Storytime with Rachel F Hundred

Medical Ship, Eleos VII. Year 2380.

“…and as Healer L’i is certain that she and the hospital can now provide all vaccinations moving forward my time at Tylis Prime is now at an end and I have left the planet,” Beverly Crusher pauses.  “I’m pleased to say that my first mission as an independent doctor providing assistance wherever needed has been successful.  I’m now en route to Stybu II in the Delta Quadrant. They are a former Maquis colony who have requested assistance dealing with an outbreak of Bajoran flu.  I’ll need to source more supplies on my trip there and will make a…”

She stops suddenly as an unexpected noise sounds through the ship.

Her heart begins to pound.

She’s alone on the ship; she shouldn’t be hearing any kind of noise and besides it sounded like a…

That’s impossible, she thinks.

The cry comes again.

A baby’s cry.

“Eleos, save and end Captain’s log.”  Beverly says, standing up slowly.

“Captain’s log is saved,” the computer voice intones.

Another wail echoes.

Maybe someone had sneaked onto the ship with a child and has been hiding?

“Either that, Beverly, or you’ve lost it,” Beverly murmurs. 

There’s a small worry that she has lost it.  She knows she’s felt a little isolated and alone on the ship even if she has spent the better part of the last month with the Tylisians. 

She walks over to a nearby console and picks up a phaser.  “Eleos, scan the ship for intruders.”

“No intruders found,” Eleos replies.

The baby continues crying.

“Identify the source of the crying,” Beverly orders.  

“Source is identified as a human infant,” Eleos states.

“Where is the infant?” demands Beverly, her heart pounding.  Maybe someone had sneaked onto the ship and left a baby before she’d left orbit…  

“Infant is located on the bridge behind the weapons console.”

Beverly hurries over to the console, rounding it urgently and freezes.

There is a human infant in a carry-seat just behind the console.  It’s absent of any Tylisian markers – no pointed ears or chin ridges and importantly – no wings.

The baby looks very young, dressed simply in a grey onesie and is crying pitifully.

Beverly places the phaser on the console and crouches down.  She’s almost afraid to reach out and touch the child, but she carefully takes hold of the small body and pulls it from the seat, cradling the baby gently.

“Hush, now,” Beverly says, shakily.  She stands up slowly, her eyes tracking over the tiny perfect features as the baby’s cries peter out and their blue eyes open to blink curiously back up at her.  “Hello little one.”

She shakes her head even as she smiles down at the child.

A baby has appeared out of nowhere.

This is insane.

Or someone has conjured this baby up.

“Wesley?”  She calls out, looking up at the ceiling as though it is the conduit to her Travelling son.

“I’m afraid your eldest precocious child had nothing to do with this.”

The cultured smooth voice sends a shiver down her spine even as she spins angrily to face the being to whom the voice belongs, hugging the child closer as though she can protect it from…

“Q!”

Q smiles smugly back at her, lounging in her Captain’s chair as though he belongs there.

o-O-o

San Francisco. Year 2379.

Beverly enters her apartment and kicks off her shoes, padding with stockinged feet towards her bedroom.  The thought of a hot water shower has kept her going through the final interminable meeting she’d had at Starfleet Medical Headquarters and she’s vibrating in her skin.

She strips, discarding her uniform into the laundry basket.  She wipes off her make-up and steps into the shower.  For a long moment, she simply lets the water cascade over her.

The outcome of the final meeting preys on her mind again.  She’s been refused permission to send a medical team to Tylis Prime.  They’re suffering from a plague that can be easily treated with medications that are commonplace in the Federation, but Tylis Prime is not a Federation member and it has no resources the Federation requires; their request for aide has been denied by the Admiralty and the Board in charge of Medical.

Beverly is supposed to be the Head of Starfleet Medical and she cannot provide medical treatment to those who need it. 

She’s supposed to be in charge, have some kind of…of authority yet…her opinion has been discarded; her recommendation overruled.

She soaps her hair and focuses her attention briefly on washing it clean. 

Apart from volunteering at the free clinic they run in downtown San Francisco, Beverly hasn’t treated a patient in the six weeks since she’d taken over.

It’s not like she didn’t know what the job entailed. 

She knew it was more administrative and leadership than medical practice; she knew.  She berated herself under her breath as she reached for her favourite gel with its soothing lavender perfume.

She’d previously performed the role for a year at the request of a mentor when they’d needed someone urgently in place, and she’d been grateful to get back to the Enterprise at the end of it.

