AN: Here we are, another piece to this one.
I hope you enjoy! Please don't forget to let me know what you think (and that you're out there, reading)!
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"Ow! Stop, Mother!"
Beverly's head was already throbbing. In fact, it was the first time in her life that she was pretty sure she understood, perfectly, the use of the adjective "splitting" for the description of a headache. She could, sincerely, imagine her skull cracking right down the middle like an egg, and she was beginning to think she might welcome the sweet relief of death that would follow such an occurrence. Beverly loved Deanna dearly, but each sound sliced through her, and Deanna's arguing with her mother had been continual for the last little while.
At the replicator, Beverly requested a hypospray and dosed herself with a strong enough analgesic that she imagined she would have to find some relief. Though her throbbing headache didn't stop entirely, she got some immediate relief, and she was thankful for any little change.
Of course, she knew perfectly well what was really causing her headache, and despite what Deanna might suggest, it wasn't Lwaxana Troi or her attempts to prepare them for the reception of their traditional Betazoid pre-joining announcement.
"Ambassador…Mrs. Troi, please…" Beverly said, finding she had enough control over her feelings to force out some protest that might save Deanna from the efforts of her mother to force her into a dress whose bodice, though perfect for accentuating her many assets, was clearly being laced to be very uncomfortably tight.
Beverly's plan worked at least momentarily, because Lwaxana lost interest in trying to force her daughter into the possibly-wrong-sized dress and crossed their quarters to Beverly.
She looked at Beverly with a furrowed brow.
"Are you unwell, Beverly? Because—I'm sensing some strong discomfort from you that's clouding your thoughts, but…that can also be the only reason that you're calling me anything except Lwaxana this close to the reception for your pre-joining announcement. I'm hurt that you would…you would blatantly reject even the smallest aspect of my attempts to establish familial bonds with you by calling me something so…cold."
"I'm sorry…that wasn't my intention," Beverly said. She thought about adding something else, but the words didn't immediately come.
Lwaxana reached her hand up and placed it behind Beverly's neck like she was checking in an old-fashioned way for a fever. Her fingers were cool, her touch was soft, and Beverly found that she almost felt as if she had no choice except to close her eyes and enjoy the affection that she felt in the touch—a genuine tenderness. She exhaled with the peace that the touch brought her, and her headache subsided entirely.
When she opened her eyes, Lwaxana was smiling at her. She brushed Beverly's hair back as though she were her own mother.
"Better, dear?" She asked.
"What did you do?" Beverly asked.
Lwaxana winked at her.
"Just because you're marrying into the Fifth House of Betazed, doesn't mean you get to know all our secrets," Lwaxana said.
"Mother," Deanna scolded from across the room where she was doing her own work to rearrange the dress that her mother had been, essentially, trying to stuff her into.
Lwaxana laughed. She looked back at Beverly.
"Just a bit of transference, my darling," Lwaxana said. "Stop thinking such absurd things—it's not magic. I simply absorbed your discomfort and gave you a little of the happiness that you've given me, through joining with my daughter and making her so very happy, to help soothe your suffering. Feeling better?"
"Much," Beverly said. "Thank you, but…I didn't know that Betazoids can do that. That's amazing. It's—it's truly remarkable."
"Oh…that's just a parlor trick," Lwaxana said, walking back toward Deanna, presumably to start fussing with her again.
"Lwaxana…" Beverly said.
Lwaxana stopped walking and smiled at Beverly over her shoulder.
"You know, you could call me mother," she offered.
"Mother," Deanna said, this time sounding exasperated more than angry, as she had before. With her dress still somewhat hanging off of her, she started to try to do something with her hair in front of the mirror.
Lwaxana decided to forego forcing her daughter into the dress for at least a while longer, and turned her attention back to Beverly.
"Come on, Beverly dear, let's start getting you ready. Come on. Out of that stuffy old uniform," Lwaxana said. Beverly hesitated before starting to undress in front of Lwaxana. "Beverly, don't tell me you're going to play shy. We're Betazoids, dear…"
"Mother, Beverly isn't a Betazoid," Deanna offered around a few hairpins she held between her lips.
"She's marrying into a Betazoid house—a prominent Betazoid house—and my grandchildren will be Betazoids. There's no room for modesty here. Besides—you have a truly beautiful body. It's easy for me to see what attracted Deanna's attention."
"Mother, Beverly is my fiancé," Deanna offered.
Lwaxana smiled.
"Of course, she is," Lwaxana said. "Honestly, Deanna—I'm just appreciating the human form for what it is, and I'm trying to get a deeper understanding of your relationship."
"You're being insatiable," Deanna scolded.
Lwaxana merely laughed.
