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Unfulfilled- Part Five

Author - Samantha Quinn
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Unfulfilled

By Samantha Quinn

Rating: PG, Angst, Drama
Disclaimer: Nothing’s changed. I still don’t own Star Trek or its characters and am still not making any money from this. Please don’t sue.

A/N: The whole nonsense about Vulcans/honor/lineage is NOT me confusing Vulcans with Klingons. :) The idea of honor being important to Vulcans was presented novels along the way (as well as Amok Time, really) and an internet discussion board recently wondered why the heck everyone in Spock’s family is a friggin’ Ambassador. The suggestion of filial piety was tossed about, and I grabbed it. Is it logical? Nope. Is killing for your mate? Nope. Should Vulcans mate with Klingons? Yep.

Part 5

Father’s Footsteps: Koval’s Point of View

A/N, II: Yes, perhaps I’m a bit harsh to Archer in this chappy. But I have used this chapter to explain why IMO, Archer could never be married to a Vulcan (or father half of one.) Which is why I’m not an A/T'P-er :) Archer has momentary insights of greatness, but when it comes to Vulcans, he remains a petulant child (see The Expanse.)

*****************^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^*****************

Three Years Later. . .

*****************^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^*****************

“So, whatcha gonna do, Koval?” Charlie Tucker inquires from over the view screen.

“I am uncertain, Charlie,” I admit.

“Well, ya gotta decide sometime,” Charlie points out unnecessarily. “And it better be soon. Neither Starfleet nor The Vulcan Science Academy are gonna wait forever. Ya snooze, ya loose.”

“Haste makes waste,” I answer effortlessly. Such human clichés come easily to me, given my own human father’s propensity for such terminology.

Charlie laughs. Given my current predicament, I am not pleased with his ability to find humor in the situation. I am not incapable of understanding humor, I simply do not see its application in the situation. I tell him as much. He feigns somberness. His true feelings are revealed, however, by the generous amount of humor to read within his brown eyes. Humans are very easy to read. I inform him of that as well. For reasons I am unable to discern, this only serves to make him again loose control of himself. I am in no mood to be mocked.

“Now, Koval, I’m just teasin’. There’s no need to scowl at me,” Charlie retorts. He leans back in his chair, balancing unwisely on two legs. I cannot help but be struck by the joy that would occur permeate my system if the chair were to lose balance. Although, joy is an emotion.

“I am not scowling, Charlie. Scowling is a human affliction,” I remind him.

Again, he finds humor in my statement. “Must be that bad blood of yours sneakin’ up on ya again,” he concedes, referring to my human heritage, of course.

“It is possible. It does seem to be the source of most of my problems of late,” I answer, thinking of course of my father.

Charlie understands and he nods. “What’s the Ambassador have to say about it?” he asks, in reference to my mother. It has become a tradition of sorts between us to refer to our parents by their proper titles-The Ambassador, The Admiral, The Commodore and The Civilian. No disrespect is meant towards them, although they sometimes do not always see our intentions as benign.

I allow my eyebrows to furrow together-no doubt an action deemed to be a “frown” by my friend. “I have, of course, sought my mother’s advice. She has been unusually reticent. Her answer has consistently been ‘You must chose your own path and be willing to accept the consequences of your actions.’ As I am already aware of this, it has not been even marginally helpful.”

“Well, she’s right, ya know,” My friend offers.

“As I have already stated, Charlie, I am aware of that fact. I am also aware of the potential ramifications of each action. If I elect to attend Starfleet Academy, I shall continue a heritage set in motion two generations before my birth and cause my father considerable pleasure.”

“And you’ll be miserable, right?” Charlie prods. My look is enough to make him reconsider his words. “Yeah, I know, that’s probably an emotion too. What I meant was. . . you will be considerably unpleased, right?”

I nod. “Unquestionably, if I were to choose based solely on my preferences, I would choose to attend the Vulcan Science Academy to study architecture.”

“So, there ya go. There’s your answer,” Charlie responds.

