1900 HRS

"... and that's the last time I've seen her," Derek sighed with regret. He had been talking incessantly for over an hour, pretty much laying his whole life out in front of the Counselor. "I've thought about sending her a message and apologizing for my behavior tons of times, but... it always got away from me. And now,... now I might never get a chance...," his voice cracked.

"You don't know that," the Counselor, Lt. Anabelle Sawyer, tried to encourage him kindly.

"True, but... ," his eyes lowered. "I just don't know how I would deal with the eventuality... probably go insane for a while..."

"Well, you certainly can't deal with it by getting into a bar room brawl," she remarked.

"Oh... yeah... Captain Ronovsky informed ya about that, eh?" He grinned apologetically.

She nodded.

"I have tried to control my feelings, my fears, but...," Derek's brow creased.

"Control, or bottle up?" she was probing.

"What's the difference?" He shrugged.

"Big difference." The Counselor leaned forward to get Derek's full attention. "Emotions have to be controlled, not kept shut in, otherwise... things like that incident in the bar today can happen. And next time, you might not have your brother there to keep you out of trouble."

Derek frowned.

"Let me explain," Lt. Sawyer sat back in her chair and folded her hands. "To illustrate... let's assume a man has captured a wild animal, maybe... a wild horse, a mustang. A furious and powerful stallion," Anabelle began. "He confines the animal in a cage, while it keeps thrashing and kicking violently," she looked at him pointedly. "Would you say that the man has control over the animal?"

"I suppose not," he replied after thinking on it for a minute. "He just has it locked up."

She compressed her lips and narrowed her eyes. "What would happen, if that animal finally breaks out of the cage?"

"It would wreak havoc... I would assume." Derek started to see her point.

She gave a sage nod. "Under what circumstances would you say the man truly has control over the animal?"

"I guess, when he can let the mustang out of the cage, and it won't be bucking around like crazy any more, but it would listen to his commands." He cocked his head in thought.

Lt. Sawyer watched Derek's eyes in suspense, as the light of understanding seemed to come on.

"Ahhh... I see."

"Yes, Lieutenant. And it's the exact same thing with emotions," she smiled. "They can be as powerful as a wild animal, a 'beast'. Eventually, something will unlock its cage, so-to-speak, pop the lid from that bottle, and the beast will come out. Controlling one's feelings, self-control, cannot be achieved by locking them up."

Derek looked at her thoughtfully.

"Self-control has to do with the actions we take when experiencing emotions," she continued. "Self-control is achieved when you let yourself have feelings, you acknowledge those feelings, but you never ever take inappropriate or negative actions because of those feelings."

He nodded in understanding. "That's not an easy thing to achieve," he smirked timidly.

"Nobody said that conquest would be easy, Lieutenant," she smiled back at him reassuringly.

=/\=

Half an hour later, Derek Lowe was shaking Lt. Sawyer's hand before leaving her office. It was late and he was ready to head back to the Centurion for some much needed sleep.

"Thanks so much for your time, Counselor," he smiled. "I will try to apply some of the suggestions you've given me. You've been a lot of help. And, I have to say... much more pleasant than certain people had me believe."

"No... problem," she peered at him, "That's... what I'm here for."

Derek turned and exited the room, leaving her behind with a clueless expression on her face.

'Wonder what he meant with that,' she shrugged.

After the door closed, Anabelle walked over to her desk and sat down on its corner. For a long while, she was sitting there in quiet contemplation with a far-off, melancholy gaze. 'It certainly is easier to give advise than to apply it yourself,' she pondered.

She thought about Liam, her reaction at seeing him again, and all the boiling rage that was still churning inside her. She felt ashamed that the simple event of him showing up in her office this morning had unleashed her 'beast', the feelings she had carefully kept contained for so long. But that 'beast' was running free now, and the only way to reign it in, to bridle it, was to confront it. To confront him!

=/\= - =/\=

2000 HRS

Derek Lowe was running through the corridors on deck 8. He had just finished reading the note his brother, Damon, had left him in his quarters. 'I hope, I'm not too late!' he thought while turning another corner.

Finally, the doors to shuttle bay 3 came into view. Derek almost ran into them because they didn't open quickly enough. He stopped just inside the huge compartment as the doors closed behind him. His eyes were sweeping the area, looking at each shuttle for a sign of his brother.

After a few seconds, he spotted Damon, who was busily loading equipment into one of the pods. "Damon!" he shouted across the room.

Damon Lowe looked up. 'Oh, great. He's back sooner than I thought,' he frowned.

"You NINCOMPOOP," Derek hurried toward him. "What in the blazes do you think you're doing?"

"Taking actions!" Damon retorted undeterred.

"Actions? Yeah..., if you're talking about flushing your Starfleet career down the drain," his brother countered sarcastically. "That would be taking actions... , really, really, bad actions!" he reprimanded Damon sternly.

The youngest of the Lowe brothers halted what he was doing and faced Derek. His eyes were dark and challenging. "Better than sitting around here and doing nothing," he growled.

They stared at each other silently for a minute.

"I quite clearly remember the Captain denying your request for leave, bro," Derek started off again in a more soothing tone.

"I don't care," Damon muttered under his breath.

"Matter of fact, I believe, he gave you an order," Derek continued.

"I don't care!"

Derek rubbed his chin in contemplation. "Disobeying a direct order by a superior officer, taking Starfleet equipment without permission... hmmm. I'm sure someone at the hearing will understand...," he proceeded slowly and deliberately with an edge of sarcasm, "... before THEY COURT-MARTIAL YOU!"

Damon's dark brown eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched. Derek was readying himself for the punch that was sure to come. But... instead, after a few tense seconds, Damon leaned back against the shuttle and sighed heavily.

Derek relaxed. "Weren't you the one that kept me from ending up in the brig earlier? The one that told me it wasn't worth getting into trouble, because we couldn't help Mom that way?" he reasoned with his younger brother.

Damon shook his head. "I just can't sit around here. I've got to do something," he whispered sadly.

"We will, little bro. We will!" Derek put his hand on Damon's shoulder.

=/\=

"Don't you have contacts in the Gamma Quadrant?" Derek rose from the cargo pod on which they had been sitting, while deliberating for the past 15 minutes, and started pacing.

"I do," Damon acknowledged. "Varscahn. Varscahn Lah'nk."

"Isn't he some kind of smuggler?" Derek cocked his eyebrow while inquiring cautiously.

Damon frowned. "He's in the... information and delivery business," he tried to explain the activities his rather dubious contact was involved in. "If that's what you mean."

The older brother wagged his head in thought. "You should contact him. Wouldn't ya think he might have heard something that could be of help."

"Well, if there's something to know, you can bet your hiney Varscahn knows it." Damon stood up. "Contacting him, however, is another story. I can show Dad where he could possibly find him..."

"That's better than nothing," Derek grinned. "C'mon."

Side by side, they walked out of the shuttle bay with determined strides.