AN: Here we are, another chapter here.

It should be mentioned, as you can probably tell, that I ship a lot of things across a lot of shows and, since this is a "family" fic, they do show up here from time to time. This is no exception that as Raffi and Seven's little family grows.

I do hope you enjoy! Please don't forget to let me know what you think!

111

With the completion of the nursery, a palpable calm had settled over Raffi and Seven's quarters. There was an air of happy anticipation that was, at the moment, entirely free from anxiety or worry. Raffi was, of course, under no impression that it would remain that way for too long, but it was nice in the moment. Seven wasn't worried about anything, it seemed—not for at least this one moment in time. They had everything they needed ready for their daughter's arrival, and they could figure the rest out, together, as they came to it.

For a moment, at least, they could simply breathe and focus on life around them.

"Come," Raffi commanded when she heard the door chime.

She was just straightening up their living room, making a nice sitting area for a quiet conversation, and she stood up when she he heard the chime that announced the fact that her guest of honor had arrived.

"JL!" She said, smiling at Picard. She came toward him and held out her arms for a hug. He accepted, and he followed her to the comfortable seating that she'd prepared for them. "Have a seat. I have something really special for you tonight…"

"Some exotic wine to impress me with?" Picard teased.

"Better," Raffi said. She slipped into the little kitchen area of their family quarters and emerged with their glasses and the bottle, tucked under her arm, that was one of two bottles she had gotten from Chakotay. He hadn't asked why she needed them, he'd simply said that he did, in fact, have what she wanted, and she was welcomed to it.

"Saurian ale?" Picard asked, taking the bottle from her to examine it before he passed it back to her to allow her to serve them.

She smiled and nodded.

"Not just any Saurian Ale. Look at the bottle. This is the good stuff, JL," she said.

"The strong stuff," he teased. "Are you trying to get me drunk, Raffi?"

"Can you get drunk, JL, in your new body?" Raffi asked, serving them drinks and tasting her own to get him started. "Genuine question, really. I'm curious."

"I can," he said, drinking his own drink. Raffi didn't point out that she already knew that. She also didn't point out that he still drank with the enjoyment and particular speed that he'd developed since just after receiving his synthetic body. "Though—it has taken a little tweaking from the Doctor and, surprisingly, B'Elanna Torres. Together, it would seem that they have helped to perfect what some might argue was an already perfected state of being. I have recently become possessed of the same range of human physical sensitivities as my mental and emotional ones."

Raffi refilled Picard's drink without drawing attention to the fact that he'd finished half of his before she'd taken more than a sip that was, honestly, mostly an act of performance.

Almost immediately, she could tell that some relaxation registered as Picard settled into his seat. Saurian Ale, and especially certain types of it, could be some of the strongest alcohol in nearly any quadrant.

"Someone told me that you might have come into possession of your entire range of sensitivities," Raffi said. "Thanks to some research and work being done with the functions of a variety of synthetic and enhanced life forms."

"I can't imagine where you might have heard that," Picard said. He smiled. "Certainly not from a certain engineer who is quite enamored of the Musiker family."

"An engineer of whom the Musiker family is quite enamored," Raffi said, returning Picard's smile. She sipped her ale, barely tasting it. With her lips closed, she was almost a master at appearing to drink a beverage. Unless the person with whom she was drinking monitored the change of the liquid's level in her glass, she could fool them for some time. She knew, too, how to fake a refill—carefully hiding the already full quality of her glass and slipping her thumb into the top of the bottle—when they needed a little extra encouragement to keep imbibing, always believing that she was at least nearly matching them.

"I've known B'Elanna since she was a headstrong cadet," Picard mused, his drink enhancing his good humor immensely. "She hasn't changed in many ways, but she's changed in all the best."

"Seven and I feel lucky to have her as…as family, really," Raffi admitted. Picard looked pleased with that confession of feelings. "Family is…it's so important, JL. Nobody should be alone, if they don't have to," Raffi pressed, pretending to only be ruminating on her own growing family.

"Oh—I agree," Picard said. "There are too many connections to be made in the world for one to assume that they must, by nature, be destined to be alone."

Raffi hid her amusement by miming a refreshing of her own drink. The splash more of ale that she added to Picard's glass was far more genuine than what she'd pretended to add to her own.

