Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

AN: I’m doing this, especially, for myself and for one other person (who knows exactly who she is, and is a very bad influence in the best way possible). I am publishing it for anyone else who may want to enjoy it with us. I hope that some of you may want to enjoy it, and I accept if none of you do.

I own nothing from Star Trek.

Please know that this is a Triad story. If you don’t like that, then please find something that is better for you. This is not the story for you.

I beg suspension of disbelief here. I have taken a great deal of liberties, and I will continue to do so. Please do not expect anything here to be exactly canon.

If you choose to read, I hope you enjoy! If you do enjoy, please do let me know! It always helps with inspiration and motivation to know that people care about the story!

The second piece is coming very soon!

111

“We’ve received a message,” Geordi said.

“I thought communications were down,” Jean-Luc responded.

“They are,” Geordi said. “Along with the other damage I’m working on repairing, we’re not getting any messages out.”

“But they’re coming in…” Jean-Luc said.

“It’s impossible to say, really, what’s going on,” Geordi said. “I would have assumed that messages weren’t getting through—given that it would be reasonable that someone from Starfleet might be trying to reach us by now, but…”

“What is it that you’re not telling me?” Jean-Luc asked, when Geordi clearly hesitated.

“This one has a Romulan encryption,” Geordi said. “And it came through a channel that I thought was out of commission years ago.”

“And was it possibly sent using untraditional methods, as well?” Jean-Luc asked. He got a somewhat noncommittal nod from Geordi. “As if sent by…say…a Romulan spy?” Geordi gave another noncommittal nod. “I will take it alone. In my quarters. Can it be transferred?”

“Transferring now,” Geordi said.

Geordi said nothing more to Jean-Luc. Jean-Luc thanked him and encouraged him to get back to his repairs. He heard all that Geordi didn’t say—or, perhaps, all that he imagined he might.

Jean-Luc headed back to his room, feeling a bit unsettled. He couldn’t imagine what the message might want to communicate to him. He couldn’t imagine why she would encrypt it, beyond her natural nervousness as a former Tal Shiar member.

He couldn’t imagine how he was going to reconcile all the pieces of his past, now that they were very much coming crashing together in his present.

111

“Come,” Jean-Luc said, his voice catching in his throat.

“Jean-Luc…” Beverly said, her voice soft and sweet—and warmer than he felt like he deserved. His throat and his chest ached. It was moments like this that he wished that the body he’d been given hadn’t been designed to retain so much of who he was as a human. It would be easier, after all, to be able to switch off these emotions.

“Beverly,” he breathed out.

“You wanted to see me?”

“I always do,” he said. It earned a smile from her. It was true, though. He did always want to see her.

After twenty years of separation, they had come back together. Just as it seemed they always had before, they practically crashed into each other. The passion and the chemistry—it never seemed to change, no matter how hard either of them fought against what seemed to practically be a magnetic pull between them.

This time, Jean-Luc had learned that he had a son with Beverly—one that she’d kept hidden from him all this time. Together, along with their friends and former crew members, they had saved their son.

Now, they were facing the future—and the return to a normal life, however that may look now.

Jean-Luc and Beverly still had a great deal to discuss. They had a great deal to navigate, as they decided what their lives would look like now. They had to decide what to do with the love that they’d only just found again and barely had time to rekindle. What they did know, though, and what they’d agreed upon already, was that life was too short to keep fighting against what they felt. They were both keenly aware of that—perhaps, now, more than they had ever been before.

Beverly had been so much of Jean-Luc’s past, but she hadn’t been all of it.

“I’m afraid—that I haven’t been entirely honest with you, Beverly,” Jean-Luc said. “And, now—I’m not sure what to do.”

“This song sounds familiar,” Beverly teased. She walked over to where he was. She sat down next to him. She put a hand familiarly on his thigh and squeezed it affectionately. She had squeezed his thigh quite differently, this morning, when they’d made love—again—and she’d reached a hand back to make this same sort of gesture.

She sighed deeply, perhaps thinking of this morning, as well—or, perhaps, thinking of how many times they’d had this same sort of dance throughout their lives.

“What is it, Jean-Luc?” She asked. “Just the truth this time. I’m too tired for games.”

“You deserve the truth,” he said. “Forgive me if—I abbreviate the story a great deal. It’s quite long, and I am not sure that I have the time to spare. I’m a little—overwhelmed, I suppose.”

“Just the most important pieces will do,” Beverly said.

“About twenty years ago, two Romulans took refuge in my home. They were former Tal Shiar, and they were seeking asylum after turning on the Tal Shiar—for very noble reasons, I might add.”

“That’s almost certain death,” Beverly said.

Jean-Luc nodded his head.

“A brutal death, at that. We all know that. The supernova really destroyed the strength of the Tal Shiar, and these two Romulans, Zhaban and Laris—husband and wife—lived peacefully with me at the Château. He passed a few years ago, rather unexpectedly, and…well…the friendship between Laris and I…”

“Grew into something more?” Beverly supplied, when he hesitated. He must have made a face, or else Beverly was simply able to sense his reactions. She offered him a smile. “It’s been twenty years, Jean-Luc. I hardly expected you to remain celibate and wait for me.”

“And, yet, there has only been Laris,” Jean-Luc said. “In all this time.”

Beverly drew in a deep breath and let it out with a sigh.

“So—you love her,” Beverly said.

He nodded. There was no need to play games with Beverly. They were all tired—in more ways than one—and she deserved better than that.

“And I love you,” Jean-Luc said. “I have loved you longer. I have loved you for as long as I can remember.”

“There’s more to this story,” Beverly said.

“When I received your message, it was Laris that encouraged me to come,” Jean-Luc said. “She was going to Chaltok IV to do some security work on behalf of the Federation. She was going to work as something of a liaison between the Romulan colony there and the Federation. I believe that—she thought I wouldn’t come back. That I would find you, and…”

“Do exactly what you’ve done,” Beverly offered. She laughed quietly. “She’s smart, and it sounds like she knows you well.”

“She said that she would—watch the sunset in this little bar on Chaltok IV. She said she would save me a seat for when I came back. I don’t believe she was actually going to sit and wait for me every night, but…”

“You wouldn’t have come, otherwise,” Beverly said. “She knew that. I know a thing or two about…cutting lose the great Jean-Luc Picard.”

Jean-Luc swallowed. His whole being ached.

“Beverly…”

“Tell me the rest of it, Jean-Luc,” Beverly said.

“There was a message that came through—encrypted on a channel that Geordi didn’t realize was even still functioning. It was sent to me, and I knew her encryption code. Of course, I’m no fool, and I assume that she has more than one, but there’s always been one, in particular, that she has used with me, whenever such a thing was necessary. I was able to access her message and the attached files.”

“What does the message say?” Beverly asked.

“I think you should see it for yourself,” Jean-Luc said.

Beverly watched the message, as Jean-Luc watched it again. He felt more ill the second time he watched it than he had the first time—the reality of it all seeming to seep past what might have been shock from his first viewing.

The entire message was overwhelming—too much to process, really. It seemed as though it couldn’t be real and, yet, Jean-Luc knew that it must be real.

“Let me see this,” Beverly said, moving herself in front of the screen after the message played. “It’s encrypted, but it carries these files.”

“I haven’t opened them,” Jean-Luc admitted. “I was too…”

“I understand,” Beverly said. She did open them. He looked on as she scanned the information. At first, it made no sense to Jean-Luc.

“More Romulan concealment,” Jean-Luc said.

“On the contrary,” Beverly said. “Very important information. This is a bio code, Jean-Luc. The key codes for a bio sign. This information, put into a tricorder, would give me the basic information that I need on a patient who isn’t present to be scanned at the moment—but who I would need to prepare to treat. We use it, sometimes, when there’s a known incoming emergency. That’s not all Laris sent us…these are written in code, yes, but…Jean-Luc, these are coordinates. She’s telling us where to go. She’s telling us where she is—where they are.”

“The Enterprise is in dire need of repairs,” Jean-Luc said. “At the moment, we can’t even get the ship back to Starfleet Headquarters.”

“The Enterprise isn’t the best ship to take into this, anyway,” Beverly said. “We’re not going to fight the Tal Shiar, Jean-Luc. We’re just going to pull one Romulan out of there, if we can. A shuttle is a better choice for getting in and getting out.”

The message had been a little difficult to understand—likely owing to the fact that Laris was very clearly overwhelmed. There was a group of Tal Shiar—how large or small they were, Jean-Luc wasn’t entirely sure—that was making an effort to rise to power again. Secretive as always, they were attacking Romulan colonies. Chaltok IV, it seemed, was among those colonies. Several Romulans had been executed already. Others had disappeared. Those who were at risk of either, or both, of those fates, had begun trying to find out where the faction was located. They believed they had found them, and they believed that they could eliminate them before they grew to be a bigger threat. They believed they stood a better chance, if they could surprise them and begin their attack before bringing in larger entities that might only force them to go underground and come back later; bigger, stronger, and at a time when the guard was down again.

Laris was, it seemed, one among them that was going to fight.

Her message to Jean-Luc had been to tell him that she wouldn’t lead them back to the Château, and that his home and dog—Number One—were safe.

Her message had been to tell him—not goodbye—but, rather, why she might be delayed in finding him at the little spot where they would watch the sunset together. That was what she said. Jean-Luc knew, though, that she was only being positive for his benefit.

“What are you proposing?” Jean-Luc asked.

“She sent us the coordinates,” Beverly said. “She sent—this message to you, Jean-Luc, but this is her biological code for scanners and some very important pieces of medical information. She sent these to me.”

“Why? I don’t understand.”

Beverly laughed quietly.

“I would imagine that, if any human could understand Romulans, it might be you,” Beverly said. “Will warned me, without telling me everything, I know now, that you had been ass-deep in them for decades. Still—you aren’t always the most observant. She sent this to me, Jean-Luc. The message was for you, but this…this was for me.”

“For what? To help me past the grief of losing her?” Jean-Luc asked.

“She knows that you’ll tell the Federation where the Romulans are. You’ll pass on these coordinates. And she’s right; we will. She doesn’t have to be a traitor again—not exactly—and she may still stop some needless deaths. The bio code will help us find her. It will verify, for a brief amount of time, if she’s in a place or has recently been in that location. If we enter it into the scanners of the shuttle, we can track her, specifically, even if she’s being evasive, otherwise.”

“It isn’t safe…” Jean-Luc said.

“That’s never really stopped us before.”

“I don’t want to put you in danger, Beverly. Not after…just having found you again. Having found this.”

“And I won’t be left behind,” Beverly offered with a smirk.

“Our son…”

“Will find out when everyone else does,” Beverly said. “We’re not bringing Jack into this. If we do this, it’s just you and me. What do you say, Jean-Luc? Do you have another adventure left in you?”

“We may be putting our lives on the line,” Jean-Luc said.

“It wouldn’t be any fun, if we didn’t,” Beverly teased. “You love her, Jean-Luc. And—I’m not sure what that means for us, right now, but I know that I can’t just sit here and let her die without knowing that we tried something.”

“I don’t know that she wants rescuing,” Jean-Luc said. “Honor…”

“Is very complicated, and entirely ridiculous,” Beverly said. “Especially when it costs lives—good lives. We’ll leave these coordinates with a message to Geordi. As soon as communications are online, which is bound to be any time now, he can send them to Starfleet. They’ll help put down this uprising before it becomes any worse than it already has. In the meantime, we’ll go and stop Laris from losing her life to the Tal Shiar.”

“And if we’re too late?” Jean-Luc said.

“At the very least, you’ll know,” Beverly said. “You’ll know, and I’ll know…and maybe that’s all she really meant by sending me the information in the first place. But I’m a doctor, Jean-Luc, and I can’t sit idly by and allow death where there might be some way for me to stop it.”

“And if we all die?”

Beverly half-shrugged her shoulders.

“That’s a risk we accepted a long time ago,” Beverly said. She winked at Jean-Luc and his heart fluttered. “Today is a good day to die.”

“Wrong species,” he teased.

“Either way, we die with honor,” Beverly said. “Record a message for Geordi and leave it here with these coordinates. They’ll find it as soon as they know we’re gone. Transfer the coordinates to a PADD for us to use. I’ll pack a bag from sickbay, just in case. The shuttle has basic medical equipment, but a little extra won’t hurt. Meet me at the shuttle bay in half an hour.”

“Are we going to talk about…us, Beverly? My relationship with Laris. The complication of those two things together?”

“We don’t have time for that right now,” Beverly said. “But—if we don’t die? There’ll be plenty of time later.”

“That may mean that I’m only slipping death in one way to meet it another,” Jean-Luc said, laughing quietly.

Beverly kissed him. It was unexpected, but it was welcomed. For a moment, he indulged in the kiss. When she pulled out of the kiss, he could have sworn she was twenty years younger—that he was twenty years younger. At least, that’s how he felt, even if time clearly hadn’t reversed itself.

“Shut up and stop wasting time, Jean-Luc.”

He laughed quietly. His pulse pounded at the realization that this was real. They were really doing this—and he had no idea how it might turn out but, at least, they were doing this together.

“Yes, ma’am,” he offered with a wink.

Chapter Text

AN: Here we are, the next little piece for anyone who is interested! As always, suspension of disbelief and the understanding that this is purely for entertainment value is always appreciated!

If you read, I hope you enjoy. If you enjoy, please do let me know. It always means a lot to know that you’re reading and enjoying.

111

One could probably argue that neither Jean-Luc nor Beverly had always been known for making the safest decisions. If they had loved safety and the guarantee of it too much, they might have never joined Starfleet. Still, at the moment, Jean-Luc was beginning to definitely think that this decision was among some of their most questionable.

“The only thing I can do, at this point, is try to stay out of the way,” Jean-Luc admitted to Beverly. He was controlling the shuttle, while she was doing her best to follow the beeping sign indicated on the scanner.

“Stay out of the way,” she said, “but not too far out of the way.”

“Just far enough to keep us alive,” Jean-Luc said, laughing quietly.

He felt, at the moment, a great deal calmer than he probably should—caught up in a rather large Romulan firefight. Sometimes, the adrenaline of the moment seemed to have more of a calming effect on him than was typically expected. In fact, he sometimes found that he felt more anxious and less grounded when there was nothing going on—when the world around him was calm and still.

There was, more than likely, a great deal about himself to be explored in that realization, but it would have to wait until after this was done.

And that, he realized even as he slipped around the edges of a fight, was possibly one reason that he preferred the chaos—there was much less time for reflection and dealing with emotions.

“She’s out here,” Beverly said. “I have her sign.”

“The good news is that she’s alive,” Jean-Luc said. “The bad news is—we’re not likely to find her in this chaos.”

As he spoke, another of the small ships—very small fighter ships that were a more recent Romulan preference, since the supernova, and which they had always claimed were simply “patrolling ships,” despite their advanced firepower—exploded.

“Laris?” Jean-Luc asked, his heart feeling as though it came to a stop for a second.

“No,” Beverly said. “Her sign is still actively moving.”

“I went with her to one of the Romulan colonies not too long ago,” Jean-Luc said. “She was looking at the current security. Those little Romulan fighter ships have a lot more to offer than these shuttles do.”

“We’ll have to avoid engaging any of them in a battle,” Beverly said. “From the looks of things, we haven’t been noticed. We don’t bring any kind of real threat. They’re ignoring us.”

“That’s for the better,” Jean-Luc said. “They would have found our message as soon as they noticed us leaving the shuttle bay. Geordi’s been working on communications and repairs. Hopefully, he put a bit more emphasis on the communications for now. Starfleet should be here at any time.”

There was a flash of light as another of the fighter ships practically disintegrated.

“Not her,” Beverly said. “There—Jean-Luc—do you see this? Follow that signal. See if we can get closer.”

Jean-Luc followed what Beverly indicated, hugging the outside of the fight as much as possible. Around them, ships were being damaged. Some were exploding—gone as if they’d never existed. Jean-Luc couldn’t tell who was Tal Shiar, and who was fighting the Tal Shiar, but he imagined they must somehow know who was on what side.

As he followed the signal that Beverly indicated, one of the small fighter ships near them fired a shot that destroyed their target, but immediately took a hard hit from another passing fighter ship. The ship didn’t disintegrate, as so many had, but the damage was extensive to the point that Jean-Luc couldn’t imagine that it would last very long.

“Shit!” Beverly spat. “That’s her!”

“Is she dead?” Jean-Luc asked. He was already instinctively moving toward the little ship that had begun to drift. The other ships, assuming that it was damaged beyond repair and its pilot was likely lost, had moved away from it and were continuing their battle.

“It’s impossible to tell for certain,” Beverly said. “Wait—I’ve still got her. Her life sign is weak. Get me a little closer, Jean-Luc, so that I can lock onto her.”

“I’ll get in as close as I can. It’s moving away from us.”

“And away from the fight,” Beverly said. “Thank goodness for small blessings. I can’t get a lock just yet, but…almost. Hurry, Jean-Luc! Before something ignites and creates damage we can’t undo!”

Jean-Luc ignored her outburst. He knew that she had a tendency to get very involved in what she was doing. It was one of the things that made her a wonderful doctor—she was passionate.

“Got her!” Beverly said.

She left her station immediately, and Jean-Luc focused on steering the shuttle further away from the firefight. There was no reason to pretend that, in this shuttle, they had anything to offer in this kind of battle.

“Is she alive?” Jean-Luc asked.

“Yes, but barely,” Beverly said from behind him. “No—I’m not going to lose her. I’m not! Laris…don’t you dare!”

“Do you need my help?” Jean-Luc asked.

“Ignore me. Ignore us. Focus on what you’re doing, Jean-Luc. I know you need that, and that’s all you can do for now. That’s the best thing you can do for now. Just get us out of here,” Beverly said. “What I need is better medical equipment. A sickbay. Get us out of here, and look for those ships that I hope Starfleet is sending.”

Jean-Luc didn’t dare to send out a communication just yet. On the whole, the Romulans had been ignoring them because they saw them as absolutely no threat—a solo shuttle with limited shields and next to no firepower that had somehow gotten off its course. In fact, this particular shuttle model was so out-of-date, that they might have assumed it had been repurposed for some other job and wasn’t even as much of a threat as it was. If he sent out a communication, however, indicating at least the belief that there were Starfleet ships nearby, he would absolutely draw the attention of the Romulans.

Jean-Luc tried to listen to what was happening behind him with half an ear. On the one hand, he wanted to know what was going on. On the other, he didn’t want to know. There was nothing he could do at the moment, beyond what he was doing, and he needed to keep his mind on watching everything around him. Beverly had been right about that.

Beverly had been right about far more than Jean-Luc had ever given her credit for in the past. For Jean-Luc, his feelings, and the potential distraction caused by those feelings, had always been one of the reasons that he’d struggled with maintaining a relationship with Beverly. He feared the absolute heartbreak of losing her—of losing his love. He feared, too, the fact that his love, and the heartbreak it may cause, could distract him from doing his job well. Now, he was in love with two women, and he was struggling just to feel confident in his ability to do everything necessary to get them all to safety.

Jean-Luc didn’t ask how things were going, and he didn’t dare to even attempt to look and see for himself. He knew that he couldn’t do what he needed to do to keep everyone on the shuttle as safe as possible, if he were distracted with the likely reality of the situation. He needed to keep his emotional distance, just until he knew that this was out of his hands and he’d done all that he could.

Beverly seemed to know that because, though he could hear the occasional words from her—including words it seemed she was saying to Laris, who might not be able to hear her—she was keeping her voice low enough to keep him out of the loop. He had no genuine idea of what might be taking place aboard the shuttle.

Only Beverly’s occasional escaped swears—unusual, but not in truly dire circumstances, when she needed to release a little tension—really resonated at the moment.

Things weren’t going well, but the fact that Beverly continued to try meant that Laris had not yet slipped the proverbial mortal coils of this life.

Jean-Luc opened up the scope of their scans as soon as he felt they were far enough away from the Romulan firefight to risk doing so. He flew toward what he knew was Federation space at the highest speed the small shuttle would allow. The moment that he saw the scanners pick up signs of a Starfleet vessel, he felt like he might have a heartache from the sheer joy of it.

He sent a signal and did his best to raise the ship. It took three tries before he reached them.

Jean-Luc had never cared less for the name of a vessel or its commanding officer. He practically cut the captain off.

“This is Jean-Luc Picard,” he said. “I need immediate transfer of the remaining life signs in this ship directly to sickbay. This is an emergency. There’s no time to explain. I will gladly dock the shuttle and explain after they are safely aboard the ship.”

“They are already in sickbay,” the voice came back. “Transfer is complete. Now—would you please explain?”

“With pleasure,” Jean-Luc said. “I am Jean-Luc Picard. Recently reinstated to Starfleet, though I’m not sure the paperwork has even had time to go through. There was a Romulan uprising. Former members—or, at the very least sympathizers—of the Tal Shiar were attacking Romulan colonies. A small faction of peaceful Romulans have entered into a fight with them to try to put a stop to them before more Romulans are injured and they have a chance to grow and resume the sort of behaviors they have been previously known for. I am transferring the coordinates to you now. Please make Starfleet aware.”

“We are aware,” the captain’s voice came back. “Shuttle bay is open. We will drop shields, as you approach, long enough for you to dock the shuttle.”

“Understood,” Jean-Luc said. “You’ve been so kind—but could you please have an escort waiting? I would like to find sickbay as soon as possible. I will be happy to meet with whomever, if more information is needed.”

“Dock your shuttle. I’ll meet you, myself.”

111

Jean-Luc’s android body was built to be just as mortal as a human body, and he retained a lot of his former human self—even more than he really knew. He wasn’t fully aware of all the details about his new body. He knew some of the things that made him different from a complete android, but he didn’t know all of them.

At the moment, he was wondering if his new body was prone to heart attacks. He could barely breathe. His chest felt tight. His throat felt tight. He could practically feel that he had high blood pressure, though he wasn’t sure if it was real or merely a sensation made to make him feel more “normal” in certain situations.

He could hear the blood rushing past his ears. He could barely focus on the words of the captain—Captain Rutheford of the Sinclair.

He recited the story of how they’d gotten there as quickly and as accurately as he could, and he’d made his way on jellied knees to the sickbay of the ship. He must have taken his leave of the captain—and, perhaps, he’d heard some news of what might happen moving forward—but he’d hardly noticed any of it.

His brain felt almost feverish and his thoughts were slightly muddled.

All he could truly do was hope that all was well—that Beverly had nothing but good news for him.

There would be a great deal for them to discuss, on a personal level. There were going to be big decisions and conversations that Jean-Luc didn’t want to have. There would be discussions that he already dreaded. There was going to be a great deal of emotions that he would have to deal with in the coming hours and days.

But, at the moment, he felt more than willing to face all of those, just to hear Beverly say that Laris hadn’t succumbed to her injuries—which he knew, from the snatches of things he’d heard on the shuttle, must be truly severe.

As the sickbay doors opened, Jean-Luc had a moment of wondering if his knees would carry him any further. He scanned the sickbay—which was busier than he’d expected it to be, even with an emergency—for any sign of Beverly. Not finding her, he began to panic slightly. Then, he was suddenly face to face with a Caitian woman of considerable height.

“You must be Jean-Luc Picard,” she said, her voice carrying the typical accent of a Caitian that even a universal translator couldn’t erase. Still, it wasn’t as thick as Jean-Luc had heard from some Caitians.

“Pleased to meet you,” he said, trying not to offend anyone on the ship that might not understand his sense of urgency and panic. “I’m looking for Dr. Beverly Crusher.”

“I am Dr. M’Pram,” the Caitian offered. “I will take you to Dr. Crusher.”

“Laris,” he said. “The Romulan woman…is she alive?”

