AN: Here we are, another piece.
I hope that you enjoy! Please don't forget to let me know what you think!
111
"Jean-Luc, this looks incredible," Beverly said.
Jean-Luc beamed. He looked surprised—almost like he'd expected Beverly to reject the meal or, at the very least, to criticize him and his choices. Beverly wondered if she'd been too harsh with him in the past.
Jean-Luc had chosen Italian food for their meal, and Beverly couldn't help but wonder if she'd told him that she was in the mood for it, or if he'd somehow just known. She couldn't remember saying anything to him, but she did tend to mention her food desires more now than she once had.
"I'm glad you approve," Jean-Luc offered. He reached for her glass and filled it with champagne. On the table, she already had a wine glass with a deep red wine in it, and a glass of water. When her champagne flute was filled, Jean-Luc filled his own before he returned the bottle to the bucket and sat at his seat across from her. "I received my holo-recording from Dr. Moran."
"I did, too," Beverly confirmed. She'd already shown hers to Deanna. She wasn't certain how much her friend genuinely wanted to fuss over the images of her baby and the sound of its heartbeat, but Deanna had indulged her. Wesley had looked at it, too, but he'd seemed a little embarrassed by it, so Beverly had quickly tucked it away instead of prolonging his torture to find something to say.
"I've honestly looked at it rather obsessively this evening. It really is quite remarkable," Jean-Luc said. He seemed, for a moment, to be far away from the table.
"The images?" Beverly pressed gently.
"The baby…our baby," Jean-Luc said, his eyes coming back to hers. She felt something like a shiver run up her spine. Maybe it was his tone of voice that did it. Maybe it was the way he looked at her.
Deanna had pressed her, in her room and while she'd been getting ready, to consider what she called a less-defensive approach to everything. Beverly hadn't felt she was being overly defensive, but she was willing to listen to Deanna when Deanna told her that emotional wall that she was constructing could be felt by nearly everyone—whether or not they had any empathic abilities.
What would be the worst thing that would happen, if she were to let down her defenses a little?
Beverly hadn't admitted to Deanna that the worst thing that would happen would be that she would be hurt in a way she didn't want to be hurt, but she supposed that Deanna already knew the answer to her own rhetorical question. Still, she urged Beverly to consider giving Jean-Luc a chance to explore his own feelings and to express what he may want to express.
Beverly wondered, now, if Deanna hadn't talked to Jean-Luc as well. Her admirations for him as a captain aside, he'd pulled out all the proverbial stops tonight, and he'd reminded her of everything that had ever really attracted her to him as a man. The tender, romantic side of him could be overwhelming, though, especially in those times in the past, when she'd felt that he hadn't really meant it, or the moment had fallen short, and it had taken her breath away to feel so close to having something she wanted to have it merely snatched away.
Beverly hadn't trusted tenderness very much since Jack—and she'd had so few years of what he'd wanted to offer her.
"Beverly…" Jean-Luc said, leaving her name hanging like he meant to say more.
"Yes, Jean-Luc?" She responded when he stopped.
He smiled softly and shook his head.
"It's nothing," he said. "A toast—to what Dr. Moran assures me is a very healthy baby. Our very healthy baby." He lifted his glass of champagned and Beverly followed suit, but she didn't drink when he did, and he looked almost offended.
"I can't drink," she said, laughing quietly at his expression.
"You can," he assured her. "It's non-alcoholic. I would do nothing to put our youngest crew member at risk." He smiled at her affectionately and winked. "The wine is non-alcoholic and, because I had a sense that, perhaps, you and the baby might enjoy tiramisu for dessert with that sweet coffee from Belfore VI that you enjoyed so much when we first had it, I programmed the replicator to produce a version of that without caffeine, so that the little one's system doesn't get overwhelmed."
Beverly felt more moved by the gesture than she was willing to admit at the moment. Instead of saying anything, she gestured with the glass and drank to Jean-Luc's toast. He smiled and settled his napkin in his lap.
"Shall we eat—I think I remembered all of your favorites?"
