Title: Herculean Tasks - Chapter 4 - Relatively Speaking

Category: gen, het

Rating: T

Pairings: Future Davenport/Goddard. "Goddenport" if you will.

Summary: After the events of "It's My Birthday Too (Yeah!)" T.J. and Seth come to terms with the significance of their inclusion to the crew and try to figure out what it means for them going forward.

Disclaimer: I don't own Space Cases.

Chapter 4: Relatively Speaking

She was trying.

Seth knew T.J. was trying: she was trying to be better, but she was also trying his patience. She had the students' best interests at heart, but she was going about things the wrong way with what seemed to be an ineffective "tough love" approach. Each of the students had come to Seth individually to complain about T.J.'s strict, forceful, and cold attitude lately. One of them—though no one would confess who—had retaliated by remixing the atmosphere in T.J.'s quarters with helium, leaving her voice absurdly high-pitched and prompting the kids to make quacking sounds when she entered the room. The prank grew tiresome, and T.J. was stuck with her cartoonish duck voice over a period of three days. During days two and three, she opted to use a type-and-speak program on her compupad, which only served to make her sound like a robot. By this point, the kids had started making all sorts of odd beeping and booping sound effects, which annoyed Seth, angered T.J., and confused Thelma.

In an effort to be nicer to T.J., Rosie and Bova had made her a batch of fudge as a peace offering, with the hopes that their teacher would start treating them with more respect if they showed her some. Unfortunately for T.J., the bottle of marshmallow sauce they'd been searching for looked exactly like the bottle of glue Thelma had misplaced, and T.J. had ended up with her mouth glued shut.

Seth had allowed himself to think it was a rather fitting punishment considering T.J.'s recent behavior, but quickly scolded himself. T.J. meant well. He knew she did.

But it would have been so easy.

Seth could have vented to T.J., telling her exactly how he felt about how harsh she'd been on the kids. And he had the chance to tell her everything he knew about the corruption back home without her interrupting.

"You know, Miss Davenport, I've had a few things I've been meaning to tell you," he'd announced.

As he'd crossed to her other side to begin his diatribe, Thelma had freed her, and she'd been able to speak again. The glare she'd given him was one for the record books.

"But they can wait," he'd decided.

She'd accused him of enjoying her pain entirely too much. "Oh those kids. When I get my hands on them, I'll—"

"Show them that no good deed goes unpunished?" Seth finished, bitterly. She'd hit a huge nerve, and she needed to know it. "You can call me the worst teacher in the galaxy, but even I know what lessons you shouldn't teach."

She'd huffed at him and had the decency to look ashamed of herself as she declared, "You've picked a miserable time to be right about something."

Space help him.

It would have been so easy.

After their tiff, Seth noticed a change in T.J. again, this time a complete 180 with the children. When Catalina's imaginary friend Suzee "disappeared" a few weeks later, T.J. had come to him with her concerns.

"Catalina has finally stopped talking to her imaginary friend, and you're upset?" Seth had asked after a long day of engineering work, for which no one seemed thankful.

He needed to sort through his thoughts, so he'd bid T.J. goodnight without further conversation. She'd stopped him, thrusting a pile of dishes into his hands and using his own words against him, " 'Everyone has to do their fair share,' Commander Goddard."

Seth wondered if T.J.'s attitude was the result of an overcorrection in her attempt at being nicer to the crew. As annoying as it was for him, it was slightly...maternal? But if T.J. was serving as the students' mother, then what did that make him? The answer was obvious, of course, but he wasn't prepared to acknowledge it quite yet.

And so as he pondered this at the end of another long day, he found himself entering the Christa's galley, immediately walking past the food wheel machine and to the beverage dispensary. He stared at the mechanism on the wall, lost in thought.

