The Edge of Seventeen

by Cheryl Petterson

(Standard Year 2282)

Return to Valjiir Stories

Return to Valjiir Continum

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EPILOGUE - STANDARD YEAR 2282
...Sometimes to be near you is to be unable to hear you
My love
I'm a few years older than you
My love...

He made it back shaken and sick and aching. The Clave received him with a hundred cheers and as many questions. He'd popped off the scanners just before hitting the Solar Corona, popping back on two hours later. Had he really make warp speed in a needle? How did he do it? Where did he go? How had he survived?

He pushed aside both questions and questioners, bolting from the Clave, heading back to the shipyards.

Terry - Terille. He understood now, and he had to see Ruth...

He stopped just before reaching the transporters.

See Ruth? How? Why? What could he possibly hope to accomplish? He would run to her, tell her that he was that very important lover - and what?

Take her.

It would be so easy to awaken all her memories - hell, hadn't he done so already? And it was so fresh in him, the pain and the love and the need, so raw, so strong... he was much too helpless before the power of the week he'd just spent with her - forty years ago. He'd barely had the strength to leave. If he saw her now....

You wouldn't, a frightening voice said within him. You'd fight Zilos - anyone for her. You'd use all the beauty and honesty you shared just to win her, to have her again.

And he'd left precisely to avoid that, to give her the life he knew her by. To give her her past.

And just maybe destroy your own future.

He swallowed, biting back his grief and anger and set the transporter for Luna Colony - then that one for New Orleans.

***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***

The bar was small and dark and secluded, with slow blues playing from a music center. Noel DelMonde had taken him there for his fifteenth birthday, telling him of aching nights spent in its comforting isolation. "Wit' all that giftedness inside you, son," his uncle had said, "you gonna need it sometime." He wondered now if Del was psychic in addition to his many other telepathic and empathic skills. It was certainly what he needed now - blues, darkness, seclusion. He had a variety of chemicals before him, a smoldering pipe of Rigellian, and lots of good liquor: Uncle Pavel's vodka, Del's bourbon, Tayos's scotch, Uncle Jim's Saurian brandy - even his father's sake. He downed jet and barb and sapphire, staying away from amber's beckoning golden glow and emerald's green hunger and especially venus. Indiians were particularly susceptible to venus addiction, and he was, after all, half Indiian.

Not barracuda?

Leave me alone!

He settled himself at a corner table, told the bartender to keep the liquor and the smoke coming as long as there were credits on it, and determined to lose the agony tearing deep into his soul.

***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***

"Zilama.

"I'm drunk and wasted and crashing on goddess knows how many hits of how many chemicals or I wouldn't be taping this. I won't tell you where I am or where I'll be until I can handle this - maybe never. Tell Danny I'm sorry and enjoy an extended visit with him.

"You already know - but now I know. That important lover - the week we spent at Berkeley - it happened, for me, a few hours after I saw you and you ran into my arms.

"Forty years ago for you.

"Didn't you ever connect 'Terry,' 'zilama,' half Indiian / half Japanese before? The violin, pointed ears, eight more kids than sounds reasonable... No. The way I left you, you probably pushed it all out of your mind. But you see, I did do it for you. And I kept my word - you saw me again. A week-old baby the first time, but...

"Never mind. Maybe you don't want to remember.

"I'm Katana, Zilama. I called your house a dump. I made you buy your coffee machine. I made you wear copper-colored spike heels. We laughed at that, remember? I took you dancing in London... You let me help your nightmares. We made love - at the Clave, in that small bed in your house, the beach, the hilltop, next to the pond - goddess, right here, right now, in front of Zehara and everybody... It was yesterday for me, not decades ago. It's so fresh, so real... I can still feel it...

"Damn, the sapphire isn't working.

"I'm sorry. I knew, but I couldn't stop it. Every night I'd say, 'tomorrow. I leave tomorrow.' And every dawn, seeing you, feeling your skin and your hair - one more day, Aema, I swear, just one more day...

"I was wrong. I took advantage - but you have to know it was more than fantasies come true, more than all the teasing we've done all my life. I was wrong to take it, knowing I couldn't keep it. I was wrong to hurt you. But I couldn't stop it and I needed to - to try and help you become the woman I've been in love with all my...

"Forgive me, Zilama. Forgive me. I did leave, I gave you back to...

"Forgive me.
"I love you.
Terille."

***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***

"Danny, where is he?!" Ruth cried.

Danny Valley sighed. "I told you, Ara, I don't know. Last I talked to him, he was going up to the Clave."

Ruth swore softly, pacing away from her son.

I have to find him, she thought frantically. He looked so awful on that tape... Terry, how can I tell you it's all right if you're afraid to face me? So long ago - Terry, don't you know that I love you, more than I did forty years ago, more now than when you were just my zilosi?

She closed her eyes, letting memory flood her. Terry. Katana. She had been lost, confused, alone, and he had given her self and acceptance and calm. Honesty, but not brutal. He'd coaxed gently, never demanded. And she'd given to him as she had never given to any other. A gift, one he took and returned freely. Gifts he taught her how to take. It was far more than sex, more, too, than love. Close to salish that night on the dance floor. If David hadn't interrupted...

