Chapter 11

AU for "Zero Hour" and really AU for "Storm Front, Parts 1 and 2." As in there is no "Storm Front, Parts 1 and 2." Celebrate good times, come on!

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Trip couldn't help it—he looked again. At this rate, it was more than likely he'd have a crick in his neck before the night was out. He'd been trying not to, but Lorian was there, sitting next to him—really there, in-person—and Trip couldn't stop looking at him and smiling. His cheeks ached from it.

"I can't believe you're really here," Trip said to Lorian for what must've been the twentieth time. He reached out a hand and slapped his shoulder. "Damn great to see you, son."

Lorian just smiled at him, indulgently. He looked past Trip to T'Pol sitting on Trip's other side and his expression changed, softening a bit. Trip turned and looked at her, and it made him misty-eyed to see that she held Lorian's gaze, calm understanding and gratitude in her eyes.

"Your timing was exceptional," she said to their son, and everyone laughed.

They were in the Captain's mess, all six of them crowded in together: Archer, Trip, T'Pol, Lorian, Karen Archer, and a weary-looking but happy Ensign Hoshi Sato.

"That's the understatement of the year," Archer said, picking up his drink and holding it high in a salute. "A toast to the Captain of the Enterprise."

"We would've been toast without you," Hoshi joked, clinking her glass against Karen's, and everyone followed suit.

The steward came in and began taking their dinner orders.

"You must've been thrown for a loop," Trip said to Hoshi and Captain Archer after the steward had left. "Bein' pulled onto Enterprise, but not your Enterprise."

Hoshi smiled. "Especially since the Denobulan crewman operating the transporter didn't look much like Phlox."

"Draynek acts exactly like his great-grandfather, though," Karen Archer said. "He may not be a medical officer, but he's just as thorough and cheerful as your Phlox."

"What happened?" Archer asked. "You didn't say much when you picked us up."

"We tried to locate you after we passed through the subspace corridor." T'Pol regarded Lorian and Karen Archer seriously. "We could find no trace of your vessel."

"We took a lot of damage when we fought the Kovaalans. I'm not surprised you couldn't detect us—we were dark for nearly six hours, on emergency power only."

"And the Kovaalans?" Trip asked. "You escaped with that much damage?"

Lorian nodded. "Took some tricky maneuverin', but we managed to get away. Our warp drive was still functional, enough to escape. But we didn't get far before it started actin' up, the EPS grid overloaded, and we had to stop to make repairs."

The steward came in with dinner. Trip looked down at Lorian's plate, surprised.

"You're not vegetarian?"

"No, not entirely," Lorian said. "Much to the chagrin of my mother."

Archer chuckled. "I can imagine. T'Pol and Trip have had several heated conversations around this very table on that topic."

"I just don't get it," Trip said, revving up the old argument. "If it's engineered meat, why is it still 'morally objectionable'?" He air-quoted the last two words, giving T'Pol a side-eye glance with a twinkle in his eye.

"There is no logic in perpetuating a practice which tacitly condones the unnecessary killing of animals. Not when all the required nutrients can be obtained from plant-based sources."

"I'd like you to find me a plant that tastes like this," Trip said, holding up a fork with a juicy medium-rare piece of steak speared on its tines. He shoved it into his mouth, chewing passionately, eyes closed. "Damn, that's good."

T'Pol glared at him in silence.

Lorian chuckled. "My childhood is echoing in here."

Trip just grinned. "I'm just teasin'."

T'Pol pushed her foot against his under the table. He slyly reached out and grabbed her hand, tucked out of sight, squeezing it briefly before letting go. No one knew about them yet, not really, Lorian's presence notwithstanding.

"Why didn't you contact us?" Hoshi asked after the conversation lulled.

Karen Archer answered. "Our long-range communications were down, but we had higher priorities to address first."

"Once we got the warp drive up and running and long-range scanners back online, we looked for you." There was steel under Lorian's voice. "We couldn't let you know we were comin', but we weren't about to miss the chance to help you save Earth."

The room fell silent as those fraught moments replayed in their minds. If the other Enterprise hadn't returned—it was an ending no one wanted to imagine.

"Thank you, Lorian," Archer said quietly, holding his gaze steady. "I know I'm not the same captain you knew, but if I can speak for him—I'm damn proud of you, son. And I'm honored to call you captain."

