Your Mom 'n Me - Part I - sec. 8

Your Mom n' Me
Part I – Startling Discoveries

Author: John O.
TnT – PG-13 - Romance/Drama/Series/AU
Disclaimer – Paramount owns the characters and everything Star Trek related. Unfortunately.

A.N.: Notes are in the previous story. Charles is upset about Trip’s surprise houseguest while T’Pol tries to understand many new and complicated experiences on the Tucker plantation. Some bad language.

**To readers: For those of you following my story through its tremendous delay, thank you for your kind patience. It may make more sense to read from the beginning, as I have found that when I finished I had forgotten much of the early story myself! This experience of writing this story has inspired me to write many more and I thank you for allowing me to share it with you. The universe of this story will continue, so watch for sequels! Some will be much shorter, spanning a few days while others may be epic in scope as this is intended. I also hope to get around to one or two stand-alones, so I hope you enjoy!

Summary of Ch. 1-14

As it was written prior to airing of Bound the first few chapters begin with Trip still on the Enterprise, trying to figure out what to say to T’Pol. When a mysterious ship attacks the Enterprise, T’Pol is mortally wounded and falls into a coma. Trip is devastated and spends every last waking minute by her side. While the Enterprise tries to recover from the devastating damage done to its engines, T’Pol’s condition improves slightly, but as Phlox discovers, only while Tucker is present in sickbay. Phlox finally informs the Commander that somehow his presence is helping T’Pol’s recovery and that consequently as a physician he must ask that he be excused from duty to spend most of his time in sickbay with her.

T’Pol finally comes to and shares a great many thoughts and feelings with Trip, including the final revelation of exactly how he is able to hear her thoughts and needs. Through the next few days the two grow closer and the Enterprise is finally repaired and speeds to Vulcan. There, Trip and T’Pol meet three Vulcans one of whom is Professor Solkar, grandfather of T’Pol. In Trek history, Solkar is also the father of Skon, who is father of Sarek, who is father of Spock. During T’Pol’s care on Vulcan she is attacked by the mysterious Dr. Sevel, one of the doctors treating her. The man vanishes without a trace when Solkar incapacitates him and leaves behind a hypospray of an unknown bioengineered weapon, meant to be used on T’Pol.

Solkar reviews and finally approves of T’Pol’s choice of Commander Tucker and instructs Trip how to assist T’Pol’s recovery with a mind meld. The meld simultaneously makes their bond permanent, while temporarily handicapping either of them from feeling one another. Enterprise is quickly recalled to Earth where Starfleet Command wants a better story from Trip, T’Pol, Phlox and Archer about the attack on T’Pol and the mysterious Dr. Sevel. When the briefings finally conclude, Trip and T’Pol begin spending some time together. Trip shows her around Florida, San Francisco and eventually, his parents’ home in Mississippi.

That should be an adequate refresher, however there are many details that can’t be covered in a general summary. Getting reacquainted with the earlier chapters might help to follow the story better. Enjoy!

Part I – Startling Discoveries

Section 8 (Chapters 15 & 16)

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Chapter 15

Trip and Charles Inside The House

The old fashioned screen door creaked shut as the two men muscled the luggage through the door, leaving an uneasy Mrs. Tucker and T’Pol alone on the porch.

Before them as they walked into the old style home, a large glossed wood floor stretched across a wide living area. To the right the kitchen hid behind a partial wall, broken on two sides with entrances. For safety and regulation upgrades, much of the support structure of the home had been renovated in the early twenty second century, however many of the retro designs still reflected its age. A large, curtained single-pane window bathed the entire front room in the sun’s evening glow as it set beneath the grass.

The two carried the baggage across the floor and up a wide stair protruding from the far left wall as one entered the front door. Minutes of silence passed until they reached the top of the stair and Charles junior, leading the ascent, stopped and looked briefly back at Trip. Trip continued towards the guest room past his father. He moved near the door on the right as Charles junior suddenly stopped him at the doorway the doorway.

“Don’t ya’ think ya’ oughta be puttin’ those in there,” he pointed to the room across and down the hall, nodding his head at Trip’s bags. Trip looked back at the door then at his father in confusion.

“Pop, that’s my room, wh-”, Charles’ face remained still but his eyebrows raised as Trip looked at him in confusion. The two remained silent, while Trip maintained a steadfast mirror of his father’s unwavering face. He had made such a blatant mistake, forgetting in the wrong moment that his parents knew nothing about the intimacy between he and T’Pol. He planned to stay with T’Pol in the guest room and never thought twice about his father noticing where he put his bags. Sharing a room with a Vulcan, oh boy… Trip thought.

A tinge crept into Charles’ eyebrow and he scowled when he thought his son wasn’t going to admit what he was convinced was the truth, and no damn son a’ mine was brought up to bold face lie ta’ me…

Before Charles could explode Trip’s face sank with a rough breath.

“I’m sorry Pop, I just,” Trip sighed as he dropped his bag to the floor.

“I didn’t know how to say anything about it, I was goin’ to later but how’m I supposed to bring that up at the front door,” he begged.

"Jesus, Trip, a Vulcan?!" Charles demanded in a contorted hiss, casting a scowl at his son through sharp blue eyes.

“Dammit, Pop!” Trip rolled his eyes in disgust, “Not this again, not now, not about her, ok!” he replied in anger.

“They’re unfeelin’ son! I’ve worked around ‘em my whole life, I’ve always told you that! Ya’ used ta’ understand! You’ve told me yourself this Vulcan was as icy as they come, ya’ used to write about her all the time!”

Trip ran a frustrated hand through his hair with a sigh, “Things are different Pop. That was a long time ago, a lot’s happened since then. T’Pol’s not like that, there’s so much to her that people don’t kno-” Charles interrupted Trip’s heartfelt response.

“Dammit son listen ta’ your old man for once, she’s no good fer ya’, you hear?” Charles stepped closer to his son, his hand jutting a finger into his son’s chest. Trip’s eyes flared as he drew a harsh breath, tightening his jaw.

“Dad, you stop this right now dammit! Now I’m goin down there and we’re havin’ dinner as a family, and I swear!” Trip jutted a finger at the older man, slipping into his native accent as he grew angrier.