From what he'd gathered, the day had started ordinarily enough, but then T.J. assigned the students a report on their ancestry, and things snowballed from there. With little accurate information available to the general public about the differences in Andromedan culture, there was no way for her to know that Andromedans didn't have families in the traditional way that humans or Rigelians did. Radu had been raised in the Collective in the Proxima colony with no identifiable parents. He'd been hatched from an egg in a hatchery and raised in the equivalent of an orphanage, as all Andromedans were. He'd not yet reached adulthood, so he had no idea what was expected of him as he grew older. At least, that was what Seth understood. While serving in the STARDOGS, he was told Andromedans didn't burden their children with expectations of adulthood and what it meant to become a productive member of their society until they reached maturity. Seth supposed there was something to be said for allowing kids to be kids in some respects. And then he'd told Harlan what little he knew of the Collective structure and inadvertently made a mess of things. He assumed Radu had claimed to share a birthday with Bova to fit in and feel normal.

Normal.

What did that word even mean anymore?

Nothing about their current situation was "normal." And these poor kids are stuck with me as a role model, Seth lamented.

"Don't suppose you'd be willing to provide something a little stronger than coffee?" he asked the ship.

After a few seconds of grinding and gurgling, the beverage dispensary spat out a tiny mug and then filled it with hot brown liquid. Seth tentatively took a sip and made a face as the bitter drink assaulted his taste buds.

"Espresso? Not quite what I had in mind at this hour, but thanks."

He trudged over to the colorful dining table and took a seat. The doors parted behind him, but he didn't turn to acknowledge the visitor. He stared into his overly-caffeinated beverage lost in thought and didn't register T.J.'s presence until she sat down next to him and rested her hand on his shoulder.

"Commander? Are you quite alright?" she asked gently. "You look like you're light-years away."

He sighed, not quite knowing where to begin. His mouth opened and closed a few times, but no words came out. He offered a shrug and a sigh of defeat as his reply.

"I can leave you alone with your thoughts, if you'd prefer," T.J. proposed, standing to leave. "But if there is anything you would like to discuss, my door is always open."

"I'm a dad," he said to the table.

T.J. stopped in her tracks and turned to face him with wide eyes and an ache in her chest. Whatever she had been expecting him to say, it wasn't that. "I, um, I was not aware that you had children," she said once she'd found her voice.

"Huh? Oh! No, no. I mean I have these kids: the students," he quickly clarified, finally meeting her eyes. "It's just that all the talk of family today made me realize, as much as Radu considers us his family, I consider him—and all the kids—a part of mine, too. I wasn't given much of a choice in the matter, but we're more than just a crew out here. We're a family. And that makes me...a father."

T.J. smiled sympathetically as she reclaimed her seat. "I recently came to a similar realization regarding being akin to a mother," she revealed.

"It's scary," Seth admitted. "I don't know how to be a dad. I never thought I would be one, and now I've suddenly got five kids!"

"Five is a few more than I'd considered for myself," T.J. said, wringing her hands. Giving the matter another moment of thought, she frowned and mused, "I suppose transitioning from the role of disciplinarian to mother isn't too far a stretch under the circumstances."

"T.J., you're more than just the disciplinarian. You're becoming more patient with them, more nurturing." He smiled. "I saw the pride on your face earlier when you realized Radu saved that creature's life, like it was one of the greatest things you'd ever witnessed."

"I do believe it was," T.J. agreed.

"I thought there was going to be a baby Andromedan on this ship for half a minute, and I nearly had a heart attack," Seth confessed, shaking his head.

"I was not going to mention it, but you did look rather terrified."

"Fantastic," he deadpanned.

She took pity on him. "Oh, Seth. Even if there had been another child to consider, we would have managed."

"It would have been a lot of managing." He took a chance and asked, "At the risk of undermining crew confidence for a second time today, may I tell you something?"

T.J. cocked her head to the side. Her curiosity outweighed her apprehension, so she gave him an encouraging nod. "Of course."

"I don't think I can be a commander and a father to this crew."

She frowned at him. "Where is this doubt coming from? You've done extraordinarily well so far."

"I can't do both at once: the responsibilities of one are at odds with the other." He pressed on, explaining, "When we get a distress signal, the STARDOG Code says it's mandatory to answer. As a commander—under normal circumstances with a standard crew—I'd follow procedure, answer the call, and send a small search party to investigate. With the kids, I'd likely be leading them into danger. I've lost crewmates before, and that kind of pain and guilt is something I never want to experience again." His voice grew gravelly as he remembered the names and faces of those brave people and their grieving families, "The men and women who died on my watch were trained officers who knew the risks. But if I lost one of our kids... The kind of pain that would come with that? I've seen it, and I still can't even begin to fathom..." His voice finally broke, and he hung his head as tears stung his eyes.

