Rise of the Federation: A New Direction

by enterprisefan13

Charles Anthony Tucker III is dead, maybe for real this time. His friends have no idea if he survived destroying Section 31, and without him reaching out to them, they will never know. Tucker is uncertain himself if he's still alive, sometimes he's not so sure. A Prime Directive is being drafted, what role with Admiral Archer and Captain T'Pol have in its creation? Cross posted

6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

July 1st, 2166

USS Endeavor

Orbiting Earth

T'Pol closed her eyes briefly, taking a deep, stabilizing breath. Finally, the ironclad grip relaxed on her upper arms, her hands sliding down to meet in her lap. T'Pol followed the journey with her eyes, noting the calmness of her body on the outside, while a battle still raged within her. Her Vulcan control had managed to give her the air of nonchalance. 'Fake it til you make it.' said a voice in her head, with its unmistakable southern drawl. T'Pol sighed lightly at the voice, closing then opening her eyes.

Yes, it all came back to Trip, didn't it? Seeing him alive and well had pushed her Vulcan control to its limits. Even thinking of the conversation caused those emotions to build up, threatening to overtake her again. She pressed her feet into the floor beneath her, grounding herself. While planting her feet, her fingernails were also digging into her palms, held tightly in a fist.

She took another deep breath, closing her eyes for an extended amount of time. She kept count of the rise of her chest, in, out… in, out… in, out… A form of meditation without a candle. When the emotions no longer threatened to overtake her, fingernails stopped digging in, though she kept her feet grounded to the ship floor, slowly opening her eyes.

The monitor with its blank screen was almost mocking. It reflected her image; bloodshot eyes, tear tracks down her face. The opposite image of a Vulcan who had control over their volatile emotions. T'Pol fought the sudden urge to scrub away the evidence of the tears. She did not know how long it had been since she had ended the call with Trip, sitting in the dimly lit quarters. She had lied to Trip about needing to meet Admiral Archer. If she showed up to headquarters, she would be turned away for the day. T'Pol felt her face heat up at the thought. Admiral Archer knew that this conversation would cause distress, and had thought ahead to give her the day off. If she was a human woman, she would feel ashamed. A captain should not be so affected by a mate that they cannot perform their duties. And a superior officer should not anticipate their subordinate to have such a reaction, and plan for it. Yet T'Pol knew that Admiral Archer was more than a superior officer, he was a friend. He made the order not within his professional capacity, but from him caring for his friends. T'Pol wondered how humans could 'toe the line' between professional and personal relationships. Even after more than a decade and a half of trying to find a balance, she still had difficulty between her duties. Especially when it came to people she cared about. In particular, Trip.

Trip, who until recently, she thought was dead. Trip, who had been, until recently, traveling with an Orion woman. Anger began to build in her core; creeping up her torso. He had said "I am free'. Free of what? Of a relationship he had decided, on his own, was over? Free of responsibility now that Section 31 thought he was dead? T'Pol swallowed harshly, her Adam's apple was it all for? Rage was building again inside her, and T'Pol did not know if she could find her control again, she wasn't even certain she wanted to. The pain was almost unbearable; and she could feel hot, wet, tears rolling down her cheeks, retracing the pathways of the old tears.

She had not even been certain she was going to meet Trip on that channel; but whatever had drawn her to him over the years had drawn her to speak to him. She had tried to fight the compulsion, and had almost succeeded. But her resolve had given out at the end. Only for her to learn that what continued to draw her to Trip,did not draw him to reach out, but to assuage his own guilt. A common and powerful feeling amongst humans. She too, had paid penance for her actions, at the cost of much. Had Trip decided the price of his penance was their relationship? What a selfish, human, thing to do. T'Pol was filled with so much rage that she grabbed the closest object to her, a picture frame, and threw it against the wall. The frame shattered into pieces; bouncing off the wall, and flying all over her quarters. The glass shattered for a few feet in front of where the frame had impacted, covering the photo it used to hold.

