare. The Interplanetary Medical Database lists four in the
last two hundred years, three of which were easily resolved but the
fourth..."

The file listed a man in the twenty-second century who was possessed
by a sentient anaphasic entity who referred to himself as a ghost and
purported to have memories of Alpha Centauri going back centuries. The
attending physician at the time noted a relationship between the
entity and the host, and that the host believed himself to be in love
with the entity. Even when the entity was destroyed, the victim
grieved for it.

"You still there, Doc?" Geordi's voice pulled her back to the present
and Beverly turns her attention back to the comm.

"Sorry, Geordi," she offers ruefully. "You're going to have to tell
Data he's looking for the case of the 'green ghost'. There's an
obscure case of an anaphasic entity taking over a colonist on Alpha
Centauri."

"We're pretty far out from Alpha Centauri," he replied.

"I'm sending the data down to you. Some of these energy spikes look
almost identical," Beverly argued, wondering if the information will
get through his skepticism. It was a long shot, but she's always loved
those. There was something more interesting about a case that only
comes around every few centuries.

The summons beeped on the wall behind her, calling her away from the
mystery at hand.

"Geordi I have to go," Beverly said to her desk. "Let me know what
Data finds out, would you?" she asked, shutting down the comm channel.

Leaving her office, Beverly met Alyssa on her nurse's way to report.

"Doctor," she began, "Commander Janeway's twisted her ankle in
holodeck two. She said she was playing tennis with Guinan."

The favour Guinan did Beverly last year by keeping her in Starfleet
when she was about to leave in disgrace was a happy secret between
them and still made her smile. Guinan had taken up tennis after that,
because it was "a shame to waste a good racket."

"I didn't know Kathryn played," Beverly said, taking the medical kit
from the bench by the door.

"She sounded a little embarrassed," Alyssa offered, taking Beverly's
lab coat from her. "Apparently it's been quite awhile since she had
anyone to play with. She said she might have gotten a little to
competitive."

Shaking her head, Beverly walked to the door. "Don't they all..."

Though the Enterprise had a permanent racquetball court, a tennis
court was too large and Beverly headed for the holodeck. She was
slightly surprised when the computer let her in to the sunny, computer
generated spring day and Guinan wasn't on the court. Kathryn was easy
to spot, seated on the ground in her tennis whites, fingers dug into
the grass.

She looked up when Beverly enters. "Sorry," she said sheepishly. "I
completely believed Guinan when she said she wanted me to go easy on
her."

Beverly knelt down next to her, slowly getting down to the grass. The
extra weight of her pregnancy made it a little harder, but the grass
was soft and warm beneath her.

"She said she'd only been playing a year," Kathryn complained, shaking
her head in disbelief. Inhaling sharply when Beverly touched off her
shoe, Kathryn's fingers went white as she gripped the grass. "I've
really done it, haven't I?"

"Well," Beverly sighed melodramatically as she looked up at the first
officer, "it's official. You've been on board less than a week and you
already need me to put you back together." She eased off the shoe.
Tugging off Kathryn's sock drew another sharp gasp of pain. The ankle
was already swollen and the angry tissues were a deep shade of red.
Beverly held it gently, listening to Kathryn's breathing as she tests
her range of motion. Anything more than a few degrees of movement drew
a hiss of pain and any pressure on the joint made her whimper.

"I can do it, of course," Beverly added, lightly rebuking her. "But,
you'll owe me one." Turning to the side, she opened the medkit and
took out her tricorder. None of the bones were broken and she looked
up from the display to tell her the good news.

Her eyes were bright green. The same green of Beverly's grandmother's.
She almost stumbled on her words as she set down the tricorder. Surely
it was just a coincidence that she's been thinking of her grandmother,
but Beverly distinctly remembered Kathryn having blue eyes. Kathryn's
grateful smile was genuine but there's something in her eyes that
makes Beverly pause.

"Something wrong?" Kathryn asked, still smiling. Her voice has shifted
and the pain was entirely gone, though Beverly has done nothing to
treat it. "You'll be able to fix it, won't you?"

"Of course," Beverly said, forcing herself not to drop Kathryn's foot.
"Of course I can, not to worry. You're going to be fine." Her stomach
tightened suddenly and she couldn't blame the baby for her discomfort.
At Kathryn's side, the tricorder obediently finishes its scan. Near
the bottom, beneath normal life sign readings, was an unusual energy
signature. Beverly wouldn't recognise the amplitude normally, but
she's just been looking at the files from Alpha Centauri.

Something crackled in her hands and Beverly jumped. Her palms stung
for a moment and then began to itch.

"What's the matter, Beverly?" Kathryn asked, but it wasn't not her
voice. Beverly can't explain it, but she wasn't the woman she knows.
"Incompatibility is such a shame, isn't it?" she continued, staring at
Beverly's hands. A greenish rash, identical to the one Jean-Luc
discovered on her skin on the way to their honeymoon, was creeping up
Beverly's wrists.

"It's too bad," Kathryn continued, tilting her head thoughtfully. "If
your engineer had been a little less careful. If you were less
curious...You and I, we could have been so happy together. I could
have made you so happy."

She reached for Beverly's face, almost caressing her but carefully
keeping her hand above her skin. "I thought it would be you," she
murmured, sounding like she knew Beverly far more intimately. "I
watched you grow from a young woman, listened to your letters home
from space. You only get more beautiful as you age."

"I've just met you, Kathryn," Beverly reminded her. Reaching for the
woman inside might bring her back. Whatever was talking now, it was
not someone she knew. It was something else entity and there was no
doubt in Beverly's mind that it was evil. "We met the night before my
wedding."

"Oh, we met long before that," Kathryn's voice dropped even lower and
she sounded almost male, and possessive. "Long before," the entity
promised. "But you," frustration seeped into its tone, "you had to
make yourself incompatible." The entity dragged Kathryn's fingers
across Beverly's neck and the itching flashed through her skin
immediately.

Kathryn's - or the entity's, Beverly couldn't be sure who's more in
control - eyes drop to the swell of her belly. "If Felisa had just
lived a little bit longer," the entity sighs and seems almost
mournful. "If she was out of your belly, we could have been together.
We would have been happy. You and I, the women in your family, we're
so happy together."

The dark muzzle of a phaser in Guinan's hand appeared just to the left
of Kathryn's cheek. She didn't know Guinan was even in the holodeck,
but she was immensely grateful. Following Guinan's arm, Beverly
swallowed. She had to keep the entity's attention, and that didn't
seem difficult given the entity's obsession. The way the entity looked
at her belly clamped a frigid hand around her heart.

"You and I aren't compatible because I'm pregnant?" she realised,
rocking back to get her feet on the ground.

Kathryn stood up off the ground, standing on her bad ankle without a
trace of pain. She leered down at her and Guinan silently circled her
to stay behind with the phaser. "Two lives in one body, two energies
make the merging impossible...then there's him-" the sneer on
Kathryn's face is directed entirely at Jean-Luc. "And he nearly saw
me."

"He's very perceptive," Beverly said, bringing back the entity's
frustration. If it was angry, it would be distracted. Guinan must have
called security. Anaphasic energy can easily travel through conduits.
If the entity left Kathryn, it could be anywhere on the ship in
moments and she had to hold it here before it goes after anyone else;
before it tried for Jean-Luc.

"He can't love you as I can," the entity promised, pleading now as it
looked down at Beverly through Kathryn's eyes. "I can make you happy,
as I've made Kathryn happy, like I made your grandmother happy, and
your great-grandmother, and her mother, and all the women in your
family. I could make her happy too," it said, dropping its gaze back
to the swell of her stomach and the child within in a way that turned
Beverly's stomach in disgust.

"When she's grown, when you're gone, I'll be with her," the entity
imagined aloud, nearly sighing in anticipation. "It's only this
growth, two lives in one body, that causes the discord. Once she's
born, I could be with you." Kathryn's hands extended downward,
pleading to touch her. "We could be together-"

"No," Beverly cut it off forcefully. Anger rose in her chest and
despite the calmer parts of her brain telling her to be quiet, she
couldn't let it think that way about her and most certainly not her
daughter. Hauling herself up to her feet, she stared the entity down.
"I have nothing to share with you, and neither will my daughter. Not
now, not ever, will you feed on her. God only knows how many centuries
you've been feeding on my family! You're a parasite. You don't
love..."

Kathryn's delicate features contort with rage. Anaphasic energy, the
same brilliant shade of green of Kathryn's eyes, arcs outward and
makes an aura around her body.

"You will be alone," Beverly finishes, holding the entity's gaze just
long enough for the flood of gold uniforms, led by Data, to rush into
holodeck's simulated tennis court.

The entity looked towards them for a moment, frantic, before it fixed
on her. "I will be with you," it promised. Green light, almost like a
mist, snaked out of Kathryn's body like grasping tentacles and reached
for her. Instinctively Beverly ducks, barely seeing the golden-white
blur of Data grab her and encircle her like a shield, as phaser fire
lances out. As she peered around Data's shoulder, Guinan fired,
singeing the green mist into a puff of smoke.

The blast died off and there was a single gasp of pain before
Kathryn's body tumbles to the grass. Beverly crawled towards her but
Data held her back protectively. Kathryn lay on the grass court,
curled in a ball with her hand on her ankle. Data ran a quick scan as
Beverly watched Kathryn's wide and terrified eyes fade back to blue.

"Good work," Guinan offered, still holding the phaser leveled at
Kathryn's chest.

"She is free of the entity," Data promised as he released his iron
grip on Beverly.

Crouching over the downed woman and crossing her legs beneath her, she
reached for the medkit. "How did you know?" she demanded, still trying
to get her heart to slow.

"Guinan contacted me," Data explained with a trace of apology. "She
believed Commander Janeway had been compromised in some fashion. I was
aware of Geordi's research and Commander Janeway's movements coincided
with the spikes of anaphasic energy." He turned his head to Guinan.
"Your reflexes are most excellent."

"Where did you come from?" Beverly demanded, looking up from her
tricorder. "I was convinced we were alone. Not that I'm ungrateful, of
course."

Guinan nodded her head once, smiling serenely. "I've been known to do
a little holodeck programming. Whatever he was, he was much more
interested in you coming than he was in where I went."

Beverly absorbed this, trying to calm herself with the thought that
she had never been alone with the entity, whatever he'd been.

Data titled his head up. "Computer, end program." The grass beneath
them and the sound of faraway birds faded with the warmth of the sun.
The simple black and gold lines replaced the tennis court and the blue
sky.

"I'm sorry," Kathryn muttered, reaching for Beverly's wrist and
squeezing it tightly. "I'm so sorry." There were tears in her eyes,
and Beverly felt a stab of sympathy. She'd been the victimised the
worst by the entity.

This time there was no crackling burst of energy and Beverly smiled
gently as she brushes a hand across Kathryn's forehead. "It wasn't
you," she assures her. "You aren't responsible for any of it." She
pauses, and then lets herself really smile. "Except perhaps this
ankle," she teases as she checks it again. "Which you've really gone
and made a mess of now."

"I thought I might have," Kathryn replied, eyebrows knitting together
in pain as Data helped her back up. She held her foot up awkwardly,
even moving her knee made her ankle scream in pain.

Guinan quickly took her weight, wrapping a strong arm around her back.
"Did the entity trip you up or did I just get lucky with that
backhand?"

Kathryn blinked, still fighting tears. "Tripping was all me, I'm
afraid."

"I'm getting better than I thought," Guinan said cheerfully, and
Kathryn had to smile.

"You really are."

Data offered a pale hand and Beverly gratefully accepted his
assistance getting to her feet. Kathryn watched her stand and a shiver
of fear ran through her. The way Ronin had thought about the unborn
baby Beverly carried almost made her nauseated. She'd let him onto the
ship. She'd lied for him to the captain, to Mark...

"Thank you, Data," Beverly said, patting his shoulder. "You solved the
mystery of the 'green ghost' with impeccable timing."

"I realised I was following the motions of Commander Janeway when I
checked the replicator records," Data explained. "There was a surge of
anaphasic energy in the food replicators each time she ordered
coffee."

"As I do," Kathryn had to admit, smiling a little, even with tears
still stinging her eyes. "At least eight times a day."

"We might need to have a talk about that," Beverly threatened,
finishing her scan of Kathryn's ankle. "Now you've done it," she
announced, mockglaring at Kathryn over the tricorder. "Fully
dislocated."

"Thought so," Kathryn said, inhaling sharply when she tried to take a
step. "Didn't seem to bother Ronin any, but now that he's gone..."

"Ronin?" Beverly asked, gently curious. Data and Guinan both hovered
nearby, curious for the story.

"That was what he called himself," Kathryn explained, staring down at
the black and gold floor and sighing in relief as Beverly injected her
with the analgesic. "He said he had been travelling a long time and
that he wanted to be with me. He distinctly avoided mentioning he was
only using me to get to you." Pretending weakly to be jealous took
away some of the fear still ravaging her heart. She could have done
such terrible things. Ronin had wanted Beverly, and in the last
thought of his Kathryn shared, he'd wanted her enough that he might
have killed her in the attempt.

"Men," Beverly teased, rolling her eyes as she patted Kathryn's
shoulder. She didn't have to be so kind and that made things worse.
She'd been so wrapped up in Ronin that she'd barely done her duties.
Ronin had been like an addiction, consuming all of her thoughts. She
had become so desperate for his touch. She'd threatened Beverly's life
and the life of her child, but there was no anger in the doctor's
face.

Kathryn couldn't help feeling she'd didn't deserve to be forgiven.
She'd been aiding a dangerous entity all because she-

"Mark!" she realised suddenly. "Oh god, Mark..."

"Mark?" Guinan wondered.

"My fiancé," Kathryn's heart crashed into her stomach and she really
was nauseated. "I think I- no, I distinctly remember, writing him a
Dear John letter and packing up his ring. Beverly, I have to-"

Beverly held her still, looking to Data. "Can you carry her to
sickbay, please?"

"Of course, Doctor," Data agreed, looking at Kathryn for permission.
"Commander, I am quite strong. You will not be a burden."

Kathryn wanted to argue but Beverly cut her off before she could
speak.

"Hey, you've dislocated the joint and torn three ligaments your
ankle," Beverly interrupted, but her tone was soothing. "When I'm done
with that, I will let you use the comm system in my office and you can
talk to Mark."

Data scooped her up, lifting her as if she weighed nothing. Beverly's
hands protected her ankle but the physical pain was parsecs away.
She'd broken up with Mark, in a letter, without more than a few
moments thought for his feelings. She'd taken the most important
person in her life and pushed him away because a ghost told her too.

---

The trip to sickbay was a blur. Beverly tried to make conversation,
but Kathryn couldn't focus. Looking at the doctor swamped her with
guilt, and thinking about Mark made the guilt settle around her like
cold mud.

"It's not your fault," Beverly reminded her as she ran something that
whirred and lit up blue around the nearly healed joint of Kathryn's
ankle.

Kathryn nodded dumbly, but she didn't agree with the sentiment. "I
could have resisted him. He let me- I made a choice to be with him.
I..." she shuddered and forced herself to keep looking into the other
woman's gentle expression. "I wanted Ronin to stay with me."

Beverly sighed in understanding, slipping Kathryn's sock back on and
patting her knee. "You're all done."

Immediately, Kathryn sat up and tried to slide off the bed. Beverly
stopped her and she found herself staring down at the gentle swell of
Beverly's stomach. Swallowing hard, Kathryn made herself look up. "And
you're sure you're all right?"

Beverly tilted her head towards the biobed's display. "I'm fine, want
me to prove it or are you going to trust your doctor?"

Kathryn tentatively put her foot down on the floor and sighed in
relief. That no longer hurt and it was one small favour. "You said I
could use your office?"

"Right this way," Beverly indicated, leading her towards the other
side of sickbay. "Take as much time as you need. No one will bother
you," she paused, debating something before she finished, "and I'll be
here."

If she wanted to talk, Kathryn added in her head. Assuming she could
even form words when she was done trying to save the mess she'd made
of her life. The offer was genuine and Kathryn shook herself out of
her own head enough to be polite.

"Thank you."

"Stranger things have happened on a starship," Beverly promised warmly
and Kathryn was deeply grateful for the accompanying pat on her
shoulder. Beverly's forgiveness didn't take away from what she'd done,
but it made it a little easier to live with. She was going to have to
live with this, however it turned out, for a long time.

"He'll understand," Beverly added with a hopeful little smile.

"Perhaps," Kathryn answered, unable to share her optimism. "I might
not even be able to get a comm channel to Earth."

"Give it a try," Beverly urged her, turning from her to return to her
duties. "Worf can do wonders with subspace."

---

Alone in Beverly's office, Kathryn sank into her chair. Activating the
computer, she keyed the bridge. "This is Commander Janeway, I need a
subspace channel to Earth."

A deep voice, definitely Lieutenant Worf's, answered. "We may be able
to reach them through relay station four. A moment, Commander."

Kathryn drummed her fingers on her desk, hating herself for putting
Mark through any of this. Maybe she should have just listened to him
and taken the assignment at the Andorian shipyard, or the first
officer's posting on the Aeryn, anything that kept her away from the
interesting assignments the Enterprise always had. She'd only been on
board a week, and her life was in ruins. Digging her fingers into the
back of her neck, she sighed heavily. Her stomach refused to stop
churning.

"I have a connection, who would you like to request?" Worf asked her,
breaking her thoughts.

"Mark Johnson, in Brazil, the Questor Group."

The Federation symbol faded into black, then the neat logo of Earth's
communication network appeared as the computer waited for the
connection. Would he even take her call? What was she going to say?
Hello, I'm sorry I broke up with you but I was possessed at the
time...

All thoughts and words vanished from her mind when Mark's greying
brown hair, brown eyes and curious smile appeared on her computer
screen.

"I didn't think I'd speak to you again," he said neutrally.

Tears overwhelmed her resolve, hot and angry as they ran down her
face. She still didn't know what to say, but the words began to flow
just as quickly when she opened her mouth.

---
Thine Own Self
---

"Jean-Luc," Beverly said, grabbing his shoulder with her hand. "I need
a bottle of wine." She set down the play she'd been reading on the
table and waited for him to acknowledge her.

Jean-Luc looked up from his book, startled by the request. He had been
deep in his book since they'd sat down after dinner. He'd started with
Shakespeare and switched to old Oriental poetry because he wanted the
melancholy. Sito Jaxa had died in the course of her mission, and it
was only hours ago he announced her death to the crew. She was a brave
young woman, the kind that made an excellent officer; he knew she'd be
missed.

If that wasn't enough for one afternoon, Beverly had faced off with
some kind of anaphasic ghost inhabiting his first officer. He kept her
close after dinner and chose to sit on the sofa with her feet in his
lap instead of on the other chair because he wanted to be able to
touch her. He kept a hand on her knee as he read the old poetry,
having her with him calmed his heart.

Beverly appeared less shaken by her experience than he had been by his
She had been the one drawing him out all evening. Dinner would have
been nearly silent without her making conversation. It had been
pleasant just to be together, a kind of unwinding they'd both needed.
As he turned the crisp pages and felt the warmth of her body against
his, Jean-Luc started to relax.

Her sudden request shouldn't have startled him. He shifted his book,
running his hand slowly around her normally slender ankle. He slipped
his fingers beneath the fabric of her uniform and massaged her ankle
lazily. The flesh beneath her pale skin was slightly swollen and
Beverly had been making an effort not to complain. She pulled it away,
smiling at him playfully.

Jean-Luc turned his eyes to her, missing the feel of her skin beneath
his fingers. "Beverly, I'm sure I don't need to remind you that you
can't-"

"-drink it," she finished, sitting up enough to kiss his cheek. "Or
coffee, or go hang gliding off the Cliffs of Heaven."

Closing the red leather cover, he set the book down and turned to her,
putting both hands back on her feet. Her flesh was warm, and he wanted
to run his hands all the way up her legs. "You hate hang gliding."

"I do miss coffee," she muttered, but resurrected her smile. She
looked at him for a moment, leaning her head against the back of the
sofa. Her red hair fell in lazy waves around her face and Jean-Luc
thought about brushing it back. He loved it down because of the way it
fell around her face.

"I've had enough of an adrenaline rush for the next few days," she
finished softly.

He ran his hand up to her knee, moving it in a slow circle while he
waited for her to finish.

"Data and Guinan both moved so fast," she explained, looking down at
his hand. Her tone faltered a little and the smile vanished from her
face. "One minute I'm talking to Kathryn and the next there's this
ghost, threatening to run off with our daughter." Her hand landed on
top of his and gripped it, hard. Her fingers were much cooler than her
legs and she held tight. "And everything's all right. I'm fine. The
baby's fine." Sighing again in relief, she smiled at him. "We're lucky
to have so many people looking out for us."

"But you're concerned someone isn't fine?" he asked, keeping his eyes
on hers. He knew that look and the set of her jaw. Jean-Luc knew how
to read her blue eyes when she let them drift uneasily. Uncertainty
crept into her posture as well, and it was difficult not to take her
into his arms.

"I want to go check on your first officer," Beverly explained,
dragging her feet off his lap and sitting up with a sigh. Her free
hand rested on her belly, something both of them were doing much more
often. Jean-Luc took her hand and wrapped both of his around it to
warm it. When that made her smile a little, he leaned close enough to
kiss her cheek.

"I don't think her conversation with her fiancé went at all well,"
Beverly continued, "and I want to make sure she's all right."

Jean-Luc quelled his first reply, that she shouldn't meddle, and
swallowed the second. He could send a counselor to speak to with his
first officer, but that felt like prying. Beverly might be right, and
his first officer was just as trapped as he was by the chain of
command. Janeway couldn't confess her troubles to just anyone on
board. With this in mind, he began neutrally, "If she's just ended
that relationship, she might wish to be alone."

"Then she can send me away," Beverly insisted, taking her hand from
his and pulling her socks and boots back on over her bare feet. "My
play definitely isn't going anywhere."

