And I feel it like a sickness how this love is killing me I walk into the fingers of your fire willingly We dance the edge of sanity; I've never been this close I'm in love with your ghost --Indigo Girls, Ghost

When she heard the banging on her front door, she was certain it was nothing but the product of her fevered imagination, but the noise continued and then, suddenly, Ronin was gone, both his body and his touch in her mind. She hurried to pull on a robe and went down to open the door.

It was Governor Maturin. "I got a request from Starfleet to look for you. A Commander Troi has been trying to reach you for days." He noticed that she did not invite him inside, but he pushed his way past her into the vestibule.

"I haven't had a chance to enable the comm console," Beverly explained. "There's been so much to do here." She smiled sweetly, falsely, it seemed to him.

Maturin had passed the house a few times in the past months, and had to admit that Dr. Crusher had done an amazing job of getting the house back in shape. But he was no Scotsman, and like all the members of his species, he had an extraordinary olfactory sense--he knew that Beverly Crusher had busier playing house than housekeeping.

For the first time he took a good look at her, and noticed the bruises on her face, legs, and the small part of her chest which was on display. "You're hurt."

One of her hands clutched at her robe, the other began to dance over her lips. "I...I fell." She nodded as though to reassure him (or herself?) that this was the truth. "The other night. You remember the storm? It was so dark, and it's been so long since I lived here." She rambled, and the governor recalled how, on her last visit to Caldos, she had also seemed far too high strung and irrational to be such a trusted Starfleet officer or to be the level-headed Felisa Howard's granddaughter. "I...God, I feel so stupid...I tripped and fell down the stairs."

"You should see a doctor. You may have broken something."

"I am a doctor, Governor. Nothing is broken but my pride. Now, if you'll excuse me, I really have to start my day." She dismissed him abruptly, leaning on the open door to emphasize her meaning.

"Of course, Doctor. I hope you'll take the time to set up your console. Your friend was quite concerned." He walked out, evaluating all he had seen and surmised. Beverly Crusher had a lover, of that he was certain; he could smell it on her. And those bruises did not come from falling down the stairs. They also were not three days old; they hadn't even gotten a chance to discolor. Why would she lie? He thought of her last visit, and remembered that there had been some unpleasantness, including the murder of Ned Quint. If Felisa Howard's granddaughter wanted to hide from her friends, that was no concern of Maturin's. If she wanted to build herself a love nest and play violent games, that was her own business. But he was damned if her presence would again cost a colonist his life.

Back in his office, he placed a call to Starfleet. "Get me Captain Picard," he ordered the young ensign who greeted him. "It's about Beverly Crusher."

That Jean-Luc Picard did not want to talk to anyone about Beverly Crusher was crystal clear to the hapless ensign that delivered the governor's message. By the time the captain finished his verbal rampage, it was also clear to half of the people in the building. The fact that this behavior was so unlike the gentleman captain did not make it any easier on the ensign. By the time she was dismissed, she was nearly trembling.

Picard watched her go, immediately regretting his behavior. It wasn't her fault; it was just one of those little cosmic ironies that he'd been assigned a tall slender red head. He almost called her back to apologize, then stopped himself when realized that he couldn't be sure he wouldn't go off on another tirade. Leave it Beverly to reduce him to this.

Damn her.

He hadn't even known she'd gone until Deanna appeared in his office one day asking for her. The counselor had gone to Beverly's apartment and found it empty. It took forty-five minutes of Starfleet red tape to find out she'd taken a leave of absence - length undetermined, present location unknown.

She'd made no effort to tell him she was leaving, so he had made no effort to find her. But now he knew. She'd gone to Caldos. But why was the governor calling? What had she done now? Broken another heart? Driven yet another man to destruction? Well, that was her problem.

He almost made the call anyway, curiosity burning away at his resolve, but at the last second he'd stopped himself. She's left without so much as a word to him. Let the governor go somewhere else to discuss Beverly Crusher.

On his third try, the governor changed tactics. Picard did not strike him as anything less than thorough. No, he hadn't overlooked the previous calls, the captain had deliberately chosen not to respond. Governor Maturin had no intention of letting the matter rest. Beverly Crusher was Starfleet's problem and, as far as he was concerned, Picard was Starfleet. And he was going to take this call.

The governor hadn't lived among the most stubborn people in the galaxy without learning to be stubborn himself. He bullied his way past the ensign who looked relieved to not have to deliver another message about Beverly Crusher. By the time Picard appeared, the governor was ready to shove the whole matter into his lap.

"Captain Picard, so good of you to finally answer."

"What can I do for you, Governor?"

"You can get your Starfleet brass out here and find out what Beverly Crusher is up to."

"Dr. Crusher is on leave from Starfleet, Governor. She is not our responsibility."

"Well, you're the closest thing she's got to a nursemaid so you can very well get yourself to Caldos and find out what's going on."

"I don't understand. Has she done something wrong?"

"Not yet, Captain, but I won't have a repeat of the Ned Quint incident. I went to see her at Commander Troi's request and found her obviously involved in some unsavory activities. I won't have her posing a threat to another of my citizens."

Picard started to protest but Maturin cut him off. "You know, Captain, I never did request a formal investigation into Quint's death."

There was silence, and Picard knew he was defeated. Whatever his personal feelings for Beverly Crusher, he would not allow the governor to bring false accusations against her to Starfleet. He'd had enough of Starfleet legal proceedings to last a lifetime. And he would not wish the experience on anyone.

Damn her

"I am willing to postpone my request for an investigation if I have your word that you will personally look into the Crusher situation." Unhappily, Picard agreed. "Excellent. I will expect to see you in my office within the week, Captain. Maturin out."

Picard sat staring at the blank screen for a while. At last he turned away, tabbing his communicator. "Ensign, get me Admiral Calverston." Sitting back in his seat, he swore, "Damn her."

It took a full day to get his personal leave approved, and another 3 to travel to Caldos. Four days for the anger he felt towards Beverly Crusher to fester and grow.

Four days in which Beverly Crusher suffered, forced between agony and ecstasy until she felt nothing but the weakening of her spirit and the fear of never being a true Howard.

Four days in which Ronin molded Beverly to his will, secure in the belief that his actions would restore to them both the destiny she had nearly destroyed.

On day five, Jean-Luc Picard arrived on Caldos.

He was shown into the governor's office and began speaking as soon as he entered the room. "I'm here. Now what exactly has Dr. Crusher done?"

The governor rose, frowning at the captain's abrupt manner. A brief thought flashed through his mind wondering if the behavior of the captain and of Crusher were somehow connected.

"Have a seat, Captain. I will make this brief. I went to see Beverly at Commander Troi's request. I found her badly bruised. When I questioned her, she lied and said she'd fallen down the stairs." He paused a moment, putting aside his personal distaste for what he suspected were the cause of those bruises. Let the captain find out for himself. "I don't care what her reasons were for lying, Captain, but I suspect that she is engaging in activities that pose a threat to at least one of my citizens. I lost a good friend the last time she visited Caldos, Captain. I don't intend to lose anyone else."

