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From: captain973@aol.com (Captain973)
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
Subject: NEW STORY: "Evening Epilogue" (1/1, P/C)
Date: 29 Feb 1996 00:00:00 -0500
Organization: America Online, Inc. (1-800-827-6364)
Lines: 129
Sender: root@newsbf02.news.aol.com
Message-ID: <4h3bsg$dre@newsbf02.news.aol.com>
Reply-To: captain973@aol.com (Captain973)
NNTP-Posting-Host: newsbf02.mail.aol.com
Status: N

	Disclaimer: Paramount is god. I humbly kneel before them in thanks
for allowing me to
borrow their characters for my modest offering below. Praise be to
Paramount.

	Author's note: This takes place. . .sometime. . .um, let's see. .
..Let's say after "All Good
Things. . ." That works.

	Feel free to pass along this story, but please do not separate my
name or this message
from it. After all, it *is* mine, for better or for worse, and a little
credit never hurt anyone. :)

	Please send comments to Captain973@aol.com.

Evening Epilogue
By
Melissa Zander


	Thump.
	Thump.
	Thump.

	She awoke to the sound of rhythmic thumping beneath her ear, and
the feel of warm skin
rising and falling under her head.
	Her eyes opened, taking a moment to adjust for the dimness of the
bedroom. When they
finally did so, she lifted her head and studied the face of the man whose
body slumbered
peacefully beside her, and whose arms were wrapped securely around her,
holding her in a
loving embrace.
	So rare was the opportunity to study this face up close; the face
of her commanding
officer, best friend, and now, lover. It was a noble face, relaxed in
sleep; she could, however,
trace each line, and know where they came from: the delicate creases at
the corner of his eyes
that crinkled when he smiled; the deep grooves around his mouth; his warm,
soft, tender mouth,
and the valleys that etched across his forehead, that deepened in thought,
and smoothed in
relaxation.
	All those lines were virtually gone now, as he slept, unknowingly
being scrutinized. She
enjoyed every moment of her study. It helped to reinforce the memories she
had of day-to-day
life with him, and of earlier that night, when she learned things about
him she never knew, as he
held her in his arms passionately for the first time.
	They had waited so long for last night. . .too long. It was a
night that both knew had to
eventually come, but tried to stave off for as long as possible. Even up
to the last moment, up to
the point of no return, they fought it.
	Fortunately, this time they lost.

	She replayed the events of that night in her mind; trying to
figure out what was different,
out of the ordinary, or unusual that occasioned their long-awaited-for
liaison.
	He had invited her to dinner. That, in itself was not unusual.
They often had dinner
together several night of the week. They ate, nor drank, nothing out of
the ordinary. Their after-
dinner talk contained no different material. It was normal and
comfortable.
	At least it was until, for some unexplicable reason, her hand
reached out to him and
caressed his cheek, even as her brain was screaming at her to back off.
	Until he grasped her hand in his and kissed the palm, and then
each finger.
	Until she outstretched her other hand and brought it to rest
behind his neck, and pulled
him forward until her lips met his.
	Until his mouth opened beneath hers, and they plundered for any
and all secrets
contained inside.
	Until clothing began to loosen and fall, unneeded and forgotten,
to the floor.
	Until he stood and carried her into his bedroom and stretched out
beside her on his bed.
	Until, forgetting everything but each other and a need, a hunger,
that required satiating,
they made love into the wee hours of the night.

	And here they were.
	She wondered what would happen when he awoke. They hadn't exactly
stopped and had
a heart to heart talk in the midst of their passion. In fact, she doubted
that either one of them
were capable of coherent speech at that time.
	Would he be regretful? Horrified? Exalted? Content? She had no way
of knowing, except
to base her speculations on what she knew of the man. That knowledge in
itself was
considerable.
	She loved him. She knew that as sure as she knew she lived and
breathed. And she was
confident that his feelings matched hers.
	But, after twenty-five years of friendship, could their
relationship survive their night of
abandon?

	Just then, his breathing pattern changed, and he stirred. She
glanced up to see his
warm, hazel eyes glittering in the darkness, focusing on their vibrant
blue mates. Then, he
smiled, and hugged her close, and his mouth covered hers in a warm,
middle-of-the-night hello.

	She could feel his heartbeat against her back, as he held her
close. Their skins slowly
dried, and their heartbeats returned to normal, slowing finally after
their passion.

	And she had an answer to her question.

****^****^****^****^****^****^****

"All of us have violent instincts. We have evolved from predators.
....Well, not me, of course. I've just been programmed by you predators."

