Disclaimer, etc. in part 1
I'm sorry this is so late; there are no real excuses except business and laziness.
N.B.: This all takes place well before "The Expanse." Everything else is fair spoilergame.
The good news: You're reading this. The bad news: this isn't the end. Knock yourself out. I do have a much more solid plan for part 3, though. And this should only run 3 parts.
~~~~~
"Show me one man who knows his own heart; to him I shall belong." ~Jewel, Kiss the Flame
~~~~~
He watched Trip wind through the mess hall. Even though he'd offered Trip a seat next to him—and he was sure that it was the only seat left besides the one at T'Pol's table—he simply waved back, told him 'hey,' and then sat directly across from the Vulcan. That was odd, but certainly nothing too important. Except that he was jealous. Why couldn't he have such an easy working relationship with T'Pol?
And then he looked again. This was definitely not what one could call a 'working relationship.' It just plain hurt to see them together like that. And were they holding hands under the table? Was he the only one who noticed this? He found himself unable to look away long enough to find out. But he'd thought she just might desire him. He certainly harbored feelings toward T'Pol. Hell, he'd even told Trip about those feelings. But she'd chosen someone else. And one question surfaced through the pain he felt:
What could he do about it?
He turned his head too quickly away from the two, for they would soon notice him staring.
~~~~~
The next week passed much more easily for Trip than any of the time prior. He'd always eat lunch with T'Pol while discussing everything from philosophy to sports. Trip found himself laughing at much of what T'Pol said. Who said Vulcans didn't have a sense of humor? She was smart, witty, interesting, exotic (even after nearly two years of acquaintance), and kind, let alone one of the most beautiful people he'd ever met. And, for now at least, she was with him.
Sometimes they'd meet at one person's quarters and eat in privacy, stopping for the occasional kiss or caress. That was all they wanted for just then. Or at least what T'Pol wanted. Trip would certainly not mind going farther than either of them had, but he knew how much it meant to let T'Pol set their pace. She was going to take it slowly, and so Trip would wait for her.
And she was opening up to him more than he had ever expected her to be able to do. It was exhilarating to watch T'Pol transform into someone who, though she still valued logic over all else, was willing to experiment and allow herself to feel for him. That most of all was why he loved her. He could stay like this forever and stay chaste; that was what they meant to each other. His state when he was near T'Pol was beyond bliss; it was peace. It was like he was home.
~~~~~
It was dinnertime. The captain was still in his video conference with Admiral Forrest and probably wouldn't be dismissed anytime soon, so Trip and T'Pol were making the best of their time in the private dining room as they could.
It had started, as it usually would, with a Vulcan-style kiss, warm fingers on cool, and had soon become more. They had quickly moved away from the barrier that the table had created between them and were now tightly embracing in one corner of the room, letting their touch and their scents intoxicate one another, kissing in a decidedly Human manner. T'Pol's right hand cradled the back of Trip's skull and in a moment of abandon, she gently brushed her fingers against his cheek and temple. Trip suddenly felt as if he were exploding with feeling. These sensations were, he knew, not only his or hers. They were theirs. Trip had felt enough of T'Pol that he knew the unique flavor of her mind and thoughts, but this was much more intimate than any other time he had touched her soul. Trip cautiously explored her mind, carefully ensuring that he wasn't violating her. He had learned from T'Pol what Tolaris had done, and didn't want to make her feel like that ever again.
She was deep and rich and primal, and overwhelmingly strong, yet there was a fragility underneath this strength that Trip had never sensed before now. He could now know what exactly Vulcans suppressed and meticulously controlled. And he finally understood why discipline was so crucial to them. Just a week ago, he had given her the idea that she could let herself feel as much as she did; his gift to her.
And suddenly, he couldn't do it. He couldn't let her succumb to the passion and fear and paranoia and chaos that threatened to take her over.
