Mistaken

Mistaken

By Sue

E-MAIL: susieqla@yahoo.com
RATING: PG
CATEGORY: Friendship/UST
SPOILERs: Precious Cargo
ARCHIVE: Yes.
DISCLAIMER: Enterprise is the property of Paramount. No profit is being made.
SUMMARY: A Sub-Commander, despite jumping to conclusions, isn't too proud to apologize.

> ==========

Commander Tucker is a changed man. He smiles far too much, and whistles toneless tunes for no apparent reason; I am unaware of any reason whenever he does. I cannot pinpoint the cause for this change. Having a suspicion is illogical, but I find myself harboring one all the same. I suppose in my intent to understand the Commander better, any alternation in his behavior interests me.

Earlier in Engineering, a critical intake valve had ruptured, and I happened to be there. The pandemonium that ensued was deafening. Quite frequently, Mr. Tucker contributes substantially to the mayhem, yet untrue to his usual choleric deportment when something goes wrong in his domain, with a large smile on his face, he whistled throughout the extensive repair of the breach. He worked fast and had paid painstaking attention to every detail, including the calibration of continuous systemic monitoring within .0002 farads. I had made sure that I told him how serious the malfunction could have been to the overall efficiency of the reactor. His loud response had been,

"You should count it a real privilege having so many opportunities to watch the ol' masta' in action." My emotions deeply in check, it was all I could do not to suggest that he ingest the smug look on his face, that was very dirty, which he wore extremely close to my face.

The 'old master' indeed... Although, in fairness, I admit that he had the rupture sealed and maintained on retrogradic, auto-systemic monitoring well under the standard rate for failure recovery.

"You are working at a level close to maximum efficiency, Commander," I had evaluated, and noted that his smirk seemed entrenched. But then, he seemed more than willing to deny my candid evaluation.

"Why, Sub-Commander, I do believe that you look like the sneaky kitty who swallowed the canary whole," he had said. I wondered what he had meant, since I had no idea. "Any time you're up for another round of cat an' mouse, be sure ya let me know, eh?"

"Excuse me, Sub-Commander, is anyone sitting here?"

"No," I respond automatically, staring up at Ensign Sato as though she had appeared out of nowhere. She has a tray full of food, and the thought of her eating those two greasy meat rods they call 'hot dogs' holds no appeal. I should have thought before I'd spoken.

"May I?"

She is already seating herself, so it would be bad manners to tell her she cannot sit with me at this table meant for three people. "Yes, of course." It isn't long before she is chewing away on one of her meat sticks, wrapped in its starchy blanket. I decide there is a pressing matter to attend to in my quarters, so I sip the last of the latest tea blend I am trying, Earl Gray, I believe Lieutenant Reed identified it as being, and rise.

"Oh, please don't leave on my account," the ensign insists before tearing off another piece of the 'hot dog.' I break off my ascension, halting long enough to imagine she and the Commander biting off pieces at opposite ends. Try as hard as I am able, I shudder a little, involuntarily. Reseating myself, I take stock of the fact that thoughts of Mr. Tucker have invaded my mind once again; their invasion is relentless. The sigh I make catches the ensign's divided attention.

"Are you all right, Sub-Commander?" she asks after swallowing.

No. I am not all right. The image of the Commander cavorting with that long-haired, long-limbed, scantily-attired Kaitaama is still fresh in my mind. I can think of nothing else but the look of stark surprise etched in Mr. Tucker's face when the captain asked if we had come at the wrong time. The wrong time--indeed! They had, 'illicit' written all over them!

"Sub-Commander?"

"I am fine, Ensign. Augmenting the configuration for flushing the baseline plasma conduits has proven rigorous. It may require the use of an additional padd." Since coming aboard Enterprise, I have become better adept at stylizing the truth.

Sato nods a little, but the facial expression she wears tells me she isn't wholly convinced. I analyze that I may need more practice in prevarication. She giggles following her sip of her beverage, and upon setting her receptacle down says, "I guess Trip got his wish."

My ears 'perk up,' as the drawling person just mentioned would say in jest. "Oh, Engsign? And what wish was that?"

"He got to meet the woman he couldn't tear his eyes away from while she slumbered in stasis. In more ways than one, to hear Malcolm tell it..."

I do not like the look of her eye rolls. I am about to reply, but she continues with sounding cryptic. I am not annoyed with her, but rather with myself. I should be beyond caring what occurred between the Chief Engineer and that woman...that ascendant to her world's monarchy. Mr. Tucker, *the third,* knows no semblance of propriety.

"But you were there, Sub-Commander. Surely you must have an opinion."

Indeed I do, but I am disinclined to share it with the Comm officer who is one of the integral generators of all that is rumor. "The Commander was thrust into a very trying and challenging situation. Given the circumstances, I am sure he conducted himself in a manner worthy of Starfleet, and the code of the gentleman he prides himself on upholding."

