Moonrise

Moonrise

By: Ludjin

Email: begoniagrasshopper@hotmail.com
Rating: R
Genre: Fluff, Romance, Future Fic
Disclaimer: “Enterprise” and characters © Paramount. I just play.
Spoilers: All episodes, I suppose. TATV ignored.
Archive: Trip/T’Polers
Summary: While docked at Earth for upgrades, Trip and T’Pol take shore leave at Trip’s grandfather’s farm. T’Pol thinks and reflects one night, while there.

Author's notes: This isn’t fluff – it’s thick, tooth-sticking fudge. ;) “Moonrise” was mostly written in early June, as kind of a cathartic recovery from TATV and all the MU evilness I’ve got going on in another fic. I’m a complete, romantic sap, so this balanced me out. Also gave me insulin shock, but, eh.

Thank you to Ligeia, T’Leela, and HopefulRomantic for their rockin’ beta skills!

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July 4, 2156

“A summer night took all of a person’s cares away.”

The evening was thick and warm, blanketed with a humidity that was apparently typical for all of the area. Insects – T’Pol picked out Gryllus pennsylvanicus and those, perhaps, of the Tibicen family – sang a low song, and two broad-limbed trees framed her vision, their long branches black in the dim starlight, their foliage a dark blue-green.

All of a person’s cares …

Trip had once asserted that, a wistful grin on his face as he had huddled, wet and shivering, next to her during an away mission gone awry. Despite the lack of logic in Trip’s statement, she could understand the relaxing properties of a hammock and the warm, quiet darkness of a Florida night. Nestled beside her mate, their frigid experience on Careid VII seemed to feel long ago and far away.

Earth’s sun had dipped below the horizon an hour before, and the last vestiges of gold and pink and orange had long ago faded into the velvet blue – as had the sparks of the traditional aerial pyrotechnics, the logic of which she could only explain away as another example of humanity’s boundless enthusiasm. Clouds that the sunset had painted red had also disappeared, leaving the broad expanse of sky littered with stars. Tiny satellites and other craft – slow, silver sparks – orbited high overhead, the only visible proof of the present, in this place where she was seemingly surrounded by remnants of the past. She knew Enterprise was there, as well, safely in spacedock, undergoing routine tests and upgrades.

It was a testament to the stress of the last two years – and, perhaps, to his slowly changing priorities – that Trip hadn’t fought the Captain quite so hard to stay aboard and oversee the work crews as was typical of him; instead, he had voiced some perfunctory objections before making plans. Then, with his usual exuberance, he had invited her to a long-established family celebration.

The Tucker family gathering and their annual Fourth of July picnic had been illuminating as well as exhausting, to say the least.

Trip’s living family consisted (in part) of his parents, a brother, a sister, five nephews, eight cousins, thirteen second cousins, two uncles, three aunts, his father’s parents, three great-uncles, and one wise great-aunt, with whom T’Pol had had a lengthy and interesting conversation. The traditional meal had been a sort of organized chaos, from which she was only now recovering. The young nephews had even incited a “food fight” – as Trip had called it – between most of the children, which had left them covered in mashed potatoes and pasta salad. The five nephews, hardly recalcitrant with their guilty grins, bright blue eyes, and singular noses, had been … cute.

Cute? Vulcans did not think in terms that included ‘cute’. Yet … there was no other method to describe their beaming faces. Matthew, the youngest of the group, had even placed a green pea on the tip of his potato-covered nose. The waste of food notwithstanding, the adults had admonished the youths and laughed – almost hysterically so – at the same time.

If anything, this visit to Earth and to her mate’s family was an education in humanity’s less sophisticated forms of humor.

Trip felt her flicker of bemusement, and he shifted next to her, setting the hammock into a gentle sway. His hand moved from her abdomen to brush her cheek, and the undercurrent of his contentedness thrummed through her, amplified by his gentle touch.

No, this visit was of far more import for far more reasons.

“Penny for your thoughts,” he murmured.

She turned slightly, arching one eyebrow. He chuckled and bent to kiss her lips, forestalling her next words. “You know what I mean,” he said, breaking away. He nuzzled her playfully with his nose, and she allowed her own contentment to flow through their bond.

T’Pol took her time responding, allowing her gaze to drift skyward again. The moon had yet to rise, and the farm was slowly settling down from the events of the day. The hammock they curled within was fairly distant from the old farmhouse, yet not so far that she couldn’t hear the low drone of conversation, punctuated occasionally by a child’s shriek of laughter.

