True to his word of the night before, Jean-Luc took care of organizing the removal of her things from her townhouse and coordinating the modification of the plans she'd already set into place for the birth of their son. If she was being honest, she wasn't even surprised. When Jean-Luc set his mind to something, no one dared to say no or object. And really, it was pure luxury to have someone take care of her that way. After so many months of juggling everything on her own it was with relief that she allowed him to take over.

Three weeks after they'd settled in and less than a month before her due date, Beverly finally gave in and started her maternity leave.

"I worked through half of my labour with Wesley," she said disspiritedly.

"Well, that was decades ago. You're a lot-"

"Jean-Luc Picard, don't you dare tell me I'm older."

He eyed her warily from the end of their bed where he had her feet in his lap. He moved one hand to his mouth and made a zipping motion then gave a satisfied smile when she chuckled. "I wouldn't dare…. Happy wife, happy life." His hands stilled on her feet, but when she didn't respond to his inadvertent remark he continued to dig his fingers into her arch then moved up her ankle to her calf.

"I should hire you out."

"As a masseur?" he asked, amused.

"Mmmm," she responded.

He attempted to shift further up the bed so that he could massage her lower back. It was a constant source of discomfort at this point and when he eased the muscles there she flexed and purred like Lucy when he stroked her spine. She rolled onto her side and started tossing pillows off the bed in anticipation.

"Beverly…" he asked hesitantly. "Why so many pillows?" In the weeks since he had arrived in San Francisco, the number of pillows in their bed had grown exponentially. It made him think of breeding Tribbles…

"Pregnant women need a lot of pillows, Jean-Luc," she told him matter of factly. "I need fewer now…" she added. He cocked an eyebrow at her in question. "Well, I don't need one against my back anymore."

"Well, I guess that's one reason to keep me around. I…. I suppose I could also help soothe your nightmares…" he added awkwardly.

"My what?" She glanced at him over her shoulder and, seeing his serious face, began the laborious process of twisting and heaving herself back up towards the pillows piled against the headboard. She felt his hands settle on her hips to assist her.

"What?" he asked too innocently. "You don't have nightmares?"

"No. You've slept with me on and off for years! You know that I don't."

"But you do at times suffer from insomnia," he retorted.

"Jean-Luc, what's this all about?"

"I'm just trying to get to know you better," he told her earnestly.

"We have known each other for 30 years!"

"Yes but… Peter… he implied, well more than implied really, that I don't know who you are," he admitted painfully. She knew immediately that he must be referring to his unsuccessful attempt to see her before he'd left the Enterprise, and the subsequent conversation between the two men.

"Peter should mind his own business," she replied tartly.

"I don't think that he's capable of that where you're concerned." He smiled somewhat ruefully.

"No, he's not." Her soft smile was tinged with fondness and affection and an underlying exasperation. "Peter's life has been shaped by what happened on Arvada in a way that mine… Peter would never have joined Starfleet. He would never have married a Starfleet officer. Jean-Luc, I dealt with Arvada a very long time ago."

"But it still affects you…". Their eyes met and she knew that he was thinking of any one of a hundred moments when she'd run heedlessly into danger, argued single mindedly for the preservation of life, skirted the line between doctor and officer.

"Of course it does! Peter seems to think that my…. coping strategies somehow imply that I've not fully recovered. Probably because he could never imagine dealing with anything in the same way," she muttered.

"You've learned to compartmentalise," he said hesitantly.

"It is a valid coping strategy," she replied steadily. "I don't question whether or not you have dealt with your past traumas that I didn't share. Even those I did share. I trusted that Deanna would do her job. And I know better than to assume that you will ever truly get over some of it. It is simply now part of who you are. We are very similar in the way we cope, I think." She was looking at him intensely now, giving him time to work it through.

He thought back to their time on the Enterprise and quickly concluded that she was right. Once he'd been cleared for duty and indicated that he would rather not revisit or rehash what had occurred, what had been done to him, she'd not pressed the issue. She'd let him know, in her own subtle way, that she was there for him if he wanted to talk but…. He had no idea what conversations had taken place between Deanna and Beverly, however those were of a professional nature.

Besides, it hadn't been all one-sided. Beverly had sought both counsel and comfort from him many times. After she was attacked on Caldos, she hadn't talked to him per se, but that had been the very beginning of their intimate relationship. She'd spent an awful lot of time curled up in the corner of his couch. The Nova Squadron incident, the months following Wesley's departure…

"Peter is very… Open about everything. His passions and his hurts… It's all very close to the surface. What you see is what you get."

