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Fulfilled - Pt 2

Author - Samantha Quinn
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Fulfilled

By Samantha Quinn

~~

Part II

Lineages Revisited: Trip’s POV

~~~

It’s hard to believe I’ve spent five years on the Kowl colony. Five years away from Earth and everyone I love.

True, I haven’t been completely out of touch. I still regularly hear from Charlie and Koval – thank God. When I first made the decision to come out here, my chief concern was that I would lose the precious relationships I had with the boys. ‘Course, it’s a double-edged sword. Every time I hear from Charlie or Koval, I think of their mommas. And when I think of their mommas, I think of all the hurt I caused to both Natalie and T’Pol. Not on purpose. But I’ve thought about it a lot over the past five years that I’ve spent nearly alone, and I’ve come to the realization that whether or not I meant to hurt them is pretty irrelevant. After all, I did hurt them, regardless of my intentions.

And we all know what they say about the road to hell? If you ask me, it’s pretty damn accurate.

Oh, maybe that’s being a bit too pessimistic. My whole life isn’t hell. Most days I live a perfectly normal life – and I don’t even start to notice how alone I am until I walk through the front door of my increasingly lonely apartment. Daytime’s simply too busy, after all. Being a Commissioner of a newly formed Federation Colony is pretty tough work. I have to jump back and forth between being an administrator and diplomat, and neither one’s exactly my strong point. It really requires someone with a bit more . . .

~~**~~

Patience?”

“Are you inferrin’ that I am impatient, Malcolm?”

“Not at all, Trip. I’m stating that you are impatient.

~~**~~

Good old Malcolm. We keep in touch, too, but not nearly often enough. I really miss him sometimes. Just last week, I had a nasty leak on the roof – these damn colonies aren’t quite as technologically sufficient as the ones closer to Earth – and it was really more than I could take on by my own. My neighbor, Billy Daystrom, ended up helping me. Nice guy, that Billy. Reminds me a little of Malcolm too. Maybe that’s why I asked him. It certainly wasn’t due to his construction expertise.

It’s funny, how I can be so far away from Earth, and so close to the neutral zone, yet have so many reminders of what I’d left behind. I suppose that’s not a coincidence.

But regardless of the occasional reminders of home, I live a relatively content life. Not quite the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow that I had imagined when I used to dream about how my life would end up, but I can keep busy. And busy is good enough of a distracter that sometimes I’m able to forget, if not completely forgive myself for, what might have been.

Naturally, of course, something had to happen to change that. Does anyone really think we’re going to amend the Federation charter just to appease one planet? If we were, then what the hell would be the point of the damn thing? I don’t really know why they need me anyway. They already have one of the most well known Ambassadors and an equally famous Admiral at their disposal. Maybe someone at Starfleet hates me. Or maybe it goes higher up than Starfleet. Maybe somebody upstairs decided I haven’t done enough penance for all the people I’ve hurt in the past twenty-four years.

Regardless of the culprit, here I am. Stuck at this damn table, eating food that might as well be ground Rigerian slugs, with company that can only serve as a reminder of all the mistakes I’ve made. And our location, especially this table, has no other purpose than to prompt memories of another Captain’s Table. And that thought is certainly not one I need to dwell upon – after all, it was after the Captain’s table became an unwelcome spot for me, and a courting ground for the Captain and T’Pol, that my life truly started its downward spiral.

Now’s really not the time to think about that. I can’t help but be relieved when Captain Sheldon decides to end my dismal musings with his characteristic chipperness.

“Ah, what a lovely sight. Two memorable family reunions” he states, gesturing widely with his hands. I can’t help but wonder if the aliens he comes in first contact with have as much difficulty resisting the urge to roll their eyes as I do.

Then again, he probably doesn’t say anything to them that cuts as close to the core as what he just said to us. I shouldn’t fault him for his words, anyway. It’s not his fault he doesn’t know how much they hurt. It’s not his fault he doesn’t know it should be one memorable family reunion, instead of two. Nope, it’s not his fault at all. It’s all mine.

“There are those who would contend that such closeness strains the productivity of a starship,” T’Pol remarks.

Productivity, T’Pol? Nah. Happiness? Quite possibly. God, she’s still so beautiful. She literally hasn’t appeared to age a day. Whatever happened to time heals all wounds? What foolish bastard ever came up with that saying? Probably the same one that came up with “it’s better to have loved and to have lost. . . “

Momentarily, my mind wanders to Ishta, one of my neighbors on Kowl. She’s a perfectly nice woman, really, and she’s asked me out once or twice. I haven’t said yes, but I’ve been thinking I might. Not because I’m in any way ready to forget T’Pol – that will never happen, I’m certain – but because, as the saying goes, I’m not getting any younger. Is it really wrong to want someone sweet to spend my final days with?

