Title: Volte-face

Author: Whoa Nellie ([email protected])

Series: TNG

Rating: NC-17

Codes: P/Vash

Summary: The most joyous time in the Picards' lives suddenly takes an unexpected turn.

This story was originally posted to ASC on  April 29, 2004 and occurs in the Whoa Nellie universe "Double Entendre" timeline, accepting all TNG canon through the movie "Generations" while adding Vash (from the TNG episodes 'Captain's Holiday' and 'Qpid') onboard as the ship's chief archaeologist.

 

As always: Paramount owns all the marbles, we just have a lot more fun playing with them.

Feedback is always appreciated - posted or e-mail.

 

Whoa Nellie's Romance Star Trek Fan Fiction Stories

http://whoanellie.fortunecity.com

 

Volte-face

 

                Captain Jean-Luc Picard strolled into Sickbay, nodding genially to the on-duty staff as he headed toward Beverly's office.  "I realize that I'm not the easiest person to get in for a routine physical, Doctor; however, I know for a fact that my next physical is more than three months away.  Don't you think it's a bit early to start requesting that I report to Sickbay?"

 

                "If I'd known that early requests would get you in here so easily, I'd have started doing that years ago," Beverly remarked.  "Actually, it's not your physical but rather the results of your wife's physical that I called you down here for."

 

                It wasn't unusual for Vash and Beverly to spend time together so seeing her sitting in Beverly's office hadn't initially concerned him.  Now he moved to stand beside her chair reaching for her hand.  "What's wrong?"

 

                "Nothing's wrong," Beverly quickly assured him.  "Although when she said that she wasn't in the mood for chocolate earlier, I was concerned."

 

                Vash patted Jean-Luc's hand.  "I told her that it was nothing."

 

                "You turn down chocolate about as often as you turn down jewelry," Picard noted dryly.  "And you've been a little under the weather the past couple of days."

 

                "Jean-Luc, sweetheart, there's a very good reason for my being tired," Vash began.  "I wasn't entirely sure until Bev checked things out, but we're expecting."

 

                "Expecting what?  When?" he asked, panic sending his heart down into his stomach.

 

                Vash stood, tenderly cupping his face in her hands and directed his gaze to hers.  "A baby, Jean-Luc, I'm pregnant."

 

                "In about 35 more weeks," Beverly added.  "She's just barely pregnant, not even late yet."

 

                A flood of relief froze when the import of their news hit him.  Unbidden, a vision of a huge, brightly-decorated Christmas tree with mounds of presents and happy children flashed through his mind.  He placed a reverent kiss in the center of each delicate palm before drawing her toward him and holding her warm, lithe curves against him.  "Is everything all right?" he asked Beverly quietly.

 

                Pulling back, Vash winked at him impishly.  "Aren't you going to ask how it happened?"

 

                "I know how these things happen."

 

                "But then I could tell Bev where it happened," she said.

 

                Picard dropped a kiss on her lush, red lips thrust out in a mock pout.  "Since when has that ever stopped you?"

 

                "You have a point," Vash replied.  "So how soon do we arrive at Aldebaran III?  I have some serious shopping to do while you're doing your diplomat thing."

 

................

 

                Picard stepped out onto the sidewalk and gave a sigh of relief in concert with the hiss of the door closing behind him.  Intra-Federation politics never seemed to get any easier; if anything, the nuances of inter-regional relationships only got more complex over time.  It was a beautiful day so he skipped the transport station and started walking in the direction of the open market where the Enterprise had informed him that he could find his wife.  His meeting had concluded much sooner than he'd expected, which gave him a free afternoon to spend with Vash.  Even with crowds of people from more than two dozen races teeming through the market, he quickly spotted the familiar brunette head that he was seeking.  Not surprisingly, she was admiring the pieces on display at a jeweler's booth; surprisingly and frustratingly, there was no security officer in sight.

 

...............

 

                "Lar, could you hold these?" Vash asked, handing him several packages without waiting for his answer.

 

                Lar accepted the bags without comment.  He had lasted longer than any of her previous security guards in large part due to making himself indispensable to her; of course, being telepathic often came in handy with her as well.

 

                "If I'm going to be getting fat, I'll need some stylish clothes to conceal it.  I refuse to be a frumpy beached whale."  Vash was rifling through racks of clothes, talking to no one in particular but assuming that Geoffrey was listening telepathically if not aurally.  A Betazed security officer was turning out to be less tedious than she'd thought when Jean-Luc had sprung him on her.

 

                "As there is no correct response to that comment," Lar began, "I trust you'll understand if I simply stand here and hold these bags quietly."

 

                Holding out several outfits to try on, she winked at him.  "You're such a good boy, Geoff.  You'll make some woman a fine husband one day.  I'll be in the dressing room."

 

..........................

 

                Picard reached Vash just as she picked up an intricate, latinum-filet choker and was holding it up to the slender column of her throat while viewing herself in a large mirror.  Stepping in behind her, his hands wound around her trim waist and splayed protectively over the flat plane of her stomach.  "It's perfect," he muttered to her.  To the vendor behind the table, he said, "she'll take it."

 

                "Yes, sir, Captain Picard," the vendor replied.  "Would the lady like to wear it or should I wrap it for you?"

 

                Picard was already working the clasp.  "She'll wear it."

 

                Vash turned around, gracing him with her most disarming smile.  "Thank you, it's a beautiful  piece."

 

                Mindful of their very public location, he gently tilted her face up to his and brushed a soft, tender kiss across her lips.  "You're a truly beautiful piece," he whispered quietly so that no one else could hear.  Grinning, he shot her a quick wink.  "I have the whole afternoon free, how would you like to help me waste it?"

 

                "What did you have in mind?" she cooed innocently.

 

                "A hotel suite where I could kiss every inch of your incredible body and suckle at your breasts, letting my tongue dance across your stiffened nipples before making long, slow, sweet love with you all afternoon," he proposed wolfishly.

 

                Vash pressed a hand to her choker-adorned throat.  "My, my, you really know how to make a girl an offer she couldn't possibly refuse."

 

                "And afterwards, we'll discuss why and how you managed to lose your security guard yet again," he admonished, "especially now."  He steered her toward the hotel, sighing deeply.  "Let me guess, you just couldn't resist the temptation to ditch a telepath just to prove that you could.  What am I going to do with you?"

 

                Vash shrugged, a coy smile on her face.  "Your previous suggestion sounded good.  Why don't we start there and see where the mood takes us."

 

                It was ridiculous for him to feel the way he did and he knew that; but it was undeniably exciting to be sneaking off to some convenient hotel with his wife in the middle of the afternoon.  It had been a while since they'd indulged in any kind of romantic spontaneity which made this 'chance' encounter all the more arousing and with a baby on the way,  there wouldn't be many more such opportunities.  Picard also knew he should be lecturing her and her assigned security guard except for a growing suspicion that Vash had arranged for their meeting in the market through machinations that would undoubtedly impress him when he got the details.  It was that final rationalization that erased all hesitation as he registered them and received the authorization code to the hotel's honeymoon suite.  The presence of other guests in the lift restrained him from kissing Vash the way he wanted to in spite of the painful, throbbing insistence of his body.

 

                Vash trailed her fingers down an impressively hard backside, grinning impishly at his startled reaction when one finger slid between his legs to find the even more impressive bulge there.  She giggled softly as his hands captured hers in a strong, warm grasp.  Moving closer, she pressed herself against him, her body thrumming in anticipation.  She preceded him out of the lift when it stopped at their floor, pausing abruptly which allowed her hips to grind against his when he bumped into her from behind.

 

                The electric charge from the unexpected contact raced through his body.  He swept her lithe form into his arms and strode intently toward their suite. 

 

                "Oh my," Vash cooed while nibbling on his ear.  "This is what I call being serviced."

 

                The feeling of her lips and teeth tugging on his earlobe created twinges of pleasure that inflamed his already-throbbing arousal.  Her warm breath wafting across his skin sent shivers racing down the length of his spine.  He didn't even stop inside the door, barking out the command to lock the door as he continued on into the bedroom.  His mind was telling him to slow down, that they had hours to enjoy one another.  His body, on the other hand, was demanding satisfaction.  He lowered her to the bed, trying to disentangle himself from her grasp but getting pulled down onto her instead.  Her hands held his head firmly, her tongue forcing its way past his lips to delve into the dark, damp recesses of his mouth.  She was relentless, devouring him, demanding his total surrender.  "Our clothes," he mumbled around her tongue.

 

                Rolling them so that she was straddling his hips and without breaking the kiss, she maneuvered her clothes off and opened his uniform pants to free his straining length.  "Not a problem," she panted, sitting upright and grinding her hips against him.

 

                Picard was speechless at a sexual aggressiveness he hadn't seen in her in a very, very long time.  Idly wondering if it was possible to bottle pregnancy hormones, he reached out to steady her hips to help guide her down onto him.  His hips jerked in frustration when she stayed where she was and pulled his hands away, moving them to her breasts.  In response to her unspoken demand, he began kneading the firm mounds, occasionally flicking his thumbs across the hard nipples.  She ripped open his uniform jacket, shoved his shirt up and dragged her nails across the plane of his stomach in a torment of pleasure and sensation until finally she braced herself against his abdomen and held himself over him, allowing only the tip to penetrate the moist folds of flesh.  "S'il vous plait, Vash, mon Dieu, s'il vous plait," he gasped, his hands tightening around her breasts.

 

                Vash rubbed herself sinuously against him.  "I do like a man who's big enough to beg."  She lowered herself slowly until he was completely sheathed inside her body.  "And you are definitely big enough.  Okay, boy, giddyup."

 

                Groaning at the pleasure of being buried in her incredible softness, he began pushing his hips up to meet hers.  She was riding him hard and fast, slamming herself down against him.  Her knees dug into his sides as she pushed for more.  At one point, she moved her hands back to brace on his thighs and shifting the angle of their bodies in a deliciously erotic way.  Her position forced her breasts out and one hand found its way to cup the gently bobbing weight.  Dimly he tried to gauge where she was, but he wasn't sure if he could wait for her.  Pressure was mounting, pleasure multiplying incrementally each time she drove herself onto him.  Suddenly she stiffened, her body spasming uncontrollably around him.  He arched up to find his own release when she reached between their bodies and gripped him firmly.

 

                "Oh no, my not-so-little captain, no mercy for you yet," she taunted, a double entendre playing on his French.  "My itch has been scratched, but I seem to recall you suggesting some intriguing uses of your mouth."

 

                "Later," he gasped.

 

                Raising herself almost completely off of him, she balanced over him and arched an eyebrow challengingly.  "Come and get it."

 

                Picard levered his arms under his hips and grunted as he lifted himself to slide completely into her body.  He managed several thrusts before grabbing her and rolling her under him to begin driving himself deep into her with long, hard strokes.  His pulse was pounding so hard that his heart felt as if it were going to explode.   His mouth found hers, his tongue plunging in to find and stroke hers in an erotic emulation of their bodies.  He pulled her legs farther up his body, slipping his hands under her knees to push her legs up over their heads.  Spreading his knees apart for better leverage, he increased his tempo and drove into her as hard and fast as he could.  She was straining up against him, soft sounds of passion coming from her throat amid the erotic sounds of sex filling the room. 

 

                "Oh God," she yelled.  "I'm coming, I'm . . ."  her words became a mindless scream and her body convulsed with overwhelming pleasure.

