Title: Family Affairs
Authors: Sita/ T'eyla
Genre: Angst/Romance
Rating: PG (for language)
Summary: When Enterprise is in Earth's orbit for a few days of shore leave, Trip, T'Pol and their newborn son go to visit Trip's parents. While on Earth they have to face the hostility and prejudices still existent in the human society of the 22nd century.
Disclaimer: Paramount owns Enterprise, we're not making any money from this.
Chapter 2: Pregnancy
Trip took a big cup of black coffee out of the resequencer and put it down on his otherwise quite empty tray. Turning around he looked for an empty table, but as usual at breakfast time the mess hall was crowded. His eyes fell on Hoshi sitting alone at a table over at the window. She looked up and waved, signalising him to join her.
"Morning, Hoshi," he mumbled, setting his tray on the table and plonking down in an empty chair.
"Something wrong?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.
"I'm fine," he sighed. It's only that I've been sharing quarters with a pregnant Vulcan for three months now, he added in thought. But of course you don't know anything about that and I'm certainly not going to tell you now. He took a big gulp of his coffee. Hoshi eyed him slightly concerned.
"Where's T'Pol?" she asked.
"She's...er... not feeling well this morning."
"Ah," Hoshi said knowingly. "Of course."
Trip gave her a questioning look.
"What month?" she asked smiling.
Trip frowned. "October, why?"
Hoshi rolled her eyes.
"I know. That's not what I meant."
"Oh," he said. Then his eyes widened with realization. "Oh!" He cleared his throat. "What gave you the idea?"
"I have eyes and ears, Trip. It's kind of obvious. To a woman, at least," she added as an afterthought. Trip sighed.
"So did you tell Malcolm yet?"
"What did she tell me?" Malcolm sat his tray down on the table. Defeated Trip slumped back in his chair. Hoshi grinned.
"Trip's going to be a father!"
"What. You?" Malcolm sat down, giving Trip a dumbfounded look. Trip slid down even further in his chair, trying to disappear under the table.
Hoshi chuckled. "Well, it happens when people are married."
Malcolm blushed. "I know that. It just... took me by surprise."
Hoshi turned back to Trip.
"So, how long have you known?"
"Three months," Trip murmured, not looking at her.
"What, three months?!" Hoshi exclaimed. "Why didn't you *tell* us?"
Trip got up.
"T'Pol didn't want me to. I have to get down to engineering, so if you will excuse me..." He grabbed his coffee and fled from the mess hall.
"Poor Trip." Hoshi laughed.
"He'll understand," Malcolm said. "After all he's been pregnant, too."
Hoshi smiled and they turned back to their breakfast.
-###-
"The effects of pregnancy on Vulcan women are similar to the typical symptoms and behaviour patterns human women will show." Dr Phlox sounded as enthusiastic as he always did, but Trip thought he had heard a slightly amused undertone in the Denobulan doctor's voice. It's not funny, he retorted in thought, but said nothing. The doctor smiled innocently and continued.
"There are, however, a few important differences. While human women do experience an increased need to take food, it is nothing compared to what Vulcan women go through during the ten months of their pregnancy. Caused by certain hormones they experience a feeling as if they were starving to death unless they are able to keep up a more or less uninterrupted consumation of food. In Vulcan's ancient past, resources were sparse and pregnant women had the choice between fighting for every scrap of food they could get or losing their child because of lack of nutrition. So the body found a way of reminding the mother-to-be that there was an unborn child she had to take care of. In our modern times the mother's determination to obtain all the food she can get sometimes leads to certain... disagreements between her and the persons she lives with."
Trip sighed. "Tell me about it, Doc."
-###-
The temperature in the Captain's dining room had been increased so it would be comfortable for a Vulcan, but that was not the reason Trip was sweating. He picked at his plate of meatloaf, carefully avoiding to look at Jon. Gone were the times when the three of them had used dinner to have extended conversations, to discuss their mission or just to chat about everyday life on Enterprise. Now there was no time to talk anymore. T'Pol was eating and eating and eating, while Jon and Trip tried to grab some of the food before T'Pol got hold of it. Trip had never noticed how fast she could eat. He'd lost four pounds in the last twelve weeks.
