Your Mom 'n Me - Part I - sec. 5

Your Mom n' Me

Author: John O.
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. T’Pol and Trip perform the meld, with some unexpected consequences. They return to the ship, Archer announces Enterprise’s next destination, Travis has big news and everyone settles back into normal routines.

Part I – Startling Discoveries

Sec. 5 (Chapters 10 & 11)

Chapter 10:

The room loomed ahead of Solkar as he stepped aside and allowed Trip to enter. Preparing to fall back into the tunnels to leave them in seclusion, Solkar awaited the last look he felt coming from the Commander. Pausing at the doorway, Tucker finally broke his stare with T’Pol to give her grandfather a reassuring glance. The Vulcan returned it with due intensity, the gravity of Tucker’s responsibility weighed on him heavily and he illogically worried for T’Pol’s safety. Solkar doubted Tucker’s ability to perform the meld satisfactorily, regardless of his preparation. But he also knew it was her only chance. Her slow and steady recovery had leveled off the day she arrived at the facility and the mere presence of her mate was no longer enough to improve her condition. A failure of the meld would certainly send T’Pol spiraling back into a coma where no treatment could revive her.

Reading his solemnity, Trip nodded and turned T’Pol to fit through the door in his arms. Solkar disappeared into the catacombs.

Tucker moved to the center of the room where the Bonding pillows had been placed at the center of a broad circle of candles. Stepping carefully over its border, he set T’Pol down upon one of the cushions. She winced at the necessity for her mate to prop her up into the necessary position, as her paralysis forbid her from moving into the appropriate melding position on her knees. After helping her onto her knees, staring at Trip was a white-clad woman, trembling through her sheared nerves in anticipation. Still partially cradling her to help her get seated, Trip pulled her face to his before rising. Their foreheads touched, his hands guiding her trembling cheeks to one soft kiss. Finally he backed away, moving his mat closer to hers. He pulled her hand to his cheek, placing her fingers in delicate formation. With a hard gulp, the engineer put his own hand to her lovely jaw, caressing its edge before finding the right spot. Closing her eyes, T’Pol began: “My mind to your mind,” then Trip continued and T’Pol felt a tingle in the back of her thoughts. “My thoughts to your thoughts,” he winced as the words were followed by a sudden change of scenery. He found himself surrounded by a vicious storm, and heard a howling cry piercing the air. With the scream of a terrified voice, Trip craned his neck, searching for T’Pol.

Then he saw her, crouched in a corner of a rock-face on the barren planet in her mind on which they had found themselves. He rushed up to her, her knees clutched to her body and her face contorted in agony. She screamed straight up into the sky, thunder clapping in response. The first wave of powerful Vulcan emotion slammed into his chest like a sledge, causing him to stop his approach to her side. Blinking slowly, he fell to her and cradled her soft face. One hand upon her cheek, another pulling her sunken chin to look into his eyes he finished huskily, “Our minds are one.”

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“You kissed him?! ”

Hoshi pushed a finger to her mouth in panic. “Shh!”

Pushing food around with her fork, Ensign Sato looked up at Anna Hess across the table. “It was only a peck on the cheek,” Hoshi smiled guiltily. The engineer laughed as she sipped her beverage. Few officers and crewmen populated the Mess Hall this early and the young woman needed all the caffeine she could get.

Hoshi gaped at Lt. Hell as she chugged the coffee, “Take it easy sailor!”

Setting the mug down, she blinked hard, requiring conscious effort to reopen her eyes after closing them.

“They must be really running you ragged down there,” Sato remarked of the Engineering crews.

“I swear, when the Commander gets back I’m never going to complain about my shift leader duties again,” she shook her head.

“These damn,” she pulled a PADD from her uniform and slapped it on the desk. “Maintenance logs are ridiculous! And then there’s the crew evaluations,” she pulled a hand across her forehead unconsciously. Suddenly drawn back to reality by something she gestured across the table as Hoshi regarded her quietly.

Ana’s eyes widened in ridicule, “Did you know they have to do these every fourth shift?! There’s so much paperwork, I don’t know how Commander Tucker ever gets anything done!”

Sato quietly sipped her water as Anna broke from her rant. With a heavy sigh she went silent for a few moments. Then her eyes narrowed back on Hoshi.

“You changed the subject!” she snarled at Hoshi who broke into a guilty grin.

“So what happened, what did he say, how did he react?” Hess was now leaning over the table attentively. Hoshi chuckled back at her, “Oh I don’t know,” she answered distantly, ignoring the engineer’s additional questions. She looked over the brim of her water, tipping it slowly as she glanced about the Mess Hall.

Finally refocusing on Anna she rolled her eyes, “I made a total fool of myself, I -” she pulled a hand to her forehead.

Laughing she confessed, “I was so nervous,” she sighed. “It must’ve been obvious.”

“We’re talking about Malcolm Reed aren’t we?” Hess asked rhetorically. When she Hoshi didn’t respond she continued, “He’s never been comfortable around women, I’m sure he was even more nervous than you were.” She reassured her friend, shaking her head.

“Just because he didn’t jump on you and start shoving his tongue in your mouth,” Hoshi broke into laughter, interrupting Hess who reacted to her own joke the same. “Doesn’t mean he isn’t interested,” she insisted.

Hoshi finished her breakfast with a slight giddy smile, the next few moments passing without conversation.

