Your Mom 'n Me - Part I - sec. 4

Your Mom n' Me

By John O.

Rating PG-13 for language and eventual sexual content - Romance/Drama/Series/AU
Disclaimer – Paramount owns the characters and everything Star Trek related. Unfortunately.

Spoilers: “Affliction,” “Bound,” maybe further but unintended.

A.N.: Notes are in the previous story. Hoshi and Malcolm have an interesting encounter. Captain Archer discovers the purpose of the hypospray carried by T’Pol’s attacker, but more questions are raised. All the while Trip prepares for the task that lies before him of saving her life. We also learn more about our new character.

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Part I – Startling Discoveries

Sec. 4 (Chapters 8 & 9)

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Chapter 8:

Hoshi’s face and neck were beaded with sweat, her hair nearly flung out of the bands precariously binding her exotic strands as they beat against her back with each impact. Her chest heaved chaotically, eyes stinging with sweat as she continued to rise and fall in unison with her partner. She followed his lead, matching his rhythm and quietly admiring his amazing stamina.

Malcolm’s breathing bore more control, his body of leaner shape and harder tone than the young Asian officer. Hoshi looked searchingly into her superior officer’s dark eyes, noticing his lips flinching with anticipation as they reached the breaking point. Their eyes followed each others’ as they rose and fell, hearts pounding harder and harder as the pair evenly neared their limit. Finally Hoshi couldn’t take it anymore as her voice exploded.

“Malcolm!” she screamed across the empty workout gym at her superior officer.

“All right, Hoshi, now raise five degrees,” he responded coolly. Her face contorted in simultaneous pain and disbelief, but she refused to stop and let him gloat over his stamina. She rolled her eyes and complied. He looked on her with a challenging grin, eliciting a staunchly unmoving expression from Hoshi. Arms now passing along her sides in more of a flailing motion than anything orderly, with great effort she pushed the controls to raise the platform.

The whine of the treadmill under Lt. Reed grew in pitch as his speed increased. The young communications officer responded in irritation and raised him one meter per second. Malcolm glanced to his right at her body and now noticed her hair had abandoned its clasp. It strangely painted her upper form with a new sultriness he had never imagined existed there.

She met his gaze with combativeness in her stare, her competitive stride pounding in time with his. Finally, as Malcolm’s legs felt they were going to give out and liquefy, a grimace tore through Hoshi’s feigned menace of a smile. She cried out and leapt off the treadmill, its motor still whining away in unison with the machine Malcolm now relinquished. Straining under one leg she held her right leg off the floor.

He jumped off his treadmill and ran to her side as she strained against the wall, one arm cradling the right knee.

“Hoshi! Are you all right?” he leaned down as if to inspect the injury, though he had zero medical knowledge to speak of. Somehow it just felt like what he was supposed to do in this situation, so Malcolm pretended to inspect the injury closely. He looked at it with a serious gaze, flicked his eyes up into her face to find a pain-stricken scowl. Just as guilt began to infect his mind, ah this was my fault, I pushed her too hard, suddenly Hoshi’s face changed dramatically.

An impish grin devoured the painful contortions of her face and her devilish dimples danced in victory. Malcolm was stunned, she had completely duped him and he never suspected it for a minute. He straightened up rigidly, put on a defying smirk. “I never believed it for a moment,” he snapped with British conciseness.

“I was just playing along,” he tilted his nose up at her as her lips drew together. She giggled at him, turning towards her gear in the corner. He grinned at her in return and turned to retrieve his sweat towel and gym bag.

“Well,” she called over her shoulder as she hoisted the bag onto her petite shoulders. Still freed from its confines, her dark hair flew through the air with her motions. The movement caught Reed’s eye as he took a gulp from his canteen. Drawing the container into the air, his eyes followed Hoshi’s movements as he reached blindly for the handle on his bag rather than turn his gaze away.

“That was pretty impressive, Doctor Reed,” she shot at him as she swiveled around. Reddening in humiliation, he dropped his head to chuckle at himself while lifting his bag in one swoop with powerful arms. Hoshi turned and approached him slowly. She casually ran a hand through her hair to straighten through the knots formed from the strenuous run.

Her eyebrows lifted, “So could you have performed surgery if I’d torn a ligament?” She poignantly let her mouth hang open in survey of Malcolm’s response. He said nothing but stood rigidly tall as Hoshi oozed towards him with a cocky smile, mouth half open while she twisted her eyebrows at him. Well, Huh?! , her facial expressions said to him. But he didn’t reply, just stared with dark eyes at her. When she was dangerously close, Malcolm was suddenly tight in the chest. But to his credit, he lacked the mental chaos that would have plagued him a year ago if a sweaty half-clothed woman approached him in such a way.

Not more than ten centimeters apart, the faces of the two inspected each others’ eyes for nearly a minute. The gym went gravely silent, their midnight workout now over, their friendly banter now ceased. Only silence and very little air stood between their lips.

Malcolm again fell into discomposure, searching wildly for what to say, what to do in this situation. Before he could implement any of the resolutions that drowned his mind, Hoshi’s demonic sneer fell into a benign girl-next-door veneer. She slowly regained a neutral smile, and quickly leapt forward to his cheek. The late night stubble of his skin felt rough against her lips as she planted the quick peck against the rock of his cheekbone. Malcolm was stunned but moments later as she turned to head for the door, he finally broke his pose and followed her. His thoughts dwelt on what had just happened; desperately hoping he didn’t look as surprised as he felt. He caught up with her at the doorway and they strode into the last corridor their paths shared before they forked to respective quarters.

Malcolm thought about what had just happened, dissected every mannerism and insinuation right up to the shocking kiss on his cheek while they walked quietly. A slight grin inched across his face as he recalled each detail, widening as he now recalled the shyness in her eyes as she pulled away. She had been afraid he would recoil, but only now in the memory of her expression did he realize it. He had been too detached to notice anything short of a core breach. Suddenly broken from recollection Malcolm realized Hoshi’s eyes were on him in a sidelong glance as he grinned like an idiot. He looked down at the shorter ensign to avert her gaze; sure that she would feel the discomfort and turn away. But as he looked directly at her they reached the fork that separated the remaining distances to their quarters.

She calmly returned his interrogative eyes without turning away, a coy smile tugging at her mouth.

“Goodnight En…Goodnight Hoshi,” Malcolm corrected his nearly official tone. She giggled and turned to retreat to let him ponder the meaning of the gesture. Turning, she let her small grin grow into a devilish smirk. Speaking the words to the empty corridor as she walked, she held the giggle from her voice.
“Goodnight Malcolm.”

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Charles Tucker sat hunched over in the uncomfortable chair procured for him while he waited to hear from Solkar on T’Pol’s condition. It had been hours and he still couldn't sense T’Pol. He hadn't been trying in the past few days but when he sought her out in his mind in sickbay and in the shuttle-pod, it had been a snap. It must have been the meld with Solkar, blockin' her thoughts from me so I can't interrupt, he thought. He was more than a little irked at being deprived of his right to check on her. He had grown accustomed to the idea of being able to make sure she was all right. It was the responsibility of he, and he alone - her mate, to ensure her safety by looking after her through the bond.

The bond had grown on him and he hadn't even realized it until now, until the silence of his own thoughts now felt like a cold stillness. To any normal human being out of billions, only havin' your own voice in yer head is the way it oughta be, but not for me, Trip thought. Not anymore.

Dammit where is she?

He stood up and paced the hallways for the third time in the past hour. He folded his hands behind his head, pumping his elbows back and forth and looking to the ceiling, exploring the corridor wall to wall. The Vulcan research facility was smaller than he had expected, very few were present - he had seen only three doctors besides Dr. Sevel, Solkar and Talkon. Trip now understood why Solkar lead the mission to meet T’Pol, bein' family and all. At the mention of T'Pau his defenses lowered towards Solkar even more, he had heard the Captain and T’Pol refer to T'Pau as a close friend of T'Les. One of these days I'd like to meet her, express my condolences over losing T'Les, Trip thought.

Just then, the door to T’Pol's recovery room opened, revealing an exhausted and drained looking old man. The vitality was washed from his visage; a disheveled shuffle replaced his graceful walk. Trip looked at him as he appeared to work up the strength to speak, then suddenly the man met his eyes and Solkar spoke with deliberateness.

"Her mind is... quite troubled," he said as he sought Trip's mind. Trip felt the tingle of Solkar’s thoughts touching his, revealing directly to his mind the disorder that plagued T’Pol’s. Trip was amazed that Solkar could reach out to his mind nearly as fluently as T’Pol could. He idly wondered if the aged Vulcan could speak to anyone’s mind, and how many Vulcans might possess such a powerful telepathy. I thought they were only empathic… Solkar went on, "Any other Vulcan in her place would recover more easily, however, the debilitating mental injuries she has suffered while aboard the Enterprise has... lessened her ability to facilitate her own recovery."

"You mean the invasive mind meld, the uh…'Pa-nar' sickness she had, her contact with Trellium in the Expanse.” Solkar looked at him intensely, studying the man who knew such intimate details of his granddaughter's life. Solkar had discovered in T’Pol’s mind the truth of her Trellium addiction, how desperately her emotions dictated her addiction to feel more for this human. But Trip’s meaning was restricted to attempted uses of Trellium to insulate the hull, and her initial lapse of control on the Seleya. Solkar believed Trip already knew of her addiction. The trust and compassion his granddaughter must hold for such a Human nearly awed him. Solkar searched for insecurity, for weakness in the engineer's resolve, for fault in his constitution... but found only intimate concern. The discerning Vulcan had spent over a century on Earth, learning the ways of human culture, the tremendous depths of their faults. In addition, more than most Vulcans, he also recognized the shocking highs of their virtue. In a few, Solkar rebuffed himself for trusting the young man too quickly. Solkar gave no audible response to Trip's questions, he only turned to walk the hallway, his composure renewed. Hands meditatively met at their finger tips, he waited for Trip to follow.

"T'Les spoke well of you, Commander," Solkar glanced at Trip's surprised expression. Addressing his confusion, Solkar continued, "I spoke with her following your visit to Vulcan with T’Pol after you returned from the Expanse." Trip's face revealed his emotions all over his face, a response Solkar's trained senses were quite attuned to.

