The Pur'pard is burning as it percolates through my vessels. Jack, he's just sitting here looking at me with a crooked grin on his face. He wants me to talk; he's proud that he was able to fake his death and pull off this stunt. He's abnormally satisfied that he left me and he wants me to ask the how. He wants to gloat, but I won't give him the satisfaction. So, I just hang my head and continue on my previous line of thought.

"Did I ever tell you, Beverly, how beautiful you are?" My stomach turns. "Don't you want to know why I left Wesley so many messages – all those holo-projections, all those 'visions'?" No. I don't. I want to die in peace, unmolested by him.

I hear movement outside the door as my body de novo fabricates more salty tears; I must be hallucinating. There's a commotion and a familiar voice shouting, but I'm resigned to die and I chock what I'm hearing up to my wistful imagination; I've given up. I feel more Pur'pard enter the small vein that he's catheterized with an aching burn.

And then, like my prayers have been heard by a far off deity, the door hisses open with a fervor. My vision is blurry from the tears and from the drug, but I still see him – them- and I refuse to believe that it's true.

I look at his hand holding a familiar small grey weapon, confirming that what I heard moments ago was phaser fire. He's adamant and I've seen that look of determination on his face many times before when we were on the Enterprise. His lines are firm, staid as he registers whom the other occupant of the room is. He looks at me and his face immediately blazons a look of true horror and agony.

Barreling in behind him are the woman I've told was Seven, the EMH, and Wesley who I note is still limp, but trying to be brave and tough it out. Jean Luc is out of breath, adrenaline surging through him, as his eyes sweep and regard the other occupant of the room. It's then that he registers with terror, "Jack!"

Intuitively, he knows this isn't the same man who he was friends with all those years ago. Well, he was the same man, but he hid it well. Jack smiles and rests his elbows comfortably on the table in front of him. "Johnnie, Johnnie, Johnnie. You know," he starts to get up.

"Don't move," Jean Luc shouts, his phaser trained on Jack.

I'm watching the scene in front of me through lidded eyes. It's been a while since the infusion was started and I'm already feeling weak, a testament to the brain's lack of oxygen and my overall severe dehydration.

With a start, I feel the needle being pulled out of my arm and the restraints loosened. My shoulder joint has been dislocated and I can't move my left arm without pain. "I'm sorry," the EMH whispers into my ear. "I have to set the joint. It's going to hurt."

I nod and look away, "Just do it," I cry; I'm no stranger to pain.

"I've had a lovely chat with your wife, Jean Luc." He laughs, seated in his chair. "I even kissed her," he quirks a grin. "I'm sure you know how good she tastes."

The veins on my husband's neck are bulging and his breathing is shallow. "You bastard."

Jack's eyes dart to Wesley, "My son," he holds out his arms to signal an embrace. "How I've missed you, son. We're going to do wonderful, great things together, my precious boy."

"I'm not your son," Wesley's voice becomes steadier and bitterer as he moves closer to Jean Luc.

Jack laughs and stares at the two men opposite him. "Seems like you got everything you wanted, Johnnie: my son, my wife. Tell me, was it worth the wait?"

"How could you, Jack?" he pleads, not slackening his grip on the weapon.

"Don't be so surprised," he reclines comfortably in the high-back chair. "It's cute, this…" he twirls his index finger in the air, "this stunt you're playing. You know you'll never leave here alive."

The tall Borg, Seven, interjects, "Savet and Vera are dead."

He smiles, "they're inconsequential, Seven. I thought you were bright; you should know th-"

"The other eight floors are sealed off. Transporters are offline and communications have been terminated."

His face pales. I feel a pop and with a jab of discomfort my shoulder is again mobile, albeit painfully. I try to rise, but a hand on my shoulder signals me to remain seated. It's no use anyway – I don't think I could stand if I tried.

In a moment, Jack knows his fate; he knows he won't leave this room. "Jack." He turns to Wesley, whose eyes are trained on the Jack withsadness. "Oh, Jack," Jean Luc repeats mournfully. He now looks like I did – like a caged animal. He's desperate. In a moment of distraction as Jean Luc regards Wesley gravely with the knowledge of what he's about to do, Jack quickly reaches for his belt.

