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“I’m pregnant,” Beverly says and watches as Jean-Luc’s face freezes in an expression that would be comical were it a different situation.
She’s known Jean-Luc for years and could count on one hand, with fingers to spare, the number of times he’s ever been truly speechless. This is apparently one of those times, and it’s one of the times she needs him to speak the most. She allows him a moment, maybe two, and then she’s fidgeting. She had come into his ready room with the PADD, and for a time it had kept her occupied, but she handed it to him and now her hands are empty.
“Jean-Luc,” she says carefully, when he’s continued to stay silent. “I intend to keep it.”
He nods, just once, and she gets the sense he’s heard her but not processed it yet.
With a sigh, she stands up, needing something to do. Something to occupy her, and so she heads over to his replicator and helps herself to a cup of tea. He still hasn’t said anything by the time the cup has materialized, so she takes a sip, walking back toward him and his desk.
“I know this isn’t something we’d talked about—” At least, not something they’d talked about since they had gotten together. She knew his feelings about children, about a family, in the past.
She’s not foolish enough to believe that might have changed just because they’re together.
She swallows around the sudden lump in her throat and continues, “I’ll accept whatever decision — whatever place you want to have—”
“Beverly,” he says suddenly, the first word he’s spoken since she made her announcement. “Are you… ending our relationship?”
She turns these words over in her head, her face scrunching in confusion. “No,” she says, and it comes out more annoyed than she intends. How dare he blame her when it’s him? “In the past, you’ve made it quite clear how you feel about children.”
“In the past,” he repeats, setting the PADD aside and taking her hands. “Back when I was a younger man with my eyes set only on the captain’s chair. Back when I couldn’t picture myself having a family with anyone but—”
He cuts himself off suddenly, and she frowns, trying to follow the thought but he’s speaking again.
“We might not have talked about it, or planned this, but I… I can’t imagine having a child with anyone—”
Worf’s voice interrupts. “Captain, Starfleet Command is reaching out to discuss the logistics of the Bajoran reconstruction.”
Beverly closes her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath.
“Damn,” Jean-Luc mutters, before tapping his combadge. “Patch it through, Mr. Worf.” To Beverly, he says, “I’m sorry, I’ve got to—”
“I know,” she says, holding up a hand to forestall any explanations. “Later.”
She turns quickly on her heel, so that he can’t see the rush of emotion she’s fighting back.
Later turns out to mean all day, turns out to mean she’s irritable and distracted all throughout her shift in sickbay. Even Alyssa avoids her. The isolation only makes it worse, leaves her to her thoughts, and she knows she’s spiraling but she can’t stop it.
It’s the pregnancy, she knows. The hormones.
The anxiety is normal, if exacerbated by the limbo in which she finds her relationship with Jean-Luc.
She loves him; she knows she does. Sometimes so much it scares her, because she knows what happens when she loves like this. She is fairly secure in his feelings for her, as well, knowing him as intimately as she does.
But a baby changes everything.
A baby.
Before she and Jack had gotten married, they had of course discussed having children. They both wanted children, preferably more than one, though their careers would make that difficult. It’s why they had Wesley as soon as possible, with the intention of starting early and then having a second child when things had settled and — well.
Afterwards, it didn’t seem so important. She had Wes, and raising him was a handful on top of her chosen career, and without a romantic partner, she put the thought of more children aside. Once she and Jean-Luc became serious, she didn’t reconsider because she knew how he felt about children and she accepted long ago that Wes would be her only child.
Now, everything has been turned on its head.
There’s some sort of irony that it’s because she, a doctor, failed to adequately monitor either of their contraceptive implants. A stupid mistake, something she never should have missed, and now she has no idea what to expect.
She doesn’t want to end her relationship with Jean-Luc; she doesn’t even want to raise this child by herself, like she raised Wesley.
She had considered the alternatives when she found out, and discarded them just as quickly. She loves being a mother and this could be her last chance to raise another child, so. She’d rather take it, and love this baby enough for her and for Jean-Luc, whether he wants to be a part of the baby’s life or not.
(It feels weak to admit that she wants him in their baby’s life. Though she absolutely could do this alone, she wants to experience the ups and downs of pregnancy with him, raising their child with him.
He might not want a child, but Beverly thinks if he did, he’d be amazing as a father.)
“Doctor Crusher?”
Beverly looks up, surprised to see Selar standing in her doorway. “Doctor Selar,” she says, setting aside the PADD she has clung to since she ran the test. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you come in. Is something the matter?”
“No,” Selar says, her tone unemotional as usual. “Your shift ended twenty minutes ago, but I saw you were still here. Is there something you’re working on with which I could assist?”
“Oh.” She looks down at the PADD, knowing that at some point, she’ll have to tell the staff. Her staff, and the senior staff, for that matter. She feels a bit queasy at the thought, and she’s not sure if that’s the pregnancy or the anxiety or both.
Selar is still staring at her, her brow slightly furrowed. On anyone else, it might have been confusion. On the Vulcan, it merely seemed she was trying to puzzle out Beverly’s uncharacteristic behavior.
“No, sorry,” she says, standing up finally. She tucks the PADD in her lab coat pocket. “I got distracted reading an article and lost track of time. I’ll finish it in my quarters. Thank you, Doctor.”
She hurries out of sickbay, worried Selar might try to press the issue, and takes the turbolift to get to her quarters. She’s surprised when she enters and sees Jean-Luc already there, his elbows rest on his knees, his fingers steepled.
“Beverly,” he says, standing up immediately when he sees her. “I–”
Seeing him brings tears to her eyes, and she curses, pressing a hand to her cheek to swipe away a teardrop. “Look, Jean-Luc, I know. I’ll formally request a change of quarters first thing in the morning,” she says with a heavy sigh. “I’m sure Geordi can get my old quarters up and running quickly and I’ll be out of here as soon as he does.”
“Beverly,” Jean-Luc says, reaching out to grab her arm. “Could you at least let me speak before you run away?”
“Excuse me?” she snaps, looking down at his hand on her forearm. He’s not hurting her, he’s barely touched her more than to get her attention. She’s not pleased he thinks he can speak to her like that and still touch her, though.
“We didn’t get to finish our conversation in my ready room,” he says, lifting his hand off her forearm, but gesturing towards the sofa. “May we?”
She takes a steadying breath, letting him guide her to sit down. He reaches out and gently takes one of her hands, holding it.
“Beverly,” he says, his voice impossibly soft, “I know years ago I had said I didn’t want a family or children. That I couldn’t be the Starfleet captain I wanted to be if I had personal ties.” He chuckles a little, but the sound is humorless, self-depreciating. “While that was true at the time, it was only part of it. You know a little about my relationship with Robert, and in turn, my relationship with my father. After my mother passed, things were… complicated. My father didn’t know how to be a father to me. I was too dissimilar to him. I like to think I am not my father, but having that sort of father figure does put certain fears in one’s head.”
“You’re afraid you might be like him?” Beverly murmurs, frowning a little.
“I don’t know how to relate to children,” he says honestly, even shrugging his shoulders. “I am not good with them. Knowing that, I never want to put a child, especially not my child, through the childhood I had. It simply wouldn’t be fair to them.”