"It troubles you that I was aware of T'Les' dismissal from the Academy. You believe my influence should have averted her dishonor," Trip lifted his eyebrows. Jeez, impressive telepathy, he thought. “And thus T’Pol’s coerced marriage,” Solkar added the detail that was now worming its way through Trip’s mind.

"Somethin' like that, yeah. I woulda figured you'd hold some power with the Science Directorate," Trip ventured. He wasn't sure when the conversation would turn to T’Pol's condition but decided Solkar would broach the subject when he chose to.

Solkar turned an eye at Trip, "Unfortunately, those in the Directorate working for former Administrator V'Las had me dispatched several days before they dismissed her," Trip noticed Solkar almost huff in disdain.

"I was misled and sent to a ‘peace conference’ which required my presence. The particular conditions of the region in which the conference was to be held did not permit contact with Vulcan. Once V'Las managed to unseat T'Les and force T’Pol to join Koss' family my mission was 'recalled’. I soon discovered there had been no conference. Once I returned to Vulcan, I learned of T’Pol’s marriage."

Trip was intrigued by V'Las' involvement, "What do you mean 'forced T’Pol to marry Koss',” his eyes shown with protective irritation.

“Why did the Administrator of the Vulcan High Command care who T’Pol married?" Suddenly Solkar stopped and turned to face the human. He observed him for many moments, Trip held his gaze dreadfully long. Trip began to feel like he was learning how to deal with Vulcans, just keep starin' 'em in the eye, he thought.

"The bond you share with T’Pol is powerful, Commander Tucker." Trip was surprised by Solkar's bluntness, but kept his mouth shut.

"I have seen T’Pol's mind, I know that you have been romantically involved for quite some time. And I understand,” he continued as he arched an eyebrow. “Perhaps better than you do, how difficult it has been for T’Pol to confront the emotions your romantic involvement has forced to the surface."

Tucker was taken by surprise, but before he could open his mouth to object the Vulcan slowly raised a hand in anticipation.

"Do not misunderstand. In T'Les' absence I am now responsible for T’Pol. My capacity in this matter is merely to ensure her safety and wellbeing." Solkar paused, awaiting Trip's nod.

"As I believe is your concern. I must admit Commander, when T'Les spoke highly of you I found it... curious." Trip's lips turned up in a light smile that Solkar observed quietly.

He continued slowly pacing the corridor, "I was intrigued by her account of your relationship with my son's daughter, however it was not until T'Les' death and T’Pol's subsequent absolution from ties with Koss' family that it became clear to me we would one day soon be having this conversation."

Trip looked at Solkar in shock and slight confusion. As if he had heard the very thought, Solkar turned to Trip once again with a stone countenance. He silently mused it was probably impossible to surprise the Vulcan.

"I hope you will not surprise me in regards to T’Pol, Commander.” Any hint of levity in the Vulcan’s face vanished as he stared at Trip with an iron gaze. The edge of what came from the Vulcan next could have cut through hull plating.

“Commander Tucker do you wish to severe the bond?”

Trip nearly let anger slip into his voice, “No!” Solkar was slightly startled by the young man’s intensity, and not just in his voice. His telepathy focused on Trip’s mind felt a whirlwind of emotion erupt in response to the question. Trip looked down and visibly chastised himself for snapping. His hands had involuntarily met his hips. They now relaxed to his hips.

“No, Professor,” he calmly repeated. “Not one bit.”

“Now that you are bonded with her and have chosen not to severe the bond I expect you to assist her recovery and serve in the same capacity as any Vulcan mate is expected." Trip looked utterly confused while Solkar observed him. This human is loyal to her, without deception...but not all together terribly perceptive.

“Without exception, Commander.” Trip held the Vulcan’s icy gaze for several seconds in terror before the lump in his throat was pushed down by his resolve to do whatever had to be done.

I’ll do whatever will help T’Pol but ya don’t gotta be so threatenin'…

"Commander if you are going to remain bonded with T’Pol then you must take on all responsibilities of a Vulcan bondmate, are you prepared for that, without question?"

In stillness Trip answered without waver, "Of course. Anything."

Solkar looked apprehensive but his mood lightened considerably as if he had accomplished an unpleasant formality. "Due to her previous infirmities it is not possible for any Vulcan - even me, to assist her recovery.” His glance left Trip’s face and wandered about the corridor, a mannerism Tucker recognized as shared by Soval.

“I believe a mind-meld with her Mate is the only way she can recover.” He paused, anticipating an emotional outburst. But Trip only blinked several times and Solkar felt him breathe out suddenly.

“Only a bondmate is capable of repairing the level of damage she has suffered. Achieving the depth of emotional contact and trust necessary to facilitate recovery is only possible through the Pudvel-tor." Trip didn’t understand the last word but assumed it had something to do with being bonded to T’Pol, so he didn’t ask. Solkar waited, studying Trip's response heavily. It was in this crucial moment that Solkar would decide the merit of the man, this human, who desired to make one of his bloodline his mate.

"I will do as I must,” Trip responded softly.

Solkar nodded and returned, "I will instruct you how to initiate the connection and what you must do to help her recover. I am unsure how readily your mind will receive training, however, T’Pol’s telepathic abilities will sustain the connection. It is only necessary for you to understand how to seek out her mind, and what to do once you are connected to her.”

The two walked silently for a few moments before Solkar continued. “I understand that you and T’Pol already began some meditation techniques to facilitate recovery aboard Enterprise?" Trip nodded. Solkar looked thoughtful, speaking lowly, "It is fortunate and... rather remarkable you were capable of the necessary disciplines without more advanced guidance."

Trip unconsciously rubbed his eyes. Solkar straightened visibly, "We will begin tomorrow. You and T’Pol must both rest. Tomorrow will be very taxing for you as we begin preparations. Even in her condition your human physiology will likely be capable of sustaining less neurological stress. It would be wise to get some rest. We can arrange quarters for you, however..."

Trip was finally beginning to pick up on Solkar's hidden meanings, "I think it would help to strengthen our bond if T’Pol and I share quarters.”

Solkar shot an eyebrow at him but Trip merely surreptitiously grinned, "No funny stuff, I promise," throwing his hands up in mock surrender. Regarding him with more curiosity than disgust as your typical Vulcan might at such an implication, Solkar merely nodded.

"It would be wise to delay the physical consummation of your Bond with T’Pol until she is well."

Trip gesticulated distressfully in panic, "No, no of course not, I wasn't serious, I was only," then suddenly Trip noticed a familiarity. A sidelong glance Solkar shot at him amidst his panic felt amusingly familiar. Trip's expression melted from frenzy to a smile as he flicked a finger at Solkar.

"Now I know where T’Pol gets it!" he chuckled, "You had me for a minute there," Solkar responded with only a jagged facial expression of slight intrigue. Trip backed away and gave the traditional Vulcan salute, chagrin still sticking to his face.

"Peace and Long Life," Solkar returned as the engineer jaunted down the hall towards T’Pol's recovery room.

As Professor Solkar withdrew to his quarters and the halls went silent, a veiled form emerged from a doorway in the shadowy corridor. The face of a Vulcan grimaced, itching vigorously at an eyebrow. The man then slipped away down the corridor in silence, having observed the conversation between the Vulcan and the Man.

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The meditation candle’s flame danced in the crack of the doorway as Trip slipped through, hoping not to wake T’Pol. If the strain on her was anything like the fatigue Solkar wore, he knew she would be exhausted. Trip stopped inside the door and carefully closed it in silence. He was intrigued by the old-fashioned swinging doors some rooms of the facility had. He gazed about the room, eyes adjusting to the single light source. The candle flickered rhythmically on a stand beside the far end of the room, against the wall. The bed was much wider than their standard bunks on Enterprise. Trip hoped as he approached T’Pol that she was more comfortable than on the rough beds in sickbay.

“Trip,” a soft voice called from the darkness. He inched closer and her eyes took shape in the darkness. They stuck out like almonds in the night sky as his vision adjusted to the darkness. Suddenly, softness captured him as he glided to her side and sat beside her.

“Hey,” he called with a smile, he was glad to see she did not appear too weary from the meld with Solkar. She cooed inside at his affections and he let out an audible sigh. Much of their trouble was finally behind them, T’Pol could rest and soon they would be brought closer together than ever before. In the back of his mind Trip asked himself why he wasn’t scared that he might not be able to do what was needed of him to help her. But when no answer came he was not filled with doubt and worry, only contentment. There was no fear in him, he knew, looking down at her that he would somehow help her… just like you helped me.

Her eyes looked into his, “Your involvement could endanger you, I would be distressed if you came to harm,” her voice fluttered with difficulty. He sent a hand to the rigid curve of her cheek, brushing down her jaw softly. This time she leaned into it, groaning deep in her throat at the tingles his soft and warm fingers sent through her body.

“Don’t worry,” he began to shove off his boots and pulled back the covers to her bed.

“We’ll face it together,” he pulled her close to him under the garments and held her hand firmly up to his mouth. The closeness brought his breath hot upon her skin, her chest rising harsher in response to the tingling under her silk sleeping garments. She began to lose control of her thoughts and wildly passionate imagery assaulted Trip as his chest came only inches from her heaving bosom. Her eyes began to cloud and his own breathing came shallow and burned in his throat. T’Pol, relinquished to entice him to make the move by her paralysis, opened her lips and allowed her tongue to graze their edges. Trip was lost in its movement until the fire of her stare drew his eyes away. From her supple lips and teasing tongue, he was caught in rapture by the storm of passion setting her face alight with desire.

Trip powerfully wrapped a hand around her waist and pulled her roughly into him, drawing her breath onto his chin and throat, driving him mad. He fought within himself, knowing this shouldn’t happen now, not yet. His arms weren’t responding to his conscious mind’s pleas, encircling her sculpted hips and massaging the small of her back. I gave my word to Solkar, we can’t right now babe… Trip called out to himself but also hoped T’Pol was still rational enough to heed his thoughts.

The inner conflict elicited a growl from his throat as he tried to tame the passion she was coaxing out of him like a firebrand stoking the flames. She drove his urge to merge with her like a merciless lash on the horse’s back. But he relished in the sting of her whip. T’Pol was nearly snarling now, lower teeth were exposed as her clenched jaw ripped her lower lip into a fervent arc of passionate hunger for his taste. The raw desire in her beamed at Trip as he squeezed the small of her back with his powerful grip. Her body glowed like a sweltering coal deep within the furnace of the passion that had now consumed the room, enslaving their senses.

