AN: I'm so glad that y'all are excited about this! I think there's so much potential, and I'm super excited about exploring the whole untying of all these knots. LOL

I am also changing the rating because there are things that sometimes come up and surprise even me (since I do believe in writing what feels organic, and sometimes that changes from my plans), so I like to set the rating to allow for that without my having to worry.

I really hope you enjoy! Please don't forget to let me know what you think!

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Beverly decided to forego any attempt at breakfast. If she put nothing in her stomach, she argued to herself, there was nothing to come back up. The plan wasn't sustainable by any stretch of the imagination, but she hoped it would at least get her through the coming conversation.

Jean-Luc called Beverly into his ready room the moment that she'd rang the bell. He met her at the door and waved her over to the more relaxed seating of his ready room.

"This is fine, Captain," she said, gesturing back toward his desk—the more formal location, as she considered it.

A half-smile turned up the corner of his mouth and he raised his eyebrow at her.

"Captain," he mused. "I see, Doctor, that you are here on ship business?"

Beverly's stomach lurched and she swallowed against the desire to gag. There was nothing in her stomach. She reminded herself of that purposefully. If she were to gag now, she wouldn't stop for a while, but she'd also be unlikely to find any genuine relief. She folded her left thumb into the palm of her hand and squeezed it in an attempt to gain any possible control over her gag reflex.

"Beverly?" Jean-Luc asked, reaching out a hand and affectionately touching her shoulder.

She was immediately conflicted. One part of her relished the simple touch—the warmth of his hand through her uniform—and the other part of her wanted to beg him not to touch her so that she didn't have to feel the ache in her chest that came to her every time she reminded herself that he didn't want to touch her; not the way she wanted to be touched by him, not for as long as she wanted him to touch her.

Beverly waved a hand to dismiss his concerns.

"I'm fine," she assured him, accepting that she wasn't as good at hiding her discomfort as she liked to believe. Wesley couldn't be fooled and, apparently, neither could Jean-Luc. She'd been distancing herself from everyone for the past little bit, and she had to accept that it was better to get this out in the open so that she didn't have to keep trying to hide from everyone.

"Are you unwell?" Jean-Luc asked.

"It's nothing that won't improve," Beverly assured him. "Please—Captain."

His face fell slightly. Beverly felt a little wounded just to see how absolutely wounded he looked. She had, admittedly, been avoiding him since the night, a couple of months before, when she'd told him she needed some time and space. He hadn't imagined, clearly, how much time and space she might need. Given her position, of course, she maintained their working relationship, but she'd done a pretty good job of avoiding any one-on-one interaction between them that went beyond the most professional exchanges.

Jean-Luc squeezed her shoulder where he'd been touching her, and then he dropped his hand somewhat reluctantly. He gestured toward the chairs that she'd indicated as the ones she preferred.

"You won't let me get you anything?" He asked. "Tea?"

Beverly sensed a yearning in him—a desire to do something. It tugged at her, and she felt her cheeks grow warm. She hated that he had that effect on her. At the moment, she hated that he had any effect on her at all—though she recognized that he had a great deal.

"Peppermint tea," she ceded, finally. He looked far too overjoyed by the request. He gestured to her to sit, and he returned quickly with tea for the both of them. He passed her the peppermint tea, and he sat at his desk with his own Earl Grey.

"Now then, Doctor," he said, "what is it that you needed to discuss with me?"

Beverly sipped the peppermint tea. It was warm and soothing. Tea was one of the few things that her stomach seemed willing to accept and, though she knew it was not an acceptable full-time diet, and that she and her baby both were likely suffering at least a little for her lack of proper nutrition beyond the vitamins she took in hypospray form, she figured that, at the very least, it was helping to combat the dehydration that she was fighting.

"Is it in regard to the health of a crew member?" Picard asked when she didn't immediately respond. He swallowed a taste of his own tea.

"You could say that," Beverly said. She hesitated a moment, and then decided that the only thing to do was not to dance around it. "It's about my own health."

