Trigger warning: Mentions of domestic abuse/assault. Please skip to second scene starting with "Holodeck B... if you wish to completely skip over the triggers.

Captain's Quarters, U.S.S. Longbourn: Stardate 2275.309 at 1031 hours

Tap. Tap tap. Tap.

Lizzie's fingers beat out an irregular rhythm on top of a PADD- a desperate gesture to distract herself from clutching at her temples. Her headache was fierce, but she could already imagine her mother's sarcastic barb if she tried rubbing the pain away in view of the screen.

Oh, I'm sorry Elizabeth, am I annoying you?

The first time her father had asked her mother to be a guest speaker for one of his classes she had been flattered, which was no surprise as her mother loved the occasional spotlight. Apparently, though, the last time she had stood in front of the grad students one of them had asked some... insulting questions, and since then her mother had refused to go back to the university. Lizzie's father had once again requested her mother's presence in his classroom, hence the current rant.

"...and I just know those students are judging me! They think they're better than me, I can tell! And don't get me started on your father, I cannot believe he has the nerve to ask me after what happened last time. He did nothing while that little twerp sat there and talked down to me..."

Lizzie tried frequently in the last ten or so minutes to interject- to defend her father or just to offer some sympathy- but had to settle for a "hmm" noise every few seconds since her mother apparently didn't require any sort of input from her. She also didn't appear to require any sort of breath, since she had been going nonstop since the call had connected.

It had been several years since she had seen her parents in person, but her mother looked the same as she always did; blonde hair perfectly curled, makeup expertly applied, her clothes spotless. Her appearance had always been an armor of sorts, a way to defend and separate herself from her past. One of her mother's hands waved about the air in agitation while the other worried at her necklace, a thin silver chain with a small cross on it. The necklace was the only remnant from her old life, and she had a tendency to wear it when she was particularly stressed... so most of the time, since she mother reveled in drama.

This was the third (fourth?) time Lizzie had been subjected to this particular conversation, so she allowed her mind to wander a little bit to the PADD beneath her fingers. She had been reading up on Vulcans, information she thought especially pertinent given her guests at the moment, but hadn't gotten very far before she received an incoming call from her home. Unfortunately her father had picked that morning to ask his wife for that particular favor, and Lizzie was going to hear about it whether she wanted to or not.

Lizzie's patience was wearing thin though, as her mother began to repeat her protestations. She did actually have things to do. "Have you tried calling Jane or Mary?" She already knew the answer; her mother always went to Jane for advice first, which was fair enough.

Breezing over the interruption, Mrs. Bennet answered tightly, "Jane thinks it would be cathartic for me. She also said that since my young adulthood was unique-"

Lizzie would've described her mother's late teenage years more along the lines of awful and barbaric, but she could probably recognize that Jane's delicate verbiage was better suited to the situation. She could almost hear her sister's soft lectures on empathetic wording and the difficulty of reversing coercive persuasion.

"-that it would be beneficial for your father's students if they understood how to take care of somebody coming from my situation, but that I shouldn't feel pressured."

Nicely put, Jane.

"And Mary?" Lizzie asked when her mother didn't add any more information.

Mrs. Bennet scoffed. "You know what it's like trying to get anything out of your sister- like pulling teeth."

Humming noncommittally, Lizzie didn't say that it took Mary years to learn that in their household her brand of blunt honesty was unwelcome. Better to coat things in icing around their mother than to offer up a dry treat. It was one of the qualities Lizzie loved about Mary, but her mother and younger sisters found off-putting about the middle child. Eventually Mary had become quiet and withdrawn around certain family members, and had stayed that way well into her adulthood.

"Well?" Mrs. Bennet asked impatiently.

"Well, what?" Lizzie responded in the same tone, secretly hating that her mother could bring out the childish side of her so very easily.

Her mother threw her hands in the air. "What do you think I should do?"

A breathy laugh escaped her, but there was no glee in it. "Why are we even having this conversation, Mom? You act like you want our opinions, but you already know what you want to do. It's not as if anything we say is going to change your mind-" Lizzie stopped abruptly as a snippet of an earlier conversation with Charlotte flitted through her head... you are the most stubborn person I know... and for a moment it felt like she couldn't breathe. She tapped slowly on the PADD again, and suddenly the thought of walking outside of her quarters and acting like she was a member of an evolved, flawless race of human species was exhausting.

