Snowflakes

A Saavik/David vignette by Farfalla; rated G
blueberrysnail (at) yahoo.com
Beta-read by Saavant

It's only for a moment.

We're standing on the Genesis Planet, in the middle of sector two. Despite the so-called desert terrain and cacti, it's snowing so hard we're nearly up to our knees. Saavik is beside me, talking in Vulcan to the small Vulcan boy who, as hard as it is to believe, is probably some kind of resurrected version of Captain Spock from the Enterprise. She's covered in snow but she doesn't look uncomfortable. The snow's cold but compelling beauty seems to suit her, somehow.

Watching her with the boy, I suddenly feel the urge to pretend that this is our family, that she and I are man and wife, and that this is our son. He'd look like this, probably--pointed ears, and if it's really Spock then he's already half human. She looks the part of the devoted mother as she makes sure he's safe from the snow.

I imagine us in the yard on a winter's day between Christmas and New Year's, perhaps in my mother's backyard in Ohio. I make believe we've brought our son to visit Grandma for the holidays, and that now we're taking a family jaunt in the snow. I'm going to show them how to make a snowman like I used to do when I was a kid. It'll be even more fun to show Saavik, since she's probably never even heard of them.

Later, when our son has fallen asleep in the attic room where I used to keep my exercise equipment, Saavik and I will curl up in front of the fireplace together. We'll watch the snow through the bay window in the guest bedroom, and we won't talk much--just be together. No experiments, no deadlines. Just two beings.

The wind is cold here, colder than Ohio in my fantasy. I grew up with only my mother, so I guess the idea of having both parents around has always intrigued me. Plus, it's so hard to get to know a woman like Saavik. She's so into her job, and trying so hard to be a good Vulcan--I've heard she's gotten more so since Spock died.

But then, just for a moment, I look into her face and think I see my thoughts mirrored there. I wonder if the faraway look in her eyes is for the same vision of family I invented just now. It would almost be too impossible to hope, but it would be a step towards happiness.

Then again, maybe she isn't looking anywhere but into the snow on Genesis. Maybe my sight's just being affected by the snowflakes covering my eyelashes.

How quickly they melt.

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