Splintered Mirror

Splintered Mirror

By Sue

E-Mail: susieqla@yahoo.com
Website: None.
Category: Romance (in a quirky sort of way)
Rating: PG-13, (M)
Summary: Filler and ad libs for scenes...
Archive: All Enterprise archives are fine.
Disclaimer: Star Trek Enterprise is the property of
Paramount and its subsidiaries. I am not making any profit from this.
Spoiler(s): “In A Mirror, Darkly - Part 1”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tucker was prompt, another aspect of his personality T'Pol liked as well as counted on. Barely stepping inside her quarters, he seized T'Pol at the waist and with single-minded determination as his guide, pushed her up against the nearest wall of her entryway.

With avid zest he plied the side of her neck with nippy kisses. "Tonight it is," he growled against the side of her face, the softest face which never hinted that the proximity of his disfigurement repulsed her. "I've been countin' the minutes."

"As have I," T'Pol acknowledged, humoring him. All thought of satisfying his carnal desires was shunted aside. The schemer had a mission to fulfill. Loyalty to the true captain of this vessel barred the slightest deviation from her goal. She cupped Trip's face and traced the grotesque site with her finger, and smiling, T'Pol planted
a soft kiss on his ready source of self-consciousness. "Situating ourselves upon my bunk would prove more comfortable for our needs."

"Needs bein' the operative word in our case." Reluctantly, Tucker afforded her enough space to pry her body from the wall and lead him where his fantasies would come to life, or so he thought. When he stood before her bunk, T'Pol commandingly made him sit with a forceful flick of her wrist. Before he could protest too loudly, on his way
down, he yanked T'Pol along with him, planting her firmly in his lap, her knees cradling his crotch. Her hands snaked around his neck as her eyes held his gaze as though they belonged to a mongoose.

"I've got ya right where I want ya, suga."

"Indeed," T'Pol cajoled. Right where I'll have you, she abstracted, her mind already prepared for the task at hand. She took what she wanted from his aggressive mouth. How curious it was, the commander's knack for relieving much of her stress at whose mercy she frequently found herself.

Carelessly, though beneath it was hare-trigger volatility, Tucker spilled into T'Pol's mouth, "T-there's nobody else, is there? Nobody but m-me? Reed?" All the while, he'd managed to work both hands down her bared back until they rested on the higher portion of her backside's cheeks and squeezed. Tenaciously, he said, "Y-you're mine." The slinky sweep of her lower back intoxicated him to no end,
but hearing her assure him that he shared her with no one was what he craved at this very moment.

T'Pol murmured into his mouth words she knew would pacify him for the time being. Although she had more pressing concerns on her mind than assuaging Tucker's misgiving, she decided that allaying any attendant uneasiness he harbored would serve her best interests in the long run.

Malcolm, 'the handler,' Reed was a bane, always masterminding more and more devious ways in his never-ending efforts to get her alone. He took what was akin to fiendish delight, telling her what a lovely "bum" she had, amongst her other physical assets. She in turn found equally plausible ways to torture him, holding him emotionally hostage, when it amused her.

Securing her left hand at the side of Tucker's neck, as her right hand eased its way over the left side of his face, T'Pol reassured, "Since you, no other, nor none after..." The finger pads of her hand rooted themselves to the critical contact points, facial junctures that served as a means to her ends. Before Tucker knew what hit him, intense feelings of acceptance and understanding saturated his brain which she'd begun to send in a tailspin.

Unable to blink even, Tucker stared at her, dumbfounded, transfixed, as she infused his mind with lucid, powerful imagery. Struggling to form words Trip could only grind out, "Ba-baby, w-wha' are ya d-doin' to m-me?" Stark fear welled up within him, and pitying him wasn't all that difficult.

Stroking the side of his neck, softly T'Pol intoned, "My mind to your mind...my thoughts to your thoughts...our minds are merging." Strangely, the Vulcan too was transfixed. She leaned in and gently massaged Tucker's lips with her own and felt the muscles in his face go limper still. "Our minds are one." At long last. T'Pol closed her eyes, feeling completely at peace as she felt the beginnings of
trust pool in Tucker.

