Nothing but Time
Lorian and Henry
A/N: Wow! I never thought I'd write such a controversial story from beginning to end. Thanks for eveyone's comments. And special thanks to Monica!
Chapter 22
Bouncing on the balls of his feet, Archer seemed to wear a grin a lot these days. He'd whistle an off-key tune while entering the Bridge, beam at his crewmen in the Mess Hall and tease whoever was on duty with him. Hoshi of course was able to diagnose the "problem" right away, even without the extra bit of knowledge she already held: the man was completely in love.
T'Pol was a little harder to read … after all, she'd practiced years of stuffing away emotions. There were little things that rattled like a giant gong to the crew – things like occasionally calling the captain Jonathan with a gleam in her eye. It was the kind of spark the first officer got when she was able to report on new spatial phenomenon, brag about her son (although she'd never admit to that) or the way she had talked about Trip. It was electrifying and impossible to ignore.
Other little clues were available, if one looked hard enough – they often touched as she handed him a PADD, the way he'd glance over at her station without any real need to or the way he'd lean in … closer than he ever had before … when hearing information from his science officer.
Yeah – Hoshi didn't need to be Sam Spade to figure this out. So, she and Phlox, who also already knew the score, waited patiently until word spread around the ship. It wasn't the kind of rumor either wanted to start, but it was the kind of gossip that both desperately wanted to participate in.
Travis was the first one to eventually say something to Hoshi. As T'Pol sauntered into the Ready Room and the door slid closed, the helmsman turned to the communications officer with a strangled smile.
"Wanna hear something weird?" he asked.
Suddenly, her eyes widened and her ears perked up.
"Okay," she said. She knew well enough this meant he had a juicy piece of gossip.
"Gonzales said he saw T'Pol leave the captain's room this morning … and I mean 0600 this morning."
Malcolm snorted from his station, murmuring to himself that it was rubbish. He'd prided himself on his investigative skills – surely he wouldn't have missed signs of two Bridge officers involved in a … relationship.
Hoshi asked, "Is that so?"
Travis stared at his long-time friend, trying to weasel information out of her just by looking at her. After a slight twitch of his lips, she caved a little.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked.
"Because I think you're about to tell me what I want to know."
Hoshi's eyes shot to the Ready Room door and then back at Travis. "I really can't say."
Grinning, the man said, "I think you just did."
"She didn't say anything, Travis," Malcolm dismissed.
The helmsman shook his head and focused back on his panel, as Hoshi bit her lip desperately trying to keep her mouth shut.
As if sensing the dilemma, T'Pol wandered back onto the Bridge, a decided ghost of a smile on her face, as if her lips were tugging up helplessly by mere centimeters.
"Well, bloody hell," Malcolm whispered, giving the once over to T'Pol. Hoshi giggled.
"Did I miss something humorous?" T'Pol asked.
As the two fumbled for words, Travis came to the rescue. "I think I just proved a point, T'Pol," he said.
It was customary, after all these years, for the Bridge crew to jest with each other – even T'Pol. Most of the formal titles, including the "sirs" and "ma'ams," along with their Starfleet uniforms, had disappeared ages ago. The only people who managed still to have their rank hoisted on them, despite their objections, were the captain -- who'd always be Captain Archer to many, Doctor Phlox -- whose name never felt truly complete without the medical title and Chef -- whose real name was too embarrassing to say anyway.
For a moment, the Vulcan wondered whether she should reward her curiosity, or continue to let the comment go unchallenged. Something nipped at her, as if it were time to address an important issue.
"What point was that, Travis?" she asked.
"Pardon me," he said, turning around, "but … when's the wedding?"
T'Pol considered the question much longer than she should've, giving an immediate indication to the crew something really was up between the two … something more than the over-long gazes Archer held with her for years. After a deep breath, she spoke carefully.
"We're not getting married, although I assume that is not out of the question."
Stunned, each member of the crew hung his mouth open with disbelief.
"We have only been dating a few months," she reported.
Malcolm guffawed, as Travis' smile widened and spoke up bravely.
"Well, I think it's fantastic. Captain Archer …."
On cue, the captain strolled out of his office and noticed the immediate silence that hung in the air. Cocking his head to one side, he placed his hands on his hips and looked over his crewmembers as they feebly tried to man their stations. A furrow rippled onto his head as well as a smirk. As the captain, he was aware when it was important for him to know something … and sometimes when it wasn't. With a timid smile and relieved forehead, he looked at T'Pol.
"I'm going to get some coffee. You have the Bridge."
With that, he casually walked into the turbolift, and let them resume their discussion without him. Travis stared back at the science officer, who already seemed engrossed in her duties. Although he, and the rest of the crew, would've liked to know about the relationship, T'Pol didn't offer any details. Leaving it at how long they'd been dating, she peered into the scanner.
She hadn't regretted her decision to say something – after all these years together … eighteen now … they were family. Explaining their relationship was the right thing to do. But, the question about marriage stuck in her mind. Marriage – she wasn't sure she could do it again. Vulcans remarried; that wasn't really the problem. It was whether she could.
