The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea- Chapter 15

The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

by Sita Z

Disclaimers in Chapter 1

****

Chapter 15

Trip walked down the corridor, his face burning. His hands were still shaking, and he fought the urge to bring his fist down hard on the wall paneling, embracing the pain as a welcome distraction from his feelings of rage and shame.

He still couldn't quite believe that he'd lost his temper like that. On entering the conference room, he'd sworn to himself that he wouldn't allow himself to be provoked, would keep a grip on himself no matter what she said, and here he was, storming off like a sulking teenager.

Trip had no idea where his sudden outburst had come from. Maybe it was the way Ah'Len dealt with the situation, staying cool and controlled and at the same time treating him like a small child who wouldn't listen to reason. In a way, it had reminded him of the degrading scene back on the Xyrillian ship, and his shame and humiliation had come back full force, sweeping aside his resolutions not to let his emotions show in front of the Xyrillians.

And he'd made such a mess of it. Right now Jon was probably employing all his diplomatic skills to save the situation, once again covering for his Chief Engineer's inability to think before speaking.

Trip slammed his hand down on the turbolift panel, hard enough to make himself wince. Why did she have to come back? What gave her the right to come aboard and demand to talk to him, like she was the one who had a score to settle?

Once inside the lift, Trip leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. His legs ached like he'd just come back from a ten-mile run in the snow, and despite his thick pullover he was shivering. Phlox had warned him that staying up for too long was likely to make him feel that way, but there was no way Trip would be able to calm down enough to rest. The only reason he was headed for sickbay was that he needed a place to go, away from the prying eyes of his crewmates.

The turbolift came to a halt, and Trip pushed himself away from the wall, which proved more difficult than it ought to. His joints ached badly, and the short way to sickbay seemed a mile to him. He stopped briefly before pushing the door button, waiting to get his breath back. Trip knew that right now he wouldn't be able to stand through another one of the doctor's lectures.

Phlox, who'd agreed to move his experiments to sickbay when Archer had requested Trip's presence in the conference room, looked up from the counter as Trip entered.

"Back already, Commander?"

Trip nodded, hoping the doc wouldn't ask any further questions. "Thanks for lookin' after her, doc."

"You look exhausted, Commander." Phlox abandoned his test tubes and picked up a hand scanner. "Please sit down on one of the biobeds so I-"

"Doc." Trip held up a hand, only wishing Phlox would leave him alone. "Not right now, okay? Please."

The doctor hesitated, then lowered the scanner again. He studied him for a moment, and Trip could see the concern and worry in his eyes.

"I take it the, ah, meeting didn't go well?" he asked quietly, and Trip shook his head. To his relief, Phlox didn't press him for details, but simply laid his scanner aside, sitting back down in front of the counter.

"Maybe it would be a good idea to try and get some rest, Commander," he said. "You've had a busy day, and I can imagine that you are tired. You know where to find me when you need something."

"Thanks, doc."

Phlox smiled, and Trip went to the door at the back of the room, grateful for the doctor's understanding. At the moment all he wanted was a place where he could be alone.

Well, not entirely alone, of course. Quietly slipping into the room, Trip listened for Arh'Leen's breathing, and to his relief found that she was fast asleep. He had no wish to wake her, and made his way to the bed very carefully, sitting down on the edge of the bunk. His body was still aching, but despite an overall weariness Trip didn't lie down. The dimmed lights and quiet atmosphere of the room had a calming effect on the turmoil in his mind, and that was exactly what he needed right now. Calming down.

Trip's eyes fell on something on his nightstand, and he picked it up, smiling a little as he turned it over in his hands. It was Michael Rostov's teddy bear, the one the young crewman had donated for the crew's collection of "baby stuff". Malcolm had brought it yesterday together with the horror movies Trip had asked for, blushing slightly as he handed it over to Trip.

"I thought maybe she'd like it," he'd said, turning even redder, and Trip had found that he was right. Arh'Leen, who seemed to need physical contact like a human needed air to breathe, had taken an immediate liking to the stuffed animal's soft fur.

