Be My Hero 
by astraplain@yahoo.com


They were bound, hand and foot, and locked in a dark 
humid cell.  Just outside the door their captors were 
discussing their fate.  They couldn't hear everything 
being said, and the universal translator could 
process even less of the garbled conversation.  
Still, it didn't take a linguist to realize that the 
discussion was not in their favor.

Damn Starfleet shuttlecraft anyway, she muttered for 
the twenty-seventh time.  If she and Jean-Luc lived 
through this it would be a cold day on Venerabb 
before she climbed into one of those vehicles again.  
Every time she tried to go somewhere in one it either 
crashed or got blown out of space.

Next time she'd take her vacation on the holodeck!

"Stop muttering; I want to hear." Jean-Luc whispered.  
She turned to look at him, restricted by the rope 
that bound her.  The brute that had carried her from 
the shuttle wreckage had dropped onto her back with 
her hands under her.  She hadn't felt her hands for 
hours now and her arms were quite numb too.  Even her 
hair hurt.

Jean-Luc was watching her, she could tell even in the 
blackness that surrounded them.  She could picture 
his concerned yet calm expression, the flecks of 
color softening his hazel eyes.  The tiny hairs on 
his chin betraying the fact that he hadn't shaved 
this morning.  They'd been too busy trying not to 
crash the ship.

What she wouldn't give for some modern conveniences - 
like a bathroom.

She'd stopped minding the foul odors worse that 
filled their cell.  Still, her stomach kept 
rebelling.  She tried to shift closer to Jean-Luc, 
seeking reassurance in his presence and his scent.  
Even bloody and sweat soaked she loved the smell of 
him.  It was one of the things she savored the most 
about him since they had become lovers.  She could 
bask in his presence for eternity and never want 
another thing.

"How is your head?" he whispered, trying to shift 
onto his side to be closer to her. 

"Better," she replied.  "I think the bleeding's 
stopped.  How's your leg?"

"Doesn't hurt a bit," he replied, stretching the 
truth.  Second degree plasma burns didn't hurt a bit, 
they hurt *a lot.*  But, there was no way he was 
going to burden her with the unvarnished truth.  The 
injuries she had sustained in the crash were far 
worse than his.

He scooted a litter closer to her, moving onto his 
side.  She managed to roll onto her side as well, 
facing him, mere centimeters apart. 

His mouth found hers by pure instinct.

*****

An indefinite amount of time passed and they slept.  
Beverly woke feeling fuzzier and more queasy than 
before.  Whatever their captors decided she hoped 
they did it before she embarrassed herself in front 
of Jean-Luc.

"Beverly, are you...?"

Heavy footsteps silenced Jean-Luc's questions.  There 
was the scrape of an old fashioned key in a lock and 
then a squeaking of rusty hinges and a blast of 
cooler air.  Torch light brightened the room and 
temporarily blinded the captives.  Once again Beverly 
cursed Starfleet shuttlecrafts and the engineers who 
designed them.  If it weren't for them, she and Jean-
Luc would be doing lovely unspeakable things to each 
other in a luxury hotel on Craav; not stuck here on 
this primitive pit of a world that thought they were 
sky demons.  She really wasn't happy.

"Up!" The guard demanded, prodding Beverly with his 
foot.  She could smell him even over the foul stench 
of this cell.  He was filthy and hairy and the feel 
of his hand on her arm, dragging her roughly to her 
feet was enough to make her nearly loose her last 
meal.  The change in altitude made her dizzy and she 
swayed against her captor.

He grinned at her and moved his hand to an 
inappropriate location.

"Unhand her!" Jean-Luc demanded, trying to gain his 
feet.  It was hopeless, what with his feet being tied 
together, so he settled for kicking the ruffian with 
all his might.  "Let her go!"  The guard just laughed 
and dragged Beverly away. Seconds later another guard 
entered the room and dragged Jean-Luc out of the 
cell.

Beverly was there already, hands still tied but feet 
now free, the same as him.  Jean-Luc could see the 
dried blood matting her hair from the injuries she 
received during the crash.  It made him angry and he 
struggled against his captor. There were only two 
others in the room right now, obviously some kind of 
a primitive courtroom.  If they could just...

One of the other guards closed in on Beverly, eyeing 
her in a manner that made Jean-Luc's blood boil.  One 
filthy hand reached out for her lovely heaving 
breast.  She tried to move away only to be stopped by 
the two other guards. 

"NO!" Jean-Luc threw himself at the nearest man, 
pushing him away from Beverly and sending him 
sprawling.  The other two guards tried to restrain 
him only to be outwitted when he lowered his head and 
rammed into the one guard's midriff, knocking him 
back into the other and sending the two of them to 
the floor in a heap. 

Without speaking, the two officers ran from the room 
as swiftly as they could.  They took the first flight 
of steps and after trying four or five rooms they 
finally found a storage room of sorts.  There were 
bits of old pottery here and some cloth and tools.  
There was a broken spear with enough edge on it's 
point to saw through their bonds.

Circulation restored to their limbs, they carefully 
emerged and raced for what they hoped was an exit.  
Nearly there, they were cut off from their escape by 
the three guards they had escaped from along with 
four more guards coming from the opposite direction.

It was clear they were outmatched before the battle 
began.  Jean-Luc risked one look at Beverly.  His 
Beverly.  He had waited far too long to claim her to 
lose her to these neanderthals.  He would sell 
himself dearly to protect her from the filthy paws of 
these beasts.

Placing himself in front of her he tried to place her 
back to the wall for protection.  The guards were on 
them at once.  Jean-Luc fought like a man possessed.  
Beverly marveled at his heroism.

'He's so brave,' she thought while delivering a 
stinging blow to one guard's midsection.  'What 
strength.' She hammered a guard, knocking him flat. 
'What courage.'  She felt a bit like Roxanne talking 
to Cyrano for a moment.  She caught one guard in the 
groin and he folded in half with an interesting 
shriek.  'What bravery.' One of her earlier attackers 
came back for more and she replied with a chop to the 
side of his neck. 

A fist caught Jean-Luc a glancing blow to the 
shoulder and he spun around and hit the wall.  As he 
fell, his last though was for Beverly and how he must  
protect her.

"Jean-Luc!" she shrieked watching as her beloved fell 
under the merciless onslaught of four guards.  She 
felt herself filled with rage in a way she had never 
experienced before.  Using all of the techniques she 
had learned from Worf as well as a few dance moves 
she whirled and turned among the guards, Knocking one 
after another to the ground moaning or unconscious. 

That was the sight that greeted Will Riker and the 
away team moments later.  Jean-Luc was conscious and 
standing again.  He was holding Beverly against his 
chest and comforting her. 

"What happened?" Riker asked, surveying the damage 
with interest.  Beverly looked up into his eyes. 

"Jean-Luc saved me."  Beverly replied.  She smiled 
once before her rebellious stomach finally won.

*****

Hours later, injuries healed and bodies clean they 
snuggled together in Beverly's bed.  She savored the 
feel of his skin against hers, resting her head 
against his bare chest.  When she was sure he was 
sleeping soundly, she slipped out of bed and tiptoed 
into the day area.  Moving carefully she slipped the 
package out of its hiding place and set it on the 
table.

In the morning Jean-Luc discovered a brightly wrapped 
package with his name on it and a note:

To My Hero,

Thank you for the rescue.  Sorry about the shoes.

Love,
Beverly

Inside the package was a brand new pair of shoes.


The End