Your Mom 'n Me - Part I - sec. 7

Your Mom n' Me

By John O.

TnT – PG-13 - 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.

Our couple is enjoying time together on Earth. While Enterprise is in mothballs and Archer’s finally taken to a vacation, Trip and T’Pol hit some of Trip’s favorite spots around the Bay.

And finally meet his parents.

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Part I – Startling Discoveries

Section 7

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Chapter 14

As they waded through the tables towards the back, blaring music managed to drown out most of the catcalls. But not all of them, as Trip watched a bemused T’Pol react with confusion and intrigue. Eyes from all over the bar peered up at the odd couple, murmurs and whistles flying barstool to barstool. As most of the attendees were Starfleet officers, few disrespectful looks were exchanged. Most were innocently curious and shocked to see a Vulcan woman escorted by a human.

“Here ya go hun, what can I get you two?” the woman asked, inquiringly glancing from Trip to T’Pol.

“Thanks Ruby,” Trip flashed a smile as they dropped into a table in the corner end of the bar.

“Just a beer. T’Pol?”

“Tea, please.”

“Beer and tea, what a combination,” she giggled as she shot Trip a wink and retreated behind the bar.

She winked at you, T’Pol stared him down accusingly.

I think she’s just surprised to see me with a Vulcan, I didn’t used ta’ speak so nicely of your people ya know.

Most of the patrons had turned their attention elsewhere and resumed their business and drinks. T’Pol glanced uneasily around the bar as Trip kept a sidelong eye on her reaction to the environment. His head propped on one hand he studied her with a smile as she surveyed her surroundings.

“So what do you think?” Pausing for a moment she gave the room another once-over, a scientific eye ever observant and astute as the Vulcan analyzed the establishment.

“Me an’ the Cap’n used to come here all the time, in fact during the Warp two trials this is where me an’ him shared our first beer with Admiral Forrest, right over there,” his voice dropped off as he motioned to a table near the center of the room.

His mouth tightened as he remembered the first drink he had with Jon and Max Forrest. He chuckled at the thought, “You know what the first thing I said to Forrest was?”

She raised an eyebrow and the waitress returned, “I said ‘It’s like they want us to fail!’ and he walked up sayin’, ‘Lieutenant! I gave up on understanding the Vulcans a long time ago!’” Trip recalled, exaggerating the man’s baritone voice.

“Now that sounds like Forrest,” Ruby chimed in. “Here ya go,” she set the drinks on the table and looked perceptively to Trip. Ruby shook her head as she stood over the table, her voice lowered respectfully.

“Good ol’ Max. Now there was a good man,” she exchanged a solemn look with Trip, who nodded agreeably.

“So who’s your friend?” the red headed woman eyed T’Pol, whose gaze now fell intensely on the young woman.

“Oh yeah, right, T’Pol this is Ruby, Ruby this is T’Pol… my fiancé,” he finished. T’Pol’s head jerked to meet Trip’s eyes in shock when he spoke the truth so easily.

What, T’Pol?

Are you sure it is wise to advertise our relationship?

I’m not advertisin’, I’ve known Ruby a long time there’s nothing to worry about from her. He smiled as his hand crept across the table and came to a rest atop hers. The open display of affection startled and unsettled her at first, but the warmth and closeness with his thoughts was enveloping. Soon she felt only satisfaction, and as Ruby looked from one to the other she was nearly floored to see a tiny curl of the Vulcan’s lip as she looked on Trip. But T’Pol was oblivious to the surprised waitress, lost in Trip’s face as the contact merged his love with her single-minded need for him.

“Oh,” the woman gaped, nearly dropping the tray she cradled under one arm. “Wow, I saw your picture on the news cast after the Xindi crisis. I should have known,” she laughed, shaking her head at Trip.

“Leave it to Trip to charm a Vulcan!” she smiled, retreating to the bar.

Sipping her tea, T’Pol balked at the tang. It was completely unfamiliar, but not altogether unpleasant. Intriguing. She took another sip, and soon shifted her attention back onto her mate, and his new tale of Jonathan's past.

Idle talk passed as T’Pol sipped her tea, nearing the bottom of the glass after half an hour. Trip had a second beer, as did she indulge in another tall glass of tea. The tea ran down her throat, warming the insides of her mouth and leaving a tingle on her lips. The cool liquid presented a mild paradox for her to wrap her mind around as companionable silence sat between them for a few minutes. The warmth slowly crept along her insides, chipping away her inhibition. She began to feel much stronger feelings coming from Trip, powerful affection and caring as the night went on.

Or are they mine?

As Trip launched into another anecdote, T’Pol looked down at the glass in front of her carefully.

