Chapter 11: Not your average family reunion.
Captain Archer looked at his First and Second Officer, standing opposite him in his ready room, and idly wondered into what marvellous, uncharted territory this conversation was going to take them. "Right," He said "it seems we were... will be... would have been..." he wondered what tense you were supposed to use for an event that has already happened, but not yet, and now may not happen at all, but will still have happened. No doubt T'Pol, would lament how imprecise human languages were. The Vulcan Science Directorate may have determined that time travel is not possible, he thought with a touch of asperity, but certainly they would never be so illogical as to not prepare their language for a single event that, at the same time, has already, has not yet, and will never happen.
He started again, "It would seem that Enterprise has, once again, determined that the Vulcan Science Directorate doesn't know shit about time travel, and we are now hosting a mixer with our various descendants, whose ancestors, i.e. us, were thrown back 117 years into the past."
Trip pressed his lips together and rolled them between his teeth in an apparent effort not to grin as he tipped his head forward and turned it away from T'Pol to prevent her seeing his mirth. For her part, T'Pol didn't move a muscle, except the ones that controlled her right eyebrow which arched towards her hairline.
"That is an.. interesting, if somewhat emotional, summary of our current situation, Captain." T'Pol told him with typical Vulcan blandness.
Archer looked between his two officers standing before him. "Speaking of emotional, I must say, considering that you two have just been introduced you to your 100 year old son, you both seem to be taking it pretty calmly."
T'Pol gave him her 'thoughtful' expression. "I admit I was somewhat surprised by Lorian's ancestry, a successful hybrid paring of human/Vulcan DNA has yet to be achieved by our scientists."
"That's what surprised you?" Archer asked incredulous "not the fact that you and our Chief Engineer stopped arguing long enough to get married, let alone have a child?"
Trip huffed with laughter causing Archer to turn his attention to the engineer. "Don't look at me Cap'n," Trip said holding up his hands in a conciliatory manner. "Once you've been knocked up by a box of rocks, the bar is set pretty high for being shocked by your offspring."
Archer couldn't help laughing himself at the reminder. "Well T'Pol, you may be further surprised to know that you're still knocking around over there. I just had a rather emotional reunion with you in your quarters."
T'Pol's eyebrows went up. "It is not unlikely that a Vulcan of my current age would live for a further 117 years, and perhaps longer. It is somewhat unexpected that I, personally, would still be 'knocking around' as you say, given my medical condition."
Trip regarded her speculatively, "and just how old would a Vulcan of your current age be, T'Pol?" He asked with grin, obviously he still had not given up his nearly three year quest to get her to tell him her age.
T'Pol, who had three years of experience not answering that particular question, didn't even acknowledge his impertinence with an eyebrow.
Archer looked at them both thoughtfully, realising the implications of T'Pol's statement and Trip's lack of surprise. Obviously she had told Trip about her Pa'nar Syndrome. That suggested a certain level of intimacy, perhaps not 'married with children intimacy', but he was starting to reassess the nature of their relationship in light of recent information. He decided he didn't have time for whatever was going on with them at the moment and picked up the PADD sitting on his desk.
"Your, er, aged counterpart gave me this. She said it had some data on it you may be interested in, and that you'd know what to do with it." As he said it, he handed the PADD across the desk to her.
He turned to the chief engineer "Trip, how are the engine upgrades going?"
"Pretty good, Cap'n, we should be done in the next eight to twelve hours. Lorian's a pretty fair engineer. I'd love to have some time to sit down and pick his brains."
"Okay, get it done. Hopefully we'll have more time to get to know him and his crew once this is over. Dismissed."
Archer watched them leave the ready room and sighed as he turned to his computer to update his daily log. He could already imagine the 'fun' that Starfleet and the Vulcans would have with this particular incident if they got back to Earth. Time travel, a Vulcan/ human marriage, a Vulcan/human hybrid; Soval would probably need surgery to get his eyebrow lowered.
Entering the mess hall to get a drink, the captain's eye couldn't help but be caught by the three people having a drink together in the still shattered remains of the room.
He noticed how relaxed the they seemed to be together. The younger looking of the two men sat, leaning against the back of his chair, slightly slouched, with his foot on his opposite knee drink in his hands held low, wrists resting on his legs. He talked animatedly, smiling regularly, lifting a hand every now and again to gesture along with his story.
The woman, who sat to his left, had a more rigid posture, but anyone who knew her would know, that for her, she was relaxed. Her back was straight, but her left leg was crossed over her right and her whole body was turned slightly towards the man talking. She held her drink, in both hands, high, almost at chest height, looking over her cup at the younger man. Although she seemed expressionless, she gave him her full attention. Even when she lifted her cup to take a sip, she did not take her eyes off him. Occasionally they would catch each others eye and hold the gaze for just a fraction longer than would be expected. Every now and again she would raise an eyebrow and make a comment in response to something the young man was saying. Usually this would cause him to tip his head back and laugh or grin impishly at her.
Opposite the woman sat the older man. Seat pulled up against the table, feet planted firmly on the deck, mug on the table, hands cupped loosely around it. Mostly looking at the younger man, listening to him speak. His face was also largely expressionless, but sometimes, in response to what the younger man was saying or the woman's riposte, he would give a small, fleeting smile, looking down as he did, as if his smiles were something that should be kept secret from everyone but himself. Occasionally he would look between the couple, as if noting the glances and the small expressions that seemed to indicate a second private conversation was going on between them and, recognising their obvious affection for each other, the corners of his mouth would twitch in another secret smile.
