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"Differential" Rating: Most of the story is PG, but expect some seriously R-rated bumps along the way.
Chapter Four T'Pol came to consciousness slowly. She was vaguely aware of a massive headache... and a powerful sensation of thirst. The world spun wildly around her when she opened her eyes for a moment, so she quickly closed them again. Her brain worked sluggishly to identify her surroundings. Blue. It was blue. And warm. She swallowed with great difficulty. How long had it been since she'd had a drink of water? She moved her hand up to rub her parched lips. The pain she felt in her wrist surprised her. What was wrong with her? In fact, there was pain registering from all over her body. But there was something else too. Something was... different. A new kind of warmth flooded through her awareness. A feeling of tenderness. Other senses began to return. T'Pol's tiny nostrils flared gently as they sniffed the air. There was a reassuring scent around her... underneath her. It permeated everything. She knew this scent. It was comforting... perfect. It was him. Just as it should be. For the first time in days, T'Pol felt sated. Content. The demons of her body's need had finally received satisfaction, allowing her a measure of respite. She knew, in the back of her mind, that the relief was only temporary. But it was enough for now. And when the demons returned, he would be there to fight them off for her. To defeat them willingly, eagerly, in her name. Just as it should be. Reassured that all was right with the world, the Vulcan laid her head back down upon her lover's chest. She felt herself being enveloped in a pair of strong, comforting arms, and knew her thirst could wait. Within moments, blissful sleep had claimed her once more. Standing quietly at the monitor in Sickbay, Phlox observed this subtle interaction with a smile. In all his many years of study, the workings of Nature had never ceased to amaze him. Biology was a powerful thing indeed. And Vulcan biology, in particular, was a force to be reckoned with. But love, Phlox knew, was stronger still. Feeling inordinately pleased with himself, the Doctor turned off the monitor and set the Decontamination chamber to run through yet another long cycle. Best to let them sleep, he thought. But as he continued sorting through the samples from the surface, uncomfortable realities began to manifest themselves. Phlox thought back to the Captain's reaction from earlier, and wondered how long Archer had harbored romantic feelings for his First Officer. No doubt there would be a high price for the Commander and Sub-Commander to pay for their nascent bond. How would the Captain deal with the relationship? How would Starfleet react to such an indiscretion? And then there was the Vulcan High Command. That reaction, the Doctor suspected, would be severe. But all that lay in the future. For now... for this moment... Phlox could give his friends peace. And so he did.
Archer caught the polo ball as it came ricochetting off his cabin wall. He sent it flying back against the bulkhead angrily. WHAAP!! How did I miss it? How long have things been going on between them?! WHAAP!! How could they?! His First Officer... with his friend! His best friend! WHAAP!! If T'Pol was in need of... well, she should have come to him. Why hadn't she asked him for help? After all, he was the Captain! WHAAP!! Why Trip? They hated each other... didn't they? And why hadn't Trip said anything? Why had he-- WHAAP... CRASH!! So absorbed was Archer in his self-pity, that he'd completely missed the ball when it bounced back to him. It went careening across his desk, sending personal items flying. Sitting in the path of the fallout, Porthos yelped and ran behind the over-sized bunk to hide. And finally... Archer's anger dissipated. He sat on his mattress heavily and reached behind the bunk, lifting the beleaguered beagle into his lap. "Sorry, Porthos. Dad's just a little... well, maybe a lot, jealous," he said, scratching the dog behind the ears softly. "Not very Captain-like, is it?" Porthos whimpered meekly and licked his chin. Not very Captain-like indeed. Settling Porthos carefully on the bunk beside him, Archer stood and walked over to a small storage compartment. From this, he removed a bottle of liquor and a shot glass. A privilege of rank to be sure, but it certainly wasn't what he wanted. What he needed. How long had it been since he'd enjoyed the company of woman? Too damn long, he thought frustrated as he poured himself a drink. Since Rebecca. But then, a Captain's only mistress should be the starship under his command... right? He thought he remembered hearing that somewhere. And just maybe it was true. But it was cold comfort on a lonely night. Archer knocked the shot back fast, then ran his finger around the rim of the glass. It's not like Trip didn't try to talk about it, he mused silently. His Chief Engineer had been all tied up in knots in the batting cage the other day. And Archer