"What exactly do you expect me to do, Governor? Beverly hasn't done anything illegal. Do you have any proof that she is doing something wrong?"

"What I want, Captain, is for you as a representative of Starfleet to protect the citizens of this planet from a possible threat. You had better get started."

Biting back his anger, the captain made one last attempt to reason with the governor. Whatever his personal feelings towards Beverly Crusher, she was a good officer and a damn fine doctor.

"Governor, may I remind you that Beverly Crusher was not responsible for Ned Quint's death. I will talk to her and if I find nothing amiss, as I'm sure I will, then I will leave. Good day, Governor."

And he was gone, leaving the governor more sure than ever that the captain and doctor were somehow linked.

The first thing Picard noticed when she opened the door was her clothing. It was well past noon and Beverly was still in her robe. The next thing he noticed was her hair. He had never seen her looking so unkempt. It all added up to one uncomfortable conclusion.

Damn her

He almost turned away, but stopped himself. Putting it off wouldn't make it any easier, and the sooner he got this over with, the sooner he could get off this planet and away from her. Brushing past her, he entered the house.

"Jean-Luc, what are you..."

"Governor Maturin dragged me out here with wild accusations about..." He broke off, stunned into silence at the sight of her. She flinched at his scrutiny and stepped back, drawing the robe tighter around her body. He stared, finally seeing the dark circles under her eyes and the pallor of her skin under the mottling of bruises both old and new.

"Mon Dieu, Beverly, what happened?"

She began to stammer something, but he cut her off in mid-explanation. "And don't tell me you fell down the stairs. I know you too well."

She sighed. "Of course, you're right. I just didn't want to get involved with the governor...Why did he call you?"

He hadn't expected her to ever let him into the house, and yet she was speaking as if their recent past had never occurred, as though they were still on the best of terms. Well, he wasn't so ready to forgive and forget. He brushed aside her question and repeated his own.

"You know, I really did fall down the stairs," she insisted, not adding the reason for her fall--a push from Ronin when she was being particularly recalcitrant. "Well, the truth is that I haven't been feeling well lately. I get dizzy; I fall." She rubbed the knuckles of her hand, and he noticed cuts on them, odd on a woman who had always valued her hands so highly as one source of her skills. "And don't tell me to go see a doctor. I can handle myself perfectly well. If you think this is bad, you should have seen me last week."

"Governor Maturin saw you."

"Oh." It was a small sound, a hopelessly lost sound, and he almost gave in, but not quite.

"So you're all right then?"

"Yes, fine," she assured him. "Well on the road to recovery."

"Then I'll take my leave."

Most of her wanted nothing better than to see Jean-Luc Picard walk out the door and never return. Part of her knew that if he walked out, she would lose her one chance to escape Ronin. "Wait. It's a long ride from Earth. At least let me make you some breakfast."

"I ate several hours ago, thank you."

"Then tea! Something..." He wasn't sure if she really was pleading or if he imagined it because he so wanted to hear it. He nodded.

She went to put on the kettle and then announced she would take a few minutes to change. He told her to take her time; shower, even, if she wanted to, he would mind the kettle. He wondered how long it had been since she'd dressed last. Or combed her hair. Or bathed. He wondered about Maturin's accusations, and about what sort of "nefarious" activities she could engage in looking like a Klingon fashion model.

She rushed up the stairs to make herself presentable. The part of her which still believed in old history tried to believe that Jean-Luc had come to rescue her; the part which remembered her own behavior knew he had not. It didn't matter, though, she thought as she entered the bathroom, just seeing him gave her new resolve.

She ran the shower, adjusting the old-fashioned knobs to get the right temperature. She shed her robe and stepped in for the first time in a week, enjoying the way the water sloughed off the dirt, the aches, and the memory of Ronin's touch.

The water felt good, running down her hair, her back, her breasts. So good. Too good. Over the past days she had become expert in recognizing Ronin's touch. Sometimes she wondered if she wasn't avoiding the merging he claimed was her destiny just to feel his touch. And now here, in the shower, he was again, teasing her with unseen hands, whispering harshly in her ear. "He's downstairs, isn't he?"

She tried to play innocent. He was just anaphasic, not omnipotent. "Who?"

Ronin grabbed her pain receptors, bringing her down to her knees. The sound of her scream was masked by the running water. "Your precious captain. He's here, isn't he?" She nodded. "If he tries to come between us, Beverly, I will kill him." He took on corporeal form and grabbed her hair, pulling hard at the roots, forcing her head back.

Her private miasma of pain and pleasure was none of Jean- Luc's concern. She wasn't even certain how Maturin had managed to lure him to Caldos. But she was not going to have his death on her conscience. As much as she could, with her head held immobile, she nodded her understanding. "I'll ask him to leave," she promised, knowing that her last hope would leave with him. Days upon days of this endless ecstasy and torture...she knew the psychology, knew that sooner or later she would anticipate it, look forward to it, beg for it, and then Ronin would have her forever.

"That isn't enough, Beverly," Ronin murmured, and released her hair. She knew what he wanted, his special punishment for her, making her please him with her mouth when he wasn't really corporeal and could feel none of the pleasure. And then, when he was finished and released himself down her throat, it would burn as the sap had burned her hands.

She lost all track of time as she kneeled on the shower floor, but downstairs, Picard was all too well aware of it. When the kettle had boiled and she had not returned, he was mildly upset. When he had finished a cup of tea and she had not yet descended, he was angry. When he finished his second cup and the shower water was still running, he recalled that she had claimed dizzy spells. He was almost certain they were a lie, but what if they were true? What if she had fallen or passed out and was lying there, hurt?

He took the steps two at a time and didn't bother to knock before opening the bathroom door. He saw her silhouette, kneeling, head thrown back. There was an odd green glow around her, but he passed it off as a trick of the light streaming through the frosted window.

He threw open the old fashioned shower curtain and saw her, face raised upwards into the frigid water spray, her mouth open, swallowing convulsively. Her lips were tinged blue.

He reached in and jerked her to her feet, momentarily oblivious to her nudity.

"What the hell are you doing? Get out of there, you're freezing."

He hauled her out of the shower, then reached in and turned off the water. She was shivering uncontrollably and water, or was it tears, streamed down her face. His anger calmed, seeing her like this, seeming so frail and vulnerable. He wrapped her in a towel, rubbing her skin briskly to dry and warm her.

She struggled weakly, fighting hard not to cry out as the cloth rubbed against her tender flesh. "Please, stop."

He ignored her feeble protest, putting an arm around her shoulders to steer her into her bedroom for some clothes. She resisted his lead. "No."

"You're shivering, you need to get dressed, to get warm."

"No!" She said it louder, desperate to prevent him from caring for her. It would only make sending him away that much harder - and it was going to be hard enough already. "Jean-Luc, leave me alone."

He tried, he really tried to keep his temper, to understand what was happening to his oldest, dearest friend. But there was already too much hurt and misunderstanding between them and Jean-Luc was not that strong.

