The Gift

The Gift

By T’Leela

Rating: R
Genre: Angst, Romance
Disclaimers: Characters belong to Paramount, more's the pity. Don't sue me, I can't even pay my phone bill.
Summary: Trip and T'Pol find solace in the wake of Elizabeth's death.
Spoilers: “Terra Prime”

Vulcan phrases taken from the Vulcan Language Institute:
http://home.teleport.com/~vli/vlif.htm

A million thanks to Ludjin and tjinloca, my gorgeous and talented betas.

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Elizabeth was sleeping.

Her tiny body was nestled safely in the crook of her father's uninjured arm. T'Pol's rested her hand gently on the side of the baby's round, cherubic face as she marveled at the beauty of their daughter. Elizabeth's eyes were closed, fringed with long lashes that brushed her pudgy cheeks. Her rosebud lips were turned up in a tiny contented smile, as if she was having the most delicious dream.

She was so perfectly peaceful.

And so terribly still.

T'Pol's mind shoved away the horrifying truth.

She's only sleeping.

She felt the tiny sparkling bubble of Elizabeth's katra fade away. She felt Trip's sorrow and grief rip through him like a rusty blade.

No.

She would not believe. She could not believe. Believing would make it true.

"NO."

T'Pol closed her eyes and willed herself away.

For a long time she floated alone, in a dark, cold numbness.

***

"You can't stay here, T'Pol."

T'Pol opened her eyes.

They sat on a brightly embroidered blanket spread on a flat outcropping of rust-colored rocks. Gray and gold Vulcan grasses grew in the meadow spread out before them. The suns were setting, and the air was beginning to take on the cool of evening. Far in the distance, Mt. Seleya loomed, dark and forbidding.

Trip sat next to her, picking apart a piece of grass as he gazed into the distance. His sad eyes were red and hollow. "Where are we, anyway?"

"A Vulcan nature preserve near Mount. Seleya. It was a favorite place of mine as a child."

"It's pretty."

"I find it...soothing."

Trip continued to pull apart the blade of grass. Neither spoke as a minute passed. Then another. Finally, he turned his head to look at her.

"You have to come back now."

"I cannot." Here in the safety of her own mind, she could admit the truth that was too shameful to speak aloud. "It is too painful to endure."

Trip exhaled. "I know, T'Pol. God, I know! But you can't stay here forever. Sooner or later, you'll have to face what's out there. What's happened."

"I am not strong enough," she whispered, hanging her head. She was ashamed of her weakness. "I cannot suppress these emotions. But I cannot release them either." In the safety of her mind, she could tell the truth. "Trip, I do not know what to do."

"Neither do I," he answered. "After everything, after Lizzie, the Expanse, Sim...I don't know if I'm strong enough either. But maybe...maybe we can help each other. Maybe we can only get through this together."

Trip fell silent. Neither one spoke. After several long moments, he reached out and touched the hand that lay folded in her lap.

"T'Pol, please." His voice was a ragged whisper. "I need you."

The words struck T'Pol like physical blows as she realized what she had done.

She had left him. He was holding their dead daughter in Sickbay and she had fled, hiding away in her own mind and leaving him alone to bear the terrible pain. She felt the hot twist of shame inside of her.

"Trip...I am..."

T'Pol faltered. She closed her eyes against the onslaught of thoughts and emotions that threatened to overwhelm her.

She had fled, and he had followed. In the depths of his own grief, Trip had thought of her, come looking for her.

"...I am sorry."

How many more times? A dry, perfectly Vulcan voice in her mind cut through her confusion. How many more times are you going to abandon him and make him run after you?

She had no satisfactory answer.

And the voice again, with most simple, most logical question of all: What are you trying to prove?

I'm trying to prove that I don't need him, she answered herself.

And yet you do need him. You need him as you need oxygen to breathe. Denying such an obvious truth is...illogical.

She took his hand, tentatively.

Something somewhere deep inside of T'Pol struggled, twisted, broke free.

"Yes."

She interlaced her fingers with his, feeling his dry calloused palms. She raised her eyes to look at him, to meet the blue gaze that had pierced her soul since the first day they met.

"We can be strong enough," she murmured, "together."

With her other hand, she held out two fingers towards. Trip tentatively mirrored the gesture. Their fingers touched gently.

T'Pol felt their bond growing, strengthening, a live thing between them.

She had irrevocably chosen him as her path. And she knew, with every cell of her being, that she had chosen wisely.

***

"Commanders."

T'Pols eyes opened at the sound of Phlox's gentle voice. She looked down. Her two outstretched fingers will still touching Trip's. He had the confused look of someone who was waking from a dream. Her looked at her, silently questioning.

I am here with you, Trip.

She felt him take comfort in her presence.

Thank you. Thank you for coming back.

T'Pol gazed down at Elizabeth's face. The pain exploded in her chest. She couldn't breathe. Panic rose in her.

Though Trip was also awash in grief, he reached out to help her.

Let it happen. Breathe through it.

I know, darlin'. But it has to be endured. The only way around is through.

She willed herself to remain present, to allow the terrifying emotion to wash over her. It was real, this was real and she needed to allow herself to feel this. She forced her lungs to inhale.

That's it. Just breathe. The worst will pass.

When the wave had receded a bit, TPol looked at Phlox. He looked devastated as well, his usual optimism and merriment totally absent.