“She is receiving the best care possible,” the Caitian said. “Her injuries are extensive, but she is currently stable.”

Dr. M’Pram led Jean-Luc to an area that had been surrounded by privacy curtains. She pulled back the curtain to reveal a sign that Jean-Luc hadn’t expected in the slightest. Instead of finding Beverly hard at work keeping Laris alive, which was what he had expected, Jean-Luc found Beverly lying on the biobed with a nurse paying a great deal of attention to the work they were doing with her.

“Beverly?” Jean-Luc asked.

“Jean-Luc,” she said. He interrupted her, though, before she could say more.

“Where’s Laris? I don’t understand. Were you hurt? How were you hurt? We were never even hit…”

“Jean-Luc,” Beverly said, offering him a smile that he knew was an attempt to calm him, “I need you to…relax, OK? I’ll explain everything, but…I’m afraid it’s…well…it’s going to be easier for you to take if you’re as relaxed as possible.”

“Are you OK?” Jean-Luc asked.

“I think—we’re all going to be fine,” Beverly said. “But…we need to talk.”

Chapter Text

AN: Here we are, another piece to this one!

If you read, I hope you enjoy. If you do enjoy, please do let me know!

111

Jean-Luc was confused and overwhelmed, but he willed himself to calm as much as he could, knowing that Beverly could practically sense his emotions and would wait for the calm that she’d requested.

This, he reminded himself, was always why he had avoided getting—or, rather, staying—involved while he was an acting captain. He could remain absolutely calm in the face of some of the worst disasters. He could meet things with a level head and make clear and rational decisions.

All of that, though, seemed to go out of the proverbial window when matters of the heart were involved. Jean-Luc didn’t trust himself, honestly, when it came to keeping a perfectly level head in matters that involved Beverly—and, now, Laris.

Unfortunately, this situation seemed to involve both, and he was struggling to maintain even an ounce of the decorum that he expected of himself.

“I assure you, Beverly, that I am as calm as I am capable of being at this time,” Jean-Luc said, trying to watch the actions of the nurse and doctor and to unscramble some of what it felt like they were saying in a language that not even the universal translator could translate for him.

“Copper levels rising,” one of the nurses said.

An alarm blared. At the moment, it sounded more terrifying than a red-alert claxon to Jean-Luc. He found himself being somewhat pushed out of the way, as another nurse approached. Beverly was surrounded for what felt like a lifetime.

Jean-Luc was helpless.

In this sickbay, it seemed, his entire world was threatening to crash and burn before his very eyes, and there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t even fully understand what was happening.

And, then, the emergency of the moment seemed to pass once more. There was space made for him, and he stepped forward again. Beverly looked tired. She was clearly damp from perspiration. Still, she offered him a reassuring smile. He took the hand that she offered out to him and he kissed her knuckles.

“Please—don’t ask me again to be calm,” he said. “I don’t have it in me.”

From somewhere else in sickbay, another alarm blared.

“Go…” Beverly said, directing her words to the Caitian doctor. “Please—help her.”

“Monitor levels,” Dr. M’Pram said, giving orders to the one nurse that remained behind.

“Beverly…” Jean-Luc said, feeling now like he couldn’t recall what it was to feel his lungs entirely inflate with air.

She squeezed his hand.

“It’s alright, Jean-Luc,” she said.

He laughed quietly.

“You will forgive me if I say that I’m finding it entirely impossible to believe that,” Jean-Luc said. “I don’t understand what’s happening—what happened. I am feeling rather adrift, at the moment.”

“I’ll explain,” Beverly said. “But—I do think that…you need to brace yourself. This may be a great deal of information for you to deal with all at once.”

The nurse pressed a hypospray to Beverly’s neck, and she closed her eyes for a moment. The medicine clearly felt unpleasant as it entered her bloodstream.

“Iron levels are rising,” the nurse said.

“Administer another round of Cufenol,” Beverly said.

“Dr. M’Pram…” the nurse stammered out.

“Is very busy trying to save a life,” Beverly said. “I outrank her, and I’ve been doing this at least twice as long as she has and probably four times as long as you have. Administer another round of Cufenol now, before the copper levels rise again and your hesitation costs lives.”

The nurse seemed practically tearful, but she accepted Beverly’s order and disappeared a half a second to a replicator, before returning with the ordered hypospray. Beverly gritted her teeth through the administering of the second hypospray, and Jean-Luc squeezed her hand, not knowing what else he might do to help her.

She blew out her breath after a second, drew in a deep breath again, and repeated the action.

“Now?” She asked, her attention turned fully from him to whatever was happening.

“Iron levels are rising,” the nurse said.

“Copper?” Beverly asked.

“Falling, but still existent,” the nurse said.

“Continue to monitor. Wait thirty minutes, and administer Cufenol…unless there’s a spike in copper levels. Please—go and check on things with the other patient and report back to me? I’ll be fine. My levels will hold steady for at least ten or fifteen minutes, no matter what.”

The nurse nodded, but she looked a little reluctant as she left the space.

“Beverly…” Jean-Luc said. He shook his head. He didn’t even know what to say anymore.

“I’m fine,” Beverly said. “Improving every minute. I promise.”

“Improving from what? I don’t understand!” Jean-Luc said.

“I know,” Beverly said. She nodded her head and squeezed his hand. “Before I say anything—was there anyone else that you were worried about?”

“What?” Jean-Luc asked.

“Out there…watching those ships. Was there anyone else that you were worried about?” Beverly asked.

“Laris…” Jean-Luc said.

“They’re doing everything they can for her,” Beverly said. “And as soon as I am able, I’m going to do everything I can for her. But—focus on what I’m asking you. Besides Laris, was there anyone else?”

“I know many of the Romulans that were out there, more than likely, but…”

“Shhh,” Beverly said, laughing quietly. “You’ve answered my question well enough. Jean-Luc…I don’t know how else to tell you this without simply telling you. When we beamed Laris aboard, her injuries were extensive. There was evidently an explosion at her console. The burns were extensive. There was also a great deal of internal injury from the impact of the beam. The damage to that small flier was impossible for us to see, but…there was a great deal of shrapnel embedded in her body.”

“She’s not going to make it, is she?” Jean-Luc asked.

“We’re going to make sure that she makes it,” Beverly said, with more confidence than Jean-Luc was sure that the situation truly allowed. “My first scan revealed, however, that she wasn’t alone.”

“There was someone else in the flier?” Jean-Luc asked.

Beverly smiled and nodded.

“A tiny passenger,” Beverly said. “Someone that—I imagine Laris knew was there, but she may have only just become aware of it. I’m assuming that…she hadn’t had time to tell you about her partner in all of this.”

“Partner?” Jean-Luc asked.

Beverly smiled, even though her eyes glittered with unfallen tears.

“Jean-Luc…Laris was pregnant,” Beverly said.

“Pregnant…” Jean-Luc said, hearing the word, but feeling quite unable to comprehend it.

“Half human,” Beverly said. “I believe—we have discovered another part of your previous self that was left intact with this android body.”

“Pregnant?” Jean-Luc repeated.

“A baby, Jean-Luc,” Beverly said.

“Laris was pregnant?” Jean-Luc asked. Beverly nodded. Suddenly, the whole thing settled like a lead weight in Jean-Luc’s stomach. He couldn’t quite fathom why Beverly looked as happy as she did, even as large tears dripped down her cheeks. Jean-Luc reached and wiped them with his fingers, still feeling as though everything about this moment was somehow happening in slow motion and entirely outside of his actual reality. “‘Was pregnant’ means that…she is no longer pregnant.”

“No,” Beverly said, “but…”

“If she knew, then…we’ll have to tell her that…it couldn’t possibly make it,” Jean-Luc said. “Laris was pregnant. We never discussed that, because I never thought it was a possibility, and now…”

“Jean-Luc…” Beverly said, interrupting him, her voice a touch loud and a bit sharp, to cut through his thoughts and rambling. “I haven’t finished.”

“What else is there to say?” He asked.

“A great deal,” Beverly said. “The damage to Laris’ body was extensive, and I was very limited on what I could do for her. I knew that I could prolong survival—hopefully long enough for Starfleet to find us and get us to safety, where she could get better treatment. I also knew, though, that I had to lessen the load on her system. Her body couldn’t save both of them. It was too much strain. I knew the baby was very small. It wouldn’t survive if Laris died. I had to make a decision, Jean-Luc. I wish that I hadn’t had to make a decision on my own, but there wasn’t any time to waste…”

“You made the best decision,” Jean-Luc said, interrupting her. “You made the best call. You always do. Don’t doubt yourself now. The baby wouldn’t have made it, if Laris had died. It’s better to save the life you can, than to lose everyone.”

She laughed. There was an unmistakable touch of irony in the sound—not a genuine laugh.

“Thank you for the validation, Jean-Luc,” Beverly said. “To give Laris the best chance that I could, I lessened the load on her body. I transferred the fetus.”

“Transferred?” Jean-Luc asked. “Where? Forgive me, but is that a medical term for…for…forgive me, but…termination?”

“Termination is a medical term for termination,” Beverly said. “I couldn’t make that call, Jean-Luc. I didn’t want to. The baby was healthy. Her body was giving everything it could to keep the little thing safe, even through all of that. She would have sacrificed herself. It’s her body’s instinct. She would have died to give it a few more moments of life. I couldn’t terminate the pregnancy, Jean-Luc.”

“I don’t understand,” Jean-Luc said, growing frustrated.

“It’s so much, and I’m sorry…” Beverly said. “The baby was healthy, but it needed a healthy womb, Jean-Luc. There was one available. I knew that I would need help. Laris’ had clearly been taking supplements. She was taking care of the little thing. Cross-blood type pregnancies can end terribly if the mother isn’t doing everything necessary to help the baby’s blood type come to match her own. The baby was half-human, but I could see that it scanned as copper-blooded. Laris was doing everything right, and I knew that I was going to need help, but I knew that it could last until we could get that help—as long as Starfleet was on the way. I wish I had had better equipment to make things go more smoothly, but I used what transporter system I had available. I made the transfer just moments before you hailed the ship.”

Jean-Luc felt realization seeping into his system.

He felt it sliding down—running down—coating the walls of his brain.

For what seemed like an eternity, he was acutely aware of the distance he felt from the moment, from himself, from Beverly, from the sounds of the sickbay staff working in the same room but, somehow, far away, to keep Laris alive.

Realization seeped slowly into his system, and Jean-Luc felt like the reality his brain imagined couldn’t possibly be real.

“Copper blood…” He said. It wasn’t useful. It meant nothing. Still, he suddenly felt as if he knew no language at all.

Beverly gave him a reassuring smile and nodded—an act meant only to comfort him, since he’d said nothing with which she could really agree. He’d said nothing that meant anything.

“I’m taking the supplements now,” Beverly said. “See the monitors? They’re monitoring both of our levels. It’s so strong, Jean-Luc. It’s so small, but…it’s so strong. Like it’s mother, it’s fighting.” She laughed quietly. “This little one is making the best of every bit of Romulan in it—and every bit of Picard.”

“The baby…” Jean-Luc said.

“The levels of copper are dropping,” Beverly said. “It’s responding so well. Its iron levels are rising. Soon, I won’t even need the support. The blood I make will be perfect for it.”

“There’s a baby…” Jean-Luc said.

Beverly nodded and tugged the hand that she was holding—the hand that had been holding hers, earlier. Jean-Luc had almost forgotten that he’d had hands entirely. Now, they seemed to slowly be coming back to him. He felt like he was slowly drifting into the room.

He stepped forward one more step. She caught his other hand. He was aware of the tubing going into her hand. It would deliver fluid and possibly other medications. She took his hand and pressed it to her body, over the gown she was wearing—a gown they would have changed her into very quickly, to have access to her body.

Her body was warm beneath the gown. The baby in question would be there, in her womb, adjusting to its new home. Jean-Luc rubbed his fingers there, where she had placed his hand.

“I don’t feel anything,” he said.

“The baby is measuring at seven weeks Romulan gestation,” Beverly said. “Romulans carry their babies for approximately a year. I’m not sure what that’s going to mean for now, but we’ll figure it out.”

“She hadn’t said anything,” Jean-Luc said.

“She likely didn’t know about the baby until after you left,” Beverly said. “She would have known that you might come back if you knew. She would have known that you needed to do everything that you did. She took care of the baby, Jean-Luc. She probably started the moment she knew with the supplements and vitamins that were necessary—that are necessary—to carry this kind of hybrid pregnancy to term.”

“This means that you’re…pregnant?”

“It wasn’t my plan,” Beverly said with a laugh. “Not when I woke up this morning, but…yes. I’m carrying this baby. Your baby, Jean-Luc.”

“My baby…I’m sorry, I’m just…”

“It’s a lot to take in,” Beverly said. “I don’t think it’s entirely sank in for me, either. I’m just—focusing on getting everyone stable.”

“Are you...?”

“I’m fine,” Beverly said. “Look. The levels are stabilizing. In an hour or two, the baby will be fully integrated. Settled in, I guess you could say. I’m handling it well. The baby is handling it well.”

“Laris,” Jean-Luc said, shaking his head.

“She’s going to be fine,” Beverly said. “We’ll do everything we can for her. You’ll see. In a few days, she’ll be on her feet.”

“We’ll have to tell her,” Jean-Luc said. “I have to tell her that I know. I have to tell her about all of this, and I don’t even know where to begin. I feel like I can hardly understand it all myself.”

Beverly squeezed his hand. She gave him another reassuring smile.

“We’ll tell her together,” she assured him. “Now—I’m sure they’re giving us a little space. Why don’t you—see if you can find someone to give me an update on things. I’m grounded, right here, for just a little while longer.”

“You need to rest. Take it easy,” Jean-Luc said.

“I’ve been pregnant before,” Beverly said. “Never with a Romulan hybrid, but…how different can it be? I’ll take care of myself, Jean-Luc. I’ll take care of both of us.”

“And I’ll take care of all of you,” Jean-Luc said.

“For now—find someone to give me an update? To give all of us an update?”

Chapter Text

AN: Here we are, another piece to this one. I only recently posted Chapter 3, so please make sure that you read that one, first, if you missed it.

I do hope that you enjoy! If you do, please do let me know!

111

“I’d like to do a scan,” Doctor M’Pram said, “just to have a look at everything.”

“Later?” Beverly said. It was a question, but Jean-Luc also sensed that it was also a request. The Caitian doctor looked at Beverly with a slightly furrowed brow, but there was also an unexpected tenderness or familiarity there that he couldn’t truly account for based on how little time they’d known each other. “When she’s awake, it may do her good to have a chance to see the baby,” Beverly added.

“We’ll do another scan then,” the doctor agreed. “If you think that’s best. For now, I would like to see how things are going.”

“Understood,” Beverly said, nodding and ceding the point.

“A scan?” Jean-Luc asked, as Doctor M’Pram began moving things around.

“A visual scan to see the baby,” Beverly said. She drew in a deep breath and let it out. This sigh sounded like one of exhaustion more than the ones of discomfort that Jean-Luc had been hearing throughout their time aboard the Sinclair—what felt like weeks, now, but had only been hours.

Jean-Luc squeezed her hand. He raised it to his lips and kissed her knuckles. She gave him a tired smile.

“You’re exhausted,” he said. “You were exhausted before all of this, and you haven’t rested.”

“And I’m pregnant,” Beverly said. She made a noise—something along the lines of a laugh. She ran her hand over her abdomen. She was very thin—Jean-Luc had noticed that when they’d made love to each other not a whole day in the past, though it felt like a lifetime ago. Now, there was a bump there that was noticeable to him, though he doubted that anyone who hadn’t spent time carefully studying Beverly’s body would have noticed it. “I guess I should get used to be tired.”

“You’ve been through a great deal in a short amount of time,” he said. “You need to rest and recover.”

She hummed.

“At least the baby’s iron levels are good,” Beverly said.

“They’re perfect,” Dr. M’Pram said, purring out the word a bit more than someone who wasn’t of her species probably would have done. “The fusion appears complete, but I would like to have a visual check of everything. Do you mind?”

Beverly allowed her to readjust the gown, moving it out of the way and covering Beverly with a blanket, so that she wasn’t exposed though, at this hour, there were very few people in sickbay.

Laris was in an intensive care containment field. She was still in critical condition, but she was growing more stable by the moment—that’s what they’d been told. There was a team that was still working with her, having traded out with the team that was there before, and they wouldn’t allow Jean-Luc to even see her closer than at a significant distance, until they felt that they had done enough work healing her to keep her from possibly picking up some sort of infection from his mere presence.

For now, all he could do was trust them to do what needed to be done, and take care of Beverly as much as possible.

“Are you comfortable?” Dr. M’Pram asked.

“Yes,” Beverly assured her. “And ready to see how things look. I admit—I would have liked a better transporter than what I had. I was scared that I might not be able to pull this off. If it hadn’t been an absolute emergency, I never would have tried with that equipment.”

“Remarkable,” Dr. M’Pram offered, “given how much precision was needed.”

Jean-Luc closed his eyes a moment and willed his mind not to focus on all the possible ways that every last bit of this could have gone terribly wrong. For now, the only thing that any of them needed to focus on were the positive aspects of everything.

“There we are,” Dr. M’Pram said. Jean-Luc opened his eyes to see what she and Beverly were seeing.

“My goodness,” Jean-Luc said, before he could stop himself. Both women looked at him. “Well, it’s just—it doesn’t look…does it look as it should?”

Beverly laughed. Her laugh was almost musical.

“It’s a seven-week-old fetus, Jean-Luc,” Beverly said.

“Half-human and half-Romulan,” Dr. M’Pram said. “A very unusual combination, but we have enough of the same sort of hybrids between humans and Vulcans, that there are some guidelines in our databases.”

“The fusing is complete,” Beverly said. “Do you see that, too, Doctor?” She leaned forward slightly and traced her finger along the screen, where the doctor had brought it close enough to her to do so. It was clear that the Caitian considered Beverly her patient, but she also recognized that they were collaborating with each other, to some degree.

“It’s remarkable,” Dr. M’Pram said. “Your body is responding to the transfer far better than most I’ve seen in studies. I’ve been reading a lot since you arrived. This is the first transfer of its kind.”

Beverly hummed to acknowledge that she was listening. She’d placed her own hand over the doctor’s hand, and she guided the apparatus that was allowing them to see things on the screen.

“The cord is correctly fused,” Beverly said. “There is no rejection of the placenta. It’s connected. There are no apparent leaks. Nothing that hasn’t sealed as it should.”

“Copper levels are virtually nonexistent now,” Dr. M’Pram said. “However, I recommend continuing with the Cufenol, just as we would recommend with any hybrid pregnancy.”

“Of course,” Beverly said. “The vitamins, as well. The amniotic fluid is increasing.”

“Rather rapidly,” Dr. M’Pram said. “However, I wouldn’t recommend stopping with the supplements for that, either, until we’re completely satisfied with your fluid level. If you don’t object, I would like to draw a sample of the amniotic fluid for analysis.”

“I will agree,” Beverly said, “but only under the stipulation that you stop, immediately, if there’s any sign of distress.”

“Of course,” Dr. M’Pram assured her.

Jean-Luc hadn’t known what to expect, but he’d held Beverly’s hand through the procedure that had made him uncomfortable, even though she’d assured him that it was tolerable—especially to be certain that the amniotic fluid was correctly balanced for the fetus. When Dr. M’Pram had what she needed, she’d remained to scan Beverly a few moments more, reassuring herself that everything was as good as it could possibly be.

“I tolerated the suffering,” Beverly said, her voice thick with fatigue. Jean-Luc was exhausted. He knew that she had to be, too, since she hadn’t slept any more than he had. “Now—can I have the good part? I’d like to hear the heartbeat.”

Doctor M’Pram smiled at her.

“Of course,” she purred out. She moved something, and Jean-Luc was overwhelmed by the sound that he heard.

“That’s the heartbeat,” Beverly said with a smile. “Oh—Jean-Luc, listen to it. It’s so strong!”

“And extremely rapid,” Jean-Luc said.

“Fetal heartbeats are usually fast,” Beverly said, “and Romulan heartbeats are extremely fast.”

The doctor had begun to put things away. The scan was through. The baby was healthy, it seemed, and so was Beverly—even if they both still had some adjusting to do to their new situation.

“Forgive me,” Jean-Luc said. “I believe—I am simply overwhelmed. I am having a very difficult time processing everything. I understand that there is, indeed, a baby, but…it almost seems impossible that it’s truly real.”

“It’s very real,” Doctor M’Pram said. “Though I have to admit that my sickbay hasn’t seen this much excitement in a while. I’d like you to stay here overnight for observation. You’re free to move about, if you’d like. Tomorrow, we’ll assign you quarters.”

“And Laris?” Jean-Luc asked.

“I want to see her,” Beverly said. “I’d like to start helping with her treatment as soon as possible.”

“The burns have almost all been healed,” Doctor M’Pram said. “Major bleeding has stopped. There is still some minor internal bleeding that’s being worked on at this time, and she’s been placed in a full-body regenerator to help with the rest of the burns and damaged tissues. Most of her organs are functioning independently, though her lungs are healing a bit more slowly than the rest.”

“There was a large piece of…her ship,” Beverly said.

Doctor M’Pram nodded.

“It pierced one lung entirely. It did damage her heart, as well, but that tissue is healing well and more quickly than the lung tissue. At first, there was a bit of struggle keeping enough fluids and supplements going to support the healing, but we’ve adjusted for her increased metabolic rate and her muscle density.”

“What does all this mean?” Jean-Luc asked.

“She’s going to be OK,” Beverly said. “She needs some time, and she need some care, but…she’s going to be OK. We have both time and care to offer her.”

“She should be stable enough to transfer to another facility in twenty-four hours,” Doctor M’Pram said. “If that’s what you want. I’m predicting forty-eight to seventy-two hours before she’s ready to get on her feet.”

“Is she conscious?” Jean-Luc asked. “Can I see her?”

“She’s being kept under sedation for now,” Doctor M’Pram said. “And I would rather keep her away from the risk of any infection for a little longer.”

“It’s for the best,” Beverly offered, patting Jean-Luc. She looked at the doctor. “I’d like to evaluate her in the morning.”

“I have no problem with that,” Doctor M’Pram said. “For now, I’d like to request that you try to get as much rest as you can.” She looked at Jean-Luc. “There is an open bed over there. You may sleep there, if you like, or I can find out what quarters have been arranged for you.”

“I would rather stay close,” Jean-Luc assured her.

They both thanked the doctor and she left them.

Jean-Luc leaned over her and stroked Beverly’s cheek.

“I don’t even know what to say,” he said. “I don’t know—how to proceed from here.”

She smiled at him and stroked his cheek in response.

“For every time you’ve told me I’m exhausted,” Beverly said, “I can’t help but notice that you’ve failed to see that you’re exhausted, too, Jean-Luc. You’ve been through a great deal, yourself. You have a lot to process. You have a lot of emotions that you haven’t even begun to feel. I know you, Jean-Luc. You need to feel your feelings. If communications are up, I know that everyone knows where we are. Tomorrow, we’ll reach out. We’ll contact Jack. We’ll discuss the future—where everyone and everything goes from here. We’ll talk to Laris, as soon as she can safely be brought out from under sedation.”

“I don’t want to leave you,” Jean-Luc said. “I don’t want to take my eyes off of you. Some small part of me halfway believes that, after all that we’ve been through—I may simply open my eyes to find that you’re no longer here, or that I’m not.”

“You are exhausted,” Beverly said. “But—so am I. Come here—there’s enough room for us here, and I know that you won’t let me fall.”

Jean-Luc started to protest, but Beverly asked him, again, to join her on the bed. He was surprised to find that they both fit on the bed, although with little room to spare, and he sighed to feel her in his arms. She sighed, too.

