-Three Years Ago-
His shoulders sat hunched to the bitter cold shadows of his room. His eyes were cast down, buried into his jeans, his numb wrists draped over his tense knees. He took shallow, thoughtless breaths, forcing his head to feel light, forcing back the shameful tears of a disgraceful Captain.
In a far corner his beloved dog laid quietly down, eyes diverted to the floor in front of him, his tail wrapped tightly around his shivering torso. The Captain had never hit his dog before, and now the little beagle was terrified of him.
"Porthos?"
He tested his luck yet again, daring to bring his gaze down to the corner, trying desperately to coax the dog back to his side. He could not be moved.
Quickly his damp hazel gaze dropped to the floor between his feet again and he heaved himself back into a depression.
A smattering of blood still covered his knuckles and had strayed onto his heavy boots, spat on there from the very mouth he had punched. It had been over in no more than ten, perhaps fifteen minutes, and yet each time that he played it back in his mind, it stretched as long as half an hour, even forty five minutes.
He had watched himself punch the Commander three times now, and watched three times from the corner of his eyes the genuine naked horror on his First Officer's face. He was not sure what stung deeper, the hurt and realisation on the golden face of Trip's, or the shameless revealing of human emotion on hers.
He knew one thing for certain; he would be relieved for this. No more than he deserved, he chided himself until he began to feel a fresh wave of hot, sour tears sting the back of his downcast eyes.
Suddenly his comm. beeped from the door of his room. He looked up at it blankly and then ignored it. He remembered he had a lunch date with Lieutenant Reed, but he was hardly hungry anymore, nor in the mood to give an explanation as to why he had not turned up.
"Sir?"
He looked up again, not so blankly anymore as Sub Commander T'Pol's voice drifted in quietly through the comm. vent.
"Sir please, let me in."
Porthos lifted his own head and then sat up eagerly, desperate to run from the corner, but afraid of what reaction he might provoke from the man on the bed in doing so. The Captain tried to ignore him, but it pained him nonetheless.
He peeled himself off the bed slowly and leant heavily against the wall as he pushed into the comm.
"Not a good time right now T'Pol."
His voice was gruff and choked, a clear indication to her that he had been crying, as much as he had tried to force down the tears.
"Jonathan."
He felt himself startled slightly. Her tone was beyond anything he thought Vulcans were capable of. It was deep and sharp and clear in saying that she would break through the door if that was what it took to see him. To hear her rhyme off his actually name too, something she had been refusing to do for three years now, made him look twice at the comm.
"Commander Tucker is in sickbay having the side of his tongue melded back together. I would like to know why you caused him such damage."
He took his finger off the comm. having no intention of answering her, despite that tone.
"I would prefer it if I was not forced to send you to the brig and contact Admiral Forrest."
He pressed the comm. this time, feeling complied to answer this audacious comment.
"I'd like to see you try that one Sub Commander."
From the other side there was silence before she decided to post an idol threat.
"I hold twice the strength of any man on this ship. Unfortunately, taking you out would not be such a strenuous task."
"And the door?"
"I have tackled a door before."
With knowing what he had to say next, he knew now he was just deliberately aggravating an already taut situation.
"Weren't you in Pon farr then?"
She choked slightly on her next breath. She did not know he knew that.
"Sir, that is beyond the point. Open this door and talk to me."
Archer leant heavier on the wall.
"We're talking now aren't we? What's a door between a conversation, eh?"
He could almost see her face overwhelmed by his true idiocy at the moment. He could almost hear her teeth grinding and fists curling.
"Sir, what possessed you to take out one of your own senior crew in the mess hall?"
Now she was beginning to ask the difficult questions. He didn't choose to answer straight away.
"Without a plausible explanation I am going to have to report this. A volatile Captain is too much of a risk to keep aboard."
"And as a self-appointed First Officer you think you have the right to sabotage this mission and my career by reporting one mistake made on my behalf?"
As ever she persisted onward.
"Sir, right now this looks to be a case of mutiny, and I will have to report it as such unless I am given a reason not to."