All the details came back, more clear, more present than they had been in forty years. Why hadn't she ever added them up before? Was it simply that she hadn't wanted to? Had she been that willfully blind, that stubbornly stupid? He said it himself: 'Terry,' 'zilama,' half Indiian / half Japanese, the violin, pointed ears...Why haven't I ever noticed that he tilted his head exactly the way Jilla does? Damn it, I was the one who taught him "Don't Let It Show"! Did he know you could fit two in a needle because we'd done it and I told Sulu it was possible and he told Terry about it? Kichae made his needle - I knew that. Jilla complained about it. Sulu bragged about it. But I never realized it when he said his Japanese/Indiian brother made Katana? I never put together 'one older sister' - Jenshahn - one older brother, two younger brothers, Toshi and Renne, two younger sisters, Sam and Meko, and his mother's pregnant with twins - like she is now? Goddess, Zilosi, have I been feeding this to you all along - all the teasing, all the flirting, all the 'you're my favorite godson, you know'...Is this why you've always needed me, wanted me?

Her fingers came to her temples, the throbbing there bringing tears to her eyes.

It's a circle, goddess, you couldn't've known, yet you affected my whole life - and so I affect yours so that you'll affect mine...

Goddess, where is he!

Dei'larr'ei? came a soft question in her mind. I sense - despair?

Our zilosi/Terry/Katana! Ruth cried to her husband, and sent him all that had been revealed to her over the course of the last few hours.

Spock's mental emanation was full of the shock she felt.

One and the same? How?

Timeshot. God, Spock, he did a timeshot in a needle!

Again, everything she knew, all she felt was shared with him. He was silent for a long moment, then,

You love him, my salishe.

It wasn't a question.

Yes.

There was another long pause, followed by a sense of mild confusion.

Yet... there is no threat? Spock asked, and Ruth started as she realized it was truth. In salish there could be no other, but...

Does Zehara explain? Spock continued.

No, Ruth answered, trembling, then took a deep mental breath. Spock, he is... And she sent the image of Terry's taped message. The sudden fear and grief from her husband's mind was as great as her own. You feel it too?

We are salish, Spock replied, his tone as uncertain as she felt. Then it grew stronger, more sure. Can I but love him as you do?

Spock, I'm...

He waved her apology away. Where is he?

I don't know.

Wait. I come, my love.

Ruth swallowed. I await, my beloved, she agreed.

She replayed the tape as she waited for Spock to arrive from the Valkyrie. It made no sense. She was salish, there should be no thought of anyone but Spock. There could be no thought of anyone but Spock. Yet - she loved Terry, and it was not as her godson, but as the young man she'd cherished since she was seventeen. Or was that just a memory, an afterimage of love and desire?

She didn't know.

Terry, where are you?

***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***

Spock nodded to his son as he entered the cabin at Starfleet Headquarters. Danny grunted a greeting, then went back to staring pensively at his mother. Ruth rose from her cross-legged position on the bed, and came into Spock's arms.

"Help me," she whispered hoarsely.

"I will view his tape, Dei'larr'ei, and we shall see," he soothed.

"I'm so frightened..."

"Calm, my love. I am here."

Ruth was in tears by the end of the tape. Spock took a moment to control his own emotional reaction.

"Did the tape come by messenger?" he asked.

"Yes, but it was a general dispatch," Ruth answered wearily.

"Fleet admirals have certain prerogatives," he returned. "It will be traced."

"But Father," Danny said, "even that can only give us a city-sector."

Spock glanced at him.

"And this place is not familiar to you, my son?" he asked.

Danny shook his head. Spock nodded.

"It is a place to start," he said.

***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***

A few hours out from Headquarters, Commodore Takeda Sulu was swearing at the com screen. "I'll kill him," he snarled, "I swear, I'll fucking kill him!"

"Commodore," a stern voice with a heavy Cajun accent admonished, "th' boy hurtin'. I crotch-deep in these damn repairs or I go get him my own self."

"Mr. DelMonde," Jilla Majiir said from her position, standing next to the command console of the Amateratsu, "How did Terille contact you?"

"He not," was the curt reply.

"Noel has felt something odd all morning," Calaya DelMonde's voice murmured as she came into view beside her husband. Her silver skin was shimmering with distress. "It increased a few hours ago, and he keeps seeing your son in a bar he often frequents in New Orleans." She pronounced the name of the Terran city as Del would have: naw leeawn.

"An' he in a bad way, so I t'ink y'all best get your asses here in a damn hurry," Del added.

A soft sob escaped Jilla, and Sulu gave a frustrated growl. "We're hours out, Del," he said.

"Well, th' Valkyrie's already in," Del said. "Call his godparents."

Sulu and Jilla exchanged glances. "Good idea," Sulu said, then, "Thanks, Del. We owe you."

"Like that somet'ing new?" the engineer snorted. "You hurry on an' get here, Jilla. Them damn fireflies do more damage than a gator in a rat nest."

"How many ships?" the Indiian asked.

"Near half a dozen," DelMonde answered. "Jim's Federation is one of 'em. T-Paul's Romanov jus' towed in one o' th' new scouts." He paused before adding, "Jenni's Pegasus."

Sulu's grip on the arm of his chair tightened, and Jilla gasped.

"She an' Glorf all right though, mes ami," Del continued.

Jilla murmured a quiet prayer and Sulu's eyes closed for a moment.

"Thanks, Del," he repeated, and closed the com. He turned to his Helm. "Kelna, increase to warp nine."

The young Klingon ensign nodded. "Aye, sir. Warp nine."

Sulu sat back in the con, taking Jilla's hand. "He'll be fine, hon," he told her gruffly. Then he turned to Communications. "Get me a link to Fleet Admiral Spock and Commodore Ruth Valley."

