Fic: Fair Trade part 7

[so_jang]

Title: Fair Trade part 7
Author: me!
Rating:PG-13, technobabble, blood, angst
Notes: Remember that clip I was obsessed with? The one with Beverly's crazy hat? Yes, well... Link to TNG clip

Betaing & thanks:miriel helped me with the idea and gave me happy thoughts when I got stuck. **lanna_kitty** the hallowed and loved, betaed this like there was nothing else going on in her crazy life. She helped with characters, plot, grammar...everything!!! She rocks. (and helped me channel the divine Mrs. Troi)

Summary: When Captain Picard disappears on a shore leave on a nonaligned world, the away team goes under cover to try and find him. Worf uses an unorthodox cover story and it spirals out of control. Crusher/Picard with significant Riker/Troi leanings. (yes, I wrote another damn babyfic...)

|| part one || part two || part three || part four || part five|| part six ||


Guinan set the Sumerian Sunset, her second of the evening, in front of her with a smile that suggested she could feel the joy radiating through Deanna just as well Deanna would have if their positions were reversed. “On the house,” Guinan offered softly. Starlines drifted lazily past the windows of the Ten Forward and the this evening the room was nearly full. Around the slim counselor, the varied crew of the Enterprise went about their leisure time, drinking and talking, but more glances than usual were headed Deanna’s way.

Attempting to be less obtrusive, Deanna had chosen the far corner table instead of Will’s favorite by the third window. Facing the wall and the first window, she had her back to the room. As an empath, the room was the same to her no matte where her face pointed, but this positioning let the crew smile when they saw her without becoming self-conscious.

“Sometimes coming home alive is the best morale booster you could ask for,” Guinan pointed out as she noted the smiling faces.
Snapping her finger against the rim of the glass, Deanna watched the burst of color with a brilliant smile before lifting it in a salute. “The captain being back is wonderful, isn’t it?” she asked.

Guinan saw someone coming in from the other side of the lounge and nodded to Deanna as she moved on. “I don’t think it’s just the captain. You know as well as I do, it’s a family here. When the captain comes home after nearly being declared dead, when a certain counselor convalesces, the family comes together. It would have come together regardless, that’s what families are for, but this way the family can come together smiling.”

Deanna looked up into Guinan’s ancient eyes and smiled wickedly. “I suppose Will carrying me through the corridors of the ship, bleeding all over the carpet, wasn’t very good for morale either,” she teased.

Guinan’s secretive smile took on a darker tone. “You do know there are ensigns who get assigned the carpet cleaning detail,” she reminded her.

“I do usually make an effort not to bleed anywhere,” Deanna retorted imperiously. “I think have earned a little leeway." Lifting her drink, she sipped it as she surveyed the room. Ten Forward was a full, pleasant place this evening and served as a sharp contrast to the bars she'd been in planetside. Renewing her smile at Guinan, Deanna remarked, "It’s good to be back.”

“We’ve missed you,” Guinan finished with a nod before she walked away.

Stretching out her abilities to touch the mind of the person Guinan had been watching, Deanna felt a tight knot of emotion. It wasn’t the captain, his mind had a unique peace to it that wouldn’t have had that sense of being tangled. Somehow, the great intellectual Jean-Luc Picard was going to find a way to have his cake and let his child smear it all over his ship too. Like the captain, lately Will’s thoughts were similarly focused and remarkably clear.

Will’s presence she would have recognized without feeling for him. Their connection ebbed and grew as if it had it's own seasons, but for the last week it had been so strong she could feel him walking the ship. Deanna probably could have put her finger on his exact position on a schematic of the Enterprise if she’d been asked. No, Guinan wasn’t looking at Will, because he was still on a shuttle with her mother.

He’d volunteered to fly the shuttle tasked with transferring Lwaxana Troi from the USS Gorgo to the Enterprise. With the Enterprise out in the distant regions of aligned space, Ambassador Troi had been required to transfer through four Federation Starships, two runabouts and a starbase to get to her daughter. Lwaxana had been certain to keep Deanna uprised of every transfer with a long-winded communique. Even with the consistent barage of mockingly berating messages haralding her mother’s arrival, Deanna was thrilled she was coming. She still wasn’t sure why Will had volunteered to spend at least two hours alone in a very small space with her mother but he’d promised to explain.

The quietly controlled knot of feeling moved closer to her, and Deanna straightened the deep blue fabric of her dress over her legs and let that mind approach her instead of seeking it out. Nearly shivering as she brushed across that mind, Deanna watched a hand reach out to fidget with the candle on her table. Tension in that mind was as palpable as as a knot in her own neck, and it was something that had to be worked out, alternatively dug into and soothed until it faded back into the smoothness of normal.