She reaches for his face, cupping his cheek. “Jean-Luc, you sell yourself too short,” she says, shaking her head when he tries to interrupt her. “No, I mean it. I’ve seen you with children. Wesley, when he was a baby, and then once he was a teenager. Or occasionally with kids on this ship. Knowing how your father treated you and recognizing that it was problematic, that’s a level of self-awareness most parents would love to have.”
He sighs, taking her hand from his cheek and holding both of her hands in his own. “There’s more,” he admits, almost a whisper. “You know that I have… been in love with you for a very long time. Even when I should not have been.”
Beverly holds her tongue, sensing that this is more than just a guilty conscience regarding his feelings for her during her marriage. She waits for him to continue.
“The complete truth is that it wasn’t just my ambition, or my fears over my own father, that made me realize I would never have children,” he says, raising his eyes to hers. “I realized I would never have children, or even a family, when Jack introduced you to me as his girlfriend. I knew that there was only one woman I could imagine having a family with… and that was you.”
Beverly inhales sharply, her eyes widening. Whatever she had expected him to say, it certainly wasn’t that. “Jean-Luc,” she murmurs, though that’s as far as her thoughts have gotten. Instead of saying anything else, she pulls her hands out of his and wraps her arms around his neck. She kisses him, pouring all the emotion she can’t express into the kiss.
Jean-Luc’s hands slip around her back, pressing her closer to him. “Does that mean you’re not moving out?” he whispers once their lips part.
She chuckles, tears in her eyes. “Yeah,” she says, smiling stupidly. “I’m not moving out.”
Telling him helps ease most of Beverly’s anxiety, as it turns out. Knowing she’s not going through this alone does a lot to help soothe her. Of course, as her anxiety settles some, she has Jean-Luc there to pick up the slack. She has to remind herself that he’s never done this before, and even when she was first pregnant with Wes, he and Jack were both on the Stargazer, safely away from anything more than subspace updates.
For all of his ability as a captain to project confidence, when he’s faced with something completely out of his element, Jean-Luc can become quite the worrier.
In some ways, it’s adorable. He dotes on her in their quarters, making sure to provide her with ginger tea and programming the replicator with any of her cravings. He follows her into the bathroom and rubs her back or holds her hair when the morning sickness becomes too much. He asks questions, and for literature to read, and even says he wants to be there for all her appointments (she points out realistically that might be a tall order for the captain of the flagship and he sheepishly concedes).
Then there are the times it’s less adorable. When he crowds her and her hormones have her irritable and wanting to be left alone. Or he insists she has to eat something when eating is the last thing she can stomach. Or, and this is the big one, he has the audacity to come down to her sickbay and suggest she’s working too many shifts or for too long, when she’s working her perfectly normal schedule as CMO.
“Well, yes, but you’re pregnant now,” he says when she points this out.
“Thank you for that news; I had no idea,” she retorts with a raised eyebrow.
His brow furrows in response, and she takes a deep breath, already counting back from a hundred in her head. Nothing good comes from that look at the best of times.
“Beverly,” he says, in his diplomatic tone, and her eyes narrow. He must catch her expression, because he clears his throat, and sounds less like a captain dealing with an angry Romulan when he continues. “I only mean to say, I would understand as your captain if you needed to work fewer hours. Starfleet has many accommodations for expecting parents.”
She turns back to her console, because if she looks at him any longer she thinks she might strangle him. “Thank you for your concern, Captain, but I don’t need those accommodations at this time.”
“Beverly, I just mean—”
She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose for a moment. “Jean-Luc, I appreciate your concern, both as my captain and my partner, but right now, it’s unnecessary.”
“When I came in here to see you, you weren’t even in your office,” he says. “You were in the bathroom, vomiting.”
“Yes, I’m pregnant and in the first trimester,” she says, exasperated. “That’s going to happen.”
“It’s understandable that you might need more rest, given your condition. I’m sure Doctors Selar and Hill could—”
“This isn’t my first time being pregnant,” she interrupts, cutting her eyes back toward him. “You might remember that I’ve done this before? In med school, no less, and by myself. I think I can handle being CMO with a full staff and people to support me.”
“Well, yes, but that was twenty years ago,” Jean-Luc says with a dismissive flick of his hand. “You’re older now—”
“Excuse me?”
Jean-Luc shuts up, and the grimace suggests he realizes his error. “I didn’t mean—”
“This isn’t the twentieth century, Jean-Luc,” she snaps, standing up now. “People my age have babies all the time.”
“There are still—”
She holds up her hand, inhaling and exhaling a deep breath. “No,” she says, sounding calmer. “I am keenly aware of any and all potential issues, Jean-Luc. I don’t need you reminding me of them, and furthermore, I don’t need you preemptively worrying about them.”
Beverly walks around her desk, taking his hands in hers and staring into his eyes. “I know you’re concerned and just trying to look out for baby and me,” she says, bringing his hand to her stomach. She’s still relatively trim, just the hint of a swell beneath his palm. She can’t even feel the baby move yet, much less let him feel it, but she likes the connection between them just the same. “I love that, and I love you, but please. Trust me to know my limits.”
Jean-Luc frowns in a way that is almost petulant, stroking her stomach with one hand and capturing her chin with his other. “I know you,” he says, raising an eyebrow, “And your tendency to overwork yourself when you think you’re the only one who can solve something.”
“Soon, it will become more difficult for me to work,” she says, leaning into him with a sigh. “When that happens, I assure you Dr. Selar and Alyssa will let you know. Then you may come in here, call me old, and drag me out of my office.”
“I did not call you old,” he protests as his arms wrap around her waist now. “I merely stated you were older, which is a fact.”
She hums, unconvinced. “Yes, well, need I remind you that you’re older than me?”
“No.” Jean-Luc actually nuzzles her neck, a pleasant surprise that has her tilting her head to give him more access. “But forgive this old man for worrying about you and his unborn child, hmm?”
Beverly relents, enjoying this more freely affectionate man who has replaced her affection-averse lover. “I forgive you,” she says, then leans back to smile mischievously at him. “Only if you promise that we can have my favorite for dinner.”
He groans a little. “Your Nana’s vegetable soup? Again?” he says, and when she nods, he sighs. “That’ll be the third time this week.”
“You don’t have to eat it,” she points out, poking him in the chest. “It’s the only thing that settles my stomach before bed.”
He catches her hand, bringing it to his lips. “No, it’s all right,” he says and kisses her knuckles. “I like eating the same meal as you.”
Beverly smiles, always amused by the little ways he can be so old-fashioned. She cups his cheek and kisses him softly. “I’ll be home as soon as my shift is over, okay?” she says, a little concession to his earlier concerns.
He nods, kissing the corner of her mouth and then brushing his palm over her stomach. He murmurs a soft, “See you then,” and then he steps out of her office to return to the bridge.
Despite her own medical expertise in the field and this being her second pregnancy, she requests that Alyssa go over everything for Jean-Luc’s sake. He tries to tell her that’s not necessary, that he knows she’ll translate everything he needs to know, but she can tell that he appreciates when Alyssa explains the process and appointment schedule to him.
Beverly also knows he’s researched this himself, but there’s a difference in reading about it and having a professional explain it.