'That bears consideration,' she thought.
Chapter 23
Jon and T'Pol met at his quarters, while Henry and Elyssa played with Toru and Yoshiko over at their cabin. He'd used the excuse of "being like old times" to eat dinner alone with her and arranged for Hoshi to take care of the kids just for a few hours.
Almost immediately when T'Pol's finger pressed the bell, he appeared. Looking down the corridor to his left, and then his right – he saw the coast was clear and leaned over for a brief kiss. When their lips parted, the Vulcan could tell the man seemed nervous about something.
As they talked and made their way to the Mess Hall, Archer gazed at her a few times as if he had something important to say and then clamped his mouth shut. After going through this ritual a few times, he finally settled on a compliment.
"You look great," he whispered as they almost made their way in.
The Vulcan looked down at her clothes and thought he'd seen her in this outfit many times before. Nothing was really different about her appearance – she wore no more makeup than she typically did and hadn't fixed her hair in an unusual way. Suddenly, the Vulcan comprehended: the comment she'd made to the Bridge crew in the afternoon probably made it around to him, and he was endeavoring to (using the human phrase) 'butter her up.'
As they entered the cafeteria, they received more stares than they typically would've – news had already made it's way around the ship like wildfire now that both Hoshi and Phlox were free to discuss this romance. Before then, it'd been eyewitnesses who hadn't been sure they really saw anything or listeners who couldn't believe it (although they wanted to) anyway.
Meeting the eyes of a few under his command, Archer did something strange and completely out of character -- he wrapped his hand around hers to the satisfaction and delight of those watching them. Puffing out his chest and holding himself a marginally straighter, he led T'Pol into the Captain's Mess. As the curious eyes, now satisfied, went back to their dinners, only a pair remained watching him -- T'Pol's.
"That was unexpected," she whispered to him, causing him to smile.
Slipping into their seats, they ordered, chatted about a few work-related items, including now that Amanda was pregnant again who'd be able to watch daycare, and securing additional vaccinations for all the children aboard.
An assistant came to T'Pol's mind effortlessly – Phlox's oldest child Zara, who was 17. Already finished with school at an accelerated rate, the girl had already begun to study under the tutelage of her father about medicine. She was ready for the added responsibility.
"Would this give her enough time to continue her medical training?" Archer asked, concerned about what would happen to the crew if Phlox died.
"I believe so, although we should probably discuss this with Phlox and Amanda first."
He nodded, and then broached just one of the subjects that made him anxious: her son.
"Speaking of training the children … I've been watching the kids on Enterprise for some time … thinking about who might make a good captain."
The Vulcan listened intently.
"Lorian has some excellent qualities," said Archer.
T'Pol's fork clanked against her plate.
Archer forged ahead. "He has determination, drive, ambition, curiosity and an engineering mind. He's logical and not prone to emotion, but can rely on them to …."
"Captain?" she asked. "You believe Lorian would make a suitable captain? More so than your own son?"
He paused, collected his thoughts and continued, "I love Henry, but he's not a leader. He's going to be an excellent engineer someday, but not a captain. Seems to have my father's head for taking things apart and putting them back together." With amusement he said, "Must skip generations."
"Henry is only ten. It's impossible to determine his skills at this age in life."
Archer could only shake his head at the comment. "He's taken apart PADDs, scanners, the door bell, computer equipment and practically everything he can get his hands on. Seems like he already has the knack for figuring out how things work. I'd like to encourage it. Besides, T'Pol, I'm not getting any younger. Do you realize I'm approaching my sixtieth birthday?"
"What about Toru Hayes?" she asked.
"Seems like he has a natural talent for assessing tactical situations. He'd probably benefit by spending more time with Malcolm – learning the tactical station. Unfortunately, he doesn't have leadership skills either … or moxy."
"What about the other children?" she asked. "There are approximately …."
"I've thought about this for a while, T'Pol. Lorian has a natural curiosity about space, a background in science, tactical skills …. T'Pol, I'm not just saying this because he's your son … or Trip's."
"He's only 16."
"He's nearly 17," he countered.
An eyebrow crept skeptically onto her forehead.
Archer continued, "I'd like to start grouping the children and training the oldest ones, based on their natural interests and aptitudes. I'd like us to start preparing the children as part of their studies to take over Enterprise … in case something happens."
"The children have been learning various information about the ship since they could read."
"I'm talking about preparing them to run it … by themselves," he said. The seriousness of his voice led her to believe there was little she could do to dissuade him.
She sighed. "Jonathan, if anything happened to you, I would be able to remain in charge of this vessel."
He reached for her hand. "Of course you would. I'm thinking about sometime in the far future."
Maybe he was right. And it was almost human the way she had … pride … over hearing her son was a born leader … that the captain had chosen Lorian above all other children, including his own. Looking down at her salad, she speared a lettuce leaf and decided Jonathan was logical.
"Very well, would you like to work on it tomorrow?" she asked.
He smiled. "Sounds good. My Ready Room at 0900 hours?"
With that over with, he tucked into his food and gave her a wink – providing her an opportunity to discuss a few things.