“This is much better,” she said.

He laughed quietly.

“I was just thinking the same,” he said. “Though…”

“Go ahead,” she pressed.

“It is overwhelming to think that…we are not the only two gathered here.”

“I’m still getting used to that, myself,” Beverly admitted.

“I haven’t been considerate enough of all that you’re going through,” Jean-Luc said.

She laughed in response.

“You’ve been nothing but considerate,” she said. “Now…go to sleep. We’re both going to need our rest for tomorrow. It’s going to be another busy day, and we’re both going to need to have as much patience, understanding, and consideration as possible when we speak to Laris. She’s going to need everything either of us can offer her.”

Jean-Luc started to say something else, but Beverly shushed him.

“Hush now, Jean-Luc. Just hold me, and let’s sleep for now.”

Jean-Luc drew in a breath and let it out slowly. He focused on the feeling of Beverly in his arms. He focused on the way that he could feel her breathing. He focused on the sound of her breathing—a promise that she was there. He listened to the sounds coming from where he knew that Laris was being treated—where she was healing. Her monitors, now, marked sounds of life. It had been some time since one of the claxons sounded that made him fear that they would announce her death. He let the sounds of her life soothe him as much as they could. He felt the weight of his own body. He felt the slightly unnerving sensation like both of them were rocking on a ship caught in a storm. He recognized it as one of the effects of absolute exhaustion.

He worried that his concerns about everything would keep him awake. Mercifully, however, his exhausted mind allowed him to drift off into a restful, deep sleep.

Chapter Text

AN: Here we are, another piece to this one. Of course, when dealing with “health” scenarios in a Trek setting, suspension of disbelief is requested and appreciated.

I hope you enjoy! If you do, please do let me know!

111

“Are you OK?” Jean-Luc asked. He held tightly to Beverly—he tried to remind himself that he shouldn’t hold her too tightly, but she was precious to him. Getting her back after losing her for so long, he had really come to recognize just how precious.

Beverly flushed slightly. She smiled at him.

“It’s not much, but my center of gravity is…off,” she said. “It’s to be expected,” she added quickly. “It’s normal, Jean-Luc, I promise. Well—as much as any of this is normal. I didn’t have the luxury of adjusting to the baby since conception. We haven’t grown together. I have to get used to it a bit suddenly, and that’s just…an adjustment. The baby is heavier than I would have expected.”

“Heavier?” Jean-Luc asked. He moved a hand toward her belly, where there was the smallest show of a baby on her otherwise thin frame. He hesitated, wondering if he might be overstepping some boundary. Things were still so delicate, he felt. Beverly caught his hand and moved it, for him. He didn’t know what he expected to feel. He wasn’t sure that there was really anything to feel except for Beverly’s body beneath his palm, and a certain sensation that came from knowing that, deep inside her, there was another life.

Beverly hummed.

“It’s tiny, and I certainly don’t mean that it’s truly heavy, but…well…I’m sure it’s the fact that the baby is half-Romulan.” She laughed quietly. “I’m not at all used to carrying baby Romulans.”

Jean-Luc made a face at her to communicate that he didn’t really understand. All of this, really, felt very much beyond his understanding. The most he could do was listen and do his best to offer whatever support was needed.

“Muscle density is very different for Romulans. Everything about Romulans just—weighs more. Surely, if you’ve ever supported Laris’ weight, you’ve noticed that…well…she’s likely far heavier than she looks.”

Jean-Luc felt his face burn warm.

“Forgive me,” he said, “but that isn’t the sort of thing that one comments on, so I’ve put it out of my mind.”

Beverly laughed quietly.

“I’m not even sure that it would bother her, if you pointed it out.” Beverly said. “She knows that her body composition is different than that of a human. She also doesn’t necessarily have the same perspectives on things as human women do unless, of course, having lived so long among them, she’s picked a few things up. I know a fair amount about Romulan physiology at this point, but it’s a different thing, entirely, to suddenly find myself carrying a half-Romulan baby. It’s nothing dramatic—at least, not yet—but I can absolutely notice a difference from carrying Wesley and Jack, especially at seven weeks of gestation.”

“What can I do to help?” Jean-Luc asked.

Beverly laughed quietly.

“Just support me a little, while I get my sea legs back,” she said. She leaned into him, and he felt his chest tighten with affection.

“I will be happy to support you until then—and long after.”

She smiled at him and offered him a kiss that he was more than happy to take and trade for one of his own.

Then, together, they started off on the short walk around the corridors of this deck of the Sinclair, giving Beverly a chance to stretch her muscles and make sure that she felt as good as she thought she did, before she was “officially” released by Doctor M’Pram to assist in the sickbay.

111

Beverly heard the sounds of distress at the same time as Jean-Luc, and she was the same distance away, studying a few of Laris’ statistics on a PADD, but her reaction time was far faster than Jean-Luc’s. He assumed it likely had to do with a lifetime of responding to emergencies in sickbays.

Beverly was by the bedside, already, when Jean-Luc approached, and she was already giving her opinion on how things ought to proceed.

They had decided that, though Laris wasn’t completely healed, they should begin to try to bring her out from under the very heavy sedation, so that they could get some idea of what her body was currently experiencing—and, possibly, needing—that they couldn’t fully observe with such absolute unconsciousness.

Jean-Luc kept a little distance, allowing the medical team to be closest to Laris. They agreed on a sedative—much lighter than what she’d had before—and Jean-Luc watched as it was administered. It seemed to do nothing to calm her. She was very clearly disoriented, distressed, and her emotional turmoil was causing physical turmoil that was likely uncomfortable. In short, everything seemed to be creating something of a loop in which everything kept building on itself.

Every one of the monitors was responding with a cacophony that made Jean-Luc cover his ears against the harsh and terrifying noise.

“Laris—Laris—I need you to do your best to relax,” Beverly said. Doctor M’Pram had stepped away, temporarily leaving everything in the hands of Beverly and the few young nurses that were working this shift in the otherwise empty sickbay. Laris had been coming out from under the sedation, but it seemed as though she’d taken the last leap back into consciousness with the immediate desire for a fight. “I need you to try to relax, Laris,” Beverly repeated. “I need you to try to listen to me. You need to try to calm down. You’re restrained for your safety.” Jean-Luc noticed that she didn’t mention that the restraints had also been put in place for the safety of others. They weren’t sure how Laris would act coming out from under the sedation, and they didn’t want her to accidentally be a threat to others, knowing that she would deeply regret it as soon as her senses returned entirely. “Your heart and lungs are badly damaged. They need more regeneration time. The shell that you’re wearing is a specialized regeneration unit. We’re going to help you get better, and everything will be fine, but I need you to calm down as much as possible.”

Jean-Luc had lived with Laris for two decades. Still, he had never seen in her eyes what he saw now —something of a wildness that reminded him, in a way that he completely forgot on a regular basis, that she was of an alien species. She screamed out with a sound that sounded both painful and pained. It seared through Jean-Luc as surely as the pieces of her ship had sliced through her body.

“I told her that she wasn’t pregnant anymore,” the young nurse who had been responsible for monitoring Laris as she worked her way out from under sedation said. It was a pained confession. She winced at Beverly, clearly recognizing that what she’d done wasn’t the best thing that she could have done, under the circumstances.

Beverly glared at her.

“Even Galandriels eventually develop a bedside manner, when they go into medicine for Starfleet,” Beverly said, allowing her full annoyance to seep into her tone. “I will assume that, eventually, you will, too.”

She put her hands on Laris’ face. She turned Laris’ head toward her, even though Laris clearly tried to fight her. She was in distress—perhaps so much so that she wasn’t even fully aware of what she was doing or even feeling. She wasn’t producing words—at least not ones that the universal translator could manage. The sounds she was releasing were only sounds of anguish and despair.

“Help her,” Jean-Luc said. His throat was dry. His voice caught in his throat. His words came out quiet, and weak, and full of the fear that he felt and his own pain for Laris’ suffering.

“Laris,” Beverly said, leaning her face close to Laris and softening her voice in a way that seemed a bit counterintuitive, given the volume of Laris’ lament. “I need you to listen to me, OK? I need you to listen and I need you to try to breathe calmly. Your distress is intensifying your distress. You’re harming yourself. Can you try to focus a moment on my face? Focus on my words. Can you do that? Your baby is fine, Laris. Your baby is fine. Please—try to listen to me. Your baby is healthy. Your baby is just fine, but its mother is not. OK? Your baby is fine, but its mother is not.”

Jean-Luc could already see some response. He could hear some response from the machines marking out each detail of Laris’ life at the moment.

She did focus on Beverly. Her eyes danced, visible even from this distance, but she was taking in every bit of Beverly’s face—perhaps looking for even the slightest sign of deception.

Not finding any sign of deception, she was beginning to calm. She was beginning to breathe with more calm and control, even as Beverly continued to ask her to do so.

“That’s good—you’re doing great. Breathe slowly. Let the sedative and the regenerator do what we need them to do. I promise—you’re not going back to sleep right away. We didn’t give you enough for that. It’ll take a little time. It won’t just knock you out entirely. We only want you to relax, OK? Just—relax. Breathe slowly.”

Laris was clearly trying to do what Beverly asked. She was trying to control her breathing and slow it down. She’d stopped screaming. The alarms started to calm, and the scolded nurse had disappeared, replaced by another young nurse that was handling the screeching alarms while Beverly focused on their patient.

“Good,” Beverly said again, still softly and, now with a bit of cheer in her voice. “Keep doing that. You’re doing so well. Breathe slowly—with me, OK? Breathing like this is good for the baby. Keep breathing with me. Your baby is fine. Your baby is healthy. Its mother is going to be fine, too. I’m going to make sure of that. You’re both going to come out of this just fine.”

“My baby isn’t dead?” Laris breathed out. They were the first clear and discernable words that she’d managed—evidence, perhaps, that everything was coming under control.

“Absolutely not,” Beverly said quickly, “I promise you. Mother to mother, I would never lie to you about that. Your baby is fine, Laris. Everything looks good. The heartbeat is strong.”

“Laris…” Jean-Luc said, finally stepping more into her line of sight, after Beverly indicated to him that he could—and should—approach.

She opened her eyes from where she had closed them for a moment—from pain, relief, the sedative, or some mixture of all of it, Jean-Luc couldn’t be absolutely certain. Laris gave him something of a smile, as she realized that he was there. Then, she looked at Beverly.

“Of course,” she breathed out. “Doctor Beverly Crusher.” Her tone and expression gave away nothing more than simple realization.

“You left me everything that I needed to find you,” Beverly said, “even in the chaos. I’m glad you’re with us—in all sense of the words. I’m slipping off your wrist restraints for now.”

“I mostly meant the information for Starfleet—the Federation. They need to shut down the uprising. They have to stop them before they get too strong.”

“Shhh,” Beverly offered, her eyes going to a monitor that was beginning to emit an unpleasant sound. “It’s OK. We passed the information along. They’ve taken over the fight for now. One piece of the rescue was personal, though, so we brought you—and your baby—here.” She smiled at Laris, and she let her expression fan over to Jean-Luc. “I’m sorry. I know you probably thought about telling Jean-Luc some other way. If you would like a little time alone—you’re stable now, as long as you don’t get too worked up. Stay as calm as you can.”

Laris drew in a slow, deep breath. As she let it out, she sank somewhat into the bed. Suddenly, the weight of everything seemed to come down on her shoulders. Jean-Luc could practically see it. Her eyelids—a very dark green, beyond even the slightly green shade to which he’d become accustomed—were visibly heavy. She drew in a breath, again, that was clearly a bit labored.

“The regenerator is working,” Beverly said. “And, believe it or not, your body seems to be responding much better than it was. Soon, breathing won’t be such a chore, and your heart will be stronger.”

“The baby’s OK…” Laris said.

“Perfect,” Beverly said.

“If the Federation doesn’t stop the uprising, they’ll come for me,” Laris said. “They’ll come for all of us—everyone that they see as a traitor. They’ll kill my baby. Trust me. I know what they’re capable of doing. I’ve—seen it before.”

The machines began issuing a warning, and Beverly pushed Jean-Luc toward Laris. He felt nervous—far beyond what he knew was reasonable. He took her hand. She smiled at him. Her eyelids sagged. Her breathing was more ragged, now, like she was using up what strength she’d gathered.

He shushed her and smoothed her hair, damp from perspiration.

“You old fool,” she offered. “You should have known better than to come to a Romulan battle.”

He laughed at her teasing.

“I can’t help it,” he offered. “It seems—I have a soft spot for Romulans.”

“All of them?” Laris asked.

“Perhaps some more than others,” Jean-Luc said, squeezing her hand. “I have it on—on very good authority—that there is one more tiny Romulan to love in this universe.”

She smiled. It was pained. Jean-Luc knew that Beverly was aware of it. Even as she gave them a moment, she was there, studying things and preparing hyposprays.

“Something for the pain,” she said, her voice soft like she intended not to interrupt, as she pressed a hypospray to Laris’ neck.

“The baby…” Laris said, attempting to protest.

“Is fine,” Beverly reassured her. “It won’t be harmed by anything I give you. I promise. I will—I will do everything in my power to be sure that your baby is safe. For now, it really needs its mother to rest.”

“I meant to tell you,” Laris said to Jean-Luc, “as soon as I saw you.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Jean-Luc assured her.

“I’m sorry,” she breathed out.

“Whever for?” Jean-Luc asked.

“I know how you feel about…well…children,” Laris said. “Babies.”

“The funny thing about babies,” Beverly said, as though she were musing on the thought, but very clearly making eye contact with Jean-Luc, “is that there are only a limited number of species in which there are not two parents equally involved in their conception. Romulans and humans alike require two parents to procreate.”

“At any rate,” Jean-Luc said, “I have—had quite the change of heart, it would seem. There’s time to talk about everything. For now—rest, please? Heal.”

He kissed Laris’ fingers as he held her hand, brushing his thumb over the spot where he’d just kissed her. Beverly administered something else to her.

“I need Cufenol,” Laris said. “The baby’s blood composition…”

“Is perfectly within range,” Beverly said. “It’s OK. You can rest. You need to rest. I’m keeping careful track of Cufenol dosages and the baby’s blood levels. I promise you. I’m keeping track of everything.”

“The Federation—the Tal Shiar,” Laris said. It was clear to Jean-Luc that she was quickly wearing herself out.

“They’re taking care of the uprising,” Beverly said. “You are safe. Your baby is safe. You have my word. I know your species is very averse to showing any kind of weakness or vulnerability, so—you might want to take this medication and rest, OK? So—you don’t appear weaker than we know you are.”

Laris quirked an eyebrow.

“I can still…”

“Trust me,” Beverly interrupted with a laugh. “I know you could still…overpower me and cut my throat, even in your current condition, if that’s what you wanted to do.” She winked at her. “I also know that—as Romulans go—you’re a gentle soul, and you don’t want to do that. I am, however, going to restrain your hands again, just in case you have a bad dream and wake up a bit disoriented. Can you rest for me, now?” Laris nodded at her, clearly growing too weak to do much more, and Beverly released the contents of another hypospray into her bloodstream.

Jean-Luc was still holding Laris’ hand, even after having fastened the restraint around her wrist as Beverly had done with her other hand. He felt her hand drop in his as she slipped entirely out of consciousness. The sleep was so sudden and so deep, that he looked to the monitors with a hint of a panic to reassure himself that her vitals still registered there.

“She’ll sleep a while,” Beverly said. “And she’ll keep healing.”

“Is she going to be OK?” Jean-Luc asked.

Beverly caught his arm and led him away from the bed, clearly happy with Laris’ current state. Some distance away; she nodded.

“She’ll be fine. Romulans have remarkable healing abilities, when they are motivated to get better, just like Vulcans.”

“You didn’t tell her about the…” Jean-Luc stopped, when Beverly made an expression. She pulled him even further away, as though Laris might overhear them. When she was confident, he supposed, that she wouldn’t hear them, she stopped. They were outside the sickbay doors at that point, and far beyond even the keen hearing of Romulan ears.

“Healing is, sometimes, as much a mental act as a physical one,” Beverly said. “You saw the differences in her, just from knowing her baby was OK. It’s not hurting her to let her believe that she’s still carrying the baby and healing herself for the good of both of them.”

“And when she finds out the truth?” Jean-Luc asked.

“She’ll be stronger,” Beverly said. “Besides—she’ll be healthy. Hopefully, she’ll only have to know that the baby had a temporary change of address for a short period of time. We’ll transfer the baby back, and this will all be just a moment in the whole process. She won’t have time to really even become distressed.” She winked at Jean-Luc. “And I’ll have kept my promise, because I’m not letting any harm come to this little Romulan. Now—Papa—do you think we could let Doctor M’Pram know that she needs to observe for a while and, maybe we could feed this little Romulan?”

Jean-Luc smiled at her.

“I’m sure there’s a mess hall,” he said. “We’ll get whatever you want.”

Chapter Text

AN: Here’s another piece. I think that some people missed Chapter 5. If that’s the case, please do read it before reading this one!

I hope you enjoy! If you do, please do let me know!

111

When Beverly found the bed empty, except for herself, she sat up. The room was dark, but not entirely dark. The Sinclair was a small ship, but it was nice and everything was absolutely the newest that it could be. Their quarters practically smelled of new materials.

The ship had a twilight setting for lights that was designed not to disturb sleep, but also to provide enough light for moving around without risk. The lighting was enough for Beverly to see that she was alone in the bed and the door to the adjoining bathroom was ajar. Jean-Luc hadn’t simply gone to relieve himself.

Beverly laid back down for a moment. She was tired. Her head ached slightly and, when she sat up, it was a touch dizzy. She ran her hand over her abdomen. She knew what it was that was causing her symptoms. She had read quite a bit of information on gestational transfers before bed, given that they were a strong new interest of hers. Her body had a lot of adjusting to do, and it had to do it quickly. She had to give herself some grace.

Beverly eased to sit on the side of the bed. She waited until her head felt better. She stood, pleased to see that the moment of dizziness had passed. She made her way to the bathroom, relieved herself, washed her hands, and splashed her face with water. She was tired, but she wasn’t terribly sleepy.

She made her way to the replicator in the bedroom and requested a dose of Cufenol. She dosed herself and stood there considering the replicator. She put her hand over her belly, again, affectionately stroking it. There was hardly any sign of the baby, of course, but she felt very aware of the little thing’s presence.

“OK—I understand. You’re hungry. Any special requests? You’re going to have be clearer with your signals. My Romulan is limited to one semester at the Academy, and I’ve forgotten most of that.”

She laughed to herself. She had spoken to both of her boys from the moment she’d known she was carrying them. Doctors had varying opinions on whether or not developing babies could understand their mothers, or even hear them, and even those opinions varied by species. None of it mattered to Beverly. She wasn’t interested in one person’s findings or another. She simply believed that they could, and that was good enough for her. Besides, she couldn’t see where it could possibly cause any harm.

“Do you miss your Mama?” She asked. “You might. What would she eat at this hour? She’s been living with Jean-Luc for twenty years, so…oh…I know what sounds good.”

Beverly put in the request for herbal tea and a particular type of shortbread cookie with a light lemon taste that she enjoyed. She hadn’t had that in years, but she’d been fond of it when she was pregnant with Jack. Now, she wondered if her little ward had requested the snack, and if it might be something that both babies had gotten from their father.

Beverly took her snack and made her way toward the living area of the comfortable quarters.

She found Jean-Luc there, sitting on the couch. On the table in front of him was a bottle, and in his hand was a glass.

“Synthehol or…?”

“The real thing,” Jean-Luc said. “The bar is fully stocked, believe it or not.”

“I’ll believe it,” Beverly said. She didn’t hold back her sigh. “May I?”

“By all means,” Jean-Luc said.

She sat down beside him and rested her own saucer and small plate of cookies on the table.

“What are those?” Jean-Luc asked.

“Mirilian lemon cookies,” Beverly said.

Jean-Luc smiled.

“Laris is exceedingly fond of those,” he said.

“A taste she likely picked up from you,” Beverly said. “You’ve always been fond of them. And, it would seem, so are your children.”

Jean-Luc quirked an eyebrow at her. She laughed at it and chewed through a bite of one of the cookies, finding that she enjoyed it immensely. She couldn’t help but hum out her pleasure. Jean-Luc reached and plucked one from the plate.

“Perhaps I should have foregone the Romulan ale in favor of cookies,” Jean-Luc said.

“Pregnancy enhances flavor,” Beverly said, when he looked a little disappointed with the simple cookie. “At least—for me, and for many mothers it does. I craved these cookies a lot when I was carrying Jack. And, just now, I was trying to think—what might Laris have as a snack? It’s an entirely silly thought, and I don’t mean it with any seriousness, but I thought—what if it would comfort the baby to have something that she might have? I had a sudden craving for these.”

“Laris enjoys them immensely,” Jean-Luc said. “She also likes the ones that have lavender in them, though I think they’re a bit too floral.”

Beverly laughed and finished her cookie before picking up another.

“Do you want to tell me while you’re out here drinking Romulan ale, alone, in the dark?”

“The twilight setting allows us to avoid harmful stereotypes of drinking alone in the dark,” Jean-Luc said. There was some teasing there, but Beverly knew him well enough to know that he was deflecting. She didn’t say anything. She waited him out and, after a moment, he continued. “Romulan ale is no longer illegal, you know. It’s imported from nearly every Romulan colony now. Each has their own variety and what have you. It’s one of the few things that they are able to export for money. Have you been to any of the Romulan colonies since the supernova?”

“No,” Beverly said sincerely. “At least—not to stay for any length of time.”

“Most are still little better than slums,” Jean-Luc said. “The Federation says they help them, but…well…you know how it is. They continue to try to improve, but it’s a very, very slow process. They’re second-class citizens everywhere, really. And, yet, here I sit…in the dark, as you say…and I drink Romulan ale and feel sorry for myself while Laris is fighting for her life in the sickbay of a vessel where it’s very likely that many of the members of her medical team see her as nothing more than…a Romulan. Complete with every harmful stereotype we’ve all known for ages.”

“Most of the medical team seems open-minded,” Beverly said. “And Doctor M’Pram seems comfortable treating Laris, even if she is a Romulan.”

Jean-Luc, having drained his glass of Romulan ale, poured another. Beverly could tell that the liquid was going to his brain, but she would allow him the indulgence.

“Northern Romulans—well, they can hardly hide their ridges,” Jean-Luc mused. “But Laris…in situations where she feels it prudent, she’ll simply pretend to be a Vulcan. The reaction from people is remarkably different, depending on that introduction. It’s tragic, considering we like to think of ourselves as so far beyond that sort of bigotry.”

“Sadly enough, I don’t know that we’ll ever live in a world without bigotry,” Beverly offered.

Jean-Luc hummed and took a long drink from his glass.

“She is really a gentle soul,” he said. “I know—she’s a former Tal Shiar agent, and she’s done her share of terrible things. She won’t deny that for a moment. But—I can’t quite explain it…”

“We can’t help the lives we’re born into,” Beverly offered.

“She defected because she refused to act against innocents,” Jean-Luc said. “And, for that, she will spend the rest of her life looking over her shoulder, lest the Tal Shiar rise once more and find her again.”

“Again?”

“She acted against them more than once, while she was an agent,” Jean-Luc said. “I don’t know the details. She can be…secretive.”

“A true Romulan,” Beverly said with a laugh. Jean-Luc laughed, too.

“I suppose there’s an element of truth in all stereotypes,” he said. “I know that she—paid for it, more than once. A sort of—warning. The final time, she fled for her life with Zhaban—her husband. They were the last of their bond. That’s when they came to live with me and work for me.”

“You love her,” Beverly said. “It’s palpable, Jean-Luc.”

