Thanks for reading and reviewing, everyone! Enjoy! -Becca
"Oh, Kitten!" I cry, holding her growing body tightly against mine. The dull ache in my arm and shoulder fades away as I try to consume as much of her as I can.
"Mama...!" She stereotypically wraps her small fingers in my hair, and for once I don't register the sharp pull against my scalp. "Mama missed you so much, Kitten!" I cry as I hold her against me. "Were you a good girl for Hope and Gregg?"
Gregg smiles and lays a hand on her warm back, "She was an angel, weren't you, Kitten?"
I hand Saoirse off to Jean Luc in exchange for Aaron and for the next few moments, I allow myself to breathe in that familiar, downy baby smell and revel in the reality that I'm really still here with him. "Goodness, Aaron" I cry against him. One last lonely tear, all that I have left, meanders solitarily over my cheek bone and wets his sparse hair. He doesn't understand what's going on and he starts to fuss. I look at the chronometer against the wall - it's past their bedtime and they're exhausted. Reluctantly, I hand him back to Gregg and not a moment later, I feel a familiar hand tug on my arm.
The moment, however, is broken when I feel a tug on my arm. "Beverly," Hope's tone is concerned. She whispers, dragging me into the living room. "What happened?" Her gaze flits to Jean Luc and Wesley who have also entered the room. A little louder, "Excuse my French, guys, but you all look like shit! What the hell happened?"
The weight of gravity pulls me down to her soft couch. I shake my head as I lean back against its welcoming warmth. My muscles groan as the weight of what's happened in the past two days settles. "I honestly don't know." I throw my hands up in exasperation. "We were captured, threatened, experimented on, nearly killed…"
"Good grief! Well," she begins, but then her eyes catch the nasty, large bruises on Wesley's exposed arms. "Oh my God, Wesley!" She moves close to him, analyzing and scrutinizing each mark.
He looks down with a mumble, "It's fine."
He shrugs her off, but Hope is insistent. "Well that's not going to fly here; Not when you've got two doctors in the house."
"Hope," Wes looks up with tired, bloodshot eyes. "It's fine. But, uh, is there any way that we can use your console? We need to contact an old friend."
"Of course, Wesley! But not until after I've cleaned up your arm." She winks and disappears into the kitchen.
"Wesley," Jean Luc pulls him down to the couch. Willingly slumping against the fabric, Wesley turns his gaze to him. "I have an idea… about contacting Data." He grapples with the words for a moment. "After Savet, Vera, and Jack… and whoever else… drugged me in the dark room – well when I was recovering, eh, I heard the EMH and Seven talking…" He pauses, again trying to collect and work through what he's going to say.
"Go on, Wes…" Jean Luc squeezes his closest hand.
"They were trying to figure out how to contact some of their old crew – you know, to help - but communications in and out of the Daystrom Institute were being monitored. Nothing could go in or out without people knowing exactly what was being said. But…" He looks up with a half-grin. "Then Seven suggested using her cortical implant."
"One of her Borg implants, you mean?" I'm confused.
"Exactly. So, that got me thinking about Data's processing chip. I remember something that Data told me about how he could use it to communicate-"
"Yes, but Wesley..." Jean Luc interjects. "We don't know the frequency."
Wesley's half grin spreads and amid his fatigue, his face lights up. "Yes, we do."