"What is wrong with you, Beverly? The governor drags me out here with accusations of your inappropriate activities. I get here and find you looking worse than I've ever seen you. And you lie to me. To me. Your best friend. You half beg me to stay, then disappear upstairs. I get worried and come to help you and find you trying to drown yourself. Now I want to know what is going on and so help me, Beverly Crusher, no matter what we once meant to each other, if you lie to me I will walk out that door and you will never see me again."

It was there, before her, the chance to save him while damning herself to a lifetime of Ronin's cruel pleasures. It would be so easy. Just one little lie. She opened her mouth, ready to end everything, and found she could not speak.

She looked down, pulling the towel tighter and shivered. "I need to get dressed."

But Picard had had enough. He'd been pushed to the limits these past few months, stoically enduring the loss of Kirk, the Enterprise, his brother and nephew. He'd held himself together through the memorials and the Starfleet hearings and then, mere days after the hearings ended, Beverly had walked out on him. Standing here in these intimate surroundings, facing this woman he no longer knew, he reached the end of his already frayed rope.

He grabbed her arm, swinging her around and pushing her back against the wall. He gripped her wrists and pressed them back against the wall, letting the towel fall to the floor unnoticed. He also didn't notice the odd expression on Beverly's face, a mixture of fear and anticipation.

"We will talk here. Now. You are not leaving this room until I have answers."

She couldn't look into his eyes. She was too ashamed that he might see how truly flawed she was. Better he think her a liar than know the truth. She thought fast, trying to come up with a plausible lie, something that would not hurt him anymore than necessary. Come on, Beverly, think.

But Ronin didn't give her time to think. He was there, in her mind, taunting her, mocking her and her knight in shining armor. He sent flares of pain through her, making her wince. Send your little Romeo on his way, Beverly, so we can be alone. Now waves of pleasure were coursing through her body, making her skin tingle.

"Talk."

Picard tightened his grip, breaking through the pleasure, or maybe adding to it, Beverly wasn't sure which.

"I... Jean-Luc.... I..." she broke off in a half- sob, half- gasp as Ronin hurt her again. It was too much, all of it, the intensity of emotions she'd felt; was feeling now. She'd spent her life losing everything she cared about and now she must send away the one thing she had left. The man she loved. The man she'd hurt so cruelly.

She slipped towards the crevasse that was madness, feeling an odd sense of blackness. Perhaps it was best this way, after all, for without senses, she would not care about hurting or being hurt. Yes, that was best for everyone.

With her last clear thought, she looked into Jean-Luc's eyes and whispered. "I'm sorry."

He wasn't sure what happened next, only that Beverly was howling. He couldn't understand her words, if the odd sounds she was making were words, and he couldn't understand the tone. He had only heard two types of people make those sorts of sounds: those in the throes of an intense orgasm and those dying horribly. He abruptly released her hands, shocked, backing away. She was mad as a hatter she was, and it terrified him.

He stood at the far end of the room, scared to come any closer, yet compelled to watch in macabre fascination as she arched her back, gasped, hit her head against the wall. Some memory tugged at his mind, but the more he fought to capture it, the more elusive it became. And still Beverly was keening, thrashing, banging her head back again and again.

She spoke, her words finally clear, but mystifying. She screamed at him to get out, to stay, to leave her alone, to help her, "no"s and "yes"es and moans and sighs and cries all intermingling. Jean-Luc had never seen her like this, not even when he told her Jack had died. Over the past decade she had been his bedrock, a calm and level ground which was always ready to absorb his troubles and fears. And now- -how did she get like this? Why did it seem almost familiar?

Make him leave Ronin said, in her mind.

"No!"

"Beverly," Jean-Luc said, finally released from his stupor, "Stop it. You are hurting yourself." Is this where all the bruises came from, he wondered. Had she been hurting herself? He didn't have the time or the energy to help her or heal her, but he couldn't leave when she was like this. Not because of the feelings he had for her or their history, but out of a sense of simple human dignity.

Send him away.

"I won't," she replied, and Ronin and Jean-Luc were each convinced she was answering his own demand.

Ronin hurt her again, but she was too far gone to care. He had done too much, and the what had driven her to her knees only days ago now felt only like a surface scratch.

Jean-Luc slid down to the floor next to her and pulled her into his lap, taking up the rhythm of her rocking while holding her arms crossed against her chest to stop her from hurting herself. She looked up at him, confused, whispering his name, and he realized that she didn't even remember he was there. It was too much for him. He had lost almost everything he ever had, and now he was watching himself lose her as well.

He would not let her slip away from him, not like that. He would take her back to Earth. He would seek out Troi. There were medical facilities that could help her. But he would not leave her like this.

She was still squirming, trying to get away, trying, it seemed, to hurt herself. Some distant corner of her mind knew how she must look, and wanted to continue the self-inflicted pain, hoping she could make herself pass out and earn a short respite. Then Ronin sent her tumbling again, and she couldn't stop herself from writhing in Jean-Luc's lap.

He felt her grinding against him, and try as he might he couldn't fully stop his body from responding, though he knew it was wrong. Roughly, he threw her off, dropping her to the floor, straddling her naked body to keep her from resuming her self-destructive movements.

The knowledge of Picard's reactions infuriated Ronin, and he assaulted Beverly with an ferocity unlike all his previous assaults. She was absolutely mindless with pleasure and pain, and then Jean-Luc was adding to both, slapping her to bring her out of her delirium, and she was screaming at both the men to stop and not to stop, and pleading for it all to end, and begging for more.

Merge with me, and I will stop.

"Yes, anything."

And then I will kill him.

"No!"

She was still bucking beneath Jean-Luc, and he was forcing himself not to react. His weight felt sweet above her, tying her to reality. And it was this small bit of joy she allowed herself which showed Ronin the way to have her forever and be rid of the interfering human male.

You care for him.

Beyond speech, she only nodded.

You want him.

Did she? She once had, back when the world made sense. Did she still? Ronin had crowded out everything else.

I said: You want him.

If Ronin said she did, she did. All feeling began and ended with Ronin.

Then have him. Take him.

He let up the barrage of sensations, and her body stopped its wild dance, laying, exhausted, on the floor. Jean-Luc stayed atop her, waiting to see if her seizure was truly over or if she would start again.

Take him!

She couldn't do that, she knew, though because of Ronin's ministrations that was all she wanted to do. She knew that if she approached Jean-Luc now, this way, he would stand up and leave her forever. She disobeyed Ronin, remaining still, waiting for her punishment.

His voice rang, deadly calm, in her mind. I will kill him.

Without speaking, she laughed. He kept saying that, but did nothing. He wouldn't hurt Jean-Luc after all, she was sure of that. Absolutely sure. Positive.

Until the green light crackled around him, as it had so many months ago. Both the humans screamed out, simultaneously. "Ronin!" Jean-Luc was still straddling her, held immobile by the green light and the indescribable pain it brought. Then his weight was gone. Beverly watched in horror as he was half carried, half flung up and away from her. He hit the wall with a thud and remained there, his body suspended. The green light still surrounded him, but Beverly could clearly see the agony in his eyes.

