Chapter Twenty-One
Ten Weeks Later.
Enterprise was home and they were in space dock at Jupiter Station. T'Pol had left Enterprise weeks ago and Trip was excited to see his very pregnant wife. To top it off, he was going to get to see V'Lyn too. He planned on spending a few days with his family on Earth, then heading straight for Vulcan.
But that night, Jon asked Trip and Malcolm to join him in his Ready Room. He had some things he wanted to discuss with them.
"So, the Vulcans really plan to take a ship to Hella to try and what, rescue, those Vulcans there?" Trip stated after the plan was outlined to him. "That's crazy! What do they hope to accomplish?"
"They said they wanted to at least explore the situation," Jon said. "There are other families who may have descendants there. Soval and T'Pau think it's their duty to assess the situation and make a determination if they can bring them home."
"I don't honestly think there's any hope for them, sir," Malcolm interjected, staring at his linked hands. "They were in a state similar to the Vulcans we encountered on the Seleya."
"They'd better be careful." Trip took a cautious look sideways, but the lieutenant's expression was completely shuttered, as it was too often these days. "Nobody knows what caused those Vulcans to revert to that state. We think it was a form of radiation, but after we crashed we had no instrumentation left that could have verified that. You never know, could have been somethin' to do with that ion storm. That part of space may be particularly susceptible to them, and there's no tellin' if they may happen regularly around there. Could explain a lot about that place."
"Whatever it was, it had no effect on us," Reed added dully. "Or V'Lyn. I'm guessing that whatever it was, the effects were cumulative."
"Well, I have to ask you something," Jon started, clasping his hands in front of him on his desk. "Would you be interested in accompanying the team that's going to Hella? The Vulcan government thinks your presence could be very helpful to them."
Trip and Malcolm looked at one another, their expressions identical in horror.
"No, and hell no!" Trip said. "I hope I never see that god-forsaken place again as long as I live!"
Malcolm sat staring into space for some minutes before he spoke, and when he did his voice was so low it was almost inaudible. "Captain… I left something on Hella. Better yet, Hella took something from me: a part of myself that I don't think I'll ever get back. I'm with Trip – I don't ever want to return. I don't think the Vulcans there can be helped. I think they're too far gone."
"But what about V'Lyn?" the captain asked persuasively. "Look at all the progress she's made. Apparently, the scientists and doctors believe they can do the same for the others still there. And with mind-melding –"
"V'Lyn's a child. A very young child," Trip said, digging in his heels against the prospect of being separated from T'Pol again just when the prospect of happiness was opening up in front of him. "Who knows how long it would'a been before it was too late for her? Those Vulcans crawlin' around and swingin' in trees there now were born there. It's all they know. I say let 'em be."
"The Vulcans have made up their minds," Jon explained. "They're going. But I'll let Soval and T'Pau know that they're on their own."
Trip and Malcolm just looked at one another again.
"But listen, I didn't invite you here to bring you down. I asked you to come by to celebrate." The captain reached under his desk and took out a bottle of blue liquor and some glasses. He set them in front of him and poured them all a drink.
"Congratulations to both of you," he said, raising his glass of Andorian ale. "To your survival and return from the dead, to having those unjustified and ridiculous charges dropped against you, and to being considered for promotion!"
"Hear, hear!" Trip said rising and raising his glass to meet his comrades' so they all clinked together.
"Bloody fantastic!" Malcolm said and did the same. Then they all threw back their drinks in one go.
Which wasn't probably the best idea any of them had ever had.
"Whoa!" Trip blinked the tears from his eyes. "Doesn't exactly go down smooth, does it?"
"It's definitely a man's drink," Malcolm added, coughing a little.
The other men laughed, though Trip for one thought the laughter was kind of forced. And that whereas before – before they'd crash landed on that place – on an occasion like this he'd see that twinkle of humor in Malcolm's eyes that showed the fun side of him that lurked underneath that very stiff and proper outside he'd hid behind for so long.
He'd hardly ever smiled since they came back from Hella. And when he did, clearly because it was expected of him, it never got anywhere near his eyes.
"Have a seat," Jon said. "I have something I want to say to both of you."
Both officers sat down again, but though the captain gazed at first one and then the other of them as he sat at his desk, it was a while before he spoke.
