Chapter 9

"Come in man, have a seat." Counsellor Duncan Fraser said brightly, his voice a soft Scottish brogue. "Can I get you a drink or anything?"

"Um, no I'm fine." Reg said nervously and sat down.

The new ships counsellor was tall with dark curly hair, tinged with grey. Reg guessed he was probably in his mid-forties. He'd seen him around the ship, he seemed friendly and relaxed, approachable, but Reg couldn't help but fidget.

"Well," he said taking a seat opposite Reg, "I'm not going to lie to you. I've read all your notes and Counsellor Troi has filled me in on your situation."

Reg shifted nervously in his seat. "Uh, okay."

"I know you only came to this appointment to stop your missus nagging you."

"No, it's not like that," Reg smiled, "well, she's worried but she doesn't nag. Not at all."

"Why do you think she's worried?"

"I think, well I know that I haven't been the same since I got back and… Um, I haven't, I mean. I haven't been talking to her, not about what happened and, things are, well, they aren't the same." "Well that was coherent." Reg thought sarcastically.

"How's your love life?" the dark haired Scotsman asked bluntly and leaned back in his seat with his hands behind his head and crossed his feet.

Reg choked, "Excuse me?"

"You're a newlywed and you used the words 'I haven't' three times in your last statement. You think your wife is worried, because you haven't and things aren't the same was what you told me, but I know that wasn't exactly what you meant."

Reg felt a little exposed and a more than a little embarrassed. To think he'd thought Deanna had an unfair advantage during their sessions. Taryn had told him she found him easy to read in terms of mannerisms but she said she liked looking at him and it gave her plenty of practice. She also had a way of reading things into what he said while he was rambling nervously. Perhaps it was for the best that most people stopped listening early on. "I…I think she's going to ask for an annulment." he admitted. "I wouldn't blame her if she did, I've been a waste of space since I got back."

"An annulment?" Fraser asked, "Not a divorce? Can I take it you haven't consummated your marriage?"

"That, sounds like something my mother would say but, no we haven't." Reg admitted.

"I hear you're expecting a couple of bairns."

"What? Oh, yes we're having twins." Reg smiled, "She's fifteen weeks along now."

"I also hear she isn't having an easy time of it."

"She hasn't fainted in a few days, she seems to be over the worst of the morning sickness and the sensitivity to light, but she's still feeling tired all the time. It's not easy for her because she's used to sleeping less than three hours a night." Reg explained, "She's okay, I mean there aren't any complications but she's had early pregnancy symptoms from three species to contend with. She's been finding not being allowed to block her pheromone production hard too."

"Oh, your wife is the scientist working on the planet. She's lovely, very funny, I met her the other day. Sorry, I'm still learning who everyone is."

"She is lovely." Reg agreed suspiciously. She'd been getting a lot of attention from men since she stopped holding back her pheromones on the recommendation of one of the specialists contacted by The Doctor and Beverly, something she wasn't comfortable with or encouraging and Reg definitely wasn't wild about. It certainly wasn't easy walking along a corridor on the Enterprise and have every male who wasn't Vulcan turn and look at her. He hated the way she was being objectified and ogled in front of him. He was glad he was immune to her chemical charms having shared in Pon farr with her but he still found her as irresistible as ever and was jealous as hell. If he'd still been susceptible he'd be on report on a daily basis for decking some jerk or other that tried it on while ignoring her wedding ring, the fact she was obviously pregnant and that she was standing next to her husband.

"Early pregnancy is rarely conducive to romance." the counsellor reasoned.

"It's not that, it's… it's me." Reg admitted reluctantly. "I want to, I mean, as you said, we're newly-weds and…" Reg rubbed his face with his hand. "We're still…affectionate and intimate, she's teaching me neuro-pressure and we… we often… bathe together... and…she doesn't complain or put pressure on me but…" Reg exhaled, it felt good finally talking about this and he doubted he could ever discuss it with Deanna. "I just… can't… no matter how hard I try or how much I want to."

