Life with Beverly

Chapter 4:

She was bubbling with excitement. That was the only way that Jean-Luc could describe the condition of the Admiral Picard that waltzed into the library, pirouetting about before jumping up to sit perched on top of the empty space at the corner of his side of their partner desk. Her hair had loosened from its upsweep and was randomly falling about her shoulders as she leaned over and grabbed his collar as she pulled him into a kiss.

A minute later she slid onto his lap, and kissed him again.

"My, you're in a good mood, mon coeur," Jean-Luc managed to observe a few minutes later as he tried to steady his squirming, passionate wife on his lap. He sniffed. And smelled more than her usual perfume There was wine on her breath. "And you obviously had lunch with a few other admirals this afternoon. Or was it a diplomatic affair?"

"No affair. No admirals either - an admiral. Winnie invited me for lunch."

Hiding his trepidation at this announcement, for he'd been unaware of a luncheon with the Fleet Admiral on her schedule, he uttered, in a concerned yet casual tone, "And I take it that the luncheon was to your liking?"

"I am not the CMO of Starfleet Medical!" she gleefully announced before she started smothering him with kisses again as she straddled him.

Trying to pry information out of an amorous wife was a skill that Jean-Luc had yet to acquire. "Computer, privacy lock," he managed to gasp during her onslaught.

"Silly darling," she answered as she took a breath and then stood to work on the closure to his olive silk shirt. Leaning over him, he suddenly found his face pressed into her bosom.

"What?" He was somewhat befuddled at the moment.

"Don't you know that Mildred has the computer automatically set the privacy lock whenever it's just the two of us in a room - any room?" As this unnerving, embarrassing piece of news was comprehended, Beverly slid to her knees between his legs. Then she tackled his waistband.

He grabbed her wrists, stilling her. He could tell that something important had happened to his wife this afternoon. And that she was in no mood to tell him at this specific moment. So he did the only thing that he could do and keep his sanity. "Upstairs. Now."

"Oh, I love it when you revert back to Captain Picard, and think that you can still order me around," she purred as she danced her way to the iron spiral staircase leading up to their bedroom. She held his hand all the way.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"Hmmm…," she hummed into her husband's bare chest. Not that she would admit it out loud in case it might wreak havoc with his ego, but the aftermath of their lovemaking, when she was joyfully held in his embrace, was her most favorite time with Jean-Luc. She could rest against him, feel the security of his warmth, hear the steady beat of his heart, and know the sheer satisfaction of finally being held in his arms. So many years had been filled with emptiness and longing. And now it was bliss.

Then she considered her new job. She knew that she would have to choose her words carefully. She didn't want her husband to think that she was not grateful for his prior maneuverings on her behalf when he had been negotiating for her position as CMO when he'd first told the Fleet Admiral that he wished to leave his captaincy. But it was her work, her ideas, that had captured Winston Holt Wiley's attention. And finally, she was being given a job that really meant something. An opportunity to make a real difference. A job that she had earned with hard work and sacrifice. She could barely control her burgeoning excitement.

"Jean-Luc…", she whispered, expectantly.

He said nothing.

Raising her head she looked up at her husband's face. He was sleeping. She rolled off of him a bit, waiting to see if her movements would awaken him. They did not.

Lifting his arm over her head, she laid it to rest across her breast. That did not awaken him either though he did pull her a little closer. Sighing, she closed her eyes for a moment.

Three hours later he awakened her with a kiss.

"Mmmmm…," she sighed as she recognized the touch of the man who kissed her with such great tenderness.

"Time to get up, Beverly. We're due at Admiral Brand's house for dinner in less than two hours."

She bolted upright into a sitting position. "What? It's that late?"

"You fell asleep."

"No, you were asleep."

"Then you fell asleep. I woke up a few hours ago…"

"You let me sleep?"

"Beverly, I checked your schedule. Since Holt had already given you the afternoon off, I decided, for a change, to let you listen to what your body was telling you. I let you sleep."

