Snow Falling Softly IV

2370

A squeal brought Beverly's attention back to the present. Andrew had picked up Gracie and thrown her over his shoulder. She pounded at Andrew's back with small fists. "Put me down!"

"No." He continued trudging towards the small house that had come into view.

"Andrew, please!"

"No. Not until you apologize."

"I'm not saying I'm sorry." Gracie scowled.

"Then I'm not letting you down." Andrew's even tone of voice hadn't changed. Even as Beverly watched one of the small scenes she'd missed because of her choices, fear of Deanna recognizing the similarity of Andrew's voice to Jean-Luc's tainted the amusing image.

Gracie resumed beating on her brother's back. He ignored it. "You know," he said, "If you don't say you're sorry, and you stay up there all upside down, all the blood will rush to your head and it'll pop."

"You're lying. Like when you told me there were trolls under every bridge on Caldos." Gracie's scowl became deeper.

"There are trolls under every bridge on Caldos," Andrew said. "I told you the truth. It's Allie that told you different. Who are you going to believe? Allie or me?"

"Allie," came Gracie's immediate reply.

Andrew's eyes shot a look at Allie. In reply, Allie shrugged. "It's not my fault you're the world's worst liar."

"I wasn't lying. And she believed me for two straight hours. Then you ruined all the fun, like you usually do."

With Andrew distracted by the argument with Allie, Gracie renewed her struggles to break free of his grip. As they drew up to the house, Andrew finally dumped Gracie into the pile of snow built up alongside the walkway. Allie stepped onto the porch and opened the door, warm air flowing into the chill of the outdoors. Beverly watched as Gracie ran full-force at Andrew's back and pushed him into the snow. "Hey!" he shouted as Gracie gave into a fit of laughter.

Beverly felt her heart continuing to crack. How many of these moments had she already missed?

"Come on inside," Allie said, motioning while she went inside herself.

Beverly saw Deanna's question before her friend could ask it. "Please, come in," she said to her friend. "Have some hot chocolate before you head back to the ship."

"The ship!" Gracie said as she struggled out of the snow. "The Enterprise, right?" she asked Deanna.

"Yes, that's the ship I work on with Beverly," the counselor answered.

Gracie walked up to Deanna, took her hand, and whispered into Deanna's ear, "Andrew really wants to see the ship."

Unfortunately, Gracie's idea of a whisper carried quite well to anyone within earshot. "Andrew heard that," her tall brother said, with both irritation and hope fighting for expression on his face. Beverly wondered what Andrew really wanted to do with his life. He had never shared his true aspirations with anyone.

"Do you?" Deanna asked.

Beverly eagerly awaited the answer, wanting some insight into what Andrew Howard wanted to be. Andrew remained silent as they entered the house and began to peel off the layers of clothing required to stay warm in the winter. The boy finally opened his mouth to answer when a large dog came bounding into the room and up to the group.

Deanna looked terrified. Beverly fought a smile at the counselor's reaction. The large dog was actually a very large dog, one of the giant breeds of Earth's canines. While the Irish Wolfhound weighed a good one hundred and sixty pounds, and his size alone looking fearsome, the dog was actually a big baby who loved people.

"What is that?" Deanna asked.

Andrew didn't hold back his laugh. "A dog. His name is Conal. He's friendly, wouldn't hurt you, I promise."

Troi didn't move, obviously not convinced. "Are you certain that's a dog? A Terran dog?"

Andrew grinned. "Yes, I'm sure. It's a very old breed, called an Irish Wolfhound. They look all scary, but they really just like to sack out in front of the fireplace." He rubbed the gray dog's head. Conal licked the boy's hand in reply.

Deanna glanced over at Beverly for reassurance.

The doctor's smile broke free. "Deanna, I had no idea you were afraid of dogs."

"It isn't funny!" said Troi.

"He's a big teddy bear," Beverly said.

"And he's much better than any of Allie's choices of pets," Andrew said.

"I heard that!" Allie shouted from the kitchen, then walked into the living room. "There's nothing wrong with horses."

Deanna glanced at Beverly again. "Horses?"

The doctor nodded. Troi shook her head in disbelief.

"I wasn't talking about the horses," Andrew said to Allie.

"Oh, honestly." Allie had reached the point of exasperation. "My tarantula died years ago. When will you get over it?"