Getting up off the sofa took more energy than he wanted to expend but
Jean-Luc succeeded and headed for his private stock of real wine.
"Does this call for the '41? Or can you get away with the '56?"

"It's not the wine that matters when you're drinking to forget,"
Beverly reminded him, wrapping her arms around his waist. Her head
rested against his back and her belly was hard against him. It was big
enough to keep her from resting her chin against his shoulder. The
rate their child had been growing in the past few weeks still startled
him.

Her voice dripped with sarcasm, but her eyes shone with humour.
"Surely you remember being dumped-"

"I don't think anyone forgets that," he agreed, tracing her face with
his hand. There was a glow about her skin, something she constantly
denied, but he loved it.

Beverly grabbed the bottle of wine from his hand and put it back. She
took another and held it up for his approval. He examined the label
and titled his head, curious at her choice.

"Let me have this bottle of the '63," Beverly decided. "If it went as
badly as it sounded, I might already be too late. She was in my office
for over an hour and didn't talk to me when she came out." Running her
hand over his chest, she paused, kissing him again. She lingered and
he smiled when they broke. "You know, Jean-Luc, the best part of today
was that you were here when I got done with my shift." She didn't give
him time to react to that very intimate statement before she headed
for the door.

Quickly catching up to her, Jean-Luc smiled at her. "I'll walk you
down to her quarters." She accepted the offer with a little smile.
Beverly had always been kind, and one of the most approachable members
of the senior staff. Lately, he was certain he'd noticed a change. She
was more protective. "You're very," he really couldn't think of
another word, "maternal recently."

Beverly chuckled as the doors of their quarters slid open into the
corridor. She seemed amused, even touched by the thought. "It's going
to get worse. Trust me."

"Implicitly," he replied, making her all the more amused as they
turned the corner. The corridor was empty and he surrendered his next
thought. "I've gotten used to having you."

Beverly tightened her grip on his arm. "I've always been here."

He nodded; he couldn't argue that point. Jean-Luc was trying to say
things had changed in his life, for the better, especially between
them. She was his wife. It was entirely acceptable for him to want to
see her smile when he had made a difficult decision or need to touch
her cheek when his heart was heavy. This was a gift, and tonight he
was acutely aware of its importance.

"I know what you're thinking," she announced, amusement dancing in her
eyes. "You'll take a month or so to admit it, but eventually, you'll
come to terms with it."

"Oh?" he asked, curious.

Beverly stopped in front of Janeway's quarters, the wine bottle
cradled in her arm. "You like being married," she answered, her bright
blue eyes twinkling.

Chuckling as the warmth of being in love passed through his chest, he
raised his eyebrows. "And I shouldn't?"

Beverly grinned, patting his shoulder. The rest of her thought was
going to wait. "How's my poker face?" she asked him with a sigh. Her
smile vanished expertly and she leaned in to whisper, "I think Mark
may be keeping Kathryn's dog."

He kissed her cheek, something intimate for the corridor, but this
once he could get away with it. "I'll see you later," he promised, and
Beverly nodded.

"I won't stay out too late." Her expression remained neutral, but her
eyes shone with amusement which faded as she hit the door chime. He
watched Beverly stroke her belly with her free hand. Their daughter
had been a 'handful' lately. Though he loved watching her naked belly,
waiting for a glimpse of a foot through her flesh. Beverly swore it
lost its novelty after awhile, but she did so smiling. She tended to
smooth over all of her complaints about being pregnant with a smile or
some kind of joke. He wasn't entirely sure what to make of it, but it
was an endearing quality.

Left by himself in the corridor, he headed for the turbolift and stood
within it for a moment. He could return to his quarters and his book,
but he was in the mood for company. It was not an evening to spend
alone and Jean-Luc knew just who he wanted to spend it with.

---

Ten Forward was a little fuller than usual. Losing Ensign Sito had
been hard on the entire crew and they were seeking each other out for
comfort. Worf had been sitting with her friends, Sam Lavelle, Vorik
and Alyssa Ogawa, for several hours. She was proud of the Klingon for
being so outgoing. She smiled at him and gave him another prune juice
without a word. It would be good for him to hear how Sito had lived.

Jean-Luc Picard rarely walked into Ten Forward alone anymore, and
Guinan noticed him immediately as he entered. He was out of uniform
and relaxed. The smile he had for her as he noticed her behind the bar
was genuine. It was an incredible thing to have him be so happy. After
all the years they'd known each other, marriage had definitely changed
him for the better. He was filled with a different kind of joy since
he'd been married, and he demonstrated it much more often.

She tapped the bar and tilted her head towards a stool. "On your own
for the evening?"

He nodded, resting his hands on the glass bar and eyeing the
multicoloured bottles behind her. "It appears that way," Picard said,
smiling and raising his eyebrows. He leaned closer, as if sharing a
secret. "Beverly's consoling my Number One."

Guinan turned from him, searching her collection of real liquor as she
listened to him. The bottle she wanted was around here somewhere, next
to the Aldeberan Whisky but not next to the Starduster mix. She'd put
the bottle away, so it was right next to the three bottles of Romulan
Ale she kept around for emergencies. Disguising them as Itharcan
ceremonial funeral wine kept everyone away from the illicit beverage
and let her keep them close at hand.

Pulling up the crystal cut bottle of traditionally brewed, if not
authentic, El Aurian lammachide, Guinan tugged at the stopper as she
watched him mull over the possibilities for what was in the bottle.

"We're celebrating," she offered, setting down the bottle in front of
him. Grabbing two glasses, she set them on either side of the bottle
and bowed her head a little. Wondering if the gesture would make him
remember the cultural significance, she beamed as he caught the hint.
Jean-Luc knew what it was and his smile brightened even more once he
understood the significance.

"Where did you find lammachide?" he asked, pouring a swallow into a
glass and setting it between them. "I didn't know anyone in the galaxy
still made it."

"Remember my son Archai? The one who wanders through different careers
the way you or I would change outfits," she said, lifting the cup and
bowing her head again before she looked into his eyes and took a sip.
"I hear and am heard," she said, formally passing the cup back.

Picard snapped his fingers, remembering the words just in the nick of
time. "I am heard and I hear?" The question floated until she inclined
her head respectfully. Then he smiled in mock relief and took a sip.
He smacked his lips, nodding in approval. "Exquisite."

"I know," she agreed, pouring his cup full and passing him the bottle
so he could pour hers. "I was hoping my son would choose this as his
vocation when I realised he had such a knack for brewing. He gets the
bubbles just right," she noted, lifting the clear, handleless cup and
watching the bubbles cling to the sides. Meeting Picard's eyes, she
took a sip and smiled contentedly when the liquid warmed to her mouth
and fizzed across her tongue. The hints of spice clung to the inside
of her nose and she sighed.

"Children cannot be what we want them to, only what they wish," she
told him. "I may be a bit pre-emptive in the warning, but it's never
too early to warn a expectant father what he's getting himself into."

"I hope you won't think less of me for admitting that I expect to
cherish every minute of it," he chuckled dryly. "At least, that's what
I think when I feel my daughter move."

"It is incredible, isn't it?" she asked, sipping her lammachide
slowly. "Your daughter," she paused and waved her hand at the cup,
"and the drink."

"And my wife," he added, smiling over at her. Picard's face changed so
much when he smiled. The green shirt he wore added a brightness to his
eyes and over the last few months, he laughed easily. Marriage suited
him, more than anyone might have predicted. "Beverly amazes me each
day," he continued, watching the surface of his drink. "Even when she
tells me she's complaining too much or I think about all the
complaints she might have that she never voices."

"It's a heady experience, isn't it?" Guinan replied, looking past
Picard to the crew half-filling the lounge. The captain drew his share
of looks when he was in the lounge. When the rumours were running
rampant through the ship about the captain and a certain chief medical
officer either of their appearances in Ten Forward would slowly draw
curious looks. Now that they were married, they were simply the source
of knowing glances and half smiles of approval.

Picard, of course, had no idea his crew saw him that way and Guinan
took pleasure in keeping it that way. Whatever he thought the crew's
opinion of his marriage was, he was too content to spend much time
wondering. "What was your first like?" he asked after he'd taken a few
sips of his drink. "However many centuries ago he or she was born."

"More than I'll admit here," Guinan replied, dredging up the memory of
her first child. "I had my son with my second husband. The first
hadn't wanted children and I was surprised when my second mentioned
wanting to have one. It was the discussion of many nights; something
we joked about over meals. Frequently, my people do things slowly.
Sometimes it feels like we talk about an idea more than we engage with
it."

Resting her chin on her hand, she looked deep into Picard's hazel
eyes. He stared back at her, without looking away, waiting patiently
for her story.

"It is one of the things I love about humans," she continued, "you're
so committed to an idea that you just do it. Like Beverly and this
baby, you wanted them both, now you have them. There weren't years of
discussion, you just did accepted it."

"Whether or not it took us years is a matter of some debate," he
admitted sheepishly. Picard's wry smile was a rare moment of
vulnerability and something she appreciated that he shared with her.

"You're together now," she reminded him, watching him finish his
drink. "My son was perfect. Completely perfect, whether he cried or
laughed and spilled his juice across the table. Grew up to be an
engineer, always seeking perfection. It suited him."

Picard looked at her glass, waiting for her to finish her drink before
he refilled it. "How did you know what to do?"

Guinan swallowed the last of her lammachide. "Trial and error," she
said, lifting her glass to be refilled. Picard would respect her
telling him the truth. "A whole lot of both."

---

"It took you seven years?" That was a ridiculous amount of time to
avoid a relationship. Kathryn lifted her head slowly from her hands.
The motion made her head spin a little, and Beverly's hand caught her
shoulder. That steadied her head and the room followed. They sat on
the sofa together, an empty wine glass next to an empty bottle on the
table in front of them. A lonely tea cup sat next to the wine glass
with a little liquid in the bottom.

Kathryn's auburn hair was only loosely up, and wisps of it kept
escaping. "Seven years?" she repeated. Giggling a little, she leaned
back on the sofa, trying not to shake her head. She was out of uniform
and her hair was down.

"We had several close encounters. Even on our second mission," Beverly
explained with a little sigh. The good doctor's cheeks flushed pink
and Kathryn waited impatiently for the story.

Beverly had been patient, listening to Kathryn's rambling complaints
about Mark, and her memories of Justin. When Kathryn had reached the
bottom of the bottle of wine, the pain was numb and she'd grown
curious about the doctor's past. Teasing her about the captain would
have been difficult sober, but now that she was tipsy her curiosity
won out.

"Have you read about the Psi 2000 virus?" Beverly asked, setting down
her tea cup and folding her hands over her belly.

"At the Academy, second year," she said, tilting her head. "Unknown
pathogen makes everyone go wacko, would be hilarious if people didn't
die. . ."

"Actually," Beverly corrected with a twist of her lips, "it's much
more like being intoxicated. I stormed right into his ready room and
tried to convince him to take me on the desk."

Now that was good. Sitting up straight, then falling over towards
Beverly, Kathryn rested her head on the doctor's shoulder. "Really?"

"I was trying to report to him but under the influence of the damn
virus all I could think about was how much I wanted to strip off his
uniform and...you get the idea," Beverly finished with an evil smirk.

Kathryn covered her mouth as she giggled. That was something that had
been left out of the service records and mission reports. "How'd he
resist you? How'd you resist him after he was infected?" Beverly's
blue eyes had a wicked glint and she realised there was more to the
story. "Oh you minx, you did it, didn't you? You're the one who
infected him."

"I don't see how that makes me a minx-"

Kathryn looked down at her belly, asking the baby for help. "You agree
don't you? Remember, you'll need me to agree with you someday. Your
mother's a wicked little- well, I suppose she's tall, actually- minx."

Beverly laughed, a rich, gentle sound. She finally agreed, idly
stroking Kathryn's hair. "All right, no need to start a conspiracy
with the little one. We teased each other, but nothing really came of
it. What else can I tell you..."

As Beverly thought, she continued running her fingers through
Kathryn's hair, reminding Kathryn of her sister Phoebe. What was she
going to say when she had to tell her about Mark? Kathryn dreaded the
eventual conversation already.

"Do you have any family?" Kathryn interrupted Beverly's thoughts.
"Other than Wesley, who really is a lovely young man."

"Thank you." Beverly accepted the compliment before she answered the
question. "I don't, now that Nana- my grandmother's died. Jean-Luc has
his brother, sister-in-law and his nephew René. They're my family
now."

"I only asked," Kathryn paused, regretting that she might have been
prying. "and I am sorry I asked-"

"It's all right," Beverly soothed, pulling up her legs beneath her.
She kept finding the oddest ways to sit but Kathryn couldn't blame
her.

"You remind me of my sister," she finished the explanation lamely. She
sighed and toyed with her sleeve. "And I'm babbling."

Shifting again, moving her knees so they were comfortable, Beverly
grimaced a little. "You're allowed," she promised. "What's your sister
like?"

The grimace was for her body, not anything Kathryn had said, and the
first officer felt a warm rush of sympathy. "Passionate, ruthless,
artistic...she got me out of bed when my father and Justin died," she
finished. "For a while there, I didn't think anyone could, but she
did." Rolling onto her back, she rested her head on the sofa right
next to the blue and black curve of Beverly's belly. From that vantage
point, the future baby Picard took up most of the horizon. That
thought made her giggle again.

"Justin would have come on the Enterprise with me," she mused, still
wandering through the past. It was true. He was a security officer,
one of the best, and he'd have been thrilled to be on the Enterprise.
"Security," she rambled, trying to get her thoughts out into the
world. "Would have just loved working for a Klingon. Would have gone
crazy training, trying to learn everything Worf could teach him."

Thinking about Justin, dead beneath the ice far away, made her chest
grow tight and she shook her head quickly. "Tell me about Jean-Luc."

Whenever she couldn't handle the subject at hand, Kathryn would beg
Beverly to tell some story of her own. As the night slipped by, she
knew she had a friend. First Beverly had talked about growing up on
Caldos, then dancing and trying to hide the fact that she was dancing
at the Academy. They had an appointment with the holodeck and a ballet
studio together after the baby was born.

Eventually in their conversation came Jack, Beverly's good-hearted, if
oddly humoured, husband; now, they spoke of Jean-Luc.

"Once he saved my life when I was injured," Beverly told her softly,
sensing the shift in mood. Her eyes softened as she looked down. "He's
saved my life many times, while saving the ship, but that time it was
just the two of us. We were running from a damn robotic hunting device
and we fell into an old control room. It was a long way down and he
somehow managed it without being hurt but I broke my arm and mangled
my leg. I remember him trying so hard to be brave and hopeful, keeping
me awake and from giving up."

The hand in Kathryn's hair stopped and Beverly's expression, floating
far above the blue wall of her belly, was remarkably vulnerable. It
was that look, that loving, enraptured look some couples had for each
other. Kathryn had it with Justin. She'd thought she had it with Mark.
Reaching up across her chest, she patted the back of Beverly's hand.

"He came down to sickbay while I was in recovery," Beverly continued,
smiling sweetly. "Geordi still had the con, and I remember that making
me laugh because it was so good of him to let him keep it. Jean-Luc
sat with me when I fell asleep, and he was still there when I woke up.
He denied it, of course, but one of the nurses told me later that he'd
been there the whole time, reading his book."

"That's adorable!"

"It is," Beverly agreed, turning serene with her smile. "Jean-Luc is a
very dear man. Not that you or I should ever say that in public about
him."

Miming sealing her lips, Kathryn agreed. "I don't know if it detracts
from the legend of Captain Picard or makes him even more
extraordinary."

Beverly was more philosophical, probably because she was sober. "We
all have our public and private personas," she decided.

"Mark definitely does," Kathryn said. The words were bitter in her
mouth but maybe she needed to say them. Getting them out took some of
the venom away. "He's all philosopher in public. He's all professor
and thinker as if there's nothing else in the world. In private, when
he's out of the world, he's this darling man."

"Surely he could be a philosopher here," Beverly interjected, curious.
She'd been careful not to ask early on, but now they were both
comfortable with each other. "The Enterprise meets new worlds with new
ideas, attends conferences, negotiates peace treaties; it's not like
we're a long range deep space vessel that's out of contact with the
academic world for years at a time."

"Something I may have shouted at him over subspace," Kathryn groaned,
covering her eyes with her hands. Hiding her eyes didn't make the
facts disappear, no matter how she wished it would. "Among many other
nasty things. You know, it wasn't even Ronin that was the problem. He
forgave me for that. He was worried about something bad happening to
me. It was what the damn entity represented. A whole universe of scary
bad things that could take me hostage or prisoner and send me home in
a casket with a Federation flag on top."

"What we signed on for," Beverly agreed with a dark smile. "Do you
think he didn't want to risk you or himself?"

"Half a dozen of one..." Kathryn sighed again. "Who gives up cooking
for a replicator? Who gives up the Brazilian jungle for the holodeck
and a springball court? Mark is happy to be my husband, but there's
not enough room in a marriage for me, him and Starfleet."

"Then he's not good enough for you," Beverly said, surprising the
other woman with her outburst. "I'm sorry," she added. "I know it's
not what you want to hear, but if he's asking you to choose, give up
the stars for a desk job at command so he can stay on Earth, that's
not fair to you. If he won't come here, you shouldn't be obliged to go
back to Earth. Not when you'd be unhappy."

Kathryn rolled her head back up, staring at the ceiling above her.
"How do I know I'd be unhappy?"

"I think you know," Beverly ventured, shifting her hips a little so
she could look down at her. "You went back to starships after the
accident that killed your father and Justin. You've been on them ever
since. If you'd be happy on a planet, you would have asked for one."

Beverly was right. She had the frustrating habit of being so that
reminded Kathryn of her sister. It was compounded by the fact that
instead of being a flighty artist she could brush off, Beverly was a
doctor. And not just a doctor, but a Starfleet officer, happily
married, and a parent. It didn't mean she'd be right all the time, but
Kathryn was betting on her tonight.

Mark wasn't willing to change his life for her; she wasn't willing to
change for him. Something had to give eventually. Perhaps it was
better that they had only ended an engagement instead of getting
divorced. Holding on to that dark thought let her dislike Mark as much
as she hated herself. They weren't ready for each other, and they
never were going to be.

When Kathryn raised her eyes, she didn't know how long she'd been lost
in thought, Beverly was smiling again.

"What?" she asked.

"I think someone can hear you," Beverly explained, sliding her hand
around and into Kathryn's line of sight. "She's much more interested
in your side of my womb at the moment."

"Sorry?" Kathryn offered half-heartedly, sitting up and giggling. The
room spun a little, as if it were part of an ancient sea simulation in
the holodeck. "I can try to be boring."

"It's just the voice," Beverly promised sagely. "I think she likes it.
She'll follow Jean-Luc from side to side if we change positions and
she's awake. Maybe she's going to grow up to be a counselor or a
diplomat, something where she deals with people."

"May I?" she asked, more eager than she expected to feel baby Picard
moving around. Beverly accommodated her by taking her hand and placing
it over an odd protrusion. Maybe it was an arm. "Do you think she'll
join Starfleet?"

Chuckling, Beverly quirked her lips. "Always a possibility," she said.
"It was the only thing Wesley wanted, from when he was tiny. He's
always wanted to be in Starfleet. Perhaps she will, perhaps she'll be
a violinist or a teacher. As long as she's happy."

If people had babies on starships, there certainly wasn't a reason
Mark couldn't write his books on starships. Other than he didn't want
to and when it got down to it, there were things Mark just wasn't
ready to give up. She couldn't hate him for it, as much as she wanted
to, because she was equally unwilling to move to Earth. She needed to
think about something else. Maybe the little one was on her side. Baby
Picard turned into her hand, pressing some unknown body part up
against the flesh of her mother's body.

"Can I ask? What made you decide to have her?"

Beverly sighed, and Kathryn looked up caught her blushing. "That's a
little complicated."

Kathryn smiled and looked around mysteriously. "I like complicated. As
long as the little one won't be offended, I'll tell you who Lwaxana
found in your bedroom during your bachelor party if you tell me how
baby Picard came to be."

"Oh, she wouldn't tell me!" Beverly glared. Obviously she'd been
wondering for awhile, and Kathryn was pleasantly surprised that the
Ambassador had been so tight-lipped with her secret. "It wasn't-"

Kathryn held her ground. If she was going to admit what had happened
between her and Chakotay to anyone, she needed a good reason to do so.
"Tell me about the baby, and I'll tell you what Lwaxana wouldn't."

Beverly debated for a moment, returning to that calm poker face that
was going to be difficult to beat on Tuesday. Poker nights on the
Enterprise were as cutthroat as springball had become on the Billings.
Thankfully, Kathryn was better at poker.

"I'm even intoxicated enough to provide details I normally would not
sink to..." she admitted with a long sigh.

"Tease," Beverly accused playfully. "All right, if you get me a cup of
tea and save me from having to get up, I'll tell you about the little
one."

"You can't laugh at me if I can't chart a straight course to the
replicator," Kathryn protested as she got unsteadily to her feet. The
thrumming of the warp drive seemed to be coming all the way up through
the deck plating to her feet. She clung to the sofa and the wall for a
moment and then found her balance.

"I might laugh if you trip," Beverly admitted, "but I'll heal you if
you damage anything."

"I hate doctors," Kathryn muttered, finally making her way the two
meters to the replicator. Leaning gratefully on the wall, she turned
her head back to her guest. "Always so self-righteous."

"Nothing at all like first officers," Beverly argued, moving her legs
from one side to the other. "Peppermint, if you don't mind."

Walking back with the hot tea in her hand was much more difficult than
walking back on her own, but somehow, moving slowly, she made it.
Kathryn set it down victoriously and realised just before she sat that
a glass of water, or two, would probably be a good idea. She turned
back to the replicator and heard Beverly chuckling behind her.

"Jean-Luc went on leave," Beverly started her story. "He likes going
on archeological digs on strange planets. The dirtier and more removed
from Federation space, the more he seems to like them-"

---

Sleep was a pleasant state. The comfort of his bed, the stilling of
his thoughts and the knowledge that everything was right with the
Enterprise: with all of those, Jean-Luc could sleep soundly. Having
Beverly in bed next to him was a new requirement, and sometimes she
was late. He'd learned slowly to go to sleep without her, but hadn't
yet learned to sleep through her arrival.