Trip heard Jon make a strange noise between a cough and a snort and finally raised his eyes. There were four plates standing in front of T'Pol. One was filled with some spicy, dangerous-looking Vulcan vegetable and a neat stack of pancakes with maple syrup. On another plate there was a huge pizza with extra cheese and - Trips stomach gave a lurch - covered in french fries. Half of the pizza was gone already. One of the other two bowls contained plomeek soup of quite a strange colour. Trip noticed the ketchup bottle standing next to the soup bowl and swallowed. T'Pol however took no notice of the two men staring at her. She was currently engaged in the act of dipping celery sticks in strawberry marmalade and mustard and saw nothing except her food. Trip hoped desperately that she would have finished at least that horrible pizza and the ketchup-plomeek when the steward came in again.
Jon cleared his throat.
"So did you finish the sensor updates you were working on with Malcolm?" he asked T'Pol in a brave attempt at conversation. T'Pol in the meantime had finished the celery sticks and moved on to the pizza, cutting it into neat slices and soaking them in plomeek soup. There was no sign that she had heard Archer's question at all. Under the table, Trip nudged her with his foot.
T'Pol looked up.
"Why are you kicking me, Charles?" she asked through a mouthful of plomeek pizza. Trip looked pointedly at the Captain, but she didn't notice. She had seen the plate of pecan pie standing next to Trip's meatloaf. Calmly she reached over the table and plunged her fork dripping with ketchup deep into the pie. Shoving the pecan pie into her mouth she took another slice of pizza and drowned it in the mustard. Trip stared at his pecan pie covered in ketchup and resignedly pushed the plate over the table towards T'Pol.
"You can have it if you want, honey."
"Thank you, Charles," she said, letting the pie follow the pizza. Archer downed half his glass of water to quell the laughter bubbling up his throat. Trip shot him a glare.
"I might find it funny too if I still had my pie," he mumbled sourly. Archer coughed, putting his glass down.
"You can have half of mine," he said.
Trip shook his head. "I don't think so."
Archer looked down. The only thing left of his pecan pie was an empty plate and a few crumbs. Trip kept his eyes fixed on his meatloaf, a blush creeping up his cheeks. Archer got up.
"I have to... go to the bridge. Trip, Subcommander..." He rushed out, trying and failing to keep his laughter under control. The door swished shut behind him and Trip sighed.
"That was the fourth time."
Between a piece of pecan pie and a spoonful of plomeek soup T'Pol raised an eyebrow at him.
"What are you referring to?"
"You know perfectly well what I'm referring to. That was the fourth time you stole the Captain's dessert. The fourth time this week. It's getting to be a little embarassing, you know."
With a last swig of soup she finished her meal and looked up.
"He had had enough, and I was still hungry. It was the logical course of action. If you will excuse me now, Charles, I will go and see what the crew had for dinner." She left the room and Trip buried his face in his hands. A few minutes later the door swished open.
"Is she gone?" Archer asked. Trip groaned.
"There is no food left in here; no point in staying, is there? Sorry about your pie."
"I'll live." Archer grinned. "No harm in losing a few pounds, you know."
Miserably, Trip looked up at his friend.
"I can't take it any longer, really I can't! Do you know what she did yesterday? First I couldn't find her anywhere. Then I went looking in the mess hall and there she was, of course. On the way out we passed Travis who was eating a sandwich..."
Archer tried to keep a straight face. "And then?"
"She took it! She snatched it right from under his nose and left, and I was standing there having to apologize while the whole mess hall went into a laughing fit. It was so embarassing! I've heard that the science lab staff hide their food before she comes for her shift. Remember that huge bar of chocolate Hoshi gave me for my birthday? It was gone in five minutes. When I asked her to share it, she said she needed it and couldn't afford to give me any. It is absolutely no use arguing with her. That woman drives me crazy!"