I am beginning to think the ensign's eyes will whirl out of their sockets. "Right." Sato starts on her second meaty source of nourishment. I will never eat meat; nothing short of a frontal lobotomy could induce me to. "Someone's sure become his private rooting section, lately."

I tell myself to ignore all fractions of her bold implication. My never-ending curiosity will ultimately be my downfall one of these days. "What makes you think so?" I contend.

She shrugs, seeming as though she had never given what she'd just said a second thought. "Oh...don't take everything I say so literally, Sub-Commander. It just seems that lately, you and the Commander are more often times than not on exactly the same wavelength." She pauses before taking another bite. "That's all I meant."

Let's try something new...I decide to give her the benefit of the doubt. "Ensign, may I ask you a question?" As I embrace my curiosity, I also acknowledge that perhaps augmented hindsight could serve me well.

"Ask away, Sub-Commander."

I can see she hadn't intended to reply with a mouth partially crammed with food. "Since Commander Tucker's interaction with the Krios Prime woman, would you observe his overall outlook to be considerably more...more..." Frowning inwardly, I stall; the descriptive word that will do my perception justice eludes me.

Sato smiles at me, her smile is one I've seen before. Its first appearance being when she had mentioned the Commander's reaction when she'd caught him staring into Kaitaama's stasis pod. It is knowing. "Happier? Contented?" Seeming to pause for dramatic effect, with another roll of her eyes, she adds, "Sated?"

That rolled off of her tongue a little too easily; a little too quickly. The slipperiness of the word slips past my mind's defensive barriers, and she saw the sag of my shoulders. "Sub-Commander?" I suspend acknowlegment, staring dead center, as though in deep meditation, at nothing in particular, until... "May I? T'Pol..."

She has never called me by name before. "Yes..." I hesitate, but immediately decide to reciprocate. "Hoshi?" This time her smile conveys pleasure.

"Do you have a thing for the Commander?"

I have no idea what she means. For a brilliant linguist, she can be as ambiguous as the man she questions me about. Thing? A * thing*. "Define this 'thing.'"

"Of course, it's none of my business," she assures, riveting my eyes with hers that probe. "But...it just seems to me that...well, you like him."

I contemplate what telltale indications I must have given away. Rigid about keeping my facial expression expressionless, I truthfully admit, "Yes." I watch her eyebrows rise to her severe hairline. "We are friends," I add, striving to sound casual. "Friends like each other, do they not?"

Shaking her head, she agrees, "Sure. That's what being a friend means. But that's not what I'm talking about. I mean liking him more than just a friend." She watches me as solemnly as I watch her.

Something inside me wants to confide in her; explore these feelings I have for Mr. Tucker, but before doing so, confess that I do have them. Wondering whether I should leaves me momentarily drained, and I suppose my indecision shows on my face. For someone as perceptive as Hoshi, I might as well have told her the Chief Engineer is a constant in my troubling dreams...now.

Candidly I tell her, "It would seem his tensions have been relieved."

Hoshi makes a muffled sound within her throat. It sounded as though she snorted. Finally, she says, "And it's driving you straight up the steel-reinforced walls, isn't it?"

I eye her closely. Unthinkable--I would squash such internal upheaval as the force of her inquiry implies. I sense a tremor in my shielding. If what I tell myself were wholly true, why do I feel this unsettled? "Why should it?" My years of rigid training serve me well...I focus on my favorite placid lake on Vulcan, visualizing myself being engulfed by its warm waters. I am nude. Commander Tucker is standing at the shoreline watching me. I tremble within my watery bubble.

Hoshi gives herself a minute before answering. I give myself time to re-compose myself. "Are you interested in him, or not? Which is it?" she asks, her question direct and it unsettles me further.

"Your inquiry has no relevance."

"Yes, or no?" she persists, and I feel my resolve to hold back weaken. She probably assumes I have no feelings at all, but buried as they are, they do exist within me, deep within. For a while now, I have considered that I might need more interactive advice, spanning greater insight into the psychology of the human male mind as it relates to mating, and subsequent bonding, if any. Enterprise's database helps up to a point, but it is limited.

"Y...yes." My voice sounded hollow and small, as though I had just learned to speak. Hear what he reduces me to.

The ensign folds her arms over her chest, and she wears a look that can be best described as sated. I sense I've given her what she has long suspected; my true feelings where Mr. Tucker is concerned. I feel as though I've succeeded in failing personally, somehow. "Men..." she breathes, disparaging the gender by her inflection. "Well...even if he had a fling with 'Princess Come Hither,' it doesn't necessarily mean he isn't interested in you, T'Pol. Our Chief Engineer is a man capable of inspiring many a heartthrob." I wonder about that. I'm not disposed to argue the point; Mr. Tucker does seem to have a way... "I've caught him looking you up and down admiringly when he thinks no one's paying the slightest attention."