Starfleet was an organization dedicated to protecting the universe; here she was having a conversation about how Earth couldn't even protect its own citizens.

"Look, Mom," the captain finally gave in and started rubbing at her temples, "you got married way too young, and then were abused, gaslighted, and isolated by your ex- spouse. And thankfully that kind of thing in our society is a rarity these days, so it's not as if there are a lot of guest speakers to choose from. Yes, telling your experiences to a group of future psychologists may help them understand how to help domestic violence victims later in their careers, if they ever meet any. But you don't owe anybody anything, including dad. He's simply asking because you used to enjoy public speaking. Do it, don't do it; the choice is yours."

Lizzie glanced back at the screen to find her mother frowning at her. "Are you okay, Elizabeth? You look tired."

Her daughter almost rolled her eyes at the expected comment. Did she pay attention to anything she just said? "I'm just a little stressed, Mom. This job is demanding."

She left a lot unsaid. She hadn't been expecting this amount of politics in this position. Her nightmares were making sleep nonexistent. Sometimes the memories of Denobula made it hard to breathe.

Her mother paused and leaned back in her chair thoughtfully, once again twirling her necklace between her fingers. "Did I ever tell you how I finally got the nerve to leave that man?"

The captain blinked several times in surprise. Lizzie knew objectively that her mother would discuss her abuse experiences with her father and his students when she felt like it, but she very rarely divulged the explicit memories with her daughters. For the first 13 or so years of her life, Lizzie was ignorant of the basic outline of her mother's past, until her father sat her down one day to explain why her mother wasn't quite like the others around. It was also a complete shock to find out that Jane, the sister she felt an unbreakable bond to, was only her half-sibling. With their wholly different complexions, maybe she should've been expecting it, but the news still felt like it had come out of nowhere.

Marie Bennet would monologue about the dirty look the neighbor gave her earlier that morning for ten minutes, would explain in detail the plot of her favorite soap opera around their dinner table, would ask question after question about their school activities, but never once talked about her first husband. It was as if she didn't want her daughters to be tainted by association.

"No, Mom, you never told us that story."

Her mother was unusually subdued as she looked off into the distance. "He used to call me a worthless bitch, a useless cunt, tell me I couldn't do anything right. I had to use the dermal regenerator constantly just to avoid questions the few times I was allowed to leave the house. I was 19 when I found out I was pregnant. I prayed for a boy. I thought maybe that would actually make him happy. When they told me it was a girl I started sobbing, right there in the exam room. The doctor was so confused. That night I went home, and all I could think about was what if he treats this little girl like he treats me. I left that night with nothing on my back except the clothes I was wearing. I didn't want to get accused of stealing, and of course I owned nothing. I found a shelter, several towns away, and they helped me set up the necessary legal protections."

Her mother was a demonstrative person. Her affection was persistent, and often smothering. She cried tears of happiness when her daughters graduated high school. She cried that one time Kitty fractured her arm falling out of the tree in their front yard as kids, until Kitty herself had to console her.

Therefore it alarmed her daughter a little that she told the whole story as if it happened to someone else. Her face was blank, except for the barest expression of pity.

"I met your father there, you know."

Stunned, for the second time in her life at the new influx of familial information, Lizzie was speechless. How did she never wonder at how her parents met?

"He was doing one of his clinic rotations there. Of course, we didn't date for another year or so. I was still pregnant with Jane and every day I had to convince myself not to return home, which now seems insane, but back then was really hard on me. How he hated those rotations. You know how your father always enjoyed the academic over the practical. It's your sister who's the natural empath; your father never had the inclination for it."

Her mother cleared her throat. "I'm getting off track here. My point is, it wasn't an easy decision to leave. If I never got pregnant, chances are I'd still be in that house, miserable and blaming myself for my situation. I left because I didn't want my children to live like I did- to think they were lesser beings like I did. And it still happened! You have no idea how much I patted myself on my back because you girls weren't beaten like I was. And I was so focused on that I didn't realized until you all were practically grown how much I was the one keeping you down. I'm so, so sorry I did that. I'm your mother, I shouldn't have been the one to try to hold you back."