“Speaking of Commander Tucker,” Hoshi ventured, issuing an invitation to Anna Hess. She had pulled out a PADD and was perusing it casually. Looking up, she lifted her eyebrows at Hoshi.

“What are you askin’ me for, you’re the Rumor Queen,” she shot back.

“And I’m runnin’ out of material!” she returned. Pausing momentarily she added, “Come on, you have to know something… He was spending a lot of time down there in Sickbay, didn’t he ever say why he was down there?”

“Nope,” she shook her head absently. “But,” she added as she finally looked up, regarding the Ensign with her full attention.

“I know the way he looked when he ran out of Engineering the day Captain Archer came down to tell him what happened,” Hoshi was clearly paying total attention.

Shaking her head lightly with a bit of a jealous smile tugging at her mouth she explained. “He’s in love with her,” she said with certainty.

Not that it was any surprise to Hess and the engineering team. For four years now she had watched Commander Tucker squirm with delight when he worked with Commander T’Pol in Engineering. Everybody saw it, apparently except her, she thought, not without a hint of disdain. It was truth Anna had thought Trip was cute the moment she was assigned to Enterprise, but she was a professional and it had never interfered with her duty. Working with him these past years had made her admire him more than obsess over him, however, and she had come to look on him as a big brother. She winced as the weeks went by in the Expanse and she watched the man she knew before his sister’s death waste away into a shadow of his former good humor. When he started to recuperate she was so very happy for him, and to find out from Hoshi during the Xindi mission that he was spending a lot of off-duty time with T’Pol…

Had shocked her to say the least. The turbulent times lay ahead and when Tucker lost T’Pol’s attentions again to the Kir’shara, something about him definitely changed. He was back to his old self, but when she worked closely with him there were emotional walls abound in his personality. To anyone he worked with casually, Hess was certain they wouldn’t see through his routine. But the ‘casual Mr. Tucker’ routine didn’t work on someone that had worked very closely with him from the beginning, from high to low, back to high – and finally back to low. But this time, Anna had feared, the low may have consumed his personality and she idly wondered if it would ever return.

Then the attack, then he was shattered, standing before the Captain. Hess, being on duty at the time, recognized the apprehension and reluctance towards T’Pol completely evaporate. She suspected all that remained, was concern. But she hadn’t seen him for days, she had no idea what was going on.

Drawn from her thoughts, Hess looked across the room silently – a smirk crawling across her features. She looked at Hoshi, “I think I just went back on duty,” she smiled suggestively at a confused Ensign Sato. Exiting the Mess Hall, Hess passed by Malcolm Reed as he approached Hoshi’s table. Shooting him a knowing smile, she greeted the Lieutenant. She suppressed a laugh when she was rewarded in her suspicions by Reed’s total lack of response. As she peered over her shoulder on her way out the door, she could see his attention was focused on one thing.

“Good morning Hoshi,” Malcolm stood at the edge of the table. She had eyed him as he made his way to her table, Hess’s cryptic messages sending her curiously looking about.

She smiled nervously, “Hey Lieutenant, have a seat!” she cordially invited. His smile fell slightly at her use of his title, but he pushed the thought away. He would find out soon enough. If I ever manage to bring it up, he thought to himself as he recalled the rehearsal session in his cabin earlier that morning.

The two passed several minutes in nervous silence. Finally, Hoshi broke the silence.

“Lieutenant, I should apologize for the other night, I-”

“But Hosh-” “Malc-” They both began, stopping for each other to continue.

“Go ahead Lieute-” “No, you fir-” They both stopped, flustered and beaming nervous grins across the table.

Malcolm smiled amicably as both went silent. When the coast was clear he ventured into the void between them, “You don’t have to apologize, Hoshi.” His declaration hung in silence as Hoshi grinned sheepishly to herself, looking nervously into her lap.

“I-”

The comm. system broke into the Mess Hall, “This is the Captain. I’d like all senior officers to report to the Situation Room at 0900.”

When the comm. closed Malcolm looked at the chronometer, “That’s in about fifteen minutes.” Clearing his throat he began to speak when Hoshi stood up in front of her empty plate.

“I go on duty in a few minutes Lieutenant, I better find someone to cover my shift to make the staff meeting…” he nodded.

“Well I’ll see you there.” Giddy and afraid at the same time, Hoshi Sato deposited her tray and glanced back at Malcolm Reed as he did the same before she walked out the door.

A few meters away the British officer sighed heavily and slapped himself in the forehead. With a grunt he mused to himself. “Bloody hell,” he muttered as he wolfed down his breakfast.

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“T’Pol?” his crackling voice strained to be heard. His eyes were still closed, the exhaustion lay heavy on his shoulders but he was desperate to know if T’Pol was all right.

The chamber lie quietly lit, the two mates lying side by side, collapsed into sleep. A gentle touch gripped his shoulder, “Commander, it is done. You must rest.”

His eyelids strained and flinched to open, revealing before him the kneeling form of Solkar. “T’Pol, how is she-” Solkar interrupted, “She is healed, Commander. You must both rest.” And he fell into a comatose sleep. But a troubling absence continued to plague him as he slept, the absence of T’Pol’s thoughts and feelings reaching out to his.

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“I am sure this is not necessary,” she complained as he latched the second crutch to her left arm.

