AN: Anything in "..." is Standard English, anything in '...' is Vulcan. That is all.
Chapter Three
When Soval coded at borderline conciousness, Paris and McCoy were ready for it. Readiness didn't keep Paris from panicking as Soval began to crash.
"He's not breathing!" Doctor Morales was in a real panic. He was Roswell's resident physician, but he was no xenobiologist nor an expert in Vulcan anatomy. McCoy, on the other hand, was at least one if not the other, and he just took it all in grim stride with determination that came from a place no one else could tap.
"Paris, you got any first-aid training?"
"I worked a summer as a volunteer EMT. Does that count?"
"God enough. Get up here, we're doing this the real old-fashioned way!" he waved at the table. Paris hesitated only a moment before she climbed onto the table. She felt really self-conscious and wondered how many cultural taboos she was about to break as she started CPR. She had only saved Human lives before, never an extra terrestrial and certainly never a Vulcan.
"Come on." She whispered between bouts, "Come on, Ambassador. You can't die like this, you deserve better."
"I don't think he can hear you, darlin'." McCoy murmured as she gave Soval her oxygen, willing him to breathe. Paris glared at him but said nothing. It was too much like kissing, but everything suddenly leveled out and Paris scrambled from the table. No one in the room moved or hardly dared breathe. Dark brown eyes opened to the world for the first time in twenty-seven years and Paris exhaled sharply as Soval turned his head to her. He blinked several times to focus and she saw recognition light his eyes. How could he possibly recognize her?
'Qual se tu?" he asked in a voice harsh from disuse. Across the table, McCoy's eyebrows had almost reached his hairline. Paris didn't know how to answer that and thought he'd mistaken her for someone else. She knew what the question meant, but not how to answer when it was addressed to her person. But he repeated the question in a stronger voice, lifting one hand to touch the side of her face. McCoy choked and Paris went very still. Images flashed through her mind and she understood.
"Doctor Abraham?" there was great sadness in his voice as he called her by name and she seized his hand in hers, the only person in the room allowed to touch him so intimately.
'You're asking for Miriam.' Paris said slowly, knowing her grief was reaching him through their joined hands, 'I'm her daughter, Paris Abraham.'
'I did not know Miriam had a daughter, forgive me. You look so like your mother I thought she was with me.' For a Vulcan, Soval was very expressive. Paris saw a distinct sadness in his eyes and knew she would have to break the news of her mother's death very gently. They got him to recovery and Paris made a phone-call. As the call rang through, she had purposely dialed a private number, Paris looked around the corner where she could see McCoy and Morales as they discussed reanimating T'Pol next. At first Paris thought he had turned his phone off, he tended to do that sometimes, but on the sixth ring he picked up.
"I told you to use a landline." Blunt. Not that Paris was surprised.
"He asked about Mom."
"What?"
" He asked about Mom." She repeated through clenched teeth.
"Who asked?"
"Ambassador Soval." Paris raked one hand through her hair and tried to hold the tears at bay long enough to talk, "He thought I was Mom."
"Why would he think you were Miriam?"
"Because I obviously look like her, the way she looked in 1984!" Paris dropped her voice as McCoy looked her way, "Uncle Jack, I didn't have the heart to tell him that Mom's been dead for six years." She learned againsy the wall and closed her eyes.
"Paris."
"Yes, sir?"
"Finish what you started with this bloody project and put it all behind you."
"This isn't something you shove into the back of the closet and forget about it, sir." She rubbed her eyes tiredly, "I have another survivor to reanimate, two bodies to account for, and a transport ship sitting in the basement. Not to mention, I've got to make sure nobody else finds out about the images on Saturn Six." She heard a soft scrape and looked over to see McCoy standing a few feet away. She sighed and turned her back on him, "Listen, I've gotta go. I'll call on a landline next time. Goodbye, sir." Hanging up, Paris stuffed the phone into her pocket, sliding to the floor. Paris hugged her knees to her chest and tried to remember the last time she'd eaten or slept. It had to be three or four days. She remembered eating Domino's Pizza the night she'd found the Enterprise, and she'd eaten breakfast on Air Force One on the way to Colorado Springs, but not since then.