A hot flush rose from his thundering heart, colouring his cheeks an angry red. He punched down hard on the lock on his door and opened it, coming within inches of T'Pol's cool face as he stepped out of his quarters.
"T'Pol, I don't give a damn what you do anymore. Whatever floats your boat in your free time, then do it. If reporting me for one mistake is what it takes, then do it; if rolling about in the bed sheets with Trip is what it takes, so be it. Just don't flog it to the rest of the crew so it ends up waved under my nose by a passing Ensign. You mean nothing to me, and I'm sure as hell glad I'm not Trip right now."
She tilted her head back slightly to bring her gaze up to his, and was utterly silent as he went on in a haphazard rant.
"Throw me in the brig and report me to Forrest if that's really an itch too deep not to scratch, but you should know that split tongues wont be near your worst of your problem when I get out and come looking for you. Do you understand?"
It was an idol threat of his own, but a ferocious, highly hateful one all the same. She nodded.
"Yes Sir."
He growled. "So get out of my sight before I do something I'll really regret."
The man before her was not the man she knew, he was not even a man she had met before. He was a far, awful cry from the Captain who was the reason why she had stayed aboard Enterprise to begin with. He was a vengeful, selfish man… and little she knew a man who felt he had just lost the biggest part of his honest, caring soul.
She nodded once again and turned in the direction towards sickbay.
He leant heavily on the doorframe and almost pleaded for her to stop, to rush an already overdue apology and hope things could be mended as quickly as they had been torn.
She disappeared into the turbo lift and kept her eyes down as the doors closed over. He punched the nearest wall, ignoring the petrified whine of his dog behind him.
Needless to say, Trip and T'Pol decided that what small relationship they had managed to build so far, was not worth the trouble it had already caused for them and their Captain. It was ended that night over one last dinner and some pale-lit candles.
. . . . . . .
"I'm sorry." He stopped suddenly in the halls of Starfleet and grabbed T'Pol's wrist lightly so as she'd do the same. She turned to him as he uttered the words in a regretful murmur and peered into his genuinely apologetic hazel gaze.
"For what?"
He held back a sigh in the back of his throat. "For stopping you and Trip from… continuing on whatever you had."
Realisation clouded her eyes and she suddenly found something else on the floor to focus uncomfortably on. This morning, she understood, must have brought back painful memories. Ironic, she identified.
"You were… not the entire reason why we… dissolved the… relationship, in the end."
Now he knew he was treading on private waters, and wanted to get out of them. But he felt like a hypocrite, for what he had done three years and then what he had done just this morning. He almost felt inclined to offer up his chin to Trip's clenched wrist, when next he saw the Commander.
"We were… finding it difficult, to relate fully with the other's persona. Commander Tucker still bared grudges with my people that sometimes he vented on me, and I found it difficult to understand or accept why he was impulsive on occasions. We eventually decided we would be better as companions for each other, rather than mates. We have not regretted or doubted the decision yet."
Before them Admiral Forrest with a few of his colleagues turned into a room where Jonathan knew his old senior crew were standing and waiting for him to arrive. They had a briefing of their next mission to attend, although Daniels had done for them enough briefing that they most likely knew more than the highest-ranking Admirals of Starfleet did.
Jonathan needed to clean the air though before he entered that room and locked eyes with Trip again.
"You have every right to think this is wrong and to want to drop it now, if that's what would we best."
She met his hazel gaze once more. "Why would I think that?"
Thus the conversation was ended and she went ahead, slipping her wrist from his light grasp and turning to the door where their crew waited eagerly.
"Are you coming?"
A few yards away he stood almost dumfounded by her graceful simplicity, and then allowed his face to break into a small, warm smile. He nodded and they opened the door together.
Silence greeted them, but only for a moment as the crowd within registered the two new faces. Then casual conversation broke out once again.
Archer took a careful look around, more than a little taken aback by what greeted him; his senior crew and then about half of Starfleet and a bus load of Vulcans, who had all accumulated around a table stretching the length of ballroom sized accommodations. Forrest stood at the door with him.
