Part 2:  Sacrifices

All disclaimers in Part 1.

A/N:  This is an older, more experienced, and wiser Trip.  I tried to make him still sound like the Trip we love, but with the addition of age.  Not so sure how successful that was.  Also-Archer fans remember-this is Trip's story.  Which is why there is some slight Archer character flaws.  It's all from TT's point of view.

Two years later . . .

****

I remember when I was younger, I had a copy of Just Being a Man, the autobiography of Zephram Cochrane. I must have re-read that thing at least ten times before the original paper copy gave in and began to crumble to the point of being un-readable. My parents felt sorry for me and bought me a new copy in the PADD format that was becoming real popular at the time. I never gave up the original copy, though.
As many times as I read and re-read that book, I was damn certain I knew everything about him there was to know. There was so much detail in the book, so much life crammed into 350 pages, that there was no way he could have left anything out. Nothing of any importance anyway.
It's only now as I sit leafing through my own autobiography that I realize how wrong I was back then. For all that was in Cochrane's book-from the grandest revelation to the smallest anecdote, the most intimately personal incidents were probably left out.
And I'm realizing now, as I sit here in my den trying desperately to come up with a proper dedication to my own autobiography, that those are the most important events of all. Hell, if Cochrane was withholding any of the secrets I am, not only do I not know him as well as I thought I did, I don't know him at all.
Somehow I doubt he had such demons to hide. But really, how reckless is it of me to make that statement? Anyone reading my book is never going to be able to guess what I'm leaving out, or why. No, they'll pick up my book expecting a book about my exploits as Chief Engineer of Starfleet's first warp five ship, detailing my career rise during the Romulan War, and explanation for why I retired so relatively early. Most of them will want some additional glimpses of the Xindi Conflict, and I'll give it to them, whatever's not classified. As the summary of the book states, they'll be able to "read about Tucker's role in fighting against the Xindi in an effort to save Earth while simultaneously waging war in his own private battle for redemption."
Yep, it's cheesy as all hell. But the powers that be gotta promote it somehow. My editor is so excited about the phrasing that he'll need a new pair of underwear soon, if he's not careful. He's expecting all sorts of breaking records in terms of advance sales. He's bound and determined that it will outsell Admiral's book. That's great, I guess, even if it isn't exactly the real story of my life. But, hell, it's not like I have a choice. Ouch. A little deja vu in that department.
Let's not go there today, Trip, huh? With Natalie on a business trip and Charlie off on some adventure with Koval that neither one of 'em wanted to tell me about, the house is entirely too quiet to revisit such old demons. Those aren't safe thoughts to have when a man's all alone.
I have to re-read the book, that's what I have to do. Do a little editing. It's why I'm down here in the first place. Well, that and I expect Charlie and Koval will eventually want access to the work room. Rather than being kicked out, I figure I'll just leave it for them. They do work real well together, and Charlie says Koval's been acting kind of distant, closed off lately. I tried to tell him that sometimes Vulcans can be like that. His response was that I don't know anything about Vulcans. Ouch, I guess my brain wants to go back to that conversation after all. Aloneness be damned.
****
"I can't figure it out, Dad. He's never been this aloof before."
"Well, maybe he's sick."
"No. It has to be something more than that. He's always real good about being a typical Vulcan, but he's really pushin' it this time."
"Well, sometimes Vulcans get like that, Charlie. Best thing to do is leave 'em be."
"Oh, dad. You don't know anything about Vulcans."
"Hey! What about T'Pol?"
"You just served with her, Dad. Nothin' personal."
***
Nothin' personal. The kid has no idea. But he's a smart one, my Charlie, because the very next day after that conversation I had an eerily similar conversation with the Admiral himself.
***
"It's damn frustrating, Trip. It's not like the boy's ever really embraced his human half but . . . I don't know, he. . . "
"He's a teenager, Admiral. It's normal for teenage boys to go through stages like that where no one can figure out what the hell's gotten into them. Charlie did, I did, I'm sure you did too."
"I suppose. . ."
"Admiral, Vulcans go through puberty too."
"I know that, Trip. But it's so damn infuriating. The kid's always been so bent on being Vulcan and not human. He refuses to eat meat, doesn't want to eat with his hands, meditates constantly. . . God forbid he slip up and laugh. The only time he allows himself to have any fun is when he's with Charlie. But the past couple days, he's drawn further into his shell."
"Any idea what brought that on?"
"He and T'Pol had some type of talk-funny enough, she made an analogy to puberty too. It was just after his fourteenth birthday."
"See? T'Pol probably just let him know about some Vulcan secret and he's having a rough time dealin' with it. I wouldn't worry about it if I were you."
"But he's my son, Trip. I have to worry."
****
Sometimes I think the bastard reminds me of his relationship with Koval and T'Pol just for spite.
Now, now. Happy thoughts, right?
Besides, I'm not supposed to worry about the Admiral's son am I? Regardless,  I had a little chat with my good friend Kov to make sure none of us really needed to worry.
Turns out it's a Vulcan tradition for parents on the fourteenth birthday to share knowledge of the bonding ritual. Poor kid. No wonder he's having such a hard time. His parents aren't bonded.