"Travis asked if we were seeing each other," T'Pol mentioned.
Only momentarily letting his fork of mashed potatoes hang in the air uneaten, he recovered quickly, shoveling it into his mouth. He'd never get used to the way she sometimes dove headlong into a difficult conversation.
"Yeah, I've already heard. I mean look at the reception we got in the Mess Hall."
Watching the specter of a frown wiggle onto her face, he explained himself. "It's okay. Hell, I'm surprised we managed to keep it from everyone so long. You're okay with it, right?"
"Of course."
"You know, now that it's in the open …." Glancing up and then hastily back down, he swirled a pattern into his mashed potatoes and then peas. With some bashfulness, he continued, "… it makes things a little easier."
"Easier?"
Dragging his fork until it almost scraped his plate, he said, "Means we can move in together."
As she remained silent, he caught her eye and put his fork down.
"If you want," he said.
He was pretty sure she didn't bat an eye.
Quietly, he started his confession. "Things have been going so well, it seems like a reasonable step … a logical one."
Appealing to her logic, he thought, would sway her, but when she didn't respond, he decided to say more.
"You could spend the night without having to worry about leaving Lorian at home alone. Hoshi and Phlox wouldn't have to watch Elyssa and Henry so often."
A brow flicked at him.
"I mean … I'd want both you and Lorian to live with us."
She was still.
"If you want."
Her lips parted, but nothing came out.
"It'd be more like a family."
As she continued to stare, his smile waned.
"I'd love to wake up next to you every morning."
Nothing.
"T'Pol?"
Silence.
"I mean, you don't have to. Things are okay the way they are …. If you're worried about Lorian or …."
Suddenly she interrupted, "I would like to spend time alone with Henry and Elyssa before I give you an answer. Would that be possible?"
Taken aback, he jerked his head. "Sure."
"Good," she said, sipping at her tea thoughtfully.
Since she was going to discuss this with his children, he felt the need to explain he'd already prepped them, kinda asked their permission before he made the decision to ask her tonight.
"I've already talked with them about it," he said, furrowing his brows, hoping he'd done the right thing. When he saw T'Pol's neutral expression, he decided she was okay with it.
What he didn't tell her was, when he'd mentioned casually to Elyssa and Henry that T'Pol might be spending more time with them, Elyssa had screamed with joy preventing him from becoming more serious. Meanwhile, Henry had sported a large frown and withdrew from the conversation. The boy needed more time, but Jon knew his son would warm up to the Vulcan – after all, this woman had changed his diapers, read to him on occasion and helped looked after him all his life. The only thing that had really changed was that their father and T'Pol were sleeping together.
"And, perhaps in the near future, you could do the same for Lorian?" T'Pol asked.
Lorian. That was the hitch. The kid was always something special to Archer, in a way he couldn't explain. He didn't love the child with the same gusto or all-encompassing emotion he felt for his children, but it wasn't too far off the mark. All he knew was that, Godfather or no, next to his children, Lorian was probably the most precious kid on board to him.
Years of watching the boy toddle after him and spew question after question had completely faded over night – the first night Lorian discovered the personal logs where the captain's feelings about his first officer were spelled out. Jon wanted to do the right thing: talk with the boy, but figured the young Vulcan needed his space. Maybe he was like Henry that way … time and patience were required. Well, it was good that T'Pol was forcing things into the open; in truth he'd wanted to settle things with Lorian for some time.
"You want me to have a man-to-man talk with him?" he asked.
"I think it may be helpful."
"I'd love to."
If she could've smiled, she would've. Instead, she let her lips twitch giving him the closest smile she possibly could. Seeing the ridiculous motion of her lips, and knowing that was her way of showing gratitude, he reached over and kissed the palm of her hand.
Apparently, Vulcans were known to sometimes be in labor as long as a week and on rare occasions longer. The captain figured a human woman would be scared shitless by that fact, but T'Pol, as usual, took it in stride.
As Archer shifted in his uncomfortable metal chair, he mused about his rotund first officer. Glancing over, he noticed right away she was sweating profusely and gave an occasional wince as if to ward off a great deal amount of pain. Something told him this was it.
"T'Pol, let's get you to Sickbay."
"I want to complete these scans," she said. Stubbornly, she fixated on her station, gripping the sides of her scanner as if she could rip the metal from the console.
"Hoshi, notify Dr. Phlox that T'Pol is on her way. And … contact the proud father, will ya?" he said to his slightly pregnant communications officer.
"Yes, sir," she said, working her fingers across the console.
T'Pol remained at her station. "Captain, Vulcans are in labor sometimes as long as a week. I have plenty of …," she grimaced, "…time to collect scans."
"Oh, no you don't. I'm relieving you of command." Holding out his hand, he said, "Come on."
Reluctantly, she grabbed his hand, struggling to stand. As soon as she was steady, she placed one hand on her back and waddled toward the turbolift.
"Malcolm, you have the Bridge," Archer called out over his shoulder.
