AN: Here we are, another chapter here!
I hope you enjoy! Please don't forget to let me know what you think!
111
"You have to wake up now, Imzadi."
Deanna's first expression, as she started to wake, was a pout. It was quickly replaced, though, by a sleepy smile once her eyes were open. Beverly smiled in response and sat down on the edge of the bed so that she could finish putting on the boots she'd brought with her.
"How are you dressed so early?" Deanna asked. She rolled to the side to better talk to Beverly. Beverly averted her eyes quickly, focusing on her boots instead of her beloved's breasts when the blanket fell away from them. They had things to do, and a schedule to keep, after all.
"I'm dressed early because, when I woke you the first time this morning, I got up afterwards. You're the one who went back to sleep."
Deanna smiled, but she gave Beverly a playfully scolding look and reached a hand out to touch her leg with a fingertip.
"It's not my fault that you exhausted me," Deanna teased.
"I'm just training to build the stamina that you keep warning me I'm going to need," Beverly said. Her face grew warm against her will, but she ignored it. "I have to build it up little by little, or I'm never going to survive middle age."
"I'll try to go easy on you," Deanna teased.
Beverly straightened up and stood up.
"You need to get up," Beverly said. "Get dressed. We both have duty shifts today, but if you get up, we have time for breakfast and coffee before we have Betazoid Boot Camp, on the holodeck, with your mother."
"You don't have to do this, Beverly," Deanna said, sitting up. "Whatever insane things my mother creates for us to do—you don't have to do them."
Beverly handed Deanna the outfit she'd laid out the night before, already knowing how difficult she could find it, sometimes, to get out of bed. With a sigh, Deanna accepted her fate and started to dress herself.
"I want to be joined with you," Beverly said. "And if that means that I have to jump through any number of your mother's hoops to do it, well…I better stretch after breakfast."
Deanna laughed.
"How did I get so lucky?" She asked. Beverly answered her with a quick kiss.
"Breakfast?" Beverly asked. Deanna nodded. "Tea or coffee?"
"Coffee," Deanna said. "I think we'll both need it this morning."
"Chocolate croissant?" Beverly asked. Deanna smiled, and Beverly didn't wait for a response. She simply winked at her and made her way to the replicator in the living area of Deanna's quarters—now, she supposed, her quarters as well. She replicated breakfast and carefully set the table for them to eat, enjoying the little moments of preparing for the day.
Even though there wasn't as much time between waking and leaving the quarters as Beverly might have liked, she wanted to slow down and savor each moment here. She hadn't lied to Deanna. The mornings were her favorite times, and mornings with Deanna were always special. They were quiet and peaceful. Even in the midst of chaos, Beverly had learned that Deanna was her port in the storm.
She smiled to herself and closed her eyes as she felt arms wrap around her. Deanna rested her face against Beverly's back and squeezed her.
"What's on your mind?" Deanna asked. She hummed. "I know it's happy. Peaceful. I want to share it."
"It's you," Beverly said with a laugh. "Sit—have your breakfast."
Deanna didn't require too much prompting. She did sit. Beverly brought their cups and a pot of coffee to split between them. She also brought the hypospray that she requested from the replicator. Deanna eyed it when Beverly put it on the table.
"If we're keeping with the timeline we suggested to Dr. Bazoa," Beverly said, starting to eat her own breakfast, "then—we're supposed to start preparing for the egg harvesting."
Deanna crinkled her nose.
"That sounds worse than any Betazoid tradition my mother could create," Deanna mused. "Of course, it also sounds like something she would absolutely support."
Beverly laughed.
"If you don't want to do it," she said, "we can explore other options. We need to let Dr. Bazoa know, though so that he can make other arrangements. I doubt he'll want to do a residency aboard the Enterprise with nothing to further his research."
"I think we both know that this is the only option that will please my mother," Deanna said.
"I'm not marrying your mother, and I'm only interested in pleasing her in so much as it pleases you," Beverly said. She reached across the space between them, as they sat close to enough to have their knees touching under the table, and tapped her finger in the direction of Deanna's finger where the ring that matched Beverly's rested. "I'm willing to take on the Ambassador to Betazed, if that's what I have to do to make you happy. You tell me what you want, Deanna. I thought you wanted this, that's the only reason I even arranged things with Dr. Bazoa. But if you've changed your mind, we have other avenues."
"That wasn't what I meant," Deanna said. "Not really. Not at all, Beverly. What I meant was that the biogenetic embryo creation is the only option available to us that accomplishes everything we want."
"A child with our combined DNA," Beverly said.
"And a Betazoid daughter that I don't have to carry," Deanna said, laughing to herself.
"What if our child is a son?" Beverly asked. "I have to ask the question," she added with a shrug.
Deanna raised her eyebrows.
