Disclaimer – I do not own any of these characters, they all belong to Paramount.
Summary – Set after the events of ‘Terra Prime’. After the death of Elizabeth, Trip and T’Pol are both sent on bereavement leave, and Trip persuades T’Pol to come home to meet his parents.

Note - This is a separate story from the ones I wrote for HoT, which are also separate stories in themselves and not part of a series. I realised after I had posted them that perhaps I should have put some form of disclaimer on them saying that they weren’t part of a series. I think it might have confused some people! Anyway, this story does have a sequel, which I am working on. I’ll keep you all posted.

Many thanks to Distracted for being an awesome Beta and pointing out all the discrepancies and also the British-isms!

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Trip glanced around his quarters. He was all packed. There was a suitcase by the door to his quarters. Money. Check. Passport. Check. Leave pass. Check. Phone mom and tell her when I’ll be arriving. Check. He was ready to return home... well, back to Earth. Since the Xindi attack had destroyed his home, he was going to his parents’ new home. They had moved to California, to a small town just on the coast, not far from San Francisco. Trip felt guilty about not having been home since the attack, but he wasn’t sure how he would have held it together if he had, so he had stayed away.

He had told his parents about Elizabeth. He’d called them at three in the morning after she had died, inconsolable with grief. He had seen T’Pol. They had spoken for a long time, and for the first time in months he felt like they were actually in tune with each other and could communicate honestly without fear of what the other would say in response. What was simply awful about it was that it had taken the death of their daughter to bring them, two sensible, rational, intelligent people, to that point. After they had talked until there was nothing more to say, he had returned to his quarters, alone, and called his parents. Once he had finished his story, both his parents had been in tears. Their response had been simple. “Come home.”

Captain Archer hadn’t given him the chance to say no. Trip still wasn’t sure why the captain had been so insistent, but Jon would not listen to any form of opposition. The day after Elizabeth’s death, he had called both Trip and T’Pol into his Ready Room.

“I’m placing the pair of you on mandatory bereavement leave, effective immediately. Get off the ship, go for walks, stay with friends, I don’t care what you do. Just take some time off, away from Enterprise.”

Of course, both Trip and T’Pol had insisted that they were fit for duty, but Archer had been unmoved. “Don’t argue with me, either of you. As of today you’re both on a two-week mandatory bereavement leave. I need you both fully functional. You’re not even close right now.” Trip realised that argument was pointless, and reluctantly acquiesced.

“Captain, who will replace us in our absence?” T’Pol had protested.

“Malcolm will assume your duties. I’m sure that Rostov and Hess can manage while Trip is away. In any case, it’s not your concern. The pair of you need to spend some time away from here, grieving for your daughter. What happens aboard Enterprise for the next two weeks is not your concern.” Archer replied.

He’d dismissed them after that, and Trip walked T’Pol back to her quarters. Neither of them said anything. They simply eyed each other warily. Trip noticed that T’Pol, who was thin anyway, had not been eating, and her uniform hung loosely from her body. She had dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep. He had no doubt that he didn’t look much better. They should have been comforting each other, sharing their pain and their tears. Instead, both of them sought solace alone, one voluntarily, the other not. T’Pol pressed the release on the doors to her quarters. They opened with a ‘swoosh’. She went to enter, but Trip grabbed her arm. He could tell she was upset. She didn’t chastise him for touching her in public.

“T’Pol...“ He tried to talk to her, but she didn’t appear to be in the mood for talking.

“Don’t, Trip,” she said, shooting him a warning look. He ignored it, and followed her into her quarters without waiting for an invitation. He sat down on the bed, and rubbed his forehead with his still-functioning hand. She took up residence next to the desk, placing some distance between them.

“I want you to come home with me,” he said without preamble.

“Come home with you?” she asked, surprised at his sudden boldness. This was the first time that he had demanded something from her.

He nodded. “What else were you gonna do?” he demanded. “Your mom’s dead, you’re not exactly popular on Vulcan at the moment, and we’ve just lost our daughter... so yes, T’Pol, I want you to come home with me!” He stared at her, expecting her to challenge him, to fight back at him, as she usually did. Instead, she simply sank into the chair behind her. “What, no logical, snappy comeback?” he asked snidely, and then felt awful for saying it when she glared at him.

“Stop being cruel,” she said.

“I’ll stop when you do,” he retorted, rising from the bed, closing the gap between them.

“Excuse me?” she replied. He could hear a tremor in her voice, the result of weariness, or resignation, perhaps. He pressed on regardless. They needed to talk to each other, and he was going to try, regardless of whatever obstacles she tried to place between them.

“Our daughter is dead, T’Pol! I’m not like you, I need to talk to people, her mother most of all! Instead, you shut yourself away from me, like always,” he replied, grief manifesting itself as anger: at Paxton, at her, at himself, at a situation that he had been forced into and had no way of controlling. He was in front of her in two long strides, bridging the gap between them with ease. His eyes bored into her. He hated doing this to her, but he needed to speak with her.

“We have talked,” she protested. Her voice held no conviction, only a slight weariness. Staring into her eyes, all the fight went out of Trip, and his shoulders sagged as grief overtook him

“Once! We’ve talked once! Can’t you see that I need you, T’Pol?” He was nearly in tears, begging her to understand that he needed to talk to her, to make her understand how he was feeling, how much it was tearing him apart. “First Lizzie, now Elizabeth! I can only take so much and I’m nearly at my limit, and all you can do is say ‘we have talked’ in that Vulcan voice of yours...“

What ever he was about to say was cut dramatically short as T’Pol stood up with a look of sudden fury on her face and shouted at him, “Shut up, Trip! Just shut up for once!”, striking her closed fist on the table as if to emphasise the point.

The force of her fist making contact with the table caused a slender blown glass vase covered in swirling patterns of deep mauves and reds to fall off the table. It shattered into large fragments when it hit the floor, and they both stared at the pieces scattered over the decking. “That was your mom’s,” Trip said, shaken. It was not like her to shout, and she never used slang. He softened a little.

“Yes, it was,” she muttered, not seeming to care about the vase. They both started to apologise simultaneously before stopping to let the other speak. T’Pol spoke first.

“I know that you consider me self absorbed and unfeeling, Trip. I also know that you need me to be here for you. I am trying, but I too have lost someone other than my daughter. My control is tenuous at the moment. Any more stressful situations and it may break altogether.” Her voice shook minutely at this admission. She stood erect with her eyes fixed on the glass fragments scattered on the floor.

“Can’t you forget your control just this once?” he said wearily, getting ever so slightly tired of hearing that excuse. Rather than rise to his barb, she bent down to begin to collect the pieces of the vase that were scattered at their feet.

“I do not wish to fight with you, Trip. I am tired of fighting with you,” she said in a resigned voice.

“You’re what?” he asked in disbelief. He joined her on his knees, using his one good hand to pick up the pieces of the vase.

“I am tired of fighting with you. When we spoke after Elizabeth’s death, it was the first conversation that we had shared for some time where we did not engage in an argument. Despite the topic we were discussing, it was . . . refreshing to converse with you without it degenerating into disagreement.”

Trip looked down at her bent head. She continued to gather up vase shards in silence. He sighed heavily, and then said softly, “I want you to come with me to my parents’ house. I can’t face them without you.” T’Pol looked up at him finally.

“And I have not said that I will not accompany you,” she replied, “I will return home with you.”

Trip picked up the final pieces of the vase, and struggled to contain his tears, focusing his gaze on the fragments of glass clutched in his hand rather than on the woman before him. “I’m sorry, T’Pol. I always seem to take my shitty moods out on you. I’m just so, so . . .” His voice trailed off as tears overwhelmed him. T’Pol took the shards of broken glass from his fingers with great care and laid them aside. Then she took his hands in hers in an attempt to comfort him. She could not seem to bring herself to embrace him. Maybe, he hoped, given time, she would be able to.

“I know,” she said. They stood up together, and for a moment pressed forehead to forehead, each silently comforting the other. Trip pressed his lips to her skin and broke away.

“I’m gonna go pack. Captain Archer said that a transport back to Earth will be leavin’ tonight. We’d best be on it. I told mom we were arrivin’ tomorrow afternoon,” said Trip briskly.

“You informed your parents I would be accompanying you? You had not consulted with me. I may have said no,” replied T’Pol, raising a brow.

“You might have, but they were insistent. They wanted to meet their granddaughter’s momma. I’ll meet you back here in two hours.”

 

Trip walked back to his quarters via Malcolm’s cabin.

“Hi Mal!” he announced with a sigh, walking into Malcolm’s quarters after a token stab at the bell and sitting heavily on the bed. Then he looked up and finally noticed that the security officer was dressed only in a towel. “Oh god... jeez... sorry! Have I come at a bad time?” Trip asked, not sounding at all remorseful. “You got Hoshi hidden in there?” he joked half-heartedly. The miserable look on Trip’s face took all the humour out of the remark, but Malcolm still blushed. “I wish! More like sweaty gym clothes!” He sat down on the bed. “You ok? I heard you’re going back to visit your parents. Sounds like the best place to be at the moment.”

“Yeah, I thought so too. T’Pol’s gonna come with me,” Trip said with a wistful smile.

“That’s good,” Malcolm replied. Trip’s silence led him to think that he’d made a major blunder. “Isn’t it?” he asked. The last thing he wanted was Trip crying on him. He couldn’t cope when women did it, never mind his best friend.

“No, Mal, you’re right. It is a good thing. A very good thing.” Trip ran his fingers through his hair in frustration, and then leaned forward, resting his arm on his legs. He looked in pain, and Malcolm wondered if Phlox had given him anything for it. Knowing Trip, Phlox had given him something, but he had refused to take it.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Malcolm asked.

Trip shook his head, but continued. “We need to talk, T’Pol and I. From what my parents’ve said, their place is on the beach, and it’s isolated, from what I can tell. I thought we could take walks, swim, do somethin’ other than fight and talk about Enterprise.”

“You mean talk about the two of you, and Elizabeth?”

“Yeah.” Trip sighed, smiling sadly. “I love her, Mal, and not just cos of Elizabeth or any of the stuff that happened before then. I don’t know when or how or why, but I love her. I need to tell her where I know there’s not gonna be any interruptions. After Elizabeth died the other night we talked for hours and hours,” he smiled sadly, “T’Pol said it was the first time in ages that we didn’t fight. She was right, and it felt good. For the first time in months, I felt like I understood her, and that she understood me.”

Malcolm remained silent, at a loss for words. He really was terrible in situations like these, especially when he was semi-naked. Instead, he patted Trip awkwardly on the back, attempting to hold his towel up with the other hand. “Look Trip, let me get changed, and we’ll talk about this properly, ok? Just give me 10 sec...“

Trip stood up, as if suddenly aware that he had simply barged into his friends’ quarters. “No, Mal. It’s ok. I’d best get to packin’ anyway. I’ll call you when I get home and let you know what’s happenin’.”

Malcolm nodded, smiling but still feeling rather awkward dressed as he was. “I’ll see you in a few weeks then. And Trip, if you ever do need to talk, well, I can’t guarantee I can offer any advice, but I’ll listen for as long as you want.”

Trip smiled. He seemed to know that Malcolm, emotionally challenged as he was at times, really meant it. “Thanks Mal, I appreciate it.” He turned to leave, but not before adding, “You should just ask her, y’know. Hoshi, I mean. Ask her out. I mean, you can risk your life on a security detail but you can’t ask one woman a simple question?”

“Don’t... really, just don’t! I think I spoke about two sentences to her today without getting tongue-tied,” replied Malcolm, exasperated with his own emotional ineptitude around women.

“Make your move, Mal! She’s interested. I swear! Haven’t ya seen how she looks at you during the Captain’s briefings?”

“No, I’m too busy trying to watch her without making it obvious!”

It was Trip’s turn to roll his eyes and shake his head. Then he checked his watch. If he didn’t hurry he would be late meeting T’Pol, and then they would miss their transport. “I’d better go pack. See you in a few weeks, Mal. Let me know if anything happens!” he said with a wink.

“I hope everything goes ok while you’re away, Trip,” replied Malcolm. He extended a hand while his other hand kept a firm grip on his soggy towel. “I hope you’re feeling better when you’re back.” The two men shook hands, and then Trip left, leaving a chilly Malcolm finally alone to get dressed.