But looking at T’Pol, I wonder just what the hell I was thinking. Such a proposition would be unfair to Ishta, whom I’m certain doesn’t want to play second fiddle. Then I guess I’m resigned to die alone. A morbid thought, but who’s to say I don’t deserve it? Certainly not me.

“I don’t know, T’Pol, between you and me and Maggie’s parents, I’d say Enterprise got along just fine,” Admiral Archer comments.

If you only knew. But, of course, he doesn’t. Isn’t that what I spent so much effort trying to prevent? I know that it was. Yet sitting here this morning, I can’t help but wonder why. It should be blatantly obvious to anyone how unhappy T’Pol and Archer are, just from the tension in that last little exchange. Glancing from the Captain and the kids, I can tell that I’m right.

But the Captain’s a smooth one. Sensing the tension in the air, he completely ignores both a high ranking Admiral and a well-respected Ambassador. Good thing for him that Starfleet never was much of a military organization, though there are those that are pushing for it. Given the Xindi Conflict and the Romulan War, that’s probably no surprise.

“But there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for our Enterprise babies, here,” the Captain says, gesturing towards Koval, Maggie, and Charlie. I don’t bother to suppress the grin that comes across my face, in spite of my somber mood. “Why you should have seen the faces of Koval, Maggie, and Chuckie when I told them the three of you were coming aboard. They were positively thrilled. Especially Chuckie, as I recall.”

Chuckie? I spare a glance over at my oldest son, who grimaces in return. Starfleet is enough of a military organization for him not to express how he feels about that particular nickname. He doesn’t have to, of course. Everyone here – outside of the Captain – already saw a similar reaction, fifteen years ago involving one Uncle Pete. It was nasty, and invoked the wrath of Natalie. Happily for Charlie, both Koval and I were on his side, which meant his grounding meant very little.

Moving from Chuckie’s scowl, I steal a glance at my youngest son. He looks a little more like his momma every day. That’s a good thing, I suppose, as the Admiral would wonder if he came out with blonde hair. Still, though, I can’t help but ponder the possibility that it’s more divine punishment. I wonder if Vulcans believe in any type of god or gods. They probably don’t think it’s logical, so He – or they – can’t be the ones punishing me. Maybe it’s the Vissian ones.

At least Archer gets to suffer a little too. He may get the family I want – the one that should be mine – but they’ll never look like him. Ever. Those are my blue eyes.

Getting petty in my old age, aren’t I? Well, if you’re approaching your sixties and aren’t allowed a few liberties, I don’t know when you can have them.

Regardless of whom he looks like, my second son is happy. No, make that ecstatic. I’m glad he’s found with Maggie the type of happiness neither his momma nor I were ever allowed to have. I’m glad they’re happy. I really, really am. So glad, in fact, that I won’t think about the tiny baby that’s going to be here in about six months that I won’t be able to hold as much as I should. Why think about it? Haven’t I already lived that life?

Somewhat belatedly, I realize the Admiral is talking. Whoops.

“ . . . to hear another Starfleet Captain have such an informal relationship with his senior crew,” the Admiral says. “Starfleet is becoming more and more military with each passing day.”

“That it is,” Captain Sheldon admits noncommittally.

“Starfleet is a vastly different organization than it was during our years of exploration,” T’Pol points out, proving she can disagree as easily as her husband. I’m glad to hear it. I always liked feisty T’Pol the best.

“Yes, T’Pol, I know. Back then, we actually did exploring,” Archer retorts bitterly, and I find myself biting my tongue. Hard. “In a lot of ways, I’m glad Dad isn’t around to see what Starfleet has become. It’s a complete mockery of every dream he ever had.”

“Your Dad didn’t know about the Xindi, Romulans, or Klingons,” I rejoin, surprised to hear the words leave my own mouth. Guess I wasn’t biting hard enough. I make a mental note to double my efforts.

The Admiral clearly wasn’t expecting to hear that come from me. He shoots me a curious glance, as though he is remembering that I’m there for the first time. Well, it’s probable. “You are in favor of the new Starfleet, then?” he asks. There’s a challenge in that voice, probably a sign that I should shut up. I ignore it.

“I’m in favor of the Federation – including Earth – being amply protected,” I respond. “If that means increased militarization, then I’m all for it.”

“Really? Given your experiences, I would have thought you’d be the last one in favor of an increased military presence,” Archer remarks, oh so snidely, as he takes a casual drink of his orange juice.

Biting my tongue even harder, I respond, “You were wrong.”

“Gentlemen,” T’Pol interrupts our conversation, ever the diplomat, “Perhaps a more prudent conversation would be a discussion of the impending liaison with the Corridians.”

