AN: Here we are, the next piece!

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

111

"I expected to find you in the living room," Laris said, walking into the kitchen.

Jean-Luc immediately stood and pulled a chair out for her. She looked at it, like she might argue, and then she sat. Without asking if she wanted it, Jean-Luc requested a mint tea for her, and brought it.

"Why are you being so kind to me?" She asked as Jean-Luc took his seat again.

He laughed quietly to himself.

"I like to believe that I am usually kind to those who have given me no reason not to be," he said. "Am I mistaken? Have I been unkind to you before?"

"No," Laris said. "And that wasn't what I meant…not really."

"You meant, perhaps, that you are simply unaccustomed to the kindness of strangers," Jean-Luc said. She smiled faintly and nodded.

"That's more what I meant," she agreed. "It hasn't been very common in my life that someone wanted to take care of me…at least, not without an ulterior motive."

Jean-Luc laughed.

"I suppose there might be a bit of that," he said. "It's no secret that you and your daughter are immensely important to Beverly. You make her happy in a way that I haven't seen her happy for a long time. It's important to her that you're well taken care of. It's important to me, too."

Jean-Luc hadn't really thought about how much he meant those words, but as he rolled them around in his mouth for taste, the same as he would do for a new wine, he decided that he hadn't misspoken at all. Laris gave him a soft smile. She lifted her teacup and drank from it, thanking him for the tea before she sat the cup down again.

Jean-Luc thought that he could see what it was that Beverly saw in her. She was really quite beautiful, but she wasn't at all vain about it. She was the kind of beauty that didn't seem to realize she was a beauty at all. She was also warm and there was a peaceful easiness to her presence—nothing like what Jean-Luc would expect from the stereotypes he knew of Romulans, but welcome nonetheless. And, yet, there was also a spark that made it clear to him that, below the surface, a fire burned—a fire whose heat, he was sure, could be directed in a number of ways, depending on Laris's intentions.

"Beverly needs a few moments," Laris said. "I thought it was best if she took her time, before coming out here to talk to you."

It had already been—an hour? It had likely been longer, even. Jean-Luc had lost track of time.

"For as much time as she's taken," Jean-Luc mused, "what's a while longer?"

Laris nodded her head gently.

"You have every right to be angry," Laris said. "I've told her before that she ought to tell you."

"She must think I'm a monster," Jean-Luc said. "You must think I'm a monster. I must have been. I keep turning it over in my mind…every misstep that I can recall. I'm trying to remember the moment in which I was so much like him that she decided I wasn't fit to be a father."

"So much like…?" Laris asked.

"My father," Jean-Luc said. "I always said that…I wouldn't be a father because I didn't want to be like him."

"Did you ever…tell Beverly that?" Laris asked.

"Of course," Jean-Luc said.

"She never thought you were a monster," Laris said. "Neither have I, for what it's worth. But—she did absolutely believe that you…wouldn't want to be a father. Do you think it's possible that…you gave her that idea?"

"I suppose I must have," Jean-Luc said.

"Is that not the case?" Laris asked.

"I've hardly dreamed of fatherhood," Jean-Luc said. "But—with Beverly? There is very little that I wouldn't consider doing with Beverly, even if I weren't very good at it."

Laris contemplated her teacup and Jean-Luc contemplated adding something more. He felt like he should apologize, perhaps, but she didn't demand an apology at all. When she looked at him, again, she held his eyes without any look of anger or anything beyond the desire to understand him.

"What, then, has stopped you?" She asked. "From what I understand—you've had ample time. You have a history. Unless I misunderstood…"

"We have had quite the history," Jean-Luc said. "I suppose—it's as Beverly's said. I have always been dedicated to Starfleet. Duty. I've been chasing the stars since I was old enough to start."

"Chasing?" Laris asked. "Or—hiding?" When Jean-Luc didn't answer her, she nodded her head like he had said something. "There's duty, Jean-Luc, and then there's what we do to make life worth living."

"It's too late, anyway," Jean-Luc said, after a moment.

