AN: Here's the second piece to this one!

I hope you enjoy! If you do, please do let me know!

111

As Beverly moved to take the place of her once holographic self, Jean-Luc felt his senses were simply overwhelmed by his surroundings. Holographic or not, they felt real. Everything felt real.

Jean-Luc had only just helped Beverly to the floor, unsure of what to do or how to process any of this, when the first contraction hit her. Immediately, his chest tightened, and he realized that this was a mistake in so many ways.

Since she'd restarted the program, Jean-Luc could be sure that these contractions weren't the worst to come—contractions he knew were created by the push and pull of the force fields within the holoprogram, since these kinds of things were commonly used for empathy training for medical situations.

Still, it was immediately clear that Beverly wasn't going to handle these contractions well. She cried out, surprise mixing with pain, perhaps, since it was her first experience in some years with contractions, and she grabbed for Jean-Luc. He didn't hesitate to hold her, but he could tell that she wasn't with him. She wasn't fully present in the moment, and he was under no impression that she was simply drawn into the experience.

Jean-Luc knew trauma when he saw it.

"Computer…freeze program," Jean-Luc announced with as much authority as he possibly could, as though the computer might deny his request somehow.

Immediately, everything stopped. Beverly, panting, hugged against him, and he hugged her back, rubbing her back and kissing her face.

"Jean-Luc…I want to do this," she said, as soon as she was back with him. He smiled just to know she was there.

"Not like this," he said. "If we're going to do this…we're not going to do it like this. The whole idea is to experience what we could have had…to have a second chance. Let's have that second chance. Computer—change holoprogram setting to Enterprise-D sickbay, private birthing area. Raise temperature and provide a sickbay gown and blankets. Monitor vitals of mother and baby throughout delivery. Change labor pattern…we don't want anything reminiscent enough of the saved labor to be triggering." Jean-Luc looked at Beverly. Her expression was calm, now, and he saw a sparkle, in her eyes, of something he'd only learned to truly accept since rekindling their relationship—love. "Is that acceptable?" He asked.

"By all means," Beverly said, laughing breathily. His pulse kicked up. She often made that expression and that sound when she was, in some way, impressed with him. Jean-Luc wanted to make her feel impressed with him—both as a husband and a father—so he appreciated the show of feeling and what it meant.

He cleared his throat.

"Are you ready?" He asked.

"As long as you're with me," she offered.

"Computer—restart program with updated parameters."

Jean-Luc helped Beverly to her feet as the Eleos disappeared around them. Temporarily, it was replaced by the familiar grids of the holodeck, and then the Enterprise-D's sickbay materialized around them. Immediately, Jean-Luc could practically feel the relaxation that Beverly clearly felt.

She smiled at him, and then her face drew up in a wince. He caught her arms and heard the sound of the nearby monitor as it registered a contraction.

"Is it too much?" He asked.

She laughed.

"It's hardly anything," she said, blowing out her breath. "There—it's done."

"For now," Jean-Luc said.

"For now," she echoed.

"Let me help you change," Jean-Luc offered, gesturing toward the sickbay gown.

"It's hardly necessary, really," Beverly said. "In these simulations, there are contractions, but there's no real pregnancy. The delivery simulations only work with holographic mothers. Empathy simulations just end before the delivery, and then there's a temporary bonding time with the holographic baby that appears after the first part of the program ends. None of this is real, after all, Jean-Luc."

"You could have fooled me, honestly," Jean-Luc said, looking at the holographic belly that she'd gained as the visual parameters were fulfilled. She looked at the belly, too, and smiled. "May I?" He asked, reaching forward as though he may touch it. She caught his hand and pressed it to her belly.

"It's only a holographic projection," Beverly said. "Still—it feels remarkably real, even to me."

"Is this how you looked?" Jean-Luc asked.

Beverly smiled at him.

"More than twenty years younger," she said.

