The Ring of Truth

FIX the FINALE CHALLENGE

The Ring of Truth

By Evalyn A.

Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: All Paramount’s, not mine, though they don’t deserve it.

A/N: It is assumed that although the overall historical events of TATV did happen, the moment-by-moment details of the events, as well as the personal interactions, would not have been part of the historical record. Therefore, the Enterprise-D holodeck recreation was a dramatization, fabricated as needed to make a better story. And hopefully, I have made an even better story than the one they came up with.

********

Chapter One

T’Pol paused on the deck outside her mother’s house, inherited by her nearly seven years ago on her mother’s death. The house remained in pristine condition, maintained by a gentle couple that had long been her mother’s neighbours and friends.

So much had changed since then, and yet her mother’s house remained an oasis of calm, unchanged. She unlocked the door and entered. The furniture remained positioned just as it had been, and one of the neighbours, T’Rel she suspected, had placed some fresh fruit and vegetables in a bowl on the table, just as her mother would have. It was as though T’Les had just stepped out to the garden, or the shop, planning to return to greet her daughter after her long absence.

This was her first real return to her family home since … she mentally shied away from reliving that time, the visit in which she had first truly accepted to herself her feelings for Commander Tucker, when she had begun to suspect the depth of his feelings, and when she had married her long-time betrothed Koss, not long before her mother’s death in the conflict now termed by the humans the Vulcan Civil War. T’Pol felt her emotions rising to the surface; she distracted herself by going to her bedroom and unpacking her travel bag. She then wandered to the kitchen and found a selection of food in the stasis unit. She pulled out some kelthar beans, sliced up tavro root, and prepared to place them in the cooking unit to stew. Dissatisfied with the results, she decided to explore further – had her mother’s herb garden survived the years?

Opening the back door, she contemplated the serenity of the small, partly shaded garden area in the failing evening light. A light warm breeze had begun to blow, alleviating some of the day’s unforgiving heat. Flowering pan’tolt herbs straggled across the top of a small planter, while a number of other flavourful succulents snuggled underneath. The neighbours had not neglected this area either. She selected a sample of ingredients that she had not tasted fresh in many years, and turned to re-enter the house.

At that moment, the long shadow of a figure cast across her feet. Startled, she turned, and then calmed herself, acknowledging with a nod the individual waiting across the yard at the garden entrance.

“It is good to see you again, Koss.”

“And you, T’Pol.”

“You knew I would be here,” she inferred.

“T’Rel informed me that you would be returning for a visit, although she did not know exactly when you would arrive. I stopped by on my evening walk to welcome you.”

“It is kind of you.” Particularly, she thought, given their decidedly uneasy relationship over the years – first, her postponement of their marriage, then marrying and divorcing within the space of a few months.

“I have always enjoyed your company, T’Pol,” he replied, adding with a dry look, “Even when the feeling was not mutual.” She glanced away, unsure of how to reply, and deciding on candour, looked at him earnestly.

“It was not you, Koss. You should know that.”

He nodded. “I know.” He paused, and with a touch of wistfulness, he reiterated her words, changing their meaning. “It was not I. That much was obvious.” After an awkward pause, he continued briskly, “But that was many years ago. I simply wished to ask if you could make the time to tell me, and perhaps a few others, of some of your recent adventures before you depart again.”

She considered him in surprise. They had never known each other well, and this was a side of him she had not suspected. “It would be my pleasure,” she replied candidly. “There are still few Vulcans who show an interest in other worlds, even now that it is clear that our future must be tied to the Federation.”

“We are a people with a long oral tradition, T’Pol,” Koss replied. “It is a facet of our culture that is often overlooked in this age. I believe that all the members of our community would benefit from hearing the stories you have to tell. And now I will leave you be, you must be tired from your journey. I will expect your call when you are ready.”

She inclined her head, and watched him depart. She rolled the fragrant pan-tolt flowers between her fingers, inhaling their scent, and then returned indoors to continue her meal preparation, mildly perplexed by the encounter.

********

It was three weeks into her visit, and as she walked with Koss on the path that ran beside the local shrine, she realized with some surprise that she had spent seven of the last 14 days in his company. He was, to her surprise, a witty, inquisitive, gentle companion, surprisingly welcome in this visit in which she had expected largely solitude and introspection.

“I am glad to see your sister’s family so well,” she commented. “Her children are quite extraordinary.” It was true, Koss’ sister T’Zahan had two children, one ten and one seven Earth years of age, with extraordinary disciplined and talented minds. The youngest, a girl, was just the age Elizabeth would have been … she pulled her thoughts back to listen to Koss.