Lorian's voice broke as he answered. "Thank you, sir."

Trip let the moment hang, and when it became too intense, he slapped Lorian's back again, joking, "Chip off the old block, huh?"

Everyone laughed, and Captain Archer mock-toasted Trip, too.

"All other systems are now operational," Karen Archer continued when everyone turned serious again, "but communications are still in need of repair. We are missing some components."

"We'll swing by Jupiter Station." Captain Archer put down his glass. "They'll have what you need."

Lorian and Karen Archer shared an emotional look. "We can finally go home," Karen said, a crack in her voice. Lorian reached out and laid his hand on hers. She smiled back at him.

"I think you'll be pretty popular." Hoshi's smile was wide. "Everyone will want to hear your story. You're heroes—part of the legend, now."

Trip set down his glass with a clank. "Tell you what—I'll buy you both a round at the 602 Club. I've already promised my crew in Engineering. You should join us."

"We will do that," Karen Archer said, her voice trembling. She turned to Captain Archer. "I have been dreaming of seeing Earth since my grandfather, your son, told me all about it. Every story he had was from you."

Archer smiled wistfully. On that side of the table, the conversation continued about the highlights the second Enterprise crew would want to visit once they reached earth.

On their side of the table, Trip quietly addressed Lorian. "And your mother? What are her plans?"

"She has not yet said what her preference will be," Lorian said thoughtfully. "But I believe she will want to return to Vulcan."

T'Pol looked thoughtful. "Will she go home, to our mother's house?"

"I am not sure; she may wish to retire in obscurity." He paused, thinking. "I would like to meet my grandmother, however."

T'Pol looked surprised but recovered quickly. "That can be arranged. She will be fascinated by you, but I am not certain the introduction will be a particularly pleasant one."

Lorian looked down. "I know my half-human status will cause some ripples in Vulcan culture." He looked up again, determination in his eyes. "I'm prepared for it."

"There is no arguing your intelligence or your ingenuity," T'Pol said stiffly. "It will be illogical for any Vulcan to deny your contributions."

Trip nodded in agreement. "You have nothing to prove to anyone. Like Hoshi said—you're a hero. Nothing they say matters."

Lorian squared his shoulders. "I'll remember that." He paused. "And the two of you? You seem—different."

T'Pol looked pointedly across the table where the conversation continued without them, before turning back and looking at Lorian confidently.

"We are finding some balance," was all she said, and Lorian smiled.

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T'Pol settled in front of her meditation candles later that evening with a tired sigh. Having access to her emotions also seemed to have a direct effect on her energy level. Her conclusion: vivid emotions were physically draining, and the last several days had been filled with them.

Trip had given her space, and she was very grateful to him for that. Since the other Enterprise's reappearance and the continuation of their return to Earth, her duties had taken precedence. She knew whenever she was in the same room with Trip that he was anticipating a time they could speak alone, but T'Pol had not felt ready.

Not yet.

Her anger was all but gone. If she focused on it too long, her irritation would flare again, but it was weak and half-hearted. It was as if her mind was tired of retracing the same emotional steps, not when the reason behind the emotions was no longer relevant. Trip had proved his loyalty to her, his dedication to her, over and over again since she'd let him back in.

And since she'd reinitiated their bond, she'd been careful to maintain strict control over their encounters. Deliberately connecting with him via touch may have seemed as though she was attempting to strengthen their connection, but if she were honest with herself, she could admit the truth: she was taking advantage of his ignorance.

Purposefully setting herself as the knowledgeable partner had given her the illusion of control. Temptation had swirled in the midst of their connection, a desire to dive headlong into a full-strength bond.

Trip was wholly unaware of how close they really were. She had managed to keep a distance between them, using his lack of understanding to maintain it. But a bond wasn't meant to be sustained atop such a weak foundation. Even now, in separate quarters, the bond was ready, waiting, to be fully realized.

All that remained was her surrender to the inevitability of their future together.

Suddenly feeling cold, T'Pol stood and walked across her quarters, pulling the blanket from her bed and wrapping herself in it. She sank to the floor again behind her candles, studying the slowly wavering flame, and tried to come to terms with her reticence.

