Just after 0600 was akin to arriving at dawn. Wesley Crusher sighed and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as he strode through the airlock. Captain Larkuhnis of the USS Xuende, the heavy cruiser he'd caught a ride on from Earth, had taken Admiral Brand's suggestion to heart and made him serve a duty shift in engineering. Gamma shift, of course, for each of the six days it had taken him to get there.
Solun, the secondary engineer, had released him with a mild compliment. Wesley's work had been 'adequate.' Admittedly, he hadn't tried very hard, and very little had been asked of him. The Xuende had no actual problems to solve and his scrubbing of the deuterium intake valves had been just mind numbing enough not to be frustrating.
It had been comforting to be on a starship again, even if he was buried in engineering. The Xuende reminded him of the Enterprise and for a while, he'd almost been happy again. Then the sense of strangulation had settled in again and he'd been unable to shake it. Working alone in engineering had at least kept him from venting his exasperation to others.
The idea that he'd soon be facing everyone from the Enterprise, including his pregnant mother, was firmly lodged in his stomach like a stone. His mother would hopefully be too distracted with the wedding to pay much attention to him. Wesley had put serious thought into skipping the whole event. He was busy with school, the wedding had been arranged with little notice and his mother already thought he wasn't going to make it.
Wesley didn't really know why he was there when he could have more comfortably been back on Earth however, once he stepped through the airlock, he was standing on Deep Space Nine. As he looked around, he recognized the the load bearing struts along the Promenade from his unit on Cardassian engineering and architecture.
He knew he needed to report to the quartermaster for temporary quarters. He had debated heading to the Enterprise, but staying on the station felt easier. When he reached the quartermaster's office, a smiling Bajoran woman with a desk full of padds assigned him to the habitat ring.
"You're lucky the Cardassians made the station so big," she said. "Most of the Enterprise crew is staying here, plus our usual visitors, travelers and station personnel. We're a pretty popular place this week. Here you go, level eight, section twenty-four. Managed to get you a window on the scenic side."
Surprised by her kindness, Wesley smiled slowly. "Thanks," he said, heading towards the door.
"We don't get a lot of cadets out here," she said, pulling her chair back into her desk and resuming her work. "Big trip away from the center of the Federation means you should see some of this end of the universe before you go back home."
"Yeah, I guess." Perhaps she was right. He'd read about Bajor, but this was his first visit to the sector. He'd read about the station, read about the Demilitarized Zone, even read about second marriages but he lacked personal experience with all of them.
Wesley walked through the station, ignoring the people he passed. Finding his quarters without thinking and dropping his bag on the floor, he asked the computer to set the alarm. He looked around the grey room. It was darker than the Enterprise, much darker than the dorms at the Academy, but he didn't mind it.
Looking up at the dull ceiling, Wesley reminded himself that he needed to sleep. He'd feel like an idiot yawning during the ceremony and he didn't want to embarrass his mother or the captain. Rolling onto his side, he stared at the painting on the wall. It was Bajoran, a reprint of an old wood block print. He'd skipped the class that explained how the printing method had survived the Cardassian occupation, but he'd passed the test.
Wesley always passed his tests. At least, he always had in the past. This semester was a tough one, his professors were beginning to notice his absences and he was getting outside the realm of things he could fake without reading the book.
The traveling bag on the floor was full of books and homework assignments he could have completed on the way to Deep Space Nine. He hadn't bothered. Contemplating sleep for another few minutes, Wesley gave up before his countdown ended.
"Computer, location of Doctor Crusher?" Wesley asked, pulling off his uniform.
"Habitat ring, level fourteen, section nine."
He paused and wondered if he even wanted to bet. "And Captain Picard?"
"Habitat ring, level fourteen, section nine."
The problem wasn't Captain Picard. The captain was, as Lieutenant Yar had once said, the person in the universe she would most choose to be like. Wesley agreed. Picard wasn't infallible, he wasn't his father, but he was intelligent. Picard was dedicated, caring, protective, noble; a literal textbook example of everything a captain should be.
On top of that, Picard loved his mother and she was happy. Mom smiled more in her letters home, even laughed occasionally when Picard added something from the other side of the room. Wesley was even starting to get used to the fact that the background of each message his mother wrote him had Picard's art on the wall, behind her head. The captain was in every part of her life.
The sonic shower snapped on obediently as he walked into it. If he couldn't sleep, he could at least change and eat. There had to be plenty of food on the promenade Wesley couldn't get on Earth.
One hand ran along her shoulder, sliding across her collarbone. It slipped down, cupping the side of her breast. The other phantom hand ran down her stomach, grabbing her hip. The thumb caressed her inner thigh, sliding up and making Beverly gasp in surprise.
Her gasp drew her out of her dream, shocking her back into consciousness. Sitting up, Beverly had her hand on her shoulder where the phantom had been.
Jean-Luc's voice was an abrupt shock after the silence of her dream. "Good morning," he said, remarkably poised considering how intoxicated he'd been the night before. The bed shifted beneath her as his weight settled in.
Trying to shake the dream and banish the tightness between her legs, she smiled at him. "You bounce back well," Beverly teased.
"I haven't forgotten everything from my misspent youth," he reminded her, shaking his head slowly.
Wrapping her arms around the back of his neck, Beverly pulled him closer. "You were singing in the corridor with Will."
Chuckling dryly in the back of his throat, Jean-Luc leaned in to kiss her cheek. His lips trailed down towards her jawline and made a shiver run up the back of her neck. Running her fingers down his bare back, she watched his eyes widen.
"How much time do we have before the transport arrives?"
Craning his neck to see the time readout on the replicator, Jean-Luc let his hand wander down towards her breast. Beverly nudged it up with her own, easing her swollen breast into his palm.
"Fifty-three minutes," he answered without changing the tone of his voice.
A whimper and a hand on his thigh brought his lips to hers. He paused, nose touching her cheek. "You were beautiful last night," he said, kissing her upper lip, then settling his lips just over hers. "Though at this moment, my memory doesn't do you justice."
Feeling the hairs of his thigh brush against her palm, Beverly slid her hand up towards his lean stomach. "You just like my hair wild."
"I like working out the tangles," he said, moving his hand to her hair. His strong fingers rubbed against her scalp, then ran through to the ends. Kissing him made the rush of wanting from the dream surge back. The hand on her breast tightened, more real than the dream. The rush of the need washed over her, settling hot in the pit of her stomach.
The skin of Jean-Luc's hand was rough against her ribs as his hand slipped down. When it returned to her breast she sighed contentedly. Kissing him, she lost herself in his lips. "It's not nearly enough time."
Laughing suddenly, he dropped his hands to her lap. "We quite literally have the rest of our lives," he promised. Dragging him down on top of her, she shifted her hips. Encouraging the heat of him against her thigh, she cheekily grabbed his ass.
Jean-Luc's raised eyebrow came with a taunting kiss that sizzled all the way down. Parting her legs, Beverly welcomed his hips lower. All he had on were his boxers; the panties she'd slept in were thin and increasingly wet. Kissing him harder, she titled her hips up into his thigh and ground herself against him.
"Must have been an incredible dream," he teased, following her thigh with his hand. Easing her panties off, his fingers nearly brushed her clit. Nipping his lip in retaliation, Beverly gasped when he slid a finger into her. It was fast, almost too much so, and her sigh became a groan in her throat.
Wanting more than just his hand, her hand fumbled down his stomach, pulling his penis free from his shorts. Moving her hips, Beverly made room to shift him down. Waiting for the kiss that gave her permission, she lightly squeezed him. His breath caught in his throat. Finding her lips urgently, he moved her hand and guided himself in.
Rushing through her, one desire was quenched only to reveal the burning need for more. It wasn't enough simply to have him inside of her and she rolled her hips up and into him. Gasping as his penis slid deeper, Beverly bent her knee, raising her left leg up further. His short sigh vanished into her neck.
One arm slipped beneath her, holding her chest firmly against him. The hand that dug into her back was strong and sure, his arm firm against her side. One of the things she loved most about making love with Jean-Luc was his arms, both the way they felt against her skin and the strength of them surrounding her.
He took his time, moving slowly within her. Dragging her fingernails down his back made him kiss her that much more firmly.
"Wait," he whispered.
Groaning in disappointment, Beverly forgave him when his tongue entered her mouth. He dragged the kiss out, barely moving at all until he was ready. The delay made it that much better when he pulled out halfway and thrust back in, deeper than before. Trying to pull him deeper still, she felt her clit rub against his skin.
