Vulcan Mothers and Mother's Day By Asso Rating: PG 13 (for some alluding sentences) Genre: The sweetest romance (by now you know me!) Disclaimer: Enterprise is owned by Paramount, not me. No infringement intended, no profit made. Spoilers: It’s my own. Are you capable of finding the right spoiler? Summary: Waiting (for what?) is very sweet. Author's note: This is an homage to T’Sara and Enterprikayak, and all women who are giving their mates and themselves the joy of a baby. And for all women, because they exist and make life worth being lived. I picked up many suggestions from what I found on Triaxiansilk’s Board. The words in italic between (*___*) represent the thoughts (Oh, but… it’s strange, isn’t it?) The greatest thanks to Linda and justTrip’n who edited my story, once more. Advice: You can read this story without knowledge of my previous fics, but (believe me) it’s better if you read them. Vulcan Mothers and Mother's Day. The reddish light of the Vulcan sun was deadening, and the intense sultriness of the day and the evening's coolness was beginning to be felt. Soon the coolness would veer into the cold of the Vulcan night, but for now, the weather was sweet, almost un-Vulcan-like. An amused smile, unequivocally Human-like, shaded T’Pol’s lips, as she realized that she had thought about her world using the cliché of her T’hai’la. But then, long ago she had ceased fighting against his contagious way of thinking. And her smile broadened at the sudden thought of how amused her Trip would have been by that. T’Pol regained control of her behaviour with an effort. The depth of her Vulcan soul was suggesting she perform her meditation practices with more concentration. (*All right. Enough now. Focus. Before the cold becomes more intense, making my meditation difficult. *) “The best heater that exists, right, Hon?” Inexorably it came to her mind, the teasing and sweet words with which her T’hai’la had spoken to her…. while he was showing her how it was possible to cope with the cold… in a natural way. Immediately a well-known warmth began to run through her body and her heart, reviving the sensations it was capable of arousing inside her . . . the best remedy she had learned to experience — and to hold dear — against the cold. (*Oh well! Not tonight, No dice. *) And again the hint of an uncomplaining smile bent her lips upwards. (*And also useless to try to chase away his intrusive colloquialisms. *) This was the price to pay for the bond. (*But the game is worth the candle. *) Yet again. T’Pol shook lightly her head, and sighed softly. It seemed that ages had passed since the time when fear and the shame caused by the powerful emotions that Trip was capable of stirring in her, would hindered her from relishing fully the delight of their love. (*Stupid fear. Stupid shame. *) T’pol slowly closed her eyes, while grievous sensations of passed sorrow swept through her mind, still loaded with pain. (*Stupid, meaningless sorrow. Stupid me. *) How had she been able to believe that her T’hai’la couldn't be capable of understanding her mistakes? Her weakness? How had she been able to feel ashamed of coming clean to him? Even worse, how had she been able to feel ashamed of being in love? Of being in love with a Human? With THAT Human. With him. (*Stupid, stupid me. *) So, her blind stubbornness — her fear — had stopped her from savouring the bliss that Trip’s presence in her life was capable of giving her. For such a long a time, too long a time. (*Stupid, stupid, stupid me, who refused to accept the truth for all that time, rolling in my grief, denying that only he can supply me the equilibrium I need. All along. Not only from the time of my addiction. *) The simple awareness that her T’hai’la was there, with her, sleeping in their bed, behind her shoulders, waiting for her to join him, it was filling her Katra with pure joy. (*But how have I been able to deny myself all this? How have I been able to be so… so stupid? Hurting him so many times… *) The thought of the pain Trip had suffered by her behaviour struck T’pol with such a force that she had to hold her breath. She felt compelled to see her T’hai’la with her own eyes; the sound of his slight snoring assured her that he was there, near her. She got up swiftly and turned around, to watch her mate resting peacefully on their queen-size bed. So quiet, so pacific, so reassuring . . . She felt deliciously warm inside. She felt . . . serene. Serene. (*You will stay with me forever, T’hai’la, right? I won’t let you go away. Nevermore! I won’t make the same mistakes I made in the past. Never again! And there will be nothing to