Matters of the Heart
Summary: Years after the crew of Enterprise have been replaced, a young Xyrillian seeks out Captain Archer, hoping to learn more of her human father. Sequel to Devil and the Deep Blue Sea.
Disclaimer: I don't own Enterprise, though if I did it would never have ended.
Double disclaimer: I do not own Arh'leen or the conflict that set up this story in the first place. That honor belongs to Sita Z, and I thank her a thousand times for lettime me post this.
Author's Note: For those of you who are reading my umpteen million other fanfics, I apologize, but I'm putting another up. This is a sequel to Sita Z's wonderful fanfic The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea (concerning 'what if Trip had had to carry the fetus to full term?' in Unexpected) I'm a sucker for sweet family stories and fell in love with it so thoroughly that I couldn't even study. And though she has given me permission to post this, the original author has asked that I point out that she herself chooses not to recognize Trip's death at the end of the series. After all, it was just a plot device.
0o0o0
Jonathan Archer, the once-captain of the starship Enterpsise, stood in his San Francisco apartment, overlooking the city below. There was something almost surreal about the place now that he had been to so many other cities and planets. Compared to what he'd seen in the last decade, there was something decidedly menial about the way people went about their day-to-day routines. And yet, it was all the more precious for being able to hold onto that mundane feel after having come so close to being shattered.
As much as he sometimes craved the adventure, he wouldn't have traded this peace for anything the universe could offer.
He took a sip of coffee and ambled idly into the kitchen, tasting the bitter pungency of the drink on his mouth. Two years, now, and he still hadn't managed to get his coffee the way it had been on the Enterprise. Oh well. One of the worst things about days off was knowing that one could even worry about how good the coffee tasted.
On the other side of the kitchen unit, an aged Beagle raised its head expectantly. Archer chuckled.
"No, Porthos, no cheese," he said gently. "Remember, the vet said the last thing you need is to gain more weight."
Porthos snorted and lowered his head, used to the rebuff.
Archer grinned and made to take another sip of coffee when the door beeped suddenly. That was odd… who would be making a call on Sunday?
Setting down his mug, he fastened his loose civilian shirt and checked in the hallway mirror to insure that he had done an adequate job shaving this morning. The door beeped again.
"Yes, hello?" he called, pressing the side panel to open the door, expecting some form of superior officer to be standing there, informing him that his weekend was once again to be cut short.
What he hadn't expected was the trim young alien woman standing directly in front of him, nervously playing with her fingers. He noticed the scaly bronze material of her tunic and pants, and how vibrantly they clashed with her clearly human-bought strawberry pink sun hat. He knew he'd seen her race before… though it was rather difficult to place precisely where.
Slapping the UT he had had installed by his door, he ventured awkwardly to greet her.
"Ah, hello."
She glanced up anxiously, her golden eyes wide and nervous. Then it hit him like a plasma bolt. A Xyrillian! He hadn't had dealings with Xyrillians since…
"Captain Archer?" she said uncertainly.
"Former captain," he corrected her. "The Enterprise is now under Captain Jean-Luc Picard."
She nodded, averting her eyes awkwardly once again.
"And, Commander Charles Tucker?" she asked, her words sounding as though they had been rehearsed a thousand times. "Could you tell me where… where he is?"
Archer furrowed his brows, concerned.
"I'm sorry," he said, extending his hand. "But I never did catch your name."
The Xyrillian glanced down at his hand, unfamiliar with the human gesture. But before Archer could catch himself and attempt to greet her in the Xyrillian fashion, she caught his hand and shook it with more enthusiasm than was perhaps required. Immediately, an almost electrical static crackled at the contact, fading away as she drew back her hand, baffled at the gesture but clearly understanding enough to recognize it for what it had been.
"Arh'leen," she supplied, inclining her head. "Commander Tucker is my…" her words trailed off, suggesting that she was uncertain of the proper term. What could she call a man she had not known her entire young life? The man who had carried her and essentially given 'birth' to her, but to whom she shared no genetic relation.
Father?
An odd paralysis came over the ex-starship captain. For a moment, the pretty young Xyrillian woman was no more, and in her place lay a curious, wriggling infant covered in infinitesimal scales and bundles in a tight yellow body suit fashioned by Doctor Phlox. She had grown up so much in the past years. Tall and slender replaced what had once been short and chubby, and she possessed a certain air of timidness that, as a baby, she had not.
