Disclaimer: See the previous 30 chapters.

Rating: PG. No smut, violence or swearing.

A/N: You can't end a big, long romance adventure without a wedding, can you? The role of Chef will be played by David Sedaris. That's who I picture him looking like here.

Epilogue

T'Pol surveyed the nearly empty mess hall, which had been decorated in red and white flowers from the garden. A long table, covered by a white cloth, was set up in the corner and would soon offer up a large buffet of delicacies from many worlds. Her brother, who was still furious with the Vulcans, had requested that no Vulcan food be served at the wedding, but she had decided that wouldn't support his cover identity. So, several Vulcan dishes were to be on the menu.

The whole crew had been invited to what was going to be a double wedding. Most people had been thrilled when they heard Lt. Sato and Lt. Commander Reed had decided to marry, and then they were curious to discover that the ship's two Vulcan guests were also going to be married during the same celebration.

The fact that Lt. Commander Reed and Lt. Sato had invited the Vulcans to share in their celebration only fueled the ship's gossip machine about the mysterious Tirak and his bride Ravel.

T'Pol had been informed of all the gossip by Hoshi and Malcolm, who along with Trip and Phlox, were the only members of the crew who knew who their Vulcan guests really were. The official story read that Starfleet had hired the Tirak, who was a former V'tosh Ka'tur, as a consultant on no-man's land planets and that due to Vulcan marriage laws, he had been able to bring his fiance along on the mission.

However, rumors and speculation about the Vulcan guests had gripped the crew. One rumor stated that he was a V'Shar agent and had been behind enemy lines and actually seen Romulans. Another rumor was that he was somehow related to Commander T'Pol — certainly, several people had noticed the resemblance between the two, a resemblance that couldn't be explained away by the fact that they were both Vulcans. One member of the crew had claimed to hear her refer to him as "brother" but another had suggested that the fraternal designation might be the way Vulcans refer to one another when away from the planet — or indicate that they are simply members of the same clan. Another rumor said that Tirak had never left the V'tosh Ka'Tur - and several people had claimed to see him smile and eat meat. His fiance, however, seemed to be the perfect Vulcan, serene and emotionless.

Chef stood at one side of the table, his eyes surveying where each dish would be placed. A six tiered traditional human cake wedding cake sat on a small side table. The base frosting was white, and Bowers had helped him match the color of his sugared roses to the real roses by providing him with the genome for the flowers she was using for the decor.

"I wish I had known there would be two couples," said Chef snippily to T'Pol as he examined the cake, "I would have made a second cake."

T'Pol glanced over at the Chef. He had complained loudly the previous day about not having time to make the first one.

"The Vulcans have no need for a cake," replied T'Pol smoothly, "They will attend the reception for a short time and then retire to their quarters for meditation."

Chef turned around and looked at T'Pol. So did Bowers, who was across the room and standing on a step stool and affixing some roses to the trellis where the ceremonies were to take place.

"Is that what they are calling it these days?" asked the Chef, who was notoriously forthright in his opinions.

"Vulcans really meditate on their wedding nights?" asked Bowers from her perch.

Bowers tone was less intrusive than the Chef's, but she seemed just as eager for information.

T'Pol nodded, though she doubted the meditation would be on the agenda for her brother and Ravel. The Chef put his hands on his hips, and he rolled his eyes.

"Are you telling me that you and the Captain meditated on your wedding night?"

T'Pol raised her eyebrow. Chef knew his value to the morale of the ship, and he was the only crew member who would have dared to ask her such a personal question. However, T'Pol had no intention of answering.

"Well," said the Chef as he turned his attention back to the cake, "That would be an awful waste of . . .time, Commander. If I had been lucky enough to marry the Captain, there would be no meditating, that's for sure."

T'Pol blinked at the Chef, secretly flattered and glad her expression gave away the non-traditional way she and Trip had spent their wedding night on Vulcan.

"I'm glad I'm not Vulcan," laughed Bowers, "No offense, Commander."

"None taken, Crewman," said T'Pol.

T'Pol headed back to her quarters to change for the wedding. In her hand, she held a PADD. On it were the certified Earth marriage licenses for Hoshi and Malcolm and Ravel and Enme. The latter license had been transmitted with the bride and groom's birthplaces redacted and their races listed under the ancient term — vuhlkantra. T'Pol wanted to be certain everything on the license was truthful, so no court could declare it invalid. Admiral Archer had been kind enough to transmit the document to Earth's Central Records database, asking that it be kept top secret but officially filed.

