Chapter 10

July 13th 2166

Garden at the Home of T'Les

It was awkward. Hell, it was beyond awkward. The last three days had moved so slowly that Trip wondered if somehow T'Les' house had been caught in a time eddy. And although the temperature was way above what a human would find comfortable, the atmosphere in the house was chilled. Although their talk had been promising, it had been the only one since they had arrived at the house. T'Pol had taken to her room to 'meditate', AKA, avoid him. While not unexpected, it still sucked, being so close to her, and yet a barrier between them. There had been many barriers over the years, their prejudices, their cultures, their misunderstandings, him being undercover. This time, the barrier was of his own making; he had broken her trust. It remained to be seen if it had been simply 'put away until found' as she had quoted just a few days ago. She had her solace in her room, and Trip was beginning to find it in the garden.

It was too loud, in its quietness in the house, with T'Pol so close, and yet so far. There was no buzzing of engines, or flickering lights. After so long, it was disorienting to be in such a bland environment. The garden was the most alive part of the whole house. He had learned early into his time on Vulcan that he could not go into the garden willy- nilly, he always sported a wide brimmed hat, and sun protection. He had also taken to wearing gardening gloves, after cutting his fingers on some dilapidated plant. At least the plant didn't turn him into another species or something.

It was his own form of meditation, digging around the plants, and tilling the dirt. He would lose himself in the repetitive motions, stopping to wipe at the sweat falling from his forehead. It was difficult to think about all the things that could be, or have been, when you are bringing new life to a dying garden. Trip felt that for the first time, in a long time, he was adding to the world instead of taking away. This feeling was addictive.

"Trip." He lifted his head at the sound of his name, spotting T'Pol at the gate of the garden. In her hand she was holding a cup of something, and was looking what she would never admit was shy. She was not looking at him consistently, her eyes would land on him and then she'd look away. If she had been human she would have been fidgeting. Trip could see that T'Pol's free had was bunched up, her nails must be cutting her palm. Why was she feeling shy? Trip thrust the shovel he was using into the dirt and turned towards her.

"Hi." He said lamely, wiping at his brow. He knew he must smell to high heaven, he had been out in the sun for at least an hour. "What's up?" Why was he trying to sound nonchalant? It wasn't like she didn't know that he had been drawn here by her, and that he was hopelessly in love with her. It wasn't like this was fifteen years ago, when he had no idea what they were to each other.

"You have been out here for quite some time." She said, her tone flat. Trip nodded.

"Sure have." He wiped at his forehead again. She had come out her of her own volition he was going to wait her out. He leaned against the shovel, and tilted his head at her. T'Pol took a breath, and then entered through the gate.

"I do not believe you have had adequate hydration." She held out the glass towards him. "I know you are vulnerable to the Vulcan heat, this is a drink that includes electrolytes." She was not looking at him at she said this, she was staring beyond him, but Trip could have sworn she had a light green tinge to her cheeks. He did not even try to suppress the grin growing on his face as he closed the gap between them, and grabbed the glass from her hand. Their fingers brushed, and Trip felt his own face start to blush. What was this, eighth grade? He and T'Pol had done a lot more than brush fingers, but it was the most contact they had had in so long. T'Pol stepped back, still not looking at him.

"Thank you." Trip said, saying it for more than the drink she gave him. For giving him the chance to see her again. For this peace offering, though that wouldn't be what she called. T'Pol nodded once.

"You're welcome." She looked up towards the sky, and Trip was jealous that the Vulcan suns did not affect her whatsoever. "You should not be outside much longer, you are not acclimated to Vulcan's atmosphere." Trip bit his lip lightly. The only way she could have told him more clearly that she loved him was using the words. When she looked back from the sky he resisted the urge to wink at her, opting to tip his hat slightly at her instead. Trip could see T'Pol almost give in to an eye roll, instead wrinkling her nose slightly before heading back to the house. Trip took a long sip of the drink she gave him. It tasted terrible, even worse than the coffee he had left on his ship. That probably meant that it was full of electrolytes and other things that would help prevent him from getting heat stroke, again. He gulped the rest of the nasty tasting drink down in one swig, then looked around the garden. It was a good start, but it definitely needed more work. The old life had been torn out, now new life had to be planted again. He wiped his arm over his face and decided that it was time to come inside for the day. At least until the freezing Vulcan night.

