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"Cry Havoc"
By MissAnnThropic
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: None of its mine. I’m just a sad little fangirl that spends her days writing fanfic and watching taped episodes of my favorite shows. :(
Description: The evolution of Trip and T’Pol’s relationship following the events in ‘Harbinger’.
Chapter 17
Jonathan Archer reclined on his bunk in his personal quarters after his duty shift. His uniform had been exchanged for comfortable lounge attire, his legs casually crossed at the ankles while he thumbed through a daily ship's report with one hand and with the other idly pet Porthos as the beagle lay beside him on the bed, the sleepy dog's body pressed to Archer's outer thigh.
The door chime redirected the captain's attention and jerked the snoozing animal awake.
"Come in," Archer called as he set aside his PADD to see to his evening visitor.
The door hissed open and Trip Tucker stepped into the captain's room. Porthos leapt off the bed and hurried over to Trip with his tail wagging. The animal stood at the engineer's feet and looked up at the human hopefully.
"Trip," Archer greeted as he sat up and swung his legs around to face Trip, in the process giving the younger man a quick once-over. Somewhere in his mind Archer guessed he'd been expecting some overt, obvious change to have occurred after the doctor's graphic description of the pon farr. What he thought would happen he wasn't entirely sure, but when his long-time friend walked into his private living quarters he looked strikingly normal and the captain was a little disillusioned. Trip hadn't turned green or grown pointy ears. Rather it was painfully familiar and outwardly down-right normal.
Trip reached down to pet the beagle, his left arm unnaturally stiff at his side, silent testimony to the same rigors of which the medical patches on his neck spoke. Trip straightened his posture again and said, "Sorry ta bother ya so late."
"Not at all, have a seat," the captain gestured toward a perch. "How's T'Pol doing?"
Trip sat down on the adjoining wall's bench gingerly, a play of strange discomfort flickered over his features, and he gave an abbreviated sigh. "Phlox says she's gonna be fine." Trip glanced at his left arm and smirked. "Actually, she's better off than I am. Take my advice and avoid ever gettin' into a brawl with her."
Archer gave a small smile. "How bad?"
Trip gave a half-shrug before listing his injuries. "Broken collar bone, fractured wrists, bruised ribs, some scratches and bruises." Trip ducked his head, embarrassed, and conveniently distracted himself with the dog at his feet who had yet to leave him alone. With his face still turned away from the captain, Trip said, "Phlox says I got off easy, considerin'. He's okayed me to return to duty tomorrow."
Archer smirked. "Which means you've already been to engineering."
Trip looked up at his friend and smiled. "Just came from there. Doctor said I couldn't return to duty until tomorrow but he didn't say anything about goin' there to get an update on how things have been goin' while I was... uh, indisposed."
Archer chuckled. Facing Trip in the aftermath of that pon farr business was turning out to be not nearly as awkward as he'd predicted.
Porthos, seeing he'd lost his position as center of attention, quietly went to his bed in the corner and laid down, content to watch the two men converse.
"So..." Trip sat back, "what did I miss?"
Archer effortlessly slipped into shop-talk. "We're en route to the last known location of the Ares; we'll pick up the trail of the Xindi from there on our own if we can't make contact with the other ship. Travis figures we're about five days out. We haven't run across any new information so we're pretty much where we left off."
Trip nodded solemnly.
Archer eyed his companion a moment. "Trip... I have to ask about this thing between you and T'Pol."
Trip went still, seemed to hesitate, then nodded. "Yeah... I'm sorry ya had ta hear it from Phlox."
"How long has this been going on?"
"Few weeks. Since right before we were told about the Ares comin'."
Archer wasn't sure if he was surprised at how long a time frame that was or by how short. As of two days ago he'd given up expecting anything where Commander Tucker and Sub-commander T'Pol were concerned. Certainly he was surprised that this had taken him so off-guard, when he thought he could read Trip well enough that something so big wouldn't stay hidden from him for more than an hour. He couldn't help but think it said something inherently sad about the state of their friendship that Archer had even not suspected. When the mission against the Xindi was over Archer would make it a point to spend more time with Trip, repair an apparently fractured friendship.