Archer sat down on the chair next to Trip.
"Dr Phlox said it's normal. Remember how you felt when you were...er..."
Trip gave him an indignant look.
"I didn't steal other people's food!"
Archer bit his lip. "That's true. But it can only get better, can't it?"
Trip grimaced. "Can't it?"
-###-
"Another aspect of the Vulcan mother's protective instinct is the increased hostility towards her environment.You may have noticed already, Commander."
Trip shot Phlox a dirty look, but the doctor went on undeterred.
"While human women usually show similar symptoms, the aggression of the Vulcan women is especially directed towards men. The reason for this fact is unknown, but we can assume that it has something to do with Vulcan's violent past. There is no actual physical danger because of the high level of emotional control today's Vulcans have reached. Nevertheless I would recommend a certain... caution when interacting with the mother."
Trip massaged his temples. "Thanks for the warning."
-###-
Archer leaned back on his bed and opened his book. It had been quite a stressful day and he was glad to have some time for himself. Porthos hopped on the bed and snuggled in the crook of Archer's arm.
"Hey, old boy!" Archer scratched Porthos behind the ears. "Been feeling lonely, have you." Porthos curled up in his arms and Archer concentrated on his reading.
Few minutes later the doorsignal chimed. Archer sighed and put his book down.
"Come," he said. The door swished open and revealed his science officer.
"Subcommander," he said, slightly surprised. "Is there something I can do for you?"
"Indeed, Captain." T'Pol entered his quarters.
She looks tired, Archer thought. T'Pol's face was paler than usual, and there were dark circles under her eyes. It was hard to believe but she seemed to have lost weight. Only her belly had grown, and her uniform was fitting tightly around her midrift. Archer motioned to the chair at his desk.
"Please, sit down."
As usual, she took place on the edge of the seat. She put down a padd on the desk in front of her and fixed Archer with a piercing look.
"I have come here to inform you about some serious shortcomings in protocol which have come to my attention in the last few weeks."
Archer set Porthos down.
"Really? What problems have you noticed, Subcommander?"
She checked her padd.
"First of all, I believe that not everybody on this ship is working at peak performance. The efficiency quotient has decreased from 96.78 % last month to 95.14 % according to the last approximation two days ago."
"Oh. Did it?" Archer tried to look appropriately concerned.
"I believe I just said so." An icy undertone crept into T'Pol's voice.
"Further I assume that efficiency could be improved by putting a stop to the so-called 'chatting' and 'small talk' on duty, especially on the bridge. While off-duty I do not think it appropriate to engage in excessive shouting and laughing in the public areas of the ship, for example the mess hall. Sometimes the noise level is unbearable. Speaking of the mess hall, I do not approve of the great amount of meat served there. Additionally- "
"Whoa, stop there." Archer held up his hands. "I know it must be hard for you sometimes, but this is just part of everyday life on a ship with a human crew. See, maybe you're just tired and a little stressed out. It's been a long day for all of us. You know what I do when I feel really beat? I take a good hot shower- "
"Speaking of that," T'Pol interrupted him, raising one eyebrow, "I do think that there should be Starfleet regulations on the topic of -"
The doorbell chimed and Archer was glad to be spared an answer to what would have undoubtedly been her next objection.
"Come in," he said, turning his head. In the doorway stood Trip, looking slightly dishevelled and out of breath. He noticed T'Pol sitting at Archer's desk and his eyes widened in dismay.
"You didn't, did you?" Without waiting for an answer he strode over to the desk and picked up her padd. "I told you to get rid of that! Really, honey, this is nothing short of ridiculous. I thought we agreed on dropping that subject!"
"Trip!" Archer got up and put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "It's ok, no harm done." He looked down at T'Pol. "Maybe you both want to go to your quarters now, get a good night's sleep and we'll talk tomorrow."