That, of course, was when her words had come back to me. "He's entitled to know why I cannot bond with him."
Stupidly, I had assumed that meant only that she didn't *want* to bond with the Cap'n. Not that she wouldn't. . .

But she did try to tell me.

"I realized while in the prison that my passion lies with you.  You are essential to my existence."

Essential to her existence.  I suppose that's the closest a Vulcan will ever get to saying I love you.  Somehow, love just doesn't seem logical enough.  It conjures up images of orange blossoms, rose petals and happy endings.  Bunch of bullshit, really.  Essential to one's existence?  Images of not being able to survive without the other without having to deal with the pain of aving your heart ripped from your chest and stomped on at every opportunity.  Much more realistic.

I wonder if there are rose petals on Vulcan.  Or orange blossoms.  I'll have to ask Kov.

"I discovered the xenophobic traits I believed you to posses were not as strong as I had thought, as you have been keeping in touch with a Vulcan enough to know the Vulcan rituals."

I never even questioned her about why or how she came to the conclusion that I was xenophobic.  I didn't need to.   By that time I had a reputation vastly different from the one I'd had at the beginning of our voyage.  Gone was the happy go lucky Trip.  Here to stay was the vengeful, angry Trip.  At least, that's how it looked to outsiders.  Guess none of them ever talked to my shrink.  He'd tell them all about the stages of grief.  Let's see if I can remember them all:  there's denial, anger, bargaining, acceptance. . . I'm missing some.  Sadness, maybe? Revenge, maybe?  Funny, I can never remember if revenge is part of anger, or if it's a different stage of grief all together. 

Anyway,  Doc would tell 'em all about how anger is just one of many stages of grief.  Perfectly normal, and all that.  One day I turned to him and asked, "Is it perfectly normal to want to destroy an entire species?"

Revenge. Demonstration of anger.  Yes, perfectly normal.

How about shooting innocent civilians and children?

The Doc was taken back a bit by that one.  See, even he can't justify that. Even he realizes that that makes me a complete monster.

Nah, not a complete one, I guess.  It's like I say in the book.  If I were a complete monster, it'd be easier to deal with.  Because then I wouldn't have a conscience.  And then I wouldn't have reoccurring dreams in which the Xindi baby is replaced with Charlie  and Koval.

Well, I didn't exactly put that last part in the book.  I think I used "human children" instead.  Otherwise, people might start to wonder.  

And we wouldn't want them to wonder about the Vulcan Ambassador to Earth's relationship with her husband's best friend, would we?

