Love, Loss, and the Dangers of Time Travel

A Star Trek: Enterprise Fanfic

By Missmissa85

A/N: I despise the series finale with every fiber of my being. So this is my answer to it. Which pushes this story into the realms of AU, however, we are talking about Star Trek. Anything's possible.

Ghostly images danced across his mind. His mother and father looked at him disparagingly. Then Captain Jeffries. And then Captain Archer. Then Hoshi, Travis, Malcolm, and even Phlox. And then T'Pol. Lastly his own son stared at him, his face full of disappointment. Trip cried out as his son turned away from him.

Only semi-conscious, he heaved the contents of his stomach onto the floor next to the bed. He clawed madly at the covers trying to escape, but a firm hand on his shoulder held him back. He looked up and saw Charles, his son, standing in the doorway watching him with wide eyes.

"Calm yourself," his wife whispered evenly, yet firmly.

Trip began muttering incoherently. He seemed to be begging his son's forgiveness. Charles fearfully took a step back from the doorway. A small child's cries suddenly resounded through the house.

"Charles, go see to your sister," his mother told him.

"But, Mother -"

"Go." The volume of her voice had not raised a single decibel, but the firmness of her tone sent Charles' feet padding down the hall.

T'Pol came around the bed and grabbed Trip by the shoulders and sat him up. His breathing was irregular and he was still muttering. T'Pol put a hand firmly on each side of his face and made him look at her. He gasped in shock, but he seemed to return to his senses.

T'Pol relaxed her hands as every muscle in trip's body loosened. She continued to watch him closely as he breathed deeply for the next few moments.

"I'm sorry," he whispered finally.

T'Pol looked into the hall. T'Mir's crying had finally stopped. "Your…behavior is affecting the children. Perhaps we should tell them the whole story."

Trip was quiet. He placed a hand on her swollen belly and said, "I think we should name him Jonathan, or at least make it his middle name."

"Trip," she said, firmness giving way to anger.

He reluctantly looked up at her. "We can't tell them. T'Mir wouldn't understand and Charles -"

"Charles needs to know," T'Pol insisted evenly.

Trip angrily threw the covers aside and pushed past T'Pol. "I'll get something to clean up the mess," he muttered as he walked into stomped into their bathroom.

Jonathan Archer groaned as the first rays of sun hit his face. I couldn't be morning, all evidence to the contrary.

He sat bolt upright as heavy pounding resounded through the apartment. Someone was at the door. He tossed off the covers and grabbed a shirt from the nearby chair.

"Hang on a minute!" he shouted as he hastily pulled the shirt on over his head.

He opened the door to find no one standing in the hall, until he looked down. Charles Tucker IV looked up at him.

Stunned he said, "How the hell did you get here?"

Charles ducked under Jonathan's raised arm and entered the apartment. Jonathan closed the door and rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"I stowed away on the late transport," Charles answered without one hint of guilt.

Jonathan folded his arms across his chest. "Would you mind telling me why you're here?" he asked hotly.

"I want to know why my father has nightmares," Charles stated simply.

Jonathan suddenly became quite uncomfortable. He uncrossed his arms and walked quickly into his kitchen. "I need some coffee," he said in a strained voice.

Charles rushed after him. "I know you know, Uncle Jonathan. Do not try to hide the truth from me. I am old enough to hear it," he insisted in a very un-Vulcan fashion.

Jonathan smiled as he put a cup under the drink dispenser. "You're just like your mother, you know," he told the boy as coffee filled the cup.

Charles raised his already slanted eyebrow. More calmly, he said, "Please, Uncle Jonathan. I can feel how troubled my father is. I have felt it my entire life. I need to know why."

Jonathan took a loud slurp from his coffee cup. "The simple version is that a woman from the future transported your father away and created a duplicate the moment he terminally injured himself and saved him using technology from the future. She then replaced his corpse with the man she saved, the man you know as your father."

Charles' eyes widened with the sudden influx of information. "I don't understand," he said. "Who was this woman? Why did she choose to save Father?"

Jonathan clicked his tongue. "I was afraid you were going to say that. Look, it's a long story, Charles, and I have a meeting with Starfleet Command at 10 o'clock."

Charles followed his godfather into the bedroom. "It is only oh-five-thirty," he informed the captain. "I believe four and a half hours is more than sufficient time to prepare yourself for your meeting and to…fill in the details."

Jonathan paused in the doorway and turned around. "It's kind of…complicated," he told his godson.

The slightest hint of a smile crossed Charles' lips. "I'm sure I can follow along."