Even as she stood and accepted a turquoise embroidered robe from her husband's hands, she was thinking. "You know, I think we need to be checked out. Maybe we are suffering from Starfleet time zone syndrome. It's been quite a while since both of us have been on a continuing planetary diurnal/nocturnal schedule. Maybe we haven't quite adjusted to the changes yet."

"Is that why a Dr. Norah Bolt sent me a message confirming our physicals in two days?"

"Oh." Beverly paused, "I meant to mention that. I can't be your personal physician anymore, Jean-Luc. Dr. Bolt comes highly recommended by some of my medical friends as well as Mildred. And I like her."

"You no longer wish to be my personal physician?"

She could sense the hurt behind his calm words. "It's not proper protocol here on Earth. You're now my husband…"

"And a physician should not treat immediate family members…", he added. He understood but he didn't like it. A thought occurred to him. "Did Guinan suggest this Dr. Bolt as well?"

"Kate Pulaski may have mentioned it to her."

Jean-Luc frowned. "If Captain Pulaski knows about your search, then that might explain why a hundred-and-forty-seven year-old Vulcan physician known for his disapproval of humans in general and Starfleet officers in particular, sent me a subspace message inquiring about my arrival plans for coming to Vulcan for a physical. And he also was wondering why I had selected him in the first place."

Beverly walked into the dressing. Jean-Luc followed her. "You really can't just blame Kate for that one. There are other suspects." Though privately, Beverly was sure that Kate Pulaski was the most likely suspect.

"True. Both Will and Guinan are capable of plotting such a thing."

Beverly stood in front of her row of evening gowns. She'd acquired quite a few during the past few months. "Evening gowns or dress uniform tonight?"

"It's not too formal of an affair. I think."

"Good. I just bought a new gown." She arched an eyebrow as she grinned at her husband. "You might find it interesting…"

"There may be cadets in attendance."

She made a face at him. "Spoilsport. I'll just have to save that dress for our six-month anniversary…" With that riposte, she walked into the bathroom.

By the sounds of the water, he decided that she was taking a water shower instead of a bath. Perhaps he should join her…

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"Food poisoning?" she mumbled. Beverly didn't want to open her eyes. In fact, she didn't want to move at all. Period. Yet something, or someone, was prodding her.

"Admiral, open your eyes."

Reluctantly she pried open one lid. And then the other. She recognized the dark eyes staring back at her. "Dr. Bolt?" she whispered.

"Your at Starfleet Medical. You and your husband."

Beverly closed both eyes for a moment. Thinking. "It must have been the jerk chicken…"

"For what?" Dr. Bolt patiently asked.

"The food poisoning."

"No one else, other than the other Admiral Picard, became ill." Dr. Bolt chuckled. "Though that won't stop the rumor mills from working over time at the thought that Admiral Brand poisoned not one, but two admirals."

"The chicken wasn't that spicy. Jean-Luc can stomach…"

"Klingon cuisine," Dr. Bolt interrupted. "He informed me of that fact a few minutes ago. In between his most vocal demands that we take care of you first."

"That's my Jean-Luc," she muttered to herself.

Dr. Nora Bolt smiled, checked the monitors above her patient's head, and then nodded at a nurse to continue the monitoring, as she walked away from her patient's bedside in the admiral's wing at Starfleet General. Once the wretchedly ill couple had been beamed over to emergency from Admiral Brand's once quiet dinner party, Dr. Bolt had been summoned after it was determined that the admiral's flu-like symptoms were not life threatening. The admirals had then been moved into the secured wing of the hospital that treated important Federation or Starfleet personages, diplomats and admirals.

Dr. Bolt had already figured out what was wrong with Dr. Beverly Howard Crusher Picard. But trying to figure out why her husband had the identical symptoms was the mystery here. Returning to her office she pulled up the medical and classified files that she now had access to because she was their personal physician, and started investigating the commonalities of the admiral's lives.

About half an hour later, she was commed. "Yes?"

"Dr. Bolt. Admiral Picard is insisting that he be returned to his residence. He says that the nausea has stopped. And that he is no longer light-headed."

"What about the other admiral?"