"It looks wonderful," Beverly confirmed. For the first few moments, they did simply eat in amiable silence. A thousand and one thoughts raced through Beverly's mind, but she felt like she didn't know where to begin with any of them, so she guarded the silence while they ate. It was Jean-Luc who finally spoke again.
"Tomorrow, I would like to make a formal announcement to the crew," Jean-Luc said. "I feel it would be best to go ahead and alleviate the need for gossip and speculation."
"You're the captain," Beverly said. "I'm willing to leave it up to you to decide how you want to tell the crew."
"It's still your news, too, Beverly," Jean-Luc said.
"Everyone that I've wanted to tell personally knows that I'm pregnant," Beverly said. "That was my part to tell. Your—role—in everything? That's your part."
Jean-Luc smiled at her.
"Then—is it too much for me to say that I would like you there, with me? I think it might be nice to offer something a bit more personal. I can invite anyone to assemble who wishes to join us. We'll open a channel for anyone who isn't able to join, or doesn't wish to join, and we'll make the announcement."
Beverly raised an eyebrow at him.
"Maybe you should prepare me for how your announcement will go, Jean-Luc," Beverly said. "What do you intend to say? I need to know if…you're going to tell them the same thing you told Starfleet: that you impregnated the Chief Medical Officer under your command."
Her stomach ached even to say the words, and she saw Jean-Luc blanche slightly. He nodded his head gently and in a non-committal manner.
"Not my finest moment," he said. "I admit. Can you forgive me for not being more delicate with my description of things?"
Beverly hated when Jean-Luc asked her to forgive him of anything, because she'd never been able not to do just that.
"I've already forgiven you," she said. "I can admit that it did hurt my feelings, though. I never thought of myself as simply—a Chief Medical Officer who was impregnated by her captain. It feels cheap and…a little like I'm livestock, Jean-Luc."
"My sincerest, deepest apologies, Beverly," Jean-Luc said. He put his napkin on the table, stood up, and walked over to Beverly's seat. He took her hand and, when she tried to shake him away, he tugged to insist that she rise. He wrapped his arms around her, and she hugged him back, resting her face against his shoulder. "I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to—to cheapen you, or degrade you in any way. I only meant…"
Beverly closed her eyes. She didn't feel ready to pull away from him, and he didn't seem intent on insisting that she do so.
"What?" She asked. "What did you mean?"
"I only meant to…" He stopped and hesitated. Beverly gave him the time he needed. He pulled out of the hug, but he kept his arms somewhat around her, letting his hands settle familiarly on her hips. The touch made her heart beat fast. He held her eyes. "You seemed as if you regretted that I was the father. You were so reluctant to tell me about the baby. I only meant to make it clear that I would respect your wishes to distance myself, if that's what you wanted. I didn't know how else to express things with enough detachment to make you think I wouldn't dare to put any words into your mouth."
"You couldn't think of anything else except to make it sound like I—offered myself over to be impregnated," Beverly said.
Jean-Luc touched her face. He brought his lips to hers in a soft kiss that was barely more than the brushing of their lips. Beverly instinctively moved toward him, aching for more. He broke the kiss, though, and smiled at her—always leaving her wanting just a little more than he'd offered. Sometimes, that almost made her angry. This was one of those moments when the ache had a tinge of anger to it.
"I could hardly tell Starfleet that, in a moment of weakness, perhaps, I had somehow convinced my Chief Medical Officer to take pity on me and take me to bed after—nearly twenty years of wanting that to be so. I couldn't tell them that, from that minor indiscretion, there came a child that was to be born to us and that, after months of choosing not to even tell me that I was to be a father, she had—perhaps entirely reluctantly—admitted that I was the father of the child she carried. Forgive me, then, if I chose the words, incorrectly, to express the distance that I felt it necessary to maintain." He pulled away from her, and she ached to follow him wherever it was that he was going. She stood her ground, though, and didn't follow him. "The distance that—I still feel that I'm expected to maintain."
