I sat on my bed, my lips pursed at the stupid computer's stupid screen. I was in the middle of writing a story, but couldn't figure out this particular scene should go.

The main character, Jel, had gotten himself into a bar fight against an entire band of mercenaries and now had to drunkenly fend them off. I thought maybe the mercenaries should just kidnap him, that would be the easy way out.

But then again, the other, darker, side of my consciousness chimed in, that would make it too easy.

I stared at the screen intently for a few more seconds, thinking that maybe it would give me what I wanted because I willed it. I grimaced, I knew it didn't work like tha- I gasped, snapping my fingers, I got it! A grin formed as I pointed at the screen. Apparently it did work like that. Because I am stabbing him.

The darker side of my consciousness chuckled, darkly. Good, it cooed. Thank you, darker side of my consciousness, plain old kidnapping would've been boring, Jel needed this.

Several minutes were spent in a feverish typing haze, a maniacal grin on my face as I wrote Jel's pain. Then I paused and had to spend a couple more minutes researching where exactly one could get stabbed and still live. Then I started research on types of knives. Which then lead to research on medieval weaponry. Then there was research on how different types of metal affected the making of a weapon. Then I started looking up The Hobbit fanfiction and, after roughly half an hour, Jel was all but forgotten, his Google doc sitting at the forefront of a very long list of tabs I hadn't clicked on in at least a week and yet had no intention of closing.

Just as I finished filtering the Bagginshield tag to exclude any and all incest between the Durins(y'all are nasty btw that shit's gross) and began to scroll down the list, a very distinct sound echoed from downstairs and I froze. The screen door creaked, the back door squeaked, and heavy, drunken footsteps sounded against the kitchen tile.

Dad was home.

Grimacing, I stayed very still as I listened to him stumble down the hall, straining my ears for any sort of indicator of his mood. While I usually knew how to navigate around his mood swings, Dad only had two settings when he was drunk, Sleepy and Angry. If tonight was a Sleepy night then I could just put him to bed and everything would be fine, but if tonight was an Angry night... Well then I'd have better luck quietly slipping out and staying away for a day or two. The footsteps continued down the hall and into the living room, there was a big thump and everything went silent for a moment. Then.

"DELIAH!"

Shit.

"The fuck do you want you prick!?"

Tonight was an angry night. My grimace now a scowl, I swiftly shut my laptop and clambered off my bed, reaching for the bags I kept readily packed under the bed for occasions like this. Sliding my laptop into its' pocket in the backpack, I slung that thing on, grabbed the red duffel bag that lay next to it, shoved my phone, headphones and assorted chargers into my hoodie pockets, and headed for the window, completely and absolutely ready to leave via la ventana. I could still hear Dad and Deliah screaming at each other downstairs as I climbed out onto the roof, refusing to look behind me.

With my overstuffed, unwieldy bags, walking to and sliding down the basketball hoop was made a little more difficult than it usually was, but it wasn't the first time I'd done it and I managed to make it down safely and with only a light bruise on my leg. I took a second to readjust my duffel bag and then set off down the street, running through a list of places I might be able to go and stay until Monday.

Grandma's was too far. I didn't know Aunt Becky well enough. The homeless shelter didn't accept any new walk-ins past eleven at night. I didn't know the way to Dylan's. Kendra's? Hmm. I could probably walk to Kendra's house, she didn't live far, and I'd already shown up to her house for a spontaneous weekend sleepover before, besides, her mom liked me, I could probably get away with it. If not, though... I slowed to a stop, if Kendra was in trouble then I wouldn't be allowed, and I'd have to go sleep in the jungle gym in the neighborhood park. Huffing, I tightened my backpack straps and kept walking. I'd have to risk it. Sleeping outside wasn't the worst thing the happen.

Exhaling softly through my nose, I reached up and rubbed at my forehead. This was far from the first time that I'd had to sneak away from the house, and, as I walked along the dirty dimly lit sidewalk, I toyed with the idea that maybe this time I wouldn't come back. As that thought flitted through my head I scoffed at myself, I already knew that I was going back. I always did. As much I hated my father, I was so much more scared of what would happen to me without him.