I shake my head. “But if that is my choice, I shall no doubt cause my father to be sufficiently . . . miserable.

Charlie runs his hands through his hair in a tell tale sign of frustration. True to the nature of his name, his hair closely resembles that of his father. I have often commented upon the irony of the fact that I do not resemble my father either physically or psychologically. Charlie, on the other hand, has his father’s hair and his mother’s eyes. I have my mother’s hair and eyes of my mother’s people as well. I remember a discussion with Charlie about such a thing.

*****************^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^*****************

Koval, this genetic stuff is beyond my understandin’. And I think it’s a bunch of nonsense.”

“Why?”

“Well, look at you. According to theory, you’d need two recessive traits to get together somehow to get blue eyes, right? But your dad’s got green eyes and your mom’s a Vulcan.”

“You are presuming Vulcans do not have the capability to produce blue eyed children?”

“Well, yeah.”

“You are incorrect. The great Surak himself had blue eyes.**”

“No shit?

“Yes. Blue eyes are an extremely rare occurrence on Vulcan. However, my grandmother does possess them. There are no green eyed Vulcans, however. It is likely that my father’s recessive trait combined with my mother’s recessive trait to produce my eyes.”

*****************^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^*****************

While I am pleased to share the same eye color as Surak, I would be more pleased to more closely resemble both my parents.

Currently, Charlie’s brown eyes are filled with quite human anger. “Koval, you gotta do what makes you happy. Quit worryin’ so much about that insufferable ass that is your father.”

“Charlie-"

“No, Koval, I mean it. I know he’s your Dad, but damnit, if he loved you nearly a shred of the way a parent is supposed to love a child, he wouldn’t want you to change who you are all the time.”

“My father maintains that I am not being true to who I am by choosing the Vulcan lifestyle over the human.”

“And who the hell is he to know your true self?”

“He is my father,” I offer simply. I should offer a defense for the man who helped give me life. Yet everything my friend says is true. “You cannot expect all relationships between children and their parents to be similar to that of your relationship with Trip.”

Sighing, Charlie asks, “Does your mother act the same way?”

“No.” That much is true. Mother has never tried to influence my struggle with my dual heritage. For that, I am truly grateful. It is only logical that I should be more . . . comfortable in her presence than with my father?

“Well, there you have it. It has nothin’ to do with Dad or me. It has everything to do with the Admiral. You’d think the man could get over his dislike of Vulcans long enough to – " Charlie stops, closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. I, of all people, can recognize when someone is trying to withhold their passions. “I’m sorry. We were just readin’ about him today, and well, it’s a miracle they still let him on the Starfleet lot, as far as I’m concerned.”

“He is an Admiral,” I point out. “It would be difficult for them to deny him access to the lot.”

“KOVAL!” My friend exclaims in mock anger. I arch an eyebrow in response and his pretense is lost as he begins to laugh. This time, I do not find agitation accompanying his laughter. “Listen, I’ve got a tactical engineering final to study for, Koval. Admiral Reed is teaching it, and you know what a hard ass he can be.”

“It has come to my attention during my courtship of Maggie,” I answer.

There is no hostility or regret in my friend’s voice as he replies and I find myself grateful that three years ago Charlie and I took my mother’s advice. “Yeah, you and Maggie should come visit me and Katie this weekend.”

“I shall propose it to Maggie. I greatly look forward to meeting Miss Pike.”

“She’ll love ya, Koval. See ya later, sa-kai,” he says, using the Vulcan term for brother.

“Good bye, t’hy’la,” I reply, using the Vulcan term for one who is like a brother. It can have other meanings as well, but those do not apply to Charlie.

It is, of course, illogical to call my friend by a familial term when we share no blood relationship. Regardless, we have had such a ritual since he was twelve and I was nine. He insisted we become “blood brothers.” The incident was startlingly reminiscent of a ritual Vulcan soldiers used to perform in the pre-Reform period. Upon hearing that, Charlie insisted we go by the term sa-kai, while I insisted upon t’hy’la.

Illogical. But it is not a ritual I am willing to give up.