There was great comfort to be had in family.

“Thank you for inviting me.”

She felt his silent laughter and then his stubbly chin as he pressed a kiss to her cheek. “You know you belong here.”

His hand still caressed her face. She lifted her own to twine her fingers through his. “I …was uncertain as to how I would be received.”

He didn’t respond; Earth’s xenophobia might have calmed to a low simmer in the year and months since Paxton’s actions, but it was still there, a soft grumble that authorities had a hard time picking out, let alone quelling.

Trip’s family, however, had displayed no surprise when Trip had introduced her two days ago, and had enveloped her with a warmth she, in truth, had difficulty understanding. It encouraged her, and aided her hope that this relationship could and would work.

There were still obstacles … numerous obstacles. But, to this point, they had all been met and overcome. And although there were still many matters to be discussed, many issues and thoughts and misunderstandings, she wanted to strive to keep this relationship.

The sure knowledge that Trip also wanted this – desperately and completely – buoyed her and only strengthened her resolve.

The night sounds filled the silence between them. A breeze briefly stirred the trees, the leaves rippling gently. A low bark sounded in the distance, echoed by several other dogs. Nearby, a horse snorted, and a hoof stomped. Pony, she thought. An odd name for such a large equine – one of the draft breeds, she remembered, known as Percheron. The stout creature grazed the farm’s peach orchard, often joined by the neighbor’s goats and – so Trip asserted – by deer in the early, misty hours of morning.

She had never seen a deer; that particular species was one of many that had suffered great losses in the aftermath of humanity’s third world war. She absently recalled their scientific name: Odocoileus virginianus. Trip, however, assured her that they were plentiful in the area, along with coyotes, raccoons, and other assorted wildlife. The scientist within her was curious to observe such animals; her relatively short time on Earth, prior to her assignment to Enterprise, had been mostly bereft of flora or fauna studies. It had been enough of a challenge to simply study humanity.

She turned her head again, allowing herself to gaze fondly into her mate’s dark, sleepy eyes. He smiled in response, a wonderfully familiar smile – open, loving, beautiful. Reflexively, she moved her hand to trace his lips, slowly and carefully, re-memorizing the soft feel of them, the easy way they displayed his pleasure and displeasure.

She was happy – yes, in the security and privacy of her heart, happy – to know that she brought him the former, rather than the latter.

He permitted her explorations for a full minute before grasping her wrist and pulling it away, and then he leaned in to grant her a far more intimate study, one to which she eagerly acquiesced. His kiss was wet and hot and welcomed, and she brushed her fingertips across the top of his hand as his tongue dipped into her mouth.

The stir of desire in her belly – both hers and the exquisite echo of her mate’s – aided her as she quickly decided which form of tactile study she preferred, particularly in this case.

Too soon, he broke away, his eyes opening, his dark gaze glittering. She took pride in knowing that he looked only at her in such a manner, and only she built such passion within him.

He again leaned in, this time to press his lips against her neck. She tilted her head and shuddered slightly beneath his light nips and gentle suckles; then she closed her eyes to the starlit sky and allowed part of herself become lost to his slow ministrations.

It was not often that they were allowed such languorous moments. With the interplanetary coalition growing in fits and starts, and opposition rippling from expected and unexpected sources, Enterprise and its crew had been greatly taxed – and occasionally pummeled. Enterprise was a target: a diplomatic ferry and meeting ground, a symbol of hope and promise for Earth and the coalition. Outside forces had seen it as an instigator for drastic change in the sector, and they were correct.

Her species’ perception of humans was slowly changing, and Ambassador Soval had even approved of her position in history alongside her crewmates; he’d told her, in private, that he considered humanity to have come “of age”. It had been a patronizing remark – but, then, her species was notably slow to change.

Surely Vulcan could learn as much from Earth as Earth from Vulcan.

She shuddered again as Trip’s lips found her pulse-point, pulling her back from her thoughts. He responded with even more fervor, pulling his hand from hers to explore the curves and planes of her neck and torso. His hand slipped under the blanket that covered their legs, and he traced her hip, her thigh, and then moved back up to edge beneath her shirt, the rough pads of his fingertips moving lightly over her belly, pausing at and circling her navel, then to the curves of her ribs and over her heart, then to the tingling flesh just below her breasts.

In many ways, he knew her body better than she knew it herself – just as she knew his body, intimately and thoroughly.

He nipped at her ear and she gasped involuntarily. Unrelenting, his tongue flicked at the tip, then followed the curve of the shell. Her body responded quickly, her nipples hardening and her hips twitching of their own accord.