She'd been correct about this man all along, as he himself had expressed. Where would she find another like him? He drew her too, like moth to flame. The complexity of his mind astounded her. If he survived what she had planned for him, perhaps this would only be the beginning of many such unions.

For Tucker not being Vulcan, and this of itself was all the requisite reason pairing with other species was routinely discouraged, he had his strong points. T'Pol found she'd grown quite attached to this flawed human, quirks and all.

But enough extraneous speculating, she admonished herself, as her thoughts of him, perpetrating sabotage, infiltrated the chief engineer's mind. Forrest was counting on her...

== == == == == == ==

From the warp engine's platform, Trip looked down at T'Pol. She was by the priming coupler tracking fluctuations. Today had been a very good day, and it was about to get better. Why, he asked himself. Because tonight his version of a vision was going to make sweet, insane love to him, at least he hoped she would. T'Pol was funny about intimacy, as a rule, which depended upon how far she was willing to go.

Maybe when he begged for more, she'd make it raw and never stop. She did mind-bending things with that tongue of hers. Both of them seemed to be creatures of habit, and they were well on their way to becoming a tough obsession to break.

"How do the numbers look?" he called to her, catching her eye with a glint in his.

"They appear normal just as you anticipated, Commander." The Vulcan's eyes met his and she noted he was smirking. She raised an eyebrow then and dutifully returned her eyes to the small monitoring screen.

His fingers gave evidence of the expertise that moved them, tweaking a toggle here, flipping a switch there. The transitional flux from the reactor showed negligible deviations. From where he stood, all seemed to be as it should be. Tucker gave one last look before descending
from his perch.

Coming to stand next to her on her right, he perused what she'd been paying rapt attention to, reams of sensitive data filling the screen. "I don't like to brag..."

"Then don't," was T'Pol's curt reply.

"What's eatin' you?" Trip brushed the back of his fingers up against the scars that drove him to distraction most times. The price that a lack of knowledge and forethought had demanded of him, or anyone victimized by radiation contamination. Although a mite self-conscious, he stared at T'Pol, trying to figure her out.

It nagged at him constantly, whether she'd found someone unmarred she'd rather lavish her attention on. If indeed there was another man, daring to steal his unexpected sweetheart away, he'd break his neck. She was his, whether she knew it or not, and if she didn't get that, he'd make sure she did.

Tucker blinked several times as though someone had whispered in his mind. He shot T'Pol a questioning look as though in the throes of trying to remember something. He narrowed his eyes. Something she'd told him? But, when, where?

"Archer wants the cloaking technology adapted as soon as possible," she said just as stiffly. "Time is of the essence if we are to get to that ship."

"And we're goin' as quickly as is humanly possible. Since when has takin' necessary precautions somethin' you dismiss?" Tucker stalked over to the actual configuration where T'Pol had already gone and was beginning to make the critical adjustments on the wiring.

Inaudible to Tucker's ears, the name of Archer's sequestered object of quest escaped T'Pol's lips while she examined the alien technology. "The 'Defiant.' A descriptive of Archer as well..."

"You forget something?" the chief engineer accused, targeting T'Pol with eyes that looked, for the most part, hostile. Raspy, Tucker barked, "BIGGS! Get the commander a radiation meter!" No sooner ordered, the subordinate handed the shield off to T'Pol. Tucker
gloated, seeing her accept it without exception. Ruin that gorgeous face and body? Not if he had anything to do with it. "You don't want to end up like me, do ya? I've absorbed enough delta rays to guarantee my grandchildren'll glow in the dark."

"Flux coupler," T'Pol requested, matter-of-fact.

Obeying without forethought, Tucker placed the tool in her poised hand. Such a lovely hand, fine enough to eat out of if T'Pol wanted him to, whatever she wanted him to. Still sounding cocky Tucker rephrased, "They say for every year you spend next to one of these you lose a decade off your life expectancy. Which means I'll probably be dead by the end of the week." Reactors. they couldn't live with them or without them in this day and age.

T'Pol hoped not as she made efficient use of the all-purpose implement with an air of annoyance. She would never find another human as subservient as the virile Commander to manipulate. Humans, as it was
purported, were their betters, yet she, a semi-enslaved Vulcan, controlled Tucker like a randy puppet.

