...Touching and Touched - Part 4

...Touching and Touched

by Hopeful Romantic

Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Star Trek: Enterprise is the property of CBS/Paramount. All original material herein is the property of its author.

A/N: This chapter is for my dad.

Date: 8-12-05

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part Four

Chapter 6: Get Ready, Get Set, Get Set, Get Set...

As the four men headed out of the Starfleet compound, a lingering cluster of demonstrators set upon them, lobbing a barrage of protests and insults at Soval and Lorian. Instinctively, Trip stepped between the noisemakers and the Vulcans, even though Starfleet security was still out in force, maintaining a wide safety zone.

Without missing a beat, the protesters turned their invectives on Trip and Chuck. “Vulcan-lovers!...Traitors to your species!...” It was Trip’s first up-close exposure to the xenophobia, and it was startling. He hadn’t believed people could be this thick-headed, not really.

He put his head down and herded his family past the demonstrators. Chuck was even more rattled than he was. Lorian kept his composure, but Trip could tell that his son was unsettled. Only Soval remained unaffected, moving smoothly past the hecklers without so much as batting an eye.

When they were safely out of range, Trip finally slowed his pace. “You okay, Dad? Lorian?”

“Yeah.” Chuck still looked troubled. “I never expected...” He trailed off, casting an uncomfortable glance at Lorian and Soval. He never expected to be accused of chumming around with Vulcans, damn it all. Especially being chummy with Soval—the snottiest, grouchiest, most disapproving Vulcan of them all. But all that name-calling sounded a lot different when he was one of the targets. God, was he a bigoted jerk? Was Trip right?

“I should have expected it,” Lorian admitted. “Being on Columbia, I have been more insulated than I realized.”

“Didn’t seem to bother you,” Chuck remarked to Trip.

Trip masked his unease with a lopsided grin. “After squaring off against the Xindi, a few home-grown assholes are no big deal.”

Chuck hesitated. “I guess you’re used to it, because of...y’know, you and T’Pol.”

“Not especially,” Trip confessed. “On Enterprise, we’re probably more insulated than Lorian. We’ve hardly stepped foot on Earth since May. But after we get married, I suppose we’ll have to get used to it.” He eyed Soval. “You certainly took it in stride. What’s your secret? Vulcan imperturbability?”

“Naturally,” the ambassador replied with aplomb. “As well as the fact that I have concealed myself behind a supremely insufferable persona for over three decades.”

Trip chuckled. “Oh, right. You are an old hand at being the target of open hostility.”

Chuck looked askance at Soval. “...Concealed?”

“A necessary if distasteful subterfuge, undertaken for the benefit of the Vulcan High Command,” Soval clarified. “To enable me to remain Earth’s ambassador.”

“Soval’s been on our side all along,” Trip revealed with a wink.

Soval? A good guy? In a pig’s eye... “Do tell,” Chuck said stonily.

“There were many in the High Command who believed that humanity’s advance into space might threaten those who held power on Vulcan,” Soval stated.

“The power-holders bein’ those same leery folks in the High Command,” Trip interjected.

“If I had made my affinity for your people known,” Soval continued, “and lobbied for equal alliance earlier, the High Command would simply have ended my tenure here—and my partnership with Admiral Forrest. I would have been replaced by someone more supportive of inhibiting your progress. By remaining, I was able to help the Admiral in more...subtle ways.”

Chuck squinted at him. “You expect me to believe you pretended to be an arrogant jerk...to help us?”

Soval eyed the elder Tucker speculatively. “Considering your obvious skepticism...no, I do not.” He continued placidly on to the waiting ground car. Trip laughed, and Chuck scowled at him.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Karyn got the three of them on a Starfleet courtesy shuttle that was making regular trips to Columbia and Enterprise. As the craft lifted off, Catherine regarded T’Pol curiously. “How did your mother react when you told her about you and Trip? I suppose she was more even-keeled about it, being Vulcan.”

“Even...” T’Pol was not familiar with the phrase, but she could infer its meaning from context. “She opposed the idea. She reasoned that our cultural differences would preclude a successful relationship.”

“You are very different.” Catherine paused. “Are you concerned about that?”

“We have the advantage of a unique hindsight: Lorian’s account of his parents’ marriage,” T’Pol replied.

“Everyone else on the ship admired Trip and T’Pol for their devotion to each other,” Karyn smiled. “Their love story was always the children’s favorite.”

Catherine was enchanted. “They told stories about you?”

“An oral history of sorts, as I understand it,” T’Pol affirmed. “As to the differences between your son and myself, whether they compel us to learn from each other or argue with each other—or both—they serve to strengthen our bond, rather than compromise it.”

“Did your mother come around to your way of thinking?”

T’Pol recalled her final moments with T’Les, in that wondrous, enlightening mind-meld. “At the last, she told me she had been in error. She was glad for us.”

Catherine hesitated. “At the last?”

“My mother was killed during our mission on Vulcan,” T’Pol said calmly. “She was part of a group wrongly accused of being a threat. Their deaths were engineered by the same men responsible for the embassy bombing.”

Stricken by T’Pol’s admission, Catherine instinctively reached out to her. “I’m so sorry...” Then she remembered that Vulcans didn’t like casual touching, and started to pull back.

T’Pol extended her own hand, clasping Catherine’s lightly. “I was with her before she died. We were able to share many things.”