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Trip made a quick stop at Engineering to check that everything was running smoothly and to leave a number and address where he could be contacted. Rostov nodded attentively as Trip talked to him, entering the information in the memo padd he kept in one of his jumpsuit’s voluminous pockets, even though Trip knew that nothing, not even a warp core breach, would make Rostov call him while he was away. Trip could tell that the man was uncomfortable around him now, as were many of his team. He knew that feeling well. He was always awkward around people who had recently suffered a loss. Even after his sister had died, he hadn’t known what to say to T’Pol when he’d learned of her mother’s death, and what words of condolence he did offer to people usually went wrong anyway. He turned to leave. He knew he had trained his team well and that Engineering would be well looked after while he was away.

“Sir?” Rostov’s voice stopped him as he was turning to leave.

“Lieutenant? Is something wrong? A problem?”

The young man shook his head, clearly uncomfortable. Then he put an arm on Trip’s shoulder. “I’m really sorry, sir,” he said softly.

Trip patted the young man’s hand, and nodded. “I know.”

“I lost my daughter a few years ago, before I joined Starfleet. My wife died in childbirth, and the baby with her,” admitted Rostov.

“God, I didn’t know,” replied Trip, horrified. He’d worked with this man for four years, yet he had never known. Suddenly he felt terrible. Rostov seemed to sense this, and attempted to allay his guilt.

“I never speak of it, sir. Brings back too many painful memories,” replied Rostov stiffly.

“How did you deal with it?” asked Trip in a sympathetic voice.

“I joined Starfleet,” he said. His eyes met his commanding officer’s. Trip saw sorrow there, and sympathy. “Sir, when you come back, if you ever need to talk, I’m here.”

Trip nodded, suddenly at a loss for words, and turned to go. He paused after taking a step, without looking back. “When I get back, we’ll have a long talk,” he said, before walking out of Engineering.

Before heading back to his quarters, he made a quick stop at Sickbay, where Phlox removed his sling and examined his arm. It had healed, more or less, but hurt some.

“Try not to place too much pressure on it, Commander,” Phlox had said sternly, as Trip exited Sickbay. The doctor received a nod in response. Once he was back at his quarters, Trip realised that he had spent longer than he’d realised running errands and saying goodbye to people, even though he would only be gone two weeks. They barely had enough time to reach the transport. He packed quickly, grabbing all the essentials and as many clothes as he could fit into his suitcase before zipping it closed.

He ran a quick hand through his hair and then raised his arm and sniffed to make sure he smelled all right before strolling towards T’Pol’s quarters. He suddenly felt very nervous about taking her home to meet his family. What would she think of them? What would they think of her? How would they try to comfort her? How would she respond? How would she react when he told her how he felt? Pushing these and many other questions aside, he pressed her door chime.

“Enter,” she said. She had changed out of her uniform, and was dressed casually in jeans, a simple white t-shirt, and worn sneakers. He was shocked. He had only ever seen T’Pol wearing off-duty clothes a few times. She was a snazzy dresser. He had never once seen her in just jeans and trainers. She looked almost human, if it had not been for the pointy ears. She noticed the look on his face.

“Is there something wrong with this attire? I purchased it during my posting in San Francisco, in order to blend in.”

Trip shook his head. “You look . . . well, I’ve just never seen you in Earth clothes. You look . . . ” His voice trailed off, but his expression was admiring. So beautiful, he thought. He noticed T’Pol eyeing his expression, but she chose not to reply immediately. Wonder if she realises that was a compliment? Was his next thought, which was confirmed when she did respond.

“Thank you,” she said, and picked up her suitcase. “Shall we go?

He nodded, and went to take her suitcase from her. She looked at him quizzically for a few seconds, and then handed it to him. The pair of them headed for the shuttle bay.

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The trip to Earth from Enterprise was uneventful. Trip’s parents, Catherine and Charles Jr., had agreed to meet them at San Francisco International Airport. From there the four of them would drive to Trip’s parents’ new home. After disembarking from the shuttle, Trip took the bags and scanned the crowds for his parents. T’Pol gave him a tolerant look. Although she was the stronger of the two of them, he’d insisted on being the one to carry the bags. It made no sense, but she refrained from arguing with him. The airport was crowded, but eventually, he pointed out his father, standing head and shoulders above the rest of the crowd. He waved. Charles Jr. recognised him immediately and waved back.

“Over here, T’Pol,” said Trip. He started walking towards his parents and motioned for her to follow, which she duly did.

She was greeted by a small, slim woman with delicate-looking features and a mop of ash blonde hair, and a man who showed her what Trip would look like in thirty years time. The similarity was uncanny: same height, build, eyes, nose and mouth, and the same grin when he saw his son, which soon turned into a very sad expression.

“Trip, son, I’m so sorry,” he said, giving his son a hug. His mother did the same. Trip embraced them for a long moment, looking as if he were enjoying the familiar feeling of finally being home. Then both of his parents stared at T’Pol. “Trip, aren’t you going to introduce us?” his mother asked.

“Sure,” he said with a hesitant smile. “Mom... Dad, this is T’Pol.” He paused a moment as if unsure of what else he should say. ”We serve together on Enterprise.”

T’Pol looked at him strangely. Why has he not informed them of who I am? Upon further reflection, she decided that perhaps he was doing his best. What would he have said? Somehow she didn’t think that this is T’Pol, the woman to whom I have been accidentally bonded for life, would have made a very good first impression.

“I am Elizabeth’s mother,” she said, deciding to volunteer some of the information herself.

Catherine smiled sadly, and pulled T’Pol into her arms for a hug. “I know honey, I know. We’ve heard so much about all Trip’s crewmates, especially you, even before...” T’Pol stiffened slightly at the embrace despite her determination to follow the customs of the humans who’d invited her to stay with them. Catherine seemed to sense her discomfort, and released her, stepping back as she spoke. Her voice trailed off, as if she were suddenly embarrassed. She smiled at T’Pol apologetically. “I’m Catherine, Trip’s momma,” she explained. “Most people call me Katie.” She turned to the man beside her. “This is my husband, Charles.” Catherine seemed to be genuinely trying to be welcoming, despite her tendency toward what T’Pol considered to be excessive physical contact in a public setting, and so T’Pol returned her greeting with a polite nod, her arms remaining firmly at her sides.

“We’re delighted to meet you at last,” continued Catherine. “I’m just so sorry it’s under these circumstances.” Her eyes shone with unshed tears. So did Charles Jr’s. T’Pol felt abruptly grateful for the effort they were obviously exerting not to cry in public.

“We’re so sorry about little Lizzie, T’Pol, and then when Trip told us you were both gonna come stay, we were so glad. Parents need each other during times like this,” Charles said, offering his hand to T’Pol, which, after a second of hesitation, she shook.

“I thank you for your condolences, Mr and Mrs Tucker... ,“ she began, before Katie interrupted.

“Katie and Charles, please! T’Pol, you’re family!” Katie said.

T’Pol could see Trip blushing bright red at that remark out of the corner of her eye. What exactly has he told them? she wondered. “It’s an honour to meet both of you. I can see the family resemblance,” she ventured pleasantly.

Charles took both bags from Trip. “Shall we get going?” he asked briskly. Then he led the way to the exit doors with the others trailing behind.

The day was warm and breezy as they exited the building. T’Pol stepped up to offer some assistance to Trip’s father in lifting the luggage into the trunk of the car. She couldn’t help but overhear Katie Tucker’s comment. It wasn’t her fault that Trip’s mother was unaware of the acuity of Vulcan hearing.

“She sure is pretty for a Vulcan,” Katy murmured. “Yup,” Trip agreed. “She sure is.”

T’Pol felt an illogical and unnerving warmth spread through her when she heard Trip’s response, but made no outward display of it. Perhaps once they had arrived at his parents’ home they would be able to speak properly.

 

The trip to Trip’s parents’ house was not long, and soon they could smell the ocean and feel the moisture from the sea in the air. “Here we are, home sweet home,” Katie said with a smile.

They had arrived at a large white house with big porch at the front and a garden in the front and back. There was a rickety-looking wooden staircase in the back garden, which led down to the beach. Trip could hear the waves lapping against the cliff, and the soothing rhythm was instantly calming to his frazzled nerves. The sun was gently setting, turning the sky deep shades of mauve and purple, casting long shadows of the house, and gently illuminating the sea with pinks and purples. There were no other houses close by. Trip breathed deeply of the warm night air. “It’s beautiful,” he murmured.

“You should see inside!” Katie exclaimed. “Charles’s spent months fixin’ it up. The place was a shell when we found it.”

“It is very serene,” T’Pol commented. She too breathed in the night air. It tasted warm and sweet, unlike the hard, dry, acrid air on Vulcan. She had never been to the beach before. The house before her was very unlike her mother’s home. She noticed that the roof was slightly slanted at the right end, and that Trip’s father had missed several areas while painting. But, none of that seemed to matter, and suddenly she felt very peaceful and at ease, finding an inner calm she had lacked for a long time. She looked at Trip. He was looking around, taking in the surroundings of his parents’ new home.

“Shall we go inside?” Katie asked, opening the door. Trip, T’Pol and Charles followed her inside. The hallway was slightly cool as they entered. It was long, branching off to a large sitting room on the left, a staircase on the right that went upstairs, and a kitchen straight ahead that looked out onto the back garden. “I’ll take the suitcases upstairs.” Charles said.

“You guys hungry?” Katie said. Trip looked at T’Pol.

“My ma makes the best catfish and pecan pie!” he said. She nodded. Katie beamed.

“Great, I’ll get started, you kids make yourselves comfortable.” Trip excused himself and went upstairs to the bathroom, leaving T’Pol alone with Katie in the kitchen.

“T’Pol, honey, just dry those plates for me?” Katie asked, handing T’Pol a dishtowel. She started drying without comment. There was silence for a while.

“So, you’re from Vulcan?” Katie asked. T’Pol could tell that she was attempting to engage in small talk, and so obliged her.

T’Pol nodded. “Yes, I lived there for some years until I joined the Vulcan space exploration programme. I spent several years on Earth before joining Enterprise.” T’Pol placed the first dry plate carefully on the counter and reached for another. Katy began setting the table.

“Really, where?” she asked while laying out small cloth mats at each place. T’Pol watched curiously. The dining halls on Enterprise used tablecloths. These smaller washable cloths beneath each plate were similar to what her mother had used, and eminently more practical. As she dried each plate, she took the opportunity to admire the Tuckers’ kitchen. It was large; perhaps the size of her mothers’ kitchen on Vulcan, but that was where the similarity ended. It was decorated in shades of pale blue and yellow, with small terracotta tiles on the floor. T’Pol noticed that the dining room and kitchen were actually one room, which was probably easier when cooking in terms of transferring dishes from the stove to the table. The table itself was large and oval shaped, and made from what appeared to be pine or oak. The overall impression T’Pol had of the room was one of comfort and warmth, and she found herself quite at ease in the new surroundings.

“San Francisco, and some time in Sacramento,” replied T’Pol, stacking a second plate atop the first.

“You’re a long way from home,” said Katy sympathetically. T’Pol found herself warming to the woman. She seemed to understand a lot of things. How much does she know about Trip’s relationship and mine? she found herself wondering, and not for the first time that day. The way Katy had looked at her when they had first met indicated that she knew a lot more than she alluded to.

“Yes, I am. It can be quite difficult at times,” T’Pol admitted.

“How long have you known Trip?” asked Katie. She opened a drawer next to the sink and retrieved some cutlery, which she then placed on the table.

Ah, thought T’Pol. She does suspect something . . .

“Since the beginning of Enterprise’s mission. Our relations were initially . . . confrontational,” she replied honestly.

Katie laughed. “That’s our Trip all right! He always did have a temper on him!”

“Indeed,” replied T’Pol dryly.

There was silence for a few more minutes. T’Pol finished her assigned task and assisted the older woman with completing the table preparation. Trip’s mother seemed a bit uncomfortable. T’Pol searched for a few words of small talk to restart the conversation.

“You have a beautiful home, Mrs. Tucker,” she said.

