Ink and Waterstains | part ii | TNG/VOY
headers and notes, see part i
The water rolls in the pot, silver bubbles against the copper bottom of the pan. Kathryn stares at it, watching the steam rise. It's a violent action for so small a space. It's beautiful too, as if she could touch it without scalding her flesh.
She won't, she's already been scalded enough for one day. Nechayev had it right when she walked Kathryn home from the hearing. It's less than a court martial; more than a debriefing. She saved lives. Protocol is less important than the people those rules were written to protect. Kirk would understand, as would Captain Garrett.
Garrett was a good one to bring up, Kathryn may have winced at Kirk. Had anyone told her a year ago that Alynna 'Ice Queen' Nechayev would be her stalwart protector, Kathryn would have laughed at them. She may have contemplated tossing them in the brig and checking to see what universe they were from if they went on to say she'd be married and pregnant: two things she's always meant to do, yet failed to find the time.
She still barely has the time, yet she's trying.
Beverly's hand runs across the small of her back, then her chin rests on her shoulder.
"Kathryn, you've proved a watched pot boils. You'll be getting a T'Varit Award for sure."
"I'm sorry."
She meant to put in the pasta minutes ago.
"It's all right. Go, let Kate look you over while I rescue dinner."
Kathryn tosses a glance towards the living room, where Kate Pulaski sits patiently talking to the Maestro. He's more than happy to be admired and Kate seems to adore him.
"Have I mentioned I'm terrible with doctors who aren't you?"
"At length, and your EMH warned me at the wedding that you'd be exceptionally difficult." Beverly smiles and leans in closer. "I like a challenge."
Kathryn hovers near the stove, remaining within Beverly's arm instead of heading into the living room and facing her other challenge of the day. Antenatal appointments are nothing to fear. Everything's fine, and Beverly's told her that enough that Kathryn believes her wholeheartedly. Protocol dictates that a doctor can't treat her own wife, so Kate Pulaski, Beverly's colleague, and a friend, volunteered for the challenge.
Beverly drops pasta into the water, stirs it once and then sets down the spoon.
"Everything all right?"
Kathryn nods wearily. "It's been a long day."
"Don't let the Brass Inquisitors get to you."
Beverly strokes her cheek, then kisses her, lightening the moment.
Kathryn doesn't know how to tell her that she may be in real trouble. That accepting Romulan help is well and good when you're Captain Picard and you've just saved Earth, but slightly harder to explain when you let them cross into Federation territory with enough ships to destroy your relief fleet. Not that she'll be demoted, or get anything more than a bureaucratic slap on the wrist and a new assignment.
How do you ask the woman you love to give up the top job in her field to follow you to the ends of Federation space and look after a space station full of eccentric scientists and thousands of family members? Kathryn can't handle that tonight, so she steels herself for Kate Pulaski.
"She's going to be mean to me, isn't she?"
"Terribly so."
"Remind me again why I married you?"
"You feel the need to torture yourself and I'm amazing in bed. Go, be good."
Kathryn starts taking off her jacket as she heads into the living room. She should be grateful. Prestigious doctors don't usually take the time to monitor the uncomplicated pregnancies of stubborn admirals. She could have some all too eager junior doctor, or the EMH's brusque manner. He would take coffee from her hands and lecture her about the sleep she's not getting.
Pulaski might be kinder. Beverly likes her, so does Da Vinci, and both are good signs.
"Your cat really fancies himself the lord of the house, doesn't he?"
Smiling at the cat, Kathryn sits down and leaves her jacket on the chair behind her.
"And everything else he can see. He graciously allows us to live here because we feed him to his satisfaction."
"I've never had a cat, but I've had many friends with them, and can see the appeal. It's always nice to have someone who appreciates that you've come home."
Kate's smile is knowing, a bit too much like Kathryn's mother's, but she hasn't begun any lectures yet, so that's a start.
"Your medical history is quite a read through. The usual, of course: lacerations, brain trauma, contusions, broken bones. Then you went for the truly unique and were assimilated by the Borg, infected with a macrovirus, experimented on by unethical aliens, and my personal favourite: turned into an amphibian."
Her genuine smile at that, mixed with scientific wonder, wins Kathryn over, and she smiles back.
"I was tempted to list that as a previous pregnancy, but I don't remember it nor can I be sure I didn't lay eggs, so it probably doesn't count."
"Probably not. Good try."
Kathryn looks at Kate's empty hands, then down at her belly before she met her eyes again. "So, what do you need to do?"
"Starfleet regulations stipulate that you are examined every few weeks during your pregnancy with our visits increasing in regularity as you enter the last part of your pregnancy. You've missed the first few appointments-"
Frowning, Kathryn begins to protest that she had every intention of making them: she just became busy so easily that she lost track of time.
"It's all right, Admiral. No one blames you for being busy. Beverly asked me to put you on my patient roster because we're old friends, and she knew I wouldn't mind a few oddly scheduled appointments."
Kate reaches for her medical kit and opens it up on her lap, taking out her tricorder. "I'm also a stubborn old war horse of a doctor, who's tough enough to handle you." She smirks at this and removes the little probe from her tricorder.
"Your EMH has extended notes about your disinclination for medical advice, but I've worked with Mark Ones enough to have wanted to smack them in the photons a few times, so I think we'll get along fine. Now, do you mind if I run a tricorder scan?"
Kathryn nods, watching the little light start to blink in Kate's hand.
"I'm checking your blood for your rhesus factor, the baby's chromosomal profile, electrolytes, rate of nutrient absorption..."
Letting her continue the list, Kathryn watches the data flood into the tricorder and reminds herself not to strain her eyes trying to read it upside down. No indicators are red, and she knows enough about medical tricorders to know that's a very good sign.
"Your medical record lists Captain Picard as the father."
"Yes, he was our donor."
"You are aware that the replacement of his heart was in no way due to a congenital defect, so you have nothing to worry about."
Kathryn nods again, smiling faintly. "He was quite concerned that I know everything there was to know about his genetics before Beverly and I made a lifetime commitment to raising them. Jean-Luc assured us that his youthful rashness was a learned quality we might be able to avoid."
"I can see that. How very gentlemanly of him." The scan finishes and Kate reads it over, when she looks up, she offers Kathryn the tricorder. "Everything's normal. Heart rate, growth targets, brain development: and no signs of amphibious characteristics."
"That's a relief."
"Your baby might feel like a tadpole, but I can assure you, it's a phase."
Feel? Kathryn stared at her, suddenly nervous. "I haven't felt anything."
Kate's expression immediately softens. "Don't worry. Some babies take their time making their presence known. Each one's different. You might feel it-"
"We've been calling the baby Three." Kathryn doesn't like it. Snakes are it. Three is Three.
"Three?"
"The third part of our collective. We might be spending too much time with Seven of Nine."