“That’s a comfort, at least.” Catherine felt tears in her eyes. Self-consciously, she looked away. “I don’t mean to be gettin’ all emotional on you.”

“You need not apologize for revealing your heart,” T’Pol said kindly. “I see that compassion is a family trait, and an admirable one.”

Catherine blinked back her tears. “I wouldn’t have thought Vulcans value compassion.”

“My perspective regarding emotion has always been somewhat...anomalous,” T’Pol explained, with a touch of wryness. “But even our greatest teacher, Surak, acknowledged that logic without emotion is incomplete. Emotions have great power, and must be respected if we are to have any hope of mastering them.”

Catherine smiled at her. “Sounds like good advice for anybody.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Callahan squinted in the bright sunlight as he stood in front of the entrance to his jazz club. He wasn’t used to the sunlight, but he wanted to be here while the workmen replaced the broken windows. The last time, they messed up the framework—took a week to straighten everything out. Pain in the ass.

Kyle came out, wiping her hands on a bar towel, her dark auburn hair turning fiery in the sunshine. “Somebody’s just gonna break ‘em again, Boss. You know that, don’t you?”

Callahan folded his beefy arms defiantly across his chest. “What d’you want me to do? Cave? Bar aliens from my place? You know me better than that, Kyle. Callahan’s refuses service to no one! Except for the asshole ‘phobes who bust my windows.”

Kyle smiled, laying a hand on his arm. “What I meant was, maybe you should invest in glassteel next time.”

Callahan snorted. “Like I can afford that.” He surveyed the gleaming new windows as the workmen laid the framework in place. “I kinda like it better this way. Every time the ‘phobes break ‘em, I’m gonna put up new ones, and they’re gonna see it.” He nodded with satisfaction. “Shows ‘em they’re not gonna get to me, ever.”

“Have the authorities caught who did it?” asked a solicitous voice behind them.

“Nah,” Callahan answered the passerby, without looking. “These ‘phobes skulk around in the dark, like rats. ‘Sides, the cops’ve had their hands full enough lately, what with the memorial an’ all. Every loony in the region musta come here to make a stink, from what I’ve—”

Kyle was tugging at his arm, her blue eyes wide, gesturing behind him. “What?” Callahan asked in puzzlement. “I’m talkin’ here.”

She took him by the shoulders and turned him bodily around, toward his concerned questioner—and Callahan found himself face to face with Captain Jonathan Archer of the starship Enterprise, looking relaxed in civvies, but no less impressive.

“Holy shit—I mean—uh—hello, Captain Archer,” Callahan spluttered. “Good to see ya again, sir.” He finally shut his trap and stuck out his hand.

“You, too, Callahan.” The captain shook his hand warmly. “Sorry to hear about the trouble you’ve been having.”

Callahan shrugged it off. “Nothin’ we can’t handle.” He gestured to Kyle. “You remember Kyle MacMillan, my barkeep.”

Archer greeted her with a dazzling smile. “Indeed I do. How are you, Kyle?”

“Can’t complain, sir,” Kyle replied, returning his smile. He looked even better out of uniform, she noted. His forest-green shirt and slacks complemented his green eyes...not to mention the rest of him.

Concern darkened the captain’s brow as he watched the workmen putting the finishing touches on the new windows. “Being on Enterprise, and being away, we didn’t realize xenophobia was still such a problem here.”

“Not a big problem,” Kyle clarified. “Just an annoyingly stubborn one.”

“Some people—they just need to hate, I guess,” Callahan said with a resigned shrug. “I don’t get it, though. Never will.”

“Is that why you have this club?” Archer asked.

“I have this club because I love good jazz, Captain,” Callahan grinned. “But yeah, it’s why I spread the word after the Xindi attack, that aliens were welcome in my joint. I’ve always found tolerance and understanding to be a lot stronger than hate.”

“You’ll get no argument from me there,” the captain agreed.

“So what can we do for ya?” Callahan offered.

“If you have a few minutes to spare, I have a favor to ask.”

“Sure. C’mon inside.”

-- -- --

Once they had settled themselves at a table next to the quiet, empty dance floor, Kyle asked, “How are the Lovebirds?”

Archer looked puzzled, but intrigued. “Lovebirds?”

“Your pretty Karyn and her dashing Lorian,” Callahan grinned. “We call ‘em the Lovebirds on account of, we watched ‘em fall in love here.”

Archer smiled. “The Lovebirds are fine.”

“We hardly see ‘em at all, now that they’re on Columbia,” Callahan remarked wistfully. “The regulars really miss ‘em out on the dance floor.”

“As a matter of fact, they’re the reason I’m here,” the captain said. “They’re getting married.”

“Hot damn!” Callahan crowed.

Kyle just smiled knowingly. “Anybody who didn’t see that coming would have to be blind.”

“When’s the big day?” Callahan asked.

“Today, actually.” Archer glanced at his chronometer. “In three hours and thirty-two minutes, if everything comes together.”

“You look amazingly calm, all things considered,” Kyle remarked.

“It’s not so much calm as it is controlled panic,” Archer replied wryly. He folded his hands carefully on the table. “This scheme was dreamed up about half an hour ago.”

“Holy crap,” Callahan murmured.

Archer broke into a chuckle. “Exactly. I’ve got a hundred people on their way up to Enterprise right now, by whatever means they can devise. I’ve got a maintenance crew emptying a cargo bay to make room for all the guests, most of whom will be scattering to the four winds at midnight tonight. I’m pretty sure we can pull off the ceremony...but I don’t think the idea of a reception has occurred to anyone yet.”

