Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. I make no money off of this.

Author's note: I know some of you out there are still going to hate me… but that's your opinion, not mine. As I noted in another story: 'Crazy isn't hearing voices inside your head, crazy is listening to the ones outside who say that you're what's wrong with the universe.' Frankly, folks, I'm not willing to believe I'm crazy. I respect your opinions… and I respect your right to have them. That doesn't mean I have to make them mine. Try to keep in mind… it's just a story… it's not a blueprint for the operation of the universe. It's really shouldn't be that vital to your lives.

Chapter 3: The Arrangement

Jon has a couch that changes into a bed, so Daddy and I get into a fight over who is going to sleep on the cushions on the floor. I win, because I'm smaller and have less back problems.

"You really should have let your Dad have the floor, Ivy." Jon watches our fight, slightly amused. "I don't think it would have been a hardship. After all, we are talking about the guy who spent two years sleeping in a sleeping bag on his own couch just so he wouldn't have to make his bed in the morning."

Daddy goes red in the ears, like he does when he's embarrassed. "Jon…"

"Well, you did." Jon laughs.

"It was efficient." Daddy seems to be concentrating very hard on arranging a pillow.

Jon laughs some more. "Face it, Trip: you were a slob."

Daddy picks up the pillow and throws it at Jon. "Stop maligning me in front of my daughter."

Jon catches the pillow and grins. "I'm sorry. Ivy, your father was a complete, total and utter slob.

Daddy looks like he's about to say something, then stops. "Time for bed, punk. You've got to be exhausted."

I am tired, so I don't argue. I ask our ritual question, and this time he answers.

"Absolutely, punkin." He gives me my goodnight kiss and I close my eyes.

They leave the room and close the door, and I know they're having another Conversation. I know I shouldn't eavesdrop, but I get worried when people think there's something they need to hide from me. And I've been really worried about my daddy, lately.

"You're really crazy about her, aren't you?" They've moved into the living room, so all I need to do is open the door, and I can hear them.

"Insane," Daddy admits. "She's a great kid, Jon."

"And Lorien?" There's a little something extra in the question… like there's something special about Lorien.

"Let's just say I can see a future where he'd be the type of person to shoot me." Daddy sighs. "What's so frustrating is that Vulcans keep going on about how tolerant they are… that whole 'Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations' crap… but they're just as prejudiced as anybody else. T'Pol never bothered to learn sign language, you know that? And she's really got a problem with Ivy's emotionalism…"

"Well, it is somewhat understandable, Trip. T'Pol had some rough spots with that herself…"

"I know about the Trellium, Jon." Daddy sounds like it's something he's heard about a million times before.

Jon doesn't say anything… at least not anything I can hear.

"What is it, Jon? There's something you're not telling me…"

Jon sighs. "You've spent enough time there, Trip. Have you ever heard of Panar Syndrome?"

I gasp. Panar Syndrome is supposed to be one of the worst things that can happen to a Vulcan – most Vulcans who have it are shunned. At the same time I'm angry – Mother was mad at Daddy because he didn't say there was mutism in his family, but she clearly didn't tell him about Panar Syndrome in hers.

"I thought that only struck past the age of…" Daddy stops, suddenly. "That would explain a lot, though, Jon. She's been paranoid about the kids being out of place… not acting Vulcan."

"And how does…" Jon sounds lost.

"You were an only child from a small family, Jon. Trust me… when there's a trouble kid… a black sheep… first thing people look at is the parents. If T'Pol's got Panar… the last thing she's going to want is anybody to know about it. Hell, Jon, she wouldn't even tell me… and I married her, for Chrissakes." Daddy groans. "But still… it's no excuse for how she's been to Ivy. I mean Ivy gets emotional, sure… but all you can say about that is that she's well named. Maybe that's it… I don't know."

"You think T'Pol has problems with Ivy because Ivy's so much like you?" Jon's voice changes and becomes more gentle.

