Your Mom 'n Me - Part I - sec. 6, PG-13

Your Mom n' Me

By John O.

Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: See Part 1
Spoilers: “Affliction,” “Bound,” maybe further but unintended.

A.N.: Full notes in previous parts.

In this release we see Trip and T’Pol finally make fantastic love for the first time since they’ve bonded ;)

Solkar and T’Pau debate, Soval has Trip’s back and Trip n’ T’Pol begin exploring San Francisco. More of that will follow in Ch. 14. Enjoy!

Special Thanks to y2kelly, Wenya and Jana for support and creative critcism!

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Part 1: Startling Discoveries

Section 6 (Chapters 12 & 13)

Chapter 12:

The door swooshed open, revealing Trip’s dark cabin. Through ragged breath she pulled his shirt up, sending her fingers into a voyage across his body.

His bare chest was revealed in an instant, T’Pol’s starving hands consuming his flesh in their grasp as she scaled his chest. Their lips were locked in a feverish assault with a fiery passion driving their tongues into delicate waltzes.

He couldn’t help but run his hands up and down her slick sides, enjoying every curve and crevice as the material of the golden suit clung to her body. His shirt on the floor, their feet slowly made baby steps across the floor, their attentions dominated by the deliberate caresses of each other’s lips. T’Pol withdrew from his tongue’s furnace and swallowed hard while her chest heaved and her skin glowed a soft olive.

Her eyes shone with a single-minded intent he had never seen before – not in her eyes on Vulcan, not even when she lost control in the Expanse. All else was out of sight and out of mind, nothing existed but the two of them. Gracefully, his anxious fingers freed her of her garment. Suddenly, it hit her that this was the destination all paths before her had led her to. Before him, her lover, her friend, her mate… T’Pol was completely bared. Her unclothed body he had seen before, but before him beamed emotions unhindered; before him her trust ran as deep as the Vulcan heart goes.

Broiling desire surged within T’Pol as she struggled to hold on, to grasp the ledge that pricked at her fingers and the chasm below that begged her to fall and land roughly. She had never felt such desire, so much purer than the carnal passions of Pon Farr, she desired to give herself to him. To belong to him, and to do with him as she pleased.

Before they knew it she was in his gentle arms again. Bathed in her own contradictory emotions, allowing so much to the surface nearly bewildered her. She dropped her neck onto his shoulder as he kissed her soft skin. His mouth teased her skin, drawing the Vulcan’s eyes to the ceiling. A foreign passion tingled in her mind, replenishing the wounded bond. It met with overpowering tranquility as she relaxed in his arms, every fiber of fear slowly whittling away under the slow and steady lapping of his feelings against her. And she let go.

Arousal, passion, need, jealousy; every Vulcan vestige bore through the surface as the last bastion of hesitation washed away. He must be only MINE! Spoke her volatile insides. Her temperature rose, skin beading with sweat as he continued to kiss and lick from her shoulders now down her neck. Onto her chest, oh no… her eyes bulged and chest heaved, her hand thrust behind his head, gripping his neck and tugging at his hair. I will hurt him, I can’t hurt him! I, I… ! TRIP!

Suddenly he ripped away from her skin, gazing intently into her eyes.

T’Pol? “T’Pol…” he echoed softly into the emptiness. The bond had returned with vigor, pulling a smile tugged to his swollen lips, drawing several blinks from T’Pol. He rested in her arms, so peaceful. Could I harm him? She met his eyes as he twitched with the words that echoed through the bond. Pulling her face to his, he whispered something nearly inaudible into the shell of her ear, sending a crisp shudder down every nerve.

Several moments passed, holding each other in his quarters before he drew her close again and met her forehead. Landing a soft kiss on her mouth he smiled through a whisper.

“I’m back sweetheart,” he managed through misty eyes as a hand went up to stroke her hair. Her eyes darted to avoid his glance, eliciting a confused frown.

“What is…” he stopped.

What is it T’Pol?

She swallowed hard, finally meeting his eyes and bringing her naked limbs to cradle his face. Wrapping her hands around his neck, she brought her lips inches from his before whispering.

“You are my mate, it is logical to trust you,” his confusion quickly washed away with the invasion of his mouth. Hard, feverish kisses bruised his lips and he begged for more. The remaining meters to his bunk were crossed nearly midair as she pulled him to the bed, nearly stripping his sweat pants off in one swoop.

They hit the bed, Trip atop her as she allowed her legs to fall around his sides. The warm air about the cabin baked the two as they tended to one another as mates, consummated in the least-Vulcan of Vulcan rites.

“These are in the wa-” she muffled into his mouth as her foot rose quickly, violently shoving away the stubborn fabric of his slacks. Her eyes found themselves locked in need on his, grabbing his face in her arms and pulling him forcefully to meet her lips. His right hand found the curves of her body, teasing the fire from its center to irradiate from her skin. Her mouth leapt open into the blackness, whispering his name while her hips spoke their own language.

