"Will you be in tomorrow, Doctor?" Jybara asks, standing in the door to Beverly's office.

Beverly sets the last PADD on her desk and nods. "Unless something changes."

"May the Prophets bring you an eventful night."

"I hope they're listening," Beverly says, reaching for the duty roster to approve before she leaves. "You left the inventory for tomorrow morning."

"Sometimes you have to tempt fate to get it to do what you want."

Beverly signs the PADD and hands it back. "Kathryn will be yours forever if your trick works."

"I'd accept a thank you and a nice holo of the baby," Jybara says, walking Beverly out into the main infirmary. "I'm keeping a spot on my desk free."

When Wesley was born, her desk was covered in holos. Beverly glances back at her dark office and decides her desk here has plenty of space. She bids the rest of the infirmary good bye and heads for her quarters.

Recognising the soundtrack of Dixon Hill as she walks in, Beverly smiles. "I didn't think you'd talk her into it."

"It's been very distracting." Kathryn's voice hesitates, her throat tight and strained.

Rushing from the door to the floor in front of the sofa, Beverly takes in the strength of Kathryn's grip on Jean-Luc's hand, the redness of her eyes and the lines in her forehead.

"I didn't know at first," Kathryn says, her voice soft as a child's. "I thought it would make more sense." Tears well in her eyes and Beverly kisses her fingers.

"It doesn't have to make sense."

"She's been having regular contractions for the last two hours." Jean-Luc's been watching the chronometer and Beverly nods to him.

"What are they like now?"

"Short, but tight, like I've strained the muscles." Kathryn releases Jean-Luc's hand and rests her damp fingers on Beverly's hair. "I don't know if today is the right birthday."

"It's a good day today."

"It's too close to my birthday. Three should have come last week."

"I don't think she was ready last week."

"She?"

"Could be he."

Kathryn twists her mouth into one of her little half-smiles. "I guess we're finally going to know, aren't we?"

"You've wanted to know for months."

Taking a breath, Kathryn nods but frowns. "I don't know if I want to know enough."

Rocking up to her knees, Beverly meets her eyes. "This is a good thing. Labour is a the end of being pregnant. You'll be able to sleep on your stomach again and no one's going to kick you in staff meetings."

"Except you."

"It was the once, and you deserved it."

Swallowing her protest, Kathryn breathes through a contraction.

Beverly strokes the lines in her forehead. "Don't tense."

"I'm not tense."

"Tell that to your face."

"My face is not tense." Kathryn digs her fingers into Beverly's shoulders then releases them. "I don't mean to be."

"Relax. It's all right. You're perfectly all right. There's no right way to go into labour."

Kathryn looks to Jean-Luc, who's been at her side for the last few hours. "We should have gotten you."

"I'm here now."

"What do we do?" Kathryn asks, her focus on the task as if it's a mission.

"We wait." Beverly settles back with her hips on her heels. "Are you hungry?"

Bewildered, Kathryn contemplates the thought. "No, no, I don't think so."

"All right." Beverly rises to her feet, looking over their quarters. It's too early to fill the tub, but she and Jean-Luc will have to eat, even if Kathryn's not hungry. "Jean-Luc, would you make dinner? You and I should eat."

"Beverly-"

Sitting down next to her on the sofa, Beverly rests a hand on Kathryn's belly. "There's nothing we need to do right now unless you need something. You can drink water, juice or tea. If you're hungry, you eat. If you want to walk around a little, that might speed things up."

"So I should walk around?"

"If you feel restless, or if your contractions are too much sitting down." Waiting for her wife to look at her, Beverly feels carefully for the baby's head. "May I press a little harder?"

"In a minute, my muscles will do it for you," Kathryn takes Beverly's hand and moves it down. "I think his foot is here. He's been kicking at my ribs all day."

"Feet up is a good sign."

Kathryn nods, taking another deep breath and starting to tense.

"Don't hold your breath," Beverly says, caressing her cheek. "Breathe normally and slowly."

"I'm not holding my breath."

"You were," Jean-Luc reminds her from near the replicator.

"It hurts."

"Because you were holding your breath," Beverly says, keeping her tone light. "You wanted something to do, didn't you? Don't hold your breath."

"I hate you."

Beverly lifts her hand and kisses it. "It's far too early for that."

"I'm going to need a head start."

Dixon Hill continues to make the city by the bay that much less a haven of villainy in the background. No one's following it but no one shuts it off. Beverly eats her sandwich slowly, proving to Kathryn that there is no hurry. Kathryn shifts from one position to another and finally moves to the rocking chair instead of the sofa.