certainly wanted his friend to be happy. But why does it have to be with T'Pol? The Captain had ever really believed that a sexual relationship was possible with the Vulcan... with any Vulcan woman for that matter... which was part of the reason this had come as such a shock. But these last few months... well, he thought that he and T'Pol had finally come to understand one another. And when she'd actually defended their mission to Soval and the High Command after their latest brush with the Suliban... he was so happy that he'd damn near kissed her that night in her cabin. He'd become very aware of the Sub-Commander, physically, upon seeing her sitting on her bunk in silk pajamas. That was the moment when he'd first begun to consider the possibility of having something more than friendship with the Science Officer. But the reality was, he and T'Pol weren't even friends yet. Not really, anyway. Archer's anger toward the Vulcans had run too deep, after what his father had lost because of their meddling. T'Pol too, he knew, had harbored her own prejudices against her Human crewmates. Sure... in the year they'd served together, they'd made a lot of progress together. But trust was still something that he and his second-in-command struggled with. He and T'Pol still had a long way to go. Trip, on the other hand, was a different story. When was it exactly that his Chief Engineer had earned T'Pol's trust? Months ago, certainly. Maybe even during the Enterprise's very first assignment. That day that he, the Captain, had foolishly gotten his ass shot up on his first away mission. Somehow, Trip had managed to convince T'Pol to help them. Archer knew she'd even risked her own standing with the High Command to do so. All because of Trip. The two certainly hadn't liked each other much for some time. But Trip always spoke his mind with the Sub-Commander, and Archer suspected she appreciated that about him. It made sense. It was one of the things that Archer appreciated about his friend. My friend, Archer thought wearily. T'Pol's friend too. And now... like it or not, they're something more. But just what that something was, and how it might affect the ship and their mission, was the Captain's business. And it had yet to be determined, his own personal feelings aside. So, giving his beagle a reassuring pat, Archer grabbed the bottle and glass... and another shot glass as well... and went off in search of his friend.
"You look like you just got mugged by a squad of pissed off Klingons." He turned to see his Captain ambling into the room behind him, carrying a bottle of something that looked suspiciously like bourbon and a pair of shot glasses. Trip smiled wearily. "Is there any other kind?" Archer smiled in return. "I doubt it. You okay?" Trip considered the question. "Yeah, I think so. Maybe. Hell, I don't know." He attempted to reposition his arm in the sling hanging at his side and winced. As Phlox predicted, both he and T'Pol had suffered a number of injuries during their encounter in the Decontamination chamber. Trip was nursing a black eye and a dislocated shoulder in addition to his bruised ribs. T'Pol, on the other hand, had sustained a badly sprained wrist and a mild concussion. And they both bore numerous bruises, scratches and cuts over the rest of their bodies, including - embarrassingly - bite marks. Archer set the glasses down on a nearby table and filled them. Then he handed one to his friend and took the other for himself. The two men raised the drinks briefly and then emptied them, savoring the burning liquid. Archer quickly poured them another round. "Gotta hand it to you Trip... when you fall for a woman, you fall hard." They both laughed. Then Trip fell silent, glancing out at the gas giant again, feeling suddenly embarrassed. "I owe you an apology, Jon. I know we've put you in a helluva difficult position. I shoulda told you something was goin' on, but... I honestly didn't know what it was myself." Archer looked down at his drink, feeling suddenly guilty for his own selfish thoughts. "The Doctor and I have spoken with Hoshi. Phlox was able to explain a little of the... extenuating circumstances. She's agreed to go along with my report to Starfleet." At the mention of a report, Trip grimaced. "Starfleet'll probably wanna keelhaul my ass." "Relax. Officially, the two of you were attacked by a large animal on the surface, resulting in a number of serious, but non-fatal, injuries. I'm relieving you both from your regular duties for a week to let you recover." Trip turned back as if he were about to speak, but Archer cut him off firmly. "It's not up for discussion." The Chief Engineer looked away once more. The Captain downed his drink, then rubbed his aching temples wearily. "Look... there are no regulations that specifically prohibit crewmembers from forming intimate relationships, other than the whole officer/subordinate thing. But Commander and Sub-Commander are basically equivalent ranks so that's not really an issue. The Decontamination chamber will obviously