Missing Scenes from Season Four: Bound

Part II

DISCLAIMER: All things Star Trek belong to CBS/Paramount. "Bound" was written by Manny Coto.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Many thanks, reviewers. And now, the conclusion… (It's way cooler if you imagine Jolene Blalock saying that.) Heads up that this one earns its T rating.

Also, here's a heads up about narrative flow after this. After the two Mirror Universe missing scenes that follow this one, I skip over to two missing episodes that would have taken place in the 'real universe' during the time of the MU episodes. I then return to the missing scenes with "Demons." You don't have to read those two missing episodes to follow along, but you will miss some interesting developments between Trip and T'Pol if you do. (Having said that, the missing episodes are general ensembles with strong TnT strands rather than purely TnT.)

T'Pol was confused.

Commander Tucker's affect had changed noticeably when they encountered each other in the white space, while his behavior in 'real time' had not changed at all – he still politely avoided contact with her, remaining professional and efficient, with perhaps an edge of impatience. At the Christmas party the captain had insisted on her attending the night before, she'd asked him what he wanted for Christmas, and he'd rather sourly said, "Peace on Earth, good will towards men. How about you?"

"Vulcans don't celebrate Christmas."

"I think that goes without saying," he'd said, and moved away from her.

But in the white space, a place where they now seemed to meet virtually every evening, it was different.

She focused on the flame in front of her, hoping to get in at least some of the meditation she sorely needed before she had to deal with this strange new Tucker again, only to discover him sitting cross-legged where the flame had been, staring back at her.

Thankfully, this time he was at least dressed in sweats and a t-shirt instead of his underwear. That should make it easier for her to concentrate.

"What's up, sweetheart?" he said.

She raised a puzzled eyebrow. "It has been some time since you last used any terms of endearment with me."

"I know. Why, do you miss it?"

She swallowed. Tucker seemed to be genuinely curious, rather than just needling her. "I certainly regret the extent to which hostility has replaced affection."

"So do I." He smiled tightly.

Could he actually mean that? If so, how could this be the same man she'd talked to the night before?

"Of course, I also miss your signs of affection for me," he added, with a smirk. "You never drop your robe for me anymore."

She breathed in sharply. He hadn't referenced their past intimate relationship at all since it had ended. "That would be rather problematic. You are never in my quarters."

"You haven't invited me to your quarters."

"You won't even eat meals with me. What would be the point of inviting you to my quarters?"

"Who says I won't eat meals with you?"

"We haven't shared a meal alone since…"

"Since you married Koss."

She could feel his surge of anger, and her heart began to beat faster. This was the first time they were really discussing the heart of the matter … at least in this space. She said, "And apparently you will never forgive me for that."

"Well … I'm trying. It's not easy."

"It's not particularly easy for me to forgive you, either."

His eyes widened. "Forgive me? For what?"

"You turned away from me, even as I chose you over the life I was supposed to lead on Vulcan. And then you left."

"Excuse me, darlin', but that was only after you had chosen reading Surak over me. What the hell was worth staying for after that?"

"You had made your decision long before that. Once you turned away, I knew that you could turn away. As a Human, you would inevitably become dissatisfied again with some aspect or another of our relationship. It was clearly wiser to let you go and focus on improving my emotional control, so that I could better cope with my solitary future."

He frowned, apparently considering her point. Then he leaned forward, enticingly close. "Is that still how you see it?"

She swallowed. "What do you mean?"

"I'm back now. Do you want me to go again?"

She couldn't entirely contain her frustration. "It doesn't matter what I want. You have made it quite clear that you intend to leave again."

He raised his chin. "What would you do to keep me?"

She stared at him. Was this real, or some sort of fantasy? Had she perhaps begun to doze off during meditation?

He leaned in again. "What would you do, T'Pol?"

Anything, she thought. I'll do anything. "What do you want me to do?"

He smirked. "You know me. I'm not that hard to please."

Her heart sped up. She did know him. She unbuttoned her pajama top.