"We've come a long way since we first left space dock four years ago," he said at last, reflectively. "We've been through a lot, and we're stronger because of it. I can't think of anyone else I would have wanted with me out there exploring the galaxy, then chasing down and destroying the Xindi weapon, sending those Nazi aliens back to where they belonged and restoring the time line, and bringing down Terra Prime. It's been one hell of a ride, gentlemen. And I'm grateful for everything you've done to make Enterprise's mission successful."
"You sound like this is goodbye," Trip said. "What gives?"
"Well, Enterprise's mission has changed. It won't be a vessel of exploration in the near future, it'll be a warship."
Malcolm's brow furrowed, but he didn't look particularly surprised; this had been a possibility since before the run-in with the Romulan drone ship. Trip looked down, uncomfortable with the confirmation of his suspicions.
"And…I wanted you two to be the first to know," the captain continued. "You're not the only ones up for a promotion. Actually, it's a done deal. I've been promoted to Commodore, effective immediately."
"Congratulations, sir. No-one deserves it more." There it was again: that ghost of a smile that had precious little warmth behind it. On the contrary; the gray eyes were lowered immediately, hiding the sadness in them.
"So, this is goodbye then." Trip wished he still had some of the ale left in his glass. He felt like he needed it.
Things weren't supposed to end like this…
"I guess it is," Jon said.
"I'm happy for you Cap'n, I really am," the engineer said, opting for honesty. "It's just that I never would have figured you for the kinda guy that sits behind a desk."
"I won't be exactly sitting behind a desk," Jon responded. "I'm going to be commanding the fleet – from the field. So, I'll be out there doing what I do best if and when this war commences."
"Well, captain," Reed said. "As I said, you deserve it."
"Hear, hear!" Trip said, pushing his glass forward for a refill. Jon stood up and poured them all some more of the blue 'fire' and they threw their drinks back again.
It didn't come as quite a shock this time. Maybe their gullets were too numb from the first one to feel it so much.
"We should go celebrate properly," Trip suggested. "This is major!"
"Agreed," Malcolm said, though with an effort. "We should go find a pub and have dinner and drinks!"
"Yeah!" The engineer grinned at the thought. "Hell, it's been a long time since I had a big juicy steak!"
"Some other time gentlemen," Jon said, rising. "I already have plans for dinner. So, if you'll excuse me."
Suddenly, the door chime sounded.
"Come," the captain said.
Hoshi walked in, with her hair down around her shoulders, wearing a pretty red and black dress. "Oh, I'm sorry Jon…I mean captain," she corrected herself, blushing slightly. "I didn't mean to disturb you. I didn't know you had company."
"Since when are Trip and Malcolm 'company'?" Jon asked playfully.
"I was just seeing if you were ready to go," she asked, not answering. And not looking at Malcolm, either.
"Give me a few minutes."
Then she smiled a polite, awkward smile at her crewmates, and left.
"Ooo-kay," Trip said. "What was that all about?"
"What was what all about?" Jon replied, not looking at either of them. "I don't know what you're getting at, Trip, but Hoshi and I are going to dinner to discuss a job. I've offered her the position as my personal assistant."
"Well. Another reason to celebrate."
"Alright then, I'm off. Uh, have another drink on me. But leave the place tidy, will you?" Jon said with a smile, and then he left. There was a spring in his step that hadn't been there for quite a while.
"I could be wrong," Trip said to Malcolm when he was gone. "But did you see what I saw?"
"Yes, I do believe I did," the Brit replied and threw back the generous measure of raw spirit he'd just poured for himself.
"Who'd have thought it? Hoshi and the cap'n?" Trip grinned, pouring himself one of the same – he'd take this a bit more slowly than the previous two. "Mind you, I thought when she came on board she was sweet on him."
Malcolm did not respond at first. He suddenly seemed to be finding the bottom of his empty glass very interesting. "Well, it seems as if everybody is…'moving on'," he said at last.
Trip realized too late, and could have smacked himself in the mouth. "Mal… I'm sorry… I didn't mean…"
"No bother," he interrupted his friend. "I'm happy for them, really I am. But listen, I have a few things to do in the Armoury before the technical team arrive tomorrow to discuss the upgrades. So, I'm off. Give my best to T'Pol and V'Lyn, will you?"
"Malcolm-!" Trip started desperately.
But he was out of the door before the engineer could figure out what to say.
=/\=
Five Months Later.
