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).

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"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.