“Mind if I join you?” the question and the tone of Beverly’s voice was light but the mind behind it was taut like a forcefield.

“Please,” Deanna offered warmly. The first layer of tension in the other woman’s mind eased and it was like a string coming loose just a little on the surface of the ball. “I’m just waiting for Will. He’s decided to brave having dinner with my mother, as soon as she arrives.”

Toying with the candle, Beverly swirled it around so the hot wax ran up the sides of the glass. “I heard he decided to relieve poor Ensign Jordan,” Beverly’s voice was teasing but the knot behind it was pulsing with intensity.

Bound to give Deanna a headache if she concentrated on it, the knot of emotion was something she needed to approach slowly. Reaching for something else, Deanna surveyed the room. A ensign in the corner was entertaining fairly erotic feelings for one of the petty officers, one of the lieutenants was relating a hilarious story about his interlude planetside with an Andorian and two of his mates and Guinan was contented. Staying with the mind of the bartender, Deanna smiled brightly and looked up at the face behind the candle.

Leaning in a little, she forced a mocking seriousness into her tone as she teased, “You look much better.”

Beverly's laughter wasn't forced but it was harsher than usual. The loop on the surface of the knot unwound a little and Deanna thought she might be able to tug it free if she concentrated. “You’ve been getting that too?” Beverly guessed lightly.

“Every time I turn around,” Deanna teased with a mocking sigh of exasperation. Watching Beverly's hands release the candle and move on to the sleeve of her dark green dress, she wondered if she should call attention to the perpetual motion problem. Deciding it might be easier to work on one thing at a time, she cloaked her exploration of Beverly's psyche in gallows humor. “It’s hard to take credit for looking slightly better than a corpse.”

Emotionally, a full layer of string unwound as Deanna’s verbal tug had the desired outcome. The uppermost layers were guilt, and Deanna could feel almost them unwind into her hands like thick, black twine.

Beverly’s hand reached across the table and clamped down on Deanna’s wrist. Staring at the white glass of the table before she spoke, Beverly lost the battle to remain still when her knee started moving up and down. "Oh Deanna--"

“Beverly,” Deanna retorted firmly before Beverly could finish her thought. Bringing her hand to cover the other woman’s, she continued to smile as warmly as she could. “I don’t even have a scar. Even the captain’s clumsy, worse than a first year medical student ministrations failed to do any damage. I’m concerned I may have to start facing the fact that I’m just as tough as my mother.”

Making the other woman laugh was almost as useful as letting her cry, and another loop emerged from the knot. Beverly’s eyes were damp, her lips were quivering slightly, the way they did when she refused to acknowledge something deep and terrifying, and her fingers refused to remain still. It was one of the quirks of strength that made Beverly an incredibly trying patient and endeared her as one of Deanna’s very best friends.

Flying to her sleeve, Beverly's hand tugged at the hem until it was almost up to the doctor's knuckles before she released it. Repeating the motion, her hands only stopped when Deanna reached for them and squeezed them warmly. "Have you had supper yet? You’re welcome to eat with Will, my mother and I. You’re not telepathtic, so you won’t be subjected to the talking my mother can do with her mouth full. Believe it or not, meals can actually be very quiet with her around.”

Shaking her head slowly, Beverly had obviously missed most of what she had said. Unable to fidget with her hands, her entire body nearly shuddered as she lost the outlet for her nervous energy.“You saved my life,” Beverly whispered and stole her hand back to rub at her eye. “You turned right into that phaser blast and saved my life."

“Yes, I did,” Deanna answered. The guilt was unraveling faster now, filling her hands with reams of thick black twine. Guilt wasn’t important. The black was the superficial part of the tangle. The softer red yarn was anger and frustration. All the red would slip free on its own eventually. What she needed to worry about were the filamentuous strands of green. Every time she got closer to a strand, it slipped through her fingers, insubstantial as a soap bubble.

Mentally placing all the black twine of Beverly’s in one pile, Deanna felt the first tentative bursts of color wash across her mind that heralded the arrival of her mother. Lwaxana’s full mental presence was like lying in the warm sun coming through a stained glass window with her face turned up into it. Surrounding her mother like an irresitable aura, Lwaxana’s personality was an empathic force of nature with all the beauty and subtlety of a Klingon opera.