T'Pol's House, Vulcan
It was a hot but still and starry night when T'Pol had her baby at the home she had inherited from her mother, T'Les. Dr. Yuris was there, along with Phlox. A Mid-wife along with Vulcan Priestess was also present to help keep the mother-to-be focused so that she could manage the pain.
Trip was there throughout, holding her hand and wiping her forehead. The labor was long and hard.
"How you holdin' up?" he asked T'Pol, who was just coming out of a contraction.
She looked at him with eyes like daggers. "Do you have to keep asking me that?" she snapped.
"I just wanna make sure you're okay- see if there's anything I can do."
"You," she said, trying to maintain as much control as she could, but wasn't doing very well, "have done quite enough!"
Trip didn't know what to do or what to say. Everything he attempted seemed to be the wrong thing in that moment.
The Mid-wife took pity on him. "This may be a good time for you to get some air Captain Tucker," she said. "It is a very pleasant evening and it will be a while longer."
"But I don't want to miss anything," he replied.
"I will have you summoned in a timely fashion," she stated as she helped T'Pol sit up and placed a pillow behind her back. "I promise."
"I better stay," he said. "She might need…"
"Trip!" T'Pol interrupted. "Go get some air! Please!"
"Alright…if you insist," he said slowly. He felt dismissed, but he complied.
He went out into the garden and started to pace around. He wanted to be inside with T'Pol, but she didn't seem to want him there at the moment. He wasn't mad though, he knew she was just uncomfortable and in a lot of pain.
As he paced, his mind started to wander back to some of the times they had shared aboard Enterprise. They had come such a long way - from distrust and dislike of one another, to establishing a great working relationship, to becoming friends, then lovers and bondmates- now, parents.
That thought made him smile.
Trip sat on one of the benches and his mind began to wander to everything that had happened over the last few months since he and the others had returned from Hella.
A lot had happened and things were very different for everyone. They had been granted a much-needed shore leave, participated in promotion ceremonies, briefings regarding Starfleet's anticipated response to the threat of war with the Romulans, and more shore leave.
Trip thought about Jon's promotion. He had been was very busy having meetings with the admirals and attending to the task of putting his staff together. Hoshi accompanied him everywhere he went. She seemed to have thrown herself completely into her work and it appeared to Trip and everyone else that they had really become a team.
The engineer smirked a bit at the thought of how close Jon and Hoshi had become. Though there was speculation, no-one asked if they were more than 'a good team.'
Trip smiled thinking about when Jon had told him about Travis and his promotion to Lieutenant. He had said, jokingly, that the young man had been stolen by Erika Hernandez – as her helmsman and second officer on the Columbia.
He was really happy about Malcolm's promotion to Lieutenant Commander and assignment to Enterprise as First Officer. 'If anybody deserves it, Malcolm does.' Trip thought to himself. 'Hell, I wouldn't have been mad if the brass had jumped right over the next couple of ranks and promoted him right to Captain'. He felt certain his friend was ready for the job right now and could certainly handle it. 'He'd be a great Captain!'
Trip had been concerned about Malcolm for months, and still was. He had noticed that he seemed really depressed, though it didn't stop him from carrying out his duties in the same exemplary way he always had. But though he was as efficient as ever, something was different. After his shift was done, he simply disappeared into his quarters. Travis had told Trip that he had seen the Brit in the gym a few times, where the violence with which he attacked the punch-bag bothered him. It suggested to Trip that a whole lot of emotion was boiling away under that impassive exterior, but Malcolm had simply refused to be drawn into conversation.
The engineer shook his head and wandered back into the house for a cold glass of water. As he sipped it, he noticed one of V'Lyn's drawings on the refrigerator. That filled him with joy. He had been so very happy to see V'Lyn again. In the time she had been on Vulcan, she had really started to blossom and thrive. He himself had been promoted to Captain and assigned to Jupiter Station, which was just fine with him. That allowed him to do his bit for the war effort but also to return to Vulcan frequently, and would pretty much ensure that he wouldn't be somewhere off in space, light years away from his family for long stretches of time.
After a time, he was allowed back inside. The big moment had finally arrived. The contractions came hard and fast and Trip admired his wife's endurance. Though he thought she'd broken his hand at least twice, he never left her side.
Soon, they had a brand new baby boy. And, when he actually got to hold him in his arms, he was almost overcome. He couldn't believe that they finally had a child.