"Maybe… I think T'Pol always knew that she'd never have all of me… maybe the way Ivy and I bonded made it worse. But she's a great kid, Jon." Daddy sighs. "Maybe that's the trouble with Lorien, too. He's half mine as well… I can't grant Ivy the right to emotions and not to him. It's probably basic sibling rivalry. I've spent a lot of time with Ivy… what with the sign language and all… he probably felt jealous about that. Which is probably why he went to his mother for support… God, we're a screwed up family, Jon." Daddy sounds like he's crying again. "I always said that when I was a Dad I wouldn't play favourites… I know what that feels like… and here I am…"

"Shh." Their voices get quieter, so I have to creep closer. They're sitting at an angle where I can see them, but they can't see me. Jon has his arm around Daddy, and Daddy's head is on Jon's shoulder. "What were you supposed to do, Trip? Ignore Ivy's special needs?"

Daddy straightens up. He always gets mad when people imply I'm somehow less than capable. "She's not handicapped, Jon."

"I didn't say that. God, you're a mother hen. But most parents don't have to go learning a new language just so they can communicate with their child. And I'm assuming that you tried to teach Lorien…" Jon keeps his voice low and level.

"I didn't have to learn it, Jon. And Lorien learned with Ivy –up until he was five… then he stopped wanting to learn. He's still quite fluent… he just won't use it, because he says there's no need. He claims that since Ivy is capable of hearing him, then logically verbalisation is far more effective, because it includes more people and isn't likely to lead to long term health problems." I never knew that Lorien could speak… I guess it's because between five and eight you forget things, especially when they never happen.

"Health problems?" Jon sounds surprised. "What kind of…"

"Long term use of sign language can lead to wrist problems." Daddy laughs sadly. "You want to know what's really strange? T'Pol wanted to go with a technical solution… there are implants that can pick up on nervous system and muscle data and synthesise vocalisation… but it seemed like such an invasive solution for a little kid. I'm the engineer… and I'm the one who insisted on low-tech."

"You never told me you knew sign-language."

"I didn't? My cousin is mute… most of the family knows at least a bit of sign. How do you think I got past the language requirement at the Academy? I convinced them to let me turn my oral exam into a visual… they actually had to go hunt down a translator. When Hoshi found out… she hounded me for months to teach her. I thought you knew."

Jon shakes his head. "No, actually, I didn't. And here I thought you had no secrets from me."

"I didn't even realise I was keeping it a secret. I guess maybe because I grew up with it I never thought of it as that big of a deal. It was just something I knew how to do." He gets sad again. "But when she found out… T'Pol acted like it was a big deal… like I'd been keeping some big shameful secret from her. Kellie's still one of my favourite cousins – even if I do hate the bastard she married – I've never thought it strange that she couldn't vocalise… it was just Kellie. Then again, our family's never been one to pick things apart logically… I was more concerned with her tendency to kick my ass in the annual Tucker Flag Football game than with the fact she was silent. Hell, it gave her an advantage at football, because we couldn't eavesdrop on the huddle."

"Yeah, that sounds like you," Jon mutters. "But you can't take all the blame, Trip."

"Yeah I can. It was my choice to get involved in the first place. It split us up… took T'Pol in a direction she probably shouldn't have gone…"

"Would you really give up Ivy?"

I press my fingers to my lips, even though I can't make any noise. Daddy doesn't answer.

"I didn't think so, Trip. Watching the two of you… I honestly don't think I've seen a better fit. You're a good father, Trip… and I can tell she loves you. She's so worried about you being happy… she was willing to leave you here and go back home if I had any problems with her."

"No, she's not, Jon. The reason she's with me is that she was running away from home." Daddy's more upset now – and it must be my fault. I wish Jon hadn't told him that, but I never told Jon it was a secret, either. "She's stubborn, Jon…"

"I noticed."

"… and it was either bring her with me, or have her end up God knows where. And I've got enough deaths on my conscience… I don't need to hear I've got my kid's as well."

Jon runs his hand along Daddy's shoulder. "I know. You've always been so good at taking the blame for everything, haven't you? It took me a long time to see it… when I did, I thought it was too late. But let me tell you a few things you did not do: You did not give T'Pol Panar Syndrome… you did not create the Vulcan prejudice against it… or displays of emotion. You did give Ivy love and support… and from the looks of things, a hell of a lot of self-confidence as well. And if Lorien's like I remember… and like you say… I'm not surprised you bonded more closely with Ivy. You're human, Trip – you're very human. You let your emotions hijack you sometimes… and don't give me a lecture about how the amygdyla can shut down the rest of the brain, I've heard that one before. But as humans… we respond better to those who show us emotion in return. I remember overhearing an argument between T'Pol and Hoshi once… Hoshi claimed that emotions were a human method of communication."

