Title: Anniversary

Author: Chrysa

E-Mail: chrysa9@aol.com

Rating: G,

Category: Friendship

Codes: A/S, (a little Tu)

Summary: Challenge fic: Why was Hoshi Archer's first choice as a communications officer despite the fact that she was second in her class?

Archiving: LD as always gets first dibs. Anyone else ask.

Disclaimer: I don't own them I just own the fic.

Author's note: Companion piece to 'The Lure' another fic I did which is archived at the LD. Like the other fic this assumes that Jon, Hoshi and Trip have known each other for years.

Muses won't stay in the closet long enough to let me finish anything! ::sees Malcolm muse streaking across the room in nothing but a towel.::: Get back here! I still have to edit that one fic! Argh!!!! This is what I get for writing at 4am.

***

A soft breeze drifted across the beach ruffling the leaves on the trees and the blades of grass that marked where the forest ended and the beach began. Grains of sand were lifted and carried away towards the ocean then away, landing when the breeze died for a moment only to be picked up again when it returned. The waves lapped at the shore in a gentle, never ending melody as the dunes shifted.

Jon couldn't remember how long he'd sat there in the circle of her arms, his sobs finally dying into soft sniffles. Her cheek rested against his head as she rocked them back and forth on the warm sand. Dimly he heard her humming a lullaby that he knew her own mother had sung to her long ago. It was comforting and he sat there a moment longer as her small fingers found the tears on his face and gently wiped them away.

He'd come to the beach to be alone, to brood, whip himself about a past he couldn't change. He did it every year and every year she and Trip found him. Reminded him that he wasn't alone in his grief. They'd spent enough time in the Archer household to look upon Henry as a second father. With Henry's death, a guiding force in their lives had been snuffed out.

"Where's Trip?" Trip had been the one to carry the little model over to him. He hadn't touched it since the funeral and he was certain he'd left it in his apartment when Enterprise had shipped out. Seeing it, as shiny and new as it had been all those decades ago, had opened the floodgates.

"Down the beach a little ways. You know Trip. When everyone starts crying he has to go off and cry alone for a few minutes before he can face a crowd." Her voice caught slightly and he knew she'd been crying as well. He'd been too wrapped up in his own grief to notice. Jon smiled, though. Trip, ever ready to make someone else feel better using humor. So much hidden emotion under that good ol' boy exterior that it even caught him off guard sometimes and he'd known Trip for over a decade.

He looked at the model again. "How did you get that? I was sure I left it behind."

"I went in and looked of course. Trip was suitably horrified that I'd rummaged through your belongings but he got over it. He's spent the last few days trying to get her to fly." There was a smile in her voice and he could almost picture the conversation that took place between his two friends when she showed Trip the model.

She knew him too well. It was only fair he supposed. He could get her to do anything with the right lure and she easily cut through his crap and get to his core. Then again, hadn't he bared his soul to her more than once? Evenings that started with the three of them immersed in work and ended with Trip passed out on the couch from exhaustion and the two of them talking-no, that wasn't right. He would talk about his father's dreams, how he'd been held back, and she would listen patiently even though she'd heard his rants hundreds of times before. Then, at just the right moment, she would say, "Tell me, what does Jonathan Archer want?"

A subtle reminder that there was more to him than being Henry Archer's son and that he had dreams of his own to fulfill. She'd been his touchstone when he felt lost and uncertain. A balm to frayed nerves with her certainty that if he put his mind to it he could do all that he wanted and more.

He took a deep shuddering breath, the ocean air filling his lungs transporting him back decades to another beach, another time. Even the model of the Enterprise lying on its side in the sand was eerily reminiscent of that day. How close he'd felt to his father that day and nowJon took another deep breath and shook his head marveling once again at Hoshi's ability to look into his soul.

"I miss him so much."

"I know." She pressed a kiss to his cheek before resting her head on his shoulder.

In typical Jonathan Archer fashion he'd avoided talking about it preferring to hide in his quarters, brood and reopen the wounds again and again until he bled to death. This was their first year out with the warp five engine, his father's dream made a reality. With the anniversary of his father's death approaching he'd sunk further and further into melancholy wishing he could talk to elder Archer, wanting to share everything the Enterprise had accomplished. More importantly, Jon desperately wanted to tell his father that his life hadn't been in vain. It had been worth everything they'd both sacrificed.

Hoshi moved, lifting his arm and putting it around her shoulders so she could snuggle into his side the way she used to when they watched thunderstorms together. He held her close, glad and grateful for her presence in his life. As usual, when Hoshi couldn't communicate with him one way she inevitably found another way to get her point across. "A child prodigy is still a child," she'd once told him. "Many times we aren't heardso we find other ways of expressing ourselves."

That had stayed with him for a long time. It had been the deciding factor in his choosing her for communications officer. Her ability to instantly translate languages and hear sounds other people couldn't was innate. It couldn't be taught. But it was her desire to understand the words and decipher the motivations behind them that caught his attention. In a universe where first contact with a new race hinged on the interpretation of a single word, Jon needed the best. It didn't matter whether she'd been second in her class she was the best person for the job he needed done.

Jon smiled ruefully. Admit it; that was the captain thinking. The rest of you couldn't bear the thought of leaving part of your family behind. He felt her eyes on him and, after a moment, he looked down at her and smiled. "Have I told you how glad I am that you're here?"

"Nope. But, then again, I never told you how glad I am that you convinced me to join Starfleet."

"Is this a mutual admiration society for two or can I join?"

Hoshi and Jon looked up to see the third musketeer walking towards them. "There's always room for you, Trip," Hoshi said. "Provided you brought the pecan pie."

"Of course I did," the Southerner replied as he clapped Jon on his shoulder a silent expression of his own grief. Jon reached up and squeezed his hand in reply. Trip sat cross-legged on Jon's other side and picked up the controller for the model. "Porthos is guarding it from the rest of the crew." He handed Jon the controls. "Shall we see if she'll still fly?"

Several sand dunes away Porthos' barking caught the attention of several crew members and they looked up in time to see Henry Archer's dream take flight once more.

fin