Trip looked down at the baby, and tearfully looked up at T'Pol. "I… I don't know what to say," he said. "I'm utterly speechless."
"It is official then," she replied. "I have accomplished the impossible."
Trip laughed. Then kissed the baby.
"Hello, Xyan Charles Tucker," he said to his son. He was named for T'Pol's father and for his own father. "You are truly amazing!"
Observing Trip sleepily, T'Pol asked. "Are you, happy?"
He looked up at her. "I am way past happy my love," he replied. "I don't even know if I have the words to describe what I'm feelin' right now."
To that, T'Pol simply smiled…tiredly. But Trip saw it. He knew, she was happy too. After everything they had been through, having lost Lorien (if he ever really existed), having truly lost Elizabeth, then losing the opportunity to adopt and raise V'Lyn- they had a child.
Trip was a father at last.
And he wouldn't have to give this one away… to anybody.
=/\=
Several Days Later.
Malcolm had been alone in his apartment, sleepless, waiting for news; Liz was due any time now, so he was thinking that it would soon be his turn to endure the agony of looking on while his child was born. In the meantime, though he wouldn't have admitted it for anything, he couldn't help envying Trip his security. He was loved, he was stepping into the role of the father of the family. By contrast to that, what had he to look forward to, the partner almost by accident of a woman who might at any moment discover that she no longer wanted to have anything to do with him? The father of a child he might hardly get to see?
The buzz of his phone in the quiet put an end to yet another round of bitter, fruitless speculation.
Even though T'Pol had been further along than Liz by several months, they ended up going into labor just days apart. Vulcan pregnancies lasted a few months longer than humans.' And now, Malcolm's presence was required at the maternity wing of Starfleet's medical center.
Later.
Malcolm entered the room, wearing scrubs and a surgical mask.
"Come on in, Commander," the doctor said cheerfully. "The contractions are still about five minutes apart, so we may have some time to go. Get comfortable," she added, pointing to the chair beside the bed. "I'll be back shortly."
"Thank you doctor," Malcolm said, his mouth completely dry. Then went to sit down as ordered, though he perched uncomfortably on the edge of the chair. "How are we doing?" he asked, offering Liz the best smile he could muster.
"I don't know how we are," she said. "But I'm…having a baby!" She must have caught the way he flinched, because her face softened and she put out a hand that didn't quite touch him. "I'm fine, hanging in there. Sorry for getting you out of bed at two in the morning."
"I told you I would be here, no matter what. Actually, I wasn't even in bed, I couldn't sleep." He'd wanted to suggest moving in with her for the last month of the pregnancy, just so he could keep an eye on her, but even the suggestion had stuck in his throat. There were far too many things that had never been said, far too many questions that had never been asked or answered. He had no right to inflict his company on her, unwanted.
Look what had happened last time…
"How did you get here?"
"I took a flitter" she said. "I didn't wanna drive myself."
He grimaced. Perhaps it was time they did do some talking, however uncomfortable it might be; they had to find some way to manage this, or he was going to go stark, staring mad. "Look," he started. "If we're going to successfully co-parent, you're going to have to listen to me sometimes. I understand that you are an independent adult and that you can take care of yourself…"
Suddenly, Liz grabbed the rails of the bed and tensed up. Her eyes became wide and Malcolm could tell she was in pain.
"Another one," she said. "Another contraction!"
Malcolm stood up and grabbed her hand, his own damp with perspiration. "Breathe," he said. "Come on, just like we practiced."
Liz gave him the evil eye for a moment, but then went into the breathing routine. He counted with her as she went through it. After about forty-five seconds the contraction subsided and she leaned back against the head of the bed, which was raised so that she was almost in a sitting position. She was sweating and her hair – longer now than it had been – was pulled back in a pony tail.
"Okay, now. What were you saying?" she asked.
"Never mind." The Brit dabbed her forehead with damp cloth.
Next moment, Liz reached over to the nightstand and grabbed a bag of chocolate-covered raisins. She opened them and popped a couple in her mouth, much to Malcolm's horror.
"What do you think you're doing?" he asked sternly.
"What does it look like?" she snapped. "Calming my nerves. I always eat these when I'm anxious. You know that!"
"Well not today you aren't!" he snapped back. "You're not supposed to eat during labor!"
"Why not?"
