The perception of time's passage has puzzled people for ages. There's that old adage: "time flies when you're having fun". Sadly the reverse is also true and time inches by in moments of tension or stress. According to the console's chronometer, we've only been sitting here for 5 minutes. But it's been the most agonizing 5 minutes of our lives.
An indication flags on the computer, telling us that we're receiving an incoming call.
Finally!
Instantaneously, the familiar personage of Owen Paris illuminates the screen in the growing darkness of the study.
He looks more relaxed this time. I can tell from his background that he's not in his office. There's a large sofa in the periphery and I can hear the soft patter of feet somewhere off screen.
"Jean Luc," the older man begins, "Beverly," he nods in my direction. "I'm sorry about earlier. All Starfleet communications are being monitored and with all that's been going on I didn't want our communication to be monitored or recorded."
"Owen, what's going on? I'm sure you've heard about my situation."
Owen takes a deep breath, "Jean Luc, your resignation has made you a little bit of a pariah. When you left, there was a huge drop in morale. You have to understand that you were one of our most well-known and famous captains! We had cadets climbing over each other to serve aboard the Enterprise with you. Academy applications were up and there was a huge surge in young people's interest in Starfleet." Owen once again turns his gaze to meet my own, "the same with you, Beverly. Young residents were practically chomping at the bit to rotate with you on the Enterprise."
We're both still confused, "I'm sorry, Owen. But what does that have to do with Jean Luc being coerced into going to Romulus or Wesley being denied graduation?"
Owen looks down and rubs his temples as he leans forward in his chair, "Don't you see? This is a ploy to get you both back in Starfleet."
"Are you saying that the admiralty is using us as pawns to boost interest in Starfleet Academy applications? Owen that's absurd!"
"I know, I know." But the signs are still there; Owen Paris is still hiding something.
"Owen, what aren't you telling us?" My voice is soft. This man is stuck between a rock and a hard place. He's been good to both of us in the past and there's no use in harshness or brash interrogation.
"The Federation wants to build the Fleet to boost its might. There's talk of taking the Cardassians into the Federation in an attempt to intimidate the Romulan Empire. And, with the way things are going, less and less young people are willing to go into Starfleet. Voyager is still missing, we're just off the Dominion war, and even the 'great' Jean Luc Picard has resigned."
"I won't be pulled back in by guilt, Owen. It's not our sole responsibility that interest in Starfleet has plummeted! Look what the organization his become! They're even willing to negotiate with the Cardassians who are more ruthless than the Romulans! Owen, Beverly and I have a family now. We have lives and jobs and we're not going to drop those for the sake of boosting morale in an organization. And for the admiralty to even think of threatening our son! It's an outrage!" He can't help but respond to the situation. I put my hand on his knee in an effort to ground him, but he's shaking with anger. Jean Luc feels betrayed by an establishment and a set of ideals that he spent his whole life following and upholding. And to tell you the truth, so do I. It was better when we thought it was some sort of fiendish plot by cloaked aliens to seize the mind and the conscience of high-ranking officials. But now that we know that Wes' future being threatened by bitter admirals who are disgruntled over a drop in admissions statistics, we're both a livid.
"Please Jean Luc, Calm down." Owen gestures with his hands. I can see that he feels bad, but that he's also complicit. The poor man is struggling with his conscience.
"Owen," Jean Luc begins calmly, "please don't do this. The sheer ridiculousness of this situation has to be evident to even you. Send someone else to take care of the Romulans. In fact, send Captain Harkson. I've worked with him in the past and he's extremely-"
"We've already considered Harkson. Truly Jean Luc it wasn't an issue of finding someone suitable to deal with the Romulans, it's all about publicity."
We want to get to the heart of the matter so he asks, "will you really prevent Wes' graduation if I don't come back?"
"When Nechayev and Nakamura were discussing it, they were very serious about following through with it."
"Can you say or do anything for Wesley?" he asks softly.
"I'll try, Jean Luc. But I'm one man; the number of admirals who aren't intimidated by Nechayev is small, as you know."
We both smile at the veracity of the statement, "we know."
The lightness we project on the situation is short lived, however. "Owen," There's that voice. When Jean Luc is about to threaten something, his voice takes on a deeper octave and he very definitively squares his shoulders. "Owen, if this gets out, Starfleet is going to have more trouble than simply a decline in their Academy admissions statistics."
Owen buries his head in his hands and tries to massage his tired facial muscles, "I know. Let me see what I can do. I'll try to keep you informed. I can't contact you from Starfleet and I can't use my comm. badge. I'll speak to you from my home in a few nights. I'll try. By the way, congratulations on the baby. Paris out. " And abruptly the screen returns to black.
/
"That didn't feel good, Beverly." His features are bathed in moonlight as he faces me in the stillness of our bedroom.
"Threatening Owen Paris?" I can't help but trace the lines on his face while he's thinking. My hand rounds the curve of his cheek and he turns to kiss my palm.
"Yes. He's a good man and I don't like the situation he's in."
"Were you serious about the threat?"
He sighs deeply. His hand moves from my thigh to the small of my waist and I focus I in on the feeling of his warm palm over top the silk of my nightgown. "Yes. He's threatening Wesley's future. Even if Wes doesn't want to stay in Starfleet after he graduates, I think that having the actual degree will behoove him later in life. He might think that now he can just get a job without an actual diploma – and I'm sure he can. Wes is the kind of boy who companies hire even if all he had was a secondary school education. But, I'd like him to have that degree and it's not right that it should be taken away from him. I don't think I could live with myself if he lost everything he's worked towards – no matter what he says."
His thoughts mirror my own. But then something from earlier this evening comes back to me and I smile.
"What?" He whispers through a sheepish grin.
"When we were speaking with Owen, you called Wesley your son. Do you really feel that way?"
"I always have, Beverly. Always."
I don't know what to say so I shrug his hand off my waist, raise myself up, and push him on his back. "I love you, Jean Luc Picard. We'll figure this out and no matter what happens we'll get through it." Those are the last words spoken that evening as I claim his lips as my own.