Beverly’s hands twitched but she kept her grip on Deanna’s.“You could have died,” she suggested.

Hearing the swish of silk as Beverly’s skirt as her knees bounced nervously, Deanna nodded. “Yes, I could have,” she agreed. “i could have turned too quickly and failed. The mission could have failed. The mercanaries could have used better weapons and killed us all. Captain Picard could have stopped my heart. Your radiation and drug cocktail could have killed you.”

In Beverly’s mind, Deanna finally managed to grasp a few of the green filaments and hold them long enough to start working them free. Running deeper than rage or guilt, the green was softer than both and more difficult to hang on to.

"Oh Little one," Lwaxana’s voice began in her head. "You really should have come to give your mother a hug when I arrived in Jean-Luc’s cavern of a shuttlebay. I know I’ve taught you better than that."

"Mother," Deanna replied calmly keeping her eyes fixed on Beverly’s. "I’m delighted you’re here but I’m in the middle of a conversation. You’re going to have to make do with Will as an escort."

Making her feel like a cat tormened with a string, the answer to Beverly’s misery was nearly within Deanna’s reach. “None of that happened,” Deanna reminded her friend. “We’re all right. We all made it home and everything is all right. There’s no point in dwelling on what might have been.”

"Many Betazoids can carry on two of three conversations at once," her mother insisted in her head. "You should really try to prevent treating yourself like a limited being. It’s beneath you."

Deanna’s smile broke through and even though Beverly’s eyes now full of tears, she seemed curious. “What?” she asked.

Grinning as she answered, Deanna released Beverly’s hand to touch the tears on her face. “My mother’s here.”

Beverly’s tiny smile was deeply reassuring in its sincerity. Brushing her tears away, she teased, “Come to collect on Jean-Luc’s debt?”

“In addition to making sure I”m really in one piece,” Deanna replied. Wiping the dampness gently from Beverly’s face, she reached in to caress the green filaments as well. “To borrow my mother’s words,” she paused and changed her tone to what she had been told was an excellent imitation of her mother. “Thinking too long about what could have happened is about as useful as trying to wake your father with a thought. Both of them only end in the sound of snoring.”

Beverly nodded weakly in acceptance the cup of tea Guinan set in front of her. “My grandmother had a similar philosophy,” she replied.

"Little one," her mother interrupted again. "Just who is the little stressbunny you’re sitting with? Her mind’s a mess of anguish, poor thing."

"Mother," Deanna replied with a chastising mental nudge. "She’s working through it. In another few minutes, I think I can get her to acknowledge what she’s feeling."

Lwaxana’s mental shake of her head in response felt like a shower of color from an explosion of varigated rose petals. As her mother drew closer in proximity, the sensation of her mind expanded through color and into the smell of night-blooming Ocorai from home. The heavy sweet scent hung in her mind as if she’d been walking through the jungle in mid-summer.

"I suggest you hurry it up," Lwaxana sent. "That stressbunny of yours is going to make herself ill if she doesn’t start calming her thoughts. Now if you just tell her-"

"No, mother." Deanna was firm. "Part of human emotional development requires coming to certain epiphanies on their own. She’ll find it, you’ll see."

Running a hand through her hair, Beverly’s eyes were suddenly far away. “Her’s had something to do with horses and fish,” she continued. “I don’t remember the whole thing anymore.” Spinning the cup of tea on the table, she bit her lip before she managed to finish. “I came here to ask you something. I started to go to your quarters but the computer said you were here.”

Coiling the red yarn and setting it aside from the knot, Deanna reached mentally for the last of the mess. The rage was gone. The guilt was neatly set aside and all that remained was the most nebulous part of the tangle. The filamentous green surrounded her like ancient silk about to fall apart. Holding the strands of thought together with gentle hands, she echoed the motion corporeally by stopping the slow circles Beverly was making with her cup.

“You can let it gnaw at your mind for the next few days,” Deanna suggested. “If you like, you can see me tonight after dinner, or tomorrow morning and we can talk about it then.” Looking up into Beverly’s soft, still teary eyes and the starkness of then tension in the rest of her face, Deanna confronted her. “But if you’re ready, you know you can tell me.”

Beverly blinked twice against the tears in her eyes before she spoke, “I thought I just felt guilty because you saved me.”

Running her hand up from Beverly’s cup to her cheek, Deanna smiled cheerfully. “I don’t think I need to remind you how many times you’ve saved my life,” she reminded her.

“Deanna, you didn’t just save me,” Beverly finally revealed. Fading away like a harmless wash of color, the filaments finally unraveled.

