The final chapter. Thanks for hanging in there with me. Enjoy.

Chapter 22: The Logic of emotion.

T'Les

As a mother she knew it was the duty of a parent to direct her children. It is logical for children to return to the family seat, to be guided by their parents. Youth lends itself to emotion. Parents are able to see more carefully the emotional traps of life altering decisions, like a career or a mate.

Five days ago she had thought she had cause to question her daughter's logic. Had detected an emotionality about T'Pol that was not entirely Vulcan. Had been disturbed by T'Pol's lack of logic. She had been positive then, that the course she had set for her daughter was the correct one. She had miscalculated severely. She had not, she acknowledged, been in possession of all the pertinent facts. There was information she had learned, even today, that would have altered her perspective had she known it a week ago. But there were also things she had learned, that only her daughter could have taught her. It is logical to accept that one never stops learning.

The week had been a difficult one. The cause of many emotions to be suppressed. But she had discovered an emotional aspect to her relationship with her daughter that was difficult to contain. Her daughter's distress had been impossible to ignore.

It had been difficult to accept that one could be presented with several options and find none of them acceptable. There had been a certain amount of relief when Solas had confirmed, in some matters, emotions were logical. Bonds, he had told her, were emotional in their basic structure. Were there was no emotion, there would be no bond. The other piece of information he had disclosed had been more than acceptable. Her daughter had a mate who would be a source of great fulfilment.

Events were transpiring in a far more adequate manner than she could have possibly anticipated the previous day. Really, it was quite satisfactory. That her daughter had suffered years under an illness that was so easily cured was not ideal. The irony being, that had it been cured earlier, there was a high likelihood that, due to her bond with the human, she would have died today. The Commander had shown himself to be a worthy mate, prepared against the odds, to fight to the death for her, prepared to defend her honour.

The groom's last minute withdrawal from the wedding had presented an excellent opportunity to resolve one last problem. Aside from the, admittedly satisfying, way in which Commander Tucker had expressed his displeasure at Koss' insult to T'Pol, there was also the issue of her position at the Science Academy. As the party who had terminated the betrothal contract, Koss and his family were required to provide reparations to the bride's family. The only reason T'Pol had been prepared to go forward with the wedding was to bring about the reinstatement of T'Les position at the Science Academy, so that was all she had asked for. Kurak had agreed quickly, protracted negotiations usually only resulted in the bride's family asking for more. T'Les saw no reason to ask for more. It was illogical to be petty.

She led T'Khet to the house. When she had first become interested in the Syrranites it had been in an effort to understand her daughter's emotions, that were always apparent, just below the surface. Now that association would save her daughter's life. The strange logic of chance.

As she walked into the main room she noticed Commander Tucker, talking to someone by the windows. The Commander's face was a very strange shade of red and he seemed reluctant to look at the other person. It wasn't until she noticed his companion was Korrick, that she understood his unusual body language. No doubt Korrick was taking this opportunity to investigate a topic of great academic interest to him. She considered that she should, perhaps, rescue Commander Tucker, then decided against it. If he was going to marry a Vulcan, logic dictated he should learn to navigate these kinds of awkward conversations.

Koss

His nose hurt, and he had a headache.

The events of the day had been unexpected. He thought of T'Pol, her beautiful face and well proportioned body. He had looked forward to possessing them, but the loss was not a great source of emotion. His father had been intent on pursuing the betrothal and he had gone along with it because he appreciated the visual logic of beautiful things and it was tradition. He had been prepared to overlook her somewhat unVulcan nature. He saw it as a challenge to bring her back to logic. He did not experience regret at ending the betrothal. Pa'nar syndrome took a terrible toll on the body, she would not keep her looks and in his assessment she had deviated to far from logic to be redeemed.

He would need to find a new mate. There was quite an attractive girl working at the Public Works Directory. She was younger but had lost her betrothed in a tragic accident. She seemed quiet and not at all emotional or rebellious like T'Pol. It was a logical plan, he would talk to his father.

He sat back in the hovercar and tried to ignore the fact that his nose hurt and his head ached.

Kurak

His son was a fool. All he cared about were aesthetics and tradition. Lines and curves and how they intersected and things the way they had always been done. He had no concept of politics, of the necessity of building alliances, creating dependencies, holding leverage. Kurak was a political creature, he saw the logic of power and influence. He held a position of consequence in the High Command, but gave them no loyalty. He was loyal to himself.

