AN: Here we are, another chapter! Thank you to those of you who gave me name suggestions. I'm sorry that I couldn't use all of them (though maybe I'll use them for the next little Picard ;-) LOL).

I hope you enjoy! If you do, please let me know!

111

"It looks like she's already looking for what she wants," Dr. Moran said, her voice carrying a great deal of what sounded like genuine affection for the newly-born Picard.

Genevieve Yvette Felisa Picard—simply their Evie, where her birth certificate wasn't in consideration—was absolutely perfect. The young Evie Picard had been cleaned, cared for, and examined, and she'd passed her examination with flying colors, though not without at least a little complaint that testified to her possession of strong lungs. She'd been returned to her mother's bare chest and open arms, now that Beverly's needs had also been taken care of for the time being.

Evie came in at the heavyweight of six pounds and five ounces. With a dusting of red-blonde hair and dark blue eyes that they told him would likely change, at least a little, with time, she was beautiful and Jean-Luc doubted that opinion could be attributed to any sort of bias on his part. After all, he wasn't one who generally thought of children—and especially not newborns—as beautiful.

Seeing that Beverly had been cleaned up and cared for, that she was now resting on the biobed until they could return to their quarters, and seeing that she once again had possession of their daughter, Jean-Luc felt like he could breathe freely and easily once more. They were both healthy. They were both OK.

Jean-Luc could breathe.

Evie was rooting at her mother's chest in search of something, and Beverly's attention was focused on the baby. A calmness had settled over Beverly that practically radiated out into the room. Jean-Luc felt relaxed and sleepy simply being near her.

Everything was exactly what it should be. Everything was peaceful and wonderful for a moment.

"Do you need any help nursing?" Dr. Moran asked Beverly. Now that she'd done all the examining and healing that she clearly planned to do for a little while, Jean-Luc noticed she was keeping just a little distance. He sensed it was almost something primal—as this whole experience had felt to him. She was offering help, but she was also keeping her distance until she was invited into Beverly's space.

Beverly hummed softly in the negative. It seemed to Jean-Luc that the baby had, with the help of her mother, already found what she sought. Beverly sighed, and Jean-Luc felt the sigh in his own body. His back and shoulders relaxed. It almost felt difficult to remain standing at her side with so much sudden desire to simply lie down and close his eyes for a moment—perhaps on the biobed with Beverly, where he could wrap his arms around them both and sleep secure in their presence, safety, and well-being.

"She hasn't met her Papa yet," Beverly said suddenly and a little mournfully. She looked at Jean-Luc with tired eyes. For the first time since Evie had been born, there was sadness in her eyes. It tugged at Jean-Luc's heart.

Jean-Luc understood what she was saying. He hadn't held their baby girl yet, not in the whirlwind of everything that had been taking place to make sure that Beverly and Evie were both healthy, clean, cared for, and prepared to rest and build their strength for the requisite amount of time necessary to earn them all an exciting family trip to their quarters.

Jean-Luc rested his hand on Beverly's shoulder and squeezed affectionately. To try to further still her concerns and remove the sadness from her eyes, he placed his hand gently over hers as she touched their daughter, who had very little concern, at the moment, for meeting anyone besides her mother.

Jean-Luc smiled at the tiny—because she seemed incredibly, unbelievably tiny—infant, and then he smiled at Beverly.

"I would not deny her what she needs or wants from you for even a moment, Beverly," Jean-Luc said. "I see her, and Evie and I will have a great deal of time in which to become familiar with one another. I am not concerned, in any way, that she will somehow fail to know who her Papa is because we simply wait a few more moments to begin becoming more intimately acquainted."

Beverly smiled at him. She looked tired, but the happiness returned to her eyes. Jean-Luc leaned and pressed his lips to her forehead. He closed his eyes and lingered there a moment, his throat and chest tight, as he let the thankfulness he felt rush through him. When he pulled away, Beverly's eyes were closed, too, but she opened them and renewed her smile.

"She already knows you," Beverly said. "She knows your voice, Jean-Luc. She's soothed by it, even now. She's heard her Papa all along."

The ache inside of him intensified, and Jean-Luc found that all he could do was offer a smile—the best that the ache would allow him to muster—and to nod at Beverly. After some of the tightness relaxed, he cleared his throat.

"Please, Beverly, feed her, and allow me to simply be present for the time being."

Beverly nodded and turned her attention to the baby girl. Jean-Luc watched them. The Madonna, a mother—an image captured a thousand times in word, song, and every other artistic medium known to man—and yet it had never seemed quite so precious to him, in such a distinct manner, as it did at this very moment, while he watched his beloved wife care for their first-born child.

Jean-Luc felt blessed, practically dizzy, and overwhelmed in ways that made his body buzz and feel numb all at once. He felt exalted and terrified in ways that were incomparable to anything he'd ever done or experienced before.

He was a father. And, though he wasn't entirely comfortable in that role just yet, and though he and Evie had yet to be quite formally introduced, he knew that he would do anything—anything—to make sure that she had the best life that he possibly could.

111

"Jean-Luc," Beverly said, drawing his name out and simultaneously cutting it short in a way that was, in Jean-Luc's opinion, practically unique to Beverly.

They had just gotten back to their quarters after a very slow walk from sickbay. Beverly had insisted that she felt well enough to go home, and she'd insisted that she would recover best there, where she could nurture her baby and care for herself in comfort and privacy. Dr. Moran had teasingly offered a few quips about there being nobody in the galaxy more hardheaded than a doctor, but she'd ultimately agreed that Beverly was well enough to go back to their quarters.

Beverly had refused to be transported in any way, other than by her own two feet, but she had at least acquiesced to Jean-Luc's somewhat supporting her as she walked and carried their baby girl.