Paris was aware when Doctor McCoy sat down next to her but she did not engage him in conversation. About fifteen minutes had gone by when her phone rang. She dug it out of her pocket and looked at the screen.
"Who is it?"
"I don't know. No number usually means a wrong number or a telemarketer."
"A what?"
"I'll tell you in a second." She flipped open her phone, "This is Doctor Abraham." There was a brief pause and she groaned, rubbing her forehead, "Hello?"
"Yes, hello. Is this Doctor Abraham?" A distinctly male voice filtered through. Shit. Telemarketers. Paris ignored McCoy's inquisitive glances. Something about the voice was familiar to her, but she was so tired, so strung-out, she couldn't put her finger on it.
"Speaking."
"Oh good. You sounded older for a moment."
"Excuse me?" Paris frowned.
"Forgive any forwardness, my dear doctor." She swore he was laughing. She was about to demand he name himself when she happened to look at McCoy, who shrugged.
"Forgiven, sir. Are you trying to reach Doctor McCoy?"
"Considering I haven't heard from the man in a few hours."
"Just a minute." She handed the phone over, "It's for you."
"Surprise, surprise. What'd he say to you?"
"It's you he wants to talk to." She shrugged and got up, "Just flip the phone closed when you're done." Paris went around the corner to give McCoy privacy and tried to figure out how they'd gotten her number, let alone how anyone up there knew how to get hold of her at all. As she paced the hallway, it occurred to her hat she had actually spoken to the captain of the Enterprise. Paris stopped dead in her tracks.
"Oh…my god!" She leaned against the wall, trying to catch her breath, "That was him!"
"Doctor Abraham?" she almost jumped out of her skin as Doctor McCoy hailed her.
"Uh?"
"Your turn, darlin'." He smiled and gave back the phone, "He don't bite hard."
"Thanks." She swallowed hard and lifted the phone, "Captain Kirk?" God her voice sounded small.
"That's what Spock calls an epiphany." His chuckle was not mean-spirited, but she didn't appreciate it.
"We just call them "Eureka Moments" or "Aha Moments" in my business, Captain. So, uh, what can a lone, lowly astrophysicist do for the captain of the Enterprise?"
"Oh, nothing. Well, actually, there are a few things you can do." Uh oh.
"Yes, sir?" Paris couldn't believe this conversation was even happening. She tried to picture the captain, where he was as they had this very bizarre conversation, what he looked like. She was thinking a young, very young William Shatner, except his voice sounded wrong.
"First, stop calling me Captain, it makes me feel really old."
"Well, what else am I supposed to call you, sir?"
"Not Sir, either." Oh he was one cocky bastard. McCoy must have figured it out, he was rolling his eyes.
"Then what should I call you, sir?"
"Jim, if you please, Doctor Abraham."
"Now who feels old!" she laughed, "No, you don't get to call me Doctor Abraham if I'm not allowed to call you Captain or Sir."
"Then what would you prefer?"
"Just Paris, please."
"Paris. I like that."
"You said there were a few things I could do for you, and seeing as we the business of names taken care of." She had to get him back on track, "So, what else can I do for you?"
"Stop taking yourself for granted, it's so very frustrating."
"Was that an order?"
"I can make it one. Assistant Director of SETI, current chief executive of Project Vulcan. Those are not small responsibilities. Not to mention talking down the Joint Chiefs of Staff, standing up in defense of five hundred displaced explorers."
"How would you know about that?" More realistically, how could he not know about that? He probably had a trace on her right now. He probably knew where she was and who she talked to at any time of day.
"Doctor Abraham, suffice it to say you are a person of great interest to my officers and myself." There was something in his voice that made her wish this was a face-to-face encounter, "So I will only say this once, Doctor Abraham, and once only. Never doubt yourself and never, never let someone tell you that you can't do something." It was probably the most random, single nicest thing anyone had said to her.
"Thank you, captain."
"My pleasure, Doctor Abraham. I'm not going to say goodbye, however."
"Because you don't say goodbye unless you mean it, I know. Until next time, Captain."
"Sweetheart, just call me Jim." He scolded before she flipped her phone closed and tucked it into her back pocket.