This time…this time it was supposed to be her retirement track; a way to take a step back from the hustle and bustle of an active starship, indulge her research, take time to enjoy life even if she and Jean-Luc had called their relationship off again just before she’d left the Enterprise.

Her heart aches at the memory, an unexpected swell of grief stealing her breath, and she grimaces, pushing it away.  She rinses herself under the spray and steps out wrapping herself in towels.  She finishes in the bathroom, running the sonic toothbrush over her teeth and around her mouth. 

She heads into the bedroom, drying herself briskly.  She smooths lotion into her skin, determinedly thinking of nothing, and dresses in warm green flannel pyjamas.

“Glass of wine, red,” Beverly instructs the replicator.  “Steak medium rare, baked potato, and green salad.”

The meal appears and she carries it over to the coffee table.  She presses the remote to play music and winces a little as it starts with the music compilation Jean-Luc had created for her.

Beverly closes her eyes and sighs.  She shakes her head.  “Computer, display evening news on main screen, mute sound.”  She eats methodically and watches the news, preferring to read the scrolling transcript.

The daily problems of Earth politics and minor crimes wash over her. 

Her doorbell chimes as she sets her plate back into the recess and presses the recycle button.   

Beverly frowns.  There are not many people who would brave her doorstep at such a late hour.  She strides to the door and opens it.  Her expression clears straight away and she smiles widely at her visitor.

“Wesley!”

Wesley grins at her and gives her a small wave.  “Hey, Mom.”

Thirty minutes later, Beverly peers over the rim of her mug as Wesley all but licks the plate clean.  He sets aside the fork with an air of someone who is still hungry.  Sometimes she sees the teenage boy she raised instead of the man he has become.

“Seconds?” she asks dryly.

Wesley’s eyes light up.

She orders another round of spaghetti from the replicator.  He retrieves it and settles in at the small dining table to continue eating.

“So,” Beverly says, setting her mug down, although she holds onto it, her other hand wrapping around it for warmth.  “Not that it isn’t great to see you, but…”

“What am I doing here?” completes Wesley.  He picks up his napkin and swipes at his face.  His eyes meet hers.  “I can’t just drop in on my mother?”

Beverly arches one eyebrow.  “I thought as a Traveller that wasn’t really allowed?”  The whole travelling on other planes of existence as a being capable of warping time and space through pure thought was still an enigma to her despite the years Wesley had travelled the path – pun totally intended, she muses.

“Eh,” Wesley snorts as he forks up more noodles, “it’s not exactly forbidden so much as not recommended.”

“Uh-huh,” Beverly says, “so that’s why you didn’t call home for so long when you first left?”

Wesley ducks his head.  “Um…”

Beverly lets him off the hook, just pleased to see him.  She says as much.

Wesley swallows his food and nods.  “I’m pleased to see you too.”  He pokes at the dish and catches her gaze.  “You’re not happy.”

She winces inwardly at the idea her misery dragged her son from his exploration as a Traveller.  She knows her anguish and grief had already pulled him to her once before; a second time is mortifying.  “I’m fine.”

He just looks at her.

“I’m…” she waves her mug, “I will be fine.” She concedes with a deep sigh.  “I’m just adjusting to the new job.”

Wesley hums.  He finishes his meal, recycles the plate and orders himself a cup of coffee as she moves to the sitting area.  She tucks her legs under her and relaxes back against the cushions.

“I love coffee,” he murmurs as he sits at the other end of the sofa and wraps his hands around the mug and breathes in the aroma.

Beverly’s lip twitch into a smile.  His father had been the same way.

“Why did you take this job?” asks Wesley, looking up suddenly.

Beverly sips her tea and orders her thoughts.  “A lot of reasons,” she says out loud.  She shrugs.  “I thought it was time to move on from the Enterprise.”

She and Jean-Luc had finally seemed to have settled into a romantic relationship after a number of previous attempts.  But there was always the difficulty of their working relationship creating a boundary around their personal.  Jean-Luc was her lover; Captain Picard remained her nominal boss in the field, even if she formally reported to the Head of Starfleet Medical.

Professionally, she was stagnant and when Doctor N’ra had told her they were retiring and they had put Beverly’s name forward as a potential successor, it had felt like serendipity.

Wasn’t she meant to move on from being the Chief Medical Officer of the Enterprise at some point? Will and Deanna had moved on…Worf…

She taps her fingers against the ceramic.

She looks up and sees Wesley still patiently waiting on her to expand her answer.  She sighs.