keep you distant from me. Never again! No war. No spying mission. Never again! Never again! *) Suddenly T’Pol realized she was getting decidedly emotional. She shook herself. What was happening to her? She was undoubtedly a different person than in the past. But was that enough to compel her to behave in this way? Surely, her Vulcan certitudes were no longer so firm, inevitably, after all that had happened since she had first boarded Enterprise. In a flash, the images and the memories of all those years went through her mind. And the sensations. The first meeting with the Captain and . . . with the man who would have become her man. His proffered hand, with a gesture defiant and challenging, with that behaviour typical of him, so irritating and so . . . intriguing, ever since those first moments. Her inner unavowable turmoil, smelling his scent and perceiving . . . his presence. Her solitude among an crew entirely Human—except for one cheerful Denobulan, with ways so different from a Vulcan—without a member of her race with whom she could have shared thoughts or impressions. Her… discomfort. Then the … solace of a relationship with Trip, through bickering and arguing, in a constant match, until little by little that relationship had became companionship, and then … camaraderie, and then … friendship, and then … The Expanse. The neuropressure sessions ... Their first night of love. Her shame and her uneasiness, the morning after, which had driven her to talk in that odious way. Hurting him. The first time. And his perseverance. And all the other nights of love which had followed. The desperation of losing him, at her wedding with Koss. Hurting him. The second time. And his perseverance, even if he always had respected her new marital state. His perseverance in going on to love her, against fate, and against … her. Like when she had lost her mother. Her stupid refusal of his solace. Her stupid attempt to back away from him, even after Koss had freed her. Because of fear. Always because of fear. Her constant … stupid … fear. Hurting him. Once more. And, once more, his perseverance. His perseverance in pursuing her. His… even unconscious… perseverance, also in his pain because of her refusal. Until . . . Until that kiss, in the corridor, after they had defeated those ignominious Orion bitches. T’Pol felt as she was reliving the sense of release that had pervaded her then, sensing again his mouth on her mouth, his body against hers. And yet again, finally, renewed nights and renewed … days … of love. Yet again his hands on her body. Yet again his lips on her lips. Yet again his mouth on her breasts. His tongue on her skin. Him inside her. Yet again that marvellous sensation of completeness that his existence in her life was capable of giving her. Then … Elizabeth! T’Pol gasped at the atrociously painful thought of their daughter. The daughter whom Destiny had wanted to take away before they could even have time to love her fully. The daughter who had given her the strength to open herself totally to Trip, to admit at last what he was for her. Her T’hai’la! Without shame! Without fear! Her T’hai’la. T’Pol gazed at the sleeping form of her beloved. (*My T’hai’la! My chosen one! My only… love! *) What a long, difficult road, for admitting this mere truth. And what a lot of suffering yet on that road. T’Pol stared still at her mate, a strange knot in her throat, while the waves of memories didn’t want to stop. (*What a lot of suffering, yet! *) Suddenly she was seized. Eyes wide open, she was seeing again the devastated body of her Ashayam, when death had tried to split her from him.* At the hand of those ... those … those DAMNED Terraprimers! Just when she had finally fully accepted being what she was! Inside, T'Pol felt the deadly desperation of that atrocious day, and her breath became harsh and erratic. She swallowed hard, trying to hold back tears. (*What is happening to me? Is it possible that I want to cry? And then, why? Everything is all right, now! All is going well! My T’hai’la is here, with me! He defeated death and destiny! For me! *) * T’Pol tried to calm down, but the images and the memories continued to throng her mind. The astounding marvel of their honeymoon. ** The heartbreaking sadness of being severed from her mate because of his insipid spying mission in the Romulan Empire. The inexpressible bliss of their reunion, when finally he had been able to see the children he had given her. *** T’Pol winced briskly. (*The children! *) Suddenly she had understood. She had understood the reason for her strange mood. She turned around slightly, positioning herself