Epilogue
"Would you like to hear a story, little one?" Molly asks the squirming boy in her lap, lips pressed against soft black hair. "About a brave sikh who saved a fair maiden's life."
"Yes, mummy!" Edmund responds excitedly.
"Alright, but then you have to go to sleep."
The hardest thing had been learning to sleep without him, the scent from his sweater dissipating with each passing day. When she became overwhelmed, Molly would bury her nose in Edmunds hair-his soft notes of cardamon and wet grass soothing her.
Their life, Molly's and Edmund's, was surprisingly average. A single mother and child living on the outskirts of London. After the trial and Edmund's birth, Molly had resumed her post as head of StarFleet pathology working everyday above the storage chamber where Khan and his crew slept in their cryo-tubes. Thier cold corpses a cryptic reminder that humanity creates it's own worst problems.
