This is actually 2 stories, a his and hers pov.  
These fit into the "Silences" universe but you don't 
have to have read that story to read these.


Tears
by astraplain@yahoo.com

Jacqui was crying.

Deep body wracking wails filled the cabin, the sound 
reverberating off every surface and slicing deep into 
Beverly's heart.

Back and forth endlessly she went, mindlessly pacing, 
one hand patting the tiny back while the other kept 
the baby nestled safely close.

Lullabies were repeated over and over until they were 
no longer comprehensible, sung by a voice long gone 
hoarse.

Hour after hour Jacqui cried, her high pitched wails 
setting Beverly's nerves on edge.

Desperately she tried one thing, then another and 
another, using every trick she knew and making up a 
few new ones.  With each failure the hard knot of 
tension in Beverly's chest grew.

"Please Jacqui," she begged, unshed tears 
constricting her throat.  "Please.  You're all right.  
It's all right."

She was frantic to calm the child, to soothe and 
comfort her.  It was the most basic of a mother's 
duties, yet Beverly was unable to master it.

Jacqui continued to wail and Beverly continued her 
mindless crooning, her voice taking on a note of 
desperation, her walking just a little faster, her 
body tense.  Over and over her thoughts turned, 
demanding a solution.  Demanding.

The fears, the hopes, the unspeakable joy of the last 
18 months filled Beverly's mind and heart.  The Borg 
Queen and her vicious attack, the trip to earth's 
past and the near end to this ship and its crew.  
Those images passed quickly, horrific in their own 
way, yet not nearly as heartbreaking as Jean-Luc's 
transformation.  His cold indifference to her, his 
sudden bloodlust.  He'd nearly destroyed them all.

In the end, his soul restored, he had come back to 
her, and he had gotten them home.  But the personal 
price they had paid - the miscarriage of his son.  
They had survived the Borg Queen, but the miscarriage 
had nearly destroyed them.

Beverly looked down at the squalling baby.  Jacqui 
had saved them. She had brought Jean-Luc back and 
more.  

Beverly had no regrets about the difficult pregnancy 
- with its frustrating restrictions and endless bed 
rest.  In its own way the confinement had been a gift 
- allowing Jean-Luc to find his strength as a 
caregiver, and letting her rediscover herself, 
finding hopes and dreams she'd nearly forgotten. 

She loved this child so much she ached from it.  Yet 
now, desperate to soothe her, she was at her most 
helpless.

"Please," she begged again.  "Please."

Without pause, Jacqui continued to wail.

Beverly's throat was tight, her heart beating fast as 
she struggled with herself. She would not cry.

Jacqui was allowed to cry; she was a baby. She was a 
Picard.

Beverly was a Picard in name only, adopting her 
husband's heritage to please him, filling in the gap 
left by her own, less sterling family past.

But marrying a name wouldn't free her from her Howard 
past. She learned that with Jack.  She came from a 
long line of proud, strong women.  Her mother, dead 
too soon; her Nana, the last of the nobler line, 
living the Howard ways, complete to the family candle 
and ghost.  GrandNana and all the other Howard women 
Beverly knew only from family journals.  All brave, 
strong, proud and every one of them alone.

There was never a shortage of men around, many 
willing enough to trade their freedom for a Howard 
siren in their bed, and most of them just as quick to 
bolt when the Howard strength threatened to crush 
them. Nothing, not a name change or a move into 
shared quarters, not even a child had softened this 
curse.

"Damn him."

Beverly swore aloud, startling Jacqui for a moment. 
The baby stopped, mid-wail, to look at her mother 
before starting up again.  Beverly returned to her 
mindless pacing and patting, trying not to say 
another word.  She wouldn't think of Jean-Luc, gone 
for 6 weeks to negotiate a peace treaty.  She would 
think of nothing and keep moving.  Jacqui continued 
to cry, her wails becoming a bit quieter, her head 
resting more often on Beverly's shoulder.

Jacqui didn't care about family history or curses or 
about her mother being left alone.

Jacqui wasn't hungry or thirsty or wet.  Beverly had 
tended to all that.  Jacqui just needed to cry

After a few more minutes of pacing, of thinking too 
much then thinking nothing at all; after everything 
else, Beverly held her sobbing daughter closer, 
accepted her failure, and allowed her own tears to 
fall.

 end.



Tears Too
by astraplain@yahoo.com

He knew her better than she thought he did. He knew 
how frightened she was of being left again, abandoned 
by yet another man she loved. Just as her grandfather 
and father had left her.  Just as Jack and then 
Wesley had left.

Just as their son...

Yes, Jean-Luc Picard understood her fear all too 
well.

Perhaps it was because only he seemed to remember her 
without the patina of professionalism she now wore.  
He remembered the young Howard hellcat and how she 
had softened and grown in Jack's love.

Jack had loved her.  He had worshipped her. He had 
been exactly what Beverly had needed - willing to 
commit to her completely; loving her in ways she 
could see and feel.

Jack had been the man for Beverly Howard. So much 
more right for her than the ambitious, driven Jean-
Luc Picard who adored the Howard temptress from 
behind the mask of friendship.

But Jack had gone, taken from his young bride by the 
cruel impartiality of death, and the woman left 
behind was no longer Beverly Howard.

So many years and excuses kept them apart before the 
Enterprise brought them together again.  It was a 
different woman, stronger, more confident and far 
more reserved, that walked onto his bridge that first 
day.  

It was easy to accept the image she presented, to 
ignore the truth he knew when the facade was so 
appealing.  But time and circumstances conspired to 
break through that facade, stripping away his as 
well, and forcing both of them, at long last, to 
accept the truth.

It wasn't an easy relationship.  There were so many 
ways he feared he might fail her, and she was so much 
needier than he ever imagined. But it was that need, 
surprising as it was, that gave him the strength he 
needed as well.  

He needed her to need him.

It was that need that brought him home early, 
conspiring to reach her before the end of another 
long night.  He traded favors, bartered and bargained 
in ways that would have made Walker proud, and in the 
end, he stepped onto the deck of his ship at 04:37 
hours.

It was good to be home.

*****

He heard the faint wail as he reached the doorway to 
his cabin.  He paused a moment, just out of the 
sensor's range and listened.  Very faintly he could 
hear Beverly's voice, strained and hoarse.  It made 
his heart ache.

She had sacrificed so much for this child.

Unable to wait any longer he stepped to the doors and 
through, barely waiting for them to open.  Instantly 
Jacqui's wails stopped and her head lifted off 
Beverly's shoulder.  She regarded her father with 
serious eyes, then started to cry again.

Beverly looked at him helplessly, her own tears 
following the paths of the many that had already 
fallen, the collar of her nightgown damp.  

Without speaking he folded them both into his 
embrace. Tears burned the corners of his eyes and, 
without shame, he let them fall.  

end