I have a rational explanation for why I am writing a fanfic about a series that is no longer on...I loved it. And I just bought the second season and it inspired me!
So, the premise of this is what if T'Pol had left Enterprise? How would that have affected things in the Delphic Expanse? How would that have affected Trip? Would they still have gotten together? Or...at least they do here...sometime...alrighty...slightly, or rather more than slightly, AU...but goes completely AU around Proving Ground...where shocking things will happen...this is going a bit episode by episode until then...so be patient...SMOOCHES!
A/N: REVISED TO BE MORE CANON! At the advice of Bucky over at House of Tucker, I'm revising the story. I mean major. I knew I would have to revise, but I've decided to do it earlier...like NOW! Tell me what you guys think of T'Pol. I really had to work on her. I've got Trip down, but Polly is tricky.
T'Pol walked slowly down one of the many halls of her childhood home and wondered once again what had motivated the Vulcan High Command to order her off Enterprise. There had been no apparent logical reason. To T'Pol, it seemed most illogical to remove a primary department head from a starship about to undergo a serious mission. There was a very great chance that the crew would need the calming influence of her presence. Indeed, it was most likely that her colleagues would need her more than they ever had before.
In the last several months, the interactions between the crew had become obviously stressed. None more so than that of Commander Tucker and Captain Archer. T'Pol had born witness to the "cogenitor" incident and while not finding fault in Captain Archer's assessment and punishment, T'Pol could understand that the Commander had felt compelled to act. T'Pol would not have interfered in another culture the way Commander Tucker had, however. T'Pol paused in her trek towards the eating area of the house. It was plausible to think that Commander Tucker might act out of emotions in the Expanse and perhaps cause harm to himself and others. Before she had been ordered off the ship, T'Pol had noticed alarming changes in the Commander's personality. Such drastic changes, in fact, that T'Pol had almost been inclined to discuss it with him. She had never made the time to, however, and now Enterprise was long gone.
T'Pol started down the hall again and thought of her good-byes with the crew. Ensign Sato had hugged her, and while T'Pol had not fully reciprocated the woman's friendship, Ensign Sato had given her a "goodbye gift." It was a book of pictures of Ensign Sato's home country. Sato had explained, "You never got to see the best part of Earth, so I want to give it to you." T'Pol had felt inordinately...humbled by the gift.
The others who had come down to the cargo bay to wish her goodbye had given her similar things. The Captain had given her a copy of "Moby Dick" in a crude paperback casing with an ill-drawn whale on the front, promising her that she'd enjoy it, which T'Pol doubted highly. Lieutenant Reed had given T'Pol a book as well, this time one of the history of England, his home country. He too had explained that he wanted T'Pol to know of what he considered the most beautiful but "sometimes bloody dreary" place on Earth. T'Pol had found it interesting that both Ensign Sato and Lieutenant Reed had given her gifts of similar topic.
It was Ensign Mayweather's gift that T'Pol had enjoyed receiving most. It was a crudely made framed picture, showing the primary crew standing on the stairs the day Enterprise had been launched. Most of them stood close, Captain Archer with his arm around Commander Tucker, Ensign Sato and MAyweather laughing about something that Lieutenant Reed had said. T'Pol was standing slightly aloft and separate from them, and the picture reminded T'Pol of the situation at hand. T'Pol boarded the shuttlepod and refused to acknowledge a niggling thought. He had not come to say goodbye.
"T'Pol?"
"Yes, mother?" T'Pol asked moving through the eating area and into the kitchen.
"Are you well?"
T'Pol turned slowly around and cocked her head a bit to the side. "Yes. Why do you ask?"
"You seem...restless." T'Mir studied her daughter in a vaguely disapproving manner.
T'Pol decided that a little confession would ease her mother's mind. In later years, her mother had seemed so much older than she and it disconcerted T'Pol to realize that her mother was nearing the end of her life. "If I am disturbing you, I apologize. I will meditate longer tonight and perhaps tomorrow."
"I don't think that will help. Would you like to speak of it?"
T'Pol thought for a moment as she moved around the kitchen, preparing a bowl of plomeek soup. Finally, she spoke. "I do not...fit."
T'Mir's face softened. "You have not reacclimated to Vulcan. In a few days, you will find a rhythm to your life again and your schedule will settle."
"If I were still on Enterprise, there would be no reason for me to reacclimate," T'Pol stated.
"T'Pol. Do not question your superiors. They are doing what is correct in the situation. We cannot condone the humans going into hostile territory with the mission of stop the threat. Humans are violent. Their mission dangerous. They have already proven to the High Command that they are incapable of controlling themselves. It is not likely they will return from the Delphic Expanse."