“Professionally, I was bored on the Enterprise,” she admits.  “Yes, some of the humanitarian missions we were assigned brought a challenge, but…it had become routine.  Most of the time, we were simply supporting diplomatic meetings rather than exploring space.”

Wesley nods in understanding.  “And personally?”

He’s delicate in the way that he asks.  He knows, of course, about Jean-Luc, about the end of the relationship.

Jean-Luc had encouraged her to take the promotion when they had discussed it, but…

But.

There had been no reciprocal expression of desire on his part to change his professional path.  No suggestion that the offer could be the catalyst for them taking another step as a couple. 

Beverly thinks that Jean-Luc has very much taken the advice to never leave the Captain’s chair that he’d gotten from Admiral Kirk to heart.  Certainly, his commitment to his work will always triumph against any personal desires for Jean-Luc. 

It’s an admirable trait in a Captain; one that she knows engenders the loyalty and commitment of his crew in return, herself included – but it’s not such an admirable trait in a lover.

Ultimately, Beverly muses, it was the reason why she’d known as soon as she had accepted her new position that their romantic relationship was going to end sooner rather than later, the clock ticking down in her head and heart. 

“When I discussed this opportunity with Jean-Luc, I think we both realised we wanted different things for our future,” Beverly says diplomatically.  “I didn’t leave because I ended the relationship, I ended the relationship because I believed I needed to leave.”

They’d had a lovely two days arranged on Casperia Prime…and she can’t stop herself from thinking further.

They’d spent the night together, a wonderful night.  And then over breakfast, sensibly and maturely agreed the end of their relationship.  That was the last time she’d seen him since he’d been recalled right there at the breakfast table, his commlink breaking their silent acceptance of the break-up, hands held tightly across the table.

For the rest of her time on the Enterprise, Jean-Luc hadn’t actually been aboard.  He’d been reassigned to support the Romulan relocation mess and…and she was gone by the time he’d gone back to the Enterprise.  She’d left a goodbye message for him; it had felt all too final.  He’s left a couple of messages for her since, but she hasn’t had the heart to read them.

“But you regret leaving now?” asks Wesley bluntly.

Beverly shakes her head.  “Not leaving the Enterprise,” she says, and knows it for the truth as she speaks it out loud for the first time, “but taking this specific position?  I regret that, today more than other days.”

“Tylis Prime,” Wesley surmises.

She isn’t sure how he knows but isn’t surprised that he does.  She nods.  “Tylis Prime.”  She frowns, trying to hide her anger as she stares down at her tea.

Wesley gets up and moves to the sideboard.  He retrieves a bottle of whiskey that had been a gift from Will and Deanna for her last birthday.  He pours them both a measure, adds some ice, and hands her the heavy crystal glass. 

It used to belong to her grandmother. 

Beverly thanks him and takes a sip.

“You know you could take your own advice,” Wesley offers.

“My advice?” asks Beverly, confused.

Wesley smiles at her.  “What did you tell me when I called you from the Titan unhappy?”

Beverly takes another sip of whiskey.  Wesley had returned from being a Traveller the year before, wondering about the road not taken.  He’d rejoined Starfleet, secured his commission and been assigned to the Titan.  What she had wanted to say when he’d called her unhappy was: “no, don’t leave again; be satisfied with your position on the Titan, with your life as a human.” 

But being a mother was doing what was best for your child.

“You have to follow your heart,” Beverly repeats the advice she’d given him.  “Do what will make you happy.”

“And being a Traveller makes me happy,” Wesley says, “so, what would make you happy?”

She knows the question is about her work, her professional career and not the mess of her personal life, but the grief she’d pushed away earlier rises up out of nowhere and captures her voice, strangles it in her throat as emotion floods through her.

Wesley hurries to her side, puts their glasses aside and wraps her into a hug.

Beverly hugs him back, blinking back her tears. 

He’s a good kid, her son.

Her child.

And she finally lets herself grieve for his lost sibling, the child she had created in that final night with Jean-Luc and lost in a handful of weeks.

o-O-o

Medical Ship, Eleos VII. Year 2380.

Beverly adjusts her hold on the baby, getting a hand free so if she needs to she can make a grab for the phaser.  Not that it usually works with Q – omnipotence is his schtick after all.

Q looks different.  He usually shows up dressed as an adult male in a Starfleet uniform, but he’s taken the form of an elderly man with white hair and beard, dressed in a tunic style coat with simple black pants and polished boots.

“What do you want, Q?” Beverly asks bluntly.

