Fur and Fathers

Chapter Twenty-Three

They stayed there for another three weeks.  It was longer than they’d intended to, but somehow the days slid together and there seemed no particular hurry to leave.  Even the Skaira seemed to accept them – mostly, though one or two remained obdurately distant.  The weather conspired to lure them to linger; day after day was mild and sunny, though the hours of daylight were stealthily shortening.  It had been too long since any of them had had the chance to simply lie back and experience living, and while the offer was there they made the most of it.  Grenyal in particular was earnest in her wish to continue her supervision of T'Pol’s pregnancy – having been the one to discover and announce it gave her a proprietary interest in it – and Trip was more than happy for her to do so.  Lacking Phlox’s expertise, in his view she was certainly the next best thing.  His wife, understanding and to some extent sharing his anxiety that nothing should go wrong, acceded readily to his wish to stay until everything was well under way.  Another Skair Healer (one of Grenyal’s juniors) had confirmed her diagnosis, which went some way toward allaying this anxiety, but it was still not quite as satisfactory as an examination by established, respectable scientific methods.

Events with regard to the pregnancy moved on with reassuring smoothness.  They received reports on every aspect of it as soon as the First Among Healers had leisure to visit her most unusual patient and examine daily developments, including the successful implantation.  Trip was so excited by hearing every detail that it was all his wife could do to prevent him from running off to tell Shiránnor about it immediately, even though she was reasonably sure that the First Priestess would be even more excited about it than he was, if such a thing were possible.

T'Pol herself remained calm; her happiness did not manifest itself in the effervescent way that her husband’s did, but it was nevertheless every bit as great. She did not suffer from morning sickness to any noticeable degree, though she did suffer somewhat from Trip’s determination that she ought to eat extra ‘for the baby’ – she humored him putting extra on her plate, but developed a certain degree of dexterity in slipping the surplus into her napkin when he wasn’t looking, to be disposed of later.  It was somewhat unfortunate that salad items did not usually figure largely on the menu of the average Skair; they were fond of fruit, however, and at this season the forest contained a superabundance of it.  So she contrived, by and large, to maintain a reasonably healthy diet, and found contentment in sitting with Hoshi and watching Agnes Elizabeth Sato-Reed develop and grow more alert.  Her ignorance of what a baby was expected to do at what age was comprehensive, but Trip was a fount of information on that score, since the Tucker family boasted children of various ages and was so close-knit that childrearing was virtually a communal activity.  He adored tickling Agnes and cuddling her, as well as playing games of peek-a-boo that she was far too young yet to derive any noticeable pleasure from; perhaps he just liked seeing the small, puzzled frown, and was looking for the first hint of a half-smile.  Sometimes T'Pol noticed that Hoshi’s smile at his antics was a little touched with sadness, but that was hardly surprising.

It being self-evident that Hoshi’s emotions would be turbulent, from hormones as well as from everything else, T'Pol had been somewhat careful at first about engaging her in conversation.  Emotions were not something that Vulcans were good at dealing with, and she was afraid of accidentally exacerbating the pain that the other woman must be feeling from the loss of her husband; she had only to put herself into Hoshi’s place to understand the magnitude of the deprivation.  She was unsure whether the subject of Malcolm was one that would be better left alone, but soon observed that Trip, with a wisdom that was beyond his years, suffered no such hesitation.  He spoke frankly and freely and naturally about his lost friend whenever it seemed appropriate to do so, treating his memory with affection but no especial reverence; and it was noticeable that the tears this sometimes evoked appeared somehow to leach out a little of the pain of loss.  For all of them, and for Hoshi in particular, the long, slow process of healing was beginning.

Shiránnor stepped back from their family circle almost without their noticing.  She had, it was true, many duties which she did not and could not neglect – hers was no empty title – but she spent a great deal of time with Jon.  After about a week he began walking around the compound with her, saying little at first but looking around with something like the old interest in his surroundings.  Hoshi had taken Agnes to show him, but he had seemed so uncomfortable that she was perplexed and hurt.  “He didn’t even want to look at her,” she said afterwards to Trip.

“No, I guess he didn’t.  Because the way he sees it, he’s the man who took her daddy out to Cheron and got him killed,” said Trip quietly.  “Give him time, Hosh.”

And about a week later, when the four of them were sitting beside the lake having a picnic, and the baby was lying on a specially soft skin just where the tips of the trailing tree-branches waved intriguingly in front of her face, a quiet tread announced the captain’s arrival.  He stopped a few paces away, seeming uncertain of his welcome.

“Jon!  Come an’ sit down!”  Trip looked up and beamed.

Archer looked at the two women, but longest at Hoshi.  “Anyone have any objection?”

“None whatsoever,” said T'Pol serenely.  It was agreeable to see him making progress towards recovery, however slight.

The other woman kept her eyes on the wine goblet she was dangling between her fingers, and said nothing.

“Hoshi?” his voice was very low.  “Hoshi, I … I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry.  If you don’t want me near you I’ll understand.  Just tell me and I’ll go.”

“Oh, Jon.” She looked up at him at last.  “Come and sit down and have a drink.  Malcolm didn’t blame you, nor do I.  You didn’t start the war and you didn’t know what he was going to do, and even if you had you couldn’t have stopped him.  It was just one of those things.”

‘Just one of those things.’  What a way to sum up all that death and devastation, what a sorry précisof the whole damned war.  They could all imagine Malcolm saying it, with that characteristic shrug.