For the first time all day, I'm allowing myself to smile.  I can't help but smile whenever I think of it.  In the years post-Enterprise, T'Pol is the one in charge. She's the one who calls the shots while the Admiral is nothing more than her *consort.*  Nothing is more fun than to watch his face contort whenever some visiting dignitary calls him that.  Inside, he's screaming to yell, "No! I used to be the Captain of the Enterprise!"  But he just nods his head grimly and I watch his mouth form a fine line.  It makes me laugh on one hand, because it's quite childish. But on the other hand, it only reinforces what I already know: he doesn't *deserve* to be married to T'Pol.   If I were married to T'Pol, I would treasure the fact that she has a position more important than I'll ever have. Whenever anyone asked if I were the consort of Ambassador T'Pol, I'd nod and cheerfully answer, "I certainly am!" and as long as the alien wasn't a Klingon, I'd nudge him playfully and ask, "And isn't she somethin' else?"

But I can't do that.  Because he's married to her, and I'm not.

Hell, I'm willing to bet that if she told him that he was "essential to her existence," he'd do nothing but complain for days that she wouldn't say she that she loved him.  He doesn't want T'Pol as she is.  He wants T'Pol with a few modifications. Which is why he never bothered to take the time to learn anything about Vulcan culture like I did.

****

"So this bonding-explain it a little more, Kov."

"Why are you so curious about Vulcan mating rituals, Trip?"

"I told you already! Humans are a curious species."

"I cannot help but sense there maybe a more personal reason involved."

"Maybe there is.  Gotta be prepared, ya know. Never know when my knight in pointy ears is gonna show up. I want to know how to thank her properly."

"She will not expect you to bond with her as a thank you."

"Funny, Kov.  For someone who doesn't embrace all the attributes of Vulcan, you sure do act  awfully Vulcan sometimes."

"What was the expression you used? You can take the boy out of Florida but not Florida out of the boy? Perhaps the same can be said of Vulcan offspring."

"Bonding, Kov."

"As you wish, Trip.  Once a Vulcan couple is bonded, they share their thoughts and emotions. In many aspects, it is as though their mind is one."

"So, I'm guessin' infidelity is pretty close to nil on Vulcan, huh?"

"The act itself and the identity could be kept secret with the placement of mental shielding. However, unless the affair meant nothing, it is highly unlikely the feelings towards the other could be kept hidden."

***

Knowing this, I still turned her away.

Maybe I don't deserve her either. For all that I claimed to understand pon far, in the end, I treated it as xenophobically as I treated the cogenitor, the Xindi, hell, practically everything we came across.  I completely disregarded the biological and evolutionary implications and narrowed it down to its crudest:  the week before my best friend's wedding, I slept with his fiancée.

It's partially his fault.  When we got back, the Cap'n was full of "Oh, Trip, you don't know how happy I am to see you both. when I thought I'd lost you and T'Pol . . . you don't know how much you love someone until you are certain you've lost them."

Yeah, that pretty much goes double when you have actually lost them.

Still, as he went on and on about how much he was certain he had lost us, the guilt just kept piling up.  Damnit. Why didn't he know about pon far? Surely T'Pol's scheduling it that close to their wedding wasn't a coincidence. Why didn't he know? Why didn't she tell him? If he'd known, then I wouldn't have felt such guilt about what I had done.

But he didn't know, clearly. And thus, I allowed the overwhelming guilt of what I had done with his fiancée to overshadow my own feelings as well as T'Pol's.  I momentarily pushed aside the fact for the past four years, I'd been wanting T'Pol.  I ignored the fact that each and every time I asked Kov about Vulcan rituals, I was hoping for the opportunity to impress T'Pol.  Forgetting how jealous I'd been when they began dating and I was no longer welcome at the Captain's Table. Conveniently, I shoved aside the fact that T'Pol wanted me the most.  All in the name of guilt.

I just couldn't handle any more guilt.

I want to hate him for it. But I can't.  He's my friend and he always will be.  I want to hate her for it, too.  But I can't. Because. . . well, to be honest, because she's essential to my existence too.   I could always blame the Romulans for putting us in the prison. 

But I can't blame them, either. Because, for all that the time in the Romulan prison changed my life for the worse, it also greatly benefited my life.  It was there I began to realize, for the first time, just how damaging my view towards the Xindi was.  I'm ashamed to admit it, but I hadn't felt any guilt over any of my actions up to that point.  The Xindi were the enemy. Period.

That changed when I saw my first Romulan. 