“You can’t walk on your own yet, the doctors told you to take it easy for a little while,” Trip chastised his fiancé. She gave him a stern look of disapproval as she ventured one of her arms forward. A few meters outside the airlock, most of the crew had been asked to avoid the launch-bay at Commander Tucker’s request. Much to his mate’s relief. She carefully climbed the catwalk steps, unaware of Trip’s hand on her back as she precariously leaned forward to keep her balance on the steps.

Her frustration was building as each step was slow and caused her to wobble and nearly lose her balance.

“Ya know I may not be able to hear your thoughts but I can tell you’re expectin’ too much of yourself T’Pol.” Trip craned his neck around her shoulder to look her in the eye. She pursed her lips and nodded lightly at him before returning her attention to the last step.

Upon reaching the corridor she began to breathe heavier and Trip could tell she was losing energy. He was quite exhausted himself, but he hid it quietly to assist her faltering steps. As they rounded the final corner she began to shake with each step until she stopped. Beside her he slowly reached for her right hand as it gripped the crutch. Encircling it with his, he looked down at her.

She opened her mouth to speak then paused and slowly closed it. He eyed her anxiously, waiting for whatever she had to say. It was frustrating him that he had to ask, that he couldn’t feel her inhibitions, her thoughts and her fears. She returned her attention to the crutches and slowly stretched out an arm to continue to the Situation Room.

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Doctor Phlox stood against the far wall of the Situation Room casually observing the mannerisms of his shipmates. Captain Archer paced along the wall closest to the door, waiting for his 2nd and 3rd in command to arrive.

Phlox noticed a peculiarity; many of the crew believed the Captain’s news had something to do with Commander Tucker and Commander T’Pol. He saw no indication of it himself that such was the case. Ensign Sato carried on a quiet conversation with Ensign Mayweather, while Mr. Reed sat near the front of the room. Phlox noticed he was unusually agitated, shifting from one posture to the next, the good doctor idly wondered if Malcolm would be visiting him with a medical problem soon. Beside Reed, chatting idly with him sat Lt. Anna Hess. In Commander Tucker’s absence she was designated senior engineering officer, much to Lt. Commander Kelby’s furious embarrassment.

The doctor didn’t realize in between uncomfortable shifts, Malcolm was sharing fleeting eye contact with the young communications officer. Finally the doors opened and every head turned to welcome the officers home. Their gaze was not without a degree of curiosity to see the rumored ‘couple’ and all that may have transpired in the week they had been on the surface.

T’Pol hobbled into the room, immediately drawing Captain Archer’s hand to her side but not without a warning hand and facial expression from Trip. She glanced at the Captain as he stopped in his tracks, confused about Trip’s reaction. T’Pol hesitated as the two interacted, then continued towards her place at the briefing table. Once she passed Trip as he stood by the captain, Trip whispered to the Archer. Suffice it to say, Archer was made aware that there are perils worse than death ahead of someone who dares to argue with a stubborn Vulcan fiancé. Though perhaps ‘fiancé’, was left out of it the warning.

When T’Pol found her seat, Trip came to her side and unlatched the crutches from her arms, laying them against the bulkhead out of the way. Ensign Sato watched the interactions carefully.

As the Commander removed them Hoshi took mental notes of Commander T’Pol’s reception of his closeness. As he unlatched the right crutch, she could have sworn his hand absently caressed the Vulcan’s wrist. When T’Pol didn’t seem to notice herself, Hoshi could hardly contain her surprise or the smile from her face.

Tucker then removed the far crutch as it was latched to her left arm, but instead of changing his position to her opposite side, he leaned in. From her right side Trip unlatched the left crutch, brushing his hair against her chin as he pulled himself back up to place the crutch near the wall.

She almost looked like she just….no!

Hoshi refused to believe what she just saw: A Vulcan not only suffer the touch of a man but at the fleeting contact his golden hair with her skin, release a slight gasp. It was the tiniest of movements, but the ensign knew body language and she had the ears of a Vulcan. I swear I heard a moan…

“Now,” Archer took a stance at the head of the able as the remaining officers sat or stood as Phlox preferred. Archer leaned on the head chair and broke a smile despite his attempt at an official appearance.

“Welcome back. It’s good to have you two home,” he smiled at the two. “Wooo!” Hoshi broke out amidst the applause emitting from the smiling crew around the table.

“Welcome back, Commanders!”

“Good to see you well!”

Trip thanked a few close friends while T’Pol remained mostly silent, nodding at a few of those she felt closer to than the others; Hoshi, Doctor Phlox, Jonathan Archer. Archer blinked a few times then stood up, straightening his uniform.

“We’ve been recalled to Earth,” Archer calmly declared. Startled and confused looks began to circle the table, Trip and T’Pol shared a glance.

The Captain’s gaze now turned to Trip. “T’Pol was attacked on Vulcan. Starfleet is concerned that the Vulcan High Council isn’t being forthcoming and they believe the situation could have serious political repercussions for Vulcan and Earth.” It was now T’Pol’s turn to look utterly confused.

Archer looked at her sincerely and continued, forcing himself to forget that he was sure half the crew already knew about what happened on Vulcan.

“The details aren’t important, only to understand that Starfleet wants the information from the horse’s mouth.” He avoided admitting in front of T’Pol that Admiral Gardner thought the Vulcans were lying to them, or at least omitting information. But she had Starfleet’s frustrations figured out for herself.

