reversedpolarity | [future!verse]

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[future!verse]

The problem with letting Helen take care of most of the planning for the wedding meant having to make several trips up north in order to get things sorted out, because even if Helen was doing most of the planning, it was still his and Liz's wedding. He personally would have been happy leaving the decisions to Helen, but at the same time, he was trying to at least attempt to help make a few decisions here and there.

Currently, he was trying and failing to tell the difference between two types of flower, which were apparently different enough that they had to pick one or the other and by the way Helen talked about it, it was apparently a life or death decision. Okay, so maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration, but flowers were pretty much just flowers, as far as he was concerned. Eventually he managed to untangle himself from the discussion and went back to flipping through the magazine he'd brought with him.

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"No, it makes perfect sense. You naturally want to protect me and defend me and my father appears to be a bully worth fighting. I know. Trust me, I know," she sighs, "but if it makes you feel any better, you are the only man who has ever defended me. Any other guy I dated years ago and even friends just waited for him to leave the room. They were afraid of him."

She shrugged then, "I know it doesn't seem right or pleasant, but please try and be respectful. You don't have to like him. You don't have to really even be around him much. Just tolerate him for the time being."

He nodded, beckoning for her to come close so he could give her a proper hug. "I'll try, love. That's all I can promise, though, is that I'll try." Because his father-in-law got under his skin like nobody he'd ever met, and by now, even just being in the same room as him was uncomfortable. But for Liz's sake, he would try. "Should I apologize, do you think? Tae him, I mean." As much as he disliked the idea, if Liz wanted him to do so, he would.

She stepped closer and wrapped her arms around his waist. "That's all I want," she replied, knowing that there was nothing more either of them could do but hope the other would try. She already knew that much. When he asked if he should apologize she looked up at him and shook her head, even as much as she wished it was as simple as that. "He'd only say something horrible. It wouldn't be work it."

He nodded, hugging her close when she told him it wouldn't be worth it to apologize. In a way, he was glad that she'd told him not to, because he knew that even if he apologized he wouldn't mean it. There was no reason for him to apologize to Gerald for defending Liz except to try bridging that uneasy gap between them, and if it wasn't worth trying... He sighed, and leaned forward to rest his forehead against Liz's. "I'll avoid him, if it comes tae that. Avoid him, an' hope he doesn't go out o' his way tae find me an' say something."

"He doesn't try to find trouble or make it. When it comes knocking, however, he jumps on it and you will never win. It doesn't matter whether you are right or wrong or completely humble, he will tear you apart just because he wants to. And it isn't just you... it's anyone," Liz explained. She hated that she had a father that she had to explain that way. It was horrible that her life basically came down to that. She wished that more than anything, she could make it work. There just wasn't anything more she could do.

He nodded again, trying to suppress a sigh. "Right. So if I just... stay out o' his way, an' keep my mouth shut..." It would be difficult, though. Whenever Gerald said something to Liz, whenever he saw that look on her face when Gerald shot her down... It tore him up inside, knowing that there wasn't anything he could do about it but wait until Gerald was gone so he could try and help Liz pick up the pieces. That wasn't right, but there wasn't really any way to make it right.

"It isn't right. I know. I'm sorry you have to feel like you can't help, but believe me, it makes it worse if we fight him. Someday maybe I'll get up the courage to say something of my own, but until then, we have to let it be," she answered his thoughts quickly. She wasn't going to let that fester for too long or he'd get ideas and have a hard time keeping quiet around her father.

"Right, well." There wasn't much more he could say about that particular subject without getting upset about it again. "What do you say tae you an' me headin' back down tae look over more weddin' stuff, then?" Both of them, he suspected, could use a change of subject, and for once, he'd welcome the prospect of having to sit and look at thirty different kinds of tablecloths, if only it meant getting his mind off what was bothering him.

He was going to stay in a mood until they got home anyway. She knew that much. So she decided to move on and let him move on with her. She managed a nod and decided not to say anything else before taking his hand and heading back down where her mother was still at the dining table going through magazines and ideas. Liz took a seat next to her and Helen smiled warmly, bringing up those stupid flowers again. Liz laughed and protested yet again.

Monty kept his mouth shut on the subject of flowers; he busied himself going over the list of what they'd already picked out, looking for any mistakes, for lack of anything better to do. What are we goin' tae do with twenty strings o' white lights? he asked Liz, sending the question mentally rather than voicing it.

Liz snorted and her mother looked at her oddly. Of course she tried to wave it off as something that wasn't, I'm laughing because my telepathy works for me and my husband to communicate and make funny comments in front of you without you knowing. Instead Liz just shook her head and told her mother to continue while she directed a thought right back at Monty, I'm not sure that's enough.