"How many times are you willing to try this?" Deanna asked. "I suppose that's the best answer to start with."
"The goal is at least one girl," Beverly said. Deanna nodded.
"Unless—that doesn't make you happy," Deanna said. "In which case, we can tell my mother that we're breaking with that tradition."
"Let's just take it one step at a time," Beverly offered. She waved the hypospray. "Do you want to do this, or are we exploring other options?" Deanna made a face, but she nodded.
"What about you? You have to prepare for the…the harvesting." She said, pulling away as Beverly moved to inject her.
"I took mine this morning," Beverly said. "Remember—this is twice a day until Dr. Bazoa arrives."
Deanna looked offended after Beverly finished administering the medication. She rubbed the spot with her fingers.
"You didn't say it stings," she scolded.
"You didn't ask," Beverly said, laughing to herself as she settled back in her chair. "Besides—as a doctor, I've often learned it's better not to tell people. I thought it would be better if you didn't know."
"Do we keep all of this a secret from my mother?" Deanna asked.
"I don't think we have to," Beverly said. "She can read our minds, at any rate. I don't think she'll press too much, though. She's got way too much on her mind."
111
"Oh, my—your body is beautiful," Lwaxana said, holding Beverly at arm's length. Deanna swallowed back amusement at the feeling of humor that she felt radiating from Beverly. "Don't think those things," Lwaxana scolded Beverly, clearly in response to some thought. "Now—I've always thought you were lovely, Dear, but it's different to view you as my future daughter-in-law. I'm very open-minded, you know. I can appreciate the female form for its beauty and radiant sexuality. Now—I suppose the first thing we have to discuss is whether or not this proposed joining has progressed properly to this point." Lwaxana fussed with Beverly's hair and then held her face. "Who asked who to marry them, Beverly?"
"Deanna asked me to marry her," Beverly said. "As per tradition, I'm told. A Betazoid female chooses her imzadi and proposes marriage or, at least, expresses that she is interested in proposing marriage, if such a proposal will be entertained and accepted."
Deanna laughed to herself. Beverly was a hungry student now that she recognized how important dusty old traditions were for the Betazoid culture. She recited everything she learned like a Ferengi going over the Rules of Acquisition.
"Well—that particular tradition is a bit foggy," Lwaxana said. "We have a variety of different kinds of joinings on Betazed. Of course, given that your union is—untraditional—that's the closest tradition that I think applies here. What about bonding gifts?"
"Mother," Deanna said, "could you stop harassing Beverly?"
Lwaxana didn't stop fussing with Beverly, but she did drop her hands to hold each of Beverly's shoulders.
"I'm not harassing anyone," Lwaxana said. "I am merely initiating a bonding with my daughter-in-law. Little One—last night you were offended when you thought that I wouldn't bond with her…that I wouldn't bless your union…and now you're offended that I'm attempting to initiate a bond with her? Deanna—I feel like I simply cannot win in this situation."
"It's just that—perhaps she's tired of being touched," Deanna offered, trying to put on her best smile.
"Until her mind is opened enough to begin to hear either of us, Deanna, we'll have to work on opening it the old-fashioned way. Really, Deanna…"
"It's fine," Beverly said quickly. "You can help me hear Deanna?"
Lwaxana smiled and brought her fingers back up to affectionately stroke Beverly's face.
"If you're truly her imzadi," Lwaxana said, "you will hear her, and she'll hear you. Betazoids do have some ways, though, of helping to open the mind of non-telepathic species through initiating familial bonds."
"And you?" Beverly asked. "Will I hear you?"
Lwaxana winked at her.
"If you're truly my daughter's imzadi, our bond will grow, too. Now—have you exchanged bonding gifts?"
Beverly showed Lwaxana her ring.
"We decided to combine traditions," Beverly said. "Engagement rings are common in my culture. We'll have wedding bands once we're married. We combined the rings with the Betazoid tradition of bonding gifts."
Lwaxana looked pleased.
"And you have both accepted each other's bonding gift and declared your intention to bond—mind, and heart, and soul?"
"We have exchanged our promises for now and for our joined future, Mother," Deanna offered.
"Excellent," Lwaxana declared. "Now, then…of course there's the pre-joining announcement to arrange, and we're going to have to work on opening your mind, my dear…and there are the preparations for the wedding, which I believe should probably be held in that lovely space you have here on the ship. What's it called? For entertaining?"
"Ten Forward," Deanna said with a sigh.
Lwaxana smiled at her.
"We'll make it lovely," she said. "Just lovely. There's the guest list to discuss. And the traditional bonding dance—a wedding dance, Beverly, you understand. You should start practicing that now, Deanna. You don't want to put it off and then be clumsy when everyone is looking. Can you dance, Beverly?"
"I used to dance," Beverly said. "I dance for relaxation, now. I could call up a program."
