Bonding

Bonding

By Tigerkitten

Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Everyone/Everything belongs to Paramount, blah, blah. Don’t sue, blah, blah.

Author’s Note: I don’t believe in spoilers. I’d much rather wait for the show and be surprised than catch a sneak peek. I don’t know how the bond is going to play out, and I don’t want to. So, if you know, please keep any comments about whether or not I’ve gotten it right to yourself. All other comments are greatly appreciated as always :)

I’m a shipper at heart, and I always will be, so if you’re looking for some meat to your story, you’re looking in the wrong place. I would have liked to take more time, and actually build out a believable plot and some action, but I wanted to get this up before I found out that it doesn’t fit with the plot created by the powers that be. Maybe if they don’t develop it this week, I’ll take some time to adjust the story. I actually won’t, but I’d really like to believe that I might, so let’s just leave it at that.

Setting: Starts out prior to Bound and wraps up after.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“I’m merely stating that you shouldn’t have been touching it in the first place.”

“Great, just great,” Trip thought, sighing deeply as he hung his head. “Not only does she think I’m a complete idiot – *which* I am – but now I’m stuck in…” His head snapped back up and he only barely managed to stifle a gasp as her hand smoothed the thick gel across his lower back. His body betrayed his attempt at nonchalance though, as goose pimples sprang up at her touch.

“Maybe she’ll think I’m cold,” he thought miserably, trying to ignore the warmth of the glowing blue tubes that crossed the entire room. “Right,” he thought wryly, “she’ll buy that…The gel. Maybe she’ll think the gel is too cold.”

“Is the gel too cold?” she asked. Trip was trying so hard not to sigh in relief that he barely noticed the concern in her voice. He thought vaguely that it had an odd note of confusion to it.

“I’d have never even picked up the damn thing if I hadn’t been trying to ignore her walking into sickbay. What the hell is the doc doing leaving something like that lying around for, anyway?” At least it had only sprayed her front, so he wouldn’t have to touch her. The stuff had puffed up like a cloud and descended right over him, though. This time he did sigh, but it was mercifully covered by the sound of the viewing portal sliding open.

T’Pol glanced over with mild interest, Trip with vague apprehension.

“Another twenty minutes should do the trick,” Phlox said pleasantly.

“Twenty minutes!” Trip yelped.

“That was a very nasty strain of fungus you dropped, Commander Tucker,” he replied, mildly reproachful. He seemed to become more aware of Trip’s plight and growing unease, because he said more mildly, “I’m sure you’ll be more careful of what you touch in sickbay in the future.” Trip rolled his eyes up, knowing T’Pol was thinking she’d told him as much. Smiling, Phlox closed the slot, leaving them alone again. The soft noise sounded to Trip’s ears more like the iron door of an ancient cell slamming shut.

“She’s going to get on me again,” Trip thought. He tried to concentrate on that idea, hoping it would make him angry or at least keep him distracted for just a few more minutes. “God, how many layers of that stuff is she going to put on?” It seemed as though she’d made a dozen passes over his back already. Slow passes. Those soft hands of hers gently skimming over his skin, pressing just enough to smooth away tension as she coated his shoulders with moist, cool… “God, I’ve got to get out of here…think about something else…think about…What did she just say?” He pulled his head up. It had somehow sagged forward again.

What she’d said was, “The doctor was adamant that a good layer of gel be applied.” Trip might have noticed that she almost sounded defensive, if he hadn’t been so bent on not thinking about what she was doing to him. About how much he didn’t want her to stop. About how much he… “Oh, God,” managed to run through his brain. A small part of him realized he was probably supposed to have responded to whatever she’d just said. He grunted non-committedly, just be on the safe side.

“Our time would probably pass more quickly with some sort of conversation,” she said archly. “Something more engaging than guttural noises, perhaps.”

“What exactly would you like me to say?” he responded loudly, instantly on the defensive. He was itching for a fight. He swung to face her, his muscles suddenly rigid again.

“You’ve been uncommunicative since you returned to Enterprise.”

“No I haven’t,” he snapped, “Ask Malcolm. Ask anybody. Sure, I’m concentrating on doing my *job* and getting back to Columbia, that doesn’t mean I don’t take time to talk to my old crew.”

“Perhaps it’s just *me*, that you’re not speaking to,” she said, her back stiffening as he glared down at her.

“Well, maybe I don’t have anything to say to you,” he replied. His drawl was slipping out more, and he moved in closer, eyes flashing as he leaned in towards her face. He tried not to notice how much the whole thing reminded him of their first time alone in this chamber, their first fight. Trip took a deep breath, preparing for a good shout so he wouldn’t think about why he liked fighting with her.

Just then, the view port slid open again. “Time’s up,” the doctor sang. “It seems you’re done early after all.” He watched as his two patients continued to face off, both jaws set firmly as two sets of eyes bored into one another.

Trip swung on his heel, smacked the door switch, and grabbed his clothes as he stalked out. He stopped long enough behind a screen to throw them on before he left sickbay, trying to control the urge to run.

It had been a long week, but the repairs to the engine were almost complete. “Just a few more days,” he told himself, “A few more days and I’ll get back to Columbia, and back across the galaxy where I won’t have to see her every day.” He snorted quietly to himself. He’d already tried that, and it didn’t seem to have done much good. Every time he’d thought he’d put her out of his head, she’d pop right in again. Like those weird day dreams in the white room. What was up with that? Her meditation area, her dream self had told him. “Yeah, I guess that is the kind of place she’d go for. Don’t know how I ever came up with it. I really would have thought she’d prefer the desert or the beach.” Shaking his head, he moved on to his quarters.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 2

He was still thinking about that room as he entered his quarters. The sweats from sickbay fit all right, but he still felt a little gross, like he’d never quite get clean. That thought took him back to the decon chamber. He got as far as taking off his t-shirt before the memory of warm blue light washed over him. Vaguely, he was aware of how different some of his memories had been lately. They were more detailed, like he was experiencing the sensations all over again. He flopped to the bed, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back, feeling like the warmth of decon was seeping into him all over again. A quick thought that this must be a residual of concentrating for neuro-pressure passed through his mind, but left again quickly as the remembered warmth fused over him. He started to picture the stark metal walls and the soft blue light, subconsciously taking himself back there.

That wasn’t where he ended up. It was a bit like walking through a cloud at first, only thicker, like something was dragging him back. Once he’d cleared the mist, there was no resistance at all.