Truthfully, she doesn’t need a dating scan, but she requested one for Jean-Luc. So she’s sitting on an exam bed in a private room in her sickbay, wearing a gown, while Jean-Luc sits in a chair beside her. Alyssa explains what all they’ll be scanning for, and then looks to Beverly to make sure she’s ready. When she nods, Alyssa begins the scan and as the image begins to form on the screen, she says, “Doctor, would you like to—?”
Beverly nods, sitting up a little and taking Jean-Luc’s hand. As Alyssa points to the screen, she begins labeling what they can see so he can know what they’re looking at. As Alyssa points again, Beverly squeezes his hand.
“That’s—”
“Our baby?” he says before she can finish. He looks at her, but then his eyes quickly return to the screen as if he can’t stop looking.
“Yes.” She smiles, a bit teary-eyed, and she glances between the screen and him. She’s having the opposite problem that he is, in that she wants to look in two places at once. She’s captivated by the image of their child, barely a fetus, and by his utter fascination and joy.
“It’s so small,” he says, tilting his head a bit as she traces her finger along the curve.
“Yes, you’re almost ten weeks along,” Alyssa says, and she raises her eyebrows. “Do you want to see if we can—?”
Beverly nods quickly, and Alyssa switches something on the scanner, holding it over her abdomen. She gasps as a pulsing sound echoes through the scanner, and she grips Jean-Luc’s hand tighter.
“That’s the heartbeat, sir,” Alyssa murmurs as Beverly buries her face against his shoulder.
“Sorry,” she mumbles, wiping at her cheek with her free hand. “I didn’t expect to get so emotional from hearing it.”
But Jean-Luc leans into her, kissing her forehead. “It’s beautiful,” he says, his voice gruff.
Alyssa pops an isolinear chip out of the computer, handing it to Jean-Luc. “Copies of the scan and audio of the heartbeat,” she says. “It’s still too soon to hear it on a standard tricorder—” She grins mischievously at Beverly, winking a little, “—but I suspect if you ask the CMO nicely, she might let you requisition one of our more advanced portable dopplers.”
Beverly laughs, nodding as she finally sits up again. “What do you think, Captain?” she murmurs. “Could you overlook such a flagrant misuse of your CMO’s power?”
He brings her hand up to his mouth, kissing the backs of her fingers. “Oh, Doctor, it won’t count as a misuse of your power if I order you to do it.”
She hums something about that being an order she won’t have any trouble following, while Alyssa lightly clears her throat and excuses herself. Beverly slides the chip back into the computer, pulling up the scan again.
Jean-Luc stares at it for several moments. “I never thought,” he says, and then stops to clear his throat. After a minute, he says, “Thank you, Beverly.”
She looks up at him in confusion. “For what?’ she asks.
He smiles down at her, and her heart jumps at the love and adoration she sees in his face. “For trusting me to do this with you,” he says, bending his head to kiss her softly.
It’s not that she’s put off telling Wesley about the pregnancy. It’s just he’s so busy at the Academy, she doesn’t want to bother him. He’s already had enough of a time after the Nova Squadron incident, and then there’s Jean-Luc — or rather, the Captain of the Enterprise — acting as a father figure for him… It’s a lot for a young man to deal with when he’s trying to find his place in the world.
(Also, she’s a little embarrassed. Though she doesn’t have to tell Wes that it was an accident, she still knows it was.)
She’s getting further along though, and soon they’ll have to tell the senior staff (so far only Selar and Alyssa know), and she can’t imagine telling their friends before telling her son.
Ideally, she’d tell him in person, but given his schedule at the Academy and the Enterprise’s mission slate, that’s not going to be possible. So subspace has to do.
She tries to not show how nervous she is as they make the call; Jean-Luc is beside her, just as anxious. It’s ridiculous, because Wesley has known about their relationship for years now, and he’s always been accepting of Jean-Luc.
(“It’s different now,” he had said right before they sat down.
“Because you’ve knocked me up?” she asked with a wry smile and eyebrow raise.
He looked at her with his captain’s face. “I wouldn’t have put it like that, but yes,” he grumbled.
“Sometimes you can be so old-fashioned,” she laughed, squeezing his hand.)
Now, Wes’s face is on screen, and he looks happy, if somewhat surprised, to see them. “Mom! Captain,” he says, tilting his head. “I wasn’t expecting a subspace call.”
All at once, Beverly forgets her nerves when she sees her son. She reaches out, touching his face on the screen as if he was physically in front of her. “Wesley,” she says softly, smiling.
“We hope we haven’t taken you away from anything important,” Jean-Luc says, sensing that Beverly needs a moment to collect herself.
“No, of course not,” Wesley replies easily, his eyes momentarily darting to something just off screen. “I was just taking a break from studying.”
That snaps Beverly back into her usual self, with her brow furrowing. “You are taking breaks, aren’t you?” she says, her tone dubious.
Wes rolls his eyes. “Yes, Mom. But I don’t think you called me to ask if I was taking breaks,” he says, deftly maneuvering the conversation away from his study habits.
Beverly bites her lip, looking at Jean-Luc. It’s rare that she doesn’t know how to tell someone some news; it’s a large part of her job as a doctor, after all.
In return, Jean-Luc raises an eyebrow just slightly and then turns back to the screen. “Wesley, your mother and I have something to tell you.”
Wes blinks, his face carefully crafted to not betray anything. “Okay,” he says slowly.
“I’m pregnant,” she says in a rush and watches as Wesley processes the information in time slightly delayed by subspace.
“Oh,” he says, and then, more emphatically, “Oh!” He clears his throat once and then again. “Congratulations?”
He doesn’t sound entirely certain of that, but Beverly breathes a sigh of relief, and he says it again, more convincingly, “Congratulations!”
“Thank you,” she says, smiling. He asks some questions, inquiring about her health and the pregnancy, and what they know so far about the baby.
After a bit, he says, “I thought at first — well, when you said you had to tell me something, I thought that it would be that you were getting married.”
Beverly looks at Jean-Luc in surprise. “Oh,” she says somewhat dumbly. “We honestly hadn’t discussed it,” she says, and then quickly turns back to Wes. She doesn’t want to linger on the thought right now. Instead, she studies her son, taking in his expression. He’s smiling, his eyes bright, but she thinks she sees something lurking just under the surface. She considers whether she wants to push, and ultimately decides to go for it. “Wes, you know if there’s anything — anything you want or need to say… I won’t be upset. I know this is sudden and unexpected. It was unexpected for us, too.”
Wesley shakes his head, saying, “No, really, Mom. I’m happy for you. For both of you.” He glances at something, presumably a chronometer, as he says, “I need to go for now, but keep me updated on how you’re doing. If there’s anything you need—”
“Thank you, Wesley,” Beverly interrupts. “I love you.” With that, they disconnect the call, and Beverly leans into Jean-Luc’s side.
“That went well,” he says carefully, his arm wrapping around her shoulders.
She hums, not so confident. “He seemed happy enough,” she finally agrees after a moment, “But I felt like he wasn’t being completely honest.”
“You think he’s lying about being happy for us?”
“No,” she says, sitting up so she can look into his eyes. “No, I don’t think it’s that. But there’s something.”