"Why does it have to be everywhere?" Kathryn asks, handing back her glass. "If it would pick my back or my belly and just hurt there, I could manage it."

"You're doing fine," Jean-Luc says, saving Beverly the trouble.

Beverly eases Kathryn's shoulders forward, searching for pressure points. She's braided Kathryn's hair back, out of the way, but there's already sweat on her neck.

"Do you want to change?"

Lifting her head, Kathryn looks at Beverly's hand instead of all the way up at her. "Will you help?"

"I'll help."

"What do I wear?"

"Something comfortable," Beverly says, waving Jean-Luc over from his book. He's been on the same page for nearly half an hour, but he projects calm just by holding it. "When you're ready, stand up, we'll help you."

Kathryn breathes through the next contraction. Now they're longer and she focuses better, almost as if she's taking them seriously. When it's done, she stands into Jean-Luc's hands.

"What's your book about?"

"It's a mystery novel Worf found. It's Cardassian, actually, so all the crimes are known and the mystery is when the characters will be punished by the state."

Letting Jean-Luc be the human connection, Beverly grabs her tricorder from the table and scans Kathryn's progression. Four centimetres is better than an hour ago and the baby's head is low and steady.

Kathryn stops them just outside the bedroom, her fingers tightening on Jean-Luc's arms. Beverly lets the tricorder run, recording the intensity of the contraction, both of their blood oxygen levels and the hormones running through Kathryn's veins.

When everything reads normal, Beverly opens the drawers and pulls out four different options as Kathryn stands with Jean-Luc by the bed.

"This one?" she says, offering a nightgown that's thin enough to breathe. It's not overly warm in their quarters but she remembers how hot she felt the night Wesley was born.

Kathryn feels it and shakes her head. "The pink one."

"Okay." Beverly reaches for Kathryn's blue tunic, ready to pull it up. Jean-Luc takes a step back but Kathryn shakes her head.

"You're going to see it all, might as well not worry about it." She turns her and finds his face. "It's all right."

Setting aside his concern for her privacy, Jean-Luc nods and offers his hands to steady her while Beverly strips off Kathryn's leggings.

"How did you get a Cardassian book?" The question catches in her throat but it's understandable.

"Worf received it from a friend in the Klingon Defence Force. It's rare to have a Cardassian book printed on paper, and even rarer to find one that survived the war."

Kathryn's panties are damp with fluid and there's enough on her inner thighs to make it possible that her waters are slowly leaking instead of breaking with force. Amniotic fluid takes some of the bite out of contractions and Beverly's glad Kathryn's been lucky so far. She pats Kathryn's knee and stands up.

"Your membranes are still intact."

Kathryn nods, switching her gaze from Jean-Luc to Beverly. "My legs are wet."

"That's okay."

"Okay," Kathryn repeats, smiling. "Everything's okay."

"You're good at this."

She steps forward, resting her head on Jean-Luc's chest as her breathing deepens through the contraction. He holds still and firm. Beverly squeezes his shoulder and collects Kathryn's clothing for the laundry.

"Do you want to stay walking or go back to the chair?"

"Walking means it'll go faster?"

"Walking sometimes helps, but if you're tired you don't have to."

Reaching across Jean-Luc's hand, Kathryn beckons Beverly over. "I'm not tired."

"Then we'll walk."

Beverly remembers snatches of walking with Jack when Wesley was born. She doesn't think she was as focused as Kathryn. Her mind wandered more. It might be different, being on the outside, but she wants to say she's right. Beverly was so young when Wesley was born, she'd barely assisted with more than a handful of deliveries and her own was so different than she imagined in small ways. She wasn't hungry, she didn't blame Jack and her transition was more frustrating than anything else. Nothing was right then, not Jack, not her midwife or the apartment, nothing. Once she was pushing, everything was right again and Wesley explained everything with his arrival. Holding him was the answer.

There's a different intimacy to this than she felt with Jack. Giving birth sank her further into her psyche than she's ever been, as if everything but the very centre of her wasn't important.

Kathryn pushes against her, leaning forward with her head on Beverly's shoulder. Jean-Luc steadies her hips, his hands ready. She meets Jean-Luc's eyes occasionally and they have the slow kind of conversation that takes an hour to make the simplest point around short demands to stay where they are or for water.

