Part 4
"Don't talk to your mother like…"Picard stiffens, recognizing his words as his chest deflates. Huffing, he looks Wesley square in the eyes, regaining his composure. "Wesley, we're investigating this thoroughly. In the interim, we're doing everything we can to make Beverly comfortable."
Grimacing, Beverly resists the urge to reach for her son (no, her son) and exhales audibly. "I'm sorry, Wesley. I wish we could explain. I'm so sorry for what happened to your mother. I know this must be awful."
Averting his eyes, Wesley folds his arms across his chest.
Turning to Picard, Beverly lays a hand on his elbow, a deep frown set across her face. "I'll go."
Shaking his head, Picard puts his hand over hers. "No, that's alright. Wes, come sit down. Let's just all take a moment to relax."
About to make her way back to the table, Beverly is interrupted by a tiny pair of hands tugging at the satin fabric of her robe around her knees. Looking down, Beverly can't help but smile at the bright blue eyes gazing up at her.
"Mama, Spot play!" Felisa takes the small plush orange cat in her hands and runs it up Beverly's arms, pretending the cat is walking along Beverly's hand and arm.
Unable to stifle her grin, Beverly looks in confusion at Picard. "Spot? Like Data's Spot?"
Smirking, Picard bobs his head, watching Felisa attempt to engage Beverly in a game of make-belief in the middle of an intense adult conversation. "Felisa adores Data's cat. She begged us to get her a cat. We…well, I, would not permit a cat. So, you got her a toy cat, which she proceeded to call 'Spot'."
A tiny smile escaping her lips, Beverly runs her hand through the girl's shoulder-length strawberry-blond hair. "That's cute."
Unable to afford the time to indulge in the toddler's game, Picard redirects her. "Felisa, it's breakfast time. Go finish your porridge. We can't be late for school."
"Spot play later?" Felisa asks sweetly, looking up at Beverly hopefully.
"Later, sweetie," agrees Beverly easily, finally letting go of her head and watching the toddler retreat back to the kitchen table.
"How can you do this?" demands Wesley incredulously, pointing at the toddler resuming her seat at the table. "She's calling you 'mama'! Felisa thinks this…woman is her mother!"
Inhaling sharply, Picard lays a hand on Wesley's shoulder. "Wes, it's complicated. We're doing the best we can…"
"No," shouts Wesley, shrugging Picard off, glowering at the older man accusingly. "This is ridiculous! Don't you even care? Felisa's already lost her mother. She's not going to lose her again."
Breath catching in her throat, Beverly chokes back a sob, her hand covering her heart.
Face stony, Picard bows his head.
Shaking his head disapprovingly, Wes looks dejectedly between Beverly and Picard. "I don't know where she came from. But, sooner or later we'll find out, and she'll have to be returned. I don't want to have to explain to my baby sister why her mother's leaving her…again."
Tears cascading down her cheeks, Beverly folds her arms across her cheeks, suddenly freezing.
Swallowing the hard lump in his throat, Picard attempts to contain the hot tears forming in his eyes. "I understand, Wesley. We don't want that, either."
Watching the exchange between Jean-Luc and her son (no, dammit, he's not her son) breaks Beverly's heart, and she finds herself glancing to the kitchen table, where Felisa is merrily consuming her breakfast, oblivious to the tension. "I'm…I'm going to go."
"No," barks Picard, forceful, voice thick with emotion. Taking a calming breath, he attempts to regain his composure, offering Beverly a weak smile. "No. Please, stay. Have something to eat, get dressed. You…uh…you can find clothes in my closet." Turning back to Wesley, Picard attempts to brighten. "You can help us. I have Riker, Data and Geordi looking into the mystery of how Beverly arrived in our universe. Get ready, and join Geordi and Data in Engineering at eight-hundred."
Wordlessly, Wes picks up the PADD he had dropped on the ground and retreats back to his bedroom.
Watching Wesley disappear, Beverly lays a hand on Jean-Luc's forearm, frowning in concern. "Jean-Luc, he's just breaking inside. I shouldn't be here."
"It's alright," Jean-Luc says as reassuringly as possible, silently wondering to himself how he'll make it through the day.
