Cry Havoc-Ch 13

Cry Havoc

By MissAnnThropic

Rating: Eventually NC-17
Email: miss_annthropic@yahoo.com
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.
Summary: The evolution of Trip and T’Pol’s relationship following the events in ‘Harbinger’.

Spoilers: “Harbinger”

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Chapter 13

Well into the day T’Pol worked alone in Trip’s room, currently seated at his desk as she studied the Jupiter Station repair and upgrade information. Between the time en route from Jupiter Station and her hours now of review she had nearly committed the details to memory. It was a welcome distraction, diverting attention from her niggling worry.

She had not seen Trip since this morning, since his exit following the news report concerning the Xindi.

T’Pol put down the PADD and inhaled slowly, resisting the impulse to rise and pace Trip’s childhood room as she had done half a dozen times already. She could not deny her curiosity as to his location any longer. She had tried to keep away from him, afford him privacy to deal with his emotions (and to shield herself from their full force) but she could no longer fight the compulsion to find him. She could not study her work a moment longer without knowing how he fared.

T’Pol wandered the house in search within a minute, not expecting to find Trip indoors, then went through the kitchen and stepped outside.

The back door opened on to a wood-deck patio, a short two steps leading down to the backyard. To the north she could see the line of trees that comprised the peach tree orchard of which Trip had spoken. It resembled a forest, shadowed and dense, aside from the perfect rows in which the trees stood. Toward the left of the unfenced backyard was a simple building, Charles Tucker’s workshop or barn where he electively tended to odd mechanical tasks. The occasional loud, unrestrained banging sound from within the building suggested Charles was in there at that moment, and he was still angry from this morning. Some distance from the front of the barn was another peach tree, a lone figure compared to the packed and crowded jungle to the north. T’Pol peered closer at the distant tree and recognized the shape sitting at its base. Trip, leaning against the trunk, Buddy sitting beside the young human while his master’s son pet him absently.

T’Pol did not cross to reach the tree because another person stood between her and Trip. About ten feet from the back patio was a simple rectangular garden of shriveled, wilted plant life. On her knees before the sad garden was Kathleen, her back to the house. T’Pol’s superb hearing could detect the muffled hiccupping and whimpering of human crying.

T’Pol frowned faintly to herself, uncertain what she should do, then cautiously she descended the steps and approached Kathleen’s quietly weeping form.

T’Pol came softly upon Kathleen, the human woman stifling sad noises, and T’Pol ventured carefully, “Professor Tucker?”

Kathleen startled and looked over her shoulder at T’Pol. Reddened eyes and tear-streaked cheeks greeted the Vulcan.

“T’Pol, I didn’t hear you.” Kathleen looked back down at her garden.

T’Pol waited anxiously, unsure if she should retreat or come closer. When no indication for either action came T’Pol awkwardly pressed, “Are you well?”

Kathleen huffed a bitter laugh and she sighed. “I never was a gardener, never had green thumbs.”

T’Pol’s eyes darted for a second to Kathleen’s hands in her lap, her humanly pink thumbs, then she dared moving closer. She came alongside Kathleen and knelt down beside the woman, before the dying garden. T’Pol could see the plants suffered from neglect, ignorance, but it hardly seemed reason to cry.

T’Pol offered, “If the state of your garden is this distressing perhaps you should hire a botanist to tend it.”

Kathleen laughed softly at that, bewildering T’Pol, and Kathleen at last looked again toward the Vulcan house-guest. “I’m not crying about the garden; I’m crying about Trip.”

T’Pol’s eyes moved instantly to Trip’s distant form then back to Kathleen.

Kathleen was also looking in her son’s direction, her expression wearied and sad. T’Pol had seen that look plenty on Trip’s face since the Xindi incident; the resemblance now unsettled T’Pol.

Kathleen shook her head and lowered her eyes... as well as her voice. “I’m just scared... scared I’ll lose my son. This mission the Enterprise is on, the Xindi...” Kathleen fought back another muted sob. “Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night scared to death I’ve lost him already.” Kathleen went quiet and T’Pol, for lack of knowing what else to do, waited silently.