The entire Bridge crew wished the Vulcan good luck, to which T'Pol gave a troubled brow – almost discounting or discouraging "fortune." Fortune wasn't logical. With the hand that wasn't nearly glued to her back, she rubbed her bloated stomach and continued to breathe. As a flood of pain hit her, she stumbled a little and Archer reached out a hand to stable her.
"I can't believe you'd work through labor," he said. "When did it start?"
"Early this morning," she admitted.
"This morning?!" he said with astonishment. "Does Trip know?"
"I didn't want to worry him."
Archer shook his head. Unbelievable. This woman was utterly not to be believed. It was sweet that she believed the engineer's response to her labor would be concern. Well, undoubtedly there was some of that. But, overwhelmingly, Trip had bragged about this day as if the entire universe would change … and maybe it would for him.
As the turbolift doors opened, Archer walked with her into Sickbay letting her lean on him. Feeling the weight on his shoulder made him smirk; he'd been astounded that such a tiny woman could carry such massive girth. It could've been the long Vulcan gestation period– she'd been pregnant for one year and three months, or it could've been the late night trips he'd seen her make to the mess hall to eat gallons of rice pudding. Whatever it was, the woman was enormous – a five foot seven inch balloon with a tiny head, skinny arms and legs and long, narrow feet. In other words she looked preposterous … and adorable.
When T'Pol and Archer entered the medical facility, Phlox beamed tremendously. "Ahhh! This is very exciting!"
As T'Pol mumbled a grunt, the doctor whipped into action.
"Onto that biobed," instructed Phlox as he gathered some equipment.
In her condition, she couldn't get the momentum to push herself up and onto the platform. Wanting to laugh, but restraining himself, Archer awkwardly maneuvered his hands under her arms (and past her extended gut) and hoisted her onto the bed.
After doing so, he noticed she was drenched in sweat and her cheeks were turning a brownish-green. Shushing out air like a train, her lungs expanded in and out quickly as the captain gawked at her, waiting for some instruction on how to help. When the moment passed, he felt the need to say something.
"Need anything?" he asked, running his hand against her sweaty temple.
Suddenly, she grabbed at his hand and began to squeeze. Archer yelped in pain, wondering if his bones were being crushed when Phlox rescued him.
A-titter with excitement, the doctor ran a scanner over her. "Everything seems to be progressing nicely. But, your child is taking his … or her … time in reaching the birth canal."
T'Pol nodded helplessly, as she gritted her teeth. Again, Archer's hand succumbed to a vice grip.
"How far apart are your contractions?" Phlox asked.
"Roughly five minutes, although the sharpness of the pain has increased."
As if overjoyed to give more medical advice, he said, "Expect it to get worse."
At that note, Archer wrestled his hand free. "Maybe you can give her something for the pain?"
"No," T'Pol said. "Trip should be here. He can perform neuropressure. We have already practiced this technique."
Right. Trip. In the excitement of the moment, Archer had almost tricked himself into thinking he would sit with T'Pol until she brought her child into the world. With that, Trip burst through the doors -- grease smeared onto his cheek, hair standing akimbo, blue eyes wide with panic and an extended smile painted onto his lips.
"Now, honey, we'll get through this," Trip said, more to himself than anyone.
Archer stepped aside and let her husband rush to her side. Trip, as he should've, rebuked her for not telling him she was in labor that morning. He scolded her for trying to finish up the scans, pointing his finger and waving his arms wildly in the air and then after the display, wrapped his arms around her and kissed her.
As an afterthought, the man understandably patted Archer on the back. "Thanks. I owe you one."
Turning his attention back to the Vulcan, the soon-to-be-father began providing neuropressure, starting with her hand. That's when Archer decided he wasn't really needed any more.
"Let me know when he's born," said Jon with a smile. For some reason, he knew it was going to be a boy. Just plain intuition.
"You bet," said Trip.
After days of pacing around the Bridge, the Ready Room and his room, and stopping by Sickbay every few hours – he got the news. While entering a personal log about the nearest star cluster, the one T'Pol was scanning, Hoshi's voice burst over the intercom.
"It's a boy!" she exclaimed. And then realizing he may not have wanted the intrusion, she corrected herself, "Uhm, sir."
To answer her, he chuckled loudly, wrapped his knuckles on the desk and grinned.
"Thank you, Hoshi. Everything okay?"
"Yes, sir. Dr. Phlox said it was a textbook birth … for the first Vulcan/human baby born. He's 13 pounds and 9 ounces, 27 inches long with blond hair and blue eyes … and pointed ears."
Damn! "Nearly 14 pounds? How's T'Pol?"
"Apparently tired."
"Understandably. Trip?"
"Glowing. There were a few complaints from the gamma shift about Trip's yelling in the hallway."
Archer chortled. "Understood. Archer out."
Giddy, that's how he felt, almost as if he'd had the baby himself. Walking out onto the Bridge, he noticed his crew chatting about the size of the baby and more. Joyful, he listened to the conversation for a few moments before he realized he couldn't pace or sit still any longer. He wanted to see that child, but didn't want to be an imposition. Maybe he'd just walk by Sickbay and peek through the glass in the doors. That decision made, he told Hoshi to "mind the store" as he nodded for Malcolm to follow him into the turbolift.
