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“Reconciliation” Part V Rating: NC-17 Author's note: Vulcan words and phrases from Vulcan Language Dictionary. Special thanks to Linda for being my patient beta. PART V ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^ T’Pol had been faced with a difficult decision, but it was one that had to be made. Koss and his parents would do everything in their power to ensure that her marriage to him took place, or to ensure that she and her family would suffer greatly if it did not. Koss had mentioned that his father was influential, and offered to have him help her mother get reinstated. It would not surprise her if his father had been responsible for her mother’s forced retirement to begin with. Koss had known too much for it to be coincidence. She had resisted, of course. She had threatened to call the kal-if-fee, to have a challenger of her choice fight Koss to the death, but it was an empty threat, and he had seen right through it. His suggestion that she choose Trip as her champion was a very real, if thinly veiled threat. Trip would be no match against a Vulcan. Even with the training that Major Hayes had given him, Vulcans possessed nearly three times the strength of a human on average. And Trip was the only person who would fight for her. He’d probably insist on it if she informed him of the kal-if-fee. That’s why it was best that she kept him in the dark. He’d been in an unpleasant mood when she’d re-entered the house, busy repairing her mother’s food synthesizer. His face had quickly softened as he saw her approaching him, but his brow was furrowed with concern. “Hey, T’Pol.” T’Pol quickly forced down her guilt and her fear as he made some more adjustments to the synthesizer. “I see that you’ve managed to turn this into a working vacation,” she said in her best teasing tone. He kept working on the synthesizer, focusing his attention on it. “Just thought I’d make myself useful,” he grunted, struggling to put the synthesizer back together. “Besides, not like I have much else to do. At least not until breakfast.” Finished, he turned to face her, and wiped the sweat off of his brow with his forearm. She let her head bow forward, looking down at the floor. “I apologize not being more … present.” Trip shook his head. “You don’t have anything to apologize for. I know you’ve had plenty to deal with since you’ve gotten here.” She shifted her gaze back to him, giving him a considering look. She knew that he was in a bad mood, and it never ceased to amaze her that he could be so empathetic to her even when he was angry. It made what she was going to have to do that much more painful. “Perhaps this would be an opportune time to visit the landmarks you wished to see.” His face brightened. “Really? That’d be great. Just let me finish up here and put my tools away.” T’Pol gave him a nod did her best to keep a neutral expression. He went about putting his tools away as she turned to leave the room. * * * The personal transport arrived shortly after she’d summoned it. It had been somewhat expensive, but it was the least she could do for Trip. She hadn’t seen him this excited since they first began their journey to Vulcan. She acted as his tour guide, taking him to see all the places he’d wanted to go -Mount Tar'Hana, the markets at ShiKahr, the L-langon Mountains at the edge of the forge, and a tour along Falor's Journey, ending at the fire plains. All of his worries seemed to have been forgotten by the time they stepped out of the transport, and on to the red, dusty rock. T’Pol inhaled the hot air, taking comfort in its warmth. The fire plains were just thirty meters away now. She looked at Trip with concern; the heat would only get more intense as they approached the open lava fields that made up the fire plains, but he was still smiling broadly, seemingly unaffected by the heat, despite the visible rivulets of sweat that rolled down his forehead. They stepped out to the edge of the butte that overlooked the burning fire plains, standing side by side. It was a familiar sight to her, one she’d first seen when she was very young. Molten rock boiled through the plains’ many fissures, lighting the ancient stone statues from below with an eerie red glow. The statues were said to outline the path Falor took on his journey across the dangerous plains, the hooded monks watching over anyone who dared to follow in those mythical footsteps on the black volcanic rock. Trip looked out over the vista with excitement. “You know, if we have time when we get back to Earth, I’d like to show you some sights,” he said and looked at her with a smile. “Return the favor.” T’Pol’s chest heaved as she drew in her breath. She knew that she wouldn’t be able to take him up on his offer, and she didn’t want him to anticipate it, only so she could disappoint him later. She also didn’t want to disappoint him now with the news she had to share with him. Some of her sorrow must have shown through, because when she didn’t answer right away, he looked at her with concern. “Everythang okay?” She briefly considered his face, unsure of how to say what she needed to tell him. She looked out at the fire plains. “There’s something I need to tell you,” she began. “I’ve decided to marry Koss.” She couldn’t see his disappointment, but she could hear it in the