Chapter Text
Of all the people to show up at his door at 2300 hours, Shran is the one Trip least expected to find loitering nervously in the hallway when he answered the door chime.
“Commander,” Trip says, “everything ok? You didn’t come to take back that antimatter injector, did ya?”
He’s not sure what that particular twist of the antennae means, but he’s pretty intuitive about body language in general, and the slight hunch in Shran’s shoulders is clearly discomfort.
“No! No. The injector is all yours, Commander Tucker. I came to apologize for my… insensitive comments earlier.” He shifts his weight to his other foot and grimaces, not quite managing a smile. “I’m still struggling with my understanding of human culture. It was wrong of me to project Andorian values onto the situation with your sister.”
“Hey man, don’t worry about it.” It’s probably not appropriate to stop calling Shran by his title, but the poor guy looks so miserable Trip falls naturally into an unprofessional concern. “You wanna come in? I was just gonna have a little whiskey, plenty to go around.”
“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to impose.”
“Please, Commander, you like drinking alone? Always better with company.”
Shran does manage a smile this time. “Then I thank you for the invitation.”
Trip pours two drinks and offers one to Shran, who takes it gladly. He looks like he’s going to down it but stops when Trip just takes a sip and awkwardly mirrors him.
“Don’t worry about earlier,” Trip says. “We all got our own ways of dealing.”
“Oh, I’m not sure I was ever encouraged to deal with my problems,” Shran chuckles to himself bleakly. “We put my brother’s name on the Wall of Heroes and venerated him, and I was expected to go out and seek vengeance in his honor.” He looks wryly at Trip. “There’s no real emotion in that. Not like I saw in your eyes when I mentioned your sister.”
Trip nods, not sure how to address the sudden openness from the gruff alien.
Then the most surprising thing of the night so far happens. Shran reaches across the table and touches the back of Trip’s hand. He’s warm and more gentle than Trip thought possible from him and when he speaks again his voice is soft and earnest.
“I’m sorry, Commander Tucker.”
“Uh, yeah, like I said. No big deal.” Trip knows he sounds like an idiot but he feels like that time Phlox sicced one of his weird animals on him after an away mission and his whole body went numb. He takes another drink.
“You humans,” Shran says. “I’ve never met a species so willing to forgive.” He shakes his head. “I appreciate both the drink and your understanding.”
“It was awful nice of you to tell me about your brother, too.”
Shran finishes off his whiskey and lets go of Trip’s hand. Trip misses the contact immediately. “I wanted you to know that I sympathize.” Turning his head, he gazes out at the stars, antennae bowing toward them. “The universe is a frightening place.”
“But it sure is exciting.”
Shran laughs and casts his gaze to the floor. “Yes, it is.”
“Hell, for every Xindi that wants me dead, there’s bound to be an alien that would wanna be my friend. Don’t wanna toss the baby out with the bathwater.”
Shran looks confused by the idiom, but raises his head and eyes Trip anyway. “Undoubtedly.”
“You trying to be my friend, Commander?”
“I was under the impression we already were, unless you usually make a habit of drinking with your enemies.”
“No, I suppose there ain’t much sense in that.”
Shran’s face doesn’t give anything away. He simply holds eye contact with Trip while his antennae do semaphore on his head.
“You want another? Or do you need to be heading out?”
“I think I can stay a little while.”
Something in the way he says it makes Trip wish he’d stay longer than that.