Of All...Times- Ch. 8

Of all the Times, Places, and People!

By Eratta

PG-13, General
Disclaimer: It all belongs to Paramount

A/N: Okay, here we go! Last chapter! I just wanted to take the time to thank all my readers, reviewers and non-reviewers alike. It's always hard for me to end stories; particularly ones that I'm exceptionally fond of. So bear with me if this end is of a lower quality than you expect or if it's not really fitting. I'm only 17- I don't know too much about writing! Oh, and Nikitee? I don't know what T'Pol was reading. Maybe some relaxing philosophy? I purposefully leave little details like that open because I think it allows the reader to add his/her own personal touches, thus making it more believable and enjoyable for him/her. Okay, ready? This is it!

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Part 8

They reached her quarters quickly, and thankfully the corridors had been unusually empty. Trip stepped inside the darkened room with the Vulcan leaning on him. Carefully, he moved to the bed and let her slide off his arm onto it. Adjusting to the quality of light, he could see that she was relieved to be back in her own space. The way her hands roamed appreciatively over the blankets and the quick checks to make sure the room was undisturbed were small and discreet, but Tucker knew her well enough by now to know she didn't ever make any unnecessary movements.

Now that they were actually here, he no longer had a purpose or reason to stay with her. Trip's eyes roamed over the little cabin, trying somehow to derive a reason to remain. But T'Pol noticed and quickly called him on it.

"Are you looking for something, Mr. Tucker?"

Caught and off-balance, Trip fumbled. "Um, no . . . I was just checkin' to make sure yer . . . uh, ventilation system's working all right. There were some problems before we went planetside."

If T'Pol knew he was lying through his teeth, she allowed him to keep his dignity and said nothing. Although, now that he mentioned it, there was something different in the air. She couldn't quite place it, but there was a lingering hint of a smell. 'A human smell.' She realized in wonder. But what human besides the Commander and Captain had ever been inside her quarters?

"So, does it feel alright to you? The thermostat and everything?" Trip asked absently.

"Actually, it is slightly cooler than I would prefer." She responded, surprising him.

"Really? Seems just fine to me. 22 degrees Celsius?" Trip walked over to the vent in the corner of the room and held a hand up over it.

"My idea of a comfortable temperature is higher than yours." T'Pol informed him.

"I don't get it; doesn't it get cold in the desert at night?" He called. He was now in the bathroom.

"It is never below 25 degrees, even on the coolest nights." She returned, still seated on the bed. Her inability to place the lingering smell was beginning to trouble her.

Trip came back out, grinning knowingly. "So that's why ya never wear anything but that full-body suit."

"Yes. Space is cold; naturally our garments are designed to keep us warm."

"So you don't wear those long robes on Vulcan?"

"We do, but we don't have to." T'Pol answered. She cocked her head at him in a way that was all her own, and curiously asked a question of her own.

"Why are you so eager to know about such trivial things?"

Trip shrugged and scratched at the stubble on his jaw.

"I've always been curious, but you Vulcans are a little hard to approach, if you know what I mean."

"I am difficult to approach?" She clarified. There was no hint of animosity in her voice, but out of habit and instinct Trip backpedaled. After all they'd gone through; he didn't want to offend her now.

"No! Not you, well, not anymore . . . I mean, it's just-" He shut up, silenced by the imperious yet causal manner in which she raised her hand. The engineer stared at her helplessly.

"There is no need to explain, Commander. I understand you may have been intimidated by me during the early days of our acquaintance." Again, there was no emotion behind her pleasant voice; just simple understanding. But it Trip's opinion, it was too MUCH understanding. His eyes narrowed as he prepared to defend himself and all human males.

"Now wait just a minute, I never said anythin' about bein' intimidated."

Again, she cocked an eyebrow at him. The simple movement both endeared her to him and fueled his defense-born irritation, although he wasn't sure who he should be more irritated with: her for correctly guessing or himself for being living proof of her callous statement. In any case, the truth of the matter was she didn't believe him. A year ago, Trip would have fought with her over it, if only to have an excuse for one of their verbal fencing matches he enjoyed so much. But now, today, this very moment, he looked beyond himself and saw that she was tired. He sighed and tried to get back to the original conversation.