 

                Picard released her legs and buried himself completely into her body one last time, a powerful orgasm of his own ripping through him.  He collapsed onto her, breathing heavily.  "Merci, madame, increible, tre increible."

 

                "It certainly was," Vash moaned softly.  She stretched luxuriantly beneath the weight of his body.  "But you did say something about applying your tongue to various parts of my body earlier.  A promise is a promise."

 

                "You are insatiable, my little vixen," he murmured softly.  "Give me a minute to get my uniform and boots off and I will lick every drop of sweat from your body."

               

................................................

 

                "You know what I forgot," Vash was saying, "shoes.  I'm definitely going to need comfortable shoes that don't look like . . . " her voice trailed off as her eyes fell on an unbelievable sight.

 

                Picard stopped dead in his tracks on the sidewalk just outside of the hotel where he'd spent a very delightful afternoon with his wife . . . or so he'd thought.  Sitting at a table in the sidewalk cafe next to the hotel was Vash--rather, a Vash--with her security officer, Lieutenant Lar.  He immediately looked to the woman at his side and saw her react to the sight by reaching into a pocket.  He grabbed her, slipping the device out of her hand before she could activate it.

 

                Vash wasn't sure what to say when she approached Picard and . . . herself.  Part of her was hoping that this was an out-of-body experience or that it wasn't really her Jean-Luc; she had encountered alternate versions of him before.  "Jean-Luc?" she said hesitantly.

 

                Picard ignored her and addressed Lar.  "Have you been with her all day, Lieutenant?"

 

                "Yes, sir," Lar acknowledged.  "She has not left my sensory range since we beamed down to the surface."

 

                Picard tightened his grip on the woman beside him, a sinking feeling growing in the pit of his stomach.  "Who are you?"

 

                Vash knew before the other woman said anything that her Jean-Luc had been with this doppelganger of her.  When she'd first caught sight of him leaving the hotel, his face held the familiar, sated expression that she knew well; now she watched doubt creep across his features.  Her fears were confirmed with the woman's words.

 

                "After all of the time and effort you've expended getting to know every millimeter of me this afternoon," the other Vash purred seductively, "you shouldn't have to ask, tiger."

 

                Picard watched the color drain out of his Vash's face as she grabbed Lar for support.  He tapped his communicator, "Picard to Enterprise, have security standing by in the transporter room and beam four up."

 

                "I'll just be going now," the other Vash said, trying to pull away.

 

                "Not until we sort this out," Picard stated flatly just as the transporter beam enveloped them.

 

.....................................................

 

                In Sickbay, Beverly snapped her tricorder shut.  "They're genetically identical; in fact, the only difference between them, aside from Vash's pregnancy, is their quantum signatures."

 

                "You can tell which one belongs here with certainty?" Picard asked, already knowing that he had spent the afternoon betraying his wife with another woman.  How could he not have known?

 

                "Apparently you couldn't," Vash snapped at him.  She didn't even care that half of his senior staff was in the room.

 

                Geordi and Data entered Sickbay to find two Vashes sitting on adjacent biobeds with Worf and two security officers surrounding one and Lar beside the other.  Dr. Crusher was talking with the captain, Riker and Counselor Troi.

 

                "Mr. Data, Mr. LaForge," Picard acknowledged their arrival.  He handed them the device that he had taken away from the 'other' Vash.  "Analyze this, I want a full report as soon as possible."

 

                "That's mine," the other Vash protested.  "You have no right to hold me or my property; I've broken none of your precious Federation rules."

 

                Picard gestured for LaForge and Data to leave with the device.  "That has yet to be determined.  Until we know where you came from and what that device is, you will be our guest.  Mr. Worf, if Dr. Crusher is finished, please escort our guest to our most secure guest facilities."

 

                "What a delightful euphemism for your brig," the other Vash drawled sarcastically.  She jerked her arm out of Worf's grasp.  "Down, boy; better yet, roll over and play dead."

 

                Worf gestured toward the two officers who instantly positioned themselves on either side of the prisoner, their weapons at the ready.

 

                "I'm coming, I'm coming," the other Vash huffed as she hopped off the bed.  Winking suggestively at Picard she said, "sound familiar, tiger?"

 

                Vash couldn't stand another moment of this.  Jean-Luc had barely said two words to her, but the look on his face spoke volumes.  For the first time in her life, she wished that she were the type of woman who fainted, maybe her husband would actually look at her if she just fell to the floor motionless.  Before she burst into tears, exploded in anger or otherwise humiliated herself more than Jean-Luc had already humiliated her, she jumped up and silently stormed out of Sickbay.

 

                "Was it something I said?" the other Vash asked in obvious amusement.  "You'd better worry less about me and more about your marriage, lover."

 

                "Get her out of here," Picard commanded tersely.

 

.......................................................

 

                "Captain," Riker objected.  "Until we know what she's doing here and where she came from, you shouldn't be alone with her."  They were in Picard's ready room discussing the situation and the captain had decided that, given his relationship with her in other realities, he would be interrogating this alternate Vash by himself.

 

                "You are always remarking on how formidable your wife is," Worf reminded him.

 

                "And she did once take you with your own sword," Riker pointed out, shrinking slightly at the glare he earned from Picard.

 

                "MY Vash," Picard stressed, "is a resourceful, remarkable, strong woman.  This other Vash is obviously from an alternate universe.  Our best chance of learning how and why she's here is to try to get her to talk to me."

 

                "I have a sensor sweep of this sector already in progress," Worf reported.  "If we are dealing with a rupture in the space-time continuum, there may be detectable indications."

 

                Picard stood and straightened his uniform jacket.  "Very good, keep me informed.  Now, if you'll excuse me, I am going to see our guest."

 

                Riker started to say something, paused and then continued on.  "Have you talked to your Vash yet?  She seemed pretty upset."

 

                "And tell her what?" Picard shot back.  "We don't know anything yet much less have a plan for resolving it.  I'll talk to my wife when I'm sure that my ship is not in danger and when I have something to tell her."  He was stalling and he knew it.  After their experiences with the alternate versions of himself, he had no idea how he was going to deal with this.

 

.....................................................

 

                "Go away," Vash grumped from her position on the couch.  After leaving Sickbay, she had fled to their quarters for some privacy in which to rant, rave and cry.  She threw an empty box of tissues across the room as if to emphasize her point and snatched another box from the coffee table.

 

                The door slid open to admit Beverly and Deanna.  Beverly held up a tray of plump strawberries.  "The replicator records show that you're eating a lot of fruit, so since you're not in the mood for chocolate, we brought these."

 

                "With the requisite whipped cream," Deanna added, holding up the large bowl she carried.

 

                "I said 'go away'," Vash pointed out, blowing her nose.  "I don't want to talk to anyone."

 

                Taking the strawberries from Beverly, Deanna set them on the coffee table with the cream.  She took one of the berries and dragged it through the cream before settling down on the couch beside Vash and taking a bite.  "We didn't ask if you wanted to talk."

 

                "Besides," Beverly replied, "we're not just anyone."  She ordered three glasses of lemonade from the replicator and carried them over to the sitting area.  Curling up in the chair next to the sofa, she reached for a berry and dunked it in the whipped cream.  "These are good berries."

 

                "My compliments to the replicator, it outdid itself with these berries," Deanna agreed after eating a second one.

 

                "And the whipped cream seems especially . . . whippy," Beverly remarked off-handedly.

 

                Vash listened to their inane chatter with growing frustration.  She didn't like to cry in the first place, she certainly didn't want to do it in front of an audience.  Ludicrously, it annoyed her that they weren't even talking about the current situation; there was this huge, honking elephant in the room and they were talking about whether some replicators produced better comestibles than others.  "He seduced her," she suddenly burst out.  "I know he initiated it, he intentionally took some other woman off to a sleazy hotel to have sex with her.  I know she didn't just jump him out of the clear, blue sky and carry him off to that hotel against his will.  How could he hold her, much less fuck her, and not be able to tell that it wasn't me?  Godamnit, what about my wedding ring?  The thing's a fucking rock and he didn't notice that 'I' wasn't wearing it?"

 

                Watching the very distraught Vash hold her wedding ring out as if presenting a piece of evidence, Beverly calmly took a sip of lemonade.  "Okay, you have a point there; but, how often do you make a point of looking for his ring?"

 

                "Besides," Deanna piped up, "don't you both take your rings off at one time or another for work-related reasons?"

 

                Vash skipped the strawberries and gathered a huge fingerful of the cream.  "Shopping isn't exactly the same thing as 'desecrating ancient burial sites' as my philandering husband has so eloquently described my work."

 

                "That's not fair," Beverly interrupted, "calling him a philanderer isn't exactly an accurate description."

 

                Deanna concurred.  "Technically he . . . 'spent the afternoon' with you."

 

                "Bullshit," Vash snorted, tears welling up in her eyes again.  "He had sex with a woman who wasn't his wife.  How could he not tell the difference?"

 

                "You couldn't," Deanna pointed out softly.

 

                Vash was momentarily confused.  "What do you mean?"

 

                Beverly picked up on Deanna's train of thought.  "The alternate version of the captain your first night on the Enterprise."

 

                Vash flushed.  "I wasn't married to Jean-Luc and I hadn't had sex with him in several years.  Jean-Luc and I have been married for several years and we just had sex last night.  Maybe he didn't want to see the difference," tears flowed freely now, her words interrupted with choking sobs.  "He probably thought it was great, it was like it was for us in the beginning.  Now I'm just an old ball-and-chain and about to start resembling a penguin waddling everywhere.  She's wild and exciting while I'm thinking about comfortable shoes and my wildest fantasy right now is a nice, long, hot bubble bath and yes," she snapped at Beverly, "I know I can't have one during my pregnancy."

 

                "You can have a bath," Beverly said.  "It just can't be long or hot."

 

                Deanna slipped into her counselor role.  "Captain Picard is very excited about the baby, it's something he had convinced himself that he'd never have--a family of his own--and you're the one giving it to him.  He loves you more now than ever."

 

                "That didn't stop him from screwing another woman," Vash sniffled.

 

                Beverly spoke up.  "If I recall, even when you knew that the alternate Picard wasn't your Jean-Luc, you were still physically attracted to him; you didn't love him but you were still confused by your reaction to him."

 

                "The captain didn't know that it wasn't you," Deanna pointed out.  "Alternate universe cross-over isn't something people expect to encounter or even think about until it happens."

 

                Vash grabbed another tissue and blew her nose.  "Given our history, he should have thought about it.  He's a Starfleet officer, the Captain of the flagship, he should be more observant."

 

                Beverly made an observation.  "Jean-Luc had a very similar reaction when the shoe was on the other foot.  I believe your exact words at the time were 'Picard, you arrogant son-of-a-bitch'."

 

                Deanna began chuckling softly.  "Not that he would try that maneuver with you."

 

                Seeing the hint of a smile on her friend's face, Beverly played up the idea.  "And in the center ring, Jean-Luc Picard pushes the envelope on death-defying stunts as he attempts to use his wife's own words against her."

 

                All three women were openly laughing at the visual painted by Beverly's 'announcement'.  After a couple of moments, Deanna got back to the subject at hand.  "We're not saying that you don't have reason to be upset," she said.  "We're here as your friends to help you sort things out.  Do you remember how you felt when you first found out that you'd been with an alternate version of the captain?"

 

                "Sick."

 

                "How do you think Jean-Luc is feeling right now?" Beverly asked.

