The cat was watching her. Kathryn held her coffee cup tightly, clutching it to her chest as she finished a message to her aide. She didn't need to go to the office. She'd be extraordinarily busy on Monday, but it would be all right.
Beverly hummed to herself as she took breakfast from the replicator. Her hair was tied back, exposing the long line of her neck. She was exquisitely beautiful, almost too much for words. Kathryn had watched her sleep, one of the benefits of being unable to fall asleep herself. She liked watching Beverly's face go slack, and the warmth of her limp fingers on her chest. For some reason, even though Kathryn was smaller, Beverly wound around her.
Da Vinci tilted his head, contemplating her from the counter. Kathryn didn't like him up there, but Beverly insisted the automated cleaning systems were more than enough to take care of the cat being on the counter. He knew Beverly was on his side. Kathryn could see it in his smug little face.
Beverly set a full coffee pot down in the centre of the table and returned to the replicator, still humming. She'd been up long before Kathryn and Kathryn was suspicious that she did all her work then, at oh-seven hundred, just so she could look done with everything when Kathryn woke up. She was evil, after all.
Beverly set a plate in front of her, then kissed her cheek, startling Kathryn away from her thoughts.
"Eat."
"Yes ma'am." French toast, piled high with butter and syrup tempted her as Beverly sat down. "Are we celebrating?"
Breakfast was usually a simple affair, scones and coffee or fruit, eggs and pastry. Neither of them put much work into it, and it had taken months for Kathryn to concede that she was capable of speaking during breakfast. She hadn't, not for years. She ate, drank her coffee and went to the bridge. There was no talking, no necessary connection when she'd been on Voyager. She'd ate breakfast because it was necessary. She'd needed food.
Now breakfast was an event, something she shared with Beverly. They didn't always share dinner, and lunch was difficult enough to find time for in either of their days. Breakfast was the only time they could count on having together. French toast was a special occasion food. As were waffles, omelettes and sweet rolls; Kathryn paid that much attention. She got in trouble when she didn't.
"We are." Beverly lifted her coffee mug in a mock toast. "It's been twenty-three days since we both had a day off."
"No-" Kathryn protested. That had to be wrong. They weren't that bad. Each of them usually managed to get a day off or two a week. They'd overlapped a few times, hadn't they? "Really?" She stared at her breakfast, watching butter melt into powdered sugar and slide lazily down the face of her french toast.
"I had to ask the computer to compare our schedules while you were in the shower. I couldn't remember either." Beverly took a bite, chewed and then grinned playfully. "Maybe we shouldn't even bother getting dressed."
"You might be able to convince me to go along with that." Kathryn's knife cut deep into her breakfast and steam rose from the delicate inside of the battered bread. "It might take a little negotiation."
Beverly smirked, reaching across the table to stroke the back of her hand. "I like negotiating with you."
"Your kind of negotiation is far outside ethical boundaries." Shaking her head, Kathryn threatened her with her fork. "And you know it."
"But you like it."
Kathryn paused, returning Beverly's smile as the heady idea that she was completely smitten settled pleasantly over her. "I like almost anything that has to do with you." She inclined her head, staring at Beverly's delicate hand instead of her smile. "I know how cloying that sounds but, it's completely true."
"You are a romantic." Beverly's laughter danced between them: soft and promising.
"Don't remind me. I have a reputation to maintain."
They made it all the way to thirteen hundred, which was the first entirely lazy day they'd had together since Kathryn moved in. Kathryn went over paperwork, read reports and replied to the endless list of correspondence she collected every time she walked away from a computer terminal. Beverly lay on the sofa, lazing reading her her head in Kathryn's lap and the cat sitting on the top of the sofa. Da Vinci watched them both, looking over them with patient eyes.
Beverly and the cat were both half-asleep, and the cat was staying awake better then she was. Putting aside her PADD, Kathryn stroked Beverly's forehead, brushing her hair to the side.
"Anything but work in there?" Beverly rolled up, turning her head so she could see Kathryn's eyes.
Wrinkling her nose, Kathryn shook her head slightly. "Not even a note from Phoebe."
