Part Five

The two vessels made for an unlikely couple as they serenely orbited Vandor IV.

On one side, the proud, clean and polished lines of the Ambassador-class USS Erebus cut a noble shape through space. On the other side, the significantly smaller Bounty cut an equally proud but entirely more dishevelled shape. Its hull was the usual checkerboard of different hues and colours of panel from so many years of running repairs.

The Erebus had rendezvoused with its commanding officer as soon as Admiral Jenner had returned to the runabout and signalled Commander T'Ren, while the Bounty's crew had been relieved to return to their own ship, after being filled in on the details of what had transpired.

Jirel stood in the Erebus's brig next to Agent Taylor, as she checked in on the Federation ship's latest passenger for their trip back to Earth.

"Look, the thing is, I was just an innocent patsy in all this, really."

Berlinghoff Rasmussen hadn't gotten far with his escape. Once the immediate temporal crisis had been resolved, it hadn't taken long to track him down inside the research complex.

"You see," he continued from inside the holding cell, "Lester Brooks was a very, very charismatic individual, as I'm sure anyone who met him with attest. And I was just…in his thrall. I'm a—"

"I'm well aware of what you are, Mr Rasmussen," Taylor stepped in patiently to cut off his blurted defence plea, "And I'll make sure that the judge takes that into account at your trial."

The deliberate ambiguity of that response stopped Rasmussen's ramblings on the spot, not entirely sure what the woman in the black jumpsuit meant.

"Oh," he managed eventually, "Um, thank you…?"

With that, she turned away, and Jirel followed her, through the doors of the brig and back out into the comfort of the Erebus's corridors. His brief career cosplaying as a DofTI agent now over, he was dressed in his more usual plain tunic and trousers.

"Um," he offered, "What exactly happened to this Dr Brooks?"

At this question, the Temporal Agent could only offer a shrug.

"Unclear. All we know is he was somehow absorbed by the chroniton meltdown. I've checked over the security footage and sensor logs from the outpost, and a specialist team will be here in a few hours to complete a full analysis. But for the time being, I've noted in my initial report that he was…consumed by his work. Which seemed like a fitting turn of phrase."

Jirel nodded as they walked on down the corridor. He was already feeling how his shoulders felt lighter than they had recently. As if a weight had been lifted from him. Not just over this specific mission, but from his life in general.

"So," he said eventually, gesturing to her uniform, "I take it you don't think there's a future for me at the Department of Temporal Investigations?"

"I'm afraid not. Although your…other self did end up breaking a number of temporal regulations in a very short space of time. So, perhaps you have a future in Starfleet?"

He mustered a wry smile at that. If only she knew the half of it.

"But," she continued, "The good news is that I've formally advised that we don't press any further charges against you, as your other self's proxy."

His face dropped. His spots felt itchy all of a sudden.

"Um, was that an option?"

"Technically speaking, potentially. But my report has noted that, in my considered opinion, the individual responsible for committing the temporal violations is…no longer with us."

He relaxed again and nodded in understanding. They walked on for a few moments, before he decided to ask something that was still playing on his mind.

"So…you and him? I mean…me. I mean…him. I kinda got a bit of a vibe there between you two. Did anything ever—?"

"No," she replied with the tiniest hint of sadness in her voice, "Nothing ever happened. And it never will."

She stopped at an intersection in the corridor and drew herself up more formally.

"Well," she continued, "I need to send my report through to my section head, and then make sure the team is still en route. But it's been a pleasure working with you, Jirel Vincent. And I hope you have a…long and fruitful future."

He thought about the Bounty, suddenly finding himself itching to get back there. And he smiled broadly.

"So do I," he nodded.

For an awkward moment, neither of them quite knew the best way to say goodbye.

But they eventually settled on a handshake.

'*'*'

'*'*'

Admiral Bryce Jenner strode confidently down the corridor.

The various crewmen and officers from the Erebus's staff that passed by made sure to give him a cautious wide berth. He clearly had a destination in mind. And he was clearly unhappy with something.

Most of the crew might not have served with Admiral Jenner for long, but they all instinctively knew it was best to leave him to it when he was unhappy with something.

And knew to hope it wasn't them that he was unhappy with.

He marched all the way down to transporter room two and stepped straight through the doors, already aware of what was happening inside.

"This had better not be an unauthorised transport, Crewman."

The young enlisted officer at the controls looked ashen as she looked back at him, finding herself face to face with her commander for the first time since she had joined the Erebus's crew three weeks ago. Up on the transporter pad, Jirel merely shook his head ruefully. He'd been that close to sneaking off without making a scene.

"Oh, sir," the crewman babbled, "No. Sir. I mean—He said that he'd—"

"I can guess what he said. And I'll take it from here, crewman. You're relieved."

She nodded thankfully and stepped away from the controls, before virtually scurrying across the room and out of the door.

Jirel watched the scene play out with a little confusion, as Jenner approached him.

