Fiery Hot and icy cold - two dichotomously uncomfortable extremes to be experienced at once. I feel warmth pulsing through my body – the kind that blazes, fizzles, and then settles out only to begin another tortuous cycle a second later. And then there's the cold sweat that's pooled on my lower back, just above my trousers. I'm not a stranger to this type of awareness; it comes often when uncertainly presents itself. I can remember feeling like this before my board exams. I remember this terribly succession churning almost constantly before Wesley was born. I was terrified about being his mother – would I be a good parent to him? Would he grow up to be a good person? And I remember it again, more recently, before Saoirse was born – when we learned about her heart defect. But now, in this eerily suffocating room the sensation returns to gnaw at me with a new and unprecedented ferocity.

Wesley still has his back turned, seemingly ignoring us. I watch him carefully, his hands still move at a hurried pace, as though he has a specific mission. Seemingly, he's carrying out Jack's instructions – being complaint. Foolishly, we never talked about any of this. We assumed that our mission would be clear-cut. We all assumed that Owen Paris would be faithful; after all, his demeanor at the house had almost completely convinced me of his integrity and his desire for redemption.

"Well, Doctor, Captain," Maddox's abnormally thin lips curl into wily smile. "This way, please." He nods at the men holding as he heads toward the doors.

I take on last look back as I'm pushed forward by the men on either side of me. Why, Wesley? Why aren't you paying attention? Something's wrong, I think. Terribly wrong – unless he knows something I don't. My gaze sweeps to Jean Luc as my eyes travel back to the path in front of me; he's completely calm. While the blood in my arteries boils with uncertainty and sheer terror at what I can only imagine is my death – an exquisitely painful one if Jack Crusher designed it – Jean Luc is serene, completely nonchalant as though he were taking a walk through our garden.

Unconsciously I struggle against the restraints binding my hands and arms. The force of the large hand confining my upper bicep tightens, perceptibly leading to a bruise. The cold marble corridor opens to us again and ushers us into the cool solitude. Heels click and echo off the solid green walls. I can hear my own breath as I try to calm myself.

That coy smile adorning those slender hasn't moved. "Don't be so nervous, Doctor. Jack tells me you've been here bef-"

In the blink of an eye, phaser fire erupts, lighting the dark halls. Maddox falls immediately before the men on either side of us drop as well – all stunned, none of them dead.

"Jean Luc, Beverly!" A familiar husky voice resonates off of the green wall marble. Before I can register what's just happened, a flash of auburn draws me back to Kathryn's small form rushing towards us.

"Kathryn?" I look beside her with even more disbelief. "Chakotay?"

"Beverly," Jean Luc looks back to me, easily breaking his meager restraints, before reaching under his shirt and taking out the smaller weapon he concealed earlier this evening.

"Take this," Kathryn bends down stripping the phasers from the guard's holsters and slapping it quickly into my hand.

"What?" My hand automatically grasps the heavy firearm as my eyes trail the three of them in disbelief.

A warm hand grasps my upper arms. "Beverly," his warm voice pulls me from a shocked stupor. "We've got to go. Are you alright?"

"Mmm," I look at him and nod imperceptibly as a tiny grin implants itself on my face. So he did have a plan. But why the hell wouldn't he have told me?

"We've got to get back," he looks back down the hall we came from. "To Jack and Wesley."

An urgency takes over and I'm shaken from my stupor. "Wesley," I repeat following his gaze down the corridor, landing on the doors we came from.

He starts running, but I pull him back. "Jean Luc," my voice finds its footing. "What's going on?"

"I'll explain later," he starts moving again. "We've got to go."

"Beverly," I feel a small hand on my shoulder. Kathryn moves close to me and smiles, "I'm sorry about all of this."

All of what? "Kathryn," I slow my gait. "What's going on?"

"We wanted to make it believable," She replies ambiguously as she picks up her pace, causing even me to have to scurry in order to keep up with her purposeful pace. "Let's just hope," She eyes me as her husband takes her free hand. "That this is the end of it."

Apologies lads! I've been busy writing letters to residency programs (eek!). Anyhow, glad you're all still nagging me. Makes me feel loved.

Thanks to Martin, Linds, Tiffany, Sasha, and Debby (You know who you are) for all the reminders. ;) I'll respond to ye in my next chapter.