Jean-Luc is quiet for a bit. “Maybe you should speak to him again, without me here,” he suggests. “He might be more open.”
She takes his hand, squeezing it. “He loves you, you know,” she says softly.
“Beverly,” he sighs, and she’s quick to interrupt him.
“No, he does. He might not say it, but he does. He’s looked up to you ever since we first stepped onto the Enterprise.” Beverly leans back into him, resting her head on his shoulder once more. “I’m saying this so that you know that whatever Wesley’s concerns might be about the news, it’s not because he doesn’t care for you.”
Jean-Luc hums thoughtfully. “I just worry that perhaps having a mother who is the Chief Medical Officer of the Federation flagship and in a relationship with the captain of said flagship might put some pressure on a young man.”
She chews her lip, turning his words over in her head. She thinks about last year’s incident with the Nova Squadron, and Wesley’s expression when she and Jean-Luc turned up for the inquiry. She raises her head and kisses his cheek.
“I’ll give Wes a couple of days to digest the news, and then I’ll call him again,” she says decidedly.
True to her word, she waits a few days before she reaches out to Wesley again, just her this time. It takes a bit of cajoling and assuring him he can tell her anything, but eventually he confesses that while he’s happy for her and Jean-Luc, he also knows that the student body of the Academy will find out eventually. As Jean-Luc suspected, their relationship has added a bit of stress to Wesley’s experience. It’s an emotional conversation, not least because of Beverly’s hormones. By the end of it, they’ve both had a bit of a catharsis.
Beverly walks into the bedroom, rolling her neck and stretching. She’d chosen to make the call in the main room so Jean-Luc could already be in bed. Surprisingly, he’s still awake, sitting up in bed and reading a book.
“How did it go?” he asks, setting the book down while she crosses to the bed.
She sinks down onto it, immediately curling into his side. She makes a little sound. “As well as can be expected, I suppose,” she says after a moment, inhaling the clean scent of his aftershave and the sterility of the sonic shower.
Jean-Luc waits.
“You were right,” she says eventually. “Our relationship has made his time at the Academy difficult.”
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, and she can hear the sincerity.
“It’s not your fault.” She places a hand on his chest, rubbing gently. “Wesley doesn’t blame you. It was always going to be hard for him, with me, with Jack. And even if we weren’t romantically involved, you were going to be a big part of his life on the Enterprise either way.”
“Are they being terribly cruel to him?” Jean-Luc asks with the sensitivity of someone whose brother had been the source of pain when he was younger.
“No,” she assures. “Some snide comments about nepotism occasionally. I imagine it was worse after the Nova Squadron inquiry and had calmed down. He’s worried it’ll start back once we have the baby.”
Jean-Luc nods, but she notices he’s become very still. His breathing is very controlled, and he’s not saying anything. She raises her head to look up at him, and his eyes are distant.
“Jean-Luc,” she says softly, and when he looks at her, she smiles as if nothing is wrong. Because nothing is wrong. “What were you reading?”
The question breaks the tension as he chuckles, reaching for the book. He shows her the cover: What to Expect When You’re Expecting.
“Where did you even get that?” she asks, laughing as well.
“Will,” he says as if that explains everything, and it does. “His idea of a joke.”
Beverly takes it from him, scoffing as she skims some of the pages. “When is this even from?”
“Early twenty-first century,” he says, reaching for her. He pulls her back into his side, brushing his lips against the side of her head. “Why? Is the information outdated, Doctor?”
She shoots him an annoyed, if amused, sidelong glance. “Oh, only just,” she retorts. She pushes the book back toward him. “Read me something.”
“I don’t have my PADD with me,” he says, but she shakes her head.
“No, read me something from this.” She gestures toward the book in his hands. “I could use a good laugh.”
Now Jean-Luc is the one amused. “Are you certain that’s a good idea? It’s… quite out of touch even in my non-professional opinion.”
“Doctor’s orders,” she hums, and Jean-Luc makes a soft sound.
He bends his head to whisper in her ear, “Now that sounds like a considerably more pleasant activity.”
She laughs, pushing the book toward him again. “Later. You can help lower my blood pressure after this book does a number on it.”
Before they even go down to sickbay for the appointment, she’s asking Jean-Luc, “Are you sure you want to know the baby’s gender?”
He looks at her amusedly. “We’ve been over this,” he reminds her, raising an eyebrow at her. “Several times.”
“Yes, but this is your last chance before we get down there,” she points out. “Well, okay, Selar will probably ask us when we’re there, but she’ll take any answer we give at face value. If you have any doubts, you should tell me now.”
Jean-Luc sighs, taking her hands and looking into her eyes. “Beverly,” he says, firmly but not unkindly. “You’re going to know what you’re looking at before I’ve even processed it. I’m not going to ask you to not look, nor will I ask you to try and keep that secret for another twenty weeks.”
“You won’t mind knowing?” she asks, and when he rolls his eyes, she lets go of his hands and cups his face. “No, I’m serious. You’ve said you don’t mind, that you’re not expecting one way or another, but — well. I wouldn’t fault you for… for wanting a son or something.”
“You wouldn’t?” he says, but more incredulously than as if he’s been called out.
This time, Beverly rolls her eyes. “Only if you want a son because of some misguided sexism and not because, I don’t know, you think you’d better understand raising a boy since you were one yourself.”
He laughs, shaking his head. “Honestly, Beverly,” he says, “I just want a healthy child. I’m going to be completely lost as a parent either way.”
She strokes his cheek with her thumb. “You’re going to be great,” she reassures, pecking his lips. “Can I tell you a secret?”
“Always.”
“I’ll love our baby no matter what — I already do — but a part of me hopes it’s a boy, because I’ve already got experience raising a boy,” she says, almost matter-of-factly. “Every baby is different, of course, but I feel like I know what to expect with a son.”
She watches as Jean-Luc takes this in until he nods once. “I understand, but I truly don’t have a preference one way or the other,” he replies, moving so as to guide her out of their quarters. “A boy or a girl sounds wonderful to me. I only hope they inherit your hairline instead of mine.”
Beverly laughs, shaking her head as they walk out into the corridor. The turbolift quickly takes them to sickbay and soon she’s in an all-too-familiar gown as Selar prepares the scan. Idly, Beverly rubs her rounded stomach as she waits. She had to make the switch to the maternity uniform a few weeks ago, earlier than she had when she was pregnant with Wesley. It’s made her somewhat self-conscious, but in moments like this, all she can see is how beautiful it is.
It helps that she looks at Jean-Luc and can see the adoration shining in his eyes. He likes her like this; he loves her anyway, no matter what, but there’s something about her being pregnant, she thinks. She noticed it during the beginning, long before she started to show. Something in his eyes, and his smile, and the way he touched her more openly and easily.
“Before I begin, I am required to ask, do you want to know the gender of the fetus?” Selar asks in perfectly emotionless tones.
“Yes,” Jean-Luc is quick to answer, his own tone a bit more gruff.
Beverly recognizes it as a result of her earlier pestering, so she reaches for his hand and squeezes it as she reassures Selar (who only responded to his snappy, monosyllabic answer with a raised eyebrow). “Yes, we’ve decided we want to know.”