His eyes visibly darkened. "Keep going."

She let the shirt drop, then rose from the floor, feeling quite flushed, and pushed her pajama bottoms down. This had to be a dream. She had often dreamed of sex with him while she was addicted to Trellium-D. And there had never been anything like this in their white space encounters before.

"Very nice," he said huskily. "Don't stop now."

She took a steadying breath and walked over to where he was sitting cross-legged on the floor. She lowered herself onto his lap.

He was plainly aroused. How very gratifying that was. He stared into her eyes and his hands grasped each of her hips. There was no startling current of connection as there so often was in real life, no distinctive Tucker smell, but it felt quite agreeable anyway.

"Kiss me," he said.

She leaned forward and kissed him, and soon he was plumbing her mouth with his tongue while one hand held her head steady and the other pulled her closer to him.

Eventually she ended up lying under him, whimpering in frustration as he did everything but what she most wanted him to do.

"T'Pol," he said. "Look at me. Look at me." He stared down at her intently. "Are you mine?"

"Yes," she moaned.

"For good? Forever?"

Given the inevitability that one of them would eventually die, that was not a particularly logical way of looking at it, but there were times when T'Pol could guess that logic would not be well-received. "Yes. I'm yours, Trip. Forever."

"Don't you forget it," he growled, and finally, finally, finally claimed her as his own again.

Afterwards, she lay entwined with him and nosed the skin of his neck as he softly caressed her bare back. She wished she could smell him, but there was no smell here other than the scent of her candles.

The pleasure had been intense, and it surely felt as if something significant had passed between them, but had any of this really happened?

Was she perhaps simply 'cracking up', as white-space Trip would put it?

And then he was gone, and she was just sitting in her quarters, still in her pajamas, staring at the meditation flame in front of her.

x x x

The next morning at breakfast, she once again followed him into the mess hall. Once again he filled a plate, exchanging only a polite greeting with her, and went over to Sato's table. This time T'Pol decided to press the matter further.

"May I join you?" she asked the pair.

"Of course, Commander," Ensign Sato said, with a smile.

Tucker didn't even look up, focusing instead on his food.

"How are your repairs coming?" she asked Tucker.

He swallowed a mouthful. "Fine. It's like tuning the engines from scratch, though. It's going to take awhile before they're back to peak efficiency."

"It is fortuitous, then, that this new mission will further delay your return to Columbia."

"Well, it shouldn't take long. Hopefully Kelby will pick up a few tricks along the way, and you'll be in better hands when I go."

She stared at him.

He stared blandly back at her.

Had it been a dream?

x x x

Later she went to engineering. Perhaps a slightly more direct inquiry was warranted. She asked him if he had been experiencing any unusual daydreams.

He said no.

She left, immensely frustrated. There was something about the way he'd rebuffed her – perhaps it was the way he'd crowded into her space as he did so, or his oddly confident posture - that suggested he might be playing some kind of game with her.

Either that, or she really had imagined or dreamed or hallucinated the whole thing.

But then T'Pol had other issues to manage, including a captain and crew that was rapidly becoming completely irrational after prolonged exposure to three Orion females in skimpy clothing.

Every male on the ship was compromised – every male except Trip. Surely this was objective evidence that he was just as bonded to her as she was to him? There probably could be no better test of his attachment to her in the universe.

Unfortunately, she had no idea how he would react to this news.

x x x

Three days ago! Three days ago, he'd asked for a transfer back! And the whole time, he'd been pretending he was still leaving.

He had intentionally withheld the information! He had provoked her until she acted out of sheer desperation.

And he had plainly exulted in what he had driven her to do right there in the corridor, where any crewman might have come across them.

She stopped and considered. On the plus side, she had gotten to kiss him again – the real him, in real time. She could still taste him on her lips. And his gaze had been affectionate. He apparently intended to be magnanimous in his victory.

Somehow, losing this particular contest of wills was not nearly as disagreeable as she might have expected.

Of course, that didn't mean she intended to lose any more of them.

The End