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Exploration

Author - Clicks | E | Genre - Romance | Main Story | Rating - R
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Exploration

By Clicks

Rating: R- to be safe.
Genre: Romance
Disclaimer: I am without the means to own these characters, and the means to pay compensation to those who do own them.
Summary: Trip’s agreement with T’Pol to forget about their night together, isn’t being held by either of them. Post-Harbinger, and therefore a sequel to Pale Blue Silk, you may wish to read it first, or maybe just ZG’s special edition report on the episode.
Spoilers: Harbinger, and anything before.
Feedback: Please, even if it’s only to say that you’d rather drink sour milk (although, constructive criticism might be a little more helpful). I want to know that people are reading.

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The Commander looked bemusedly at his computer monitor. His conversation with T’Pol was still fresh in his mind; he’d been mulling it over all day, and had finally decided to deal with what was bothering him.

She had said “exploration” and he had said “experiment”. Upon the screen, were displayed the synonyms to go with each. They provided yet another conundrum for him.
How had T’Pol meant “exploration”; an examination or travelling around? Should exploration have been replaced by looking at, searching, investigation or study? Or would journeying, discovery, adventure and voyaging be better suited?

He knew which meaning of exploration he would prefer. The same sort of exploration Enterprise’s mission had originally been about. Not testing, but learning. Not intending to forget about everything that had been revealed, but trying to understand what had been experienced.

Trip couldn’t help but feel that T’Pol was trying to cover herself. She may have called it ‘exploration’ on the morning after, but he couldn’t forget how that ‘exploration’ had come about--the way she had neatly fielded his accusations of jealousy, but had been quite happy to take advantage of his admission of envy. If she’d been meaning to study human sexuality for all that time, she’d had plenty of opportunity in the last few months. Three times a week they were alone in her quarters doing neuro-pressure. Their first session, she had ostensibly denied any intention of making sexual advances.

T’Pol had only decided to make her move when it had seemed Trip had become involved with another woman.

The more Trip thought about it, the more her phrase rang true. T’Pol was after all a Vulcan, she was meant to suppress emotion. Why would she admit to him that the night before had meant something to her? It was completely against the grain of her personality.

Trip kicked himself. It was wishful thinking and he knew it. He didn’t have any answers. The only person who could tell him what he wanted to know was the woman who it was all about, and he certainly wasn’t going to get anywhere looking at the ship’s thesaurus program.

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Trip’s dreams of T’Pol were generally fanciful and unbelievable, but that night’s dreams were so much worse for being so much more real. No mountain caves or sandy beaches. No waist-length hair tormenting him with visions of fairytale magic. They were on Enterprise, and she was pure unadulterated T’Pol; poker-faced, and taunting him with his emotional weakness.

He woke feeling aggravated and exhausted. Trip knew what the day would hold for him, and it didn’t improve his mood. The damage Malcolm had done to the warp-core was still some ways off completion. At least if he was still working on it, he could plead off dinner with the Captain that evening. He wasn’t sure he could cope with T’Pol after the night he’d just had.

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But when the time came, he’d done everything he could; there was no reason for him to not be in the Captain’s mess at the appropriate time. Damn.

Lieutenant Hess was perfectly capable of monitoring the tolerances while he was gone.

T’Pol was there before him, as Trip had known she would be. She didn’t look uncomfortable, and the engineer decided he would pretend to be honouring their agreement to forget about what had happened. Pity he could never do it for real, he doubted it was remotely possible to forget what this woman looked like when she was naked. She was holding a P.A.D.D. like it was the Holy Grail. This wasn’t going to be an easy meal if she was going to use it as a chance to talk to the Captain about something he had probably ignored all day.

Sure enough, as soon as the yeoman had brought the food, the science officer tried to bring the subject up. Archer was laughing at her, telling her to eat.

“What’s up?” Trip was completely unprepared for the grateful look she shot him when he asked his question. He had only meant to lighten the atmosphere, but whatever it was; T’Pol was willing to use any chance to say it.

“Our current course towards Azati Prime takes us through several dangerous areas of space. It is my opinion that these regions should be avoided.” She was trying to keep her voice neutral; trying to keep the accusation from her voice, but it was fairly obvious that the captain was discounting her information. Trip had seen this happen again and again: the captain consistently set aside T’Pol’s recommendations, often to detrimental effect.

“These regions are dangerous, how?” Trip asked. Archer was stonily shovelling food into his mouth, trying not to pay attention to the conversation. He liked small talk at the dining table, not heavy conversations about duty, and both of his senior officers were aware of this.