Kate cocks her head, smiling in acceptance. "I've known couples to come up with nicknames before, but yours certainly is unique. You might notice Three's moving around weeks from now, or tomorrow. Whenever it happens, it's perfectly fine."
She waits, patiently, as if Kathryn will have something else to say.
"I hate waiting."
"Your kind always does. Comes with the red uniform. Now, unless you have any other questions, lets have dinner."
Kate stands, scratching Maestro's head before she puts away her tricorder and heads towards the kitchen.
Kathryn stares at her, then jumps to her feet. "That was it?"
"I needed a full tricorder scan I could sign off on for the record. Beverly and I agree you're in excellent health, and I'll note that officially. Unless you have any questions?"
"No. No questions, thank you Doctor."
"My pleasure, Admiral." Kate says it sincerely and Kathryn relaxes. It is easy to trust her, Beverly was right about that. "Come on, let's eat before Beverly puts us both on report."
"I can help you with those." Kate stands as Beverly does and grabs a few plates from the table.
"You don't have to."
"I can talk with my hands full."
Beverly smiles at that and nods. "We used the real plates, so they all need to go into the dish drawer."
Kate stacks her cutlery on her plate. "You don't wash them by hand?"
"Only when Kathryn's mother is around."
"Traditionalist?"
"Worse than my grandmother." Beverly opens the drawer and starts slipping dirty plates into the rack. One sonic cycle and they'll all be clean. She lines glasses along the side and looks up to Kate's patient smile.
"Think the inquiry's going as bad as she looks?"
Sighing, Beverly leans against the cabinet. "She won't talk about it."
"How many times have you brought up your reprimands over dinner?"
Beverly crosses her arms, trying to remember if she was reprimanded while she was married. "I didn't get my first formal reprimand until after Jack was gone."
"My second ex would stew for days."
"Kathryn's in that camp."
Kate drops in a handful of dirty cutlery, then brushes her hands clean. "Makes you wish she'd just come home and collapse into tears, doesn't it?"
"Would make things easier."
Kate nods, looking to the silver coffee pot on the counter. "Mind if I make a pot of coffee?"
"I'd love some, thanks." Beverly grabs coffee from the cupboard and sets it down while Kate fills the pot.
"Did you talk to Picard?"
"Jean-Luc's not on the best terms with Admiral Rossa since he allowed her grandson to stay with the Talarians, and I occasionally doubt Nsomeka's on good terms with anyone."
Kate watches the ground coffee settle in the water and steals a glance towards the living room. "Alynna thinks she'll be transferred. Too good to demote and too maverick to keep at headquarters. Logistics or heading a research department."
Beverly shakes her head. "Both of which she'll hate."
Kate pats her shoulder sympathetically. "I heard Doctor Rickon asked for a transfer."
"Off Deep Space 6? I saw the paperwork this afternoon." Beverly takes down coffee cups from the shelf above the sink.
"You do know who he's married to?"
Beverly has to think for a moment. "Something I have the hardest time pronouncing."
Kate grins. "Admiral Whfayllnzk."
"The commander of Deep Space 6." Beverly remembers, spilling a little coffee as she pours. "No, they wouldn't--"
"I think Alynna will push for it. Who would you rather have dealing with Romulans and scientists, Kathryn or Admiral ch'Ursek?"
"ch'Ursek thinks science is a waste of time."
"So he'd go over well out there."
Beverly sets down the coffee pot and tucks a piece of hair behind her ear before she turns back to Kate. "I didn't have much luck with my last deep space station."
Kate winces at the memory. "You lived."
"Thanks to Kathryn and some Romulans willing to violate a whole set of treaties."
"Triage."
Kate's quip brings a smirk to Beverly's lips.
"Quite possibly." She wraps her fingers around the heat of her coffee, letting the idea simmer. "Deep Space 6."
"Stuttgart-class, constantly overcrowded, ignored by Starfleet command, last station before the end of the universe."
"What do they call it?"
"Uluru station."
"Uluru station," Beverly repeats, trying it out. "I was just saying I wanted to see patients again."
"Were you wishing?"
"Maybe I was." Beverly takes a slow breath and stares into the dark surface of her coffee. "Well, if that's where Kathryn's going, it solves the problem of replacing Doctor Rickon."
"Because that's the difficult post to fill." Kate shakes her head and starts looking around the kitchen with more interest. "How do you like your apartment?"
"The view from the balcony is incredible."
"And you have a bathtub."
"A palatial one." Beverly starts to smile. "Is this your way of volunteering?"
"We've traded places before."
Beverly sips her coffee. "And we've both swore we'd never go back."
"You did."
"I needed a change."
"Maybe I do."
"Maybe you just want my apartment."
Da Vinci leaps onto the counter in front of them, presenting his fur for adoration to them both.
"He's coming with us."
"Too bad." Kate scruffs his head. "He'd love my dog."
"You have a dog?"
"An old mutt of unknown parentage. She spends most of her time sleeping in the middle of my sofa."
"It's nice to have someone to come home to, isn't it?" Beverly should shoo the cat off the counter, but it's a lost cause. He seems to enjoy it up there anyway.
"Annabelle's sweet, but she's not quite a wife and a baby."
"Three's still pretty little."
"I hear space babies sleep better."
Beverly laughs and rubs Da Vinci's ears. "I may have said that a few times."
"We can't prove it."
"But that's not the point, is it?"
Kate smiles, then sighs. "I don't envy you. Transfers led to one of my divorces."
"We'll make it work." It's still just rumour and Beverly can't plan her life around rumours, even if Kate's been a reliable source in the past.
They talk until the coffee's gone and Kate heads home with a parting hug.
Beverly sets the mugs in the dish drawer and sets it to cycle. They'd been talking about moving. Kathryn thinks Three needs a yard, and Beverly's always liked the quiet. A little village in South America has some appeal, but this is the other direction entirely. There are not yards and gardens on the fringes of Federation space. Caldos is nearby, and she still has a cottage there, even if her most recent memories of that building are unpleasant. Ronan's gone, and he can't come after her again. She has more pleasant memories of that cottage than frightening ones.
Caldos is close enough for trips to grass and trees. Three can play in the same forests Beverly did. She gives the kitchen a final glance, then shuts off the light. Space stations are better than starships for children, easier to evacuate, more other kids of the same age and Deep Space 6 is full of families.
She'll have more time for Kathryn and Three if she's only the chief medical officer. CMO's get to go home at the end of the day, even if they occasionally get dragged out of bed in the middle of the night. It might not be so bad.
Beverly checks her plants before she goes to bed. She hums as she moves between them, picking off dead leaves and making sure the soil is moist. She has an old song running through her mind, one of those where she only remembers a few bars, but they're comfortable notes.
