AN: Here we are, another chapter!
I hope you enjoy! If you do, please do let me know!
111
Jean-Luc put his children to bed.
He saw their mother—Beverly, his wife, and his love—kiss them goodnight. He saw her smile, and the promise in her eyes as she retreated to their bedroom. Then, he took his children and he read them stories, and he held them. He tucked them in, carefully and lovingly tucking blankets around them, and he kissed them goodnight.
He relished every moment of being their Papa—and of being a "good" Papa—with a slightly nagging fear that this would somehow fade and he would lose it so soon after coming to know it.
When the last of his children was sleeping, tucked away for the sweet dreams he was sure the Nexus must always provide them, Jean-Luc headed toward the bedroom where Beverly waited for him. The bedroom where all of their beautiful children must have been conceived.
And, though his stomach fluttered when he thought about what was to come, he felt a certain relief at the fact that this was the Nexus.
He was already "good" here. Everything about him was good. He was a good father. He was a good husband.
He was, even, a good lover. Exactly the lover that Beverly would desire. He was a lover that knew how to please her in every way—he must be.
Because he desired to be that—he desired to be all of that, and more, for Beverly.
There was an ache in his chest at the thought that this Beverly wasn't the real Beverly. She wasn't the one that he had known and left behind. She wasn't the Beverly whom he had first loved. She was a facsimile, of sorts.
Still, he accepted that she was as close as he was likely to ever get to the real thing. And he did want this so…he wanted all of it. The Nexus was going to let him have this, and he would have to accept that there were simply limitations to everything.
He could, at the very least, be everything for this Beverly.
When the door to their bedroom was closed, and they were alone together, Jean-Luc found that his pulse was racing. Beverly made her way to the bed. She shrugged out of her robe, tossing it over a chair near the bed, and then she smoothed the pajamas she was wearing and looked at Jean-Luc with what he might have believed was a touch of anxiety—except he was sure that a shadow couldn't be nervous about being with the man she must believe herself to have made love to so many times.
Jean-Luc smiled at her. Perhaps, he thought, the manifestations of his dreams merely responded to him. He purposefully drew in a breath and tried to calm himself—hoping to calm Beverly.
He wanted to come to her. He wanted to be with her. He wanted to hold her, and make love to her, and give way to every desire that he'd ever had, now that he was safe to do so. He couldn't hurt her—not here. Here, there was only pleasure and happiness.
"You are beautiful," he said. She smiled and a pink blush gave extra color to her cheeks and nose. She was, suddenly, even more beautiful than she had been—the Nexus kept trying to improve on itself. Beverly had always been perfect, though. "Perfect," Jean-Luc breathed out, his thoughts escaping his mouth, a little, as though their mere existence, alone, wouldn't alter the moment.
He dared to take her into his arms. She came willingly. She came happily, and his whole body flushed with happiness and a feeling like a warm rush of relief. He held her. He kissed her hungrily, and he accepted her equally hungry kisses. He helped her as she undressed him, her movements feeling almost urgent, and he undressed her the same way.
He paused, only a moment, as he took in her form—so swollen with a child that was his child. It wasn't really his—it wasn't real. It was no more real than anything else—than Beverly, herself, as she was now. His heart caught and his spirits sank slightly. She wasn't real. This wasn't real. She was only the beautiful, wonderful, manifestation of his heart's desire.
She caught his face in her hands. She turned his face toward her. She searched his eyes and he looked into her eyes. She felt so real. She seemed so real. For a moment, he believed he might even, somehow, be able to see into her soul. She looked concerned, and his stomach clenched.
How could he ever hope to make Beverly happy, if he couldn't even please something that was merely an echo of her—something that existed simply to fulfill his dreams?
One of his dreams, after all—one of his greatest desires, perhaps—was to make Beverly happy, and it seemed that he couldn't even do that. Not even the Nexus could grant him that.
"Jean-Luc…is something wrong?" Beverly asked.
He laughed quietly at his own desperation. He could be honest here. He could be honest with her in ways that he couldn't out there, where the stakes were so high. Here, she would forgive him.
"Even here," he said, "even now…I feel as if I don't deserve you. As if I never will be able to deserve you."
She smiled at him in such a way that his heart skipped a beat. She was perfect, just as he'd always known she was and, just as he'd suspected, here she forgave him every imperfection. She pulled his face to hers and she kissed him, no less hungry than before, but also with a slow, purposeful passion that ran through his whole body like electricity.
