Boys
Synopsis: 2nd story in the "Generations" series. Post-Generations. Sequel for "Progeny". Just how skilful of a negotiator is Picard?
Rating: T
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to CBS, its parents and affiliates. Just taking the characters out for a jaunt around the galaxy, I warrant they will be returned in the same condition I borrowed them.
"I was helping Paul wash up in the washroom. I was only gone a minute and he was up on the sofa, trying to erect a fort out of the cushions and blanket," Troi explains guiltily, one hand on three year-old Paul's shoulder as Doctor Crusher examines the other three year-old boy on the biobed.
Smirking, Crusher runs the diagnostic wand of the tricorder over her three year-old boy's left arm, shaking her head. "I don't doubt you for a second. He's fast."
"Beverly, I am so sorry," cries Troi, studying the boy sobbing quietly on the biobed as Crusher makes quick work of knitting his arm.
"Oh, Deanna, don't worry about it," shrugs Beverly, carefully knitting her son's small arm. "This isn't your fault. I have a little dare devil on my hands who needs to learn to stop crawling all over furniture and everything else he can get his hands on. One day you're going to get seriously hurt, Maurice, and Mama's not going to be able to fix you so easily."
Bowing his head, the boy sniffles sheepishly.
"Mama, is Maurice's arm all better?" Paul asks quietly, stepping up to the biobed as Beverly sets her tricorder down.
Tired, Beverly offers her other son a weary smile. Her three year-old twins could not be more different. While identical in appearance, Maurice and Paul have drastically different personalities and temperaments, the result being that both of them continually keep her on her toes. Maurice had been born first, refusing to let his little brother be first for anything. Stubborn, head-strong, confident and bold, Maurice is in every sense of the word his father's son. Maurice idolizes Jean-Luc, constantly seeks his attention and wants to do everything his father does. Conversely, Paul is more reserved. Maurice does all the talking for Paul. Quiet, contemplative and shy, Paul is unquestionably her boy.
"Yes, baby, Maurice's arm is all fixed now." Planting a kiss to Maurice's crown, Beverly pinches his cheek. "Now, Mister Picard, you apologize to Counselor Troi for climbing on her sofa, falling off and scaring her half to death."
Trying to contain an infinitesimal smile, Maurice rotates to address Troi. "Sorry, Counselor. I promise I won't do it again."
Breathing a sigh of relief that little Maurice Picard is not seriously maimed, Troi nods. "I'm just glad you're okay, sweetie."
Beverly lifts her son off the biobed and pats his backside affectionately. "Go on. You boys go to my office and stay out of trouble. I'll be there in a minute."
Watching the identical twins retreat through Sickbay, Troi tries to relax.
"Relax, Deanna. He's fine. This actually happens all the time," Beverly assures her friend, circumnavigating the biobed.
"Did it have to happen on my watch?" chuckles Deanna.
Rolling her eyes, Beverly folds her arms over her chest. "Oh, Deanna, I'm in trouble. These boys will be the death of me."
Laughing good-naturally, Deanna glances down at Beverly's slightly protruding belly covered mostly by her lab coat. "You could have one more in less than four months."
Rolling her eyes again, Beverly's hand drops to her belly. "Four sons? That'll surely put me in my grave. If that's the case, I'll gladly offer to have you adopt one of them. Hell, you can have two of them. Actually, just take Jean-Luc off my hands, that will help."
Chuckling loudly, Deanna shakes her head. "No, thank you. I've got my hands full with Will. Besides, I think you manage all these men quite well."
Grinning, Beverly nods. "Alright. But, let me know if you change your mind, I may consider putting Maurice up for adoption."
"Ha, maybe I'll just stick with babysitting," suggests Troi, following Beverly through to her office. "It'll give Will some practice. I do hope to have our own at some point."
"Oh, I hope you do!" Encourages Beverly, entering her office to find Maurice rocking in her office chair behind her desk and Paul standing behind the desk by his brother impatiently.
"Mama, can we go see…" Maurice starts.
Putting a hand up to halt her son, Beverly motions for him to vacate the chair. "No. Your father's working. You're going to go back with Counselor Troi. But, I promise I won't be long."
