What's In A Name?
Posted on Wed Mar 18th, 2026 @ 4:59pm by Lieutenant Commander Aer Feshau-Patton & Colonel Jack Patton
3,470 words; about a 17 minute read
Mission:
Mission 5 - The Cold War Ends
Location: Jack & Aer'S Quarters - Falton Station
Timeline: MD05 - 0125 hours
The quarters were dim when the door slid shut behind them, lights low and warm instead of clinical. The hour pressed gently against everything, that soft, late-cycle quiet where the station seemed to exhale all at once.
Aer moved first, shoes abandoned just inside the threshold with a tired huff that was more felt than heard. She didn’t bother straightening them. Her back ached in that dull, insistent way that came from too many hours standing, too many conversations, too much noise. One hand settled at her lower back as she crossed the room, the other brushing her abdomen without thought or ceremony.
She paused near the viewport, leaning her forehead briefly against the cool glass. Faltan Station glimmered beyond, all ordered lights and distant motion, worlds contained and controlled. For a moment she just stood there, breathing.
When she finally turned, she let herself sink onto the sofa, careful, slow. The exhaustion showed now, in the way her shoulders dropped, in the way her head tipped back against the cushions.
Her eyes found Jack, and she smiled faintly. Not the smile she wore in public. The one meant only for him.
“Remind me,” she murmured, voice low and rough around the edges, “that next time someone throws a party on this station, I volunteer to run it from a chair.”
Jack tossed his head cover on the table and unzipped his uniform tunic. Thankfully the party went off without a hitch. He knew that was in no small part to his and Tomer's planning. "I shall my love. But if I have my way there will be no more parties such as that on the station. It is a large security risk that does not need to happen." His demeanor changed from business to personal. "How are you feeling? Do you need anything?"
Aer huffed out a tired little laugh as she eased herself down, shoulders sagging now that there was no one left to perform for. “You know,” she said, watching him with fond amusement, “you get very intense when you’re in full XO mode. It’s kind of cute. Terrifying for everyone else. Cute for me.”
She shifted again, clearly trying to find a position that didn’t make something ache. One hand lifted toward him, palm up. “If you’re asking what I need… water would be amazing. Cold. And if you’re feeling especially generous,” her lips tugged into a small smile, “my feet are killing me. Like, mutiny-level killing me.”
Her expression softened as she looked at him, all the sharp edges of the day finally worn down. “I’m okay,” she added quietly. “Just wiped. Been on my feet too long, and the twins made sure I didn’t forget it for a second.”
Jack retrieved the water from the replicator and brought it over to her. "Perfectly chilled as requested. As to your other request I am sorry I can't do that. I hate feet." It was the one thing Jack hated, feet, he wasn't sure why. He just thought that they were gross. However, the look in Aer's eyes at the moment would not be denied. He sighed heavily. "You are lucky I love you." He sat down on the bed next to her and began to rub her feet. "At least you put on a good show of looking scared in front of the rest of the crew."
Aer let out a startled little laugh as his hands found her feet, the sound slipping free before she could stop it. “Jack—” she warned softly, half a protest, half a plea, toes flexing on instinct before she forced herself to relax. “That’s… unfair.” The ticklish edge faded as his touch settled into something steady and familiar, and she sighed despite herself, head tipping back against the cushions. “See? This is why you’re lucky I tolerate you. Hate feet or not.” One eye cracked open to look at him, amusement bright beneath the tiredness. “Also worth noting,” she added lightly, “I am currently carrying two of your children. So really, I think this earns me lifetime foot privileges.”
She took a slow sip of the water, then glanced down at her stomach, her free hand resting there with an absent tenderness. The room felt quieter now. Safer. “You know what hit me tonight?” she murmured, voice softer. “We’ve planned security rotations, contingencies, evacuation routes… and we haven’t even picked names.” A faint, almost incredulous smile tugged at her mouth. “Two whole people in there, and all we’ve got so far is ‘the twins’.” She looked back at him then, eyes warm, a little more intent now. “I don’t want to keep calling them that. I want to start figuring out their names. Tonight.”
