The Man in Her Life
Chapter 9
To Diminish
By Penmom
(1)
Author's Notes -- Sequel to A Woman in His Life
(2) I have
climbed out from underneath a statistics textbook to bring this to
you! And yes, I will try to make this a little longer. It depends on
how long my youngest son will watch Jimmy Neutron!
What T'Pol said - Now that was a thought.
What with all the runnin' around and the make over, he'd not really given any thought to the fact that in order to pull their plan off, he was not only going to have to look the part, he was going to have to act the part.
He'd have to give it to her, she was right. He was going to need her help to make it work.
T'Pol's beautiful face beamed with satisfaction - she had him. She was right. Being right was always such a turn-on for his lovely wife that he actually didn't mind bein' wrong nearly as much as he made out. Unconsciously mimicking her arched bow with one of his own, he urged her to continue.
"Once more, there is a Vulcan practice that allows for one Vulcan to aid another in maintaining emotional discipline. It would be prudent for us to partake of this practice prior to beginning our journey."
Without conscious thought, he straightens his posture to one that has become familiar in the passing months. Assuming that they will connect, he makes to slide his hands across her temples. A large part of him relishes entering her in this way.
Her hands come up to grasp his own and bring them back to his lap.
Her voice is a bit more clinical than he has experienced in quite awhile. He immediately picks up that she is trying very hard to do this procedure correctly. This is something that she wishes to do well but it is something that she has never done personally. He again straightens and gives her a look that seems to project his acquiescence. Her own posture relaxes by a fraction as she reads his consent.
When she speaks again, it reminds him of a swimming lesson from childhood. It is as if she is patiently but thoroughly explaining a stroke before taking him out into deeper water. After she explains the details of the stroke, she then explains that it will feel unfamiliar at first but he is not to panic that she will be there to support him. His first instinct is to reassure her that he would follow her anywhere but he can tell that this is not the time for conversation.
"You may close your eyes. The recipient of the support is largely passive during this exercise."
Something in his expression pushes her to provide further information. "The more relaxed your mind, the more effective the support."
And with that, Trip's eyes close.
For several long seconds, she cannot continue with her task. Seeing him as such is simply too distracting in and of itself. Throughout their afternoon and evening, she has covertly avoided looking at him directly. Trip as a Vulcan. It is simply the most unsettling sight that she has ever encountered. She shutters slightly before focusing herself further. She cannot let her own misgivings and emotions diminish her ability to carry out this procedure.
Her fingers take their place on his brows, gently tracing their newfound slant before she can stop herself. He draws in a quick breath before settling back into a more meditative state. Something about his open expression there before her, despite the Vulcan countenance - causes her to pull back abruptly. She had thought to do this without fanfare and hand wringing but she finds she cannot.
Her hands go to his shoulders and provide him with a rousing shake. "Trip, Trip, before I --- before we continue, I wish to be more specific about this process."
Still shaky from coming out from a meditative state with zero preparation, he shakes his head as if to clear any cobwebs lurking about. He raises a hand to his tousled hair as he stifles a yawn. "Shoot."
She looks at him through the fringe of her lashes. "This procedure that I am proposing, as I said it is customarily performed when an elder Vulcan can no longer maintain his or her emotions. In a way, it actually works to diminish or blunt the emotions that the individual encounters."
Again finding himself faced with her half-formed worries, he cups her face in his hands, "Honey, I trust you. Ya' know that. Just spit whatever is bothering you out. I'd like to get on with this so we can have a little time to ourselves that's not focused on this blasted mission, if it's all the same to you."
Drawing a deep breath, she looks him in the eye. "I wanted to make you aware that you will most likely encounter blunted emotions as long as we maintain this connection. It will allow you to react in a manner more befitting an adult Vulcan male such as your 'Dr. Tok'. "
"I figured as much and ---?" He prompts her.
Her eyes are wet with unshed tears when she faces him, "I find that I am encountering a high degree of anxiety at the prospect of taking away your emotions." A single wet tear graces her cheek as she tries to explain. "It seems that I have taken too much from you already."
He quickly gathers her in his arms smoothing her lightened hair. "Darlin', it's OK. It's only for a few weeks at the most and let's face it, I seriously doubt that you could 'diminish' my hot head as much as you think! Come on' do your worst, we've got what's left of the night ahead of us."
Soon they are back where they were prior to T'Pol's guilty conscious. Her fingers resume their place on his beloved forehead and she says the familiar words to initiate the meld.
"My mind to your
mind, your mind to my mind."
She fights her natural
instinct to simply sink into his thoughts, his emotions, everything
that he is and disciplines herself to focus in on his emotional locus
of control. She envisions creating a metaphorical wall around his
emotions, taking them further and further away from his
consciousness. As she focuses her metaphysical energy into the
process, she feels a shift in the topography of his mind - almost a
leveling off. As she retreats, she maintains a thread of contact so
that she can continue to feed the wall that she has built for him. In
time, he could learn to maintain such a wall himself but there is not
time and she reminds herself, there is no need.
&&&&&&&&
As always, he feels her withdrawal from him. Cerebrally, he knows that he usually feels her loss so keenly that is something akin to suddenly losing a limb but this time it feels like he is watching a movie of her leaving him. He is feeling, sensing - his brain is getting the information it always does but it's like he's in a glass box or something to that effect.
He opens his eyes and finds her staring at him, obviously concerned, worried over the whole matter. He understands this, understands who she is to him - all of the facts, the memories are there - but that heart stopping feeling in his chest - it's missing. He thinks to himself - ahh, this is what she was concerned about. How can he be Trip without that almost physical emotion and a million other ones?
&&&&&&&&
"Are you well? Trip, speak to me."
"I'm fine, just takin' it all in."
His voice seems almost flat to her ears. She thinks to herself that she should not have done this and almost immediately goes to cut the link but then it occurs to her that this is the very effect that she desired.
He knows her well. He sees her agitation. He does not want her to feel badly. He reaches out to her again, this time pulling her into his lap. The contact soothes her. He feels satisfied with himself that he can calm her but he acknowledges the difference - the distance. It is just as she said.
A thought comes to him. "Is it? Is it like this for you? Always?" He wouldn't be able to even ask this without her magic, the question would crush him otherwise.
She speaks from the bend of his shoulder. "Once perhaps, it is a state that my people, my culture seeks - Solot'raan. It means the removal of emotion. It is a revered state."
"And now?" he presses.
"I do not find it to be favorable. You have shown me a new way. There are many things in the universe that cannot be truly evaluated with the mind alone."
He shifts her, taking her in his arms as he stands. "I want to make love to you." He says simply as he places her on the bed. He quickly follows her down and immediately makes a place for himself between her thighs.
He props himself up on his elbows as his fingertips deliberately trace over the sensitive tips of her ears. He watches her closely as her eyes dilate to become fathomless black pools. As he begins to rub himself against her in time with his wicked fingertips, her eyes close and she arches into him providing him with waves of much welcome pressure.
Part of him briefly wonders at the fact that he has never been able to focus so sharply on the physical sensations she brings him, the emotions have always taken an upper hand, pushing him on to completion. Now, he thinks - now he can have the upper hand in a more deliberate way.
Trip dispenses with their garments with almost businesslike movements and before T'Pol can catch his intention, her legs are hanging over the side on the bed and he is kneeling before her. His assault is so devastating that she can't mourn what she has lost for the sake of her damned Vulcan mission.
TBC
