Telluride
Author: John O./Elessar
Rating: PG
Genre: AU/Romance/Adventure
Disclaimer: Paramount owns Star Trek characters/names/fans' souls/etc. I call shenanigans.
Archive: Please ask.
Pairing: Not exactly T/T', but not exactly 'not'.
AN: I wrote this story about two years ago so I invite any questions, comments, reviews or complaints
2 KM South of Teakettle Mountain Peak, Colorado
Tucker's Cabin
It was dark when T'Pol and young Jack Tucker hobbled through the heavy oak door. The floor paneling was similar in construction, thick and firm, clearly built of a similar hardwood to that which T'Pol noted was growing naturally in the deciduous forests surrounding the area. That reminded her of the immediacy of her plight: she must discover her location, how she got there, and how to get back to Enterprise.
He guided her to a cushioned armchair and helped her to sit down. As she did, she felt a stiff object in her side pocket jab into her hip. My communicator, she thought.
From the door, the wood-furnished cabin appeared as mostly one large room, with an upper-level loft area that held a bed, and sections of the main room divided off as a kitchen and a fireplace facing the armchair. The loft was a main bedroom, but there was also a smaller room off to the side, apparently Jack's. Having deduced that she must be on Earth, T'Pol also deduced that she could only have been sent backwards in time by Daniels' escaped alien. It was logical since Daniels and those from his century claimed to possess the technology for time travel. Though she did not initially believe his claims, her location would suggest she was in error.
Identifying the precise era could prove to be difficult. The surroundings were rustic, even archaic by 22nd century Earth standards, but the area was also rural and isolated – suggesting it could be at a low technological level despite advancement in the more densely populated regions. In any case, she decided it would be prudent to conceal the communicator.
Tucker turned and broke T'Pol's reverie as he lit a kerosene lantern in the center of the room, carrying it as he moved about through the darkness. With it, he lit candles on the walls in various places, illuminating the cabin. She thought of inquiring about electricity, but held her tongue for fear of suggesting what may not have been invented yet.
"We'll get a fire goin' an' then figure out'cher leg. How 'bout that?" he asked kindly. T'Pol merely nodded while he moved about, playing host to this strangely clad woman. He piled a handful of logs into a firestone brick hearth from a tall stack of freshly cut wood near the door. T'Pol found herself admiring the simple yet obviously hand-built architecture of the cabin, with its tall ceilings and heavy wood; it was clearly of sturdy construction. As her eyes wandered, her rigid face relaxed in a questioning expression, as the young Tucker found himself admiring the woman's soft features and deep-seeking eyes.
"My great granddad built this house back 'round the turn of the century with his dad. Since then, my uncle's lived here. But when he died, my daddy moved up 'ere and me with 'em to take care of the place," Tucker told her.
"I am sorry for your loss," she told him, nodding.
"Ah, s'alright," he shrugged. "Me an' Uncle Charles weren't all that close. I didn't see him very often when I was growin' up."
"You dwell here with your father?" T'Pol asked, concerned about having to explain herself to not one, but two pre-warp humans. Tucker ground a flint against the inside of the hearth and sparked a batch of kindling until a tiny ember began to twinkle and hiss with a trail of smoke emanating from it.
"My daddy took the truck back home to Texas to take care of his momma. She came down with the shakes a few months back and doctors say it's gettin' worse. So it's just me and the silver spoons for the winter," he shook his head. T'Pol took mental notes as he spoke. Truck, suggested an internal combustion automobile, she was certain.
"Silver spoons?" T'Pol asked, curiously.
"Ah, rich kids up 'ere skiing. Ya know they just opened that lodge up 'ere…" he began, pointing towards the south. He dropped a hand to his denim-covered knee and met T'Pol's eyes, turning away from the fire he had been tending. T'Pol's eye followed hand briefly as it came down and noted the powerful look of his knees stretching against the material of his jeans. His legs were equally strong and filled out. Though a boy in the face, he was clearly full grown.
"Nah I 'spose you wouldn't know, you said you're not from 'round here didn't ya?" T'Pol nodded. She expected he would next ask what she was doing out in the woods alone, without the party she claimed to be with, but he didn't.