"Anyway, my point was, I never got a chance ta get some a' my questions answered.

"Doesn't the database contain the information you want?"

"I already tried it. There's nothing in there about customs or things that don't relate to work of some kind."

T'Pol was surprised. Commander Tucker, the second most vocal critic of her race in her acquaintance, had just said he was interested in her customs. She had never imagined it, never conceived of the possibility that he could have a genuine, persistent interest that wasn't related to women or machinery. And here he was, standing in her quarters, telling her that he'd like to learn more about Vulcans.

"I would be happy to remedy that situation, given that your questions are . . . appropriate.

He grinned at her impishly. "I dunno, what's your definition of appropriate?" He had said that deliberately, wanting to see that priceless womanly-yet-entirely-Vulcan look of scant tolerance. And though she did reward him with it, Trip knew it was time to go and leave her in peace before he got on her nerves.

The engineer chuckled deep in his throat. "No, don't answer that. I won't bother you anymore tonight."

She looked away from him, gazing out at the darkness of space through her window. Softly, she replied, "Thank you for assisting me, Commander. Both tonight and for the past two days."

Trip's cheeks bloomed unseen in the dimmed light of T'Pol's cabin, and a small, almost shy smile graced is lips. "Your always welcome, T'Pol. I hope you know that."

The SubCommander didn't know what to say. His pheromones told her plenty about how he was feeling at the moment, but she didn't know what the correct response to such a declaration was. And the subtle undertones signified that it was in fact a declaration, of friendship if nothing else. As a return gesture, she regally nodded her head. Trip excused himself and made his way towards the engine room, whistling a cheerful southern tune.

Meanwhile, T'Pol was settling herself down onto her meditation mat, preparing for some much needed concentration and mental quiet time. And just as she had become comfortable and was moments away from reaching her inner sanctum, the chime of her doorbell sounded. Slowly opening her eyes, the lithe Vulcan stretched beneath her soft, spacious robe. 'Most likely the captain.' She thought. Sighing silently, she called out,

"Enter."

But to her surprise, it wasn't the captain who stood nervously in her door. Rather, it was Ensign O'Connor, her 'wing-man', as humans referred people in such relationships. T'Pol had singled him out from the start of the mission as an exceptionally intelligent and respectable human. Through their countless hours together examining or discussing various aspects of science, she had learned that he was quite mature and responsible for a man his age (and for a human as well). And he was also the only human she knew who treated her as another human. Though a superior human, given her superior rank. He never made references to her race, or became offended at her suggestions of bettering himself. He took all the she said in stride and tried to incorporate it into his daily routine. And for that, T'Pol had to respect him. But all this rushed past her mind as she instantly recognized his scent. O'Connor had been in her quarters. Why?

She looked at him hard, wondering if her understanding of the ensign's character had somehow been compromised. Thomas squirmed under her intense scrutiny, and he truly hoped he'd be able to tell her before she guessed the reason for his late visit. Like a queen addressing a peasant, T'Pol gracefully extended her hand, gesturing for him to take a seat opposite her. Haltingly, he did so.

T'Pol regarded Thomas for a quick moment, taking in everything with a quick study of his form. He was sweating and trembling; his eyes that normally had no difficulty meeting hers were suddenly fixed on the thick candle between them. He looked tired and ashamed. T'Pol couldn't begin to guess what had reduced him to his current state of humility and brokenness, and felt a surge of pity. But there was still the issue of him being in her quarters, alone and uninvited while she was away. And despite the improbability of it, the logic reigned supreme over her mind. Deciding to get to the point, she opened with a not unkind but serious,

"Would you mind telling me why you were in my quarters while I was away, ensign?"

Thomas's dark eyes slowly looked up to hers, and there she could see both shame and relief pooling in them. He sat straight and tall, as he always did in her presence, and replied,

"SubCommander, I believed it was necessary to use any and all means of returning you and Commander Tucker to Enterprise." He said calmly.