He smiled at her gasp, squeezing her breast before turning his attention to the friction between them. Speed made her head start to swim, but when she started to tense, he slowed. Panting into his mouth as Jean-Luc kissed her, she dug her fingers into his arm. He grabbed her shoulder, then his hand slid down. One flick of his thumb over her clit made her arch beneath him.
The pressure there left and the slow, deep stirring within her started to gain speed. Squeezing closer to him, clutching him that much tighter, she begged for more. Pressing her hand back into the bed, Jean-Luc pulled himself up. Changing the angle made her head pulse out of sync with her heart.
His chest returned to hers, bringing their skin together. Beverly was already falling. The next few needy thrusts sent her further. Her cry into his ear brought a feral smile to his lips. He came within a kiss, breaking it to grunt his release. Her slow orgasm washed over her like a lazy tide, crawling down to her feet before rushing back to the darkness.
Holding him in place when he tried to roll off, Beverly looked up into his eyes. "Only a few times left for that," she said, feeling the sweat on his forehead when it found hers.
"I'm sure we'll adapt," he said with a wry smile. Jean-Luc rolled off and she lay on his chest. Resting her head there, she let her orgasm fade slowly as he breathed beneath her.
The tingling remained in her fingers and she let it chase away the dream. The reality of him was better than whatever had been in her subconscious. Jean-Luc's hands traced lazy patterns on her back and Beverly focused on that touch.
"Beverly?" Jean-Luc asked and she realized he'd been watching her face.
Sighing didn't ease her growing nausea, and she had to swallow before she answered him. "It's nothing," she said. "Just-"
"-Nausea," he finished for her, gently touching her cheek. "I thought--"
Whatever he had thought was interrupted by the chime of the door. Beverly turned her head towards the chronometer and frowned. Jean-Luc moved faster. Kissing her forehead in an apology, he slid from the bed. Grabbing a pair of pajama bottoms from his bag, he pulled them on.
"It's too early for anyone," Beverly complained, wondering if she could just pull up the sheet and stay in bed until the remnants of her orgasm chased her nausea away.
The door chimed again and he apologetically handed her his robe. "I can't find your bag," he said. "This might be important."
Pulling the robe on as she left the bed, Beverly fought the wave of unease that came from standing up when her stomach wanted to remain still. "It better be," she muttered darkly.
Wesley stood in the corridor and wondered if the computer had been wrong and they were asleep. It was nearly eight hundred hours now and he'd discovered three Picards arriving on the eight thirty transport from Bajor and knew his mother and the captain would greet them. He'd tried to give them enough time to wake up. Besides, Mom was a morning person. Even if she'd been up as late at the party as the gossip in the Promenade suggested, she wasn't the type to miss family.
He hit the chime again and wondered if he should have sent them a message telling them of his arrival. He'd wanted so badly to surprise them when he'd left Earth. They'd gone to great lengths to surprise him the last time he'd been on board, and Wesley felt like he owed them one. Especially Mom, because he was writing so much less than he had in the past.
His letters were also much shorter because he had so many things he couldn't tell her. He could no longer report good grades or winning any accolades. This past semester, Wesley had been floating, like a surly ghost of himself. The Academy, the one place he'd wanted to be part of for so long, was losing its appeal.
Wesley reached for the chime a third time but the door opened. Captain Picard stood there for a moment, eyes widening in surprise before he reached for him and dragged him in. Stumbling into the room, Wesley was clasped on the shoulder.
"Wesley!" Picard said warmly. Wesley didn't know what to do with his hands. The captain caught him by the other shoulder and he just stood there, trying to smile. Though stunned by the captain's state of undress, he tried to ignore it.
Picard released him a moment before his mother grabbed him. She threw her arms around him and held him tightly. "Wesley!" she cried, squeezing him fiercely. "Oh Wesley, how did you--?"
Admiral Brand had given him leave in hopes that seeing family would reignite his passion for school and cure the emotion malady that clung to him like a cloud. He'd been almost relieved when he thought he couldn't attend the wedding, and then strangely apprehensive when he could.
The baby was still out of most of the gossip. Captain Picard getting married had only taken a day to make it from gossip at headquarters to the student body. After a well meaning Melcorian cadet had asked him if he would be changing his surname, as was customary in some human cultures, he'd become 'Cadet Picard' to most of the third year cadets. Bristling about it just made it worse, so Wesley tried to deal with it.
One night he'd lain awake and wondered what his father would think. He remembered so little about Jack that sometimes he was forced to admit that when he thought of the men who had influenced him, Picard came to mind first. There had been moments where nothing meant more to him than Picard being proud of him.
Wesley forced himself to smile because Picard was looking at him. He also tried desperately not to stare at the grey hairs on the older man's bare chest. Picard was naked to the waist, only wearing a loose fitting pair of pajama pants. Wesley felt like he was in a shuttle waiting to slam into the planet below as he fell out of the sky.
When his mother released him to look at him, beaming, he felt himself crash and burn. His mother only wore a robe, beige and long with a sharp V in the front. It was a man's robe and from the way it was tied hastily at the waist, she'd only just put it on. Her face was still slightly flushed, not only because she was glad to see him, but pink with exertion.
"I'm so glad you came," she said as she released him. His mother was happy, more so than he'd seen her in a long time. Even though her eyes were tired, and the skin beneath them etched dark, she radiated contentment. If it had been anyone but Captain Picard, Wesley would have wondered if she was afraid of being alone.
The captain was special. She hugged him and she never hugged Riker or Troi. She went to him when she was upset and she trusted him. His mother's eyes always changed when they talked about the captain. Two years ago, she had brought him to Wesley's hearing and taken Picard's word over her son's.
Maybe Picard never lied to her. Wesley forced his guilt down and hoped that both of them would take the flush of his cheeks as embarrassment.
"Admiral Brand let me take a working vacation," he answered, trying to keep his eyes up and away from their bodies. "I did a tour on the Xuende on the way here and I'm doing a tour on the Challenger on the way back."
"That sounds wonderful, Wesley," Picard said. "Not that you've ever been short field experience. I bet both ships are lucky to have you, even for a few days."
"Thanks," he said, trying not to look at his mother and the way Picard's robe clung tightly to her stomach. She was starting to look pregnant.
His lab partners, Rachael and Courtney had tried to warn him, bringing it up gently over beer in the pub near campus. They were the first ones to mention the baby and ask him how he felt about it. He'd been forced to admit he hadn't really thought about it since Picard had told him. His account of how he'd spat coffee all over his terminal made them laugh.
"I don't know," he'd been forced to admit when Rachael asked him how he felt about his half-sibling. "Don't think I'll see him or her much."
"You'll be an ensign on a starship far away from the Enterprise if you don't start getting your grades up," Courtney had teased him. "I know Emergency Medical's a tough subject, especially for you, but if you don't get at least a B on the delivery sim you'll never get more than a C in the class. That's not like you."
"We both passed," Rachael had added, flagging down the waiter for another round. "It's a little squishy, but it's interesting and you really don't have to do much, you're just the assistant."
He'd eventually agreed and scheduled the simulation for two weeks after his return to Earth. Luckily, his friends had both been more concerned with the logistics of the ceremony and how the chain of command would be affected to talk much more about the baby. Though they had reminded him that his mother might be showing, he hadn't really thought about it until she'd hugged him. She was only going to get bigger and thinking about that made his stomach twist.
"Are you going to be all right with school?" his mother asked gently. "Two weeks is a long time away from your studies."
"It's near the end of the semester anyway," he answered with a fake smile. "All we do is review and it's easy to study while you're traveling. No real distractions."
Picard touched his shoulder again and Wesley tried not to squirm. The happier they were, the guiltier he felt and the harder it was to stand there.
"We were just about to get dressed-"
His mother shared a look with Picard that Wesley tried to pretend he hadn't caught.
"-and go meet my family," Picard finished. "Will you join us? I'd be delighted to introduce you to my nephew René. I'm sure he has a thousand questions for you about the Academy."
"Please," his mother added. "I'd really like you to meet them. You will have some family on Earth, finally." She hit Picard's shoulder lightly and ordered, "Go get dressed."
"Yes, dear," he murmured playfully and Wesley felt his jaw drop a centimeter. He forced it shut as his mother looked him over.
"You look well," she said cheerfully. She crossed her arms over her chest and then touched his chin again. "Whenever I get one of your letters, or see your name on something at the Academy, I'm so proud of you."
"I'm not that amazing," he argued but he smiled at her a little more easily. He had missed her. Mom was all he had and it was wonderful to see her so happy.