The door to their quarters hissed open then shut again, and he heard
her take off her boots. The sigh of relief that followed the swishing
sound of her stripping off her uniform made him smile. A moment later
Beverly crawled into bed next to him, curling around his chest. Her
head slipped into its accustomed spot on his shoulder.

"What time is it?" he asked groggily.

Beverly yawned, squeezing his waist with her arm. "Just past oh-two
hundred," she whispered. "She's feeling better."

It took a moment for his tired mind to realise that Kathryn was the
'she' Beverly was talking about. She'd gone over there with a bottle
of his wine hours ago. Well before he'd stayed far too late in Ten
Forward with Guinan and sparkling El Aurian wine. "Did you leave a
hypo for the hangover?" That made her giggle, and he felt Beverly's
breasts move against his side.

"I did," she promised, moving up to kiss his cheek. "Thank you for
letting me abandon you for the night."

"I'm glad you're back," he murmured, losing the battle against sleep.
She kissed his cheek again, then settled down. Resting his hand on her
back, Jean-Luc slipped back into his dream. Something about riding a
horse through the Azure Nebula, or some other nonsense.

---

"I thought you'd be asleep," Deanna's voice carried up from the comm.
On the little screen in the ready room, Deanna's bright smile beamed
up at her. "I was sure I'd be leaving a message with Data."

Beverly couldn't believe it had only been a few weeks since she'd seen
her friend. Getting Deanna's message during her watch on the bridge
was a stroke of luck. Gamma shift was often quiet and tonight she had
the luxury of sitting in Jean-Luc's chair, in his ready room, talking
to Deanna on Earth.

"What is it Enterprise time? Oh-three-hundred?" Deanna continued,
teasing. The wall behind her had a large window with trees and
flowers, and Beverly assumed she was in San Francisco.

Nodding her head, Beverly scrolled through another perfectly ordinary
sensor scan and approved it. "Closer to oh-four-hundred now," she
answered. "It doesn't feel that late," she explained. "I'd be tired
now if I was on alpha or beta shift."

"That bad?" Deanna's tone was sympathetic and Beverly appreciated it.
As much as she resented the implication that she was less capable of
her duties, they were tiring. She'd had to pass off two surgeries that
she normally would have done herself. The administrational side of
sickbay was the easiest to manage, but unfortunately was the least
rewarding.

It would be a relief to have her own body back in two months. "If I
could schedule naps into my day I'd be just fine," she replied. "It's
all right. The gamma shifts are a nice change. After this I can sleep
all day."

"Find the positive side," Deanna agreed. She sighed and rested her
chin on her hands. Something was on her mind. "May I ask what made you
take the bridge officer's test? You didn't need the rank to be chief
medical officer."

Setting down the PADD, Beverly turned to Deanna's expectant expression
on the little screen and crossed her arms thoughtfully. "This wouldn't
have anything to do with a certain class reunion Will mentioned you
going to?"

Deanna winced and tossed a glare off screen. "I had the chance to
reconnect with some old friends. I'd fallen out of touch with most of
them. It was interesting to see the different paths their lives have
taken..." She took a breath then smiled. "What did you do with Data to
get his shift?"

"Data's away on assignment," Beverly promised, returning the smile. "A
probe crashed on Barkon Four. Some of the materials in the casing are
radioactive so Data was sent to recover it before it contaminated the
biosphere."

"And you jumped on his shift?" Deanna joked, tossing something at
someone offscreen. The someone nudged in, his bearded face spilt with
a grin.

"You do glow," Will teased before Deanna smacked him away. "And it
looks beautiful," he called as he retreated. "Give Jean-Luc my
regards."

"He's on his way to meet our new first officer, Commander Nilshala,"
she explained with a final glare in Will's direction. "We're having
dinner with her tomorrow, but Will wanted time to get to know her a
bit while she's here."

Pleased that Will was adjusting so well, Beverly waited for Deanna to
be alone. "Seems like someone can't get enough of being captain..."

"He loves it," Deanna assured her, dropping her hands down into her
lap. "When he's not looking at how Voyager is put together he's
cobbling together the crew roster and writing training simulations for
the holodeck. He's absolutely set on living up to Captain Picard's
example, no matter how many times I tell him he's chosen some very
large shoes to fill."

"He'll be fine," Beverly promised, remembering the long talks she and
Jack had with Jean-Luc when he was promoted to captain. Convincing him
of his own strengths had been an interesting set of discussions.
"Will's very adaptable."

"So people keep telling me," Deanna muttered. A curly mass of dark
hair tumbled over her shoulder and she smirked. "How's baby Picard?"

"The little one?" she answered with a smile. The nickname drew the
wince from Deanna she'd been expecting.

"Oh you're not," Deanna protested, eyes widening in mock despair. "You
didn't." She frowned helplessly. "She'll hate it once she's twelve."

"She'll hate everything I do when she's twelve," Beverly teased her.
Wesley had been such an easy teenager. The only thing like rebellion
from him was dating a princess and designing supersmart nanites that
ate the computer core. It was a far cry from some of the things
Beverly had done at his age. "She'll probably dye her hair blue and
listen to Klingon opera."

Deanna made a curious sound and giggled. "That doesn't seem too bad,
the captain loves Klingon opera. I don't know how well blue will suit
her colouring."

Dropping her head into her hands, Beverly pretended to sigh in
exhaustion at the thought. "Wesley was almost too well behaved. Our
little one has Jean-Luc's stubborn streak and my-"

"Tenacity?" Deanna guessed.

Lifting her head as she rubbed her temples, Beverly shook it once. "I
just hope it's not my tongue."

"Beverly, you're quite tactful," Deanna reminded her gently.

"I am now," Beverly corrected her with a wince born of old memories.
"You should have seen me at thirteen."

"When were you a brunette?" The counselor toyed with a lock of her own
hair for emphasis. "That's what I still want to see."

Sitting back in Jean-Luc's chair, Beverly eyed her suspiciously. Will
had mentioned a bet she'd never gotten to make good on, Will, Worf and
Geordi's beards against her being a brunette. "Don't I get to have any
secrets?"

"No, not really," she teased her back with a finger pointing out of
the comm screen. "I'm starved for gossip off the Enterprise."

"I don't follow the gossip when it's about me," Beverly sighed. Though
it had calmed now that the novelty of her, the captain and a baby, had
worn off. Maybe she'd been crazy to think having another child was a
good idea. She hadn't been thinking clearly at the time, but in her
experience, few people were when they became parents. When Wes was
small, she had Jack to share her burden, though not all of the time.
This time she had Jean-Luc and because of the Enterprise, a much more
equitable parental workload. Thinking of him made her smile, and
Beverly ran her hand along her belly.

Bringing her thoughts back to the present, she searched Deanna's face
for the thought lingering behind her dark eyes. "You should take the
bridge officer's test, if you're thinking about it. You have the time
on Earth, don't you?"

"Nothing but," Deanna sighed again, heavily. "You know, when I was on
the Enterprise, I longed for the chance to do research, or write a
paper. I spent so much time in the practice that I thought I'd let my
intellectual muscles go."

Beverly nodded in understanding. She'd had similar moments. Once she
was finally done with all the bureaucracy of Starfleet Medical, she
was expected to publish and keep up with the glut of papers in the
endless number of Federation Medical journals each month. She liked
research, even missed it when she was too busy on the Enterprise to
keep up with what was being published, but the bureaucracy of all of
that exhausted her.

"Staying out of the paperwork?" she asked, lifting one of the PADDs
and glancing across the title. "How is the psychology division?
Admiral Sunxeris still giving everyone a hard time?"

Deanna rolled her eyes. "Admiral Sunxeris seems to believe that the
primary purpose of counselors is to file reports on the welfare of the
crew. It took me three weeks just to finish my exit analysis of
everyone about the Enterprise."

"Take the bridge officer's test," Beverly suggested with a sympathetic
smile. "A few holographic crises might be a welcome escape from
paperwork."

"I'll bring it up with Will," Deanna said, but Beverly could tell
she'd already decided to take it.

"One stint in the captain's chair is never enough," she teased and
glanced down at the time on the bottom of her communiqué. She could
never find time to have a conversation on the alpha shift. The quiet
of the Enterprise at night it was precisely one of the reasons she
loved the gamma shift. "I thought you'd be back."

"I'll let you know how it goes," Deanna agreed with a begrudging
smile. She appreciated the support, but she had to fight against the
teasing a little. "Give the captain our best."

"Of course," Beverly promised, then gave in to the smirk she'd been
hiding. "Tell Will four pips make his neck look sleeker."

"They really do, don't they?" Deanna agreed, chuckling a little. "He's
very happy."

Setting down the PADD she wasn't paying attention to, Beverly grinned
at the screen. "As are you, it appears."

"The move has been good for us both," she explained, leaning back in
her chair and glancing over at the sunshine. "It really has given us
time to explore what we really want from our lives."

The pause was enough for Beverly to have inserted 'together', but she
settled on a knowing smile and a nod. "Let us know how it goes."

"The test?" Deanna asked, feigning innocence.

"Of course," Beverly replied. Her sarcasm made Deanna break into
another smile. "That's what I want to hear about. Not how moving to
Earth with Will has changed your relationship, or what it's like being
so close to your mother and his father...or if you've thought about
the gamete resequencing analysis I sent to Starfleet Medical for you.
By all means, tell me about the test."

Deanna's huge dark eyes echoed with old pain for a moment, but being
teased dragged her out of it and she surrendered. "Will and are
talking about our relationship."

"You don't have to tell me everything, just think about it."

Leaning closer to the screen, Deanna folded her hands in front of it
and narrowed her eyebrows in mock suspicion. "What is it about the
newly married that makes them think they can recommend it for everyone
else?"

"Rampant conceit," Beverly quipped. "Write me?"

Deanna's head bobbed in agreement. "Will still wants to see baby
pictures."

"She's still skinny, only has a tiny amount of hair and her skin's all
wrinkled," Beverly said, smiling. When Will realised that his demands
for baby pictures were met without protest, he'd been regularly
curious about baby Picard's development. "She should start putting on
weight now."

"I bet that's wonderful for you," Deanna said sympathetically. "What's
another few kilograms?"

Beverly chuckled dryly and wished she had another way to sit in her
chair. She missed being able to pull up her legs and her hips were
sore. "Say that while you can see your feet."

"You look beautiful," Deanna cooed as Beverly rolled her eyes. "Don't
make me tell you what the captain was thinking when you got married."

"I'm going back to the bridge," Beverly retorted, smiling anyway. "I
believe there's work I should be watching people do, counselor"

"Good night, sir."

Beverly's hand however over the panel, ready to end the transmission.
"Not for much longer?"

"We'll see," Deanna ended with a mysterious smile. "Troi out."

The familiar symbol of the Federation replaced Deanna's face, and
Beverly leaned back in her chair. Calling up her medical file and
forwarding a picture of the last three dimensional scan of the baby to
Captain Riker, she picked up the paperwork she'd set down when
Deanna's message had arrived. Filling the last shift report, she
slowly left Jean-Luc's chair and returned to the command chair on the
bridge.

One of the perks of being in command was definitely the chair, she
thought as she took it. Not only did it have the best view of the
bridge, but it was possibly the most comfortable chair on the ship.
The viewscreen still displayed the starlines of warp, and everything
seemed to be in order.

Ensign Ranier waited for her to be seated before he reported.
"Commander," he began, "there's been no response from Commander Data
to our signal. He may not have our updated time of arrival."

Beverly sighed and crossed her arms thoughtfully. She had hoped the
radiation from the probe fragments wouldn't interfere with
communications, but it seemed that Geordi had been right. "Keep
sending him updates on our schedule."

"Aye, Sir."

Settling into the chair, she called up the endless list of diagnostics
and training exercises she could run through and started scrolling.
"Ensign, let's run that phaser diagnostic that we've been putting off.
Take the main and secondary arrays offline and begin. I doubt anyone's
going to attack us at warp and alpha shift will be all surprised if we
get their work done for them."

"Aye, Sir," Ranier's tone was even when he replied, but she could see
the ensign at the helm smiling. It was always an easier shift when
everyone was in a good mood.

What was her name again? "Ensign Turner," that was it, Beverly
remembered. The perky young pilot had one of the regional accents
still found in humans. Most of the human crew spoke unaccented
Standard, but like her husband, a few of the crew still had different
pronunciations.

"Yes, Commander?" the young woman turned around in her chair, ready
for instructions.

"Main Engineering has scheduled a test of the inertial dampeners. I'm
going to need you to drop us in and out of warp, varying our speed and
trajectory but still keeping us on course to Barkon Four. Seem like a
fair challenge?"

The young woman nodded her head briskly and Beverly bit back a smile.
There was something about the exuberance of young officers that made
them a pleasure to serve with.

"Of course, Sir. No problem," Ensign Turner replied, turning back to
her console. "You shouldn't feel a thing."

"Good," Beverly replied with a nod. "My balance isn't what it used to
be."

Ensign Swanson at operations smirked a little and Beverly ran through
the possible tasks she could assign her. She had the phasers and
inertial dampeners, what else. . .

"Ensign Swanson," she began, putting the idea together in her head.
"I'd also like to run a few surprise medical drills. Please inform the
duty officer in sickbay and start sending alerts at random. Use the
Jefferies tubes and other hard to reach areas. Make them work for it."

Swanson's smirk reached her eyes. Beverly suspected she'd enjoy making
things difficult for the medical teams. "Aye, sir."

---

Beverly focused so much when she was working that he was fairly sure
she'd forgotten he was there. Jean-Luc sat on the edge of the biobed
and tried to hold perfectly still. She'd been drawing on the brown
pattern the Barkonians naturally had on their foreheads. Across
sickbay, he could see Doctor El-Ibim working a similar pattern into
Janeway's hairline. If Beverly hadn't been too pregnant to send on an
away team that required a corset, he would have sent the two of them.

Beverly had wanted to perform his cosmetic surgery, and he loved the
excuse to watch her work. She rolled her hips a little, almost as if
she was dancing in place, and he wondered if she noticed it. She moved
more than she had a few months ago. Her belly continued to grow and
she had moments where she was uncomfortable more often than she had
before.

She put her hand on his chin and turned his head. Beverly hushed him
when he tried to speak and turned his head in the other direction.
Setting down the dermal regenerator, she nodded appreciatively. "I
think you're done."

"Thank you," he murmured, smiling at her as she continued staring at
her work.

"Next time I'm sitting and you're standing," she quipped, tilting his
head and finally deciding she was pleased. He followed her over to
check the modification of Kathryn's forehead, and rested his hand on
her lower back. Jean-Luc got half a smile from his wife before she
borrowed the dermal regenerator from Doctor El-Ibim and put the
finishing touches on it.

The junior doctor smiled, his teeth bright white against his dark
skin. He backed off and pointed towards the clothing one of the
anthropologists had brought down to sickbay. "I believe yours is the
green, sir."

Jean-Luc slid his hand up to Beverly's shoulder and squeezed it. "I've
heard I look good in green," he said loud enough for her to hear him.

"It's just that tight green shirt you wear riding," Beverly replied
curtly. "Not everything that's green."

"Too bad," he teased back. The outfit had a tight pair of leggings,
black boots, pantaloons, a shirt, a heavy brocade vest, a jacket and a
hat reminiscent of Earth's own Renaissance. He picked up all of it and
headed for one of the private examination rooms in the back of
sickbay.

He had his uniform jacket off and was pulling off his boots when
Beverly let herself in. She smirked at him and slid down against the
wall to the floor. Jean-Luc went to intervene, but she waved him off.

"I'm fine," she promised with a grin. "It's the getting up that's
hard."

He stripped off his trousers and lifted the leggings with a frown.
They were going to be tight and he hoped they weren't going to be
itchy.

"You'll never get those on over your shorts," Beverly quipped from the
floor.

He turned to face her and raised an eyebrow. "You believe so?"

She'd crossed her legs beneath her and with her arms balanced on her
belly, she resembled a fourth century Ulricarian fertility statue, but
he doubted she'd appreciate the comparison. His shorts were tight
enough to the skin that he thought he'd be able to wear the tights
over them, although just barely. It was possible she was just teasing
him. Beverly had been in an excellent mood for the last few days.

"How much leave do you have?" she asked innocently.

He stopped pulling his tights up and smiled at her. "More than I
should." He finished with his tights, which he had managed to fit over
his shorts, and slipped the undershirt over his head.

"I want to go to Betazed," Beverly announced while his head was still
beneath the fabric.

"On holiday?" he asked when his head popped through the neck of his
shirt.

"I think Will and Deanna are getting married," she explained.

He pulled on the green brocade pantaloons and eyed her critically as
he cinched his belt tight. "You know something I don't?"

"Perhaps," she teased back, inclining her head towards the rest of his
Barkonian costume. "I want to know we have the option, should they
decide to stop deluding themselves. Now, you'll need the vest and I
think I'm going to love that hat."

Shrugging into the vest, Jean-Luc grabbed the jacket and caught her
watching him. Her blue eyes were playful and she seemed completely
relaxed on the floor. "The last time I spoke to Will we discussed how
to make his first officer feel welcome and valuable. Something I
believe he will have no problem doing."

"Maybe he'll make her land Voyager on the Academy football field,"
Beverly joked. Jean-Luc had once made his first officer manually dock
the separated halves of the Enterprise, but he had just been testing
Will's knowledge of the ship. Will had every right to do the same.

He balanced the hat on his head, feeling every bit like an extra in
one of Data's holodeck plays.

Beverly shook her head and raised her hands to him. "Crooked," she
complained and waited for him to pull her to her feet. She groaned as
she stood and when they were finally eye to eye, she released his
hands and straightened his hat. "Much better."

Taking advantage of the privacy of the room, he kissed her. Beverly
let her hands stay on his shoulders. She sighed and relaxed, taking
her time to kiss him back. They paused, lazily standing together with
their arms around each other.

"Be careful down there," Beverly whispered to him.

"Of course," he promised, nuzzling her cheek. "It's a peaceful
culture. Janeway and I will take every precaution."

She ran a finger along his nose and smiled. "Tell her to keep the
Barkonian women away from you," she said. "I expect you to come back
to me. No matter how good you might look in green."

Chuckling, Jean-Luc kissed her soft lips before he replied. "Now I
look good in all green?"

"Maybe this green," she decided playfully. Beverly kissed him lightly,
pulling him even closer. "I love you," she whispered before she pulled
back. Her hands were a gentle weight on his chest before she sighed
and backed away. "You have a mission to go on."

"I love you too, and Beverly, I'll be back," he assured her again,
lifting her hands with his and holding them close. "We only have to
find Data. How hard can that be? He'll stick out like a sore thumb."

"We didn't even send him with a hat," she agreed, kissing him one more
time. "Certainly not one as dashing as yours." She stopped and
adjusted the cowl of fabric hanging down from his round, brocade and
brown satin hat.

Janeway was dressed and ready by the time Jean-Luc emerged from the
examination room. Beverly kept her grip on his hand for a moment, then
released it.

"Ready, Captain?" Janeway asked, smoothing her long, full skirt. She
wore a thick green ribbon twined into her hair, and the cut of her
bodice dipped low over her chest. She stood stiffly at attention,
presumably from the corset Beverly had avoided wearing due her
pregnancy. She ran her hands down her sides and frowned. "I think
you're the lucky one, Doctor."

Beverly smirked. "You can take yours off," she retorted. "Now, if
you'll excuse me, I believe someone has left me in charge of the
ship."

He had to smile. With Data off the ship and the captain and first
officer leaving, he'd put her in command during the away team's
mission. Jean-Luc watched her go. Pregnancy had done little to detract
from her natural grace; though her movements were slower there was
still a poetry to them.

If Janeway noticed his distraction she said nothing and fell into step
alongside him as they walked down towards the turbolift. She tucked
her tricorder and phaser into the pockets of her long skirts with her
commbadge. His own were hidden deep in his own clothing and he was
eased by their presence. They took the transporter pad and nodded to
the technician.

"Energise," Jean-Luc ordered, and the Enterprise faded away behind the
light of the transporter effect. His vision faded to black, then
returned to a sunny afternoon on Barkon Four. They appeared in a
clearing with sandy soil beneath their feet and tall, leafy trees
above them. Far above the trees, beyond the atmosphere of the world,
the Enterprise waited for them to find their way home.

Janeway folded her hands neatly in front of her, inclining her head
towards down the hill. "Shall we?" she suggested.

"By all means." The soil and leaves beneath their feet made soft
sounds, and the trees rustled around them. Barkon Four was a quiet
place, pre-industrial, and without the hum of technology that could be
heard approaching a city on one of the Federation worlds. Sometimes he
missed the quiet.

It was late summer, and the air had a hint of autumn in it. Jean-Luc
was studying the leaves overhead, keeping step evenly with Janeway,
when he realised she was smiling at him. "Something on your mind,
Number One?"

"I was wondering what it's like not to go on every away team, sir,"
she answered, smiling serenely at him.

"Every once in awhile, a captain may have the privilege of leaving her
ship," he replied. "I found the change one of the most difficult parts
to adapt to when I was promoted. Instead of having the duty of action,
the captain has the more trying duty of waiting. Keeping herself out
of harm's way because the good of the crew is directly dependent on
her well-being."

The woods opened up to a snaking path, and he offered his arm politely
to her as they made their way into the village. Janeway covertly
checked her tricorder before tucking it back away.

"Data's signature is in the north of the village, somewhere past the
square" she reported before smirking and taking his arm. She moved her
free hand while she talked, and as they continued he found her quite
vivacious. "It is true then, the first three pips are light, but that
fourth one weighs as much as a starship."

He chuckled dryly, remembering similar axioms of leadership when he
was advancing up the ranks. "If not more," Jean-Luc agreed.

