"Hado Venceres Tradición" by A. Rhea King Rating: PG Disclaimer: Don't own the, CBS/Paramount does. Summary: Trip thought the hardest thing he'd have to do was ask T'Pol to marry him. He was dead wrong. -- This is the final story of my series Author’s Note: This was written before we learned T’Pol’s father was dead and her mother was killed. CHAPTER 4 Archer led Trip into the Captain’s mess and motioned to a chair to his left between his chair and T’Pol’s mother. T’Pol was sitting on the right beside her brother. Trip flashed T’Pol a smile as he sat down. “Hi,” Trip said to her. “Hello.” Trip unfolded his napkin in his lap and was silent as the steward served them their dishes. “We are moving to the next phase of the fet’ah. You will both answer questions truthfully,” T’Pol’s father announced. Trip had stabbed a bite of his salad and lifted it half way to his mouth before her father spoke. He slowly looked up at the man and then T’Pol. She was looking at her hands. Trip sat his fork down. “I have not introduced you to my family, husband,” T’Pol said, looking at Trip. “This is my father Tuir, my mother T’Kel, and my youngest brother Tol.” Trip greeted the three with a small smile. “Howdy.” “Lieutenant-Commander Tucker—” Tuir began. “It’s Trip, or Charles, sir. You don’t need to use my rank,” Trip corrected him. “You’re family so you can use my name.” “Charles, father,” T’Pol said. “Very well. Charles, T’Pol has told us that the two of you have taken in an orphan.” “That’s Amy.” “She is half Suliban and half human, correct?” “Yeah.” “In what manner are you planning on raising the child? As a human, Suliban or Vulcan?” “We plan on raising her as we see fit, if we never find her brother.” “And if you do find her brother, you would willingly give up the child?” Trip sat his fork down, looking at the table. “Yes,” T’Pol answered. “Maybe,” Trip answered at the same time. “You two have not discussed this matter?” “There hasn’t been any reason to discuss it. Amy was abandon with us and took a shine to T’Pol here.” “I have seen you interact with the child. You cannot tell me you don’t assume responsibility for her.” “I’m not. I’m saying that we, T’Pol and I, have never discussed how to raise her. We don’t know how long she’ll be with us, but she can’t run wild around the ship. I’m sure any Vulcan in our position wouldn’t want a child running loose on their ship without someone to watch after the kid.” “On a Vulcan vessel, they would not have taken on the responsibility of another race or put themselves in a position where they would feel obligated to. I have read many accounts where Enterprise and her crew have.” Trip stuffed a bite of salad in his mouth to keep from snarling back a response. There was a brief silence and then Tuir continued. “My daughter told us you had not planned on asking her to marry her. Is that so?” “No. That isn’t so.” Trip looked at Tuir. Tuir looked at T’Pol and then Trip. “Explain.” “I was going to ask her to marry me, I hadn’t decided on when. I found out she found the ring and asked her to marry me that night.” “Why is that?” “It was as good a time as any.” “And you still wish to marry her knowing she’s a barren and an inferior female?” Trip looked back down at his plate, his jaw tensing. Archer looked up at Tuir and then at Trip. He slowly sat his fork down, careful not to make a sound doing it, and waited for an explosion he sure was building in Trip. Out of the corner of his eye he saw that T’Pol was also watching Trip. Trip suddenly stabbed a bite of lettuce and held it up for Tuir to see. “I see you’ve eaten your salad,” Trip said. Tuir glanced at his plate. “Has she told you she is barren?” “Answer my question first, Mister…you.” “Yes. I have.” “Ya like it?” “It was palatable.” “But you’d rather have something else?” “Yes.” “Why is that?” “This is not a customary Vulcan meal. It doesn’t settle well with my digestive system.” “She’s not a customary Vulcan, but I wouldn’t exchange her for the universe, Tuir, because I love her. Now I don’t know how any of these questions have a damned thing to do with that, but let me make something real clear to you, your wife and your son. I love your daughter. I would put my life before hers. She can be annoying and she has her faults, but I’m not picnic to live with either. Now as for this barren bullshit, that’s all it is. So what. She can’t have kids. Unlike Vulcans and even some humans, I don’t see a woman as damaged goods because of that. There are other ways to have children and when she and I come to that point in our