The walls were white, or seemed to be. He couldn’t exactly see walls, but there was a definite impression that they were there, but also that they kept going in all four directions. The floor was definitely white. He could see it as clearly as he could feel reverberations coming up through his souls with every step. They were made of something hard. Marble, maybe? Or maybe nothing real at all, just solid. The room didn’t seem vast. It was more…cozy. Empty in a comforting way, but not stark. There was no feeling of being a speck in an infinite space, but neither was there a feeling that the room was closing in.

She was there, of course. He’d known the second his first step connected with that hard surface that this is where he’d end up, and she’d be there. She was sitting on the floor in her meditation position. She knew he was there. He could tell by the way that her shoulders stiffened just a little that she knew he was there and was trying to ignore him.

A wry smile caught at the side of his mouth at that knowledge. There was less intensity here than there’d been earlier, and he could feel the tension from sickbay leeching quickly away.

“So now you’re the one who’s not going to speak to me?” he asked. He couldn’t resist teasing her, or prevent the grin that started to spread across his face.

“I’m meditating,” she replied, a bit too sharply.

“It’s the middle of the day.”

“When I choose to meditate is no concern of yours,” she nearly snapped. She’d opened her eyes and swung her head around to glare at him.

He tried to let the smile drop, but in the end he just ended up pursing his lips. Walking slowly around the room, he said, “Now why would you need to meditate in the middle of the afternoon?” he drawled. “Having a little trouble concentrating, maybe?”

She had to snap her head around in order to follow his progress as he went on, “Why do I get the feeling I’m not the only one who found that little stint in decon to be so…disturbing?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I am simply finding meditation more difficult lately, so I am adjusting my routine.”

When he didn’t respond, she went on, “It isn’t always easy to find quiet and solitude on a ship of this size.”

He still said nothing, continuing to wander around the room, not even looking at her. Her eyes followed him with every step, however. The more he moved, the more tension betrayed in her voice. “I require this time to refresh myself.”

“Go right ahead.”

“Alone.”

He shook his head slowly, still not looking at her, “Nothing I can do about it. I was in my quarters getting ready to take a shower. You were here first, so obviously, you’re the one who started this…”
“Commander Tucker, this is Simmons in Engineering.” The slightly tinny voice brought him back to his room with a jolt. “We need your assistance, Sir. That last round of repairs has shifted the warp alignment off again.”

“Just great,” he thought, sighing heavily, “It’s going to be a very long night.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 3

Fourteen hours. Damn the Klignons, he was fourteen hours realigning the warp coil. “Who am I kidding?” he thought wearily. “If we’d done the repairs right in the first place, I wouldn’t have spent the last fourteen hours cleaning up mistakes.” He knew he’d been giving less than his best lately. “Dammit, this is why I left in the first place!”

Trip was bone tired, and just wanted to get some rest. Too many sleepless nights and too many days spent constantly on edge were really taking their toll. He shuffled his way over to his bed, working on getting out of his uniform along the way. With a deep sigh, he kicked off his shoes and gave up, laying himself cat-cornered across the bed. “I’ll just lay here for a minute, and then I’ll get undressed,” was the last thought that passed through his brain.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

He was definitely sound asleep. She could tell by the regular, but slightly uneven way his shoulders rose and fell. His bare shoulders. She stood, gazing at him appreciatively. He was on his side, his arm draped over the sheet, curled up slightly in front of him. Even in sleep, the muscles in his shoulders and bicep were taught with tension. She yearned to touch him, to sooth away that tension and watch his face relax the way that it used to.

He shifted slightly, rolling over towards his front. She could see his back now. The muscles were more pronounced than she remembered, rippling with every slight movement as he shifted around. She thought idly that he must have spent a lot of time lately on workouts. It didn’t occur to her to wonder if she was the reason why.

The bed was bigger than it should have been. This wasn’t where he usually slept, of course. No one on board had sheets like those. Their soft sheen reflecting light from an unseen source, first drifting and falling as his chest rose, now disappearing completely only to emerge anew in another spot. Her eyes followed the line of the top seem where it tucked under his arm and slid its way across exposed planes. The soft folds gently caressed several ribs, and snaked downward at his lower back. The inky shade stood out in sharp contrast to the tone of his skin, but mimicked the smoothness. Her fingers itched to touch both of them, to run her fingers along the slick fabric and feel the change in texture as she made her way to dampened skin made moist from exertion. The desire was so strong that she stumbled forward a step.

She was still staring at his back as the imagined sensations coursed through her. Her stare intensified as she spied the far side of the bed, where the sheet had slipped even further than his lower back. Mesmerized, she inched forward, trying to steal a closer look without waking him. She could not quite tell, but she was almost certain that the line of skin was unbroken.

He wasn’t wearing anything under that sheet.

She started to think of the soft satin caressing his skin all over and almost closed her eyes at the sensation of how it would feel on her own skin. She’d moved even closer and was standing close enough to feel his breath drift softly across her hand. She hadn’t been aware that she’d moved at all, let alone that her musings had stirred him as well. He was wide awake.

She only became aware of his changed breathing when he rolled onto his back to see her better. The sheet no longer rose and fell with each breath, though she could hear them coming harder now. The black cloth had fallen further with his movement and hung precariously now, exposing the full expanse of his chest…his stomach…his navel, and on a little further from it’s rim, along the dark trail that ended somewhere just below the hem.

He didn’t say anything.

He didn’t ask why she was there, or comment on what she’d been doing. There was no wry smile or knowing grin. No chastisement in his eyes, either. He wasn’t surprised by her presence, nor even pleased at the way her eyes had explored him. He simply reached for her hand. She was almost certain he’d been expecting her.

“I should go,” she said, too quickly, her voice harsh, surely from lack of use.

“Oh, no. This one is mine, and we are *definitely* going to do this my way.” That said, he grasped her hand as he lifted the top sheet.

She was vaguely aware that any clothing she’d had on had become insubstantial and was just…gone. She didn’t give it a second thought as he brought her down beside him and closed his mouth over hers.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Trip came awake slowly, feeling like he’d gotten the best sleep of his life and no sleep at all at the same time. His mind still fogged with sleep, he rolled over, attempting to snuggle a little closer for that one last minute before he fully awakened. There was no one there.

