Children at Play

Children at Play

By Samantha Quinn

Rating: PG
Genre: A/U, a teeny, tiny, itsy, bitsy bit angsty. But mostly silly fluff.

Pairing: Since I recently received my very first *flame* from an A/T'Per (as if I don’t mark all my stories CLEARLY), I’ll point out that some scenes in this story may lean towards being T'P/Tu. It’s not the focus, but you’ll see my bias. Or you could see it as friendship.

Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek, its sequels or its prequel. Not making any money, so please don’t sue. I suppose I own T'Lanna, theoretically.

Spoiler: Haha! Absolutely none. Inspired by a scene from "Extinction," but if you haven’t seen it you won’t know it. But other than that, this is a creepy alternate universe that will never be seen on screen-thank God, the prophets, Surak, and Kahless.

A/N: This is a teeny tiny sequel of sorts to my old, entirely-too-complicated story, "And Baby Makes Four." If you are curious as to how T’Lanna came to be, I recommend reading that story. The breakdown for those of you with little patience or those with a lack of love for time travel, is thus: T’Lanna is the daughter of Malcolm, Trip, and T’Pol. She was conceived scientifically, not the old fashioned way. You don’t really have to have read ABMF to understand the story. This is seriously not betaed, as my betas are currently hard at work on another fic, so all mistakes are acknowledged and apologized for in advance.

Summary: On what would have been Elizabeth Tucker’s 34th birthday, an alternate universe version of Trip wonders if staying at home was such a good idea after all-until he receives a reminder as to why he left the Enterprise after all.

T’Lanna Tucker-Reed was trying very hard not to frown. After all, just last week Tereaha, her Andorian classmate on Science Station Two, had stated loudly the opinion that T’Lanna wasn’t really a Vulcan. In fact, Tereaha was under the impression that because T’Lanna had two human parents, she was decidedly more human than Vulcan and therefore couldn’t expect to be able to be as Vulcan as the great Ambassador T'Pau, whose speech had been broadcast to the station during the opening ceremony of something called the United Federation of Planets.

T’Lanna was certain Tereaha was wrong-she could be as Vulcan as T'Pau. Tereaha insisted otherwise. As a result, T’Pol had made T’Lanna write a thirty page report on why pulling another species antennae was not appropriate Vulcan behavior.

Still, the incident had made T’Lanna determined to prove her Vulcanness, to the consternation of her human parents, and to T’Pol, if she was honest about it. The nine year old Vulcan-human hybrid had been doing quite well, up to the moment Malcolm walked into her bedroom to tuck her in-alone. Traditionally, her mother tucked her in and left, allowing room for her father’s to say their goodnights-which they always did together.

"Where's daddy?" T’Lanna demanded. If she had thought of it, she would have realized perhaps that 'daddy' was not the most Vulcan of phrases. But there was very little alternative--Malcolm was 'father,' after all. Logically, she needed some way to separate her paternal units. The less formal moniker was given to Trip-an act that T’Pol had noted as 'quite logical.' T’Lanna was very proud of her mother’s praise, as emotional as such feelings were.

At the mention of Trip, Malcolm sighed deeply and sat on the edge of his daughter’s bed. "Well, love," he began, "your dad’s not feeling quite up to par this evening."

T'Lanna's resolve failed her and she gave way to a frown. Turning her Reed-grey eyes up to meet Malcolm’s identical ones, she reminded the more serious of her fathers, "Daddy wasn’t feeling 'up to par' at dinner either." That was certainly true-while he had attended their evening meal, Trip had eaten little. T’Lanna had protested that Trip had been allowed to 'play' with his food in manners which she could not, but had quickly been chastised by her mother for doing so. "He didn’t eat very much, and you know how much Daddy likes food."

Malcolm chuckled softly. "Yes, love, I do."

T’Lanna squirmed in irritation in her bed. "Well, what’s wrong with him?" she demanded.

Malcolm sighed and tousled his daughter’s dirty-blonde curls. The action earned him a well placed glare from the child who had temporarily forgotten that glares were not appropriate actions for a 'true' Vulcan-a fact Malcolm graciously decided not to point out. "He just received some rather . . . unfortunate reminders of something . . . unfortunate today," Malcolm answered finally.

T'Lanna's frown deepened. Unfortunate reminders of something unfortunate? "That's terribly vague, father," she complained.

"Do you recall your aunt Elizabeth?" Malcolm questioned.