Relief flowed through her when her mother began to show actual emotion again. Never did Lizzie think there would be a day she would be so comforted by the sight of her mom crying, but here it was. Lizzie felt her throat tighten in an effort to stop sympathetic tears from forming as her mother continued. "I thought the world would tear you all down like it did me; I just wanted you to be prepared. I'm terrified that three of my daughters are on a ship in space! Things happen all the time in Starfleet! But I am incredibly happy that your life is so much more different than mine was. I would go through everything a thousand times again if it turned out the same way."

Lizzie couldn't help the slight sniffling that left her at her mother's declaration. "You shouldn't worry about it too much, Mom. Mostly I just thought you were weird." A wet laugh escaped Mrs. Bennet, but Lizzie continued on. "If anything I owe a lot of my ambition to you. Proving myself to you, trying to spite your outdated ideas was a lot of the reason I pushed myself so hard growing up. Don't feel guilty over being a survivor, even if it left you with some scars."

Her mother started to reply, but they both paused at the sound of her door chime. "Hold on, mom, let me call you back."

"Don't worry about it today, honey. I need to talk to your father anyways. Stay safe, love you."

"Love you too," Lizzie replied before shutting off her computer monitor and walking toward the door. Although, as a captain, Lizzie was always prepared for a crew member to stop by, she was still shocked by the sight of the miserable Vulcan on the other side.

"May I come in?"

Holodeck B, U.S.S. Longbourn: Stardate 2275.309 at 1003 hours (28 minutes earlier)

Darcy paused, the words hesitant to even his own ears as he eyes darted around his sister guiltily. "Well... it is a version of the captain."

"Don't you get all semantical on me, Will. Why is there a version of the captain in your holodeck program?" Georgiana questioned shrilly. She glanced behind herself to confirm the doors to the holodeck were indeed closed before turning a confused scowl on her brother.

Another pause. "The program is not for anything inappropriate."

"Well, I didn't think it was, but your avoidance of the question is suspicious," Georgiana retorted, the shock at the situation making her more accusatory than normal. Honestly, it was hard to maintain a cool exterior when the very last thing she expected to walk in on was her brother chatting up a hologram of his boss.

It probably wasn't against Starfleet regulations to interact with a facsimile of a superior officer, but it would certainly look, at the very least, bizarre to any other officers. Her brother, for all his intelligence and worldliness, was often confused by humans. Even after years of living in San Francisco, he would ask for her input on the behavior of his colleagues. She felt just as protective of him as he did of her, and therefore felt the need to explain how dangerous this was to his career.

Darcy was quick to defend himself. "It is for practice."

"Practice," his sister parroted, sarcasm dripping from her words. She couldn't help but glance at the captain, the only person in the room even remotely calm.

Well... the term 'person' wouldn't exactly be correct, would it?

At the thought, Georgiana felt her knees go a little weak. She quickly grabbed one of the empty chairs, the iron legs loudly scraping against the floor of the holodeck as she dragged it out to collapse onto the seat. A part of her mind noted the intricate floral design of the table and matching chairs, the delicate design an odd choice for an otherwise sterile looking room.

She turned toward her brother, trying to ignore the way the hologram's eyes followed the movement. "What do you mean, practice?" She was already nervous about her planned conversation with her brother; to walk into this situation left her completely unsettled. She tried to withhold any advice until he answered, but as the seconds went on her patience, something she always had in abundance, was wearing thin.

Darcy looked toward the hologram.

The difference between the perpetually animated captain and her facsimile in front of them wasn't immediately obvious. The hazel shades of her eyes, the curly mass of hair, the button nose- all features were accurate only like technology could be. But it was as if someone had taken a picture and made it 3 dimensional; while the appearance and cadence of her voice were spot-on, it was a hollow replica. The eyes were always blank, her hair never bounced around like it often did when the captain was passionate about a topic, her hands never waved around wildly to emphasize a point. This version never jokingly called the holodeck the 'room of requirement', which he only understood after reading several older fictional texts. Even the ever present smell of the artificial vanilla from her hair products was absent. The hologram was a mere shade, and in Darcy's completely valid scientific opinion, an absolute shitty replacement.