 

                Vash pulled a pillow from behind her and cradled it against her stomach.  "That's not fair, I'm tired, I'm queasy and I'm upset.  I should be able to yell at my husband for having sex with another woman without his crew defending him to me--Oh God!" she gasped suddenly.

 

                Beverly was reaching for her tricorder as she asked, "What is it?"

 

                "Everybody knows," she wailed.  "Everyone on the ship knows that my husband cuckolded me."

 

                Deanna tried to sort through the jumble of emotions looking for some way to get through to her.  She decided to try another approach.  "There are so many things wrong with that sentence that I barely know where to begin.  First, not everyone on the ship knows what happened; I'm sure there are at least a couple of the lower decks where they haven't heard about it yet.  Second, so what?  Everybody on the ship knows how much the two of you love each other and the incident with the alternate Picard was common knowledge.  Third, a cuckold is a man whose wife is having an affair.  If you're going to be melodramatic, at least be accurate."

 

                "I realize that this might be a bad time to ask this," Beverly began, "but what is the comparable term for a woman?"

 

                "Pathetic," Vash sniffled.  "Actually, there is no term in Federation Standard although several matriarchal societies have specific terms for such a woman; however, they typically lack a term for a man in those situations.  If you're trying to distract me, this isn't the topic I'd recommend."

 

                "Look," Deanna said.  "Yell at him all you want; knowing you, I know it'll make you feel better.  Just don't shut him out, listen to him and realize that he's hurting too.  This should be the happiest time in your life and Captain Picard wants very much to be a part of it."

 

                "Don't let my hormones overload my sensibilities," Vash summarized.  "I know I'm hormonal, I'm pregnant and I was looking forward to nine months of wild mood swings free and clear--a biological dispensation from rational thought.  This is just sucking all of the fun right out of it."

 

..................................................

 

                Picard steeled himself before striding through the door to the brig.  The alternate Vash was sitting cross-legged on the bunk in her cell, idly examining her fingernails.  He studied her, looking for something--anything--that should have tipped him off that this woman wasn't his wife.  He motioned for the security officer on duty to leave the room.

 

                The alternate Vash waited for several silent moments after the door slid closed before raising her attention to her guest standing on the other side of the forcefield.  "Ready for round two, lover?  Or would that be round three?  You were quite impressive this afternoon, I can't recall the last time my itch was so well scratched."

 

                "Who are you and how did you get here?"  He kept his voice controlled, not betraying the turmoil in his heart.  Nothing; as far as he could tell, he was talking to his wife.

 

                Stretching indolently, she casually rose and strutted across her cell to stand in front of him separated only by the forcefield.  "You first, lover--you know, it occurs to me that I never got around to learning your name.  I had more interesting things on . . . my mind," she purred suggestively.

 

                "Then what about this afternoon?" Picard asked.  "Why did you . . . "

 

                "Seemed like a good idea at the time," she shrugged.  "A sexy, virile, powerful man buys me expensive jewelry and comes onto me--"

 

                "Not you," Picard interrupted, "my wife."

 

                The alternate Vash gave a careless wave of one hand while caressing the necklace she still wore with the other.  "Semantics, at any rate it was a most satisfying way to spend the afternoon.  Pity you had to spoil what could have been a nice memory with your little Starfleet routine, Captain . . ."

 

                "Picard," he supplied, "Jean-Luc Picard and you are?"

 

                "Vash," she grinned.  "You certainly gasped it often enough while you were in the throes--"

 

                "What are you doing here?" Picard interjected quickly.

 

                "Well, Jean-Luc," she drawled, "obviously this isn't quite where I intended to be.  My transporter must have malfunctioned; if you'll just return my property to me, I'll get out of your hair . . . figuratively speaking, of course," she amended with a wink.

 

                Picard resisted the urge to pace, if he turned away from her she might see it as a weakness.  In spite of her sense of humor being a slightly harder version of his Vash's, the wry look on her face and the lilt to her tone was so much like his Vash's that it was difficult to keep in mind who he was and wasn't talking to.  She couldn't know how much she was affecting him.  Being even remotely like his Vash, she would use any advantage to her own benefit; being even remotely as intelligent as his Vash, that would make her very dangerous.  "Where, exactly, did you intend to be?" he asked instead.

 

                The alternate Vash considered her answer for a moment.  "Anywhere except where I was when I activated it."

 

                Bowing his head in tacit acknowledgment, Picard gave a knowing smirk.  "Point taken, you're not going to tell me anything you don't want to.  What do you want to tell me?"

 

                "There's a fascinating game that was played by Earth children called Truth or Dare.  Are you familiar with it?" she asked.

 

                "Yes," he replied cautiously.

 

                Her hands on her hips, she tilted her head to one side.  "Let's skip the Dare part and we each answer a question from the other honestly.  I'll go first.  Was this afternoon's romp the best sex you've ever had?"

 

                "No," he answered, honestly and succinctly.  "Where did you get the device that you used to transport between realities?"

 

                "Risa," she responded just as succinctly.  "Where did we--rather my other self--and you meet?"

 

                "Risa."  He stopped and thought for a moment.  "Is that a Vorgon transporter?"

 

                "Yes," the other Vash gasped, startled at the accuracy of his question.  "How do you know about Vorgons?"

 

                Picard realized that he'd thrown her off her game with his last question.  Maybe the secret to getting to her was as simple as the plain, unvarnished truth.  "I had a run-in with them on Risa; that was where I met my Vash incidentally.  How did you get a transporter away from them?"  He was very curious about that considering the Vorgons activated their transporters by touching the side of their head.

 

                "Very carefully," she smirked.  "I acquired it at the same time I acquired the Tox Uthat."

 

                "That was how I met my Vash except she didn't get the Tox Uthat nor did she acquire a Vorgon transporter."

 

                "She got you, instead," the alternate Vash remarked.  "Nice deal.  So what'd you do, give the Uthat to the Vorgons?"

 

                "No," he said.  "I destroyed it.  What did you do with the Uthat?"

 

                A slow grin spread across her face.  "I made a very tidy profit with it."

 

                "I thought you intended to present it to the Daystrom Institute."

 

                "They were in the bidding," she offered.  "They just didn't come up with the winning bid.  Were you and my other self married right after that little adventure?"

 

                Picard had already realized that, in her reality, they'd never met; there could be any number of reasons that their initial meeting hadn't happened, but the bottom line was that he was a complete stranger to this woman.  "No, it was some time later when she was assigned by the Archaeology Council as the Enterprise's Chief Archaeologist."

 

                "Archaeology Council, assigned," the alternate Vash snorted.  "What did you do to me?  I can't even imagine being weak and insipid enough to acknowledge the geezer group much less take orders from them or anyone else."

 

                Picard had to grin at that last statement.  "My Vash doesn't take orders and only considers suggestions when she's in the mood to.  Where were you transporting from when your Vorgon device malfunctioned?"

 

                Eyeing him speculatively, she answered.  "A passenger ship, in my world the Federation is on the losing end of a war with an enemy known as the Dominion.  The ship that I was traveling on was attacked and destroyed.  I barely had time to activate the transporter--I didn't have to input temporal coordinates so I should have transported to Aldebaran III in the same time."

 

                "The energy from the ship's explosion might have caused the malfunction," Picard offered.  "Why Aldebaran and not Risa?"

 

                "Not my taste," the alternate Vash retorted.  "Risa is a private resort for . . . well, let's call it alternative sexual tastes.  Whips, chains, sex slaves and the whole S/M thing isn't my pleasure; although, having you across my knee for a good spanking is a very appealing fantasy at the moment.  Interested?"

 

                "No."

 

                The alternate Vash sighed in mock disappointment.  "Pity, that rock-hard ass of yours would shine a beautiful shade of red--command uniform crimson.  Have I--rather, the other me--ever spanked you?"

 

                "No, how do you use the transporter?"  That wasn't how he'd wanted to phrase that, but the woman was seriously rattling his composure. 

 

                "It comes in very handy for acquiring archaeological treasures for 'very grateful' patrons," she shrugged.  "Am I in Starfleet here?"

 

                "No, my wife is a civilian," he replied.  Obviously she'd realized that referring to his Vash and herself as one and the same bothered him; he'd have to learn to ignore it.  "What archaeological treasure were you after in a war zone?  Why didn't you just jump into the future and avoid the war entirely?"

 

                The alternate Vash pointed a manicured finger at him.  "That's cheating, Jean-Luc, one question at a time.  I'll just have to ask an extra question or two of my own.  As far as your questions go, I do live in a time after the war, but the artifacts that I was seeking don't exist then.  I had to go back to when they existed in order to procure them."

 

                "Steal them."

 

                She shot him a dirty look and continued.  "What I was retrieving for the purpose of historical preservation were the two Orbs of the Prophets on Bajor.  The seven on Cardassia survive the war and end up in a private collection, but Bajor is completely destroyed along with the two Orbs.  The only way to complete the collection was to go back to when Bajor was still there along with the Orbs.  Of course, since Bajor doesn't exist in my time, I couldn't input the spatial coordinates; I entered the temporal coordinates and was traveling to Bajor by ship."

 

                "You steal priceless, sometimes powerful relics from periods in history and sell it to the highest bidder," Picard summarized.

 

                The alternate Vash gave him a pointed look.  "I *rescue* significant pieces of history from Starfleet captains with a propensity for destroying them.  My patrons value the pieces much too highly to ever wantonly do such a thing."

 

                That struck a nerve with Picard; the times in which he'd been forced to choose his duty over his interest in archaeology were a constant source of badgering from his wife.  His Vash had once--teasingly--threatened to ban him from the archaeology lab for the protection of 'her' work.

 

                "How about a deal?" she suggested.

 

                "What did you have in mind?"

 

                The alternate Vash shrugged casually.  "I've found a number of valuable pieces of history in my reality; they're probably in similar places here.  I could tell you how to find the Stone of Gol, for example, and you could give me back my transporter and let me get back to my own life."

 

                Picard resisted the urge to tell her that he'd already assembled and used the Stone of Gol and that the Vulcan Government had subsequently destroyed it.  "How did you find it?"

 

                "Well, a toad by the name of Arctus Baran was in the process of locating the pieces.  I tried to go back and steal it before the Vulcans disassembled it, but when the Vulcans say that they had a violent past, they weren't kidding.  So, I had to steal one piece from a Vulcan museum and then tracked Baran's progress with the other two pieces.  Once he had shown me where they were, I jumped back a bit and got to them first.  Baran was a bit put-out, he even came after me in a later time and I had to put the old man out of my misery--in self-defense, of course," she added with an expression of wide-eyed innocence.

 

                "No deals," Picard replied.  Without further comment, he turned and left.

 

                "Hey!" she called after him.  "You still owe me two questions."

 

........................

 

                Picard stared at the door to his quarters with equal parts trepidation and frustration.  He dreaded facing Vash; he didn't want to see the hurt look on her face and he was somewhat worried that she wouldn't give him the chance to fix things.  Of course that was the frustration, he hadn't known that it wasn't his wife.  How do you fix something like this and why should he have to fix anything under the circumstances?  Of all the people in the universe, Vash should understand that it was an innocent mistake.  Even as he thought it, that fleeting hope of her understanding dissipated.  Oddly enough he hoped she was angry because that he could deal with; he didn't want to be responsible for making her cry, no matter how inadvertently.  Steeling himself, he stepped closer to activate the door mechanism and hesitantly entered his quarters.

