AN: Here we are, another piece to this one!
I really hope that you enjoy! Please don't forget to let me know what you think!
111
When Beverly woke, a wave of nausea washed over her immediately. It wasn't as bad as it had been in the past, but she caught herself hoping she could keep from being sick, somehow. She rolled over and, on the table beside her bed, there was a glass of water and a hypospray. Against what might have been her better judgment if she hadn't felt so suddenly wretched, Beverly trusted the hypospray and injected herself. Immediately, she felt a relaxation flow through her, and the nausea slowly ebbed away.
Beverly remained still, with her eyes closed, until she was certain that she wasn't going to be sick. She sat up and, taking the glass of water and sipping it, she read the piece of paper that was folded under it.
"I'm preparing this for you tonight. However, I'm hoping that you will agree to have breakfast with me in the morning. If this is the case, please know that I am anxiously awaiting your company. -Jean-Luc."
Beverly smiled at the note. He must have done this while she'd been in the bathroom. He had anticipated that the medication, which needed to be taken at regular intervals if it was going to work, would have worn off by morning. Beverly felt a rush of warmth and affection as she read the note a few more times. She sipped a little more of the water, happy to find that she didn't feel like she would be sick.
Beverly made her bed, relieved herself, and washed her face before slipping into her robe. She expected to find Wesley awake and, perhaps, waiting on her, but she was surprised to come into the living area of their quarters to find Jean-Luc sitting with Wesley at the table—both of them in uniform.
Jean-Luc stood as soon as Beverly entered the living area, and he walked directly toward her, reaching out to wrap an arm around her and walk her to the table. The warmth she'd felt before renewed itself, and her heart fluttered.
"How are you feeling?" He asked.
"Better," she assured him. She leaned and hugged Wesley. He hugged her back, but she noticed that he did so very gingerly. "Good morning, Wesley. You're in uniform already?"
"I'm doing a lesson with Geordi before my shift starts," Wesley said.
"How'd you sleep?" Beverly asked.
"I slept fine, Mom," Wesley said. "How did you sleep?"
Beverly smiled. His concern was palpable.
"I slept fine," she said. "That medication may have helped with that, too. I don't think I woke up at all last night, and that was definitely longer than I normally sleep."
"It's the baby," Wesley offered, matter-of-factly. Beverly smiled at him. He suddenly, apparently, knew a great deal about pregnancy. She didn't want to curb his enthusiasm for his sibling in any way, though. She squeezed his shoulder.
"You're probably right."
"You need it."
"She absolutely does need the rest," Jean-Luc agreed. "And the medication. Is the morning dose as successful as last night's was?" He pulled a chair out for her, and Beverly sat, allowing him to push the chair in. Wesley watched the whole thing with a passing curiosity, but not too much evident concern.
"It alleviated the nausea," Beverly said. "And I do feel relaxed, but it hardly has the same effects as what I took yesterday."
"That's to be expected," Jean-Luc said. "I was just telling Wesley a bit more about the medication. Dr. Moran sent me the information that was forwarded to her. You shouldn't find it problematic at all now that you're able to keep food down. You simply shouldn't wait too long between meals or doses. You should re-dose every four hours, when possible, and you should always have at least something light to eat with the medication. The updated information suggests a little euphoria with each new dose, but as soon as you begin to metabolize something, the feeling should settle."
"It's nothing at all like it was yesterday," Beverly confirmed.
"Am I correct in assuming that you feel like you can tolerate breakfast?" Jean-Luc asked. Beverly nodded at him.
"You don't need to serve me," she protested, but she already knew that it was in vain. Jean-Luc was already serving her from what he'd prepared.
"A croissant, some…would you prefer to try turkey or ham for your breakfast?"
"Turkey," Beverly offered.
"And cheese," he said, arranging things on the plate. "I didn't know which fruit you'd prefer, so I thought a medley might be nice." He served some of the fruit into a bowl. He placed both the bowl and the fruit in front of her. "Do you have a tea preference?" Before she could open her mouth to tell him, he smiled at her. "Peppermint?" She smiled back and nodded. He brought the hot beverage directly from the replicator.
"Thank you," she said. "I didn't expect you to be here this morning."
"I thought I would come to you for breakfast," Jean-Luc said, taking his seat next to her. She thought that, maybe, he'd strategically placed himself across from Wesley so that he could be closer to her. "And—I thought it might be best if Wesley were to join us before his lesson."