"You're always that amazing to me," she reminded him, reaching for his hair and then stopping herself. "You know, Robin Lefler's still on the Enterprise."
Wesley blushed and looked down. With his eyes lowered he noticed the way her left hand cupped her stomach and had to look back up. "Mom--"
"I know I was under an alien influence while you were dating," she said, smiling wickedly. "It doesn't mean I don't remember how much time you spent with her." Sitting down, she leaned back into the sofa, pulled up her legs under her and closed her eyes for a moment.
"You know, it's too bad you missed the party. Will threw an amazing bachelor party, complete with togas, and he and the captain were--"
"Completely properly behaved, I assure you," Picard interrupted drolly, emerging from the bedroom, fully dressed. He took Beverly's (his mother's) hand when she offered it from the sofa and helped her to her feet. "Five minutes," he warned her.
His mother rolled her eyes, but nodded. Picard looked at her face. Then, surprising the hell out of Wesley, he touched her cheek.
"Are you all right?" he asked softly.
"I'm fine," she promised with a quick smile. "Just a little sick to my stomach."
"Cold feet?" Picard teased her but kept his hand on her skin.
"That must be it," she replied softly and now that he was listening for it, Wesley heard the catch in her voice. She removed the captain's hand, but held it for a moment,standing there as if she were fighting something in her head. Soon, the blood left her face, then her hand flew up to her mouth. "I'm sorry," she mumbled quickly before leaving the room.
Wesley got to his feet but Picard held up a quieting hand. "It's all right," he promised. "I'll take care of her."
"Is she?" Wesley said but stopped asking his question halfway, trying not to listen for the sound of his mother retching in the bathroom.
"She gets nauseated," Picard said gently. "She's all right. It happens very quickly and doesn't last very long." Before Wesley could say anything else, Picard calmly gave him orders. "If you go ahead and meet my brother's transport, your mother and I will meet you when she's feeling better."
It was all Wesley could do not to say, 'Yes, sir' and head down to the docking ring. Picard squeezed his shoulder, reminding Wesley how many times he'd said things would be fine and everything had been. If he could save his mother from terrorists, Picard could handle holding her hair back, couldn't he?
He nodded, almost relieved to get out their quarters before he said something stupid. He'd never seen his mother sick. She never caught any of the mild illnesses that roamed around the Enterprise or the Horatio. He knew she'd been injured on Minos, but she'd been resting comfortably in their quarters by the time the saucer section had met back up with the battle section.
He remembered how she'd smiled then, almost mysteriously, and promised the captain had taken very good care of her. Data had told him that his mother's injuries were severe and in his non-medical opinion, Picard's intervention had saved her life. Wesley had looked at Captain Picard a little differently after that and he'd never found the chance to ask him what it had been like.
He walked into the lift and asked for the docking ring. The transports from Bajor always docked at the same port and he arrived there quickly. Standing there alone and a little out of place, Wesley realized he didn't even know the people he was meeting. According to Federation records, Robert and Marie ran a vineyard and produced Château Picard, as that land had for centuries. He didn't like wine much and had very little to say about it. If they ran a brewery he would have felt more comfortable talking to them, but he hadn't been that lucky.
René, who was going to be his cousin, was fifteen and apparently interested in physics and chemistry. He'd already won several secondary school prizes in scientific fields and was a candidate for the pre-Academy accelerated program. Wesley was sure they'd be able to find something to talk about, even if it was simply how to pass the entrance exam and persuade his parents to let him leave Labarre and study at the larger schools in Paris or Marseille.
He almost envied the young man. If René failed out of the Academy, he wouldn't be letting anyone down. At the same time, if the scattered stories he knew about Picard's childhood were true, René was probably expected to become a vintner and going to the Academy would be the last thing his parents wanted. Wesley had never rebelled, or ever felt like he needed to go against what his mother wanted. His friends had, occasionally, and he'd never been sure if he envied them or not.
A hand touched his arm, drawing him out of his thoughts and back to Deep Space Nine. Wesley turned, expecting his mother and the captain. The hand on his arm was Nana's and she smiled brilliantly at him before grabbing him into a hug.
"You keep getting so tall!" she exclaimed as she held him. "Handsome too, even more than your father was. Though don't tell your mother, she'll accuse me of exaggerating." Nana kept her hands on his arm, still smiling.
Wesley stiffened slightly at the mention of his father, but seeing his great-grandmother again made him smile. "Nana, I didn't think you were up yet."
"I'm an early riser," she reminded him, "even in space. I wanted to give your mother and Jean-Luc a chance to sleep in. They're going to have a busy day today. I had heard you weren't coming. If you'd told me you were here--"
"I wanted to surprise Mom," he interrupted her, then sighed as his face flushed.
"You must have succeeded," Nana said, studying his face. "She was trying so hard not to be disappointed; having you here must be a wonderful surprise."
"She was happy," he agreed with a short nod.
"So happy she skipped meeting the transport?" Nana asked him as she crossed her arms over her chest.
He shuffled his feet, then answered, "Mom's sick. She seemed fine, then she started vomiting. The captain's with her."
Nana made a soft sound soft in her throat, then touched his shoulder. "That's where he should be," she said. "Your mother hasn't had the best of luck this time around, not that it was much easier when she was pregnant with you."
"She's never talked about it," he said.
"It's not the kind of thing mothers like to bring up," Nana reassured him, reaching up to muss his hair. "I did my share of wishing I had never been foolish enough to get pregnant with your grandmother."
The red docking port spun open and the transport began to unload. "What was she like, my grandmother?"
"Not much like your mother," Nana watched the people walk by, eyeing the Bolians with a smile. "Quiet, studious, dedicated," she mused. "She was a writer, went to a fancy school while we lived on Luna, got a job working for the Federation News Service, met a nice man named Paul. Came home from one of her assignments with your mother in her belly."
"Now," she continued as they watched the people disembark, "Izzie loved to travel. Her work always kept her on one transport or the other. Beverly was just a little one, and she always stayed with me." Her green eyes softened, becoming almost tearful though her voice remained strong. "Izzie left us one morning when Beverly was four. Her transport never arrived on Vulcan and your mother and I became our own little family."
"Then we had Jack and you," she said, winking at him. "Now we'll have Jean-Luc and his family. Whom I believe I see right over there." Nana pointed at a young man with light brown hair, looking around in amazement as an older woman followed him. She had a kind face and curly hair. The man holding her arm stopped to talk to one of the station personnel and then called back the boy.
Tugging Wesley's sleeve, Nana started forward and addressed the woman. "Marie Picard, I presume?" she asked with a smile.
"Yes!" she beamed at Nana as she drew her husband's attention with a wave. "I'm sorry, you have me at a disadvantage."
"I'm Felisa Howard," Nana introduced herself with a quick nod. "Beverly's grandmother."
"Wesley Crusher," he offered as he extended his hand. To his surprise, Marie took it and then kissed his cheeks in quick succession.
"Crusher?" Mrs. Picard asked, tilting her head in amusement. "You must be Beverly's son."
"I am and I'm sorry she's not here." Her hand was warm in his and he could feel calluses on her fingers.
"No apologies are necessary. She sent you, didn't she? It's a pleasure, Wesley," Mrs. Picard said as she drew her son over.
"Maman," he said quickly, ignoring Wesley and Nana, "there are three Sultimarians over by the jewelry store. Did you know they don't walk like we do, but float?"
"They have internal helium bladders," Wesley volunteered. "It allows them to remain suspended above the ground."
"I'm René," the teenager extended his hand with enthusiasm. "You must be my new great-nephew." When Wesley stared at him in surprise, he explained, "Jean-Luc is my nephew."
"I see," Nana beamed, obviously amused by him. "I hope you will allow me to think of you as my ancient ancestor."
"Not too ancient," René agreed, cheerfully returning her wink.
Robert Picard finished his business with the Bajoran who was monitoring the unloading of the cargo and joined them. Felisa introduced herself first and Robert graciously kissed her cheeks. Wesley took his hand, feeling the calluses on his palm as he shook it firmly.
"Robert Picard," he announced briskly, reminding Wesley instantly of how curt Captain Picard had been when they'd met. The pronunciation of Robert surprised him. Wesley shared his name, but his own pronunciation was the Anglicized version, not the traditional French Mr. Picard used.
"The station's personnel are transferring the cargo to a place called Quark's," Mr. Picard continued.
"That's where the wedding will be," Nana answered him quickly, "and the reception."