"She's demanding the same thing, after she speaks to you of course." The blond haired, Swedish medical resident at the other end of the comm link suddenly grinned. "As sick admirals go, she's not too terrible."

"And hear tell I always that that it was doctors who made the worst patients." Nora smiled, shaking her head. Her long honey-brown hair was tied up in a pony tail. It bounced as she moved. Dr. Bolt was a tall woman, from old California stock. Her mother had married a part-Betazoid man, so Nora had inherited a slight empathic/telepathic ability from him. This ability also made her a very good doctor.

"Nils, tell Admiral Beverly Picard that I'll be down to see her personally. And tell Admiral Jean-Luc Picard that the more that he protests, the more tests I will find to run."

Nils grinned as he signed off.

A few minutes later after she double checked the medical reports from a certain incident, Dr. Bolt walked into Beverly's private room and shut the door.

"Well, Dr. Bolt," a much less lethargic Admiral Picard asked as she touched the bed controls so that she was now sitting upright. "Food poisoning or a particularly nasty strain of Asamorian flu?"

Nora pulled up a chair. "Neither." Then she said nothing.

Beverly thought for a few moments before guessing, "An allergy? I can't recall ever becoming so nauseous so swiftly before."

"That's a possibility, though it is unlikely since the other Admiral Picard suffered from the same symptoms as well."

"Don't tell me it was poison…" Beverly's eyes darkened at this thought. She was well aware that there was a reason behind all of the security precautions that Jean-Luc had ordered once they'd arrived on Earth. Even though he'd been dismissive of them as normal operating procedures to her, Beverly knew better.

"No." Dr. Bolt patted Beverly's hand. "This was not an assassination attempt."

"That's good to know." Beverly sighed in relief and relaxed. And then she really looked at Dr. Bolt. "Dr. Bolt…" It was then that Beverly realized that the lady was quite amused. With her.

"The only other thing that I can think of is that I am pregnant." Beverly shook her head. "But that can't be right. Jean-Luc got sick too…"

"Sympathetic symptoms."

Beverly merely looked at Dr. Bolt in disbelief. "Are you telling me that I am pregnant?"

"About twenty-five days ago."

"Our last day on Risa?" Beverly whispered to herself.

Nora raised an eyebrow. It was the only outward indication that she'd overheard Beverly's mutterings. She hadn't quite pegged the CMO of Starfleet Medical and the former Captain Jean-Luc Picards as being the Risian type.

"But Jean-Luc's vomiting…"

"I ran across something in your med charts. About the incident on KesPrytt…"

Beverly nodded. "Yes, we were psychically joined. But that link dissolved when the emitters were removed from our brains."

"Well, I think that you still are linked on a very diminished, subconscious level. I don't have any evidence of that - yet. I'd like to run a few tests. But as you may know, I am part Betazoid. And I can sense the link between you and your husband."

Beverly weakly giggled. "And all of my surging hormones probably stimulated that link."

"You don't disagree with me?"

"You mean, do I acknowledge that I think that there is a tenuous link between myself and my husband? Well, I do. I've suspected it ever since we became lovers." Beverly sighed as she thought about her husband. "There have been times when I've felt it. And most recently, I've been feeling it quite a bit." She grinned. "Poor Jean-Luc."

"Uh…"

Beverly chuckled. "I just realized that Jean-Luc is never going to know his definition of normal again." Beverly didn't explain further. She moved more upright. "I take it that the fetus is healthy?"

"Oh yes, in spite of your, uh, maturity, everything seems normal. Though I will wish to closely monitor you for the next two months at least."

"Good. I really want this baby. And I have a suspicion that my husband will want it even more than I do, if such a thing is possible."

Beverly would have said more if she hadn't been interrupted by Wesley bursting into the room.

"Mom! Are you all right?"

Dr. Bolt stood up in a defensive mode, when Beverly simply said, "This is my son Wesley, Dr. Bolt." Dr. Bolt relaxed, nodded at the cadet, and then exited the room.

