Chapter 13
A/U for "Home"
.
.
.
The knock on T'Pol's bedroom door came softly. She checked the time—0030. Perhaps he wouldn't sense she was still awake, and go away. In these vulnerable hours of the night, she wasn't sure she could resist him if he pressed her.
The knock came again.
I know you're awake.
She jerked, startled. Of course he would speak in her mind. A physical door was no deterrent. The fact that he hadn't done so before now meant that he'd been respecting her space.
Please, T'Pol? Let me in.
I cannot.
Yes, darlin', you can. I promise—I won't do anything you don't want. But I need to see you. Please.
Through the bond, he pushed his concern toward her. It surrounded her, a warm weight in her mind. Sighing, she slid out of bed, pulled on her robe, and opened the door.
Trip stepped inside and closed it behind himself.
A meter away, she stood with her arms crossed, waiting.
Trip didn't speak. He leaned against the door frame, watching her. After a moment, when the tension became overwhelming, he stood straight and closed his eyes, breathing deeply.
That warmth—his reassurance, his love—settled more fully into her mind. T'Pol closed her eyes reflexively. Their energy was there in that mental space, two separate entities. Trip's was nudged up against hers and all those contact points became conduits, guiding his encouragement into her.
Taking a shaky breath, she pulled the warmth from him until she felt it physically. Like a dry plant in a summer rain, the brittle tension in her mind began to ease.
T'Pol could not say how long had passed. At some point, the sensation faded and she opened her eyes. Trip was leaning heavily against the door frame, perspiration shining on his forehead. He was breathing deeply.
Tired eyes settled on her. "How could you do that so easily before? That took everything I had."
She looked at the ground. "Our bond is weak. Without physical contact, the transference of emotion is difficult."
Trip picked up the hem of his shirt and wiped the sweat away. T'Pol's eyes slid closed again, but the glimpse of his abdomen was provocative.
Trip smiled, catching her expression when he dropped his shirt. "Sorry. Didn't mean to give you a show. Although, if physical contact is more efficient," he paused, stepping a bit closer, "if you want…"
Her wide eyes shot to his and she backed up until the back of her legs hit the bed. "I do not."
"I suppose it is a little dangerous to be foolin' around right under your mama's nose."
T'Pol pressed her lips together. That was a topic of conversation she would not pursue. "Why are you here?"
Trip sighed, stepping back again and taking up his space against the wall.
"You were keepin' me awake. I tried ignorin' it, but your emotions are all over the place. I was worried about you."
"I am fine."
He scoffed at that. "That's an outright lie and you know it."
She pressed her lips together and didn't answer. If he would only leave…
"I just don't understand," he said, voice gentle. "We'd finally discovered something that works, didn't we? You're still facin' withdrawal symptoms from the Trellium. You're steadier when we're connected, not just mentally, but physically. All of that is true, right?"
She nodded, stiffly.
"Then why fight it? Why make it harder on both of us? What logic is there in denying it?"
"You said you would trust me."
Trip blinked, seemingly taken aback by her abrupt non-answer.
"I did, yeah."
She stared at him.
"So that's it, huh?" Trip stared back, frustration evident in the tense expression. "You just expect me to ignore the fact that you're barely hangin' on, and just let you suffer?"
"Yes."
"No." He stepped closer, voice dropping to a husky growl. "I won't do it, T'Pol. I can't."
He grabbed her arms, pulling her closer until their faces were an inch apart. His blue eyes gleamed in the dim light. "Don't ask me to do this. Not without giving me a good reason."
"I gave you one."
Jerking away, he swore and curled his hands into fists. "That reason wasn't enough of an explanation. There's more you're not telling me."
Her continued silence fueled his frustration.
"You should've never brought me here. Not like this."
Her voice cracked when she answered. "I know."
"So then why did you?"
Her eyes welled with tears at the undisguised pain in his voice. She could not answer, but Trip sensed one all the same.
His body relaxed. "You do know you need me." He said it gently, but she winced as if he'd pressed a bruise. "You know it, but for some reason you won't share, you're holdin' back. Denyin' yourself. Denyin' both of us."
"I apologize." She blinked the tears away and lifted her chin. "I did not realize I was adversely affecting you. I can remedy that."
Trip's eyes widened. "No, I didn't mean—"
But she'd already closed her eyes, turning her thoughts inward, and carefully erected the barrier between their energies.