Fraser sat forward, rested his elbows on his knees and interlocked his fingers. "It sounds to me like you're trying too hard. Your missus has the right idea, she's trying to get you to relax. You're already under stress from your recent experiences and on top of that you're getting into a vicious cycle of performance anxiety. You're taut as a bowstring, anyone can spot that. No man can function sexually under the tension and anxiety you're currently experiencing and if they say they can, they're a liar."

Reg turned his gaze to the floor and thought about it. He was probably right.

"I'd like to talk to one of the doctors about medicating you," he held up his hand at Reg's protests, "just in the short term to get you through the next few weeks until we break orbit and then we can step things down on the trip back to Earth. I think it's a better option than relieving you of duty. You strike me as a man who needs occupation. But this needs to be addressed, you're stretched so far you're going to snap and no one wants to see that happen."

"That was the…one of the worst things down there, there was nothing to do after they barred me from the lab."

"I know you've been discussing what happened on the planet with Counsellor Troi, and we will come back to it, but I'd like to explore a different avenue today." Fraser intoned. "You mentioned your mother." Reg tensed even further, feeling the muscles in his neck clench. "That 'consummate' was the kind of thing she'd say. Is she old fashioned? Traditional in her ideals?"

"Very much so." Reg said.

"How did she take the news that you got married to your pregnant green lover the day after you returned to the ship?"

"I haven't told her… I've told my Dad."

"Your parents are divorced?" Fraser asked. Reg nodded, "What did your Dad say?"

"He's thrilled that he's going to be a grandfather, he always wanted more kids I think, but Mother wasn't… She didn't want to interrupt her career with another maternity leave. I, well she made no secret that I was only conceived to carry on the legacy and that she only married Dad to get his name. My grandfather was Captain of the USS Endeavour."

"Oh, you're one of those Barclays." Fraser mused.

"The name wasn't a clue?" Reg smiled. "It's not something I brag about, I mean I'm proud I'm his grandson but…He was Grandpa, he was always my hero anyway."

"It's a lot to live up to."

"Yes and no really. Dad was an officer but he resigned just after I was born. There was never any pressure from the Barclay side. My mother was the one who expected, well, demanded great things from me and was bitterly disappointed. She didn't want me to study at Daystrom, and then when I did go to the Academy she wanted me to be a tactical or a command officer, she hates that I went into engineering. She always wanted me to be exactly what I'm not."

"So you feel you were a disappointment to her? Despite all you've accomplished, being assigned to the Flag ship, your work with Pathfinder, Operation Watson?"

Reg nodded, "She consistently tells me I'm not the son she wanted. Right from when I was little she wanted me to be braver, more confident and self-assured, more like her, but… I wanted it too, but it was more about fitting in, being liked." Reg explained.

"But you wanted her approval?" Fraser asked.

"Of course, but she's never found me worthy of it. I've always left her wanting."

"So you created an environment on the holodeck where you could be the person she wanted you to be as well as feeling accepted and respected."

"I suppose so, but I've never thought of it like that." Reg replied thoughtfully.

"Do you feel your wife has similar expectations of you?"

"No, not at all, she wants me to be happy and content and look after myself, which I'm currently failing miserably at but she doesn't want me to change." Reg smiled, "For some reason I can't fathom she loves me despite my neuroses, phobias and recurrent holo-addiction."

"And yet you think she wants out of your marriage?"

"It's more that I'm afraid of that. I don't really feel worthy of her… on pretty much any level and, well since my last session with Deanna I've talked to her about all the guilt I've been bottling up and, it wasn't easy for her to hear but she gets it, she's very understanding but then, it's part of her field of expertise."

"I understood she was a cyberneticist?"

"She is but she specialises in the social, cognitive and psychological aspects of artificial and inorganic life. She holds a second master's degree in psychosocial science and has just submitted her thesis proposal for her doctorate."

"That's a unique corner of the market, I wish I'd thought of it myself." Fraser said wryly. "She sounds remarkable."