"For the experience," Jean-Luc said, holding up the gown. Beverly nodded her agreement and began to work her way out of her clothes—all of which had been at least visually altered to suit what their brains expected. "Remarkable," Jean-Luc said, looking at her.

"Just a trick to your senses," Beverly reminded him.

"But for one moment—I can touch you," he said.

"Oooh," Beverly breathed out.

"Are you OK?" He asked.

She moved toward him, still without her gown, and he instinctively took her into his arms.

"You better touch me for more than a minute," she said, practically speaking the words into his neck. He held her as tightly as she wanted to be held until the contraction passed. She pulled away when she was ready, and Jean-Luc immediately started to help her into the gown. "That one was stronger," she said. "Of course…I did speed up the program for logistics. We can't leave Laris that long—and we're here to spend at least some time with our friends."

Jean-Luc held her arms for support—emotional and physical, should she need it.

"Would you prefer the bed or the chair?" He asked.

"The bed for now," she said. "But—would you sit with me?"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," Jean-Luc assured her. "I'm afraid that…I don't know what I'm doing, however. You'll have to tell me what you want."

Beverly directed him, and Jean-Luc took his position behind her. She leaned back into him, humming with satisfaction and something akin to comfort when she settled against him. He closed his eyes and took in every sensation of holding her like this. He let his hands trail around to hold her belly, under the gown that they'd never secured. There was, after all, very little need for modesty or privacy when they were entirely alone. There weren't even holographic patients.

Jean-Luc didn't know how long they were there. Time started to become something of a blur. The contractions came more regularly than they had. Though he knew they were nothing more than the push and pull of force fields on Beverly's body, they felt real to Jean-Luc, where his hands touched the belly that didn't exist.

It became increasingly obvious, too, that they felt real to Beverly. She moaned and, more than once, she cried out in response to the effects on her body. Jean-Luc held her. He whispered in her ear, though the words often stuck in his throat because he knew that, when this had been real, he hadn't been there to offer her even the simplest comfort.

And another ache sliced through him to remember that none of this was real—nothing except the pain and the comfort.

They would leave the holodeck without the child. The child, after all, had been born long ago and was now in Starfleet, himself.

"You are doing wonderfully," Jean-Luc soothed. "You're incredible, Beverly. Strong. Stronger than I could ever be. You always have been."

"Don't leave…" Beverly said.

"I wasn't leaving," Jean-Luc said, recognizing that he was talking to some of her trauma. "I wasn't leaving. I never would have left, Beverly."

"I left you…oh…I didn't want to leave you…"

"You did what you had to do," Jean-Luc said. "I pray you always will."

"I wanted you there…"

"I would have been there, Beverly. Just as I am here, now, I would have been there."

"Duty would have come first, Jean-Luc," Beverly said.

Jean-Luc started to suggest that, perhaps, this conversation was better suited for another time—a time when they weren't attempting to bring a child into the world, but then he decided that now was as good a time as any, and he wasn't going to dictate how Beverly could spend her time laboring.

"I would have married you, Beverly," Jean-Luc said, holding her and feeling her squeeze his arms in her fingers as another contraction hit her.

"And then I would have been an obligation," Beverly said. "Jack would have been an obligation."

Jean-Luc stopped a moment. He wanted to tell her that she was wrong. He wanted to tell her that he would never have felt that she was an obligation, nor that Jack was an obligation, and that he never would have married her because of that. He couldn't say that with sincerity, though.

"From where I stand now, Beverly…I recognize that I was a fool. For so long…I was a fool. You were right there. All of this was within my grasp. All that I have now, and more, perhaps, I could have had for so long, and I was a fool, believing some nonsense about a captain's duty to his ship and the lack of room for a family in his life."

Beverly laughed.

"You hid behind that, Jean-Luc," Beverly said.

He felt a sinking sensation.

"You're right," he said. "Because I was afraid. I was a coward."