“Call me Katie, T’Pol, and thank you,” said Katy Tucker with a grateful smile. “Granted, it’s not our home in Florida. Now that was beautiful, but, well . . .” Her voice trailed off, and the pair of them stared out of the window for a few minutes. T’Pol’s eyes fell on a picture on the window frame. She remembered it being taken. It was of Captain Archer, Trip and herself during an away mission. Trip had his arm thrown round her shoulders. She was standing looking stiff; probably concerned with sensor readings, or that they were wasting time posing for photographs. That had been before the Xindi, before the neuropressure. Before Elizabeth. A trace of a smile played around her lips at the memory of a more innocent time, when they had been simply explorers. The Xindi had changed them in innumerable ways, and not all for the better. Her treatment of Trip during their time in the Expanse, after they had been intimate, had been illogical and cruel. Perhaps she could remedy that during their leave.

 

Upstairs, Charles was showing Trip the rest of the house. It was beautiful. Trip was already starting to feel at home there.

“I’ve put you guys in here.” Charles said, opening a door to Trip’s room. It was decorated in pale blue, with a double bed and window overlooking the garden, which was in full bloom. Trip admired the mass of leaves and petals that his parents had created.

“It’s not like that, Dad. She’s just a friend,” Trip said firmly. Charles looked confused.

“But you said she was Elizabeth’s mother,” he protested in a bewildered tone.

“She is, but it’s not like that. I’ll have to explain it later.” The beginnings of a grin on his face and the look in Charles’ eyes said something else.

“She’s just a friend? Not by the way she’s looking at you she’s not!” he teased.

“Dad, I’m not in any shape to be havin’ a relationship with anyone right now. I just want to grieve for my kid,” countered Trip wearily, moving away from the window, feeling the sudden need to be close to his father, to feel his reassuring physical presence, as he had since he was a little boy. As he had grown older, he had required it less, but now he needed it more than he had ever thought possible. The two men stood in the doorway to the bedroom; Trip leaned against the doorjamb, Charles next to him.

“I know, but I’m just sayin’...“ Charles persisted.

“I know.” Trip gave his dad a look that said ‘drop it’, and quickly moved the two suitcases to the end of the bed. The pair of them made their way downstairs, to find T’Pol and Katie in the kitchen. Katie was stirring something in a pot, and T’Pol was inhaling deeply. “Very aromatic,” she said.

The kitchen was decorated in a similar fashion to their old place in Florida; blues, yellows, and those terracotta tiles that his parents had bought from a hardware chain store that his mom had fell in love with the first time she had set eyes on them. She’d probably dragged his poor dad around every hardware store in all of California until she found some that were identical. A battered table, which Trip recognised to have belonged to his grandparents, was set for four. The absence of a fifth place made Trip’s throat feel very full and heavy, but he forced it away. His mom, meanwhile, was laughing at T’Pol’s comments on her cooking. He caught T’Pol’s eye.

“You wanna go for a walk?” Trip asked T’Pol. She nodded.

“You have a lovely family.” T’Pol said, once they were some distance from the house. They leaned against the fence at the end of the front garden. Trip could feel the hot summer breeze gently whipping through his hair, and watched it play havoc with T’Pol’s usually immaculate locks. She looked incredibly beautiful, and he longed to take her in his arms and hold her, to share his grief, which was currently weighing him down so heavily he didn’t know how he would ever move it.

He smiled sadly. “Thanks. I wish you coulda met Lizzie,” he said wistfully. “She was somethin’ else. I miss her so much.” He was silent, his thoughts on his sister. T’Pol placed her hand gently over his left hand, and Trip felt a little of his grief dissipate. “Thank you for inviting me here,” she said. He smiled. It was not like her to express gratitude.

“I’m really glad you’re here, T’Pol,” he murmured softly, casting his eyes out towards the road that they had driven along only a few hours ago. He shifted his body slightly so that his right hip was leaning against the fence, and put his good hand over hers, intertwined their fingers. Her hands were dry, soft, and wonderfully warm. If she objected to the further physical contact, she made no mention of it, and Trip felt his grief dissolve a little further.

“I admit, I too am . . . comforted by this place.” Trip’s heart surged at her response, and a small part of him entertained the hope that this awful situation wasn’t completely hopeless.

“After dinner we’ll go for a walk along the beach and talk.” He said, his gaze fixed on the view from the fence of the road and his parents’ car.

He expected her to ask ‘why’, but instead she simply nodded in agreement. “We have some things to discuss.”

“I’m glad you said that, didn’t want to have to start fight...“ T’Pol cut him short by quickly kissing him. Her lips, like her hands, were deliciously soft and warm, but the kiss was different from the previous times. There was no searing passion as there had been the first time their lips had met, nor was there any of the confidence that had almost blown his head off after he had transferred back to Enterprise from the Columbia. Instead, this kiss was almost like a very first kiss; shy, tentative, unsure. Her lips were firmly closed against his until he moved his hand up her arm, resting it on her shoulder, and gently teased her lips with feather-light and coaxing kisses. After a few seconds of his gentle pressure, her mouth relaxed somewhat, allowing his tongue to move along her lower lip. Please don’t let this be another experiment , he silently pleaded, marvelling at the feel of her in his arms again.

Seeming suddenly embarrassed, she broke the kiss and looked away, concentrating on the view as the sun set. “You have honoured me by telling your parents about me,” she said. Her sudden change of subject, not to mention the fact that, once again, she had set his heart racing simply by touching him, threw him somewhat, and he eyed her curiously.

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re the mother of my child! You mean more to me than anyone!” Trip said, still reeling from her kiss. He had wanted to have this conversation with her after dinner, when he could collect his thoughts and talk to her without rushing it and saying all the wrong things, but they seemed to have stumbled into it anyway. He had promised himself that he was going to be straight with her about his feelings, and, so far, so good.

“I did not realise that you thought so highly of me,” she said in a bemused tone, with her eyes still focused on the sunset.

Trip gently touched her shoulder. “T’Pol, you mean more to me than anyone. I mean that.” He reached out with gentle fingers and tipped her chin, turning her head around to face him. When she lifted her eyes to his, he saw the doubt and uncertainty in them.

“Really?” she almost whispered.

Trip cut off anything else she was about to say by lowering his head and lightly brushing his lips over hers. The hitch in her breathing told him all that he needed to know. He pulled her towards him, wincing inwardly as she knocked his still damaged arm, but before he could deepen the kiss, he heard his mother call for dinner.

 

Trip had never seen T’Pol eat anything other than raw vegetables or fruits, so he was very surprised to see that she devoured everything but the catfish itself, and seemed to enjoy the pecan pie that his mom had made. He had been dreading coming to this new home, but now he felt oddly at peace here. It wasn’t home in Florida, but that house wasn’t there anymore. Perhaps this house would soon feel like home.

Later, he stole a glance at T’Pol as she stood washing the dinner dishes. She had been most insistent after dinner that she and Trip clean the kitchen after his mom had cooked them dinner, and so now they stood, T’Pol washing, wearing a pair of rubber gloves to keep her hands dry, and Trip drying, feeling the residual heat from the stove warming the kitchen. She was intently washing the dishes with a small cluster of bubbles on the end of her nose. Both of them stood in companionable silence for some time, Trip revelling in the chance to be alone with her again. His parents had wisely retreated outside, vaguely mentioning something about going for a walk, and silently, Trip had thanked them for it.

“T’Pol, you got some bubbles...“ He moved towards her to wipe it off with his dishtowel, pausing a moment longer than was necessary after he had finished, looking deeply into her eyes. She blinked first, and returned her attention to the dishes. Trip cleared his throat.

“What do you wanna do tomorrow?” he asked, carefully stacking the dry plates before returning them to the cupboard.

“What do you mean?” she responded, her eyes fixed firmly on the soapy water. Her hands roamed beneath the surface for several seconds before they reappeared with a clutch of cutlery.

“Well, I dragged you out here. I thought we might as well do somethin’ now that we’re here. I want us to spend this time together, T’Pol, doin’ fun things, relaxing’, not thinkin’ about Enterprise. Y’know, try to heal each other a little?” All the things he wanted to say to her seemed to be slipping out now, but he carried on anyway.

“Do you not want to spend the time with your parents?” T’Pol asked. She placed the clean knives and forks on the draining board.

“Yeah, I do, but I also want this trip to be about us. How about we go into San Francisco and explore? I’m sure mom and dad would like to join us. We could get some lunch, have a walk around, y’know, nice and relaxing?”

“Yes, that would be agreeable. It has been some years since I visited San Francisco. Are you going to leave those items there, or put them away?” She motioned to the untouched cutlery. Shooting her a wry grin, Trip dried them and put them away.

 

After they had finished washing the dishes, the pair sat outside on the two-seater porch swing, Trip gently rocking it using his left foot, drinking from a can of beer. T’Pol contented herself with tea. For several minutes they simply sat together in companionable silence, looking at the night sky and feeling the warm breeze around their bare toes. Trip set his half-empty beer can down on the porch and then put his hand over T’Pol’s. “Thanks for comin’, T’Pol,” he said. “It really means a lot to me.” He smiled at her gratefully. “You just bein’ here makes it so much easier, after Lizzie and everything. I thought it would be weird: new house, new stuff in the new house, new neighbourhood, new everything. But it’s not. It feels like home, and I feel almost guilty about it, like I should be sad.”

T’Pol placed her teacup beside his beer can and then turned to look at him. “You have nothing to feel guilty for,” she whispered. Both of them knew she was not just talking about his new house.

“I keep thinking about all the stuff I could have done differently,” he whispered back. His hand gently caressed her face, running her silky hair through his fingers. He felt her tremble.

“As do I,” she whispered.

Trip pulled her towards him, kissing her frantically, needing to touch her. A small clanging noise, followed by a wetness on his right foot, alerted him to the fact that he had knocked his beer can, and probably her teacup over. She returned his kisses eagerly. He slipped his tongue inside her mouth, running it along her bottom lip. He heard her moan and felt her open her lips further, allowing him full access to her mouth. He could feel her small hands tangled in his hair, feel the intense heat radiating off her body, and feel the chaotic beating of her heart. The sound of Trip’s parents returning from their walk interrupted them. T’Pol leapt away from Trip as though he were on fire, smoothing down her hair and reaching for her tea. Trip did the same with his beer, only to remember, to his horror, that his toes were now covered in beer, and the can had rolled somewhere. He was sure his cheeks were burning.

“You guys coming inside?” Charles asked, bending down to retrieve the empty can, which had rolled off the porch. He gave his son a knowing smile

Trip nodded, smiling uncomfortably. “In a bit, Dad,” he replied.

“We’ll see you inside in a little while then.” Charles said, his eyes dancing in amusement. Trip could feel his blush deepen that little bit further.

After Trip’s parents had gone inside, he turned to look at T’Pol. Her eyes remained fixed on her tea. “Do you wanna go for a walk?” he asked, hoping that she would say yes. The look in her eyes suggested that she would, and she nodded, and rose from the porch swing, extending a hand toward him. He smiled up at her and took it, standing to join her. They walked hand in hand down to the beach. Katie and Charles’ house overlooked the beach, and it only took them a few minutes to walk down onto it. Soon they were on the beach. After a little persuasion, Trip persuaded T’Pol to remove her shoes and let the sand trickle between her toes. After a few minutes of walking in sneakers and realising that they would rapidly fill with sand, she obliged, and the pair walked along the beach barefoot. Trip marvelled at the feel of the sand between his toes, and listened to the roar of the waves. It had been years since he had been to a beach and done this; the last time had been with Lizzie. He blinked away tears, and squeezed T’Pol’s hand a little tighter.

Neither of them said anything as they sat down on one of the large rocks that overlooked the beach. It was high enough off the sand and far enough from the waves to prevent them from getting wet, but also afforded them a magnificent view of the ocean. The night sky was warm on their faces, bathing them in the afterglow of the sun. T’Pol closed her eyes. She seemed to be listening to the roar of the waves and enjoying the feel of surf on her face and the wind whipping at her hair. Trip sensed a calmness about her despite her obvious pain over Elizabeth’s death. He smiled sadly. He had hoped that she would be as comforted by this place as he was.

“I have never been to a beach before,” she whispered.

“What! You’re kiddin’ me! You lived in San Francisco but never went to a beach?” Trip looked at her incredulously, refusing to believe that she had never been to a beach before.

“Not like this. The Science Directorate organised a field expedition to study the marine life. The beach was . . . different.” Her words seemed disconnected from her body, and Trip sensed that she was remembering the experience.

