Miscommunication

A/N: All Vulcan terminology courtesy of the Vulcan Language Institute


Disclaimer: Paramount owns all. I'm just borrowing.

Chapter 1

Trip took another deep breath and exhaled slowly, hoping that it didn't sound too much like a sigh. He opened his eyelids slightly to peek at his meditation partner. She sat like a statue. Obviously the candles and the cross-legged pose were working for her. He, on the other hand, was sweating profusely, and his knees were crying out in protest. How long had they been sitting here? He closed his eyes and tried to focus.

When T'Pol had invited him to meditate with her, he had been ecstatic. Trip knew Vulcans took their meditation seriously, so the fact that she had been willing to share the experience with him seemed tantamount to a declaration of love. He hadn't expected it to be more like a torture session.

They were currently performing the Tal t'li, the first meditation of adult training, according to T'Pol. Maybe he should have asked her to start him off on kiddie meditation. Were there training wheels for meditation?

There oughta be, Trip thought sourly. What, exactly, was he supposed to be getting out of this? He knew that meditation helped Vulcans to suppress their emotions, but he didn't want to suppress his emotions. So what was the point? Maybe this was the Vulcan version of the chick flick—something the guy had to endure in order to get on his girl's good side.

This thought sent his brain off on another tangent: Was T'Pol his girl? Damned if he knew.

Trip peeked at her again. God, she was gorgeous. Her skin glowed like bronze in the candlelight. That pouty lower lip was just begging to be nibbled. The way her breasts rose and fell as she breathed deeply—

Get a grip, Tucker! he chided himself. You're here to support your friend, not to get your groove on. Trip shut his eyes tightly, taking another deep breath. But he couldn't refrain from peeking at her one more time. He let his breath out slowly as his eyes traveled down her body.

Commander, you will never master the Tal t'li if you continue to stare at me rather than finding your focus. T'Pol's voice startled Trip out of his anatomical appreciation. His eyes jerked guiltily back up to meet hers.

Uh-oh, Trip thought. She was giving him The Stare.

He shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny. Sorry, T'Pol. It's just real hard for me to sit like this for so long. Maybe I need to start out with something a little easier.

The Stare did not abate. The Tal t'li is the most basic level of Vulcan mediation. There is nothing easier.

Does it always go on for so long, though? Shouldn't you start people off with shortened sessions? Trip asked hopefully.

I had intended to limit this session to thirty minutes for just that reason, Commander, T'Pol replied. At his puzzled look, she continued. We have been meditating for less than twenty minutes.

Trip's jaw dropped in disbelief. Only twenty minutes? Feels like we've been sittin' here for hours!

This was apparently not the appropriate response. Perhaps I erred in asking you to participate, T'Pol stated as she stood swiftly and began to move about her quarters, blowing out the candles.

Trip leaped to his feet to assure her that this was not so, only to stumble about the room. His feet had fallen asleep! No, T'Pol! I'm honored that you asked me to—dammit! Trip hopped from one foot to the other, attempting to restore circulation. Sorry! It's just that I've never done anything like this. I probably need lots of practice before I can get it right.

T'Pol turned to face him after blowing out the last candle. He shifted his weight back and forth, trying to get rid of the pins and needles in his feet and simultaneously convince her of his sincerity.

She seemed to reconsider. It is true that Vulcans begin studying meditation techniques as young children. It would be illogical to expect a human to master the discipline without a great deal of practice. She continued to ponder this thought, sitting back down on her meditation cushion as she did so.

Trip followed her lead, relieved. For some reason, however, being granted a stay of execution did nothing to inhibit his tendency to speak without first engaging his brain.

T'Pol, why did you ask me to meditate with you, anyway? he blurted. I mean, it seems like something that would be easier to do when you're alone. She turned her eyes on him again. Not quite The Stare, but close. He felt his face redden.

Way to go, jackass, he railed at himself. She's given you a golden opportunity to spend time with her, and you act like you don't want to be here! I meant...I just...meditation seems like it would be easier to do without another person here to distract you.

T'Pol dropped her eyes, considering his words. What you say is true. However, it is not unusual for Vulcans to meditate with family...or...t'hai'lu. Often, having another person present can increase one's ability to focus.

She looked back up at Trip, who was puzzling over the unfamiliar word.

T'hai'lu. It is a Vulcan term.

Yeah, I kinda figured it wasn't Klingon, Trip responded with a wry grin. It doesn't mean dumbass,' does it? His grin faded as she gave him The Stare again. Uh, sorry. Shuttin' up.

He looked at the ground between them to avoid The Stare. The silence went on for several uncomfortable seconds. T'Pol seemed to be composing her reply carefully. A t'hai'la is...a trusted friend, she stated finally.

Trip blinked. She considered him a trusted friend! That had to be a good thing! He beamed at her, glowing with the gift she had given him.

he hemmed, not knowing exactly how to respond. I...thanks! I'm honored! I consider you a...a thel'a, too.

His return compliment did not go over as well as he had hoped. T'Pol frowned at his words. she stated ominously.





Isn't that what I said? Trip asked, flustered.

T'Pol's facial expression never changed, but Trip knew a scowl even when he couldn't see it. You distinctly said

I take it that's not the same thing?

Now T'Pol's invisible expression suggested distaste. T'hai'la means good friend.' Thel'a means...fat.

Uh-oh, Trip thought for the second time in less than five minutes. Um, maybe I should go now, he stammered.

T'Pol gave him the Raised Eyebrow of Death. Yes, I believe that would be best. She paused. You have a great deal to practice.