T'Pol tapped the PADD and hurried off. The sooner the ceremonies happened, and she could send addenda indicating that to the Earth's Central Records Database, and the better she would feel.

****

Five hours later, Trip sipped on a glass of champagne and looked around at the crowded mess hall and smiled. Malcolm and Hoshi were dancing with a group of the crew, and the "Vulcan" guests sat together in the corner talking. Hoshi and Malcolm appeared to radiate happiness, and the two Romulans looked pretty cheerful as well.

Trip was proud of himself for not flubbing anything in either ceremony, of course both couples had requested the simplest of civil vows. Nothing fancy. Trip was grateful that security precluded the performance of a Romulan ceremony, which according to Ravel was three hours long and involved the mixing of the couple's blood.

When Phlox began dancing with Hoshi for the third time, Malcolm grabbed a drink and approached Trip.

"Thank you again for making this happen, Captain," said Malcolm.

Trip grinned.

"Like I said, I think will be good for morale to have married couples on the ship," replied Trip, "and I know this from experience."

Malcolm glanced over at Enme and Ravel, who were still intensely conversing as if they were alone in the room. Trip recognized apprehension.

"We can't forget they're Romulans," sighed Malcolm, "They offered to help us develop bioweapons for use against their own people — as though that was the most normal thing in the world."

Trip shot Malcolm a knowing look. As charming as both Ravel and Enme were, they still saw the world very differently than humans — or Vulcans for that matter.

"T'Pol says that if we do defeat the Romulans and the current regime is toppled, she thinks they'll head back and rejoin Romulan society."

Malcolm shook his head.

"I'm just hoping that some of our mercy and compassion rubs off on them," continued Trip, "Maybe they could take some of it back with them, both of them seem impressed that we've treated them well and stuck our necks out to help Ravel stay under Terran control. . .it could plant a seed."

Malcolm downed his drink.

"You're an optimist," said Malcolm, "You always have been, but as near as I can see we — we meaning the crew of this particular ship — have won their loyalty. I don't think they'll betray us. I'm not so sure about Earth and Starfleet at large."

Trip smiled.

"All the more reason that we're the best equipped ship to handle our next assignment," said Trip.

Malcolm glanced over at his Captain, curious.

"Seems that Starfleet Intelligence is pretty intrigued by this group of refugees that Ravel has carrot-ed in front them. After we finish up our errand on Denobula, looks like the brass wants us to go into this neutral zone and find as many of them as we can. You'll probably get special instructions from Section 31 in your next mailbag."

Malcolm bit his lip.

"We're going by ourselves? No escort?"

"We're supposed to keep the mission low-key. Hopefully, our guests will help us avoid any Romulan scout ships or drones. At least, that's what I'm hoping."

T'Pol appeared in the mess hall and strode over the where Malcolm and Trip were standing.

"Congratulations, again, Lt. Commander Reed," said T'Pol formally before she turned to Trip, "The addenda to the licenses have been submitted with your digital signature, Captain. The marriages are both legally binding under Terran law."

"Well," said Malcolm, "that makes me feel romantic. If you'll excuse me, I need to go find my bride."

With that, Malcolm headed back over to where Phlox was still dancing with Hoshi and cut in.

"Well," said Trip, "I think I've earned some good karma today. I married two of my best officers — to each other I mean. And I saved a woman from being deported and imprisoned against her will."

For a brief moment, Trip remembered back to "Charles" and the Vissians, wishing that situation had turned out differently. T'Pol, sensing his sadness, slipped her arm into his.

"You did well, husband," she said, "and it speaks good of humanity that you shall treat the Romulans far better than they would treat anyone in the same position."

Trip started to lead her to the door and whispered in her ear.

"What say you and I get out of here? I'm still under doctor's orders to rest after all."

"That would be to my liking."

And with that, the captain and his first officer slipped out of the mess hall undetected by the crew. Trip knew that is was going to be a long war, and the ship had a dangerous mission ahead of it but for the moment none of that mattered.

A/N: Whew. That took longer that I thought. But I have left this wide open for a prequel as well as a sequel. So, there's that.