...Touching and Touched - Part 1

...Touching and Touched

by Hopeful Romantic

Rating: mostly PG-13, for language and sensuality. There will be a couple of chapters rated R or NC-17 (depending on which version you’re reading) for sexual situations.
Disclaimer: Star Trek: Enterprise is the property of CBS/Paramount. All original material herein is the property of its author.
Genre: Romance, ensemble, AU
Archive: Trip/T’Polers, thank ya kindly
Website: http://www.geocities.com/hopeful_romantic@prodigy.net
E-mail: Hopeful_Romantic@prodigy.net

Series Summary: The Reconnecting series is a reinterpretation of certain events of Season 4 that went AU shortly after “Home.” It focuses on the relationships of Trip and T’Pol and their extended family, and features characters introduced in Season 3, as well as original characters.

Spoilers: Through “Kir’Shara,” and a few references to “Daedalus.”

Story Summary: Sequel to my story ...Touching and Touched: Revelation. As thousands gather at Starfleet for the memorial honoring those lost in the embassy bombing on Vulcan, Lorian and Karyn’s engagement takes a surprising turn; Trip’s parents arrive for a visit, and enlightenment; and for Archer, one door closes, but another one opens.

A/N: This story references characters and events from my earlier story, Each Touch a Promise. It’s not necessary to read that one, but, it provides a bit of a backdrop. Thanks to my lovely betas Ludjin and Stephanie.

Date: 7-11-05

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Part One (Chapters 1-3)

Chapter 1: The Ridiculous and the Sublime

No one was expecting the noise.

It hit Archer and his delegation from Enterprise as they filed out of their transport shuttle...an angry swell outside the Starfleet compound, kept at bay by gates and guards, but allowed to sully the pristine morning air because of the right of free speech, however misguided.

Starfleet had carefully choreographed the memorial for the victims of the bombing of Earth’s embassy on Vulcan. It was to be a respectful, sedate affair, honoring those killed while pointedly avoiding casting aspersions on the Vulcan race, or any aliens who had a presence on Earth. But late last night, the carefully guarded identities of the perpetrators—the Vulcan perpetrators—had somehow been leaked to the hordes of press that had gathered to cover the memorial. By morning, the news had spread throughout the system, threatening to overshadow the ceremony itself.

The demonstrators—doubtless responsible for the leak—took full advantage of the attention. In the absence of weapons, they armed themselves with dogma and denial, and an apparently inexhaustible capacity for shouting. They surrounded the Starfleet complex, standing ten deep in spots, making it impossible for guests to proceed inside without running a gauntlet of slogans, placards, and xenophobic outrage. The heavy presence of Starfleet security prevented any physical contact between guests and protesters, but the mere act of passing through the front gates became an exercise in fortitude.

Many of the dignitaries attending the memorial were able to avoid contact with the demonstrators by arriving on shuttles that landed inside the compound. The Vulcan delegation, however, chose to meet the conflict directly, traveling overland from the embassy and entering on foot through the front gates. Their arrival was met by a firestorm of hurled invectives, accusations, and death threats from the rabble. As the phalanx of Starfleet guards held back the sea of fury, Ambassador Soval solemnly led his group past the frenzied, frightening mob without flinching. The protesters’ demands followed the Vulcans as they disappeared inside: Leave Starfleet! Leave Earth! Leave the system! Leave!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Inside Memorial Hall, there was, at last, respect. For those lost, and among those who had come to honor them.

The hall was filled to capacity with dozens of dignitaries and hundreds of Starfleet personnel, including contingents from Enterprise and Columbia. Among the attendees was the entire former crew of Lorian’s Enterprise, reunited for the first time since several dozen of them had taken off to travel their new world, or meet family members—a privilege reluctantly granted, with numerous restrictions, by security-conscious Starfleet HQ following Admiral Forrest’s insistence. They sat together now, a mixture of civilian dress and Starfleet blue, adults and children, humans and aliens, joined by their former captain and first officer, now Commander Lorian and Lieutenant Archer of the starship Columbia. Admiral Forrest had welcomed them all with open arms to this world they helped to save. He gave them new futures here, and now they were here to honor him.

Archer sat at the head of the fifty-strong Enterprise group, flanked by Trip and T’Pol, and gazed down at the forty-three portraits on display below the podium, one for each of the victims of the bombing. He was happy to see that they had used Forrest’s official Starfleet portrait. Eschewing the solemn mien that so many higher-ups adopted for their pictures, Forrest wore a thoughtful little smile that always struck Archer as a promise of wonders to come.

Even now, Archer still found it hard to believe that Forrest was gone. He had always been there, a sturdy, reliable presence, since Archer could remember. He’d been there to pick up the pieces after Dad died, and again after Mom died. He was there to mentor Archer through Starfleet, to praise him and chew him out and share drinks with him at the 602 Club on way too many late nights. Forrest had seen him off when Enterprise launched, run interference for him with the VHC, been his sounding board, confessor, friend, surrogate father. It had been easy to imagine that he would always be there...

Archer had thought his grief would be almost crippling, once he allowed himself to let down his guard after the mission to Vulcan was over and Enterprise was en route home. But he hadn’t counted on the lingering wisdom of Surak, or the entirely unexpected assistance of Soval. The ambassador and the captain found themselves drawn together by their mutual loss during the journey home, sharing their memories of their friend Forrest over meals, or after discussions of the Kir’Shara with T’Pol and Trip. The memories made the hurt more bearable for Archer. Even the daily meditation lessons became a source of companionship that he hadn’t even realized he so desperately needed.

He and Soval had come a long way since that first awkward handshake in February.

