NEW HORIZON

By Kidders

Chapter Three: Reunion

It didn't smell like home. Inside, the old farmhouse looked exactly as it had when he'd left, minus a few layers of dust which always seemed to coat anything with a surface, people included. But the bigger difference, Cooper realized with a quietly indrawn breath, was the sound—or complete lack of it. He'd shut down the narration boxes situated in every room, annoyed by the constant drone, and now the silence was almost deafening. No bustle in the kitchen as Donald cooked breakfast and tried to get the kids fed and off to school, no bubbling from the coffee maker as it brewed a fresh pot to pour into his thermos for a day of work out in the fields, no insults being flung back and forth across the table between Tom and Murph over whatever topic they'd chosen to disagree over. Almost like the hushed vacuum of space, nothing breaking through the barrier now except the quickened pace of his breathing, the stillness smothering in its embrace. Coop tried to adjust to the newness of it all. On the outside, his house could have been built last year, instead of over a hundred—no, now it would be almost two hundred years ago if you accounted for time slippage. Brought to the station who knew how many decades earlier, separated from its original location by time and space, the history of old and new blended together in homage to those who'd given their lives to get this far.

Absently, Cooper toed the kitchen floor with his shoe, frowning at the lack of scuff marks. The wood had been buffed smooth and clean, taken back to a time before the blight, before he and his kids had lived here, before even he and his wife and her parents had come to call this place their own. And now, like the absent grime and dirt, Cooper felt as an intruder in his own home. A speck of dust mote, not welcome in this new world, unnoticed and unwanted and alone. His house had become a damned museum piece, a fate he suspected was just over the horizon for himself as well. The only positive spin was he had some clothes to his name, found tucked away in a closet in his old bedroom, either too small for Tom to use or simply overlooked by the new caretakers and brought along for the ride. A small consolation, but at least he wouldn't be meeting his daughter dressed in hand-me-downs or a hospital gown.

Suddenly drained, Cooper sank into one of the chairs at the table, weariness forcing him to sit and rest. It frustrated him to still be less than one hundred percent. For days he'd felt trapped in a countdown, waiting for Murphy to arrive, wanting more than anything to see her yet reluctant too, dreading to see how time had treated her all these years. How time would judge him—no, how she would judge him. Tomorrow he would have the answer, regardless. Strangely, he wished TARS was around so he'd have someone to talk to, but the robot's power source had been depleted, prompting his tour guide to go off in search of a replacement.

Drumming his fingers on the table, Coop grimaced at the memory. The kid had meant well, but he'd been nearly vibrating with enthusiasm, professing about high school papers and suggestions made for the layout of this place, served with a side dish heavy in hero worship. Nothing felt farther from the truth. Seeing your own name on a monument honoring the sacrifices made to save the people of the Earth wasn't remotely cheerful, especially given the fact you were still alive and kicking, while everyone else on the list had died. Well, except for Brand. She had a shot, at least. With CASE's help, they might've coaxed the Endurance all the way to Edmunds' planet. Set up base camp. But then what? Stuck in another galaxy, she was as alone as he was here. No, he realized suddenly, she had Wolf. Once Amelia woke Edmunds from cryo-sleep, she'd have everything she wanted right at her fingertips. Together, they could start the colony, carry on with the mission. Succeed where he'd failed.

Exhausted, Cooper rested his chin over his folded arms and allowed his mind to wander. Not even sure what he was really feeling, wishing he could just jump up and roam the station, but knowing his legs weren't ready to carry him that kind of distance. He didn't begrudge Brand for the company she was keeping. Hell, no one should have to bear the burden of saving the human race all alone. But right now, in this moment, Cooper felt every bit of the mileage time had placed on him, all one-hundred-and-twenty-four years of it.

The head of the bed was raised as high as Murphy Cooper could tolerate, roughly one third of the thing's capability. High enough to make breathing close to a normal affair, though she was tethered to oxygen, a paltry complaint given what she was waiting for. The reunion of a father and a daughter, a hope she'd cultivated nearly her entire life, biding the decades as they passed, waiting for one sliver of time, one precious moment out of the infinite fourth dimension, grounded and preserved just for her. The time was now, her past and present colliding to bestow her with the single most important person lacking in her existence since she was ten years old. Two years in cryo-sleep had been nothing. She was here, on the station bearing her name, and her dad was walking in the door. She would've leaped to the floor if it had been possible. As it was, when the door actually opened, it was good she was reclining somewhat, because the shock just about knocked her socks off.