 

                The room was dark, light filtering in through the window from the Aldebaran sun off in the distance.  Vash was stretched out on the couch, staring out at the vista of stars.  Blinking lights on his desk caught his eye and he walked over to find a medical tricorder laying open.

 

                "So you know who you're with," Vash said quietly.  "Since my wedding ring didn't seem to be enough of a clue in telling us apart, I thought you might need more technological help."

 

                Her words struck him with an almost physical force-- her ring, the other Vash didn't have a wedding ring.  She was wearing jewelry including several rings, but the third finger on her left hand was bare.  That was what he'd missed, there had been a way to tell and he'd completely overlooked it.  "Vash," he began, not sure where he was going.

 

                "Was it good?" Vash asked.  "Was she--"

 

                "No," he interrupted.  "You're right about the ring, I didn't notice that, I didn't even realize that difference until you pointed it out just now.  I don't know what to say here, I'm sorry doesn't feel sufficient but I didn't know it wasn't you.  I could never intentionally do anything to hurt you, I hope you know that."

 

                "I know that you had sex with . . . not me," she retorted sarcastically.  "I know that look I saw on your face as you left your cozy, little love nest with *her*.  I can easily imagine what she did to put that look there."

 

                Picard tried to stop the words but he was as hurt and confused as she was.  The other Vash had used him, not even caring what his name was, only caring about what she wanted.  "At least you weren't forced to watch," he threw back at her.

 

                "You son-of-a-bitch."

 

                "I'm sorry," he sighed.  He sat down in the chair next to the sofa.  He had never heard her so quietly angry before and it was more unnerving than any temper tantrum she had ever thrown.  "I'm sorry about everything.  I wish I could figure out how to fix all of this.  In most of the other realities that we've dealt with, that Vash was dead; it never even crossed my mind that she wasn't you until I saw you sitting with Lieutenant Lar."

 

                Vash forced herself to turn around and look at him.  "What do you want me to say, that I understand?  Fine, I understand that you couldn't tell--or didn't want to acknowledge--the difference between us."

 

                "Wait a minute," Picard broke in.  "Why do you think I wouldn't want to be able to differentiate between the love of my life and some other woman?"

 

                "Maybe because she's hotter, more exciting . . . "

                "Stop right there," he ordered.  "Aren't you the one who's always saying 'what's sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander'?  Well, I may not have been understanding about your initial encounter with my alternate, but I was very understanding when you told me that you were having erotic dreams about him.  I did eventually understand that your attraction to him came from your attraction to me."

 

                "So you did have wild monkey sex all afternoon with her," Vash wailed, standing up to look down at him.

 

                Picard rose, his voice calm and as soothing as he could manage.  "Yes, I had what I thought was passionate sex with my wife; but, in her reality we never met.  She didn't even know who I was nor did she care.  It didn't mean anything to her."

 

                Only slightly mollified, her bottom lip thrust out in a pout.  "Tell me that having sex with her didn't mean anything to you."

 

                "It didn't mean anything to me," he rushed to assure her.

 

                "How can you say that?" she cried out.  "You said you thought you were having sex with me; how can that mean nothing to you?"  She burst into tears and rushed into the bedroom, flinging herself onto the bed.

 

                Cursing the momentary lapse that obscured the classic, verbal rock and a hard place question, Picard followed her.  He sat beside her and gently stroked her hair as her shoulders shook with weeping.  Gently combing her hair back to reveal her tear-stained face, he waited for her to take a breath.  "I truly did think that I was making love to my wife and the mother of my child which means everything to me.  She didn't even know my name, chere.  I could never care about such a shallow version when I have the real thing right here."

 

                "Me?" came the muffled, sniffling question.

 

                He gathered her into his arms.  "Of course I mean you.  You are the most incredible woman I have ever known.  You drive me crazy, challenge me, amaze me, enchant me, confuse me, confound me and make me feel like I'm thirty years younger.  On top of all of that, you're carrying what will be my firstborn child.  I love you, Vash, more than anything."

 

                Vash rubbed her face against his shirt to dry her tears.  "I love you, Jean-Luc.  I know you're right and I'm wrong--I'll deny I said that if you ever repeat it--I just can't let this go quite yet."

 

                "You're asking me to let you obsess about what inadvertently happened between your alternate and me?" he asked incredulously.

 

                "I'm asking you to understand that I'm going to obsess about you having sex with another woman--okay, I'll admit that it's an alternate version of me--and there's nothing you can do or say that'll get me to stop obsessing about this before I'm ready to let it go."

 

                Picard leaned down and nuzzled her cheek.  "Nothing?"  His hand cradled her head, tilting her chin up and he lowered his face to hers.  His lips brushed ever-so-softly across hers, a tentative expression of feelings that he couldn't put into words.  Finally, they settled over hers in a warm, gentle kiss, deepening the kiss only when her arms slipped around his neck.  He entangled one hand in her silky hair, holding her as his tongue slipped out to trace the lush fullness of her lips before coaxing them apart to seek out the depths of her mouth.  His other arm pulled her body closer, his own body instantly responding to her nearness.  He tugged at the waist of her blouse, freeing it so that his hand could slide underneath to caress the smooth, creamy skin and inching its way up to the lacy brassiere.

 

                Vash pushed him away.  "Unfuckingbelievable--literally!  You must be out of your mind.  Do you really think that you're going to have sex with me on the SAME GODDAMN DAY that you had sex with another woman?"

 

                "Vash--"  So near and yet so far; for a supposedly skilled diplomat, he couldn't seem handle this situation with any delicacy at all.  He was starting to feel like he was in a sadistic version of the Kobayashi Maru, damned no matter what.

 

                "No, don't Vash me and get your hands out of my hair," she brushed his hands away.  "I don't even want you in here tonight."

 

                "Darling--"  He was the captain of the flagship and a master strategist, damnit, he could fix this if she'd just give him half a chance.  Right on the heels of that thought came the realization that she had given him that chance and he'd tried to seduce her--talk about majorly fucking up.

 

                Vash stood up.  "Her perfume is still on you, I can smell it.  How could you hold me and say such sweet, loving things only to turn it into a seduction while you're wearing the same clothes you wore when you fucked her? You didn't even have the decency to use a sonic shower much less change your uniform.  Just get out, sleep in on the couch, sleep in your ready room, right now I don't care.  Just get out of this room and leave me alone."  She gave a tremulous sigh as he dejectedly turned away.  "I'm not asking to you leave me, in fact I don't want you to leave me, Jean-Luc, just give me a little space right now.  I know you love me, but you can't fix this." 

 

.........................

 

                Picard massaged his neck wearily as he sat in his chair at the head of the table in the conference room.  He had slept on more uncomfortable surfaces in his life, but never in such an uncomfortable circumstances.  He'd heard Vash tossing and turning, occasionally even sobbing, throughout the night and the one thing he wanted to do--hold her--was the last thing she wanted from him.  Somehow he had to find a way to fix things between them; what he thought had been an incredible, idyllic afternoon of pleasure with his wife and the mother of his child was turning out to be a horrible nightmare.  He shook himself back to the moment when the rest of the senior staff began filing into the room. 

 

                "Well, Captain, I've examined the device," Geordi got right to business, "without knowing anything about Vorgon technology, I'm guessing at a few things.  There were a few circuits that were burned out, possibly from the energy overload that brought her here, but I think that it might be possible to transport over short distances as it is.  It wouldn't have much power, but it still appears to be capable of generating enough energy for short bursts."

 

                "Can it be repaired?" Riker asked, just beating Picard to the question.

 

                Geordi nodded.  "With Data's help, I should have it fully functional in a few days."

 

                "Can it be used to send her back to the reality that she came from?" Picard requested.

 

                It was Data who answered.  "It will take some time to make the necessary calculations, but yes, sir, I believe so."

 

                "Can it be done without letting her take the device with her?" Picard specified.

 

                Geordi exchanged glances with Data.  "I'll see what I can rig up, Captain."

 

                Picard reviewed the information in front of him.  "Well, submit your reports on the matter by the end of shift.  I'll be forwarding everything to Starfleet along with our options and wait for orders from HQ.  Dismissed."

 

                Deanna remained in her seat, unobtrusively gesturing for Worf and Beverly to leave without her.  Once she was alone with Picard, she rose and moved to a chair beside him.  "Would you like to talk about it, sir?"

 

                "Are you familiar with the old Earth saying about walking a mile in someone else's shoes, Counselor?"

 

                Before she replied, she paused to sort through the emotions she was picking up.  "Yes, sir."

 

                Picard abruptly switched gears.  "I should have been able to tell the difference."

 

                "They are identical," Deanna pointed out.

 

                "In appearance," he acknowledged.  "I kiss my wife every day and sleep with her every night; I should be able to distinguish my wife from any other woman blindfolded."

 

                Deanna shook her head.  "That's a myth, a very romantic one, but the reality is that the human body is designed to respond to certain stimulation.  The proper stimulation to certain parts of the body produces immensely pleasurable feelings whether it's what you want to feel or not.  The other Vash was obviously well-versed in male anatomy.  She knew what to do to give you the most pleasure and the fact is that, in terms of pheromones, appearance and even the sound of her voice, she's identical to your Vash."

 

                "A rationalization which I wasn't very quick to accept either," Picard recalled wryly. 

 

                "I would say that the shoe is on the other foot for both of you," she said.  "Vash will calm down and she does still love you very much.  Somewhere she does understand, she's just a bit emotional right now and this situation is difficult to deal with."

 

                "My wife has some damned uncomfortable footwear herself."

 

............................

 

                Picard stepped off the turbolift and headed for the brig.  The alternate Vash had requested an audience with him 'at his earliest convenience'.  It was amazing how she could get so much sarcasm into a written request.  The situation was becoming more intolerable by the minute, he was being shredded emotionally between the two Vashes--the one he loved didn't even want him to sleep in the same room and the other one manipulating him more shrewdly than any Ferengi.  She didn't act tough, but she had made comments that left no doubt as to her willingness to take every advantage and do whatever she had to--including murder--to get her way.  Part of him wished that he could just let her go, give her transporter back and get rid of her.  His Vash would forgive him, she still loved him but she was just a little too emotional from the pregnancy hormones to handle this; with the alternate Vash gone it would be easier.

 

                "You can't hold me indefinitely, Captain," the alternate Vash remarked the instant she saw him enter the room.  "I've done nothing illegal in this universe."

 

                "Your being here may be illegal," Picard pointed out calmly.  "Until Starfleet Command reviews the situation and makes a determination, you will be held."

 

                "I demand legal counsel," she said.  "I've been kept here for twenty-four hours, questioned and my property stolen."

 

                "Confiscated," he corrected.  "The transporter is being repaired in anticipation of a decision to send you back to your own universe.  When Starfleet renders their decision you will certainly have the option to appeal but until then, you're being detained pending the outcome of an investigation."

 

                The alternate Vash suddenly became very coy.  "The least you could do is keep me company, Jean-Luc.  It gets very cold and lonely in here."

 

                Picard ignored the salacious invitation.  "We've come up with a way to send you back without sending the device back with you.  If you have any preference as to what time period we send you to--"

 

                "You can't do that!" she interjected.  "I'll be defenseless against--"  Just as suddenly as she'd begun, she broke off and spun away from him.

 

                "Who?" he asked.  "What will you be defenseless against?"

 

                "How's Vash handling this situation?" the alternate Vash abruptly changed the subject.  "The other one, I mean."