In the corridors, several people had craned their necks to get a look at the baby, but nobody had been overly obvious about it, and nobody had stopped them to ask if they might get more than a slight glimpse of the baby. They respected, it seemed, Beverly's right to choose when and how she introduced the baby to the crew.

In their quarters, Jean-Luc had gotten Beverly settled on the sofa in their living quarters—the space where she insisted that she would feel most comfortable for the time being—and he was considering what she might need to actually be comfortable and provided for while she rested there.

"I'm afraid that—I don't know what all you will require," Jean-Luc said. "If you will instruct me, however, I'll bring you whatever you desire. Something to eat and drink, I'm sure. And…whatever it is that you think Evie will need."

"Jean-Luc," Beverly repeated.

Jean-Luc's pulse kicked up, merely at the tone of her voice. Her expression was something of a half-smile, but it made him inexplicably nervous.

"I can call for Wesley," Jean-Luc said. "Deanna, too, if you'd like. I'm not sure who you would like to see…or if you'd like to wait a while. Dr. Moran said that you should rest, but she also said that you were free to do what you feel up to doing."

"Jean-Luc!" Beverly said, this time with a touch more bite and finality to her tone than she'd used before. Evie made a noise, clearly expressing her dislike of her mother's tone. Beverly soothed her quickly and easily.

"Beverly…" Jean-Luc said, doing his best to ignore the practical palpitations he felt and the slightly shaky quality of every muscle in his body. He wished for a command from her—something concrete that he could do—to feel that he was being useful. "Please—do tell me what you need. What you want…"

She simply smiled at him. She patted the seat next to her.

"Jean-Luc, what I want is for you to sit down and meet your daughter," Beverly said. "I know you're nervous, but…I promise she's very sweet. She won't even bite and, if she does, she's not in possession of any teeth."

Jean-Luc laughed quietly at her teasing.

"You seem so at ease with each other," he said.

"Jean-Luc, come here," Beverly said softly. She patted the seat again, as though he were a small child.

He sat. He wanted to pretend that he wasn't nervous at all. He wanted to pretend that she'd read him wrong, but she was reading him even now. He wasn't going to lie to her. He felt entirely unnerved, and that amused him. He laughed at the thought, and Beverly laughed, too, as though she were suddenly at least a touch telepathic.

"Here, Papa—hold your arms like this," Beverly said.

"I am not entirely inept with children," Jean-Luc said.

"Of course, you aren't," Beverly said. "I was only trying to help, not to patronize."

"I assure you that I am not at all genuinely offended," he said with a smile and a wink in Beverly's direction. As the baby was placed in his arms, he tried to focus on everything at once—his breathing, his tension, the position of the baby, her comfort...

"Relax, Jean-Luc," Beverly said gently. "She's OK. You're both doing wonderfully." The baby whined and tensed. "Just relax. She'll respond to you."

Jean-Luc drew in a breath and forced himself to relax. He reminded himself that he was fully capable of handling this. Evie was his daughter. Surely, there was some natural instinct that would mean that he was practically hard-wired to care for her and to do so properly. Beverly's hand on his shoulder was comforting. Her other hand was busy touching their daughter with light, soothing touches. Jean-Luc relaxed a little more. He had the odd, unexpected thought that Beverly was on his side. She wanted him to succeed at being a father, in every possible way, and he felt like her support was really all he needed. After all, he already had the desire to succeed at this as much, if not more, than he'd desired success in any other aspect of his life.

As he settled into his seat a bit more comfortably, and as he changed his hold slightly on the baby, she seemed to relax a little, too. She was trying quite hard to sleep, and she settled into that activity as Jean-Luc breathed out a sigh and let go of most of his remaining tension—a small amount lingering, despite his best efforts.

"She feels very light, and very fragile," Jean-Luc said. He smiled at the baby before looking at Beverly. She was smiling, leaning near him.

"She'll grow very soon," Beverly said. "And babies are far more resilient than they seem."

"She looks a great deal like her mother," Jean-Luc said.

Beverly's smiled renewed itself.

"I think she looks like you," Beverly said.

"Not in the least," Jean-Luc said with a laugh. "In fact, if I didn't know any better, I might question my contribution to her existence."

"Don't even tease about that, Jean-Luc," Beverly warned. There was enough warning in her tone that he knew she meant it.

"I'm sorry," he assured her. "I wasn't being sincere. At least, I wasn't being entirely sincere. She does have most of your features, and very few of mine." Beverly frowned. Jean-Luc reminded himself that his wife had only just given birth a few hours ago. "That's hardly a critique of Evie or your work in creating her and giving her life," he added with a laugh.

"You were involved in that, too, as I remember it," Beverly said.

Jean-Luc leaned toward her and she understood what he wanted. She met him for a kiss. It was soft, and sweet, and he appreciated it as much as he could any kiss.

"I think that—it is my prerogative, as Evie's father, to make a few decisions around here for the good of my family."

"Oh?" Beverly asked.

Jean-Luc smiled.

"Indeed," he said, nodding his head. "You are tired, Beverly, as is to be expected. I believe that, while Evie and I have a short period of getting to know one another, you should close your eyes and, if you can't sleep, at least rest. In a little while, we'll invite Wesley and anyone else that you'd like to bring here to meet Evie. In the meantime, I'd like the chance to talk to my daughter a bit, while her mother rests."

"You'll wake me if you need me?" Beverly asked.

Jean-Luc laughed sincerely.

"My love, I have all ideas that, should Evie and I need you, there will be no way you'll be able to sleep through our necessity," Jean-Luc teased. Beverly laughed in response.

And Jean-Luc's heart started beating quickly again—not because he was nervous, but because he was excited at the prospect of all that was to come.