By February Grace and Lance Hartcort
100626.00
Time: Current
“Let us beware and beware and beware…of having an ideal for our children.
So doing, we damn them.” D.H. Lawrence
-=Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum, Earth=-
-=Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum, Earth=-
[[Airplane!]]
Gillan Tress began pumping her short, chubby legs furiously as her father struggled to carry her. [[Down, down. Airplane!]] She signed again. Her cherubic face glowed twin apples of bright pink across her cheeks, eyes as blue as Earth’s Caribbean sea glinted in the light. [[Down!]] She made a soft, frustrated noise at the back of her throat, and catching the look in her mother’s eye as she continued to struggle, she stopped fighting, looked into Jariel’s eyes and signed one more word. [[Please?]]
Jariel smiled.
He set her down and, before she could take off, he touched her face affectionately. [[I was going to let you go anyway,]] he assured her. She grinned as she looked up to Fleur for reassurance that she could indeed go exploring now, in this, her idea of heaven or any such place of reward for good little Bajoran girls who mind their parents and hold still for their doctors when they want to scan them…again.
Fleur nodded her approval and Tress squealed. She took off running with her parents and the rest of the Sera's stateside, celebratory crew in tow.
Vol Tryst, at the back of the gathered assembly, paused. He tilted his head to the side a moment. He was about to turn around but a familiar, gentle hand squeezed his shoulder. The woman it belonged to nudged her head back toward the man Vol was focusing his keen senses on.
"I know that you're the counselor and all, but it doesn't take a Betazoid to know that guy is pretty pi..." she stopped before finishing her sentence. "Anyway. Maybe what he needs most right now is a friend."
Vol considered. Before he could speak, February began again.
"I promise, you're welcome to take a crack at him after the movie, but I know a little lady over there who will be very disappointed if she doesn't get Vol to sit next to her during the show."
Just as she spoke the words Tress turned back, darting between adults to find out what was taking Vol so long. She signed at him furiously and he turned his fine, handsome face toward hers. He was unable to stop a smile despite the thunderhead of emotions that was hovering over the silent figure across the room. [[Okay, Tress. I'm coming.]]
The child would not take any chances, though- she seized hold of Vol's hand and pulled as hard as she could. The Counselor took off with a stuttering start, his shoes skidding on the highly polished floor. "Good luck," he called back.
Bru sighed. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and headed off in the direction of that tall, dark cloud.
Once she was within a close enough distance that she knew he'd hear her, she addressed the Serendipity's Chief Medical Officer.
“Hey, there, you. Buzzkill.”
Hartcort looked up. His lips twisted, one eyebrow slowly elevated above the other, painting his features as the perfect picture of incongruity, left to right. He’d been called many things in his life before, but never that.
Instead of speaking he turned his index finger in on himself, poking it into his chest.
“Yeah, I’m talkin’ to you.” Bru plopped herself down beside him and watched, shaking her head and chuckling slightly as little Tress tried signing to Sophie as she squirmed in Dabin’s arms. “They’re going to see Big Bird and Elmo in the holographic theater over there,” she indicated the sign that said One Big Sky- Remastered in full holographic surround for another generation at the Smithsonian.
“I think one of the absolute best things Earth ever did for the rest of us was inventing the Muppets. Five hundred years later still classic.”
Lance watched Tress as she skipped along, grabbing at the goggles of her beloved aviator’s hat with dimpled fingers and securing them down over her wrinkled nose. He couldn’t help but frown as the rest of the group vanished into the empty theater, leaving him and Grace alone in the vast, echoing foyer.
“Doctor,” February reached out and placed a soft, pale hand upon his shoulder. He glanced down at it for a moment, observing how her fingers, so thin and spindly, looked like they were spun from glass. How such slight, unassuming digits could ever race across the helm of a vast ship like Serendipity and command her at will, or manage and control with speed and accuracy the power of one such as Alchemy, never ceased to amaze him.
“Lance.” He said softly. “You’ve redecorated my Sickbay, I think you’re entitled to use my first name by this point.”
“I still want to do something about the potted plants,” she said absently, twirling a strand of her hair around her fingertip. “I never did quite hit the mark with those.” She shook the thought from her mind now and looked up toward the theater doors. They swished shut now, enveloping the group and leaving behind only the sound of a chorus of laughter- Dabin's, Sophie’s and Tress’ all in harmony, floating up and up toward the ceiling and into her ears. “It’s good to see all the children having such a good time. And I do mean all.”
Hartcort’s expression soured completely. The moment that he was certain the sound system inside the theater would mask it from all ears but those of the Trill seated next to him, he let go the last of his control and made a sound that could only rightfully be called a growling shout of frustration. He launched out of his seat and propelled forward, pacing away. His hand tugged back at his hair before finally coming to a rest at the back of his collar.
”I could’ve cured her, damn it. We could’ve done it, and she’d be able to hear the sound of that laughter now.” He shook his head sadly, looking up first at the propellers of the great planes suspended overhead and then down at the shining floor beneath his feet. “We could’ve done it, February. It’s such a,”
“Don’t say it.” February stood and approached him, arms clasped around her middle. She shook her head swiftly, once, and then sought out his eyes with her own. “Don’t say it’s a waste. Don’t say it’s a shame. Don’t say that she should be anything other than she is in this moment.”
“But she should be. You can candy coat in any fashion that you want but when the hammer hits the nail, she is not what she should be.” He turned and paced a few steps away before turning and coming back. He voice was low and sad. “This is not how she was meant to be. We are not talking able a child who was born with out her hearing. A child that was designed not to hear by Fate or by a higher being or beings or whatever.