"That doesn't explain why you entered a superior's private quarters. If I'm not mistaken, such an offense can be used as grounds for a severe reprimand."

Thomas swallowed and continued, "I'm aware of that, ma'am. I acted alone, and only for the purpose of finding you."

T'Pol regarded him contemplatively, and Thomas visibly stilled himself. After a moment, she asked,

"What exactly did you do, ensign?"

The astrophysicist took a deep breath and absently smoothed down the front of his uniform. "I made upgrades to the sensors."

"Then I assume you came here, accessed highly classified Vulcan information and incorporated it into Enterprise's main computer?" Her expression was unreadable, but her voice was hard and sharp as a facet-cut diamond.

His voice was strong as he verified her conclusion. "Yes, SubCommander. I took the book you once showed me and ran the text through the translation matrix. I then applied the modifications during the graveyard shift and deactivated them an hour later after I'd pinpointed your bio-signs. I then erased all traces of the modifications and destroyed them."

The woman's beautiful face, lit up alluringly by the deep-seated flame in her large candle, was still. No emotion was betrayed at all. To Thomas, it seemed that she wasn't even alive. Then, slowly and with an effortlessly controlled slowness that marveled the man, she stood and fetched the book he had described. Leafing through it, she knew at least that portion of the story was true: the book still smelled like him. She appraised him again.

"Yon ran this entire volume through the translation matrix." She reiterated, knowing very well that it would be nearly impossible for him to have done so. Logically, he would have taken it to Ensign Sato, who may or may not have known his intentions. T'Pol should have been irritated with him for lying to her, but she was relieved. His efforts to protect the ensign and assign the entirety of the blame on himself were honorable and appropriate. Indeed, T'Pol expected no less from him. At Thomas' nod, T'Pol reflected, thinking on what she should do.

The situation really wasn't as serious as he thought it was, but that was to her advantage. What he had done was still a major breech in protocol, but it had been a good judgment call on his part. If faced with a similar situation, she wasn't sure if she wouldn't have done the same. She had come to her decision. Snapping the book shut with authority, she returned her dark, piercing gaze to her subordinate.

"You know that I should report this incident to Captain Archer, and that you should at the very least receive a serious reprimand that will appear on your permanent record."

Thomas nodded his head curtly. He was prepared for whatever punishment they deemed appropriate. "Yes ma'am, I'm aware of that, just as I was aware of it when I entered your cabin and made the modifications."

"Then you will fully appreciate your good fortune, as I will not be reporting this incident."

The Irishman's jaw fell, and he was honestly struck dumb. T'Pol felt a mild satisfaction at his reaction, and pressed on.

"However, a punishment is still warranted. You will spend the next two months working with the junior crewmembers in the science lab, helping them develop their skills and improve their knowledge of the correlation between the sciences." She finished calmly.

T'Pol knew this was a just punishment. Thomas was overqualified for the assignment she'd given him, and that made it a punishment. However, he would benefit from the teaching experience, as would the other crewmen. And it was also plausible enough that the Captain and Starfleet wouldn't look into it further.

Thomas gazed at the woman with a level of respect that he'd never felt towards any other person. She was saving his career! Even after what he'd done! Perhaps she felt that she owed him a favor, or maybe she was just really, really nice. Or maybe it was just logic working in his favor. The ensign continued to contemplate his good luck as he left the darkened cabin, not fully out of his daze. Alone and in peace again, T'Pol indulged herself in a small, inward smile. It was rather amusing and quite ironic that a man so intelligent could be so easily fooled. He believed that he'd seen truly advanced, classified schematics, when in reality Starfleet advanced engineering students had been studying them for years. They were only scanner designs for old freighters which weren't even used outside Vulcan space. But he didn't need to know that. Mentally, the Vulcan scientist shook her head at it. Apparently, folly wasn't restricted to simple minds.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Jonathon prowled the darkened corridors that night, unable to sleep yet again. But this time, he wasn't worried as a captain; he was worried as a friend. That display of Trip's in Sickbay that morning had puzzled and intrigued him, while at the same time stirring up a fear for his old friend. Though he knew quite a bit about Trip's track record with women, he'd seen enough examples of love and infatuation to know the difference. And the scary thing was; Trip was acting like he loved their science officer.

