Part 36 (1/2)

More tears fell from his eyes and he moved the picture so it wouldn't become wet.

He was still Klingon. Honor was as important to him as ever. That had never lessened in him... and yet...

... and yet...

... his first duty had been to her. To them. To his wife, to his beloved.

And he knew, beyond any question, perhaps with greater clarity than he had ever known before, that he would have done anything for her. That had been the plan, that they were to be together, forever and ever. Nothing could ever separate them. But she had gone away, and he had not expected it. And his first impulse had been to close off everything, to retreat once more, to look back on their life together and say it had made no difference. No difference ...

... but he was wrong.

It had made a difference. For he felt things now, depth of emotion, pa.s.sion, and the ability to covet a loving relations.h.i.+p beyond anything that he would once have thought possible. The death of their union did not end that. Those feelings, once tapped, could not be denied. He could try, of course. He could try and push it away...

... but that would be wrong. Wrong for the legacy that she had left him, wrong for the man that he had always wanted to be and-thanks to her-now was.

He held the picture tight to him and allowed the tears to cascade down his cheeks. He did not sob out loud; that would have been too much. Instead the tears flowed in eerie silence, but it didn't matter.

It hurt ... but he didn't mind. It was a good hurt, the kind that one can grow from and learn from if one chooses to.

If he loved again, it could never be as it was with her. Never.