The BLTS Archive- Broken
by Glitterchicauk (glitterchicauk@yahoo.co.uk)

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You grasp at his hands, wishing that simple touch could hold him
there.

You taste salt and realise you are crying. Your shoulders shake and
you look up, praying that whatever Gods exist will hear you.

In your mind, you know it's too late. The battle is already lost, the
damage done.

His eyes look at you, trying to hide the agony that lies behind them
but failing. You see it.

You always saw it.

He's fighting it, he's trying... so hard. But it's not enough.

His lips move but the words are barely audible.

"I... love... you."

He's saying his goodbye. He knows it too.

"I love you too."

You want to tell him to fight it, tell him he better not even try
leaving you but you know that some things even he can't change.

The moment before it happens you feel it, in your heart. You know in
that instant things have changed forever.

His hand drops away from you and those blue eyes that once promised
you forever slip closed.

You hear a noise and it's only when the Captain pulls you back into
his arms you realise its you, screaming.

"No... "

He rocks you, holding your head to his chest to prevent you from
turning your head back around, trying to shield you from seeing the
man you love lying battered... dead on the biobed.

It's too late. The image will forever be burned into your mind, the
day your world fell apart, leaving you nothing but broken shards of a
life that made you happy.

You look at his face as the doctor pulls a sheet over his head. No
more sparkling eyes as he teases you, no more kisses from that soft
mouth. No more feeling his cheek next to yours when he holds you.

No more him.

The tears increase in intensity when you realise that it truly is
over. No last minute reprieve or miracle to save him. No
groundbreaking medical procedure that would give him back to you, give
him back to everyone that loves him.

Just an eternity knowing he's gone, that all the plans you made will
never come to pass.

More arms now, wanting to provide comfort.

The best friend, his grief apparent, offering you what little strength
he has left. He's trying to put you back together, ignoring the
obvious fact that you're broken beyond repair.

The emotionless statue, handing you a tissue and telling you she is
sorry for your loss, that he will be missed.

You're ushered out of the room but you manage one last look at the
still form you leave behind, covered with a sterile white sheet.

And then the reality hits you again like a sledgehammer.

Commander Charles Tucker the Third is dead.

And you, Hoshi Sato? You're just barely holding on.

---

The End