He was well aware of T'Les' Syrrannite associations and he had seen the marriage between Koss and T'Pol as a way to organise his situation so multiple options were available to him. Some of the decisions of the High Command had been of questionable logic and many Vulcans were starting to question their rationale. There was a chance the High Command would miscalculate and lose their grip on power. Kurak had seen the logic of having subtle links to groups that were in opposition to the High Command. Getting T'Les back her position was no hardship for him, he had held the evidence to do so all the time. It had been a logical tool to bring about a planned alliance. It was regrettable that his son was a fool.

Trip

Trip was in hell. It was hot, that's for sure, but that's not what made it hell. Hell was being interviewed about your sex life at a Vulcan wedding. Hell was being asked the number of sexual partners you'd had and if that was above or below average for a male your age. Hell was being asked the duration of each sexual encounter, and if copulation only occurs once per encounter or multiple times. Hell was being asked the process by which you select sexual partners and if it differs from the method of choosing a spouse. Hell was a conversation with Yorrick/Derrick/Carrot/whatever his name is. Right at that second Trip wished he had fought a battle to the death. Death would have been better than this hell.

He noticed T'Les enter the house with another Vulcan woman. He was pretty sure T'Les saw him. He begged her with his eyes, he concentrated all his mental powers and tried to telepathically implore her to save him from hell. She kept walking, straight to T'Pol's bedroom. He was sure he saw her lips twitch and her eyes sparkle. It was pretty clear where T'Pol got her sense of humour.

Trip stuttered and stammered through a further 10 agonising minutes before T'Les returned and finally rescued him.

"Korrick, I must interrupt your conversation as I need to consult with Commander Tucker on an important matter."

Korrick! That was his name. Trip made a mental note avoid future encounters with him on pain of death. "Korrick, it was nice meeting you." Trip, flustered , stuck out his hand again.

The Vulcan looked at his outstretched hand with a raised eyebrow and gave a small bow "Commander Charles Tucker the third, it was an enlightening conversation. I look forward to continuing it in the future."

Trip, dropped his hand and his eyes widened "um, yeah, sure." Trip realised his human manners had condemned him, the horror, the unmitigated horror.

T'Les led him off the the south of the house where his bedroom was. As she walked she gave him a piece of advice he could have sorely used twenty minutes before.

"Commander, Vulcans are not skilled at reading the emotional cues, that humans present, which would indicate discomfort at discussing certain topics. If you are asked a question you are not comfortable answering, simply advise them it is a private matter. You need not fear offending Vulcans with that truth."

Trip was ninety percent sure she was laughing at him. "Good to know, thanks."

"T'Khet is performing a mind meld to correct T'Pol's neuroelectric imbalance." She began

He started, "A mind meld, isn't that what got her into this trouble in the first place! I thought mind melds were deviant behaviour."

T'Les eyebrows went up. "All Vulcans have the capacity to perform mind melds. It is the current administration that has, for their own reasons, declared them unnatural."

Trip felt like a two year old who'd just had his bottom smacked.

T'Les narrowed her eyes at him. "You were aware it was considered a deviant practice but you defended T'Pol when Koss accused her of being a melder. I am uncertain of your motivation."

"Uh." Trip got the feeling he was about to reveal something he shouldn't but forged on anyway. "T'Pol didn't exactly, completely... consent to the meld that infected her."

T'Les stopped suddenly, her hand on the handle of the bedroom door, took a deep breath, closed her eyes and let it out. Trip got the very strong feeling he was looking upon Vulcan rage. She opened her eyes and regarded Trip blankly "I see." Was all she said. There was a mother tiger crouched in those two little words.

She opened the door and led him into the bedroom. "You should rest. T'Pol will need to meditate after the meld. It will be some time before the the day's proceedings can conclude."

"What proceedings, I thought the wedding was off."

T'Les gave him an enigmatic look. "The wedding to Koss has been terminated. Solas has informed me of another matter and suggests a ceremony would be advisable. We shall talk more when T'Pol is well." She gave him a strange look again. "You should meditate, it has been an emotional day." She paused, "I believe we should all meditate."

The room was hot, but not unbearably - by Vulcan standards. Vulcan homes were designed to stay relatively cool in comparison to the outdoor temperature, but to humans it was pretty close to the temperature of the crater of an active volcano. Trip stripped off his robes, put on a pair of gym shorts and set the climate controls to 'atmosphere of Mercury' as opposed to 'surface of the sun'. He set himself down on the meditation pillow in the room, focussed on the hum of the climate control condenser and entered his meditative space.