"Very well." T'Pol got up and without looking at either of them, she left. Trip wanted to go after her, but Archer caught him by the arm.
"Don't be mad at her. She didn't mean it, she's just a little beside herself."
Trip gave him a long look, nodded and stepped out into the hallway. T'Pol was standing at the end of the corridor waiting for the turbolift. She had her back to him and didn't turn as he came closer. For a moment he thought she was crying, but no, of course not. T'Pol didn't cry. He put an arm around her waist and turned her around gently, but she wouldn't meet his eyes. There was absolutely no expression on her face, and still she looked so tired and defeated that Trip felt immediately guilty for yelling at her. He put his arms around her.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "Sometimes I say things I could kick myself for later." He reached down and put a hand on her belly. "You've only been there for six months and you're already tiring your mother out."
Finally she raised her eyes and there was a tiny smile on her lips.
"Let us go back to our quarters, Charles. I think it would be best to follow the Captain's advice and get some rest."
While they wandered through the dimly lit hallways, Trip thought of the letter from his parents which had come this morning. It had been full of questions about the baby and complaints that he didn't write more often. But the one thing that had stuck with him was the question why he wrote so little about his wife. 'We don't even know her name,' his mother had written. 'Is there something wrong?'
He could picture the familiar little frown on her face as she put down the words. Yes, he thought, there is something wrong, Mom, but not what you think. Your son's a damn coward, that's what's wrong. He knew that this was the point when he should finally tell her, that he should have told her long ago, but he knew just as well that he wouldn't. After all these months it was just impossible to find the right words to tell both his parents and T'Pol that he had lied to them for so long. He looked at her sideways and almost startled. In the shadowy corridor she looked even more alien than usual, the contrast of light and darkness outlining her features. Suddenly he felt the urge to put an arm around her. Pulling her close, he tried to shake off his feelings of guilt.
No, he thought defiantly. I know I found something good here and I won't let them take it away.
Authors: Sita/ T'eyla
Genre: Angst/Romance
Rating: PG (for language)
Summary: When Enterprise is in Earth's orbit for a few days of shore leave, Trip, T'Pol and their newborn son go to visit Trip's parents. While on Earth they have to face the hostility and prejudices still existent in the human society of the 22nd century.
Disclaimer: Paramount owns Enterprise, we're not making any money from this.
Chapter 2: Pregnancy
Trip took a big cup of black coffee out of the resequencer and put it down on his otherwise quite empty tray. Turning around he looked for an empty table, but as usual at breakfast time the mess hall was crowded. His eyes fell on Hoshi sitting alone at a table over at the window. She looked up and waved, signalising him to join her.
"Morning, Hoshi," he mumbled, setting his tray on the table and plonking down in an empty chair.
"Something wrong?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.
"I'm fine," he sighed. It's only that I've been sharing quarters with a pregnant Vulcan for three months now, he added in thought. But of course you don't know anything about that and I'm certainly not going to tell you now. He took a big gulp of his coffee. Hoshi eyed him slightly concerned.
"Where's T'Pol?" she asked.
"She's...er... not feeling well this morning."
"Ah," Hoshi said knowingly. "Of course."
Trip gave her a questioning look.
"What month?" she asked smiling.
Trip frowned. "October, why?"
Hoshi rolled her eyes.
"I know. That's not what I meant."
"Oh," he said. Then his eyes widened with realization. "Oh!" He cleared his throat. "What gave you the idea?"
"I have eyes and ears, Trip. It's kind of obvious. To a woman, at least," she added as an afterthought. Trip sighed.
"So did you tell Malcolm yet?"
"What did she tell me?" Malcolm sat his tray down on the table. Defeated Trip slumped back in his chair. Hoshi grinned.
"Trip's going to be a father!"
"What. You?" Malcolm sat down, giving Trip a dumbfounded look. Trip slid down even further in his chair, trying to disappear under the table.