"We brought Jean-Luc and Beverly a little wedding present," Mrs. Picard said, taking her husband's arm. They were a sharp contrast. Mrs. Picard never seemed to stop smiling and Mr. Picard had yet to stop scowling.
"Getting married in a bar," Mr. Picard said, shaking his head. "On a Cardassian station," he continued. "I remember when our parents used to wait up long nights waiting to see if the Cardassians had blown Jean-Luc out of the sky. Now he's getting married on something they've left behind."
"We talked about this," Mrs. Picard said, hitting her husband lightly. "We're thrilled for your mother and your brother. It doesn't matter where our hearts take us, just that we follow them."
"You'd think the captain of the Federation flagship could find time to get himself back to Earth for his wedding," Mr. Picard grumbled as he watched his son wander off to look at another shop. "Don't they have leave in Starfleet?"
Nana looked amused and Wesley looked to Mrs. Picard for help.
"Mr. Picard," he tried tentatively, "it's not always easy for captains to get away from their ships, no matter how much leave they may have accumulated."
Mrs. Picard rolled her eyes but continued to smile. "Please, Wesley, call us Marie and Robert, and I'd love for you to think of us as your aunt and uncle," she said. "Robert and I are thrilled you're joining our family, both you and your mother."
Robert made a noise in the back of his throat, but it wasn't a negative one. "I have paperwork to fill out with Bajoran customs."
Wesley indicated down the Promenade. "That will be in the quartermaster's office, same place where you'll apply for temporary quarters."
"Good," Robert said curtly, then looked for his son.
With a glance from his father, René hurried to join them. "I've been reading the schematics of the station, the quartermaster's office is on the habitat ring, level twenty-four?"
Wesley nodded at the young man and smiled, recognizing a little of himself at that age. "Right."
"It's a lot more difficult than learning the Enterprise," René admitted as he fell in next to Wesley and Nana. "My nephew's ship is much easier to navigate." Pausing, he smiled playfully. "I suppose it's my neice and nephew's ship now, isn't it?"
Marie chuckled and grabbed her son around his shoulders. "That it is."
"And where are they?" Robert asked gruffly as they started walking towards the quartermaster's office to report their arrival.
Nana would have explained, but it was his responsibility and Wesley spoke first. "My mother's not feeling well, Captain Picard is with her."
"Oh?" Marie's expression was sympathetic and soft around her eyes. Robert's gruff façade faltered for a moment and his eyes flicked to Wesley's face. "I hope nothing's wrong."
"She's fine," Wesley said quickly, looking to Nana for help.
"Nausea," Nana offered for him. "Beverly's having some trouble with morning sickness."
"Poor dear," Marie murmured and tightened her grip on her husband's arm.
"Then Jean-Luc's where he should be," Robert said curtly. Wesley studied him, surprised by his sudden change from annoyance to acceptance.
"Mind us asking what kind of gift you brought?" Nana wondered. Her impish smile looked a lot like one of Mom's.
"Wine," Robert answered. At Wesley's side, René chuckled behind his hand and Wesley couldn't help smiling with him.
"The twenty-three thirty-one, our best year," Marie explained. "The thirty-one's won several prizes, both on and off-world. I never thought Robert would part with a bottle, much less several cases."
"Jean-Luc is only getting married once," Robert finished the subject.
"Too bad," René said, watching the deputies walk by on a routine patrol. "We're not even to the wedding and I've already seen eighteen species, been on three different types of spacecraft and seen the Bajoran cliffs of Hujnai. We studied them in my geology class. When we return to Bajor after the wedding, I'm going to see temples and forts that are thousands of years old. No one else in school has seen anything like that."
"You're going back to Bajor?" Captain Picard's voice joined the conversation from their left and Wesley turned with everyone else to see the captain standing with his arm around his mother's back. She looked pale and had a firm grip on the captain, but she was smiling.
"For three weeks," Marie said as she hurried to embrace Jean-Luc. He returned the gesture, feeling the warmth of her and smelling the sweetness of her perfume as she hugged him tightly. She moved on to Beverly and kissed her cheeks in welcome. "It's so good to meet you," she said before finishing her explanation. "Believe it or not, we're assisting with the Bajoran economic reconstruction. Robert has offered to work with the Bajoran vineyards and try to help them revive the industry."
Jean-Luc raised an eyebrow and paused before reaching out his hand towards his brother. "Robert, you've become an interstellar humanitarian?"
Robert shrugged, then shook his hand stiffly. He smelled of earth and vines, as he always did. "Rebuilding that which an occupying force has destroyed is part of the Picard history. We know land," he paused and then stared at Jean-Luc, "or stars, in your case."
René hugged his uncle and paused in front of Beverly. He extended his hand formally and waited to be introduced.
"Beverly," Jean-Luc began, keeping his hand protectively on the small of her back. "This is my Uncle René Picard. Uncle, this is your future niece, Doctor Beverly Crusher."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, I do hope you're feeling better," René said, offering her a concerned smile.
"I'm fine," Beverly said quickly, flushing slightly at his concern. Touched by his nephew's behavior, Jean-Luc watched them with a smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you," she said, smiling at Jean-Luc before turning her attention back to the teenager. "Uncle."
René beamed and kissed her cheeks, accepting her immediately.
"Wesley said you weren't feeling well," Marie said, gently reaching for Beverly's shoulder.
"Have you tried ginger tea?" Felisa added, slipping between Jean-Luc and Beverly. Catching Beverly's eye, Jean-Luc winked at her and let her be stolen away.
"Thank you, Wesley," Jean-Luc told him, clasping his shoulder and escaping the group of women. Robert continued briskly on towards the quartermaster's office. "I apologize for missing your transport."
Robert waved him off, nodding towards Wesley. "We were fine. Wesley and Madame Howard were more than adequate as a welcoming committee. Believe it or not, I am capable of navigating the galaxy."
"I never doubted it," Jean-Luc answered, watching Wesley and René move ahead. His nephew was questioning Wesley at warp speed as their group walked through the station. "I appreciate your coming."
"My son considers this the best adventure of his life," Robert said without acknowledging the sentiment. "Of course, Marie insisted."
Jean-Luc nodded at that, straightening his dark green civilian shirt. "And your interest in Bajor?" he wondered, still dumbfounded.
"A properly grown and fermented springwine is a soft, bright verlant with a perfection of fruit undertones I can't find on Earth," Robert answered, stopping outside the quartermaster's office, his sharp eyes on his little brother. "If I am going to be halfway across the galaxy, I am going to do some good while I'm here. Of course, I can't expect you to be concerned with the distance your wedding is from home when you have more pressing things on your mind."
Following Robert's eyes down the corridor, Jean-Luc watched as Marie and Felisa fussed over Beverly like two affectionate cats with a recently recovered kitten.
"She's beautiful," Robert said, tucking his hands into his pockets. "Her son is polite and intelligent. Her Starfleet record's more impressive than yours."
Jean-Luc nodded along with his brother, then scratched the back of his head, waiting for him to finish.
"What's she doing with you?" Robert asked, face stone and stiff.
"Can't say that I know," he shrugged, watching Beverly smile at him and blushing like a cadet falling in love for the first time. "Perhaps I'm just lucky."
"Luck better have nothing to do with it," his brother insisted. "You love her?"
"More than life," Jean-Luc admitted, smiling sheepishly.
"You love her," Robert reiterated. "Then, you take care of her and let her keep you in line. Let her tell you when you're wrong and tell yourself she's right when you want to stubbornly say otherwise." He turned without waiting for a reply and disappeared into the office.
Wesley and René appealed to Marie and Beverly when the women caught up to them.
"May I go with Wesley?" René begged, his eyes shining with excitement. "He says the wormhole's going to open in twenty minutes and if we're on the upper deck, we can see it."
Wesley smiled and for a second, he was the eager young teenager who'd walked onto the bridge so many years ago. "I can show him the station and give him a tour of the Enterprise. René's been reading many of the same books I did when I was his age. It'll be educational."
"Not too educational," Marie teased them, nodding her agreement. "Have fun." She shared a look with Beverly that seemed to suggest that prodigious sons were better off talking each other's ears off than anyone else's.
When he reached her, Beverly slipped her arm into Jean- Luc's, resting her head on his shoulder for a moment while Marie and Felisa discussed what they knew about the food for the wedding. Feeling her fingers wind their way into his, Jean-Luc touched her cheek. "All right?" he asked in a whisper.
"It's getting better," she promised him with a weak smile. "I don't know what it is about this morning in particular."