"Please," she said again, shocking him out of his reverie. "Could you tell me where I could find Commander Tucker?"
Jon sighed, glancing away and running one hand through his short hair. There was no easy way around this.
"Arh'leen," he said at a length, choosing his words carefully. "Commander Tucker died years ago defending the Enterprise."
A heavy silence descended upon the apartment, enveloping them in a thick, suffocating fog. Solemnly, Arh'leen bowed her head in resignation, closing her eyes and sighing softly. It was probably the worst news he could have given her. Archer allowed a few terse moments to pass, hardly able to bear the girl's well-kept grief, before seeking to relieve some of the tension.
"Why don't we sit down," he offered, walking past her and to the kitchen table, where he pulled out a chair.
Arh'leen glanced curiously at him, then at the door, wondering whether or not it would be better to simply leave. Thinking better of it, however, the Xyrillian turned and accepted the chair, sitting up stiffly. Archer was impressed; she had certainly done a good job of research if this was her first time on Earth. Her manners were flawless. He went to the coffee pot, pouring a second mug for her.
"Coffee?" he offered. Arh'leen looked puzzled, and it suddenly occurred to him that she might not know precisely what coffee was. He gestured with the mug to classify the substance, setting it down on the table before her. Taking his own seat opposite her, he sipped from his mug and set it aside. Arh'leen lifted her own mug and stared down at the deep liquid within. There was a change in her physical features that fell just short of expression as her dermal plates shifted.
Steeling her face into an uncomfortable mask, she set the mug back down in an almost comical gesture. Archer smiled, unable to hide his amusement. Arh'leen glanced up and cocked her head in confusion.
"Coffee is something of an acquired taste," he explained with a shrug. "There are a lot of humans who don't really take to it either."
Arh'leen nodded and stared down at the table. Almost without realizing it, Archer found himself searching her for some sign of his friend, despite the fact that she shared none of Trip's dna. What was she like at home, with her family? Was she always so quiet, or was this shyness she showed merely an effect of bad news? Somehow, he couldn't imagine that lively baby ever growing to be so bashful.
Arh'leen took the coffee mug in her hand once more to the need to touch something. At least that was familiar. As an infant, she had always needed to touch or feel something to be comfortable.
"What did he die of?" she asked softly. Archer sighed, leaning his head in his hands and pinching his nose. Of course, she would want to know everything now that she was here. He hadn't allowed himself to consider Trip's death in years, and now that he was faced with it, it proved to be a raw subject. Arh'leen seemed to notice his reserve and shifted uncomfortably.
"You-you really don't have to tell me," she insisted, but Archer sat up and waved his hand to silence her nervous words.
"No, you have the right to know," he replied gently, leaning forward, resting his forearms on the table and clasping his hands. A thousand different medical terms filled his head; different physical symptoms his friend suffered, but there was no was of knowing which one had actually killed him. "Electrical shock, cardiac arrest, severe burns, brain failure, punctured lungs," he stopped and sighed, closing his eyes. When he opened them again, his vision was blurred and unfocused, but not from tears. "Enterprise was being invaded, and for the safety of the crew, he sacrificed his life."
Arh'leen nodded again, taking the news calmly. He watched as her fingers traced nervous patterns over the surface of the mug, almost trembling.
"He loved you very much," Archer said softly. Arh'leen glanced up, her eyes wide. A thin layer of unshed tears coated her red-rimmed golden orbs, but she didn't bother to hide or wipe them away. She nodded once more, and again returned her gaze back to her coffee. She seemed to take comfort in monotony, Archer noted.
"I sort of remember him," she murmured. "I mean, I don't actually remember exactly with any clarity, but… it's just feelings and thoughts I've been able to associate with him every time I look at the picture he sent me." She paused musingly, as though recalling some pleasant memory she had always associated with her birth father. "Like when I'm eating. I've always associated him with cold food, though if it means anything, he never struck me as a cold person from his transmissions."
Archer chuckled, though his cheer was somewhat more diminished than usual.
"Ice cream," he explained. "We call it ice cream. Trip ate a lot of it while he was pregnant with you. There's a sort of myth that children are born with a taste for whatever food the mother ate a lot of during the pregnancy."