"Ronin, stop this!" She rose as quickly as she was able. The horror of seeing her dearest friend being hurt the way she herself had been so many times was too much. From somewhere within herself she found a wellspring of strength. There was no hope of her escaping Ronin's control, but she would do anything, sacrifice anything to keep Jean-Luc safe. Spreading her arms wide she cried, "Ronin, I offer myself willingly for the merging, if you stop this now."

He was in her mind again, nearly snarling in his contempt. "Such a noble sacrifice, my lovely Beverly. Giving yourself to me to save your white knight."

The green light vanished, and Jean-Luc crumpled to the floor gasping. Then Ronin was beside him, dragging him to his feet. "You'd rather have this?" the anaphasic being shook Jean-Luc for emphasis, "when you could have a lifetime of pleasure with me?"

He tossed the limp man aside contemptuously. His next words were carefully measured. "What has happened to your mind, Beverly? No real Howard woman would refuse me." He stood before her, gripping her arms, "But you're no Howard, you're nothing but a bastard child, the product of a whore." He sneered at the hurt in her eyes. He may have inured her to physical pain, but she was still able to feel the pain of his verbal assault. Wonderful. "I wouldn't sully myself by merging with you if your mother hadn't been stupid enough to get herself killed before producing a legitimate child."

He touched her hair, her face, her naked flesh as if to prove he owned her completely, that no part of her would be free from Ronin's control. "She knew better than to defy me." He touched Beverly's head, petting her. "She was so much stronger than you, my lovely. It took weeks longer to make her agree to the merging."

"It was a scene much like this one actually, but she didn't refuse me when I told her to take her lover, Paul. They were together for months at my insistence, until it was quite clear you were on the way. Then one day he tried to take Isabel away." Ronin sighed, "A pity he didn't survive the attempt. Unfortunately, your mother took it rather hard. She was quite mad by the time you were born. Even then she resisted me. I'm afraid I overestimated her will to live." Ronin sighed, stroking Beverly's face. "I expect it won't be much longer before you're as insane as your mother." He shook his head. "An unfortunate price for resisting me."

"Shut up!" Beverly pulled herself roughly out of his grip. "Just shut up. Stop your filthy lying. You're the one who's insane, manipulating my family for generations, leeching off them, hurting them. You revel in your ability to inflict pain, you sick bastard, and I will stop you."

"Oh, but little Beverly, you've already tried - and failed. And you will pay for that. But not today." Ronin grabbed her hair and forced her to her knees. For one terrifying moment Beverly thought he was going to make her submit to his special punishment, making her take him in her mouth in front of Jean-Luc. Instead, he leered down at her. "You won't stop me Beverly, because I'm going to give you what your heart desires. I'm going to give you to Picard." He smiled at the faint glimmer of hope under her doubt and fear. "All you have to do is remain here until you produce a daughter. I will merge with her and you will be free." He pushed her away, the force propelling her down onto her stomach so that her head was near Jean-Luc's barely conscious form. "Go on, crawl to him, seduce him. I want to watch."

She could not do this, she knew. She couldn't use Jean-Luc this way and she absolutely refused to breed a daughter for Ronin's sick pleasures. But she had to have time--time to heal Jean-Luc, time to figure out how to escape and how, finally and forever, to kill Ronin.

"I can't do this, Ronin." The green light began to surround Jean-Luc, and Beverly hastened to add, "He'll be of no use to me like this. He'll need to recover from the exposure to anaphasic energy."

The energy never hurt you--unless I wanted it to. I will heal your fool for you. The energy again surrounded Picard, but it appeared as a soft blanket, wrapping him, soothing. When the energy field dissipated, Jean-Luc opened his eyes.

"Ronin?"

A burst of pain twisted through Beverly's mind. She knew what she had to do. "He's not here."

"Beverly, what is going on? Was Ronin here? How? I thought...Did he do all this to you?"

She did not answer, would not lie to him. She silently begged him to stop even asking.

Jean-Luc sat up, glaring down at her. "Did he do this to you?"

Again, she remained silent.

A third time he asked, screaming at her, gripping her arms. "Did he do this to you?"

This time, he got an answer, or what could pass for one, a small moan. He gently lifted her head and laid it in his lap, stroking her hair. "I am sorry, Beverly. I should have realized you wouldn't leave as you did unless something was very wrong."

Just a few minutes more of this, Beverly promised herself, a few minutes more of simple pleasures--peace, no pain, a friend. A few minutes more and then I'll think of a way out of here. He was still stroking her hair, and it felt so good, this small show of tenderness. She turned her head from side to side to catch some more of the gesture, to anticipate and prolong it.

Beverly's motions were becoming very distracting to Jean- Luc. He was sitting on a bedroom floor with a naked woman turning against him in a very provocative manner; his reactions were perfectly normal, if extremely ill-timed under the circumstances. He nudged her and helped her to sit up; she blinked distractedly, uncertainly why he had moved her.

Very good, little Beverly, beamed Ronin. You've gotten him interested. You're one step closer to freedom. In reward, and as reminder of who truly owned her, he allowed her a small frisson of pleasure.

"Beverly," Jean-Luc interrupted her thoughts, "we have to talk. Explain to me what's going on."

"There isn't time," she answered. "Jean-Luc, do you care for me, even a little?"

"Of course I do, you know that. You're my best friend. You know that I..." Even now he couldn't say aloud how he felt about her. "I care for you."

"And I care for you--more than you could know. Promise me something, Jean-Luc."

He took her hand. "Anything."

She gulped; this would be the hardest thing she had ever done; it might well be the last thing she'd ever do. "No matter what I say, no matter how I act--if you care for me Jean-Luc, if you care at all, promise me that you will never, never, make love with me."

In her mind, Ronin began to howl, coursing pain as she had never known it through her veins. The energy crackled and flowed around her, drawing Jean-Luc into its web as well, sending his unprotected, incompatible mind down a well of darkness and terror.

He was falling, plummeting downward, but there was no wind, no motion, nothing but the sense of descending, unable to stop himself and afraid that he might never stop. Around him was darkness and inside, the feeling of heat. It was almost pleasant at first, like that first swallow of hot tea burning against the throat, but it grew, increasing intensity until it felt like flames covering him, consuming him. And still he was falling.

Stop! he screamed silently, his mind closing in on itself in fear. And descent ended, stopping as if he had landed on something, or been thrown against it. It hurt, but in the best way, because it was a sensation he could understand. He curled in on himself and relished the pain. Until, suddenly, it stopped.

There was nothing. Then slowly, slowly, a faint tingle, tiny pinpricks of pleasure/pain growing, pulsing, throbbing until it beat a crescendo against his head. It seemed to scream "Let me go!" over and over again until he wanted to weep for the desperation of it. "Let me go!"

In a distant part of himself, he found comfort in the screaming. He knew this, understood it, lived it. This desperate pleading was him. Victim.

How he hated that weakness. He had been strong and proud and inviolate, and they had taken all of that from him, then demanded so much more. And, as if it were a voice whispering in his mind he heard //RageAngerFearHatred// and then //Revenge// and he smiled. Because the voice was right. Revenge.

He felt softness beneath him and knew his surroundings suddenly, as if waking from a vivid nightmare. His hand touched silk and he lifted himself up slowly and looked down. Beverly.