She seemed brighter than before, more focused now that she was free of
Ronin's influence. Jean-Luc hadn't noticed it at the time, but now he
could see the difference. A level of restraint was gone from her
bearing. He spent a moment searching for pain in her eyes, but the
light remained. Her gentle smile had wit behind it, and he was pleased
to have the moment to speak with her.

"But you share that weight, don't you?" Janeway guessed, smiling at
him more broadly as they entered the village. People moved around
them, nodding in welcome, but two travellers in a city market were an
unremarkable sight and not worth much notice. The marketplace was
busy, with voices and the sounds of carts and coins all around them.
Small, modest buildings of stone and wood flanked the street. It was a
pleasant, lively place full of healthy, well-mannered people. He
wondered what this village would become, centuries from now. Would
they ever reach for the stars? Would plague and war stop them first or
would they eventually reach out towards the unknown?

"I'd say a captain shares the weight of his position with all of his
crew," he answered softly, lifting up a piece of pottery and studying
the glazing. It was well made but simple. The bowl reminded him of
something he might find on a dig site, somewhere across the galaxy on
a world that was thousands of years different in its history. He put
it back, moving on towards the north end of town.

Janeway drifted back to him, waving off the opportunity to buy some
earthy smelling vegetables at a very special price. She took his arm
again, leaning close to whisper to him. "You are famous for keeping
your senior staff longer than anyone else in the fleet," she said,
heading down towards the end of the rough stone street.

"I've been lucky," he answered. Lifting a farm rake, he set it down in
favour of a broom. Putting that down again, he found Janeway's eyes
still on him. Brushing his hands against his thighs, he turned to her.
"Are we speaking of one of my staff in particular?"

She wound her arm around his back and pointed at a simple stone spire
at the end of the street, lowering her eyes and her voice, she
whispered, "There is a metal signature approximately the size of Data
buried at the end of the street." She pulled away, moving a step or
two ahead of him. "The answer to your question is perhaps I was. I
find myself owing a great debt to your wife."

"A position I find myself in regularly," Jean-Luc replied as they came
to a halt in front of the monument.

Janeway glanced carefully around and retrieved her tricorder from her
pocket. She scanned the ground quickly before hiding the tricorder
away again. "Data is under the earth here about two meters down and
currently deactivated. The probe fragments seem to be buried with
him."

Jean-Luc tapped the commbadge hidden in his vest. "Picard to
Enterprise, we've found Commander Data. Connect with Commander
Janeway's tricorder for his coordinates."

"Acknowledged, Captain," Beverly's voice answered. The fact that it
was her made him smile. "We'll beam him and the probe fragments
aboard."

"Thank you, Enterprise," he answered.

Janeway dropped to her knees, on the pretext of fixing the laces of
her shoe. Her tricorder appeared again, then vanished back into her
skirt. She brushed her hands clean and returned to his side. "There is
no contamination of the water table, sir," she reported.

"What do you think happened here?" he asked, contemplating the idea as
he examined the monument. "Seems that Mr. Data left an impression."

"Perhaps he can tell us," Janeway answered, turning her gaze back up
towards the hill and the setting sun behind it. "Shall we?"

"Indeed," he agreed, relieved that it had been as simple as it was. No
one in the village would even remember their presence by the end of
the day and the Barkonians would continue on whatever course fate had
laid out for them, uninhibited by their brush with the larger
universe.

As they made their way out of the village, he watched the sun stream
golden through the trees around them and took in the sweet, dry air of
the forest. He'd enjoyed the reprieve. The simple missions gave him
chances he had to reflect that did not come often. Watching Janeway
following the path just ahead of him, he wondered how their
relationship would develop.

It had taken him a long time to warm to Will, Jean-Luc remembered.
Even though Will was a competent, brilliant officer and a charming,
loyal friend, he hadn't been ready to be close to anyone under his
command when he'd taken the Enterprise. Connecting with his Number
One, learning to trust Deanna, finding ways to guide Data towards
humanity, learning Geordi's genius, and understanding Worf's strength
and dedication - it only came once he was willing to trust his crew.

It had taken years to build those relationships. Once he'd been young
and had all the time in the universe to make friends and fall in love.
Once he'd met Beverly, he'd let the latter go, and drifted. It was not
difficult to find women who intrigued him, he even cared for them, but
they weren't her. He'd wasted years that he could have spent with her
and now that he knew how happy he was with her, he occasionally felt
quite the fool for not pursuing her sooner.

"Might I offer you a piece of advice?" Jean-Luc ventured after the
silence between them had continued for some time. "It's something I
should have listened to a long time ago, but it may be of benefit to
you now."

"Oh?" Janeway bunched up her skirts to make her way over a fallen tree
and waited for him patiently. Her blue eyes had a great deal of
intelligence behind them. "I'm listening, Captain."

"I know things between you and your fiancé finished poorly," Jean-Luc
said politely.

Janeway looked away, losing herself in the trees. When she brought her
gaze back, her eyes were haunted once more with grief. She nodded and
her lips turned upward in a bitter smile. "You might say that."

Halting his stride and turning to her, he wished he could do more to
ease the pain she carried. "I know this may bring you little comfort
now," he began gently. Giving relationship advice was not his forte.
"In my experience, it is worth waiting for a partner who supports you
completely. Someone who gives balance to your existence. No matter
which assignment you draw, or what may befall you."

"Even becoming possessed by a plasma based entity claiming to be a
Scottish ghost?" Janeway quipped, stiffening even as she continued to
smile. Ronin had hurt her and the guilt was still with her.
Endangering those around her was a terrible burden, and he knew too
well what it was like to lose himself to something more powerful
within his mind.

"Even that," he sighed. Touching her shoulder was almost too forward,
but he didn't want to need years to get to know Janeway. He could
command and be caring towards his crew, without doing harm to either
intention. He'd learned that over the years. "I can't promise you that
an excellent partner will be easy to find."

Janeway brightened under his touch and pointed up the hill towards
their beam out site. "Are you saying that it will be worth the hunt?"

"That is what brings us out here, isn't it?" he remarked, cheerfully
walking up the last of the hill. "The promise of the unknown."

"Even in relationships," Janeway sighed, putting on a suffering look
as she took a last glance around the forest. "Perhaps my next
relationship will involve someone slightly less unknown than the far
reaches of the galaxy."

Jean-Luc chuckled as she retrieved her commbadge to call for
transport. "I wish you the best of luck, Number One."

---
Genesis
---

"Jean-Luc!" she called from the living room.

Leaving the washroom with his towel still around his neck, he must
have looked panicked because Beverly began to laugh at him as soon as
she saw him.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Beverly reached for his hand without getting up from
the sofa. She had one arm wrapped around her belly and the other
clutched a PADD. "It was more of a 'Jean-Luc this is wonderful' than a
'Jean-Luc rush over here right now.'"

He crouched next to her, kissing the firm curve of her belly. "Making
fun of my concerns is very thoughtful of you."

"I wouldn't have to poke fun at your concerns if you saved them for
next month." Beverly tugged his sleeve, pulling him closer to her.
When he was near enough, he kissed her.

"Wesley's coming to visit. He just sent a request for transport and
he's bringing a surprise guest. Someone who's always wanted to visit
the Enterprise, watching his uncle on a mission."

Jean-Luc snatched the PADD from her hand and read Wesley's communiqué
in surprise. "My brother agreed to let him travel across the
quadrant?"

"Apparently so," Beverly reported, beaming. "Isn't it wonderful?"

Squeezing her hand, he released it to stroke her belly. Beneath her
skin and muscle, their daughter slept. He could feel her, and he loved
knowing she was there.

"We're on a simple survey mission along the demilitarised zone. I
doubt it'll be that interesting."

Beverly smirked at him, resting her hand on his shoulder. "Wasn't
everything exciting when you were sixteen?"

"He did just have another birthday, didn't he?" Jean-Luc shook his
head, then addressed her belly instead of her. "You don't need to grow
up as fast as your cousin. Feel free to take all the time you want."

"Wesley says René's already starting his application to the Academy.
Down near the bottom."

"My brother must love that." He put the PADD aside and gave her his
full attention. "I'll put in a request for guest quarters. Maybe I can
get them a window."

"René would love that." Beverly's cool hand brushed across his cheek.
"He loves everything about his nephew's ship."

"I would have been the same at his age." He turned his face into her
hand and kissed her palm before holding her hand close to his chest.
"Starships were this incredible dream when I was a boy. I'd stay up
late reading about them under the covers with an emergency light."

"Now you read reports about starships instead. You haven't grown up at
all." Beverly watched him and a smile crept slowly over her face. She
took her hand back from his grasp, stretching slowly. She narrowed her
eyes a little when she shifted her weight and rolled onto her side.
Her smile remained, even though her frustration crept into her face
for a moment.

"Sore?" Jean-Luc ran his hand up around her hip and gently across her
lower back.

"It's not bad," she promised. Her sigh when he dug his fingers into
the taut muscles along her spine made him question her word but he
didn't push her. Beverly told him when she was uncomfortable most of
the time. "Better than yesterday." She kissed his forehead, then
frowned at him sleepily. "I have to get up."

Getting to his feet, he lowered his hands to her. Beverly had put on a
few more kilograms in the last month and she'd started to be more
uncomfortable. She let him take a lot of her weight as she stood and
her fingers dug deeply into his arms. Between them, her belly was huge
and he held her as close as he could.

Beverly sighed contentedly, dropping her head to his chest. H lowered
his chin to rest on her shoulder, the scent of her hair sweet and
familiar. She rocked on her feet, shifting her weight in tiny
increments until she'd worked out the kink in the base of her spine.

"Are you all right?"

Beverly nodded, but that familiar wrinkle was wedged into the normally
smooth skin between her eyebrows. She was tired- he could see that in
her eyes- and whether it was her hips, lower back or the ankle that
had been bothering her, something hurt. "I'm fine."

"You shouldn't read so much late at night," he chided, guiding her
slowly towards the bedroom. When Beverly was tired she would actually
lean on him, and being able to support her was deeply important to
him.

"Says the boy who used to read underneath his covers," she teased.
Beverly kissed his cheek and disappeared into the washroom. Jean-Luc
heard the sonic shower switch on and followed her in to finish
shaving.

She grinned and tossed a damp wash cloth at him over the glass. "No
peeking."

Jean-Luc couldn't help laughing back at her over the hum of the
shower. "But I love seeing you naked."

"Just don't cut yourself while you're doing it." Beverly ran her
fingers through her hair and let the sonic pulses lift the dirt out of
it. Red gold tresses slipped through her fingers and he stopped
running the razor along his jawline.

He set it down on the shelf in front of the mirror. Shaving could wait
until she was done. Beverly's eyes were closed and her hands rested on
her chest. He watched her smile gently warm her face and forgot about
all the cares he had. Jean-Luc had her, and that was what mattered.

"If you can concentrate long enough to finish, I'll let you come in
and join me," Beverly teased him, letting her hands drop away from her
breasts to give him a better view.

Chuckling, he picked up the razor and made two quick swipes of the
stubble on his neck. "I do have an excellent surgeon."

Beverly opened an eye towards him and the corner of her mouth quirked
up. "That you do, but she'd rather spend the rest of the evening with
her husband."

Shaking his head while he cleaned the blade, Jean-Luc got the last two
patches on the skin of his jaw and checked his face in the mirror.

"By your left ear," Beverly suggested. "You miss that occasionally."

"Thank you," he replied lazily, feeling the wet, slick skin of his
face up towards his ear. To his amusement, there was stubble there.
Shaving it neatly away, he ran his fingers over the rest of his face
until he was satisfied. Stripping off his clothes, he stepped up into
the shower with her.

"You just left your uniform on the floor," Beverly chided him, pushing
off the wall and wrapping her arms around his neck. She kissed him,
filling his mind lust. He'd gone for long periods of time without sex
before he'd become involved with her. Now it was hard to go a few days
and luckily, once the nausea was over, Beverly's pregnancy had been
easy enough to allow it.

"I'll get it later." Kissing down her neck, Jean-Luc felt her hands
chase the pulses of the sonic shower down his bare back.

"You mean in the morning," she sighed, tilting her head to allow him
better access to the long line of her neck. One of her hands slid down
his stomach towards his cock. Though it had been soft, it began to
harden within her gentle fingers. "I have other plans for you
tonight."

Still kissing her as he shut off the shower and backed out of it,
Jean-Luc kicked his uniform out of her way and let her slowly follow
him towards the bed. The more traditional positions were impossible at
the moment, and she pulled him towards her back as she lay down.

With his hand on her breast, Jean-Luc spooned up behind her. The firm
curve of her butt pressed against his stomach and his thigh was
against the back of hers. She bent her knee, slowly allowing him more
access. She was wet to his fingers, and he heard the little hitch in
her breath as he parted her labia. The hot, smooth flesh easily
accepted his fingers as he thrust them up. Her gasp of pleasure
stiffened his cock and she reached around to tease him harder.

Dancing his wet fingers across her clit, he kissed the back of her
neck. Beverly's breathing quickened with his own and he felt her lower
her head.

"Jean-Luc-" she moaned invitingly. "I-I want you."

Shifting down in the bed, he held his aching cock in his hand before
he guided it in. The wet, tight heat of her swallowed him up. He
sighed into the smooth skin of her back. Beverly's hand covered his on
her breast and they kneaded it to her chest together. Changing the
angle of his hips thrust him in deeper.

Thrusting into her from behind, their legs entwined, Jean-Luc found a
slow, steady rhythm. Beverly chased his fingers away from her clit and
drew his hand up to her breast. "Wait," she murmured. "I'll be done
too quickly."

He kissed the back of her arm, then pulled her closer to him. He
didn't need to tell her that there was no need for a marathon. She was
beautiful, warm and soft, and just being within her was maddeningly
intimate. She rocked back to meet him, letting him sink his fingers
into the swollen flesh of her breasts. He loved the feel of them in
his palms; she was terribly indulgent with him and let him play as
long as he was gentle.

Beverly came softly, arching her back and sighing blissfully. Speeding
up to catch her, Jean-Luc gasped, then came when she tightened around
him and pulled him in. Releasing within her, he relaxed slowly,
catching his breath as his heart slowed back down.

Beverly lifted his hand to her lips and kissed it sweetly. Running a
finger down her nose, he tapped it once on on the tip and then sat up
to kiss her properly. She rolled onto her back, cupping his face as
she kissed him.

"There you are," she whispered, smiling.

"I love you," he replied, kissing her forehead sweetly.

When she was content, she returned to her side and he pulled the
sheets over them both. His hand fit naturally between her breasts and
her belly and Beverly set it there lovingly. Her fingers traced
patterns along his arm, slowing as she relaxed even more.

"Are you asleep yet?" Her tone was playful, even light. She was often
wide awake after making love and he'd attempted to adjust accordingly.

He nuzzled her shoulder. The soft, warm skin felt glorious against his
cheek. "No."

She sighed contentedly and squeezed his wrist in response. "We need to
start talking about delivery."

Jean-Luc wouldn't have naturally jumped to that subject from making
love, but he was adaptable. He tapped his fingers lightly against her
belly, then settled back down. "What do you need?"

"You, provided the Enterprise will allow me." The quiet confidence in
her voice was mixed with just enough desire that his heart melted in
his chest.

"I have a first officer for that," he promised and he felt her giggle
a little.

"Did you tell Kathryn that's why she's on the Enterprise?"

Jean-Luc mocked seriousness. "I believe it was in our initial
interview. Commander Janeway, at some point my wife, whom I love
beyond reason, will go into labour and the Enterprise will be yours
for all of that time and at least a week afterwards."

"I'm going to ask her," Beverly insisted, laughing. "And if you didn't
use that exact wording..." She held his arms a little closer when she
stopped. "I would rather have you with me."

"And I'll be there. Beverly, I wouldn't miss the birth of our
daughter...not if there's anything I can do to be there."

"I know." She ran her hand reassuringly down his arm. "It's not
glamorous and it's always a little messier than the emergency medical
simulation."

"We have an excellent sonic shower."

Her chest trembled with soft laughter. "We do."

He could tell she was thinking by the way she continued to stroke his
arm. Being a doctor, she had to reconcile what she knew medically with
what she needed emotionally.

"You were there for Wesley."

Jean-Luc had been there, summoned by his best friend. Though his
presence had been more about making up for Jack's last minute absence
than due to any skill that would be useful during the trial of labour.
He'd felt more like an observer than anyone who belonged. It had
almost been easier when, after several hours of labour, Beverly had
started ignoring everyone. Which, according to the staff around them,
was entirely normal. He'd sat there, just within reach, and listened
to her pant and moan and sink deeper into some other place. Only when
she'd started pushing, had she seen him. Then the nurse, who knew
Beverly from the Starfleet Medical, had explained to him how to
support Beverly through pushing while the nurses guided Wesley down
and out.

"I only held your hand." Then he'd held Wesley, telling the little boy
about his father while he'd wished in the darkest part of his soul
that the child was his. He'd loved Jack as a brother, but he'd loved
Beverly too. Holding Wesley and being the one to take Jack's place at
his birth had nearly destroyed him. He'd been terribly lucky that both
of his friends had no idea.

Beverly rolled over and he shifted his legs so her belly could fit
between them. Her cool thigh rested against his and Jean-Luc moved his
hand to her chest. "Other than Wesley...you're the only thing I
remember clearly."

"There was a time where you were somewhere else," Jean-Luc admitted.
His memories of Wesley's birth had been all too vivid for many years,
but now, awaiting his own child, they'd turned fuzzy.

"I can't say I remember much," she replied. Her forehead was up
against his on the pillow, then she lifted her head to kiss him.
Beverly's blue eyes were soft and old emotions had risen up near the
surface. "I remember being terribly angry with Jack, and being
stubborn. And you...you were-"

"Mostly superfluous."

Her eyes widened in surprise. Beverly shook her head quickly. The
gratitude in her smile, even after all these years, really surprised
him. "No, not at all. You gave me someone to talk to. A familiar voice
to translate what the nurse was saying."

He rubbed the corner of her mouth with his thumb. "I never understood
why you listened to me when you wouldn't listen to the nurses. I
wasn't your husband."

"You were so calm."

"I was a mess. . ." When he started to laugh, she playfully slapped his
shoulder.

Beverly sat up and kissed the spot she'd just smacked "Jean-Luc, I
will never understand how you can project your calm so well and be so
terrible at poker."

Wounded, he held her fingers captive against his chest. "I'm not
terrible at poker."

"Worf saw through your bluff-"

"He's a master of interrogation."

"If I hadn't won the next hand, we would have had to name our daughter
Maylota after Worf's favourite opera-"

"It goes well with Picard-"

Beverly was still laughing when she kissed him. She held the kiss a
long time, surprising him with the intimacy of it. "I love you."

He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. "I love you too. Even
if you ignore me for hours in labour and ruin my favourite uniform."

She rested her hand over his heart, letting her eyes close sleepily.
"Your uniforms are identical."

"To you, perhaps," he teased. Jean-Luc spread his fingers over the
smooth flesh of her belly, and their daughter moved gently beneath his
hand.

"Don't wake her," Beverly begged, yawning. "She'll try to do
somersaults all night and she's starting to run out of room down
there."

"Shhhh," he whispered to their daughter. "Your mother needs to sleep.
If you would like a Klingon name, we can discuss it later."

Beverly's lips quirked into a wry smile and he continued speaking.

"There are a number of Vulcan names I've always liked," Jean-Luc said,
contemplating his choices. "Captain Saavik is an officer I admire very
much. T'Vala. Sorinna-"

"You can't give her a Romulan name."

Kissing the tip of her nose, Jean-Luc smiled at her closed eyelids.
"Is that a Howard tradition?"

"It has to be something other people can pronounce. Not Gwynhwyfar,
Q'liqcurq, Yseult, Xiaoqiu, Yaxyezera or...Anne."

"Anne?"

"It's boring."

"Fair enough," he agreed, grinning at her. "Little One, your mother
would like your name to be something simple-"

"Not boring."

Jean-Luc watched in amazement as the outline of a foot appeared in the
skin near his hand. Beverly's eyebrows furrowed a little but her smile
remained. "I'm sure we'll think of something."

Beverly squeezed his arm, remembering something important. "Remind me
to give you the delivery texts for new fathers."

"Selar did, three days ago," he soothed. He'd read, then reread the
entire text before he'd luckily been called to the bridge and spared
his slight nausea at the diagrams and medical pictures. "She suggested
I try a more advanced holographic simulation."

Beverly's eyelids fluttered open and concern took the half-smile from
her face. "Nothing with complications," she ordered.

Jean-Luc recognised fear in the set of her lips and lifted her hand to
his mouth to reassure her. "I don't believe she suggested anything
with complications."

"The computer will run the probabilities of a complication and create
one if the equations call for it," she paused, her eyes never leaving
his. "I don't want you to worry."

"Beverly-"

"Some routine complications can be terrifying." The sudden brightness
of her eyes was real fear and he immediately raised his hand to her
cheek. "Haemorrhage-"

"Hey." Jean-Luc kissed her hand again, then her cheek and finally her
forehead. "I'm not going to panic because I see a little blood in the
holodeck. I love you and you have to trust me."

Her expression was still taut with concern and she wasn't letting it
go. "I don't want you to worry about me. Childbirth is very rarely
dangerous-"

"Shhhh...I'm not worried. I'm married to the best doctor I know, and
she has a very excellent staff. It is the flagship after all." He
kissed her again, this time leaving her face very close to his. His
view of her blurred but her grip on his arm relaxed. "We'll be fine.
Everything's going to be fine."

---

"I never make it to any of my physicals on time," Kathryn admitted
ruefully as she pulled herself up on the biobed. "I think I missed two
altogether on the Billings."

"Three," Beverly corrected, glaring at her mildly over her tricorder.
"You won't be missing any on the Enterprise. We're the flagship; we
set a higher standard."

"Of course, Doctor," Kathryn agreed, chagrinned. She folded her hands
in her lap and tried to stare at the replicator in hopes of a cup of
coffee. Would she be allowed one during her physical?