"It's just… It's so hard. I was so close to breaking, Jon… I kept holding things in so as not to upset the kids, but she saw it anyway. I mean you think I'm good at taking blame? She figured that if she left…" Daddy's voice trails off, and he's shaking. "I mean I love 'em both, Jon, but she's always been the one to worry about me. And maybe you're right, maybe I did respond to that more. I shouldn't have – I know – but… maybe she'd have been better off if I didn't indulge her so much… she might have fit in better…"

"Or maybe she'd have more emotional problems, Trip. Don't forget… she is half human – and that's your half. You feel things very intensely, and some of that is supposed to be more Nature than Nurture."

"Where the hell did you learn all that?" Daddy's now the one who sounds lost.

The back of Jonathan's neck turns red. "Someone I met… a neurologist. It lasted about two weeks."

"Oh, God, Jon, I'm sorry." Daddy starts to cry harder. "I was so… so desperate to be a Dad…"

"I know… I know. Sometimes I think it's what you were put in this world to do. I've seen you with kids, Trip – you've got real talent there. Hell, you're probably a better parent than you are an Engineer."

"Hardly. I mean, I've seriously fucked things up, Jon. And now, I'm here… I'm imposing on you… How can I help guide someone else's life when I can't even handle my own?"

"You're not an imposition, Trip. It's not like I don't have enough space here… and you need somewhere to be. You guys can stay here as long as you need to." Jon gets very quiet for a moment. "T'Pol does know that you have her, doesn't she? You won't get charged…"

"God, I hope not. I told her where we were going… you'd think she'd have sent somebody to meet us… take Ivy back if she was that upset… I think though… I think all of us just got tired of fighting. Ivy's like me… maybe T'Pol's just found it less complicated. It's probably easier on both of 'em without me there. As for Ivy… like I said, Jon, she's like me. I swear, she curses more than I do, and that's one hell of a trick."

I can't help but feel a little bit proud of this… because I know Daddy has a bit of pride in it too.

"At eight? That's kind of scary, Trip."

"She's smarter than her old man too… I wish I had half her brains, Jon. She gets that from her mother… I can't think of where else."

"You're no slouch in the brains department yourself, Trip." Jon's right, but Daddy always felt inadequate back on Vulcan – he'd never say it to us, but I could see it in his face, especially when he'd help us with our homework, and I'd hear him say things to Mother sometimes.

"You wouldn't believe the academic load, Jon. They're doing stuff at eight that here we don't tackle 'til about sixteen. But Ivy's had trouble at school…"

"Because of…"

"No, Jon, not the language barrier." Daddy interrupts, even though he always tells me it's not polite. "She likes to do things her own way… and she's got a temper, which does not sit well with her classmates or her teachers."

"Well, I remember you used to ruffle a few feathers back at the Academy. Opening your mouth before your brain caught up or shooting off on a tangent during one of your marathon work sessions… what's your record? Six straight shifts?"

"Forrest told you, huh? Yeah, Jeffries complained about that one… but they were less concerned with technique than results. Vulcans… they're like those teachers who always told you to show all your work."

"I never had any problem with them," Jon says.

"Asshole. I guess it's just… we had a lot of parent-teacher conferences and most of them were about Ivy – not doing things like she was supposed to, talking back, getting into fights – T'Pol found it… difficult dealing with a rebel… the more you push Ivy, the more she fights back."

"Daddy's girl," Jon comments.

"You betcha. It's funny… she looks like T'Pol and acts like me, but with Lorien it's the other way around. He looks like my Dad – which I noted the last time – but he's got his mother's temperament. But that's how I knew Ivy was serious, Jon." He shifts slightly and Jon looks down. I know they're looking at the scar on Daddy's wrist – the one he says he got from surgery for too many mis-thrown passes. In his darker moods he calls it his 'stigmata wound – the curse of the deeply religious.' I've never understood that, because Daddy's not religious at all.