“They are most satisfactory,” Koss agreed. “I would hope to have such a successful marriage.” A long silence fell while she considered his statement uneasily. He remained unwed seven years after he had terminated their marriage.

Impulsively, T’Pol decided to breach protocol. “You remain unwed. Are you betrothed?”

He contemplated her with a look, which to the expert Vulcan eye trained in the smallest nuances of expression, contained a carefully cultivated combination of exasperation and amusement. “Why should that information be of interest to you?”

She tipped her head at the implied rebuke, but persisted. “Given that you released me from our marriage, I feel a certain responsibility for your welfare. I am well aware that you took that decision because of my shortcomings as a wife. I am also aware that you were considering my … feelings … at the time as much as your own.”

Koss shook his head dismissively, but avoided her gaze. “That was years ago. It is of no consequence now.”

“It is of consequence if it has somehow affected your desire to wed another. It cannot be long before the decision will be made for you …” she left the reference to his first pon farr, which was surely overdue, and the possible consequences to him if he was unbonded at the time, discreetly vague.

“It is true that I must find a mate in the near future. Nevertheless, this is an issue that I must deal with, and nothing for which you need feel responsible.”

She viewed him gravely. “But I am responsible. Whether or not my responsibility implies the need for compensation is an entirely different issue.” She paused, and suddenly, felt compelled to continue. “I too am unbonded. Surely, under the circumstances, we could reach some sort of mutually beneficial arrangement.”

Koss looked at her, clearly both startled and sceptical to the trained Vulcan eye. Before he could speak further, she continued.

“I know we are not, nor likely never will be, katra’katelau, Koss.” T’Pol paused briefly, suppressing the inner ache for the soulmate that Koss was not. “Nevertheless, I have found over the last weeks that we have a mutual respect that would contribute greatly to a rewarding relationship.”

“I do not believe that you have thought this through, T’Pol,” Koss remonstrated gently. “This is a lifetime commitment of which you speak. The last time we were to be wed, you were not available to live with me for the customary year – and you are once again scheduled to depart on an Earth vessel in a few weeks. Would this time be any different?”

T’Pol had to admit the logic of his statement. Nevertheless, she felt a very real obligation to this man, who had saved her life and released her from their marriage seven years ago, with no clear benefit accruing to him as a result. She gazed at him unblinkingly, and then stated formally in the ancient manner, “Koss, would you do me the honour of renewing our koon’ul?”

Strict Vulcan rules of etiquette prevailed in this situation, despite their unusual relationship. Renewal of betrothal was a ritual that frequently occurred when two individuals had been betrothed at a young age, and wished to reaffirm their vows prior to marriage. At a minimum, a formal declaration of renewal was incumbent upon him upon her request, and the most polite option was in fact to set a date for the exchanging of their marriage vows. If he denied her, she had recourse to a number of options, including, should she choose, the kali’fi.

“You do not make this easy, T’Pol.”

“That has never been the nature of our relationship, Koss,” she acknowledged. “I do not expect that to change. But the respect I feel for you is strong, and marriages have been founded on much less.”

A slight frown furrowed his brow, and he turned away to contemplate the horizon. She stood quietly, motionlessly, allowing him the time he needed to consider her offer.

She closed her eyes, and listened to the rustle of the dry breeze through the desert grasses, and the chirp of the six-winged iridescent hoppers that flew from rock to rock. Her soul felt a great peace in this place of her youth, so different from the turmoil she experienced every day she spent surrounded by humans, and she allowed her mind to drift.

After a time – perhaps five minutes, or ten – he turned back to her. “I feel my judgement in this situation is not, perhaps, as sound as it should be,” Koss began. “But despite the fact that our marriage was most surely not a success the last time, I feel the desire to try again. I also feel that I will likely regret this decision.”

Her heart tightened, and for a moment, she wondered, how could she consider this union, when her soul remained committed to another, three months dead? But reason overcame her weakness, and she asserted, “I will do all in my power to ensure that you will not have reason to regret our union, Koss.”

He examined her, critically and expressionlessly. “Very well. I propose our union to proceed six t’veda from today.”

She nodded, her heart racing at his acquiescence. Six days, one week. Not long to prepare.

“However, as part of the ceremony, I wish to become your telsu.”

