Disclaimer: See Chapter 1
Rating: PG-13 - there's an even more - intense version of this chapter at Tris in decon.
A/N: So, finally the last chapter arrives. Thanks to Crystalswolf and Lady Rainbow for betaing, and Aquarius for proposing a word challenge that gave me a framework for this story, as well as her advise on how to do the ghost sequence. Now, on to the sequel to Family Secrets.
T'Pol's arms were around Trip's neck as he carried her up the stairs of T'Les's house, which was now hers. She breathed in and out, enjoying his human scent mixed with the familiar Vulcan air. His breathing was labored, as his ability to lift her had been compromised by the planet's gravity.
"This is unnecessary," she said, "I could have made it up the stairs myself."
Trip didn't say a word as he carried her into the large, master bedroom, which he had already prepared for her arrival. He laid her down gently and helped her slip under the silken covers.
"You heard the doctors. They think you could get vertigo while climbing stairs, they don't want you to risk a fall. So, it's bed rest and no stairs for the next two weeks," he replied while tucking her in.
She raised her eyebrow at him. "I was asleep for two days, and I was in the hospital for eight more" she said, "I do not require more rest."
Trip brushed a hair out of her face and smiled. "Now, tell me how is it logical to ignore doctors orders? The doctors say that your neural pathways heal while you're asleep, and they need more healing. So, you're going to be on a regimen of rest, sleep and meditation. . .with a little neuropressure thrown in for good measure."
T'Pol sat back on the pillows and folded her arms. Trip slumped down in the chair near the window. He appeared to need more rest than she.
"I will need to get downstairs tomorrow," she stated.
"Valrick said he'd perform the ceremony up stairs if you weren't feeling up to being carried downstairs," replied Trip smoothly.
"I'll be up for it," she said, "I don't wish to be married in my bedroom."
"We're already married," replied Trip in a pleased-with-himself tone.
He was correct. As far as Vulcan was concerned, they were married. But a ceremony was required to make the Earth license Trip had obtained for them valid.
"Have you sent the Captain a message yet?"
Trip bit his lip. "Still working on that one. I doubt it will come as a surprise to him, but I'm going to wait until the ceremony is done and the license filed. I don't want him to take any heat for not trying to stop us."
T'Pol sighed. Starfleet did not normally require its personnel to report nuptials, but their situation was different. Their marriage was bound to present diplomatic and political complications for Jonathan Archer, and they both were prepared for Starfleet either removing them from duty on Enterprise or attempting to separate them. If Starfleet did the latter, they were both ready to resign their commissions. What they would do after that, they hadn't decided. Trip had insisted they would be welcome in Mississippi near his parents, and they had T'Les's house as well.
T'Pol looked around the room that had been her mother and father's. The fact that this room now belonged to Trip and herself was odd, or as Trip would have said, bittersweet. She had had most of her mother's things packed away into storage but a few aesthetically pleasing items remained: a vase, a hand mirror, an image of one of her foremothers. These things made the room feel familiar, like home. She knew it was unlikely she and Trip would spend much time here, but she hoped eventually he too would see the house as his home. She wondered briefly what the room would look like after they had occupied it for many years.
"A penny for your thoughts," said Trip.
She looked at him puzzled by the obvious idiom. He smiled. "What are you thinking? It's an expression. A penny is a small, old-fashioned coin."
"I remember seeing the term referenced in English language literature. It had little value."
Trip sighed "That's the irony of the expression. . .my grandma used to say that. I don't think she'd ever seen a penny outside a museum."
"I will give you my thoughts without payment," said T'Pol, her voice teasing, "I was wondering what this room will look like after we have lived here for a significant amount of time."
Trip looked around the room. "There'll be more stuff. I'll bring some stuff from Earth next time we come. Paper engineering books. Pictures of my family."
T'Pol closed her eyes. As illogical as it was, she imagined the room with a mixture of Human and Vulcan possessions and, to her surprise, children's toys. Not the logic puzzles traditionally given to Vulcan children, but the kind of dolls and plush animals she'd seen human children covet. The images were pleasing.