"Mama, Maurice said Wes is coming home," Paul says quietly, reaching for Beverly's hand.
"Yes, baby, very soon. For a short visit," answers Beverly squeezing her son's tiny hand. "I've got some work to finish up. Go with Counselor Troi."
"Can we draw a picture for Wes for when he comes home?" Paul asks Troi with a massive grin.
"That's a great idea, honey." Deanna takes each of the boy's hands in her own and steers them out of the office.
"I won't be long, Deanna. Thank you," Beverly calls, sliding into her chair behind the desk.
PAGE BREAK
Beverly's maternal sense had always been strong. Since the twins had been born over three years ago, she had been accustomed to being acutely aware of their physical and mental distress. Normally a heavy sleeper, since they had been born, she has awoken at the slightest cough, sniffle, the moment either of their feet touch the floor. Now that she is pregnant with her fourth child, her hormones have heightened her already augmented maternal instincts, kicked her into over-drive. Bolting up in bed, Beverly already knows something is awry with Paul. She tosses aside the blankets over an undisturbed slumbering Jean-Luc and climbs out of bed, abandoning her slippers and robe that she would normally don over her nightgown.
She races down the hall and into the twins' room, where the boys have two small beds on opposite ends of the room. The room is illuminated with holographic stars, planetoids and moons across the ceiling. She finds Paul upright in bed, sobbing, hot tears streaming down red cheeks. She runs over to the bed where she discovers the small boy has vomited in his bed, now embarrassed and scared.
"Oh, sweetie. What's wrong?" Beverly asks, perching on the end of the bed, extending her arms to pull the boy into her arms.
Wailing, Paul buries his head of light brown hair into her chest and Beverly runs her hand over his head soothingly.
Maurice jumps up from his own bed and crosses the room, having long since been roused by his brother. "He threw up all over, Mama."
"Shsh, it's okay, honey." Beverly kisses Paul's crown. "Upset tummy, huh, baby? We'll get you all sorted out. Don't worry."
"You're not mad?" Paul whispers, briefly lifting his head to peek at her face.
"Of course not, sweetie. It's just an accident. Come on. We'll get you some clean pyjamas and then we'll see what all this is about." Beverly releases the boy and goes over to the dresser to locate a clean pair of pyjamas.
"What's wrong?" Jean-Luc inquires, padding across the twins' room, where Paul is sitting in his bed clutching an old plush sheep while Maurice is sitting beside him appearing concerned and Beverly walks over to the bed.
"Sorry, love," Beverly sighs, perching on the bed next to the boys. "Paul's got a fever and an upset stomach. I think it's the virus that we brought back yesterday from the colony."
Face falling, Picard crossing over to the bed. "You inoculated everyone…"
"It's fine," Beverly assures him, putting a hand up in defence as Paul shimmies out of his pyjamas. "We did. He must have picked it up before we could get the vaccine into him. The strain is harmless. It's like a bad case of influenza."
Pursing his lips, Picard urges Maurice off of the bed as Beverly changes Paul's pyjamas. "Maurice, go back to your own bed. Best to stay away from your brother for a while."
"He's already been exposed, Jean-Luc," Beverly reminds her husband, drawing Paul into her arms. "Come on, baby. We'll get you something to make that tummy feel better."
As Beverly rises to her feet with Paul in her arms, Paul nuzzles her neck. "Wanna sleep with you."
"I'll clean up your bed, Cadet," Jean-Luc offers, stripping the sheets of Paul's bed.
"I wanna sleep in your bed, too! No fair!" Maurice cries, rushing up to Beverly and tugging on her nightgown.
Sighing, Beverly shakes her head wearily. "Alright, loves. Go on. I'm going to get my med-kit."
Raising a brow, Jean-Luc whips around to fix his wife with a questioning look.
Rolling her eyes, Beverly shrugs. "He's sick, and I want to get some sleep tonight."
Half-smiling, Picard relents. As usual, it is hard to argue with his wife. More often than not, she is right.
PAGE BREAK
Jean-Luc re-enters his room to find his sons tucked between the blankets in his bed, his wife pressing a hypospray to Paul's neck.