Trip had started referring to them all as an “extended family,” and Archer found the idea oddly satisfying. He’d refused for years to dwell on his solitary existence, because he knew deep down that if he thought about it, he would realize what he was missing and be all the more forlorn. But everything had changed with Karyn, who had added extraordinary depth to his life simply by embracing him as her family. Through her, he had gained Lorian. Now his two best friends were sort of married, and sort of his family, too, because of Lorian. And Soval, long T’Pol’s mentor, now seemed to have taken on that same role for all of them—Lorian at Starfleet, Trip during the Vulcan mission, Archer himself on the journey home.

It felt good to be part of a family again. Especially now, with the heightened awareness that came with sudden loss.

In the weeks since the bombing, Archer had noticed an increased closeness among the crew as well...an extra attentiveness to friendships and working relationships. A consciousness of opportunities not to be missed, lest they be suddenly stolen away.

Looking down his row of Starfleet blue, Archer caught the eye of Erika Hernandez and smiled at her. She smiled briefly back, before her attention was pulled away by one of her officers. Archer watched her thoughtfully. She was certainly an opportunity not to be missed—he saw that with crystal clarity now.

-- -- --

The first speaker to take the podium was Ambassador Shaw, the longtime embassy official who had accompanied the dead back from Vulcan. Archer thought the man looked, if anything, more drawn and haggard than he had during the journey home...but now, there was a new element to his demeanor. He looked damned angry.

As Abner Shaw eyed the cluster of cameras trained on him, beaming his image to the far reaches of the system, he held up a padd. “I had this eulogy all written out,” he began. “One of those typical, reverential jobs you always hear at funerals. The press already has a copy. But it’s not what I want to say anymore.” He tossed the padd aside and gripped the podium, white-knuckled.

Archer exchanged glances with Trip and T’Pol. T’Pol raised an eyebrow, and Trip silently mouthed, “Stress?” True, Shaw had suffered a tremendous loss with the deaths of his colleagues, and had only begun to open up and talk about them during the trip home from Vulcan. Perhaps the stress had finally outdone him.

“I’ve been a diplomat all my life,” Shaw went on. “I’ve always chosen my words with care. But today I must speak for those who cannot speak.” He gestured below the podium, to the forty-three portraits on display. “For these forty-three, who now have something more important to do than correct the outlandish misstatements of those clowns outside.”

Holy shit. Archer’s mouth dropped open. This man was a diplomat! But not for long, if the warning glare that Admiral Gardner was giving him was any indication.

As if sensing the thunderclouds gathering, Shaw turned toward Gardner, seated on the dais behind him. Looked him right in the eye, in fact. “This may very well be my last speech,” he continued, with a touch of wryness, “so I’ll make it pithy.” He pointed toward the exit doors of Memorial Hall. “Those demonstrators out there are saying that we—everyone on Earth—want Vulcans to leave, that we want no part of them, because Vulcans were responsible for the bombing. They say the victims shouldn’t have been on Vulcan in the first place, they were there out of obligation, they were under orders.”

Shaw’s fiery gaze swept over the assemblage. “I don’t presume to speak for any of you. But unlike those fools outside, I can speak for the dead, because I knew them, every one of them. I worked with them, ate with them, laughed with them. And let me tell you, they loved their work. They had great respect for Vulcan and its people. Nine of the Vulcans who died were part of our staff—they were our people. The other three worked with us regularly. The point is, we worked together—trusting each other, cooperating with each other, sharing ideas, sharing cultures.”

Shaw pointed to one of the Vulcan portraits, a striking man who looked to have been in the prime of his life. “Starna went clubbing in the human quarter with his co-workers one night and ate the finger food with his fingers. Earned the respect of the whole place.” He gestured to another portrait—a young human man in his twenties. “Dmetriev learned Vulcan so he could converse with his Vulcan colleagues in their own tongue.” Two more pictures, two women—a fresh-faced young human, and an older, gray-haired Vulcan. “Nitika studied The Teachings of Surak with T’Kaal to better understand the Vulcan way.” Another pair of portraits, a Vulcan man and a human woman. “Keval learned ballroom dancing from Thornton to better understand human romance.”

The audience was listening in rapt silence to Shaw’s heartfelt words. Several of the camera operators were now focused on the portraits. Archer was filled with admiration for Abner Shaw. If this was his professional swan song, he could go out knowing he’d done right by his fallen colleagues.

Shaw swallowed hard as a more poignant emotion began to replace his anger. He gazed down at the dozens of portraits as he continued more quietly. “These forty-three were not hypocrites, like their killers. They didn’t have their heads in the sand, like those people shouting outside. These men and women worked hard to find common ground between wildly divergent cultures, and stand on it, and learn. They believed in what they were doing. They died for it...” He stopped again, this time unashamedly blinking back tears. After regaining his composure, he looked out at the crowd and smiled, his anger spent, replaced by a kind of peace. “That’s the truth, ladies and gentlemen. I wanted you to know it.”

He returned to his seat on the dais, next to Gardner. The admiral’s face was carefully composed now, unreadable. In a low voice only Gardner could hear, Shaw said calmly, “My resignation will be on your desk by the end of the day.”

“Don’t bother,” Gardner replied, in the same low tone. “I’m not sacking you.”

It was all Shaw could do not to gape at Gardner. After what he just said, in front of God and man and the entire system? “Why not?”

“Because you said what the rest of us wish we could say, but can’t. And ironically, you’re probably the only one who’s going to get away with it.” Gardner met the ambassador’s eyes, adding pointedly, “If you graciously decline further comment from this point on.”

“Yes, sir,” Shaw said. He shut his eyes as he fought back a sudden wave of overwhelming grief.

He felt Gardner’s hand on his shoulder. “Just hang on a little while longer, Abner,” Gardner said softly.

Shaw felt a light touch on his other shoulder, and looked up to see Ambassador Soval standing before him, on his way to the podium. The empathy in the old Vulcan’s eyes was unmistakable. Shaw managed a faint smile. Soval nodded before proceeding on.

The longtime Vulcan ambassador to Earth surveyed the packed hall for a long moment, his eyes picking out numerous acquaintances, several friends...and five individuals in particular whom he was, against all logic, beginning to think of as family. Then his gaze dropped to the portraits arrayed below him, and to one portrait in particular.