"Is she just gonna go stand in the corridor?" he asked, gesturing in the direction of where the fearful crewman had just disappeared, "Cos that's…kinda weird."

Jenner ignored the attempted deflection, and kept his focus on the younger man.

"Thought you might have had something to say before you went sneaking off," he grunted.

Jirel sighed in defeat. He knew that he should have tried to find his father before he left the Erebus for good. But after all that had happened, he wasn't quite sure where to start. He felt like he either had too much, or too little to say. So, he'd made an effort to sidestep this particular awkward goodbye entirely. And failed.

"I know," he offered back with a shrug, "I guess it's just…whenever we say goodbye, it tends to be with an argument. Thought we could skip that part this time."

"That the only way you think we can leave on good terms?" Jenner grunted, "If we don't speak to each other?"

Jirel searched for something else, but merely offered another shrug, shuffling awkwardly from foot to foot on the transporter pad. Jenner stood in front of his son for a moment, then appeared to concede defeat, nodding stiffly and stepping back over to the transporter controls.

As he made preparations for the transport, and the room filled with silence, he considered the number of important speeches he'd made in his time. To crews under his command, or enemies on a viewscreen, or to ambassadors around the negotiating table.

None of them had taken as much rehearsing as this one.

"Jirel, I'm sorry."

The Trill on the transporter pad stood in a stunned silence.

"I'm sorry for not being there," the admiral continued, mustering eye contact across the room, "When you were young, I mean. Truth is…I guess I was never much good as a father. Anything good about you came thanks to your mother. Not me. And…I'm sorry."

The old man's jaw clenched slightly as he remembered his wife, but he kept a proud stance.

A thousand different flavours of 'I told you so' sprung into Jirel's head. But he knew this wasn't the time or the place.

"I guess," he said instead, "I'm sorry too. For thirty years of disappointments."

The tension in the room was becoming constricting, and he felt the need to try and relax it.

"Also, I'm sorry cos I couldn't figure out how the reclamator worked on those Starfleet replicators, so I've just been piling up dirty plates in the corner of those guest quarters this whole time—"

"You were never a disappointment."

Jirel was stunned into silence again, as Jenner felt the need to clarify that statement.

"Well…you were sometimes a disappointment. But I saw something different in you on this whole mission. Bravery. Selflessness. Courage. Sacrifice. I see who you are now. And I see that you really could have made it in Starfleet."

Jirel mustered a slight smile, but backed it up with a shake of his head.

"I think we both know better than that. But…if you want to believe it, that's cool."

Jenner nodded, then resumed tapping the transporter controls.

"I take it you answered your question," he offered as he did so, "The one about finding your place in the universe."

"I guess I did. Turns out, I'd already answered it a long time ago. I just…forgot what the answer was."

Jenner paused, his hand hovering over the final control commands. He looked back up at the Trill, the person he was about to send away out of his life all over again.

"You know," he ventured, "I've been thinking. It's been a while, but…I might still have the occasional job for you. And your crew. From time to time."

"Oh," Jirel replied, a little confused, "Really?"

"Possibly. So, I think it might be best if you were to continue to keep me apprised of your movements. Just in case."

Jirel snorted in understanding, recalling the agreement his father and Natasha had struck in the build-up to this fateful mission.

"Right. I guess I'll let Nat know that she's free to keep spying on us—"

"No."

The firmness of the response took Jirel aback. He could have sworn he saw a flicker of emotion through the stoic glare from his father's eyes.

"I think I'd prefer to hear…from my son."

Up on the transporter pad, Jirel felt as though he'd been hit by a phaser blast. He fought off a fresh wave of emotion as he witnessed his father, Starfleet's most uptight and stubborn admiral, invite him back into his life. In his own unique way.

"I can do that," he nodded back with a warm smile, before hurriedly clarifying, "I'm not calling it a captain's log, though."

The flicker of emotion disappeared, replaced by an altogether more traditional Jenner glare.

"You're damn right you're not," he growled, "You want that rank, you have to earn it, mister!"

Jirel stifled a sob of joy with a snort of laughter. That was more like it.

He looked back at his estranged father, now feeling that bit less estranged, and considered how to finish off this unexpectedly happy goodbye. After all, they weren't exactly huggers.

In the end, he opted for what he hoped was something a little more appropriate. And decided to drop the quips. He sobered up, stood as close as he could to attention and fixed his father with a warm gaze.

"Permission to disembark," he signalled back to the officer at the controls, "Sir."

Jenner managed the faintest of nods of appreciation, and tapped the transporter controls.

Once his son had dematerialised entirely, and he was alone, he gripped the edge of the console a little tighter as he steadied himself, and brought his emotions back under control.

And then he turned and headed for the exit.

To allow the young crewman standing awkwardly in the corridor to return to duty.

'*'*'

'*'*'

As soon as he rematerialised inside the Bounty's transporter room, Jirel found himself in the midst of an altogether less formal event.