"Mom, are you all right?" her son worriedly repeated as he knelt by her bedside. "I got called away from the UP and was told that you were sick. And so was Jean-Luc." He took a quick breath. "And that you were poisoned at Admiral Brand's farewell dinner party."

"Not quite right, Wesley. Admiral Brand didn't poison us - though if you and your classmates had been there, I might have suspected otherwise. I know how rough you all have been on that lady," she teased.

The fact that his mother was teasing him caused Wesley to calm down quickly. "Then you're really okay?"

"I will be. Really."

"Oh." Wesley pulled himself together. "What happened?"

"It's something that I'm going to have to discuss with Jean-Luc." Beverly reached up and caressed her son's cheek. "Can you stay the night, tonight? I think that they're releasing us in a few hours. Then I can talk to you at the house."

He hesitated for just a moment, before answering, "Sure, Mom."

"You were doing something."

Wesley ruefully stated, "I was working with my team on our senior engineering project. I've been working on creating nanites that can survive in the plasma stream so that they can clean the plasma manifolds as an on-going project…"

"Come to dinner tomorrow night, Wes. I'm sure Jean-Luc and I will both be released by then." She chuckled. "We weren't really sick - just nauseous."

"I heard that Jean-Luc, uh, vomited over Admiral Brand's dinner table."

"Not quite right. Jean-Luc made it to the balcony before that happened. I was the one who found a rather unique use for an antique wine cooler and stand. I'm going to have to convey my apologies to Admiral Brand in the morning."

"I already did." A slightly shaky Jean-Luc Picard stood in the doorway. He was wearing a hospital gown, much to Beverly's amusement. He nodded at Wes.

Beverly extended her hand toward her husband. "Somehow, I don't think that Dr. Bolt gave you permission to get out of bed."

As he walked toward her, he announced, "I outrank… the nurse," he sheepishly admitted.

Beverly waited a moment. "Well, since they're not coming in here to drag your tail back to your bed, I am assuming that you are going to be all right."

"That Dr. Bolt smirked at me, Beverly!" he complained, "When I asked her how you were, she smirked!"

Trying not to laugh, Beverly motioned for Wesley to sit down on the other side of her hospital bed as Jean-Luc sat down next to her.

He continued to complain. "Dr. Bolt is not acceptable as our private physician. We must choose another doctor."

"I like her," Beverly sweetly said. "And you'll like her too, once she's done running all of her tests."

"More tests?"

"Why not now. She really does have to find out why you fainted…"

Her husband harrumphed.

Beverly turned to her son. "Wes, we both will be fine. So you go back to your project. And see us tomorrow night."

Still a little unsure of what he should do, Wes bent over and kissed his mother's cheek, then walked over to his step-father and shook the man's hand. "I wouldn't be going back if Mom hadn't ordered me," the cadet explained.

"Trust me, Wesley. I have experienced your Mother's orders before. I truly do understand."

"Be gone!" she ordered with a laugh, sweeping her hand in the door's direction.

After Wesley had closed the door behind him leaving them alone, Beverly pulled her husband back down to her side and then embraced him tightly. "How do you feel?" she whispered.

"Much better than two hours ago," he ruefully admitted. He pressed a kiss against his beloved's cheek. "What happened?"

"If what Dr. Bolt suspects is correct, it is a bit of a long explanation."

Jean-Luc raised an eyebrow. "Meaning?"

"We're pregnant."

It was a good thing that the superintendent of the academy was sitting down when his wife had uttered these words. Otherwise he probably would have fallen.

It took a few moments before he could breathe again.

Somewhere in the distance, Beverly could hear alarms going off. She wasn't that surprised when Dr. Bolt rushed into the room, waving a medical tricorder. "Is everything all right?"

"I told him," was Beverly's cool reply.

Dr. Bolt stopped directly in front of Jean-Luc. And scanned him twice. Then she announced, "I'll just leave now. But I'll be back in ten minutes. You both need to rest - alone."

"Dr. Bolt - Nora," Beverly calmly stated. "I have found that Jean-Luc rests much better when we are together. Please make those arrangements."

