The Guardian of Forever

Rating: R for sexual themes and bad language.
Disclaimer: Star Trek belongs to CBS/Paramount, not me. “Demons” was written by Manny Coto. “Terra Prime” was written by Judith and Garfield Reeves-Stevens.
Genre: Angst-o-rama, but all will be well in the end.
Description: What happened between the end of “Bound” and the beginning of “Demons” to make Trip and T’Pol as distant as they appeared to be? Well, here’s one theory. I thought this would be my usual little missing scenes piece, but it’s morphed into a multi-chapter story that will take my favorite couple through “Demons” and “Terra Prime” and past. Obviously, you can expect spoilers for those two episodes, though I try to avoid overlapping with them.

Author's Note: Thanks to JustTripn for beta and moral support while I freak everybody out. This is the long-promised conclusion. Let me know what you think.

“Come in,” Trip said. He’d sat on his bunk for he didn’t know how long and sobbed until there were no more tears left. Now he felt wrung out, empty.

Trip once again forgot not to shrug, but he didn’t really mind the pain of it. It was, perversely, a kind of relief from the other, more profound pain. “About the way you’d expect, I guess.”

Archer swallowed and looked down at the deck for a moment. “I’m here because Samuels says he’s gotten the delegates to change their minds about postponing the conference. He wants senior staff there again tomorrow when it resumes. In fact, he wants me to give a speech.”

It occurred to Trip that Archer was waiting for a reaction from him. “I guess that’s good news.”

“You and T’Pol are both entitled to bereavement leave and I think you should take it, but I wanted to let you know. I thought perhaps you’d be pleased to know that Paxton’s plan didn’t work. It didn’t stop this. I’m sure it’s still going to take a lot of work, but at least we’ve still got a fighting chance at getting this coalition off the ground.”

Archer said, “Do you think … do you think I should let T’Pol know, or would it be better to leave her alone right now?”

“If for any reason you want to be there, it starts at 0900,” Archer said. “We’ll be shuttling down at 0830. But you do what you need to do for yourself. Maybe you’d like to go stay with your parents for awhile?”

“They’re going to be at the memorial service,” Trip said. “And I plan to spend some time with them after that. Right now … right now I think I’m still just trying to wrap my head around what just happened. It’s a lot to take in.”

“I know,” Archer said. “If there’s anything I can do to help, just let me know.”

Trip nodded. He’d heard that from a lot of his crewmates already. But of course the only thing they could do that would really help was not something anyone could do.

Trip was surprised to see T’Pol gathered with the others outside the shuttle bay the next morning. She looked pale, and that emotional wall was up just as thoroughly as it had been since they’d brought Elizabeth home, but she was apparently determined to continue performing her duties.

For his part, Trip had decided he needed to put his back against some work – plus he thought of it as spitting in Paxton’s eye. He hoped the bastard got to watch the whole thing from his cell. Trip was also pretty sure he’d completely cried himself out over the last twelve hours, so hopefully he wouldn’t have to worry about embarrassing himself in public.

His first instinct had actually been to go to engineering and do something useful, but he didn’t want to face his staff’s sympathy, and he knew he shouldn’t get involved with any delicate equipment in the state he was in. And he sure as hell didn’t want to do paperwork. So he’d do the upstanding Starfleet officer routine and stand there. How hard could that be?

His colleagues patted him and asked him how he was, and he nodded and said he was fine and picked a seat as far back as he could get. T’Pol sat down at his side. Apparently Elizabeth was still buying him a temporary reprieve from the distant-for-three-years rule. “How are you holding up?” he asked softly.

“Well,” he said, falling into the exact same banality everyone had been offering him, “If I can help in any way, let me know.”

She looked at him, and he wished that he dared slip his hand into hers. But they definitely weren’t supposed to touch, were they?

Shit, he was going to start crying again. He focused fiercely on the deck, blinking. He must not fall apart. Not here. Not now.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw her straighten in her seat, and somehow knew she was thinking the same thing.

The next morning, Trip walked into her quarters and said, “The delegates at the conference, they've asked about the service for….” He struggled against tears. “… For Elizabeth. They want to attend.”

T'pol was sitting hunched over at the end of her bunk, wrapped in layers of Vulcan robes. “She was important,” she said softly.