She'd almost forgotten and raced down from the bridge after leaving
Worf in charge because Beverly was doing her physical personally.
Standing up the chief medical officer, the best opportunity she had
for a friend in a long time, and who just happened to be eight months
pregnant and married to the captain, would be ill-advised to the point
of banishing her to the doghouse. Kathryn knew that.

How Beverly managed to so efficiently, yet so genially, manage her
sickbay was impressive. Her nurses actually smiled at her. Some of
them even smiled at Kathryn, who was definitely out of her element.
The Billings CMO had been a grumpy Tellarite holdover from a previous
age who believed that anyone not from her department was just taking
advantage of her begrudging good will by expecting her to heal them.

"What did you eat for breakfast?" Beverly asked, setting down her
tricorder and folding her arms over the swell of her belly.

"I don't remember," Kathryn tried to dodge the question. She'd had two
cups of coffee before she'd gotten Captain Picard's summons to his
ready room. She'd been so busy on the bridge afterwards that she'd
forgotten to eat anything else until lunch.

"Captain Picard will be away for the next few days, hunting Worf's
renegade torpedo in a shuttlecraft," Beverly said, smiling even though
she rolled her eyes. "Once a pilot..."

"Always a pilot," Kathryn agreed with a grin. "I didn't know he was
such-"

"Amongst other numerous and charming character traits," Beverly
replied. "My husband dreams of flying in a bygone era where shuttles
were held together by string and the collective goodwill of their
pilots." She tapped the controls above the bed and returned her hands
to her belly. "My quarters, 0600."

Kathryn looked at her in mild confusion. "Is something wrong?"

"Since you seem to be so terrible about eating breakfast, while my
husband is gone you'll eat with me," Beverly said calmly. The
authority in her voice made it impossible to refuse. "I hope you like
Vulcan."

One of Beverly's nurses, a petite, dark-haired woman with an engaging
smile interrupted politely. "Doctor, Lieutenant Barclay is here-"

The skin of Beverly's forehead immediately creased in annoyance. "What
does he have this time?"

"Rigelian Blood Fever, or Tilattaltican parasitic worms-" the nurse
rolled her eyes and Kathryn tried not to smile. "His temperature is
very slightly elevated. I believe he will listen best to you, Doctor."

"You're released, Kathryn, saved by the deathly ill," Beverly said,
adding the last in a low tone, trying to preserve Barclay's dignity.
"You'll be happy to know you're in excellent health."

Her sarcasm made the first officer smile. "Tomorrow then?"

"Don't be late," Beverly warned with a shake of her tricorder. "I wake
up starving."

Kathryn smiled and nodded, slipping off the bed on her way towards the
door. She caught a little of Beverly's patient explanation that no,
Lieutenant Barclay was not dying, and that contrary to his worries, he
was going to live a long healthy life. Still smiling as she headed
back to the bridge, Kathryn decided that while serving with Jean-Luc
Picard was an honour, serving with Doctor Picard was going to be fun.

---

"Is it just me, or does the security chief hate me already?" Kathryn
asked, sinking into the chair across from the replicator. It was a
little strange to have someone else in Jean-Luc's chair, but Beverly
wanted the company. She'd been wanting company all day yesterday.
Being in sickbay surrounded by her staff felt right, but as soon as
she'd been alone in their quarters, she'd felt off.

"You did have to tell him that his new torpedo guidance system still
isn't working, which meant that my husband had to go chasing a stray
torpedo half-way across the sector." Beverly set down a plate of
sausages in the middle of the table. They smelled particularly good,
as did the bacon and the still faintly bloody guhlat steak from Suszhi
Four. The pastries, which usually emerged from the replicator smelling
delicious, weren't that interesting. Jean-Luc would have given her a
hard time for avoiding the fruit and vegetables for meat and scrambled
eggs but they smelled incredible.

Kathryn pulled the salmon off her bagel and ate it delicately. She'd
used her fork at first, but Beverly didn't see the point for ceremony.
After she demolished a piece of bacon, eating with her fingers,
Kathryn gave up on her cutlery as well. It was more friendly that way.

"Is there more salmon?" Kathryn asked, looking over the table. Beverly
passed across the plate and watched in amusement as Kathryn pulled her
knees up into her chair and sat, with her hands wrapped around her
knees. She peeled smoked salmon from the bagel it had come replicated
on and set the bagel aside.

"The bread's off today, isn't it?" Beverly said. The sausages were
perfectly cooked and the spiced, slightly sweet meat nearly melted in
her mouth. "But these, these are excellent."

Kathryn lifted one from the serving plate and set it down on her own.
She licked her fingers daintily clean. She seemed far less interested
in the delicious sausage as she was in the salmon. When it was gone,
she leapt to her feet, pushing the chair back. "I'll get more."

Beverly waved her hand towards the now empty plate that had held the
guhlat steak. "More of that too, please."

Tilting her head thoughtfully, Kathryn regarded the plate. "You are
hungry, aren't you?"

Smiling as Kathryn set the plate down in front of her, Beverly took a
moment to stop chewing and nod. "I'm always hungry."

"Fair enough," she answered, smiling. "Might as well make the most of
it while you're still pregnant."

Pointing to the coffee, Beverly said, "I thought you loved it."

"I do," Kathryn replied, eyeing the coffee in confusion. "It doesn't
smell good today, does it?"

Beverly wiped her hands on a napkin, then reached for the coffee pot.
It smelled rich, of earth and spice. The smell was fascinating, but
she had no interest in drinking it. Just a few days ago, she
remembered jealousy smelling Jean-Luc's coffee and stealing a sip when
he wasn't looking. Then it was delicious, but now it seemed entirely
dull.

"It doesn't smell bad. Just doesn't smell like something I'd like to
drink," Beverly agreed, shrugging.

Across the table, Kathryn took a sip of her milk thoughtfully. "I
think you're entirely right."

---

With the recovered torpedo in the back of the shuttlecraft, Jean-Luc
flew back towards the rendezvous point. Data was realigning the
targeting mechanism Worf had designed trying to diagnose what had gone
wrong. It had been a quiet, pleasant trip. When he wasn't flying,
Jean-Luc caught up on his reading while Data used the sensors to
search for the torpedo.

The first night alone in a bunk without Beverly next to him had been
strange. He'd grown used to her shifting positions or pulling the
blankets on and off. He had no right to complain because he had no
idea what it was like to be pregnant. She rarely complained ,
considering all the things he'd noticed that she could certainly
mention. Her ankles weren't behaving and her lumbar vertebrae were a
mess. Her breasts were swollen, apparently worse than when she'd
carried Wesley, but she said very little.

Perhaps she'd use the break to bend Janeway's ear, or have one of her
surprisingly long subspace talks with Lwaxana Troi. He'd caught the
end of several, and the middle of some others. It seemed there were
few subjects the ambassador was not ready to converse on. Beverly was
happy, and maybe that, more than some sense of duty, made it easier
for her to smile through her discomfort.

He'd missed hearing her voice this morning. Beverly's hair hadn't been
tumbled over his chest and between his fingers when he woke up. She
was beautiful, especially partially dressed and pulling on her socks.
If Data had noticed how distracted his captain was, the android hadn't
decided it was worth commenting on. Data was excellent company, even
if he had asked several odd questions about parenthood over the past
few days.

She'd been easing him into things as best she could. Many of their
recent conversations included the baby's first few months of life and
the extra demands it would place on both of them. Scheduling how they
would drop her off and who would pick her up felt surreal. Discussing
a more flexible use of his time was one thing; imagining coming back
to their quarters to be with their daughter while Beverly ran a staff
meeting was something else. Beverly's duties were just as important as
his own, and in some respects, his were more flexible. Janeway could
assume more responsibilities. He could delegate more. It was entirely
possible that he could be a good husband, father and starship captain.

Wasn't it?

What would he do with a child? Yes, she would sleep much of the time
at first. Was he going to watch her the whole time? Would she like him
playing the flute? Could he read to her? Could he read reports while
she cried and refused to sleep? Jean-Luc frequently functioned on less
sleep than he should but parenting was a whole other level of concern.
How quickly would he learn to change a diaper?

Perhaps he was getting ahead of himself. He'd read three different
articles about childbirth and the detailed account in the last one had
left him a little queasy. Beverly understood what she was going to go
through but it was new to him.

Luckily, Data was entirely content with long silences and Jean-Luc's
wandering thoughts did nothing to offend the android.

"Captain," Data repeated in a polite attempt to draw his attention.

Jean-Luc finally heard him and looked over.

"Captain, the Enterprise is not at the rendezvous coordinates." Data's
hands flew over the panel. "I have located it within sensor range at
the edge of the asteroid field. It appears to be adrift."

"Adrift, Data?" His heart catapulted into the pit of his stomach.

Data turned his head sharply towards the captain. "Sir, I am reading
only back-up power signatures and autonomic energy outputs. Several
critical systems are running on secondary back-up far below
specifications. The crew must be incapacitated in some fashion or they
would have affected repairs."

"Life signs?" Beverly had to be all right. He had no room in his
universe for that kind of error.

"There are life signs, but the sensor readings are highly distorted. I
am unable to identify specific life forms." Data called up a diagram
of the Enterprise and tried to pin down his readings.

Docking with a drifting target was much more complicated than a
stationary one, but Jean-Luc was a well-qualified pilot. "Adjust our
axial stabilizers to match the attitude and rotation rate of the
Enterprise..."

Data complied quickly. They were that much closer to Beverly.

Jean-Luc took a breath and studied his ship, getting a feel for the
drift. "I'm going to dock the shuttle manually."

The interior of the Enterprise smelled like the Oborisk jungle and
sounded almost as foreboding. Strange calls echoed through the
corridors, as if the ship had turned wild in their absence. Data took
point, carefully pointing his flashlight ahead of them into the
darkness.

"I recommend you allow me to lead, sir," Data said. Jean-Luc nodded
his agreement as they listened to the strange animalistic cries
echoing through the dark. Data's tricorder beeped as he scanned. The
sound of the device was comforting in comparison with the cacophony
around them.

"There are large concentrations of life signs in the arboretum, in the
pool and in the cargo bays. I am reading vast differences in the
internal conditions of the ship. The environmental controls were
adjusted to a wide variety of settings before they went offline," Data
read from his tricorder. A cool wind cut through the corridor from the
left and mist swirled around their feet.

"Turbolifts?" Jean-Luc asked. It was a far reaching hope, but he did
need to know.

Data shook his head sharply. "I am afraid not, Captain." He pulled the
panel from the wall and peered down the Jefferies tube. Looking down
the tube in the darkness, Jean-Luc shivered instinctually.

"I will continue to go first, sir," Data suggested, starting to crawl
t the long vertical tunnel towards the bridge. Due to his android
strength, he could continue to study the tricorder as they went
without feeling the strain in his shoulder. Jean-Luc envied that.

They were halfway up deck four before he allowed himself to ask. "Can
you track Doctor Picard's comm signal?"

The android paused on the ladders ahead of him and reprogrammed his
tricorder. He cocked his head thoughtfully as the scan progressed.
"Not from here, captain. Perhaps if I interface directly with a
computer terminal on the bridge or in engineering."

Jean-Luc nodded and continued to climb. As much as he loved his wife
and daughter, the ship had to come first. If he was fortunate, putting
the ship to rights would lead to having Beverly safe again. He hadn't
had her to risk last year. Though he'd loved her for decades, she had
only been part of his life for the last six months. Sharing their
meals, the quiet at the end of their days, and their bed was more
intimate than the Jean-Luc of last year could ever have imagined
having. No matter the fear solidly trapped in the pit of his stomach,
he would never trade the love that created it. The extraordinary
vulnerability of having a family was worth every stab of fear.

"Thank you, Data," he said, smiling up at him. Data wouldn't
emotionally appreciate the gesture, but he'd understand its meaning.

Data continued scanning as they made their way up. "Many of the life
signs I am reading are the size of large animals. All resemble the
size of the average humanoid crewmember," Data continued as they
climbed.

In the dark Jefferies tube, the sound of the creatures around them,
none of which they'd actually seen, grew more ominous. Beverly was
normally well equipped to defend herself, but pregnancy had made her
more vulnerable. Jean-Luc couldn't chase the icy terror that held his
stomach. His palms were? slowly covered in cold sweat as he climbed
the metal rungs.

"I am unable to find evidence of anyone unaffected," Data reported,
his vaguely apologetic tone suggesting there was something else.

"What have they been affected by, Data?" Somehow Jean-Luc asked the
question calmly, even though his knees were stiff with worry.

"An airborne virus." Data paused and the quick tilt of his head gave
away his concern. "I must inform you that you have also been affected.
I believe it is only a matter of time before you will be unable to
assist me in rectifying this situation."

Jean-Luc sighed heavily. There was no good news today. "Well then, Mr.
Data, before I run away from you into the jungle, let's see what we
can find on the bridge."

The bridge was a nightmare. Conduits hissed and smoked behind the
panels. Controls flickered and as soon as they entered, Jean-Luc could
smell the blood and the sickly-sweet scent of death. Ensign Cardhu was
dead at the helm, his face savagely torn apart. His flesh had been
rent by something with four vicious claws. Jean-Luc's suddenly
traitorous stomach twisted as he realised the space between the wicked
injuries matched the span of human fingers.

"Crewman Drier is also dead, sir," Data reported as he appeared behind
him.

Data's silent motion and his lack of scent make Jean-Luc jump. "I'm
all right," he promised. "Just unsettled."

"It is a disturbing situation, Captain. Your discomfort may indeed be
warranted." Data was entirely stoic, even surrounded by death, and
Jean-Luc was silently grateful for the android. Jean-Luc watched,
trying desperately not to think about what kind of creature had killed
Ensign Cardhu, as Data cleared the science station and activated it
with an emergency power cell. He set the tricorder down and then sat
in front of the console.

"I have interfaced with the main computer. From what we have seen so
far, I believe we can infer that the virus sweeping the ship is a
retrovirus that reactivates dormant strands of what is called 'junk'
DNA. From the medical logs, it appears Dr. Picard made some progress
identifying it before her notes ceased."

"Ceased?" Jean-Luc asked. He could hear the creatures on the deck
below them and he could almost smell the predator that had taken
Ensign Cardhu's life. It wasn't safe here and wherever Beverly was,
she was in danger. His heart leapt to warp in his chest at the
thought.

"Her notes become more and more fractured," Data replied. "Eventually
she became de-evolved enough to no longer understand the virus she was
trying to combat. I must get to sickbay."

Jean-Luc caught Data's hard shoulder as the android got to his feet.
"Data, where is she?"

Data's yellow eyes could have been sympathetic. Jean-Luc allowed
himself to take it as such. "Dr. Picard's comm signal was last
detected in med lab three. We could begin our search there. However,
Captain, I must remind you that delaying the development of a cure may
result in the continued loss of life and the eventual destruction-"

Jean-Luc held up a hand. "Thank you, Data. Perhaps you could work on a
cure in med lab three. If that's where Beverly was working-"

"I will be able to pick up where she left off," Data nodded once,
agreeing. "A sensible compromise, sir."

They made their way back down towards sickbay. Jean-Luc hid more and
more behind Data as they travelled. The sounds around them were
insubstantial terrors and Jean-Luc's control was starting to fail him.
He flicked his eyes back and forth as Data stopped.

The android bent to examine a patch of deck plating that had been
melted. "It appears to be some kind of organic corrosive agent," Data
said. "Fascinating."

"I don't think I need to remind you that it is inadvisable to remain
here," Jean-Luc replied, surprised by the barely controlled thread of
panic in his voice. "The med lab will be safer."

"Of course, sir."

A few decks later, Data wrenched the door open. The lab was dark and
when they entered, they were greeted with snarling. Jean-Luc crouched
low behind Data, using him as a shield. The snarling belonged to a
vicious set of fangs in a canine mouth. The elongated snout was furred
in red, in a shade Jean-Luc immediately recognised.

Data raised his hands, ready to protect the captain by force if
necessary.

"No, Data," he murmured, "wait."

When she dropped to all fours, instead of snarling at them from her
hind legs, he could see the familiar rounding of her belly. Sighing in
relief that the virus hadn't sent her into early labour, or worse,
Jean-Luc tried to remember if he knew anything about canines. He
lowered his hands, hoping she'd somehow recognise the smell of him and
hold off her attack. Beverly might be his wife, but her DNA was
quickly mutating into a creature that would rather eat him than speak
with him.

"Beverly," he said, keeping his voice calm even through his body
thrummed with fear. "Hey, Beverly...it's me. Remember me?"

Her elongated, now pointed ears twitched at his voice and the dark tip
of her nose moved closer to his hand. Her wicked teeth clicked, then
bared and she growled menacingly. Panic surged through him and the
searing thought of her jaws taking off his fingertips flashed through
his mind. It took all the will Jean-Luc had left not to move.

Abruptly, the growling stopped. Beverly sniffed, then nuzzled his
hand. He held perfectly still, then tentatively stroked the back of
her head. The long locks of her hair were mixed in with thick, red
fur.

"Data," he whispered back, counting on the android's superior hearing.
"Can you scan the baby?"

Stroking Beverly's canine head kept her calm and she even backed from
the door and allowed them both into the med lab. Jean-Luc could see
the remnants of her work on the console behind them with his
flashlight. She'd been working on a cure, right until she'd lost her
mind to this illness. Beverly looked up at him, her strange and sadly
dull blue eyes held him for a moment, then she retreated, still on all
fours, to a nest of her lab coat, torn parts of the carpet, and pieces
of other uniforms. Just as if she were still human, her pregnancy was
exhausting her. Trying to scare them off had taken a lot of energy,
and she lay down.

"Captain," Data's soft voice cut into Jean-Luc's concern. "The child
is completely unaffected by the virus. While Dr. Picard's DNA is
de-evolving to that of a large feral canine, your child's DNA has
remained human. It is remarkable, sir. The extra immunity provided by
Dr. Picard's amniotic fluid must have protected the foetus."

"Is that what she was working on as the basis of her cure?" Jean-Luc
wondered, not lifting his eyes from Beverly.

With a quick nod of acknowledgement, Data checked over the lab
equipment.

Beverly lifted her head, but when Jean-Luc showed no sign of worrying
about Data, she lowered it again. To his surprise, she shifted when he
knelt beside her, touching him with a paw that had once been her hand.
An inhuman yelp was some attempt to communicate and he rubbed the back
of her head. "Data will figure it out," he promised her, keeping his
tone low and even. "You'll be fine, back to your old self in no time,
I promise."

Whining, Beverly rolled a little in the other direction. He slowly
scratched down her shoulder, then her chest and slowly reached for her
belly. She looked at him in suspicion and he spoke gently. "She's all
right, Beverly. The baby's all right. I bet she's getting heavy, isn't
she? She's so close now. Just a few more weeks and we'll be holding
her. I can't. . ." he shook his head, almost laughing in spite of
everything. "I can't imagine what that will be like. Holding her in
our hands, after she's been through so much to be here with us."

As long as he kept speaking, Beverly watched him serenely. The
suspicion slowly faded from her eyes and she relaxed. Data worked
behind him, reassembling the research Beverly had started. Jean-Luc
distracted her, encouraging her to ignore Data. Judging by her new
teeth, that was something they wanted.

"Captain, I require a sample of her amniotic fluid," Data announced.
"It may be easiest to sedate her."

Beverly recoiled as Data approached, taking away the paw she'd had on
Jean-Luc's leg.

"Do you know what dosage of sedative to use?" Jean-Luc asked,
concerned. He'd read enough prenatal literature to know that sedatives
were difficult to use safely on pregnant women. Data knew that, of
course, but this was his wife. They couldn't be too careful.

"I do not," Data answered. "Perhaps she will allow you to do it. You
seem to have some kind of rapport established."

"I believe they call it marriage, Data," Jean-Luc replied, more
lightly than he would have usually. He needed the levity. It was
something human he could cling to. "Give me the hypospray. I think
she'll let me take a sample of her amniotic fluid."

With the hypo hidden from view in his sleeve, Jean-Luc settled back
against the wall, letting her see him close his eyes for a moment or
two. "You did so much for this cure," he commented gently. "You've
gotten us this far, Beverly, we just need this to make it the rest of
the way." He reached out, running his hand over her shoulders until
she relaxed and let him continue down her back. Her spine no longer
felt human, but he kept his revulsion out of his face. Beverly needed
him to be calm if he was going to get her and the rest of the ship
back.

"I've been reading my prenatal literature," he told her, moving his
hand slowly down towards her belly. "I've made it through three of
those PADDs you gave me. I have to admit the pictures are a little
graphic, but I know we're going to be all right. As uncertain as I
might be, I know this is something we'll be going through together,
and that makes all the difference." He slipped his hand down further,
resting it on her belly as he moved the hypospray into position. He
leaned closer to her head, reminding himself that she'd be herself
again soon, and she'd need him. Even though his mutating instincts
screamed that he was too close to a dangerous predator, he trusted
her. "I remember when Wesley was born. How young we both were, and how
frightened you were that Jack couldn't be there. I don't know how we
made it through that. I was so afraid I'd say the wrong thing, or
forget where I was and admit how much I loved you."

Jean-Luc ran his left hand along her muzzle, toying with the softest
part of her fur between her eyes. "And I love you." She looked up at
him, trying to decide what to make of him. The hypospray sank into her
flesh and started to fill with amniotic fluid. Beverly felt nothing,
and he was able to slowly pull his hand back without her removing any
of his fingers with her teeth.

"Here you are, Data." He held up the hypospray, but the android did
not immediately take it.

"Captain," Data's voice had dropped to a whisper. "There are two large
creatures in the corridor." He held his tricorder in front of him,
paired with his phaser. "One of them has traces of human DNA, but the
other appears to be-"

Something large and heavy crashed against the door in the med lab.
Beverly's head snapped up and she bared her teeth again, suddenly
anxious. The source of the crash, something far larger than Beverly,
growled in frustration. Beverly's teeth closed on his arm and tugged
him back. She hadn't bit hard enough to break the skin, and instead
seemed determined to pull him away from the door. The growling turned
into a howl, a deep, terrifying sound that cut through Jean-Luc like a
laser scalpel. Beverly's ears were up and all the fur on the back of
her neck was erect with fear. She began to growl back, a low hum of
warning.