She reached to touch his face, covered his lips with her fingers, and he paused, drawing back slightly and blinking.

“Perhaps we should move …elsewhere,” she murmured.

He chuckled, cleared his throat. “Yeah. Probably should.”

He glanced ruefully around at the hammock before pulling off the blanket and tossing it to the ground. Then, with practiced ease, he sat up. The hammock swayed unsteadily, but he was already swinging himself out of it and catching it with a hand, reaching with his other to help her out. She copied him with mixed success; the balance one required getting out of the human contraption was apparently a learned trait.

“Whoa, there, hon,” he said, catching her as she stumbled – and taking the opportunity to draw her close, arms wrapping firmly around her.

“Hammocks are …” she began, then trailed off.

“Illogical?” he laughed, and she lifted a brow.

“Of questionable safety,” she finished.

“Maybe just to Vulcans.” He laughed again as she half-heartedly tried to pull away from him. His grip tightened around her and he kissed her forehead. “Hey, I’m just teasin’.”

“Your level of humor has unfortunately remained the same, despite my influence.”

“And what’s that supposed to mea—“

She cut him off with a kiss. He grunted in protest, but she simply pressed herself into him, her hips against his, her tongue sliding across his lower lip, then into his mouth. Any other protest he might have made quickly died, and groaning, he cupped her face with his hands, threading his fingers through her hair.

She slipped her hands beneath his shirt, trailing her fingers up his sides, then tracing the muscular lines of his stomach down to the waistband of his slacks. She felt his muscles tighten, his breath catch. His skin was cool, and she knew he enjoyed the heat of her touch.

As much as he could drive all thought from her mind, she could also render him delirious. It was strangely pleasing, that ability.

She could feel his desire building, becoming white-hot, and excitement spun in her belly. After a long moment, though, he broke from her and stepped back, his breath as ragged as hers.

“Whoa, hon,” he murmured. She knew he spoke more to himself than to her. He took her hand, his thumb swiping gently over her knuckles. He smiled once more, his other hand tracing the line of her face. She leaned into his caress. He shook his head. “This is always …”

He didn’t finish, but he didn’t have to. Neither could she have been prepared for the intensity of the bond when it had formed – nor as it continued to strengthen.

It was a remnant of the passionate Vulcan past – yet, perhaps a remnant that should remain, despite the tenants of logic. If the simple bond of blood that the Tucker family shared gave an example of intense affection and the loyalty spilling from that, then surely there was a unique logic to this pathos.

Yet to experience it, to share in the passion … it was overwhelming. And consuming.

Trip glanced toward the house, and she followed his gaze. Tree trunks broke the distant glow of light into strips, and the majority of the family members relaxed and conversed on an open deck. She noted that several adults seemed to be in the process of putting the children to bed – or attempting to. The children’s cries of protest were quite loud.

She felt his amusement. “It’ll be pretty chaotic up there for a while,” he said, turning to look once more at her. A shy smile touched his lips. “Want to go for a walk?”

“Yes,” she replied simply.

His smile spread into a grin, and he stooped for a moment, scooping the coverlet off the ground and tossing it over his shoulder. As he straightened, he didn’t hesitate on taking her hand, and then he began leading her, turning them away from the bright, golden spark of that tiny sliver of civilization and into the dark, sheltering warmth of the night.

They walked in silence toward the orchard fence. T’Pol enjoyed the warmth of his hand pressed against hers; such small, intimate, and inexplicably human acts were a rarity between them, and desire still hummed through her.

Trip knew the farm well, and despite the darkness, he led her to and through the orchard gate, pausing only to close it behind them with a quiet click. He hesitated a moment longer, simply gazing down at her.

Looking up at him, she noted the stars seemed to crown his head. Fanciful imagery, and highly illogical, but she had come to appreciate humanity’s whimsical side – especially as her mate seemed steeped in it.

He pressed his lips to her forehead, and she breathed in his scent. He smelled of soap, wood smoke, and his family. She recognized her own scent, which had become an indelible part of him in the past year – much to her possessive side’s pleasure. Beneath it all, he smelled uniquely of himself, a scent she had committed to memory five years ago, before ever considering him more than another human, or another colleague.

Much had changed.

He turned and started off down a seemingly random row between the trees, and she followed, her hand still clasped securely in his. It was almost oppressively dark, and she was grateful that the old peach trees were not tall. Their low, twisted boughs allowed the starlit sky to spread over them, and she noted how bright the Milky Way – as the humans called it – shone, as compared to the night sky in any human city.

