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"It has been good to meet with you again, Jonathan Archer."

Shiránnor looked up at him with a smile, her gladness at his recovery open on her face. He was not cured – not completely; that needed time, and strength, of which he had an abundance – but the work was well begun. Now it was time for him to turn homewards again, and the shuttle was waiting outside. She had chosen, for her own reasons, to bid him goodbye alone and in private.

She had taken her farewells of the others. The parting had been painful and she had pleaded the pressure of her duties to keep it short; for this man it would be far worse if she did not take the measure she knew would be necessary for his sake. Already she could see the terrible foreshadowing of loss in his face, a loss that could, if not dealt with, cast a shadow over the remainder of his life. He must be made to forget his feelings for her, for his own sake. She had not told anybody this; what was between her and Jonathan was intensely personal to them both. The others could guess what they would if they chose.

So – for the last time.

She opened her mind and found him. The joy on his face was still heartbreaking. Through this, over the past weeks, she had loved and nurtured and restored him, but the gulf was still too wide and neither of them could step across it on this side of the Endless Ocean. Therefore….

Her hand brushed gently across his forehead. A final caress.

He straightened up imperceptibly. His expression became polite, almost formal. She did not betray by so much as the twitch of a whisker that the change twisted a knife inside her very soul.

"I'm really grateful for all the help you've given us," he said. "I hope we'll meet again someday."

"I have every confidence of it," she replied. Her voice was equally formal, equally polite. Healer to patient.

He knew she was referring to her belief in the afterlife. He still didn't believe in it, but was too courteous to say so.

"I hope we haven't caused too much trouble coming here."

She let herself smile briefly. "No trouble is too great for a welcome guest."

Outside the sound of the shuttle's engines starting up interrupted what might have become an awkward silence. Commander Shran had limited tolerance for prolonged farewells, although since his arrival that morning his mood had been surprisingly complaisant. Perhaps the holiday up on the ice-lands had been pleasant.

"You must go. Take my blessing with you." Her fingers rested for an instant above his heart. Let you be healed. It was the same wish she had made when she had parted from Hoshi, still grieving and heartsick for Malcolm, and about to embark on the rest of her life without him.

She would never know, at least not till they met again beyond the Endless Ocean, but she had hope.

The End.

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