"I don’t know how you’re ever going to leave the Enterprise, little one," Lwaxana’s voice echoed through Deanna’s mind. "I don’t think any other captain would deserve your talents."

Mentally thanking her mother for the compliment, Deanna focused on the new emotion. Instead of a knot, it was delicate and insubstantial, like a piece of seaweed caught in an underwater current.

“Your son,” Beverly started to explain. “What happened to you with the being you called Ian, if it hadn’t happened, if he hadn’t come to you, I wouldn’t have been able to...” Prying out from Deanna’s grip, her right hand left the cup and slipped down to rest on her stomach. “Jean-Luc’s child, our child, would have died.”

Lwaxana’s mind reached out to her daughter in a wash of warmth. Love and sympathy suffused Deanna like the heat of a campfire, chasing away the cold darkness of the loss of her son. Like a hand reached out through darkness, Lwaxana’s mind eased her daughter’s burden and shared the weight of that loss. Between telepaths, the healing exchange of emotion only took a moment, but Deanna lacked the same efficiency when it came to the woman sitting across from her.

Leaving her chair to circle the table and slip into the bench next to her friend, Deanna gently dropped her hand to Beverly’s womb, just over the one of her own already there. “Ian died to preserve the lives of the crew,” she reminded her gently. Resting her chin on Beverly’s shoulder, she let affection fill her voice as tears welled in her eyes. “I didn’t get to know him very well, but I know that he valued our kind of life enough to want to experience being one of us. Where ever he is now, he would be pleased to know he had some part in the creation of another life.”

Leaning her head over to rest against Deanna, Beverly’s smile broke in time with the a breath of sweetness in her mind. To Deanna, it felt like the first hint of dawn peering over a dark horizon.

Feeling the tension start to leave Beverly’s body, Deanna sat up and hugged her tightly. As Beverly released her, Deanna smiled bittersweetly and concluded, “As his mother, I know I’m right.”

At a loss for words, Beverly simply held her hand as Deanna returned to her chair. Comfortable silence hung between them, warm and mild, much like the dawn in Beverly’s thoughts.

It wasn’t until Beverly started to leave the bench, that Deanna felt Will’s presence enter the room. He was contented, even amused and he felt like the first whiff of delicious food, sneaking across the room. He was also hungry and that reminded Deanna why she’d really come to Ten Forward. He kissed her cheek and asked all of his questions about the tears in her eyes in a rush of gentle concern.

Nodding that she was all right, Deanna turned to greet her mother properly. Lwaxana, dressed in a maroon, gold and black dress that managed to fuse the majesty of Ancient Greek gods on Earth and modern Betazoid fashion, had skipped right past her daughter and had enveloped Beverly Crusher in a crushing embrace.

She’d even been in such an apparent rush to do so that she’d dropped the one suitcase she had near the door of Ten Forward and a bewildered looking ensign was returning it to her feet. Lwaxana even ignored Deanna’s mental nudge for a moment as she finished her hug.

Will leaned in close to her ear and whispered, “I didn’t think they knew each other that well.”

“They don’t,” Deanna replied under her breath. “I think mother’s just sensing that Beverly could use a little mothering right about now.”

“Each time I see her, I’m surprised,” Will said. Grinning in amusement and sinking into the chair by facing the window, Will left a chair between Deanna and Beverly open for Lwaxana.

Instead of taking it, she released Beverly from her arms, kissed her left and right cheek in quick succession, and remained contented on the bench next to her. With one arm still resting protectively on Beverly’s knee, Lwaxana turned to her daughter and radiated her happiness with every fiber of her being. Even though it was now tempered slightly with the sensation of loss, it was still akin to sitting in full view of one of the most spectacular sunsets Betazed had ever offered.

“Little one,” Lwaxana began aloud without the need for Deanna’s prompting. “You look stunning. I’m glad Jean-Luc was able to add field medic to his list of accomplishments, but I do wish you’d be more careful.”

Will inclined his head to the very polite waiter standing in the background. “Would you still care for the Nerezshja?” he asked Lwaxana.

Deanna caught Beverly’s confused expression and explained, “It’s a traditional Betazoid dish served on special occasions. It’s only made in large portions and must be shared or it’s said to cause catastrophic bad luck.”

“And colorblindness,” Lwaxana added briskly. “Yes Will, thank you. We will all share the Nerezshja,” she told the waiter with a quick wave of her hand. Bending to retrieve her suitcase from the floor of Ten Forward, she patted Beverly’s knee reassuringly. “Don’t worry, bunny. You’ll love it because it’s exotic and delicious. Good for you too.”