 

                Picard stiffened.  "My wife is none of your concern," he snapped.

 

                She began toying with the neckline of her outfit.  "She's still upset about our little tryst, isn't she?  Tell her not to worry, at least when you shout my name during sex, she'll never know the difference."

 

                He started to reply but bit the comment back and turned to leave.

 

                "Admit it, Jean-Luc, a menage a trois would be a truly mind-bending experience, wouldn't it?"

 

.....................

 

                Early that evening in the captain's quarters, Vash made herself comfortable on the couch with a glass of orange juice and several of her latest archaeology journals while waiting for Jean-Luc to get home.  Charcoal, Vash's small, black cat, leapt up to saunter along the back of the couch.  The tiny animal gave a plaintive meow and nudged at the side of her mistress's head for attention.  Vash set aside the journal she was reading as the cat pounced onto her lap.  She gently scratched the cat behind the ears.  "Don't worry, everything's all right.  Mommy loves Daddy far too much to let anything or anyone come between them."  She heard a sharp inhale and glanced up to see Jean-Luc standing across the room having just walked in.  She took in his fatigued and slightly-haggard appearance.  "Damn, you look like hell.  Did I do that to you?"

 

                "Is it safe for me to have this conversation with you?" he replied watching Charcoal stretch and curl up in Vash's lap.  The cat's black fur was a striking contrast to the pink satin of Vash's pajamas.  Seeing her nod, he walked over to wearily sink into the easy chair on her left.  He searched her lovely face and began, "Vash . . ."

 

                Overwhelmed by the naked emotions emanating from his grey eyes, she reached over to lay her left hand across his right.  She knew what he needed to hear her say.  "Je t'aime, Jean-Luc."

 

                "Je t'aime," he vowed softly.  He took her small hand in his, holding onto it like it was a lifeline.  "In the many decades I've spent as a Starfleet officer, I can't remember ever feeling as helpless as I did  listening to you cry last night.  I know you're hurt and angry and I'll understand if you're not ready to forgive me or share our bed with me.  All I'm asking is that you not leave."

 

                "I'm so sorry, Jean-Luc, Deanna warned me not to shut you out and I did it anyway." Vash's eyes flooded with regret at the anguish evident in his voice.  She looked down at Charcoal and admitted softly, "I'm glad you slept here instead of your ready room."

 

                "I wanted to stay in the bedroom and hold you until you stopped fighting me."

 

                She met his gaze,  "So basically fatherhood isn't making any self-preservation instincts kick in anywhere for you, is it?  Reminding me that at least I wasn't forced to watch wasn't your most brilliant Picard Maneuver, Ubercaptain.  Seriously, Johnny, were you trying to get gelded?  And just for the record, I wasn't having erotic dreams about your alternate.  He was sending them to me with the help of a Ferengi thought-maker," she pointed out.

 

                "Noted." Wincing, he glanced down at her hand in his and noticed her wedding ring.  "You were right.  I should have known, should have been able . . ."

 

                "No," she cut him off shaking her head.  "There was no reason for you to even suspect anything was wrong and once I calmed down and stampeding hormones gave way to rational thought, I understood that.  I know from experience that, in this situation, the ability to compare and contrast makes hindsight twenty-twenty.  So, do we know how she got here in the first place?"

 

                He sounded slightly disgusted.  "She uses a time-traveling device to steal priceless, sometimes powerful relics from periods in history and sell them to the highest bidder.  The device malfunctioned when the ship she was transporting herself off of was destroyed."

 

                Knowing that this was an aspect of her chosen profession that irked him, Vash found she couldn't help playing 'poke that button'.  "There have always been private collectors and museums who hire archaeologists to acquire certain pieces.  An excellent example being Sir Hans Sloane who, in the late 1600 and early 1700's, employed anyone traveling abroad to bring back novel items that could be added to his private collection.  His collection of antiquities became the foundation for the British Museum."

 

                "Which to this day is one of the most renowned museums in the Federation.  Yes, Professor, we've already covered this in class," he quipped, grateful to be on comfortable ground with her.

                "Ah, so he does pay attention in class," she cooed impishly to Charcoal.  Returning her attention back to Jean-Luc and the matter at hand, she added, "although, my counterpart has certainly added a new twist on an old theme.  Where might I acquire such temporal transportation?"

 

                "It seems that while acquiring the Tox Uthat on Risa, she tangled with the Vorgons and procured one of their time-traveling devices."

 

                "You mean there's a universe where I actually pulled off my little scheme?" she brightened somewhat at the thought. 

 

                Picard patted her head gently.  "Only because I never went to Risa and outsmarted you--her."

 

                Vash stuck her tongue out at him.  Another thought occurred to her, "the Vorgons activated their devices by tapping the side of their heads.  Oh God," she looked as though she might get sick.  "Okay, as an archaeologist I'm used to dealing with humanoid remains, but they're usually thousands if not millions of years old.  That's very different than dealing with them when they're . . ."

 

                "Fresh, " he finished euphemistically for her.  "Even before Risa her experiences may have been very different than yours.  In her universe, Bajor has been destroyed, the Federation lost the war with the Dominion and to top it all off, Risa is a private hedonists resort specifically for individuals who enjoy bondage and sadomasochism."

 

                "Oh God," Vash reiterated, this time with a tinge of humor in her voice.  Shaking her head at the report of one of their favorite romantic getaway spots, she asked, "please tell me Paris is just Paris."

 

                "I didn't have the courage to ask," he remarked dryly before continuing in a serious voice.  "One of the pieces she admits to acquiring is the Stone of Gol and provoking Arctus Baran as a result.  She claims his death was self-defense."

 

                "Are you saying you believe this woman is capable of murder?"  Vash's eyes went wide with shock.

 

                He shook his head.  "I'm not sure I'm ready make that leap; both incidents could have been legitimate cases of self-defense.  The Vorgons did fire an energy weapon at you and Baran was a very dangerous man."

 

                Placing the cat on the couch, Vash stood up and paced across the room. "Captain, you're allowing your personal feelings to cloud your judgment."

 

                "I have no personal feelings for this woman," he stiffened visibly.

 

                She spun to face him, crossing her arms across her chest.  "Of course you do; remember, I've already walked a kilometer in your shoes and when I was ready to be completely honest with myself, around four this morning, I realized that was why I was so jealous and angry.  I know when you look at her you see my face, my eyes, and when she speaks you hear my voice . . ."

                "Vash," he cut her off not wanting her to continue with that train of thought.

 

                Her voice became even more determined.  "There has always been an intense sexual attraction between us, a purely physical aspect to our relationship.  She knows that now, too.  Make no mistake, if given the chance she will use it."

 

                "Your point?" he asked standing up to face her.  He found himself unnerved by how precisely she had ascertained the tactics being employed against him by her alternate.

 

                "You never allowed your alternate to come between us in the past and I won't allow this woman to come between us now."  She closed the distance between them.  Stopping to stand directly in front of him, she tenderly took his face in her hands and stared directly into his eyes.  "She can't have you."

 

                Picard acquiesced completely to Vash when she crushed the lush, fullness of her lips against his own in a passionately possessive kiss.  Her arms encircled his neck while her supple curves pressed against him.  Wrapping both arms tightly around her tiny waist, he followed her lead but resisted the urge to take any initiative for fear that he might break the spell somehow.  Her tongue stole between his parted lips to plunder the depths of his mouth, searching for his tongue and coaxing it out of hiding.  His tongue responded, dancing with hers in a sensual tango.  He lost himself in the sweet taste of her kiss and the delicate scent of her perfume.  Reluctantly, he broke the kiss, dropping his forehead to rest on the top of her head.  A knot formed in his throat.  He had been shaken to the core by the thought of facing a life without her standing at his side.

 

                "To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or worse.  Well, we've certainly had better days and I'm sure we'll have worse.  We've always made a wonderful team and as long as we remember that we'll be okay," Vash said softly against Picard's chest, tightening her arms around him.  She felt rather than heard the long, ragged breath he let out.  They stood there for several moments before she pulled back to look up at him coquettishly through her lashes.  "Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?"

 

                Picard found himself captivated by her bedroom eyes, pools of liquid blue gazing up at him through thick lashes.  His voice was choked with emotion, "ma petite, are you sure?"

 

                "I want you, Jean-Luc," Vash whispered resolutely.  She stood up on tiptoe and leaned in to nibble at his lips with brief, feather-like kisses.  She punctuated each one of her next words with a teasing nip.  "Make love to me."

 

                "Vash," he groaned and his lips seized hers, his tongue delving into the depths of her mouth for a desperately impassioned kiss.  Moving to span her tiny waist, his hands slipped beneath her pajama top, slowly sliding up the smooth bare skin of her stomach to rest just below the full curves of her breasts.

 

                Wanting more, Vash deepened the kiss, her tongue challenging and stroking his within the moist warmth of her mouth.  She quivered from the stirring heat of his powerful hands, the erotic expectation causing her pulse to quicken.  Her breasts swelled, urging him to caress them, and the peaks stiffened to attention, demanding in their need.  His thumbs brushed over the sensitive crests, sending shivers of excitement racing through her entire body.  When they finally broke the kiss, they were both breathing unevenly.  She braced her hands on his chest and gently pushed herself away from him.  Clasping both of his hands in hers, she led him toward their bedroom.  She stopped at the foot of the bed and released her hold on Jean-Luc's hands.  Resting her hands briefly on the muscular slopes of his broad shoulders, she moistened her lips before she slid one hand down to trace leisurely circles around the rank pips on his burgundy uniform tunic.

 

                He was barely breathing as she slowly trailed her small hands down the front of his jacket, unfastening each and every clasp in turn.  Light glistened off her silky curtain of hair, shimmering with each movement of her head.  He stared down at her, completely transfixed by the sensual sight of her slender, feminine fingers deftly working the fasteners.

 

                Opening the jacket as she went, Vash's small hands slipped inside and traveled up to push it off his shoulders and peeling it away to drop on the floor.  Undoing the fasteners of his burgundy tunic, she pulled it down his arms to join his jacket.  Her hands lingered on the solid, bulging biceps of his upper arms, the tender strength they represented heightening her desire.  She slid her hands down the tapering lines of his body to the waistband of his trousers tugging at his T-shirt and pulling it free of his waistband.  Her hands skimmed over the sculpted muscles of his chest as she pushed the thin cloth out of her way until he finally pulled it off over his head.  With Jean-Luc stripped to the waist, Vash's eyes drank in the well-defined muscles of his chest, shoulders and arms.  She stroked and caressed his skin, just marveling at the tightly-leashed power contained in his lean, muscular body.

 

                Throbbing painfully, Picard's body was screaming for her, frustrated at the leisurely, tormenting pace that she had set.  He fought to keep his burgeoning passions in check in order to allow Vash to continue to set the pace of this encounter.  At the forefront of his mind was also her condition, for the first time since he'd met her, she seemed to be a fragile, china doll.  He closed his eyes and concentrated on the feeling of her small hands massaging the muscles of his chest moving down towards his abdomen.

 

                Her hands roamed over the firm planes of his torso down to the waistband of his trousers, the taut muscles of his stomach contracting beneath her touch.  Deftly, she opened his trousers and grasped him taking up a familiar rhythm.  God, he was so hot and hard, pulsating in her hands.  Sinking to her knees, she moved back slightly and held him steady.  She began at the tip, nibbling and licking along the throbbing ridge and back again before completely enveloping him with her mouth.  She could hear him moan her name in the background as he wound his hands in her hair.  Her tongue flicked at him as she began moving him in and out of her mouth.  She kept up a demanding tempo, reaching up to lightly trace designs on the plane of his abdomen with her fingernails.  It was easy to tell when he was enjoying himself, she could hear him inhale sharply and mutter incoherently in English and French.

