DETACHED MEANT:

Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 21:

This and That

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Kathryn Janeway decided that her mother just might be the most exasperating individual in the entire Alpha Quadrant; and possibly the Gamma and Delta quadrants as well. Even Neelix at his worst, could not have held a candle to her mother's ability to aggravate.

"Mother, you really should have discussed your inviting my crew to my husband's barbecue…"

Her mother interrupted her. "This is your home, too!"

Kathryn ignored her mother as she continued speaking as if she hadn't been cut off. "You really should have discussed this with us before you sent out the invitations and then arranged everything," Kathryn grumbled even as her eyes glazed over trying to decide exactly which 'casual' patio china should be used for the barbecue. She stared at the padd that Ludvig had handed her with the fourteen differently patterned informal dinnerware sets from which she had to choose. When she had married Jean-Luc, she had no idea that her husband's household had more than one antique set of dinnerware for something as simple as a barbecue.

Who really needs more than one set of dishes for a crowd?...

"Kathryn, don't be silly. I know you. And I think that I know Jean-Luc well enough to know what he would have said too, if I had bothered to ask both of you first, for permission. You would have said 'no'. Jean-Luc would have said 'yes'. Or vice versa." Gretchen finished folding a pile of onesies that had been incorrectly folded for some reason, before she stored them on a shelf inside the nursery armoire. Then she glanced about the newly re-created nursery to see if there was anything else that needed to be done – properly. "I merely just kept you from having an argument."

"You don't know Jean-Luc as well as you think, if you can imagine that we would argue over something like this."

"Precisely my point, Katie, dear. I just saved you from undergoing any marital stress over something like this."

Kathryn stifled the impulse to roll her eyes in front of her mother, for her mother was not above chastising her daughter, regardless of how many years she had been missing. Then she realized what her mother had been doing. It took seven years of learning how to master her emotions in the Delta Quadrant in order to keep Kathryn from not revealing her new-found fear to her mother. In her cool, calm and collected 'captain's' voice, she a bit too-casually asked, "Mother, you're not rearranging Ryllis' nursery, are you?"

"Of course not, Kathryn. I'm just making sure that everything is in readiness."

Kathryn was not reassured, for Mildred had explained that one of the unbreakable rules of Picard house was never to upset Ryllis. For Ryllis was at Picard House on her own terms and not those of Jean-Luc Picard.

"Mother, I am months away from giving birth. There is no need…"

"One can never be too prepared. Take it from a lady who knows what she is doing, for I am an old hand at being a grandmother."

"That's not what Phoebe says," Kathryn muttered.

"What does Phoebe know about little girls? So far, she's only given birth to a son. I, at least, have raised two daughters…" She dramatically sighed. "Mind you, Elizabeth Paris has enough grandchildren to form her own Pariseses Squares team…"

As Gretchen continued speaking her mind, Kathryn glanced down at her padd, and decided that maybe picking china was a better way to occupy her time, than to listen to her mother drone on about how she now only had one-and-a-half grandkids to show for all of her mothering efforts.

And then it hit her like a graviton wave. How many years as a captain lost in the Delta Quadrant had she dreamed of listening to her mother complain? She dropped her pad, pushed herself up out of the antique ash rocking chair, and enveloped her mother in as giant of a bear hug her tiny stature would allow.

"Oh, Mother. You don't know… It is so good to hear you complain again. You don't know how much I missed it…" Tears threatened as she then kissed her mother's cheek and hugged her tightly again, burying her face on the shoulder of her mother's soft cotton hand-crocheted sweater. Of course, her mother smelled like lavender. She always had and always would.

"Kathryn, I am not the complaining type!" But the look in Gretchen's eye, said that she understood her daughter's emotions. "You're home," she whispered as she hugged her daughter back. "You are really, totally, absolutely, finally home…"

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"Kathryn?"

"In here," she called out, as she splashed about a little.

Jean-Luc was not exactly that surprised to discover that his wife was taking a bath in their luxurious master bathroom at the end of the day. He opened the connecting door from his closet/dressing room, and entered; his stockinged feet padded against the heated tiles.

He paused and took in the view. A moment later he started removing his duty jacket.

"I take it that you're happy to see me?" she remarked as she inspected her husband, noticing how he was viscerally responding to the sight of her nakedness.

Jean-Luc stopped undressing. "Well, yes, if you don't mind my joining you…"

She laughed, pleased that the sight of her naked pregnant body shielded only by the occasional bubble still could get a rise out of her husband. She felt a purely feminine response to the heat in his gaze. "The water is warm," she advised, as she lifted her arm toward him, "and this lady is hot...," she teased.

He quickly removed the rest of his uniform. He walked up to the sunken ivory to amber striated marble tub.

"Care to wash my back?" Kathryn scooted forward so that Jean-Luc could step down into the tub, behind her.

"Always," was his simple answer, as Kathryn got herself comfy against his chest before she angled her face about for a kiss.

It was sufficient incentive.