"That's what I've told Seven," Raffi said. "I think I didn't believe it for a time, but I believe it now."

"Where is your beautiful wife?" Picard asked.

"Oh—you know Seven," Raffi said. "She's—around."

"And Elnor?"

"He's having dinner and a study date with Naomi Wildman," Raffi said. "Although, we don't call them dates. Instead, Naomi simply calls them study sessions."

"Naomi, hmmm?" Picard mused. "Elnor is a wonderful student. He has a promising career in Starfleet. I do hope that you're helping him to see, though, that a career is not all he can have, or that he should have."

"I think we're doing our best," Raffi assured him.

"I'm certain you are," Picard said.

"What about you, JL?" Raffi asked.

"Haven't we had this conversation before?" He asked.

Raffi laughed to herself.

"A synthetic body—fully functional, from what I've heard of synthetics—and a whole new range of abilities, emotions, and sensations," Raffi said. "Seems like a hell of a thing to waste, JL."

"Who says I'm wasting it?" He asked.

"You're sitting here with me on a Saturday night, when you don't have any sort of duty," Raffi said with a shrug.

"The same argument could be made for your choice in company, Raffi," Picard said with a laugh.

"Yes—but my wife is around. Close by, I'm sure of it. We don't have to be attached at the hip to be secure in each other's presence. And I know that—tipsy on Saurian Ale or not, I'll fall asleep in her arms tonight. Don't you get lonely, JL?"

"Like a certain young half-Klingon cadet was headstrong from the start," Picard teased, "you, Raffi, have always been a touch too interested in meddling in the affairs of others."

Raffi laughed quietly, not at all offended by the teasing of her mentor.

"There are reasons that I went into intelligence, JL. I like to know things. Really know things. Come on—you can tell me. We're old friends."

"Some of us older than others," Picard responded. "Why do you care?"

"I can't want you to be happy?" Raffi asked. "Besides—maybe Seven and I would like Baby Musiker to have grandparents, you know? We're both kind of short on the whole family thing, unless we pick it up somewhere and put the pieces together to make our own."

Picard smiled.

"I think you'll find that you have no shortage of family if you want it, Raffi. If Baby Musiker is in need of a…a pépé, then I am certain that can be arranged."

Raffi smiled.

"And a…what's the feminine of that, JL?" Raffi asked. Picard laughed.

"A mémé, I suppose, is to what you're referring," Picard said. "Though children have many names, in French, for their grandparents. Mémé will do, though, if Baby Musiker is going to be finding a grandmother to whom she refers in French."

"I suppose that might depend on if her pépé is finding her a…a mémé. If you don't want to talk about it, JL, then…we can talk about something else. I was just wondering whatever happened with the whole…one great love in a person's life situation. Wasn't that what you said? Something like that…feel free to remind me…"

Picard laughed. It was more of a hum in his throat.

"Once you have known a great love, Raffi, it becomes impossible to imagine accepting a lesser one in its stead."

Raffi could gauge that Picard was feeling the effects of the alcohol that he'd been drinking rather steadily since they'd started talking. She could see a slight glazing to his eyes. He hadn't yet become fully accustomed to the changes that B'Elanna was helping to make to his synthetic body so that he could have a more fully-human experience for the remainder of his life.

"Does Dr. Crusher know?" Raffi asked. Picard's eyes went wide for a second. If Raffi had looked away at all, she would have missed it. She was looking for the reaction, though, and she got exactly what she expected.

"I suspect she does," Picard said, clearly deciding not to play coy anymore. "It hasn't been much of a secret, between us, for…decades."

Raffi changed her position and snuggled a little more comfortably into her seat.

"I don't understand, JL, what's the hold out? What's the problem?" She asked.

"I am," he said with a laugh. "I always have been. Me. Life. I loved Beverly the first time I saw her. Of course, she was engaged to be married, then. She was widowed, later, when her husband—and my best friend—perished in a mission. In many ways, I blamed myself for Jack's death, and for the solitary life to which I condemned Beverly."

"She could have married again," Raffi said. "You could have married her."

"I wanted to," Picard said. "I thought about it. I came so close…though never close enough, I suppose."

"What stopped you?"

"The same thing that stops us all, really," Picard said. "Fear."

"That she would say no?"