Selar nods curtly, and then begins the scan. She checks the baby’s anatomy, making sure to include Jean-Luc in the conversation as they examine the images. With a surprising bit of humanity, Selar says, “Doctor, would you like to tell the Captain, or shall I?”
Beverly is already smiling, and she brings Jean-Luc’s hand to her belly. “It’s a boy, Jean-Luc,” she murmurs to him. “We’re having a son.”
“A son,” Jean-Luc repeats, spreading his fingers over her stomach. He leans in and presses a kiss to Beverly’s cheek.
It’s much later, several days in fact, when Beverly is curled up on the couch in his ready room. They’ve just finished lunch, but Beverly hasn’t deigned to head back down to sickbay yet. She’s rather enjoying the luxury of being off her feet and on his couch, nursing her decaffeinated tea.
“We need to start thinking of names for him,” she says as she turns her head to look at Jean-Luc.
“Hmm?” he hums, glancing away from his terminal.
“For the baby,” she repeats. “He needs a name.”
Jean-Luc wrinkles his nose a bit. “It’s a little soon, isn’t it? We’ve only just found out.”
Beverly shakes her head. “Never too soon to start thinking about names,” she says assuredly. “My mind is liable to change more times than Data can calculate between now and when we welcome him into the world.”
He chuckles, standing up and crossing over to her. He lifts her feet just enough to slide underneath them. “If you’re only going to change your mind, what’s the point in coming up with a name now?” he asks as he begins lightly massaging her feet.
She hums, her head falling back on her shoulders as she enjoys the impromptu massage. “What was the question?” she asks after a moment.
“Why come up with a name now if you’re only going to change your mind later?”
“Because it’s what you do,” she replies, her eyes still closed. She delicately pokes his thigh with the toes of the foot he’s not massaging. “Now, out with it, Captain. What names are you thinking about for our son?”
Jean-Luc stills, his fingers tightening around her foot. “Well,” he says, clearing his throat, “There’s only one name I could imagine giving our son.”
She raises her head to look at him. “And? What is it?”
“Jack.”
He says it so simply, so matter-of-fact, that she almost thinks she must have misheard. For a moment, she stares, and then she pulls her feet free so that she can properly sit up.
“You want to name our son after… Jack?” Her mind is racing, so she nearly misses him nodding, his affirmative answer too quiet.
“He was my best friend,” he offers after several moments, when she hasn’t said anything else.
“He was my husband.”
That’s not even getting into the sordid history of how Jean-Luc fell in love with her when she was seeing Jack.
“I am aware,” Jean-Luc retorts dryly. “He meant a lot to both of us.”
Beverly stares at him again. “Are you sure you’re okay with that?” she asks, and when he starts to respond, she reaches out and grabs his hand. “No. I want you to think about it. You’ll hear his name all the time. You’ll have to call him by that name. I’ll call him by that name. Can you handle hearing the name of your best friend, my husband, constantly? And you won’t… feel resentful to be reminded of my relationship with Jack?”
Jean-Luc does her the courtesy of thinking it over, before he nods again. “Yes, Beverly,” he says, and she stares into his eyes, determined to see any doubt or uncertainty.
“All right,” she says after a moment. “Jack. Except it should be Jacques,” she says, carefully accenting the French pronunciation.
“Why?” Jean-Luc’s brows knit together.
“It’ll be more fitting with his last name,” she says, and raises her eyebrows when he continues to look confused. “Picard?” she elaborates, as if it’s obvious. Which, she rather thought it was.
He stares at her for a period of time she thinks is longer than strictly necessary.
“Jean-Luc?” she says finally, trying to prompt a response. “Are you all right?”
“I thought you’d want him to have your last name,” he admits, his voice gruff and emotional. He swallows and when she looks closely, she can see the tear just at the corner of his eye.
Beverly chews her lip for a second. “Well,” she murmurs, “It’s not really mine, is it?”
Her tone doesn’t sound bitter, or regretful, just matter of fact. She had her reasons for taking Jack’s last name when they got married. He didn’t force it on her. That being said, there was a part of it that was never really hers, and was always just a bit of him to hold onto.
Jean-Luc stares into her eyes, and she can tell he’s thinking over something. He nods after a bit, saying, “All right. Jacques Picard it is.”
She’s surprised by the smile that splits her face. Hearing him say the name out loud — the name of their son — sends a flicker of warmth through her. She instinctively places a hand on her stomach, and feels the baby flutter in response.
There are many aspects of pregnancy that Jean-Luc has, surprisingly, latched onto with enthusiasm. The appointments, the pregnancy cravings, even dealing with Beverly’s ever-fluctuating moods. He’s even weathered the constant attention from the crew about his impending bundle of joy.
Perhaps that last one has a limit, and that’s why Beverly finds herself pinching the bridge of her nose.
The irritation she feels is not just because of Jean-Luc’s petulance, she knows. It’s a result of her hormones, and the ache in her back from the bowling ball strapped to her stomach, and the headache that radiates from her temples to her neck. However, right now, that irritation is solely focused on the man she loves as he pouts and throws a tantrum not unlike the ones she imagines their son will have once he’s born.
“I just don’t understand why Deanna has insisted on this party,” he grumbles. He’s seated at his desk, fiddling with a stylus as he studiously does not look at her.
Beverly counts backwards from ten and exhales. “It’s not a party; it’s a baby shower,” she says, and raises a hand to stop his pedantry in its tracks. “It’s tradition for friends and family of the parents-to-be to celebrate the upcoming birth.”
“With a party,” he mutters to his stylus. When she doesn’t say anything, he looks up to meet her stony glare, setting the stylus down sharply. “Why does it have to be in Ten Forward? Why couldn’t it have just been the senior staff and some of your staff in the observation lounge?”
“You know damn well Guinan would not have let that slide,” she scowls, hands on her hips. “Now, are you going to stop pouting and walk with me to Ten Forward, or should I go alone?”
He stands up, tugging his uniform top down with a touch more force than usual. He, of course, hasn’t bothered to change out of it since getting off-duty, precisely because of the party. For her part, Beverly ditched her maternity uniform as soon as possible for a dress that felt less restrictive. Something in Jean-Luc’s expression softens as he properly looks at her.
“You look beautiful,” he murmurs, approaching her and gently taking her hand.
“Flattery is not going to get you out of this party,” she replies, raising an eyebrow at him.
He shakes his head, chuckling. “No flattery,” he promises. “Just the truth.”
Beverly knows she shouldn’t melt, but well. He makes it difficult. So she leans in and kisses him softly, before tugging him out of their quarters.
Right before they enter Ten Forward, she glances at him. She can see the gears turning as he slips his captain’s mask on, and she squeezes his hand, bumping her shoulder against his. She smiles softly, scrunching her nose at him to try and encourage him to relax. Then they step forward, the door opening, revealing the group of their guests.
“Beverly! Captain!” Deanna calls out immediately, ready to greet them as the host of the event.
Beverly smiles, hugging her before she steps back and tucks her hand into the crook of Jean-Luc’s elbow. “We can’t thank you enough, Deanna,” she says, letting her eyes sweep around the room.