Arh'leen's scales shifted in confusion.
"What is… ice cream exactly?"
"It's a sort of sweet we have here on earth. I don't really know how to describe it. It's soft and cold and sweet and it melts pretty quickly. It's kind of amusing that you might have developed a taste for it."
Arh'leen seemed to take heart at this, for her hands no longer trembled.
"I suppose it makes sense," she mused. "I mean, a pregnancy is the same no matter what gender. It should have the same effects either way. I understand that human males usually do not carry the children, though."
"That's right," he confirmed. "Trip's was actually the only recorded male pregnancy in human history. I remember when he first found out." Archer paused, suppressing a chuckle at the memory of his friend's face when Phlox had shown him the growing fetus. "He might as well have heard that he was a Klingon who had been shaved down and raised on Earth. We were still in our first year of exploration, so stuff like that was a little new."
Arh'leen smiled-the first time she had allowed herself to do so-and glanced at the window behind him.
"It couldn't have been easy," she noted. John shook his head.
"It wasn't," he replied.
Arh'leen glanced at him, an eager look filling her pretty golden eyes.
She needs this. He realized. She needs to know everything she can about Trip. Before the Xyrillian could ask for more information about her birth father, he began describing the whole story in what detail he could recall which, despite the years, was very specific. It was hard to forget a friend and officer's pregnancy-especially when it was Trip.
"I assume you know the accidental circumstances under which you were conceived," he ventured, and she nodded. "Well, the first few weeks he tried to keep it a secret. But between having to run off at random intervals to be sick, nearly doubling his food intake, and having to wear civilian clothing, I'm fairly certain the crew got pretty suspicious.
"After an… unfortunate meeting on the Xyrillian vessel, the ship's officers were alerted. The shame alone might have killed him."
"I'm surprised he didn't have me aborted," Arh'leen remarked incredulously. "Especially under those circumstances."
"Don't get me wrong," Archer insisted, shifting in his seat. "He almost did. But in the end, he couldn't do it then for the same reasons he couldn't do it when he first found out."
"Those being?" The Xyrillian pressed. Archer shrugged.
"It wasn't your fault that Trip got pregnant, and he didn't want you to suffer for it. Of course, once the entire crew found out, he met a lot more attention than he'd ever bargained for."
Arh'leen glanced shamefully down into her lap. "He was probably mocked a great deal," she said miserably, guilt seeping into her features. Jonathan hurried to ease her comfort.
"I'm not going to say that he wasn't," he admit, "But that was only one or two individual cases. The rest of the crew seemed genuinely concerned for his health. A little too much for comfort, actually."
"How so?" Arh'leen asked, leaning forward.
"Well, I suppose it's necessary to remind you again that he was a man," Archer explained. "Most Earth nations developed systems in which men took care of the women. The practices wore out somewhat as we entered more modern times, but it was still there. The fact that everyone on the ship suddenly wanted to take care of him kind of spooked him. Pulling out his chair for him in the mess hall, checking up on him to make sure he wasn't doing anything dangerous in engineering, giving him 'special attention' you might say. It just about drove him mad."
"I can imagine," she said with a slight empathetic wince. Archer smiled. On an immeasurable level, he was beginning to see glimpses of his friend in her.
"When I sent the report into Starfleet, I came very close to receiving a reprimand for sending in practical jokes through transmissions. It was only when Trip actually had to show them his bump that they believed me."
Arh'leen's mouth opened slightly, and the dusky auburn coloring of her scales flushed deeply.
"How embarrassing," she murmured. Jon continued, enjoying the memories.
"Actually, he took it all very well. Went in to see Doctor Phlox on schedule, followed dietary guidelines, everything. But that didn't stop him and Phlox from butting heads. If it wasn't his duty to protect him, I'm fairly certain our doctor would have killed Trip. We only had two truly troublesome regulars to Sickbay on Enterprise, and Trip was one of them."
"The worst, I assume," Arh'leen chuckled. Archer shook his head.
"Believe it or not, that title went to our head of security, Malcolm Reed."
