A/N: Night'sDarkness, you are always one step ahead of me and it's really like you're reading my mind. A bit scary – probably for you more so than me.
By the way, all, I know that Tallah is spelled Talla, but when I started this more than a year ago, I was unaware. So, I'm hoping everyone will forgive me if I at least stick with my own spelling to be consistent. Let's call it the ancient Andorian spelling. :-)
-----
Shran's Victorian-style house took on an eerie quiet, blue lights dancing along ceilings as the moon streamed into the darkened abode. Archer took T'Pol's hand as they walked up the staircase, wondering exactly what he would be asked to do as the "avat" – the Andorian equivalent of godparent.
Reaching the top of the stairs, he heard Phlox's voice speaking in low, encouraging tones to Jhamel.
Do I want to see this? Archer thought. He'd never witnessed a woman give birth, not even a human one.
"It's a natural part of life," he heard from T'Pol
When they entered what Shran referred to as his unborn son's room, they saw Jhamel in a chair with what looked like a curtain around her middle, hiding the legs of the chair as well as her lower body. Her torso was covered by a hospital gown, brow was sweaty and her eyes squinted.
"Thank you for coming," she said. Even despite her giving birth, Jhamel managed to sound sweet and inviting.
"You honor us," said T'Pol. Meanwhile Archer provided a tepid smile.
Phlox grinned eagerly at the two of them. "I'm glad you agreed to see this, Admiral and Ambassador."
Shran walked toward his wife, pressing a cold compress on her head and neck and whispering in her ear. Tallah, too bored to stick around, popped in only briefly to say hello to Archer and T'Pol, as if nothing was happening, and then went back into her room to play and roam the house.
Phlox gave an explanation of what everything was while the Andorian couple let their antennae wander over each other. He pointed to the chair and told them it was used by Andorians as a birthing chair – allowing the baby to fall from a small height into a soft bedding used to make the child's nest below. Archer was about to ask whether it would hurt the infant or how Phlox would know the baby was making its way out, when the Denobulan pointed to the back of the chair indicating it would enable him to view the progress and help ensure a safe landing.
Shran said, "Andorian births don't typically need a doctor." And then softening a little, tucking his wife's head under his chin, he also explained that because she was Aenar and their child was of mixed blood, they asked for a physician.
"What do we do?" asked Archer, quietly to T'Pol.
"I believe assist in any way we can."
Right on the heels of T'Pol's statement, Shran gave Archer an order. "Get some ice for Jhamel."
Sighing, he limped out of the room and headed downstairs. Tallah was already in the kitchen, pouring herself some water.
"Looks like you'll finally get a brother. Are you excited?" asked Archer, his eyes twinkling at the girl.
"I guess."
He rummaged around in the icebox and pulled out some ice cubes, putting them into a glass.
"Do you have a brother?" she asked.
"No," he said.
"Sister?"
"No. I'm an only child."
Tallah nodded and sipped the over-sized drink as he was about finished collecting ice cubes. Before he could turn around and head back upstairs the young girl stopped him, pointing at him.
"Pink Skin, my father says you should make babies with the Vulcan. Are you going to?"
The glass nearly slipped from his grip and he squinted. "I don't know."
"I think you should, too." With a somewhat pensive expression drifting over her face, she said, "I wonder whether they'll have pointed ears."
He'd wondered whether a child born of a Vulcan and a human would have pointed ears as well; he secretly hoped they would, like Lorian or Elizabeth.
"I should probably get back," he said.
The little girl gave a smile as Archer made a beeline for the room. When he got in, he could tell Jhamel's face was going whiter – the moment creeping ever closer. Shran immediately waved over the ice cubes and pressed one against the woman's lips for her to suck on it. T'Pol meanwhile intertwined her hand with Jonathan's, sharing through their bond she believed this was a beautiful moment that she'd want to remember.
For the first time since they began dating, if Archer could call it that, he looked down at her and realized – as Tallah suggested – she could be a mother. Maybe even the mother of his children. It reminded him that he'd seen her as one before – twice in fact – and she'd been admirable, loving and kind both times. Settling behind her, he wrapped his arms around her middle and held her. And he snuggled her closer when she didn't struggle away, despite the blatant affection in front of others.
Phlox ran a scanner Jhamel and smiled. "It appears we only have about eight more hours until the big event."
"Only eight more hours?" thought Archer.
"Shran did indicate he had coffee. Perhaps you should begin to brew some."
