Wesley and Anna walk side-by-side through a corridor. You can hear the soft hum of the Enterprise as they navigate the winding hall lined with overhead lights, waist-high obsidian computer panels and a blue-grey carpeting. Every now and then they pass under a bulkhead. To Wesley, the omniscient sound of the engines is like a steady snowfall. It coats his psyche like a familiar blanket on a cold winter day. His eyes travel to Anna. She is alert, peering around at all the newness. She says, "Thanks for taking me around. I know you must be eager to see your friends."

Wesley shrugs, "It's no problem. The Enterprise is the best place in Starfleet. I'd love to take you on a tour. I know this ship better than my dorm room."

She smiles. "That would be nice. What's our first stop?"

With a big grin Wesley says, "Ten Forward, of course."

You scan the room as Anna and Wesley step into Ten Forward. It is the social hub of the ship that is situated at the tip of the saucer section. Floor to ceiling windows display a sweeping view of space. Today, Ten Forward is blurry with activity. You notice pockets of people in various states of laughing, drinking, or shouting. There is aggressive elbow bumping around the bar as a group of off duty ensigns talk excitedly about the Vulcans and the spatial anomaly. Wesley motions toward the illuminated bar. Anna picks a quiet section tended by what appears to be a petit African woman, wearing a deep orange hat topped with a flat circle that slopes elegantly over her back. She polishes a glass.

Wesley nods to the bartender, "Hey Guinan."

Guinan, the El-Aurian alien, smiles wide. "Well, look what the spatial anomaly dragged in: Wesley Crusher." Her voice is soft and yet a bit rough around the edges. If Guinan was a human, she would have a mild New York accent. "Hello," she says to Anna, placing two smoky-colored glasses at their forearms. "Here, try this. I just got it in." She uncorks a stressed porcelain bottle and tips in a dark blue metallic liquid.

Anna and Wesley exchange a furtive glance and sip the drink. It goes down smooth followed by a pleasant warmth that ripples through their bodies. Wesley feels the tension in his stomach ease. He leans against the bar. Anna's gaze softens. Her eyes. Anna's irises are almost black, so there's no discernible pupil, but the striations in the iris give it an iridescent quality. They are like the finest black opals in the galaxy. She smiles at Wesley's admiring gaze. He laughs. Guinan asks, "So what do you think? It's a Vulcan drink; meant to calm the nerves."

Anna wipes a finger over her full lips, "It's sweet. Kinda like grape juice, but not."

Guinan eyes the bottle and shrugs, "Seems only fitting with the Vulcans running around the ship."

Wesley says to Guinan, "It's good to see you."

Always a quick study, she notices a sadness in Wesley. Maybe it's the slump of his shoulders or the way he holds the glass, but Guinan can see a weariness in young Wesley Crusher. "What brings you home, Wes?" She tops off his glass.

"I'm working with Anna on her senior thesis. Oh, uh, Guinan this Anna. Anna, this is Guinan: the wisest person on the ship. She's an El-Aurian, which means she's lived for generations-"

"Pleased to meet you, Anna." Guinan smiles and offers her hand. "You know what I do on this ship? I serve the good stuff and I listen. Always listening, so tell me about your thesis."

Anna takes another sip. "This Vulcan drink. I could get used to it." She throws back her head for a deep inhale. "My thesis is nothing special, really."

"I disagree," Wesley interjects. "I think it's brilliant. It's an entirely new method for data analysis of spatial anomalies. I mean, the use of the Nash algorithm to extrapolate a poly numeric sequence versus the older method truly revolutionizes the field."

Anna and Guinan chuckle. Guinan says, "Well, that's a bit much for me. I'm so glad to see you again, Wes. If you'll excuse me, I have more Vulcan wine to pass around. You two enjoy." She tops off Anna's cup with a wink.

Anna circles the rim of her glass with a pointer finger. "Do you really think it's all that or are you just trying to butter up a superior?"

Wesley stammers, "I, uh, no, I think it's a great idea. I'm excited to, uh, you know, see it in action."

Anna's opal gaze train on Wes like a Klingon tractor beam. "Is there something you'd like to talk about?"

He takes a long draw of the Vulcan grape juice. "No… It's just that." He bites his lip. "Anna, this is the first drink I've had with anybody from the academy since Nova Squadron. I'm…" Wesley takes another sip. "It's just nice, is all."

Anna reaches over and tenderly touches Wesley's forearm. He feels the warmth from her fingertips and the heaviness of her hand as it settles. There is an electricity that radiates up his arm. The feeling settles in his groin. "You're a good guy, Wes. I don't blame you for what happened. If there's anything you need to get off your chest, I'm here to listen."

You see a cadet stumbling through lit corridors. Wes' eyes focus ahead, his lips drawn tight, and his cadence sloppy. At the turbolift, Wesley puts a hand on the bulkhead for support. He takes a deep breath. The doors woosh open, and he crosses the threshold having made up his mind. "Computer," he says, "deck 18." He blinks. "Stop." The turbolift obeys. "Computer, deck 22."

Stepping out Wesley can see, in his mind's eye, Anna's dark eyes, her full lips, her olive skin. He can smell the perfume from her hair. Her small laugh is like a silver bell in his memory: beautiful and pure. A fire burns in his groin that warms his stomach. Wesley feels like he's walking through a tunnel in which time has slowed and the edges of perception blur. In his early career as acting ensign, Wesley pilots the Enterprise D, he experiences war, he interacts with beings of incalculable power, but tonight his heart thumps heavy in his chest as he approaches Anna's quarters. Boundaries will be crossed tonight, his ego reminds, and there's no going back.

You see Wesley outside of Anna's quarters, swaying: room 2214. He closes his eyes, takes a quick breath, and chimes his arrival. There is a pause. A sickening pause. Blood rushes to Wesley's cheeks as he waits. The doors slide open with the suddenness of a kabuki drop. Wes blinks to adjust his world to the presence before him. He has the wrong room? No, it's Anna's quarters. A man, an older man with blonde hair swept neatly to the side and dimpled chin leans against the door jam. He puts his hands comfortably in the pockets of his robe. "Can I help ya, sport?"

Wesley swallows, "I was, uh, is Anna around?"

He smiles, "She's indisposed at the moment."

"Who is it?" Anna shouts from the bedroom.

"It can wait until tomorrow." Wesley makes a hasty retreat down the hall.

"Who was it?" He hears Anna say before the doors close. Wesley speed walks to the turbolift, working hard against the growing knot in his stomach. The knot uncoils on the way back to his quarters and transmutes into a pounding headache.

You see Wesley sitting on the edge of his shallow platform bed. He curls forward and rubs his temples. The pain is blinding. He imagines lightning crackling between dark clouds. He contemplates paging the ship's doctor, and perhaps he would have if it she wasn't his mother, Dr. Beverly Crusher. Wes remembers his mother's hug in the shuttle bay after disembarking. She pulls him in so tight he can feel her pulse. The unconditional love Dr. Crusher feels for Wesley has the destructive force on his social life as a photon torpedo. Wes reasons if he pages his mother for a simple pain-killer, she makes a second cabin call tonight. Nobody breaks her little boy's heart! He can handle this. He can make it past the white-hot pain radiating behind his eyes. He can curl into a ball on this bed, close his eyes, and forget Anna's smile, her eyes, her hair, her hips, her lips.