"Do you and T'Pol intend to continue this relationship?"
"Yes," Trip said plainly. "Which is part of the reason why I came to see ya." The engineer looked closely at his friend and Archer could tell Trip was seeking his opinion on the newly revealed personal relationship between the ship's second and third in command. There was also something unmistakably confrontational in his direct stare, a look Archer recognized as Trip Tucker's look of 'I've put my foot down on this and I'm not going to back down'.
Archer sighed. "Since this doesn't technically fall under Starfleet disciplinary jurisdiction since T'Pol is not a member of Starfleet I can't officially reprimand either of you for improper fraternization or conduct unbefitting an officer... however, if this begins to affect either of your work steps will have to be taken to address the issue." He hated to lay down the law book on his friend but as captain he was obligated. He was probably taking liberties as it was not to bring his crewmen up on charges. He was taking the regulations at face value to spare his friends and he well knew that, but decided it was something he could deal with later... when Starfleet Command made him.
"We understand that," Trip responded, "Ya don't have ta worry, we won't let it interfere with our duty."
"To be honest, I don't foresee there being a problem with that, not with you two, although Starfleet Command and the Vulcan High Council might see it differently once they catch wind of this." Archer frowned at the thought, predicted the headache that political tap-dance would become, and for the moment decided to ignore it entirely.
"I have to say," Archer added conversationally with the hint of a smile, "I never saw this coming. You two really shocked me."
Trip smirked. "Well, who would think? The way I used to view the Vulcans I would have said the idea of me and T'Pol together was nuts as little as three years ago. Things change."
"Yes, they do."
Trip lowered his gaze, pensive, and Archer sat in companionable, thoughtful silence with his friend. Archer wanted to be happy for Trip but concern kept nettling at him. Trip Tucker and T'Pol could not be more dissimilar if they tried; how long could a relationship between them last? When it did come to an end, how badly would Trip be hurt? For that matter, since he knew the commonly held conception of Vulcans lacking emotion was crap, how much would it hurt T'Pol? Archer didn't want to see either of them hurt.
Trip broke Archer's train of thought by rising in ungainly gracelessness as he said, "Well, I better get goin'. I told T'Pol I'd go by the mess hall and bring her somethin' to eat. She wasn't quite feelin' up ta leavin' her quarters yet."
"All right. Tell her she can take tomorrow off if she needs to. We're not doing anything yet other than trying to get back to where we were. We don't desperately need her expertise right now."
Trip nodded. "I'll tell her." The engineer stopped in his move toward the door and turned to look at Archer. "Jon... thank you."
"For what?"
Trip pursed his lips. "For not tryin' ta keep me and T'Pol apart."
Archer eyed Trip at his choice of words. "Of everyone on this ship I know you and T'Pol can be trusted to behave professionally and responsibly while maintaining a personal relationship." Archer meant that wholeheartedly, too. He could not imagine T'Pol compromising her duty for anything, her Vulcan sensibility simply would not allow for it. And Trip... frequently Archer felt as though Trip was an engineer first and foremost and everything else came secondary. Trip would never endanger Enterprise. His devotion to the ship, at times, challenged Archer's.
"Just don't make me regret turning the other cheek on this," Archer warned.
"We won't, Cap'n." And with that, Trip left.
*****
T'Pol felt her control returning to its rightful place, holding at bay the wild, emotional being within every Vulcan that was unleashed by the pon farr. She felt relief to once again command her actions. There was peace, logic, associated with being in control. Vulcans prized self-control, self-discipline, highly. The very threat of pon farr stirred both trepidation and anxiety in Vulcans.
T'Pol reflected that this, her first pon farr, dreaded for so long, had not been nearly as terrifying an experience as she had always thought it would be. T'Pol dissected this idea, this thought, as she sat primly before her recovered meditation candle. She had righted the upended candle and slipped into her single casual Vulcan robe (light-weight material woven into body-length folds and loose sleeves, bearing the uninitiated symbol of the Kolinahru on its beige and red surface) to initiate her first meditative state following the pon farr. Historically it was a more difficult meditative state to reach, merely for its timing so close on the heels of emotional anarchy. This, too, T'Pol was finding far easier than she previously suspected.