Hoshi chuckled. "Well, it happens when people are married."
Malcolm blushed. "I know that. It just... took me by surprise."
Hoshi turned back to Trip.
"So, how long have you known?"
"Three months," Trip murmured, not looking at her.
"What, three months?!" Hoshi exclaimed. "Why didn't you *tell* us?"
Trip got up.
"T'Pol didn't want me to. I have to get down to engineering, so if you will excuse me..." He grabbed his coffee and fled from the mess hall.
"Poor Trip." Hoshi laughed.
"He'll understand," Malcolm said. "After all he's been pregnant, too."
Hoshi smiled and they turned back to their breakfast.
-###-
"The effects of pregnancy on Vulcan women are similar to the typical symptoms and behaviour patterns human women will show." Dr Phlox sounded as enthusiastic as he always did, but Trip thought he had heard a slightly amused undertone in the Denobulan doctor's voice. It's not funny, he retorted in thought, but said nothing. The doctor smiled innocently and continued.
"There are, however, a few important differences. While human women do experience an increased need to take food, it is nothing compared to what Vulcan women go through during the ten months of their pregnancy. Caused by certain hormones they experience a feeling as if they were starving to death unless they are able to keep up a more or less uninterrupted consumation of food. In Vulcan's ancient past, resources were sparse and pregnant women had the choice between fighting for every scrap of food they could get or losing their child because of lack of nutrition. So the body found a way of reminding the mother-to-be that there was an unborn child she had to take care of. In our modern times the mother's determination to obtain all the food she can get sometimes leads to certain... disagreements between her and the persons she lives with."
Trip sighed. "Tell me about it, Doc."
-###-
The temperature in the Captain's dining room had been increased so it would be comfortable for a Vulcan, but that was not the reason Trip was sweating. He picked at his plate of meatloaf, carefully avoiding to look at Jon. Gone were the times when the three of them had used dinner to have extended conversations, to discuss their mission or just to chat about everyday life on Enterprise. Now there was no time to talk anymore. T'Pol was eating and eating and eating, while Jon and Trip tried to grab some of the food before T'Pol got hold of it. Trip had never noticed how fast she could eat. He'd lost four pounds in the last twelve weeks.
Trip heard Jon make a strange noise between a cough and a snort and finally raised his eyes. There were four plates standing in front of T'Pol. One was filled with some spicy, dangerous-looking Vulcan vegetable and a neat stack of pancakes with maple syrup. On another plate there was a huge pizza with extra cheese and - Trips stomach gave a lurch - covered in french fries. Half of the pizza was gone already. One of the other two bowls contained plomeek soup of quite a strange colour. Trip noticed the ketchup bottle standing next to the soup bowl and swallowed. T'Pol however took no notice of the two men staring at her. She was currently engaged in the act of dipping celery sticks in strawberry marmalade and mustard and saw nothing except her food. Trip hoped desperately that she would have finished at least that horrible pizza and the ketchup-plomeek when the steward came in again.
Jon cleared his throat.
"So did you finish the sensor updates you were working on with Malcolm?" he asked T'Pol in a brave attempt at conversation. T'Pol in the meantime had finished the celery sticks and moved on to the pizza, cutting it into neat slices and soaking them in plomeek soup. There was no sign that she had heard Archer's question at all. Under the table, Trip nudged her with his foot.
T'Pol looked up.
"Why are you kicking me, Charles?" she asked through a mouthful of plomeek pizza. Trip looked pointedly at the Captain, but she didn't notice. She had seen the plate of pecan pie standing next to Trip's meatloaf. Calmly she reached over the table and plunged her fork dripping with ketchup deep into the pie. Shoving the pecan pie into her mouth she took another slice of pizza and drowned it in the mustard. Trip stared at his pecan pie covered in ketchup and resignedly pushed the plate over the table towards T'Pol.
"You can have it if you want, honey."