Kathryn's words start to leave her as she passes seven centimetres, as if speech has been dilated away. Beverly has to be closer to her eyes for Kathryn to acknowledge her, but she responds to their touch. Hands on her belly frustrate her but fists are her back take some of the ragged edge off her breathing. When her groans are more pained, Beverly sends Jean-Luc to fill the tub.

Getting Kathryn into it will be easier before she hits transition and though she's declined the last few times Beverly offered, this time she nods. Steps into the pool guide her up and steps inside guide her down. Kathryn's breathing is quick and shallow before the water but when she climbs in it slows. A few minutes later she opens her eyes wider than they've been for some time.

"Beverly?"

Leaning over the edge, Beverly holds out her hands. The water bouys up her arms, making them weightless as Kathryn's takes them. "You're doing great."

"What time is it?"

Beverly has no idea and Jean-Luc's the one to check.

"Just after twenty-two-hundred."

Looking to Beverly, Kathryn smiles before she can say it. "Everything's fine."

Beverly circles the tub and settles down by the side, so her head's just next to Kathryn's. The water sloshes as Kathryn moves, bending her legs with her knees below her hips.

"Dim the lights," she says to Jean-Luc when he brings her a chair. She's sore in strange places, and leaning over for the next few hours might leave knots in her back. She'll have to remember to stretch occasionally.

The lights sink around them, leaving the glow of the stars outside. Kathryn rests her forehead against Beverly's arm, moaning through the contraction. She shifts, moving her feet to a better position. Beverly follows her around the edge, keeping her face close so Kathryn can still see her. Reminding herself of all the advice she's dispensed to partners, Beverly assists in Kathryn ignoring her and concentrates on being present when required.

Jean-Luc switches places with her when her arms are sore, which also lets her take the time to pee and drink some coffee. The bottle of wine he promised Kathryn earlier this week sits on the table, corkscrew beside it. Beverly runs a tricorder scan through the wall of the tub and depends on the backlight of the tricorder to read it.

Eight point three centimetres and Kathryn's contractions follow each other in swift procession. Her moaning deepens, sinking further into her chest and starting to sound primal and urgent. Jean-Luc sits by the birthing pool, hands extended over the side while Beverly readies what they need for the baby. She stacks towels and blankets on the table and takes out the clamps and laser scalpel. Her tricorder's up to eight-point-nine when she's done and Kathryn tugs her hand down into the water.

Her fingers are tight and wet, holding on to Beverly's arm at the wrist. When Beverly strokes Kathryn's hand with her left, Kathryn turns her head and rediscovers her at the edge of the pool. The rhythm of Kathryn's breath falters and Beverly leads her, controlling her own. Jean-Luc stands behind her, a vigilant fetcher of glasses of water and cups of tea. He picks up his book only to set it down. When Kathryn passes nine centimetres, Jean-Luc stopped worrying about keeping his distance and sits near the pool next to Beverly, sharing the intimacy of the water.

It's too dark to see much in detail. Kathryn's nightgown floats amorphous and pink in the water; her hair sticks to itself in the braid and floats just off of her neck. She leans back, then forwards, curling around the ball of her belly. It's smaller now; most of the amniotic fluid is gone. When her belly contracts, more muscles find purchase and the optimism of her second wind waits for second stage.

"When she's ready to push, we'll know," she answers Jean-Luc. His chest is wet, and his thin undershirt clings to his skin. His eyes only hold wonder and Beverly envies his patience. She wants to hold Three, to tell her how much she's loved and wanted.

The tricorder reports ten point one centimetres and beeps, content that a goal has been accomplished. Kathryn still circles the tub, stopping for a contraction that seems less violent than the last. She lifts her eyes from the water like a mermaid rising from the deep.

"Beverly."

"I'm here."

"Beverly, I- I have to-"

"Wait for the contraction, push with it."

Clinging to the side with her shoulders against it, Kathryn rises against the wall. Her legs are open and the shape of the baby is all the way down in her hips. She moans as the contraction starts, turning the sound into a hiss as she starts to push. She slides down a little against the wall and Beverly looks at her position for an instant before she decides to climb in with her. She needs to be with her.

Taking off her socks startles Jean-Luc, who then understands.

"If I get in with her I can help keep her in the right position." Beverly drops her trousers to the floor by the pool and climbs in. The warm water cocoons her, holding her up. Kathryn stares at her, then pushes off the side, grabbing her tight in the centre of the pool. The shift of weight splashes inside the pool, even teases the edges, but Beverly isn't worried. She slips between Kathryn and the wall, holding on to it while Kathryn sits on her lap, letting herself be held against Beverly's body.