Beverly worked her way out of her uniform. Her stomach churned a little with anxiety—not because she was soon nearly nude in front of her future mother-in-law, but because it was all suddenly becoming very real. They were dressing in traditional Betazoid gowns, according to Lwaxana, at least, for the reception for their pre-joining announcement. This was when it became publicly official: Beverly Howard Crusher would be joined to Deanna Troi in a traditional Betazoid wedding. Everyone would enjoy dinner, tonight, in their honor, to celebrate their upcoming union. From this point forward, they were both considered off the proverbial market entirely. It was, as Beverly understood it, something of a ceremony for claiming intent to ownership—like calling dibs in the old Earth tradition—of one's chosen mate.
"I know it feels overwhelming," Lwaxana said. "Are you changing your mind?"
Beverly caught the panicked look from Deanna, and she hoped that she was able to send to her the emotions that she tried to push in her direction. She felt Lwaxana's hand make circles on her back.
"There—there—anxiety is expected before a wedding," Lwaxana said. "It's not as if I'm going to cancel your ceremony and force you to be without each other forever just because you're feeling some of your delightful little human butterflies. Honestly—you're both being so dramatic this afternoon that I hardly know what's come over you. I never thought I'd be the subdued one. Here—let's start getting you dressed. This will look lovely on you with your complexion, dear."
Beverly took the emerald green gown and started to work her way into it. Deanna was still working on her hair, and Beverly wondered if she truly wanted a style that was so detailed, or if she was simply trying to keep her mother at bay for a little longer.
"You probably already know," Beverly said, "but—perhaps we should tell you, anyway."
Immediately, her future mother-in-law's hands were on her as she worked to dress her properly in the elaborate gown. Beverly was grateful for the help. She might have never navigated it all correctly, and she knew that she'd never handle fastening it or tightening the laced corset on her own.
"Oh good," Lwaxana said. "You're finally going to tell me about my grandchildren. I wondered how long you were going to try to keep it all a secret." When Beverly looked at her over her shoulder, Lwaxana rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Beverly, if you're going to look so surprised every time, it's going to be exhausting. I know you've been worrying about it for days. I was starting to be concerned that you might cause yourself some kind of physical harm, dear, with all the unnecessary stress and strain of being some sort of emotional martyr. You'll do much better once you've learned to connect with Deanna and I entirely. You'll find such freedom in the honesty."
Beverly accepted that she still had a great deal of work to do to get used to being frequently in the presence of a full-blown telepath.
"Then—you already know, and there's nothing to tell," Beverly said. She felt like Lwaxana's response was clear. Without saying it, she snatched the laces on the corset and Beverly winced at the feeling.
"If both of you are going to be this difficult," Lwaxana grumbled, not finishing the thought before she changed her tone and the direction of her words. "I do have the ability to turn off, if you will, my telepathic abilities at will. I may have picked up a little here or there, mostly because you're endlessly worrying about something, my dear, which is probably very bad for your health, but I've given you your privacy to allow you to choose to share with me when you're comfortable doing so."
Beverly wondered if that was true, and her answer came in the form of another hard snatch to the laces and a brief second of feeling like she might suffocate or be forced to use an osteogenic stimulator to repair a rib or two. As soon as she was able to somewhat comfortably draw a breath again, she spoke.
"We've started the process for the biogenetic embryo creation," Beverly said. "It has to be done in steps, and we've started the first step so that we're ready for the egg harvesting when Dr. Bazoa comes aboard to start his work on the Enterprise."
"Egg harvesting? That sounds absolutely barbaric," Lwaxana declared.
"My sentiments, exactly," Deanna said, walking over. She crossed her arms across her chest, clearly choosing to ignore that her mother had never fastened the upper part of her dress and her breasts were barely covered at all.
"It has to be done if we're going through with the procedure," Beverly said to Deanna as much as to Lwaxana. "We have other options we could explore, but…"
"But the biogenetic embryo creation is the only option that achieves what we both want," Deanna said as her way of saying that she wasn't changing her mind anymore than Beverly was changing her mind about the joining that they would be officially announcing tonight. Deanna touched Beverly's face affectionately, and she offered her a soft smile to confirm her feelings.
"In the space of time leading up to the harvesting," Beverly said, looking at Deanna, but speaking to Lwaxana, "we have to take the stimulation and chromosomal-alteration formula that Dr. Bazoa's team has produced. It stimulates the production of a larger than normal number of eggs for release, so that they'll be available for the harvesting, and it changes the chromosomal make-up of the eggs to prepare them for the unification process that follows the harvesting."