He spoke, his voice quiet but clear in the silent hall. “Vulcan grieves with you for these forty-three, as I grieve for my friend, Maxwell Forrest. I shared with him his greatest goal, and his fondest wish—to bring humans and Vulcans together as equal allies. He was fortunate enough to see that his goal was already a reality in microcosm, in an embassy on Vulcan, and on a starship patrolling the quadrant.” Soval glanced up at Trip and T’Pol. She nodded respectfully, while Trip smiled at him. As Soval continued, his gaze shifted to Lorian. “He saw a promising future for our two worlds.” Lorian inclined his head in acknowledgment.

Soval contemplated Forrest’s portrait once more. “Admiral Forrest died in service to this goal, by giving his life to save the life of a Vulcan. He saved my life.” There was a rustle of reaction from the crowd; Soval’s admission was not common knowledge. As his gaze lingered on his friend’s portrait, the observing cameras caught the moment, capturing the respect and sadness in the ambassador’s eyes and beaming it out to the billions watching throughout the system.

Soval addressed the assemblage again. “When I first came here over three decades ago, I was quite intolerant.” He thought back to the day he first arrived, newly widowed, distressingly pessimistic. The High Command had thought him ideal for a posting on Earth. “I fully expected to find a species in thrall to its emotions, wildly illogical, still unprepared to venture into space without guidance. But gradually I was enlightened by Admiral Forrest, the first human with whom I worked closely, and by the personnel in his charge. I found humans to be emotional, and illogical, at times...but also determined, resourceful, and fueled in equal measure by stubbornness and boundless curiosity. I saw an admirable nobility of purpose in your quest to reach for the stars.”

He looked down at the portraits again, somberly. “The forty-three we grieve today were victims of intolerance, but they did not die needlessly. The attention focused on my world by their sacrifice has led to a planetwide enlightenment. The prejudices and secrecy that have shadowed my people for decades are falling away, and the ideals of truth and tolerance are again being embraced.” Soval looked up, meeting Captain Archer’s eyes. The captain tapped his temple with a little smile. “The new Vulcan High Council sees the logic in Admiral Forrest’s goal,” Soval continued, “and we have already begun taking steps to make it a reality.”

Soval’s gaze swept over the entire hall. “These forty-three are our teachers. In life, they demonstrated fellowship and trust. In death, they exposed injustice. Now, as we remember and honor them, they offer us continued enlightenment. We must not forget what they already knew. Vulcans are not superior; humans are not unprepared. We are merely different. Let us rejoice in our differences. They can be our strength, if we work together. We have much to offer each other as equals.”

As Soval took his seat again, Archer found himself wishing he could do the less-than-dignified thing and applaud the hell out of Soval. And Shaw. Then, somewhere in the back, someone did start clapping. Others joined in almost immediately—undoubtedly of the same mind as Archer—and soon the entire hall was ringing with applause. Soval accepted the kudos with his usual equanimity, while Shaw laughed softly to himself, even as he swiped at his wet eyes. Gardner just looked relieved.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Chapter 2: Mood Swings

Following the official Starfleet memorial, several individual services were held that morning in various venues around the city. Per his final instructions, Starfleet honored Maxwell Forrest by throwing a party. Guests were encouraged to dress colorfully, eat hearty, laugh well, and tell plenty of stories. Forrest’s wish was to be remembered with happiness.

When Archer pushed open the huge doors of Starfleet’s Great Hall with Soval and T’Pol, though, the situation looked grim. The room was already packed with scores of people, but quiet as a tomb. Most of the guests had changed into colorful attire, though a phalanx of Starfleet admirals, standing in a knot near the buffet tables, had stubbornly remained in their dress uniforms. But it looked as if no one was conversing, not even softly.

Soval arched an eyebrow. “Apparently the finer points of the admiral’s last request have escaped this assemblage.”

“Too bad Trip isn’t here yet,” Archer remarked. “With his Southern charm, I’d bet he would be able to perk up this crowd.”

“He and his parents are due to arrive in approximately thirty-four minutes,” T’Pol offered.

Archer winced. “Too long...”

Behind them, the doors swung open again, and a happy tidal wave of E² crew members poured into the Great Hall, cheerfully talking a blue streak. As they beheld the pervasively bleak mood, they slowed to a stop, their pleasant chatter trailing off into silence.

Dr. Kelsey hmmphed. “You’d think somebody died.” Her voice was soft, but unmistakably miffed. She gathered the rest of the crew around her. “There may still be time to salvage this pooper of a party. Go forth, now, and show these poor blind souls the true meaning of the phrase ‘celebrating a life.’ For the admiral.”

“For the admiral,” a hundred voices intoned in respectful reply. They spread into the hall, threading their way through the somber faces, as Archer, T’Pol, and Soval watched with curious interest from the sidelines.

-- -- --

Erin Yancy led her brood straight to the buffet tables. The girls had been angels throughout the long memorial service, and they were probably starving by now. “Anything you want, in moderation,” she announced. With squeals of delight, Sibella and Bonnie scampered off to get plates, as Erin surveyed the food. When she saw the big container of macaroni, she laughed out loud.

A nearby pair of guests—more like mourners, Erin thought to herself—lobbed a warning frown her way. Erin shrugged apologetically. So sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt your morose mood. But as she took a proffered plate from Sibella and reached for the macaroni, she began chuckling again.

Another guest was watching, a young woman in a rainbow of color who seemed to be attempting the positive attitude requested by the admiral’s last missive. She had a faint, hopeful smile on her face...the look of someone who was wrung out from grieving, and needed to find out how to move on. “Excuse me,” she began, “but...you look like you’re enjoying a nice memory.”

“Yes,” Erin replied with a smile. “Our first lunch with the admiral.”

