Fortune {Star Trek Enterprise Fan Fiction}

The Forever Harvest

"Take the perrazin by the horns." – Yimar

=/\=

He got into the cafeteria just in time to see Hoshi and José Torres sitting together. Hoshi had just said, "I'd love to."

Love to what?

Eh, it didn't matter anymore.

Except it did.

He sighed a little to himself and grabbed dinner. It was eggplant parmesan. Pan-fried catfish would've been better, but this was okay.

He found himself a seat, alone, and spent some time thinking. He would glance over, on occasion, but they seemed to be having fun and he was not one to intrude on a private party.

T'Pol walked in, and he couldn't bring himself to ask her to join him, either. That would not work. He had been told as much. It didn't work with her, and it didn't work with Hoshi. And here he was, in 2161, eating by himself and musing.

More crew members came in, and a few of the MACOs sat down with him. Julie McKenzie – he knew her. But they were not buddies, and she talked to her other tablemates and he was ignored, free to stare out the viewing portal and watch the stars slide by.

For Tripp Tucker, things had changed, and not changed, in the years of their mission. He had a good job that he loved. He had decent friends. But there was no one special, although it was not due to a lack of trying on his part.

He had had involvements, and some had had unexpected results. He had to smile a little, remembering that. But the two biggest involvements, they had been with T'Pol and, later, with Hoshi. And those had both gone south.

He had to admit, some of it was him being too needy. Reed. Gawd, Reed, of all people, being the first parent on the active crew roster?

He'd be calling home – Tripp guessed that calling Lili's place home was as good a descriptor as any – frequently. He'd be sharing photographs, probably. He'd be spending some of his free time looking at report cards and macaroni art and attentively listening for first words.

Reed.

And not him.

Tripp had been a father. The celebration at Movie Night wasn't quite right. But his becoming a father had not been intentional. And it hadn't had any fun associated with it. And Elizabeth had died so, so very young. She had had no chance whatsoever. There had been no celebrations, just a funeral.

And now, when there had been a celebration, it was for another. He didn't begrudge Reed one bit. And he had seen Malcolm becoming a little more emotional recently. That was a bit of a tipoff, and he had even once asked if anything was wrong, but Malcolm had been stoic although there was a faraway look in his eyes that said – don't ask about this. It's private.

Then again, Malcolm couldn't have possibly been less emotional than he'd been originally.

Hoshi and José left together, and she was smiling at him as he put a hand on her waist to guide her – an act of obvious, tentative, hoped-for intimacy.

And all Tripp could think of was the old expression: a day late and a dollar short.

=/\=

"You just, you smelled of oranges. And it was like sunshine and, and happiness. And I subconsciously began to understand that I was tired of darkness and shadows and wanted the sunlight. So I, I stumbled a bit over my words and I said, 'Almost.' Ha, and you asked me if I wanted syrup and all of that and I can't recall how I saved face and what I said to you but it became clear to me that I didn't have everything I wanted, because I wanted something new." – Malcolm Reed

=/\=

"Letting go, eh?" she asked, standing up in the hospital room and looking out the window. The funnel cloud was still out there, still enveloping her house, so far as she could see.

"Yes," Q said, "My species, we are, well, we are interconnected in many ways."

"How many of you am I talking to?"

"Just me."

"Oh. Well, what do you want to know?"

"How do you do it? Particularly when you've been deeply involved, and for a long time?"

"Huh. It's difficult. And in particular, it can feel like unfinished business. I mean, look at Malcolm and Pamela. They had a deep intimacy for about a month. And then she left, but they kept up a correspondence. And if the Witannen hadn't intervened, Malcolm would have met her and they would have, I'm sure, done what came naturally. In fact, I know that they did," Lili said, "but he was already, in his mind, over her and had moved on."

"He had moved on, to you."

"Yes," she said.

"So he had another entanglement. Would he have ended things with her if you had been unreceptive?"

"Possibly. A relationship that isn't working, well, it's not working. It doesn't, truly, matter, if there is a landing site, I guess you could call it, for one or both of the parties to just, well, take off."

"Or things could be opened."

"Or that."