Kathryn isn't reading, which is odd for her. She's been lost in a book for the last few days, poetry of some sort. She was still reading when Beverly fell asleep last night, but tonight Kathryn doesn't have the interest. She was quiet at dinner, but she seemed to enjoy the company. Beverly and Kate did their best to keep the conversation out of the medical sector, but Kathryn was distracted. They could have talked about anything.
Her PADD's on her lap, but Kathryn's only half-reading her communiques. She's scrolling too quickly to be paying much attention to the words. She's not looking up, so Beverly leaves her in her world and settles down in bed next to her without comment. Rain drizzles the window outside and she listens to that and the soft sounds of Kathryn's fingers on the PADD.
"You served on a space station, didn't you?"
Not exactly a subtle question, but Beverly's not ready to ease her into the discussion. Kathryn needs to bring it up properly and Beverly's stubborn enough to make her.
"Starbase 34, before Jack died." Beverly opens her eyes but doesn't roll over.
"The Stargazer was based there?"
"She was. So every time he came back, Wes and I used to meet him at the airlock." That's a bittersweet memory and she rolls over, resting her head on Kathryn's shoulder.
Kathryn's hand runs shyly down Beverly's arm. It's so hard to be angry with her when she's vulnerable.
"Maybe he'll write."
Beverly stares down at the slight rise of Kathryn's belly and Three, who will be an ordinary child, not Mozart. "He does, when he remembers that time's passing differently for me."
"Does time pass for him at all?"
Sitting up onto her elbows, Beverly looks up at Kathryn. "I don't know. Not in a way you or I understand, and I'm happy for him, I really am, but I miss him. I miss knowing he was just on Earth and I'd see him occasionally, but this is what he needs to be doing."
Kathryn blinks a few times, too quickly. "I'm sorry he's not here."
"Me too, but you're here. Three's here, Maestro's here. Here isn't so bad." Beverly means to soothe her but Kathryn's too sensitive. Here is about to be somewhere else and she's not ready to talk about it yet. Beverly's not sure she's ready to talk about it either. Head of Medical is several steps away from Chief Medical Officer of a space station in the middle of nowhere. Kathryn's being punished and Beverly's career is going on hold again.
She does that. She did it for Jack and Wesley, she can do it again. Starfleet Medical and all of its paperwork will still be there when Three's grown up and Four and Five are in the Academy. She rests her hand on Kathryn's belly and smiles. She'll be angry tomorrow, maybe for sometime after that but the dust will settle and she'll get caught up in her patients and love what she's doing. That was why she got into medicine.
"Three's getting so big."
"I thought I didn't look big."
Beverly kisses her cheek, wishing she could skip the next few days and move on to the part where neither of them is holding anything back. She doesn't trust herself yet, she'll say something, snap, hurt Kathryn's feelings or lose her temper. She has to wait.
"You look beautiful."
Kathryn sets her PADD aside, slips down in the bed and rests her hand on top of Beverly's. "Did you believe Jack when he said that?"
"He never said it."
Arranging her pillow, Kathryn stares at her in disbelief.
"He used to joke that a woman as intelligent as I was should understand that I was beautiful as a matter of course, and thus never need to be reminded of what she already knew."
"Did you hit him?"
"I thought about it, but no, I let him think he had me and got back at him in some terribly glib fashion later."
Running her thumb slowly back and forth over Kathryn's belly, Beverly snuggles in closer to her and kisses her cheek. "When I say it, however, I'm repeating myself, because I'm a doctor, and that's what we do."
"Right. You're not going to ask that I believe you as a matter of scientific fact."
"Oh no, I've learned that no one listens to me until I've told them at least a dozen times."
Kathryn shuts her eyes. "That's so true, isn't it?"
"You have no idea." Beverly kisses her forehead, lingering over Kathryn's right eyebrow. "You look beautiful. Three rounds you out and your breasts are gorgeous."
"They hurt."
"Beauty is pain."
Opening one eye, Kathryn glares at her. "Thanks."
"Sleep. I'll see if I can do something about your breasts in the morning."
"You're such a tease."
"Yes, yes I am."
"I don't like it."
"Of course you don't." Beverly holds her close, reminding herself that all storms pass, even this one.
"How many of those hyposprays can you take in a day?" Gretchen's gaze is stern and Kathryn wilts as she lowers the hypo from her neck.
"As many as I have to."
"You could give up coffee."
Kathryn doesn't dignify that with a response. "Caffeine inhibitors were invented so I don't have to do give up coffee."
Gretchen drops her eyes back to the term papers she's grading her way through. "Will you be joining us for New Year's or do you have other plans?"
Though Kathryn appreciates that her mother is trying to change the subject she can't lie. "We won't be able to make it."
"Oh? Big Starfleet party you have to show yourselves at?"
Kathryn shakes her head, wishing she could say something else, anything else. "We'll be in the Beta Octantis sector, on Deep Space 6."
"Deep Space 6?" Her mother runs that through her head. "Is that as far away as I think it is?"
"Further. It's out past the Neutral Zone, on the fringes of Federation space."
Gretchen rolls her eyes towards the ceiling, setting down her stylus and PADD. "Do I even want to know what you'll be doing out there?"
"I've been transferred."
"Temporarily?"
"I've been asked to take command."
"Of a space station so far away that you're past the Neutral Zone? Why not just head back to the Delta Quadrant and drag your wife with you."
Dropping her head into her hands, Kathryn tries to ignore the twisting knot in her stomach. "I'm not dragging Beverly."
"She's not going?"
"She'll be my Chief Medical Officer."
"Which sounds far less important than Head of Starfleet Medical." Gretchen folds her hands in her lap. "She loves you."
"She married me."
"She's a good woman, Goldenbird, don't mess this up."
For a moment, Kathryn can picture her father standing behind her mother. She remembers their looks that said Justin would never like dogs and her mother's glances when she thought Mark wouldn't be able to keep up with Kathryn's lifestyle.
"Were you given a choice?" Gretchen leans back in her chair. "This transfer, did you have other options?"
Kathryn hasn't put too much thought into her other options. She hates logistics and she'd be miserable working in that department. Admiral Nsomeka would make sure she had one of the most hated assignments, supervising civilian traffic along the Cardassian border, or something that kept her travelling all the time so she never saw Beverly or Three.
"Kathryn, why aren't you staying here so she can keep being head of Medical?"
"My options were limited."
"But you had options, didn't you? You made a decision."
Kathryn clutches her fingers together in a knot, resting her chin on them. "Yes."
"You're just like your father. You know, he'd walk through that door and tell me about the next dangerous mission he'd signed on for. We'd argue. I'd yell, he'd yell back, eventually I'd be in tears and he'd storm out into the fields. You get that from him."
"I'm not storming anywhere." Turning her eyes to the floor, Kathryn presses her thumbs into her forehead, wishing she could banish her headache. "I'll apologise."
"I'd start with that."