"Well, see I came up 'ere with my daddy to work the cabin back into shape but, wouldn't you know it, by time we get things back in order, a big ole' blizzard hits and shuts us in. Kids come 'round for miles on 'er daddy's tabs ta' go skiin' down some real slopes, I guess. Next thing I know, I'm stuck in this town servin' beers, and choppin' wood." He turned from the stoked fire, its yellow tongues licking warmth into the air as T'Pol sat across the room in the large armchair. She shivered involuntarily as a chill tickled up her spine.
"Oh, beg your pardon. Let me find you a blanket. I 'spose it's mighty cold up around here for foreigners. Would you like somethin' to drink? I'm afraid all I can offer's water, beer, and hard cider," he made his way to a small icebox.
"Cider?" she asked.
"It's juice, made from apples," he told her, unaware of her ignorance of the modifier 'hard'.
"Cider, please," she answered.
From the kitchen he asked the question she hadn't yet prepared to answer.
"Where did you say you're from?" he asked T'Pol.
As she formulated a response, he climbed a broad, wooden stepladder to the loft. He returned with a thick, heavy woolen blanket with a dark plaid pattern. He brought it to her, holding it over her with a smile while a beer bottle hung at his side between two fingers of his other hand.
"Thank you," she accepted it with a slight nod but her stoic Vulcan demeanor refused to allow her lips to curl. He handed her a cold glass of apple cider as she curled the blanket around the edges of her Vulcan feet, feeling an unwelcome draft trickle across the floor. She naturally felt the urge to curl her feet up into the chair underneath her, where they were warmer.
He returned to his seat at the foot of the glowing red hearth, leaning against the warm brick. He sighed, dropping the black Stetson from his head onto the brick and removing the light brown leather jacket. When his head of light blonde, slightly curled locks were revealed, T'Pol again wondered at the likeness between this man and the chief engineer she knew. His hair was longer, and curled at the tips. When he turned back on her, she quickly ad-libbed a plausible response to his question.
"I have traveled from Europe. I am here visiting your country," she answered, correctly assuming from his drawl and accent that she must be somewhere in the country formerly known as the United States.
"Well, I 'spose that figures," he told her with a wry smirk. When she cocked an eyebrow, he shifted nervously to explain.
"Well you just don't seem much like the kinda' folk around here. You're kinda' different," he told her. "Well, don't get me wrong, it's very nice to have visitors," he quickly amended, putting his hands up. She moved her eyes from him to avoid the nervous shiver running down her spine, busying herself with wrapping the thick wool blanket around her legs and midsection.
"I-I mean your clothes look different and all," he indicated towards her dark brown- and green-patterned attire. She realized for the first time she was still wearing her Vulcan uniform.
"Not-not in any bad way, a'course. I 'magine I look pretty silly to you folks, from different countries. It's all in the way you look at things, a'course," he nodded nervously to himself, trying to shut up. He glowed slightly pink, thinking he had made a fool of himself. T'Pol, however, was impressed with the wisdom in his words, simplistically put as they were.
"Yes, it is the style where I come from. It also helps me keep warm in the cold climates that I am unused to," she fibbed, but only slightly. Tucker nodded.
"And you don't sound anything like folks around here, you speak a lot more sophisticated," he complimented her. She nodded her appreciation before indulging her curiosity.
"What do you do here with your father?"
"Well most a' the time it's just loggin' and servin' booze," he drawled with disappointment in his voice. "It's not so bad, I guess. It's just not what I had in mind when my pop told me we'd be comin' up to 'sit Uncle's cabin for a few months when I was eighteen," he told her, sipping his beer. She hadn't understood half of what just came out of his mouth, but decided not to request a clarification for fear that he might begin to suspect she was not just from Europe.
"How long ago was that?" she asked, attempting to narrow down his age while she curiously eyed the strong young man — very clinically, of course. Had she taken a tip from Commander Tucker's interrogative methods?
"Bout three years this winter," he shook his head. T'Pol fingered the glass as she curled up tighter into the chair, feeling her insides warming to the liquid as it pooled in her stomach and set about a frivolous chain of biochemical events.
"You do not enjoy it here? It seems quite peaceful," she offered, loosening her reticence.
"Oh, it's beautiful country and I don't mind the early work on the trees up 'ere on the mountain, but..." T'Pol quirked an eyebrow curiously and Jack leaned back against the brick.
"Well, we were only 'sposed to be here a short period a' time. It sounds silly but," he started with reddish cheeks, turning his eyes down at his glass sheepishly. "I kinda' wanted to go ta' school down in Texas. My pop said I was just thinkin' nonsense, though."