"Never. It's still a tarantula."

"Isn't that a large Terran spider?" Deanna asked.

Andrew nodded. "Big hairy one at that."

Gracie stepped over and whispered into Deanna's ear. "Andrew's afraid of spiders."

The boy glared at them all, pulled on his coat, and went outside with Conal. "He doesn't like to be afraid of anything, does he?" Deanna asked.

"No, he doesn't," Beverly said. "He doesn't. But he has such an overactive imagination." She continued explaining as they made their way into the kitchen. "He's had problems with it since he was very small. He had horrible nightmares and became convinced that things lived in his closet and under his bed and they would attack him when he was asleep. At times he refused to even go to sleep."

"And he's stubborn as hell," Allie said from her seat at the table.

"You aren't one to talk," Beverly shot back.

"If you're going to be technical about it, Doctor," Deanna said, "You shouldn't be talking either."

Gracie climbed into the seat next to Allie. "That leaves only me," she said. Then frowned. "Except I don't know the story."

Beverly almost didn't know the story either. Nana had used all her knowledge and experience to figure out a solution to Andrew's sleeping problem. Only when everything failed and Andrew continued to refuse to sleep did she tell Beverly about the boy's troubles.

2367

Beverly Crusher finally got a moment to have a face-to-face communique with Nana instead of text. The first thing Felisa said was, "I need your help."

Crusher blinked. "Who are you and what have you done with my grandmother?"

Felisa gave her a woeful smile. "I can't figure it out, Beverly." She went on to give her granddaughter an explanation of the situation. A few months ago, Andrew had started having insomnia. Once he was finally able to sleep, he'd wake up screaming from nightmares. He'd then say that there were monsters everywhere in his room, hiding, waiting to get him when he fell asleep. Nothing seemed to calm him down or make him feel safe. The boy was starting to suffer from some serious sleep deprivation. "You didn't have problems like this as a child," Felisa continued. "Neither did your father." She paused. "Did the boy's father have problems like this as a child?"

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Beverly asked.

"I didn't want to worry you. You have so much to do on your ship and so many people to take care of. I didn't think it would come to this." The older woman's face held concern in its wise features.

Guilt once again took hold of Beverly's emotional well-being. "I should be there."

Felisa frowned, one so slight that it could only be detected by those who knew her well, as it passed across her face like a subtle wave. "No, you shouldn't."

"What?" The question shot out by reflex.

This time, the frown stayed on the older woman's face. "You'll remind him. Because you serve on the Enterprise, and you faced the Borg, and..." she trailed off.

Beverly finished for her. "He thinks the Borg will get him."

"Yes."

Quiet spoke. Neither woman knowing what to say, let the quiet speak for them. Growing uncomfortable, Felisa changed the subject. "Remember how wonderful your grandfather was with animals?"

The conversation shift bothered the doctor, but the prior silence had bothered her more, so she went along with it. "Yes. He always insisted on keeping horses in the old stables, on having cats in the barn, and two dogs around the house." The memory made her smile.

"Allie has decided that there should be horses in the stable again." Felisa sighed. "I think we have another vet in the family."

"Is that such a bad thing?"

"It is when when there's three horses in the barn as we speak. That girl." A smile pulled at Felisa's mouth. "Reminds me of someone I know."

"And what about Andrew?" Beverly ignored her grandmother's continued attempt at keeping the conversation away from her son's trouble. She drummed her fingers on her desk. "Nana, do you remember what I did whenever I was scared?"

"Other than wake me up in the middle of the night?"

"When I stopped waking you up. I found something else to keep me feeling safe. I had one of the dogs sleep in my room with me at night. I knew if anything tried to hurt me, she'd protect me. Maybe that could help Andrew."

Felisa nodded. "You know, you could be right."

So Andrew had picked out a puppy from a new litter in town. Nana sent Beverly photographs of the boy with the pup as both continued to grow. Andrew had neglected to tell his great-grandmother exactly how big an Irish Wolfhound would be full-grown, and Nana's letters when she found out were full of expletives Beverly hadn't known her grandmother to use.