Sighing he sat up and ran his hand through his hair. It was time to get up anyway. Time to get in the shower, and better make it a cold one this time. It was going to be another very long day.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Chapter 4

Walking to Engineering, Trip tried gamely put aside his dream. They’d finished re-aligning the warp coils last night before he’d left, but he hadn’t finished running all of the simulations to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. At that point, the crew had been at it for so long, he was afraid they’d miss something critical, so he’d left it for the night shift. Before he did anything else, he wanted to make sure there were no more mistakes hanging over him.

Engineering was already humming when Trip arrived. T’Pol had arrived before him, and had clearly gotten the crew started on the day’s agenda. As he approached, she said, “The night crew finished the simulations that you left for them. Everything appears to be running smoothly.”

“Oh, good,” he replied a bit surprised, “I’ll get Jenkins to work on…”

“Ensign Jenkins is re-installing power converters in the port Jeffries tube.”
“Right, re-installing power converters. Great.”

A little at a loss for where to start since she was so far ahead of him, Trip looked around for the next project.

Handing him a data pad, T’Pol began, “I assumed you’d require my assistance in implementing the…”

“Oh, the new data matrix, right,” said Trip, looking at the pad in his hand. They had both moved to the access panel. A tool box stood open next to it, and Trip began rooting around for a spanner.

“I have one,” T’Pol said, moving in closer to put it in place.

Trip nodded his thanks without looking at her. She’d made just enough room for him to get the diagnostic tool connected. He had to snake his arm in between hers to make connection, and realized too late that he wasn’t going to be able to see well enough. Leaving her left hand where it was trapped holding the spanner, T’Pol pulled out a pocket light with her right.

“Thanks,” Trip said, turning to smile at her. She didn’t smile back, of course, but he hadn’t expected she would.

Trip took a deep breath, hoping she wouldn’t know how much her nearness was affecting him. He could smell her hair she was so close to him right now. She’d showered this morning, and smelled of sage and sandalwood. He didn’t actually notice at first, thinking the smell had been with him since he’d awoke. He realized that had to have been his imagination. He’d only thought that unique combination had greeted his senses this morning. Shaking his head a little, Trip turned his concentration back to the task at hand.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“All right, that’s about all we’re gonna’ accomplish here,” Trip said a bit wearily. “Let’s just hope the Orion’s aren’t looking too closely at our main deflector relay. One good hit in the right place and the feedback could blow something.”

“You’re concerned?”

“Aren’t you?” Her raised eyebrow in response told him everything he needed to know. They were on the same page on this one. Making a direct visit to a people who had tried to enslave parts of your crew was not the safest encounter ever tried.

At least things were pretty much back to normal. Repairing the ship after the Klingon sabotage had been stressful at first, but something about being here just felt ‘right.’ The truth was, Trip felt great being back on Enterprise. Just walking into Engineering, “his” Engineering, had put his mind at ease this morning. Hell, not even frequent glares from Kelby was darkening his mood today. There was still a lot to do, but getting things back on track had been easier falling off a log.

It didn’t hurt having T’Pol’s help, either. She always seemed to know exactly when he was going to need her assistance and pitched in just in the right places. It felt so natural, he’d stopped tensing up every time she walked into the room. Maybe he hadn’t been able to escape her by leaving the ship, but it was almost easier seeing her in person that finding her constantly in his daydreams.

Unconsciously, he let out a little sigh.

“Is everything all right?” T’Pol asked, stopping her progress towards the exit.

“Yeah,” he smiled easily, “As long as we don’t run into trouble with the Orions, we can start working on the system-wide diagnostics tomorrow in the ready room.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

When Archer entered the ready room, Trip and T’Pol were still running diagnostics. He bumped into the door slightly on his way in, still a bit woozy, but neither of them seemed to have noticed he was there.

“How’s it coming?” Archer asked.

Trip glance up, and quickly turned his head back to T’Pol, saying “No.” Archer got the distinct impression that he was repeating his side of an ongoing argument. For that matter, the argument must have been going on all day, because every time he saw them, they were snapping at one another.

“We’re running at about 95% right now, Cap’n. There’s still something going on in…” Trip glanced back at his viewscreen, his voice trailing off as his brow furrowed and he furiously punched out a sequence on the screen. “How’s that?” he said without looking up. He handed T’Pol a data report, and took the one she had in her hand.

Trip looked back up at the Captain, his eyes a little wide as if he had forgotten that Archer was there. Just as he opened his mouth, he whipped his head around to glare at T’Pol as she handed back his report. He set it down without looking at it, his attention already back on the screen in front of him.

“I’m saying that I don’t think you configured it properly,” she replied, a bit too loudly.

“What are you talking about,” he said distractedly, “It’s exactly…”

T’Pol glanced over her shoulder, glaring at him.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Tucker yelled, looking back at her.

“I think I’m missing something here,” Archer said, half confused, half amused. He was pretty sure the fuzziness had worn off more than this. “In fact, I’m sure I am. What exactly are you two arguing about?”

“The electromagnetic fluctuations that keep burning out the port nacelle” Trip replied, looking a little unsure about why he was being asked.

“How do you know?,” Archer asked carefully.

Trip and T’Pol looked at each other in confusion, sharing a look that seemed to say maybe the Captain belonged back in sickbay.

Seeing that they really had no idea what he was talking about, Archer said slowly, “You’re not actually saying anything.” His eyes crinkled as he waited for their response. “You’re just shouting back at one another like you’re responding to something, only…no one’s said anything.”

Trip moved his mouth, a bit flabbergasted, saying, “Cap’n, you heard her, she just said that the burnout has nothing to do with Kelby’s sabotage yesterday.”

“Noooo,” Archer replied slowly, “she didn’t.” When Trip stared at him, he went on, “Did *you* hear T’Pol say that?”

Confused, and a bit shocked, he shot a quick glance at T’Pol, seeing she had no more idea than he, Trip looked back at the Captain saying, “Ye-ah…”

“Out loud?”

Trip looked at him open-mouthed for a full five seconds before he swung his head back to T’Pol. He looked deeply into her eyes for a moment, then shook his head as he turned back to the Captain.

“Guess we’ve just been having the same argument so long, I knew what she was going to say,” he told Archer, turning his mouth into a wry smile at the end. Seeing that the Captain was not convinced, he was about to say more when T’Pol cut in.

“Perhaps you were more affected by the Orions than you previously believed. Strong attraction can sometimes have far-reaching effects.”