She had much to thank his libido for, that, and her own vulnerability to his innate animal magnetism. When the actual season of 'blood fever' claimed her reason, would he serve, despite his being human?. It was illogical, letting such willingness go to waste.

"You should speak to Captain Archer about a promotion."

Tucker almost winced, fat chance, his doing that. He and Archer were certainly not on the best of terms, despite their weary years of service together. He looked at her, letting his guard drop. "You're his First Officer. You could talk to him for me." His was a humble request.

The hopefulness she knew that was couched in Trip's eyes, T'Pol considered, the depth those exotic eyes conveyed. She dared not look him in those dangerous eyes. Her tone was dry, like the sifting through of fallen, dead leaves. "Why would I do that?" Perhaps she would, though. There was something in his tone that spoke to her, and her alone.

She'd had her reasons for selecting him that far outweighed his susceptibility to her wiles. His candor had grown on her. And despite his gullibility, Tucker was direct. Directness in a species had its merits. There were times when his being overbearing was his undoing, but she knew just how to handle him when he got like that. Unlike most humans, when she was with the chief engineer in a private setting, she was T'Pol of Vulcan, a woman who commanded respect. Tucker, setting his baser proclivities off to the side, gave her just that, unasked without reproaching.

"Well, I did you a favor once," he indelicately funneled into her ear, debating whether or not he should kiss its tempting lobe. He inched his lips closer to the prize. It could be love, Trip juggled. Love? Yeah...love...in these totally screwed-up times where noble values rarely prevailed. He was delighted, sensing how his crowding her
unsettled the radiant Vulcan. Hemming her in a little more, he puffed a breath against her ear that reached her cheek too and was delighted further when he felt her tremble against him. The body this woman had, Trip silently praised.

Snapping out of the faraway place Tucker had unwittingly transported her to, T'Pol said, "We agreed never to discuss *that*." Vulcan mates never discussed shared intimacies. Mates? Were they? T'Pol would need to consider that at length.

Smugly, drawing heavily on his arousal, Trip replied, "And I haven't."

"I'd hardly call it a favor." T'Pol steeled herself against his body which was doing confounding things to hers. Yet, despite her self-censure, she turned into him a bit more. "You enjoyed yourself." Now if that wasn't a case of the pot calling the kettle black, T'Pol reflected, even donning one of Tucker's more colorful expressions, as she was doing more often.

Trip jammed himself up against T'Pol even more snugly, briefly reliving the fleeting pleasure she'd given him. "Several times, as I recall." Feeling herself at Tucker's mercy, T'Pol locked eyes with him, staring into the paradox of what had transpired between them. After a few daunting moments had passed, Trip said huskily, "So, how
many years is it until your 'Pon Farr' comes around again?"

She was sure to let him know. Almost touching her lips to his, T'Pol said in sotto voce, "Tonight..." She unnerved herself when she realized she had almost said, 't'hy'la.' "A-uh" She breathed in sharply, feeling Tucker buttress her crotch with his open hand and
possessively press in.

"Tonight, baby?" His heart was beating out of control.

Taking a shallow breath and a dry swallow, T'Pol nodded. Against her better judgment, she brushed her lips against Tucker's, almost wantonly. "Tonight," she panted when Trip took her bottom lip between his lips and contentedly held on.

As though on cue, a deafening whine arrested their attentions. Grouchily, Tucker exclaimed, "Where the hell's that coming from?" He had his answer in a matter of moments. "Pull the matrix converters!" Demonstrating how much of a man of action he was, Trip took matters
into his own hands, literally, and paid for his rash action. Corkscrewing pain ripped through him, searing nerve fibers, when he received one of the worst shocks his nervous system had ever sustained and he was thrown down. Sheer agony kept him writhing upon the deck while inwardly he beseeched for his intense misery to mercifully end.

Evidencing no remorse whatsoever, T'Pol looked on, a
clinical study in dispassion.

Out of nowhere, it seemed, Phlox arrived, and wasted no time assessing the extent of the chief engineer's injury. His right hand seemed to have sustained the most damage, warranting some on the spot cell regeneration, which the restorative device Phlox had brought provided.