Reticence wasn't accurate, she realized after some introspection. It was fear.

So many things could go wrong if she fully surrendered to their bond. What if she engaged in physical intimacy with him again and strengthened their connection, only to discover they weren't truly compatible? What if their differences were too numerous to overcome? What if his love for her was temporary?

Humans were not known for their loyalty in romantic relationships. She had discovered in her work on Earth that the divorce rate among humans was alarmingly high. More than half of all marriages dissolved. Most humans had multiple mates during their lifetimes. Longevity in marriage was seen as an admirable achievement, almost an impossibility.

To tie herself irrevocably to someone from a culture that viewed mating so flippantly—it felt reckless.

Still, she reminded herself, she was not bonded to a faceless society. She was bonded to Trip. And Trip himself was exceedingly loyal, not just to her, but to anyone he cared about. And Vulcan marriage was quite different from human marriage. Vulcans were telepathically bonded, while humans made verbal declarations and signed documents. There was really no true comparison, not at the outset.

Long-term human marriages—successful ones—deserved further study. Perhaps there was a common variable she could rely on to strengthen her relationship with Trip. She paused, making a brief notation in her Padd to continue research in that area.

But the argument for strengthening the bond—she could not begin to count the benefits. Trip supported her, surprised her, challenged her. He was teaching her to appreciate humor, to take a joke, to tease, to flirt. It felt so foreign, but so satisfying. She had always appreciated sharp wit, but humans had a way of mixing both wit and humor, and Trip had the unique talent of using that humor-laced wit to make her feel desirable as well. She let the memory of that feeling drift to the surface of her mind and allowed herself to bask in it, just for a moment.

She blinked, refocusing on the candles. The balance of evidence in favor of strengthening her bond with Trip far outweighed the balance against. So why could she not take the necessary steps? Why did she continue to vacillate?

T'Pol sighed, closing her eyes, escaping to the white space in her mind, trying to settle herself.

She could not hesitate indefinitely.

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"Senior officers are scheduled to arrive at Bay Stadium at 0900 hours. Ensign Mayweather is prepping the shuttlepod. The ceremony will start at 0930, and Captain Archer is scheduled to speak for 15 minutes." Hoshi closed the file on her Padd. "After that, there will be a ceremony to recognize the fallen crew and to look toward the future of exploration and peace."

"And the rest of the crew?" Captain Archer asked.

"They're being ferried down at 0700 by crew transport ships," T'Pol answered. "Orbital Station crew members have been assigned to oversee ship functions while in spacedock."

Archer nodded. "And the bios of the fallen crew—have you seen the final tribute presentation yet?"

"T'Pol and I reviewed it yesterday," Trip said. "It's fantastic. The PR people at Star Fleet Headquarters took all our suggestions and made it even better."

"Very well. Dismissed—see you in the launchbay tomorrow at 0800."

The group dispersed—Reed and Mayweather headed back to the launchbay to finish the prep of the shuttlepod, Hoshi back to the bridge, reviewing the last of the communication logs to be sent in the debrief package to Star Fleet Command.

Trip and T'Pol stayed behind with Captain Archer. Repairs to Enterprise had to be finalized. A few minutes later, and their checklist was complete.

"What are your plans now, Captain?" Trip asked, straightening up the command center table and grabbing his e-files.

Archer shrugged. "I have the debrief at command. Then after that, I'm not sure. We have almost a month of shore leave. I'm not quite sure how to fill it."

Trip caught the tiredness around his captain's eyes and noticed how Archer glossed over the stress of the upcoming debrief. He let it go and smiled. "It will feel strange not havin' a crisis every other day."

Archer seemed grateful Trip didn't pry. "Every other minute you mean."

They both chuckled. No one commented that it seemed forced. Hey, they were trying. Getting back to normal wasn't going to be easy.

Archer turned to his first officer. "And you, T'Pol? What are your plans?"

She looked from one to the other, her eyes lingering for just a fraction longer on Trip. "I had considered rejoining the high command," she said quietly. Trip stiffened.

"Leave Enterprise?" He felt his heartbeat increase. In his mind, he felt a wave of calm wash over him. She was trying to soothe him.

T'Pol continued. "No. I feel the High Command cannot offer me the experience I need. I will likely formalize my commission with Star Fleet instead."