T'Pol sat down at the table with her plomeek soup and studied her mother as over the table top. "More reason that I should have continued to serve on their ship. They will need a calm voice in that situation."
T'Mir reached out as if to pat her daughter's hand but stopped before touching. "The situation cannot be remedied. They have continued on and you are here. You must adapt and move on."
T'Pol watched her mother leave the room and continued to sip her soup. She was trying. If only her mother knew how hard T'Pol was trying.
Fifty lightyears away, Trip was angry. Not that this was unusual. Even before the Xindi attack, he had had trouble with his temper. A particular Vulcan lady had always managed to make it spike and then make it go away. She was gone and the engineering crew was regretting that fact greatly. It used to be amusing to watch the Commander and the Sub-commander go at it, him yelling, her calmly arguing back. Now though, it was scary. Since the Commander's sister had been killed, he had been vicious. Once they entered the Expanse, he had become worse. Now he was practically livid constantly. Nothing was ever good enough for the Commander now, and everything and everyone in Engineering was beginning to show signs of cracking.
At the moment, Commander Tucker was yelling at Rostov about a misaligned power couplet. No one was even quite sure why he was so upset. The power couplet had been in a no longer used storage facility that was being revamped to more crew quarters. They weren't even occupied yet. The Commander had been doing a surprise check and had found the misalignment and basically gone nuts.
"Someone could have died, Lieutenant! That power couplet would have overloaded during an attack, and bam! One of your friends is all over the wall! Do you want that Rostov!"
"No, sir!"
"Do I make myself understood to you...no, TO EVERYONE! That there will be no more mistakes in this department!"
A chorus rang up in response. "YESSIR!"
"Good! Get back to work!" Trip stormed into his office, silently wishing that Starfleet still used swinging doors so that he could slam it. He could not, though, so he settled for slamming around his office.
After ten minutes of that, he finally sat down and threw his arms over his head to block out the light. He had a migraine, a stomach ache (probably due to the fact that he hadn't eaten in several days), and was in a bad mood. It wasn't even the Delphic Expanse or the freaky anomalies causing havoc...he hadn't said good bye. She was completely gone from the ship and his life and he hadn't even made the effort to tell her good bye; hadn't made the time to even see her. Just like Lizzy.
Before these past couple of months, he would have been cool with her leaving. He always had the captain to talk to, but after what happened with the Vissians, he and the captain had kind of become estranged with each other. They no longer ate dinner together; in fact, when they didn't have to, they barely spoke. Sometimes the captain would try to be friendly, but that was before the Xindi attack and after that nothing had been the same.
Of course, there was Malcolm, the only other person on the ship he considered a close friend, but Trip didn't want to talk to Mal. Don't get him wrong though! Malcolm was a good friend, but there were some things you can't discuss with the man. T'Pol had become his closest confidante...and then she abandoned him in his greatest hour of need.
The comm. beeped underneath his head and startled Trip out of the light doze he'd unwittingly entered. "Yeah?" He asked groggily after pushing a few random buttons.
"Commander Tucker? I would like to request your presence here in sickbay for a few minutes," Phlox's grinning voice boomed out, practically bringing sunshine and happiness with it...which Trip's sourness wiped out with grunt.
"What for?"
"Physical. All crew is required."
"I'm a little busy, doc. How about later?"
"How about now," Phlox said in a firm voice that brokered no resistance but still conveyed the good ole doctor happiness.
"Yeah, sure. I ain't got nothin' better to do considerin' that I'm the chief engineer on the ship that s'posed to save humanity and all."
"Good, see you in a few minutes."
Three weeks after returning to Vulcan, T'Pol moved out of her mother's home. With her father deceased, her mother preoccupied with work, and herself adjusting to life back on her homeworld, T'Pol had made the logical decision to seek her own space, where she could finally experience living alone. T'Pol had never done such a thing, having gone from home to school to the Embassy and straight into service with the High Command. Not once had she ever been given the privilege of having her own space, and her own things.
As T'Pol returned to the small flat she had decided to rent she fought the urge to call her mother and inform her of the abysmal circumstances she was in. It seemed her reputation had spread and most of the Vulcans she worked with were loath to come near, fearing that humanity's taint would spread. T'Pol did not understand how an intelligent, logical being could react with such hostility to new things. Had Vulcans not learned anything from their predecessors? If you shun new ideas, they only take root in the dark soil of secrecy and soon reach their strong arms for the sky. By forbidding something, you only encourage it to spread and grow.
T'Pol removed the thick, steadfast robes required of her and silently lamented for her old uniform, the one she'd worn on Enterprise. With the heat of Vulcan and the combination of the robes, just moving was a struggle for T'Pol. Not only that, but the air on Vulcan was lighter than it was on Enterprise, sometimes leaving the petite Vulcan lightheaded when she moved too fast.
