Chapter 14

A/U for "Home"

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T'Pol pulled the letter from its envelope for the fifth time. She opened it, reread its contents despite having them already memorized, and folded the paper.

Koss was coming.

A burst of irritation flared so strongly that T'Pol shoved the letter back inside the envelope with enough force to tear it.

She'd made her stance clear over three years ago: she did not wish to honor their childhood betrothal. They had no true connection. They had virtually nothing in common. T'Pol knew that Koss wanted a firm standing within Vulcan society: respect, recognition, and power. Although he had never said so, T'Pol suspected that he held aspirations for government leadership.

Such a life held no appeal for her. It hadn't three years ago, when her relationship with Trip was superficial at best. And now, while bonded to him?

An alliance with Koss was out of the question.

T'Pol put the letter into a drawer and closed it with more force than necessary. The flare of anger felt good.

It was a complication she should not have to contend with. Frustration surged at the mountain of obstacles it generated.

Trip needed to be informed.

Her mother needed to be persuaded.

Koss needed to be convinced to give her up.

Such a precarious set of tasks, each success dependent upon the other.

Underneath it all, the original problems remained.

T'Pol straightened her shoulders and checked her appearance in the mirror, taking a deep breath and beginning to plan.

First, she must tell Trip. Exiting her bedroom, she strode down the hallway, determined.

She came to an abrupt stop at the living room, eyes widening as she took in the scene: Trip at the door, facing another unanticipated complication.

Lorian.

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"I'll be damned! You're here!"

Trip couldn't hold back the grin, a welcome rush of pleasure overtaking him at the sight of Lorian standing at the doorway.

His son—would he ever get used to that?—regarded him stoically, but a twinkle of amusement sparked in Lorian's eyes.

"You did suggest it."

"Me?" Trip was surprised, but he noticed Lorian's line of sight wasn't on him. He turned and saw T'Pol standing behind him.

"Hello, mother."

"Please, come in." T'Pol said, her face betraying none of the emotion Trip knew must be swirling inside her.

Trip stepped back, and Lorian crossed the threshold. T'Les had finished in the kitchen. She approached them, her eyes looking on Trip and T'Pol with disapproval.

"Another of your colleagues?"

She came closer and stopped abruptly, taking in the whole of Lorian's face. "You—you're part Vulcan."

"I am. My name is Lorian."

Her eyes shot to T'Pol. "Your letter—the other Enterprise."

T'Pol nodded. "He is your grandson."

She had sent a letter to her mother as soon as they were within communications range. In the Vulcan way, her message had been brief and factual: another Enterprise had been discovered, one that had traveled through a timeline now split from theirs. Most of the crew's duplicates had since died, but T'Pol's had survived, as well as her son, Lorian.

She had not elaborated.

T'Les seemed stunned. She sank down onto one of the benches in the sitting area near the door, incapable of tearing her eyes away.

"Grandmother," Lorian said formally, raising his hand in a Vulcan greeting. "It is agreeable to meet you."

"I was informed of your existence," T'Les said once she'd regained some of her composure. "But when faced with the reality—it is disconcerting."

They'd taken their places on the benches: T'Pol beside T'Les, Lorian and Trip opposite them.

Lorian nodded in understanding. "I apologize for arriving so unexpectedly. We sent word ahead, but apparently our message was not received."

"We?"

"My mother has come with me."

T'Les jerked as if struck. She turned immediately to T'Pol, questions in her eyes.

"She's quite elderly," T'Pol said quietly. "They were in the expanse for over a century."

T'Les turned back to Lorian. "Where is she?"

"Resting," Lorian said. "We have secured accommodations nearby. We did not wish to impose. The journey was difficult for her, and she needed rest before coming here."

Lorian looked at T'Pol, compassion in his eyes, before speaking. "Returning home can be difficult. And after such a long time—" he turned back to his grandmother. "She wanted to give you time to prepare for her arrival."

