Fix the Finale Fic

The Ring of Truth

By Evalyn A.

Rating: G

Disclaimer: All belongs to whoever inherited the franchise -- not mine, though they really really don't deserve it now .

A/N: Moving on from TATV – for those of you who insist it's canon … well, read on.

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Epilogue

Six months later …

Archer looked at the card in his hand, and then gazed with silent contemplation out the window of his office. The memory of that day six months ago, when he had been informed of his two best friends' deaths, came flooding back to him.

**********

He had been working through lunch, when his flustered aide-de-camp had entered. "Sir, the Minister's here to see you."

Archer's eyebrows raised – unannounced visits by politicians were highly unusual and rarely boded well. "Show her in, Lieutenant."

The Minister entered, and took his hand. "Admiral," she said, inclining her head, "I'm sorry to drop by without an appointment."

"Not a problem, ma'am," he replied, "Always happy to see you."

She walked over to the window. "You have a beautiful view of the bay," she commented. The morning fog had just been blown away by a brisk wind, leaving a clear, chilly day behind it, whitecaps forming on the bay.

"Thank you ma'am," Archer replied, and waited for the other shoe to drop.

"I suppose you know I'm not here to admire the view," she continued, turning around to face him. "I'll get to the point. Several days ago, one of our research teams located in the outer solar system was able to stop what was almost certainly a grave threat to Earth. As you might have guessed, this incident won't be for public consumption, and as a result, we won't be able to honour the heroes who made it possible. Unfortunately, in countering this threat, two of the team were killed." She paused to take a breath, and then looked at him sympathetically. "Chief Engineer Tucker and Commander T'Pol did not survive."

Archer's expression turned grim, as he turned away, lips tightened. After a lengthy pause, he asked, "What was T'Pol doing there?" in a steely voice.

The Minister frowned. "I know this must be difficult for you, Jon, but I was hoping you could tell me," she replied. "No one seems to know how she got there, or how she even knew where to go. She arrived just a few days before." There was an awkward pause, and then the Minister continued, her expression turning darker, "There was no doubt that her presence was instrumental in ensuring that the project did not fail. Perhaps if she had been included earlier …"

It was apparent to Archer that the Minister in charge of Interplanetary Affairs, who ultimately held under her purview all of Starfleet's operations, as well as those of Reed's shadowy friends, did not agree with the special operatives that had prevented T'Pol's involvement. The relationship between Starfleet and the Federation was an uneasy one, for Starfleet reported to Earth government rather than the Federation council, and conflicts in purpose still arose from time to time.

Archer was silent for a moment, and then answered her original line of questioning. "I don't know how she got there. But she was a determined and resourceful person. If she'd figured out something was going on, she wouldn't have stopped till she'd gotten to the bottom of it."

The Minister stared at his back, tense and unyielding. "Commander T'Pol had you listed as her executor," she stated, when no further information was forthcoming.

Archer turned back to face her, his face locked in a grim mask. "Yes, that's right. I'll take care of following up on her affairs, Minister, thank you."

She stood, uncertain for a moment as to whether there was more to be gained by continuing the conversation, and then inclined her head in acknowledgment of his implied dismissal. "My personal regrets for your loss, Admiral," she concluded, and departed his office.

Archer stared after her, a frown remaining on his face, and then with a small sigh, he relaxed and shook his head, his expression changing to one of rueful amusement. "I swear, you two are going to get me in more trouble dead than alive …"

Returning to his desk, he paged through to his aide requesting that he not be disturbed for half an hour, and then sat down to review again the communication he had received two days before.

Trip's face, somewhat grimy and bruised, appeared on the screen. "Jon, I hope you get this before Starfleet gets to you. I just wanted to let you know that T'Pol and I are all right," he paused, shifted and winced, "at least, more or less. The rumours of our deaths will have been greatly exaggerated. Just, for a while though, I'd appreciate if you wouldn't notify the brass?" He paused again, searching for words. "They'll tell you that our mission was a success, well, mostly anyway. No loss of life. It could have gone a lot worse."