T'Pol focused on the sheer number of Vulcans who had joined them, some even communicating with the Starfleet personnel in what looked like engaged conversation. The atmosphere was electric in the most brilliant way imaginable. An eagerness pulsated through the room, shone in the eyes of the humans and even seemed present in the posture of the Vulcans. There was a sense of accepted unity, and when T'Pol spotted Commander Tucker locked in deep conversation with a young Vulcan female sitting to his right, she knew things had finally changed between their races. It almost made her smile…
"We're still waiting for the Congress of Vulcan Elders to join us, but once they arrive we'll be getting things started. I think you'll like what we have to propose though."
Jonathan gave Forrest a side smile. The Admiral had no idea how much restraint he was pressing on himself. T'Pol did.
"I'm assuming our places are along the top with the rest of the senior crew."
Forrest nodded to her. "Go right ahead and take a seat."
Taking his wrist and his sly smile T'Pol moved the Captain on before things could be said, and jaws dropped. As soon as she was certain he was moving on of his own accord he dropped his arm.
"Sir, I hope you were not going to say anything about last night."
He shook his head vigorously, smiling and nodding to people and Vulcans alike at the table as he passed them.
"No, that would just ruin the surprise for everyone else."
Quickly he slipped in beside Trip and T'Pol moved beside him in the only two seats left near the rest of the well-established senior crew. Across from them were Malcolm and Phlox, whose smiles were as bold and energetic as Jonathan's own.
"Sir." Malcolm nodded in his uniform way, with a hint of juvenile eagerness.
"Captain." Phlox beamed, his smile splitting to his cheekbones.
Jonathan's eyes did a quick take along the table.
"Where are Hoshi and Travis?"
The smiles quietened a little.
"Travis phoned home, was gonna get himself an' Hoshi put on the Horizon before they got the call askin' them if they'd come join the Enterprise crew again. Travis… is sortin' out his loyalties."
Jonathan frowned at what was news to him. T'Pol remained impassive.
"And Hoshi?"
"Hoshi's… doin' the same."
Jonathan caught something then in the Commander's eyes, a smirk, an all too well knowing look. As he finished explaining the missing Ensigns he couldn't help but tweak the corners of his lips into a nudging grin.
"What?"
Trip leant in, hovering at a hair's breath away from the Captain's ear.
"Only was a matter o' time before the Captain an' the Vulcan hit it off, eventually."
The whisper did not get by T'Pol's own sensitive lobes. Trip gave Jonathan an all too well knowing nudge with his elbow.
"Aw don't look too surprised; yer both practically glowin'; you're kinda scarin' me."
He gave T'Pol an almost impressed look.
"You'll be meetin' the in-laws next."
"Alright Trip, we get that you know."
Jonathan threw a glance across the table. Malcolm and Phlox were engaged in what looked like an argument for Malcolm and a curious conversation for Phlox. They were as deaf to this, he hoped and prayed and begged, as they looked.
T'Pol remained still impassive. As ever though, there was more behind that calm expression than she would ever let on. And as much as he prided himself that he knew his First Officer as well as Trip did Malcolm, he could not quite place a definite finger on what it was. He thought he sensed a feeling of… unease, but then he tried to convince himself that he was just looking for any answer now.
Jonathan tilted forward slightly. He took in the sight of Trip's new Vulcan companion. Bony, pale, blonde, a haunting blue gaze, barely tipped ears, decked in human attire and jewellery—
"Sir, meet T'Kai. Big fan o' yours. Bein' askin' non-stop about when you'd be arriving. T'Kai, meet Cap'in Archer. First human t' make friends with a Vulcan."
Although not the first to love one.
Hardly skipping a beat Jonathan leant over and extended his hand to the misfit Vulcan, who carefully extended one of her own and wrapped her cold, scarred fingers around his. She smiled shyly and shook.
"An honour Sir."
He bowed slightly and dismissed the Sir.
"Call me Jonathan for now."
She smiled again, still very slightly. "Yes Sir."