It’s been emptied out of anyone else, specifically reserved for this purpose. Deanna has decorated Ten Forward with surprising restraint: there are some ribbons and streamers in blue and silver, along with a long table of finger foods and cupcakes, and then a comfortable seating area clearly meant for Beverly and Jean-Luc. Aside from the occasional burst of flowers and balloons, and the banner congratulating the expectant parents, one might not know it was a baby shower at all.
“No thanks are necessary,” Deanna answers her, as Will comes to stand next to her, handing her a glass. “I made sure everyone was aware that this was more of a celebration, less of a gift-giving event.”
Beverly lightly pinches Jean-Luc on his forearm, and he manages to say some word of appreciation for her efforts. With a roll of her eyes, Beverly says, “We’re going to mingle around a bit,” dragging Jean-Luc away with her.
They make their rounds through the crowd, thanking the guests for coming and making small talk about the pregnancy. Beverly allows numerous people to touch her stomach, though mostly Data. He’s been fascinated by the pregnancy, especially ever since it’s become possible to feel the baby move. She obliges him for far longer than she would anyone else, but eventually it gets to be a bit much. She shoots Jean-Luc a look, and he deftly distracts the android while she makes an escape.
She finds her way to the chair Deanna had set aside for her, ending up talking to Deanna and Alyssa as she nibbles on some fruit. By the time Jean-Luc joins her again, the party has started to wind down. Soon, it’s just the senior staff, gathering around where Beverly and Jean-Luc are seated.
“Really, Deanna, you outdid yourself,” she’s saying, smiling at the counselor. “Even Jean-Luc enjoyed himself.” She teasingly nudges her partner, and he manages a begrudged chuckle and nod.
Worf is the one that clears his throat awkwardly, pulling something out of his pocket. It fits in the palm of his hand, and he pushes it in the vague direction of Jean-Luc and Beverly.
“I understand it is a human custom to give gifts for the baby at this… baby shower,” he says, by way of explanation.
“Oh, Worf,” Beverly replies, as she takes the plainly wrapped object. “That wasn’t necessary — Jean-Luc and I requested no gifts.”
Worf shifts, glaring suddenly at Will, and Deanna smacks him. “Will Riker!” she hisses, and Jean-Luc diplomatically steps in.
“Still, thank you, Mr. Worf,” he says, nodding to him. “We greatly appreciate it, don’t we, Beverly?”
“Of course,” she adds as she unwraps it. She blinks as she sees the metallic object in the midst of brown paper. Taking it out, she holds it up. It’s small, almost like a baby rattle, except shaped like a — “You’re giving our baby a bat’leth?”
He straightens up, huffing a bit. “It’s a model meant for children,” he says, voice gruff and almost offended. “It is a most honorable gift for a baby.”
“You might think of it like the scissors which are dulled for child use, Doctor,” Data helpfully supplies, along with the technical name of the object, a Klingon word that immediately leaves Beverly’s head as she studies the thing.
She runs her thumb over what would be the sharp tip, but finds it is, indeed, dull. She’s still uncertain about the safety of it for a baby, and so she lets Jean-Luc be the one to assure Worf that the gift is very thoughtful and welcome.
With Worf giving one gift, it suddenly becomes clear that the rest of the senior staff also thought they were supposed to give gifts as well. Data and Geordi both retrieve their own gifts: Data’s a thin box perfectly wrapped and Geordi’s in a gift bag. Data’s gift turns out to be a baby blanket attached to a small, friendly looking stuffed lion, and Beverly is surprised by the way Jean-Luc holds it as if it is precious.
“This is,” he starts to say, but shakes it head a little, as if overwhelmed by emotion. “I had a little lion stuffed toy as a boy.”
Geordi’s gift is a beautiful, hand-engineered mobile of the Enterprise and stars, a truly breathtaking work of artistry and craft. He shows the ways it lights up, the soft sounds it makes, and even a lullaby that it plays. Whereas Jean-Luc was taken by the lion, Beverly is mesmerized by this.
“Geordi,” she says, knowing the amount of effort it had to take. “You shouldn’t have!”
After a bit more of looking at the mobile, Deanna turns to Will. “Well?” she says expectantly, and he shakes his head.
“Well, what?”
“Where’s your gift?” Deanna raises an eyebrow. After a moment of silence from him, she says, “You mean you convinced Worf, Geordi, and Data to get gifts and you didn’t get one yourself?”
Will shrugs one shoulder. “I’ll babysit,” he says, then winks in the direction of Jean-Luc and Beverly. “On those days you need some alone time, Mom and Dad.”
Beverly rolls her eyes even as Jean-Luc clears his throat, shooting his first officer a warning glance. “I’m going to hold you to that, Will Riker,” Beverly says, pointing a finger at him.
“Scout’s honor,” he promises with an accompanying hand gesture.
“Well,” Deanna says, producing her own gift bag. “I know you said no gifts. So technically, this is not a gift. It’s just… a necessary item from Betazed.” As if to reiterate that it’s not a gift, she pulls out the item herself. It’s a simple black object with a white disc on top. “Humans call them noise machines, but it’s a bit more complicated than that. It’s a psychic resonator.”
“A psychic resonator?” Jean-Luc repeats, studying the object.
“Yes,” she says, nodding. “It taps into your mental frequencies and then it can project them, producing a soothing, familiar sensation for the infant. You’ll want to sleep with it by your bed — for Betazoid women they usually don’t have to until the final month, because they can use their own telepathic powers to charge it. For humans, you’ll want to go ahead and start, so it can be properly resonating by the time baby Jacques is born.”
“Thank you, Deanna,” Beverly says, reaching out to grasp her friend’s hand and squeeze it.
Guinan comes over, presumably to kick them out, but instead she hands a bottle to Jean-Luc. He looks over the bottle’s label, tilting his head curiously.
“I don’t recognize this,” he says, looking up at her.
“Consider it a house blend. The closest to your Earth liquor would be whiskey,” she replies, smirking. “But use a drop for teething infants and it’ll soothe them. Also good for the parents, particularly as a first drink for mothers no longer breastfeeding.” She winks at Beverly.
“Many thanks, Guinan,” Jean-Luc says with a laugh. With that, he helps Beverly up, and then gathers their gifts. Deanna insists they head on back home, while she enlists the others to help clean up Ten Forward.
As they enter the turbolift, Beverly manages to bump Jean-Luc’s shoulder gently. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
He huffs a little chuckle, nudging her back. “No,” he admits. “It wasn’t. I… enjoyed it.”
Beverly sighs, tossing her PADD aside onto the coffee table. She checks the chronometer, wondering where Jean-Luc is. Entering into her final weeks of pregnancy, she finds herself on bedrest mandated by Selar, meaning she’s bored out of her mind. She winces as she stands up from the couch, instinctively reaching to rub her lower back. She replicates some water infused with electrolytes and nutrients, as well as a little something to maybe settle the heartburn she’s suffering from. She looks down at her belly, at how large she’s gotten, and she feels Jacques performing little kicks or something.
“I know, baby,” she says, placing a hand and feeling an answering foot press against her palm. “Your papa will be home soon.”
No sooner has she said that the door slides open and Jean-Luc strides in. He scans the room, landing on her over by the replicator. He crosses over to her, kissing her cheek, and touching her stomach. She instinctively moves his hand to where she can feel Jacques is most active.
“You’re supposed to be resting,” he says, a bit stern.