If T'Pol had been anything but Vulcan, Jon wouldn't feel this way. Though regulations still prohibited romantic relationships aboard Starfleet vessels, they had become so lax and outdated that there were serious talks of redrafting them. Starfleet was beginning to realize that you can't prevent life, even on a starship. But of course, didn't know about the discussions back home, and as far as he was concerned, they were just a formality anyway. He was content to let relationships form, as long as they didn't interfere with duties.

But as he made his leisurely way down into the heart of the ship, the tightness and sense of apprehension wouldn't leave his mind. He considered both Trip and T'Pol as his good friends, but he honestly couldn't see how they could make a relationship work. Both were extremely stubborn and set in their ways (although T'Pol had been forced to confront some major issues within her society, there was no doubt that she remained entirely Vulcan), not to mention they had the uncanny knack of knowing exactly what would set the other off.

And however impossible he told himself it was, Archer knew that if any two people could beat the statistics, it was those two. Trip, he knew from years of friendship, cared deeply about only a handful of things. And if T'Pol was one of those blessed few, he would have a long, hard time letting go of her, if he let go of her at all. T'Pol, on the other hand, he was less certain of. Yes, he knew very well that despite her culture's stubborn refusal to acknowledge their emotions, they felt. And she in particular felt deeply. Oh, she hid it very well. He'd only glimpsed it once or twice, but that meant that somewhere beneath all her layers of duty, culture, upbringing, and heritage, she was a woman through and through, with the ability to sympathize, empathize, and possibly even love.

In fact, it was because he'd only briefly seen behind her outer appearance that Jon realized how little he really knew about her, which increased the possibility that T'Pol could reciprocate Trip's feelings.

Archer passed through the doors directly in front of him, stepping across the threshold of Tucker's domain. Turning his eyes up expectantly, he saw the familiar broad shoulders and sandy-brown hair. 'Of course,' the captain thought to himself with a grin, 'Trip wouldn't have been able to sleep without ensuring that his precious engines were in top shape.' He called out amiably, "Shouldn't you be resting, or something?"

Trip turned around, surprised to find Archer below him on the deck. With the usual grin, he loped down the steep stairway, coming down to the floor. He looked good, Archer noted. Happy with the state of things, no doubt, but also . . . he didn't know the words to describe it, but Trip definitely was different. The change was so subtle it was almost impossible to pinpoint, but it was there nonetheless.

"Ya know me, Cap'n. Couldn't sleep so I figured I'd catch up on some work."

The captain chuckled and said, "You sound like T'Pol."

He hadn't meant to mention her, at least not directly by name, but Jon had momentarily forgotten himself. Now, though, he carefully watched the expression on Trip's face. He was amused and his eyes twinkled, like a kid keeping a special secret. In that instant, Archer knew this was serious. This wasn't like the southerner's previous 'encounters' with alien women, or even human women. For some reason, T'Pol had distinguished herself from all the others to him, and there was no turning back.

Archer sighed and clapped a companionable hand on Trip's shoulder, thinking hard about how to address this.

"Come on. Chef made pecan pie in your honor." He said with a knowing grin. Trip's face lit up and he replied,

"Well why didn't you say so in the first place?!"

Their late-night snack was their first one of their man to man, friend to friend talks in a long time. Sometimes things got so hectic, it was hard to have relaxed conversations. Lasting for over two hours, they caught up on funny stories, ship rumors, with plenty of reflection on the side. Trip finished off his second piece of the syrupy pie and sat back, content to nurse his beverage. Though their conversation had been relaxed and friendly, Archer was a little anxious. He wanted to address the issue of Trip and T'Pol, but he didn't want to put Trip on edge. And being well acquainted with his friend's temper, he knew that one wrong word could set off a chain reaction.

"So how was it down there?" He asked softly, hoping that Trip would open up without much prying on his part.

