Just a quick drabble. I'll get back to the substance soon! -Becca

I am in my right mind to kill Hope Durnsley. I have 27 patients today, I'm on my 16th and I can't focus one bit. Yes, I know, I know, it's a simple, quick test. All I have to do is take out my tricorder and check!

I'm not expecting to be pregnant. When Saoirse was conceived, I felt it. It sounds strange, but I had an itching feeling that she was there. And are we ready for another baby? I don't know why I get like this every time I think I'm pregnant; of course we're ready! We've been trying and trying. And now that I've gotten myself thinking about it, and getting my hopes up over it – I'll invariably be disappointed if I wave that probe and the tricorder scans give me a negative result.

"Beverly?" I jump at the sound of a soft voice behind me.

"Yes, Betsey?"

The older woman smiles and hands me a padd, "Your next patient is in room 2. Here's her chart. Oh, and your last two patients of the day cancelled. Lory Elblum says that she can't make it for her booster update today because she's waiting on a late delivery of 2 mares. And John Kinnabrent had a family situation come up so he needed to reschedule his physical."

"Sure, Bets, that's fine. What time will I finish today so I can tell Jean Luc?"

She quickly scans the other padd in her hands, "that puts you at 3:45 if your last patient is on time and she should be – Mary Travis is usually prompt! In fact, last year I think she was an hour early for her physical!"

I nod my head and take the padd from her, scanning it briefly. "Thanks, Bets. I'll call John." It's still funny to me that very few people here say Jean Luc. Most people in our town call him John still or John Luke. It doesn't matter and we generally don't have the heart to correct them. In fact, even I've just started calling Jean Luc 'John' when I'm talking about him with patients or colleagues.

/

I still haven't spoken with Jean Luc today. For that matter, I haven't heard from Wesley either. When he left the transporter station we discussed that he was going to go to school, meet with the dean, withdraw his enrollment, transport whatever he needed to home with him and then call Jean Luc, or me, to come and get him. With all the hullaballoo that's been going on this past week, I really need to go home tonight and find my family safe and sound in the house.

"So, did you check?"

"Huh?" I turn around to see Hope putting down her last patient chart on the desk.

"No," I draw a deep breath, "Hope I don't really think that I'm pregnant. I don't know where you're getting that from."

She smiles, "remember the first time you were pregnant?"

I remember fondly; yes Hope was able to pinpoint it that time. "Yes, but I was expecting it."

"Bev, I could be wrong. But you've certainly got that glow about you. You once likened me to a human tricorder. Let's see if I'm right. In fact, let's bet on it!"

This sounds suspicious -like poker night on the Enterprise. "Alright," I smile, "what are we betting on?"

"If I win and you're pregnant, you have to make a non-replicated potato salad for our next barbeque."

"What?" What?

"Hope that is possibly the lamest bet I've ever heard!" I was expecting her to ask me to dictate her charts for the next month!

"Nonsense. I love homemade potato salad but it takes forever to make and my recipe never comes out right. In fact, while we're at it, I'm making an addition to that order: devilled eggs. So, yes if you're pregnant, you're making homemade potato salad and devilled eggs."

I laugh and shake my head, "Oh, Hope. I honestly hope that I'm not pregnant! That's a lot of work!"

She throws up her hands in mock concession. "We could end this all right now and you could just accept the fact that you're pregnant and I'll confirm it with the tricorder."

"No," I say with a coy smile, "no, let's go along with the bet. Now, if I'm not pregnant, you have to convince Jean Luc to come in for his physical AND he actually has to come."

"Oh, Bev, I really hope I'm right…" She chuckles. Jean Luc is notorious for evading his year physicals. On the Enterprise it was like pulling teeth to get him to come down to Sickbay for a 10-minute appointment.

I hand her my calibrated tricorder, "alright!"

She smiles, "I know that I'm going to be right," she mutters as she programs the probe.

Remember what I said earlier about time passing agonizingly slowly in moments of tension? These few seconds are peeling by. I'm nervous and my palms are getting sweaty. I feel my pulse race as I try to convince myself that I'm not pregnant. If I convince myself I'm not then I can't be-

"Ha!" a big, smug grin pulls at Hope's delicate features, "Looks like I'm getting potato salad and devilled eggs!"