T'Pol sat frozen, staring at the consequence of her action, breathing heavily. Vulcans did not typically have pictures, but this picture had been gifted to her by Trip. A simple, nondescript picture of a landscape that he had gifted her while they were serving on Enterprise. 'Just thought you might like it.' he had said, with a grin that promised mischievous behavior. The picture was not often on display, as Vulcans preferred a minimally decorated environment. In fact, T'Pol was not certain when she had put it on her desk. Through the years she had thought of throwing it away, but found herself with every assignment, packing it. So was her relationship with Trip, she realized. She tried to leave it behind, and yet brought it with her wherever she went. Perhaps she should shatter it like the picture frame. That was the only way to get rid of the picture, once and for all. And yet as she looked at the remains of the frame, her brain was speeding with thoughts of a new picture frame, and where and when she could stop to get one. T'Pol stood, surveying the damage. The picture itself was fixable, only the frame needed replacing. T'Pol squared her shoulders. Enough of this. Enough of letting emotions control her. She was a Vulcan. She set about cleaning up the broken glass, taking care not to injure herself on the sharp bits.

XX

Cleaning was its own kind of meditation with its repetitive movements. It tamped down T'Pol's emotions and bolstered her control. When she had cleaned all the glass, and put the photograph safely away, the rage had snuffed out. A blank space had taken its place. T'Pol had told Trip that she would reach out with dates and times for their conversation. What if she never reached out? She now knew he was alive, and knew that he was paying penance. It was not the future Trip had always spoken of, but it was a future. Without the bond, he could live out his penance anyway he saw fit, and she could remain in Starfleet, helping shape the Federation for generations to come. If Trip reached out through the private channel, she would simply tell Hoshi to ignore it, or not answer it. Humans might call it cruel. T'Pol would call it logical.

But even Vulcans know that love is not logical. The love a parent has for their child, the love of a wife for her husband. A bond so strong, that if forcibly separated, could kill both parties. T'Pol had always thought it had only been the physical psychic bond that could kill. But she had not died when she had been bonded to Koss, and that bond was broken. Because although they had been bonded, it had not included love. Nor had T'Pol fostered that bond, so that love could strengthen it. Although she had Trip had lost the psychic bond, T'Pol had fostered the relationship, strengthened the love. It was not easy to give up, though that would be the logical decision. Would giving up the bond of love be as deadly as giving up the psychic one? It could not be severed in one blow as the psychic one could be. It would take slow, repetitive blows. T'Pol did not know if she could survive such actions.

Humans did not know the luxury they had in their mating. They could choose a mate, have sexual relations, and then move on to a new mate. Vulcans had no such luxury. Once a bond was made, only death could separate the mates. Even when a husband or wife worked separately, serving on different ships, or different worlds,they were drawn back together. Vulcans would say they were only drawn together because of Pon Farr; but something so encoded in their DNA, the need for one's mate, could never be only physical in nature. If it was, a Vulcan could mate with anyone during their Pon Farr. Instead, they needed their mate to get them through in a way that no other could. When T'Pol had mated with Trip all those years ago, she had not understood the gravity of that decision. She had not known that she would never be able to separate emotion from logic regarding him, ever again.

XXXX

July 2nd, 2166

Starfleet Headquarters

'Well, she looks like shit' Archer thought, observing T'Pol from over his desk. He was sure that she thought she was hiding it well. To the untrained eye she appeared put together, not a hair out of place. Even when Vulcans looked disheveled they looked more put together than most. But Archer had known this particular Vulcan for a long time, and had seen her at her worst moments. He knew the look in the eye, the droop of the shoulders. The talk with Trip must not have gone well. Archer internally rolled his eyes. Trip was, at times, unfortunately predictable. Although Trip had changed in ways that they may never know, keeping his cards closer to his chest than he had in the past, Archer liked to think that he knew the man better than almost anyone else. Trip, at his core, was a man who strived to do good, be a 'hero'. It was why he had joined Section 31 in the first place, to make a difference on a large scale.