Ironically, as I contemplate illogic, I hear my father’s voice. It is an indication he and mother have returned from assisting Dr. Phlox. I exit my room, prepared to tell them of my dual acceptance. Then, perhaps I shall tell only my mother. My father can be told once I reach my final decision.

I do try to keep his disappointment in me at a minimum.

As I start to descend down the stairs, my parent’s conversation becomes clearer. In an effort to allow them time to end it, I find myself eaves-dropping instead.

“That was some condition T’Zal had, T’Pol. Is it common?”

My mother pauses before answering. “Pon far normally occurs every seven years of an adult Vulcan’s life.”

“How come you’ve never experienced it?” my father asks. He is mistaken, of course. I wait for mother to correct him. To my shock, she does not.

“You and I are frequently sexually active. Vulcans are driven to pon far only because of their repressed sexual urges. As you and I engage in intercourse so frequently, it is only logical that I would not experience the condition.”

But she had to have at least once. Vulcan females must undergo pon far in order to conceive.

“Well, maybe we should have sex less frequently,” my father snaps. His outburst is unexpected and makes little sense. Why would he desire less sexual intimacy from my mother?

Nothing about this conversation is following logic.

“If you no longer desire me, Jonathan, then you are not obligated to share my bed,” my mother responds. My human half is refusing to be maintained as I battle the urge to run to my mother’s defense. They have been married for nineteen years. Can my father not tell by now when he is causing my mother discomfort?

“Damnit, T’Pol, of course I desire you! But just once, it would be nice to know you desire me too.”

“I do not understand what you believe to be lacking, Jonathan. I have been your companion sexually, legally, and publicly. What else can I give that you believe I have not given?”

Passion, T’Pol. I want to know you crave me the way I crave you. The way you used to before we got married. If I had known. . . " My father trails off, but the unspoken end of his sentence fills me with resentment. He shows great disrespect towards my mother by speaking towards her in that fashion. I have known that my mother and father do not have as an affectionate marriage as is the norm for either Vulcans nor humans. Yet, my father acts as though he is the only one unhappy.

Does he not realize my mother is also discontent with the marriage as well? That she has not been able to find the affection with my father that even Vulcans who are in arranged marriages typically share?

“If I give you that little pleasure, Jonathan, then you are free to pursue other females to satisfy your carnal urges,” Mother retorts. Her voice has elevated somewhat.

“God, T’Pol, do you think that little of me?” My father shouts.

If she does, it is only because you have given her reason to, I long to tell him.

“I’ve got to go. I’ll be back later – I’m going to Trip’s house. I don’t expect him to understand my problem, as his wife actually gives a damn about him, but I’m going anyway.”

“You will not speak of us to him!”

My mother has never shouted before this instance. Only my human father could anger my mother to the point where she loses control.

When my father speaks again, his voice is low and quiet. “What I speak with to Trip is none of your business, T’Pol.” I can see him turn to leave. He pauses on his way out, never turning to look at my mother as he tells her, “Just once I wish you’d experienced pon far, T’Pol. I would have liked to have felt you as passionate as T’Zal was tonight.”

Why does he keep insisting that he has never experienced pon far with my mother? He had to have. I exist.

“I regret not giving you that experience,” Mother says softly. Her emotional control has left her, as it is now threatening to do to me.

She regrets not giving him that experience?

Then what my father claims is true. Unwillingly, a memory from four years ago thrusts its way into my memory.

*****************^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^*****************

The . . . bonding. . . sounds very complicated, Mother.”

“It is a complex ritual, Koval.”

“How does it affect you? Does it cause pain? What is it like to constantly have access to someone else’s thoughts?”

“I do not know, my son.”

“Why not?”

“I am not bonded to your father. An event occurred before our ceremony which prevented our bonding.”

“Does father know?”

“No. If he knew, he would experience sufficient emotional pain.

****************^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^*****************

“Koval?” The voice of my mother brings me out of my reverie.

“Admiral Archer is not my biological father.” It is not a question. It does not need to be.