“There’s the Big Dipper,” Trip said, breaking the silence. “One more set of stars we haven’t gotten to yet. I remember their names, though. Alkaid, Alcor and Mizar, and Alioth. And there’s Megrez, Phecda, Dubhe, and ... ah. Can’t remember the last one.”

“Merak,” she supplied.

He snapped the fingers of his free hand. “Yeah, that’s it. Well, I remembered most of ‘em.”

“There is a Vulcan scientific station in the Alioth system, and the Mizar system is composed of two binary stars – an interesting area of space, and home of the Mizarians, a largely pacifist species.”

He chuckled. “Really? Learn somethin’ new every day.”

“That is advisable.”

“With you around, it’s impossible not to. But I’m not complainin’.” He squeezed her hand gently. She was suddenly tempted to smile. “It’s kind of weird, though,” he continued. “We live and work out in deep space, but I still love lookin’ up at the stars when I’m on a planet. Always did that as a kid, and I guess I always will.”

They were quiet for a moment, T’Pol’s focus remaining on the stars above. Despite the humidity, the night was clear and sharp. “Vulcan nights are not as clear,” she commented.

She felt his puzzlement through the bond. “Vulcan’s a desert world. Earth deserts always seem to have the clearest nights.”

“Vulcan is a desert world with strong, almost constant winds. The amount of dust in the stratosphere obscures many of the stars.”

“Well, I remember you havin’ amazing sunsets,” he replied, humor in his voice.

She arched an eyebrow. “True enough.”

Another pause, longer this time. “Maybe we should go to Vulcan.” The humor had left, replaced with a softness that caused a strange pang to her heart.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noted the yellow gleam that signified the moon’s slow progress from the eastern horizon. Tree limbs shattered the bright light into tiny, flickering segments.

“If not this shore leave, then some other time,” he continued. “But sometime.”

She had not been to her homeworld since the aftermath of her mother’s death and the Second Reformation. Her final day there had been spent packing away many of the items in her family’s house and preparing the domicile for a long period of inattention. It had been a lonely and painful experience, but she knew the pain did not need to linger. The household was hers to manage, now, and it was perhaps time to revisit it. What was more, she would not be alone. Under the more basic laws of Vulcan society, the house was also Trip’s. He wasn’t aware of that, yet, but soon she would tell him.

“That would be … agreeable,” she finally said. Again, he lightly squeezed her fingers.

They had reached another gate, and through it they went, their hands still joined. The neat, widely spaced rows of peach trees fell away from them, and in their place, thick forest rose. They turned slightly, following a pale, sandy path, the rising moon shining only in fragments through the trees. Insect song thrummed steadily, and T’Pol noticed tiny, flickering yellow lights that blinked along the trail.

“Lightnin’ bugs,” Trip said, before she could ask. “Or fireflies. Used to catch a ton of ‘em in jars at night, back when I was a kid. Kept them in my room and watched them flash ‘til I fell asleep. I never found out what they ate, so I always let ‘em go in the morning.” He gave a short laugh. “I couldn’t seem to stop catchin’ them, though. My brother and I always had a race to see who could catch the most in the shortest amount of time. Lizzie would always hit us, ‘cause she wanted them to be free.”

He halted, and she with him, watching him as he stared through the dark forest with its tall, spire-like trees and small flashes of golden light.

“I miss Lizzie, still. Bein’ back with the family – it’s hard on all of us, I think. It’s not so hard as it was, but I guess you never really do get over losing someone like that.” He paused, but she knew he wasn’t finished. “It gets easier to think about, little by little, every year.”

T’Pol heard a tiny spring splashing nearby and an amphibian declaring its territory – a Rana catesbeiana, she decided. Its call was low and sure.

He wasn’t thinking only of his sister, she knew, but also of her mother and of their daughter. There was another pang in her heart, but she remained silent.

Perhaps Trip felt her unease; when he spoke again, he sounded sheepish. “Sorry, T’Pol. I—“

She cut him off with a squeeze of his hand in hers. “Trip.” He glanced at her, one side of his face illuminated with shadowy yellow-grays. “It isn’t necessary to apologize.” The fleeting image of a girl-child with tiny Vulcan ears came to her. There had been a baby among the mass tangle of Tucker family – a little girl with blue eyes and a sweet smile.

Then, Lorian’s aged, careworn face … “I have thought of family today.”