Deciding not to disagree with a command from the current head of Starfleet Medical, Dr. Bolt agreed, saying, "I'll have his bed moved in here."

"Good idea," was all the Beverly needed to say before the doctor left the room, leaving them alone again.

Jean-Luc took a deep breath, "Did you say that we are expecting a child?"

"Yes, in about eight months. Once I go in for my pre-natal physical I'll have a better idea of the due date."

"Mon Dieu," he whispered as he positioned himself close to Beverly so that he could hold her in his arms. "You are all right?"

"Yes, Jean-Luc. It's going to take me a little while to get used to the idea, but so far, it seems like a good one."

"Oh Beverly. A child, mon coeur." He just had to kiss her. Then he had a sudden thought. "Do we know if…?"

"Not yet. Do you wish to know if it is a boy or a girl?"

"It really doesn't matter to me. As long as you remain healthy and the baby is healthy." He rested his head against Beverly's shoulder. Then raised his head again. "What about your new job? Holt isn't going to like…"

"Holt will like whatever I will tell him to like," Beverly sternly replied. "I'll suggest that he will be the godfather. That will give him proprietorship over spoiling the baby." She snuggled closer to her husband. "Besides, I'll still be on Earth when the baby is due. A lot of what I have to do I can do from home, if necessary." She raised her head. "You don't have a problem with my working, do you, Jean-Luc?"

"But…"

"Jean-Luc, we will solve the problems as they arise. There isn't anything that we can't handle as long as we do it together."

Truer words, he whispered as he leaned in to kiss his bride.

Neither lover noticed Dr. Bolt entering the room until she cleared her throat. A moment later a hospital bed floated into the room. Dr. Bolt ordered the attendants to place it next to Beverly's bed, causing the equipment to be rearranged a bit in order to accommodate the changes in the room.

"Smart woman," Beverly muttered to herself. In a louder voice she asked, "Are you keeping us here over night?"

"Just for a few more hours. Your blood chemistry is showing some interesting almost identical hormonal changes and levels."

Now, Jean-Luc was curious. "How is that possible?"

Beverly answered, "It seems that the KesPrytt changed us more than we recognized at the time."

Instead of complaining or protesting, Jean-Luc simply said, "Well, that makes sense."

"It does?" asked Dr. Bolt, as she checked the monitors and mentally started making additional notes for her reports.

"Yes. I've always felt a connection with Beverly on some level. But after KesPrytt, this connection seemed more prominent - more powerful." Jean-Luc glanced at his wife. "In fact, because of this connection, I found myself questioning some of Beverly's actions, since my instincts told me otherwise…"

The wife attempted to swat her husband's shoulder, but her arm stopped in mid air. "Uh oh…"

As if by magic, Dr. Bolt produced a hypospray and administered another anti-nausea shot. She gave Jean-Luc one too, for good measure. "You're not leaving the hospital until I figure out a way to properly control the nausea in both of you."

"Properly set neuro-cortex stimulators should do the trick," Beverly observed.

"That's one possibility, Admiral Picard," Dr. Bolt agreed.

"You'd better start calling me Beverly. Otherwise both of us Picards might get confused. Nora."

"Of course. Beverly." She glanced over at the other admiral in the room. He nodded. "Jean-Luc," she added. She would have said more but there was a tap on the door.

Opening it, Admiral Brand entered. "I am sooooo sorry," the still very worried woman stated as she walked into the room.

"It wasn't food poisoning," Beverly quickly replied. "We are the ones who are truly sorry for disrupting your lovely party in such an unpleasant manner."

"Don't be silly, Beverly." Admiral Brand looked over at Jean-Luc. "Beverly seems to have perked up. How about you?"

"I will be fine, Mercedes," Jean-Luc replied. "About tomorrow…"

"Both Admiral Picards are spending the next twenty-four hours resting," Dr. Bolt announced. "Whether it is at home or here in the hospital is entirely up to them, and how well they obey my orders."

Andrea Brand could only grin at that thought when it came to Jean-Luc Picard.

"We both will be very good," Beverly promised. And she meant it.

And they were.