She was awake, staring straight up at him and whimpering. She made no effort to move as he slid away from her. //Look// the voice urged, and he did, studying her with clinical interest, noting the injuries that covered her but feeling nothing. Until the voice said //Victim//

He was over her in a minute, nearly snarling, hand raised to strike. //Stop// the voice demanded, and he complied. //Felisa// the voice suggested, insinuating the meaning within his mind. Yes, he agreed, the bedroom. Roughly he hauled Beverly to her feet and pulled her from the room. She didn't help or resist his efforts. Until he propelled her into Nana's room.

She didn't waste the effort to speak. Her Jean-Luc would not hear. The man beside her, raging at her feeble efforts to get away, was Ronin's as surely as she was. There would be no help here. Better to submit, to let the image of her beloved Jean-Luc claim her than to fight and be forced. For surely that, the feel of him over her, taking her against her every protest would be more than she could endure.

A calm settled over her and she wasn't even aware of being lifted onto Nana's bed. It would be over soon. She turned her head to look, watching as Jean-Luc climbed onto the bed beside her. His mouth took hers hard, but she didn't resist. It would all be over soon, and the flames of Hades would claim her.

And suddenly she knew what she had to do. She had to burn. Now, while she was alive and he was inside her. And not just her, but Nana too. There could be no chance for the monster to survive.

She threw her arms around Jean-Luc, feeling not hard kisses and rough touch, but the sweet caresses and tender kisses she always dreamed of. A tear escaped her eye. Good-bye, she said in her head, not able to say it aloud for fear of warning Ronin. I love you, Jean-Luc.

Above her, driven by the voice inside his mind, Jean-Luc gripped her wrists tighter and forced her legs apart. //She made you a victim.// the voice whispered, and then. //Revenge//

He sat back, removing his clothing while watching her. The voice sang a litany of her transgressions. She hadn't rescued him from the Borg. She had left him for the Cardassians. She had abandoned him after Kesprytt. She had taken Jack away. She had refused him but slept with Will. She had made him a victim.

He straddled her again, his body ready to exact his revenge. But something stopped him, made him hesitate.

The voice buffeted him, demanding, deriding his weakness. But Jean-Luc, this close to losing himself, had little armor left against the assault with its maddening mix of pleasure/pain and its agony of emotion. And strangely, that lack of armor was his strongest defense. Without that armor, that rigid, inflexible sense of self that Jean-Luc depended on to shield himself, Ronin had nothing to grasp. Jean-Luc was not a Howard, Ronin could not control him as he could Beverly. The voice faded, then became nothing more than a murmur.

"Let me go!"

Jean-Luc's senses returned, and he was suddenly aware of the residual pain from Ronin's anaphasic energy blast. He felt refreshingly sane after the madness of everything since his arrival on Caldos a few hours ago and had to suppress the urge to laugh. Until he realized where he was--on a bed with Beverly spread out beneath him, and he pulled away from her as though from a hornet's nest.

The voice in his head had sounded so right, had known things he had never admitted to himself. When had he begun to think of Beverly that way? Was that why he had never allowed himself to get closer; not the trumped up excuse of a guilt which should have died with Jack, but this naming of Beverly as the source of his troubles?

And Beverly--she was lying there, prepared to give herself to him, anyway he chose to take her. More than that--her eyes shone with anticipation. She wanted to give herself to him, now, like this, more than she ever had wanted before. The only thing which stilled the small voice of disgust in his mind was the idea that he was now so attractive simply as an alternative to Ronin, or as a channel to freedom.

He had to win her that freedom, but not at the price Ronin demanded. He was Jean-Luc Picard, and he would find a way to release her from the bonds of this madness, but he would not give Ronin a small hostage in exchange.

Jean-Luc rose from the bed, roughly throwing the cover over Beverly, putting her body out of temptations' reach. He quickly donned his trousers and stepped over to the doorway, calling for Ronin as he left the room.

The creature coalesced in his corporeal form. "I'm not going anywhere with you, and you're not leaving."

"I'm leaving this room, and if you want anything from me, you'll follow," Picard sneered.

Ronin sneered right back. "I'll just stay and play with our fair Beverly."

Picard walked up to Ronin, standing so close they could feel each other's breath on their faces. "And you'll never get what you want. Not from her, and not from me. You need us more than we need you." He looked over at Beverly, who had retreated into herself again. "We're prepared to die. Are you?"

"She already tried to kill me. It won't work."

"I don't know how you survived, but I do know this. She is the last of the Howard women. When she dies, without having merged with you, without your damned candle, will you be strong enough to find another family to haunt?" Jean-Luc walked back to the do orway. "I can leave now, or you can come downstairs and we can talk about this, man to man." He had seen the things Ronin did, had felt the anger and misogyny coursing through the creature. He had to get him away from Beverly at any cost.

Ronin stepped closer to the bedside, and Picard braced himself for action. For all his bravado, if Ronin didn't leave with him, he would stay, too--he couldn't leave Beverly alone with this monster. Ronin towered over Beverly, who was too exhausted, physically and emotionally, to react. He warned her to stay put until he allowed her to leave the bed, and sent a long shudder through her body, as a reminder to both her and Picard that he could use her as he wished. He considered having her again, there in front of the valiant idiot who thought he could thwart a centuries-old tradition, but decided against that. That could always be done later, but for now, he was curious what the human male had to say.

He joined Picard at the doorway, and together they walked downstairs, into the kitchen. Assuming a bravado he didn't really feel, Jean-Luc calmly set about preparing lunch for himself and Beverly, making Ronin wait and cool his heels. Finally, the creature could stand the suspense no longer. It had been such a long time since he had needed to deal with anyone he could not control. Usually, he would just kill such an impediment, as he had killed Ned Quint, but Picard was right--he needed this human male. Beverly was the last of her line, and who knew if that boy of hers would ever have a daughter? It was a chance he could not take, not when a better solution was right here before him. "You said you wanted to talk," he spat at Jean-Luc. "Talk. Or I will go upstairs and talk to Beverly."

"Is that the best you can do? Threats?" Picard didn't even bother to turn and face Ronin.

"It's always worked before."

"Has it? I don't see that Beverly merged with you, and you seem to have threatened her quite enough for that." Ronin did not answer; there was no answer to give.

"And yet," Picard continued, "she was ready to give herself to me, even when you controlled my thoughts. I find that quite interesting, don't you?"

"I find you quite annoying."

"Yes, but you need me. You know you'll never merge with Beverly, and yet you want to live. You need me to help you. And what do I get in return?"

"What you've always wanted," whispered that silky voice which had seduced generations of Howard women. "Beverly."

Ronin's seductiveness was lost on Jean-Luc. "I can have her anytime I want. I've lost count of the number of times she's offered herself to me. Even after we left Caldos, just after she killed you...It's me she's wanted all along, never you. She just allowed you to seduce her because I wouldn't take her." He was pushing beyond the edges of truth, but he needed to safeguard Beverly, no matter what it cost him.

"You wouldn't take her because you hate her," Ronin snarled, remembering the deeply buried emotions he had uncovered when he controlled the captain's mind and body.