2370

Beverly went up to her grandmother's room after Deanna bid her goodbyes, saying she'd be visiting again in the morning. The doctor wanted to find her grandmother's journal and get a closer look at all she'd missed of the lives of the children that were now downstairs completing homework. Her mind wandered as she looked around, this time thinking of her present difficulties. WIth Nana's death, Allie, Andrew, and Gracie would be under Beverly's guardianship. She knew the captain would grant permission for the three to come aboard the Enterprise, but having them in such close proximity to the captain was the last thing she wanted. Or really, the last thing she could deal with at the moment. Wesley's discovery had been hard enough and she and her oldest son hadn't even finished dealing with it between themselves.

Realizing the journal must be in the bedside stand's drawer, Beverly tread lightly across the ancient hardwood floor, counterpoint to her heavy thoughts. What if Wesley told the captain? The question jolted the doctor to a dead stop. She shook it off. If Wesley had told the captain anything, then Jean-Luc would have already been down here demanding answers. For a man who played on the holodeck by dabbling in mystery novels, he certainly detested mysteries in his own life. No, so far, he had no idea. And with Beverly not beginning to be able to predict his reaction to her secrets, she had no desire to tell him. She didn't want to destroy the friendship they had so carefully built up again after nearly killing it entirely when she'd left for Starfleet Medical. Ever so slowly when she returned the next year, they settled back into the secure roles of best friends, and never mentioned what had happened before she left.

But now it seemed, there was no obvious and painless escape for anyone involved. She would have to decide between the children and Starfleet.

A shout from downstairs interrupted her line of thought. "That's the stupidest argument I've ever heard!" Allie said.

"Obviously you haven't been listening to your own then!" replied Andrew.

"I just want to hear what happens to the wolf!" said Gracie.

Beverly's legs carried her quickly back down the stairs. She stopped at the bottom, presented with Andrew holding one book, Allie holding another, and Gracie standing on the couch watching them both.

"You're reading her the worst translation possible. Completely untrue to the original text," Allie was telling Andrew, shaking her book for emphasis. "He starts one of Earth's oldest stories with the word 'So.' So! Totally incorrect."

Andrew rolled his eyes. "And that's because whenever you start a story, you use ostentatious words like 'lo!' and 'behold!' complete with a flourish from your arms."

"Can someone please just tell me what happens to the wolf!" Gracie said again, her piping voice nearly as loud as she could make it.

The doctor finally intervened. "What's going on?"

"I was telling Gracie a story," Andrew said, turning to face her.

"A mistranslated story," Allie said.

"Only if you insist on being blindly literal," Andrew said.

Allie threw up her hands. "Fine, you tell her whatever stories continue to pop into your head. Maybe you'll add some trolls to the story, too."

"I don't see why I'd have to, there's already a dragon."

"A dragon? Really?" asked Gracie. "But Grendel wasn't a dragon."

"No," Andrew said, lowering his voice, "Grendel was a monster. He had a twin sister that was--."

"That's enough," Beverly said before Andrew could get out whatever insult he had ready for his twin. Allie shot Andrew a parting glare and went upstairs.

The boy tapped the book on his free hand, his gray eyes showing his troubled thoughts. "Beverly, she's more grumpy than usual," he said. "I mean, normally she's fine with whatever stories I tell Gracie, and really doesn't care that much about what translation of Beowulf I use. Do you think you could talk to her? I'd try, but I think she'd throw the book at my head, knock me out, and ask questions later."

Beverly nodded. At once, she felt both excited and daunted by the task. It was becoming harder and harder not to fall into the role of mother and remain in the role of an older cousin.

"Okay. Good. 'Cause I have to tell this monster what happens to Beowulf."

She left them on the couch, Andrew reading the ancient tale to his younger sister. Allie had gone into her room, the door shut. Beverly knocked. When no reply came, Beverly cracked the door a bit and peeked through the small opening. "Can I come in?" she asked.

"Oh, it's you. Yeah, as long as my brother isn't around."

"No, he stayed downstairs, figuring you'd try and knock him out if he came up." The doctor opened the door and slipped inside. "Anything you want to talk about?"

Allie avoided eye contact. "I don't know." With the soft light from the lamp on the desk, Beverly could see melancholy creasing the girl's brow and swimming in her eyes. "I mean..." She sighed. "Not yet."

"I'm around whenever you need someone to listen."

