Homecoming

Homecoming

Ragua

Date: May 29, 2004
Rating: PG-13 (Language)
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Paramount. I get no money—just havin’ a little fun.
Summary: Tucker family reunion causes less trouble for T’Pol than one would expect. It does stress Trip out, though. No nookie for that boy.
Archive: Sure, why not. Just let me know.

Author's notes: Semi-sequel to Challenges.

Homecoming

Where we love is home,
Home that our feet may leave,
But not our hearts.
—Oliver Wendell Holmes

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

Chapter 1

Comforts of Home

“After your last transmission, I decided to come out and escort Enterprise home personally.” Admiral Forrest couldn’t stop smiling.

“It’s an honor and a pleasure, Admiral,” Jonathan Archer answered. “And a relief. If you have any extra techs or engineers, that would be even better.”

“Jon, we’ve got any kind of personnel you might need,” Forrest beamed. “We’ve even got a couple of extra special guests who demanded to be part of the welcoming committee!”

Archer grimaced. “They aren’t Vulcans, are they?” He knew it was petty of him, but he couldn’t help but feel slightly bitter about the Vulcans’ lack of help during the entire Xindi crisis.

Forrest laughed. “No, they’re definitely not Vulcans! You could probably say they’re the complete opposite!” Still chuckling, the admiral signed off, leaving Captain Archer confused, but curious.

The opposite of Vulcans? Andorians, maybe?

* * *

Uncertain just how important the special guests might be, the captain requested the presence of his entire bridge staff at the airlock meeting. If they were Andorians, then a show of strength might not be such a bad idea. It certainly couldn’t hurt to have his Chief of Security present.

Admiral Forrest barreled out of the airlock as soon as the door was open. “Captain Archer!” For one horrifying moment, Archer thought that the admiral was going to hug him. Forrest, however, satisfied himself with an enthusiastic handshake, pumping the captain’s arm so vigorously that Archer felt his shoulder ache. Before he could return the admiral’s greeting, one of the people who had followed Forrest out of the airlock fastened onto him like a leech.

“Jon!” The person was hugging him so tightly that Archer was sure he heard his ribs creak, but he didn’t care. Once he figured out the identity of his assailant, he returned the hug with equal enthusiasm.

“Mrs. Tucker!” Damn! The woman could hug like nobody’s business. Trip’s mom should have been a wrestler. It had been a long time since anyone had hugged him like this. Hell, he couldn’t remember the last time he had been hugged like this! It felt good.

Finally, she held him out at arms length and looked up into his face, worried. “Oh honey, you look so tired. Have you been getting enough sleep?”

“Not lately,” Archer admitted. “But I think that we’ll probably be getting a bit of time of to rest up soon. Right, Admiral?” Forrest, who had been standing back and enjoying the scene, nodded, smiling indulgently.

Now a lanky man, who had wisely avoided getting between Mrs. Tucker her dispensation of affection, stepped forward with his hand out. “Jon. You did real good out here.”

Archer took the man’s hand and smiled. “Thanks, Mr. Tucker.” He glanced around at his staff, who were looking variously amused, curious, or—in T’Pol’s case—stoic. “Let me introduce you to our bridge officers. Lieutenant Reed, our Arm—”

Before the captain could finish, Malcolm was caught in Mrs. Tucker’s viselike grip. Reed, shocked by the familiarity, patted her back tentatively and glanced at his crewmates for help. T’Pol’s expression did not change, but Hoshi and Travis smirked openly at his predicament.

After what seemed an eternity to the staid armory officer, Mrs. Tucker released him. “Malcolm, sweetie, you’re so thin!” she admonished, patting his cheek. “But I’ve got a pineapple upside-down cake that should take care of that!”

“She fired up the oven as soon as we got the go-ahead to join the admiral’s welcoming party,” Mr. Tucker added drolly.

Mrs. Tucker nodded her agreement. “Yes, we brought something for everybody!” She seemed to require no further introductions. “Strawberry shortcake for you, honey,” she told Travis as she gave him her standard issue, bone-cracking hug. “And not that nasty nutrapack stuff, either. That’s just wrong, young man.” Her eyes narrowed at the thought of “fake” food.

“Yes, ma’am!” Travis agreed hastily, not wanting to endanger his care package with a differing opinion.

Hoshi’s care package was her favorite: pizza from Fiorella's. “And a good thing we brought two of them,” Mrs. Tucker opined, after crushing the breath out of the Communications Officer. “You’re just a little bit of a thing!”

Mrs. Tucker was moving toward Enterprise’s lone Vulcan officer when her husband intercepted her. He had been traveling unobtrusively in her wake, shaking the hand of each person in turn after his wife had moved on to her next victim. Now he reached out and took her by the elbow as she advanced on T’Pol.

“Sugar, you know Vulcans don’t like to be touched,” he chided gently. Mrs. Tucker did know this, apparently, and stopped short, appalled at her near brush with bad manners. Mr. Tucker faced T’Pol and held up his right hand, but the Vulcan salute eluded him. There was a brief interlude as he wrestled with his fingers, trying to force them into the appropriate position.

