Chapter 9

Early Morning, July 10th 2166

Vulcan

Home of T'Les

T'Pol heard the deep breath Trip took as she knew he took in the sight of her. She was facing away from him, staring at the wall. Her Vulcan hearing had been able to pick up his sounds since he entered the garden of her mother's home. His scent permeated throughout the house, stronger because of his journey through the Vulcan heat. But even if she hadn't been able to smell or hear him she would have known he was there anyway. The same way she had known they would meet here.

"T'Pol?" Trip called softly, his voice wavering, followed by a sniffle, as if he was crying. T'Pol knew that when Trip was crying heavily, and attempting to stop, he would sniffle and breathe deeply, his chest heaving as he did so. T'Pol heard Trip take a few unsteady steps further into the room. "T'Pol?" he called again, even more softly, his voice cracking. T'Pol was certain that although she had said nothing, and was breathing as though she was asleep, Trip knew that she was awake. He sighed, she could see in her mind's eye him running his hand through his hair in frustration. He took a deep breath, and then let it out in a large gust. "Okay, then." he said, with a hint of desperation and anger. T'Pol heard him turn and exit the room, closing the door quietly behind him. T'Pol rolled over at the sound, staring at the familiar ceiling above her.

XXX

Trip could feel the tears tracking down his face as he turned from the door of the room T'Pol was in. She wasn't asleep, despite her half assed attempt at appearing so. He leaned against the wall next to the door, resting the back of his head against the wall. Why hadn't he called her out on it? Why had he let her push him away again, after knowing they'd both been drawn to this place by some invisible force. He sniffled, and used his pointer finger to wipe the snot he knew was escaping from his nose.

Ah hell, he knew why he hadn't called her out on it. He was a coward, and wasn't ready to face her yet. As if another few hours were going to make all the difference. It wasn't like she was going to come out of the room after a few hours of fake sleeping and suddenly everything was alright. And even if she did, it wasn't like Trip was going to feel any less guilt about abandoning her, by waiting a few hours. He knew it was pushing off the inevitable. The inevitable conversation that would be painful, and probably humbling, and full of Vulcan-isms and cliche sayings. At that thought, the corner of his mouth pulled up involuntarily. It was no secret that he enjoyed the back and forth he and T'Pol could get into, even when it was unpleasant, and he was on the losing end of the conversation. He was looking forward to getting into an argument with T'Pol. He shook his head. That was something to analyze another day. He wiped a hand over his face, erasing any trace of mirth it had held.

XXX

Early Morning

T'Pol woke to the gentle sun pouring in from a high window in the room she was staying in. She was not accustomed to waking up to natural light, taking a few moments to gather her awareness. Pushing herself into a seated position on the edge of the bed, she rolled her neck side to side. She pressed the soles of her feet into the floor, grounding herself into her Vulcan self control. She took a deep breath.

Trip.

Trip was here, in her mother's home. Her heart began racing without her conscious awareness, and she ordered her body to calm. Her body would not cooperate with that command, her heart beating so fast that all she could hear with the waves of the beats. She took a shaking breath.

She would have to mediate before she saw Trip. If she was having difficulty controlling her emotions now, they would not be able to be contained if she saw him. The emotions inside her were swirling in a confusing and contradictory whirl. The emotions were telling her to both run to Trip and to gather him in her arms and tell him all was forgiven, and also to beat him senseless, throw him across the room with one swift motion of her arm. Without meditation, she was not sure which emotion would win out in the end. Perhaps both. Or another emotion she was not aware of.

Trip's death was not something she wanted be the cause of. Her breathing was calming as breathed in and out, riding each breath as a wave, following it as the waves crashed, and retreated.

XXX

Mid morning

Garden at T'Les's home

It had been suffocating, sitting in the house while T'Pol was doing whatever she was doing. Avoiding him, he guessed.

Perhaps that's why he found himself out in the garden, examining the sad state of the plants abandoned god knows how long ago. Or maybe it was because he had been in space so long that his body had forgotten what real gravity felt like. He hadn't touched dirt in so long that it felt almost like a dream as he dug around the plants in the garden. He wasn't sure what all of them were called, or how they were supposed to look, he could tell that underneath all the death, there was life.

The plants might be uglier than sin, and the garden might look like a mess, but with some care, it could be as beautiful as it once was. It might be arranged differently than before, but that was just artistic license. However the garden looked, it would be better than how it looks now.