She cried out for him as he adored his mate, a panic of loving imagery permeating the bond. Taking tufts of hair into her grip she cried out as he sated an old hunger lying long quieted. Her eyes brimmed with fluid as waves lapped over her, watching his gaze and feeling his excitement building.

Throughout the night in his arms the bond began to rebuild, the powerful passions in each reverberating through it, healing it. He meticulously sought her every inch, pleasured her in every way and held his passions at bay to please her. She released the last respite of hesitation and let herself go to him in his wailing passions.

She threw him on his back and found his rough kiss, moving her fingers to his cheeks. But her haste suddenly dropped off, her kiss slowly taking his lower lip, one hand cradling his face. Her right hand sought the contact points on his left jaw as she pulled away from his kiss, drawing his gaze to her hand then back to her eyes. When he felt her fingers on him, he instantly understood her intention. Her hand radiated the fire that lit her inside, bringing him to complete attention.

His hands roamed her body as she hovered a few inches above him. He moved to mimic the meld-placement of his hand on her face. His breath began to quicken as they drew closer, as he yearned for her closeness.

With a sudden collapse as her body came crashing into his, he was inside her body, surrounded by her soul and embraced by her heart. She held him against her flesh, moving deeply into a melding of body, mind, and spirit. Joined in all ways, through all barriers - the lovers completed the rite of Vulcan bonding. Finally combined, the two became one and each became both. His passion, her strength. His loyalty, her logic. His love, her awe. His contentment, her trust. And their soul.

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A soft Mississippi breeze sent chimes on Mrs. Tucker’s front porch into motion, the music lifting her head towards the house. She lived for tending her rose bushes, especially this early in the spring season. Soon the winds would come out of the south, the summer humidity rendering outdoor work nearly unbearable. It was then, as she glanced towards the music of the wind chimes that she spotted Charles on the deck, standing near the door of the house. A flowered work-glove went up to shade the sun as she squinted under the Mississippi sun.

“There’s a message from Starfleet, says Trip’s comin’ home!” his voice carried across the grass to his wife a few dozen meters from the wraparound porch. She dropped her clippers with a joyful sigh and approached the front door.

“That’s wonderful!” she called out, approaching Charles Tucker junior, who was beginning to gray in his mid sixties. Engineering was his life, like his son, but retired from Starfleet many years earlier. He stood nearly two meters tall, sporting an impressive build at his age and stubborn wit to match. He hadn’t taken a liking to retirement, pulling some strings with Trip to procure specs on the latest Warp 5 designs. Keeping his mind busy in retired life with his wife had been the only way to forget… the only way to forget.

She reached the porch, sighing with the recess of the sun’s blinding light. She pulled the sun-hat from her hair, shaking her long golden-grayish hair until it hung below her shoulders. Throwing an arm around the old man she smiled as they turned to retreat into the cool air conditioning of their home.

“Did you speak with him?” she asked, visibly sighing as the cool air surrounded them. Charles continued to the kitchen while she dropped down on the sofa, watching him as he prepared the midday meal.

“No,” he frowned. From her view on the sofa the living room lie in front of her, a sectional couch to her right and the kitchen a dozen meters in front. A divisional wall hid the area of the kitchen for food preparation from Kathryn Tucker, the dining room centered about a large rectangular table between the kitchen and sitting area. As Charles retreated from view his voice echoed between the walls as he continued from inside the kitchen.

“It was an automated message. It just said the Enterprise crew was granted shore leave and due back late tonight.” He cracked an egg and it audibly popped and sizzled.

“You’re not using those synthetic eggs are you, dear?” Charles smiled into the pan as he tossed the whisker about, sprinkling salt into the yoke blend as his wife liked.

“No, hon, only the organic ones,” he dropped the whisker to the stove and leaned in to the spice cabinet.

“With a bit a’ that spice, just like you like em’!” He muttered the next words under a smirk, “whatever n’ the hell it’s called,” but either through her trained expectation or great hearing, he was caught.

“It’s PAPRIKA!” she called out with a smile. His head peaked around the dividing wall with a pan of sizzling eggs in hand, “Whatever!” he smirked.

Kathryn giggled, her mind turning over the news. She was relieved to have Trip home, after so many months since his last visit she had begun to worry about him. His letters lost the boyish good humor painted all over his early letters, even since Elizabeth’s death. She heard from him less and less lately, and she noticed he no longer spoke of T’Pol. Normally, omitting the mention of the executive officer would be trivial, but Kathryn suspected they became close friends by the sound of Trip’s early letters. When he spoke of spending more time with her on Vulcan after the Xindi mission she was surprised and a little concerned.

Trip has always shared his father’s feelings about the Vulcans, how could he have changed so drastically? And this woman feeling anything for him?