"This will be fine," Lwaxana said. The holodeck program she'd designed for their meeting, this morning, had them in a relatively empty room. "The Betazoid Waltz is a tradition after joining. When the marriage ceremony is complete, you're expected to dance for the attendees."
"That's not unlike the first dance in my culture," Beverly assured her. Deanna didn't point out that the greatest difference, perhaps, was that Beverly would be wearing clothing in a dance that was traditional to her culture.
"The Betazoid Waltz is…it's very sensual. Beautiful. It's a public demonstration of the love and passion you're bringing into your marriage," Lwaxana said.
Deanna rolled her eyes. The waltz was a beautiful dance, and it was a passionate dance, and she might be very excited about doing it with Beverly, but her mother was still over-the-top in every way possible.
For whatever reason, though, Beverly didn't seem to mind. Deanna reached out to monitor her emotions, and she felt the same thing she'd felt before—happiness, peace, and, at the moment, amusement. The smile that Beverly was wearing was genuine. It relieved a little of Deanna's building tension.
"Mother—Beverly is my fiancé," Deanna offered.
Lwaxana smiled at her and, dropping a hand to Beverly's back, she walked her over to Deanna.
"Of course, she is, Little One. Here…let me see how you look together. Well—Beverly—you are just going to have to lead."
"I don't know the dance," Beverly pointed out as Lwaxana arranged Beverly's hands on Deanna's body.
"Of course, you don't," Lwaxana said. "You have so much to learn, and so little time to learn it all—especially if we're having the wedding as quickly as Deanna wants it. I don't know why you're in such a hurry, Little One—it's not as though I don't know that you're residing in the same quarters, and I'm under no impression that you're sleeping in separate beds like the Dark Ages."
Deanna narrowed her eyes at her mother. Lwaxana smiled at her. She'd been reading her thoughts about the wedding and, possibly, about other things.
"We just don't want to wait, Mother," Deanna said. "There's really very little to prepare. A week is plenty of time to have the ceremony."
"Two weeks, Deanna," Lwaxana said. "You have to allow time for people who wish to attend to rendezvous with the ship. A week or two weeks, Little One, what does it matter if I'm not demanding you be separated from your beloved—as you well know that I could, according to Betazoid custom…"
"That's practically an ancient tradition, Mother," Deanna interrupted, feeling an uncomfortable sensation of anxiety at the thought that her mother might try to do that.
Lwaxana touched Deanna's face and tipped it toward her so that she could kiss her forehead.
"And that's why I'm not forcing you to practice it," Lwaxana said. "Besides—a good, strong sexual life is healthy. And the two of you are radiating good health and, if I may say…a fair level of satisfaction for two who are still learning their imzadi's appetites and desires. I wouldn't wish to get in the way of your growth together. It will help you bond. It is necessary, though, that you learn to exude that energy, on demand, when practicing your post-joining dance. Now—Beverly—you'll lead. How fast are you at picking up what you need to do?"
"I'm a pretty quick study," Beverly assured her.
"Excellent," Lwaxana said. "How do you make your—make your—computer or what have you play a traditional Betazoid Waltz?"
"You just request it, Mother," Deanna said. She felt Beverly's fingers tighten around her hand, and she felt her fingertips press into her back. She hadn't learned to speak telepathically with Deanna, but there were many times that Deanna felt they had developed their own language. Deanna felt what Beverly was saying to her—let her have this, just relax, enjoy the excuse to be in my arms.
Deanna smiled at Beverly, took a breath, and purposefully relaxed her muscles. Beverly mirrored her smile and visibly relaxed her own muscles.
"Computer—play a traditional Betazoid Waltz," Deanna said. A second later, the computer complied. Lwaxana smiled happily as they listened, a moment, and allowed Beverly to hear the music for the first time.
"It's beautiful," she said.
"The music isn't the only thing that's beautiful," Deanna offered. There was no need to play coy. Her mother was reading her thoughts, anyway. Beverly smiled at her.
"I could agree with that," she said.
Lwaxana put her hand on the back of each of them, pushing them a little closer together.
"The distance between you should be minimal—as non-existent as possible, really," Lwaxana said. "The Betazoid Waltz, especially after joining, is about the sensuality of two people becoming one. You're going to have to lead the first time, Little One, to show her the dance. Then, you just have to let her guide you. Trust her to take you where you should go."
Deanna held Beverly's eyes as she took the first tentative steps. She knew the dance. She'd learned it as a little girl, like most Betazoid women did, before she'd even hit puberty. She'd had to learn it for the traditional presentation ceremony on Betazed. Still, she didn't feel like a strong dancer, and she looked forward to the moment when Beverly, aware of the steps they needed to make, and in what order they needed to make them, would take control of the situation and guide her.
"I always trust her, Mother, to do just that."