Shrugging, I offer the same opinion I’ve held since Starfleet first asked me to join the diplomatic team. “I think the whole trip there is pretty pointless. We can’t very well go around changin’ the Federation law every time a planet disapproves.”

“I’ve never known you to be so unbending when it comes to rules. It’s pretty fortunate for you that Starfleet hasn’t always held that policy.” We may not have the same solid friendship that we used to, but I like to think there’s still something there. Apparently, not. I guess I was wrong. It hits me that the friendship I had sacrificed everything for is dead.

I didn’t think it was possible to feel so alone. And I’ve had plenty of experience being alone, on Kowl.

No one’s talking now. I suppose after that little spat, no one really wants to. My son, my wonderful first born, with the social graces of his momma, decides to break the silence. “Well, Koval, have you and Maggie decided on any names yet?”

My second born cocks his head as he looks at his wife – his dear, beloved wife – and appears to muse the question over. “No, we have not.”

Maggie takes over. “It has to be special. Vulcan children are frequently named after someone special in their parents’ lives.”

“Well, not always. We didn’t know anyone named Koval,” the Admiral remarks. Alternately degrees of pity, guilt, and irritation wash over me, and I can’t help but wince. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Charlie give me a funny look, but I ignore it.

“It’s a Vulcan tradition that Koval – and I – wish to observe,” Maggie informs the Admiral. As feisty as her dad, that one. Koval chose a damn good woman.

“Charles is a good name,” Charlie suggests.

“It would be an illogical choice for our child,” Koval argues.

My first born manages a heartbroken expression. “Why’s that? Not Vulcan enough?”

“It is undoubtedly a human name,” Koval agrees, “However, that is not the name’s flaw.”

“Flaw? What flaw does my name have?” Charlie demands. I suppose he inherited that trait from me. I’ll certainly admit to more than my fair share of . . .zeal during my youth.

“You,” Koval deadpans, which garners a shocked look from Charlie.

Again in spite of my self, I can’t help but chuckle. I venture a look at T’Pol, who, to my delight, is also doing her patented non-smile. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen it, and that’s not the only reason I’m glad to see it. She’s just confirmed my long held suspicion that she used to get pleasure from the confusion she used to cause us on Enterprise.

“Don’t you think that naming out son ‘Charlie,’ would be just one Charlie too many?” Maggie demands.

“Well, there’d only be two of us,” Charlie argues. “After all, no one calls Dad ‘Charlie,’ or Charles, or anything close.”

“Yes, Chuckie,” Koval answers, with the same Vulcan non-smile tugging on his lips as his mother has. “But what exactly do you plan on calling Charles Tucker V?”

The look that comes across Charlie’s face is priceless. Apparently, his first born is not something he’s ever contemplated. The question has the surprising – and rare – ability to render Charlie speechless for a moment. Then he shrugs, and offers, “We can call him Number Five for short, your son can be Charles, and I can be Charlie.

“Number Five?” Koval asks, eyebrows to his hairline. “Somehow I do not believe your future son would appreciate being given the nickname of a numerical unit.”

“Speaking of the number five,” Captain Sheldon’s chipper voice interrupts the discussion, “I believe that’s approximately how many minutes we have to get to our posts before our shift starts.” He seems only amused at my sons’ conversation, not in the least disturbed at the squabblings of his tactical officer, engineer, and pilot.

“Four point five,” Koval corrects as we stand, ignoring the Captain’s laugh in response, as he turns to me and asks, “Trip, I believe both of my parents have already seen the ship, but you have not. Perhaps this evening after dinner you would appreciate a tour, from the engineer’s perspective?”

And from son to father. “Engineer to engineer? I couldn’t imagine a better way, Koval.” He nods his assent, and I watch him leave with Maggie and Charlie, who attempts to engage once again in the ‘logic’ of naming their child after him. Archer follows the Captain, no doubt with the intention of bugging him all day on the bridge. Somewhat belatedly, I realize that I am alone with T’Pol.

I’m sure there’s something appropriate to say in these circumstances, but I’ll be damned if I know what it is. After what seems like years of an uncomfortable silence, but in reality can only be a couple minutes, T’Pol speaks.

“I apologize for the Admiral’s comments.”

“There’s no need, T’Pol.”

“He hurt you.”

“I’ve lived with a lot worse pain. I take it things between you haven’t improved?”

“No, they have not. In fact. . .”

“In fact what?”

“I believe he has developed affection for another.”

Bastard. How he can have what I want so bad, and just toss it away. . . yet, I can’t exactly point fingers. After all, I did the same thing twenty-five years ago. But it damn well wasn’t because I had “affection for another.”

“I’m sorry, T’Pol.”

“There is no need, Charles.”

I offer her a grin, and we walk in companionable silence to the turbolift. I can’t help but think how nice it feels just to be able to walk by her side. It’s funny how such a little thing like that make me so happy. At least, until I remember why it’s so rare.