"I'm so very sorry." He regarded them solemnly. He spoke softly, gently. "There's really nothing more you can do here."

T'Pol realized that they had been sitting there with Elizabeth for a very long time. "Perhaps we should return to our quarters and let Dr. Phlox complete the--the necessary examinations for Starfleet."

Trip registered her words. His blue eyes flashed dangerously. "You aren't cuttin' my little girl open, Phlox."

Phlox was stricken. "Heavens, no! Commander, I assure you that all of my procedures will be non-invasive."

Trip, you know he must make a full report to Starfleet Medical. TPol tried to sent soothing feelings of support and care. It is pointless to become angry.

Trip grew calmer and nodded. "Of course, Doc. I apologize." He gazed tenderly at his daughter. Tears filled his eyes as he kissed the downy top of her head. "Goodbye, sweetheart." He gently passed Elizabeth to T'Pol.

T'Pol took the child in her arms. Only a few days had passed, and already she had learned to hold her carefully, yet comfortably.

Like a mother.

T'Pol cradled the baby and bent to kiss her soft cheek. Elizabeth's baby scent filled her nostrils as T'Pols eyes burned with unshed tears. "Rom-halan, pi'ko-fu."

Farewell, little daughter.

It took every ounce of her Vulcan will to force her arms to move, to handle the blanket-wrapped bundle to Phlox. Phlox took her reverently. He regarded Trip and T'Pol with a look of sorrow and concern. "I know it sounds foolish under the circumstances, but please try to get some rest tonight. I will let you know tomorrow regarding...arrangements."

T'Pol forced her voice into a semblance of her usual monotone. "Of course, doctor." She stood. "Commander--"

Trip's eyes were empty, unfocused. He seemed unaware of the tears that trickled down his cheeks. She softened her tone. "Trip." She tentatively laid her hand on his shoulder. At the touch his emotions burned through her. T'Pol took a deep breath to steady herself.

Trip, it is time for us to go.

She is not here any more. Elizabeth is gone, Trip.

His eyes refocused slowly and he nodded. T'Pol removed her hand from his shoulder as he rose, unfolding his long legs from the narrow biobed. Although they did not touch she stayed close to him, both giving and receiving comfort from the nearness.

I am here, Trip. I will not leave you.

Trip said nothing, but she felt him draw strength from her closeness. He swiped his forearm across his eyes and gazed wearily at Phlox. "Thanks, doc. Thanks for...I know how hard you tried."

Phlox nodded sadly. The three stood silent for a moment. T'Pol realized there was nothing more to be said. No words existed to bring Elizabeth back to them.

Stripped of any other options, T'Pol and Trip left Sickbay.

***

Their feet carried them on the familiar path to B Deck without any conscious decision. There was no communication between them. T'Pol felt like she was in some kind of fevered dream. The lights were much too bright, the air much too cold. The edges of her vision wavered and bobbed.

She shut down all other thought to focus on one task. Walking. One foot placed in front of the other. This she could control, this she could master. Once she got to B Deck she would allow her mind freedom, but for now... One step. Then another. Then another.

She found herself standing at her door. Trip stood in front of her, radiating misery and confusion.

"T'Pol...maybe I should...I mean, if you need to be alone..."He ran a hand through his already disheveled hair. "If you wanna meditate or somethin', I understand."

Her head snapped up as his words permeated the thick fog that seemed to cloud her mind. "No!" She shook her head and closed her eyes briefly, trying to clear her thoughts.

Emotions welled up in her. She tried to sort through them and failed. She had no book, no tools for dealing with what she felt right now. Through the fog, she remembered the promises they had made.

Trip could help her. Trip would help her.

And she would try to help him

"No." She spoke more gently this time. "I do not wish to be alone."

She could feel the relief wash through him. Suddenly he seemed almost shy, childlike in his gratitude.

"Yeah. Okay."

She keyed in the security code and entered her quarters, Trip close behind her. On her desk was a carafe, two cups, a bowl of fresh fruit and a loaf of Chef's sourdough bread wrapped in a blue cloth napkin. T'Pol picked up the card that lay next to the table. It was handwritten in Captain Archer's slanted, loopy scrawl.

"Take all the time you need.

Eat something."

No salutation, no signature, no condolences. He had gone out of his way to be controlled, understated, yet still offer a gesture of care and concern. TPol was touched by his thoughtfulness. She opened the carafe and poured tea. She turned to Trip, who sat heavily on her bunk, with his head resting in his right hand. His left arm was folded close to his chest, protecting the injury he had received on Mars.

He must be utterly exhausted, she realized.

"Comm--Trip. How long has it been since you slept?"

"Uh, about...since...I have no idea," he admitted. "A couple days, at least."

T'Pol crossed the small room and placed the cups on the floor by her bunk. She lowered himself to the floor at his feet. With gentle but sure hands she removed his boots and socks. She looked up at him. "You will be more comfortable if you disrobe."

"Okay," he agreed absently, making no movement. T'Pol realized he was lost in the same fog that had surrounded her earlier. Gently she pulled down the zipper of his coverall and helped him undress, taking care not to jostle his injured arm. She carefully folded the coveralls and black shirt and laid them next to his boots. Trip still sat on the edge of the bed, clad in only his blue undershirt and shorts. He gazed into the distance with empty eyes.