Trip grabbed a handful of dirt, and held it up to his face. Was there new life in this dirt too? Sighing, he placed the dirt back down, his hand still grasping it. It was starting to get warm, he could feel the sweat beginning to gather at his hair line. It wouldn't be long until the sweat was rolling down his face, and stinging his eyes. He should think about investing in some protective gear. That is, if he's going to be staying here for a while, which was still to be decided. He idly wondered if T'Pol was 'awake' now.

Would she be waiting for him in the kitchen when he walked in? Would she yell at him? Throw him against the wall? Kiss him like he was her oxygen, and she would suffocate without him? All those he could deal with. If he could get a rise out of her emotionally, there was still a chance. Even if she responded with her typical ice cold Vulcan way of hers, he would know that she was hiding her emotions under her typical veneer of emotionless robot. What he couldn't handle was her having no reaction at all. If there was no fight in her, then she felt nothing for him. Even when they were at their worst, and had a tumultuous relationship at best, strong emotions had always been present. Emotions were part of the foundation of their relationship, and if T'Pol didn't have any left regarding him… well, he didn't know what he would do.

The sweat was beginning to roll down his face in earnest; Vulcan could get hot in the blink of an eye, especially for an off-worlder like him. Given his perpentency for heatstroke, it was probably best for him not to test the winds of chance staying outside on Vulcan. At least until he got acclimated. He sighed. If. If he got acclimated. He fruitlessly wiped away the sweat. He had to go into the house, whether he was ready or not for whatever was waiting for him.

XX

Early afternoon

T'Pol had meditated all morning, until she had achieved an acceptable level of control. It was not her mother would have considered acceptable, but it was all she could achieve. Ever since her Trellium addiction, she had been unable to achieve complete emotional control. Over the years, she had been able to regain much of her control, though not all. And when it came to Trip, her emotional control was tenuous, at best. She must talk to him while her control is at its best, to avoid any catastrophic events. And, she could no longer put off their inevitable meeting.

XX

T'Pol was not surprised to find Trip in the kitchen, sitting at the counter as though it was a common occurrence for him. He had always had a knack for adapting to whatever environment he was in. Perhaps it was what he called his 'Southern Charm' that put people at ease. It was likely one of the reasons Section 31 had chosen him as an operative. T'Pol approached him quietly, and although Trip did not look up, she knew he was aware of her presence. She saw the slight uptick of the corner of his mouth before he schooled his face back into a neutral expression. So he was amused, then. T'Pol tamped down at the emotion that was already building. How could he find this amusing? She swallowed. "Hello." Her voice sounded rawer than she had intended, but it was too late now. The conversation had to start somehow, and T'Pol had begun it. Trip looked up, his mouth wavering between a frown and that little grin he often wore.

"Hi." His voice sounded just as raw, if not rawer than her own. He kept eye contact with her for a moment, before looking down again. T'Pol could not help but notice that he looked exhausted. When was the last time he had slept? She took another few steps forward. She sniffed lightly. "Don't worry, I showered while you were 'sleeping' " Trip said, grinning.

"I was meditating." She rebuffed, only realizing her mistake after she had said it. Trip quirked an eyebrow, then seemingly decided to let that admission go.

"Tea?" Trip offered, finally lifting his head, and gesturing to a cup next to him that T'Pol had not seen before.

"Chamomile?"

"Is there any other kind?" Trip's voice held a tone that T'Pol had learned over the years meant that he was teasing.

"Thank you." She replied stiffly. Historically, holding a warm beverage between her hands helped ground her in emotional control. However, she was not ready to sit beside Trip. She grabbed the tea, and stood on the opposite side of the counter, observing Trip. She clutched the hot tea between her hands, and when she took a sip, it burned lightly as she swallowed. She did not know how to proceed. Humans called this 'small talk', interactions that she had never fully grasped. What was the role of small talk in a situation that required in depth conversation? She had never mastered the transition from meaningless conversation to discussing the 'uncomfortable', as it were. Humans called her blunt, T'Pol believed it to be succinct. "Why are you here?" She asked bluntly, noting Trip's wince at her flat tone.

"Same reason as you, I'd wager." Trip maintained his seated position, but had changed his posture to a straight back, and laid his arms on the table, his hands clasped. "Drawn here, by something." He squinted his eyes slightly at her, questioning. "Does the bond still exist between us? I thought it was broken after the attack." He looked doubtful, and she could see the familiar doubt in his eyes.