Beverly was just admitting to herself that Jean-Luc's choice for breakfast food was very nearly heavenly, when she felt a sensation of dread wash over her. She knew what he was insinuating. She knew, too, that he was right. They had to tell Wesley, and it was best to tell him together. She knew, too, that Wesley really had no place to judge, and this was simply to inform him of the truth, but it was still difficult to admit, to her teenaged son, that she'd accidentally created the baby she carried with the man who sat next to her at the table.
Under the table, Beverly felt pressure against her knee. For a second, she was confused. Then, she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling the way that she felt like smiling. She abandoned the food, for a moment, to drop her hand under the table and find the one that was offered to her, resting against her knee. Jean-Luc warmly wrapped her hand in his and squeezed.
Beverly decided that there were probably a hundred wonderful ways to introduce news, but she couldn't think of a single one of them beyond being simply direct. There was nothing to do but say what needed to be said.
"Wesley…" Beverly said.
"Yes, Mom?" He pressed when she hesitated. "Are you sick again? You've got to eat something."
Beverly was thankful for the laughter that bubbled up in response to what had practically become an expected part of every meal with Wesley.
"I'll eat," she assured him. "I just—need to talk to you, first." He looked at her with expectation. Jean-Luc squeezed her hand under the table. She glanced at him, and she was certain that he was doing his best to ask her, with his eyes, if she needed him to be the one to continue from here. She gave him a reassuring smile, and she was thankful for the fortification of his presence. "Wes—I thought about what you said, about the baby having a right to know it's father, and…"
"And the father having a right to make a decision," Wesley added. "Even Captain Picard would agree with me, Mom."
Beverly looked at Jean-Luc and raised her eyebrows. He smiled and laughed quietly.
"The boy's not wrong, Beverly," he offered. "I do think that the father has a right to decide if he wishes to have a presence in his child's life."
Beverly held her breath for a second. She looked back at Wesley. He was looking at her with a furrowed brow. Perhaps, he was beginning to unravel some of the mystery for himself.
"I thought about what you said," she said, "and I decided that you were right."
Jean-Luc squeezed her hand tightly.
"And that is why I'm here," he offered. "Wesley—it's why I pressed Starfleet to reach out and help find a scientist who might have some solution to your mother's sickness—something that might help to ensure that the baby gets what it needs to grow properly. It's why I was here last night, taking care of your mother. And—it's why I'll be here to help take care of her whenever she chooses to allow me the privilege."
Beverly felt a little dizzy. She could have blamed it on the medication—the one bite of breakfast she'd managed was hardly enough to absorb all of the effects of it—or she might have simply blamed it on the rush of affection and overwhelm she felt at an entirely unexpected confession.
Jean-Luc was still holding her hand, but he was working it in his almost painfully. She recognized his anxiety, and she squeezed back, hoping to offer him a bit of the comfort he'd been trying to give to her.
Wesley looked exactly the way that Beverly thought every stereotypical depiction of surprise or shock looked. His mouth was slightly open, his eyes were wide, and he'd abandoned his own breakfast. He was, perhaps, a bit pale, too.
"Wesley—are you OK?" Beverly asked, feeling the immediate need to make sure that such an unexpected revelation hadn't been too much of a shock for first thing in the morning.
Wesley looked at her, brow-furrowed, and then he looked at Jean-Luc.
"You must have questions," Jean-Luc offered, his tone far more understanding than Beverly might have imagined—especially with all the nightmare scenarios she'd become quite good at creating.
"You're the baby's father?" Wesley stammered.
Jean-Luc nodded his head.
"I am," he said.
Wesley looked at Beverly, no less overwhelmed than he'd looked before.
"Mom—the captain?"
Beverly felt her face grow warm. Suddenly, she felt like a child being scolded for her poor decisions. In this case, she was a mother being somewhat silently scolded for her indiscretion. Her cheeks were hot in response, but Jean-Luc looked unbothered. At a second glance, he looked steeled. He had prepared himself. He was using the same separation that he might have used in some kind of negotiation to keep his feelings from showing. Beverly hadn't taken the time to put up the kind of protection she might use while delivering news she knew would not be received well in sickbay.
Still, she drew in a breath and reminded herself that she was a grown woman—not a child at all. She reminded Wesley of that, feeling a little strength from the reminder, alone.
"I am a grown woman, Wesley," Beverly said. "And Captain Picard—Jean-Luc—is a grown man. We don't have to explain our actions or our choices to anyone."
Wesley opened his mouth like he might protest, but he thought about it and closed his mouth. He looked back at Jean-Luc.
"You don't want the baby?"
