“I want to lie.” Those were the first words out of Phoebe’s mouth when Jason asked how everything was. “I want to tell you everything is fine and I’m doing ok.”

Doctor Phoebe Andrianakis was back on Earth, where she’d been training to become a Starfleet Medic since the beginning of April.  As a qualified doctor working with the World Health Organisation and later aboard the MRT Atragon; before being seconded to the USS Jaxartes in February of last year, as a Civilian doctor working alongside the ships EMH; her knowledge of treating and caring for patients was high.  There were however rules and regulation to be learned if she ever wanted to serve on a starship in the future.

They had not exactly parted under the most cordial of circumstances.  A bond of friendship and trust, developed and strengthened over roughly a year fraught with danger, had been severely dented by the knowledge that Jason had lied and withheld information from her.

The knowledge that she was the daughter of a member of the Q Continuum had come as a huge shock.  All those strange dreams and the fact she’d never once been ill in 29 years of life, had suddenly made sense.  Her life had never been her own.  The invisible hands of fate had guiding her to one epic and unavoidable battle.

She’d won, but at the cost of her own life.  The Q however does not treat life and death in the same way as others.  Phoebe had been given a choice of either joining her father in the Continuum or living as a mere mortal as it was put.  Her choice had been the later, and she still wasn’t sure why.

As a member of the Continuum she could have helped so many people and saved so many lives; but that wasn’t how it worked.  Those who had meddled with the lives of humans and other races in the past had simply created new problems, whilst solving the old ones.  No, with great power came great responsibility and a greater chance of abusing that power.  Phoebe hadn’t felt ready for that kind of responsibility.

Jason for his part knew all too well, about being part of something bigger, though the Borg collective could in no way be compared to the Q, it had still made him more than he was now.

So there they were staring at each other on monitor screens, across the vastness of space.  Both of them; trying to find the words; the right ones, or at least any words at all.

“I don’t regret keeping things from you.” He finally told her. “I was protecting you, at least I thought so.”

“What right did you have?”  She’d asked him that question before, and knew how much the words stung him.  Did she want to hurt him?  Yes, no, may be, damn it was so complicated.

“I’m sorry.” Devron’s head dipped, shoulders slumped in defeat.

She could see the pain etched into his features. Defying orders had potentially saved countless lives, however it had cost him overall command.  The USS Grus may have been a bigger ship, but Jason was back to being a First Officer.  So many others that had graduated at around the same time as he had or in some cases afterwards, had been granted command of their own vessels, mostly aboard the work-horses of the Fleet, the California-Class; but it was a command never the less.

He’d had his chance to shine, an opportunity to showcase his skills.  Those days seemed long gone; now he had to start again and prove himself worthy of the big chair once more.

“I thought you might have come to Earth during this leave they’re given the Fleet?”  Phoebe said softly.  “I’m sure your brother would have loved to see you.”

Yes his brother, or at least half-brother, they sharing the same father.  They shared more than that though, and it was part of a secret so few knew about.  She knew, Jason had told her everything.  He needed to trust someone; he needed her to trust him.

“I’d considered it.” Jason replied.  “I’ve considered an awful lot of things.”

“Are you ok?” Anger had turned to concern.

“That’s rather a leading question.” Jason scoffed.  “When was I ever, ok?”

“When you felt that you mattered.” Phoebe answered. “You still matter.”

In a way the Greek doctor was right, at least with the first part.  Did he need to matter; did he need to feel wanted and important?  Was obscurity like a noose around his neck?  Not everyone was destined to become a hero or a legend.  Was he too big a risk taker?”

“I miss you.” He said it out of the blue, both knowing it was true and regretting he’d said it the moment the words past his lips.

She missed him to, but wasn’t sure how to answer, so all Phoebe said in response was. “I know.”

Another long awkward silence followed, each one of them looking down at their hands as if they’d discover some inspiration from them.

“Can we start over?” Jason asked in a half whisper.  “At least as friends.”

“If that’s what you want.” He reply sounded so noncommittal

When they finally said their goodbyes and ended the communication; Jason Devron was still not 100% sure where stood in this whole mess of a situation.  He looked around his officers’ quarters aboard the USS Grus where he’d returned to, just for somewhere private whilst he spoke to Phoebe.

On the two shelves behind his desk were reminders of some of missions and patrols he’d been on.  There was an Orion manufactured disrupter seized from one of Navaar Orci crew when they attempted to hijack the  ‘Jax’, next to a Jem’Hadar Kar’takin from Sierra Six Delta Two Zero Four Eight Dash Three, which had belonged to one of the many warrior who had fallen there. On the shelf above sat a Devore weapon and a small section of hull plating from the ship destroyed in ‘Underspace’.  Technically they weren’t responsible for the destruction of the warship, but the chances of them encountering any of them again in the future seemed slim, as did facing the Vaadwaur now that the apertures had hopefully been sealed for good.  It was a section of a fighter that graced the room. Final there was a dagger from the Pelcaza, gifted in honour of them saving so many of their people from Helgeshran.

Each of them held a memory and told a story, of how he and his fellow crewmembers had made it this far despite all the odd.

Jason sat reflecting on everything that had happened in the last year or so, before establishing a link with a small care home situated on the island of Guernsey.

“Hello, it’s me.”