T’Lanna nodded gravely, having been told of her late aunt numerous times by her daddy. "Yes. She died in the Xindi attack on Earth. The attack was a . . . pre-emptive . . . measure taken by Xindi forces in an effort to keep--"

"Very good, love," Malcolm interrupted. “It’s good to know you've kept up on your history, despite being a Tucker," he added, with a gentle squeeze of her nose. I

"But what does Aunt Elizabeth have to do with daddy not feeling. . . up to par?" T’Lanna questioned, fumbling slightly with the unfamiliar wording.

Malcolm smiled in spite of himself, at his daughter’s efforts to imitate him. "Today would have been Elizabeth’s thirty-fourth birthday," he explained. “It has made Trip more than a bit nostalgic--that's the age he was when you were born." He isn’t ignoring you--he's just a bit caught up in his own thoughts."

"Like Mother was last year when she was sick?" T’Lanna asked.

Malcolm paused and decided it wouldn’t be a lie to say, "Yes." It would be up to T’Pol to explain Vulcan biology, after all.

Fighting off a yawn, T’Lanna leaned back into the pillow and looked at her father quizzically. "I don’t understand. Daddy has never acted so illogically in the past."

"La," Malcolm answered, using his nickname for her. "Trip's never acted logically a day in his life."

Giggling in a most un-Vulcan manner, T’Lanna admitted, "Mother would agree with you."

"She'd also agree that it’s past time for you to go to sleep," Malcolm added. "Is there anything you’d like before you retire for the night?"

T’Lanna snuggled down into her covers. "A story would be pleasant," she answered him, in her best haughty Vulcan voice.

"And what type of story would you find the most pleasant?" Malcolm asked.

T’Lanna contemplated that for a moment. Her three parents excelled in different types of stories. Trip provided hours of amusement in the form of 'nursery rhymes' and 'fairy tales' while T’Pol preferred tales with a moral code-usually that taught by the great Surak. Malcolm, on the other hand, told excellent stories involving battles. Occasionally, T’Lanna would request a story of Surak from Trip or a battle tale from T’Pol and a nursery rhyme from Malcolm-because, truth be told, the nine year enjoyed seeing her parents struggle with a skill beyond their grasp. But tonight, with Trip’s presence already causing her some discomfort, T’Lanna requested Malcolm’s best.

"A battle story, eh?" Malcolm paused in consideration. "Would 'King Arthur' be pleasant enough?"

T’Lanna’s gray eyes sparkled in anticipation of an old favorite. "That would be extremely pleasant," she said enthusiastically.

The story was compressed, of course. It took Malcolm 24 minutes to tell the story, during which T’Lanna forced her eyes to stay open to hear the very end. Naturally, there were some missing sections-Reed didn’t find it appropriate to explain to his daughter the purpose of nunneries quite yet. When the story was complete, Malcolm leaned forward and gave his daughter a soft kiss on the forehead. "Night, father," the tired child murmured.

"Night, La. I love you," Malcolm said softly. Due to his own distant father, Malcolm had been determined to be more emotionally available to his offspring. He marveled sometimes that he’d ever believed he’d had a choice.

"Love you too," T’Lanna whispered.

~~

While Malcolm tucked in T’Lanna, T’Pol was attempting to persuade Trip to confide in her. She was having less success than she had anticipated.

"Ya don’t have any siblings, T’Pol,” Trip said irritably. “Ya just don’t understand."

T’Pol cocked an eyebrow. "I am here so that you may explain the situation to me," she explained patiently.

Trip sighed. "Look, T’Pol, I’m too tired right now. I’ll talk to you later," he promised.

T’Pol paused before continuing. "Charles, last year I came to you with a situation that is considered quite guarded in my culture--"
"Yes, I’m aware of that," Trip snapped. "You don’t have ta remind me. Do I need to remind ya how that little scenario ended?"

T’Pol furrowed her brows. “It ended as it must, Charles. Regardless of the end result, I came to you out of trust and friendship. I would hope that you would be inclined to do the same."

“Well, I’m not. Good night, T’Pol,” Trip said firmly.

Having little choice, T’Pol straightened her back, clasped her hands behind her back, and replied crisply, "Good night, Commander."

"Oh, drop it, T’Pol,” Trip snapped, again angry, although not necessarily at T'Pol. "I'm not a Commander anymore than you're a Sub-Commander. Our ranks are only an excuse for Starfleet to say they have a presence on this station, when they don't.

"Is that what concerns you-the lack in ability to rise in rank?" T’Pol questioned. That was not something she expected. Typically, Trip was not this egocentric.

Trip laughed bitterly. "No, T’Pol, it isn’t the lack of ability to rise in rank. God, do you really think I’m that selfish?" he demanded.

