Disclaimer: Characters not mine. No money with this. Pure and simple fun.
Authors note: I'm sorry, I should be writing other things, but I had a five minutes inspiration. Because it's been done in a rush, I'm sure it's full of errors.
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I remember the old days, when Enterprise crossed the stars, we loved each other and the Universe was perfect.
Nothing is that simple, of course, and much less life, but the memory is a meditation discipline that smoothes the edges until turning the existence into a calm sea that covers the ugly and imperfect fragments.
The discussions that could drive me to madness now are a mere banter or even a prelude to sexual relations. And they… they are always full of passion, devotion and an uncanny gentleness and I'm always focused and giving in them; my mind never wanders in other mundane things like work, or children, or appointments with the Doctor.
And you always smile. In my memories you're showing that beam every time, the same you had when Lorian Charles was born and you caught his little hand with yours. I thought I'd never see you more proud of him, until the day of his Graduation at the Starfleet Academy came.
We all were proud: you, Elizabeth T'Mir and me. And, of course, Admiral Archer, Commodore Hernández and young Keira. Even Lorian was proud of himself.
I can almost see your scowl now, for calling him Lorian Charles or Lorian instead of Charly. But I'm Vulcan and I've never could use nicknames. Elizabeth gets stiff sometimes when she didn't hear the common T'Liz or T'Lizzie. The amusing thing is that she actually gaped the only time I called her T'Liz. Most unusual in a political leader.
They take after you. Lorian, the loyal and amicable man. Elizabeth, the same inquisitive and restless force of Nature. As long as they're alive, you will. Because you were, after all, the one who used to bring live, peace and love to our relationship. I was a mere witness of your charm. A content satellite orbiting your star.
Every day, until the last.
It didn't take me by surprise. Not entirely, at least. Years had past and made your hair white, your bones sore and the wrinkles on the corners of your mouth deepen. But you weren't suffering any disease, nor did you look ill. One day your heart simply stopped. But mine didn't. I expected, I wished, we could leave this life together. But apparently, our bond wasn't strong enough. Not for me.
So I survived, alone. I'm tied to an empty house, to an empty life, with the only consolation of an occasional visit from my children, grandchildren or great-grandchildren, with pointed or rounded ears. My time goes by slowly. I read, I meditate, I walk along the gardens.
And I remember.
I remember the old days, when Enterprise crossed the stars, we loved each other and the Universe was perfect.