The Inabnet Reunion

T'Pren laughed and fed the last of the samples through the machines before moving to Adlai's side and settling herself down on the crate with him, their arms and legs pressed together while he drank his coffee. "You want some, baby?" he offered, holding the cup closer to her. She shook her head and rested her cheek against her father's shoulder. Together, they watched the old Trill man who had spoken to them earlier gesture for Muroc to join him on a bench. The Vulcan made sure his family didn't seem to need him before he obliged, speaking quietly with the other prisoner and occasionally casting looks in Pren's direction.

The halfbreed blushed and turned her gaze to Adlai's scarred, spotted, calloused hands. "Who's Father talking to?" she asked, reaching out to trace the new lines on her dad's fingers and thumb. Her brow knit as she took in the difference in his skin, which had once been so delicate and well-suited to lab work.

Adlai rested his cheek against his daughter's hair between sips. "Yinzad Trel. He was a Trill ambassador before the Cardassians overtook his ship about ten years ago. He's a good man and a wise one, even for a joined Trill."

"Mm," was the only sound T'Pren made in acknowledgement. She looked that way again to take in the spotted face of the old man in question. He caught her staring and sent a smile her way before turning his attention back to Muroc.

"He was a great comfort to us," Adlai admitted softly. "We'll introduce you once we've figured this mess out. I don't imagine we talked about much else but you the whole time we were there." He gave a laugh that turned out a little sadder than he'd intended. "He's practically your uncle."

The word 'uncle' drew a shadow across T'Pren's face and she sat up again, studying Adlai's features with the miserable air of someone who was about to tell a person they love something upsetting. "Daddy," she began reluctantly.

The human instinctively set his coffee aside and turned his full attention to his daughter, reaching out to cup both hands on either side of her face to hold her gaze to his. "Whatever it is, it can wait," he promised her with quiet confidence. But then it faltered and his eyes filled with tears despite his efforts to hide his immense pain from his child. "But this can't: my sweet Pren, light of my life, my little miracle, I know. I--I know what happened to you. Not all of it..." He took in a breath and looked up for a moment, blinking back the most threatening tears and unsuccessfully attempting to swallow the lump in his throat. "But...they...told me. That they had you. That they..." He let go of her then and pushed his hands over his face, pushing a little too forcefully at the sockets of his eyes and his brow.

The moment she was free to move her head, Pren dropped her chin to her chest and stared hard at her lap with her jaw clenched. Her hands began to tremble and as soon as Adlai was looking at her again he placed his larger hands over hers and squeezed, weighing them down as if he could assure her by just that touch that she was safe from whatever scared her. "And I'm so...sorry, Pren, I--" His voice broke and he stood abruptly, shoving his hand across his eyes and turning his back to his daughter and the room. He clapped his hands firmly to his hips with his elbows out and paced the forcefield anxiously, unable to escape his emotions and his agitation until it erupted and he slammed his fist against the metal wall of the cargo bay and then twisted hard away from it, shaking his hand out and cursing under his breath. T'Pren was too horrified to move to comfort him. She'd never ever seen him like this and she was still reeling from what he'd said. Without realizing that her own cheeks were wet, she turned to find Muroc, her expression pleading. "Father," she begged helplessly as he drew nearer.

He had already left the Trill's side at the sound of Adlai's fist striking the wall and was walking brusquely in that direction. He paused only to touch his thumb to Pren's lips, his fingers under her chin. "You have results to see to," he reminded her before taking sure strides to Adlai. What they spoke was lost to the noise of the room -- the medics, the other prisoners -- but their interaction was visible to all who were interested. Adlai was weeping and frantic, arguing vehemently with Muroc, who was soothing and stoic. Muroc tilted his chin and reached up with his fingers splayed and Adlai shook his head and moved away, his hands clutched into fists at his sides when he could stand to bend his wounded knuckles. With surprising roughness for the gentle soul that resided in the Vulcan man, he reached out to grab his husband's wrist and pulled him, struggling, to him, twisting him around with both hands on Adlai's upper arms until the human had no choice but to meet his eyes. Just as he had done moments before with his daughter, Muroc put his thumb on Adlai's lips, holding his chin much more firmly in place with his fingers than he had with Pren. And then Adlai melted against him, falling into those slender Vulcan arms and sobbing into his tunic. And although Vulcans don't really hug, Muroc wrapped his husband up tightly in an embrace and guided him to a quiet corner to sit, where they held each other while Adlai calmed down.