T.J. inhaled sharply. Her eyes were watery as well. "Our kids," she repeated.

Seth bit the inside of his cheek and nodded. "Mmhmm."

She reached over to squeeze his hand. "Seth..."

"Space hates weakness," he mumbled.

"Caring about people is not a weakness," T.J. refuted. "On the contrary. Allowing yourself to care for all of us so deeply is one of the bravest things you could possibly do."

He wiped his eyes, gathered the courage to look at her again, and observed, "You're surprisingly calm about all of this."

"I would not say 'calm' is the word for it. However I did have more time to process the revelation of sudden parenthood. Rosie accidentally called me Mum—or rather 'Mom' as she pronounced it—about a week ago during class," T.J. explained. "She was so embarrassed, she overheated and set off the sprinkler system."

"Poor kid." Seth narrowed his eyes in realization. "So that's why Harlan showed up for Command Post duty wearing swim trunks and floaties."

T.J. raised her eyebrows. She hadn't heard about that. "I should imagine he did it at Rosie's expense. The conditions in my classroom were not severe enough to warrant such attire."

"I made him go change, and I gave him two demerits."

T.J. nodded in approval before moving on, "Harlan's antics aside, the incident caused me to spend the rest of the day evaluating what Rosie's slip of the tongue truly meant for me, and indeed for all of us and the crew dynamic."

Seth remembered, "You missed dinner once last week."

"Yes, well, the breakdown that resulted from my revelation was quite spectacular."

"You should've told me. I would have tried to help."

T.J. brushed off his concern. "I did not want to worry you. I've been dealing with anxiety and panic attacks all my life. Alone, for the most part."

"That doesn't have to be the case anymore," Seth told her, gently.

T.J. fidgeted in her seat, looking everywhere but at him as she tried to make light of the situation. "Next time I wind up hysterical, I shall try to keep that in mind."

Seth dropped that particular thread of conversation, noticing her discomfort. He opted to add to the levity instead. "Bet you never thought you'd be co-parenting with me, eh?" He playfully nudged T.J. and caught her blushing. "Are you going to set off the sprinkler system? Your face is almost as red as your hair."

"Goodness." T.J. ducked her head to hide her face as a smile bloomed without her permission. When her cheeks were no longer burning and she finally looked Seth in the eyes, she was shocked by the adoration directed at her. "If I may also offer a truth?"

Their hands were still clasped on the table: a fact Seth realized when T.J. started absentmindedly running her thumb back and forth over his knuckles. He nodded his assent as he felt a sudden wave of something wash over him: slight trepidation and self-pity followed by an odd sense of relief and...joy? He didn't dare look at their joined hands, afraid it would draw attention to T.J.'s actions and she'd finally retreat in embarrassment. He found he didn't want to lose that contact.

T.J. looked down anyway, and her hand went limp. Seth's anxiety was palpable as he tightened his grip, and she took the nonverbal cue and squeezed his hand back, offering a small encouraging smile as she did so. Her voice was genuine and reassuring when she told him, "However accidental our inclusion may have been on this strange journey, I am honored to be a part of this family."

Seth nodded. He swallowed thickly and agreed, "Same."

While they did not always agree, they had made great progress in such a short amount of time. The realization that they had come to read each other without speaking a word made for a confusing combination of apprehension and relief.

As they contemplated this simultaneously, yet separately, Seth continued feigning nonchalance, "Y'know my dad isn't much of a role model, but yours is. James is more of a father to me than my own."

T.J. nodded. "I suspected as much. You are like a son to him, you know."

"I've been thinking about him a lot lately. He'd know what to do out here. More and more, I find myself wondering how he'd handle the crazy situations we get into. He was always there for me, even after my demotion. I still called him when I needed advice about...anything, really. We'd talk, and then he'd call back a few days later to check up on me. It was nice having that support: nice to know I wasn't a complete screw-up."