“Except you,” Kyle smiled.

The captain shrugged, almost shyly. Kyle was struck by the contrast between his larger-than-life reputation—the Savior of Earth, the Conqueror of the Xindi—and the man himself, quiet and unassuming, simply wanting the best for his Karyn.

“Karyn is my family,” he said, with obvious affection. “This is going to be a pretty crazy wedding day for her. I just want to do what I can to make sure it’ll be a day she’ll cherish.”

“Why Enterprise?” Kyle asked curiously.

The captain smiled, a sweet little-boy smile of bashful delight. “They asked me to perform the ceremony.”

Kyle sighed dreamily. “Aw, how sweet is that?” It was surprising, really, how normal Archer was, when he had no battles to wage or history to forge. She found him tremendously appealing.

“You can see my dilemma,” he went on. “So many people, so little notice. And anything we do would have to be low-key—we’re trying not to turn any heads.” He looked to Callahan. “The first place—the only place—I thought of for the reception was Callahan’s. I know that’s not possible, but I was hoping that, perhaps for an hour or two before you open for business tonight, we could gather everyone here for a toast? Maybe a wedding dance?”

Callahan held up a hand. “Say no more, Captain. The Lovebirds, they’re kinda like our family too, y’know? I woulda been downright hurt if you hadn’t come to me.” He scanned the room, picturing what he could throw together in a few hours. “You bring everybody here, an’ we’ll have somethin’ nice waitin’ for ya. A little food, a little music, a little champagne—and some sparkling non-alcoholic stuff for the Vulcans...Kyle at the bar...dance floor... How’s that sound?”

Archer beamed happily. “Perfect. It sounds absolutely perfect.”

“Then consider it done.”

They shook hands on it. “Oh...” Archer got a conspiratorial look in his eye. “I’d like it to be a surprise for the Lovebirds.”

Callahan chuckled slyly. “You got it, Captain. We’ll keep everything on the q.t. until you show up with ‘em.”

He and Kyle walked Archer to the door. As the captain stepped from the cool dimness of the club into the blinding midday sunshine, he said, “People should start trickling in at about five, I think. And honestly, we can be out of your hair by—”

“Captain.” Callahan put his hands on his hips. “Willya stop worryin’, already? You just get ‘em all here. We’ll take care of the rest. Even the clock-watching.”

“Sorry.” Archer ducked his head, duly scolded. Kyle thought he looked adorable.

“Now get outta here, sir,” Callahan ordered, politely but firmly. “We both got work to do.”

“Aye, sir,” Archer replied smartly. He turned to Kyle, giving her another heart-stoppingly beautiful smile. “Good to see you again, Kyle.”

“Likewise, sir,” she smiled back.

“See you both tonight.” Off he went, down the sidewalk.

Kyle’s gaze lingered on him until he was swallowed up by the lunchtime crowd. “He’s really something, isn’t he, Boss?”

Callahan cocked his head at her. “You should be careful in this sun. It’s makin’ ya nutty.”

“Wait. Are you...” She began to laugh. “I say something nice about the man, and you think I’m getting all goofy for him? You’re the one who’s been out in the sun too long.”

Callahan relaxed as they went back inside. “Ya had me worried, the way you were lookin’ at him.”

She arched an eyebrow. “‘Looking’ at him?”

“Y’know...lookin’,” Callahan said. “That look you get.” Her cool stare didn’t waver. Damn, but she could make him feel like a doof sometimes. “Look, I know that look,” he declared defensively. “I hardly ever see it—that’s why I know it when I see it. The look that means you’re interested.”

Kyle headed toward the back. “I’m gonna go put the champagne on ice.”

Callahan pounced. “You are interested!”

She glanced sidelong at him as he followed her. “What do you think I am, dumb or something? Starship captains are married to their ships. Everybody knows that. You’re not talking to some moony-eyed thing in her twenties here.”

He frowned reproachfully at her as she detoured behind the bar to check the stock list. “No, I’m talkin’ to a woman old enough to know that she shoulda landed herself a guy years ago.”

She grabbed a data pad and stylus. “According to whose standards?”

“Must not be yours, since they’re way too damn high.” Callahan’s voice softened. “You wanna be alone for the rest of your life?”

Kyle smiled at him. “I don’t want to settle.”

He fidgeted. “I’m just worried that one day you’ll wake up with your biological alarm goin’ off, and you’ll see somebody like—like Archer. And you’ll do somethin’...”

“Harebrained?” she asked with amusement.

Callahan shrugged. “He’s a good man. An’ I’m not talkin’ about the hero stuff.”

“Oh, you mean the charming, thoughtful, considerate, gorgeous stuff?” Kyle nodded. “Yeah, I know he’s a good man. The kind a girl could fall head over heels for in a heartbeat.”

He folded his arms. “Hence my worry.”

Kyle patted his face. “You’re sweet, Boss. But stop worrying. I won’t do anything harebrained.” She resumed her trek toward the back storeroom, jotting down ideas for hors d’oeuvres as she went.

“You never said you weren’t interested,” he called after her.

She didn’t look back. “You might want to call the band in early. Canned music is no way for a brand-new husband and wife to have their first dance.”