The Xyrillian's facial features shifted in an expression akin to one human lifting her eyebrows. Apparently she had assumed her father to be the worst patient on Enterprise. She nodded and smiled again, staring down at her coffee, which had cooled. Tentatively, she lifted the mug to her lips and sipped, struggling to swallow as she hurriedly set it back down again, coughing into the back of her hand. Jon couldn't help the snorting laugh that had escaped despite his best efforts to hide it.
"That bad, huh?" he asked. Arh'leen grimaced and nodded, wiping her mouth with one hadn't as he leaned forward and took the cup. The look she gave him as he stood to pour it out in the sink was one of pure thanks.
"My family always assumed I could consume human food, given that I was initially grown by it," she explained. Archer set the mug in the sink and grabbed a glass from the cupboard, filling it with water.
"Well, I've seen worse reactions," he noted, returning to the table and setting the water before her, then taking his own seat. "It tends to smell better than it tastes. Here, drink that. It should be easier on your senses."
Arh'leen took the water hesitantly, fearing the same bitter taste as the coffee, ans sipped. The one sip turned to two, and soon half the glass was empty. Archer grinned.
"Better?" he asked. Arh'leen cleared her throat and nodded.
"Yes, thank you," she said, setting the glass down. Instantly, her face took on its older, more serious slate. "I believe my father, Trip, that is, had some very severe complications during his pregnancy with me?"
Archer felt his cheer drain somewhat. This was the part during which the events had turned from comical to dark. Taking a deep swallow of coffee, he sighed.
"Yes," he said at a length. "I assume you know that his body was not physically prepared for pregnancy. As such, he couldn't produce the necessary hormones to allow for nourishment for both of you. So, in the end, most of it went to you. Trip was essentially starving to death."
Arh'leen's eyes widened, and Archer could see her visibly bite the inside of her lip. Clearly, this had never been described to her in such detail. Archer thought back on his almost unconscious decision to tell her the story, and began to wonder whether or not it had been the best idea. Arh'leen shut her eyes for a moment or so, then opened them again, staring intently, silently willing him to continue. Jonathan sighed.
"We… first found out when he collapsed in the hall," Archer told her gingerly. "He was rushed to sickbay where Doctor Phlox was able to diagnose him. Now don't feel guilty," he said hurriedly, noting the way her expression changed. "It was his decision. Even when the doc said that keeping you might kill him, he couldn't stand the idea of parting with you then."
Arh'leen nodded, taking studious mental note.
"Xyrillians have a stronger psychic bond than humans do," she said softly. "All humans are telepathically connected in a way similar to how all Xyrillians are connected. His mental link must have latched onto mine during the pregnancy."
She certainly had done her research. Jon had to stop himself from saying that Trip's choice probably had note to do with paternal compassion than psychic links, however science chose to support it. She probably already knew.
"After his diagnosis, Trip was confined to his quarters until such time as your delivery date," Archer went on, catching himself playing with his coffee mug absently. "It wasn't easy on anyone. At first, all his friends in the crew were so eager to visit him that a schedule was drawn up."
"Yourself included?" she asked curiously. Archer smiled despite himself.
"One of the best things about being honorary Captain and best friend is the remarkable ability to get at the front of the lines," he informed her, leaning heavily on the table. "But there wasn't much to do. During that time, all he really did was eat, sleep, throw up, and occasionally talk to us. I never told him, but half the time he was conscious, he wasn't even coherent. Probably thought he was still asleep. And for a while, it actually looked like things would turn out okay."
Arh'leen regarded him with serious golden eyes, suddenly piercing as a cat's or an eagle's. And yet, they possessed an innocence and desperation that made her seem like nothing more than a child who simply wanted to know her parent.
"But things got worse," she supplied. Archer sighed, guilt welling up in his chest. He somehow felt bad about being the one to tell her this, especially considering that he had been one of the strongest supporters of an abortion at that point in time. But now that he had begun, he couldn't just stop.
To that day, he could remember the first major complication since Trip's confinement in excruciating detail. Down to the last second.
"It was my turn to visit him," he reported, measuring each word on his tongue. "The doctor had told me Trip was having a hard day, so I brought by some soft foods for him. Potatoes and ice cream." He paused, grinding his back teeth together before going on. "I'd been in there a while, and when he finally woke up, I only noticed because Porthos had jumped on him." He pointed at the dog in the corner, seeing the question in her eyes. Porthos lifted his head and, as though determining the conversation to be far too serious to concern him, settled back down.
