AN: This is a part of my little personal challenge to rewrite every episode of TNG as a babyfic/pregnancy fic/etc. It's just for entertainment value, and shouldn't be taken too seriously.
I own nothing from Star Trek.
I hope you enjoy! If you do, please let me know!
111
"Jean-Luc…how could you agree to that?" Beverly asked.
Jean-Luc didn't need any help deciphering her tone or the line that appeared between her brows. All things considered, he had to admit that she was calmer than he had even expected she would be. He'd prepared for more upset than she was currently showing.
Of course, the night was young, as they say.
"Now, Beverly," he said, "hear me out."
"Hear you out?" She responded quickly and sharply. "Jean-Luc, we're talking about serving as a…as a cha'Dich. We're talking about fighting a Klingon to the death!"
Jean-Luc gently and somewhat gingerly approached his wife. He couldn't help but smile at her, though he tried to swallow it back, lest she misunderstand it in some way and it upset her more, because he honestly felt less afraid of most Klingons than he felt of her when she was truly angry.
They hadn't been married long. They'd married eleven months ago on shore leave, following what some might call a short courtship, but few knew that Jean-Luc had loved Beverly since before she'd even married Jack Crusher. She had loved Jean-Luc, too, in some capacity. It had been the love that each of them felt for Jack that had kept their relationship from becoming something even back then. It had also been their love for Jack that had kept them from starting their current relationship any earlier than they had.
They had finally accepted, though, that Jack was gone. No amount of denying their love for one another was going to bring him back, and Jack had loved both of them, so it was likely that he would have wanted them to be happy.
They were happy. They were overwhelmingly happy.
Jean-Luc had always feared marriage and family. He'd always feared that, somehow, he wouldn't be cut out for any of it. He'd feared he would fall short of the mark or, committing to sharing his life with someone, he would find that he felt suffocated and ended up behaving in ways that didn't make him proud of himself.
Jean-Luc was happy with commitment now, though. He meant his promises to stay with Beverly forever. In fact, sometimes, he got a feeling in the pit of his stomach like a hot stone had settled there, when he thought about the fact that forever, really, wasn't enough time to love her.
And, now, they were to have a child—a son. The first of many, they said.
Their son was twenty-six weeks old, and he was healthy and growing well. Jean-Luc had seen him during Beverly's scans, and he had two holo images of him from those scans that, from time to time, he admired in his ready room between things he needed to accomplish. Their son was active, and Jean-Luc could feel him. Beverly said he would get stronger, and his little kicks and rolls would become even more obvious, but Jean-Luc was just as happy with what he could feel now as he thought he could ever be with anything he might imagine.
Jean-Luc reached his hands out toward Beverly when he'd closed the small space between them. She stood rigidly with her arms crossed across her chest and just above her belly. Her face was set in anger, and her eyes looked at him like their line of sight might bore straight through him, but he could sense that her anger was hiding another emotion underneath—an emotion that made her feel much more vulnerable and, therefore, was one that she preferred to keep hidden when possible.
Jean-Luc caught the tops of her arms and massaged them to soothe her.
"There, now…Beverly," he soothed, careful to keep his voice calm and even so that she wouldn't think that he was patronizing her in any way. "Worf needs a cha'Dich, and with his brother incapacitated, he asked me to serve in that role."
"And that's when you say no, Jean-Luc," Beverly said. "That's when you say…that…that you would love to do that for him, but you have other obligations. You have a wife. You have a stepson. You have a baby on the way, Jean-Luc!"
"Would you have really wanted me to say that to Worf?" He asked, already knowing her answer.
She stared at him for what seemed a long while, and he didn't look away from her or rush her. He gave her time to come to terms with her answer.
She sighed and dropped her arms. She pulled away from him, and he didn't stop her from going in any direction she felt she needed to go. She walked away for a moment—a few steps—and then she turned back to look at him.
"It's bad enough that I had to raise Wesley on my own," Beverly said. "That—he barely knew his father. He barely remembers him. Now, Jean-Luc, you're asking me to face the fact that our son might never even know his father?"
Jean-Luc softened.
"We're in Starfleet," Jean-Luc said. "I'm a captain. We always knew—you always knew, Beverly—that loss is a possibility. It always has been."
"This is different," Beverly said. "This feels different, Jean-Luc. This isn't an order. You have a choice."
