Thanks for reading and leaving comments, everyone! Much appreciated. Enjoy the latest chapter! -Becca

The door hisses shut and out of the corner of my eye, I see Jean Luc slam himself against it in frustration, and no doubt fear. His head against the cold alloy, his fists come up and slam against the barrier, "Dammit," he cries, his voice breaking. I don't summon him, but he comes anyhow.

A hand on my shoulder again tells me that he's here. "Wesley," he bends down onto one knee and nudges Wes' sleeping form. I stay in place, unable to tear myself from the two of them. "Wes," he repeats, taking his head in his hands. "Wesley please wake up," he pleads, tears forming in his eyes. "Oh God, Wes," he moves further up his still-sleeping body and gathers him into his arms as he levels him onto the floor with us and kisses his moist forehead. "Please wake up."

I'm so accustomed to them now that my own tears feel banal, commonplace. Sitting on that cold floor, exhaustion and resignation hit me and I all but melt. I hear Jean Luc's sharp intake of breath, "Beverly." He unwraps an arm from around the sleeping boy and nudges my chin up to look at him. "We mustn't lose hope." He tries to smile, "there's a way out of every box-"

I half-smile, remembering and reciting the rest of his sentence, "a solution to every puzzle". Kesprytt. "What are we going to do?" I cry, my voice cracking.

He shakes his head, laying another kiss on Wesley's forehead, before returning his gaze to me, "I don't know. But we'll get out of here. I promise."

I nod, if only to reassure him that I do indeed have faith in him. I look around the dimly lit room. It's foolish and pointless; they're not going to leave us a tricorder with a map of how to get out of here. There's no brightly lit 'Exit' sign, indicating a way out of this torture. For the umpteenth time in the last year, I'm heartbroken by what's happened to this wonderful Federation. Was it all an illusion?

"Why would they be holding us?" I contend after moments of silence. I look again at my son, propped against Jean Luc's chest. He could almost be caught in a pleasant dream as a small trail of saliva trudges out his slightly-open mouth and wets Jean Luc's shirt. I take his hand, again struck by its gelidity. "Wes," I whisper into his ear, wishing that maybe this time he'll respond. I have no tricorder; I have no way of assessing drug degradation. I have no way of even knowing what drug this is!

"Wes, wake up. We're here, Wes." I don't expect a response but when I hear a muffled moan, my heart leaps.

"Wes!" Jean Luc gently nudges the sleeping boy propped lazily against him and pats his back to rouse him even more. "Wesley, wake up!" He intones forcefully.

"aaaaahhhhhhh…." It's forced and pained, but at least he's coming to. I blow a steady stream of air against his closed eyes. I used to do it when he was a little boy when he wouldn't get out of bed. It would annoy him to such an end!

"mooommm stopppppp," I let out a small laugh of relief and fresh tears bud as I move closer to him and Jean Luc, hugging them both and laying a kiss on Wesley's temple.

"Wesley," Jean Luc whispers, "we need you to get up. I know it's hard, but we need you to tell us what's going on."

"So tired," he croaks and nestles into Jean Luc's solid warmth.

"I know," he rocks his lithe body. "I know, but you've got to. I can make that an order, Ensign," he imitates his own forceful captain's tone.

"Aye shur."

We share a smile and even though I'm terrified, I'm grateful to at least be here with my husband and my son, in whatever condition they might be in. I don't know why I feel the need to say it; maybe because I don't know what's going to happen to us. But maybe just because I can't go a moment without thinking it, "I love you."

He nods and manages a half smile in response, "I love you."

He tears his gaze from me, though, ending the moment and returning his attention to our son. "Wesley Robert, open your eyes. I know it's hard, Wes, but we need to know what's going on here. Please."

Eyes strain to flutter open before closing again. "I'm shorry," he muffles.

"No," Jean Luc cradles his head against his heart and continues softly, "No don't be sorry. Just tell us what's going on here."

"I," his voice becomes steadier. "I, uh, was at home waiting to hear from you two when the phone rang and they called."

"The people here called you?"

He nods against his chest, "yea, they called. They've been calling. They told me they had Ron and," tears come to his eyes, "they said they were going to hurt him if I didn't come. They said they were going to come if I didn't go and they'd hurt Saoirse and Aaron." Tears come from his eyes and further wet the shirt. "So, I came."

I hear Jean Luc's intake of stale air as he holds back his own tears, "What have they done to you?"

"I don't remember everything," he's getting emotional, "I'm sorry, I'm-"

"No," Jean Luc cuts him off gently, "you have nothing to apologise for. Just tell me what you remember."

I stroke his back, feeling the indent of his ribs as my hand moves up and down. "I, they took me into a room and then all I remember is a console. Familiar schematics from my own research, but I wasn't in a lab. Dark room. Not many lights. There was something in my arm – a dull ache."

I lift up his sleeves and find the cause of the dull ache; needle track marks around his left median cubital artery. He was infused with whatever's still mildly lingering in his system. I lay my hand over the bruise, symbolically trying to soothe it.

"Then what, Wes?" he enjoins.

"I remember words and voices, but I didn't recognize any of them. I kept trying to get to Ron, but I didn't see him."

"Do you think they were running experiments on you?"

"Yes… I don't know. I remember them asking about Jack. They wouldn't let me sit. I had to stand and my legs were tired so I propped myself against the dark console." He's silent for a moment, "that's all I remember. I'm sorry."

"Hey," Jean Luc hugs him closer, "What did I say about 'sorry'? You did just fine."

We hear the hydraulic doors open again, and another figure emerges from the dark corridor. "Mrs. Picard," a crisp female voice. I tear my gaze to the door; I don't recognize her. Come with me."