"You're a brave man, Jean-Luc…"

"But not when it comes to matters of the heart," he said. "Not when it comes to love."

"I think you're growing up a little," Beverly teased, her laughter cut short by her complaint about another wave of pain that caught her. Jean-Luc nuzzled the side of her face and neck as he rubbed her belly and tried to soothe her.

"I missed so much of my life, Beverly," Jean-Luc said. "Your life. Jack's life. The life we could have had…"

"But we have now," Beverly breathed out. "This moment. We have Jack. We have a life. And it's a pretty wonderful life, Jean-Luc. I love you…and I love our life, very much."

He kissed the side of her face. She was sweating. The labor wasn't real, but the pain was, and the physical exertion was. He could feel her muscles when they tensed and relaxed. He could feel her body as she worked to breathe through it all. He could hear the monitors that were making sure that nothing got too far out of hand. For these types of simulations, there were Emergency Medical Training Representatives—less-advanced versions of EMHs—that would intervene, automatically, if necessary.

"I love you, Beverly. Can you forgive me for being selfish? For wishing for more? For all that I missed? For more time…"

"We have plenty of time," Beverly assured him. "Help me sit up more?"

Jean-Luc did as she asked. She changed her position, leaning somewhat sideways against him, and he let her do what felt comfortable to her. He assumed she would best know what she needed. He remembered only very little that he'd ever picked up along the way about labor and delivery. He requested ice and cool rags, and the computer quietly complied. He rubbed at Beverly's face with the cool cloth and she smiled at him before resting her head against his chest and curling her fingers over his thigh, holding onto him while she allowed him to have one arm free for holding her, and the other for mopping at her face and offering her pieces of ice to suck from his fingers—in the least sexual way ever, though, remarkably, in what he would have said was the most intimate.

"We have plenty of time, Jean-Luc," Beverly repeated. "And—we have this. We can relive any moment we feel like we need to. But—I wouldn't go back with you, Jean-Luc." She sat up a little and looked at him, holding his eyes with hers. He wiped at her face and she closed her eyes, clearly enjoying the affection for a second. "I wouldn't leave Laris. Not now. Not even if we could go back."

Jean-Luc's chest ached.

"Of course," he said. "Laris. I suppose I just…imagine she would go with us. Somehow, she would be there."

"She wouldn't," Beverly said. "And maybe without you…without the circumstances that put you where you were…she…" Beverly stopped. There was a certain quality of sadness to her tone. Jean-Luc took her hand in his and raised it, kissing her fingers in between contractions, when her fingers were often curled tightly and digging into some part of him.

"We're not leaving her behind," Jean-Luc said. "It was merely a daydream…an old man's regrets."

"I'm tired of regretting, Jean-Luc," Beverly said. She sounded tired, in general, and Jean-Luc knew this was taking a toll on her physically, mentally, and emotionally.

"Do you want to stop?" He asked.

"No," Beverly said. "Please. But—when we're done…no more regrets?"

Jean-Luc's throat ached. He worried that he couldn't keep the promise to have no more regrets. He worried that he couldn't let go of the ones that he'd held onto for so long—comfortable and familiar like a favorite shirt.

"We have this moment, Jean-Luc," Beverly said, as though she could read his mind. "And then—we let it go. We live in the now. Our now. And our future."

"Now you sound like Laris," he said with a smile.

"I've been called worse," Beverly teased.

"We have this moment," Jean-Luc agreed. "And then—we focus on our present and our future. We let the past be what it is…what it always will be. And we embrace what we have."

She smiled and offered him a kiss—a kiss that ended abruptly in a gasp and a growl. The pain in her eyes made his chest clench. He tried to comfort her, and she squirmed into him, almost as though she wanted to be so close to him that, if possible, she might have crawled inside of him. He held her as he felt her body tense.

"Do you want me to stop the program?" He asked her again.

"No," she said. "But—it feels like something's happening."