“How, T’Pol, tell me, how was it different?” he asked her softly, silently willing her to talk to him some more, to share her life and experiences with him. Her eyes remained closed as she continued.

“It was crowded, there were lots of people. Some were playing a game I believe is called volleyball, but we were at the other end of the beach. I was wearing my uniform, and had sand in my shoes. After the trip was over, and it was dark, I went back, alone. There was a party; music, a fire, dancing. It was not . . . serene, like this place is. I could spend a lot of time at this place.”

Trip was watching her. She had never looked so beautiful. It was only then that he saw a single tear escaping from her closed lids. “T’Pol? Are you ok?” he asked, concerned. He didn’t think T’Pol had ever cried, at least, not in front of him. She nodded, but another tear fell, and then another. He gently wiped them away with his thumb.

“It’s so beautiful,” she murmured, opening her eyes. Trip gazed into their tear-filled depths for a moment, and then looked away, suddenly overcome by the intensity of his grief. He looked out over the surf, and then swallowed, holding back his own tears.

“When we found out about Elizabeth, I promised myself that I’d bring us all to the beach. I grew up near a beach, spent all summer there every year. I love it. I promised myself I’d bring you to one as well, just the two of us.” He watched her struggle to rein in her own emotions, and saw for the first time just how deeply Elizabeth’s death had affected her.

“I am glad you did,” she said, watching him intently as he studied her.

“In my mind it was gonna be a bit more romantic,” he smiled wryly, looking away. In his mind, he had planned to do a lot of things with her, romantic, passionate things. What he had not planned to do was grieve for their dead daughter.

“Vulcans are not romantic,” she reminded him, resting her hand atop his knee.

“Vulcan’s don’t cry either,” he drew a deep breath before speaking to her. He couldn’t wait any longer. He simply had to get it off his chest. He looked at her again. She was still gazing at him with those eyes.

“T’Pol, I love you,” he admitted. “I’ve loved you for so long, but Elizabeth’s death made me realise just how much, and one of the reasons I brought you here was to tell you how I felt.” He reached out to touch the side of her face with gentle fingers. “I need you, T’Pol, and I want you,” he confessed. T’Pol opened her mouth as if to speak, and he placed his fingertips on her lips to silence her, smiling. “I’ve wanted to tell you for so long, but I’ve been too scared, and I promised myself before we came here that I was gonna be honest, with no sneakin’ round each others’ feelings like we do on Enterprise, but me just tellin’ you, man to woman, with no interruptions, no Hoshi or the captain on the communicator interrupting us, no gossip mongers in the mess that make me feel like I’ve got to watch how much time I spend with you, just me and you. I love you, and I wanna be with you,” he finished in a rush, all in one breath.

She gazed at him with a question in her eyes. “Your feelings are not clouded by Elizabeth’s death?” she asked. He shook his head, and took her hands in his.

“For once, my thoughts are perfectly clear. C’mon, T’Pol, I’m offerin’ you my heart on a platter here!”

“What about Romeo and Juliet?” she asked.

“What?” He looked confused.

“Several months ago, you said that Romeo and Juliet would have had a better chance of a successful relationship than we do. I did some research using the Starfleet database. They were a pair of...“ Trip interrupted her with an amused chuckle, shaking his head.

“T’Pol, I know who the hell they were. Just tell me, yes or no!” Trip insisted with a laugh, taking her face in his hands.

“Yes,” she whispered, “Your feelings are reciprocated.” Then the corners of her mouth turned up minutely in a subtle but unmistakeable smile. Trip returned her smile incredulously, and pulled her towards him, kissing her hungrily. Any residual shyness or awkwardness that had existed between them had vanished.

“Swim with me?” he asked a few moments later, after they’d come up for air. She looked at him, and then looked at the sea doubtfully.

“Is the water clean?” she asked, looking dubious.

“Should be,” he replied, chuckling when he noticed that her expression did not change.

“I don’t have a bathing suit.” she said, raising a very Vulcan eyebrow.

He grinned mischievously at her. “Me, neither.”

“I cannot swim,” she replied. A suggestion of a smile played at her lips

“I’ll show you,” he countered, his grin maturing into a full-blown smirk.

After a few moments’ consideration, she nodded. “Very well.”

 

Without further response, T’Pol unzipped her jeans and peeled off her t-shirt. She was not wearing any underwear, and wandered, almost sauntered, towards the water. Trip’s gaze never left her, and he seemed fascinated by the sight of her body under the moonlight, nearly breaking his neck in an attempt to get out of his clothes while keeping his eyes on her. She stopped at the water’s edge, watching as the tide came towards her with something resembling anxiety. She expected the water to be cold, but instead, it was deliciously warm, and trickled between her toes and up her legs. Trip joined her at the water’s edge, and, taking her hand, led her into the water.

“I am not sure this was a good idea,” she murmured fearfully, her eyes darting between the unknown of the water and the pleasing curves and planes of Trip’s naked body. How could I have ever referred to him as an experiment? she asked herself, feeling her eyes being drawn towards him more and more as he led her into the water.

She walked until she could no longer feel the sand beneath her, and when that happened, instinctively she moved closer to Trip, her arms curled around his neck. They stayed like that for several minutes, him treading water for both of them, their eyes fixed only on each other, each trying to comprehend what the other had just said to them. Their bodies were pressed together in the water, and the feel of his naked, wet body pressed against hers was so deliciously decadent that it almost made her forget her fear. T’Pol moved her arms from around his neck so they were resting on his chest, feeling his hard torso with her fingers, gently stroking the smattering of dark brown curls that covered his chest. Her face was inches from his.

“How do you like the sea?” he asked.

“It is . . . an interesting sensation,” she said shakily.

“You warm enough?” he asked her huskily, pressing himself even closer. She could feel his desire for her. She brought his face towards hers, kissing him passionately, wrapping her legs around his. Trip kissed her back until they began to sink, and T’Pol feared that he was going to drown them both unless he got them to the shore. Before she had the chance to panic, he pulled her back towards the shore, and they found that the rock they had just vacated provided them with perfect cover. Once they were out of the water, he lowered her down onto the sand. She moaned softly as he made love to her even more tenderly than he had the first time she’d given in to her desire for him, and she reveled in being with him again. Afterwards, they lay together naked, enjoying the feel and sound of the waves lapping at their toes and the sensation of skin against skin, bathed in moonlight.

 

Trip awoke the next morning at seven and opened one eye sleepily, only to find the other side of the bed empty. He rolled over onto his side and looked around the room. The bed was messed up, with half of the duvet strewn on the floor, the other half on the bed. The shower was running. Downstairs he could hear his mom humming to herself. He looked at himself beneath the covers. He was naked. Did I imagine last night? he thought, and then noticed a bite mark on his shoulder. Shit! I didn’t imagine it! His eyes fell on the clothes he and T’Pol had been wearing the night before. They were folded neatly on the chair next to the bed. That meant that what they had said to each other at the beach was real. Their sex on the beach, and on the floor of their bedroom, and, finally, on the bed, was all real. The shower stopped, and a few moments later T’Pol walked in, wearing nothing but a towel. Her hair was plastered down, her cheeks slightly flushed from the shower. She looked amazing.

“Good morning,” she said. He smiled at her, feeling a flush creep up his neck. She dropped the towel and began to dress. He rolled out of bed and grabbed her towel from the floor, wrapping it around his waist. For some reason, it felt awkward to be naked while she was dressing, despite them having had sex several times. He ducked into the bathroom and took a swig from the bottle of mouthwash before walking back into the bedroom and stepping up behind her to nuzzle her neck as she combed her hair in the mirror.

“Good morning yourself! Sleep well?” he murmured.

“Very well, thank you,” she told him, lifting her chin to give him better access to her neck. Her expression was smugly pleased. Trip leaned over to kiss her. She tasted of toothpaste and smelled of citrus shampoo. “Last night was amazing,” he whispered. She gently touched his face.

“I found it pleasurable also,” she replied ironically.

“Always the romantic, hey T’Pol?” he teased. She looked at him, almost sternly.

“We will continue this discussion when we return from San Francisco. We will be leaving in approximately forty minutes. You need to dress and eat.” With that, she moved away from the mirror and out of his reach, and began to dress. Grinning broadly, Trip moved towards the bathroom to take a shower.

 

The last thing Trip wanted to do that day was drag around San Francisco with his folks, but once they got going, he began to enjoy himself. His dad drove, his mom sat in the front passenger seat, and he sat with T’Pol in the back passenger seat. Trip had gotten a quick shower and changed into a pair of jeans, white vest and a blue shirt left untucked and unbuttoned, before bolting downstairs for breakfast. T’Pol was already seated, eating a bowl of fresh fruit and drinking a cup of mint tea. “Good mornin’,” he said, giving his mom a peck on the cheek.

“Mornin’ son, sleep well?” Katie asked, giving her son a knowing smile that made Trip blush.

“Uh yeah, Mom, like a log,” Trip mumbled.

Now, forty minutes later, the wind in his hair, the sun on his face, T’Pol next to him, Trip felt almost normal. He gently placed his hand over hers and squeezed. She looked at him with a small smile forming in the corner of her mouth and squeezed back. She looked beautiful that morning, dressed simply in a pale blue t-shirt and cream linen trousers, the wind whipping at her hair. He wanted this leave to last forever. He wanted to stay where they could be T’Pol and Trip instead of Commander T’Pol and Commander Tucker; where they could spend lazy days and nights talking, swimming, meditating, walking, making hot, passionate love on the beach, and not having to face the reality of going back to Enterprise, where there were rules and regulations against officer fraternization. He also knew that his parents wanted to talk about Elizabeth. They had wanted to bring it up yesterday, but he had needed just one day of not talking about it, not to try to forget her, but just to put it to the back of his mind for a few hours. His heart ached at the thought of her. He wished that he could have brought her home to meet her grandparents. They would have adored her. He looked away, tears suddenly pricking at his eyes.

T’Pol squeezed his hand. He could feel her sympathy and shared grief through the bond they shared, a bond they’d been conveniently ignoring up to now. He decided that maybe it was time to have a talk about it that evening.

 

The four split up once they got into San Francisco, but agreed to meet for lunch later that day. Trip and T’Pol wandered around, looking at a few shops, but mostly just enjoying each others’ company, both of them letting down their defences a little. “I don’t remember the last time I shopped for civilian clothes.” T’Pol remarked as they passed another clothes shop.

“Do you want to go in any of them?” Trip asked.

Too late, she had already ventured into one shop, and was admiring a figure-hugging sweater in dusky pink. Trip found what looked like her size and held it up to her. “Try it on,” he suggested.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “It would be highly illogical for me to try this item on. I already have off-duty clothes. I do not need any more. I rarely wear them.”

“Sometimes clothes shopping is more about what you want than what you need, T’Pol. Now try it on.” Reluctantly, she slipped the sweater over her head. It fit like a glove and suited her skin colouring perfectly.

“Wow,” Trip said with a broad grin. “You look beautiful.” T’Pol took it off and handed it back to Trip, who had the hanger clutched in his hand.

“Satisfied?” she asked, giving him a look that contained mild exasperation mixed with clear amusement. A sales assistant approached them.

“Everything all right, sir?” he asked. Trip nodded and handed him the sweater.

“We’ll take this,” he said. The sales assistant beamed, and took it to the register.

“What are you doing?” T’Pol asked him quizzically.

“I’m buying you a sweater,” Trip said, handing the sales assistant his credit card and flashing T’Pol a smile.

“I did not ask you to buy it for me,” T’Pol said in protest. He ignored her.

“No, but I want to. Call it a memento of our trip.” Signing the receipt, Trip handed the bag to her. Wordlessly, she took it. As soon as they were away from the sales counter she put it on. Trip reached up to her neck and gently removed the tag.

“Don’t want you settin’ the alarms off,” he said. They looked at a few more shops before heading over to the restaurant to meet Trip’s parents. They were early, and so took a table and ordered drinks: water for T’Pol, cola for Trip. They sat in silence for a few minutes until T’Pol spoke.

“Thank you for my sweater, Trip. You didn’t have to buy it for me. I would have bought it myself,” she said to him. He looked at her. Her mouth was a flat line, but her eyes were sparkling with something that told him she was very pleased that he had bought her the sweater.