in profile in front of the mirror, which was facing the bed. She tilted her head a little bit, looking aslant at the mirror. Then she opened her robe, letting it slid from her shoulders on the floor, and watched intensely her silhouette… her abdoment… observing the puffiness that was starting to be evident. She knew she was shapely and beautiful. How many times her T’hai’la had told her. How many times he made her feel it. (*Will he find me alluring, yet? *) T’Pol blushed slightly at this thought, so distant from the proper Vulcan way. The bond between mates wasn’t based on physical attraction; this was not the fulcrum of the liaison. But nevertheless … (*Will he find me alluring, yet? *) This time … this time, he would stay with her – T’pol sighed heavily in relief – waiting together for the birth of their baby… this time he would get to see her transform. (*Will he find me alluring, yet? *) “What the hell? You try’n to make me explode?” T’pol startled at the sudden voice of her mate, and rapidly turned her head toward the bed, seeing him sprawled out on it, his hands behind his head, the bedsheets pulled up to his bare torso, a mischievous smile on his face and an evil glint in his eyes, which were looking at her with purpose, delciously scanning her body. She felt the blood kindle her cheeks, realizing Trip had been observing her for some time, and was watching her while she was acting so, staring studiously at the mirrored image of her naked body. She spoke hurriedly, a frank note of abashment and of annoyance in her voice. “You…you were sleeping!” The grin on Trip’s face became almost hellish. “Luckily I woke up!” He chuckled softly. "Something in my mind was humming that there was a spectacle I wouldn't want to miss." T’Pol crossed her left arm over her breasts, and with her right hand, reached towards her sex, trying to cover herself, clearly ill at ease. Seeing her performing this gesture, an image flashed through Trip’s mind. (*Botticelli's Venus, with short hair! No, the Venus is not this beautiful! *) But immediately after, Trip blinked in surprise, sensing that something was wrong. T’Pol had never displayed shame in showing her body to him, from that first marvelous night. And she didn’t seem annoyed by his words, which would be his next guess . . . Rather she seemed … worried. He observed her slowly closing her eyes, opening them right after, to look at her abdomen in the mirror. Trip lifted himself slightly on his elbows. He spoke with a low voice. “It seems you can begin to see something.” T’Pol nodded, her left arm still to her bosom, and her right hand to her sex. Her look fixed on the mirror. “You … you … don’t like that?” Trip had uttered this with difficulty, and with a little bit of fear, too. T’Pol turned her head abruptly toward him. In her eyes was something that almost forced Trip to leap out from the bed, to keep her tightly in his arms. The look of a frightened child. He tried to be quiet, which was a thing very hard for him. “Ahem… so?” T’Pol swallowed, closing her eyes again. Eyes shut, she spoke softly. “I … like it.” Trip spoke again, still trying to be phlegmatic. “But?” Again T’Pol swallowed, keeping her eyes closed. Trip spoke again. “Hon… what is happening?” T’Pol opened her eyes, the same look on her face, and stared intensely at him. “Hon…” Finally, she spoke, with faint voice. “You… you will enjoy me, won’t you? In any case?” “Wha… WHAT?” “I said …” “I understood your words, but I don’t understand their meaning.” T’Pol voice rose again, and Trip was able to hear a slight trembling in it. “I mean… I…” “Yes?” “ I… “ T’Pol’s eyes shut once more. Her voice was the slightest murmur in the world. “I … am starting to change already. Soon I … will be some other shape. Maybe … maybe … you …” Trp’s eyes snapped wide open in understanding, as his body snapped suddenly to sit up on the bed. “Whawhawhawhawhat?” His voice was almost angry, and T’Pol took a step backward, blinking in surprise and apprehension. “But … what the hell … you … I …” Trip was jabbering almost with rage, like always happened when his emotions were overwhelming him. In other words, as often happened in interactions with T’Pol. Then, he understood what he should do. Living with T’Pol was difficult. And splendid! His features softened. He smiled sweetly, and spoke again softly, moving so as to make room for her on his right side, patting the bed with his right hand. “Come here, sweety. Come here.” T’Pol felt an unspeakable warmth inside her, clearly perceiving the waves of his adamantine love flowing from him to submerge her utterly. She lowered her hands, showing herself