XX

Later that afternoon

Trip found himself in the kitchen, at a loss for what to cook, or where anything was. Did all the utensils in the kitchen disappear after the house had been used as a safe house? Did they all sprout legs and walk out the front door? Or did the spies take them with them? Trip had a hard time imagining that spies would stop to steal utensils, but weirder things had happened. The kitchen had a myriad of drawers and cupboards; did it have that many the last time he was here? Trip wandered around the kitchen, feeling more and more frustrated as he was unable to find anything he was looking for. He didn't even know what he was going to try to make, all he knew that T'Pol ate consistently was Plomeek broth, and that didn't sound like it would fill him up. The house had a resequencer, though god knows how old it was or if it had power. If he could escape Section 31 he could fix up a kitchen appliance. The corner of his mouth rose at the thought. He remembered a similar conversation he'd had in this kitchen the first time he met T'Pol's mom. The stasis unit had been broken and he offered his services as an engineer to fix it. God, could he have been any more obvious? Trying to impress the mother of the girl he liked. No wonder T'Les had figured it out. He couldn't have been more obvious if he had stuck a sign to his forehead saying "Hey, I'm in love with your daughter!" He examined the face plate cover of the resequencer. This might take some more elbow grease than he thought. He rolled up his sleeves.

X

Trip felt her presence before she said anything. He was holding a mechanism of the resequencer in his hands. The rest of the machine was in parts around him, but he was pretty sure he could put it back the right way. Probably. Most likely. He felt her eyes on him, and when he looked up, she was looking right at him, with an inquisitive brow raised. He used to think that this look from her meant that she thought he was the stupidest human who had ever existed. Over the years he had come to realize this was her wondering what the hell he was doing. "Hey." he said, raising the mechanism as he did so. "Figured I'd try and rustle us up some food."

"Vulcans can survive for days without food or water." came her typical response. Trip rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah. And as previously noted, humans cannot." He shivered involuntarily, remembering with some degree of fogginess, an argument between the two of them on an alien planet with a certain pollen. T'Pol stared at him for a moment, like she was remembering that same moment, then dipped her chin slightly. "I think I've got this almost figured out." He held out the mechanism towards her, she stepped closer, carefully avoiding the machine parts that littered the kitchen.

"It would appear so." She said, her version of praise. She took a sharp breath, and Trip did his best to keep his focus on the work in his hands. Historically, when she took a sharp breath, she was about to say something deeply personal, or something difficult for her to say. "I spoke with Admiral Archer today, the Prime Directive talks have gone well." Trip raised an eyebrow silently, but still did not look up. This was the most she had talked to him in days, it meant something to her that she was breaking the civil small talk they had engaged in over the last few days. She was his best friend, the one he had told almost everything to. The guilt ate at him even now that he had hidden things from her over the years. It was the nature of the spy difference, but it still sucked to hide things from the person who meant the most to you. It seemed that was experiencing the same cognitive dissonance of not sharing everything with her best friend. "The Admiral believes that this is not the end of the talks. However, it is a good beginning." She paused. "He also asked me to convey that he is glad that Lazarus is on Vulcan, and he hopes to 'shoot the shit' with him soon." A laugh ripped itself out of his body; hearing T'Pol say human saying with that flat tone of hers always made him lose it. He coughed, trying to get the laugh under control.

"Thanks for sending along the message." The words wobbled a little, still tinged with amusement. Jonathan had to know that hearing T'Pol say 'shoot the shit' would cause Trip to have a giggle fit. He was a good friend. Trip wiped the tears from his eyes, still laughing lightly. T'Pol was still watching him; he felt like a specimen under a microscope. What she was she looking for? And would she find it?

"You've been out in the garden often, lately." She said suddenly, very quietly.

"What?" Trip asked, before he was able to stop himself. It was nothing that he had expected her to say, especially after scrutinizing him in that laser focus of hers.

"You have been out in the garden, often, lately." She said again, as though that explained everything. Trip sighed and leaned over to put the mechanism he was working on onto the ground next to him. T'Pol was trying to say something, he just had to listen. After leaning back up from putting down the mechanism, he placed his hands in his lap, and really looked at T'Pol. He took in her body language. Her arms were crossed over her chest, creating a barrier between the two of them. Historically, this meant that she was feeling vulnerable. Why would him being out in the garden often make her feel vulnerable? What did it translate to for her in that complicated mind of hers?