“If you start any trouble with ‘at Vulcan nonsense I’ll call a damn shuttle here an’ go stay in the city!” Trip’s eyes got wider as he lowered his hand. The courage to defy the aged, but daunting man faded considerably as his anger subsided.

“And you know what mom’ll do if you drive us outta’ this house!”

T’Pol would have been intrigued at the understanding passing man to man without a telepathic bond as the two met eyes for several moments. Finally breaking the stare, Trip lifted his bags from the floor and continued into the room. He dropped them beside the bed, then quietly turned to his dad, who held out T’Pol’s bags. Depositing them to the floor next to a wooden dresser, Trip turned and faced his father for only an instant. Briskly he moved quickly past him and down the hall to start dinner. For several moments Charles didn’t move, standing in the doorway of the guest room and staring at the baggage as if they held some providence. Suddenly, as if drawn from a trance, he sank a long arm into the doorframe to support his leaning weight. His head fell to rest on an arm in thought, shutting his eyes.

He harbored little shred of belief the Vulcan his son had brought home could return any emotional attachment. He was convinced it was through some detestable deception that his son’s affections were sadly misplaced.

She must have confused or misled him somehow, he was certain of it. If only he knew what emptiness that’s in the Vulcans… he thought. Where we hold love and compassion, they hold nothing but contempt, and dry-ass logic. They have no loyalty, no tendency for friendship, or camaraderie of any kind. Cold and unfeeling, they recoil in disgust at the invitation of touch; they’ve detested us for decades, all of them. A defeated frown pressed against the frame as he sank into his thoughts deeper.

Suddenly, his thoughts were pulled by the familiar sound of Kathryn Tucker.

“Charles! Get on ‘ere hun, it’ll be time for dinner soon!” she called.

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When the four sat down for dinner, the anxiety surrounding the odd couple’s unexpected homecoming was soon forgotten, if only for a short while. T’Pol was pleasantly surprised to find Mrs. Tucker had prepared a vegetarian fruit salad that she found surprisingly ‘agreeable’. Trip and Charles sat over half-ravaged plates, nearly forgetting the argument minutes earlier as each laughed through a mouthful of Trip’s childhood stories. Kathryn insisted on making conversation, determined to save her table from a dreadful silence.

Vulcans were accustomed to silent meals, but Kathryn’s anxiety kept her mouth moving on from story to story of Trip as a young boy. Secretly, she carefully observed T’Pol’s reactions to accounts of his youth, his teenage hijinks. The memories of his childhood that his mother cherished so – are they meaningless to her?, she wondered.

T’Pol listened with interest, her eyes never leaving Trip’s mother as she nibbled at the salad. She was in fact hungry, but was completely enchanted with Kathryn’s recount of Trip’s childhood. Trip would glance at her in amusement, or in curiosity to gauge her reaction at something Kathryn said and find her fascinated with his antics.

This place had made her ponder his early life for the first time since she had known him. In Vulcan life a mate’s childhood is irrelevant, but not here. But with a Vulcan mate, many things are irrelevant… So much here is relevant…

Perhaps it was the fact that her own childhood was so different and she found her mate’s fascinating. Perhaps there was another reason for her interest in human childbearing.

Finally, as the sun crowned the Mississippi horizon, Trip ceremoniously leaned back from his plate, eliciting a loud creak from the chair. Catching T’Pol’s intrigued glance as he folded his hands across his belly, happily he grinned when he felt her mind reach out to his. The equivalent of a warm human embrace after a companionable meal, T’Pol’s mind sought out his.

Never had she learned so much in one evening, so much that she cared to learn. Every movement and gesture in this place spoke volumes of the man she had taken for her mate, and with every word of it her doubts and fears were more disarmed.

Indeed he took on a more cavalier attitude in these familiar surroundings, but the strange ways of his family somehow only intensified his presence in her mind. It would be illogical to say she adored him, an emotional state of which she was simply not capable. But the subtle twinkle of his eyes as he appreciated her beautiful appearance, the way he pulled out her chair at the beginning of the meal, they were rituals she had not experienced. Simple new alien customs that a typical Vulcan would analyze and perhaps find diplomatically intriguing – including T’Pol only weeks ago. But something is different…she pondered.

All this drove her attachment to his mind’s presence deeper, allowing her to unfold many of the pathways in his mind that she failed to understand before this visit. With each memory and trait the link ran greater, deeper, and stronger. She realized there was longing in her; but calm and quietly smoldering. It did not resemble the Vulcan penchant for extremes.

One day, she thought idly at the table, every part of his mind would be known, every inch of who he was revealed to her – and every part of her to him. So much of my past he still does not –

“Honey would you like some pecan pie?” Kathryn smiled as she rose from the table to retreat into the kitchen. Trip gave T’Pol an amused grin, opening his mouth to respectfully decline for his mate.

“Thank you, Mrs. Tucker,” T’Pol replied abruptly to Trip’s surprise. She shot him an eyebrow before turning back to Kathryn who rummaged about the kitchen.

“Yes, I would…” she clinched her lips a quick moment in thought, as if the complicated vernacular of the setting were a monstrous database to be searched.

“…like some pecan pie, please,” she replied, taking dry amusement from Trip’s shocked expression.

You never tried pecan pie fer me, he thought with a sly grin.

Actually I did, she replied coolly, allowing the clandestine memory to surface for the first time in months. To him it was a sight: T’Pol two years ago, militaristic hairline and severe eyes inspecting the brown delicacy before her. He nearly forgot himself and laughed aloud as the memory-T’Pol mechanically dissected the dessert. Suddenly he was drawn back to the present by the clang of a plate in front of T’Pol.

“Here go hun!” Kathryn turned back to the kitchen. Trip looked up to see his father already digging into his share, and suddenly realized he had been missing in action for longer than he thought.

“When did you start likin’ this stuff dad? Mom used ta’ hafta’ force you to even be in the same room when we had pie,” he laughed as T’Pol returned an inquisitive glance.

“My mom got me hooked on the stuff,” Trip explained to T’Pol as Kathryn returned to the table with her own serving.

“Dad never could stand the smell, much less the taste,” he looked from Kathryn to Charles inquisitively. Charles lifted his eyes to Trip emptily, without reply. Kathryn’s face became a menacing disapproval at Charles’ obvious silent rudeness. The silent look finally drew even T’Pol’s curiosity, who watched with confusion, searching her mate’s mind to understand.

