Chapter 8

July 9th 2166

Vulcan

Home of T'Les

T'Pol stared at her mother's home. The warm Vulcan air engulfed her, its waves of heat washing over her, wrapping her up as though it was a blanket. T'Pol closed her eyes briefly at the sensation. In her youth, she would have stated that this feeling of being wrapped in the Vulcan air brought her comfort. Her mother would have told her that she was being too emotional, and that what T'Pol was experiencing was simply a physiological sensation to the warmth. It was a common occurrence of her youth for her mother to chide her about being too emotional. What irony that many emotional moments had occurred between her and Trip here.

It was here that Trip could have decided to leave Section 31 all those years ago. He could have come back to Enterprise, resuming the life he wanted back so badly. But Trip had felt a sense of duty to a Romulan who had been brainwashed with mind melds to think he was a Vulcan operative. That had been one of the first signs that Trip could not leave as easily as he had always talked about. Admiral Archer was right, if Trip felt some kind of guilt, even if it was not his to carry, he would see it through to the end. T'Pol had known then, that it would not be easy for Trip to leave Section 31, and that he was in deeper than he knew. T'Pol had felt that certainty feeling in that moment that this parting would be their last for a long time, and she had acted on it. She had thrown Vulcan propriety to the wind, and kissed Trip in full view of the Vulcan driver. She remembered hearing Trip through their bond, and his thoughts echoed hers. "I love you."

How ironic, that it was at her mother's home, she could no longer deny that she and Trip were intrinsically tied together. How ironic, that it was here, on Vulcan, where she had finally given in to knowing that she was in love with Trip.

T'Pol opened her eyes, feeling her eyelids adjusting to the harsh sunlight of Vulcan. Her mother's house was surrounded in the haze that came from the heat and humidity of the harsh planet. At one point in her life, this had been home. Not just her mother's house, but the entirety of Vulcan. There had been a time that whenever she was granted leave, she would come home, to be insulted by her mother about her choices. It had been a familiar pattern, something T'Pol could find grounding in, a constant, something she could rely on.

It was why she had stayed on Vulcan vessels for so long. Her mother advised her about how to be most successful, and how to make advancements in her career. All the while, her mother would reprimand T'Pol for being too emotional, stressing that T'Pol must not act as herself, but as a Vulcan was expected to act. It worked. T'Pol advanced in her career, all the while, struggling to contain her emotions behind a stoic facade. The harder it became to contain her emotions, the more stoic the facade became. Humans nicknamed her the 'frosty bitch'; how little they knew.

When she was assigned to Enterprise, the struggle only became worse. Assaulted with the human emotions all throughout the ship, except in the privacy of her quarters. And then Trip happened. And her quarters were no longer a place that was not infiltrated with emotions. She merely had to close her eyes, and she was assaulted by the memory of his touch, and the murmurings that only took place in the privacy of intimacy. She had already been experiencing emotions about Trip before the trellium-d, and with the trellium-d, the emotions were too difficult to resist, not that she wanted to. Her feelings for Trip became too much for her to handle. She had never been trained how to handle emotions, instead always been chastised for having them. Her only option was to shut down, rather than to drown in emotions she could not and would not name.

Vulcans liked to act like they were above emotions, making others often believe that they didn't feel emotions. The opposite was true. Vulcans felt emotions so deeply that if they allowed themselves to feel them, they would be overwhelmed. If they let themselves feel anger, they were a danger to those around them. The Vulcan race had almost annihilated themselves because of the emotions of anger and rage. Vulcans felt the emotions that humans labeled as 'good' emotions, just as deeply. The emotions of love and lust almost overwhelmed her when it came to Trip, causing her to retreat from them, and him. And when she had almost admitted to herself what she was feeling, and that she could feel them for Trip, she had brought Trip here, to her mother's home.

Another irony, being pulled with a certainty with no proof, to her mother's home. A place that had ended what might have been a relationship out of the shadows, and had caused, what T'Pol knew now, was heartbreak for both parties. This was the place where T'Pol had tried to fit back into the Vulcan mold, and perform her duty to her family. This was the place where she tried to bond with Koss, and failed spectacularly, because she was always bonded to Trip. The irony.

The place she had tried to be a true Vulcan, and where her mother had pushed her to do so, was the place where T'Pol knew that she and Trip would meet again.

XXX

T'Pol opened the door to her mother's home cautiously, her travel bag on her shoulder. She half expected Trip to be hiding in the shadows of the room, as he was known to do. When she did not find him, or anyone else in the home, she opened the door fully. Her nose crinkled at the smell of dust in the home. It had been many years since anyone had been in the home, it was not surprising that dust had accumulated on the furniture. What was surprising was that the home was still in relatively good condition; nothing appeared to be broken or taken. T'Pol made her way through the house, examining each of the rooms as walked by. They all appeared to be in a similar condition. She sighed, placing her bag on a space she had cleaned dust off of. First, she must get the house with the proper temperature controls. It was getting late, and the house was beginning to become chilled, at least for a Vulcan. Since she could detect no mold, the controls must have only been turned off recently. Denak must have been watching the house for years. T'Pol made a mental note to thank him, if he was still alive.

XX

It was not difficult to get the temperature controls turned back on. T'Pol was the owner of the house, although in her mind, it was still her mother's home. She simply had to provide evidence of her identity, and the controls were turned back on within moments. The temperature increased to a comfortable degree, and T'Pol ceased rubbing her hands up and down the length of her arms. She was not used to Vulcan nights; she had grown accustomed to the temperatures humans felt comfortable in, opting to wear layers under her uniform. Vulcan was as harsh at night, as it was during the day, just in the opposite direction. How their species survived such extremes of temperatures was a debate that continued in the Vulcan science directory. T'Pol wondered if it was because of the depth of emotions that Vulcans felt, that they survived. Emotions could be a motivator, as she had seen in humans, and within herself.