"I still think it's cold feet," he insisted, squeezing her hand and smiling back. Robert emerged from the office and one of the busiest days of Jean-Luc's life swallowed him up.
Jean-Luc's simple gold wedding band was with Deanna so she didn't have to remember it. Beverly had been toying with it all morning, wearing it on her thumb, and now she missed it. She appreciated the silence of her quarters but it felt strange to be alone. Jean-Luc's family had kept the morning full. They'd filed the final paperwork in Commander Sisko's office, and then the guests had started to appear.
Everyone, from doctors she'd known at Starfleet Medical to visiting ambassadors, had managed to be on the station for the wedding. They hadn't bothered with many invitations and the wedding grew like a voracious bacterial culture.
After being hugged and kissed more than she had in years, Beverly was finally in the eye of the storm. Being alone to put up her hair was a luxury. It was as if she'd stepped into some kind of time paradox where everything around her moved with an unnatural speed she wasn't part of.
Beverly closed her eyes; the inside of the lids were gold in the weak light in her quarters. Her head was still spinning, either from the tugging it had taken to get her hair perfectly up or the residual nausea from that morning. The unfairness of it was deeply frustrating. Jean-Luc was drunk enough to sing folk songs with Will last night, but she was the one with the hangover.
Rubbing her temples and opening her eyes, Beverly stared at herself in the mirror. Her hair was up in one of the most elaborate twists she'd ever worn. At Lwaxana's insistence, she wore a delicate, white gauze headband that wove around her red-gold hair. She also wore an ancient pair of sapphire earrings that had belonged to Jean-Luc's mother and were a gift from Marie. Nana had given her an ornate silver locket, making her promise not to open it until the honeymoon. Garak had done wonders with her dress uniform and it fit perfectly, perhaps even better than it had before she was pregnant.
The baby stirred, nudging the left side of her womb as if acknowledging the way her hand kept drifting there. Rubbing her belly in response to the baby, Beverly stood. Looking at herself one last time in the mirror, she closed her eyes and said goodbye to the quiet of the empty room. Her quarters had already been shared for the last few months, but this made everything between them official. Beverly Crusher was leaving her quarters for the last time. She smiled to herself and headed for the door.
When she stepped out into the corridor, he was waiting for her. Jean-Luc's smile spread slowly over his face as he stopped fidgeting with his collar and saw her. Drinking in his appearance in his dress uniform, from his muscular legs in the tight black trousers to his square shoulders beneath the red tunic, Beverly felt warmth grow from her toes.
"You look beautiful," his voice caught in his throat.
Beverly wrapped her arm into his, blushing faintly as he stared at her. "You're fairly incredible yourself."
His hand was warm on top of her own and his hazel eyes locked with hers. "I've been trying to decide how I feel," Jean-Luc began gently, as if feeling his way to her through words. "I can't get any further than 'extraordinarily happy.'"
Giggling made the baby Renéw her tumbling, and Beverly squeezed his hand. His palm was dry. "I keep feeling that this isn't real," she replied, walking easily with him.
Reaching for his free hand as they entered the lift, she brought it to her belly and pushed his fingers into the baby's movement. "Then you'll say something, or even just smile at me and it's suddenly real that I have you," she paused, blushing slightly. "'Happy' seems entirely inadequate."
"Even 'extraordinarily happy,'" he agreed.
"'I love you' seems increasingly appropriate," she ventured, feeling the lift whisk them towards their future.
"Indeed," he deadpans, meeting her eyes long enough to smirk before the lift stopped and they were standing on the Promenade.
Will and Deanna had been waiting for them and Will took her arm when she stepped off. Watching Deanna take Jean-Luc's, Beverly mouthed that she loved him and Jean-Luc blushed when Deanna gave him a look.
"Ready?" Will asked, holding her hand against his arm.
"I'm not sure if it's 'finally ready' or 'only just,'" she paused. "I'm going to miss you."
"Likewise," he said, squeezing her hand as they passed the Bajoran temple. "It's going to take some time to get as close to my own CMO."
"Hopefully not Odan close," she teased.
Will's eyebrows shot up and he winked. "Hopefully not."
"You've been--" she stammered, "I haven't had a brother, but--"
"If I pulled your hair a little more, I'd qualify," Will joked and stopped their advance on the wedding party to kiss her cheek. "You'd better write. I can't miss you being the size of a targ and beating up on poor Jean-Luc just because I have my own ship."
"Of course," Beverly promised, trying not to think about how much she was going to miss him. Even though she'd worried about him initially, he'd quickly become one of her closest friends on the Enterprise. Will never hesitated when it came to his friendship, and she'd miss his counsel as much as his cooking and poker nights in his quarters.
They stopped just outside of the bar. It had been decorated for the occasion with the white and blue banners of Starfleet, and blue and silver streamers covered the dark metal. It wasn't a fairy tale, but Jean-Luc would appreciate the effect. A station of war and misery was now a place of joy.
Her almost husband stood a few meters away with Deanna, wiping tears from her face and undoubtedly reminding her to write,.
Will took a step inside and the string quartet began to play. Will returned to Beverly and took her arm.
"Last chance," he teased.
Beverly shook her head firmly. "I'm marrying him."
Will beamed and let Deanna and Jean-Luc go first. She was too far away to get a good look at Jean-Luc's face, but she knew exactly what she'd see. Kissing Will's cheek quickly, she made him blush as they followed Jean-Luc and Deanna up the aisle through the crowd.
Somehow their quiet little wedding had become standing room only and the dress uniforms were interspersed with civilian clothes. The faces blended and she finally had to focus on Commander Sisko's smiling face on the dais. To his left was Guinan and to his right was Lwaxana. Deanna took a place next to her mother and Beverly watched Jean-Luc fall into position with his back to her. Leaving Will a step away from Jean-Luc, she caught a glimpse of the quartet and recognized Data and Chief O'Brien.
Beverly took one step up and then she was there, next to him. She didn't need to look; Jean-Luc's presence at her side was right.
Commander Sisko smiled at them both before he began. "Ladies and gentleman. A weddings is a union between two daring and different souls. Marriage is a type of diplomatic event that defies true explanation unless you've experienced it. It is a very particular kind of duty. An exhausting, thrilling, consuming and inescapable duty that changes the very essence of your soul."
"You must know all of this, and yet," he paused and beamed at both of them, "here you are. Well then, please join hands as an expression of your commitment to each other and repeat after me." He turned to Jean-Luc and began.
Jean-Luc's hands were warm and steady around her own. His voice was softer than she expected, and as she smiled it grew in strength.
"With this ring, I, Jean-Luc Picard, take you, Beverly, as my companion for the rest of my days. I came here as one, and I will leave as one with you. As long as I have life, I will share it with you."
It was the space of a breath while the gold warmed to her skin. Keeping her eyes on his, Beverly took the ring Deanna pressed into her own hand. Finding his ring finger, she slid on his ring. His hand, both rough and yielding, wound tightly around her own as she began to speak.
The solemnity of the vows couldn't contain her joy and her lip quivered as she finished. She'd either cry or laugh in a moment. Glancing down at her hand, she saw the matching golden bands and warmth rushed over her. No longer friends turned lovers, or parents united for their child, they were now one being.
Kissing him drowned out the applause. The moment of unity vibrated through her and Beverly held the kiss past the point when he began to pull away. Her eyes were wet, stinging as she stole the moment to smile for him alone. Holding his hand overrode her other senses, even as the audience roared its appreciation. From the polite Bajoran clapping to the hearty yells of Will and Geordi, the cacophony was theirs.
Jean-Luc's hand stayed locked in hers. She loved him to the core of her being and all was right with the universe.
Worf leaned in closer. "An honor guard from Gowron, for the captain's service to the Klingon Empire. Captain ch'Talhn from the Challenger."
"Ambassador Solvak, Doctor Rossier, Doctor T'Meni-" Geordi stopped listing the people he recognized as a small blonde woman entered the line for the endless tables of food alone.
"Admiral Necheyev," Will whistled slowly. "I wonder if she liked the ceremony."
"Short," Worf piped up and resumed filing his plate. "Equitable. Not as long as I feared the human oath of marriage would be."
"Some of them are quite long," Will assured him as he settled down at the head table. A group of tables had taken over the second level of the Promenade. They could see the Enterprise at the upper pylon through the windows, and looking at his former ship sent a pang through him.
"Voyager's a good ship," Geordi said, following Will's eyes towards the Enterprise as Worf took a long drink of wine.
