AN: My apologies that I've been trying to update this one for a month and have failed. I have thrown out I don't know how many versions of this chapter. I'm still not entirely happy with this one, but I'm putting it out there to try to keep moving forward. Admittedly, the message I read a while back has kind of put a little damper on my mojo and my feelings about my writing and characterization. I'm still working my way through those feelings, obviously, since I have really struggled with this.
I'm hoping the next chapter comes easier, though.
And I hope you enjoy this chapter, for what it's worth. If you do, please do let me know.
111
Jean-Luc had barely slept. Of course, he wasn't the only one in the Château that could say that. Beverly, he knew, had been up frequently with William. He'd woken when the baby had cried, and he'd passed his son to her for feeding and whatever other tending he needed. Jean-Luc had recognized, quickly, that he had a great deal to learn about caring for the infant, but the middle of the night had hardly seemed like the best hour for impromptu lessons on parenting.
Jean-Luc wasn't sure what he was feeling, exactly, but he was fully aware that he had more feelings than he had ever been accustomed to handling—especially since he'd always been quite talented at ignoring his feelings entirely.
The night before, their dinner had been somewhat strained.
Laris had practically seemed to have taken a vow of silence. Even when she was spoken to, she responded with so few words that it was easy to believe that Jean-Luc had merely hallucinated her responses to things. She'd cleared away their dishes and cleaned the kitchen, herself, with the insistence that Beverly needed Jean-Luc's support, and she was no stranger to washing a dish and putting it away.
When she'd finished every chore, it seemed, that she could think to do, she'd returned to the bedroom and replicated a number of things for Beverly that Beverly hadn't even requested of Jean-Luc. When she'd been satisfied that Beverly would have what she needed, close at hand, to get through the night—as though Jean-Luc couldn't replicate anything she asked him for at any hour—Laris had bid them all a goodnight and declared that she could be found in her bedroom, if she were needed for anything.
Beverly hadn't believed for a moment that Laris normally occupied the room that she'd once called her own. The relationship between Jean-Luc and Laris hung in the air, mostly undiscussed, but Beverly was making it quite clear that she was no fool. She would let them wait to discuss it however long they liked, but she wasn't going to allow anyone to think that they'd fooled her into believing that there had been nothing between them.
In fact, what had existed between them was making the whole situation exceedingly difficult for Jean-Luc and, he imagined, if both women were willing to be open and honest, for Beverly and Laris, too.
Jean-Luc had always convinced himself that he was a man who didn't need love—even though he'd been in love with Beverly for so long that he could hardly remember not loving her—mostly because something inside of him had believed that he was quite incapable of loving correctly and, therefore, was undeserving of the love that a person like Beverly would give in return for such paltry offerings as he would probably have to give her.
When he'd truly realized that Beverly was gone, Jean-Luc had regretted the stupid decisions that he'd made in his life, and he'd tried to somehow remedy that by opening his heart to Laris—not that it had been difficult to do so. She was a wonderful woman, and to love her, once he'd allowed himself to do so, had been easy.
Now, it seemed, he would be destined to hurt at least one of the women that he loved. And, honestly, he feared there was no way to keep from hurting both of them, at least a little more than he already had while stumbling through dealing with his feelings.
But that was something, like everything else, that they'd all seemed to silently decide would have to keep until the morning.
Beverly had insisted that, if she were displacing Laris, that Laris at least be sure to get whatever she needed from the room that would make her night more comfortable. Laris had simply told Beverly that Romulans didn't have the same attachments to things that humans had—something that Jean-Luc wasn't sure was entirely true—and she'd left the room.
When Beverly had insisted, to Jean-Luc, that he go after Laris and not return until he was certain that she was clean, all her wounds had been healed, and she was settled for the night, Jean-Luc had gone. Laris had allowed him to help her heal her wounds, but she hadn't wanted to talk about anything else. She'd sent him back to Beverly and his son with a smile that made him ache to the very core.
Jean-Luc wasn't feeling very deserving of kindness and smiles.
He'd spent the night sleeping very little and, yet, still feeling as though he wasn't offering enough support to Beverly. She needed to sleep—he knew that—but William needed her. He needed her at a truly primal level. And Jean-Luc could do little more than offer his support, it seemed.
He didn't even feel that he knew how to be a father. And, thanks to Laris, he was only just beginning to learn how to properly be a romantic partner and a life partner.
And, now, it seemed, he couldn't even offer that to Laris any longer or, perhaps, even to Beverly by extension.
"You look like the dead risen, Jean-Luc," Laris said as a way of greeting him when he came into the kitchen.
He laughed to himself.
She looked as though she'd hardly slept, herself, but also like she'd surely spent the night fighting with her pillows and bedclothes for dominance.
"A more sensitive man would be hurt by your observations, Laris," Jean-Luc teased.
"But you are willing to forgive," she said. "Coffee or tea?"
"I am willing to forgive," Jean-Luc said. "Coffee…I think I could use it, especially if it's made as you normally brew it."
"Oh? And what's that supposed to mean?" Laris asked.
Jean-Luc laughed as she poured a cup of coffee for him, and one for herself, and joined him at the breakfast table.
"Your coffee is every bit as strong as any Romulan warrior," Jean-Luc teased.
"Worthy of the honor of being coffee prepared by a Romulan woman," Laris teased.
She closed her eyes and smelled her coffee, holding it in her hands as though she were warming her hands. She probably was warming them. She was always cold and, despite the presence of the almost permanent cardigan that she wore, she was rather lightly dressed for her normal amblings around the house.