Trip took her hand in his. She looked at him, then down at the sight of her small, elegant hand encased in his larger, slightly rougher one, looking surprised by his outward display of affection. “This is Earth, T’Pol. Trust me. People do a hell of a lot more than hold hands in public,” he told her with a teasing smile, “And, you’re welcome. It suited you, and you looked beautiful, and I wanted to buy it for you.” There was silence for a few more minutes. Trip stabbed the ice in his glass with his straw with one hand and kept a secure hold on her with the other.

“Thank you again for inviting me to stay with your parents,” she said. Trip sighed and shook his head with a smile.

“You’ve already thanked me, several times, and it’s still ok. Look, T’Pol, I gotta tell you, my parents, well, they know how I feel about you. Written all over my face, apparently. They think we’re an item, y’know, dating.”

“And are they wrong in their assumptions?” T’Pol asked.

“Well, that all depends on you. You know how I feel about you, and I know how you feel about me, but are we gonna act on those feelings?”

“I presume you mean pursue a romantic relationship,” she said.

His brow creased in confusion. Did she did not understand what he was getting at? “Yeah,” he said, hoping to clarify the situation.

“I thought that we agreed last night that we would,” T’Pol said, her own brow knotting, almost unnoticeably to anyone other than Trip. How he could recognise her moods was a mystery to him, but he could see definite frustration lines wrinkling her forehead.

“Did we?” he asked, unsure whether he had missed a part of their conversation

“We were intimate... several times, I believe,” she responded by way of an explanation.

“We’ve been intimate before and I got called a lab rat,” he countered.

“Those were your words, Trip,” she responded. There was a slight edge to her voice, and Trip could sense an argument brewing. Well, they hadn’t had one for a whole thirty-six hours. They had one due.

“I know they were my words, T’Pol,” he explained, attempting to diffuse the situation, “but you did refer to me as an exploration.”

“I didn’t know that you required a relationship afterwards, “ she said.

“I didn’t. I mean, one would have been nice, but I didn’t require one,” he replied, attempting to clarify what was becoming quite an obtuse conversation.

“Neither did I,” she replied.

“But you do now?” Trip wanted to put his head in his hands. It felt as though they had regressed eighteen months, back to what had to be the worst morning-after talk Trip had ever had. They had talked around each other then, and they seemed to be doing it now.

T’Pol seemed to sense his mounting frustration, and elaborated. “We have had at least two offspring that we are aware of, although Elizabeth was not planned. Most of the crewmembers are aware that we hold each other in high regard. I know that you care for me, and I regard you highly...“

“Hold on, you regard me highly, but you don’t love me? That’s not what you were sayin’ last night!” Despite his best efforts, Trip could fell himself getting angry with her.

“You have misunderstood me. That is not what I mean. I understand the depth of your feelings, and mine share that depth. It is very difficult for Vulcans to say ‘love’. My point is, now that both of us are aware of how we regard each other, it is logical to pursue a relationship,” she responded.

“Logical, huh? What about Starfleet’s non-fraternization policy?” He said, thinking it best to raise that thorny issue now, “I’m the Chief Engineer and you’re the Science Officer on Enterprise. Do you think they’ll condone this relationship?” Trip responded.

“Are you prepared to allow such a policy to affect your decision to enter into a relationship with me?” she asked. That surprised him. He thought she’d use it as an obstacle for why they couldn’t be together.

“No, not for a second! I told you, T’Pol, you mean more to me than anything. I’m not gonna give you up that easily!” Relief flooded through Trip as he realised that she was prepared to fight for them, if it came down to that.

She looked down at his hand, where it rested atop hers, and raised an eyebrow at him.

“There can be no hand-holding in public until I feel more comfortable displaying affection in public,” she said, withdrawing her hand from his grasp, obviously still a little uncomfortable about physical contact, or displaying affection in public. At that moment, Charles Jr. and Katie chose to arrive.

“Are we interrupting anything?” Charles asked lightly, with a teasing smile on his face. T’Pol leapt away from Trip, her face flushed olive with embarrassment that she had been caught holding hands with his son, then seemed to remember that they were not on Vulcan, and relaxed somewhat. Her hand still remained on her side of the table.

“No, Dad, just er. . .” Trip couldn’t think of an explanation. His cheeks were burning scarlet. They seemed to be doing that a lot recently.

“That’s a pretty sweater, T’Pol. You get that today?” Katie said, smiling at the sight of the flustered pair.

“Trip bought it for me.” T’Pol said, taking it off and putting it carefully in the carrier bag. She was perspiring in the warmth of the noon sun.

“Yeah, after much protestin’ on your part!” Trip laughed.

There was silence for a few minutes as the four of them perused the menu. Trip snaked his arm around T’Pol’s chair to see if she objected. She did not. A waiter came over to take their order. The four of them ordered sandwiches. Once their lunch arrived, they made small talk. Katie and Charles asked T’Pol about her career, her life on Vulcan, what she thought of Enterprise, and other general questions. The four of them were skirting around the issue that had brought the pair of them back to Earth, but for now, they all played along.

“So, you decided to spend your leave on Earth rather than Vulcan? Bet your mom was pleased about that!” Katie exclaimed. T’Pol raised an eyebrow in response.

“My mother is dead,” T’Pol said flatly. Katie looked mortified.

“Oh, dear Lord, I am so sorry! I had no idea!”

“Do not trouble yourself, I had not informed you. You had no reason to know. We did not part on good terms, but I saw her as she was dying and we were reconciled.”

The bill arrived. T’Pol insisted, despite multiple protestations, that she would pay. “It is the least I can do, since you have been so kind as to let me stay in your home,” she insisted, handing the waiter her credit card.

 

It was late afternoon when they arrived back at Katie and Charles’ house. T’Pol put on the sweater Trip had bought for her, suddenly feeling cold. They all made their way into the kitchen. Charles reached for the cookie jar and removed a can of coffee from the cupboard.

“Thought I’d make us some coffee. Then we can sit on the porch and watch the sun set,” he said carefully, his meaning clear. Trip nodded, his mouth full of homemade cookie.

“Sounds good,” he managed after a few minutes.

“Trip and I are going for a walk on the beach, Charles. We will be back shortly,” T’Pol said. Charles nodded, and T’Pol and Trip walked out of the house, toward the steps that led to the beach. They were quiet until they reached their rock.

“How much have you told your parents about our situation?” T’Pol asked. They were sitting watching the sun slowly set into the ocean, listening to the crashing of the waves against the beach.

“I told ‘em quite a lot... not about us, but about Elizabeth,” Trip responded.

“What shall we tell them? When we return they will expect us to explain the circumstances surrounding her creation and her death,” T’Pol said, anxiety welling up inside of her. She had no idea what they would tell Trip’s parents, or, more importantly, what their reaction would be when they did give them some form of an explanation. The thought that Trip’s parents, who were kind, caring people, might not like her filled her with fear.

“I don’t know, what do you think?” Trip said, watching her with a worried stare.

“I do not see how they can fully appreciate the situation without knowing the full facts,” T’Pol said, the minute tremor in her voice betraying her fears.

“The full facts?” That thought made Trip’s face turn slightly pink.

“We do not have to reveal intimate details, Trip. A simple narrative will suffice,” T’Pol clarified. She too was unwilling to reveal anything other than what was necessary. Informing his parents of how she had seduced their son in her quarters when she was technically his superior officer was highly inadvisable.

“Uh, ok.” Trip still seemed unconvinced of the merit of informing his parents about the nature of their relationship, but it couldn’t be helped. That matter now resolved, T’Pol focused her energies on another matter, which she had wanted to discuss with him since this morning.

“Trip, I need to ask you something,” she said.

“Ok, what’s wrong?” Trip replied, suddenly concerned.

“Do you remember me explaining to you that we had become bonded?” she said, attempting to formulate the best way to approach the issue.

Trip’s eyes narrowed slightly. She couldn’t blame him for attempting to omit the memory. The period between their first sexual experience and the discovery of Elizabeth had been extremely unpleasant and upsetting. “Yeah, why?” He asked, warily.

She took a deep breath, and focused her thoughts on him. ”Can you hear me?”

Trip’s eyes went slightly wider, and he blinked once, then twice. “Was that you I just heard in my head?” he exclaimed.

“Yes,” she responded simply, curious about how he would react.

“So this is what you wanted to tell me? That we can hear each others’ thoughts?” he said, a slow grin spreading across his features.

“Yes. I thought that the bond had been broken because we were not intimate after that one time, and for a period of time our relations were . . . cold, but then after Elizabeth’s death, and last night, I found this morning that I could sense what you were feeling.” T’Pol winced inwardly at the clinical nature of her explanation, but it was the only way that she could explain the bond to him aside from a mind meld.

“You could?” he said, surprised.

“Yes. When you awoke, you questioned the reality of our situation and what we had said to each other,” she responded, watching his eyes grow wide in recognition.

“Wow. Can you feel me now?” he said, and she smiled slightly at the excitement in his voice.

“I can feel you all the time.” She did not mention that all she could feel from him was sadness and grief. “Can you feel my emotions?” she asked. He concentrated, and then shook his head.

“Maybe it’s one sided?” he offered. She shook her head.

“It should be a reciprocal relationship. After we have spoken to your parents, we will discuss this further.” They stood up, and headed back towards the house.

 

Once they were back, the four of them sat outside on the porch, Trip and T’Pol in one swing, Katie and Charles in another. For a few moments no one said anything, and they simply focused on their coffee. It was T’Pol who broke the silence. “Trip and I wish to tell you about Elizabeth. It is quite a convoluted story, and may take some time.”

“We’re not goin’ anywhere, T’Pol. That’s why you guys are here, to talk to us,” Katie said. Trip continued, grateful that it had been T’Pol who had broached the conversation first.

“We wanna tell you everything; about us, Lorian...“

“Lorian?” Katie interrupted Trip’s narrative at the mention of their grandson’s name.

“Our other child,” T’Pol said. Katie and Charles looked really perplexed.

“Your other child?” Charles questioned, confusion knotting his brow. T’Pol smiled inwardly as she remembered Trip perform the same expression in an almost identical fashion that afternoon. Trip glanced down at her with a bemused expression on his face, but said nothing.

T’Pol decided to take charge of the situation. His parents would not fully understand unless they began at the beginning. “Let me start from the beginning. Then you can hear everything,” she said. Between her and Trip they told his parents everything that had transpired since the Xindi attack: the neuropressure, their burgeoning feelings for each other, while leaving out the first time they had made love, but included the Xindi weapon, Lorian and the alternative Enterprise, the Augments, T’Pol’s marriage to Koss, their constant bickering, and the bond they now shared. By the time they had finished, it was dark outside, and their coffee had long gone cold. Trip looked at his parents. Both of them had shocked expressions on their faces. He looked at T’Pol anxiously. He had never shocked his parents into silence before.

“Charles? Katie? We have finished our narrative,” T’Pol said, prompting them to speak.

“Oh my, I . . . I don’t know what to say!” Katie said, her brow knotted in shock at the amount and nature of the information they had just received. It must be a family trait, T’Pol thought.

“So much for a simple narrative,” Trip muttered.

“And this has all happened in the past two years?” Charles said, still trying to comprehend what they had just been told. Vulcan neuropressure, Xindi weapons, Augments and a grandson from an alternate universe who hadn’t been born yet but was actually a hundred years in the past was a lot to take in during the space of a few hours. T’Pol nodded in understanding.

“We know that this is hard to accept,” she told them.

“Look Mom, Dad, we know it sounds a little nuts, and it might take you a while to get your head around what we’re saying, but we just thought that if you were gonna hear about Lizzie, you deserved the full story,” Trip said, attempting to help his parents understand further the circumstances that had caused Elizabeth’s creation and death.

Katie looked at the pair of them, as if suddenly focusing on them for the first time that evening. They were holding hands. “So you two are . . . together.”

“If you mean involved in a romantic relationship, then yes, you are correct,” T’Pol confirmed, before adding, “It took us some time to realise that we shared romantic inclinations towards each other.” There was silence again, until T’Pol could feel Trip’s frustration, and he could bear it no longer.

“So what do you think?” he asked.

“Well, we’re glad you told us,” Katie said.

“Maybe the three of you should discuss this in private.” T’Pol stood up. Trip yanked her back down.

“T’Pol, come on. You’re family,” he protested.