“Tut-tut, my dear Doctor,” Q says wagging a finger at her.  “Is that really the tone you want to take with someone who has just given you such a wonderful gift?”

Beverly frowns.  “You mean the baby?”

“Of course, the baby,” Q says.  “What could be a better gift than the child you and Jean-Luc created together?”

Beverly breathes in sharply.  Q can be cruel.  She knows this.  “I doubt very much that you’re just giving me a baby.”  She all but snarls at him. 

“Ah, I do so enjoy an intelligent woman,” Q smirks.

“Do you want me to get rid of him?”

Both Beverly and Q swivel to stare at Wesley.  He’s standing across the bridge from Beverly.  He’s in casual clothing; jeans, t-shirt and denim jacket.  He glares at Q.

Q stands up slowly.  “You really think you can take me on?”

Wesley folds his arms over his chest.  “Try me.”

“With pleasure!” Q says and begins to raise his hands.

“Both of you, that’s enough!” Beverly says sternly.  She shoots Wesley a grateful look but nods at him to stand down.  She shifts the baby to her other arm. “Q, explain.”

Q sits back down slowly and looks at her seriously.

It sends another shiver down her spine.

“Some twenty years from now, a threat will emerge which will threaten the very fabric of the universe,” Q says.  “Oh, not immediately, but the ripple effect of what occurs will ultimately bring about the end of times.”

Beverly bites back the snarky response which comes to mind about Q being the emerging threat and focuses on him. 

He really means it, she realises.   She exchanges a quick look at Wesley who frowns and nods.

“He’s right,” Wesley says.  “I can feel it.”

Q snorts.

Beverly glares at him.  “That doesn’t explain the baby.”

“No, I suppose not,” Q agrees.  He steeples his fingers in front of him and leans back.  “In all the different variations of what might happen, there is only one where the threat does not lead to the annihilation of the universe, only one and the difference comes down to one man.”

“This is about Jean-Luc,” Beverly realises out loud.  Which makes sense.  Q has always been obsessed with him.

“Are you that surprised?  He so often is a pivotal character in the survival of humanity,” Q says.

She glances back at Wesley.

Wesley sighs.  “The Travellers call people like Captain Picard ‘Keys,’” he admits.  “Their decisions and actions weave threads, create reality in a way that others do not.”

Beverly can believe that.   She takes a breath as she returns her focus to Q.  “Still not explaining the baby,” she points out dryly.

“Well, what better motivation is there for a man to fight than finding out the life and welfare of his own child is at stake?” declares Q with a small smile of satisfaction.

“So, you just conjured up a baby?” asks Beverly, bemused and confused in equal measure.

“Exactly!” Q smiles widely.  “I mean, your past procreation with Jean-Luc provided me with a head start, which I thank you for because creating one from scratch out of nowhere takes a lot of energy, even for me.  I just rescued your bundle of combined DNA from the cosmic ether and…” he gestures at the child in her arms.  “Congratulations, it’s a boy; your son with Mon Capitan.”

The baby she’s holding is the one she might have had with Jean-Luc.  Hurt and yet so much want bubble up and render her speechless.

“What’s the catch?” asks Wesley.

Beverly nods proudly at him, because that is a very good question.

“Well, there is just a couple of teeny-tiny catches, that’s true,” Q says, pinching his left finger and thumb to make an inch of space.

“Which are?” demands Beverly.

“The main one is that Jean-Luc cannot know of the child until the time of the threat,” Q says breezily. 

Beverly stares at him.  “You’re joking.”

“Unfortunately, not,” Q replies.  He sighs and suddenly looks old and tired.  “If Jean-Luc knows about this child what do you believe he will do?”

Beverly knows what Jean-Luc will do.  He’s an honourable man.  He’ll take responsibility.  Beyond that, she doesn’t really know what will happen.  Maybe they’d try again at a romantic relationship; maybe they’d agree to a remote parenting arrangement…

“Jean-Luc will make choices about his own future based on the knowledge that he has a child,” Q says, rising up out of his seat and pacing a few steps from the chair.  “Others will make choices knowing the great Captain Picard has a living child.”

Worry shoots through her because Beverly had considered that the child of Jean-Luc Picard would be a target as soon as the tricorder had said she was pregnant.   It was one of the reasons why she hadn’t wanted to say anything to anybody until she’d told Jean-Luc.

“If this threat is to be overcome, then you cannot tell Jean-Luc that he has a son until the threat emerges,” Q continues, “only then will he have made the choices which will lead him to the only variation which succeeds.”

