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Beverly felt his light touch on the outside of her arms,

tracing the contours, dipping down to glide over her waist,

and back again. He used just the right amount of pressure;

gentle enough to arouse her, but not too light to tickle.

She smiled, and opened her eyes.

Jean-Luc was leaning over her, looking at her as if he was

a bear, and she the honey. A grin spread across his aged

face. "It's almost morning, sleepy head."

She stretched, letting the cover slip down and over her

bare breasts. She saw his gaze shift and almost laughed

aloud. He hadn't been joking when he'd told her he was a

"breast man."

He brought a hand up and cupped her breast, kneading it

gently. "We still have some time," he said, arousal

flaring in his eyes.

Beverly could feel his erection pressing against her hip,

as he lowered his lips to hers.

After their passion was spent, he collapsed on the bed

beside her, sweat glistening on his skin. He gathered

Beverly close to his side, burying his face in her hair and

inhaling deeply. She always smelled of lilacs; he was

never able to smell them without thinking of her.

He watched as she fell asleep, wanting to imprint every

last detail on his mind forever. Morning was his favorite

time of the day. He loved the way the faint light played

across Beverly's bare skin, playing hide and seek with the

shadows. Sometimes he spent hours staring at her, tracing

the lines between light and dark, marveling at just how

lucky one man could get. She looked so peaceful lying

there sleeping, he always hated to wake her up.

---

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The dawn was just peeking in through the curtained windows

when Beverly stirred again. It only took her a second to

realize what had awoken her - Jean-Luc was thrashing around

on the bed beside her, in the throes of a seizure.

Beverly quickly reached for the hypo on the bedside table,

and administered the drug. In moments, his movements

stilled, though his breathing was still shallow and raspy.

She ran a tricorder over him. As he watched her with tired

eyes, he could tell that it wasn't good news.

"Beverly..."

"Save your strength," she interrupted in a soft voice.

They'd both known this day was coming. Modern medicine had

finally found a drug to hold the dementia caused by

Irumodic Syndrome at bay, but the side effects led to

seizures, and eventually, death. Beverly had pleaded with

him not to take the drugs but Jean-Luc had been adamant.

He had said that anything was better than slipping slowly

into senility, spending the last of your days in an

institution not knowing anything or anyone around you.

Beverly knew it was selfish, but she wished they had just a

little more time together.

She slipped into her robe and sat by his side, rubbing his

hand and arm gently.

"You know I love you," he said.

"I know." Her hand stilled on top of his and she

squeezed. "The past three years have been wonderful, Jean-

Luc, and I wouldn't trade them for anything."

A fit of coughing wracked his body, and it was a while

before he spoke again. "I wish I could walk you home one

more time."

Her smiled wavered. "I'll be fine." Her words implied

more than just walking home.

His trembling hand reached up and gently cupped her cheek.

He would always remember her like this -- captured forever

in the dim light of rosy dawn, hair tumbling around her

shoulders, and starlight in her eyes. She was more

beautiful to him now than when he first saw her. "You'll

always be my angel. So delicate and ethereal in the

morning light. My angel of the morning."

He winced, his body drawing up tight. She watched,

helpless, as the light slowly faded from his eyes. His hand

dropped away as he took one last shuddering breath. Beverly

leaned down and kissed him tenderly on the forehead. "May

you finally find your peace," she whispered. The soft

light of a new day framed the tears that ran silently down

her cheeks.

THE END