AN: I have had so much going on in life right now, that I haven't written much and I have gotten quite rusty. Still, I wanted to do something light and easy to just get things going a little again.
I own nothing from Star Trek.
I hope you enjoy! If you do, please do let me know!
111
Jean-Luc frowned at the replicated Christmas tree. The replicator options had advertised that it was "perfect for the confined spaces of Starship cabins," and that it was the perfect tabletop decoration. It was a few feet tall and, despite his absolute best efforts, it seemed eternally inclined to lean to the left.
"It will look better with the decorations," Jean-Luc said, out loud, to nobody but himself. If he heard it—if the words were actually spoken aloud—perhaps something inside of him might come to believe them.
Jean-Luc moved to the pile of other items that he'd replicated. He sorted through them. Many of them had, admittedly, been replicated in something of an impulsive rush to get everything that would be necessary to transform the whole of the captain's quarters into a Christmas dreamworld. The fact that Jean-Luc had never, not in the whole of his life, been responsible for decorating for Christmas, meant that he felt quite in over his head. At most, he'd put a few things here or there—helping Robert and his mother to arrange items on their tree.
Jean-Luc was supposed to have R and R for the holiday. He had put in for the break well in advance, and his request had been accepted with the normal "disclaimer" that Starfleet always seemed to attach to such things, especially when it came to their high-ranking officers. He could have the time off, as long as there was nothing that came up which would require his presence. If that were the case, he could have what Starfleet called "modified" time off, in which case he would get what breaks he could, while also fulfilling his duty.
Jean-Luc had never cared about time off. In fact, the few vacations that he'd taken since joining Starfleet had practically been forced upon him when someone decided that he had to have a break for a rarely-quoted regulation, precaution, or what-have-you.
If Starfleet had told him before, as they told him this year, that the Enterprise was needed to help handle a situation on the somewhat distant planet of Benami, and that meant that his vacation was going to have to be pushed to another time, he wouldn't have so much as cared the slightest bit.
That was before, however.
Before, Jean-Luc Picard was a confirmed bachelor who did his best to avoid family gatherings—or most gatherings, honestly. He was exploring the reasons for that in therapy, now—an idea not entirely his own, but he wasn't too against it now that the whole process was underway. Counselor Deanna Troi, at least, was gentle with her truths, and entirely discreet. Somewhat related to some of the issues that may have had Jean-Luc avoiding all possible gatherings, perhaps, was the fact that he'd also counted holidays as nothing more than something that other people did, at best, and a complete waste of time, at worst.
That was before, of course. All of that was before.
Now, things were very different.
Now, Jean-Luc was talking to Counselor Troi about topics that he never would have entertained before—the difficult ones that made him nearly unbearably uncomfortable. Now, he was requesting R and R for the holidays, and he was making plans that, when they were interrupted as these had been, he felt genuine disappointment.
The only thing that had changed, perhaps, was the greatest thing of all.
Jean-Luc Picard had opened his heart. He had faced his fear—the greatest that he had, perhaps, until now, when new fears had cropped up where the other had been—and he had confessed his love to the one woman who had ever held his heart.
And she had surprised him by not rejecting him, as his fear had told him she would.
No. Beverly Crusher hadn't rejected Jean-Luc. In fact, she'd accepted his truly horrible attempts to be a romantic, at least at first, and she'd dated him, for an admittedly short amount of time, as best as their roles aboard the Enterprise allowed. She had forgiven him for things that he'd never even had the words for which to ask forgiveness.
She had kissed him every time he'd craved it. She had held him so that he knew what it felt like to feel safe, and warm, and comfortable again—loved in a way that he hadn't felt in so long that he'd forgotten that such a feeling was possible. She had encouraged him when he'd confessed to her that he was open to exploring more with Deanna than he'd ever explored with her before—things, he hoped, that would make him a better partner for Beverly, and someone more worthy of her love. And she had assured him that, no matter what, he was worthy of her—and she loved every aspect of him. She always would.
She had accepted his proposal—despite the fact that, sometimes, at night, he still laid awake and thought about how it should have been better and she'd deserved more. She had taught him to slow dance with confidence. She'd said "I do," in a simple ceremony with all the senior officers present, and anyone else who wanted to join crowding in for the vows and reception, and she'd danced with him in front of all of them.
It had been the greatest day of his life. It had been the moment that he'd truly felt like the luckiest man in all the universe.