Archer left to head back downstairs and awaited the barrage of new questions he'd get from Shran's daughter. He liked Tallah, but occasionally the resemblance to her father was frightening in a good and bad way.
----
Shran beamed from antennae to antennae. The excitement of the moment couldn't quite surpass when Tallah was born, the child fighting through her mother's womb with the ferocity of an Imperial Guardsman, but it was close. The newness of being a father was gone, but the magic of seeing his new child wasn't lost.
He remembered the time and the nervousness of being a new dad – they were on Andoria then.
Jhamel was huddled to Tallah's nursery and plopped into a birthing chair as an Andorian doctor kept a close eye on the Aenar. Shran himself kept poking his head underneath the seat to see if there was any action, and was disappointed almost every time.
No progress. Nothing.
"Maybe if you push a little harder--" he said, as a helpful suggestion.
"Thy'lek Shran," said Jhamel. Her voice was as smooth as a glacier, floating in the sea.
"Yes, my love?"
"Shut up."
His antennae twisted and a frown crept over his lips. As he was about to argue with her, the doctor put a hand on his shoulder.
"Just be supportive," he advised. "She's in a lot of pain."
Shran frowned more and nodded; Jhamel was determined to get through the process without drugs – something that even an Andorian woman like Talas would've asked for. It scared him a little, especially since they were unsure exactly whether an Andorian/Aenar child would be delivered easily.
Offering a hand to his wife, he felt it squeezed nearly until he lost blood flow in his fingers. After prying his hand away, she grabbed his other one with the same vice-like grip. And in the spirit of being supportive, he cooed to her and provided her a few kisses to the top of her white head.
Minutes ticked by, seeming like hours, and Jhamel's hand grabbed the arm of the chair and she grunted.
"I see some antennae," said the doctor.
Shran in his excitement, left his wife's side and poked his head under the chair to see two squiggling antennae – dark blue in color.
"Come on, girl," said Shran to his daughter, encouraging her to come out quickly.
It only took a few more grunts before the child plopped onto the soft nest created for her. The doctor cut the umbilical chord, cleaned out her mouth for her first breath and then her antennae. Shran's lips sloped up as his daughter opened her gigantic red eyes – the color of all Andorian newborns – and then screamed when being placed in his arms.
"Beautiful," he said to his wife who got to hold her daughter several seconds later.
This time, he tried to refrain from leaving Jhamel's side, despite his excitement and worry. And yet, he was glad his friends were able to come and be with her as well, to help out. With a smile on his face, he led belted out the first of the Andorian birthing songs one that he noticed chased Archer away to get more coffee.
Ten hours, two more songs, a few games and five cups of coffee later, Phlox had bided the time and silence to talk about the most interesting birthing and mating rituals, listing the natives from Rigel X as possibly the most interesting. As he described the process, Tallah ran away in fear and Archer furrowed his brow with confusion. Shran also couldn't help, but notice during the description the two he'd chosen as avat held hands.
Family life would be good for them.
A scanner beeped, and Phlox stopped suddenly in re-describing the mating process to Archer.
"It's almost time," he said.
Archer put down his cup of coffee, suddenly coming to life.
Shran waved T'Pol and Archer over, and instructed they stand on either side of her and offer their hand in support. Before the Pink Skin could offer his, Jhamel latched onto it and wrenched it for all it was worth. Meanwhile, Shran stayed behind and stroked her hair.
"Jhamel, you're going to deliver a beautiful son."
Phlox bent down and lifted the curtain from the back, allowing privacy, and then looked back up.
"I can see the tip of an antennae," he said.
Shran resisted the urge to bend down on all fours and watch his boy push his way from his mother's womb. Instead, he stayed rooted behind her and kissed her head.
"That's good, my love." He was about to begin another rendition of an Andorian birthing song, one said to sooth the mother when he heard his wife speak.
"If you sing that stupid song one more time, I'll rip out your antennae," she said, sweetly.
"I was about to tell him the same thing," said Archer. The smile fell from his lips as Jhamel grunted and grabbed his hand for all it was worth.
Phlox said, "Ah! I see a head."
Unable to fight the excitement any longer, impatiently Shran bent down to watch his son drop to the soft nest below.
"Come on, boy!"
When his offspring didn't immediately drop, despite a few grunts from his wife, Phlox stood and encouraged the Aenar.
He said, "I know you're tired, but it's important you continue to push."
Shran looked up with alarm. "Jhamel, just a little more."