Archer was mesmerised. He had a strange feeling as he looked at them, like he was looking at the past and the future at the same time. He could see them for exactly what they were: a family; Trip, T'Pol and their son, Lorian.
Captain Archer came across Commander Tucker leaving Sick Bay when he was on the way to quarters for a quick shower, while T'Pol and the engineering staff made the final adjustments to the ship for the jump through the vortex. "Trip," He said with a smile slapping him on the back. "How are you feeling?"
Trip gave him a grin "I feel like I've been shot with a phase pistol, I'm pretty sure you know how that feels, Cap'n."
Archer had to give a chuckle. "I seem to recall some recent experience with that. Not your average family reunion, is it?"
Trip gave a wry smile in return. "You could say that. I think I'm going to have to give that boy a good talking to."
John nodded and gave Trip a sly grin. "I don't know, Trip, it may be something to do with his father, there seems to be a lot of that sort of thing going on in his family at the moment." He paused and gave Trip a faux thoughtful look. I can't help but think he wasn't raised right. Personally, I blame the parents."
Trip laughed out loud at the captain's teasing. "You might have to talk to his mother about that, Cap'n, apparently his farther died when he was 14 and she raised him alone." He said, as he took a left and headed off to his quarters.
Archer shook his head in amusement and watched his chief engineer head down the corridor. "I may just do that, Commander."
Trip stopped, turned around and smirked at Archer. "You're a braver man than me then, Cap'n. All I ask is that you let me be there when you do. Give me some warning though, so I can bring some beers and popcorn." He turned and started heading towards his quarters again, calling over his shoulder as he went. "I haven't had much opportunity to see a live sporting event in the last few years. I'm sure it will be entertaining."
Archer shook his head and laughed as he continued on to his own quarters. It had been a long time since he had some friendly banter like that with Trip. In the last month a dark cloud seemed to have lifted off the Chief Engineer and he'd started to show more and more of his old sunny nature. The months after his sister's death had been a like a black hole for Trip, sucking all the light out of him. Archer had to acknowledge he'd distanced himself from his old friend during that time. As much as he hated doing it, it had been out of necessity. He just hadn't had the mental and emotional reserves to do what needed to be done to save Earth and prop up his grieving friend. He was also aware the situation with clone, Sim, had affected the closeness of their relationship.
He knew that the relationship between T'Pol and Trip had changed during their time in the expanse but he just couldn't put his finger on exactly what was different. They still bickered over technical issues. Trip still tried to confuse her with idiom. T'Pol would never pass up the opportunity to slip the word 'logical' into a conversation knowing how it riled him and clearly T'Pol still hadn't told him her age. But there was an ease between them that was absent from their interactions with other crew members. They worked almost as a unit. They stood a little closer to each other, were able to communicate with a look or a gesture, they were able to anticipate each other. They seemed, somehow, more intimate without ever touching.
As Captain, he had been fully briefed by Dr Phlox about the neuro-pressure and its benefits for both his senior officers and, up until a couple of days ago, he had considered their new closeness to be a harmless side effect of those sessions. Then he met their 100 year old son and suddenly he found himself re-evaluating their interactions. A year ago he would put them in the 'least likely to marry each other' category of the yearbook. Now, looking at them with fresh eyes, sometimes it was almost like they already were.
It was late as Archer headed to the mess to get a drink before hitting the rack for a couple of hours sleep. It had been, to put it mildly, a very strange day. He thought about Karyn, his supposed great granddaughter. He didn't even know if she had existed now, and there was no chance to meet her great grandmother, his once-upon-a-time wife, because she had been born over 100 years ago, lived a completely different life to the one Karyn knew and, he assumed, died many years ago. Truthfully, he hadn't felt a great connection to Karyn Archer, it was hard to think of her being related to him, with her alien features and dark colouring. Lorian was another matter. The child of his two senior officers, it hadn't been hard to look for, and find, each of them in his face and personality.
As he walked into the mess hall he was surprised to find said senior officers, sitting at the same table he had seen them at earlier that day with Lorian. They were both sitting so differently from their earlier posture it was like he was looking at two different people. Trip was sitting in the same seat, chair pulled up to the table, both feet tucked under his chair, forearms resting on the table, hands loosely cupped around his mug, gaze fixed on the table, a shattered expression on his face. T'Pol was sitting in the seat Lorian had occupied earlier, back ridged, hands resting in her lap, gazing blankly out the window into space, her expression as unreadable as ever. Suddenly, Trip lifted his head up, sniffed, swiped a hand over his mouth and muttered some comment to T'Pol as he returned his hand to the table. In the dimmed light of the mess, Archer thought he could see a glistening in Trip's eyes. In response, T'Pol turned her head and gazed into his eyes for a moment before she reached out her hand and placed it over one of his. Trip closed his hand over her fingers and squeezed. They looked into each other's eyes for slightly longer than a moment, before Trip dropped his head again and T'Pol resumed staring out the window. They did not let go of each other's hands.
Archer decided he could make do with a glass of water from his bathroom and left them to their quiet grief.