T'Les nodded, her composure almost entirely restored. "Tomorrow, then. Please tell her I am looking forward to seeing her."

The conversation lulled. Before it became awkward, T'Les broke the silence. "My former colleagues at the science academy will be required to reassess their stance on time travel."

Trip laughed. "Seems so."

"They are likely to be intransigent," T'Pol added dryly. "Despite being faced with such undeniable proof."

Lorian's mouth quirked up at the edges. "I am prepared to be subjected to various tests to prove my identity."

"At the very least," T'Less said emphatically. She turned to T'Pol. "You did not tell me of his full parentage." She looked back at Lorian. "Your father was human?"

"Yes, ma'am."

At that statement, and the slight southern drawl under it, T'Les's eyes widened. She quickly looked from face to face: Lorian, Trip, and T'Pol. Her eyes were shrewd, and after a time of observation, they settled again on Trip.

"You are his father."

Trip smiled, looking at Lorian again. "Strong genes, I suppose." He turned back to T'Les. "But no, I'm not."

T'Les looked at him with an expression of irritation he'd seen frequently on her daughter's face. "There is no logic in denying the obvious, Mr. Tucker."

"He is correct," T'Pol said. "He is not Lorian's father. Another Charles Tucker was. His counterpart."

T'Les stood, suddenly unable to sit still. "I require a more thorough explanation."

"Of course," Lorian said smoothly. "Perhaps you would show me around? My mother has spoken fondly of your home."

T'Les seemed to relax at the suggestion of a simple task to complete. "Walk with me." She gestured toward the door and they exited.

T'Pol and Trip sat across from each other, watching them through the glass.

"Seems surreal, doesn't it?" Trip said quietly.

T'Pol nodded. "I am pleased he is here. My mother will find him fascinating."

Trip didn't hide his surprise. "Really? I thought she'd disapprove."

"Disapproval is illogical. There is no decision to be made. Lorian exists, therefore acceptance of him is the only logical choice."

Smiling, Trip looked back out at them. "Still shook her up a bit, though." He paused. "I'm surprised you told her about them."

"Again, it was logical. My mother would find out eventually, and knowing in advance would be less damaging than discovering the truth unexpectedly."

Trip watched T'Pol's face. She was still tense, and he was pretty sure having Lorian come to visit—along with his mother—was only complicating things.

"You're a good daughter. You know that, right?"

Her wary eyes met his. "I think my mother would disagree."

"Maybe right now. But if she understood everything, I think she'd change her mind."

They watched through the glass in silence until T'Les and Lorian rounded the corner of the house and stepped out of view.

T'Pol continued staring out the window, lost in thought.

Her eyebrows were pinched together, her expression a combination of uneasiness and frustration. At first, Trip thought it was the weight of all they'd been through, of being here, but not here together.

As the minutes passed, he realized: there was more. "What's goin' on?"

T'Pol turned her attention back to him. "What do you mean?"

"You seem angry. You haven't been, not about anything we've been dealin' with."

At her alarmed expression, Trip reassured her. "It's not what you're thinkin'—the barrier's still there. I'm just readin' your expression."

"I am angry," she admitted. "But not at you." She looked at her hands for a few moments, organizing her thoughts. When she spoke again, her eyes boring into his, Trip felt his stomach drop.

"There is something I must tell you."

There was another knock at the door. They both turned, and Trip scanned the face of the tall Vulcan male at the door.

T'Pol made a frustrated noise and stood.

"You know him?"

"That," T'Pol said quietly, "is Koss."

For a split second, the name didn't ring a bell. It had been a few years, after all. But when it did, Trip felt a surge of anger. "What the hell is he doing here?"

T'Pol moved toward the door. "I will take care of it."

He grabbed her elbow. "You knew about this? That he was coming here?"

"Yes," she said, pulling her arm away.

"T'Pol—"

She turned to face him. "I have to speak to him. I cannot do it with you here."

His argument must've shown on his face, because she stepped closer. "Please."

