A/N: Well big breath here goes. My first post here at FFN.
This story is a 500 word drabble written for the drabble challenges over at the Knossos forum ( http://tzpknossos(dot)proboards53(dot)com/). The drabble prompt was "Post-Shadows Separation". At the end of the Zeta Project episode "Shadows", Zee once again tries to get Ro to leave him for her own safety. Of course, Ro politely declines to leave. Uh, being Ro, 'politely declining' takes this form: "Whoa! Time out! Get this through that big fat can up there you call a head. It's my decision, and my risk. I can live with it. Besides, I'm not gonna let you run off and have all the fun."
The prompt encouraged us to imagine what would happen if Zee had been successful in persuading Ro to leave him at the end of "Shadows"...Hope you'll let me know what you think of the story by leaving a review!
O
The Whitmore Hotel was old and grand, wearing its age well. Surprisingly, they had a vacancy even at this hour, one of their more expensive suites. Zee thought Ro would have loved it. The room was opulent, the bed inviting, the pillows high and soft on the broad expanse of cool white sheets. Ro would have arched into a high dive from four feet away, landing on the bed with a bounce, a giggle, and a wide sigh of contentment. But she wasn't here.
He set the gift shop bag on the bathroom counter, considering his purchases: toothpaste, soap, shampoo, all of her favorites. He splashed shampoo into the bathtub, added the unwrapped soap, and turned the shower on high, hot water soon filling the air with billows of rose and jasmine scented steam. A thick ribbon of toothpaste squeezed into the sink brought the bright odor of peppermint. He looked into the rapidly fogging mirror, half expecting to see Ro step out of the mist. She remained gone, safe, a thousand miles away.
Room service arrived, and with it the tangy fragrance of cheeseburger, fries and chocolate shake, extra thick. Ro should be out of the bathroom now, emerging damply to harass him on his choice of vid programs, french fry in one hand while the other pushed straggles of wet blonde hair into the plush white towel piled on top of her head. She'd wear her favorite pale blue pajamas, sitting cross-legged on the corner of the bed, while she watched the program he'd chosen and patiently answered his endless questions.
All that came from the bathroom was the hollow sound of running water, and lost curls of fog that quickly disappeared in the barren air. He turned the chair from the twilight cityscape view, and sat so he could see the bed where she should be sleeping, lost in the uncharted pathways of human dreaming.
He had thought knowing she was safe would be a relief, losing the burden of worry about the hidden frailties of his fragile human companion, of being able to meet her needs for food, shelter, rest. It was true that in these last weeks of moving at his own inhuman pace, able to travel for days without stopping, he had felt a difference. He realized now, gazing at the empty bed, that it was not relief he felt, or happiness that she was safe. It was something new to him, an unfamiliar addition to his emotional spectrum.
In the time that he had traveled with Ro, he had learned something new from her every day, things he could trust in, things he could be certain of. Even in her absence, she was still teaching him. He brushed a fingertip across the cool sheets. He heard her laughter in his mind, saw her smiling face, felt the sudden warmth of her hand in his. Before he met Ro, he had merely been alone. Now that she was gone, he knew what loneliness was…