She started visibly at this request. Until recently, the art of forming the true marriage bond, one that united both body and mind of the two betrothed, had been lost. However the recovery of the Kir’Shara, Surak’s teachings, had brought many ancient customs back into use. It was perhaps somewhat ironic that Koss had been instrumental in saving her, helping to return the Kir’Shara to the Vulcan people, and that as a result he could ask for the telan with her – the telan that she had once before achieved, all unknowing, with Commander Tucker.

T’Pol contemplated him gravely, for a long moment, and then bent her head in acquiescence. “I agree.”

He managed to disguise his reaction well. She could not tell if he was pleased, relieved, or surprised by her response. He continued, “I will make the arrangements and will keep you informed. I believe there will be no difficulty. You will need to arrange for someone to act as your ko-mekh.”

She nodded. The role played by the elder Vulcan female, giving away the daughter, could not be filled this time by her mother. She had an elderly fore-mother’s sister that could probably be convinced to assist. Otherwise, it was not unknown to ask one of the reldai to fill in. And she would need some clothing other than her dress uniform. Otherwise, she would need little preparation. After all, she had wed Koss once before, and could be considered experienced.

*******

The elderly priest droned on in ancient Vulcan of the meaning of their union. Her second fore-mother’s sister was nodding in her chair, clearly unimpressed by the solemnity of the occasion. Koss’ parents were both standing off to one side, their expressions clearly indicating how sceptical they were of the whole endeavour. Suddenly, T’Pol became aware that the priest had paused, and that something of importance was about to ensue.

“It is now time to make the telan. As it was in the time of Surak, and will ever be, we unite these two people, in mind, in body, and in soul. Step forward, my children.”

She forced her feet to move forward, and her hand to take that of her husband-to-be.

The priest turned them to face one another. As they had been instructed, T’Pol and Koss each placed their right hands on the locations spanning the temple to the jaw of their betrothed. The priest, meanwhile, placed his two hands on top of their heads, and intoned, “Kal-tor nash-kal’i’farr nam-tor veh t’kashkau eh katra.” She felt an odd pressure, as the priest worked to open the pathways of the mind to permit the bond to be formed between them. She felt her mind begin to open, her soul to expand, and she sensed the presence of the priest and of Koss as the bond began to knit.

Then, suddenly, there was a jabbing pain in her head, and in her heart. T’Pol gasped as though pierced by red-hot metal, her hand clutching to her searing chest. She sank to her knees, the golden robe that she wore grinding into the sand beneath her.

The priest’s hands withdrew from them both as though stung. He stared with poorly disguised alarm at her, grasping his palms together to still their shaking. He turned to the reldai that was assisting at the ceremony, and the two conferred in frantic whispers. Koss turned to her, his expression concerned and worried as he sensed her pain.

“T’Pol,” he murmured urgently. “Are you unwell? What has happened?”

She shook her head, numbly, as the pain continued washing over her in gradually decreasing waves. “I do not know … I do not know,” she repeated, unable yet to formulate coherent thought.

After completing his hurried conference, the priest turned back to them. “I cannot continue the ceremony as asked,” he explained, looking as shocked and irritated as a normally expressionless priest could permit himself.

“Why not? Explain,” Koss demanded, his emotions clearly close to the surface. “Why is T’Pol injured?”

“The ceremony cannot continue because T’sai T’Pol cannot be telik.”

Cannot be bonded? T’Pol shook her head, trying to regain her composure as the pain subsided. “I do not understand. I am not incapable of bonding,” she asserted. That was surely true, for she had been bonded once before.

“I should have been clearer. You cannot undergo the telan with S’haile Koss when you are already telik to another.” He stared at her severely, clearly expecting an explanation.

She stared at the priest, momentarily speechless. “That is impossible,” she managed after a moment. “How could I be?” She turned to Koss, and continued, “I do not understand. There is no other.”

The priest continued to regard her seriously. “If you know you are capable of bonding, you must have a reason. Have you bonded before?”

She gazed at him, and steeled herself for the conversation that was about to ensue. “Yes, I have. It was – not deliberate. And he … my bondmate,” my k'hat'n'dlawa, she voiced to herself, “—is dead.”

The priest shook his head, sceptically. “You are bonded, T’sai T’Pol,” he reiterated, “and while much knowledge has been lost, the Kir’shara is clear: such bonds do not survive death. Further, with the strength of the bond I felt in you, I believe that if your husband were dead, so would you be,” he explained gently, as if to a child, as she shook her head disbelievingly. “Your husband is not dead.”