---The Holographic Doctor, ST: Voyager

****^****^****^****^****^****^****
Path: inforamp.net!news.nstn.ca!news.dal.ca!torn!howland.reston.ans.net!news-e2a.gnn.com!newstf01.news.aol.com!newsbf02.news.aol.com!not-for-mail
From: captain973@aol.com (Captain973)
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
Subject: NEW STORY: "Evening Epilogue" (1/1, P/C)
Date: 29 Feb 1996 00:00:00 -0500
Organization: America Online, Inc. (1-800-827-6364)
Lines: 129
Sender: root@newsbf02.news.aol.com
Message-ID: <4h3bsg$dre@newsbf02.news.aol.com>
Reply-To: captain973@aol.com (Captain973)
NNTP-Posting-Host: newsbf02.mail.aol.com
Status: N

	Disclaimer: Paramount is god. I humbly kneel before them in thanks
for allowing me to
borrow their characters for my modest offering below. Praise be to
Paramount.

	Author's note: This takes place. . .sometime. . .um, let's see. .
..Let's say after "All Good
Things. . ." That works.

	Feel free to pass along this story, but please do not separate my
name or this message
from it. After all, it *is* mine, for better or for worse, and a little
credit never hurt anyone. :)

	Please send comments to Captain973@aol.com.

Evening Epilogue
By
Melissa Zander


	Thump.
	Thump.
	Thump.

	She awoke to the sound of rhythmic thumping beneath her ear, and
the feel of warm skin
rising and falling under her head.
	Her eyes opened, taking a moment to adjust for the dimness of the
bedroom. When they
finally did so, she lifted her head and studied the face of the man whose
body slumbered
peacefully beside her, and whose arms were wrapped securely around her,
holding her in a
loving embrace.
	So rare was the opportunity to study this face up close; the face
of her commanding
officer, best friend, and now, lover. It was a noble face, relaxed in
sleep; she could, however,
trace each line, and know where they came from: the delicate creases at
the corner of his eyes
that crinkled when he smiled; the deep grooves around his mouth; his warm,
soft, tender mouth,
and the valleys that etched across his forehead, that deepened in thought,
and smoothed in
relaxation.
	All those lines were virtually gone now, as he slept, unknowingly
being scrutinized. She
enjoyed every moment of her study. It helped to reinforce the memories she
had of day-to-day
life with him, and of earlier that night, when she learned things about
him she never knew, as he
held her in his arms passionately for the first time.
	They had waited so long for last night. . .too long. It was a
night that both knew had to
eventually come, but tried to stave off for as long as possible. Even up
to the last moment, up to
the point of no return, they fought it.
	Fortunately, this time they lost.

	She replayed the events of that night in her mind; trying to
figure out what was different,
out of the ordinary, or unusual that occasioned their long-awaited-for
liaison.
	He had invited her to dinner. That, in itself was not unusual.
They often had dinner
together several night of the week. They ate, nor drank, nothing out of
the ordinary. Their after-
dinner talk contained no different material. It was normal and
comfortable.
	At least it was until, for some unexplicable reason, her hand
reached out to him and
caressed his cheek, even as her brain was screaming at her to back off.
	Until he grasped her hand in his and kissed the palm, and then
each finger.
	Until she outstretched her other hand and brought it to rest
behind his neck, and pulled
him forward until her lips met his.
	Until his mouth opened beneath hers, and they plundered for any
and all secrets
contained inside.
	Until clothing began to loosen and fall, unneeded and forgotten,
to the floor.
	Until he stood and carried her into his bedroom and stretched out
beside her on his bed.
	Until, forgetting everything but each other and a need, a hunger,
that required satiating,
they made love into the wee hours of the night.

	And here they were.
	She wondered what would happen when he awoke. They hadn't exactly
stopped and had
a heart to heart talk in the midst of their passion. In fact, she doubted
that either one of them
were capable of coherent speech at that time.
	Would he be regretful? Horrified? Exalted? Content? She had no way
of knowing, except
to base her speculations on what she knew of the man. That knowledge in
itself was
considerable.
	She loved him. She knew that as sure as she knew she lived and
breathed. And she was
confident that his feelings matched hers.
	But, after twenty-five years of friendship, could their
relationship survive their night of
abandon?

	Just then, his breathing pattern changed, and he stirred. She
glanced up to see his
warm, hazel eyes glittering in the darkness, focusing on their vibrant
blue mates. Then, he
smiled, and hugged her close, and his mouth covered hers in a warm,
middle-of-the-night hello.

	She could feel his heartbeat against her back, as he held her
close. Their skins slowly
dried, and their heartbeats returned to normal, slowing finally after
their passion.

	And she had an answer to her question.

****^****^****^****^****^****^****

"All of us have violent instincts. We have evolved from predators.
....Well, not me, of course. I've just been programmed by you predators."

---The Holographic Doctor, ST: Voyager

****^****^****^****^****^****^****