This time, Katie and Charles stood up. “I think we’ll go talk about this privately tonight. We’ll see you in the morning.” Katie pressed her lips to Trip’s head, as she had done every night he’d been home since he had been born. “I’ll see you in the morning.” She leaned toward T’Pol as if she intended to do the same, but to T’Pol’s relief seemed to think better of it, and just smiled at her instead.

“Good night, kids,” said Charles, rolling his eyes. He tugged on Katie’s hand and she followed him into the house. Trip and T’Pol were left alone outside.

“Well?” Trip asked.

“They seem to be taking it . . . well. You must realise that to them the situation does sound somewhat illogical and implausible,” T’Pol reminded him.

He nodded, fully aware of how utterly ludicrous it must sound. “Yeah, I know.”

“I’m sure they will be understanding,” T’Pol said. Trip scooted over towards her, craving bodily contact. He slipped an arm around the back of the swing and began gently stroking her hair.

“Can you hear me?” she heard suddenly inside her head.

“Yes, perfectly. You said that you could not sense my thoughts,” she replied, watching his face. He was grinning. In fact, he had not stopped grinning since that morning, and she realised now that she was the cause. That thought made the corners of her mouth tug upwards.

“Yeah, well, while we were talking I realised I could. Guess I must have been tryin’ a bit too hard at the beach,” he responded, continuing to stroke her hair.

“What am I thinking now?”

“You’re real sad about Elizabeth. And you’re worried that my folks don’t like ya,” he responded, describing her feelings as if they were his own.

“You are correct,” she said, marvelling at his use of their bond, which was remarkable considering that he was not Vulcan.

“This feels weird, talkin’ without usin’ my mouth. Do I sound ok? Normal, I mean?”

“You sound perfectly normal, Trip,” she responded. He smiled

“You don’t have to worry about my folks, T’Pol. They love ya, I can tell!” She could feel him attempting to allay her fears, but they still remained.

“I am worried that they dislike me because I am Vulcan.”

“What!” He moved his hand from her hair to around her shoulders, offering her physical reassurances that his parents did indeed approve of her.

“Our species are very different, Trip. I may never be able to give you the emotional satisfaction you crave.” She grasped his hand with hers, and focused on her lap, suddenly aware that for the first time he could at least sense, if not fully feel, her emotions and her concern that his family would not accept her.

“Well isn’t that what this mind-talkin’ stuff is for? So you can say stuff only to me that you can’t put into spoken words?” he countered, squeezing her hand hard.

“Very perceptive. Have you been researching Vulcan mating bonds?” she asked him, already sensing the answer. He had done at least some preliminary research after she had first told him of their bond.

“Maybe.” T’Pol caught a glint in his eye. She sighed.

“I wish I could have comforted you when Elizabeth died. I am unused to having to comfort humans.” She admitted another of her regrets to him. He moved his hand from around her shoulders and pulled her legs over his. She did not object to the extended physical contact. Once her legs were resting atop his, he laid his hand on her knee. She could sense his amusement at her transient discomfort and his pleasure at her acquiescence to the physical gesture of affection.

“You did ok, considerin’ you’re Vulcan. You express grief differently than we do,” he said, gently stroking her knee through the fabric of her trousers.

“I wish I could have given you what you wanted. You left me alone, as I requested,” T’Pol insisted, almost to herself.

“You’re here now.” Again, she heard Trip attempt to silence her fears, but they would not be quiet.

“Yes, I am.” For a few seconds, she let her emotional shields down, and Trip suddenly felt a wave of anguish hit him. It was T’Pol. He pulled her closer, so she was sitting on his lap. Her head found his shoulder and stayed there.

“Did that come from you?”

“Yes. I, too am grieving for our daughter, Trip.” T’Pol closed her eyes and let Trip’s comforting smell and form wash over her, enjoying the feel of the soft cotton of his shirt and the slight scratch of his stubble against her face.

“Yeah, I can tell.” He gently stroked her hair, and they sat together for what seemed like hours.

“I wish to go back to our rock. I find it extremely relaxing. Will you accompany me?” she asked. He nodded.

“Sure.” They rose from the swing and made their way down to the beach. It was dark, but they did not stumble. After a few minutes they reached their rock and simply sat, facing each other, in silence. They did not require spoken words anymore.

“Are we gonna talk like this all the time?” Trip asked.

“I am sure there will be occasions when we need to converse verbally, Trip. Are you not enjoying the experience?” she replied, listening to the sound of the waves as they washed onto the beach.

“Well, yeah, but I’m worried in case my voice stops workin’!”

“I am sure that will never happen.” That elicited a laugh from Trip. She was silent for a few minutes, lost in thought. Trip noticed immediately.

“Oh no, you can’t hide your thoughts from me anymore, T’Pol, what’s up?” he said, watching her as she stared out towards the sea. Something other than Elizabeth was troubling her, but he couldn’t tell what.

“I wish to initiate a mind-meld with you,” she said, watching him carefully for a reaction.

“What? Are you sure that’s such a good idea?” Trip knew about her experience with Tolaris, and didn’t want her to be subjected to that again. T’Pol sensed his reluctance because of her safety, and elaborated.

“There are many different types of mind meld, Trip. It would not be invasive or unpleasant. It is profoundly intimate, however. We would reveal our entire lives to each other. I have much I wish to tell you, but it would be easier if I simply showed you. Would that be all right?” She sounded almost shy.

After a few moments’ consideration, he nodded. She edged closer, placing her hand along the contact points on his face. Both closed their eyes, as T’Pol began to recite the mantra. “My mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts, my mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts . . .“ She continued the mantra until she could feel their minds merging. When Trip opened his eyes, he was dressed in his Starfleet uniform, and standing in the white space that he had been in only once before, when he had accidentally stumbled into her mediation session.

“T’Pol?” he called out. She was behind him, also wearing her uniform.

“I am here,” she said.

“So what was it you wanted to tell me?” He turned around, and she drew closer.

“This.” She brushed her lips against his.

Inside of a few moments, she showed Trip her entire life. He saw her awkward childhood and adolescence, as she struggled to contain her emotions, failing several times, much to the frustration and concern of her parents. He saw her early years at the Vulcan Science Academy, her first posting, right through her career until her posting to Enterprise. He saw their developing relationship through her eyes; their verbal sparring, which irritated her initially, but soon, became enjoyable. He saw his gentle words of advice after he had accidentally stumbled upon her letter from Koss, how she was grateful, even then, that he did not tell her to go through with the marriage. He saw her pain for him when she learned of the death of his sister, and her initial reluctance to participate in neuropressure sessions with him because of her fear that she would not be able to mask her feelings towards him.

He watched their relationship grow because of those sessions, from a frosty regard to a warm, trusting, understanding between two people from completely different backgrounds and with a radically different attitude towards life. He felt her jealousy and hurt when he performed neuropressure on Amanda Cole. Only now did he realise what an intimate act it was, and he felt her struggle with the desire to stake her claim over him despite the strict code of conduct instilled in all Vulcans. Her desire had won, and he felt her shame afterwards; the shame that had caused her to push him away, the shame caused by the fear that her Trellium-D addiction had caused her to want Trip, and that her feelings for him were artificially induced.

Then came her marriage to Koss. She had brought him back to Vulcan hoping that he would dissuade her from marrying him, as he had done in the past. She’d interpreted his silence when she did marry Koss as indifference on his part.

Lorian and Elizabeth. He felt her joy at knowing that there might be a chance for them to salvage their relationship, which at that moment had seemed all but lost to her. He felt her heart-wrenching grief when Elizabeth had died, and her utter inability to deal with the barrage of emotions it unleashed, never mind having to deal with his as well. Suddenly, without warning, they were back in the white space. T’Pol stepped away from Trip, suddenly embarrassed at what she had shown him. “Now you know,” she said softly, and he did. He knew everything about her: her likes, her dislikes, what made her happy and sad, what made her laugh, every single thing about her, he knew.

“My turn,” he said, pressing his lips to hers, the same way she had done. Again, inside of a few seconds, she came to know everything about him: growing up in Florida with his large and extended family, his first crush, his first kiss, the first time he had sex, moving away from his family for the first time, his time at the Academy, his first meeting with Archer, his first posting in space. Then she came to Enterprise, and she saw their relationship through Trip’s eyes. His initial dislike of her, which was soon transformed into a serious crush, a crush which he tried to disguise by attempting to get a rise out of her at every opportunity. She saw him receive the news of Lizzie’s death, and the grief that nearly tore him apart. She saw his horror when the doctor suggested neuropressure with T’Pol. He had been terrified that she would discover that he had feelings for her. She saw his flirtation with Amanda Cole, which in his eyes had been a passing fancy, something to distract him from his growing feelings for her. She felt his wonder when they had first made love, of kissing her, touching her, being inside of her, how he had fallen asleep that night and walked around the next morning with a massive grin on his face, slipping away from her quarters in the early hours, so no crewmembers would see him. Then she felt the sharp sting of rejection as she coolly informed him that he had been an ‘exploration’. T’Pol felt that pain as acutely as if it were her own.

She watched him battle his feelings for her, convinced they were not reciprocated. She felt his delight when he met Lorian. It gave him some hope that maybe, just maybe, they might end up together. She felt the pain caused by his decision to transfer to the Columbia, and his joy when she told him that she wanted him to return to Enterprise. Finally, she felt his grief when Elizabeth had died, horrific, inconsolable grief for a daughter he had known only for a few hours, yet loved as if he had delivered her himself. She opened her eyes and looked at Trip. She now knew everything about him: his likes, his dislikes, what made him laugh, what made him happy, what made him sad. She knew everything. “I know everything,” she said softly. He nodded, smiling at her.

“Me too,” he replied.

When Trip opened his eyes, they were back in reality, sitting atop their rock, facing each other, their knees touching. T’Pol’s eyes were still closed, her hand fixed firmly in place on the side of his face. He had noticed that during the meld his hand had moved to her face, mimicking her. She opened her eyes slowly, as if waking from a long sleep. Her eyes, once cold and flat due to her strict emotional control, were now deep pools of conflicting emotions and desire. She removed her hand from his face, and he did the same. His hands and his face felt hot from where they had been connected.

“I know now why you wanted to show me instead of tellin’ me all that stuff,” he said.

“So you understand? I was concerned that my transmission would be somewhat convoluted, I have never attempted a meld of that nature.”

“I understood perfectly. How was mine?”

“It was completely coherent.” They stood up in unison, and Trip put his hand in hers without having to reach for it. It was simply there. They regarded each other with something bordering on awe. Trip could not believe that he had known her only four years. He felt like he had known her a lifetime.

“That was the intention of the meld.” He heard her voice inside of his head. He grinned.

They didn’t sleep much that night. They didn’t make love, but instead simply lay together naked, their bodies pressed as tightly together as possible, the sheets a tangled mess on the floor. They didn’t talk. There was no need for words.

 

Trip finally dropped off around 5 in the morning, long after T’Pol, who had been mentally exhausted from initiating the meld, had fallen asleep. He had simply watched her, not trying to sense her dreams in case she sensed him and awoke. When he woke at around ten that morning the bed was empty. He reached out with his mind to try to find her, but could not sense her. He’d need to work on that. He slipped into his pale blue cotton bathrobe that he grabbed from the still unpacked suitcase and padded downstairs, hearing female voices. T’Pol was speaking with his mom. Both of them stopped and looked up when Trip came into the kitchen, yawning. “Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes!” Katie said, laughing.

“I do not believe I have seen you wear that . . . robe before,” T’Pol said.

“Mom bought it for me one Christmas. I never get the chance to wear it on Enterprise!” Trip said. T’Pol stood up.

“I think that I will go for a walk,” she said. Trip kissed her forehead as she went past him.

“Talk to your mother. She understands,” he heard her say. He took a deep breath, and sat down on the sofa next to his mom.

“Did you and Dad talk?” he asked. She nodded.

“I’m sorry if we upset you guys yesterday by walking out, but we were so shocked by what you had told us. Anyway, T’Pol and I had a really good chat while you were in bed. She’s such a lovely girl, Trip. I’m just so sorry for you both that things got so messy.”

“Yeah, well, we both seem to have a habit of getting’ ourselves into trouble!” Trip said in agreement.

“Talk to her, Trip. She needs you as much as you need her to get through this. Just know that your dad and I are glad you’re back. We’re just so sorry...“ His mom stifled a sob, and Trip hugged her.

“It’s ok, Mom... It’s ok,” he said soothingly.