"She is," Reg confirmed, "I don't know what I'd d…do if she left me."

"You need to ask her. Shine some light on this spectre hanging over you and see where you stand." Fraser recommended.

"I… I just dropped all the stuff about the androids and the deaths on her, I really can't…" Reg fidgeted with his hands. "I'm just being… she even, when I told her I wanted to talk to her about the session with Deanna she said it was okay as long as I didn't want a divorce. She says other things too, she…" He forced a smile. "But I can't help feeling, well as you say she's lovely and it's not like she'd have far to look if she wanted to get it elsewhere."

"She doesn't strike me as the type for that." Fraser commented.

"She isn't… I…i…it's all in my head, I know that… I…"

"Clear off and talk to her. That's your homework before our next session. I'll get together with the docs and see what we can do and I'll see you… same time, day after tomorrow?"

"Okay." Reg replied rising to his feet.

"If you need anything in the meantime, give me a shout," the Scotsman said as he stood, "and I know you've heard it a million times but…"

"Try to relax." Reg continued tiredly, "Thank you Counsellor."

"Call me Duncan, I'm not big on formality off the Bridge."

She jumped when he walked into the bedroom and squealed, but then she was in her underwear and wasn't expecting him.

"What are you doing back here, I thought you were going straight to the lab after your session?" He dropped to his knees in front of her and put his hands on her waist. "What are you doing?"

"Worshipping you. You look beautiful, like a pagan fertility idol. A green goddess."

"You do realise a Green Goddess is a 20th century British fire engine?" She smiled and clasped her hands behind his neck.

"Then it must have been the most alluring fire tender that ever existed."

"What are you after?" she asked suspiciously. "Have you done something naughty?"

"Only the usual," he admitted and pulled her closer, his face against her bulge, "worrying and not tellin…"

She gasped, "Did you feel that?" she smiled.

"Did someone just kick me in the face?" he asked with a smile.

"I think so, ooh…" She grabbed his hand and moved it to the opposite side of her tummy. "Feel that? I think that's the other one."

"Wow, I think we have a couple of prize fighters in there. I thought it was too early to feel them kicking?"

"So did I. But Dr Crusher did say things may not follow the usual timescales." she said, her face beaming with joy, "I'm so glad you felt the first kick too." She leant over and kissed him, a soft lingering kiss. "Now what have you been fretting about this time, Prat?"

He smiled, Prat had become her pet name for him whenever he was fussing about nothing, teasing her or generally being daft although he was still trying to work out what the other two epithets she used for him were. It was certainly preferable to what she called Data when he started doubting himself, she called him a berk. Reg had been shocked when he looked up the origins of that insult, but Taryn had confirmed that she knew exactly what it meant. It was derived from Berkshire Hunt, rhyming slang for a particularly nasty term for female genitalia. He stood up and sat on the bed, watching her dress.

"I've, well you know that we haven't… That I've, well I've been a limp dick haven't I?"

She pulled a copper coloured sleeveless top on and gave him a look. "Reg. You need to relax and give it time. I know it's a physiological thing and nothing to do with how you feel about me or what you want and it in no way diminishes you as a man." she told him and sat on the bed beside him to put on her socks.

"That's, well it's great that you understand but… Well, we aren't properly married are we, technically? I know I must be a disappointment and I wouldn't blame you if you wanted an annulment."

"Let me put it this way. You declared that I was your mate in front of witnesses on the Bortas, then I declared you as my life-mate to Edara in front of Tuvok. That's legally binding as a marriage under Orion law. Then we went through Pon farr together and formed a mating bond. We may not have had a ceremony but we're probably married under Vulcan law as well and we have a surfeit of evidence for that one." She rubbed her rounded tummy. "Captain Picard married us under Federation law, and while my family and your Dad aren't thrilled that we eloped, I'm fairly sure it counts." She stood and pulled up her black trousers. They were baggy combat style pants, she found them comfortable and liked all the pockets to put tools and padds in, he found that adorable. "I don't think we could be more 'technically' married if we tried. Besides, you were up for it on our wedding night as I recall as well as a couple of times since, it's not your fault we were up till five in the morning with you holding my hair back while I knelt at the toilet bringing up rainbows."