"Lie down," she ordered him, not unkindly. Trip sighed as his head hit the pillow. His eyes closed immediately. T'Pol pulled the extra blanket from where it was folded at the foot of the bed and covered him. She rose and undressed quickly, pulling on a robe of pale green silk. She sat again and gently nudged his leg. "Move over." Trip complied, and she lay down next to him on the narrow bunk. Trip moved his good arm up and she curled himself against his side, a most un-Vulcan action but one which she knew would bring him comfort. She could not deny that she also welcomed the closeness and weight of his arm as it settled around her shoulder, drawing her close.

He was silent, and his presence in her mind quieted.

T'Pol thought perhaps he had already fallen asleep when he spoke quietly.

"I wish I could've spent more time with her."

"You had to stop Paxton. Your actions saved tens of thousands of lives."

"I know. I had no choice. But still, I keep thinkin'...we find her, we find this miracle, and then just a few hours later, she's gone."

T'Pol felt his agitation grow. She had no comforting answer to give, so she wrapped her arm around his midsection to give him the most comfort possible from her touch.

"It's not fair, T'Pol. You and me, every time we find something special, it gets taken away from us." She could feel him fighting back tears. His breathing hitched audibly. "It's just not fucking fair!"

She felt Trip's chest shake as he held in his sobs.

"Trip, why are you not allowing yourself to fully express your grief?"

He did not speak, but she heard his thoughts clearly. I'm afraid of repulsing you with my emotion. I'm afraid you'll pull away from me. Again.

T'Pol was stung, but she knew his fear stemmed from her own thoughtless, selfish actions. She had never meant to hurt him so, but she had... and now he was afraid. She had to prove to him that nothing could be further from the truth. She spoke aloud to comfort him. "You have never--you could never--repulse me, Trip." She struggled for the right words. "Your emotions, your tears..."

She tried to open her self to him, to show the admiration she held for him, her amazement at his ability to weather the powerful emotions that would surely destroy her.

"I do not cry, Trip, because I have been trained so. I can still feel the need, but I cannot allow myself the loss of control. You can. Your tears for Elizabeth--they are mine as well." She reached up to his face, to brush his eyes in wonderment, to share his sorrow with him.

At her touch, the dam broke. Devastated and exhausted, Commander Charles Tucker III sobbed uncontrollably for everything he had lost.

For Lizzie.

For Sim.

For his innocence.

For the day his joy in discovery had turned to fear of the unknown.

And finally, and always, for the precious daughter he had found and lost.

T'Pol held him tightly, and though her eyes remained dry, in her heart and soul she wept with him.

***

The storm had raged and then abated at last, and Trip had finally fallen asleep.

T'Pol studied his handsome face, smoothed by slumber. The lines and tightness around his eyes and mouth were gone, and T'Pol was struck by how very young he looked.

He is young, T'Pol remembered. He was only thirty-five, barely beyond adolescence in Vulcan terms. The past two years had aged him terribly, not only his body but also his soul. On his serene, sleeping face she could again see a glimpse of the Trip Tucker she met her first day aboard Enterprise, brash and impetuous and full of childlike exuberance.

How illogical, she thought. Those were the very aspects of his personality that I found the most infuriating...and yet I mourn their absence.

T'Pol glanced at the chronometer. 2230. She should meditate, sort out the distressing events of the past several days.

But the presence of Trip in her bed was warm and solid and comforting, and she was so very tired.

He needs me here, she told herself. The matter settled, she curled herself around him and allowed herself to fall asleep.

***

Her bare toes dug into warm sand.

But she was not on Vulcan. The sun above her was bright and yellow. The air smelled of ocean, rather like San Francisco, yet different somehow. The water--an impossibly broad expanse of water-- crashed repeatedly into the sandy shore.

Florida. Somehow she knew.

She was again on a blanket, this time a royal blue spread with the words "Starfleet Academy" emblazoned across it in white. There were two large carryall bags next to her, as well as three blue towels also adorned with the Starfleet Academy logo.

About ten meters ahead of her, Trip crouched at the edge of the water. He was wearing only swimming trunks, and his legs and torso were deeply tanned. He was holding a little boy, maybe nine months old, by the hands, supporting the baby's weight as he took wobbly, bowlegged steps. Every time the little feet touched the water, the baby kicked and laughed. A meter or so away, a little girl of four or five was engaged in the serious task of picking through the wet sand for shells and placing favored specimens in a red plastic bucket she held in her hand. She was wearing a one-piece suit designed for swimming, pink with shiny blue dolphins on the front. The delicate tips of her ears poked through her dark hair.

Trip looked up at T'Pol. He smiled and waved at her. T'Pol was surprised to find herself returning the distinctly un-Vulcan gesture.

Something about Trip looked so different. T'Pol studied him intently, trying to determine what had changed about him.

He is happy, she realized suddenly. His smile lit up his eyes, his body language was open and relaxed, he wasn't hiding any fears or nursing any secret pain. She could feel the warm contentment flowing from him. He was enjoying the sun, and the water, and the day, and he was happy.

The realization made T'Pol's heart soar. His damage is not irreversible, she thought. He can be made whole again. We can be made whole again.

Trip stood and swung the baby up and onto his shoulders. He spoke to the little girl, who nodded gravely and returned to her task. Trip made his way up to where T'Pol sat, gently depositing the baby on the blanket at her feet. Trip lowered himself next to her, stretching himself out to his full length and propping himself up on one elbow.