His fingers absentmindedly stroking the soft material, Trip felt the tension gradually ease from his body. Now that he had time to think, his anger seemed to vanish and remembering the scene he had caused, Trip felt his cheeks grow hot again. By shouting at Ah'Len and stomping out of the room he had only confirmed her perception of him as someone who lacked the self-control and rationality to think for himself. He'd meant every word he'd said, but losing control like that had put him on the defensive, allowing her to prove her superiority by reacting coolly to his anger. Trip doubted that she'd really listened to what he'd said. And probably she wouldn't have cared, anyway.

Arh'Leen gave a soft sound, almost like a sigh, and Trip looked over at the cot where the baby lay sleeping. It was strange how fast he'd become used to keeping part of his mind constantly tuned for any noise from her, ready to let everything else go when she was crying or whining. Jon had teased him about becoming an overprotective parent, and even though Trip had only grinned and waved him off, he knew that the Captain's joke was closer to the truth than he cared to admit. He did feel he had to protect Arh'Leen, see to it that she wasn't harmed, no matter what. And maybe part of his anger had been due to this protective instinct, or whatever you wanted to call it. No one was going to tell him what to do, or what was best for Arh'Leen. And Ah'Len least of all.

Trip heard voices talking outside the door, and looked up. He recognized the doctor's voice and another one, becoming more distinct as they approached the door.

Trip sighed. He'd hoped against hope that Jon wouldn't come after him, but of course the Captain's first and foremost concern had to be diplomatic relations. He couldn't just allow his Chief Engineer to walk out on a meeting with members of an alien species, no matter what circumstances.

As the door opened, Trip braced himself for what was to come. He was prepared to take whatever the Captain had to say, but there was no way he was going back to the conference room.

The person entering the room, however, was not the grave-looking Captain Trip had been expecting. It was S'Raan. Completely taken by surprise, Trip got up.

"Commander?" the Xyrillian asked carefully, his hand lingering on the doorframe as though he was afraid to venture further into the room. "May I come in? Your captain told me I'd find you here."

"Um... sure." Not sure what to make of this, Trip didn't really know what to say. The door closed behind S'Raan, and the Xyrillian stood rather nervously in the middle of the room, taking a quick look around. Then his eyes fell on the cot next to the wall.

"Is this..." He swallowed, and Trip nodded, surprising himself by smiling at the other man.

"Yes, that's Arh'Leen."

S'Raan didn't take his eyes off the small bed, his nervousness momentarily forgotten. "May I?"

In a way, his timid demeanor reminded Trip of one Lieutenant Malcolm Reed, and despite himself, he felt slightly amused.

"Take a look at her? Sure."

S'Raan approached the cot and crouched down in front of it. Silence ensued as they both regarded the sleeping baby. Arh'Leen's arms and legs had grown rounder during the last five days, and her bronze scales had somewhat darkened in color, giving her skin a shiny brown appearance. Trip threw S'Raan a look from the corner of his eye. The man's features had softened, all nervous tension gone, and his eyes filled with warmth as they rested on the sleeping child.

"How old is she?" he asked quietly, not taking his eyes off the baby.

"Five days," Trip replied, feeling strangely touched by the way the Xyrillian reacted to the child. S'Raan seemed to have waited for this for a very long time.

"I am sorry, Commander," the Xyrillian said quietly, breaking into Trip's thoughts. "Ah'Len told me about... about the differences between your species and mine." He met Trips eyes. "You must have suffered terribly."

Trip shrugged, embarrassed at the open sympathy in S'Raan's voice. "It wasn't that bad. I was unconscious when things got really nasty, and the rest of the time was okay."

Describing an alien pregnancy as "okay" was ridiculous, and Trip knew it, but what was he supposed to say? It wasn't S'Raan's fault he'd almost starved to death, or that he'd spent weeks in a coma due to the metabolic shock he had suffered. It had been a hard time alright, but it was over now. And Trip wasn't going to hold the wrong people responsible.

"Look," he said, feeling he had to make himself clear on that, "no matter what I said to Ah'Len, I don't blame you for any of this. I appreciate that you were willin' to help me, despite cultural ethics and all that. I know it must've been a hard decision to make."

