What Price Brotherhood?
By Lieuten Keen
Disclaimer: I don't own them. I just needed to fix the finale.
Author's Note: A big hearty thank you to those of you that reviewed. I hope that you like it.
Follow the white light.
Chapter 4:
There was commotion in Sickbay. Phlox and the medical staff worked quickly, slinging Archer's body onto a gurney. The captain's chest barely moved up and down, his skin covered in burns over most of his body. If it weren't for the patch on his arm, Trip couldn't have known which crewmember it was lying on that bed.
"You're going to be all right!" he shouted, holding his friend's hand, ignoring the pain in his head and his jaw from the blows that knocked him unconscious for a few precious seconds. "Just hang in there! Stay with me!" The captain's hand was clammy and unusually hard. Trip chalked that up to the extensive charring of the human body before him.
Lights and whistles went off. Phlox called for a move to the hyperbaric chamber. Trip was pushed to the side. As the captain was slid inside the narrow tube, his hand raised once and held in the air. One final wave before the female worker with the scar on her face pushed the man into the chamber. Trip feared it was the last time he would see Jonathan alive.
Three days later, Trip stood restlessly in the green room just outside the new auditorium at Starfleet Headquarters, while T'Pol wrestled with the overlarge buttons on his dress uniform.
"Stand still," she rolled her eyes. It was the most irritation she would allow herself to show. Her grief at losing her captain had brought all her emotions to the surface and at the moment, she was just as nervous as the newly promoted Captain Tucker.
"If you had taken the time to write your speech yesterday, you would have had the time to memorize it," she reminded him gently as he thwarted her efforts by trying to read his datapad.
Trip sighed shakily. "This is his speech," he told her. "I found it on a data disk he left in the mess. I just had to rewrite the opening."
His hands stopped her restless fussing. Brown eyes looked up into blue.
"Captain Archer is the reason so many people are here today," he reminded her. "Do you think it's okay that I'm giving the speech that he should saying? I mean, you're a captain too, now? Maybe you should give the speech." He looked at the pretty Vulcan hopefully.
"Starfleet is a human organization. It is appropriate that a human captain provide the speech," she intoned quietly. She had just received transfer orders. She would take command of the Molcrum, a Vulcan science vessel, now that her relationship with Captain Tucker made it impossible for her to remain on his ship, under his chain of authority.
From the couch on the other side of the bright room, the Denobulan offered words of comfort. "You served with Captain Archer for many years. You stood at his side and followed his orders. He actively sought your friendship and counsel. Neither of you would be present here today without the other." Phlox's cheerful demeanor set Trip's nerves on edge, but the doctor meant well.
"There is nobody else that Archer would prefer to stand in his stead today," T'Pol assured him.
"He'd prob'ly be happy that I'm doing it instead of him," Trip admitted ruefully. Outside the thunderous applause was taking hold and echoing through the small room.
"I guess it's time to go," Trip sighed heavily. He willed his hands to stop shaking. "Are you going out there?" he asked the Vulcan.
"I will remain here," she told him. He found he was relieved. The idea of trying to talk to all those people while being hyper-aware of one pair of brown eyes had been tying his stomach in knots. She took his hands before he left and pressed her thumbs against several nerve endings in his palms. Drawing a deep breath like she'd taught him, Trip found that his nerves were suddenly gone and that he could breathe much easier.
"Thanks," he replied gratefully. "For everything," he added. "I couldn't have done this without you."
"I am sure that Captain Archer would have said the same thing about you," T'Pol answered.
Trip strode purposefully up the red carpet and down the ramp to the podium.
The long list of formal greetings finally over with, Captain Charles Tucker III stood at the podium and looked out at all the eyes that watched him.
"I stand here today in the shadow of a great man," he began uncertainly. "Without his tireless efforts for peace, none of us would be here today." Due to the solemnity of the occasion, Trip's voice was low and soft and held none of its usual drawl. "He was always looking to the future to bring good things. He believed that the galaxy was full of friends we hadn't met yet. He took to heart the words spoken by Zephraim Cochrane, that we should go boldly forward to explore new worlds and new civilizations." Trip's voice caught slightly in his throat. "He always kept hope alive for a better and brighter future."
"That man is Jonathan Archer," Trip spoke quietly. "He sacrificed so much to achieve peace. He was my friend, and in my opinion, we are all a little worse off in this world without him in it."
Taking a moment to stop the emotion from choking his voice, Trip was surprised when members of the audience began to applaud. Starfleet had sent many rules of conduct to the delegations in attendance, advising all persons to clap their hands together when they heard something they liked. One by one, every pair of hands made their presence known when thunder broke out inside the room that was suddenly too small for all those people.