"So, darlin', whaddaya think?"

T'Pol surveyed her surroundings. "The sand is reminiscent of Vulcan. The cries of the ocean birds--"

"Gulls."

"--gulls, and the sound of the water against the shore--"

"Surf."

"--surf are quite repetitive and soothing. The sun is warm, but the humidity is acceptably low. Overall," she said, turning to him to offer her opinion, "I find the setting quite pleasing."

"I knew ya'd like it!" Trip smiled broadly. His happiness--his joy at pleasing her--flowed all around her. She found it almost irrationally pleasurable. She felt the shadow of a smile flicker across her lips, and she impulsively bent to kiss the top of his head.

Self-consciously, T'Pol straightened up and composed her features into proper Vulcan placidity. The small figure at the edge of the surf caught her attention. "Trip, do you believe it is safe to allow her to be unsupervised so close to the water?"

"She's fine, darlin'. I made her promise to stay close. She's collecting 'a variety of Earth marine invertebrates.'" He laughed. "That apple didn't fall too fall from the tree, did it?"

"Indeed. It is a wise use of time to combine recreation and education." Her attention shifted to the baby, who had crawled off the blanket. "And as far as inheriting parental traits, your son clearly inherited your good judgment. He is eating sand."

"Ah, Charlie's a Florida baby. A little sand's good for him."

"That is illogical. Sand has no nutrition, and could harbor parasites." T'Pol scooped up the baby and placed him in her lap. She used a corner of one of the towels to clean the thoroughly wet and gritty baby. She used a finger to scoop the remaining sand out of his mouth.

She studied the data, and established a theorem regarding Charles' ingestion of non-food items. She reached into one of the carryalls and produced a rubber ring shaped in an approximation of a duck. He gurgled and grabbed at the ring, gumming it with enthusiasm. She placed Charles back on the blanket, where he happily continued to attack the toy.

"He is teething," she announced in the same tone she used to announce a successful scientific experiment, a basic Vulcan monotone with a barely discernable undercurrent of pride.

"Well, that explains the drooling," Trip reached over and gently touched one of the baby's pointed ears. "Do ya think he needs his hat, T'Pol? His ears look like they might be getting a little sunburnt."

T'Pol examined the tiny ears. "Perhaps," she concluded. She returned to the carryall and found a blue sun hat. As she unfolded it, something around her shifted, darkened.

It was Trip. The waves of joy and contentment he was radiating had stopped, replaced by confusion and...sadness.

"T'Pol."

She looked at his face; the open sunniness was clouded, uncertain.

"T'Pol, this isn't real, is it?"

She looked down at the baby in her lap, the blue hat in her hands. She raised her head and looked at the little girl at the water's edge, holding her red pail.

She sighed softly. "No, Trip, it isn't."

"Am I having a dream?"

"That is the most likely explanation."

He looked up at her. "Are you real?"

"Yes. I believe I am sharing your dream through our bond."

Trip gazed at Charles. The baby laughed and reached out to grab at his father's nose. Trip caught the plump hand and kissed it. "Ah, Charlie," he said, smiling sadly.

TPol felt the Trip's sorrow return. She also felt her own, a stabbing pain on the right side of her rib cage.

And that is why it is called a broken heart, she thought. Because that is precisely how it feels.

Trip was gazing into the distance. "I never knew I wanted this. I thought...hell, I guess I thought I'd get old and die on Enterprise. But then I saw Elizabeth. And in those couple hours when we thought she'd pull through, I could suddenly see this. Us. As a family."

He was quiet for a moment, then continued softly. "And when realized it, I just knew it felt so good. So right. And I knew that I had to go after it, even if it took me the rest of my life to convince you."

"Trip...you do not need to convince me, T'hy'la. I feel as you do."

T'Pol felt a burst of love, his joy that she shared his wish, surrounding her. Then it disappeared, and the sadness reclaimed him.

"But...it doesn't matter now." His shoulders sagged as he exhaled softly. "None of this is gonna happen for us, is it?" He looked pleadingly into her eyes.

T'Pol was gazing back at him, searching for an answer and finding none, when she felt a small tug on the sleeve of her robe.

She looked into a pair of blue eyes so like Trip's it took her breath away. The round face was topped by a windblown mop of dark silky hair, cut in a bob with severe bangs across her forehead. The tips of her ears were already sunburned a dark greenish-bronze.

"Mama, look." She extended a chubby hand to T'Pol. "Asteroidea Echinodermata. A starfish."

T'Pol took the offered specimen. It was indeed shaped in the quaint human representation of a star.

Trip looked over at what T'Pol held in her hand. "Tough little critters," he offered. "You can cut off an arm--cut off a whole part of them--and they grow it back. They're survivors."

"'Fascinating,' T'Pol murmured. She offered the starfish back to her daughter.

"No, Mama, you keep it. I'll find another one." With that the little girl turned and ran back down to the water's edge, impatient for her next scientific discovery.

Trip's haunted eyes watched the child splashing in the waves. He finally spoke again, his voice thick with emotion. "Tell me, T'Pol. How do you go on, knowin' the one thing you want more than anything is the one thing you can't have?"

TPol looked at her daughter. Her beautiful daughter. She felt the roughness of the starfish in her hand as she rubbed the knobbed spines.

And she had an answer for Trip's question. "You survive," she said. "You heal the broken parts, re-grow the missing pieces. You become whole again."