deepening of his voice as he asked her in disbelief, “marry him?” She took in another deep breath, and turned to walk behind him, keeping her eyes on the ground as she made her way to his left side. “If I join his family, my mother will regain her position at the academy.” Silence. What do I tell him? How can I make him understand without hurting him? Working up the courage to look at him, she tried to elaborate. “His father is a senior Minister with a great deal of influence.” She tried to look as honest and sincere as she could without revealing too much information, but his face hardened and he shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t get it; are they forcin’ you to do this?” He crossed his arms across his chest and looked intently at her. She withered under his intense scrutiny, and looked away. “The decision was mine.” That was partially true, but her choices were limited to marriage with Koss, or being a fugitive from Vulcan law while her mother suffered the consequences for her actions. Trip straightened and stared off into space. His jaw slackened and she could see the first hint of sadness in his eyes. He looked at her again, as if he couldn’t believe that she had come to this decision on her own. He was right, but she needed him to believe that this was entirely her decision. She didn’t want him to get himself killed in a foolish attempt to defend her. “My mother resigned because of my actions,” she implored. His face tightened again and he closed his eyes tightly as he shook his head again. “You told me three years ago, that you didn’t even love this guy.” His eyes bored into her again, seeking out the truth. She looked away, unable to tell him what he wanted to know. “So you’re just gonna leave Starfleet and move back to Vulcan?” he asked her critically. She looked at him with open shock. “I’ve been negotiating with Koss’s family,” she said defensively, and paced behind him. “Negotiating?” His human mores were making this task extremely difficult. He never had been very tolerant of this aspect of her culture, even when this subject came up three years ago after he’d read the letter from Koss’s parents. She clenched her jaw, the anger rising up from within her even as she sought to keep Trip calm. “They’ve agreed,” she started out strongly, then looked away and pushed much of the tension back down. “We won’t have to reside together. Not right away.” She looked out at the fire plains, desperately wishing that this conversation would be over. “I’ll remain on Enterprise for the time being.” “That’s real generous of ‘em,” Trip muttered sardonically. T’Pol found it increasingly difficult to breathe. She drew in as much air as she could, but couldn’t make herself look at him, at least not directly. “Trip, I have to do this,” she sighed and shook her head. “For many reasons.” “And how am I supposed to take this?” She didn’t know what to say. Nothing she said now would make this better, for him or for her. She wanted desperately for them to be able to go back to Enterprise, to not have to worry about what her mother or anyone else might think. To be able to have her friend with her every day, and to share his bed every night. But none of that was going to happen now; she was going to have to hurt him again instead. “I’m sorry,” was all she could offer him, but knew it wasn’t enough. She forced herself to look at him, and tried to offer him more solace, but he cut her off before she could speak. “You’re sorry?” His lips drew tight and he raised a critical eyebrow. “You brought me sixteen light-years just to watch you get married to someone you barely know.” She looked away from him again in shame, and remained silent. What could be said in response to that? He was right, being sorry hardly made up for bringing him here just so she could break his heart. After all that they’d been through, it had come to this. He forced the air out of his lungs, and almost seemed to laugh. He even smiled, as if he thought this was some kind of hoax that he was the victim of. She wanted to say something, anything, to him, but he turned away from her and started to make his way back to the transport. She watched after him, sorrow threatening to tear what little remained of her damaged Vulcan discipline to shreds once and for all. * * * * * * * * * * T’Les closed the door to T’Pol’s room, and walked down the short hallway. Her daughter was nearly finished preparing herself for her wedding, which would be within the hour. She had tried speaking to T’Pol, to support her in her decision to marry Koss. In the long run, it would bring her daughter security on Vulcan; Koss’s father was an influential man. In time, she hoped T’Pol would no longer be considered a pariah among their people. T’Pol had refused to speak to her, and refused to even acknowledge her presence in the room, simply continuing as she had been doing when T’Les had entered the room. But it was more than T’Pol’s continued stubbornness that disquieted T’Les, it was the fear and anger that she’d seen in her daughter’s reflection. At first, T’Les had blamed her daughter’s emotionalism on her time aboard the human ship, and on her human companion. Her daughter had acted most disgracefully by refusing to keep to her duty three years ago, and by becoming intimate with this human in further defiance of that duty