"If you wanted practice, there's hundreds of other humans on this ship- real humans, mind you, not holograms. Including James and Charles, your best friends! Why Captain Bennet?" he could hear his sister ask.

"Because," Darcy murmured softly, sliding his right hand up to rest next to the hologram's, "she's the best example humanity has to offer." His index finger hovered, as if he were going to brush against the outside of her palm, before aborting the movement to slowly stand up.

For the first time in her life, Georgiana saw her brother not as the rigid and perfectly rational being that he worked so hard to be, but as a vulnerable and fallible person. During their infrequent chats, she had suspected that Will had a crush- perhaps peppered in with a little hero worship- on the captain, but in that second it struck her. The amount of yearning in that single gesture was practically palpable.

Her brother was in love. A messy- and let's be honest here, probably a little unrequited if the hologram is any indication- love.

She objectively knew he could one day form an attachment to another person, but didn't want to get her hopes up for something that could never happen. People sometimes went their entire lives without sexual or romantic relationships, and they could still have a fulfilling existence. He was also a child of two worlds, and she knew that would make the process extra challenging.

A crush could be dismissed, brushed aside, meditated away. Love was more persistent, might lead to something more. Georgiana could admit to bias, she thought her brother was a fairly great person. If he actually tried, the captain would be foolish not to return his feelings. Tonight she could subtly broach the subject, try to get a read on the situation, help her brother in any way she could. For the first time, Georgiana felt hope.

Her brother gently encouraged her to stand before announcing "end program" to the holodeck. The hologram and table disappeared, and the siblings sat cross legged on the cold floor, the meditation poses coming easily to them despite the unusually frigid atmosphere.

"Please do not mention the program to the captain. She has been understandably skittish about clones since a being of unknown origin invaded the ship and commandeered her position."

"I'm sorry, what?!" his sister sputtered. Was she in the twilight zone? She had been expecting to have an uncomfortable conversation with her brother, but the whole last ten minutes had been one shock after another.

"It is a long story. What did you wish to speak about?" her brother asked.

Georgiana allowed the subject change, mentally filing away all the information she had learned to be examined later. She cleared her throat once, twice, before deciding just to dive in. She already knew exactly how her sibling would react to this particular bit of information- it's why she waited until they were face-to-face. It was the perfect opportunity, and even though at first he might be upset she knew he would eventually see reason.

He always did. It was kind of the Vulcan's shtick.

"As you are aware, T'Hain and I have our bonding ceremony next year."

Will placed his hand over her sleeve, and Georgiana could feel their long dormant familial bond flutter in the back of her head. A feeling she had always associated with her parents and brother, a sort of domestic warmth. "I would just like to reiterate how delighted I am for you both." Although the words did not come easy to him, as steeped in feelings as they were, they were uttered assuredly.

"I know, brother. But I thought you would also like to know that- not immediately of course, since we're still so young- we've discussed it thoroughly, and in the next couple of years or so we're going to start seeing fertility specialists."

Will's hand slipped away, folding in his lap as his face became a blank slate. "I do not understand."

But his sister was too familiar with him to take his words for their face value. He did understand; he just didn't want to.

"It took mother and father years to become pregnant with you, so we really only have a tentative timeline mapped out. We both want to be parents more than anything. T'Hain has a brother willing to donate genetic material. And the best thing is there will be another hybrid, just like you in our family. Will," Georgiana said, reaching out in desperation as her brother became more and more withdrawn, "you won't be alone anymore."

Georgiana looked at him as if- as if this was good news, and not his worst nightmare come to life. As if he should be congratulating her instead of mourning her.

His heart began to beat against his chest uncomfortably.

"Slow breaths. In. Out," a voice that suspiciously sounded like the captain seemed to whisper in his ear. But for the second time in his life, his body wasn't following his commands. Instead his breathing continued to speed up.

His hands snapped back, and she looked up in confusion at the abrupt movement. "I have to admit, I miscalculated the direction this conversation was going." The statement was a last attempt at a calm discussion.

"Well," Georgiana barked shrilly, stiffly gesturing to their surroundings, which no longer included the hologram, "I guess we're all being surprised here."

