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“Reconciliation” Part IV Rating: NC-17 Author's note: Vulcan words and phrases from Vulcan Language Dictionary. Special thanks to Linda for being my patient beta. PART IV ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^ Trip paced anxiously in his small cabin, waiting for T'Pol's arrival. It was the second day into their two week journey to Vulcan, and he was itching to have a chance to do more than simply bore her with his idle small talk in the transport's communal passenger area. At first the plan had simply been to not risk seeing each other like this, as her reputation definitely didn't need an illicit affair with a human in addition to all the other things her people seemed to have against her. The first day had been smooth sailing, but by the second day, well, temptation was just proving to be too much. After all, when they got to Vulcan it just wouldn't be proper. Add the travel time to that, and well… that was just way too long to wait. His mind was buzzing with everything that was happening. He'd made some real progress with T'Pol, got her to open up to him, got her talking to her mother again… Deep down, Trip was a little sad that T'Pol had never brought him up to her mother, but he understood. T'Pol was only now getting back to speaking terms with her mother, so mentioning him might not be the best thing to keep that going. How would she even broach a topic like that? "Oh, by the way, Mom, I'm involved with this human engineer on my ship," Trip sarcastically imagined T'Pol saying. Yeah, that would go over real well… Plus, there was that somewhat prudish, Victorian attitude most Vulcans had about sex, not to mention a certain bigotry about humans in general. So he could live with having to pretend he and T'Pol were "just colleagues" and nothing more for the next few weeks. He was stoked just to be going to Vulcan. He'd done a lot of reading on it and had a mental list of all the places he wanted to see while he was there, which he hoped would be a shared experience with T'Pol so she could share more of her culture with him. Getting a chance to see where she grew up would be the icing on the cake. He just hoped that the heat and the gravity wouldn't get to him while he was there. Remembering the heightened sense of smell Vulcan women possessed, somehow he doubted he'd make a very good first impression with T'Pol's mom if he was all sweaty and smelly from the heat. In the meantime, this was the deep breath before the plunge, their last chance before getting to Vulcan to be with each other. Well, maybe not their last chance, but these little meetings were sure to be few and far between. They had to be real careful about this, because while Vulcans claimed to value privacy so much, some of them had a way of sticking their noses where they didn't belong. That's why T'Pol was the one doing all the sneaking around. Even if their rooms were right next to each other, he just didn't trust himself, not with his luck. The door slid open, and suddenly she was there. He heard the muted "beep" of T'Pol locking the door behind her before she approached him. Looking at her in the dimmed light, he couldn't help but notice the stark change in her appearance. He'd noticed her growing steadily thinner since they'd gotten back to Earth, losing what little body fat she'd had to begin with. She'd blamed it on her recovery from her recent addiction, but it still concerned him. He stood up from his small bunk to greet her, taking her small frame in his arms even as their lips met. Their embrace turned into blind groping as they each sought to explore what was already well known to them. Their tongues seemed to fight each other in their frenzied kiss, T'Pol's fiery taste driving Trip wild. His heart pounded harder inside his chest, his skin tingling at the feel over her body through the layers of clothing that separated them. He broke the kiss and looked down at her, into the enigmatic eyes that seemed to smile at him even if her lips couldn't. "I'm glad you made it," Trip whispered to her, then teased her ear with his tongue, giving the back edge of it a lick all the way to the tip. She gave him a surprised gasp. "That much is evident," she replied in her own hushed tone, and added, "one day I must teach you how a Vulcan displays affection, more ... discreetly." He kept after her sensitive ears, giving them a playful tug between breathing back, "you mean… this… isn't… how… you… normally… do it?" T'Pol's hands pressed firmly on his chest, forcing his tantalizing mouth away from her ear. She looked at him with amusement in her sparkling eyes. "No, but I enjoy showing it to you in a way that you'll understand." It hadn't ever really occurred to him before that Vulcans would