"Thank you, Charles," she said, letting the pie follow the pizza. Archer downed half his glass of water to quell the laughter bubbling up his throat. Trip shot him a glare.
"I might find it funny too if I still had my pie," he mumbled sourly. Archer coughed, putting his glass down.
"You can have half of mine," he said.
Trip shook his head. "I don't think so."
Archer looked down. The only thing left of his pecan pie was an empty plate and a few crumbs. Trip kept his eyes fixed on his meatloaf, a blush creeping up his cheeks. Archer got up.
"I have to... go to the bridge. Trip, Subcommander..." He rushed out, trying and failing to keep his laughter under control. The door swished shut behind him and Trip sighed.
"That was the fourth time."
Between a piece of pecan pie and a spoonful of plomeek soup T'Pol raised an eyebrow at him.
"What are you referring to?"
"You know perfectly well what I'm referring to. That was the fourth time you stole the Captain's dessert. The fourth time this week. It's getting to be a little embarassing, you know."
With a last swig of soup she finished her meal and looked up.
"He had had enough, and I was still hungry. It was the logical course of action. If you will excuse me now, Charles, I will go and see what the crew had for dinner." She left the room and Trip buried his face in his hands. A few minutes later the door swished open.
"Is she gone?" Archer asked. Trip groaned.
"There is no food left in here; no point in staying, is there? Sorry about your pie."
"I'll live." Archer grinned. "No harm in losing a few pounds, you know."
Miserably, Trip looked up at his friend.
"I can't take it any longer, really I can't! Do you know what she did yesterday? First I couldn't find her anywhere. Then I went looking in the mess hall and there she was, of course. On the way out we passed Travis who was eating a sandwich..."
Archer tried to keep a straight face. "And then?"
"She took it! She snatched it right from under his nose and left, and I was standing there having to apologize while the whole mess hall went into a laughing fit. It was so embarassing! I've heard that the science lab staff hide their food before she comes for her shift. Remember that huge bar of chocolate Hoshi gave me for my birthday? It was gone in five minutes. When I asked her to share it, she said she needed it and couldn't afford to give me any. It is absolutely no use arguing with her. That woman drives me crazy!"
Archer sat down on the chair next to Trip.
"Dr Phlox said it's normal. Remember how you felt when you were...er..."
Trip gave him an indignant look.
"I didn't steal other people's food!"
Archer bit his lip. "That's true. But it can only get better, can't it?"
Trip grimaced. "Can't it?"
-###-
"Another aspect of the Vulcan mother's protective instinct is the increased hostility towards her environment.You may have noticed already, Commander."
Trip shot Phlox a dirty look, but the doctor went on undeterred.
"While human women usually show similar symptoms, the aggression of the Vulcan women is especially directed towards men. The reason for this fact is unknown, but we can assume that it has something to do with Vulcan's violent past. There is no actual physical danger because of the high level of emotional control today's Vulcans have reached. Nevertheless I would recommend a certain... caution when interacting with the mother."
Trip massaged his temples. "Thanks for the warning."
-###-
Archer leaned back on his bed and opened his book. It had been quite a stressful day and he was glad to have some time for himself. Porthos hopped on the bed and snuggled in the crook of Archer's arm.
"Hey, old boy!" Archer scratched Porthos behind the ears. "Been feeling lonely, have you." Porthos curled up in his arms and Archer concentrated on his reading.
Few minutes later the doorsignal chimed. Archer sighed and put his book down.
"Come," he said. The door swished open and revealed his science officer.
"Subcommander," he said, slightly surprised. "Is there something I can do for you?"
"Indeed, Captain." T'Pol entered his quarters.
She looks tired, Archer thought. T'Pol's face was paler than usual, and there were dark circles under her eyes. It was hard to believe but she seemed to have lost weight. Only her belly had grown, and her uniform was fitting tightly around her midrift. Archer motioned to the chair at his desk.
"Please, sit down."
