Memory, My Enemy
by Astra <astraplain@yahoo.com 

It was over.  

The Enterprise was leaving the Ullians and their 
counselors behind, heading off to a new assignment.  

"Time to move on." they had told her, "to get on with 
your life."

They didn't know, they couldn't know what they were 
asking.

She had been very careful in her counseling sessions, 
years of having an empath for a friend finally paying 
off.  She had said the right things, done the right 
things, cooperated as fully as she was able.  They 
had believed the whole act.  

If only she could fool herself as easily.

It had been days since she'd even tried sleeping in 
her bed, surviving instead on the snatches of 
exhausted, dreamless slumber that claimed her as she 
worked in her quarters each night.  It would take 
it's toll eventually; she knew that.  But for now, 
there was no other alternative.

She couldn't bear to see those memories replayed over 
and over again in her mind.  Better to distract 
herself with anything, whatever it took, than to let 
those false images return unchecked in her 
nightmares. 

But return they did, night after night, day after 
day, as she remained in solitude.  She distanced 
herself from her friends, knowing that they too were 
suffering, and where sharing their pain might help 
them, it would only worsen hers.  

How could they know, how could she tell them that 
every memory she possessed, the sweet, the bitter, 
the poignant, even the small silly ones were all 
tainted by one thing; Jean-Luc.  Jev had not been 
content to force her to remember the worst moments of 
her life.  He had not been content to make her 
believe Jean-Luc had assaulted her in the morgue next 
to Jack's corpse.  Even that had not been enough to 
satisfy his need for vengeance.  She had dared oppose 
him and he had made her suffer in ways that her 
friends couldn't even imagine.  

Which is why she hadn't seen Jean-Luc in three days.

At first he had left her alone, struggling to do as 
the counselor's had asked and allow her time to heal.  
Then she had refused his invitations to breakfasts 
and dinners, claiming fatigue or work, or whatever 
excuse first came to her mind.  He respected her 
wishes and left her alone.

He never suspected she couldn't stop seeing him in 
her mind.

But the Jean-Luc of her memory was cruel and hurtful, 
that image over powering every rememberance she had 
of the man, tainting even the most innocent of 
recollections.  And that taint had spread to infect 
her memories of Jack, and Walker, and finally even 
Wesley.  Growing and spreading so that there was no 
instance of her past that was not affected by it.

For hours she sat, in the darkness of her rooms, 
remembering, searching, struggling to correct the 
damage Jev had done.  She had failed, but still she 
searched.  

She found it by accident, starting as it did with the 
sting of an envious Jean-Luc.  He had been so envious 
of Odan, especially Odan in Will Riker's body, that 
he had not been able to maintain his usual diplomatic 
facade.  He had been graceless in ways that Beverly 
had never seen before, and far more possessive than 
their current relationship gave him the right to be, 
no matter what they might feel for each other.  But 
that envy was her saving grace.

The memory of that envious Jean-Luc had been what Jev 
wanted, and he hadn't bothered to alter it.  That one 
oversight gave Beverly the lifeline she needed.  With 
that memory came the recollection of love and 
affection, a sweet soothing remberance in the midst 
of so much distortion and anger.  And at it's center 
was Will Riker.

He had risked everything to host Odan, his life, his 
sense of self, even control of his body.  All of it 
had been subordinated to the will of the Trill host.  
It was not something Will Riker did easily, giving up 
control.  But he had done it, and part of it had been 
for her.  Allthough he had never admitted it, she 
knew.

That one memory was her lifeline, opening up other 
memories of Will, his holding her, comforting her, 
and she comforting him.  It was the first time in 
days she remembered any tenderness from a man.  It 
was the first time in days that she knew the memory 
was truly hers.                

And that was why, when her door chime sounded, she 
let him in.

::: end:::