Trip tried mightily not to roll his eyes as he looked back at her.

“I’m sure that must be it,” the Captain replied, crinkling his eyes again and not looking the least bit convinced. “Carry on.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Chapter 5

It was late when T’Pol entered the mess hall. Most crewmen were in their quarters, many fast asleep by now. The hallways had been blissfully quiet on her way.

She had tried to meditate, but was still just a bit on edge. Nothing to be concerned about, of course, just more restless somehow than she was accustomed to. Certainly it had been nothing more than dining so late. She’d been so late in fact, that she had decided to forgo dessert, as she was the last one to leave and didn’t want the cleanup crew to stay later than necessary. There had been one slice of pie left when she’d gone to her quarters over two hours ago.

Heading directly for the case, she peered in expectantly.

“If you’re looking for the pecan, the last slice is gone,” a voice from behind her called with amusement.

She hadn’t seen him when she’d walked in, so intent was she on her quest. T’Pol turned to Trip, knowing before she did that he was eying her with an enormously pleased look on his face.

“Don’t go glaring now, or I won’t be nice and offer to share,” he said, hiding another grin by taking a bite. True to his word, he had pushed the plate halfway between himself and the chair to his right. Without comment, T’Pol picked up a fork and joined him.

Seating herself gingerly and trying not to appear too eager, she said, “It appears I’m not the only one up late this evening.”

“Aww, c’mon,” he replied, pursing his lips at her, “Don’t pretend you didn’t come all the way down here just because you’ve been craving this slice of pie since dinner.” He winked at her then, saying, “I wasn’t really all that hungry, but for some reason, I just couldn’t get pecan pie out of my head tonight.” He finished by biting down on a forkful, laughing at the same time.

“You’re saying that you’re here on my account?” His only response was a bigger grin.

She tried to ignore him and helped herself to a small bite, wishing instantly that she had brought something to wash it down with. Her lips pursed slightly in what might have been a grimace from someone else.

“Bad taste?”

“In companions?” she responded, causing Trip to grin hugely. Whether it was at another failed attempt at humor or his knowledge that she regretted the unconscious effort, she wasn’t sure.

“I think you’re getting better,” he said, tongue literally in cheek in his way that showed more mirth than it hid. Eyes back on the table, he took another large forkful from the plate. As the bite disappeared, T’Pol remembered again how thirsty she was.

“Well, it’s…hang on,” he said getting up, “Chamomile?” T’Pol nodded as he walked to the beverage dispenser and returned with a steaming cup
It’s only fair after all, an even trade. I pick up unusual physiology traits from you, and you pick up…”

“Bad jokes.”

He grinned again.

“I fail to see how empathy for your… sense of humor can be considered an even trade.

Backing off on his teasing just a little, Trip responded placatingly, “I just mean that I’m picking up some of your stronger personality traits and you’re getting mine…It’s not my fault if being devilishly clever and charming to boot are my best features.”

T’Pol responded with a skeptical raise of an eyebrow. In order to avoid a more distinct response, she took another bite of the pie. Shifting slightly to better reach the plate, her knee inadvertently brushed his. She was almost certain she’d heard a small intake of breath, but by the time she’d suddenly looked up, the Commander was overcome by a sudden fit of coughing.

He stood suddenly, smacking his lips, and went to the beverage dispenser for some coffee. Regaining his composure, Trip looked wryly at T’Pol, her usual mask in place, if just a bit too composed. As he sat back down, T’Pol continued to stare at nothing near his shoulder, her eyebrows rising in concert with the cup she brought to her lips.

Watching her studiously ignoring him, Trip’s mind started working. Then he got an idea. A sneaky idea. Trip got a devious, sneaky idea. Shifting himself to face her more fully, Trip moved to the side just a bit and stretched out his legs. In the process, his foot glanced every so slightly along the back of her heel. T’Pol jerked, breaking the contact.

“Sorry,” he said smoothly, “did I kick you?” His mouth flattened in a polite smile, while his eyes held hers. He looked at her innocently, and slowly took another bite of pie.

Unconsciously, T’Pol liked her lips.

She shifted her legs away a little, but at the same moment, Trip crossed his, and their feet tangled in passing. Before she could apologize, Trip said nonchalantly, “What’s the story with this M-Class we’re heading to?”

Grasping quickly to the new subject, T’Pol replied, “The planet is called Gohran. It’s people, the Gonawi, have requested the assistance of Vulcan in repairing their primary power grid.”

“A planet-wide power system,” he said musingly. “Sounds like quite a hefty project. He was staring at nothing, as though deep in thought. As he seemed to consider the ramifications of the job, his foot slowly began to flick back and forth. At each pass, it made a slow rub against T’Pol’s calf. She barely noticed. As Trip outlined his expectations of the system’s specifications, he pulled thoughtfully on his bottom lip. Every so often, he slowly ran the pad of his thumb along its fleshy inside.

“Don’t you think?” he said, stopping his movements and looking directly at her.

“Excuse me?” she asked, nonplussed.

“I said, it’s a little odd for the Vulcans to ask us to stop by for them.”

He dropped his eyes away from hers as she answered hesitantly, “They…they don’t have any ships in the quadrant right now, and I understand there’s some urgency, as entire planet relies in some measure…” her voice drifted off as his foot took up its lazy tapping again, this time never quite losing contact with her. She’d nearly lost her train of thought completely, when she glanced up to see a quick smirk play across Trip’s lips. He wasn’t looking at her and didn’t notice she’d seen him.

T’Pol nearly raised an eyebrow at him, but thought better of it. Several of their encounters over the last few days drifted through her thoughts as she realized Trip was taking great satisfaction in teasing her.

She moved forward slightly as she leaned onto the table, shortening the distance between herself and her fellow officer. His foot had not lost contact with her left leg, but she crossed her right knee over the left, bringing her own foot in contact with Trip. Slowly, deliberately, she flexed her foot, drifting the instep of her soft shoe up Trip’s calf.

He took a sip of coffee.

Her voice became a little softer as she said, “Vulcan has come to rely rather heavily on our friendship with Earth.” Lazily, her foot made the return trip, “It’s true that we still don’t always agree, but certainly Starfleet has gained the respect of the High Council over the last few years. It is not unprecedented for them to ask for Enterprise’s assistance.” She leaned over and slowly took the last bite of pie into her mouth, removing the fork with infinite care before she set it down.