As Trip pulled breathlessly from their embrace, T'Pol looked liquidly up at him, a silent plea for explanation as to why Trip so suddenly looked terrified. "We'll talk later," he whispered huskily, almost regretfully. Just then, the door to the dining room slid open. Trip and T'Pol were still entwined when Archer stepped into the room, his eyes dazedly flitting from man to woman and back. So what Malcolm had told him was true after all. The way she was holding him—almost desperately maintaining her touch and struggling to regulate her breathing—and the way Trip's hands were placed tenderly against T'Pol's neck and the small of her back said all Archer wanted to know. After taking one final charged glance at the couple, Archer pivoted silently and left.
"Shit," Trip swore before pulling completely away from T'Pol and jogging away to intercept his friend.
T'Pol's sense of loss and apprehension shocked her in the first moments she spent alone, but she quickly regained a measure of control as well as the ability to move unaided.
Just then, the door opened again, and T'Pol's heart irrationally skipped in her belly before she saw the steward enter with dinner. The tall young man was balancing the large trays of food much more easily than T'Pol was balancing her own burden at that moment.
"Where are Captain Archer and Commander Tucker?" he inquired.
"I doubt they will be able to return here to eat," reported T'Pol as she continued fighting her confusion.
"Oh—I'm sorry…"
"It is no concern of yours, Mr. Hooyboer. They were both called away. Please have two of the dishes delivered to Commander Tucker's quarters and the other to the Captain's. They may appreciate that when their meeting is finished."
"Yes, ma'am," the steward said, leaving as quickly as he arrived, if not much more confused and curious.
~~~~~
Trip caught up with Archer ather soon after leaving the mess hall. Archer was in the corridor, refusing to make eye contact with Trip. Soon, they reached his quarters and Trip slid into them just before the door closed.
"Captain—"
"How long?" Archer still faced the window, paying no attention to Trip's reflection, and Trip remembered the last conversation they'd had like this. That one hadn't turned out well either.
"Not very. A couple weeks," he replied, trying and failing to stay neutral.
"Don't give me that. I saw what happened after that away mission. Lieutenant Reed's mentioned seeing you two in the mess a couple times. How long?"
Trip bristled—Archer shouldn't have been snooping anyway, and now he was accusing Trip of lying?
"Yeah, that mission's when it started. But it's only the past couple weeks that we've been serious. Or even allowed ourselves anything real."
"You'd take advantage of her like that?" Archer's voice was devoid of pity or concern. It was entirely a jealous accusation, and a feeble one at that. Trip breathed in an equally feeble attempt at self-control.
"I'm not taking advantage of her!" he sputtered. "I'm letting her tell me whatever she wants and we don't do anything else. We're going as slowly as she needs. What's the matter, are you jealous that I'm with your girl? Well, what you saw is the most intimate we've been, and she's sure as hell not your girl. Get used to it. And if you—"
"That's not—I'm not—She—"
"If you're trying to separate us, you can go straight to hell, Jonathan Archer. Besides, you've had lots of opportunity to 'take advantage of her like that' yourself. Not that she'd want that. I—you—you're a child."
Archer opened his mouth—in shock or in protest, he didn't know—but Trip turned away from him and quickly left, barely avoiding Crewman Hooyboer.
~~~~~
Trip was the first person after Crewman Hooyboer to reach T'Pol's quarters. Furtively he pressed his thumb onto the panel, picked up the containers of food, entered, and waited on her couch. He didn't have to wait long. Within five minutes, she joined him. Without need for needless requests, he began setting out the food.
"I waited for you in your quarters," she quietly explained. "Why did you push me away?" Trip didn't hear the softness in her voice.
"It's—it's just that your feelings were so much. You're so—so—God, I can't explain it. I don't know how you can live like that. I mean—you've worked so hard to control yourself… the Vulcans, I mean… and I didn't really understand how much you need to do that. I love you for who you are when you're in control of yourself, T'Pol, and I don't want to see you lose that. I can't see you like that and still live with myself." The anger that had filled Trip not long ago was now forgotten. All there was in that moment was regret for what he was doing to her.. Her control was obviously still shattered, for her eyes glittered noticeably before she was able to hide her expression.