He immediately exchanged a small look with his First Officer. He forgot thought that nothing fazed her as she nodded in turn and introduced herself in one flawless gesture.
"An honour again."
There seemed a great inevitability that T'Kai would be serving with them, but neither could say anything about it before the doors to the hall opened again and allowed the last of the meeting's attendants in.
This time the hush that had also greeted the Captain and his First Officer remained, or at least amongst the Vulcans it did. At his side T'Pol went ridged as five elders, four males and a younger female, made their entrance quietly. They took their seats wordlessly with little fuss at the opposite end where two Starfleet Admirals joined them, and Forrest headed the table.
"And that would complete the guest list."
He smiled as he spoke and in an instant he held the attention of the room as the humans fell quiet with the Vulcans. None turned quite so ridged as T'Pol had however.
"Right, well I'm sure no one's quite interested in hearing any jokes and would appreciate it if I got down to the gist of the situation right away, so I will."
He cleared his throat and put on the face of a seasoned Admiral, holding the air of a proud and daring man who had prepared this speech to death, and who was now almost besides himself that he was actually going to say it. No one dared to make a sound.
"We have been exploring now for a worthy seven years. We've taken our hopes and dreams out into the universe on the reality that is Enterprise and her crew. We've made many first contacts for humanity, we've mapped out our own star charts, chartered new terrain and we've broken through new territories. We've engaged in wars, we're lost, we've suffered and we've come out triumphant every time. We've made ourselves a pillar of the universe, and we've made some heck of allies. But, we've also made some enemies. We've upset cultures, we've contaminated pre-Warp societies – we've made some regrettable slip-ups. And now we plan to amend them."
Jonathan weaved his fingers in and out of themselves restlessly. T'Pol tiled her head round slightly and threw him a look. He came to sit at peace.
"I know we've hardly touched on what's out there, and if we're to go any further then we need to learn the balance between exploring and invading. And we also need to form alliances, bonds with the people we have met and befriended, and try and ease the tensions between those we have fought against, as well as those who fight against each other. I propose an establishment that will allow for these things to come about, that will build a stable relationship with our new neighbours, and leave be what we must. We've set ground rules, and a treaty worthy enough of names such as the legendry Dr. Zefram Cochrane and Henry Archer."
For the briefest of moments all eyes were on Jonathan and he smiled modestly.
"My friends and colleagues and to our Vulcan counterparts, I give you the Federation: the Universe united."
It could no longer be contained, the hall broke out into a rash of murmurs, then excited chatter and then human hands were thrown together in an intrigued round of applause as Forrest beamed at his crowd. The Vulcans nodded between themselves, brought things into a conclusion with their own logical light, agreed mutually that this could work and then instantly fell silent as the female elder stood.
The heavy double doors opened. Not a pair of eyes didn't divert to the two slightly crouched figures that tried to creep past the spotlight of attention to no avail. Jonathan smiled widely as he watched Hoshi and Travis throw themselves down into the nearest couple of chairs available, apologising meekly as they settled. The female hardly missed a beat as she drew the attention back onto her and her alone.
Jonathan took her in with great consideration. She barely seemed an elder, really, and he was beginning to doubt if indeed she was, or just an attachment to the four season-faced males who she had followed on in behind with. Certainly she was older than T'Pol, she had a knowledge and maturity in her Vulcan-composure that only came with age and experience. But her gaze was fresh and her skin firm with a healthy glow. Her hair was restricted to a mild mannered bob, cut shorter than most females with a layer to it. It was a dull brown to match the tone of her attentive eyes and she stood neatly as she held her slightly tall figure well; straight but relaxed in a Vulcan sense of the relaxed way. There was something less regal and pompous but more commanding about her that instantly demanded a true earned respect off the captain.
She did not show emotion, naturally, but there was a movement in her lips and a twitch in her eyes that told them she was not like most other Vulcans; she was willing to be here in the company of humans and on the territory of humans. The Vulcans here may have been engaging in conversation with them and as charged as them, but the ease with which she looked upon each man and woman individual was, obviously so, a permanent fixture with the graceful figure which stood before them now. She was enthusiastic to be here, and always would be at any time under most any circumstances.