"Perhaps. Maybe it's just that she's too willing." He finally turned to look at Ronin, affecting a man-to-man attitude. "A bit of a challenge is nice now and then, isn't it? But now? You've broken her spirit. No challenge at all." He turned back to his cooking.

"And if I stop influencing her?" Ronin asked.

"I might consider an...arrangement..."

Ronin had seen enough of the man before him to know when he was being lied to. Nothing would make Picard yield to him. No persuasion would sway him, and releasing Beverly from the spell he had woven around her might attract Picard, but would not give him a new Howard woman to possess.

He considered how to punish the two of them. Again he thought of forcing her to submit and forcing her hero to watch, and then he abruptly realized that he had been living as a pseudo-human for far too long. He was not a man, a lover of women. He was an energy creature, formless and genderless. He could do anything he wanted to Beverly--or to Jean-Luc. He could punish them both, humiliate them, hurt them as he was being hurt. It galled to hear this Picard remind him that his life was at their mercy; he would make them realize that their's was at his.

The only questions which remained was what to do, and whom it would hurt more to be used, whom it would hurt more to be forced to witness. A slow smile spread on the false face of the creature as the answer came to him.

This would be worth savoring he decided. Yes, definitely worth prolonging. After all, once you broke one of your toys, it was never as much fun. He'd been so angry with Beverly for nearly destroying him that he'd forgotten how much more fun it was to seduce rather than to coerce. Far better to have her surrender to his wishes thinking it was of her own free will. And she would surrender. They both would.

Ronin leaned back in the chair and smiled. He watched Picard finish making the meal and place it on the table. It was simple, just some of that soup that all his women seemed to like with some dry bread and glasses of tea for both. He was amused that Picard didn't even offer a bowl to him. No matter, he didn't eat like weakling humans did and it would be so satisfying to watch them as he planned his next move.

Picard was determined to ignore the anaphasic being for now, knowing that both he and Beverly were far from rid of the creature. No matter, right now he had to concentrate on feeding Beverly and helping her gain what little strength she could from the meal. He wondered how long it had been since she'd eaten last.

Completing preparations for the meal, Picard strode calmly from the room and up the stairs. It surprised him to see that Ronin had not followed.

"Beverly, come have something to eat," he urged gently. She still lay on the bed, seeming not to have moved at all. Then he remembered Ronin's orders for her to remain. "It's all right," he said, stroking her hair. She looked at him and he saw the raw need in her eyes. "It's all right," he repeated.

She looked so broken, lying there. How could he ever have hated her?

"Come on," he whispered, taking her hand and half dragging her from the bed. The cover fell away and he saw her naked flesh again, finally seeing it as her friend, with sympathy. He hauled her to her feet and shuddered at the memory of lying above her, ready to inflict even more hurt over what she'd already endured.

As for the demons Ronin had unleashed, well, there would be time to exorcise them later, when they were both free. Deanna would help, and so would the rest of their friends. Right now, the only thing that mattered was protecting Beverly.

He sat her on the edge of the bed and went to her closet, grabbing the first garment that he found, a simple short sleeved dress made of a stretchy fabric opaque enough to cover her without needing undergarments. He wasn't up to that battle. Wrestling her into the garment proved difficult even though she did try to help.

By the time she was dressed, Jean-Luc was more than a little flushed, both from the exertion and from the close contact with Beverly's body.

Slipping an arm around her waist, he guided her to her feet. He'd found soft soled shoes for her, and that had made her smile slightly. He wondered how long she'd been living this nightmare that something as basic as footwear was able to cheer her. Then he brushed her hair. He nearly cried watching her touch the hairbrush as through it were a treasure.

Leaving the bedroom seemed to bring her strength. She slid out of his gentle embrace and walked by herself down the steps. Jean-Luc hovered nervously beside her knowing that this show of strength would be short-lived. Ronin was downstairs.

"Hello Beverly." Ronin's voice was silk. "Come have some lunch, my dear."

Beverly paused, one foot on the last step, and for a moment, Jean-Luc was sure he could hear the frantic beating of her heart. Then she calmly moved to the table and took her seat. Jean-Luc couldn't tell if she were that brave or just numb.

They ate in silence, Beverly hunched over the bowl and shoveling the soup into her mouth as fast as she could swallow. A few times she raised her eyes quickly looking this way and that. Then she saw the clay vase in its place of honor on the mantle. She inhaled suddenly and nearly choked on a vegetable. Jean-Luc leapt to her aid and spent several minutes trying to calm her. Ronin remained in his chair and watched. He knew what caught her attention and decided that that would be the coup de grace.

The rest of the meal went without incident. Jean-Luc carried the empty dishes to the sink and Beverly straightened the table cloth. Ronin watched them go about their mundane chores and waited.

A casual flick of his wrist and a band of anaphasic energy caught Beverly's wrist. She gasped and pulled it away from the tablecloth, cradling the wounded hand against her chest. Jean-Luc hurried over knowing that the battle was about to begin.

"Ah, good. I have your attention." Ronin smiled cruelly. "My dear Beverly, I will state my offer plainly once more, so that I know you fully understand the situation. Howard women have been merging with me for centuries, sustaining me. You have refused this merging. You have two choices; you will merge with me willingly, or you will mate with him," he motioned to Picard, "and produce a daughter who you will then allow me to merge with. The choice is yours."

Beverly stayed silent.

"Can't decide? Well then, let me help you make up your mind." Ronin stood up and walked over to Jean-Luc. "Why don't you tell little Beverly how you really feel about her, Jean-Luc? Tell her how much you hate her. Tell her how it felt to be straddling her, holding her down, ready to invade her, hurt her. Tell her!"

Ronin turned towards Beverly. "And you, little Beverly. Tell Jean-Luc here how excited you were to feel him forcing you. Tell him how much you like that - a man who takes what he wants from you, however he wants it. Tell him about the games you and Jack used to play. Tell him!"

Unwillingly they looked at each other, guilty secrets laid bare. Beverly, more hardened to Ronin's cruelty, spoke first, "Jean- Luc, I...." but stopped when she realized there was nothing she could say. It was true, part of it anyway. Jack hadn't been the perfect gentleman everyone thought he was. And there had been more than a few times that Beverly had longed for Jean-Luc to be more like that. But she didn't dare say anything for fear that he wouldn't understand.

Perhaps that was what had driven her to leave him those few weeks ago. Perhaps this monster ruling over her family for centuries had kept her from ever finding a normal loving relationship. Normal, ha, as if she even knew what that meant. Everyone she had ever loved was dead, or gone. She looked at Jean-Luc. Or hated her.

Ronin was taunting Jean-Luc now, abusing him verbally as he had so often abused her. It was too much. Jean-Luc may hate her, he had every right, but she would not allow Ronin to hurt him any longer. She had brought him enough pain already. He was as close as she'd ever come to a perfect love. She'd give anything to protect that. Anything.

There was a candle and lighter on the small end table not far from the door, and cleaning solution left carelessly on the floor nearby. The bottle was nearly full. Perfect. All she needed was a diversion.