A small smile curved at her mouth as his hands kept working. “Even if we argue about them. Even if we don’t agree yet. I just… I want them to feel real in words too.”
"I agree. I would hate to have to call them thing one and thing two forever. If I am totally honest, I would go Luke and Leia for a boy girl set." Jack said with a smirk. Truth be told he was only half joking about those names.
Aer blinked at him.
“Luke and… Leia?” she repeated carefully, like she was testing unfamiliar phonetics on her tongue. “Are those… Terran war heroes? Ancient monarchs? Should I be concerned?”
The smirk on his face told her everything.
She narrowed her eyes slightly. “You’re making a joke. I can hear it in your pulse.”
Her fingers curled loosely in his shirt as she shifted, studying him with exaggerated suspicion. “If one of them comes out with your stubborn streak and that dramatic pacing habit, then ‘Thing One’ might actually be appropriate.”
She tilted her head, a slow smile spreading as the warmth returned. “Though knowing you, Thing One would insist it was in command of Thing Two by day three.”
Her gaze softened then, hand drifting unconsciously to her abdomen.
“But no,” she added gently, brushing her thumb in a small circle over the fabric there. “If we’re choosing names, they need to mean something. Not just to you. Not just to me. To both of us.”
The smirk fell away from his face and was replaced with a genuine smile and look of love for his wife. "I agree, one hundred percent. It is a long standing tradition in my lineage to name the first born son after our greatest ancestor. This way there was a George Patton in every generation. My father being the man he is broke that tradition and named me Jack instead. George Patton the ninth has a distinct ring to it perhaps."
She watched him instead, the way his voice shifted when he spoke about it. Not bravado. Not ego. Just… history. Weight.
“The ninth George,” she repeated, quieter this time, tasting the shape of it. “That’s kind of beautiful, actually.”
Her hand drifted over her stomach again, slow and absent.
“We don’t really… repeat names like that where I’m from,” she said, almost apologetically. “Everyone gets their own thread. Their own sound.” She glanced back at him, softer now. “But that doesn’t make your way wrong. It matters to you. That’s reason enough for me to take it seriously.”
She shifted a little, drawing one foot away so she could curl slightly toward him.
“If we have a boy and you want George in there somewhere… we can do that. It doesn’t have to swallow him. It can just… sit with him. Like a root.”
She went quiet for a moment, thinking.
“For a girl, though…” Her lips curved faintly. “I don’t want to name her after someone. I want to choose something that feels right. Something that carries where I come from without sounding like a history lesson.”
Her fingers traced a small circle against her abdomen.
“Arinel,” she murmured. “It means something like ‘quiet horizon.’ The edge of something new.” She smiled a little at that. “Or Saelis. That one feels steady. Warm. Like light that doesn’t burn out.”
She looked back at him then, not solemn — just open.
“They’re going to be Pattons,” she said gently. “They’ll grow up with your stories, your stubbornness, your terrible jokes. I just want them to have a piece of me in there too. Something that hums a little differently.”
A teasing spark returned to her eyes.
“And if we do end up with George in the mix, I reserve the right to use the full name when he’s in trouble.”
"So, George Patton the ninth if a boy and Arinel Patton if a girl. I like the sound of that." Jack spoke with a look of genuine and total love on his face. The kind of love that no amount of time can break. His look changed for a moment as his mind came to that thought of time. "I have been doing some research on interspecies children where El Aurians are involved. It seems that the one trait that your people bestow without question is their longevity. I am overjoyed that our children will be able to span the centuries with you." Jack shared that relatively deep thought and then returned to his normal demeanor. "When he's is in trouble I would expect nothing less."
Aer was already smiling when he said the names aloud.
George Patton… Arinel Patton.
Hearing them spoken like that changed something. They stopped being ideas and started feeling real, like they had already stepped a little closer into the room. Her hand settled over her stomach again, thumb brushing slow, absent circles as if the sound of their names might somehow reach them already.
“I like them too,” she said quietly. “They feel right when you say them.”