Her thoughts wandered as Trip continued, gesticulating wildly, his words melted away and she suddenly lost touch with the room around her. The floor rapidly approached and receded, leaving the Vulcan feeling as though she were repeating high-G force training. The dizzying feeling forced T’Pol’s eyes to blast open in convulsion and slam shut chaotically. The third, or fourth tea…?

Trip stopped mid-sentence as T’Pol’s eyes glazed over and her head swooned. Feeling her nausea in his mind, he squeezed her hand in concern over the table as she bobbed nauseously.

“T’Pol?” she looked up with an empty gaze of confusion as the voice echoed like an empty tunnel. She caught his gaze, blinking several times before straightening her very un-Vulcan posture into a rigid ‘L’.

“I believe,” she lifted the nearly-empty glass of tea, her movements imprecise and sloppy. Tightening her lips she strained to maintain some semblance of Vulcan dignity.

“That this beverage contains alcohol,” Trip sat stunned and concerned, taking the glass from her. He sniffed the glass then looked up at T’Pol, “Do ya mind?”

“I certainly will not finish it,” she snapped, suddenly aware her voice had risen significantly. Trip knocked back a swig, nodding immediately, “What in the hell …” suddenly his hand found his face with a sigh.

“I’ll handle this, don’t go anywhere,” he rose from the table and quickly crossed the room.

“Ruby!” she turned at the venomous voice calling her. Cleaning a glass she came towards him, “Need another, sugar?”

“Ruby this isn’t funny, she’s never had alcohol it could seriously hurt her, not to mention it’s downright disrespectful!” He pounded the glass down on the bar with a steely grimace.

“Trip, honey what are you talkin’ about, I brought her tea!”

Trip jut a finger towards the table they had occupied, still staring at Ruby, unaware the table was now vacant. Intoning each word separately with deliberateness he seethed, “She does not drink alcohol, and she’s already half tossed on this “iced tea”, it’s a Long Island!”

Ruby turned to the opposite end of the bar, grabbing the glass, “Steve! Did you pour this a Long Island?”

Pouring several drinks across the bar, a large pierced creature turned towards Trip and Ruby. “Of course,” the burly bartender replied across the bar. “What did you think you’d get?” he responded with a snort.

“I asked for a damn tea, Steve, not a Long Island Iced Tea,” her voice deadpanned. Now turning from his drinks the bartender snapped, “Who in the hell comes here to order a ‘tea’, your sissy boyfriend there?”

“Trip, honey I’m sorry I-”

“He is NOT her boyfriend!” Trip spun around to find the huskily enraged voice belonged to T’Pol, her feet planted like ancient roots as she burned her eyes into the poor redhead behind the bar.

T’Pol, we should go, this isn-

“NO! You referred to him as a confection, as a desert to be enjoyed! He is MINE!” she leapt towards the bar to grasp the woman’s face, her virile strength barely held in check as Trip held her with all he could.

“HE IS MINE TO TASTE, NOT YOURS! HE IS MINE!”

The room had instantly silenced as the spectacle played out and dozens of eyes were startled by her outburst. Raw vibrancy seemed to radiate from her, filling the room with hot blood and uneasy twitches. Stomachs curled and muscles tensed as every eye in the room seemed to widen with her climaxing emotions.

“I am yours T’Pol, I’m yours ok! T’Pol!” Trip begged as she flailed in his arms to reach Ruby who doubled back a handful of steps, loudly crashing into the liquor bottles behind her. Snarling in defense, T’Pol writhed against him as Trip desperately tried to calm her in his thoughts, assuring her he was hers and hers alone.

Her eyes full of purpose and carnality, she finally turned those burning orbs from Ruby to meet Trip’s. The intensity of his mate’s arousal engulfed him like a flame wave, forcing a knot into his throat as he absorbed the emotion she beamed through the bond. Hoping it would relax her, he was soon rewarded with the loosening of her muscles within his grip. She slowly backed away from the bar, finally cognizant enough to begin slow breathing techniques to further assuage her emotional upheaval.

T’Pol let’s go for a walk, he squeezed her arm and she relaxed further as the room finally began to go back to their business. Heads turned away and conversations resumed as the tension in the air evaporated with T’Pol’s lessening anger and returning control. The anxiety soon lifted from them as she relaxed while Trip held her close and sped her to the door for a walk in the evening breeze.

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A few Hours Later

Over San Francisco Bay the full moon shone like a spotlight in the heavens, painting the cobblestone path a pale blue. The night hung like a rhinestone curtain, thousands of points of tiny dancing light perforating the darkness. In the night sky the discerning mind of a Vulcan would no doubt grasp that atmospheric disturbances and variable air densities caused the aberrations in each star’s appearance as it twinkled and winked at them. But tonight, T’Pol’s eyes were trained on another phenomenon of the Universe. Winding about the Bay’s glistening edge, the two walked the stone path peacefully.