"Something?" Jean-Luc asked. "Like what?"

She pulled away from him, almost like she might try to run away from the situation, but she didn't go far at all, simply shifting her position and getting off the bed. Jean-Luc instinctively followed her, and when she turned and held onto the side of the bed for support, he stood behind her and rested his hands on her hips in case she might find that she needed a little additional support from him.

She growled at him through gritted teeth and swayed. He decided not to take the growl personally. He rubbed her back with one hand and, finding that he got a hint of a moan of approval, he kept doing it.

"I'm afraid you're going to have to talk to me," Jean-Luc pressed, when he was pretty sure that the contraction had passed.

"It feels like I need to push," Beverly said.

"Push?" Jean-Luc asked.

"Push!" Beverly barked loudly and with no shortage of irritation. "Push—like push the baby out, Jean-Luc!"

She accentuated several of those words differently than she normally would, practically wailing out his name.

"Well—then—perhaps you should push…" Jean-Luc ventured, not sure of the right answer.

"There's nothing to push out!" Beverly barked. With each passing second, Jean-Luc could sense a tension growing that wasn't there before. "Oh—oh but it feels like there is!"

"Perhaps there is…" Jean-Luc offered.

"There's no way…" Beverly responded when she clearly felt she could. "That's not how these program work!"

"They're quite advanced," Jean-Luc offered, "and the Enterprise D has state of the art technology, now, Beverly. It's possible this is a feature that we weren't aware of before."

"I don't want to push!" Beverly said loudly. She turned around, and Jean-Luc wrapped her in his arms. It was all that he knew to do. He hugged her as tightly as he could. "I don't want to. I don't want to push…I don't want to do this alone…"

Jean-Luc felt his chest tighten.

"Not alone, my love," he said. "Never alone. But…Computer…freeze program."

Nothing happened. Jean-Luc repeated his command. Nothing happened. He held Beverly tightly as she groaned against the sensations wracking her body. The sounds of the monitors told him that she was OK. She was a little more overwhelmed than he would have liked, but she was OK.

"Computer—end program."

There was no response. There was no announcement from the computer, even, that it didn't intend to comply with Jean-Luc's wishes.

"An excellent time for a malfunction," he muttered. "Computer—arch." No response. "Computer—open a communication line." No response.

And Jean-Luc grew increasingly more desperate as he grew increasingly more aware of Beverly's growing desperation. Finally, he addressed her with what he knew she didn't want to hear.

"It seems we have no choice except for to see this through," Jean-Luc said. "Perhaps, by finishing the simulation, it will end."

"See it through?" Beverly asked.

"You're going to have to push, Beverly."

"There's nothing to push…" Beverly said.

"You said it feels as though there is," Jean-Luc said. "Maybe you have to participate in that part of the simulation." He could see something in her face. There was exhaustion there. There was pain. But, more than any of that, there was something else. It hurt him more than anything else.

She would have done this alone. She would have felt afraid and vulnerable. She would have felt desperate, and that was all coming back to her now.

Jean-Luc pulled her close to him again and kissed her forehead.

"You can do this," he said. "I will help you. I'm here. And if we can't end the program, maybe it will let us change the parameters. We can have an Emergency Medical Training Representative to help you, and I can focus all of my attention on simply being there for you—the way I should have been, Beverly. Can we do this together, to try to end the program?"

Beverly looked a little relieved. She nodded.

"Where will you be more comfortable?" Jean-Luc asked.

"The chair," she said, gesturing toward the birthing chair. Jean-Luc nodded and helped her over to it. He noticed, as he helped her get situated, how she clung to him.

"I'm not going anywhere," he assured her, catching her face and rubbing his fingers across her cheeks reassuringly. "Nearly everyone would be in the databank, who would you like?"