When she opened her eyes again, the hurt in his nearly made her undo it.
She turned away, consulting the clock. "It is late. It was a long journey, and we both need rest."
There was silence for so long that she thought he might have left, but when she turned again, he was still there, staring at her.
"I'm trying to trust you," he said, and that pain was still there. "I'll go, but I won't give up. You're too important."
She didn't respond, and in a moment, he was gone.
.
.
An hour later, T'Pol lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling. Every cell in her body felt as though it was vibrating, attuned to the waves of emotion coursing through her.
She checked the barrier again—firmly in place. No wonder she was so tense. All of this unchecked emotion had no outlet. It bounced off the walls of her mind endlessly. With virtually no connection to Trip, she was back at square one. The small reprieve she'd had as Trip had shared his positive emotion through their bond had dissipated entirely.
The sensation was achingly similar to that horrifying moment almost 24 hours ago, when she'd woken, terrified, from sound sleep.
The moment she'd realized the joy had disappeared.
It had been Trip's joy, of course, not her own. Not at first. But what had begun as a need to be close to him, a need to absorb his positive emotion for her own through their tenuous bond, had evolved into a symbiosis she had not anticipated. His joy was infectious, and somewhere, in the midst of their joining, that indescribable, incandescent emotion had burst to life inside her own mind.
It was hers—joy sprung from the realization that her emotions were a benefit, not a curse, because they made this kind of exhilaration possible. She'd basked in it, letting the warmth of it suffuse her until it felt as though her body glowed from within.
Again and again that night she'd returned to the deep well of their connection, pushing Trip to his physical limits, desperate to ingrain these heady feelings into the very fibers of herself. She could not absorb enough, could not ignite enough, to satisfy herself. It was more euphoric than any dose of Trellium had ever been.
She had been thoroughly and utterly seduced.
The entire experience—physical, emotional, spiritual—had been transformative. It had felt as though she'd crossed a threshold into a new world, never to return to the comparatively darker life she'd lived until that night.
She'd drifted off to sleep, content. Hours later she awoke to a different world, and a stark realization: she had significantly miscalculated. Illusion was all it had been.
Just like now, almost a full day later, the positive emotion that had been ignited by her connection with Trip had disappeared.
Had she truly experienced it in the first place? The shadow of it that lingered seemed untrustworthy. And the joy of last night felt like a dream now—unreachable, unrepeatable, and gone.
T'Pol blinked rapidly, eyes stinging from the tears that welled unbidden. She turned, facing the wall, and again tried to process the loss.
The critical moment was simple to pinpoint. She'd awoken at 0400 with a gasp and a start, suddenly cold. Curled up against Trip, his warmth pressed up against her, T'Pol had frozen, barely breathing. She pushed closer, but to no effect. It felt as though an invisible wall separated them, keeping Trip's warmth from leaching into her.
She'd shivered again, simultaneously bereft and terrified. Anxious, she had taken a deep breath and tried to elicit the feeling that had bloomed so effortlessly just hours before. The memory rapidly fading, T'Pol had reached out with her mind, desperate to rekindle it. Instead, it had slipped away like smoke.
In the early hours of yesterday morning, she'd come to a realization: this bond with Trip was not the answer to all of her problems.
She had hoped it would be. It had been a naïve thought, that another person could be the answer to every obstacle she faced in life. Last night was proof positive that their connection could not siphon off all of her debilitating negative emotions, not even with the most powerful positive emotion of all.
The night before, Trip had said that focusing on the positive was the answer. To look for what could happen, not what couldn't. To remember that perfection wasn't the goal. Living in the present, finding joy wherever it could be found: that was the key to finding balance.
It had seemed so simple.
Reality was much crueler. The transience of those positive emotions made them undependable. Perhaps with a true bond, a deeper one, they could find balance. But their future was entirely uncertain. Such a bond, a human-Vulcan pairing, was bound to be difficult. There was no guarantee that this bond could—or should—last forever.
She must face the possibility that a true bond may be impossible.
Her options were few. She could fully invest herself in strengthening their bond. Her body called to his, and there was no question she felt most at peace when they were in sync on all levels. It was a simple solution: Focus on Trip at the expense of all else. Eventually, their bond would strengthen, and the rest of her life could thrive with their partnership at the center of it.