Malcolm smiled broadly and quipped, "Whew, 13 pounds and 9 ounces. T'Pol gave birth to a bowling ball."
Archer and his armory officer immediately began to laugh and make (made?) their way toward Sickbay. As he peered through the glass, Archer could see Phlox hold something while talking with the engineer. Trip dabbed at his eyes and spoke with a grin plastered onto his face. Jon's heart thumped – he'd heard that the day your child is born is the most unforgettable. Trip looked like the epitome of that axiom.
Malcolm whispered, "He certainly looks pleased with himself."
Giving a silent laugh, Archer agreed. "As well he should."
At the sign of the two loitering in the hall, Trip waved them in. Malcolm was the first to pound his friend on the back, "Congratulations!"
Trip, still tears of bliss in his eyes, grinned wildly. "God that kid is beautiful."
Archer got his turn and drew his friend into a hug. "You're going to be a great dad."
As he hugged his friend, Archer saw T'Pol completely drained of color with sweat still pouring down her face.
Stepping back, the captain asked, "She okay?"
"Yeah, apparently she's in a light healing trance. She can interact with you, but she's kind of spacey."
"I don't want to bug her," said Archer.
Trip nudged him ahead, "Go on. She'd love to show off Lorian."
Archer thought, 'Lorian?'
As Trip filled Malcolm in on all the details, Archer took an unsteady step toward her and gave her a gentle smile. She was definitely pale, but she looked gorgeous. He placed his hand on hers and tightened his grip slightly.
"How ya feeling?"
"Fatigued," she replied, slowly.
Phlox brought over a large, clam baby and placed it into T'Pol's arms, raising her biobed up so she could nurse him. The doctor presented a creepy smile and said, "This is Lorian."
Archer looked down at the little creature. Damnit if he didn't look exactly like Trip, but with pointed ears. He gave a heartfelt sigh and whispered, "Hello."
"Would you like to hold him?" she asked.
He'd held very few babies, but something in him really wanted to hold this one.
"You sure it's okay?" he asked.
"Yes," she affirmed. Weakly she brought the child up as his hands rushed to scoop Lorian's neck and back.
As he brought the baby to his chest, he could see why people would want them. It didn't cry or gurgle, just strangely regarded the captain with wide blue eyes. Archer ran his long fingers against the boy's light blond hair and wiggled his ears without a peep from him.
"He's beautiful, T'Pol."
"I think so as well," she said.
"His name is Lorian?"
"Charles Lorian Tucker IV," she corrected.
He gave a small snort. The Tucker line would live on. What an interesting combination – dark blue eyes and copper-colored skin. Unlike human babies, this one wasn't wrinkled, didn't cry or even try to squirm. Phlox began explaining the medical wonders of the Vulcans – staying in the womb allowed for more advanced brain activity on birth, better digestion …. Tuning out all the details, Jon ran his fingers onto the child's cheeks and had the urge to baby talk him.
"I don't expect an answer today, but Trip and I have been discussing the role of godfather," said T'Pol. "We'd like you to be his, if you are willing."
"Me?" Archer asked.
"Yes," she said.
Without a second thought, or needing to think, he said, "Okay."
Suddenly, the baby gave a small whimper as T'Pol unsnapped the top of her gown.
"He's hungry," she said.
Archer bent down and gave Lorian back to his mother and she immediately pressed the tiny creature against her breast. For a moment, the world seemed to stand still. The captain watched her cradle the infant to her, gazing down on it, and his heart became full. This moment, more so than becoming captain, was about the most glorious he could ever imagine. Mother and son. Feeling himself tear up, he blinked the awe away and turned back to talk with Trip.
Archer recalled that moment as being possibly one of the most magical he'd experienced, up until that time. Of course it didn't surpass the birth of his own children. When Henry was born, he'd cried when he'd held his son in his arms, kissed Phlox (and pretty much anyone who stopped by to visit) and spoke with such pride in his voice when he introduced his friends and crewmen to his son. With Elyssa, he didn't cry – he smiled … a lot. Even their greeting was one of two old friends meeting – he rubbed her tiny nose with his oversized one and welcomed her into the world. It was something they did even to this day.
"I was just remembering when Lorian was born," he said. "He was so beautiful."
"I recall watching your eyes become glassy for a moment."
"I didn't think you'd noticed." His hand stroked hers. That was the thing about T'Pol; she always noticed.
Chapter 24
As promised, T'Pol came over two days later to talk with the Archer children. In perhaps one of her best moves, she decided to take the kids to the Mess Hall for ice cream. The children had a pension for sweets, something that their father tried to deny them as many times as he could … while occasionally caving in.
T'Pol led the two into the Mess Hall and pondered Lorian's choice of activities with Jonathan: boxing. She immediately thought the decision to follow through with this would be a bad idea. She wasn't sure whom she was more concerned for -- Archer had experience, but Lorian had youth and an "ax to grind." Worse, the two were alike; they would undoubtedly be competitive to see exactly who was the stronger, fitter man. That's something she always admired about her late husband: the ability to give in. Neither Lorian nor Jonathan would be likely to do so.