He sat down next to her. “There's something else. I spoke with Phlox. It turns out there was a flaw in the technique that Paxton's doctors used in the cloning process. Human DNA and Vulcan DNA, Phlox says there's no medical reason why they can't combine.” He took a fortifying breath. He knew that the last thing T’Pol needed was for him to sit here and cry, and he knew that any hope he still carried that they might yet form a family someday was ridiculous, but he also wanted this on the record, damn it. “So if a Vulcan and a human ever decided to have a child, it'd probably be okay. And that's sort of comforting.”

Their hands clasped; he couldn’t even say for certain who had initiated it, but he knew her hand wouldn’t be in his if she hadn’t done something to put it there. Trip felt her love and compassion and shared grief wash over him like a soothing balm, and just hoped she was getting something back. He said, “I wish we could have been a family, T’Pol. It felt like a dream come true for a little while there.” He blinked rapidly, trying not to completely lose it. “I know you would have been a wonderful mom.”

He swallowed. “Thank you. That means a lot to me.” He took a deep breath and they sat there, hand in hand. He said, “You’re ready for the service?”

“My family is going to be there, so I guess you’ll finally get to meet them. I’m just sorry it’s under circumstances like these.”

He expected her to pull away from him, then, to reassert her distance, but she didn’t. She asked, “Do they know how Elizabeth came to be?”

“Yeah, they know.” He scowled. “The whole planet knows. It’s a big story. Jon said they’ve had to put a lot of extra security in for the service.”

She stared at the floor for a few moments, then asked, “Do they know about us?”

“Well…Mom and Dad have figured out that I’m hopelessly in love with you, if that’s what you mean. Nobody else that I know of. I doubt my parents would have blabbed it.”

“Don’t worry. They’re very polite. Nobody’s going to start screaming at you about your bad taste in turning me down. I imagine they’re mostly going to be trying to figure out how to feel about this grandchild they never knew they had.” He bit his lip, trying not to get weepy again. “I need to go stop by my quarters,” he said. He squeezed her hand and let it go. “I’ll see you at the shuttle, okay?”

The hall was packed. Elizabeth’s tiny coffin sat between the two aisles at the front, draped with both the colors of United Earth and of Vulcan. Trip and T’Pol sat in the left front row together with other Enterprise crew, while the rows immediately behind them held Tucker relatives, to whom T’Pol had been somewhat awkwardly introduced. Samuels was sitting on the right front row, along with Soval and Admiral Gardner and various other dignitaries and delegates.

Archer gripped the two sides of the podium like a life raft and gave Trip a look that he interpreted as I’m really sorry for your loss, and I really hope you won’t hate me for this eulogy. He cleared his throat, and began:

“We first discovered that Elizabeth Tucker existed five days ago. Three days ago, her parents brought her home to Enterprise, after Paxton and his Terra Prime sympathizers were defeated. Then they watched helplessly as their little girl, who had been created using flawed techniques by Terra Prime’s physicians, grew ill and died.

“In total, they knew their daughter for less than thirty-six hours. I can’t even begin to imagine how they must feel.

“Paxton hoped that creating a Vulcan-Human hybrid would galvanize public opinion on earth against cooperation with our allies from other worlds. It’s hard to believe he could really imagine that such a sweet little baby could strike terror into human hearts, and indeed there has been a great outpouring of support and sympathy for little Elizabeth Tucker and her family.

“I’d like to think that as we go forward from this day, we can take as an example her parents, Commander T’Pol of Vulcan and Commander Charles Tucker III of Florida. T’Pol, my first officer and science officer, keeps a typically Vulcan lid on her emotions. Trip, as my chief engineer is known, is not famous for his emotional reserve. I’ll admit that it took a little while, but these two ultimately became good friends, in addition to being the best two senior officers a captain could wish for. In a crisis, I’ve seen them work miracles together. I only wish they could have received a miracle for their daughter.

“They named her after Trip’s sister Elizabeth, who was lost in the Xindi attack. To the whole Tucker family, who has lost so much, I can only offer my heartfelt sympathy. And to T’Pol, who lost her mother just this year, who I know is feeling the bitter pangs of losing her own child even if she doesn’t express it in the same way humans do – I wish peace.