"You are perfect to me," Beverly said. "A dream come true…"
Jean-Luc felt a jolt of surprise at Beverly's words. He relaxed, though, and accepted them. He appreciated them. She was his dream come true. Naturally, the Nexus would have her mirror such a feeling for him.
"You are my dream, Beverly," Jean-Luc said, brushing his fingertips through her hair before tucking it behind her ear. He let his fingers trail over the soft skin of her face. She felt so real. Everything about her—everything about this moment—felt so real. He decided to stop questioning it. He decided to simply relax and enjoy it.
This was his dream—the only chance he would ever have to live it—and he might as well enjoy it before he was forced to wake.
"You are my dream," she echoed. Jean-Luc smiled. At least this Beverly would think of him that way—at least he could, hopefully, fulfill that for her.
He hesitated only a second before he rested his palm against her swollen belly, imagining a world in which Beverly did carry his children—a world in which they had a home, and a family, and it was entirely normal for him to touch her this way.
"Jean-Luc…there's something I do need to tell you," Beverly said.
"Oh—have we secrets here?" He asked.
He saw a flash of confusion cross her features, but it was gone as quickly as it was there, and he thought he might have imagined it. Perhaps, at times, the Nexus had to catch up with the changing thoughts—the input. It was very much like a holoprogram, he decided, except it felt even more realistic.
"I don't recall…I just wanted to be sure that you knew, Jean-Luc…that we could be happy about it together," Beverly said. "But…" She paused and pressed her hand over his. She smiled at him. "There are two of them. It seems that…we're quite good at twins."
Jean-Luc felt his stomach twist and tighten. This wasn't reality. The twins in question weren't real. And, yet, a part of him felt happy to think that they might be. The feeling swelled in his chest a bit more when he saw how happy Beverly looked—and he noticed her searching him for a reaction.
He wanted to give her the proper reaction and, possibly thanks to the Nexus, he felt it. He truly felt it.
"Two more blessings in our home," Jean-Luc said.
"You're happy, then?" Beverly asked.
"What man wouldn't be ecstatic to find out that the happiness he already felt was doubled?" Jean-Luc asked.
And, suddenly, her mouth was on his again. Her body pressed against his. The twins in question moved between them. Jean-Luc turned her body, and he helped her ease down onto the bed, barely allowing the kisses between them to stop.
Once they were comfortable in bed, she looked at him with such happiness and admiration that every bit of doubt he'd felt dissipated entirely. He was right from the start. He could not disappoint Beverly—this Beverly. He was perfect for her, and she deserved that perfection. Beverly—the real Beverly—deserved that, but he couldn't provide that for her without the help of the Nexus.
Here, though…
"I want everything to be perfect for you," he said, his hands exploring her body. His truth bubbled up inside of him. The freedom to confess it all felt so wonderful. Touching her body, tasting her, exploring every inch of her with absolute freedom—it was all almost more than he could bear, and yet he never wanted it to end. "I want everything to be perfect for you, Beverly," he repeated. "Now…in this moment. In every moment…as it should be."
"Everything is perfect," she assured him, breathily, as if his self-indulgent exploration of her body was enough to cause nearly her absolute undoing. "You are perfect, Jean-Luc. And I love you…so much."
"How I wish it were true," he breathed out, bringing their bodies together and barely biting back his own overwhelming response at simply feeling her there, with him, in every way he'd ever dared to even dream they might be.
"It's true for me…it's always been true," Beverly said.
"I love you," he breathed out. Over and over again, the words came, though he didn't really think to say them aloud. He didn't plan to say them. They ran out of him the same as sweat. They came the same as every other release that he was incapable of holding back—and the words were every bit as real as anything else that his body produced in this world that was, otherwise, built entirely of dreams.
As they settled together in the bed where Jean-Luc imagined this Beverly must believe that they had made love so many times, and Jean-Luc's pulse started to slow and his breathing began to return to normal, he felt his chest begin to ache almost unbearably. He wondered if Beverly – this Beverly—would love him even if he wept after they made love. Would she understand the way that he felt, and the overwhelming sadness that rushed through him, as he truly realized that this wasn't real and could never be real?
"I love you," he said, again, this time feeling it even a bit differently than he had each time, before, that he'd allowed himself to say it. Something inside of him felt that he should say it as much as possible, now that he was free to do so.