Reaching up for Da Vinci's tail, Beverly toyed with the grey fluffy tip. The cat glared at her, then pulled his tail safely out of the way behind him. She smiled at him, then flicked her gaze back to Kathryn. "She's probably busy."
Nodding to her, Kathryn read through Beverly's optimism. Busy was also the word they used to describe Wesley. Wesley was busy; always so. He lost track of time and forgot how much time was passing for his mother. He was a lot like Phoebe that way. Phoebe knew how much time was passing for her, but she didn't pay a lot of attention to Earth.
"He'll write."
Beverly sat up, resting her head on Kathryn's shoulder instead. "I'd really like him to meet you."
Nothing she could say would make Wesley long absences any easier. Kathryn put down her PADD and put her arm around Beverly's waist. "Hey, it's not like I'm going away. I'll be here for years and years. Plenty of time for Wesley to meet me."
Beverly put both of her arms around Kathryn and held her close, embracing her tightly. The warmth of her was comforting; Beverly needed her in this moment and that was something Kathryn could be for her. She could be stable, strong and constant for her; someone who wouldn't leave her, as so many others had. Beverly's parents, Jack, her grandmother, even Wesley in his own way, had left Beverly alone.
"He'll like you."
Kathryn nuzzled the side of Beverly's neck, then pointed at the yellow eyes of Da Vinci, as he sat watching them. "You said that about the cat."
Cooing her surprise, Beverly looked at Da Vinci. "He likes you."
"He sits on your lap, sleeps on your side of the bed."
Clucking her tongue towards the cat, Beverly called him over. He eyed them both, with that cat suspicion. She continued to call him, coaxing him over and patting Kathryn's lap.
"He won't-"
"Shhhhh!" Beverly interrupted. "You'll scare him."
"So he does hate me!"
Beverly's elbow slammed playfully into Kathryn's side. "Hush."
The cat stretched languorously and rolled his head on his shoulders. Keeping his eyes on Beverly, he stalked towards them both, taking his time with his tail high in the air. He put one paw on Kathryn's lap, as if testing for traps. She held perfectly still, letting Beverly rub the maestro's head. A second paw rested on Kathryn's thigh, then the maestro purred, pleased with his head scratching.
Flexing out as he kneaded her leg, Da Vinci's sharp claws stung a little. Kathryn winced and Beverly quieted her with a kiss.
"Wait, let him settle. He'll only have his claws out for a moment."
Frowning slightly, Kathryn held still and waited for the cat to relax down into her lap. He stepped forward, adding a third and fourth foot until his full weight rested on Kathryn's lap.
"Rub his head, and he'll lie down. He does like you. You just move around more than he'd like you to."
"You're the one who fidgets."
Slowly lowering himself down onto Kathryn's lap, Da Vinci curled his feet beneath him, settling down like a loaf of bread on her lap. He sat perfectly still, rumbling a purr in his little chest. Almost afraid to touch him, lest his claws extend again, she brought her hand down very gently on his soft head.
"Don't be too timid. You'll annoy him and claws-"
The comm system beeped in the kitchen. Annoyed, Da Vinci opened his eyes and the purr stopped. Kathryn petted his head, just like she'd been told hundreds of times. She knew how to pet the cat, but she loved Beverly's explanation. There was something so endearing about the care she took with it, even though Kathryn had heard it all before.
"I'll get it." Beverly carefully left the sofa and headed for the kitchen. "Though it's probably for you."
The cat settled back down, decided that Kathryn was worthy of purring, and kept his claws away from her legs. Petting him was pleasant, rhythmic and soothing. When he wasn't in the way, or sharp, she did like the maestro. He certainly had no trouble living up to his name, and he provided balance to the apartment. He was very male; sometimes that was a good thing.
Beverly didn't return immediately. In fact, she was gone long enough that Kathryn picked up her PADD and went back to work. Beverly stole a glance across the computer screen as Admiral Jellico waited for his chief medical officer to arrive. She was running late, and Beverly could see the annoyance in the admiral's face. He'd never been patient; Beverly remembered that from his brief tour on the Enterprise. Though they'd seen each other in passing, and she'd heard of his promotion to admiral, Beverly had been giving him the benefit of the doubt. Jean-Luc barely seemed to age, growing more distinguished as time passed. Jellico had sharper lines on his face, and more grey in his hair. She spent half a moment wondering what he hung on his office wall now. Still pictures drawn by his son?