"He seemed detached," Archer said. Before him he could no longer see the comfortable setting of his kitchen. He was back in Trip's quarters, watching his friend in concern, his eyes flicking from Trip's pale face to his unusually thin arms, and last to the unnatural swell of his belly. "He wasn't eating well for probably the first time since you were conceived. We didn't really talk much; he was pretty obviously tired."
He paused and swallowed with some difficulty.
"Then, out of nowhere, Trip cried out and doubled over, holding his head. He was unconscious by the time I called Sickbay."
Arh'leen had gone rigid again, her face paling to the ashy color of antique rose. She took a deep, uneasy breath.
"Metabolic shock," she murmured. Archer nodded wordlessly.
"I suppose you got the report yourself," he said. Arh'leen stared intently down at the table surface.
"Yes… but it's different hearing it from someone who was actually there," she replied. After a moment, she glanced up, eyed wide. "Please, go on."
Jon sighed, deciding to skip over as many of the unpleasant details as he could. This was becoming a hard story to tell.
"He was moved to Sickbay and, over the next eleven days, he survived in a comatose state. Phlox experimented with several artificial hormones to try and save the situation. Friends came in ant talked to him; Doctor said it would help. After a second metabolic shock, he was given a hormone that seemed to work."
"Seemed to?" Arh'leen repeated, evident worry in her voice. Archer smiled as genuinely as he could in the face of disturbing memories.
"Well, he didn't die," he assured her. "You know that much. The hormone worked, just a little too well. Trip woke up prematurely and had to be rushed into surgery. All in all, it was a fairly successful surgery which I wish to this day I hadn't felt the need to stand in on."
Arh'leen relaxed somewhat and leaned one elbow on the table, a hint of a smile on her face.
"Were you squeamish?" she asked lightly. Archer let out a bark between a laugh and a cough.
"I wouldn't say squeamish so much as disturbed at seeing my male friend in surgery to have his Xyrillian daughter removed from his body." He cringed slightly. "To make it simple, there was a lot of blood."
"But it turned out all right," she insisted. "I mean, we were both okay."
"Both fine and perhaps the most popular living beings on Enterprise," Jon said, remembering the post-delivery period fondly. "I swear I would have had to face down a mutiny if each and every female member of the crew didn't get to see you."
"Female?" she said, but sudden understanding dawned on her face. "Oh, the female maternal instincts must be dominant."
"That's not to say that I've never met a woman who didn't like kids," Archer said. "But your presence seemed to bring out those instincts in anyone, regardless of gender or species. I remember two of Trip's people from Engineering asked me to get Trip away from you as soon as it was possible so they could have a chance to babysit. But I would have had a hard time separating the two of you for long."
He leaned back in his chair, staring up at the whitewashed ceiling. Things certainly hadn't been easy, but a person only had to see the way Trip looked at his daughter to know that he was going to make it work out somehow. Arh'leen had as good as become a part of the crew; in fact, she legally had been. When he glanced down again, the Xyrillian wore a melancholy, almost sad expression. Archer sat up, about to say something, but she spoke suddenly.
"Why was it so easy for him to let me go?" she wondered aloud, her hands in her lap, playing with the brim of her hat. Jon sighed, bowing his head. It was such a typical question for children who had been adopted, or in her case, traded off.
"Arh'leen," he said gently. "It was never easy for Trip to let you go. He did what he knew was best for you. A starship was no place to raise a child. And I can only guess how awkward it would have been for you to come to Earth."
She nodded absently, her eyes staring blankly out the window.
"Ah'len and S'Raan were, as your Xyrillian parents, the better choice," he encouraged. "He only had your best interest at heart."
"I know," she sighed. "But growing up, I always wondered…"
"Trip almost didn't give you away," Archer went on. Arh'leen's expression didn't change, but he could tell she was listening. "In fact, if S'Raan hadn't spoken privately with him, he might not have even considered it. Can you imagine what it would have been like, though, growing up on a ship full of an alien race as the only child? He didn't have the heart to put you through it."
Arh'leen closed her eyes and shook her head, setting her jaw firmly.
"And what happened after I left? Was it just business as usual?"
