I know some people are going to hate this chapter, but here's hoping you like it! Hot off the press for your reading leisure.

I'm stunned into speechlessness. If I could see myself right now, I'm sure the result would be somewhat comical if it wasn't so terrifying.

"Jack," I whisper out of shock and awe.

He looks the same: only slightly taller than Jean Luc with a full head of dark brown hair. When I first met him, I thought he was attractive, dashing even. But now… now I face him with a strong sense of careless ambivalence. The lines of his face are smooth; he's kept himself well and I don't need to be drawn to him to notice.

"You're looking well, Beverly," his voice in insincere, prosaic, and dull. "You know," he laughs. "I think marriage to Jean Luc suits you," he smirks then spits: "I always did know you wanted him more than me."

I can't answer him; I have been floored into speechlessness and I fear that if I try to speak, all that will come will be spurts and sounds. Nothing makes sense anymore; is this even real? Or, am I hallucinating? My eyes dart frantically around the room, looking for a sign to answer either query. I think it's too horrible to be real. It's too horrific that Jack would do any of this to his son, or the woman that he was once married to.

"You…you're…" I clear my throat, residual bile still stinging and coating my insides. "You died, Jack. I identified your body."

He just laughs at me as if I've told a hilarious joke, "Still so simple minded, Beverly! No wonder we've found nothing with you. But Wesley, oh he's a gem."

"Don't hurt him, Jack. He's your son!" I plead as I try appealing to a greater sense of love and fealty for the son that I bore him.

"Enough, Jack." Savet soothes as he places a warm hand on Jack's broad shoulder.

My eyes dart through the darkness from Vera, to Savet, and now more incredibly to Jack, "Just let us go! We can't help you. Please." I'm begging at this point. I just want to go home.

Jack resumes his guffaw, "Oh, Beverly, I don't think you understand how this works…"

Tears spring forth from my eyes as further helplessness sinks in. "Then take me. Do what you want with me. But don't hurt them. Please." I hang my head and repeat my supplication, "please don't hurt them."

In my downcast gaze I don't see Jack round the table until I register his presence when he gathers me in a cold, unfeeling embrace. "Now, now, Beverly, my dear, dear wife." His icy hands suss out the prominent ribs on my back, his fingers linger in their grooves like he's strumming a harp. "Don't be afraid. It'll all be over soon." More sobs wrack my body until I realize that my tears are meaningless and only fuel his control.

I have to know as I push him away violently. "Are you going to kill us?"

His cold eyes lower and he gives me a wink, "Don't worry. We'll make it quick."

I have a bargaining chip, but I hate myself for using it. "You'll never accomplish anything if you kill Wesley; you need him, don't you? He's exceptional after all." But is there really another way out?

He smiles, "And again you display your simple mindedness; we're not going to kill Wesley." He mocks tenderness and brushes a hair away from my face. "You're looking a little tired, Beverly." His hand trails over my cheeks to the soft skin under my eyes as he traces the purple-bluish marks, "I'm familiar with these dark circles. You wore them so often during our marriage."

"Why, Jack?" I brush his hand away.

"Why?" He mirrors as I notice Savet and Vera leave the room. "Why?" He sits in the chair next to me, taking my hand before I recoil. "We used to be married, Beverly, and now I repulse you? Or, did I always repulse you? I saw the way you looked at him. I even saw it on our wedding day," disgust lingers in his voice as his saliva brushes across my face.

"Why are you doing this, Jack?"

He raises himself and leans over me, his blue eyes boring into my own. "You want to know why, Beverly?" He throws up his hands in mock consternation. "I was bored. Do you know what that's like? Our life was so… " He gesticulates in his hands as If he's pulling ideas out of the atmosphere, "…so pedestrian. Starfleet was so rigid." He walks in circles. "My friends – your Johnnie boy, Walker – god they were just so dull. What was I going to do, be a Starship captain? Not bloody likely with a friend like Jean Luc Picard!" He's again silent for a moment, "But you," he winks again. "You were fun while you lasted."

My body jumps when his fists slam on the table, his eyes growing red, "I was tired of living in everyone's goddamn shadow! So, I found a better use of my talents… here."

"Your talents, Jack?"

He's frustrated, displaying the choleric nature of a sociopath as he squeezes his eyes to release the tension. "I can do things, Beverly. Why do you think it was so easy for me to fake my own death? I can move things like Wesley can but not as well. I think," he starts to chuckle and a wide grin overtakes his fictile features, "I think we're the next stage of human evolution."

I'm angrier now in the face of his arrogance, "No one else has displayed these abilities Jack; Wesley's just talent-"

"Goddammit, Beverly!" He shouts, frightening me yet again and causing my spine to curve into the soft leather back of my seat. "You just don't see it do you?!"

I'm silent as his fists again come down deafeningly on the wooden conference table. "Answer me!"

"I will admit," I take a deep breath. "That I was surprised when the Traveler told me that Wes was like Mozart. I always knew he was gifted, but I never considered him a prodigy."

He smiles, "Oh yes, the Traveler." He says the name with disdain, but a hint of knowing.

And then it hits me again and the leaden weight in my stomach augments. "What happened to the Traveler, Jack?"

He wipes his forehead again and spins on his heels, "Oh poor fellow. Another unfortunate accident in our quest for perfection. But don't be sad, Beverly, he died for the cause. Just like you and Johnnie will."

"Why kill Jean Luc and I, Jack? What have you got to gain?"

"Well, nothing really, I suppose," he responds contemplatively as he rounds the table and again takes my hand with a stifling force. "But you don't really think we're going to let you out of here knowing what you know."