have different ways of showing each other they cared. He'd always assumed as prudish as they seemed to be that they just did it behind closed doors. It was just another reminder of how alien the stunning woman in his arms really was. "Show me," he murmured. He tried to bend down to kiss her again, but her amazingly strong arms held him at bay. "Later, perhaps…" Trip was flabbergasted, especially at the predatory look she gave him. Before he could say anything or react, she pushed him onto his bed. Trip leaned back against the wall, never taking his eyes off of T'Pol. She turned her back to him, but watched him over her shoulder as she bent over, slowly pulling her pants down and revealing herself to him. She wasn't wearing any underwear. His hand found its way under the loose elastic band of his sweatpants. He wasn't wearing any underwear either. He took himself into his hand, slowly stroking it as he watched T'Pol step out of her crumpled pants. She turned to face him, her eyes snapping to the front of his pants. She inhaled deeply and watched him for a moment before ridding herself of her simple shoes, sliding them easily off of her feet. Trip let his eyes move up her slender legs, all the way up to the juncture where they met, which was frustratingly still covered, just barely by the bottom of her loose shirt. As if sensing his thoughts somehow, she pulled at the sides of her shirt. He never got tired of seeing her now familiar differences. His eyes hovered there for an instant, then followed the bottom of her shirt as it revealed her flushed skin, centimeter by centimeter. Her dark nipples stood out from her lush breasts, drawing his eyes to them. Tossing her shirt aside, she looked at him expectantly. Not needing anymore encouragement, Trip quickly pulled his shirt over his head. He threw it at her, using her distraction to stand back up. She threw his cotton t-shirt to the floor, and watched him step out of his pants. He circled around her, the two of them never breaking eye contact. He embraced her from behind, his hands quickly finding their way from her taut abdomen to the moist cleft between her toned thighs. She inhaled sharply at his touch, but pressed herself back into him harder. His mouth found the sensitive spot at the base of her neck, eagerly licking and suckling. He pressed into her bottom, her warm flesh seeming to grab at him, making him ache to be inside her. He urged her toward the bed, and bent her over it. His moistened fingers left her swollen vulva, making her sag beneath him with momentary disappointment. He straightened and looked down at her, enjoying how her upturned bottom looked. Her sex peeked up at him, looking full and inviting. He took his shaft into hand and guided it into the heat of her entrance. He slid himself through her slick folds, teasing her before gently sliding deep inside of her. He gripped her hips, pumping her from behind. They kept their mutual pleasure as silent as they could manage, afraid that even the heaviness of their breathing might give them away to notoriously sensitive hearing. He leaned forward, nuzzling the back of her neck, right where it met her shoulders. The warmth of her sheath pulled at him. It took all his effort not to make a sound. He distracted himself, letting his hands find her swaying breasts, to knead and fondle her burning flesh. They moved together in a quick, frantic tempo that seemed to keep time with his heartbeat. She must’ve been having as much trouble as he was keeping it together, because it didn’t take that long before she started to shudder beneath him, her muscles pulling at him as she climaxed. She buried her face into the bed, all she could do to keep from crying out. It was more than he could take. His own muscles tightened as he surged forward, exploding inside of her. He pressed his face into her shoulder, his mouth silently expressing what he felt. They rocked together as they came down from their mutual peak. He kissed her just under the ear, and pulled her up with him as he straightened. She turned to face him, meeting his mouth in a hungry kiss. Finished, Trip took in a deep breath and let it out, reluctant to let T'Pol out of his arms. She tilted her head forward, resting it on his chest, evidently just as reluctant to leave. "I wish we could just stay together tonight," he quietly told her. She let out a soft groan in agreement, but as always, her logical side won out. "It would be unwise to do so." "I know," he admitted. "Doesn't mean I have to like it though." "There will be other times," she reassured him. It took all his strength, but he finally let her go. With his hands on her shoulders, he separated them. He took one last longing look into her eyes, then stepped to the side, freeing her way to the door. She