"Jean Luc!" I cry weakly when I see Jack pull out his own phaser. Then, with trained reflexes like a cat, a stream of fire alights the room and Jack falls to the ground. I let out a sob as I see my husband's shoulders slump in exhaustion and the weapon drop listlessly from his hand. "I'm so sorry, Wesley," he embraces the young man whose standing close to him and whose eyes haven't moved from the warm corpse on the other side of the room.

Wesley hangs his head and nods, "Thank you." He throws himself into Jean Luc's arms that steadily come up to envelope him as his tears fall. "I'm so sorry Wes." He repeats against his ear, "I'm so, so sorry."

I see Wesley pull back just as I feel a hypospray at my neck. But my attention is not focused on myself, but on the moment between the two men. "What did I say," I see Wesley manage through tears, "about 'sorry'?"

Jean Luc nods gratefully and hugs him again.

"He's dead," Seven announces from the opposite side of the chamber.

"As expected," the EMH adds sardonically and unnecessarily.

"Beverly," Jean Luc's tears come freshly as he hobbles over to where I'm sitting. I don't think he knows about my shoulder as he gathers my form tightly against him. I don't mean to, I don't want to lose contact, but I wince in pain and he quickly pulls away. "Beverly? I'm sorry, did I hurt you?"

I shake my head as I sob with relief, "no, no." I bring my free hand up to trace the precious lines of his face, reveling in my happiness and mirth to see him again. He gathers me against him a second time, more gently this time. "I'm so sorry," his body shakes with sorrow.

"No," I shake my head against his shoulder. "Don't be sorry."

"Mom," Wesley bends down to our level and embraces the two of us. I disentangle myself from the both of them as I hold my son's face in my right hand. "I'm sorry, Wesley, about Jack."

"No. It's not your fault, Mom. I'm just glad that it's over."

I nod my head, though still heart broken over the scar this is going to leave on him. To have such a violation at such a young age; it's more than I want for him to bear.

"Ahem," The EMH clears his throat, cutting the moment between us.

"Captain, Doctor, Wesley," Seven addresses. "It would be prudent to get you to a medical facility."

"Agreed, Doctor. I've given you an antidote to the Pur'pard but you'll need a blood transfusion. More than that, there are severe bruises and cuts on your arm, not to mention the severe damage done to the your elbow ligaments." He pauses, "I'd say you're going to need more than a short session under the dermal regenerator."

I feel Jean Luc's hands at my arms, his fingers lightly skittering over the needle marks, cuts, and bruises. "Oh, Beverly," he breathes, taking in all the incurred damage as he moves his head lower to lightly kiss away the hurt.

I lift his head, again bringing him to my level. "Jean Luc," I smile. "Thank you for saving me."

I look up at Seven, Wesley, and the EMH, "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Doctor." The EMH looks at Seven, "But,-"

Seven interjects and finishes his statement. "You need to leave. Now. We don't have much time until others come and we don't have enough weaponry to protect ourselves."

"Agreed." The EMH thinks aloud, "You can't go to Starfleet medical. Too many questions, too much recognition – for all of you. Doctor Picard, is there anywhere you can go?"

"Do we have the use of a transporter?" I think of Hope.

Seven nods. "Yes," She motions to the door, "It is 2 doors down the hall."

I feel Jean Luc's arms under me as I he sweeps me into his arms. "Where?"

"Follow me." Seven's pace is hurried as she leads us through the dim corridor. I lean into my husband, recoiling in habit at the sight of the hallway.

"Where?" She asks heading for the console.

"County General, Yakima Valley Washington." The three of us ascend the transporter pad. "Are you coming with us?" I look over at the two staid figures at the control panel.

They collectively shake their head to indicate the negative. "No. We need to wipe the transporter log. If we leave, they'll be after us as well." The EMH takes Seven's hand tenderly. "We're sorry," he states regretfully. "We didn't know about any of this until we were in too deep. We're going to try to expose the Institute..."

From the sound, I can tell that Seven has activated the console, "Hurry and don't tell anyone what's happened. We'll contact you." Before the blue takes us away, "Doctor, Captain, remember that they have eyes everywhere. Be careful who you trust."

Trepidation once again overtakes me as I hug my husband tighter and for the second time today, a familiar haze of azure carries us away from this horrible place.