"Do you want me to exercise that choice, then, in the way that I believe you're suggesting?" Jean-Luc asked. "Do you want to me to go and find Worf and tell him that he has to find another cha'Dich? Because if that's what you want, Beverly—what you truly want—then, I will do that for you."
"I don't want you to do me any favors, Jean-Luc," she said with a burst of laughter that knew wasn't at all sincere.
"That wasn't what I meant," he said. "And I think you know that, Beverly."
She frowned, now.
"I know you have to do this," she said. "Worf doesn't have anyone, and he…he needs you to do this. It's only…our son needs you, too, Jean-Luc. I need you. And I'm not ready to lose you."
Jean-Luc pursued her, now, walking toward her, once more, to be right in front of her. He reached a hand out and delicately touched her face. She didn't flinch or pull away from him. Instead, she leaned into his hand and into his affection.
"Beverly…" He said, savoring the simple taste of her name on his tongue. She drew in a deep breath and closed her eyes before letting it out. "I love you. I know that you are…afraid. And, for that, I am truly sorry. It is never my wish to hurt you in any way. If I could, I would go through my entire life—and I would hope for it to be a very long life—without causing you even a moment of discomfort."
She opened her eyes.
"But love doesn't work that way," she said. "Life doesn't work that way." She sighed. "You have to do this, Jean-Luc. I'll keep looking for something to help Worf…to help you. It's extra personal now. I'll find something."
"I'm sure you will," Jean-Luc said, smiling at her. "But—you will also rest, and eat, and take care of yourself and our son. And, while you're at it, you might stop signing his father's death certificate." Jean-Luc delicately placed his hand on her belly, and she covered it with her own. He shifted his fingers this way and that, gently seeking out some sign that their son was awake.
"He's not moving," Beverly said gently.
"He's likely afraid," Jean-Luc said. "He's asking himself what great sin must his father have committed to upset his mother so much."
"Jean-Luc," Beverly said. She didn't say anything else, though. Instead, she simply caught his face with her hands and leaned forward to kiss him. He met her and gave her the kiss that she requested, making sure to make it everything that she might want it to be.
When it broke, she was looking at him intently. He touched her face again and brushed her hair back, tucking it behind her ear.
"You look at me as though you're trying to commit my every feature to memory," Jean-Luc said. She frowned. "Why are you so sure of our failure? Do you not have more faith than that in the abilities of your husband?"
"Worf already said the fight won't be fair," Beverly said.
Jean-Luc nodded his understanding. He'd talked to Worf already.
"And, we are talking about Klingons," Beverly added.
"I could take that a number of ways," Jean-Luc said. "The only way that I'll choose to take it, however, is as an expression of your concern for the man you love. Beverly, I tell you this—no matter what kind of determination they employ when they are fighting, it is still nothing compared to the determination that I will have driving me."
"To help Worf?" Beverly asked.
Jean-Luc smiled at her.
"To get back to my wife and son," Jean-Luc said. "I will be back, Beverly. I'm not going anywhere—not permanently. I will be back to see him born. I will hold your hand as he comes into the world." He laughed to himself. "Just as I did with Wesley," he added, recalling the fact that he'd been there when Wesley had been born and, thanks to some complications of sorts, he'd ended up offering comfort to Beverly as she'd delivered Wesley into the world. "Our son will know his father. And, with any luck, he will be happy that he does."
Beverly smiled at him.
"You are already a wonderful father, Jean-Luc," she said. "You'll be the best father our son could possibly have."
"I shall remain optimistic that your predictions come true," Jean-Luc said. "And I shall be happy to accept your assistance in making sure that I am doing my part to fulfill them."
"You just make it back to me," she said. "We'll handle the rest."
Jean-Luc pulled her to him and kissed her again. This time, he kissed her with all the passion that he felt. He kissed her like it might be their last kiss. He did believe that he'd be back, but if he didn't return, he at least wanted to leave her with one last good kiss—and he wanted to take a kiss such as that into battle with him, if it should come to that. He rubbed his hand against her belly when the kiss broke and she went on her own search with her fingers—stirring their son up in some way that she always seemed to manage when it was important to her that he move. She placed his hand in the right place for him to feel the gentle movement.
"He's wishing Papa good luck," Beverly said.
Jean-Luc smiled and leaned down.
"Take good care of your Mama while I'm gone," he said, before pressing a kiss to the cloth of her uniform that covered her belly. "I will be back, Beverly," he assured her, standing.