Kathryn starts to tense as the contraction starts and Beverly murmurs to her to relax, to breathe into it instead of against it. From behind her, Beverly can't see but she feels the tension in Kathryn's back soften against her.

"Beverly?" Jean-Luc draws her attention up from the little world of water and Kathryn's body against hers.

"A little blood is normal," she says, breathing slow and loud against Kathryn's ear.

His eyes are too wide for a little blood but his face lights with a grin she's only ever seen a handful of times before.

"I see the head."

"Kathryn, you can reach down and feel for the head."

Her gasp of surprise carries; Beverly releases the wall and holds Kathryn just beneath the arms.

"Almost there. A few more pushes like that and we'll have the baby."

This time Kathryn groans all the way through, bearing down into her hips. She pushes again, panting in the space between. Straightening up against Beverly's chest, Kathryn leans in and lifts her hands back towards the edge, pushing until she breaks, gasping for new breath.

"Jean-Luc?"

"I see- shoulders, I see the shoulders."

"Both shoulders?"

Beverly can't see from where she is and Jean-Luc has to lean close to the water.

"Both shoulders."

"Kathryn, one more push and we'll have the baby. One more, you can do it. Take your time. When you're ready." For a last moment, there's only the three of them in the room. Kathryn's deep groan of effort ends in a sob and she shudders against Beverly's chest.

Jean-Luc's voice breaks the quiet, thick and deep in his throat. "I see feet."

Reaching down, Kathryn grabs the baby, lifting her - or him- up to the surface. A moment, and eternity later, the baby takes a breath. It's a tiny gasp but it's his - her- Beverly corrects herself, first breath on her own.

Kathryn catches her breath with the baby clutched tight to her chest. Jean-Luc has tears in his eyes as he leans over the side. Beverly wraps her arms around them both, Kathryn and the baby, and beams across at him.

"Three's a girl."

Kathryn pulls the baby from her chest and looks her over, making sure. "Three's a girl." She stares down, forgetting Beverly, Jean-Luc and the rest of the universe out past the baby.

Kissing the back of her neck, Beverly watches her wife for a few stolen moments. Her eyes sting and she could levitate out of the water if she needed to. Instead, she kisses Kathryn's cheek and slips past her and out of the water. Standing dripping on the floor, she reaches for the tricorder. Three's already starting to pink up against Kathryn's chest. Most of the blood and mucus has been washed into the water yet patches of vernix cling to her skin.

Her hands are still wet when she grabs the patient tricorder. The half-hearted mewling of the baby is softer than the hum of the tricorder but Kathryn doesn't hear the latter.

Jean-Luc turns to her, wonder etched on his face. "They're both all right."

"Of course they are," she says, reaching for his shoulder. "Don't tell me you had doubts, Jean-Luc?"

He grabs her arm, just above the elbow and holds her tight.

"I-" He clears his throat, eyes gleaming in the weak light. "Doubt is the wrong word."

"They're both fine. Kathryn's blood pressure is right where it should be. Three's vital signs are all exactly where they should be. Perfect."

Nodding, Jean-Luc rests his head against her side, almost embracing her from where he sits. Sodden and damp, his grey undershirt clings to his chest. Shifting towards him, she hugs him close. For a moment the scent of him overwhelms the faint coppery smell of birth in the air.

"She's so small."

"Wait to you hold her," she teases.

She sets the tricorder down, satisfied with both Kathryn and the baby. The tricorder wants to give three an Apgar of eight, but Beverly will put nine in the record. Tricorders don't understand the perfect blue of newborn eyes. Three's fist flops against Kathryn's cheek on an uncontrolled arm.

Crouching down in front of the tub, Beverly strokes Three's foot. Vernix, soft and sticky, comes off on her fingers and Kathryn frowns at it.

"I keep worrying she's dirty, but she can't be, can she?"

"She's not dirty," Beverly reminds her, smiling. "Are you cold?"

The question washes over her, almost as if Beverly had asked in Romulan. Letting it go, Beverly touches Three's lips. Her sucking reflex pulls at her finger and Beverly meets Kathryn's eyes.

"See if she'll nurse."

Kathryn glances helplessly down at her breasts and laughs. "How do I?"

Guiding Kathryn's hands, Beverly cups the back of the baby's head. Her hair is sparse and sticky from birth, but even in the weak light it's red. Kathryn's hair has hints of red and once, a long time ago, Jean-Luc was teased in school for being ginger.

"She has red hair."