“Travis I want you to set a course for Earth, maximum warp. One more thing people,” Archer visibly paused. “Admiral Gardner doesn’t want any more attention brought to this matter than necessary,” you mean me and T’Pol, Trip thought.

“Myself, Commander T’Pol, Doctor Phlox, and Commander Tucker will be questioned by a hearing board of Starfleet Command and Councilman Soval. However, Admiral Gardner has issued a general order shore leave for the junior crew. That means you too,” he eyed Hoshi, Malcolm and Travis.

Archer turned to look poignantly at Lt. Hess, “None of the junior officers are to know of the investigation by Starfleet Command. This is a routine shore leave after several months in deep space, everyone understand?” Mutters and murmurs circulated but Anna understood and elevated herself above the rest.

“Yes sir!” she spoke articulately. Tucker made eye contact and nodded approvingly at her performance as engineering senior officer.

“That’s all, Travis set a course,” he nodded at the ensign, waiting for the officers to file out. “Yes sir.”

Everyone save the Captain, Trip and T’Pol vacated the Situation Room, returning to duty. Archer approached the two as T’Pol rose slowly, leniently allowing Trip to assist her in only the company of Jon. As she leaned on the engineer for balance, the Captain spoke.

“T’Pol, you’re still off duty for at least two more days. Doctor Phlox’s orders,” he smirked as she nearly rolled her eyes. Wonder if I really just saw that, Archer pondered.

He furrowed his brow at her, “I want you to take it easy, that’s an order. Once you’ve resume duty you’re on half duty shifts for another few days.” T’Pol tensed as she began to argue, “But Ca-” “No buts!” Archer demanded with a coy smile.

Walking past the two he turned back to his friend. Frowning dramatically he teased T’Pol, “Trip I don’t think she ever used to say ‘but’.” He turned back to T’Pol, “He rubbin’ off on you too much?” He left the room with a smirk as T’Pol huffed in defeat.

She looked to her mate for solace when he countered, “Don’t look at me, you’re gonna’ relax for the next few days,” he allowed his tongue to stroke the inside of his cheek. “And I’m gonna’ make sure of it!” T’Pol tilted her head in amusement and cocked an eyebrow at him. Suddenly his eyes grew heavy and he threw his arms out wide in a loud yawn. “Oh man, I am tired” he mumbled and stretched his arms out wide. She observed the behavior with interest.

Still wide-mouthed he snaked his arms around her waist and drew her closer, “Just how long did that thing take?” he inquired about the meld. T’Pol leaned in closer to him, allowing his arms to completely surround her waist and grip the fabric of her robes. Her face drew slowly across the edge of his cheek, feeling the softness of his recent shave.

Low and intimately she replied, “Solkar awoke us after nearly ten hours,” she stated matter-of-factly. The warmth of her breath tickled his ears, drawing his lips to her lower neck in response. Gratitude seeped from her lips in a low purr as she ground her lips into his shoulder, peeling the neckline of his silk shirt down. Pulling from his moist skin, she coolly returned his collar to appropriate position as he shot her a sidelong glance of amusement.

Trip then latched her crutches on gently while they exchanged fleeting touches, reassuring one another of their physical proximity without speaking.

As the two rose and she gripped his shoulder for support while still in the privacy of the empty room, the touch and closeness between them grew. But the bond had yet to return from the dormancy that veiled its power over them. With touch, glance, sway and an intangible grace, the two walked slowly towards her cabin.

To any observer it would have seemed, even without telepathic contact, the two still fit together like a hand and glove.

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*****************Back on Vulcan, Before Trip and T’Pol Returned to Enterprise************************

Trip stood, hand blocking the sun as he peered into the sand-colored sky, searching for the transport pod. Still far away, a shuttle made its way across the Vulcan desert en route to the Science Directorate hospital to carry Commanders Tucker and T’Pol back to Enterprise. Duffle bag slung about his shoulder, Trip squinted towards the building’s entrance, waiting for T’Pol to join him. Inside, her mentor and closest living relative spoke softly.

She sat unhappily in the wheelchair the doctors insisted she use for the next two days, holding the supplemental crutches across her lap. Her forefather stood nearby, approaching silently before turning to the two aids present.

“Leave us,” he commanded. The two departed without question.

T’Pol gazed out the window as the desert wind blew his golden strands out of place, his body silhouetted against the sand. Her gaze drove deep, searching desperately for his thoughts.

“You will not feel him again for two, perhaps three days, kan,” Solkar broke her from mourning the Bond. She looked to Solkar searchingly. He returned the gesture, clasping his hands and sinking to the floor to meet her eye level.

On his knees the Vulcan drew an appalled stare from T’Pol. A very un-Vulcan show of compassion drew him to her height and compelled his hand to her cheek. She trembled beneath his touch, honored by his care.

“Tela’at, Du’Pudor-torme,” Elder you honor me so, her voice shook precariously. He spoke gruffly, with the weight of years on his voice but with pride behind his words. “It is you who has honored Surak, our family, and our ways. This mate you have taken, while not a Vulcan, has proved himself worthy of his place in Vulcan society, with a Vulcan mate.”

“I do not understand,” she confessed. It was undeniable to T’Pol that she was irritated by the absence of the touch of Solkar’s thoughts to hear his meaning. Moments after the lovers awoke and found each other not present in one another’s mind, panic captured them. When he finally calmed them, it was explained that telepathic fatigue would block their thoughts for a short while.