But doing so required significant sacrifices. For T'Pol, clinging to this bond meant defying her culture, her mother, and destroying any chance of a future within the Vulcan command structure. Taking a human mate would equate to a resignation at best, a career immolation at worst. Even so, Starfleet would accept her; of that she had no doubt. Her career would survive, albeit on a different trajectory than she had anticipated.
Her mother was a different story.
Bringing him to Vulcan was foolhardy. She'd known this the moment she'd suggested it. T'Les would not accept him. T'Pol was prepared for her mother's disapproval over T'Pol's assignment on the Enterprise, even though it had been sanctioned by the High Command.
She hadn't yet told her mother that she would be returning to Enterprise indefinitely after formalizing her service with Star Fleet, and T'Pol knew that would be an argument significant enough on its own. All of her persuasive skills would be put to the test, simply to prevent an unmendable rift between herself and her mother.
Concealing her nascent relationship with Trip was the most logical course of action, she had decided firmly. Matters did not need to be further complicated by the revelation that her chosen mate was human. T'Les was a formidable woman. One rebellious decision could be overcome; a second would be insurmountable.
T'Pol took a deep breath, pulling herself out of the past. The emotional cost of this sacrifice—that she had not anticipated. It was worse that she had predicted. Much worse.
Focusing again on the ceiling, T'Pol tried to ease the stress that this reflection unearthed. There were beams crossing overhead, one every 1.5 meters. She'd calculated the distance as a child, but now she checked her math, grateful for something to focus on other than her whirling emotions. The exercise calmed her. She breathed deeply again, returning to her thoughts.
It had made sense. Concealing their relationship was a short-term sacrifice for a long-term gain. In her mind, she'd rehearsed how she would explain it to Trip. She knew he wouldn't like it, but it was necessary. Away from Vulcan, they could be together unencumbered.
There in the early morning in her quarters, Trip sleeping soundly nearby, her resolve had been firm.
Here in her room on Vulcan, T'Pol shivered again. That firm resolve had been attacked in quick succession ever since. Each battle ticked through her mind:
Trip's arms around her yesterday morning as she finished packing, weakening her resolve to push him away. Her only defense had been the empty ache the joy had left behind.
His beautiful and emotional vision of her on the transport ship, equating her value with his most precious emotions, calling her his anchor, taunting her with what they could be. Only the feeling of unworthiness his innocent encouragement had unearthed in her had helped her stay the course.
His anger at her insistence that they hide their relationship, and his body, hot against hers, at the transport hub courtyard, the incendiary passion between them nearly her undoing. That time, only Trip's renewed control had saved her.
She had managed to regain her resolve at each encounter, but at significant cost. Every second that passed had been a marathon attempt to maintain it.
An hour ago, it had nearly shattered completely. His compassion, his need to care for her had almost broken her. One small weakening in her armor was all it would have taken, and Trip would have been here in her bed without hesitation. The mental barrier between them had been her only recourse, despite the pain it brought them both.
She knew she was hurting him, but there was no other option. Being with him openly, fully, while here on Vulcan with her mother—it would turn a spark of familial discontent into a conflagration.
Clenching the bedcovers in her palms, T'Pol shuddered, shoving down her need to take him up on his offer and go to him. She would not. She could not.
Because there was yet another complication in addition to her volatile emotions, her secret trellium addiction, her hidden bond with Trip, and her mother's ever-present disapproval.
Koss.
She clenched her teeth.
.
.
Trip woke with a start the next morning, shielding his eyes from the piercing light from the opening door.
"Good morning." T'Pol's voice was quiet.
Trip sat up, blinking. "What time is it?"
"0400."
"You've got to be kiddin' me," Trip said, groaning, and sat up, rubbing his face. He yawned behind his hands, using the covering of his face to hide what he was really doing—trying to reach her through the bond.
No luck—the barrier was still there. His shoulders slumped.
Trip dropped his hands and looked up at her again, squinting at her silhouette in the doorway.
T'Pol turned her head, peering down the hallway, before coming inside and closing the door. She turned the light on near the door and came closer to his bed, holding her arms tight to herself. Shielding herself.
What she said echoed his thoughts perfectly. "You look exhausted."
Trip yawned again as if to prove her point, and tried to decide how to approach her. The fog of tiredness made thinking difficult. So far, anger and frustration hadn't worked. Seduction hadn't worked. Tenderness—that had given him some progress, but not nearly enough. Trying to evoke guilt had undone some of his work—she'd erected this barrier to protect him.
Damn it. He'd just have to wing it. Feel her out, and take the opportunities when they came up.
