AN/ People have actually asked me why T'Pol isn't working too. I guess it's a good thing I already wrote a background for this.

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Travis sat across from Charley holding the PADD containing the young ensign's case. He had read it at least fifty times, over and over again, but for the life of him he couldn't see what had happened.

A well behaved but slightly shy, ensign working as a personal porter to the various dignitaries and rulers that passed through the station on ambassadorial duties for their various planets and empires. And then all of a sudden disciplinary problems, requests to be transferred, outbursts in the hallway. All of these incidents occurring after he was assigned to Princess Nerul's section. It just didn't make sense.

When he was finally tired of reading, the Admiral finally just threw up his hands and stared Charley in square in the eye. "Alright, start talking. I know you wouldn't talk to Trip but you are gonna tell me exactly what was going on with this girl."

There was a moment of absolute quiet, like he was going to drop some kind of bombshell or something. But the words that followed weren't exactly a revelation. "I fell in love with her."

"That's it?"

"That's it. There wasn't anything wrong or illicit going on, I just…never fell in love before and it got kind of out of hand."

Mayweather looked around the brig, trying to comprehend what this kid's idea of 'out of hand' was. "Charley, you could be in a lot of trouble here. You might be court martialed."

Since the day he was born, the fourth man to bear the name Charles Tucker had always had a knack for understatement, but today he seemed in rare form. "I know."

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Of all the various traditions celebrated by the Tucker family, Picture Day was by far the most unusual. It had no origins in Human or Vulcan society and was unique to this one family in the entire universe.

Since the Tucker family was humanity's first experience with a long term interspecies relationship, the local newspapers and media had taken quite an interest in the day to day lives of Trip, T'Pol, and later their children. Since the idea of their offspring living beneath a public microscope didn't sit very well with Mr. and Mrs. Tucker, Trip decided to strike a kind of 'devil's bargain' with the Intergalactic Media: every year on the same day, the Tucker family would open their home to any reporter who wanted to interview, photograph, or generally harass them for the sake of a slow news day.

When he had been a little boy, Charles IV had been terrified of the cameras and usually ran into his room in tears rather then pose for a picture. This lack of clear photographs of the boy naturally led to some odd assumptions among the Vulcan High Command that there was no Human/Vulcan hybrid and that the Humans had simply made him up for political gain. It wasn't until Charles' tenth birthday that T'Pol finally managed to explain to her son that his camera shy behavior was causing an intergalactic incident and that the following Picture Day he had to remain still for at least a few photographs. His sister, Elizabeth, behaved only slightly better.

Lately she seemed to use Picture Day as an excuse for embarrassing or aggravating her mother. T'Pol had stopped counting the number of times she had the urge to revise her 'positive reinforcement' method of child rearing. Trip naturally found this hilarious, since his personal views on paddling his kids were always clearly in favor of 'yes'. Watching his wife struggling with her clean cut Vulcan methods was very often hilarious.

The only member of the family who actually seemed to whole heartedly enjoy the family's mock holiday was T'Mir. Every year, she tried to establish herself as a (in her words) "thoroughly logical example of a juvenile hybrid" what ever that meant. While she would often try to cover her emotions with the same logical exterior she saw her mother using, it wasn't unusual to see her slip and display some kind of jittery excitement or anticipation over the imminent arrival of the news writing community. This year was no exception.

"Have they arrived yet?" T'Mir sat crossed legged in front of the holoviewer, pretending to watch her favorite program but in reality was obsessed with her chosen outfit, one of her mother's hand me down meditation robes from her youth. "I am growing impatient."

"They get here when they get here." Trip said as he tousled her hair playfully with one hand.

"FA-THER! I must present myself to the Media!"

"All right, all right! Go fix your hair." Tucker tried not to laugh as his daughter scrambled up the stairs to her room to do just that. He still felt a little guilty about not telling T'Pol about Charley but if he was lucky, He could go to DS-1 after this was all over and clear this whole thing up before she ever even found out. All he had to do was resist the urge to tell her.

"Charles?" His wife's voice snapped him out of his thoughts and he again had to push down the guilt welling up from not telling her about her son's situation.

"Yeah honey?"

"They have arrived."

And sure enough Tucker looked past his wife to the front lawn of their home and saw what had to be at least sixty reporters of various races, each with a camera or personal recorder not too far away from their person. It seemed like there were more then usual this year for some reason.

Then suddenly, a realization struck Trip. It was almost like this was something more then a human interest piece. Like there was some other story these guys were looking for. His eyes went wide as the answer came to him. He tried to wave his hands to stop his wife from answering a question but it was already too late.

"Dr. T'Pol? Keith Studderd Neptune Colony Free Press, what's your reaction to your son's arrest?"

"I beg your pardon?"

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The reporters were hurried out off the property as soon as possible, nobody really wanted to be there anymore any way. T'Mir was asked to play quietly in her room while her parents talked. As usual, the dark haired child obeyed immediately and soon Tucker was left standing in the front hallway of his home, square in the sights of his very angry wife. She didn't say anything for a few minutes; obviously she was trying to find a way to express displeasure with out actually doing any yelling at him. Trip knew that was when she was usually at her maddest, when she lacked the ability to express it unemotionally. When T'Pol finally got started, Trip wasn't entirely sure what to say.

"How dare you." This wasn't said to him loudly, or even angrily. It was simply spoken. There was kind of casualness about it. Trip recognized it as the same tone T'Pol used to ask for salt at dinner. No rage, just 'How dare you and pass the peas.' For a moment, the former engineer felt all the oxygen in the room disappear and his throat getting very dry. "My son has been accused of a crime and you decided that this was not worth my attention? What facts do you have to accompany this logic?"

"It's just…you've been under a lot of pressure lately-"

"Not enough that I do not wish to know the welfare of my son."

"Would you let me finish?" Trip knew that yelling at her was only going to make things worse but it was getting hard not to, she had him in a corner and it didn't feel very good. "I didn't want to add to your problems." T'Pol's eyes narrowed and one of her eyebrows rose, "What problems?"

"Y'know," Trip suddenly realized what a bad idea it was bringing this up, "the whole…university thing…" T'Pol's narrowed eyes turned into slits.

"I was not 'fired'"

"Did I say that? Of course I didn't say that! I know how angry you get when I say you got fired!" Trip could almost feel his mouth filling with shoe. "Aw, honey I'm sorry…" But she just waved him away. "I assume this is why you were going to Deep Space One?" Trip lowered his head in shame, well aware he was in the dog house.

"Yeah."

"Do you desire me to come with you?"

He sighed, "No, I think I should go alone first. I don't wanna crowd the kid or anything."

"Good then we will discuss your lying when you return." Before he could respond, she was already up the stairs.

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Trip arrived on Deep Space One a little after 1400 hours on the chronometer and tired not to yell at Travis as soon as he saw him two hours later on the station Promenade but the temptation was rather hard to resist. "You wanna explain how the press found out about this, Admiral?"

Travis gritted his teeth. He wasn't really used to people talking to him like this, he had been an admiral for well over seven years now. He had to remind himself that the only reason he was tolerating it from Trip was their past service together, not that Tucker wasn't making all that seem like the distant past. "Some one on the station crew opened his mouth in the wrong bar; it wasn't anyone from my office."

"Yeah, whatever." Tucker didn't even bother waiting to see if his old friend followed him, he just started walking in the direction he knew the brig had to be in. "Let's go see my son."

To Be Continued