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and on the eyes, black sleep of night
She sits up slowly, taking care not to wake the woman sleeping next to her. Beverly should be asleep, it's far enough past late that there's grey on the horizon.
Kathryn shifts, rolling in her sleep with a soft little sigh. Her hand slips gently across the sheet, close enough that it's in Beverly's lap by the time it stops.
Beverly strokes the back of her fingers, lightly enough not to wake her. Kathryn's eyes remain closed, her breathing slow and gentle. Her hair is spread out across the pillow, wavy from sleep and the same colour as autumn leaves in Indiana: the ones she keeps talking about.
Beverly will have them tomorrow to compare Kathryn's hair to, along with her first glimpse of the house where Kathryn grew up. She keeps imagining a quiet little farmhouse, something Nana would have liked. Her grandmother would have adored Kathryn, and the fact that she had a family of traditionalists: people who understand that the universe isn't all warp drive and replicators; data PADDs and communiques from the other side of the quadrant.
It's one day off, but it feels like she'll be missing a week. She'll have to spend half of the weekend just making up all the paperwork for the incoming class of medical students. It'll be worth it, she reminds herself, stroking a loose lock of hair from Kathryn's cheek.
Her lover stirs, and the hand in Beverly's lap twitches. Slipping her own into Kathryn's palm stills her fingers and Beverly wonders what dreams are behind her eyelids.
She can't really call herself nervous. Kathryn's mother understands Starfleet and no part of decorated doctor and Head of Starfleet Medical will make her difficult to accept. Doctor Janeway, PhD not MD, already knows all about her. Meeting her is a pleasant formality, and Kathryn's sister promised they'd get along famously.
Still, Beverly can't sleep and thinking of parents makes her think of Jack, and how easily he confessed that he'd grown up in foster care after both of his parents died in one of the terraforming accidents that still threaten the outlying colonies. Having no one to impress was always something he insisted made him an excellent choice of husband.
When he died, she had no one to bury him with.
Her eyes sting, and Beverly rubs them with the back of her hand. It's been some time since she thought of Jack, and visiting his body in the morgue. Things are different now, and an admiral isn't a lieutenant commander. Kathryn won't be out in space often, and Beverly will be able to count on her being home most nights in a way she and Jack couldn't have dreamed.
Not that routine means safety, or that she can let down her guard. One moment, one slip, and she'll be standing over Kathryn's still form in the morgue.
Just like her nightmares.
Hating her subconscious won't make her feel any better, but it banishes the grief as Beverly turns her eyes back to the yellow-gray light touching the kitchen window. It's still black over the ocean, and black when she closes her eyes.
Kathryn's fingers are warm and real inside her own, and when she finally falls back asleep, none of this will matter. Tonight, now, this moment of doubt, will pass and be forgotten.
Funnily enough, she thinks they'd get along. Jack had the quirky kind of humour that would have made Kathryn want to throw things across the room at him, but she would smile while she did it. They're nothing alike, except for the way Beverly feels. She's the connection and the giddy kind of love in the pit of her stomach reminds her of a more innocent time.
Beverly thought she'd never come down from that kind of happiness when she married Jack. When he died, she can't even remember the sensation of falling, only that the light was gone and everything but Wesley was cold.
Her shoulders are cold now where the sheet has slipped down; Beverly forces herself back into the blankets and the warmth of the bed. Staring up at the ceiling and the skylights above her, Beverly has to smile when Kathryn rolls into her, curling around her as if she's been missed.
She wraps her arm around her shoulders, relishing the warmth both on her skin and in her heart. She's spent longer without Jack than she ever knew him. It's all right to let him go. She turns her head, getting a better look at Kathryn while she sleeps.
She never intended to be in love. She had her work and Wesley, when he decides to visit her corporeal reality.
Beverly was content, and that was safe.
This is so far beyond safe that she's not even sure she's in the same space-time as security. Love is more dangerous than Terrelian plague and she'd have the good sense to stay away from that.
Still, when Kathryn's head nestles into her chest, and she can feel her breathing, none of the fear matters. Of course Kathryn's mother will love her. Beverly has a suspicion that she'll like Gretchen Janeway. Kathryn's rarely wrong about anything, and the whole evening has the kind of promise that aches for being so hopeful. She still misses her grandmother, and having a mother figure, even a mother-in-law, has a deep appeal.
"You think too loud."
Kathryn's chastising murmur is too sleepy to be intimidating.
"Your mother might not like me."
Kathryn snorts and lifts her hand enough to weakly tap Beverly's cheek.
"Try again."
Her eyes are still closed and Beverly kisses her forehead before she answers.
"I don't want to lose you."
The light in the kitchen grows steadily brighter and Kathryn's fallen back asleep. Beverly's halfway there herself when Kathryn's lips press warm against her cheek.
"I can't promise..."
She breaks off and Beverly tightens the arm around her waist. Kathryn's had enough of her own loss that she understands emptiness all too well.
"I can promise I love you."
Beverly chuckles and pulls her closer. Fear evaporates, like fog in full sun.
"And your mother?"
Kathryn giggles and settles back into her arms.
"You're the head of Starfleet Medical. She'll give you a hard time for being with me."
"No..."
Neither of them wakes again until the sun is up and glinting pale off the ocean. Beverly performs their morning ritual of replicating coffee and dragging the pot into bed. Kathryn sets it on the beside table, drinking half her cup before she crawls into Beverly's lap and kisses her. She tastes of fresh coffee, and the more time they spend together, the more Beverly associates that with making love.
Before Kathryn has her out of the sheets, Beverly stops, catching her hand in her own.
"I love you."
"Oh really?"
Kathryn's eyes flash wickedly.
"Hopelessly."
Kathryn kisses her again, winking when she pulls away.
"That's the way I like it."