"But-"

"Jean-Luc…" she sighed in exasperation, "I have had years and years of therapy, Jean-Luc! Do you really think that Deanna wouldn't have stuck me into some intensive therapy program if my everyday life were being overshadowed by childhood trauma?" He shook his head thoughtfully, trying to twist his mind around what she was saying. "Peter…." She sighed. "He-"

"He's very protective of you," he offered.

"Yes. He very much sees himself as my protector. My enthusiastic, at times overzealous, protector." When he continued to look uncertain she added, "I don't get into what happened on Arvada with anyone, Jean-Luc. Not Deanna. Not Peter. Not Jack." His eyes widened warily at the mention of Jack's name.

"So what you're saying is that I am in good company," he smiled, finally acquiescing.

"The best. Now…. Are you going to rub my back or do I have to find some other Starfleet admiral to do it?"

"No, ma'am."

Before he helped her to turn over she drew him to her and placed a soft kiss on his temple, her breath on his skin making him shiver against her.

"I love you, Jean-Luc," she murmured against his ear and felt him swallow, his arms clenching tightly around her.

"I love you, too."

Things eased even more between them following that conversation. They had never spent so much time together, even as busy as he was with the Admiralty and despite the fact that Beverly was no longer commuting to San Francisco which meant that they couldn't steal a few minutes during the day. Given the time difference between LaBarre and San Francisco, he'd even taken to telecommuting, sometimes working from home as often as several days a week.

When he got home they ate dinner together and went for a walk. The rest of each evening was spent either with her feet on his lap on the sofa reading or working together on the proposal for the Academy seminar for upperclassmen he'd pitched to Brand for the following fall.

On most nights Beverly was yawning uncontrollably by 21h00 and Jean-Luc never complained. He simply accompanied her up the stairs and prepared for bed. He had a feeling that once the baby arrived, the sleep debt he would incur would be enormous, justifying the early bedtime now.

If truth be told, those two hours between when they went to bed and when he eventually fell asleep around 23h00 were some of his favourite of each day. Usually he'd lay spooned against her back or she'd lay half wedged against his side, half draped over his hip.

Either way he had unfettered access to her belly and the baby was very active despite the fact that he was quickly running out of room to manoeuvre. Beverly had explained that when she was still at night, that the baby was more likely to be awake, and that her movements during the day lulled him to sleep.

Whatever the reason, Jean-Luc took full advantage of the opportunity during those quiet hours to converse in whispered French with his son. Some nights the baby was so active that he wondered that Beverly didn't wake, but the exhaustion of late pregnancy seemed to have at least temporarily cured her insomnia.

They hadn't had any further conversations around the future and what that entailed. However, as far as the other knew, they were both optimistic that they could continue to work on their relationship and the ultimate goal of building a family together.

With Beverly removed from his direct chain of command and even talking about potentially taking a year or two on a part time or modified schedule in order to stay with the baby, everything seemed simpler. The obstacles that had, for so long, kept them wary of fully committing had seemingly melted away. There was perhaps just one loose end remaining to be tied up before the baby arrived and finally, about two weeks before her due date, their loose end got in touch.

"A subspace call for you, Beverly. You can take it in the study." He brushed his lips against her cheek and trailed a hand over her belly before turning away and walking into the kitchen. Mystified as to the identity of her caller, she moved into the study closing the door behind her. No one besides Deanna knew that she was here, and she'd just contacted the Enterprise two days ago, so who could possibly be calling her? And subspace as well…

Her question was immediately answered as she took a seat in Jean-Luc's chair.

"You're not an easy woman to track down, Beverly."

"You mean you were looking for me? I'd have thought it would be just the opposite. Or have you managed to somehow forget the Howard temper, Mac?"

"I know I'm in trouble when you call me Mac."

"Hmmm," she snorted.

"So…. You're living with him?"

"Is that how you knew where to find me?"

"It took me a while to get the exalted Admiral's comm number…. But it seemed a logical place to start looking."

"Given that you sent him here in the first place?"

"I won't apologise for it, Beverly."

"I don't expect you to, Peter," she sighed. "I put you in an impossible position and imposed on our friendship."

"You're never an imposition to me, Bevy. You know that."

"I do," she husked, returning his soft smile with one of her own.