The young woman drew closer. Seeing her opportunity, Erin continued. “It was our first day here, and the admiral was treating us all to lunch in the cafeteria. There were a lot of us—families, about a dozen children. The kids, well, they’d been cooped up for a while, so they started a food fight.”

The young woman broke into an astonished smile. “A food fight...here? At Starfleet?”

A few other people were listening now, Erin noticed. “Sure enough. Admiral Forrest stepped in to put a stop to it. As soon as he entered the battle zone, Sibella, my oldest, nailed him with a big glob of macaroni.”

The woman gasped, but she couldn’t suppress a little laugh. “I’ll bet you were upset.”

“Actually, my husband and I were pretty excited—Sibella’d been having trouble with her aim,” Erin confessed. “We were trying to applaud her improved ability, without really supporting her choice of target.”

“What did the admiral do?”

A crowd of about a dozen had gathered by now. Erin began acting out her story as she went on. “He kind of froze...macaroni sliiiiding down the front of that clean, sharp-looking uniform of his...” She heard a few soft chuckles from her audience. Finally, they were starting to loosen up. “We all froze, too—we’d only met the admiral the day before. We didn’t know how he’d react. He turned his back on everybody without saying a word. We thought that was it, that we’d get tossed off the premises.”

Erin paused for dramatic effect. She was pleased to see her listeners lean forward, waiting for her next word to fall. “Finally he turned back—and we saw that he was holding a big ol’ serving spoon of pasta salad. Which he lobbed right at Sibella.”

The crowd burst out laughing. “Did he get her?” someone asked.

“Hell, yes!” Erin declared. “Dead center. The admiral also had very good aim.” Another laugh. Erin smiled back at them all. They looked as if they hadn’t laughed for weeks. “Of course, that set off an out-and-out war. All of us grown-ups jumped out of the way, but Admiral Forrest stayed smack in the middle of it, playing referee—and also Really Big Convenient Target.”

Many of the people gathered around her were laughing continuously now. “From that moment on, the kids thought Admiral Forrest was the coolest old guy they’d ever met,” Erin grinned. “Whenever they saw him, they’d follow him around like puppies.” Erin’s smile softened with a touch of sadness. “The little ones still ask about him.” She held out her hand to the young woman. “I’m Erin.”

“Natasha.” The two women shook hands. “Thank you for the story. It is a wonderful memory.”

“So how did you know the admiral?” Erin asked.

“I work in the outer offices at HQ.” Natasha smiled at her own memory. “One day they sent me over to temp for him...”

-- -- --

Within minutes, E²’s people had lightened the room’s heavy mood, simply by offering smiles, sharing laughter, and telling anecdotes. Now the other guests were contributing their own stories, filling the room with cheerful remembrance.

“Remarkable,” Soval murmured.

“I believe these people missed their calling as morale officers,” Archer agreed.

“They are a product of a century in the Expanse,” T’Pol observed. “A generational ship confined to a war zone.”

“Indeed.” Lorian and Karyn joined the trio. “Under those circumstances,” he continued, “our crew could become pessimistic, or positive. We opted for the latter.”

“We all learned at a young age to celebrate life rather than dwell on loss,” Karyn smiled.

Archer noticed that the pair was still wearing their Starfleet uniforms. “You didn’t get a chance to change?”

“We haven’t stopped long enough—there are so many people to visit,” Karyn enthused. “The McCormacks had a million pictures to show around—they’ve been sightseeing for months. And Maggie and Tom Hayes went to a big family gathering. Lieutenant Sato arranged the whole thing. Lots of hugging and crying. Major Hayes’ mom practically adopted them.”

That made Archer smile. “Hopefully it’s a comfort to her, knowing that a part of her son lives on in them.”

Lorian turned to Soval. “Ambassador, may we have a few minutes of your time?”

Soval nodded. “Of course.”

“If you’ll excuse us, Mother, Captain...” Lorian and Karyn moved away with the ambassador.

Archer watched them curiously. “What’s that all about?”

T’Pol arched an eyebrow at him. “Captain. Desist.”

“I’m just wondering,” Archer said innocently. T’Pol’s eyebrow climbed even higher. Archer threw up his hands in defeat. “Okay, okay.” He escaped to the buffet tables.

-- -- --

Soval led Lorian and Karyn to a quiet corner of the Great Hall. “How may I assist you?”

“Trip and T’Pol told us yesterday about their bond,” Karyn began.

Lorian continued. “They explained that a mating bond may be established through a mind-meld.”

Soval nodded. “My wife and I bonded in this manner when we married.”

Lorian exchanged a warm glance with his fiancée. “Karyn and I wish to become bonded as well. We request your assistance.”

The commander’s request was hardly surprising, given the pair’s obvious affection for one another. Soval even sensed something deeper, though he could not determine precisely what it was. He found it curious that he had not picked up on it before. It was not a nascent bond, exactly, but something...else.

“I would be honored to perform the bonding meld,” he replied. “If it is possible. A bond between a Vulcan and a human is unusual enough, but you are half-Vulcan. The bonding requires sufficient telepathic ability to create and maintain the psychic link.” He paused. “In fact, I assumed you had no such ability. There is no mention of it in either the command or medical logs from your Enterprise.”

Lorian hesitated. “I did not, previously. My telepathy began to manifest itself only recently.”

Soval was intrigued. “Indeed? Explain.”

Lorian looked slightly uncomfortable. “Karyn is able to sense my emotions. In times of stress.”

Soval turned to the lieutenant in surprise. “She alone? Have you determined the reason?”

“We believe so.” Lorian shifted self-consciously. “It has to do with...with my hybrid physiological makeup.”

“Specify.”

Lorian paused again. Soval noted that the commander was avoiding eye contact. He appeared...embarrassed. The lieutenant, taking note of her fiancé’s difficulty, spoke for him. “I triggered his telepathy.”

Soval raised an eyebrow. “I beg your pardon?”