Archer, who had fortuitously arrived as part of the aftermath of the chaotic scene demanded, "Can you repair the cloak?" He was so close to losing it in front of a staff where for every one who admired him two more despised him. Forrest's usurper looked near to blowing
like the volcano he was known to be.

Sounding disgruntled, Tucker informed, "It'll take at least a day.

Unsatisfactory, Archer silently protested. "You have six hours."

As though to rub salt in an infected wound, Reed interjected, "There are dozens of EPS feeds on this deck, and the only one that overloads is the one connected to the *cloaking device*." He smelled a rat, a nice big traitorous one, convinced that the he or she involved had
gotten away with sabotage. Thwarting Archer's schemes, with ultimate conquest of the Empire, was the jewel in the crown.

Tucker was quick to set Reed and his smugness straight, having picked up on where the opportunist was going with this. The southerner loathed this man who had proven time and again he was no friend, the farthest from one. "The power surge disabled other systems. Internal
sensors are down, we've lost grav-plating on G-deck."

Archer was furious. "The cloak is your *first* priority. Someone's responsible for what happened." Reed felt he was being vindicated and cut surly eyes that taunted Tucker's way. "Find out who."

The chief engineer balked, meddle in his sacrosanct territory? There was no way in an EPS conduit he'd allow that! "My people can investigate this. I don't need *his* kind..." Tucker cut his own eyes, just as bullying as Reed's, at him. "Crawlin' around, pullin'
relays--"

"GET THAT CLOAK ON LINE!" Archer's fury had intensified to epic proportions, and even hell wasn't the highest price to pay. With intense satisfaction, he watched Tucker scramble like a jackrabbit on Rollerblades to save his butt from being hung out to dry.

= = = = = = =

With less than two hours to go for Archer's deadline, Tucker was prepping the cloaking device for a systemic cascading diagnostic. Dark thoughts shaded his thinking with every adjustment he made on sensitive timing relays. He'd been accused, convicted and punished without cause, and he was sorely bitter. His self absorption with what he had had to endure, gleefully meted out to him by Malcolm, 'the sadist' Reed prevented him from noticing the problematic woman in his life enter the staging area.

'...Whoever's responsible is gonna pay through the nose. Just wait till I found out who the s-o-b is...'

Practically marching up to Trip, T'Pol insistently said, "The captain wants a progress report."

Startled, but determined not to give her the satisfaction of knowing she'd rattled him, Tucker inflexibly rejoined, "I'll need another minute to calibrate the field converters." He huffed his way to the terminal that had been headed before being spliced into the main matrix. He rankled then, facing away from the set-up Pieces of the convoluted puzzle clicked into place, and he had his answer, and it wasn't good. A word of five letters beginning with 'b' came to mind as he grilled her with murderous looks. "I spent four hours in The Booth 'cause of you!" he vindictively incriminated.

The dead opposite of nonplussed, T'Pol rebuffed, "Perhaps you should direct your anger at Commander Archer."

T'Pol was more convenient for doing just that since she was here right with him. Tucker had no inkling of an idea how much his ire exhilarated her, another facet of his affecting appeal. She ate him up when he was like this.

Raising his voice to fever pitch, Trip lambasted, "You disabled the alarms in that junction and made it look like *I* did it."

With a chilly bite at the end of it, T'Pol replied mildly, "You're mistaken."

"THE *HELL* I AM--I think I'd remember if I sabotaged the ship!"

T'Pol gave him a pitying eye as she brushed past him, close enough to experience a certain zing zip through her. "Not necessarily..."

A knowing suspicion mingled with apprehension seized Tucker as the weird, familiar tingling at the back of his mind threw hints. Dismayed, he voiced, "What did you do to me?"

A pronounced pride echoed in her words, her face as deadpan as ever. "I lured you away from Engineering with the promise of a sexual encounter."

The chief engineer struggled with himself. She what? In his mind's eye, he saw where they were and what they were doing, and he gasped as he heard her say those strange words again..."My mind to your mind..."

T'Pol continued amidst the constant buzz of the workplace. "Once we were alone in my quarters, I implanted a telepathic suggestion."