Trip raised his head a little higher, realizing for the first time that he would always remember his friend. He hoped to honor Jon with this dedication. He wished there was some way that Jon could see him now. He continued with his speech.
"I shouldn't be here." A soft voice cut through the new Captain's reverie. He looked up, still drying his hands on a soft towel in the newest bathrooms in Starfleet's new diplomatic wing. It was the first quiet moment he'd had since he gave what others were already referring to as an 'historic speech.' "
"This is the men's room," he pointed out to the pretty blond who stood there staring at him. She looked familiar to him, but he couldn't place her.
"I know, I just...," she stammered. She started to turn and leave, then turned back again. "I just wanted to meet you. It's just, with all the crowds out there," she waved listlessly over her shoulder, and Trip understood.
It seemed like thousands of people wanted to shake the hand of the number one captain in Starfleet's fledgling program. He was scheduled to take command of a Warp 7 ship next week.
"Captain Charles Tucker," he offered his newly dried hand. "People call me Trip."
She seemed to stifle laughter as she looked at his open hand, then regained herself. "My name is Reese," she smiled as she shook his hand. Her smile faded. "I knew him."
Trip looked startled.
"I knew Jon," she clarified. "He spoke very highly of you. He would be so proud if he could see you now." A flush crept over her cheeks. "He hates speaking in public, but I think you honored him well."
The Southerner remained speechless, his own sense of loss coming to the foreground and threatening to trample over all his good intentions to remain calm.
Reese stepped forward and cupped his cheek with her hand. "He says you were all the family he had, and you exhibited the best of his teachings. He says your humanity and heart gave you warmth that he lacked. He says he never would have got through it all without you. He says it's only fitting to leave the best part of him behind." She studied him appraisingly. "He was right."
She stepped back. Trip felt certain that he should shout at her for intruding on his personal space, for stepping into the men's room, and more than that for slandering his dead friend's name. For all his outrage, he couldn't bring himself to step forward.
"He loves you, you know."
At Trip's panicked face, she snickered rather inelegantly. "I meant he considers you to be a brother. He feels sure that you will always make him proud." Green eyes twinkled at him. She edged a little closer to the door.
"You're a good man, Charles Tucker. You were worth the risk." One last smile and she was gone.
It was only after she left that Trip realized she'd been speaking of Jonathan Archer in the present tense, not as though he had passed out of this world. He threw open the door and stepped into the hall to question her further. There was nobody there. He made his way into the conference room where a crush of people and reporters stepped forward to take his picture after his history-making speech. It was too late. She was nowhere to be found.
Sighing in exasperation, Trip rolled his head back on his neck. In the distance, on the balcony, he saw two figures standing together. One of them was slender and decidedly female. The other was tall and vaguely familiar. The tall man looked out on the swarming crowd and raised a hand in a careful salute. Nobody seemed to notice their appearance, except Trip. In the middle of the jostling crowd and flashes of light, he squinted his eyes to get a better look at the couple.
From outside the sun hit the glass walls up there and the light was suddenly blinding. When the glare subsided, the couple was gone. Trip was swallowed up in the crowd. He shook his head and sternly told himself not to drink any more champagne.
Hours later he made his excuses and his way back to his quarters, thankful for the quiet room. He sat down at his computer. Making himself comfortable by pulling open the top buttons on his uniform, he checked through the long list of names that had signed in to watch the endorsement of a charter that would spread peace in the galaxy. Only one name made him pause.
Doctor Reese Daniels, and guest.
"Daniels," Trip breathed. Hope leaped into his chest. If Daniels was involved in this then there was the possibility that Archer wasn't dead, and that Trip wasn't the worst friend ever for letting the captain die on his watch.
Part of him wanted to jump up and tell the entire tale to T'Pol, even though he was sure he'd get the same speech she always gave Captain Archer. "The Vulcan Science Directorate has determined that time travel is impossible."
The other part of him remembered that solitary wave from his friend. Trip knew that Archer watched the people around him falling in love and getting married, and going home to their families on leave, and regretted never experiencing that for himself. Today Trip saw Archer leave with a beautiful woman.
Maybe living without him is the price that Trip would have to pay to know that Jonathan Archer had a true family at last.
Of course, assuming that a person believed in time travel at all, it was possible to see his friend again some day. Living the rest of his life with hope in his heart was also a suitable price. It was better than the misery of living without him for the rest of time's travel.