“T’Pol you and Commander Charles Tucker initiated the meld to heal your condition,” he began. “However, in the Kir’shara, Surak teaches us that all mating bonds are meant to be completed with a mind-meld. It is the natural ability of all Vulcans, and the ultimate sharing experience between those joined.”

After a long pause he repeated the obvious. “You and your mate have performed this ritual, one which many that come after you for many centuries will adopt. When I sensed your connection to Mr. Tucker and it became clear to me that the meld was the only way to save you, I considered your life forfeit.” At this T’Pol was confused and a little hurt, while his thoughts were hidden from her, her disappointment was clear to Solkar.

“I did not believe this human could provide for you as another Vulcan could,” he scolded himself. His eyebrows drew together, “And perhaps I… did not approve that he had formed a mating bond with you, preventing you from forming one with a Vulcan who might have been able to heal you.”

He exhaled gruffly, “I can see now this was an error in judgment.” T’Pol regarded him thoughtfully, so very grateful of his approval.

There was a long pause before the two, finally Solkar rose to his feet. The shuttle had arrived and Trip was approaching the door from several meters off while Solkar prepared to escort T’Pol to the pod.

“You have chosen well, mi’kan. ” T’Pol watched Trip approach, the suns sparkling in his eyes, the winds tossing the material of his civilian clothes. In a bare whisper she replied.

“I do not believe I chose him. Nor did he choose me…” she recalled the words of her elder self, a knot nearly coaxing the words back down her throat. She looked up at him, suddenly a little girl again looking for understanding in her grandfather. “Someone I respect a great deal told me my heart would choose…” at this Solkar lifted a high eyebrow in mock disapproval.

“An organ choosing one’s mate is highly illogical, mi’kan. ” T’Pol’s gaze followed Tucker as he approached the building, now in sight he was clearly smiling broadly at her.

“My logic is uncertain where my Mate is concerned…”

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Chapter 11:

Trip sat at his desk the night they had returned to Enterprise glancing out the window at the stars whizzing by as they warped towards Earth. A week of crew evaluations, maintenance requisition forms and injury reports littered the desk. Only the pale reading lamp on the desk lit the room, a shadow hiding Trip’s face as it sank into a hand that pinched at his eyes.

All evening he had desperately tried to focus on the reports, to keep his mind off of what was missing. She’s prolly in bed, he thought, glancing at the chronometer. 0045 hours. With a quiet yawn he tossed through stacks of forms in the mess and finally pulled out the last order of business for the night. He hadn’t written the letter yet. Hell. How’m I gonna write a letter when half my head feels like it’s missin’.

Signing the bottom of Kelby’s transfer request he made a mental note to draft up a quick recommendation to Captain Hernandez for Kelby to be taken on as Chief Engineer of Columbia. The Enterprise could drop him off at space-dock when they reached Earth. By that time, he hoped, everything would be back to normal. Kelby’ll get his promotion; I’ll get my old job back, and…

What exactly was it? He couldn’t label exactly what was missing; he knew it was the presence of her thoughts, her feelings. As much as they shared each other during the meld and the bond, each had found in the other the qualities which they never knew they needed to be at peace. And now no peace could be found apart. We can’t ever be apart again.

He rose and snapped the light off, removing his civilian silk shirt and slacks. He slumped into his bunk with discomfort and uneasiness, like bein sent to bed without supper, Trip recalled from his childhood. He relaxed across the bed; throwing an arm across his forehead… curling up on his side… flattening out on his stomach… despite his efforts, comfort eluded him. The bunk was the same he had slept on for four years, and certainly as comfortable as the bed at the Research hospital… but it dug into his back, cramped his neck and unsettled his stomach. For the past three nights he had collapsed into bed on Vulcan after hours of exertion, torturous exhaustion. But now he realized he was a thousand times more at peace beside her in the most decrepit physical condition of his life than in this bed, alone.

Alone in his bed, alone in his thoughts, Trip Tucker lie quietly without sleep through most of the night.

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A few minutes after Trip finally fell into an uneasy sleep, T’Pol gave up. She sat in her quarters, fixated on a single golden flame as it flickered under the assault of her frustrated breath.

After catching up on what little she missed from the Science Department heads, T’Pol had retired to her quarters to meditate for one hour before sleep. The attempt was futile, her emotions were kept below the surface only by her fatigue rather than control. When she finally broke her pose and sought the comfort of dreamless sleep, she was again disappointed to find that rest refused to overtake her.

It was frustrating, and unheard of for a Vulcan to experience insomnia. Neuropressure therapy had been successful for Trip, but Vulcans did not require it for such primitive ailments. By the fifth time she tossed and turned over it became clear to her she had adopted a human mannerism, only magnifying her irritation. There will be no rest in this condition, she told herself.

She rose and relit the meditation candle to reach out for her Mate. The desperate desire to find his thoughts and feel his emotions touch her once again disturbed her, and she pushed the realization away. The appetite for his emotional chaos stuck out in her mind, distorting her focus on the goal of finding his mind once again. She retraced the last week in her mind, everything that had happened… everything that has changed. She realized the fear of losing control of his emotional bombardment was gone. She knew the power such emotions could have over a Vulcan and feared she was losing her mind if she didn’t fear such a power.