 

                With each passing moment, her tantalizing ministrations pushed at the very limits of his self-control.  His body shuddered violently and he pulled her away with a half-pleading, half-warning gasp, "S`il vous--" he broke off and drew her to her feet.  He lifted her into his arms and laid her gently on the bed whispering, "Vash, please."

 

                Vash's breath caught in her throat at the intensity of his smoldering steel grey eyes which never left her face while he quickly stripped off his boots and trousers.  Anticipation alone was enough to cause butterflies in her stomach when he finally knelt on the bed next to her.  Her eyes drifted shut as he lowered his face to hers, his lips brushing the very tip of her nose and each eyelid in turn before nuzzling her cheeks, his warm breath tickling her skin. The clean, masculine scent of his aftershave enveloped her, a safe and familiar smell.  His mouth finally claimed hers for a long, slow, passionate kiss.  A surge of arousal washed over her from the coarse rasp of his tongue along the sensitive depths and the fluttering hardened into a tight knot of desire in her stomach.  It was her turn to inhale sharply when his mouth released hers to nibble down along her neck finding the pulse point just below her ear.  Her head rolled back to bare her throat to his hot, questing mouth.  The swift, teasing flicks of his tongue against the vulnerable spot sent shock waves over her body her nipples becoming so hard they ached.

 

                Studiously, Picard began deftly unbuttoning her nightshirt.  He felt her body tremble under his hands cradling her bare breasts, the hardened peaks pressed against his palms.  This beautiful, irrepressible, impish woman was his life and brought him pleasure and enjoyment beyond measure.  Languidly, his mouth made its way down the silken expanse of her skin toward the full curves of her breasts.  He lovingly explored every dip and curve with his lips and tongue in an effort to express the depths of his feelings for her.  He traced the swell of her breasts with his tongue before placing an open mouth kiss at the center of her cleavage.  His lips imprisoned the nipple of one of her breasts and he leisurely swirled his tongue over the taut peak.  He nipped at the hardened crest slightly before suckling strongly.

 

                The ardently attentive ministrations of his strong hands, warm lips and tongue had Vash feeling utterly adored and cherished.  She arched into the heaviness, the sharp ache growing as he suckled first one breast, then the other.  The heat from his tongue along with the pull of his mouth and the occasional scrape of his teeth soon had her throbbing with need.  One large hand slid down her taut midriff, the heat from his skin sparking against her own.  Slipping beneath her satin pajama pants, his fingers combed through the dark curls before traveling even lower.  His long fingers were moving against her, inside her, caressing her damp, tingling flesh until her entire body was liquid flames.  Her hips began rocking against his hand while his fingers slid in and out of her with his thumb stroking her in a deceptively casual pace; her body pulsed uncontrollably in response to the lingering, slow pressure of his fingers.  The fire built slowly, emotion and desire commingling into an incredibly overwhelming pleasure.

 

                The look on her delicate features drove his own desire up another notch.  The wet heat of her body tightly clenching against his fingers and her frenzied movements told him she was ready.  His hand left her to quickly slide her pajama pants down the length of her legs dropping them to the floor next to the bed. Everything else was forgotten, this time was about the two of them and what they shared.  With his arms braced on either side of her shoulders, he stretched himself out to cover her body with his own and looked down the length of their bodies.  Vash was clad only in her silky, pink nightshirt draped open to expose the full curves of her breasts with the creamy skin tipped by rosy peaks.  The lush curves rose and fell as she tried to catch her breath.  His ardent gaze continued down her slim waist, past the feminine curve of her hips to those long, shapely legs.  He dropped a leg between her soft, creamy thighs and she shifted her legs wordlessly inviting him closer to the culmination they both craved.  Gently settling himself between her thighs, he murmured, "Je t' aime, ma chere."

 

                Vash moaned with pleasure when he entered her with a long, slow stroke filling her completely.  He began a deliberate, methodical rhythm, pulling out almost entirely before sliding his hard length deep inside her with strong, even strokes.  Her hands clutched at his tightly sculpted arms, anchoring herself, the corded muscles rippling beneath her fingertips.  She surrendered utterly to the strength and sheer virility of his masculine presence.  The heat and fullness of each thrust stoked and inflamed the explosive force mounting inside her.  She arched helplessly into his movements, trying to quicken the pace.  The long strokes brought delicious sensations, but the leisurely tempo was tormenting her.  The pressure continued to build and she reached for it twisting her hips up to meet each powerful thrust.

 

                Picard could sense her impatience the supple curves of her body instinctively molding to his.  He gradually increased the rhythm, ever mindful of the pregnancy, and she matched his movements.  With a thin sheen of perspiration covering his body, he struggled for control against the extraordinary pleasure engulfing him as her body moved in perfect synchronization with his own.  The slick depths of her body were so hot and tight, gripping him with each thrust, frantically clutching at him in unbridled passion.  Her uninhibited response taxed his restraint, but the urge to cherish everything about her overrode the urge to drive into her hard and fast.  Vash bucked strongly beneath him, her head falling back and her small hands digging into the muscles of his biceps as she orgasmed.  He didn't want this exquisite pleasure to ever end, but feeling her body clamp spasmodically around him threatened to undo him.  It was hearing his name on her lips in a sweet cry of ecstasy that shattered his control.  He held himself buried inside her and allowed his own climax to consume him.  Still braced on his arms hovering over Vash, he gazed down at her and tried to catch his breath while the last few tremors of pleasure washed over him.  When her lashes fluttered open, he lost himself in her vivid blue eyes, "I can't imagine a life without you.  I love you and I would willingly give my life for you."

 

                Relishing the feel of Jean-Luc's strong damp biceps beneath her hands, she knew she never wanted to be without the love and protection those powerful arms offered her.  Basking in the adoration of a devoted husband, she told him earnestly, "I've never doubted your love for me and I never had the slightest intention of leaving your side.  Like I said earlier, we make a wonderful team."

 

                He placed a brief kiss on the tip of her nose and rolled off to lie on his side next to her, propping himself up on one elbow.  Looking down, he reverently splayed his hand over her lower abdomen and quietly marveled, "I'm in awe and find it absolutely wondrous that right now our baby is growing inside you."

 

                She tenderly placed her hand over his and smiled at him.  "You're really excited about having this baby, aren't you?"

 

                He smiled back at her.  "Yes."

 

                "A handsome son to carry on the Picard family name and one day command a Federation starship just like his father," she teased playfully while reaching up trace his strong jawline with her fingertips.

 

                "Actually, I was envisioning a little girl as mischievous and as beautiful as her mother who one day may become a brilliant archaeologist," he bantered back in his most chivalrous voice, his hand still lightly resting on her stomach.

 

                "Jean-Luc."

 

                Picard instantly recognized the wifely 'I want something' tone in her voice. "Yes?"

 

                "A big glass of orange juice over crushed ice," she informed him, making huge doe-eyes at him before adding a belated, "please."

 

                Standing up, he noticed the ship chronometer. "Orange juice at this time of night?"

 

                "Junior and I have this whole fruity-citrus-craving thing going," she replied maternally caressing her stomach.

 

                "Orange juice it is then," he chuckled heading out to the replicator.

 

......................

 

                Several days later, Picard sat at the breakfast table watching Vash pick at a slice of dry toast.  He set down his croissant and reached over to stroke the silky hair on the back of her head.  "Morning sickness, ma petite?"

 

                "That is a horribly, sadistic misnomer.  It should be called 'somewhere-between-queasy-to-downright-nauseous-all-day-long' sickness," she complained pushing away the plate of toast.

 

                "Have you talked to Beverly?" he asked picking up his cup of tea.

 

                "Beverly and Alyssa were less than sympathetic, in fact they were downright gleeful.  To quote the good doctor, 'Yes! We want you good and sick, the more nauseous the better.'  Apparently it is an indication that the hormones are at proper levels for this point in the pregnancy."  Vash leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms.

 

                Carefully hiding a smile between sips of tea, he inquired, "did they offer any advice for how to deal with it?"

 

                "Just to try toast or saltine crackers to settle my stomach and snack throughout the day instead of large meals," she sighed not sounding optimistic about the approach.  She brushed a stray crumb off her khaki work pants.  There was another matter she wanted to discuss with him.  A subject they had both scrupulously avoided.  "It's been almost a week, Jean-Luc.  When are you planning to get rid of 'her'?"

 

                Picard fidgeted in his chair and adjusted his uniform jacket.  He took a deep breath and explained, "I'm still waiting for my orders on that particular subject.  There seems to be some debate at Starfleet Command about exactly what should be done."

 

                She realized that Jean-Luc was caught between the proverbial rock and a hard place.  Wanting to reassure him, she was intentionally flippant.  "Now, Mon Capitaine, you're not entertaining salacious thoughts of starting your own harem of Vashes."

 

                "Even I can't handle that much trouble," he chuckled standing up and taking Vash's hands in his to gently pull her up into his arms.  "One Vash is enough for me."

 

                "Are you sure about that," her last word turned into a surprised squeal and her arms encircled his neck when he effortlessly swept her up into his powerful arms.  He carried her several steps to casually flop down to sit in the easy chair by the sofa, settling her on his lap.

 

                "I have everything I could possibly want right here," he declared in a rich baritone while staring directly into her vivid blue eyes.

 

                "You silver-tongued devil," she cooed running her fingers through with the fringe of neatly trimmed hair on the back of his head.  Ready to go on duty, Jean-Luc looked every inch the legendary starship captain he was reputed to be.  Nestled in his lap with her body snug against the solid anchor of his masculine form, she found herself unable to resist temptation and claimed his lips with hers in a passionately-heated kiss.

 

                "Sickbay to Captain Picard," Beverly Crusher's voiced sounded over the comm and Picard broke off the kiss.

 

                "Picard, here, go ahead, Doctor," as he spoke, Picard discreetly signaled Vash by silently patting her twice with the hand he had on her hip.  She slid gracefully out of his lap to stand next to the chair.

 

                "Captain, I need to see you in sickbay."

 

                "Acknowledged,  I'm on my way."  Standing up, he leaned in giving Vash an apologetic kiss her on the cheek.

 

                "Duty calls," she responded softly with an indulgent smile. "Je t' aime."

 

                "Je t' aime," he echoed back before turning to head out the door.

 

....................

 

                "What is it, Doctor?" Picard asked several minutes later as he entered her office.

 

                Beverly slid a PADD across her desk to him.  "Vash is pregnant."

 

                "We've already had this conversation," he pointed out.  "I know--"

 

                "The other one," she interrupted him.  "The most recent medical scans of the alternate Vash revealed an early-stage pregnancy.  Conception occurred less than a week ago."

 

                Picard felt nauseous, Murphy's Law had never seemed so sadistic as it did right then.  "Is there any chance that she . . . "

 

                Beverly shook her head in response to his unspoken question.  "She wasn't pregnant when I scanned her initially and genetic analysis confirmed that it's yours.  What do you want me to do?"

 

                That was a loaded question; there were many things he wanted at the moment, most of which involved inflicting great bodily harm on that woman for creating this situation to start with.  "Regardless of the circumstances, Doctor, I don't have the right to make any decision along those lines."