Allie nodded. "Oh. Tomorrow." Change of subject. The doctor recognized the tendency to avoid expressing being upset, much less what made one upset. Something she dealt with with herself, and with a certain man in her life.

Beverly raised an eyebrow. "Tomorrow?"

"I forgot to tell you. Tomorrow, Andrew and I have a fencing tournament. Final one of the season and all that. Nana said she'd haunt us for eternity if we didn't compete, since it's a team event for our school and our teammates need us." Allie gave a slight smile. "Funny, how now she'll support our 'barbaric sport' from the grave, but when she was alive, all she could say was that we were barbarians for wanting to stab other people with swords."

"She knew how important it is to you both. She also knew that you need to keep on living your lives, even though she's gone." Nana had been like that. Knowing exactly what people needed, exactly how people thought.

Allie bit her lip for a moment, then said, "I think I'll call it a night."

The doctor bid her goodnight and went back to Nana's bedroom. She'd forgotten about the fencing. When Nana had told her, with indignant outrage, about the barbaric sport the Caldos school had introduced, and the immediate interest the twins had taken in it, Beverly had been pleased, serving to irritate Felisa even more. Each time one or both of the children did something that reminded her of their father, she felt they had some kind of connection to him, even though neither party knew of the existence of the other. With the news fresh in her mind, Beverly had asked Jean-Luc to teach her how to fence, so that if she ever got to watch them or talk with them about the sport, she would know what was going on. He'd been so surprised.

2368

"This is still a shock to me," he told her, lacing up his shoes from his seat on the bench beside her.

"I'm curious," she replied. "I always wondered why you indulge in such a barbaric sport."

Her comment made Picard look up sharply, eyebrows raised in protest. "I'll have you know that this sport is one of the most civilized in existence, one hundreds of years old, a fine tradition."

Beverly graced him with a smile. "You know what I think?"

He stood up, looking at her with trepidation. She knew that particular look well. He most certainly wanted to know what she was thinking, but knew it would be a poke at his expense. "Yes," he said, in his most captainly tone.

"I think that men couldn't give up their sword fighting once mounted cavalry was replaced by mechanized cavalry and they turned it into a sport."

Picard snorted. "That is not the case."

She picked up her mask and sauntered out to the gym floor. "You're biased, Captain," she threw back as she left the dressing room.

Despite her teasing, the captain turned out to be a very good fencing instructor. Patient and knowledgeable, able to keep Beverly from losing her temper at setbacks. He'd explained to her the differences between the three weapons, the nuances of each. The doctor soaked in all the information, wanting to make sure she'd be able to hold her own. During each lesson, she steadfastly ignored the looks he gave her when he thoughts she wasn't paying attention to him, or when he thought she was looking the other way. At how the tone of his voice changed, became softer, whenever they were in close physical proximity. She ignored how much she looked forward to the lessons, to their time spent together.

And she most certainly ignored how he looked in his fencing gear. The traditional fencing whites of knickers and jacket hugging his well muscled form closely. As she ignored, he paid more and more attention to her. While her own gear accentuated her lovely features, he found himself fascinated and bound to her persistence in learning, in wanting to do her best, in her willingness to work with him on something completely outside any of her realms of expertise.

Weeks later, they finally started bouting against each other, Beverly finally feeling ready to try her hand at something other than drills. In one movement, Picard lunged at the doctor and his tip got stuck under her armpit, just long enough for Beverly to counterattack and score a touch. His attempts to regain control of his foil had caused her to break into laughter once the touch was recorded by the score box.

"It's not funny," he said, taking off his mask.

"Oh, it was," she said. "I swear I could hear you whispering under your breath 'Give me back my weapon!'"

"I did not."

"You did." She took off her own mask, drawing herself up to her full height and facing him full-on.

"I did not. You imagined it. I was nothing but graceful and that touch was a figment of your imagination." He took a step towards her.

"In that case," she said, "You had better report to sickbay to have your eyesight checked. It seems you've developed some temporarily blindness."

"I'm anything but blind," he said, taking another step.

"I beg to differ." Beverly closed the distance between them, challenging. She poked him in the chest with a gloved finger. "A sighted man would've seen that entire exchange. Since you insist it didn't happen, you've got a medical issue involving your eyes."

"I certainly do," he said.