“Doctor Scott insisted he get more sugar into his blood, you know they said years ago he could develop diabetes. It was either add some sugar to his diet or go in twice a month for exams,” Kathryn shook her head.

“It’s amazing with all the technology they still don’t know how to prevent a disease that old,” her anger subsided when concern rode back into her mind. She looked warmly to Charles, whose hand was now grasped tightly under hers at the table.

“At least they knew to look out fer it Pop, to try an’ prevent it, an’ those pills you’ve been takin’,” Trip spoke uneasily to his father, trying to make conversation for the first time since their argument.

“I believe there is a Vulcan study in progress which intends to detect the predisposition of similar blood disorders in other humanoid species and eradicate them at birth,” T’Pol spoke evenly to Kathryn who broke a slight smile.

“Perhaps,” T’Pol hesitated a moment, suddenly feeling uncomfortable as Charles’ gaze turned to her.

“…the research may also benefit humanity as well. If the alliance Admiral Black and Captain Archer are discussing with Councilman Soval becomes a reality, there will be many new things shared between our people.”

Looking to her in surprise, Charles wiped his mouth over an empty plate. Trip surveyed the empty dishes then looked to T’Pol.

“Mom, Dad, would you mind if we excused ourselves, me an’ T’Pol’d like to clean up the dishes so I can show her around the house a bit,” he nearly turned red when his mother looked at him in surprise.

“Like the old fishing tree by the pond?” she cast a devious smirk at him, eliciting another dozen shades of crimson to the surface of his cheeks.

“Mommm!” Trip complained as he rushed T’Pol to the kitchen while Kathryn laughed. Charles, however, was not amused, and cast his eyes out the window with a rough sigh.

Kathryn patted his hand warmly but firmly, “Come’on Charles, ya’ old coot, get on that porch swing with me.”

As Charles huffed through the front door, Kathryn stopped and peered through the tiny corner of the entry that spied the kitchen. Only a tiny peak of light shone through at her angle, but it was enough to show the object of interesting her kitchen.

Two muscular arms encircled a petite waist, and her son’s golden hair dropped into view as it nuzzled into the woman’s shoulder. It wasn’t only possible to forget the tiny woman was a Vulcan, it was requisite for Kathryn to believe her eyes. She watched as her son embraced T’Pol just as Charles had so many times. Cradling her waist from behind as she tried in futility to focus on the task at hand… it was a portrait in Kathryn’s mind of her own loving husband years ago.

But Kathryn nearly gasped as the Vulcan intimately stroked her son’s hair, resting her fingers into the base of his neck. The Vulcan turned to him as her back fell against the countertop, pulling him closer. All the while Kathryn couldn’t believe what she saw, and suddenly realized her intrusion of an incredibly private moment. She quietly and guiltily slinked out the front door to join her husband.

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Soft, yellow light crept through the porch windows, bathing a few meters of the deck as Kathryn and Charles sat companionably silent. Hoots and flutters from the brush a couple meters off caught Charles’ attention. His wife napped quietly, leaning into him with her arms wrapped around one of his thick trunk-like arms.

The man’s old eyes strained into the darkness towards the faintest whisper of a voice as the wind blew, his eyes squinting to make out the distant forms. Far into meadow, the oddest pair to ever kiss over Mississippi grass strolled down a beaten path, shrouded in darkness.

“Your mother spoke of him, she said he was a government official during the war?” T’Pol peered at him under a questioning brow as they strolled down the narrow path. It was only paved with rocks and dirt, winding through the tall grass a few hundred yards from the home. The familiar hum of the cricket population drew a smirk from Trip as he gazed at the stars, holding T’Pol’s hand close.

“She told you ‘bout that?” he asked with a smile. With a nod T’Pol continued, “She also spoke of your grandfather’s career with Cochrane. I believe she was… ‘surprised’ that I was old enough to have met Doctor Cochrane.”

Trip stopped in the path, glaring at T’Pol as he threw his hand to his hips.

“You told her how old you are?” he spat playfully. No answer required, he shook his head sulkily.

“I can’t believe you told her in one conversation what took me three years to beat outta’ ya’, what you said Vulcans never tell anyone” he looked at her in disbelief.

“I believe I said it was intimate knowledge, it is logical that the mother of my chosen mate should be considered an appropriate bearer of intimate information,” she replied coolly with a slight glance at him as she stared into path as it wound into the distance.

“Huh,” he tongued his lip as they continued.

“She must like ya’,” he smirked as he his eyes fell to the dirt with a hidden smile. She was careful not to reveal the impact this had on her, but the thought brought great comfort. She secretly wished very much to develop a cordial relationship with his parents. Especially that night, it never seemed more necessary to understand her mate and his complexities – to be accepted by those whom he held so dear as his mother and father.

He stopped and turned to her, grasping her fingertips lightly and drawing them closer to him. So naturally it now felt, she allowed her fingers to grip the taut muscles at his lower back and sink her forehead into his upper chest.

The smirk fell from his face as his chin grazed her soft hair, as if the feeling wiped it away and left only an honest smile.

“I’m so glad,” he whispered lightly into the wind, a small groan rumbling from her lips into his chest. It was a secret gesture, a feeling and sound absorbed as it shook him, and meant only for her chosen mate. With him, in this alien place, she felt as serenely at peace as even her meditation had ever brought.

Swiftly he pulled his head from her and she looked up at his eyes, wide with vigor.

“I have to show you something!” he took her hand and pulled her briskly down the path. She could have just as easily plucked the secret that await their saunter down the path from his mind, but she left it unspoiled.

Finally they came before massive clearing on one side of the path, a towering tree of at least three meters in diameter towering over them. The wind tossed the upper branches loudly as Trip pulled T’Pol to the base of the tree which sat several meters from the lip of a large pond. The rickety boat identified it as the pond she spotted from the transport shuttle as they landed. Idly she realized this gave her an aerial perception of their position relative to the house. Her collected Vulcan mind worked away at forming a mental map.

Trip pulled a device from his back pocket, while T’Pol eyed the new contraption he produced curiously. When he flipped it open, revealing an old fashioned blade of about six centimeters in length, she stepped closer to him as he approached the tree.