to her family. She wanted to blame her Commander Tucker for influencing her daughter in this way, but she knew in her heart that he was not to blame. Something else was wrong with her daughter. Her once strong physique had withered away, and even though her daughter had always been rebellious, no amount of human influence should have eroded her emotional control to the point that it had been. She could hardly blame Commander Tucker for any of that. If anything, her daughter seemed to draw strength from him. While she would be concerned for the shame her daughter and any of her offspring would endure if she had taken this human as a mate, she could find no other logical reason to disapprove of a hypothetical wedding between the two of them. Commander Tucker had actually proven to be an excellent representative of his people – intelligent and polite. She could see at least part of what her daughter had seen in him. He was as worthy as any human possibly could be. And why should she object to their relationship simply because he is human? Is not one of Surak’s basic tenants to celebrate Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations? Was she not secretly fighting to return Surak’s truth to light? Ironically, her daughter’s relationship to this human embodied the very thing she was supposed to believe in as a Syrannite. So there was no logical reason for her continued objection, only emotion – concern for her daughter’s well-being. T’Les couldn’t help but feel some pain in her very katra at the situation her daughter was in, because in part, she was responsible for placing her daughter in the distress that she was currently in. She had not been entirely forthcoming in the reasons for her forced resignation from the Science Academy and she strongly suspected that part of T’Pol’s decision had been based on this. Why else would she have interrupted her afternoon meditation with questions of her retirement following Koss’s visit? She had to admit to some selfishness on her part. All along, she had forced the issue with her daughter, disregarded her daughter’s wishes because of her own, and completely ignored Commander Tucker on the basis of his species. She had to ensure that her daughter was actually making the right decision, and if T’Pol would not speak to her, perhaps Commander Tucker would. She swiftly made her way to the guest room, and knocked on the sealed wooden door. “Come in,” came Commander Tucker’s muffled voice. She keyed the entry padd and entered the room before the door had even fully slid aside. She was greeted by the sight of his back as he awkwardly adjusted himself in front of the room’s small mirror. “Koss and his family are waiting,” she announced. “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he replied after some more fidgeting. He turned to face her and sighed. “Know any good tailors?” Quickly scanning him, she could see that the top clasp on the grey jacket was causing his difficulties. Otherwise, the formal clothing she’d set aside from him seemed to be serving satisfactorily enough in the stead of a suited fitted specifically for him. She approached him and examined the problem more closely, but spared a glimpse at his face. She saw the same sadness and anger there that she had seen in her daughter, though the sadness was by far more prominent. Raising her hands to his collar, she gripped both sides of the hidden fastener and strained to force them together. “These clothes,” she began, “belonged to my husband.” The stubborn clasp now fastened, she smoothed the front of the grey jacket with her aging hands and rested them on his shoulders, taking note of how the old clothing fit on someone so young. She looked directly into his sapphire eyes, and let her hands fall softly along the sleeves once filled by her husband’s arms. She looked away at a fleeting memory, and forced a burst of sadness back down. “They fit you well.” She watched his face for understanding, but found only distress. “Aren't you bothered by the fact that T'Pol doesn't even care for this guy?” Part of her wanted to admit that, yes, it did indeed bother her that her daughter was so distressed, but Vulcans didn’t always have a choice in these matters. “She’s fulfilling her family obligation.” She looked away from his pained expression, and smoothed the front of her purple dress. Part of her also hoped that her daughter would still find fulfillment in her new marriage, the way she once had with her own mate. “I met my husband only once before we were joined.” She looked back at him. “In time, we developed a deep connection to each other.” He paused for a moment, simply looking back at her, as if he was searching for some small comfort there, but wouldn’t allow himself to find it. “Yeah… well…” he muttered and turned back to the mirror and feigned to check himself in the mirror again. “Maybe she'd rather make a connection with someone else.” It was clear who he was alluding to; she didn’t understand why he kept up this pretense, or why her daughter did for that matter. It was apparent that the two of them had already formed a connection that went far beyond the immature affair she’d originally supposed existed between them. “Have you informed T’Pol?” “Informed her of what?” he asked her as he continued to casually check himself in the mirror. “That you’re in