"We take the medication twice a day," Deanna said to her mother, who was looking at both of them like Beverly had just suggested that they were taking up Gorn wrestling as a hobby. "It stings terribly, and there is a long list of undesirable side effects." She sighed. "But it's only necessary for two weeks, and it's necessary for us to have our family just as we want it."
"The side effects are, on the whole, mild," Beverly offered. "And they're mostly hormonal in nature. Changes in mood, breasts that are swollen and tender, sexual side-effects…that sort of thing." She nodded toward Deanna who, arguably, was either being more affected by the drugs or was simply feeling a bit more dramatic thanks to them. "The breast tenderness is probably why Deanna finds her dress so uncomfortable." Beverly didn't mention that her own dress was squeezing her tender breasts to the point that she was clenching her teeth, every now and again, to tolerate the discomfort. "Maybe we could—loosen them?"
Lwaxana's interest, suddenly, was entirely on Deanna. And, though Deanna was more irritable in the past few days than Beverly had ever seen her before, she was also far more affectionate and loving when tenderness was being offered to her—she had proven that to Beverly several times over, including visiting her in her office that morning just to remind her of how very much she was loved and desired. Though the feelings of tenderness that Deanna felt toward her mother were very different, it was clear that she did feel especially affectionate toward her mother at the moment. She looked like she was suddenly ready to drink in every bit of affection Lwaxana was ready to slather onto her.
"Oh—Little One," Lwaxana said, holding Deanna's face and pressing their foreheads together. She pulled away from her, turned her around, and started to make a little more room for her in the dress that she'd laced to the point that it might have caused Deanna injury to wear it for long. "You know, Beverly, Betazoid women keep a great deal of their reproduction private."
"As a Federation medical provider, I'm aware," Beverly said.
"Well—you may as well know that it's because such things are particularly difficult for Betazoid women. The layers upon layers of experiences that go into it all…you can't possibly imagine."
"Betazoids have menstrual cycles that very closely match those of humans," Beverly offered. "What we do know of Betazoid pregnancy and delivery is that it's also closely related to that of humans, though their pregnancies are usually just a bit longer."
"But it's all far more intense, dear," Lwaxana said. "No—you can't truly understand. You'll just have to be patient with Deanna. She'll need your love and support—your attention. You can't imagine how trying this whole thing will be for her…"
"Mother, I'm not an invalid," Deanna offered softly. Beverly bit the inside of her cheek and hoped that nobody was butting in on her thoughts at the moment. Deanna was clearly not hating her mother's attentions, at the moment, like she normally would.
"Of course, you're not, Little One, but what you're embarking on is something that is going to be beautiful, and wonderful, and extremely taxing for you. And if Beverly is going to spend her life married to a Betazoid woman, she ought to understand the emotional and physical obstacles you face with every aspect of your reproductive health throughout the span of your lifetime. It will help her to be a more understanding and attentive partner. The kind of partner that you deserve."
Beverly felt herself bristle, and she accredited it to the same hormonal responses that she'd already mentioned. After all, Betazoid or not, she was absorbing two hyposprays a day of the same formula.
"Mother—Beverly is the most caring and supportive person that I've ever known," Deanna said sincerely. Beverly felt herself relax a little. Deanna gave her a sympathetic look, and she waved her hand at her. Beverly felt like she understood, and she turned so that Deanna could loosen the bodice on her dress, allowing her to be as comfortable as it seemed Lwaxana was now going to allow Deanna to be in light of her obvious suffering.
Lwaxana appeared, a moment later, in front of Beverly's face. She started to fuss with Beverly's hair, apparently deciding that Beverly could neither do her own hair nor choose her own style. Beverly tried to push all of her thoughts out of her mind. She tried to focus only on the relief she felt with Deanna loosening her dress, and the fact that—despite any minor hiccup in shared moodiness they might be experiencing—she was happy that this evening they would take the first official step into marrying each other and truly beginning their future.
The last thought relaxed her.
"Of course, Beverly is a wonderful partner," Lwaxana said. "I'm just helping her to be more aware of how to be a good partner to a Betazoid woman. She can hardly argue with that."
Beverly laughed to herself.
"No," she said. "I can't argue with that. I want to be the best partner to Deanna that I can be."
"Of course, you do," Lwaxana said. "Because you're absolutely wonderful, and you love her as she deserves to be loved. Now—let's hear your recitation of the vows of intention. We don't want you to do so poorly that I'm forced to reject your intentions to marry."
"Mother!" Deanna protested, possibly in reaction to the jolt of anxiety that surged through Beverly at the thought that, if she stumbled over some word in some tradition that Lwaxana thought was vital, she might dissolve their entire relationship.
Lwaxana was amused.
"Oh—I'm just kidding. Really. You're both so sensitive!"