“We have,” Trip panted, “to stop,” he could literally taste her in their proximity. The bond had grown to a nearly complete mental lovemaking, wild and erotic thoughts exchanging between the two. They were already both drenched in sweat as though rigorous intimacy had already engulfed them. The fire of their minds reaching out to one another drove their bodies to the brink of excitation. Finally, Tucker began to harness the immutable hunger building in his mind. He could sense that his last chance to reel in his control was quickly passing. With all his might he passed relaxing thoughts to T’Pol, clenching his eyes shut fiercely, soothing her disappointment with promises.

I’ll make it up to ya darlin’

“But we can’t here, we can’t now,” he finished as his eyes opened to see her breathing slow. Her eyes were still filled with desire but he could feel her self control through her thoughts trying to regain a foothold. Doing everything he could to help, he brought his hand off of her back, latching it around hers between their bodies. Stretching out his neck, he implanted a chaste kiss on her forehead, tasting the tang of her sweat. He looked into her face and suddenly felt the sweat drip from his eyebrow onto the sheet.

A chuckle escaped his throat as he lightly petted her cheek, not too sensually to avoid another breakdown.

I don’t know what in the hell just happened, but I’m exhausted, I feel like we just…

The sternness of her cheek returned and Trip could see that T’Pol’s body had relinquished to her logic’s control.

“In a manner of speaking,” her eyes sought his chest, “we did.” Trip looked confused but decided he would undoubtedly understand in the future. They were no doubt going to be spending a lot of time exploring their connection together. Now wasn’t the time to be baiting her with questions, he thought, she needs her rest.

“Sleep now,” he cooed, petting her forehead. Recapturing their self control, neither of them feared snuggling closer. Trip let her decide how close she felt comfortable with him, after all, he thought, this is the first time we’ve actually shared a bed. He was unsure how far to take this intimacy thing with her just yet.

In answer, T’Pol clumsily but nonetheless accomplished her goal and nudged a leg over Trip’s. With difficulty she finally came to a rest atop his heaving chest, her head resting in his neck. Curling her fragile form into his trunk like a kitten seeking shelter and safety; she quietly dozed, breathing his scent long into the night.

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Trip woke slovenly with T’Pol’s head tucked under his left arm, her hands wrapped around his midsection. With a gentle squeeze she informed him she was awake, drawing his eyes to meet hers, the predawn glow pouring through the window. Trip had been surprised a Vulcan facility would have windows, artificial light seemed more ‘logical’ to equally illuminate a room. However, this room alone allowed for the small traces of the rising golden orbs’ rays to sneak across the bed and floor.

You should continue to rest, it is still very early and your instructions with Solkar will be quite draining…I do not want you to be harmed trying to help me, t’hy’la.

Trip eased a soft smile at her, lowering it to meet her slightly upturned lips in the silence of the predawn hours. “Mmmm,” he savored her skin’s warmth against his lips.
“You make it so easy to say yes,” he grinned sheepishly into her lips, never breaking contact with them as he spoke.

T’Pol relished the feel of his kiss, the closeness of his face, focusing intently on reciprocating but her lips ignored nerve signals. A light whimper instinctively escaped her under his kiss as she fevered to give to him her heat in return. But the delicate muscles she sought to writhe against his kiss would not budge. Trip pulled away to find what amazed him, a sad face. He was not yet aware that the bond created recognitions of the feelings behind her face, even if her expression showed no signs.

She could never be as happy with another mate, and Trip was never so completely at peace with himself as when he realized that, sharing her bed in the Vulcan hospital. But the distress he felt disconcerted him. While public affection remained out of the question, T’Pol was thoroughly upset that she could not reciprocate his affections in their privacy.

When I am well, you will receive.

Trip was startled by the stampede of imagery, even a little frightened as his neck flinched at her mental onslaught. A smirk stared down at T’Pol’s hungry eyes.

“I guess I’ll just hafta give to you for a little while longer then huh?” Trip dove in to continue. After several minutes of pleasing his Vulcan’s lips, Trip slid himself into the pit of her arm and tucked his face against her side.

Looking up at her with a warmth and peace like a babe in his mama’s arms, Trip cocked a boyish smile at her before nuzzling into her bosom. Slinging his arm around her waist as he had awakened to find her, Charles Tucker and his Vulcan mate rested. Soon their lids fell, and they sank in each others’ arms to doze the remainder of the morning.

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He could not rest. Few times in his one hundred and ninety-six years had the contemplative trance Solkar now lie in been invaded by any hint of distraction. His conscious mind submerged into such ordered meditative rest as few Vulcans have ever achieved. However, the Kohlinar Master now found his control infected with a bout of illogical emotion. His contact with the chosen mate of his fore daughter disrupted the logical flow of his meditation. Concern for his kin was tantamount, yet the logical explanation for his motives floated transparently across the spyglass of his mind and he saw straight through them to the truth. He wished her happiness. It is not logical to express happiness, thus not to encourage an exploration of such an emotion.

His thoughts however, continued to betray nearly two centuries of logic. In a moment of clarity, his emotional thoughts finally spoke in one voice. T’Pol was all he had left. His eldest son, her father, was dead. The youngest son of Solkar, Skon, was a brilliant and respected scholar of Vulcan destined to be held in honor for many centuries to come. But he was now middle aged by Vulcan standards, nearly one hundred ten years, and his father was a rare contact in his life. His oldest son Soval had not spoken with him for many years. For all his life, Solkar required much discipline and meditation to overcome the powerful emotions he felt for his sons. Recalling T’Pol's father's death his thoughts wandered, my logic is uncertain where my son is concerned. And now my fore daughter.

For many decades he successfully held them in check. However, many hours of studying the teachings of Surak in the Kir'shara unnerved his control, revealing the emotions buried beneath a century of discipline. It was the Kir'shara which prompted Solkar to realize he... miss my sons. That the presence of offspring to be educated, protected and assisted through the trials of life left an unpleasant absence to him. Of all his many sons and fore sons, daughters and fore daughters; he would look at them as they aged into maturity and realize they did not share the fondness he struggled to deny himself. Except T’Pol. It was her failure to achieve Kohlinar that drew Solkar to assist her meditation. T'Les had requested his assistance while his son did not wish it, a rejection Solkar struggled to understand for many years. Upon countless days of meditation, Solkar discovered the same hidden and constantly troubling emotions deep within T’Pol. It was with her and her alone among his many fore children that a truly powerful familial telepathic bond could be formed, for only she understood the turmoil within him. When he became aware that T’Pol's life was in danger, meditation became difficult; his emotions slowly rose closer to the surface. Now watching over her with vigilance, his son's daughter elicited both a departure from logic and a powerful devotion. With a single-minded concern for her wellbeing, meditation revealed to Solkar that the surfacing emotion could be channeled rather than buried - strengthening rather than tumultuous.

Suddenly his thoughts turned to Commander Tucker. Many in the High Council and Science Directorate who knew or at least suspected their involvement were shocked. Many were disgusted that a Vulcan would choose to associate in such a way with a volatile human being. Experience with humanity had taught Solkar to be cautious but open-minded when judging humans. The generalizations made by many of his race he found to be flawed in his century of diplomacy on Earth. He would require more investigation of Charles Tucker to assess his worth. It was only partial truth which drove Solkar to advise Tucker the completion of the Bond should wait until T’Pol was physically healed. He knew her mental faculties were more than sufficiently sound to consent to consummation of the Bond, however - and this is what troubled his logic. I must approve the man who will Bond with my fore daughter. His logic faltered. He must make her happy...

In a quiet, dimly lit cabin of clearly Vulcan decor (or lack thereof); Solkar’s meditation was broken by a powerful premonition. What began as a light facial twitch exploded into an airborne Vulcan and a kaleidoscope of flying robes. With remarkable agility he sprang from meditation, fluidly sought the contents of a drawer across the room and disappeared through the door.

A spark of danger in his terribly powerful Vulcan mind sent his mind and body on a quest to T’Pol’s quarters with singular purpose.

In the hours of early dawn, the elderly Vulcan flew down the corridor from his cabin with the speed and power of a Vulcan one third his age. Only vestiges of conscious thought meandered through his mind as the Vulcan now stood before T’Pol's room. But he was far from out of control. On the contrary, his every motion spoke of icy calculation. He quickly pushed the door open with his empty hand. The door slid aside. Inside, he took in a Vulcan’s face as it twisted to meet Solkar’s eyes. As they burned like tempered iron, no hint of twenty decades of weather could be seen. Dr. Sevel stood opposite the room, near the window at the side of the shared bed. Faces in peace, the sleeping pair obliviously breathed in unison as the man hovering over T’Pol looked at the robust Vulcan that now seemed to fill the spacious doorway. The face on the man near the bed fell from its Vulcan emptiness into a violent grimace. Solkar stood motionless until Sevel, in one swift movement, pulled a hypospray from his pocket and lunged at T’Pol. Before his arm could reach the peak of its arc an energy pulse from the phaser in Solkar's hand knocked him into the wall, limbs flailing as the hypospray flew through the air. The commotion hit Trip like a plasma shock, bolting him from a deep slumber to a catlike frenzy as he leapt from the bed. Sevel looked in panic from T’Pol's now wide eyes to Trip's white fists brandished in front of a menacing grimace. Neither, however, were as daunting as the outstretched phaser and icy Vulcan face stepping slowly into the room.

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The familiar high pitched whine of an energy weapon pulled Trip from a wonderful dream with T’Pol. The warm beach evaporated as the recovery room fell in around him and he suddenly felt the floor beneath his feet and the blood leaving his knuckles. The sound and sight of Dr. Sevel being flung into the wall now caught up with his conscious mind as he stood ready to defend his mate at any cost. His whole body burned on the inside with the heat reminiscent of the desert planet he was marooned on with Zocan. Fists clenched in fury and a ringing filling his mind, a handful of moments dragged on endlessly. In each fraction of a second, Trip felt each reverberation of his heart beat, became conscious of every bronchiole pushing oxygen through his body. A stream of crimson crept from the palm of his outstretched right hand down the length of his muscular arm, but there was no pain with the drawn blood.