T'Pol inhaled control, peace, logic, and her recovering mind examined from multiple angles the events of her pon farr.
She honestly did not think she would have had such an agreeable, low-stress experience with a Vulcan mate. It was true that a Vulcan mate would have understood, without having to speak of it, the nature of the pon farr, would have shared the crazed frenzy of the mating drive. It was true she would have bonded to a mate that shared her culture, her ideals and beliefs, a mate of impeccable logic and sensibility.
Yet still T'Pol knew she would not have been as satisfied with such a mate. There were traits a Vulcan mate would not possess that her chosen human partner had, traits that compensated for any shortcomings he suffered from a Vulcan point of view.
Trip possessed qualities a Vulcan lacked... and if not lacked then possessed in paltry degrees in comparison to a human.
Trip had passion, passion the likes of which a Vulcan could scarcely comprehend. It was the fire of the pon farr but a flame that did not die, an inferno that was not relegated to once every seven years. To a Vulcan it seemed a wildfire, blazing out of control, but T'Pol knew now that was not entirely accurate. Trip functioned, most humans functioned, and lived with this white-hot fire of passion as they did. It was a feat a Vulcan could not master, and for that T'Pol had to admire her human shipmates.
Trip was accepting... far more accepting than a Vulcan mate would have been toward her. For her slights against Vulcan High Command T'Pol was shunned, disfavored among her people. It was so little a wrong but enough to change her image in her contemporaries' eyes. In contrast T'Pol had done so much to offend human customs, by sticking tenaciously to her Vulcan upbringing thumbing human traditions, and yet Trip still desired her. It was more acceptance than a Vulcan mate would have offered. Trip was quite possibly the first person to ever love T'Pol for who she was as an individual. That she was Vulcan was not a point of reference in Trip's mind, but a simple fact, one of many concerning T'Pol, no more influential to him than her dislike of canines.
Trip gave her unquestioned love. He'd known nothing about the pon farr, only that he could be severely injured and that T'Pol would die from it. The latter fact had been all he cared about. Without hesitation he'd come to her, saved her, and when she'd thrust herself into his mind, latched on to him in a Vulcan matebond, he'd not shied. He had been confused, startled, but even before he fully understood he took her to him, mind and soul. His knowledge of the matebond was in its infancy at best when he promised to be her husband for the rest of his life, his resolve unwavering. His love was so unerring and effortless; T'Pol hardly felt she deserved it.
She knew without doubt that she would not have loved a Vulcan bondmate as much as she loved Trip.
T'Pol inhaled and exhaled slowly, peace and certainty suffusing her entire being. She did not regret her choice of mates. Trip was human, yes, but he was hers. For all its illogic she could not imagine a more correct choice.
T'Pol's concentration shifted slightly when she sensed Trip's presence growing closer. Without pressing the summons button, Trip opened her door and stepped inside.
His voice was low, gentle, as he said, "I've never seen ya in that before."
T'Pol opened her eyes and looked down at her robes. "On Vulcan they are equivalent to humans' 'civilian clothes'; I possess only this robe of that fashion." T'Pol turned her eyes to Trip as the human moved around to sit on the floor across from her. In his hand was a covered bowl of salad and crackers.
Trip looked at T'Pol and she felt the adoration, the affection seeping from his mind. It gave her peace and serenity, as did the soft look in his eyes. It reinforced the mental stability she'd been meditating for hours to regain.
"I noticed somethin'," he said quietly. "When I was goin' around the ship I could still sense you but I couldn't hear ya. Not like I did before, when it was almost like words, like you were thinkin' right at me."
"I have not lost contact sensitivity with you," T'Pol observed, then on impulse reached across the distance between them and touched his knee. Trip smiled and his presence in her mind brightened.