“For little Elizabeth, I hope we can create something hopeful from this tragedy. We must strike back against hatred and fear and intolerance. In the name of this beautiful lost child, let us move ahead toward a more peaceful, cooperative, mutually-beneficial future that includes not only all of us here on Earth, but our friends across the galaxy. Let that be her fitting memorial. Thank you.”

Trip sat there, numb. Not a bad eulogy, he thought, with a distant, analytical part of his mind. Depend on Jon to turn it into a rallying cry for intergalactic cooperation, but whatever. Next to him, T’Pol seemed to be staring unseeingly ahead.

An elderly Vulcan priest slowly came forward and stood in front of them both. He lifted an intrigued eyebrow as he gazed at Trip. Trip stared back at him. Then the priest stooped down in front of T’Pol and softly said something in Vulcan that Trip did not understand.

The priest reached his hands out, placing one on the coffin and the other on the side of T’Pol’s face. Trip watched, both curious and concerned, and had to resist his own instinct to draw back when, after a moment’s hesitation, she turned to him and raised her other hand to his face. With her touch, it was as if a circuit had been connected, and he felt as if he’d been pitched into a yawning black emptiness that somehow reached out to the whole universe and utterly overtook the room in which they were sitting.

She is no longer here, thy little one.
She hast blown away in the wind.
Her katra belongs to sky and the stars.
Her katra belongs to the dust and the stones.
Her katra belongs to all the ages gone.
She is indeed lost to thee.
There is no greater loss than this.
I grieve with thee.
All present grieve with thee.

And it was as if they did. He felt T’Pol’s grief and the priest’s gentle concern and a whole roomful of people’s sympathy – mixed with curiosity – for just a moment, before T’Pol’s hand dropped. Trip blinked, dumped back into the bright, full hall from that strange darkness.

The priest was staring at him again. He gave him an uncertain smile back. The old Vulcan’s bald recitation had somehow soothed him more than any other words of comfort he’d heard so far, perhaps because he hadn’t attempted comfort at all.

She said nothing, but she took his hand, and to Trip’s great surprise she held on to it throughout the remainder of the ceremony, even as they followed Elizabeth’s coffin out.

Elizabeth was buried in a plot on the Starfleet grounds. The Tuckers had been cremating their dead for generations, but Vulcans either buried or entombed theirs, which probably made sense for people living on a planet with lots of land and very little wood. He had been a little surprised that T’Pol preferred to bury Elizabeth on Earth, but she seemed to feel it was more important to have a timely burial than a traditional one.

There was a chill breeze blowing in off the water and the burial itself was a spare business: apparently Vulcans just got the job done – literally taking up shovels in the process – then sat in silent meditation for awhile, and moved on. The Starfleet chaplain seemed to take his cue from that and kept his own words brief. After the grave was filled, the many flower arrangements from the hall were piled over it by the cemetery’s attendants, creating a giant, garish heap that struck Trip as ridiculously out of scale to the tiny child lying under it. He would have cleared them all off and let the barren ground speak for itself, if it were up to him. But of course, the flowers would be gone soon enough.

T’Pol had been provided with a mat and sat down in meditation in front of the grave. Soval joined her. Everyone else backed away respectfully.

“I’m going to go stay with my folks for a few days. When are we due to ship out?”

“Not until the conference is over. So you’ve got at least a week to do whatever you want, I hope. In the meantime, I’m rotating leaves for most of the crew while we check out the systems Jupiter Station updated. We’re also doing a full security sweep. I told T’Pol that Gardner said once we head out again we could stop over at Vulcan for a time if that was what she wanted. She didn’t really say whether she wanted to, though.”

Trip bade farewell to Archer and his other crewmates and returned to his parents and his sister. “You must be getting cold,” he said. “Why don’t you head back home? I’ll catch up with you.”

“We thought perhaps you would join us for lunch first,” his father said. “Both of you, if you’d like.”

Soval had departed; Trip could see him striding to catch up with the captain. Trip looked back at T’Pol, a small mound of robes huddled in front of the giant mountain of flowers, framed by Starfleet security officers standing at attention on either side of the grave. “Thanks, but I think we need a little more time here,” he said.

