A.N.: In order not to be completely confused about how things have come to this point, it is advisable that you read the novel "Attached Meant" and its sequels, "De-Tached: Story One, Story Two and Story Three: Life With Beverly".

Of course, if you'd rather just go with the flow without reading my earlier efforts, that's okay too. The situation isn't that difficult to understand.

Synopsis: Jean-Luc and Beverly are happily married and living in the house that he'd inherited from his Aunt Adele in San Francisco. Picard is the Superintendent of Starfleet Academy now. Beverly was the temporary head of Starfleet Medical, though by order of the head of Starfleet - Fleet Admiral Winston Holt Wiley - she's now the admiral in charge of creating the Federation's new Hospital Fleet. Oh, and Beverly is pregnant. And thanks to an aftereffect of their psychic bond from the KesPrytt incident, Jean-Luc can feel everything that Beverly feels during their pregnancy including morning sickness. Because Beverly sensed that her unborn twins were psychically 'different', she asked Deanna for help. Deanna sent Lwaxana who has now moved in - temporarily - with the Picards. Guinan shows up too, to be a temporary nanny. Both ladies are going to teach Jean-Luc and Beverly how to deal with or communicate with their twins, in utero. Also, Lwaxana is still romancing the head of Starfleet, much to Jean-Luc's dismay. Jean-Luc and Beverly are going to LaBarre to spend Christmas with Marie and Robert. Christmas Eve at LaBarre was everything that Christmas Eve should be. Christmas Day however, was when the Admirals Picard were throwing their open house back at the San Franciscan home. Since it was an open house, everybody came. Including Klingons, Bolians, Andorians and Orions. Not to mention the cadets. The party started well but ended in an Orion aphrodisiac infused debacle. To recuperate, Beverly and Marie and their spouses went shopping in Paris. And then spent New Year's Eve in LaBarre.

All of this is set in an alternate universe that takes place immediately after the episode "Attached". Therefore, nothing that happened after "Attached" exists in this a/u. Riker is now captain of the Enterprise. Captain Dr. Kate Pulaski is Riker's CMO. Robert and Rene are alive. Admiral Nechayev is a good guy, Etc.

All the usual disclaimers apply. STAR TREK is Paramount's property. But it is fandom's playground.

This author would greatly appreciate any reviews or comments.

De-Tached: Story 4: Life with Beverly

Chapter 1: You Really Shouldn't Have Said That…

"What did you say?" Beverly Howard Crusher Picard glanced over at her personal assistant. Suddenly she felt the floor plates tremble beneath her feet and then she felt a forward movement. She checked. Her shuttlecraft was taking off from Burroughs City. She automatically double checked to make sure that everything was in order. And it was. But she hadn't forgotten what had been said. She returned her beady eyed stare to her still imperturbable adjutant. He didn't blink. For Beverly had not quite caught what she had thought that she had heard, those words that her universal translator had translated from the Vulcan's under-his-breath mutterings. She warily eyed her Vulcan, Lieutenant Commander S'Rock. "Did you just call me a waddling duckling under your breath? Or was it a waddling goatling?"

Lieutenant Commander S'Rock nobly refrained from picking one. (Though to be perfectly truthful, he had muttered under his breath that her very, very pregnant admiral's gait could be compared to that of the Vulcan version of a pregnant Empress Penguin as she waddled.) Instead, he ever-so-politely replied, "I believe you are mistaken, Admiral Picard. I was merely repeating a meditative phrase."

She didn't believe him for a second. Ever since Lieutenant Commander S'Rock had joined her when she'd assumed command as the Senior Rear Admiral of the Federation Hospital Starship Project, she had slowly come to realize that not only did this Vulcan have a very deep and sly sense of humor, but that Mildred's silent warfare and one-up-man-ship campaign against this particular Vulcan was thoroughly justified.

"There's a Vulcan meditative phrase that includes the word waddling? I am not familiar with it."

"I am sure that I can find one if you insist, Admiral," S'Rock calmly responded.

"Just you wait until your wife starts 'showing', Commander. I look forward to seeing her response when you call her waddling." A few weeks earlier, the commander's wife, Ensign Cherry Ames S'Rock, had been diagnosed as pregnant.

"In regards to she who is my spouse, I sincerely doubt that I will ever be so foolish as to say such a word aloud, in her presence." With that remark, S'Rock began moving about the shuttlecraft cabin to make sure that everything that could be done had been done to ensure the Admiral's comfort and welfare.

