Author's Note: No, this isn't the last chapter. :grumble:
Snow Falling Softly XXVII
Beverly Crusher felt the elated mood from returning to the Enterprise with her son alive dissipate as the doors to Sickbay opened. Reality jumped out and blindsided her and Andrew with the mess on Dorvan V, with Wesley's time as a hostage, with Andrew's own brush with death. When Beverly stepped through the doors, she located Wesley immediately. Jean-Luc had been right. Physically, Wesley looked fine. But once she saw his eyes, she knew otherwise. The dust of regret had settled onto them, fading them with the haunting of the events he had experienced. He sat on the biobed, his shoulders slumped in the tunic of the Sickbay-issue clothing, eyes barely lifted to meet hers and Andrew's.
"I was only trying to help," Wesley said in a youthful voice trampled weak by harsh experience.
Andrew started heading in his brother's direction and Beverly grabbed his arm before he made it two steps. His legs were too shaky to allow for him to walk across the room. Her second son gave her his annoyed look, but let her guide him to the closest free biobed. Wesley saw and came to them, Beverly gathering him up in a hug, he was alive, they would be okay. "I was only trying to help," Wesley said again, then let go of her, sitting in the chair next to the bed.
The doctor started to ask what he was trying to help with exactly when Allie ran through Sickbay's doors. "Gracie gave me the slip. That little weasel. I'm going to strangle her. We're in Ten Forward and someone mentions that the captain was back. I look around Ten Forward, trying to find Guinan and see if she knew anything, I look back and that weasel was gone." She looked at her brothers. "Nice to see you guys alive," she said to them, hiding her anger with her brothers in her humor. But her mother and brothers were all familiar with the tactic and knew exactly how she felt.
"You've no idea where your sister is?" Beverly asked Allie, she would have to address the rest of it later.
Allie shook her head. "I mean, I did, but she kept moving. And moving fast. Last I heard, she was on the turbolift heading towards the bridge. That's when I figured I'd come in and tell you, because I don't feel like getting yelled at for being on the bridge."
Beverly cursed in her head, then summoned Dr. Selar. "I need to go to the bridge," she told the Vulcan. "Please take over for me."
Selar nodded. "Certainly."
Beverly caught Wesley's faded eyes. "We'll talk later," she said. He nodded. Then the doctor nearly flew out the door, changing tracks from her sons and their problems to her youngest daughter. In the turbolift, she could only think of one thing that would make Gracie escape her sister and risk going to the bridge. The little darling wanted to break her wonderful news to her father. With Admiral Necheyev in the room with him. And the little girl couldn't whisper to save her life, much less anyone else's, such as her father's. Or her mother's, for that matter. The 'lift doors opened to reveal the bridge. Beverly stepped onto it to see Will Riker rising from the command chair. "Will Riker," she said.
"Beverly Crusher," he said, unable to keep the smile off his face.
"You wouldn't happen to know where my youngest daughter is, would you?" she asked, knowing perfectly well that he did, heading straight towards her bearded friend.
"You know, strangest thing. She talked to me about this news that she desperately had to tell her papa. Of course, she's got that killer smile and she's so charming that I couldn't resist letting her in to see him. Then I completely forgot that the admiral was in with the captain. Horrible mistake on my part, I'm sure I'll get a reprimand on my record for it." Light danced in his eyes.
He knew. "She told you."
"Oh, no. She whispered it to me. Two things, actually, since I am apparently out of the loop." Now he was all out grinning.
She was going to kill him, slowly and painfully. After she figured out what to do about her child. And she was going to have another one. "Will," she said.
"Really," he said. "I want to know how it's possible."
"Will." What was it with people doing this to her?
"It's either dumb luck or some medical miracle sort of thing--."
"Will."
"What?" Cheshire cat.