Sinking into the thickly-cushioned lounge chair (one of few luxuries T'Pol allowed herself from her childhood home) T'Pol went through her electronic messages. She had three. One from her mother, and one from The Vulcan Science Directorate reminding her of a staff meeting tomorrow (apparently spending time with humans makes a Vulcan forgetful, or so the administration believes as they seem to send her a reminder for every little thing). The last message was from Kos. He did not say what he wished to speak of, but informed her that he would call on her the following day.
T'Pol played the message again and pondered what he wished to speak of. Did he want to reinitiate their betrothal? Skip the betrothal all together and be mated? Or did he want to annul the betrothal? Any of those was an option and the only options. She had nothing else with which to speak with him about. Why did he wish to see her now? Why had he waited so long to contact her?
T'Pol wanted to be able to discuss the situation with someone, but the only person she might even think of discussing it with was her mother, who believed that T'Pol had been illogical by not marrying Kos. T'Pol sat back and stared out the side window at the setting sun. It burned bright red and gold. It was aesthetically pleasing if you were into that sort of thing. As T'Pol had once told Commander Tucker, pleasing to the eye does not mean as much as pleasing to the mind.
Commander Tucker. T'Pol looked at her monitor. It was not implausible for her to contact him. He was one of the few people who knew the situation between her and Kos. He would help her discern why Kos was calling on her.
T'Pol used the Vulcan automated switchboard to connect with the Starfleet switchboard and requested a connection with Enterprise. The operator recognized T'Pol and did as the beautiful woman asked. As she waited for the connection to be made T'Pol studied her mirror image in the now blank screen. At her mother suggestion, T'Pol had allowed her hair to grow out. T'Mir believed that a change in appearance would help impress on T'Pol that she was among her own people now and must act accordingly. T'Pol, at first, believed this to be an illogical idea. How would it help her readjust to society if she was allowing her hair to grow beyond regulation length for a Science Officer?
When Ensign Sato's pre-recorded voice came on and brought her attention back to the matter at hand, T'Pol entered a set of numbers and waited while the other end of the connection "rang". For several minutes nothing happened and T'Pol was on the verge of disconnecting when Commander Tucker answered.
"Yeah?" He asked surly, dripping wet having just gotten out of the shower.
"Commander?"
"T'Pol?" He asked stunned, setting his bare ass (it was a pretty small towel he grabbed) on his seat before jumping back up at the cold sensation. "Hold on!" He scrambled out of the camera's scope and threw on a pair of pajama bottoms. "Why are you calling me?" He asked while putting them on, not noticing how rude he sounded.
"If you'd prefer I not, I can disconnect-..."
"No! I'm just curious," Trip hurriedly explained as he sat back down in the chair in front of his desk and studied T'Pol. It has been four weeks since the last time he'd saw her and he was...calmed...just by the sight of her. How had he ever thought that he disliked this woman? She was his best friend. He missed her. "I missed you. No one else argues like you."
"You've been arguing?"
"Yes, often. My people have become sloppy, and I'm tryin' to get 'em back up to standard. Though, now that you mention it, Ensign Trolli did cry."
"Maybe you should choose your words more carefully. It is not your goal to cause your subordinates to weep. It is your goal to impress upon them the importance of their job and not making mistakes."
Trip burst out laughing for the first time in weeks. It was so good to be talking to a friend without restraints again. "Yeah, and maybe taking more showers would help, too. Where you at?"
T'Pol shifted in her seat. "Vulcan."
"How's the weather?"
"It is 40 degrees Celsius and a humidity of fifty percent."
"Yeah...perfect 25 degrees Celsius here. Bet you miss it, right?"
"I miss Porthos more."
Trip laughed again and started to make a smart-alacky remark but was interrupted by the door comm. beeping. "Hold on."
T'Pol watched as the Commander rose from his seat (giving her a bird's eye view of his amazing stomach muscles) and moved out of screen. From off-screen he suddenly shouted, "Goddamnit Phlox!" and caused T'Pol to jump. She could hear the vague rumblings of an argument then the Commander came back on-screen, a food tray in hand. He set it on the table and glared at it. Since he seemed to forget she was there, she asked, "What is that?"
"Food tray. 'Parently I need to eat more. Or so Phlox says."
T'Pol studied Trip and agreed with Phlox's diagnosis. Trip had bags under his eyes and was almost gaunt looking in his face. She'd seen his stomach up close and that too was getting thin. "You look emaciated."
"Well, thank you very much. That really helps."
"Eat."
"I'll wait 'til we're done talkin', thanks," he replied sarcastically, leaning back in his chair nonchalantly.
