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
"Are you ready, Beverly?" Jean-Luc asked, stepping into the doors of her quarters at her request. The doors closed behind him. "There's no rush if you aren't. They can't start without us."
Beverly was pulling her boots on.
"I had to replicate some new boots," Beverly said, laughing to herself. "I need one size before my shift and, apparently, a different size after being on my feet all day."
"If you'd rather relax this evening…" Jean-Luc said, immediately feeling out of his league.
His stomach was slightly unsettled as he realized that, at least as much as any other problem he'd ever solved in his professional life, he wanted to solve every problem that Beverly might have. It was an unnerving feeling. It made him feel out of control of his own emotions and thoughts—and it made him realize one of the reasons that he'd actively avoided indulging these kinds of feelings before.
He knew that Beverly could unnerve him entirely, and she could do so without even trying or wanting to do so.
She smiled at him, and her smile calmed the storm that was building inside of him.
"It's just water retention, Jean-Luc," Beverly said. "It's nothing serious, and nothing to be concerned about. I've scanned myself and ruled out every possible complication except a simple case of being pregnant and on my feet for most of the day in boots that don't breathe very well."
"New boots are likely to be just as uncomfortable as your old ones that are too tight. They may even be worse," Jean-Luc said when Beverly stood and closed the gap between them, standing in front of him.
"I'll suffer through breaking them in," she said.
"Tell me what I can do to help," Jean-Luc said.
"It's not a medical emergency, Jean-Luc," Beverly said. "I'll put my feet up when we get back. But—are you sure you want to do this? Tell everyone on the ship, I mean?"
Jean-Luc smiled at her.
"I'm certain of that," he said. "Are you sure that you're ready for everyone to know that I'm the father? I know you haven't even officially announced your pregnancy to everyone."
She looked amused that he'd turned the questioning back on her.
"I'm ready," she said, holding his eyes with her own. He felt something of a shiver make its way up his spine as his gut told him that there was more meaning behind those two words than what rested wholly on the surface.
He let his eyes glide over her, from head to toe.
"You look beautiful," he said. She smiled softly. "You do understand, though, that you're not required to wear your uniform. We are off-duty."
"I think I chose to wear mine for the same reason you chose to wear yours," Beverly offered.
"It does offer some feeling of control," Jean-Luc said, assuming that she meant the same thing. It was difficult for both of them to admit that, in this moment, they both felt wildly out of control. There was a great deal to navigate. There was a great deal of unknown ahead of them. And, though that feeling of the unknown and a potential type of adventure could thrill them both, it was also terrifying to admit a total loss of control over things. Beverly agreed with a slight nod. Jean-Luc moved to rest his hand on her back and to guide her out of her quarters. "Did you take your medicine? Did you have something to eat? I arranged for there to be refreshments, and you can have whatever you would like, but I don't want you to be ill."
"Jean-Luc…" Beverly said.
With his hand on her back, Jean-Luc tensed.
"I'm being too overbearing," he said. "And I apologize."
Beverly stopped. She turned, facing him again. She smoothed his collar, and then his jacket—neither of which, he was sure, needed it, but he certainly wasn't going to turn down her touch for any reason.
"No—Jean-Luc," Beverly said. "I meant it at breakfast…and at dinner last night…when I said I like it. It's just…"
"Yes?" He pressed when she stopped, clearly chewing on things.
"I do enjoy it," Beverly said. "And—it makes me afraid to get used to it. That's all."
Jean-Luc felt slightly dizzy. He caught her hand and raised it to his lips. She smiled at him, and he returned it, his heart fluttering in his chest with the overload of anxiety he'd been managing all day and for what seemed like forever now.
"I wish you would, Beverly," he said. "Because—if you enjoy it, I have no intention of ceasing to be just as I am at this moment."
Her smiled didn't fade. She held his eyes, and then she nodded.
"We'd better go," she said.
"Will Wesley be joining us?" Jean-Luc asked.
"He said he already knows the secret," Beverly said. "So, he'll just drop by later."
111
If Jean-Luc had hoped to be suddenly struck with the right words to make this one of his best speeches, his reality fell dreadfully short of his hopes. When it had come time to make the announcement, he'd requested a ship-wide channel with full control through his combadge, so that he could connect and disconnect as needed. He wanted to make the announcement, but he also wanted to monitor Beverly—making sure that anything he chose to say would be something she wanted, as well.
A lifetime of practice in knowing what to say, when to say it, and how to say it still fell short.
He had managed to simply stumble over the basics, and he'd achieved nothing of the poetry that something inside of him felt might be necessary when telling everyone around you that you were to be a father, and that the woman that practically haunted your waking and sleeping hours was to be the mother of your child.