“So my sister brings her date home, but the moment he steps in the door I stop in front of him and immediately his eyes go to my belt-strap.” Pointing to his hip he wildly threw his hands in the air, “at my dad’s old Colt that I had strapped on, my sister looks down just petrified,” he paused to breath through his own amusement.

“He jumps back halfway out the door, his boutonnière falls out of his tux, my sister just launches into me, her prom dress flailing everywhere as she’s pummelin’ the hell outta’ me!”

T’Pol raised an eyebrow, her hands delicately clasped behind her back as they walked down the stone path running parallel to the bay.

“Did your sister forgive you?” she asked in such a matter-of-fact tone, regardless of the confirming thoughts from him.

“Ah yeah, ‘course. I was just lookin’ out for her but I don’t know what an’ the hell I was thinkin’ pullin’ a gun on him,” he laughed into the night sky and wrapped his arm around her waist.

“I ‘spose I didn’t trust the guy,” he mused as he thought back on Elizabeth’s childhood.

“I had to look out for mah’ sister,” he pulled her to face him, stopping in the middle of the path. A couple passed by, confused looks bathing the interspecies couple as they stood in the moonlight, ignoring all around them.

He continued, “Just like I’m gonna’ look out for us,” he referred to an unfortunate incident they experienced during their tour of the city. While viewing a Natural History Museum exhibit, an overzealous patron reacted in anger at the very sight of T’Pol. Screaming obscenities about Vulcans, calling Trip a traitor and T’Pol many things Trip couldn’t hear without his blood boiling, the man was drug off by security guards in moments. But it was long enough for Trip to become suddenly terrified someone would try to hurt T’Pol if their relationship became public knowledge. The two strolled in silence down the elevated path as it wound about the California coastline, a full moon igniting the sky.

“You feelin’ better?” Trip asked with concern. Her lips tightened as she felt a human pang of embarrassment at the ‘situation’ earlier that night at the 602 Club.

“I have regained my…” she began to reassure him in her clinical language. She stopped, surprising him as he expected her to explain her condition as if it were a sensor analysis.

“Yes, husband, I am ‘feeling better’, thank you.” Trip laughed lightly, drawing her gaze.

“Don’t think I’ve ever heard you call me that,” he eyed her suspiciously. Holding his sarcastic eyes with closet-enjoyment she calculated her dry response. With an eyebrow she returned, “Is it not the proper term in your culture for our betrothal?” She knew the answer, but relished in making him squirm.

“Betrothal, I thought you said in Vulcan traditions we were already married?”

“In Vulcan tradition, we are. However, we are on your world and I believe it would be appropriate to observe Earth-customs as well. Therefore until the time of marriage we are still betrothed,” she returned flatly.

”Well gee, sounds so romantic when ya put it like that,” he smiled as his hand did laps from one side of her waist to the other.

After several moments in quiet T’Pol inaudibly cleared her throat, narrowing her eyes in contemplative thought. Several questions were moving through her mind, but she blocked them from Trip to give herself the chance to appropriately pose the question. Without turning to him she came to her inquiry.

“Have you considered your plans after Enterprise?” The question stopped Trip in his tracks as he turned to her with a surprise. It was clear to him she had hidden the question, since he had been watching her thoughtful gaze for the past several minutes and never picked up the thought. When she stopped to face him he continued to walk, T’Pol in tow as he formulated his thoughts. His, however, were impossible to hide.

He wasn’t sure now what he wanted. “I’ve never really thought about it before… it’s hard to believe it’s been four years already.”

“You have served Captain Archer and the ship with distinction, despite your young age it is likely that were you to seek a command of your own it would be granted,” she added evenly. Suddenly Trip was floored, he hadn’t even considered a ship of his own.

“Hell I’m not ready for that,” he scoffed as he thought of that fourth bar. “Don’t know if I could handle that chair,” he laughed.

“‘sides, I’m an engineer. Always wanted to be,” he smiled at her, stirring the warmth such a human gesture gave her.

“Why, you been thinkin’ about it?” his eyes scrunched as he turned towards her. Her eyebrows confessed, “We must consider the possibility that continuing our relationship aboard a starship may be… difficult.”

Furrowing his brow, Trip lightly frowned. “I hadn’t even thought about that,” he dug into his bottom lip.

”Starfleet wouldn’t be too happy ‘bout havin’ its flagship’s second and third in command a couple, ‘side from … well, bein’ Vulcan.” They were silent another few minutes before Trip turned, stepping close to breathe in her dry but exquisite scent. He took hold of her arms lightly, caressing his fingers across her silken sleeves.