"Admiral Forrest has just proposed here a concept that cannot go ignored by us Vulcans. We too wish to see peace, of course, and not just between ourselves, but throughout the universe – peace extended to every culture known to us who are willing enough to co-operate. As Surak helped purge our people of our dark past, we hope, certainly I hope, working together for the Federation can help others compensate for a history written in bloodshed and war. May we bind the schism between other and ourselves and untie the universe. No more secrecy, no more mistrust; these times are over, now we are full allies."
Silence rang throughout as she bowed to her audience. She did not need an applaud, or a cheer, or excited chatter; she knew she had aimed well and struck true with her simple, decisive words. She knew her own people well, and she knew how to convince the masses. She was T'Chall, and to T'Pol she was the truest hero to have.
She sat and Forrest stood again. His grin was restrained for the sake of professionalism, but he was glowing nonetheless.
"Thank you T'Chall. I only hope now that you have convinced your people as much as I felt convinced."
They exchanged a nod and then the Admiral threw his gaze to the other end of the table, to where Enterprise's fine senior crew sat patient and ready.
"Of course, for this all to even begin happening, we need a voice, we need representation for our proposal to give to the willing side of the universe. We need a team to negotiate and make the handshakes. And I could think of no better a choice than Enterprise, her devoted Captain and her loyal crew."
Jonathan's pride hit the roof. He tried to conceal the blush but it was an impossibility as heat shot through his neck and struck across his nose. He felt every pair of eyes upon him but he hardly minded. No point in being captain of the first ever-successful human Warp Starship if you could not enjoy the fame that inevitably came with it. Forrest gave him a nod.
"The repairs have been made and she's been given a good spit and polish. In a week she will be out once again in space, and so I propose to you Captain Archer, and your crew, your first new mission."
Malcolm sat fully composed on his chair, face alert, ears twitching. At his side Phlox held his hands clasped on the table, a smile ever hovering over his jaw, sitting just short of a full Denobulan grin. Trip was on the edge of his seat, inches from Jonathan's ear as he leant dangerously far forward. Jonathan threw him a quick glance back before he willed Forrest to carry on. T'Pol sat back, knowing no matter what was said today, she was tied with this crew until death do her part. Be it to Andoria or to the Delta Quadrant, she was bound to them, to those who had adopted her as one of their own, and would never have choice over that again. Never in a lifetime of two hundred years would she give them up, not for family, not for her people and certainly never for the High Command.
"Right now above us, orbiting Earth hovers a fleet of self-proclaimed renegade Andorians, five ships with one leader who goes by the name of Yulae."
T'Pol felt Jonathan edge slightly closer to her.
"He and his people need assurance that we are not planning to harm them or endanger them and their race in any way unprovoked. They need to know that the Federation is a plan to bring peace between such races as the Andorians and ourselves, and not a weapon of mass destruction, as they have concluded through suspicion and hearsay. Voices from both sides here, humans and Vulcans, would be appreciated in the negotiations we have set up for him, of which were agreed upon… rather shakily, to be polite about it. So, Captain Archer, First Officer T'Pol – do you both accept the mission?"
Jonathan was up on his feet in a flicker of a second, T'Pol closely followed. They both nodded their commitment to the proposal, not allowing an inch of superior knowing to show.
"And after that, Captain, will you be able to lead your crew as you have successfully over the past seven years into the future to continue to spread and influence the concept of the Federation?"
There was no doubt for him in it. "Yes Sir."
Forrest smiled, then turned to the other side of the table.
"Captain Gardner, First Officer Speedle – with you crew and Columbia, do you accept to share responsibility by seeking out new civilisations and coming to peaceful terms with them?"
Two men stood, one matured in years as made known by his silver dashed, mousy blond hair, the other younger and more sincere looking by the shadow spilt over his intense olive gaze. Both nodded in full, unwavering compliance.
"Then all I can say now is good luck my men, and Godspeed to you all."
. . . . . . .