“I’ll invite her,” Trip said. “But I wouldn’t count on her showing up.” He turned and hugged his sister. “Thanks for coming all this way, Hannah.” Then he hugged his parents. “I’ll call if I think I’m going to run late.”

He watched them walk down the hill toward the shuttle and turned back to T’Pol. He sat down next to her, on the mat Soval had vacated, trying to arrange himself comfortably and utterly failing. It was too damned cold and he was beginning to shiver. The wind blew and the gulls screamed and he thought about all the ways in which Elizabeth had never had a chance. “It’s not fair,” he finally said. “What kind of life did she have, with those bastards?”

Trip sighed. That was another death to lay at Paxton’s door. T’Pol watched him, her face impassive.

“What do you want to do, T’Pol? Would you like me to leave you alone here?”

“Then let’s go get something hot to drink,” he said. “I’m freezing.”

They stood together for a moment, staring at the grave. Trip sighed. Once again, T’Pol took his hand. “Goodbye, little one,” he said, and they turned and left.

They went to one of the coffee shops on the grounds and sat at a table close to its fireplace, which featured an ersatz but nonetheless warming “fire.” T’Pol stared at it for awhile, possibly perplexed by the fake wood and the manufactured crackling sounds, but she didn’t say anything. Perhaps she was getting used to human sentimentality.

“My parents invited you to the house later, if you’d like to join me,” Trip said. “I told them you probably wouldn’t, though, so don’t feel obligated.”

“I have no other family with whom to observe this event here,” T’Pol said. “I do have relatives on Vulcan, but they have not been in contact with me since my mother died. If I do not hear from them after this, I believe I must assume that they do not wish to continue the relationship.”

“I’m sure there’s a significant delay to Vulcan,” Trip said. “That’s probably all it is.”

Trip was suspicious now. Was T’Pol being shunned? He hadn’t gotten that impression from the priest, or from the other Vulcans present, especially Soval, but maybe he just hadn’t picked up on it. “What did that priest this morning say to you today, before that prayer?”

T’Pol looked uncomfortable. “He said I mustn’t make a beggar of my bond mate.”

The old Vulcan guy was actually in his corner? That was interesting. “How’d he know we were bond mates?”

“Oh. But, then, wouldn’t he have an idea about our…” Trip grimaced. “Recent decision?”

She got that cornered look. “This may not be the best place to discuss this.”

Some instinct told him not to press her, today of all days. He sighed. “Well, if you’re really going to go to my folks, I guess we might as well get going.”

Starfleet had offered them a personal shuttle and Trip was happy to take them up on the offer. He collected a bag he had stowed and they went to the shuttle hub. “Why do you have luggage?” T’Pol asked.

“Do you need one? I figured you could just take a shuttle back up to the ship tonight.”

Trip squinted at her, confused. “Are you suggesting that you’d actually be willing to stay at my parents’ house for a few days?”

Trip felt he was having trouble keeping up. “Well,” he said slowly. “I guess we could go back up to the ship and get you a bag, if you want.”

“Different shuttle port,” he said, and steered in another direction. “I can’t help thinking the transporter would make this a lot easier.”

“Agreed,” T’Pol said, and took out her communicator. “T’Pol to Enterprise.”

Archer met them at the transporter pad. “Did Starfleet get in touch with you yet?”

“There have been some developments.” Archer smiled grimly. “Let’s go sit down and I’ll catch you up.”

In his ready room, Archer brought up one of Earth’s news feeds on his monitor. “That’s my parents’ place!” Trip said, his heart sinking.

A reporter was standing in front of the Tucker home, talking. Archer hadn’t bothered turning the volume up. “The media is camping out in your parents’ front yard,” he said. “It’s not just Paxton and Terra Prime that’s a big story, it’s Elizabeth and it’s you and T’Pol. It wasn’t too hard to contain as long as you stayed within the grounds, but at your parents’….”

Trip stared at the screen. He could see that his parents had drawn their curtains, something they never did during the day. “This is ridiculous!”

Archer said, “I’ve been talking with Starfleet. We’ve got security concerns here, and publicity concerns, and of course you and your parents’ privacy to worry about. But the public is also naturally curious to learn more, especially given recent events.”

Trip was afraid he knew where this was going. “You’re not going to put us in a press conference.”