"But where do you begin?" he asked her.

"Here," she said simply, and kissed him.

***

As the kiss deepened, the remnants of the beautiful dream faded away, leaving them again on T'Pol's narrow bunk. As she woke, she felt the heat of his lips, felt his mouth open and his tongue gently exploring hers. The maddening itch of desire she always felt for Trip exploded into an all-consuming need.

She savored the way his mouth tasted, the scent of his skin that intoxicated her--the shampoo he favored, the metallic tang of the engines that always clung to him, and underneath it all just the smell of him, of Trip, the unmistakable masculinity and power of him that always lay coiled and ready to spring.

He was almost fully awake now, and she could feel him responding to her, feel his need rising up to meet her own. They were lying on their sides, facing each other, and she hooked her leg over him and drew him closer. He groaned softly against her mouth as she pressed up hard against him, his hips rocking against her in an ancient universal rhythm.

And then he stopped, and pulled away from her. She was disoriented by the sudden loss of his heat, of his body touching hers. She moaned as she reached for him.

"T'Pol, wait." His good hand encircled her wrist and held it tightly. She was stronger, she could have broken free easily, but she sensed what he needed from her and stilled herself.

"Look at me." She complied, gazing at him simply and directly.

"You know I love you."

"Yes." There was no point in saying otherwise.

"I'll always love you, no matter what happens to us. But if we do this...T'Pol, you can't leave me again. It would kill me."

She saw into his heart, so open and transparent in his love for her, and saw he was telling her the truth.

"All or nothing, T'Pol. No more in between. Which is it gonna be, darlin'?"

All the reasons to run away: Fear, uncertainty, shame.

She considered, rejected. No. she would not leave him again. Leaving had solved nothing. Leaving was her weakness. Leaving had hurt him. No.

All the reasons to stay: Lust? Responsibility? Obligation?

No. None of these descriptions were accurate.

She remembered him on that dream beach, tan and laughing and so happy.

His happiness had filled her with contentment. She wanted, more than anything, to devote herself to making him happy.

The dry Vulcan voice in her mind again. You say that Vulcans do not experience love? I have never heard a better definition.

She considered. Devotion? Love?

She gazed at him, serene in acceptance of her fate.

There was no other logical conclusion.

"All, Trip. I choose all."

And his joy in her, in her choice, leaped from him like a halo, surrounded them, pushed the sorrow back just a tiny bit.

He released her hand, and pulled at the belt that cinched her robe. As it fell open, T'Pol shrugged out of it in one fluid motion. She was naked before the heat of his gaze, and he studied her for a moment with wonder in his eyes.

"You are so goddamn beautiful," he said, and then he reached for her, devouring her, drinking her in like a man dying of thirst. She helped him remove the last of his clothes and reveled in him, in the feel of the muscles under his downy skin.

She ran her hands down his torso and lower, gently taking hold of him. She wrapped her fingers around his length, marveling at how it felt satin soft, yet rock hard at the same time. He moaned as his hips bucked involuntarily, and in her mind, she could feel his pleasure and it inflamed her own.

I can't believe how good it feels, darlin'. To feel you touch me and know how I feel on your fingers.

Show me, T'hy'la. Show me how you want me to touch you.

And he did, and as she stroked him gently, then harder, he moaned against her neck and ground his hips against her hand. The feeling of his pleasure in her mind was unbelievable. She could feel what she was doing to him, could feel the building pressure in his belly, feel his rising need for release, and it drove her almost insane for him.

Stop, sweetheart. Not yet.

He gently took her hand by the wrist and pinned it above her head. His eyes, dark and glittering, raked the length of her naked body. He spoke aloud.

"I want to feel you."

His kisses moved down the side of her neck, nipping on her shoulder, and then his good hand moved away from her wrist and explored her breast, gently cupping it as he bent his head to suckle at her nipple. The shocks shot through T'Pol like she had stepped into a live plasma conduit. As she arched and gasp, Trip felt the wave of pleasure, and his amazement flowed back to her.

This is unbelievable. Did you know?

No, T'hy'la. I never suspected. I never thought...

And then she stopped thinking at all because as he licked and pulled at her breast, his hand slid down in between her legs, exploring the hot, slick depths he found there. His thumb found her most sensitive spot and gently rubbed it as he she showed him what she wanted...and he slipped one finger, then two, deep inside her.

She could not think, or speak, or remember who she was. All she knew was the raging desires of her body, of the unspeakable pleasures her mate was giving her, the sensations that flowed out of her and into his mind and he sent back again, refracted into a thousand splinters of light. She threw her head back and moaned, feeling the sensation beginning to build in her belly and spine.

Then aching emptiness as his fingers withdrew; he moved himself between her thighs and paused . A soft moan of frustration escaped her as her hips moved to find him, to draw him into her.

"T'Pol. Say my name."

She opened her eyes to find him gazing at her, his eyes dark with lust, his hair matted with sweat. She still felt his love surround her, but this was different. More primal. Not just love, but a need to claim, to conquer, to posess. The ferocity in him, barely controlled...it resonated at the core of T'Pol's being.

Yes. This one. You belong to this one.

"Trip." Her voice was hoarse, ragged; she barely recognized it as her own.

"Tell me you're mine."

"I am yours. Always yours."

He pressed his hips against her. She could feel his hardness against her, driving her mad with desire.

"Tell me what you want."