He frowned at his drink before draining another glass. He refilled it, and Beverly mentally decided that she would cut him off after this, one way or another.

“I loved Laris as a friend, first,” Jean-Luc said. “Family. Then, there came a moment when…I wanted to love. I wanted to love her. And she was there. She was willing. And she had so much love to give, Beverly.”

“Romulans are a very passionate species,” Beverly said. “We focus on the negative connotations to that, but we forget that—there are so many beautiful sides of passionate souls.”

“When a Romulan loses someone they love,” Jean-Luc said, “they honor that love by…loving again. They dedicate themselves to loving more completely…more deeply…than they loved before.” He took a drink from the glass, and then contemplated the blue liquid. “I have loved you for as long as I’ve known you, and that’s no exaggeration. From the moment I laid eyes on you, Beverly, I loved you.”

“That’s called lust, Jean-Luc,” Beverly said, only half-teasing.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “No. But you were off-limits. And then…Jack died and, well, I couldn’t help but feel responsible.”

“Let’s not forget that you’ve created many of your own obstacles,” Beverly said, drinking her tea before it cooled entirely.

“I won’t deny that,” Jean-Luc said. “Not anymore.”

“You couldn’t love me because of your guilt,” Beverly said. “And, then, you couldn’t love me because you had to love your ship more.”

“Is that really what you think of me?” He asked.

“Maybe not exactly, but…”

“I deserve that,” he said. “I do. And a great deal more. I was a coward. Laris would agree with that. She’s told me as much, herself, a dozen times. It was never that I couldn’t love you, Beverly. I loved you always. It was only—that I couldn’t allow myself to love you openly.”

“Do you allow yourself to love Laris openly?” Beverly asked.

“I had begun to do so,” Jean-Luc said. “I had mourned you for twenty years—and that wasn’t counting the daily grief I felt over the fact that I couldn’t have you when you were there, in front of me…”

“Grief over your self-imposed limitations,” Beverly said.

He frowned at her.

“I deny nothing,” he said. “But—if I could beg that you be just a little gentle with me…whether it’s the ale or the…circumstances…I’m feeling a bit…”

“Fragile,” Beverly finished, when it was clear that he might not. “I’m sorry. Go on.”

“I grieved you for twenty years,” Jean-Luc said.

“And, then, you loved Laris,” Beverly said. “I’m not angry, Jean-Luc, and it doesn’t make you a horrible person to love her.”

“Perhaps not,” he said. “But—I can’t help how I feel. And, now? I love you, Beverly. I always have. There has hardly ever been a moment in my life when I can recall not loving you. Even when I opened myself up to loving her, it was as…well…practically as a widower. I never stopped loving you. I simply accepted that you would never be mine to love.”

“Jean-Luc…what would Laris say, if she came into the room in the early morning hours and found you half a bottle deep in Romulan ale, lamenting your woes?”

He laughed, and Beverly saw his cheeks color a bit more than the slight coloring that came from having drank so much of the strong drink.

“She would tell me—that I was an old fool, deep in my cups,” he said. “She would say…get up, old man. Stop your grieving and go to bed.”

Beverly laughed.

“I like her even more than I did before,” Beverly said. “And she’s right. Jean-Luc…there’s nothing that you can solve here, like this, that you can’t do a better job of solving once you’re sober and a bit more rested.”

“I can’t bear to be cruel to her,” Jean-Luc said. “And, yet…”

“Come on, old man,” Beverly teased. “Let’s go to bed. Stop talking, before you say something you’ll regret. We’ll figure all this out tomorrow.”

“We’ll figure it out,” he mused.

“We will,” Beverly said, taking the glass from his hand and putting it on the table. She could clean everything up once she was sure that he was asleep.

“None of this should have fallen on you,” Jean-Luc said. “None of it was yours to carry and, yet, now you are quite literally carrying this burden.”

“Careful, Jean-Luc,” Beverly said, tugging his hand to pull him to his feet. “I’ll forgive you one slip, but I never want to hear the word ‘burden’ again. I’ve already grown rather attached to my little Romulan ward, literally and figuratively, and I won’t stand idly by and let its father insult it.”

“I didn’t mean it that way,” Jean-Luc said.

“I know you didn’t,” Beverly said. “And that’s why I’m stopping you. You don’t need to keep talking, Jean-Luc, when you’re at risk of saying things that you don’t really mean.”

He stood to face her. He was tired—he was so tired. She was tired, too. There was so much that they’d tried to handle, together, in such a rushed amount of time. They needed quiet. They needed stillness. They needed time to process things and to handle them.

Life had never been really good at giving them those things.

Beverly smoothed her fingertips over his face. She felt his fingers digging into her hips as he held her, a bit too roughly, but she knew he didn’t mean it. She smiled at him.

“You need to sleep,” she said. “And so do I.”

“I love you, Beverly. That’s never changed.”

She smiled at him. She leaned and pressed her lips to his. She shared the sweet kiss with him, breaking it before he could let it get too deep. There was time for that, but this wasn’t the time.

“I love you, too, Jean-Luc,” Beverly assured him. “That will never change.” She drew in a breath and let it out slowly. She renewed her smile. “And Laris is going to pull through this. I’m going to sickbay first thing in the morning to check on things, but…I feel confident. She is going to live. She is strong, Jean-Luc, and she is a fighter.”

He smiled and nodded.

“She is a fighter,” he said. “But…”

“Shhh,” Beverly said. “No more. Please. I love you. And you love me. After everything? That’s enough, Jean-Luc. It has to be. We’ll figure the rest out.”

“How?” He asked.

“Are you questioning my problem-solving skills?” Beverly asked, smiling at him.

“Never, but…”

“Then, leave it at that,” Beverly said. “Let’s go to sleep, Jean-Luc. Hold me?”

“It would be my pleasure,” he offered simply.

Chapter Text

AN: Here we are, another piece to this one. I don’t know how many people may be reading, or if you’ve read all the previous chapters. Please be careful to catch up in order! As always, suspension of disbelief is appreciated.

If you read, I hope you enjoy. If you enjoy, please do let me know.

111

“Tell me how the night went,” Beverly said. “I’m assuming well, since I wasn’t notified of anything.”

“You are also my patient,” Doctor M’Pram stated.

Beverly offered her a smile.

“I’ve been discharged,” she offered. “Released. I am a consulting physician on Laris’ case. I am not a patient to be kept in the dark.”

“There is the situation with the gestational transfer to consider,” Doctor M’Pram said.

“I’m pregnant,” Beverly said. “Not a patient. How did the night go?”

She was already in possession of the PADD that would give her a quick report of everything. She quickly scanned through readings, images, and numbers.

“She is healing, and her numbers would be perfect, except…”

Doctor M’Pram purred out the words in the sometimes sing-songy tone that was simply a mark of her species.

“Except?” Beverly asked.

“If it were only for the damage done to her lungs or the damage done to her heart, alone, she would remain stable. I have no doubt of that. However, with both at the same time, she is frequently crashing or coming close to it. Heightened emotions are creating elevated reactions, and she is…not always handling them well.”

“My question, then, is what is happening that she’s having to deal with these—heightened emotions—so frequently?” Beverly asked. “What’s being done to her? What’s being said to her?”

Doctor M’Pram made a face. Beverly didn’t like it, instinctively.

“She is…Romulan,” the doctor offered.

Beverly drew in a breath and held it for a fraction of a second. She let it out slowly, with purpose, lest she be accused of heightened emotions and reactions, herself.

“Just because she is Romulan,” Beverly said, “that does not tell me what is happening to her to…lead to these reactions. It says right here that she was sedated three times last night. Three! Why?”

“She cannot be controlled otherwise,” Doctor M’Pram offered. “My staff is reporting that—there is no other way to handle her.”

“And you? Can’t you handle her?”

“I was not on call last night,” Doctor M’Pram said. “It was my shift to rest. I spent most of it reading about gestational transfers.”

“And your staff is green,” Beverly said. She stopped. She reminded herself that this wasn’t her sickbay. She outranked the doctor in front of her, and she knew that one call to Starfleet would change the dynamics of everything dramatically, but she didn’t want to do that. She didn’t want to get a reputation or, perhaps, to bring one back from the proverbial dead.

But she also didn’t want to let things go on being done in a manner that was less than acceptable, in her opinion.

“Your staff is green,” Beverly repeated, holding back her irritation a little. “I’m not accusing anyone of improper behavior, but it’s prudent to keep in mind that…reactions to Romulans may be colored by experiences and beliefs. Doctor—she is injured. She is in pain, given that I’m seeing a shockingly limited amount of analgesics administered to her in the past twenty-four hours. She is no doubt frightened. I agreed to her being restrained, for the safety of everyone, but we need to remember that—she is restrained. That, in itself, is at least a little distressing. She is being sedated frequently, which can be very disorienting. She is not human, but she does have feelings.”

Doctor M’Pram’s expression softened.

“I was not here to supervise,” she said. “It wasn’t my shift. I trust those working under me, but…several are new to my staff.”

“Understood,” Beverly said. “I would like to have her care transferred to me. I would also like to use your office, if you don’t object. I’m going to contact Starfleet. I promise to speak of nothing here that may be—questionable. I only want to request a medical transport to a private location.”

“That is inadvisable. She still needs round-the-clock care,” the doctor said. “She has a lot of healing to do. You and I both know that, even once that damaged is visually healed, it’s going to take her time to fully recover.”

“And she will have both time and care,” Beverly said, sincerely. “She’ll have everything she needs. I’ll provide it myself.”

“And when she crashes?” Doctor M’Pram asked. There was some amusement there. Beverly accepted it. “You need more hands.”

“It’s honestly my feeling that she will stop crashing when I can get her to a more relaxed environment,” Beverly said. “I think she’ll heal better when she can relax. I think that—the crashing will stop when I can control what’s being said and done to her.”

“She doesn’t know everything,” Doctor M’Pram said. “And when you tell her everything…”

She stopped and simply gave Beverly a look that communicated everything she wanted to say. Beverly’s stomach churned, and she swallowed back against the desire to part company with the breakfast she’d struggled to keep even this long. She felt suddenly quite warm and unwell. She focused on her breathing, and she hoped that the Caitian couldn’t detect the change in her—though she knew that she could. Caitians were very good at simply detecting changes in those around them on an instinctual level. It was one thing that made them very good doctors.

“It’s time to talk to her about it,” Beverly said.

“She is awake,” Doctor M’Pram said. “However, she is…already in an elevated state, so to speak.”

“What happened?” Beverly asked.

“She practically wakes that way from the sedation. She is always in something of an elevated state. I will come with you, just in case you need help stabilizing her.”

“Jean-Luc should probably be present, but…he’s with the captain,” Beverly said.

“With all due respect, and with as much delicacy as is preferred,” Doctor M’Pram said, purring out the final word, “I don’t think that his presence will make a difference.”

Beverly nodded her agreement. She brought the PADD with her, but she put it down on a table before approaching Laris’ bed. The machines indicated what she’d been told already. Everything was already elevated. Laris yanked at her restraints when she saw Beverly. Beverly’s heart ached just to see the fear and the pain in the woman’s eyes.

“Beverly—Crusher—Doctor Beverly Crusher,” Laris said.

“Shhh,” Beverly soothed, approaching her. “Beverly is fine. Any of it is fine. Let me look at your eyes a moment. Please? It’s OK…just…let me check a few things.”

“Why?” Laris asked. Still, she allowed Beverly to shine the light into her eyes. Beverly flashed the light a couple of times, holding Laris’ face so that she couldn’t look away from the bright bursts of light.

“Well?” Doctor M’Pram asked.

“The nictitating membrane is not responding normally,” Beverly said.

“There are some slight signs of concussion, but no signs of damage to the membrane,” Doctor M’Pram said.

“The concussion is possibly adding to it,” Beverly said. “But—this type of behavior with the membrane can also indicate severe trauma in the body, infection…”

“We’ll begin antibiotics,” Doctor M’Pram said, nodding. She gave Beverly something of a smile. “And a course of analgesics suited to the level of tissue damage still present.”

“Please—just talk to me,” Laris said. “Directly. Like I’m here. I believe my ears are still attached and functioning, though I haven’t been allowed to touch them to even be sure.”

“Lie back?” Beverly asked her. “Relax your body? You’re about to feel a lot better. I promise.”

“I don’t care how I feel,” Laris said. “I just want you to talk to me like I’m…like I’m capable of understanding. The universal translators are working, as far as I can tell, and I’m conversational in a dozen languages.”

Beverly took the first of the hyposprays handed to her. She pressed it to Laris’ neck and the woman jumped—surprised, Beverly knew, and not hurt. She was on edge. The sounding of one of the machines let that be known. Beverly made the most soothing noise that she could—the same she might with one of her boys, if they were sick, or hurt, or both. She released the contents of the other hypospray into Laris’ bloodstream.

The transparent nictitating membrane slid into place to cover Laris’ eye entirely. Fully in place, it was barely visible and likely would have been invisible to anyone who wasn’t expecting to see it. The light wasn’t bright enough to warrant its current behavior. She was unwell and her body was attempting to cover and protect her in any way possible.

“Are you with me?” Beverly asked.

Laris’ eyes didn’t leave hers.

“Entirely,” Laris said.

“Tell me what you need,” Beverly said. “I’m listening. I want to know. I want to help you. Tell me what you need.”

“My mouth is dry,” Laris said. “I would appreciate some water. If I’m allowed it.”

Beverly smiled and nodded. She only needed to glance at the other doctor, and she stepped away to get some. She returned almost immediately and, using the straw, Beverly helped Laris to drink. She drank like someone who had been lost in the dessert, and Beverly doubted that anyone had offered her a chance to dampen her mouth, assuming the intravenous fluids would be enough—especially for a Romulan who might bite them.

“What else do you need? We’ll get you more water, but…let’s take it slow. You had a significant perforation in your stomach, and we don’t want to push things too fast. It’s healed, but…we’ll still wait a bit. You have a hole in your lung that is not healed yet, and some damage to your heart that is causing trouble. Together, they are prolonging the whole healing process. We will get you healed, but you’ll help us by remaining as calm as possible. Do you understand?”

Laris nodded. She closed her outer eyelids a moment. When she opened them, Beverly saw the membrane flick to the side, and back across her eye. It repeated the action multiple times. Beverly tensed slightly, to see it. It was involuntary. Laris had no control over it. The membrane was “shuttering,” which was a clear indication that the woman was not well.

She was fighting, though, and she would get better.

“I need Cufenol,” Laris said. “My baby is a hybrid. I started the Cufenol the moment that our household tricorder was able to detect a pregnancy, and I realized that I wasn’t just…unwell.”

“You did exactly what you needed to do,” Beverly said.

“The baby’s blood composition has been stable,” Laris said. “Copper—just like it should be. Each time they woke me for—vitals and everything else, I asked for Cufenol. They keep denying me. Without it, my baby is going to die, and the only merciful thing is that…it’ll take me with it.”

Beverly’s stomach twisted and lurched. As a mother, she understood the feeling behind Laris’ words, even if she had many times had to try to talk mothers out of that sentiment—better to die with my child than be left here without them.

“I need you to listen to me,” Beverly said, focusing on keeping her expression and her tone as soft and positive as she could. Laris focused her eyes on Beverly. “Your baby is healthy. It is safe and comfortable. The amniotic fluid looks just like it should. The baby’s numbers look good, and its blood levels are perfect. I tested them myself not half an hour ago. Cufenol is being regularly administered. The baby is perfect.”

Beverly saw Laris visibly relax. The membrane stopped shuttering and settled, still covering the entirety of Laris’ eye.

“They’re giving me the Cufenol?” Laris asked.

Beverly drew in a breath. She hated everything that she was just about to have to say. She put on the best expression that she could muster, hoping to make things easier to digest.

“Laris—in the…accident…you were very badly injured,” Beverly said. “Your internal injuries were…shocking. I didn’t tell Jean-Luc, but the very fact that you lived was surprising. It’s a testament to how strong you are, really. How much you want to keep fighting.”

“My baby…” Laris said, tensing. She clearly didn’t like Beverly’s tone.

“Is safe,” Beverly repeated. “Healthy, and safe, and strong. You kept it safe, even through all that. However, when we beamed you aboard the shuttle, your body was struggling to keep both of you alive. I knew that the baby would not survive on its own, and I knew that you would not survive, if you were trying to handle your own injuries and trying to keep giving it everything that it needed.”

“No,” Laris said, simply, shaking her head.

The monitor screamed out the rest of what she was hiding. Romulans were remarkably good at hiding things, when they wanted to do so.

“The baby is fine,” Beverly repeated. “I promise you. Your baby is fine. I did what I had to do to save it—to save both of you.”

“What happened?” Laris breathed out.

“I performed a fetal transfer,” Beverly said.

“What?” Laris asked.

“A fetal transfer,” Beverly said. “It’s only used in emergency situations.”

“It’s only used when death is the only other probable outcome,” Dr. M’Pram offered.

“I separated you so that you would both live,” Beverly said.

“Separated…” Laris said. Beverly nodded. “Where is my baby?”

Beverly reached and unfastened one of the restraints. She freed Laris’ hand and held it in her own. Laris didn’t fight her in the way that everyone predicted she would, if she were given the chance to move her limbs. She furrowed her brow at Beverly. Beverly brought her hand down, and moved her body enough to allow Laris’ fingertips to touch her abdomen, without requiring the woman to move too much.

“No…” Laris said.

“It was the only choice I had to save both of you,” Beverly said. “I knew that you would want me to save both of you.”

“But—my baby…” Laris said.

“It’s a lot to take in, I know. I’m sorry. I am—so sorry. I know it’s a lot to process,” Beverly said. “I promise you. Your baby is healthy.” She moved Laris’ hand back to the bed. She didn’t fasten the restraint, though. Laris moved her own hand to touch her own abdomen, just below where the regeneration unit ended.

She was holding everything back, trying to appear calm and strong, but the monitors told a different story. Still, she wasn’t crashing, so Beverly simply communicated to the other doctor, with an expression, that she lower the volume on the warning alarms. Beverly reached and, without really moving Laris’ hand, she took it in her own. She rubbed her fingers over Laris’ fingers to try to offer what comfort she could.

“I won’t pretend to know anything—anything at all—about how you’re feeling,” Beverly offered. “I am willing to—to talk to you about anything. I’m willing to help you as much as I can. For now, please—please—know that I will take care of this baby as if it were my own.”

“It isn’t yours,” Laris said.

“I understand that,” Beverly said. “Just the same, I will protect it and care for it as if it were, until I can return it safely to its mother.”

Laris looked at her with a furrowed brow.

“I can have my baby back?” She said, her words barely more than a whisper.

“When you’re strong enough,” Beverly said, “we’ll transfer the baby back to you.”

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Doctor M’Pram said, “and—perhaps to be the bearer of bad news.”

Beverly and Laris both looked at her.

“Gestational transfers are only used in absolute emergencies,” she said. “While it is possible to return some fetuses after transfer, it’s less effective the longer that you wait, because the fetus becomes so completely integrated with the circulatory systems of the carrier. The transfer becomes very risky after some time. Laris’ body cannot yet sustain the fetus, and it has already had a great deal of time to become integrated…”

“I’ll accept the risk to myself,” Beverly said, “if that’s the concern.”

“Re-transfers can be dangerous to the fetus, the carrier, and the mother,” Doctor M’Pram said. “It’s not recommendable, especially after this much time has passed. In addition—that’s only for fetuses that share the same blood type as their mother and their carrier. In the case of this fetus, the blood type has been adjusted, now, twice. To attempt to do so, again, would put a great deal of strain on the circulatory system and could very likely cause damage to the fetus—including…death.”

Beverly felt herself go slightly numb in response. It was a shock—in more ways than one. She realized that she had never let go of Laris’ hand when she felt the woman squeezing her fingers. She looked at Laris. Laris looked back at her.

“There is only one choice,” Laris said. “If my baby can live, I want it to live—even without me.”

Beverly felt her own chest and throat tighten. She heard the alarms, their volume low, but was at least glad to see that, though they indicated distress, they didn’t indicate the kind of distress that would cause the woman to crash.

Beverly squeezed Laris’ hand. She needed a moment, herself, before she could say or do more. Laris seemed to quietly understand, because she simply squeezed Beverly’s hand back in response.

Chapter Text

AN: Here we are, another piece here. As always, suspension of disbelief is always appreciated.

If you read, I hope that you enjoy! If you enjoy, please do let me know. I appreciate it greatly!

111

“Beverly—I don’t understand,” Jean-Luc said. “Are you…alright?”

“No,” Beverly said. “No—I’m not alright, Jean-Luc. I am healthy, if that’s what you’re asking, except for the fact that…that I have been sick about half a dozen times in the past hour and a half. In fact, at this point, I think it’s safe to say that I’m just going to feel permanently sick.”

“Sick as in…?”

“Vomiting, Jean-Luc!” Beverly barked. “Not even vomiting anymore. There’s nothing left to vomit!”

He looked shocked. He might have even backed up a step.

Beverly consciously drew in a breath, held it, and let it out. It helped her to relax a little, so she repeated it. She pressed her hand to her stomach.

“I think—that the baby is becoming…integrated, as Doctor M’Pram phrases it,” Beverly said.

“Which means?” Jean-Luc asked. He held a hand up. “I’m sorry. Sincerely. I don’t mean to be obtuse. It’s only—I was with the captain, and I received a call to come to sickbay without delay. As you can imagine, I was terrified of what I would find, only to get there and have Doctor M’Pram meet me at the sickbay doors and tell me that it’s best that I speak to you, first. I come here and…Beverly…I have no idea what’s going on. I stepped away for what felt like a half an hour, and now I feel as if I’ve missed some very vital information.”

“I’m sorry,” Beverly breathed out. “I’m sorry. I think—I’m just—overwhelmed.”

Jean-Luc reached her, then. He’d been keeping his distance and, really, could she blame him? She felt as if she’d descended into a certain sort of madness for a moment. Maybe she and Laris both had.

Laris had fought to keep the calm that she’d promised Beverly she would, for her own good. The monitors sang a different song, but the woman’s outward appearance had remained calm. She controlled her body’s reactions to the shock and, likely, a whole host of other emotions, at least enough that she remained in minor medical distress, but avoided slipping over to a point where she might crash and need to be revived. Doctor M’Pram administered a sedative to Laris without even saying a word to Beverly and, this time, Beverly thought it was the most merciful thing to do.

Let her sleep for a while, and let her body heal as much as it could.

Beverly needed time, herself, to come to terms with everything, before she was ready to offer the amount of support that she was sure that Laris was going to need to accept everything.

Beverly was coming out of it now—out of shock or some sort of short-term dissociation.

She’d come straight to the quarters that she’d been assigned with Jean-Luc. The nausea she’d been fighting all morning had finally won, and she’d emptied the contents of her stomach before finding that she felt like it would never end. She continued to gag, but nothing came up after a while. All she was successfully doing was making her ribs hurt.

Jean-Luc had arrived when she’d finally dragged herself up, self-prescribed a medication that she knew worked well for morning sickness, and had administered it along with another dose of Cufenol.

It wasn’t Jean-Luc’s fault that he wasn’t a mind-reader.

“Here—sit. Can I—get you something from the replicator?”

He had guided her to the couch. She sat, suddenly feeling a little better. If nothing else, she felt a rush of affection for Jean-Luc.

“Lemon water,” she said. “Please. Very…very cold—ice cold, Jean-Luc. Please.”

“Don’t move,” Jean-Luc said, rushing to the replicator to come back with a frosty glass of water. Beverly thanked him and tipped it back. She meant only to sip it, but it suddenly tasted like some kind of nectar of the gods, and she’d drank half the glass before she even realized that’s what she was doing.