need to be... repaired." He laughed quietly. "But that's your job anyway, when you're fit for duty again. So other than fudging my report a little - which frankly is the least of my concerns - I'd say that's the end of it. Officially at least." Archer hesitated a long moment. "But as your friend, I have to ask... how's T'Pol?" Trip looked down at the deck, worry creeping into his expression. "I left her asleep in her quarters. She's pretty out of it. The Doc says the next forty-eight hours will be the worst. I never imagined I'd see her so fragile... so emotional. The hormones are really messing with her mind." "For someone used to being in control of her emotions, it must be difficult to accept." Archer looked at him, somewhat uncomfortably. "You love her, don't you." It wasn't a question. Trip finished off his bourbon and nodded. "For a few months, I think. But now... more than I ever imagined possible." The Captain sighed heavily, his friend's words coming as both a relief... and a private condemnation. "I don't pretend to understand what's going on between you two. I'm not sure how much it's my business to know. Phlox has told me a little. I know that neither of you could have prevented what happened this afternoon. And that if you had, T'Pol might have died." Trip nodded, shuddering at the thought. "It's called pon frell. Vulcan men apparently go through something similar - pon farr - every seven years as adults. But women only go through it once... when they start to become sexually mature. It's like a matin' fever, I guess. Puberty on steroids. Vulcans are bonded as children to their future mates. And then, when the female enters pon frell, they marry." Archer looked at him confused. "But T'Pol isn't--" "Yes, she was. Remember those encrypted messages of hers I told you about? They were letters from her fiancée's parents, basically saying that if she didn't come home and get married pronto, the wedding was off for good." Archer glanced at him in surprise. Trip continued. "Believe it or not, T'Pol actually came to me for advise about it. I told her it's her life. That she should do what she wanted to, not what she felt obligated or pressured to by people she hadn't even seen in fifty years." The Captain suddenly understood. "She decided to stay on the Enterprise." Trip nodded. "I think that's when our relationship started to change. Not all at once. But slowly, from then on, things were different between us." Archer set his glass down, slowly beginning to realize that he'd never even had a chance. "The Doctor says T'Pol's been undergoing hormone therapy for a few months now to try to delay the onset of this... pon frell. But apparently it wasn't working." "Yeah, that was probably my fault too, at least partly. I kept pushing her buttons - trying to get an emotional response out of her all the time. And then..." he hesitated, unsure of how much he should reveal to the Captain. "Something happened to her on the Suliban Helix while you were gone. When they had us all locked in our quarters, there was a brief time there when I couldn't reach her over the com. I'm pretty sure Silik put her through hell trying to get information about you and Daniels." "She didn't mention anything to me in her report..." Archer began. Trip frowned. "She wouldn't talk with me about it either. But I saw her in her quarters later that night and... well, she was pretty out of it." Archer thought briefly about telling his friend of his own visit to T'Pol's quarters that night, and what he'd seen of her through Daniel's temporal discriminator. He quickly decided against doing so, though he felt more guilt for it. But if T'Pol hadn't spoken to Trip of what happened, it wasn't his place to do so. Though he'd suspected she may have been tortured, T'Pol had always managed to skirt the issue when he tried to broach it. Still, Archer would always be haunted by the pain and confusion he'd heard in T'Pol's voice. The Science Vulcan Directorate has determined that time travel is... not fair... He simply nodded as Trip continued. "Anyway, when she collapsed in the Mess Hall the other day, T'Pol... touched me. I'm not sure how to explain it. Somehow, she got inside my mind. She chose me." The two men stood silently for a long time, looking out at the view. Great flashes of lightening blossomed across the surface of the giant, which was now shrouded in darkness. Finally, Archer clasped his friend on the shoulder. "Well... I've known you for a long time. I think she chose well." And for the first time, he truly meant it. Trip looked at him gratefully. The Captain smiled. "Now, get outta here. You've got a Vulcan to take care of. And I've got a ship to run for a week without the benefit of my Chief Engineer and Science Officer." Trip nodded and turned to leave. As the doors opened, Archer called out. "One thing, Trip... if you show your face in Engineering or on the Bridge even once in the next week, I'll throw your ass in the Brig." Trip nodded again... and laughed softly. "Thanks, Capt'n."