But Jean-Luc would want to know, Beverly knows that.  More importantly…

“He’ll never believe that I wouldn’t tell him,” Beverly says out loud.

Q’s eyebrows rise.  “I’m sure you’ll think of something. You of all people know he has demons to face before he finds out he’s a father.”  He claps his hands.  “Speaking of which, the other catch?  You must never tell him about my involvement.  At all.”

Beverly huffs.  “Really, Q, this is…”

“Done,” Q says firmly.  “All the legalities have been taken care of – speak the child’s name out loud and the documentation will update itself, supplies are in your quarters, and arrangements made for schooling when he’s of age.  You’ll find continued support for this little venture of yours will continue as long as it’s needed.”  He gestures around the ship with a moue of distaste.

“Why?” Beverly switches gears.  “Why do this?  Why interfere?”

Q strokes his moustache thoughtfully.  “Maybe I simply want to give Mon Capitan the experience of fatherhood, Jean-Luc is my favourite after all,” he smirks, “or sometimes it just might be that something is of galactic import and so much greater than your tiny human brains can comprehend.”

“Why involve my mother?” Wesley steps forward.  “And don’t give us that crap about it being easier to create the baby from something than nothing.”

Q arches an eyebrow.  “Do you not agree that she’s a good mother?”

Wesley glares at him.

“Let’s just say your mother has good genetics; she has already given birth to a remarkable child, and your brother – he will be remarkable too in his own way,” Q replies, his expression softening.  “And, well, I’m possibly a romantic fool as beyond the stars themselves, she is the love of Jean-Luc’s life.”

Her breath catches.

Q looks back at her.  “He’ll forgive you anything.”

“No, he won’t,” Beverly says.  If she keeps his child from him…she doesn’t think Jean-Luc will ever forgive her.

Q shrugs.  “Well, my time is up.   Tell Jean-Luc and damn the universe; don’t tell him and save it,” he smiles at her, “the choice is yours, Doctor.”

He snaps his fingers and disappears.

As if Q had planned it, the baby starts crying.

o-O-o

San Francisco. Year 2379.

“…and then when the bomb went off, he pushed me away!”

Beverly chuckles at Deanna’s affronted expression and raises her cocktail glass filled with a vodka martini.  “I’m sure it was to save your life.”

“Maybe,” Deanna allows.  She drinks deeply from her own cocktail, a chocolate martini.  “I swear the man hates me.”

“He’s the Security Chief,” Beverly points out dryly, “and you were there against the orders of the First Officer who was trying to negotiate the Captain’s – your husband’s release from a hostile native population.  I’d hate you if I were him.”

Deanna’s dark eyes twinkle.  “Thank you for your support,” she quipped.

Beverly raises her glass again in a silent toast.  “Knowing you and Will are married and navigating that can’t be easy for some of the crew,” she points out. 

“I know,” Deanna allows, “and I know I should be more understanding.”  She sighs.  “I may owe Commander Rwell an apology, although she did write me up for the insubordination.”

Beverly sips her martini.

Deanna shifts position on the screen, leaning forward.  “Enough talk of me, what about you?  I want to hear all about this new project!”

Beverly brightens.  She tells Deanna about how the proposal to establish an independent medical ship which could provide assistance to Federation or non-Federation planets has already been approved.  She and Wesley had based the concept on Doctors Without Borders with a hint of Red Cross thrown in. 

She’s set up an organisation as an independent not-for-profit charity and has been lucky to secure some grants and generous independent donations to seed the initial money.  Starfleet had also agreed to sell a ship to her (with occasional maintenance and repairs included) and donate medical supplies as needed if she was engaged by them to support their own efforts. 

“Honestly, I can’t quite believe that it’s come together so quickly,” Beverly concludes.  If Wesley hadn’t flat out denied it, she would have believed that some other force was smoothing the way.  She’d anticipated the project taking at least a year to get off the ground – for it to have only taken a couple of months was shocking.

“It is very quick,” Deanna notes carefully.

Beverly arches her eyebrows.  “You think I’m being impulsive?”

“Beverly, three months ago you transferred from the Enterprise to be the Head of Starfleet Medical and now you’ve taken an extended sabbatical and set up this project which will keep you alone in deep space for months,” Deanna says.  “Can you blame me for being worried?”

Beverly sighs and sips her martini.  She puts it down to look her friend squarely in the eyes across the vid screen.  “I made a mistake taking the Head of Medical role.”