Jean-Luc sat beside her with one hand on her shoulder and one on her knee, waiting until she was ready to give him more and, hopefully, to help alleviate some of his confusion.

“Better?” Jean-Luc asked, when she looked at him. She laughed quietly and nodded.

“As much as it feels like things can improve right now,” she said. “I’m sorry. I really am. I just—I got very, very overwhelmed.”

“I would like to help you, if you’ll only let me know…how,” Jean-Luc said. “I would be happy to slay a dragon for you, Beverly, but you’ll have to point me in the right direction.”

She laughed, then, appreciating his teasing. He smiled at her and she felt herself relaxing slightly. Doctor M’Pram had been wrong, perhaps. His presence might have made a difference for all of them. After all, Beverly loved him, dearly, and she believed that Laris must, as well.

Beverly drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. She caught his hand and held it.

“You’ve missed a great deal,” she said.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

She shook her head.

“You didn’t mean to, and none of us had any way of knowing that you were leaving for such an important moment in time. I have a lot to tell you, Jean-Luc, and I’m going to say that I absolutely haven’t processed it all, myself.”

“Do your best to tell me what you can, and I will do my best to meet you halfway,” Jean-Luc offered.

She smiled at him.

“Oh—I love you,” she said.

He touched her face affectionately. He smoothed her hair back. She’d sweated, and she’d splashed her face with water and brushed her teeth. She had no doubt that her hair had stuck to her skin in multiple locations.

“I love you—immensely and endlessly,” he offered.

Beverly smiled at his words and nodded. She drank a bit more of the water.

“I thought the gestational transfer was…I thought I would transfer the baby back to Laris,” Beverly said. “I was—just keeping it safe. Taking care of it. Until Laris was ready. Until her body could handle it, but…”

“Go on,” Jean-Luc said.

“I feel like I can hardly get it out,” Beverly said, shaking her head. “There’s so much going on in my mind right now. Laris’ body isn’t ready for the baby, and even if it were, the transfer can’t be undone. The strain that readjusting the blood type would put on the baby would likely kill it.”

“What does this mean?” Jean-Luc asked.

Beverly laughed, though she really wasn’t feeling any humor.

“It means that—I’m pregnant,” she said. “It means that I’m not just keeping this baby safe, Jean-Luc, until Laris can finish out this pregnancy. I’m finishing out this pregnancy.”

“You mean—the entire pregnancy?” Jean-Luc asked.

“Every wonderful—terrible, terrifying—minute of it,” Beverly said. “And I’m overwhelmed. I mean—I can do it. I will do it—for Laris and the baby…for you. But—at my age? I hadn’t planned to be pregnant again, Jean-Luc. I hadn’t planned to go through all that. And the baby is half-Romulan! I don’t even know what that means, right now, but it’s surely going to mean some adjustments.”

“There’s nothing we can do?” Jean-Luc asked.

“Not without putting the baby at risk,” Beverly said. “And—I won’t do that. I’m already too attached.” She laughed. “Figuratively and literally. That’s one of the reasons that…we can’t transfer the baby back to Laris.”

“If you’re at risk, could it be transferred to…to someone else?” Jean-Luc asked. “Maybe without having to change the bloody type…”

“No. It’s too dangerous. It’s fine,” Beverly said. “I’m fine. I’m strong and healthy. I’ll—take better care of myself. I’ll…it’ll be fine.”

“I’ll take care of you,” Jean-Luc said quickly. “Laris…we’ll take care of you.”

“I’m afraid Laris is going to need some care, herself,” Beverly said. She sighed and shook her head. “I want to put in for a medical transport for her. I need to move her immediately. She doesn’t need to be here, Jean-Luc.”

“She’s recovered?”

“No, but she’ll recover faster if she can rest—truly rest. She’s got a lot of healing to do, but I can’t help but feel that she’s responding negatively to her environment. Doctor M’Pram doesn’t think she’s ready to move. She says that—Laris is being difficult, and she’s not responding well to treatment because of that.”

Jean-Luc laughed.

“Laris can surely be difficult,” Jean-Luc said, “if she puts her mind to it.”

“I am sure she can be,” Beverly agreed. “We all can be, Jean-Luc. You and I certainly can be difficult. I’m not with her constantly. Doctor M’Pram can’t be there all the time. I’m not saying that anyone is mistreating her, exactly, but…I just don’t think this is the best environment for her.”

“You want her transferred to Starfleet Medical?”

“No,” Beverly said. “I don’t think she’ll do well there, either. Romulans are, by nature, very secretive. They don’t like to show weakness or vulnerability, except to those that they truly trust and, you know as well as I do, they are very distrustful. I think that Laris needs to go home, Jean-Luc. I think she needs to have her privacy to lick her wounds and heal.”

“The Château?”

“That is her home,” Beverly said.

“Well—yes,” Jean-Luc said. “But…if she hasn’t yet healed…”

“Romulans have remarkable healing abilities, just like Vulcans,” Beverly said. “Without the repeated—whatever is happening to her, I think she’ll heal quickly. Until then, I will monitor her and take care of her. Starfleet will gladly provide transport and whatever portable units I need—especially if I agree to provide some research on this gestational transfer.”

“But—Beverly—that’s a great deal of pressure on you. It’s a great deal of strain. You want to care for Laris, alone? I mean I will help, but…I’m not a doctor.”

“I don’t just want to, Jean-Luc, I have to,” Beverly said. “I need to. Listen to me…some of her numbers are getting better, but…I can’t explain this beyond instinct. She’s getting worse in other ways. Emotionally, she’s not doing well, and things are only getting worse. Jean-Luc, no matter what the body wants, if someone’s heart and mind aren’t in the healing process…” Beverly broke off. She shook her head. “She’s just taken an immense emotional blow, Jean-Luc. Do you know what a nictitating membrane is?”

“A third eyelid,” Jean-Luc said.

Beverly nodded.

“It’s functional in Vulcanoid species,” Beverly said. “It’s a protective part of their bodies, but it can indicate a lot about their internal health—things they can hide from the naked eye. It can indicate concussion, internal trauma, infection…and it can indicate that things are simply starting to shut down, Jean-Luc. Laris’ nictitating membrane was showing me a great deal about her health today. Doctor M’Pram thinks its owing to everything we already know about.”

“Isn’t it?” Jean-Luc asked.

“It wasn’t behaving this way yesterday,” Beverly said. “It was…half-covering her eye, which I expected. Today it’s doing what we call shuttering. That’s bad, Jean-Luc. I don’t like it.”

Jean-Luc looked slightly distressed, but Beverly understood that. She felt distressed, and she was certain that Laris did, too. It was only fair, she supposed, that he join them.

“Right—well—of course, we’ll do whatever you think is best,” Jean-Luc said. “What do you want me to do? What do you need from me?”

“Your blessing, I suppose?” Beverly asked. “I want to take Laris home.”

He laughed nervously. Beverly heard it stick in his throat.

“Of course,” he said. “You have my blessing. You always have that, but…what can I do?”

“Pack our things,” Beverly said. “I’m going to put in a call to Starfleet Medical. As soon as they can get a medical transport here, I think it’s best if we take Laris back to the Château—back home.”

Jean-Luc nodded his head.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll pack. But—Beverly—what will we do once we have her there?”

“We’ll figure it out,” Beverly said. “For now, I need to go and tell Starfleet Medical what I need. I need to tell them about—my new research. I’ll need to let Doctor M’Pram know that I’m transferring Laris’ care entirely to myself, and I’ll need to get her stabilized and prepared for transport. You need to pack our things and thank the captain for his hospitality. Once they arrive, there won’t be time to waste with diplomacy, so take care of that ahead of time.”

Jean-Luc smiled at her and nodded.

“Aye, Captain,” he teased.

Beverly caught is face in her hands and kissed him. He returned the kiss without hesitation.

“I can do this,” Beverly said. “All of it.”

“I don’t doubt that at all,” he said, sincerely.

Chapter Text

AN: Here we are, another piece here and a bit of the transition into what we might consider “the next part” of their adventure together. There’s still a great deal for them to deal with and overcome, but we’re headed to France!

I hope you enjoy! If you do, please do let me know!

111

Beverly had been to the Château once for a shore leave with Jean-Luc. He’d only just decided to truly take ownership of it, again, after the passing of his brother. It had been rebuilt and then closed up like a tomb. Jean-Luc had hired someone to clean it and air it out—to prepare it for their visit—but it hadn’t yet become a “home” after some time of being closed up.

Beverly remembered the emotional struggle that Jean-Luc had been dealing with then. She, too, had been dealing with her own struggle. It had been one of the times when they were “on again,” and keeping their relationship as secret as possible, because Jean-Luc wasn’t ready to face everything that such a relationship might mean.

A lot of Beverly’s life had been dictated by the fact that Jean-Luc hadn’t been ready to face things—too much. She was too old and too tired for that, now. Now, he had to face things, and she was ready to tell him that, even if she knew to do things as delicately as possible and all in their right time.

When she’d been there before, the Château had felt practically haunted. It had felt so void of life. It was cold beyond even what fires in the many fireplaces could touch.

They had made love in what felt like every room, trying to warm it, but Beverly had wondered if it could ever truly feel like a home. They’d barely made it back to the Enterprise, following that shore leave, before they’d ended things—again.

The first thing that Beverly noticed about the Château, upon their arrival this time, was that it immediately felt like a home. Even though it had clearly been somewhat closed up for Laris’ job on Chaltok IV and Jean-Luc’s answering of Beverly’s call, it was a home. Beverly could feel the love and the life practically seeping from the walls. It warmed her, walking through the front door, in the way that no fire ever could.

Jean-Luc had contacted someone to bring Number One from Laris’ temporary residence on Chaltok IV. He’d also requested that someone open the house and air it out for them—not that it had been too long shut up. The temporary caretaker had prepared the house quite well for their arrival.

The Château felt like a home, and Beverly had no doubt of who had been responsible for the transition from cold residence to warm home.

Her patient had lost consciousness once on the transport. Beverly had been concerned, but not too concerned. It was a great deal of strain on a body that still needed healing to be moved a long distance like that. Laris had been stable, otherwise. Upon arriving at the Château, Beverly had moved to set her up in the master bedroom, and she’d requested what had been her own room. Beverly had accepted it as her need to have some privacy, and she’d let the medical assistants help her set up all the equipment that she’d requested.

Finally, they’d been left alone, and Beverly had worked to get Laris as comfortable and stable as she could.

“Now—isn’t this better than a sickbay?” Beverly asked, tucking Laris in as she might a child. She started scanning through the reports generated by the machines. “Your color is so much better already.”

“When can I take this off?” Laris asked, catching her fingers under the edge of the portable regenerator that she wore like something of a clam shell.

“Your numbers are already improving,” Beverly said. “Just leaving that sickbay—it seems to have done wonders. Your respiration is the best that it’s been.”

“When?” Laris asked.

Beverly smiled at her.

“As early as tomorrow,” Beverly said. “But likely the day after. As soon as that hole in your lung reduces in size. The good news is that—you see how you’re hot and sweating?”

“I hadn’t missed it for a moment,” Laris said.

“That’s one of the things that happens when Vulcanoids enter into their really serious healing phases,” Beverly said. “You began that halfway through the transport—as soon as you believed me that I really wasn’t tricking you and taking you somewhere else.” Laris simply stared at her. Beverly smiled at her. “I know you’re afraid to trust me, but…you can trust me. Now—will you do me a favor?” Laris hummed in question. “Please…please…will you eat something? I know you refused to take anything from Doctor M’Pram or her nurses. Will you take something from me? Or Jean-Luc…I’ll have him bring it. Just…I need you to eat something. Anything.”

“Whatever you bring me,” Laris said, “I will eat. If…”

“If?” Beverly asked.

“Please—I’m so thirsty…” Laris said. “Every time I wouldn’t eat, they said…if I wouldn’t take food, I clearly didn’t need anything else.”

Beverly frowned.

“I knew that things weren’t what they should have been. I wish I could say that I’m surprised, but I’ve seen things in others’ sickbays.”

“I’m a Romulan,” Laris said, offering Beverly something of a smile.

Beverly’s chest tightened. She shook her head.

“I’m not even honoring that with a response. I’ll bring you water,” she promised. “If you’ll eat for me, I’ll bring you all the water you can drink. And—even if you won’t eat, I’ll still bring you water.”

111

“You look lost, Jean-Luc,” Beverly said.

He looked at her, for just one moment, as though he didn’t recognize her. For just a moment, he looked as if he were entirely lost—just as she’d said. She half-expected him to tell her that he had no memory of this place or of her face.

Recognition and the return to the present settled over him. She saw it, just as surely as she might have seen something dripping down his face.

He smiled a truly exhausted smile.

“You’ll excuse me if I say that—I’m feeling rather lost,” Jean-Luc said.

“Overwhelmed,” Beverly said.

“Are you offering that as a description of my feelings, or your own?” Jean-Luc asked.

“Both,” Beverly said.

He laughed quietly.

“You would be quite right,” he said. “I would offer you wine, but…”

Beverly touched her fingers to her belly. The little one inside of her wasn’t moving yet to a point where she could sense it. Still, she was entirely aware of its presence. There were moments where she wondered if she was more aware of this baby than she had been with Wesley and Jack. She’d decided that probably wasn’t the case, but it had been so long that she’d forgotten a great deal of what she’d felt before.

“I would love some…milk…honestly,” she said. “Very cold.”

“I believe the replicator can handle such an order,” Jean-Luc said, going to get the milk. She followed him.

“Replicators,” she said.

“Laris insisted,” Jean-Luc said. “We do much of—everything—around here as we did before. The technology is limited. Frequently, the food and beverages are prepared by hand, but we do have the replicators.”

“Laris does much of everything by hand,” Beverly said. “Is that what you mean?”

“She has cared for this home for around twenty years,” Jean-Luc said, nodding as he handed Beverly the ice cold glass of milk. She tasted it, pleased to find that it was what she wanted. She followed him as he took his glass of wine and led her out to a terrace.

“And the man who calls it home?” Beverly asked.

“She has cared for him, as well,” Jean-Luc said.

Beverly expected the mix of emotions that flooded her—gratitude to Laris for caring for Jean-Luc along with a hint of jealousy.

“Her respiration is improving,” Beverly said. “It still needs to improve more, but…I’ll take what I can get. I am not happy with her pulse, yet. I’ve already found a tear in her heart that we didn’t see before. It should heal with the regenerator, but if it doesn’t—I’ll cross that bridge when I get there. She ate for the first time. She drank a great deal of water. She was able to relieve herself.” Beverly laughed. “You don’t want to hear all of this.”

“On the contrary,” Jean-Luc said. “I want to know how she’s doing. I also want to support you however I can, and I know it has always helped you to talk about what’s happening.”

“Her nictitating membrane is still shuttering,” Beverly said. “I don’t like that at all, but…she’s sleeping now. This time, she’s sleeping without a sedative.” She drew in a breath and let it out. “Tomorrow’s a new day, and it’s foolish to think that just being in the Château would magically heal her. I’m not a fool, and I’m not even a green doctor. I know that was just…daydreaming.”

“But she is improving.”

“She is improving,” Beverly said.

“That is all owing to your care,” Jean-Luc said, “and your recognition of what she needs. Your willingness to provide it.”

Beverly laughed at his cheeriness. Whether it was entirely genuine or a bit put on her for her benefit, she didn’t know. It also didn’t matter.

“She’s going to recover. I expect she’ll be stronger and better tomorrow.”

“I’m sure she will,” Jean-Luc said. “Can I—go in to say goodnight to her, or…?”

“If you don’t wake her,” Beverly said. “Please—this is the first time she’s slept on her own.”

Jean-Luc smiled softly and nodded.

“For tonight, I’ll just let her sleep.”

111

“This is new,” Beverly said, standing under the flow of hot water in the shower.

Jean-Luc slipped in behind her and, immediately, wrapped his arms around her and leaned against her back. She felt him press his lips to her shoulder, and a shiver of pleasure ran through her body.

“The bathrooms needed to be redone,” Jean-Luc said. “This was an upgrade.”

Beverly laughed quietly.

“Laris picked it out?” She asked.

She felt him tense. She tensed in response and then relaxed.

“It’s OK,” she said. “Jean-Luc—I’m very aware of your life. I’m aware that—you had a life, just as I did. I’m happy, honestly, that she was…here. I’m happy that she was able to love you. Maybe it’s time. Maybe it’s experience. Maybe it’s the realization that death really is coming for us all. Or, maybe it’s the fact that she loved you that…that made you open to this.”

Beverly took his hand moved it down. She pressed it to her abdomen. She felt his fingers tense and, then, spread open to relax his palm against her skin. She pressed his hand a bit more and closed her eyes.

“I am very aware, Jean-Luc, of your love for her. It has done amazing things. It created this.”

“And yet,” Jean-Luc said, his face still resting against Beverly, “I’m finding that—when I touch you like this, all I can think about is…the last time you were like this, when you carried Jack. I wasn’t there. I missed all of it. Every moment. And, though I know it’s not an acceptable thought, I keep thinking—what if this is a second chance of sorts?”

Beverly pulled away from him. She turned around. She caught his face in her hands.

“I don’t know what this is,” she said. “For any of us. I don’t know what this is, Jean-Luc. When I was carrying Jack, I wanted you there, but I knew that you couldn’t be there. I knew it was better for everyone, really, if you weren’t there.”

“Was it truly better for all of us?” Jean-Luc asked.

Beverly felt her stomach tighten. She felt a wave of nausea. She closed her eyes. The medication she took for the morning sickness was wearing off. She needed another dose. This little one was becoming integrated, as Doctor M’Pram had said, but she still felt like it was expressing some feelings about the change of location.

“I may have made a mistake,” Beverly said. “I don’t know if I did, or I didn’t. That’s the thing about choices, Jean-Luc. We can look back and think—if I had done this some other way, here’s how it would have turned out, but we both know that it’s not true. We’re always seeing just one possibility. One way it might have turned out. There’s no way of knowing what might have really happened. If it was a mistake, then—I’m sorry for all of us.”

“I have made my share of mistakes, too,” Jean-Luc said. “And for each of them, I am truly sorry, Beverly. I am especially sorry for every mistake that hurt you.”

She smiled at him.

“This baby isn’t Jack,” she said.

“No,” he said, shaking his head.

“But—it is your baby,” Beverly said. “And—you deserve the chance to enjoy all the little things about fatherhood, Jean-Luc, that you have never known before. If you want to know them now, of course.”

“I want so many things,” Jean-Luc said. “Life has become far more complicated than I imagined it would be, at my age.”

Beverly laughed quietly.

“Life has become very complicated,” she said. “But—we’ll figure it out.”

“Together?” Jean-Luc asked. There was palpable anxiety. Beverly leaned and kissed him softly.

“Together,” she whispered against his lips.

“I’m sorry for complicating things so much,” he said.

“I’m not sure that you can take responsibility for that, alone,” Beverly said. “It’s going to be fine, Jean-Luc. I’m not saying it’ll be easy, but…we’ve both always enjoyed an adventure.”

Chapter Text

AN: Here we are, another piece of this one, and a little step forward!

I hope you enjoy! If you do, please do let me know!

111

“Here—can you push yourself up? There we go—we’ll just move this out of the way for now,” Beverly said, moving the regenerator out of the way, just as she’d said she would.

“Oh!” Laris breathed out.

It was a heartfelt sigh of relief, and Beverly smiled to herself as she gathered everything else she needed.

Laris’ room was cozy and warm. The bed was large enough to make it clear that she had shared the room with her husband, Zhaban, in the years that they had spent there together. Beverly had the distinct feeling that she had likely rearranged the room, after his passing, but it still remained quite comfortable.

It was also undeniable proof, to Beverly, that it was Laris who had taken the Château from the cold, simply functional structure that it had been when she’d first known it—when Jean-Luc had first restored it—to the warm, happy home that it seemed to be now.

“Does that feel better?” Beverly asked.

“I’d forgotten what it felt like to think I could draw a full breath,” Laris said. “So—is everything healed?”

“Not entirely,” Beverly said. “Not yet. But everything is looking much better. I think you can handle moving around some today. We’ll put that back on when you’re sleeping.”

Beverly caught her face, and Laris stiffened, but then relaxed. She allowed Beverly to flash the light in her eyes, though it wasn’t a truly pleasant experience, Beverly knew.

“Your nictitating membrane is covering your eye, and our environment certainly can’t be to blame for that. I don’t like that. However, it’s no longer shuttering, so I’ll take the improvement. You are healing, and that’s good enough for now. Now—let’s get you cleaned up for breakfast. If you’re feeling up to it, I’ll walk with you a bit outside, after breakfast. I think you could use the sunlight. I know Jean-Luc is going to be thrilled to see you up and moving around.”

Beverly brought over everything she’d hauled to Laris’ room for her to have a sponge bath.

“I’ll help you bathe later,” Beverly said. “A bath or a shower, I don’t know which you prefer. I thought, for now, we could do something quick, and you wouldn’t use too much of your energy. Remember—you’ve suffered a lot of muscle damage and, while you’re healing well, you’re going to need to work up to things for a few more days.”

“I can do it myself,” Laris insisted. Beverly ceded, knowing that independence was likely very important to the woman. Showing vulnerability, after all, was one of the greatest acts of intimacy for a Romulan. Beverly averted her eyes and turned her attention to her PADD, because she didn’t want to risk making Laris uncomfortable. She jumped when Laris’ voice broke the silence. “I don’t want to have breakfast with Jean-Luc.”

Beverly furrowed her brow at Laris.

“I think you should leave this room a little. We could have—anything you want to eat. Would you prefer to eat outside, in the sunlight and fresh air?”

“I don’t want to see Jean-Luc,” Laris said.

“While I normally respect my patients’ wishes without argument,” Beverly said, “I do feel that—circumstances are a bit different here. I’ve accepted that you were tired and quite unwell for the past two days. Is there some reason that, now, you don’t want to see him?”

Laris wouldn’t make eye contact with her. She hadn’t undressed yet, and she wasn’t washing herself. She was simply sitting, wetting the cloth in her hand, squeezing out the excess water, and repeating the action.

Beverly could feel the heaviness of emotion in the air.

“You are a good person,” Laris said, still not looking at Beverly. “Jean-Luc spoke very highly of you. Starfleet speaks highly of you. Even our intelligence on you spoke of how wonderful you were as a doctor, and how much you care about…everyone.”

“I’m hardly a saint,” Beverly responded, moving closer to Laris, and coming to sit by her on the bed. Laris hummed in response and smiled. Beverly felt her chest tighten. She didn’t believe that smile at all.

“The kindest thing you could have done for me was—let me go,” Laris said.

Beverly frowned at her.

“I understand that Romulans have their—their honor—but…I couldn’t have just let that ship explode with you in it.”

“No,” Laris said. “No—you did what you had to do. You did the best thing, then.”

“Then—I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“Once you transferred…” Laris broke off. Beverly didn’t interrupt her. One part of healing was always going to be dealing with the body. The other part, however, was dealing with everything else that went with the trauma that the body carried. “Once you completed that transfer, the kindest thing you could have done was to let me go.” Laris shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. She didn’t look at Beverly.

Beverly moved over toward her. She took the cloth from Laris’ hand, squeezed it out, and used it to wipe at Laris’ face.

“What are you doing?” Laris asked.

“Close your eyes,” Beverly said. “I’m taking care of you.”

“Why?” Laris asked.

“Because—it’s been a while since someone did,” Beverly said. “Hasn’t it? Who was the last person that—took care of you? Really took care of Laris? Your husband? Or did you take care of him? Your mother?”

“I didn’t know my mother,” Laris said, softening. She allowed Beverly to wash her face. Beverly took a great deal more time and put in a great deal more care than was absolutely necessary. The act of washing, she decided, wouldn’t be about simply removing the sweat and everything else from the woman’s body—not this time.