'At least, if things get out of hand, they would fight it out of their system,' she thought.
Trying to push that aside, she felt a tiny hand grab hers and peered down at Elyssa. The pig-tailed girl had already saved up millions of questions to ask and was looking for the opportunity to unleash them. The little girl was imaginative and bright, and it was clear that Archer encouraged her inquisitiveness, rather than discourage it. If that was his parenting choice, then she was obliged to honor it.
"Why are you taking us and Daddy taking Lorian?" the little girl asked.
"Actually, that's what I wish to talk with you about. Your father and I care about each other deeply."
Henry rolled his eyes as the woman noticed his skepticism. "Although I get to spend time with you, it's rarely just us. I thought perhaps we could get to know each other. For example, I'd like to give you special permission to call me by my first name, T'Pol."
"Does Yoshiko get to call you T'Plol?" she asked.
"T'Pol," the Vulcan said. "And no. You two are special."
"Why, because you and Dad are girlfriend and boyfriend?" Henry asked.
"Yes," T'Pol said.
As they passed several of the trays, Henry seemed drawn to the equipment instead of the food. The boy was skinny, but already tall for his age.
Noticing his gaze, she said, "Your father said you enjoy dismantling equipment."
He agreed. "I like to see how things work. Dad said I've got a talent for it, just like my grandpa."
"I wish I'd known your father's father, but I worked with someone for many years who did -- Ambassador Soval."
Henry furrowed his brow. "I think Dad's mentioned him."
"Can we have ice cream now?" asked Elyssa, looking at the display cases with eagerness.
T'Pol saw that Henry was most likely more interested in discussing his grandpa's skills and his own, but his little sister was desperately trying to eye some of the desserts in the tray cases. The Vulcan was amused, even if she didn't show it, watching Elyssa propel herself into the air attempting to see the food.
"Of course. Henry can probably reach what he wants. May I pick you up Elyssa, or do you have a dessert in mind?"
She beamed. "Pick me up, please!"
Henry deliberated over the decision for a few moments eying a sundae and an ice cream cake. Finally, with purpose, he reached in and retrieved the sundae. Elyssa was more impulsive. With T'Pol precariously holding her, she immediately slid open one of the food doors and pulled out a piece of chocolate cake with ice cream.
"Daddy doesn't let us have sweets very much. He doesn't want our teeth to rot. And, he said that Phlox isn't a very good dentist. Although Daddy says Phlox is a good doctor. Last time I went to Dr. Phlox I had two cavities. Wanna see?" she asked, opening her mouth.
T'Pol raised her eyebrows and led the kids to a table, after gathering napkins and utensils. Henry slowly and methodically ate as Elyssa threatened to swallow her snack whole.
"Perhaps you should slow down," T'Pol cautioned Elyssa.
The little girl frowned. "Yes, T'Pol."
"So, why are you Dad's girlfriend?" asked Henry.
"He cares for me. He's attracted to me. And I care for and am attracted to your father."
"Were you always?"
"No, not always. But, your father has always been … special to me. Perhaps he's only more … special now."
"Are you moving in with us?" the boy asked.
"Your father and I have discussed it. Would it bother you if we did?"
"Dunno," Henry mumbled.
"I wouldn't mind!" Elyssa said, leaving her dessert long enough to throw in her opinion. Cake and ice cream had already splattered on her pink overalls and stuck to her lip and chin. A clean forearm managed to rub most of it off effectively.
T'Pol furrowed her brow and pushed the napkin toward the youngster. Following her prompt, the girl wrapped her grubby hands around it and used it to wipe the few crumbs that remained from her mouth.
"If you move in with us, will Lorian move in too?" Henry asked.
"Yes. If I live in your domicile, so will my son. How do you feel about that?"
Henry smiled. "I like him."
Elyssa frowned. "I wish you had a daughter."
"Henry, if you're uncomfortable about your father and I, now is the time to express it. Both of us want what's best for you."
"I wish Dad had let more time pass," the boy confessed.
"What would be an appropriate amount of time?"
Henry shrugged.
"Five years for humans is a long time," she said. "Five years for Ikarrans is longer."
"Why did he need you? He had us?" he asked.
"I think he needed adult companionship. And, although you father cares for you very much, he needs someone to share some of his problems with. So, he turned to me."
"I think of you as Mrs. Tucker," Henry said.
T'Pol afforded herself the rare opportunity to touch the young man. Placing her arm around his shoulder, as she'd seen his father do many times before, she talked with him about how many times their lives had intersected.
"I understand your confusion. I've known both of you all your lives. Henry, I was the first person, other than your parents, to hold you."
Henry gave a lopsided smile, looking very much like his father.
"You were very small at birth, as most Ikarrans are. You hadn't even opened your eyes, but you were very pleasing and gentle. You had a head full of dark hair …."
The boy had seen pictures, but enjoyed the first hand account.