“It’s going to be so nice to have him home again, he hasn’t been here since…” she broke off, cursing her forgetfulness. When the whisker hit the floor she gasped, forcing her mouth with a hand. It was no secret Charles had taken his baby girl’s death worse than anyone, even Trip. A few moments later she recuperated to speak.

“I’m sorry, honey,” she nearly whispered in a low voice.

In the kitchen Charles stared off aimlessly, emptiness in his eyes. Elizabeth ran downstairs, clunking her platform shoes loudly as she wobbled into the living room. With a bright smile she twirled in her mother’s sun dress as it draped clumsily over the girl’s feet and covered the floor. The seven year old beamed a toothless grin, throwing her golden hair in the air as she twirled proudly, giggling all the while. Suddenly the memory of his own laughter echoed painfully, summoning the empty kitchen to appear around him. As quickly as it had come to him, the image of his daughter was gone.

He blinked roughly, wiping an eye clear of its salty pool. He glanced back towards his wife’s direction, frowned to himself and picked up the whisker. Washing it off, he turned back to his eggs to change the subject.

“If only they’d given us shore leave so often back n’ the early days, I’d a’ spent more time with mah family,” he admonished.

“You spent plenty, sweetheart,” she reassured him.

“They’re proof of that, look at how great they turned out,” she smiled to herself with a hint of bitterness as she thought of Charles III and Elizabeth, the memory of her daughter’s death renewed in her mind. She had been hit just as hard by the loss as her husband, but all through her life Liz had just been more of a ‘daddy’s girl’. Trip and his mom held the same special bond, the family growing within those delicately woven threads. When one of their threads was cut, everyone felt the loss. But somehow Charles was never the same.

“Well us lowly noncoms didn’t ‘xactly get the silver spoon treatment the officers did either,” he smiled proudly, recalling the first time he saw his boy put that pip on his chest. An’ now he’s got three of em, he shook his head in disbelief and sincere pride.

The two were silent for the next few minutes as Kathryn rested her head on the couch, thinking of all the warm things mothers expecting their sons home think.

Charles came to the door with pan in hand, “Lunch is re-” suddenly interrupted by the familiar squawk of the videochat.

“Incoming Call,” came the sound of the computerized voice. Then a loud screech of electronic scrambles ceased with the incoming voice. Charles returned the pan to the plasma stove, his wife up in moments and across the room to the transmitter.

“Mom, dad? Ya there?”

“Charles, honey!”

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As they fell into each other’s arms, T’Pol softly rolled into his heaving body as he gasped for breath. She needed his warmth, his endearing intimate attentions that no Vulcan could possibly match. It was the human ability to relish and prolong physical intimacy that set them apart from the wild and violent Vulcan episodes of Pon Farr.

“Fascinating,” she whispered thoughtfully, unaware the words came out.

She landed on her back, hair wild and carnally splayed out of order. Hair spiky with sweat and his mouth slightly open still catching his breath, Trip collapsed partially on top of her.

He snickered into her skin as he kissed it warmly, “ ‘ Fascinating’ huh? ”

His arm snaked its way across her abdomen as he lightly kissed her collarbone and sighed into her skin. Burying his head into her neck he glanced up at her before closing his eyes and smiling, a silent smile escaping before he could stifle it. The bond, however, broadcasts all.

She was drawn from a meditative silence by his disturbance. She glanced down at him, shifting towards him and leaning in close to her t’hy’la’s face.

“You find my state of disarray amusing,” she stated in her colloquial flatness. Laughing openly he confessed, “It’s so much different than I’m used tah’ seein’ ya,” he panted.

“I believe arduous physical exertion has the same effect on all humanoids’ state of composure.” And with her cold statement she hotly drove her mouth into his. The slow kiss interminably burned his mouth as he stroked her sculpted torso.

When she released him he looked back at her with a coy smile, clearing his throat.

“Arduous, huh?” and with that he straightened himself up, threw his hands behind his head and put on a very satisfied smile. A cocky gesture, his tongue darted to the corner of his cheek just as she embraced his exposed torso and brought her lips up inches from his.

me more than my words can describe. In a bit of embarrassment and endearment he stared at her, his arrogant smile disappearing into a soft look of appreciation. His arms came down, encircling her warm body and drawing her as near as he could. He shook his head lightly, eliciting a twitch of T’Pol’s eyebrows.

You are so amazin’ T’Pol, you satisfy me like nothin’ else could. In a moment both arousal and fright caught him as she assaulted him in one quick moment. Looking at him with primal intent, she fell around and atop him once again. He sank into her warmth, the fire of her touch relinquishing to a soft embrace.

Hours later the lovers fell into calm and companionable sleep, their bodies tucked into each other’s warmth. As they dozed, her human companion’s meandering thoughts fell once again to the mind meld. The firelight of the cave returned to his mind but soon it melted away before a slew of memories and images.