“No,” Archer said. “But Starfleet would like you to make a statement. Both of you. You wouldn’t need to accept questions at this point. In fact, Starfleet specifically doesn’t want you to answer any questions. They prefer to handle that themselves. And they’d also like to help you craft your statements.”

“I don’t want to make any damned statement! I just want to be able to go spend some time with my family in peace! Is that too much to ask at a time like this?”

She said, “Starfleet understands Earth media relations better than I do. If a statement is required, I am of course willing to make one. However, I don’t understand what such a statement would need to contain beyond facts already disclosed to the public.”

“This has nothing to do with the facts,” Trip said. “They just want the pictures! They’re hoping they’ll get to see the human guy lose it and the Vulcan be Vulcan, for the cameras.”

Archer frowned. “It’s not just about Elizabeth. There’s a great deal of curiosity about the relationship between the two of you. There are plenty of rumors out there. It has already been noted that you visited Vulcan with T’Pol...”

“…and that she is already divorced, which is quite rare among Vulcans. And by the way, it’s not just the media asking. Admiral Gardner wants to know, too.”

“That you were fellow officers who often need to work closely together, that you had become good friends, and that as far as I knew, that was all there was to it. He wanted to know why, if that was true, you were holding hands during the service.”

“God damn it,” Trip said. He stopped pacing and threw himself down into the seat.

T’Pol said, “I believe I can explain that, Captain. As a Vulcan, I am under specific obligations to the father of my child, no matter how that child came to be. It appeared to me that Commander Tucker required emotional support, which I provided.”

Archer eyed her skeptically. “Vulcans don’t even hold hands in public with their own spouses, T’Pol.”

“Vulcan spouses are generally Vulcan, Captain. Commander Tucker is not. As a Vulcan who has served among humans for four years, it is merely logical that I sometimes make small accommodations to human custom.”

“Okay. But unless I am much mistaken, Commander Tucker is also not your spouse.”

“As I said earlier, I was hoping to explain this to you in a more appropriate setting,” T’Pol said.

Archer’s slack jaw finally shut. “Maybe I should leave you two alone for a moment?” He all but ran for the door

She folded her arms, clearly uncomfortable. “Technically, it began the moment Elizabeth was conceived, although I believe we could have argued that in a case like this an exception could be made. However, when you add the fact that we are already bonded…”

“He laid hands on me, and through me, on you. It is the tradition with parents who have lost a child. So he would clearly now consider us to be married. And he is a Vulcan priest. I imagine he will have already begun to create the official record, though we will need to follow up with him.”

“You have said or implied that you wish to marry me on several occasions,” she reminded him.

“I’m sorry.” She took a deep breath. “I was … I am…. still adjusting to it myself.”

“No. It’s just … it’s a bit presumptuous, don’t you think? Bam, you’re married? ”

“Since Elizabeth has died, a petition for divorce might be entertained. If you wish it.”

Her eyes filled. “I want it. After what happened with Koss, I told myself that I would never let anyone push me into something this important against my better judgment ever again. Even you, Trip. But I do want it. I just…” She swallowed. “I fear that you will find marriage to me quite disappointing … and restrictive. I also seem to cause you a great deal of pain, without ever intending it.”

“Look,” he said softly. “I know it’s not going to be a walk in the park. But I still want it. I love you.”

She all but shuddered at the effort of containing a wave of strong emotion. He stepped forward and wrapped her in her arms, and she held on tight in return.

“So we’re married,” Trip said into her hair, still trying to take it in. “It’s official.”

He sighed. “That’s the good news. That’s what I wanted all along. The bad news is that I think we might have just lost our jobs.”

They ended up spending most of the rest of the day holed up in a conference room with Captain Archer and Admiral Gardner’s chief aide, as well as the heads of Starfleet’s communications office and personnel office, and Ambassador Soval. At Soval’s request, Sevek was also contacted, and corroborated what T’Pol had already explained to them. “These two are married,” he said. “There is no question. They had a child. They share a bond. This is the Vulcan way.”

“It somewhat complicates matters,” Soval said. He frowned at T’Pol. “What could you have been thinking?”

T’Pol flushed. “This occurred in the aftermath of my exposure to Trellium-D on the Seleya.”