Beverly reclined into her seat and brought up the footrest. At seven months pregnant, but actually looking like she'd been overdue to give birth for more than a year, Beverly would take her comfort wherever she could find it.

They were on their way back from Mars where she'd been inspecting the hospital and triage ships that were being built at Utopia Planetia. While on Mars, she'd deliberately stayed in Martian gravity quarters instead of the newer, artificial Earth gravity quarters, since Martian gravity was more than one third lighter than Earth's gravity. And when you're carrying twins, and looking like a pregnant hippopotamus, anything that could ease the aches and pains of pregnancy was to be devoutly sought after.

Beverly rested her eyes for a few minutes. And then she felt strong fingers firmly removing her boots.

"No, S'Rock. If you take them off, I won't be able to get them back on," she protested.

"I have packed your slippers. And if you wish, when we get to San Francisco, we will land at Picard House." He stood and put away her boots in a duffel bag. Then he turned and eyed the admiral's ankles.

Beverly automatically adjusted the foot rest so that her feet were elevated above her reclining body without even having to be told to do so.

"Is this to be expected?" S'Rock nodded toward her swollen ankles.

If Beverly didn't know better, she'd accuse S'Rock of channeling Jean-Luc. "No. This is not normal swelling. But it's not that far outside of the normal range, and since I was on my feet most of yesterday, as well as this morning, it is not that unexpected."

As she watched S'Rock type on his padd she idly wondered just exactly which person he was contacting first - her husband or her doctor. She didn't doubt that a minute from now, both would have received messages from her adjutant.

"We are two hours and forty-three minutes from Earth orbit," S'Rock announced. "May I suggest that the Admiral rest? There is nothing pressing on your schedule for the rest of the day."

"And my messages?" She rested her eyes.

"Nothing of importance from the admiralty. I can deal with them in the morning."

"What about my husband? I have yet to hear from him today." She knew he was resting through their psychic link.

"He has yet to contact you. I believe that there is the possibility that he is recuperating."

Beverly opened her eyes. "Recuperating? From what?"

"Admiral Winston Holt Wiley held an admiral's round-up poker game last night."

"No doubt it was held at Picard House…," Beverly grumbled.

"Admiral, if you are not careful, Admiral Winston Holt Wiley may declare your home to be his permanent residence. He seems to be spending a sufficient amount of time there to claim your address as his legal residence."

"Well, I suppose I cannot totally blame the man. After all, Lwaxana is redecorating Holt's mansion." Beverly closed her eyes again.

S'Rock could only mentally shudder at the thought of Lwaxana Troi Wiley redecorating anything.

"I suppose it would have been too much to have asked Robert to host the poker party, especially after what happened during Lwaxana and Holt's wedding party." Beverly shook her head remembering. The wedding banquet had been held at Picard House. But somehow, the madcap revelry that one came to expect from any party that had wine and Lwaxana in attendance at the same time, ended up transporting afterwards over to Château Picard. Beverly still hadn't figured out that sequence of events and how they had come about. She was only grateful that Lwaxana's wedding party had not been quite as riotous as the Picard Christmas Day party. Though judging by how Robert blustered and complained mightily afterwards, it most definitely was the wildest party that the ancestral Picard home had seen for many a century.

S'Rock knelt before Beverly, draped a light blanket over her legs, and started massaging her ankles.

She raised herself up on one elbow. "S'Rock… Don't…"

"Is not a foot massage part of the recommended treatment for swollen ankles, Doctor?"

He had her there. She fell back against the beige cushions of her seat. For even if it wasn't officially recommended, right now, what he was doing to her feet bordered on the sinful. It felt so good…

"Commander, where did you learn how to massage feet so well…," she sighed. "You should give Jean-Luc some lessons…"

"Vulcan Physiognomy Academy." he dutifully answered. "I have also studied Chinese micro-system reflexology techniques as well. When the time approaches, if necessary, I am skilled in the art of foot massages to induce labor."

Beverly considered this statement. "I am not even going to ask why you know how to do that." She decided to rest her eyes again.

What seemed to Beverly like only a few moments later, but in real time was actually more than two hours later, Commander S'Rock awakened her.

"We will be landing at your front courtyard," S'Rock announced as he collected the admiral's tote bags, and luggage. He offered the lady her slippers. "Admiral Jean-Luc Picard awaits."

"Hung over?" Beverly was curious.

"My brief conversation with Admiral Picard did not indicate that he was suffering from such a condition."