He studied her face. "Doesn't look like you got much sleep either, darlin'." He paused. "You could've just stayed here with me."
She stiffened. "You know that is not an option."
"Sure it is," Trip shot back, his frustration surging. "Just not one you want to take. We might not've gotten a lot of sleep, but I bet we'd both be in a lot better mood this morning."
When she didn't answer, Trip sighed. He was shooting himself in the foot, wasn't he?
"Sorry. I'm a little too honest first thing in the morning. Especially this early." He paused before adding, "There a reason you're bein' my alarm clock?"
T'Pol seemed relieved that he was changing the subject. "It is our duty as guests to prepare the morning meal."
Trip raised his eyebrows. "Me? Cookin' Vulcan food? I hope your mom knows she's takin' her own life in her hands by allowin' that."
T'Pol's expression quirked a bit, and Trip was relieved to see a small glint of amusement in her eyes. "I will prevent you from making any significant mistakes."
Trip smirked at her. "Thanks."
He grabbed the edge of the blanket and stuck his feet out before stopping, nodding in her direction. "Unless you want to get another show, I suggest you meet me outside in a bit."
T'Pol's eyes widened and she turned, out the door in seconds.
Trip half-smiled wistfully at the closed door.
.
.
A few hours later, Trip was pulling the field generator module from its housing in the stasis unit in T'Les' kitchen, trying his best to focus on the job and not his mother-in-law's expressionless face.
Well, maybe not his mother-in-law. But kind of, right? Their current problems aside, he was bonded to her daughter—wasn't that the same as Vulcan marriage?
He pushed the thought away, carrying the field generator module to the kitchen island countertop. T'Les was working there as well, cleaning up from breakfast and preparing some food for later meals. Trip reached into his toolkit for the driver he needed, letting his mind get absorbed into the work and trying to come up with a way to break the ice.
And ice it definitely was.
Breakfast had been tense, to say the least. T'Pol sat carefully beside him, obviously avoiding any physical contact whatsoever. They'd reached for the fruit at the same time, and she'd yanked her hand back as if he'd burn her. Their fraught conversation last night weighed heavily on both of them.
But this was a triangle of stress now. The tension between T'Les and T'Pol was palpable. What had begun as neutral mealtime conversation devolved into a tense argument. For all that Vulcans claimed they were emotionally neutral, T'Les had shown a fair amount of disapproval and anger at T'Pol's recent choices.
Her words to her daughter could not have hurt more: What's happened to you? T'Les had no way of knowing how close to the truth she was. So much had happened to T'Pol, so much that she would spend the rest of her life overcoming.
Trip so badly wanted to help T'Pol conquer everything. To be her true partner. He ached to reach for her, only in reassurance, as she bore the weight of her mother's censure. But he couldn't, not now.
For the first time, Trip began to understand T'Pol's reluctance to publicize their relationship. If T'Les disapproved—that would be one more scar on his mate's already bruised mind. It could very well be permanent.
There had to be a way he could help her with this. A way he could convince T'Les he was a good man who only wanted the best for T'Pol. And perhaps through that—she may see the logic of their relationship.
Because whatever T'Pol's fears said, the two of them together made sense.
Trip was in the middle of fixing the stasis unit when he finally attempted conversation.
"Ma'am?"
T'Les stopped what she was doing and looked over at him.
"Just wanted to say thanks. For lettin' me stay here, I mean. I know it's an imposition."
"It is," T'Les said bluntly. "But not a significant one."
Trip blinked at her, adjusting to the forthrightness of Vulcan conversation. It had been a long time since T'Pol had treated him similarly.
"Ah, well, thanks all the same."
"There is no need for thanks. We Vulcans do not expect it. Expressing gratitude is an Earth custom."
Trip paused, surprised. He supposed she was right, but still: "T'Pol says thanks a lot."
"I have noticed." T'Les picked up a basket of vegetables on the island and brought it over to the sink. Pulling on a scrubbing mitten, she turned on the water and began washing them.
"My daughter has always been interested in alien cultures. I suppose I should not have encouraged her curiosity."
"I think her curiosity is one of her greatest strengths," Trip said, hoping he wasn't being too confrontational. But if like mother, like daughter—maybe T'Les liked a little friendly debate.
T'Les scrubbed the vegetable in her hand a little more vigorously. "Curiosity is admirable only in moderation."