***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***

"New Orleans, French Quarter," Spock reported as he turned from the com link.

"Del?!" Ruth exclaimed, her tone both hope and renewed worry.

"I doubt Mr. DelMonde is on leave," Spock returned. "The Fleet is in need of his expertise."

"But why would..." she began, and the communications terminal chimed again.

"Message for Admiral Spock and Commodore Valley from the Amateratsu," the disembodied voice announced.

Ruth raced to the terminal, quickly pressing the go-ahead signal. "They've heard from him," she prayed, "please, Goddess, they've heard from him!"

Sulu's face came on the small screen. "Ruth, Spock," he acknowledged, then went on brusquely. "We just got a call from Del. He says there's something wrong with Terry. He's at some bar in New Orleans, and he's drugged and stoned and wasted..."

"We know," Ruth broke in. "He sent us a tape."

Sulu frowned. "Looking for sympathy?" he asked.

Ruth's jaw tightened. "Roy, you don't know what's happened."

"With Terry? I can guess," was the bitter response.

"No, my friend, I do not believe you can," Spock returned.

"Fine," Sulu broke back in. "Whatever trouble he's gotten himself into..." He sighed. "I'm asking you to go pick him up. It's likely he needs medical intervention - and no, Spike, I'm not asking you to take care of it personally. Del thinks it's urgent, and we won't get there for another couple of hours..."

"It's my fault," Ruth whispered. "God, it's all my fault..."

"What's all your fault?" Sulu wanted to know.

"It is a long story, Sulu," Spock replied.

"Ruth, what is wrong with my son?" Jilla's voice said softly.

Renewed tears fell from Ruth's eyes, and she turned away from the com, unable to even begin to think of how to answer.

"We will care for him until your arrival," Spock promised. "I think - my friends, I think it best you hear the story from him."

"Spock..." Sulu began.

"Let us go to him now, Sulu. I will contact you when we have more news."

"Spock..." Jilla said, trembling.

"You have my promise, rilain," the Vulcan answered. He closed the com, and turned to Ruth. "Come, my wife. We must go to New Orleans."

***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***

They stopped in the engineering section just long enough for Del to tell them which bar Terry was at, then used their military IDs to gain priority access to the transporter station. When they arrived at the bar, the manager told them that Mr. Takeda had been taken to the New Orleans Medical Center after he had passed out and couldn't be roused. Ruth sobbed, burying her head against Spock's chest. The Vulcan thanked the manager, and called for an air car to take him and his wife to the medical center.

***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***

Ruth went into the small room alone. She needed to see Terry but was afraid of what Spock's presence would do to him. Spock agreed to wait in the visitor's lounge, knowing that she could contact him at a moment's notice.

Terry was sprawled on the diagnostic bed and she automatically checked the readings. His blood pressure was absurdly high, his heart rate erratic, his temperature a fevered 105. The scanner was attempting to decipher the chemical composition of his blood - there was a garbled read-out, identifying what the machine thought was sapphire and jet and barb, all in overdose amounts, mixed with Rigellian and a liver-killing amount of alcohol. There was a doctor standing next to the bed, a tall man with graying hair and bright blue eyes that reminded Ruth of Leonard McCoy.

"Are you..." He consulted his statboard. "Zilama?" he asked, his voice uncertain on the word.

Ruth nodded. "It means godmother," she said.

"You're Keheil?"

"Yes."

The man blinked. "I am Dr. Chaumont. You should know his condition is serious." He paused, looking at her as if to make sure she understood the gravity of the situation. When her eyes didn't leave Terry, he made a soft grunting acknowledgement.

"He's been calling for you." he said, then stepped away. "He's a grown man," he muttered. "He should know better."

She stood staring down at Terry's pale, sweating face, swallowing her tears. "Terry," she whispered, completely unaware she was speaking aloud, "what have you done to yourself?"

His rasping answer took her completely by surprise.

"Had to... to stay away... Zilama."

She bit back a sob and bent over the bed, stroking the dark hair away from his forehead. "Zilosi, why?" she moaned.

"Zilos," came the strangled reply. "Salish. Couldn't trust... toes melting." He took a ragged, catching breath. "Get away from me!" came out in an explosive gasp.

She took an involuntary step back. "You called for me!" she pleaded.

"Weak," he said tightly. "Damn doctors."

She came forward again, reaching for his hand. "Terry, I do love you, why are you..."

He roughly pulled his hand away. "Don't touch me!" he barked, then turned his head. "Zilama, I can't... I don't want... love me without..." A shudder convulsed his frame. "Want you, need... Aema, sumin tu, nothing else matters!"

Tears burned in Ruth's eyes and she again reached for him. "Let me sort out your..." she began.

"Can't," he wheezed. "Too much."

"Not for a keheil..."

"No, too open, too..." He licked dry lips, his eyes opening, burning obsidian. "Tempting," he finished hoarsely. "Please, Zilama."

"Terry, I can't just do nothing!" Ruth begged helplessly.

"And I can't do anything else!" he cried, then shuddered again and curled around himself - then went abruptly limp.

"Terry!" she cried. The readings over the bed were unstable and fading and the monitor began beeping furiously. Frantically she pulled him into her arms and concentrated.