"We'll be counting on it," Beverly assured him.
111
Beverly had found out the existence of Kahlest. She'd even found out the survivor's location. She'd given that information to Jean-Luc, and all she could do, now, was hope that it helped him and Worf. All she could do was hope for the best.
No news was good news—that's what they had told her for most of her life.
She had rarely found that to be true, though. The thing about no news was that, just as it came before good news, it also came before bad news. The only news that was good news, to Beverly, was good news itself.
Beverly had assured Wesley that she was fine. She'd sent him to bed so that he stopped feeling the need to check on her. She'd put on her best performance of being a woman who wasn't at all worried about the fate of her husband and the father and stepfather of her children. She'd done her best to reassure Wesley that this challenge was one that would likely be called off as soon as Kahlest had been located, and if it wasn't, it was a challenge that Jean-Luc and Worf would win.
She had put as much of her attention and energy as possible into making sure that Worf's brother would survive and, more than that, that he would heal entirely, and then she'd left sickbay when her duty shift was done.
Now, she waited alone in her quarters for any word from the planet below, and she tried to predict exactly when was a reasonable time to expect some sort of word about what was happening.
Finally, after one last check-in with Will, who was pulling a slightly extended duty shift, to see if anything had been reported yet, she'd gone to the bedroom and gotten ready for bed, hoping to somehow sleep through what she predicted to be the final hour or so of her "widow's watch."
She hadn't been able to sleep, though, and she'd finally just lain in bed, dozing what little she could and talking to her unborn child.
"Your Daddy is going to make it back," she said. "There is nothing he wants more than to see you born. He wants to hold you. He wants to know you." She smiled to herself and closed her eyes, imagining it. "He wants to…learn to change your diapers, and feed you baby food when you're big enough, and rock you to sleep. He wants to be there for your little Halloween costumes, and your first Christmas, and your birthday parties. He wants to be there for you through everything…"
"He most certainly does."
Beverly had almost felt like she was having a heart attack as her body jumped violently at the unexpected sound in the otherwise silent room, where silence was her expectation.
She opened her eyes and Jean-Luc gave the low-voiced command to the computer to bring the lights up just enough that they could see each other.
Beverly scrambled out of bed and rushed around to him, and he caught her and held her close to him in a warm embrace.
"I didn't want to wake you," he said. "Will said you'd gone to bed, and I thought I could let myself in quietly."
"Oh—I wasn't sleeping," Beverly said, squeezing him, glad to feel his body against hers again.
"Yes, I suppose I know that now…" Jean-Luc said. "Forgive me, Beverly…are you cold?"
"I'm fine," she breathed out.
"You're trembling," Jean-Luc said. "Adrenaline. Come—let's go back to the bed. I wouldn't dare risk you or our son getting hurt over nothing."
"Oh—Jean-Luc!" Beverly said. She pulled out of the embrace and brought their lips together in a fast, hard kiss. She'd ached for that kiss while he was gone. She'd feared that she'd never have another of his kisses, and she'd scolded herself for not memorizing each one they'd shared.
She'd tried to prepare herself to grieve him, and she'd realized that she could never be prepared for that. She didn't want to be prepared for that.
And, at least for some time, she was spared.
"If I get that kind of welcome every time I return home," Jean-Luc said when the kiss broke, "I may have to be part of Klingon challenges more often."
"Don't you say that!" She demanded.
"I was only teasing," Jean-Luc said.
"What happened? You don't look like you've been in any kind of fight," Beverly said.
"None at all," he said. "I suppose you could say that everything was settled peacefully and, yet, in a very Klingon manner. Come on, Beverly…come to bed. I'll tell you all about it, but for now…let's all rest."
"You know," Beverly said, "adrenaline and all, Jean-Luc…I'm still not feeling quite like I can sleep."
"No?" He asked. "Perhaps you'd like me to replicate you some warm milk and honey?"
"I was thinking more along the lines of…I could show you a real welcome home," Beverly said.
Even in the dim light, Jean-Luc blushed lightly as he smiled.
"I really will have to go off fighting in Klingon challenges more often," he teased.
"Jean-Luc," Beverly warned. "If you make me angry…I may just have a sudden headache from all the frustration."
"Well—we wouldn't want that at all," Jean-Luc said. "Still, I better give you a neck rub just to be sure. Come on, Beverly. Let's go to bed. Let me spoil you just a little…and then I'll gladly allow you to return the favor."