Rating: PG-13 for Angst

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Author's note: Angst, Angst and some angst on top that for good measure. But there's only one more chapter to go, so hang tight.

Chapter 9

The little house on Ceti Alpha V had proved a surprisingly comfortable place for T'Pol to wait for the birth of her daughter. The natural light and fresh air proved a welcome change, and she was grateful to no longer have the burden of being captain.

Around the fifth month of her pregnancy, Dr. Sanders had determined it would be safer for T'Pol to spend the remaining weeks before the birth planetside, given that the gravity there was more Vulcan-like and healthier for the child.

After a week or so of solitude, T'Pol suggested that Archer be allowed to join her. Trip had at first balked at the idea, citing the extra stress, but T'Pol had argued that it would give her something to occupy her mind and allow her to feel useful. When the first few days had gone smoothly, Trip had reluctantly agreed to allow Archer to stay with her until the baby was born. Since Trip couldn't be there for her, he was glad that she at least had someone to talk to during those long days.

As she fed Porthos his morning meal, Archer came up behind her. As the weeks passed, she found her friendship with her former superior officer evolving into something almost like kinship. She imagined that this would be what it would be like to have a sibling.

"I'm not the father, am I?"

Not quite like a sibling, she thought.

"No," she said, "but you ask that every day. And no, it's not your concern who is."

"The father must be a Vulcan, then," said Archer.

T'Pol sighed but she said nothing.

T'Pol had learned to deal with these questions, and she had strangely become grateful for them. Once she could no longer hide her condition, she and her child gave Archer something to focus on besides the terrible situation they had found themselves in.

"You look about ready to drop that kid," said Archer.

"My date is set for two weeks from now," she said, "I will return to the ship, as the doctor has all her medical equipment there."

"You must be excited," said Archer.

"I am grateful the child appears healthy, and I look forward to her birth," said T'Pol without emotion.

****

For his part, Trip had gotten used to the transporter. He beamed down to the surface as often as he could, checking up on T'Pol and pretending that everything was normal. Part of him hoped she would change her mind about sending the baby to Vulcan, but deep down he knew better. During those visits, he focused on T'Pol and the baby's physical well-being and spoke of little else. The bond between them still existed, would always exist, but it had become a source of pain rather than solace. When he wasn't with her, he poured all his energy into being captain.

Making matters worse, Amanda had given birth to a healthy baby boy, and although Malcolm was doing his best not to show his joy when he was around Trip, he wasn't doing a very good job.

"It's okay, Mal," he said, "I'm happy that you're happy."

"I know it's none of my business, but are you sure she won't change her mind?"

Trip rubbed his face with his hands. He felt enormously tired, and he had gained new respect for both Archer and T'Pol in the last few months. It wasn't easy being captain, and the situation with T'Pol only added to the sense that he was slowly being ripped apart.

"Honestly, Mal, I don't think I'd let her change her mind. If the baby was human, that would be different. But T'Pol's right. It isn't logical to raise her here."

Malcolm sighed.

"Well," said Malcolm, "You're handling it well. . . I don't know what I'd do if there was a safe place I could send Lily and Gavin - where I'd know for certain they'd live to grow up. . . go off to university. . .have children of their own. Every day when I send Lily off to school, three decks away, I remind myself it might be the last time I see her."

Trip was silent.

"When does T'Pol's mother arrive?" asked Malcolm.

"Next week," sighed Trip.

****

Two days before her mother was to arrive, T'Pol returned to Enterprise in a little ship that the colonists used to transport people up to the starships in orbit. Hoshi had agreed to stay on the surface with Archer so T'Pol could focus all her energies on the birth. Alone, Trip met her at the airlock and took her bag from her.

"Where will I be staying?" asked T'Pol, assuming she would lodge in sickbay.

"There's plenty of room for you in the captain's quarters," said Trip, softly, "I'd like to spend as much time with her as I can . . .before."

T'Pol nodded, and they walked in silence toward Trip's new quarters. After they arrived, the pair stood awkwardly for a few moments, and then T'Pol spoke.

"We have been calling the child 'her' for months now. She needs a name," said T'Pol, "and you should be the one to give it to her."

Trip put a hand on her stomach. He had felt the child kick many times, and through the bond, he had sensed her mind coming into sentience. He knew that she liked it when her mother listened to jazz and that she preferred it when her mother drank chamomile tea instead of mint tea.

"I don't know many Vulcan names," sighed Trip.

"You may consult that Vulcan database," suggested T'Pol.

Trip thought for a moment.

"I think I like T'Mir," he said, "after your foremother who spent time on Earth."

Trip put his hand in T'Pol's.

"I think she approves," he said, "So T'Mir it is."

"It is an agreeable name," said T'Pol sadly.

****

Across the table in the captain's mess, T'Les looked at her daughter coldly, and then she turned to Trip.

"So, Captain Tucker, you are the reason my daughter has disgraced herself. Soval assumed it was Jonathan Archer, but then again, Soval was never very astute about women."

Before Trip could leap to T'Pol's defense, T'Pol lifted a hand and spoke, equally coldly.

"I chose to stay among humans long before I bonded with Trip," said T'Pol and then she looked into Trip's eyes, "He simply made the situation more bearable."

"Do you deny that you would have returned to Vulcan if it were not for this man?"

"Yes," said T'Pol, "So logically, you should deduce that without him I would be dead."

Trip was deeply saddened by this conversation, but not for the obvious reasons. T'Pol and T'Les's tense exchange reminded him so much of his sister and his mother that he almost laughed. Then, he remembered that both his mother and sister were dead. But he figured that only a mother who loved her daughter dearly would come light years into a war zone to see her give birth, only to express her disapproval of the son-in-law.

At least he could comfort himself with the fact that Vulcans were not all that different from humans, despite what they would have everyone believe.

"We've named the girl T'Mir," said Trip.

T'Les thought about this for a moment.

"It is a good name," she said.

"Trip chose it," said T'Pol, sipping on her chamomile tea.

T'Les stared at Trip across the table, and he stared back.

"It does you great honor," said T'Les, "that you are willing to put your daughter's welfare over your own desire for her company, Captain. I can only hope that my granddaughter will inherit that quality."

"T'Pol's giving her up, too," replied Trip.

"Yes," said T'Les, "but that is the Vulcan way. I realize as a human such un-selfishness does not come naturally."

Trip smirked, and he couldn't argue with that. Letting go of T'Mir would be the most unnatural thing he had ever done.

****

Trip thought he would be the one that needed comforting, but after T'Les left with their tiny girl in her arms, it was T'Pol that unraveled. At first, Trip thought she had gone into a deep meditative state, but then he realized that she was nearly catatonic, whispering in Vulcan to herself. He feared for her sanity.

Dr. Sanders sedated her, and Trip carried her back to his quarters where she slept for nearly twenty-four hours.

Thinking it was better to let her be, Trip completed his shift on the bridge and then returned to his quarters to find her awake. He said nothing, but he made her some tea and brought it to her.

"I haven't had mint tea in months," said T'Pol, "because she didn't like it."

"You're a good mother," he said softly, "and she'll always know that."

He took the mug from her shaking hands, and he entwined his fingers into hers. With this Vulcan gesture, he helped her gather up the shreds of her emotional control. He also realized that she would never be the same after this.

At least, he thought sorrowfully, the two of them would always have that in common.