***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***

Spock waited nervously, feeling the blockage that came with Ruth's healings. He did not enjoy the temporary isolation, though he understood its necessity. At first, Ruth had feared for Terille's reaction - and, if truth be told, his own. Vulcan mates were known to be possessive. He had accepted that she needed to confront the basis of the matter first - and without the distractions of jealous or fearful emotions. But now - she was attempting to undo the damage Terille had done to his system. Their zilosi's life must be at stake, or she would not risk hers - and her salishe's. Still the separation was uncomfortable, and it heightened his concern for his godson.

Terille, Terry, Katana. How had such a thing happened, how was it possible? He knew too well the importance that first relationship had had for Ruth - had he not accepted it in their Bonding, indeed, in their salish? He knew his wife believed, illogically, as she herself would admit, that if 'Terry' had stayed with her, she could have shared the Antari union with him rather than Spock. The fact that her salish with him had been successful certainly put the lie to that - did it not? The Zehara had always assured her people that it was so - salish only worked if the union was truly one decreed by destiny. But was that, after all, only another cultural truth, a way to ensure the genetic contribution of important members of the Antari race?

I wouldn't think along those lines if I were you, evan Amanda, came the Zehara's stern voice within his mind, and he nodded his acquiescence, bowing to her will in Antari matters as he had done since Sarek's conception nearly thirty years before.

But at any rate, there was no denying Terille's significance in Ruth's life. She loved him. He clearly loved her. And with the revelation of their previous contact, there was only more to bind them.

And if he were to be honest, he himself felt the emotional pull as strongly as Ruth herself did.

Yet - what would come of it? What could come of it? What possible future could there be? And if there were none, would the events of the past week - forty years in the past - tear them all apart?

His mind was suddenly filled with an image of raging fire and thunderous power and three bodies screaming in agony as the flames consumed their writhing souls. It got stronger, more immediate, beating at him, tearing into his brain... and Ruth's essence cried out, Terille's voice abruptly shrieking in terror and he fell to his knees, unaware of the doctors and nurses rushing to - and past him.

***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***

The drugs made Ruth's head hurt and as she cleared them from Terry's body, more and more pain came to her; raw agony, empty, desolate aching, deep fear and sorrowing, anguished grief. She felt herself drowning in his loss and the memories she had pushed aside for so long. It all came back to her with despairing immediacy, pulling her to guilt and shame. She had never blamed him, she knew he had hurt leaving her - Goddess, how much worse it is feeling his helpless guilt and knowing why? Terry, my darling, what you did for me, what you gave up - for me! I would have been yours... I never knew, never let myself know how much you wanted that. I would have, I swear it... Terry, Zilosi... I love you, I do! Believe it, feel it - live, please, Goddess, live! I know your sacrifice, I know what you fear, but I'm here now! Terry, feel! I'm here, I love you, I'M HERE!

Ruth?

The reply was weak and Ruth joyously accepted it, welcomed it, pulling it closer, giving him strength and comfort. His presence got more solid, more secure, the pain that was flooding her becoming tinged with relief - and desire.

Ruth? Zilama?

Yes, Terry, come to me, let me heal you! I love you!

Come to you?

Yes, I'm here, Zilosi, I'm here!

Desire grew, and with it, so did the pain, but Ruth ignored it. Terry's being came closer to hers, warm, gentle, accepting - loving.

You're never alone, Zilama.

No, not now.

I am.

No, Terry. I'm here.

Years, Ruth. It's been days but I feel all the years... I gave it all away, for you, to you...

I know, I'm so sorry... I give it back, Terry, I love you, still, always...

Love me, Zilama!

Ruth brought him closer still, holding him as the anguish grew. He was so hurt, so afraid, an abandoned cub seeking warmth, something real to nourish its frail life... as he had when he'd been but three months old and Sulu and Jilla were tearing each other apart in the bizarre pon farr that had been delayed by Terille's own conception and birth. She gave of herself as she had then, feeding his hunger, bringing him emotion and life - and the pain flared sharply. Still she ignored it, and he came closer and closer, their beings touching in her mind. Closer... closer... the oneness that had nearly taken them on the London dance floor swirling around them, building, merging... the pain searing her soul... raging fire, thunderous power....

Zehara's lightning struck and Ruth screamed, wrenching away from the union that was so close. She heard Terry's screams of helpless, wracking agony as darkness fell around her.

***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***

Terry was curled into a fetal ball when her eyes opened, doctors and nurses rushing into the room. She was still on her feet. The darkness that had enveloped her for what seemed like an eternity had in fact lasted only seconds. Frantically she reached out to Spock, and found him weak and in shock, but their bond, both Vulcan and Antari, was still whole and intact.

Salish! she reassured both him and herself.

Terille? came the unexpected, stunned reply.

I - I don't know. Come, please!

Still disoriented, he sent an affirmative, and moments later, stepped into the room. She held out an urgent hand and he moved to her, his strong arms coming around her, supporting her.

Dr. Chaumont turned from the bed.

"Keheil," he began, "may I ask what you have done to my patient? I intend no offense, ma'am, and he is free of the chemicals, but his condition..."

"Doctor, I can help that as well," Ruth returned. "After all the abuse his system took, he went into a mild form of empathic shock. If you will allow me..."

Dei'larr'ei, do you know what almost...?

Ruth answered the silent question. Yes, beloved, I know. I'll be more careful.

Do not shut me out this time.

She shuddered. I don't dare.

Dr. Chaumont was frowning. "And you are...?" he said to Spock.

"Spock. Keheil ani Ramy is my wife, and Terille is our godson. Both require my presence."

The doctor looked skeptical, but he stepped aside and motioned the others of the medical team out of the room.

