|
"Do You Ever Miss Me?" Rating: PG Author's Note: Italics denote flashback scenes. treat-or-treat [trik-er-treet]
October 31, 2167 Trick-or-Treat. She’d
never really gotten it. Not really. She’d come close…in all the years
he’d known her, though. He smiled wistfully and tuned out the ceremony;
his mind drifting in remembrance… Do you ever miss me?
October 31, 2151 “Trick-or-Treat,
Sub-Commander.” T’Pol
stood in her doorway and gazed blankly back at Commander Tucker, blinking
slowly and saying nothing. Trip
sighed. “Did you not research Halloween at all? That’s so
not like you.” Trip was concerned. He and T’Pol had reached a sort
of…understanding…in recent weeks. He’d confessed to reading her private
mail, and she’d confided in him. He’d apologized, and she’d
forgiven. And she’d… …stayed. Somehow,
that made his efforts to seek her out not seem so…ridiculous. Getting her
to cooperate, however… Well,
he was still working on that. Trip
planted his hands on his hips and studied her demeanor, noting her less rigid
posture and shadowed eyes. “You feeling alright? I know Phlox
released you yesterday, but---” T’Pol
straightened her spine. “I am fine.” “You
were hit by a plasma bullet.” “Nevertheless…I
am fine.” Trip’s
gaze narrowed. “Right.” He stepped back away from the door.
“Sorry to bother you, Sub-Commander.” He turned, took two steps away and
stopped. His shoulders drooped, and he pivoted back around on his
heel. His gaze softened. “I’m a great listener if you ever need to,
you know…talk.” “That
will not be necessary.” Trip
smiled gently. “Probably not. But just in case it ever
is…” he let his voice trail off. T’Pol
stared at him for a moment before tipping her head in the slightest of nods. Trip smothered a smirk, not
wanting to broadcast the wrong impression from his prominent seat on the
dais. She never got that ‘talking’ thing down either. He let his
mind continue to drift… October 31, 2152 Trip
juggled three PADDs and a cup of coffee as he tried to open his office
door. He managed to bump the release with his elbow, hurry to his desk,
and drop the PADDs just in time to prevent his java from spilling all over
himself and the deck. It was as he was sitting down that his attention
was snared by items decidedly out-of-place on his workspace --- a desk
typically draped only by the trappings of engineering minutiae. “What
the hell?” He leaned in to get a closer look, a smile spreading quickly across
his face. He grabbed up the three inch by three inch card that leaned
against the colorful items. Research indicates an opaque spectral apparition is an appropriate representation of this Terran holiday. The purpose of
the confection, however, remains illusive. Trick-or-Treat.
The
card was unsigned. Trip eyed the colorful items in bemusement. Sitting
in the middle of his desk was a six-inch stuffed ghost. Holding
a plastic pumpkin. Filled
with candy corn. “Trick-or-Treat,
T’Pol,” he murmured quietly. Trip rubbed a hand against
his face, surreptitiously wiping away a tear. He distantly heard a somber
Admiral take his turn at the podium. October 31, 2153 Trip
reached out to press the chime. At her summons, he entered T’Pol’s dimly
lit quarters. The Vulcan was seated on a cushion in the middle of the
room. He paused two steps inside the door, allowing it to close behind
him. “Hi.” “Good
evening. Please…remove your shirt and sit facing away from me.” T’Pol
sat back and dropped her hands. “I still do not fully understand this
phrase.” “You’re
kidding me.” Trip looked over his shoulder at her. “This is your
third Halloween on the ship!” T’Pol
lifted an eyebrow. “Vulcans do not ‘kid.’ Face forward and
breathe.” She resumed manipulating the neural nodes on his spine. Trip
shrugged. “Trick-or-Treat, T’Pol. It means you have to give me a
treat. If you don’t, I’ll play a trick on you.” “Does
not ensuring you sleep uninterrupted through the night constitute a
‘treat,’ Commander?” Trip
sighed. “Never mind.” October 31, 2154 Trip
raced down the wooded path. He leapt over tree roots and dodged branches,
his feet pounding the dirt. When he finally skidded to a halt, he fell to
his knees beside a prone and bleeding T’Pol. Trip scooped the petite
Vulcan into his arms and headed back from whence he came, a young MACO keeping
pace alongside him. She
regained consciousness while he was running back to the Shuttlepod.
“Trip,” she whispered weakly. He
glanced down at her quickly before turning his focus back to the uneven
terrain. “Let me guess?” his tone heavy with exasperation. “This
year you chose ‘trick’?”
Do you ever miss me? Trip crossed his arms over
his chest and rocked back in his chair. He kept his gaze on the ground. October 31, 2161 Trip
opened his apartment door and blinked in surprise. “Thought you were
shipping out today?” T’Pol
calmly stood on his doorstep, hands clasped behind her back. “I am.