He never saw me. And I was never supposed to see him.  While we were being held in a Romulan prison, we were being guarded by Orions. Saw a lot of Orions.  Even some of the famed slave girls. Guard's got to have something to do besides watching prisoners, after all.  And, our Orion guards were fond of telling us, the Romulans were going to have us sold to the Klingons eventually. Seems our good Captain had placed all of our lives in danger the day he pissed them off. Since we were viewed as little more than cattle waiting to be exchanged, there was little need for our captors to grace us with their presence.

But one fateful night, as T'Pol clung tightly to my body with both of us drenched in sweat, I heard two very heated voices arguing in the hall adjacent to our cell. I figured there might lie the possibility of escape in that argument, so I eased quietly away from T'Pol and crept to a position where I could see what was going on.

There in the corridor stood an Orion man and someone I believed to be a Vulcan male.  A Vulcan male with a strange forehead, but a Vulcan male, nonetheless.

****

"Perhaps G'Tok was right.  You never should do business with a Romulan. They know no honor," claimed the Orion male. 

In response, the man I believed to be a Vulcan pulled out a knife and stabbed the Orion in the chest. "You will not dishonor my people," he said.

***

His people? I'd been astounded. That meant that the Vulcan male was really a Romulan.  Explained the forehead.

I'd never trusted Vulcans.  Glancing over at T'Pol, I felt the briefest moment of suspicion surge again.  They had tried to hold humans back from space flight, hadn't they? And now the Romulans were doing the same thing, weren't they? My doubts ended the moment T'Pol lifted her head and whispered, "Trip?" That one worded question-and the only time she's ever called me by my name-erased all the doubts I had.  In an instant, I recalled the sacrifices she'd made to stay aboard the Enterprise-Koss, Vulcan High Command-and the numerous times she's saved our asses.  She wasn't anymore the enemy than I was.

But for a fleeting moment, I had wondered.

That night I didn't get a lot of sleep.  It had nothing to do with the demands T'Pol had for me or my body. When I did drift off to sleep, I was rewarded nightmares-a flashback of the Xindi village Malcolm and I had visited three months before. This time, though, it's a Romulan village.

****

Hordes are slaughtered.  Romulan after Romulan killed.  The number of Starfleet officers in my dream triples, while the number of Romulans dwindled.

And then there was only a child.  An adorable, pointy eared child with features so much like T'Pol's that I wonder today if I was having some strange ability to foretell the future.  I had known the child to be a Vulcan in my dream and I reached for it, determined to help save it. 

But someone else shot it. 

In my dream, I became hysterical, yelling as loud as I could that they had just killed a Vulcan.  An innocent Vulcan child.

"Vulcan, Romulan? What's the difference?" Someone taunts. Then I woke up.

****

I never told anyone what I saw in the corridor that night. Fifteen years and one war with the Romulans later, I still haven't told.  And I never will.

The incident is when the guilt kicked in. It's also when I began to work towards the "acceptance" part of the grief.  So, nah, I can't hate the Romulans.   

After the Romulan incident came the wedding.  The worst thing I've ever had to endure in my life.  I stood by the Cap'n during their human ceremony.  I stood by, watching as he said every word I felt.  When he said, "I do," I had to choke back "I do too."  When they waltzed together on the floor, I pushed back memories of the passion we had shared.  Feelings of guilt were fast being replaced by feelings of regret.  I'd screwed up.  As I watched the Cap'n take her by the hand at the end of the night and lead back towards his quarters, the full impact of what I'd done set in.

Over the next three months, as the Enterprise headed back towards Earth to be decommissioned, I had to listen to both Archer and Malcolm chirp incessantly about how happy they were. Oh, that isn't fair to Malcolm, I guess. He deserves to be happy.  Yeah, I was happy for Malcolm, and happy for the Cap'n.  But I was so miserable for me that I could have died.

Then it got worse.  Gushily over breakfast, my best friend twisted the knife a little deeper and just a hair towards the left as he announced to me the wonderful impending arrival of a baby.  T'Pol was pregnant.  It couldn't get any worse.

And yet, it did.