"Your baby isn't even born yet," Laris said with a laugh. "Beverly can feel it moving, but…I can't. She still won't turn on the results in the tricorder that tell her if it's a girl or a boy. Jean-Luc—it's far from too late. It's only just beginning."

Jean-Luc studied her. He sipped is wine.

"To beginnings, then," he said, half-heartedly. "And I shall be a father…hopefully, not quite like my own."

Laris laughed quietly.

"You'll be whatever kind of father you decide to be," Laris offered. "We are more, Jean-Luc, than our biology."

Jean-Luc couldn't help but smile to himself. He almost started to ask if the woman could read his mind and knew his own thoughts about her.

"Some of us certainly are," he said. "Unfortunately—it's too late for…well…for other things."

"She still loves you, you know," Laris offered.

The words—the very idea behind them—made Jean-Luc's stomach flutter. And, just as quickly as it all seemed to rise, he felt everything inside of him sink again.

"Beverly loves you," Jean-Luc said.

"In a lifetime, our capacity to love is hardly so limited as to be large enough for only one person…is it?" Laris asked.

"I suppose not," Jean-Luc ceded. "But—I respect you. And I respect your relationship with Beverly. I—am grateful for the happiness that you bring to her life. I would not be able to forgive myself, if I were to do anything to compromise that."

"I appreciate that, of course," Laris said. "It's a sacrifice that—I won't soon forget. However…I wouldn't want to be accused of deception or dishonesty, so I do think it's at least fair that I mention that Romulan trust bonds—marriages, you call them—always require at least three to begin. From there, of course, the details are always up to the members of the bond, but…"

"Trust bonds?" Jean-Luc asked.

"Marriages," Laris clarified.

"Are among three?" Jean-Luc asked.

"Always," Laris said. She smiled at him. He felt his stomach flutter again. "When Beverly does come to talk to you, and perhaps…for dinner…you have every right to be mad, Jean-Luc. But…I might remind you that, often, anger does not lead to understanding. And coldness seldom gives way to kindness."

111

Jean-Luc set the table—three places—and mused at the fact that this would, if Beverly agreed, likely be the way his life simply went, moving forward. There would be three places at the table. There would be three of them working their way through whatever this life held for all of them.

He had never considered the possibility before—the possibility of three—but now that he was allowing his imagination to make such a stretch, he was finding it oddly comforting.

There would be no wine at dinner. Jean-Luc chose a sparkling juice, instead, to celebrate the occasion. He delayed bringing food to the table, not wanting it to wait too long, and not knowing exactly how long it might take Laris to convince Beverly to come to dinner.

Jean-Luc didn't have to wait too long after he'd set the table. When Beverly walked into the dining room, where he'd chosen for them to have a meal that was nicer than one had at the simple kitchen table, she moved carefully and mindfully.

Jean-Luc pulled out a chair. He waved her toward it, and she came and sat, thanking him.

"Candles, Jean-Luc?" Beverly asked.

"It is an important night, Beverly," Jean-Luc said. "One that will never come again. After all—even if I were to become a father a dozen times over, there will only once be the first night I learned of my impending fatherhood."

"I should have told you sooner," Beverly said.

"We have plenty of time to discuss everything," Jean-Luc said. "Including choices and regrets of each of us. But, first, let me serve dinner. I thought we might start with a salad and bread?" Beverly hummed and nodded her approval. "Will Laris be joining us?" He asked.

"You mean—you don't know where she is?" Beverly asked.

"She went to get you," Jean-Luc said. "For dinner. At least, that was my understanding."

"When she left me, she was coming to help you get everything ready for dinner," Beverly said.

Jean-Luc nodded his understanding.

"It would seem that we've both been the victims of some sort of Romulan trick," Jean-Luc said.

Beverly got up from the table, and Jean-Luc followed her as she made her way to a window where she could see the back field.

"She hasn't left on the Eleos," Beverly said.

"Nor would I imagine she would," Jean-Luc said. "The house is secure and the system is activated. If she'd left the house, we would have been made aware."