She attempted to open her eyes, but they fluttered and closed again. She inhaled a deep breath and drifted off to sleep.
Trip surveyed the garden and the chairs he had set up around a makeshift alter. Much like Elizabeth's funeral, Valrick had suggested Trip add a few human touches to the ceremony. To that end, he had put candles on the altar and tied flowers to the back of each chair. He had also obtained a set of simple rings from a local jeweler, who had raised an eyebrow when Trip explained their purpose.
Trip regretted telling the jeweler the truth, and he wasn't sure why he had. Even though they pretended to be above such things, Vulcans could prove as gossipy as his grandma's quilting friends. News of the wedding would get around, of that Trip was certain.
He and T'Pol had decided to keep their marriage quiet, making no formal announcement either on Vulcan or Earth and telling only select family, friends and Starfleet. The events of Terra Prime had made their relationship a symbol to those both supportive and opposed to them. Neither T'Pol nor Trip wanted that. They just wished to live their lives in peace, without the pressure of symbolizing anything.
Yet, deep down, Trip wondered if he had told the jeweler the truth because he wanted people to know. He was proud of the fact that together, he and T'Pol, had not let the bigotry and insanity of Terra Prime tear them apart. Part of him wanted people to know that.
His thoughts came back to the present as he heard faint footsteps at the top of the garden stairs, which lead to the main house.
Valrick appeared at the top, wearing formal robes. For himself, Trip had chosen to wear the same human suit he had worn to Elizabeth's funeral, rather than dress like a Vulcan. He hadn't said anything to T'Pol, but he wanted this small ceremony to be as different as could be from the last wedding he had attended on Vulcan.
T'Pol, thankfully, hadn't invited any of her distant relatives to the wedding. She hadn't said anything, but Trip had gotten the impression that most of them didn't approve of the annulment from Koss, never mind what they would have thought of her taking a human mate.
As far as Trip knew, Valrick, the engineer from his ship and a couple of the other monks would be the only guests. However, this proved incorrect. At the top of the garden stairs, Trip saw Soval . . .and to his shock, T'Pau standing there.
The new leader of Vulcan descended the garden stairs, looking serene and stern at the same time, something Trip still thought was a pretty neat trick. He gave her the Vulcan salute, which she returned.
"I didn't even know you knew about today," said Trip to both of his surprise guests.
T'Pau raised her eyebrow. "Valrick has kept me informed of your situation. My condolences on the death of your daughter. I also wish you and your mate well."
"Thank you on both counts," replied Trip formally, still curious as to why the leader of Vulcan would take the time to attend a ceremony that was ultimately a human legal formality.
"I wished to express to Starfleet and the United Earth Government my support of your union. My presence as one of the official witnesses should articulate that," replied T'Pau as though she had read his mind.
Trip wondered briefly if she had read his mind, but then he figured she probably just logic-ed out what he'd been thinking. For himself, he wondered why T'Pau would support the marriage between a human and a Vulcan. He knew better than to assume it was out of kindness. Somehow, it fit her agenda that he and T'Pol had married each other.
He made a mental note to ask his wife if she knew. "Good to see you, Soval," said Trip.
"Likewise, Commander," replied Soval, whose face was placid. His eyes, however, were warm, "I'm pleased I could witness today's events."
At least, thought Trip, I believe Soval is happy for us.
Later that afternoon, Trip carried a tired but radiant T'Pol down the garden stairs. To his pleasure, she chose to wear simple Vulcan robes but in white rather than purple. The silk shimmered in the afternoon sun, and she had tied her hair back with a matching scarf. She moved slowly, but she was able to walk with him down the short aisle under her own power.
T'Pau, Soval and several of the monks from the ship witnessed the ceremony, which included vows in both Vulcan and in English. Valrick officiated and Trip thought he sensed both satisfaction and mischief from the old monk as he electronically signed the license and transmitted it to the human embassy and to Earth with the electronic signatures of the bride, groom, Soval and T'Pau. Under the circumstances, it would be very difficult for anyone to claim the ceremony had not taken place or wasn't legally witnessed.