But I do not fear him, the danger his emotions represent when uncontrolled, why?

Emotions are only dangerous when they are reckless, without control. Vulcans control emotion, Humans do not. Trip has control of his mind, he shields powerful emotion from me to protect me when he must. I can trust him to protect me from them. It is logical for bondmates to share trust. Therefore it would be illogical to fear Trip’s emotions.

The triumph of Logic filled her with satisfaction; she could trust her mate and it did not make her irrational. Returning to the task at hand, the absence of fear drove her concentration deep. As the hours crept by and she did not move from the spot, the fear of hopelessness defeated rationality. Would she never find him again? But Solkar assured you it would return in time.

How does he know? Has he undergone such a procedure? No Vulcan has, you were the first to initiate a bonding meld. What if the Human mind cannot withstand it… what if I have permanently disfigured my chosen Mate?

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Things slowed down in the next few days for the Enterprise crew. Three days out from Vulcan and a mere day and a half from Earth, the junior crew were elated by the chance to get planet side. The crew hustled and bustled with vigor to the midday duty shift, attitudes were up and morale was soaring.

But amidst the good humor of her fellow crewmates, a restless and temperamental Vulcan wore a mask of shadows. Circles ran around her almond-colored eyes and while her physical condition was improving, there was a distance in her face as she walked to the Mess Hall.

“So what are you doing with your shore leave, Hoshi?”

Ensign Sato looked up from her PADD at Travis’ wide smile as he finished the last bite of Chef’s chicken pasta. She giggled as he slurped the pasta down and nearly lost a chunk of it on his lap.

“You sure wolfed that down,” she quipped, avoiding his question. The sultry science officer entered the Mess Hall, drawing a few inconspicuous glances as she retrieved her morning chamomile tea. The dark olive rings born around her eyes spawned the next day of curious gossip.

The conversing pair failed to notice the Commander’s entrance until she passed their table, drawing Hoshi’s interrogative gaze. Hoshi felt a clinch in her gut as she sat upright and opened her mouth to invite T’Pol to join them. Instantaneously changing her mind, she quickly slammed her lips shut and tensed into her seat. Already facing Hoshi, Travis watched the slideshow on her face with interest. He smirked and turned his head, baiting her to explain the montage of expressions she passed through.

“I was going to invite her!” she snapped at him with feigned zeal, once T’Pol had passed out of earshot. Travis chuckled before leaning back in his chair.

“So you didn’t answer my question,” he looked at her with an uneasy smile. Lowering her eyes to the table, Hoshi tensed as she searched for her meaning.

“I don’t know, I’m thinking about going to Brazil to see some old colleagues… but most of them have gone on to other things. I’ll drop by Kyoto and see my parents but I wasn’t planning on staying there the whole two weeks.”

Travis visibly swallowed, discomforted with the silence that followed her response. He had hoped to get his mind off what lie in store for his own shore leave. He stared into the table, quietly in contemplation.

Suddenly Hoshi noticed something didn’t feel right. Travis is quiet. Looking up she scrunched her eyebrows together, “What’s wrong with you?”

Ripped from thought, Mayweather was startled enough to destroy any hope of pretense. When he shook his head Hoshi glared at him.

“It’s just that… I haven’t made any plans for the time off,” he paused. She knew there was more to his silence, it wasn’t often Travis abstained from rattling her ear off over a meal.

“I have a meeting with Admiral Pike. I guess I’ve been a little too preoccupied to think much about anything else.” First Hoshi was shocked, then confused. “The head of Starfleet training,” she stated flatly. He nodded quietly, raising his eyes from the table.

“For…?” she gaped, letting her mouth drag open as she forgot the PADD that lingered in her hand.

“She wants to promote me. And make me a senior flight instructor for Starfleet flight school.”

“Wow!” she was stunned, but now confused. “Promote you?”

“What, is that so hard to believe?” he complained, the frown he wore surreptitiously morphing into a smile.

Hoshi tightened her face defensively, “Nooo,” she replied, playfully elongating the sound as it rolled off her trained tongue.

“I just don’t understand why you seem upset about it.”

He shifted in his chair, “I know I shouldn’t be, it’s a great opportunity. Few ensigns make it to Lieutenant at my age. But it’s the idea of leaving Enterprise. It’s like leaving home all over again,” he huffed. “And for Starfleet training all over again.”

Hoshi nodded respectfully, “I bet it was hard to leave a ship you grew up on.” Glancing around the room slightly she added, “I never liked being in space. But I’ve grown to think of this as home too,” her warm expression assuaged his frustration momentarily.

“It’s an incredible opportunity, the crew will be proud of you!” Despite himself, Travis smiled proudly.

“Whether you decide to go or not,” she reassured him.

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

Slouching at his console in the engineering office, Commander Tucker finally punched ‘send’ on the recommendation letter to Captain Hernandez. It had been a dry and emotionless recommendation but he couldn’t see any professional reason to deny the Lt. Commander, the man had the skills and experience for the job. Despite any punches they may have swapped.

He left the office half an hour after his shift was supposed to end when Lt. Hess badgered him for the fourth time to get out.

“Shoo! Go get some rest ya look like hell!” She spat at him, drawing appreciative smiles from a number of crewmen, Carly Ibanez among them.