S'Raan straightened up again, his eyes still fixed on the cot. "It was... at first. You know, when Ah'Len told me about what happened, it came like a shock to me. We hadn't seen each other for quite some time, with her being away on that mission and all, but still, I'd thought..."

He left the sentence unfinished, but Trip understood. "I'm sorry."

"It wasn't your fault," S'Raan said at once. "Ah'Len told me what happened. She neglected to tell you the truth, and you had no way of knowing about the ritual." He looked at Trip. "She is truly sorry. Ah'Len finds it hard to admit that she has made a mistake, but she was telling the truth when she said that she regrets what she has done." He paused. "I'm sure she would be willing to talk to your partner, tell her that it wasn't your fault."

Trip stared at him. "My partner?"

"The Subcommander." S'Raan hesitated. "She seemed rather... displeased when we met her at the airlock. I assume your relationship has suffered somewhat after this, but-"

Trip interrupted, biting his lip not to laugh. "T'Pol's not my partner, S'Raan. And she wasn't displeased, she was just controllin' her emotions. She's a Vulcan," he added, then realized that this wouldn't make S'Raan any the wiser if he had never met a member of that species before. "They suppress their emotions," he tried to explain. "That's why they sometimes come across as somewhat... reserved." To put it mildly.

S'Raan seemed surprised. "Then... you don't have a partner?"

"No." Trip shook his head, still digesting the idea of him and T'Pol being "partners". It was certainly... confusing.

"Commander..." S'Raan's voice brought him back to the present. "I... I need to talk to you."

Again, the Xyrillian seemed rather nervous, and Trip gestured at the chair next to his bed.

"Why don't you sit down," he suggested. Hesitantly, S'Raan complied, and Trip sat back down on the edge of the bed. "What do you want to talk about?"

The Xyrillian man looked down at his hands, and Trip had the impression that he was gathering his thoughts, mustering up the courage for what he was going to say.

"You know," S'Raan began after a while, "after Ah'Len had left her ship and come back to Thera, we had... an argument. I was angry, of course, but what was even more, I couldn't understand why she hadn't tried to talk to them. It's like you said - the child could have died, and she did nothing to prevent it." He took a deep breath, and raised his eyes. "I want to be perfectly honest with you, Commander. At the time, I wasn't so much worried about you. All I could think of was what was going to happen to the child. And I couldn't believe that she had simply left it behind." He paused. "I had wanted a child for years, but with Ah'Len being away most of the time we never really had the time to talk about it. When she first told me about you, I was just so... disappointed."

It was clearly not easy for him to talk about this, and Trip didn't really know what to say in response. "I understand," he offered quietly, and S'Raan continued.

"I had almost decided to end our partnership when Ah'Len told me she had called the fleet and asked for a ship. She... she asked me to accompany her, to have the baby transferred, after all. Some friend of hers, a doctor, had given her the necessary medical information, and all it took was my decision to let the child be transplanted to my body." He sighed. "I agreed. I was afraid of the journey - I'd never been off-planet before - but at the time I had no doubt that we were going to make it. And I felt responsible for my child."

"Technically, she isn't your child," Trip said, a little sharper than he had intended to. "The father's genes are not passed on to the next generation."

"She is my child," S'Raan stated simply. If he had taken offense at Trip's remark, then he didn't let it show. "Ah'Len and I are bonded. It is my responsibility to care for and protect her children." He didn't wait for Trip to reply, and continued. "During all those weeks we were looking for you, Ah'Len and I had a lot of time to talk. She told me how she had felt after Tr'Nal had told you to leave, and that she would never be able to forgive herself if you or the child died. When we realized that we were running short of time, she became desperate. I had never seen her like that before. She hardly talked to me anymore, and scanned all day for a trace of your ship. When we finally picked up your ion trace at that nebula, we both knew that it was too late. Still, we felt we couldn't... leave our child behind."

S'Raan met his gaze, and Trip knew what he was going to say. He had known all along. A hard lump of pain formed in his chest, and more than anything else he wanted to leave, walk out of the room so he wouldn't have to listen to what S'Raan was going to ask of him. But he couldn't run away again.