Suddenly, and as quickly as the dilation of his senses had drawn over him, it passed and the room lurched into motion. His breathing became chaotic and his heartbeat irregular and unpredictable. Trip nearly collapsed under some unknown weight, T’Pol’s eyes grew wide as he fell to the floor near the bedside, out of her restricted view. Sevel dropped something as he fell into the wall, looking at T’Pol and then at a figure in the doorway. Trip clutched his chest with one hand, steadying his wired body on the cold tile floor with the other when he suddenly became aware of Solkar's presence. He peered up at him through raspy breathes, shocked at the man approaching him with the phaser pointed at Sevel. Stepping slowly into the room, decades seemed lifted from his face. A vigorous man of power stood in the frail old Vulcan's place and Trip thought for a moment the sternness of his visage would knock him over with the power of a concussion wave. Holding a phaser, Solkar came closer, eyes held on Sevel. Sevel crouched against the wall where he had been stunned, and slowly rising to his feet he slipped a finger under his right sleeve. A rapid tone rang out from a device concealed beneath the robe and Solkar fired again. But the weapon left only a charred hole in the wall as Sevel's form evaporated into thin air.

The three were silent for moments before Trip struggled to his feet. "What the hell was he doin'!?" Solkar exhaled and the years returned to his face, lowering his phaser, he met T’Pol’s eyes.

Moving to retrieve the hypospray, Solkar frowned and finally answered, “I do not know.” He examined it carefully before turning to T’Pol.

“You are unharmed, child?” he asked with lifted brows.

“Hai, Tela’at,” T’Pol assured him. Trip looked at Solkar and T’Pol in uneasiness, slightly upset that he didn’t understand her. T’Pol winced inside, moved her eyes to Trip.

I told him ‘yes, honored elder’. It is the appropriate title for my forefather.

Oh, I wish you’d a told me. I’d like to respect your customs. T’Pol –

Solkar interrupted as he passed gracefully across the room to speak with Trip, “Commander I will begin instructing you in order to initiate the meld with T’Pol, after the morning meal. I will have one of the assistants bring food for you both.”

Solkar turned and walked towards the door, his calm demeanor replaced the warrior that emerged from the old man moments before. Hands joined at the fingers in front of his waist, he stopped short of the door and turned to the pair.

“I require meditation before we begin. I will contact the Vulcan authorities to begin an investigation regarding Dr. Sevel, but you need not concern yourselves with that. T’Pol, after the meal I recommend that you instruct Commander Tucker in a form of relaxation meditation…” his face seemed to fill with trouble. “I am unsure how readily his mind will receive my instructions,” he hesitated.

“You must proceed, Commander, aware that there are risks since you are human. The human mind is not the telepathic entity the Vulcan mind is,” Trip nodded solidly, recalling the oath he took to Solkar the previous night. T’Pol acknowledged her forefather’s request with only a look.

She was surprised by the sudden resolution she felt in her mate at the mention of this, a small fear of inadequacy tiptoed in the recesses of his thoughts, but it was dominated by his dedication. She had never felt such solemnity in him, the reverberation of it through the bond roused emotions she had trouble identifying. ‘Awe’, perhaps? She had always known he was a brilliant engineer, and recently came to know he also had a kind heart – but the recognition of those traits paled in comparison to this. She had begun to predict his actions, his behavior; and that suited her nature; she liked to know what to expect. But suddenly she was enamored of the feeling this surprise brought. Realizing there would be many things they would learn about each other in the coming future, she waited impatiently for the next discovery. with completion of the bond…

She was pulled back when Trip winced at his hand, realized that blood covered the appendage and the three deep cuts on his palm still bled. When T’Pol glanced at Solkar’s back as he exited, he stopped and turned his head only slightly.

“I will send bandages and medical ointment with the meal,” Solkar nodded.

“I don’t understand what happened, I was jus’…enraged, I couldn’t even think straight, next thing I knew I was bleedin'.” Trip looked incredulously at his hand, then down at T’Pol who glanced at a silent and still Solkar lingering short of the doorway. He was now turned full towards them.

“Wait a minute, I know that look. You two know something.” The silence continued as Solkar frowned slightly.

Initially he was only confused, but the darkness of Solkar’s face suddenly worried him.

“Quite right, Commander,” Solkar faced them sternly. “I believe what you experienced was the onset of Kun-ut-klashausu,” Solkar silently deferred to T’Pol to translate. Trip doubled back at her, craning between the two like a confused dog.

It roughly means ‘mate guardian’, it is believed that in the Ancient times on Vulcan when a bond-mate was in violent danger, a psychological fever not unlike in intensity to the mating drive of Pon Farr, takes over the mate and drives him or her to protect the mate. It has not been experienced for a millennium, we have become peaceful and learned to control our emotions. It is not common for a mate to be in violent danger from another.

Trip almost scoffed when he realized he was nearly becoming Vulcan. Vulcan mating bonds, Vulcan mating rituals, Vulcan meditation, Vulcan psycho-attack mode! He resisted the urge to complain in front of Solkar and merely nodded as Solkar then turned to exit. When they were alone he approached her bed, replete with anxiety and T’Pol sensed it. He sat on the bedside, his eyes oppressively weighing on her with tension. She recalled she hadn’t seen him look at her this way since he was upset with her in the Expanse.

Sensing she understood what he was going to say he started without delay. “This is just a little hard for me T’Pol, I mean,” slapping his hands on his legs. He let out a loud sigh and looked at her face, letting the corners of his mouth turn up as he realized he wasn’t mad at her.

I know you feel no anger towards me.

Throwing his legs up onto the bed he leaned his head on a folded arm and looked at her sincerely.

“I just feel like I’m turning into a Vulcan here,” he rolled his eyes. Her eyes blinked several times when he continued, “not that I’m sayin' there’s anything bad about bein' Vulcan, ah” he paused his stuttering apology.

I can’t seem to get this right in words. Lemme try it like this. I’m not knockin' your ways, your culture, hell, the fact that I didn’t know what you two were sayin' made me wanna know everythin' about it! It’s just strange, I’m a human and yet I’m experiencing thousand year old Vulcan psychotic episodes, I’ve formed a bond with you and healed your injuries, I- I ‘m just a little scared of where it’s goin' is all, scared of not bein' human anymore.

“But mostly,” he returned in speech. “I’m scared that I -” he choked a moment and T’Pol’s eyes drew into concern. “I’m scared that because I’m human, no-” he faltered again. It was clearly difficult to admit the truth of his fear, but T’Pol felt it in his mind.

If you wish, the bond can still be severed after you assist my recovery.

I’m tired of this T’Pol, I don’t want to end this either, I’m damn crazy about you! Your Vulcan side has to be telling you I couldn’t have formed this bond with you if I didn’t want it. I’m just scared of tryin' to be a member of a race I’m not when so much is ridin' on it, what if I screw up, what if I can’t save you? I …I couldn’t live with myself T’Pol! What if a Vulcan mate could save you, he would understand what –

She hadn’t seen him this distraught since his sister’s death. He formed the words he could not make in thought, “he would understand your forefather, your ways, your culture, he could take care of you!” T’Pol’s eyes brimmed when Trip’s voice lost control through new-falling tears, “What if I can’t T’Pol, what if…” his head fell to his hands. Her control shattered, T’Pol gave in to all the emotion assaulting her soul.

Oh, t’hy’la…!

With glassy eyes, T’Pol ached to reach out and surround him. He sensed it and dropped his arm from his head, taking her cheeks in his hands and cradling her gently. The warmth in her eyes drew him in, moments later their foreheads softly met. Two soft tears dripped from her lashes, trickling down her nose and falling upon his face in contact.

I sense your strength Trip, it has washed over me! I can feel your determination Trip, you will not give up on me and I will never want another, I would die with any mate but you! I would abandon my culture, declare the Ktorr skann and sever all of my family ties, forever leave Vulcan. If I could I would change my very race to be human to remain your mate! I would have no other!

Were her thoughts vocalized they would have risen to a scream with the destructive force of emotion attacking her. Her nostrils flared, eyes glowing wildly. Trip felt tremendous emotion from her: loyalty, fear, arousal, but most powerfully - love. The tremendous proximity of her, the hot breath landing on his throat was definitely not lost on the Commander. His pants became very tight and he realized his right arm was now wrapped around her waist, drawing her much closer and tighter into his body. Something cried aloud in his mind, however, and Trip stepped back from what was about to happen and realized they were both dancing dangerously close to losing control. He lifted a hand from her jaw, wiped the tears from his eyes and looked deeply into her.

T’Pol, I wanna be worthy of those feelings, I wanna be worthy of you. I wanna learn about it, Vulcan, the language, all that stuff, it might help me understand you better. And it’ll make me feel more... adequate. I’m so afraid of losing you because I can’t be enough in this meld, T’Pol!

The lukewarmth of his promise passified the passionate rage that had boiled deep inside her.

You have always had faith that I would learn to live with humans. Now I have faith we can meet the challenges of our clashing cultures, but Trip you have to believe in us. I – I will die without your affection, you must have faith in yourself if only to help me...

Without words he collapsed into her arms and lowered his face into her neck, laying one long, soft kiss just above her collar bone. A great wave of tension evaporated from the pair, and many minutes passed before either moved. Against the warmth of her skin his lips held silent but his heart broke the silence.

I could never let anythin happen tah you. I’ll do anythin to stay like this forever.

That would be agreeable. But first, we must eat.

She arched an eyebrow at the door and Trip leapt out of the bed, partially in deference to T’Pol’s sensitivity about public affection. He also he wanted to make sure and kick the Vulcan out before he got any ideas about feeding T’Pol himself. He turned his head to look at T’Pol in a vein attempt to hide the wiping motions as he cleared the dried tears from his face. T’Pol’s amusement was clear to him, smirking at her he explained, just not in fronta the Vulcans he snickered.

The Vulcan set one tray to the side, Trip’s, and approached T’Pol with another in his hand.

“Thanx,” Trip nodded to the Vulcan who attempted to sidestep him. Throwing a foot in front of him, “Ah, it’s all right, that’s not necessary, I’ll feed her,” Trip gave a weak smile. The Vulcan looked at him strangely, set down T’Pol’s tray and pulled a package from his robe.