"You think a former Tal Shiar operative is unable to deactivate the security system, Jean-Luc?" Beverly asked.

Jean-Luc laughed.

"I suppose you're right," he said. "However, I remain confident that Laris has not left the Château."

He frowned, seeing the look of concern—genuine, pained concern—flit across Beverly's features. He reached a hand out, touching her shoulder. She didn't shy away from him, and it was only after he'd done it that he realized what he'd done. The movement was natural for him—an innate desire to comfort Beverly that had been there for nearly as long as he'd known her—but he wasn't certain he was allowed that comfort any longer, for himself or for her.

She accepted his touch, even putting her own fingers lightly over his, and he felt warmth spread through his body.

"You don't understand," Beverly said. "She only just told me that…Romulans hide when they feel like there's something wrong with their pregnancy, or they're about to deliver."

"They hide?" Jean-Luc asked.

"Seclude themselves," Beverly said.

Jean-Luc smiled at her and squeezed her shoulder.

"Beverly—if you like, I will help you search every part of this Château from the basement to the attics," Jean-Luc said. "However, I have to ask—was Laris in any distress when last you saw her?"

"She is very good at performing," Beverly said.

"I don't disagree with that," Jean-Luc said. "I believe that she's also good at making things happen, when she wants them to happen. I could be wrong, but I believe that—rather than hiding somewhere in distress—Laris has chosen to make herself scarce so that we might have some time together, alone."

Beverly looked like she was at least considering what he was saying, and he felt some of her tension dissipate.

"We do have a great deal to discuss," Jean-Luc said.

Beverly nodded her acceptance of his explanation. She glanced back over her shoulder once, as though she half-expected to find Laris just behind her, and then she went with Jean-Luc back to the dining room. He pulled her chair out again, and he brought the food to the table, serving them both before he sat.

"I'm sorry," Beverly said. "I only…"

"Worry about your partner," Jean-Luc said. "Which is entirely natural and admirable. I am completely certain that she is fine, wherever she may be." He laughed to himself. "For all we know, she's observing us at this very moment and is either frustrated or amused."

Beverly laughed at that. She sat back in her chair, visibly relaxing.

"Is your food adequate?" Jean-Luc asked.

"It's very good," Beverly said. "I've been eating a lot of vegetables lately. I've been craving all kinds of them."

"I've noticed," Jean-Luc said. "Whereas it would appear that Laris has more carnivorous leanings. Cravings, correct? I hear that they're common for women in...your condition."

Beverly blushed slightly.

"I have to admit, I was prepared for something different."

"Different?" Jean-Luc asked.

"I thought you'd be angry," Beverly said. "Jean-Luc…you have every right to be angry."

"But, if I were to indulge that emotion, Beverly, what good would it do me? What good would it do any of us? Besides—more than angry, I am…hurt."

"I'm so sorry I hurt you," Beverly said.

"Are you?" Jean-Luc asked.

"You know I am," Beverly said, a touch of defensiveness coming to her tone.

"Did you know? When you left and refused to answer my communications—to answer anyone's communications. Did you know then, Beverly?" Jean-Luc asked. He knew that she did. He knew that her choice had been made very purposefully.

"It was never because I thought you couldn't be a good father, Jean-Luc," Beverly said. "Ability never came into my thoughts for even a moment."

"Only desire," Jean-Luc said. Beverly's face told him that he was right—that Laris had been right, when she'd told him what she knew about Beverly's feelings. "I told you too many times that I had no desire to be a father. That I didn't care for children. That I was no good with them."

"I knew you were good with children, when you wanted to be," Beverly said. She smiled at him. "When you weren't busy trying to prove that you couldn't tolerate them."

"I'm afraid that…I never wanted to be the same kind of father as my own father," Jean-Luc said. "I never wanted to do that to a child."

"Then—you won't," Beverly said. "That is, if you want to be a father to this child."

Jean-Luc put his fork down. His food, until now, had been largely ignored anyway, so he saw no reason to pretend that ignoring it a moment longer would be any great tragedy. He slid his chair back and, rising from it, gathered his courage up as much as he could. He was grateful that Beverly couldn't hear his rapid pulse. He hoped she had no ability, yet unknown to him, to sense his anxiety. He hoped that his breathing was steady enough not to give him away, and that his knees didn't betray him.