"Mom--"
"You asked her to quit her job, move to the other side of the quadrant and do a job she's far overqualified for."
"I'm not overqualified to run the station?"
"Are you?"
"Of course I am."
Gretchen raises an eyebrow, feigning surprise. "Oh?"
"It's a station full of families and squabbling scientists. It's the last stop before the middle of nowhere. A commander could run it."
"But they chose you."
Too frustrated to sit, Kathryn left her chair and paces. Her back aches at the base of her spine and she doesn't know how to make it stop. "They're punishing me for defying their damn orders and saving thousands of people."
Her mother reaches over and picks up her knitting, straightening the yarn and starting a new row. "Are they punishing Beverly too?"
"Of course not."
"Didn't she say the station should be destroyed?"
"She was being cautious."
"Overly cautious?"
"No, no, Beverly made the right call. We couldn't have let the virus reach another station, or a planet." She can't even imagine what that would have done on a planet.
"So Beverly deserves to keep her position and you don't."
"I went against Starfleet's authority."
"Because you knew better?" Gretchen's knitting needles click in a steady rhythm.
"I was there."
"And you knew better?" Gretchen stresses the end. "You always know better."
"I did what had to be done. Starfleet command wasn't there to see it."
"So you can't follow orders?"
"I don't follow orders when those orders lead to senseless deaths."
Gretchen shakes her head and smoothes her knitting, checking for dropped stitches. "You don't follow orders?"
"I don't when--"
"Kathryn, I'd ship you off to the fringes too. You don't follow orders."
"I do when they make sense."
"How fast would you have put Chakotay in the brig if he behaved that way on your ship?"
"That's different."
"Because he has to follow your orders and you don't have to follow Starfleet's?"
Kathryn leans against the wall, sighing. She's caught and it's an uncomfortable trap. "My orders make sense."
"Starfleet has a hierarchy, whether or not you believe in the skills of those above you is irrelevant because they're above you. You have to listen to them, just like I have to listen to department heads who think we don't need to teach archaic programming languages because anyone can look them up."
Watching the holosnap of her father, Kathryn smiles weakly. "You sneak archaic computer languages into your finals every year."
"You can follow your own orders out there." Gretchen waves her over to her desk, holding up whatever it is that she's been working on. It's pale purple and Kathryn can't help worrying it's for Three. "Do you think Three's going to be early or late? I need to request my time off now."
"You'll have to come all the way out to Deep Space 6. It's eighteen days on a starship, over a month on a civilian transport."
Gretchen aligns her knitting, and as Kathryn worried, she's working on some kind of adorable little jacket. She can't help worrying that the baby insanity is spreading. Tom and B'Elanna already want to send them some of Miral's old things.
"Someone better pull some strings and see that I can hitch a ride on a starship."
"It doesn't work like that." Kathryn shuts her eyes while her mother holds up the jacket to her belly. It's a useless gesture; there's no way Gretchen could extrapolate the size of her grandchild based on the rise of Kathryn's stomach. "I don't have a starship."
"Three's father does. Chakotay does and that charming man who married you, he has a starship."
"Will?"
Gretchen leaves her knitting on her desk and stands to hug her daughter. "I liked him. He's very funny."
Burying her face in her mother's neck, Kathryn hates her eyes for stinging. She doesn't have a reason to cry but her eyes don't want to follow her orders. "He's one of Beverly's best friends."
"You need good friends."
"I know."
Releasing her, Gretchen grabs her arms. "Tell her. Apologise. Grovel."
"Yes mom."
"It'll be all right."
"I know."
Gretchen smiles, trying to cheer her. "Now, Admiral daughter, I want to meet Three's father. Do you think that can be arranged?"
Looking at her blankly, Kathryn rests a hand on her hip. "You met Picard at our reception."
"I spoke to him for a few minutes about how lovely the champagne was and how happy you and Beverly were. I'd hardly say I met him."
Backing up, Kathryn tries to remember when the Enterprise will next be in the sector. The flagship so rarely returns to Earth that she worries this will be difficult to schedule. "There's plenty of information about him in Starfleet's public records. He's had a long career."
"What he did with a starship isn't him. I want to know what his laugh sounds like and if he'll come to our Federation Day picnics."
"I'm sure he'll come if he's in the sector."
"Does he have family?"
Retreating to the kitchen for a glass of water, Kathryn takes tiny sips to avoid triggering her over-sensitive gag reflex. "A sister in France, his brother's widow."
"Starfleet?"
Kathryn sets down her glass and the hand on her hip creeps forward to rest on her belly. "Civilian. There was a fire, their house was old, far from the fire station-- Picard's brother and nephew died. His sister-in-law is his only family aside from us and the former crew of the Enterprise."
"Beverly's old senior staff friends you mean: The Trois, Geordi and that lovely Klingon fellow."
"Worf."
"Such a polite man."
"He was an Ambassador for years." Kathryn rubs her hand slowly over her stomach, wishing the twisting sensation would calm. It's more foreign than nausea but it's nearly as pervasive.
"He was such a help with the set up."
"She's very close to all of them."
"Like your crew." Gretchen takes potatoes from the cupboard and starts making her lunch. She wanted Kathryn to stay, but relinquished when Kathryn mentioned the opera.
"It's different than Voyager."
Beverly wasn't the captain, the senior staff were closer to the same age, her ship wasn't stranded and no actions of Beverly's took everyone else away from their families. Will, Deanna, Geordi, Worf and Picard are more like siblings than Tom, B'Elanna, Seven and Harry can ever be to Kathryn. They're too young and she was their captain for too long. She should ask Picard how he does it, because he laughs more with his crew than she does.
Gretchen glances at the old wall clock. "You'd better head out if you're going to make it home, change and then all the way to Berlin in time for your show."
Obediently grabbing her jacket, Kathryn gets dressed for the winter with relief. Pulling her hat and mittens on, she returns to the kitchen to say goodbye.
Gretchen hugs her again, holding her tight. "Have fun, grovel, try to bring Picard by the house if you can. I can come up to San Francisco if it's easier. Oh--" she smiles, realising. "Think I could see the ship?"
"The Enterprise?"
"She's a marvel of engineering Kathryn, I'd love to see her warp nacelles from the inside."
Kathryn ties her scarf around her neck, muffling her mouth. "I'll see what I can do." Jean-Luc's too much of a gentleman to be anything but kind with her mother's requests. She supposes they'll get along but she's not sure why they need to. Jean-Luc is Three's father but it's a different definition of the term than most would use. She's so edgy lately that she writes it off as that and smiles behind her scarf.
"Love you."
Gretchen hugs her tight, then kisses her forehead. "I love you, sweetheart. Your father would be so proud of you."