“Commander Tucker you are injured, I have been instructed to set your bandages,” his voice level and measured. Trip attempted, in futility, to ascertain what this Vulcan thought of his company with T’Pol. He held his arm out, looking back at T’Pol to avoid eye contact with the young doctor, his secondary motive to hear her thoughts on the man. As the wound was cleaned, the calculated face glanced ever so briefly at Tucker. At this, T’Pol’s gaze shifted from Trip’s to the Vulcan and Trip looked back at him. The Vulcan tightened the bandage, too roughly for Trip’s taste.

“Ow!” he complained and shot the Vulcan a boyish scowl, testing his reception of human emotion. The response was as blank faced as Trip had ever seen a Vulcan, but he interpreted the lack of a grimace to be a good sign. Even Vulcans had facial expressions for every mood, between Solkar, Soval and T’Pol – Trip was beginning to learn how to read them when others saw only blankness. Little did he realize at the time that his chief contact with Vulcans all came from the same bloodline.

Even context could give meaning to the blankness the assistant bore, as Trip observed in the young doctor’s face. His blankness meant amusement, and T’Pol proudly concurred with Trip’s assessment. The Vulcan departed without comment.

Trip shot T’Pol a guilty grin and moved to close the door. Solkar had left it open in anticipation of the meal’s arrival. But Trip wanted to spoon feed his mate in privacy.

He brought the tray to her bed with a boyish smile, “Ya know I did this once for mah mom, she was sicker’n a dog and my dad was outta town on business. I was just happy to get outta goin to school for a day.” He chuckled, placing the tray carefully on her lap and taking the Vulcan utensil.

“In light of such truancy it is remarkable you became such a successful Starfleet engineer, ” T’Pol shot back. Smiling as she surreptiously complimented him, he laughed while endeavoring to manage a small blob of the orange goup into the strange looking utensil.

Strategically guiding the sustenance to her mouth to avoid dropping it on her and getting berated, Trip’s hand finally arrived at its staunchly closed destination. He cocked a ‘mother-hen’ look at her, wordlessly insisting she open up. Her lips mechanically parted to allow the food entry, closing down as Trip pulled the utensil from her lips and admired her pretty mouth. Not in a sexual way, he paused in motionless adoration as she chewed. Suddenly her stare brought him out of it and she raised an eyebrow, searching his thoughts for arousal behind his stare.

Pretty lips, is all she heard.

He chuckled, reading her thoughts and noting her expectation, “Sorry to disappoint ya.” He loaded up another mound of the orange globular food into the spoon-like tool.

“I was just thinkin they’re pretty’s all,” he quipped, slipping the Vulcan-spoon into them again and smiling softly as he enjoyed feeding his mate the rest of the morning.

Chapter 9:

Jonathan Archer stood before the private communication screen in his quarters, his eyes bulged nearly out of his head.

“ Attacked?! By who?” The calm Vulcan on the screen shifted at Archer’s boisterous inquiry.

“We have been unable to identify the assailant. We are currently investigating the incident.” Archer blinked, waiting for more information. Containing a heavy sigh, he realized even the former bearer of the Katra of Surak would have to go through the same dance with the Vulcans. Even T’Pau… Archer realized with some disappointment that his acquaintance to the new head of state wasn’t helping him get information.

“You said he tried to inject her with something?” T’Pau tensed at the repeated question, “That’s correct. We are analyzing the compound. We will inform you of our results when we have them.” Archer choked back a chuckle at the Chancellor’s waveringly controlled irritation. He raised his eyebrows and forced a smile.

“I would prefer if you could send a sample of the substance and allow Phlox to analyze it as well. We could beam a small sample onboard.” Rarely as it happens, a Vulcan gave in. Slowly blinking, T’Pau acceded.

“Very well. Perhaps our combined efforts will yield more expeditious results.” Archer nodded with a real smile this time and raised his hand to salute.

“Live Long and Prosper, Captain.”

“Chancellor.”

The screen went dark and Archer’s hand fell to his side. He dropped into his office chair and hit the communication panel, “Archer to Phlox.”

“Here, Captain!” Phlox answered strenuously after several moments delay. The sound of a Pyrithian bat’s shriek filled the speaker around the Doctor’s fledgling voice.

“Uh, Phlox, do you need some help down there?” a laugh escaped him as he tried to stifle it. He suddenly forgot the pain in his ass the Vulcans had been on getting information about T’Pol. They’d actually had the nerve to issue the information on what happened to T’Pol through some damn junior adjutant, Archer recalled. Regardless of how many aids and assistants it took to speak with T’Pau, an image of Phlox barreling across sickbay with a three-meter fly net replaced the irritation with a grin.

“Ah, no Captain, thank you! I believe I’ve got her under control,” the background noise ceased with the rattling of a metal latch.

“Ah, now what can I help you with?”

“I wanted to let you know to expect a bio-sample from the Vulcan Ministry of Security. T’Pol was attacked this morning in her dormitory and-”

“Attacked?!” Phlox’s appalled response mimicked the Captain’s. “Why wasn’t I informed immediately, as her physician I MUST know when grave changes in my pati-”

“Phlox, Phlox, she’s fine,” the Captain raised his hands in calming gesticulations as if the Doctor were before him in the cabin.

“The assailant was subdued by Professor Solkar before he could inject T’Pol. There was some kind of hypospray. He dropped it when he was shot, it had some kind of bioengineered compound the Vulcans can’t identify. They should be sending you the data they’ve collected. I even managed to get them to send a sample of it, see if you can’t beat ‘em to the punch so we can figure out who this guy is and what he was trying to do. This hypospray is all we’ve got to go on.”

“Ah I see,” Phlox trailed off. “Ahm, why isn’t he being questioned?”

“Because he’s dead.”

“The Professor killed him?” Phlox was surprised a Vulcan would use deadly force, especially such a highly esteemed one.

“Solkar only stunned him but the man had some kind of failsafe to prevent capture. A device he activated that vaporized his body like a disruptor would, the Vulcans’ investigation hasn’t found any genetic material left to analyze. All they know is it wasn’t actually Dr. Sevel.”

“Sevel did this?”

Archer frowned, “The man we knew as Sevel wasn’t in fact Dr. Sevel of the Science Directorate. He was found dead shortly after Professor Solkar took down the other man. They have no idea who he is.”

The Captain dryly frowned, “Or was.”

“I see, well I’ll get to work as soon as the data comes in.”

“Archer out,” Jon released the panel and fell into thought. Why would someone attack T’Pol?

------------------------

The two men sat across from each other in the pale candlelight. The human was hardly an infant before the weathered Vulcan face that sat silently, his hands placed carefully on telepathic contact points. The twelfth hour crawled by as Trip’s mind reeled like a small boy on the back of a wild bronco. Bucking back and forth, endlessly trying to anticipate the next bout of instability and brace for its impact. His mind was fatiguing and again the voice of the Vulcan interceded. This time its own composure was faltering.

Commander Tucker I strongly advise you rest, you are quite exhausted, you require rest before we can continue.

The breaking point of telepathic contact as the Vulcans judged it, when the physical body began adversely responding to the mental rigors the mind is subjected to, had long since come and passed. Tucker’s eyelids flinched at every near toss of the psychological bull-ride his mind was grinding through. With the ebb of the strain he felt himself come closer to losing control, as a muscle lifting a great weight that is ready to collapse. But he forced the control deeper, pushing his mind into further subjugation. He struggled on, time and again imposing his will over autonomous response. Many minutes later the pain forced his response.

No! We- I can keep goin’…

The concentration required to divert to communication tripped up his focus. His teeth clenched, he dove his mind further into the playing field, awaiting the charge of telepathic disarray like a heavy lineman. Alien to his human mind, the force shattered his fragile control. Solkar squinted in pain as he strained to hold Tucker from falling into complete darkness.

Where one might lose consciousness when the mind is assaulted while awake, Tucker nearly fell into the only abyss that awaits such a blow dealt to an already unconscious mind. Solkar’s heart quickened, his mind moved at a telepathic pace he had not dared since his youth, extending his control like a cape about Trip’s mind. Tucker gasped, eyes gaped open and then fell shut as he panted and collapsed on the floor. Solkar lifted two fingers into the air, motioning to a silent figure in the darkness.

“He must rest. Commander, I will summon you when you have recuperated.” He spoke to the collapsed human, but Trip heard little more than a discombobulated clamor.

The elderly Vulcan fell into silent meditation as a younger assistant hoisted up Trip’s barely conscious body. Trip looked through sweat-stung eyes at the Vulcan that effortlessly could have supported his whole weight. As he hobbled down the corridor under the Vulcan’s assistance, the thought occurred to Trip that he and the Vulcan were touching and in quite close proximity. Must be hell on your control. He mused with newfound empathy. It was the beginning for Trip of a new understanding for what these empathically sensitive people go through. He had always thought of their standoffishness as arrogant, as if they looked down on touching such a vile species as humans. Like we’re below ‘em or somethin'. Now he realized how insulting many humans and non telepaths were to such an involuntary condition, they can’t help it. It’s a lot more hell on them tryin’ to interact with us and strain under our emotions than it is for us to just respect their distance, I ‘spose. Hmm… The Vulcan carrying him, while not capable of directly detecting his thought, was allowed by their close proximity to feel sensations. He capably picked up clarity of thought in the Commander, glancing at him as they reached T’Pol’s recovery room. Trip was surprised to see him make eye contact, the Vulcan curiously picking apart the complicated vibes coming off Commander Tucker.

Perhaps Commander T’Pol has not chosen so illogically…

“Thanks, I can take it from here,” Trip smiled. The Vulcan winced under the weight of his own emotion, ‘admiration’. He realized that the difficulty of Commander Tucker’s preparation to help T’Pol recover must be his to bear, and his alone. If T’Pol were to see him carried under another’s assistance, she would undoubtedly weaken her condition with worry and perhaps guilt. The Vulcan digested all of this in a few moments and acceded to its logical value.

He nodded at Trip, released his hold on him and watched as Trip haphazardly held his wobbly legs in position against the doorframe. His conviction to leave wavered, but as if Trip sensed it he gave him a telling glance. The Vulcan’s intrigue was piqued again by the almost telepathic expectation of Mr. Tucker to his doubt. Understanding, he finally turned and left Tucker to his own devices to make it in the door.

