"Don't look so shocked, Son!" Jack leers up at the transporter pad. "Although," he looks down with the beginnings of a grin, "I'm rather surprised to still see you here."
For some reason my hand, foolishly and unconsciously, has found its way to my side, resting on the obvious outline of the phaser. "Oh, Bev," His eyes shift as he holds out his hand. "I was going to say, you don't need that here," He laughs. "It won't work anyway. In fact," A hand motions to a pale, sickly looking Owen Paris. "Why don't you hand those over to Owen? I'm sure you all have one."
"Beverly," Jean Luc removes a phaser similar to our own as he gestures for Wesley and I to do the same. "Why don't you hand Owen your phaser." His own gaze hasn't moved from Jack.
Reluctantly my hand moves under my top, disengaging the weapon from its holster Wesley does the same. Jean Luc hands his over first – the large bulky weapon – the double, a decoy for the one still concealed. "Wait," his hand block's my path. "What's to stop us from killing you right here Jack?"
He chuckles, pacing the base of the pad. "Johnnie," he smirks. "I think you know that I come just as prepared as you: Interrupting Frequency Dampeners." His hand moves in a circle as if to trace the pattern of the dampener field.
"So, uh…" Owen steps forward. For a moment, I'm angry, furious even that my suspicions about Owen Paris were confirmed. Now, though, I'm just focused on getting out of here, and in truth I almost feel a little sorry for him.
"Jack," Jean Luc steps nonchalantly from the pedestal, sizing up his former friend. "You had us all fooled."
"Wasn't that hard, Johnnie!" Jack laughs, jovially slapping Jean Luc's back. "I bet you're wondering how I did it."
"No," a hand moves to his chin, rubbing it contemplatively. "I know how you did it."
"Oh?" He laughs again. "I should have known nothing gets past you, Johnnie. You always were the best and the brightest. Tell me, though," he pauses. "How did I do it?"
"Playing to your own flattery?" He eyes in response as Paris sheepishly takes the bulky weapon from his outstretched hand. "Holography, Jack." He capitulates. "That's how you did it."
"Yes, well," Jack palms. "You have to admit that it was rather ingenious. And, there's nothing wrong with a little bit of praise here and there," he punches his arm. "Does one's conscience good. I'm sure you received no lack of platitudes when you were Captain of the Enterprise," he finishes dramatically.
"Conscious? His tone is laced with sadness. "Do you have that anymore, Jack?"
"Beverly," he looks over to me, ignoring the question. "Looking rather scrawny these days." His eyes voraciously size me up like they did not too long ago. My stomach starts to churn emptily as acid rolls over acid, burning through the muscular tissue and surmounting physically set confines.
I know that if I speak, I'll sound helpless. My voice will crack and tears will threaten. But I promised myself earlier at the house that I wouldn't cry. That I wouldn't give into the fear or the loathing. So, I'm content to stare and pray that Jean Luc, like he always had in the past, has a plan this time.
"Tell me, Johnnie," His eyes rivet back to Jean Luc. "Is she still terrible in bed? Shy, unassertive, lays there like a-"
"Jack," His self-control slipping, Jean Luc moves to pummel him, but is held back by men swiftly emerging from the shadows. "You son of a bitch," he writhes against his constraints.
"Calm down, Johnnie!" He laughs, looking back at the chronometer behind him and sighs. "We're wasting time. Come, son," he motions to Wesley.
Wesley moves with a practiced ease and agility belying the fear that I see hidden underneath a brave exterior. "I'm not your son, Jack." His sigh is heavy with fatigue. "I think I told you that."
"Oh?" Jack grabs him around the shoulder, as a friend would, as they start to walk. "Really?" He laughs.
More men emerge from the shadows, two coming up to the transporter pad to escort me from the room. "Owen," I breathe walking past him. "How could you?"
"I'm sorry," he looks down at the floor, almost truly repentant. "Please, I-"
"Johnnie! Beverly!" Jack calls from ahead as men shove us forward and Owen meekly trails.
Gleaming marble welcome us into familiar Starfleet headquarters. It's eerier now when it's dark and deserted and the click of our shoes against the sterile floors sends lonely echoes off the heavy walls.
"I was sorry," I hear Jack begin. "That our time a few weeks ago was cut so short."
"Oh?" Wesley plays along.
"You know I had big plans for us, Wesley." He explains, leading us down a second set of corridors. "I believe that you can help me."
"Help you how?" He moves away from his body, gaining a better look at Jack.