Instead, he'd only covered the basics like reading from a bullet-pointed list.
If his inability to say anything that he was thinking in a way that didn't sound like a ship-wide report on the fact that Beverly was pregnant and he was the father had hurt Beverly's feelings, she hadn't made it known in any way. Instead, when people began to congratulate them, she'd been all smiles in accepting the offered affection.
Jean-Luc noticed, quickly, that people's responses to him were very different than their responses to her.
He received handshakes, a few well-meaning slaps on the back, and a healthy dose of half-friendly and half-passive-aggressive warnings that his whole life would change entirely, if not come to some kind of catastrophic end, in the coming days and months. The women that congratulated him seemed somewhat shy, and they tossed only "congratulations, Captain" at him as they passed in what felt like a never-ending assembly line of people.
In contrast, people seemed far more anxious to touch Beverly—the women, especially. Jean-Luc overheard a lot of congratulations, quite a few warnings and wives' tales, and a number of declarations that someone knew or expected this. He heard a few criticisms of this or that—her work schedule, her weight, or anything else that, honestly, he thought was nobody's business. At the moment, however, everyone thought it was their business—partly owing to the fact that they'd asked for this to be informal.
As the evening wore on, and waves of people came through to offer their congratulations, Jean-Luc started to see the "celebration" of it all wearing on Beverly. Her smile became strained, and that strain showed on her face. Something in her eyes almost started to look caged.
He wasn't surprised, then, when Deanna Troi approached him and asked for a moment of his time. He followed her to the most secluded corner that they could easily reach.
"Captain—Doctor Crusher is feeling very overwhelmed," Deanna said. "And—tired." She pressed her fingers to her temple, a clear sign that she was trying to read Beverly over every other invading presence in her mind, but also that she was feeling a little overwhelmed herself. "She is irritated, but it's more…irritable than genuinely angry."
"She's tired of being touched," Jean-Luc said. He laughed to himself. Deanna nodded. "I can sense it myself."
"Very much so," Deanna said. "I'm feeling the need to close my mind to her, Captain. I thought you should know that it may be becoming difficult for her to maintain decorum."
"Thank you, Counselor," he said. "What should I do?"
"It may have been a little overzealous to try to greet the entire crew and passenger complement of the ship in a few hours," Deanna offered. "I would recommend ending things as quickly as you can, Captain. Perhaps—make an announcement that you will both be thrilled to receive other congratulations and well wishes at future times. You might offer Doctor Crusher the opportunity to go somewhere removed and quiet, Captain."
Jean-Luc squeezed Deanna's arm as a physical thanks. He realized that he, too, was feeling a bit over-touched, and he'd only had a few handshakes and pats on the back. It was nothing in comparison to the almost constant barrage of hands that seemed to be reaching in Beverly's direction to make contact with her in one way or another.
"Certainly. Thank you, Counselor Troi, for making me aware."
Jean-Luc headed back in the direction of the spot of "honor" where he'd left Beverly to attend to everyone that seemed to somehow still be pouring in from every nook and cranny of the Enterprise. Jean-Luc had always known how large their ship was, but he was only just truly realizing the multitude of people aboard.
He touched his combadge to access the channel that was open and waiting for him.
"Attention, everyone, this is your captain speaking. I have immensely appreciated the outpouring of support and affection shown by everyone, and I know that Doctor Crusher feels the same. We both sincerely look forward to sharing this journey with you, and we look forward to receiving all the additional support that I'm sure you will be offering us in the months to come. At this time, however, we are calling an end to the evening for some much-needed rest for the doctor, our little one, and myself. We invite you to continue to celebrate and enjoy the food and drinks, and we thank you for everything."
Without discussion, and only hoping that she wouldn't mind one last overload of touch, Jean-Luc reached Beverly and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her tight against him in an effort to physically shield her from affection, well-wishes, and even criticisms. He smiled at everyone still seeming to close in around them, and he ignored the fact that the crowd was, without a doubt, a little suffocating. He didn't want to look like he was in the middle of a rescue mission, but he certainly felt like that was the case.
As casually as he could possibly do so, Jean-Luc kept Beverly wrapped in his arms and escorted her through the crowd and toward the exit, using his body as something of a shield to deflect anyone who might be trying to offer some last-minute show of affection and physical support.
Beverly was laughing by the time that he released her on the turbolift, and the laugh was musical, and beautiful, and contagious. Jean-Luc laughed with her, and he was thankful for this beautiful, wonderful woman for making laugh when he'd spent most of the day feeling entirely overwhelmed.
She fell back against the wall of the turbolift, breathing visibly heavily.
"Oh—God—thank you for ending that!" She declared.