Watching Beverly’s lips purse in amusement, Lwaxana anticipated her question. “Yes, yes, of course Jean-Luc can join us. He’s busy on the bridge but I’m sure if you call him with one of your shiny little badges he’ll be right down. I’d call him myself but he might think I’m just trying to get my money.”

When Lwaxana winked at them, Will started to chuckle and Deanna felt herself joining him. “Fifty bars is a considerable sum,” he offered graciously. “You were very kind to loan it to us.”

Lwaxana nodded imperiously as she set her case on the bench beside her and began to rummge through it. “Don’t be silly Will,” she said. “Jean-Luc’s far too pretty for prison. Besides, if I had known he was becoming a father I would have just included it as part of his Izadjal.”

Will and Beverly both shot Deanna puzzled looks as she felt her own astonishment light her face in surprise. She explained quickly, “Betazoid parents celebrate the quickening, or the moment they become telepathically aware of an unborn child, with the Izadjal. Those who are dear to the new parents give them gifts.”

“Like a baby shower?” Beverly guessed.

“I don’t know why that bizarre terminology is appropriate but yes,” Lwaxana agreed as she found her answer in Beverly’s mind. “What you're thinking of is similar. Now, since you’ll never be able to telepathically speak to your child, I’m free to celebrate whenever I want. I choose today.”

Will chuckled and sipped his synthale as if he was being allowed to watch a holonovel unravel in front of him.

“When one comes from a noble family, such us ours,” Lwaxana continued magnanimously, “The gifts typically become quite extravagant. If Deanna were to have a child-”

“-Mother-” Deanna interrupted.

"I have to try, Little one," Lwaxana mused telepathically.

“Anyway,” she returned to speaking. Pressing an object into Beverly’s palm with a metallic clinking, Lwaxana folded her fingers around it. “This, Beverly, is for you. It’s quite old and remarkably sturdy, you can take it in the shower and let Jean-Luc’s little one bash it into things. That’s the real beauty of ancient Betazoid craftsmanship.”

Peering over Beverly’s fingers, she felt her mother’s rush of generosity and realized what Lwaxana had retrieved out of the case. Feeling her eyebrows shoot up in surprise, Deanna just stared at her mother in shock when she saw what it was.

“It’s beautiful,” Beverly murmured as she stared down at the palm of her hand. Within her fingers sat a heavy stone wrapped in delicate, golden metal. Cut into a faceted tear drop, the center of the brilliant blue stone held a single mote of light seeming to burn entirely independent of the light in the room. “What is it?”

Deanna leaned into Will’s shoulder and shook her head. “It’s a Betazoid soul diamond,” she muttered in shock. “They’re supposed to represent the inner peace in the souls of their owners and never go out, even in total darkness. That one in particular is over eighteen hundred years old and has been in my family for twenty-two generations.”

Sharing Will’s surprise, Beverly would have dropped the necklace to the table if Lwaxana hadn’t been holding her fingers around it.

“Little one,” Lwaxana began warmly with her eyes fixed on her daughter. “You’re always telling me your family is here, on the Enterprise. Since you seem to have no desire to start making one, I’ve decided I agree with you and accept your family as my own. Traditionally, this would go to my elder daughter, but since you’re making no progress towards making a family of your own. I’m giving it the woman who is the closest thing you have to a sister.”

“Ambassador Troi,” Beverly tried to resist. “I really can’t accept this. It’s part of Deanna’s inheritance.”

“Nonsense,” Lwaxana insisted with a firm shake of her head. “Calling me ‘ambassador’ isn’t going to make me any more reasonable, either, little bunny.”

Patting Beverly’s shoulder as the other woman realized that the nickname was going to be as hard to get rid of his Lwaxana’s new affection, Deanna sighed and managed to smile.

Lwaxana accepted a frosty purple beverage from Guinan with a suddenly serious expression. “I’m an eccentric old woman,” she admitted candidly. “Who lives in a huge house mostly by herself full of ancient things from another lives in another era that was long ago left behind. Humor me and accept this. Keep it. Look at it occasionally and remember to be happy. You’ve never owned anything remotely this lovely and believe it or not, little bunny, you deserve it.”

Pausing and feeling out Beverly’s mind, Lwaxana turned to Will instead and started to laugh. “Occaisonally Mister Holm can be surprisingly good company,” she replied to his thought.

