Prompt 97: "I'll pick you up at the airport." (Samantha Wildman/Greskrendtregh & Naomi)
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Samantha Wildman watched through the viewport of her quarters on Deep Space Nine as the wormhole to the Gamma Quadrant, reverently known to her Bajoran colleagues as the Celestial Temple, furled and unfurled in a blaze of blue and golden light. It had been somewhat unsettling to watch at first, but she'd gotten used to it, as she'd gotten used to the spiky architecture of the station, her tight quarters and the mixed blessings of sharing them. As a Starfleet officer, one could get used to almost anything, but some things never got any easier.
Saying goodbye was one of them.
"Shouldn't you be packing?" a warm, teasing voice asked from behind her.
"Oh, crap. Computer, what time is it?"
When the computer gave a time that was still three hours away from the U.S.S. Voyager's departure, she let out a sigh of relief and began packing anyway.
"You scared me!"
Her husband Greskrendtregh shot her an unrepentant grin. With his slit-pupiled yellow eyes and four sharp horns in the middle of his forehead, he looked like a demon in a child's folk tale, but she had long since learned to see the beauty in that smile.
"Just making sure you're punctual," he said. "As befits an officer and a lady."
"Could you lend me a hand, then?"
"All right." He clicked with mock disapproval as she pulled her largest duffel bag out of the bottom drawer. "Just to make sure you don't carry away the entire contents of these quarters."
"What? I like to be prepared."
In the age of replicators, packing light was easier than it used to be, but she still insisted on folding up and stacking several spare sets of uniforms, underwear and bedclothes, just in case. Padd, tricorder, personal hygiene kit, holosuite chips …
"I cannot believe you still play Flotter and Trevis," said Gresk, shaking his red-gold ponytail in mock disapproval, as he recognized a somewhat battered, bright blue chip. "You're taking that? For a two-week trip?"
"It's my lucky charm, you know that." She kissed the chip and tucked it into an inside pocket of the bag. "It's been everywhere with me since I was little."
Sam had been a Starfleet baby, raised on remote colonies and aboard Constitution-class ships with her parents. The holonovels she played had been as much home to her as the real-world places, perhaps even more so, because they never changed. She enjoyed the variety and adventure of her life, but the older she got, the more she appreciated things that stayed the same.
She looked around at their quarters, their third home together in as many years. There were so few personal touches here, mostly because of all the moving around. Bed, table and chairs, replicator and 'fresher were all standard issue, made in shades of blue, teal and silver that matched their uniforms (at least hers, since he wore engineering yellow). The brightest thing in the room, besides Gresk's red hair, was his own "lucky charm": a small painting of a herd of aud'rast, horned purple equines, galloping over the prairies of Ktaris. He had learned to ride them when he was a boy and taught her on their honeymoon, although she'd never dared to go faster than a trot. She would never forget the wind in her hair, the animal's strength, or Gresk's proud smile beside her.
"When I come back," she said, "Do you think … do you think we could put in for reassignment? Somewhere safer … maybe planetside?"
"I think that might not be such a bad idea," said Gresk, uncharacteristically subdued. "Especially if … "
Instead of finishing his sentence, he pulled a small medkit out of the top drawer of the nightstand on her side of the bed and held it out to her. It contained something they had almost given up on discussing out loud, so as not to jinx it. But they'd been hoping for almost a year, with no results; even Dr. Bashir was starting to look grave and shake his head.
"Oh, are you sure?" asked Sam. "After all this time?"
"I'm sure, my love." He closed her fingers over the medkit. His hands were gentle, but his golden eyes were fierce. "I'm not ready to give up hope yet. I still believe it's possible. We've already defied the odds just by being together, haven't we?"
"We did."
"And do you still want a baby?"
"So much," she said, looking up at the man she loved and imagining how utterly unique a child of theirs would be. Blue eyes or yellow, red hair or blond, horns or none, it would still be beautiful. It would be a sign of hope that, no matter how fast-moving or dangerous the galaxy around them, there was still a better future to work for.
"So promise me you won't stop the treatments," he said, putting both hands on her shoulders. "Promise me."
"I promise."
She stood up on tiptoe in order to kiss him. The first time they'd tried this, she'd been afraid of his horns getting in the way, but after enough practice (lots and lots of practice), she'd learned to love the brush of cool ivory against her forehead along with warm lips against hers.