Trip found T’Pol sitting outside, drinking some water on the swing in the porch, and looking out to the sea with a wistful look in her eye. Trip sat down beside her, still in his robe.

“Did you speak with your mother?” she asked. He nodded.

“Yeah, we spoke a bit. They’re both a little shocked, that’s all. I mean, it’s a lot to take in.” His arm went around the back of the swing, and he began to push it with his foot.

“Yes, it is.”

“T’Pol, please talk to me, I can speak to you inside your head, but you’re holding something back.” Trip looked at his bondmate. She was dressed simply in jeans and her pink sweater, and while she looked beautiful, there was a deep sadness about her, which he simply couldn’t reach.

“I am thinking about Elizabeth. We came here to talk about us and grieve for our daughter. We have talked about us, now we must grieve.” Even conversing mentally, her voice still held a tremor.

“I know.” He took her hand in his, then asked, “How do Vulcans usually grieve?”

“Alone. In silence,” she responded. Trip could feel something welling within her.

“You want me to leave you?” It was the very last thing that he wanted to do but if that was what she wanted Trip was willing to oblige. She shook her head.

“No, I did not mean to imply that I wished to be alone.”

“You want me to sit here?” Trip could feel her grief rising up inside her like a giant wave that threatened to consume her. He slipped his hand into hers and she squeezed tightly.

“Yes. Just for a little while.” And so they sat for a while not speaking, listening to the sounds of the ocean.

“Do you believe that Elizabeth would have liked it here?” T’Pol asked. Trip nodded, sensing that the wave was about to crash over both of them.

“Yes, I think she would have,” he replied softly, watching T’Pol’s face intently. Her lower lip trembled, and she blinked rapidly.

“So do I,” she said.

Trip sensed her tears before he saw them. There was only one at first, then another, and another, until they fell uncontrollably, and the great wave of emotion that she had been steadily building up came crashing down around her, shattering her walls of emotional control and casting aside Trip’s as though they were both made of paper. A part of Trip was truly humbled by the experience of feeling such raw emotion, but he finally understood why she had attempted to control it until there was no way to stop it. If left unchecked, it would destroy them both. She made no noise as she wept, and made no move to brush the tears away as they fell without respite for some time. Trip pulled her into his arms, tears streaming down his own face, and they sat on the porch swing, her face buried in the soft cotton of his robe, mourning the loss of their daughter together.

 

After they had both cried until there were no tears left, Trip changed into a pair of shorts and a plain white t-shirt, and they wandered down to the beach, where they walked hand in hand, letting the waves wash over their bare feet. They didn’t speak much, they simply walked.

“What happens when we return to Enterprise?” T’Pol asked suddenly. The pair of them sat down on the sand, and watched a family building sand castles not far from where they were.

“I’m not sure. What do you mean?” Trip said, feeling it odd that he could hear them both out loud again.

“We have already discussed remaining romantically attached, but do we inform the crew, and the captain, and Starfleet, or the High Command?” she asked. He felt her anxiety rising to the surface again.

“I don’t know. Guess we’ll have to at some point.” he replied, unsure about what to say.

“They would transfer us to different vessels,” T’Pol said. Trip could feel her anxiety bubbling to the surface. He put his arms around her waist and pulled her close.

“Let’s not talk about this now,” he said, kissing the top of her forehead. “You need to meditate,” he whispered. She shook her head.

“I am all right,’ she insisted.

“No, you’re not. You’ve just cried and you’re letting me touch you in public,’ he reminded her, not letting go of her.

“I have just lost my daughter.” She made no move to pull away.

“I know.”

“I am worried that if I regain my emotional control I will lose you,” she said to him through their bond.

“Darlin’, you’re not gonna lose me, I’ll be right here! You need to meditate, even if it’s just for a little while. I’ll go back to the house, all right? Come back when you’re ready. I love you.” Kissing her gently, he released her and walked back towards his parents’ house.

 

T’Pol returned later, after several hours of meditation on their rock. She still felt emotionally raw after the previous few days, but much more at peace with herself. After she had stopped using Trellium-D, Phlox had warned her that she might never regain full control of her emotions. He had been right. As hard as she tried, T’Pol knew that she would never have the same level of control she’d once possessed. Her relationship with Trip and the death of Elizabeth had served to further weaken the control she did have. There was a time when such a scenario would have caused her severe distress. Now she felt like she might find peace with her emotions after all. It was ironic that in order for her to master them, she had embarked on a relationship with the most emotionally volatile creature she had ever met. She found Trip in the garage with his father with the hood of the Tucker’s car up. They were looking at the engine. Trip stopped what he was doing when he saw her approach, and wiped his hands on a rag so he could embrace her.

“You ok now?” he asked. She nodded, raw emotion still churning through her.

“Did you speak with your father?” she asked him through their bond. He nodded.

“We talked for a few hours while you were at the beach. It’s all ok. They were a bit shocked that they had all these grandkids that none of us knew about.” They made their way back into the house, and Trip began to wash the oil off his hands with soap and water. Once he was finished he traced his finger along T’Pol’s lower lip and kissed her.

“It is a lot of information to absorb. I will join your mother while you finish with your father. Will we be going for a walk later on the beach?” Despite several hours of meditation, T’Pol still felt an overwhelming need to touch her mate, and slipped her arms around him.

“Would you like to?” he asked, thoroughly enjoying the fact that she was being so tactile. After a few minutes, however, he felt her emotional levels return to normal, and she released him.

“Yes. I find it relaxing,” she responded.

“Then that’s what we’ll do. I love you.”

“And I you.”

 

And that was what they did. For the next ten days, they went on lots of walks, meditated, engaged in neuropressure, and had lots of steamy, passionate sex, which was intensified by their newly-forged mental bond, a bond which was now so strong that they could feel, sense, and hear every emotion, sound, and smell that the other experienced. Each night they would think of Elizabeth. Trip cried, and T’Pol held him, and slowly, they felt like they were healing.

At the same time, Trip had never known anything like it. He was completely and utterly in love with her, and he wasn’t scared at all. He wanted them to remain at his parents’ house forever, where they could take long walks on the beach, talk without speaking without thought of the repercussions, make love to each other on the beach behind their rock, as they did every evening, before curling up in bed, only to have her still there every morning. The thought of returning to Enterprise, with no beach, hard, single beds, and awful memories of Elizabeth did not exactly help matters.

They were returning to Enterprise the following afternoon. His mom had arranged a party for the pair of them, hoping it would cheer them up. She had invited their family and some of the neighbours. The guests were not due to arrive for another hour, and Trip had retreated upstairs for some much-needed time alone. T’Pol was meditating, and if he was honest, he was finding it pretty hard to get used to hearing her inside his head all the time, and was glad of some quiet time. As he packed, he glanced at his Enterprise uniform, folded neatly in his bag, and his fingers lovingly tracing the three pips on his collar. He had worked damned hard to get to where he was professionally, and he didn’t want to give it all up, but what of his personal life? He knew that he was an attractive guy. He’d never had any trouble attracting the ladies. It was getting them to stick around that proved to be the hard part. It was no secret that while his professional career had skyrocketed since he had joined Starfleet, his personal life had been firmly grounded, perpetually stuck in the repair dock.

Until T’Pol. She combined intelligence and beauty in equal measure, and she was nuts about him. It was only recently, after the mind meld, that he had truly come to appreciate the depth of her feelings for him, and vice versa. He knew that they wouldn’t be able to keep their feelings secret aboard Enterprise. All it would take would be one comment, one look that lingered a little too long, and that would be it. Game over. One of them, if not both, would be reassigned to ships a galaxy away from each other, and that would spell the end to their relationship. Despite T’Pol’s protestations that that was what their bond was for, Trip knew somehow that if they were parted for long periods, it would begin to fade. There was no way to get around it. He wasn’t a telepath like she was, and long-distance relationships were neither viable nor desirable, something with which Trip had first hand experience. He had to make a choice, and right now, he didn’t know which one it would be.

 

Sitting in the lotus position, listening to the sounds of the waves, and experiencing the feel of surf against her skin, T’Pol was having a similar conversation with herself as she meditated. She knew that she could formalize her service with Starfleet if she wanted to, and possibly be given command of a vessel. She did not know what to do, but she was sure that if she entered Starfleet, it was unlikely that she and Trip would be allowed to remain on the same vessel if their relationship was discovered, and it would be too difficult to keep it a secret. The crew already had their suspicions surrounding the pair of them, and had since their neuropressure sessions began. The appearance of Lorian and Elizabeth had only added to the rumours. Reassignment was not desirable. Enterprise rarely saw other Starfleet vessels, and if the High Command found out, even though she was no longer with them, pressure would be placed on her and her superiors to have her transferred back to Vulcan, or a remote science outpost, if she were not ostracised from them completely. She might never see Trip again, and that was unacceptable.

T’Pol had not really considered the ramifications this might have on their careers when she had informed Trip of her feelings for him. Both of them had acted on emotion alone, and now they were faced with a difficult choice. One or both of them would have to change their career if the relationship was to continue. There was also the question of where they would reside. She knew that Trip would not want to reside on Vulcan, even if he were allowed, but would she be happy on Earth, or perhaps the Lunar Colony? How could she choose between Trip and her career? Which one did she desire more? Did he want her to make that kind of a choice? Did she want to have to make that choice? These and many more questions swirled around her head as she stood up. She had to return to the house and prepare herself for meeting the rest of Trip’s family.

 

Trip had told T’Pol that he had a large family, but she’d never realized how large until they began to arrive in the late afternoon and didn’t stop arriving until 2015 hours that night. While Trip may have only had one sister, he had many aunts and uncles, and cousins, all of whom had children. There were also other people, members of Trip’s extended family; people who were close friends, who had watched Trip grow up. All of them had children of varying ages. All of these children, without exception, were now, in T’Pol’s opinion, running around completely out of control. One of them wielded a long wooden stick while another child threw a ball at him. Trip, of course, was right in the middle of it all, his hand encased in a large leather glove, when he wasn’t helping to cook food on a large outdoor oven or consuming bottles of alcohol with his cousins. T’Pol stood to one side, slightly away from the others, observing the scene with a glass of water in her hand. All of them had eyed her with interest when Katie had told them that she was Trip’s girlfriend. None of them knew about Elizabeth, or at least, she didn’t think they did.

Her solitude was interrupted by a woman, perhaps Trip’s age, with tumbling blonde hair and brilliant blue eyes. The woman approached her with a young child on her hip who appeared to be no more than six months old. She too had blonde hair and blue eyes. T’Pol glanced around. They all had blonde hair of varying shades, and blue eyes. The Tucker genes were resilient, obviously.

“Hi, you must be T’Pol, right? I’m Julia, Trip’s cousin.” She held out her hand, which T’Pol shook, eyeing Julia with some interest. She had not spoken with any of Trip’s extended family for any more than a few seconds, but Julia seemed intent on introducing herself. “Thought I’d come keep ya company. I noticed you by yourself. They can be quite a lot to handle all at once!” she said, gesturing to the crowd of people.

“Yes, they can.” She watched Julia discreetly look her up and down, and found herself pleased that Trip’s cousin smiled.

“I see Trip’s helpin’ with the barbeque, like always! The last time we had one of these family get togethers, Trip was adamant that he could make the barbeque ‘more efficient’. We all told him it wasn’t a starship engine, but he wouldn’t have it. He nearly set the damned house on fire!” She laughed at the memory, which made her resemble Trip quite remarkably.

“I can imagine that.” T’Pol thought back to various times aboard Enterprise when he had tried something similar, and with similar effect.

“Trip’s had some pretty rotten luck with girls in the past. He always seems to miss out on the really nice ones and go straight for the worthless ones.” She paused, shooting T’Pol an apologetic look and a wry smile. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like it sounded! Katie said you’re really nice, I had to come see for myself!”

“Is this your daughter?” T’Pol said, gesturing to the child on her hip, who was eyeing her with curiosity. Julia nodded. “Yeah, this is my little angel. My other angel’s playin’ baseball over there.” She gestured to a young boy, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, who was swinging a wooden stick that was almost at tall as he was.

“Your children are beautiful,” T’Pol murmured. If Elizabeth had lived, would she have looked like these children? Would she someday have played ‘baseball’, as they are now? T’Pol suddenly felt tears well. She blinked, struggling to maintain her composure, Julia noticed, and put her hand on T’Pol’s arm.