"Not bad," the Klingon rumbled and studied the bottle. "The Captain's family vineyard," he remarked.
"Every bottle." Will glanced around and saw Deanna and her mother still locked in conversation. Across the Promenade, a family of three settled down at one of the far tables. He excused himself to meet them.
Pausing by that table, he extended a hand to the father as he looked up. "I'm Will Riker. You must be Mr. Picard?"
"Yes," the father replied, standing to return the handshake. His grip was firm and weathered. "Robert. This is my wife Marie, and my son René."
The young man bounded to his feet and shook Will's hand with both of his. "Commander- Captain Will Riker." Eyeing Will's dress uniform hungrily, he beamed. "You're Number One. At least, you were until you were promoted. My nephew keeps me updated on his ship."
"I see that he does," Will chuckled as Marie kissed his cheek in greeting. "Will you join us at the head table? There's plenty of room and the captain," he corrected himself, smiling, "Jean-Luc would love to have you."
"We can meet his friends," Marie cajoled her husband.
"They're his staff," Robert corrected, "and we'd be intruding."
"It would be our honor if you joined us," Will said sincerely, looking from one to the other. "Please."
Kathryn Janeway watched the line for food swell and took a sip of her wine. It was excellent, a real red from Earth was rare this far out and she relished the feel of it on her tongue. Her companion, the darkly handsome Chakotay sat with her, sniffing his wine before he took a sip.
"Good?"
Her sigh was almost a moan. "Incredible." Kathryn took another sip and nodded happily. "Hopefully it's something that Captain Picard brings on board with him."
Chakotay took his first sip and grinned at her. "I doubt there will be any leftover bottles."
"A girl can dream, can't she?" she teased, taking another, larger sip of wine.
"She definitely talked in her sleep," he murmured into his glass, and she nearly spat her wine out in surprise.
"I did not," she stammered. Her cheeks flushed hot and it was more than just the wine.
"Someone named 'Molly'?" Chakotay fished and she felt a second rush of feeling, this time of cool relief. She'd made the decision not to think about Mark until Chakotay left on the Challenger and she had to force it back down."You were worried about her being on your bed."
Kathryn blushed harder at the innuendo that was nearly present in his voice. "Molly is my dog," she explained, trying to decide when she'd ever been so quick to embarrass. "She's living with--" she stopped and stared at her wine glass. Fingering the stem wouldn't make Mark go away, but talking about him and the problems they were having wasn't going to make it any better.
"I suppose we should--"
Chakotay waved her off before she could say anything. "My people have a saying, talking about the rain does not change the wetness of the ground."
"Thank you," Kathryn smiled at him, wondering where he'd been before she'd realized Mark could be more than a friend. Chakotay had probably been in space, a drive which Mark had never understood, and might never understand. If she offered Chakotay a place on the Enterprise, he'd never turn her down as Mark had.
Chakotay poured her more wine and she smiled at him from light years away. Maybe she was angry with Mark, maybe she secretly didn't want to get married or perhaps there was something else she just wasn't dealing with properly.
He touched her hand when he sat back down and she nearly blushed. His eyebrows raised and his dark eyes twinkled.
"I'm not behaving like an adult," she offered softly.
Eyeing the diminishing line for food, Chakotay got to his feet and offered her his arm. "Blame the wine."
"It is good, isn't it?" Kathryn sighed, leaving her glass on the table like a friend she might not see again for a long time
"Superb," he agreed, wrapping her arm into his gallantly. "You know, you're starting off well."
"Oh?" she titled her head, wondering if the rush of the wine in her head was really that obvious.
"You've barely even boarded the Enterprise and she'll be yours for a week," Chakotay said, leading her to the line of blue, red and gold dress uniforms and they took their place in the queue.
"Hadn't thought of that," she murmured, nodding to Admiral Necheyev as the slim blonde woman floated by imperiously. "It's quite a coup, isn't it? Rather like having my own ship, even if the walls are ripped apart with an ODN refit and it couldn't even reach warp drive if we got out and pushed. Currently the only type of vessel Starfleet considers me worthy of commanding."
He passed her an empty plate and her stomach nearly growled as she smelled the richness of the food laid out for them.
"Sounds like a story," Chakotay observed.
"A story where I always lose to Will Riker?" she quipped, neatly avoiding the subject of Voyager as the tall, newly promoted captain strolled by behind them.
"She stood me up," Will interrupted, leaning over Chakotay's shoulder to grab a choice piece of duck a l'orange.
"I made it to the restaurant," she interrupted in her own defense.
Will circled the table, stole her plate and hugged her shoulders before she could protest further. "And ran," he insisted.
"Backed away gracelessly," Kathryn corrected, putting her hands on her hips as Will refused to hand back her plate and instead, brazenly chose food for her.
"At least you didn't trip," he reminded her with a wink. "Now, you have to try this. Oxijala, from Betazed. It's vegetarian, some kind of deep forest roots, but it's truly exceptional. You have to be from one of the great houses of Betazed to even have the right to serve it."
"Which means Ambassador Troi brought it," Chakotay explained with certainty and Kathryn looked from one man to the other in confusion. "All of the flatware has the Troi crest; the Ambassador must consider the captain or Beverly family."
"Just about," Will beamed and waved over a woman with dark hair and the deep black eyes that Kathryn knew indicated a Betazoid. She was shorter than Kathryn, which was rare, but the smile she gave Will was truly unique. If Will had looked at Kathryn the way he looked at this Betazoid, she would have forgotten Cheb had ever existed long enough to break her heart. "Commander Kathryn Janeway, meet Counselor Deanna Troi. Deanna, meet the new Number One, the only woman who ever stood me up at the Academy."
"I didn't know that was a prerequisite for the job," Deanna joked, shaking Kathryn's hand with a firm grip and turning to Chakotay, whom Kathryn introduced.
"I met Doctor Crusher-" he corrected, "Picard, back on Earth, when she was head of Medical," Chakotay's wicked smile made Will raise his eyebrows and Deanna giggled. "I was teaching at the Academy. I'm Chakotay."
Kathryn stood between them, listening as Deanna and Chakotay began to discuss Betazoid nobility and began to remember what she liked about the company of her fellow Starfleet officers. They were united in purpose,. Each of them understood the responsibilities they had sworn to as well as she did. None of them were going to think she was disconnected from her planet, or a slave to her career.
When Will and Deanna followed them back to their table, Kathryn lifted her glass with them in a toast to Captain and Doctor Picard and wondered if they had it figured out. Marry someone who understood that Starfleet wasn't just a career, it was a calling that got into one's heart.
"One thing I love about being pregnant," Beverly whispered to him as she pressed him back against the wall in an alcove near the lavatory, "no one ever questions how many times you need to go to the bathroom." She kissed his chin and sighed as he wrapped his arms around her back.
Jean-Luc ran his hands down her sides, across her hips and finally cupped her upper thighs. She swallowed a giggle and began to kiss him, tongue diving deep into his mouth. The reception was a wonderful affair, full of rich food and stimulating conversation; however, there were other ways they both desperately wanted to be stimulated. He could feel it in the way she sucked his upper lip.
Her legs weren't the logical place to hold her but he loved the feel of them. Her muscles were taut and firm beneath his palms and he know exactly how supple those legs were. Thinking about that, Jean-Luc went weak in the knees before she even grabbed his arm.
"How much longer?" she whispered into his ear.
"You promised quite a few gentlemen a dance," Jean-Luc reminded her firmly, "and as your husband, I get to command several."
Beverly's hips swayed tantalizingly in front of his own, rubbing against him to remind him why they should get to the dancing shortly. Her hand caressed his face and the hardness of the warm gold wedding band against his cheek made him smile. Taking her hand, Jean-Luc held it for a moment, then kissed the skin just above the ring.
"I love you," Beverly promised with a wink before kissing him again. She shoved him back against the wall and he felt her belly against his stomach. The slight roundness of their daughter between them drove home just how stupidly, ridiculously, incalculably happy he was. Jean-Luc was married to the only woman to truly captivate his soul and he had every intention of enjoying every moment of it.
Breaking contact with her lips, he kissed his way down her neck and stopped to hover just above her collar. "I love you too," he murmured, dragging his fingers across the catch of her jacket. Taking it off quickly would be heaven; easing it off slowly would be an aching, delicious hell until she was naked and above him.
The naked lust in her blue eyes made him shiver when they looked at each other again. "Perhaps we should start dancing," she suggested as she pulled herself back.
Jean-Luc let himself hold her a moment longer before he retrieved his own hands. "That's a good idea."