“I’ll do that.” Callahan watched her thoughtfully for another moment, before he headed upstairs to his office to call the band.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Vulcan Embassy
San Francisco, Earth

Entering the grounds of the Vulcan Embassy was very much like leaving Starfleet: there was the now-requisite walk past Security and the small knot of xenophobes, who were being studiously ignored by all the Vulcans within earshot.

The big difference, though, was that Chuck felt as if he were entering hostile territory. Every Vulcan eye he met seemed cold, remote, haughty. He was about to give up and keep his eyes on the pathway when he realized the Vulcans were turning even more disapproving stares on Lorian, whom they clearly recognized.

That raised Chuck’s hackles, just on principle. What did they have against the boy, anyway? From Trip’s whirlwind introduction, Chuck understood that Lorian had a stellar record, had already been promoted—and he’d helped Jon win the war and save the whole universe, to boot. So what the hell...?

Sonofabitch. It must be because he was half-human. They were prejudiced against a half-human hybrid.

Chuck glanced out of the corner of his eye at Lorian. The calm, self-confident officer he’d met at Forrest’s wake was more subdued now, avoiding the other Vulcans’ searing stares. He looked self-conscious, and...well, a little hurt. It was startling to see emotion cross his features, even though Chuck knew he was as human as he was Vulcan.

Hold on—the Vulcans’ snootily judgmental looks were suddenly dissolving into downcast glances of acquiescence. What was going on now? Surely they weren’t cowed by a couple of humans and a half-breed. That left only...

Soval. The ambassador had directed his trademark scornful glare toward them—toward the Vulcans. It knocked Chuck for a loop, seeing Old Cranky’s withering gaze turned on his own kind, rather than on humans. It proved even more effective, sending the abashed Vulcans scurrying away like scolded children, with nary a word needing to be spoken aloud.

Lorian looked more at ease after that. But Chuck was confused as all hell.

-- -- --

Soval’s quarters were typically Spartan, much like T’Pol’s quarters on Enterprise. Trip spotted a few decorations collected from the ambassador’s thirty-odd years here, though, including an enormous conch shell nestled among the meditation candles, and a couple of watercolors of ocean scenes.

Trip studied the paintings. They weren’t bad. “I thought Vulcans didn’t care much for the ocean.”

“That is true, to a large extent,” Soval replied. “We are unaccustomed to it, the bodies of water on Vulcan being few and small. However, I find the sound of the waves conducive to clearing the mind. I sometimes meditate on the beach.” He inclined his head politely. “Make yourselves comfortable. I shall not be long.” He proceeded alone into the bedroom.

After he was gone, Chuck rolled his eyes. “Soval meditating on the beach,” he muttered. “Seriously, can you picture that guy gettin’ sand in his shoes? Draggin’ the bottom of his pretty robe in the water?” He snickered.

Trip rubbed his eyes. This was already getting old, and they’d hardly even started. “Could you at least try to consider the possibility that we’re not all no-good stinking liars?”

“I never said you were a liar,” Chuck retorted, keeping his voice low. “I just think you’re too willing to take things at face value because your judgment is...impaired.”

Trip’s eyebrows rose. “By what?”

“By something you think is love. For someone whom you think is capable of love.”

Trip threw up his hands. “Now I know why Mom never argues with you. It’s like talkin’ to a brick wall.” He hooked a thumb at Lorian. “I suppose I’m making him up, too?”

Lorian blinked in bemusement, but remained silent.

“That’s different,” Chuck shot back. “His parents were different. They didn’t have Starfleet or the VHC breathin’ down their necks. Didn’t you tell me when Enterprise first launched that T’Pol was some kind of spy?”

Leave it to Dad to remember something like that. “Well, she’s not,” Trip hissed. “And Starfleet thinks T’Pol hung the moon, I’ll have you know. Besides, the VHC doesn’t even exist anymore.”

“So you say.”

“Dammit, Dad, haven’t you heard a word I’ve said?!”

“May I suggest this conversation be continued out of range of Vulcan hearing?” Lorian put in delicately.

In the same soft growl he’d been using, Trip continued, “Aw, Soval doesn’t care. Do you, Soval?”

The old Vulcan’s voice drifted in from the bedroom. “Not at all, Commander.”

Chuck clammed up, staring daggers at Trip.

Soval emerged from the bedroom, pointedly ignoring the strained silence and choosing to act as if the Tuckers’ argument had not taken place. He set a small, beautifully carved wooden chest before his guests. “Vulcans typically prefer attire that is utilitarian in color. Festive hues are seldom worn, as there is little logic to them. However, on ceremonial occasions, they prove quite arresting, and add a certain significance to the proceedings.”

He opened the chest. Inside, neatly folded, were Vulcan robes in a color Trip had never seen before: ivory. The finely-woven fabric was hand-embroidered with intricate Vulcan script and patterns along the borders, in silken thread of ivory and pale blue.

“I’ve never seen anything like them,” Trip marveled. “I’ve hardly ever seen blue on your planet at all.”

“It is found in certain mineral deposits...and in eye color.” Soval nodded toward Lorian. “But both occur rarely.”

Chuck’s practiced carpenter’s eye told him that the wooden chest was easily a century old. “Are they as old as this chest?”

“They are older than Lorian,” Soval confirmed. He carefully took the robes from the chest. Along with the jacket and slacks, there was a floor-length outer ceremonial robe of ivory brocade, also delicately embroidered with pale blue thread.

Lorian was mesmerized by the robes. “The workmanship is exquisite. They are handmade, are they not?”