put a caressing hand on his chest, but soon that too was gone, both of them redressing themselves as quickly as they could manage. T'Pol put her ear close to the door, presumably listening for anyone in the corridor outside. Trip watched in silence as she unlocked the door and opened it. With one last look at him, she was gone as quickly as she'd arrived. Trip laid back on the sorry excuse that he had for a bed, suddenly feeling very cold and alone. Pulling the covers over him, he hoped that he could get some sleep. * * * * * * * * * * T'Pol waited patiently for Trip to join her in the transport's modest mess hall. She took a sip from her cup, an herbal tea she hadn't had since she was last among her people. It was not as pleasing as chamomile, but it was an adequate substitute. She could smell him before she saw him. As pleasing as she found Trip's scent now, it was still fascinating to remember that during her first year on Enterprise she would have found it as displeasing as the other Vulcans in the room did now. Looking up from her tea, she could see him smiling at her as he neared the table she was sitting at. As she had instructed him on the first day of their journey, he waited until he was very near to her before speaking in a hushed tone. "Mornin', T'Pol." "Good morning, Commander." Trip sat down across the small table from her. She couldn't help but notice a hint of impropriety in his eyes as he asked her, "so, sleep well last night?" T'Pol did her best to keep any of her amusement at Trip's obvious innuendo. From the human's reaction, she wasn't entirely successful, but then it was hard to be when he was around her. "I rested adequately. It was certainly a case of quality over quantity." Trip simply rolled his eyes and quipped, "that's right, you know us weakling humans like to sleep for half the day…" T'Pol said nothing further, and took another sip of her tea. She looked at him as warmly as she dared in such a public setting. Trip rolled his tongue along the inside of his cheek and returned her gaze. At times like this, simply looking intently into his eyes could be a sufficient substitute for actual physical contact with him. Actually, studying the movements of his eyes, the changes in diameter of his pupils, and the intense blue color of his irises had a special draw by itself. Even more intriguing was the way he studied her eyes right back. "The windows to the soul," she'd heard him describe them. Though initially she'd found this expression unusual and illogically human, as she'd gained experience with humans, she found the term to be accurate. She could see kindness and affection in Trip's eyes. She could only hope that he found something equally pleasing within her. "So," Trip suddenly spoke, his voice sounding much louder than it was. "Any suggestions on a decent brunch?" T'Pol used her cup to hide some of her annoyance. Trip had managed to ruin a perfectly good moment. While it was illogical to expect them to spend the rest of the day simply gazing into each other's eyes, it had still been far too brief. "You may find the haiskur more palatable than the plomeek," she replied after a moment. Trip was decidedly less than enthusiastic. Like most humans, he found Vulcan food too bland for his tastes. Unfortunately for him, the simple vegetable that formed the basis of the plomeek soup was representative of what Vulcan food had to offer – sustenance and nutrition, and little else. "I guess I can give it a try," Trip remarked as he stood up from the table. "Can't be much worse than plomeek soup." She didn't even watch him go to the food counter; she was still illogically irritated with him. She concentrated on pushing that irritation back, so she would be in a more pleasant mood upon his return. Which was somewhat more quickly than she had estimated. Fortunately the surprise she felt as he unceremoniously set his plate of chopped root on the table made her remaining irritation quickly evaporate. T'Pol watched Trip with some amusement as he eyed his new meal. He speared a slice of the haiskur and brought it up to his mouth. He chewed it slowly at first, likely assessing the flavor of the Vulcan root. "Huh," he muttered after swallowing his first mouthful. She raised an inquisitive eyebrow at him. "Sorta reminds me of a radish," he remarked. "Not exactly a favorite of mine, but it does I guess." "Think I'll stick to soup for the rest of the trip though," he decided, forking yet another portion of his meal. "Though plomeek does contain all the necessary nutrients your body requires, I would advise that you maintain a certain variety in your diet," she told him matter-of-factly. "I'll keep that in mind," came his wry retort. Apparently, it was then that he noticed the empty table in front of her. "You