That morning set the tone for the following week as they settled into a routine. It was easy to fall back into the comfort of the friendship they'd shared for so long before becoming lovers, and between work and planning for the baby's arrival they had more than enough to keep them both occupied.
Jean-Luc accompanied her on walks and finished up filings and reports while sitting beside her on the sofa in the cramped living room. When they both returned from downtown each evening they'd have dinner together. Afterwards, he'd make her tea and they'd talk just as they used to, then he'd bunk down on her couch with Lucy without complaint. It was all very comfortingly domesticated. And if she tossed and turned missing him beside her, well, nothing was ever perfect, she reasoned.
They'd been sharing the small living space including the single bathroom all week. For Jean-Luc's part, he was loath to complain about the tight quarters which brought him into constant contact with her. He didn't think that she'd use it as an excuse to suggest he leave… but she might…. Even so, he had the surest intuition that she liked having him there. There had been no further confrontations, but nor had there been any more conversations about where they were going moving forward. About what would happen once the baby arrived…
He knew that he wanted to convince her to come with him to France but perversely, worried that if he succeeded he would be giving her space to hide and withdraw from him. Forcing the doubts aside, he pushed ahead, taking advantage of the contented and relaxed atmosphere of the kitchen one evening to make his case. They always had done their best talking over a shared meal.
"How are you settling in over at headquarters?" she asked.
"Very well actually. I inquired with the Academy board about the possibility of perhaps offering a senior seminar on interplanetary diplomacy and first contact. Not this year, but for the fall session. So, well after the baby's born. I-"
"Well, I think it sounds like a wonderful idea," she assured him and saw his shoulders drop in relief. "What did Brand have to say about it?"
"She agreed with the premise. Asked that I send her a detailed proposal."
"I could definitely see you as a teacher, Jean-Luc. You were always very good with the younger officers onboard, and Wesley of course." He beamed at her encouragement. "If you want any input on your proposal…"
"That would be much appreciated." He poured her a small amount of wine then helped himself to a glass as well. Raising his glass towards her he toasted, "To new beginnings then."
"Yes, to new beginnings," she murmured. "Other than that, things are going well? You're not already getting tired of the paperwork, the bureaucracy?"
"Not at all. I knew exactly what I was doing when I requested to be transferred off of the Enterprise, Beverly. It was perhaps time anyway, and I for one cannot think of anything else I would rather be doing right now, nor anyone else I would rather be sharing it with." He gave her a moment to let what he'd said really sink in before saying lightly, "Although, one thing has been bothering me, Beverly."
"And what's that?" she asked absently as she laid her napkin across her lap.
"How did you manage to recreate my bedroom? The level of detail…. I can't imagine that a glance at a photo album years ago could result in such a faithful recreation. I'm astonished that you remembered it at all."
"Well, I did," she stalled. "Alright, if you must know, I had Marie send me a digital copy of one of the photos in the album when she last stopped by to check on things at the vineyard." Her face flushed slightly in embarrassment.
"And she didn't ask why you wanted it?"
"No… she did. I told her it was for a personal project that I was working on."
"One that involved me," he glanced pointedly at her belly and smiled.
"Well, obviously. That goes without saying." She tilted him a lopsided smile.
There was a long moment of silence before he broke it. "You know, it wouldn't be that difficult to transfer the contents over to the original bedroom, Beverly. It's not too late…. Before the baby comes…" He put his hand over hers where it lay on the counter top. "Not too late for a lot of things actually."
She saw on his face the exact moment that he decided to go all in. Reaching over he cupped the nape of her neck, giving her plenty of time to object. Taking her silence as consent he feathered his lips over hers, testing and then teasing out her response. She hesitated a moment before opening her mouth and allowing his tongue to slip inside to slide along her own. Shivers of awareness danced tingling paths along her nerve ends, drawing her more deeply under the sensual spell he was weaving.
Nevertheless she pulled her lips slightly from his to proudly mount a token resistance, "Jean-Luc, I've arranged for Dr. Hart to attend the birth here, in San Francisco."
