AN: Here we are, another piece to this one.
I hope you enjoy! Please don't forget to let me know what you think!
111
Jean-Luc had convinced Beverly to come to breakfast. She'd come fresh-faced and looking like she'd done exactly what he'd asked of her, when he'd left her at her door, and had taken full advantage of an early night for some rest. It appeared, too, that she must have enjoyed some good quality sleep. He hadn't seen her look quite so rested in a while—possibly since she'd first become aware of the growing presence of their little one.
Breakfast had consisted of simple fare—coffee and croissants for him and muffins and fruit for her with her coffee. She'd eaten with gusto, and Jean-Luc had found that he'd enjoyed watching her enjoy her food more than he'd enjoyed breakfast, itself, really.
She'd relaxed entirely, even removing her boots before breakfast and getting unashamedly comfortable in his presence, and she'd laughed and talked about anything that had crossed her mind, and Jean-Luc had reveled in her company.
Jean-Luc had stolen a coffee-flavored kiss from her before she'd left.
He'd felt like a teenager. It had taken him a long time—far too long, perhaps, to work up from daring to touch her face, and to hold it in his hands—to finally move in for the kiss he'd craved since the night before, when he'd left her at the door without one. Something inside of him had worried that it was too much to ask. It was too soon. It would be too overwhelming when they'd just begun to share their truths with each other.
He had barely brushed his lips against hers, and still he could hardly think of anything more than doing whatever was necessary to earn the right to do it again.
She'd kissed him back, equally as softly, and she'd smiled at him when the kiss was broken.
"I'll see you this evening, Jean-Luc," she'd said, and he'd promised to meet her and escort her to the room where they would make their announcement. He felt it was only right. He couldn't imagine doing things differently, and she hadn't argued with him before she'd gone on to her duty shift.
Jean-Luc made the announcement to the entire crew that, that evening, he would be making an important, personal announcement. People would be invited to one of the conference rooms where the announcement would be made, should they wish to hear it in person or offer any sort of personalized response to what would be announced. They would arrange duty rosters to allow for a rotation that would give everyone, should they wish to have it, the opportunity to at least pass by the conference room during the time when Jean-Luc would be present there. The announcement, of course, would be broadcasted for those who couldn't be in attendance at the exact moment that it was made.
For the time being, he hadn't mentioned Beverly's anticipated presence to the rest of the crew.
He'd gone about his morning admittedly distracted. Luckily, there was nothing of particular importance happening for the day. They were on their way to Darmion III to escort the Darmion Ambassador and the royal representatives of Darmion III back to Starfleet Headquarters to negotiate possibly joining the Federation, but there were still days of travel time before the trip would be completed and Jean-Luc would be expected to wear his diplomatic hat of welcome and hospitality.
There was little for Jean-Luc to do that required too much thought since, thankfully, he'd almost learned to do the basic, daily parts of his job automatically.
He didn't know what he would say that evening. He couldn't, for the life of him, find words that made him happy when he thought about them. He had finally given up, hoping the words simply came to him, by the time that he was supposed to meet Wesley for lunch. He'd sent Wesley a message to meet him at the holodeck, and he'd gone about making the preparations for lunch to keep himself from overthinking the upcoming announcement.
"At ease, Ensign Crusher," Jean-Luc said the moment that Wesley stood at attention in front of him, outside the holodeck. Wesley immediately relaxed. "I thought we might take a page from your mother's book and have a picnic in one of her favorite programs. Does that suit you?"
"Whatever you like is fine with me, Captain," Wesley agreed quickly.
Jean-Luc had anticipated such agreeableness when it came to choosing the location for their talk. He'd replicated a lunch that he hoped Wesley would enjoy and, noticing it, Wesley offered to carry the basket. Jean-Luc waved him off and gestured for him to enter the holodeck ahead of him. Jean-Luc had lunch time and a great deal of leisure time from where he hadn't used it before. He had arranged for Wesley to be given the time off from his duties. Though he didn't have any confirmation of "why," exactly, Riker knew that they weren't to be disturbed until Jean-Luc indicated that they had finished their business—not unless there was a genuine emergency, which he didn't anticipate.
The picnic spot that Jean-Luc chose was one that he and Beverly had seen on their walk around the holo-program. The program boasted quite a few picturesque spots for picnics and for walks, and Jean-Luc thought it was a pretty ideal place for a private conversation in a relaxed environment.
"Let's begin by dismissing formalities," Jean-Luc offered, when he and Wesley were settled with lunch. "While we're here, you may address me as Jean-Luc, and I will call you Wesley."
"My mother wouldn't like me to call you Jean-Luc," Wesley said, shaking his head.