He leaned in, a low whisper sending a sudden shiver into her as he spoke. “When the time comes we’ll handle it ‘aright? We can go anywhere if Starfleet won’t have us on our terms, I can work on engines anywhere,” a subtle wind tickled their faces. Closer he leaned in, speaking into her lips and tempting her to the edge of restraint.

“Even though,” he pursed his lips, searching for the right words. “Even though, in human terms, we haven’t been… intimate, for, for all that long,” a sigh escaped as he tried to speak his thoughts. A soft hand rose to his cheek, his lips instinctively seeking it out as he craned his neck slightly to imprint a soft kiss on her fingertips.

Speak to me, t’hy’la…

The words from her softened his apprehension and his eyes closed once more, seeking the comfort of her mind.

Far as humans go it takes people a longer time to get comfortable with an intimate relationship, turn yer life upside down for someone, that sorta thing. But I’m happy about where we’re at…I don’t care about anything as much as you anymore, not some engines, not command, not even Starfleet. It sounds strange T’Pol but I feel like our bond changed me instantly the moment I took you as my wife in that cave, wherever we hafta go if Starfleet won’t have us… all ‘ah need is you.

She allowed herself to fall into his embrace, releasing her tension into the ocean air. Idly recalling the first time she taught him such breathing exercises so many months ago, the time floated before her mind’s eye like a perfectly ordered carousel.

In the Expanse… he finished her thought as her mind wandered to the past. Her eyes were drawn to him by the single thought. The memory of the distance between them pinched a nerve in Trip’s heart, but it was illogical for her to feel regret. They were together now, they had taken the logical steps to make one another aware of their feelings.

“Our experience in the Expanse put us in a particular situation no other Vulcan has ever been in before,” her eyebrows rose as they continued walking the path.

“It is logical that if the planetary alliance Starfleet pursues ever becomes a reality, many such unions will be forged by long term interplanetary missions.” Trip chuckled for a moment as his mind contemplated the possibilities.

“A Vulcan and an Andorian maybe?” he peered at her through a smirk.

“Highly unlikely,” she refuted, drawing out Trip’s amusement. “Never know,” he teased, reaching the perch of the path as it rode up to the Bay. A long concrete wall ornately decorated with shapes and figures stood between Trip and the ocean as he leaned against it. An artistic expression of the history of the Earth’s space exploration inched along the white rock as it bent around the bay, every dozen meters depicting an historical moment. Leaning into a pictogram of the Friendship One probe, Trip looked into the dark sky. A smile lit across his face as he dropped his gaze back to T’Pol, her eyes ignoring any point of interest and focusing only on his as the wind ruffled her auburn strands.

Pulling T’Pol into his arms, he felt her shiver against the cool ocean breeze as it tossed his own hair. The sea crashed and wracked against the rocky shore below as Trip curled her closer into his arms. Rubbing his hands down her arms to break her chill, he pulled her ear close enough to whisper.

“Challenge your preconceptions or they will challenge you, remember?” He smirked as she stared deeply into him, reading his thoughts as he opened the doors for her.

The bond has healed, t’hy’la.

I know, but I love hearing your voice.

The wind blew briskly, drawing T’Pol’s gaze to the ruffling of the trees above. Pulling her closer his lips sank into her neck lightly, sending a violent shiver to her womanhood. Leaning into him further, she glanced around to confirm that they were alone. Secure in their seclusion, she pulled away from his lips slowly, the wind blowing her hair out of its prim shape as the chestnut in her eyes flared a wild jungle green.

Sinking her mouth into his, her hands surrounded his face, gripping the back of him. Her body firmly against his as he rested against the rock wall her hips instinctively ground into his as she tickled and teased the inside of his lip. Taken off guard, he was thrilled by her zeal as she sucked his lips until they bruised and ground her hips until his crotch ached. He licked and massaged her lips with his tongue until she gasped under his mouth and pulled away roughly.

Matching gusts of breath heaved from each as they panted, foreheads touching. Her hands had slipped inside his shirt, caressing and sinking her fingers all over his chest as he bruised her lips and her control. As they breathed into each other, his warm grip on her hips flattened out and he drew downward, caressing her buttocks. With a guttural groan, she collapsed into his chest, pulling the top button open to feel his warm skin against her cheek. He heaved powerfully as her intoxicating taste lingered on his tongue, driving him wild in desire for more of her.

The contact on his chest invigorated the bond, magnifying a hundred times the potency of his passion as it gushed from his aching manhood. Her demand for him was overwhelming; he felt her total need for his touch, his closeness, his concern, his love. Trained all her life to expel emotion, to withdraw from attachment, to worship only logic; she now found herself a slave to her need for him, a partner in a unique dance of devotion and need. His need for her being equally powerful, he whispered into her ear and the pair quickly composed themselves.