“Actually, we think the pon farr triggered it,” Karyn corrected herself. Beside her, Lorian proceeded to blush a deep green-bronze. “But I triggered the pon farr, so I guess I’m just splitting hairs,” Karyn concluded.

Soval regarded her with confusion. “You...triggered...Lorian’s last pon farr?”

“First,” Karyn amended.

Soval stared at Lorian. “You entered pon farr for the first time at your age?”

Lorian wished fervently that the floor would open up and swallow him, but no such merciful rescue from this latest mortification was forthcoming. And Soval was waiting for an explanation. “Apparently in my case,” he said in a rush, “the Vulcan mating drive lay dormant until it was awakened by various human-based external physical stimuli, in addition to a strong emotional attachment, all of which converged under unique conditions, in the form of...”

“Me,” finished Karyn, with a sheepish little smile.

Soval was fascinated. “It would appear then, that you have formed an empathic link as a result of your...unique union.”

The two of them stole a shy glance at one another as they nodded. “We were hoping that it might be enough to enable us to bond,” Karyn said.

The old Vulcan considered it. “It is difficult for me to say with certainty, not having encountered these circumstances before.” The connection he sensed between them was unmistakable, but required closer study. “If I may be permitted a brief mind-touch, I would be able to examine the link further.”

Another glance passed between the young couple, followed by another mutual nod. Soval wondered if they realized how attuned they were to one another already. “By all means, Ambassador,” Lorian said.

Soval led the pair into an empty banquet room off the Great Hall, where they could be afforded a modicum of privacy. “I need not establish a full meld,” he explained. “You will feel a subtle presence, no more.”

He touched his fingers lightly to Lorian’s face, automatically finding the katra points. He was struck immediately by the complex amalgam of Vulcan and human elements intertwining seamlessly within the younger man’s mind to form a balanced whole. “My mind to your mind,” he intoned softly. “My thoughts to your thoughts...”

In spite of his unwavering trust of Soval, Lorian felt a trace of apprehension. Almost as soon as he was aware of his unease, he felt Karyn taking his hand, holding it reassuringly. He relaxed...and then he felt a wisp of another consciousness in his mind, feather-light, like a butterfly floating through a meadow.

Soval found the link he had sensed. He marveled at its construction...a singularly complex web of Vulcan and human, instinct and determination, fear and desire...and binding it all together, steadfast, selfless love. Even now, he could feel Karyn’s essence through it. She was indeed the catalytic force behind it. Remarkable. It was not a bond, but it could easily be rendered so.

Soval withdrew his hand, breaking the mind-touch. Lorian felt the faint other-presence fade away. The process had taken only moments. He and Karyn looked questioningly at the ambassador.

“The link is as unique as the circumstances of its creation,” Soval told them. “It is quiet, but steady and strong. I see no impediment to a successful bonding. We can perform the ceremony tonight, if you wish.”

Their faces brightened in tandem. “Yes,” they said, almost at the same moment. Then Karyn ducked her head shyly as Lorian blushed again.

They were indeed an agreeable match. “Tonight, then,” Soval nodded.

-- -- --

Archer stood off to one side, his food forgotten, as he watched Lorian and Karyn deep in conversation with Soval. What were they up to...? He wished he could read lips. When the three disappeared into a side banquet room, his curiosity was piqued even further.

The big doors of the Great Hall swung open and Admiral Gardner entered, scanning the room. When he spotted Archer, he headed over. “Nice party,” Archer smiled.

Gardner surveyed the crowd, noticing Lorian’s people cradling the other guests along. “I hear I have the E² bunch to thank for that.”

“If you could stick their attitude in a bottle and sell it, you’d be a millionaire.”

Gardner turned his attention to Archer. “Jon...about the mission back to the Expanse...”

Archer could tell from the hesitation in Gardner’s voice that something was wrong. “What?”

“We’re giving it to Columbia,” Gardner said. “Word came down from HQ half an hour ago.”

Archer was stunned. He’d campaigned for months to return to the Skagaran world, and find the Illyrians he’d stranded when he stole their warp coil. “Why?”

“Emory Erickson contacted Starfleet. He’s working on a new long-distance transporter beam—sub-quantum teleportation, he calls it. He needs passage out to the Barrens, and a lot of power to conduct his experiments. He needs a starship. He asked for you specifically. HQ is salivating for a working prototype of this new transporter, and naturally they want to keep him happy. So Columbia gets the Expanse, and Enterprise gets Emory.”

Archer felt as though he’d been kicked in the gut. “I don’t understand. Enterprise made first contact with the Skagarans. We’re responsible...I’m responsible...for wronging the Illyrians. It’s our duty to go back—to make amends. To finish what we started.”

“I know, Jon,” Gardner said, with genuine sympathy. “And you’ll get your chance. But not this time.”

Archer turned away in frustration. “Think about it,” Gardner went on. “You’re the last person the Illyrians will want to see. Not to mention the least effective choice to open up a diplomatic dialogue with their people. It’s better for Hernandez to go first and smooth things over. Then, when you follow, they might actually listen to your apology, rather than simply toss you the hell off their planet.”

Archer sighed. “Good cop, bad cop. Is that it?”

“Something like that.”

Archer stewed in silence. Gardner continued, his voice reasonable. “And you know there’ll be a lot of trips back and forth to the Skagaran world. It’s going to take a lot of planning and a lot of travel time to get six thousand displaced humans back home, if they all want to come.”

Archer knew Gardner was making sense, but it didn’t make him feel any better. He’d been counting on the return to the Expanse—hoping to find the peace that still eluded him, and to set right one of the terrible wrongs he had been forced to commit last year in the name of saving the universe. “I don’t suppose there’s any use in my appealing this.”

“No. The decision’s final.” Gardner put a hand on Archer’s shoulder. “I know this stinks, Jon. I’m sorry.”