Murph stared, could not help it, could not tear her eyes from the sight of her father standing beside her hospital bed, looking almost exactly as he had when he'd left her all those years ago. Impossible, her mind argued, yet the irrefutable proof stood right in front of her. Her dad, wearing blue jeans and light denim shirt, expression somewhat dazed as their eyes met. A rush of joy and love filled her to the brim, overwhelming in a burst of such intensity Murph could only compare the moment to a select few instances in her life where her father was concerned: the discovery he had been her ghost all along, figuring out the message he'd left for her, hearing the news—the final affirmation—her dad was alive and had come back just like he'd promised. She smiled, a tiny gasp leaving her lips as she basked in the sight of him.

A closer study verified he did look much the same, as she'd first noticed, but a more thorough examination revealed subtle differences. He was paler than she'd ever seen him, only a hint of the tan he'd carried through much of her childhood-garnered from working outdoors day after day—still visible. And it wasn't a healthy pale, she judged, he was thinner and sad somehow, as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. With a start, she knew that's precisely what it was, a weight she had put there. Blinking the swell of tears from her aging eyes, Murph raised a trembling hand toward him.

His gaze was wide and uncertain, but he took her hand and sank into a nearby chair, expression slowly crumbling as he shook his head. "Oh, Murph," he whispered, "I tried to get here sooner, I tried. I was your ghost, baby. All that time, it was me." He sniffed, eyes beginning to water. "Sendin' the message was the best I could do."

Murph squeezed his hand, her smile growing, before quickly fading as her gaze became tinged with regret. "I know, Dad. And I'm sorry."

"What?" He seemed stunned by her apology. "No! You got nothin' to be sorry about. I was the one who left."

Giving him a stern look, Murph shook her head. "But you didn't abandon me. You didn't know about the lies the professor told, you didn't know Plan A was a sham. You found out when I sent Brand that recording. I should never have said those words, accused you. But I was so angry and broken up inside…the professor had just admitted in his dying breath he'd lied—to me, to all of us. I was devastated, and I lashed out at you because I thought you'd broken your promise, even though deep down I knew it was wrong."

Taking her hand and pressing it against his cheek, her father seemed to be soaking up every minute they got to spend together. "Murph, if you hadn't sent the message, I wouldn't have tried to come home when I did. Would have done a lot of things different, most likely. As it was, I got here too late. Should've listened to ya, Murph. I should have stayed," he declared softly.

Hindsight was always 20/20, Murph knew, but it this case the old adage was being stretched to the nth degree. "The Earth was dying, Dad. You were right to go."

"And now you're the one dyin'. The price I had to pay was too damn high!" His blue eyes swam with tears, a few spilling over in a steady trickle down his cheekbones, tiny rivulets diverted by her swollen knuckles.

"No, you did the right thing," she insisted. "I know it was hard on both of us, but if you hadn't had the courage to leave me and Tom, to go and try to save the world, we wouldn't be here. Dad, because you sacrificed what you did—gave all you had to give—I got to marry and have kids of my own. No matter how badly it hurt to see you go, I wouldn't trade my kids for anything. Being able to save everyone, finding love, becoming a mother… Dad, you gave me the greatest gift I could've ever hoped to ask for."

"But I didn't get to see any of it, took too long to get back." Stubborn to a fault, just like always. An integral part of the Cooper DNA, she'd long ago concluded, like father, like daughter.

"So that's why I made this." She took the memory stick she'd been hiding in her other hand and gently placed it in his, guiding both his palms to the mattress. It was packed with memories, every special event she'd wanted to share—her wedding to Getty, the birth of her three children, the kids growing up—contained and stored for her father to retrieve when he was ready. A way to make up for all those stupid times she had refused to send replies while he was on the Endurance. "Watch it later, after you get to where you're going."

"Where I'm goin'? I don't understand."

He truly looked puzzled, and she sighed, steeling herself for the final stretch. To get her dad started on the journey to where she knew he needed to go. To give him a second chance at happiness, just as he'd given her. "I don't want you to stay and watch me die, Dad. No parent should have to do that. I saw what it did to Tom after he lost Jesse, the grief nearly destroyed him. He was never the same later on, even with Coop and Lois clawing out their existence in the farmhouse. Tom was just hollow…a husk of what he used to be. I don't want you to be forced to endure such a loss, not when you've given up so much already. Just go."