to him in all her radiant beauty, and moved through the room, to reach their bed … and his arms. And now, seated on the bed beside him, enfolded nude in his hug, heated by the glow of his body, she was staying motionless, eyes shut, drinking blissfully the amorous words he was murmuring in her ears. “How could you think that? How can you think you might ever be less beautiful and attractive to me? You’ve chained my soul and my heart, T’Pol! Forever! Maybe you can’t appreciate my words because of your Vulcan logic. But I’m your Human mate, Hon. I don’t know other words!” (*Do I wish to cry? Yes! And not only because of my condition! *) This thought clouded T’Pol’s mind, while she was basking in Trip’s warmth. And the situation became even worse, as Trip continued. “Do you realize how much more beautiful you will be, when your belly is plump and round, filled with the fruit of our love, and your eyes, already so wonderful, shine with that ineffable, moist, luminous look that women have when they are waiting to give birth to a baby? Do you realize that?” And this time there was no help for it. T’Pol did burst into tears, without restraint, sobbing loud in Trip’s arms. Trip felt terrified. He had already seen T’Pol crying, but never in this way, and then … why? This was a bad, bad, bad thing for T’Pol. She was horribly hurting herself! Trip didn’t know what to do with a weeping Vulcan female, not even when that female was his T’Pol. So he did what Human males in love do with their sweethearts, when they are in need of solace. He tightened his embrace, and began to cover T’Pol’s face with small and soft kisses, murmuring in her ears sweet words of love. “Please, don’t cry, sweety! Please! Stop your crying! I’m here, with you, and I don’t want to see you sobbing! It’s not good for you! If I said or did something hurtful, forgive me, Hon, I beg you! But don’t cry so, Darling! Stop, please!” And so, T’Pol started to weep in buckets. Now Trip was really appalled. He covered T’Pol with the bedsheet, and held her tightly to himself, wondering what was happening and what he should do. (*What the hell?!? *) And then, suddenly, the picture came to his mind of T’Pol while she was looking at her image in the mirror, observing how her tummy was growing. (*Darn it! It seems that…*) He kept on talking aloud and mildly, holding T’Pol’s head to his shoulder firmly and softly, and smiling sweetly. “So, it seems like Vulcan women in your state are not so much different from human women!” A feeble voice replied to him from amongst the sobs. “Apparently… it’s so.” Trip couldn’t help but laugh loudly. Then a thought suddenly occurred to him. “But... this isn’t the first time you… Well! You… Namely… I want to say… Oh! In short! When you… when you… do you… do you… ” The most beautiful face of a woman in tears rose from his arms, to stare at his eyes with a look that almost made Trip’s heart break. T’Pol voice was nearly a sigh. “I cried. And I was alone. ” *** Trip held his breath, feeling a harrowing knot in his heart. He buried T’Pol’s head on his chest, and began to cradle her sweetly, dandling her tenderly, and trying to hold back his tears. The words he said with firm voice wiped away all T’Pol’s tears. “Never again, my heart! Never again!” Then, he tried to break the tense atmosphere, sensing it was time to use his usual teasing mood. He smiled to himself. (*That mood so annoying to her, and so enjoyed by her…Even if she never will admit it. Damn stubborn Vulcan female! *) “It’s too cold! That’s bad for you.” He lifted her chin with his forefinger, so that she could see his eyes, and smiled mischievously at her, winking. “We better protect oursleves from the cold, somehow.” He was gratified in seeing a hint of a smile appear unequivocally on her lips. He knew that this time her smile was a good thing. T’Pol felt the well-known pleasure that always was caressing her soul when he was using that teasing tone. (*That tone so annoying to me, and so enjoyed by me…Even if I never will admit it with this… damn stubborn Human male! *) Trip drew down T’Pol atop him, and then turned to place her beside him, on her usual side of their bed. T’Pol flexed her legs, and lifted the bedsheet, to slide swiftly under it, and then … Then she saw something… something that had been hidden beneath the sheet, until that moment. It was a small package, wrapped with a multicoloured paper, fastened with a red ribbon well tied on the top. T’Pol cast a sidelong glance at Trip’s face, who was waiting in anticipation, a teasing – and amorous – smile on his mouth. Her eyes went back to the package. She moved her hand