Title: Just For a Moment Author: Cait N. Series: TOS Rating: R Codes: Sp/Ch; WARNING: Character Death! Parts: 1/1 Summary: Near the end, Spock remembers. Disclaimer: Paramount owns the characters, but the story is mine. Archiving: ChFF, asceml, yes. Everyone else please ask. Feedback: Please! caitn at mindspring.com Note: Written for the 1st round of the Christine Chapel Fanfiction Fest. <http://www.cosmicduckling.com/sweetheart/> This is my first attempt at a palindrome. Palindrome (noun) - a word, phrase, passage, or number that reads the same forward and backward (in this instance, a passage that reads the same forward and backward by sentence). = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = "Just For a Moment" copyright September 2004 Cait N. I can still see her lying there, silhouetted in the moonlight. Her smile warms me and lets me know that maybe my life wasn't meaningless after all. "I love you, Spock, I always have," she whispers. I don't deserve her. Tears stream down my face. In her eyes I see reflections of lazy afternoons spent tangled in the sheets, her hands light as dust motes on my skin. She loves touching me almost as much as I love to touch her. Almost, but not quite. Her breasts are full with just the hint of gravity intervening; they've always been my weakness. Soft, round globes fit my hands as perfectly as they did when we were first married. It's not true what they say about marriage breeding familiarity -- every day was a new experience, one I wouldn't have wanted to share with anyone else. I could remember every single moment. And now as I watch her body wasting away, machines and wires and beeps, it's all I can do to hold on and not break down. She looks into my eyes, a ghost of her former self and I squeeze her hand, feel her slipping away. I could remember every single moment. It's not true what they say about marriage breeding familiarity -- every day was a new experience, one I wouldn't have wanted to share with anyone else. Soft, round globes fit my hands as perfectly as they did when we were first married; they've always been my weakness. Her breasts are full with just the hint of gravity intervening. Almost, but not quite. She loves touching me almost as much as I love touching her. In her eyes I see reflections of lazy afternoons spent tangled in the sheets, her hands light as dust motes on my skin. Tears stream down my face. I don't deserve her. "I love you, Spock, I always have," she whispers. Her smile warms me and lets me know that maybe my life wasn't meaningless after all. I can still see her lying there, silhouetted in the moonlight.