"No, Charles, I do not. However, you seemed disturbed--"

"Shouldn't I be disturbed?" Trip interrupted.

T’Pol wisely waited and opted not to say anything. Instead of an angry outburst, Trip collapsed down on his bed and placed his head in his hands. "She would have been thirty-four today," he murmured softly, rubbing his forehead. "That's the same age I was when T’Lanna was born. Lizzy always talked about having kids," he added. "She was so patient, so lovin'. . . she woulda made a great mom. But now she never will."

T’Pol knew the source of Trip’s grief. She also understood the propensity to grieve for what may never occur. "Charles," she said quietly. When he didn’t respond, T’Pol stood somewhat awkwardly, waiting to find the correct words. Rarely was T’Pol speechless. Now, however, was definitely one of those times.

To fill the void, Trip continued, "She used to tell me all the time how much she couldn’t wait to start a family. Even had the names picked out-Aubrey Katherine and Satchel Tyler. I used to . . . she confided so much in me, T'Pol." Trip stopped and took several deep breaths to control himself. Nearly nine years had come and gone since Elizabeth’s death and it still affected him as though it had occurred yesterday.

"I am certain she found you to be a worthy confidante," T’Pol assured the man in front of her.

Trip snorted. "She shouldn’t have," he retorted. "Her wishes and dreams-all of 'em, not just the wishes of babies-were stolen from her, and what’d I do about it? Nothing. Absolutely nothing."

"Charles, there was nothing you could have done to prevent-" T’Pol began, but she was again interrupted by Trip.
"I know that, T'Pol. But I coulda done something to avenge her death. I coulda fought back against the bastards that robbed her of every dream she had," Trip said mournfully.

T'Pol's brows furrowed in confusion. "Charles, we had this conversation when Elizabeth was first declared deceased. You decided to stay here because of your obligations to your daughter," she reminded him.

Trip smiled sadly. "I know, T’Pol. But the Xindi war only lasted a couple years. I coulda fought in it and come back-and maybe I should have. Then I wouldn’t feel like I had betrayed my sister’s memory so much, ya know?"

"Charles, there can be no benefit in reliving the past," T’Pol told him firmly. "Although time travel appears to be possible, we have not yet learned to master it."

Before Trip could respond, his quarters were filled with the sound of the persistent beep of the comm. channel. "Damnit," Trip grumbled as he snapped the connection on. "Tucker here. What’s wrong, Chris?" he questioned of the night shift chief engineer.

"Sorry to bother you, Boss," the other man responded. “But we've got a problem down here and it’s something we think you should take a look at it."

"All right. I’ll be right there," Trip answered. "Tucker out."

Turning towards T’Pol, Trip offered a sad smile. "Gotta run, Sub-Commander. I’ll see ya tomorrow at breakfast."

T’Pol nodded. "T'Lanna shall enjoy that. She was disconcerted at your discomfort tonight."

Trip sighed. “I’m sorry. I should learn to mask my emotions better, I guess, when I’m around her."

T’Pol shook her head. “There is no need to apologize. It is not your fault. She’s quite an observant child."

“Yeah, she’s a lot like her mama," Trip agreed as they walked out of his quarters and into the corridor. "By the way, thanks, T’Pol-for listening."

T’Pol did not hesitate in responding, “There is no need to thank me, Charles. I was simply returning a friendship you have always extended towards me."

With that, T’Pol headed towards her quarters and Trip headed towards his department.

~~~~~

end

Continue to Chapter 2

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Three people have made comments

It wasn't quite up to par(sorry, had to) with AMBF, but one can't expect a spark twice. I liked the story, only it seemed like there should have been a little more to it, somewhere. Whether it was T'Lanna finding Trip or what. Either way, I enjoyed it.

Happy to see you write some more to the story though this felt more like a teaser, as if setting up the next part to come in an ongoing story arc. Please don't leave it there! Thanks,
Ali D :~)
The only thing better than Trip is MORE Trip...

Quick comments-

First, there's a chapter missing-I let Bucky know.

Secondly, this IS "silly fluff." It's purpose is apparent in the second chapter. But, there's absolutely no way it's going to approach the scope of "ABMF." I've been contemplating a larger scale story arc, but it won't be done for a while, given the vast amount of people left confused by ABMF, and my time issues. If it occurs, that will be more serious. This is not meant to be taken seriously at all. If it was, the *angst* portion would be sufficiently higher. ;P I do hope chap. 2 will place it closer to par. :)