The ancient Vulcan could no longer sit on the floor to meditate, she could
barely see the flame set before her, and her hands trembled as she held
them in front her. She shook her head slowly. It was useless. At two
hundred and fifty-five years old, it really didn't matter if she meditated
or not. Her life was coming to an end. She needed to speak to Sarah. T'pol
called the girl in from the next room.
Sarah Archer was mature for her fifteen years. She was the same height the ancient Vulcan had been before she became bent and crippled with age. Her pale brown hair and green eyes were the same as her famous ancestor's. Only the slight point of her ears, and the maturity of her gaze linked her to her great-great-grandmother.
Olau tu has-bosh ha. are you ill? she asked, in T'pol's native tongue.
"No, I wanted to speak with you." the elderly woman replied.
"All right," Sarah replied, sitting down.
"I am the last of an age, Sarah. Everyone I used to know is dead. I am a walking relic. I need someone to tell things to, before I die, so that they won't be forgotten."
Sarah nodded. She knew how hard this was for the old woman. Sarah enjoyed spending time with her, much more than either Grandma or Dad. They had been so relieved when she had offered to take care of the ancient one for the summer. They hadn't ever taken the time to get to know her they way Sarah did. She loved to hear the stories, that only T'pol could tell firsthand.
"The past hundred and seventy-three years have been hard for me, without Jonathan. We knew it was inevitable, Humans have such short lifespans, and he was already older than I when we met. I'm glad for the fifty years I had with him, and when he died, only my Vulcan discipline kept me from dying with him. I watched our children grow old and die, and our grandchildren. I have aged with your grandparents, and I am finally through outliving my descendants. I will die soon, and I wish to pass things on. May I tell you?"
"Of course!" Sarah exclaimed, "I'll listen as long as you like."
"Thank you." T'pol replied, "Somehow I knew you would."
She talked, and Sarah listened throughout the day and long into the night. Sometimes T'pol spoke in English, sometimes in Vulcan, it didn't matter, Sarah was fluent in both. T'Pol told her of her childhood on Vulcan, of living at the Starfleet compound, how she had once snuck out, and listened to jazz. She spoke for quite a while about the Enterprise, how she had distrusted the crew at first, because they were illogical humans, and how much she regretted that now. How they had even been willing to be friends with her, though she was a Vulcan. She talked about Hoshi and Trip, Malcom, Travis, Dr. Phlox, how she had never come to accept, in the twelve years he lived, the smell of Porthos. She talked for hours about Jonathan Archer, how they had married, and the opposition they faced from both Starfleet and the High Command, her fears at the time for the pressures her son and daughter would face. How Jonathan died, of old age after fifty years of marriage. The time she served as a member of the High Command, how she met Captain Kirk, and almost performed Ambassador Spock's wedding. She told of her life after her retirement, and up to Sarah's birth.
Sarah listened, patiently and began to grow closer to the ancient woman before her, a Vulcan pouring out her soul. Sarah smiled at her when she finished.
"Will you help me into my bed?" T'pol asked, wearily.
"Of course." Sarah replied, her strong arms almost carrying T'pol's frail body the three feet to the bed. Acting on impulse, Sarah tucked her in and kissed her great-great-great grandmother's forehead.
"Good night," she whispered.
"Goodbye, Sarah." T'Pol replied.
Sarah blew out the candle on her way out, and shut the door behind her. T'pol closed her eyes with a smile on her face. Both knew she'd never open them again. Sarah smiled as she silently walked down the hall, knowing the woman she had just tucked in was going to be with her Jonathan.
"I will never forget." she murmured.
Down the hall, T'pol murmured her own last words in reply, Sarlah Nash- veh Ashya. I come, my love.
Sarah Archer was mature for her fifteen years. She was the same height the ancient Vulcan had been before she became bent and crippled with age. Her pale brown hair and green eyes were the same as her famous ancestor's. Only the slight point of her ears, and the maturity of her gaze linked her to her great-great-grandmother.
Olau tu has-bosh ha. are you ill? she asked, in T'pol's native tongue.
"No, I wanted to speak with you." the elderly woman replied.
"All right," Sarah replied, sitting down.
"I am the last of an age, Sarah. Everyone I used to know is dead. I am a walking relic. I need someone to tell things to, before I die, so that they won't be forgotten."
Sarah nodded. She knew how hard this was for the old woman. Sarah enjoyed spending time with her, much more than either Grandma or Dad. They had been so relieved when she had offered to take care of the ancient one for the summer. They hadn't ever taken the time to get to know her they way Sarah did. She loved to hear the stories, that only T'pol could tell firsthand.
"The past hundred and seventy-three years have been hard for me, without Jonathan. We knew it was inevitable, Humans have such short lifespans, and he was already older than I when we met. I'm glad for the fifty years I had with him, and when he died, only my Vulcan discipline kept me from dying with him. I watched our children grow old and die, and our grandchildren. I have aged with your grandparents, and I am finally through outliving my descendants. I will die soon, and I wish to pass things on. May I tell you?"
"Of course!" Sarah exclaimed, "I'll listen as long as you like."
"Thank you." T'pol replied, "Somehow I knew you would."
She talked, and Sarah listened throughout the day and long into the night. Sometimes T'pol spoke in English, sometimes in Vulcan, it didn't matter, Sarah was fluent in both. T'Pol told her of her childhood on Vulcan, of living at the Starfleet compound, how she had once snuck out, and listened to jazz. She spoke for quite a while about the Enterprise, how she had distrusted the crew at first, because they were illogical humans, and how much she regretted that now. How they had even been willing to be friends with her, though she was a Vulcan. She talked about Hoshi and Trip, Malcom, Travis, Dr. Phlox, how she had never come to accept, in the twelve years he lived, the smell of Porthos. She talked for hours about Jonathan Archer, how they had married, and the opposition they faced from both Starfleet and the High Command, her fears at the time for the pressures her son and daughter would face. How Jonathan died, of old age after fifty years of marriage. The time she served as a member of the High Command, how she met Captain Kirk, and almost performed Ambassador Spock's wedding. She told of her life after her retirement, and up to Sarah's birth.
Sarah listened, patiently and began to grow closer to the ancient woman before her, a Vulcan pouring out her soul. Sarah smiled at her when she finished.
"Will you help me into my bed?" T'pol asked, wearily.
"Of course." Sarah replied, her strong arms almost carrying T'pol's frail body the three feet to the bed. Acting on impulse, Sarah tucked her in and kissed her great-great-great grandmother's forehead.
"Good night," she whispered.
"Goodbye, Sarah." T'Pol replied.
Sarah blew out the candle on her way out, and shut the door behind her. T'pol closed her eyes with a smile on her face. Both knew she'd never open them again. Sarah smiled as she silently walked down the hall, knowing the woman she had just tucked in was going to be with her Jonathan.
"I will never forget." she murmured.
Down the hall, T'pol murmured her own last words in reply, Sarlah Nash- veh Ashya. I come, my love.