"Red?" Kathryn asks, peering over the head at her breast. Her curiosity distracts her and the sudden latching of Three to her breast draws a gasp. "How red?"

"Redder than I thought."

Jean-Luc follows Beverly's attention, any thoughts of Kathryn's modesty forgotten, and she wants to hug him again. He's in the moment with them, wrapped in the wonder of downy red hair plastered wet to bright skin.

Kathryn holds her close, smiling down at the baby before she drags her eyes up for them. "She tugs."

"She's hungry."

"How can she be hungry?"

Beverly runs her fingers over Three's head, the shape moulded by the birth canal. "It's hard work to be born, even on her side of things."

"We should celebrate," Jean-Luc says, as if the thought's just dropped out of warp. He wipes his hands uselessly on his shirt and heads for the bottle of wine he promised Kathryn. The pop of the cork carries through the quiet and Kathryn beams at her wife.

Chuckling, Beverly nods. "You can drink wine."

"Well, little bird," Kathryn mutters to the baby, "your birthday just keeps getting better."

"When you're ready, you two should get out of the water and I need to check the placenta."

Kathryn follows what she can see of the cord with her eyes. "We're attached."

"You'll always been attached," Beverly says, cupping Kathryn's cheek. "There's no hurry."

Jean-Luc sets glasses of wine on the table and returns to Beverly, his gaze back on the baby.

Kathryn fixes Beverly in her gaze, suddenly serious. "If you cut the cord, you two can hold her. I want you to hold her."

"Let her finish," Beverly says, standing so she has enough space to lean down and kiss her. "We're right here."

"What time is it? Were we keeping track?"

Beverly tilts her head towards the tricorder and Jean-Luc retrieves it. "The tricorder was."

"What's the stardate? Does Three have a good birthday?"

Jean-Luc hides a yawn with the back of his hand. "Five seven four three nine point three-" he pauses, reading the tricorder again. "Four, by just over two hours."

"It's oh-two-hundred?"

"Almost three," Beverly says, catching the chronometer on the wall panel.

"I can't tell if I want to sleep for days or play velocity. I'll finally have my balance back."

Three releases Kathryn's breast and wriggles back. Beverly reaches into the water, guiding Kathryn's hands and the baby so she can cut the umbilical cord with the laser scalpel. A single flash of light and Kathryn and Three are free.

"Can you grab one of the blankets for her, Jean-Luc?" He nudges her shoulder and she lifts their daughter from the water.

Kathryn holds the loose end of the cord, studying the still vein running through. "I miss her already."

Unaccustomed to being dry, or the feel of fabric, Three fusses, threatening to cry.

Beverly kisses her forehead, hushing her before she looks to Jean-Luc, whose eyes are wide with surprise. "I need you to hold her while I help Kathryn. Hold her, talk to her, she'll like that."

She hands the squirming baby over and watches Jean-Luc stare down at the infinite potential of their daughter. Wesley was barely much older when he held him but the fear has softened. Three stops testing her voice and uses her eyes instead, fixing on his face and staring.

Kathryn grabs Beverly's hand, squeezing it tight. "We did it."

Brushing Kathryn's wet hair back from her forehead, Beverly smirks. "You did it."

"With you. You were here, both of you," she leaves her mouth open, as if there's something else she means to say. "I love you," she finishes, finding the words as if they're a fresh discovery. "I love you, all of you."

Leaning down, Beverly kisses her, saving Kathryn from her confusion. "Let's get out of the water."

Kathryn delivers the placenta into a bowl, then splits her fascination between the biology of birth and Jean-Luc and the baby, enraptured in each other. Beverly checks the placenta, running her hands over the once-vital tissues that are no longer needed.

Leaning against her shoulder, Kathryn watches Beverly's hands, taking slow sips of her glass of wine. "What does it feel like?"

"Warm, tough, smooth, this side was attached to you-" Beverly lifts it to show the rough maternal side, then turns it in her hands, "this side was Three's and it's all here so I'm happy."

Kathryn sets down her wine and reaches for it, stroking it as if thanking a horse for a good ride. Beverly runs the sonic cleanser over their hands and sets the placenta aside.

"I like you being happy." Kathryn toys with Beverly's hair, which is damp and falling free.

"I'm incredibly happy."

Kathryn kisses her, then pats her cheek. "When do we start talking about Four?"

Jean-Luc swallows a chuckle. "What's the rush?"

Helping Kathryn into her pyjamas, Beverly smirks. "She's curious."

"Of course I am!" Kathryn finds her feet with a wince, but she's steady and grabs her wine. "I couldn't see anything."