My mother closes her eyes, and I realize I have caused her pain. Emotional pain, even. I find I cannot express remorse for that action at the present. She has lied to me for eighteen years. For the first time in my life, I am angry at my mother.

“No, Koval, he is not.”

“Is my father human?”

“Yes.”

“Is he the reason you are not bonded to Admiral Archer?”

“Yes.”

Fighting for control, I grasp the hand rail beside me. Squeezing it for support, I force myself to ask, “Are you bonded to another?”

“No, I am not bonded to the man that fathered you,” Mother answers. “I am bonded to no one.”

Again I squeeze the railing in an effort to gain control. The weak – weak as the human that made it, weak as the diluted Vulcan blood in my veins - material cracks under my pressure and the ensuing snap gratifies me immensely. It does not pacify my anger nor does it contain my confusion.

Anger and confusion. Such human terms.

And now, I do not even know who to blame for them.

“If you are not bonded to the man who helped create me, then why do I exist? Why am I his son and not the Admiral’s?” There is no logic in the amount of difficulty I have in forming that question.

My mother again closes her eyes. They stay shut longer this time. When she opens them, she turns her back on me and walks to the window. Her gaze remains firmly locked on some unknown object in the horizon as she answers me. “You were the result of my first pon far. Jonathan and I were separated and we had not yet been bonded. Your biological father recognized the symptoms and would not permit me to die.”

“You said my father was human. How did he know about pon far if he was human?”

“He kept in contact with a Vulcan friend who did not have problems telling much about our people.”

My human side again takes precedence as a feeling of dread overwhelms my essence. Another memory, equally unwelcome as the first, makes its way into my consciousness.

*****************^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^*****************

“You and Maggie’ll be great together, Koval. You’re both smart and she’s one of the few human girls I know who would be tough enough to withstand that pon far thing.”

Pon far is a sacred secret amongst our people. How do you know about it?”

“Oh, my dad is real good friends with this rebel Vulcan named Kov. He doesn’t have a whole lot of respect for Vulcan culture. Anyway, his son’s more of a rebel than he is. Never thought I’d ever see a Vulcan on a motorcycle, but it’s funny as hell.”

“I assume then this son of Kov told you about our traditions?”

“Yep.

*****************^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^*****************

Kov. Koval.

Vulcans frequently name their children after important figures in their life. Would not the man that told my father about pon far count as an integral figure?

No! It cannot be.

Mother and Trip were held prisoner together by the Romulans. She was separated from father. Ten months before I was born.

No!

His eyes are blue. As are mine.

My inner self cannot argue with the logic. “Trip is my –" Illogically, I cannot finish the sentence. Oh, logic be damned! It has no welcome presence in the midst of these revelations. Finding my throat unable to form the words, I ask instead, “Trip saved your life?”

My mother remains fascinated with the object outside. When she answers me, finally, it is barely above a whisper. “Yes.”

The legs beneath me threaten to leave even as logic has. Today I have lost not only the man I have believed to have been my father, but the man I have loved as a second father as well. “The Admiral does not know of the truth. Does Commodore Tucker?”

Will I ever be able to call him Trip again? Will I ever be able to call him anything at all without feeling such an all consuming pain?

“I do not know. I have never asked him,” Mother replies.

“You never asked him? Did you not think it important?” For the first time, I have raised my voice. I have never done so with my mother and perhaps later I shall experience remorse.

But she has caused me far greater pain tonight with her revelations.

“By the time I knew of your conception, Jonathan and I were married. Revealing the truth would have had dire consequences for you. I knew you would already face considerable hardship, as your father was human. I did not wish to make the situation more difficult for you.”

There is little else to be said to my mother at this point. My emotions are threatening to overwhelm me, and mother is struggling as well. We both require meditation. I retreat to my room to do so.

*****************^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^*****************

I cannot meditate.

The emotions that I have struggled to control for eighteen years threaten to overwhelm me. The irony ceases to end tonight. The only part of my true father that I have in my possession is the one part of him that I do not want – his emotions.