Ruth drew on Spock's strength for a moment, then steadied herself and approached Terry, reaching out gently. "Terille," she said, both aloud and to his mind. "Terille, Zilosi."

Raw, lost agony came to her, nearly blinding her.

No, not again, leave me, leave me!

To die, Terry? I can't!

Goddess, you hurt me! I thought... I felt...one, whole... I need you!

Ruth swallowed tears. It can't be. Your Zilos...

Then let me go! I have nothing!

Terry, what about your father, your mother...

I need you!

Danny, Kam, Kelly, the Chameleon...

Ruth, you're my life!

She is also mine, Zilosi, Spock's soft voice interrupted.

At the touch of his presence, Terry recoiled, his fear and shame and envy a tangible lance of pain. I gave her to you, the Indiian rasped. Let it be, let me go.

We cannot. I love you also, Terille.

She's yours, I can't have her, Terry returned miserably. If it were reversed would you want to go on?

We are salish.

And I'm dead! came the rasping cry. Let me go!

NO! Ruth's strength thundered through them both. I love you, Zilos loves you! We can't share what we did then, I know that, but there is more between us. Zilosi, my life is because of yours, and yours because of me. I can't be to you what I was. You knew that when you left me. But we still have the love, Terry. We still have the last twenty years. I love you, I always have, I always will. Salish doesn't - didn't change that.

It only added my love to hers, Zilosi, Spock rejoined. Despairing disbelief flowed from Terille's mind, and Spock countered it with his own perplexed but certain comprehension. Yes, it makes no sense, but we must accept what is.

Could you accept it? Terry asked bitterly.

Terille, I do, Spock assured gently, or she would not be here.

There was a long moment of silence in which both Rush and Spock felt the churning of Terry's emotions; longing and hope, fear and trust, faith and misgiving. Finally, as always, his mind insisted on honesty.

I want you, Ruth. I'll never stop. Salish won't matter.

We'll deal with that together, Ruth promised, even as a flare of possessiveness came from Spock.

No, Terry replied. We won't.

Ruth hung her head ruefully. You're right, she admitted. But I only want to give you what you've given me.

A wash of bleak resignation came from him. You can't.

She sighed sorrowfully. I know.

It hurts!

I know. I'm sorry.

The flood of intense, dark devastation welled up from deep inside Terry's being, coloring his soul in shades of despair and self-loathing.

I hate you both! he screamed, then fell to hopeless, inconsolable weeping. I love you, goddess, I love you...

Spock's eyes were moist, Ruth's tears falling freely down her cheeks as they sent the only thing they could.

We love you, too.

***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***

After several hours, Terry was resting - not exactly comfortably, but in as stable a condition as could be managed. Dr. Chaumont promised he would keep them informed of their godson's condition, and they were just leaving the hospital when Sulu and Jilla came rushing in.

Ruth immediately moved to intercept Sulu.

"Don't!" she rasped, her eyes again filling with tears. "It wasn't his fault, he did the right thing..."

"I almost lost my son, what do you think I'm gonna do!" Sulu burst out.

"Daniel told us," Jilla added, her voice too quiet, her manner too rigid.

For a moment, they all stared at each other. Jilla's eyes were as slate-rimmed as Ruth's were red. Sulu's entire body quivered with fearful tension, each hand clutching the upper portion of the other arm. Spock tried to project his usual calm and strength, but there was a deep sorrow in his expression.

At last, Sulu and Ruth both started talking at the same time.

"I don't understand what he thought he was..."

"When you think about it, this had to happen..."

Then they both stopped, and said, "What do you mean?"

"There are too many closed time loops for this not to have happened," Spock tried to explain, and began counting on his fingers. "There is the matter of his knowledge that it was possible for two beings to travel in a needle, which he learned from you, Sulu, because you had learned it from Ruth who had, of course, learned it from him. There are the words to a certain Valley Collection song, which the seventeen-year-old Ruth did not yet know, to whom Terille taught them, because the adult Ruth had taught him, for he had taught her. There is the fact that he gave to her the ability to accept her empathy, to deal with her uniqueness, and to love through loss, because she had imparted it to him when he was but an infant, because he had..."

"I get the picture, Spock," Sulu interrupted.

"But it makes no sense," Jilla said, her voice trembling. She gazed at Ruth. "How could you not have known..."

"You were the one who told me Terry wasn't an Indiian name," Ruth countered.

Jilla frowned, puzzled. "It is not."

"But I - and Ruth, and just about everybody except you and Spock call him Terry, hon," Sulu pointed out.

Jilla flushed. "Still, there is the fact that he is half Indiian and half Japanese - and he has - his ears are..."

"Pointed, I know," Ruth finished ruefully. "And he plays violin. And calls me zilama." She gave a deep, tremulous sigh. "Don't think I haven't beaten myself silly over it."

"Don't," Sulu responded brusquely. "No one in their right mind would connect someone they knew as a teenager - who was older than they were - with a little kid who just happens to be the son of people who were no older than the person they knew when they knew him." He sighed, rubbing his temples. "If that made any sense."

"It does," Spock confirmed. "Such a conundrum is difficult to express logically."

Jilla took a deep breath. "May I assume that since you are leaving, he is...?"

"Stable," Ruth said. "Though..." She shivered, hugging herself. "I don't think he has much of a will to stay stable right now."

Jilla sobbed and Sulu pulled her into his arms.

"We'll see what we can do about that," he said.

"Roy - just don't yell at him," Ruth asked. "He's feeling enough guilt already."