Soval nodded, his voice soft with affection. “My wife fashioned them herself.” He had a faraway look in his eyes as he absently stroked the finery in his hands, almost a caress. “These were my wedding robes.”

Trip recognized that look. He’d seen it a few weeks ago, when Soval had spoken of his wife while explaining the mating bond. There had been unmistakable tenderness in his eyes and voice then, as now, even though he’d lost her over thirty years ago. The two of them must have shared an extraordinarily close, deep bond.

“Why did she choose blue?” Trip asked.

“Her eyes were blue.” Soval fingered the embroidered hem of the jacket. “Pale, like this...of uncommon rarity and beauty. She knew they were a feature I considered especially agreeable. Her wedding robes were the same color.”

Chuck watched in stunned silence. Soval, an archetype of Vulcanness, the very quintessence of...of Vulchritude...sentimental enough to keep a remembrance of his dead wife? Getting all misty over their wedding day? It didn’t make any sense. Compared to what Chuck had seen of Soval over the years, and all the horror stories he’d heard—especially from Trip and Jon—this man seemed like a completely different...

Wait. Wait just a goddamned minute. It just wasn’t possible.

Soval held the jacket out for Lorian. Hesitantly, the younger man slipped it on over his uniform. Amazingly, the jacket fit well. “Remarkable,” Soval observed. “As if it were made for you.”

“Wait till Karyn sees you.” Trip grinned with fatherly pride. “You look good.”

“Do I?” Lorian ran his fingers lightly down the finely embroidered cloth with a little smile. Then he frowned faintly with consternation as he noticed the length of the sleeves. “The ambassador’s arms are longer than mine, I’m afraid.”

“Catherine can hem those in a jiffy,” Chuck said. “She’s a seamstress.”

“Come.” Soval led Lorian over to a decorative mirror set into the far wall. As Lorian caught sight of his reflection, he drew in a silent breath of wonder.

As Chuck and Trip observed the two Vulcans from across the room, Chuck remarked, “I couldn’t help noticing on the way in...the Vulcans don’t think much of Lorian, do they?”

Trip snorted derisively. “The VHC refused to acknowledge his existence. Even after being presented with a mountain of irrefutable evidence.”

“Why?”

“Simple,” Trip said. “To accept Lorian is to accept the existence of time travel—which, according to the Vulcan Science Directorate, is not possible.”

A slow smile spread on Chuck’s face. “You’re tellin’ me that he’s thrown a monkey wrench into Vulcan scientific dogma?” He chuckled with satisfaction. “That’s rich.”

Trip watched pensively as Soval fastened the collar on Lorian’s jacket. “There’s a downside, though. He’ll probably be treated like a freak by most Vulcans...the result of an ‘unnatural’ union.”

Chuck figured as much, after what he’d seen outside. “Because he’s half-human.”

“Because he’s the first half-human. Vulcans and humans can’t interbreed naturally.”

“Then how...?”

“Effort,” Trip replied. “Sixteen years of experimentation, genetic manipulation...and failed attempts.”

Chuck sobered. “Miscarriages?”

Trip nodded. “Three. And they had a little girl who lived only a few weeks.”

Chuck felt an old, familiar heartache come flaring to life. So this other Trip and T’Pol had suffered the same terrible loss that he and Catherine had. It all happened over a century ago, dozens of light-years away, but it was feeling more and more real to him. He was even beginning to think of the other Trip as some kind of long-lost son.

“I read the medical logs of the other Enterprise,” Trip murmured. “It was awful, what they went through. Even the pregnancy with Lorian was rough. His mother almost died in childbirth. I think it’s a miracle that he lived at all.”

As Soval gathered up the brocade outer robe and carefully helped Lorian into it, Chuck found himself looking at Lorian through the eyes of his birth-parents, who had willingly endured such heartbreak and loss, so determined were they to have this boy to love.

Trip’s voice was soft. “Back in May, when Lorian turned up...T’Pol was married. We thought we’d never be together. We’d become best friends an’ all, but...it still felt as if we were trapped in a nightmare we’d never wake up from.” He nodded toward Lorian. “Then getting him back alive, when we thought we’d lost him...he was all that was left of what might have been. It meant so much...” Trip felt his throat tightening with emotion. The memories were still so vivid.

“You kept this to yourself, all of this,” Chuck said quietly. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

Trip sighed. “It was such a mess. The arranged marriage...neither one of us telling each other how we really felt, because we didn’t want to make it harder. You couldn’t have done anything.”

“We could have listened.”

Trip smiled wryly. “And when I got to the part about suddenly having a son sixty-five years older than me, with a wife I never married, in a life I didn’t live?”

Chuck chewed his lip, then nodded. “You’re right. That part would’ve sounded nuts no matter when you told us.”

The two humans fell silent, watching as Soval adjusted the drape of the outer robe around Lorian’s shoulders. The wedding robes transformed him, giving him the elegant appearance of a classic Vulcan. The striking ivory and blue colors, and the rich brocade, added a touch of dreamlike enchantment to the tableau. He looked magnificent.

“Look at him, Dad,” Trip said with quiet admiration. “That fine-looking man is my son. He’s brilliant, and brave, and funny, and shy. He’s so in love with Karyn, he can’t even see straight. He’s the best of me and T’Pol. He pulled us out of that nightmare and gave us hope, when we didn’t have any. He changed everything for us.” Trip smiled warmly as he watched Lorian gazing at his reflection with a kind of awe, as if he didn’t quite believe what he was seeing. “Having him here...it’s like a gift.”