“And you’re late,” she replies, raising an eyebrow.
He sighs, taking a step back. “I had a call from Command,” he says, leading her toward the table where he helps her sit and then sits himself. “They’re requesting the Enterprise detour to the Phi Sagittarii system. Apparently a conflict is happening between the planet Wesphoros and one of its moons.”
Beverly listens carefully, narrowing her eyes. “What kind of conflict?” she asks, resting her hands on top of the table. She knots her fingers together.
“We’ll be required to oversee negotiations between delegates from the planet and the moon to try and forestall a war. So far, neither side has resorted to violence. Hopefully, with our help, that will be avoided entirely.”
“All right. Sounds pretty typical so far.” She adjusts in the chair, finding it difficult to be comfortable in nearly any position. “What are you leaving out?”
“As you might expect, the matter is quite time sensitive.” He’s speaking slowly, carefully choosing his words, and that only puts her more on edge. “The Enterprise has been immediately diverted to the system. We should arrive in about five days.” He pauses, steepling his fingers. “Command believes there’s a strong chance the talks could take a couple of weeks. Furthermore, because of the nature of the Phi Sagittarii system and its solar environment, ion storms are quite common… We’ll be required to take a shuttle planetside—”
Beverly straightens at that. “Excuse me?” she interrupts. “Aren’t these talks usually held on neutral ground, like the Enterprise?”
“Typically, yes,” Jean-Luc concedes with a short nod. “However, the Wesphorosi peoples are not suited to our starship environments. So we’ll be meeting on another moon in the system. As I said, we’ll take a shuttle—”
“Yes, I heard you the first time.” She stands up, somewhat awkwardly crossing her arms as she does so. “You’re telling me that you’re going to take a shuttle to another planet in ion storm conditions… and I’m set to give birth any day now?”
“It’s not any day now,” he scoffs, and she tilts her head. He ignores whatever warning sign she might be giving him, pushing forward. “In five days, we’ll be in the system. We’ll begin negotiations then. You’re not due for another three weeks.”
“And you know damn well that that’s an estimate and it can happen before that time. Especially since Selar is monitoring my blood pressure closely right now.”
Jean-Luc stands as well, holding his hands out placatingly. “All the more reason not to get upset over this,” he says, his voice soft, but he stops when Beverly glares at him.
“Jean-Luc, you really want to fly off in a shuttle to some moon, where you won’t be able to transport back for your son’s birth?” she says, scowling at him.
“Of course I don’t want to leave you during this time.” He doesn’t quite shrug, but he does tug at his uniform top. “However, Starfleet Command has ordered us to—”
“Does it have to be you? Does it have to be the Enterprise?”
He sighs, rubbing his hand over his head. “Beverly, we’re the closest ship, as well as the flagship.” He takes a few steps toward her, reaching for her hands. When she steps back, pulling her hands away, he frowns. “You know that lends a certain gravitas to these sorts of missions that can be hard for upset parties to ignore. And I am the captain.”
“You’re also an expectant father and I could go into labor at any time. Or I could become preeclamptic or suffer some other problem. You should be here on the ship with me, not a shuttle ride through an ion storm away.”
“I know, I know. But I have to do this—”
“You don’t have to do anything,” she grumbles, turning away from him. She stares out the viewport at the stars.
“I cannot ignore an order from Command, Beverly.” He comes up slowly behind her, his hands resting on her shoulders. “I need you to trust that I will do everything in my power to wrap these negotiations up quickly, and then I’ll be back on the Enterprise.”
She stands firm for a moment, before she gives in and leans back against him. He rubs her shoulders gently, bending his head to nuzzle against her hair. “I want you to be here for the birth of our son.”
“I promise I won’t miss it.” He presses a kiss to the top of her head. “I’ll be back before you can even miss me.”
“You better be,” she mumbles, pulling back to look into his eyes. “I’m serious, Jean-Luc. I don’t want to do this alone.”
Beverly sits on a biobed in sickbay, rubbing at her temple as Selar scans her with a tricorder. Jean-Luc had left earlier, unable to stay with her for her weekly checkup when he had to take a shuttle down to the planet the Enterprise is currently orbiting. She’s not proud of the fight she tried to pick with him before he left, and she blames it for the pressure in her head.
“Do you have a headache, Doctor?” Selar asks with no inflection. Nonetheless, it has Beverly’s anxiety kicking up a notch.
“A little one.” She clears her throat and explains, “I wasn’t happy that Jean-Luc couldn’t be here today.”
Selar doesn’t respond at all, not even with a noise of acknowledgement. Beverly clenches her hand into a fist, trying to calmly lower it to her side.
“Is the Captain at the Wesphorosi talks?”
“Yes,” Beverly confirms with a sigh. “He had to leave earlier than expected because of some ionic activity the Wesphorosi were predicting later.”
Selar nods, setting the tricorder aside. “Your blood pressure is continuing to read abnormally high,” she says, meeting Beverly’s eyes. “I would recommend keeping you here in sickbay for now.”
She frowns, reaching for the tricorder so she can study the readings. “Is that really necessary? It’s probably just because of the argument with Jean-Luc.”
“It’s a precaution, based on your high blood pressure that has been going on for the last several checkups that you’ve had,” Selar replies, her brow furrowed as she has to defend what she sees as a logical choice. “I also want to run additional tests to monitor your kidney and liver function that will be more in depth than what a base level scan can provide.”
Beverly knows she’s right; the readings she’s having today are concerning, and they’ve only been progressing over her last two appointments. Combined with the headache she’s developed since this morning, Selar is right to be cautious. She chews her lip before nodding.
“All right,” she says, drumming her fingers on the tricorder for a second. “I’ll stay in sickbay for monitoring for now. Can you get Counselor Troi for me?”
“Of course. I’ll send Alyssa in as well to collect the material needed for the tests,” she says, walking away from the biobed.
Beverly sighs, resting back on the biobed. It’s uncomfortable, but then again, everything is these days. Alyssa comes in to collect samples to test and to hook Beverly up to various monitoring functions. She makes small talk as she does so, though Beverly barely responds. It’s all a part of Alyssa trying to make her not worry, of course, as if both of them don’t know what's going on.
By the time Deanna comes in, Beverly has managed to wrap her mind around what is happening.
“I know Jean-Luc is in negotiations, but you need to get a message to him, or to Will,” she says as calmly as she can manage. “I’m fine right now, but Selar is keeping me in sickbay.”
Deanna nods carefully. “What, exactly, is the concern?”
“My blood pressure is too high. I’ve been retaining more fluid than normal, and I have a terrible headache,” Beverly says, listing off symptoms as if she’s reading them from a medical text. “Alyssa and Selar are running further tests, but it’s looking more and more likely that I’m going to be diagnosed with preeclampsia.”
“And what does that mean?” Deanna asks, her dark eyes concerned.
“Essentially right now it’s just complications that can result from high blood pressure which can affect both the baby and me, as well as potential organ damage. It depends on how severe my symptoms get. They might be able to treat the hypertension and none of this will matter. Or, it might get worse and they’ll have to induce. The good news is I’m past thirty-seven weeks and Jacques has already started moving into position, so that should, hopefully, be complication free.”