Beverly wanted to knock those pretty white teeth right out. "I already had this conversation with my daughter. Who actually came up with some better remarks. You, I will take care of later. Right now, I have someone else to deal with." She spun away from the first officer and went straight into Jean-Luc's ready room.
To be greeted by a little Gracie Picard entertaining a certain Admiral Alynna Necheyev. Beverly knew immediately that Gracie had broken the news, as the tips of Jean-Luc's ears were still red. She could imagine exactly how red he must have gotten.
He stood up. "Beverly," he said.
"Mom!" Gracie said, standing up and running to give her a hug. "Papa told me that everyone is okay," she said, then she pointedly looked at Beverly's abdomen. "Everyone?" she asked.
The doctor held back a grimace. "Everyone," she said. "Now I want you to do me a favor." She knelt down to Gracie's level. "Can you go out to the bridge and tell Commander Riker that he's to give you a tour of the bridge? And that he isn't allowed to send you back in here unless he wishes to die a slow and painful death?"
Gracie's gray eyes grew large. "You'd really kill him?" she asked.
Beverly smiled. "Of course not. But he doesn't know that. So don't tell him that part."
"Right," said Gracie, then bolted out of the room, leaving the three adults behind.
When the doors shut, Admiral Necheyev said, "So it is true."
The doctor sighed and seated herself on the couch. "Yes." She looked over at Jean-Luc, his face slack with shock, the blush rising from his neck and quickly working its way up. The poor man. He had no idea. She decided to explain before either the admiral or the captain found the words to ask how. "You see," she said. "It has to do with the captain's artificial heart. Now, this medical discovery wasn't even made by researchers until recently, but there's a problem with the traditional birth control subdermal implant and the hormones and neurochemicals that keep his body from rejecting his artificial heart."
Picard frowned. "Which is?"
Beverly rubbed her hands over her face, then looked at him, the admiral, then the captain again. "The problem is that those chemicals render the implant ineffective. In addition, it exponentially increases the chance for pregnancy if the woman in question has no implant, a malfunctioning implant, or has ovulated."
"Let me get this straight, Doctor," Necheyev said. "What you are essentially saying is that Captain Picard has some sort of super-sperm?" Somehow, the admiral asked her question with a straight face.
Beverly wanted to become part of the couch. A sidelong glance at Jean-Luc told her that he felt much the same.
Necheyev gave a big smile. "At least now that you know what's been happening, you can plan these sorts of things out. Now, your daughter has also informed me that you are planning on getting married," she said, looking from one to the other.
"Are you paying this informant?" Beverly asked, her usual tight control of her acerbic replies vanishing after the trying events with Andrew earlier, after seeing Wesley's face after his own experience, after having Gracie spring the news on her father with an admiral present.
"No," replied Necheyev. "I haven't found the need. But her last bit of information gives me cause to ask you a favor."
"What would that be?" Beverly asked.
"If you are able, I would love to perform the ceremony. Something I would rather enjoy is finally seeing this unrequited-requited-unrequited love between the captain and the doctor of the Enterprise ultimately requited." She frowned. "If you ignore the three and a quarter children."
Not even a quarter, Beverly thought. She kept the comment to herself.
Jean-Luc seemed to get his ability to speak back. "If we are able, we would love to accommodate you, Admiral," he said, his captain's mask pulled back on.
"Excellent," said Necheyev. "Now, about the negotiations, Captain. You already have a good relationship with Anthrawa and Gul Evek after the events of today. I want you to continue this relationship and conduct the negotiations tomorrow. Also, I want you to speak with Anthrawa to find out the proper etiquette concerning his son's death, if there should be any sort of delegation sent by Starfleet."
"Of course," replied the captain.
Necheyev nodded to him. "Keep me informed, Captain," she said. She started towards the exit. "And congratulations," she said.
"Fantastic," Picard said as the doors closed behind the admiral. The doctor thought she detected a hint of sarcasm, but his eyes betrayed nothing. "I'm going to speak with Anthrawa now," he said, looking at her from behind his desk.