"I see," Jean-Luc said. "You are—unwell?"

Beverly stared at him. Her anxiety was nearly making her dizzy. She swallowed a bit more of the warm tea.

"I'm…pregnant," she said. The word, this time, came out more easily than it had the night before with Wesley. Maybe it would be easier each time. Maybe, by the time she finished telling everyone on the crew that would have the slightest interest in knowing about her condition, it would be almost second nature to say the word aloud.

The color drained from Jean-Luc's face. He looked no more well than she felt. Beverly dropped her eyes to her tea cup and decided to do damage control as quickly as possible.

"It's customary to report pregnancies for the sake of shift planning, and for consideration when it comes to…to away missions, R and R…"

"I am aware, Beverly, of the official reasons for the protocol of reporting pregnancies among crew members," Jean-Luc said. "Is that the only reason that you've come to share this information with me?"

Beverly hoped her ability to hide her irregular heartbeat and rapid breathing was better than her ability to hide her morning sickness. She did her best not to make eye contact with Jean-Luc, judging his reactions out of her peripheral vision as much as possible.

"It is," she said.

"I see," Jean-Luc said. "May I ask about—any of the details of the pregnancy?"

"I am…nearly in my second trimester," Beverly said. "All of the tests I've run have come back normal. The baby appears healthy. I am fully capable of performing all duties without any problem."

"Which shift doctor is your attending physician?" Jean-Luc asked.

"I haven't chosen one," Beverly said.

"Isn't that selection a bit overdue, Beverly?" Jean-Luc asked.

"I will—talk to Dr. Moran," Beverly said. "Captain," she added, doing her best to reestablish the formality she'd tried to create.

"Very well," Jean-Luc said. "Is there anything else I should know?"

Beverly's stomach twisted. She could practically feel it—the question hanging between them. She knew that, if she looked at him, he'd find the nerve to ask it. For the moment, he was dancing around it.

"I don't think so, Captain," Beverly said. "It should not affect my duties for some time. I'll be sure to let you know if that fact changes. I am able to perform all my duties for the time being."

"I don't doubt it," he said. "Nor am I particularly concerned about your duties, Beverly."

There was a bit of a bite to his tone that made Beverly's stomach squeeze. She closed her eyes. Not even the tea could help that—but she also didn't want the tea to make a reappearance; not in the captain's ready room, and not in the most undignified manner that she could imagine.

"That's all, Captain," Beverly said, as soon as she felt like she could trust herself to speak again. She dared to make passing eye contact with him. His brow was furrowed. She couldn't be certain, but she thought he looked at least a little angry.

"Doctor," he said, putting a significant amount of bite behind the title, "may I ask a personal question?"

"I'd rather you didn't," Beverly countered. He looked surprised, and perhaps annoyed, at her response. He decided to continue, regardless of her response.

"May I ask—who is the father of this child?" Jean-Luc asked.

That was the question that Beverly most dreaded. She didn't want to lie to him, but she absolutely didn't want to tell him the truth, either.

Jean-Luc was married to his career. He was married to the ship and the stars. He had remarked to her, after Jack's death, that he hated to see her made a widow by Jack's career. He hated to know that she'd been left without Jack to be her companion, and he hated to know that she'd been left to raise Wesley alone.

Jean-Luc wasn't a man who wanted marriage and children. Whether it was fear, as Beverly often thought it must be, or something else entirely, he wasn't the kind who walked around hoping for the day that he'd become a family man.

And she couldn't do that to him. She couldn't burden him with that—something he didn't want. She couldn't tie herself to him, knowing that she'd always be the one who had taken something from him or, at the very least, forced something onto him that he didn't want.

She licked her lips, practically tasting the bitterness of a lie in the making.

"I'd rather not disclose that," Beverly said. "Doctor-patient confidentiality."

Jean-Luc laughed quietly.