Undeterred, his lips continued their journey up one cheek and across her closed eyelids, then down the other before returning to caress her lips sending heat skittering across her skin as a wave of longing consumed her. Finally resting his forehead against hers, he drew in a steadying breath. "We can just as easily transfer your care to Paris and request the doctor attend the birth there. You simply need to send me the details and I'll take care of everything… Alright?"
"Alright," she somehow found herself agreeing.
"That's settled then," he said, his voice full of satisfaction.
Wonderful, Beverly thought later that evening as she brushed her teeth, he's not even been here two weeks and you're moving halfway across the planet with him. You might as well move him into your bed… Her hand paused and she looked at herself in the mirror. Finally, she shrugged as if in answer to a question and finished brushing her teeth.
As he opened the hallway closet to take down his blanket and pillow he turned and caught sight of Beverly hovering uncertainly in the hallway. He was just reaching up to grab his pillow when she spoke, causing him to pause. "It can't be comfortable."
"What can't be comfortable?"
"My couch."
Drawing on his knowledge of Beverly and the instinct of a lifetime spent negotiating between hostile parties, he intuited that the truth rather than politeness might be to his advantage. "Well, it's not quite as bad as the sofa in my ready room, but it leaves much to be desired."
"My bed has plenty of room. You've been sleeping poorly and it only seems fair. I'm sure we're adult enough to share."
He could sense that she was offering more than just an olive branch. He had experience with how Beverly would climb back down from a position or a decision while at the same time nursing her pride.
Pity he hadn't considered that all those months ago before Ba'ku, he thought regretfully. After a long moment he silently put the linens back on the shelf in the closet and when she turned around, he followed her into her bedroom.
They gravitated naturally towards their preferred sides of the bed, each silently slipping under the covers and pulling the duvet up. He stretched out on his back as she rolled onto her side away from him, but he felt her shift back towards him as if seeking his warmth.
It was as if time had been rolled back almost a year and they were in his quarters on board the Enterprise. He was contemplating how right it felt, how sliding into this bed and feeling her move and hearing her breathe beside him felt like the part of him that had been missing for months now had finally been located and fitted back into place.
"You know," he breathed into the darkness. "I never did ask you why they allowed you to transfer to Medical without making it conditional that you take on the lead role." She snorted from beside him and he could sense her amusement.
"Don't think they didn't try."
"How did you manage to avoid that? They've been after you for years to head up Medical again. The past several years I was always afraid the next communiqué from headquarters would be the one ordering you back to Earth." He sounded lost in thoughts which were not altogether pleasant.
"Were you?" She asked as she shifted around on her other side until she was facing him. Half way through the manoeuvre she felt him take her arm and help her twist towards him.
"Yes," he said emphatically, turning towards her as well. He could just make out her features in the low ambient lighting of her bedroom.
"I told them I wasn't interested."
"And they accepted it? Just like that?"
"No," she sighed with evident reluctance. "Admiral Nechayev contacted me on the Enterprise after I informed Medical that it was either transfer me to a regular rotation with reasonable clinical and lab hours or I'd resign my commission." She heard his sharp intake of breath. "She told me in very few words that my resignation would not be accepted."
"So, how-"
"I simply told her I wasn't interested. When she persisted, I told her, quite bluntly, that I was pregnant and in no position, especially at my age, to tackle pregnancy and the lead at Medical. She took pity on me."
"You'd have left Starfleet?" he finally risked asking. She understood that he was really asking if she'd have left him.
"Probably not. I would have taken a leave of absence in the interim, until they saw reason or my expanding waistline convinced them that I was serious." He was lying quite tensely beside her and she easily intuited the reason for it. "Jean-Luc, they'd have found out anyway. I wasn't going to be able to hide a pregnancy from Command."
"No, only from your commanding officer." He felt her stiffen beside him and grimaced in frustration. "Beverly, I'm sorry. I sh-"
"No. You're right. I should have told you. I don't know…. I don't understand what I was thinking at the time. Then later…."
"I know. And I understand. I'm just-"
"Hurt? Jealous?" When he didn't answer she elaborated. "That I told others and not you."