"Not exactly," he said. Arh'leen opened her eyes, monitoring him severely as he went on. "He had a rough time. Doc said part of it might have been delayed post-partum depression. He stopped eating, he completely threw himself into his work. It took a couple of weeks for everyone to really get him back to his old self again."
Arh'leen sat blankly for a few seconds and then, in one graceful movement, rose from her chair and strode over to the window, trembling visibly. Archer watched her as solemnly as he could, noticing the straight way she stood, the air of elegance she possessed. A strong opposition to the American slouch of most youth in this country. Despite her evident grief, she was still clearly a beautiful young woman.
But he could only admire it as a distant uncle or godfather; never a parent. It was wrong that he was the one privileged to see Arh'leen grown up after all these years, when that honor should have gone to her father. Trip would have been so proud.
Afer a moment, Arh'leen crossed her arms and spoke, her eyes never leaving the window.
"When I was still a child, I was so proud to have a human father." She paused, swallowing painfully. "During classes when I was young, we were instructed to say something about ourselves that nobody knew. Imagine their shock when I told them that I had three parents, and one of them was a human. Nobody knew what a human was, and I got in trouble for lying. Then, when they found out I was telling the truth, some of the children exiled me. They thought I was strange, and I didn't care. In the end, it helped me to find my true friends. I didn't even care that they made fun of my mother and Trip, because I was so convinced that it didn't matter."
Archer stared sadly at her. In the end, she had suffered the very hardships Trip had sought to protect her from.
"It couldn't have been easy," he offered in way of condolences. She glanced back at him, smiling softly.
"It wasn't bad," she admit. "I always had something interesting to tell if someone asked, and I was definitely more open to foreign cultures than most other Xyrillians." She chuckled. "At least now I can tell my friends why I like cold food so much."
"Trip said you still favored your teddy bear after he gave you up," Archer ventured, knitting his fingers together. Arh'leen nodded and turned her gaze back to the window.
"To this day," she said. "Though I'm surprised he ever talked about me."
"He usually didn't," Archer admit. "It was a touchy subject. But sometimes he couldn't help himself. Just as long as he didn't talk down in Engineering. Gossip down there traveled faster than warp speed."
Arh'leen raised her chin, amused at the news. This seemed to be doing her some good. Her determination, mixed optimism, quick thinking… it reminded him so much of Trip. She might have been even more similar had Trip made the decision to raise her himself on Enterprise.
"I've been thinking about becoming a ship's engineer," she said offhandedly, cocking her head as a car zoomed past the window. "I like studying how things work and fixing them. I don't think I could be a doctor like my father. My mother doesn't want it, but I think she'll back down eventually and let me do it."
"Is she afraid of something similar to what happened between her might happen to you?" Archer asked, amused. Arh'leen glanced around at him, grinning impishly in a reflection of her previously childlike spirit.
"Something like that," she replied, tapping her scaled fingers on her arm. "Though I can't say that they don't both think I'm going to bind myself to a human someday. I believe most of her trepidation's lie in her reluctance to see me off to space for so long.
Arhcer watched her fondly. "You really are Trip's daughter. He didn't feel at home unless he was working on something. If it isn't too much to ask, how did you get to Earth? I'm sure one of your parents came."
"They're both here," Arh'leen explained. "But I felt like I needed to find him by myself." She faltered, her pleasant smile slipping away as she tuned her head farther away, impossible to read. Archer stood, but made no motion to touch or draw near without some invitation. After a time, she spoke again.
"I think I could tell when he stopped sending transmissions," she murmured. "When I was just old enough to read and write my own messages, I was always excited to receive them. The early ones were sort of sad; like e was disappointed that we had to write to one another to communicate. But they got happier, and I've saved every one.
"Around the time you said he died, they started sounding distant again. I think part of me knew that he wasn't the one sending them anymore."
"I'm sorry Arh'leen," he apologized solemnly. "I know this is a lot to take in at once." He reached out hesitantly and gripped her shoulder, aware of the electric static that crackled around his fingers. Rather than pulling away as he had expected her to, the young Xyrillian leaned into his hand.
"Who was sending the transmissions after he died?" she asked thickly. Archer squeezed her shoulder in what he hoped could be considered a comforting gesture to her.
"Ensign Hoshi Sato," he answered. "Our communications officer. We thought it would be best for you to find out when you were older."