The hall was slow to empty after that. Forrest had become a popular man and questions were thrown at him from all angles, no breaks in between them. This was the crux of his career, the climax, his 'big moment' – he didn't mind much.
Jonathan sat back in his chair, eased a smile onto his face and relaxed, preparing to wait for as long as it took for things to calm down.
"That was inspirin'."
Trip was hovering at his ear again, smile plastered onto his golden face, his entire body painfully restless as it fidgeted back and forth on the chair.
Vulcans and humans walked by them, sharing conversations, handshakes and the traditional Vulcan hand greet. After what the veteran Captain had seen these past seven years, it was almost like witnessing prayers answered, a miracle in the making.
"Inspiring, yeah…"
Travis and Hoshi moved up the table together, settling themselves beside Phlox and Malcolm.
"Good to have you both still on board… I assume?"
Travis offered him a coy smile. "Thank you Sir."
The Vulcan elders had left the event as quickly and quietly as they had coming to it. Except one. Except T'Chall.
"Excuse me Sir," T'Pol said quietly, standing and leaving the tight group, focused on nothing more than she who stood at the head of the table, arms hidden and folded into her elaborate robes as she waited patiently.
Jonathan watched her go, instantly made to follow and then felt his wrist grabbed at by a bony hand.
"I would not advice it Sir, please."
He turned. T'Kai was hanging over Trip to reach him, haunting blue expression peering steadily up at him.
"She has to make peace with her family, and her mother is about the best chance she has at doing that now. Interference, no matter how well intended, could only serve to distract her I imagine, and thus lose T'Pol her last chance."
Frowning for a moment at the misfit Vulcan, Jonathan forced himself to reason with her simple, sage logic and so slowly eased himself back down on his chair.
T'Kai jumped from one topic and tone to another almost effortlessly. "I look forward to serving with you, Sir," she stated tentatively, but eagerly.
Jonathan frowned again, this time with a curious smile. "Oh? I need to get myself a new copy of the crew list I think. Welcome aboard T'Kai."
Trip draped an arm over her slim shoulders playfully; something Jonathan had a hard time picturing him doing with any other Vulcan, T'Pol just about included.
"She's ma new right-hand-woman, an absolute wiz with the engines ah hear. Got herself transferred a couple days ago. Guess Starfleet an' the High Command decided y' did so well with the last one, y' weren't likely to shove this one out an airlock either."
Jonathan looked over his shoulder. T'Pol and her mother were gone.
. . . . . . .
On the conference level of Starfleet it had become a mission almost impossible to find a quiet corner. Clusters of excited humans and intrigued Vulcans gathered in the corridors and stairs, filled in the corners and blocked most doorways. Unity was a fantastic and overcrowding thing, they were discovering.
So mother and daughter abandoned the conference floor and took flight in a turbo lift, heading as suggested by T'Pol, to Starfleet's magnificent gardens.
Petals or red, white and yellow scraped over their ankles as they walked down the rose paths. T'Pol was frank enough with the ultimate question after they were done with the usual pleasantries.
"Father sees me as a disgrace. He has all but disowned me as his daughter. If he cannot bring me back to Vulcan with him then I believe as far as he is concerned, I no longer exist. Do you feel the same?"
T'Chall was a Vulcan who far out-shadowed her daughter in ever sense, from grace to wisdom. T'Pol was no more than a novice in her presence, a fledgling who knew pitifully little about anything compared to the established mindset of this sturdy figure. And yet T'Chall looked upon her daughter with no less than utter respect and admiration.
"You choose to speak in English, and you have a slight accent, an American one I believe."
T'Pol threw her mother a side-glance and a raised brow. She continued.
"I have heard the stories, just as many have. You dine with them, fraternize with them over and above the call of duty, you understand their humour and even delved in a relationship with one, a time ago now. They consider you no less than an equal, a friend, family even in a metaphoric sense. And I can see it in your face T'Pol, that the feelings are utterly mutual. You are devoted to them as much as you once were the High Command. The only difference is with them you are looked upon beyond your capabilities with science and command and they have discovered the personality under the uniform and the race. For that, as well as other things, you feel you belong, and that is all I need to know."