"He should," was the tight response.

"No, my friend," Spock interjected gently. "I do not believe that to be true. What he did, he did for Ruth, not for himself."

"So he says..."

"You're too hard on him!" Ruth nearly screamed. "You've always been too hard on him...!"

"Only because I know what he's capable of!" Sulu shot back.

"He's NOT YOU!" Ruth shrieked. "He's NOT KAM!"

Sulu's face was etched with hard anguish. "But he could be, Spike. And that's the problem."

"No, that your problem, son."

They all four turned as Noel and Calaya DelMonde walked through the outer door of the medical center.

"I know what happen," Del continued to Ruth. "An' I understand jus' 'bout better than anyone else could." At her sudden, stricken, angry glare, he quickly went on. "No blame, cher, you know I got over that years ago." His hand sought Calaya's who entwined her fingers in his. "But th' plain truth of it is, I do. An' I would even if I not 'pathic, an' he not broadcastin' white-hot agony all over the damn pathesphere." He grinned sardonically at his newly made-up word. "So lemme help him, lemme show him what he need t' know t' live through th' next few days. N'est-ce pas?"

"Noel, I must see him..." Jilla pleaded.

Del turned to her. "O' course," he agreed, as if she was being exceptionally strange. "But I take over 'fore Mr. Hard-Ass can beat th' boy, non?"

"I'm NOT going to hurt him!" Sulu seethed. "For god's sake, he's my son, I LOVE him!"

"That is what you must keep in mind, Sulu," Spock advised. "He is in pain, he has suffered perhaps the greatest loss one can endure - and though it happened forty years ago, it is still fresh to him, still a new and raw wound." He gazed with steady earnestness into Sulu's fearful eyes. "Be gentle, lrnan. That is all we ask."

"Ruth - I have to ask," Sulu managed. "Did he - did what he did - did it - is salish...?"

"Still intact, Roy," Ruth answered, though she bent her head.

Sulu hardened. "Though I'll bet not for lack of..." he began, and Spock grabbed his tunic.

"ENOUGH!" he thundered.

Sulu's eyes narrowed. "Well, that answers that," he said.

Jilla had begun weeping again, and Calaya had stepped forward, then back awkwardly, torn by her response to the engineer's pain, and, as always, her revulsion at the damnation in the other's tia.

Del growled and stepped between Spock and Sulu, removing the Vulcan's hand with firm civility "Excusez-moi," he said to Spock, then, to Sulu, "A word wit' you, Commodore Dumb-Fuck."

He pulled the shorter man roughly to one side of the lobby.

"Now you lissen to me, mon ami," he hissed. "You gotta get a grip on yourself. Terry not no Divine Wind. He not got a breath of it in his pretty silver body. You t'ink I not know it if he done had? I been close wit' th' boy since he was as old as you were when that damned sick-fuck got hold o' you - and nobody done fucked wit' him - 'cept you!" Sulu started a protest, but Del went on furiously. "You gonna tell me you not hear the way Ruth talk 'bout her Terry? You not hear how good he was fo' her, how much he gave her, how she never learn to love after her family got killed if it not fo' him? You gonna tell me if you coulda got hold o' Jilla 'fore she met Selar, you not've done th' same damn t'ing? An' if you knew she had to marry th' damned Vulcan bastard in order t' have th' life an' be th' woman you love, you not've left her, no matter how it hurt? Mere de duin, Sulu, you empathic! You not feel how much your son dyin' up in that li'l hospital room?"

His last words seemed to finally sink in. Sulu blinked at him, tears forming in his dark eyes.

"You don't understand, Del," he rasped. "It's in him, I put it there..."

Del snorted. "So you a god now? You determine what his soul look like?"

"You don't understand..." Sulu repeated, the tears now falling fast and furious down his cheeks.

"What I understand is you gotta let this go," Del said. "You gotta help him, or he not gonna live through this. You can keep Kam in check 'cause Jilla love you, an' you love her. Well Terry jus' lost his reason, his love. So you - me - Jer - his mama, his family - we all gotta give him somet'ing to replace it 'til he can learn t' breathe on his own again." Del's eyes searched Sulu's. "You got me?"

Sulu's eyes closed. "I'm so afraid..." he whispered.

"I know, mon ami," Del said, much more gently. "Suck it up. That what ol' Jer gonna say, non?"

With an exhale that rattled in his chest, Sulu nodded.

"You go on up now, an' I be there in a li'l while."

Another nod, and Sulu turned, then said, "Thanks, Del."

"I know, you owe me," Del chuckled grimly.

He didn't expect his friend to say any more, but Sulu whispered, "You'll never know how much."

***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***

The sudden increase in emotion roused Terry from his despairing lethargy. Tia immediately identified it: fear, worry, anxiety, anger, relief, tension, grief, love - and the flicker of two still-forming essences.

Ama and Rosh.

Groaning, he turned in the bed. There was no escaping it; they knew. He had some bitter explaining to do to a badly distraught set of parents.

Before he could even sit up, he was pulled into his mother's arms, her trembling embrace nearly crushing his head to her desperately shaking body. He absorbed all the turmoil within her, and though it added to the pain he already felt, there was always something soothing about his Ama's tia.

"Live, please, rosi, live!" she whispered fiercely.

"I don't think they're gonna let me out of here until they're sure I'm gonna," he answered tonelessly.

"Good for them," came his father's rough voice - but there was something unusually sympathetic in the tone. He turned his head, peeking out from his mother's embrace.