Trip watched as the morsel passed her lips, as the utensil slowly worked its way past her mouth and back out. He was pretty sure he was supposed to respond in some way, but just then, T’Pol’s calf brushed against his.

“Um.”

“Thank you for sharing with me,” T’Pol said. She seemed to be a bit entangled in her chair, and had to lean forward heavily on the table as she extricated herself. Trip glanced up to see if she needed help, just as her torso passed his field of vision. She had leaned in even more, her breasts mere inches from his face. As she straightened, she said quietly, “Goodnight.” Before Trip could remember a suitable reply, she was gone. He sat a little stunned before a slow smile crept across his lips. He took another thoughtful sip of coffee before gathering up their dishes and returning to his quarters.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

She took a deep breath and started again. Carefully, she concentrated on the flame in front of her. She pushed aside how long it had been since she’d even needed the flame to focus. She stared at the flame again. As she watched, it moved in a dancing pattern, the light flickering now and again as though with humor. She pushed aside thoughts of light dancing in laughing eyes. Taking a deep breath, she stared at the candle again…

The chime of her door sounded. T’Pol was resigned when she responded, “Come in.” She schooled her features, trying to looks as though she’d been deep in concentration.

“Who do ya’ think you’re fooling?” he said without preamble.

T’Pol blinked at the not unexpected apparition also known as Commander Tucker. The door slid quietly shut behind him as she worked up a baleful glare to shoot at him.

“Can we just skip right past the part where you tell me you have no idea what I’m talking about?” he went on, “You’re keeping me up.”

“Excuse me?” she replied, trying to grasp on to the conversation.

“You’re having trouble sleeping, right?” T’Pol sat up straighter, her eyes avoiding his. “Every time I just about drift off, you start tossing and turning again and wake me back up.”

“Have you come to lodge a formal complaint, or simply to revel in my discomfort?”

Trip grinned for the first time since walking through the door and sat down opposite her. “See, you *are* getting better all the time,” he said with a wink. T’Pol did glare at him, then.

“I’m sorry,” he said, though his smile widened and he didn’t look the least bit repentant. “I thought I’d come down and give both of us some relief.”

T’Pol raised an eyebrow at his comment, though she knew he hadn’t meant it the way that it sounded.

His smile turned into a wry smirk and he said, “I meant with neuro-pressure.” He knew she knew what he’d meant, but all the same, her face relaxed when he said it. “I know it’s been a while, but I think I can get back up to speed pretty quickly. I’ve kept up my breathing.”

T’Pol looked at the floor. She was trying not to look like she was considering the offer, nor surprised that he’d been practicing. He knew her too well to miss the subtle signs, though. He was just thinking that he could read her like a book when she look up sharply and narrowed her eyes slightly. Trips eyes widened in feigned innocence. “Hey, if you don’t think you’re up for it, that’s fine. “

“I’ve studied Vulcan neuro-pressure for many years,” she replied, her voice tensing slightly, “I don’t require any special preparation.”

“Great,” he replied, the grin returning, “What are we waiting for?”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
They had moved quickly through less challenging positions quickly. Trip had been telling the truth, he had been keeping up his breathing. However, he wasn’t entirely honest about why he was there. When they’d started, he was even more tense than she.

Trip let out a deep satisfied breath that came out just short of a moan. “I’ve missed these sessions,” he said languidly into his folded arms. His voice was muffled, but she’d understood him. She said nothing in return.

“We should start moving into the more challenging positions. Sit up.” As he sat up, she slowly guided him back down so that his head rested just in front of her bent knees. He gazed up at her, but she wasn’t looking at him.

“Okay,” he said quietly.

“Okay?” she replied, looking down.

“Okay, I confess,” he said holding her eyes with his. “I’ve missed you, too.”

She said nothing again, merely nodding slightly. He could see how her face softened, though. T’Pol stretched her arms forward, splaying her fingers low on each side of Trip’s rib cage. She leaned forward.

He took a deep breath expectantly, but not in preparation for the position. As she leaned over him, her short sleeping top hung straight down, pulling slowly away from her body the more she moved. Trip was still looking up. As had happened before, he was treated to a private viewing of her spectacular breasts. Usually, the gentleman in him convinced him to look away after a short time. He didn’t even try to deny himself the pleasure this time.

T’Pol sat back before the posture was complete. “Have you always been able to do that?” she asked. She didn’t look displeased, or at least not angry. She was more speculative, he thought, and maybe a little intrigued.

“Yes,” he said quietly, stroking his hand slowly up her bare arms to clasp her biceps in a simple posture. Still looking into his eyes, she did the same, and they breathed together.

At her guidance, Trip pulled himself into a sitting position and then leaned forward onto his hands. From behind him, he felt T’Pol’s torso meld into his back as she wrapped her arms across him, pressing her fingers deep into opposing sides. He took a deep breath and held it as the now familiar sensation moved liquidly through him. Slowly, he let it out again.

T’Pol had already started to move in front of him as Trip sat up straight again. They both moved to a kneeling position, knees barely touching. Trip reached out and behind her, hands moving to her back. They dipped underneath the hem of her top and stroked slowly up her back until they came to rest just under her shoulder blades. He waited until her own hands were position on his bare back before pressing down lightly, pulling her forward with the pressure.

Both of their backs bent slightly as their bodies moved closer together. As one, they bowed their heads, resting foreheads against shoulders. Before she could take her breath, Trip moved his lips over the curve in her neck. He trailed several soft, slow kisses along the curve and on up, before returning to her shoulder. As one, they breathed in deeply.

They raised their heads and T’Pol started to move back from him and from the thoughts stirring in his mind.

He chuckled low in his throat, held onto her hands and said quietly, “What are we going to do?”

“About what?” she replied, feigning confusion to gain more time.

He tilted his head ironically and said, “You know. This connection isn’t going away. In fact, it’s getting stronger. What’s going to happen if one of us wants to get married?”

She pulled away from him, and he sighed. Frustration was starting to build up in him. Seeing that he misunderstood her gesture, T’Pol said quickly, “I haven’t told you everything.”

“Oh, this should be good,” he said wryly, moving back into a sitting position. He was already beginning to glare.

Ignoring his quickly changing mood, T’Pol settled herself more comfortably and went on, “It is not merely mating that creates a psychic connection. They key element is the Vulcan marriage ceremony. When one is thinking exclusively of the intended partner, a deep initial connection is formed.