"Yes," he said simply. He was silent for a long moment and she knew that he was absorbing the fact that Alynna Neychayev had known of her pregnancy before he had. "Did she ask who…" he trailed off, certain that she would understand what he was asking.
"Jean-Luc, she didn't need to. Our relationship wasn't exactly a secret, no matter how much you preferred otherwise," she admonished harshly.
He could hear both frustration and resignation in her tone. He tried to imagine what it had been like for her. Everyone here in San Francisco, it seemed, had been aware of their relationship. And everyone in the entire Federation had also somehow known about his application for extended leave and no doubt exactly why he had requested it. His life had always been a fascination for gossip mongers, their relationship fodder for shallow minds eager for salacious rumour.
It was only too easy to imagine how hurt, even humiliated, she must have felt, especially as her pregnancy became obvious. She hadn't even been allowed to grieve their relationship in private. How much courage had it taken to walk out of this house every day? And how much more was it taking for her to let him in now, to permit him to become a part of her life once more.
Suddenly it was clear to him why she'd allowed him to believe that McArthur was the baby's father. He'd been too consumed with trying to make things right between them to really allow anger towards her to take root. Now the self righteous indignation he might have entertained left him feeling small and ashamed of himself.
He swallowed hard and lifted an unsteady hand to her cheek. "Beverly… I'm so sorry."
"I know," she replied quietly. "You don't have to keep saying it Jean-Luc. I-"
"Yes, but I don't think I understood until this moment just how you must have felt, how difficult it must have been for you here these past months. How difficult it must be now, since I showed up on your doorstep."
He wasn't certain that she'd respond, then after a long pause, "You're right. Headquarters is not the Enterprise. And as much as living on board was like living in a fishbowl, there was a certain protective respect amongst the crew that just doesn't exist here. Thank you for recognizing that," she concluded with dignity.
"God, you don't have to thank me," he released a bitter chuckle. "It's the very least I can do." She placed her fingers over his mouth, silencing him.
"We're both sorry. We've both hurt each other. The entire thing was a mess from start to finish. I want us to agree that we both made mistakes and leave it in the past where it belongs. If we can't then I'm not certain what we're doing here. Can you?"
"Yes," he whispered against her fingers, then placed a soft kiss against the tips.
"Has this been making your life more difficult? Have I been making your life more difficult?"
She was slow to respond, weighing her answer carefully. "Not difficult per se. There has been an added curiosity that was only to be expected. I've learned to live with it. I'm not some wilting fragile flower, Jean-Luc."
"No, I know that. But before, you had Peter to run interference," he acknowledged. She noted that this was the first time he'd ever used Peter's first name and couldn't hide the small smile it caused.
"That's true," she agreed. "But you're here now."
"Yes. I'm here now. And I'm not going anywhere." When she didn't respond, he said more forcefully, "I'm not going anywhere, Beverly." He felt a sigh travel through her entire body and brought his hand down to caress their son. "Okay?"
"Okay." Her voice was small and a bit reticent. "Jean-Luc?"
"Yes?"
"Could you just hold me?"
"Of course I could," he replied, voice tight with suppressed emotion.
He helped her turn around once more, noting just how cumbersome her movements were and wondering how she would have possibly managed on her own these last weeks of pregnancy, but knowing also that she'd managed this alone before.
He snugged himself firmly up against her back, working one arm under her pillow and snaking the other around her middle to anchor her to his body. He idly stroked the swell of her abdomen, his mind drifting, and felt a ripple of response as his son shifted position. His thoughts turned to their conversation, the weight and the consequences of what they'd discussed, for her, not him.
He regretted being a continuing cause of stress in her life. Beverly didn't need him, he understood that, but did she want him? He decided to take it as a good sign that she had allowed him to stay, had invited him into her bed and had agreed to relocate to LaBarre. This past week had very little to do with need, he decided happily, and everything to do with want. Eventually he drifted off, the heat and the feel and the smell of her lulling him into a deeply contented sleep while he contemplated the difference.