Chuck nodded, looking from Trip to...to Trip’s son, Lorian. “I see that.” And he really did.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

NX-02 Columbia
Spacedock, orbiting Earth

Karyn, T’Pol, and Catherine emerged from the airlock to find Captain Hernandez waiting for them. “So when were you going to tell me you were getting married in three hours?”

Surprised, Karyn stammered, “Um—now, ma’am.” She indicated her companions. “You know Commander T’Pol. And this is Commander Tucker’s mother, Catherine Tucker.”

Hernandez nodded to each of them. “Commander. And I’m glad to meet you, Mrs. Tucker.”

Karyn was still a bit nonplussed. “How did you know, ma’am?”

“I’m the captain,” Hernandez replied, with a knowing little smile. Then she shrugged. “And...Enterprise’s Chief Quartermaster called our Chief Quartermaster, looking for some supplies. He spilled the beans.”

Now Karyn was curious. “What kind of supplies?”

“I’m not telling,” Hernandez said primly. “Find out at the ceremony.”

“You’ll be there?”

The captain grinned. “You bet.”

-- -- --

Karyn ushered Catherine and T’Pol into the quarters she shared with Lorian. The two women took immediate notice of the double bed extending out of the alcove where Lorian’s narrow bunk used to be.

“The captain’s early wedding present,” Karyn explained with amusement. “She snuck it in here a few days ago, while we were both on duty. She must have had Carpentry custom-build it to fit in there. I think she’s rather been enjoying this whole marriage adventure of ours.”

She crossed to her section of the quarters and started rummaging in the closet. “On our ship, space was always at a premium. No one ever had the luxury of a lot of possessions, but since we were a generational ship, family keepsakes were important.”

She emerged from the closet with a boxy storage case. It was Starfleet issue, but scorched and pockmarked, and very old. “One cargo bay was set aside to store everyone’s family remembrances...whatever each crew member wanted to be able to hand down to their descendants.”

She sat on the big bed, settling the old storage case on her lap, and beckoned T’Pol and Catherine to join her. “When the Kovaalans attacked, we lost most of what was in that cargo bay. When we arrived here, and the ship fell apart, we lost pretty much all that was left. Spacedock workers snagged a few things, though...and this was one of them.” She stroked the case’s pitted surface lightly, almost reverently. “Herein lies the collected memories of the Enterprise Archers. I’m the keeper of the legacy.”

Catherine and T’Pol both regarded the case with interest. “I’ve only looked through it once,” Karyn continued. “Eight years ago, when I put some of my parents’ things in it.”

Catherine’s face filled with sympathy. “Your parents...? You lost them?”

Karyn nodded. “They were on an away mission together.”

Catherine took the younger woman’s hand. “Oh, child, I’m sorry.” She was staggered by the hardships this other Enterprise crew had endured. Stranded in another time, cut off from everyone and everything they knew, burdened with a mission to save Earth from destruction, if they survived long enough...and all the while, suffering horrific losses like this one. “How did you get through it?”

“Lorian,” Karyn said serenely. “He was my captain then, and I was his junior helm officer. He was the only one who understood what I was going through. He put me to work—gave me my dad’s job at the helm. He kept me busy, kept me company, let me talk, let me mope, let me cry...and he grieved with me. Mom and Dad meant a lot to him, too.”

Catherine felt tears welling in her eyes as she listened. “So we helped each other,” Karyn went on. “That’s when we stopped being captain and crewmember, and became friends.” She smiled, transforming in an instant from mature-beyond-her-years survivor to lovestruck bride-to-be. “He was wonderful.”

“Is that when you started...y’know...having feelings for him?” Catherine asked.

Karyn’s eyes danced. “Oh, no. I’d been secretly in love with him since I was nine years old.”

“Nine?” Catherine couldn’t help but laugh. “These Tucker men of ours,” she said, blinking away her tears. “They’re irresistible, aren’t they?”

“That they are,” Karyn agreed.

“Indeed,” T’Pol concurred.

Karyn turned her attention to the storage case once more. As she undid the latches, she felt tears behind her own eyes. She didn’t realize she would get this emotional. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, the way Lorian had taught her...and opened the case.

Inside, nestled within a lining of protective foam, was a neatly packed collection of items, efficiently wedged into the limited space of the storage case...boxes, wrapped parcels, padds, a few framed pictures, some papers. The legacy of four generations.

Karyn took out a small stack of items on top. “These belonged to my parents. Commendations from Captain Lorian, pictures, some personal papers...and these.” She opened a small velvet pouch, and two wedding bands spilled into her hand. The smaller ring was delicate gold filigree. The larger ring, at first glance, looked like white gold...but as Karyn held it up to the light, the silvery metal reflected an iridescent rainbow of colors, like light through a prism.

“Would you look at that,” Catherine breathed.

“Remarkable,” T’Pol said as she studied the play of colors.

“It’s Ikaaran songstone,” Karyn said. “The rarest element on Ikaar. Esilia gave this wedding band to her Jonathan. He passed it down to his son Henry, who gave it to his son...my father.” She looked up at T’Pol and Catherine. “I thought this might make a good wedding ring for Lorian.”

Both women nodded their approval. “It’s perfect,” Catherine smiled.