Finally she followed his gaze to the tree, with only the moonlight to illuminate her search as she found a mysterious set of symbols. She read them in confusion, but began to understand the meaning of at least one of the abbreviations.

T T
+
N P

“I assume ‘TT’ refers to the initials of your nickname and surname?” T’Pol asked rhetorically as Trip smiled briefly at her then went to work. He tore roughly at the inscription, scrawling away more than just sap and bark. Shreds of bad memories haphazardly flooded the bond. T’Pol was suddenly reminded that there would always be times when her husband’s undisciplined mind might negligently throw unintended emotions at her, straining her to bear both these and her own.

As he scratched them out his motions became more and more erratic, with more power and intensity in every slash. Finally he became visibly angry and grunted at the blade as it slipped from his hand and fell to the dirt. T’Pol was instantly at his side, emotion more evident in her features than any had seen since the encounter with the Seleya. She had forgotten to fear his emotions and felt only concern for him.

Trip, what is it t’hy’la?

“I, well she…” he struggled, panting as he sat back into the moist grass. T’Pol slowly knelt near him, inspecting the ground before her briefly and placing her bottom flat on the dirt. She looked quite uncomfortable in this position, but wore care for another.

T’Pol, the other initials are for Natalie, my uh…

Your mate before you were assigned to the Enterprise, T’Pol mentally finished.

“Nah, mate’s a’ little too strong, she was a girlfriend” he brushed sweat from his face as he leaned back on his palms. He panted and drew his eyes suddenly to T’Pol, flushed with concern. He leaned in close to her, his hands cupping hers.

“At the time I thought…” his eyes searched the dirt as T’Pol’s rested heavily upon his. “I thought she would be my mate one day,” T’Pol unintentionally squinted in jealously. He quickly leapt into words less coherent and mostly panicked.

“T’Pol I didn’t have a damn clue what kind of woman I really wanted, I didn’t have a dream in the world I would meet anyone like you, you’re,” he groaned as he lifted himself up to surround her.

“You’re more than I could have ever thought I could find,” he whispered to her. “This,” he waved at the now-massacred inscription, “This was nothin’ compared to you, an’ us. I want you to know that.”

“But… now, this is part of who I am,” he touched the tree.

“And I want you to be a part of who I am,” T’Pol looked curiously to the tree.

“Then the positioning of one’s initials above a mathematical conjunctive followed by another’s implies the two are mates,” T’Pol asked, drawing a chuckle from Trip as his anger evaporated.

“Somethin’ like that,” he leapt to his feet and stood in front of the tree as T’Pol watched.

When he finished his own he looked to T’Pol, back to the tree then a split moment later jerked back to T’Pol in disbelief.

“I don’t know your last name!” he shouted, with a hint of shame haunting his southern values. T’Pol rose to her feet to inspect his work.

“I do not believe Vulcans have what you would refer to as a ‘last name’. We are often distinguished by name followed by the father or head of our house,” her eyes rolled in thought as he listened curiously. He thumbed his chin then went to work feverishly.

“However,” she added, bringing him to a halt. “Other species often refer to a Vulcan by adding the suffix, ‘of Vulcan’.” Trip scowled a bit at that and shook his head.

“Nah, I definitely like ‘T’Pol Solkar’ better,” he laughed as the dull blade dug into the ancient bark. For several minutes he delicately carved each letter with care, repeatedly going over the same places to emphasize each cut. He took a final slice around the ‘T’, his favorite part. With a brisk exhale he blew flakes of wood from their crevices and stepped back to marvel at his creation.

T T
+
T S

With a wide smile he flipped the blade shut and retired it to his pocket, duller than ever. Pulling her to his side he continued to admire the simple sign, intriguing T’Pol to no end. That such a simple defacement of vegetation could mean so much to her mate, truly made her realize the worlds of difference that lie between them. But at the same time, a stir of warmth in her gut dispelled any fears. It wasn’t logical. But here, it didn’t have to be.

A thought floated by as Tucker admired the sight one last time before turning towards the house. He threw his arm around T’Pol’s shoulder as they took in the tree a last moment and then pulled her towards him. His arms wound about her waist slowly.

“Would you consider taking my last name, when we marry I mean,” he trailed off slightly, unsure of her response. Her face remained its characteristic blank slate, revealing nothing as she weighed the request. To any pair of eyes but the blues anxiously glittering, she would have appeared as though she were analyzing a scientific hypothesis.

“I believe that would be agreeable,” she finally answered.

“T’Pol Tucker,” Trip smiled as he pulled her close for a fiery kiss, buried deep in the brush of the quiet grassland. Against the hush of crickets and endless symphony of bull frogs, the Mississippi heat met its match in the lip locking fury of a forty five kilogram Vulcan.

Chapter 16:

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What’s pop gonna say?

Lying awake beside T’Pol a few nights later, his thoughts dwelt upon the past few days he and T’Pol spent together on Earth. It was the fifth night they had shared in this bed but somehow he wasn’t over the uneasiness of his father’s disapproval. It was as if there was a quiet understanding – an uneasy understanding between them. He and T’Pol were together and Charles disapproved, simple as that.

When the two would depart the Tucker parents’ company for the night and retire to bed, between the Tucker men it was a ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ sense of understanding.

They had spent so much time with his parents that maybe, just maybe, he thought… They wouldn’t take it so bad. Hell they might even be happy for me. He shifted in bed, slinking his arm off T’Pol’s side to rest behind his head as he stretched out and contemplated.

Yeah, that’d be some luck…

Kathryn was just waiting to hear him admit it, she had already concluded Trip planned to marry T’Pol. Charles’ denial, of course, had found a way to keep him oblivious to this obvious fact.

A few moments after Trip relinquished his arm of its embrace about her waist, she unconsciously winced at his departure. It was a silent testament to the truly remarkable thing that existed between the two. Little had they realized it, but sharing a bed these past few days in the environment Trip knew as home had cemented the unconscious need in each for one another to be close. He slipped his arm back around her side, tickling it across her smooth skin near the boundary of her hips, alleviating her unconscious distress. Suddenly his memory drifted to the week behind them.