Taking her napkin off the table, she settled it preemptively in her lap before she kissed Beverly’s cheeks again, first right, then left. “Be happy,” she wished the younger woman firmly before she looked at her three dinner companions. “Now, get your napkins off the table,” she ordered. “Dinner will be here in less than a minute and you don’t want to miss this. Better get the captain down here too. Put that big Klingon in charge for awhile. He looks serious enough to handle things. He can growl at any problems your ship might have." The door hissed open behind Lwaxana's back, but she immediately smiled when she recognized the captain's presence. "Speak of the devil," she exclaimed. "Here he is."

From her vantage point, Deanna could see the trepidation on the captain's face and watched with amusement as he put it aside. Speaking quickly to the bartender, Jean-Luc had a bottle of wine cradled in his arms. Realizing he'd brought out the infamous Chateau Picard, Deanna felt her smile brighten. The chair between Deanna and Lwaxana was still empty, and as the captain approached the table, Deanna felt his spike of curiosity as he saw Beverly entwined in her mother's arms.

Taking her mother's hand, he kissed it politely. "It is good of you to grace us with your presence, Ambassador," he greeted.

"Jean-Luc!" her mother replied warmly. "You are a devil, aren't you? Snagging this sweet little bunny-"

Beverly's lips pursed again and she seemed to be realizing the nickname was now unshakable in Lwaxana's presence. Deanna started to say something, but Beverly waved her quiet. "It's better than the dancing doctor," she decided lightly.

Will beamed and finished his ale as the tall wine glass was set in front of him. "The dancing doctor?" he asked.

"It was a long time ago," Beverly tried to put the subject to rest.

"Don't be modest," Lwaxana interceded as she watched Jean-Luc's hand rest on Beverly's shoulder. "You were, and continue to be quite good at your dancing. The captain finds it incredibly attractive. That's why he'd never dance with you."

Jean-Luc raised his eyebrows and managed to simply shrug in response. "I shall attempt to rectify that in the future," he said.
He started to take the chair between Lwaxana and Deanna, but the formidable ambassador stood and shook her head to rebuke him. “You sit here,” Lwaxana offered as she left the seat on the bench next to Beverly.

Pulling out the chair he’d been about to sit in, Jean-Luc let her slip past him. Lifting the bottle of wine as he began pouring the glasses, he smiled warmly at the food. "You know, Lwaxana, I've never had the opportunity to try Nerezshja. I hope it goes well with Paulliac, it's the forty-one and my brother swears this is one of the finest his vineyard has produced." Glancing meaningfully at Beverly, he raised his eyebrows in apology. "I have one other bottle I'm saving for a time when you can participate."

Beverly's half-wicked smile lit her face. "I suppose I can only blame myself," she teased.

Beneath her smile, Deanna could feel the sudden stabbing of guilt in her friend. Some of Beverly’s emotional whiplash was hormonal but it was nearly impossible to differentiate. Her responses would be off for awhile, possibly even the rest of her pregnancy. That already intrigued her, Deanna hadn’t yet been in long term proximity to a friend who’d been pregnant. She’d speculated, but she’d never been right there.

Will seemed completely unable to stop grinning. "You really only have yourself to blame, don’t you?" he asked.

"Unfortunately yes," Beverly replied and resourcefully poured her tea into her wine glass. “Though I intend to conveniently forget from time to time.”

“As well you should,” Will teased playfully as he moved his glass towards the bottle to be filled. “Don’t let him off easily.”

"I would lead the toast," Lwaxana offered as she lifted her glass. "However, Jean-Luc would be rather disappointed because he's been coming up with one all evening."

"Can't have that," Will agreed with a wink. Deanna felt his amusement with the sweetness of an exceedingly ripe uttaberry and lying beneath it were notes of very deep emotion. Like rich chocolate, his affection for everyone at the table warmed her soul. Reaching for that lock of hair on his forehead that seemed to fall out of place just so she could fix it, Deanna returned the feeling.

Her mother's thoughts had slipped into one of her more protective parental moods. The power of Lwaxana's mind resonated through Deanna's being as if her mother were embodying the rich, hearty scent of one of the more simple stews on Betazed. Smiling at the way her mother's hand remained on Beverly's knee, Deanna embraced her own gratitude that her mother was here.

Beverly's mind was softer, more conflicted, but finally at some kind of ease. Her continuing relief and guilt were balsamic vinegar and olive oil, mixing into something palatable and symbiotic. She wasn't sure yet if she was comfortable being all things she needed to be at once. Leftover emotions, bits of memory, and things she’d forgotten to say wandered in her mind like herbs baked into the crust of bread. They were too numerous and too subtle to be identified but Beverly's emotions were softening and no longer stressed.