"I have." Trip said lightly, watching her reaction. She squinted her eyes slightly at this confirmation, and the arms across her chest tightened incrementally. "I thought I might try to breathe some new life into the garden." T'Pol's body language changed so slightly that only someone who had watched her for decades could tell the difference. Something about what he had just said had made her uncomfortable. Would she not let him stay long enough to see the new life in the garden he had been toiling over? The first good thing he'd done in so long? He wanted to scream. This was a common trend in their relationship, T'Pol would shrink back from whatever she was thinking, or feeling, and Trip would push back at it, knowing she was feeling something. It has almost always led to one of them leaving the room following an explosive argument. Trip took a deep breath through his nose, trying to calm himself down. If they were going to have to be different, he had to be different. What was she trying to say? If him being out in the garden affected her like this, maybe it meant she was interpreting it as some kind of avoidance? Trip tried to see this from T'Pol's perspective. He had completely lied about being dead for months, and then when he revealed the truth, he had been with another woman on a ship. And now they were drawn to the same place by the same force, and he had been as far from her as possible in the house. He thought he was following her wishes, giving her space. What if she interpreted it as him continuing to push her away, of not caring about their relationship? Trip bit his bottom lip lightly. If ever there was a time to be emotionally vulnerable, it was now. "I honestly thought that you wanted space." He said, so quietly that if T'Pol had been human she would not have heard. T'Pol sighed, not lowering her arms.

"I do not recall stating that." T'Pol said. There was some fire in her tone, and Trip had to fight himself not to match the energy of her statement.

"You've been hiding away in your room for almost three days, T'Pol. What else was I supposed to think?" Trip said, trying to keep his tone even. T'Pol sighed again, and lowered her arms slightly.

"I was meditating." She stated, as though that answered everything. Trip resisted the urge to stand up and push his stool behind him quickly. What the hell was she trying to say?! He breathed in and out, his mind moving at warp speed. Three days ago, she said she was using all of her emotional control to interact with him. Maybe she had been filling up her emotional control even more over the last few days, knowing that she was going to interact with him. Prepping for difficult conversations, uncomfortable human displays of emotions. Was she preparing for the end of their relationship, or to be an active part in saving it? The thought was terrifying. Trip knew he wasn't worthy of her love, or saving what relationship they had, but he had begun to build hope. T'Pol had come, she had stayed. She had let him stay. It had to mean something, didn't it?

"Did you find it helpful, meditating?" He asked, wincing at his phrasing. She always found it helpful. It was a huge part of Vulcan life, and how they kept a grip on their emotions. T'Pol lowered her arms even more.

"It was as helpful as it could be." She said, sniffing lightly. Trip understood then. She had meditated so much the last few days because she was trying to get a handle of her emotions.

"Did the Admiral say when you had to be back?" He asked suddenly. T'Pol burrowed her eyebrows, looking confused at the sudden change in subject.

"The Admiral did not state how long I was sent on shore leave for. However, I believe I should return to duty in no fewer than eleven days." She stated. Eleven days. Plus the four they had already had on Vulcan. Two weeks. They hadn't spoken for three of those days. They had wasted so much time. Trip nodded dumbly,processing his thoughts silently.

"Then back to routine, huh?" Trip asked. He was unable to keep the sarcastic tone out of the question.

"There is nothing 'routine' about this." T'Pol matched his energy, the words biting. This was not going at all how Trip had wanted it to. They needed to bring the energy back down in the room before one of them stormed out. They didn't have time for that.

"I'm sorry." He said, realizing it after it had already slipped out.

"So you have said." T'Pol's voice was sharp, and her arms had reason again. Damn, that hurt. She was right though. All he had talked about was how he was sorry, and his reasons. He had never acknowledged out loud to her how it had affected her.

"You're right." He said, breathing out in a loud gust, lowering his head. "I've only been thinking about myself in our relationship. And how it's affected me. I know it can't be easy, dealing with our relationship over the years." He didn't dare look up at her, he didn't know what the look on her face would be. He plowed through. "It's my fault alone that our relationship has turned into dust. I have been selfish in all my actions. It's not your job to make me feel better and to take me back. I'll stay out of your hair." He said, and made to stand up, without looking at T'Pol. Her hand shot out, and not so gently pushed him back into his seat. He finally looked up at T'Pol, feeling tears beginning to build in his eyes. Her face looked torn between grief and rage. He gulped, this could be very ugly.