Wesley's question, if that's what it was, had come out neither as a statement nor a question—not entirely. Beverly's pulse was a bit erratic in response. She'd told him, every single time that he'd asked, that the reason she wasn't going to tell the baby's father was simple—he didn't want the baby. He hadn't planned for what had happened, he wouldn't be happy about it, and he wouldn't want anything to do with it.
Jean-Luc didn't even look struck by the question. He barely furrowed his brow for a second, thinking about it.
"I have only recently had my paternity of the child confirmed to me," Jean-Luc said. "Certainly, and I don't believe this is any secret to anyone who knows me, I had no intention of fathering a child."
"So—you're sorry it happened," Wesley filled in.
"Wesley…" Beverly scolded him for interrupting.
Jean-Luc laughed quietly.
"Beverly—I believe he means for this conversation to be man-to-man," Jean-Luc said. "And I, for one, am willing to have such a conversation, when it is required of me. Wesley—I am not entirely sure of all my feelings yet. I have nothing more that I can say beyond the fact that I require time to truly know my own heart in its entirety. In the meantime, what I can tell you is that, while the creation of this child was not an active, conscious decision of your mother or myself, this child will know the best life that both of us can provide for it. I did not plan for the responsibility of being a father, but I am prepared to do my duty as one."
"Does this mean you're…together?" Wesley asked. "A…couple?"
Beverly was certain, then, that she hadn't eaten enough to steady herself after the medication—especially not with the added overload of the morning.
"Wesley—this was simply to inform you," Beverly said. "Not to seek your permission."
"I'm not trying to grant permission," Wesley protested. "I'm just asking if this means you're a couple. Or was this just a…" He stopped short. He glanced at both of them—one after the other. He put his napkin on the table. "I'm supposed to meet Geordi for a lesson this morning. I'm going to be late. May I please be excused?"
"Wesley…" Beverly started. Under the table, Jean-Luc patted her knee.
"Let him go, Beverly," Jean-Luc said, his voice soft and urging. "We all need time to fully know our thoughts and feelings on the matter."
Beverly accepted that. She nodded at Wesley. He stood up and thanked her. Then, he walked over and kissed her on the cheek.
"I'm not mad, Mom. Honestly. You need to eat, OK?"
Beverly felt that whatever appetite she'd had was dwindling, but she nodded at him, anyway. Wesley looked at Jean-Luc. His brow was still slightly furrowed, but he wasn't putting voice to his feelings, now.
"Will you please make sure she eats something?" Wesley asked.
A hint of a smile spread over Jean-Luc's lips and he nodded.
"You have my word," he said. "Man to man. Report to your lesson, Ensign Crusher. I appreciate your confidence in the matter, and I assure you that your mother is in good hands."
Wesley nodded his head somewhat sternly, and he took his leave of both of them. When he was gone, Beverly sighed.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"You have no reason to apologize," Jean-Luc said. "And neither does Wesley, so don't pressure him to do so."
"Jean-Luc…"
"We have a lot to talk about, Beverly," Jean-Luc said, cutting her off. "There's no doubt about that. The when doesn't matter, though. Whether we discuss it now or…allow ourselves time to simply breathe and know our own minds, we have time. For now, though, I must insist that you eat your breakfast before you allow yourself to become so thoroughly hungry that you can no longer metabolize your medication well. Remember, it requires that you not allow your stomach to become completely empty before your next dose and meal. Otherwise, we're right back where you were last night."
"Jean-Luc…"
His expression made her almost feel like laughing. It also made her feel sorry for, apparently, making nothing easy on his patience this morning. She arranged another bite of her food, despite the fact that she wasn't feeling nearly as hungry as she knew she should be, and ate it to show her full intention to consume what had been placed on the plate. She recognized that, in a lot of ways, she was going to have to let her body learn proper cues, again, surrounding food.
She thought Jean-Luc actually looked relieved to see her chewing. He visibly relaxed and turned to his own breakfast.
"What is it, Beverly?" He asked.
"I understand what you're saying about each of us taking time to…think. And I agree. But…"
"Yes?" Jean-Luc pressed.
"I don't want the baby to be a duty," Beverly said. "And I don't want to be your duty, either. So, if that's the case, you're relieved from duty, Captain."
He looked at her. He held her eyes intently.
"Point taken and well-understood, Beverly," he said. "I didn't mean that the way that it must have sounded. Please forgive me? I don't know what I'm doing. I feel quite in over my head. I'm learning as I go, you could say. But—being here is not a duty. It is, and has always been, a privilege to be in your presence."