Pushing the door open when the aid was out of sight, Trip checked to find T’Pol’s eyes were empty in sleep. The moment he lifted a foot into the room her eyes slowly opened and looked on him with a minuscule smile tugging at the corners. He stopped for a moment; he had wished she would be asleep so his state of disarray would go unnoticed. Now he had to try to make it to the bed without making his fatigue obvious. But he was a fool to think his outward appearance could hide the condition inside. Even while he hid the symptoms, she felt the exhaustion in him. Her eyes squinted and blinked in concern. Trip dropped his head in confession as he leaned on the doorframe, but a light smile curved his lips.

I ‘spose it is pretty silly tryin’ to sneak in on ya without ya noticin'.

He hobbled into the room, sloppily maintaining only a remnant of balance. He managed his way to the bed side without too much difficulty, but the sigh that left him betrayed the pretense.

T’Pol knew he was drained, but his mind was in such chaos from his training session with Solkar that she failed to discern precise details about just how serious his state was. But outside of the bond, the “human” intuition she had developed to read his emotions before the discovery of their bond told her enough.

She could see the weakness plainly on his face, but she could also sense trepidation in him at her knowing what troubled him. Taking the silent hint, she did not wish to upset him by making him think it upset her. The understanding flowed in a few moments and through the silence he managed himself onto the bed. She nearly purred out-loud at the assault on her senses the closeness of his embrace brought to her, his arm pulling her tightly to his chest. The incredibly potent scent, heightened by his exertions in the meld, his warm flesh coming flush with her smooth belly as he slowly hiked up her sleeping gown. Their eyes followed his methodical hand as it roved over her curves and under the gown. His fingers traversed the heavenly smoothness of her thigh, and under her quickening breath retreated to more neutral ground around her torso. He looked into her eyes and drove his face into hers, meeting her lips softly, with loving brushes. His fingers continued their journey up her midsection until they reveled in the softness of her breast, the warmth of her skin as she beamed at him from inside. Intimate touch for the first time in months brought her control to its knees as her throat nearly growled and her tongue traced the outlines of her lips. Slowly he settled his hand into the small of her back and snaked it up the length of her spine to find the pressure points. He slowly manipulated the muscles she taught him, begging her mouth to open in submission to his power over her.

I see, ‘guess this means you’ve regained some feelin' back uh?

Lying there with his mate gasping in relaxation, Trip couldn’t help but examine more closely every feature of her face. He watched it contort in pleasure and calm. The carefully kempt hairline, the razor sharp line of her jaw, the greenish hue of her flesh as it receded around her ears. When her eyes rolled back to meet the ceiling he moved slowly forward. Without a word she felt the heat of his lips approaching and met him as they danced on her chin and nibbled up to her lower lip. Gazing over a massive precipice, T’Pol felt her arousal pushing her closer and closer to the edge, an abyss of wild desire and pleasure waiting below. She flicked her tongue, finally opening up for him and he took the invitation without question. She sucked on his upper lip, but the kiss continued in passionate softness rather than the explosive torrent from the Expanse. She ached inside to reach her arms around him and suddenly the recollection of her condition brought her back to reality.

Upon receiving his final ministration to her upper lip T’Pol broke their kiss and found herself panting. In deference to his mental fatigue she sought conventional communication.

“Trip, I…” her voice cracked as she gasped to make out a single sentence between breathes. “I do not believe it is wise to continue on this course of action given your state of duress, I believe you will need all your strength to continue tomorrow.”

Trip lowered his head into her chest and nuzzled her collarbone and neck. A disappointed grunt escaped his throat as she tightened her throat muscles against his lips to convey disapproval.

“You will not succeed in attempting to alter my judgment,” she insisted. At the return of the feigned ice in her voice, Trip giggled into the flesh of her neck. The sensation shot reverberations into her, driving shivers down her neck. She hoped he didn’t feel her response. He finally looked up with the guilty smile of a four year old caught with his face covered in chocolate and a hint of glee in his tone.

“Are you SURE, Commander T’Pol?” he asked indignantly.

“If necessary I will remain in still meditation for the remainder of the evening, regardless of your attempts to… involve me.”

Trip smirked, “That doesn’t mean I can’t run myself ragged anyway now does it?” his grin widening.

With her facial muscles under her control she retorted with an eyebrow, “If necessary I will raise my voice and inform the entire facility I am being raped.”

Trip laughed out loud and pulled up close to her lips, nuzzling his nose into hers. Mmmm I want you too, but not tonight T’hy’la. She finally admitted he could in fact involve her.

“Ya can’t rape the willin' darlin,” he brushed his lips lightly against hers and nuzzled her again. A soft moan escaped her throat, a purr of warmth more than a groan of desire.

“Indeed. But it would be wise for you to regain your strength, you need it to adequately assist my recovery.” Suddenly she had him there, nothing was more important to him than her recovery. He scrunched his mouth and rolled his eyes in contemplation.

“And I believe you gave your word to Solkar,” she added with a hint of accusation. He looked on her with a feigned scorn, “You wouldn’t!”

His only answer was a playful eyebrow, that he rewarded by kissing it softly.

“I am Vulcan,” she droned coolly.

Painted with a silly grin he whispered, “My Vulcan.” She beamed with pleasure at his declaration.

He snickered to her and then, with a tremendous sigh, fell into a deep sleep buried in T’Pol’s arms.

-------------------------------

“Ah, Captain. I’ll just be one moment,” Phlox greeted Archer as he entered sickbay. The doctor retreated to a research console before returning with a small vial, motioning for the captain to follow him. They came to a halt in front of a large medical view-screen, after a few commands from Phlox the image of the Vulcan circulatory system filled the screen.

Archer frowned, “Have you been able to identify the compound?”

“Yes, and no, Captain.” Archer waited before Phlox punched another few commands and a flurry of small dots flowed through the Vulcan body, now clearly that of a female.

“I have identified the contents of the compound, but I believe I know why the Vulcans could not identify it,” Phlox now changed a small corner of the screen to a magnified sphere. “This is a tiny spherical structure that composes the compound, millions of them, each one less than half a micron in diameter. They are made from a nano-polymer I can’t identify, however,” the doctor continued the simulation. The sphere on the display rotated three hundred sixty degrees, revealing a perforated section of the sphere.

“That looks like,” Archer strained to look closer, “almost like a tiny plasma duct.” The doctor was slightly amused, but a weight kept his face drawn towards the floor.

“It’s a very sophisticated delivery system,” Archer was drawn from his own thoughts.

“For what?” Phlox swallowed hard.

“Trellium D.” Archer’s chest heaved, but before he could ask Phlox continued.

With a sigh he began, “I believe the Vulcans have not discovered that Trellium resides within these spheres,” he indicated the display, “Because they haven’t found a way to penetrate them with a traditional scan.”

“There are dozens of layers to the containment spheres, each one fractions of a nanometer wide, Captain this is very sophisticated bio-technology.” Phlox’s intention was clear to Archer. This isn’t Vulcan technology.

“The containers cannot be penetrated by medical scans due to a protective coating, one of the middle layers of the sphere. Its identity I do not know,” Phlox admitted.

“So how were you able to penetrate the spheres to find the Trellium, and if it’s a delivery system, how is it released?”

“The ‘ducts’ as you put them, open and release the Trellium vapor into the bloodstream of whomever they’re injected to – but not until they are triggered. I experimented with hundreds of different stimuli that a female Vulcan of T’Pol’s approximate age might produce.”

Archer was silent while Phlox paused. He indicated the lower abdomen of the Vulcan anatomy on the screen, upon enlargement Phlox continued.

“The spheres responded to hormonal levels correlative to the blood of a pregnant Vulcan female. If a pregnant Vulcan were to be injected with this, the Trellium would release and very likely kill the offspring.”

Archer was silent before his eyes narrowed and he became incredibly frustrated, “Wait a minute, a pregnant Vulcan?”

He stared at Phlox who remained silent. “Phlox is T’Pol pregnant?” Suddenly the doctor realized the implication Archer may have taken, his eyes widened in defense.

“Not as far as I know! I kept her physical condition extremely well documented, Captain, and she certainly didn’t have any opportunity under my watch to become pregnant.”

Archer sighed in relief, that’d have been the last thing I needed, he thought as he recalled Tucker’s broad smile in his office. Interrupted by Phlox, Archer flinched from a nightmare of being chased by Starfleet admirals and Vulcan ambassadors.

“Actually, I believe this was a preventive attack. There were structural irregularities of the spheres I could not explain.” Phlox shifted, “When I began to suspect this compound was designed to attack a pregnancy I combined the proper blood and hormone levels to create an effective simulation of a Vulcan uterine environment,” Archer’s eyes suddenly widened.

In defense of his methods Phlox quickly countered Archer’s impending disapproval, “I discovered the compound doesn’t just conveniently attack the Vulcan reproductive system, it seeks it out. When I placed the compound in the simulated environment the irregularities I detected erected tiny stakes,” Phlox touched a portion of the sphere still lingering on the screen. The portion enlarged, filling the screen with a ball with what looked to Archer to be hundreds of tiny spikes around its edges.

“Like a blowfish,” he thought aloud. Phlox nodded, “They are designed to enter the bloodstream, when they detect uterine tissue the ‘spikes’ cling to uterine walls. They reside there until a pregnancy is detected. The Trellium is then released directly into the developing fetal tissue. It would no doubt kill the baby in a matter of days and most likely do severe damage to the mother. Perhaps fatal, depending on the dosage.”

Archer exhaled loudly and made no effort to hide his disbelief as he rubbed his forehead. For the first time since Archer entered sickbay, Phlox blinked absently as his fatigue became evident.

“Have the Vulcans even done much research on Trellium since we returned from the Expanse?” Archer asked the doctor, pulling his arms back to his side.

“Not that I’m aware of,” Phlox said in a low voice.

“So ‘Doctor Sevel’ or whoever he was…” Phlox finished for him, “Wasn’t Vulcan.” Archer amended his conclusion, “Or was working for someone other than the Vulcans.” Archer blinked hard, straightened his shoulders and looked back up at Phlox.

“Thank you, Doctor,” he turned to leave. But suddenly the forgotten courtesy reminded him, darting his head back. “Great work, Phlox.” Phlox forced a weak smile as Archer headed back to the Bridge.