'I can get used ta this touchin' thing,' his thoughts resonated.
'As my husband I shall no longer refrain from touching you.'
Trip sat up straighter, smiled wider. "I heard that."
T'Pol withdrew her hand and returned it to her lap. "Perhaps because you are human your mind is only sensitive enough for such explicit mental contact when we are physically touching."
Trip nodded then looked down at the bowl in his hand and he held it up. "Brought ya dinner."
"Thank you, Trip." Now that the pon farr was abating her appetite was returning. T'Pol leaned down to blow out the candle between them then accepted the salad from his hands. She considered moving to the small work desk nearby to eat but decided against it. The work desk accommodated only one person, and it faced the bulkhead so she would have her back to Trip. She would prefer to eat on the floor where she could look at him.
As she began to eat, Trip said, "Captain Archer wanted me to tell ya that there's no rush yet to get back to your post, so if ya need an extra day to recuperate..."
"That won't be necessary. By tomorrow's duty shift I will have sufficiently recovered."
"All right, then. Glad to know you're feelin' better." Trip's attention seemed divided between watching her and thinking to himself. T'Pol ate in silence, comfortable with his scrutiny. She was finding she derived almost inane pleasure from the ease that had formed between them, consequence of the matebond. Knowing his mind so intimately, as he now also knew hers, brought an aged comfort to the relationship. They might have been together a few weeks or since childhood. It was to her sharp relief, untempered happiness, that Trip adapted to the sensation, so foreign and alien to him, so easily. T'Pol had never given humans enough credit for their situational flexibility... an error she would not make again.
Just as a burst of amusement raced through the mental link connecting them, Trip laughed.
T'Pol paused to lift an inquiring eyebrow at him.
Trip, still mirthfully chuckling, said, "Just thinkin', it's been a hell of a leave from duty... ordered to have sex."
Trip's vibrant glee in her mind was impossible to ignore, the incongruent truth of his words truly entertaining, and T'Pol's mouth curved into a small smile.
Trip's laughter at once stopped, his expression becoming one of rapt wonder as he blinked at her. "You smiled."
T'Pol casually lowered her eyes to her salad. "Strict Vulcan practices are often relaxed in the private company of one's mate." T'Pol did not look up at Trip but could feel his presence, sensed his warmth. She luxuriated in them both as she took another bite of dinner.
Trip, without uttering a word, slid across the floor closer to her. His hand came to rest on her knee, as she'd touched his earlier, and T'Pol attended to the curiosity coming from him, as well as contentment and the distinct feeling of having been honored. The latter startled her and she looked up into his eyes.
Trip was still looking at her in staggered awe. "I think that was about the prettiest thing I've ever seen."
T'Pol blinked slowly at him, wordless. 'Only now can you truly know how your smile has always affected me, how deprived Vulcans are to never know such reassurance at so simple, so emotional and illogical, a gesture.'
'Maybe humans do it too much. Rare things are treasured more than common ones.'
T'Pol, almost humbled by his compliment in effect of her perceived beauty, returned to her meal. Trip's hand remained on her knee, establishing physical contact so Trip could hear her, almost feel her in his thoughts like a tactile object. T'Pol, unbothered by his touch, obliged him by allowing it and projecting several thoughts toward him for his benefit.
"Talked to Malcolm," Trip broke into the silence. "Seems like the whole crew knows that you and are I together." Amusement again, tenderness, and he said, "Course, they have no idea how serious it actually is."
For some reason that struck Trip, made his mind squirm in illicit joy, and T'Pol looked once more at him, this time askance. She began to get a deeper sense of the labyrinth-like puzzle her human mate's mind posed to her logical Vulcan one. She doubted she would ever completely comprehend it, but she could try. They would have, in good fortune, decades to try.
His only answer, if somewhat cryptic, to her confusion was to lean in and kiss her on the lips, soft and lingering. T'Pol decided she could easily learn to accept that as compensation for the human parts of him that she could never understand.