Kathryn escapes out into the cold before she can tear up in front of her mother. She doesn't know what her father would think, nor does she know what she wants him to say. She skips the first transport point and walks the kilometre down the snowy road to the next, just to clear her head.
onto part iii
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The water rolls in the pot, silver bubbles against the copper bottom of the pan. Kathryn stares at it, watching the steam rise. It's a violent action for so small a space. It's beautiful too, as if she could touch it without scalding her flesh.
She won't, she's already been scalded enough for one day. Nechayev had it right when she walked Kathryn home from the hearing. It's less than a court martial; more than a debriefing. She saved lives. Protocol is less important than the people those rules were written to protect. Kirk would understand, as would Captain Garrett.
Garrett was a good one to bring up, Kathryn may have winced at Kirk. Had anyone told her a year ago that Alynna 'Ice Queen' Nechayev would be her stalwart protector, Kathryn would have laughed at them. She may have contemplated tossing them in the brig and checking to see what universe they were from if they went on to say she'd be married and pregnant: two things she's always meant to do, yet failed to find the time.
She still barely has the time, yet she's trying.
Beverly's hand runs across the small of her back, then her chin rests on her shoulder.
"Kathryn, you've proved a watched pot boils. You'll be getting a T'Varit Award for sure."
"I'm sorry."
She meant to put in the pasta minutes ago.
"It's all right. Go, let Kate look you over while I rescue dinner."
Kathryn tosses a glance towards the living room, where Kate Pulaski sits patiently talking to the Maestro. He's more than happy to be admired and Kate seems to adore him.
"Have I mentioned I'm terrible with doctors who aren't you?"
"At length, and your EMH warned me at the wedding that you'd be exceptionally difficult." Beverly smiles and leans in closer. "I like a challenge."
Kathryn hovers near the stove, remaining within Beverly's arm instead of heading into the living room and facing her other challenge of the day. Antenatal appointments are nothing to fear. Everything's fine, and Beverly's told her that enough that Kathryn believes her wholeheartedly. Protocol dictates that a doctor can't treat her own wife, so Kate Pulaski, Beverly's colleague, and a friend, volunteered for the challenge.
Beverly drops pasta into the water, stirs it once and then sets down the spoon.
"Everything all right?"
Kathryn nods wearily. "It's been a long day."
"Don't let the Brass Inquisitors get to you."
Beverly strokes her cheek, then kisses her, lightening the moment.
Kathryn doesn't know how to tell her that she may be in real trouble. That accepting Romulan help is well and good when you're Captain Picard and you've just saved Earth, but slightly harder to explain when you let them cross into Federation territory with enough ships to destroy your relief fleet. Not that she'll be demoted, or get anything more than a bureaucratic slap on the wrist and a new assignment.
How do you ask the woman you love to give up the top job in her field to follow you to the ends of Federation space and look after a space station full of eccentric scientists and thousands of family members? Kathryn can't handle that tonight, so she steels herself for Kate Pulaski.
"She's going to be mean to me, isn't she?"
"Terribly so."
"Remind me again why I married you?"
"You feel the need to torture yourself and I'm amazing in bed. Go, be good."
Kathryn starts taking off her jacket as she heads into the living room. She should be grateful. Prestigious doctors don't usually take the time to monitor the uncomplicated pregnancies of stubborn admirals. She could have some all too eager junior doctor, or the EMH's brusque manner. He would take coffee from her hands and lecture her about the sleep she's not getting.
Pulaski might be kinder. Beverly likes her, so does Da Vinci, and both are good signs.
"Your cat really fancies himself the lord of the house, doesn't he?"
Smiling at the cat, Kathryn sits down and leaves her jacket on the chair behind her.
"And everything else he can see. He graciously allows us to live here because we feed him to his satisfaction."
"I've never had a cat, but I've had many friends with them, and can see the appeal. It's always nice to have someone who appreciates that you've come home."
Kate's smile is knowing, a bit too much like Kathryn's mother's, but she hasn't begun any lectures yet, so that's a start.
"Your medical history is quite a read through. The usual, of course: lacerations, brain trauma, contusions, broken bones. Then you went for the truly unique and were assimilated by the Borg, infected with a macrovirus, experimented on by unethical aliens, and my personal favourite: turned into an amphibian."
Her genuine smile at that, mixed with scientific wonder, wins Kathryn over, and she smiles back.
"I was tempted to list that as a previous pregnancy, but I don't remember it nor can I be sure I didn't lay eggs, so it probably doesn't count."
"Probably not. Good try."
Kathryn looks at Kate's empty hands, then down at her belly before she met her eyes again. "So, what do you need to do?"
"Starfleet regulations stipulate that you are examined every few weeks during your pregnancy with our visits increasing in regularity as you enter the last part of your pregnancy. You've missed the first few appointments-"
Frowning, Kathryn begins to protest that she had every intention of making them: she just became busy so easily that she lost track of time.
"It's all right, Admiral. No one blames you for being busy. Beverly asked me to put you on my patient roster because we're old friends, and she knew I wouldn't mind a few oddly scheduled appointments."
Kate reaches for her medical kit and opens it up on her lap, taking out her tricorder. "I'm also a stubborn old war horse of a doctor, who's tough enough to handle you." She smirks at this and removes the little probe from her tricorder.
"Your EMH has extended notes about your disinclination for medical advice, but I've worked with Mark Ones enough to have wanted to smack them in the photons a few times, so I think we'll get along fine. Now, do you mind if I run a tricorder scan?"
Kathryn nods, watching the little light start to blink in Kate's hand.
"I'm checking your blood for your rhesus factor, the baby's chromosomal profile, electrolytes, rate of nutrient absorption..."
Letting her continue the list, Kathryn watches the data flood into the tricorder and reminds herself not to strain her eyes trying to read it upside down. No indicators are red, and she knows enough about medical tricorders to know that's a very good sign.
"Your medical record lists Captain Picard as the father."
"Yes, he was our donor."
"You are aware that the replacement of his heart was in no way due to a congenital defect, so you have nothing to worry about."
Kathryn nods again, smiling faintly. "He was quite concerned that I know everything there was to know about his genetics before Beverly and I made a lifetime commitment to raising them. Jean-Luc assured us that his youthful rashness was a learned quality we might be able to avoid."
"I can see that. How very gentlemanly of him." The scan finishes and Kate reads it over, when she looks up, she offers Kathryn the tricorder. "Everything's normal. Heart rate, growth targets, brain development: and no signs of amphibious characteristics."
"That's a relief."
"Your baby might feel like a tadpole, but I can assure you, it's a phase."
Feel? Kathryn stared at her, suddenly nervous. "I haven't felt anything."
Kate's expression immediately softens. "Don't worry. Some babies take their time making their presence known. Each one's different. You might feel it-"
"We've been calling the baby Three." Kathryn doesn't like it. Snakes are it. Three is Three.
"Three?"
"The third part of our collective. We might be spending too much time with Seven of Nine."