When Jack’s tone shifted, she caught it immediately. The brief seriousness in his voice, the way his thoughts had wandered somewhere deeper for a moment before he came back to himself again. Longevity. Aer watched him for a second with that familiar, thoughtful softness in her eyes before answering.
“That part is… probably true,” she said gently. “El Aurian traits have a habit of sticking around whether anyone asks them to or not. So yes, they may end up seeing more of the centuries than most people do.” Her smile returned, smaller now but warm. “But that doesn’t mean they’ll experience life the way I do. They’ll grow up Human in a lot of ways first. Your pace, your instincts, your way of looking at things.”
She shifted slightly on the sofa, settling more comfortably while his hands continued their work at her feet. The tension in her shoulders had begun to ease now, the long day finally loosening its grip.
“And honestly,” she added, glancing down at him with quiet affection, “I’m glad they’ll have that. Humans have some very good traits when they’re done well. Determination. Curiosity. The ability to throw themselves into life without overthinking the length of it.” Her lips curved just a little more as her gaze softened on him. “And if they inherit some of yours in particular… they’ll do just fine.”
Her fingers drifted once more across the curve of her abdomen, thoughtful but content.
“They’ll get your stubbornness, for one thing. Your sense of responsibility. That instinct you have to stand between trouble and everyone else without even thinking about it. Those are good things to grow up with.” Her eyes lifted to his again, warmth lingering there. “And if George the Ninth ends up with your ability to find humour in the middle of chaos, the centuries probably won’t feel nearly as long as you think they might.”
"Oh he is a Patton, George the ninth will lead from the front and speak without filter whether someone wants it or not." Jack laughed at the thought of his ancestors personality emerging in his son. Then he turned to Aer with a warm smile. "There is something else that I have read and learned. Not only have I read this in some of the studies of El Aurian hybrids. But, if you remember your Uncle Thorrin. He told me how he does not contact his children through the centuries. He further said that was standard among your people. Just promise me that long after I am gone, you remain their mother without question. No matter how old they are."
Aer’s smile lingered for a moment after his laugh, warm and easy as she listened to him describe the future personality of George the Ninth with such certainty. She could almost see it herself now, a boy with Jack’s stubborn jaw and that Patton tendency to charge headfirst into the world whether it was ready or not.
But when Jack’s tone shifted again, when he mentioned Thorrin and the quiet promise he asked for, the humour faded from her expression. Not sharply, not in disagreement, but in that thoughtful way she had when something touched on the deeper parts of who she was.
She studied him for a moment before answering, her fingers still resting lightly over the curve of her abdomen.
“Thorrin does believe that,” she said gently. “And for him it’s probably true. He’s… very much of the old guard. El Aurians who lived through the long eras before the Borg, before the Exodus, when our people could afford to drift in and out of each other’s lives across centuries without thinking about what might be lost in between.”
Her voice softened a little as she continued, not defensive, just explaining.
“But things changed after El Auria fell. We lost too many people, too much history, too many voices. Family became… heavier after that. More important.” She let out a quiet breath. “You’ve met my father. If distance through centuries was truly standard practice, he’d have spared me a great deal of commentary over the years.”
A faint smile tugged at the corner of her mouth at that thought.
“My mother still writes. My siblings still argue with each other across subspace channels like no time has passed at all. We may live a long time, Jack, but that doesn’t mean we stop being a family.”
She shifted slightly on the sofa, leaning toward him a little more, her gaze steady and warm.
“So you don’t need to ask me to promise that,” she said quietly. “I’m their mother. That doesn’t expire when they turn fifty… or a hundred… or three hundred. If they’re still around, I will be too. Still worrying about them, still arguing with them, still showing up when they least expect it.”
Her hand slid down to rest over his where it worked at her foot, squeezing gently.
“And besides,” she added with a soft hint of teasing returning to her voice, “if George the Ninth really does inherit the full Patton personality, someone’s going to need to stay around long enough to keep him from conquering a small star system out of sheer enthusiasm.”