They stopped at a small trickling fountain and T'Chall faced her daughter full on. She took her by the shoulder and nodded.
"Your father only ever wanted what you deserve. He knew you were at a disadvantage not only became you are female but because of your born nature; that you are stubborn, restless and eternally curious, thus making you an explorer before a scientist. He fought with your teachers and tutors throughout your studies, bargained and negotiated with his contacts just so as you would be considered by the High Command. He was so proud of you and your abilities, knew they could not ignore what was a prodigy in the making. So when he found out that you had decided to stay with the humans, he was understandably devastated. 'Such a waste' he would always say. 'They will never be able to appreciate her. They're humans, to them she is nothing more than a target for their frustrations and prejudice'. He never took a moment, however, to consider who your Captain is."
T'Chall paused and T'Pol searched her eyes. She was as proud as any mother could be.
"He loves you T'Pol, as do I, and your brothers. There is just a fine line you have to be able to see between understanding you and rejecting you. He may not understand you, but he will never reject you, and I don't think you realise that yet. You have your own life now, your own career, your own crew and perhaps even your own bond mate. We can no longer hold you back, and I am not ashamed of you because of it."
Her calm brown gaze focused beyond her daughter's shoulders and she dipped her head in a slight bow. T'Pol turned. At the end of the path Jonathan stood, shy and unmoving.
"He is a fine man, and he knows what he has. As long as you don't, he wont throw it away."
T'Chall stepped back and carefully lifted her hands off T'Pol's slight shoulder. She raised a palm in the Vulcan way.
"Live long and prosper, T'Pol. I know you will have a good life with them."
She turned on sweeping heels and with that disappeared almost instantly into the lush green of Starfleet's patch of Eden.
"That was your mother?"
T'Pol turned again and was faced by Jonathan in front of her, hands in pockets, eyes lingering on the spot where T'Chall, had disappeared into a forest of young oaks.
"Yes, T'Chall; former captain of her own ship, she is now a negotiator and advisor for the High Command. One of their best, no doubt why she was here today."
Jonathan pouted a lip in consideration. "She seems… nice."
T'Pol nodded. "She is a fair and reasonable Vulcan. She had given you her blessing."
Carefully Jonathan smiled. "I should probably thank her for that then."
"You should, when next you meet her."
He placed a hand on the small of her back and began to guide her back inside with him. This day was far from over.
"'When next'?"
She nodded. "When next."
. . . . . . .
-A Week Later-
There is a lot I will remember of this day, a lot that I will hold dear to memory until my very dying moments. There is a lot I cannot explain because on this day I was feeling things I had never felt before. But I knew I felt proud, and I felt to be a part of something that would be beyond the reach of most of my people. I felt passion, and faith and utter devotion to a real cause, all of which were feelings mutual to those placed around me.
The five of us stood in the turbo lift, silent and thoughtful. Beside me were Ensign Sato and Mayweather. They had no regrets over their decision to board Enterprise via sacrificing their places aboard the Horizon. They held hands and smiled at each other from time to time, devoted and on the cusp of shared love.
Just behind me was Lieutenant Reed, tall and straight in the back, fists clenched and white with anticipation. He had the stalwart expression of a Vulcan and the gleam in his eyes of a human, a gleam I had grown much accustomed to seeing in his loyal gaze.
Before me was our Captain, neither shy about his smile nor modest about his pride. He bounced constantly on the balls of his feet, rocking restlessly back and forth, looking around as if this were all knew to him, eyes ablaze with undying wonder and awe.
I knew that when the others around us focused on one of us, they focused on the two of us together, sighting us as a 'couple'. It had become official amongst the crew now, and Captain Archer, Jonathan, would grin and take my hand every time someone was brave enough to mention it, or look like they knew.
