A rush of air leaves my lungs as I lean over the edge of Saoirse's crib. She's so sweet when she sleeps, I muse to myself. A smile pulls at me as she tosses and turns, a silly grin plastered over her little cheeks. If she were awake, she'd be laughing a dulcet melody that would colour and liven the immovable walls of the house.
What are you dreaming about, Kitten? What do you see? Where are you?
A kiss graces my hair, "Hi, Kitten," his low voice greets as he looks on at her over my shoulder.
"Is Aaron asleep?" I lean back against him, assuming our pose from earlier.
His arm wraps around my waist, holding me to him. "Like a rock," he smirks, his soft breath tickling my ear. "I think these children take after me, Beverly…"
"In the sleep department?" I laugh. "Oh most definitely if they slept through that," I motion to the window. The haze from the fire is still visible even from this window looking away from it. "Have them come yet?"
"Mmm, just a few moments ago," he pauses. "They're in the back right now, spraying the fire retardant on the barn."
"It's got to be just ash at this point," I muse, thinking back to the savageness of the flame and how it just seemed to consume the skeleton of the barn, right down to the last atom. "I'm sorry…"
"About the barn?" He chuckles, breathing in my hair. " Its been in need of overhaul for a while…" His arm encircles me more tightly as he buries his nose in my hair and breathes me in. "That was close, Beverly." He breathes, "too close."
"I know," I agree. "What are we going to do, Jean Luc?" I bend down, loosening his grasp on me as I smooth the back of my finger over Saoirse's sleeping forehead. "I," I laugh. "I just don't know how much more of this I can take! Wesley," I muse. "Wes can take care of himself to an extent, but what if they come after the little ones next time?" I remold myself into him. "The worst part of all of this is that we don't even know who's coming after us!"
"I know," he soothes against me. "I know."
"So," I turn to him, seeing glassy moisture in his eyes. "What are we going to do? Should we go home?"
"Beverly," he pulls me back to him, as much for his benefit as my own. "I… I don't know… I don't have any solutions this time," the window holds a new significance to him as it draws him away from me, leaving me momentarily bereft. "I used to have all the answers. I used to have control." He smirks, an acerbic inflection twanging his voice. "People used to look to me to have everything planned – you used to… well..."
My heart drops as I take his hand. "I still look up to you, Jean Luc. Wes and I both do. And Saoirse," I look back at her, "and Aaron think you're a hero. Well," I turn back to him with a smile. "I'm pretty sure Wesley does too."
A tiny smile tugs at him. "Beverly," he chides.
I draw his gaze away from the darkness to meet me. "Jean Luc," I trace cheek, starting at the base of his orbit, moving down over the maxilla to stop on his strong mandible. "None of this is at all your fault; it's none of our fault. I just…" What else is there to say?
"I know," gentle fingers replace a stray piece of hair behind my ear before continuing their gentle path all the way down through the long length. "Your hair," he changes the subject. "Is so long now." More fingers tangle in the long fibers.
"Oh?" I laugh. "Should I cut it?"
His head shoots up, "don't you dare!"
"Oh, I don't know Jean Luc," I tease. "A change might be in order."
He holds the soft tresses even tighter. "No," he shakes his head with a smile. "You know I almost cried when you came back to the Enterprise after leaving for Starfleet Medical – your hair was so short. Shorter than I'd ever seen it!" He looks back at me. "Of course, it was still beautiful, but I missed the length of it. Sometimes," He smirks as his cheeks flush with embarrassment at the oncoming admission. "I'd, uh, well,"
"You'd what?" I giggle at his reticence, kissing his jaw, prodding him to look at me.
"Sometimes I'd have the biggest urge just to reach out and touch it. To wrap my fingers in it," He messily twirls some more strands. "To bury myself in it; to inhale your scent and surround myself in you anyway that I could." He leans in to me, one hand snaking its way around my waist. I cachinnate as more warm air tickles the baby hair behind my ear as I wrap my arms around his shoulders and bring him closer. "Sometimes you'd rush past me and your hair would hit me straight in the face," he smirks at the remembrance. "And, I know it's silly to say, but it made me want you even more."
"So many fantasies, Jean Lu-" I'm cut off unawares as his lips catch mine before I can finish my sentence. His warmth opens to me, melds with my own, and grounds me. Yes, Jean Luc, I think to myself. I still look up to you. I still need you desperately. Even when you doubt yourself, I'm here to hold you and to remind you of who you are and how who you are is more than sufficient. He starts to move away, but I rend him to me, fastening my hands around his jaw as I hold on for as long as I can.
"…About my hair," I finish, breathless and with a grin.
"We still have to decide what we're going to do," he looks down, stepping away from me and regaining his staid countenance. "We can't stay here with Robert and Marie…"
"No," I cogitate. "I don't think it's fair to embroil them any further."
"What scares me, though," He rubs his eyes, yawning through his next words. "Is that we don't know who did this. We knew, when all of this came out, that there were going to be repercussions to taking on the 'Daystrom Institute'." He laughs morbidly, "We still don't even know what that is!"
"What is the news saying?" Shamefully, neither of us has been paying much attention to the media; we came here to get away and hope that the problem would fix itself.
"They're not saying much," he gestures. "From what last I read, authorities have taken everyone in that 'little black book' into custody, but who knows if that was the sum total of everyone involved!"
"And what about the Daystrom Institute itself?"
He shrugs, "it's been closed. But Beverly," he ruminates. "We both know that the Institute is just a place – it's the people that we're worried about."
"I know," I capitulate. "But what else is there to do?" I remember, "They offered to give us protection and I'm wondering now if we should take it."
"No," he shakes his head. "They offered to put us into hiding. And," He looks at me and pauses. "Do you think that's what we should do? Hide?"
"I don't know," I breathe. "Jean Luc, I just want to go home and not have to worry about any of this…"
"I know," he hangs his head in defeat; we're up against a rock and a hard place. Everything seems helpless when you're in the mindset of a caged animal. "I just don't know if going into hiding is the answer."
"Jean Luc?" I hear voices downstairs.
"What?" He cocks his head, reorienting himself from his own musings.
"Robert is calling us from downstairs."
"Robert?" He calls in return.
"Jean Luc, Beverly-." His voice is faded from bouncing off so many walls on its way to us.
"Robert?" He calls again as we move out into the hallway. "Robert what is it?"
"There are-"
"What?" I beckon back, the latter part of his statement cut off again.
"There are men here to see you."
Thank you everyone! Now, I'm interested to see where they'll go from here? Hmmm? Predictions?
Big thanks to Mark, Lydia, Linds, Mark, Marin, Jordan, the DancingDR, and everyone else who has been commenting! Love hearing from all of you, as always!