“Um, Captain.” Archer doubled back, a Denobulan hand stretched into the hair. “Will you be informing Commanders Tucker and T’Pol?”

Archer’s gaze fell to the floor, managing a nod halfway down. “When T’Pol’s recovered,” his voice trailed into a raspy whisper as he struggled to handle his own words. He turned and left.

------------------------------

“It is time,” came the measured Vulcan voice. Standing in the door, early morning light pouring across his features, stood Solkar. Trip was sitting up on the edge of the bed, T’Pol resting in meditative silence behind him.

“Commander, I hope you are rested,” Solkar referred to the circles under Trip’s eyes. Tucker sat silently in the darkness, ran a hand through his hair with a sigh and slapped it back down on his thigh.

“I’ve just been a li'l nervous is all,” Tucker huffed.

Finally lifting his gaze from the floor, he flashed the elderly Vulcan a guilty grin before admitting the truth. “I wasn’t been able to sleep much,” Trip admonished.

“T’Pol was givin' me a hard time about not sleepin' so she helped me meditate last night,” he trailed off. Solkar’s mouth tightened as he nodded slightly. Without exchange of words, Trip rose and turned to T’Pol. Her eyes opened slowly. Trip held the warmth of their glint for a long moment. An unconscious comfort in the look she gave him replaced Charles Tucker III’s edginess. Behind him, arms clasped at his waist, stood Solkar.

Over three days of close contact he had studied this man’s mind intricately, learned his strengths and his weaknesses. In meditative practice for the meld, Solkar had taken Trip to the breaking point of emotional vulnerability. He had strained his control an iota short of shattering it, and brought the engineer’s mind to its psychological knees. But it was not his wish. The man simply refused to desist.

For many hours Trip would sit in quiet, desperate to withstand a level of psychological torment that Vulcans studied for decades to endure. Many times he faltered and Solkar insisted he rest, but Trip refused to acquiesce time and again. The way Trip saw it, the Vulcans were smart people, but they did everything the long way.

During the Warp 5 project they insisted everything be done slowly and by the book to ensure safety. And sure, Trip thought, maybe we shoulda been a little more careful, recalling Captain Robinson’s brush with death. But we don’t have time to be safe, Trip had resolved. So he pushed to take on more stress and psychological trauma to prepare for the meld with T’Pol than Solkar thought he could survive. He knew some things could be done quicker than the Vulcans thought, even if it wasn’t totally safe. It just wadn’t always safe, Trip had told himself as he lie in bed next to T’Pol each night after the training. His every muscle had ached, regardless of the absolute stillness in which the twelve to eighteen hours of meditation took place.

Drawn from his thoughts after several moments, Trip glanced back at Solkar who patiently waited at the door, remaining as stoic as ever.

His attention turned to T’Pol when he felt her eyes on him. He blinked into the darkness before turning towards her, trying to push the uneasiness from his face. When he found her eyes looking back at him, the strength of the bond washed over him. Amidst his fear, her feelings forced a smile to his face as he leaned in and scooped her up.

Following Solkar’s flowing robes, the legs on the engineer moved autonomously as his full attention lie on the eyes penetrating his mind. The walk was made in silence; no words, no thoughts broke the anxious stillness that seemed to follow the couple. Even the two men’s footfalls seemed to break upon the floor in utter quiet as they reached their destination.

The door opened to reveal the blistering sun, risen above the Vulcan landscape to bake the bodies of the two men and cradled woman. Trip squinted at the sudden illumination and turned to Solkar.

“How far is it?” The Vulcan pointed into the distance at the looming visage of Mt. Seleya.

“By transport the journey will require approximately twenty four minutes to reach t’suk’tauk Surak.” Trip didn’t bother to look to T’Pol, an itch of anxiety returned at his lack of understanding. She broke the mental silence.

We are going to the Caverns of Surak, beneath Mount Seleya where he performed the first mind meld. It is said in the Kir’shara that the katra of the first Kohlinar masters to learn to meld with Surak, still resides in the Caverns. It is our hope that they will… assist our efforts.

He followed Solkar’s measured steps to the transport and carried T’Pol into a seat. Solkar seated himself beside the pilot, exchanging a command in Vulcan before the transport departed. T’Pol’s head fell onto Trip’s shoulder, nudging into his chest as the rest of her body remained limply flailed in her seat. They flew silently through the dry Vulcan air for several minutes. The only movement in the transport car over those twenty four minutes was the slow procession of T’Pol’s head closer under Trip’s chin as she nuzzled further into him. Each time she got closer he felt stronger and rejuvenated by her embrace, her smell. With his comforting scent assaulting her senses, a minute groan barely escaped her throat. The sound beat back his fears of inadequacy and renewed his confidence.

Finally, the retro thrusters fired and the glaze left Commander Tucker’s eyes as he realized they had arrived. They filed out of the craft onto only hard desert rock. The desert breeze lacked of the moisture Trip knew from his home state. Solkar turned to Trip, raised his right hand as his robes flowed out in providence.

“There,” he declared with a long, outstretched arm towards the rock face of the towering mountain. Trip peered up as they marched towards the bright entrance, baked in fiery sunlight for the first half dozen meters. Beyond that point, blackness was interrupted by periodic torches adorned upon the rock wall. Solkar proceeded into the entrance and through the catacombs with no hesitation. But Trip was slightly unnerved by the bizarreness of the world that would surround them during the meld. It amazed him that Vulcans, in all their totalitarian logic, would perform such a dangerous procedure in a place of heritage over a place of sterility. His mind recalled that he had been told in school Vulcans gave birth in traditional underground caves, prolly a lot like this one, he thought to himself.

T’Pol’s feet brushed the narrow edges of the corridors as one twist followed another. The old Vulcan led Trip by a few meters through the caverns, hands calmly at his waist in union. But Trip had noticed since they entered the tunnels that T’Pol’s mind had become increasingly erratic, more emotions seeped through the bond to his notice. His awareness of her heightened alertness was apparent when he looked down at her with rigid eyebrows and a gentle concern.

T’Pol? Her eyes shifted from the walls and passing torch lights to her Mate.

The… memories of Surak’s teachings are said to flow through these caverns. All my life I was aware of controversy that Surak may have taught here. The… appeal to my people of this place is extremely powerful. It should aid in the meld, to allow our minds to combine more readily. But the potency of the feelings Vulcans associate with this place are… taxing on my control.

Trip only nodded, looking up to see Solkar had come to a halt ahead of him. After a dozen more meters of straight-line path, the cavern opened up into a large communal. Candles adorned the outer walls, thousands of ‘em, Trip craned his neck to climb the many meters to the top of the cavern. Dozens of torches circled its upper levels. Illuminating the massive chamber in constantly dancing firelight, Trip wondered how such an ancient temple was maintained. A silent moment held Solkar before he proceeded to lay the ceremonial pillows for Trip and T’Pol to kneel upon. His eyes fell shut in silent awe of the katra of so many masters in his presence. The power of the firelight danced upon even Solkar’s control, but drawing strength from the Kohlinar masters of ages passed, he placed the Bonding mats and a small candle.

Turning back to the couple, T’Pol now identified the pillows that lay on the rock floor as belonging to a Bonding ceremony. Solkar had them kept in his robe along the journey, unintentionally hidden from her view. Her eyes gazed upon them intently enough to elicit an explanation, even though Solkar felt it should be obvious.

“The healing procedure will also permanently complete putelsu, t’Pudvel-su zhuk-fas-tor tu terto'ovau veh goh ek'wak.” T’Pol visibly shook as she began translating the Proposal to her Mate. Trip looked into her eyes blankly with a hint of anxiousness, reacting to the giddy fever he felt flickering through the bond.

“What is it T’Pol, what’d he say?” Solkar remained in silent deference to T’Pol’s strenuous admission. The cavernous firelight danced in her eyes as they shown at Charles in brilliance as if the flames were inside them.

It means we must wish to ‘Complete our bond, to choose each other and be each other chosen, forged together into one, forever.’ It is, as you would view it, a proposal of marriage.

Trip blinked several times, feeling the heat of the walls around him bake his skin to perspire as he held the tiny form of T’Pol of Vulcan. Without speaking he lifted her closer, tucking his mouth behind her cheek. In a whisper to her ear, he sent shivers down her spine nearly enough to spasm broken nerves.

“T’Pol, would you do me the honor of bein’ mah wife?”

She was confused by the redundancy of the question given their surroundings and intentions to complete the bond. It quickly subsided when she delved into his mind and realized his human upbringing compelled him to ask, despite the nature of the bond nullifying the need. She understood the human term to marriage was much less severe than a Vulcan Bond, but Trip had grown to understand the meaning of the Bond. And in time, she thought to herself as she held the words from him, he will come to understand as a Vulcan would.

“Yes,” the words came to his ears like the softness of a feather pillow even as they barely escaped her lips in a husky rasp.

---------------Note---------------

I invented the Caverns of Surak and the fact about the first melds being performed there based on the information given in the Vulcan Arc by the Syrranites. According to them, Surak was big on mind melds and the discovery of the Kir’shara we know is what lifted the ‘stigma’ from melding. We also know he died on Mount Seleya, so I figured Surak would be all about hangin’ out around Mt. Seleya. So there you have it, it’s just fiction, just thought I’d mention that.

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A whole mess of folks have made comments

Oooooooooo! Nice! More, please, this is reeeeeeeally good! The whole Trellium-injector thing brings up interesting scenarios. *hint, hint* :)

Cool.. I get to write the first comment..

Love the story! Hope you will let T'Pol recover soon. Trip's character is very well written and I like the interaction with Solkar.

Oops... Windrider, you beat me by a minute.

I enjoy the layers of this fic, but there are so many things that are not right and are jarring to the reader. Sorry for the critique, but the 'teacher' in me can't resist marking your work!!

You use some words incorrectly; you use the word 'shroud' when I'm fairly sure you mean 'curtain'. Shroud is material dead bodies are wrapped in before burial! There is no such word as 'kempt' as in 'kempt hairline'; the proper word is 'unkempt'.

I could go on, but generally adjectives are used oddly: "Trip cooed??" Babies coo, not grown men. 'Shove off his boots"?? Trip woke slovenly?' How do you wake in a careless and untidy manner? "Trip powerfully wrapped...?? "Trip giggled into the flesh......" I don't think I want to hear a man
'giggling': kids giggle, young girls giggle, but not grown men.