“Definite family resemblance,” Malcolm deadpanned, sotto voce, to Hoshi and Travis, as they watched Trip’s father fight a losing battle. Finally, Mr. Tucker gave up, to the relief of all the humans, who could not have held in their laughter for much longer. Even his wife was biting her lips and turning pink with suppressed amusement.

“Well,” he said lamely, looking from his intransigent hand to T’Pol, “You know what it’s s’posed ta look like. Live long and prosper, Miss T’Pol.”

T’Pol, the only bridge officer who had maintained a straight face during Mr. Tucker’s digital contortions, held up her own hand in a flawless salute. “Peace and long life, Mr. Tucker, Mrs. Tucker.” She inclined her head solemnly, acknowledging each of them in turn. “Commander Tucker will be very pleased to learn of your visit.”

As if waiting for this cue, Trip’s parents turned their heads in unison to Captain Archer. Jonathan needed no prodding. “I visited Trip in sickbay not too long before you arrived, so he’s probably sleeping now. But we can definitely go and check in. You can get the latest update from Doctor Phlox.” He looked at his bridge officers. “Travis, why don’t you and Hoshi stow Mr. and Mrs. Tucker’s gear in Trip’s quarters.”

The admiral knew how to exit gracefully. “Maybe while you’re in sickbay, Lieutenant Reed can give me a tour of the ship and an update of your status.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Archer responded, grateful to Forrest for his sensitive handling of the situation. He glanced at T’Pol. What definition of family should he use for this reunion? “Sub-Commander, why don’t you come with us. You can fill Mr. and Mrs. Tucker in on all Trip’s heroics in your encounter with the sphere builders.”

“Of course, Captain,” T’Pol agreed. Mr. Tucker’s eyes lit up at the captain’s praise. T’Pol attempted to do his human imagination justice as she recounted the tale during the journey to sickbay. Mrs. Tucker remained silent, but she eyed the Vulcan speculatively.

* * *

Doctor Phlox, a devoted family man himself, was delighted to meet Commander Tucker’s parents. He was equally adamant, however, that his patient not be wakened. Phlox explained Trip’s condition to his parents in professional detail, and gently but firmly stated that he would contact them as soon as their son awoke. Mrs. Tucker did not argue the decision, but Mr. Tucker tried an end run around Phlox’s prohibitions.

“Could we at least see him? We’ll keep quiet,” he assured Phlox, although it was his wife he looked to for confirmation. Mrs. Tucker nodded, first at her husband, and then at Phlox. The doctor sighed and led them to a curtained off section of sickbay. Archer and T’Pol followed at a discreet distance. Neither could see Trip, but even if he had been visible from where they stood, the intensity of his parents’ reaction would have made looking elsewhere impossible.

Mrs. Tucker made an instinctive move forward, but quickly controlled herself. Her hands rose swiftly to her face, as if trying to hold in any sound she might make. Her husband stood behind her, grasping her shoulders, but whether it was to offer support to his wife or to keep himself on his feet was uncertain. T’Pol remembered her initial view of Commander Tucker after the explosion and tried to imagine how much worse the sight must be for his parents.

Mr. Tucker slowly began to back away, drawing his wife with him. She turned in his grasp and put her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. He returned the embrace fiercely, never taking his horrified eyes off his son. Phlox drew the curtain back around his patient, then attempted to assuage their fears. “Commander Tucker has improved a great deal in the last two weeks. I really must assure you that his condition is not as bad as it appears.”

“That’s not saying a hell of a lot, Doc,” Mr. Tucker lashed out, “’cause it looks pretty damned bad!”

Phlox lowered his eyes and wisely said nothing, but Mrs. Tucker took exception to her husband’s language. “Charles Tucker Jr., watch that mouth!” she snapped.

Mr. Tucker looked sulky, but also slightly abashed. “Sorry, hon.” He hugged her tighter and stared at the ground. “Sorry, Doc.”

Captain Archer cleared his throat. “Maybe we can go to the mess and have some tea or something, while we wait for Trip to wake up,” he suggested. Mr. Tucker shot the captain a disgusted look, so reminiscent of his son that Jonathan smiled. “Or maybe we can have something a little more...substantial.” This was apparently more to Mr. Tucker’s liking, and he nodded approvingly. Their small party silently left sickbay.

* * *

Jonathan and Mr. Tucker were well into their third glass of bourbon when Phlox hailed the captain over the comm. “Commander Tucker is awake and ready to receive visitors, Captain,” Phlox’s jovial voice announced over the speaker.

“Understood, Doctor,” Archer acknowledged. “You didn’t spoil the surprise, did you?”

“I most certainly did not,” Phlox huffed, affronted by the accusation.

Archer grinned at Trip’s parents. “We’re on our way.”

* * *

T’Pol and the captain were hard-pressed to keep up with the Tuckers on their way to sickbay. For a couple pushing 70, they were remarkably speedy. Still, Archer managed to jump ahead of them as the group entered sickbay. He could not stop grinning as he strode to the partition and peeked around it.