Laris drank her first sips of coffee like it was a religious experience. Jean-Luc enjoyed watching her, but some part of him felt well and truly guilty for doing so—it reminded him too much of other times that he'd enjoyed watching her face when she was seized by some ecstasy, and he wasn't sure, any longer, if he was allowed to even think about such things.
He was conflicted because, truly, he didn't know what he was allowed, or not allowed, to do or think for either Laris or Beverly. He felt very much like a man who no longer knew where he belonged.
The coffee, at least, was hot, and strong, and good. He drank it, focusing on the possibly magical and imaginary qualities he might attribute to it—a brew that could wake him, despite his having barely slept, and clear his foggy mind.
Anything that could make his situation clearer would have to be truly magical, indeed.
"Does your Beverly take coffee, Jean-Luc? And croissants as you said she once did?" Laris asked.
"She was sleeping," Jean-Luc said. "I didn't ask her what she wants, but…I imagine that she can't have changed that much in so little time."
"Oh—I don't know," Laris said, shrugging one shoulder half-heartedly. "Torture has a way of changing you."
"The giving or the receiving?" Jean-Luc asked.
"Both," Laris said, matter-of-factly.
Once upon a time, Jean-Luc might have never imagined having such conversations so casually over the breakfast table, but he had changed, himself, in many ways since Laris had come to live with him after the destruction of Romulus.
"I'm sure she'll appreciate any effort," Jean-Luc said. "I can't imagine that would ever change about her."
"No," Laris said with a smile. "Surely it wouldn't. I could tell that already. I'll prepare a tray for her. Does she take butter and jam?"
Jean-Luc simply nodded and Laris nodded her understanding.
"Laris—we've got a lot to talk about," Jean-Luc said.
"Not as much as you might think, perhaps," Laris countered.
"What does that mean, exactly, Laris?" Jean-Luc asked. "Truth—you owe me that…with our relationship, and all…especially after all the lies…"
"I never lied," she said quickly, almost sounding offended.
"You never told me you were doing…what exactly were you doing, Laris? What else have you done before you brought Beverly back from a Dominion torture facility?"
"Just a few things here and there, Jean-Luc," Laris said. "It hardly matters…"
"It matters a great deal," Jean-Luc said. "You could have been killed!"
"And if I had been?" She countered.
"I would have thought you went out for a walk to clear your mind," Jean-Luc said. "I would have thought you were…feeling emotional about Romulus, or Zhaban…that you were feeling concerned about the Tal Shiar. And you never would have come back, Laris. I would have been left thinking…"
"Thinking?" She pressed, when he stopped.
"The worst," he said. "The worst…whatever that might have been…"
"Well—there's no need to think the worst," Laris said with a smile. "I'm not out there being dismembered by the Tal Shiar. I'm right here…and I'm about to assemble a nice tray for Beverly."
"And then?" Jean-Luc asked.
"I don't know," Laris said. "Let's just…see what the day holds, shall we?"
111
"I'll bring you some more diapers for William," Laris said. "What could you use, to make you more comfortable? Another of those cooling pads? The one from this morning can hardly be doing you any good now…and a blanket?"
"The only thing I need," Beverly said, "is for you to sit still and talk to me."
For what felt like a very long moment—made longer by the fact that Jean-Luc's brain felt no less fuzzy from Laris's coffee that morning, but it did feel a great deal more wired—the two women looked at each other: Beverly from the bed, and Laris from the spot where she was gathering things for recycling.
Beverly sighed.
"OK—one of those ice packs would be nice…and…the spray…"
"The same as last night?" Laris asked.
"You know," Jean-Luc interrupted, "I could replicate you anything you liked, if you asked for it."
"I've got it," Laris said. "And I'll see about getting you something for lunch, too. You'll be hungry soon, I'm sure. Would you like a little more formula to help supplement for William until your milk comes in? The little one rested better after the last bottle."
"Two ounces?" Beverly said. "When he wakes."
"Two it is," Laris said. "I'll bring it to you whenever you want it."
She went about recycling what she'd gathered and replicating the requests that Beverly made. Jean-Luc found one of the blankets that Laris had promised Beverly, and he covered her with it, hoping it might offer her some comfort. She thanked him for it far more profusely than he really thought was necessary for such an effort, but he appreciated it, nonetheless.
"Here you are," Laris said, passing things to Beverly and arranging other things where she could reach them easily. "Do you need help or…?"
"Thank you," Beverly said with a laugh. "But—I'll reserve what's left of my dignity while I can."
"As you like," Laris said.
She moved to the bassinet and peered in. She smiled at the sleeping infant. She didn't dare to touch him—none of them did, since he was sleeping at the moment—but Jean-Luc could sense that she practically ached to do so.
"Do you think, when he wakes, that you could give him the formula for me?" Beverly asked. "To supplement after I let him nurse for a bit?"
"Jean-Luc would probably like to feed his son," Laris said. "Besides—I'm sure I'll be busy."
"I'm sure you will," Beverly said.
Jean-Luc sensed something in Beverly's tone that made his muscles tense.
Everything—and it truly felt like the proverbial weight of the world—hung in the air between them all, and nobody seemed quite sure of how to get it all out and face it.
Something on Laris's person chimed, and she reached for it.
"What is that?" Jean-Luc asked, as she produced it from the pocket of her cardigan. She read the small screen that fit in her palm.
"A notification that someone is here to get the ship," Laris said. "I'll need to talk to them. Do you mind if they beam in for just a moment?"
"I'll go unlock the transporter," Jean-Luc said. "You invite your friend. I dare say, I'd like to know more about the whole thing anyway."