In my lap sits an old copy of Warp Five and Beyond, Trip’s autobiography. It is a paper copy. I found considerable illogic in the giving of such a gift. Trip had commented at the time that his first copy of Cochrane’s autobiography that his parents gave him had been in paperback and that he still had it.

Was such a revelation a hint?

Were all the times that he insisted I go fishing with him and Charlie an indication he knew of my parentage?

Opening the worn cover, I examine the dedication I have memorized. To Charlie and Koval, who seek to seek out and explore together on a daily basis. You keep me young.

The evidence again is overwhelming.

He knows.

Yet he remains silent.

In frustration, I hurl the book across the room. Undoubtedly emotional. Other than his eye color, it is my father’s only parental bequest to me. Momentarily, I allow myself to reveal in them.

I have been betrayed by those I hold dearest. Do I not have the right to feel angry? Admiral Archer has always pressured me when he has no right to do so. Mother has known, all this time, but refused to tell me until now. And Trip has known as well, yet is content to allow another man to father his child.

My mother’s understanding was logical. She knows Vulcan society. She thought of me and my well-being. What excuse did my father have? Why did he not go to her and demand to be part of my life? I know from reading Warp Five and Beyond that the crew of the Enterprise knew about my potential existence three months before we arrived back to Earth. Three months before Trip knew about Charlie. It is therefore not Charlie’s existence that kept Trip from demanding his right.

One of the chapters in his book is titled “Some Things Are Worth Fighting For.” It details the Romulan War.

Why was I not worth fighting for?

My father is a very intelligent man. I cannot believe it took him a prolonged period of time to know I was his son. If Kov told him about pon far, would he not have told him its purpose?

Was my father’s friendship with Admiral Archer so much more important than being my father?

****************^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^*****************

An hour has passed. Meditation still has not arrived when I hear my mother’s knock.

“Enter.”

My mother has clearly meditated and I find myself envying her ability to do so. Perhaps I shall be as proficient due to the thinness of my Vulcan blood.

She sits on chair beside my bed, as she did many nights when I was a child. “Koval,” she greets. Her gaze falls upon the book lying haphazardly at her feet. Mother arches an eyebrow, but does not question how it arrived there.

“He knows,” I said simply. Glancing up, I see a sympathetic look cross my mother’s face. She does not question the truth of my statement. Her silence compels me to ask another question. “Why did you not tell the Admiral of the pon far before you married him?”

“Commander Tucker asked me not to,” she answers. I note that she refers to Trip by his past rank, as though I have triggered a time portal to a time long ago. “He believed it would cause the Captain undue emotional stress.”

“You agreed with him?”

“Koval, I am a Vulcan. Although I have lived amongst humans for such a long time, I do not fully grasp the extent of all of their emotions. Commander Tucker is a human. He knows his own kind’s emotional variances better than I do. I did not wish to cause either Jonathan or him pain.”

“I understand that, Mother. I would not wish to harm Maggie’s emotional state purposely, either.” Suddenly the memory of my mother’s advice makes itself present. “You had great affection for Trip, Mother?”

My mother clasps her hands in front of her before responding. I have caused her a great deal of distress tonight. Guilt begins to make itself known. If I am correct in my theory, my mother has known nearly two decades of distress. I do not seek to cause her more. “Yes, Koval.”

When she says it, I am reminded of what she said an hour earlier. “I am bonded to no one.” Sympathy for her and anger towards Trip permeates my being. My mother, by being without a bondmate, is as alone as any Vulcan can be. As long as she is married to the Admiral, Trip’s dear friend, she is destined to be alone.

“I apologize for my lack of control earlier, Mother,” I offer, by way of showing my remorse.

She shakes her head. “An apology is not necessary, Koval. You responded as anyone in your position has a right to. I believe even Surak would say that your cause for anger was sufficient.”

“Surak would also understand your reasoning. I do as well, Mother. I do not find fault with your reasoning.”

Mother takes a deep breath and again squeezes her fingers together. “Before you absolve me of any wrong doing, you deserve to know one other crucial fact.”