The admiral moved off. Archer stayed where he was, giving himself a moment to tuck away his crushing disappointment. There was no place for it here; it would wait until later, when he was alone. He tried to focus on Emory, and how good it would be to see him and Danica again.

“It wasn’t my idea.”

He looked up. Erika Hernandez was standing a couple of meters away, looking faintly apologetic. “The Expanse,” she continued. “Honestly, I was expecting a local assignment. Patrolling around the system or something. I’m sorry.”

Jon managed a wry smile. “No, you’re not.”

She had the grace to look guilty, at least. “No, I’m not. I mean, I am, for Enterprise. But for my ship, my people...” She broke into a smile. “I’m thrilled.”

“Good.” Jon thought Erika looked particularly attractive at this moment...resplendent in her uniform, her eyes shining, her normal laid-back calm replaced by an undercurrent of excitement that gave her a striking inner glow.

At the same time, though, he sensed something different between them. Or rather, the absence of something between them. Erika was uncharacteristically keeping her distance, both physically and emotionally. She was talking to him, but she wasn’t with him. Her focus was somewhere else.

“What are you doing over the next couple of days?” she asked. “Because I really need to spend a lot of time with you.”

He blinked. Okay, maybe my instincts are off. It had been an emotional morning. He pushed his uncertainty aside. “How can I turn down a request like that?” Playfully, he added, “What’d you have in mind?”

“The Expanse, of course!” she declared. “I want to pick your brain.”

His heart sank. But he didn’t let the ache reach his face. “Of course.”

“I’ll go over all your logs and reports again, but I’m sure you have information you didn’t put in a report,” Erika continued. “Something that might help me when I get out there. Especially with the Illyrians and the Skagarans.”

“Sure,” he replied, keeping his voice light. “It’s important that you make a good first impression. Or—second impression.”

She laughed, completely at ease with the conversation, while Jon couldn’t feel more awkward if he tried. He suddenly realized what it reminded him of. He was like the ex-boyfriend, being relegated to the “just friends” role by the lady who had found love somewhere else.

Erika was already backing away, ready to move on. “I’ll call you later. We’ll set up a time.”

“You’re leaving?” This was all happening too quickly. It was all he could do to keep the tone of his voice casual.

She shrugged, no longer looking the least bit apologetic. “I have too much to do. We’re going to the Expanse!” Her smile was radiant. She was fulfilled—more now than Jon had ever seen her before. She’d found the love of her life.

He returned her smile, genuinely happy for her. “You’re shameless.”

“That I am, Captain.” And off she went, with a spring to her step.

He stood rooted to the spot, watching the doors swing shut behind her. Why was he so surprised? More importantly, why was he so upset?

Starship captains were married to their ships. Everyone knew that. Any other relationship was transitory, or purely physical. A dalliance, compared with the deep commitment of captain to vessel and crew.

And yet...ever since Karyn had gotten engaged to Lorian, Jon had been thinking about Esilia. A starship captain’s wife, in another place, another life, one that he would never live.

During the trip home from Vulcan, he had pulled up Esilia’s picture from the alternate Enterprise’s database. He had gazed at her beautiful, exotic face, wondering why marriage had been possible, and successful, for the other Jonathan Archer. Was it the unique situation—a generational ship, with no brass to answer to? Had his duties as captain been so different that he could love and marry without risk to his ship or crew? Or was it simply that what everyone knew...wasn’t actually true?

What was it like for that Jon, to have a wife, love, marriage...a soulmate?

What was it like not to be alone?

Jon had realized then how much he wanted a chance at what his counterpart had. He had begun to think Erika was his opportunity. But now, with Columbia ready to take wing at last, Erika had given her heart to her vessel. If he’d ever had a chance—if—it was lost now. She was already married...to Columbia.

Jon was too late.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Chapter 3: Meet the Parents

The first thing Chuck said as he and Catherine stepped off the transport shuttle was, “You didn’t tell us Vulcans bombed the embassy.”

“I’m fine, Dad,” Trip answered pleasantly. “How was your trip?”

Catherine gave her son a hug in greeting. “Faster than I remember. Air travel always makes my head spin.”

Chuck shook his head in disgust as he headed off to retrieve their luggage. “How can you work with those people, anyway?”

Trip sighed as he followed his father. This visit’s just gonna fly by, isn’t it? “Now, Dad, I know you don’t mean to sound like a bigoted jerk, and ‘those people’ is just an unfortunate choice of words.”

Catherine trailed after them. “Trip, try to understand his point of view...”

“They held our warp program back for a century!” Chuck fumed as he snagged their bags. “They kept Henry Archer from seeing his dream come true. They’ve been driving Jon crazy for years. Now they’re killing our people, and you’re siding with them?”

“I’m not choosing sides,” Trip said patiently. “A lot has changed on Vulcan in just the last few weeks—the whole government’s being overhauled. Something like the bombing isn’t going to happen again. Things are different now.”

Chuck snorted. “Yeah, sure.”

Trip hoisted a couple of the bags. “Oh, don’t believe me. Never mind that I was there, watching history being made.”

“Vulcan history? Who cares?”

“I do!” Trip declared.

“Since when?” Chuck retorted.

Catherine stepped between them. “Stop it, both of you.” She turned to her husband. “Chuck, we didn’t come here to argue. We came to hear Trip tell us what’s been going on with him.” She smiled meaningfully at Trip. “Finally.”

Trip smiled back at her, taking the not-so-subtle scolding in stride. Be careful what you wish for, Mom.

Catherine held him at arm’s length, studying his face. “Your color looks better, and you’ve put some weight back on,” she noted with satisfaction. But she winced at his shirt. It was a fairly decent color for a change, a rich, deep red that bordered on burgundy. The pattern, though...it made her motion-sick just to look at it. “I see that wearing a uniform every day hasn’t done anything to improve your fashion sense.”

Trip made a show of looking wounded. “I happen to like this shirt.”