As the turbo lift door opened, I will remember for always the rush of adrenalin that hit every one of us. Blood turned warm, thundering through our veins, charging our bodies as we fanned out and took our familiar posts aboard the Enterprise bridge. I will remember the breath I held briefly as I sat down once more at my own station, running my fingertips over the familiar controls, turning at an angle in my chair to face what was behind me for a moment.
I would always remember the mental imagine I conducted of Commander Tucker, Trip, below us, giving T'Kai the grand tour of his beloved engines. And also Doctor Phlox, helping his energetic son Aldon, who was a near carbon copy of him in nature, and his animals to settle into their new domain, his own prized sickbay.
But I will remember best that moment when Jonathan hovered before his chair for a second before he turned back to me. How he made his grin into a smile so tender and soft it seemed to make his eyes water. And then how he walked the few strides up to my station where I slowly stood up before him and carefully nodded. And whilst the others settled down he gave me the briefest loving kiss atop my forehead and whispered "We made it," before he returned to his post, boyish grin back in place before he sat down.
I sat silently, remembering my mother and her words, and Jonathan's words when we were in sickbay and he thought I couldn't hear him. I reflected on his apology then and his apology a week ago, and then poured over the memories of our brief time in the future together. Thinking how it all summed up to a week ago, and how seven years on from this ship's starting mission, every decision I had made to stand by the humans had been worth it, and how I knew my future with them would be forever without regret.
Jonathan turned to Mr Mayweather and below us the floors hummed gently as we prepared ourselves to face space once again. His simple departing words would echo in my mind for the rest of my life and time to come.
"Well Travis, it's time to face the winds again. Take her out, straight and steady."
The End
A.NWell, that's it – the end, finished, over with, all done. It had to happen some time, for a piece that was only supposed to be a short T'Pol monologue to fill the time during a dull weekend. And man was it fun writing this, and then hearing the feedback. It was always good to know what I was doing right, wrong, what would make a good touch here and there, when to lay of the angst… lol.
Special thanks should probably go to RJAG who halted me when I was facing major screw ups in terms of rewriting Star Trek history when it wasn't really necessary through my own ignorance (i.e.: helping in the Federation talk, of which to hell if I knew anything about it really before I was filled in.)
Also, I believe some apologies are due in order. –clears throat–
I apologise first to Travis, for putting the cheeriest guy in the crew in an uber nasty bad mood. Then teasing him with the idea of going home, before ripping that away from him…
To Hoshi, who got a face full of bad-mood-Travis, and went deaf (of all things to happen to a linguist) looking for a dog hardly even mention in the end, who would probably die an angst death if I continued to write.
To Phlox, whose OC son was, I believe, in it more than he, and who had more lines of dialogue than him. (And for also giving you the shortest apology.)
Then my sorries to Porthos, who got gnawed on by the big, bad she-dog bully, and thus had to wear every dog's enemy, the cast which is bigger than the other three legs. And not even getting any cheese for it.
Apologies to Malcolm for running up his dental bill by giving him the quirky habit of grinding his teeth. That and for having to scoff down one of Trip's own made breakfasts, and then having to do the father-son real important talk thing… over the phone.
To Jonathan who most likely had a heart attack for every time T'Pol got hurt (I'm getting to that apology in a minute). Who had angst and worry for breakfast, lunch and dinner, and who basically couldn't catch a break in his time off. (Just be glad I never went ahead with the idea of killing off your dog just so T'Pol could go out and get you a puppy all for the sake of a cute, tender scene.)
Great swells of apologies to Trip for taking his girl away and giving her to Archer. For only giving you the next best thing in way of compensation who happens not even to exist in the official Star Trek realm of things (T'Kai, btw).
And lastly to T'Pol. For making you shack up with a human, for having a vengeful father (I'm sure he's actually very nice), for having the bully she-dog gnaw on your ankle, slicin' an' dicin' your ears away, making you eat chlorine (twice), throwing you onto the Phae, making up the Phae in the first place, killing you and then making you face Yulae… again (oh wait, I never did write that scene…)
Doubtful I'll be forgiven for most any of the above, but there's me said my peace anyway. So, only one thing left to say:
Goodnight and Goodbye
Telaka