The barrier in his mind pulsed, and Trip shivered involuntarily. He nodded once, turned and walked away.

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"Breathe, honey," Trip said, pushing T'Pol into her bedroom and closing the door behind them.

She was breathing, but heavily. Her anger was mounting, and there was no place to put it, no outlet, no way—she reached for a glass decoration on the shelf, and reading her intent, Trip stepped in her way. He grabbed a pillow from the bed and shoved it at her.

"Press it against your face. Scream into it if you have to."

She did as he instructed, and the muffled wail behind the pillow made Trip's heart ache.

Trip felt desperate. He didn't know what had happened between her and Koss. He'd joined Lorian and T'Les in the garden, and the three of them had only been together for twenty minutes before T'Pol reappeared, face placid. She had pointedly avoided eye contact with him, and after they returned to the house sometime later, had dodged any of his attempts to question her.

And because of this damn barrier she'd erected in their minds, his surreptitious prodding had revealed nothing. Whatever she was feeling, she was keeping it tightly under wraps, hidden on her side.

It was later that evening when everything fell apart. Trip was in the living room reviewing communications on his Padd when T'Pol burst into the living space from her mother's bedroom with such a fury on her face that Trip's heart began to race in alarm.

Immediately grabbing her hand, he pulled her here to her bedroom, out of sight.

He couldn't begin to imagine what incendiary conversation had sparked this kind of reaction, but she had to get herself under control.

The pillow he'd given her wasn't working. T'Pol's fingers bit into the upholstery and she pulled, tearing the cloth. Throwing the pieces to the floor, she looked around wildly, desperate.

Trip grabbed her again, putting his hands on her face just like she'd taught him, and pushed his mind toward hers forcefully.

She froze.

For a tense moment, Trip gathered up all of the reassurance he had and pushed with all his might against the barrier in their minds. He felt it bend. It would not break, and then he hesitated, afraid that breaking it might hurt her. But a second later it was gone, burned away by the fury trapped behind it.

Her anger rushed into his mind, filling every crevice until his positive emotion was almost consumed by it. Her cry became his, and Trip's fingers trembled against her head as he fought against pressing too hard. T'Pol's hands immediately reached up and gripped him. The connection now complete, the anger flared higher for an instant, like a geyser at its apex, before it began to abate, his reassurance resurging and overcoming it. It swirled as if going down a drain, washing away, until it was almost gone.

But not entirely.

Trip opened his eyes. Tears coursed down T'Pol's cheeks, and Trip pulled her into his arms, holding her tight. She clung to him.

The silence stretched as T'Pol's breathing evened. After a few minutes, she pushed away and stepped back. Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply, and Trip realized with dismay that she was recreating the barrier in their minds.

Damn it.

She opened her eyes again. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he answered back. "What happened? With Koss, I mean. I thought you broke it off with him a long time ago."

"I did." Her voice was flat, but it was anything but emotionless.

"Then why is he here?"

T'Pol's eyes flashed, the anger diminished but still alive, waiting for fuel to flare to life again. "Vulcan betrothals cannot be severed so easily. I had hoped that he would see the logic in acquiescing. A reluctant mate is not ideal."

Trip's heart sank at her implication. "But he didn't."

"No," she said, her words clipped. "He is insisting that our betrothal move forward."

"He can't do that." Trip's ire began to rise. "You already have a mate."

T'Pol shook her head. "But not a Vulcan one. In the eyes of many, what we have is not a true bond."

"Your mother?" Was that what they had talked about?

"I have not yet asked her opinion; she does not know about our bond. But yes. She will likely see our bond as inferior."

"Defective, you mean."

T'Pol nodded stiffly. "We cannot prove otherwise. Not at this juncture."

"And you? Do you think what we have isn't real?" Trip held his breath. She would be honest, and that's what terrified him.

She paused, looking down at the floor. "I do not know. It seems real, but I have no frame of reference. There has never been a couple like us. I do not know what we are capable of."