Trip looked carefully at her, thinking: You’d better stop right there. “I guess I should have realized she wasn’t herself,” he said apologetically.

“Then this relationship is solely due to your exposure to Trellium-D and Paxton’s creation of your child?” Soval said to T’Pol, his eyes narrowing.

Archer and the other human males in the room turned their eyes to Trip, who scowled a bit. “Well, I always liked her,” he said, he said defensively. “What was I supposed to do?”

“You didn’t see anything inappropriate in getting involved with a senior officer?” Gardner’s aide growled.

“Oh, come on.” He resisted the urge to say just look at her! “Technically, she wasn’t even a member of Starfleet. And we were in the Expanse. We were all under tremendous stress. Not to mention…” He stuck his tongue in the side of his mouth. “How was I supposed to say no to a superior officer?”

“In my view, Commander Tucker was not at fault in any way for this,” T’Pol said. “And while my own behavior was poor, I believe one could argue extenuating circumstances. It took us some time to realize that a bond had been established. Upon doing so we reached a decision that we should attempt to let it dissolve. However, having had a child together, however involuntarily, removes that possibility under Vulcan tradition. Therefore, Commander Tucker and I must make the best of it. Since we share significant mutual respect and friendship, I do not find the prospect disagreeable.”

Most of the men in the room looked either confused or slightly repelled, though Archer mostly looked a bit skeptical. He had a better ear for their bullshit.

“So here we are,” Trip said. “If you want us to resign, that’s what we’ll do. I’m sure we can both find other employment somewhere.”

“Yes, let’s not go there yet,” Gardner’s aide said, with a sour look at his colleagues. “There’s got to be some way we can work this.”

After another half hour of deliberations hadn’t resolved anything, Trip called his parents and told them they weren’t going to make it that day. Starfleet was willing to relocate the whole Tucker clan away from the madness for awhile, but his mother said Grandma didn’t travel well and they’d just hunker down. Hannah took the offer to transport out, though. Trip beamed her up himself.

“You’re braver than I thought,” he said, when she materialized. “Do you know how few people are willing to use this thing?”

“It seemed easier than having to walk out through that pack of hyenas,” she said. “Plus I hate flying. What the hell have you gotten us into, Trip?”

“I’m still trying to figure that one out myself,” he said. “Is the back garden okay? It’s a little less likely to freak out your neighbors.”

“Hannah, we’re in the middle of a real mess here. I’m sorry, but I don’t have time to give you a tour.”

“Fine,” she said, with a pout. “Just don’t put me down in the compost pile.”

“I’m putting you two meters behind the back door,” he said. “Say hi to Patrick and Liam for me.” He beamed her down and headed back into the fray.

After awhile, as Archer and the senior brass argued options, Trip sat in his chair, next to T’Pol, and just let it all flow over his head.

The rest of the room fell away. They were the family they were always meant to be. Somewhere out there they’d already had a son and a life together, in another timeline. And for a scant few days in this one, they’d had a daughter. Maybe someday there would be other children. Phlox had said it was possible. But even if that never happened, they had each other.

Starfleet and the High Council could weigh in as much as they wanted, but there would be no going back on that one fundamental fact: They were married. She was his wife!

The sudden silence in the room finally intruded on their mutual regard. He looked up. The others were staring at them. “What?” he said.

Soval said drily, “It would be helpful, Commanders, if we could have your attention as we address these important issues.”

Trip scowled. “You know what? I just found out I’m married. Now, it’s been real nice working with ya and all, and I’m sure we’d both hate to leave Starfleet, but the bottom line is that we’re married and you’re just going to have to deal with it. Just like us.” He stood up. “I’d like to spend a little private time with my wife now. You let us know when you have something useful to tell us. We’ll be in…” He hesitated and looked at T’Pol, who had raised an eyebrow. “Her quarters.” T’Pol stood up, apparently agreeing, and gestured for him to go ahead of her.

At the door Trip stopped and added, “And by the way, if you decide you need to talk to us? I strongly suggest you knock first.”

No sooner were they in her quarters than Trip turned and kissed his wife hard, pushing her back up against the door she’d just closed. She kissed him back with equal ardor.

He backed away finally and looked down at her as she panted. “So this is really it, huh?”

“Well, I was. Until I realized that for once in my life weird Vulcan shit was actually working in my favor.”