Night sounds dominated the forest yet again after her quiet admittance, and the moon continued to rise, its color slowly changing from golden-yellow to silvery-white. Trip didn’t respond; he simply walked onward, his grip tightening on her hand. Despite the pensiveness she felt from him, she remained silent.

She had thought of family – her family, a family of her own making, and that of her mate’s. Phlox hadn’t pressed her on the subject of combining human and Vulcan DNA; likely, he was waiting for either herself or Trip – or better, both – to come to him with questions.

When they would do that, though, or even simply discuss such a matter, was something on which she could not even speculate.

The year after their daughter’s death had been difficult. Trip’s grief had been profound and, at times, overpowering. So too had been hers. Months had passed before either realized that together they could overcome it. Even then, their shared sorrow had been a struggle – but not the immovable obstacle it had been when they had grieved separately.

And with moving past that pain, she had also finally found peace with her mother’s death.

The path they walked was white in the pale light, and she could feel the sand giving way softly and hesitantly beneath her sandals. It curved slowly through the forest, meandering through pines and cedars. It was well-trodden, and she had yet to stumble. A fanciful thought came to her – that she would never stumble while Trip was at her side. She immediately dismissed it as illogical; to “stumble” was too vague a term to apply to life’s journey, and it was unnecessary to think of such things.

However, with her mate’s unabashed love flowing through their bond and their intimate touch, she knew it to be true.

She heard the sound of rushing water before Trip spoke again. “There’s a river ahead of us – one of the prettiest in Florida, in my opinion. You’d really love it in the daytime. The water’s dark, but clear and cool, and the bed is all sand – just sand – so it’s clean.” He paused, and she sensed his amusement – likely over her tendency toward fastidiousness. “It’s called Blackwater River,” he continued, “‘cause the water looks really dark next to the white sand.”

“You mentioned living near swamps, but this area of Florida does not seem to be anything like a swamp,” she commented.

“Yeah, Florida is pretty diverse for a state. Lived down by the Everglades for a few years when I was growing up, but we didn’t stay there long. My dad was goin’ to work for a reclamation project off the coast, there, but the project fell through at the last minute. So we moved back to Panama City … which was, y’know, pretty much razed after the Xindi attack.”

There wasn’t any bitterness in his voice – just a statement, a fact of what was.

She knew his parents hadn’t lived long in their Mississippi residence, and had chosen to move back to Florida after five months in Biloxi. Mrs. Tucker had requested that Trip and T’Pol visit the new home in Milton while they were still on shore leave; thus, tomorrow was their last day at the Tucker family’s old farm.

“I’m kinda glad they didn’t stay in Mississippi. They love Florida, and being near the ocean. And by groundcar, they’re only twenty minutes from Granddad and Grandma. I liked it around here better, too.” He paused. “And I love this river.”

The trees fell away from the path, and a narrow stretch of river spread before them, a dark ribbon curving quietly through the forest. Pale sands bordered both sides of the waterway, and a sand bar, upstream, gleamed white against the water. The moon was fully visible, hovering just above the far tree line. It bathed them in pale light as the river glittered and sparkled.

Trip let go of her hand and stepped away from her. She immediately felt bereft; the air was cool against her palm where his had been.

Kicking his sandals off and dropping the blanket to the sparse grass, he stepped onto the sand and then simply stood, digging his toes in deep. “Used to fish here a lot,” he said, staring out over the water. “Fishin’, canoein’, and swimmin’. Lots of memories, here – growin’ up, gettin’ in trouble. Granddad let us get away with just about anything, as long as we didn’t kill each other.”

He chuckled and scuffed at the sand with his bare toes, peppering the slowly moving water with a shower of grit. “But I loved to swim here. Always my favorite thing to do as a kid.”

She stepped to his side, feeling her sandals sink into the soft, fine sand. He gave her a lopsided grin. “Well, we skinny-dipped, usually. Unless there were girls around. Every summer I spent here, I always avoided them like the plague. ‘Cept for my sisters. But even their friends …”

He trailed off with a shake of his head and a rueful laugh. “Little boys grow up sometimes.”

She blinked, realizing she was completely unfamiliar with one of his terms. “’Skinny-dipped’?”

“Swimmin’ naked. Really fun, ‘specially at night.” He waggled his eyebrows at her. “Want to?”

T’Pol again blinked, then glanced at the water. In the dim light, it was completely opaque; only the surface gleamed. “I’d rather not.”