already eat?" "Yes," she replied. "I finished my meal three hours and thirty-four minutes before your arrival." T'Pol noted the brief pause in his chewing before he remarked, "Guess I could try goin' to bed a bit early tonight so I can get up with you tomorrow mornin'." He leaned slightly closer to her and lowered his voice further as he added, "maybe I could even try meditatin' with you." She cocked a sarcastic eyebrow at him. "You certainly would benefit from learning to focus your mind." "Mmmm… hmmmm…" he replied in feigned insult. It was unusually satisfying to see the look of annoyance on his face knowing that she was responsible for it. "Movin' on…," he began, effectively changing the subject. "I wanted to ask you about what all I'll need to do when we get to Vulcan." "Such as?" "Well there's that hand greetin' I've seen Vulcans give each other when they meet," Trip elaborated, and formed his left hand into the traditional Vulcan salute. "The ta'al," T'Pol informed him. "Does it matter which hand I use?" Trip asked her, genuinely curious. "No, the ta'al is equally meaningful when given from either hand. It is simply a matter of preference." "What about that 'live long and prosper' sayin'? Do I need to say that when I give the ta'al". T'Pol couldn't help but be mildly surprised at how alien the Vulcan word sounded to her when pronounced in the engineer's unique accent. "It can be given as a greeting, but is used more often as a farewell." "Oh, kinda like sayin' 'aloha' then," Trip said with a smile at the association he'd made. T'Pol raised a confused eyebrow at the unusual term, and looked at Trip for clarification. "Nevermind," he said, evidently a little embarrassed. "We have eleven-point-six days remaining before we arrive on Vulcan," she told him. "There is an abundance of time in which to discuss this information." "I just want to be prepared, I guess," he admitted. "A logical, if somewhat premature goal." He gave her a shy smile "I'm also lookin' forward to learning as much as I can about Vulcan culture." No matter how long she knew him, T'Pol doubted she would ever be able to fully understand Charles Tucker the Third. Somehow, she found that pleasing. * * * * * * * * * * Trip did his best not to show how uncomfortable he really felt. For the entire journey, he'd been fooling himself into believing that the heat, thin air, and gravity of Vulcan had been exaggerated, but he now knew otherwise. Just the walk up to T'Pol's house had been very exhausting. He was definitely glad when T'Pol opened the door to a kind of outdoor foyer that contained a small garden. As he looked around he couldn't help but be taken in by the beauty of it all. The small talk he was making with her almost seemed to fade into the background. "So, this is where you grew up?" he commented more to himself than to her. "Meaning?" T'Pol inquired. Trip looked at her and could see that she thought he might be teasing her. Might as well not disappoint her then… "Well," he replied, trying to play innocent for as long as he could. "It's beautiful." "Vulcans appreciate beauty," she stated flatly with one of the best expressions he'd coaxed out of her yet. Trip couldn't help but smirk at that. "Well I had no doubt about that," he said sarcastically as he circled behind her. "You always were a snazzy dresser." He couldn't help but think of the tight "uniforms" she usually wore and how they accentuated her form. Even the more casual clothing she wore now did a pretty good job of that. Yup, Malcolm was right, he thought wryly to himself as he eyed her firm backside. She sure does have an awfully nice bum. He was completely shameless about checking her out, and he couldn't help but enjoy the perturbed way she reacted to it. She spun around, dropping her bag down and clasping her hands behind her to obscure his view of her perfectly formed posterior even as she spun around to face him. She gave him a haughty look, but he could tell that she wasn't really that upset with him. "Commander Tucker," she started in on him, emphasizing her use of his rank and last name. Trip prepared himself for a lecture, but her words suddenly trailed off as she looked at something behind him. Quickly snapping his head around to see what had drawn T'Pol's attention, Trip found himself looking at a very striking Vulcan woman. His expression went completely blank and he was embarrassed to no end for being caught flirting up T'Pol in front of who he assumed to be her mother. Still, on top of wondering how much more of a bad first impression he could've made, he couldn't help but be amazed at the sight of this second Vulcan woman, who was gazing at him intently with eyes that were every bit as blue as his own. Wow! Guess that's where some of her good looks came from. Her hair