Repairs- Ch. 4

Repairs

By nikitee

Rating: R - English – Romance, Angst
Disclaimers in Chapter 1

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Chapter 4

Decision Made and Analyzed

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T'Pol stepped into the mess hall, having made her hasty retreat from Archer, PADD and EV gloves still cradled in her arm. Empty. She sniffed and closed her eyes partway, thinking, deciding...

With a mental shrug, she moved to the wall and opened the sliding door in front of the desserts, removing two plates of strawberry-rhubarb pie. Mister Tucker likes desserts, she rationalized. It was logical for her to bring him something, since she would be interrupting his sleep, imposing on him in the middle of the night.

Balancing plates, gloves, and PADD, she navigated the now-empty corridors to the chief engineer's quarters. She elbowed the door release without chiming, and strode purposefully into his cabin. No one would have thought this strange of late: the science officer and chief engineer were working on repairs practically around the clock... they were in and out of each others' cabins, PADDs and schematics in tow, all the time now.

He was sprawled on the narrow bed, reading a PADD in the dark. His own EV suit was propped in the corner, near the bathroom.

"Commander, I have the update reports on areas 56-59, and the microscans of bulkheads 16 and 17-E," she breathed as the door wooshed shut behind her, "and I have brought pie."

Trip kicked back his blanket and set aside his own PADD, reaching for the one tucked under T'Pol's arm. He stood, flipped the PADD on, and frowned immediately. "These both need replaced. Damn! How many type 6 bulkheads do we have left?"

"One. I recommend we replace 17-E, and leave the decking above 16 open for replacement later. I don't think we can fabricate one with available materials now."

T'Pol set the plates on the desk, and fiddled with her gloves. The chief engineer nodded in agreement, yawned, and ran a hand through his mussed hair. He'd showered since he'd come off shift two hours ago, she noted. He was clean, and smelled... wonderful. She breathed deliberately, and let her eyes roam slowly over his upper body in the dim light: he had superb musculature, she noted absently: well-defined pectoralus major and latisimus dorsi. The engineer had no fat on the obliquus externus or linea alba... she noted a twitch in his inguinal ligament, and followed it from the top of his hip to his... hmmm.... sweatpants. She could hear her heart pounding, and the blood surging through her veins -- in her ears and behind her eyes, in her fingertips, and deep inside -- burning. She was exhausted, dizzy, and so...

Trip seemed to read her thoughts as she stared at him without seeing him. He caught her eye, nodding toward the pie. "Stayin' a while?"

She refocused, raised an eyebrow at him... and put down her gloves decisively, on his rumpled bed. "Yes, I am staying... I neglected to bring forks."

T'Pol closed her eyes and held her breath as he stepped behind her, and pushed the EV suit down off her shoulders, tracing her neck lightly with his finger, until he reached the zipper of the pressure suit.

"We'll improvise, darlin'..."

***

The only light in the room came from below -- a PADD under the bed, her rational mind supplied, green and blue glowing from the scans displayed on the small screen. It must have fallen off the bed. Her PADD was below Mister Tucker's bed, she told herself.

T'Pol closed her eyes and breathed in his now familiar scent from the soft, warm blankets tucked around her, along with a different one: theirs, their fluids mingled together -- the smell of their mating, musky and exotic.

Mating? Mates? Mated, her... with a human. For 5.625 hours. Nine... or ten? Yes, ten... culminations. Mated. With him, a man for whom idiomless grammar was an impossibility, whose passions erupted at the most inopportune times... a brilliant engineer and a gentle man who knew the meaning of loyalty... and silence.

How had she chosen... this, him? She had decided her fate weeks ago, or thought she had... EV suits ripped so easily... an accident, a casualty in the repairs... an end without shame for her here, or her family on Vulcan. No questions. No body to analyze. So easy. So painless. So many shifts, she'd gone into the hull's cold breach -- there was no logic in wasting the adrenaline, or her strength, as long as it could serve the ship. The pressure suit kept her blood from boiling as the hours dragged on, and her fever rose. With pressure, she could work, until she couldn't... couldn't...

Perhaps he'd known, she realized. Perhaps that was why the engineer had met her at the airlock every time, at every hour, why he watched her always with a carefully blank expression, and kept close to her in all the meetings and work sessions. Why he was her partner for every shift: blank faced, as blank as the most stoic of Vulcan masters -- but with those blue eyes that betrayed his concern for her, and glittered with sorrow, or fear... or guilt... or passion. And he'd never said a word, not about what he knew of her 'situation' nor what he suspected.

He loved her, she breathed inwardly, acknowledging what was now so obvious: no, not in the way humans so frivolously extol in poetry and song, but with that silent, strong presence borne of respect and loyalty, and the deepest type of intimacy -- the only type of love a Vulcan could respect or acknowledge for... herself. How long had he loved her? How long had she known, and betrayed her own logic to be with him? She sighed as the image of him in her mind smiled, grinned, beamed. T'Pol felt the heat rising in her again, not turbulent and random this time, but focused... on him. Her mate. Her t'hyla. From the beginning? From the first sight of him in Archer's quarters, possibly. Definitely when she touched him, felt the loyalty he was capable of, in decon...

Hands and face tingling, she pushed the blankets aside and stretched to retrieve her PADD from under the bed. Dress, T'Pol. Find him.

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Continued in Chapter 5

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