He reached a hand out and gently pushed her back toward her seat, gesturing to her that she should sit. He returned to his own chair. He waved his hand in her direction to instruct her to eat, and she didn't feel that she could tell him that she suddenly didn't want the food, so she picked at it so that he would look pleased with every bite she managed to swallow down.
"I don't want to push you away, Jean-Luc," Beverly said.
"Then—I ask that you don't," he said.
"I wanted to tell you about the baby as soon as I was sure," Beverly said. "As soon as I was fully able to admit it to myself."
"Why didn't you?" Jean-Luc asked.
From his tone—cold and distant—and from his hardened expression, Beverly could tell that Jean-Luc, though he'd been hiding it, was every bit as injured by the fact that she'd kept the baby a secret from him as she felt by the fact that he'd worded the official news of her pregnancy as though he'd successfully put her to stud.
"You're the captain," Beverly said. "And—you've been married to your work. You've refused everything in life—vacations, dating, marriage…family. You've rejected it all in favor of your career. And I respect that about you. You know what you want, and you've always been willing to sacrifice everything else in pursuit of what you desired. I knew, when I confirmed my pregnancy to myself, that there was a chance that I would raise this baby on my own, but I was prepared for that…"
"Because you raised Wesley on your own," Jean-Luc said, his tone short and clipped. "Because Jack was at work for most of the pregnancy." He smiled to himself. "I remember the holos you sent, Beverly. He showed them all to me. All the updates that you sent—we watched you carry Wesley together. I remember how frantic he was when Wesley was coming and I had to pull every string possible to get him home to you in time to see his son born. I was there. I overheard when you told him, over the viewscreen, that you'd hold on for him—his son would wait for him."
"He did," Beverly said.
"Just barely," Jean-Luc said with a laugh. "Jack missed so much, and he hated that. Even though he loved Starfleet, he loved you more. I always felt guilty about making you a widow—about making him miss everything."
"I blamed you…sometimes," Beverly admitted. "But—I know that was only because I needed someone to blame."
"I kept my distance because I felt guilty," he said. "I wanted that blame, if I'm being honest, but I couldn't stand to face the fact that I'd made you a widow. I made you have to raise your son alone. And, now, it appears that I almost did that again."
For a moment, it looked like he was practically choking on his words. Beverly felt her own pain, and she wondered if it was the same as his.
"I would have been there from the first moment—from the first second," Jean-Luc said, "if you would have let me."
"You were there from the first second," Beverly offered. "The very first."
"You know what I mean," he said. There was a touch of bite to his tone. It was hurt more than anger. Beverly could feel it across the table. She sighed and nodded.
"You were concerned about what Starfleet would say," Beverly said. "How they would react. I went to tell you just as soon as I was absolutely sure—just as soon as I was ready to accept it, myself, and to handle whatever might be about to happen. You regretted what had happened between us, Jean-Luc. You regretted being with me. I couldn't take that back. I couldn't undo what we'd done together, but I could save you from this. I could save you from the unwanted responsibility of fatherhood."
Jean-Luc wasn't making eye contact with her for the moment. Finally, he tapped his finger against the edge of the table, brow-furrowed, and spoke.
"What fools these mortals be," Jean-Luc mused. Beverly felt herself oddly relax at the familiar Shakespearean line. More than the words, it was Jean-Luc's tone that seemed to soothe the tension building in her muscles. She sat back in her chair, relieved to let go of some of the tension. "It would appear that—we have tried very hard to keep from hurting one another. And, in trying to step delicately, we have failed entirely and stomped on the very thing we tried so hard to protect."
"Are you saying I misread your regret?" Beverly asked.
"What I'm saying is that I will no longer try to defend myself," Jean-Luc said. "Nor shall I explain myself. To do so would be only to try to refuse responsibility for my actions and misdeeds. Instead, Beverly, all I shall say is that—I have never dreamed that I would actually be a father. However, in finding myself in such a position, I realized that I want to be a father. I regret, even, what I have already missed of my child's existence—every precious moment, when I might have been available for help and support. Would you grant me the ability not to miss anything else?"