“Gee thanks Lieutenant,” Tucker threw over his shoulder at her as he strode to the exit. Turning before he ducked through the hatch he returned, “I think you’re just pullin' for mah job.”

A bellow erupted from the tiny woman, “Maybe, but don’t worry I’ll keep you holed up in that office to do the paperwork for me!”

Trip laughed through the weights pulling on his eyelids and departed. The day had crawled by and unlike the dozens of other shifts he went through on little or no sleep, he noticed every minute of it. Every hour drew out like a blade, but something more than sleeplessness weighed on his shoulders. He had given up after the first fifteen minutes on trying to deny what it was.

But the whole day wasn’t forfeit. After running a set of reports up to the Captain, he found T’Pol at the quartermaster’s receiving a new uniform. Can’t wait to see her in that getup, he had thought.

*******************************************

“New uniform?” Trip asked as he bounded up to her. Startled by his presence, her scowl unintentionally hinted that she was displeased at his presence. Once again as she had many times that morning, T’Pol counted another misunderstanding the Bond would have nullified.

While T’Pol busied her thoughts on it, Trip was obviously un-offended by the shock she bore. “MMmm,” he whistled. As the Quartermaster prepared matching uniforms, Trip admired the extremely narrow waistline and low-cut neck. Handing her the uniform the Quartermaster left, allowing Trip to have even more fun.

Eyeing the golden-orange bodysuit, he slid in closer, intimately grazing her waist with a pair of fingers. The openness of the corridor forgotten, his limp fingers went rigid as he powerfully but lovingly pulled her closer. Pulling his eyes from the skintight clothing bundled in her grasp, his soft blue stare cooled the fire in her eyes. She forgot the bundle clutched at her waist under his eyes, unconsciously squeezing it tighter as his face trained harder on her own.

“I haven’t seen you much,” he whispered. T’Pol started as she realized his lips drew breath only centimeters from her own as he spoke. The anticipation devoured her control as her tongue wetted the inside of her own lips. There was a soft anxiety in his eyes, one she wished to penetrate and soothe away in his thoughts with her devotion but knew that ability had still not returned.

“You have been busy,” she gulped hard, trying to accept her own fabrication.

“Catchin’ up in engineering.” Trip smiled softly, pulling her roughly to meet his chest forcefully in the corridor. There was no warning to the maneuver; with no bond only his words spoke his mind to her. And T’Pol had learned over the years, with a hidden enjoyment, Mr. Tucker’s words hardly ever reflected the maelstrom of his thought processes. At first it had been insufferably frustrating. But as she began to understand his mannerisms and read his moods implicitly, pondering the meaning of his enigmatic words brought her fascination and enjoyment. Only recently could she inwardly confess the contentment it brought her.

Suddenly he was even closer, T’Pol idly wondered how the distance had been crossed without her notice. Had she done it? Had he?

Now with foreheads nearly touching, Trip whispered across the bronze of her cheek. “I can’t hear your thoughts, darlin,’ but I can still tell when you’re nervous,” a guilty smile clinging to him.

Now severed from the connection that had bound them in thought and feeling, without him physically close she never felt more alone in her life. But there was a chaotic thrill to the unpredictability staring at her passionately. When he pulled her close without any hint of the intention, her heart raced and for the first time in a long time, she did not know what would come next from Trip Tucker. A fever boiled in her, the yearning to remain as close to her now Bond-estranged Mate drove the inhibition out of sight and out of mind. She didn’t know what to expect in that corridor, but she liked it… and she hoped it would taste like Trip Tucker.

“Get a room!” Malcolm yelled dramatically as he came happily sauntering up the corridor.

Like a shock victim ripped from a live wire, the two flew apart and instantly the blind desire that filled the lovers abated into professionalism. Malcolm wore a satisfied grin as he strode past them, Trip beaming a disapproving glare. Malcolm’s ear-to-ear grin shattered on impact as T’Pol’s icy Vulcan sneer smashed into him. The shock of her disdaining appearance nearly stopped him mid-stride. She strained to reflect professional apathy but the disappointment of being ripped from Trip’s arms rendered the effort hopeless. The Vulcan’s emotional control faltered and a flare of the nostril startled Malcolm, sending him expediently on his way.

Clearing his throat he barely gurgled, “Commander,” as he looked to the floor and quickened his retreat.

Trip could only chuckle at T’Pol’s power over men, in more ways ‘n one . Looking over his Vulcan Mate with arms crossed, he chuckled softly through a proud grin.

****************************************************************

As Trip neared his quarters, hope for rest was rekindled amidst the fear of more sleeplessness. Why don’t you just go ask her for neuropressure, she’s your…

He had to think on that one, what was she? My mate? Was she still? It resounded with joy upon his last utterance but now it felt distant. Alien.

The gap between them grew with each passing day the bond remained broken and each felt the tremor of resounding aloneness in their mind. Passing through the door as it toned in reply, he quickly shed his uniform and blue undershirt. Collapsing into the bed, he hoped for solace this time. Just one night’s rest…

But like clockwork, hour by hour the night would not desist and sleep refused to come. In frustration he gripped the pillow and threw it into the air across his cabin. Dammit, this is crazy. He leapt out of bed and threw on the undershirt and a plain white civilian shirt. He was at the door before he looked down and saw only skimpy blue Starfleet garb covering his legs. He retrieved a gray pair of sweatpants and bustled out the door on a mission.