Beverly follows her into the bedroom, waving Jean-Luc in after them. Together, they get Kathryn settled on the bed and Three, now asleep, doesn't even shift as she moves through their hands.

Kathryn pats the bed next to herself. "Don't you just want to watch her to see if she'll move?"

"I think her hair's red."

Sipping more of her wine than she intended, Beverly lets the swallow warm her and grins. "It is red."

"Was your hair red?" Kathryn demands, reaching for the neat white hair that circles the back of his head.

"It was, once."

"Pheobe's is so dark," Kathryn says, patting the back of his neck. "I thought Three would look like her. If she's a red head, she'll look like Beverly."

Beverly winks at him instead of mentioning genetics. "Three will have beautiful hair."

"What are you calling her?" Jean-Luc asks, lifting his attention from one of Three's tiny, perfect ears. "Have you decided?"

"Yes," Beverly says.

"Not really," Kathryn says over her. "We're not sure."

"I'm sure."

"But-" Kathryn sighs. "Beverly wants Elsa Yvette."

"Yvette for your mother," Beverly adds over her wine.

"And Elsa's from my family," Kathryn says, resting her hand on Three's belly. "Beverly's not in it."

"You'd rather Three had a name from Beverly's family?"

"I think she should be in Three's name somehow. Three already has my name."

Beverly shrugs. "So do I."

"Can't you choose something you like? Felisa or Melisa, Isabel-"

"Three is not a Felisa, nor do I think she's an Isabel. Look at her."

"She could be an Isabel."

"I like Elsa. It's strong and Yvette was important to Jean-Luc."

"I'm not against Yvette!" Kathryn argues, crossing her arms over her chest. "I want you to pick Three's first name."

"I chose Elsa."

"You chose it because it's from my family."

"I chose it because I like it. Elsa Janeway has a ring to it."

"I don't want a ring."

"You don't?"

"I want you to choose!"

Beverly takes Kathryn's hand and kisses the back of it, trying to calm her. "I choose Elsa, and, Kathryn, dear, that's her name."

Kathryn turns to Jean-Luc who raises both hands in surrender.

"I thought calling her Three for the next few years might be nice."

Kathryn narrows her eyes. "I hate you both."

Beverly swirls her wine, then lifts the glass towards Kathryn. "I'm putting Elsa on her birth certificate."

"I'll refuse to approve it for transmission."

"You don't have to approve it, it's a medical report."

"It's my station, and I have to approve."

"Of everything."

"Everything," Kathryn repeats. "Especially my daughter's name!"

"You don't approve?"

"I don't!"

"So you don't like Elsa?"

"I love Elsa," Kathryn replies, dropping her head to Beverly's shoulder. "She's beautiful and it's a pretty name and my mother will be so happy and my grandmother would have loved the idea and I-"

"Say you approve."

"Beverly-"

"I want you to be part of her name." Her voice halts, rough in her throat.

"I am part of her name," Beverly assures her. "I'm her mother. I'm part of every bit of her life, especially her name."

Leaning close to her, Kathryn nods. Tears glisten in her eyelashes and Jean-Luc pats her shoulder.

"It's a lovely name."

"It is," Kathryn says, daubing her eyes. "It is." She takes a breath, then kisses Beverly's forehead, just above the eyebrow. "I love you."

"I love you."

"You're infuriating."

"I love you." Beverly finishes the last of her wine and lies back, watching Kathryn and Jean-Luc examine every nanometre of the sleeping baby. Exhaustion creeps over her, sinking warm into her euphoria like a hot bath.

Kathryn's so full of hormones that she's nearly buzzing with life and Jean-Luc's awestruck, more enraptured with Elsa than he was of the new iEnterprise/i.

After a last tricorder scan of them both, Beverly lets the wine go to her head, allowing her eyelids to creep lower. Elsa's only an arm length away, Kathryn didn't even tear and the softness of the bed reminds her that she'll be sore.

She lets sleep come, listening to Kathryn murmuring to Elsa as the baby sleeps beside them. She could warn Kathryn to sleep while she can, but that would ruin the quiet. They'll wake later, when Elsa wants to feed again, but now her tiny eyes stare up, as if she can see past her mother off into the stars.

When Kathryn finally lies down beside her, she curls against Beverly, one hand on her, the other near the baby. Half-waking, Beverly just glimpses the smile resting on Kathryn's lips as if it never plans to leave.

Elsa, safe, with a whole universe waiting for her, sleeps on