"After you," Beverly waved with her hand. "Husband."
He reached for her and tickled her back. As she giggled and swatted at him, he pulled her in to kiss her again. "Wife," he sighed as he touched her chin.
"I love you," she repeated and turned to be more neatly in his arms. Her fingers dug into his upper arm playfully and she kissed his nose. While he raised his eyebrows at her, she shrugged.
"I love you."
"Making up for lost time?" he wondered.
Beverly shook her head, kissed him yet again and beamed. "I'm saying it whenever it occurs to me."
"Beverly-"
"I love you," she interrupted giddily. "Don't you just want to carry me to the captain's yacht and strip me naked?"
"Beverly-"
"I could just drag you into the bathroom-"
The wicked gleam in her eyes suggested a level of commitment to that idea he didn't want to test. "I love you," he interrupted her instead. "Beverly-"
"Picard!" she filled in with a wink as they moved through the crowd back towards the cleared space of the Promenade by the band.
"Are you sure?" he asked again and received the same roll of her eyes in response.
"I took Crusher," Beverly repeated, lifting his hand into place on her waist. "It was who I was then, now I'm going to try out Picard for a while. Assuming that's all right with the noble Picard family."
"Robert does seem to find you acceptable," Jean-Luc deadpanned even as his eyes stung with gratitude he couldn't keep down in his chest.
Beverly twirled out, then back into his arms as the band, an excellent Earth-based old Latin jazz combo Will had managed to find without notice, began to play a mambo. "I'm light years beyond 'acceptable' and you know it," she insisted, rolling her body along his in a tight spin within his arms.
"Making out?" Robin repeated, refilling Wesley's glass with deep blue Romulan ale. He hadn't asked where she'd gotten it and he was deeply grateful for how much it stung. "Not just kissing?"
"Making out," he said decisively. "Groping, sighing, wrapping around each other in the way that gets you stuck weeding Boothby's roses for a month."
"They are married," Robin reminded him, watching the dance floor behind him with a soft smile.
"I know."
"And-"
Wesley winced and downed his glass of ale as she finished with the word that just kept making him feel strangely out of place and unnecessary.
"-pregnant."
He shuddered and pushed the glass across towards her.
"I think it's romantic," Robin finished, pouring him more of the stinging ale. "Find your true love was under your nose the whole time. Though it does break rule number twenty-two."
"Your rule number twenty-two says to avoid dating someone in your department, not marrying them" he reminded her that he remembered all of her rules. Then he dug his fork vengefully into his slice of Tarvokian pound cake. "You get to leave them and serve on Voyager."
"Which is quite a promotion for a young ensign; however, it is also where my captain will be breaking rule number twenty-two and dating the Federation observer and diplomatic officer," Robin reminded him. The soft smile that took all the punch out of her words broadened and Wesley wondered if he should turn around. He started to move his head and Robin shook hers quickly.
"Rule number sixty-one," she lifted a hand and reached for his chin. "Sometimes it is better just not to know," she quoted. Wesley had a sudden moment of thought regarding Riker and Troi's relationship and pushed it aside as none of his business.
Her cool fingers felt incredible on his skin and he surprised her when he took her hand. "What's the rule for rekindling old flames?"
Robin's eyes widened and fixed on him. She began to smile sweetly. "There's always room for new rules."
"They know I was here, they know I'm happy for them," Wesley paused and swallowed, turning around to see his mom kissing Captain Picard as Geordi and Data banged on their glasses with spoons. "I need to get out of here." He grabbed the Romulan ale around the neck with one hand and Robin's hand with the other. "Tell me about Intrepid-class ships."
"They're small," Robin teased him, eyes shining as she straightened her dress tunic. "I get to be department head."
"Of a department of?" Wesley shot back, dragging her into the lift.
"Four," she answered, still smiling proudly. "Level Eighteen," she told the lift.
"Those are my quarters," he reached for her shoulder and she took the bottle from his hands.
"Funny," she titled her head and moved a little closer to him. She smelled incredible, like neroli jasmine. "Here I was, thinking you were a genius that could pick up an innuendo when it was staring you in the face."
Will bowed before his former commanding officer as he backed away to begin his toast. "Jean-Luc," he paused, eyeing his glass. "I still feel like I should call you captain. When I look at you, it's the first thing I think and I thought it would be hard to ever see you as anything but a very excellent captain."
"I also can't help remembering my first day on the Enterprise and you warning me how uncomfortable children made you." He stared at the captain before he broke into a smile.
"I'm thrilled we were both wrong. Children are something you're going to love and when I look at you now, I see a very excellent husband and father who just happens to be in charge of a starship."
"Captain Jean-Luc Picard, may fair winds, clear horizons and the very best of the universe continue to lay itself at your feet."
Geordi watched in astonishment as his captain, the man he'd thought was one of the most reserved men he'd ever met, was near tears getting to his feet. Picard attempted to speak, but he could only shake his head slowly. After a moment, he found his voice and reached for the shoulder of his former first officer.
"Thank you," was all he said.
The applause rang through the station in earnest but Deanna shut it down with a quick wave that was so reminiscent of her mother that Geordi shuddered. At her daughter's side, Lwaxana looked both proud and regal, as if approving of Deanna's rise to power.
Worf nudged him. "She has been practicing this all week," he announced, turning his focus completely to Deanna.
Geordi wondered if any security briefings had been speech practice and quietly refilled his glass with the excellent Picard wine.
"Beverly, I've long admired your strength," Deanna began and Geordi watched Beverly's smile soften. "When I first met you, I thought you were implacable, an ice queen, so used to being apart and aloof that we'd never become friends. Someone like you would never let me in.
"I'm glad I was wrong. Over the last six years, you became my confidant, the best workout partner I've ever had and, the only one who understands what it's like to play poker with the boys." Deanna leaned closer, as if it was a secret. "I watched you send Wesley off to the Academy, and I have to admit I wondered what you'd find to occupy yourself. Maybe you'd put on a few more plays--" she paused and then turned away with a smile. "Imagine my surprise when finding yourself led you here, married, pregnant and taking advice from my mother.
"I suppose I could say love brought you to this place, surrounded by your friends and family," Deanna's tone softened and Geordi started to understand why she'd needed to practice. "On Betazed, we say love heals all. I know a few other planets do too, but we like to claim it. Beverly, you've spent your life healing others, and now finally, you've found someone who heals you. You are happy beyond your most intricately constructed dreams and no one, in this universe or a thousand running parallel, deserves it more than you."
Beverly circled the table and grabbed Deanna so tightly around the shoulders that both women were a blur of blue uniforms.
Clapping wildly as the applause rang around them, Geordi watched Worf's eyes shift to one of the tables of Deep Space Nine personnel. The band started up again with a cheerful salsa beat and Worf finished his drink before slamming down the cup and heading for Lieutenant Dax. He envied the Klingon's courage and Data leaned inwards to be heard over the music.
"He is very forceful," Data observed. "It seems to be something the lieutenant appreciates." Both of them watched as Worf led Dax out onto the dance floor. "Perhaps you should imitate his example and see if you are able to procure a partner as easily."
"I am not a Klingon," Geordi reminded him with a shake of his head.
"Neither am I; however, I shall experiment. Excuse me Geordi," Data said, getting to his feet and pursuing a tall Bajoran woman over by the bar.
Geordi turned helplessly to Chief O'Brien and Keiko as they dropped laughing into the chairs next to him.
O'Brien followed the line of his visor and grinned. "Good choice," he nodded towards Data. "The Dabo girls get a little bored whenever Quark has to put away the wheels."
"The party's downstairs," Lwaxana reminded her, leaning against the railing. Her heavy satin dress crinkled and rustled as if it had something to add and Felisa turned a small smile her way.
"They really are happy, aren't they?" Felisa sighed, rubbing the corner of her eye.
Lwaxana touched her shoulder, taking the rush of emotion and setting it aside. On the surface there was pride, gratitude, and softer kind of longing. Beverly's mother should have been there, and there was a vague image of a tall woman with blue eyes and short red hair in Felisa's mind for a moment before she faded away.
There was something beneath; a darkness that scratched at Lwaxana's mind like brambles along the path. She knew she shouldn't push, but it had never stopped her before.
"Radiantly so," Lwaxana beamed, touching both newly wedded minds and drawing strength from the rush of affection that crashed over her like the warm sea. It was so easy to read them; their happiness was so contagious everyone around them was smiling. "They'd prefer to skip out of this and move on to the more private party-"
Felisa snorted and began to chuckle.