 

                "Jean-Luc," she said quietly, rising from her desk to walk over to him.

 

                "I'll ask that you keep this quiet until I've had a chance to tell my Vash," he continued.

 

                "Of course."

 

                "In the meantime," he sighed, "I apparently need to have another talk with our visitor."

 

                Leaving Sickbay, he stopped by Ten Forward.  Guinan wasn't there so he took a glass of Aldebaran whiskey and sat near the window.  He drained half the glass in one gulp and looked out into the vast blackness as it burned its way down his throat.  He finally had everything he wanted with his Vash and their child yet somehow it had become ugly and twisted with this other Vash and that pregnancy.  How could he want one baby more than anything and simultaneously want another baby--also his--to just disappear?  That wasn't exactly right, he wanted the other Vash to disappear, but the other baby was his and he had a responsibility as well as a connection toward it.  He couldn't keep one without the other, yet keeping the alternate Vash around, if even only for the sake of their child, might cost him his own Vash and their child.  His Vash had forgiven him and accepted what had happened but would she--could she--accept this?

 

                He set the now-empty glass on the table and rose to leave, silently acknowledging that he'd just handed this alternate an extremely potent trump card, which she'd undoubtedly use to her advantage.  At least that made it unlikely that she would terminate the pregnancy; she wouldn't give up a hole card like that for any reason, she'd exploit it for all she could.

 

....................

 

                "Well," the alternate Vash drawled, not rising from her cross-legged position on the bunk.  "Come to wish me bon voyage?"

 

                Picard motioned for the security guard to leave before crossing over to stand directly in front of her.  "Doctor Crusher found something in her scan this morning."

 

                "I'm not going to make your life simple by dropping dead or spontaneously combusting from some sort of alternate universe incompatibility," she chortled.  "You can't believe I'd be so obliging."

 

                "You're pregnant," he said sharply.

 

                The alternate Vash shot him a suspicious look, her hand moving to her abdomen.  "What are you up to?  I can't possibly be pregnant, I haven't had . . . "

 

                "That's right," Picard commented with a barely-restrained sneer.  "You apparently conceived as a result of --"

 

                "Our mattress mambo!" she crowed with unholy glee.  "Oh, Jean-Luc, this is just too perfect for words."

 

                "How so?" he asked, that sick feeling back in full force.

 

                "You can't send me back without my transporter now," she cooed with a big grin.

 

                Picard adjusted his uniform.  "I can do whatever Starfleet orders me to do."

 

                "But you would be depriving me of any ability to care for your child," she argued, "unless you were planning to return with me.  The little ball-and-chain not being understanding about us yet?"

 

                "There is no us and no, I'm staying here with my wife where I belong."

 

                "What about your child?" she threw at him.  "You can't send me away without providing for your baby or do you have a woman in every port and illegitimate kids running all over the galaxy?"

 

                "No," he answered.  "I am fully aware of my responsibility in this; however, my options in this matter are limited.  Starfleet will determine how this matter will be handled."

 

                "But how they tell you to handle it doesn't have to be how you handle it," she suggested casually.  "You could always tuck me away in a nice home somewhere.  Your wife wouldn't have to know nor would your Starfleet and you could visit your child as often as you wanted.  You'd still have the transporter and I would be out of sight so nobody would even question you when you said that you'd sent me back."

 

                "That suggestion isn't even worth commenting on," he replied evenly. 

 

                She tried again.  "You could request a special dispensation for me because of your child.  My earlier offer does still stand, I can tell you where to find some pretty nifty trinkets."

 

                "And when the baby is born, I can petition for full custody and ship you back to your own universe anyway," Picard noted.

 

                The alternate Vash waggled her finger at him.  "For shame, Captain, you're trying to pull a little bluff on me.  We both know that your sense of honor wouldn't let you do that to me; for that matter, we both know that your sense of honor won't let me get hung out to dry as long as I'm carrying your progeny.  Have you contacted Starfleet yet about the change in circumstances?"

 

                Without replying, he turned and walked out of the room.

 

....................

 

                That evening in the Captain's quarters, Picard sat at his desk and waited for his wife.  He stared down at the ship's system report on the PADD in his hands, but he wasn't seeing it.  His thoughts swirled aimlessly, wondering how in the hell was he going to tell his Vash about her alternate's condition.  His head snapped up when he heard the door open and she walked in.

 

                Vash made her way over to the replicator.  "Cranberry juice over crushed ice."

 

                Noticing the simple khaki jumpsuit she was wearing, he asked, "Did you have a busy day in the lab?"

 

                "No, not really, I was just doing some routine revisions on a journal article."  She took a drink of her juice.  "How was your day?"

 

                Deciding there was no reason to put off the inevitable, Picard stood up and tugged on his uniform jacket.  "There has been a significant development with your alternate that seriously complicates matters."

 

                "Don't tell me, she's pregnant," Vash muttered her idea of the worst case scenario.  His silence and carefully guarded expression only served to confirm what she desperately wanted him to deny.  "Tell me she isn't pregnant."

 

                "Vash," his voice faltered.

 

                "Dammit, Jean-Luc!  Tell me she isn't pregnant!"

 

                "I am so very sorry.  She became pregnant as a result of our . . ." he was cut off when her glass impacted on the far wall in a thunderous explosion of glass shards and juice.

 

                "No, dammit to hell!  This can't be happening, son of a bitch!" Vash exploded in uncontrolled rage.

 

                She must not have found Federation standard sufficient.  She began hurling multiple vulgarities and obscenities at earsplitting decibels in different languages including French, German, Italian, Klingonese, Ferengi and numerous dialects Picard didn't even recognize.  When the caustic barrage finally ended, she was standing half way across the room with her back to him her entire body visibly shaking with emotion.  Walking over to stand directly behind her, he rested his hands on her shoulders and quietly pleaded, "Please, Vash.  This isn't good for you or our baby."

 

                She nodded releasing a long shaky breath.  When he wrapped his arms around her she leaned back against him allowing herself to be calmed and soothed by the tender strength of his embrace.   

 

                He drew in a deep breath savoring the sweet scent that always lingered in her silky, brunette hair. "I know you're angry with me . . ."

 

                "No," Vash cut him off.  Covering his arms with her own, her voice was quiet but adamant, "we could both could spend the rest of our lives throwing accusations at each other and blaming each other for what happened with our respective alternates.  We would both be right, but it would destroy our marriage and we would lose everything we have.  I don't like to lose and I certainly don't intend to lose you."

 

                He gently turned her to face him.  Cupping her cheek with his palm, he slipped his thumb under her chin to bring her gaze up to his, "You will never lose me, Vash.  Nothing could ever change my love for you or our baby."

 

                She placed a tender kiss on the palm of his hand.  Getting back to the subject at hand, she asked, "knowing my alternate is pregnant, what do you intend to do?"

 

                "At this point, my options are very limited on that matter.  Decisions made by Starfleet Command and your alternate will determine my next actions to a large extent," he sighed with defeat.

 

                "What do you want?" she searched his face.

 

                "What I want may be irrelevant," he told her.

 

                "Not to me," she reminded him as she took both of his hands in hers and led him over to sit on the couch.

 

                He sat down facing her.  "Due to the dangers inherent with contamination of the timeline or the existence of a potentially unstable quantum fissure, Starfleet Command thoroughly investigates any possible threat posed by a crossover such as this.  However, command could very well decide that your alternate's appearance here was completely inadvertent, ordering me to return her property and send her back to her own little universe.  Until this morning's little bombshell, I was actually hoping Command would order me to do just that."

 

                "Have you told Command about her pregnancy?"

 

                He shook his head, "no, not yet and I'm not relishing the idea of explaining it either."

 

                "You didn't tell them you had sex with her," she observed, her voice tightening slightly.

 

                Picard allowed her the brief flash of emotion; after all, she had been through a great deal over the last few days and all of it while her body was adjusting to the bombardment of hormones from the pregnancy.  Holding her small hands in his, he kept his tone gentle, "I knew how hurt you would be having certain details in the official records and I couldn't bear to hurt you anymore than I already had.  In my report I only referred to a short period of mistaken identity and left it at that.  I will continue to do my best to keep the specifics of this situation as private as possible."

 

                "Talk about literally making discretion the better part of valor.  Thank you, Jean-Luc.  I do appreciate it," she replied, pacified by the tender concern reflected in his eyes.  "Does my alternate know about her condition?"

 

                "Yes, I told her myself."

 

                "Oh, I'll bet that was a fun conversation," Vash commented with a sarcastic roll of her eyes while leaning back against the couch.

 

                "She immediately began haggling, attempting to procure concessions from me by using the pregnancy for emotional blackmail."  He stood up and paced across the room fighting to rein in the turbulent emotions the alternate Vash had provoked in him during that last confrontation.  "With or without her transporter device, she will most likely be sent back to where she came from.  I would never even see this part of me, let alone be able to be any kind of a father for the child.  Once back in her own universe, she could terminate the pregnancy or sell the baby to the highest bidder and I would never know."

 

                Vash could hear the pain, anger, and self-reproach in his voice.  He had been so overjoyed at the news of her own pregnancy, elated by the idea of fatherhood.  She hated the dreadful quandary her alternate's actions had put him in, she could only imagine how agonizing it must be for him to have this part of himself being 'held hostage'.  Suddenly, her own suffering paled in the wake of the enormity of his.  She tried to blink back the tears stinging her eyes, crossing the room to hold him.  "Oh, Jean-Luc, I'm so sorry."

 

                He tenderly kissed a tear from her cheek, his voice low and poignant, "shhh, this isn't what I want for you or for us.  When I first found out you were pregnant, I had planned to spend the next nine months treating you like a queen, pampering and spoiling you like never before; indulging your every whim."

 

                "And that would differ from my life with you so far, how?" she managed a small tremulous smile.

 

                He gently stroked the smooth skin of her cheek.  "You deserve so much more.  Right now, you should be the center of attention.  I want you to focus on your own pregnancy and enjoy the anticipation of having a new baby on the way.  The other situation is my problem to deal with."

 

                She leaned into his caress.  "Your life is my life, you must know that by now.  What's yours is mine, remember?  I'm a strong woman, Jean-Luc, you don't have to shield me from any of this, you can share it with me."

 

                "Vash . . ."

 

                "Mon Capitaine, is any of this going to be solved tonight?" she cut him off.  Seeing him shake his head no, she took his hand and pulled him toward the bedroom.  "I'll make you a deal, for the rest of the night we both focus on enjoying the anticipation of having a new baby on the way and starting tomorrow anything that needs to be faced, we face together."

 

                Wordlessly, Picard picked her up and carried her to the bed.  Laying her down, he briefly allowed her to draw his face down for a long, passionate kiss.  When he felt her hands opening the fastenings of his uniform, he stopped her.  He shifted to lay beside her and settled her against him, snuggling close.  "I just want to hold you," he murmured softly.

 

....................................................

 

                Vash stood in front of the forcefield, facing the alternate version of herself for the first time since that initial encounter.  She wasn't even sure why she was there or when she had even decided to confront her evil twin.  Jean-Luc had just held her all night, one hand cradled protectively over her stomach and the other endlessly stroking her hair.  At one point she thought she felt some moisture on her head and peeked up to see wetness streaking silently down his cheeks.  Castigating herself for her part in the emotional torture that Jean-Luc had been enduring wasn't sufficient, so here she was about to castigate her other self for awhile. 