"Yeah?" he asked, not-quite-skeptically.

"Yeah," Sulu returned, and moved to the bed, his hand stroking Terry's hair away from his face and ear. Terry winced, but there was only the gentle caress. His father's eyes looked tired, and he had clearly been crying.

"You okay?" he said.

Terry couldn't stop the snort of bitter laughter. "No."

Sulu sighed. "Well, that was a pretty stupid question, wasn't it?"

Jilla shifted as Sulu sat down on the bed. Terry pulled reluctantly from her arms, sitting up himself, wrapping his arms around his knees. After a moment's silence, he said, "So I assume you know."

"Enough," Sulu answered.

After another pause, Terry took a deep breath. "And?"

"And you beat Kamikaze's record," his father returned in a pale imitation of his usual teasing.

"We are only glad you survived, rosi," Jilla murmured. "We cannot judge what you felt you had to do."

"We can't?" Terry asked, his eyes flashing to Sulu.

"We won't," Sulu replied. His eyes closed, and then he reached out, cupping his hand behind Terry's neck. "I can't imagine what went through your mind, Terry," he said. "I can't imagine the kind of - of - alteration a timeshot would have in your brain or your tia." He looked into Terry's eyes. "Hell, I don't even know if there's any basis for saying that. All I know is..."

Jilla made a soft, pleading sound, and Sulu gave her a weary half-smile.

"All I know is," he repeated, "whatever you did, whatever came of it, or is going to come of it..." He held Terry's gaze. "You can't run from it. You have to face what you are, what you did, what you could do."

Terry grimaced. It was the same old shit, the same dire warnings he'd heard all his life. "I know that," he said tightly. "I wasn't running from it. I just had to stop myself or..."

"Or what?" Sulu pressed.

"Or I - I might - I could - goddess, I don't..."

"Say it, Terry!"

"Sulu..." Jilla began.

His father made an abrupt gesture and she fell silent again. "Or what?" Sulu snapped.

Terry grit his teeth, the pain burning behind his eyes, in every beat of his heart. "Go back," he managed. "Get in Katana and..."

"Don't lie to me!

"Damn it, I'd go to her now and take her now and make her love me now and to hell with Spock!" Terry cried hoarsely. His eyes were furious and full of hatred. He heard his mother gasp and she turned to Sulu, who pulled her close, his tone now as soothing as it had before been relentless.

Terry broke, sobbing violently, and he was suddenly being pulled into his father's arms, his head against a chest tight with fear and regret.

"That's right, rosi," Sulu whispered. "You know it, you can fight it. It's hard, I know, but you're strong..." His voice held a hint of a smile. "You're your mother's son, and you're as good as she is."

Terry pulled away, staring up at his father in bewildered surprise.

Sulu swallowed, meeting his son's gaze with trepidation - and resolve. "I've pushed you, I know. And I know you never understood. But... I did it because..." He had to stop, to take a wavering breath. "I did it, so that if this - something like this - ever happened, you'd have the strength to do what's right." New tears formed in the eyes that were so much like Terry's own. "And you did. You do. It hurts - I know it hurts to have to face what you could do, and I know what it takes to keep from doing it... but you are - you did... you will. I know that, Terry. I can trust that now." He took another ragged breath. "You don't know how proud I am of you... and there's help, when you need it - help and comfort and... Celletyea, tu rosi, celletyea..."

Then he broke, his head bending so that his forehead touched Terry's. Jilla sobbed, her arms coming around them both, and they cried and wept out old fears and new anguish until the pain began, ever so slowly, to dull.

***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***

"Your Uncle Del wants to talk to you," Sulu said after the emotion was spent and the tears were dried. "Then I think - if you want to - it might be best..."

"We wish you to come home, Terille," Jilla broke in softly.

"I know all about the Chameleon," Sulu went on, "and I've talked to Kichae, and he's agreed to take a look at her for you in between Fleet repairs - which might take a month or so..." He shrugged, his eyes both apologetic and pleading.

"Some bribe, Dad," Terry replied with a sad smile.

"Your sisters miss you," was Sulu's response.

"Not my brothers?"

His father gave a short huff of laughter. "Well, Toshi's at Alterra med school, and Renne is - well..."

"Renne," Terry finished.

"You are a good influence on him," Jilla rejoined.

Terry raised an eyebrow.

"You're definitely Aeman," Sulu explained, leaning forward, as if that act would keep his voice from Jilla's sensitive hearing.

"He's only seven," Terry returned. "How can he have made up his mind?"

"Must be the Vulcan genetics," Sulu confided. "Y'know, the whole kahs-wan thing."

Terry snorted, warmed by the smile in his father's eyes. He turned, meeting his mother's anxious gaze. "Well, I guess I'd need to talk to Kelly and Kam and Danny, but..." He took a breath. "I think I'd like that, Ama," he finished.

Jilla embraced him and Sulu folded his arms, nodding.

"We'll leave our com frequencies with the hospital staff," Sulu said, "And when they're ready to release you, we'll come get you."

"Okay, Dad." Terry looked up at a soft tap on the doorframe, meeting Noel DelMonde's warm gaze.

"He's all yours," Sulu said, then turned and gave his son a hug. "You listen to him, you hear me?"

"Asi, Rosh," Terry answered. He got another embrace and a kiss from Jilla, then his parents left the room. At the door, Sulu turned, his right hand lying flat against his chest for a moment, before extending out toward his son. It was an Indiian gesture, a 'farewell and I love you.' It made tears start again in Terry's eyes, and he saw his Uncle Del giving Sulu an approving nod.