Archer grinned. "Soval's gonna love that."

T'Pol raised her chin and narrowed her eyes. "Ambassador Soval does not have a say in my personal decisions."

Trip smiled, heartbeat slowing. "You gonna say that to his face?"

"I already have."

Archer laughed as he said, "To be a fly on that wall. What did he say?"

T'Pol paused, letting the suspense increase. Finally, she said primly, "He does not see the logic in my decision."

"I can just imagine," Archer said dryly.

He gestured toward the exit, and all three of them moved out into the corridor. They still had to meet with the commander of the orbital station to finalize the repair docket. He was waiting for them in engineering.

T'Pol waited until they were alone again in the turbolift before adding, "I did not make Ambassador Soval privy to all the factors involved in my decision, but I reminded him that privacy is still respected on Vulcan. He did not argue."

"He better not," Trip muttered, and T'Pol shifted, bumping against him.

You must control your emotions around the captain.

Trip frowned at her. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, concentrating.

Stop doin' that. I can't do this talkin' in my head thing without lookin' like an idiot.

"You feeling okay, Trip?"

Trip's eyes popped open and he looked over at Archer, who was peering at him strangely.

"Sure, Cap'n. Just feel a little dizzy in the turbolift sometimes." Archer nodded but his expression was still puzzled. The turbolift door opened and they began to exit. Trip waved a hand in dismissal and added, "Carryover from when I got stunned. Phlox says it's fine."

Your skills at prevarication are alarmingly convincing.

Trip was the last one out of the turbolift, and at T'Pol's mental observation, he flicked her shoulder blade.

"Stop it," he hissed. "You'll get me into trouble."

You like being in trouble.

Trip finally looked at her. Her eyes were sparkling; she was teasing him. He smiled back, letting his hand graze hers as they walked.

Captain Archer was thankfully oblivious. When they were a few meters away from the hatch to main Engineering, he asked, "What are you going to do on shore leave, T'Pol?"

"I will return to Vulcan and visit my mother. Formally joining Star Fleet will make such a return home difficult for the next several years."

Trip nearly tripped at that news. He'd expected to spend shore leave with her.

"Well, enjoy your trip home," Archer answered, putting his hand on the hatch and pushing it open. "What about you, Trip?"

Trip spared another glance at T'Pol's back as she stepped over the threshold and into Engineering. "I'm not sure, sir. My hometown's gone. My parents are displaced at the moment—I'm not sure what I'm going to do."

T'Pol and Archer had paused inside Engineering, and Trip closed the hatch behind himself. The look T'Pol was giving him was a promise—they'd talk about this later.

"Well," Captain Archer said, laying a hand on Trip's shoulder. "Whatever you do, make sure it's far away from me." He grinned, softening the implied insult. "Once the debriefing's done, I don't plan on seeing any familiar faces for three weeks."

Trip shoved aside his trepidation and grinned at his captain, his friend. "Understood, sir."

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"Packing?"

Trip was at the door to T'Pol's quarters, just having opened it at her beckoning. He leaned casually against the locker at the foot of her bed, letting the door close behind him.

At his question, she looked at him with a raised eyebrow. Trip smiled. He loved asking her questions with obvious answers, just to get that expression on her face. Teasin' her was becoming one of his favorite hobbies.

And apparently, it was becoming one of hers as well, if that conversation earlier was any indication.

She paused in her folding. "Shouldn't you be doing the same?"

Trip studied her. "I don't know. Should I? I don't really have anywhere to go."

T'Pol took a deep breath and gave him a look that said he should already know the answer to that question. "You could come with me."

"To Vulcan? I don't remember hearing an invitation."

"I did not think one was necessary. We are bonded. We should remain together. Separation has already proven to be difficult—it would be illogical to separate without sufficient reason."

"Well," Trip said, letting his accent thicken, "Humans need a little coaxin'. An invitation's just good manners."

She put the pants she'd been folding in the pile with a little more force than necessary. "Manners are arbitrary constructs that rarely serve a logical purpose."

Trip laughed. "I suppose you're right. It's probably why we did away with all the bowin' and curtseyin' of centuries past. But invitations, even when they're obvious, are logical."

She stopped what she was doing and stood at attention. "Explain."