He moved beside her and, possibly against his better judgement, dropped to a knee beside her. She looked at him, wide-eyed and a touch pale. He took her hand, and he kissed it before holding it between both of his own. He looked her in the eyes, and prayed that his voice didn't tremble too much.

"You have given me hours to think about it," Jean-Luc said. "And I'm not criticizing. I'm only saying that I've had time to consider this carefully. Beverly—there is precious little that I want in the world beyond the chance to be a father to this child…the best father that I possibly can be. The only thing that I want more, honestly, is the chance to be a husband—a partner—to its mother. I know that you worry about whether or not you'll be safe—whether or not I can keep you safe. Beverly…I cannot promise you miracles, but I can promise you that I will dedicate myself to making sure that you are loved, and protected, and safe. All of you. I cannot guarantee that I will never work again, but what I can guarantee is that, if you'll permit it to be so, from this moment forward, that work will always…always…come second to the family that I love and treasure beyond words."

Jean-Luc's whole body was trembling, and he was perspiring. He had no doubt that Beverly had to be aware of it. Her eyes visibly puddled with tears. She didn't pull her eyes away from his—until she did.

"Jean-Luc…I…"

He heard the sound in her voice of someone searching for a way to let someone else down gently. He laughed quietly to himself. He squeezed her hand.

"Of course," he said. "How could I forget? As a matter of fact—I didn't forget. Laris."

"Jean-Luc…" Beverly said.

"I have already spoken with Laris, of course. And you may be surprised to know, Beverly, that Romulan joinings—trust bonds, they call them, which are like our marriages—require three partners at their beginning. The rest, from my understanding, is up to the members of each bond to discuss how things will work for those involved. Beverly—I'm not asking you to leave Laris for me. I wouldn't. I'm asking you to share your lives with me, and to allow me to share mine with you…both of you."

A smile started to cross Beverly's lips and a laugh escaped Jean-Luc.

"All four of you, I suppose," he amended.

"Get up, Jean-Luc," Beverly said. "You'll hurt your knees."

His knees were aching, but they were the least of his concerns. Jean-Luc did get up, though, and he was met by Beverly, who got to her feet as well. He pulled her into a hug and she came willingly. He held her tightly and kissed her forehead, unsure of exactly what the rules of a trust bond were.

"I'm sorry that I didn't tell you before," Beverly said.

Jean-Luc drew in a breath and held her more tightly.

"Perhaps…things happened just as they should," Jean-Luc said. "Rather than look toward the past, perhaps we'll simply focus on looking toward the future." He smiled at her, touching her face. "It would seem that our future promises to hold a great deal. May I?" He asked hovering his hand over the swell of her belly that, this time, she'd taken no pains to hide. She smiled at him, nodded, and guided his hand to touch her.

"You can't feel it yet," she said. "But soon, you'll be able to feel it."

"I look forward to it," Jean-Luc said. "Does this mean that…you'll be staying?"

Beverly looked at him. She held his eyes, and he didn't try to look away.

"I love you, Jean-Luc," she said. "I have loved you…for a long time. Longer than was proper, really."

"And you know that I have felt the same," Jean-Luc said.

"But—I do love Laris, too," Beverly said. "And…"

"Let me stop you, Beverly," Jean-Luc said. "I will never ask you to hurt Laris in any way—physically or emotionally. I meant what I said. My desire to spend my life with you includes Laris."

Beverly smiled at him and she nodded. Jean-Luc understood that she was overwhelmed—it was a great deal for her to take in, and she'd had less time to process it than he had.

"For now, that's all I ask," he said, in response. "That's all I ask. Come—let's enjoy our dinner. Perhaps, before the evening is done, our resident Romulan will grace us with her presence."

Beverly laughed quietly, and she squeezed Jean-Luc again, before she joined him at the table to finish the meal that they'd hardly begun.