Trip smiled warmly at her. "You were having a nightmare." Her voice was heavy with sleep and something else. "Vulcans do not have nightmares." "Well... it's probably all the hormones. Here... drink this." Trip held the glass as she drank deeply. When she was done, she looked up at him for a long moment with clearer eyes. "Did you speak with the Captain?" He nodded. "He's not reporting any of this to Starfleet." "But Ensign Sato--" "Hoshi's fine. Humans go through puberty too you know. I'm sure she remembers what it's like." "Pon frell and puberty are not the same." "No, they're not. The point is she understands. So does the Captain. Which is why I want you to quit worrying about them and try to sleep. Your body needs rest." T'Pol watched as he returned the glass to the bathroom. When he came back, she lowered her eyes. "Will you stay?" she asked softly. The sound of her voice almost broke his heart. Beneath her careful façade, there was a vulnerability to T'Pol that Trip had never seen before. Or never dared to see. "Of course." With that, Trip carefully removed his arm from the sling and stripped off his skivvies. Then he slid, naked, into her bed beside her. She immediately pressed her body tightly against him, and he was delighted to discover that she was naked too. Her body temperature was elevated due to her condition, and her skin simmered against his own. For her part, T'Pol found the contact with him to be greatly comforting, soothing to her frazzled nerves. Nestling her head into the crook of his neck, she laid a hand on his chest as if to prove her claim. Without a word, Trip pulled the sheets over them and began gently stroking her hair. In just a few minutes, her breathing became deep and even. Trip closed his eyes and let his thoughts focus on the warm buzzing that was her presence in his consciousness. Their minds mingled gently. And they slept.
Trip had learned much from reading through the ship's library. He'd learned even more from Doctor Phlox while he was getting patched up in Sickbay. It had been an uncomfortable discussion, but Phlox had said it was important that he understand what was ahead. Pon frell was a process that would unfold gradually, over a period of months or even years. The first few days were the worst, but T'Pol would need daily sexual contact with him in order to mature physically to her full potential. It seemed that when Vulcan women orgasmed, a small gland in the base of the brain released a bath of hormones into their bloodstream - hormones that their bodies needed to develop properly. But Trip had been surprised to learn that most Vulcan women were only able to experience physical release through the telepathic link with their bonded mate. It was an evolutionary quirk of Vulcan physiology that worked to strengthen and reinforce the mating bond. It certainly helped to explain the telepathic encounters he and T'Pol had been having for days now... and why she seemed so eager to experience them. It also meant that Trip needed to take a more active role in what was happening now. With more tenderness than he could ever remember feeling before, Trip moved his hands up to caress her face. Sensing his touch, T'Pol looked up at him with clouded eyes. Trip wasn't sure she even saw him, so completely lost in her need was she. He pressed his forehead against her own and gently opened his mind to hers. She accepted the telepathic contact, pulling him into her mind as frantically as she took him into her body. Trip immediately sensed her desperation. Her body was literally starving for the hormones it needed. And somehow, he just knew what to do, though he couldn't have explained it if he tried. He deepened the contact and began projecting his feelings for her into the meld. She gasped suddenly, as his actions had the desired effect. It was as if her body's arousal had been locked up just out of her reach... and now it was free. It burned through her in an instant. Sensations, emotions, feelings washed over her in a torrent and she was helpless to do anything but experience their full force. For a moment, Trip marveled at his ability to read her responses - to know exactly what to do to heighten her sensations. He'd always prided himself on being a good lover, but this was beyond just his own ability. This was new - part of the bond he shared with T'Pol. It was, as she might say, efficient. Trip knew she was close to the release she needed... and he was going to make damn sure she got it. He began moving inside her more deliberately, more deeply, increasing the friction and the pressure in just the right places. He slid one of his hands down to guide the rhythm of her movements, urging her on. And with the other, he began stroking one of