The visit to the fishing tree had proven for Trip to be the end of a longstanding ache deep inside him. He had fallen in love with T’Pol long before the moment he replaced Natalie’s scrawled initials with her own. But with that tree, T’Pol now shared every last thing Natalie ever had. More than she ever could.

It had become only the first of many excursions into the wilderness on the Tuckers’ property. As well as the first of T’Pol’s precarious attempts to understand Trip’s past, his heritage, and how this place made a part of who he was.

The second day of their visit, a walk around the pond gave Trip the opportunity to explain more of his family’s history, a topic to which T’Pol listened with great interest. Hanging on his words, there was a humbled intrigue in her face that he hadn’t seen even in the depth of the most mysterious scientific investigation. Nothing had piqued her as knowing her mate, but he just quietly smiled and left teasing her about it to another day.

When he stopped by the dock, Trip took her hand and guided her as she followed wearily. Spending the remainder of the afternoon drifting across the lake aimlessly, Trip casually asked T’Pol of her own ancestry.

“Well I’ve never heard you talk about your family, I just thought,” Trip watched her carefully and listened through the bond, detecting a hint of anxiety.

“You’ve never said anything about your dad,” he asked slowly, looking to her reaction. When her eyes remained fixed on her feet and her thoughts seemed as blank as parchment to him, he pushed a little more.

“I mean, Solkar bein’ his daddy, he musta been a,” he paused as he realized he admired a man, no not a man – a VULCAN, that he had never known. Her father.

“Musta been a good father,” he finished, his voice dropping to a whisper while he searched her eyes warmly.

“I’m sorry hun, if you don,” It’s all right, t’hy’la she answered amidst his hands waving in apology. Swallowing hard, she lifted from the far end of the small rowboat and shifted closer to Trip. Vulcans’ lack of comfort with water lay apparent on her face as her slow and cautious movements brought her to his side, her hands never leaving the comfort of the rickety boat’s edges.

“He was an exobotanist, quite a brilliant one actually.”

She spoke evenly and without waver, but Trip felt a rush of both longing and admiration through the bond. It was something he had never felt from T’Pol. Innocent, fearful and child-like admiration beamed from her as her eyelids flickered in uncertainty.

“He was fascinated with the variety of plant life on planets like Earth.” She looked about the pond as she spoke, “It was here, on Earth, that he first began to speak to me of the importance of infinite diversity in Surak’s teachings.”

“He spent a great deal of time here studying the vegetation. My mother did not always approve that he preferred field study over instruction at the Science Academy,” T’Pol let out with a slight tone of disappointment. Trip watched her carefully, and suddenly became aware her fingers lie atop his palm. They shared the afternoon in serenity, making conversation but for the most part Trip reveled in the surroundings. T’Pol studied them, analyzing them as only a Vulcan could. What this Vulcan could not do, however, was determine why this place conjured so many images of her father’s long-since forgotten face.

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The next day Trip and his mother took an aircar to the city. Kathryn insisted she required Trip’s help and when Charles offered she casually dismissed the notion on account of his bad shoulder. She insisted he shouldn’t do any heavy lifting, and before he could ask what heavy lifting she needed on her clandestine errands, the mother-son pair were off. They returned several hours later with a few shopping bags and weary legs.

Trip greeted T’Pol at the door of their bedroom as she finished meditating, unabashedly taking her into his arms right in the hallway. Shocked but undeniably excited, T’Pol nearly left permanent damage on his neck when her lips and teeth took on their own life. Wrapping his powerful arms around her slender waist, he held her several moments after their fiery lip duel simmered to fleeting pecks.

Finally, he pulled his lips from her delicate chin where they were dancing slowly and playfully in the silence of the hallway – a place hardly safe from an unannounced visitor. Regarding her eyes as they burned on him he wrapped his hands softly about her cheekbones. Curiously, he was more enamored of his t’hy’la in this moment than she had seen him since declaring their unrequited love.

After several moments, his forehead found hers. Her warm breath tickled his lips, driving an unconscious twitch to ripple through them as they wished to again devour her sweet mouth. But his whisper beat them to the punch.

“I’m gonna marry you,” he whispered with delight, a smile he could hardly control dancing on his face as he chuckled into her mouth. Her hidden contentment with his affections was broken when confusion set in.

I’m well aware of our intentions to wed, t’hy’la…I do not understand the…

“T’Pol,” he whispered as his lips dove into the corner of her cheek as it crinkled with her inquisitive frown.

You’ll see, was all he could muster after several moments trying to manage an explanation for his mood. He desperately managed to hide the glee his secret brought him.

Turning his attentions back to the moment, he looked to the stairs. He breathed a hard sigh of relief, but was clearly not significantly concerned with the thought of being caught like this by his parents.

“So what’d you do while I was gone?” Trip inquired, following her into the room as she sank into a pillow on the floor. He lazily sprawled himself out on the bed, arms tucked behind his head as he looked up at her.

“I meditated,” she replied coolly.

“The whole time?” he asked in surprise. He could feel she was hiding something, but then again – so was he. It didn’t feel malicious, so he ignored it. After all, one turn deserves another. He smiled at the prospect, realizing without concern that each would reveal their loving secret in time.

“Oh by the way, we got a call from Jon while we were out, he wants to have dinner with us,” a confused glance from T’Pol brought a smile to Trip.

“I mean the Cap’n,” Trip clarified. She was unused to referring to the Captain so informally.

Yes, this will be difficult indeed, she decided. Taking Captain Archer’s best friend as her mate would carry the difficult prospect of the Captain becoming more informal with her as humans often find necessary with relatives of friends.

“My mom and I- uh,” he stuttered.

“We already planned on having a family dinner, well- uh-with me and you, and them. All of us,” Trip stammered.

“So we’re going to San Francisco to meet Jonathan day after t’morrow.”

She uncomfortably shifted about her pillow, searching for a meditative calm while Trip dozed contently. Returning to the concern she hid, T’Pol’s mind refused to calm itself, barring itself from welcomed peace. There it was again, that human syndrome she had seemingly caught from her mate. Worry.

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

“What’s in the bag,” Charles asked flatly as Kathryn huffed into the kitchen to escape the heat. She dropped the bag down hard, looking to him in expectant frustration. She felt a battle looming on the horizon and was not in the mood for it.