And, then, she had come "home" with him. She had made a home for him out of the quarters where he had lived aboard the Enterprise. The living quarters that, before, had been simply a functional space for rest and relaxation, had become so much more. Jean-Luc's heart skipped a beat, now, nearly every time he neared those doors. Simply knowing Beverly would be there and, if she wasn't there at the moment, at least she would return there, meant everything to Jean-Luc.
Beverly meant everything to Jean-Luc.
His old greatest fear of rejection, especially by her and especially after making himself vulnerable before her, was gone. She saw him at his most vulnerable, and she loved him. She looked tenderly upon the ugliest parts of him, and she smoothed soft fingers over his most ragged edges, soothing hurts that had he'd carried for so long that he'd almost believed them to be a part of him.
Jean-Luc no longer feared what he'd feared before.
Now, his greatest fear—the fear that threatened to suffocate him, if he entertained it for even a moment, and which took his breath away at least once a day, even as Deanna worked to help him with controlling that deeply felt fear—was that he might lose Beverly.
To lose his life, instead, would be a blessing.
Beverly's happiness, now, was Jean-Luc's happiness.
What mattered to Beverly, mattered to Jean-Luc. What she wanted, he wanted. Her desires were his own. He would have given her the world, had it only been his to give. She wouldn't have asked him for it, since she didn't desire such things, but he would have given it to her, if he could.
He was, of course, merely a man, but he dedicated himself to giving her what he could, despite the fact that she truly hardly made any demands of him at all.
So, of course, when she'd expressed a desire to take R and R together, and to take Wesley to Caldos for Christmas, to celebrate a heartwarming family holiday with her Nana that Jean-Luc could only imagine would be worth of a holofilm, Jean-Luc hadn't hesitated to file his request for time off.
All of them had been approved.
Wesley, however, was the only one who was currently on Caldos, hopefully enjoying the best holiday possible with his Nana.
When they'd received the news about Benami, and about the postponement of their leave time, Beverly had insisted that Wesley go on to Caldos. He wasn't vital to the work on Benami, and she said that he ought to enjoy his Christmas. Jean-Luc had urged her to go, as well, saying that there was medical personnel that could handle what was needed there, but Beverly had refused.
If Jean-Luc was going to spend Christmas aboard the Enterprise, in orbit around Benami, then so was Beverly.
Her sadness had absolutely broken Jean-Luc's heart, despite the fact that she'd done everything in her power to hide her feelings from him. She'd put on a great show of things. She'd smiled. She'd reassured him that it didn't matter. She'd insisted that she was happy that Wesley, at least, would be with Nana, and that she would be happy to spend her Christmas with Jean-Luc, no matter where it was or what it looked like. She'd promised him that, whenever they did have leave, they would have a nice vacation in Caldos—no matter what they did there.
Jean-Luc knew that all of what she had said was true about being with him and enjoying a trip to Caldos any time, but he also knew that she'd been so looking forward to this picturesque family Christmas, that her heart was broken.
And, so, while she was working her duty shift on the surface of Benami—one of the few shifts where Jean-Luc had been slotted time to rest, according to their regulations—Jean-Luc was doing his best to arrange a surprise for her. This little celebration would, in no way, make up for Christmas in Caldos with her Nana, but he hoped it would at least be something of a balm to Beverly's broken heart.
"You won't do much good, if you can't be bothered to stand more at attention than that," he muttered to the little lopsided tree that only seemed more determined to lean to the side as he piled on the perhaps excessive decorations that he'd replicated for it. "Acceptable, but disappointing," he added, when the sad little tree supported the star, but only barely, and bowed a little more deeply.
"Can't be fixed," Jean-Luc accepted, moving on and trying to arrange the treasures that he'd replicated. The final item left to him to place was the present that he'd replicated and wrapped—none too skillfully, admittedly. He placed the present next to the little crooked tree and looked around.
Jean-Luc frowned as he surveyed his handiwork.
"This is liable to make Beverly more depressed," he admitted to himself. "Still—it's the thought that counts, and I've never counted on that more than I am now."
He laughed to himself and went about preparing a few additional touches—some Christmas cookies to share and a couple of candy canes to decorate the mugs of hot chocolate that he would replicate, as soon as she arrived home, to welcome her and set the tone for the evening.
It wasn't much, and it certainly didn't compare to a warm, welcoming family Christmas with Nana and Wesley, but it was, Jean-Luc hoped, something more than the simple, quiet, sad holiday that Beverly seemed to expect.
Jean-Luc wanted more than that for their first Christmas together—for both of them.
"Captain Picard to Dr. Picard," Jean-Luc said, touching his combadge when things were put away.
"Doctor Picard," came back Beverly's audibly tired voice. Jean-Luc smiled just to hear her.