Again the arcane recitation resounded in his brain ..."My thoughts to your thoughts..."

Close to Trip's face, T'Pol said, "I compelled you to sabotage the power grid. After you completed the assignment, we melded again."

Tucker frowned, clearly lost. Why couldn't he recall anything she'd done? Melded again, he thought, sadly knowing it wasn't what he thought at all.

"I altered your memory of what had happened." The hurt in his eyes touched her and she capitulated, lessening the impersonality of her tone. "It was my duty to help Captain Forrest regain command."

Trip wanted to grab that fragile-looking neck of hers and wring it. How dare she use him for her selfish ends! "You're gonna regret what you did." Mentally, he riffled through several ill-conceived forms of
payback, but none were vengeful enough. He'd have to plan this carefully, get her when her guard was down.

It was all she could do to restrain herself from shoving him to the deck and mauling him with kisses. Self-contained and utterly galling, she reminded him, "Threats are illogical."

Instead of smashing her face in, Tucker took his frustration out on the comm. "Engineering to Bridge!"

Forrest was right on the mark. "Go ahead..."

"We're ready. I'm gonna have to channel everything except auxiliary power."

Sounding appeased, Forrest ordered, "Engage the cloak."

Quick to comply, Tucker activated the device and held his breath. Everything was riding on the miracle he and his crews had been expected to perform. Lighting flickered on all decks and everyone felt the vessel lurch. It seemed as though the crew were suspended
between real time and continuum glitches. This continued until the lights stopped flickering and the starship glided on, though invisibly, as sensors indicated.

Sweet success. Engineering had come through, yet again, as it normally did. Its chief engineer, reveling in this latest victory hard-earned, breathed a sigh of relief. He continued to stand at the cloaking device, looking at the Vulcan with her back still up against the bulkhead. Disappointment where she was concerned read like a
signpost on his face. How little she thought of him was obvious.

His better judgment clamored for his leaving her alone, walk away and don't look back. She was nothing but trouble with a capital 't.' But the idea of how he'd used her too allowed him to ignore his sour advice. Instead, Tucker decided to go back, returning to T'Pol mere inches from her face. Everybody used everybody else on this warp-capable 'naked city.' Why should she be any different?

"So...we never actually had sex?" he introduced, trying to sound casual, failing miserably, though. He couldn't have felt more the fool.

"No," T'Pol answered flatly.

Having it this bad for a woman lacking a heart was a liability. He cursed himself for having let it go this far. "You hurt me every chance ya get," Tucker, his heart heavy within his chest, muttered. "And I let ya. Let ya with my eyes wide open. 'Cept in this case.
You win a medal for pullin' the wool over my eyes this time."

Fascinating, T'Pol thought, glimpsing how that mattered to him, her wronging him with no regard for his feelings, as if he had none. Human he is, she reminded herself. She decided she'd soften her statement of fact, which she imagined he needed. "There wasn't time. If we had engaged in intimate relations, I wouldn't have wanted you
to forget. It was imperative that your memory be altered. You wouldn't have remembered anything."

He perked up, wary to yield too much confidence in hope that was murky, at best. And yet, what had she just admitted? Was it barely possible the Vulcan ice goddess had the beginnings of a soft spot for him? A warming trend like that? Maybe he should pinch himself. "Know what really bugs me?" Their noses were almost touching.

"What?" The touch of his breath against her face was soft and warm. She gazed upon his disfigurement, having memorized every misshapen angle, having grown inordinately fond of this damaged face. Gingerly, she stroked it with her forefinger.

"You could've come right out and asked me to help ya 'stead of turnin' me into a freakin' zombie. Tinkerin' with my mind like it was your damn plaything."

T'Pol reevaluated, noting how inviting the look in his eyes had become, his words spoken without rancor. "Your loyalty to Archer, I--"

"The hell with him. He's wrong and can't be trusted as far as a body can spit."

"Agreed."

"I owe him squat. It's every able-bodied crew man or woman for themselves in this dog-eat-dog universe. I follow orders, and that's all. I obey what's good for me, first." After what the self-serving turncoat had put him through, his loyalty to Archer was history.
"Screw him! I'm on your side."