 

                "I look a little soft in this universe," the alternate Vash remarked after they had stared at each other for several moments.

 

                Vash arched an eyebrow.  "And I was just thinking that I look a lot old in your universe."

 

                "Jean-Luc is quite a man, just the way we like them," the alternate purred, stretching seductively to punctuate her innuendo.  "He obviously keeps you in style judging by your jewelry.  I intend to catch up on everything I've missed out on now that Johnny boy is honor-bound to provide for me and our little bundle of lust.  At the very least, I can rest assured that he won't send me back to my universe without the means to care for his genetic deposit."

 

                "Go back to your own universe and track down your Jean-Luc," Vash suggested.  "Seduce him and let him take care of the baby, just leave my Jean-Luc alone."

 

                "And lie to him?" the alternate replied in mock horror.

 

                Vash sneered.  "Don't be such a cloying bitch; we both know you've done worse."

 

                "You have a point," the alternate shrugged, idly examining her fingernails.

 

                "This reality isn't big enough for both of us," Vash said.

 

                The alternate caressed her stomach.  "But I can offer him a child."

 

                "So can I," Vash retorted.  "In fact, I conceived a good couple of weeks before you did.  Besides, you don't really want that baby, you're just using it to manipulate Jean-Luc."

 

                "So what?" the alternate challenged.  "I look out for myself, maybe you don't remember what that was like.  I don't have a sugar daddy taking care of me, honey."

 

                Vash bit down on her frustration.  Obviously going toe-to-toe with herself was getting her nowhere.  "Do you know what this is doing to Jean-Luc?  Do you even care how much this haunts him and will haunt him for the rest of his life?"

 

                "No."

 

                "He was so excited about becoming a father and now you're turning it into this twisted, sick perversion.  Jean-Luc feels responsible for your pregnancy even though you're apparently too stupid to comprehend something as simple as contraception, you manipulated him and now he doesn't want to send you back because he won't be able to take care of the baby in another reality."

 

                The alternate threw her arms out.  "You think I wanted this?  I want to get back to my normal life in my own universe and this little inconvenience doesn't fit into those plans.  By the way, I understand the concept of contraception, I just usually use it prophylactically only when necessary.  Your Jean-Luc forced this condition on me when he prevented me from taking anything."

 

                "You don't have to keep it," Vash suggested.

 

                "Oh, I beg to differ," the alternate laughed.  "This fetal tissue may well be the most valuable acquisition of my career.  If I do get sent home without my transporter, I can always use it as leverage against a certain Starfleet captain and if I can't go home, I know I'll have a very comfortable life here thanks to our Jean-Luc.  No penal colonies for me, no where, no when, no how.  If I somehow manage to get back to my normal life as it was--with my transporter, I can always get rid of this thing later."  She paused thoughtfully, "it might even have some monetary value to individuals back in my universe.  It's certainly worth exploring if the opportunity arises."

 

                Vash recoiled in horror at the things coming out of a mirror image of her own face.  "What kind of mother could you possibly be?"

 

                "The kind with a nanny to care for the little brat."

 

                "I can't believe that we were ever the same person," Vash said.  "What happened to you to make you such a bitch?  Never mind, I don't care.  This is all just a waste of time anyway, you obviously have no feelings for anyone or anything beyond profit.  You can't possibly understand emotional pain and suffering much less care how sadistically you're inflicting it using a helpless little baby as a weapon.  You disgust me and I can't wait until you're no longer polluting this universe with your mere presence."

 

.............................

 

                In her office that afternoon, Vash forced her thoughts back to the results of an artifact analysis that she'd been staring at for the better part of an hour.  Her hand absently covered her abdomen as she recalled her encounter with her other self.  How could she ever have been so completely self-centered?  Did the differences in their respective universes account for the difference between them or was her chance encounter with Jean-Luc on Risa that significant to her personality?  Suddenly her mind was filled with horrifying 'what if's'.  What if she was a horrible mother?  What if she made a mistake and their child turned into someone like her alternate?  The genetic predisposition was there, she couldn't very well deny that when faced with what might have been if not for circumstance and the precious gift of Jean-Luc's love.

 

                Lost in her worries, she never heard the phaser shots being fired in the lab beyond her office.  She was startled when someone barged into her office and looked up to see that mirror image of herself pointing a phaser at her.

 

                "Like you said," the other Vash drawled, shrugging her shoulders.  "This reality isn't big enough for the both of us."

 

                Before Vash could reach her communicator, the phaser fired and everything went black.

 

.............................

 

                Picard winced and softly swore at the hot tea splashing over his hand when the red alert klaxon went off abruptly and startled him.  Quickly wiping the moisture from his hand, he strode out onto the bridge.  "Report."

 

                Worf was ready with a preliminary report.  "Sensors detected weapons fire in the archaeology lab."  A light flashed on his console, "energy signature detected, someone just activated a transporter."

 

                "Picard to Vash," he said, slapping his communicator. 

 

                When no answer came, Worf's fingers danced across the screen.  "Councilmember Vash is in the archaeology lab."  Worf paused, "There is an unidentified life sign in the archaeology lab as well.  No response from the officer on duty in the brig, it appears that our prisoner has escaped."

 

                Riker vaulted over the railing to look at the sensor readings.  "How did she get out of the brig?"

 

                "Unknown," Worf growled.  "Dispatching medical team to the brig; security teams already responding to archaeology."

 

                The computer chirped to signal an intra-ship communication which Worf put on speaker.  "Bridge."

 

                "Lar reporting," came Geoffrey's voice.  "We have five crewmembers down but alive; they were hit with a phaser on stun setting.  Councilmember Vash is not here, her communicator was on the floor of her office."

 

                "Mr. Worf," Picard was on his way to the turbolift.

 

                "Unable to locate Vash," Worf reported.  "Attempting to track transporter signal.  Engineering reports that the Vorgon device just de-materialized."

 

                Picard stayed where he was; it wouldn't help for him to go off searching the ship for Vash, he could do more from the bridge.  He activated a science station.  "Mr. Data."

 

                Data turned his station over to a nearby ensign and quickly joined Picard who was already studying the transporter signature.

 

                "There are transporter signatures bouncing all over the system," Picard showed him.  "Can you identify the actual transport coordinates?"

 

                Data's fingers were a blur, information flashing on the screen faster than the human eye could see.  "Those are not phantom signatures, every transporter onboard the Enterprise completed three transport cycles apiece.  Operations crews will need to review pattern buffer logs at each transport console to determine which transport was the one we are attempting to track."

 

                "Make it so," Picard ordered Riker who was already heading toward the nearest computer console to relay the orders.

 

                A warning light flashed on Worf's station.  "Captain, energy signature detected in Holodeck Three consistent with the Vorgon device."

 

                Picard was instantly moving.  "Number One, have Dr. Crusher meet us at Holodeck Three; Mr. Data, Mr. Worf, with me."

 

                Minutes later, Worf overrode the lock and opened the holodeck door.  Data cautiously held out a tricorder to scan for life signs.

 

                "One life sign," Data reported as he closed the tricorder and palmed his phaser.

 

                Picard was the first to enter, scanning the room and hoping against hope that the one life sign was the right one.  The holodeck was running a simulation of Sickbay and the Emergency Medical Hologram was attending to someone on a biobed.

 

                "Computer," Beverly spoke up.  "De-activate the EMH."  She rushed to the biobed, one step behind Picard, and scanned the unconscious Vash lying there.

 

                "Captain," Data said.  "The EMH program has been altered and the protocol that Geordi and I developed to send the alternate back to her universe has been activated from this holodeck."

 

                Picard never took his eyes off Vash.  "Altered how?"

 

                "It appears that the ethical sub-routines have been disabled."

 

                Beverly gave an incongruous sigh of relief.

 

                "Doctor?" Picard asked.

 

                "It's our Vash," she replied.  "The quantum signature matches ours."

 

                Picard took Vash's hand in his and allowed himself a brief moment of relief before voicing his last concern.  "Is there any way the EMH could have altered--"

 

                "No, sir," Data supplied.  "There is no method for altering a quantum signature."

 

                "Then why kidnap Vash?" Picard asked.  "Why not just get the Vorgon device and leave?  What about the baby?"

 

                Beverly took a deep breath before answering.  "I've run the scan twice, Jean-Luc, there are now two fetal bio-signatures in Vash's uterus."

 

                Moaning softly, Vash began to stir.  She opened her eyes to find herself in Sickbay with Beverly and Jean-Luc hovering over her.  Her hands instinctively covered her stomach.  "My baby?"

 

                "Fine, you and your baby are both fine; in fact, your baby seems to be entertaining a guest," Beverly said.  "We just found you, unconscious, in a holodeck simulation of Sickbay and you've somehow acquired a second fetus.  I'm showing a slight differential in the quantum signature of the second fetus."

 

                Crusher's words sent a shiver down Vash's spine.  "The other Vash," she murmured.

 

                "Does it pose any threat to Vash or her pregnancy?" Picard asked.

 

                Beverly shook her head, "No, not at all.  What do you want to do?"

 

                "Leave it," Vash said sitting up.  She saw Beverly shoot a quick glance at Picard.  She met his gaze.  "The other Vash risked capture to leave her baby behind; it's probably the first and only completely selfless act that my other self has ever performed.  It's as much a part of you as ours is, Jean-Luc, and since it was conceived in another me, genetically it is also yours and mine."

 

                Picard tenderly combed his fingers through her hair.  "Are you sure?"

 

                Vash captured his hand and kissed his palm before cradling her face against it.  "Yes, together we can give both of our children the very best life that any child could hope for."

 

                The stress of the past week dissipated so quickly that Picard was momentarily dizzy.  Somehow the escape of the alternate and the theft of the Vorgon device was irrelevant in comparison to his whole world being complete and perfect once again.  "Will the difference between conception times be a problem, Doctor?"

 

                "No," Beverly answered.  "I'll closely monitor the progress of the other fetus, but I don't anticipate any complications."

 

                Vash winced.  "Could you stop referring to it as 'the other fetus'?  They're not his and hers, they're ours now.  I'll grant you that this is an unusual way to have twins, I just don't want the circumstances to diminish the value of either baby.  I don't want the transplanted baby to go through life feeling like a mistake."

 

                Picard drew Vash against his chest and held her tight.  He kissed the top of her silky hair and whispered, "I love you, ma petite.  Our children couldn't ask for a better mother."

 

                "If you wanted to know the gender of the babies," Beverly suggested.  "We could simply refer to them by name."

 

                Vash peeked up into Picard's face.

 

                "I know," he grinned back at her.  "For the same reason you read the end of a book first, instant gratification takes too long; you want to know now."

 

                Getting a confirming nod from both of them, Beverly smiled.  "One is a boy and one is a girl and while 'he' and 'she' are fine, I'd like mom to stay in Sickbay tonight for observation."

 

                "Agreed," Picard said, overriding Vash's protestations.  He picked her up and carried her toward the holodeck door.

 

                Vash wrapped her arms around Picard's neck, safe in the warmth of his strong arms.  She laid her head on a broad shoulder and thought about her alternate somewhere out in the universe, alone.  "Thank you," she whispered softly.

 

 

**FINIS**

 

AUTHOR'S FOOTNOTE: (Just for Mr. Whoa Nellie)  The unofficial title of this story is 'The Evil Vash Story.'  (He's been lobbying for us to use that title for ages--obviously he lost since that would have given away the plot entirely too soon.)

 

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