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The sight of your wife deep in thought—brow furrowed, lips pursed, hands occasionally tucking stray hair behind her ears—was no uncommon sight for you. Seemed almost constantly since your return to the Alpha Quadrant that she would sit at the kitchen table and think. She thought so much now, you wondered if she even ate. Had she? Yes, she had. You ate lunch together earlier. And what time was it? You tore your gaze from B'Elanna in order to look at the PADD in your hand. A little early for dinner yet.
What was uncommon about tonight was that you knew exactly what B'Elanna was deep in thought about: the swaddled bundle of piss and vinegar in the other room. You resisted the urge to check on Miral. Piss and vinegar aside, she's damned cute when she sleeps. Walking into her nursery would surely wake your light-sleeper up.
"How's it going?" You asked.
"It's going," she answered. It wasn't a proper answer in your opinion. She was avoiding the question.
"Talk to me, B'Elanna." You got up and pressed your hands to her tensed shoulders. "What are you s—" Good save, Good save. "—so worried about?"
B'Elanna looked up at you, putting a hand on one of yours. "You haven't even met my mother, but you want Miral to meet her?"
"She is her namesake."
B'Elanna shook her head, "I thought she was dead when I suggested that name."
"Does it matter?"
"Yes, I wouldn't have suggested it."
You shook your head, "I mean, does it matter what Miral's called? She should meet her SoSnI'."
She eyed you skeptically. "Her SoSnI'?"
You shrugged and she could probably feel it in your hands but you added anyway, "I'm certain my mother will claim grandma and she's going to need to tell them apart. Why not use Klingon to help her?"
"That's just it, I don't know if I want her to learn Klingon."
Doesn't want her to learn Klingon? Where did that come from? "I understand being worried about what she picks up from your mother's story-telling, but not even let her learn Klingon? Doesn't that strike you as a little cruel, B'Elanna?"
She shook her head, "Cruel would be making her feel more different than she already is." Your eyes narrowed, remembering how she wanted to modify Miral's DNA to remove the Klingon parts like her ridges. She'd gotten so close to it too. That terrified you. Sure, you could love a kid without ridges, but trying to imagine Miral without them was like trying to pilot without a ship. Impossible. Miral just wouldn't seem like yours and B'Elanna's without her little ridges. You wanted to check on her. She might be doing that adorable sucking in her sleep thing she does sometimes. Still, adorable as she is, she's part Klingon. She'll need that part.
"Did you ever think that denying her Klingon things will make her feel worse? What do you think is gonna happen the first time she meets another Klingon? They're gonna think she knows all these things that she won't. She'll feel terrible."
Quietly, "I know," B'Elanna slumped. "Except I knew all the Klingon things and I still had a miserable childhood." You frowned sympathetically. Compared to B'Elanna, your childhood was a cakewalk. So what if Dad always pushed you? At least you knew he cared.
"You know what's great about having a miserable childhood?" B'Elanna scoffed before you finished. "We won't make so many mistakes as parents because we know the biggest ones." From the top of her head looking down, you could see that her lip quirked up into a smile. You squeezed her shoulders victoriously. "I know you're worried, but I don't think it was the Klingon things that made you miserable. It was that you hated them being forced on you." B'Elanna nodded.
She sighed her response, "You're probably right, Tom."
You smiled, "When Miral's old enough, she'll tell us what she doesn't want to do anymore. She probably inherited that Klingon temper you refined on Voyager."
"Hey," B'Elanna laughed as she playfully snapped at you a little too loudly. Everything froze. The pulse of the apartment dropped. With it, Miral's muffled cry reverberated off the walls. "Oops."
"It's probably time for her to eat anyway," you remarked as you pulled B'Elanna's chair out for her.
She began unbuttoning her blouse one-handed as she walked toward the nursery. "Probably," she answered. You followed her inside, reaching ahead of her to give the room a soft glow from the adjustable light. She cooed to Miral as she picked her up. You watched, amazed at how simple and yet completely life-changing B'Elanna's little swaying looked with Miral in her arms trying to breast-feed.
B'Elanna's humming drew your attention as she moved herself and the now suckling Miral to the armchair in the corner. You followed, intending to watch Miral's cute expressions, but found yourself trying to recognize the tune B'Elanna hummed. It was upbeat but slower—like a lullaby you thought. You tried comparing it to the lullabies you knew with no luck. B'Elanna's lullaby started again while you tried.
"What are you humming?" Even though you spoke softly, B'Elanna seemed startled to hear you. Her tune stopped abruptly when she looked up at you. Clearly, B'Elanna thought you'd left. Miral seemed to make a disapproving noise, but that could have been your imagination.
B'Elanna looked back down at Miral. "Nothing, just something I remember from my mom." She jostled Miral softly when her mouth relaxed for a few seconds, checking if she was done. Miral began suckling again. "I don't remember the words anymore."
You couldn't help yourself. You smiled and kissed the top of B'Elanna's head. "I thought you weren't sure about the Klingon things?" Whatever private moment you inadvertently interrupted seemed like a common occurrence.
"I like the song." Defensive. Whoops.
"I think it's sweet." You'll save the "ask her mother what the words are" part for later.