“From Kirkpatrick’s ,” she muttered simply. Charles wasn’t surprised. He moved towards her, a rough breath leaving his chest. She moved about the kitchen in silence, while Charles rubbed his jaw in frustration.

“The jeweler,” he said evenly. It was neither a question nor an outburst, merely an empty word that held such providence. Kathryn only nodded. He didn’t swallow for several seconds, standing quietly in the kitchen with one powerful arm anchored at the counter.

“Our,” his voice cracked in a rasp, through a dry throat he stuttered and spoke again. He rubbed his mouth uneasily, clearing his throat. Kathryn looked to him curiously, then began putting away the various items they purchased in town.

“Our jeweler.”

“He loves her, Charles why can’t y-!” Kathryn began in a fury.

“I…” he began, drawing Kathryn’s attention as she stormed across the kitchen to come inches from her husband.

But nothing would come out of his mouth. He had been sure of one thing the day Trip arrived. He wasn’t going to let some Vulcan hurt his boy. But what had changed?

Years of distrust of her race were awash with confusion, only confounded by the deep care he held for Trip’s feelings. It was all that formed in his mind, the only thing that really mattered to him – his son’s happiness. The question had been could T’Pol really be a woman for his boy, a question he thought he knew the answer to.

But no Vulcan I’ve ever met would have… his mind wandered again. He was too embarrassed to tell even Kathryn what had happened today while they were gone. Maybe someday he could tell her, and just maybe someday he would understand how he could have been so wrong about T’Pol.

Was I? But how?! Somehow he had to convince himself he was right all along, that he wasn’t wrong about her! But he had been.

That much was so clear to him now, as clear as the perfect crystal pane on their porch beaming with golden sunlight. But in that memory, the window had shown with an angelic baby-face. She was a beautiful sight, his daughter Elizabeth. But that window was long gone. The empty pane before his absent gaze seemed a poor knockoff beside the memory. But she had shown him it could be so much more than a memory.

No Vulcan had ever given him a gift. A gift… maybe it was more than that. More than a gift, in the wake of such loss he was given a spark of peace. Even if it was only in passing awareness, she was with him again. But it was enough to shatter his stubborn dismissal of T’Pol. His daughter had that effect on Charles. But the empty pane went brazen for an incalculable moment as the streaks of a young girl’s blonde hair seemed to sparkle there again right before his very eyes.

In her own way, it would take the rest of hers years but T’Pol would one day understand the gravity a few moments could have.

---------------------------------------------------------------
*****Flashback – While Trip and Kathryn Were Away*****
---------------------------------------------------------------

Charles marched up the tall stair mightily, the sternness sapped from his frame. He stopped a few strides from the top. It was nearly noon, Trip and his mother were still in town, shopping. Or whatever the hell they’re upta’. The way she insisted Trip come with her and not Charles was enough to get him addled at Kathryn, and suspect they were up to something.

He would rather have gone with Kathryn and leave Trip here with T’Pol. As much as he scoffed at the Vulcan tendency to elevate themselves to an altar of superiority, he squirmed at the idea of being forced into single conversation with T’Pol. It just didn’t sit right, he was afraid of losing his restraint and making some off color remark.

Can’t insult a lady, he scolded himself for even imagining the snide remarks he had made to Vulcans that passed his way over the years had been privy to. He climbed the final stair. But is she a lady? The contradictions played hell on his upbringing and attitude about Vulcans.

He was planning to throw hot dogs on the grill for his lunch, but he knew T’Pol didn’t like meat. He may have disapproved of her and Trip, but he was still a gentleman. He would be hard pressed to be able to prepare any vegetarian dishes to T’Pol’s liking, but the courtesy of the attempt was a remnant of the old days. A simpler time.

When his son would have brought a girl home who was raised a lady. When alien weapons didn’t rain fire on his little girl… And Trip would bring home a nice young lady from down the street, not across the sector. A “lady” by his upbringing’s definition, however, had a fine-print restriction on ear size.

Rounding the stair his pace unconsciously drew slower in anxiety until he came to the door. He hadn’t spoken to T’Pol alone since their arrival and the thought filled him with … he wasn’t sure what it filled him with. It was foolish he told himself, he had spoken to countless Vulcans. And usually made them never forget it, he snickered to himself.

Clearing his throat, he sped the thought out of mind. He was going to make an effort to be courteous to her as long as she was under this roof. The heavy oak door steeled itself at his nose. A rattle against the door to get her attention faded with no answer. Again he nervously tapped the door harder this time.

“Miss T’Pol?” he spoke in a low, quiet voice. Judging that she must be napping he nudged the door open a crack to inspect the room through a tiny crevice. The wonders of diffraction allowed him to survey the entire room, with no sign of her. He crept in quietly, his mighty boots creaking into the rarely-used carpet. Confused for a moment, he suddenly realized an obvious misjudgment on his part. She had been here for going on six days now and had yet to sleep in this bedroom, he knew where to find her. Perhaps his initial forgetfulness bore the signature of denial, a part of him that refused to acknowledge that her son and T’Pol shared a room. It was the same part that refused to see himself in the way his boy looked at T’Pol.

Approaching Trip’s room, he again knocked with less anxiety. Somehow he felt a little less tense, and he stood waiting by the door for the petite Vulcan to show herself. When no answer came again, he moved to enter.

Slipping into the room quietly he immediately caught sight of her, the room was hardly accommodating enough to conceal the Vulcan intensely focused on a single flame. He figured she was involved in some kind of goofy relaxation Trip used to ramble on about.

“Uh, I’m sorry to bother you Ms. T’Pol,” he offered. She didn’t respond. He blinked a few times, wondering if she was ignoring him and then pushed the thought away immediately. Talk around the barrooms of his youth had been filled with crazy stories of Vulcans and their mind powers. He never thought anything of the stories old Pike used to tell him back in his Starfleet days. The fella had to have a dozen in ‘em ‘fore he’d conjure all ‘at crap up to begin with, he snorted. He searched for a flinch, the flick of an eyebrow, any sign of awareness – certain she knew he was there.

Nearly a minute passed while Charles stared at her and finally resolved to get her attention. Vulcan meditation or not he was tired of waiting.

“Ms. T’Pol,” he called more forcefully. On the trailing edge of the obligatory title her eyes lifted slowly, as mighty doors pulled steadily open to reveal a dark and expressionless interior.