T.J. was quick to apologize, "I am deeply sorry for those times it was I who made you feel like a screw-up, as you say. It was wrong of me to have passed judgment so quickly."

"No, you were fine. It's everyone else that made me feel like a failure: they heard the stories and wrote me off. Any friends I'd made while in the STARDOGS went radio silent, and the Starcademy staff hated me. You only called me out on my bullshit when it was warranted. Your dad did the same. You both wanted me to be a better version of myself instead of wallowing and throwing myself a pity party. I'm not sure I realized that at the time, but it's obvious looking back now." He gave her a lopsided smirk. "Like father, like daughter."

T.J. rolled her eyes, but smiled.

"I miss him." Seth admitted. "Is that weird for me to say?"

"Not at all. I miss him too."

"But he's your dad. He doesn't owe me anything. There were times I felt uncomfortable relying on him as much as I did. And I still owe him so much for everything he's done to help me over the years. I don't think I could ever repay him."

"I should think getting us all home safely would be sufficient enough," T.J. declared.

"What if I can't?"

"We have already determined you are not shouldering the burden on your own."

"But what if...?"

T.J. looked away for a brief second before checking her posture, sitting up straight and feigning confidence. "Father might not be here, but you have the next best thing: another Davenport to give you advice and tell you when you're being stubborn. Someone has to keep you in line, and I do not intend to stop doing so anytime soon." She relaxed after she made her point, admitting, "I can be stubborn as well, you see."

"Nah, not stubborn. Determined," Seth decided, recalling their conversation the day they'd left Starcademy. "One of your best qualities."

"And yours." She smiled, recalling the initial exchange as well. " 'Best to pick a name that makes it sound like a strength rather than a weakness.' "

The two of them were content to resume their usual repertoire of insults and compliments veiled in banter: business as usual after a rather emotional conversation. The verbal sparring had gained a rather affectionate undercurrent that was noticed by both but not outwardly acknowledged by either of them.

He narrowed his eyes in thought. "Thank you for not giving up on me. I gave you hell, and—"

"I'm stubborn, remember?"

"Determined." He took a breath and took a chance. "I'm glad it's you."

"Pardon?"

And he was glad for a number of reasons. Yes, T.J. was the best equipped to assist in teaching the students, and yes Seth enjoyed her company, and yes she kept him in check. But in spite of all the insane things they'd encountered on their trip, Seth believed he was better equipped to keep her safe now out in deep space. He'd been out of his element at the Starcademy, trying to juggle his teaching responsibilities with his military career with his promise to James. On the Christa, at least he felt like he knew what he was doing...most of the time. And on the Christa, T.J. was away from members of a corrupt bureaucracy who intended to use or harm her.

"Out here. With me. I'm glad it's you," he clarified.

T.J. scoffed and brushed off the compliment. "It could have very well been the Headmistress," she said with a laugh.

He didn't laugh along. "It never would've been her. It would have only been someone who cared: it was either you or no one at all."

"Then it would have always been me. Every time." If she'd stayed behind and Seth and the students had vanished, she never would have forgiven herself. "But the students' poor parents probably think…"

Seth cared about the kids as if they were his own, but a part of him almost felt ashamed: that he had no right to think of them that way. Not when their families back home probably already feared the worst and were grieving the loss of their sons and daughters.

"Do you think Father knows we are alright?" T.J. whispered.

Seth gave her a tearful smile and deflected, "With you to keep me in line? Yeah. He knows we're better than alright. He knows we're safe. He knows you're..."

"In good hands?"

"I was going to say 'giving me hell when I deserve it.' "

"Of course. But only then."

"Yeah. Only then."

"Do you feel a bit better?" T.J. wondered. "I hope our discussion did not make matters worse."

"I'm still scared as hell," Seth admitted honestly. He looked down at their hands again. "But I guess we can be scared as hell together, and that's...oddly comforting, I guess?"

"I am not completely sure, but I'd imagine that feeling comes with the job."

"So you're saying we're doing something right?"

T.J. squeezed his hand. "I do believe we are."