"Your shift ended nearly an hour ago, Doctor," Jean-Luc said. "Has anyone come to relieve you of duty?"
"I lingered a bit longer," Beverly said.
"I imagined that was the case," Jean-Luc said. "Is there any particular reason?"
"Nothing urgent," Beverly said. "And I know that's what you mean. I'm—on my way now. I'm transporting up from the surface now, Jean-Luc…"
"Will you stop by sickbay or…" Jean-Luc hesitated. He didn't know how many people would hear them. Before, that would have stopped him from saying or doing anything that showed any affection at all. Before, he would have avoided very nearly anything that made him even appear human.
That was before, and none of that nonsense of the past mattered now.
"Will you stop by sickbay, Beverly," he repeated, hoping she credited his delay to some problem with the communications that could be, at times, a touch spotty between the ship and the surface of Benami, "or will you come straight home…to me?"
He heard her smile. He practically felt it across the distance. His heart pounded in his chest, and he smiled in response.
"I'm coming directly home, Jean-Luc…and I'm exhausted," Beverly said.
"You will have the evening to rest, and I believe that neither you nor I have a duty shift tomorrow," Jean-Luc said.
"Thank goodness for that," Beverly said. "Everything is stable here, for now. I think my team will be able to handle it. I'm transporting up now, Jean-Luc…I'm in the next group. Dr. Picard out."
Jean-Luc immediately replicated the hot chocolate that he intended to have in hand when he greeted her at the door. He took one last sweeping look around their quarters at his somewhat sad attempt to make their little home look like some sort of welcoming holiday dream.
He frowned at it, eyed the little tree with something that he hoped was some sort of telepathic threat against tipping over entirely, and turned back to the door. The moment that it opened, and Beverly stepped inside, he met her with hot chocolate.
"What's all this?" She said, her eyes growing disproportionally large, given the quality of his decorating.
"This is Christmas Eve, Beverly…or have you forgotten?" Jean-Luc asked.
Her smile—that smile—was worth everything. It was worth any effort he might have put into the evening. It was worth truly anything and everything to him. He would have done anything to earn it. She came directly for a kiss that he already had waiting on his lips for her.
He closed his eyes, and he savored the kiss that passed between them.
"Am I to assume, then, that…you are not entirely disappointed with my vision for the holiday?" Jean-Luc teased when the kiss broke. She laughed in her throat, her face still close to his.
"Jean-Luc…it's wonderful," Beverly assured him, sincerely. "Really…it's the best thing that I could ask for."
"I know that it's not Caldos," Jean-Luc said. "And I know you had your heart set on spending the holiday with your Nana…"
"There will be a trip to Caldos," Beverly said, "and some time spent with Nana."
"Very soon," Jean-Luc assured her, letting the hand not holding his hot chocolate affectionately trail over his wife's body. "I promise. As soon as we're given leave."
She leaned and kissed him again.
"Jean-Luc…this is the best Christmas that I could ask for. It's the first one with my husband…and the first time that he did something so…so wonderful…so…thoughtful!"
Jean-Luc laughed, recognizing her final word as something they'd discussed regarding his conversations with Deanna Troi, as of late, and his true desire to become a more thoughtful, observant, and considerate husband…and lover…for his wife.
"I remembered a present," he said.
"A present on top of everything," Beverly teased. He gently tugged her to the table where she could see it resting by the tree. "And it has a bow."
"What did you expect?"
"Oh—I don't know, maybe some awful line about my present being in the bedroom," Beverly said, laughing quietly.
"You can, of course, always have what you want there," Jean-Luc said. "I thought tonight, however, you might simply like a shower and, perhaps…a massage?"
"A massage?" She asked, raising her eyebrows.
"Only a massage…unless, of course…"
Beverly laughed.
"Let's start with the shower," she said, "and see how things go from there. But—first…I'd like for you to open your present, Jean-Luc."
"It's only Christmas Eve," Jean-Luc said. Beverly's face fell slightly at his protest. "I would love to open it…if you'd like for me to have it."
"Wait right here," Beverly said. "It's in the bedroom…"
Jean-Luc laughed.
"Now who has horrible lines?" He teased. She gave him a look and he laughed again. "Go—I'll wait here. Give me your mug."
She passed him the mug and practically jogged to the bedroom. She was excited, and he wouldn't make her wait a moment more to give him his gift. He wasn't really a stickler for tradition anyway, since holidays had always meant relatively little to him and, as far as he was concerned, they could start their own traditions. When Beverly returned, she offered him a small box that she pulled back for a moment after taking her hot chocolate back from Jean-Luc.