"Yes, but…"

"But nothing. I'm your wife. I'm not going to wriggle out of it via some archaic loophole and neither are you." she assured him as she slipped on a long sleeved black cardigan that fell to just above the knee. She stepped towards him and he parted his knees to pull her close and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "Besides, they've already etched Professor T Barclay on the sign for my office door."

"You have your own office?" He looked up at her. "Wait a minute," Reg thought, "could someone be reporting for duty?"

"I do, with a chair and a desk and a door that locks and a blind on the window…" she said slowly and seductively.

"Sounds cozy. Are you allowed visitors? If so I hope that desk is sturdy."

"If it isn't I'll requisition a stronger one." she replied and kissed him keenly.

"Hallelujah!" thought Reg, "Commodore Barclay is standing to attention!"

"Is that a phaser in your pocket Commander, or are you just happy to see me?" Taryn whispered between kisses. A corny line, but she could make an injector valve maintenance manual sound sexy, to him anyway.

He rolled back on to the bed with her in his arms, kissing and whispering endearments. He was going to take this slowly, he wanted to savour every sensation as he made gentle, languid love to his beautiful fertile wife rather than the desperate, frantic blur of passion that their previous unions had been. He rolled on top of her taking his weight on his knees and arms, careful not to squash her swollen belly. He shrugged off his jacket and his jersey with her help then helped her slip off her cardigan. She grabbed the collar of his t-shirt, twisted it around her hand and pulled him into a desperate kiss. Okay, maybe slow and languid wasn't on the menu, not a problem. He struggled with the remainder of his clothing with one hand, his weight on the other.

Why did the uniforms have to have so many damn layers? The one-piece jumpsuits with the zip at the front were much more conducive to this sort of thing and he knew for a fact Taryn found them hot. There were issues though, male officers tended to forgo underwear as they would get epic wedgies and kept snagging the old family jewels in the zipper. It had only happened to him once on the Zhukov when they called Battle Stations while he was in the head. Not an easy injury to explain to a giggling female nurse when you're shy and handover to the CMO wasn't a barrel of laughs either. 'Moran has fifty percent plasma burns, Riordan has a basilar skull fracture and Barclay needs his scrotum cutting out of his jumpsuit.' The doctor had sucked his teeth and told him to 'hang in there son'. It even ended up on the casualty report as if it wasn't embarrassing enough. Also hirsute officers tended to get the zip snarled up with chest hair and it was extremely embarrassing peeing in a shuttlepod with the front of your uniform open to the groin, particularly with female passengers or crew. He'd never been brave enough to ask how they managed to go but he suspected they had a different attachment on their urine disposal bags, maybe that gravy boat looking thing that he replicated by mistake once?

No, this was not the best train of thought right now, the last thing he wanted was to frighten the Commodore when he'd been AWOL so long. Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, boobies and buttocks, boobies and buttocks. He gave up with his clothes and started on hers. Her pants were stretchy at the top and should be easier to negotiate one handed. He got as far as getting them down over the bulge when her hand gripped at his back and the other the nape of his neck as she kissed him hungrily. She was certainly hot to trot but his hand was now stuck between his hip and hers as she'd wrapped her leg around his. However they were still for the most part fully clothed and this wasn't exactly the suave seduction he'd had in his mind during the last nine weeks but he certainly wasn't about to complain.

He shrieked as he felt a heavy blow between his shoulder blades accompanied by searing pain, like razors digging into his back and a panicked mewling sound. "What the..? Ratio!"

"Ow, what happened?" Taryn said, looking at her arm that was just caressing her husband's back and was now covered in claw marks that were dripping green blood.

"I don't know, he just attacked me from nowhere." Reg explained. "Are you okay?" he asked looking at her forearm.