"That she would say yes," he said with a laugh. "That—I would hold the object of my greatest desires. That I would have a happy home unlike any home I'd ever known—happier than I could even dream. That I would have children with my beloved wife. That I would know happiness beyond anything I could even imagine."

"Doesn't sound so bad to me, JL," Raffi said, not quite able to stop herself from smiling. She could see a twinkle in his eye. Even as he remembered his dreams of what could have been, he clearly felt the warm happiness that even those imaginary moments had brought to him.

"It would have been magical," Picard said. "Wonderful. But—like many people—I feared the loss of that which I would never want to let go if once I held it." He shook his head. "For years, I told myself—and I even told Beverly—that the life of a Starfleet captain was a solitary thing by nature. I pretended that I couldn't be with her because the job would take me away from her. Starfleet would take me away from her, and I couldn't do that to her. In hindsight, I know that my fear was that her position in Starfleet would take her away from me. Some mission would be too dangerous, and Beverly—determined to do her duty—would be lost to me. I believe, at times, that I convinced myself that…I would be the reason she'd be lost. If I loved her, as I did, from a distance, she would somehow be spared…"

"She's been spared, JL," Raffi offered. "I mean—it's your business, but…why not now? It's the ship of dreams, after all. Why not chase a few of your own?" She laughed quietly. "You've got a new body, JL, you might even catch her."

Picard laughed. He drained his drink and Raffi refilled it. She'd make sure he got back to his room, and if he couldn't, for whatever reason, she'd make sure he was comfortable in their quarters.

"At this point, Raffi, I'm on borrowed time," Picard said. "You know that."

Raffi swallowed against the lump in her throat.

"We're all on borrowed time," she said, pushing back the inner desire that bubbled up in her to cry over a loss she hadn't yet suffered. "Even…Beverly." Raffi saw the expression that crossed Picard's face. It was pained, and it was genuine. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean that. I just—put my foot in my mouth."

"You were quite honest," he said. "You've said nothing that isn't true."

"Borrowed time just means it's stupid to keep wasting time," Raffi said. "Why waste another day loving her from a distance when…you could do it up-close and personally? Openly. Sharing every minute that's left."

Picard smiled. He held Raffi's eyes a moment from his seat.

"I have nothing to offer her now," he said. "The life she wanted with me…the family, children, marriage…what can I offer her now?"

"The last I checked, you can get married at any age," Raffi said. "Chakotay would be thrilled—thrilled beyond measure—to officiate a wedding. We'll set it up in the banquet hall. I'll serve the refreshments, and I get the second dance with the groom."

Picard laughed at her.

"It seems a paltry thing to offer her," he said. "I'm not much to look at anymore."

"She never seems to think that," Raffi said. "I've seen how she looks at you."

"I would have so little time to offer, after so much wasted…"

"So—you'd rather keep wasting what you have?" Raffi asked. "I don't mean to be insensitive, JL, to your…obviously large collection of morbid thoughts…"

"Awareness of my own mortality is more like it, Raffi," he corrected.

"I don't mean to be insensitive to any of it," she said. "But—wouldn't you rather enjoy what life you have instead of dwelling on the past? Wouldn't you rather look at what future you do have than hold on so tightly to your regrets? Wouldn't you rather die, Jean-Luc, in the arms of someone you love than…alone?"

He held her eyes, and then he dropped his eyes away. When he spoke again, he was speaking to the floor as much as he was speaking to Raffi.

"You imagine that Beverly would agree to even entertain all of this—to entertain a relationship with me. You imagine, Raffi, that Beverly would want what I have to offer her now."

"Because, of course, she would, Jean-Luc."

Raffi jumped. Picard jumped, too, but his surprise was greater than Raffi's. She'd merely forgotten, for a moment, that they weren't quite as alone as simple perception would lead someone to believe they were. Picard's surprise was much more genuine.

The whole moment might have been tense, if Seven's laughter hadn't actually followed Beverly Crusher into the room as the two of them emerged from where they'd been sitting in the bedroom, listening with the door partially ajar.

"Raffi?" Picard said. Raffi felt a bit chagrined. She couldn't immediately tell if his expression and tone came from betrayal or simply surprise.

Seven had stopped laughing, but she hovered close to Crusher's shoulder.

Raffi shrugged.

