You Shouldn't Remember Him Like This by Astra "You shouldn't remember him like this." The words echoed in her ears, mocking her with the old meaning and the new. *Damn him!* Would she never be free of ghosts? She'd made it through the meeting with Tarmin and the solicitous concern of her staff; now all she wanted was to be left alone. Unfortunately, memories were far harder to turn away then her well-intentioned friends. Even Jean-Luc. He'd come to sickbay, to accompany her to the meeting, naturally, but it had really been to assure himself that she was indeed whole and unharmed. *If only he knew.* She thought ironically. Not that she would ever tell him. Their relationship was fragile enough without telling him this. *Far too fragile.* she reminded herself. But who could she tell? *Deanna? No, she was suffering enough after Jev's assault. She was in no shape to hear this. Alyssa? No, Alyssa was a friend, a good friend, but she wasn't someone you could tell this to. No one was. No one but... * She stopped that thought quick, not liking the direction it was taking. *Yes, we've shared things in the past. But I couldn't... not this. I could never tell him this.* Shrouded in isolation she felt cold, a bone aching cold that made her tremble, just as she had trembled at his touch. Images and sensations filled her mind, uncontrollable, their cruel intensity leaving her quaking. Steeling herself, she tried remembering the reality of that scene, opening herself to the memory she'd spent twenty years trying to bury. She couldn't do it. The reality, what she promised herself was true, refused to come, overwhelmed by the feel of his hand, his breath, his hardness against her. His words and mocking laughter filled her ears. "You shouldn't remember him like this." But she did. She did remember. And it wasn't Jack's face she could no longer picture clearly it was Jean- Luc's. In her mind, the reality had become that twisted, leering visage and mocking voice. This man who took pleasure in her pain. She balled her hands into fists, clenched tight enough to hurt. *Jev* she told herself, *It was Jev.* But, no matter how hard she tried, she could not picture Jev in the scene. Only Jean-Luc. Hurting her. Shutting off her thoughts she rose from the chair and walked to the window, staring out at the darkness, pierced by brittle starlight. She found no comfort in the sight. She never had. It was cold out there, cold and deadly, and death was her sworn enemy. Before today it had been her only enemy. Now she had two. ::: end :::