"There. You should feel better soon, sweetie," Beverly tells the boy encouragingly, kissing his temple.
Jean-Luc walks toward the bed with a glass of water and damp cloth in his hands as requested by Beverly.
Whipping around at the sound of footfalls, Beverly smiles graciously at her husband. "Thank you, love."
"Papa, read us a story, please," requests Maurice hopefully, huddled close under the covers to his identical twin.
Accepting the proffered items, Beverly rotates to wipe Paul's face with the cool damp cloth.
Climbing into the bed beside Maurice, Picard shakes his head. "It's time to close your eyes and go to sleep, Cadet."
"Please, Papa! I'm not sleepy now," Maurice begs, curling up beside Jean-Luc, snaking his arm through Jean-Luc's.
After Paul takes a sip of the water, Beverly sets the glass on the nightstand and slips into the bed beside him. The fevered, exhausted toddler nestles up close to her, resting his head against her chest.
Exhaling audibly, Jean-Luc ruffles his son's light brown locks, half exasperated and half amused. "Very well. How about I tell you a short story instead?"
"Okay," relents Maurice, eyes heavy, stifling a yawn. "Tell us how you and Mama met."
"That," Jean-Luc laughs, sharing a look with Beverly. "is not a short story."
PAGE BREAK
Striding over to the sofa with Maurice cradled against her hip, Beverly cannot help but smile to herself at the sight of her husband collapsed on the sofa, her other son curled on top of him fast asleep.
"I wanna sit with Papa," argues Maurice, spotting his brother sleeping on top of their slumbering father on the sofa and instantly becoming jealous. Maurice is still learning how to share, particularly when it comes to their parents.
"Shsh," warns Beverly in a hushed whisper. "Papa needs his rest. You can snuggle here with me."
Stirring, Picard's eyes flicker open and he becomes aware of the light weight of his toddler on his chest. "Beverl…What time is it?"
"Shsh…." coos Beverly, lowering herself into the armchair with Maurice. "Just relax."
"Got to..get to the bridge," Picard grumbles, tilting his head upward.
"Love, you're in no condition. I've already called Riker. It's taken care of," Beverly assures him. Within the course of ten hours, the virus that had inflicted Paul had also manifested itself in Maurice and Jean-Luc, the result being that Beverly now finds herself with a cabin-full of sick, fussy, irritable boys.
"I can't miss my shift," argues Jean-Luc, thoroughly agitated. "You had no right to call Riker."
Shrugging, Beverly decides to indulge him, half exhausted and half intrigued. "Fine. If you think you're well enough, by all means."
Rolling his eyes, Picard shifts Paul's sleeping form onto the sofa, careful not to rouse him. "Thank you, Doctor." Picard rights himself and then rises to his feet. "I think I know well enough to…"
Beverly watches him carefully as Picard is consumed with vertigo and fatigue, his face white.
Taking a steadying breath, Picard lowers himself back to the sofa next to his slumbering son. "Perhaps I..I will call in sick today."
Attempting in vain to hide her smug smirk of satisfaction, Beverly shifts Maurice onto the chair and stands off the chair. "Wise decision, dear. I'll get you some tea, and something for that headache."
Watching his wife cross to the kitchen, Picard's lips curl into a small smile. "How'd you know I have a headache?"
"I can see it in your eyes," Beverly replies simply, ordering an herbal tea (not his preferred Earl Grey) from the replicator.
Maurice runs over to the sofa and climbs into Jean-Luc's lap as Beverly returns with a mug of tea and hypospray.
Examining the proffered drink, Picard frowns. "I don't want this rubbish."
"You'll drink it and whatever else I put in front of you," orders Beverly mildly, pressing the hypo to his neck.
Grimacing, Picard's shoulders slump.
"Doctor's orders. We wouldn't want to set a bad example for the boys, would we?" Beverly raises a brow to her husband, but a smile plays in the corner of her lips. It is extremely rare for Picard to be ill, but out of all her patents, she finds him to definitively be the worst. She would take her two toddlers over him any day, but his stubbornness and neediness endears her, as well.
Smiling in concession, Jean-Luc leans forward to peck her lips chastely. "Aye, Doctor."