He bit his lip, trying not to laugh when Liz snorted. Sorry. He wasn't trying to expose Liz's telepathy, after all. Keeping his expression carefully neutral, he continued browsing through the list, or at least continued looking like he was browsing through the list. Clearing his throat, he glanced up, and asked, "D'you think I should mark down a couple more strings o' lights?" And privately, to Liz, he added, Seriously though. What are they for?

Helen almost squealed, "Do we need more? I was thinking we might, but I didn't want to overdo it. Yes, add at least ten more."

Liz again, almost laughed. She was nearly losing it trying to keep quiet and she eyed her husband, Let her have her fun. They're for decorating. It'll be fine.

"Right, that's thirty strings o' lights," Monty replied, making a note of it on the list. He resisted the urge to keep mentally pestering Liz, but it was difficult. It wasn't hard to see that she was trying not to laugh, and he knew that if he didn't stop himself, this was going to turn into a sort of game for him. "Ah. Where are we puttin' them?"

Helen waved her hand at him, brushing off the question - a gesture that Liz had apparently inherited as well since they both did it at the same time. Helen was the one to answer though, "Oh, around. Don't worry. It will make sense when you see it."

Liz giggled and looked up at her husband, a little excited and a little anxious about the wedding. She just wanted it to be over with at this point. It was getting complicated.

He bit his lip and looked back down at the list, shaking his head. Right. No more questions about decorations from me. He really had wanted to know what the plan was, but apparently Helen had decided it wasn't something he should be worried about. I'll just play the part o' lost an' befuddled man in the midst o' weddin' plannin' then, shall I?

Again, Liz was on the verge of giggling and she looked at him with wide eyes and tried to keep her mother from noticing. She eventually shot a message right back, Yes, that is exactly what you should do. I thought you didn't want to be a major part of this anyway?

Her mother interrupted her thoughts by asking another question about something new and unrelated to flowers and lights. She had no idea what they were going to do with a bunch of ribbon like her mother was talking about, but she was just going with it. Liz was just glad that the dress and bridesmaid dresses were taken care of.

I don't want tae spend an hour arguin' about the differences between two types o' flowers, he sent back, a thread of amusement running through his thoughts. But I don't mind helpin', love. He spent a few more minutes going over the list. It was, he'd admit, a little boring, but at least he had Liz to talk to. "What colors did we decide on?" He glanced up at Liz and Helen, looking from one to the other. "For decorations, I mean. I'd feel out o' place if my kilt didn't blend in."

Liz laughed. Of course he would ask now about the clashing of the colors and his tartan. She smiled at him, "you think I didn't take all that into consideration?" She was teasing him, anyway. "We're going to put the girls in red and your men will be in the same tartan. And I'm having a formal sash made to fit with my dress." As a side note, I like that you want to help, sunshine.

"You think o' everything, mo grodh," he replied, grinning back at her. "Don't know what I'd do without you." He turned his attention back to his list again, still smiling. It is our weddin', after all. Making Liz and Helen do all the work didn't seem exactly fair. O' course I want tae help. I might not know what I'm doin', but I can try at least, aye?

"You'd be lost. You'd never have a matching outfit," Liz responded, not looking up at him, but briefly glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. She just smiled after that down at the catalogue of ridiculous bridal things. She wasn't even sure what she was looking at anymore. You don't know what your doing, but your enthusiasm is at least worth something. I figure if I let my mom do most of this, I have less to think about on the day of.

"That's the danger o' bein' in Starfleet so long, y'know," he said, unsure of what he was checking on the list now. He started to write in the margins instead, filling in the empty space with little diagrams and equations. "You get so used tae wearin' a uniform, the same thing day in an' day out, an' you forget how tae coordinate your civvies." The fact that he still had a uniform that he had to wear as an instructor at the Academy meant any hope he had of acquiring a fashion sense was long gone. As good a plan as any, mo grodh. Anything that makes this go smoothly is fine by me.

"Yes, none of the men have any sense for fashion. I imagine that this is why the concept of uniforms has never phased out," she teased. Really it was about rank ad being a part of a team and collectively being the Federation, but that was neither here nor there. Helen was smirking to herself listening to Liz and Monty talk and Liz was amusing herself by teasing her husband.

"Not tae mention the fact that we men look positively dashin' in uniform," he teased back, glancing up to grin at her across the table. "That's the real reason, see." His uniform had changed since he'd transferred to instructing at the Academy; he no longer wore red - that was reserved for the cadets. Instead, he wore all black now, which would have been fine by him except for the fact that he was used to ship uniforms.

"I forgot about that whole 'must look dashing' rule that Starfleet has. I imagine that there is some similar rule for why the women's uniforms are so short," she added with a laugh. Helen's eyebrows raised up slightly and looked back over at the two of them, thoroughly amused, but pretending not to listen in completely. Well, until she asked Liz about what her thoughts on seat covers were. Liz had nothing to say about that.

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