Kate cocks her head, smiling in acceptance. "I've known couples to come up with nicknames before, but yours certainly is unique. You might notice Three's moving around weeks from now, or tomorrow. Whenever it happens, it's perfectly fine."
She waits, patiently, as if Kathryn will have something else to say.
"I hate waiting."
"Your kind always does. Comes with the red uniform. Now, unless you have any other questions, lets have dinner."
Kate stands, scratching Maestro's head before she puts away her tricorder and heads towards the kitchen.
Kathryn stares at her, then jumps to her feet. "That was it?"
"I needed a full tricorder scan I could sign off on for the record. Beverly and I agree you're in excellent health, and I'll note that officially. Unless you have any questions?"
"No. No questions, thank you Doctor."
"My pleasure, Admiral." Kate says it sincerely and Kathryn relaxes. It is easy to trust her, Beverly was right about that. "Come on, let's eat before Beverly puts us both on report."
"I can help you with those." Kate stands as Beverly does and grabs a few plates from the table.
"You don't have to."
"I can talk with my hands full."
Beverly smiles at that and nods. "We used the real plates, so they all need to go into the dish drawer."
Kate stacks her cutlery on her plate. "You don't wash them by hand?"
"Only when Kathryn's mother is around."
"Traditionalist?"
"Worse than my grandmother." Beverly opens the drawer and starts slipping dirty plates into the rack. One sonic cycle and they'll all be clean. She lines glasses along the side and looks up to Kate's patient smile.
"Think the inquiry's going as bad as she looks?"
Sighing, Beverly leans against the cabinet. "She won't talk about it."
"How many times have you brought up your reprimands over dinner?"
Beverly crosses her arms, trying to remember if she was reprimanded while she was married. "I didn't get my first formal reprimand until after Jack was gone."
"My second ex would stew for days."
"Kathryn's in that camp."
Kate drops in a handful of dirty cutlery, then brushes her hands clean. "Makes you wish she'd just come home and collapse into tears, doesn't it?"
"Would make things easier."
Kate nods, looking to the silver coffee pot on the counter. "Mind if I make a pot of coffee?"
"I'd love some, thanks." Beverly grabs coffee from the cupboard and sets it down while Kate fills the pot.
"Did you talk to Picard?"
"Jean-Luc's not on the best terms with Admiral Rossa since he allowed her grandson to stay with the Talarians, and I occasionally doubt Nsomeka's on good terms with anyone."
Kate watches the ground coffee settle in the water and steals a glance towards the living room. "Alynna thinks she'll be transferred. Too good to demote and too maverick to keep at headquarters. Logistics or heading a research department."
Beverly shakes her head. "Both of which she'll hate."
Kate pats her shoulder sympathetically. "I heard Doctor Rickon asked for a transfer."
"Off Deep Space 6? I saw the paperwork this afternoon." Beverly takes down coffee cups from the shelf above the sink.
"You do know who he's married to?"
Beverly has to think for a moment. "Something I have the hardest time pronouncing."
Kate grins. "Admiral Whfayllnzk."
"The commander of Deep Space 6." Beverly remembers, spilling a little coffee as she pours. "No, they wouldn't--"
"I think Alynna will push for it. Who would you rather have dealing with Romulans and scientists, Kathryn or Admiral ch'Ursek?"
"ch'Ursek thinks science is a waste of time."
"So he'd go over well out there."
Beverly sets down the coffee pot and tucks a piece of hair behind her ear before she turns back to Kate. "I didn't have much luck with my last deep space station."
Kate winces at the memory. "You lived."
"Thanks to Kathryn and some Romulans willing to violate a whole set of treaties."
"Triage."
Kate's quip brings a smirk to Beverly's lips.
"Quite possibly." She wraps her fingers around the heat of her coffee, letting the idea simmer. "Deep Space 6."
"Stuttgart-class, constantly overcrowded, ignored by Starfleet command, last station before the end of the universe."
"What do they call it?"
"Uluru station."
"Uluru station," Beverly repeats, trying it out. "I was just saying I wanted to see patients again."
"Were you wishing?"
"Maybe I was." Beverly takes a slow breath and stares into the dark surface of her coffee. "Well, if that's where Kathryn's going, it solves the problem of replacing Doctor Rickon."
"Because that's the difficult post to fill." Kate shakes her head and starts looking around the kitchen with more interest. "How do you like your apartment?"
"The view from the balcony is incredible."
"And you have a bathtub."
"A palatial one." Beverly starts to smile. "Is this your way of volunteering?"
"We've traded places before."
Beverly sips her coffee. "And we've both swore we'd never go back."
"You did."
"I needed a change."
"Maybe I do."
"Maybe you just want my apartment."
Da Vinci leaps onto the counter in front of them, presenting his fur for adoration to them both.
"He's coming with us."
"Too bad." Kate scruffs his head. "He'd love my dog."
"You have a dog?"
"An old mutt of unknown parentage. She spends most of her time sleeping in the middle of my sofa."
"It's nice to have someone to come home to, isn't it?" Beverly should shoo the cat off the counter, but it's a lost cause. He seems to enjoy it up there anyway.
"Annabelle's sweet, but she's not quite a wife and a baby."
"Three's still pretty little."
"I hear space babies sleep better."
Beverly laughs and rubs Da Vinci's ears. "I may have said that a few times."
"We can't prove it."
"But that's not the point, is it?"
Kate smiles, then sighs. "I don't envy you. Transfers led to one of my divorces."
"We'll make it work." It's still just rumour and Beverly can't plan her life around rumours, even if Kate's been a reliable source in the past.
They talk until the coffee's gone and Kate heads home with a parting hug.
Beverly sets the mugs in the dish drawer and sets it to cycle. They'd been talking about moving. Kathryn thinks Three needs a yard, and Beverly's always liked the quiet. A little village in South America has some appeal, but this is the other direction entirely. There are not yards and gardens on the fringes of Federation space. Caldos is nearby, and she still has a cottage there, even if her most recent memories of that building are unpleasant. Ronan's gone, and he can't come after her again. She has more pleasant memories of that cottage than frightening ones.
Caldos is close enough for trips to grass and trees. Three can play in the same forests Beverly did. She gives the kitchen a final glance, then shuts off the light. Space stations are better than starships for children, easier to evacuate, more other kids of the same age and Deep Space 6 is full of families.
She'll have more time for Kathryn and Three if she's only the chief medical officer. CMO's get to go home at the end of the day, even if they occasionally get dragged out of bed in the middle of the night. It might not be so bad.
Beverly checks her plants before she goes to bed. She hums as she moves between them, picking off dead leaves and making sure the soil is moist. She has an old song running through her mind, one of those where she only remembers a few bars, but they're comfortable notes.