Ignorant of onlookers, the couple briskly walked hand in hand back to T’Pol’s Starfleet sleeping quarters.

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The next morning Trip awoke beside T’Pol quite relaxed, if perhaps not very well rested. Entangled in her arms, he glanced down at her face and smiled at the Vulcan’s disarrayed hair. T’Pol, not wishing to disturb her mate, meditated for an hour in the early morning before Trip stirred under the covers of the bed in her quarters. He had never returned to his the night before, and during her meditation T’Pol was assaulted with another human trait she was catching from the serenely awkward creature lying beside her. She was worried… worried that their negligence and indulgence in each other would eventually lead to undesirable consequences when their bond became public knowledge. Precautions must be taken in the future to prevent such cavalier indulgence, but she told herself the alcohol she imbibed must be to blame for her short sightedness.

Now awakened, Tucker clutched and cuddled his mate while she rigidly meditated in bed.

“I know you’re ‘wake darlin, I can feel ya,” he eyed her closed lids suspiciously. With a warm chuckle he leaned forward and kissed each of her eyes, first one then slowly traced her brow to the other. Upon pulling away, he was rewarded with the shine of her eyes on him. She enjoyed the game, pretending to be asleep when both knew better through the bond, until finally his chortling kisses and nuzzles drew her eyes to him, a game they had now played every morning they shared together.

When he finally surrendered to her dark eyes, he jumped from the bed and headed to the shower.

“Want me to grab you somethin’ to eat babe?”

The water sprang to life, the roar prompting her to speak silently.

Thank you Trip, but I believe it would be unwise for you to be seen retrieving Vulcan supplements from the Starfleet cafeteria. I will dress and retrieve my breakfast while you bathe.

Ah, I don’t know hun, sure you don’t wanna join me first, he teased.

Your offer is quite agreeable, however I believe we are expected at your parents soon, I do not believe truancy would be the best… first impression.

A’right, you’re probably right, I’ll see ya in a ‘lil bit.

T’Pol cocked her head as she rose from the bed, intrigued by his choice of words. Satisfied she had correctly categorized the expression into his typical vernacular, she quickly donned Trip’s favorite. Chartreuse material covered her sleek body, only the missing silver insignia differentiating this body suit from her regulation uniform Trip adored so much.

When she returned, she enjoyed the clean scent of her mate as he stumbled from the shower. She prepared her meal on a small table when he emerged from the bathroom, modesty as distant as the Enterprise in orbit. She was surprised but certainly not at all dismayed when he appeared wearing only a goofy smile as he twisted a towel into his ears to dry them out.

“Mornin’ good lookin’,” he leered as she wore mock disapproval at his state of undress. He flashed a good natured smile and turned to retrieve civilian clothes from the bathroom.

When he returned they made companionable conversation while she found her hot cup of chamomile thoroughly agreeable. Unfortunately, as T’Pol began to notice, Starfleet chefs didn’t get much practice making plomeek broth. As nearly all Vulcan personnel retreat to the compound to dine, Enterprise’s Chef likely had more experience with Vulcan dishes than any cook in Starfleet. Later, Trip found the Starfleet cafeteria and returned with a dish of mashed potatoes and catfish.

Hours later that afternoon, the two packed their belongings and were now on their way to the transport station. T’Pol insisted when leaving Starfleet HQ that she should leave the room first to assure their inconspicuous departure together. Trip couldn’t help but think the precaution was paranoid and began to wonder if T’Pol feared their relationship would get out more than she let on.

He found himself pondering it as he stared through the glass of the transport shuttle when he suddenly turned and realized he was caught. T’Pol looked on him with a thoughtful gaze while the Mississippi countryside passed silently below the craft. There were no secrets between them, and Trip sought to hide nothing. It was pure innocence that drove his mind to ponder the possible consequences of their relationship. But he didn’t have to apologize, didn’t have to explain that he wasn’t regretful. She felt it, and knew his love was unmarred by regret, and just stared knowingly back at him as they approached his parents’ home.

It may not be easy, t’hy’la. We always knew that.

I know hun, and I don’t care, all I care about is you, an’ us. I just don’t want anyone to hurt you, or hurt anyone in our lives.

His thoughts were open to her and she heard them clearly, seeing Lorian’s face once more as she had many months ago from another timeline. While their eyes rested on one another his hand crept slowly atop hers between their seats in the passenger shuttle.