"Come on, darlin', Doctor Morales should have things ready for round two by now." McCoy took her by the arm and led the way back to the reanimation chamber, where they set about bringing T'Pol out of stasis. They did not wake the younger Vulcan before they moved her to Recovery, Paris had her reasons for doing it that way. Once everything was ready, she called NORAD on a landline.
"Yes, may I speak to Admiral Abraham, please?"
"Just a moment." She waited five minutes to speak to her father, who asked for an update.
"Success, sir. Both survivors have been taken out of stasis and are resting in Recovery. I have gone over the T'Valla a number of times and if I can get a sign-off, I'll make sure it goes back to the people it belongs to."
"How do we know that thing can even fly, Paris? It's been sitting down there for twenty-seven years!"
"I'll get someone down here who can tell us if the T'Valla is flight-capable." She was thinking about Spock, who would know far more about the small craft than anyone else in Roswell.
"Do you know someone?"
"I've got a connection I'm willing to try using, sir. Do I have your permission to proceed?"
"Yes. Good luck." There was a pause, "Paris?"
"Yes?"
"Will I see you again?" There was a lot of weight in that question. Paris looked over her shoulder at McCoy, who was in the middle of a conference with Captain Kirk.
"I can't give you a straight answer, sir. I haven't cleared it with the Enterprise's captain." She got McCoy's attention and lowered the phone, "What'd he say?" McCoy flashed her a smile and a thumbs-up. She was going. She gulped, "Admiral Abraham?"
"Yes, doctor?"
"I think this is where I say goodbye, good luck, and live long and prosper, sir." For some reason, the thought of leaving everything behind made her sad, but she was excited. Her father sighed.
"Paris, will you come back to the mountain once before you leave?"
"I can do that easy. I'll say goodbye in person, I promise."
"Until then." Her father hung up first and she had no sooner put her phone in her pocket than the air around her came alive with electricity and she heard a static crackle. The fine hairs on her body stood on end and she watched everything familiar to her disappear. When she touched down a minute later, she was so far away from Earth and Area 51 it wasn't even funny. She blinked, utterly confused and a little frightened.
"Ho-ly…sweet baby." She stepped off the platform in one of the transporter rooms, looking around. Off to one side, seated behind the controls, was Scotty. Beside him sat a young Russian. They looked at each other and smiled. Scotty and Chekov. What an odd pair. She pointed to the closed doors, "Um, do I just…?"
"Zhat vay, Doctor Abraham." Chekov smiled and two pairs of kind, smiling eyes watched her leave the transporter room. The hallway outside was empty, but she suspected it was only a matter of time before she encountered someone on the crew. Clenching her hands into fists to stop the shaking, Paris padded through the hallways of the Enterprise. She encountered any number of crew, but no one gave her more than a cursory glance.
"Find Commander Spock and take him back to Roswell so he can tell you if the T'Valla will fly." She whispered hoarsely to herself. She stood out like a sore thumb, and felt very self-conscious.
"Doctor Abraham!" someone called her by name and she spun around.
"Doctor McCoy!" finally, a familiar face! She ran back to him, "Thank god!"
"Get a little lost, darlin'?"
"A little?"
"Come on, they don't bite." He led her by the hand into a turbo-lift and directed it to the bridge, "If it's Spock or Jim you're lookin' for, they'll be on the bridge." As soon as they were alone, Paris sank to the deck and leaned her head against the wall.
"Holy fuck." She covered her eyes with one hand. She felt the lift stop and knew when Doctor McCoy dropped to his knees before her. She heard the soft beeping of the tri-corder and the equally soft cursing as McCoy got back readings. She hadn't slept in three days, hadn't eaten in four, her system had taken a serious hit. Her neurologic processes were way off the charts.
"Damn it, Paris, why didn't you say something?"
"I'm sorry!" she croaked. McCoy raked one hand through his hair, a thoroughly frustrated look on his face.
"I swear you're related to him! I don't know how, but you're just like him! You smile like him, you laugh like him! You push yourself until you collapse, just like him!" McCoy growled, putting together a hypospray with record speed and precision, "It'll be just my luck if you're allergic to every damn drug on the market."
"I'm not."
