The Complication

... Promises Kept

Author's Note: Thank you so much for your support with this series.

We are *almost* through this arc which serves as the catalyst for what comes next in the Conspiracy arc.

This chapter contains quite a bit of Data/Tasha fluff and it's a lovely relief to be writing it again!

-X-

Sleep did not come easy to anyone on the Enterprise that night.

In spite of her exhaustion, Beverly had tossed and turned.

Sleep eluded Jean-Luc as well. Knowing he would find no rest, Picard opted for a lonely, late-night stroll around the ship.

Miles lost track of time. He rolled onto his side and watched Keiko as she slept peacefully. They had patched things over, but Miles knew it was just that – a patch.

The lingering secret festered within him.

Data had collapsed next to Tasha and pulled her close, holding her almost possessively until his rest programme initiated.

And in his guest quarters, Richard Castillo stirred in his sleep.

-X-

"Hey! No," Richard hollered.

He scowled as he watched Tasha waddle down the length of the dock toting a heavy cooler. He set his son down on the sand before rushing off to catch Tasha.

"Allow me," Richard said, taking the cooler from her hand.

"I'm fine," Tasha protested.

She may have said that – but she was puffing hard.

As he felt the weight of the cooler, Richard shot her a disapproving look.

"What?" Tasha asked, knowing full well why he was giving her that look.

She bit her lip.

"It's not like it weighs any more than your son," Tasha said, casting a glance back over her shoulder to check on the baby.

He was a great big chunk of a toddler with a mop of unruly curls and a smile that would break hearts one day.

Lucia Castillo had said Richard was like that too at that age before he grew into his lanky frame.

At present, her son was toddling about at the edge of the water – running back from each wave before creeping close again.

"Mummy! Look at me!" Sela cried out before she ran and leapt off the edge of the dock.

She emerged a moment later, wiping the water from her eyes to ask if it was a bigger splash than the last jump.

Suddenly, Tasha hissed and clutched her bump, her touch was delicate as she tried to somehow communicate to her unborn son that he had no need to tap dance against her rib cage – she was already keenly aware of his presence.

"Tuula?" Richard asked, concerned.

"It's fine. I don't think we're going to make it past Labour Day," Tasha remarked.

Richard's eyes went wide with fear. He dropped the cooler.

"Honey?" he pressed as he rushed to her side.

"No, no. I'm fine. I just mean I don't think this one wants to wait that long," Tasha assured him.

Richard was still trying to come to terms with the fact there would be a new life in their home at some point in the next three to five weeks.