He is not dead. The words, inconceivable as they were, had the ring of truth. They expressed that sense she had felt for the previous months, that if he had died, she would have felt it, her heart at war with her head. And yet surely, it was impossible. He was dead. She shook her head.

The priest turned to Koss, and continued, “I regret, this ceremony cannot continue. Please give my best regards to your second fore-mother when you next see her.” He bowed to all the gathered relatives, who watched with disbelief as he turned to depart the ceremonial grounds with the assisting priestess.

T’Pol pulled herself up off the ground and, after a brief, apologetic glance at Koss, hurried after him. “Honoured one,” she implored, “Please, I must speak further with you.” She drew him aside, away from the on-lookers. “There must be some mistake. My sa-telsu was not of our people. Perhaps that is why the bond did not end when he died.”

The priest shook his head, disbelievingly, reluctantly. “You could form the telun with an off-worlder? This is most strange.” He turned again to the priestess accompanying him. Unlike the priest, she contemplated T’Pol with a clinically interested expression.

“How long ago did he die, young one?” she asked, gently.

“Three months only, honoured one,” she replied. “But I have not felt the bond for six years.”

The priestess motioned her into the small temple that adjoined the area. T’Pol followed her, the priest trailing behind, his body language clearly indicating disapproval.

The reldai motioned her to sit in a small, stone chair, in an office at the back of the temple, and pulled another up opposite her. After seating herself, she reached out again to place her right hand on T’Pol’s face in the same pressure points the priest had used. After some moments, she withdrew her hand, and considered T’Pol.

“I grieve with thee,” she stated. “Your belief that he is dead is real. The bond may have been dormant, child, but it is strong. Too strong to be severed without serious damage to your mind. I do not see how, if he were truly dead, the bond could persist. Perhaps you are right, perhaps his human nature, or the fact that the bond was not active, meant that his death did not touch the bond. We have no experience with such things,” she admitted. “A priest of the time of Surak would have had the skills. But we only begin to learn them again.”

“So there is nothing you can do?” T’Pol queried, simultaneously afraid and oddly relieved by the priestess’ words.

“Nothing,” the reldai replied. “Perhaps it is just too soon, perhaps the bond will disappear by itself.” She stood, the interview clearly over. “You have my best wishes, young one.”

T’Pol stood, and bowed her head in respect, replying, “My thanks for your assistance.”

She turned to depart, but as she reached the door of the temple, the priestess called after her. “T’sai T’Pol.” She turned.

“You must see if he lives, young one. Until you know, we can do nothing. Find if he lives.”

T’Pol stared at the priestess, and then nodded, stiffly, before returning to the ceremonial grounds. The on-lookers had all discreetly departed, except for her second fore-mother’s sister, who continued to doze in her chair. Koss stood where she had left him, awaiting her return.

She approached him, unsure where to begin. “They do not know. Perhaps the bond survived because he was human. Perhaps it will fade with time.” She looked into his eyes, and said with full sincerity, “Koss, I do not begin to know how to offer recompense. Had I had any idea …” she paused, at a loss for words.

He tilted his head, and a small, sad smile crossed his lips. “I understand, T’Pol. I gave you up once before, because I could feel your attachment to your life on Enterprise, and that you could not belong on Vulcan. I did not know of him, but I could tell … there was something.” He turned away from her, and placed his hands within the sleeves of his ceremonial robe. “I envy you.”

Her heart ached for this man – decent, honourable, who had once again offered himself to her only to find himself rejected. She searched her soul for a solution, and steeled herself. “I would still marry you, Koss, without the telun. Our people have wed this way for hundreds of years.”

He turned back to her. “Your offer is honourable, T’Pol. But I could not be your husband knowing that your katra was not mine. I could not do it then, and I cannot do it now. And I know now that it is not what you want. You do not believe he is dead.”

She stared at him. “That is not true. I saw him buried.”

He shook his head. “Come back to me when your heart believes what your eyes saw. Good-bye, T’Pol.” He touched her cheek briefly, his eyes expressing what his words could not. She watched mutely as he walked slowly, finally disappearing beyond the temple.

Part 2

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A whole mess of folks have made comments

Wow. What a stunning, heart-wrenching beginning. Your characters are always so beautifuly alive to the reader, and you've done it once again.

Very much so looking forward to more!

This is riveting. I wouldn't have thought it possible for me to feel such pity for Koss. Your descriptions make me see Vulcan and T'Les' home in my head. And what a cliffhanger! She saw him buried but they're still bonded so firmly that she'll die when he does? (Can't say I like that idea since she could survive him by 100 years... please tell me you'll find some way to fix that!) Anyway, I'm on pins and needles waiting to see how you'll resolve this. A marvelous job!