"It fell out within the first three weeks of your birth, and tiny blonde hairs grew instead. I remember when you were born, your father cried." With some difficult suddenly swallowing, she said, "I've seen your father cry only twice – your birth and your mother's death."
It was a peculiar day when Henry was born. Archer was on the Bridge pacing nervously, striding across the back near the turbolift, shuffling his feet near his chair and then walking the length in front of the armory and then science stations.
T'Pol felt herself sigh. Esilia should've entered labor last week, and the captain had been like this ever since. Phlox wanted to wait as long as possible until he induced labor, which he was on the verge of doing. According to Esilia, she had long-passed uncomfortable and was bordering on just plain miserable.
"Captain, may I see you in your Ready Room?" she asked.
His head whipped around as if stunned. "Huh?"
Her eyes ventured toward the Ready Room.
"Oh, sure. Malcolm, you have the Bridge."
Lt. Reed nodded, and silently threw T'Pol a look of thanks. Apparently the pacing had gotten on everyone's nerves.
After the two entered the sanctum of his inner room and Archer checked his watch, worriedly, T'Pol decided to speak to the distracted man.
"Perhaps it's best you take some time off, until you know Esilia's status," she suggested.
"No, no … I'm fine," he said.
His boots clapped against the deck plating of his Ready Room, as he dodged under beams he'd been stooping under since he'd been given Enterprise.
"Jonathan, may I be blunt?" she asked, rather humanly.
He stopped in his tracks. "Of course."
"Your pacing and anxiety is affecting the crew. You're distracted … rather you've been distracted for nearly a week. I know the birth of your first child is weighing on you and you are … eager for its birth."
Like a boy who'd been scolded and then told something exciting, he focused in on the exhilarating tidbit and grinned. "God, eager is an understatement."
Before she could further condemn him, he turned to her and learned on his desk. "Was it this thrilling for you?"
She thought back to when she had been pregnant with Lorian. It was logical she would give birth. After all, it seemed like the natural conclusion to having sex. Perhaps she'd felt most enthused when after trying unsuccessfully for a year, she'd heard she was pregnant. Yes she'd felt enthusiasm. But she hadn't been as distracted as Jonathan was … or as impatient.
"The announcement that I was pregnant was stimulating. However, I was not anxious at the time of his birth."
Archer furrowed his brows for a second.
She continued, "Dr. Phlox is an excellent physician. I'm sure you have nothing to be concerned about."
Archer heaved a mild laugh. "No, I'm not nervous … well … maybe a little. I'm … impatient. I'm ready to see him or her." He smiled. "Were you born on time?"
"Pardon me?"
"I was born about a week late. My dad said he and my mother attended a Shakespeare festival – all of the Henry plays – walking around and sitting in the afternoon sun, hoping I'd speed it up a little."
T'Pol tipped her eyebrow. "Was it successful?"
"Born nearly 8 hours after the last play," he said with a smile.
T'Pol didn't recall being told anything about her birth. It certainly wasn't anything out of the ordinary or anything special; people gave birth all of the time. But, humans were sentimental creatures who found the most unremarkable things fascinating. As she opened her mouth to recount this was one of the many reasons she chose to stay aboard Enterprise, a communication broke through.
"She's in labor!" Hoshi barked over the comm.
Springing into action, Archer began to sprint out the door, nearly clocking himself on a beam. As he darted out of his Ready Room, he called out, "This is it!"
Hoshi had just enough time to say, "Good luck" before he stepped into the turbolift and vanished.
T'Pol peaked an eyebrow at the closed turbolift door, deciding she'd seen the captain exhibit illogical behavior before, but not in a long time. Taking the captain's chair, she tranquilly perched on the edge and thought about the child Esilia would bring into the world. Mutely, she wished the child to have the captain's strength of character and nobility, but hoped the offspring would have more patience.
Suddenly minutes seemingly turned to hours, and reluctantly, T'Pol found herself walking along the plating in front of her station and then crossing back over her footsteps. Turning thoughtfully as she noted the time, she wondered why no one from Sickbay had contacted the Bridge by now. With her thumb hanging over the comm button to see if her husband knew any more information, Hoshi looked up, startled. Gripping the device already plunged into her ear, she announced Archer's son.
"Henry Naran Archer weighs 6 pounds and 2 ounces," Hoshi said, smiling. After giggling a bit, she said, "The mother is doing well, and the father, according to Dr. Phlox, is beside himself."
T'Pol uncharacteristically drummed her fingers along her station trying to decide whether she should finish out her shift and then see their child, or see Henry now. Restraining her impulsiveness, she decided to sit in the captain's chair and wait. It was only another three hours.
One hour and 45 minutes later, T'Pol left her chair.
"I have something to attend to. Malcolm, you have the Bridge," she said and then strolled off into the turbolift. For a fleeting moment, she wondered if Trip had already come and gone. If she knew her husband, he would've already been there, talked with the parents, held the baby and been back in Engineering.
As she walked into Sickbay, she saw Archer hovering over his son's bed, watching him sleep. Esilia, still in the biobed, was catching a few winks herself. Regretting her decision she stopped after entering the facility and glanced back toward the door. Preparing to leave, she heard a whisper.