He bit his own lip. “This has been one hell of a day, hasn’t it? We don’t really have to do anything. I just wanted to have some time alone with you.”

“After what you said in there, I can think of no other time when we are less likely to be disturbed.”

Trip smiled. “True.” He bent his head and kissed her again, thoroughly, then picked her up and carried her over to the bunk. “You know, I can’t tell you how happy I am to be stuck with you for the rest of my life.”

“It is agreeable to me as well, husband,” T’Pol said. “But at this point I would suggest less talking and more disrobing.”

Statement read to the press by Commander T’Pol of Enterprise NX-01, January 25, 2155:

Commander Tucker and I would like to thank all those who have expressed their condolences to us on the death of our daughter, Elizabeth. Although we only knew her a short time, she mattered a great deal to both of us. We share Captain Archer’s hope that, even though she was created by John Paxton and Terra Prime in the hope of inciting intolerance and isolationism, her short life might instead stand as a testament to the potential for cooperation between our species.

Commander Tucker has authorized me to speak on his behalf today. He is still coping with strong emotions over recent events and wished to spend this time with his family. I know that this period of mourning is customary on Earth, as indeed it is on Vulcan as well, and I trust that you will show the Commander’s family the respect they deserve by allowing them to experience this private family time undisturbed.

Starfleet has asked me to address certain questions and concerns that have arisen as to the nature of the relationship between me and Commander Tucker. Therefore, I will outline the pertinent facts for you. Hopefully this will resolve the matter fully. If you have further questions, I would ask you to direct them to Captain Sanchez of Starfleet’s Communications Office.

Commander Tucker and I have served on Enterprise since its launch in April of 2151.
While we were in the Expanse hunting for the Xindi last year, Commander Tucker and I had a short-lived romantic relationship. This was under the influence of external factors that remain classified. Starfleet has, however, fully investigated the matter and has determined that it did not merit disciplinary action.
When a child was created by Terra Prime using genetic material stolen from Enterprise’s sickbay, we became parents. Under Vulcan tradition, and in the absence of any conflicting commitments, this automatically created a formal legal relationship between us that roughly translates as marriage.
Neither Commander Tucker nor myself, nor Starfleet, wishes to disrespect Vulcan tradition by attempting to evade this legal relationship.
However, Commander Tucker and I are not married by law in any human jurisdiction, and do not plan to marry. Rather, we seek to continue our service aboard Enterprise as professional colleagues who continue to observe Starfleet’s rules and regulations. After some consideration, Starfleet has agreed to overlook the technical legal relationship imposed on us by Vulcan tradition, so long as we do not allow it to interfere in the performance of our duties.
Both Commander Tucker and I hope you will respect our desire to focus on our service to Starfleet and Enterprise, and, as I mentioned earlier, direct any additional questions or concerns you have to Captain Sanchez.

Thank you.

Trip watched his wife on the video monitor in his parents’ living room. She had managed to maintain a dry-as-dust tone of Vulcan disgust throughout – interrupted only by a particularly forceful glare as she demanded privacy for the Tucker family – and he just couldn’t stop grinning.

The room on the monitor erupted in questions that T’Pol ignored as she glided away from the podium. Trip could see Jon and Malcolm against the far wall, smiling their approval as she joined them.

Trip’s grin widened. “That’s why they wouldn’t let me go to the press conference. Jon said I was sure to give it away by smiling too much.”

“Everyone’s going to figure out that this is just a big crock,” his dad said. “Especially if you keep grinning like that once you’re back on board. So what’d they do, set you up in special ‘technically married’ quarters so as not to offend Vulcan tradition?”

Trip shook his head. “I wish. No, we’re really going to have to be careful. Officially, there’s not going to be anything going on at all.”

“We can’t be letting Vulcan tradition down now, can we?” Trip said, with a happy sigh. “Though I’m glad to say T’Pol also makes accommodations for her very human husband now and again.”

His mother and father exchanged raised eyebrows. “I think we don’t want to know,” his mother said.

Trip smiled. He could feel a warm connection to T’Pol even as he sat here hundreds of kilometers away. They had already cleared a four square meter area in the living room for her to beam into later. “Yeah, Dad. I think, finally, I’m all set.”