A Woman in His Life
Chapter Thirteen - Dice with His Atoms
By Penmom
Author's Notes –- (1) Since this takes place beyond the present cannon - this is AU. (2) to Snow Queen – sure you inspire me too – I just have ADHD and leave out folks unintentionally – I lose my car keys all the time - I pride myself in NOT being one of those people who forget that their kids are in the car and leave them to bake in the sun all day. I do somehow manage to keep them healthy and reasonably happy. (3) As it is ALMOST Thanksgiving let me give my thanks to everybody who is continuing to read along - next chapter I intend to respond to some specific comments but today is just too busy and I didn't want to make you wait for this…
The walk back from the Captain's quarters is awkward to say the least. Neither speaks and both keep a companionable distance. There is an unspoken understanding, that one word --- one touch --- and well ---
They reach T'Pol's quarters before they make eye contact.
"Commander --- Charles --- Trip" she stumbles over his many names attempting to find the one that suits her tongue, all are equally awkward. Still, she understands that Trip would be his choice. "Trip, now that we have spoken to the Captain, I recommend that we speak privately. Ordinarily --- given the level of fatigue --- I ---"
Placing a hand on the small of her back, he interrupts, " 'nough said Darlin', after you."
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
With the door safely closed, both release breaths neither realized they were holding. She is exhausted and overwhelmed. He is too. She knows that he knows it, no reason to beat a dead horse. Hell, a couple times he could have sworn she would lose it.
The last two days and some odd hours have been such that he hasn't been able to spend much time really thinkin' about what is goin' on. Despite all the medical mumbo jumbo, he has no clue where in the devil he had come up with that Vulcan lingo. And past the words, it was the action itself - the meld - that's the real humdinger.
He was --- he had been --- she had been --- God, there were no words to adequately describe it. It was like he had been running his fingers through her soul, through everything she was. Hell, he had just kissed her. So why did it feel like --- he didn't know --- like it was way more than a kiss? If he had to guess, he would put money on that very moment – that's the one that played dice with his atoms – that one right there.
Too tired to even attempt to continue to maintain her usual stoic stance, she goes to sit on the edge of her bed, eyes open but unseeing. There is much to consider. The medical confirmation of her suspicions is staggering. There are too many questions, too many feelings to sort through them in an orderly fashion. Beyond the factual accounting of the phenomenon, she is keenly aware of an increased humming within her physical being.
Practically, she admits to herself that the longer she allows the increasing physical impulses to grow unchecked, the more difficult it will be to reason, to simply think. She must think, she must sort this out. But the hum in her blood is distracting. After leaving the Captain's Cabin, it took all of her carefully honed defenses to not --- to not act on her impulses. Even now, she fears that one brush with him will consume her in a most unbecoming way.
'OK, what to do or not to do?' He thinks as he watches her sit there, shoulders bent as if the weight of several worlds is pressing down on her delicate shoulders. If his brain is functioning so God damned better, then why for God's sake is he standin' here like a mute fool? His first impulse is to go to her, to touch her but if she wanted that, she woulda' said so. Still, she was not half as bold as he had once thought her. He knows this now.
He wishes he could know what she was thinkin' and suddenly remembers he pretty much can… Well, when in Rome…
It's a jumble that's for sure --- doubt, shame, worry, frustration, indecision, agitation. --- That's enough for sure, he is at her side in a moment, kneeling at her feet like a suitor from long ago. He meets her gaze and is shocked to encounter unshed tears waiting to fall.
With this simple connection, something seems to slide from her. She is suddenly on the floor with him, boneless in his arms. Lying in the protective circle of her arms, she opens her eyes and a sigh escapes her lips.
Touching her, holding her - everything in him compels him to seek her out as before. The last time, the last time, it felt like something had been left undone – what he didn't know but in this he is a salmon headin' in to spawn. He winces at his own analogy.
He raises his hand to her temple as before. This time her own hand slides up his face, this time she is ready. He gazes into her eyes. Even before he speaks the ritual words, he is flying. He is falling back into her at a dizzying speed. Like fingers interweaving as hands clasp so go their souls.
Again through memories – oh to stop at each – and then sensations – tactile memories – tastes – sounds – colors. Then, he is suddenly hyper aware of his own body. He is hot, heavy with arousal, his blood cries to take her. His eyes open abruptly to find hers open as well.
His mouth begins a slow descent to hers when he sees that the tears she has been holding have spilled. The sight, it stops him cold. Her confusion, her need, her exhaustion - all radiate to him. His need to protect her overrides his physical need.
He stands, holding her and lays down on the bed with her. Hastily, he kicks off his shoes and hers. Realizing the lights are on, he voices a quick, "Lights off" to the computer before turning his attention back to the woman in his arms.
"Honey – just sleep. You're safe. Everything will work out, I promise. Just sleep."
She follows his directive without comment. Well, that's a first, he thinks. The only response she allows him is the feel of her backside nestling into him quite deliberately and he'll take that any day.