A few moments later the breaking thrusters fired and Trip looked out the window to see a long country road winding through the tall grass. Hundreds of feet below them they approached a single home, alone amongst hundreds of acres of grassland. The shuttle set down a few dozen meters from the house in a clearing. As the atmospheric thrusters whined to a quiet, Trip poked his head through the hatch with a bag in one hand. Squinting into the sun, he smiled when he caught sight of his mother’s rose bushes once again, like a thorn in his memory those bushes seemed to always mark home.

He stepped down from the craft, offering a hand to T’Pol as she carried a pair of her own bags. Trip waved off the pilot when they had disembarked and looked back on the house, craning his head to search for evidence of movement. He glanced back at T’Pol who stood very near him, but sheltered from the house by Trip’s body. She was discomforted by the nature of how it seemed to loom at her. Trip couldn’t feel more relaxed, staring across the plain at his grandfather’s boat as it tottered in the pond a hundred yards off. But T’Pol felt unnerved in the unfamiliarity of it all. The potent aromas were alien to her, wafting through the air across the plain grass. They were not unpleasant, but she again worried that she was incapable of appreciating the surroundings as her mate did. This ‘worry’ resurfaced again, a trait she was unhappy to have picked up from her mate.

‘Unhappy’?… have I also…

Her disarray was interrupted when Trip grasped her hand at his side and looked back to her. He stepped back to feel the warmth of her body closer and reassure her gaze as it appeared fraught with anxiety.

“T’Pol,” he whispered. “It’s all right,” he squeezed her hand softly and told her in his mind how he loved her, blanketing her with warmth to subdue her uneasiness. Slowly he pulled her towards the house, his warm hand instructing her silently that she had nothing to fear, feverishly attempting to calm the distress stirring in her. She struggled to understand why a place and an introduction could unsettle her so, as she clutched his hand. He looked to her with a minute grin as he felt her grip tighten, her eyes fixed on the door ahead of them and the figure that had emerged.

“Charles!” a voice suddenly called from the porch, immediately drawing Trip’s eyes back to the house. T’Pol’s heart threw a triple beat as he pulled her gently up the rocky path to the house. They approached the woman, and as they got closer T’Pol’s insatiable curiosity drove her spying eye to study his mother.

Of medium height and petite build, she had a rigid posture and bright twinkling eyes of brown and hazel.

“Mom! Where’s dad?” Trip called as they reached the deck. Kathryn turned into the house, “Oh you know your father.”

“Charles Junior, get down here! Your son’s home you big oaf!” she returned, smiling broadly at Trip. Her eyes drew down to Trip’s hand as it clutched T’Pol’s by his side, hers filled with bags.

“Oh honey let us get those,” she turned back towards the house, “Charles! Get down here, don’t you make this young lady carry her luggage or you won’t get pie for a week!” She turned and smiled back to T’Pol.

Thoroughly intrigued by the woman, she missed Trip’s amused grin and even ignored his thoughts as she reviewed the woman that bore her mate, admiring her composure and tenacity. Hair that hung just past her shoulders crowned a face of fair complexion, subtle nose and angular cheekbones. His facial features, T’Pol deduced, Trip had inherited from his mother, and perhaps the appealing mop she enjoyed running her fingers through. Kathryn’s golden, slightly graying strands blew as a soft wind passed them. But her eyes do not –

Just then he appeared in the door and T’Pol’s discerning eye met a familiar sight, the dancing blue that also adorned Trip’s face. Charles Jr. stood beside his wife with a wide grin, “How are ya son,” he reached for a gruff handshake with his boy. Kathryn snapped an elbow to his side, eliciting an exasperated gasp from him and a sharp sneer towards his wife. She laughed as he broke the frown into a wide grin and threw his arms out wide and embraced Trip.

“Charles Tucker the third, what the hell have you been doin’ with your time ya lil pup?” the two man slapped each other roughly and T’Pol watched closely, curiously intrigued. But her eyes hung mostly on Trip, unaware her intense gaze was held also by Kathryn through the exchange.

Trip stepped back, retrieving T’Pol’s hand by his side. “Mom, dad, I’d a, like you to meet T’Pol,” Trip groped for something to finish the greeting with. ‘Tucker’? he thought, Ah jeez nah, bad idea. He fidgeted as they greeted one another, unsure if T’Pol expected him to add something about their relationship to the introduction. He felt as if something should be said to indicate how much she meant to him, but couldn’t bring himself to blurt it out. The thought shamed him, wishing subversion for the time being wasn’t necessary, that his parents could know what the woman standing here meant in his life.

“Mrs. Tucker, Mr. Tucker it is agreeable to finally meet you,” T’Pol replied evenly. Kathryn started for a moment and then began to raise her hand in the Vulcan gesture that was so alien to her, when suddenly T’Pol reached forward.