She had always known that she was marked for death, and each time a lover or friend died, she had felt the guilt surround her like a great claw, choking her, as she realized they had suffered the fate meant for her. It was her fatalism that had lead her to choose Starfleet for a career--if she was going to die, let it be spectacularly, heroically. Now her wish and destiny were to be fulfilled, though in a way far different from what she had imagined.

Oddly now, on the threshold of death, she found herself clinging desperately to life. Why she did not know; did she want to live to see Ronin thwarted? Or to love Jean-Luc? Or to punish herself and the both of them? Frantically, she tried to think of another way out of this situation.

"Jean-Luc," she said, ignoring their common enemy for a bit longer, "won't Starfleet come looking for you? How long a leave did you take?"

"She's right, Ronin. If I stay we will have to deal with Starfleet. It's only a matter of days now."

"And they will send the governor, as they did before," stated Ronin. "And the little pig will see evidence that Beverly has taken one, perhaps two, lovers. He already thinks she's quite the little slut; I have no problem confirming his suspicions. And, my dear captain, you can send your resignation to Starfleet through him. I'm not foolish enough to allow you access to a comm system, not until Beverly has finished with you, one way or the other. But cheer up, Jean-Luc, it's just a matter of time."

That dashed Beverly's penultimate hope. Now all that was left was to burn as she was always meant to burn. It would be almost a relief to give in to the flames which had always awaited her; all she wanted was some way to let Jean-Luc know she went to them willingly, choosing them as the one option Ronin had not thought to offer. His last words and her own thoughts brought back the memory of a talk with Guinan while they had waited for rescue in the broken hulk of the Enterprise, a way to let Jean-Luc know what she planned so he could accept this loss as he had accepted those others.

"Yes, just a matter of time," she echoed, turning to look at Jean-Luc. "Time is the fire in which we burn." She then returned her eyes to Ronin. "You want me to make a choice between you and him? I choose neither of you."

"I can't allow that, my little Beverly."

"Well, then, if you insist I make a choice, you make it for me. Better still, the both of you choose for me. I'll go upstairs and make myself presentable; I expect that sooner or later one of you will come along to claim your prize." She bent to retrieve the medical kit on the floor next to the end table, awkwardly managing to open it and spill its contents as she rose. With a muttered, feigned curse she knelt to retrieve the scattered objects, furtively adding the cleaner and lighter to her haul.

Keeping her back hunched protectively (of herself, she knew they thought, but really of her treasures) she rushed to the steps. Out of the corner of her eye she saw her mother's vase, and regretted that she would not be able to save this last remnant of the Howards for Wesley, but perhaps that was for the best. Let him make a fresh start on his other planes of existence, free of the Howards' blessings and released from their curses.

The two men let her leave, allowing her what she wished, the chance to be nothing but a pawn in their power games. If Ronin were right, that was all she ever really had wanted to be, anyway. Her final words bothered Jean-Luc. He remembered sitting in Ten-Forward after learning of Robert and Rene's deaths, and Soran staring at him, saying that, trying to manipulate him. But he had managed to pull away from Soran and the illusions in time. Was Beverly reassuring him that they would both be able to pull away from this?

"So, Picard, what's it to be? Which one of us shall have the pleasure of Beverly's company?"

"I have no right to choose for another," Jean-Luc said quietly.

"She gave you that choice. She put her life in your hands." Ronin's voice was silky and seductive. "Use that power, man. You've always wanted to tell her what to do. Tell her."

"How do you know so much about me?" Picard wondered.

"Do you think Felisa left me so ill-prepared? She read everything Starfleet released about the Enterprise, and everything she knew, I knew. I knew everything there was to know about little Beverly."

Jean-Luc slammed his hand against the table. "Would you stop calling her 'little Beverly'?"

"Ah, so you do care for her. Fascinating."

"The only thing fascinating," said Jean-Luc, dizzied by the way these conversations kept turning on their own tails, "is how little you really did know about Beverly."

"Touche, mon capitaine." The use of this term reminded Picard of Q, and for the first time he wished the omniscient troublemaker would deign to come and rescue them. Of course, the one predictable thing about Q was that he wouldn't come when most you needed him.

He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts he almost missed Ronin's next words. "Which brings us back to your decision, Picard." He saw the cunning look in Jean-Luc's eyes and hastened to amend his words. "And don't think I'm that stupid. I will make sure she has a daughter, one way or the other, to guarantee my existence after she's gone. If you will not give her one, give me one, once she's merged with me I will find some man willing to do the evil deed, no matter how many men it takes. Which would you prefer, Jean-Luc, to have your daughter spend a lifetime in absolute ecstasy or watch as Beverly flits from man to man like the whore she is? You know now what it is she likes from men; you saw how she responded when you nearly raped her. How long do you think she'll last on the open market, begging strangers to sleep with her?" He stepped even closer, invading Jean-Luc's space. "Who knows? Maybe she'll thrive. Maybe that's what she's always wanted to be. I don't really care. After I've merged with her daughter, she can sell herself to Orion slavers. In fact, I might do that for her."

It all suddenly became too much for Picard. He had turned his back on Beverly, had allowed her to walk out, had not wanted to follow her, and she had been living a nightmare which only deepened. And this creature, to whom Beverly had once given herself, had tortured her and raped her and now planned to prostitute her. And he, who had charged to her reluctant rescue, was now being forced between consenting or assisting. It was intolerable.

He moved to the table where he had earlier seen a candlestick. He saw nothing wrong with tearing a monster like this apart limb from limb using only his bare hands, but having a weapon at hand wouldn't harm. Something was different about the table, something was missing. Fire. Time. The pieces of Beverly's puzzle fell into place--time might be a fire, but she would burn in one all too real. And he could not allow that.

Simultaneously, Ronin smelled the smoke beginning to pour down the steps from Felisa's burning bedroom. With his usual selfish thoughts, he headed for the door, determined to rescue himself. He had not survived centuries to become ash at the hands of some stupid wench. Picard, the more fool he, took the stairs two at a time.

The door to Felisa's room was locked, but the adjacent bathroom door was merely closed. Walking through to the bedroom, he was horrified to see his best friend, his love, standing, arms outstretched, in the middle of a raging blaze. "Beverly!"

She shouted back at him through the crackling of the flames. "It's me he needs, Jean-Luc. When I'm gone he won't need you anymore. And he will die, finally."

"But so will you!"

He could have sworn she smiled then, as her clothes began to ignite. She looked serene, almost joyous at the mention of an end to all her nightmares.

"Nooo!!" The sound was torn from Jean-Luc's soul. No matter what their past, their present, he could not bear the thought of a future without Beverly.

He raced from the bedroom into the bathroom tearing the shower curtain down. It was still wet from Beverly's shower and the droplets hissed against the flames as he returned to the bedroom.

Smoke and heat burned his lungs and eyes but he didn't let himself feel anything. His Beverly was dying and he would do anything to save her.

Miraculously, she was still alive, still standing, arms outstretched and head thrown back. The flames caressed her, burning, but she didn't make a sound.

