The BLTS Archive- Not Like This
by Martha McDonnell (marsta@geocities.com)

---

Disclaimer: Guess what!  Paramount did not write this!  I did, but I
mean no copyright infringement whatsoever.  Please leave my name and
this header attached, as the parts that aren’t Paramount’s *are* mine.

All constructive criticism is not only appreciated, but craved.
Flames, however, are not welcome at all, so don’t even ponder sending
any, please.  This is a very different type of story than I usually
write (i.e. sad), so I’m anxious to hear any comments!

---

'And here I am, lying here, dying,' she observed, oddly dispassionate.
'It's almost like I'm out of my body -- I've heard that it's sometimes
like this -- I can see everything going on around me, the blood, the
screams, the smoke, I can see myself, my own body, lying here,
twisted, broken, amid the heaps of mangled metal.  My uniform is slick
with blood.  That's going to be awfully hard for somebody to get off.

Let's see, what's wrong with me, I should know this.  The shard of
metal entered my chest, ripped it open. Massive bleeding of the
pericardial artery, internal hemorrhaging, half my ribs broken at
least.  My leg is twisted so strangely, half under me -- it must be
broken.  My arm is too, the wrist snapped.  It hurt, o God, it hurt so
badly, but now there's almost no pain.  I've gone into shock you see.

Everything around me seems so unreal.  The hazy bodies moving in and
out of the smoke which is still curling up, remnants of the explosion. 
I wonder if they'll find me soon.  Me. Can that really be me, that
woman lying there, her face so pale, so peaceful, her hair matted with
blood from the gash on her forehead?  I don't look like that.  Oh, but
I guess I do now, because, of course, I'm dying.

Is this how it's all to end?  I really don't want to die. There's so
much more, there could be so much more time.  I'm not ready.  How can
this be happening to me?  I'm Beverly Howard Crusher, I can't die, I
never die.  I've never died before anyway.  I really don't want to. 
Can you hear me?  Don't take me now, I want to stay. I haven't done
everything yet!  This has never happened to me before, you know.  I'm
... I'm frightened.

Look, somebody's running madly through the ruins,  calling ... calling
my name!  Although it's distant and hazy and slow.   Who is calling
me?  Is it death?  But no, that's not death, that's --'

The world snapped back into focus, and she was back in her body again,
the roar of the world returned, everything tangible.  And there he
was, next to her.

"Jean-Luc," she murmured.  He was saying something, what was he
saying?

"Ohgodohgodohgodohgodohnoohbeverly," he was repeating over and over
under his breath.

Her eyes fluttered, in an effort to focus on his face.  She turned her
head slightly.  She was vaguely aware that he was holding her hand,
the hand that wasn't broken, almost the only part of her that wasn't
broken or bleeding.

"Beverly--" his face was wet with tears, crumpled in anguish. She
didn't like it, hated seeing him in pain.  Struggling, she reached up
the hand he was holding to brush against his cheek.

"Jean-Luc," she murmured again, wanting to relieve his suffering, but
unable to say more.

"Oh, god, Beverly, don't leave me," he whispered.  "You can't, you
can't go, I need you.  I need you so badly.  You're -- you're
everything to me.  I can't go on without you."  His voice broke.

She caressed his cheek ever so gently with two fingers.  "Jean-Luc, I
-- it's pretty bad, Jean-Luc," she whispered, her voice tinged with
grief.  "I don't know if I can help it, this time."

He closed his eyes, struggling to hold back the onslaught of anguish
that threatened to break through to the surface.

"I love you," she whispered, suddenly.  "More than you could ever
know."

His eyes flew open, a thousand questions in them.

She tried to nod, but couldn't, answering him with her eyes only.

"You really do, don't you," he whispered, wonder in his voice. "You
love me."

He looked up at her, into her eyes.

"I love you, too," he said, his voice suddenly firm.  "I love you so
much, gods Beverly, I could never describe it.  How much you mean to
me. You're my friend, my best friend -- but oh, so much more."

Despite her best efforts, her breathing was growing ragged with the
pain, the world beginning to grow dark around the edges.  She focused
on his eyes, as hard as she could.  She had always loved his eyes,
been fascinated by them.  No matter what kind of a facade he put on,
she could always tell by looking into his eyes what his mood was,
whether he was angry or upset or hurt, or teasing, or happy.

Maybe he saw the shadow fall across her face, or was suddenly aware of
her rasping breath, but he suddenly stopped speaking, drawing in his
breath sharply.

"This ... this can't happen," he muttered.  "It can't end this way.
It's not *supposed* to.  Not like this."

Her heart ached for him more than anything.  Despite all excuses, she
*was* the one who was going away, leaving him alone to fend for
himself.

"Jean-Luc," she whispered, speech harder than ever.  "Keep ... keep
going.  For me.  Don't close yourself off.  Stay ..." she gasped as
the pain became more intense.  "Stay in the land of the living. And
never forget what you meant to me ... despite all the trouble, my life
would have been so less rich without you."  She struggled to smile.
"You have my heart, always and forever."

She grew silent then, struggling harder to fight off the shadows
dancing at the edges of her vision.  Dragging her attention back to
the world, she focused again on his face above her, realized he was
struggling not to cry again.

She could feel them coming now, the shadows getting closer, dragging
her away.  She wanted to either cry or scream, but found she could do
neither.  She felt unutterably lonely.

"I'm glad ... I'm glad the last thing I see will be your face," she
whispered, so softly he had to strain to hear her.  She felt his tears
dripping warmly and silently onto her face, her forehead.

His mouth was forming shapes but no sound was coming out.  He seemed
to be whispering one word over and over -- 'Nonononononono.'       
The world grew dimmer, farther away.  She couldn't muster the strength
to say anything, now, but she forced her lips to form the words.

'I love you.'

The last thing she saw was his mouth mirroring the words back.

Then a gentle warmth enveloped, her, there was a bright light, from
somewhere.  Jean-Luc's warm grip on her hand, the last thing she had
of the outside world seemed to disappear and she slipped quietly and
willingly into the sweet darkness ...

---

The End