“So now this is my fault,” he shot at her, exasperated. He didn’t bother to tell her
that he’d thought of nothing but her during her wedding to Koss. It would have been obvious to any outside observer.

“There are a number of steps leading up to the Bond including a great deal of time spent in one another’s company. A certain amount of predisposition, and eventually a physical joining.”

Trip was rapidly losing his cool. “What are you saying, we’ve got to get married, now?”

“I’m saying that by Vulcan standards, we already are.”

Trip sat in stunned silence for a moment before saying, “Well, how do we get divorced?”

He knew her well enough to see her ire.

He rolled his eyes at his ability to put his foot in his mouth and backpeddled for all he was worth. “I only meant that I wouldn’t want you to be stuck with me forever just because I couldn’t help loving you and messed up your wedding ceremony. I mean, you were able to break it off with Koss.” He stared back at his hands as he said, “And I know how much loyalty to Vulcan and to your family means to you.”

Her features softened almost imperceptibly, but they spoke volumes to him. “My mother was somewhat fond of you.” He looked a little confused, so she explained, “Before my mother’s death, we shared a mind meld.”

“That thing you did with Hoshi?”

“Yes. It was brief, but I was able to see some of her thoughts.” She didn’t look at him as she said, “as well as some of her memories.” Trip gulped a little, remembering his last conversation with her mother.

Not noticing his discomfort, T’Pol continued, “Koss and I participated in the ceremony in name only. No bond was formed.” Seeing that he still didn’t understand, she went on, “It takes concentration from both parties in order for the connection to be made,” she said quietly, “but the bond is permanent.”

He probably should have been surprised by that. Worried, confused, maybe a little freaked, but he wasn’t. It simply felt like everything in his life had suddenly clicked into place. All the dancing around they’d done since he’d come back, since they left dry dock in the first place, all seemed a little ridiculous.

“Look, T’Pol, I’m…I’m tired of pretending.” He looked up at her before going on, “Hell, it’s not like I can really hide anything from you any more anyway.” She opened her mouth to speak, but he interrupted her, “I know, I know, Vulcans don’t feel emotions.” He stared back down at her hands, his words coming out in a confused rush, “at least not like humans do, or maybe you don’t really have them at all, that’s to say…” She opened her mouth again, but he went on, “What I’m trying to say is it doesn’t matter. I don’t know when or how or why it happened, but I fell in love with you. Bond or not, that’s not going away.

When she tried one last time to speak, Trip covered her mouth with his. He broke contact as they both rose, but his hand snaked forward to stroke the back of her neck. He kissed her again, drawing her with him towards the bed.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

(Author’s note: Apologies to Dr. Seuss and the Grinch for mangling their line. I just couldn’t resist putting it there..)

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Chapter 6 – Pon Farr

“Let go of me!” she screamed again. The sounds ripping from her throat had more in common with a trapped animal than the dulcet tones the crew was accustomed to from their resident Vulcan. A crash reverberated throughout the room as another crewman was thrown across it and into a nearby cart

“Grab her arms!” the Captain shouted, catching an uppercut to the chin from a flailing fist. He shook his head to stay in focus, but managed to keep holding her down.

Phlox jotted over quickly, still filing the hypo-spray as he moved. A crewman once again had T’Pol’s free arm under control, so that he was able to safely inject her neck. He sighed deeply when moments later, her eyes rolled back in her head and she was once again sedated.

The four crewmembers on the floor sat back collectively to catch their breath, but were soon rising to their feet. Leaning on the warped gurney, Archer fingered a broken wrist strap. Breathing heavily, he said, “I thought you said you had her well under control this time.

Phlox looked a bit contrite as he stared down at the hypo-spray. “I’m sorry, Captain.” The unjust criticism obviously rankled, because he looked up before going on. “The sedative is becoming less effective,” he said with just a bit too much enunciation. “I keep increasing the dosage, but her body is fighting it off more quickly each time.”
“How long do we have this time?”

“I can’t be certain.” Seeing that the Captain was about to tell him to make an educated guess, Phlox cut him off, drawing out his words in frustration. “Under normal circumstances, a dose of this size would be enough to keep a full grown Vulcan tranquilized for several hours. Based on her increasing rate of recovery I’d say we have less than an hour.”

The Captain threw his head back in frustration, so the Doctor went on, “I am sorry, Captain. The Pon Farr compulsion is extremely powerful. Commander T’Pol has been admirable in her attempts to control its onset through meditation these past three weeks, but in the end, there *is* only one true cure.”

“And you’re convinced that it has to be Trip.”

“You know that I can’t break doctor-patient privilege, Captain, but I have reason to believe that T’Pol would concur…if she were conscious,” he ended, slightly under his breath.

“He’s working on a planet-wide system, and they haven’t had their communications grid online for the last week! How in the Hell are we even supposed to find him?” Archer nearly shouted, running a hand through his hair.

Phlox was a little amused if somewhat enigmatic when he said, “Oh, I have no doubt. Commander Tucker will find us.”

Archer thought about trying to puzzle out the doctor’s comment but decided against it. He stalked across the room and turned at the doorway. “Move her back to Decon…And let me know if there’s any change.”

“I will, Captain,” Phlox said pleasantly.

Turning with a smile to the remaining crew, he said, “Well, then. Anyone else need a bone to be set?” Seeing a timid hand go up across the room, he intoned “Ah!” quietly and got to work patching everyone up.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
“Bridge to the Captain,” Travis said over the intercom, “We’re coming up on Gohran.”

“Drop out of warp,” he replied, jabbing the transmit button.

He was on the bridge just as the planet came into view.

“Captain,” said Hoshi, “there’s a shuttle craft approaching.” He turned to her, and she said, “They’re hailing us…it’s Commander Tucker.”

“Put him through.”

“’Bout time you guys got here,” Tucker’s disembodied voice said. “Anything happening that I should know about?” He sounded like his usual teasing self, but his words were terse.

“Why do I get the feeling that you know about as much as I do?” the Captain said. “Permission to dock in landing bay 2.”

“Understood.”

“Beam him to sickbay as soon as he’s aboard.”

“Aye-aye, Sir,” Reed replied. A moment later he nodded in response to Archer’s silent question.

“Captain, to sick bay. Phlox, I’m sending Commander Tucker to you now. I want him cleared for pathogens as quickly as you can. What’s the status with Commander T’Pol, is she awake?”