T'Pol finished her meal and stood to set the bowl on the work table to her left. Trip got to his feet right after her and she soon felt on her shoulder his fingers trailing the fabric of her robe. She turned to him and he looked once in her eyes then down at her attire. "I kinda like it."
T'Pol decided to wear it more often for that reason alone.
It was late, and as it occurred to one it seemed to occur to the other. Trip returned his eyes to hers and said in nearly a whisper, "I wanna stay here tonight."
She thought it unexpected that he felt he even need ask. T'Pol tilted her head up toward his in invitation. "I desire thee always at my side."
Trip's hand rose, his fingers traced once the curve of her left ear, then he stepped forward and slipped his arms around her, his chin coming to rest on her shoulder. A settled stillness came over him, mind and body.
A hug. A uniquely human gesture; Vulcans did not hug. Trip's arms enveloped her, held her close, and T'Pol mirrored his actions. Her arms clasped over his back and shoulders, her head nestled into place on his shoulder. Truly each would have to meet the other in the middle ground between their two cultures. Hugs were a human custom T'Pol could certainly adopt.
*****
Captain Archer made his way at a leisurely pace through the corridors of Enterprise shortly after going off-duty. Porthos was tagging at his heels, tail wagging happily to get to go for a walk. Archer had gone back to his ready room to pick up his dog and thought the animal looked like he could use a walk. In truth, it might have been the human master that needed the walk more.
It had been a little over a week since Enterprise had left Jupiter Station. They had reached their previous rendezvous coordinates with the NX Ares, found no sight or sign of the other Earth vessel, then resumed their plunge into the expanse to track down the Xindi.
The crew was back to the task without needing to be ordered to pony up and buckle down. A silent determination had replaced the easy mood that had suffused them upon returning from leave. Each and every person was prepared to face the Xindi at that very moment if necessary.
Archer, mind preoccupied, rounded a corner with beagle at side and looked up to see Trip and T'Pol (both fully recovered from their 'incurred' injuries) ahead of him.
The two were walking in the same direction as the captain some distance ahead, their backs to him and as yet no indication that they noticed him.
Archer smiled faintly to himself to watch them. Very little had changed in light of the knowledge that the two officers were involved in a romantic relationship. As Archer had predicted, their attitude toward work and duty remained damn near impeccable. The relationship itself was common knowledge on Enterprise at this point. To most it had just been suspected without need for verification. A few brave souls (whom Archer was thinking of reassigning to security since the prospect of a peeved Vulcan didn't deter them) had actually asked one or the other of them about it. As the old adage went, Vulcans could not tell a lie, and Trip was not a man to be ashamed of choices in his personal life... certainly not one to hide them. The grapevine took over from there, and soon Trip and T'Pol were yesterday's news.
The crew had accepted the relationship incredibly well. A little surprisingly, most approved. Archer had received no complaints or reports of disgruntlement or dip in productivity or work morale as a consequence. The Enterprise crew was more like a community than coworkers, closer to family than colleagues in many cases. From what Archer could tell, no one resented the personal development between the two senior officers. Not even the cross-species factor seemed to trouble the crew, but then T'Pol was one of them, in many eyes an Enterprise crewman before a Vulcan.
Even still, Trip and T'Pol were duly discreet about their relationship.
Now that Archer knew to look for it, though, he could see little indications, little familiarities that no one else had with T'Pol or she with them. There were touches, few and fleeting but physical contact nonetheless. In Vulcan terms, no doubt painfully obvious closeness. Trip venturing to touch her in public, odd enough, was nothing compared to seeing T'Pol openly initiate contact. More than once he'd seen a strange hand-shake like gesture of sorts pass between them, index and middle fingers offered and touched together. Archer didn't know enough of Vulcan customs to recognize the mutual action, but his guess was it was the Vulcan version of a chaste peck on the cheek. It certainly seemed to crop up in meeting and parting moments between the two where a human couple might exchange short kisses.
Archer refrained from asking Trip about it. He'd be embarrassed if it was something far more intimate in human terms than the captain had already guessed. And if it was, he didn't want to be put into the position of having to order further discretion from them, especially when no one else on Enterprise had any more idea than Archer what the finger touch meant.