“I thought you’d enjoyed your time at Starfleet Medical though when you were there during the Enterprise refit?” Deanna murmurs.

“I was teaching and doing research with a young team of doctors on a cure for a plague on Helos V,” Beverly responds.  “I loved it.”  She holds up her hand.  “The Head of Medical role is mostly bureaucracy with a little bit of teaching and research on the side when you can fit it in.  I didn’t like it when I did it before and I don’t know why I’d thought I’d enjoy it any better now.”  She sighs. “Looking back, I thought it was time to move on and I realise now that I leaped at the first opportunity which I already really knew wasn’t right for me given my previous experience of doing it, and…” she shrugs.  “I created the proposal for the project; it provides me with the challenge I need professionally.”

Deanna hums.  “And you’re sure you’re not just reacting to your latest break-up with Jean-Luc?”

Beverly smiles sadly.  “Nope,” she says crisply and holds up a hand when Deanna makes to say something.  “I don’t deny that this time it feels final and that…I’ve taken some time to accept that, but I think we always knew we are better as friends.”

“I’m sorry,” Deanna says. “I feel like a terrible friend, this is the first time we’ve caught up properly for months and I…I could have given you an ear about the end of your relationship or, I don’t know, helped you with the proposal or reaching out for donations.”

“If you want to do that now I’ll be happy to take the money,” Beverly half-jokes.  “Look, give yourself a break.  You’ve had a new ship and crew to get to know, you’re newly married…and to be honest I haven’t been the best at staying in touch myself.”

Deanna raises her empty glass.  “That makes me feel better,” she admits.  She refocuses on Beverly.  “Have you heard from the others?”

Beverly nods.  “I ran into Worf the other day at Starfleet.  He was debriefing.”  She shrugs.  “Geordi insisted on choosing my ship and running an inspection on it when I dropped him a message asking for advice.”

In hindsight, she can see that she’s been keeping everyone at arms’ length because of the miscarriage.  Initially because she’d wanted to tell Jean-Luc that she was pregnant and didn’t feel right talking to her other friends about it before she had told him, and after the loss…

She’s made the decision not to tell Jean-Luc – it would only hurt him to know and what would be the purpose of telling him – which means that she can’t really talk about it with their mutual friends as that would put them in an untenable position.  She’d realised after bumping into Worf that she’d barely talked to anyone since she left the Enterprise.  She’s made a little bit of an effort since.

Deanna’s look turns pointed.  “And Jean-Luc?”

Beverly shrugs, trying for nonchalance.  “We’re playing message tag with each other.  I hope to speak to him before I ship out.”  She honestly does.  She values her friendship with Jean-Luc.  But there’s a hint of warning in her voice.  She hasn’t lied to Deanna; she has grieved her romance with Jean-Luc and accepted it’s over.  She doesn’t want Deanna playing matchmaker.

Deanna sighs and picks up her drink.  “I think I’m turning into my mother,” she says with a hint of disgust in her tone, “I just want you everyone to be as happy as I am with Will.”

“Sometimes it doesn’t work out,” Beverly says simply. 

Deanna looks about to say something when something or rather someone captures her attention off-screen.  Will suddenly appears behind her and grins at Beverly.

“Sorry, ladies, I thought you were due to finish an hour ago,” Will says.

Deanna rolls her eyes, even as her hand catches his at her shoulder.  “We’ve been catching up on Beverly’s new job.”

“Ah, yes, heard about your new project,” Will says.  “Doctor Orop is all agog and scandalised.”  He waggles his eyebrows.

Beverly laughs because Orop is one of the most vocal supporters of her project.  She drains her glass and puts it down.  “I should get going.  There’s a million things I need to do before I set off in a couple of days.”

“Tylis Prime,” Will says.

Beverly nods.

“Good,” Will says.  “They need the help.”

“Just…stay in touch,” Deanna says.  “We want to hear all about it.”

Beverly smiles at him, grateful that her friends support her endeavour.  “I’ll try, but I’m probably not going to be too available getting this project up and off the ground for the next few months.  Communication is likely to be an issue when I’m working.”

“Understood,” Will says.  “Just stay safe out there and if you need help at any time…”

“Thank you,” Beverly says sincerely.  “Take care both of you; take care of each other.”

Will and Deanna smile at each other, love and affection written all over their faces.  Deanna kisses Will’s hand.

Beverly waves a goodbye and finishes the call.  The screen blinks into black.

Sadness creeps in. 