********************Trip’s Dream Recalling the Meld************************

The tenderness of her kiss the night she got jealous of Amanda Cole, the hunger of her fingers on his face. Suddenly a flash of light and he saw T’Pol in an EV suit, clawing at a Trellium cargo container and jamming a chunk of the ore into a vaporizer. Then in her quarters, a dozen different scenes passed before Trip’s eyes as she pushed a hypospray of Trellium vapor into her neck and threw her head back. A flood of fire and chaotic sound and fury swarmed around the image of T’Pol as her eyes grew clouded with desire. The montage warped again into T’Pol’s shower, she was heaving and gasping for more of another Trip’s kisses, wrapping her arms around him, constricting him like a violent serpent. Are these her memories or her dreams? He asked himself…is that Sim? She never told me her and Sim… Suddenly he saw himself standing in her quarters, she was a few meters away in her silky blue pajama outfit, but before Trip could admire the sight he saw a torrent envelope her. The figure of Trip spoke, “but what kills me is I don’t know if these are my feelings, or his…” that must be Sim. T’Pol spoke a hint above a whisper and her voiced cracked while the yellow and red thunderstorm surrounding her electrified and startled Trip’s own senses.

He suddenly felt like he was losing his own control, overwhelmed with desire to reach out and embrace …Sim?! What in the hell am I doin here wantin to make out with my clone…

Experiencing T’Pol’s feelings confused him at first, but soon he began to understand that the meld showed him her thoughts, feelings and memories. Washed away like sand in a vicious wind, the images reformed and he recognized his cabin. T’Pol sat on his bunk and he stood against his desk, the morning of the attack. A pink and light blue haze circled over T’Pol’s head as he watched the encounter between himself and his disquieted visitor. As the other Trip leaned in closer to T’Pol and concern flooded his eyes the busy circles atop T’Pol bustled into a wider arc, radiating in blue and velvet until it grew and burgeoned into something new. With a mighty blast, Trip was taken off his feet and suddenly stood looking at T’Pol as he had in his quarters that morning. He was now in his own place in this memory. She looked at him quizzically as his brows hit his hairline and he peered up into the air, curiously searching for the tumultuous winds of light he witnessed surrounding her. In its place flowed a calm and tranquil ocean, sublime with every hue of the violent storms. Circling about the two of their heads, its edges slowly began to bend and surround the two, drawing them closer until her hands drew up his chest-

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Later that morning, T’Pol sat rigidly in sickbay, a bit of irritation beginning to infect her voice.

“Doctor, I assure you I have fully recovered,” she insisted. Phlox gave her an incredulous look as he peered up from his tricorder.

“Commander you were in a near-death coma for a week only three days ago, you are not fully recovered! Although…” his eyes fell to the tricorder once more.

His voice fell to a muffle, “You are progressing quite rapidly,” T’Pol acceded her victory with an eyebrow. He snapped the tricorder shut and smiled, “Your physical examination is in good order, you may go Commander.”

As T’Pol stood to leave, Commander Tucker entered sickbay. Phlox gave T’Pol a nod and turned to Trip, “May I help you Commander?” not forgetting his inhumanly large smile.

“Actually I came to find T’Pol,” he smiled weakly as he passed Phlox.

I did not sense you coming…

Oh…I guess the bond isn’t completely back yet.

He approached her silently with a broad smile. He leaned in to whisper, unconsciously turning to ensure their isolation.

“Do you have a minute?” She nodded, making for the exit.

My quarters…

They walked side by side in silence until reaching his door, and entered. She turned towards him and he paced a few steps, rubbing his neck. Standing rigidly with fingers clasped in the back, her posture hardly revealed the concern building at the Commander’s unease. She could hear only pieces of his thoughts when not directed at her and respected his mental privacy until the bond returned in full power. Then they would practice a total sharing of thought, but now he was pacing, trying to broach some revelatory piece of information. T’Pol looked on in confusion, but waited.

Finally he turned to her suddenly as if to get it out before it escaped him. “I want you to meet mah parents,” he looked on her, clearly anxious of her response. She blinked a few times and walked slowly towards him. His hands instinctively sought hers, intertwining their fingers.

“It is logical that I would meet your family now that we are bonded, why would you fear this?” she asked earnestly. He squinted at his own confusion, pulling her hands to his mouth to kiss her knuckles.

Believing he attempted to change the subject she tightened her face and stared at him coldly, rigidly holding her fingers immobile against his lips. He felt her stiffness and peered up from the gesture, a guilty smile tugging at his face.

“Ok,” he admonished. “I’m kinda nervous is all, it’s just,” he scratched his head, running a hand through his hair as he turned towards his bunk and sat on the edge.