Beverly walked over to him, perched herself on his desk next to him, taking his hands. "I wish I could have told you myself," she said. Then she sighed. "I wish we could have planned this one as well."
The captain extricated one of his hands from hers, placed it on her flat stomach, fingers splayed out. "I think what matters most in this situation is that we'll both be able to see everything. That I'll see you for the next nine months, every change reminding me that you love me enough to carry our child. That I'll see this one being born. That you won't have give give this one up, that you'll hear him or her say their first words, take their first steps, that we'll be able to comfort this one after nightmares, everything." He looked up at her. "That's what matters," he said.
She leaned over, sought out his lips, kissed him. "I love you," she said. He always knew exactly the right thing to say. Slowly, she let go of his hands, slid off his desk. "I'll let you speak with Anthrawa. Come by my quarters after you've finished?" she asked.
"Always," he said.
And she exited, collecting Gracie on the way from an enchanted Will Riker. Beverly let another curse go inside her head. She couldn't very well inflict her daughter on anyone if they kept finding her so charming. Allie was right, Gracie was a little weasel. And adorable little weasel whom she loved, but still a weasel.
Andrew Picard watched his mother leave Sickbay, going after his younger sister. "I'm glad I'm not her," he mumbled, then looked over at his brother. "What the hell happened down there?" he asked. Wesley's eyes had frightened him. Earlier that day, they had been bright, absolutely determined in doing the right thing, absolutely believing in what he would do. When he and their mother walked into Sickbay, Wesley's eyes revealed none of that, instead they were infiltrated with the ghosts that dulled them. Concentrating on Wesley would also allow him to forget, for a moment, the look on his mother's face when Tirleth started that downward movement with the bat'leth, intent on cutting off Andrew's head.
"I tried to help," said Wesley, studying his feet. "After you were taken, I went down to tell Lakanta. Everything was a mess. Lakanta died."
Andrew jerked upwards, turning towards Wes. "Lakanta died? How did he die?"
Dr. Selar pushed Andrew back to the biobed. "I advise you not to sit up again," the Vulcan said. "Or make any sudden movements." She slid his arm into the regenerator, Andrew felt the brush of the restraining field placed over his arm, causing the hairs on his arm to rise.
In a broken sentences punctuated with the long pauses of overwhelming emotion, Wesley told Andrew about Lakanta's desperate last charge, about Anthrawa's intervention as the last minute, about carrying his friend's body back to his home. "His mother was there, waiting for us," said Wesley. "As soon as we stepped through the door, she was crying. She didn't have to say a word to us, we all knew how she felt. When we left, she was kneeling next to the bed we'd placed Lakanta on, holding his face. All I could think about was Mom, how Mom would have reacted if you or I had been killed today. That look on Mom's face, her holding one of our faces like that, because we did something stupid."
"He brought peace," Andrew whispered.
"That's what I was trying to do," Wesley said.
"Maybe it wasn't your job, maybe you were supposed to go down there, a trigger for Lakanta to to his job, and all of that was supposed to happen." Andrew paused. "Maybe his death had a purpose." He wasn't sure, but he wanted it to be true. But Wesley's story about Lakanta's mother only made Andrew recall his mother's face as she saw Andrew about to die in front of her, die for some meaningless reason, leaving nothing behind except memories and sadness. "Heroes die young," Andrew said.
"He was no hero, no more a hero than I was," said Wes.
"I don't think heroes know they're going to be heroes, unless they're some sort of mythological character. I don't think courage is all intelligence, it has to have an amount of stupidity to it, of blindness. Otherwise, a hero would see the consequences of his actions before he took them, the immediate consequences, and he might stop, leaving whatever destiny he might have had unfulfilled," said Andrew. He knew what he'd done earlier had nothing to do with courage and everything to do with stupidity. Taunting a Klingon holding a bat'leth to his neck, irritating him enough to continue beating him, finally angering him enough to try and kill him. And if his mother hadn't been there, he would be dead. But maybe it she was meant to be there just as Lakanta's mother wasn't. If SoS'Qeh were true, and he was sure it was, Wakasa would have somehow stopped Lakanta from dying. And perhaps there would be no peace.