to take it. She observed it attentively. A card lay across the top. T'Pol picked it up and read the caption written on. Happy Mother’s Day She looked up at Trip’s face, across which was broadening in an unlimited grin. She tried to speak very Vulcan. “Mother’s Day?” “Yes. Don’t you know it?” “It’s a Human celebration . . .” Trip snorted. “Now don’t get into your Vulcan teacher mode! Just tell me if you appreciate this gift!” “Mother’s Day is not a Vulcan custom, so I think …” “Yeah! Exactly like it’s not a Vulcan custom to drink wine, right, Hon?” T’Pol couldn’t help but blush once more, knowing well what her T’hai’la was alluding to, the sensations sparkling in her mind of that time - distant by now - when she had yielded to Trip’s enticements for the first time … following her hidden desires.**** The first trap that her Ashayam had set for her in a long series of traps. And she had fallen into all those traps. Invariably. (*Luckily! *) T’Pol raised her eyebrow, trying to regain her habitual Vulcan posture with that gesture. (*A gesture so annoying to him, and so enjoyed by him…Even if he never would admit it. Damn stubborn Human male! *) The outcome was a frank burst of laughter from Trip, which caused a second eyebrow to join the first. And Trip’s laughter became uncontainable. “Oh, please AH AH AH please OH OH OH please, darling AH AH AH - Trip tried to speak amid the laughter – Please forgive me! – T’Pol’s stunned expression was forcing Trip to guffaw even more – Please! But your gesture OH OH OH…” (*This gesture so annoying to me, and so enjoyed by me…Even if I never will admit it with this… damn stubborn Vulcan female! *) Finally he managed to calm down. He took T’pol’s face between his hands, drawing her head toward his, so that their foreheads were touching each other, and then he began to talk to her with the sweetest voice in the universe. “Sweety, please forgive me! You know how I’m made. You – he grinned once more – You know it very well.” He repressed the wish to laugh yet again, seeing his mild petite Vulcan sweetheart raising her eyebrow one more time. Then he continued. “Don’t you want to see what’s in that package?” T’Pol nodded, preferring not speak. Then, while Trip was embracing her, she snuggled up to him, huddling up her legs beneath the bedsheet, and she directed her attention to her gift. She untied the knot, which was fastened with the ribbon and carefully unwrapped the small package. Between her hands appeared a tiny doll, made with wood, in the guise of a smiling woman, roundish and chubby, without hands, which were only painted on. The doll was coniform, and it was possible to place it on its base so that it would stand upright. T’Pol watched Trip, raising once more her eyebrow, with a puzzled look. Trip chuckled softly. “So?” “Very pretty, I must admit, but …” “But?” “What is the connection between this doll and Mother’s Day?” “Do you think a connection is necessary?” T’Pol’s expression became puzzled even more, not understanding what was hidden under the gently mocking tone of her impossible T’hai’la. “Logic requires …” “Ah sure! Logic!” Her delicious eyebrow lifted a little bit more, provoking another chortle from Trip. He squeezed her shoulder tenderly, and spoke in a low voice. “Maybe – he mimicked her professorial tone – further investigations are required!” By a hair T’Pol avoided a snort. Her T’hai’la was capable of being very irritating sometimes. (*Sometimes? *) T’Pol suppressed this illogical thought and turned her attention again to the doll. Trip’s voice rose yet again. “Do you know what a Matryoshka doll is?” Again T’Pol eyebrow got raised, this time with a very curious look in her eyes. Trip went on. “A Matryoshka doll is a Russian doll. It is a set of dolls of decreasing sizes placed one inside another. The greatest doll … the doll that one sees first … is called … mother.” T'Pol started to understand, and – an illogical twist of pleasure in her heart – she recognized a subtle line on the doll. A line that was indicating a cleavage. She twirled the doll on that cleavage and unscrewed the doll in two parts. Inside there was a smaller doll. A very tiny baby. The son. Her T’hai’la’s voice kept on explaining, with a tender tone, while his hand was gently stroking her shoulder. “Usually the number of nested figures is five or more, but – his tone became more tender, if possible – this is a little bit peculiar. I thought it was perfect for… for your Mother’s Day. – His following words had been precipitous – Obviously if you want to accept this token of our … Human Celebration!” T’Pol was turning that small doll over and over