Jellico's CMO was an elegant Vulcan woman comfortably in her second century. Her long silver-black hair was neatly tied back; when she was closer to the screen, Beverly could see the faint green smudges beneath her eyes. It had been awhile since she'd slept. Even though her commanding officer was obviously harried, she entered Jellico's office with a quiet nod of apology. "My apologies, Admiral. My delay was unavoidable. "
"Doctor Crusher, this is my chief medical officer Doctor V'Konna."
"I hope I can be of assistance to you. I have found your work insightful over the years."
Beverly smiled at the screen. Working with a Vulcan again would be pleasant and efficient, Beverly had enjoyed an excellent working relationship with Doctor Selar. Jellico would be a headache, but V'Konna would be an ally and it seemed like she was going to need one.
"Thank you, Doctor."
"Forgive the lack of formalities, I have requested your assistance because I have isolated an unknown viral pathogen. The freighter SuHn'Nos arrived four days ago and failed to pass initial quarantine inspection. Of the initial crew of eleven Klingons, four have died and the remainder are all showing symptoms of a virulent and deadly viral infection. Biocontainment fields have been in constant use to prevent transmission, but we detected significant amounts of the virus on the consoles and surfaces of the freighter, indicating possible airborne vectors."
Frowning, Beverly kept her eyes on the V'Konna and ignored Jellico's harsh expression. "Klingon immune systems are some of more active in the Alpha Quadrant, something that would effect eleven of them so quickly-"
"May be a very grave threat." V'Konna hit the PADD in her hands, calling up her data and transmitting it to the viewscreen. "The virus manifests with a low grade fever, and replicates first in the kidneys, leading to renal failure and severe damage of the liver. An unrelated, and puzzling secondary symptom is the development of severe abnormal cataracts. After the destruction of the kidneys, the virus moves into the pulmonary tissues causing pneumonia and death. No anti-viral treatment has succeeded in stopping or slowing the development of the virus. Your assistance would be useful. I will transmit the data I have collected. It may be of use."
Jellico circled his desk, not looking at her as he spoke. "If it is acceptable to you, Doctor, I've cleared it for you and your team to travel on board the Enterprise when she leaves Earth in six hours. Doctor V'Konna and I agree that this virus needs to be studied so we know how to ensure containment in the future. Provided you have no objections, Doctor?"
Beverly tightened her hand on the counter but said nothing. Jellico was being as polite as he thought he needed to be. She held the rank of commander, but her position as head of Starfleet Medical meant that she demanded more respect than he wanted to give her. Working with him would be just as pleasant as it was years ago, at least now, no one she cared about was in danger.
"I'll prepare my team. I assume Captain Picard has given you the Enterprise's E.T.A.?"
"Twenty-eight hours."
V'Konna's expression remained neutral. "I anticipate one or two of the patients may still be alive then. Klingons are strong. They may be able to resist the virus."
"I'll see you then, good luck Doctor, Admiral. Crusher out."
Kidney failure, pulmonary oedema and blinding cataracts: nothing immediately sprang to mind. She'd have most of a day to go over what V'Konna had to send her, perhaps there would be something she could find. Some clue that would lead to the unraveling of the viral mystery. It would take time, several days travelling there and back, and a week, maybe more to study the transmission vectors and the protein coat of this virus.
That meant leaving Kathryn. Putting her excitement at the idea of a new challenge aside, Beverly crossed her arms over her chest. She'd be back soon, before Kathryn had time to let all the houseplants die of neglect and go to war with the cat.
To her great surprise, the cat was still contented on Kathryn's lap when she re-entered the living room. Da Vinci didn't even lift his head to watch her. Stroking him slowly, Kathryn actually seemed to be enjoying his presence.
"Did you know, the Breiddsvalsik Consortium has eight different ways of calculating the weight of grain? And," Kathryn paused, pursing her lips as her tone grew bitter and sarcastic, "they decided it was too centralised of the government to impose one system, so all eight are still used. To determine how much quadrotriticale they have to trade, I had to use seven conversion coefficients."