Another revelation? When will they cease? Is no part of my life not a lie?

“When I discovered you had been conceived, I was exceedingly pleased,” Mother tells me. Irrationally, this fills me with joy. Yes, human, emotional joy. Tomorrow I must gain better control of myself. When there are no more revelations to be had.

“I am equally pleased that I was born to you,” I respond.

But she is shaking her head. “I was not pleased merely because I desired a child. I was pleased because of your parentage. Had circumstances been different, I would have been . . . elated.”

Neither of us mention that elated is a human term. Tonight is a night of many firsts for my mother. She has shouted and used a blatantly human emotional term. Her Vulcan blood is not as thin as mine. I do not feel as bad for my lack of control. Which is fortunate because I feel great pain for my mother.

“My position has not changed with that information, Mother. In fact, I am pleased you shared passion for my father and that I was not simply the unfortunate result of Vulcan evolution,” I respond.

“I am relieved,” she replies, rising. “I must fix dinner. Is there anything you desire?”

“On this night, I would find great comfort in Plomeek soup. Although, perhaps for dessert, we can have Terrean peaches?”

But never pecan pie.

Never again.

Strangely, my mother blinks in a manner that lets me know I have disturbed her by my request for peaches. But she says nothing and merely nods. “Dinner shall be ready in thirty five minutes.”

She exits and I am left alone.

The anger I had towards my mother has left. She behaved only as any Vulcan would – logically. Unselfishly logical. Admiral Archer may have been wronged, but my mother has sacrificed her own contentment for my well being and Trip’s . . . happiness. She paid the ultimate price for us and has not complained once.

Admiral Archer does little but complain. He has grown increasingly bitter in his advanced age.

I am uncertain how to feel about the Admiral. He has been the man I have called father for eighteen years. Much of our time together has been turbulent and from my view, contradictory. He claims to love me “unconditionally,” yet wants to coerce me into accepting ideologies and viewpoints I cannot appreciate.

I appreciate human culture. I simply desire to live as a Vulcan.

Why does the Admiral seek to steal that right from me as my father?

And yet, although he has caused me sufficient distress over the years by refusing to accept my path, I have considered him my father and cared for him in the same fashion that I have cared for my mother.

As I have given in to human emotion tonight, I will allow myself to be honest.

I love Admiral Archer.

I love Mother.

Worst of all, I love Trip.

The Admiral took me to water polo matches, bandaged wounded limbs, took care of me while I was sick, and told me stories while tucking me in at night.

Trip took me fishing and baseball games, helped me construct my first model starship engine, and listened faithfully to my concerns without casting judgment.

Can I love both the Admiral and Trip?

It is useless to ask myself such a question. The turbulent relationship between myself and the Admiral has not changed the strength of my love for him. Neither shall the fact that Trip willingly chose not to claim me as his son change the intensity of my love for him.

I wish what they said about Vulcans was true – that we were not capable of feeling emotions. I could do without love.

I attempt to ascertain which love is stronger, and I cannot. The love I have for the Admiral is entirely different from that which I hold for Trip. My affection for the Admiral is one for someone who loves me despite continual disappointment. My affection for Trip is the love of someone who knows me well and has no desire to change me.

But then, why should he concern himself with my personality when he did not find me worth fighting for?

The incessant beeping of the vid phone interrupts my musing. Rising to answer it, I am astonished to discover the face of Trip on the other line. He wears the very human expression of concern. I wonder if he wore the same one when he discovered my conception had taken place.

“Koval, thank God!” he exclaims when I answer. “What’s goin’ on? Is everything okay over there?”

“My mother and I are fine, Commodore.”

His face changes to a confused expression. “Ya sure? I just got home and Nat says the Admiral was over here about twenty minutes ago and that he looked awful upset.”

“He and mother had a disagreement.”

Yet again his expression changes. It is one that expresses anxiousness. “Is your momma okay?” he asks softly.

How intriguing. His first thought is not of his friend, but of my mother.