"You have?" I say, my voice purposedly hushed.

"If he's on the bridge, and the captain gives you the command, his watchful eyes follow you every step of the way until you park yourself in the chair."

"I've never noticed that, En--Hoshi."

"Of course not. You're too pre-occuppied with assuming command, and doing it right." I have always credited Ensign Sato with being the most perceptive human of Enterprise's crew. "If you ask me..." I almost have, several times. "I think he's interested."

That is precisely my dilemna. Is he, truly? Is his behavior towards alien females indicative of his preference? His preference for me in particular though remains largely a mystery. Perhaps I deceive myself because I find him fascinating...exhilerating. What am I to do?

Both of us look up as though we've been caught doing something we shouldn't have been when we hear the voice of the man who is the subject under intense discussion.

"Evenin', ladies," he doles out, ambling up to our table. "Mind if I join ya?"

"As a matter of fact, Commander, we would." I shift my eyes off her face to his. "We have some quality girl one-on-one time going on here." I lend tacit approval in Hoshi's direction.

"Do tell," he humors, his light eyes alive with amusement. "Far be it from me to louse it up for ya." After a little bow, he bids, "Carry on, Ladies; Ensign, Sub-Commander." He winks at me.

When Hoshi judges that he is a safe distance from us, she asserts, "What a scamp!"

With my eyes still fastened upon the Commander, who is seated alone at a table for two by a viewportal on the portside, I ask, "Scamp?"

She nods, places the last of her salted radishes into her mouth and says, "So many definitions, so little time." She sighs, then grins. "He's the best definition of one I've ever heard or seen." Crunching the raw vegetable loudly, she seems to think aloud. "It never hurts for a woman who has more than a passing fancy to give that certain man some reasonable encouragement to get him moving in the right direction."

Humans intrigue me. "Even a man such as the Commander?"

She frees her silky black hair from its 'ponytail.' She confirms how strongly she feels about this. "Especially a guy like Trip. He's the type who thinks he knows what's best for himself, whether it be his kind of woman, to wearing socks that don't match but are both clean at the same time. He's sweet, and most times than not, means well, but he's too easily distracted... taking up with 'sleeping beauty' for instance." My eyes widen, questioning. "Oh...his nickname for Little Miss Stasis, she being just another example of his knack for loving 'em and leaving 'em."

"He is fickle," I flatly state.

"He's human, and lonely, requiring high maintenance in the caring department. He needs a stable relationship with a real woman. One he can't run all over, but by the same token, would treat him right, and he, her." Thoughtfully then, she says, "For starters, why not clear the air about this whole Kaitaama thing..."

I want to do just that, but how? Anything I might say to broach the subject will only lead to an argument. We have covered similar ground before. "What is there to say?"

Hoshi targets him with calculating eyes. "Go for coy."

"Being coy is not a strong suit for Vulcan females."

"You've been around us of the human, feminine persuasion long enough to have gotten some clues. Don't let him
> think you're accusing him of anything. Act interested.
> Tell him how resourseful you thought he handled the situation. Be attentive. He'll lap it up." She stands with her tray, hinting that I should make my way over to the 'lost soul,' as she just termed him.

Before she leaves, my curiosity forces me to qualify something I have wondered about, but have been too cautious to ask, up until now. "Ensign, do you find the Chief Engineer attractive?"

Following a crisp burst of laughter, she owns up, "He's a many splendored thing, but not my type. Now, get over there," she orders in a low voice, "and see what develops..."

If I were heeding logic, and not Hoshi's tone of challenge, I would not be aiming myself in the direction of his table...

"Girl talk over?" I stare at him. My tongue feels as though it is mired in adhesive. "What can I do for ya?" He must not be very hungry. All that he has before him is a glass of milk and several square-shaped, bland looking crackers. As though reading my mind, he says, "Not much of an appetite. More tired than anythin' else. Figured I'd turn in early." He runs his hand through his hair, holding it in his scalp for a moment. "If you wanna sit, go 'head."

I obey, and notice that his face possesses a quietness. Somehow, it relaxes me, and I find something to say. "Thank you, Mister Tucker."

"Sure 'nough...anytime." He starts munching one of his chalky crackers; crumbs fall freely. Without giving it further thought, I allow Hoshi's incisive suggestions to lead the way. "Your experience on that inhospitable world must have been rigorous. Coupled with the fact that you were attacked while totally defenseless, you are to be congratulated. You and your companion survived, despite all hardships."