Beverly crouched down in front of her, smiling in sympathy. Rubbing Da Vinci's head, she looked up at Kathryn and delighted in her frustration. There was something so indescribably adorable about her when she wanted to throw her PADD across the room.
Kathryn set the PADD on the arm of the sofa and leaned down, careful not to dislodge the cat.
"You should know, if you're going away, I'll probably kill the plants."
"Deep Space Five has an outbreak of a rare corona-virus their CMO has never seen before." Beverly closed her hand on Kathryn's knee. "I'll be gone a week, maybe two."
"How long will the plants last without water?"
"You'll keep them alive." Beverly had complete faith that Kathryn was much more domestic than she ever gave herself credit for being. "Maestro will keep an eye on you. When he's hungry, take a look at the plants, see if they need to be fed too. Easy enough."
"Corona-virus?"
"Something that came in on a Klingon freighter. "
"I'm not the professional, but Klingons don't have a lot of plagues. Their immune systems are so violent."
"That's why I have to get a look at it. See how something like that came into existence, how it got on this particular freighter and how it's killing the crew."
Kathryn must have read it in her face that the crew was doomed. She didn't ask about them and instead covered Beverly's hand with hers. "Be careful."
"I am." Beverly sat up enough to put herself level with Kathryn's face. 'I have every reason in the universe to be."
"I like to think so."
Slinking off Kathryn's lap in a mild huff, Da Vinci settled himself on the window and ignored them both while Beverly packed her small suitcase and Kathryn helped her change. It mattered little to him that it took both of them being naked to help Beverly get dressed: he had a sunbeam and his fur was warm.
"Does the cat know to stay away from the baby before she makes him all sticky?" Tom rounded the table and kept an eye on the staring contest between the admiral's cat and his daughter.
Kathryn glanced at the animal, who was sitting far out of reach of Miral's chubby hands. "He's pretty quick when he wants to be. I'm sure he understands that she poses a direct threat to his dignity."
"I still can't believe you have one." B'Elanna stopped peering over Chakotay's shoulder and stood in the kitchen with a grin. "It's a cat."
"Didn't you once call cats the root of all evil and compare them to Q?"
Kathryn swirled her glass of wine and chuckled. "It's entirely possible."
For his part, Da Vinci stalked past Miral slowly, letting her chase his tempting plume of a tail with curious hands before he leapt to the top of the bookcase and watched her like a deposed monarch eyeing his throne.
Beverly would have found the whole exchange amusing, and she definitely would have been down there with Tom, playing with the baby. She'd missed having a girl. No part of Beverly regretted Wesley, but Kathryn knew she'd wanted a girl too. She'd grown up an only child and missed the loving torment that only a sibling could provide. Wesley had missed that too.
How was he going to feel about his mother marrying and starting a family again? It wasn't unheard of, lives were long and relationships changed with time. What felt right at twenty was entirely different at forty-five. Kathryn probably wouldn't have even contemplated Justin as anything more than a friend if she met him now, but she'd loved him once.
"They're fun you know." B'Elanna mused next to her. "They pull your hair and make your breasts swell up, ruin your sleep, spill sticky things on PADDs and parts of the wall you didn't even know could be sticky."
Longing for a child wasn't new, but the severity of her wanting surprised her. "Sounds incredible." Kathryn must have let too much into her voice because she drew a curious look from B'Elanna.
"Have you talked about children?" It was a bold question from the young woman who still had trouble with Kathryn's first name.
"I bet she has." Chakotay, of course, was insidious, stirring something sizzling on the stove. He claimed it was an old family recipe and he'd insisted on using the real kitchen. It smelt amazing, like toasting onions and fresh garlic.
Tom lifted his head and aimed Miral's hand in a wave towards Kathryn. "She'd take a playmate. If you and the good doctor wanted to-"
B'Elanna tossed one of Chakotay's peppers in her husband's direction; Tom laughed as he tossed it back.
"Can't tell me they wouldn't have cute kids."
Chakotay took the pepper from B'Elanna and began chopping it into neat sections. "Beverly's hair."
"The admiral's eyes." Tom added from the floor.
B'Elanna took the time to picture it. "You think so?"