In her red haze his language failed her. "Trip. T'hy'la, ashal-veh. Tan-tor du."

And she cried out without realizing as he thrust into her, completing her, filling her with pain that was also the most exquisite of pleasure. She found his rhythm, matched it, rising her hips to meet him with each stroke.

T'Pol shared the senations of his body as well as her own, felt her own slick heat sliding over his flesh. The intensity of the shared sensation was overwhelming, unbearable. She closed her eyes as the waves crashed over her. Over and over again he thrust into her, insatiable. As he neared his climax, the rising tide in him brought her ever closer to her own.

"Look at me, T'Pol."

She obeyed him, locking her eyes with his as he took his pleasure in her body. His face was feral, almost animal in its intensity. She had never seen a man so beautiful. The sight of him undone so pushed her to very the edge of the abyss. She wanted to possess all of him, every piece of him, body and soul.

Be with me, T'hy'la. She showed him what to do.

He shifted his weight onto his injured side without complaint as he used his right hand to seek out the ancient points on the side of her face. Feeling her body tighten and tremble, T'Pol did the same.

We are one.

Everything shared. Nothing hidden. Nowhere to hide.

We are one.

It echoed across their joined minds as he growled in his throat and shuddered, emptying himself into her. She felt his climax as it ripped through him, almost painful in intensity, and she followed, her body exploding in a million shards of pure bliss.

His ragged breathing slowed as he gently left her body, lowering himself to his side and gathering her close. "Oh, God. T'pol, darlin', that was...we were..."

She returned to herself, tangled in Trip's long limbs, sated, content. His love flowed through her, calmer, more steady, but with the unmistakable undercurrent of possession. She felt cherished. Protected. Safe.

Is this love? Is this devotion? She was still uncertain of how to define these concepts...but she was certain of her feelings. She did not need to know their labels to share them with him.

She was Vulcan. She would always be Vulcan, but she could to give her human what he needed. What he deserved.

Do I make you happy, T'hy'la?

Yes, he murmered in her mind. You make me very happy.

T'Pol spoke aloud.

"Trip?"

"Hm?"

"I wish to spend the rest of my life making you happy."

He laughed softly and kissed the top of her head "I love you too, darlin'.”

***

T'Pol opened her eyes and saw the chrono. 0645. Compared to her usual routine, she had slept horrendously late.

"Good morning, sunshine." Trip was sitting on her desk chair, fully dressed, pulling on his boots. He smiled at her."I was about to wake you."

T'Pol considered pointing out the illogic of comparing her to a beam of wide-spectrum radiation, and then decided not to. She understood what he meant by the idiom, and she had come to regard his silly endearments as rather...well, endearing.

She sat up in bed. For a passing moment, she thought perhaps she had dreamed everything, but the fact that she was completely nude and very sore in a certain area dispelled that speculation.

"You should have woken me sooner."

"You were out like a light, and I figure if a Vulcan is that knocked out, she must be one tired Vulcan."

"I can't disagree. I feel much refreshed.You seem...revitalized as well."

"Well, things do seem better than yesterday, I suppose." Trip's expression was melancholy again, and T'Pol marveled yet again how a human's emotions could turn so quickly. But as she looked at him, she realized that while his sorrow was still fresh on him, this was not the devastation she had seen last night. His eyes were alive again.

"Were you planning on going on duty today?" she asked him

"Yeah," he admitted somewhat sheepishly. "I haven't set foot in Engineering in days. I need to make sure everything's in one piece down there. Anyway, I'd like to think about...regular stuff for awhile."

"I agree. I was also planning on returning to duty today. Returning to routine tasks will be somewhat of a relief."

"Yeah, exactly." Trip came and sat on the bed. "I'm gonna go back to my quarters and take a shower."

T'Pol extended her fingers. Now familiar with the gesture, Trip reciprocated.

The connection was complete and instantaneous. T'Pol had always believed that humans were simply not capable of this. She had been wrong.

Would you like to meditate tonight, perhaps before dinner?

We could both use a little meditatin', I think. Trip kissed her gently and stood. "I'll drop by around 18:30."

"I look forward to it."

***

By the time 1700 rolled around Trip was glad to call it a day.

Although he was relieved to return to a normal routine--well, as normal as it ever got for Enterprise--and be able to think about other things besides Elizabeth, he had underestimated how drained and worn out he really was. He was grateful that although everyone was glad to see him, nobody really expected him to get much done. Fortunately. Lieutenant Hess had things well under control for the moment.

As he left Engineering, he reflected on the midafternoon message from the Captain. To be honest, that had pretty much done him in. The coalition delegates asked to be present at the service. Trip supposed that was a sign of respect, but all it really meant was that he was thinking about Elizabeth, and her funeral, and her being all alone in the cold ground...

"Oh God," he gasped, and leaned against the bulkhead for support, his eyes filling with tears. Every time he managed to think of something else, something mundane, for a few moments, thoughts of Elizabeth's perfect tiny body in his arms would rise up and threaten to overwhelm him.

He took a deep breath, swallowing his tears and swiping his eyes with the back of his sleeve. Fortunately there had been no one in the hallway to witness his weakness. Crying in front of T'Pol was one thing, but out here in the hallway, that was another issue altogether.

T'Pol. Suddenly he missed her horribly, viscerally. He had to find her. Trip took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and headed for the turbolift.