She blinks at Beverly, digesting this information. “Should I tell Will that the Captain needs to come back as soon as possible?”
“No,” Beverly says decisively. She rubs her belly as she considers it. “We’re fine right now. I just want him to be aware of the situation.”
Deanna waits her out for a moment, before asking again, “You’re sure?”
She rolls her eyes. “Yes, I’m sure. He’s doing important work right now, and there’s no sense in trying to pull him away from it.”
“Okay,” Deanna says, exhaling. She stands up, squeezing Beverly’s hand. “I’ll be right back. Anything else you want to pass along to the Captain?”
Beverly thinks for a second, then nods. She murmurs softly, “Tell him I love him.” She watches Deanna go, looking back down at her belly. She presses her palm to it, glancing over at one of the monitors. They’re tracking the fetus’s vital signs as well, and she’s glad to see that he, at least, is not in distress.
“Just a little longer, okay, baby?” she whispers to him.
Selar comes into the private room again, and Beverly already knows what she’s going to say. Alyssa has been checking on her hourly and the last time, Selar had come with her to discuss induction. Beverly had firmly declined, interrupting her the moment she brought it up. It’s unsurprising to see her again, only an hour later, her expression as concerned as a Vulcan’s expression gets.
“Doctor,” she says, checking the monitor readings with Alyssa by her side. “I must insist we talk about induction.”
“Jean-Luc isn’t here yet,” she says, looking at Deanna as if she needs the confirmation.
The ion storm has come, separating the Enterprise from the moon the talks are happening on. Until it passes, the shuttle can’t possibly leave, much less get to the Enterprise. The interference means no transporter, either.
“I’m not doing this without him.”
“Beverly,” Deanna says calmly, taking her hand. “I understand your feelings on this matter. However, your health—”
Beverly turns and looks at the monitors herself. She studies her readings, but more importantly, the baby’s. “The baby is fine.”
“But you’re not,” Deanna murmurs, turning to Selar.
“Indeed, the Counselor is correct,” Selar confirms. “Your blood pressure is no longer responding to the antihypertensive. Your risk of—”
“I know the science, Selar,” Beverly snaps, pulling her hand out of Deanna’s. “What matters to me is that the baby’s health is not in danger. Until then, we wait for Jean-Luc.”
Selar raises an eyebrow. “Doctor,” she says calmly and carefully, “Even if we induce now, it will take some time for you to actually give birth. We know the Captain is aware of the situation and trying to get to the Enterprise. Logically, shouldn’t we go ahead and start the process?”
Beverly starts to respond, but Selar adds, “Before the baby is endangered?”
That has her snapping her mouth shut. She purses her lips, eying the monitors carefully. She knows the decision she should make. She knows exactly what she would advise if the positions were reversed.
Deanna reaches out and squeezes her hand, and Beverly wonders if it’s because she can sense her tumultuous emotions. She squeezes it back as she nods to Selar.
“Nurse Ogawa, prepare for induction,” Selar says promptly, nodding to Alyssa. To Beverly, she says in a solemn voice, “I will try to wait for the Captain’s arrival, Doctor.”
Beverly nods, still holding Deanna’s hand. She doesn’t believe in deities, but she sends out a thought nonetheless, a mental prayer. Come on, Jean-Luc.
A few hours pass and Beverly finds herself in a birthing suite, Deanna at her shoulder as Selar, Alyssa, and a few other medical staff prepare for delivery. Jean-Luc is on a shuttle, but he hasn’t arrived yet, and Beverly grits her teeth as a contraction hits.
“Deanna,” she says, clutching at the other woman’s hand. “Where is he? I can’t — I can’t do this without him. I-I need him here.”
“He’s on his way, honey,” Deanna assures, wiping at her brow. “Doctor Selar?”
“Doctor Crusher,” Selar says, looking up at her. “You’re fully dilated. It’s getting time to—”
“No!” Beverly interrupts, shaking her head. “Jean-Luc — he’s not here yet, he can’t miss this. He promised me. He promised—”
“Beverly.” Selar raises up a bit so she can meet her eyes. “I know you want the Captain here. He is on his way. But my duty is to you and your baby’s health right now. I need you to focus on that.”
“Breathe for us, Beverly,” Alyssa says softly, squeezing her leg. “Take a deep breath, okay.”
Beverly closes her eyes, in dismay and pain as her body tells her it’s time. She’s waited as long as she could, the baby has waited as long as he can. She nods, gripping at Deanna’s hand. “Okay,” she says, breathing in and out. “Okay.”
Selar does a final check on her vitals, making sure her blood pressure can withstand what her body is about to go through. Satisfied, she takes her place once more between Beverly’s legs. “All right, Doctor Crusher. Get ready to push.”
As soon as she’s said that, just as Beverly takes another breath and tears leak from her squeezed-shut eyes, she hears the sounds of the birthing suite opening. She opens her eyes instinctively, and meets Jean-Luc’s just as he cries out, “I’m here, I’m here,” and takes his place at her side.
Deanna slides away, and Jean-Luc’s hand is in Beverly’s as he kisses the side of her head. “I’m sorry,” he says, whispering it over and over again. “I’m here, my love, I’m here.” “Jean-Luc,” she says, and then Selar is commanding her attention, and then all of her focus is on the baby she’s birthing.
The rest of her labor passes in a blur. Mercifully, it goes quickly, and though she’s monitored closely afterward, she finds herself no longer caring about the distress she went through. She’s in a private room, hooked up to a biobed, but more importantly, she’s watching Jean-Luc as he holds their son.
“He’s beautiful,” he murmurs, utterly taken by the baby in his arms. He’s barely set him down or looked away except for moments when the nurses requested him or to let Beverly hold him. “I imagined — but my imagination could not conjure up anything as perfect as him.”
She smiles, gesturing tiredly with her hand for Jean-Luc to bring him closer. He does so, shifting the baby into her arms, and Beverly stares at him.
They’re biased, but she thinks Jean-Luc is absolutely correct. He’s perfect.
“Jacques,” she says, letting his name roll off her tongue. “Our little Jack.”
“Alyssa asked for his name while you were still being cleaned up,” Jean-Luc murmurs, one finger tracing Jacques’s little cheek. “I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of giving him a middle name.”
Beverly frowns, tilting her head to look up at him. “We didn’t discuss a middle name,” she says, a little put out that he made this decision without even talking to her about it.
“I know, and if you’re unhappy with it, Alyssa said we can strike it from his birth record. Like it never existed. Something about getting so many days or something to settle on a name for a newborn?”
She waits, and then prompts, “You haven’t said what you chose?”
“Ah, right.” He clears his throat, tearing his eyes away from Jacques long enough. “I thought Jacques Howard Picard had a nice ring to it.”
He could have physically struck her and Beverly thinks she would have been less surprised. “Howard?” she whispers.
“It’s not French,” he concedes with a knowing little grin. “But it’s a part of his mother.”
She’ll blame the hormones for the way she cries about it afterward, but Jean-Luc and Jacques don’t seem to mind. Jean-Luc makes space for himself on the biobed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and kissing her temple.
“I love you,” she says, leaning into his touch. She then adjusts Jacques, bringing him closer to her.
“Welcome to the Enterprise, Jacques Howard Picard.”