"How could you possible think this was an intelligent idea? The immunosuppressants that our mother took to sustain her pregnancy with me were what weakened her vascular structures- were what eventually lead to her death. You could not have possibly thought you would have my support on this." Darcy couldn't seem to control the volume of his voice. He tried in vain to lower it to his usual calm levels, but the longer he spoke the louder he became.

Frustratingly enough, his sister had no such problem when responding; she had clearly prepared for his reaction. "Obviously T'Hain and I have considered this issue. The doctors in charge of our mother's treatment were not well versed in human anatomy; we will not have that issue. It's not as if we're going to start trying tomorrow. We have years to look up alternative medications and years to consult specialists. Don't you want another human-Vulcan hybrid in the universe?"

"Not at the expense of the only family I have left!"

Georgiana rarely heard her brother raise his voice as an adult. Even the situation with Wickham, as angry as he had been, had left him quiet. She was still reeling when he grabbed her shoulders and lowered his gaze to stare desperately into her eyes. "Please, Georgiana, I am begging you to reconsider. Please do not do this."

"Will, I..." Georgiana was still staring at her brother in shock when he stood up and started gathering his composure once more. Shutters were drawn, and his arms were once more placed behind his back.

"Forgive me, I find myself emotionally compromised. I will go meditate." Without waiting for an acknowledgment from his sibling, Darcy left the room in a brisk walk.

Darcy wandered the halls of the U.S.S. Longbourn. For the Vulcan, wandering was a novel experience. Leaving a place without a destination in mind wasn't simply what he did. But for the first time in his life he was aware that meditation was going to be insufficient.

He needed a plan. Or preferably plans. Multiple plans, with backup plans.

As the thoughts circulated around his head, Darcy neglected to notice his hand coming up to tug at the back of his hair in distress. A passing ensign stared in bewilderment at the gesture, and almost missed the corner she was supposed to turn at.

Maybe if he recovered his mother's medical and autopsy records he could conclusively prove to his sister that her idea was ridiculous. If he recruited James to his side first, his cousin could help him to convince their relative of her insanity. Or possibly getting James involved would backfire; after all James was a sentimental creature, and there was a 88.9% chance that Georgiana could sway him to her way of thinking. Perhaps he should appeal directly to T'Hain. He was not very familiar with her, but T'Hain was Vulcan, and therefore presumably disposed to see the rationality of his view.

He should be going to his room to meditate, but for the first time in his life he wanted to explore the option of 'talking out' his problems with a friend.

Perhaps being surrounded by humans day in and day out had affected him more than he previously believed.

Nevertheless he rifled through his options in his head. James would want to bring Georgiana back into the conversation, and Darcy didn't believe discussing it with his sister further at the moment was sensible. Charles, while always sympathetic to his friend's issues, was still a little glum after his temporary separation from Jane. And, to be perfectly candid with himself, he didn't really want to speak to anyone else but the captain.

It seemed his subconscious must have known this, because when he looked up he was at the door to the captain's quarters.

Lizzie ushered her distraught second-in-command toward her couch. Darcy moved in that direction, even as he debated leaving the room completely. Three days ago, this woman had been rejecting him. Surely she did not want to hear about his problems.

Even as he thought this, his captain fretted over him. "What's wrong, Darcy? Are you sick? Do you want me to call Mary?"

Opening his mouth to reply, Darcy had to pause to formulate a response. The longer he hesitated, the more worried Lizzie grew. She moved to sit on the couch, sweeping one leg underneath her and turning to pat the space next to her.

The commander cleared his throat before speaking quietly. "My sister has just informed me that she has plans to procreate in the future."

"Uhm, good for her?" Lizzie offered, confusion clear in her expression. People have children every day, right? Was she missing something here?

"Specifically, she plans to have a half Vulcan, half human hybrid. You met her betrothed this morning, T'Hain. T'Hain has a sibling willing to donate genetic material so they can have a child." Although the words themselves are objective, the underlying pain struck Lizzie somewhere in her chest. In their various discussions about their families Darcy had informed her of the cause of his mother's death. She thought his Vulcan sensibilities would make him immune to the guilt a human might feel at those type of circumstances, but it seemed she was wrong. Now that his sister was considering a similar thing, she connected the dots.