We stopped off at a supply depot on the way back home. Guess who was there?  Kov.  I was as happy as the circumstances would allow me to be.  After all, what were the odds of that happening?  Kov and I made our way to a nice secluded shuttlepod where I poured my heart out over a bottle of over priced alien ale.  I trusted Kov.

***

"And now, she's pregnant. A little boy.  How the hell did that happen? Aren't Vulcan DNA and human DNA different enough to make that difficult, if not impossible?  Humans and Apes can't reproduce, and we're nearly identical."

"True, but Apes are not Vulcan females."

"Why would it matter if they were?"

"Do you remember asking me what the purpose of pon far was?"

"Yes.  You said it was for reproduction. But-"  I rose at that point, realization hitting me.  "T'Pol's having MY baby? Not the Cap'n's!" I turned to leave, determined to have a little chat with Miss T'Pol about keeping such vital things from me.

"Trip! Where are you going?"

"I am going to make certain my child knows who its father is."

"You cannot. You must not."

"What do you mean? I cannot? I have to! I can't let someone else raise my child. Besides, T'Pol loves me more anyway. This whole charade has gone far enough."

"Do you intend to love this child, Trip?"

"Of course I do! That's the point."

"Then you should know that if you make your indiscretions known now, you will cause him great pain."

"What do you mean?"

"Male Vulcan offspring associate a great deal of pride and honor to their male lineage. Their fathers. If the child were female, it would not matter, as she would associate her honor and lineage to that of her mother. But by interrupting the union of T'Pol and Archer now, the son would always know that his father allowed his mother to be mated with another male and did nothing to prevent it.  Such an act is dishonorable on Vulcan. It also would cause dishonor as breaking up a union for the sake of feelings is inappropriate on Vulcan as well. Trust me, Trip.  A Vulcan son's relationship with his father is one of utmost importance.  It is something even I realized.  If you cause disgrace to your name by making the truth known now, your child shall suffer because of it."

***

I'd never let any kid of mine suffer. So I suffered for him. In silence

When we'd all returned home, Nat had a nice little three year old surprise waiting for me.  When Enterprise had come back to Earth following the Xindi attack-well, she was available. And I needed somewhat to vent my grief.  She had known me; she'd known Lizzy.  She held me while I cried. The holding turned to other things. Baby-making, in particular. 

***

"I named him Charles Connor Tucker IV," Natalie announced. At my surprised look, she responded, "Well, I didn't figure you were out in space making any other candidates for Charles Tucker IV.  And I knew you'd want to carry on the line. . . "

I thought about that for a moment.  And then I thought of the Admiral's Christmas card perfect family.  A family that should have been mine. And then I asked Natalie to marry me.

***

We've been married ever since.  I am as happy with her as I could be with any woman other than T'Pol.  She's thoughtful, intelligent, and sassy.  Just the way I like 'em.

She didn't like moving to San Francisco, but she agreed.  I, of course, had no choice. Not only was Starfleet headquarters now based there, but so was another very important aspect of my life.  One blue eyed Vulcan boy, in particular.

The Enterprise was only decommissioned for a year when the Romulan War broke out.  When the Romulan War began, Starfleet was so set on having experienced commanders in charge of their suddenly expanded ships that they were willing to look past my digressions. Thus, they offered me my own command with an accompanying promotion. I took it.  

Natalie was pretty pissed. But I had to go. I had two little boys who's lives depended upon it. And when the War broke out, the dream I'd had in the Romulan prison became more recurrent. Thankfully, no one saw a Romulan and lived to tell about it.

Well, I've wasted pretty much the whole day and still haven't come up with an appropriate dedication for this book.  I could dedicate it to the Admiral. That'd be appropriate.  But entirely two sided. He'd take it as a compliment; I'd mean it as an insult. As in: "Thank you for influencing my life in more ways than one."  Oh, and thanks for being a pretty good dad to my kid. I would have helped, but letting him know would have screwed up his life.

No, probably not a good idea.

This train of thought is not helping with the dedication.