The woman's face, drenched with sweat, seemed on the verge of tears. Shran stood and faced the women he'd been married to for more than seven years.
"I know this birth has lasted longer than the last one, but you need to keep going. Just a little more."
She grunted, gritting her teeth, and her body shook. The Andorian didn't remember that happening last time, and looked over at Phlox with some concern. Worse, he could see Jhamel begin to crumble, tears spilling down her cheeks. That didn't happen either, and thought the Aenar was sensitive, she rarely cried. It scared him.
"Jhamel?" he asked.
The doctor reached for his scanner, reviewing it with a grimace. He said, "Jhamel, I don't want to frighten you, but unless the baby emerges soon, I'll need to assist you."
T'Pol spread her fingers over Jhamel's hand, turning it so she could tap the inside of her palm. Shran was about to ask what the grendal she was doing, when his wife seemed to relax a little – shoulders slouching ever so slightly and jaw beginning to unclench.
"It should help sooth the pain," said T'Pol.
"You need to push immediately," said Phlox.
"Come on, Jhamel," said Archer, joining in on the encouragement. "You can do it."
Shran looked into his wife's eyes, crouching as he did. "Just a few more times. Just a few more times for me."
Squinting her eyes, she gritted her teeth and grunted, gripping Archer's hand a little tighter and grasping T'Pol's too. Phlox bent down to check on the progress.
"The head is clear!"
After a collective sigh, Jhamel pushed a few more times, moaning and groaning as she did. And yet, not once did she complain. With the same enthusiasm, Shran eventually poked his head down and watched just as his baby fell onto the nest below. Phlox offered the Andorian cut the umbilical chord, which he did with a smile, the doctor cleaned the baby's mouth and antennae and then settled it in Shran's arms. Looking down at his child, he grinned and watched as two red eyes looked up and yet instead of screaming, this child cooed. Unlike Tallah, the baby had light blue skin, almost white like its mother.
He has the peaceful spirit of his mother. This child won't be a warrior.
And that made Shran smile more. He placed their son in his wife's arms and she finally let the tears she'd been holding back flow as the Andorian felt a sniffle, too.
Tallah, who'd managed to miss most of the excitement, finally came in to see her baby brother and curled up her lip.
"He's wrinkled," she said.
Shran threw his arms open for his daughter, which she eventually ran into, and he pointed at the baby.
"His name should be Gareb," said Thy'lek. "He should be named after your brother."
Jhamel disagreed, wiping away a few tears. "His name should be Shras. It means peace-maker in Aenar."
"Fitting," said Shran.
As the moment was drawing to a close, Shran almost forgot the additional duties of the avat. He asked Tallah to bring back his ushaan-tor and when the girl held aloft the blade, Shran immediately reached for Archer's thumb and cut into his skin.
"What the--!" said the Pink Skin.
"Relax," said Shran.
Grabbing the bloody thumb, Shran rubbed it onto Shras' belly swishing and swirling it, in the sign of protection. And then he turned to T'Pol, who offered up her index finger. The blade sliced into her skin and then he smeared the green blood over his child's stomach with the same writing. Watching the red and green blood mix, he looked at his two friends, remembering they'd been curled into each other's arms for most of the night.
They are a good choice to protect my son.
Jhamel, exhausted, but glowing hoisted her child to T'Pol, offering the Vulcan hold it. Swaddled in a white blanket, the Vulcan scooped the baby into her arms and watched it curiously. Shras' little antennae roamed liked feelers until it caught her neck, causing the boy to gurgle. A finger swept against the boy's cheek and T'Pol looked earnestly at Jhamel.
"He's beautiful."
Archer's hand went over her back and he looked on with a faint smile.
"Do you want to hold him?" Shran asked Archer.
Nodding, he took the child from T'Pol. The baby fussed a little under his care, and T'Pol suggested using a different hold that quieted Shras right away. Phlox was the next to cuddle the boy, gently swaying him from side to side until he went to sleep.
"You seem to be a natural," said Shran.
"My extended family includes many children," he said.
Shran pointed to the nest and the doctor walked carefully over and set the boy into the Andorian version of a crib. With a satisfied sigh, the Andorian sang the last of the birth songs, one that drew the ceremonies to a close. Prideful, he noted Jhamel didn't stop him, and in a tenor voice called out to welcome his child into the world.
---
T'Pol watched Archer rub his hand over his face as he lumbered to Phlox's shuttle. Offering an arm around his waist, he gave a gentle smile, appreciative of the help.