"I told you that I had something really special for you tonight…better than any exotic wine. I hope—I didn't lie, JL."

Picard frowned.

"Of course—that isn't what I meant at all, it's just that…"

"Don't scold, Jean-Luc," Crusher interrupted. "It wasn't Raffi. It wasn't just Raffi. I talked to them both, and…Raffi seemed the best for the job."

"Of tricking me into disclosing a confidence?" Picard asked.

"Of getting you to open up without letting on to what was going on," Crusher said. "If you want to be angry, be angry with me." She smiled and walked over to where he was. She sat down next to him—close to him. She rested a hand on his leg. "Or, if you don't want to waste more time by being angry with me, we could…talk about other ways to spend the evening that might be more pleasant."

Raffi smiled when Picard softened a little. He touched Beverly's face with an obvious show of affection. She took the glass from his hand and finished the Saurian Ale that he hadn't. She drained the glass in one long swallow, and Raffi saw her stifle a cough in reaction to the strength of it. Picard laughed.

"Careful," he said, his tone softening to a degree which he seldom used with other people. "Don't get strangled."

"I think I'll survive," Crusher teased.

"I suppose it's foolish to ask how much you heard," Picard said.

"I didn't hear anything I didn't know," Crusher said. "I only heard what you wouldn't say. What you should have said thirty years ago, Jean-Luc."

"I meant what I said," he said. "I don't have much to offer you. The years are limited."

"For us all," she offered with a shrug.

"No family," Picard said.

"I still see Wesley, every now and again," Crusher said. "And—I have it on pretty good authority that I could be a mémé very, very soon."

"We do have an opening for one," Raffi offered.

"I have nothing else to offer," Picard said.

"What if I told you, Jean-Luc, that…I'll take you, and we'll work on the rest?" Crusher asked.

"I don't suppose I could ask for more," Picard said.

"But—just to sweeten the deal, as Raffi would say," Seven said, coming back from her short trip to the kitchen, "we'd be willing to offer a bottle of Saurian Ale for a…hopefully romantic…Saturday night."

Raffi unfolded herself and came to wrap an arm around Seven, hugging against her.

"In exchange, of course, for the promise of a future Mommies' Night while Baby Musiker spends a little time with her pépé and mémé," Raffi said.

Crusher smiled warmly at that—warmly enough that Raffi's heart seemed to pick up a beat or two, and she processed the feeling by snuggling a little tighter into Seven. Seven, for her part, didn't reject the closeness in any way.

"What do you say, Jean-Luc? That sounds like a hard offer to pass up," Crusher said.

"You may have to help an old man back to his quarters," Picard said, standing up from his spot. He didn't seem to need the help that he pretended to need. Crusher rose with him. "Or, if I may be presumptuous, back to your quarters…as the case may be."

Crusher laughed and accepted the bottle that Seven held out to her. She was red-cheeked, but Raffi didn't point that out, and neither did anyone else.

"Come on, Jean-Luc," she said, reaching a hand back for him.

"Do you need help?" Raffi asked.

"I'm pretty sure we'll manage," Picard responded. He stopped in front of Raffi and reached a hand up. He touched her face affectionately, cupping it. The smile he was wearing said that any injury he'd felt was forgiven now. "You are truly one of the greatest in Starfleet intelligence," he said. There was only a touch of teasing in his tone.

"I learned from the best," Raffi offered, covering his hand with her own and rubbing her cheek into his palm.

"And you are…a wonderful, loyal friend, Raffi. Don't you ever let anyone make you doubt your worth."

Raffi meant to respond. She meant to say a great number of things. The sudden ache in her chest, though, and the tightness in her throat made that a touch too difficult. She simply nodded. Picard winked at her.

"Thank you," he said.

"Thank you both," Crusher offered, sincerely, from where she waited on him near the door, holding the bottle of Saurian Ale that Seven had passed to her.

As Picard walked away, Seven wrapped her arms around Raffi in a hug, and Raffi sank into them, breathing in the comfort of her love's arms. She could practically feel the happiness and peace radiating out of Seven.

"Have a good night," Seven offered.

"I think we will," Crusher responded. "You ladies have a good night, too."

"We always do," Seven said. Raffi shivered as the door closed behind their guests, and Seven pressed a soft kiss to Raffi's neck.