The quiet sound of a knock I know to be Koval's sounds on my door. Charlie's knock quickly follows and is louder, more insistent. "Come in," I say to both of them. 

As they enter, I notice the change in Koval's demeanor.  The kid does seem depressed, in his own Vulcan manner.  Time to cheer him up. "Hey, you guys wanna go fishin'?" I offer.  He will only go fishing with me and Charlie.

Charlie rolls his eyes, and Koval gives me the infamous Vulcan eyebrow raise.  Damn, he looks like his mama when he does that. "We've already been fishin', Dad," Charlie explains. 

"I see. Catch anything?"

They nod. "We came to inquire if you would like to help us in the preparations," Koval offers.

I do adore hearing that kid talk. "Sure thing-ya gonna be a fugitive again, Koval?" I ask.

The child arches his chin proudly. So much like his mother. "My mother and father have never stated that I could not consume meat. I simply chose not to." 

"Except for catfish," Charlie teases.

"Yes, except for catfish.  I find it to be a nemesis of sorts," Koval agrees solemnly. 

"Oh don't feel bad, kiddo.  It's in your blood to like it, ya know," I tell him.  Then realizing my mistake, I add, "Your dad's real fond of it."

Koval's eyebrows furrow a bit. "He claims not to appreciate catfish."

Damnit,that's right. He hates the stuff. "Must have confused him with someone else. Happens when you get to be my age."

Charlie snickers, "Yeah, and dad's pretty old. He gets confused a lot."

Koval does not reply, but his mood seems lifted a bit. Enough for him to ask, "Perhaps for desert we could have pecan pie."

Catfish and pecan pie.  And the Admiral hasn't caught on? It's a miracle. "Yeah, I could use some comfort food," I agree, tossing the PADD on the desk. The dedication can wait. 

"Yeah, so could I," Charlie grumbles.

"Why's that?" I ask as we head towards the kitchen.  "Now one of ya take cleanin' duties and the other of ya guttin' duties."

"I will take the latter," Koval volunteers. "I am more detailed."

"Well, I won't argue with you," Charlie agrees.

They have the nasty job.  I set about to fix the pecans, occasionally glancing up to see how harmoniously they work together. 

"So, Charlie, why do you need comfort food?" I demand again. 

The boy's face flushes and he mumbles something in coherent. 

"What was that? You know the hearin' goes when ya get to be my age," I tell him, wondering what devil got up in the middle of the night and ate half my pecans.  Still enough to make due, I guess.

"He said, 'Ya'd need comfortin' to if the woman ya were in love with tore your heart out, stomped on it, and then ate it for lunch,'" Koval clarified, mimicking Charlie's accent perfectly.

Part of me wants to laugh.  Part of me wonders if I should tell him it's likely only to get worse.  But the parent in me does neither. "I remember feeling that way once.  My grandma Tucker-you're great-grandma, she gave me some pretty good advice."  I don't add that the advice was after I had been married to Charlie's momma for a full three years.  "I said, 'Grandma, I just don't know what I'm gonna do. I'm in love with this woman but she's with someone else.  It's drivin' me crazy.' She demanded to know why. 'Well,' I said, 'because, I love her but I can't be with her. And it's ruinin' my life."  All of which were true enough. 

Charlie and Koval have stopped their fish duties and are both looking at me expectantly.  "Well, what'd she say to that?" Charlie demands.

"She said, 'Nonsense!'" I allow a soft laugh as I see their shocked expressions.  I'm sure I looked pretty much the same eleven years ago. " 'Trip,' she said, 'all you have to do is realize that you can love someone even though you can't ever be with them in this life. Once you accept that, everything will fall into place.'"

I think about that.  I have a job I love, a wife that loves me and two wonderful children who are both happy and healthy.  I am happy.  Maybe not as happy as I could be, but I have a good life, nonetheless. 

"Well?" Charlie demands.

"She was right," I respond.   

****

A/N:  Since it's been requested, I am contemplated doing Koval next. I hesitate, however, because I hate Mary Sues and am somewhat afraid he will turn into one.  Or a Gary Stu, rather.  We'll see.

Please Review.