He rubbed his face, which clearly look haggard from injury or lack of sleep. "The thing is, I'm tired, Jon. Tired of working non-stop to save Earth from yet another disaster. Seems as long as there's space out there, there'll be somebody trying to cause trouble. I need a break, time to do a few things. Work on some ideas I've got, and spend some quality time with T'Pol. She's agreed to take a bit of a break too." He smiled a small smile, and continued, "By the way, seems we've been married, in Vulcan law anyway, for about the last seven years. I know this is kind of a lousy way to break the news, but I'll tell you all about it sometime when we can do it properly, over a drink and a game."

Archer's jaw had dropped as he listened to the last few sentences; he wondered how exactly he had missed the true nature of what had been going on with his two dearest friends and closest co-workers. He'd noticed some ups and downs in their relationship, and suspected perhaps a brief romantic involvement, but he'd never suspected the depths to which it had apparently gone.

In the meantime, Trip's voice had continued on while he was dealing with the shock of this revelation. "Anyway, T'Pol and I have decided to go somewhere nice and quiet. One of Malcolm's friends has gotten me a nice new identity – oh, by the way, can you tell Malcolm thanks in spades for the fellow he arranged as T'Pol's transport? We'd both be goners now if he hadn't stuck around. I guess those former spooks just never get over being nosy – he plucked us out of space when our craft broke up, not sure how, we were both out of it. Apparently he's pretty good at staying under the sensors, because nobody detected him in all the excitement. He stayed quiet about it too; we weren't in too good a shape when he recovered us, and he had to wait for T'Pol to come around to ask her what to do. He didn't want to contact the authorities, not knowing how much trouble T'Pol might be in." He smiled, recalling. "So it was a kind of a blessing, everyone probably thinking we were dead. I know you'll have to tell the Starfleet brass eventually. Use your judgement on that one; just give us a bit of a break."

At that moment, he heard T'Pol's voice just offscreen. "Please give Jon my regards, and ask him to ensure that my affairs are properly looked after."

Trip smiled, and added, "By which she means, don't freeze her accounts. We'll be needing to live off her savings for a while. But I expect we can pick up a bit of work if we need it to make ends meet."

He smiled again at – his wife? Jon mused – offscreen, and continued, "Where was I? Oh, yeah, please be sure to tell everyone else that we're all right. My family, especially, and Malcolm, Hoshi, Travis, Soval – oh, and tell Dr. Phlox that we're counting on him to keep working on that fertilization procedure that his counterpart from the other Enterprise had perfected. We're planning on trying real hard to start a family when things have settled down a bit, whenever he figures he's ready." He frowned, and added, "But I doubt if we'll be settling on Earth any time soon. There's still too much leftover hysteria, and after what happened the last time …"

Clearly, he was recalling the incident years ago when Paxton's group had created them a child only to allow it to die, to prove that the human race was being destroyed by dilution with alien culture. Archer frowned himself, knowing too well that such hysteria was all too ready to surface again in a small minority of people, enough to cause plenty of trouble for his two star-crossed friends.

"So anyway, we'll be out of touch for a while, but don't forget us, okay? Just – don't try to find us for a while. Not unless it's important – and remember, it's somebody else's turn to save the planet." Trip grinned, and reached towards the panel. "Take care, Jon." And the recording ended.

**********

That had been six months ago, and Archer had heard nothing more from the two of them, nothing till now. He looked at the old-fashioned postcard in his hand that had printed off his private line while he had been gone overnight; his aide had placed it on his desk for him to find when he arrived.

The card showed a white sandy beach under an evening sky, a tropical bluish-green, lit by a distinctive set of moons whose features he was sure he recognized. On the beach, walking away, were two people dressed in summer clothes whose hands were just touching: a man wearing a garish Hawaiian print shirt, and a bronze-skinned woman, much shorter, whose upswept ears were barely visible if you looked closely.

On the back of the card, was the handwritten statement, "Having a wonderful time. Wish you were here."

Suddenly, Archer grinned, and punched his intercom.

"Lieutenant, I've decided to take a little vacation. See what you can do about booking me a trip to Risa …"

The End