PAGE BREAK
"She's in primary care when the captain is on duty," explains Deanna, handing Beverly a mug of tea.
"But, who looks after her when he's not available? Wes?" Beverly inquires, following Deanna over to the sofa in Deanna's living room.
"Wes is at the Academy. He's just between terms right now, so he has a few weeks off," relays Deanna, slipping onto the sofa.
Mulling everything over, Beverly lowers herself onto the sofa next to Deanna. "Just like my Wes."
"I know this is terribly confusing and difficult," admits Deanna, setting her mug of hot chocolate on the table in front of her.
"Deanna," Beverly starts, almost smiling to herself. "I don't understand. This is…literally out of this world. And, yet, it feels so…natural. I feel like…I belong. I don't get it…I…feel like I know Felisa. I think I…I was walking her to her primary care room this morning, and I thought nothing of it. It was…as if I had done it two hundred times."
Half-smiling empathetically, Deanna bobs her head. "I imagine you can imagine…yourself in the other Beverly's place. I'm sure you feel great affection for Felisa, and Wes, and probably for the captain, as well."
"I do", admits Beverly solemnly, her face falling. "I…I just wish I knew what to do."
"Just take it one day at a time. Don't get ahead of yourself," cautions Deanna, patting Beverly's hand.
"I'm afraid…we'll get too close," confesses Beverly grimly, averting her eyes.
"Try to keep a distance," Deanna recommends, squeezing Beverly's hand. "We'll get this all sorted out."
Frowning, Beverly bows her head. "Yeah."
* PAGE BREAK***
Picard pads quietly into his daughter's room, illuminated softly by a tiny bedside lamp. Felisa is sleeping soundly, tucked between her sheets and clutching her plush cat, "Spot". Jean-Luc can't mask the bittersweet smile that forms on his lips at the sight of Beverly curled up beside Felisa in the tiny bed, asleep with a PADD draped across her abdomen. To him, it looks as if Beverly had been reading Felisa a story, and both of them had fallen into a peaceful slumber. Licking his dry lips, Jean-Luc has to ward off the stirrings of grief and summon his strength to walk over to the bed, gathering Beverly's PADD and gently rousing her.
"I'm sorry, Beverly," whispers Jean-Luc apologetically. "That must have been one very effective bed time story."
Slowly sitting up, Beverly half-smiling, her cheeks warm. "Sorry. Fell asleep."
"Thank you for putting Felisa to bed," replies Jean-Luc graciously, offering Beverly his hand. "Let's find you a more comfortable bed, hmm?"
Smiling as he helps her to her feet, Beverly nods, mindful not to wake Felisa. "Thank you."
Jean-Luc leads her through to his bedroom. "I'm just going to retrieve some night clothes, and then the room is all yours."
Beverly traces his path to the closet, curious for another look at the mysterious clothing items she had seen there that morning. "Jean-Luc, can I ask…why do you have…your wife's old clothes lying around?"
Halting in the middle of the closet, Jean-Luc stiffens.
"I'm sorry," Beverly rushes to apologize, reaching for 'her' uniforms on the one side of the closet. "I mean, what's the value in keeping these around? Some of these are maternity clothes. Felisa is nearly three years-old!"
Taking the large blue maternity uniform from Beverly's hand, Picard's face is set in stone. "Please, don't…I don't want to move them."
"Why?" presses Beverly. "Jean-Luc, she died six months ago."
"I can't move anything," offers Jean-Luc by way of an explanation, his voice agitated and stressed. "Nothing is touched. Everything remains…as is."
Realization slowly dawning on her, Beverly's lips part. "You can't part with it, because it was hers. Parting with it would be letting go."
Averting his eyes, Jean-Luc doesn't want her to see the fresh tears brimming in his eyes.
"Jean-Luc," Beverly lays her hands on his back and shoulders as he attempts to hide his obvious embarrassment. ""Hey, it's okay. I'm sorry. I understand. You lost your wife, I can completely relate."
Letting out a ragged breath, Jean-Luc rotates, extending the larger garment in his hands to her. "She wasn't the only one I lost."