Beverly drank some of the water available to her. She hoped that, by drinking the liquid, she could wash down her flood of feelings, and she could keep them from spilling out in ways she wasn't prepared to handle just yet.
"You haven't missed anything, Jean-Luc," she assured him. "Maybe—you missed the first moments when I knew that…or suspected that…the baby was there, but you haven't missed anything of importance."
"Does this mean that you will allow me to be a father as I deem proper—as I figure out what that means to me?"
"Knowing that you want it, I would never keep you from your child," Beverly said. "And I would never keep my child from knowing its father."
"Then, tomorrow, would you be with me when I announce to the crew that I am to become a father—and that we are both to become parents?"
Beverly nodded.
"I'll be right there beside you," she assured him.
"It feels as if you always have been," Jean-Luc mused.
"When you have allowed it," Beverly ventured.
"Have I any hope, Beverly, of winning the right to have you always at my side?" Jean-Luc asked.
Beverly's whole body reacted to the words. Along with the slight kindling of hope, though, came the cold dread of fear.
"What do you mean, Jean-Luc?" Beverly asked, not sure what she wanted to hear.
"I've missed my best friend," Jean-Luc offered. There was an undeniable melancholy in those words. "I have missed your presence, Beverly. Desperately. I suppose that I'm asking you not to put distance between us again. I'm asking—if I could ask you to breakfast tomorrow…and to dinner again."
"I could eat every meal with you, Jean-Luc, but I do have a son," Beverly offered with a quiet laugh.
"I would wish, of course, to dine with him, whenever he would like to join us."
"Just because miscommunication seems to be the theme of the night," Beverly said, "am I clear in understanding that you only want to eat with me?"
"I want a great many things," Jean-Luc said. "But—I believe that nothing too easily won is lasting."
"You want something lasting…" Beverly said, her pulse reminding her that she wanted the same, though she was terrified to admit it—maybe Jean-Luc was terrified, too. She nodded gently at him, hoping to subconsciously convey what she felt to him. "Because—I think there's time, Jean-Luc, for that—for…building that. We have time for…just about anything."
Jean-Luc smiled.
"Our time, tonight, is limited. I did promise young Wesley that I would have his mother home at a decent hour, and I believe he intends to wait up for her and to hold me at my word. I do not wish to be seen as untrustworthy." Beverly smiled back at him, and she saw Jean-Luc visibly relax. "And I do believe that—you need to eat your meal, Beverly, because it's good for you. And you need to take advantage of our early night because you need to rest."
"Are you going to tell me everything I need, Jean-Luc?" Beverly asked. "Everything that's good for me?"
"Am I being too overbearing?" He asked.
"A little," Beverly admitted. "But—I like it. For now."
"I only wish to take care of you," Jean-Luc said. "Though, I do understand that you don't require that."
"Nobody has taken care of me in a long time," Beverly said.
"I would like to remedy that," Jean-Luc said. "If you would allow it. If you hate it…"
"I enjoy it," Beverly admitted. "More than I thought I would. It may take me some time to adjust."
Jean-Luc smiled at her. He'd returned to his food, probably as cooled as hers.
"We have time for that. We have time for all of it," Jean-Luc said.
Beverly's stomach fluttered in response to his words and what she suspected he meant. She returned to her own food. It tasted better cooled, she decided. Or, maybe, it simply tasted better with the sense of hope and excitement that felt like it was starting to grow inside her, along with their little creation.
"We do," she confirmed.
"Can I admit that I'm looking forward to it?" Jean-Luc asked. He smiled at her.
"I am, too," Beverly said. She returned his smile.
"I don't know if I fully know what all of 'it' really is," Jean-Luc admitted. "But—in the interest of absolute honesty and candor, I have to admit that I'm excited to find out."
"I'm excited that we'll find out together," Beverly said with a laugh.
"There's nobody else that I'd rather do this with," Jean-Luc said. "Any of it."