"Yes ma'am." He smiled to soften his teasing and came to stand in front of her. "You know humans often will say one thing but actually think something different."

"Yes," she said dryly. "I am more aware of that fact than ever before."

Trip let her comment pass. "An invitation, especially in a relationship as new as ours is, confirms intention. Nothing has to be guessed at—if someone verbally states an invitation, it means you're actually wanted." He reached out, gripping her shoulder gently, running his thumb against her collarbone. "Especially when it's asked in a question."

She looked at him for a long moment, eyes unfathomable.

Trip waited.

"Will you come with me to Vulcan?"

Trip smiled and pulled her into a hug. "Of course I will."

He hadn't come here fishing for an invitation—okay, so he had. But the thought of being separated from her for three weeks was pretty unbearable. Not when they were in such a fragile state.

"Where would I stay?"

T'Pol's voice was soft. "You could stay in my mother's home."

Trip raised both eyebrows in surprise. He pulled back, trying to read her expression. There was something there underneath her words, some negative emotion polluting her happiness over returning to Vulcan.

Trip tried not to sigh in frustration. This bond was difficult to figure out. She seemed to be able to influence him quite easily—talking in his mind without concentrating, for instance—but Trip couldn't do that yet. He'd felt like before, when she hadn't known about their bond, he'd had a better handle on it. He could sense her emotions more easily. But lately, since they'd reconnected, it felt different. All of it was just a little bit harder. She was there in his mind; of that he had no doubt.

But doing what he used to—pressing his energy up against hers, letting his emotions influence hers—that was a hell of a lot harder in the last week. When he wasn't touching her, it was hard to read her accurately. He could turn his thoughts inward, but it took a lot of concentration to do so, and that was hardly useful when trying to keep up with a conversation.

It felt like trying to speak in another language when he wasn't fluent. Listen-translate-think-translate-speak. Only in this case, it was listen, check body language and facial expressions, turn inward to confirm, think, check again, and speak.

It was a little exhausting.

The only other way to get at the truth was to get her talking. Not that that was any easier.

Trip sat down on her bunk next to her open suitcase. "What have you told your mom about me? About us?"

T'Pol paused briefly as if startled by the question but recovered quickly. Picking up a stack of clothing, she set it down firmly into her suitcase. "I have not mentioned you."

She turned away.

Trip fell silent, watching her pack. What did that mean, exactly? What did she want from him? Every time he thought they were getting closer, she would say something that made him think they weren't. He concentrated, turning his thoughts inward and immediately wished he had done it already, despite the difficulty.

She was nervous.

He grabbed her wrist gently and the feeling got stronger. Tugging her toward him, he scooted down on her bunk and pulled her down to sit next to him, holding her hand. "I would love to go home with you," he said firmly. "What's making you so anxious?"

T'Pol was silent for a long moment before answering. "My mother—she's not likely to support our relationship." She studied his face. "It may be a difficult visit."

"Most girls' mamas like me," Trip said. "But I'm not sure southern charm works on Vulcan mamas."

Now that he was touching her Trip could feel her amusement through their bond. "It is unlikely."

Trip squeezed her hand. "If she disapproves—will it matter to you?"

"I would prefer that she be persuaded," T'Pol said quietly. "But I must make the best decision for myself."

Trip took a deep breath. "Okay, then. I'll be on my best behavior, and we'll see what happens."

T'Pol nodded and stood. She turned to her suitcase, closed it, zipped it up, and moved it to the floor.

When she was done, she came back to him and Trip stood. She gripped his hands in hers.

"I have been wanting to ask you something."

He searched her eyes—this was important to her. "You can ask me anything."

She hesitated a moment, then said, "Your joy in the last twenty-four hours—I have not felt it from you before."

"I haven't felt this in a while. Definitely not since we were bonded."

"Why now?"

Trip shrugged. "So many things—savin' Earth, the Captain and Hoshi bein' okay. Lorian returnin' to us—that one was such a joy. I mean, I know he's not my kid, not really, but he is still kinda, right?" Trip grinned. "Since he's lost his dad, I get to maybe fill the gap some. There's a lot of joy in that. A lot."

She looked away, down at their joined hands. "But there's so much uncertainty."