“I don’t know how they’re gonna take this, us…you,” he stuttered the final word and then instantly regretted it. Her eyes remained steady on his. Moving slowly she joined him on the bunk. Her mind worked carefully over his words, a hint of concern in the recesses of her mind toiling for dominance with her control. It distressed her that his family would reject her, she knew he could be forced to choose between his family and her. What if they will not accept a Vulcan mate…

“You believe your parents will find a Vulcan mate to be inadequate?” She tried her best to sound level and objective, but her voice faltered and the bond could not be hidden. He could distinguish anxiety in her, deeply hiding behind her suppression.

“No, no! It’s not that at all,” he sputtered. He gulped, searching the ceiling for answers before meeting her eyes again.

“I’m just not sure how they’re gonna take all this at once, I mean, T’Pol in mah family marriage is a big deal. They might be real sour at me for bringin’ it all up sudden, never tellin’ em we were datin’ or anything.”

Her eyes narrowed and stared off into the corner, analyzing his words carefully. The scientist in her picked apart his conundrum, analyzed the resolutions and spoke with measure.

“So you believe your parents would prefer if we shared a human ‘courtship’ before declaring betrothal?” She put it so flatly, it made him realize the fault in his concern – they weren’t a human couple.

Their relationship developed out of as much a Vulcan way of thinking as much as a human way of feeling. They would understand the reasons he never mentioned their relationship…it just sorta happened, he rationalized to himself. After all, she was married to Koss and then she re-examined her faith, no time left for Trip. It seemed like events threw them into life with a psychic bond, life with her love. That’s it, he was convinced. They oughta be happy for us, it’s just how it happened. But he couldn’t hide the sigh that came with the uncertain words.

Pulled from his thoughts by her interrogative gaze, he gently smiled and squeezed her hands tighter, shaking his head.

“Nah, it’s gonna be fine…I did tell em’ about you,” he teased, reminded of the day he asked her the same question regarding her mother before visiting Vulcan. The thought was picked up clear enough by T’Pol through their closeness, compelling an endearment as warmth flowed from him.

I regret you were forced to experience the ceremony, t’hy’la.

I would have caused you less pain if we had betrothed, not I and Koss.

“Shh,” he whispered as he shifted and leaned in close to her. Whispering to her lips as he caressed them with his he continued.

“We’re here now, that’s all that matters T’Pol.”

She raised her two fingers as he had mimicked in sickbay only a week ago… what seemed so long ago. He responded in kind, a shock of intimate closeness assailing him for a moment at the contact.

“Wow,” his eyes widened a bit. “I can definitely get used ta’ that,” smiling he pulled her closer. Her eyes softened as his crystal blue gaze held them in silence. Suddenly she was shaken from her calm thoughts.

“I must report back to duty,” but she knew inside she didn’t want to leave. He smiled warmly, drawing closer to her lips but stopping short. Inches short of her lips he looked up at her, smirking as he baited her to finish the job. She merely raised an eyebrow before attacking his lips passionately.

Coming up for a breath he could only watch as she slinked away in her golden orange body suit, nimbly leaving his quarters empty and his uniform very tight.

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Chapter 13:

“Dishonesty is not our way, Chancellor T’Pau.”

She turned to the elderly Vulcan, her face momentarily scrunched into dismay. Quickly she regained and strode across the conference room. The walls were of hard, red stone like much of the planet. The room was circular, a long desk offset towards one side while the only window poured in the beating Vulcan sun. The glass lined the wall about ten meters up, circling the room with the wall from end to end, reaching another three meters high, where the wall continued up. The ceiling stretched nearly fifteen meters, as T’Pau strode calmly from one end in an arc she did not meet Solkar’s steady gaze.

“I did not lie to him, I omitted certain sensitive information regarding an ongoing investigation.” When she finally braved his stare, Solkar held her eyes for several moments, slowly letting out a long breath. His eyebrows lifted high then sank into his brow, entrenched as he nearly scowled.

“Many times did similar words defend Administrator V’Las’ militant policies, mi’kan,” he stepped forward. “I do not believe your motives for withholding information from the humans mimics V’Las, however you must follow a wiser path than he to lead our people in these dangerous times. Be always weary and critical of deception and dishonesty, it is almost never the Vulcan way,” he warned.

“The DNA recovered from the syringe is inconclusive. We have no basis of comparison for their race to make a conclusion regarding the assailant’s identity.” Solkar took several meditative steps with his hands clasped at the edge of his robes.

Finally he turned towards the Chancellor. “Regarding the information collected during our investigation of V’Las, it is logical to conclude this attacker was connected to them,” Solkar came closer to the Chancellor. “The evidence is not conclusive on its own, but the whole picture must not be lost in this detail. I know you fear the biological revelation V’Las’ secret research uncovered with Human breeding, and I share your apprehension,” he stared at her with an icy expression. “But we must not continue the deception that V’Las allowed to drive our society astray.”

When the Chancellor acceded in silence, he continued. “The doctor of the Earth-vessel is resourceful, I recommended him for the Earth-Denobula Medical Exchange program myself. He will likely deduce from his analysis of the compound that this attacker was not Vulcan, but something similar.”