He chuckled, wrapping one arm around her waist, his hand fingering the hem of her shirt before slipping beneath it and lightly tracing the curve of her side. “You sure?”

“Most certainly.”

He turned toward her fully, his other hand reaching up to caress her cheek. She felt the palm of his hand slide gently up her side, over her ribs, then down again to her hip. “Somethin’ else, then?” She felt his sudden rush of desire, and her heart gave a startled thump.

He had practiced shielding the brunt of his emotions from her for many months, attuned to her need for repression; however, the passion that now hummed through their bond was as strong as ever before.

T’Pol welcomed it, despite its intensity and its effect on her.

“That would be acceptable,” she replied.

His response wasn’t what she expected. He simply stood, staring at her, a tender smile reaching to his eyes, filling them with warmth that the moon’s pale light couldn’t take away.

Two minutes passed, and she furrowed her brow in confusion. His desire was growing; she could feel it – a slowly rising blaze. Yet he continued to simply stand, silent and still. “Trip?”

He finally stirred, the hand still cupping her cheek moving to brush against her lips. “Just admirin’ you, darlin’. You’re beautiful.”

He had told her as much several times before, but tonight …

A rush of emotion – her own emotion, not Trip’s – caught her unawares. Before she could recover, his mouth was on hers, his hands drawing her body against his. Their tongues met, danced, mated. She gasped against his lips as his fingers found her ear, his other palm following the line of her back. He was insistent in his ministrations, adamant, and his blinding need thrummed through her.

Yet again, he was the first to break away – this time, to dip both his hands beneath her shirt, to run his fingers lightly over her waist, around to her back, then again to her front, inching down into the waistband of her slacks. Heat curled in her lower belly, powerful and unrelenting.

Without further thought, she tackled the obstacle between herself and her mate: his clothes. He consented willingly, and soon, they were bared to the night, their shirts and pants and underwear discarded and all else forgotten.

He was glorious in the moonlight, muscular and hard and perfectly formed. His eyes glittered as he looked at her, and the thrill of his inner emotions caught her breath. Tenderly, he took her in his arms and lowered her to the ground.

They made love in the shadowy darkness by the side of the river, their bed the soft, pale sands and their blanket the warm night. The song of insects and bullfrogs and the quiet chuckle of water became the tempo of their music, their cries a harmony to the song they wrote with their lips, their hands, their hips. Their bodies knew that ancient rhythm and rejoiced in it, and T’Pol trembled in its power.

She trusted in her mate, knew he would always support her – no matter what the challenge might be – and as her world spun out of control, and she shattered and cried out, he was there, holding her close, putting her back together, never letting go.

And then she felt him soaring higher, ever higher, and his feral shout rang loudly into the night, and he was falling, and she was there to catch him. She would always be there.

They remained tangled together long afterwards, and T’Pol felt her mate’s heart as it calmed and steadied. His hands never stilled, traveling lightly and slowly over her body in gentle, sure caresses, his mouth moving in sweet explorations. He lay half atop her, and she found comfort in his familiar weight, as she always did.

“Darlin’,” he murmured against her neck. His voice was low and still rough, carrying an intimate note she found oddly alluring. She turned and sought out his lips, one hand running through his gritty hair; sweat and sand never mixed well, although she was surely just as dirty.

T’hy’la, was her simple answer, and his powerful arms gathered her closer.

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Later, they sat naked together on the sand. She nestled close against his chest, and he drew lazy circles on her knee and thigh. The once forgotten blanket was draped around them both. Glancing back and up at him, she noted his gaze was fixed on the moon’s broad face.

Suddenly, impulsively, she decided to break the silence.

“You are thinking about your family.”

He dropped his gaze to meet hers, a smile flickering across his face. “Yeah, I am.” He paused. “Well, sorta.”

T’Pol found his hand beneath the folds of the blanket and grasped it with her own. “Your family,” she repeated.

He frowned slightly, his expression darkening. “T’Pol… I – I don’t know exactly what you…”

What you want.

The unspoken end of his confession tore at her. Once again, they lingered on the side of non-communication. For all that they were mentally linked, they still had problems truly communicating – a barrier that caused her pain, yet only strengthened her resolve to overcome it.

“Trip,” she said. He had dropped his gaze onto her shoulder, but looked up again at his name. “I, too, wish for a family.”

Relief and joy rushed through their bond, nearly blinding her with their intensity, and she felt her fingers being squeezed to the point of pain. “We hadn’t talked much about it after… after Elizabeth, so I wasn’t sure.”