“If we stay on our current heading we shall pass through two radiation belts, both of which could pose significant risks to the ship’s personnel. We’ll come into close proximity with a class-9…”

“Enough! T’Pol, I want no more business at the table. Eat your meal, and restrain your thought patterns to less taxing subjects.” Both the Chief Engineer and the First Officer stared at their commanding officer, then exchanged glances. They both knew the attempt had failed; they could not try again during the meal.

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T’Pol sat quietly for the rest of the meal. The Captain had once again refused to acknowledge her speciality. Despite her Vulcan training, she knew that she would be unable to stay entirely civil if she attempted open conversation with him. Commander Tucker sent her reassuring looks every so often, and T’Pol was glad of it. Although their relationship was a volatile one, rarely resulting in anything except the most extreme outcome, T’Pol knew that when ‘push came to shove,’ as Mr. Tucker would say, the engineer was one of her staunchest allies.

There was no denying that Commander Tucker was one of the few people who could read her. It had been very disconcerting when he had said he didn’t need to be an expert to do so; but, she mentally acknowledged, they spent considerable time alone together, and doing so had given him a special insight into her reactions. He was probably well aware of how little control she felt at that moment; he was certainly trying to fill the gaps in the conversation left by T’Pol’s unwavering silence.

The repast seemed interminable. When her desert plate was finally cleared, T’Pol took the opportunity to excuse herself; exhausted by the sheer will-power required to refrain herself from giving the Captain her opinion of his attitude toward her. As she left the table she could feel the eyes of both men upon her.

She wasted no time, acknowledging any of the crew as she made her way across the main mess hall, and headed straight for the turbo-lift. By the time she entered her quarters, she was too disturbed to do anything more than slide down the nearest wall, curl into the foetal position, and let the tears fall. She knew she needed to meditate, but she could not persuade her body to move; she was entirely incapable of regaining her composure.

She was unsure of how much time passed before her door chime sounded. Still powerless to disentangle her limbs, she made no effort to open the door. Surprisingly the chime did not ring a second time; it merely swept open to reveal Commander Tucker.

T’Pol glared at her intruder, but he took no notice, instead he entered her bathroom and got her a glass of water. She could feel rage rising within her; he had no right to simply sweep into her personal space and start doing things for her. When he had the audacity to light her meditation candles for her, T’Pol actually growled out loud; she didn’t need him to treat her like a dependant child.

She had half expected him to drag her up out of her position by the door, and place her on the waiting floor cushion; but he did not. Instead he stretched out upon her bed and started reading from a P.A.D.D.; insolent man!

She pulled herself across the floor, and sat cross legged in front of the candles, promptly forgetting about the engineer’s presence as she concentrated upon the lightly dancing flame.

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“What are you reading, Commander?”

Trip looked up at the woman standing over him and smiled. The tears he had seen when he entered had dried up, and she looked serene. It was a relief to him.

“It’s your sensor report. You left it in the Captain’s mess; he didn’t pick it up when he left. I’m trying to think of a way to get him to take note.”

T’Pol sat down beside him, and aimed a contented blink his way. The expression was one he had come to recognise as her version of a smile; occasionally he even saw the corners of her mouth twitch when she made it. It was an expression that never failed to make him feel warm inside; he was a sucker for that blink.

“Your assistance would be most welcome, Commander.”

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“How on earth did we end up doing neuro-pressure? I certainly don’t remember making any requests.”

“Tonight is our usual night. It was logical for us to proceed since you were here, in my quarters.”

“Shouldn’t I be performing it on you? You were the one who got all emotional earlier.”

“That has been resolved by meditation. However, you may work on my feet in the next posture.”

Trip chuckled; as much for her manner of bestowing permission as for their current posture. He couldn’t help remembering what had happened the last time they were in it, two nights ago. He knew it was still fairly fresh in T’Pol’s mind as well; she wasn’t quite meeting his eye, and a green flush had crept onto her cheekbones. Never the less, she made no move to put any distance between them, and she remained fairly ‘cheerful’, if a Vulcan could be so.

They shifted into the next posture; Trip needed to concentrate more when he was working on T’Pol. He wasn’t adept enough at neuro-pressure to split his attention between the technique and conversation; as the problem with Amanda had shown.

It was amazing how comfortable the atmosphere actually was. As a result from their last session, things could have been strained between them. There was one benefit of Captain Archer’s selfish response to T’Pol’s recommendations: T’Pol had needed Trip’s support, and that need had stabilized their relationship-- for now.

When T’Pol moved, some time later, to enter the next posture, Commander Tucker hesitated.

“Perhaps we should skip this one, T’Pol.”

“Why? I don’t believe there is anything wrong with this posture.”

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with the posture, I suppose. It’s just that when we’re in this one, and you’re wearing these pyjamas… I have a fairly good view when you lean over me.” The last part of his statement was rushed, and his face reddened.