"You're worried she's going to die like your mother, aren't you?"

Sometimes, she wished she had Jane's gift for acrobatic diction, but when she was talking to Darcy it felt unnecessary. Even when he looked like he was on the brink of tears it seemed like a direct approach was best. At her question he simply sighed, leaned against the back of the couch, and closed his eyes. "Yes."

Lizzie laid her arm behind his head, keeping enough distance between them to observe her companion. He was clearly distressed, and even though three days ago she had thrown some hurtful accusations at him she still hated to see him in pain. Just because they weren't romantically compatible, didn't mean they couldn't be friends. That must have been why he came to her quarters after all; he might have had the same realization.

Some lingering guilt also whispered to her that she owed him some comfort, but that was mostly overshadowed by her empathy for the man that she had spent the last four months with while they learned the corners of each other's minds.

Darcy's normally stern expression, while not exactly relaxed, was softer than normal. Although he normally shunned close physical contact, Lizzie guessed that maybe that was what his human side needed at the moment. She scooted closer, and when his only reaction was opening his eyes slightly, she curled his right and her left arm together before placing her head on his shoulder. He gave a shuddering breath before relaxing further into her grip. "I cannot lose her."

Lizzie briefly entertained the idea of alerting the counselor, whose entire job revolved around the emotional needs of the crew, but the image of her sister consoling the man in her arms was swiftly buried in a possessive smother.

Best not to look at that reaction too closely.

Sifting through the options in her head, Lizzie decided to try to be Darcy's voice of reason while he's struggling. All she has to do is think like a Vulcan. "Do you want to try looking at this from a logical or emotional perspective?"

The quick quirk of Darcy's eyebrows conveyed his surprise, but he astounded her right back when he answered, "Emotional."

"Do you trust your sister with your life?"

"Yes." The response was quick, out of his mouth barely after Lizzie finished speaking.

"Do you trust your sister with her own life?"

This question was considered more carefully, but the answer was the same. "Yes."

"Why do you think she wants a Vulcan hybrid as a child?" the captain pressed, part of out curiosity and part because she hoped it would help the commander process the situation better.

His brow furrowed as Darcy recalled their conversation in the holodeck. "Georgiana claimed I would not 'be alone anymore'. On Vulcan, I was deemed too emotional for my peers. On Earth, humans often said I was too unfeeling. Why would she want to put another person through that? To have the seemingly worst qualities of both species." Lizzie's guilt came back ten-fold, her previous uncharitable thoughts about the man next to her were too similar to what he was currently saying. She pushed that aside for now; this conversation was not about her.

Tilting her head up to see the bafflement clear in his face at Georgiana's plans, the captain hinted, "Maybe it's because she's your sister and she loves you? She must know you have some great qualities if she wants to replicate them so much."

He didn't reply, but merely sent a disbelieving look her way. She playfully rattled the arm in her grasp. "Really? You can't think of anything?" She tapped a finger against her chin, not quite containing her grin. "Eidetic memory? Nah, when does that come in handy. Also you're intelligent and physically strong." She bit her tongue against listing some other assets that popped into her mind, like his dry sense of humor and mesmerizing eyes. After her rejection it was best not to muddle the waters.

If anything the reminders of his physical and mental superiority further deteriorated his mood. Sensing this, Lizzie moved on. "Maybe we should focus on the logical perspective. Your mother passed away nearly two decades ago, correct? You said the cause of her death is what prompted Georgiana to focus on xenobiology as a career choice on Vulcan?"

Darcy nodded.

"Therefore she's more familiar with Vulcan and human anatomy at this point than either one of us, and probably wouldn't be doing this without the support of her future wife. Wait, why isn't T'Hain offering to carry the child? If it's so important to them that the child is biologically related to them, and you think Georgiana is at risk..." she trailed off, tentatively pleased at the plan forming in her head. Darcy was quick to cut her off.

"There has been no documentation of a Vulcan successfully carrying a hybrid to term. Vulcan immune systems interrupt fetal growth to a point where even medical interference cannot prevent spontaneous abortion. There is also the matter of Georgiana possessing no known living biological relatives, male or otherwise, to donate genetic material." The explanation was given calmly, a hint of Darcy coming back to his normal self.