"Good, then this should do some good." He pressed the tip of the hypo to the side of her neck, "Jim hates these things with a passion, hates 'em. Always has."
"Bet that keeps him out of Sickbay." She winced as the drug entered her bloodstream, but felt better almost instantly. McCoy settled down next to her, and it grew quiet in the lift. She wondered how long it would be before anyone missed them. He ran a second scan, made a noise of approval, and she heard another click. She raised her head from her arms and looked at him, "What's that?"
"The first one was to stabilize your system, this one's gonna let you go down nice and easy. You need some sleep, kiddo, this'll help." He touched the hypo to the side of her neck, she felt the weird sting, and five seconds later was sound asleep.
Paris slept what felt like hours, and when she woke up again, she had no concept of what time it was. A gentle glow was steadily getting brighter, one she rolled over to escape. She was in a bed, a strangely comfortable, warm bed. She groaned and blinked, freeing one arm to look at her watch. It was almost six in the morning if her watch was accurate, she double-checked the clock sitting on the bedside table to see if that was right. Yep.
"Ugh. How long was I out?" she shoved up on her elbows to look around. She was obviously no where near Sickbay, or back on Earth, the room looked too different. She was in someone's quarters, she wasn't sure who had given up their bed to a stranger.
"Somebody's got good taste." She murmured as she rolled over and sat up, running one hand through her hair. Her lab-coat, jeans, and shirt lay folded neatly on a chair with her boots on top, she wore a pair of boxers and a tanktop. They were fitted to a female figure, she must have borrowed from one of the girls. As Paris looked around from the bed, she heard a beeping sound. It belonged to a device sitting on the bedside table by the clock. She reached over and activated the device by pressing a button on it's surface and watched a three-dimensional figure come to life. It was only about six inches tall, a Human male figure clad in black regulation trousers, boots, and a gold Command division tunic. He was tall, she guessed, with messy blonde hair and blue eyes that laughed for no reason at all.
"Good morning, Doctor Abraham." The figure addressed her and she gasped, "By now I assume you've returned to the world of the living and welcome you aboard the Enterprise. I'm only sorry I didn't have a chance to do so in person yesterday. I've spoken to Doctor McCoy at length regarding your health, both physical and mental, and I share his concerns. However, that is for later discussion. As you are awake and watching this message, I will simply give you these orders: Take a shower and prepare for your day. We will meet you in the mess-hall for breakfast. Good morning." With that, the figure disappeared and Paris only sat still for a few minutes before she sprang out of bed and dashed into the bathroom. The shower had running water, a luxury she had not expected to find on the starship, but she didn't linger. Washing her hair, she went out to get dressed and noticed a uniform folded on the counter. It was a feminized version of the uniforms she'd seen the men wearing, tailored especially to the female figure.
"They even got the color right." She smiled and pulled on the uniform. Once she had the tunic on, she pulled her hair into a braid and coiled it into a bun at the nape of her neck in the same military-esque style she'd adopted at Roswell. She looked at her reflection in the mirror and nodded, smoothing down the front of her tunic, "Not a bad sight for somebody who slept more than twelve hours." She left the bathroom, left the bedroom, and headed out on her own, snagging her lab-coat on the way out, just on the outside chance anyone had a question regarding her validity to the title of Doctor. Finding a computer, she located the mess-hall and set off in that direction to meet her hosts for breakfast. None of the nerves she'd felt yesterday were prevalent today. This morning, Paris felt good, she felt sure of herself. When she stepped out of the lift on Deck 12, she unconsciously brushed off her tunic again and peeked out around the corner. Captain Kirk stood outside the mess-hall with Commander Spock and Doctor McCoy. She recognized Kirk from the message and there was no one else the Vulcan officer beside him could possibly be. She fought off a raging blush and stepped out around the corner.
"Look long and hard, boys, this is the only time you'll catch me in a uniform." She stood still for inspection, having effectively startled all three of them, and didn't miss the way Doctor McCoy's eyes widened. Vulcans were not known for expressiveness, but Spock proved her wrong on that front. His eyebrows almost reached his hairline and she clearly saw his eyes widen.