He sat up a little straighter in the bed. "Where's Aunt Calaya?" he asked.

"She not need th' emotional aggravation," Del said, then strode across the room to ruffle Terry's hair. "You look like shit, boy," he observed.

Terry grimaced. "Thanks."

Del sat next to him on the bed. "Okay, we gonna skip th' redundant shit an' get right to doin' somet'ing 'bout th' real problem," he began. "First, you gonna listen t' me 'cause I know exactly what you goin' through, an' you know I do."

Terry nodded. "I'm sorry," he offered.

Del waved it away. "It in the past fo' me, son. Most important is, you gotta let those that can help you do it. I never had nobody t' tell me that, an' if I had, it might've gone a whole lot less hard wit' me."

"Assuming you'd've listened," Terry said quietly, then gave his uncle a half-grin.

"Mais, there is that," Del conceded gruffly. "Anyway, you gonna be bleedin' out from them pretty pointed ears, an' you gotta take th' emotional transfusions people are willin' t' give." He gazed appraisingly into Terry's eyes for a moment. "People like Danny Valley, an' Kam Paget, an' Kelly Kirk."

"And my family," Terry added softly.

"Yeah?" Del returned, his eyebrows rising in pleased surprise.

"He didn't hit me," Terry confessed with sheepish pleasure. "He didn't even yell at me."

"Glory hallelujah," Del muttered. "Will goddamn wonders never cease." He shook his head, a twisted grin on his lips. "That good, Terry. That real good."

"I'm gonna - stay on the Amateratsu for a while."

"Good fo' you, son. Bein' wit' your mama's bound to help more'an jus' 'bout anyt'ing."

"It's after that I'm worried about," Terry murmured.

Del sighed. "Yeah. Okay, second t'ing is, don't try pretendin' that ever't'ing all right. It not, an' ever'body know it. You be as weak an' angry an' pissant as you need t' be, an' if anyone get on your back 'cause of it, you not hesitate to remind 'em o' jus' what you lost. There no profit in playin' th' brave li'l soldier."

"Isn't that gonna get a little tedious?" Terry asked.

"Hell, yes - an' after a bit, it even gonna get tedious fo' you. But if you hold it all in, it jus' fester an' gets worse an' bigger an' you end up feelin' put upon an' all fucked-up sorry fo' yourself." He leaned forward. "That magnify th' hurt, Ter. That isolate you from all the healin' that around you."

Terry nodded, then took a deep breath. "Uncle Del," he began slowly, "how did you - before Aunt Calaya, how did you stand to - to see her with..."

"I imagined 'bout a thousand different ways t' kill him," Del said bluntly.

Terry shuddered. "I can't do that," he whispered. "Even thinking about it..." He glanced up helplessly. "Goddess, Del, I think - I think I may be as much in..."

"Fuck, don't say it!" Del snapped. He rose abruptly, paced the length of the room, then turned back to Terry. "It the damn salish, non?"

The agreeing nod was laden with misery.

"Shee-it," Del sighed, and rubbed his fingers over his forehead. "I mighta known."

"So what do I do?"

Del thought for a moment. "I guess th' same t'ing you do 'bout her, then," he said at last.

"Let it out," Terry sighed. "Don't try and pretend. Let the emotions of the people who care help."

"An' drink," Del added wryly. "Drink a lot."

"That's what put me in here," Terry replied ruefully.

"Mais, you not hafta empty every bottle in th' whole galaxy all at once."

"Oh, that's where I went wrong."

Del snorted, and stepped next to Terry, giving him a one-armed embrace. "It gonna be hard, son," he said. "But you can talk to me whenever you need to." He tapped his temple. "I only a thought away."

"Del..." Terry looked straight into his eyes. "Am I gonna make it?"

"I not psychic, son."

"Wish you were," Terry sighed.

"Yeah, a whole lotta shit might be avoided if I was," Del answered. He paused. "You gonna be all right fo' now? 'Cause I gotta get back to the shipyards."

"I think so." Terry was silent for a moment, then, "Del.... Will it ever stop hurting?

"I 'fraid not, mon fils," Del replied sadly. "I 'fraid not."

***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***!***

Danny and Kam and Kelly were understanding, especially when they heard that Kichae was going to improve the Chameleon. They decided to use the time to investigate some promising trading leads. Jeremy Paget had been all sympathy and good advice, even offering to take Terry for what he called 'testing the warp drive,' and telling him to 'ask N.C.' when the Indiian had asked what the hell that was. Even Jenshahn and Glorf had been unusually supportive, with the galaxy's first male keheil offering to see if he could modify the connection - assuming the Zehara would let him. And it hadn't mattered that Terry had reacted with a violent negative, because it turned out the Zehara had apparently smacked the back of Glorf's head rather firmly at the suggestion. His Aunt Jade had tentatively offered her counseling services if Terry ever felt the need, which Terry graciously declined, receiving a soft, sad sigh in return. His Uncle Pavel had taken him for a night of heavy silence and drinking, with Aunt Daffy's astounding approval. He avoided the Valkyrie and his violin like the plague, concentrating on soaking up the hectic life and love of his eight-more-than-sounded-reasonable siblings and the quiet strength of his mother - and the new-found pride and comfort of his father. When the month had passed, he left SanFran and Terra with Danny and Kam and Kelly and the Chameleon without even a goodbye message for his Zilos and Zilama.

The End

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