Chuck shrugged. “It’s not as bad as the one he wore last visit, Cath. You know, that orange and purple thing?”

Catherine nodded in pained recollection. “I’ve been trying to forget that one.”

“Is that all you’re gonna do? Bust down my wardrobe?” Trip drew himself up with tattered dignity. “I have plenty of folks right here who can do that, thank you very much.”

Catherine kissed her son on the cheek. “Aw, I can’t resist funnin’ you, sweetie.”

Chuck grabbed the other two bags. “Ya gotta admit, son, it’s like shootin’ fish in a barrel.”

“Hookay, moratorium on the son’s clothes.” Trip led the way out of the terminal. “I have a ground car down by the boardwalk.”

-- ---

It was nice to stroll along the boardwalk, feeling the cool sea breeze, listening to the gulls as they glided by overhead. Trip hadn’t taken the time, back when Enterprise had first returned from the Expanse.

“So...have you been to the memorial?” Catherine asked.

“I just came from there,” Trip replied. “A whole group of us from Enterprise were—”

“No.” She shook her head. “I meant, the memorial in Florida. It was dedicated in May.”

“Oh.” Trip kept his voice neutral. “No. I saw some pictures.” He saw his mother watching him expectantly, waiting for an explanation. “Mom, we’ve been on assignment this whole time.”

“You’re back now.”

“Catherine,” Chuck said quietly, an edge of caution in his voice.

She ignored her husband as she kept at Trip. “Aren’t you planning on going?”

Trip glanced at his dad. Chuck shrugged tiredly and backed off. Apparently this was an old argument. Gently but directly, Trip told his mother, “I already went to Florida. I don’t need to go back.”

“Not even for Elizabeth?” Catherine’s voice was still quiet, but her eyes were fixed on him, as if she expected some kind of revelation.

Trip set down the bags and turned to her. “Where are you going with this?”

Chuck dropped his bags too, making himself comfortable on a bench. Clearly, he knew where this was going.

Catherine took Trip’s hand solicitously. “Honey, you said in February that you were okay about Lizzie...but you didn’t tell us anything. You didn’t talk about her at all.”

“I didn’t need to,” he said simply.

Catherine only looked more concerned. “You haven’t opened up to us since she died. I look at you, and I can’t tell if you’ve grieved for her, or if you’re still in denial, or if you’ve even let yourself to think about her.” She hesitated. “I’m worried about you.”

Now all the probing little questions made more sense. Trip patted her hand. “I’m fine, Mom. And I think I understand what’s happening here. Back in February, you expected me to be broken, and you were all ready to fix me...except I didn’t need fixing. That perturbs you, doesn’t it? Just a little?”

From the way she drew back, he knew he’d hit a bull’s-eye. “That’s ridiculous,” she declared, a little too strongly.

“It took Doc Brown a month to get that out of her,” Chuck remarked.

“Shut your mouth, Chuck,” Catherine snapped self-consciously.

Trip sat her down on the bench next to Chuck. “I wasn’t avoiding talking to you. We’ve just been out of sync ever since the Xindi attack. You had three months’ head start on me. All the time that Enterprise was on its way back to Earth, I was hoping I’d find out that, somehow, Lizzie was okay. I dreamed up all kinds of scenarios—she was trapped, and I’d find her and get her out...she had amnesia, and that’s why nobody’d heard from her...there’d just been some horrible mixup, or miracle, or mistake, and she was fine...” His voice quieted. “Then I saw that trench, and I knew she was gone.”

Catherine's gaze reflected her shared heartache. “Oh, honey, I'm sorry.”

“That’s when I finally went into shock,” Trip told her. “I dunno, maybe somebody could’ve gotten me to talk it out then. But you’d gone into your Frozen phase. You couldn’t even say her name. Remember?”

Catherine thought back, and nodded, subdued. “Your brother’s still stuck there.”

Trip looked over at Chuck, who was staring out at the gulls floating over the fishing boats. “And Dad, he was already in his Anger phase. He didn’t want to talk, either—all he wanted to do was break some heads.”

Catherine took Chuck’s hand. “We couldn’t reach each other for quite a while, there.” Wordlessly, Chuck brought her hand up and kissed it, and she smiled sadly at him.

“The Anger phase is where I went too, after we left for the Expanse.” Trip gazed out at the ocean, watching splinters of sunlight dance across the water. “You asked if I thought about Lizzie. Yeah, I thought about her. All I did was think about her. I dreamed about her. I had nightmares about her. I didn’t sleep for five months, because every time I closed my eyes, I’d watch her die all over again.” He sighed. “I was broken, all right.”

“Did Jon help you?” Catherine asked softly.

“He had his own problems out there. But...there was somebody else.” Trip smiled as he remembered that first awkward evening of neuropressure with T’Pol...subterfuge, discord, embarrassment, and then a defiant sort of harmony, followed by the blessed relief of sleep for the first time in months. “The last person I ever expected.”

Catherine and Chuck looked at their son’s enigmatic smile, and exchanged a glance. One of those special people he wants us to meet, they agreed silently. “Who?” Catherine prompted.

Trip took a deep breath. Here we go. The second step. “Remember the science officer I told you about? T’Pol?”

Catherine’s eyes widened. “Jon’s first officer?”

If Mom’s face said Oh My Goodness, Chuck’s expression was more along the lines of What The Hell?! “The Vulcan?” he asked incredulously.

“That’s her,” Trip replied smoothly. “She taught me some meditation techniques that stopped the nightmares and helped me sleep. We ended up spending a lot of time together...and we became really good friends.”

Chuck was still aghast. “How on earth do you make friends with a Vulcan?”

“She’s Captain Archer’s friend, too,” Trip replied. “It is possible.”

Chuck just rolled his eyes. Trip turned back to his mom, who was taking him seriously, at least. “It was with T’Pol that I was finally able to open up and grieve. She helped me to remember Lizzie laughing and happy.” He smiled. “She gave Lizzie back to me.”