"Acknowledged. I'd like that. It is unexpected."

"Just chalk it up to my funny way of not showin' it, but I always was."

Sounding chastened, T'Pol admitted, "I misjudged you."

"I get that a lot," he said with a smile, tapping her forehead lightly with his.

T'Pol fitted his head in-between her hands. She surprised him more so when she said, "Perhaps if I had trusted you more..."

The hand, which moments ago he'd wanted to ram into her face, lifted, its thumb gently stroking along her jaw. Tucker freely confessed, "You've been real sweet to me when no other woman would even give me a second look. For that, I'll always owe ya..."

"You're quite desirable for a human male." Full of acceptance, T'Pol anchored her face into his touch.

"Comin' from you, I'll take that as a raving compliment."

"You may accept it as such," T'Pol conceded, and closed her eyes. "Perhaps we could meld again."

"Maybe this'll give ya a big hint how much we should." The kiss he tantalized her with held promise of the type of melding he ultimately had in mind. "Meld, me, suga. Anyway ya like."

"You're easily led," T'Pol touted, digging her fingernails into his scalp as she prevented him from coming up for air, until, finally, he forced her to. Her admission gave her pause, but being inclined to trust him more, she was
making a start.

"You like it like that," he rumbled. "You love doin' the leadin.' You love lots of things that involve bondag--"

"Yes," she gushed, nodding against his mouth, nipping at it, before he kissed her full on again.

"--COMMANDER T'POL, REPORT TO THE BRIDGE--"

Swearing, Tucker dragged his mouth out of hers, peeved, and seeing stars all the same. "We pick this up later," he whispered gruffly, pausing to listen to her breathe, and she was, heavily. "My quarters, say about oh-eighteen hundred." He stopped barring her way only after she let his earlobe slip through her fingers. "Your fascination with my ears," he kidded.

"Once, you were fascinated with mine," she said, walking off in the direction where she had entered.

"Still am, but I've graduated to other equally fascinatin' areas on your delicious person." He tossed her a saucy wink. "See ya."

"Later," T'Pol finished for him, getting on her way to report, wondering what further good use she could put Tucker to in the fight for a more logical star system, as prescribed by Vulcans. Stopping, she turned to look at him, and he waved her off as though implying she was being a nuisance. Taking her time about it, she got on her away again with her head slightly cocked to the right with an eyebrow raised.

His loyalty to her wasn't what she had anticipated, but the idea intrigued her, even triggering the weakest of smiles to taint her lips. Which she made sure no one saw. Human males, this one in particular, was...well there was not another word that did him justice. He was fascinating.

Leaving Engineering, she looked forward to 'working' on Tucker some more...tonight.

End

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A whole mess of folks have made comments

Fabulously wicked little MU ficlet!

"She was nothing but trouble with a capital 't." - as in T'Pol!

Poor MU Trip - If only he knew just how HoT he is wif his wittle skah... ]:D

Spicey!

Poor Trip, being strung along and used and unable to resist wicked T'Pol. Methinks he has more than a few surprises in store for our favourite Vulcan. Ali D :~)

Nice 'n hot!

Delicious. Absolutely devine. I loved it. I like to think that even MirrorT'Pol and MirrorTrip can't keep their hands off each other...and this is the perfect fic to illustrate that. Great job! I loved it.

hm. i really felt sorry for trip, not being able to move. it was almost pathetic, in a sorry kinda way, the `baby whatcha doing to me`or something. nicely written, keep on.

An intriguing take on the MU T/T action. I enjoyed it... very much so!

So it looks like in the MU a certin Vulcan dont wait every 7 years. Cool Fic.

Very interesting. I loved it!

Very nice...loved the deliciously wicked T'Pol and Trip. Hope they find a happier universe with Empress Hoshi.....T

I liked it - you made T'Pol convincingly borderline between RU and Mu-wickedness. There are hints of approach in her actions, like she has feelings for him...But we're often reminded that she isn't a mush, she's horny and still, for some part, looking for what she can 'get' out of him.

And Tucker's got a physicality to his obsession with her that distances him from his RU-counterpart's sincere feelings.

Well done characterizations, believable and fascinating :)