Approaching her quarters he suddenly realized that the last time he was there, he could feel her thoughts as he approached. By force of habit his thoughts sought her out again. Nothing. Emptiness.

He arrived, ringing the door chime. When T’Pol didn’t answer after the second ring he realized it was after 0200 hours and feared he might wake her. He turned away before looking back at the door. He huffed quietly in defeat, stamping off back to his quarters.

The turbolift arrived on his deck, the doors swooshing open. But as he lifted his head from its downward gaze as his cheek rested on the outstretched surface of his arm anchoring him to the wall, something caught his eye. A bright golden orange.

As he slowly stepped from the lift and walked curiously into the corridor towards her, he kept his approach quiet and squinted in thought. The irony was almost too much for him to contain at least a small chuckle, that each would seek one another out, unknown to the other. And all the while the secrecy of their excursions held by the lack of the very bond each sought to reestablish.

T’Pol stood at the door, impatiently pressing the chime for the third time when she crinkled up her nose. For a microsecond her eyes flared in recognition of his nighttime scent. Without turning to face him she spoke.

“It would appear we share an ailment,” finally turning to see him standing arms across his chest she kept her face empty and tone flat.

He dropped his arms and grinned, shuffling erratically towards her. “Ah ‘spose neuropressure is the ideal treatment?” She lifted an eyebrow at him, “Indeed.”

“I thought Vulcans didn’t experience insomnia?” he teased her. Matching his patient approach as they drew nearly half a meter apart she refuted, “I did not say I was having trouble sleeping.” The silly grin left his face and for a moment she was disappointed that he failed to see her meaning without a telepathic connection.

He devoured the distance between them in an instant and ran his arms up the length of the silky golden material covering her like an Egyptian goddess. She responded with equal courage to his physical closeness.

“I have,” her voice cracked in a whisper before she could continue. “Missed you as well, t’hy’la,” she cooed, lifting a hand to run it through his hair. Her eyes followed the tips of her fingers as they dove beneath the surface and combed through the dark roots as the golden ends ran past the edges of her knuckles. His hands migrated down her side, wrapping around her tiny but powerful frame and pulling her willing body nearer. He pushed forward, brushing his lips across her cheek, her hand impulsively gripping the nape of his neck. Whispering softly he sent her the contentment in words they could not speak in thought.

“I’ve missed it too, every minute,” the hot breath goading her slipping control. He spoke again but the words only rumbled in a muffle as he dove into her neck. Her head tilted back, giving him access to her olive flesh as he relished its taste and inhaled the scent of honey from the traces of hair on her neck as it receded to her back.

A whimper escaped as she parted her lips in ecstatic contentment, suddenly aware they had to stop making out in the middle of the hallway at 2 am. “Perhaps we should,” she paused when his tongue danced down her neck.

“Adjourn to alleviate your sleeplessness, in my quarters. I believe neuropressure is likely to be effective.” She begged her control to hold on by a thread as his tongue continued to torment and tantalize her. Scrawling his vows in passionate language, the quill of his tongue traced volumes along her scalding flesh.

“We,” her voice now only utterances swimming in a sea of guttural groans. “Must go!” she finally declared, pulling away from him and yanking him by a hand down the corridor.

As she drug him into the darkness of his quarters, peeling the golden jumpsuit from her shoulders at the same time as his white tee shirt – fatigue and sleep never seemed so trivial.

Notes: If some of you were hoping for more details about the meld don’t worry, they’re coming. As the penultimate completion of the relationship between our favorite couple, its details will be seared into their memories and constantly come back to remind us how their love was cemented.

Throughout the series the two will recall, dream, and see the experiences from the meld; reminding us and them how deeply and unconditionally they are bound together.

Part I, sec. 6 (Chapters 12-13)

Return to Part I, sec. 4 (Chapters 8 & 9)

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A whole mess of folks have made comments

OO me first!

Hey, don't keep us waiting for the bond to come back for too long *sharpens pointy stick*.

Nice, nice, very nicely done. More, please, this plot keeps getting better and better! :)

This is heating up! #3 :)

More great stuff in this post! Geez, John - you make it very hard to be patient for the next post! **...hint, hint...**

Ok Im gona take shot in the dark,,;) ok probably not that hard of a guess,,, But im bettin that after their lil )0200 meet an great,, their bond comes back.
Ok done guessin,, Loved this chapie. Loved how much it hurt them to loose just a lil of each other even if only for a short while.. Great chapter,, cant wait for the next one.

"Scrawling his vows in passionate language, the quill of his tongue traced volumes along her scalding flesh."

0ooo great line!

I loved this, hope it isn't too long until the next part. So relieved that Trip and T'Pol are going to get together and not suffer being apart for no good reason I can think of! And I can't wait until they also get their bond back. This time stronger and shinier than ever. Hope the starched shirts back on Earth don't try to mess that up. Ali D :~)

Your writing just gets better and better, John. The word choices here were wonderful. Nothing distracted me from actually seeing what was happening. Marvelous job.

i loved it and cant wait for the next part and please dont take so long this time around

i loved it cant wait for the next part keep it comming and done take so long for the next part

Another superb story. Can't wait for the next part.

Fantastic! I can't wait for the next part and for the return of their Bond! Please keep it coming, I'm loving every minute of it!

Lovin' it, still! I can't wait for more!