"As did I." T'Pol closed her eyes for a brief moment, grounding herself. "There is much to be learned about bonding." T'Pol could feel anger growing in her. Who was he to doubt her, when he had lied about his death for so long? She held her mug a little tighter, and when she lifted it to take a sip, she breathed in the steam, calming herself. When she lowered her mug, Trip seemed satisfied with her answer, as the doubtful look in his eyes had dissipated.

"Yeah, especially a bond with a dead human." His lip quirked up momentarily, but he lowered it when she did not respond. T'Pol knew Trip well enough to know that he was attempting to 'break the tension'. T'Pol had often found it inappropriate and ill timed, and it was no different now. T'Pol did not respond to his attempt at breaking the tension, and simply stared at him, while clutching the tea. Trip held her gaze, eyes slowly filling up with tears, until he broke the contact to turn his gaze down at the table again. "I am so sorry." The words came out wet, choked. "It's just all gone to shit, and I ruined what was left." His body began to shake at the words, and T'Pol could spot the tears rolling down his nose. T'Pol felt compelled to go to him, to bring what comfort she could. But this was not the moment to provide comfort. Trip was providing a confession to her, as though she was the judge and jury of his fate. Perhaps she was. Trip sniffled, and wiped a hand across his nose. "The Trip you knew is gone. The washed up Section 31 agent is who's left." He chuckled darkly, "And I can't even do that right." He was still crying, but his body was still, like the calm before a storm. His eyes darkened. "I am a fucking monster. I traded one people for another because the Federation comes first!" Trip stood, the stool falling with a loud clang to the floor. "And then I went off with an Orion woman? And let the woman who I love, think I was dead all because I am fucking coward, T'Pol!" His voice caught on her name.

T'Pol said nothing during Trip's monologue. But as he stared at her, chest heaving, tear streaked face, she said the first thing that came to mind, an automatic response. "I am gratified that you are alive and well." To her surprise, Trip burst into laughter. T'Pol took a step back in surprise.

"You're gratified?!" He threw his hands in the air. "Bullshit. You are pissed." Trip's face fell. "You have always hated that you were bonded to a human, and you thought that you were free from all that. Instead, you are still bonded to a coward, who doesn't deserve to even see you, let alone ask for your love." T'Pol observed him silently for a moment. This was not the first outburst Trip had experienced around her. It was how he processed his emotions. Trip felt deeply, and expressed the depth of those feelings in pronounced ways. Trip took a step forward, and although not menacing, it was with purpose. "Why aren't you pissed?" He held up a finger to as T'Pol opened her mouth. "And don't give me that bullshit of 'I am incapable of feeling anger'." He crossed his arms. "Cause we both know that ain't true."

T'Pol squinted her eyes at Trip. Was he trying to make her angry? She tilted her head at him. "You are trying to provoke me. What is your logic?" Good, her voice did not convey any emotion behind it. Trip did not adjust his posture when he responded.

"To see if I still can."

He didn't need to elaborate. Trip had always been able to push against her emotional controls. Throughout their relationship, from coworkers to much more, she and Trip had engaged in several verbal disagreements. She knew Trip considered those disagreements contributed to the bedrock of their relationship. He often said those disagreements helped him become a better man. She challenged his preconceived notions, and he, hers. This dynamic was one that she shared with no one else. This was a dynamic that had not been lost over the decade and a half of their acquaintance. Trip was asking if this dynamic had been lost. If the bedrock of their relationship had been torn out. T'Pol hesitated to answer the unspoken question. "Trip…" She took a deep breath. "I am using all of my emotional control in this moment." He nodded.

"So you do want to throw me across the room." T'Pol did not dignify this with a response. He sighed and uncrossed his arms, all the fight seeming to leave his body. "I don't know what I'm doing, or why I'm here." He ran a hand through his hair. "What was the point of surviving Section 31 if there was nothing on the other side?"

"What do you mean?" She asked. Trip scrunched his eyebrows together.

"I mean I have no home, no family. No prospects. I don't even exist." He deflated, and pulled out the remaining stool, sitting on it with a thunk. "The thought of freedom, of being able to live my life," He swallowed, "with you, out of the shadows, is what kept me going. Now, I'm not even considered alive, and I fucked up the only thing going for me."

"Nothing is irretrievably lost, but rather, on the contrary, everything is irrevocably stored and treasured." T'Pol quoted a human author.

"What?"

"A quote that Admiral Archer once said to me. I believe it means that nothing is lost forever, rather is put away, until found again." T'Pol said, recalling the admiral's words. Trip nodded thoughtfully.

"And how does one find what is lost?"

"That remains to be seen."