her ears tenderly. Trip suddenly heard a sound that he would remember all his life - T'Pol was keening. Moments later, she cried out and her body jolted against his repeatedly. He experienced something of her orgasm through the meld, but managed to hold back his own - another benefit of the bond. Trip held her tightly, anchoring her to him as she slowly drifted back to their shared reality. Then she began moving again, her need apparently not yet satisfied. So he matched her movements again, driving her back up to the point of release and beyond. Their synchronized motions became so subtle that it was easy to continue them almost indefinitely - as long as she needed. Trip lost count of the number of times she came. Finally, after what may have been just minutes or long hours, she gave one last full-throated cry... of release, of deliverance. This time, he joined her, allowing his own orgasm to blend with, and heighten, her own. And then an overwhelming sense of relief descended upon them both. Making love with T'Pol was the most intimate, most sensual, most intoxicating thing Trip had ever experienced. He suddenly felt so relaxed that he was sure he couldn't move a muscle. Somehow he managed though, and began stroking her back tenderly. But then T'Pol's body began shuddering again - not from need but from something else. He touched her cheek and was stunned to find that it was wet. She was crying. Her eyes pleaded with him, conveying the words she couldn't say aloud... the words she couldn't even formulate. I don't understand this. I'm scared by this. Please help me. Trip knew that Vulcans experienced the same emotions Humans did, but he also knew that they kept them extremely private. Even more problematic, there weren't even words for some emotions in the Vulcan language. T'Pol had no context - no way to even begin to understand what she was feeling by herself. Fortunately, Trip realized that he could help her with that as well. Laying there, still joined together physically, Trip opened the archives of his memory for her to see. Then he carefully took each one of the emotions T'Pol was struggling with in turn and tried to show her what it meant. He tackled the negative ones first, getting them out of the way - fear, embarrassment, doubt, helplessness. And then he moved on to more important things. T'Pol suddenly found herself sitting on a beach with him, her skin warmed by the sun, her hair blown by the wind. They sat for long minutes, savoring the peaceful sound of the waves. One managed to reach far enough up the beach to tickle their bare feet. Trip smiled at her. This is happiness, he told her without speaking. T'Pol realized that it was not unlike what she felt sometimes during meditation. It was simply more... unreserved. Suddenly, they were in the middle of a gathering. Children were playing around them in the snow, which was falling to earth in big, heavy flakes. They were surrounded by the sounds of laughter and mirth, as the children cavorted in the white power, rolling in it, building with it, throwing it at each other. This is delight, Trip thought. T'Pol could easily imagine him joining in their activity. Then they were standing in the middle of a great desert, watching a group of men engaged in a game of some sort - a sporting competition. The object seemed to be to toss a ball through a target, using scoop-like wands to pass it to one another. She quickly realized that Trip was among the players, as was Captain Archer. Both men were sweating, shirtless and exhausted by their efforts. But they were laughing together nonetheless. This is friendship, Trip thought warmly. And T'Pol began to appreciate the bond between the two men. Soon, they found themselves in a crowded spaceport. T'Pol recognized it as San Francisco Interplanetary - this was the first place she'd ever seen when she arrived on Earth to begin her assignment at the Vulcan Consulate. As they watched, a young couple embraced desperately before parting, one leaving and one staying behind. Their expressions were sorrowful and there were tears running down the woman's cheeks. This is need, Trip said to her quietly. T'Pol was beginning to know this feeling well. Finally, they were back in her quarters again, lying in each other's arms. Trip leaned down and kissed her tenderly. T'Pol responded instinctively, melting against him as he spoke in her thoughts. And this is all of those feelings and more. This is love. After a long moment, her eyes widened in surprise. Trip saw the faint but unmistakable signs of a smile playing across her lips. I understand, she responded softly in his mind. And for the first time in her life... she truly did. |
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