A/N: Takes place a day or two after the events of the last chapter of Ex Astris, Scientia and the one-shot Aftermath of a Lightning Strike. Thank you to Ottokar for this plot tribble :)
Beverly and Deanna were the ones to clean out Elle's quarters. It was all going into storage. But now, with the knowledge that Captain Picard had seen her in the past, through Sarek's memories, it was more and more a when, not an if, they would see her again.
And yet, putting her things into a black storage crate, taking down the artwork and the knick-knacks and laying them to rest among the sweaters and blankets, it felt like a death.
"Beverly?" Deanna's soft voice broke the doctor out of her haze.
Beverly looked up from the stack of clothes that she was holding in her hands. "Yes?"
"You're crying."
"I think, after the week we've had, I'm entitled."
"I think so, too," Deanna said, her voice free of judgment.
"I don't think Elle would begrudge us a few tears," Beverly said. She huffed a laugh and tilted her head back, trying not to let the tears leave her eyes. "I keep wondering if she's safe. If she's healed up properly. If she's found someone that she recognizes. If she's going to be able to tell the future there, too. If she's eating enough. If anyone's hugged her." The tears won the battle, and she shook her head.
Deanna hugged her. "Has Jean-Luc mentioned anything about where she is?"
"Nothing specific. Sarek didn't know, so he doesn't know." Beverly shook her head again, wiping her eyes with a delicate hand. "I'm so angry. I can't believe he knew. He knew she was going to die, and he didn't say anything."
"If he had said something, would you have been able to let her go?" Deanna asked gently.
Beverly dropped her gaze. "I don't know," she said.
"Do you think Elle would have stayed if she knew what her future would be?" Deanna asked.
Beverly had to smile at that. "No," she said. "No, she would've gone anyway." She leaned into Deanna's side. "We didn't even get to say goodbye. I didn't even tell her I love her. I just asked her if she had all her things."
"She knew," Deanna said firmly. "In every way that matters, Elle is your child, and she knew you loved her. She knows that we all love her. And eventually, she is going to come back to us."
Beverly took a deep breath. "Yes. She is." She stepped away to regain her composure. "And she'll be very upset if we don't save every last fridge magnet."
Deanna smiled at that. "Some of these are vintage," she said.
"From the 23rd century," Beverly said. "She started it then. Dr. McCoy had them all in Georgia." She went over to the biodome. Simba the Third was there, purring at the sound of voices. She picked up the tribble. "Do you know?" she asked. "Do you miss her?"
Simba trilled lowly and nestled into Beverly's arm. That was a yes, ish.
"Was Satel going to take the tribble?" Deanna asked. "Like last time?"
"Not now that he's on Vulcan," Beverly said. "And Yeoman Harcombe already told us that Mina is getting a pet cat next starbase, so she can't take Simba. Do you know if Will..."
"He wouldn't have time to take care of a tribble," Deanna said.
Beverly held out Simba appealingly. "You don't want a therapy pet?"
Deanna shook her head. "As appealing as the idea is, no. The positive emotions generated by the tribble would give me mixed signals."
"Makes sense."
"We could always send Simba back to Vulcan," Deanna suggested slowly. "That's where Admiral McCoy got her from."
Beverly frowned. "No. That seems cruel. Simba's always had a person. Data's got Spot, Geordi doesn't do pets, Worf..." The two women looked at each other and laughed. "No." She looked down at Simba, purring peacefully in her arms. She reached up to tap her commbadge. "Crusher to Picard."
"Picard here."
"How do you feel about tribbles?"
There was a sigh on the other end of the channel. "I assume we are adopting Simba?" he asked.
"Yes, dear."
"Understood."
"Crusher out." Beverly tapped her commbadge again and lifted Simba to eye level. "How about it? Captain's pet?"
Simba trilled happily.
"Well, that solves that problem."
They finished clearing Elle's quarters. All her possessions, except for Simba, were now in the crate. Deanna labeled it with Elle's name. "I'll get this to the cargo bay if you want to settle Simba in your quarters," she said.
"Thank you, Deanna."
"Of course."
The two women shared a hug, and Dr. Crusher took Simba's biome to her quarters. She made sure to clear up any snacks and put them in a cabinet before she let the tribble out of the biodome.
Simba shuffled around, scoping out its new quarters, and shuffled itself all the way up the couch to sit in Jean-Luc's preferred spot.
