I lie awake in the darkness of his quarters, his rhythmic breathing and the heartbeat thudding in my ear almost enough to put me to sleep. Almost. Today was another close call, and I can't bear to close my eyes. Today, I was forced to realize just how much I love him, how much it will hurt when I lose him. Every time I see him step through the hatch on one of those damned shuttle pods, every time the shimmering glow of the transporter steals him away, I know it could be the last time. It could mean no more gentle kisses stolen in a quiet corridor; no more harsh whispers of 'I love you' amid a night of hot passion; no more watching him across the table during the morning briefing; no more of our hidden romance. It could mean weeping over his grave on a sticky summer afternoon in San Francisco.
I feel him squirm beneath me and I draw myself all the nearer to him. He moans softly, the rises in the darkness, coming to rest on his elbows. "Malcolm, you up?" he asks the inky black in that Southern drawl I fell for so long ago.
"Eternally," I answer, sitting up myself. He reaches out, grabbing my chin and drawing me into him. For a long moment, he holds me to him, rocking slightly back and forth. "I love you," he whispers into the top of my head.
"I love you so much." I put my hand on his shoulder, lightly touch his cheek, and give him all the answer he'll ever need. It's understood that eventually one of us won't come back, but for now we'll make the most of every minute Fate spares us.