"Before you open this…I just want to say that…I really, really hope you like it," Beverly said.
"No matter what it is," Jean-Luc said, "I will treasure it always, because it's from you, and it's the first gift that you've given me as my wife."
Her face blushed slightly pink. She gave him the box, and he could practically sense her anticipation buzzing in the air around him. He determined to look happy about the gift, no matter what she'd given him. There was once a skit he'd seen in some old Earth programming where someone was consistently presented with a dirty sock when they believed they'd be receiving something wonderful. Even if the little box held a dirty sock, Jean-Luc was determined to make it appear that he had never wanted anything more in his life. All that mattered, after all, was Beverly's happiness. If she was happy, so would he be.
He put his mug on the table, tore open the packaging, and pried the little lid off the box. He was met with something inside—a handkerchief, perhaps—wrapped in tissue paper. He pulled the cloth free from the little box and it unfolded itself, revealing one of the smallest of garments meant for an infant.
"Merry Christmas, Papa," was festively emblazoned on the little garment.
For a moment, Jean-Luc stared at the garment. Then, he felt the tightening sensation in his chest. Beverly stood beside him, studying him. He willed himself to relax. He digested the understanding of what he was holding, and what it meant, and he pushed aside the knee-jerk fear that would have driven him before.
That was before. Now, he was happily married to Beverly. He could see himself growing old with her. He could truly imagine dying in her arms.
And he would happily be the father to her children. He would gladly see her be the mother of his.
They had only somewhat talked about the possibility and almost in passing—a dismissive sort of conversation where he hadn't really taken it very seriously. Some part of him had always imagined that he would never have a family—that was for others and not for him. Some part of him had imagined that it was impossible and, so, when Beverly had brought it up, and they'd discussed everything involved—like stopping the inhibitors that they took to prevent such a thing—Jean-Luc had still imagined that it was practically impossible, and almost something like discussing an entirely make-believe scenario.
He couldn't be happier that he'd been a fool.
This was the first of many, perhaps, that would be born to them, or maybe it was the only one. Either way, it was a blessing.
"Jean-Luc…" Beverly said softly. He understood everything from her tone.
"I did not imagine this—not even for a moment," Jean-Luc said. "I would have said it was impossible. And, yet—you have given me the greatest gift that I could ever receive."
"Do you really mean that?" Beverly asked.
"My love, I have never meant anything more," Jean-Luc said, "except, perhaps, when I promised you my love for all eternity."
Her face blushed with color again, and she leaned into him for another kiss. He took the mug from her hand and placed it on the table next to his, to avoid a mess for them to clean up, and he gathered her into his arms to hold her while they took their time exchanging long and lingering kisses.
When the kiss broke, warmed by the feeling of her still in his arms, Jean-Luc smiled and laughed low in his throat.
"I'm afraid nothing that I could get you for Christmas could ever compare," he said.
"Oh—we'll just say that you gave me my present early," Beverly said.
"How early, exactly?" Jean-Luc asked.
"Seven weeks," Beverly said. "Really—we shouldn't tell too many others…there are so many things that are simply unknown at this point, Jean-Luc…"
"Beverly," Jean-Luc said, massing his fingertips into her skin as he held her, and speaking to interrupt her so that she couldn't upset herself with all the thoughts that were making her brow begin to crease—he didn't want anything but happiness for her…and for both of them…tonight. "For the moment, we know all we need to know. It's Christmas Eve—our first together—and, on top of the immensely wonderful gift of…of our lives together, we have been given this most wonderful gift to share. That's all we need to know for now."
She smiled at him. She gently nodded her acceptance. She leaned and kissed him again, softly. A shiver ran through him at the sheer pleasure of it.
"Take a shower with me?" She asked. "And then—let's talk about that massage?"
Jean-Luc couldn't help but smile.
"And here I thought you'd already given me my present," he teased. She laughed and he winked at her before taking her hand and leading her back toward the bedroom.
"After our shower…maybe I'll replicate another little stocking to go with ours," Jean-Luc said, squeezing Beverly's fingers. "What do you think?"
"I think that's an absolutely wonderful idea, Papa," Beverly said.
Jean-Luc felt his whole body grow warm, in a wonderful way, at her tentative use of the new title—so strange, still, on her tongue and his. He liked the sound of it. He liked everything about his life now. Whatever happened, and despite the lopsided nature of their little table-top tree, Jean-Luc was already counting it as the merriest first Christmas together that the fairly newly-minted Picard family could possibly have, and he was sure that the rest of his little family would agree.