It’s while we’re in the turbolift that I realize just how much I don’t want to go back to my lonely quarters – alone. I’ve spent five years virtually alone, after all. I’m not sure how I come up with the courage to do so, but I tell T’Pol there are some diplomatic concerns on Kowl that I’d like her advice on. She agrees to offer whatever help she can, and I follow her to her quarters.

We spend the day together, under the guise of philosophical musings about diplomacy. Bah. The farmers are going to get their water, whether the cattle ranchers like it or not. I wonder briefly if T’Pol realizes just how much bullshit I’m feeding her. Maybe she does, maybe she doesn’t. Regardless, I am rewarded every now and then with her non-smile, and that heavenly eyebrow raise. The moments of utter joy and contentment are juxtaposed next to intense feelings of guilt and longing. The hours fly by, and soon T’Pol rises, and makes plans to leave.

“Koval will be here soon for your tour of the ship.”

“He and Maggie look so happy, T’Pol.”

“Most recently wed couples are prone to display affection for one another.”

“Yeah, I guess so. But they look even more happy than I would expect, if that makes sense. Kind of . . . happy and content.”

The pause seems to last a lifetime, and when T’Pol speaks again, I understand instantly why she took so long in responding. “Koval and Maggie have bonded. They are joined in every conceivable manner and are mates in the truest sense. Their harmonious existence shall know no deceit, no secrets, no pretense. They are now, and shall always be, bondmates.”

“Until death they do part.”

“Perhaps longer.”

Somehow that’s entirely too easy to believe.

“I really enjoyed seeing you again, T’Pol. It will take us another week to get to our destination. Maybe tomorrow. . . ?” I trail off, not entirely certain how to finish my thought. I’m entirely too old to be feeling like I’m a teenage boy all over again, trying to find the nerve to ask Melissa to dance.

“Charles,” T’Pol says softly, and I know instinctually that she’s going to tell me no, “Circumstances have not changed between us. I am still bound to Jonathan.”

It hurts even worse to hear her say it out loud. “I understand, T’Pol.”

“No, I do not believe you do.”

“It’s not that hard to understand, T’Pol.” Nope, sure isn’t. I fell in love with you, screwed up, and lost you to my best friend. What’s there to understand?

“Charles, I do not abstain from your presence because I do not appreciate your company,” T’Pol protests. “Your presence is comforting, more so than it should be.”

“I understand, T’Pol. I’m sorry for bringing it up.”

“However,” she continues, ignoring me completely, “your presence is also considerably . . . disconcerting. I find myself struggling to remain in control.”

“And I understand how important it is for a Vulcan to remain in control,” I interrupt her. “So, I do understand.”

I turn and walk away from her, to take advantage of the view of the stars outside my quarters. The sight of them rushing by would normally make me feel more than nostalgic. Somehow tonight, they have very little meaning.

I expect T’Pol to leave. Instead, I feel her hand touch my shoulder. And she thinks she has difficulty controlling herself?

She waits until I turn to look at her to speak. “It has been some time since Jonathan and I were . . . intimate. That too threatens my capacity for control, and I do not speak of daily emotions.”

It takes me a minute to understand just what she is speaking of. “Oh. . . pon far?”

She nods. “I have never experienced the cycle in my time with Jonathan. Such a phenomenon is not unknown. Among my people, those that engage in frequent . . . activity, along with severe amounts of meditation are sometimes able to obtain freedom from the cycle. I have known both during my time with Jonathan.”

“Are ya experiencin’ any . . . symptoms?” It’s funny that we should both treat it as a disease, when it’s responsible for the only time we ever really shared together.

“No, not yet. However, given my current celibacy, it is inevitable that it will return. Meditation will help to keep it at bay; giving into emotional wants will hasten its arrival.”

That makes sense, I guess. As much sense as any “mate or die” disease could. “What do ya plan to do when . . . when meditation can’t keep it at bay any longer?”

She glances down at the question, and withdraws her hand from where it has rested on my shoulder. “ I have contemplated that question for four years, Charles. I still do not have an appropriate answer.”

“One that won’t cause considerable havoc to everyone we both know?”

She graces me with a non-smile and nods. “Perhaps now you do understand.”

I nod. Unfortunately, yes I do. “You’d better go, then. I am sorry, T’Pol – if I had known, I wouldn’t have wasted your time with Kowl’s diplomatic squabbles.”

“I do not consider time spent with you ‘wasted,’ Charles. I must meditate, however, immediately.”

T’Pol is not gone for five minutes when I hear the door chime. Expecting my son to be there when I open the door, I am surprised to see the one person I have no desire to see following T’Pol’s visit.

“Hello, Trip. Do you have a minute?”

Well, what am I supposed to say? “Sure, Admiral, come on in.”