Still reeling from the heady rush of his emotions, she turned to look up at the moon. It gleamed silver, and shadowy marks pocked and scarred the satellite’s pale face. The ugly scour that Paxton had made was not visible, hidden for the moment by the Earth’s shadow. “Children had always been a distant, but assured, fact of my life. I had simply assumed that I would be a wife to a Vulcan husband and a mother to Vulcan children.”

Trip shifted slightly behind her, rested his forehead against her shoulder. She felt his pang of guilt and quickly added, “I do not regret the path my life has taken.” He lifted his head, and she turned to meet his gaze. “And I would have it no other way.”

His smile was bright in the silvery light, and he kissed her again, sweetly, softly. “Good. And me, neither.”

“Good,” she echoed, allowing amusement to color her voice.

He chuckled in response and hugged her closer. “I guess I’ve started thinkin’ about it because of that promotion offer. Hell, still just thinkin’ about that, too.” He sighed. “I don’t want to leave Enterprise, though, even for the NX-03 and the Complex. It’s where I belong, I think, and for more than just the engine.” She felt him trace the line of her neck with his nose. “But someday …”

“Someday, we will have a family, Trip. Until then, it would not be logical to forestall the advancement of your career by not taking the position …” – he lifted a brow at her – “… even if I would rather you remain on Enterprise.”

He smiled ruefully at her. “T’Pol, you know as well as I do that that promotion might look good on paper, but it’s not where I’m supposed to be. Enterprise needs me. The Cap’n needs me.” He squeezed her hand. “You need me.”

“Yes.” She would never deny it, although it had taken her far too long to admit it. “However, you must still consider all the options.”

He was quiet a moment as he simply looked at her, his gaze deep and contemplative. The moon’s light only allowed for a shadow of the familiar blue in his eyes to shine, and in the pale night, they appeared chipped with gray. “I have,” he finally said, his baritone soft and thoughtful. “And you know the answer.”

She reached up to stroke his cheek, and then he brought his mouth down to meet hers. She explored his mouth thoroughly for a moment – and when they parted, she allowed the barest of smiles to move from her eyes to her lips. “The Captain will be pleased.”

“His first officer is pretty pleased, too.”

“Indeed.”

He chuckled as he looked back to the moon. “I guess seein’ all the kids today, all my nephews and the cousins … Well, I’m not gettin’ any younger, and even though any kid of ours could probably throw me around like a rag doll, I want to take an active part in their life, like my dad did for me.”

He sighed. “I know it’s not really the time to think about it, because there’s a lot to be done just for Starfleet, Earth, and the coalition, but at some point, I want to think about us. About a family.”

A family. She kept her eyes on his face. “Perhaps, when we return to Enterprise, we should discuss our options with Doctor Phlox, and begin … planning.”

Emotion washed over her – relief, gratitude, delight. A slow smile appeared as he turned his gaze on her. “I’d like that.” She noticed tears gathering in his eyes, though he rapidly blinked them away.

“And, besides,” he continued, voice rough with feeling, “we’ll have to get busy at some point. I’ve always wanted five kids.”

“Five?” she echoed, nonplused, before she felt his flash of humor.

“It’s tradition among the Tuckers to have big families, y’know.”

“I noticed,” she replied, deadpan.

“What, you don’t like the idea of five little rugrats runnin’ around, keepin’ us busy?”

She was perfectly capable of teasing in return. “If we were to have five children, I would insist that they all follow the path of Surak.”

He frowned. “Why?”

“Five of your progeny would destroy the patience of anyone. As well as destroy a house.”

“Hey!”

She arched an eyebrow at him, and instead of rising to the bait, he grinned wickedly.

“You callin’ me … energetic?”

“Quite.”

He chuckled and nuzzled her neck. “You never complained before.”

“I have learned to tolerate it.”

“Mm-hmm. ‘Tolerate’ it.”

She paused. “Perhaps …appreciate it.”

“That’s better.”

“If given further proof, I might be able to choose a more … accurate … word.”

He threw his head back and laughed, and she was again tempted to smile as the familiar sound rolled over the river. And then he bit her shoulder – none too gently – and whispered in her ear.

“Gladly, darlin’.”

Fin.

Back to Fan Fiction Main Menu

Have a comment to make about this story? Do so in the Trip Fan Fiction forum at the HoTBBS!

A whole mess of folks have made comments

Oh that was so beautiful! I feel good all over just from reading it.

Oh that was so beautiful! I feel good all over just from reading it. Simply amazing :)

Sorry about the double post - having computer problems!