"But he loves you, why… He must have fallen off the shelf again. He did it the other day while I was napping but he hit the bed not me. I think it's his depth perception, or that the shelf is the same colour as the wall and he can't see it properly. Let me see your back." He turned and sat on the bed next to her, "Oh…Um…I think we should get you to sickbay." Taryn said without even looking under his blue shirt. "That's… you look like a flagellant, you really need medical attention."

He would have protested but Commodore Barclay was now 'at ease' anyway. He glared at Horatio. Reg didn't care how much the cat loved sitting on the shelf over their bed, they never put anything on it and it was clearly dangerous for their one-eyed cat and them. What if he'd fallen on the bumps while she was asleep? What if it frightened her into early labour? No, he was taking it down at the earliest opportunity and the cat was getting a manicure whether he liked it or not. Typical, Horatio 'Moment Killer' Nelson strikes again and when the Commodore was likely to be present and correct again was anyone's guess.

"Reg?" Taryn had her arm wrapped in a towel. "C'mon." He looked up at her forlornly. His back hurt and he felt miserable, he didn't want to go to sick bay and explain why he'd got scratches down his back. Everyone would make jokes about green animal women. It wasn't even like she had nails like talons, she kept them short so they weren't in the way when she was working. He hated the jokes. She'd let some people get away with it, people she considered friends like The Doctor, Dan, Data and Geordi but their jokes were never cruel or spiteful. He'd never realised just how nasty people could be and it wasn't just behind her back. It was to her face. He didn't want to be put on meds either, he just wanted to take Taryn and Ratio, jump in a shuttlecraft and fly at top speed away from this planet, although after what had just happened Horatio was optional, the jealous prick. He felt his breath hitch and tears well in his eyes. She crouched in front of him and grasped his hand then tapped her communicator. "Prior… Barclay to Sickbay." She gave Reg a guilty smile.

"Go ahead Taryn." Dr Crusher replied.

"Is anyone free to pop down to our quarters please?"

"I'll be there in a minute, what's wrong?"

"Nothing a standard medkit can't handle. It's just… I think we need a housecall."

"No problem, I'm on my way."

"You didn't have to… I." Reg sniffed, "The new guy, Duncan want's to start me on medication."

"That might not be the worst idea." Taryn said, rubbing his arm. "I know you're worried about getting hooked but…"

"I just..." He leant against her shoulder and sobbed.

"I'm putting you on the next transport to Earth." Taryn stated, cradling his head gently.

"No, I'm not leaving you here." he argued.

"It's not open for debate." The doorbell chimed, "Come in."

Dr Crusher looked at them and shook her head. "I haven't seen injuries like these since Spot went to live with you Reg."

"Check her arm first." Reg said quietly.

"I never thought I'd see you attacked by a cat," Beverly told Reg as she treated Taryn's arm, "I thought you had the touch."

"We weren't attacked exactly." Taryn explained. "Ratio keeps falling off the shelf up there and…"

"Your arm, his back. Say no more." Dr Crusher smirked.

Reg broke into wracking sobs "Please don't send me away. I know I'm useless and I can't get it up but…"

"I don't know what to do for the best." Taryn bleated and started crying herself. "This place is sucking the life out of you and I can't bear it."

"What if something happened to you or the babies and I wasn't here? I'd never forgive myself." he wept. "We just felt them kick, I can't leave."

"I don't want you to go, but…" Beverly finished treating her arm and Taryn grabbed him and held him, careful not to hurt his injured back. Beverly scanned her with a tricorder.

"They're kicking alright, looks like they're having a party in there." Beverly told them then sat behind him and lifted his shirt. "Reg, how long have you been this depressed?" she asked as she began to treat his injuries.

"Since I was stuck on the planet." He sniffed, "I've been getting counselling, and I had my first session with Duncan today. He's… well he's easy to talk to and he picked up on things I've never talked about before but…" he broke into wracking sobs again.

"He thinks he should be medicated." Taryn whispered.

