Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. I can't own the characters. I will never own the characters. I certainly do not make any money from the characters.
Notes: Very short mush-fest!
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07:36
by StellaMaru
To my husband, on the occasion of our fortieth anniversary.
My love,
I am taking our little tradition and setting in writing this year. I don't feel right waiting until you return; maybe I am a bit superstitious, but I feel the need for you to read this on the very day, not five days later. It pleases me to know that you will read this while on Vulcan, surrounded by unemotional beings. T'Pol might appreciate the impulse... Maybe not. Please tell her how much I enjoyed the game--and that little Mal has already surpassed his scatterbrained grandmother! We may have a Vulcan in our midst, hm?
Perhaps I am feeling more than a little nostalgic, perhaps I am simply doing as I always have when faced with an emotional time--turning to words. This is the first time in forty years that we will be apart on this day... How we have managed to maintain Starfleet careers and yet always be together to mark our anniversary is quite beyond me.
Don't think that I didn't want you to go. This is a great honor for you--and I admit I have been puffing up my chest and bragging about my famous husband to the rest of the faculty--and it makes me so happy and proud to know you'll be the ranking officer on Charlie's first mission. Think of that, four children and only our youngest chose to follow in his parents' footsteps. I have bigger hopes for the grandchildren. Don't tell Tamiko, but I think both Mal and Katie may be headed for the uniform. Their silly old granny's adventure stories wouldn't have anything to do with it, I'm sure!
Ah, my love, I miss you though. I never tire of saying that: "my love." You are my love, my life, my own dear one. Shall I begin our tradition? hmm...
I remember the day--no, the precise moment--that I fell in love with you. It wasn't because of your eyes, though they are deep and honest. It wasn't your nose, though it brushed my ear and made me shiver. It wasn't your lips, though they are soft and sweet. It wasn't your arms, though they are strong and you held me tight. It was your voice, low and clear, and your words, whispered to me after breakfast, forty years ago: "Hoshi... I think, I mean, you wouldn't want to maybe... I mean, we could, if you want..."
You see? I remember every stammer, every false start, every pause. You were always strong and cavalier, yet when you approached me you were so nervous. I looked in your eyes and knew. Just knew. "Yes, I would like that," I replied, and your eyes lit up like warp cores. Forty years ago tomorrow at 07:36 I fell in love with you. This anniversary is somehow more important to me than the day we told the rest of the crew, or the day you proposed, or the day we married.
Why you chose me remains a mystery. I was so young and nervous and worried about my place on such an important mission. I can hear you saying now: "you should talk, calling me old..." ha! You were different though, confident where I was weak, quiet where I was noisy.
I imagined I was in love with Malcolm for a while, you know. Of course you know. He was also quiet and strong, yet he wanted something more than just love--he wanted family. He wanted to belong. He'd deny it from here to the moon, but it's true nonetheless. I'm glad he found family on Enterprise, and something like love, if only for a few years. Imagine, his son marrying Tamiko! Our little family keeps getting more and more entangled as the years pass.
I imagined I was in love with Trip for a while as well. You know that, too. He was brash and wild in ways I wished I could be. I knew when he loved, even if only for a brief time, he'd love with his entire soul. He was impatient, and it frightened me.
Then you... You loved with your soul, your mind, your body. You were quiet and strong, yet brash and wild when you wanted to be. You made me laugh, you held me when I was weak, you filled me with joy.
You have my heart, Travis, my love.