Karyn fingered the wedding band, shutting her eyes as a lifetime of memories rose up around her, filling her senses. Holding onto Daddy as she learned to walk, her tiny hand barely able to close around one of his fingers...watching the rainbow glint of his wedding band as he turned the pages of the storybook he was reading to her...matching the movements of her hand to his as she practiced working the helm controls in the simulator...taking off his ring, and Mom’s, as she laid them to rest, side by side, in the torpedo tube before the funeral service.

She heard Catherine’s soft voice. “Seems like only yesterday, doesn’t it?”

Karyn opened her eyes, freeing tears that she hadn’t realized were brimming within. Both Catherine and T’Pol’s expressions reflected the understanding that only comes with shared loss. “For you, too?” she murmured.

“I thought it might be different in the new house,” Catherine said quietly. “But I still think I hear Lizzie sometimes. I’m turning and looking for her before I remember that she’s gone.”

“I, too, miss my mother, though for much of my life I did not expect to,” T’Pol confessed. “Trip told me that my reaction is a reflection of the closeness we shared on her last day.”

“The price we pay for loving people is to miss them when they’re gone.” Karyn slipped the wedding band onto her thumb, then picked up a framed picture from where it lay atop the stack of her parents’ papers. “Here’s Mom and Daddy.”

T’Pol and Catherine looked at the picture. A blond man with a touch of Jon’s boyish good looks and strong jawline, along with Karyn’s Ikaaran ridges on his forehead, stood in the casually affectionate embrace of a lovely ebony-haired Asian woman who bore a close resemblance to Karyn.

Karyn’s voice was warm with remembrance. “My mother Olivia was the ship’s xenobiologist, and my father was Chief Helm Officer.” She smiled at Catherine. “He was named Charles, after your son. Everybody called him Charlie.”

Catherine was charmed. “He looks like a Charlie.” She glanced back at the stack of papers, in search of more pictures...but the top page caught her eye. It looked like parchment, with verses in handwritten calligraphy: We have come together, in the presence of family, surrounded by love, to celebrate your vows of marriage... She picked up the paper. “Are these your parents’ wedding vows?”

Karyn smiled at the parchment in surprise. “I’d forgotten that was in here! Yes. My parents wrote them. There’s Ikaaran folklore imagery in there, and human vows, all mixed together.”

Catherine was reading through the verses. “These are lovely.”

She passed the parchment to T’Pol, who scanned it and nodded. “Quite appropriate to the occasion.” She handed it to Karyn. “Have you considered using these vows for your own wedding?”

“Actually, I hadn’t...” A smile blossomed on Karyn’s face as she read the vows. “These take on a whole new meaning, now that I’m getting married myself in a few hours.”

“Does Lorian know about them?” Catherine asked.

“He’s the one who married my parents,” Karyn replied. “He’ll recognize them as soon as he hears them.” She giggled impishly. “But he doesn’t need to know until then.”

Catherine set the parchment aside. “We’ll make sure Jon gets them. They can be your Something Borrowed.”

T’Pol frowned in puzzlement. “Something borrowed?”

“It’s a human tradition,” Karyn explained. “On her wedding day, the bride needs ‘Something Old, Something New, Something Borrowed, and Something Blue’.”

“Why?”

Catherine laughed. “You sound like Lorian.”

“You must admit, Catherine, that some human traditions are so far removed from the circumstances that compelled their creation that they are inexplicable.”

Catherine smiled playfully at her. “Surely there must be a few Vulcan traditions you find equally silly. Such as...oh, I don’t know...arranged marriages?”

T’Pol nodded. “I concede your point.”

Karyn was back in the storage case, carefully working her way to the bottom. Finally she came to a flat, rectangular box. As she pulled it out, she said, “This can be my Something Blue...if it fits.” She opened the box and lifted out a dress...or was it a creation spun by fairies in an enchanted forest? Shimmering opalescent ice-blue fabric, plaited together at the form-fitting bodice, billowed out at the waist into a full skirt. And with it, a translucent veil of lustrous ice-blue, fluttering like gossamer from a circlet of silver.

Catherine was almost speechless. “It’s stunning. Is it Ikaaran?”

Karyn nodded as she laid the dress out on the bed. “Esilia wore it when she married Papa.”

“An exquisite choice,” T’Pol said softly as she admired the dress.

“This definitely qualifies as your Something Blue,” Catherine said. “And your Something Old. All you need now is Something New.”

Karyn chuckled. “I’m fourth-generation Expanse Enterprise. None of us ever had anything new.” She smoothed out the iridescent fabric of the dress...her wedding dress. It was more beautiful than she remembered. “Do you think it’ll fit?”

“Don’t you worry, child,” Catherine clucked confidently. “I’ve been a seamstress all my life. I’ll make sure it fits.” She examined the dress with a critical eye. “Those Ikaaran designers were sharp. Look here—the sides lace up. And in the back, here. That means we can adjust it to fit you.”

“Good.” Karyn let out a happy sigh of relief.

“Now, the length...let’s see. T’Pol, lend me a hand here...” As T’Pol held the dress up to Karyn, Catherine checked the hemline. “It looks like your great-grandma was a tad shorter than you, if anything,” she judged. “I think we’ll be fine.”

Karyn caught a look at her reflection in the viewport, with T’Pol still holding the dress up to her, and she gasped softly. “It’s like something out of a fairy tale.”