"I love you," Beverly echoed, snuggling her body just a little closer to his.
"You have no idea how I wish that were so," Jean-Luc said. "That it was real—and all of this was real."
Beverly sat up a little.
"What?" She asked.
Jean-Luc wondered how strong the powers of the Nexus were. He wondered what its limitations must be—for there must be limitations to everything. Still, he imagined it must be something like the holodeck. Truths could be told there and, then, easily erased.
"You probably won't remember this," Jean-Luc said. He touched her face. He trailed a finger over her cheek. "You may not even be capable of understanding it. But—you are a dream. My dream, Beverly. My beautiful, wonderful…lifelong…dream." She stared at him. She nearly looked terrified. He could see her muscles tense. He could see her desperately searching for some meaning in his words. A thought struck him, and he couldn't help but laugh quietly, even if he didn't truly feel any humor. The laugh caught on the knot that was forming in his throat. ""If we shadows have offended, think but this, and all is mended, that you have but slumbered here, while these visions did appear. And this weak and idle theme, no more yielding but a dream."
"Jean-Luc?" Beverly asked.
He wondered how long it would take before she forgot. He wondered how long it would take before the Nexus reset or somehow cleared her mind. He wondered what they would be restored to, when it corrected what he had said.
He wondered how long he would be here. Would he close his eyes and wake without her?
If that were the case—did he ever want to sleep again?
"Yes, my love?" He asked.
"Are you real?" She breathed out, her eyes going slightly wide.
Jean-Luc felt his stomach knot. He tried to push the rush of cold fear he felt out of his mind. Still, though, it chilled him. There was something in her voice. There was something in her eyes.
She seemed so familiar—so real. There was nothing soulless and empty about her. There was nothing to lead him to believe that she was nothing more than a shadow or a vision.
But did he dare to believe—and, in believing, likely fool himself?
"Beverly?" He asked. "What do you mean?"
"The Nexus," Beverly said. "Here…all of this. It's a dream."
"It's a dream," Jean-Luc said, wondering if she'd forget his words soon—and how it might look when she did. Some part of him, though, was beginning to wonder what would happen, if she didn't.
"It's my dream," Beverly said.
"No," Jean-Luc said. "I'm afraid not. I'm afraid…you are my dream. A figment of my imagination—though the greatest one that I could ever hope for."
Beverly sat up, propping herself on her elbow. There was no mistaking it now. He could see the rapid rise and fall of her chest. He could see it in her eyes. The fear there felt real, even if it couldn't be.
"Jean-Luc," Beverly said. "I'm in the Nexus."
"You are," Jean-Luc said. "Just as I am."
"This is my dream," Beverly said. "My…my heart's desire…"
"You are my heart's desire," Jean-Luc said. "Though you'll hardly remember it when this resets, or rewrites itself, as it must soon."
"Guinan told me," Beverly said. "This is my dream. You. The children. Our home…"
Jean-Luc felt reality wash down over him in a slow, cold trickle.
"Do you mean to say that…you do not believe that you have always been here?" He asked.
"Have you?" Beverly asked.
"I believe that I asked you first," Jean-Luc said. She looked almost angry.
"That's a juvenile response, Jean-Luc," she scolded.
Reality settled in a touch more, though Jean-Luc feared it—and he couldn't entirely name why. Beverly—this Beverly—was supposed to be eternally happy with him. She was supposed to be pleased with everything about him. That was how he would wish it to be, after all—that he might exist in a world where he could do no wrong in Beverly's eyes. And, yet, she was clearly at least a little put out by him at the moment.
"Are you angry with me?" He asked.
"Angry, no," Beverly said. "But…"
"Something you wouldn't be, if I were a perfect dream—something entirely unhuman?" Jean-Luc asked. "Have you always been here, Beverly?"
"I arrived just today—at least, I think…if time really moves, here, in the way that I perceive it. Jean-Luc?" She added, when Jean-Luc must have made a face. "What is it?"
"I woke on the couch—just as the children came rushing in and you followed. Beverly…"
"Jean-Luc…Are you real?"
"I believe myself to be."
"I believe myself to be," Beverly echoed.
"Then, if we're in the Nexus, as Guinan said," Jean-Luc said. "It begs the question…if you and I are both real, which we must assume we are until we know if we are not…then…whose dream is this?"