Letting a sigh tumble out of my mouth, I came to a stop and rubbed my head, unshed tears blurring my vision. As I was contemplating possible solutions, the voice of Jean-Luc Picard floated into my head, putting a soft smile on my face and causing my eyes to drift upwards, searching for stars.

There is a way out of every box, a solution to every puzzle; it's just a matter of finding it.

I'd watched Star Trek since I was little, and back then it was simply the idea of space exploration that made me interested, but as I got older, and all the philosophy and themes began to make sense, and I began to love it. The Next Generation was my favorite, and Picard seemed to always have some sort of quote that helped me. I hadn't seen every episode of course, but definitely most of them.

It really was a shame the Federation didn't exist, if it had I might've actually tried in school in the hopes of joining it. Oh well.

Unfortunately the stars didn't seem to want to come out tonight, giving me nothing to ogle as I walked along the eerily empty street. Sighing, I lowered my eyes and forced my legs to keep moving. I had been born in the wrong universe. Geez, I shook my head, I sounded so emo and dramatic, I smirked, perfect for Next Gen, I'd fit right in next to Riker. Sighing again, I shook my head and kept moving, college was just around the corner, I reminded myself, just wait for college.

The roads were deserted tonight, it seemed, not a single car had passed me yet, kinda weird now that I thought about it. Like, yeah, it was late, but it wasn't that late, there should still be some cars around. It was like the start of a horror movie, maybe a chainsaw-wielding maniac was hiding around the corner just waiting for a hapless victim such as myself to round it so they could attack. My stride increased ever-so-slightly but, alas, the corner came and went and no chainsaw-wielding maniac was waiting there to hack the life out of me, too bad.

Then again, if it was a chainsaw- wouldn't I be able to hear it? They weren't exactly quiet. Hmm, maybe it would a machete-wielding maniac, but machetes were so generic, I would be very disappointed if I turned out to be just another girl brutally murdered via machete. Maybe a sword then, swords were cool. Yeah, a sword, I decided, nodding to myself, I would only accept being murdered if my murderer was a cool murderer and came at me with an actual medieval sword- maybe a recreation of Dragonbane from Skyrim.

That'd be a cool way to die.

And hey, if I died maybe I would be reborn into Trekverse. While there were a million universes I'd give anything to live in, Star Trek was definitely at the top. It exemplified everything I wanted out of life. Mankind finally having moved past the need for war, total and complete social equality, aliens, spaceships, living a life exploring the stars? Honestly, it sounded like a dream come true. Which, I supposed, was kind of the point.

Letting a rather undignified snort out, I shook my head and kept on trudging along the cracked concrete, if only.

Hoo boy, that concrete was cracked, like wow, it was cracked, how'd it get so cracked? It was the sidewalk, not even an old sidewalk, I'd seen workers pouring the concrete for it last month. Weird. Shaking my head, I kept walking, probably some dumbass 14-year-old white boys who thought they were being cool because they vandalized something. In one of the more cracked parts was a puddle of water, a big one. The streetlight that would've given me ample lighting to look at it was broken, so it sat there in the dark, the liquid practically black. It didn't even look like it had a bottom.

Maybe if I stepped in it I'd fall through to another world.

Quirking my lips up into a sardonic smile, I lifted my boot-clad foot and stepped right in the middle of the puddle.

And I fucking fell.

o.O

This was not a good way to die.

This was most definitely not a good way to die.

I don't know if there actually was a good way to die, but if there was this wasn't it. This wasn't even a cool way to die. I fell through the damn sidewalk.

At least, I think I did, I didn't understand what had happened, I was walking then I was falling and it was freaking me out.

My hair tore back as I plummeted downwards, darkness grabbing at me as I went. Not the ambient darkness that had existed on the street, or the safe, comforting dark that helped the stars shine. This was cold and suffocating, pressing in on me. I couldn't breathe, my mouth flapped open and shut uselessly as I tried to suck in anything. All I could see around me was black and still it seemed like my vision was blacking out, my eyes feeling more and more useless with every second I fell.

This was it. This was where I died. Suffocating after falling through a damn sidewalk.

My head rang, maybe if I could-

Snap

A scream ripped it's way out of my mouth, my now-broken leg crumpled beneath me as I slumped against the ground that was suddenly there. Horrifying pain began radiating from the leg, whiting out my vision and shoving the fact that I could breathe again to the side as it intensified. Gritting my teeth, I tried to control my breaths as my eyes began watering, trying desperately to ignore the pain.