"Commander," the Xyrillian began quietly, "please believe me, we tried everything we could. If we had found you in time, I would have been more than happy to be the host for this child. As it is, we're simply glad that you have survived. And that she has survived. I can only begin to imagine what you've been through, and I understand that you're angry. In your place, I'd be furious. Still..." He took a deep breath. "Ah'Len and I are Arh'Leen's parents. And we do care about her. Very much so."

A moment of silence followed. "You want to take her with you when you go back to Thera," Trip said finally, swallowing hard to get rid of the dry feeling in his throat. It was a statement, not a question, and S'Raan lowered his eyes in response.

"Yes," he said quietly. "We do."

Trip sat motionless for a few seconds, then got up. He couldn't face S'Raan now, and neither could he give an answer to his question. Walking over to Arh'Leen's cot, he felt S'Raan's eyes on him, but ignored him. As he looked down at the sleeping child, the lump in his chest grew harder. Part of him wanted to tell the Xyrillian to go to hell, that there was no way they were taking her away. But he said nothing. Walking out on Ah'Len had given him a short reprieve; he'd never given her the chance to ask the very question he didn't want to hear. Now, however, with S'Raan asking in that quiet, apologizing way, he couldn't just start yelling at him, or refuse to talk to him. With Ah'Len, it had been the easy way out, but now Trip knew it wouldn't work anymore.

After a few minutes S'Raan quietly got up, but Trip didn't turn around. The Xyrillian offered a quiet goodbye before the door closed behind him, and Trip nodded in acknowledgement, his eyes still on Arh'Leen. Strangely enough, the baby hadn't woken up at the sound of their voices, and was still sleeping peacefully, her small brown hands resting on her chest. She didn't even stir at the soft hiss of the door sliding shut.

Even after S'Raan was gone, Trip didn't move. He stared down at the baby, and suddenly found himself wishing fervently the Xyrillians had never come back at all. Not now. How they simply turned up in a borrowed ship, offered their apologies and said they were going to take home their child with them - it didn't seem fair. In fact, it made him furious. He wasn't some kind of... of surrogate mother, goddammit, and hadn't endured all the pain and embarrassment only so Ah'Len could complete her domestic idyll in the end.

And he couldn't even blame them. Maybe that was the worst of all. Ah'Len had made a mistake, but she regretted it, and had done everything in her power to find him still in time. Too bad it hadn't worked out, but no real harm done, he and the child were still alive, after all. So what was he worrying about? In the end, everything had turned out alright, hadn't it?

Trip rested his hands on the cot's rim and closed his eyes. Cynicism helped him vent his frustration, but it wouldn't get him anywhere. He had to think of Arh'Leen, and there was no time for him to give in to his anger and self-pity, use it to push everything else out of his mind.

Strange, that he would feel that strongly about it. One should think he would be glad, being able to return the child to her own people, after all. She wasn't his child, and as he had told the Captain so many weeks ago, he hadn't signed on for this mission to end up as a working mother. So why wasn't he happy and relieved, now that he was offered the opportunity to get his old life back, and at the same time do what was no doubt best for Arh'Leen? Why was he feeling as though someone was trying to take an important part of his life away?

Opening his eyes again, Trip looked at the sleeping child. He took in every part of her appearance, the scales, the bony ridges on her forehead, and the strange, shiny bronze of her skin. No, she didn't belong here, and he was fooling himself, thinking that he could ever make her feel at home. On this ship, maybe; with a small group of people who were used to encountering new lifeforms and strange cultures with an open mind, who wouldn't reject her because of her alien appearance. But not on Earth, and certainly not in a small, closed human community such as, for example, his own hometown. Trip wasn't even sure if his own family would accept her.

It wasn't like he hadn't thought of all this before. But then it had been a given fact he had to deal with, something that gave him sleepless nights but couldn't be changed. Now it was different. Now he had a choice, had to make the decision Ah'Len had forced upon him by coming back. And he felt a helpless, irrational anger at her for putting him in this position.

Arh'Leen sighed in her sleep, and Trip reached into the cot, gently running his fingers across her cheek. It tingled faintly, and the baby quieted down at the touch. Trip continued to stroke her face, and felt his heart grow heavy as he watched her sleep. He had no idea what he was going to do.

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