was starting to grey and there were some wrinkles on her face, but she was still very much attractive. She only stood a little taller than T’Pol, but she carried herself with great authority. She was almost exactly as he had imagined her. She held her gaze until she had almost reached him and T'Pol, then quickly turned her attention to her daughter. "You didn't tell me you were bringing a guest," the older woman told T'Pol in an almost condescending manner. Trip couldn't help but get a sinking feeling in his stomach as he watched what played out in front of him. T'Pol was definitely surprised. Her words might have seemed very bland, but she clearly hadn't been expecting to see her mother home until after they'd had a chance to settle in for a while. Her mother's reply inspired little confidence that this initial meeting might somehow recover itself and go as smoothly as the engineer had hoped it would. T'Pol actually looked a little scared, even, when her mother did suddenly change her tone to tell her that it was "agreeable" to see her again. Not one to let himself get too intimidated, Trip was tired of feeling the odd man out and decided to do something about it. He ended up introducing himself of his own accord, much the same way he'd done when he first met T'Pol. "I'm Charles Tucker," he said hopefully, resisting the urge to extend his hand. "Pleased to meet you, ma'am." This drew the older Vulcan's gaze once again. Her jaw moved slightly, as if she was about to say something, but thought better of it. He exchanged a brief look with T'Pol and remembered the ta'al thing he'd talked with her about. As his bag was over his right shoulder, he raised his left hand and did his best to faithfully give T'Pol's mother the famous Vulcan salute. She actually seemed to be a little surprised and bemused at this, but she quickly returned it. Naturally, just to be consistent with the nose-dive his day seemed to have taken, the other woman quickly turned her attention back to her daughter and spoke to her in their native language, as if he wasn't even standing there. He hoped T'Pol wasn't being read the riot act, but it was a bit harder for him to tell what was going on, the strange language distracting his otherwise good feel for reading body language. What he saw didn't look good though. He was a little relieved when they were invited in, but not by much. He couldn't help but feel that things weren't boding well as he made his way back to the house's guest room. * * * * * * * * * * T'Pol made her way to the guest room to wake Trip. Her mother was already sounding the traditional morning gong, but she suspected that its muted resonance wouldn't be enough to rouse him. She knocked on the door and paused briefly. Hearing no answer after two-point-four seconds, she knocked again, and heard Trip's invitation to enter. She opened the door, and was greeted by the sight of Trip's bare chest as he groggily looked back at her. "Good morning," she told him as flatly as she could manage. Still, she couldn't help but enjoy his state of undress, even if she'd seen much more of him on more than one occasion. She had to admit that if the house had been empty, she would have been tempted to use a more invigorating manner in which to help him greet the new day. At the very least it might have improved his mood. "What time is it?" he griped. "Oh-four-hundred," she replied, matter-of-factly. She actually was somewhat disappointed that he had obviously not remembered the part of their discussion on the transport which should have prepared him for this. Still, this experience should prepare him for the rest of his stay. "You're kidding…" "We have to prepare the morning meal. As guests, it's expected of us." "Oh," he muttered, evidently remembering their earlier conversation on the matter. He slowly started to get up, at which point T'Pol decided this would be a good time to excuse herself. Before she left, she turned on the room's lights, just to ensure that Trip would indeed get out of bed. As she closed the door behind her, she felt a pang of disappointment at being unable to stay as he got dressed and readied himself for the day, but that would be inappropriate to do while they were staying with her mother. She decided that the most logical course of action would be to get the small kitchen ready in preparation for Trip's arrival. Her mother still out of sight, likely meditating in the pre-dawn darkness of the courtyard, T’Pol set about retrieving the food items she and Trip would need to prepare their morning meal. She was pleasantly surprised to find that there were kres’ru roots in the stasis unit. A favorite of hers since she was a child, she thought this might be an opportune time to reacquaint herself with their unique flavor. Putting on