T'Pol had taught him well and he opened his eyes in the space he had constructed in his mind. He looked around, feeling the peace that came to him in this mental space. He closed his eyes again and focused on the thrum of the machine. He did not think of Koss and the simmering rage he still felt towards him. He did not ponder the ceremony T'Les had alluded to. He did not fear another conversation with Korrick. He did not feel the slight ache in his hand. He did not worry about T'Pol and the mind meld. He felt only stillness.

"Why are we in the engine room on Enterprise". T'Pol's voice cut through the soothing hum.

Trip's eyes snapped open. T'Pol was sitting opposite him on top of the Enterprise warp drive, still dressed in the purple wedding robes.

He shook his head, as if trying to clear his mind. He shut his eyes and opened them again. She was still there.

"How are you here?" He finally asked. "This is in my mind. This is where I go, in my mind, when I meditate.

Korrick

It had been a fascinating discussion. He was surprised the human had been so open about discussing things which would be considered quite private to Vulcans. He had even agreed to continue the conversation at a later time. There seemed to be a connection between the human and T'Les' daughter. Perhaps he could arrange a meeting with the human next time they visited Vulcan.

Fessick

It had been an interesting wedding so far. He often attended ceremonies in his capacity as a physician, but, in these logical times, there was rarely a role for him. To treat three people at one wedding, that made it interesting.

The human was a strange creature. Fragile, he would not have survived a kal-if-fee if he broke his hand on the first punch. But also illogical, Fessick had sensed the alien's strange amusement directed at him and he seemed to speak nonsense. When Fessick had assured him that Koss would not suffer permanent damage the alien had smiled and said "he seemed a decent fellow, I'd hate to kill him." And the amusement had surged through him. When Fessick had told the human he would experience some pain in his injured hand while it healed, he had responded "Life is pain, anyone who says otherwise is obviously selling something!".

Yes, a strange, illogical creature. But not an unsatisfactory wedding.

T'Pol

T'Pol lay on her bed and felt... odd. The whole week she had felt as if her soul were trying to break out of her body. She had been overwhelmed with panic, rage and despair. Nothing she had done had assuaged it. Sometimes it was as if her katra would not allow her to live as long as she went along with wedding. Now it was all gone as if it had never existed in the first place. It was.. strange. A week of uncontrollable emotion, then... nothing.

Except the Pa'nar. She looked at her hand. The slight tremble was still there. According to Trip, her mother knew a procedure to cure it. That seemed, unlikely. Surely if it were that easy, everyone would be cured.

She lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling. She she had not slept properly for five days, but she was not tired. She had barely eaten since she had arrived, but she was not hungry. She hadn't mediated properly for days, but she was not emotional. She just wanted... Trip. So she lay, and stared at the ceiling.

After about ten minutes the door opened and T'Les entered with another Vulcan woman.

"This is T'Khet, she will cure your Pa'nar syndrome." There was no need for niceties, they were all Vulcan.

T'Pol sat up looking from her mother to T'Khet. "How will she do that Mother, it is my understanding that there is no cure for Pa'nar Syndrome."

"That is a lie, perpetrated by the High Command. Pa'nar is caused by improperly practised melds. A well trained practitioner, with the appropriate level of experience, can correct the imbalance."

"T'Khet will meld with me?" T'Pol kept her fear suppressed. It would not be appropriate for a stranger to see it.

"Yes, she has spent the last four years training with a master." T'Les informed her.

T'Pol's eyebrows went up. She got the feeling she was about to learn something about her mother. "Where does one find a master melder, considering the stigma attached to the practice?"

T'Les' expression did not change. "Amongst the Syrranites. Melding was a common practice during Surak's time."

"I see." T'Pol was not sure how to greet this news, which seemed to suggest her mother had connections to the fringe group.

T'Khet spoke for the first time since entering the room. "Do you consent to the meld, T'Pol?"

She hesitated, she could not help it. It was logical to avoid a procedure that had, in the past, been the cause of such distress. She looked at T'Les who was regarding her expressionlessly. She realised that she would find nothing in her mother's face to guide her, once upon a time she would not have even looked, her time amongst humans had changed her. In the end she realised it was logical to put her trust in her mother. T'Les would avoid harming her.

She nodded her head to T'Khet. "I consent."