“I’m afraid Commander T’Pol is no longer in Decon, Captain…Unfortunately, one of the crew was about to give her another tranquilizer just as the shuttle arrived. She awakened immediately and had no difficulty in overpowering her guard.”

“Commander Tucker?”

“Has arrived,” Phlox finished, “and is being scanned now.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
He could hear the shouts as soon as he walked into sickbay. They were muffled by the thick walls of the decon chamber, so the words were indistinct. Probably a good thing, Archer thought to himself. It sounds like he’s cursing a blue streak in there.

“Just one more minute,” Phlox said as he opened the view portal.

“Phlox, I swear to God, if you don’t let me out of here…” the rest of his threat was cut off as the portal closed.

Seeing the Captain, Phlox indicated that Trip was clear. Wordlessly, Archer nodded to let him out.

Trip stalked into the room, eyes flashing. He looked about as if searching for something before he crossed the room, eyes narrowing and lip curling. Seeing the Captain in front of him, he made a beeline for his old friend, but his face looked less than friendly.

He grabbed at the collar of the Captain’s uniform “Where is she?” he asked, his voice a menacing growl.

They were interrupted by the intercom. “Reed to the Captain. The MACOs have picked up T’Pol on your deck. They’ve fired a low stun, but it’s having little effect.”

“Understood,” he responded, pulling himself away from the Commander.

Dr. Phlox tried to bring Trip up to speed. “Commander Tucker, you’re experiencing…”

“Save it, Doc, I got it. Just clear the corridors between here and my quarters.” His voice was gruff from shouting, and his breath was quickening.

“How are we supposed to convince T’Pol to head back in this direction?” Archer asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

They heard firing some distance down the hallway as an impatient Trip opened the sickbay doors.

“Don’t worry about that, Cap’n.,” his brows lowering, and his eyes shifting back and forth as if seeking out prey. “She’s already on her way.”

“Hold your fire,” the Captain shouted into the intercom. “Stand down and clear all corridors on this deck.”

A guttural shout came from the same direction as the blaster fire.

“Hey, T’Pol!” Trip shouted, “I’ll bet you run as slow as you think!” Not waiting for a reply, he took off for his quarters. An in human roar was heard from the opposite direction. Seconds later, T’Pol emerged at a run.

She was moving fast, but was bent double as if in pain. She spared them a glare as she passed, but didn’t stop.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
He reached the doorway just seconds before her, and had just enough time to open the door before she jumped him, knocking both of them back into the room. He pushed her back, his breath coming in deep rasps, and said with an evil grin, “Hi, honey. I’m home.” Excitement made him bite off the words so they sounded more like a threat than a greeting, but T’Pol didn’t seem to notice.

With a growl, her hands clawed at his shoulders. She pulled him down, locking her lips onto his in a bruising kiss, her hands pulling at his uniform. He tried to unzip it, but she had already ripped the tunic open and was running sharp nails back and forth over his exposed torso.

Trying to regain the advantage, Trip tried to maneuver them somewhere, anywhere, but the middle of the room. He was trying to guide them towards the bed, but she was beyond reasoning and fought every attempt to move.

A loud tearing sound informed him that he’d have to see the Quartermaster about getting a new uniform. She was almost uncontrollable now, her mouth desperately seeking every inch of flesh she could find, her hands ripping and pulling at fabric. In the end, Trip gave her a none-too-delicate shove towards the closest piece of furniture. It happened to be his desk. Her head thumped against the cabinets, but she didn’t seem to notice.

Trip was almost beyond thinking himself. Her hands were still moving quickly, grasping, seeking, and trailed behind by hungry kisses. With what little concentration he had left, he fumbled for the zipper of her catsuit and pulled it down, followed quickly by folds of fabric. As nails streaked mercilessly across his lower back, his last conscious thought was that he was going to have an awful lot of explaining to do in the morning.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
“A broken clavicle…three cracked ribs…multiple contusions…and a bloody nose! And that’s just one crewman!” The captain shouted, still pacing as he’d been doing for the last ten minutes. “Not to mention that *both* of my senior officers have suffered multiple injuries and should be on bed rest for the next two days.

T’Pol said nothing, and Trip looked down at his sprained wrist, neatly wrapped in bandages.

“In the Commanders’ defense, Captain, they were hardly in a position to act differently. While there is very little data available on the Vulcan Pon Farr, what there is clearly indicates a certain…instinctual response that’s near impossible to control.”

“Surak’s memories are a little indistinct when it comes to this subject, but I still have enough of them to get the gist. If memory serves, there’s no such compulsion in Vulcan females. Besides, isn’t there supposed to be some sort of…agreement in place ahead of time?”

T’Pol opened her mouth to refute the Captain’s claims, but Phlox stepped in before her,”Well, it’s something of an unusual situation, Captain. Human…urges work quite differently than Vulcan. I’m certain that Commander Tucker’s hormonal influence would have significant impact upon T’Pol’s physiognomy.”

“Which still doesn’t explain how Commander Tucker could have any influence like this over a fellow officer! I’m not usually this slow when it comes to my ship and my crew, but I’m getting the distinct impression that something’s been going on for quite a while now!” he said, ending in a shout.

Trip glanced up at the Captain, gulped, looked at T’Pol and went back to staring at the floor.

“I’m afraid that I was partially to blame for that, Captain.” Phlox said, a little embarrassed. “I thought that I was helping Commander Tucker with his sleeping problem by suggesting the Vulcan neuro-pressure sessions. I should have realized that their rather…intimate nature could have long reaching effects.”

“It’s not that,” Trip cut in, looking at his long time friend with a heavy sigh. “Sure they helped…change things between us, but I…” he glanced over at T’Pol before going on, “I started falling for T’Pol almost from the moment she came on board.”

“I, too, should accept some of the blame,” T’Pol said, holding Trip’s gaze briefly. “Certainly my experiences aboard Enterprise have been…unique in comparison with other Vulcans. However, the connection between Commander Tucker and myself could not have been made without my full cooperation. Without it, this…situation should never have occurred.”

“Maybe you’d better explain yourself,” Archer said, beginning to calm down.