She knows friendships change over time; it’s normal, usual.  Friends who see each other every day suddenly or not-so suddenly transfer and it becomes messages and vid-calls only when schedules align, maybe a shared shore leave if in the same place at the same time, or like with Worf – an unexpected meeting and catch-up lunch.  People marry, have children…become less involved with other friends in the wake of that.  Or the worst-case scenario like Data, they die. 

Data’s death still hurts. 

Her comm sounds.  It’s a message from the shipyard.  Beverly refocuses.  She has a new job and renewed purpose; it’s time to get to work.

o-O-o

Medical Ship, Eleos VII.  Year 2380.

Beverly places her son into the crib and stares at the small scrunched up features.  She can see the shape of her chin, the slant of Jean-Luc’s nose.  The thin baby hair is a reddish-brown; a mix of them both.  She suspects the eye colour will change into a darker tone in the coming days.

She picks up her medical tricorder and reviews the output.  He’s aging at a faster rate than normal.  Possibly because he’s been cooked-up with whatever cosmic magic Q utilises and in reality if she had not miscarried, she’d only just be entering her third trimester of her pregnancy.  She figures that he’s always going to look older than he is, but that the aging will stop eventually.

She strokes a finger down one plump cheek and shuts the tricorder off.

A shift behind her alerts her to Wesley reappearing; he’d disappeared the day before to try and substantiate Q’s story.

Wesley walks around until he’s stood on the opposite side of the crib.  “Is he alright?”

“Sleeping,” Beverly says, “finally.”

Wesley hums.  “He’s tiny.”

“He’s a new-born, two days old according to the scans,” Beverly says.  “His DNA is a combination of mine and Jean-Luc’s.  He’s healthy.  All fingers and toes accounted for.”

Wesley smiles as the baby stretches.  “Have you thought of a name?”

“Jean-Jacques,” Beverly says.  “Your Dad won a bet with Jean-Luc back when we served on the Stargazer together.  Jean-Luc agreed to call his first born after your father.”

Wesley makes a face, but nods.  “Not going to lie, kind of weird that you call your kid with another man after Dad, your first husband, but I get it.  They were best friends.”

“Well, I figure we’ll call him JJ rather than Jean or Jack until he decides for himself what he wants to be called,” Beverly admits.  She sighs heavily thinking about their situation.  “Did you find out anything about Q’s threat?”

Wesley nods.  “As much as I hate to say it, there’s just enough I and the other Travellers can sense that gives credence to Q’s story.”

“So, if I tell Jean-Luc…”

“It becomes unlikely that he’s in the right place to deal with the threat when it emerges,” Wesley says.  He grimaces.  “As much as I hate to say it, Q may be right.”

“Damn it,” Beverly says.  She sits down on her bed and Wesley walks over to sit beside her. 

“What are you going to do?” asks Wesley.

“I can’t take the risk,” Beverly says, testing the words out loud.  “I don’t trust Q, but he’s used Jean-Luc before in his schemes and I can’t shake the feeling that he was telling me the truth.”

Wesley nods.  “How are you going to stop the Captain from finding out about JJ though?”

Beverly bites her lip and sighs.  Her eyes flutter closed for a brief second as though she can block out what she’s about to do.

“Mom…” She can hear Wesley’s worked it out in the shock vibrating through that single word.

“I’m going to have to break off contact with everyone,” Beverly says.

Wesley’s hand grasps her and she holds onto it tightly.  “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Beverly says simply, sighing.  “I can’t put them in the position of knowing about the baby when Jean-Luc doesn’t.  That’s why I didn’t tell anyone about the pregnancy or the miscarriage before I left the Enterprise.”

Wesley squeezes her hand.  “Does anyone know?”

“Besides you?  No,” Beverly admits.  “I was early in the pregnancy.  Once you left, I called in sick for a couple of days.  I did do a full scan just before I went back on duty to make sure I was physically fine.”  She grimaces.  “I recorded it in my medical file, but I guess if anyone asks – I just made a mistake which I didn’t realise until later.  Bleeds can happen and pregnancies can endure.  The fact that I didn’t get examined by another medical professional will help sell it.”

Wesley’s face screams that she’s given him too much information which sparks a touch of amusement inside of her, lightening the horror she’s feeling at what she needs to do.

She shakes her head. 

Worf and Geordi will take a while to realise that she’s cut off communication.  She tends to be the one to reach out to them and when they finally do realise or get prompted into reaching out to her, they may feel momentarily hurt, but she believes that they’ll ultimately assume she has a reason and wait for her to resume contact. 