"Moran," Beverly said. She smiled. "She would have probably delivered Jack…"

"Computer—Activate Emergency Medical Training Representative Doctor Rachel Moran," Jean-Luc said. He held his breath, hoping that the computer would give them this, at least. He sighed with happiness when it did.

Dr. Rachel Moran, at least as she appeared to them, was not too much more aged than she'd been when she'd first served as a Beta Shift doctor on the Enterprise. These recordings were used and reused, even though the programs were upgraded frequently as new technology became available. She was photonic—and not nearly as adaptive as an EMH—and so she didn't recognize them or have any of Dr. Moran's personality traits. Her photonic self was simply a flat version of herself meant to fulfill a function.

She was simply a doctor with a good bedside manner.

"Doctor—it's time to push, we believe," Jean-Luc said.

Dr. Moran smiled at him, somewhat blankly. She didn't know him. She wasn't really herself. She didn't know Beverly, either. The real Dr. Moran did know them. She would have been shocked to see them in such a predicament.

The photonic doctor took her place and examined Beverly.

"Oh—it is time to push! Now—with your next contraction, you can start to push, if you're ready."

"What is it?" Beverly asked, looking at Jean-Luc.

"What is it?" He asked, echoing the question to Dr. Moran.

"I beg your pardon?" She asked. "What is what?"

"What am I pushing out?" Beverly asked, still clearly resisting any and all urge to push. Dr. Moran, thankfully, didn't press her. She was programmed with patience, it seemed.

"A baby, of course! We'll know soon if it's a boy or a girl! Now—Mama—you can push when you're ready!"

"It can't be a baby, Jean-Luc!" Beverly insisted.

"Then, whatever it is, we'll deal with it," Jean-Luc assured her. He took her hand and held it, moving so that he could be close to her and let her hold onto him. "Push when you're ready, Beverly. Take your time. There's no hurry here. Whatever it is, we'll deal with it."

Beverly seemed to take a moment longer to believe him, but, finally, she either decided to trust him that, somehow, they'd handle this, or else the need to push grew too great for her to ignore. She finally began pushing, and Jean-Luc encouraged her through the push, as did Dr. Moran. When he could see that she was tired, and that the pushing seemed to use a great deal of her energy reserves, Jean-Luc repeated his assurance that they had all the time she needed. Dr. Moran didn't contradict him and, so, he convinced Beverly to take her time, pushing only when she felt she could.

It seemed to take an eternity, but Jean-Luc knew that part of that was the heightened anticipation of not knowing what was going to happen. Finally, though, Dr. Moran began to encourage Beverly in a different way, telling her that the head was visible.

Jean-Luc moved only enough to see what was happening.

"What is it?" Beverly asked through gritted teeth.

"It appears very much to be a baby," Jean-Luc said. Beverly still held to his hand, though mostly it felt dead now from so much abuse.

"That's not possible," Beverly said.

"Forgive me, but I'm not sure the program is aware of that," Jean-Luc said. "Even now, I can see Jack being born…and…Beverly? It's incredible."

She protested that it was impossible the entire time that she delivered the baby fully into the world. Dr. Moran helped to safely deliver the baby, and she quickly passed it to Beverly and set about cleaning it off.

"What is it?" Beverly panted.

"It's a boy!" Dr. Moran said with enthusiasm.

"They must have upgraded the simulation," Jean-Luc offered. He followed Dr. Moran's instructions for cutting the cord, and then he got beside Beverly and smiled at her, kissing her sweaty forehead as she accepted the baby and helped Dr. Moran to clean it. Jean-Luc's throat ached as he was reminded that this baby was nothing more than a photonic being. Like a relatively young Dr. Moran, it would vanish when the simulation was played out—assuming that the malfunction in the holodeck was resolved soon. At any rate, when the program ended, Jack—this Jack—would be gone. "It's Jack. It's our son…"

Beverly looked happy, now, as she examined her photonic baby. She kissed him, and she kissed Jean-Luc. He ached to think how she would feel when it was time to leave the baby behind as nothing more than a memory or a daydream.