T’Pol’s eyes dropped to the floor. She knew that she would have to reveal much in order to explain their actions. Her Vulcan sense of decorum railed against the need to shoulder her blame. She began slowly, “There have been a number of …incidents that have contributed to something of a…change in my character. Our experiences in the Expanse, for instance affected me in…ways I was not prepared for. I was forever changed by…” her voice trailed off as she raised her head and her eyes met Trip’s. He was simply looking at her. Not berating her, not waiting for a confession, just looking. Even so, she would not imply that her actions were not of her own doing. “Regardless of the reasons, I am as much at fault as Commander Tucker in the formation of our Bond. Had I not been thinking of him during my marriage ceremony, this could never have happened.

“I think you’d better back up a bit,” Archer said uneasily.

“As you know,” T’Pol said carefully, “Commander Tucker was present at my marriage ceremony. The ceremony is centuries old and has been passed down by tradition in exactly the same manner.”

“I remember,” the Captain said slowly.

“You may or may not be aware of the tradition surrounding the ceremony.”

“As I recall, its purpose is to form a strong connection between the couple.”

T’Pol nodded slowly, “Tradition says that the ceremony ‘makes two into one’. It is believed that a direct link is formed in the process. The tradition of living together for the first year is intended to strengthen this connection, so that when the couple…eventually mates…It is believed that a permanent psychological Bond is formed.”

“And you didn’t even have a chance to…mate with Koss before you dissolved your marriage.”

“No, but Commander Tucker and I had already had…,” she glanced quickly at Trip to see his reaction, ”relations.”

“So, you became Bonded to him instead,” Archer said. They both nodded.

“Is this common in Vulcan marriages?” Phlox asked.

“No,” Archer answered for her, “It’s rare enough to form a bond so strong that there’s a psychic link. Even in Surak’s time Bonding to the wrong person was almost unheard of.” Trip and T’Pol didn’t look at each other, merely hanging their heads.

T’Pol said quietly, “There were some cases before Vulcans learned to suppress their emotions. In each of them, there was a high degree of emotional attachment.”

“Meaning?” Archer said.

Phlox interjected into the silence, saying quietly, “I believe she means love, Captain. Vulcan emotions are quite severe before they’re suppressed. Under the circumstances, both parties would have to love each other very much before such an outcome could take place.”

“Yes,” T’Pol said simply. She looked again at Trip. For the first time, his eyes were unguarded as he looked at her. She felt a slight catch in her throat at the raw emotion she saw there. Ignoring everyone else in the room, he looked deep into her eyes, into her soul, and smiled.

“How often are we going to have to go through this?” the Captain said, not quite ready to stop being annoyed.

“Given the unusual circumstance of human influence and the rather extended period of time that Commander Tucker was away, I would say most likely…” he caught a glare from the Captain, “I would say…never.” The Captain was taken aback and Phlox went on, “I wouldn’t recommend separating them for any extended period of time for a while, but there’s no reason to expect any sort of, uh, repeat performance.”

“But Vulcans go through Pon Farr like this every seven years.”

“Vulcans males do, yes, but human males are a bit more, uh, indiscriminate, shall we say? I think that given time, Commander Tucker and Commander T’Pol will be able to…make the most of their differing physiognomies.”

He beamed at them pleasantly. Neither of them seemed to notice. Trip had reached out with his good hand and was holding hers gently. He gazed at her, and she looked up at him through her lashes, almost shyly.

Finally convinced that he was not about to have to lock up his first officer on a regular basis, Archer relented. “It seems like we’re all going to have a few things to get used to.

Trip looked up at his old friend, expecting further reprimand. John’s face was still stern, but there was a definite teasing glint in his eyes as he said, “I ought to make you be the one to report this to Starfleet.”

“Cap’n?”

“You don’t think they’re going to just grant dispensation without some idea of the special circumstances, do you?” He grinned then, taking in Trip’s wry smile as he glanced up shyly at T’Pol. Seeing her face remain impassive, just made Archer smile even more. Yes, indeed, his friends’ life had turned out differently than either of them could possibly have imagined. Even so, he’d never seen him happier.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Authors note: Thanks to TPTB for their nod to female pon farr and making it possible for me to put this section back in. I thought it was strictly a male Vulcan thing, but apparently, at least in a parallel universe, that’s not the case.

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

this was really good. i had a bit of trouble with the time jumps, at first, but in the end, your characterization/dialogue was so right on and also so intriguing that i very quickly did not care about how much time had passed. this one i will definately reread. yay!

I thoroughly enjoyed your take on the bond and also how Trip's "urges" might affect T'Pol... that it would be his desires that would induce the blood fever! Very intriguing concept.

I would love to see a sequel on this one... But first I need take a cold shower! Wow, that was intense... especially the scene in the galley!

awesome!!!

Hey - great story.
I liked T'Pol goin apeshit, macos goin after her, Trip losing his mind and grabbing Archer by the collar

I believe the misunderstanding that Pon Farr is only experienced by Vulcan males comes from Search for Spock...Lt. Saavik says pon farr is a powerful mating drive experienced by all Vulcan males every 7 years...But she's already talking about Spock and explaining it to David at the time, so it doesn't mean that she's implying females DONT.

The emphasis was on ALL vulcan males, not all vulcan MALES :D (IMHO of course)

Hi - This was such fun to read! I was confused a little by the shifts between chapters, but I think it all makes sense now.

Seems like T'Pol's pon farr brought out a bit of MU-Trip! Absolutely loved Trip growling at the Cap'n; taunting T'Pol (like she wasn't making a hormonal beeline his way anyhow...); and the Phlox-assisted declaration of love. Fun and sweet - kudos!

This was a LOT of fun and surprisingly well written! I loved the sexy scenes between the two of them, particuarly the mess hall and the meditation /neuropressure session.

I howled at some of the lines; did you intend to write a comedy??? LOL!!!

I enjoyed this story a lot. :) I had a couple of confusing moments with the time shifts but other than that it was great!

I especially thought this line was perfect: "Oh, no. This one is mine, and we are *definitely* going to do this my way."

How fun is that? :)

took me a while to read it but well good. well good.

Great story! My favorite line was "Hi, honey, I'm home." LOL, so Trip and so perfect.

I'm so glad you guys liked it and the mess hall scene came off right! I was afraid it came off like I was trying too hard.

And, yes, the comedy was probably intentional. I can't actually right anything completely straight, even if my life depended on it.

I'm sorry the shifts were so rough. I think I was trying to squeeze in so much that I missed that it jumped around too much.

Anyway, I'm glad everyone's enjoying it :)

Nice job.....Really loved the Pon Farr romp....Excillent....T.