"I wish he hadn't died," Wesley whispered.
"Me too," came Andrew's reply.
"Even now the Vulcans wish that Surak had not died so young," said Selar, concentrating on the readouts from the regenerator. "Yet his death served a purpose as an illustration of his living by his ideals through the midst of battle. Surak said that 'Time is a path from the past to the future and back again. The present is the crossroads of both.' It is logical to assume that one such crossroads occurred on Dorvan V today." The doctor looked up from the readouts, at Andrew, at Wesley. "Your friend died on the path to the future. It is up to those now living on that path to continue his journey. Nobility lies in action, not in name. Make your peace with your friend's family." Selar nodded at Andrew. "You are healed. However, you are not to leave Sickbay until your mother has given you clearance." Then she released the restraining field and went to fill out her report.
Andrew flexed his hand experimentally. It felt fine, the last of his outward injuries were healed, erasing the last of his bodily evidence of his stupidity. Selar was right, they would have to figure out what to do, and the first thing would be going to Lakanta's funeral.
"Must be nice to be a Vulcan," Wesley said.
Allie looked back from watching Selar walk off. "I wouldn't say that," she said. "They have to keep tight control of their emotions so they don't show them outwardly. It isn't like they don't have emotions. Personally, I wouldn't want to be a Vulcan." Then she fixed a glare on her brothers. "And what the hell did you two think you were doing? You should've told me about this."
"You were never interested in the Prime Directive before," Andrew said, trying not to let himself be intimidated by the glare from his sister.
"I might not be, but I am interested in knowing what my brothers are up to when it concerns their safety either from outside sources or from pissing off the captain," she replied. "How else am I supposed to protect you?"
Wesley snorted derisively. "I don't need your protection."
Andrew said nothing, since he was sitting on a biobed after just having had his broken arm healed and been saved only a scant couple hours earlier by his mother's protective instincts.
Allie looked at Wesley, looked at the PADD Selar held, looked back at Wesley. "Hardly," she said. Wesley studied the floor intensely, point taken.
Their mother walked through the door, Gracie in tow. Allie glared at the both again. "We're not done," she said. "But our little sister is in more trouble with me than you two are." Allie stood up, went straight over Gracie, stepping directly in front of her.
At Allie's downward glare, Gracie glared right back, her arms crossing. "I'm not afraid of you," she told her older sister.
"Oh, you will be," Allie answered, taking Gracie's hand. "You and I are going to have a little chat. Come with me." She then led Gracie out of Sickbay, the little girl throwing a backwards glance at her mother and brothers, showing them she was indeed afraid of her older sister's impending tongue-lashing. Beverly watched the exchanged, entirely nonplussed. Gracie had obviously caused some sort of trouble on the bridge, but despite their pleas for Beverly to tell them about it, she remained tight-lipped. Once the doctor had read over the two PADDs with the medical information on both her sons, they headed back to their quarters for some much needed rest.
Jean-Luc Picard strode through the corridor towards his family's quarters. His conversation with Lakanta had gone well as could be expected, the colony's leader had planned on sending a communique to Picard if the captain hadn't done so before, so Picard's own communique wasn't an interruption at all. The man had requested that Picard attend the ceremony as well as Wesley and Andrew. Wakasa had then reminded Anthrawa that Picard had two daughters also, and that they should attend, as well as the children's mother. For a moment, it had looked as if Anthrawa were going to object to Beverly's presence, then Wakasa had laid a gentle hand on her husband's forearm. "She is his wife in all but name. She is his family and his family must mourn with our own." Anthrawa had nodded solemnly, asking forgiveness for his lapse into prejudice. They were to go to Anthrawa and Wakasa's home before dawn, as Andrew's and Wesley's roles began there.