some food-handling gloves, she selected a number of them, as well as some gespar fruit out of the stasis unit and neatly arranged them on the counter next to the sink. It would not be a very elaborate meal, but Trip would probably appreciate that as he helped her to prepare it. She had just set aside a set of scrubbing mittens for Trip to use when she saw him enter the main area of the house. “I see you decided to join me, after all.” Trip gave her an annoyed glare. “I didn’t take that long to get up, did I?” She gave him a wry look and raised an eyebrow, which was the only answer he needed. His smirk told her that his mood was vastly improved since she woke him. He joined her at the counter and leaned heavily against it, his arms resting on its grey surface. “So…” he drawled. “How long was it?” T’Pol gave him a coy look as she put on her scrubbing mitts and turned on the water faucet. “Ten-point-eight minutes.” Trip gave her a smile and sauntered to the other side of the sink, taking up a position opposite T’Pol as she began to wash a kres’ru. The sink itself was a long, narrow basin, situated on the north edge of the counter, which would allow both of them to use it at once. T’Pol hoped that he would follow her example, but stopped and stared in disbelief when he began to handle a gespar with his bare hands. It took him a moment to realize that she’d stopped, and yet he still didn’t seem to realize his error. He stared at her in confusion. “What?” “You are touching our food with your bare hands.” He frowned, apparently mildly insulted by her statement. “I washed ‘em,” he protested. “Besides, I’ve seen you touch your food before.” “That was different. I was on Enterprise, and I was … experimenting.” Trip looked somewhat skeptical, so she added, “it wasn’t something I would normally do, nor is it customary for Vulcans to handle their food directly. It’s considered unsanitary and uncivilized.” Trip grunted and retorted, “I remember you makin’ a big deal out of it when you first came aboard. I guess now I know why.” He gave her an aloof expression and made a show of putting on the scrubbing mittens and went back to washing the gespar. She was probably going to hear about this again on their way back to Enterprise, but she had told him about Vulcan food preparation prior to their arrival here. “I don’t know why I’m actually doin’ this. It’s not like I care if I touch my own food, bein’ an ‘uncivilized’ human an’ all.” T’Pol noted the exaggeration of his accent and gave him the best withering glare that Vulcan discipline would allow. “Perhaps, but as ‘civilized’ Vulcans, my mother and I appreciate your adherence to our customs.” Trip quickly lost his discontented demeanor and softy chuckled at her taunt. “If getting’ up this early and makin’ breakfast with you is always this fun, I guess I can put up with a couple weeks of it.” His eyes seemed to glimmer as he smiled at her, reminding her again of why she tolerated him when his more frustrating traits made themselves known. * * * * * * * * * * Breakfast definitely didn’t go as well as he’d hoped. But then, ever since he’d gotten to Vulcan, nothing had gone as well as Trip had hoped. He’d made a very bad first impression with T’Pol’s mother, but after breakfast he was starting to wonder if it was even possible to make a good impression with her. T’Les had actually used him and his culture as a slam against T’Pol. “You’ve learned much from them, haven’t you?” Trip cringed internally at the memory of T’Pol and her mother arguing right there in front of him. She definitely hadn’t been kidding about being on “uneasy” terms with her mother. Their argument only ended after T’Pol’s outburst. It actually seemed to catch T’Les off guard as much as he was. Somehow he doubted T’Les would’ve minded arguing in front of him, despite what T’Pol said. He actually had half a mind not to be working on T’Les’s food stasis unit because of how rudely she’d treated him and T’Pol after he offered to do it for her, but a promise was a promise, and he didn’t go back on his word. Besides, it gave him something to do while T’Pol was busy meditating and T’Les was off in town getting some fresh fruit to replace the stuff that had gone bad. The gespar was especially overripe; he only wished he’d known that before he bit into one of them. Working with his hands also had something of a therapeutic effect, too, going back to childhood. It gave his mind something else to focus on besides what he was feeling at a particular moment. Fixing a busted stasis unit wasn’t exactly the same kind of challenge as recalibrating a warp reactor might give him, but it was better than nothing. The only down side was that it hadn’t taken him that long to isolate the problem. A few more minor adjustments to the thing’s