"Your mother is not present," Jean-Luc said with a laugh. "And, furthermore, we discussed that this would be a man-to-man conversation. I want you to feel comfortable saying whatever it is that you feel necessary for us to address. That kind of comfort is hardly possible if one of us is holding rank over the other. For the time being, and any time we may find it necessary to have one of these sorts of conversations, I insist that you call me Jean-Luc, and that you feel free to address me as you would your peers."
"Before she left this morning," Wesley said, "my mother told me to mind myself and to be respectful."
Jean-Luc laughed quietly.
"Well, we won't have any problem with that, Wesley. I will respect you, and you will respect me. All relationships should, ideally, be founded on that basis. Why don't you start? What's on your mind?"
Wesley seemed to be thinking hard about what he wanted to say, and Jean-Luc indulged him. For a moment, he searched the boy's features for evidence of his parents. He found Jack easily—much more easily than he found Beverly in Wesley's physical features. Wesley was his father's son in a great many ways. He looked like Jack, but he also reminded Jean-Luc of Jack Crusher at times.
His love for his mother, too, was something that Wesley and his father had in common, even though the love was different. Jean-Luc respected Wesley's love for his mother, and his desire to care for her and protect her, and that was the primary reason he'd agreed to this conversation.
"It's just…my mom's been really…sad since she told me about the baby," Wesley said. "I've seen her get in sort of sad moods before, but it's been a while since it was something so persistent, Captain…Sir."
Jean-Luc nodded his understanding. He didn't correct Wesley, either, for his struggle to choose some way to address Jean-Luc that felt comfortable to him.
"Your mother has been under a great deal of stress," Jean-Luc offered. "I would imagine that it's not easy for a woman to deal with pregnancy—there are a great many changes that she must undergo. An unexpected pregnancy, I assume, would be even more taxing, both emotionally and physically. We'll have to extend her some grace as she navigates everything required of her to bring another life into being."
"She says she wants the baby," Wesley said.
Jean-Luc smiled to himself. He remembered Beverly's face when they went in to watch the scan. He hadn't wanted to move his eyes away from the screen. He hadn't wanted to miss a moment. The fact that he could actually see, there, the baby that they had created, was honestly amazing to him. He'd only pulled his eyes away a few times, when it had truly settled in for him that the baby he was seeing was being carried by Beverly. She had scanned everything with a very serious expression—no doubt checking for any indication that there was something that may need to be done to ensure the health and happiness of the little one she carried—and then she'd simply looked peaceful. Jean-Luc had found her expression of relaxation almost as enrapturing as the images of their little one. Unfortunately, nobody had captured a holo-image of Beverly, at that moment, for Jean-Luc to keep and admire at his leisure. He had only his memory for that.
Beverly had looked like everything was right in the world as long as the baby was fine. Jean-Luc knew that he'd seen nothing short of a mother's absolute and unconditional love on her face. It took his breath away to realize that the love she'd been feeling was toward a child that they'd created together.
"Your mother wants this baby very much," Jean-Luc offered. "I can say that without any doubt."
"But you don't," Wesley challenged. "She told me you don't. You don't want the baby. You don't want to be a father. You don't want any of it at all, Sir."
Jean-Luc took his time chewing through his food and washing it down with water.
"Wesley—it is not my intention to speak ill of your mother. Not now, and not ever. However, I do have to defend myself. Your mother is correct in that, prior to all of this, I never intended to be a father. I never intended to be committed to anything more than my position in Starfleet. Without wishing to say anything that may make you uncomfortable about the relationship between your mother and I, I can admit that, at the conception of this child, fatherhood was the farthest thought from my mind."
"The baby was a mistake," Wesley said, ignoring the fact that his face was clearly changing shades in response to the delicate subject matter of the conversation.
Jean-Luc couldn't hide his amusement.
"An accident," he said. "Yes. However, I cannot say it is a regret."
"So—you do want the baby?" Wesley asked.
Jean-Luc's pulse was quick, and his breathing was shallow. He was aware of the changes in his own body. Still, he'd become something of an expert at hiding his responses from most people.
"Yes," he admitted. "I do want the child."
"You want to be a father?" Wesley asked, clearly seeking clarification and reassurance that he'd understood Jean-Luc clearly.
"I didn't realize that I would want such a thing," Jean-Luc admitted. "However, once I saw the baby? I realized that I truly did want to be a father. More than that, I wanted to pursue fatherhood with the same dedication with which I've pursued other practices. I would like to be the best father that I can absolutely be."