Is it possible that my mother’s affection was not . . . unreciprocated? Or perhaps it is guilt for what he has done in the past? I decide to prod the Commodore to discover if my mother is as alone as she believes. “He hurt her,” I tell him.

Again the face changes. This time it is one of rage. “WHAT? Is she all right?” His anger is nearly tangible. I believe, for the first time, that if the Admiral were within distance, Trip would strike him.

Has he always felt this way? Why have neither I nor the Admiral caught on? “She is physically unharmed. He simply caused her great . . . distress.”

How is it possible that one man can have so many facial expressions? For the first time, I take careful notice of the amount of wrinkles on his skin. “But she’s okay?”

My mother’s affection was not unreturned. For some reason, that does not bring me pleasure. If they both desired one another, why did my mother spend her life with someone she does not have affection for, and who does not respect her?

“She is preparing dinner. She shall recover.”

He shakes his head. “I always thought he loved her so much. . . If I had known . . . "

The propensity to not finish his sentences is typically annoying, and tonight even more so. Did he not finish those sentences nineteen years ago? Is that why my mother is forced to live without a bondmate?

And I am forced to live with a father that is not truly my father? Who I disappoint further with each passing day?

“Koval?” the man on screen questions. “Are you okay? You look kinda green.”

“I am fine,” I tell him.

“Ya sure?”

“Yes.”

“I saw Charlie at the Academy today and he tells me you’ve been accepted to both the Academy and the VSA.”

“That is correct.”

“Have ya made any decisions yet?”

Even if I had, my decisions have been irrevocably complicated by the amount of revelations tonight. “No. My reasons are complicated.”

“I’m sure they are, Koval. Look, kiddo, way back when your momma was still carryin’ you, a good Vulcan friend of mine told me how important lineage is to Vulcans.”

“Indeed?” If he stressed the importance of lineage, why did you not want me?

“Yep. He said that the relationship between the father and the son are very important in Vulcan society and that . . . under no circumstances would any self respectin’ Vulcan father do anything to embarrass a Vulcan son.”

Is that why you did not fight for me? You did not seek to embarrass me? Reasons startlingly close to what my mother conveyed only moments before?

“That is true,” I admit.

“I’m sure you’re probably tryin’ to figure out how the lineage thing will work with what you want to do, and I wish I could help ya out, Koval, but the only advice I can give ya is that ya have to do what ya can live with at the end of the day.”

“May I ask another question of you, Trip?”

“Sure, Koval, ya can ask me anything ya want, as long as you promise not to call me ‘Commodore.’”

“Is there any circumstance for which a human would willingly give away someone very precious to them? Someone they love?”

Trip – my father – looks startled for a moment. Then he frowns and stares down at his hands on his desk. “Yeah, Koval, there are two reasons I can think of. They might do it if they think holdin’ on to ‘em might hurt them or someone else they love. They might do that if they think they’re doin’ the right thing – if they think the other person might be better off without ‘em.” My father’s accent has grown thicker. Having known him for my entire life, I recognize that as a sign that he is becoming more emotional.

I am in danger of doing so as well. My father sacrificed a relationship with my mother to prevent causing Admiral Archer distress. He sacrificed a paternal relationship with me to prevent causing me pain. “Well, Trip, I must go. I am certain the Admiral will be there again soon and I must accompany my mother for dinner. I am the only companion she has.”

My father glances up at that, and I notice that his eyes are dangerously damp. “Take care of her, Koval. And Koval – the Admiral may not always show it, but he does love you. I know it’s not worth as much, but I love ya too. As much as I love Charlie.”

Conflicting emotions of pain and happiness battle for supremacy. “I am aware of that fact, Trip. I have great affection for you as well.” . . as much as I have for the Admiral.

I expect him to smile, but instead his eyes only look wetter. Sniffling, he bids me goodbye and quickly disconnects.

I long to reconnect and tell him what I know.

But I cannot. My father and my mother both sacrificed their own happiness in order to permit me to fulfill my Vulcan obligations to my lineage.