But Archer also knew that because of that hero complex, Trip felt immense guilt whenever he felt he made a mistake. Archer had seen the devastation in him in the Expanse, blaming himself for the loss of crewmembers. It was why Trip had stayed in Section 31 for so long, even when it was clear he no longer believed in it. And, if his suspicions were right, it was why Trip had stayed hidden for so long this time. He felt immense guilt over something. What, Archer didn't know. But it all made sense now. Trip was punishing himself for something.

Without a word, Archer stood, grabbing two glasses, and a decanter of wine. He filled his glass, filled one for T'Pol, and slid it over to her, before retaking his seat across from her. Archer took a deep sip of his wine, noting how T'Pol closed her eyes briefly as she sipped delicately from her glass. Archer sighed, putting down his glass, and leaned towards T'Pol, his elbows on the table. "So, I take it Trip is well?" He had already made a show of doing the necessary sweeps, and was confident that they would not be overheard. T'Pol took another delicate sip of the wine, buying herself time. Archer watched as T'Pol gathered the Vulcan air of nonchalance, putting her glass down gently in front of her.

"Yes, he is physically well. I was gratified to see him in good health." Archer cupped a hand over his mouth to muffle the involuntary chuckle that escaped. What a typical, Vulcan, bullshit line. Answered nothing while thinking they sound superior to all other beings. Archer had been around Vulcans long enough to decipher their party line catch phrases. Physically well? That was pretty particular. In good health? Doubling down on the idea that Trip was in good physical condition. Did that mean he wasn't well in other ways? Psychologically, maybe? Archer took on a serious expression.

"I see." He hesitated, unsure if it was pushing the envelope too far to bring up Trip and T'Pol's relationship. It was an open secret. They rarely talked about it, but T'Pol knew that Archer knew. Vulcans were especially private people, and rarely, if ever, spoke of personal relationships. As Archer observed T'Pol, taking a sip from his glass as he contemplated, he knew that she did not have anyone else to talk to about this with. That had been the nature of her and Trip's relationship over the last decade. One cast in shadow, and technically, legally, nonexistent. She could not be in a relationship with a dead man. And yet, she was. Anyone else would have given up the relationship long ago, and no one would blame them. Archer had had a Vulcan scholar in his head once, and though it had been brief, he had learned much. He knew that Vulcan couples were bound by a force bigger than themselves, and from knowing Trip and T'Pol, he knew that bond was not just limited to Vulcans. And he also knew it went beyond some bond they had formed. If the way T'Pol acted when it came to Trip wasn't clearly love, then Archer didn't know what was. He also knew that no one could talk to her in the way he was about to, and so, the decision was already made for him. He moved to sit on the edge of the desk closest to T'Pol, clasping his hands over his middle. "There's more, I can tell. Please, tell me." T'Pol stared at her hands, which were lying in her lap. She looked so crestfallen that it made Archer's heart ache. What had Trip done? Finally, she spoke in a voice so low, Archer leaned forward slightly to try to hear her, and he still strained.

" He is paying penance."

Archer schooled himself to not respond. He had guessed that Trip was punishing himself for something. If it was just this, however, T'Pol would not look as sad as she did. So Trip was punishing himself, what else?

"And?" He asked gently, prodding. T'Pol was quiet for a moment, her fingers dancing with each other in her lap. When she looked up, her eyes were wide.

"Until a few days ago, he was paying penance with Devna." She stated simply. The words may have been simple, but the tone was so icy that Archer flinched. His heart sank. Had Trip been so dumb? Had he felt so much guilt that he had betrayed who he was? Archer understood. He had almost lost himself after the Kobayashi Maru incident. Grief could ruin a man, if he let it. Had Trip?

"T'Pol…" he began, wishing to take away any of the pain, if he could. She cut him off.