love with her.” It continued to elude her why he always acted so surprised when she stated the obvious. “Vulcans may not express their emotions, but we are sensitive to them.” He nodded his head, his initial shock quickly disappearing from his expression. “I don't think I knew it until we were standing over that lava field and she told me she was going to marry Koss.” His voice was more clear and concise than she had ever heard it before as he confessed his feelings for her daughter. His strange accent had almost vanished completely. “That's when it hit me. I was going to lose her.” He paused and took a breath. “I wanted to tell her right there, but… I couldn't.” His face tightened and he shook his head with regret. She already felt remorse for her daughter and Commander Tucker, and for her part in causing them this pain. Her own stubborn pride had blinded her from seeing what her daughter needed could not be found with her family on Vulcan. She started to leave, to let Commander Tucker mourn in private before the wedding began. She was almost to the door when she turned back, one last possibility to reverse this decision making itself known to her. “There’s still time.” He was understandably puzzled. “I thought you didn’t approve.” “I may not condone your relationship,” she resolutely told him, “But it’s important for her to have all the facts.” He raised his left eyebrow slightly. It was likely he didn’t know about the kal-if-fee, but knowing that he felt as strongly as he did, T’Pol would be able to make the decision to declare it if she wished. As a human, she estimated that he would have great difficulty in combating Koss, but she’d underestimated him before. He shook his head after briefly considering her words. “If I say anything, T'Pol might call off the wedding,” he bleakly replied. “Or worse, not call it off. She's got enough pressure on her as it is. I don't want to make things any more complicated.” She considered informing him about the wedding challenge, so he would have all the facts, but she quickly dismissed it. He was correct that it would place more pressure on T’Pol, because calling the challenge meant that Commander Tucker might be killed as he fought for the right to marry her daughter. In his own way, he was an honorable man. She made her way to the small room’s bed, and gently lifted her late husband’s brown robe from the embroidered quilt it was laying on. Commander Tucker followed her, and allowed her to put his arms through its loose-fitting sleeves, adjusting the flowing cloth over him with great care. She allowed the tender memories the texture of the cloth rekindled as she gave him one last look. “I want you to have these,” she told him, and ran her fingers through the folds at the front of the robe. “They are my gift to you, Commander Charles Tucker.” His mouth opened, but he was too stunned to reply. She let her hands leave the treasured cloth one last time, and returned them to her sides. “Sochya eh dif. Lau tu katra tal-tor ashau va'ashiv.” She turned and quickly left the room without looking at him or waiting for his response. * * * * * * * * * * Trip pulled his Starfleet issue duffel out of the closet by its loose straps and placed it gently on the bed he'd slept in for the last week. As trying as the week might have been with its early mornings and the ever present tension between T'Pol and her mother, there was still a small emptiness within him as he realized he'd probably never return to the place of his lover's birth. His face soured as he thought of the wedding he'd just seen, not that he needed a reminder of why he was leaving a full week earlier than he'd planned. He tried not to think of the sadness he'd seen in T'Pol's eyes, just before the wedding, before she'd given herself away to a man he knew she didn't love, and who he suspected had blackmailed her into marrying him. Trip's head tightened and heat radiated from behind his eyes. Koss. Bastard just couldn't accept that she'd turned him down. He'd talked T'Pol out of marrying that damn architect over a year ago, back when Koss's parents had threatened to call off the betrothal unless she returned to Vulcan to marry their son. She didn't want to marry him then, and he could tell that she didn't want to marry him now, but he'd still had to watch the woman he now knew for certain he loved marry another man, a man who barely even seemed interested in being married. Why else would he let T'Pol return to Enterprise right after their little week-long honeymoon? Trip practically tore his shirts from their hangers as he grabbed a handful of them out of the closet. He didn't even bother to fold them as he stuffed them into the duffel. He could barely even stand to look at the wild tropical patterns on them. He'd only even brought them because he knew it'd drive T'Pol nuts to see him wear them, especially on Vulcan. He'd never worn them, and he'd never wear them again. But he'd still have to carry them, one last time. He took a little more care with the few polo shirts he'd spent the bulk of his time here wearing. The course cotton felt strange somehow as his fingers brushed over it. The material had kept him relatively cool in the heat of the desert planet, wicking his sweat away and letting his skin breathe, even out on the lava plains when T'Pol had told him that she was