Beverly nodded. "The Doctor and I knew you were anxious and having a rough time dealing with the trauma of all that happened but I had no idea things had got this bad."

"Doctor, can you stay with him for a short while? I need to sort something out."

"Of course, I'm not really on duty anyway."

Taryn kissed his temple, "I won't be long. I promise." he grabbed her hand as she stood and she kissed his. "I'll be right back." He watched her grab her communicator from the bedside table and go.

"You look like you've been given the cat o' nine tails, I thought they cleared you at that court martial." she said as she worked on his back with a dermal regenerator. "Reg, why didn't you say you were having problems in the bedroom?" Beverly asked gently. "If not me then The Doctor?"

"I don't know, I…I…" He sniffed. "Taryn's been trying to help me relax and been really understanding and… finally it was all systems go and Ratio fell on us."

"More Catus than Coitus Interruptus eh?" Beverly joked. "Getting your back ripped to shreds by a frightened cat is bound to put anyone off their stroke."

Reg laughed through his tears. "I really don't want to start taking, what sedatives, anti-depressants? I can't work if I'm stoned."

"There are plenty of options with modern pharmacology. It's not like we prescribe lithium anymore."

"Lithium?" his eyes widened.

"Uh huh. Full body cold water immersion, electroconvulsive therapy, lobotomies and spinning depressed patients around to re-align the brain contents were all prescribed treatments and I'm talking the 19th and 20th century here not the dark ages." she explained. "Medicine has come a long way." He knew what she was doing, his wife was an expert. She was spinning a yarn to distract him. "How are you sleeping?" she asked.

"I'm not," he replied, "not really."

"You've lost weight, how's your appetite." She asked him as she knelt in front of him and scanned him with her tricorder. He just shook his head and chewed nervously at his fingers. He didn't like where this line of questioning was going. Taryn had been trying to lure him to sickbay for a check-up for the last week, ever since his anxiety attack in the complex. The doctor there had expressed concern over his hormone levels and told him to visit his usual physician, but the man was notorious for not updating patient records and Reg hoped to get away without seeing any of the doctors on the Enterprise. He'd even gone with Taryn for her pre-natal check-up with The Doctor and prearranged with Dan to call part way through with an emergency so he had an excuse to dash off as soon as they were done. He knew what would happen, they would relieve him of duty and pack him off on the next ship heading vaguely in the direction of Earth. He had a feeling the moment Dr Crusher checked that tricorder the nice bedside manner was going to evaporate and the CMO was about to give him the carpeting of his life, not to mention the coating Taryn was going to give him subsequently.

Beverly shook her head as she looked at the tricorder. "Your cortisol, adrenalin and norepinephrine levels are sky high. Your blood pressure is 160 over 100."

"Well, I was just making out." he argued.

"Who with, Species 8472?" Beverly snapped. "Because there's no way kissing your wife caused these hormone levels," he opened his mouth to speak but she cut him off. "and before you blame her pheromones I know you aren't affected anymore. Your immune system is so low I'm amazed you haven't picked up a virus or infection with all the passing ships we've had through here. How long have you had stomach pain when you eat?"

"A month or s… Wait, how do you know about that?" he asked incredulously.

"You have a gastric ulcer. I'm amazed they didn't spot it when you keeled over last week."

"They… sort of did." he admitted reluctantly. "I was supposed to call in to sickbay. But they didn't say when." he defended.

"Does Taryn know about this?"

"She knows I'm not really eating but I asked her to get me some water so she didn't hear everything the doctor said." he admitted guiltily.

"I'd relieve you of duty but I know you too well. You'd just carry on anyway as always." She shook her head.

"I'm just fixing holograms, I'm not… and Dan is watching me like a hawk, and no, I'm not being paranoid. He told me Taryn asked him to keep an eye on me." It was true, she did, but Dan was easily bought and was working as a double agent.