“Will and Deanna are expecting a call,” Beverly says out loud.  “I could probably do that one and set it up so they don’t expect me to be in contact for a while, especially if I suggest I’m focusing on giving aid to former Maquis colonies in the old DMZ.”

“And Captain Picard?” asks Wesley.

Beverly winces.  They still hadn’t spoken face-to-face since their break-up breakfast.  They’ve left messages – she’d left a video message for him when she’d left the Enterprise, he’d provided one to her when he’d missed the vid-call they’d had set-up just before she’d departed for Tylis Prime.  His video message had hinted at his want to try again.

“Perhaps we were too hasty ending things without trying something long-distance,” Jean-Luc smiled down the camera, his eyes warm and open.  “I’d like to see if we can’t at least try, Beverly.”

“I can leave him a message asking for some space,” Beverly plans out loud.  She knows he’ll acquiesce and by the time he realises that it’s likely she’s decided against contacting him at all, enough time should have gone by that he’ll accept it rather than challenge it.

Jean-Luc will be hurt though.  Immensely.  They’re more than occasional lovers.  They’re also best friends.  She knows he has few people in his life who he can confide in the way he can with her, and with her decision, she’s abandoning him.

He still has Will and Deanna, Beverly comforts herself.  He’ll still have Worf and Geordi even if their relationships with Jean-Luc are still more based in traditional Captain-crew respect than a friendship beyond the uniforms. 

And there is always Guinan.

Beverly has to put her duty first.  Q’s plan is awful but if he is right and the universe depends on Jean-Luc not finding out until their son is grown…she has to follow it and put the safety of the universe ahead of her continued friendship with Jean-Luc.  Maybe…maybe when JJ is an adult, she’ll give him the choice, but in the meantime…

She sends a silent heartfelt apology through space to Jean-Luc; sends another to her child for keeping him from his father. 

“Q was right, you know,” Wesley says softly.

Beverly sighs and glances at him.

“He’ll forgive you,” Wesley says.

Beverly attempts a smile and fails.  “Let’s hope,” she settles on saying. 

Wesley’s gaze drifts to the crib and she lets hers do the same. 

“I should do a computer check, make sure the legalities are as taken care of as Q suggested,” Beverly notes.

“I can do that,” Wesley offers.

She nods because he’s much, much better at that type of work than she is.

“Actually,” Wesley says with a touch of hesitancy, “I think I’d like to stick around and help for a while, if that’s OK with you?”

Beverly’s eyebrows shoot up.  “Are you allowed to?”

Wesley shrugs.  “I think this is where I’m meant to be for now.  We’re going to need to make sure the latest Crusher is protected, right? And while I know you’re a kick-ass awesome single Mom…”

Beverly smiles at his fulsome praise, warmed inside by his confidence in her. 

“…my abilities can help ease the way for us, right?”

“Right,” Beverly agrees and hugs him.  “Well, I’m never going to say no to spending time with my son.”  She stops and corrects herself.  “Sons.”  She blinks.  “Oh boy.”

Wesley chuckles and they part.

She stands and goes over to the crib. 

Her youngest son is sleeping peacefully.

Wesley stands on the other side again and grins at her.

She can do this, Beverly thinks determinedly.  She’ll raise her son, protect him, just like she’d raised and protected Wesley.  One day, her son will help Jean-Luc save the universe, and perhaps one day after that Jean-Luc may forgive her for taking this choice away from him.

o-O-o

U.S.S. Titan. Year 2404.

Beverly knows the bridge is organised chaos; the alarms blaring, lights flashing – but it’s as though the world is silent and still as all she sees is Jean-Luc.

Beverly’s grateful for Will’s arm around her, supporting her, keeping her upright because she’s barely healed.

Jean-Luc’s eyes meet hers as she reaches the railing and takes hold of it, a question she’s been waiting for in his eyes.

It’s over twenty years.

They’re in danger.  They’ve been in danger for weeks.

This has to be the threat Q talked about.

But the words are stuck in her throat.

She’s protected her son for so long, breathed a sigh of relief when Jack had decided to follow the plan and not tell his father despite she suspects hunting him down.  She lowers her head, takes a breath and opens her eyes, her direct gaze meeting Jean-Luc’s question head on.

Jean-Luc saves their son from being transported away, and when the Titan’s Captain demands why, he declares out loud the secret Beverly has kept.

“Because he’s my son.”

And in that moment her world changes.

fin.