T’Pol regarded Karyn’s striking reflection. “I begin to understand this custom of forbidding the groom to see the bride before the ceremony.”

Catherine rose, standing on Karyn’s other side, and admired the view. “I can’t wait to see the look on Lorian’s face when he sees you in this.”

Karyn couldn’t take her eyes off the shimmering image in the viewport, couldn’t keep the smile off her face. This was really happening. In less than three hours, she would be marrying the love of her life.

Catherine knew it would take a little getting used to, having a Vulcan daughter-in-law and a hundred-year-old grandson. But she had found Karyn immediately appealing. Was it her calm, take-charge attitude? Or maybe it was the way she had with Tucker men. Catherine had seen how Trip doted on her. Lorian obviously adored her. Even Chuck seemed to take a shine to her.

Perhaps it was because her sunny sweetness reminded Catherine of Elizabeth. The ready smile, the shy giggle...even when Lizzie was an accomplished architect of twenty-eight, her girlish charm hadn’t left her. Not that anyone could ever replace her...but knowing Karyn was family, knowing Catherine would watch her marry, excel at her career, perhaps have a family, and all the while be so loved...it seem to make up, just the tiniest bit, for not being able to see Lizzie do the same things.

Catherine turned back toward the viewport. They all gazed at Karyn’s dreamlike reflection, crowned by an infinity of stars in the velvety blackness of space...a fairy-tale princess in shimmering ice-blue, preparing to be wed to her charming prince.

Catherine took a step back and regarded the two of them...stunningly beautiful T’Pol, the epitome of Vulcan composure, who nevertheless cherished Trip enough to pledge her life to his...and kind, spirited Karyn, who had coaxed Jon from his troubled solitude and captured Lorian’s heart. The three of them couldn’t be more different, but they were family now, in all but name. Catherine found that she was warming to the idea.

~~tbc~~

Continue to Part Five, Chapter 7

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A whole mess of folks have made comments

I am consistently amazed at the quality of your work; keep it up, HR, and I'll be here for the long run!

Yay! Wedding time! And you still managed to put it off for another chapter. Enough already, I want to see a wedding, dangit! Great, superb, marvelous, as usual. More, please! And soon! :)

WOW HR!!!!!!!! I dont know where your gettin all this from but I sure hope your well dont dry up any time soon.,,, This chapie was just so beautiful,,, from Chuck comin around an gettin all protective even if a bit reluctant at times,,,,, to Karyn's beautiful scene with Polly an Cahterine,,, an how she was goin through what sound's about as close to a hope chest that I guess the porr gal has,, so Sweet an sad that she think bout her parents on her happiest day.,,,,,,,,,,,Oh are you tryin to set Archer up again or make a certin other Capn jealous??,,, Well any whos just wonderful chapie,,, now can ya hurry up an get to the weddin night,,, an maybe have TnT celebrate their sons marriage in private later on ;) if ya catch my drift.

Yay! I was waiting for this one...what? No wedding? Arrrrrrrrghghgh...LOL

Great chapter!

;)

I really loved this installment. I loved the detail you gave to Karyn and Chuck, you made them more believable and we feel for them and can't wait for Lorian/karyn's wedding.

Ditto on the great chapter. I can't wait for a follow up to the wedding scene and beyond. Ditto on the quality of your work, also.

HR, you're just the greatest. I had to leave a comment. The final section, with Karyn, Catherine, and T'Pol, still gets me. It's so incredibly beautiful -- all of it, from the wedding dress to Catherine's slow revelation.

Thank you for this wonderful chapter!

Great work! Can't wait to the next chapter!

HR! This is just fantastic. Your story is filled with hope an sweetness. I love it. I've totally fallen in love with Lorian (and I've neve seen E2!), thanks to your story.

Please don't keep us waiting too long for the much anticipated wedding!

YAY! The long awaited Part 4!! Well worth the wait HR. This is going to be some wedding despite the last minute planning! I guess I don't need to say "More Please"! :)

Oh wow. *sniffle* That was just wonderful! I am so in love with your characters, HR. Please hurry up and give us a wedding! I'll be sure to bring more Kleenex.

I'm definitely picturing Tommy Lee Jones when I read Chuck's lines ... loved this one: Chuck shrugged. “You’re right. That part would’ve sounded nuts no matter when you told us.” LOL!

Outstanding.

Absolutely beautiful.

Loved it. Nice to see Chuck is finding out what it's like on the recieving end of some of that hate, gives him something to think about. Loved Trip's “Aw, Soval doesn’t care. Do you, Soval?” and the way Chuck glared at him afterwards. And the scene between Karyn, T'Pol and Catherine and Karyn's hope chest...perfect. Can't wait for the wedding. Glad Archer remembered there should be a reception, and how wonderful that he thought of having it where Loraina and Karyn fell in love...

I love your version of season 4, especially because Lorian is alive and Trip and T'Pol are together. I also like the idea that Trip's dad wasn't so happy about his son's choose of girlfriend.

Great story! I hope you'll update soon!

Started reading your series of fics on Thursday and finished the last chapter today. All I can say is... "update soon, I beg of you!!!!!!" This entire universe you've created is so well-written and the characterizations are so spot on! There were several bits that had me literally bawling my eyes out while reading it. Can't wait to read what happens next!

I also just read several chapters in a row, not realizing this was the last one, for now.... Like a good book I couldn't put down. Really enjoyed this. If only we had seen this on the show!