"Well, Doctor Abraham, look at you!" Kirk was, of course, living up to his reputation as he circled her, "Damn you clean up nice."
"I'll take that as a compliment, Captain." She needled him on purpose. McCoy rolled his eyes.
"Leave the poor girl alone, Jim, for God's sake." The old-fashioned doctor scolded, taking Paris in hand and leading the way into the mess. They headed for a line of catering carts loaded with more food than she'd ever seen before except in buffet lines. Some of it she recognized, some of it she didn't. She peeked over McCoy's shoulder at something that vaguely resembled bread pudding.
"What's safe?"
"Just about everything. Any preference?"
"You know more about the food up here than I do."
"Fair enough." He just smiled at her and went through the line.
"Do you think anyone's missed me down there?"
"We've been monitoring the frequencies of your last location very closely, Doctor Abraham. There has been no undue outburst." Spock's voice almost right in her ear was the last thing Paris had expected and she almost jumped out of her own skin. So she was still a little high-strung after all. She jumped out of line in her alarm, but Spock caught her.
"Jesus! Do you make it a bad habit to sneak up on people first thing in the morning, Commander?" she gasped. He just looked at her and shared a look with McCoy before leading her to a table. She wasn't alone for long once he deduced she could stay out of trouble long enough for them to get breakfast, she was aware of someone offering her a cup of what smelled like coffee.
"Here, Doctor. Try zhat." She recognized the accent first as she accepted the offering and looked up into the eyes of the Enterprise's Russian navigator. He looked so young! She smiled.
"Thank you, Ensign."
"May I…join you?"
"Please, be my guest. I can't promise I'll be very good company." She waved to an empty seat and suspected her table would soon be very full. Chekov was very good company, joined very shortly by the helmsman. Chekov's offering was coffee, Russian style, and she fell in love with it.
"The Captain says you're from the surface." Sulu ventured after a while. Paris looked for Kirk and his officers. They were still in line, and it didn't seem they either noticed or cared.
"Yeah. Not that I'll have much to miss or leave behind once I get the Vulcans out."
"Commander Spock's ship?"
"It's a Vaklas-type personal transport, smaller than most ships. How much do you know about that?"
"Everything. Captain doesn't believe in secrets."
"From the important people, anyway." She shrugged, "The only real trouble I had was convincing the authorities you weren't any threat to us."
"Ve are…threatening?" Chekov looked so confused. Paris smiled.
"Well, it's not every day the Enterprise shows up in Saturn's orbit." She sipped the coffee, "The only other problem I had was when Ambassador Soval mistook me for my mother."
"Why is that a bad thing?"
"She died six years ago." Paris frowned, leaning against the bulkhead behind her, "I guess I look like she did when she was my age."
"Don't be sad." Chekov moved around the table to sit next to her, "You're too pretty to be sad."
"I don't know if I'm sad or tired, or both." She looked up as the others arrived. Paris looked at the tray McCoy put down before her and wrinkled her nose, "I'm not going to starve, Doctor McCoy."
"Says the girl who hasn't slept in four days or eaten in three. Be quiet and eat." He scolded, giving her that look. Breakfast, not usually her favorite meal of the day nor one she took seriously, was an enjoyable affair and she realized that the small enclave of officers was truly a functioning family-unit. She envied them that stability, she'd never really had the kind of family her friends did growing up. Yeah she had two parents who loved her, but she rarely saw them at all. And she saw even less of her father after Mom's death. After breakfast, she was given free reign of the Enterprise. She hadn't the faintest idea where to go, but she did want to get Spock alone to ask him for help with the T'Valla. He disappeared rather quickly, but some searching got her into the science labs.
"Whoa!" she breathed as she stepped into every scientist's dream, "This place is incredible!" There were stations for all scientific disciplines, separate smaller labs for experiments. She found Spock in one of the astro-labs, studying star-charts of the Solar System and nearby systems, planetary, and stellar bodies.
"Commander?"
"Doctor Abraham." The First Officer turned from his charts, "How may I be of assistance this morning?"
"I need to ask you a favor." She didn't move from the door of the lab, afraid to go any closer to the youngest Vulcan she'd ever seen or met, "The T'Valla is ready for launch, I'm just not sure if she'll get off the ground. I was…wondering if you wouldn't mind coming back to Area 51 with me to judge the T'Valla's flight-worthiness."