As usual, she took place on the edge of the seat. She put down a padd on the desk in front of her and fixed Archer with a piercing look.
"I have come here to inform you about some serious shortcomings in protocol which have come to my attention in the last few weeks."
Archer set Porthos down.
"Really? What problems have you noticed, Subcommander?"
She checked her padd.
"First of all, I believe that not everybody on this ship is working at peak performance. The efficiency quotient has decreased from 96.78 % last month to 95.14 % according to the last approximation two days ago."
"Oh. Did it?" Archer tried to look appropriately concerned.
"I believe I just said so." An icy undertone crept into T'Pol's voice.
"Further I assume that efficiency could be improved by putting a stop to the so-called 'chatting' and 'small talk' on duty, especially on the bridge. While off-duty I do not think it appropriate to engage in excessive shouting and laughing in the public areas of the ship, for example the mess hall. Sometimes the noise level is unbearable. Speaking of the mess hall, I do not approve of the great amount of meat served there. Additionally- "
"Whoa, stop there." Archer held up his hands. "I know it must be hard for you sometimes, but this is just part of everyday life on a ship with a human crew. See, maybe you're just tired and a little stressed out. It's been a long day for all of us. You know what I do when I feel really beat? I take a good hot shower- "
"Speaking of that," T'Pol interrupted him, raising one eyebrow, "I do think that there should be Starfleet regulations on the topic of -"
The doorbell chimed and Archer was glad to be spared an answer to what would have undoubtedly been her next objection.
"Come in," he said, turning his head. In the doorway stood Trip, looking slightly dishevelled and out of breath. He noticed T'Pol sitting at Archer's desk and his eyes widened in dismay.
"You didn't, did you?" Without waiting for an answer he strode over to the desk and picked up her padd. "I told you to get rid of that! Really, honey, this is nothing short of ridiculous. I thought we agreed on dropping that subject!"
"Trip!" Archer got up and put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "It's ok, no harm done." He looked down at T'Pol. "Maybe you both want to go to your quarters now, get a good night's sleep and we'll talk tomorrow."
"Very well." T'Pol got up and without looking at either of them, she left. Trip wanted to go after her, but Archer caught him by the arm.
"Don't be mad at her. She didn't mean it, she's just a little beside herself."
Trip gave him a long look, nodded and stepped out into the hallway. T'Pol was standing at the end of the corridor waiting for the turbolift. She had her back to him and didn't turn as he came closer. For a moment he thought she was crying, but no, of course not. T'Pol didn't cry. He put an arm around her waist and turned her around gently, but she wouldn't meet his eyes. There was absolutely no expression on her face, and still she looked so tired and defeated that Trip felt immediately guilty for yelling at her. He put his arms around her.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "Sometimes I say things I could kick myself for later." He reached down and put a hand on her belly. "You've only been there for six months and you're already tiring your mother out."
Finally she raised her eyes and there was a tiny smile on her lips.
"Let us go back to our quarters, Charles. I think it would be best to follow the Captain's advice and get some rest."
While they wandered through the dimly lit hallways, Trip thought of the letter from his parents which had come this morning. It had been full of questions about the baby and complaints that he didn't write more often. But the one thing that had stuck with him was the question why he wrote so little about his wife. 'We don't even know her name,' his mother had written. 'Is there something wrong?'
He could picture the familiar little frown on her face as she put down the words. Yes, he thought, there is something wrong, Mom, but not what you think. Your son's a damn coward, that's what's wrong. He knew that this was the point when he should finally tell her, that he should have told her long ago, but he knew just as well that he wouldn't. After all these months it was just impossible to find the right words to tell both his parents and T'Pol that he had lied to them for so long. He looked at her sideways and almost startled. In the shadowy corridor she looked even more alien than usual, the contrast of light and darkness outlining her features. Suddenly he felt the urge to put an arm around her. Pulling her close, he tried to shake off his feelings of guilt.
No, he thought defiantly. I know I found something good here and I won't let them take it away.