"He is incorrect," T'Pol responded firmly through the recalcitrance of the sharp and tasty cider she sipped through her full lips. Tucker tipped the half-empty bottle back and then looked up at T'Pol curiously.
"It is logical to pursue your interests and conducive to a successful life to seek an education," T'Pol asserted. Jack laughed and downed the last drops of his glass.
"Yeah, tell that to my old man. He don't think a man's a man unless he works with his hands," he groaned, clearly reciting an all-too-familiar mantra of his father's.
"That is an illogical assertion."
"No kiddin'," he replied.
"If you disagree with him, why then do not you leave and pursue your education?" T'Pol asked. A knot in her belly suddenly tightened as she was reminded of one incorrigible Charles Tucker berating her over the same inaction.
"I don't know, I 'spose I just feel like I should take care of him. When my momma died few years back he didn't handle it so well. Started hittin' the bottle a little more 'an usual," he told her in a low voice. "A little too much," he emphasized, tipping his own bottle.
"I am sorry, I didn't kn—"
"No, no, Tipol it's alright. I guess I just feel like he needs me around more than b'fore," he interrupted. There was an uncomfortable silence as T'Pol found herself searching her words and hoping she had not made some unintended imprudence. "But with my grandma sick, I just don't see a time when..."
"What do you wish to study in school?" she found herself asking.
"I always wanted to look at the stars, ya' know like astronomers do. I know it sounds silly, and I had to quit school early, but I've always, ya know... been curious about it. I got a'hold of a book once, an astronomy book," he beamed. "You know there could be other planets out there just like this one with people?" he asked with a wild grin, shaking his head. T'Pol replied with a long gaze.
"Do you still have this book?" T'Pol asked.
"No, 'fraid not," he recalled sadly. "When pop was packin' our things to move he found it and said it wasn't worth takin' with us," he went on. T'Pol slowly blinked her silent condolences. Tucker broke a broad smile a second later, to which she replied with a high eyebrow.
"But," he said, sitting up away from the hearth. He dropped his drink to the brick and disappeared into his room. A few moments later he reappeared with a thick book wrapped in brown paper.
"A few months ago when my pop was away takin' care of business in Texas, I rode down into town and sent away for this," he told her, unwrapping the brown paper, not without a touch of reverence. Jack came to the side of T'Pol's armchair and knelt down, opening the book for her to see.
"Burnham's Celestial Handbook: An Observer's Guide to the Universe Beyond the Solar System, " she read the title with an elevated eyebrow and flipped open the cover. "This material is advanced for a novice," she observed, scanning the pages.
"Yeah, I've been havin' a little trouble with some of it, p'ticularly the math, but there's plenty of explanations. I've been readin' it," he pointed at a feather sticking out about a quarter of the way through the book.
"I see," T'Pol replied, skipping to that page. "I am quite proficient in mathematics. Perhaps you would like some assistance?" T'Pol offered.
"Oh, oh no that's not necessary Tipol, you don't need to go to all that trouble," Jack started, rubbing the back of his neck.
"If your interest is sincere, I would certainly be willing to help you," she replied.
"Oh yeah, hell yeah!" he replied with his native colloquialism. "I mean yes, I'm very sincere," he cleared his throat. There was a long beat of silence, and suddenly Jack realized he was still kneeling beside the armchair, matching T'Pol's gaze. He started, jumped up, and returned the book to the backroom. Soon he was back.
"I know there's gotta' be more out there than I know about. That's the one thing that keeps me goin' out 'ere when I'm loggin' all day or working all day in town: thinkin' about the things out there that I can't even imagine. Sometimes, I pull a few cords up in the early morning so I can hike up to the summit of Teakettle Peak an' just look at the stars. I take campin' gear with me, just disappear from the old man for a few days," he reminisced.
T'Pol listened attentively, curiously nursing the last drops of the tangy apple cider. Jack woke from his own reverie and spied her empty glass.
"It's gettin' kinda late, I 'spose I oughta take my leave of ya," he began. But T'Pol shifted in her chair and her eyes took a plunge from the safe confines of the floor into his eyes, and he offered her another option.
"Unless… you'd like another?"
"Please," she responded, holding her glass up for him. He took it, grinning as he leaned down to pluck the glass from her bronze fingers.