"Why are you asking me?"
"Because I don't trust myself to fly a Vulcan ship that's not even supposed to exist in my time. Because it doesn't belong to the United States government or any government in this century. It belongs to the Vulcans, and I just thought you might want it back." She shrugged uncomfortably.
"You…are willing to give it back to the Vulcan government?"
"If you'll take it."
"We would be pleased to have the T'Valla and her survivors. So few of us are left as it is." He grew sad, grim, but Paris didn't pry. She left the doorway and ventured nearer.
"So…does that mean you'll come back to Area 51 with me?"
"Yes. It goes against the Temporal Prime Directive, but I will do it."
"We'll worry about Prime Directives later, right now…we've got a bigger problem on our hands. My government can't keep you a secret forever, I'd hate to think of the deals we'll have to make with other countries just for them to keep their mouths shut."
"I forget how different Earth was in your century from mine."
"You probably didn't expect to end up here. How are you going to get back to your own time?"
"There is something called a Slingshot Effect I am going to attempt. Compensating for the size and mass of the Enterprise and the second ship, I should be able to calculate a proper, successful trajectory home." He was completely calm about it, and it took Paris a minute to figure out what he was talking about.
"Slingshot Effect? But…you didn't have to use…uh oh." She stopped herself, "Wait a minute, why would you know about the Slingshot Effect already?" She swore the Vulcan smiled at her. He didn't tell her anything, or offer any explanation. When they reported to the transporter room to beam back to Area 51, she looked at Spock as they stood on the transporter, "When we get back, Commander, you owe me an explanation. You're not supposed to know what the light-speed breakaway factor is or what it can do, as far as I'm concerned."
"You have your explanation." He promised with a completely straight face. Next to her Paris, Doctor McCoy quietly stifled a snicker. A moment later, they touched down in a hallway inside Area 51. Paris and Doctor McCoy wore their civilian togs, Spock his duty uniform. Looking both ways before leaving the side hallway, she waved him out.
"Stay close, Commander. The only thing about you that's going to turn heads around here is your uniform." She strode down the hallway towards the hangar where they kept the T'Valla. Once they reached the hangar, McCoy gave her his communicator and she left them to inspect the Vulcan craft and judge it's flight-worthiness. She went to the Hospital Ward to visit Soval. He was awake and sitting up on the hospital bed when she came in and when he saw her, he actually smiled.
"Doctor Abraham, you look rested." He held out one hand to her, "Come, sit."
"I was hoping you'd be awake, Ambassador." She perched on the bedside, letting him take her hand, "And there's nothing like a good solid sixteen hours of sleep to solve a body's problems."
"Sixteen hours? How did you get so much time?"
"I had some help." She blushed, "Doctor McCoy was very…understanding."
"Paris, there is much you have not told me." He looked at her with a sadness in his eyes and she felt guilty.
"I don't know how, Ambassador."
"May I ask you to share your thoughts with me?" He freed his hand and raised it but did not touch her. He wouldn't, not without her permission.
"You will find new friends and much sadness, regret, estrangement, hateful words between people." She took his hand in hers, "But there is something in my thoughts that I wish I could tell you without resorting to this."
"I will know it when I find it." He coaxed her closer and she closed her eyes as he touched sensitive fingertips to her face, finding her meld-points after some searching. She saw everything he saw, every painful memory, every long night spent searching for some proof that they were not alone in the universe. Finding the Enterprise, the chaos that had followed, finding him, reviving him and the pain of being mistaken for her mother.
"Show me." He whispered, "Show me why." So she tried to go back far enough to remember the day she'd heard the news, the funeral, a week spent mourning, yearly visits to the headstone. A startling sadness hit her, a sadness that could not be her own, and Paris saw memories that did not belong to her. Memories of her mother, young, happy, beautiful. She realized how much she really did look like Miriam Abraham. She had believed that Soval and T'Pol had been put into stasis right away, but from what she saw, T'Pol had gone first. Soval had requested time with Miriam, with his beautiful Human caretaker. Feelings came with the memories that followed. Startling, raw, sensual, but never desperate. Quiet hours wasted at the bedside, or in the bed itself. Stolen moments snatched from the very will of the universe, soft touches, whispered endearments in a language alien but understood, skin touching skin. Paris surfaced from the mind-meld gasping for breath.