"Good," he said, smiling again, as soon as they'd pulled away. "Because my genetic material is the only part of me you'll be getting for the next two weeks."
"I'll make the most of it, believe me," she said with a straight face, and congratulated herself on making him laugh.
The computer chimed, alerting them both to the fact that Voyager was arriving soon. She tucked the medkit into the bag, zipped it up and slung it over her shoulder.
"Did I forget something?"
"If you did, it's too late," he said. "I'll probably find it a week from now."
"Ha! Right."
He walked with her down to the docking ring, where a cluster of fellow officers was already waiting, including one red-faced Asian ensign and a blond lieutenant trying to hide a smirk. Sam caught the name "Quark" as they talked by and sympathized; it sounded like the Ferengi bartender was up to his usual tricks.
She would be so glad to leave DS9 behind and start over somewhere new. The frontier was no place to raise a family.
"When are you scheduled to come back?" asked Gresk.
She told him the date and time, as per the briefing she'd received.
"I'll pick you up at the docking ring," he said. "I'll be the one with the wrinkled uniform and the lovelorn expression. Hard to miss."
"You're ridiculous."
"But you love me anyway."
They kissed goodbye – chastely, for the benefit of their colleagues – and he touched the tip of one horn to her forehead before reluctantly letting go.
"God help me, I do," said Sam.
/
Seven years later …
Sam had never seen the DS9 docking ring so crowded. Some of the senior officers' families had been allowed to board the ship – Lieutenant Paris' father, because he was Admiral Paris, and Commander Tuvok's son on medical grounds – but for everyone else, this was where the reunions were taking place. Kisses, hugs and handshakes were happening everywhere she looked.
"Hold on," she said, keeping a tight grip on Naomi's hand so as not to lose her in the crowd.
"Do you see him anywhere?" Her little girl looked anxious, and no wonder.
Not yet, Sam was about to say, when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She knew before she turned around who it would be.
"Samantha … I told you I'd pick you up, didn't I?"
"Gresk!"
He looked so familiar and so strange at the same time. He'd been joking about the wrinkled uniform, of course, but it was a new design – blue shoulders and yellow turtleneck – and it fit him differently; he'd grown heavier, his eyes lined, and his ponytail streaked with gray, which was much more obvious in person than over a three-minute comm. He even smelled like a different brand of aftershave, something strong and musky that she did not altogether like. But his eyes were still the same bright gold she remembered, and they still blazed with light when they met hers.
Seven years. There was so much about him she'd forgotten, so much of life he must have lived without her. He'd served in a war, seen DS9 occupied and almost destroyed several times. Ktarians had a photographic memory, but wouldn't she be strange to him as well?
"Well, I … I told you I'd keep doing the fertility treatments," she managed to say. "And, uh ... here we are."
She stepped sideways to reveal Naomi, who was feeling shy and hiding behind her.
"Anyone can see they were successful," said Gresk. "Hello, Naomi."
"Hi, Dad."
He knew better than to overwhelm her with a hug or display of emotion. After all, aside from letters and short conversations, they were practically strangers. He went down on one knee so that they were at eye level – in fact, she was even taller – and held out a hand for her to shake.
"It is my very great honor," he said, "To finally meet you in person."
Naomi grinned at the excessive formality and shook his hand. "Me too," she said. "But that's not how your people greet each other, right? Mom taught me."
She leaned down and rubbed horns with him, to his absolute delight. "A First Contact specialist, who'd have thought?"
"You're a lot taller than over comm."
"I could stay like this if it makes you more comfortable?" He made a show of scrunching down in his kneeling position.
Naomi giggled, and so did Sam, both reaching out to help him up. There was the Gresk she remembered; if he could still make her laugh, he couldn't be that much of a stranger after all.
They had made promises to each other, never knowing what it would cost to keep them, but even now, it was not too late.
/
Author's Note: Since we know almost nothing about Naomi's dad from canon, my portrayal owes a lot to fellow fan fiction writer The Cheshire Cheese. Their story "Unbreakable" was my source for his appearance and personality, as well as the Ktarian animal we see as Naomi's rocking horse in the episode "Mortal Coil."