Picard entered the cabin, finding Wesley asleep on the couch, Andrew asleep in an armchair, and Conal running up to greet him, then was beaten out by Gracie. The captain nearly shook his head in the domesticity of it all. A week ago, he would never have thought this possible. Now, he couldn't imagine living without it. His daughter looked up at Beverly, who was helping Allie set the table. "Now that Papa's home, can I wake them up?" Gracie asked.
Home. Picard exchanged a warm smile with Beverly, sharing the same thought. They were home.
"Go ahead," Beverly told Gracie.
The little girl sent the wolfhound after Wesley, the large dog jumping and landing his front paws on Wesley's chest, bringing the young man quickly awake. Wesley complained as the dog licked his face, finally shoving Conal off him and standing up out of the range of the dog's muzzle. Gracie went after Andrew, poking him in the chest. "Wake up," she said. "You have to eat dinner."
"Go away," Andrew said.
"Mom said you have to eat dinner, doctor's orders."
"She did not."
Beverly spoke up. "Andrew, you have to eat dinner."
With a martyred sigh, Andrew got up from his chair, trying to rub the sleepiness out of his face. Picard saw that his son had cleaned up and changed, no more blood on his face, nor dirt, nor the blood that had dried to his hair. From how Andrew and Wesley acted, the captain was certain Gracie hadn't told him her news. From the look Allie was giving him, he was certain that she knew. As they sat down, Allie sidled up to him. "Glad you took my advice," she whispered into his ear.
He felt the tips of his ears burning. Allie grinned at him and took her seat while he looked at her, annoyed. She was absolutely impossible and he loved her for it--most of the time. Meanwhile, Gracie decided that she couldn't possibly hold in her news any longer and as soon as each of the boys had started to eat, she blurted it out. "We're going to have a new little brother or sister," she said.
Andrew choked on his roll.
Wesley's drink went down the wrong pipe, sending him into a paroxysm of coughs.
"You have to be f--," Andrew stopped when Beverly and the captain gave him looks. "Kidding me," he said, editing himself. "How?" And he remembered who he was talking to. "Wait, no. You know what? I don't want to know. I'm not going to question it. Not one bit."
Wesley continued coughing.
"So when's the wedding?" Allie asked, delighted in her brothers' discomfort.
"We haven't decided yet," Beverly said.
Picard hadn't made any suggestions to Beverly yet, trying to decide on his own what he'd like to do, so he would have something to discuss with her. While he wanted his ancestral home, his brother and sister in law and nephew involved, he also wanted to be family in name as well as feeling by the time they got back to Caldos. And Caldos would be their destination again after the negotiations were finished, as the sudden departure hadn't allowed for Andrew, Allie, and Gracie to say appropriate farewells to their friends. After all that had happened on that colony days before, he felt very strongly about their return. The Enterprise wasn't scheduled to return to Earth for at least eight months, maybe as many as eleven, possibly a year. While he and Beverly could take leave, the suddenness of it would leave the ship with a sizable hole in the command structure. Perhaps they could arrange to take two month's leave, possibly more, surrounding the time when the baby would be born, and have this next Picard born in La Barre. He also wanted Wesley to be a part of the ceremony, it being appropriate to give his mother away, and he had no idea what the boy's plans were now, where he would be going.
"I think we should be a family when we get back to Caldos," Allie said.
Picard gave her a surprised look, wondering if she'd listened in to his thoughts. He hoped not. There were other thoughts of his that his daughter shouldn't be aware of when it came to her mother. "The Enterprise is stopping by Caldos on our way to our next mission, as none of you got in any proper farewells."
"I'd like to stay there for awhile, too," Wesley said, now recovered from his coughing fit. "Nana's house always felt most like a home to me, since it never went anywhere. I think that would be a good place for me to figure out what I want to do."