"I think the Janeway Death Glare is definitely a dominant gene." Tom set the baby gently into her portable playpen and watched her eye the cat with wonder through the sides.
Chakotay passed Kathryn a spoon to try some of his dark, smoky sauce. "Here. Try this."
"While you decide what my future children will look like?"
"Hush." Chakotay handed her the spoon and returned to his peppers. "I bet you'll pick an incredible intelligent, attractive donor and settle down with the dear doctor to raise a whole set of baby Janeways."
B'Elanna patted her shoulder sympathetically and took the spoon Kathryn hadn't yet tried. She smiled and licked it clean. "You love Miral and Naomi. Why not have a few of your own?"
"We'll even babysit," Tom promised, leaning over the counter. "I'll volunteer my mom and dad too. Now that he's retired he just can't get enough of Miral."
"He'd love chasing a few more around the yard."
"A few?"
"A set." B'Elanna sipped her wine.
Tom stole her glass and downed the last of it. "A triad?"
"A quad?"
Kathryn put up her hand to stop the speculation. "Beverly and I are only dating."
"You have a cat," Chakotay reminded her. Dropping peppers into the pan, he grinned through the steam. "That's a commitment."
"A cat is a commitment?"
Tom shrugged, refilling B'Elanna's glass. "Well, sure. Whose cat is it?"
"Bever-" Kathryn stopped and realised she was trapped, "Ours."
B'Elanna smirked and grabbed the plates from the cupboard. "Three to one they get married before next year's reunion."
"Before Federation day," Tom upped the wager, "and five to one. What do you think, Captain?"
Chakotay might have been her only chance at an ally. Tom and B'Elanna were certainly united against her but Chakotay had been more rational. He was less likely to give her a hard time for not being married, or being about to be married, or- and the thought of it made her stomach skip- considering having children. Chakotay would step in and rescue her from her mutinous former officers.
Looking from Kathryn to their young friends, Chakotay shrugged, dimples clearly visible as he grinned. "I think it would be unfair of me to bet."
Tom chuckled and B'Elanna frowned mercilessly. "He has insider information."
Putting her hands up in surrender, Kathryn clutched her wine closer to her chest and retreated towards the table. "Not from me."
"He knows Beverly." Tom dropped his voice to a stage whisper, as if trying to prevent Kathryn from hearing. "We should leave her alone. Wouldn't want to ruin the surprise."
"Surprise?" Pausing as she set the cutlery on the table, B'Elanna put her hand on her hip and glared at her husband. "Being near-death in a shuttle race doesn't really count as a surprise."
"I don't think Beverly will need to threaten the admiral's life to marry her. She's classier than I am." Circling the table, Tom caught her up in his arms and moved in for a kiss.
Kathryn turned her head away, letting them have their moment. Meeting Chakotay's eyes, she found only acceptance. He liked Beverly, respected her intelligence and professionalism; more than that, he thought they were good together. How long had it been since anyone had told her that? Her friends had been few and far between after Justin and her father died. Kathryn threw herself into her work and once one was in the command track, it was not easy to make friends. She'd needed distance, something to protect herself from being as lost as she had been. Command training encouraged the space between first officer and crew. She could be friendly, but she was no one's friend.
Her mother wanted her to be happy, and if Mark made her happy, Gretchen was content. Phoebe thought he was boring, and she'd found Justin emotionally stunted and about as warm as an Andorian winter. It hadn't mattered if her family liked the men she loved. Her family wasn't marrying them, Kathryn was and she'd loved them.
Now something was different. Chakotay refilled her wine glass and nodded, smiling calmly. He already knew what she was going to do. "You two are going to be great parents."
Not would be, but going to be. He'd mapped out their fate for them. He loved her like a sister and he thought she should marry Beverly. So did her mother. Oddly enough, even Phoebe was on the side of marriage. After all, she already had an apartment, houseplants and a cat, surely marriage and children had to follow?
"Thank you." Kathryn took her seat, marvelling at the rich colours of dinner, bright red peppers and yellow saffron rice, as well as the equally tantalising smell of chilli and coriander. She had no idea what they were eating. She'd been too distracted by Miral to pay any attention at all to the menu Chakotay had explained.