"Well, I think you know that, Wes." He sighs plaintively. "I've tried everything! So many, Wesley, oh there were just so many… but none like you, son. No, none like you. You," He turns to him. "You're special - like me. Bruce, the others, he – they've tried but they can't explain it; what is it? An entity? Something in the environment? Is it genetic? We…" He pauses his pontification as he keys in another door code. "We still just don't know."
"And what about last time?" Wesley asserts. "You must have found something last time?"
"No! No!" Jack shakes his head vehemently as lights illuminate the dark room. "We didn't have enough time, Wesley!" He's emphatic, crazed as he paces. "Don't you see it? We're the next stage! We're better, more evolved!"
"What are you saying, Jack?" Wesley whispers, his voice not deceiving his confidence.
Jack turns back to him, gripping his shoulders. "Starfleet. We're behind it. You and me. You showed us that when you were young – your ability to manipulate space and time. We're the next race of humans that they're trying to breed! Think of it, Wes!" A devious wonder spreads across his features in his barely coherent tirade. "Super humans, transcending warp! Think of all the places that we could go – all the worlds we could conquer! The Romulans," He smiles. "Cardassians! Ferengi!"
"Jack," Wesley mirrors. "I can't do any of that anymore – not without…"
"No!" Jack interjects, taking Wesley by the arm and forcing him against the brightly lit console against the wall. "You can!"
"Jack," The doors to the room open. "Jack." A familiar figure stalks past us.
"Bruce!" His eyes light up at the sight of the recognizable silhouette. Bruce Maddox. I remember Bruce. He came on board the Enterprise from the Daystrom Institute on advisory of Admiral Nakamura to dismantle Data. He was cold, unfeeling, and plastic - almost like Jack in retrospect.
"Bruce I'm so glad you're here!" Jack turns, holding Wesley to the console. "I'm sure you remember Captain Picard and Dr. Beverly Crusher." His snide use of my old name, a name that I was cursed with for so many years, haunts me – brings me back to an old version of myself; a cut off, isolated, lonely person. I look to my right for reassurance from the man standing next to me. I'm sorry; I want to say, for all of this because I can't help but feel the substantial onus of guilt on my shoulders.
"Johnnie, Beverly, I'm sure you remember Bruce."
Jean Luc looks up and for a second I watch him carefully – he knows something. "Commander," he pauses, his collar catching his eye. "Or is it ensign now?" He gleams.
A coy grin advances over Maddox's synthetic cheeks. "What were you doing in our home?" Jean Luc demands.
"Oh Captain," he drawls with an elegant gesture. "Just having a look around." He responds elusively.
Bruce's attention, though, is riveted to Jack before he can finish. "Bruce, help me get Wesley set up. And then," he looks back at me with a grin. "We'll finally dispose of these two and start our work."
Lydia: Finally got your lovely note! I think ffnet hates me because it's been rather pesky with me lately! Thank you Lydia :) I was so out of inspiration for a day while I was catching up on Royal Pains and then I was tutoring (which always drains my mental energy). Listen, do you watch Royal Pains?
Mels: Sorry darling! Here you go. Don't want you to be antsy! I hope that this doesn't make you antsier! Oh goodness - no we would not want martin or you or anyone to go into PC withdrawal after this one hits the end. But, ugh what would I write about - the picards on the Enterprise? Jean Luc and Beverly falling in love? Tons of angst, then resolution, and the plenty of sex and adventure? Hmm. I could do it but it would be such a slow process because third med starts in two weeks and look at how long this young'in took! This out of control TOME.
Martinator: Man oh man! I think you might have to come to Galway and like force me to write. I got slightly addicted to the show Duck Dynasty the other day and then ffnet wouln't let me log on... It's been a temperamental few days. Let me put it that way... Are you going to go into withdrawal when the story ends? Mels is under the impression that I am going to have to IV-line you with more PC story lines :). I'm flattered that you like my story so much. It has been a fun little summer saga, eh?
Meg: Is Paris bad though? I don't know... I'll have to keep you guessing on that one... hmmm? I can't wait to hear your predictions for this chapter. I still need to work out a scene for you in the later chapters - you know the ones that we all like. And then I'll dedicate it to you as my final act of PCness.
Maximillion: Agh! I don't know. I think that I am flat out of PC inspiration after this one goes in the complete bin. A lot of people want me to write something with the Picards on the Enterprise... I don't know. Perhaps in the future when my inspiration comes back... hmmm? I'm going to need ideas though for that one.
Linds: Because you begged and I was due for a new chapter. Seriously, though, Duck Dynasty is amazing. I don't know how in the name of God they eat that shyte but it's fun to watch. But goodness gracious can you even imagine skinning those frogs? I would have a heart attack.