going to marry Koss. Trip gently folded the polos into neat rectangles, just as he'd learned to do with his uniform shirts back in Starfleet training, before they, too, were stuffed into the soft-sided bag with his ship's logo on it. He gave his underthings much the same treatment, and couldn't help but remember hazel eyes watching him as warm hands brushed over his skin, shedding the blue clothing and his modesty from his body. That was when he came closest to letting the tears escape from his swollen eyes. He stopped for a moment, and waited for the pressure behind his eyes to go away, for his throat to begin working again, and for his chest to stop heaving. This was why he had to leave now. The flight back to Enterprise, his home, would be that much more difficult for him if she was there to constantly remind him of what he was losing. He saved the silken suit and robe for last, folding them as best he could remember finding them at the foot of his bed. He gently placed them on top of his other clothes, letting his fingers linger on the soft material of the alien fabric. He still didn’t know what to think of T’Les. When he’d first seen her, he’d been downright intimidated by her. As she and T’Pol had fought, he’d learned to resent her, and thought that the way she’d pressured T’Pol about coming home was downright selfish. Yet there was still something about her he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Whenever she asked him about his relationship with her daughter, he couldn’t help but confess pretty much everything, something he could never do to T’Pol herself. There was also what she’d done just before the wedding. She actually seemed like she regretted everything, and was ready to call off the wedding herself. And then she’d given him her husband’s robes… He zipped the duffel’s opening closed. Finished packing, Trip hefted the bag over his shoulder, and lamented to himself, not for the first time, of just how much heavier things were on this alien world. The duffel bag was a good twelve kilos heavier on Vulcan than it would have been on Earth. The thinner air didn't help matters either, but it didn't keep him from quietly making his way out of the door, carrying more than the weight of the bag as he left this place behind him. * * * He caught the first transport to Earth that he could find. It was a small ship, currying some Vulcan diplomat and his aides to Earth, but Trip rarely ventured out of his cabin, so he didn’t see them much. The important thing was that this ship was faster than the transport that had brought him to Vulcan with T’Pol a little over a week ago. One week by himself on a ship full of Vulcans was definitely better than two. One week and he’d be back on Enterprise. He didn’t care what Jon had to say about it either, he was going to work on getting her ready to go whether he liked it or not. If he didn’t, he might as well check in to Starfleet Medical’s psyche ward, because he’d go insane if he didn’t have something to keep his mind occupied. Off of her. He made a point of eating dinner late, just so he’d have the ship’s small mess hall to himself. Vulcans weren’t exactly what he’d consider sociable, so he knew he wouldn’t have to worry about one of them coming up and starting a conversation with him when he was definitely not in the mood for one, but they did have a tendency to stare sometimes. At least tonight he was able to enjoy a bowl of plomeek in peace. In the meantime, he really didn’t have much to do. He’d brought the planned refit specs with him, but he found himself bored with reading them after only a few hours. The stiff mattress in his cabin started to look appealing, so he decided to turn in. Staring at the darkened ceiling, he couldn’t help but hope that tomorrow might be good for something, or that the week would go that much faster. * * * Trip felt warm. He could swear that he could smell her. Pecans and sand, with a hint of copper. He opened his eyes, expecting to see the ceiling of his small cabin, but all he saw was this strange white light in every direction. He was floating, weightless in this white space. Turning his head, he saw her nude form floating next to him. Her eyes pleaded to be with him, her lips quivering the way they had just before her wedding. He was drawn to her, wrapping his arms around her warm body as he kissed her supple lips. She was fire and spice in his mouth, her burning skin against his. He broke the kiss and gazed softly into her hazel eyes, every bit as beautiful as he remembered from the day he first saw them. He brushed his hand against her cheek. You look amazing, he told her without actually speaking. She looked longingly at him. “I'm grateful that you're here.” He nuzzled the base of her neck, inhaling her sent. We shouldn’t be doin’ this. “Shhhh….” He closed his eyes, not needing to see anymore. He felt her against him, her body pressing into his, her arms wrapping around him. He felt content. All the horrible things that had happened had no meaning here. There was no T’Les, there was no Koss, there was no Vulcan priest, only happiness, and the love he knew he felt for the woman in his arms, and the love she felt for him, even if she could never tell him. ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^ END |
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