Chapter Four – Jon & T'P Do Some Bonding

A.N

I am a dead-writer if I don't mention a little thank you and dedication due in order for a one Carrie Anderson, who is most commonly seen around the 'Dirty Dancing' section on Without her random inspiration,the roller-skates scene probably wouldn't quite exist in the form it does in the following chapter. Enjoy...

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As it turned out, Travis had a box full of old childhood memories he was just waiting to run Starfleet Captains over with. I was venturing from hallway to hallway deep in isolated thinking mode, when he cascaded down B Deck at a furious speed and found himself in an entirely inappropriate and very cosy position atop my chest.

"Ensign!"

Scrambling and falling and scrambling some more the skilled boomer tried to claw his way back to some degree of a vertical position by grappling at the walls as he slipped and slid on an archaic pair of roller skates no less.

"Horizon?"

He nodded meekly as he dusted himself off and found a sliver of balance.

"Yes Sir."

He looked beyond apologetic. He looked like he would choke on his own guilt if he tried to issue a verbal apology. I felt obliged to dive in and save him from such a difficult-to-explain-when-the-mother-asks-how-her-boy-had-died fate.

"What size are they?"

I was also getting around to asking something. He looked up at me with a strange relieved frown.

"A nine Sir."

I beamed. "Perfect. I haven't skated since I was fifteen."

"You skated Sir?"

I wasn't particularly fond of his emphasis on the 'you'. "Those skates and my want to have a shot of them are saving you from confinement to your quarters again Ensign. I suggest you begin to believe in my abilities."

He still looked sceptical, but I guessed that was unintentional enough.

Finally with a shrug he placed his back to the wall and slid down carefully to the floor, no less managing to skid two thirds of the way down and make a satisfying thud with his poor buttocks on the poor floor. The 'you' comment wasn't all that insulting when he did that.

"Here you go Sir. Just to let you know though, I think the floors have just been buffed or something, it's quite smooth riding round those bends."

Not that B Deck had that many bends to call its own; there were a row of quarters which included the Sub Commander's right where there was a T-junction and then to the left the turbo lift and to the right a communal bathroom. I never did ask why that was there, considering every quarter had a bathroom of its own.

"Thanks Ensign. I think that's the second shot on the Chair I owe you."

"I'll hold you to it Sir."

The thing was, he would.

Sitting on the floor myself now I donned the size nines on my size eight and a half feet, briskly slipping on the left skate as I just remembered the hole that I had worn into the big toe of my blue sock. Travis was grateful discreet about witnessing it.

"You know Sir, I have a skateboard too, oh and a toy bow and arrow set. I bet you'd make a great—"

"Don't say it, don't even mouth it."

He pursed his lips together and amidst his respect for me fought back a sneaky smile. Payback I assumed, and rightly so. But then I had every right to be not entirely keen on random Ensigns skating along B Deck and landing on me with the force of a Klingon on steroids. A Klingon on steroids… I let out an involuntary shiver.

Slowly I stood up, slightly more held together than my Helmsman had been. I smiled proudly as my hand hovered close to the wall, just in case. We stood at the end of B Deck together, T'Pol's quarters dead ahead of me. I wasn't sure whether she was in or not. I prayed for the latter.

"Give me a push?"

Travis shrugged, finally realising it had been X number of years since I had skated, and I was allowed a push without the mock to go alongside it.

"Ready?"

I nodded. Then I wondered what I was doing. Then I realised that the buzz had gotten to me far more than I had promised myself I would let it. How bizarre…

Travis let rip one almighty push and I yelped in surprise as I bolted forward at a tremendous Warp speed. There was no stopping me now as I rolled on forth towards the one place I so dearly did not want to crash in to, but looked like I was going to anyway. Damn those gods…

Travis, loyal as ever, chased after behind me, but was unsure whether he would be sent to the brig or not for trying to assist me whilst inevitably crushing my pride in the process.

"For God's sake Travis, this was a bad idea and I'm sorry so help me!"

Bless his boomer heart he tried, he truly did, and I could see that, sort of behind me, but as I said, there was no stopping me. An extra burst of speed came from an involuntary reflex that sent a random foot flying back as I tumbled on, T'Pol's quarters remaining stubbornly in the line of fire.

And then that blasted thing happened again where a door opened.

As it was, T'Pol was in. And as it was, her bed was laid out directly across from the door, which was curious because I don't think I'd ever seen a bed laid out like that in any of other the quarters before. I tilted my head as I considered it, quite fascinated, before I looked up and saw what appeared to be shameless horror ripped across the unfortunate Vulcan's face. I honestly wondered at times why she was still aboard with us…

I had no choice now but to assume crash landing position and so I tucked my head in, squeezed my eyes shut and did some all-essential praying. T'Pol dove back into her quarters and made too much of a fumbled rush of trying to shut the door over, giving me enough time to leap magnificently through the door.