lives, she and I will decide how we want to go about it. Not you. Not your wife. Not her grandparents or uncles or aunts or the God damned Vulcan High Command. She and I. You aren’t invited to that discussion. And did you get all that down, shorty?” Trip looked at T’Pol’s brother. Everyone looked at him. He had a PADD in his hand and looked up from it. “I was reviewing my questions,” Tol said. “Keep up the good work, squirt.” Trip popped the bite of salad in his mouth and turned his attention back to his meal. Archer looked at T’Pol. She was looking at her plate, her hands folded neatly in her lap. Archer looked down. “You appear uncomfortable being around your wife’s family, Charles,” T’Kel said. “Naw. I’m just frustrated, ma’am. I haven’t gotten to be with my wife for three days and I miss ‘er.” T’Kel lifted her chin. “How can you miss your wife when you see her every day?” “I miss her company. I miss her touch. I miss watching her sleep. I miss feeling her next to me when I wake up in the morning. I miss how she gives me this look when she’s irritated with me. I miss my wife!” “What look are you referring to, Charles?” T’Pol asked. “You know. That look you give me.” “I do not know which look you’re referring to.” “You kind of squint and your jaw tenses and your breathing gets a little shallow and you tense up in your shoulders. Then you go about explaining, in great detail, telling me what I did to irritate you.” “I was unaware I had any external indications when I was irritated with you.” Trip looked at her, smiling. “You have a lot of ‘external indications’ that I bet you know nothing about.” “So you’re saying my daughter has little control of her emotions?” Tuir asked. “No. I’ve just been close to her for so long that I can read her without her saying a word. After spending so much time with her, I’ve discovered a lot of Vulcans have emotions, but they are so subtle most humans don’t see them. You, for instance, have gotten tighter in the face the more we’ve talked. Just like your daughter does when she’s mad about something. She doesn’t sound different or act any different, but I know that it means she’s mad. Now I know who she gets it from.” “I wasn’t aware you were so sensitive to my emotions,” T’Pol commented. “T’Pol, you are not to speak during this,” Tuir said. “And why isn’t she?” “That is not tradition.” “So now we’re a traditional couple?” “No,” Tuir asked, his voice sounding slightly flat, “Which is why I would advise you to nullify this union.” Everyone looked at him. “I have already told you, father, I am not nullifying my marriage to Charles,” T’Pol said. “This union is unsuitable.” “For who? You or her?” Trip asked. “She does not understand you and you do not understand her. You have indicated you had no intention of asking her to marry you, you have avoided telling me your opinion on her inability to have children and now you claim she shows emotions she knows nothing about. She has indicated that living with you is uncomfortable, that you question your own Captain regularly, and that you often times approach problems without thinking them through. You are an unsuitable husband for my only daughter.” Trip looked at T’Pol. She was staring at her father. T’Pol stood suddenly, dropping her napkin on the table. “Captain,” T’Pol looked at Archer, “I request permission to be dismissed.” Archer hesitated, feeling Tuir’s eyes on him. “Granted.” T’Pol walked around the table to the door. “You have never been good at handling family confrontations, T’Pol,” Tuir scolded. “This is only one more reason to nullify your marriage to this human.” T’Pol stopped at the door, her hand over the controls. “No, father, I have never been successful at handling my Vulcan family confrontations.” T’Pol looked at him. Trip turned in his chair, looking up at T’Pol. “I have successfully handled confrontations with my family by marriage, my husband, my crew and with Captain Archer. I now share my husband’s belief that we are not in need of the fet’ah ritual and I will not annul the marriage for you, father. Perhaps one day you can forgive my delinquency. Excuse me.” T’Pol left the room. Trip looked at Archer. Archer waved him off. Trip jumped up and ran after T’Pol. Archer returned to eating. “Isn’t it against Starfleet policy for officers to become involved, Captain Archer?” Tuir asked. “Would be. If she was in Starfleet, Tuir.” Archer looked up at him. “Good soup?” Tuir looked away without answering. # T’Pol heard someone walk up behind her and turned. She pulled her hands behind her, watching her