"Thank you, number one," Jean-Luc accepted politely. Lifting his glass to the center of the table, over the many plates of multi-colored Betazoid vegetables and soups that made up the traditional Nerezshja meal, he radiated a more restrained contentment. Though they were more like cheesecake, where the sweetness was more subtle, the captain's emotions were a pleasant harmony with Will's.

Taking a moment to clear his mind, Jean-Luc searched the faces around him. His patient inventory as slow and measured as he took control of his audience before he spoke.

He didn’t get the chance.

“I apologize for the interruption,” Data’s voice was polite and apologetic. The circle of glasses lowered and Will looked at his glass rebelliously as if he intended to take a sip regardless. “May I say you look well, Ambassador Troi,” he acknowledged with a slight nod and Deanna recognized his protocol for dealing with dignitaries. “Captain, Admiral Nechayev has read the second addendum to your report of the events in the Suukan courtroom. She contacted the Enterprise a few minutes ago and requested I bring her response to your immediate attention.”

“Balderdash,” Lwaxana interjected with an annoyed wave of her hand.

“Pardon me, Ambassador,” Data responded curiously. “I do not understand your objection.”

Breaking a piece of the soft bread that came with the Nerezshja, Will passed the piece to Deanna with the same indomitable grin as he listened . Passing it to Beverly as tradition required, Deanna indicated with her hands that Beverly should pass it on to Lwaxana. As the matron, Lwaxana would eat first. The next piece Will tore off went to Beverly, then Deanna, then Jean-Luc, in traditional order of sucession.

“Doesn’t the captain get time off?” Lwaxana continued with an exasperated sigh. "Mister Android, he’s been on the bridge all day, poor man deserves to have dinner with his family. Tell her he’s trapped in the holodeck or negotiating with a Grizellean for mining rights.”

“I apologize again,” Data replied. His expression had begun to change to his puzzled yet fascinated look he wore as student of the humanities. “I understand your objection to the captain leaving dinner, what I did not understand is your method of dismissal. In particular, the word you used is unfamiliar.”

“Data,” Will interrupted before Lwaxana could launch into a long winded explanation of the etymology of balderdash and reasons why Starfleet Admirals deserved to be dismissed as such. “Why don’t you join us?”

Sharing Will’s amusement and agreeing with his idea, Deanna stood and made room for the waiters to add another small table to the one they had already filled. “Yes,” she said. “Data, we’re about to eat one of the cultural dishes of my people. It could be an interesting experience for you.”

“Counselor,” Data asked as he took a chair primly next to Will. “I am curious as to why we are choosing to ignore the admiral’s communique.”

“Mister Android,” Lwaxana interrupted as she dabbed her bread in the rich red sauce on the edge of the dish.

“Ambassador,” he replied. “Please refer to me as Data. Android is my species, not my surname.”

Closing her eyes, Lwaxana took a bite and smiled contentedly before she continued her verbal sparring match with Data. “Have you ever considered getting one? Might make you feel more human if you had too names to contend with like the rest of is.” Then with exaggerated care, Lawaxana used his first name, as if to prove she knew it. “Data, the captain should be celebrating. He can write reports and send communiques when he has a full stomach. He’s been through enough, let him have a few moments with his friends and this dear little bunny. Not to mention the sad fact that since he was so daringly rescued by his crew, he hasn’t had a moment to even acknowledge the change in his life, let only revel in the wonder of it as he should.”

Data tiled his head and watched them eat with wonder. “You are referring to the impending birth of Captain Picard and Doctor Crusher’s child?”

“I am referring to life, you shiny Pinnochio,” Lwaxana replied with warmth instead of frustration.

Patting Data’s white hand, Deanna explained for him, “Mother means that in an endearing sense.”

“A diminutive used between friends,” Data replied. Nodding he filed that away and seemed oddly honored by it. “Like the Ambassador’s comments on your stature, or her referral to Doctor Crusher as a member of the family Leporidae.”

Waving down the waiter for extra napkins, Lwaxana tucked one into the cleavage of her brilliant maroon dress and let it hang down the front. “Life, especially new life, is always worthy of a glass of wine and a good meal.”

“To good company,” Jean-Luc intercepted Lwaxana’s explanation and formed it into a quick toast. The circle of glasses clinked together and Deanna caught the flash of amusement in Will’s eyes and followed it to the joined hands of Beverly and Jean-Luc resting on the edge of the table. The continued contact was forcing the captain to eat with his left hand but the simple nature of the meal kept that from being a hindrance.