There was a yelp and a thud and much cringing on Travis's behalf as stars and stripes crossed my vision, and for a brief moment I was sunbathing in California.

Then I was being shoved off of a Sub Commander, or at least desperate hands were trying to.

We had managed a tangled landing in the bed, and had taken up the Klingon-steroid position myself and Travis had held not ten minutes ago. T'Pol did not look impressed by my skating skills. T'Pol looked terrifyingly mad.

"I agreed," with a grunt she shoved me onto the floor and I landed with a crunch on my tailbone, "to cover your shift on the bridge at this time so that you could consider some decisions you had to make and catch up on a backlog of recordings you said you had. Not so that you could play in the corridors with Ensign Mayweather."

She threw him a look that made his bladder cower.

"May I ask for an explanation?"

I thought for a moment then pursed my lips together to fight off the emerging grin.

"What size feet to you have T'Pol?"

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I tapped Ensign Mayweather politely on the shoulder. He was sitting comfortably at the Helm. I had newfound respect for him, and was jealous of him because he was clever enough to run from the line of fire as soon as I had convinced a simmering T'Pol to donned those skates.

She had picked up the skills of skating very quickly, and had exceptional balance. She swore to me however, on some strange alien-tongued Vulcan oath that her sense of direction had not been her own and she had not intended to chase me through B Deck and then down flights of stairs I didn't even know existed on my ship!

At least I knew now all those 'Dodge the Klingon' classes with Malcolm in the gym had not been a waste of off-shift time.

I hadn't realised my chest was heaving as I hung over Travis, skates held in hand by the laces. Hoshi had backed off to the left on her station, and Malcolm's fingers hovered uncomfortably close to several red switches before him.

"I apologise for pestering these off you. Here."

I happily dumped them beside his feet, ignoring the clatter of steel against steel as I threw myself into my Chair.

"If anyone needs me I'll be in my happy place."

And that was where I went, eyes glazed, not concerned in the slightest that ideas of being captained by a slightly crazy middle-aged man were now entering Hoshi's mind.

I dutifully ignored the swish of the turbo lift door as it did that thing and opened. I found ignoring slightly less easy to do as Trip did his six-year-old sneak-up-on-dad-routing and scared the holy Porthos-poop out of me. I don't know why it was holy Porthos-poop…

"Cap'in, ah need some clearance on somethin'."

Catching my breath I thought of a few things I wouldn't mind clearing out of this ship via the airlock.

"Trip!"

The entire bridge sucked air deep into their lungs. I re-taught myself the ignoring skit.

"Yes?"

He smiled. I waited.

"Can ah use some of that material we traded D'Marr the coffee for?"

I blinked, and then I forced down the rush of aggressive adrenalin that hit my system faster than any bout of coffee could.

"D'Marr? The trader from last year? The trader who offered us the silks but we refused? The one we only took information from us in exchange for ten kilos of coffee?"

Trip nodded dutifully. "Yep, that's him."

I should have given myself a wider berth for believing I would regret this Halloween/4th of July idea.

"What materials are you talking about then?"

"The materials I traded the lipstick for this time."

I wanted T'Pol back…

"I thought you said coffee. Wait, what lipstick? When?"

Trip in turn began to look agitated. "Just then, a few hours ago at lunch. Didn't y' see his ship go by? It's gotten pretty big since last time we saw it."

"Trip! What did I say your limitations were?"

He pondered for a moment then nodded. "No over board jesters an' no usin' the bridge."

"Trip." I forced myself to remember that at times Trip needed special consideration. "Did you just edit what I told you yesterday in your head today to suit yourself?"

I then lost his eye contact, but pushed onwards anyway. "Go on, be honest. I wont throw you in the brig."

No, only T'Pol when I decided to go back and get her…

"The rule about no tradin' might have slipped ma mind when ah commed him."

I nodded, somewhat satisfied with his honesty. "You can use the materials. If I see a scrap of it on this bridge you can lock yourself in the brig tonight."

The bridge released their deeply held breath. I checked quickly to see if everyone still had a pulse. Shaky as Hoshi looked they seemed okay.

"Go, before I throttle you."

It was cute that he thought I was joking as he bounded off again, throwing Malcolm a quick nod and a wink.

"Y' might have t' restock on toothpicks as well Sir."

I ignored that one.

Travis turned in his chair slightly, enough that he could make eye contact with me; not enough that he felt he was in any line of fire.

"Sir, where is T'Pol anyway? Isn't she meant to be on duty right now?"

I bit back the awful smile that I knew meant I was just being a little too cruel and enjoying it just a little too much. Of course the same thing could probably have been said for T'Pol as she watched me ponder where the stairs from C Deck had come from as I tumbled down them.

"You can go explain that one to Porthos Ensign, if you so desire."

(And roller-skates in bed

Share a toothpick, trading lipstick)