mother look around the astrometric lab. “You have much responsibility aboard this vessel.” “Indeed, mother.” “Your father never thought you’d make commanding rank.” “I have done so successfully.” “You have.” “The three of you depart tonight, am I correct?” “Yes.” T’Kel turned to T’Pol. “May we speak in private, daughter?” T’Pol turned and led her out of the room and down the hall. They stepped onto a lift and T’Pol tapped the controls. The doors opened on deck A and T’Pol led her to the observation room. T’Pol turned to face her. “Your father may never accept your union, T’Pol. You must know that.” “I do know this.” “I feel differently, however. I have watched you and your husband and you have acquired a relation with him that I have rarely seen. He shows a great deal of affection toward you and you display the same toward him. To be frank, daughter, I felt he was an acceptable mate when he told your father that his affection for you wasn’t lessened because of your inability to have children. No Vulcan man would have said that, daughter.” “I know. I was relieved when I too learned the matter didn’t sway his decision to have me as his wife.” T’Kel walked up to T’Pol, taking T’Pol’s hands in her own. “But do you know where I truly found admiration and a motherly affection for him, daughter?” “Where?” “Every morning you and he perform the kar’tiq, and every morning that I’ve watched you two perform it, he always ends it with a kiss on your forehead. When you close your eyes I can tell that you feel as one with him. I would never tell you to disobey your father’s wishes without sound reason. Rest assured, daughter, you have a sound reason to disobey his wishes. Do not break your union with this human. Remain with him. Your life will be incomplete if you leave him.” T’Pol looked down when T’Kel brushed her finger over the ruby wedding ring on T’Pol’s finger. “Fire ruby red was the color you chose for everything as a child.” T’Pol looked up at her mother’s face. “I did?” “Yes. You did. I must go. Your father awaits and I’d best not keep him waiting. Is it true that human mothers hug their children?” “Yes, as do many mothers of alien cultures.” T’Kel gently pulled T’Pol into her arms and hugged her. T’Pol didn’t pull away or tense. She wrapped her arms around her mother and hugged her back. T’Kel was smiling when she pulled away. “Vulcan’s only smile on very special occasions, T’Pol. Remember this when you hold a child in your arms. Even if you’ve adopted it, it will be yours and his.” “I will, mother.” T’Kel turned and left, her smile vanishing before she left the room. # T’Pol didn’t look up when Trip climbed into bed with her. She continued reading her book. “You and your books,” Trip teased, pulling the book from her hand. “I was reading, Charles.” “Yeah, and now your not.” Trip marked her place with the ribbon lying on T’Pol’s stomach and sat it on the bed stand. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. He reached up toward the control panel on the headboard to turn off the lights. “Wait,” T’Pol said. Charles looked at her face. T’Pol turned on her side. She reached up and laid her hand on his face. “Are you angry with me?” “For what?” “For telling my parents that living with you is uncomfortable.” “T’Pol, sweetheart, you’ve been telling me I’m uncomfortable to live with since we shipped out from port eight years ago, looooong before we were dating or married. And I have to admit, I like to throw wet towels on the floor, toss my boots when I get home…what’s not to be uncomfortable with when you’re a neat freak like you, baby?” “Neat freak?” Trip kissed her nose. “And I love every ounce of your neat freakiness.” Trip reached up and tapped the light control, turning them off. “Neat freakiness?” T’Pol questioned. Trip chuckled, pulling her close. “I love you, baby. Annoying father and all.” The room was silent for several moments. T’Pol sat up. “What do you mean when you call me a neat freak?” Trip laughed. He grabbed her waist and pushed her back down on the bed, using his body to keep her pinned down. “Means I love you. Go to sleep.” T’Pol relaxed under him, letting him cuddle up to her side and fall asleep with his head on her chest. In the darkness she was smiling, not carrying if she was allowing her joy to surface. And all good things must come to an end. All that is left is the Tweens. But the stories themselves have run their creative course. Hasta luego! Back to Chapter 3 The next Tweens story is Bottom of the Ninth

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