power source, and it wouldn’t have anymore of the unexpected outages that T’Les had told him it was having. At least I can fix something. Trip was starting to wonder if coming here was such a great idea after all. He’d managed to talk T’Pol into visiting home before Enterprise was finished being refit. And since Captain Archer wouldn’t let him stick around to oversee that refit, going to Vulcan with T’Pol seemed like a pretty good idea at the time -see the sights, learn about T’Pol’s culture, see if he could help patch things up between T’Pol and her mother. It was starting to look like he wasn’t going to get to do any of those things. If anything, it seemed like he was actually hurting things between T’Pol and her mother. He was actually a little intimidated by T’Les, even if he was kind of angry at her. She was very strong-willed, and if breakfast was any indication, T’Pol inherited more than her good looks from her. He couldn’t be too angry with her, though. After all, she could have just turned them away at the door. She was letting him stay under her roof, and both lunch and dinner seemed to be on her. Even if he had to get up at oh-dark-hundred to help out with breakfast, she was still being a generous hostess, strictly speaking. The door closed heavily behind Trip, the sound of wood meeting wood breaking his train of thought. Quickly turning to see the source of the noise, he saw T’Les, carrying the basket he saw her go to town with. His eyes went wide. Oh crap! She’s back already? Guess time really flies when you’re havin’ fun… He covered his surprise as quickly as he could manage, but somehow he doubted that she missed it. He watched her as she moved toward him, or rather toward the counter he was using as his temporary work bench, but he couldn’t get any kind of reading off of her the way he usually could with T’Pol. She looked at him without really making eye contact, which he found a little unnerving. He went back to the small piece of machinery in his hand for a moment, but looked up again at the sound of T’Les heavily setting the basket full of strange fruit down on the counter. Without even looking at him, she started to load the fruit into the sink. Well, here goes nothin’. Time to extend the olive branch. “I just wanna thank you for lettin’ me stay here.” He hoped that she would take it well. When she didn’t immediately respond, he found himself nervously shifting his attention between her and the device in his hands. When her response finally did come, well, it wasn’t exactly what he’d been hoping for. “Expressing gratitude is an Earth custom,” she told him flatly. He really didn’t understand what she and so many other Vulcans seemed to have against humans. Even T’Pol, when he first met her, seemed so stuck up in her views on humanity. But she did eventually come around, and actually made an effort to fit in with her human colleagues. “T’Pol says ‘thank you’ all the time.” T’Les nodded. “I’ve noticed.” She briefly made eye contact with him, as if to drive a point home. He wasn’t quite sure how to take that. Was it condescending? Or was there something more to it? Vulcans had a tendency to make him feel this way, but with T’Les it was especially frustrating because he never quite knew where he or T’Pol stood with her. On the one hand, she’d said some pretty disrespectful things to both him and T’Pol. On the other, she’d taken them into her home, which was more than he could say for his own parents. “T’Pol’s lucky,” he put forward, and looked up at her for emphasis. “It’s … nice to have a place to go home to.” He wasn’t quite sure if he wanted her to get his implication or not. He wasn’t exactly ready to talk about his own dysfunctional family just to get his point across. T’Les didn’t even look at him; she just put on a scrubbing mitt and started washing the weird fruit she’d loaded into the sink. But then, she didn’t even look at him when she dropped the bombshell on him. “I know that you’re romantically involved with my daughter.” Trip found himself staring off into space, at a complete loss of how to respond to that declaration. Whoa! How did she… Where the hell did that come from? He looked at her, mouth open to say… something, but nothing coming out. He tried to straighten out, but ended up shifting uncomfortably. She looked at him again, dead pan yet knowing at the same time. “There’s no logic in denying it,” she pressed him when he didn’t respond. “How long have you been attracted to her?” Wow, now there was a question, because Trip really wasn’t quite sure himself exactly when he started having the hots for T’Pol. It just sort of happened. He sighed, not quite believing that he found himself in this position, but he had a feeling that if he held anything back, T’Les would be on to him. I