Confused but warmed by the un-Vulcan gesture, Charles and Kathryn each took the hand warmly and offered their welcome.

“Oh honey call me Kathy,” his mother smiled broadly. His father took the hand with an unsettled grin but wore every outward sign of politeness.

“You’re both welcome to stay with us as long as you’re dirt-side!” Charles slapped his arm again playfully. Kathryn hoped very much inside he would stay until the moment he had to get back on that ship, but wouldn’t pressure him. She idly wondered what was to come in the next few days. She hardly needed to doubt that T’Pol and Trip were more involved than her son had let on, by the grip she clung to his hand with. It was likely neither realized she continued to hold his hand until the moment she broke his grip to shake hands with his mother.

“Get the young lady’s bags, or no pie, I mean it!” He rubbed his arm dramatically as Trip chuckled at the old man, carrying his and T’Pol’s bags into the house with his father. Now left on the porch alone, T’Pol paced uneasily to one side and Kathryn fidgeted.

T’Pol took a mental note of the porch. She found it aesthetically pleasing, about three meters wide and stretching the length of the home’s front side. A pair of rocking chairs tucked away into the far left corner as one approached the house and a long porch swing capable of holding two, perhaps three people creaked in the wind on the opposite side. The chimes tore into motion with a brisk wind, the chirp of a few savannah Robins forced into a symphony with the background noise of the wind across the grass. T’Pol’s attention fell on the chimes as she pretended to find interest in its action. Kathryn broke the uncomfortable silence while she waited for her husband and son to return.

“It gets so darn blazin’ out here, some days I can’t even stand it to work the yard,” T’Pol turned back to her, hands still clasped rigidly at her back.

“It is agreeable to my physiology, while the humidity is higher than I’m used to. The temperature on my home planet rarely drops below thirty degrees Celsius.”

Kathryn observed T’Pol’s survey of the house with interest as T’Pol slowly walked to inspect the rickety looking porch swing. The wood appeared quite aged, but the construction had clearly endured many years of use with minor wear.

“That’s been here for ages,” Kathryn chimed, breaking T’Pol’s hard gaze upon the old device. She glanced back and stood erect near the swing, taking in its aged appearance.

“This home belonged to Charles’ granddaddy,” T’Pol looked to her inquisitively.

“My Charles,” she clarified. T’Pol nodded quickly then looked back to Kathryn who remained steadily watching her with a small smile. Had her response just implied that Trip was her Charles, as opposed to Kathryn’s Charles? In any case Kathryn did not address it, but idly approached T’Pol and dropped into the swing gracefully.

“Cyrus – that was Charles Senior’s dad, built this house just after The War,” she looked across the fields as T’Pol stood between her and the porch railing, quite erect.

“He was governor of Mississippi then, went into hiding when the first attack came. The family says he was left for dead in a bomb shelter by the provisional government after the War, but…” she looked to T’Pol who had been listening intently. Kathryn smiled and patted the swing for T’Pol to join her.

T’Pol relaxed slightly, letting out a small breath and releasing the tiger grip that held her hands neutrally behind her. She sat on the opposite end of the swing as it creaked with her small frame’s additional weight. She sat with both hands on her red clad thighs, turned towards Kathryn who stared over the plains.

“Charles told me his granddaddy just wanted to get away from the chaos of it all. When they called all the government officials out of hiding to meet in San Francisco he just didn’t go, wanted to stay here and raise his family. So they figured him for dead. And that’s what he did,” she looked back to T’Pol, drawn from the memory of the man Charles had spoken of.

“Did Charles know his forefather?” T’Pol asked, curiously drawn into the details of Trip’s family.

“Oh he met him, when Cyrus was very old,” T’Pol looked curiously.

“See, Charles senior, Trip’s granddad… He couldn’t stand it out here in the middle of nowhere, he had to see the world. He was fifteen when the Vulcans landed and it fascinated him to no end, he wanted to see the stars, he absolutely idolized Zephram Cochrane,” she smiled briefly, remembering Trip’s same hero.

“I believe Trip has a great deal of respect for Dr. Cochrane as well,” T’Pol added, attempting to bridge the gap between herself and his family. Kathryn nodded brightly before continuing.

“Charles senior left home to study with Cochrane when he was eighteen, his father Cyrus wasn’t exactly happy about it. They didn’t speak for several years, when Cyrus got sick Charles finally brought himself to come home again. By then he had married Charles junior’s mother Jolena, Charles Junior was only a small boy… about eight when Cyrus died that year. But he remembers one thing,” she smiled again, her eyes panning the length of the porch swing.