"Your accident." Jon says 'accident' like he believes it as much as I do the surgery story. Lorien says it's possible, but Lorien doesn't know anything about football. Most quarterbacks need shoulder surgery before they need wrist surgery… and if they do need wrist surgery, it doesn't leave that big of scars.

"Remember when it happened? The day my dad came out for a surprise visit and caught the two of us coming out of the shower?"

Jon nods. "I remember he wasn't very happy."

"No." The way Daddy says it, I know 'wasn't very happy' is a serious understatement. "Well, you'll also recall that you weren't invited to dinner. His view was that it was all your fault."

"You have got to be…"

"I'm from North Florida, Jon, not the Keys. It's Deep South… 'Deliverance' territory. People are still marryin' their cousins and chasin' their sisters." Daddy's drawl gets thicker, like it always does when he's bitter. "We still haven't caught up to the rest of the world on things, yet. They tried to have one of those 'Gay and Lesbian Support' groups at my school… a couple of kids showed up to the first and only meeting. Two days later one of them hung himself and another ended up in the ICU nearly beaten to death. You learn to keep your head down and your mouth shut, real fast. I lived so deep in the closet I had names for all the hangers. 'Specially when my dad hit his 'Fundamentalist' kick."

He sighs. "He was gonna kidnap me and drag me back home… save my soul. I told him you had nothing to do with it, and he said…" Daddy's voice catches, "… he said he didn't raise a faggot for a son. I told him it had nothing to do with that, either… eventually it got to the point where I picked up my steak knife and said that since I was going to Hell anyway, I might as well just kill myself right then and save him the embarrassment of anyone else finding out. He said I didn't have the guts." He pauses, "Did you know that most slashing suicides have several wounds? Hesitation cuts while workin' up the courage to do it right? Bet your neurologist buddy never told you that. I didn't hesitate, Jon… I drove that knife through my wrist so hard that it stuck into the table. I mighta died right there in that restaurant, 'cept two tables over was a couple of paramedics."

Suddenly I hate my grandfather, even though I've never met him.

"Well, that explains your weekly disappearing act," Jon says, his voice going very flat again. "Psychologist?"

"Psychiatrist. I got drugs. Fortunately the privacy laws prevented Starfleet from finding out why I was seeing Dr. Lewis… or they'd never have let me ship out. The point is, Jon… If I know I don't bluff on that point, how can I assume Ivy would? 'Specially not when it's what I had planned for myself."

"In other words, you weren't just leaving." Jon's voice becomes flat.

I'm really scared now. What if I hadn't decided to leave? What if I'd let Daddy talk me out of it? Would he have actually killed himself?

"I… I love 'em, Jon. They're my kids, they're more important to me than life itself. I… I didn't figure I'd make it without them… but I'd do more damage if I stuck around. I am the biggest screw-up in the universe, Jon."

"What was the name of that psychiatrist again? You're human, Trip. Families break up every day… it's not pretty, but it's survivable. You could have gone for joint custody…"

"On Vulcan? The courts would've granted automatic custody to T'Pol. Not because she's the mother… they don't really consider that… but because she's the Vulcan parent, and you know they consider themselves to be more advanced than us."

"So…"

"My little girl saved my life, Jon. Hell, maybe T'Pol's right… maybe there are screwed up genetics in my family, she just identified the wrong ones."

"Well… you're starting to sound like you're badly in need of some sleep – yes, I do remember what that sounds like. You and Ivy can stay here… like I said, I've got the space and you certainly need somewhere… I'll see if I can contact T'Pol in the morning… she is Ivy's mother and she does have a say… and we'll take it from there." Jon takes his arm away from Daddy's shoulder and goes to stand up.

"Thanks, Jon. I know it's more than I have any right to ask for." I creep back down the hall, using Daddy's voice to cover the sound of my movements. I don't want to be caught out here when I'm supposed to be asleep.

"Yes, it is. But I'm not turning a kid out on the streets, either." I hear the couch springs creaking as Jon stands.

I'm in bed with my eyes closed when Daddy comes in. I want to go to him and hug him and tell him it will be okay… but it's probably better if I let him keep his secrets.