"'Wasn't so bad at first." Trip began, staring down into the dregs of his drink. "The first day, I thought only I was hurt, and not even that bad. I spent the day tryin' ta figure out what had happened, and how to get the beacon workin'". Trip paused, not really wanting to remember the next part. But the captain was waiting, and he'd have to give a report some time anyway.

"You two didn't argue? I'm pretty sure there was a poll running on how long it would take you to kill each other." Archer told him, draining his beer.

Trip shook his head, partly in humor, partly in nervousness. How could he tell the captain about what they'd been through together? Did he have the authority to disclose what T'Pol had told him about herself? Should he even tell Jon how he felt about her? 'No.' He decided dejectedly. Much as he wanted to share his joy at finally finding an exceptional, interesting woman, it was too dangerous. Jon was the captain, and he had responsibilities to make sure there was no fraternization onboard. Clearing his head, he pressed on with the story.

"We haven't had a big argument for months now. I don't know. Maybe she was makin' an effort to be nice. Anyway, we decided ta climb a nearby hill the next day, thinking that maybe the beacon would work better where it wasn't so wet. It wasn't too much later that I noticed T'Pol was havin' trouble. I guess she'd had it all along, but at that point it was so bad she couldn't hide it from me."

"How bad?" Archer asked, knowing how frightened Trip must have been.

"Terrible. I've never seen 'er so vulnerable an' weak." He shuddered at the memory. It was still too recent for his liking, and he was suddenly struck by the urge to go check on her. Not realizing that he'd sunk into himself, Trip said no more. He stared at his hands, not seeing them, or anything in the room. Archer knew he was re-living the ordeal, watching every painful, frightening moment of it.

He leaned forward and gently shook the Commander, bringing him out of the awful memories. He decided now to address the controversial issue, because he knew it was on Trip's mind.

"You know Trip, when we got you back, I noticed something."

"Yeah?" Trip replied absently.

"I've never seen you so protective of anyone before. It surprised me especially because there used to be a lot of hostility between you and her. I was wondering; how long have you felt this way?" Archer said nothing more, allowing Trip a little time to process that. He knew that in situations such as this, it was often better to leave as much unspoken as possible.

Trip, hearing the implied question in the captain's voice, froze in fear. 'Shitshitshit!' he thought frantically. 'Dammit, he knows! Oh crap . . . not good Tucker, not good!' He took a shaky breath, and desperately tried to assemble an excuse.

"It's nothin', really. I was just so worried after she went into a coma . . . I couldn't just leave . . ." He looked hopelessly at his commanding officer, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that he didn't buy it. Jon was smart and observant; it was futile to try to keep things from him. Furious with himself for being so obvious, Trip missed the kindness in Archer's face.

"Trip," stated, forcing the reluctant engineer to face him. "I don't know what happened, and I don't want to. As long as you both want it and keep it off-duty, I don't have a problem with it."

Trip was silent. A suckered feeling reminiscent of the time he'd been thrown off a bucking horse at a state fair came over him, and he couldn't for the life of him utter a single coherent sentence.

"But . . . you can't . . . I mean we can't . . . it's against everythin' . . ." Finally, flustered at his own inability to articulate and Archer's wry smile, he choked out.

"Are ya crazy? It's completely against regulations!"

"Would it have stopped you if I'd forbidden it?" his friend inquired.

"Hell no! But at least you woulda done yer job!" Trip retorted animatedly.

Archer sat back and rested both hands flat on the table. "In this case, I'd rather keep a friend than make a few lives miserable over a stupid rule. Just keep it quiet, and you won't hear anything from me."

Words couldn't express Trip's gratitude and fierce loyalty. He'd follow this good man into hell itself. And though he remained silent, the look on his face was enough thanks for Archer. Standing and taking his glass to the clean-up drawers, he called over his shoulder, "Get some sleep tonight. I expect to see you bright and early tomorrow."

Trip grinned and fought off a monster yawn. "Yessir. G'night Cap'n."

"Goodnight Trip."