This evening at 1700hrs.” He
stepped back and waved her in. “Well, not that I’m not glad to see ya,
but what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be getting ready to leave?” She
nodded. “I am nearly prepared.” She watched him closely as he
crossed the room. “Are you well?” Trip
waved off her concern. “Today’s a good day. Most of them are
now.” He looked over at her and winked. “You don’t have to check up
on me anymore.” T’Pol
straightened indignantly. “That was not the purpose of my visit.” Trip
narrowed his gaze and tipped his head in thought. Like a light bulb
clicking on over his head, he brightened. “Trick-or-Treat, T’Pol.” Her
brow rose in acknowledgment and she slowly approached him. When she was
close enough to touch, she leaned up and pressed her lips to his cheek,
lingering for a moment. Trip’s
mouth dropped open. Several seconds passed before a wide smile graced his
features. “Not sure I deserved that,” he murmured. “You probably
should have given me a ‘trick’.” T’Pol
crossed back to his front door and opened it. At the threshold, she
looked over her shoulder and again lifted her brow. “Who’s to say I
didn’t?” October 31, 2163 Trip
entered his office at Headquarters and absently moved to his desk. A wave
of déjà vu swept over him when he saw what lay there. A
bucket of candy corn. And
a note. Still illusive. Trick-or-Treat Trip
tapped the card against his chin and sighed. “I love you, lady,” he
murmured with regret. October 31, 2166 It
was late when Trip finally entered his apartment. He carelessly tossed
his satchel full of manuals on the sofa and immediately went looking
for something to drink. As he passed his workstation,
a flashing light caught his eye. He paused to key up his comm.
message to play while he continued on to the kitchen. When
he heard nothing from the message, he looked around the corner. A weary
grin surfaced. There it was on the screen. In big, orange letters. Trick-or-Treat It was the last
communication he’d gotten from her. Trip gazed sightlessly over the
gathered crowd. Do you ever miss me? She’d never really gotten
it. Not once in all the years he’d known her. He smiled tearfully
and again tuned out the ceremony. The bugle. The shots. Trick-or-Treat. Trip wiped the moisture
from his eyes. Trick-or-Treat. He raised his face toward
the sky, renegade tears continuing to escape from tightly closed lids. As
the shots rang out, memories rained down upon him in a firefight of epic
proportions. Trick-or-Treat. T’Pol. Do you ever miss me? I’ll try to remember
that. I have more letters in
my quarters. Would you like to read those as well? That would imply that my
subconscious mind controls my decisions. It doesn't. T’Pol. Are you implying I'm
making sexual advances? The risk of paralysis is
minimal. Breathe. Do you ever miss me? You're implying that I'm
attracted to you. Which would mean you're
attracted to me. It goes with the assumption. You think that the loss of
a colleague or friend doesn't affect us? It does. Do you ever miss me? I am not old. I will
only be sixty-six years old on my next birthday. Vulcans appreciate
beauty. I'm grateful that you're
here. Do you ever miss me? I'm learning, it seems
for the first time, what it truly means to be Vulcan. Are you leaving because
of me? There's a long-held
belief that when a Vulcan mates, there's a shared psychic bond. Do you ever miss me? It proves that even the
most disagreeable species have some positive attributes. Wait. Trip! I
want you to come back. Do you ever miss me? I can't explain how it
exists, but I know it does. There's a child out there, and it's ours. Her name is Elizabeth. Do you ever miss me? T’Pol. However long it may be,
I believe I'm going to miss you. Trip gasped; the pain of
loss acute. Trick-or-treat. Do you ever miss me? He detected a shadow
falling across his person and opened his eyes to the unwelcome sight of a
Starfleet Lieutenant holding out a bundle of fabric. Even blinded by tears he
recognized the tightly bound triangle. Do you ever miss me? How was he to know she’d
made him her next-of-kin? She’d never told him. Do you ever miss me? “Captain Tucker, sir.
As a
representative of Starfleet, it is my high privilege to present you this flag.
Let it be a symbol of the grateful appreciation the United Federation of
Planets feels for the faithful and distinguished service rendered to the
Federation by your loved one.” Do you ever miss me? Oh, God. Do you ever miss me? Every damned day, darlin’. Do you ever miss me? Every damned day. “Trick-or-Treat, T’Pol.” |
Like it? Hate it? Just want to point out a typo? Join the discussion now.
Disclaimer: Star Trek in all its various forms and its characters are the property of CBS/Paramount. No copyright infringement is intended by the authors of this site, which is solely for the purpose of entertainment and is not for profit. This site is owned by CX and was opened to the public in February 2008.