again – that little baby - in her hands, staring poignantly at it. Then, she cast up her eyes at Trip, and suddenly threw her arms around his neck, very careful to not drop the two parts of the doll, the mom in her left hand, and the son in the right. And while her lips was reaching Trip’s mouth, a quick thought hovered in her mind. (*So, I fell in your trap, once again! *) The kiss was fond, sweet and… liberating. T’Pol felt any tension of the night flow away, rolling down from her soul and her mind. “So, – Trip’s voice was gently bantering in her mouth, at the end of their kiss – Can I take this as a yes?” Without detaching her lips from his, T’Pol lifted her eyebrow, her eyes fixed on his. And Trip chuckled quietly on her mouth, a dazzling glint in his eyes, before he kissed her mildly yet again. Finally, they stayed cheek to cheek, hugging each other, the two halves of the doll still held in T’Pol’s hands. Eyes closed, she heard her Ashayam murmur in her ear. “Don’t you think it’s time we really do protect ourselves from the cold?” T’Pol nodded against him, and slowly got loose from his embrace. But she didn’t slide under the bedsheet near him. With a puzzled look, Trip saw her get up and go through the room towards the bedroom dresser, naked, without bothering to pick up her robe, utterly forgetful of her previous shame. When she reached the dresser, she turned her head and looked at Trip. Then, she directed her eyes to the doll, and, very carefully, she put together the two tiny parts of the Matryoshka. This done, she spoke quietly to Her T’hai’la, without turning her head. “We will part them…at the right time.” The glad smile that appeared on Trip’s face at T’Pol’s words, gave away to an intent expression, as he watched what she did soon after. With purpose, and careful that Trip had a good view, T’Pol did put the doll down on the dresser. Next to that little transparent sphere, which was the first gift that Trip had given her.**** Next to the IDIC locket. Next to the symbol of their awakeneing love, when neither she nor he knew what would happen afterwards. And next to the symbol of their union in their diversities, a union cemented by their shared sorrow and by their shared strength. She placed delicately on the dresser the last gift of her Ashayam, near the other two objects. As a symbol of the life which was born and would be born from their love. Finally, she turned around towards Trip, gazing steadily at his eyes. Naked to him, in her body… and her spirit. Trip remained mute and serious, staring at her, perfectly aware, in their bond, of the whole meaning of her act. He nodded, solemnly, and then gestured broadly with his left arm, to invite her to join him – finally – in their bed. A genuine and radiant smile illuminated T’Pol’s beautiful face. It was the smile that she showed only to her mate. When her Vulcan logic was unable to control the overflowing love that was filling her heart. She walked with her innate grace towards her husband, whose look was following her with pure adoration. She stopped at the side of their bed, her eyes fixed on those of her Ashayam, still smiling, and slowly lowered herself to get in their bed, under the bedsheet, near him, in his arms. Safe from cold … and from any other thing. T’Pol took her usual position in snuggling with her T’hai’la before they fell asleep, with her back turned towards her husband, her legs flexed, her head resting on his left shoulder and his left arm, her left hand on his left hand, which was placed possessively on her right breast, her right hand on his right forearm, while his body was curled as a spoon behind her. And his right hand was placed between her thighs, which squeezed his hand possessively. T’Pol took a deep breath. She knew that that hand would change its position, eventually. She knew that probably… surely… later… they would make love. In the middle of the night … Or in the morning after… (*Yes, tomorrow morning! It’s so sweet, when the first lights of the dawn lighten the room! *) But for now… Her thoughts went to her Mother’s Day gift, lying on the dresser. For now… all she wished was to fall asleep. Enfolded in the arms of… the greatest gift that destiny wanted to give her. And slowly, little by little, cradled by the soft breath of her Ashayam, T’Pol fell into sleep. The End (Please, go to sleep. Trip and T’Pol mustn't be troubled! ) *This is a reference to my story: “Destiny”. ** This a reference to my series: “Honeymoon” . *** This is a reference to my story: “Ulysses”. **** This is a reference to my story: “Christmas Eve”.

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