Because oh dear god it hurt.

With my forehead now pressed against what felt like carpet, I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to think about how I was at least somewhere now, instead of that suffocating blackness. The fall through the sidewalk had dropped me someplace, literally, and consequently I broke the leg I had landed on.

And was it broken.

Chancing a glance at it I peeked through my lids and immediately sucked in a breath. Blood. So, so much blood. The skin was mangled and torn, jagged pieces of ripped flesh splitting my thigh with- oh god. My vision swam, was that my bone? My breathing quickened and I clenched my hands around the skin above the break, hot, pained tears began to form, I felt lightheaded. It hurt.

Psssh

The back of my mind vaguely acknowledged the sound of compressed air, and something told me to look where it came from, but that went largely ignored as I stared at the red now coating my hands.

"Are you alright?"

"Oh my god!"

"What happened?"

"Who is that?"

Heavy stomps rang in my ears as the floor shook with the pounding of feet, the sheer noise of it all causing my vision to waver and a splitting pain in my head. People were talking, louder and louder and over each other. Their voices were nagging and insistent but the meanings of the words were lost. Oh my head.

Pain. Pain everywhere. My leg throbbed and my head screamed. Everything was blurry and colors began to fade.

Not a cool way to die my head echoed one last time as the floor rushed closer.

o.O

Oh. Ow. Ugh.

Intense aching was the first thing I felt as the first tendrils of consciousness began stroke my mind. Was I groaning? I feel like I might've been but I couldn't tell. There was something warm pressing up on my face in an almost comforting way. My eyelids felt nailed shut and it was a few moments before my head cleared enough to process that someone was trying to talk to me.

"-any pain? Can you hear me?" A soft voice called out, gentle and reassuring.

I should... I should respond, shouldn't I?

Managing a groan, I felt my head nod a little and I heard a small sigh.

"That's good," whoever was there sounded relieved. The pressure on my cheek disappeared and I found myself missing it. Something clattered nearby and a small, cold object was pushed against the side of my neck.

A sharp prick and a short hiss later and the thing was gone. Almost immediately I felt better, my head cleared completely, the weight on my being lifted and the pain was gone.

Another groan tumbled out of my mouth and I felt control of my limbs again. "Can you tell me your name?" The voice asked, I groaned, a mumbled response falling from my lips. I was groaning a lot, wasn't I? Oh well.

"What was that?"

Then again, I should probably let other people could understand me. Grimacing, I propped myself up onto my elbows and a steady pair of hands grasped my arms, guiding me to sit up.

Was I on a bed? It felt like I was on a bed, I grimaced, I hated sitting on beds with my legs outstretched like that, it was awkward. Taking a deep breath, I cracked my eyelids open.

And immediately closed them, oh wow that light was attacking my eyes. Wincing slightly, I began the process of blinking them open, letting them adjust to the light before actually opening then again, I could still feel the imprint of the searing light and I was not going to repeat it. With my eyes finally open, I peeked at my leg.

Which was laid there distinctly not broken.

I felt my brow crinkle, what the hell? Had it all been a dream?

No, I internally shook my head, it hadn't been, there was no way I dreamed up that sort of pain. "Umm," my voice sounded shaky, "How.. how did..?" I trailed off, poking my leg to make sure, all that I felt was smooth skin, no bone, no blood, just skin. What the fuck?

Did I go into a coma and sleep for five years? No, my legs didn't look atrophied, I was still wearing my shorts.

What in the fuck?

"You broke your leg," my eyes remained locked on my not-broken leg as the same voice from earlier began, "It was a bad fracture, but luckily we got to you before you bled out." Something was off, it nagged at me, something was wrong. "What's your name?" The voice asked again, it was patient and calm, which settled my nerves some. Slowly, I drew my attention away from my leg, looking to find the owner of the voice.

I blinked. And blinked.

Doctor Motherflippin Beverly Crusher was smiling down at me from her spot next to my bed, none other than Lieutenant Goddamn Worf Rozchenko right behind her glowering.

Yeah. No.

I blinked again, a strange sort of 'uhh' sound falling from my lips.

This was definitely a dream.

It had to be.