"High praise coming from you."

"It is well-deserved." A beat, then, "Father did seem to think we would work well together if we could put our differences aside. I imagine he'd be pleased to know that we are proving him right."

Seth noticed her blushing and smirked, revealing, "He'd said something similar to me. Repeatedly, in fact."

T.J. shook her head and smiled fondly. "I love him dearly, but he does tend to meddle. Is that perhaps how you knew my standard tea order?"

Seth laughed. "James did tell me, but I already knew." He shrugged. "I do pay attention sometimes."

"He encouraged me to bring a black coffee to our next scheduled meeting together," she revealed.

"Hmm, and were you going to?"

"I might have done. But I suppose we will never know," she playfully fired back, staring at his mug. "Speaking of which, what in the universe are you doing drinking caffeine at this hour? Don't you ever want to get to sleep?"

Seth gave her a lopsided smirk. "Alright, Mom."

T.J. rolled her eyes and huffed, looking a bit hurt as she muttered, "Oh, honestly."

"I think you'd make a great one, if that helps."

T.J.'s heart fluttered before sinking. "This is the closest I will ever come to motherhood: out here with the students. But thank you."

"No. We'll make it home, and you'll find someone to settle down with, and then you can have insanely intelligent children with adorable accents and impeccable manners."

T.J. was about to contradict him, but instead found herself cocking her head to the side as she realized, "Did you just say 'adorable accents'?"

Busted. Seth winced. "No?"

"Intelligent and adorable, you said?"

"Don't read too much into it. For all you know, I was thinking those qualities would come from the kids' hypothetical father."

She blushed and then cleared her throat as she shook off the haze of emotion threatening to cloud her judgment once more. She tried to be casual and matter-of-fact when she stated, "For what it's worth I think you would make an excellent father, if that is something you'd want for yourself. Perhaps you'd be an overly-permissive parent..."

"You mean 'fun-loving,' right?"

T.J. rolled her eyes but sounded defensive when she asked, "What would that make me?"

"Protective," Seth automatically replied. "Maybe I could do with being a little more like that."

"I suppose I should learn to put a little less pressure on myself and the students." She shook her head. "Goodness, I should have known better than to ask Radu to complete a family tree. It was not my intention to set him up for failure. I was informed that the Andromedan government had not yet sent his family history. It never occurred to me that there had been some sort of miscommunication: that the information simply did not exist." She paused, thinking back to earlier, "But it occurred to you."

"While I was serving in the war, we were given some intel about Andromedans," though he left out the qualifier, "as our enemies." He sighed. "It was wrong of me to offer up that information to Harlan. I should have gone to Radu and asked. The STARDOGS didn't know everything. But you know what they say about hindsight. I'm just glad Radu doesn't harbor any hard feelings."

"Toward you," T.J. finished. "He gave Harlan a rather firm handshake earlier." She worried her lip. "I am curious about what you were told regarding Andromedan culture and their newly-established government. I'd tried to inquire after Radu's missing intake forms on several occasions, but the rest of the Board gave me the runaround. I suspect Radu's admittance to the Starcademy was not completely by-the-book."

Seth rubbed the back of his neck and stared down at the table. "I wouldn't be surprised if the school fast-tracked him. Good press and all that," was all he offered.

"Not all of it was good. I'm certain you remember many people were determined to make Radu's life difficult, to say the least."

"Can we not talk about this now?" Seth requested. "Can't we save that discussion for—?"

"Later?" T.J. finished. "I haven't forgotten."

"You never will."

"So when will 'later' be, exactly?"

He shrugged. "I dunno. Sometime within the next six years and change?"

T.J. held up a hand in surrender. "Just promise me you won't allow whatever it is to eat away at you in the meantime. It cannot be healthy to bottle everything up, and I am afraid you are stuck with me as your only sounding board for a while."

"Not stuck. I'm grateful," Seth admitted honestly. "But let's leave it for later. Please?"

"I suppose there is no point in arguing, is there?"

"Nah. I'm determined, too. Remember?"

T.J. narrowed her eyes but was unable to stop the smile that quickly spread across her face. "Quite."