"Perhaps your emotions have been affecting me," T'Pol conceded. But she continued: "I shall have to increase the amount of time I spend in meditation."
"No, honey, I don't think that'll work," Trip whispered. "I think we'll have to slow this down a bit too."
If T'Pol had been stunned earlier, she was ten times that now. She hadn't been taken over by the same exhiliration that had infused her being during her clandestine visit to the San Francisco jazz club so long ago. She wasn't losing all her control by opening herself to him. She had simply allowed herself to feel something, and it was too good to let go. Being able to lower the barriers that took so much energy for her to maintain, just once in a while, couldn't be a bad thing. Trip provided her with release, and she wasn't going to allow him to leave her like this.
"Tucker—no." Her voice was plaintive, but not whining, and Trip saw that she really did need him as much as he needed her. He provided her with means to feel emotions, and she gave him the strange sort of peace he'd never normally associate with love.
"I didn't say we had to break it off. I just think we need to slow down a bit until we're sure this is what we both want. And besides, if the Captain's any indication, half the crew already knows about us. We've got to be less public anyway."
"What did he say?" T'Pol asked, genuinely comforted by his concern for her.
"He's not very happy about it. You're aware he's wanted you for a while now?" T'Pol nodded, images of her most awkward conversations with him flooding her. "Well, that really pissed me off—hearing him talk about you like he loved you. And just now—he's pretending that you really were his." He laughed mockingly. "I don't think I should have said some of the things I did. But the way he was talking—" Before he continued insulting his best friend, T'Pol interrupted.
"What did he say?" she inquired, more pointedly this time.
"He let it slip that Malcolm had seen us. I assume that means he's the one who told the captain. I mean, if he'd known before, we'd know it. But at least Malcolm's no rumormonger. If Annelle found out about this, say—"
"Annelle?"
"Lieutenant Hess. She's a great engineer, and one of the nicest people I know, but she repeats everything she hears with extra details." Trip was visibly calmer now; the crimson hue of anger that had tinted his cheeks moments ago was fading, and he had finally sit down again. "I'll talk with Malcolm later. He's said stuff to me before about admiring your body, but I doubt it goes beyond that. And as for the captain… I'm really not sure what to do with him. So how about we eat now?"
T'Pol nodded—a habit she had unwittingly acquired during her time among humans. "Did you have this sent here?" Trip asked. Another silent affirmation came from T'Pol, this one in the form of a direct look that conveyed her understanding and intention. "I bet the steward was a bit curious about why you sent two meals here."
"I had not anticipated that," T'Pol admitted. "However, I doubt Crewman Hooyboer's speculation will add anything substantive to the 'rumor factory,'" she added a bit too confidently.
"Rumor mill," corrected Trip. "And maybe that's true. But what about the captain and Malcolm? I mean, if we've been that obvious, God knows how many others know. What d'you think we should do?"
"Perhaps we should simply continue as usual with our relationship—" here Trip coughed loudly and intentionally—"or more slowly and discreetly, and answer any challenges as they arise."
Trip loved seeing her using logic and calm to overcome emotion. It was why he was doing this. He fell silent for a moment.
T'Pol surmised from his evident discomfort that he was wondering exactly how to confront the challenges that had already arisen. Though she knew little of what Humans generally did in situations such as these, she knew Trip very intimately after having known him for nearly two years, and so was acutely aware of his need for reassurance. What to say to him, however, was entirely different, so she remained momentarily taciturn. She was irrationally exhilarated by his more emotional states, the coolness of his body next to hers, the blueness of his eyes, the pale glitter of his hair backlit by the soft lighting and the stars in the window behind him. T'Pol remembered the first time she had seen his eyes as stars, and a strange calmness overcame her. His very presence was giving her the peace she had given him only a few weeks ago.