"Most things are," he acknowledged with a shrug, fitting the cover back onto the field generator module and screwing the fasteners back into place. "Still, in our line of work, curiosity is necessary."
"Meaning?"
"Well, without it, we wouldn't be doing any exploring, for one thing." He picked up another tool and pressed it into the module, activating the small diagnostic screen to check the field stability. "And for another, it's her curiosity, or maybe more her curiosity combined with her tenacity, that makes her such an efficient problem-solver."
T'Les watched him work on the device. She seemed to be listening—he should take advantage of the opportunity. Trip wished he knew her better. What could he say to help her see how much T'Pol was valued?
"There were times in the expanse, lots of times, when our backs were up against the wall. We didn't know what would happen, and the literal weight of my world was on all of our shoulders." He paused in his work, remembering.
If her mother could only see what he saw. Even in her limited state, hindered by the Trellium addiction, T'Pol had been an asset. He couldn't share all of that, of course, but the truth remained: she had been vital to their mission success.
And to him, personally? She might as well be the air that he breathed.
He turned back to T'Les and met her steady gaze. "T'Pol held us together. She was our voice of reason on more than one occasion."
"Your assessment is biased."
Trip laughed. "Of course it is. Isn't yours?"
He bit his lip at his sass, half-wishing he could take it back, but T'Les' expression held admiration for his boldness, not censure.
"Of course," she acknowledged. "A mother's perspective is always biased."
She shut off the faucet, and Trip turned back to the module.
"Do you have any logic to support your claim?" At the question in his expression, she amended, "Of my daughter's value to your crew."
He nodded and finished adjusting the field calibration. Setting it down on the counter, he looked up and met T'Les' steady gaze.
"Some of it is classified," Trip said.
"Of course."
"But I can say she prevented the captain from makin' more than one significant mistake. She provided analysis that proved crucial to our mission success. She served as a neutral party with a species that were biased against us." He paused. These words felt so inadequate.
But T'Les was listening.
"Everything we encountered in the expanse really tested her. It could have broken her, but it didn't." Trip's voice roughened. "She held us all together. That steadfastness and her curiosity—she saved our backsides, and the crew's lives, and my life, more than once. She's a balance to our human tendency for impulsivity. But it's her curiosity that connects her with us."
T'Les stared back at him, and as the silence lengthened, Trip held his breath, suddenly afraid he'd said too much.
"You're romantically involved with my daughter, aren't you?"
Trip's eyes widened. His heart started pounding. He hadn't expected to be asked so bluntly.
"Well, ah—"
T'Les pinned him with her stare a few uncomfortable seconds longer before turning back to the vegetables. "There's no logic in prevarication, Mr. Tucker. You speak of her with such conviction. It is an obvious conclusion."
Trip stayed silent.
"How long have you been attracted to her?"
"Well, ah—," Trip swallowed, looking around for an opportunity to escape. "It's just, it's pretty one-sided, ma'am."
"Meaning?"
"It's me that's got a thing for her, mostly."
Could T'Les sense the half-truth? He supposed he was mincing words.
"I have known my daughter for over 60 years, Mr. Tucker," T'Les said dryly. "The attraction is reciprocated."
Trip picked up the field generator module and turned back to the stasis unit, hoping to end this conversation in any way possible. He'd done what he could—he needed to retreat and regroup.
He fit the module back into the housing and activated it. The unit flared to life.
T'Les looked on with surprise. "You've repaired it?"
Trip shrugged, grateful for a change in subject. "The field just needed a little tweaking. It's as good as new."
He came back to the counter and started putting his tools away. "After handlin' a warp reactor every day, a kitchen appliance is a piece of cake."
"Perhaps, if you can—" T'Les paused, uncertainly. "If you would not mind."
"What do you need?"
"My food synthesizer has also been in disrepair."
Trip smiled. Looked like he had made some headway. "Sure, I'll take a look."
Just then, there was a knock at the door.
T'Les was washing the last of the vegetables, and she nodded to the door. "Would you mind?"
Trip zipped up his tool case and set it down on the counter. "Sure."
The glass door did not hide the visitor's face. Trip grinned widely and yanked the door open.
"I'll be damned! You're here!"
.
.
.
A/N: Cruel ending, I know. Still, I figured if I left you with a cliffhanger, I'd feel so guilty about not paying it off that I wouldn't take forever to update. There's a method to my madness. :) I think we're at about 2-3 more chapters to the end.