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Jean Luc and that strange man crash through the door, "Beverly! Stop!"
I'm incredibly annoyed that he's here. That is my theme of the day isn't it? "Go away, Jean Luc!" I cry. This is a personal moment.
Before I can register it, I'm pulled away from the tall man and I'm locked painfully in Jean Luc's arms. "Who are you?" He demands at Ronin.
"Jean Luc!" I struggle against his chest. "Let me go!"
He doesn't, though; his grip tightens and I can't get away. "Beverly and I are going to be together," Ronin states with certaintude.
"She's my wife! How dare you?!" he shouts back forcefully, anger lacing every syllable.
Within a single moment Jean Luc falls away from me. Dumbly I watch him writhe on the floor as a green lines of electricity pulse over him, contorting his body and creating violent convulsions. In a moment I see his eyes roll back into his head before he loses consciousness. Then it all hits me. The absurdity of the situation shocks me before terror and trepidation suffuse my entire being. "Jean Luc!" My husband. My husband: the man that I love and have loved with a persistent fierceness since I was 23 years old. Oh my God. What have I done?
I fall to my knees out of shame and out of concern. My instincts take over and I feel for a pulse. I breathe a sigh of relief when my fingertips register a strong pulsation at his carotid. I watch the rise and fall of his chest. He's only been stunned; he'll wake soon. I'm worried, though, about his heart. It'll be fine, I say. I'll examine him later. He still has a pulse and he's breathing. That's what's important.
"Beverly" there's the voice again. "Beverl-!" Suddenly it's gone as the man from the funeral rushes out of the kitchen with the now-dim candleholder in his grip. "Beverly Picard!" The man's voice is an eclectic mix of Scottish and Northern Irish. "Beverly you've got to destroy this candle!"
I'm still focused on my husband. "Destroy?" I croak through tears of shame that begin ambling a trail down my cheeks.
"Beverly Picard," He implores, "you've got to destroy this candle; it ruined your grandmother and it's going to ruin you!" He's speaking emphatically and all I can focus on is the silly candleholder. It's waving in the air, caught up in his theatric gesticulations.
"How, uh," I fumble. Too many things at once! "How do I do that?" I know he's right. I might not yet understand the why, but seeing what happened to Jean Luc and intuitively gaining the understanding of what was about to happen to me, I'm suddenly eager, amidst the trepidation, to find a way to annihilate that damn candle.
But then a small part of me doesn't want to destroy it…
"Alright," I nod and hold out my hand. "Give me and candle."
"No!" He shakes his head, holding the candle away from me. "I don't trust you to do it alone. I told Felisa to destroy this candle years ago and she never listened! You Howard women are too damn stubborn!"
I'm getting frustrated! "What do you want me to do then?"
He rubs his eyes and takes out a phaser. I haven't seen one of those in a while. He hands me the phaser and the wrought iron receptacle, "Destroy it. Right now. Right here. End your damn Howard curse and leave this place."
My lips start to tremble; I'm overwhelmed. More tears of frustration leak through, "I can't…" What I've experienced with Ronin was incredibly brief. He seems to know me so well and experiencing his presence is like nothing I've ever felt before. It's like being consistently euphoric, almost drugged. But then the lucid part of my brain flicks through images of my children and once again my gaze falls to my husband. "Curse?" I manage.
He drops is shoulders, "The demon who lives in this candle is dangerous, Mrs. Picard. I tried to tell Felisa, but she wouldn't listen. She'd been with him for too long. He comes when she lights the candle. He needs a host and he's been with her for decades. Now, he's coming after you. Don't ruin your life, Beverly." He sighs and holds up the phaser and the candle, "destroy this now and leave this place."
"Demon?" I shudder.
"That's what I call him. I don't know what he is, but that's the best way I can describe him. Beverly, just destroy the candle and do it now."
"Beverly," Jean Luc groans from my feet, "Just do what he says, Beverly. Destroy that thing."
He opens the door and I follow the tall man outside. The weather is stormy and the trees rustle violently in the growing gales. "Do it!" He lays the candle on the ground and hands me the phaser.
Should I do it? Yes, of course Beverly. There's no harm. But, Nana wanted me to have it. Nana wouldn't do anything other than put my best interest at heart, right?
"BEVERLY!" I see the pale form of Ronin approach me. "Don't, Beverly!" There it is again. There's that same longing. My eyes dart from Ronin to the candle to the tall man standing in front of me.
"Beverly stop! I am your love! I'm here for you Beverly! I'm here to protect you!" His voice is emphatic, pleading.
My mind is going at a mile a minute. And then... a third voice cuts through the harsh wind. I'm embraced from behind and a warm kiss falls on my ear. "Do it, Beverly." I don't see him, but his arms are warm and substantive, unlike Ronin's whose are cold and unfeeling. His voice is my comfort and cuts through my confusion like a double-edged sword. "I love you, Beverly." Somehow that's all it takes and I feel my hand on the trigger. My mind forces the nerves going to my hand to comply with its mandate and a steady stream of phaser fire hits the candle. One last shout of my name from Ronin is the last thing I hear as I drop the phaser and melt into the arms of my rock. My sanity.