"Is it usual, Admiral, for humans to turn from their mate, and find solace in the company of another?" Her tone was balanced, and yet it held a bite. Archer cringed internally.

'Goddamn it, Trip' he thought. "I'm sor…" he began, but stopped when T'Pol put up a hand. She grabbed her glass, and took another sip, her nose wrinkling slightly at the taste.

"He did not lie with her." She stated. She was losing control of her emotions, her tone building with each sentence. "Trip was alive these past months, did not lie with another woman, but found solace with her in his penance." T'Pol gulped, closing her eyes briefly. When she met Archer's, there was a fire in them that he had seen rarely before. "Is this what humans do?" Her words held so much weight, so much grief. The fact that it had leaked through her Vulcan reserve meant that it was much more intense beneath the surface. If this was what was coming through, what she was experiencing on the inside must be unimaginable. Archer stared at his shoes, gathering his thoughts. He could hear T'Pol taking slow, deep breaths.

"Humans are known to be dumb, yes." He said, quirking a side of his mouth up. T'Pol did not respond. Yes, maybe some humor was not helpful at this point. "It is typical for humans to be complex, yes." He tried to keep his tone on an even keel. "Humans can, and do, feel many emotions at the same time. We can feel grief, and love, and happiness, and guilt, all at the same time. It can be a maze, working through them." He sighed. "And god knows, humans make stupid decisions while navigating that maze, because no one gave us directions. And those decisions can hurt the people we care about the most." He glanced over at T'Pol, whose head was bowed. " Trip feels deeply. He cares deeply. He blames himself, deeply. It's who he is. It's ingrained in his very being." T'Pol did not look up. Archer sighed again. "And he's not known for making the most logical decisions based on those emotions he feels deeply." Archer did smirk at that, and noted that T'Pol's head rose at those words. "It's a part of why I love him. Even if he is a dumbass." T'Pol moved her head to meet Archer's eyes. The flame was gone, a void taking its place.

" I do not know how to proceed." She said. There were whole paragraphs behind those words. Archer could guess at the themes. Did she want to be in a relationship with a man who could go months without reaching out? Was she willing to move around her life for a man who was willing to live his, without her? Archer wished he had the answers.

"All I know is, I can't tell you what to do." He tipped his head slightly, "Except if it's work related." As the words left his mouth, his mind was racing. "And that means I can order you to take shore leave." T'Pol opened her mouth to protest, but Archer was already on a roll, and began excitingly pacing. "Your crew is already here, in orbit. I'm sure they'd appreciate the time off."

"Admiral, you need me for the conference." Archer waved away the sentence.

"I've appreciated your presence more than you know." He came to a stop, and looked at T'Pol. "But your help right now would not be helpful. There's too much going on." He wiped a hand across his face. "And these talks are just the first many. There will be negotiations and amendments and so on for years to come." T'Pol quirked an eyebrow.

"It sounds as if you believe it will pass." Archer smiled widely at that.

"I think with some more time, and a little bit of schmoozing, it will pass. And I can do those two, by myself."

"Indeed." T'Pol agreed reluctantly.

XXX

July 3rd 2166

USS Endeavor

Orbiting Earth

T'Pol and her crew had been ordered on shore leave by Admiral Archer. It was reminiscent of fifteen years earlier, when she had ordered the then captain to his own shore leave. Perhaps it was latent revenge that the admiral was taking. Forcing the captain to confront the thoughts and relationship she would rather ignore by throwing herself into her work. She still could, the Endeavor needed a crew, even when simply orbiting a planet. She suspected if she took advantage of that loophole, Admiral Archer would have her court-martialed.

The admiral had formulated this situation so that she would have to confront what she would rather ignore. Even as she packed a bag, she had no plan. It would be easy enough to obtain a ship to take her wherever she wanted to go. T'Pol did not have a destination in mind, which was unusual for her. As she packed her bag, she placed the photo Trip had given her, wrapping it in clothes so it would not break during travel.