Beverly regarded the tribble with amusement. "If you get sat on, that's your own fault."
The door hissed open a few moments later. "Beverly?" Jean-Luc came in, carrying a tray with two meals on it. "I thought we'd better eat here," he said, setting the tray on the table and leaning in to kiss her cheek. "How are you?"
Beverly sighed, leaning back to look at his earnest expression. "I'm okay," she said. "How are you?"
He made a so-so gesture with his hand, eminently French in its expressiveness. "The Admiralty is still roiling over our successful communications with the Entity. There's talk of putting signposts on the edges of explored space to warn cosmozoans that they aren't allowed to eat any Federation planets."
"Would that work?"
"I don't see why not. It's only graviton pulses. Data's already working on it. If the cosmozoans heed our warning is another matter." Jean-Luc moved to sit on the couch but paused. "Ah. The tribble."
Simba purred violently at hearing Jean-Luc's voice and started squeaking.
He picked up the tribble and held it close. "Hello," he said softly, and he looked tired. "You've had a rough time of it recently, haven't you?" He sat down to take off his shoes, Simba still trilling delightedly in his lap.
Beverly watched him for a long moment. "Jean-Luc," she said slowly. "Have you spoken with Wesley in the last few days?"
He winced. "No," he said after another long moment. "I was going to ask you today if he would welcome-"
"Of course, he would," Beverly said. "For all intents and purposes, his sister died, and he can't tell anyone that she's a time traveler."
"Of all the times for Ambassador Spock to disappear," her husband muttered, "as if he wouldn't be the perfect role model-" He shook his head. That was another secret of Ambassador Sarek's he'd have to take to his grave. He sighed. "I'll call him, then."
"Thank you."
He pinched at the bridge of his nose. From the look on his face, he had a headache brewing. "Captain Scott commed today," he said. "Wanted to let me know that he and Saavik finished sealing Elle's files. They won't be available to access until she comes back."
"Have you looked for her?" Beverly asked, sitting next to him on the couch.
"In the past?"
"Mm-hmm."
"Yes."
"Did you find anything?"
He sagged into the couch cushions, letting Simba curl into his neck like some living neck beard. "No. Any mention of her is strictly gone. I suspect Ambassador Spock, the DTI, or someone else with incredible computer skills has swept the entire database for any mention of her name. I have an inkling of a few things she's done but no evidence to back it up."
"Tell me?" she asked, leaning against his arm. "Please?"
He sighed, and his gaze went distant. "She's brilliant," he said. "Through Sarek's eyes. He's so proud of her that it almost hurts. She's an ambassador, like her lineage. She's," he paused. "Alexa, is this room secure?"
"It is," Alexa replied. "I must caution you, though, captain, that I will act to keep the timeline intact."
"Can't I tell my own wife one thing about our own child?" Jean-Luc snapped.
There was silence. Acquiescence?
He met Beverly's eyes and leaned forward, lowering his voice. "She signed the Khitomer Accords," he informed her. "Federation ambassador at large. She was there, with Kirk and Spock and Gorkon and Sarek. She was all grown up, confident beyond belief. She was marvelous, Beverly."
"I can believe it," Beverly said, giving him a soft smile. "Thank you. For telling me."
He leaned his forehead against hers. "You would not believe how hard it was to know and to let her go," he said quietly. "I would not wish that on anyone. Ambassador Spock refused, multiple times, to let me tell anyone. I'm sorry."
So there was a little crying. And a little cuddling. Simba was very soothing, after all. For its services, Beverly gave Simba half a carrot.
"You know, this is typical of children," Jean-Luc observed as Simba tried to sneak more of their dinner. "The child goes away to college, leaves their parents with their pet. Pet gets away with all sorts of things." He pointed a finger at Simba. "Not this time, you understand?"
Simba nudged at his finger.
"I mean it," Jean-Luc said, moving his dinner plate further away. "Behave, or I really will send you to Vulcan."
Simba just purred louder.
"I think it knows you're lying," Beverly said with a laugh.
Jean-Luc sighed. "Well. I tried."
"You ole softy," she teased him.
He smiled at her, his eyes warm with affection. "Don't tell anyone. It'll ruin my reputation."
"Of course not, dear," she said and smiled at him.
In further, unrelated news, Simba soon became a familiar sight on the bridge. Worf hated it so much, but he contained himself to grumbling dire threats under his breath.
