By Lt.(sg) February Grace
80310.11
After Unanswered and Concurrent with the end of Spelunking
-=Quarters of Grace and Reece=-
80310.11
After Unanswered and Concurrent with the end of Spelunking
-=Quarters of Grace and Reece=-
-=Flashback=-
Four year old February Valentine Guinevere Dai was perched on the edge of her bed.
The ruffled, rose-embroidered, light blue bedspread wrinkled beneath her as she sat on it, and that worried her. She would have to be sure to fix it, as soon as she got up. To try to make it perfect again.
Her mother was dragging a stiff, unforgiving brush through her hair. Rapidly. Repeatedly. Painfully.
Beviny Dai always seemed to be in a hurry to get to something, or away from something, and this morning was no exception.
"Ow!" the girl protested, her hand reaching up and touching the tender spot at the top of her scalp that she was certain was going to be hairless soon, if this kept up. Her mother pushed her hand away, and she squirmed, squeezing her still dimpled, chubby fingers into tiny fists.
"If you would hold still, it wouldn't hurt." Beviny huffed with frustration. "Hold still, February!" As she yanked on the tangles in Bru's soft blonde hair, she queried her.
"What is the most important thing, always?"
"Our symbiont!" The child answered excitedly, knowing that giving the proper answer would earn her likely the only praise she would receive this day, or any other.
"That's right. The symbiont is always the most important thing to any host."
"More important than the people they love? Even their kids?"
"Yes. Even more important than their children."
"Why?"
"Because, the purpose of life for a joined Trill is not to raise a family, but to give a proper life to the symbiont, so that its wisdom can combine with the experiences of the host to create something that is bigger than all of us. Something that lives long after we're gone."
"Because the symbionts don't die."
"Not until they are very, very old. Through being joined, any host is privileged. Joining is very rare, and very few are chosen. That's why when you are chosen, you have to treasure your symbiont above everything, and everyone else in your life." She seemed smugly proud as she considered the fact that she was one of those 'chosen few'. It was a fact that she never allowed to leave the consciousness of her husband- who had not been accepted for joining.
"Through our symbionts, part of us will live forever."
February's tiny, pink rosebud lips turned downward, a troubling question forming in her mind. "Someday, when your symbiont goes to another host, will you still know me, Mama? Will you still be my family?"
"No, February, not in the way that we are now." Beviny explained as she twisted an elastic band into a section of Bru's straight, shining locks. "Everything that belongs to a host's past life is left behind when the symbiont is joined to a new one."
"Oh, no." February did not like the sound of that at all. What would happen to her, she wondered, if her mother wasn't her mother anymore? "But why?"
"It is the way of things, Feb. The way that things are meant to be."
"Why?"
"Because." The woman sighed, becoming tired of Bru's persistent questions.
"I hope your symbiont never gets another host." February declared honestly.
Her mother yanked harder on her hair, wrapping it into a tight knot at the nape of February's neck. Holding it there with one hand, she started twisting open sharp, wire hair pins with her teeth, one by one sticking them in to secure the knot in place. February's eyes watered involuntarily as the tips of them poked into her skin.
"Don't talk that way. Of course it will. By that time you'll be joined yourself, and you'll be grown. You'll understand."
"Couldn't your new host decide that they still wanted to be my family? Maybe, if you asked them?" The wish was much like the child who wished it- innocent, tender, and trusting.
"No."
Her mother refused. Flatly.
"That would be wrong. Just like the next host could not be married to your father, if he were still alive. That's called Reassociation, February, and it's very, very bad. It's the worst thing any Trill can ever do."
"But if they had a reason,"
"No." Beviny turned her daughter by her shoulders stiffly, her large eyes piercing February's.
"There is no reason that could ever make Reassociation right. It's the deepest belief of our people, and obedience means our lives. To do anything else means that when we die, our symbiont dies with us and that is the greatest shame any Trill can ever bring on themselves, or their family. We do not question why it is, but it is the truth that defines who we are. We accept it, and we obey. When you get older, you will understand."
*I'll never understand.* February thought.
"Go and put your shoes on now. Hurry up, be a good girl."
February ran from the room and into the entryway, picking up her shoes. She opened the door and squinted as she faced the bright morning sunlight.
She plunked down onto the front step, her tongue poking out slightly from the right hand corner of her mouth as she concentrated very hard on tying the laces of her shoes into perfectly proportioned bows.
She did try so hard to be a good girl. If she could just figure out how to do it just right, maybe her father wouldn't get so angry. Maybe her parents wouldn't fight.
If she could just be good enough, maybe her mother would change her mind and decide to love her more than she loved her symbiont.
*Someday, when I'm good enough, then she'll change her mind. She'll want to tell the next host about me, and they will be my family."
-=Flash=-
Lying in bed and recalling that conversation twenty-one years after it had originally occurred, February was shocked how vivid the memory still was.
She never had found the magic combination of behaviors and beliefs it seemed it would take to please them. To become "good enough".
Tears streaked down the sides of her face, dampening her pillow. She flipped it over, forgetting that she'd done so once already today, and the other side of the case was already soaked through.
She heard the door chime and sniffled, hurrying to wipe her eyes.
Whoever was at the door, she didn't want them to see that today, she was feeling like the clock had mystically wound itself backward- leaving her very much the four year old she thought she had long since left behind her.
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Lt. (sg) February Grace
Senior Flight Controller
USS Serendipity NCC-2012
Lt. (sg) February Grace
Senior Flight Controller
USS Serendipity NCC-2012