"I will have to create a holographic version of myself that has my personality. One that can keep the kids on their toes for all eternity." Jack wiped his eyes in the way that men do to disguise the idea that they are crying. The very thought of his family outliving him by centuries, burned him emotionally. But, that was something he signed up for when he married Aer.
Aer’s face changed the moment he said it.
Not because of the joke itself, but because she felt the grief tucked underneath it, the old human ache of time and endings and being left behind by the people you love. Usually she kept firmer walls around herself, enough separation to stop other people’s emotions from settling too deeply under her skin. Tonight, though, she was tired, overfull, raw in all the places pregnancy had already worn thin. His sadness reached her before she could brace for it, and it hit hard.
Her eyes filled almost at once.
“Oh, Jack…” The words came out soft and broken around a breath that wavered more than she wanted it to. She shifted toward him without thinking, awkward and immediate, reaching for him with both hands as if closeness alone could stop that thought from hurting him. “Don’t do that. Don’t make yourself into a ghost before you’ve even lived it.”
By the time she touched his face, her own tears had already slipped free. She laughed once through them, helplessly, because it was ridiculous and unfair and so unbearably him to try and wrap that kind of fear in dry humour and call it manageable. Her thumbs brushed at the corners of his eyes, then his cheek, and she leaned forward until her forehead rested against his.
“You are not going to be some programme they visit when they miss you,” she whispered. “You are going to be their father. Completely, inconveniently, gloriously real. For as long as you are here, and long after. They’ll carry you anyway, whether either of us likes the thought of it or not.”
She drew in a shaky breath, one hand dropping to cover his where it still rested against her foot, the other staying at his cheek as if she couldn’t quite bear to let go. “And yes, one day they may have years you don’t. I know that hurts. I know.” Her voice cracked on the last word because now the sadness was hers too, threaded through with love and hormones and the terrible tenderness of imagining any future without him in it. “But that doesn’t make what you give them smaller. It makes it rarer. It makes it precious.”
She kissed him then, not passionately, not even gracefully, just with all the messy devotion she had in her. When she pulled back she was still crying, and there was no elegance left in it at all.
“So no holograms,” she murmured, trying for firmness and only half managing it. “No synthetic versions of your personality haunting our children for eternity. They’ll have enough trouble surviving the original.”
Jack sat and relished in the moment. The man who could never be his truest self, because of duty, because of need, could be as vulnerable as he needed in the presence of this woman. Whenever he sat with Aer it was as if the suit he wore, the one called BlackJack Patton hung on the hook by the door. What was left was a soul laid bare. There was not a part of him that did not love this woman, and the life that grew within her. As the tears rolled down his cheek, and her thumb traced them away all he could do was whisper. "I love you."
Aer let out the smallest, shakiest laugh at that, though it dissolved almost immediately into another soft tearful breath. Her forehead stayed against his, her hand still cupping his face as if she could hold him there, hold this there, and keep the rest of the universe outside the room for just a little while longer.
“I know,” she whispered back, and the words were full of feeling, full of certainty, full of all the quiet things she was never as good at saying when the world was watching. Her thumb swept once more over the dampness at his cheek, then she smiled through her own tears, tired and glowing and completely his. “I love you too. More than is sensible. More than is probably safe.”
She shifted closer, as much as her aching body and swollen middle would let her, and rested his hand against the curve of her stomach as if to tether him there too. “And they will know you,” she murmured, voice softening into something almost reverent. “Not as a shadow. Not as a story. As you. In every stubborn, impossible, wonderful part of them that turns out like their father.”
For a long moment she said nothing else, just stayed with him in the hush of their quarters, letting the station hum around them and the future wait a little longer outside the door. Then, with a wet little smile that finally steadied, she kissed him again and whispered, “Now come here, Colonel Patton. I think your wife needs to steal the rest of your evening.”
Colonel Jack 'BlackJack' Patton
Commanding Officer, The Kingsmen
Executive Officer, Faltan Station
Lt. Commander Aer Feshau-Patton
Chief Intelligence Officer, Faltan Station
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