Other comments: T'Pol is very proud of being Vulcan and I don't think she would ever say "If I could I would change my very race to be human to remain your mate". This is way out of character.

I like the general theme of this fic, but overall it really needs some work. The oddities of its written style make it difficult for me to believe any of it.

I'm curious to see how you handle this meld. Wonder who Dr Sevel was... Romulan? or an isolationist faction. I've really enjoyed reading this, and look forward to the next chapter.

You have a really creative and multi-detailed story going on here.
As for the oomments above, I looked up 'kempt' in the dictionary and found it, and I don't recall where you used shroud, but it could have the same meaning as curtain given a certain contex
although I have to agree about Trip giggling and cooing...
in spots it almost seems like you are trying a bit to hard to paint this vividly descriptive picture...in most cases it's well done, just slightly overkill in some spots.
Looking forward to more...

Trekkie123 .. do you want to read a masterpiece of English literature or an entertaining fanfic???

Honestly, the odd use of some words disturbs you?

I mean, whether it's giggled or chuckled .. I guess everybody gets the picture!

Please remember, there are quite a lot of fans whose mother language is not English.. please, give them credit for putting so much work and effort in their stories.

Hey trekkie123,

this story is a fantasy, why can`t the characters be a bit different. It's the decision of the writer. I like the story and I do know a lot "giggling" grown men ;-)

May the prophets guide you.

Wow gettin good.
I dont know if T'pol would ever say she would willingly change her race to be Human,, But I do remember in "The Forgoten" when Trip said he envied Vulcans, T'pol replied that Humans are the one's to be envied, because of humanities ablity to live with are emotions, an not have to constantly keep them in check,, Dont know either way if she would willinly change her race,, But Ya did bring up an interestin thought.
Good job! :)cant wait for the next update.

John-
I really like the nanospheres as a poison delivery system idea... did you make that one up? I agree that the story would be improved if you didn't try so hard. "Purple prose" is what they used to call it in the good old days of "Amazing Wonder Stories". I think you'll find just relaxing a bit and making use of a good theosaurus and dictionary to ensure that you're using your words in the correct context will do wonders for the clarity of your writing. Keep in mind, though, that anyone can learn the mechanics of writing. It's the original ideas that separate the news writers from the novelists. Keep up the good work!

very, very romantic. i love it!

---just after reading comments. i do feel that you were going for a certain softness for their relationship that perhaps we didn't see of trip on the show. but i believe if they HAD gone this route, everyone would have loved the softness, as i do. that was my interpretation of romantic^

I love your story, John! I think you've written a very interesting story, certainly interesting enough to keep me coming back for more. And while I agree that there are some odd word choices in spots, it doesn't really bother me overall. I got the gist of what you're trying to say, and I can hardly wait to see what you're going to put Trip and T'Pol through next in the caverns. :) Keep up the good work.

Wow, this one has generated a lot of commentary! On the whole I'm enjoying your story, it has a very interesting plot line and I could easily see something like this as a story on the show (ok, it won't happen now but still I mean it as sincere compliment).

Reviewing the comments, I had to concur with the statements re words from Trekkie??, and I checked my dictionary and didn't find kempt either. Both sides are right, it is a fic and should be read in that spirit.

OTOH, to be fair to Trekkie?? if one is going to spend however much spare time reading fanfic, I too prefer the writing to be believable both in story and presentation. John, keep up the good work. You are definitely on to a good story here.

Great story so far! I love all of the Vulcan cultural background and history you add to this story. I also love the background into T'Pol's blood line...Solkar is a great character. Oh and all that techno babble between Phlox and the Captain was really good too...where'd you come up with all this good stuff? Just brilliant writing!

Oh, and that opening scene between Hoshi\Malcolm had me laughing after I realized they weren't having sex! LOL, you teased the reader well there, John!

Hello all, I appreciate the comments.

To address a few points, I realize the wording is at times a little non-colloquial, but for me as a reader it's distracting to encounter the very same word over and over again:

"he laughed into her skin", "he laughed at her compliment", "a curtain covered her sleeping area", "he pulled back the curtain", "the curtain was open" ad infinitum.

And as far as I know, I may have messed up the grammatical structure slightly, but kempt is a word and it means "tidy, trim":http://dictionary.reference.com/search?q=kempt

When I write guys I sit here with dictionary.com and the thesaurus it comes with open, I hate regurgitating the same words over and over again.

Sure sometimes if you use a word a reader isn't familiar with it can be distracting, but the purpose of "shroud" is to attach an emotional picture to it rather than the drab meaning of "curtain". Shroud has an emotional connotation to it, it makes us think of a depressing atmosphere. Or 'cooed' rather than 'laughed', to use a word most often used to refer to a baby, the reader gets the idea that Trip is so happy at the moment he's like a giddy little kid. Would it be better writing if I just said he laughed, and then directly narrate to the reader, "Trip felt as happy as a kid"? I think the words color the situation so you don't end up dictating your narrative.

I must admit, the line about T'Pol saying she'd give up her race was a bit out of character - but that was borderline for me because that was taking T'Pol somewhere the show never got to, a state of total surrendering of her feelings to Trip. It sounds out of character because we never saw her that way.

And yes, Trip woke slovenly because he was so relaxed about where he was and who he was with. You're supposed to get this image of him stretching and flailing his arms out wide to stretch and taking up half the bed and then relaxing around T'Pol...That's what I see when I think of it, the connotation to the word lets the reader see their own image without me saying, "he awoke and stretched out his arms and legs, then wrapped his arms around her."

In that particular scene I was getting into the emotions of my characters and at times my OWN words come out.

And yes, I came up with all the stuff about the nano-spheres. Idk where it came from, there's a bit of information coming at the end of this entire story, in a conversation with someone specific, which indicates WHY this particular odd methodology was used to introduce the Trellium. So you'll see ;)

PS: I'll try to go easy on the synonyms, but the intention is to attach connotation to give very specific imagery to the reader, it's not just to be pompous I assure you :)
-XO to all my readers!

Ok guys, in light of having really agreed once I went back over it, I decided to tone down T'Pol's little outburst and I asked Bucky to replace that section of the text.

Thanx!

John

i'd just like to say that all dictionaries were NOT made equally-- and with the sheer number of words in world... you readers have to realize that there are new words, new contexts for words all the time.(slang, anyone?) language is a changeable, usable, FLUID tool. and i feel john has used it as such. do y'all have degrees in linguistics, also? sorry, but i kinda find it rude for people to be throwin' their credentials around during a review of fan fic, or at all, actually. they are your peers, not your students. geez! now you made him change stuff!

First things first, great job on this story John. Love the story I'm completely involved in it and cant wait for the next installment.

By the way all, dont be so hard on the man, this aint Willie Shakespeare we're talking about.

P.S. Did I already say that I love this fic :P

*muah muah* love you all :D

Still loving this story, John! Glad to see you can take constructive criticism and stay positive - you're already a much better writer than me (you have read my fics, right? Oh, no. I haven't posted any. Ever. Hey, you're lightyears ahead of me!) I agree with you that reading the same words again and again gets tedious for the reader. And I like that you sculpt your story with carefully chosen words, even if they may not be familiar - keeps us on our toes! I'll gladly wade through the more cumbersome sections.

Well done, you!

Looking forward to more...

Mmm . . Me likey. More, more!

John, I actually like how you were writing T'Pol. Please don't tone her down one bit in your sequel. This is my favorite T\T fanfic at this time, truely.

I think its totally believable that T'Pol would behave more emotionally or caring torwards Trip, especially in your story. As we see in BOUND in the Sickbay scene, she is picking up more of Trip's behaviors (bad habits) because of the psychic bond they share. So we see it happen on the series, and this is why I totally believe that the way you write T'Pol is in line with her character.

As you said we never got to see this in T'Pol on the series, but all know that it was there, just toned down and butchered in the end by the B's. This is fanfic! Shouldn't we be allowed to read into these characters more and add depth to them?

Keep up the great work John! I'm was planning on reading this again tonight anyway, but now will have to look for this toned down T'Pol piece.

i loved it john and agree with y2kelly dont tone tpol down she is great just the way she is and im looking forward to the next part

I am enjoying your creativity and original way of telling your story. It is after all your story, tell it the way you wish.

Mostly excellent with a few nits. If you didn't have nits your wouldn't be writing fan fic most likely. Looking forward to reading more. Like the original charactors.

Y2K thanx for the assurances on T'Pol - it was a touchy area for that particular area. The idea, from my perspective, was that T'Pol was going through utter emotional abandon to Trip, as she watched him feel inadequate for the tremendous love he had for her she instinctively wanted to reach out to him and give over everything she was.

the problem some people have with that, and I can understand it very well, is that we never saw T'Pol that way, so it's hard to visualize. Don't worry, even though I subtracted the lines about her leaving her family and Vulcan in this ed., T'Pol's emotional connection to Trip in the future is going to remain powerful and intense!

The only thing I toned down about T'Pol was I removed two lines where she said she would declare the breaking of family ties, and leave Vulcan to be with him...And in a moment of reckless desperation to show him how much she cares, she says she'd even change her race to be human to remain his mate, because his point of anxiety is that he's unsure if he's adequate to serve as a Vulcan mate for her, save her life, etc. So now she just says she'd die without him, how she could have no other mate but him. :)

It's one little paragraph of bond-talk that's changed, everything else is the same.

Absolutely excellent. Can't wait for the next part. Soon Please.

I loved those lines from T'Pol. I think the way you write the scene, where Trip is feeling like he must become a Vulcan to be w/ T'Pol...like he's having an identity crisis...and he's not confident that he can provide for her Vulcan needs w/out an identity change...she understands his anquish through the bond and only dittos his sentiments wholeheartedly. T'Pol says to Archer in Breaking the Ice, "I envy you" and says to Trip in Damage, "Humans are the one's to be envied"...because we're able to have feeling and not loose total control. This is why I feel you are writing in line w/ T'Pol's character to say that she would want to be human and in this scene to declare to Trip that she too would change her identity for him just as he would. John, that was a beautiful scene, one of my favorites of the story, and I hope you consider adding it back in some day. Either way your story is great. :)

B/c you all liked it so much I decided to tell Bucky to just leave it in! :)