"I'm sorry I let it go on for so long!" Jean-Luc responded. "I should have realized that it would be too much to plan for a few hours of greeting everyone."
"It wasn't the greeting that was so bad," Beverly said. "I mean—I am thankful that everyone at least seemed to take the news well…"
"You must feel absolutely overwhelmed with touch," Jean-Luc said.
"That's what it is," Beverly admitted. "It was just too much at once. I'm actually a little sore."
When the turbolift doors opened, Beverly stepped out. Jean-Luc noticed a slight limp to her gait.
"Are you alright?" He asked.
She laughed, limping slowly down the corridor. He matched pace with her.
"It's my new boots," she said. "I shouldn't have tried to break them in by standing in them for so long. You were right. The cure is worse, in this case. I should have kept my old ones on for the evening."
Jean-Luc instinctively reached for her and, sliding his arm around her, he offered her support. His hand closed around her, and he flexed his fingers, aware of what it felt like to hold her in his arms again. His pulse instinctively picked up.
"I hope that—I'm not overwhelming you more by touching you," he said.
Beverly hummed, and he looked at her. He didn't dare to try to read her expression.
"Not in a bad way, Jean-Luc," she said. "Never in a bad way." She rested her arm over him, making it clear that she appreciated the little bit of help he was giving her in limping back to her quarters with less than her full weight on her feet.
"Are you saying…" Jean-Luc started.
"That you overwhelm me? Yes. That's exactly what I'm saying. But—always in a way that I enjoy…at least eventually."
She laughed quietly, but Jean-Luc could barely focus on the teasing over the meaning behind the words. When they reached her quarters, Jean-Luc opened the door. He helped her directly to the sofa, where she sat. He sat, too, and gathered her legs up and across his lap. She rearranged a pillow behind her back, and Jean-Luc started the work of removing her boots.
"You don't have to do that, Jean-Luc," she protested.
"I am perfectly aware," he offered. Freeing her feet from the offending boots that he dropped to the side, he held one of her feet in his hands. "If you'd rather not be touched…"
"I never mind being touched by you," Beverly said.
Jean-Luc wondered if her pulse felt as rapid as his own. He wondered if her mind felt as busy, and if she was sorting through the same collection of thoughts, trying to decide what should be said and what should be kept inside for the time being.
He focused his attention on rubbing her feet, and he did his best to ignore the way that he felt when she snuggled down deeper into the couch, clearly getting comfortable, and moaned out her approval of his probably-less-than-stellar massage technique.
"I am glad that we told everyone," Jean-Luc offered, keeping his voice low because something in him felt that they ought to preserve the sanctity of this quiet moment.
"Me too," Beverly said, her eyes closed. She laughed quietly. "There were quite a few people that I hadn't told I was pregnant, and they said that—they could tell. Apparently, I should replicate a larger uniform to go with my bigger boots." She sighed, but it was a restful sort of sigh. "I knew that it was getting tight, but I didn't realize that it was that obvious."
"You should absolutely replicate something for more comfort," Jean-Luc said. "But—don't let the changes to your body be anything that puts you off from providing for…" He stopped and hesitated. He could think it. He could say it, sometimes. Other times, though, the reality of everything seemed to truly hit him. "Don't let that be something that…puts you off from providing for our baby."
Beverly opened her eyes and smiled softly at him. His heart, surely on the verge of wearing itself out today, drummed hard in his chest. He wanted so badly to say to her something along the lines of what she'd said to him the night they'd created their child—maybe we'd be more comfortable elsewhere.
Beverly reached her hand out to him and he took her hand, leaving the other to continue its work on her aching feet. She squeezed his hand.
"You don't have to worry," she said. "There's nothing anyone could ever say to me to make me hurt our baby in any way. I promise you that."
When she let go of his hand and relaxed back into her position, Jean-Luc extended his hand and tentatively rested it over her stomach. Her uniform was tighter than it had been before. Daring to touch her, Jean-Luc's chest ached to focus on the reality of it all.
Beverly smiled softly and moved his hand with hers, a little further down her body, before resting her hand over his and patting it.
"The baby is more here, Jean-Luc," Beverly said. "Maybe—the size of my fist or a little smaller."
Jean-Luc brought his other hand over and caught hers, so that he could leave his hand resting over the spot she'd identified for him. He squeezed her hand, turning it over in his to look at the size of it. Sensing what he was looking at, she laughed quietly and balled up her fist. Jean-Luc ran his thumb over her hand. He caught her eyes and held them, not that she tried to break their connection in any way.
"And here you are," he mused. "Probably still overwhelmed by touch…and yet, I just can't seem to stop myself."
"Then…don't, Jean-Luc," Beverly said simply, leaving the suggestion up to Jean-Luc to interpret.