As he pressed the call button, the doors swished open. It was Phlox. Trip backed up a bit to let him pass. "Hey, Doc."

"Ah, Mister Tucker, I was just coming to look for you. Commander T'Pol is in meditation and has Do Not Disturb active on her com."

"What is it, Phlox?" Trip felt a knot of dread forming in his stomach.

"I thought you might be interested in my report for Starfleet Medical."

"Doc, I'm just about full up on bad news, so I think I'd rather pass." Trip started to go around the doctor, but Phlox reached out and took his arm, an uncharacteristic gesture for the Denobulan.

"Commander, I don't believe you understand. This report has some quite positive findings."

Trip stopped and regarded Phlox intently. "Such as."

Phlox took a deep breath. "The process that Paxton's...scientists... used to create Elizabeth was fundamentally flawed. Perhaps intentionally so." The fierce expression on the gentle alien's face indicated the contempt in which he held such individuals.

"Intentionally? Fantastic, they not caused Elizabeth's death, they may have murdered her. That doesn't make me feel a hell of a lot better, Phlox."

"I understand that. However, when we examined the cloning process, we made a startling discovery. You see, Commander, the Vulcan High Command had always been extremely resistant to sharing the full Vulcan genome map. With our study of Elizabeth, we may have discovered why.

"Vulcan and Humans appear to be closely related species."

Trip tried to think of something intelligent to say and failed. "What?"

"What we have learned indicates that Vulcans and Humans share common genetic ancestry. What differences exist seem to be primarily adaptations to deal with very different environments, such as air density, gravity, and temperature.

"This is a shocking finding, Commander. All of the assumptions and theories regarding the rise of sentient life of Earth and Vulcan will need to be closely reexamined."

Trip was growing impatient. "Bottom-line this for me, Doc."

"Enough divergence exists to make Humans and Vulcans distinctly different species, and a hypothetical Human-Vulcan couple could not conceive naturally. However, the genetic manipulations required to ensure viability of an embryo are really quite straightforward." Phlox smiled. "not much more than a nudge to Mother Nature, really."

Trip tried to absorb the information. As he began to grasp what Phlox was telling him, a wild hope began to rise within him. "Are you saying..."

"There is no reason that a hypothetical Human-Vulcan couple wouldn't be able to have as many children as they want."

Trip couldn't help it. His face cracked into a grin. "I bet that will make your 'hypothetical' Human-Vulcan couple pretty happy."

"I certainly hope it does."

Trip's grin faded. "Doesn't mean there won't be more monsters like Paxton out there, ready to destroy anybody who isn't exactly like them."

Phlox leaned closer to Trip, his face serious. He spoke softly. "Commander, I have visited hundreds of worlds, including two residencies on Vulcan, and I have treated patients from thousands of different species. Believe me when I tell you that you and T'Pol are no anomaly, and you are not wrong. No matter what bigots like Paxton would like to believe." He released Trip's arm and straightened, smiling again. "And now, perhaps you'd like to share your good news, hmm?"

"I sure would, Phlox. Thanks...for everything."

****

T'Pol had barely made it through her shift on the bridge. For all her attempts at emotional control, the feelings ripped through her without rhyme or reason. She felt the terrible pain of death one minute, and the next she would remember the feel the warmth of Trip's arms around her and the transcendence they had shared.

She had always castigated humans for bouncing from one emotion to the next. Apparently Vulcans weren't much more evolved in that regard...just better at hiding it away.

When the end of her duty shift had blessedly arrived, she retreated to her quarters for her desperately needed meditation. As she opened her closet to select a change of clothes, her eyes fell to the ceremonial robes. She hadn't worn them since her mother had died. It felt right somehow to wear them now. To wear them for Elizabeth.

As T'Pol lit the candle, her eye fell on the IDIC symbol lying on the corner of her desk. Phlox must have had it returned while she was on duty. She crossed the room to pick it up, and sat on the edge of the bed as she caressed the worn metal of the insignia. Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations.

And not one of those combinations can give us what we wish for, she thought sadly.

As she gazed at the pendant, she sensed Trip's approach. He was early. T'Pol realized she was relieved. She had missed him desperately.

He must have punched in her security code, for he came in without knocking. His eyes were teary, but T'Pol could feel that his emotions were different than last night. He was filled with sorrow for his lost daughter, but there was also...some kind of kind of light dancing in his eyes. "The delegates at the conference -- they've asked about the service for --for Elizabeth."

"She was important," T'pol said carefully. This was not why he was here. There was something else.

"There's something else." Trip was crying, but this was not the same. These were not the tears of a broken man. She felt the emotions radiating from him...sorrow, confusion...hope? T'Pol held very still, waiting, not daring to breathe.

Trip sat down next to T'Pol. "I spoke with Phlox. It turns out there was a flaw in the technique that Paxton's doctors used in the cloning process. Human DNA and Vulcan DNA...Phlox says there's no medical reason why they can't combine. So, if a Vulcan and a human ever decided to have a child, it'd probably be okay." Trip looked at T'Pol, the tears running freely now. "That's sort of comforting."

T'Pol felt dizzy. She clutched at Trip's leg for support.

You mean that...

Yes.

Trip took her hand and gripped it tightly. T'Pol leaned her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes.

A reprieve, she thought. A second chance. A gift.

Through their bond, she saw the images in his mind.

She caught the scent of ocean, and heard the cries of gulls overhead.