Data hurried to him, crouching down. "I believe the larger creature is
Lieutenant Worf. He has de-evolved into some kind of primitive Klingon
predator."

Jean-Luc winced. He couldn't pull his arm free of Beverly's mouth, nor
could he get up while she held him. "Can he get through the door?" he
wondered.

As if the Worf-creature had decided to answer the question for him,
the metal of the door began to buckle. He was beating his way in and
there was very little Data or Jean-Luc could do to stop him. Beverly's
teeth sank in deeper, this time nearly breaking the skin of his arm
through his uniform. He looked down at her, ready to try and talk her
out of eating his arm. There was fear in her eyes and that made his
stomach knot even tighter. She was dragging him towards the rear of
the lab, a dark corner they'd ignored in their search for a cure.

One of the panels was loose. "Data, can we get out this way?"

The android moved like lightning across the room and scanned the
opening. The instant he stood in front of it, something covered with
golden-brown fur erupted out of the panel and knocked Data to the
deck. He wrestled with it for a moment and Jean-Luc jumped in panic.
Between Beverly, the Worf-creature breaking his way in through the
door, and the new creature attacking Data, it was entirely possible he
wouldn't survive long enough to turn into whatever it was that he was
about to become. From his fear, Jean-Luc guessed he was not becoming a
predator like his wife.

Data threw off the creature, who sat hissing in the corner on her
haunches. Part of Jean-Luc's brain recognised his first officer
through the fur and her sharply pointed ears.

"Data," he warned. "Be careful."

"She has realised that she is unable to bite through my skeletal
supports," Data reported. "I believe Commander Janeway has become a
large feline, possibly a primitive member of the felidae family."

"Why is she here?" Jean-Luc asked. Beverly had dropped his arm and was
moving towards the hatch Janeway had just appeared from. "They're both
predators. It doesn't make sense that they'd be together."

"Perhaps they have formed a pack. With an absence of others of their
species, it is possible that they see each other as allies." Data
returned to the console, eyeing the door as Worf continued to bang his
way through. Beverly and Janeway exchanged sniffs and Beverly
continued retreating. She caught Jean-Luc's arm again, pulling him
after her.

Data's pale hands flew through his work. Aiming his phaser with his
left hand, he continued to work with his right. Melting the door
together would only buy them a few more seconds. "I suggest you follow
them, Captain. It is no longer safe to be here. I will follow as soon
as I can."

Beverly disappeared into the dark hell of the Jefferies tube first,
leaving him staring down at Janeway's deep gold eyes. Her pupils had
become slits, and fur covered most of her face. Her hands had become
wide paws, complete with wicked looking claws. She glared at him, then
licked her lips with a rounded pink tongue. Gulping and closing his
eyes, he followed Beverly into the darkness behind the wall. They
crawled along, him without a flashlight and entirely blind. Three
times he ran into Beverly's long, furry tail and once she turned
around to nuzzle him. He wondered if she could smell his fear.

His hearing was growing more acute. The sounds around him were
becoming more distinct, and as he made sense of them, infinitely more
terrifying. After an eternity of crawling, they stopped in a far, dark
corner of the Jefferies tube, junction three-eight-one. Beverly
circled the room, then collapsed down to rest. She wagged her tail
feebly at him, and he took it as a sign they were safe for the moment.

Janeway took more convincing and she paced the tiny space. His sense
of smell must have been growing more acute as he succumbed to the
virus. He could tell Worf hadn't followed them and Jean-Luc knew the
metallic scent was blood. Dark blood matted the fur on both of her
forelegs and there were several gashes on her shoulders that had torn
through her uniform. A particularly nasty-looking bite was healing
slowly on her cheek. Perhaps she'd been fighting with the other
predators, or the Worf-creature. The former security chief definitely
seemed to be the most terrifying creature on board. He doubted she
would allow him to do anything for her wounds. When she finally sat,
she licked them methodically, like one of the cats who'd kept mice out
of the storage room on the vineyard. She looked at him imperiously,
obviously finding him more trouble than he was worth. Beverly's desire
to keep him around won out, and a series of looks between them and a
bark of Beverly's finished the subject.

The pair that reproduced was usually the head of the pack, at least in
wolves. Perhaps that had some bearing here. Beverly put her head in
his lap, letting him rub her head as she closed his eyes. Janeway
observed the behaviour but continued to lick her wounds. Her guard was
still up, and Jean-Luc couldn't help worrying that every sound around
them was the Wolf-creature drawing in for the kill. He hadn't even
seen it, but he knew it would be more frightening than his darkest
imagining.

Beverly slept, and eventually even Janeway's eyes shut, even though
she remained on guard. He was alone, surrounded by monsters, in a ship
that wouldn't last more than a few more days before life support or
something else was compromised. Jean-Luc crossed his arms over his
chest, trying to find the strength to keep himself from giving up
entirely. He'd never see his daughter or watch Beverly smile as she
held her. Losing the two of them, the best parts of his extraordinary
life, hurt. Jean-Luc closed his eyes, trying to focus on the positive.
Data could find a way out of this. Even though the voice in the back
of his head that argued that there was always hope fought him, he was
losing faith. It was entirely up to Data, because there was nothing he
could do.

Without the android, there was no hope.

His eyelids were heavy. He'd rest awhile, then he'd go find Data. He
couldn't give up, even in the darkness, surrounded by the stench of
blood and death.

But the darkness took him, and he knew no more.

---

Her head was spinning. Beverly wasn't that surprised; she'd been dizzy
more than a few times since she'd become pregnant. Normally it
happened when she was standing up. This time, she was not. Without
opening her eyes, she knew from the sounds around her that she was in
sickbay. A biobed was beneath her, and she could smell the faint lack
of smell that the quarantine fields had. Other than being lightheaded,
which was infinitely frustrating, her back hurt, and her left knee was
sore from the way she'd been sleeping. Rolling to the other side took
a great deal of effort, and she silently cursed herself for ever
thinking being pregnant was a good idea.

A hand caught hers, wrapping her cool fingers in strong, warm ones. It
was Jean-Luc, and she smiled, feeling his palm.

"You're back," she whispered, surprised by the dryness of her throat.
It felt strange, as if she'd been yelling into a storm.

"I've been back awhile," Jean-Luc assured her. His voice was calm and
even, just as it had been when he'd left. "You've been asleep."

Smiling again, she carefully opened one eye, then the other. He had a
chair near her head, and she could see by his chest he was in
uniform.. Her vision was thankfully in colour again. As she'd fallen
victim to the retrovirus, she'd lost colour in her vision as her sense
of smell had gone crazy. Now they both seemed back to normal, and the
only side effect was the disconnect between her head and her body.
"I'm still tired," she replied softly, letting her eyes close again.
"How did you...?"

"Data," he told her. The hand on hers ran up her arm, squeezing the
flesh on his way back down. "Data found your research and was able to
assemble a cure using your amniotic fluid."

Beverly's eyes fluttered back open, and this time her vision was
strong enough to find his face, not just his uniform. "Glad we could
help."

He leaned down, kissing her cheek. "You saved the ship."

She shook her head and immediately regretted the motion. "Mutant-"

"Barclay's Protomorphosis Syndrome," Jean-Luc explained. "At least,
that's what Dr. Selar and Data are intending to call it. A synthetic
T-cell-"

She nodded, and that was just as bad as the shaking. "Dammit," she
whispered. "A synthetic T-cell was what I gave Barclay-"

"Everything's fine now," he promised warmly. Trust Jean-Luc to focus
on the outcome. "You're fine, and the baby shouldn't have even
noticed."

The warmth of his touch on her belly made her smile return. "I hope
not," Beverly agreed. "How would we explain mom turning into a-"

"Prehistoric cainid."

"Right," she sighed. Waving him down closer to her head, she managed
to clumsily find his arm with her hand. "Why am I dizzy?"

His sweet smile almost made up for the fog filling her brain. "Your
immune response was slightly suppressed. Data's cure was harder on you
than the rest of us. Selar promised you're past the worst of it." He
stroked her hair back from her cheek and kept the smile. "It took you
a little longer than the rest of us to wake up from the cure.
Interestingly enough, the type of creature each member of the crew
turned into had an effect on their response to the cure. Those with
faster metabolisms, like Mr. Worf, recovered faster, while those with
slower metabolic rates, like Ensign Garcia who turned into a form of a
sloth, are still in the process of reverting to their original state."

She could read it in a report later, but in this moment, Beverly
needed to know. "Casualties?"

"Sixteen," he replied gently. "A far better number than I expected,
under the circumstances."

Trying to sit up made her head explode into a billion points of light.

"Beverly," Jean-Luc eased her back down. "Be careful. Selar's been
monitoring your blood pressure and she still finds it less than
satisfactory."

She'd shut her eyes against the light, but nothing she did cleared the
fog from her brain. "It's been less than satisfactory for the last six
months. What makes today all that different?" Teasing him wouldn't get
her anywhere, but she enjoyed doing it.

"Rest." Kissing her cheek, Jean-Luc settled again into his chair. It
creaked as he sat. "Rest for my sake."

"Lie down, stay, good girl?" she taunted.

His laughter lightened the weight in her heart. "You were far more
concerned that I obey you."

"As you should."

"Indeed."

She couldn't see him lean in to kiss her again, but she felt the
weight shift as he leaned on the biobed. His mouth was warm and
comforting against her cheek. He was still near her when she wondered,
"When can I go home?"

"When your blood pressure is back up over 110 over 60, whatever that
means."

Opening her eyes just in time to see him shrug, Beverly smirked at
him. "You have no idea.'

"It sounds like a good number."

Her hand found his arm and stayed there. "It is a good number." She
had no idea how long he'd been watching her, but he showed no signs of
losing interest. She loved that about him. Beverly rubbed his knee in
a slow circle. "I love you." Her tone was low enough not to carry, but
she didn't mind anyone overhearing. She adored him, and the whole ship
probably knew.

Jean-Luc kissed first her forehead, then her mouth. He lingered,
letting her upper lip catch between both of his. "I love you too."

"Waiting isn't so bad," she decided. He allowed her to fidget with his
uniform, and she could have kissed him again for his patience. "Who
else is here?"

Glancing around the room to humour her, he did a quick inventory.
"Ensign Lockehart is having a bone in her leg regenerated. Crewman
Sudal is resting; he had internal injuries. I can see Crewman O'Surca
and Lieutenant Xu Hwa. I'm not sure what their injuries are. Data has
the bridge. Geordi has been complaining about how much he misses his
regressed hearing. Lieutenant Worf has been apologising to Commander
Janeway every time he sees her."

Beverly pulled back her arm, and he shifted his hands to hold hers.
"That sounds like a story."

"Apparently," Jean-Luc looked down at her secretively, even dropping
his voice, "he bit her."

Raising her eyebrows, she waved him down closer. "Was he trying to eat
her or-"

His tone was light with humour. "Data believes the superficial nature
of the wound implies that he was trying to mate." Jean-Luc sat back
up, serenely dignified. "My number one goes red at the mention of it."

"Of course she does." She shook her head sympathetically and smiled in
relief when her body didn't rebel from the motion. "Poor woman just
hasn't had any luck with relationships. A plasma ghost, that terrible
man on Earth and a Klingon-"

"Good relationships are hard to find." Jean-Luc made the comment
off-hand, meaning little by it. The ease with which he'd accepted
their relationship still filled her with awe.

"Very hard," she agreed. Her throat was scratchy again, but as he
leaned down to kiss her, this time she knew exactly what the cause
was.

---
Journey's End
---

Beverly toyed with the edge of her sleeve.

"It's not just Geordi. He's not talking to Data, Worf mentioned he was
upset and apparently he's been rude to everyone, he's obviously
avoiding us."

"Beverly." Running his hand through her hair helped distract her, but
she would not yet be calmed. "We're two of the busiest people on the
ship. If he can't find time to have dinner with us, we certainly can't
blame him."

"He's been busy since he arrived on board?" she asked. "He's been on
that planet-"

"Dorvan V."

"Dorvan V," Beverly repeated, rolling her eyes. "Four days and he
hasn't even found time to send us a communiqué."

"Tuesday, you wanted to give him time to settle in. Wednesday, he
wanted to go sightseeing with René, which you thought was a wonderful
idea. Thursday, he said he was behind on an essay and you agreed that
it was much more important. I thought it was very mature of him. He
was very polite in his letter."

"Polite," she reminded him, dropping his wrist that she'd been
fidgeting with angrily into his lap. "For Wesley that went way beyond
polite. That was reserved. He had eighty questions a minute for me
when he was little. He always had some science project to tell me
about. Remember his tractor beam?"

Jean-Luc kissed her temple, resting his chin against her hair. That he
remembered quite vividly. "He's a young man. He's been away and become
independent. You're his mother-"

"And I'm smothering him by wanting him to spend time with us." She
sighed and buried her forehead in his shoulder. Muttering in
frustration, Beverly lifted her head and frowned. "Every time I get
comfortable, my bladder insists I move."

Trying not to smile, he picked up his tea cup. "Almost done," he
assured her. "Three more weeks."

"Easy for you to say," she said, frowning. "Your internal organs
aren't flattened against your spine. Beverly turned her head towards
him and held her hand up in the air.

Recognising his cue, Jean-Luc moved to set down his tea cup mid-sip.
Helping Beverly up was more of a formality than a necessity, but she
always appreciated it with a sweet smile that made giving up whatever
he was doing entirely worthwhile.

She held on to him for a while longer than it took for her to drag
herself up to her feet. Beverly rested her head on his shoulder,
staring down at the prominent swell of her belly.

"Are we ready?"

Jean-Luc shook his head and kissed her cheek. "You had to use the
toilet."

Rolling her eyes, she had to nod. "That's becoming a constant
situation."

"Go, then we can talk about the baby until you have to go again." When
Beverly turned and started walking slowly towards the toilet, he
added, "Which should be at least five minutes."

"Maybe even ten," she called over her shoulder.

Jean-Luc chuckled to himself and picked up his tea cup again. His tea
was not as hot as he preferred, but Beverly was the kind of
distraction that was detrimental to the speed with which he drank his
tea. He sipped slowly, letting the familiar taste calm him as his
thoughts drifted back to the baby.

Beverly's warm-up contractions, something she assured him was
perfectly normal, startled him more than they did her. As they
occurred more frequently, and with greater intensity, his mind dwelled
on what he'd be expected to do during labour. He was planning to run
the simulation Beverly suggested and once he'd gotten over the shock
of seeing a holographic representation of her, he thought he'd finally
understand what it would be like.

---

"Computer," Kathryn asked the holodeck. "What program is Captain
Picard running?"

"Captain Picard is participating in medical training simulation
zero-three-nine. Labour and delivery of a human baby."

"Is the program locked?" she asked.

"Command or medical authorisation required."

That was interesting. Picard wasn't the type to leave an embarrassing
holodeck program unlocked, and command authorisation left it open to
her. She could have waited, or just tried to reach him again on the
comm, but her curiosity got the better of her.

"Authorisation, Janeway-pi-one-one-zero, acknowledge."

"Authorisation accepted. Enter when ready."

The holodeck doors hissed opened as she approached. Kathryn thought
she'd walk into a version of Starfleet Medical, where her delivery
simulation had been set. Instead, this simulation was set on the
Enterprise-D. This sickbay was familiar, as were the sounds of the
Enterprise, even down to the simulated hum of the deck plating. The
usual staff bustled around, none too hurried. Kathryn stood in the
middle, trying to make sure she wasn't missing the captain. A baby
wouldn't be born in the main sickbay, which was too exposed. Birth was
something intimate.

When she rounded the corner into the private examination rooms,
Kathryn finally found him. The captain stood at the foot of the
biobed, uniform jacket forgotten on a hook on the wall. Beads of sweat
clung to the back of his head, and his grey undershirt was also
stained with sweat. A holographic doctor and one of the holographic
nurses assisted the labouring woman blocked from view by the captain.

Not sure if she should make her presence known or wait for him to
notice her, Kathryn accidentally triggered a reset of the program.

"Partner detected. Resetting program."

The figures disappeared, and then sickbay disappeared entirely. The
walls and ceiling faded away into the yellow and black grid of the
holodeck before the computer began to rebuild. Walls, ceiling and
windows coalesced out of the aether to become Ten Forward. Starlines
drifted past the windows and holographic characters appeared around
them to fill in the chairs and tables.

Done with the surroundings, the program altered her physically. With
the reset of the program, Kathryn had inexplicably gained twenty
kilos. She'd never been pregnant, but in the simulation, suddenly she
was.

The computer had changed her uniform to a maternity uniform, and her
swollen holographic belly was covered in red and black fabric.
Fascinated, she rested her hands on it, feeling for the edges. The
fabric of her uniform ran into the fabric of the belly the program had
created for her. She'd had a few strange things happen in the
holodeck, but this took the photonic cake. Odder still was the way she
could feel her hands on her stomach, as if she were touching a part of
her, even though the holographic facsimile was in between and she
couldn't possibly...but she could. She did.

Picard turned quickly, as startled as she had been by the reset. He
turned, crossing the slight distance between them and taking her by
both elbows. The sudden connection didn't make any sense. Picard
wasn't usually. . .hell, he hadn't ever been demonstrative.

"I'm sorry, I didn't hear the comm-" his polite apology was cut off by
her gasp of pain and surprise.

It hurt.

The facsimile expansion of her belly that couldn't possibly exist
contracted down, and she felt it as if it were her own muscles. It
wasn't quite pain, but it was a dull, demanding discomfort that stole
her breath and would have taken her balance as well if it wasn't for
Picard's strong hands on her arms. He held her up, firm and steady.

"It doesn't give you much warning," he explained. "Computer, halt
simulation."

The pain, if she could call it that, vanished immediately. However,
Kathryn wasn't lucky enough to lose the weight over her hips or the
growing backache her sudden weight gain had produced.

"Someone programmed the biofeedback a little too well in this one,"
she muttered when she could breathe again.

"My wife," he excused. "With Mr. Data's assistance. Beverly thought
Starfleet Medical's version needed a few 'improvements.' I've only
been in here alone, I didn't know what the program did to the
partner-" he paused and led her to the closest chair. "Forgive me. I
should have heard the comm."

Kathryn glanced down at the holographic belly that covered all of her
lap and felt as real as the nose on her face. "If it's all that
realistic, it's no wonder you didn't."

Picard was smiling, something that entirely destroyed the idea of him
as stern. "I'm afraid together Beverly and Data were very thorough."
He patted the back of her hand; his fingers were damp with sweat and
fluids Kathryn didn't want to be too specific about. "Computer, reset
to training program. Non-participant."

Her belly vanished and she could breathe again. Kathryn's first breath
was fast and enough of a gasp that she choked on it. Coughing to clear
her throat, she nodded to Picard that she was all right.

His sympathetic smile was tired but entirely understanding. Smudges of
holographic blood tinged his thin grey undershirt. More was on his
arms, and he'd rubbed some onto his neck from his hands. Kathryn kept
her chair and he crouched comfortably in front of her.

"How long have you been in here?"

"An hour or so."

He stood and offered her a hand up to her feet. When she looked at it,
he paused to wipe it against his shirt before he offered it again.
Tears may have dried on his face. Kathryn thought she could see the
marks. 'Thorough' was an understatement for Data and Beverly's
additions.

"Are you all right?"

Picard smiled wearily. "Fine. I'm fine. I'm afraid I got a little
caught up."

Kathryn grabbed his jacket from the wall but held onto it as she
looked again at the mess the program had made of him. "Taking this
seriously, aren't you?"

His smile in response had a sincerity to it that warmed her chest.
"I've spent more time on this than I did the Kobayashi Maru. I only
took that once."

She pretended to be mortified. "You didn't-" Kathryn dropped her voice
to a whisper as they walked towards the door of the holodeck,
currently disguised as the door leading out of sickbay.

"I didn't?"

"Cheat," she finished, still whispering. "You didn't cheat, did you?"

Jean-Luc laughed and shook his head slowly. "No, I didn't cheat. I
died, foolishly and far more rashly than I should have."

"You tried to be a hero?" Pausing in front of the door, Kathryn
smirked at him.

"And failed spectacularly, I assure you." The captain adopted his more
formal demeanor. "What can I do for you Number One?"

"Other than keep me on my feet-"

"That first contraction is cruelly close to the start of the program,"
he interrupted. His eyes twinkled; he knew he was caught. "I may have
seen it enough to know."

"Admiral Nechayev would like you to join her on the planet at your
convenience, Captain," Kathryn replied to the question of a few
moments ago. Handing him his uniform jacket, she watched as he winced
and put it on over his outfit. "You might want to shower."

"Wise advice, commander." Picard stepped out into the corridor and
saved the program.

Following him to the turbolift, she waited for it to shut them in
before she gave in to her curiosity.

"Who's the woman?"

"Hmm?" Picard left his thoughts and turned to her in the lift. "I
don't follow."

"The woman in labour, in your program."

He dropped his hand from his chin and met her gaze. His hazel eyes,
normally calm and collected, were full of a vulnerability she'd never
seen. "The first time I ran it, Beverly programmed in a facsimile of
herself."

"That must have been disconcerting." Kathryn tried to imagine walking
into the holodeck to be confronted by someone she cared about in
labour. That was worse than the holodeck impregnating her.

"Mr. Data's skills as a holographic designer are truly legendary.
Programmers everywhere are lucky he has other duties." He met her eyes
again and cleared his throat shyly. "A simulation of my wife was a
little too realistic. Now she's simply called Gaia, though Beverly
left most of her physical features intact."

"Does she-" maybe she shouldn't be asking, "-respond to you?"

"The person running the program is her partner," Picard explained
gently. "She responds to me as if I were. Unless, apparently, if a
woman joins me."

Kathryn winced and crossed her arms over her chest. The memory of the
weight of her fake pregnancy, however brief, would cling to her for a
long time. "That was highly disconcerting."