"You've already been like a mother to me." B'Elanna's expression was remarkably soft, even sentimental. "Whenever I needed one, which is probably more often than I care to admit."
"Me too." Tom piped up, grinning wickedly as he fetched Miral and loaded her into a high chair so she could have her chance to toss Chakotay's beautifully prepared dinner all over the house. "You certainly scold like one."
Chakotay squeezed her shoulder, resting his warm hand against her until the tears in her eyes stopped stinging and threatening to run free down her face. "I'm sorry. We shouldn't invade your home and tell you what to do with your life."
Tom made faces at Miral while she settled in to her chair. "That's what family does."
B'Elanna was struggling with her own emotions and unlike her husband, she wasn't accustomed to laughing them away. "We like seeing you happy, Admiral."
She could have hugged them both, but getting up to do so would have embarrassed them. Kathryn took a deep breath and smiled, however tentatively. "If you're going to tease me about marriage and children we might need to rethink the two of you using my first name."
Chakotay lifted the serving spoon and began dishing out his creation. "It can be done. Though it did take me about a year to get used to it."
"I thought 'captain' was your first name." Tom quipped. "Admiral Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation. It's a bit of a mouthful, but you've always carried it off with style."
B'Elanna glared at him and Miral took a handful of the rice Chakotay had just given her and offered it mashed in her hand, as if showing her own toddler disapproval for the joke.
"Aren't you glad we're spending a whole week in dry-dock?" Chakotay concluded, taking his seat next to her. "Think of all the fun you'd be missing without us."
Kathryn settled in to the easy banter and the lazy, if constant, teasing she drew from her friends. As they ate, she remembered Beverly insisting that the most important part of a meal with friends was that it fed her on a deeper level than simple nutrition. She needed this, as emotional as it was, like she needed protein, or water. She needed their encouragement, their good humour and enthusiasm, most of all, she needed their affection and support. She'd denied it to herself, choosing distance over connection, and now, now it felt too incredible to be true.
Yet here they were: her haphazard, loving little family, and they were more than happy to welcome Beverly into their midst. That almost gave her a responsibility, didn't it? Beverly belonged here, with her, in this family. Even if it terrified her.
"I see your fifty and raise you another." Geordi pushed the chips forward, holding back a smile. Worf had already thrown in his cards, the big Klingon had no taste for bluffing. Jean-Luc had held out valiantly, but he'd been losing all night and Beverly knew he didn't have anything that could beat her full house, queens full of nines. Geordi either had it, or he was taunting her for old time's sake. Either way, she was in.
"Fifty." Beverly dropped the chips lazily into the pot. "And two hundred."
Jean-Luc laughed, shaking his head and leaning back in his chair. "Are you sure you haven't been sitting in on the Titan's poker game a little too often?"
"Admiral Nechayev frequently runs baccarat nights in a dark little bar near Starfleet headquarters. Would you believe admirals all bet like crazed Ferengi with nothing to lose?"
"Including yours?" Worf rumbled, nearly distracting Beverly from watching Geordi's face for a tell.
"My admiral," Beverly pursed her lips and smiled as good-naturedly as she could, "is a pool hustler, a bit of a card shark, and should never be believed about her prowess in a game if you can help it."
"She exaggerates?" Geordi fingered his chips, deciding if he wanted to risk it.
Smirking, Beverly set her cards face down on the table, ready to reveal them. "She plays naive. Does it with great skill, actually. If I had time, I'd pull her into a Shakespearean production."
Jean-Luc raised an eyebrow. "Portia?"
"Beatrice."
Laughing again, Jean-Luc turned his attention to the stand off between Beverly and Geordi. "The Enterprise hasn't been the same without you, Doctor."
Worf nodded his agreement and Geordi sighed, reaching for his chips.
"This isn't going to end well, is it Doc?"
"It would hardly be professional of me to give you a prognosis that negative."
"She means you are doomed," Worf elaborated for him.
"Thanks Worf." Geordi dropped in the four gold chips and reached for his cards. "Call."
Beverly flipped over her cards slowly, revealing first the two pair, then the final queen to seal it.
Laughing ruefully, Geordi turned over three kings and shook his head as he watched her rake in most of his chips. "That might do it for me. I can only lose so much before I don't have enough pride to look my staff in the eye in the morning."