"Murph, where the hell am I supposed to go? Earth's gone. Gettin' those stations off the ground was the final death blow. Found out that much from the narrator boxes at the farm—your idea, by the way, turnin' our home into a show-and-tell for the curious masses?" She grinned at him, and his answering chuckle was music to her ears. Almost there, she thought. "But where am I gonna go, huh? NASA doesn't want me anymore, not that I blame 'em. After I reached critical mass on the whole Lazarus and Endurance missions, I got so upset, it tripped all sorts of bells and whistles on the medical equipment in my hospital room. At which point my nurse sent the whole lot of 'em packin', banned them from ever visitin' again." He sighed, bowing his head. "Shut a door never to be reopened as far as ever flyin' again goes."

She reached, just able to brush the top of his hair with her fingers. "Maybe not."

"What?" He lifted his head and looked at her, expression so wistful and yearning, she nearly laughed. "How?"

Smothering a cough, Murph steered the conversation to a related topic, not quite ready to see him leave. "I heard about your AI needing a new power source."

The pain in his eyes was slowly lessening, and it did her good to see him smile. A real smile, like she used to see when she was a kid. "Oh, ya did, did ya?"

"I made arrangements for a full upgrade—new power couplings, faster data processors, more memory, increased complexities regarding human interaction. I think you'll be pleased with outcome."

His eyebrows rose, the tear tracks having evaporated from the planes of his face. "You're not tellin' me you turned my robot into a crybaby, are ya?"

"Nope. Much better—Tars is now equipped to ride shotgun in the latest Ranger model based on the station."

It was obvious her dad didn't quite grasp where she was guiding him, but his eyes lit up at the mention of the ship. "Yeah, saw 'em from the observation deck. They're really sleek…powerful looking." His fingers twitched, and she knew he was thinking about climbing back into the cockpit.

Time to drop another hint, send it his way. "I heard some other news which might interest you." His distracted "Uh huh" made her roll her eyes. Her father could be so single-minded about some things. "The station received a ping from the other galaxy. Brand made it, Dad. She's out there waiting, all alone."

"Well, that's great," he agreed enthusiastically, thoughts obviously still stuck in flying mode. It only took about thirty seconds for the reality of what she'd just said to sink in. "Wait, what do ya mean, all alone?"

"Wolf Edmunds wasn't so fortunate. He died in his cryo-bed, buried under a rockslide. So Brand's out there, Dad. Setting up camp on another world by herself. By the time they get these stations to the point of going through the wormhole, well…it could be a spell."

She watched as a myriad of emotions flitted over his face, satisfied to see those deep blue eyes widen as an idea began to take root, the seed firmly planted, the destination she'd been leading him to since their reunion started finally beginning to register. Now she could sit back and watch it grow.

"You mean…" His eyes darted to the ceiling, seemingly fixed on a distant point in space, only to return to her narrowed in speculation. "You want me to go out there?" he drawled, tucking her gift in his shirt pocket as he leaned back in the chair. "Ain't gonna be like hoppin' a ride into town, Murph. You realize that, right?"

She giggled, the act making an odd snorting noise in the back of her throat. Probably brought on by the cannula pronged up her nose, not at all dignified for a person of her advanced age. Not that she cared, nor did her father. He hadn't even blinked, his gaze a growing mix of the same adventure-craving intensity and excitement he'd worn after figuring out the meaning of the coordinates they'd found written in the dust in her childhood bedroom. Before leaving on the trip to the mysterious bunker—NASA's secret location—where they'd met the professor and his daughter, and their lives had been changed forever. It had been a journey of discovery, of feeling, of purpose. One she'd initially loathed because it took her father away from her, but now was so grateful it had. This time, in a sense, she would the one doing the departing. Not before seeing the rest of her family again, and definitely not before sending her father on to the place he and Amelia Brand would eventually call home. It wasn't the end of the road, but the start of one.

Her dad was waiting, eagerly scooted forward on the edge of the chair, embracing her words, and when she raised her shaking fingers to trace the outline of a rectangle, he grinned. "You brought the bolt cutters, didn't you?" she whispered with a gleam in her eyes.

To be continued…

A/N: Sorry this took so long. Have health issues which flared up, bad enough I could barely make it to work, much less have leftover energy for writing. Hope it was worth the wait. Thanks to all who reviewed, I appreciate it. And I've decided to send Cooper to Edmunds. I primarily write h/c, so that'll be the focus, bur who knows, anything's possible.