“I do not require the honorific with which you address me. I believe it is appropriate that you address me only as ‘T’Pol’, Mr. Tucker.” Her lips moved, but nothing came out, Charles thought. The dry Vulcan vocabulary always disgruntled him, Why couldn’t they just say what they mean?

“Then you may address me as Charles, or even Chuck,” he chuckled. He caught himself smiling at her, and for a moment forgot what she was – or what that meant to him anyway.

The curvature of his lips were passed to Trip, she concurred. She watched with intrigue as her mate’s expressions were nearly perfectly rendered on the man with a minute smirk. She rose from the sitting position after extinguishing the candle.

“I was wonderin’ if you’re hungry, it’s bout noon,” Charles threw a thumb behind his back at the kitchen.

“I do not require nourishment at this time,” she replied quickly. He turned to leave immediately, anxious to erase the uneasy moment.

“Thank you, for… asking,” she managed to his back. The older man turned to her. He nodded a weak smile. In remarkable likeness to his son, he sensed beyond the calm décor of her façade that T’Pol had something on her mind.

“What were you uh, doin’,” he asked, a finger pointed at the pillows on the floor. She paced towards the window with her hands now clasped with renewed poise. Suddenly he wondered just what the hell he was doing asking, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted an answer.

“I see you an’ Trip on those things a lot, what’s it some kinda meditation,” he guessed. She turned abruptly, intrigued by his correct assumption.

“Yes, do you know much of Vulcan meditation,” she asked.

“No. No. Just what Trip’s mentioned,” he replied gruffly. “Not too interested in all ‘at, I ‘spose it’s fer some and not others,” he smiled graciously.

“Trip finds the exercises exceedingly relaxing and conducive to improving the performance of his duties on Enterprise. I began instructing him shortly after…” T’Pol soon found herself uncomfortably trailing off.

Her eyes wandered, and then quickly resettled on Charles. “I did not believe he would possess the mental stamina to learn Vulcan techniques but his progress has been quite impressive,” she added matter-of-factly. The truth of the matter was that her mate had become the first human man to mate with a Vulcan. In so doing, T’Pol had discovered the power of the Vulcan bond could even forge telepathic capability in the more primitive human mind. From matebonding to mindmelding, Trip had nearly done it all. But ‘quite impressive’ she decided, would have to do for now.

His son, good at some Vulcan mind game? It couldn’t be true, Charles thought. Not the boy he remembered leaving home for Starfleet. A gruff disapproval came over his face but he couldn’t shake the feeling he was proud of him. ‘Vulcan praise’ were two words Charles had never imagined in the same sentence about anyone. Much less a rambunctious, fun-loving boy like Trip.

“Is that what you were doin’ there?” he asked politely.

“I was attempted to commune with my mother’s katra, she,” T’Pol hesitated a moment.

“I believe she was fond of Trip as well,” T’Pol winced at the resurfacing memory of her betrothal and marriage to Koss which prompted the meeting of her mother and lover. Charles remained motionless, until in one swift motion he threw his arms across his chest. T’Pol shifted nervously under his scrutinizing stare. Two Vulcan women ‘fond’ of his boy, he wondered what the world was coming to.

“I believe she would have found this place agreeable. And meeting you and Mrs. Tucker,” T’Pol ventured, her voice clipped and unsure of the response the compliment would elicit.

His gaze had drawn to the floor, suddenly shot to her with an errant thought.

“I thought your mother- uhm,” he stammered, frowning at his imprudence. “I’m sorry, I mean I thought she passed away,” his voice lowering in respect.

“That is correct, her life ended approximately ten months ago during an airstrike on a Syrannite encampment. However, Vulcans have the ability to communicate with lost relatives, in a manner of speaking. Some believe that when a Vulcan passes away, part of our katra remains with those with whom we shared… an intimate bond,” she added uncomfortably.

He couldn’t believe he was hearing a Vulcan talk about intimate bonds with family, it was unlike anything he had ever heard from a Vulcan. Charles gaped, “You talk to the dead?” he shot back, wincing at the ridicule in his voice as the words came out.

“Not precisely, the visual memory of my mother allows me to form her image in deep meditation. Memories of her voice, thoughts, actions, many complexities can be incorporated to form a facsimile of her in my thoughts. However, Surak teaches us in the Kir’shara that this representation is not complete without her katra.”

Charles shook his head lightly, the wonder in his eyes betraying the doubt he tried to make evident. He didn’t have a clue what she was talking about, but it was the closest thing he had ever heard to a Vulcan speaking of spirituality.

“But if it’s not really them, what good is it?”

T’Pol unclasped her grip, now moving to sit upon the edge of the bed. Lost in shock, Charles followed and sat.

“There are times in a Vulcan’s life when communion with a parent or elder is necessary to understand events, to benefit from their wisdom and experie-”

“Ya mean talkin’ to yer folks,” he raised his hand slightly with an amused smile. “I get it T’Pol.” He smirked warmly, just like his son, T’Pol noted.

“So you needed to talk to your mama ‘bout something,” Charles replied. He ventured the question, wondering if T’Pol would divulge, assuming as he was that it involved Trip. T’Pol swallowed hard. In the close proximity Charles nearly stared at each flickering and fluttering feature about her face. She sure was beautiful, he realized.

Forgetting the points on her ears, he admired her elegant features even as she sought the right words. The distress encircled her face, showing more emotion than Charles could believe. He was astonished, at a distance she may appear stolid, but up close it was a different story.

“T’Pol if you need’a talk about it,” he began. What good am I gonna do, he thought. A Vulcan’s thoughts, he had no idea what kind of things bothered them. For all he knew she could have been upset over accidentally eating meat. And anyway, it’s none of my damn business, he kept telling himself.

He began to worry something was troubling Trip and T’Pol’s relationship. A week ago he would have celebrated breakup news. Hell, I ‘bout called Natalie on over to talk some sense into the boy.

But looking at her now, a ruin of emotion wracking her gentle features, he couldn’t help but already feel like she was part of the family. Or, that he might be part of the problem.

It was clear to him now that Trip had long since decided to marry her, Charles had only refused to see it himself. She didn’t have any parents left to confide in, and somewhere inside Charles the paternal bond to his lost daughter knocked his prejudice on its ass. He realized he couldn’t help but care about her, and not just for Trip’s sake. She had lost her entire family by his account, unaware of Solkar’s role as paternal caretaker.