"You could return to wearing your VISOR. That way you would be protected from the sight of their eyes." Worf's conclusion was elegant and delivered so drolly Beverly had to chuckle with Jean-Luc.
The mood had been light and easy with her old friends since she'd arrived. They'd been quick to work time in around their duty schedules. Between breakfasts, dinners and poker games, Beverly's three days on the Enterprise were so full that she had to be careful to spend enough time with her virus.
A predicted fatality of one hundred percent wasn't unheard of in such a small sample size, but it was unnerving. Her patients weren't refuges or children with compromised immune systems; this virus was killing healthy adults, Klingons in the peak of health, and it was doing it with astonishing speed. She was secretly glad whenever one of them had the time to steal her from her work. She needed the break. When she reached Deep Space Five, she'd live the virus until the protein coat was understood, the RNA unravelled and all its mysteries unlocked.
"Well, Doc, I can't say my credits have missed you, but, it's great to see you again."
"You too." She glanced around at the men she'd spent so many years with, all of them like the brothers she'd never had growing up. "All of you."
Worf stood, inclining his head towards the replicator. "Would anyone like anything?"
"I have a bottle of wine for the occasion." Jean-Luc stood and retreated to a corner of his quarters.
Outside his large windows stars flew past at warp and for a moment, Beverly was nostalgic for her own quarters, just down the corridor. Of course, they weren't hers anymore. Jean-Luc's new chief medical officer, Doctor sh'Duriya, had worked many years to earn her posting on the Enterprise and it was hers. Beverly had no intention of returning to space on a semi-permanent basis unless it involved Admiral Janeway getting a ship of her own.
She had been thinking about children more than she wanted to admit. This Enterprise had undergone several refits over the years, and with the war over, a few children had returned to their families. Not enough for secondary school plays and Captain Picard Day, but enough that the Enterprise was home to families. Somehow that made it more complete.
Jean-Luc handed her a glass of wine and the four of them raised their glasses in toast. "To returning friends."
"Don't suppose there's any chance of a rendezvous with the Titan on our course?"
Jean-Luc eyed his wine, watching the legs on the glass with keen interest. "Not this time, I'm afraid. She's out on the far reaches again, exploring." His trace of jealousy made Geordi chuckle.
"I think I remember exploring. Back before we were the only ship in the quadrant that can ferry important diplomats and presidential envoys."
"Affairs of state are not as exciting as new worlds." Worf agreed, but tempered it. "A lack of excitement is often a good thing."
All of their lives had been too exciting during the war. There were even days Beverly envied Kathryn's disconnection from the conflict with the Dominion. The Delta Quadrant had its own share of catastrophes, but the loss of life and friends in the war had been staggering.
"That's not terribly Klingon of you, Mr. Worf."
"Even a Klingon appreciates having time to reflect on what has passed. If we were constantly at war, when would we write songs of valour and glory?" Worf nodded again to Beverly and lifted his glass. His dark eyes turned curious. "How is Admiral Janeway?"
Beverly wouldn't have guessed that Worf would be the one to bring up Kathryn, but it saved her the trouble. For a moment, she wondered if Jean-Luc would be upset. He had loved her once, years ago, but they'd never pursued it. Their friendship was too important to either of them to risk a relationship, and the necessary spark hadn't been there. Perhaps once she'd known how he felt, what she wanted in a relationship had already been changing. When Kathryn had stumbled into her life by trying to avoid her annual physical, she'd been immediately intrigued by her. Utterly fascinated in a way she hadn't felt since Jack.
She'd been smitten, consumed, even enthralled by Kathryn's every action. She made room in her life, moulded her actions around Kathryn, and shared herself in a way she'd avoided for so many years.
"She's learning to like the cat."
Geordi and Worf both winced slightly. Spot had left her mark on them, and neither of them had forgiven her for her actions.
Jean-Luc was less prejudiced against felines and smiled over his deep red wine. "You converted her then?"
"She's not home enough for a dog, and I don't want one enough to be the one who takes care of it. Nothing against dogs, really. Da Vinci's social enough to be nearly canine, and he doesn't need to be taken out in the San Francisco rain."
