Hi everyone! Back from London and as promised - here is another chapter. Thanks for reading! -Becca

"Needs to give you something? Like what?" Wesley posits incredulously, trying to keep his voice low as we don't want to wake the 2 children sleeping next to him.

I shake my head, throwing my hands up in question, "that's all she said in her message; she wasn't very specific." For the past hour and a half since I received the communiqué, I've been trying to discern what Nana would possibly want to give me. Nothing that she has is truly of any value. We don't have any family heirlooms other than Nana's candleholder. I can't imagine why she'd want to give me that! It's nothing to gawk over; it's a wrought iron receptacle. The house, she told me a long time ago, would be left to the colony. Her furniture is old; so I won't be taking any of it. So, what could she possibly have that would be of any sentimental value?

The cabin is silent as Wesley and Jean Luc give me time to think. Wes, however, breaks my musings. "I'm sorry, Mom." He reaches over and takes my hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I'll stay with Saoirse and Aaron. Don't worry about it. I'm sure Hope, Laurie, and Karla won't mind you being away for another few days."

The practice! Oh in all my fuss I completely forgot about the practice. My head falls back in exasperation against the seat behind me, "Oh," my hand comes up to rub my temple. "Work!"

I feel a warm arm come around my shoulders, "Beverly," I look to my left. "Wes is right; they'll survive a few more days."

I know they will, but I still feel guilty. We've become so, so busy and we're only getting more and more patients coming to us. It's good, though; it's wonderful income, it's engaging, and it's job security. I also hate leaving so much work with our staff. Laurie is new… well she's new to us. And Karla's been there for a while, and she's great – but her skills are limited. It's OK, I tell myself; we'll manage for a few more days. "I'll go see Hope when we land and explain everything to her. It'll be alright." I say it more to comfort myself than for the benefit of those around me.

/

"What time do we have to leave for the station?" The breath against my neck inquires.

"45 minutes. We should get up..." I say that with as little enthusiasm as I can muster; we're dog-tired! Yes, Labarre was relaxing and up until yesterday afternoon, I felt rested, rejuvenated, and ready to go back to work. But, everything changed after I got that message. Now I'm worried, apprehensive, and sad. But, you know what ( I'm even afraid to admit this to myself), I'm angry that I'm not as sad as I should be.

I think that if Nana and I had maintained our level of closeness that we had before I left for the Academy and the few subsequent years that I came back from school, I would have been a lot more heartbroken. As it is, though, we barely spoke after Jack's death and when I was on the Enterprise, we conserved very lax communication. It's such a shame and if there's anything that I should be sad about, it's that. I'm also angry that she never properly got to know my husband, Wes, and now our two little ones.

When I was younger, I thought that Nana could do anything. I would sit at her feet and it seemed like she had an answer for every question that I asked. I thought that she'd always be around; that we'd always be together. I guess I never lost that juvenile notion; I always assumed that we'd have time. And now, we have none. She's dying and I've wasted my opportunities.

The arm around my waist tightens its grip for a second before it disengages and rips the covers away from us. "Jean Luc," I say with a bit of force. "That was very naughty." I snuggle closer to him to maintain a semblance of the warmth that the covers provided.

"I know," his voice adopts a tone of mock pity as he disentangles himself from me. "But we must get going." I feel him leave the space behind me, exposing me to more cold as he ushers me to follow his lead.

We dress in haste, making up for the malingering we engaged in just moment earlier. Leaving the bed tousled and unmade, we grab our bags and quickly make our way down the stairs. Wesley's woken and waiting for us. "Wes," I hug him, trying not to tear up. "We'll be in communications range so call us if anything happens."

"Ok," he yawns; getting up at 4am is not something that any of us engage in daily.

Jean Luc quickly hugs him as well as I tug him out the door. "I love you guys," he calls after us. "Be safe and call me when you get to Caldos."