He actually couldn't think of a reason, other than that one might go down the wrong way and get stuck in her throat. "It may be harmful. Let me get you some ice chips instead," he said, and tried to pull the bag from her hand.
"No!" she said. "That's an old wives' tale that people used to believe a hundred years ago! You can eat during labor, it's a well-known fact!"
"You're not eating this and endangering yourself!" he retorted, and made a grab for the bag. She clutched it harder, and they wrestled over it for a few seconds before suddenly, and quite inevitably, the bag ripped and the contents exploded out and went everywhere.
"Now see what you did!" she snarled, trying to snatch some off the blanket where they'd fallen.
"I told you I'd get you some ice chips!"
"Well I don't want any goddamned ice chips!" she shouted and threw the few raisins she still had in her hand at him. He ducked and was just about to say something else when the infuriated woman was hit with another contraction. That pretty well trumped anything either of them had wanted to say, and he picked up the damp cloth and started dabbing at her face with it again, silently raging at himself for being the sort of bastard who'd deny her a few sweets when she was having to go through something like this – and all because he hadn't been able to control himself back on Hella.
Sooner than he'd have believed possible, the contractions were on top of one another, coming harder and faster. Then Liz's deep grunt of effort announced it was time to start pushing.
Malcolm stayed at the head of the bed, his mind chaotic with conflicting emotions as he did what little he could to help her get through the contractions and the pushing. But the midwife called him to see when the baby's head came out, and when his daughter had made her entrance into the world, he got to cut the umbilical cord.
Once the squirming, yelling baby was placed in her mother's arms and got to take her first all-important drink of milk, he finally felt able to relax, sit back and just watch in silent wonder. Then, when the baby had had enough milk and had settled down, the nurses cleaned her up and wrapped her in a blanket – and passed her to him.
He'd been less nervous in the pitched battle against the Xindi warships than he was now as they put his arms in the right position and lowered the baby into them, making sure father and daughter were comfortable before suggesting that 'Mommy' might enjoy getting clean and washing her hair while 'Daddy' got to know his little girl.
Malcolm looked down at the tiny little life he was holding in his arms and was almost overwhelmed. He'd never had anything to do with babies, never expected to have one of his own; hadn't a clue where to start or where to go, or what to do when he got there. He was so elated he really didn't know what to do with himself.
"She's…the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my life," he finally said in a hushed voice, looking up at Liz. "She's got ten perfect little fingers…and, and…her little feet, they're so bloody tiny! And I think she has grey eyes!"
Liz laughed as the nurse helped her get cleaned up. "It's good to see you so happy for a change."
He'd had no idea he was going to feel like this. No one could ever have adequately described what this moment would be like, or prepared him for it.
"Look what we did!" he said. "Look what we made…together!"
Liz laughed again, and a few tears slid down her face. She smiled tremulously up at the nurse, though, so presumably she felt the same joy he did. Reeds don't cry, his father would have said, but the tears were pricking at his eyes all the same. They were tears of joy!
"Thank you!" he said to the mother of his child. "Thank you for this wonderful, magnificent gift!"
"Thank you," she said in return, watching him with an expression almost of discovery.
Malcolm looked into the face of this precious little thing and was instantly enslaved for life.
He didn't understand how that was possible. The baby had done nothing but come out into the world, squirmed and cried and suckled. Yet he was in love. He knew right then that he could never, ever, let anything happen to her. He would smother her with love and affection, and defend her with his life.
"So, I know we haven't been able to agree on a name," he finally choked out. "But we have to call her something."
"Sherrie," Liz said. "Sherrie Madeline Reed."
Malcolm looked up at her. "Sherrie?" he almost whispered. "That's…a lovely name." It was his favorite aunt. Someone with whom he'd had a special relationship.
Pretty soon Sherrie nodded off. Malcolm sat watching her as she slept, promising her silently that nothing, nothing in the world, would ever harm her if he could prevent it. As he sat in the chair, loving his child and admiring her mother, now cleaned up and being helped into comfortable night-wear while the bedding was changed, his eyes became moist again. He blinked hard.
What the hell? He hadn't cried since the day he'd failed the Royal Navy entrance tests. He'd refused to cry! But he found himself having to wipe away something from his eyes very quickly before anyone saw what was happening.
He was a father! Malcolm Stuart Reed! A father!
And it felt absolutely, bloody – marvelous!
Author's Note: One more chapter after this one, the Conclusion. So stay tuned! Bri