Hoshi had been uneasy about the idea of deceiving a child, especially during such a time when Trip's death had still been a fresh wound on their hearts, but she was the only person who was capable of writing a letter that could pass as Trip's. At least, until Arh'leen's parents planned to break the news gently when she was older. S'Raan and Ah'len must have seen this as the best way for her to find out.
Several moments passed before Arh'leen pulled her shoulder away, straightening and nodding slightly. Jon felt suddenly awkward, as though his usefulness had just been utterly spent. Arh'leen knew the truth now. He didn't feel like the proper person to offer any further comfort, but he couldn't just see her go so empty as she was.
"You know," he said hopefully. "Trip had a few funnier incidents to his name than he might have told you about."
Arh;leen glanced back at him, question in her eyes.
"Like what?"
"Well," Archer said with a grin. "There was the time he and my security head were mugged on shore leave while scouting alien women."
Trip would have killed Archer, friend or not, had he known that that story was being told to anyone, especially Arh'leen. But the way her grief stricken face seemed to lighten was more than worth it. This was how he had dealt with the death; by remembering all the good times they had known, together or not.
"Here," he offered, gesturing back toward the table. "Why don't you stay a while. I'll tell you more about him, let you meet Porthos. I think I have some ice cream in my freezer. That is, if you like Rocky road."
Arh'leen looked for a moment as though she wanted to leave, but stopped herself. With a smile and a nod, she took her previous seat at the table.
0o0o0
Arh'leen stayed on until well past noon, doing little more than talking about the alien man she had always considered the first of two fathers. Some of the memories Archer shared with her were happy, others more worrisome. She had never realized how many times she had almost lost him.
Their conversation would pause just long enough for her to take a bite of ice cream (which Arh'leen found to be just short of remarkable) or a sip of coffee. Twice, the phone beeped loudly as some member of Starfleet tried to contact Archer, but he never considered either caller to be important to halt his conversation, despite the Xyrillian's insistences that he should take his calls. His only rebuttle was that it was Sunday, and it was not his duty to answer the phone on Sundays.
Only an hour or so into their conversation, Porthos padded cautiously over and sniffed at her dark-scaled hand. It was instantly obvious that he had found a friend in her. Arh'leen finally began to relax, petting the beagle fondly and listening to stories of her father's adventures.
When at last the time came for her to leave, Archer had promised to send her copies of all their mission reports-or what he was permitted to send-as well as some of the personal possessions that had been specifically set aside for her inheritance.
Arh'leen left under the unspoken pretense that they would not meet again in the near future.
0o0o0
The wind, warm and tick with moisture, blew through the grass, upsetting her skin. Arh'leen's home on Thera had been dry and sandy, and despite her preparations, she was utterly out of place in the mild climate on Earth. The graveyard was entirely devoid of human life, and for that she was grateful. During her time on the planet, she had endured enough stares and whispers to last a lifetime. Here, of all places, she wanted to be left alone.
The gravestone was large and square, like so many others that seemed to sprout perfectly out of the ground. Engraved in the twisting gray and white of the marble were words similar to every other block in the cemetery.
Commander Charles 'Trip' TuckerBeloved Crewman aboard the Starship Enterprise
Gone but not Forgotten
She wondered vaguely if he ever would be forgotten. How many children would stand up in school and find themselves unable to remember Earth's first starship, or her chief engineer? Would they call him Trip, or would History immortalize him as Commander Tucker? A fact instead of a person.
Arh'leen wondered how she would play into the whole story. An alien child born of a human; the first child, in fact, to be born of a human male. Were Earth scientists still scrambling for information concerning the pregnancy?
"We're scientific miracles, you and I," she murmured softly. "Is that how we'll be remembered?"
The tomb sat still, making no sound, giving no indication as to what the man it honored might have said. Nevertheless, she smiled, pulling several sheets of paper from a purse she now sported. Like the hat -which she discarded when not in the presence of humans – it was Earth-bought and clashed miserably with her shimmering Xyrillian garb. After glancing at the papers for several moments, she sighed.
"I came to Earth hoping to meet you again," she said softly. "I've just left school, and a celebration is naturally in order. I was sort of wishing you could come and maybe help me decide what to do with my life, now. You hadn't sent a transmission for some time. I'd thought maybe you forgot about me. But you never did forget, did you?"