"So what do you do, Tipol, back where you come from?" Jack asked as he eased himself against the warm hearth, having retrieved the pair of them yet another round. The night hours were piling on and Jack's eyes were drooping slightly, but T'Pol's were as wide as ever.
"I am a scientist. I too, am fascinated by the stars," she told him.
"Really, well ain't that somethin? Hell, I bet you could tell me all kinds a' things about the stars an' planets and name every constellation in the sky," he chuckled, knocking back his glass.
"Indeed. What would you like to know?"
"Well, hell," Tucker said as he grinned, turning his eyes skyward towards the dark planks in the ceiling.
"I can't answer that in here, we'd have to be lookin' at the stars!" he said flirtatiously.
"Perhaps we should go outside to observe the stars, then," she countered expertly, forgetting the temperature.
"It's too cold out, you crazy?" he returned, laughing as he drunkenly sat up and nearly tipped his drink.
"On the contrary, I believe you are the one who is intoxicated," she countered with a quip in her tone, the corners of her lips threatening to turn.
"Hey I'm not the only one, you're flushin' you know! Only you look a little green, are you feelin' alright?" he asked with concern. She looked down curiously at her fourth empty glass as the realization hit her that the contents were affecting her behavior.
"I am well, however, I think I will accept your earlier invitation to retire to bed for the evening," she replied, setting her empty glass on the large area rug that covered the hardwood floor beneath her feet. He nodded and rose with gentlemanly intent as he held out his arm.
"I am quite capable of walking myself to bed," she countered, brushing past his arm with an unsure step. She corrected, but found herself floundering for a moment as her motor skills failed. She turned to find Tucker smirking and crossing the distance towards her with raised eyebrows.
"I can tell," he laughed, nearly evoking the tiniest of smiles upon her lips. He straightened as he came to her side and resumed his assistance.
"Mr. Tucker would it be—"
"Please, call me Jack," he asked her. She nodded, blinking through the memory of Trip's same request.
"Jack," she experimented, looking up from her petite stature into his rugged but boyish face. "Would it be possible to arrange transport to the nearest city, tomorrow?" she asked. Reality came rushing back to him and for an instant and Jack frowned in dismay. He quickly cleared his throat.
"Well, Telluride's only 'bout ten miles down Camp Bird Trail. The bar I work at in town's there, but Telluride's a pretty small town. Denver's a good three hundred miles, if you're lookin' for a real big city," he told her. She was unsure what she was in fact looking for, but knew only there was no chance of finding her way back to Enterprise out here in the forest.
T'Pol recognized the name of the city of Denver from passing conversation with her human shipmates. She believed it was on the North American continent, which she had already inferred of her location, and in the mountainous area of the Southwest, which would also match her observations of the area. She was also quite sure that the city was destroyed in the humans' third world war, and since Jack had expressed no concern for radiation exposure, she deduced that she must be on Earth prior to the nuclear holocaust of 2053.
Although she did not know the year, she was certain it was pre-warp and thus no human had ever seen a Vulcan, and she could not contaminate the culture. Thus she must continue to keep her identity secret.
"I'm afraid, though, my dad's got the truck and the only transportation I can offer you's by horseback," he told her. "I can take you to the Rio Grand Railroad Station in Telluride, t'morrow morning, if you like," Jack said, hesitantly.
"Thank you for your offer," T'Pol told him. She illogically dwelt upon the last part, if you like, and realized it was not, at this moment, what she would like.
"The bed up 'ere is more comfortable, 'cause my dad's got a bad back and his mattress is feathered an' all 'at fancy stuff," he told her in a slurred drawl.
"My bed," he pointed in the direction of an unlit room to the side of the ladder leading to the loft. "Is in there, so you can sleep up 'ere on the loft for t'night, 'till I can figure out how to get rid a' you t'morrow," he joked, grinning through a pair of sky blue eyes.
"Thank you, Jack," she said, her voice lower and quieter than before. The syllable lingered on her tongue as she did in front of him, his heavy head hanging above her as his insides swooned with the dry scent of some literally unearthly aroma as it wafted up from T'Pol's hair and into his nostrils. An instant before he was about to take the dive and pull her to him, she evaporated from his grasp, and began to climb the ladder to the loft.
"Good night, Tipol."
"Good night, Jack," she told him, chancing only a momentary glance over her shoulder, climbing the ladder against temptation.