He very gently patted her shoulder, smiling wistfully. "I do
apologise, Number One. I had no idea it would do that to you when you
walked in."

"Well," Kathryn said, shuddering and staring down at her stomach to
make sure it was still flat. "Don't tell your wife you got me knocked
up on the holodeck."

He began to chuckle, then nodded discreetly. "You have a deal."

---

"You've been on the Enterprise for five days and we haven't even seen
you."

Beverly tried not to snap at her son. René had managed to have
breakfast with his uncle that morning, and the young man's exuberance
and excitement had made Wesley's recalcitrance that much more
frustrating.

"René's been to see us several times."

"René doesn't have essays and exams hanging over his head. He's
sixteen! He's enjoying himself, like a sixteen-year-old should be."

When had he become so bitter? Beverly paced, resting both hands on the
small of her back. It ached today and no changing of the movement of
her hips, lying down, or standing had banished it. She shouldn't have
been so angry, yet it refused to dissipate.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." He softened his tone. "It meant nothing. He's having a
wonderful time. René can't get enough of the Enterprise." Wesley
stopped staring at his feet and lifted his gaze to her. "How is-" he
faltered.

Beverly sighed, letting her anger out of her chest before it set off
more of those damn Braxton-Hicks contractions. Ending her pacing, she
sank down in the chair by the door. Sitting with her back straight
helped a little, but nothing would ease her discomfort until Jean-Luc
rubbed the tension out.

"She's fine." Running her hands slowly over her belly, she smiled for
Wesley's benefit. "Getting bigger every day."

"And the captain?" He finally relaxed a little.

Maybe Wesley knew that was her weakness. Thinking of Jean-Luc, Beverly
had to smile. He'd been exceptional, patient and loving, no matter how
terrible her mood or how many times she rose in the night for the
toilet. For a man who had spent so much time a bachelor, she couldn't
have asked for a more caring husband. Her pause must have given some
of her feelings away, because even through his anger, Wesley smiled.

"I love him; he'll be an excellent father."

"And she'll grow up on the ship with you both."

He rested his hands on his knees, just as his father had. Unlike Jack,
who lived in the moment, Wesley's thoughts were light years away.

"Wes-"

What could she say? That if things had been different, his father
would have been with him? If Starfleet had Galaxy-class starships
twenty years ago, Wesley would have grown up with both of his parents.
She couldn't guess if that meant he would have had more time with
Jack, or if it would have meant that she and Wes would have buried
Jack together in space.

He stopped her from needing to finish. "Mom, I'm glad. I'm really glad
you have someone. I like Captain Picard. His family's great. René's a
lot of fun to hang out with."

Wesley stiffened up, putting that wall back between them. Whatever was
bothering him, he wasn't going to tell her what it was, at least, not
yet.

Beverly left her chair, slowly crossed Wesley's quarters and sat down
next to him on the sofa. It was impossible to do so gracefully and he
smiled a little when she frowned and rolled her eyes.

"I'm not sure which of you is worse. I thought you were terribly heavy
and you completely ruined my balance."

Wesley started to smile a little. "And she doesn't?"

Beverly sighed melodramatically. "She does. I can't even say she's any
better or worse than you because she and I aren't done yet." Grabbing
his shoulder, she squeezed it tightly. "Of course, neither are we,
but, thankfully you're a bit more independent than she-"

Wesley struggled for a moment. "You can call her my sister. It's okay.
Half-sister sounds stupid and. . ."

He stumbled on what he was trying to say. Taking a deep breath, he
finished haltingly, "I guess Captain Picard's the closest person I
have to a dad now. Not that I...and dad is still dad but-"

Embracing him as tightly as she could over the swell of her belly,
Beverly held him as her eyes started to sting. The stinging quickly
gave way to tears and she let them fall onto his shoulder.

"Your father will always be your father. He loved you very much and
nothing can change that. Jean-Luc won't be him; he can't. He is
someone who cares very deeply for you."

Wesley stroked her back clumsily. "And you. He loves you."

Beverly released him, but held on to his shoulders. He was growing up
so quickly. A few years ago he was pushing her to go on dates and now
he understood how much Jean-Luc meant to her. He had a good heart,
she'd always known that.

"Wesley, when you're ready...find someone who loves you that way.
Don't settle for anything less," she ordered, slipping into her old
mom voice she rarely used.

"I don't know how I'm going to meet anyone having dinner with you."

She saw the agreement in his eyes. He understood as much as he could,
being so young.

Beverly cupped his cheek in her hand. "You'll manage, somehow."

---

"So you could beam them all up?" René asked, peering over his uncle's
hands to look at the transporter console. "Everyone on the planet, all
at once?"

Jean-Luc grinned. "Well, not all at once. We can beam up most of a
small colony if we use the cargo transporters as well."

"Which are slower but still perfectly safe for humanoid transport. Can
we see the cargo bays?"

Jean-Luc raised an eyebrow but nodded. "They're full of cargo."

"Well, on the Enterprise-D, even cargo is important. We are on the
flagship of the Federation, after all." René straightened his jacket
in a neat imitation of his uncle.

"Quite right." Jean-Luc pointing René towards the door. "However, we
have a dinner engagement. Your tour of the cargo bays may have to wait
until afterwards and be conducted by Mr. Data."

Rene shook his head thoughtfully. "I haven't been able to think of a
question Data can't answer. I've been trying for the last few days,
but so far I've got nothing."

The young man's dedication made Jean-Luc smile all the more. "It is
unlikely you'll come up with anything."

"Nothing's impossible. Even for a positronic net." He headed into the
turbolift ahead of Jean-Luc. He glanced down at his feet for a moment
or two, then looked up shyly.

"Are you allowed to sponsor my application to the Academy? Is there a
conflict of interest because we're related? I thought about asking
Data, but he and Geordi said I need a command level officer, and then
I thought Captain Riker-"

"Starfleet Academy will not turn down your application because it's
been sponsored by your uncle." Sighing, Jean-Luc tried to decide how
much trouble he was in with Robert for encouraging René's dreams of
the Academy. "Have you discussed this with your father?"

René frowned a little and looking down at the floor. "A few times.
Maman thinks it could be great. I'd see the galaxy, meet new people,
new species, and it's what I've wanted to do since I was eight. She
gets that. My father thinks I should mind the vineyard as Picards have
always done, as he did and his father did, et cetera, et cetera."

Jean-Luc knew that speech; he'd heard it from his own father several
times. They paused in front of his quarters. "Is that something you
considered? Running the vineyard, I mean."

"I'm no good at growing anything," René replied sheepishly. "I can do
the wine making part, that's chemistry. It's kind of fun, but I don't
know how to pick vines and I trim them wrong. Besides, I've lived in
one place my whole life. I'd love to see somewhere else."

Laughing gently, Jean-Luc led René into the quarters he shared with
Beverly. "All sixteen years."

René crossed his arms over his chest and his expression lit with
sincerity. "I want to go to the Academy. That's all I want. I think
that's all I've ever wanted. How does a village in France compare to a
starship?"

"Depends on who's looking at it and when one is looking." Wondering if
he was seeing another version of himself in his nephew, he smiled as
Beverly emerged from the bedroom.

She kissed his cheek when she moved to stand next to him. Resting his
hand on her belly, he kissed her back as their daughter moved against
his hand. She was still in uniform and as much as she hated her
maternity uniform, Jean-Luc thought her legs looked incredible.

Beverly furrowed her eyebrows a little. "I thought Wesley was with
you. Have you seen him?"

René looked up helpfully. "He was down on the planet. He's been
talking to a man who lives down there. Something about a vision
quest."

"A vision quest?" Beverly raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "He
didn't say anything about that."

The latter was directed towards him and Jean-Luc shrugged. "I didn't
know that was something he was interested in."

"Wes probably lost track of time." René looked from Beverly to
Jean-Luc and then diplomatically changed the subject. "What's for
dinner?"

Beverly swallowed her concern and rested her forehead against his
cheek for a moment. She sighed, entwining her fingers into his, then
turned to René with as much of a smile as she could muster.

"Why don't you choose? I hear you've been having fun with the
replicators."

"We don't have one." Crossing to the replicator, René began to scroll
through the list of options. "Maman would like one but papa always
says his mother would turn in her grave if she knew we had one of
those in the house."

Beverly held Jean-Luc's hand, keeping his fingers in hers even as they
sat down on the table. He reached across with his free hand and lifted
her chin. With René there, he couldn't say much to comfort her, but
holding her gaze was enough.

"We'll see him tomorrow. A vision quest seems like the kind of thing
where he could lose track of time."

"I know," Beverly said, nodding weakly. "I know."

René began setting plates on the table. He waited for them to
acknowledge him before he spoke. "I hope you like this. Wesley and I
had it on the Ishtar on the way over. Apparently Admiral Nechayev
likes it. We didn't talk to her, because she's an admiral, but her
chief of security ate with us a few times. She's Andorian, married to
three spouses, two of them were on board. Can you imagine that?"

---

His quarters were empty: all of his clothing was gone and what little
belongings he'd brought with him had been taken. Wesley Crusher's
commbadge sat on the table, next to the cadet insignia from his
uniform and a formal letter withdrawing from the academy.

Worf handed her the PADD from the bed. "He left this for Doctor Picard
and the captain."

Kathryn wrapped her hands around it and held the PADD to her chest.
This was a particularly inauspicious way to start her morning and the
rest of the day promised to be full of even more disappointments. She
never could trust a day with Cardassians on board.

Worf's contempt for the Cardassians snuck into his deep voice. "The
treaty became effective at 0900 this morning. Wesley is on a planet no
longer under Federation control."

Kathryn sighed, letting her arms fall to her sides. "Wesley knew what
he was doing. He made no attempt to hide his disdain for the treaty."

"It is a poor treaty, Commander."

Worf picked up Wesley's communicator and insignia from the glass
table. The commbadge would be reprogrammed, and the insignia recycled.
Wesley's life as a Starfleet officer was over.

"Any compromise with the Cardassians gives them a chance to hold a
knife to our throat." Kathryn paused and steeled herself. She was
acutely aware what the Cardassians were capable of. The war had been
one of the worst in recent Federation history and the skirmishes
afterwards had a nasty habit of becoming bloody. Starfleet officers
disappeared all too often and were frequently never seen again.

"The captain knows that," she continued. "He knows that better than
most."

She and Worf stopped in the hall and sealed Wesley's quarters. The
computer erased his name from the records.

Kathryn frowned. "But he has his orders, we all do."

Worf nodded once, then fell in step behind her. "You will inform
Doctor Picard?"

Kathryn tapped her finger on the centre of her forehead. That was a
conversation she was already dreading. How was anyone supposed to
deliver that kind of news to a parent? From what she knew of Wesley,
he'd been a shining example of a future Starfleet officer, and now he
wasn't even living in Federation space. At twenty-two, he had every
right to make his own choices, but this wasn't one she understood.

"I will."

---

Beverly set down her tea and called up the next round of inventory
requests. Doing paperwork was less than intellectually stimulating,
but it kept her off her feet, and that kept her staff from hovering.
Relaxing into it as she went, she found a steady rhythm as she
scrolled through. Her sickbay had the odd habit of going through some
equipment twice as fast as sector supply thought they should. Sector
supply made good attempts to predict what galaxy-class starships would
go through, and it seemed to be fairly accurate. Unless that ship was
the Enterprise, where the rules of the universe didn't always apply.

Footsteps outside her office made her lift her head. Beverly began to
smile, expecting Alyssa and more paperwork, but instead of her nurse,
Kathryn stood there. Stiffly approaching the desk, the first officer
stood behind the chair instead of taking it.

Studying her curiously, Beverly waved at the chair. "There's nothing
wrong with it, Kathryn."

When she sat, Kathryn rested her hands in her lap, holding a PADD
tightly. Her expression was neutral, and she was making an effort to
hide it, but something was bothering her.

"Wesley didn't show up for his meeting with Commander La Forge."

Kathryn's lips were tight and Beverly wondered if Wesley had been
detained for some reason. He'd never committed a crime before, at
least, not one that made any sense if she counted the Edo and their
bizarre criminal justice system.

"When Lieutenant Worf and I checked his quarters, we found them empty.
All his belongings are gone. Wesley has sent a communiqué to the
Academy and resigned his position. Lieutenant Worf and I found this-"

Beverly took the PADD mutely from Kathryn's outstretched hand. "He
left me a note?" Her voice was far more bitter than she intended.
"Twenty-two years, and he leaves his mother a note."

"I'm sorry, Beverly." Kathryn blue eyes were far softer than was
required and her genuine empathy made it that much harder to keep up
her facade.

Beverly steeled herself and glanced over the note. Not even sure which
emotion she was burying, she forced all the heat in her chest down.
Her stomach tightened uncomfortably and she bit the inside of her lip
to keep from frowning.

Wesley's note was brief and loving but it didn't make any sense. "He
needs to find his way?" she read aloud, asking Kathryn even though she
couldn't possibly know. "He saw something in a vision?"

"I don't know."

Kathryn shook her head. She reached across the desk, offering Beverly
her hand.

Beverly dropped the PADD to the desk. She appreciated the gesture but
she couldn't take it. She couldn't. Rationalising made it a little
easier and it turned the sick emptiness in her stomach into something
cold.

"He's an adult, of course, he can do what he wants. Why this planet?"

"Beverly-" Kathryn interrupted instead of answering. "Worf went to the
bridge to scan for him; see if he can reach him."

"And then what? We beam him back? I follow him through the streets
until he gives me a reason why he's throwing his life away?" She shut
her eyes hard, forcing the tears back.

"He doesn't have to be in Starfleet. I've never asked him to be in
Starfleet. That's what he wanted, what he chose, and he can choose
something else. He can be a chef or a carpenter or a naked blue dancer
for all I care."

Pushing her chair back and getting to her feet, Beverly circled the
desk. She had to get to the bridge. Jean-Luc would know what to do.
The first officer stood to meet her on the other side of her desk.

"I'm his mother. He could have told me."

"He tried. He didn't want to hurt you."

Beverly protested, raising her hands defensively. "I'm not hurt. I'm
not hurt. My son couldn't find the time to say good bye, but I'm not
hurt."

Leaning one hand on her desk, she straightened up. Cardassians in
orbit or not, Dorvan V was still a safe planet. She could beam down
and find him.

"He didn't let me tell him I loved him." Beverly's throat was so tight
she wasn't even sure she was speaking aloud.

Kathryn reached for her shoulder, trying to comfort her. "He knows
that. You're a great mom."

"Why this planet?"

"I don't know."

"Who is this man he talks about? His guide?"

"I don't know."

"Why not Earth or Mars or Vulcan or Risa!"

"Beverly-" Jean-Luc's voice cut through Beverly's argument as it grew
in pitch. Kathryn backed away, squeezing her arm once more before she
left the two of them alone.

"Wesley's gone."

Jean-Luc nodded and took both of her arms into his. "I know." He ran
his hand up to cup her cheek. "Mr. Worf told me."

"We have to get down there, I have to talk to him." Beverly dragged
him towards the door of her office.

"Beverly." He caught her arm, shaking his head. "We can't."

"We can't?" she spat the question. "Now you're getting overprotective?
I'm pregnant, not a-"

His left hand landed on her belly, soothing her even though she wanted
to swat it away and push past him.

"This isn't about the baby. Beverly, we signed a treaty with the
Cardassians this morning," Jean-Luc reminded her gently. "Dorvan V
isn't Federation territory any more. I've already talked to Admiral
Nechayev and she'll make inquiries with the diplomatic corp. We can't
just beam down there and look for him."

"What are you-" she stopped herself before he gave her that look.
"Wesley's still-"

He sat down on the edge of her desk, taking her hands in his.
"Everyone on that planet this afternoon renounced their citizenship
under the terms of the treaty. Wesley knew that."

"And that's why he just left me a note? Because he wanted to be on the
other side of the Cardassian border? It's not enough that he quit the
Academy, he left the Federation too?"

"Beverly," he repeated her name to calm her. "Admiral Nechayev will
talk to our ambassadors."

"There has to be something, humanitarian aid, some loophole-" She
pleaded, digging her fingers into his shoulder. "He didn't say
goodbye."

"I know."

Beverly shook her head slowly, hating him for being so calm even as
she loved him for it. "I want to say goodbye."

When he was out of answers, he hugged her. Jean-Luc's cheek rested
against her ear and his hand moved slowly back and forth over her
shoulders. He didn't have an explanation, maybe Wesley didn't either;
maybe it wouldn't be any easier if she had one.

---
Bloodlines
---

"I understand your concern," Admiral Nechayev said, her tone cool and
reserved. "However, Captain, you must understand that the retrieval of
an adult who has decided to voluntarily renounce his Federation
citizenship is not something Starfleet can make a priority."

Jean-Luc knew her well enough know to surmise that she was frustrated
with the situation, and she had no issue making sure he knew it. Not
that he minded. Past the visceral sense of failure for not seeing how
troubled Wesley was, he could stand up to her.

"Especially if he's my son, Admiral." The short little word slipped
away from him before he realised he'd said it: not step-son but son.
Jean-Luc hadn't said it in front of Beverly, he couldn't be sure that
he would any time soon, but he'd crossed the line in his own heart. He
loved Wesley; he was part of Beverly and Jack. He was also a young man
who needed a father.

"Even if he's your son, Picard." Nechayev leaned further across his
desk, resting her hands on the glass. "I am not heartless. I know how
much you care for this young man, and how much you have invested in
his development. He once showed great promise as a Starfleet officer.
I'm afraid that is a choice he is no longer interested in pursuing. We
must respect that."

"I'm not asking that we drag him home in irons." Sighing, he looked
across at the admiral over his desk. "Beverly would like a chance to
say good-bye. I don't have the authority to negotiate with Cardassian
High Command, but-"

"I do." Nechayev waved him off as she finished his thought. "I can't
tell the Cardassians that a mother needs to say good bye to her son.
I'll be politely sneered off the comm channel."

One corner of his mouth turned up as he began to construct the idea;
Jean-Luc smiled at her.

"What about a humanitarian mission? The colonies we have just signed
over to the Cardassians will need supplies. We have given them up but
the Cardassians won't feel obligated to provide them with medical
supplies. The Enterprise is already out here. We have more than enough
to supply a few colonies."

She pondered the idea. "And your wife is a doctor," Nechayev replied.
"I do hope you won't be letting your pregnant wife beam down alone,
Captain."

Jean-Luc met her gaze and slowly began to realise she was more on his
side than he'd initially suspected.

"I had not intended to."

"Good." Nechayev pushed off the desk let her hands rest at her sides.
"I will contact the Federation Diplomatic Corp and ask that one of
their ambassadors will be dispatched. That ambassador will be in
charge of making contact with each of the former Federation colonies
and assessing their needs."

He set down his teacup and sat up straight in his chair. Even with the
strongest treaties in the galaxy, the Cardassians were not to be
trusted. He knew that in the pit of his stomach and he needed Nechayev
to know that too.

"You are aware that this ambassador will be exposed to potential
kidnapping, interrogation and whatever else the Cardassians might
consider fair reprisal for something they will possibly consider a spy
operation."

She held his gaze again; this time sympathy passed through her dark
eyes. She would have read the reports about his kidnapping last year
and though a report could never do his experiences justice, she would
then an idea of what Gul Moset had put him through. She'd been through
the war with the Cardassians. She understood.

"I have an idea who might be willing to volunteer," Nechayev said.
"Our relationship may have been frequently strained, Picard, but I'd
like you to believe that I'm not entirely incapable of making
friends."

Jean-Luc nodded, sharing her faint smile. It was entirely possible
that under better circumstances they could have been friends. She was
one of the more creative Starfleet admirals, and that went a long way
towards earning his respect.

"Thank you, Admiral. I shall look forward to meeting the ambassador."

"I'm sure she'll be pleased to see you again as well," she replied.
Nodding once, she began to take her leave. Nechayev paused at the
doorway and turned back. A faint smile flashed across her face again.

"Thank you for the crepes. Your raspberry sauce was excellent."

He stood up, straightening his jacket. Meeting her at the door, he
risked a real smile. "My new counselor suggested it. I'll pass along
your compliments."

"Andorians can be very dedicated epicures," Nechayev replied. "I'm
glad he's settling in."

"Everyone does, eventually," he said, following her to the turbolift.
He'd never escorted her all the way down to the transporter room, but
she'd never been this helpful before. "Commander Janeway is proving to
be an excellent first officer."

"I did not expect her to take Riker's promotion over her lightly."
Standing at his side as the turbolift whisked them down, she lowered
part of her guard. "It is not easy to know the stuck-up Starfleet
brass don't think you're ready for the big chair."

"Are any of us really ready?" Jean-Luc clasped his hands behind his
back and followed Nechayev through the corridor towards transporter
room four. "Most visitors choose transporter room two because it is
closest to the bridge."

The corridor curved with the hull of the Enterprise and was mostly
deserted.

Nechayev was still smiling, even content. "I've always had a weakness
for transporter room four. I'm partial to the lines of Galaxy-class
ships. There's a special artistry to them. More curves than we usually
see on Starfleet ships."

Touched by her affection for the ship, he relaxed. "If you walk down
to transporter room four, the corridor conforms to the secondary
hull," Jean-Luc said. "Deck thirteen runs along the underside of the
saucer section."

"When you reach the bottom, you have stars beneath your feet." She
actually smiled when she took the transporter platform. "Good luck to
you, Picard."

"Thank you, Admiral. Your assistance has been invaluable."

Nechayev straightened up and prepared for transport. "Thank me when
you see your son."

---

The hiss of the door opening and closing roused Beverly from her doze.
She shouldn't have been napping. She had a lot of reports to go
through and the last thing she remembered was sitting down to go
through them.

Dishes clinked over in their dining room. When she dragged herself to
her feet, which sent a tingling ache up her spine, she found him
clearing the table, munching on the last of the bread.

"You found company for dinner." Setting the plate from the pasta back
into the replicator, Jean-Luc looked over the table. He stole a tomato
from the salad in the large bowl and smiled when she caught him. "It
looks good."