It took a few moments in the silence for Trip to realize just how lucky he was. He had a friend who'd overruled regulations for him, and a chance with the woman who really mattered to him. Bouncing up cheerfully, he strode down the emptied corridors to his quarters. He was going to make the best of both relationships, and he was going to start by making sure that a certain Vulcan wouldn't be on any away-missions for a while.

The End . . . or is it The Beginning?

A/N: Yeah, definitely need to write a sequel. So, how was this? I confess I'm especially in need of reviews now, since I've read a number of exceedingly good stories lately and I feel pretty juvenile and untalented (Alison Dobell, I've just read Attraction, and since Trip/Tipplers wouldn't let me review, I'll just say it here. I've actually been meaning to read your work for months now, but simply haven't had the time. Today, I decided to finally do it, and wow! Your talent is extraordinary. Your way with words and phrases is nothing short of genius, and I really can't articulate my awe of your work. Have you ever had anything published? Because if you haven't, I seriously suggest you find an agent and write a novel. You could live off the royalties, I'm sure. I'll be visiting your website soon, I promise! And I'll give you even more praise.) Just indulge a poor teenager and leave a kind review, would you? Please?

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A whole mess of folks have made comments

Nice ending to a good story! Yes, you must write a sequel.

As for leaving comments: the last chapter entered on the site is always open for comments.

...and you'd better be an 18-year-old teenager, Aratte! all Ali D.'s stories are NC-17--you wouldn't want to get us in trouble....

Great. My favourite story until now. Please, please, please: write a sequel.

Don't worry Bucky! I have parental consent.

I really good ending! And a very good beginning for a Sequel. And this time I don't sound so greedy since you said that there was need for one. :) Keep writing!

I really loved the way you resolved the ending of this story, setting up the sequel. What was also nice to see was the Captain in a more sympathetic light towards Trip and T'Pol. Wonderful, a whole pile of thanks! Ali D :~)

Sequel! Sequel! Sequel! Sequel! :)
Wonderful story!

this was great!!! i really really hope ya write a sequal soon!!!

I liked this story and am off to read the sequel. But I can't figure out the Trip-as-a-womanizer thing. Whatever happened to "only had three relationships" Trip? Reed's the ladies man. True, we haven't seen him get any ladies, but he did write letters to quite a few.

First of all, this was a beautiful story!

Of all the good scenes in it, the one that will stay with me for quite a while is the one where T'Pol tells Trip she once considered Engineering as a career. That was such a mundane discussion, no freaky space phenomena, no time-distortions, not even enemy phaser fire -- just two friends talking. And these are the scenes I can really relate to, because these are people I know and can identify with. While I read it, I could really see those two sitting there, shyly enjoying each others company.

So you have really teased my imagination with this story. Thank you for that!

On behalf of the character of O'Connor: I didn't like him too much in the beginning, but he grew on me during the end. I've tried to figure out why that is the case, and I think, he was a bit "too perfect" in the beginning. For the largest part of the story, there was no sign of a flaw, no sign of a weakness in him. And since I personally *do* have flaws and weaknesses, this was a character I could not relate to. But, the minute he broke into T'Pol's quarters to steal secret stuff for the greater good was the minute I started liking him.

wow. dont belittle ur self- this stories great. im glad i know that theres a squel. On o'conner, i liked him because he seemed like a human vulcan but in the end he was still human. I hope he shows up in ur squel too. great work and write more more and more
Lots o Love
The VulcanElf

You were only 17 when you wrote this?! I'm impressed. You wrote this with a very high level of maturity, and I'm looking forward to reading the sequel. I read this because I read some of your shorter stories and really enjoyed your writing style. I hope you keep writing.

Enjoyed your story very much. I liked the plotting, characterization, and pacing of the story. It is quite good. However, there was one little detail in Ensign O'Connor's explanation to T'Pol which felt like nails on a blackboard. Sorry, but it is simply how my mind works that it picks up these details in root-cause analysis. If Starfleet advanced engineering students have been studying the schematics that O'Connor used for years, why didn't Enterprise already have the systems and capabilities already installed?