“Trip and his sister were close... very close. Trip’s always been so protective of her; he is... was a great big brother to her. One time there was this older boy tormenting Lizzie in the school-yard... the only time I ever had to pick Trip up from the principal’s office for getting into a fight.” Kathleen pulled feebly at a withered, browned leaf from a garden casualty. “Trip is so kind, so innately gentle, but I know my son. He’s not above revenge, not when it comes to Elizabeth. As a mother it horrifies me to say that, but I know it’s true; he’s too much like his father in that respect.”

Another resounding clang of metal on metal echoed from the barn as though to illustrate the point.

Kathleen sighed. “I can’t lose both my children. I’ve lost Liz,” Kathleen’s face contorted and her voice cracked, “not Trip, too.”

T’Pol swallowed a swell of panic, distress, at the thought of Trip dying. It was a suddenly stark, vivid image in her mind that sent a lance of unVulcan-like fear through her. She felt more in common with this Earth woman in that moment than she had since meeting her.

Kathleen wiped her hand across her cheeks and sniffled. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

Kathleen gave a watery smile. “For being so human.”

“Your distress is understandable... even to a Vulcan.”

Kathleen smiled again, this time more warmly than sadly, and Trip’s mother nodded. She seemed to take something meaningful from their shared silence, then looked back down at her garden. She frowned as though in afterthought and muttered, “Damn eggplant.”

T’Pol raised a querulous eyebrow. She assumed it was fitting that the moment she felt she might understand some aspect of human nature she be proven wrong in the same breath. She had to exert some effort not to physically frown. At the moment, T’Pol found the unpredictability of human nature acutely annoying.

****

It was after midday before Trip seriously considered leaving his refuge beneath the peach tree. He’d been doing a lot of thinking, and in truth, most of it was not about his desire to make the Xindi pay for what happened to his sister. That desire was always there, always in him, requiring very little additional thought or attention. He figured that part of him would remain always, even when the Xindi were no longer a threat... it would be a part of him as long as he grieved the death of his sister, missed her presence in his life, and that wasn’t going to go away until Trip did.

The hours he’d spent in solitude (save for his ever-vigilant canine companion Buddy) were occupied with a parade of other various concerns, tenacious questions that he’d barely recognized or acknowledged before. It had been a long time, too long, since he’d had the chance to sit down and really think, to untangle the issues and circumstances that had twisted his life into the shape it bore now. It had been a long time since he’d had opportunity enough to stand back and see the mess.

But it wasn’t all mess. There were knots of confusion but also patches of clarity, certainty. It was a reassuring discovery.

So Trip had taken some time for himself, some time in reflection (if he’d only taken T’Pol’s efforts to teach him mediation more seriously he might have done this a month ago), untying the tangles until it was not quite undone but it was manageable.

Soon enough it became apparent he’d done as much as he could with a soul-searching session and time would have to sort the rest.

Trip sighed aloud. Buddy, who had laid down by Trip’s side and not left the human as though he’d sensed a troubled being, looked up at Trip from his patient post.

Trip gave the German shorthaired an appreciative pat then got to his feet.

Buddy was with him at once and leading the way back to the house. Buddy’d forgone his own lunch to remain with Trip, a valiant gesture on the animal’s part, but now that the session was over the dog was anxious to get to his much-neglected food bowl.

Trip found his mother in the kitchen when he came in the back door, Buddy barreling by with as much restraint as he could muster to head straight for his dish.

“Hey, Mom.”

Kathleen looked closely at her son as she said, “Trip...” her brow furrowed in deep concern, “are you all right, honey?”

“Yeah, I am.”

Kathleen studied him a moment, gaze searching, then she seemed to find what telling clue she sought. Her expression relaxed and she belatedly smiled at her son.

“You missed lunch,” she said. Thankfully, Charles had come around much quicker. He’d not missed a meal... one less thing to concern Kathleen.

“I’ll fix myself somethin’ later.”

“When you do you may want to fix T’Pol something while you’re at it. When I asked if she wanted to join us for lunch she said she wasn’t hungry.

“She’s been in your room since you... went outside.”

Trip nodded, unconcerned. “I wouldn’t read too much into it, Vulcans are very private. They can spend a lot of time alone. Still, I think I’ll go see what she’s up to.”