The wind blew again, bringing with it the sweet scents of a southern morning. Arh'leen breathed in heavily, savoring something she considered to be a part of her as much as any human.
"I remember the first transmission I received from you. I was young and excitable. I don't think I really understood it back them, but I do know."
She paused, taking a deep breath as her conflicting emotions threatened to overwhelm her. She couldn't cry. Not here, now, or ever. Most Xyrillians only gave in under the most extreme times of shock; perhaps she was more human than even she had given herself credit for.
"I was always proud," she said thickly. "To call you my father. And I'm not going to stop just because the circumstances appear to have changed. You're still my father, just like I'm still your daughter. I miss you, but that doesn't mean you've gone anywhere."
She glanced back at the Xyrillian couple that waited on the path for her, watching silently as she said her goodbye. Her parents had always raised her to be thankful for her unusual parentage; even S'Raan, who had always considered himself to be her father. And he was. He and Trip were both her fathers.
Arh'leen smiled sadly and knelt down before the grave, setting the papers down on the grass, weighing them down with a rock. She lingered a few moments, taking in the last sight of her father, before turning and rejoining her parents. She had to return to Thera, go through the various mission reports and belongings Archer had sent with her. Apparently, humans treasured clothing as personal belongings; it amused her to think that she might be taking home some of Trip's maternity clothes.
On the grass before the grave, the breeze rustled the papers, but could not blow them away.
Dear Arh'leen,
I can't believe you're already writing me letters all by yourself. When I sat down to check my messages, I nearly jumped out of my shoes when I read that you had sent me something. I can hardly describe how proud I am of you right now. It's hard to imagine how fast Xyrillians grow, though I should probably know by now. Just don't grow up too fast.
You told me you lost your teddy bear again. You ought to keep a closer eye on it; the crewman who gave it to you would be pretty concerned if I told her you kept losing it. But I'm sure it will turn up soon. Your Xyrillian dad (that's the word we use for father a lot back on earth) tells me you're always losing track of it. When I was your age (well, probably older since humans don't age as fast as Xyrillians) I had a toy I lost all the time too. It was a model spaceship, with engines and everything. It would always turn up under my sister Lizzie's bed of all places.
I wish you could have met Lizzie. She was pretty annoying, but she was a great sister. I think you two would have like one another.
I'm sorry about what happened at your school. I suppose most Xyrillians outside your mother's crew don't really know what a human is. But don't let them get to you, Arh'leen. Sometimes, kids just like to poke fun at each other. If they're not going to understand you, you shouldn't have to explain yourself to them. I'm not telling you to hide your relation to me if you want to tell your friends. But I'd rather you not tell them about me if they're going to hurt your feelings.
It's amazing. You said so much in your message to me, I don't know how I could possibly reply to everything. I've already had to stop writing twice in order to do things here on Enterprise. I'm a lot busier now.
It's been so long since you left, Arh'leen, but some of the crew members still ask about you. Especially Ensign Sato, Hess, and Kelley. You probably don't remember them, but the three of them were probably
your biggest fans here on Enterprise. I think they might miss you as much as I do, though that's a big guess. I'm not sure if I even have to tell you how much I miss you.
For the first time, there are new people on Enterprise who don't know who you are. They're soldiers called Marines, and everybody's a little nervous about having them onboard. But they're important to our new mission.
For now, let me remind you that you should be very proud of yourself right now for writing your own message. I still can't get over it. It really helped to cheer me up. You see, everyone on Enterprise has been a little sad lately.
You see, Earth was attacked not long ago. We don't know much about the people who attacked us, but a lot of humans were hurt badly. My sister Lizzie, who I told you about earlier, was hurt too. We're about to go into a dangerous part of space, which I never expected. It's a little scary to think of going to a place where few people have said anything good happened, but I'm sure we'll be okay in the end.
It may take me a little longer to send and receive messages from now on, and because our job is no longer to explore, I may not have as many interesting things to tell you. But that doesn't mean I'm going to forget about you, ever. I am now more grateful than every that you are safe on Thera. My every prayer goes out in thanks that you are.
I have to go soon, but I promise I'll write again as soon as I can. I look forward to your next message. Remember, Arh'leen, that I love you very much. With all my heart.
Love,
Your Father
Trip Tucker
fin