His shoulders seem to hunch with his admission and sadness ebbs at his words. "I couldn't understand what was happening," he hangs his head, hiding his gaze from us. "Over the next few weeks, after that incident, more things started to puzzle me. Kathryn said it herself – the halls seemed darker, less what they used to be. So," He sighs, pausing before he continues. "I went to Alynna, asked her what was going on; she told me not to worry, that they were running a few tests. She didn't say what kinds of tests. But, I started noticing that my access to files and parts of the computer was denied after I had asked it. So, I had Reg look into it – he's an engineer and as such he has a certain way with computers-"
"I'm sorry, Admiral," Wesley interrupts his rabbit trail. "But what could you have found? We already know that Starfleet was working with the Daystrom Institute…"
He shakes his head vehemently, "Don't you understand, Wesly? Daystrom Institute is Starfleet!"
"What?" I interject incredulously. "How is that possible?"
He wrings his hands, getting up laboriously to pace the clean floor. "The Daystrom Institute is a cover – an allowance. A way for Starfleet to run secret investigations, experiments that are unsanctioned even by their own precepts!"
"The type of experiments that they ran on Wesley and me?" I look pointedly, remembering with horror what I experienced.
"Yes. That," he concedes. "And much more. They've been working mainly with time – temporal mechanics." He looks to his right. "What you were working with, Wesley."
Wes shakes his head. "Listen, I was working with warp field theory. The only time I was able to," He bunny-ears the air, "transcend time, was under the guise of the Traveller – and he's dead. I haven't touched temporal fields since!"
"You might not have," The Admiral is adamant. "But you were damn close, and the fact that you'd done it once before made you highly desirable."
"Desirable?" Jean Luc's head shoots up. "What do you mean by desirable?"
"For further experimentation. We know that it's within our grasp in the future to transcend time, to work with it like a potter with clay, and change events within it – both forward and backward – to suite a purpose. Jack was obsessed with it-"
"Sorry, Jack? You knew about Jack Crusher?" I'm furious – how could Starfleet have propagated the lie of his death to me and to Wesley for all these years! Well, I shudder, it's turning out not to be the organization I thought it was.
"Jack was behind all of it." He responds.
"But," I want answers. "18 years ago, I was lead to believe that he was dead. Starfleet gave him an official funeral. I was compensated for his death even!"
"I know," he whispers. "I remember. I thought he was dead as well at the time." He looks up; his gaze boring into all three of us. "I hope that you understand that this is as new to me as it is to you. I couldn't believe it when I saw him again. I remembered him so well because he was in a class that I taught many years ago at the Academy. He was," he smiles in recollection. "One of my best students, you," he looks at Jean Luc. "Remember the class."
"Yes," Jean Luc recalls. "I remember – you introduced first year cadets to flying shuttles."
"I kept a minimal contact with him after he graduated. And then news of his death came; he was officially dead according to Starfleet records." The older man sits back down as Kathryn comes back into the room, a baby on both hips. She's so small, I notice, that she looks almost weighed down even with babies.
Aaron looks at us wide-eyed, like he's going to cry out of hunger. Omph, I think: the last thing we need is an angry infant! Saoirse, though, is calm and happy as she looks on at Kathryn, twirling her long hair in her tiny fingers as she's mesmerised by the newness of it.
"Admiral," I rise, relieving Kathryn of one baby as she sits down again with the other. "I'm sorry, but when did…" I run my hand over a warm, soft back – soothing and silently imploring calmness if only for a few more moments. "How did you find out about Jack then?"
"I saw Jack Crusher for the first time since he was declared dead a little over a year ago. He had come into Headquarters. And he was angry," his hands form tight fists as he emphasizes. "He didn't see me, but, I recognized him immediately. Jack hadn't changed. He looked frozen in time – almost plastic."
He did, I think. He looked almost like he had the last day that I'd seen him – when I had to identify him in the morgue.
"I thought I'd seen a ghost. So, I followed him. I kept my eyes on the floor; I feigned ambivalence as I trod behind him." He laughs, "He was so angry and so focused that he didn't even notice me… maybe," his hands move to his midsection, "it was the paunch. But, whatever it was, he just kept going – storming into Nechayev's office. I dawdled outside for a moment, pretending to look at the padd in my hand."
"Did you hear anything?" Jean Luc ventures.
"He was furious. There was a good bit of yelling," Paris looks to Wesley. "He was angry that you were up to leave the Academy. That's all I heard…"
"What?" Wesley's hands rise to his temples to soothe away the frustration.
"I knew something was wrong right then," he concedes. "Seeing Jack Crusher alive and in Starfleet headquarters was enough to make me smell a rat. And like it was intuitive, I knew that I wouldn't help keep you there. I knew I had to get you out."
"Are you saying that Brandt forced me out?" Wesley looks on, his face set with confusion and fatigue.
"Yes," Paris admits. "I asked her to."
Oh my goodness everyone! So many questions! I love it! You guys are such a huge help to me! :) can't even tell you! I'm off to bed. More chapters tomorrow :) Hopefully I'll get up early enough and get a head start. Love all of you and can't wait to hear your predictions! Thank you :)