Leaving his mother, Trip crossed the kitchen and living room before coming to his bedroom door. He looked down and saw Buddy at his side, intently watching where the door met the doorjamb in anticipation of it parting. Trip smirked to himself, ‘T’Pol might not like dogs, but Buddy seems to have taken a shine to her, either that or she just confounds the livin’ hell outta him and he can’t leave it alone’, he mused in empathy as he rapped his knuckles twice on the door, waited a beat, then moved to open it. He imagined T’Pol was working; he just couldn’t imagine a Vulcan taking a vacation from duty for even a single day, much less two.

Trip eased open the door and was a little surprised to find T’Pol not at his desk. Instead she was sitting atop the comforter on the bed, right in the center, legs folded, her hands on her knees and eyes closed. It looked like meditation, but her eyebrows were drawn down over her eyes in a look of frustration, consternation, that was out of place on the unflappable Vulcan science officer.

Buddy nosed his way through past Trip and walked over to the bed. The dog stretched his neck to sniff at T’Pol’s near knee and hand.

T’Pol’s eyes flicked open and she shot a quick look at the animal. “Leave me,” she growled sharply.

It wasn’t a loud rebuke but Buddy caught the message all the same. Beating a hasty retreat, Trip and dog passed one another as dog left and human entered.

Trip looked after Buddy, taken somewhat aback at the outburst as he glanced back toward T’Pol. “Hey, ease off, T’Pol. He’s just bein’ friendly.”

T’Pol’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly and she asked, a touch of biting sarcasm lacing her words, “Perhaps I should apologize to him.”

Trip frowned as he reached the bedside. T’Pol lowered her gaze, taciturn, but still her body seemed to emanate tension, almost what Trip would call nervous energy.

Tempting the inexplicable but apparent wrath Buddy had had the sense to flee from, Trip sat down on the bed beside her and asked, “You all right?”

T’Pol took a breath, two, then nodded, “I’m fine.” Her voice was practically back to its normal, unemotional timbre. After a moment her presence softened and she moved her eyes in his direction. She did not look at him, but her gaze was directed more his way as she asked, “Are you?”

Trip smiled at the sentiment. “Yeah. It’s just... it’s still hard..” Trip trailed off and looked anywhere but at T’Pol. His eyes eventually settled on the family portrait on his dresser. He clearly had no intention of saying more on the subject.

T’Pol brought her eyes up to him, studied his face like she would a puzzling scan while he continued to stare at the image from his childhood. One of her eyelids twitched infinitesimally, her lips pressed barely together, and she managed once again to take the engineer off-guard.

“Why have you never talked about your sister with me?”

Trip looked sharply at T’Pol for the blunt personal question. T’Pol was watching him, looking almost as though she were accusing him of a slight against her, and Trip frowned faintly. “I have. I’ve told ya about Elizabeth.”

T’Pol pinned him with a stare before she said, “You’ve told me of her, that’s not the same.” A breath’s pause. “Corporal Cole told me you spoke frequently of your sister in her company.”

Trip’s befuddled expression slowly gave way to another frown. “Are you upset about that?”

“Of course not, merely curious. Why you had known Corporal Cole a considerably shorter amount of time than me and yet could tell her things you obviously felt you could not say to me.”

Trip made a face while T’Pol’s remained unremitting. ‘What the hell is she goin’ on about?’ he thought, ‘is she still jealous about me and Amanda? She can’t have been in here stewin’ about that all this time, could she? Vulcans don’t experience jealousy my ass!’

T’Pol, from her pointed stare, was obviously waiting for an answer.

“Because...” Trip began, trying not to get indignant at the cross-examination from T’Pol of all people, “Elizabeth’s an emotional topic for me. You’d already done so much for me... I figured you’d just as soon not have to deal with that. And Amanda asked about Lizzie.”

T’Pol’s intensity faded and she dropped her gaze again. “You resent that I have never inquired about your sister?”

“What? Where would ya get that idea? No, I don’t resent that ya never asked, I don’t expect ya to. You Vulcans do things differently than humans, I get that. I’m fine with it.” Trip sighed. “Look, T’Pol, I don’t know what this is all about, but trust me that even though you never asked me to talk about Elizabeth you did more to help me get through her loss than Amanda ever did or could.”