He had barely stepped off the transporter pad before Denella stepped forward and wrapped him in a warm and thankful hug.

"Welcome back," she smiled, before breaking the hug and looking back at him with a slight edge of caution, "You…are back, right?"

"I'm afraid so," he smiled back at the Orion, "Apparently I was supposed to spend the rest of my life staying out of the way. But…I was never very good at that."

Now it was his turn to pause and look a little warily at the green-skinned woman.

"Um, that's assuming you want me to come back—?"

"Oh god yes," she nodded, "I can't keep the ship, the crew and myself together at the same time. Besides, it's a lot easier getting kidnapped by psychopaths every week when it's not your fault."

Jirel scrunched his face up slightly, not entirely sure how to take that particular comment, as Denella stepped back and Klath stepped up, holding out a burly arm for a handshake.

"It is good to have you back, old friend," he grunted with genuine sincerity.

"Right back at you, big guy," the Trill smiled, even as he was sure he felt his shoulder pop out of its socket from the ferocity of the friendly Klingon handshake.

"Yeah, yeah," Sunek called out from behind the Klingon, "He's back. But let's not kiss his ass too much, ok? All this means is we're gonna have to split the latinum five ways again…"

The Vulcan grinned back at the Trill, before ambling out of the transporter room, as Jirel shook his head patiently at that unique welcome.

"Nice to see you too, Sunek."

Denella and Klath followed the Vulcan out of the door, heading to the Bounty's cockpit. Jirel felt himself tense up slightly as he was left with Natasha.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

He considered the question with the seriousness he felt it needed. But it didn't take long to find his answer.

"I feel good to be back," he replied, almost entirely honestly.

She nodded and smiled, then started towards the door, apparently satisfied with that.

"Hey," he blurted out, causing her to stop on the spot and turn back.

I am so bad at this, he thought to himself with frustration.

"Um," he continued, "You know earlier, when he—I mean, when I—"

He stopped himself and shook his head with a wry smile, thinking about that final moment, just before his old self had disappeared entirely, and composing himself again.

"What did he whisper to you?"

Now it was Natasha's turn to consider a particular question with all seriousness. Eventually, she shrugged.

"Something that I never thought I'd hear you say," she replied, with a modicum of mystery.

She stifled a smile as she saw that this answer didn't seem to make the Trill look any less awkward about the situation. Then, before she really thought about what she was doing, and powered mainly by her relief at his safe return to the ship, she found herself stepping back over to the Trill and planting a kiss on his cheek.

Her brain immediately caught up with what exactly she was doing, and she broke the kiss in an instant, stepping back from the surprised Jirel and doing her best to adopt a significantly more dignified pose.

"Ah," she managed, "It's, um, good to have you back."

With that, and before the Trill could respond, she turned on her heels and walked out of the transporter room as quickly as she could.

I am so bad at this, she thought to herself in frustration.

As the doors closed behind her, Jirel found himself at a loss for words. Not for the first time in the last few chaotic days of his life. He touched his cheek where the kiss had landed, and his smile widened.

It widened even further as he turned around and took in his surroundings. Back inside the familiar confines of the Bounty. The place he should never have left.

Or maybe, the place he had been destined to leave, so he could appreciate it that bit more.

His smile widened even further when he heard the door behind him open again. Wondering if Natasha had returned to continue their surprising moment of closeness.

The smile vanished when he was suddenly and unexpectedly wrapped in a tight bear hug by two spindly but surprisingly strong arms.

"You tell anyone I did this," Sunek muttered from the other side of the hug, "And I will actually murder you in your sleep."

'*'*'

'*'*'

A few moments later, Sunek and Jirel walked into the Bounty's cockpit to find everyone already in position.

"You got here just in time," Denella offered as she gestured to the view out of the cockpit, "Looks like your dad's putting on a fly-by for us."

Jirel gazed out as the vast sight of the Erebus passed over the Bounty momentarily, before expertly pivoting around and heading off away from the planet.

"Man, that's a big ship," the Orion muttered, her engineer's eye following the lines of the Ambassador-class vessel.

Jirel glanced back at her and smiled.

"I've always thought it's what you do with it that counts."

Denella rolled her eyes, as Jirel approached his old, tattered centre chair.

"Speaking of which," he continued, "How about we go find some gainful employment, hmm?"

"And somewhere we can get a decent cocktail," Sunek called out from the pilot's seat.

"There is a neutral port two sectors from here, in the Pallos system," Klath reported from his bank of controls, "I believe that may satisfy…both requirements."

"You heard the man, Sunek," Jirel shrugged, "The Pallos system it is."

"Aye aye, cap'n," the Vulcan drawled as he swung back to his controls.

Jirel sank down into his chair, and appreciated the familiar sensation of being here. Back where he belonged. His place in the universe.

He was home.

The Bounty slowly moved away from the planet below, then swivelled around and took off at warp.

Racing on into the future.