“I see… We don’t have to proceed if it will make you uncomfortable. I am surprised you haven’t brought this up before.”

“Huh, well…Before, it was a bit…amusing. But, since we’ve been…intimate, I think it might be better if I didn’t let you feed my memory.”

Both of T’Pol’s eyebrows rose. Trip wasn’t sure if her reaction was caused by his admission to peeking up her top in the past, or his refusal to do so now that he knew what her breasts looked like when free of all that silk.

“I believe I should point out that you have been feeding my memory all evening. It would be unfair for you to refuse a posture on those grounds, since I have been exposed to several reminders and haven’t chosen to miss a posture.”

Trip swallowed, he had no choice. He lay down on the floor with his head resting upon her lap, and gave himself up to the torture that was sure to follow. T’Pol worked as she always worked. She displayed no modesty; she left all the usual buttons of her top undone, and provided him with a spectacular vision of her breasts, swinging slightly as she moved. Damn, this woman could be cruel when she wanted to be.

“Tell me, T’Pol, is this method of torture standard practice in Vulcan Intelligence. If so I swear, I’m this close to breaking.”

The attempt at humour brought a triumphant gleam to T’Pol’s eyes. “That is good. It is pleasing to know I have you under my power.”

“Oh, I’m under your power, am I? Are you planning to seduce me again?”

The science officer blushed so hard, not a patch of her usually golden face remained its familiar colour. Trip laughed gently as he looked up at her; glad of his small victory. She looked him in the eye and blinked making him incapable of looking away from her wide bedroom eyes. Trip cursed her for doing so. How could he resist her when she did that in the middle of a conversation like this?

They broke the posture, and she allowed him to kiss her. Just gentle forays that were designed to ascertain that this was what they both wanted. Slowly, passion seeped in from the edges, and mouths opened to allow a deeper exploration. Trip felt her wind her arms around his neck, and in return his went around her back, pulling her closer, pressing her against him.

Trip undid the two fastenings that held her pyjama top in place, and slid his hands over her shoulders, dislodging the filmy material, letting it fall down her arms. He looked at her fine olive skin; it seemed luminous in the candle light. He couldn’t help but tell her how beautiful she was before pulling her back against him and kissing her soundly once more.

“Damn, T’Pol, but you’re heaven to kiss.”

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T’Pol woke an hour and a half before her alarm. The first thing she was aware of was the smell. It was not unpleasant; she had long since ceased to find the human scent disagreeable. The particular fragrance she was surrounded in was the one she was most familiar with, the one she found the most addictive. It took her a moment to work out why the scent should be so strong; it was usually nearly entirely dissipated by morning. Then she felt the mattress beneath her move, when she hadn’t shifted at all.

He was there. She had slept beside him all night. She amended the thought; some of the night. The memories were flooding back, and she knew they had spent several hours indulging in each other, trying to quench insatiable passions. Exhaustion had driven them to sleep, not total fulfilment. They had been like starving creatures, feasting after months without food, still hungry for each other but unable to take another bite. T’Pol turned to look at him in the dark, and felt her desire for him return.

She knew that she had been foolish trying to stop the inevitable. She wasn’t sure why she had tried to put him off after they had first come together; he would probably tell her exactly why she had done it. He knew her so well, and despite seeming to be entirely irrational, he could often decipher the motive behind her responses.

As though he detected her intense gaze, his eyes slowly opened. The intense blue stare made T’Pol slightly nervous. Just like he would always become aware of her ears first, she would always notice his eyes. They were the most alien thing about him, but she found them deeply attractive and on occasion was entirely incapable of looking away.

“Morning.”

“Good morning, Trip.”

“You called me Trip again, you did last night too, why the change of heart?”

“Since we are to be intimate, it would be inappropriate to address you by your rank when we are alone. I didn’t think you would appreciate being called by your given name; I don’t believe you allow anyone else to use it.”

“If you’d decided to call me ‘Charles’, I might have made an exception. But I’m glad you’re willing to call me ‘Trip’.”

“Excuse me, but I don’t remember calling you Trip last night.”

“Well, you were, should I say… distracted.” T’Pol wasn’t sure what he meant, until he quirked an eyebrow at her, from which she guessed that she had called out the name when she climaxed. She found it perplexing, since it meant that she must have already thought of him- subconsciously- as ‘Trip’; she had been unaware of this until now.

“I guess I should head back to my own quarters. I need a fresh uniform and a shower before reporting for duty.”

“Yes, I suppose you should.” Her slightly disappointed tone made Trip grin. He climbed out of bed, dragging her with him and kissed her.

“Meet me for breakfast in forty-five minutes. We may not be able to jump on each other, but I want to spend some more time with you”

“Yes, I will see you soon, Trip.” Finally dressed in his clothes from the night before, he dropped a light kiss on the end of her nose and flashed a jaunty smile at her before heading out.