Initially T'Pol resisted her presence, but T'Khet did not push, waiting for T'Pol's logic to overcome her fear. It was nothing like the invasion by Tolaris. T'Khet's mind was cool and focused. Tolaris had been undisciplined, like mould invading everywhere and sending hyphae beneath the surface. He had pushed into places no one was welcome, memories even T'Pol didn't like to enter. T'Khut did not stray off the path. She went only where she needed to be. She still learned much about T'Pol and T'Pol could feel her surprise, her interest and then at the core of the damage, her sympathy, when she discovered it's cause. But there was no judgement, T'Khet was a healer.

When it was over. T'Pol felt cleaner, lighter as if there had been some weight dragging on her mind, that had been there so long she hadn't noticed it until it was gone. She felt something else, more specifically, someone else, Trip. The implications were clear to her immediately, they were bonded. She realised he had been there all along, but her mind had been to polluted to differentiate his consciousness from her own. It was an extremely satisfying revelation. It also, she realised, explained her unpredictable behaviour over the past week. It had been the bond, fighting against her marriage to Koss, that had disrupted her meditation, sleep and appetite.

She opened her eyes to find T'Khet regarding her expressionlessly. "You should meditate." T'Khet told her. "It will help balance your enzymes and settle your hormones to normal levels. As the damage heals you will sense the bond more and more." T'Khet paused, considering whether to say more. "It is a strong bond, you are fortunate in your mate."

T'Pol nodded, she was fortunate. She lit her meditation candle, settled onto the cushion and slid straight into a deep meditative state. When she opened her eyes, expecting her white space, she was somewhat surprised to find herself, somewhere else entirely, sitting opposite Trip.

"Why are we in the engine room on Enterprise". She asked him.

T'Khet

It had been a disturbing meld.

When she had begun her training at the Forge with Syrran, her only thought had been for the sufferers of Pa'Nar Syndrome. The strange prejudice that had grown in Vulcan society against melding and those who practised it had puzzled her. She had rebelled against the illogic of ignoring the infected. She had never encountered one whose meld had been forced on her. Whose mind had been invaded telepathically not once, but twice.

She had felt T'Pol's fear as soon as she began the meld. To T'Khet it had simply seemed logical to fear something that had already been the cause of suffering. She had given T'Pol a moment, time to suppress the fear. It had worked to a certain extent, T'Pol did not resist the meld, but the fear had remained, infecting her mind as much as the Pa'nar had. The memory, the trauma, had been buried deep, T'Khet had almost been overwhelmed by the emotion it aroused. Fortunately her training had been thorough.

T'Pol's experiment with trellium had been there too. It had been an intriguing experience. T'Khet could discern, through T'Pol's bond, that the effect of the low doses of trellium was similar to the way humans experience their emotions. She had to agree with T'Pol, it was a seductive feeling. T'Pol could not have known that her Pa'nar syndrome made managing her emotions more difficult. With no where else to put excess emotions when they became overwhelming, trellium had probably seemed like a logical solution.

There was also the human. He had been there, if course, in every corner of T'Pol's mind. His laughter, his compassion, his intelligence, his passion. The emotions he stirred in T'Pol still lingered with T'Khet. She thought of her own betrothed, he had terminated the agreement with her when he had learned of her association with the Syrranites. It had not provoked her emotions at the time. The attachment had not been strong. She had been confident that someone else would come along, it did not really matter who. Now she wondered if it did matter. It would be difficult to forget the perfect feeling of being at one with another. The strange logic of emotions. Perhaps she should speak with Solas.

Yes, it had been a disturbing meld. In its aftermath she felt hyper-aware of her own body, the feeling of her clothes against her skin, the memories, not her own, of a man's hands and mouth and body. She must meditate.

Trip and T'Pol

Trip look at T'Pol, confusion written all over his face. They were both standing on top of the warp core, in his mental version of engineering. "I thought you said we couldn't bond, because I was human."

"I had assumed that was the case because of your lack of telepathic skills, I was convinced a bond was telepathic in nature. It seems I was mistaken."

"Why now, what's changed."

"I believe the Pa'nar syndrome must have impaired my telepathic abilities. Now the imbalance has been corrected the telepathic aspects of the bond are beginning to open up. I could sense you in my mind as soon as the meld was finished."

He stuck his tongue in his cheek. "Will I be able to sense you too?"

"I am not certain, try."

He stood for a minute concentrating. The feeling he'd always had when they meditated was still there. "Well, I can still feel you, I suppose it's stronger than it was before."

Her eyebrows went up. "Still? You could feel me before?"

"Sure, when we meditated, I could always feel you. It's kind of hard to explain." He shrugged a shoulder. "I figured it was normal, because you were telepathic. I could always tell when you couldn't reach a deep meditative state. That's why I was bugging you all week. I knew you weren't getting there."