“T’Pol, Katie told me about what happened, I’m so sorry, if there’s anything I can do...“ Her son tugging on her arm cut her short.

“Mommy, can you come pitch for us? Uncle Trip was, but he’s improving the efficiency of the barbeque again!” he begged.

Julia looked at T’Pol apologetically. “I’m so sorry. I’ll just be a minute.”

“Take your time. . . do you want me to watch your daughter?” T’Pol asked. Julia looked at her doubtfully.

“Are you sure? I mean, if it’s gonna upset you...“

“No, play with your son, I will be fine.” T’Pol reached out awkwardly for the child, and after a few seconds of internal debate, Julia gave the infant to T’Pol, who grasped her firmly with both hands. “Her name’s Karen, I’ll be back in five minutes,” she said as her son tugged her away by one hand.

Now that T’Pol held Karen in her arms, she was unsure about whether this had been a good idea. The baby looked at T‘Pol in wonder, and reached out a tiny hand to touch her dark hair. She sat down on a lounger with the infant in her arms. “Hello, Karen, I am T’Pol, I am your Uncle Trip’s mate. You resemble him quite remarkably,” she said, marvelling at how it felt to hold another infant in her arms. She drew a shaky breath. The little girl bore a striking resemblance to Elizabeth, and T’Pol was suddenly glad that she was sitting down.

She was unaware that Trip was watching her. He had stepped away from the baseball game for a few minutes to get the barbeque going, after which he was planning on keeping T’Pol company. He had introduced her to everyone, and she had made small talk for a few minutes, before taking up position a discreet distance from his family, which he knew could be a lot to take in one go. Then he saw her, sitting down on a lounge chair, holding Karen almost exactly as she had held Elizabeth when they had first found her, with the same quizzical expression on her face. He felt his eyes fill with tears. That should be our daughter she’s holdin’, he thought. T’Pol sensed his anguish immediately, and her eyes met his across the crowded garden.

“Please, do not think like that, Trip. There will be other children that we can bring to these gatherings. You may even teach them to play ‘baseball’,” she said through their bond, silently attempting to take some of his grief away.

“I’m sorry, T’Pol, but seein’ you with that baby girl just kills me.” He turned his head away, gritting his teeth and heaving a sigh, and busied himself with getting a good flame on the barbeque.

 

The party began winding down about eleven, by which point many of the children were asleep. T’Pol and Trip were tidying up. Trip had forgotten how good it was to see all of his family again, and how much he had missed them. Again, thoughts of returning to Enterprise bubbled to the surface. There had been a time when he couldn’t get back to Enterprise fast enough after spending his leave with his parents and family. Not that he disliked spending time with them, it was just that they could be a little hard to handle all at once. Now, though, he was beginning to wonder if he really wanted to leave all that badly.

He watched T’Pol carefully putting paper plates into a garbage bag. He could sense that she, while being overwhelmed initially, had also enjoyed the party. He sat down, and glanced around the garden. The last time they had had a party like this had been the last time he had been back on Earth. Before the Xindi attack. Before Lizzie had died. A drop of rain hit the chair he was sitting on. Then another, and another. Inside of a few minutes there was torrential rain. Trip and T’Pol ran for cover under the porch, both of them soaked, despite the fact that they had only been out in the rain for a few minutes.

“Did you enjoy yourself today?” he asked her. She raised her eyebrow at him, and he chuckled. His old friend had returned.

“You know I did. You can sense my thoughts,” she reminded him.

“Just bein’ polite!” He removed his now dripping shirt and wrung it out before shaking it. Looking up, he caught T’Pol staring at his chest, and smiled.

“You enjoyed yourself,” she said. He could feel her desire for him through their bond. She wasn’t even attempting to disguise it.

“I think you’re enjoyin’ yourself right now!” he responded. She simply raised an eyebrow in response.

“Yeah, I did, it was great seein’ ‘em all again. I don’t know when I’ll get the chance again,” Trip continued, drying himself with a dishtowel from the kitchen.

“It could be a considerable period of time before we are next granted leave and are able to return to Earth,” T’Pol said, glancing down at her own sodden attire. Soon they would have to relocate upstairs, dry themselves, and go to bed, but for now, she was more than content to watch the rain. It was oddly comforting.

“T’Pol, did you mean what you said before, about there being other children, that we could bring to these things?” T’Pol could hear in his voice that he had given serious consideration to the possibility that they would have children together.

“If we are to remain romantically attached, and bonded, it is logical that we will, at some point, have a family. The doctor assures me that it might be some time before Vulcans and humans can have children, but there is no reason to doubt that we will eventually procreate.” She didn’t know why she was surprised at his question. Trip had never made any secret of his desire for children, and he had been overjoyed when the two children he did have were with her.

“Do you want to have my kids, T’Pol?” he asked her, watching her face.

She paused for a few moments before answering, formulating her answer. “When Lorian revealed his identity to us, I was shocked, but after we discovered Elizabeth, I realised that I would be honoured to have your children.”

“Really?” He smiled at her wistfully. “It really tore me up, seein’ you with little Karen. I kept thinkin’, ‘that should be Elizabeth you’re holdin’.”

“It was not meant to be, Trip. Elizabeth was created to prove that Vulcans and humans are fundamentally incompatible with each other. We know that is not the case,” T’Pol said, trying to alleviate some of his pain but reassure him that it was still possible for them to have children together.

There was silence for a few moments, before Trip spoke, out loud this time. “T’Pol, I’ve been thinkin about what we’re gonna do when this leave is over.”

“As have I. What is your conclusion?” A part of T’Pol did not want to hear his conclusion, but she turned around to face Trip, and listened anyway.

“Well, way I see it, we’ve got three choices.” Trip began, shakily. A large part of him didn’t want to have this conversation with her. If she turned him down, he knew that he would go to pieces and that would be the end.

“And those choices are?”

“Number one; we go back to Enterprise, keep quiet, pray that no-one realises what we’re up to.” Trip’s heart started to pound as he began to tell her.

“I find such a choice to be highly illogical, unless it were for a limited period of time. We could not maintain a façade of indifference indefinitely. People would find out eventually.” T’Pol said brusquely. Trip nodded, sighing inwardly with relief that she hadn’t chosen that option. He couldn’t have kept their relationship a secret, not indefinitely.

“Agreed. Number 2... We tell the captain, and accept the consequences.” He watched her face for a response. She raised an eyebrow.

“That option is a shorter version of option number one, and is also undesirable and illogical. Even if the captain were to be accepting of our relationship, it is highly probable that Starfleet would want one of us to be transferred.” Again, she dismissed that option. A part of Trip was pleased, but another was terrified about what she might say to the next suggestion.

“Your career would be over,” he said.

“As yours might be. I would possibly be ostracised from Vulcan. What is choice number three?” she replied.

Trip took a deep breath. “I want you to hear me out before you say anything.”

“Very well. Continue.”

“We leave Enterprise, both of us. We get jobs either outside Starfleet or on a Starfleet base, maybe here, or even Washington, even on the Lunar Colony, and we live together, no hiding our relationship.” He paused, watching her face for signs of a reaction. There was none, so he continued. “Then we don’t have to worry about the Vulcans or Starfleet breathin’ down our necks, especially not if we leave Starfleet, and there’s any number of private engineerin’ firms that would snap the pair of us up.”

T’Pol was silent for a few moments, considering Trip’s third option. “Your third proposal has a certain merit and logic. It is the only way that we could be open about our relationship and not jeopardise it by risking a transfer.”

“But, at least one of us would have to give up workin’ for Starfleet, and that would spell the end to any dreams either of us had about havin’ our own ship,” Trip said, pleased that she hadn’t completely dismissed it but terrified about what that might mean for their careers.

T’Pol turned around to watch the rain fall. “But we would have each other,” she said. He nodded.

“What do you say?” he asked.

“I do not know,” she admitted, genuinely torn. He nodded in agreement.

“Me neither. I love you, T’Pol, God, I do, more than anything, but I’ve wanted my own ship for as long as I’ve been in Starfleet, longer than I’ve been in Starfleet. It’s not an easy thing to sacrifice. And to go back to bein’ earthbound after this long in space, well, it’d be hard.” He could feel a deep sadness wash over him. He stood to lose one of the two things that mattered to him the most in the whole world, but only he could make that choice.

“I agree. I too have always wanted a vessel of my own.” T’Pol echoed his sentiments.

“But, if we stay in space, we may as well consign our relationship to the trash.”

T’Pol raised an eyebrow at the analogy. “An interesting analogy, but yes.”

“Could you live on Earth, T’Pol... with me?” he asked her, searching her eyes for an answer.

“Could you live on Vulcan, with me?” she countered, doing the same.

Neither of them answered that question. Instead, they simply watched the rain fall.

 

Trip awoke early the next morning to find that the bed next to him was vacant. He looked out of the window. It was still raining heavily. He went to put on his robe, but it was gone. Instead, he slipped into an old white shirt with very fine blue lines on it and faded, ripped jeans. He padded downstairs barefoot. The house was deathly quiet. His parents were still asleep. He found T’Pol, dressed in his robe and nothing else, sitting on the porch, watching the rain. There was a glass of water next to her. She had one leg drawn up to her body, resting her chin on it, the other foot gently pushing the swing. He slid an arm around her.

“Come to bed,” he whispered. She shook her head.

“I am not tired.” She shook her head again, and turned to face him. Her hair was messed up from sleep. Worry was etched onto her beautiful features.

“I cannot think of anything but our conversation last night,” she said. He sat down next to her, and took a sip of her water.

“Me neither.” He didn’t look at her. Instead he fixed his gaze on the rain outside, not wanting to look at her face for fear of what he might find. He knew that they were bonded, but that didn’t stop him from worrying that she might chose her career over him.

“I care for you, Trip. I know that you know, but I also know that you like hearing me express it verbally,” T’Pol said, her hand on his knee.

He smiled softly, and turned his head slightly to face her. Worry was tearing into her face. The decision was weighing heavily on her mind too. “Yeah, I do. Sounds kinda nice.”

“I have made my decision,” she said quickly. He tried to sense what she had decided, but she had shielded her thoughts from him.

“And?” He wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear this.

“Of the three choices you laid before us, I found the first two to be completely unacceptable. I do not wish for our relationship to end, nor do I wish for it to be conducted covertly.”

“So it’s choice number three?” He said.

She nodded. “If that is acceptable to you. It means us abandoning any career aspirations for a ship of our own, but I believe that is a price worth paying. I do not wish to lose you.” She gently placed her hand over his, interlocking her fingers with his.

He nodded, relieved that she hadn’t wanted to end it. “Yeah, I mean, it’s not the ideal choice, but after this past two weeks, I’ve realised how much I’ve missed being home, not just back on Earth, but with my family, back in my folks’ house. I don’t even own my own house, and I’m 33. I always wanted to be married and have a couple of kids by the time I was thirty, yet all I’ve got is a starship that keeps getting’ the crap kicked outta her so I have to fix her up again!”

“You also have a successful career and are the most respected engineer in Starfleet. That is a heavy consolation, and your dream since you were a small child,” T’Pol reminded him. He nodded in agreement.

“I just thought recently that havin’ somethin’ a little more permanent would be nice. I’ve also realised that I couldn’t bear to ever lose you. You’re worth far more than a ship of my own,” he said, thinking of a house with a garden that he and T’Pol could work together in the summer while their children played baseball.

“So we are in agreement about our options?” she said, resting her head on his shoulder, feeling his relief mixing with her own that neither of them wished to be parted.

He nodded. “Guess that means we’re not goin back to Enterprise, huh?” His relief was palpable.

“We can return and see what Captain Archer has to say. If the news is not promising, we will leave,” she said, unwilling to be parted from Trip and prepared to sacrifice a captaincy for him. That thought warmed him immensely, and he tightened his grip on her.

“We’ll have to start looking around for jobs. Where do you wanna live? Any ideas?” He said, his hands finding their way inside her robe. To his delight, she really was naked beneath it. He pulled her closer to him and kissed her, feeling an overwhelming love for her. She returned his affection readily, using their bond to send images of what she wanted to do to him, and vice versa. After a few moments, they both came up for air. Their eyes locked. He could sense her secret amusement.

“Somewhere with a beach,” she whispered.

FINIS

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