“Doctor,” Data asked after observing the passing of bread that accompanied the meal. “I am curious. Does physical contact with the father of your child become more pleasant after conception has occurred?”

Deanna choked and the rich red wine in her mouth stung the back of her throat. Will was laughing outright, his face buried in his napkin. The captain’s grip on Beverly’s hand spasmed in surprise but recovered. Lwaxana’s eyes never left her dinner and she seemed entirely unperturbed as she used the crusty bread to eat. Watching as the flush pinked Beverly’s face, Deanna tried to catch her breath.

“It was hardly unpleasant before,” Beverly deadpanned. After a moment, she attempted his question more seriously. “It is very difficult for humans to measure emotion. I don’t think I could quantify it for you.”

“Thank you,” Data said. “I only inquire because I notice that you and the captain are now engaging in public displays of affection which is a behavior I have not witnessed between you before. Due to its recent appearance I wonder if it is an extension of your pregnancy.”

“Data,” Jean-Luc ventured into the conversation and Deanna felt the mixture of embarrassment, pride and a new, gentle disregard for appearances become cohesive in his thoughts. His explanation was abruptly halted when someone across the room began tapping their knife on their glass. Someone else joined in, then another and after a minute or two the entire lounge was filled the sound of metal chiming off glass.

“I think you’re going to have to give a speech,” Will stated the obvious for his captain when the other man didn’t move.

“It’s all right,” Beverly murmured across Lwaxana towards the captain as she squeezed his hand. “I’m surprised it stayed a secret this long. When it comes to gossip, the Enterprise might as well have a crew of fifty.”

“Good for you! Little bunny, that’s a very constructive attitude,” Lwaxana admired. “It’s usually only too human to want to keep secrets.”

Leaving his chair with great reluctance, Jean-Luc allowed Deanna to refill his wine glass before he made his way to the center of the room. Keeping his eyes on Beverly until the last, his gaze circled the Ten Forward before he began to speak.

Someone in the back, near the window, simply began to clap. Jean-Luc lifted his hand, but the clapping continued. The sound of applause swelled like a living thing until all of Ten Forward rang with it. Deanna felt her eyes start to sting again. The wash of emotion was warm and heartening, a kind of love that seemed to hum like the main deflector and hold just as much raw power.

Caught in the wake of his crew’s public salute to his very private good news, Jean-Luc opened his mouth when the applause started to fade. To the surprise of everyone in the room, the captain said nothing at all. His lips moved and Deanna could see his fingers fidget with the glass in his hand, but he made no recovery.

Hearing the rustling of silk to her left, Deanna expected to see Lwaxana floating to the captain’s rescue and instead she saw Beverly, her pale red hair glowing in contrast to the green dress, take the captain’s arm and stand beside him.

“Thank you,” she began gently to speak for the man at her side. “I’m sure you all have felt that here, on the Enterprise, we share the same father. He is our guide, our protector, our confidant and our teacher. He counsels us when we fear the greatness of own potential and allows us to soar when that potential is realized.”

Jean-Luc’s arm held her very tightly to him and Beverly stood easily in his grasp. “Though I was an only child,” Beverly continued, “I’ve heard rumors that the arrival of a new sibling causes discord in a family and I would like to assure you that this baby, the captain’s baby, in no way takes away from your relationship with your father.” Her tone was light and soft laughter echoed through the room.

“He will still care for you, right your wrongs and lead the way on our journey through the stars,” she promised. “I only have one request that will affect you elder siblings.” Pausing to bring her eyes back to the captain, Beverly’s expression seemed entirely serious. “We make a deal, the captain’s yours during the day as long as he always makes it home to tuck the baby in at night.”

Lifting his glass of Chateau Picard in her direction, Will nodded solemnly. “Deal,” he replied cheerfully into the gentle laughter at the end of Beverly’s toast.

“To the captain,” Beverly’s louder tone resonated through the room. Light glinted from raised glasses, the captain sought shelter by resting his forehead against Beverly’s and Deanna basked in affection that surrounded her. Lwaxana looked especially touched as she let tears of joy run openly down her face.

As the crew began to drink, Will leaned in close to her shoulder. His hand was on her back and Deanna could feel his pleasure radiate from him. He had to get in the last word and with a wink, he raised his glass only to her. “Make it so.”

Hitting his shoulder, she shook her head at him and raised her own glass. "To the future. Theirs and ours."