“She was injured, hurt. Tress’ hearing was stolen from her buy the evil acts of her fellow man.” He crossed his arms. “We could have fixed that, put her back to where she should be.”
February simply listened, knowing that he wasn't anywhere near finished yet.
He sighed. “Despite all of the politically correct drivel that people spill she will always be handicapped by this choice. Sure, she’ll lead a full life. As full as it is possible for a deaf girl.” He lifted his eyes to Bru. “But despite all of the pleasantries and euphemisms that we drone on about those who are handicapped being able to lead a normal life, it’s not true. The real truth is that there will be things that she will never be able to do.” He glanced up at the various items of flight on display and shook his head.
“Tress has been handicapped today by choice. A choice was made to keep her hearing from her.” He rubbed his eyes. “This time her hearing was not taken from her by evil men, but by those closest to her.”
Grace could hold back no longer. “Did you turn out to be just what your parents wanted you to, Lance?”
Hartcort blinked. “I don’t see what,”
“I sure as hell didn’t.” She bit her lip and considered her words a long moment before continuing. “I don’t know you that well yet. You may be everything your parents ever dreamed of. Mine- mine pretend that I’m dead now because of the choices I’ve made. But that’s not my point.”
“What is your point, Lieutenant?”
“So, I only get to call you Lance when I agree with you?" She smiled gently, but Hartcort's expression did not alter. "My point, Doctor, is that you did everything you could do today. You weren’t able to do what you wanted to do, but you were able to do what the patient needed you to. You did what was, on this day, in the best interests of the family.”
“Self serving.”
“Maybe, maybe not. Have you got kids, Hartcort?”
Lance’s eyebrows now both shot heavenward. “Not of which I’m currently aware.”
“Well, my symbiont has been a parent several times over. I’m new at this, but Grace has been keeping me from freaking out, well, most of the time.” She watched as he analyzed very closely the wing of another plane on display. She gazed up toward the cockpit, again, her mind wandering. “I wonder what it was really like to fly one of these bad boys. Not on a holodeck. The real thing. I bet it was terrifying. Exhilarating and terrifying. Sort of like being a parent.”
Hartcort said nothing, now taking his turn to simply listen.
“Can I tell you the big secret about parenting?”
He waited.
“None of us have any idea what the hell we’re really doing.” She shivered, as though chilled by the ghost of some long-ago forgotten memory, only waking to the moment again after years lost in her slumbering mind. “We like to think we learn as we go. But every kid, every situation, every day is different and there is no way to know until years down the road if we botched up the job or not. Kind of like medical research. The far-reaching implications and repercussions of every decision can’t possibly be considered at the time a decision or experiment, if you will, is undertaken.”
She placed her hand upon his arm, and he locked eyes with her at last.
“Sometimes we do okay. Sometimes we screw up, royal. Most days we can only hope that we heed Lawrence’s warning and so don’t do any real harm.”
“Lawrence’s warning?” His voice was uneven, hoarse as he spoke the words.
“Yeah. D.H. Lawrence warned us against having ideals for our children. Said that ‘So doing, we damn them’.”
“But what about making decisions that,”
“They did what they felt was best, Lance. Today. Tomorrow they may change their minds. If they do, then the technology will be there. Who knows how many people will be helped by it in the interim, even though it didn’t help Gillan Tress today.”
“But the time lost,” Lance’s voice dropped, only now conveying his true frustration. “I’m not sure this will be am option in the future. The body has a way of adapting and recycling. I don’t know how long those nerves will stay alive. Plus, the longer she waits, the loss of time with out speaking…”
“So she’ll learn it again, if and when the time is right.” February only now began to consider something else, and so decided to leave him with this thought before finally giving him some space. “You didn’t fail.”
Hartcort’s eyes now flashed anger- she’d touched too close and clearly hit a nerve. “What did you say?”
“You didn’t fail, when she lost her hearing to the fever on Bajor. You saved her life, Lance. Any other doctor, and she may well only be a memory now. She may have been someone I would never have gotten to meet.” Bru’s eyes held tears now, and silently they crept over her lashes and splashed down her face. “Forget for a moment her parents- I know they’re grateful to you for all you did. I just want to tell you now that I’m grateful now. So thank you, for all you did for Tress and all the rest on Bajor." She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. “Someday, when the time is right, she may come to you herself and ask you to restore her hearing. Or.”
“Or?”
“Or she may ask you to sign the service someday when she gets married, knowing that she wouldn’t have lived to see the day if not for you. So you’d better get to work on earning your Captain’s rank by then, my friend. You wouldn’t want to have to turn down such a request on a technicality.” She turned to go. Hartcort's anguished voice echoed softly over her shoulder.
“I could’ve done so much more.”
She looked back at him as she grasped hold of the handle of the door leading into the theater, prepared to join the others.
“Today. Ask yourself if you’ve done all you can at the end of the day, every day. If you can answer yes to that question, then there’s nothing more you can require of yourself.” She smiled at him with the gentle, sincere empathy she was known for, inclining her head as she added one final thought. “Until tomorrow.”
Doctor Lance Hartcort
Chief Medical Officer
USS Serendipity NCC-2012
and
LT. February Grace
Chief Flight Controller
USS Serendipity NCC-2012
Chief Medical Officer
USS Serendipity NCC-2012
and
LT. February Grace
Chief Flight Controller
USS Serendipity NCC-2012