"I don't believe you. Eat now," T'Pol said with something to an order in her eyes.
"Would I be immature enough to-..."
"I still have a higher rank than you, Commander. Eat."
"Fine!" Trip said sulking and pulling the tray to him. Meat loaf, mash potatoes, and baby carrots with peach pie for dessert. Yummy. Trip shoveled food into his mouth and before long found that he did have an appetite. He went through all the food in minutes and was savoring the dessert when T'Pol moved and garnered his attention. "Happy?"
"I am satisfied that you have sufficiently eaten."
Trip thought for a minute and grinned. "Yeah...I was a bit hungry."
T'Pol nodded.
"Tha's nice. You call me up and-...hey, why did you call?"
"I wanted to speak with you about a private matter."
Trip leaned forward suggestively and wiggled his eyebrows. "Talk away."
"I'd prefer it if you would take this matter more seriously."
Trip sat back and studied T'Pol. "Yeah, sure."
T'Pol arched an eyebrow. "How do I know you're going to be serious?"
Trip pouted. "Is this the face of a liar?"
T'Pol raised an eyebrow.
Trip ignored her implication. "What do you wanna talk about?"
"I am...having trouble discerning the motivations of a certain person in my life."
"Who?"
"Kos."
"What's that scumbag want?"
"He is not a 'scumbag', Commander."
"Tried to make you marry him with force, didn' he?"
"Ha had every right to remind me of my duties," T'Pol reprimanded the Commander. He shrugged.
"What does he want?"
"I do not know. He has set up a meeting tomorrow but has not informed me of what he wishes to speak about."
"Probably wants you to marry him," Trip said snidely, not quite sure why the thought bothered him. Here he was, talking to T'Pol after a month and all he could do was start fights.
"I believe it has something to do with that."
"What do you want him to talk to you about?"
T'Pol considered. "I do not believe it would be logical for us to reinitiate our betrothal. Over two years have passed and any legal hold he had on me through that has lapsed."
Trip smiled. "So the big bad wolf can't get ya?"
T'Pol raised her eyebrow. "The big bad wolf?"
Trip leaned forward and finished off the tea on his tray. "Yeah. Kids story. Don't you got those on Vulcan?"
"Yes."
Trip had a sudden idea to keep T'Pol on the line longer. "Tell me a story."
T'Pol cocked her head. "A story?"
"Yeah. Call it an early birthday gift."
"Your 'birthday' was three months ago."
"A really, really early birthday gift."
"What kind of story?"
"A fairy tale."
"I don't-..."
"Make one up."
T'Pol thought for a moment and instead decided to tell the story of Lovil, a heroine of her childhood. "Approximately two hundred Earth years ago, there was a priestess of Mount Seleya named Lovil. Historic accounts say that she was quite aesthetically pleasing, but being destined to be a priestess she was not bound to anyone. When her temple was destroyed by a Romulan destroyer, she decided to leave the religious way and become a scientist. Because of this, she was suddenly sought as a mate by many powerful and influential males of the time. She would not have any of them, however, and decided to continue her abstinence. She never mated and inevitably died from the Pon Farr."
Trip stared at T'Pol in a disconcerting way. "That was a fairy tale."
"I suppose. It often inspired me as a child."
"Which part?"
"She defied tradition and remained mateless."
"Her dyin' alone inspired you?"
"It does."
"Okay," Trip said, yawning, though not falsely. T'Pol could tell that he was tired, as humans were ill-equiped to hide their emotions.
"You should sleep."
"Yeah, that's what Phlox says."
"I will contact Captain Archer for news of the mission."
"T'Pol? You'll call back won' you?" Trip asked, his eyes already drooping as he leaned back in his chair.
T'Pol thought it over. It was not a logical idea. If she did, the basis for doing so would be firmly in the emotional category. Unless, as she planned, all they talked about was the ship's health. If that was what they spoke of then it would not be illogical at all. It is perfectly reasonable that a former colleague would contact another for advice on how to handle the stressful situation unfolding in deep space on the ship. T'Pol knew that if anyone, though as unlikely it seemed, tried to make something inappropriate out of her and Trip contacting each other, it would come to no fruition. T'Pol had nothing to hide.
"Yes. Tomorrow," T'Pol replied.
"Good. Sweet dreams, darlin'."
T'Pol waited until the screen was blank before replying. "Sweet dreams, Commander."
Okay, so that was the first chapter! YAY! MORE TO COME! REVIEWS WELCOME! FYI...I'm modifying most of Season 3 epis to suit my story but I'm afraid Carpenter Street is not going to be used...too difficult what with it being an Archer/T'Pol story...let's just say that I already have the story mapped out up until Proving Ground and the updates will come fast!