"Jean-Luc is indulging the most detailed thoughts about her legs and, strangely, she's fixated on his arms," she finished her report by biting her lip. "Almost makes you jealous."
Another image, a gentle man with blue eyes and a patient smile drifted through Felisa's mind. He was an old memory, soft and starting to fade as if he'd spent too much time in the sun. The brambles returned and Lwaxana's eyes widened. Something was behind them, just off the mental path of Felisa's conscious mind.
"We should go," his voice nearly sounded telepathic and in spite of herself, Lwaxana startled.
"Ronin," Felisa said, drawing the tall, intense looking man close with an arm. "Meet Lwaxana Troi."
Fear, suspicion and a vague sense of something Lwaxana couldn't even put a name to slammed into her with the intensity of a summer rainstorm. Ronin's mental presence was incredibly guarded, so much so that Lwaxana wondered how he could possibly be human. He had more mental blocks up than Jean-Luc usually did and none of them were as pleasant to sift through.
"Please, forgive him," Felisa begged politely. "He's a little shy. Our relationship is unconventional and it's not always well understood by others. I'm afraid it's made him far less charming that he should be."
Embarrassment, tempered with acceptance and something indescribable but instantly undesireable, singed the edges of Lwaxana's control and she retreated back to familiar minds. There was something beneath it that turned her stomach and made her grab the railing. Will and Deanna were laughing and happy; Lwaxana reordered her senses with them at the core.
"Let's go," Ronin said, "she will pry into things she shouldn't." This time, Lwaxana was certain it was telepathic. He didn't seem to know she could hear. He didn't know what she was, but she was now absolutely certain he wasn't human. She stared at him for a few seconds before she realized she was giving herself away. Turning her eyes back to the party, she listened with all of her abilities.
"Please, excuse us," Felisa asked softly. "Tell Beverly it was a beautiful wedding and give them both my love, would you?"
Lwaxana nodded, surprised by both the quick exit and the way Ronin was one of the rare dark spots that she couldn't read. Unlike the damn Ferengi trolls who were dead spots, like voids in her senses, Ronin was black. She searched the crowd with her eyes and her mind and landed on Deanna.
She could almost hear her daughter explaining that some beings were more private than Betazoids. Ronin might not be human, but Felisa loved him very much and who was she to judge? She'd had her own share of strange relationships and her curiosity could wait. Just because she couldn't read someone didn't mean they were out to no good. Was she getting paranoid in her old age?
Lwaxana shook her head once more, took a glass of wine from one of those dreadful Ferengi and returned to the reception with a smile on her face.
"Will," Jean-Luc sighed, "the Enterprise just isn't going to be the same." To her surprise, the captain hugged him again. Deanna suspected him of being a little tipsy, but it made him so charming it was hard to fault him for it. She still wasn't sure if it was the wine or the wedding; he was in the best mood she'd ever seen.
Her beloved Will was also feeling the effects of good wine, and Deanna was able to share the tingling, numb sensation whenever she brushed his mind. She'd been careful to mind her own consumption of alcohol, since too much of it dampened her empathic shields and the concentration of people at the wedding wasn't something she wanted to experience unshielded.
Beverly slipped in next to Deanna in the corridor on the way to the Enterprise. Her hand grabbed Deanna's shoulder, and her eyes widened in surprise. "Wes left with Robin Lefler."
"Oh, really?" Deanna asked, looking up towards Will and Jean-Luc. "She was Will's first choice for OPS."
"Wonder if Voyager will be his first choice when he gets out of the Academy," Beverly teased, squeezing Deanna's arm. Taking her hand, Deanna basked in the joy emanating from her.
"You're not upset he didn't say goodbye?" she wondered.
Beverly shook her head and her smile became gentle. "Not in a real, rational way. If he can spend time with Robin, he should."
"Sounds like the voice of experience," Deanna said, squeezing her hand. "Finally got through to him?"
Beverly's free hand ran down the side of her belly. Deanna watched her fingers caress the roundness there and that soft smile sneak up into Beverly's eyes.
"Wes deserves to enjoy his youth," she said, nodding. "He works so hard at the Academy, and now he's going to have to get used to being a big brother."
Deanna eyed her belly suspiciously. "Not planning on another prodigy, are you?"
"Healthy," Beverly said firmly, and her entire palm covered her belly like a benediction. Her eyebrows narrowed for a second and Deanna tilted her head.
"What?"
"She's moving around," Beverly stopped walking and looked at her. "She nudges against my side and it almost tickles." She stopped, and the old wound threatened to reopen.
Deanna could share her apprehension as it washed over the other woman like a wave of cold water and was quick to increase her grip on Beverly's hand. Whether or not Deanna and Will were able to have children had already spent too much time occupying Beverly's mind.
"I have been and always will be happy for you."
"Deanna," Beverly swallowed and Deanna followed her hand until she found the tiny motion of the baby. It felt like a fingertip being tapped against her palm through the layers of muscle and tissue.
"She's going to be beautiful," she promised, softening her voice. Drawing Beverly's attention back to this baby, Deanna hoped to assure her that worrying wouldn't do any good.
Beverly's smile was grateful, and Deanna shared the peace passing through her. "I'm glad Wes made it," she said to change the subject.
"He's gotten so tall," Deanna said.
"And handsome," Beverly winked, hiding a flash of sorrow with her smile. Deanna wondered if she was thinking of Jack but before she could ask, they caught up with Will and Jean-Luc at the captain's yacht.
"Thank your mother again for me, will you?" Beverly said as they joined Will and Jean-Luc at the hatch. "I've never been to a better organized feast on such short notice."
"Almost makes you afraid to see what she can do with notice, doesn't it?" Will said, wrapping his arm around Deanna's shoulders and she stopped next to him.
"Are you keeping her in suspense with the rest of us?" Beverly wondered with a tilt of her head.
Deanna looked up at Will, smiling and reaching for his cheek. "Marriage isn't the answer for everyone."
Jean-Luc welcomed Beverly's presence by putting his arms around her waist and holding her close. Beverly's thoughts blossomed up in a flash of warmth and affection.
The mirroring of emotion in the captain made Deanna smile, then Will touched her mind. "And I never made that betting pool."
"There's still time to make one for the baby's name," she sent back. "Or maybe kid number two."
"Tease," he retorted silently.
Deanna bit back her apology when she noticed neither Beverly nor Jean-Luc had missed their company in conversation. Jean-Luc's lips were against her cheek and Beverly's eyes were closed.
"We'd better let you go," Deanna insisted with a shake of her head. "We will miss you," she said, wishing her eyes weren't stinging.
"Will, Deanna," Jean-Luc released Beverly to take both of their hands and stare at them. "I don't know how to thank you. You've been an honor to serve with and a gift as friends."
Beverly hugged Will and Deanna caught her wiping her eyes.
"I'll write," Will promised. "I have to demand baby pictures and see how big you're going to get."
"Good," Beverly bit her lip and her tears started to run faster.
Deanna hugged her, feeling the tension slip from the other woman's mind as she held her tightly. "Have a good time. Don't even bother to get dressed."
Jean-Luc touched her shoulder, and the rush of pride from him made Deanna blush. "Counselor-"
"Deanna," she corrected him. "You're going to be an incredible father."
"I may still need to write with last minute panic--" Jean-Luc's hazel eyes twinkled and Deanna watched him take Beverly's hand again.
"I'll be a subspace call away," she promised. Will's arm went around her shoulders.
"I am glad your ship is smaller," Jean-Luc teased his former Number One.
"They can't all be the Enterprise, sir," Will replied with a nod of respect. Beverly and Jean-Luc walked into the captain's yacht, arm in arm. They turned and waved. Deanna brushed her own tears off her face and watched Jean-Luc's hand move towards the hatch control.
"Live long and prosper," Jean-Luc offered with a Vulcan salute.
"Give 'em hell," Will answered.
"Don't let him shark the new crew," Beverly warned.
"I won't," Deanna promised, looking up at her beloved. "And someone has to remind him Captain's aren't infallible."
"We aren't?" Will and Jean-Luc answered in unison. Deanna's gaze stayed on Beverly's as the hatched closed. How she was going to adapt to Voyager without either of their counsel was beyond her at the moment, but she kept smiling.
When the hatch sealed with a soft bang, she turned into Will's arms and sighed into his chest. He kissed her head, holding her close. "We'll see them." he promised, "and this is our adventure. You and me and a little ship called Voyager."
Deanna lifted her head and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. "Sounds romantic, Captain"