“I’m sorry,” Beverly said. “Did she—die when you were born, or…?”

“The newer Romulans don’t follow all of the older laws,” Laris said. “When I was small, it was customary that, when your children were born, you sent them to…to a place where they were raised together. Children were citizens of the Empire—future soldiers. They were not to be coddled. I didn’t know my family. I didn’t have a family. I was elected to marry Zhaban at birth. Our partner was Miran. I didn’t have a family until I joined our bond.”

“A bond is a marriage,” Beverly said, mostly clarifying things for herself.

“A trust bond must include three members,” Laris said. “Three is the number of truth and trust. You must have absolute truth in a bond. Three keeps you honest.”

Beverly had helped to dress Laris for the transport in a medical gown. She’d left her in it, while she’d been healing, at the Château. Now, she unfastened it and let it fall away. Laris put up a hand like she might protest. Beverly caught her hand and squeezed her fingers.

“Let me,” Beverly said. “I won’t tell anyone—not even Jean-Luc, if you want. Your secret is safe with me. Please—let me take care of you,” Laris clearly considered it, but she softened and let Beverly go about washing her with the water and soap. “Tell me about your bond.”

Laris smiled.

“I loved them very much,” she said. “We lost Miran early. We were only joined for two years—maybe three. We wanted children, and she was expecting. She took the first of our children with her, when they…”

“I don’t need the details,” Beverly offered, when Laris broke off. She didn’t want to push her. She was free from the machines for now, but that also meant that Beverly was trusting that she didn’t need to be too closely monitored. In the back of her mind, though, she knew that the woman wasn’t fully healed. There was no need to tempt fate. “When did you have your baby?”

Laris looked at her. Her color changed slightly. Beverly offered her the best reassuring smile that she could.

“The body tells our secrets, sometimes, even when our mouths guard the silence,” Beverly offered. Laris softened, accepting how Beverly had come to know information that she hadn’t yet shared.

“It wasn’t more than a year or so after we lost Miran,” Laris said. She smiled. “He was perfect. Of course, he had to be…Romulan laws…forbid imperfections.”

“Unfortunately, I’m aware,” Beverly said.

“Zhaban and I were—very good Tal Shiar agents, and so they turned a blind eye when we wanted to keep our child, just as many of the newer generation of Romulans were doing,” Laris said. “Family makes you weak. At least—that’s what they believed. They also recognized that family was a wonderful way of controlling agents. We were very good agents, but…we were also terrible agents. Both of us had beliefs that…weren’t popular with the Empire or the Tal Shiar.” She frowned and shook her head. “They—showed us the error of our ways one night. I should have stopped them. They should have never been able to…to…but I wasn’t vigilant enough. It was the middle of the night, and before I could even reach them…”

“Shhh…” Beverly offered softly. She used a different rag from the small stack she’d brought, and she wiped at Laris’ face again. “That’s not your fault.”

“You don’t understand,” Laris said.

“No,” Beverly said. “Not exactly, but…I understand enough. When did you come here?”

“After that night, they—took Zhaban. They returned him, but…they made sure that we would never have a family together. It wasn’t long after that when I defied them,” Laris said. “I couldn’t take the lives I was assigned to take. We fled, knowing they would kill me and likely Zhaban, too. Jean-Luc accepted us for asylum. Suddenly, here, my job was to care for the home, the vineyards, Zhaban…Jean-Luc and Number One.”

She smiled and broke off for a moment, clearly remembering something that had made her very happy, at least for a moment in time.

“Have you ever felt peace after you believed that peace was nothing more than a fairy tale?” Laris asked.

“I’m hoping for some peace now,” Beverly admitted. Laris looked at her intently. The look was almost too intense. Beverly broke their eye contact. She brought a towel to begin drying Laris. Laris tried to take the towel, but Beverly pulled it back as a way of insisting that she had started this task, and she intended to finish it. Laris accepted. “Zhaban died of natural causes?”

“A heart attack,” Laris said. She laughed, and Beverly had no doubt that it was ironic. “After everything, and he died of a heart attack. Sudden. It was just—over.”

“He was very young,” Beverly said. “It was likely the result of something he’d suffered at the hands of…them.”

“Very young,” Laris mused.

“And Jean-Luc? You bonded with him, did you not?” Beverly asked.

“A bond can only be complete when there are three,” Laris said. “No—we are not bonded. I loved Jean-Luc…deeply. When he spoke to me about you, in the beginning, I supported him. You were gone. When I knew that you’d come back into his life? I accepted that—if he came to Chaltok IV, I would have my answer. I would tell him about the baby, then. If he didn’t come to Chaltok IV, I would have my answer—a different one, but an answer all the same. I decided that I would come back, then, to return Number One and to get anything here that I couldn’t live without. I could live without Jean-Luc—he’d found love and happiness, and that’s all I’d ever really wanted for him. I could live without—this home. I could make another home, somewhere else.”

“Romulans are not a solitary species at all,” Beverly said. “Despite what you might have people believe. You were just going to—be alone?”

Laris shook her head gently.

“No,” she said. “I was going to have my baby. Now—I don’t have that. You should have—let me go. That would have been the kindest thing that you could have done for me.”

Beverly moved the tub aside. She handed the towel to Laris, and Laris instinctively wrapped it around herself, though Romulans were not at all known for their modesty. Beverly brushed back the damp hair that had picked up water from the multiple times that Beverly had wiped the woman’s face.

“OK—we’re going to do this now, and we’re going to do it a dozen times a day, if that’s what this takes. I know that this is difficult. It’s traumatic. I know that, and I cannot begin to know what you’re going through. But—what I do know, is that you haven’t lost your baby. OK? Your body thinks you have. I understand that you’re going through every physical response of a woman who has lost her baby, and I’m looking at ways that I can help you even with that, but your baby is right here.”

Beverly took Laris’ hand and pressed it to her abdomen. Laris tried to pull her hand away, and she was successful. Even still healing, she was stronger than Beverly.

“I hope you don’t think that…that I’m doing this without help and support,” Beverly said. She laughed quietly. “This was not in my plans. I’m already taking medicine for morning sickness that is worse than I’ve ever known before—worse than I could even imagine—and I still feel nauseous, even with the strongest medication I have available to me.”

Laris’ eyes filled with tears, but a hint of a smile tipped her lips upward.

“Jean-Luc likes these little lemon candies,” Laris said. “They’re very bitter, but they help with the nausea.”

“I’ve been craving lemon water,” Beverly said. “Maybe it’s the lemon candies the baby is trying to ask for.” She raised her eyebrows at Laris. “Something familiar, maybe. Something that—reminds it of Mama. We don’t know enough about transfers, but…I believe your baby misses you, just like you miss it.”

“It’s not my baby anymore,” Laris said, shaking her head.

“It never stopped being your baby,” Beverly said. “This baby is half you—it’s half your DNA. No matter where it grows, that never changes. I need your help. Can you help me—and the baby?”

Laris gasped for air, but Beverly didn’t immediately move to offer medical intervention. She took her hands, instead, and held them.

“Slow breaths,” she offered. “Come on—breathe with me. Oxygen is good for the baby, too. In…out…”

Slowly, Beverly helped the woman to calm and get her breathing back under control.

“The baby is healthy?” Laris asked. Beverly smiled and nodded. She accepted that there would be a million reassurances of all sorts throughout this pregnancy, and she didn’t mind.

“I need to scan it later,” Beverly said. “Just to check on things. Everything is fine, but…I like to keep a check on things. Will you—help me? When it’s time?”

She still held Laris’ hands and she felt the woman tense. She didn’t pull away, though. If she had, she would have been free of Beverly’s grasp with ease. Even for a very weakened state, Beverly knew that she would have been easily overpowered.

“It’s still your baby,” Beverly repeated once more. “And I think it would do you good to see it. Hear the heartbeat. Have you had a scan?”

Laris shook her head.

“Romulans don’t do that,” she said. “None of it. If a baby isn’t meant to survive…”

“Maybe we only keep the Romulan practices that we like, in our home?” Beverly offered.

“Our home…” Laris said.

“I wasn’t lying to you. I can’t do this alone. I won’t do this alone. I need your help. I need you—and the baby needs you, too. The baby wants you here…and so do Jean-Luc and I.”

Laris considered her a moment.

“I will help with the scan,” Laris said. “If you need help.”

Beverly nodded gently. She didn’t truly need a great deal of help with the scan, but it was best if she let Laris believe that she did. It was a deception, perhaps, and not the absolute truth that Laris had mentioned earlier, but it was what Beverly would have called a merciful deception. Beverly offered her a smile.

“And the next time that you’re pregnant,” Beverly said, “I can help you with the scan, then. You can experience it a whole different way.”

Laris laughed ironically.

“Next time,” she mused.

A tear dropped down her cheek and Beverly wiped it away.

“You’re very young,” Beverly said. “From my perspective, you’re young for a human. I’ve delivered a number of human babies from mothers older than you. But as a Romulan? Laris—you’re practically a baby yourself, as a Romulan. You have so much time to have the family you want—anything you could dream of. There will be a next time—and I’ll be here to help you have whatever experience you desire.”

Laris opened her mouth like she might speak, and then she closed it, clearly deciding not to say whatever she might have been about to say.

“Can we get you dressed and have breakfast with Jean-Luc? The baby hasn’t been the only one at the Château that’s been missing you. Jean-Luc is going to wear ruts in the floors. And Number One has been sleeping outside your door until—we finally put a blanket there for him.”

“I don’t know—what to say to Jean-Luc,” Laris admitted.

Beverly got up and started going through her drawers.

“Do you want to wear something in particular?” She asked. She moved to her closet.

“I don’t care,” Laris said.

“A dress will be best,” Beverly said. “Something comfortable—easy in, easy out. How were you going to tell Jean-Luc about the baby on Chaltok IV?”

“What?” Laris asked.

“I think this,” Beverly said choosing underwear from Laris’ drawer and a soft yellow dress. She brought it to the bed and offered it to Laris. “Do you need help?”

Laris shook her head and started to dress, recognizing that Beverly fully intended to dress her, herself, if she refused.

“How were you going to tell Jean-Luc about the baby, if he came to Chaltok IV?” Beverly asked.

“I don’t know,” Laris admitted. “I never really believed that he would come.”

“And you planned—not to tell him at all, if he didn’t come?” Beverly asked.

“I know you probably think that makes me a horrible person…” Laris said.

Beverly laughed to herself.

“Not at all,” she said. “I’ll tell you a story, later—when we’re walking, so you can get some sun and fresh air. Think about…how you want to tell Jean-Luc about the baby at breakfast.”

“He already knows,” Laris said with a laugh.

“But part of having a baby is getting to tell people about it,” Beverly said. “Especially your partner—or partners. And, sometimes, even when we know something, it helps to make it really real when we can talk about it a bit more. I hate that you were denied the chance to tell him. I know—how important that is. How—empty it can feel that you don’t get to say it. It’s important for your healing, but it’s important for Jean-Luc, too, and it’s important for me.”

“Important for you?” Laris asked.

Beverly smiled at her. She ran her fingers through some of the tangles in Laris’ hair.

“I need reassurance, too, that you aren’t expecting me to handle this alone. I need to hear you taking your role as a mother back. So—you’ll tell us both about the baby at breakfast. Think about how you want to do that. We’ll be happy to hear it, however you choose. Do you have a hairbrush?”

Chapter Text

AN: Here we are, another chapter here.

I’m so sorry for the delay. Real life has been difficult for the last while, and it’s not entirely better yet, but I am at least trying to write some.

If you read this, I do hope you enjoy! I am going to try to have more soon! If you do enjoy, please do let me know!

111

Beverly had never seen Jean-Luc as happy to prepare breakfast as he appeared to be this morning. While she had readied Laris for a day that, although it would be quite low-key for most, would be eventful given everything from which she was recovering, Jean-Luc had taken a trip into town to buy provisions. By the time they made it into the kitchen, he was happily setting the little table with croissants, various jams and spreads, and a number of other items, including a meat whose scent drew Beverly’s attention in a way she wouldn’t have normally expected from herself.

Jean-Luc was humming to himself as he heaped plates with food that he was clearly deciding each of them would eat. From the looks of it, he expected robust appetites all the way around. At the sight of the food, Beverly’s stomach rumbled—a show of appreciation from an appetite that had been suffering, mostly, from the presence of her new companion. The medication, she assumed, was beginning to work well with her system.

Beverly had insisted on taking Laris’ arm to support her as they walked. She’d insisted, because she knew that the Romulan woman wouldn’t ask for help, but she’d accept it if she were left no other choice. From the weight that Beverly could feel, she knew that Laris had needed the help, even if she wouldn’t have wanted to admit that she was still quite weak.

“Laris!” Jean-Luc said, looking up from his work and abandoning it, all at once.

His delight at seeing her up and moving about was genuine. It was palpable. It squeezed at Beverly’s chest and tightened her throat. She felt happy for him—with him, even. It was clear that his response was honest and instant. He rushed toward them, prepared to embrace Laris.

Beverly saw Laris’ pull back. She felt it. Laris backed a full step away from Jean-Luc and he stopped, realizing that it wasn’t imagined, and she hadn’t simply stumbled.

Beverly felt everything inside of her sink as Jean-Luc’s expression fell and his brow furrowed.

Beverly understood, and she wished that she didn’t. She wished there was nothing for her to understand.

Laris was quite literally stepping back—away from Jean-Luc. She’d seen all of this as Jean-Luc making his choice, perhaps. He hadn’t been coming to Chaltok IV. That was her belief. Beverly, honestly, wasn’t sure how things might have played out, if they hadn’t gone the way they currently were, but she understood that Laris believed that Jean-Luc had made his decision, even if Beverly was almost certain that Jean-Luc was the most conflicted of all of them.

What could Beverly say about it? What could she do?

A part of her felt guilty for her part in something she knew nothing about—not until she’d gotten involved. A part of her felt that she should step back—but how could she do that?

The biggest part of her felt that she simply wasn’t satisfied with the way that things were going—the way it seemed that they might go—and she had to find some solution for her own peace of mind and, truly, for that of those around her, as well.

For now, though, she had no solution.

She offered Jean-Luc something of a reassuring smile, her chest aching to see the pain in his expression. Some might argue that this was his fault—and perhaps it was—but Beverly didn’t have the heart to condemn him at the moment.

“Breakfast looks wonderful,” Beverly said, hoping her voice gave away nothing of the absolute flood of emotion that she felt like she was holding back. With her hands, she held as strongly to the Romulan woman’s arm as she held onto her emotional composure. She wasn’t going to let her retreat farther than the step she’d allowed.

“Yes—breakfast…” Jean-Luc said.

Beverly wondered if she could blame her feelings on the little half-Romulan that she was keeping safe. She knew that the little thing wasn’t responsible for all of her emotions, though. This was simply complicated, and she loved Jean-Luc enough that she didn’t want to see him hurt.

She realized, too, a little too suddenly and with a little bit of an unexpected impact, that she cared about Laris enough that she didn’t want to see her hurt, either—physically or emotionally.

She wondered exactly the moment that had happened, and that she’d come to care about the woman in quite this way. It didn’t matter. She felt how she felt, and that was all there was to it.

“Let’s have some breakfast,” Beverly said, pushing Laris forward and toward a chair.

“Yes—I—everything is quite fresh,” Jean-Luc said. “I tried to think of everything, but…if there’s something I missed, please let me know.”

“I think we have everything we need,” Beverly said. She practically pushed Laris into a chair. She sat, herself, and then Jean-Luc sat, after hovering around his own chair for a moment like he wasn’t sure what one was supposed to do with a chair. He had meant to pull the chair out for one or both of them, Beverly was sure, and that hadn’t worked out any better than anything else he’d envisioned.

“I would like you to eat as much as you possibly can,” Beverly said, directing her words to Laris. “You need your strength.”

Laris didn’t look directly at Beverly. In fact, she kept eye contact with nothing more than the food on her plate for a moment.

“I am not the one who needs to ensure that they are eating properly,” she challenged.

Beverly considered her possible responses. She also reminded herself that she didn’t want to imagine everything that Laris must be feeling at the moment. She picked up her croissant and, as a gesture of accord, she pulled a piece from it and ate it. Laris watched her, her eyes turned toward Beverly even if her face hadn’t committed entirely to the gesture.

Beverly gestured with her head, and Laris picked up a piece of the meat from her plate that smelled good in a way that Beverly hadn’t expected it could.

Satisfied that they were both going to eat, Beverly looked at Jean-Luc and offered him another smile to try to reassure him.

“Speaking of…everything…” Beverly said. “Jean-Luc, I think…Laris might have something that she wants to discuss.”

“I am certainly…anxious…to hear anything that she might be willing to say,” Jean-Luc offered.

Beverly thought the tension at the table could have easily been sliced into sections with one of the knives present.

“You will forgive me for sounding a bit Vulcan when I say that…it simply isn’t logical for me to pretend to announce something that everyone at the table already knows about,” Laris said. She sighed and shook her head. “Jean-Luc is aware of the baby, as are you. What else is there to say?”

“Congratulations,” Beverly offered.

“Congratulations,” Laris said back, her voice an uncomfortable monotone.

“I was telling you congratulations,” Beverly said. “My apologies. I may not have—made that clear.”

Laris simply frowned at her and picked at her food to have a reason not to make eye contact with anyone.

“Would you have told me on Chaltok IV?” Jean-Luc asked.

“If you had come,” Laris said.

“How?” Jean-Luc asked.

“Does it matter?” Laris countered quickly.

“I have heard fathers talk about the moment that they learned they were destined to become a father,” Jean-Luc said. “Many of them speak about it with…a great deal of emotion. They speak about it with happiness. Overwhelming happiness, even. I’m afraid that—it seems as if I only learn about it with some accompanying sense of danger and panic. Perhaps…I would like to, at least, imagine a moment in which I might be told another way.”

Beverly reached a hand over. She touched Laris’ shoulder. She felt the tension there, but she didn’t pull her hand away. She worked her fingers to offer comfort and reassurance. After a second, Laris relaxed a little.

“I had requested living quarters with two rooms,” Laris said. “Family quarters. I didn’t imagine that you would be coming, but I planned to…prepare the room. If you came, I thought that I could show you the second room. I would tell you, then, given that I imagined you might be a bit too…obtuse…to figure it out without assistance.”

Jean-Luc laughed.

And, then, Laris laughed.

And, finally, Beverly felt the massive knotted tangle of emotions within her gut begin to unravel itself a bit as she laughed, too.

The laughter felt good. It felt wonderful. The thought that Jean-Luc would be too obtuse to figure out what Laris might be trying to tell him—with the imagined image of possibly an entirely decorated nursery and, perhaps, some physical evidence of her condition—was something they could all understand and laugh at together.

Beverly wished, for a moment, that they could have a great many more moments of laughter like this, instead of the heavy sense of melancholy that had hung about like a great, damp cloud. As the laughter ended, though, the heaviness settled about them again.

“And if I hadn’t come,” Jean-Luc said. Laris looked at him. For the first time this morning, she really looked at him. Beverly could practically feel the emotions radiating out from Laris. Jean-Luc nodded his head. “There’s no reason to say it,” he said. “I am beginning to—very truly understand that, entirely without meaning to do so, I have done a very good job of becoming the kind of man who…who nobody believes will be a very good father.”

“I never said that,” Laris said quickly and sharply. “And I’ll have you not put words into my mouth, Jean-Luc Picard.”

“You would have wanted me to be a father?”

“I would have wanted you to want that,” Laris said. “And I know that you don’t want that. Beyond that, I wouldn’t want to take from you anything that I knew would truly make you happy, to force you into something that would make you miserable. I couldn’t live my whole life with you gazing off into space like you do—knowing you’d rather be anywhere else but here…or there…with me.”

“With you…and our child,” Jean-Luc said, offering the words clearly as a suggestion.

“It doesn’t matter now,” Laris said.

“It matters a great deal!” Jean-Luc said, his voice rising.

“I believe that Jean-Luc is particularly sensitive about the matter,” Beverly intercepted, “because, what you don’t know, Laris, is that…we have a son.”

Laris looked at her with a furrowed brow.

“A son?” She asked.

Beverly nodded. She smiled.

“Jack,” she said. “He’s—quite grown and headed to Starfleet, even as we speak. I kept him a secret from his father. I can’t say that was the best choice, at this point, but it was the choice that I made at the time.”

Laris looked at her a bit owl-eyed. Then, she looked at Jean-Luc and back at Beverly.

“So, you see…you are not the first to decide that, perhaps you are better off without me,” Jean-Luc offered.

“That was never my feeling,” Laris said.

“Nor mine,” Beverly said. “But—at the moment, I believe there a lot of emotions that are quite heightened for everyone present. Perhaps none of us are thinking entirely rationally about anything. I…recommend that we all allow each other a great deal of grace and as much understanding as we can possibly find in ourselves to give.”

“Would you have wanted to be a father?” Laris asked, no hint of judgement in her tone. It was a sincere question, and Beverly relaxed a bit to know that they were going to have something of an honest discussion.

“I can’t say that I would have known the answer to that question without quite so much time to think about it,” Jean-Luc said. “Or that I would have initially responded in a way that would have made me proud. I am only human, as they say.” He laughed. “Though that’s not entirely true now, is it? Still—with the time that I’ve been granted to think about it—and to think about a great number of things—I can say that, now, I do want that. I want it much more than I ever would have imagined I might.”

“And now you can be,” Beverly said. “You and Jack—you’ve planted the seed there, and that relationship will continue to grow, Jean-Luc. And this baby? You get to start from the beginning.”

Jean-Luc smiled and nodded. Beverly felt sure that he was holding back some emotion.

“I intend to do my best,” Jean-Luc said after a moment. “Even if I may not be entirely sure, each step of the way, what that entails, exactly.”

Beverly laughed quietly.

“I think that’s the most we can ask of anyone—of each other. Right now, that’s what we’re all doing. And, somehow, it’s going to be enough for all of us. We’re going to figure this out. All of it. Together.”

Chapter Text

AN: Here’s another piece to this one! Disclaimer that it’s not exactly how I wanted it to be, but it’s as close as I seem to be able to get it. LOL

If you read, I hope you enjoy. If you enjoy, please do let me know!

111

Beverly took her time in the bathroom, moisturizing her skin with more care than the act truly required. She examined herself in the mirror, turning sideways and smoothing down the soft, silky fabric of the pajamas she’d chosen. She couldn’t help but smile.

The tiny bump was there. Even this early, it was there. She could explain it with a speech about angles and tilting. She could explain it with a speech about how she had carried babies before. She could even explain it with a little speech about the fact that this baby—half-Romulan, growing nicely, and weighing in a little heavier than a fully human baby of the same gestational age—was larger and, therefore, a little more noticeable as it settled into her womb and made itself quite at home. She could talk about her frame and her weight pre-pregnancy. She could even talk about bloat and fluid retention.

It didn’t matter what explanation she chose; the fact remained the same—she could already see some small evidence of the little one she was carrying.

“Your Mama loves you very, very much,” Beverly offered, brushing her fingers over her belly. “You’re not going to forget that, and I’m not going to let her forget that, either. I’ll take care of you, though. I promise.”

Laris had insisted that breakfast had taken just about all the energy that she had to spare. Beverly had talked her into a short walk in the sunlight, but she’d accepted when the woman said, after only a few minutes of Beverly trying to force conversation, that she was simply too exhausted to stand any of it. She’d slept through lunch, argued that she wasn’t hungry during dinner, and had finally eaten a few bites of food to pacify Beverly—though only after Beverly had threatened not to eat, herself, if Laris opted to skip another meal.