T'Pol took some time to process the information. She leaned forward and kissed him. "It is not normal, that was the bond." She thought for a minute.

"Have you had any other experiences that seemed similar?"

He ran a hand through his hair. "Um, yeah. Sometimes, when we... make love, I kind of feel like I'm.. outside my body at the same time, you know, looking at myself. Sometimes I know what you're feeling. But I figured I was just subconsciously reading your fleeting expressions."

She tipped her head and blinked rapidly a few times. "There have been times, when you seem to have, deduced things about me, this has given me cause to wonder if you have some telepathic skills. Perhaps this was also the bond."

He smiled at her, and reached out and took her hand. "It feels kind of strange having this conversation on top of the warp core. Perhaps we could come out of meditation and speak in person."

"That will not be necessary." As she spoke the space around them began to blur and change. Trip looked around. They were standing in front of a set of large, floor to ceiling windows, looking over a redwood covered mountain side. Wisps of mist clung to the trees in the valleys, but the morning sun streamed over them. It was the bedroom of the mountain cabin near Guerneville.

Trip grinned at her. "That's a pretty neat trick."

The corners of her mouth twitched. Trip could feel her smile. "I have very satisfactory memories of this room, it was not very difficult to recreate it my mind."

He gave her a wicked grin. "I have some pretty good memories myself." He closed the distance between them, took her face between his hands and kissed her. She responded instantly. Wrapping her arms around his waist, one slipping beneath the waistband of his shorts, the other sliding under the hem of his tank top.

He lifted his mouth of hers. "You know," he said as he began to trail kisses along her jaw and along her neck. "I've been wondering all day what kind of underwear a Vulcan bride wears on her wedding day." As he said it his fingers found the the zip at the back of her dress and eased it down. He slid the dress off her shoulders and watched it pool around her feet. He burst out laughing.

She stood before him, a slight green tint on her cheeks, wearing the oldest, ugliest bra and undies, that he had ever seen. "They are perfectly serviceable and as my wedding was to be in name only, it was illogical to wear anything special. It is not as though I had any intention that Koss would ever see them." She told him, a slight hint of rebellion in her voice.

He realised her choice of under garment was a kind of protest against her wedding, he loved it. "Well," He said as he reached around and undid the clasp on the bra "I can confidently say you would look better out of these than in them." He threw the offending bra across the room, knelt at her feet, and started to slide the awful undies down her hips. As he did so a new thought occurred to him. He looked up at her, slightly nervous, his hands still resting on her her hips under the elastic of her panties.

"I hope you change into some slightly more enticing underwear before you marry me."

She looked down at him, understanding his meaning immediately, she placed a hand on the side of his face. "It does seem logical to make use of the priest, given that he is already here to perform a wedding service."

He grinned up at her. "Is that a yes?"

She raised an eyebrow. "You have not asked me a question."

He raised a leg so he was on one knee and took one of her hands in both of his. "T'Pol of Vulcan, will you do me the honour of marrying me, here, today?"

"Yes."

He stood up and kissed her. She returned the kiss, grabbing the hem of his shirt and sliding it up, urging him towards the bed. His legs hit the edge of the bed and she had his shorts and underwear down in one swift pull. In one movement he stepped out of them, swung her round and pushed so she fell back on the bed her legs dangling over the edge.

"I think it's time we got these off you." He laughed as he pulled the ugly undies off her and threw them in the direction of the bra. She began inching back on the bed and he crawled after her, sliding over her body, grabbing both her hands and pinning them above her head. "Now, I want you to promise me I will never see those underwear again." He told her, his mouth just above hers.

She lifted her head and gave him a hard kiss. "As you wish." She said into his mouth.

True to her word, later that day, when Trip got to strip the clothes off his new bride, in real life this time, the offending underwear were nowhere to be seen. He was rather pleasantly surprised to find that no underwear, of any kind, were to be seen.

Solas

Solas watched as the groom struck the gong a third time and stepped back. The bride moved forward without delay and stood opposite her mate. They knelt together and touched their two extended fingers. Their strange, luminescent Katra settled around them. Once again, Solas mused, his talents would be wasted. Not because he could not join the couple, simply because he could not join them more than they already were.

Yes, T'Pri would be very satisfied with the recounting of these events.

He spoke the ancient words.

"What ye are about to witness comes down from the time of the beginning without change. This is the Vulcan heart. This is the Vulcan soul. This is our way."

The End