"You betrayed my trust, and did not act as a mate should." She said, her tone matching her facial expression. Trip gulped again, but dared not look away. "I would be within my right as a mate to sever the relationship." Trip's breath caught in his throat.

"T'Pol." her name came out watery and strained. His heart thudded dangerously against his ribcage. She ignored him, continuing on.

"I have meditated over the last few days contemplating this. And I have come to the conclusion that while the relationship could be severed, the bond can not be. We are a bonded pair, which lasts until death." She removed her hand from his shoulder. "Vulcans do not have the luxury that humans have, of simply deciding to end a relationship."

"So you're stuck with me." Trip managed to choke out, feeling like he was suffocating. This was not at all what he had wanted. She would leave him, except that she couldn't, because of a bond that they had formed? What kind of sick hell was that? Trip didn't want her to be stuck with him for the rest of his life, only experiencing freedom when he was gone. He felt sick. "I can disappear for the rest of my life, and then you can bond with another when I am gone." T'Pol's eyes flashed.

"I do not believe that is what I suggested."

"Then I have no idea what you are suggesting." Trip admitted, feeling defeated.

"I believe I stated that I will be here on Vulcan for eleven days, at which time I will have to leave to return to Endeavor." Trip made an 'and?' gesture. "I believe I also stated that we are a bonded pair who do not have the luxury of simply 'ending a relationship.'" Trip chuckled. Repeating her previous statements exactly as stated before did not clear anything up.

"Can't you just say what you mean?" he sighed, wiping an exhausted hand across his brow. He could practically hear the gears turning into T'Pol's head. He was tired of this cat and mouse game, of not saying what you wanted to say. Of saying what you're trying to say in a roundabout way. Couldn't they be clear in a straightforward way? Hadn't they earned that right?

"Love is not a uniquely human emotion." T'Pol said. Trip looked back up at her. Her arms had completely dropped, she looked vulnerable. "Vulcans have love for their mates, and their children, even when that love contradicts logic." She was looking at his feet. His heart soared with hope. "Logically, your betrayal should be the end of our relationship." T'Pol shifted slightly in place. "However, I cannot make myself feel logically about our relationship." T'Pol looked embarrassed, as though this was a failing of hers. "I have tried." Trip smothered an inappropriate smirk at that. He knew well how she had tried to think logically about their relationship since the very beginning. How inconvenient it had been for her, and yet she had always been dragged back, just like he had been. "Removing yourself from my life would not change that." Trip took a sharp intake of breath. Was she trying to say what he thought she was?

"So, you still love me?" Trip asked, his voice shaking. T'Pol raised her eyes from his feets briefly. There was a vulnerability in her eyes that she did not even attempt to shield. Trip was suddenly aware that he was holding her heart in his hands at this moment. "I don't deserve it." He whispered, half to himself.

"I do not believe that love is supposed to be earned. Is it not given?" T'Pol asked, sounding like she was trying to quote some proverb she heard.

"I guess that's true. Trust, though. Trust is earned. And I broke yours." He sighed. "Is there any chance I could earn it back? After fucking up so much, and almost throwing away what we had?"

"You told me that the Trip Tucker I knew is dead." T'Pol said. Had she been listening to him at all? He nodded.

"Yeah, whoever I am now is a shadow of the man you knew and loved."

"The Trip Tucker I knew cared deeply about others, and punished himself for his mistakes. I believe that still sounds like you."

Damn her and her logic. Damn her and breaking down his thoughts into such simple wording.

"I am not the same man."

"I am not the same woman either, Trip." She had him there. The T'Pol of Enterprise was no more. The woman who stood before him now was the captain of a starship. She had fought in the Romulan war, and had seen atrocities that others could not begin to imagine. They were not the same people who had fallen in love in the most inconvenient of ways, so many years ago. Their relationship had been anything but normal. And now, she would have to go back to her life in eleven days. Would she leave him behind?

"What's going to happen?" Trip asked, anguished.

"I do not know." T'Pol answered, honestly. "But we have eleven days to determine that."