Shaking her head lightly, as though to expel those thoughts of her head, she turned to her travel bag. There was no point in trying to clean the house now. Although she had no desire to try to sleep, or to meditate, T'Pol knew that she must. Just being in her mother's home caused emotions to push against her restraint. If she did not sleep or meditate, her resolve would not hold against them. Now was not the time to lose her grip on her emotions. She gripped her travel bag tightly in her hand, making her way to a spare bedroom in the house.

July 9th 2166

Vulcan

Somewhere?

Trip hoisted his bag tighter over his shoulder. It had to be the five hundredth time he had done so in just the last half hour. Even though he knew that the gravity of Vulcan was much heavier than Earth, let alone space, there was no way to remember just how awful the experience was unless he was experiencing it. Trip's plan had been to land at T'Les' home, but Vulcan security would not give him clearance to do so. He would have to walk from the nearest landing site, which was three klicks away. A reasonable feat, for someone who was not an aging, out of shape, human. He could've hitched a ride, but then he'd have to explain why he was going to the former home of T'Les, and that was a discussion he'd rather not have.

So here he was, walking at a very slow pace, towards the destination he knew that T'Pol was going to be at. Was she there already? He stopped in his tracks, a sudden thought coming to him. What if the house didn't exist anymore? It had been years since he had last been to the house, and though it had been in good condition then; a lot could happen in a year, let alone more than five. A war had happened in that time, had the house been decimated? T'Pol would be devastated. He repositioned the bag again, and picked up his pace.

Trip didn't get to know T'Les well, and what relationship with her he did have was… complicated. He knew that she simply wanted what was best for T'Pol, and believed that a traditional Vulcan marriage was what was best. At the same time, she had pushed him to tell T'Pol how he felt, even if it ruined the marriage. Maybe it would have saved them a whole lot of stress if he had. Yet again, they might have just ended up where they did anyway, just a whole lot more heartbreak, if that was even possible. Trip could feel his breath quickening, and slowed his pace marginally.

If he had complicated feelings about T'Les' home, he could only imagine how T'Pol was feeling. The place she had grown up, the place that she had gotten married, and the place that Trip chose to stay with Section 31 over returning to Enterprise. The beginning of the end of Trip Tucker.

Stupid sense of honor.

Stupid sense of duty.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

He should have gone back with T'Pol. He had a shot at getting his life back, being with her and Archer on Enterprise. It would have been easier to reintegrate back into the crew, to explain away his absence. But no. He had to make sure a brainwashed Romulan was not going to go all bat shit crazy and kill everyone. Staying on that mission led to another, and another, until he was so far in he didn't even want to leave Section 31. He, himself, was brainwashed for years. He had lost so much time. Another thing to flagellate himself with. He shook his head, he needed to focus. With each step, he was closer to T'Les' home, and he didn't know for sure what awaited him there.

XX

It took him almost three hours, but he could finally spot T'Les' house in the distance. His legs felt like jello, his body was shaking from the chill, and he was so thirsty that he was reminded of when he almost died on that stupid desert planet. He had never been so grateful to see T'Les' home, which, at this distance, looked intact.

As he approached, he noted that none of the lights in the home were on. Perhaps T'Pol wasn't here yet. That might be kind of strange, T'Pol arriving, and him already being there. His heart raced at the thought of seeing her again. He hesitated at the garden, noting that it was overgrown. Denak must not have gone back to his job as gardener of the house. Trip did want to entertain the other option. He had seen enough death for a lifetime. He preferred to believe that Denak had retired peacefully, living his life out of the eye of the spy business.

Trip eyed the house again. Should he tempt fate by going into the house? If she wasn't there, that would be awkward as hell, being there first, almost in wait of her. If she was there, what would he say? In all the days it took for him to get to Vulcan, and the walk to her mother's home, he hadn't thought of a single thing to say. What was there to say? 'Hey, I think that the bond we thought was broken is still there and it brought me here, did it bring you too?' That could be a start, he guessed. A stupid start, but one nonetheless. Perhaps, like this garden, he could bring their relationship back to life. He gripped the strap of the bag so tightly that he could barely feel his hand any more. He took a deep breath and pushed the front door open cautiously.

His eyes took a moment to adjust, but he could feel the environmental controls. That could only mean one thing, T'Pol had arrived before him. Where was she? He dropped his bag to the ground without a loud THUNK, cringing at how the sound must sound to sensitive Vulcan ears. What if she was sleeping? He could barely see a few inches in front of him, but didn't want to turn on the lights in fear of waking T'Pol up, just in case she hadn't been awoken by the clang of his bag. Where was she? Trip felt the urge to find her, even if he didn't want to wake her, and even if he didn't know what he was going to say, or what was going to happen. He could not resist the pull he was feeling to see her, he had to see her. He hadn't been at this house long before, and without light, was completely lost. He knew approximately where the spare bedrooms were, but did not know how to get there without using his hands on the walls as a guide. He tripped into a few objects that were against the walls, cursing under his breath as he did so. Which room was it?! It felt like there were endless spare rooms in this house. Has it always been this big? It felt like he had reached every room, their doors swung open into the room. Wait, this door was closed, he could feel the knob under his hands. Should he open it? His hand hovered over the knob. What if she wasn't in there?

What if she was? He took a breath he could feel from the top of his head through the soles of his feet, and pushed the door open.