Fantastic - love your setting descriptions and excellent characterizations - Koss is so likable and T'Pol's intent to 'move on' with him plays out well (altho the initial disgust - it's only been 3 months!! - was strong indeed) - typical pragmatic Vulcan.

p.s. glad the priests didn't freak on her when her non-Vulcan adun was revealed

The characters were believable and likeable. The plot interesting twist to the finale. I would like to see how you continue with this story.

Wow... just ... wow. I love it. Heart-wrenching. Go on, please!

Fascinating. This is an exceptional beginning. I definitely feel sympathy for Koss, and the 3 month thing didn't bother me. T'Pol is Vulcan after all. ;)

Update soon!

I was reluctant to read this, at first, thinking it was another "fix the finale" story, but I relented and did. I am glad that I did because it is obviously not just another one of those stories. I like where you're going with this and am looking foward to an update.

Some one still isnt followin her heart.,,, Tsk, tsk, tsk,,,, Poor T'pol goin through all this,,, God i hope Trips alive, for her sake,, I get the feelin she's gona get her hope's up, an dealin with Trips lose again would surely make recovery close to impossible from MPOV,,,,,,,, Ok Im a lil ticked,,, Why did you have to go an turn Koss in to a decent Guy,,,,,,,, Sorry Iant ever gona beleive he isnt anything else but a Jerk, who uses others to get what he wants.,, Sorry I just dont like him an never will. I just wanted to jump in to the story when he showed up an kick him out of T'pols home, Yellin "let her grieve you wife stealer!!" although I think maybe T'pol was tryin to push a side her grief for Trip by using what she considered an opertunity,, thats why she hesitated when Koss insisted on a Bond be formed,, Her affections for Trip came roarin back awake at that moment an screamed "NO!!" ,,,, Other wise great story all in all. Cant wait for the next chapie,,,, Ill try an ignore that Guy that acts al nice but cant be the real Koss cause the Real Koss is a total Jerk.,,,, Sorry again bout my undyin Hate for Koss.

Great!!!!!!!! Love this story! Poor Koss - but I hope Trip is fine...
Please update as soon as you can :-)

wow, that was really like a regular episode!! the dialogue etc, please continue we need another chapter!!! bound to be a classic

Great story!! As much as I didn't like how the Beebs wrote 'Home" ie I didn't like the idea of another suitor, I didn't mind how the character was portrayed. And you've portrayed him in very much the same way; he comes across as an honourable man.

Love the way you stopped the wedding. I guess T'Pol and Koss are just not meant to be together.
I'm really interested in seeing how you bring Trip back, and I'm sure hoping you plan to do that!

Oh this is bloody marvelous and you please must continue swiftly for all concerned.... the least of which is T'Pol and Trip.

Love the Koss and T'Pol interactions so well done, so reall.

Tracy--who must have a better job done on the monitor when it is cleaned... so blurry.

Oh this is bloody marvelous and you please must continue swiftly for all concerned.... the least of which is T'Pol and Trip.

Love the Koss and T'Pol interactions so well done, so reall.

Tracy--who must have a better job done on the monitor when it is cleaned... so blurry.

Excellent beginning! Great characterizations (I really, really like your Koss, and the unseen neighbours and dozing sister of T'Pol's foremother are delightful - not at all stereotypical Vulcans), wonderful descriptions, and a really neat - and original - plot twist. I'm looking forward to the next chapter!

Wow, good stuff! I can't wait to see where you'll take this one (Maybe, just maybe, he's alive? Yes? Is it possible?)! :)

Really interesting beginning. I'm looking forward to reading more. Soon.

Well, since this site is called "Trip/T'Polers" and this is the "Fix the Finale Challenge", maybe just as you've insinuated, Trip is *not* dead? Because, after all, the finale has not been fixed if Trip didn't survive, right? Please? I really hope so! I love how it's going so far--and I can't even begin to see where you're going with this. Very exciting. Though not much action/adventure (which is perfectly fine), you still had me from the very first line. Perfect! And the Vulcan words and phrases you threw in were marvelous!

Please continue soon!

Em

What a wonderful start. Your characterization is brilliant. I look forward to the continuation. I'm hoping that Trip isn't really dead, but it is possible that she just hasn't let him go in her heart. Gotta root for Trip though. Can't help myself. ;)