Instinct forgot the delicate procedures of cross cultural protocols and Charles laid his hand over her fidgeting fists as they lie on her lap. She appeared to be sitting in utter idleness, but the maelstrom inside told the story of the emotions she was quelling. Internally reciting Surak’s Meditation Mantra, her breathing found a slow and steady rhythm as the world began to fall back into logical focus.

“I wished to consult the memory of my mother to ask her how to approach you regarding… Elizabeth,” T’Pol strained. It was the truth, but not all of it. She had in fact spent many hours in thought on how to approach the man about her, but something else… something much larger also hid in the deep of her mind, troubling her.

Charles’ face was blank, awash with shock and surprise. It was certainly not what he expected, drawing several blinks before he found his tongue.

“El-Elizabeth, what about her?” he was too confused to be distraught by her mention. The name brought T’Pol inching closer, trust and comfort with her mate’s father finally beginning to form. As it always should have, he thought, guiltily.

T’Pol sighed lightly. “Do you wish to speak with her,” she asked with a swift and confidence simplicity. But the soft expression struck Charles like a shuttlepod.

“T-Talk to her, what do you mean, ‘talk to her’?” Charles demanded with slight irritation embedded in the request.

“When Elizabeth passed away, Trip required a great deal of… comfort, he was very distraught by her death,” Charles’ gaze sank to the floor. His steely blue eyes drained for a moment, the absence inside him ripping any joy from his heart once again.

“I assisted, and the recovery was quite difficult. It took several weeks of meditation and communion with her memory but he is finally at peace with her,” T’Pol watched him carefully. She sensed Charles’ discomfort, it was clear when the crew returned from the Xindi mission his parents weren’t happy Earth was talking peace with the Xindi. Especially Charles.

When Trip returned, he couldn’t keep his mouth shut about it, Charles recalled. Every word was about how different some of the Xindi turned out to be than he expected. He couldn’t believe his son speaking of his sister’s murderers with such forgiveness, and resented him bitterly for it at the time.

T’Pol felt it, attempting to lock his eyes to assure him. His finger had gone limp atop her hand, until he felt a warm hand extended atop it. She held it firmly, shocking the old man with at the apparent abandonment of the Vulcan queasiness for touch.

“He cared for her very much,” she insisted. His face contorted in pain, so many memories flashing before his face of Elizabeth’s life. The first day he took her home from the hospital while Kathryn recovered, Elizabeth’s birth had almost been life threatening to her mother. It was perhaps these formative days during her mother’s rocky recovery that such an intimate fond formed between father and daughter. Tears welled in his eyes as he dared to hold back a torrent of regret and loss.

“He too, cried for her,” her voice fell to a bare whisper. Charles choked back the lump in his throat. With a rough snort he wiped his eyes dry and patted T’Pol’s hand absently.

“Allow me to help you, as well. If you are to become my bond-father, it is unacceptable to allow you such suffering when it may be possible to alleviate it.” He looked at her in surprise, then shock, then confusion… And finally understanding, as he assumed what the strange term ‘bond-father’ must mean.

“But it’s not really her, is it?” he asked in a weak voice. T’Pol’s face steeled in anticipation. She feared he may not accept the practice; if so, it could be an emotionally harmful experience she didn’t wish to inflict.

“She will appear as you remember her, what you see will reflect your memory of her,” T’Pol responded evenly. “It may be difficult to form her personality accurately. Trip is the only non-Vulcan I have instructed. I am unsure how capable the human mind is of such complex memory recall.” Charles only nodded in understanding.

He made no objection as she moved from the bed to her former place atop the crimson cushion. She looked up to him as he turned to face her from his seat on the bed.

“Please sit across from me, sit as I do,” T’Pol looked down at her legs as they crossed beneath her. He sat with a huff, growling in mock pain as he moved his old body into position.

“Mah old bones ain’t meant to move ‘is way anymore,” he laughed nervously.

She breathed slowly. Not wishing to discomfort Mr. Tucker, she realized the man knew nothing of Vulcan discipline. The breathing techniques, focused attention, meditative silence – all these things took months to teach Trip.

“We must first begin with basic breathing exercises…”

T’Pol then proceeded to spend nearly an hour instructing a frustrated, albeit persistent Mr. Tucker in a crash course of Vulcan relaxed-breathing techniques.

When he finally became capable of even marginally acceptable levels of concentration, T’Pol began. Several minutes into the exercise a bead of sweat crashed down the man’s forehead. His eyes drooped in frustration, shut as they were from the light of the room. His mind reeled with attempts to conjure the girl’s image. He focused on birthdays, family reunions, even the wobbly girl’s first steps as she paraded across the kitchen floor.

Nothing worked. All wonderful, joyful memories – yet none of them brought Elizabeth into his mind as he remembered her.

“You must see her as she appears in your most troubling moments of grief, you must think of her -” T’Pol tried to reason.

“I can’t, T’Pol!” he cried.

“All I see when I think of her is that café she loved to sit and read at, consumed in fl-” Suddenly an explosion threw the feet out from under him in his mind’s eye, sending his consciousness reeling into darkness. Feeling as though nothingness sank between his body and whatever surface he now lay upon, his eyes opened up to only darkness with a shimmer of light in the distance.

“Daddy!” a voice shouted from his right.

Sweetheart…

Return to Part 1, section 9 (Chapters 17 & 18)

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A handful of people have made comments

Great chapter and worth the wait. I'm just a little confused as to the dynamics of the print here. I see chapter 16 underlined. Perhaps it will adjust in a day. I'll come back to read it again. Can't wait for the next chapter.

A coding error caused the underlining in Chapter 16. It's fixed now.

Bucky

Really good chapter. I like how Charles Jr seems to be comming around. I'm going to go back and reread the previous chapters.

I was so excited when I saw this. I love this story! Can't wait to see what is next.

The dynamics between Charles and T'Pol are wonderful. This is really a marvelous story. I also am impressed with your interpretation of T'Pol's inner thoughts. She's very in character, but still experiencing a tremendous amount of emotion. The balance is difficult to achieve, and you do it well.