Another sign, when one was astute to their manner together, was the space issue. Archer looked at Trip and T'Pol walking down the hall together and noticed that very detail in them now. Vulcans had a much stricter sense of personal space and gave much less leeway on the matter. A perimeter that obviously no longer applied to Trip. They were walking almost shoulder to shoulder, sometimes brushing against each other. T'Pol's hands were clasped casually behind her back... as were Trip's.
Archer smiled. He doubted Trip realized he'd picked up some of T'Pol's idiosyncrasies.
With calm deliberateness T'Pol slowed, glanced over her shoulder back at Archer, and greeted, "Captain."
Archer wasn't surprised that T'Pol had detected his arrival even if she'd betrayed nothing until that moment. Vulcan sense of hearing and sense of smell was very tricky to circumvent.
Trip paused to look back at Archer and it was stall enough for the captain to catch up to them. "Trip, T'Pol," he greeted and gestured for them to continue ahead of him as he fell into step a pace behind. The corridors were too small for any more than two people to walk abreast. To accommodate Archer as best they could, Trip and T'Pol stepped apart so the captain was between them, even if behind.
"Takin' Porthos for a walk?" Trip observed needlessly.
Archer glanced down at his companion animal. "He looked like he needed it."
Trip smirked, cast a glance at T'Pol, and as if on cue T'Pol's monotone voice intoned, "Trip looked like he required a 'stroll' as well."
Archer laughed. Perhaps as blaring as T'Pol publicly touching Trip was the sudden willingness (when off-duty) to call the chief engineer 'Trip'. The first time she'd done it in Archer's presence he'd been certain he'd misheard. The singular use of an informal name made the simple act of calling Trip by his preferred nickname seem like a bestowed honor.
The encounter illustrated another thing Archer had picked up on, to his intense amusement. Since getting together with the southern-born human, T'Pol had given barest glimpses of a sense of humor Archer had not suspected existed before.
Trip, far from seeming indignant at effectively being referred to as T'Pol's 'pet', only chuckled.
"Made any headway with those sensor readings, Sub-commander?" Archer asked his science officer.
T'Pol cant her head slightly to one side, a gesture Archer was learning to equate with a deeply pensive Vulcan. The last day and a half, Enterprise's long-range sensors had detected radiation and energy spikes in the distance. The initial speculations were inconclusive. The spikes and spurts were coming from within the expanse, and the wave distortions that played such terrible havoc with physical matter warped traveling light and energy and made long-range readings unreliable. T'Pol had been hard at work trying to verify the cause and location of the incidents but the Vulcan, thus far, seemed completely stymied... and duly perturbed.
T'Pol's voice, though still its typically calm pitch, seemed to carry a hint of edge. "I have yet to make any 'headway', however I intend to study the data carefully before I retire."
Archer gave a nod at his officer's devotion to duty, then in turn his eyes cut once more in Trip's direction. It was also unspoken, unsubstantiated knowledge that Trip and T'Pol were sharing quarters. How consistently Archer didn't know, wouldn't ask, but when he couldn't reach one at their specified quarters he'd wait a few minutes (as long as that was possible) then would 'casually' contact the other's quarters to inquire about the MIA crewman's whereabouts... it usually, conveniently turned up the person he was looking for. Archer wondered how much longer he could delicately dance around the issue before he had to make some kind of official report on the goings-on aboard Enterprise. He hoped it would hold off long enough for them to contend with the Xindi first. If either T'Pol, Trip, or both got in trouble for their relationship with their respective governments it would be a blow to the ship, and Enterprise needed both of them too desperately right now.
"Bridge to Captain Archer!" the intercom system spat loudly.
Archer went to the nearest wall panel, Trip, T'Pol, and Porthos close behind, and pressed down the toggle switch. "Archer here."
"Sir, we've detected a ship on a direct intercept course."
"Is it Xindi?"
"No sir... sir, Ensign Baird just picked up a distress call; it's the Ares."
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