Jean-Luc dove through the flames, throwing the curtain around Beverly even as he half pulled, half carried her from the room. He shoved her onto the hard tile of the bathroom floor and threw himself on top of her, smothering the flames. He rolled her back and forth, slapping and pummeling the fire until long after it was out.

The acrid smoke gagging him finally returned him to his senses. He found himself hitting Beverly, striking her over and over again, the terror of almost losing her driving him mad. She lay passively beneath him, eyes open, motionless, unmoving.

Mon Dieu!

Jean-Luc was suddenly painfully aware of the fire's rapid approach. He had to get Beverly out now. The heat chased him, making him weak. He gathered Beverly in his arms and stumbled to his feet.

Felisa's bedroom was at the end of the hallway, farthest from the stairs. The fire had not yet spread beyond that room, though it was threatening to break free at any time.

He made it down the stairs with his precious burden and carried her out into the yard. In the distance he heard fire sirens. He collapsed to his knees gasping for breath. Beverly fell from his grasp onto the unkempt lawn and lay unmoving.

There was a sudden flash of light, bright as daylight, somewhere over his left shoulder. Jean-Luc turned to look, squinting through the tears in his smoke hazed eyes.

A green cloud surrounded much of the Howard house, glowing and pulsing, and through it were the flames. There was a harsh, deafening, sucking sound, like that of a sudden vacuum and then the green glow faded. The Howard home went dark, the flames extinguished.

"Nana."

It was the first sound Beverly had made since the fire. Jean- Luc turned to look at her and saw her sitting up. It was clear she was in pain, but he knew the tears in her eyes had nothing to do with her physical injuries.

"Lie still, Beverly, help is coming."

"No, it's not. There's no help for me as long as Ronin is alive. Jean-Luc, you should have let me burn."

It was said so quietly, so unemotionally that it broke Jean- Luc's heart. Where had he been when Ronin was inflicting such pain that Beverly felt her only salvation was to immolate herself? Damn me for the fool I've been.

He took her hand gently, afraid, now, of what his touch might do to her badly burned skin. "I love you Beverly, and we will find a way to free you from Ronin's control, or we will both die in the attempt. You will not fight this battle alone any longer. "

To his surprise she didn't protest. She struggled to sit up, then spent several long moments retching. When at last she was able to move again, Jean-Luc helped her to her feet.

"To the cemetery?" he asked, and she nodded in response.

The journey was longer that she'd even imagined, her every breath searing her lungs, her every step sending daggers of pain through her. She was determined not to stop. If she did, she'd collapse and she would not allow that to happen. She would be damned if she'd sacrificed herself for nothing.

He was waiting for them., kneeling beside Felisa Howard's grave tending the flowers he'd caused to grow there.

He didn't look up as they approached. "Shouldn't you have taken her to the infirmary?"

Beverly was too weak to speak, and she sank onto the ledge of grass above Nana's grave. Jean-Luc spoke for the both of them. "Does she matter to you? As anything but a means of survival?"

Ronin sighed. "You speak of survival as though it were such a trivial matter. Yet you claim, as a Starfleet captain, to hold it as a supreme value. Did you destroy that creature which killed your security officer? Or the Borg? You even let her persuade you to take one on your precious ship, despite what they had done to you. But me--you're so anxious that I should die, even if it means killing Beverly. Do you feel so little for her, that she matters less than all those strangers?"

"I care for her enough not to watch her be used like this."

"Really, Picard? No one asked you to come here. Beverly didn't call you, you know."

"I will not allow..."

Ronin stood, then, and faced Jean-Luc. "And what gives you the right? Why do you decide her fate? What have you ever given her but pain?"

Picard's eyes widened in shock. This creature, this evil thing was daring to accuse him of causing Beverly pain?

"I am not a monster, you know," Ronin continued in a low voice. He left them to contemplate that sentence as he ventured off to a corner of the graveyard and returned with a piece of bark in his hands. He shoved it at Beverly's lips. "It's willow. Chew on it, or suck it if you can't chew. It will relieve some of the pain. I did learn some things from Felisa."

He turned back to Picard. "I'm not a monster. If only you knew what it had been like. 1648, and somehow I come to be in this strange place, this Earth, not knowing how I got there or remembering from where. Not knowing how I should look, or act, or speak. And the people around me anxious and fearful, distrustful, scared because of Cromwell and his revolution." Gently, he took off his jacket and wrapped it around Beverly, who had begun to shiver. "And then one woman took pity on me, let me board in her home in exchange for chores. People talk about chemistry between lovers, and in our case, it was more literal than usual; Jessel could accommodate anaphasic energy, it acted on her brain as an erotic stimulus. She was a beautiful woman, with a mane of red hair and eyes like diamonds, but she had been misused by men. She wanted me, and I needed her. She knew I wouldn't leave, as the others had, and so we merged."

She sank back done beside Felisa's grave. "I was passed down from mother to daughter, a family legacy. I knew I didn't belong there, but where else was I to go? And I did love them, in my way, as a man loves a woman, as a child loves its mother. I brought pleasure into their lives, and they gave me life. When they left Earth, I left with them. The Howard women had become my home. And then it was Felisa's turn."

He looked over his shoulder at Beverly. "You don't remember her from back then, do you? Before you came here, just after Arvadda. She was so hurt, so frail, from everything--the tragedy, and losing her mother--and I comforted her. She was as lost and hurt as I, and we healed each other and loved each other. She so wanted you to have me, Beverly, to have what we shared. It's why she wrote that diary, so you would know."

Beverly forced herself to turn away, unwilling to be drawn into her tormentor's need.

"And when you said you didn't believe in ghosts that first night, but you accepted me anyway, I thought...I hoped...that finally a woman had come along to whom I could reveal everything, stop pretending to be some myth of an Earth ghost and once again, finally, be myself. You loved me, Beverly. You were going to merge with me. Until he came along and stopped us. Please, love, come back to me. Have pity on me, on yourself; you know I'm the only one who can give you what you need, as you are the only one who can give me what I need."

He vanished, turned into energy, and wrapped himself around Beverly as a soothing blanket of gossamer, soft against her burned and blistered skin. "You're a doctor, Beverly. You save lives. Save mine."

Beverly made a sound, then, soft and almost inaudible, but Jean-Luc heard it and to him it sounded like a yes.

"No!" He screamed, "Leave her alone!" He wanted to somehow tear Ronin away from Beverly, to hit him over and over. He wanted to strike Ronin until the blinding fury that burned inside was driven out. For the first time in his life, Jean-Luc wanted to kill.

And Ronin knew it. The anaphasic being cradled the body of the woman he once loved and realized he had never stopped. It was a moment of epiphany, clearing the last shards of madness from his mind and letting him finally see what he had done. The truth nearly drove him mad again.

The green cloud coalesced into Ronin's human form. He gently lay Beverly down on the soft grass and knelt beside her. There were tears in his eyes. "Beverly, I..."

Jean-Luc struck, the full force of his fury connecting with Ronin as he threw himself onto the man and drove him to the ground. They struggled for a moment, Jean-Luc landing blow after blow on the energy being's face and body. It never occurred to him to wonder why Ronin didn't simply change to energy.