"See, that's the key right there to balancing emotions," Trip said, and she returned her gaze to his. "There's a saying on earth: Think Positive. It's trite, I know, and it's pretty reductive, but I think for the most part, it's true."

"Meaning?"

"If you focus on the positive, your life will be positive." He squeezed her hands reassuringly. "My mama has a quote framed on the wall of her home office: 'Life may give you a cactus, but you don't have to sit on it.'"

T'Pol raised her eyebrows in disbelief. "That's quite colorful."

Trip smiled. "So's my mom. But what it means is, sure, things'll throw your life into a tailspin. Some negative emotions can't be squashed until you've really felt them, deep in your soul. But if you focus on the good—that's the first step to winnin' the battle."

T'Pol looked down again. "I am not certain I can do that."

Trip took a few minutes to think. How could he help her? He had to tackle this from a more practical approach. "What is your current instinct?"

She answered immediately. "To assess every available piece of evidence and weigh the balance. Then decide based on that balance."

"That's still true," Trip said, nodding. "You can rely on the same method. But the difference is that with emotion, sometimes it's difficult to let go of the evidence that argues against the outcome you want. The emotional mind keeps bringing it back to the surface, even you've logically dismissed it."

Trip paused to let T'Pol process what he'd said. He could see—and feel, if he concentrated hard enough—that what he said was resonating with her.

"That evidence we hang onto—it becomes what ifs. What if we can't rescue Captain Archer? What if we can't destroy the sphere?" He paused, letting go of one of her hands and briefly cupping her face. "What if T'Pol doesn't want me?"

Her look softened. Trip continued. "What ifs are dangerous to an emotional mind. They keep you focused on the negative, and that can freeze you in a moment of decision."

She looked thoughtful. "Was that what happened to you near Sphere 41?"

Trip nodded. "It happened fast, but yeah, I think so."

"So how do I keep from making that mistake?"

"I wouldn't say it's a mistake," Trip said. "It's more of a matter of trainin' your mind to go in a different direction." When she looked confused, he added, "Remember when we were in the command center and you gave me your emotions?"

"Yes."

"That's how I was able to process them. I felt them—all the negativity, worry, fear, everything—and then I stopped it. Let it sit there, and turned away from it, choosing to focus on the positive. Instead of thinking about how we might not be able to destroy the sphere, I focused on everything we were doing to make it happen. That gave me confidence instead of worry. It let the worry dissipate."

"And near Sphere 41?"

"I might not've been successful," Trip admitted. "It was all happenin' too fast. But you provided the reminder I needed—I could do it. I got my focus back."

T'Pol seemed to finally believe him. "And your joy now—it's possible because of that focus?"

"I read once that true joy is only possible when you've experienced true sorrow. It's the contrast that makes the emotion so powerful. But if I'm still focusin' on that sorrow—I'll miss out on the joy."

Trip stopped; it was his turn to look away as emotions overcame him. "Losin' Lizzie—that was when I was most tempted to wallow in it. The anger, the despair, the overwhelmin' grief—I wanted to sit on that cactus. The pain felt righteous. Necessary."

He sighed and squeezed her hands. "But then when I least expected it, we spent that night together, and for just a moment, I caught a glimpse of joy again. I felt whole, even if it was fleeting. It made me want to change. It made me see—my sorrow didn't have to stay that way forever."

"I'll always miss my sister," Trip said, voice breaking. "But I know she'd want me to be happy."

"I want to feel it," she whispered, her eyes welling with emotion. "I can feel your joy coming from you, and I want to experience it myself."

"You know it's all because of you," Trip whispered, leaning his forehead against hers. "All that I said before—bein' happy about the Captain, about Lorian, about saving Earth—none of that would be possible if it weren't for this." He slid his fingers around the back of her neck. "If it weren't for you. For us."

To Trip's surprise, she didn't place her hands on him as well. Instead, she reached up and grasped the zipper tab at the top of his jumpsuit. He lifted his head, searching her eyes.

"We have eight hours," she said softly, and slowly pulled on the zipper.

Trip smiled and kissed her ear. "Take all the joy you want from me, Darlin'," he said softly. "Everything I have is yours."

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A/N: Sorry for those who were hoping for it, but I can't write a lovemaking scene to save my life, so this won't turn into an M-rated story.

A/N2: I suppose this could be the end, but it's not. :)