"You can't keep this up. Physically you're running on fumes." Beverly warned him. "If you keep going the way you are you're heading for a myocardial infarction or a cerebrovascular accident or both." she sighed and stood up. "I can treat the symptoms but… I know you rushed in to getting married, you're going to be a father of two in six months or so and that's a lot of stress to handle…"

"No," he exhaled sharply and smiled. "No it's not that, I mean, I know things looked weird when you got here but, we're really happy and I'm really excited, thrilled, I was the one that was broody and… we thought it wouldn't happen without tests and interventions and it's so wonderful even though it happened quicker than we expected." he swallowed. "I need to get them away from this place. What if they take her? I mean, they'd have two generations to…to…" He stopped and tried to calm his breathing. "She thinks shipping me out will make things better, but it won't, she'll get hurt on Level Six or…I know she's been going to the Andromeda Complex without telling me. What if they don't let her go? I… Our wedding rings are tritanium, do you know why? I chose tritanium because there isn't any in the Andromeda Complex so I could find her if they took her."

"You never told me that." Taryn said, leaning on the doorframe. "I thought it was a cute engineer thing."

"How long have you been there?" Reg asked nervously.

"Stress hormones and blood pressure sky high, immune system in the toilet, stomach ulcer, risk of heart attack, stroke or both. Did I miss anything else?" she asked him.

"The bit where said just how much I love you." he said gazing up at her forlornly.

"Oh, no. You're not wriggling out of this one by being adorable. A stomach ulcer?"

"I… well, I thought it was just indigestion." he argued weakly.

"Bollocks you did, you're in the medical database more often than a first year medical student." Taryn said angrily. "You're lucky I'd already drawn those conclusions anyway, apart from the stomach ulcer, I knew your digestion was a mess but… you're a bloody idiot."

"Wait a minute." he snapped and stood on the bed to look at the shelf. "Did you rig the shelf so the cat would fall? Did you manipulate me into seeing a doctor?" he ran his hand along it. Then jumped off the bed, ran into the next room and returned with a tricorder then started scanning the shelf and the wall. Something wasn't right about this. Duncan sent him straight to her. Why was she in her underwear? She was already in the shower when he went to his appointment. She kept him on top too, and they'd never had to wrestle to get undressed, it was usually like their clothes evaporated. Beverly just happens to be working a shift in sickbay during her maternity leave? Probably because The Doctor is a terrible liar. This was a set up.

"Of course I didn't rig the shelf you prat." Taryn declared, then watched as he chased Ratio to scan him too. "What are you doing? Do you think I made the cat materialise over the bed? Who do you think I am, the Q?" Taryn asked.

"I think I should call Duncan." Beverly said.

"He's already on his way. Sit down." Taryn ordered him, snatching the tricorder from his hand. "I said sit!" He dropped onto the bed. "Never mind relieved of duty, you're going to end up in a psychiatric unit." She sat next to him on the bed and put her arms around him. "You need a break from this place and so do I, but we're stuck here so we'll have to make do. I've booked Holodeck 3 for the next three days starting tomorrow. How do you fancy a dirty weekend somewhere. You can choose the location." She looked up as Duncan entered the room.

"I…I…can't…it's… I'm a holo-addict. Three days is just too risky. What if I can't stop again?"

"I think a possible relapse of your holo-addiction is the least of your worries at this point Reg." Duncan advised him. "It's a lot easier to treat than the psychotic break your heading for."

"Besides, it's just a location. It's not going to be an interactive fantasy world. It'll be just you and me, practising for our honeymoon." Taryn smiled.

"Believe me in a few months' time you'll be begging for five minutes alone together, let alone three days."

"I'll babysit one evening if you like." Taryn suggested. "I know child care is an issue with Yves currently being the only person on board under twenty-two. I have experience, after Geoff left for the Academy Haydn was technically chief babysitter, but I did all the work."

"I'll take you up on that." Beverly smiled. "Now let's get that ulcer treated in Sickbay and you two can start making plans."

"You'd better change your shirt first" Taryn advised him. "You look like you've been shagging Edara."

In the next instalment:

Taryn's holodeck shagfest doesn't go quite as planned.