Archer folded up cross-legged.  One of the younger Skaira, seeing him join the group, came hurrying out with another flask of wine and an extra goblet.  He accepted both with a word of thanks, and the youngster flushed and hurried away again.  Although the adults had become accustomed to their visitors to the point where they hardly seemed to remember they weren’t part of the community, the younger ones (especially the cubs) still regarded them with disproportionate awe.

After a long, awkward silence, Jon was the first to speak.  “Where’s Shran?”

“Havin’ himself a little shore leave up north.  Been rotatin’ the crew down, apparently.  Feels just like a home away from home, from what he said.”  Trip grinned.  “I’d have expected him to be gettin’ antsy long before now, but for some reason he doesn’t seem to mind.  Must be gettin’ lazy in his old age.”

“Hmm.  Now that I’d like to see.  And you’ll have to tell me sooner or later how you persuaded him to come here in the first place.”

“Well you’d never believe it, but under all that bluster, he actually does have a heart.  Just don’t tell him I told you.”

“He came here for nothing?”

“Well, not exactly.  Now that I come to think of it, there was some mention of us owin’ him a ship between us.”  Tucker grinned again and shrugged.  “Though I’m not convinced he’s actually expectin’ us to pay up anytime soon.”

Archer looked thoughtful.  “When I get back I’ll have to see if I can pull a few strings with the Andorian government.  At the last meeting there were a few heavy hints that I was wasted on a starship.  If I get an admiral’s stripes they ought to be good for something.”  He cocked an eyebrow.  “By the way, mind explaining exactly what Starfleet thinks I’m doing here?  I’m sure you came up with an explanation.”

T'Pol outlined the story briefly.  When she’d finished he shook his head incredulously.  “It almost makes me wish I’d been awake to see it.  I don’t know how you got away with it.”

“We haven’t, yet,” said Trip drily.  “But if we can get back there with you up to full speed, we may get away without seein’ the inside of a prison cell.”

“Why should you be made to pay?  I had the message about a possible second attack.  It was my duty to investigate it, but luckily for everyone it turned out to be unfounded.  You just came along because I ordered you to, to make running repairs and upgrades to Hath to get the best speed out of her, and T'Pol came along for scientific backup.”

“It appears we are not alone in being able to fabricate plausible untruths on demand,” remarked the Vulcan, faintly bemused.

“And we can ‘collect Hoshi from Enterprise’ on the way home to Earth.”  The captain studiously hadn’t looked at the baby all this time.  Now he glanced almost apprehensively in her direction, and at Hoshi.  “May I?”

“Go ahead.”

It was plain to them all that the movement took some effort on his part.  He looked down at Agnes for a long moment before he lifted her and held her face to face.

The baby had obviously been contented with the view of the leaves and the sky, for she frowned at the change of scenery.  She made no complaint, however.  She was a quiet child who rarely made a fuss.

“Agnes.  I’m your Uncle Jonathan.”  He took a deep breath.  “Your dad was one of the finest officers in Starfleet.  But more to the point, he was one of the bravest men I ever knew, and I’m just so sorry you’ll never grow up knowing him.  But if your mom doesn’t mind, I’ll come and visit you and tell you about him, because if it wasn’t for him none of us would be here.  Would you like that?”

The frown faded.  The dark eyes studied him curiously.  A chubby hand wavered in the direction of his face, and, finding his nose almost by accident, patted it gently.

“Looks like she’d like that fine,” said Trip softly.

“And I’d like that too, Jon,” Hoshi added in a quiet voice as he settled Agnes in the crook of his arm.  She shuffled sideways a little and leaned against him, and after a moment his free arm slipped around her shoulders rather tentatively.

“Just because you’ve left Starfleet, Hoshi, that doesn’t mean you’re not part of the crew any more.  Once an officer on Enterprise, always an officer on Enterprise – that’s the way I see it.”

“That’s fine with me.”  She sighed and laid her head on his shoulder.  “Come and see us as often as you like.  As long as you don’t mind the transatlantic flights.”

“You’re staying in England?” He was startled, and showed it.

“Yes.  For a few years, anyway.  It’s a long story.  Maybe I’ll tell you one day.”

“I’ll look forward to that,” he said gently.  “Whenever you’re ready.”

“By the way, Jon.”  Trip spoke up into a pause that seemed somehow loaded with things that weren’t going to be said.  “T'Pol and I have some news for ya.”

Archer’s brow cocked inquiringly again.

With a big grin, the engineer leaned over and patted his wife’s stomach.  “Phlox is out of a job.”

Delight and amazement spread over his friend’s face.  “Well, congratulations, both of you!”  Smiling, Hoshi took the baby back while bear-hugs were exchanged.  Even T'Pol was made the recipient of a kiss on the cheek in deference to her Vulcan sensibilities; for a moment she feared that he was going to hug her too, but he restrained himself with an evident effort.  “How on Earth did you manage that?”

“On Earth we might not have managed it.”  Her faint emphasis on the second word made him look rather curious, but she did not enlighten him.  If he had not heard about what they had done, as apparently he had not, she did not feel comfortable discussing the fact that they had made love in a supposedly sacred waterfall.  Perhaps Trip might choose to be more informative later, in private and in general terms, but that was his decision.

“Though you do realize the ruckus this is going to cause,” said the captain with a smile, sitting down again and filling his goblet with the obvious intention of proposing a toast.  “I know you said you were going to go public, but this is a hell of a way to do it.”

“Well, anyone that doesn’t like it can lump it.”  Trip topped up his own drink and poured water for his wife.  “So what’re we drinkin’ to?”

Archer lifted the cup and looked around at them all.  “There’s only one toast I can think of that pretty well sums up everything I want to drink to.

“The crew of the Enterprise and all their loved ones – past, present and future.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

And they all did.