Chuckling to himself, Trip got up. Maybe he'd find Malcolm and they'd share the story over a drink. His smile softened. Maybe he'd find T'Pol and tell her just so she could lecture him for being silly. His hand wrapped around the patch he'd pulled from the shoulder of another severely burned uniform, engraved with the name of his deeply lamented friend. Maybe he'd just keep Archer's secret and hope for the best.
Hope was the best of all things. A man could live forever with hope.
"I haven't thanked you yet for pulling me out of that corridor, have I?" The tall man asked his petite companion as they lingered on the balcony, watching the festivities.
"Nope," she told him.
"I will," he teased, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm.
"I'll hold my breath," she retorted dryly.
He smirked. "That was a pretty good speech if I do say so myself," he rocked back and forth, pleased with himself.
She grunted at his side, and chuckled. He eyed her carefully.
"That was my speech, wasn't it?" he started to frown.
"Hell no," she assured him cheerfully. "You're a terrible speech writer. I couldn't do that to those poor souls down there." She gestured with her chin. At his stricken look, she grinned. "I kept the same general outline, but remember I've had about nine hundred year's of historians going over that speech with a fine tooth comb. I just worked out a couple of the kinks."
Turning away from the balcony, Reese pressed a button on a handheld device and a bright white light opened a temporal gate behind them. They passed through, holding hands like kids on a first date.
Looking down at their entwined hands with matching bands, he sighed. "I can't believe I made Daniels my brother." They stood on another balcony where a gentle breeze cooled the humid night air. Jon picked up a fruity beverage from a tray and offered one to his new wife.
She giggled. "One super ego deserves another." Green eyes twinkled. "Besides, he's still not talking to us, remember? He's mad that I wouldn't give back his stupid temporal junk." She waved her handheld device before dropping it casually on a low table.
At the pointedly judgmental look of the man beside her, she sighed with exasperation. "It's on my ship! I'd say that qualifies as my property! It will also teach him not to clutter up my room with his weird historical fetishes!"
Archer pondered carefully. "We really should get him another mannequin," he told her. "I think the other is burned beyond repair."
"Not to mention, it's buried in your plot in a cemetery back on Earth," she reminded him.
"How did it pass a genetic scan?" His brow furrowed in concentration, even as he slid an arm around her waist.
"I'll tell you later," she shook her head in amusement. Of all the wonders she could show him, he wanted to know about genetic clones and androids. Go figure.
Turning away from the ocean view below, Archer leaned in closer to the pretty woman.
"So what do you do in the future?" he asked, trying his best 'come hither' stare.
She wondered if there was something in his eye. "At present, I am a history teacher. You're in luck," she added mockingly.
"A history teacher?" he repeated.
"I have advanced degrees in history, temporal mechanics and psychiatry," she told him, sounding bored. "I make a living teaching history to school children. I have lesser degrees in pottery making and hologenerator technology, and in my spare time I like to go scuba diving and rock climbing." She pursed her lips. "Most men find those things out before they put these on," she held up his hand bearing his matching band to his face.
"I don't like to be conventional," he stated loftily, kissing her fingers.
She giggled again. "I don't think we have to worry about that!" She eyed the time travel device. "We can't live in your world because you're dead. We can't live in my world because you have to pass by more than a doorbell to get into most public buildings in the future, and you are something of a genetic anomaly!"
"We've been doing pretty well for the last year," he reminded her. "You've been abusing your understanding of temporal mechanics and knowledge of history."
She grinned without shame, as he'd known she would. "Yes I have!" Her arms slid around his waist. "And you don't have to worry about everyone looking over your shoulder and comparing you to your father. You are your own man." Her voice gentled as she looked up into his face, which despite the extra year on it, looked much younger than it had when she first met him.
"Actually, I'm your man," he told her and her knees grew weak. They kissed deeply.
When they broke apart a few minutes later, Jon grinned. "Two more days and nights of this and then we have to go back and let your brother out of the closet."
"It's going to take more than a key for that," Reese muttered, rolling her eyes.
"Hmm?" Jon looked at her curiously.
"We should really find him someone special," she said louder and clearer with an overly innocent smile.
Jon agreed. "We should. I never thought the future looked so good until I had a chance to share it with you."
"You old softy," she teased. "I'm not sure if that was extremely sappy or terribly romantic."
"Let's go with romantic," he told her, sweeping her into his arms and humming 'Isn't it Romantic?' loudly in her ear. Her quiet laughter answered in the affirmative. "Here's hoping to many more years of this," he whispered in her ear.
Hope was the best of all things. A man could live forever with hope.
They went inside and shut off the lights.