Kathryn isn't reading, which is odd for her. She's been lost in a book for the last few days, poetry of some sort. She was still reading when Beverly fell asleep last night, but tonight Kathryn doesn't have the interest. She was quiet at dinner, but she seemed to enjoy the company. Beverly and Kate did their best to keep the conversation out of the medical sector, but Kathryn was distracted. They could have talked about anything.
Her PADD's on her lap, but Kathryn's only half-reading her communiques. She's scrolling too quickly to be paying much attention to the words. She's not looking up, so Beverly leaves her in her world and settles down in bed next to her without comment. Rain drizzles the window outside and she listens to that and the soft sounds of Kathryn's fingers on the PADD.
"You served on a space station, didn't you?"
Not exactly a subtle question, but Beverly's not ready to ease her into the discussion. Kathryn needs to bring it up properly and Beverly's stubborn enough to make her.
"Starbase 34, before Jack died." Beverly opens her eyes but doesn't roll over.
"The Stargazer was based there?"
"She was. So every time he came back, Wes and I used to meet him at the airlock." That's a bittersweet memory and she rolls over, resting her head on Kathryn's shoulder.
Kathryn's hand runs shyly down Beverly's arm. It's so hard to be angry with her when she's vulnerable.
"Maybe he'll write."
Beverly stares down at the slight rise of Kathryn's belly and Three, who will be an ordinary child, not Mozart. "He does, when he remembers that time's passing differently for me."
"Does time pass for him at all?"
Sitting up onto her elbows, Beverly looks up at Kathryn. "I don't know. Not in a way you or I understand, and I'm happy for him, I really am, but I miss him. I miss knowing he was just on Earth and I'd see him occasionally, but this is what he needs to be doing."
Kathryn blinks a few times, too quickly. "I'm sorry he's not here."
"Me too, but you're here. Three's here, Maestro's here. Here isn't so bad." Beverly means to soothe her but Kathryn's too sensitive. Here is about to be somewhere else and she's not ready to talk about it yet. Beverly's not sure she's ready to talk about it either. Head of Medical is several steps away from Chief Medical Officer of a space station in the middle of nowhere. Kathryn's being punished and Beverly's career is going on hold again.
She does that. She did it for Jack and Wesley, she can do it again. Starfleet Medical and all of its paperwork will still be there when Three's grown up and Four and Five are in the Academy. She rests her hand on Kathryn's belly and smiles. She'll be angry tomorrow, maybe for sometime after that but the dust will settle and she'll get caught up in her patients and love what she's doing. That was why she got into medicine.
"Three's getting so big."
"I thought I didn't look big."
Beverly kisses her cheek, wishing she could skip the next few days and move on to the part where neither of them is holding anything back. She doesn't trust herself yet, she'll say something, snap, hurt Kathryn's feelings or lose her temper. She has to wait.
"You look beautiful."
Kathryn sets her PADD aside, slips down in the bed and rests her hand on top of Beverly's. "Did you believe Jack when he said that?"
"He never said it."
Arranging her pillow, Kathryn stares at her in disbelief.
"He used to joke that a woman as intelligent as I was should understand that I was beautiful as a matter of course, and thus never need to be reminded of what she already knew."
"Did you hit him?"
"I thought about it, but no, I let him think he had me and got back at him in some terribly glib fashion later."
Running her thumb slowly back and forth over Kathryn's belly, Beverly snuggles in closer to her and kisses her cheek. "When I say it, however, I'm repeating myself, because I'm a doctor, and that's what we do."
"Right. You're not going to ask that I believe you as a matter of scientific fact."
"Oh no, I've learned that no one listens to me until I've told them at least a dozen times."
Kathryn shuts her eyes. "That's so true, isn't it?"
"You have no idea." Beverly kisses her forehead, lingering over Kathryn's right eyebrow. "You look beautiful. Three rounds you out and your breasts are gorgeous."
"They hurt."
"Beauty is pain."
Opening one eye, Kathryn glares at her. "Thanks."
"Sleep. I'll see if I can do something about your breasts in the morning."
"You're such a tease."
"Yes, yes I am."
"I don't like it."
"Of course you don't." Beverly holds her close, reminding herself that all storms pass, even this one.
"How many of those hyposprays can you take in a day?" Gretchen's gaze is stern and Kathryn wilts as she lowers the hypo from her neck.
"As many as I have to."
"You could give up coffee."
Kathryn doesn't dignify that with a response. "Caffeine inhibitors were invented so I don't have to do give up coffee."
Gretchen drops her eyes back to the term papers she's grading her way through. "Will you be joining us for New Year's or do you have other plans?"
Though Kathryn appreciates that her mother is trying to change the subject she can't lie. "We won't be able to make it."
"Oh? Big Starfleet party you have to show yourselves at?"
Kathryn shakes her head, wishing she could say something else, anything else. "We'll be in the Beta Octantis sector, on Deep Space 6."
"Deep Space 6?" Her mother runs that through her head. "Is that as far away as I think it is?"
"Further. It's out past the Neutral Zone, on the fringes of Federation space."
Gretchen rolls her eyes towards the ceiling, setting down her stylus and PADD. "Do I even want to know what you'll be doing out there?"
"I've been transferred."
"Temporarily?"
"I've been asked to take command."
"Of a space station so far away that you're past the Neutral Zone? Why not just head back to the Delta Quadrant and drag your wife with you."
Dropping her head into her hands, Kathryn tries to ignore the twisting knot in her stomach. "I'm not dragging Beverly."
"She's not going?"
"She'll be my Chief Medical Officer."
"Which sounds far less important than Head of Starfleet Medical." Gretchen folds her hands in her lap. "She loves you."
"She married me."
"She's a good woman, Goldenbird, don't mess this up."
For a moment, Kathryn can picture her father standing behind her mother. She remembers their looks that said Justin would never like dogs and her mother's glances when she thought Mark wouldn't be able to keep up with Kathryn's lifestyle.
"Were you given a choice?" Gretchen leans back in her chair. "This transfer, did you have other options?"
Kathryn hasn't put too much thought into her other options. She hates logistics and she'd be miserable working in that department. Admiral Nsomeka would make sure she had one of the most hated assignments, supervising civilian traffic along the Cardassian border, or something that kept her travelling all the time so she never saw Beverly or Three.
"Kathryn, why aren't you staying here so she can keep being head of Medical?"
"My options were limited."
"But you had options, didn't you? You made a decision."
Kathryn clutches her fingers together in a knot, resting her chin on them. "Yes."
"You're just like your father. You know, he'd walk through that door and tell me about the next dangerous mission he'd signed on for. We'd argue. I'd yell, he'd yell back, eventually I'd be in tears and he'd storm out into the fields. You get that from him."
"I'm not storming anywhere." Turning her eyes to the floor, Kathryn presses her thumbs into her forehead, wishing she could banish her headache. "I'll apologise."
"I'd start with that."
"Mom--"
"You asked her to quit her job, move to the other side of the quadrant and do a job she's far overqualified for."
