Ach Linds! Am I that predictable? :)
I must say, being in prison is a new experience and one that I never thought that I'd add to my patina of interesting life occurrences. But, I laugh, interesting life occurrences are something that I seem to be wracking up these days…
I haven't spoken with a soul in about a day. Because I'm allegedly a convicted murderer, I've been relegated to solitary confinement. I'm not complaining, though. I'd rather be on my own than having to fend for my own safety amid a hub of actual convicts.
The hours peel past as I stare listlessly at the white walls and I can't keep my thoughts off my husband. I can't stop seeing his face, calm in the moments before our apprehension. My forehead remains indented with that one final kiss. Like a lovesick teenager, I won't even touch the spot; I'm somehow afraid that I'll wipe away his essence.
But, my thoughts are not only consumed with Jean Luc. No. When I dream, I dream of Jack. I see his sharp features, his angled jaw; I feel his anger and his seething, malicious hatred. Uselessly, I try to remember back 20 some odd years ago. Were there warning signs? Could I have known who he truly was? Could Jean Luc? From Jack, my mind strays to my handsome son and I can't even begin to imagine what he's feeling. I'm brought back to the way he pushed me aside in disgust not too long ago. Sitting here, I'm afraid he'll somehow hate me for all of this one day... Thoughts of Wesley flow naturally to Saoirse and Aaron. They're safe, I console myself. I know that whatever happens, Hope and Gregg will take care of them and they'll be loved.
I pull my legs into my chest and lay my head on my bony knees and think again of Wes and Jean Luc. I'm grateful that Wesley has had Jean Luc to be his father. A smile quirks on my face: "He calls him 'dad' now…"
Lost in my pleasant daydream I don't hear the grind of metal on metal. It's almost comical that in modern Earth Prisons, they've forgone the hydraulic door or enforced force fields. No, here they've left us with good, old-fashioned heavy alloy. I suppose they think it adds to the penal milieu…
The thick door to my cell slams open and a heavyset female guard harkens me. "Picard, Beverly. You're being released."
I look up, not registering what she just said. "What?" I repeat, in case my ears are playing tricks on me.
"Get up! let's go," The guard barks.
"Why?" I repeat, hopeful.
She looks at me directly and rolls her eyes. "Your husband confessed. Said it was pre-meditated..."
My blood freezes in my veins. "What?" My legs won't move and dread and anguish overtake me.
The guard ushers me out again, this time taking my arm and making sure that I actually leave the cell. "And, uh," she sounds behind me in her gruff voice. "Someone's waiting for you."