A gamut of emotions crossed Catherine’s features...relief, uncertainty, happiness. And envy. Trip had been right about his mom being upset that someone else succeeded where she had failed. “So...T’Pol...fixed you?”

“She saved my life,” Trip said plainly.

Catherine drew in a silent breath as the sudden realization hit her like a thunderbolt. “You’re in love with her.”

Trip looked steadily at them both. “Yes.”

“With a Vulcan?” Chuck blurted. “What kind of fool thing is that to do? They don’t even have emotions!”

“Sure they do, Dad,” Trip replied easily. “They just keep ‘em under control, is all.”

“What does that mean?” Catherine asked with concern. “Does she love you? Does she even know what love is?”

Trip reached out with his mind. T’Pol was there, as always, her presence calm and sweet. He got to his feet with a smile. “She does. And she does.” He picked up his bags. “You’ll see when you meet her. Let’s get a move on—we’re stopping off at Starfleet before I take you to the hotel.”

Chuck and Catherine rose together, eyeing Trip warily. “You’re taking us to a funeral to meet your Vulcan girlfriend?” Chuck asked.

“Dressed like that?” Catherine added with trepidation.

“Naw.” Trip grinned. “We’re going to a party.”

~~tbc~~

Continue to Part Two, Chapter 4

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The comments for part one were inadvertently deleted. Since we have turned off the comment function, we have placed them here at the end of the entry.

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A whole mess of folks have made comments

Oh yippee! An update from HR! What a nice surprise this morning. I love this story HR! Oh...setting up some angst from Trip’s parents...veeeeeeeeeeery interesting...update soon..don’t let RL get in the way!!!

;)

Excellent post! realistic interaction tween Trip and his folks - glad he kept calm. Wonderful speeches by Soval and Shaw - not everyday that someone at/near the top grabs their ‘nads and says what truly needs to be said, politics be hanged. a most excellent post, indeed!

I’m so excited to be first! HR, the funeral had me in tears, and Trip’s parents had me in stitches. (I can actually see my Dad reacting the same way in a similar situation.) Trip’s revelation of his relationship with T’pol was wonderful, and I can’t wait to see Karyn and Lorian bonded. As usual, this is truly publishable... I’ll be looking for the next installment with bated breath.

Love the idea of a party for the Admiral instead of a funeral. Life should be celebrated! Archer’s thoughts regarding Erika were good too. But, Trip with his parents, that was brilliant!

Ok HR Im lovin this one. Loved the speach from that Ambassador Shaw, and Sovals to,, need more politicians’s like them in the world.

An you totaly freaked me out with your version of Trips parents,,, They exactly like I would expect both of mine to act in the same situation,, Trips mom actin Cautiously supportive, while Chuck acted all bigotish,,, wonder if he’s gona be all polite around T’pol then vent it all when she’s out of ear shot?

This one’s turnin out great. Cant wait for the meetin of the Inlaws.

Go on, go on, go on!!! This story was just amazing, I don’t even know where to start... Excellent chapter. Really.

Great chapters as always HR! I can’t believe you left us hanging there!! I can’t wait for the big introductions. If they’re shocked about T’Pol, what will they think of Lorian?!

Is it Christmas already? Cool, and new HR installment!

You keep writing, we’ll keep reading. Excellent as always...

I really liked it. It is all good but I am Lizzy obsessed. So the “she gave Lizzy back to me” line is very satisfying.

What a great chapter! You had me in tears with Shaw’s speech, absolutely the most powerful thing I’ve read in a long time.

Trip’s parents are very well done, very believable, and I love the interaction between the three of them. Can’t wait to read the introductions.

As for Archer, am I right in thinking you’re leading him toward Danica? She and Archer had the best chemistry of anyone they ever paired him with, and they didn’t take it anywhere! So, I’m anxiously awaiting your view of them.

Please don’t keep us in suspense for long. As always, your writing is superb. Such a joy to read!

Come on!!! you can’t stop there, its just getting good. update soon!

Great story! I think that there would have to be a lot more than six thousand humans on the former Skagaran colony though. There were too many 19th century manufactured items, such as pistols, sheet metal and lanterns for the population to be under several million.

And who’s to say the humans would leave? Why would a bunch of gun slingin’ alien lynching, whiskey drinking cowboys want to go back to earth to be endlessly lectured on the virtue of tolerance while trying to find a 22nd century job?

They have their own world and their own culture. I think its likely that more people would want to go to cowboy world than would want to leave.

Besides, they wouldn’t be able to take their horses.

Yay oh yay oh yay! HopefulRomantic, you have GOT to be my all-time favorite fanfic author! Thanks so much for continuing the story... and of course, sharing with us! Can’t wait for the next part!

Wonderful installment. I loved the E2 reunion and the role they played at the party. Shaw’s speach was intense and spot on. Great stuff.

I also liked the conflict that you’ve introduced with Trip’s parents. You’ve set up their feelings well and I’m ready to read how this is all going to play out. Not only is their son in love with a Vulcan, they also have a grandchild who is half Vulcan and about to be married to a woman who is part of an alien species they don’t even know about! Oh the surprises in store for them!

I also love the sense of extended family that you’ve created in this fic. It’s really believable and comes across very well. It definitely sends out the warm fuzzies. :)

Wow! I love this story! I was searching for a story about Lorian and his people for so long! I like the idea of the conflicts Trip’s parent(s) feel towards aliens since Lizzie’s death. I can’t wait to read Trip’s parents meeting T’Pol and their grandson! Please update soooooooooon :-)

Very glad to read the update...great work.

I’m always excited when there’s a new installment and this chapter is no exception. I was so enthralled by Trip’s conversation with his parents. You really captured the emotions that he and his family must have went through when Lizzie died. Like Angel said Trip’s parents are very believeable. I can’t wait for them to meet Trip’s family. Update soon. Thanx!

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