“If they discover the truth despite our assistance, they will likely suspect information was withheld from them. Starfleet is already suspicious that our report was not all-inclusive regarding our findings.” His face became sterner and the years lifted once again from him.

“T’Pau we cannot pursue a course of action that would further damage Vulcan relations with Starfleet,” Solkar’s brow furrowed. He frowned deeply, drawing T’Pau’s stare. He spoke shakily, barely above a whisper. “Especially in these turbulent times,” T’Pau regarded him thoughtfully, drawing him from deep thought.

His professional tone resumed, “Chancellor, Vulcan cannot alone face the threats that may lie before us.”

His shoulders sank visibly while the young Chancellor dissected the facts of the situation. Her rough exhale and tensing muscles told him she agreed with his argument.

“Your logic is flawless and… perhaps you are correct Tela’at.”

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“Mom, dad? Ya there?”

“Charles, honey!”

Kathryn’s boisterous voice called out before she came into view of the communicator. Suddenly she appeared with her tall, gray-haired husband by her side, arms casually at each others’ waist.

“Hi mom,” he beamed through a smile. “Dad, it’s good ta’ see you guys.”

Kathryn unconsciously squeezed her husband in contentment. “When are you coming home Charles, honey?”

“We’re anxious ta’ see ya son,” his dad echoed with his baritone voice.

“Me too dad – mom we should be arriving in about six hours,” Kathryn smiled broadly as Trip squinted slightly.

“I’m afraid I won’t be comin’ home right away. Starfleet wants to have some meetings with me, T’Pol, the Cap’n and Phlox; about what happened on Vulcan a few days ago.”

“Honey what did happen? We got a strange message last week that you could be in danger and then an automated message saying you were fine. When we tried to find out what the confusion was all they would tell us is that you were all right.”

“I’ll explain what I can later mom, it’s kinda complicated,” he suddenly realized they were dancing around the reason he had even been on Vulcan.

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “There’s somethin’ else, I’m bringin’ a friend home,” he winced at his improper use of the word. It wasn’t the right one, he knew it. But he didn’t want to get into explaining over a subspace communiqué why he had a fiancé they didn’t know about. Not to mention a Vulcan one. He could only imagine how that was going to go over with his Father. That’s gonna hafta come later, Trip thought, and he wasn’t looking forward to it.

Confused but a happy nonetheless, Kathryn straightened up, “Oh Trip you know Jon is welcome in our house any time, you don’t have to ask!”

Trip smiled briefly then jumped to explain. “No, no mom uhm… It’s not Jon, actually he’s kinda’ tied up with meetings,” Kathryn’s smile faded slightly.

“Oh, well that’s too bad, you tell him he’s welcome to zip on over for supper if he gets a free evenin’,” her finger suddenly jutted up playfully at Trip.

“I’ll not have a friend of this family eatin’ that dreadful space food while a home cooked meal’s waitin’ for him!” Trip smiled at his mom but knew he had a revelation to break.

“I’m bringin’ T’Pol,” he finally blurted. Their silence prompted him to force an excuse, “She showed me her home, and I wanted to return the favor. We’ve gotten to be pretty close an’ I’d like to have her as a guest at our house while I’m home.” He knew ‘pretty close’ wasn’t a lie, but it was far from the truth as well. His head sank with a boyish smile as he thought of T’Pol in his grandparents’ old country home his folks now lived in. He thought of all the things they could do, the experiences they could share that she never went anywhere near while holed up in that Vulcan compound.

“A Vulcan?” his father gaped, he hadn’t thought before it came out, a trait easily distinguishable to have been passed to his son. “Charles!” his mother whispered harshly to him, jutting him with her arm. He winced at his mistake rather than the blow of her elbow, as Trip tried to hide his concern.

But the expression betrayed the pretense and his mother instantly knew something was going on. But with a Vulcan? She knew this was not the place and smiled warmly. “Of course she’s welcome in our home,” his father held her close to his side. Compelled to apologize, Charles junior spoke up to avoid being in the doghouse tonight.

“We’re just happy you’re home son, any friend a’ yours is welcome in our home,” Trip smiled as they ended the transmission.

The smiling couple disappeared, and Trip realized he was more concerned than ever how T’Pol would be taken into his family. His heart told him his parents were loving people, that they would accept anyone that made him happy.

But dad’s hated Vulcans all his life… Serving under Henry an’ all. A sigh escaped him as he hit the desk chair and called out to his mate. Hoping his thoughts had been shielded from her, he desperately didn’t want T’Pol to be afraid of not being accepted into his family. And his mother, would she believe a Vulcan could care for him?