Lizzie's thoughts latched on to the parts of the equation they could control, like they did when their assignments went off the rails. "Let's say T'Hain could theoretically carry their child. I'm absolutely positive Georgiana could care less about finding a living relative if you would be willing to donate sperm. If you were comfortable with that, of course-"

"Hybrids are notoriously sterile. Which is another reason I believe she should not be committed to this course of action."

Surprised by Darcy's vehement tone, the captain drew her head up to rest on the back of the couch. Lizzie almost felt like shouting, you can't judge a future person based on their ability to reproduce! But she supposed the reason Darcy was so irritated at the fact was that he could empathize all too well with that quality.

Knuckling at her eyes, the captain had to stop a yawn from escaping. First she had a shitty night's sleep, then the conversation with her mother, while illuminating, had drained her, and now this. She paused, shifting to rest her head on Darcy's shoulder again. She could admit to herself at the moment it was less for his comfort and more because she wanted a pillow.

Keeping her voice soft in case he thought she was dismissing him, she tried to stay on the logical track. "Let's back up. You said she wanted to have children 'in the future.' What's the timeframe here?"

Darcy shrugged, and her head bobbled slightly with the gesture. "Their ceremony is next year-"

"Uh huh-"

"Georgiana said they wanted to wait a couple of years after that to start trying-"

"-okay-"

"and if their journey is anything similar to my parents it will take them approximately 5.8 years to become pregnant..."

Lizzie looked up at Darcy sharply, as the commander trailed off before clearing his throat. "I may have overreacted to my sister's news."

"You didn't overreact, Darcy," Lizzie sighed. "It must have been alarming to hear your sister basically wanted to follow in your mother's footsteps when you knew exactly where that trail led. But you have, like, 9 years apparently to either change your sister's mind, or if you can't do that than to make sure the same thing doesn't happen to her. Also, she's the only human expert in a field of Vulcans; she knows what she's doing."

During her spiel she could physically feel Darcy's shoulders loosen, and she felt her body relax in response.

"You are right."

Lizzie wanted to jump up and squeal at his declaration, but settled instead for a smirk and an obnoxious retort. "When am I not?"

"During our assignment on Lantax II when you confused 'gift' and 'present,' when you were unable to pronounce the word 'precipitation' during a debriefing and-" Darcy had started to tick off the examples on his fingers, but halted at the playful shove from his right side.

"It was a rhetorical question!"

"Oh," Darcy said softly, his hands coming down to rest in his lap.

"Darcy" the captain started, but was interrupted by her yawn finally escaping in a gesture so wide she nearly dislocated her jaw, "I'm exhausted. Your sister and her fiancé are stuck with us for the next six days, not to mention however long we're all on Tarkalea, while we figure this out, so I'm going to at least use the next two hours for a nap. Unless you want to be my pillow or my alarm clock, I'm kicking you out."

Her first officer actually glanced at his shoulder as if he was briefly considering how comfortable he would be as a pillow before offering to be the latter. He swiftly stood before walking over to her computer terminal. "If you allow me to, I could access some of my reports from here and use the time efficiently. It is important that you maintain peak physical and mental health, and as your first officer I endeavor to assist in any way I am able to. Shall I wake you at 1314 hours? That is exactly 2 hours from now."

The captain blinked for several seconds in surprise, but was too drained to explain that she was joking. Perhaps Darcy was still recovering from the shock of his sister's declaration, or maybe he thought he was genuinely helping- either way she didn't have the energy to get him out of her quarters. Internally shrugging, Lizzie tugged the purple quilt onto her and laid down across the sofa. "Make it 1330, please."

A part of her also didn't want to admit she felt safer with him looking over her shoulder.

Author's Note: Merry Christmas/ Happy Holidays! Hope you all have a wonderful and safe holiday! And a happy new year :D

P.S. I know I take pretty long between updates, so if anyone wants to wait until this fic is finished to read it I understand. In fact, if you want to reach out to me by leaving a comment or sending a private message I will assemble a list and either P.M. or email those people after posting the last chapter. Just wanted to offer that service to anyone who is interested.