T’Pol did not respond but her confrontational air was utterly shattered by his words, as one duly chastised. Trip sighed and the two were cast into silence.

Quite unexpectedly, this time surprising T’Pol, Trip was talking. “She was two and a half years younger than I was. She loved pecan pie even more than I do; when Mom made it we’d always end up fightin’ over the last piece... and she usually won. Her favorite color was yellow. The hardest I’d ever seen her cry was when our dog Bedford died; she couldn’t have been but six at the time. We were always spendin’ time together, so every cold I got, she got, and she gave all her colds and flus to me; we’d both be on the couch in the livin’ room sick as dogs and still makin’ each other laugh. She was a gifted architect, always said she just wanted to make Earth a prettier place, one piece at a time. I think I always believed she would have, too, despite all the ribbin’ I gave her. She graduated top of her class from the University of North Florida in Jacksonville then moved down to Palmdale. She loved it there, said it was the kind of place to start if you were tryin’ to make the world a prettier place. Before the Xindi destroyed it, I think I might have believed that, too. I loved her... very much, more than I’d ever told her... and I should have when I had the chance.”

T’Pol fidgeted ever so slightly on the bed, would not bring herself to look at him, and said softly, “I apologize.”

“For what?” Trip asked, a little haggardly, emotionally drained from voicing so many memories, so many reanimated reasons to grieve.

“It was improper of me to question you in regards to your sister.”

Trip took stock and realized there was not a single part of him that resented her curiosity. “Nah... it’s fine. Just... T’Pol, if ya ever want to know somethin’ about me just ask me.”

T’Pol, for a scant second, seemed to lean slightly toward him, gravitate. Trip had a fleeting hope that it would become a tender hug, but predictably T’Pol did no such thing. Instead, she gave a broken nod and said awkwardly, “I will keep that in mind.”

Just like that, the moment was broken.

Trip rose from the bed, for a minute thoroughly derailed by the strange turn of conversation. “Anyway, I came in here ta see if ya wanted anything to eat; I was gonna fix myself somethin’, so...”

T’Pol returned to her rigid posture of relatively unsuccessful meditation. “I am not hungry.”

“Ya sure?”

T’Pol’s voice took on a hint of a hard edge again as she returned, “I prefer to meditate.”

Trip shrugged in surrender. “All right, I’ll leave you alone, then.” Trip turned to leave when T’Pol’s considerably kinder voice called out, “Trip.”

Trip turned to look at her.

T’Pol was looking at him, an unnamed something dancing in her eyes that almost drew him back to the bed to be beside her. “Thank you.”

Trip had a gut feeling she was referring to him sharing personal details about his sister that he held dear as opposed to offering to fix her lunch.

“Anytime,” he replied, smiled, then graciously left her alone.

****

Dinner that night was nearly identical to the night before. Each person sitting in the same places as before, Buddy a circling presence, a scavenging satellite with beseeching eyes and a wagging tail.

This night the conversation was carried almost entirely between the Tuckers; Kathleen, Charles, and Trip talking casually over grilled chicken, stuffing, and peas. T’Pol sat, recalcitrantly declining to contribute to the conversation, before an assortment of small bowls containing, respectively, rice, peas, and a miniature version of the salad she’d eaten the previous night.

Kathleen was regaling her husband, son, and guest with the story of a neighbor who’d recently attempted lawn-care without proper understanding of the mechanized equipment involved when the living room comm link began to chime shrilly for attention the tone of an incoming communiqué.

“Excuse me,” Kathleen stood and went to the view screen that served alternately as a television and two-way visual comm link. She pressed the accept button and was rewarded with the familiar face of Jonathan Archer.

“Jonathan! Well, this is a pleasant surprise.”

“Hello, Kathleen. It’s nice to see you again. You look well.”

Kathleen smiled. “You were always the flatterer, Jon, but it’s good to see you, too. I was telling Trip just yesterday how offended I was that you hadn’t stopped by for a visit.”

Archer grinned. “I would have loved to, believe me, but duty took precedence. Is Trip there?”

Kathleen nodded. “Of course, hold on a minute.” She stepped toward the dining room and raised her voice, “Trip, comm for you!”