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As the Enterprise hung motionless in the Galileo Docking Ring, most of her crew had been planet-side for the past two days since her arrival. The debriefings with Starfleet were very unremarkable, the admirals painstakingly combing every detail of the events surrounding ‘Dr. Sevel’ and T’Pol’s attack. Forced to repeat themselves many times, Archer and Trip quickly tired of Starfleet’s redundant questioning regarding ‘Dr. Sevel’ and the attack itself.

Phlox had been most heavily questioned of all since it was his expertise that revealed the most information about the compound. The revelation that it was expressly designed to target T’Pol’s reproductive ability raised the most questions. More than a few times he was asked if there had been any sign to lead him to believe T’Pol was pregnant, as he adamantly insisted there was not.

Even the friendly doctor’s patience wore thin by the end of the interviews. But after two days the admirals finally “officially concluded the unofficial meetings”, whatever the hell that means, Trip thought. He and T’Pol had been questioned by two different boards about whatever they could remember regarding ‘Dr. Sevel’.

Soval had carefully watched over the hearings. He always sat at the table very quietly, rarely asking a question and only to T’Pol if he ventured one. Many moments Trip felt a gaze steadily studying him and turned to find Soval the culprit. To many, Soval remained passive and may have often even appeared bored, but when Solkar’s methods were questioned T’Pol’s eyes were pulled by his powerful stare. Trip’s attention was on the Vulcan as well, but suddenly pulled away by a more serious accusation.
-----------------------

“What?” Trip gaped. Admiral Jones looked coldly at Commander Tucker.

“Isn’t it possible that Professor Solkar was involved,” Trip was rendered incapable of response by the absurdity of the question. T’Pol sat next to him and tried to soothe his thoughts through the bond. Soval focused his attention on the Commander, watching, fascinated as his irritation continued to build.

“There’s no WAY Solkar had anythin’ to do with this, he’s the reason she’s still alive!” Trip jutted a finger protectively to his mate.

That is an exaggeration t’hy’la, you are the reason. But your frustration is understandable, I am… growing fatigued of these questions as well. But do not anger yourself at the Admiral, try to stay calm.

I know hun, I’m tryin but-

“We have been able to establish an alibi for Subcommander Talkon as well as all three medical personnel in the facility. Professor Solkar, however, has no one to confirm his whereabouts.” He picked up a sheet, squinting at the bottom line, “It says here he claims he was medi-”

“CLAIMS?!” His anger seethed into the tumult of his voice as Soval shifted uneasily in his chair.

His eyes thundered, his jaw tightening like a vice as Commander Tucker leaned forward. “You would accuse a former Ambassador to Earth of endangering her life, a famil-”

Suddenly Soval stood, “Commander Tucker please restrain yourself,” turning to the admirals he calmly eyed each one. “Gentlemen, I believe it would be wise if these proceedings were to conclude and continue at a later date. Please excuse us,” Soval quickly led T’Pol and Trip from the room before Admiral Gardner or Jones made it out of their seats.

Astonishment could hardly do justice to the surprise and confusion painted all over Trip as they finally came to a halt. Outside the main hall of Starfleet Command Headquarters, Soval lead them to a corridor near each of the officers’ sleeping quarters.

“That was ridiculous, Soval! I wasn’t outta’ line, they were!” he brandished a hand in the air, gesturing towards the main hall. Soval lifted an eyebrow at him, casually closing the distance between them to barely a meter.

“And you believe that screaming at them would have convinced them you were correct?” Throwing his hands on his hips, Trip looked to T’Pol. It was clear she agreed with Soval. Trip paced across the hallway, eliciting a look of intrigue and Soval shared his interest with the behavior with T’Pol through a look. As Tucker felt out her mind however, he smiled to find at least a small amount of anger deep in her controlled core to match his. He acquiesced to her loving pleas, drawing his breath in the Vulcan way. Soon his shoulders sank considerably as he turned to face Soval, his face visibly less agitated.

“Commanders I will attend to the Admirals, the briefings will not be continuing,” Trip looked in surprise at Soval. A smirk tugged at his face as he realized Soval had put on a show for the admirals, just to be nice enough to end the “informal hearing” with his typical diplomatic zeal.

“You got a way with words Soval, I gotta give ya that,” Trip teased him. A slight bow escaped him, “Thank you Commander.”

As he and T’Pol exchanged a dozen words in Vulcan, Trip looked into T’Pol. He sought to hear what he spoke but she closed her mind from him, irking Trip more than a little. A moment later T’Pol walked a few steps away towards her quarters, as Trip stepped towards her and began to speak, Soval stopped him with a stern but unoffending hand. The two paced down the corridor as Trip glanced back towards the door in which T’Pol disappeared.

“She will return shortly Commander,” Soval spoke evenly as he guided Trip down the hall a few steps away from T’Pol’s door. He waited for Soval to explain what she was doing and what they had said but something else came out. Soval studied him a few moments before speaking.

“Your outburst was inappropriate by Vulcan standards-”

“Ah jeez Soval, this again?”

