3 weeks.
All things considered, it was hardly a romance for the ages.
It had still hurt though. The brevity of their relationship didn't make the aftermath any less painful. That 'we need to talk' encounter had been a veritable shock to the system, like hitting a brick wall or being plunged into icy water. It was unsurprising, the struggle to breathe that followed.
The only saving grace in those few weeks, post-breakup was the potential (the personal promise) that they might get back together again. In the end, life and fate wouldn't allow. Death and 3 million years of waiting had reduced such childish fantasies to ash.
All that remained of their 3 week love affair were the memories, slightly soured now, and a single picture.
The picture was as scornful as it was soothing. Some days it helped. Often it didn't. It seemed to help less and less nowadays.
The pair of them, captured in time. Lister and Kochanski: entwined in each other's affection, grinning like fools, unabashedly happy.
"You'll drive yourself mad doing that" – a voice broke through the white-noise of nostalgia and self-pity.
Kochanski tore her eyes away from the photograph, finger-worn and crinkled from use. She murmured a noise, deciding to let her bunkmate do the interpreting. Was she agreeing or was it simple acknowledgement. Who knew.
Her bunkmate, Sally, offered a smile – slightly patronising but heartfelt at least. "Staring at that" she gently gestured to the picture clasped in Kochanski's hands "You'll make yourself miserable, Kris"
Kochanski made her standard, non-committal noise again and the matter was dropped, for now at least.
Sally was right though. She often was and Kochanski hated her ever so slightly for it.
On the days when Kochanski was feeling generous, she'd describe Sally as practical. If she wasn't feeling generous, she was dull. Tirelessly logical and straightforward.
Holly had described her as "completely inobjectionable" when Kochanski had questioned him about his choice of hologram.
Kochanski, still dizzy and raw with the grief of losing everything had asked "Why not Dave?"
"I don't think that's a good idea..." had replied Holly, with a gentleness so tender and unexpected that it stung.
So that left her where she was now. Alone, save for a tediously bland bunkmate, a computer lacking the smarts and a creature whose family tree included several ancestors by the name 'Tiddles'.
Alone. Just her and this picture. Her Dave.
Letting herself fall into those eyes once again, Kochanski drank in their warmth. She'd travel galaxies just to look in those eyes again.
She gently traced her fingers across Dave's face. A single tear spilled onto her cheek. "One day..." she whispered.