"I'm not overqualified to run the station?"
"Are you?"
"Of course I am."
Gretchen raises an eyebrow, feigning surprise. "Oh?"
"It's a station full of families and squabbling scientists. It's the last stop before the middle of nowhere. A commander could run it."
"But they chose you."
Too frustrated to sit, Kathryn left her chair and paces. Her back aches at the base of her spine and she doesn't know how to make it stop. "They're punishing me for defying their damn orders and saving thousands of people."
Her mother reaches over and picks up her knitting, straightening the yarn and starting a new row. "Are they punishing Beverly too?"
"Of course not."
"Didn't she say the station should be destroyed?"
"She was being cautious."
"Overly cautious?"
"No, no, Beverly made the right call. We couldn't have let the virus reach another station, or a planet." She can't even imagine what that would have done on a planet.
"So Beverly deserves to keep her position and you don't."
"I went against Starfleet's authority."
"Because you knew better?" Gretchen's knitting needles click in a steady rhythm.
"I was there."
"And you knew better?" Gretchen stresses the end. "You always know better."
"I did what had to be done. Starfleet command wasn't there to see it."
"So you can't follow orders?"
"I don't follow orders when those orders lead to senseless deaths."
Gretchen shakes her head and smoothes her knitting, checking for dropped stitches. "You don't follow orders?"
"I don't when--"
"Kathryn, I'd ship you off to the fringes too. You don't follow orders."
"I do when they make sense."
"How fast would you have put Chakotay in the brig if he behaved that way on your ship?"
"That's different."
"Because he has to follow your orders and you don't have to follow Starfleet's?"
Kathryn leans against the wall, sighing. She's caught and it's an uncomfortable trap. "My orders make sense."
"Starfleet has a hierarchy, whether or not you believe in the skills of those above you is irrelevant because they're above you. You have to listen to them, just like I have to listen to department heads who think we don't need to teach archaic programming languages because anyone can look them up."
Watching the holosnap of her father, Kathryn smiles weakly. "You sneak archaic computer languages into your finals every year."
"You can follow your own orders out there." Gretchen waves her over to her desk, holding up whatever it is that she's been working on. It's pale purple and Kathryn can't help worrying it's for Three. "Do you think Three's going to be early or late? I need to request my time off now."
"You'll have to come all the way out to Deep Space 6. It's eighteen days on a starship, over a month on a civilian transport."
Gretchen aligns her knitting, and as Kathryn worried, she's working on some kind of adorable little jacket. She can't help worrying that the baby insanity is spreading. Tom and B'Elanna already want to send them some of Miral's old things.
"Someone better pull some strings and see that I can hitch a ride on a starship."
"It doesn't work like that." Kathryn shuts her eyes while her mother holds up the jacket to her belly. It's a useless gesture; there's no way Gretchen could extrapolate the size of her grandchild based on the rise of Kathryn's stomach. "I don't have a starship."
"Three's father does. Chakotay does and that charming man who married you, he has a starship."
"Will?"
Gretchen leaves her knitting on her desk and stands to hug her daughter. "I liked him. He's very funny."
Burying her face in her mother's neck, Kathryn hates her eyes for stinging. She doesn't have a reason to cry but her eyes don't want to follow her orders. "He's one of Beverly's best friends."
"You need good friends."
"I know."
Releasing her, Gretchen grabs her arms. "Tell her. Apologise. Grovel."
"Yes mom."
"It'll be all right."
"I know."
Gretchen smiles, trying to cheer her. "Now, Admiral daughter, I want to meet Three's father. Do you think that can be arranged?"
Looking at her blankly, Kathryn rests a hand on her hip. "You met Picard at our reception."
"I spoke to him for a few minutes about how lovely the champagne was and how happy you and Beverly were. I'd hardly say I met him."
Backing up, Kathryn tries to remember when the Enterprise will next be in the sector. The flagship so rarely returns to Earth that she worries this will be difficult to schedule. "There's plenty of information about him in Starfleet's public records. He's had a long career."
"What he did with a starship isn't him. I want to know what his laugh sounds like and if he'll come to our Federation Day picnics."
"I'm sure he'll come if he's in the sector."
"Does he have family?"
Retreating to the kitchen for a glass of water, Kathryn takes tiny sips to avoid triggering her over-sensitive gag reflex. "A sister in France, his brother's widow."
"Starfleet?"
Kathryn sets down her glass and the hand on her hip creeps forward to rest on her belly. "Civilian. There was a fire, their house was old, far from the fire station-- Picard's brother and nephew died. His sister-in-law is his only family aside from us and the former crew of the Enterprise."
"Beverly's old senior staff friends you mean: The Trois, Geordi and that lovely Klingon fellow."
"Worf."
"Such a polite man."
"He was an Ambassador for years." Kathryn rubs her hand slowly over her stomach, wishing the twisting sensation would calm. It's more foreign than nausea but it's nearly as pervasive.
"He was such a help with the set up."
"She's very close to all of them."
"Like your crew." Gretchen takes potatoes from the cupboard and starts making her lunch. She wanted Kathryn to stay, but relinquished when Kathryn mentioned the opera.
"It's different than Voyager."
Beverly wasn't the captain, the senior staff were closer to the same age, her ship wasn't stranded and no actions of Beverly's took everyone else away from their families. Will, Deanna, Geordi, Worf and Picard are more like siblings than Tom, B'Elanna, Seven and Harry can ever be to Kathryn. They're too young and she was their captain for too long. She should ask Picard how he does it, because he laughs more with his crew than she does.
Gretchen glances at the old wall clock. "You'd better head out if you're going to make it home, change and then all the way to Berlin in time for your show."
Obediently grabbing her jacket, Kathryn gets dressed for the winter with relief. Pulling her hat and mittens on, she returns to the kitchen to say goodbye.
Gretchen hugs her again, holding her tight. "Have fun, grovel, try to bring Picard by the house if you can. I can come up to San Francisco if it's easier. Oh--" she smiles, realising. "Think I could see the ship?"
"The Enterprise?"
"She's a marvel of engineering Kathryn, I'd love to see her warp nacelles from the inside."
Kathryn ties her scarf around her neck, muffling her mouth. "I'll see what I can do." Jean-Luc's too much of a gentleman to be anything but kind with her mother's requests. She supposes they'll get along but she's not sure why they need to. Jean-Luc is Three's father but it's a different definition of the term than most would use. She's so edgy lately that she writes it off as that and smiles behind her scarf.
"Love you."
Gretchen hugs her tight, then kisses her forehead. "I love you, sweetheart. Your father would be so proud of you."
Kathryn escapes out into the cold before she can tear up in front of her mother. She doesn't know what her father would think, nor does she know what she wants him to say. She skips the first transport point and walks the kilometre down the snowy road to the next, just to clear her head.
onto part iii
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