Left with nothing to do but worry, T'Pren did as her father had suggested and went to gather the results of the analyses on a PADD. She took it numbly over to the table where Zima sat and settled down beside him, pushing the tablet between the two of them so they could both see what had come of the samples. She opened her mouth to say something in the hopes of making it a little less awkward, but found she had no idea what that might be. So instead she just turned on the screen and lifted her brows at the robot doctor, oblivious to the saltwater tracks on her cheeks.

Zíma had been discreetly observing these intense displays of emotion with passive interest.
"Shall I begin analyzing and comparing these?" Zíma offered.

"Yes please," T'Pren replied gratefully, her voice a little softer than she'd meant it to be. She pushed the PADD further over to Zima and let her gaze drift to her cuddled fathers. As she watched them calm, she finally realized her cheeks were wet and shoved her shaking hand across it. Which is when something clicked. "...I don't have any hyposprays in here," she murmured suddenly, looking up at Zima.

"Do you require one now?" Zíma placed his med kit on the table without keeping his eyes off the PADD. "I bought three with me from sickbay."

Zima's preparation sent instant relief slumping through T'Pren's body and she looked gratefully at the robot before looking down at her hands to see just how bad her symptoms were. She'd noticed a little trembling when she was preparing samples, but had chalked it up to anxiety about working with her dad, impressing him with her mad DNA skills. But they were starting to shake now and she pursed her lips as she tried to remember when last she'd taken one. And then she'd been flying the ship for hours and then the shuttle and the mission and more flying and...

"You're brilliant," she told the doctor earnestly, reaching for the med kit so she could get the hypospray without having to disturb Zima's analysis. "Thank you, Doctor," she added. As she was checking the names on the sprays in the kit and pulled out the proper one, she suddenly paused and looked up at the synthetic being beside her. "What do you want to be called? I mean, if I don't call you 'doctor' all the time. Or do you prefer if I just call you Doctor?"

"I'm perfectly happy with Zíma, or Doctor. Whichever pleases you." Zíma set down the PADD and took the hypo from her, administering it himself, so that her trembling hands wouldn't waste the dose.

The half-Vulcan gave up the hypospray with relief and let herself be tended to, her shoulders drooping and her hands falling to rest in her lap while the medication kicked in. "You know," she said, her tone wry but weary, "eventually you're going to have to start figuring out what pleases you."

"I wouldn't know where to start," Zíma said, after a moment of consideration. He returned to the PADD.

"Start with your name," T'Pren suggested with a gentle smile. It faded as she let her gaze wander back over to her family. "I'm going to go check on my fathers. Let me know if you find anything?"

"I will," Zíma said, his eyes rapidly scanning information as it passed, and filtering it through an adjacent database.

It was with trepidation that T'Pren slipped silently to the corner of the containment field where her fathers were sitting, their arms around each other. When she got close enough to speak or touch them, she hesitated, uncertain suddenly of whether she would even be welcome in this intimate moment. She could recall countless occasions as a child when she had burst between them like a baby alien from a stomach and they had welcomed her with delight, but she'd never known Adlai to be so violent or volatile. She'd never seen Muroc handle his human partner so roughly.

But even at her quietest, she was no match for Vulcan ears. Muroc let his eyes find her above Adlai's drooped head. He gave her the barest of nods and though there was sadness in his eyes, there was warmth there that Pren knew immediately was only for her. So she stepped closer and put her small, pale hands -- steady now from the spray -- on Adlai's shoulders and a kiss on his hair. He clapped his hands on hers almost immediately and with great zeal, pulling her around him so he could see her face. And that's when the red alert went off.

Both Adlai and Pren stood up straight, training and instinct putting them both on edge. Muroc, a little more feverish now, stayed on the floor and made no move to try to keep up with his husband and daughter.

T'Pren came jogging back over to Zima, although she wasn't sure what he could do that she couldn't. Neither of them could do anything from here. "If you need to go, go. We can make do without you." It would just take them a lot longer to compare the data.

Zíma stood, his eyes still scanning the PADD as he packed up his med kit, leaving another hypo on the table.
"Captain. Do you require me?" he asked.