Beverly ran her hand down the back of his neck. The soft fringe of
hair he still had left was familiar and comforting beneath her
fingertips.

"Kathryn overloaded her replicator again. While I was healing the burn
on her hand, I convinced her to eat with me instead. It seemed safer
for everyone concerned."

He chuckled sympathetically. "Is Geordi angry?"

"Not angry..."

She shifted her feet, trying to ease the ache out of her back. Nothing
worked.

"Geordi's fixed it four times in the last week. Apparently he's used
different parts, even started rebuilding the whole unit from scratch,
but she still finds a way to make it go nuts. I think it's possessed."

He wiped his hands on a towel and reached for hers. Jean-Luc held them
and then pulled her close to kiss her. She could taste the remnants of
balsamic vinaigrette on his lips and smiled as he held her.

"How's the baby?"

"Heavy. When she's born, you're carrying her for a while. Like the
next six months or so."

The complaint was halfhearted. Shaking her head, she leaned against
the table and watched as he asked the replicator for the same dinner
she'd shared with Kathryn a few hours ago. Taking his steaming plate
of pasta from the replicator, he sat down with the leftover bread.
Jean-Luc was too much of his mother's son to waste energy replicating
new bread when this bread would do.

She could apologise for forgetting to clear the table after Kathryn
left, but he'd stop her before she was halfway through. Instead,
Beverly sat down across from him and watched him eat. When he ate with
her, he took his time. Now, since it was well past when they usually
had dinner, he attacked his pasta ravenously.

"I'd say it was too bad that my first officer has such a terrible
relationship with her replicator, but I like that you have an
understudy for me at dinner."

Dipping his bread into the thick tomato sauce around the rim of his
plate, Jean-Luc made quick work of his food.

"You were late." Beverly toyed with a lock of her hair, watching him
with amusement. "Very late."

"I warned you," he said around a mouthful of food.

"That you'd be late?"

He swallowed and then chuckled. "That I was honoured to marry you, but
that you'd have to share me with the Enterprise occasionally."

"You're here when it counts." Reaching beneath the table to rest a
hand on his thigh, Beverly reminded him how much she needed him. "When
you're not in the holodeck."

Jean-Luc laughed into his napkin again and patted her hand. "You have
years of medical training. I have a good deal of catching up to do."

"You don't have to know everything," she reminded him, squeezing his
fingers. "Selar and all of my medical staff will be there. I didn't
have any complications with Wesley. I don't anticipate any this time.
Everything looks great."

Caressing her cheek with his free hand, he smiled gently. "I know. I
like feeling prepared. She's my first child."

"You're going to obsess about everything," she sighed. Releasing his
hand, she rubbed the foot pressing against her ribcage until their
daughter retracted it. Her frown drew his attention.

"Kicking?"

"Stretching." Wincing when their daughter's foot returned to jab into
her diaphragm, Beverly signed. "She's testing her limits."

"That would be your curiosity she's inherited."

"Oh no, this is your need to explore everything," she corrected. "When
you're done with dinner, perhaps you would take the time to explain to
your daughter that there are no mysteries in the flesh outside my
uterus and if she'll just wait two more weeks, she can see for
herself."

Jean-Luc obediently stopped eating and pushed out his chair. Turning
hers, he crouched down in front of her so he was even with her belly.

"Your mother would like you to know that as much as she appreciates
your curiosity about her body, it's very uncomfortable for her when
you kick your legs around, do somersaults or reach around with your
fists. Not that we want you to hold still, we'd just like you to do so
cautiously. You're a lot stronger than you know."

She'd heard that tone before, when he'd been dealing with children. As
much as he protested, Jean-Luc was wonderful with them and always had
been when he gave himself a chance. As he stood back up, returning to
his dinner, she caught him by the collar and tugged him down to kiss
him. Falling deep into his mouth, she sighed and held him close, his
forehead against hers.

"I love you."

"That is the idea." Holding her cheek, he kissed her forehead and
returned to his chair. "I was hoping we'd stay madly in love for the
rest of our lives."

Beverly's eyes stung happily and she smiled across at him. "I think I
could agree to that."

---

Kathryn stood in front of the transporter pad, trying not to fidget.
The technician behind her worked the controls and the Federation
ambassador that Admiral Nechayev had personally convinced to come all
the way out to the Demilitarised Zone appeared in front of her.

Ambassador Troi smiled serenely down from the transporter platform.
She stood formally, hands clasped in front of her, resplendent in an
orange and gold gown.

"Come now, there's no reason to be shy. How are you dear? How is that
nice-"

"Ambassador, " Kathryn interrupted formally. She didn't need to talk
about Chakotay now, in the corridor on the way up to the Observation
Lounge. Of course, the more she thought about him, the more likely the
ambassador would pull it out of her mind.

"You're exactly right, Kathryn. The more you think about his
attributes, the more I can pull them out of your mind. Not that I
would-" she chuckled. "Much." She paused, tilting her head and
beaming. "Oh, well, I am glad you could enjoy that- and that. Oh,
well, now I am impressed."

Blushing scarlet, Kathryn shook her head and realised she had to live
with the fact that the sordid details of her encounter with Chakotay
were far too easy for the ambassador to pick out of her mind. Lwaxana
had been there, on the other side of the wall, and that appeared to
have been more than enough.

"Thank you, Ambassador." Kathryn found the strength to speak
eventually. She remembered the nudge she'd received towards Chakotay
in the drunken fog of her mind the night before Beverly had been
married. The ambassador's good-natured self-satisfaction seemed to
confirm that Lwaxana had pushed her to give up her inhibitions.

"You only needed permission, nothing more. We all need to learn to
bestow on ourselves more of that." The ambassador paused, and the
steady swish of her silk skirts came to a halt. "You needed someone to
trust. We all do. Usually we look outward, scrambling for approval
because we don't know how to forgive ourselves for what we blame
ourselves for wanting. Sometimes, my dear, we want what we need. You
trusted me, and you had the chance to have him. You found something
there, didn't you?"

Kathryn stared at her, trying to decide if the ambassador was pulling
her thoughts from her mind or simply that wise from years of
experience.

"I've been in love, dear," Lwaxana answered Kathryn's thoughts. "I've
had plenty of chances to nurse my broken heart and wonder how the
universe works. Do you know what matters? Be happy. If this Chakotay
makes you happy, keep him around. Good men are a little hard to find."

Lwaxana touched Kathryn's shoulder, squeezing it like her mother would
have. It had been too long since she'd spoken to her. She'd been
meaning to write a letter, call her on subspace: maybe it was time
Kathryn did.

Lwaxana's smile returned to brightly professional. "Now, when is
Jean-Luc going to tell me why Alynna flew me all the way out here?"

---

Letting herself hold his hand was a concession on Beverly's part.
Squeezing it as hard as she was, startled him. Beverly forced her eyes
open, if she'd had them closed much longer, he would have started to
worry. Even now, there was pain in her blue eyes that he could take
away.

"Not the real thing." Hissing as she inhaled, Beverly shook her head
before he could worry. "More dress rehearsal."

"And it hurts."

"It does. Not too much. I tensed up and it hurt more." She released
his hand.

Jean-Luc wiped his palm on his trousers leg then offered it again as
she caught her breath.

"Then don't tense."

"Don't tense," Beverly repeated. "Don't tense. You make it sound so
easy."

He brushed her hair back from her forehead, feeling the hint of sweat
along her hairline. Everyone else would arrive for the meeting any
moment now, but he had her to himself until then. Leaving his chair to
sit on the corner of the observation lounge's glass table, he took her
hands from the cold glass of the table's surface and brought them into
his lap.

"Weren't you the one telling me labour was nothing to worry about?
You've done it before."

"Twenty years is plenty of time to forget what it was like before."
Beverly frowned, fidgeting with his fingers seemed to calm her a
little. He could see the tension slip out of her face.

"Ambassador Troi is on her way up from the transporter room right
now."

Saying that as an idea with hope attached was a tad ironic, but
Deanna's mother did have the might of the Federation behind her. The
Cardassians would have to respect a final relief mission with a
Federation ambassador at its head. Not many of the Federation
Ambassadors would agree to a potentially dangerous, yet far from
prestigious, mission and he had to admit that Lwaxana's unique energy
would not be unwelcome. Maybe her presence would distract Beverly from
the double stresses of their baby's impending birth and Wesley's
disappearance.

"That's who Nechayev found? Lwaxana agreed to come out here to babysit
us while we distribute medical supplies?"

Beverly's anxious tone did not mesh with her promise to relax and he
caressed the back of her head. Running his fingers down through her
hair, Jean-Luc leaned closer and kissed her forehead.

"I'm glad she's here."

"Oh Jean-Luc, now that's a first," Lwaxana announced from the doorway.

Kathryn followed her in, and his Number One's thoughts were elsewhere.
She looked distracted as she took her seat.

Jean-Luc returned to his own, but reaching beneath the table, he kept
a hand on Beverly's knee.

Data, Geordi and Worf arrived a moment later, thankfully late enough
that they did not see the captain calming his wife.

"You're so rarely happy to see me." Lwaxana took her chair, her
elaborate dress crinkling as she sat.

Jean-Luc cleared his throat. "In this case, Ambassador, you're exactly
who I want to see."

---

On the fourth planet they visited along the newly-Cardassian side of
the DMZ, people came out to greet them. Word must have been passed
along subspace and the colonists had specific requests. They were
simple people; mostly farmers and they wanted more dermal regenerators
and extra supplies of vaccines.

Lwaxana had been dragged aside by a mixed group of human and Bajoran
children and they seemed to be playing some kind of guessing game. She
was good with children and had them laughing and running around her
gleefully.

Worf stood behind Beverly. He hadn't left her side since she'd beamed
down and Beverly was beginning to think of the hulking Klingon as her
shadow.

"He does not appear to be here, Doctor."

Beverly stopped scanning the crowd for her son and looked over at the
security chief. "Thank you, Worf."

"I am sorry."

Sighing heavily, Beverly sat down on one of the full crates of
supplies. The case was hard and firm beneath her and taking the
pressure off her back nearly put tears in her eyes. Jean-Luc was
right, though she'd never tell him. This mission was too exhausting.
Planet after planet full of unsure colonists who didn't know whether
to be excited or afraid of her Starfleet uniform.

"It's all right, Worf." She had to wave him off before he started
hovering protectively. "I just need a moment."

"I will remain nearby."

Shutting her eyes, Beverly rubbed the centre of her forehead. Moving
her fingers outward towards her temples, she reminded herself that
this was the last one for the day. After this she could go back to her
quarters and she could crawl into bed for the rest of the day.
Jean-Luc would fuss a little about her doing her paperwork in bed, but
he'd bring her supper and they'd talk about nothing.

It was a very simple fantasy, but she took great comfort from it.

She waved Worf back over. His strong Klingon hands would be quite
welcome when she got to her feet.

Instead, a transporter took her. It was a cargo transporter and the
tingling sensation that enveloped her was rough, even crude. It had
been a long time since she'd felt anything like it. She was tired
already, and when the sheer white moment of unconsciousness arrived in
the middle of transport, Beverly never came out of it.

---

"It was a cargo transporter, old, possibly surplus." Worf began his
report at full attention. The Klingon was taking Beverly's
disappearance personally, just as Kathryn would have if she had been
there. "Dematerialisation took three-point-four- seconds, much slower
than any of the Federation transporters from the last ten years."

"It seems to have run through a relay point, maybe two," Geordi added.
" We found the first transporter relay satellite. It looks like
someone cannibalised a sensor beacon, put in a transporter relay
control and left it in space. It's clever but simple; anyone with a
few years of engineering experience could come up with it."

Doctor Selar, who sat on the opposite side of the table than Beverly
did, her hands folded in that neat Vulcan way that reminded Kathryn of
Tuvok. Data sat next to her, impassive as always. All of the senior
staff were tense and those who had emotions were artificially forcing
their calm.

Lwaxana sat in Beverly's chair, preventing it from being empty. The
lines around the ambassador's eyes were tight, and she must have been
fully aware of the turmoil the captain had buried beneath his mask.
Kathryn had rarely seen anyone shut down that quickly. From the
initial terror that gripped the captain at Beverly's disappearance, to
the white fury that someone stealing medical supplies had stolen his
wife, Picard was stone.

Doctor Selar spoke when the captain's eyes landed on her. "Cargo
transporters are medically safe, however, going through one or more
relay stations with the low levels of power could cause transport
shock and likely unconsciousness."

Data nodded quickly and agreed with Doctor Selar. "It is most probable
that Doctor Picard re-materialised unconscious at the destination of
the medical supplies."

"A ship, a small one that the Enterprise's sensors did not detect,"
Worf added. "A cargo vessel or a small raider."

Lwaxana tapped her fingers on the table once, just enough to draw the
captain's attention. He knew what she was about to say but he let her
say it.

"Starfleet intelligence believes some of the colonies along the
demilitarised zone are amassing resistance to the Cardassians. A
number of Starfleet officers have resigned their commissions to join a
resistance group calling themselves the Maquis. While I was down on
the colonies with Doctor Picard, Admiral Nechayev had tasked me to see
if I could sense any of the members of this Maquis."

Betazoids did make exceptional spies and Lwaxana was rumoured to be
one of the more powerful telepaths of her species. Kathryn's respect
for the ambassador rose.

"The colonists are concerned, and afraid, but there's an undercurrent
of anger towards the Cardassians that goes far beyond simple unrest."

Kathryn met Picard's eyes, feeling the pain in them as if she touched
a live plasma conduit.

"The Cardassians are a difficult race to trust," Picard said, drawing
the room back to silence.

Worf snapped his head to look at his captain. "The transporter beam
that took Doctor Picard was not Cardassian."

Picard's chin barely moved as he nodded. "So we'll need to deal with
the Maquis."

"Starfleet has no formal contacts with the Maquis." Lwaxana again
spoke for Picard. "Starfleet intelligence is only recently certain of
their existence. There are only a few agents undercover, most of them
so tenuously planted that we can't risk contacting them."

Chakotay's last letter had mentioned his resignation from Starfleet.
He'd glossed over the death of his father, and Kathryn had read the
anger between the words. The Cardassians had taken his father, just as
an icy little planet had taken hers. The hatred she had turned on
herself over the years since his death had dulled slightly but the
wound would be raw for him. She hadn't wanted to admit it, but if
there were an organised resistance to the Cardassians, Chakotay would
be part of it. His family was from near here.

All eyes came to her when Kathryn cleared her throat. "I might have a
way."

---

"I told you it wasn't safe to transport a person that way!"

Wesley jogged up the desert hill where the raiders landed. B'Elanna, a
temperamental half-Klingon woman who'd been a year behind him at the
Academy and had a brilliant mind for engineering, emerged with Seska,
one of the Bajorans.

Seska sat down on the ramp and shrugged. "We didn't mean to transport
a person. She must have been with the medical supplies when we beamed
them out. It's not our fault."

"We kidnapped a Starfleet officer." B'Elanna met Wesley's eyes for a
moment before she started to pace at the bottom of the ramp. "We're
not supposed to have any interaction with Starfleet. They're not the
enemy."

Seska glared at her. "The Federation abandoned us-"

"It was a bad treaty; they thought they were preventing a war. It's
not like the Federation threw all of these colonies to the wolves."
Wesley advanced on Seska, and she stared up at him as if she wanted to
press her sidearm into his neck. He looked past her at the dark cargo
area of the raider.

Tom Paris was on the medical rotation today, and he and another Maquis
were bringing out the Starfleet doctor they'd accidentally kidnapped.

B'Elanna punched Wesley's shoulder as she passed him. "Your
transporter relay system worked great."

"Thanks, I-"

Wesley stopped dead in his tracks. He'd been worried he might know the
doctor, or that he or she might know him and it would get back to his
mother that he was in the Maquis. He didn't want her to know that. Let
her think he'd run off because he was an angry young man, not that he
was a foolish, idealistic man looking for a fight with the
Cardassians.

Tom had the head of the stretcher, and he paused on the ramp leading
out of the Maquis raider to nudge the hand of the kidnapped Starfleet
doctor back to her chest.

"Hey, Wes. You okay? She someone you-"

Wesley's heart was in his throat, and the blood rushed through his
ears. His hands started to sweat and he kept his arms firmly at his
sides. Touching her might make it real.

"She's all right. Nasty case of transporter shock, and her extremities
are going to be a little tingly for a few days."

Tom was trying to calm him, but nothing the older man might say could
make it any easier. Tom's voice softened as he spoke, growing more
apologetic.

"Hey." B'Elanna grabbed his arm. "Whiz Kid. It's okay. He said she was
all right."

Wesley shook his head slowly. He'd expected Doctor Selar, or Doctor
El-Abhim. Maybe one of the nurses. Certainly not...

Tom shifted the stretcher and the part of the Starfleet doctor's long
red hair tumbled over the edge.

"The baby's fine too. Though, it kinda makes getting her back home a
priority. Don't suppose we can just hail whatever ship she came from
and have them come pick her up-"

"The Enterprise. She's from the Enterprise. Her name is Doctor Picard.
She's the chief medical officer."

Wesley wasn't sure if he'd said it aloud, but everyone around him had
their eyes on him, so he must have managed.

He swallowed past the lump in his throat and hoped his voice didn't
sound as lost as he felt. "She's my mother."

"Way to go." Tom rolled his eyes towards B'Elanna. "You kidnapped Whiz
Kid's mom."

B'Elanna glared at him in disgust.

Seska seemed vaguely amused by the whole situation. "How were we
supposed to know she was with the medical supplies?"

"We can send her back," B'Elanna added. "She'll be fine." She touched
Wesley's shoulder, trying to calm him down. "She'll be fine. Chakotay
will make sure she gets home."

"My-" Wesley choked on the word, his voice barely working. "My
sister's due in less than two weeks."

"Then we'll get her home fast." Tom smiled at him, trying to calm him.
"Look, Whiz kid, we're not kidnappers. You know we won't hurt her.
We'll get her home, okay?"

Wesley wanted to believe Tom's friendly look and B'Elanna's hand on
his shoulder. "Captain Picard's going to be looking for her. The
Enterprise-"

That drew Seska's attention. "He'll drag the Enterprise through the
Badlands to find his wife?"

"Wouldn't you?" Tom nodded to the other man carrying the stretcher.
"Let's get her inside."

Wesley followed them into the stand of buildings that made up the
Maquis village. Chakotay was the leader of this cell, and he was a
kind, intelligent man. He knew that Chakotay had known his mom on
Earth and he'd been at the wedding. Wesley knew that Chakotay would
ever let anything happen to his mother. Not that it made it any
easier.

Did protecting his mother mean that she would have to stay here until
they found a way to send her home? She was safe here, but Captain
Picard wasn't here and she couldn't have the baby here. She couldn't.

He'd stopped listening to B'Elanna and Seska argue and he didn't
follow Tom into the house they used for an infirmary. Wesley stood
there in the dusty street, trying not to think about why his mother
had beamed down on a suspected Maquis planet. He couldn't believe
Captain Picard had let her and for a brief moment, he let his rage
burn against the captain for letting her go.

But he couldn't blame Picard. This was his fault. She'd obviously been
looking for some news about him and his mother had been in the wrong
place at the wrong time.

Chakotay touched his shoulders, almost hugging him. He had been told
and now he was about to make sure Wesley wasn't about to betray them
all to get his mother home.

"I did this to her once before." Wesley swallowed hard and stared down
at his feet. "I got her trapped in a static warp bubble. She almost
died."

"Tom says she's fine. Transporter shock's a little like a concussion-"

Wesley didn't need to be told. "The neural pathways of the brain take
a few hours to adjust to being disrupted by a prolonged transport. The
effect is much more like a severe electric shock. Some neurons fire
too quickly, some fire at random, but it's temporary."

Wesley looked up, searching Chakotay's face for that sense of calm
Captain Picard had. "She has to be sent back to the Enterprise."

"We're not in the business of kidnapping Starfleet officers."

Chakotay released his shoulders and smiled at him. There was much
patience in his smile. Wesley could see why he'd been a good
instructor at the Academy.

"Wes, any operation to send her home has to be planned carefully. We
can't give away our position here; too many lives are at stake. We
can't just give her a ship and let her go because I know your mother
isn't the kind of pilot who can fly herself through the Badlands on
her own. We can't let her go on the edge of the Badlands because the
Cardassians-"

Wesley nodded, saving Chakotay from having to finish. His father had
just been killed by the Cardassians. Discussing them at all brought a
cold rage into Chakotay's voice that lingered for hours. If there was
one thing the Maquis agreed on, it was their hatred of the
Cardassians.

"Chakotay!"

One of the Bajoran children ran up and then tugged Chakotay's sleeve
so she could deliver her message. "Ayala's team is in ready."

"You don't have to come on this-"

Wesley shrugged. He knew what Chakotay was trying to do, but hanging
around waiting for his mom to wake up was just going to drive him
crazy.

"I'd rather go. Have something to do."

"We'll get her home."

"I know."

Wesley didn't tell Chakotay how much he hated that it was his fault,
or how he wished he could do anything to see his mother safely back to
Captain Picard and the Enterprise. Maybe if he'd had the courage to
face her before he'd left, but he hadn't wanted to fight. His mom was
happy with Captain Picard. She was happy with his little sister. How
was he supposed to tell her he hated the Academy? Or that everything
about the Federation's treaty with the Cardassians was wrong?

He'd spent his whole life doing the right thing, and now the right
thing meant fighting the Cardassians because there were colonies out
there that couldn't. She had to understand that. Captain Picard had to
understand that there were helpless people at the mercy of the
Cardassians and Wesley couldn't sit safely in his room at the Academy
while people died. Not while he could help them. Not when he was just
as angry as everyone around him was, and he had no idea why.

He wanted to hurt someone, remind Starfleet that they didn't have to
let the universe be an unjust place that needed someone like the
Maquis put things right.

---

continued in the fifth of the Acceptable Risk series - 'Acceptable Risk'