She realized how close he'd gotten. His tone had changed again, becoming that caress she dreamed about, the one she had ignored during the past weeks. Beverly wondered when exactly the captain had stopped talking about the touch and started talking about his feelings about her. As long as she could, she resisted meeting his eyes, a few seconds becoming years as she felt his look, unable to ignore it. She felt his ungloved hand touch her cheek.

"Perhaps I address it with my doctor," he said. Soft, as soft as the hand on her cheek, moving to under her chin, urging her to lift her head.

She gave in and met his eyes. Immediately, she regretted and rejoiced in her decision. After all the time she'd spent keeping him at a certain distance, not wanting to have him look at her as he was right then, not wanting to hear the tone of voice he'd caressed her with again, not wanting to risk blowing apart everything, she missed it. The way his eyes searched hers, wanting to find emotions mirroring his own. How those eyes were so similar to her children's. To be able to see him as she could so rarely see him, lest she betray anything, as the father of her children.

And she closed the final distance between them and surrendered herself to the caress of his lips. He responded eagerly, as if he wanted this as much as she and had been waiting for her to come to her senses. He pulled her against him, deepening the kiss. Then it struck her--she couldn't let this happen. Couldn't do this again, not to him, not to her, to them. She pushed away from him. "Jean-Luc, we can't."

That crease in his brow, the annoyance in his eyes. So like her children. Their children. Then the annoyance was replaced with something else, a deepened sadness, one that could only result from being thoroughly beaten into the soul from repeated blows. She barely heard his question. "Why?" It came out rough.

The truth threatened to break free, a raging bull with her conscience as the rider, struggling to hold on for the full time so it could be corralled again. "I'm sorry," she managed to get out. Then she made her way out of the gymnasium as fast as she was physically able. The captain remained in his spot for some time, staring down at the mask and foil she left behind. Slowly, carefully, he picked them up and brought them back to his quarters, knowing she would have to get them some time.

Except she never asked him to fence again.

2370

Nana's journal lay unopened in Beverly's hands. What waited inside, the doctor didn't feel up to reading that night. The house had gotten quiet around her, the opposite of her noisy thoughts. She got up, went down the stairs. In the living room, the fire had burned down to a few glowing embers. Andrew and Gracie had fallen asleep on the couch, the book splayed open on Andrew's chest, little Gracie snuggled under her big brother's arm. Both were silent in their sleep, so quiet that Beverly crept up next to them, making sure she could hear them breathing.

Jean-Luc slept like that.

She pushed the memory of him out of her mind. "Hey," she said. "Wake up." She put a hand on Andrew's chest, then moved it to Gracie's, softly shaking. "Come on."

First Gracie's eyes opened, then Andrew's, once the little girl had elbowed him solidly in the ribs. Two sets of identical gray eyes, clouded with the haze of sleep. "That wasn't very nice," Andrew muttered to Gracie, then pushed her off the couch.

Beverly caught her and glared at him. "And that wasn't very nice of you," she told him.

"Oh, you're here," Andrew said.

The doctor stifled a laugh. "Who do you think woke you up?"

He frowned. "You know, I wasn't sure." He sat up, rubbing his face.

Gracie had already fallen back asleep, still in Beverly's arms. "I'll get her to bed," she said to Andrew. "And you get yourself to bed. I'll see you in the morning, okay?"

"Mmm," he nodded. When they stood, he surprised her with a tight hug. "Thanks for being here," he said. "Sleep well." And before she could reply, he was up the stairs. Enigmatic, like his father. Capable of such gentleness where no one would expect it. She maintained her tenuous grip on her emotions and carried Gracie up to her bed, putting her in her pajamas and tucking her in. For a moment, she stayed next to the little girl's bed, brushed a lock of auburn hair of her face, kissed her forehead, bade her good night.

With the light off, she could see outside, the light of the lone moon of Caldos reflecting off the fresh snow. The small house had settled into its night, quiet aside from the creaks of the old foundation. For the first time in years, and the first time in Gracie's lifetime, Beverly would be able to sleep in the same home as her children. She would be able to see them when they woke up. So much, she wanted to keep it this way, caring for them as she should. Loving them as she should. But when she had looked at those sets of eyes in Andrew and Gracie, she'd seen their father, and realized if she kept her dream here, then she would have to give up Jean-Luc up entirely.

Outside, the night remained clear.