-Fin-

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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

Awwwww...that was sweet...a very nice addendum to TP

:)

Ditto! Maybe a followup later?

she had come to regard his silly endearments as rather...well, endearing.

lol! So T'Pol!
I really liked how you wrote this so that the last scene in the episode, the end of your story, had a different feel and meaning. Great idea.

Loved it!!

Absolutely beautiful. Everyone in character and very,very touching. Thank you.

I agree, absolutely beautiful. Loved it.

Wow. That was the best new fanfic I've read in awhile. Really deft handling of their emotions and dialogue -- both internal and external -- that rang true. Very graceful. I love how you tied it all in to the episode, giving us a behind-the-scenes feel to it. And this line I adored: "You heal the broken parts, re-grow the missing pieces. You become whole again." Just beautiful. Thank you!

Absolutely wonderful! Beautifully sad and hopeful at the same time, excellent handling of the characters, and some of the best dialogue I've ever read. Thank you.

Quite lovely. I enjoyed it immensely, despite the sad plot. I particularly enjoyed the lack of angst ie T'Pol coming to the realization that she can't keep shutting Trip out and running away. Loved the dream sequence.

i loved it i hope you decide to wirte a siqual to it id love to read more

Excellent and beautifully written. Loved every bit of it - thank you.

Thank you so much for that story - so beautifully and sensitively done. I'm typing this through tears atm! You really caught the characters, their pain, and their struggle. Well done! Please say this isn't a one-off? :)

thank you--this was gorgeous. i cried.

Wow! This story was excellent. It was painful to read Trip and T’Pol’s feelings about losing their daughter, which means you did a superb job capturing and conveying it. There really is nothing more painful in the world than losing a child. I love how you turned it around into a story of hope without trivializing Elizabeth’s death. Bravo! I’d love to see more to this story. Please continue it.

Just beautifully done. Love the way you tell their story, really wonderful. There is always hope !!

Oh, that was beautiful! Sad, moving, lovely - it made me cry!
And still there´s hope for a better future for them - together (and we all KNOW they stay together, right?).
I loved it!

A nice bittersweet tale. Thumbs up.

well that was a very well-done addition to the Terra Prime story...imagine what we could've had if they had just stretched this story to 3 episodes and forgotten the...well you know...

Beautiful. Sad with a bit of hope at the end, just like the episode. I especially thought T'Pol's lapse into Vulcan during the love scene was a really nice touch!

Ok this is the definition of bittersweet,,, I dont think any story so far about the end of Tera Prime has made me feel so damn hopefull for TnT and at the same time feel as if their world has fallen apart,,,, And I just loved how Ya had TnT start to rebuild that world together... Just to wonderfull.

That was excellent, well done! :)

This was absolutely brilliant! Loved it, so sad and heart achingly beautiful then with the hope growing towards the end that Trip and T'Pol will be able to have a family of their own. Sigh. it doesn't get much better than this. Ali D :~)

Beautiful story! Expands on Terra Prime very nicely. :)

Problem:

Humans and Vulcans can't be that closely related. Vulcan blood uses copper as the hemoglobin--the mineral that binds to oxygen and carries it through the body. Human blood uses iron. This is one of the most fundamental processes in biology. In addition, we know that the differences aren't just surface differences--the entire internal organ structure is different.

So announcing that Humans and Vulcans are similar enough to interbreed threw me right out of the reader's trance. Having Phlox announce that the technique they used to splice the human and vulcan genes together was crude and a good geneticist should be able to create a viable being would have worked better, imho.

okay, yeah, I know..but after all the fics I've suffered through T'Pol somehow "miraculously" gets knocked up, I think my slight bit of canon-bending is forgivable...

okay, yeah, I know..but after all the fics I've suffered through T'Pol where T'Pol somehow "miraculously" gets knocked up, I think my slight bit of canon-bending is forgivable...PLUS, if it was so difficult that they needed a geneticist, how did Lorian come to be? Phlox is a helluva doc, but he is essentially a GP, not a geneticist. Anyway, I always thought that the 'Vulcans have copper-based green blood' thing was one of the worst thought-through bits of canon ever. "Hey, how can we make this alien guy different? I know! He'll bleed GREEN!" In all honesty, it makes the possibility of human-Vulcan hybrids pretty much categorically impossible.
So in short, I don't disagree with you, but I'm telling a story here, ok?

Ach,

I was trying to respond to you, and I put your name in the name field...sorry...must have more coffee before posting...

What an emotional piece! This was outstanding. What a beautiful addition to the ep. Well done.

That's so sweet, a beautiful fic!! Great addition to Terra Prime. :)

this is lovely! thank you for this fic.

Whoh! Absolutely perfect! I beleive this fic should be the "last word" on Trip n' T'Pol's response to the death of Elizabeth. I'm blown away by this.

Also you are right about the green blood being a terrible, poorly-thought-out idea that we all have to live with (or ignore).

I hope you are making a ton of money off your writing talent and this is just a side thing.

It brings tears. Such feeling, and the beach scene, great, delightful.

This is for Ach. You said that Phlox is basically a GP. Not so! I believe they said he had 12 different degrees. Maybe that was from "A Night in Sickbay." But I agree: the idea of red blood and green being compatible is very sci-fiction, not possible in RL. On Earth even the cats and dogs have red blood, and they aren't compatible with humans. All must reproduce "after their own kind."