"So you haven't any ideas?" Beverly asked.
Wesley shook his head. "No. Not really. I mean, I know the things I'm interested it, but I don't know what I want to do for the rest of my life." The boy tapped his fork on the side of his plate. "And I want to be there for your wedding, so I can give you away."
"Wouldn't it be too soon?" Andrew asked. "Basically, what you and Allie are saying is that you'd like to have it within the next week."
"I say they've waited long enough," Allie replied, casting looks at Beverly and Picard.
"You also have family on Earth to consider," Beverly said. "You have an aunt, an uncle and a cousin you've never met living in France." She glanced across the table at the captain. When he looked into her blue eyes, he saw what she wanted--she wanted to be a family by the time they got to Caldos. She wanted to step again onto the snow there and know that everything had changed, that her dreams were now true. Except she also wanted to include his family, include his feelings on the matter about having Robert, Marie, and Rene present for the ceremony.
But he felt the same way as the rest of them, that the meaning of Caldos needed to be changed with finality. They could visit his family afterwards, he would bring up his idea of leave with Beverly later. "I think we could visit them at a later date," he said aloud. "I suspect Guinan would have no arguments over having a wedding in Ten Forward in the next few days. That is, if your mother and none of you have any arguments against the same."
Beverly smiled at him. "I don't," she said.
"Good," said Gracie, summing up their feelings on the matter.
The captain hated to ruin the good mood, but he also had to bring up the matter of the funeral tomorrow, before he forgot. "We all have an obligation tomorrow morning," he said. "Anthrawa has requested that our family attend Lakanta's burial. Andrew and Wesley are to have some sort of role in the ceremony."
Andrew and Wesley nodded, their eyes going serious, thinking over what they would be doing in the morning.
"When do we need to arrive at the colony?" Beverly asked.
"Before their dawn," Picard answered. "And before you ask, I don't know what Wesley and Andrew will be doing. Anthrawa and Wakasa didn't explain."
Gracie looked at her brothers, then her father. "Who are we saying good bye to?"
"Lakanta," Wesley answered quietly. "He died this afternoon."
"I'm sorry," the little girl said.
"Me too," said Wes.
Dinner finished quietly after that, the remorse from Andrew and Wesley dampening the good news of the wedding and the new child. Both boys went to bed soon after, the naps they'd had earlier not enough to keep them awake any longer than they had to be. Allie wasn't far behind, wanting to get enough sleep to be able to wake up for the next day. The captain tucked Gracie into bed, the little girl falling asleep in the midst of her questions about the wedding, about being a flower girl, about whether the new baby was going to be a boy or a girl, what they would name it.
Picard walked out of his youngest daughter's room smiling. "She's awful," he said. "Nearly as impossible as Allie," he said to Beverly, following her to the bedroom.
"Speaking of," said Beverly. "What did Allie say to you that made you blush before dinner? The one that made you give her that--" she paused, seeing the look she was talking about currently forming on his face-- "look you have on your face right now. That annoyed look."
"She told me she was glad we took her advice," he said, grumbling.
Beverly laughed. He shot her the look she'd mentioned. It only made her laugh more.
"I can only imagine what Gracie is going to be like when she gets to be Allie's age. I'm beginning to wonder if she does it on purpose, embarrassing me like that. I know for a fact that Allie does it on purpose," he said.
The doctor put her arms around his neck, drawing him close. "You'd better get used to it," she said. "I think Gracie is only going to get worse as she gets older. And she adores you, so you get to be her primary victim." Beverly smiled wickedly at him. "And I, for one, look forward to those years, of Gracie continuing to torture her father with her innocent insights and inability to whisper."
"I was right, she did inherit it from her mother," Jean-Luc said, moving his hands to her hips.
She reached up and brought his face to hers. "Oh, her mother adores you, all right. But in an entirely different way."
And she proceeded to show him.