Trip excused himself next from the table and mostly empty plate and went into the living room. He was obviously not expecting a call from his friend during their short shore leave. “Cap’n...” Trip took note of the suspiciously sterile gray and white walls behind the captain. He narrowed his eyes at Archer, “You’re on Jupiter Station, aren’t you?”

Archer chuckled. “Guilty as charged.”

Trip crossed his arms indignantly. “After all that flak ya gave me about wantin’ to stay on the ship?”

“Captain’s prerogative, besides, do you recall me once saying that I would be taking leave?”

Trip pursed his lips, unappeased. “When ya said ‘everyone’ I assumed that meant you too and you know it...” he glowered, sighed, then gave up. Despite Archer’s subterfuge, Trip was relieved to know someone from the ship had been keeping watch over her. “How’re the repairs and upgrades goin’? Any nasty surprises with my engines?”

“You can sleep easy, Trip, everything’s going well. Enterprise’s warp engines are whole and intact, I promise. Aside from a few last-minute items the restocking is almost complete and we’ll be ready to push off right on schedule.”

Trip finally turned to more congenial matters. “What made ya call if nothin’s wrong?”

“A missing crew member.”

Trip blinked. “It’s not even been two days, how can someone be missin’?”

Archer sighed and Trip recognized, even via subspace channels, a harried annoyance in the captain’s features. “I got a comm from Ambassador Soval at the Vulcan Consulate earlier today, he wanted to know where T’Pol was. I told him I thought she was at the consulate and he assured me she wasn’t. He’d already contacted the Jupiter Station quartermaster looking for her and when they couldn’t locate her Soval contacted me.”

Trip frowned. “Why does he want to know where T’Pol is?”

Archer shrugged. “He wasn’t very forthcoming with an excuse, I suspect he just wanted to keep tabs on her.”

“Why don’t ya tell the good ambassador it’s none of his damn business where T’Pol spends her leave?”

Archer gave a small smirk. “I did, more or less. I’m looking for T’Pol just to make sure she hasn’t literally gone missing. With the apparent animosity many humans seem to harbor toward Vulcans right now I didn’t want to dismiss the chance, however improbable, that she’s in trouble. I thought maybe T’Pol told you where she was going before you left Enterprise.”

Trip relaxed and nodded. “Just a sec, Jon,” and Trip trotted into the dining room to fetch T’Pol. The Vulcan, without questioning the summons, laid down her silverware beside practically untouched bowls of food and accompanied Trip back into the living room.

When she came before the view screen and saw Archer she greeted, nonplussed, “Captain.”

Archer took a second, obviously thrown. He clearly had not expected to find T’Pol at Trip’s parents’ house. He took in the sight of T’Pol in the Tucker home, Trip standing over her shoulder, then he found his voice again. “Well, I guess I don’t have to worry about kidnappers, unless Trip wrangled you and took you to Florida against your will.”

T’Pol raised an eyebrow.

Archer recounted the story he’d told Trip about Ambassador Soval’s apparent search for her.

“Since I no longer answer to Vulcan High Command my actions are no longer his concern.”

Archer looked up toward Trip at T’Pol’s snide, clipped comment, obviously surprised at the barely disguised venom in her tone and the thought clear on his face that T’Pol had been spending too much time around Trip. Trip managed a look of pride at T’Pol’s dismissal of the overbearing Vulcan diplomat.

Archer, concerns regarding his science officer allayed, said, “All right, then. Just as long as you hadn’t up and vanished on us. I hope you’re enjoying yourself.”

“You know better,” T’Pol remarked.

Archer chuckled. “I assume I can expect you both back early.”

“We were plannin’ on leavin’ tomorrow,” Trip forestalled any comment from Archer by adding, “Since you’ve been there the whole time don’t think you can tell us otherwise.” It was idle threat, of course, but only just. Trip actively wanted to get back to Enterprise, even if only a few hours early.

“Point conceded, last thing I need on this mission is a cranky chief engineer. I’ll let you two get back to your leave, then.” With that Archer cut off communications and Trip and T’Pol returned to the dining room merely in time to help clear the table and bid Trip’s parents good-night.

****

Early morning once again found Kathleen Tucker not the first in her home to be up. Even before she reached the kitchen she could see its light on, a single illuminated room in the darkened house. Closer still and she could hear the water running from the sink faucet.