~~~



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Eight hardy souls have made comments

Can't wait to read the next one.

This is one of my favorite series. I can't wait to see what's next.

Yes a good series - although soon you will be put up for trial in the Hague for Crimes against Humanity for all the pain & torture you are putting Trip, T'Pol & the rest of us through. Keep it up.

I really feel like hitting Archer upside of the head though it isn't his fault per se the man has a glorious knack for insensitivity on the grand scale. And Trip and T'Pol. Sigh. My little heart breaks for them. I love it that Koval and Maggie have bonded and really love the teasing relationship that endures between him and Charlie. I just adore this whole story of yours and was dancing about when I saw you had another part posted. Keep up the good work, I am investing in another box of kleenex - convinced I will need a whole pile of hankies before this fic has run its' course. Much kudos and thanks, Ali D :~)

I love your story. It's... it's just awesome. But I hate to see my two favorite Enterprise crewmembers like this. And Archer...I actually want to blast him with a phaser pistol, or one of the rifles... Well, anyhow, great story.

I was going to wait until all the chapters were posted but it was too much temptation!! I love it just as much as the first story. Next chapter please!!!

What? What? *graps monitor and shakes it* Chapter 2 is already over?

I will wait, but I will not like it. (Not as much as I liked the fic, anyway. I'm enjoying every last minute of reading.)

What? What? *grabs monitor and shakes it* Chapter 2 is already over?

I will wait, but I will not like it. (Not as much as I liked the fic, anyway. I'm enjoying every last minute of reading.)