T’Pol walked to her closet and wished she knew which of her cat-suits Trip preferred, and then reproved herself for having such an irrational thought as she grabbed the blue.

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“From what I understand, there’s a large trading post in this system. If we had to divert there, on our new course we would avoid everything, except this radiation belt.” Trip watched her reaction, and knew she’d detected a flaw.

“Captain Archer is unlikely to agree to visit this trading post. He appears set on reaching Azati Prime as soon as possible.”

“I thought of that, T’Pol. I can’t complete repairs to the warp core without a replacement injector assembly, we could probably find something suitable there. If we tried to go above warp2 with the damaged one in place, we’ll be looking at a disaster. There’s still a long slog to get to Azati Prime; the captain’s going to want speed. He’ll agree to a pit stop at Reesella III; the speeds we’ll be able to reach with a new injector will more than make up for the diversion.”

“Commander, you haven’t fabricated this need for a part, have you? If the captain should discover it…”

“No T’Pol. This is a real problem, and its solution also solves some of your problems. I’m going to take it to the captain. The question is do you want to present it with me?”

“Yes… I believe the captain will be more willing to read my report now. Thank you, Commander.”

Trip leaned closer to her ear as they walked out of the room and whispered into her ear, “You look really good in that colour.” T’Pol blushed, the only sign of the highly illogical thoughts that had crossed her mind –gorgeous, insolent man! You don’t look too bad yourself.


A.N.: Feedback please, and just for the record, I do intend to write the away mission as a sequel.

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A whole mess of folks have made comments

hehehe, I like it I like it! Very nice job with this.

Great story, wish the writers would implement some of the fancfiction into the episodes. It would improve them a great deal.

I loved it. Your characterization of our favorite "couple" is dead on. But I do sense a high degree of "anti-Archer". I have never seen him as ignoring even listening to T'Pol's recommendations or being dismissive of them...especially during such an important mission. BUt characterizing Archer in that way did serve the indirect purpose of moving T+T together..... so I'll happily accept it.

That was beautiful...
:)
I really liked how well Trip knows her, since it shows there's more there than just... y'know...
LOL
Great work!!

Yum, that was a tasty treat. Very well done. I'm looking forward to more of your writing. =)

-Delirium

AWWWWWSSSSSSOOOOOMMMMMMEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I loved this!!!!!!!! I DEMAND A SEQUEL!!!

very good job.
quills

Very good. Illogical T'Pol's dialogue is entertaining. :)

Wonderful story!! A sequel would be very much appreciated.

YES! Fabulous job! Doesn't T'Pol know that resistance is futile?
I liked how they ended up together after another witty exchange. And the fact that she didn't DENY HER FEELINGS this time was also a plus.

Great job! Can't wait for the sequel!

I like this. Very true to the characters. Thanks!

Great, great, great!!! Sequel please! :D

And perhaps you could Trip introduce to the possibility of a quickie?! Nobody needs one and a half hour for shower, dressing and breakfast! Ts, ts, ts....

Great, great, great!!! Sequel please! :D

And perhaps you could Trip introduce to the possibility of a quickie?! Nobody needs one and a half hour for shower, dressing and breakfast! Ts, ts, ts....;)

Loved it, made excellent reading, can't wait for a sequel, roll on!!!

Heehee, great piece of Trip/T'pol -- I absolutely loved it. Your characterization was really great, especially Trip (he's just so COOL, lol), and your T'Pol was good too.

I'm looking forward to a sequel!

MORE! MORE! MORE!!!!


Oh yes yes yes i so agree with the others this so is calling for a SEQUEL!!!!!

Oh yes yes yes i so agree with the others this so is calling for a SEQUEL!!!!!

Ooooh! Love it - love it - love it!! This is now bookmarked as one of my very favorites. I can't wait to read more. Thanks for a wonderful story.

Today was not a very good day at work and I was hoping to find something pleasant to read that would improve my mood before going on to bed. I am so glad I chose to read your story tonight! Now I can have wonderful dreams about a certain blue-eyed engineer whom we all know and love! :)

Thanks again!

That was really wonderful. Hopefully we will see T'pol acknowledge her feelings for Trip in season 4. Your characterisation for Trip and T'pol was spot on and I like the way you showed T'pol actually getting annoyed when Archer was being rude and dismissive to her. Hope you are still considering a sequel.

for the most part I enjoyed this fic a lot, but I just don't buy Archer's attitude to her. He hasn't shown that kind of attitude to her, and in fact does listen to her reports.

You may not care for him, but he's not the boor you make him out to be.

Loved it! You're good!

Please Sequel.. pretty please