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Symphony

Author - T'Leela | Genre - Angst | Main Story | Rating - PG-13 | S
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Symphony

By T'Leela

Rating:PG-13
Genre: Angst
Summary: An addition to "Home." After her wedding to Koss, T’Pol spends two weeks on Vulcan with only her thoughts for company.

Thanks as ever to Ludjin.


*********************************************************************************

I remember the first time his hands touched me.

We stood in the chamber, blue light washing over us, as my heart raced in anxiety I could not show. I had never had physical contact with a human before.

I was antagonized and confused by his brash, impertinent demeanor; I somewhat expected his touch to be similarly abrasive. Instead, as he rubbed the gel into my neck and back, I found his hands were strong but still gentle, roughened from a lifetime of manual labor yet graceful and precise.

It was the first of many misjudgments I was to make regarding this human.

From that day on, I was fascinated by his hands. As we worked together, I had countless hours to study them as they worked so nimbly on the machinery he loved. Even as my feelings for him grew muddied and confused, I could always admire his hands for their beauty, their strength, their skill.

His palms are broad, his fingers long and square. They are not delicate, but in motion they are elegant, sure of themselves. In contrast to his volatile demeanor, his hands do not know impatience. They do not know frustration. They do not know doubt.

I have often wondered what else he would have been if not for his devotion to engineering. Maybe a surgeon. Or a sculptor.

Perhaps would have become a conductor, coaxing swirling eddies of music into the night air with the power and talent of his hands.

The countless tiny scars do not mar their beauty; they are a testament to his dedication and tenacity. Physical discomfort does not keep him from his appointed tasks; burns and abrasions are so routine to him, he does not even notice them anymore. They are badges of his courage.

Several weeks ago, he received a plasma burn across the base of this thumb. Two days after the injury, hungry for his touch, I behaved recklessly. I inquired as to the condition of his thumb and used the pretense to take his hand in mine.

I gently examined the area around the burn. "You have remarkable powers of recovery, Commander."

He shrugged and gave that odd little smile--a smile that he seemed to save only for me. "It's this stuff I use--comes in a green tin, some kind of cream, I guess. Secret remedy of warp engineers everywhere. I never leave spacedock without it."

"Indeed," I said. "You should share this fascinating concoction with Dr. Phlox." My fingers were closed over his palm, callused yet soft, dry and cool compared to the heat of my own.

"Maybe I should," he said, his voice softer. He did not pull away; nor did I for several long moments, until the beeping of a completed diagnostic ended my reverie and I remembered myself. I broke the contact and turned away, feeling his eyes on me, sure his face held the puzzled yet faintly bemused look I know so well.

That night, his fingertips danced across my skin, seeking out neural nodes and applying just the right amount of pressure. He took naturally to the ancient Vulcan discipline, displaying skill and dexterity that amazed me. He was an enthusiastic learner, memorizing every centimeter of body as thoroughly as the engines he loves.

And later, holding my hips as I straddled him, he showed me how to move as one with him.

My greatest fear is that he will never touch me again.

***

My two weeks here are almost at an end. I chose this retreat in order to meditate, to calm my thoughts, to accept the path I must choose in order to honor my family and my Vulcan heritage.

I have found no serenity here, however. There are no answers within these gray-stone walls. The only answer lies within myself.

The truth is that I came here to avoid my husband.

When we knelt in the sacred circle and Koss touched my hand, it took every shred of my will not to recoil in revulsion. His touch was limp, flabby. His hands have never built anything. His hands have never been graceful or certain. His hands were...repulsive.

In that moment I knew I would barricade myself in the most remote Vulcan monastery and die shriveled and alone before I ever let Koss' hands touch my body.

Right or wrong, I am meant for another.

Before I retire I will burn this scroll, keeping these confessions locked tightly inside my heart. Then I will lie down for the evening and feel the endless ache, a hole in the very center of my being.

I will remember the feel of his body wrapped around me, his hands holding me tight and safe. His voice, sleepy in the dark.

"I've got ya, darlin', and I'll never let ya go."

Soothed by the memory, perhaps I will be able to sleep.


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A whole mess of folks have made comments

Nice, really nice!!

Absolutely brilliant. I loved this to itty bitty little pieces. It felt so true and my heart was aching for T'Pol and her mixed up contrary ways, struggling with both her Vulcan duty and heritage and her burgeoning feelings for one very charming and distracting engineer. Duty pulling her one way, her heart another. Ali D :~)

Absolutely brilliant. I loved this to itty bitty little pieces. It felt so true and my heart was aching for T'Pol and her mixed up contrary ways, struggling with both her Vulcan duty and heritage and her burgeoning feelings for one very charming and distracting engineer. Duty pulling her one way, her heart another. Ali D :~)

Marvelous!

So good! Like your writing style. Keep it comin'!

Brilliant!!!

Brilliant!

Ahhhh *sigh* ....nice. I really enjoy your writing. I'm eagerly awaiting the next installment of Tempis Fugit :)))

good story, im also enjoying Tempis Fugit. but is it me, or is no one sending in stories anymore? is T&T dying? or is everyone on a holiday break and am i overreacting?

Oooh! Lovely. Very nice voice for T'pol, just the right mix of logic and longing. You do good work. Thanks.

beautiful... it's just how i imagine T'Pol would voice her thoughts about all that had happened in that traumatic time of her life.

soo beautiful! More of those please :-)

Awwww. Thatīs our TīPol. Sounds SO real! Beautiful!

I absolutely love everything you've done so far and am anxiously awaiting more TF chapters. You've got a great ear for T'Pol and your writing style is captivating. Makes me wish I had a tenth the talent!

Beautiful and evocative - you are a talented writer.

heartbreaking and lovely

Wow! Very evocative. Very powerful.

I guess somehow T'Pol neglected to burn the scroll, because somebody found it and posted it on the Internet for all to see!