can’t believe I’m actually gonna tell her this… “I knew we had some kind of chemistry the first time we got into an argument,” he stammered. She looked at him with bemusement, and he gave her a small shrug, unsure of how he could make that sound any better. “I never had fun arguin’ with anyone before.” T’Les almost seemed to smile at that, for a fraction of a second before she went back to washing her fruit and placing them in a basket to dry. It reminded him a lot of the look T’Pol would give him when she was amused at something he said or did that wasn’t exactly intelligent on his part. It made him feel that much more foolish for stammering the way he was, but she’d taken him completely by surprise. He gave her a befuddled look. “I got the impression that T’Pol wasn’t gonna say anythang to you.” Another familiar look –the one T’Pol gave him when she knew she’d completely outsmarted him. “She didn’t.” Trip let his head drop. He’d just admitted to having an illicit affair with this woman’s daughter right to her face. T’Pol is gonna be pissed… “I’m her mother.” He looked back up at her, and she gave him a curt nod, as if to make him feel better for having been put on the spot. He took it in stride as best he could, but there really wasn’t anything to say to that. At least he was done making the last adjustments to the component he’d been working on. He quickly put it back into the larger assembly he’d taken out of the stasis unit and made his way around the counter, lips tight with his embarrassment. T’Les watched him as he slid the translucent orange cylinder back into place and activated the stasis unit. Her eyebrows quirked upwards ever so slightly at seeing it come to life again. “You’ve repaired it?” He looked between his handiwork and his hostess, trying to look as nonchalant as he could manage. “Yeah, the field generator just needed a little adjustment.” He shrugged. “Good as new.” She actually looked a little impressed. “If you have the time, perhaps you could repair my food synthesizer?” He gave her a noncommittal shrug, more or less accepting, but not promising anything. Just then, there was a knock at the door, interrupting them. “Do you mind?” T’Les asked him as she took her scrubbing mitt off. Trip nodded and made his way to the door as she dried her hands. Unlatching the door, he was greeted by the sight of a Vulcan man wearing a dark brown uniform. He certainly wasn’t very remarkable-looking –a little bit taller than he was, with brown eyes and that same bowl cut most Vulcans seemed to have. He had no idea who it was, and looked to T’Les, hoping she would. She did. “Koss?” Trip knew Vulcan for surprise if he ever saw it, and T’Les gave him a prime example as she saw who was standing in her doorway. Koss? Trip repeated to himself and raised his eyebrows in surprise, instantly recognizing the name. He looked at the uniformed Vulcan again, trying to get an impression of him in his mind. So this is the guy whose parents tried to make T’Pol go back to Vulcan to marry him… Trip frowned at the memory. About three years ago he’d wound up reading the letter that Koss’s parents sent T’Pol, giving her the ultimatum to return home and marry Koss, or the betrothal would be broken off, dishonoring her and her family. Trip had managed to talk her into staying on Enterprise. What was this jerk doing here now? Koss looked from Trip to T’Les. “I need to speak with T’Pol,” he declared. Koss gave Trip another look, like he was sizing him up. Trip didn’t care for it one bit. He immediately decided that he didn’t like this guy. T’Les went to go get T’Pol, but Trip stayed right where he was, making sure this new visitor came no further than the entryway. When T’Les emerged from the back of the house a short time later, he couldn’t help but look at T’Pol. She looked worried, her brow creasing in the middle where her eyebrows were drawn closer together. She only made eye contact with him once as she passed close to him, but it was enough for him to tell that she was afraid. His stomach knotted with worry as Koss casually strolled out into the courtyard, and T’Pol closed the door behind them. He stood there for a while, looking off into space as he rolled his tongue along the inside of his cheek in frustration. T’Les looked at him briefly, but as soon as he made eye contact with her, she broke it, and went back to scrubbing the rest of the fruit she had in the sink. “Think I’ll go take a look at that synthesizer now…” he muttered. T’Les didn’t react, not even when he made his way past her and grabbed his tools off of the counter. He didn’t know what was going on, but he had a feeling that it was no good. ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^ To Be Continued… |
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