After changing into light cotton pants and a bright, multicolored shirt Trip grabbed his camera and some dry rations and headed back towards the beach. He was looking forward to shooting this as much as Travis was looking forward to seeing the pictures. Trip was a sucker for a pretty sunset.

He meandered his way across the sand, still warm from the afternoon and dug a divot with his bare feet to sit in. The sun was sinking lower, an orange ball hanging just above the horizon. It painted the sky a brilliant array of reds, yellows, and pinks. Trip forgot about eating as he snapped photo after photo for Travis. He turned to look for T'Pol, wondering if she'd appreciate this as much as they did.

She was leaning against a tree, chewing something and looking lost in thought. T'Pol had changed into something that looked a lot to Trip like a very lightweight, airy, maroon karate uniform. He aimed his camera at her, zoomed in and snapped the picture. The sun's sinking rays bathed her in a crimsony-orange wash. He sat and watched her for a moment. She appeared to be almost glowing.

T'Pol seemed to suddenly snap out of whatever reverie she was in, turned her head and looked directly at Trip. He quickly turned back to the sunset, embarrassed at being caught looking. He brought his camera back up to his eye and resumed shooting. The sky was changing colors again, the sun now halfway swallowed by the ocean. The engineer hadn't been this relaxed in ages. Trip idly wondered if it was due to the new Vulcan techniques he learned that day or just being in paradise. Regardless of the cause, he loved it.

So engrossed he was in his own thoughts, Trip didn't hear T'Pol approach. Not until she accidentally kicked sand into his lap as she sat next to him did he look over at her. He smiled broadly.

"Gorgeous, ain't it?" he asked with a sweep of his arm. He was beaming.

"It is," she replied nodding. T'Pol gazed out to the water, wrapping her arms around her knees.

"Sunsets are like snowflakes," said Trip quietly, "no two are ever the same." He looked at her for affirmation. When she didn't respond, he leaned into her, nudging her with his shoulder. "Y'alright, T'Pol?"

The Vulcan glanced at him, seemingly startled. "Yes," she whispered. "I was just thinking. I apologize."

"You don't need t'apologize for thinkin'. Believe it or not, I do it all the time," Trip said with a smile. "Think, I mean. Though I guess I do my share of apologizin' too."

T'Pol gave him a nod, a smile not quite touching her lips. "It will be cooling off soon. Perhaps we should start a fire."

"Great," Trip sighed and leaned back in the sand, placing his hands behind his head. "You go get the firewood an' I'll wait here." He looked up at her and offered the most charming smile he could manage.

The Vulcan stood up and towered over him. She held out her hand and replied, "Perhaps you should accompany me. There may be native beasts unfamiliar with Vulcans. Your stench could keep it at bay." T'Pol cocked her head and waited. It didn't take long.

"Are we back to that again?" Trip asked dramatically. He grasped her hand and she yanked him to his feet. He held on fast, pulling her close. "Thought you didn't mind it so much anymore," he whispered into her ear.

"I didn't say I did," she replied, arching an eyebrow at him. "I said the native wildlife might."

"My mistake," he said graciously. Trip still had her hand and tugged her back towards the trees in search of combustible materials.



A small circle of rocks bordered a brightly burning fire. Much arguing had occurred over what type of wood would burn the best, what was too dry or too damp, followed by even more arguing about how to set the phase pistol to spark a flame. Nearly an hour later the Vulcan and the human sat quietly side by side, each lost in thought staring into the fire.

Her gaze drifted from the blaze before her to the man next to her. T'Pol watched as light and shadow played tag across his features. She admired the way his eyes glowed bright in the firelight, a soft smile twitched at his lips as he thought of something pleasant. He sucked in his bottom lip, chewing it for a moment. She noted the angle of his jaw, the line of his neck, idly wondering what her lips would feel like on them.

T'Pol looked quickly back to the fire, alarmed yet again by where her thoughts were taking her. As the flames danced and flickered, it triggered a vivid memory of a night spent in a jazz club. She'd tried in vain to let go of this, but it was to remain a part of her. She even thought about what it would be like to lose oneself in the beat, let the music wash through her.

"Penny for your thoughts," came a gentle voice to her left. It startled her as she jumped a bit. Trip reached a hand out and placed in on her forearm. T'Pol looked at him, his eyes warm and brilliant.

"I was just thinking," she said quietly.

"I can see that," replied Trip with a smile. "That's twice now you've had the gall to think." He tossed her a wink to show he was kidding.

"I was thinking about…" T'Pol began, and bowed her head. "Dancing."

Trip leaned into her to try and see her eyes. "Dancin'?" He let out a low, quiet whistle. Clearly this was news to him.

"Something you don't know, Commander, is that I have taken a liking to Earth music," T'Pol tried to explain. "Jazz in particular. I made a late night visit to a jazz club in San Francisco once. It has…remained with me."

Trip was openly gaping now, his mouth hung open. She reached up to his chin and closed it.

"You ever danced, T'Pol?"

She shook her head. It looked to him like a sad gesture. Trip stared for a moment and then got to his feet.

"Would you like to dance with me?" he asked gallantly, holding his hand out to her.

"There is no music here," T'Pol stated, looking up at him with confusion.

"Don't need any," he said simply. "I can't teach ya the fun stuff, but I can teach y'a little somethin'."

She took his hand and he pulled her to her feet.

"We're just gonna hafta slow dance this one t'night," Trip said softly. "We can do that without any music." He placed her left hand on his shoulder and grasped her right one in his. His left hand rested at her waist.

"Just gotta move your hips around a little, maybe shuffle your feet some," he instructed. "Can you feel what my hips are doin'? See how there ain't much goin' on? Just sway them around a bit."

T'Pol felt his hips against hers, moving in a circular motion. She tried not to think of the rest of him pressed against her. It was a very intimate method of dancing. She had not expected this. She tried to mimic him with her own body. It was very easy.

"What is the purpose of this? We are hardly moving," T'Pol finally spoke up.

"Guess that's kinda the point, T'Pol. Slow dancin' is…well, slow."

"But why?"

"I dunno," Trip sighed. He grasped her hands and placed them around his neck. His own hands casually swept up her arms, over her shoulders and down her ribcage. His fingers ever so slightly grazed the sides of her breasts as came to rest on her hips. Trip looked into her face. "Because sometimes it feels good to have someone to hold onto for a few minutes."

He tugged her closer and bent his head to hers, wrapping his arms around her. They swayed together in the gentle night breeze, neither of them saying another word.