Afterwards, the small party left the bride and groom alone. T'Pol was still recovering, and receptions weren't part of the Vulcan tradition. If Trip wanted a party, he'd throw one on Enterprise in a few months.
Instead, Trip had carried her up the garden stairs and into the living room, where he intended to spend a quiet evening with his wife.
Trip and T'Pol sat across from one another in two big chairs in front of the window, drinking a bottle of Napa Valley white wine that had been in the house since their previous visit. He had taken off his jacket, and she had taken off her shoes and taken the scarf off her head. T'Pol looked serene, staring out at the desert sunset, as if it were any other day. Some of the bronze color had even returned to her cheeks.
Trip inhaled, and his heart started to beat nervously. They'd done it. There wasn't any turning back. Starfleet would know soon enough, as would the Captain. Come what may, he and T'Pol had made things official.
"So, Mrs. Tucker," he asked, "How do you want to spend your wedding night?" Truthfully, he expected to carry her up to bed so she could sleep.
"I thought humans traditionally engaged in sexual relations on their wedding night. This serves to make the marriage fully legal, doesn't it?" she replied.
Trip grinned and bit his lip. "Most brides aren't suffering from neural trauma. The doctors said you need rest. We'll consummate the marriage when you're feeling better."
Her face remained placid. "The doctors also advised us to work toward strengthening the bond, as it will speed my recovery. Sexual relations will strengthen our bond."
Trip sensed a streak of that Vulcan stubbornness in her. She intended to get what she wanted, and he wasn't inclined to say no to his bride. Nor was he inclined to hurt her either. It was a puzzler. He sat back in his chair and thought about what to do.
She glanced over at him, eyebrow raised and still sipping the wine. Meanwhile, Trip formulated a plan in his head. One he was suddenly looking very forward to carrying out. He inhaled a slow breath and sipped his wine until it was finished, and he leaned forward and set down his glass.
"Normally," he said, "Our relations can get a little. . .vigorous, darlin'. But maybe if we both show a little restraint, somethin' can be worked out."
She nodded in acknowledgment, "How so?"
"You'll have to follow my lead, do as I say - and not do anything that will raise your heart rate too much or give you vertigo. In other words, we take it slow. Real slow."
She looked at him, clearly fascinated. "Shall we go upstairs, then?" she asked.
Trip shook his head as he stood up. He took her glass from her and helped her to her feet. He led her to the soft, woven rug in front of the fireplace and helped her down to her knees. As the sun had set, the temperature had dropped enough so Trip turned on the fire, albeit to a low setting. The flames not only heated up the room, they bathed it in an ethereal light that made his wife look breathtaking.
"You wish to have sexual relations in the living room?" she asked, a green blush appearing at her cheeks.
"I sure do," he replied as he got to his knees as well, "The tile on the kitchen floor isn't that comfortable. . . And carrying you up stairs in this gravity zaps my energy. And I'm going to have to do most of the work. . ." his voice trailed off as his finger traced her jaw.
Her eyes widened, and she glanced over at the stairs, almost longingly. He didn't even need the bond to know that sex on the living room rug wasn't very Vulcan, but she wasn't married to a Vulcan, now was she?
"Now, remember," he whispered as his hands moved to the sash at her waist, "You won't exert yourself."
She inhaled and closed her eyes as he unfastened her garment and pulled it over her head. To his delight, he discovered she wasn't wearing anything beneath her robes. Part of him still wanted to put the breaks on and make her get some rest, but that part of him was no match for desire that had gripped him. The bond, now unfettered by resistance, flowed between them as they shared all the intense emotions of the past weeks.
Afterwards, he cradled her in his arms and whispered into her eye how much he loved her and how he intended to take care of her and see that she got well and strong. Eventually, he felt strong enough to carry her upstairs where they both were able to sleep peacefully, secure in the bond that could not be broken. Whatever the future held, whatever Starfleet, Earth or the Vulcans were going to throw at them, they both knew they would face it together.