Ludjin, I love this. It is sweet without being sappy, incredibly romantic and really really hot. Your characterizations are spot-on as usual. Fantastic job!

That was exquisite. So lovely to read. I really enjoy your writing.

I jumped with joy when I saw this posted, and it did not disappoint. After reading the prologue, I was expecting uber-fluff, but it wasn't at all.
It was lovely and just right. Sexy and sweet, I love how you write these two characters, and I particularly like your style of writing. It's just descriptive enough to set the stage and characters and get the idea across without excessive verbiage.

I echo kaplode above in that I really really enjoy your writing and btw, I'm still waiting for the rest of 'Clarity'!!

Very nice, Ludjin. I've got to agree with STC; no uber-fluff going on. The line about five of his progeny cracks me up...

Now about Clarity... :-)

Lyrical, heartfelt, layered, emotional. Trip is sooo romantic. And... *sniffle* ...Lorian. Pang in my heart, too. Just lovely, darlin'.

such a sweet story! i hope you continuing writing more ff, i love reading them!

Oh, that was very nice. Thank you for sharing this story with us.

Verah nice, m'dear! I loved it!

K... Now: CLARITY!! :-)

Love it! This is the real future of Trip and T'Pol.

Thanks for the comments, all! And Clarity ch. 4 is comin' along, slowly but surely. I gotta help out mah poor, captured MU TnT ...

Ludjin, that was wonderful! So sweet, but not too sappy (really)!

I liked it so much I have resolved not to bug you about Clarity. :-D Well, not tonight anyway.

What a beautiful story. I enjoyed it very much.

Yes.

And then: Ahem, any news about Clarity? ;-)))

Sweet, sexy, and so heart-warming. It's good for the T/Ters soul. I loved it. I've been hoping for more post Terra Prime stories that ditch TATV and this one did not disappoint. Thanks for sharing...

Now, what's going on in the MU? ;)

Ludjin that was probably just about the sweetest fic I have ever read,,,, ;) thanks for the B-day present.,,,, I loved how ya had TnT both on the same thought an feelings,,, Very sweet, a beautiful. Keep up the wonderful perfect writin, you suger shoveler you.

Mmmmmmmm, that was cozy! :) What a nice repite from angst, action, and B&B bashing... Thanks, Ludjin!

Mmmmmmmm, that was cozy! :) What a nice repite from angst, action, and B&B bashing... Thanks, Ludjin!

Yum! Sticky sweet and wonderful! Fluff rules! :)

Wonderful story Ludjin It was the kind of story I've been wanting to see T'Pol meeting Trip's family and discussing a family of their.great to see a romantic scenes in Florida .I really enjoyed this a sweet story look frorward to more of clarity and your other stories.

This was terrific! Just sweet enough, a little spice to make it interesting, a great story.

Thank you.

Nice! Just what I needed! If you're not opposed to the idea, more would be just as nice to read! :)

Lovely! Just what I needed, thanks!
:)

Yummy! Sweet, fudgy goodness. That hit the spot. Thanks, Ludjin.

Very cute story. Loved the addtion of the Percheron (I raise them, but we never named one "Pony," but that's something to consider for future foals! :o)

Pasteurella: I adore Percheron's, although my true loves of the equine world are Arabians. Still, the draft breeds just amaze me. They're huge! And so gentle.

Re: Clarity. She's a' comin'. If I had known how very difficult that fic would be to write, I wouldn't have posted it 'til I had finished. Alas, it's a brutal thing to work on. ...Sorry for the delays in-between chapters, y'all. :(

Wow! I'm sorry I waited so long to read this. (Hopefully you're still checking your comments.) This was beautiful...just perfect...My heart's melting, most definitely. Makes me realize just how much I miss Trip and T'Pol. Lovely story.

That was just wonderful, good to read something hopeful and so tenderly written.....goes off to start reading the rest of your ff now..........

I love your writing! Moonlight is the tenderest, most romantic thing on earth.

whoh nones been here after me sheesh

this was an amazing story, so sweet!! i hope you continue to write more, i love reading your work!!

i love this story! you haven't written anything in a while, any chance of an update anytime soon?

Wow! How did I miss this story until now?

This was just great, Ludjin! As has been stated above, it wasn't über-fluff. It was just right. So sweet and sexy at the same time. Sigh!

And I won't pester you with "Clarity"! ;-) Ooops...

this is such a sweet story, i love it! i reread it all the time. when are you going to write more, and continue your other stories?