“Buildin’ this ol’ thing with his grandpa,” she patted the swing. “Once he retired, Charles senior came back to live here until his wife died in ’97. Charles junior grew up in this house, he moved out to Florida when he signed up for Starfleet and got shipped out over there. That’s where I met him,” she smiled through a hand on her mouth.

“We moved back out here after the attack,” she looked out over the porch distantly. T’Pol felt the discomfort of unsure silence and searched for something to break it.

“It is quite unusual for three generations of a family to work in the same profession,” T’Pol offered.

“And to be so successful, as I have heard Trip speak very highly of his father’s expertise,” she added softly. This brought Kathryn’s eyes back to her with a bright eyed appreciation.

“Oh, well, Charles junior was always Trip’s number one idol, even if Zephram and Henry Archer ran close seconds!” she laughed. “I think he was bound to end up in Starfleet from the day he was born, but he loves it,” she mused.

“Trip wanted his whole life to meet Cochrane, he’s always been jealous Jon got to because of his father,” she chuckled as T’Pol recalled her meeting with the scientist.

T’Pol’s eyebrows sunk together in recollection, “I recall I was not very impressed with the man when I first met him. However, I must admit I had very little experience with your species,” she added as her eyebrow lifted emphatically. Her hands fidgeted with memory of the disdain she had for humanity.

“I knew only what the Security Ministry had taught me, and at the time my species had a somewhat… unfavorable view of your people.”

Kathryn stared at her with intrigue but her outward expression wore a look of disbelief. T’Pol felt she had committed a transgression, that her words may have been misunderstood and quickly moved to explain.

“I mean to say that I,” for the first time in her life T’Pol stuttered as she struggled. “… that I do not hold this view of your-” but she was spared the anxiety when Kathryn raised a hand and shook her head vigorously.

“No, no honey you didn’t offend me, it’s just something you said. You say you met Cochrane when you were young, but honey he died when Trip was only three years old, why you couldn’t be a day over thirty!” she exclaimed.

T’Pol nodded slightly while exhaling a slight relief, her human mate’s anxious tendencies clearly infusing themselves into her Vulcan calm. A moment later she attempted to explain to the woman she likely surpassed her own age.

“Vulcans age more slowly than humans, I may appear younger, however the date of my birth, on Earth’s calendar was approximately May twenty-third of twenty eighty-eight.”

Kathryn gaped for a few moments then blinked several times, throwing her legs over the edge of the porch swing.

“Well hun, I know a lot of women at the University who wouldn’t mind bein’ a Vulcan woman when they turn fifty,” she chuckled as she rose from the swing, inducing a cocked eyebrow and confused expression from T’Pol.

“Let’s go on inside, see what trouble those boys are up to,” she rose as T’Pol followed her into the house.

Part 1, section 8 (Chapters 15 & 16)

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A whole mess of folks have made comments

Loved it, great job, cant wait for the next chapter

Too short but sweet nonetheless. ;) Thanks!

loved as i have all the chapter keep them comming and not so much time before the next chapter is out cant wait for it

Nice one, update soon.

Hehe, yeah I'm sorry about the delays...workin two jobs and dealing with the damn muse fairy abandoning me lately I've had some trouble.

I bulked up this chapter to make it extra long since it was standing alone. I'm going to try to release 3 or maybe 4 chapters next time, so apologies if it's long again. Do my best to keep it inside a week.

john

Good job. I wondered when she said tea at the club if she would really get tea or a Long Island. I've had one of those once and I know exactly how she felt... Can't wait to read the next chapter(s). Keep up the good work. :)

Excellent John!

My favorite line:

“Leave it to Trip to charm a Vulcan!” she smiled, retreating to the bar.

I loved the entire 602 Club scene! Great job!!

fantastic

Very ineresting. Cann't wait to see what comes next.

LOL God that bit were Polly got drunk,, that was just damn cute,,, I loved when Ya had Trip holdin her off poor Ruby.

And T'pol bein a bit nervous of meetin Kaythryn, is all to true of first time meetins of future inlaws aint it,, Loved how shocked she was at Polly's age. Cant wait for your nect set of chapter's.

Excellent! I'm looking forward to the next chapter, keep up the good work!

Great story! Like it so much I'm reading it again. I hope you can update soon.

this is'nt the first time I have read this but I just noticed no one has made commments. I really like your story and would like to know what happens during the visit with Trip's parents.

me first
Please write some more. I like your characterizations

I wanted to let you all know, the final update IS coming. It is in the works, and very near completion, thank you all for having faith in my promise! This last portion is much larger than just about any other update I've released, I am tempted to release what I have now, but I am so close you will hopefully be happy when it is posted that I decided to wait and finish it all at once!

John

WOOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!
Can't Wait.