Dei Gratia

By ginamr

Rating: G

Genres: family romance

Keywords: Lorien

This story has been read by 661 people.
This story has been read 1195 times.

Summary: Trip rushes back to Earth to see his dying father and Lorian ponders the mystery that is crying.

Author’s Notes:  I came up with this idea late in the night on an energy high. Also, for everyone’s reference, the latin title means ‘by the grace of god’ in English.


 She sat watching the horizon, the glow of the two celestial bodies turning the evening sky red. Pulling the shawl closer around her, she closed her eyes allowing the winds of the coming night to cool her skin. After adapting to the environment aboard Enterprise, she’d found it less than pleasant readapting to the harsh, humid heat of Vulcan.


He thoughts centered on her husband, who was inside of the house preparing the evening meal. She had offered her assistance, but he’d told her to relax for awhile. A near-disaster had encouraged him to enlist Lorian’s help. Kara watched, giggling uncontrollably as her father rushed about the kitchen, nearly knocking Lorian over in the process.


As each day passed, she feared what it would mean when he passed on and she was still alive, forced to carry on without him. The moisture sprang to her eyes once again and she blinked back the tears.


“If ya keep thinking like that I’ll have to show you just how young I still am.”


She turned at the sound of his voice, startled. Deep in thought, she hadn’t sensed his approach. Coming up behind her, he wrapped his arms around her waist, nuzzling her neck.


“Just cherish the time we do have, darlin’.”


T’Pol sighed, closing her eyes and imprinting every detail of this moment onto her memory. “I will not live long without you.”


Trip frowned. “Now don’t think like that. We knew going into this that you could outlive me.”


She nodded, squeezing his hand. “And yet we chose to follow through.”


A soft sigh passed his lips, and she shivered at the feeling of his warm breath against her skin.


Smiling, he nodded. “As the saying goes, ‘it’s better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all’.”


“Daddy! Uncle Malcolm’s calling!”


Reluctantly, Trip pulled away from his wife, placing a lingering kiss on her cheek before heading inside to answer the communiqué.




“What do you mean he’s dying?!” Trip shouted.


Just yesterday, he’d been fine. Trip had been talking to him about bringing Lorian and Kara by for a visit.


Malcolm sighed. “He’s not in good shape, Trip. The doctors were so sure that they’d fixed it.”


Trip grimaced. That was what they’d said the first two times, too; but this time, he’d almost believed it.


“I wish those damned quacks would make up their damned minds.”


Trip saw Malcolm’s expression somber immediately and his stomach churned. He knew that that could mean only one thing.


“How long?” he choked.


For his part, Malcolm didn’t bullshit him or dance around it.


“A few days…maybe less.”


His throat tightened and he felt the tears filling his eyes. He blinked them back furiously, fighting with every ounce of willpower to keep his voice steady.


“Isn’t there…isn’t there anything they can do for him?”


Malcolm shook his head, trying to hold himself together. “I’m sorry, Trip,” he said softly.


“It’ll take even the best transport a couple of days to get to Earth,” Trip observed.


Malcolm nodded, sighing. “I guess the only thing you can do is to have faith.”


Lorian saw daddy rush to grandpa’s bedside, his hands shaking.


The little boy of five watched, stunned, as daddy gripped grandpa’s hand tightly and started to cry. He’d only once seen daddy cry like he was now and that had been when he and mommy had had a big fight. He’d never heard mommy yell like that and daddy hadn’t ever told her to leave before.


She’d only been gone a few hours when he’d seen daddy sitting on the couch, crying. When daddy had seen him (he’d been four at the time) and his sister, Kara (who’d been three at the time), he’d hugged them both tightly to him.


“Damn, I’ve screwed up this time,” he’d sobbed.


When mommy had finally come home the next morning, daddy had given her one of the longest, deepest kisses Lorian had ever seen and had dragged her straight to their room. Lorian had known that he wasn’t allowed in his parents room when the door was closed, but curiosity had won and when he’d opened the door slowly, his eyes had widened at what he saw.


Daddy had been shoving his thing into mommy and she’d been screaming. It looked like daddy was hurting her. He’d almost revealed himself to tell daddy to leave her alone when mommy had rolled daddy onto his back and had forced herself onto his thing, making him scream.


Puzzled, Lorian had wondered if this was the way grown-ups fought when they were alone. All that he knew was that he didn’t ever want to fight with somebody alone. It looked like it hurt.


A sudden high-pitched squeal snapped him out of his thoughts, causing him to cover his sensitive ears. He looked between grandpa and daddy, frowning.


“Grandpa sleeping?”


Trip smiled weakly, tears streaming down his cheeks. “He’s on his way to meet Jesus, Lorian.”


“The nice man in heaven?”


Trip laughed softly, gripping his son’s hand. “Yeah. Let’s pray he makes it safe, huh?”


Lorian nodded, following his father’s example, closing his eyes and bowing his head after putting a hand on grandpa’s knee.


“Our Father in Heaven, hallowed be thy name; thy kingdom come; thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven…”





When love grows into poetry.

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