I know I'm not as young as I once was...as young as when he first loved me. The mirror doesn't lie. He's careful when we make love, aware and considerate of my limitations. It drives me crazy. I'm sure he wants more from me than I can physically give, some nights.

It's not fair to him--he's so young, so beautiful, so strong. I love him so much. Should I let him go, free him to find another love while he's still young...so he won't have to watch my decay?

Or would it kill me?

He worries about his age, his body, his performance in bed, and thinks I accommodate him--out of some sense of loyalty or consideration. He's pushing me away by pulling back, hoping he might hurt less without me watching.

But it would kill me.

Doesn't he know I'll love him till death and beyond? Can't he see how little strength it takes to reduce me to quivering need--one look, one stroke of his thumb across my lips... There might be only one way to reassure him, to convince him my love is forever.

"Jonathan Archer, will you marry me?"

 

"Malcolm, I'd be honoured."