"Have you told my mom that? It might help with the sadness, if you mean it, Sir," Wesley challenged. Jean-Luc accepted the challenge to Wesley's tone and his facial expression.
"I admit that your mother and I have had some difficulty when it comes to clear and direct communication," Jean-Luc said. "However, I believe that I have made it clear to her, now, that I wish to be a father, and that I wish to do that to the best of my ability. That means that I wish to be a help to her in every way possible."
"When it comes to taking care of the baby…" Wesley said, letting his words hang rather heavily at the end. Jean-Luc could practically feel the weight of them. He knew the answer to his own question, but he asked it anyway.
"What are you trying to ask me, Wesley?" Jean-Luc asked.
"Well—Sir—is it only the baby that you…" He broke off, and Jean-Luc realized that he was struggling with saying exactly what he wanted to say. Wesley was very intelligent, and Jean-Luc would never argue against that, but he was much more at home with a computer than he was, at times, with another person, and this subject matter was, no doubt, at least a little overwhelming for him.
"Are you asking me, Wesley, if my affections, which are different than what your mother ascribed to me, extend beyond the baby?" Jean-Luc asked.
"Yes, sir," Wesley said. "At least—I think so."
Jean-Luc smiled at him.
"I wish to be a father," he said. "And I wish to help care for the baby. However, I wish to help care for your mother, as well. I wish to be a help to her in everything and in every possible way that she will allow me to be."
"Are you a couple, then?" Wesley asked.
"You're asking if I intend to make an honest woman of your mother," Jean-Luc said. "The answer to that is complicated."
"It seems pretty simple to me," Wesley challenged.
"It would," Jean-Luc said. "But, you see, a great deal of that depends on your mother, as much as it depends on me."
"But you want something more?"
"As I said before, I never expected to be committed to anything beyond my career, really. As my thoughts on things change, there's an adjustment period for me, Wesley. However, there are adjustments for your mother, as well. I don't want to push her into anything that she may not want. I don't wish to rush her."
"Have you asked her what she wants?" Wesley asked.
"Not in so many words," Jean-Luc said. "It's very complicated to navigate all of this at once."
"It doesn't seem very complicated to me," Wesley said. There was clearly some frustration in his tone. "It apparently wasn't complicated enough for either of you to think about it before you made irresponsible choices."
"You are treading dreadfully close to a line that your mother wouldn't wish you to cross," Jean-Luc said. "I will take responsibility for my actions, Wesley, in this conversation. However, I will not allow you to criticize your mother in her absence."
"Are you saying that I'm wrong, Sir?" Wesley asked. The final "sir" was added as a bit of an afterthought, but Jean-Luc understood that it was Wesley's attempt to say that he meant to be respectful, but he also wanted an answer to his question.
"We acted without thinking," Jean-Luc said. "And that is irresponsible. However, correct me if I'm wrong, but I would imagine you would like for me to spare you any further details surrounding the actual moments which led to our current reality." Wesley made a face that answered the question for Jean-Luc, and Jean-Luc laughed quietly. "Yes—well—the fact of the matter remains that I wish to be there for your mother in every way that she will allow, but I will not push her into feeling that I am not allowing her any control over the situation. And I will not push her into commitment that she doesn't want. I respect her too much for that, and, frankly, I care too much for her. I would rather have the relationship that she dictates for us, whatever that may be, than push her to the point that she wishes, instead, to have nothing more than a barely-amiable co-parenting arrangement between us."
"But if she wanted more, then you would want more?" Wesley asked. "And you—wouldn't change your mind or…dump her or something like that? Sir?"
"I have never truly imagined myself as a married man," Jean-Luc said. "Or even a man who was wholly committed to any woman. However, the closest I've ever come to feeling that way—to wanting to protect and care for one woman for the span of my life—has been with your mother, Wesley. If she were to wish for the same thing? Well—I wouldn't dump her…you can rest assured of that. Not for even the most alluring Risian or Orion women."
Wesley laughed, but his face ran a little darker pink than it had been throughout the conversation.
Jean-Luc turned to his food, giving Wesley a moment to digest both the food and the conversation. In the meantime, Jean-Luc thought about the truth of what he'd just said to Wesley. He hadn't admitted it out loud as much as he should have, perhaps, but it was true—and he knew it was true, because he didn't feel any sort of knee-jerk reaction to take even one word of it back.
There had only ever been one woman he'd ever truly loved. There was only woman that he had ever dared to dream of as a wife. There was only one woman who had ever had an undeniable effect over his mind and his body.
And now, it seemed, that one, special, woman would be, if nothing else, the mother of his child.
Jean-Luc couldn't help but let his imagination drift to the possibility of something more.