"I will never be able to thank you enough for this," Jean-Luc told her sincerely.

"You were with me," she said. "That's how it was supposed to be."

"It's how it was always supposed to be," Jean-Luc agreed. "And now—to see Jack…"

Beverly offered him the baby and he took his son gently from her arms. His whole being ached at the thought that he'd missed this. He'd missed all of it. He'd missed every moment of Jack's life until really quite recently.

But Beverly had given him this one brief moment back.

"Jack…" He breathed out.

"It's not Jack," Beverly said.

"What?" He asked.

She smiled at him, looking exhausted. The photonic Dr. Moran was practically on hold, standing to the side, not interacting since she had no actual personality to speak of and no purpose until they needed her again to help Beverly—though Jean-Luc hoped that Beverly had suffered no genuine injury or damage during the simulation.

"It's not Jack," Beverly said. "I know Jack. The simulation just created a boy for us. A baby. But—it's not Jack. I'm sorry, Jean-Luc."

Jean-Luc looked at the tiny baby in his arms that he almost couldn't possibly believe was not a real baby. It resembled both of them, at least a little, but it mostly looked like a newborn—generic, he supposed, with a bit of input from the parents. It was sophisticated technology.

"It's nothing terrible," Jean-Luc said. "At least we've had the experience and…dare I say…a moment with our photonic son."

He saw the look on Beverly's face, then. It was the moment she realized—or, rather, remembered—that this wasn't real.

"We'll love him a little while," Jean-Luc assured her. "And that will have to be enough."

She nodded her understanding.

"Soon we'll have a baby…" Beverly said.

Jean-Luc knew that she was referring to the child that they hoped Laris would conceive, soon, for their little family.

"Soon," he echoed. "Here—you should hold him…"

Before Jean-Luc could transfer the baby back to her arms, though, Beverly looked surprised, then worried, and she grimaced, reaching a hand out toward him and one toward Dr. Moran.

"What is it?" Jean-Luc asked, offering a hand to Beverly, but being careful not to drop the baby. Real or only an illusion, he couldn't let it be hurt.

"I don't know! It's starting again…I feel like I have to push…"

Dr. Moran moved into position without a word or a formal request. Smiling, she encouraged Beverly to push and promised her that her "other baby" would be joining them soon. Jean-Luc felt overwhelmed, confused, and honestly afraid of whatever malfunction was occurring with the program. Beverly must have felt the same, but it didn't allow her much time to protest. Before Jean-Luc really knew what was happening, another baby was pulled from Beverly's body and rested on her chest.

Both she and Dr. Moran went to work cleaning the baby.

"It's a girl!" Dr. Moran announced before guiding Jean-Luc to the position to cut the cord for the girl. Beverly drew the truly tiny baby girl up into her arms.

"A girl…twins?" Jean-Luc asked.

"Twins!" Dr. Moran announced enthusiastically. "You'll deliver the placenta, soon, but you can relax."

"There are no more?" Beverly asked.

"You were expecting more?" Dr. Moran asked genuinely.

"I wasn't expecting these," Beverly confessed. "Jean-Luc…"

He shushed her and kissed her forehead again, brushing her hair back before wiping away a few stray tears.

"We will consider it simply a precious moment that we have been granted to share together," he said softly, trying to soothe her. She seemed to relax.

"There's no more?" Beverly asked again, still unsure about everything that was taking place.

And, then, without any warning, Dr. Moran disappeared and, in a flash, someone else took her place—someone Jean-Luc had never imagined he would see again.

"How many more of the little rugrats did you want?" The familiar voice asked. "I thought two would be plenty—a boy and a girl, the perfect combination, from what I understand about you mortals and your mating and procreation practices and desires."

"Q!" Jean-Luc breathed out.

Q smiled.

"Hello again, Jean-Luc—old friend! I've missed you!"