Beverly accepted that Laris was quite stubborn, but she could be stubborn, herself, when it was necessary.

Beverly was a little reluctant to assume that this was depression, wanting to give every other explanation the benefit of the doubt first, but in her gut, she knew the truth—and she couldn’t blame Laris at all.

Her body knew that she had been pregnant. It knew that she was no longer pregnant. It also knew that she had no baby, in her newly not-pregnant state, to nurture. It was responding to that on every level.

Beverly had known the scan could go either way. She had hoped it would comfort Laris to see that her baby was alive and doing well. She had also accepted, though, that it may be difficult for the woman to see proof that the baby had, indeed, changed locations for the duration of its gestation.

Laris hadn’t been extremely overt with her feelings, but Beverly had felt like she could sense them deep inside.

In the bedroom, Jean-Luc was sleeping. He’d fallen asleep half-sitting in bed. An open book lay beside him, as though he’d drifted off mid-page and it had slipped from his fingers. Beverly tucked a bookmark in to mark his page, placed the book on the nightstand by the bed, and slipped on her robe before padding down the hallway to Laris’ room.

Number One kept vigil by Laris’ door, resting on the bed they’d put there for him.

“Man’s best friend,” Beverly teased, leaning down to pat the dog’s head. “It’s OK. I won’t tell Jean-Luc that you spent the night out here again.”

She straightened up and tapped at the door. There came no response from inside. Beverly turned the handle and eased the door slightly open. There was a lamp on, so she let herself the rest of the way in.

“So much for privacy,” Laris said, practically breathing out the words.

“Was I interrupting something?” Beverly asked, finding her on the bed with a book, herself.

“And if you were?” Laris asked.

“I would like to see your nictating membrane, and you need help getting back in that regeneration unit, because you are absolutely not healed and can’t handle the unit on your own,” Beverly said. “If you want me to leave you alone after that, then I will grant you your privacy for the rest of the evening.”

Laris stared at her, hard, and then she softened.

“I’m sorry,” she breathed out.

“I’m sorry for invading your privacy,” Beverly said. She came over, gathered up the portable regeneration unit, and moved it so that she could begin to fasten it correctly around Laris’ body.

“How much longer until I’m free from this?” Laris asked.

“I’ll scan you as soon as I’m done,” Beverly said. “A few days, possibly? You’re healing better than you were, but not as well as you could be.”

“As I could be?” Laris asked.

“Better nutrition,” Beverly said, “and not fighting me over meals would help. Rest—good rest. You’re not sleeping when you say you are. Not always. If you were, you wouldn’t be quite so green.”

Laris laughed quietly. Then, she groaned, but she relaxed into the unit and allowed herself to be fully fastened into it. Beverly got a bit more comfortable on the bed beside her. She softened, too.

“Where’s my bag?” Beverly asked, looking around.

“Just there,” Laris said.

Beverly spotted it and pulled it over. She scanned Laris, first.

“Fever—expected. It’s not too high, though. I’m not worried. Not much improvement since this morning. You’re still terribly dehydrated, too.”

She reached for the glass that was by the bedside. The pitcher of water was fresh, too. She’d brought it in earlier. She poured a glass, held the straw steady, and offered it out to Laris.

“Drink as much as you want,” Beverly said.

“I’ll be calling you all night to help me to the bathroom,” Laris said with a laugh. She dutifully sucked down most of the glass, though, coming up for air in between large swallows.

“I’ll be up and going to the bathroom constantly, anyway,” Beverly said, laughing too. She stopped when she saw Laris’ expression change slightly. She felt the shift in her stomach. She put on the best smile she could, despite the aching that settled in her throat, and took her flashlight from her bag. “Bright light,” she said, holding Laris’ eyelid open and testing the reaction of the nictating membrane in one eye and then the other.

“Well?” Laris asked, when Beverly didn’t immediately respond. “Will I survive?”

There was some teasing there, but Beverly heard a catch in her voice beyond the forced humor.

“I’m still not happy with it,” Beverly said. “But there’s some slight improvement.”

She turned off the flashlight, rested it on the bed, and then moved her hand to brush Laris’ hair out the way. She paused a moment, and brushed her fingers against the woman’s cheek. The slight increase in the green tint to her skin may have been a rise in color from feeling unwell, or it may have been something else.

“I’m sorry,” Beverly said.

“For?” Laris asked.

“For disrupting your life,” Beverly said.

“You saved my life,” Laris said.

Beverly nodded.

“And, someday, I hope you’ll value that life as much as I do,” Beverly said. She stopped. She’d said the words before she’d even truly mentally committed to sharing them aloud. They were out, now, and she was too old for regrets over things of this nature. She continued. “I—activated the security system of the Château. Nobody in or out. I changed the security codes, as well. They were—quite Romulan.”

“I wonder why,” Laris said.

There was a hint of a smile on her lips, and Beverly mirrored it. She didn’t move her hand away from Laris’ face. She didn’t want to. She did brush her thumb over the soft skin of the woman’s cheek, however. Beverly felt her breath grow a touch shallower. She felt her pulse quicken.

“You don’t owe me any promises,” Beverly said.

“And yet—you’re going to ask for some?” Laris asked.

Beverly nodded.

“Please—don’t do anything that can’t be undone,” Beverly said. “And—don’t try to leave? Not in any form or fashion.” Laris simply stared at her for a moment. Beverly accepted that. “I’m not sorry that I reached out to Jean-Luc. I’m not sorry that he came, or that we were able to…to overcome some things that we needed to handle. I’m not sorry for another chance. Those don’t come often enough in life. I’m not sorry for having crossed paths with you, or for knowing you now. I am sorry, though, that I disrupted your life. That was never my intention. And I’m not sorry that I saved your life. I’m not sorry that I saved this baby’s life. But I am sorry of how I had to do it. I’m sorry of everything you’re going through now.”

“Can I ask you something?” Laris asked.

“You can ask me anything,” Beverly said.

“Why do you care? What I do or…if I leave?” She asked. She continued speaking before Beverly could respond, and Beverly let her have the time and the space that she needed to say whatever she needed to say. “If I were to leave, you could have everything. You have the Château. You have your second chance with Jean-Luc…”

“Sixth chance is more like it,” Beverly interrupted, slightly amused.

“You have a baby,” Laris said. “Another chance to have a baby with him. To do it all, from the beginning, like you said earlier. You could have everything.”

Beverly considered her words. She nodded. She slipped her hand down and caught Laris’ hand in hers. She held it, gently, sandwiched between both of hers.

“What if I want all of that,” Beverly said, “but I also want more than that?”

Laris laughed and shook her head.

“What else could you want?” She asked.

“Something that I never imagined—not even for a moment—that I might want before,” Beverly said. “And yet, I keep finding that it crosses my mind and, every time it does, I think…I might want that even more than I thought I could the last time it crossed my mind.”

Laris seemed calm. Relaxed. Beverly eased her thumb around and found the woman’s pulse in her wrist. It was racing by human standards, but calm by Romulan standards. It was strong—not thready like it had been a few times before. Beverly smiled to herself and brushed her thumb over the spot.

“What do you think you might want that you don’t already have?” Laris asked.

“A trust bond requires three equal partners for truth and accountability,” Beverly said. “I can’t help but notice—there are three of us.”

Laris started slightly, clearly understanding Beverly immediately.

“You’re not a Romulan,” Laris said.

“You would have bonded with Jean-Luc, were it not for the lack of a third part to the trust bond,” Beverly said. “Would that third have had to have been a Romulan?”

“I suppose not,” Laris said, “since…most Romulans aren’t bonding with Terrans, traditionally.”

“Is there some rule about who has to propose a bond?” Beverly asked.

“Normally, it’s…very often something that’s chosen for us,” Laris said. “Benefitting the Empire in some way.”

“The Empire is virtually gone,” Beverly said. “What’s left is fragmented at best. Romulans, everywhere, are rewriting the rules of their societies. Here, in the Château Picard, are there rules, Laris, about who may propose a trust bond?”

“I suppose not,” Laris said. “But—why would you want to?”

Beverly smiled and shrugged her shoulders.

“I don’t know,” she said, “except—it just feels…right. It feels like the right time. The right place. There was something not quite right about everything. I was unsettled about so much, and this…feels right to me.”

“Are you sure that this isn’t some emotional reaction?” Laris asked. “A hormonal reaction to…everything?”

“No,” Beverly said. “I’m not sure. And I don’t expect an answer from you right away. I haven’t even spoken to Jean-Luc about it. I just…know that things didn’t feel right before. They haven’t felt right since the moment I learned about you.”

“And they feel right to you now?” Laris asked.

Beverly smiled. There wasn’t any challenge in the woman’s tone. She was asking a sincere question. Beverly nodded.

“They feel better,” she said. “Even if I feel a little…”

“What?” Laris pressed.

“Nervous?” Beverly offered. She laughed. “At my age, it’s not all that common that something—or someone—makes me nervous. Outside of something terrible, I mean.”

“Do I make you nervous?” Laris asked.

“You do,” Beverly confirmed.

“Isn’t that a bad thing?” Laris asked.

“It feels kind of nice, actually,” Beverly confessed. “So—what do you say?”

“Am I to make the decision for everyone involved?” Laris asked.

“No,” Beverly said. “I’m only asking if you think that we should discuss it with Jean-Luc. If you weren’t comfortable with it, there would be no need to bring it up.”

“So—in a way, you are saying that I am to make the decision for everyone,” Laris said. “Because if I were to say no…”

“Maybe that’s the way every decision ought to be handled in this,” Beverly said. “If we’re creating a trust bond, maybe that’s how we ought to make every decision. We can make our rules, right? The Empire certainly isn’t going to tell us otherwise and, if they tried, we wouldn’t listen. So—maybe if everyone isn’t in agreement, that means we have to think of something else, no matter the situation.”

“That’s the general idea of it,” Laris said. “Although, often there’s the whole majority situation with certain decisions. That and what’s good for the Empire, of course.”

“In the Château Picard, it’s what’s good for every member of the family,” Beverly said.

She noticed that the green tint darkened across the bridge of Laris’ nose and her cheeks. Beverly felt an unexpected warmth. She squeezed the hand that she’d been absentmindedly holding.

“What?” Beverly pressed.

“Family,” Laris mused. “I like the sound of that.”

Beverly smiled and nodded.

“I do, too,” she said. “Maybe—we just start there. We’ll work on the rest.”

Chapter Text

AN: This one took me a bit. Admittedly, it isn’t 100% what I wanted it to be, but it’s pretty close. I wanted to bring them together in the most realistic way that I could for this scenario, while also exploring certain aspects of their personalities.

At any rate, I hope that you enjoy! If you do, please do let me know! If you don’t, then I hope that you find something that you do enjoy in the wide world of fanfiction!

111

“I loved Laris,” Jean-Luc said, sounding a little bit like he was confessing to a murder.

“Loved, Jean-Luc, or love?” Beverly asked. He looked at her. She could practically read his mind, thanks to his expression. Jean-Luc hadn’t always been an easy-tell. In fact, she was pretty sure that he’d been the exact opposite of that for most of his life. That was one of the things that had made him so successful as a captain.

Of course, the history behind them gave Beverly an unfair advantage, at least at this point in their lives.

She gave him the best reassuring smile that she could. She laughed quietly, genuinely feeling amusement in her chest.

“It’s OK, Jean-Luc,” Beverly said. “You loved her. I wasn’t there. You had no reason to believe that I would ever be a part of your life again. To be honest? Jean-Luc—I never intended to be a part of your life again. I wasn’t there, and you loved Laris. You love her still, because that’s the way that love—if it’s real love—works.”

“This may seem impossible to believe, but I have always had the very best of intentions,” Jean-Luc said.

Beverly smiled at him.

“I believe you. I do.” She laughed to herself. “You are infuriating at times, Jean-Luc. You have…well…it’s neither here nor there, now. It doesn’t matter. The past—it doesn’t matter. I do believe, Jean-Luc, that you have always had the best of intentions.”

“And the poorest follow through,” he offered. There was a hint of amusement in his tone. He was amused, perhaps, by her behavior.

It was clear that Jean-Luc expected this conversation to go very differently. He probably had good reason for that. How many times, in the past, had they had these important conversations and allowed one, or both, of them to derail their relationship entirely? She’d found him awake from his temporary nap, reading the book again that he’d dozed off reading before, and she’d told him that they needed to talk, following it up with questions about his relationship with Laris and the feelings that he had for her.

There wasn’t any wonder that he had been prepared for everything except the general lightness that she could feel inside her, as well as in the air around them.

Beverly couldn’t say that she would have expected it, either, but she was accepting it.

“We could argue about ancient history forever,” Beverly said. “In fact, it feels like that’s what we’ve been doing. After everything—the Borg, Jack…we said we were going to let it go. We said we were going to focus on each moment as it comes to us. The past is done. We have no way of knowing what the future holds.”

“Only I complicated matters a great deal,” Jean-Luc said, “because I failed to mention that there remained a few things in my past that I hadn’t exactly handled entirely.”

“And here they are,” Beverly said. “The consequences of your actions.”

She laughed, again, and dropped a hand to her belly. The slightest show of her half-Romulan companion felt somehow larger and more obvious at the moment. Of course, she could attribute that to the hour and a billion other biological causes for her to appear a little more bloated than before, but she didn’t feel like putting much thought into it, honestly.

“We may not know everything the future holds, Jean-Luc, but I can tell you at least one thing that’s very likely to come to pass.” She smiled at him. “You saw the scan. The heartbeat is strong.”

“The baby hardly looks like anything,” Jean-Luc admitted.

“It’s still very small,” Beverly said. “And given that Romulan gestation is typically a year, it’s got a long way to go and a lot of forming and growing to do. There’s no denying that it’s there, though, and the heartbeat was really quite impressive.”

“So—then—it’s healthy,” Jean-Luc said, “and we’re certain that…well…”

“We’re not certain of anything,” Beverly said. “Not really.” She drew in a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh. “What I know is that Starfleet has already taken me back on as a researcher—and they’ll grant me more, if that’s what I want. I know they are very, very interested in every aspect of this pregnancy. I know that the baby’s heartbeat is strong, and it seems to be well-developed for its gestational age. Laris took very good care of it, while she could. I know that it’s fully attached, and that we are sharing a blood supply. I know that my vitals are good, though my body is still adjusting to some of the logistics of being this pregnant, this quickly, with a baby whose blood composition was originally different than my own. I may not know how the pregnancy will progress and, in fact, I have a great deal of questions about what might happen, but I believe that it will go well. I believe that—in however many months it may be—there will be a baby. And it will be your child, Jean-Luc, and it will be Laris’ child. And, in some way, my body already feels that it will be my child, even though I’m little more than an accidental surrogate.”

“You’re much more than that,” Jean-Luc said.

“Because you want me to be?” Beverly asked. “Step away from the emotional side of it, Jean-Luc, and you’ll understand that I truly have no more connection to this child than a surrogate.” He frowned at her. She smiled at him. “It’s easy to get lost in the fantasy for a moment, isn’t it? I don’t blame you. It’s easy for me to get lost in it, too. After everything with Jack…and finding each other? It’s easy to want this as an opportunity for us to do this again. Together. But this is not my baby, Jean-Luc.”

She walked over and sat down on the bed beside him. Immediately, he reached a hand over and patted her leg affectionately. She might have imagined something different, but she found that the pressure of his hand on her knee was perfect for the moment. She smiled at him and rested her hand over his. He offered her a smile, too. It was tight-lipped and gave away the fact that he was still struggling to process everything.

They would all need time.

“I don’t like saying it,” Beverly said, “but Laris is depressed. Her body is confused. I’ve been out of the loop for a while. I’m going to do some research tonight—or tomorrow morning, since I’m feeling…remarkably…tired. I know there are several things that can help her, but I want to choose the right thing for her. Her body is responding to the loss of the pregnancy.”

“It’s a biological depression,” Jean-Luc said, his words coming out somewhat as a question.

“Her body is responding to the loss of the pregnancy,” Beverly repeated, before continuing, “and her heart is responding to the fear that—you and I will want that second chance at having a child together, and we’ll just…take this baby. I’ve told her it isn’t true, but I don’t think she believes me. I think some part of her believes that she’s lost her baby entirely. She believes that she’s lost everything.”

There was a silence between them that was uncomfortable. It wasn’t the space between them, Beverly recognized that was uncomfortable. Instead, the discomfort came from the difficulty of what they were discussing.

“I’m afraid that—all of my years of learning strategy and priding myself on thinking through the consequences of my actions and making good decisions…didn’t extend beyond the bridge of a starship, really,” Jean-Luc said. “I don’t know how to make this better, Beverly. I don’t know how to give everyone what they need, let alone everything they may want, without hurting someone else in the process.”

“Neither do I,” Beverly said. “At least—not exactly.”

“You have some idea?” Jean-Luc asked. He sounded a bit incredulous. Beverly didn’t fault him that. She smiled softly at him and nodded.

“You may think I’m mad, Jean-Luc,” she said.

“A little madness may be just what we need,” Jean-Luc said.

Beverly chewed her lip. She had rehearsed this, at least a little, but it hadn’t come out in a way that she thought was exactly “right.” Still, it needed to be said.

“You love me, Jean-Luc. Do you not?”

“You know that I do,” he said, taking her hand in his. He furrowed his brow at her, half-scolding her with an expression. She nodded, gently.

“And I love you,” she said. “You want us to do this life—whatever is left of it—together, do you not?”

“As I’ve told you before,” he said, nodding his head. “Is this about the fact that—I haven’t proposed marriage, yet?”

She laughed quietly.

“With everything else, I forgive the delay,” she teased. “I also believe that you still love Laris.” He stiffened. She felt his fingers tense. She knew it was true, but she also knew that he was terrified to admit it. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he also didn’t want to lie. “It’s OK,” Beverly assured him. “Truly. And—I think that—I could love her, too.”

“What?” Jean-Luc asked, furrowing his brow a bit more deeply than before.

“A Romulan trust bond requires three to be complete,” Beverly said. “Three is the number of honesty and truth. A trust bond is a marriage of three individuals, Jean-Luc. The Empire is gone. Romulans are free from their former societal rules and expectations. In every colony, they’re deciding what they want. They’re living how they want. What if—at the Château Picard—it was acceptable for there to be a trust bond between two humans and a Romulan?”

Jean-Luc took a moment to process what she was saying. Beverly let him have it. After all, if he wanted to do this, then it meant that they had a lifetime together. They could certainly spare a few moments for him to process everything when they were all so overwhelmed already.

“Beverly—are you asking me…?”

“To marry me?” Beverly asked with a laugh. She nodded. “To marry us, actually.”

“To marry you. To marry…”

“Laris and I,” Beverly said. “And I would marry you and Laris, and she would marry both of us. It would be a trust bond.”

“A Romulan trust bond,” Jean-Luc said.

“With only one Romulan, but I believe that to be enough,” Beverly said. She couldn’t help but smile at his expression. “I told you that you’d probably think I was mad. I can hardly believe that I’m saying it, but…the more I think about it, the more I can hardly imagine any other way to move forward.”

“We would all marry each other?” Jean-Luc asked, a musing quality to the question.

“And raise the baby together,” Beverly said. “And take care of the Château. Number One. Each other. Whatever other little ones might come along. We would be a family, Jean-Luc. The three of us, together…and Jack and this baby, of course.”

“What would Laris say?” Jean-Luc said.

“Romulans are known for being emotional,” Beverly said. “Secretive. But they’re practical, too, and honest—especially with members of their bond. No single one of us can make this decision. That’s part of our bond—if it should come to be. We have to all agree, or else we have to work together to come up with a solution to which we can all agree. I want to try this, Jean-Luc. She’s new to the idea, but Laris is willing to try it, too.”

“Then, it would seem that there’s a contradiction, here,” Jean-Luc said. “Because it would appear that I’m being left to be the one to decide.”

“No,” Beverly said. “You won’t be the one to decide if we form a bond. You’re only the one to decide if—this is an option that can work for us, or if we must find something else.”

“What about—jealousy?” Jean-Luc asked. “It’s bound to happen.”

“It’s a normal emotion,” Beverly said. “Just like any other emotion. It’s no more than sadness or happiness…or any other feeling. It’s only a problem if we don’t talk about it, and we don’t deal with it together. Otherwise, it’s just another feeling to be dealt with.”

“And you’re OK with this…this proposition?” Jean-Luc asked.

“It was my idea,” Beverly said. “I’m not going to say that we won’t have our challenges to work through, but…I think we can make it work. All of us. The more I think about it, the more I think it can work. The more…excited I feel by the prospect. What about you, Jean-Luc? What do you think?”

“Laris is a Romulan,” Jean-Luc said. “And I love her—as you’ve guessed. I have known her, and I’ve loved her, in many ways through the years. She can be…wonderful and very, very difficult.”

Beverly laughed at his warning.

“And so can I,” she said. “And so can you.” She shook her head. “None of us are without some concerns, and maybe that’s the best way that we can go into this. If we all believed that it would be easy and perfect—even if any one of us thought that—I might be worried that we wouldn’t be able to handle everything we might have to handle together. I’ll be honest; it makes me feel better that we’re all…realistic.”

“So—you truly want this?” Jean-Luc asked.

“I’ve said that I do,” Beverly said. “I want to try it. Laris wants it, too. All we’re waiting on is you, Jean-Luc. It’s a big commitment. Not just marriage and fatherhood. This is twice the commitment. Do you want to try this with us, or are we all going to put our heads together to figure out another way to make this…whatever it ends up being…work?”

Jean-Luc drew in a deep breath and looked around the room. He let the breath out with a laugh.

“You both like to—embrace—when you sleep,” Jean-Luc said.

Beverly smiled.

“I believe the preferred terms are…snuggle. Cuddle.”

“Whatever the case may be,” Jean-Luc ceded, “we’re going to need a bigger bed.”

Beverly felt an unexpected flutter in her stomach. She reached for Jean-Luc and he met her, wrapping his arms around her kissing her. She couldn’t control the surge of excitement she felt as she realized that they were going to begin this new adventure together—the likes of which they had never experienced before.

Chapter Text

AN: Here’s another piece to our story, as we move these idiots (said with the upmost affection, of course) forward. LOL

Trigger warning for mention of suicidal type thoughts. It’s not a long passage, or terribly graphic, but I want everyone to be aware.

I hope you enjoy! If you do, please do let me know. If you don’t, then I wish you all the luck in finding something that scratches your every literary itch.

111

Beverly had checked on Laris through the night, helping her to the bathroom twice, when she was up to relieve herself. She had decided not to discuss with Laris what Jean-Luc had said, neither confirming nor denying that she’d even spoken to him about the trust bond, since Laris hadn’t asked. She thought, perhaps, it was better to leave it until the morning, when she could speak to her without sleep clouding anything for either of them.

Beverly woke early, unable to sleep, and she spent the morning doing some research at the kitchen table. It felt good, honestly, to be back to dedicating her time and energy to solving problems. She hated that those problems were affecting her family—though she did feel a bit of a rush at the thought of her “family”—but she was pleased to have something to which she could really direct her brain power.

She greeted Jean-Luc with a kiss, when he rose and found her at work. She allowed herself the moment of bliss—because that’s what it had felt like—to close her eyes and let him hold her as they rocked in the kitchen, waiting on brewing coffee. It wasn’t the kind of dancing that would impress anyone, but they weren’t trying to impress anyone. She’d shared coffee with him, and she’d shared her research, and she’d teased him about his enormous hat as he’d set out on a walk for the village to get fresh baked goods and give her time to wake Laris and help her get ready for the morning.

Beverly slipped into Laris’ room when she decided it was time to rouse her for the morning.