Kathleen came into the kitchen to see her son at the counter.

“Trip?”

Trip looked over at her and gave a warm smile as he said in a near-whisper, “Mornin’, Mom.”

Kathleen glanced around for T’Pol, half-expecting to see the Vulcan woman awake and present as well, but a short visual search indicated that Trip was alone in his dawn activities. By the time Kathleen returned her attention to her son Trip had resumed his work at the sink.

Kathleen moved closer and saw what he was doing... washing fruit and vegetables.

To her unvoiced curiosity Trip said, “I went down to Hodge Farmers’ Market this mornin’ and picked up some stuff for T’Pol.”

Kathleen looked at the array of fresh vegetation. “Isn’t this a bit much? I thought you two were leaving today.”

Trip nodded. “Yeah, figured we’ll be leavin’ a little after noon, but what she doesn’t eat we can take back to Enterprise with us. Chef can put it in stasis, it’ll tastes just as good as fresh-picked. Chef works wonders with what he’s got but there’s not a lot of variety on the menu for vegetarians.”

Kathleen watched in silence a moment as Trip proceeded to clean carrots and celery stalks. Her eyes moved up from watching Trip’s hands to watching his face. The bud of concern blossomed once again in her thoughts.

Trip felt his mother’s eyes on him and looked over to see Kathleen looking at him, troubled. “What?”

Kathleen debated speaking a moment, wavered, then she confessed, “I don’t want to see you get hurt, Trip.”

“I know, Mom, but this mission’s important, you know that. I’ll be as careful as I can.”

Kathleen flinched but shook her head. “I don’t mean Enterprise, though that worries me, too. I meant I don’t want to see you get hurt... with T’Pol.”

Trip’s washing motions stopped and after a beat he methodically turned off the water, set down a tomato, and turned to face his mother directly. He leaned his left hip against the counter, heel of his left hand braced on the counter top, his eyes locked astutely on his mother’s face in the early morning hours.

Kathleen knew from the look on his face that Trip caught everything she’d neglected to say. The fact that Kathleen knew intuitively that Trip considered T’Pol more than just a friend.

Trip was stoically matching her singular attention, making no excuses, offering no defense.

Kathleen was secretly shaken by the sheer calm of his reaction. She’d expected nervousness from her son, embarrassment, the half-hearted denials of a smitten youth. Instead she got this, silence and unapologetic stillness.

It only heightened Kathleen’s maternal concern. “I’m... I’m not saying that it’s wrong.”

Trip straightened marginally and his expression grew a little guarded.

“I don’t care that she’s Vulcan,” Kathleen hastened to assure, “neither does your father... if it was only a matter of compatibility that would be one thing. I just... I worry that it can’t help but be more than that. Trip, she’s a Vulcan. Have you stopped to ask yourself where you could honestly see this going?”

Trip was non-responsive for several seconds. “Yes, I have.”

Kathleen studied her son. A serious gravity in his look made her think that indeed he had considered beyond the here and now, and still he defended his right to be with the Vulcan woman.

“I just don’t want to see you get hurt,” Kathleen reiterated gently while she mentally added ‘because I’ve never seen this in you before, and I fear how much it means T’Pol could hurt you’.

“It’s okay, Mom.” And that was all he said. No confessions of undying, star-crossed love, no justifications or rationalizations, nothing. Only ‘it’s okay’.

Kathleen watched Trip finish washing produce and silently hoped that her son was right.

TBC

Chapter 14

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Seven people have made comments

great chapter. i look forward to more of this

I'll be sorry to see them go back to ENT. I love reading about T'Pol's interaction with Trip's parents. Good observation there at the end by Trip's mom! Keep 'em coming!

Excellent, as always. Can't wait to read the next chapter!

I liked Archer's reaction. Also curious what Soval expected T'Pol to do.

I hope they continue their talk on bonding once back on Enterprise.

Uh oh..is Trip's anger affecting T'Pol..

I really love this story. I has me absolutely rivited. Please don't take long to continue (and I hope there's a lot more coming)!

Another great chapter!
Wonder what will happen when they return to Enterprise.
Please update soon!