"Do you think you'll be staying there?" Geordi picked up the chips and stacked them away. The poker set had been a going-away present from Will to Data, and the chips had been used ever since Data's untimely death. Geordi even occasionally wore Data's antique green visor when he missed his dear friend.
"You could ask for an apartment somewhere else. Egypt, where it's dry, or Italy, where the winters are milder and the summers are beautiful."
"Or France?"
Jean-Luc's expression remained forcibly neutral. "I'd never be partial to my homeland."
"Of course not."
Worf finished his wine. The glass was remarkably small in his huge hands. "Russia is very cold. You might not like the weather much more than San Francisco, unless you like the biting snow."
"Transporting out of one time zone into another always exhausts me. Leaving sunshine for darkness or darkness for dawn confuses my internal clock." Beverly sipped her wine and sighed. "Too much time on starships."
The Enterprise did have an enviable rhythm. She kept her own time, and as long as you were on board, you were part of that bubble. It was very comfortable, and it had been a wonderful fifteen years.
"We're discussing Chile or the coast of Peru. Something a little quieter-"
"But still close to the same time zone." Geordi beamed. "Smart."
"Quieter because you're settling down or quieter for other reasons?" Jean-Luc was much harder to read when he wasn't trying to keep his poker face. As a diplomat, he was far more skilled than at cards. If he suspected, as Deanna immediately had, that settling down meant Kathryn, a dog and children, he was less forward about his suspicions.
"I have only been to the South American continent for wilderness survival training. I assume you would not live deep in the Amazon rainforest."
Beverly smiled gratefully and took a seat on the sofa. "No, something much closer to the transport hub in case of emergencies. It is nice to be able to walk to work each day, but San Francisco is so full of Starfleet."
"Admiral Janeway's not trying to convince you to move to her home region?" Jean-Luc paused, trying to remember where Kathryn was from, "Illinois, was it?"
"Indiana." Beverly finished the last of her wine and watched lazily as Jean-Luc tipped more into her glass. He took the sofa next to her while Worf and Geordi took chairs. "It's close to her heart, and I know she loved growing up there, but I don't know if I'm the old farmhouse type. To be fair, Kathryn really isn't either. Take away her replicator and the state of the art computer system and we're both a little lost. I love the idea of being able to walk out onto the beach or be part of a little village instead of a city."
The three men around her contemplated her in silence. Will would have brought it up, but these were quieter men. Jean-Luc and Worf shared a look that passed Geordi's notice.
"A sense of community is important when you are building something new." Worf was taunting her now. Did she want to take the bait? Telling these men, her dear friends, that she intended to marry Kathryn was making a promise to herself that she would make it happen.
What could she tell them? That she wanted Kathryn but didn't dare propose because Kathryn's response to another engagement might be less than enthusiastic. It wouldn't be Beverly that she rejected, and Beverly was sure enough of their relationship that she knew Kathryn would say yes, even if it clawed at her soul.
She stared into her glass, watching the reflections of starlines in the calm red surface. "Kathryn's been engaged twice, and each time it's ended badly for her."
"Loss does not mean we stop trying to find what we want from the universe." Worf's voice was firm; he understood better than anyone what it was to lose someone he loved. He'd lost two mates, and still approached life, even his love-life, according to Geordi's gossip about Worf and the new chief of security, with Klingon gusto. "You will have better luck."
Jean-Luc rested his hand firmly on her shoulder, calming her with a touch. "If you and Kathryn have decided you wish to spend the rest of your lives together, you will certainly have our support. No matter how we can offer it."
Geordi piped up. "I love a good wedding."
"If you wish a 'good' wedding, I suggest the traditional Klingon ceremony. Better wardrobe."
"You'd look wonderful in red leather." Jean-Luc's eyes glinted in amusement. "Admiral Janeway as well."
"I'll keep that in mind." Beverly drank her wine, letting it warm her throat. How and where weren't important. If she was going to ask Kathryn to marry her, she knew what both of them would think of most was the when. Maybe it was better to wait: to hold off on asking until they were within quick reach of someone to marry them and a set of witnesses. There was something to be said for not tempting fate when one wanted to beg her favour.