Meeting his eyes with her own, she reached for his hand and opened her mind. The familiar warmth of T'Pol's mind enveloped Trip once more, and he visibly relaxed.
"You really should allow me to teach you to meditate, Tucker; you are still unsettled."
"T'Pol, how many times have we been over this before?" Trip asked, irritation only mildly affecting his voice. "I don't really want to spend so much time in a day just sitting around not doing anything."
"Meditation is not 'not doing anything,' Tucker. It will aid you in remaining calm before you speak with Captain Archer and Lieutenant Reed."
Trip closed his eyes tightly for a moment, wrinkling the soft skin near his temples. "OK," he conceded. "What do I do?"
~~~~~
Several minutes after they had finished, Trip still felt as if he were floating, though whether from the meditational exercise or from his prolonged physical and mental contact with T'Pol, he didn't know. Nor did he care, really. He felt strong and balanced and ready to talk to Malcolm without repeating the same mistakes he'd made with the captain over an hour ago. He was ready.
Then why am I chickening out? he asked himself as his thumb hovered over the door chime. Trip felt a rush of embarrassment at his indecision and pressed the chime before he could decide otherwise. The seconds passed—two… three… four…--and he pressed the chime again. The response was more immediate this time as Malcolm's voice crackled through the comm panel.
"Who is it?"
"Malcolm, it's Trip. We need to talk," Trip said, hoping the sudden tension in his throat wasn't as audible as it felt. So much for 'relaxed…'
The door swished open with just a hint of a squeak, and Trip stepped in without being invited. "Malcolm…"
"Have you finished the energy use reports on the impulse manifolds? I need them for my upgrades to the phase cannons," Malcolm interrupted.
"I have Lieutenant Hess finishing them as we speak. They'll be on your computer first thing in the morning. But that's not why I'm here."
"I know," whispered Lieutenant Reed. "You saw me watching you and T'Pol in the Mess Hall, didn't you?"
"Not exactly. But we both know that you know about us, and we need to talk about that. Malcolm, it's not my intention to hurt you or anyone through this. You have to believe that. But our relationship is by our mutual choice, and it's worth more to me than your disdain. I'd been wondering why you'd been acting so weird over the past couple of weeks. I don't want to lose your friendship, but you're the one letting it get in the way."
"You're the one exhibiting it, though," Malcolm argued just as quietly as Trip.
"So you'd have preferred it if we'd lied to you and everyone else?" Malcolm's face paled. He'd lose this argument if he stayed on the offensive like this, and he felt it so acutely that he didn't have to know.
"Trip, I can't promise you that things between us will be exactly as they were. I probably won't sit down with you at meals if it's just you and T'Pol. And I'll definitely be jealous whenever I see you together. But I can tell you that I'll be civil with both of you, and I hope we can still be friends, too—we've at least been able to pretend it lately."
Trip had to concede that point, and his eyes drifted to the floor in front of his shoes. They'd eaten together with the captain about a week ago and he'd only started noticing changes after the captain left the room for a moment. He'd been a bit terse at the time, of course, but Trip had expected that from Malcolm. Trip knew how uncomfortable Malcolm was when cornered into an unwelcome social occasion, after all.
"Thank you, Malcolm." That was all Trip had to say.
"I shouldn't have told the captain about you. I wanted to when I first saw you, but then I decided against it. Somehow it just kind of slipped out, though."
"Malcolm, that's all right," Trip replied. "We'd have to have told him sometime. I'm more pissed off at him."
"I suppose so. But I still don't feel right about it. I betrayed you."
"Damn straight you did. But I don't blame you for anything that happened. All I'm saying is—"
"All senior staff, report to the Situation Room in fifteen minutes," Archer's voice interrupted over the comm system.
Trip was the first to speak after both were certain that the announcement was finished. "Shit. Can we talk later?"
"Do we have a choice?"
"Evidently not. I'll see you in fifteen minutes."