“However… ” Trip shuddered as the voice raised rather suddenly, stunning him into silence. He continued in his colloquial tone, “However, I understand your…” Soval cleared his throat before uttering the detestable word. “…feelings, towards Professor Solkar. You honor my father with your loyalty.”

Trip was stunned and suddenly turned slightly towards T’Pol’s quarters, disbelief evident in his face. “So does that mean you’re her…”

“My brother died many years ago Commander, he was T’Pol’s father.”

“Her uncle,” Trip finished with a slight smirk. Soval lifted an eyebrow at the term but nodded.

With a gruff exhale he confessed, “I suppose that particular human appellation is appropriate.” Trip smiled broadly as the two stood before each other, the human in his civilian clothes, the Vulcan dressed in “casual” robes of ornate beauty. Moments of companionable silence passed as Trip’s grin inched further as he waited for T’Pol. The facts fell together and suddenly he realized something supremely amusing and at the same time, somewhat distressing.

“So if you’re related, then I guess she’d tell you mos-”

“I am aware that you and T’Pol have joined, Commander. I spoke with my father,” he gruffed again, “at length, on the subject.” Trip nearly laughed out loud at Soval’s distress on the fact.

“That is why I was forced to interrupt your outburst at that particular moment,” Trip looked confused.

“As you already know some things in our culture are very private. Familial relations are one of those things and we do not advertise the identity of our relatives, especially in diplomatic situations such as these.”

He nearly sighed, his guard was lowered around the Commander as if the revelation of their new familial connection changed his mood. He was less stiff, wore his expressions more openly and his speech bore less diplomatic edge than when he spoke to him in an official venue. He felt as though Soval now spoke around him with little regard for critique of his words, and he almost seemed less Vulcan. Perhaps, Trip thought, even Vulcans let their guard down around family.

“Humans often refer to a situation known as a ‘conflict of interests’, when we first began dealing with your world, various relatives of the same family worked in many levels of Vulcan society. Vulcans do not express ‘emotional interests’ as humans do, therefore it is of no concern to us. When dealing with your species Commander we often seek to avoid the subject of family members. It is considered intimate information.”

Trip nearly laughed as he recalled T’Pol’s use of the word. Suddenly he had an amusing thought.

He shot a mock eyebrow at Soval who reacted visibly, confused by the gesture. “So Soval,” he teased. “How old would you be?” Trip chuckled and slapped Soval on the arm lightly as he felt T’Pol’s presence return. He turned towards her door to see her withdraw from the room, her attire noticeably altered.

In place of the official blue Starfleet one-piece bodysuit she was now covered with a red silk civilian shirt. Triaxian silk if I’m not mistaken, Trip mused. You are not, she returned. Similar to what she wore on Vulcan, nearly skin-tight slacks groped every edge and crevice of her curvaceous frame, begging Trip’s appraising eye.

Oblivious of Soval’s presence they met in the Mate’s Embrace, the two-fingered greeting appropriate to the setting. He quietly appreciated her new wardrobe as the scintillating touch shot sparks up his back, shivers perpetrating tingles in his groin definitely not appropriate for this setting. Warmed by his approval of her appearance, she strode with him back to Soval. Idly turning over in her head the question of their plans now that the meetings were over, an errant image escaped her control and Trip smiled at it.

“I must return to the conference room to speak with the Admirals, Commanders. Please attend to your personal arrangements. They believe us to be returning soon; however, I will ensure that these proceedings have concluded.”

Trip looked sincerely at him before jutting a hand out, “Thanks Soval.” He took the Commander’s hand, uneasily shaking it. When he slowly withdrew to the main hall, Trip and T’Pol walked together in comfortable silence as their thoughts soothed one another.

Finally he broke the silence, “So you’re comin’ right? I mean, I wantcha’ to come,” he stopped and turned to her. A smile steadied itself on the corners of his mouth, hoping she would agree.

“I have decided that it would be logical to temporarily relocate to your parents’ residence,” she acceded. Trip nearly did a dance in the hallway as he drew her in closer, suddenly aware of the emptiness of the corridor. She relished his touch, in the past two days they were rarely treated to a private moment, since it was hardly possible to share sleeping quarters lest anyone should discover it. They weren’t exactly hiding their relationship on the ship, but Starfleet Headquarters was another story. Neither knew exactly where that road was going to take them, and neither was eager to find out.

Their fingers clasped between them, he idle caressed the back of her hand.
“My parents aren’t expecting us until tomorrow night,” he turned and they began walking side by side down the corridor towards the main hall. “I was thinking we could spend the day together, it’s not noon yet, I thought maybe we could take a walk down the beach, I could show you some of the old places I used to hang out.”

“I believe you still owe me a drink at the …” she cocked her head to the side as if recalling a distant memory.

“…the ‘602 Club’,” Trip laughed as they slowly walked to the door.

Part 1, section 7 (Chapter 14)

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