The first few weeks after Silla awoke were hard on the couple; they had seven years of catching up to do, and no time to themselves to do it in.
Tem and Silla had always been very physical, never all over each other in any sense of the phrase, but they never missed a chance to have some, any, sort of contact.
Working on the same side of a lab table so that they could lean against each other, shoulders in almost constant contact.
The lightest brush of fingers when one would pass something to the other.
Tem waiting behind Silla, arms around her waist, chin on her shoulder, watching while she tested plant samples.
Silla, working across the table from Tem, reaching up to brush away a strand of hair that had fallen in his eyes while both his hands were busy.
Simple things, washing their hands in the same basin at the same time.
Eating side by side at meals.
Sharing a room-and a bed-even if all they did was sleep there.
Anyone who came across them in the Garden, or the Observatory, on the Promenade, anywhere really, took them to be sweethearts, newlyweds at most, not a couple that was three years away from a tenth anniversary at the time Silla put herself under.
The first few weeks after Silla was revived, and the Cure went into distribution, were a near-constant stream of conferences and interviews.
The two still managed though, holding hands behind the podium at press conferences.
Sitting side by side for interviews.
Stealing kisses while the focus was on one of the other researchers during Holo-net conferences.
Then one night they found themselves blessedly alone, sitting on a bench in a quiet corner of the Garden.
It was well past Station Sunset, so the only light was ambient starglow, the occasional firefly, and of course, one of Silla's pet projects, the bioluminescent lanternvine.
All in all there was enough light to see by, and it was a friendly glow.
They sat in silence for a while, holding hands, Silla's head resting against Tem's shoulder, Tem's head against Silla's.
They weren't silent because there was nothing to be said. They were silent because there was nothing that had to be said.
Eventually Tem broke the silence with a question, "You know what today is, right?"
Silla nodded, reluctant to move her head from where it fit so perfectly against Tem's shoulder, "It's our anniversary. Eighth for me, fifteenth for you."
Tem chuckled, shaking his head, "Eighth for both of us love."
Silla blinked, lifting her head to look Tem in the eyes, "The Cure... the one question no one's asked yet..." She held his face between her hands, eyes locked with his, "Tem, can the Cure be used as an Immortality Potion?"
Tem blinked, surprised for a moment at her vehemence, "Only under the right conditions, which very few people, maybe one in every few thousand, outside of a lab would have."
She still didn't let go, with hands or eyes, "Tell me how it works Tem."
Tem carefully took Silla's hands from his face, holding them between his own, "Your research is what finally cinched it, your nematodes for keeping plants alive after they've been picked. The Cure is a retrovirus, keyed into the healthy cells, the ones that are the right age, and it burns through, eats anything older than that, replacing it with regenerated healthy cells, it's self-replicating and ages at the same rate as the host body, so that it still burns through any advanced aging, but not the normal aging process. Does that make any sense?"
Silla nodded, "How did you use it effectively on yourself?"
Tem blinked, holding Silla's hands fore firmly as they began to shake, "You know that we take cell samples from each of the research team, at the beginning of winter, and the beginning of summer every year. Every six months, like clockwork, it was your policy after all, in case something went wrong. All I had to do was key the retrovirus to my sample from winter seven years ago."
Silla was trembling, "Tem, you know the rules, the /laws/ about Immortality Potions."
Tem nodded, holding Silla's hands a moment longer before drawing her close and wrapping her in a protective hug, "I know Sil, and I haven't broken any of them outright. The Cure was never intended to be an Immortality Potion, and I wasn't even sure it would work as one, and I wasn't using it for any other reason than to re-gain seven years with you. Seven years isn't that long in the grand scheme of things, but without you, they seemed like an eternity."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Tem and Silla had always been very physical, never all over each other in any sense of the phrase, but they never missed a chance to have some, any, sort of contact.
Working on the same side of a lab table so that they could lean against each other, shoulders in almost constant contact.
The lightest brush of fingers when one would pass something to the other.
Tem waiting behind Silla, arms around her waist, chin on her shoulder, watching while she tested plant samples.
Silla, working across the table from Tem, reaching up to brush away a strand of hair that had fallen in his eyes while both his hands were busy.
Simple things, washing their hands in the same basin at the same time.
Eating side by side at meals.
Sharing a room-and a bed-even if all they did was sleep there.
Anyone who came across them in the Garden, or the Observatory, on the Promenade, anywhere really, took them to be sweethearts, newlyweds at most, not a couple that was three years away from a tenth anniversary at the time Silla put herself under.
The first few weeks after Silla was revived, and the Cure went into distribution, were a near-constant stream of conferences and interviews.
The two still managed though, holding hands behind the podium at press conferences.
Sitting side by side for interviews.
Stealing kisses while the focus was on one of the other researchers during Holo-net conferences.
Then one night they found themselves blessedly alone, sitting on a bench in a quiet corner of the Garden.
It was well past Station Sunset, so the only light was ambient starglow, the occasional firefly, and of course, one of Silla's pet projects, the bioluminescent lanternvine.
All in all there was enough light to see by, and it was a friendly glow.
They sat in silence for a while, holding hands, Silla's head resting against Tem's shoulder, Tem's head against Silla's.
They weren't silent because there was nothing to be said. They were silent because there was nothing that had to be said.
Eventually Tem broke the silence with a question, "You know what today is, right?"
Silla nodded, reluctant to move her head from where it fit so perfectly against Tem's shoulder, "It's our anniversary. Eighth for me, fifteenth for you."
Tem chuckled, shaking his head, "Eighth for both of us love."
Silla blinked, lifting her head to look Tem in the eyes, "The Cure... the one question no one's asked yet..." She held his face between her hands, eyes locked with his, "Tem, can the Cure be used as an Immortality Potion?"
Tem blinked, surprised for a moment at her vehemence, "Only under the right conditions, which very few people, maybe one in every few thousand, outside of a lab would have."
She still didn't let go, with hands or eyes, "Tell me how it works Tem."
Tem carefully took Silla's hands from his face, holding them between his own, "Your research is what finally cinched it, your nematodes for keeping plants alive after they've been picked. The Cure is a retrovirus, keyed into the healthy cells, the ones that are the right age, and it burns through, eats anything older than that, replacing it with regenerated healthy cells, it's self-replicating and ages at the same rate as the host body, so that it still burns through any advanced aging, but not the normal aging process. Does that make any sense?"
Silla nodded, "How did you use it effectively on yourself?"
Tem blinked, holding Silla's hands fore firmly as they began to shake, "You know that we take cell samples from each of the research team, at the beginning of winter, and the beginning of summer every year. Every six months, like clockwork, it was your policy after all, in case something went wrong. All I had to do was key the retrovirus to my sample from winter seven years ago."
Silla was trembling, "Tem, you know the rules, the /laws/ about Immortality Potions."
Tem nodded, holding Silla's hands a moment longer before drawing her close and wrapping her in a protective hug, "I know Sil, and I haven't broken any of them outright. The Cure was never intended to be an Immortality Potion, and I wasn't even sure it would work as one, and I wasn't using it for any other reason than to re-gain seven years with you. Seven years isn't that long in the grand scheme of things, but without you, they seemed like an eternity."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~