“Hey, Cap’n,” Trip’s voice, still gravelly from his injuries, was barely audible.

“Hey, Trip,” Archer greeted him. “There are a couple of dignitaries who were really anxious to see you. I hope you don’t mind that T’Pol and I brought them straight down.” T’Pol had edged up to Archer’s right so that Trip’s parents might remain obscured until the last minute.

Trip cocked his head at them, puzzled but curious. “No, not at all, but—” he drew his breath in a gasp as his father and mother appeared from behind Archer and T’Pol. At first, Trip was unable to form any words except for a startled, high-pitched “Oh!” Then, in a cracked voice, words which Jonathan Archer was positive had not come out of his mouth in more than 25 years: “Daddy!” and finally “Mama!”

Mrs. Tucker gently took his face between her hands and kissed his forehead, just above his remaining eyebrow. With infinite tenderness, she then pressed her cheek against his unbandaged one. Trip’s good arm flopped around on the bed as he tried unsuccessfully to put it around his mother. Deftly, she ducked her head so that he could manage the embrace. Mr. Tucker covered his son’s hand with his own, helping maintain the hug. He smiled down at Trip over his wife’s shoulder.

If the captain knew the Tuckers, tears were sure to be flowing soon. He was having difficulty swallowing the ache that rose in his own throat as he backed away from the scene. Even T’Pol looked suspiciously glassy-eyed as she followed his example, leaving Trip and his parents to their privacy.

* * *

T’Pol attempted to focus on the small talk between the doctor and Captain Archer as they sat waiting the allotted time for the visit to end. Unfortunately, her superior hearing made the other conversation taking place in sickbay difficult to ignore. It certainly interested her more than Phlox’s description of the mating habits of his Pyrithian bat.

Mrs. Tucker seemed to be focusing on the mundane as a coping mechanism. “Oh baby, your pretty hair.”

“It’ll grow back, Mom. It’ll look fine,” her son promised her. “Everything’s gonna be fine.”

T’Pol could hear nothing from Mr. Tucker, but she concluded that he must be weeping from his son’s next words.

“Dad, stop it,” Trip pleaded. “I’m okay. Don’t do that. Phlox says I’m gonna be fine.” The delivery of the reassurances, in a voice hoarse from inhalation of warp plasma residue, seemed to belie the words. The reassurances certainly did not serve their intended purpose, as sounds of distress and concern continued to emanate from behind the partition.

T’Pol could endure it no longer. She stood up abruptly, surprising Archer and Phlox. “It appears that my presence is no longer required here, Captain,” she explained. “With your permission, I will return the bridge.” She began to move toward the exit even before the captain had acquiesced. He followed her.

“Is all the emotion,” he glanced at the partition, “bothering you?” At one time, his question would have been snide. Now it merely indicated concern.

T’Pol, surprised that he was so perceptive, gave an honest response. “In part. However, Commander Tucker’s reunion with his parents has made me realize that it has been some time since I had contact with my own family. It is...disconcerting.”

Archer’s shocked face told her that this was the last response he had expected. “Maybe you should just skip the bridge and go write to them.” When she raised an eyebrow at him, he added, smiling, “Consider it an order.”

T’Pol nodded. “Understood,” she replied meekly. And with that, she exited sickbay, leaving the captain shaking his head in wonder.

Chapter 2

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A whole mess of folks have made comments

I really like Trip's parents. Mrs. Tucker's approach to the various crew members was priceless. Please update soon.

Fantastic story! I'm looking forward to the big revelation. Please write more - soon!!!

This reads like the beginning to a really great story! I'm looking forward to more. Thank you.

Love it! Can't wait for the next part, just want to hug Trip myself (gently of course). You have done a wonderful job with his parents and handling the emotional reunion. I really liked how Trip's reunion with his parents affected T'Pol so much. Please write more! Ali D :~)

Please continue with this story. Please

This looks like it's going to be part of a series (please say yes!). I really like the way you've portrayed Trip's parents -- emotional and outgoing (at least his mom!), but not overly so. Just the way I imagined his parents to be. Very nicely done!

Very nice. I liked Trip's parents a lot, and I really liked how you showed the captain's change in attitude toward T'Pol's reactions:

"Is all the emotion,” he glanced at the partition, “bothering you?” At one time, his question would have been snide. Now it merely indicated concern.

Very intuitive. :D) Can't wait for the next one!

Oh PLEASE don't leave me hanging for long til we get the next chapter!! I NEED to know what happened Trip!!! :)

And how T'pol reacted, and how T'pol worried, and how T'pol hovered, and how T'pol stayed by his side, and..........well, I think you get the picture!! :)

Yes, I do realize I'm obsessed!!

Fun, fun tale. The pick up of emotion and the characters appreciating the changes that they have made is great. Thanks for the work and please continue.

Fun, fun tale. The pick up of emotion and the characters appreciating the changes that they have made is great. Thanks for the work and please continue.