"Come here," Archer said.
As she was about to decline, he waved her over emphatically. T'Pol took a few tiny steps forward, then changed her stride with more confidence as the father routed his attention back to his boy.
A very careful hand touched the crown of Henry's head. "This is my son."
T'Pol peaked into the crib. The child was small, certainly skinnier and shorter than Vulcan babies. A tiny ridge dotted his forehead, a slight gurgle passed through his esophagus every time he breathed and his hair was dark … much like Jonathan's had been at one time, before being speckled with gray. For the most part, the child looked like Esilia – nose, forehead and mouth, but the chin was his father's. Despite his infancy, she could see the smallest of dimples in it and hypothesized it would only increase as the boy grew. The baby's eyes were closed, preventing her from viewing the color.
Wanting to pick him up, but not wanting to wake him, she touched the boy's cheek gently and then stared up at the captain. A strange half-smile worked its way onto his face and a few tears left his eyes. As if embarrassed of his emotions, he quickly shooed them away with a hand.
"Sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me," he said. But, the Vulcan knew exactly what was wrong: joy.
Quietly, T'Pol said, "Trip had the same reaction when Lorian was born."
"Being a captain, seeing the first dark matter ever recorded … nothing … nothing holds a candle to this moment," he said, as if trying to figure out why. "I just …," he said, clearing his throat.
"Congratulations," T'Pol whispered, blinking quickly and watching her commander.
As the baby kicked its leg signaling it was awake, Archer picked his son up carefully and without really any explanation kissed his forehead.
"Want to hold him?"
Scooping the baby, she cradled him in her arms. The Vulcan traced a finger over the ridge of Henry's head and said, "Very becoming."
"You're the first non-Archer to hold him," Archer said with a smile.
"I would've thought Trip …."
Archer grinned, and nodded his head to his new infant. "He didn't want to wake him."
T'Pol sighed slightly, staring down at the newborn, and felt honored.
Henry ducked his head into his hand. It was embarrassing and wonderful to hear this story; neither parent had told him about his birth in the same way T'Pol just did. The excitement, drama and eagerness was there, but told by a third party it seemed sweeter and more true.
"Your father tells an amusing story about the time your mother cried when she thought you'd taken ill with a disease."
Henry smiled. He'd heard that one before, but always enjoyed hearing it again. It was a story that was tender and funny.
"That's when Henry lost his first tooth," Esilia chimed in.
"What you may not know about this story," T'Pol said, "is that your father has managed to collect all your teeth, locks of hair, recordings of your first words, pictures and various other data."
"Dad?" Henry asked. He hadn't shown him any of these things.
Elyssa frowned, "Does the Tooth Fairy give these things to Daddy?"
T'Pol was a bit stuck. It was her policy never to lie to children. She insisted Lorian never grow up with fantasies about Santa Claus, Easter bunnies or Tooth Fairies much to Trip's chagrin. The idea, she'd determined, was preposterous. Allowing Lorian to celebrate these holidays was their compromise, that and the promise they would exchange presents, perform Easter egg hunts and at least personally reward Lorian for losing teeth.
But, it appeared the Archers had raised their children differently. Elyssa in particular was given to flights of fancy, which was encouraged. Waiting for a response, Henry decided to speak up.
"Yes," he said. "The Tooth Fairy gives them to Dad."
It was then T'Pol realized without giving his approval, he was at least starting to warm up to the idea of his father dating her. This had been more progress than the two had made during the three months of dating.
T'Pol's arm left his shoulder. "Perhaps we can convince your father to let you see these things."
Elyssa nodded violently and scooted her chair next to T'Pol, placing her little blonde head against the Vulcan's arm.
"Am I going to have a little sister?" Elyssa asked.
"No. Neither your father nor I want additional children. We're happy with the ones we have."
Elyssa stuck out her lip as if to pout. T'Pol pointedly ignored it and turned to Henry.
"I will never be a replacement for your mother. However, I hope one day you can call me your friend."
The boy blinked carefully back and smiled.
Elyssa was already sold on the idea. "If you move in with us, does this mean you'll take us out for ice cream?"
Evenly, but with enjoyment invading her voice, she said, "I think that can be arranged."
"When do you move in?" Henry asked.
"If you two are amenable to the idea … and Lorian is as well, maybe as early as a month."
"Huh," Henry said, taking a bite of his sundae, which had mostly melted. The odd thing was: sitting eating ice cream with her, she seemed very affectionate. In fact, there was always something pleasant about the woman. She wasn't given to hysterics or even prone to emotions (sometimes to Lorian's disappointment), but in a way, she seemed very caring. This wasn't the first time she'd had ice cream with him, nor was it the first time she'd ever talked with him. But, today marked a milestone – it was the first time he was permitted to call her T'Pol, it was the first time she'd hugged him to her (although it was subtle – just like she was) and it was the first time in three months he understood why she was his dad's girlfriend.
T'Pol took a deep breath and continued to chat to the kids about school, life and trivial matters, wondering how Jonathan was faring.
TBC