Chapter Four

After two hours of tossing and turning, Jon decided enough was enough and stood up to get dressed and go for a walk to clear his head.

Porthos threw him a "thank-god-for-that-you're-disturbing-my-sleep" look, causing him to smile and ruffle his fur as he walked past his cushion to the door. "Sorry about that, boy," he muttered on his way out, as Porthos rolled his eyes and went back to sleep.

Not really sure where he was headed, Jon casually walked throughout the corridor's deep in thought. After ten minutes, he lifted up his head and found that his travels had unwittingly taken him to his mother's quarters. "Must be an omen that we should talk more," he thought as he pressed the comm. outside her door, hoping he wasn't disturbing her too much at such an ungodly hour. Just like him though, she opened the door wide awake.

"I'm not disturbing you, am I?" Jon asked.

"No, I kind of expected you to come here sometime during the night," she replied with a half hearted attempt at a smile, standing aside to let him enter. "I'm not surprised you've got too much on your mind for sleep, after what I just told you. If it's any consolation, I'm sorry I left it this long."

"Why? … Why didn't you tell me before now?" he asked as he sat down beside her on the bed.

"You were young, idealistic and worshiped the ground your father walked upon. The divorce was hard enough on you, not being able to see your hero every day. I certainly wasn't going to make it any harder or put more stress on you by telling you the real reason we were apart. My argument was with him, not you, so I didn't feel it was right for me to destroy your perception of him, as it would have been just vindictive on my part," she explained. "I wanted to tell you when you were older, but you were going through such pain and suffering watching him fall prey to that disease and then lose himself. The only thing that got you through that was the thought of bringing your father's dream to fruition one day. I wasn't going to take the chance of destroying you as well, by telling you that that very same dream was the nightmare that torn us, as a family, apart."

"How do you know that it still won't?" asked Jon.

"Because working with a Vulcan these past few years has let you see both sides of the equation and realize that it wasn't black and white in respect to who was right and wrong. I'm hoping experience like that won't prejudice your thinking with regards to whether your father was right or wrong in what he did." Jon smiled and gave her hand a small squeeze; he just hoped his mother was right in her faith that she had in hoping he could overcome this, because right now the outlook, in his eyes, was very bleak indeed.

"So what happened?" he asked … "to my brother …? You said you were pregnant at the time."

"I miscarried … I not sure if Henry's affair was the main reason for me losing the baby, but it sure didn't help. We tried to put it behind us, especially when I found out after we returned from Yellowstone, that the young woman in question disappeared from Henry's life and the project, but our marriage just kind of spiralled downwards from there. I had my suspicion's that Henry tried to find her when he heard rumors that she'd gone home to get married and had a baby not long after. Questions about the dates involved had raised a few eyebrows among some of the more gossipy members of the project, about whether her husband was actually the father. I'm sure Henry was curious as to the validity of those claims."

"And?" Jon prompted.

"I don't know for sure if there was any truth to this or if it was all hearsay, but quite frankly I didn't care. I'd had enough and decided it was time to get on with my life again without Henry being involved."

"So you never found out if it was true or not?" asked Jon.

"No, and neither did Henry … he got more distant and absorbed into his project than ever before."

"I wish I'd known, Mom!"

"What good would it have done--"

"I could have helped you through it," interrupted Jon, "not played up as much."

"You kept me on my toes," smiled Sally. "I'm thankful for that. It gave me something to focus on, other than getting depressed. Come on, all this talking has made me hungry. Do you think your Chef would mind if we raided his kitchen for an early morning snack?"

"It's never bothered him before. Let's go and see what he's got."

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Finding some cheese, ham and pickles, in the fridge in the galley, Archer made himself and his mother a sandwich before they both sat down in the Mess Hall to tuck into their nighttime snack and contemplate events old and new.

Archer looked up at the sound of the Mess Hall door opening. "I thought I was the only insomniac amongst the crew," came the teasing voice of Trip as he grabbed a glass of milk and a plate of pecan pie from the drinks and food dispenser before walking towards them. "Mind if I join ya?"

After everything he'd just found out about his dad's involvement with Trip's mom, Archer didn't really feel comfortable about being near him at the moment, but not wanting to be rude, he nodded his head and indicated for him to sit down with them. "It's not Trip's fault," he thought over and over again, but each time he looked at his friend's face, the image of his dad and Trip's mom in an amorous embrace with the distressed image of his mother in the background, kept leaping out and taunting him in his mind. Pretty soon the atmosphere became thick, cold and tense, as Jon tried to temper unjust negative emotions that were building up inside him.

"Sooooo ….!" said Trip, trying to break the uncomfortable silence that had descended upon them as it was making his head pound. "How long are ya staying onboard?" he asked, aiming the question at Sally, trying not to wince from his throbbing head.

"Not long," she replied, throwing him a glare that literally bored right through him as she tried to search his face for any recognizable similarities.

Feeling awkward from her intense scrutiny, Trip turned his attention to his friend. "Heard anything about where we're next headed?"

"No …" Jon muttered, doing his utmost to not let his inner turmoil show.

After a few more minutes of uncomfortable silence, Trip tried again. "T'Pol's back tomorrow," he said looking at Jon again.

"Good … that's good to hear," he answered before lapsing into silence once more.

"Yeah, it'll be good to see her again," replied Trip, to no one in particular, as he tried to wrap his mind over why he could suddenly cut the atmosphere in the room with a knife.

"Trip," said Sally suddenly, "that's quite a grand name you've got there … Charles Tucker III."

"Yeah, dad wanted to keep with family tradition and name me after his father," said Trip.

"I presume then that your title indicates you were the first born in your family--"

"Well …" interrupted Archer, as he stood up quickly and yanked his mother up out of her chair. He could see where her line of questioning was going and he just didn't want to go there yet. "Where does the time go? I think we should probably turn in and get some rest now … big day tomorrow. See you around, Trip," he said, leading his mother out of the Mess Hall, much to Trip's surprise, as he wondered just what the hell had brought all of this on.

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