PAGE BREAK
"Can I get you anything?" Beverly inquires, her hand drifting to her belly as she strides toward the sofa where Jean-Luc is curled up with a PADD.
Glancing up to see his wife rubbing her expanding midsection, Jean-Luc's lips form a small smile. "No, thank you. Come, sit. You've been on your feet all day."
Collapsing onto the sofa beside him, Beverly shrugs. "No different than in Sickbay. I'd be on my feet all day regardless of the patients."
Leaning over, Jean-Luc rubs her shoulders. "The boys have been quite demanding with this bug, not their usual selves."
"So has their father," teases Beverly as Jean-Luc's thumbs work through the knots in her shoulders.
"I apologize if I haven't been…the most cooperative," Jean-Luc replies honestly, smiling.
Moaning as the pressure begins to release in her neck, Beverly closes her eyes. "That's okay, dear. It was kind of like having three toddlers today."
"Is that so?" Leaning down, Jean-Luc nips her neck playfully.
Giggling, Beverly whips around, Jean-Luc pulling her tight.
Jean-Luc kisses her tenderly, massaging her neck. "I hope you're rethinking that now."
Laying her forehead against his, Beverly nods. "I take it back. You may be obstinate sometimes, but I love you."
Running a hand through her hair, Jean-Luc appraises her face. "You're exhausted. The boys wear you out."
Raising a brow, Beverly leans back. "Jean-Luc, I'm the Chief Medical Officer of your ship, I've got twin three year-old boys, another baby en route. And, I'm not thirty years-old anymore. Yes, I'm tired."
Inhaling sharply, Jean-Luc's other hand falls to cover her belly. "What are we going to do?"
"We can't take it back," jests Beverly. "You want a big family."
Jean-Luc had wanted a family. After his brother and young nephew had been tragically killed before their time and Picard had visited the Nexus, he had ruminated on his life's decisions of command and legacy. After the ship was destroyed at Veridian III, Picard had finally confessed his feelings to Beverly, initiating a relationship that rapidly developed into marriage. Desperately desiring his own children to share with Beverly, he had asked that they try to have a baby immediately after they were married, anxious to share the experience with the woman he had loved for decades. It had not taken any convincing on Beverly's part, her delighting in the opportunity to create a family with Jean-Luc after so many years apart. They had been shocked to discover they were having twins, but entirely thrilled when Beverly delivered two healthy boys three years ago. A year ago, Jean-Luc had asked if they could try for another baby, desiring to increase their already exceptional family. While Beverly had been content with her twin boys and Wesley, secretly she longed for a little girl. And, she had reasoned, if Jean-Luc wanted one more child, she just couldn't turn down his plea. Six months ago they had conceived their third child, and they been been elated to learn their family would grow.
"I do," beams Jean-Luc, rubbing circles across her belly. "We're on to Number Three. I'd say my negotiation skills speak for themselves."
Chuckling, Beverly motions as if she is going to swat his head. "Well, this is it, Picard. We're done. After Picard Number Three is born, it's contraceptive implants."
"Oh, come now, love," chuckles Jean-Luc into her ear, caressing her belly. "Let's not close any doors."
Sighing, Beverly shakes her head. "Can I please just deliver this child?"
Turning earnest, Jean-Luc gazes into her eyes. "I am in awe of you, you know. You continually amaze me. You are the most fantastic wife and mother, and I love you endlessly."
Smiling warmly, Beverly kisses him softly. "Thank you. You're an amazing father, and I'm reminded every day how much I love you."
Grinning into her lips, Jean-Luc reaches for her hip. "I'm glad. Just bear that in mind during the negotiations."
Rolling her eyes, Beverly draws back. "This one had better be a girl. I don't think I can take any more testosterone in this cabin. "
Laughing, Jean-Luc envelopes Beverly into his arms. "Oh, I don't know, my love. I think a little girl would be the death of me. A miniature Beverly, a clone of you?"
Biting back her retort, Beverly simply nods. He is simply clueless, obvious to how she manages all three of her sons and her impossible husband. Given it all; however, she wouldn't trade it for the universe.