Something in his eyes appears to glimmer. "Why, thanks. Nice of ya ta say so." He chuckles, and along with a shake of his head says, "Companion...a handful an' a half that gal. Mercy." More to himself he mutters, "Don't know what got inta me, although..." He smiles and I sense it is not for me. My relaxed feeling erodes to a degree, and some sadness tinges my mood. Yet, still heeding Hoshi's advice, I give nothing away.

"Your decoy was ingenious."

"Her idea, not mine." He drinks more milk, wiping away the white border above his upper lip with the back of his hand.

"Oh..."

"Pretty smart for royalty." Intensely, I feel the desire to leave this very instant. Hoshi's idea ia faulty, through and through. I have not invited my vulnerable feelings to surface to have them wounded by his insensitivity. "Brains and real easy on the eyes to boot..." In the second that I give in to the impulse to leave his thoughtless company as quickly as my legs can take me, he offers, "Exactly like you...'ceptin', you're nicer bein' around."

I am 'all ears,' as he would say. "Comman--"

"Sorry, sorry." His long sigh fills the empty places in my heart. "More tired than I thought. Sore as hell too. Jumpin' outta that tree was a bitch."

"I am not offended." Our eyes lock.

"You're not?"

"No. I am not..." We study one another's face for quite some time, as though whatever this is happening between us will disappear if more words are spoken.

Finally, he breaks the spell. "We kissed..." There is relief in that. "First she took a swing at me, an' next thing I knew, she's grabbin' my face for some down an' dirty liplock." A look I am ill-equipped to identify oversews his previous expression. "Yeah...I kissed back, and we were off to the races. We were that is till I passed out from sheer exhaustion, I guess. When I woke up, seeing myself spooned with my arm around her, I thought we'd uh, well...I thought we had till I remembered I couldn't go the distance."

"Why are you telling me this, Commander?"

He shrugs, and it is then that I am certain there is no necessity for my knowing anything more. He has told
me all that I needed to hear him say. "Who else am I gonna tell stuff like this to? The cap'n? Malcolm?"

Pointedly, I suggest, "Ensign Mayweather seemingly. I believe you refer to him as your 'running buddy.'"

"That he is, but this kind of stuff is for your ears only, T'Pol." He rings the table until we sit side-by-side. "No need for everybody present and accounted for knowin' our business," he says, sounding like a seasoned conspirator. "You didn't haveta tell me you were upset. You had it written all over ya. This time makes time number three." He assumes much, even if he is right. "Logically, your next question should be how long am I gonna keep puttin' ya through this kinda crap."

Truly, I am adrift on choppy, uncharted waters. I see he does not expect a spoken answer. I have none to give.

"They're all my friends, but you're...you're...well, ya know." What do I know? "You're a lot more ta me. I don't say so, but, shoo, I sure as hell know so."

I feel rewarded for having remained...in the Mess Hall...and...aboard Enterprise.

"Are ya doin' anythin' tomorrow night?"

"What is to happen tomorrow night?"

"T'Pol...it's Tuesday. Movie night."

Movie night, the weekly ritual. "Indeed..."

"Guess what's playin'?"

"Since you know, inform me."

"'It Happened One Night.'"

"What happened, which night?"

He nudges my thigh with his. "Who's on first?"

"Mister Tucker, what are you talking about?"

He is grinning so much, it threatens the rigidity in my face. "'It Happened One Night' is the name of the picture that'll be showin' tomorrow--a great classic. It stars Claudette Colbert and Clark Gable, two Hollywood greats. You're gonna love it, mark my words."

"What is this movie about?"

"Now if I tell ya, it'll spoil it for ya. Trust me, it's right up our alley."

"From your assertions, you have viewed this movie before."

"Your assertion's correct. And if you like it, think ya might break down an' let me hold your hand before it's over?"

His presumption knows no limits, akin to my knowing when to curb his exhuberance. "Assuming we sit together...unlikely." The sparkle in his eyes is not dampened.

Groaning, he exaggerates his lament, "Aw, T'Pol..."

========

End

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Half a dozen of you have made comments

I like the way your Trip had already worked out his interaction challenges with T'Pol. He appeared to be waiting for an opportunity to pursue the discussion and whe it presented itself went for it. That rings true to me. Thanks.

I liked the way Trip made the effort to reassure T'Pol while letting everyone else think he had gone the distance with Kaitaama. Now, what I really want to see is what happens on Tuesday...
Thanks! Ali D :~)

Loved the story... Will there be a part II

Ha ha! Very nice! I was left chuckling to myself at the end. I like the way Trip was ready for T'Pol, how he could read her so well, how he admitted she meant more to him than even Jon.

T'Pol's gal chat with Hoshi was a nice bit in there. T'Pol's fight within herself seemed only natural.

Good job!
Any plans for more?

How cute! Hold his hand T'Pol, you know you want to!

This is a great story...please more