Even before my birth, my father was more respectful of my Vulcan heritage than the Admiral would later prove to be. He showed the true affection that a parent would have for a child. But oh, he proved he was a foolish human if he believed I would be better off without him. As for his relationship with mother, I am relieved to know that her affection was reciprocated. She is not as alone as I believed previously, as her pain is shared by another. In many respects, the pains, concerns and actions of my parents have been so similar that they might as well be bonded.

But they are not. For their happiness was sacrificed twice. Once for Admiral Archer, and once for me.

To tell them that their sacrifices had been in vain would be inordinately cruel. I would not do that to either of them. I will not permit the suffering they have undergone to be without result.

I will honor their sacrifices with my silence.

I will do honor to the lineage in true Vulcan style by following in my father’s footsteps.

That requires me to join Starfleet, and disregard my own desire to attend the Vulcan Science Academy. Given the enormity of my parent’s pain, I cannot complain.

But I shall enter as an engineer, not a pilot.

*****************^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^*****************

A/N: There is one more chapter. It’s from Charlie’s POV, so it will be more Gary Stu-ness.

** For blue-eyed Surak, see TOS episode, “The Savage Curtain.”

********


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A whole mess of folks have made comments

No, no, no, my dear. There will be more than one more chapter. Koval (Kov! I can't believe I missed that!) needs to tell us more. Actually, T'Pol needs to tell us more as well. Trip needs to tell us more This story is more than one chapter from being finished, I hope!

So good - thanks.

Wow. That was great. Can't wait until the next chapter.

Damn. I love this story and hate it all at once. I love the angst and the writing and the characters. I hate the way that it makes the little soldier deep in my soul want to grab his rifle and shoot Archer dead to make room for what should have happened. That's not a good thing to wish for.

Maybe he can just fall off a cliff or something.

Anxiously awaiting the next chapter!

This is really good. I have to admit I'm not Archers biggest supporter, and I could see him going down this road. The little shipper in me hopes that Archer does something that forces T'Pol to divorce him and then Natalie does the decent thing and lets Trip go.

I like this story alot - except I can't believe Trip & T'Pol would lie just to save Archers feelings. He's a grown man for pete's sake & a starship captain to boot. If anything I thought Koval would, on seeing how his whole life has been a lie, "do a Spock" & reject his human heritage & go to Vulcan to get away from the deceit.

Don't get me wrong I am enjoying this !!! Keep it coming as a "agnst" fic this one is so "chunky you can carve it".

Oh this has taken a really interesting turn. You had me near tears when Koval realized how much Trip must have cared about his future and his friendship for Archer to have put them both before his personal happiness.

I'm so looking forward to the time when Koval addresses Charlie as "sa-kai". =)

Lovely work. Thank you.

I agree. More chapters. I love their kids! Oh, can we have some Maggie as well? Please!

Mmm. Maybe Archer can get runover by a motorcycle. Actually, sweetie, they're right. The plot bunnies have escaped. One chapter won't cut it now. You've got a whole followup story nesting here.

Mmm. Maybe Archer can get runover by a motorcycle. Actually, sweetie, they're right. The plot bunnies have escaped. One chapter won't cut it now. You've got a whole followup story nesting here.

Amazing job! I love how you had Kov slowly realize that Trip was his father. I especially loved the relationship (or lack thereof) between Archer and Kov, and the responsibilities Kov felt to his heritage. I'm going through something similar myself and I think you totally epitomized it. Thank you!

I LOVED this chapter! I'm so glad you're continuing with this story! I really like how you've written Koval and I'd dearly love more about him. And what about the possibility of a Maggie chapter? And of course the shipper in me is hoping Archer throws a petulant tantrum and stalks out of the picture REAL soon...

This is truly a wonderful, but oh so bittersweet, story Samantha! I wouldn't even want to see it tied up neatly I don't think, with Archer and Natalie being removed and the way cleared. I love the idea of Koval choosing to do Vulcan honour his 'father' (Trip) by setting aside his first choice, and following in his footsteps, honoring sacrifice with sacrifice. It's very profound.