"Did you know you would outlive her?" Paris whispered, all too aware of the fact that her lips were damp and swollen, and a strange but not unpleasant taste lingered on her tongue. Soval took her hand in his, tracing the lines of her palm as if memorizing the stories told in the creases.
"I never thought to loose her without knowing. Is Captain Kirk in any hurry to go back to his own time?"
"They can't stay here forever, and when they leave I'll go with them. What I'll do or where I'll go, I don't know and don't care." She curled her fingers around his, looking up to meet his gaze, "Would you like to say goodbye?"
"Yes, I would like that very much."
"I'll make arrangements." She turned his hand in hers and pressed her lips to the back, "Wait here." Leaving the room, she closed the door behind her and went around the corner before she flipped open the communicator McCoy had given her, "Abraham to Enterprise."
"Kirk here."
"Jim, I need a favor."
"Trouble?"
"No, not yet. I'm bringing him back to the Enterprise."
"Dare I ask?" he sounded intrigued. Paris sighed.
"He wants to say goodbye, Captain. It's the least I can do for him."
"Oh, say no more. I'll get on it right away." Then he was gone. Paris closed the communicator. She went to stores and found clothes Soval could wear outside of Roswell, making do with a pair of olive-drab fatigues. Paris laid the bundle on the bed and backed away, "I called on a favor to Captain Kirk. Do you need anything else?"
"No, Paris. Thank you." He smiled sadly and she left to give him privacy. Had her mother really made so much of an impression on Soval in three days? When he emerged, she had already checked on T'Pol and sent her back to the Enterprise with Doctor McCoy and Spock, who announced the T'Valla fit to launch. She would withstand the light-speed breakaway factor, but once back in the twenty-third century, she would need intense repairs before she would be going anywhere else. Slipping her hand into Soval's, Paris called to the Enterprise for a beam-out. Kirk must have spoken to Scotty, because they touched down just outside the cemetery. Paris sent Soval inside and stopped to buy flowers from the cart outside the gates. She bought three lilies and three roses and tied them up with a black silk ribbon the vendor sold her for a dollar. Going into the cemetery, she found Soval waiting for her. He looked sharp and unassuming in the fatigues, the way it should be. She led the way to the section where they had laid her mother to rest. When they reached the headstone, she gave Soval the six flowers and backed away.
"Take your time, Ambassaor." She gave him respectful distance and watched him sink to his knees. His hands trembled as he laid the flowers on the grave and he touched the cold stone. Then he began to speak. He told Miriam about all of the things Paris had done just in four days, the choices she'd made and the people she'd met.
"You would be so proud of your daughter, Miriam. She goes into an uncertain future with her head high, fearless in the face of uncertainty." He shook his head, "She is such a remarkably child, so much like you were when we first met. I loathe mortality for the loss of friends." Then he lapsed into Vulcan, she guessed he was praying. Fifteen minutes passed before he struggled to his feet, she slipped her hand under his arm and helped him stand.
"Ambassador?"
"I have said goodbye. We may go." He turned to her and touched her hair with fond, shaky fingers, "You do look so much like your mother, Paris, you are so much like her and yet so different."
"That would only make sense, Ambassador." She smiled and took his hand in hers, "It is only logical for my mother to be a different person from myself." Soval just touched her hair, the side of her face, his eyes full of sadness and contentment at once. Soval just touched her hair, the side of her face, his eyes full of sadness and contentment at once.
"You will make someone very happy, Paris. The man lucky enough to marry you will be perhaps the most fortunate among men."
"Who would be interested? I'm a scientist!" She knew plenty of boys who were scared away by that fact. A smart, successful woman…there was nothing in the world more terrifying as far as they were concerned.
"I did not say you would find your future husband in the twenty-first century, Paris." Soval chided as they left the cemetery. Paris was ready with a come-back, and ended up almost swallowing her tongue.