"I had to make it right," he told her softly. "I interfered where I shouldn't have, and I had to make it right…" He inhaled deeply. "Are we good?"

"We weren't ever not good, Peter…. And, while I won't go so far as to say that I agree with your methods, I am very grateful for your interference."

"You're welcome, Bevy," he grinned.

"So," she said briskly, "tell me about the situation on Donas II."

When she made it back out to the kitchen Jean-Luc was sitting at the table, a cup of tea in front of him. At the spot to his left, he had a cup of tea waiting under a stasis dome. My spot she thought and it left her feeling warm and contented, a reaction beyond what a designated seat at his table should provoke. Then again, the thought of her side in his bed caused a similar response.

"So…" she said, looking at him expectantly.

"So?" He reached out and removed the stasis field. She inhaled and smiled. Lemon, she thought and that same warm contented feeling bloomed in her chest.

"Thank you for this," she said, indicating the tea.

"My pleasure. I thought you might need it. I didn't know how the conversation would go. Better him than me though, I suppose," he muttered under his breath.

"I'm glad to see that someone has the appropriate level of respect for the Howard temper," she quipped and he burst out laughing.

"Always, Beverly."

"So, what did you two have to say to each other?"

"I believe he mentioned phasers at dawn should I dare upset you," he muttered into his tea cup. This time it was Beverly's startled laughter that filled the room.

"Oh my God! He didn't!"

"I assure you that he, in fact, did… I have to admit that he's… growing on me."

She snorted then returned, "Of course he is, now that you know he isn't competition." He had the decency to look uncomfortable.

"I admit that he is easier to like if I can consider him more like Will than…" He stilled beside her.

"Jack?" He nodded reluctantly and there was a long moment of silence before she spoke again. "I think he would approve."

He looked at her, startled. "Who? Jack?"

"Yes."

"Of us?" he asked softly and she picked his hand up off the table and threaded her fingers through his.

"He always said you needed to settle down, have a family."

"I don't think he meant his." Colour scored his cheeks and he lowered his eyes, but not before she saw the shame and regret reflected there. If they were dealing with old hurts, it was time to deal with this one as well, she decided.

"He knew, you know."

"What?" His eyes flew to hers.

"That we were, are, attracted to each other." He swallowed hard, a stricken expression settling into his features.

"Beverly-"

"But he trusted me. And he trusted you. Our marriage wasn't perfect, but we had a good relationship, a good partnership. Despite the fact that we rarely saw one another. Jack was so open that I couldn't help but reciprocate. You and I," she said slowly, "we're very similar in that respect. We're both so closed off…. But Jack managed to get us both to open up."

"And?" he prompted when she fell silent.

"We've been living together, we'll be living together," he nodded his agreement, "we're more mature and know each other much better than Jack and I ever did, Jean-Luc. And as terrified as I am of it, I want that again, to feel like I belong to someone and that someone belongs to me. I want it with you. I think I have for a very long time."

"I want nothing more," he assured her and his hand gripped hers tightly.

"I'm glad. We have allowed our fears and outside issues and pressures to become a convenient excuse to avoid taking that final step, that risk." She squeezed his hand in response. "Jean-Luc, I have felt closer to you these past weeks than I have ever felt to another person… and we haven't even let sex cloud the issue," she added teasingly.

A sour look that was quickly masked passed over his face and she chuckled. "The point is," she said, placing their joined hands on her belly, "that we have the biggest reason right here to stop making excuses and to start making an effort to try and build something lasting. Jack brought us into each other's lives, forced us both to be more open…. You just couldn't help but love Jack and he loved us back. I want to believe that we are ready to let go of our walls, that we can. Yes, I think he'd approve."

"Do you think that this pregnancy, this baby, is our Jack?" She looked somewhat confused then smiled at him as he explained. "That he'll be the one to remind us to turn towards and not away from one another?"

"I think that when you love someone as much as we already love this baby, that that is pretty much a given."

"I think I like that…" he said mysteriously.

"Like what?"

"Jack." Seeing her continued confusion, he elaborated. "The name. For our son."

"I…. Are you sure?" He nodded.

"I am. It won't be a reminder of the past, Beverly, but a promise for our future." He lifted their linked hands to his mouth and gently kissed her knuckles. "Jack Picard?" he asked, raising his eyebrows in question.

He used his free hand to swipe at the tears now escaping down her cheeks. "Alright," she agreed huskily and leaned forward to lean her forehead against his. "Jack Picard."