About thirty minutes later, they helped each other dry off, and then get ready for bed. Jean-Luc put on his navy-blue robe and then left, in search of a dinner that he knew he would find in stasis in the family dining room. He didn't need to ask if Kathryn had already eaten for his wife was diligently following all of the EMH's 'rules' including what to eat and how often to eat. Though he did offer to bring her back a snack which Kathryn declined.

A little while later, Kathryn turned toward her husband as he climbed into their bed.

"Twins asleep?" For she knew that he always went to check in on them before he went to bed.

"They were when I finished my 'Flotter' story." He chuckled as he slid closer to Kathryn, moving about the sage colored Bringolian sheets and duvet. "I must admit that I did not expect either of them to like 'Flotter' – much less 'Trevis'."

Kathryn threatened to swat him.

"Elitist snob," she ribbed.

Jean-Luc ignored the gesture and her words as he explained, "I guess that there are some aspects of childhood tastes that are universal to children – which as an adult, I do not comprehend."

She nodded in understanding. "I read Flotter when I was a child, dreaming of being able to play with him. However, even though I was an admiral's daughter, my parents would have never permitted the idea of interactive holonovels as entertainment for their daughters – even if a lot of my friends were allowed to enjoy them. We were supposed to read and use our imaginations. And that was that."

He could appreciate that point of view, especially when one considered his Papa not to mention Robert and their attitudes toward modern technology. Suddenly tired, Jean-Luc yawned. Kathryn mirrored this action as well.

Kathryn didn't think it that strange that her bedtime was the same as her step-children, for Jean-Luc usually rose about four-thirty and she normally crawled out of bed about five when she had no other choice. "Which bedroom?"

Jean-Luc took a moment before he understood what she meant. "William's room. After Anna fell asleep, I carried her back to her bedroom. And then returned to reading until William closed his eyes."

She chuckled.

"What?"

"Are you ever going to call William by his real name?"

Jean-Luc carefully considered her question. "I will when my son requests it," was his answer.

"You're a stubborn man," she declared, as she rolled over so that they could 'spoon'.

"Speaking of stubborn…"

She chuckled again into her pillows. "Yes, I did have a 'discussion' with my mother today."

"Did it do any good?"

"She's a Janeway, Jean-Luc. What do you think happened?"

"She's going to run our home from now on?"

"Something like that. I'll try to control her as best I can."

"Kathryn, play the baby granddaughter card whenever you can. That might help."

She could tell that her husband really wasn't that upset by her mother's meddling and controlling. For when and if, Jean-Luc Picard ever needed to take 'control' of a situation, he would do it, regardless of what her mother might think.

"I should warn you."

By the very tone of Kathryn's voice, Jean-Luc stiffened. "What?"

"Pheebs wants to come for a visit… Something about getting away from her tyrant of a husband."

He sighed, and then pulled his wife closer to his chest, with her head brushing up against his olive colored silk pajama shirt.

"I have no objections if she wishes to come," he quietly stated deciding that he did need to get to know his sister-in-law better. "And she can bring her 'tyrant' and Scotty as well, if she wishes it."

"Good. Maybe we can talk her into painting a mural for the nursery."

"You'd better warn her, Kathryn. If she does, then William and Anna will both want murals as well for their bedrooms."

"With Pheebs, idle hands are not something that you want to be around, when she has them. Mother will agree, and that will keep her busy and away from poking her nose around our dungeons or instructing Ludvig on how to be a gourmet cook."

Jean-Luc sort-of followed the convoluted thinking of his wife's words. Assuming that Picard House did not have an official dungeon of which he had yet to be informed or had not noticed, he decided that his wife might be referring to one or more of the sub-basements in the modern wing. "I had noticed that even Gretchen refrains from interfering in Ludvig's domain too much. The fact that he even lets her bake brownies in his kitchen is mind-boggling enough as it is. Ludvig has never ever let Mildred near his ovens. And believe me, that lady has tried…"

Kathryn snuggled, with visions of caramel chocolate brownies for breakfast. Or maybe that peach bread pudding she saw in a container in the small stasis unit. Then she thought of something more pressing. "Flotter," she announced.

This word surprised her husband, for he had just been considering nodding off. "What?"

"I want to hear your 'Flotter' voice."

Jean-Luc's voice dropped half an octave. "What?"

"Your 'Flotter' voice. I wish to hear it."

"Kathryn," he warned.

"Pretty please?" And if that wasn't incentive enough, she elbowed him lightly in the shoulder. "Flotter."

"Oh, Kathryn…," he whispered, in his falsetto, 'Flotter' voice. The things he would do to keep his pregnant wife happy. "Sweet dreams… Belle nuit…"

She sighed, snuggled closer, and then closed her eyes, but sleep wasn't coming easy this night.

A while later, she thought she heard him murmur, "Beverly…"

With a sigh, she forced her eyes to close again, knowing that she really shouldn't be hurt by what her husband had mumbled. But she was…

TBC