Trip scoffed at that. "Yes, you do. The proof has been out there in the yard for half the day. Lorian is evidence enough."

T'Pol's expression was indecipherable. "His father died young. Perhaps their bond was never fully developed."

"There's one way to find out for sure." Trip held her gaze.

T'Pol caught his meaning. "I could speak with her. But proving our bond is viable is not the greatest obstacle we must overcome. There is an additional complication."

"Of course there is," Trip sighed. Sitting down onto the bed, he ran his hand across his face in frustration. "What now?"

T'Pol sat down next to him as if her legs could no longer hold her. "My mother's retirement wasn't voluntary."

"What?" Trip was startled by the emotion in T'Pol's voice. "Why?"

"She was asked to resign," she said, her voice wavering. "She's being investigated by the security ministry. They claim she took restricted data for personal gain."

"Did she?"

"No." T'Pol looked at him with such pain in her expression that he immediately grabbed her hand in reassurance. She continued. "The charges have been fabricated. She lost her position because of me."

Instantly, he knew why. "Because of what happened at P'Jem."

"Yes."

He grunted in frustration. "Now it makes sense why you were so angry."

T'Pol took a deep breath, trying to retain the calm he'd given her. "It is not just anger. It is—" she stopped, searching for the right words to express her complicated feelings. "I feel—"

She stopped again. Emotions were still so new to her; the language to describe her feelings often eluded her.

"Can I try?" Trip asked the question softly.

She studied his face warily.

"I know enough now to know how to respect your boundaries. If you remove the barrier, if you let me back in, I will respect them. I promise."

"I think you are making a promise you cannot keep."

He sighed. "Maybe so. But I'll for damn sure try." When she remained silent, he continued. "I didn't want to bring this up, but I think you need remindin'. Remember what happened last time you shut me out?"

Her jaw twitched, and beneath his fingers at her wrist, he felt her pulse quicken. His physical decline had come on quickly then, the first time she'd suffocated their bond. He wasn't feeling any ill effects this time, but he probably would if she continued.

"I do remember," she finally answered. "But it has been less than a day. And we were intimate much more recently. The variables are quite different. The danger to you is minimal."

"Maybe," he said calmly. "But it's also entirely possible that the more intense our bond is, the harder it will be on me to be separated from you."

She looked down at their intertwined hands, thinking.

"Do you not trust me anymore?"

Her eyes met his. "I do. Completely."

"Then why shut me out?"

She seemed hesitant to answer him. Trip considered all the variables, and a possibility occurred to him. "Does Koss have something to do with this?"

She sucked in a quick breath.

"So that's a yes," he concluded. "And you're trying to protect me from it." He studied her profile, and her jaw tensed. "And maybe you're thinkin' that you're preparin' me, just in case you have to leave me."

She looked at him again, the fear lighting fire in her eyes.

"And my guess would be, it's also somehow tied up with your mom losin' her job."

Her spine lost its stiffness, and her fingers trembled against his. She looked away, but she didn't let go of his hand. "Koss's uncle is the head of the security ministry. The investigation will end if I marry him. It will continue if I do not."

Trip felt the proverbial trap spring shut. "So your mom could face criminal charges."

"Yes."

"Damn it."

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A/N: I always thought T'Pol's reason for marrying Koss in the show didn't really hold up. I thought he and his family needed some additional teeth for them to be a true threat. Hopefully I'm not tipping (too much farther) into the melodramatic. Honestly it's hard not to make Koss a mustache-twirling, 2-D villain. I hate the guy that much. Almost as much as I hate Riker's "Chef" in TATV. **shudder**

Thank you to everyone who has read, favorited, followed and reviewed! I hope you're not too mad at me for putting y'all through the emotional wringer. But I think the Koss storyline, as much as I hated it in the show, deserves some serious treatment. Good news-the next chapter is fully written and the one (or maybe two) after that are nearly complete. They're also longer than these last two have been. I'm hoping to post regularly until we reach the end. Yay!