Beverly only harrumphed. "Good. Then I can harangue him about not being invited to the admiral's round-up. Last time I checked my collar, I'm still an admiral, for heaven's sake!"

"I believe it was Mrs. Krebs who advised the admirals against extending an invitation to you since you were on Mars. Mrs. Krebs did not wish for you to incur the stresses of trying to accomplish everything at the UP in haste in order to return to Earth in time to attend the party." Since this seemed eminently logical, Commander S'Rock considered the matter to be closed. He checked his padd and then inspected his superior officer one more time. "Is there anything else I can do for you, Admiral Picard?"

Beverly eyed her Vulcan as she took this statement at face value. She was well aware of the ongoing battle between S'Rock and Mrs. Krebs. The Picards and their staffs were permitted to be amused bystanders. But now was not the time to delve into that mystery.

"Can you tell me when Mrs. Krebs will be throwing my surprise baby shower?"

"I believe it is scheduled for 1300 hours, next Sunday afternoon," S'Rock promptly answered. "How did you know that Mrs. Krebs is throwing you such a party?"

"The surprise isn't that Mildred has been plotting such a party, S'Rock. The true surprise is who Mildred strong-armed into officially hosting it - and where." Beverly shuddered for a second. "Please tell me that is wasn't Marie."

"It was not the Comtesse d'Holl," S'Rock dutifully replied.

Beverly waited a moment. "Well, give. Who, then?"

"My wife volunteered to co-host."

Beverly just knew that there had to be a reason as to why S'Rock was stalling. "Tell Cherry that I appreciate her kindness." She firmly eyed her adjutant even as she stood and stepped into her slippers. "Who's the other co-conspirator? Or co-conspirators?"

"It might be advisable for you to sit down again," S'Rock suggested.

"Oh, no…," Beverly groaned as she complied. "Guinan?" S'Rock slightly nodded. Then she thought of something else, "Lwaxana?" S'Rock nodded more vigorously. "Oh, for the days when I had hoped that it would be only Deanna…" She gathered up her strength to ask the next most important question. "Where?"

"If the house is sufficiently decorated, it will be at Admiral Winston Holt Wiley's residence. Otherwise, it will be held at the Betazed Embassy."

Beverly thought about all of the possible difficulties that either place could bring. "Why do I get the feeling that I will be volunteering Picard House when push comes to shove?"

"Though I do not quite comprehend that idiomatic imagery, I would imagine that it is best to be prepared for such an occurrence."

"I am sure that Mildred has already done so…" Beverly decided to change the subject. "Commander, when we are not in a formal situation or on duty, please call me by my first name. Mildred does so."

"I do not feel that I know you well enough to do so, Admiral Picard."

Beverly glared at him. "You just gave me the best foot massage that I've ever experienced. I would say that you know me personally well enough by now if you have learned my pleasure pressure points."

"I will consider yours words and discuss them with she who is my wife. In this matter, I will follow her guidance."

"Cherry is a very lucky lady," Beverly softly whispered, even as she looked out the window to see just how close they were to landing.

Even as she espied her beloved, she also noticed that standing next to him was her personal physician, Dr. Norah Bolt. They both looked greatly concerned.

"Commander…," she growled, revealing her exasperation with him as well as with her mother-henning husband, "… just exactly how did you phrase your sub-space message to them?"

=/\= ='/\'= =/\=

After Dr. Bolt had thoroughly checked Beverly out - not that Beverly had not already done so herself - she ordered Beverly to spend the rest of the afternoon, resting. Or, at least reclining on a chaise lounge with her feet above her head, resting on multiple pillows. She also gave Beverly a hypospray to take care of her swelling feet.

Jean-Luc fussed about her. Beverly was reclining in their library, by the fireplace, with her feet duly raised. She eyed the Sarouk oriental rug on the floor, and sighed, remembering in the not-too-distant past when Jean-Luc would have rolled up that rug, moved the sofa and the lounge, and then they would have spent a morning or an evening in passionate dancing lessons.

In spite of the fact that they were still empathically connected thanks to the KesPrytt, it took Jean-Luc a while to recognize that Beverly was getting annoyed with his actions.

Mid fluffing a pillow, Jean-Luc stopped, as he finally sensed that the legendary Howard temper might rear its head.

"You want me to stop fussing, don't you, mon coeur?"

"My darling, would you?" The very way she over-enunciated each syllable was sufficient incentive for Jean-Luc to drop the pillow.