"In which case you are both the doctor and the patient," he said. "I'm not certain that it works that way, does it?"

"Then—I wish not to disclose that information because it's inconsequential," Beverly said. "The father—will not be taking an active role in the child's life."

"Because you're not going to allow it?" He asked.

"Because he…has another life," Beverly said. "Captain—I don't feel comfortable discussing all of my indiscretions unless there's some requirement of Starfleet, which I don't know about, and which requires me to disclose the names of my sexual partners."

He stared at her. She only made eye contact in passing, finding reasons to divert her eyes when she found that she couldn't hold his gaze.

"Of course, there isn't," Jean-Luc said. "I'm not asking as your captain, Beverly. We're old friends. And…"

"And?" She asked.

"Jack would have wanted me to look out for you," Jean-Luc said.

Beverly didn't mean to laugh, but the nervous laughter just bubbled up in her and escaped before she could stop it.

"Don't worry, Jean-Luc," she said. "This baby has nothing to do with Jack, so you're off the hook entirely."

"That isn't what I meant, exactly," Jean-Luc said. He sighed. "I seem to be very good, lately, at putting my foot in my mouth—in particular where you're involved."

"Don't worry about it," Beverly said quickly. "I'm not offended."

"No, of course you aren't," Jean-Luc said. Now he was looking away. Beverly could look directly at him, because he wasn't looking directly at her. He looked wounded again. She drank some of the cooled tea. Cooled down, it didn't have quite the same soothing abilities as it did when it was hot, and she pushed it away so that she wouldn't accidentally drink from it again and give her wretched stomach more ammunition to use against her.

"I have some work to do in sickbay," Beverly said. "May I be dismissed, Captain?"

"Before you begin your shift," Jean-Luc said, his tone a touch abrasive, "I expect you to contact Dr. Moran. Tell her that it's Captain's orders that you should receive a full physical immediately, and any required tests or…examinations…or what have you, for the pregnancy. She can maintain confidentiality, of course, but I expect the full Captain's report on your health as soon as it's complete."

Jean-Luc could look at her now. Wearing the armor of his role as captain, he clearly felt empowered and able to handle whatever had threatened to get the best of him before.

Beverly hesitated a moment, and then she stood.

"Yes, Captain," she said. "I'll tell Dr. Moran that I'll need her to do that right away."

"See that you do," Jean-Luc said. "And…I expect the report before you take control of sickbay again."

Beverly knew that she wasn't unable to run sickbay. She knew, too, that he knew that, as well. She didn't pretend to know exactly what he was feeling right this moment—or what he was thinking—but it was clear that he needed the control that his position, and this demand, gave him. She wasn't going to fight him. She was nearly through her first trimester, and it was really best to let another physician have a look at her, if nothing else.

"Yes, Captain," she agreed. "May I be dismissed?"

Instead of formally dismissing her, Jean-Luc waved his hand to dismiss her. She might have been offended, but he looked wounded enough that she almost wanted to stop and comfort him. Instead, she turned and started toward the door.

"Beverly…" He said.

Beverly stopped and turned back. She felt a little stronger with the short amount of distance between them.

"Captain…"

"No," he said. "I'm not speaking to you as your captain. Beverly—is there anything else you should tell me? Anything else—I should know? Anything that you want me to know?"

Beverly chewed on it a moment. She felt frozen in place. She wasn't sure that her knees would support her when she started to walk away again. She wanted to look away from him, but he made eye contact with her, and he held her eyes in such a way that she felt like she couldn't look away from him—not this time.

"No, Jean-Luc," she said. "I don't think there is."

He frowned. She felt an ache in her chest in response to his expression. She didn't want to read too much into it. She didn't want to try to interpret it. At the moment, all she could think of was escape. She didn't wait to be dismissed again. She didn't ask to be dismissed again. She didn't wait for him to make any sort of response at all. She simply turned and made her escape, practically running for half a deck before she slipped into a bathroom to let herself cry with a bit of privacy.