"It's been a long night," he said.
"It has," she whispered back.
Phlox, beaming, pointed to his vehicle and spoke of how exciting births always were. "It's truly the best part of being a physician."
"I can understand why," said T'Pol, getting into his shuttle.
The doctor then enthusiastically proceeded to go over the highlights of the night, Andorian culture and their birthing practices some of which weren't followed. He noted in particular that sometimes Andorians staged a mock-battle to make their daughter or son a warrior. As Phlox rattled on, T'Pol noticed Archer look out the window; it's when she decided to contact him through the bond.
"That was a remarkable experience," she thought to him.
"Yeah."
"You have been quiet."
He looked over at her. "Just thinking."
T'Pol took a deep breath. "You know, we could have children. It may take help from Phlox, but it is theoretically possible for a Vulcan-human child to live into adulthood."
His hand reached around hers. "Maybe because we've been friends so long, we've skipped some of the steps to dating – like finding out whether we both want children."
"You were wondering whether it was scientifically possible; I was merely providing facts. For example, Lorian – with Phlox's help – lived more than one hundred years."
"I know," he thought. "But, that was on an Enterprise where mixed races were commonplace. What kind of life would that child have here on Earth?"
"Shran and Jhamel seem unbothered by the same question."
He sighed. "That's different. The only outward difference in their appearance is skin color."
"Besides my ears, it appears that is our only difference." Narrowing her eyes, she watched over his countenance, which included flattened lips; there was more. "Do you want children?"
"I'm not sure." Her eyes met his and despite trying not to look disappointed, he hurled a small frown at her. "I'm over fifty, T'Pol. I'm middle aged. If I were to have a son or daughter now, I'd be more than seventy when they entered college."
"Humans can live as long as one hundred and twenty."
"It's rare."
"So your concern is that you are too old? My father was more than 100 when I was born."
He was about to answer when the shuttle arrived at Jonathan's complex. Giving a fond farewell, the Denobulan dropped them off. As she watched the shuttle zoom into the distance, she reached her hand around his middle and he leaned on her again. In silence, they walked into the building, into the elevator and down the hall to his apartment. When they reached his place, and after he let himself in, keeping the door ajar, he turned around.
"Listen, if you don't want to continue this--" he said.
Through the bond, she was aware of how he believed it sounded, stupid, but he felt compelled to say the words. He was about to open his mouth and say something else, equally silly, when she placed her lips on his. When they broke from their kiss, she raised an eyebrow at him.
She said, "Answering you are not sure you want children is hardly 'no.'"
"It's not a 'yes.'"
Leading him to the couch, she helped him sit.
T'Pol said, "A bond is not something to be taken lightly. The one I had with Trip was caused by a child created without our will or knowledge. It placed hardship on the two of us, confusing both of us when that bond was created and when it ended."
Archer's brow furrowed.
She continued, "Our bond, Jonathan, was formed because we care about each other, deeply so, and have – to a certain extent – for some time. I do not wish to sever this link because you are unsure you want children."
After several seconds passed, he finally said, "I saw you hold Shras tonight. You just … you looked beautiful, like you should be a mother."
"Isn't it my decision?" she asked.
"I love you too much for you to give away that opportunity," he said. "And it's best we settle this now before we become further involved."
You do not understand. We are already much more than just involved, she thought. We have chosen each other – no matter what. And, I have already given you my thoughts on the matter: being with you is more important than giving birth to offspring.
The two stared into each other's eyes and she knew through their connection that Jonathan didn't feel worthy of such devotion. Gently pressing her fingers against his, she disagreed and questioned his adoration toward her. It led to kisses, which turned passionate and as he began to tug his shirt off, she announced that she wanted to slip into her robe. It was illogical, but she wanted this – their first time since he was back – to be memorable.
He headed to his bed, eagerly removing clothing and she shut herself in his bathroom. Brushing her hair forward, fixing her makeup and rubbing lotion over her skin, she slipped into a blue robe – wearing nothing else. She looked into the mirror once more before opening the door.
Sprawled under the covers was Jonathan, his eyes closed and light snore leaving is lips.
T'Pol sighed, turned off the rest of the lights and settled next him. He mumbled under his breath that he loved her and she uncharacteristically spooned behind him, grabbing his belly while he slept.
TBC
A/N: Shras is the name of the delegate from Journey to Babel (TOS) who represents Andoria. I thought it was fitting we should see him again later, especially as an older man.