Laris was sleeping soundly and, for a moment, Beverly simply stood and took her in. She was beautiful, really. The green tint to her skin was still quite a deeper color than it would be when she was healthier, but Beverly sincerely believed that they would see her health improving in the coming days. Beverly believed in science and the healing powers of medicine—like the hyposprays she’d replicated to dose Laris this morning—but she also knew the healing powers of having hope and happiness in one’s life.

It wasn’t lost on Beverly that Laris slept deeply. Romulans were said to be not trusting by nature. Beverly believed that might be more of a result of their society than their biology. Still, she didn’t miss the significance of the fact that she could stand in Laris’ presence while the Romulan woman slept on or, at the very least, played a convincing game of possum.

Beverly smiled when she realized that was exactly what was happening. Laris might have been sleeping when she’d entered the room, but now she was only pretending in order to throw Beverly off. Maybe she thought Beverly would leave.

Beverly eased forward. She stopped the regeneration unit. She pressed the release to be able to open it. She gathered her bag and began sorting through her supplies, laying out what she wanted on the bed.

She knew, instinctively, that Laris would be watching her when she turned her face back to her, but she still jumped slightly to meet to the steady, unwavering gaze of the Romulan—her soon-to-be wife.

“I’m glad you’re awake,” Beverly said.

“You knew that I was,” Laris said. She raised an eyebrow at Beverly, and Beverly smiled in response.

The differences between Romulans and Vulcans, all of which had come to pass since a time when they had been the same species, were not as great as Beverly knew the two species liked to believe.

“I’m going to scan you,” Beverly said, doing just what she said she would do.

“And shine that forsaken light directly into my eyes,” Laris said grimacing.

“I’m sorry,” Beverly said sincerely. “We can skip it this morning. OK? No light in your eyes. I promise. Besides—even from here, I can see that your nictating membrane is still mostly covering your eye.”

Laris visibly relaxed when she learned that she didn’t have to hold still for Beverly to shine the light in her eye, and the tricorder detected several minor shifts in Laris’ body that Beverly thought were worth sacrificing the one test.

“So?” Laris breathed out, when Beverly had scanned her thoroughly. “What’s the prognosis, Doctor Crusher?”

“Improving…”

“But not as much as you’d like,” Laris said, interrupting Beverly. She laughed quietly at Beverly’s expression. “Predictable. You say it at least two times a day.”

“I wouldn’t have to, if you’d improve,” Beverly teased back. She smiled at Laris’ expression. She brought the hyposprays out of her pocket. “I have been researching all morning, and I’ve found some things I’d like for us to try.”

“Do I have a choice?” Laris asked, moving around to help Beverly as Beverly removed the regeneration unit from the bed. She put it to the side, as she’d done the day before.

Beverly sighed and returned to sit on the edge of the bed. Laris watched her as she rubbed at her body. It was likely sore from wearing the regeneration unit.

“You’re tired.”

“I just woke up,” Laris said.

Beverly hummed and nodded.

“But you’re tired on a different level. You’re tired of—everything that led you here. The life you’ve led since practically the moment you were born. You’re tired of thinking that things are going to be good…that you’re going to rest, now, in a life that’s safe and pleasant, and finding out that isn’t the case. You’re tired of seeing what you want in life, just ahead, and having it snatched away.”

“Are you a psychiatrist, too?” Laris asked. Beverly heard her voice catch, slightly. She had struck a nerve, if nothing else.

Beverly smiled softly and shook her head.

“No,” she said. “I’m just—tired, too.”

For a moment, there was silence. They regarded each other, but there was no challenge. Beverly extended her hand toward Laris, and Laris didn’t pull away, though she did tense. Beverly touched her face and, finding that she wouldn’t pull away, she ran her fingers through her hair.

Laris closed her eyes, and Beverly felt her chest tighten.

“I will never hurt you. Not on purpose. Keep your eyes closed,” she said. Laris started to open her eyes in surprise, perhaps. “Please…” Beverly added. Laris relaxed.

Beverly moved toward her. She studied the woman’s face, this time making it a point to look at her with as little medical interest as possible. No matter what eyes she used, though, the extra green tint to Laris’ skin made her chest tighten.

“Please be well,” Beverly breathed out, as she brushed Laris’s face affectionately with her fingertips.

“What?” Laris asked.

Beverly smiled, realizing that her words had actually escaped and that, thankfully, they hadn’t been easy to understand.

“Keep your eyes closed,” Beverly said. She brushed her fingertips over Laris’ lips and the Romulan drew in a breath—easy to detect, given that her lungs weren’t fully healed and her inhalations had a certain ragged quality to them, still. “Let your breath out. Just breathe normally.”

A hint of a smile formed on Laris’ lips.

“Why?” She asked, her eyebrow rising enough to have asked the question without voice. Beverly smiled in response, even though Laris, who was obeying Beverly’s request to keep her eyes closed, couldn’t see her.

Beverly leaned toward her.

“So, you’ll know if…I take your breath away,” she offered.

Laris leaned toward her as Beverly moved forward to bring their lips together. The kiss was tentative and they were both nervous. It had been a long time since Beverly’s heart had thundered in her chest this way, imagining a first kiss—and, perhaps, all that might follow.

Beverly closed her eyes and sank into the kiss. It felt good. Everything felt magical, for just a moment, like the world stopped and nothing else mattered except this second shared between them.

“Softer,” Beverly said, her voice barely more than a whisper as she broke the first tense kiss. “Be soft.”

Laris drew in a deep breath. Beverly heard it, keeping her own eyes closed. Laris listened to her, and she met her for another kiss. This time, her lips were softer, and she felt more open to the kiss—welcoming of it. Beverly relaxed into the kiss and, for just a moment, she enjoyed testing the various sensations she felt as she varied their connection slightly with a variety of kisses.

She slipped her fingers behind Laris’ neck, and she kneaded the skin there before allowing her fingertips to enjoy the sensation of gently touching Laris’ hair.

She felt Laris return the gesture, her fingers tangling in Beverly’s hair and gently pulling at the strands. She was honoring Beverly’s request that she be soft and gentle, but something in Beverly could sense a fire burning beneath the surface of her soon-to-be wife. At the very least, there was a spark there, and it intrigued Beverly.

Her body responded entirely to the kiss, and she melted into Laris for just a moment, coming to embrace her and to be embraced, before she forced herself back to the surface—back to reality—and pulled out of the kiss and embrace entirely.

Laris was breathing a bit hard. Beverly felt heat rise to her cheeks as she realized that she, too, was breathing a little harder than she’d expected.

“And that?” Laris questioned, smirking slightly.

Beverly’s cheeks burned hot, but she welcomed the sensation.

“A taste of what’s to come,” Beverly offered. “That is—if you still want to be part of this trust bond.”

Laris laughed quietly.

“And Jean-Luc?” She asked.

Beverly nodded her head gently. Laris’ eyes went wide for a second. She smiled, but something in her expression said that she didn’t fully trust Beverly just yet. She half-expected Beverly to say she was teasing.

“We’re to be joined,” Beverly said. “All of us. If that’s what you want. Call it a trust bond. Call it marriage. We’ll file the legal paperwork with the Federation, and we’ll handle the service however you want.”

“I’m to make the decisions for all of us?” Laris asked.

“No,” Beverly said. “We’ll all have a voice. But—we’d like to hear yours.”

“When?” Laris asked.

Beverly smiled.

“Not until you’re better,” Beverly said. She shook her head. “In fact—none of this. No more of it. Not until you’re better.”

Laris shifted.

Beverly could practically smell the pheromones from Laris. She had studied Romulans enough to know that they were a passionate species in nearly ever manner. Now, it seemed, she would be experiencing that firsthand.

“You’re saying—there’s nothing for any of us until I’m completely healed?”

Beverly hummed noncommittally.

“Jean-Luc and I are fine,” she said. “But I don’t want to risk things for you until you’re healed.” She smiled at her and picked up the hyposprays that she’d abandoned on the bed. “I do have some things I’d like to try, though, as I was saying.”

Laris laughed in her throat. It rumbled almost like a growl. She relaxed visibly.

“What do you have?” She asked.

“There is always an emotional aspect to healing,” Beverly said. “I know that some doctors are reluctant to believe it, but I’ve seen it firsthand. If someone doesn’t want to improve, they won’t. You haven’t wanted to improve—not entirely. I believe, though I don’t want to, that you might have—slipped away, if I’d’ve allowed it.”

Something flashed in Laris’ eyes and Beverly shook her head.

“Don’t respond. I don’t want you to, and it doesn’t matter. As soon as I’m sure that you’re well enough to handle the—the consummation following our bonding, we’ll be joined legally and emotionally. All three of us. We’ll deal with everything as it comes, but we’ll focus on what’s happening here, in our home. We’ll raise our family together. Your mood has been affected, I believe, by your hormones. There was an abrupt and violent end to your pregnancy. You are mourning, and you would be, even if you wanted not to be. You can’t help it. Your body is overwhelmed. This will help regulate your hormones and, hopefully, you’ll start to see things a little less—dramatically.”

“Dramatically?” Laris said.

There was definite challenge in the word. It practically crackled in the air. Beverly gave her a reassuring smile.

“That is not a criticism,” she said. “It’s probably poor word choice. It’s all I have when I haven’t slept as much as I would like. Please take this? For me?”

She offered it out. Laris considered the hypospray and moved her own hair. She leaned toward Beverly, baring her neck. Beverly felt a rush of relief that she was willing to participate in a treatment plan that, hopefully, would help her a great deal. Beverly emptied the contents of the hypospray into Laris’ neck.

“Do you feel OK?” Beverly asked, when Laris made a face.

“There is an absolutely terrible taste in my mouth,” Laris said. “Metallic. It’s…disgusting.”

Beverly offered her the water glass from the bedside table.

“It’s an unfortunate side-effect, but everything said it’s short-lived and fades quickly after each dose. Can you tolerate it for a while?”

“It will make me feel…less like I wish you’d left me to whatever explosion might have ended this and put me out of my misery?”

Beverly laughed quietly at Laris’ tone and intonation. She was serious, to some degree, and her pain made Beverly’s chest tighten, but she was also able to tease a little. That was a good sign.

“It will help you,” Beverly said. “Focusing a little on the fact that I need you to help me plan our bonding will help you, too. And—so would focusing a little on…helping me feel a bit better about the fact that I am very unexpectedly pregnant, and I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed about it. Jean-Luc is a man, and he means well, but…I’ve got my own feelings to deal with in all this too, you know. I could…truly use your support.”

The tears that welled up in Laris’ eyes were very obvious. She blinked and a couple spilled over. Beverly wiped them away before Laris even could.

“I want to,” Laris said. “I swear it. If you’ll let me…I’d love to help you.”

“That’s good enough,” Beverly said. “We’ll figure it out. Besides—a cooperative Romulan wife is bound to mean a peaceful household.”

Laris laughed at her teasing.

“And that hypospray?” She asked.

“It’s going to help your body to heal. The regeneration unit is mending the tissues, but it’s doing so a little more slowly than I would like. Your heart still has a tear in it that needs to finish healing. I’m hoping that it’s going to do so without requiring more direct methods. Your lungs have a small hole, still. Your uterus is healing well—that’s simply a secondary effect of the regeneration unit. It wasn’t my focus. Still, this will help move things along. I did a little research, and I don’t think I’ve been doing everything I could to help you. Romulan tissue is so dense…”

Beverly stopped talking. She wasn’t expecting the soft, affectionate touch of Laris’ fingers as the woman leaned forward and touched her face. Laris smiled at her and moved her hand down to knead her shoulder muscles affectionately.

“And if I absolve you of…everything?” Laris asked. “Every mistake—imagined or otherwise?”

Beverly felt her throat tighten slightly at the words and Laris’ tone.

“This will help you heal more quickly and more effectively,” Beverly said.

“Well, then,” Laris breathed out. She stopped and smiled. “The sooner I take it, the sooner I can…get to my life? Our life?”

“We’re only waiting on you,” Beverly offered.

Laris’ expression changed slightly and Beverly asked for an explanation with her own expression.

“I really do hate to be alone,” Laris said. “And I feel so…”

She stopped.

“Maybe not everything has to be restricted until you’re completely healed,” Beverly offered. “After all, some things can help healing as well.”

“Such as?” Laris asked, allowing Beverly to give her the hypospray. She didn’t react in any way. Beverly didn’t tell her that fatigue was the most common side effect of this one. She’d figure it out soon enough, but likely attribute it to healing in general.

“We’ll talk about it after a good breakfast,” Beverly said. “My anti-nausea medication is working. The baby is starving. Jean-Luc is surely back by now. And it can only do you good to eat well. Do you think you can—finally—do that for me?”

Laris smiled at her, a light laugh catching in her throat.

“As a matter of fact,” she said, “I am feeling ravenous.”

“Let’s get you dressed, then, and we can start talking about how we want our wedding…or bonding…or union…or whatever the case may be, to look.”

Chapter Text

AN: Here we are, another piece!

I hope you enjoy! If you do, please do let me know!

111

“Both of you are going to have to stop acting like you’ve just met, or I’m going to…well…honestly? What I’m going to do is entirely unpredictable. Even for me. But it’s got a very good chance of either being that I burst into tears, which I don’t want to do, or…I spend the rest of the day so angry at both of you that I’ll hardly be able to stand it, which I also don’t want.”

There had been some teasing to Beverly’s tone, surely, but there had been something else—an unmistakable edge of truth.

She was tired. Jean-Luc knew that she was. She had to be exhausted. She had slept in snatches of a few hours here and there, but she wasn’t sleeping nearly enough. She had a lot on her mind. She had the same drive that she’d always had. She wanted to take care of everyone—even if that meant sacrificing herself in the process.

And, though Jean-Luc was practically a stranger to the condition, he’d heard enough from Beverly to know that the baby she was carrying would have its own effects on her body—one of which, after all, was to make her a great deal more tired than she would be without its presence.

Jean-Luc knew that she had internalized a great deal about this situation. She took blame for things that, really, weren’t anyone’s fault. She took it personally if she couldn’t solve a problem or heal an individual. She was carrying a great weight on her shoulders.

And it was beginning to show, at least around the proverbial edges.

“I’m sorry, Beverly,” Jean-Luc offered, immediately. “What—would you have us do, exactly?”

Beverly and Laris had only just joined Jean-Luc. He’d set the table with baked goods and a variety of jams. He’d brought over coffee and a pot of tea, since he didn’t want to run the risk of disappointing anyone. He’d replicated the rest of breakfast, even though he preferred to have it fresh and prepared from local ingredients, as soon as he’d heard the women coming, so that it might be as hot as possible—eggs, prepared a number of ways, and ham, since Beverly had mentioned being particularly drawn to the smell of meat since taking on the task of carrying the child.

Laris had immediately gone to bring those dishes, without Jean-Luc asking or even realizing that was her intention, to the table.

Beverly had announced that it was all settled. Everyone was in agreement—which was the very first rule of their trust bond, since they were allowed to decide the way that this would work for them—and the three of them would be joined in marriage as soon as Beverly deemed Laris well enough for such an event to take place.

And, almost immediately, she’d grown visibly—and audibly—frustrated with both Laris and Jean-Luc.

Laris had only just placed the dishes on the table, and Jean-Luc had been somewhat hovering near the chair that he meant to offer Beverly.

“You should at least hug or—or better, you should kiss!” Beverly said. “What I want is to stop feeling like I’m the elephant in the room. Or—maybe to stop feeling like I’m what makes you feel like your relationship is the elephant in the room. I know that you love each other. I’m carrying the baby that you two made. And, believe me, I understand where babies come from, Jean-Luc. We’re marrying each other—forever. All of us.” She sighed and pressed her fingers to her temples. “I’m sorry. I have a headache…and I’m just not myself right this moment.”

“Come now,” Laris said, walking over to Beverly. She led her to the chair that Jean-Luc pulled out for her. Jean-Luc slid it forward as Laris helped her to sit.

Beverly laughed and shook her head before resting an elbow on the table and resting her head on her hand.

“We should both be taking care of you,” Beverly said, speaking clearly to Laris.

Laris smiled at her.

“I’m stronger than you think,” she said. “It takes more than a few holes in some vital organs to stop a former member of the Tal Shiar.”

Jean-Luc laughed at Laris’ teasing and Beverly’s expression. Beverly laughed, too.

“Here,” Jean-Luc said, beginning to heap Beverly’s plate with everything that he imagined she might like. “You probably have a headache because you’re lacking proper rest and nutrition.”

“She’s pregnant,” Laris said. “The very least you could have been doing was seeing to it that she was eating and sleeping properly. You knew I certainly wasn’t up to doing it.”

“I don’t know if you’re aware of this, Laris, but I’ve had a great deal on my mind. Beyond that, Beverly will be the first to tell you that I’m not her commanding officer any longer. Without that advantage, I’m afraid that I’m no more able to make her do something than I am to make you do something.”

“I didn’t mean you ought to hold her down and force it down her throat,” Laris said.

“Stop!” Beverly said loudly and sharply.

They did, in fact, both stop.

“I wanted you to show me that you’re happy that we’re marrying each other, not that you’ve already been married for years,” Beverly said. She laughed quietly, when she’d finished and had a moment to reflect on her own words. “Just…reassure me. Are you both happy? I’m happy, but I need…I just need to be certain that everyone is happy.”

Laris smiled at her.

Jean-Luc felt something catch in his chest. He hadn’t expected the sensation.

He had worried about jealousy. It was bound to be a thing that happened from time to time in a marriage of three. He’d worried about how they would handle it, and he’d worried that they would always worry, at least a little, about if their actions might cause it. He had worried that he, at the very least, might be guilty of holding back, so as to not make a mistake and hurt someone he loved.

Jean-Luc had worried that he would, inadvertently, hurt both of the women he loved by simply trying—and failing—not to hurt either of them.

He had forgotten that, if this were to work the way they intended for it to work, those two women would come to love each other, as well.

This was new to them—uncharted waters for all three of them because Laris, who had been bonded before, had only been bonded to other Romulans. They were going to have to learn what worked best for all of them.

But, perhaps, finding a way to let go of some of their worries and concerns was the best start. And, for that, it seemed, they were all going to have to rely on each other for support and reassurance.

In that moment, in Laris’ smile and in the affection that Jean-Luc saw in her eyes, he felt like they were going to figure this out. They were going to make it work.

Laris affectionately caught Beverly’s face and held it.

“Will it make you feel better if I kiss the old fool before breakfast?” Laris asked. “Or do you require some other demonstration of our happiness and affection?”

Beverly laughed at her.

“I don’t want to feel like I’m making voyeuristic demands,” Beverly said.

Jean-Luc could tell she was teasing, but a bit more color came to her face, as well.

Laris’ smile only grew in response. She straightened up and backed away from Beverly slightly. Jean-Luc made eye contact with her and his chest tightened. He thought that Beverly, perhaps, had not been entirely irrational with her thoughts. He hadn’t really looked Laris in the eye since all this began. He hadn’t touched her much beyond holding her hand a few times when he’d been almost certain that she wouldn’t make it and he’d been, honestly, somewhat desperate to have just a moment more to remind himself that she wasn’t truly gone from the world—from his world.

He knew that Beverly was right. There were elephants practically dancing in every corner of this proverbial room.

Jean-Luc, for his part, had been torn from the moment that he’d seen the distress call from Beverly. At no point had he felt any less conflicted. Now, he was being asked to put the weight of all that down and focus his attention on helping to create a home that was happy for all of them.

And, according to Beverly, his efforts should begin with a kiss.

Laris held her hands out to welcome him into her arms. She offered him a smile—he knew that smile well. It was the smile she gave him when she put teasing aside, at least for a moment or two, and invited tenderness. Even as Jean-Luc’s arms reached out for her, his heart followed suit.

“I missed you,” he confessed, as she pressed her body against his and wrapped her arms around him. He felt his face grow warm. He felt his stomach clench with warning. He made a conscious effort not to look at Beverly to see if she approved or—what he feared most—to see if she looked hurt or jealous.

Jean-Luc’s heart drummed in his chest over the anxiety that he might somehow fail in what suddenly felt like truly the greatest endeavor of his life—his family. He had always feared that, if he dared to attempt to build a family, he would fail somehow. Now, he had to face that fear, or else he would surely fail.

Beverly had asked for a kiss, and he ached for the very kiss that she’d requested to see.

“I missed you, too,” Laris offered. She drew in a breath and raised her eyebrows. “We won’t talk about—whether or not you intended to come back.”

Jean-Luc caught a hint of teasing to her tone. There was truth there, of course, but the fact of the matter was that there was a great deal that they would all have to overcome—and put behind them—as they continued to build this life together.

“We won’t talk about the fact that—you never intended to tell me that there was to be a baby, if I were delayed in making it to Chaltok IV.”

“Delayed?” Laris asked.

“Breakfast is getting cold,” Jean-Luc said. “And I believe it’s imperative that Beverly eat soon. She looks a little pale, and I wouldn’t want her to wait too long.”

Laris looked around him at Beverly. She pursed her lips at Jean-Luc and made a face.

“Pale—indeed. I’m afraid that I’ll never be accustomed to the coloring of Terrans. Come here, Jean-Luc…I don’t want the baby to wait too long for its breakfast.”

She laughed at her own words, and Jean-Luc leaned toward her, stealing her laughter with a kiss. It took her a moment to settle into the kiss, but as she relaxed, so did he.

The time that had passed disappeared. The worry and the anxiety that had been practically eating a hole in Jean-Luc’s stomach seemed to settle and grow quiet. He closed his eyes, tightened his hold on her, and tasted her lips—thankful that she hadn’t died any of the times that he’d been certain that someone, at any moment, would tell him that she was gone.

After a moment, Jean-Luc tensed slightly at the surprise of an unexpected touch. He relaxed, as soon as his body recognized that it was Beverly. She’d found her feet, and she hugged against him.

He broke the kiss with Laris. He glanced to see Beverly’s hands holding Laris’ arms. Laris looked down to see them, too, and she smiled. Her skin had a darker green tint to it than was normal for her—a sign that she was still not even as well as she pretended to be—but a shade of green that was darker, still, spilled across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose at the sight of Beverly holding her arms as she hugged Jean-Luc.

Jean-Luc pulled out of the embrace enough to change positions, and he pulled Beverly in, making them all as able to reach each other, equally, as was possible.

Laris leaned her head against Beverly.

“There now,” she said. “That’s better.”

“I’m not sure of the most effective way for us to all embrace at once,” Jean-Luc admitted.

“I think we’re doing fine,” Laris offered.

“And we’ll figure it out,” Beverly said. “We’ll figure out what works for us. That’s all that matters.”

“Though I hate to interrupt,” Jean-Luc said, “if you’re satisfied enough for now, I think it’s important that we have some breakfast. I wasn’t joking entirely. I do believe that you need to eat.”

“I won’t argue with that,” Beverly said, breaking free from the embrace and moving toward her chair. “And Laris promised me that this time she wasn’t going to pick at her food like a fussy toddler.” She gave Laris a pointed look.

“The sooner I’m healed, you say, the sooner we’re bonded,” Laris said. “And if tea and croissants hold the secret to health, then…sláinte.”

“After breakfast,” Beverly said, “we can start to plan the ceremony. Do you have any requests, Jean-Luc?”

“That sounds entirely like something I’ll gladly leave to the two of you,” Jean-Luc said. “There are very few surprises and novelties left in life, at my age. It would appear, though, that perhaps I have more than I thought ahead of me. I’ll let the ceremony be one of those. You tell me your expectations, and I’ll be pleased with anything that makes the two of you happy. That is, after all, my only true concern—that you both be happy.”

“And you?” Beverly asked.

“I’m already quite happy, I assure you,” Jean-Luc said. “And if both of you are happy, then I have no chance of being anything less.”