TBC
Chapter Thirteen - Dice with His Atoms
By Penmom
Author's Notes –- (1) Since this takes place beyond the present cannon - this is AU. (2) to Snow Queen – sure you inspire me too – I just have ADHD and leave out folks unintentionally – I lose my car keys all the time - I pride myself in NOT being one of those people who forget that their kids are in the car and leave them to bake in the sun all day. I do somehow manage to keep them healthy and reasonably happy. (3) As it is ALMOST Thanksgiving let me give my thanks to everybody who is continuing to read along - next chapter I intend to respond to some specific comments but today is just too busy and I didn't want to make you wait for this…
The walk back from the Captain's quarters is awkward to say the least. Neither speaks and both keep a companionable distance. There is an unspoken understanding, that one word --- one touch --- and well ---
They reach T'Pol's quarters before they make eye contact.
"Commander --- Charles --- Trip" she stumbles over his many names attempting to find the one that suits her tongue, all are equally awkward. Still, she understands that Trip would be his choice. "Trip, now that we have spoken to the Captain, I recommend that we speak privately. Ordinarily --- given the level of fatigue --- I ---"
Placing a hand on the small of her back, he interrupts, " 'nough said Darlin', after you."
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
With the door safely closed, both release breaths neither realized they were holding. She is exhausted and overwhelmed. He is too. She knows that he knows it, no reason to beat a dead horse. Hell, a couple times he could have sworn she would lose it.
The last two days and some odd hours have been such that he hasn't been able to spend much time really thinkin' about what is goin' on. Despite all the medical mumbo jumbo, he has no clue where in the devil he had come up with that Vulcan lingo. And past the words, it was the action itself - the meld - that's the real humdinger.
He was --- he had been --- she had been --- God, there were no words to adequately describe it. It was like he had been running his fingers through her soul, through everything she was. Hell, he had just kissed her. So why did it feel like --- he didn't know --- like it was way more than a kiss? If he had to guess, he would put money on that very moment – that's the one that played dice with his atoms – that one right there.
Too tired to even attempt to continue to maintain her usual stoic stance, she goes to sit on the edge of her bed, eyes open but unseeing. There is much to consider. The medical confirmation of her suspicions is staggering. There are too many questions, too many feelings to sort through them in an orderly fashion. Beyond the factual accounting of the phenomenon, she is keenly aware of an increased humming within her physical being.
Practically, she admits to herself that the longer she allows the increasing physical impulses to grow unchecked, the more difficult it will be to reason, to simply think. She must think, she must sort this out. But the hum in her blood is distracting. After leaving the Captain's Cabin, it took all of her carefully honed defenses to not --- to not act on her impulses. Even now, she fears that one brush with him will consume her in a most unbecoming way.
'OK, what to do or not to do?' He thinks as he watches her sit there, shoulders bent as if the weight of several worlds is pressing down on her delicate shoulders. If his brain is functioning so God damned better, then why for God's sake is he standin' here like a mute fool? His first impulse is to go to her, to touch her but if she wanted that, she woulda' said so. Still, she was not half as bold as he had once thought her. He knows this now.
He wishes he could know what she was thinkin' and suddenly remembers he pretty much can… Well, when in Rome…
It's a jumble that's for sure --- doubt, shame, worry, frustration, indecision, agitation. --- That's enough for sure, he is at her side in a moment, kneeling at her feet like a suitor from long ago. He meets her gaze and is shocked to encounter unshed tears waiting to fall.
With this simple connection, something seems to slide from her. She is suddenly on the floor with him, boneless in his arms. Lying in the protective circle of her arms, she opens her eyes and a sigh escapes her lips.
Touching her, holding her - everything in him compels him to seek her out as before. The last time, the last time, it felt like something had been left undone – what he didn't know but in this he is a salmon headin' in to spawn. He winces at his own analogy.
He raises his hand to her temple as before. This time her own hand slides up his face, this time she is ready. He gazes into her eyes. Even before he speaks the ritual words, he is flying. He is falling back into her at a dizzying speed. Like fingers interweaving as hands clasp so go their souls.
Again through memories – oh to stop at each – and then sensations – tactile memories – tastes – sounds – colors. Then, he is suddenly hyper aware of his own body. He is hot, heavy with arousal, his blood cries to take her. His eyes open abruptly to find hers open as well.
His mouth begins a slow descent to hers when he sees that the tears she has been holding have spilled. The sight, it stops him cold. Her confusion, her need, her exhaustion - all radiate to him. His need to protect her overrides his physical need.
He stands, holding her and lays down on the bed with her. Hastily, he kicks off his shoes and hers. Realizing the lights are on, he voices a quick, "Lights off" to the computer before turning his attention back to the woman in his arms.
"Honey – just sleep. You're safe. Everything will work out, I promise. Just sleep."
She follows his directive without comment. Well, that's a first, he thinks. The only response she allows him is the feel of her backside nestling into him quite deliberately and he'll take that any day.
TBC
