Sweet Sorrow- Ch. 3

Sweet Sorrow

By vandiver49

Rating: G, Angst, Friendship, Romance

Disclaimers in Chapter 1

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Chapter Three

The Fault of Fate

The first sounds that greeted Trip as he awoke the following morning were not the of singing birds or the rustling of leaves, but the sequential popping of almost every bone in his body. He was almost certain that he had just experienced the worst possible night of sleep in his life. The bed was only marginally softer than the floor and the unbearable desert heat forced him to sleep in nothing but his boxers. As opened his eyes to a new day, Trip thought that the blurred vision was watching Vulcan's sun begin its daily ascent through the sky. But after clearing the sleep from his eyes, Trip realized that he was gazing upon something for more brilliant.

"Good morning Commander." Greeted T'Pol.

"Oh morning T'Pol, geez don't you know how to knock." He answered as he fumbled for his shirt. She of course was already dressed, wearing a magnificent red dress with a tantalizingly low neckline. He had never seen her wear anything so feminine and delicate before in her life. The only thing remotely Vulcan about her was the sash that was draped from her left shoulder, with three Vulcan characters woven into its threads.

"You were sleeping, it seemed inappropriate to wake you."

Trip didn't respond, his mind too preoccupied with how simply amazing she looked. He even briefly flirted with the idea what T'Pol might look like in a similarly white dress.

"Commander." She asserted herself again.

"Oh sorry T'Pol, I've just never seen you.well you know." Trip said, or at least tried to say, his hands expressing his minds frustration. "You look beautiful."

"Thank you. I suggest that you hurry and get dressed, we will be leaving in fifteen minutes."

"OK, I'll be ready in a sec."

. . .

Trip and T'Pol's family left as scheduled for her family's ceremonial grounds, each contemplating the gravity of this union. For Vasonn and S'Ryn it was the fulfillment of their daughter's destiny, one which they were unsure why she so vehemently evaded. T'Pol's thoughts were consumed by who her unknown betrothed was. To find an unbonded mate around her age was rather uncommon, leading her to she suspect the individual was very old or had a somewhat checkered background. Either way, the presence of her friend was doing little to lessen the overwhelming sense of imprisonment she felt this union held. For Trip, his mind was torn between his feelings for T'Pol and his fervent desire to get off of Vulcan. It was only divine grace that kept his from going off on T'Pol father and her pleading that kept him on the planet in the first place. Trip made silent vow to himself to be off this rock two minutes after the nuptials were exchanged.

The walk to the grounds took almost twenty minutes, which in Vulcan's blazing heat made it feel like an eternity. When they arrived, five identically dressed Vulcan males were already there waiting. They all wore menacing black masks that concealed everything but their eyes, providing no one with any indication of whom the actual suitor was. Trip followed T'Pol and her family's lead and lined up across the others Vulcans waiting for; well he wasn't really exactly sure what they were on.

Trip continued to survey the landscape, noting the semi-enclosed stone structure to his right and the trapezoid shaped metallic object hanging from its roof. To his left, beyond T'Pol and her parents, stood a sheer granite wall with six massive Vulcan glyphs chiseled onto its face. There were three on each side, apparently framing what from Trip's estimation must be the altar. And while He couldn't read a lick on Vulcan, he did recognize the text on the left as being identical to the ones T'Pol bore on her sash. Trip was about to make another keen observation when the faint sounds of bells in the wind caught his attention. Trip found that he was the only one searching for the direction from which the ringing emanated. His eyes trained to an opening just beyond the leftmost Vulcan male in their line abreast. He focused on that corner intently, waiting to see just what or who's arrival the bells were heralding.

The answer was far different from what he expected as the first thing he saw was the curve of a blade, firmly attached to a long pole. The next objects to appear were the profiles of two Vulcan males, each mirror opposites in every way as they carried their weapons perfectly parallel to the desert floor. As the procession continued, it became apparent that the entourage was that of a person of great importance as the figure sat elevated in a carriage that rested upon the shoulders of the first two Vulcans. Trip then gazed upon the source of the chimes, two Vulcan women who walked in tandem by the immediate side of the precariously perched chair, the bells they carried ringing with their every step. Two more Vulcan males were charged with tending the rear of the carriage and made up the end of the elaborate parade. If this was anything like the weddings he was accustomed to back home, Trip surmised, the person riding on high must be the priest.

As the attendants placed the carriage down in front of the stone face, Trip was finally able to make out the person's feminine form even though her body was shrouded in robes. As the woman surveyed the parties in attendance, her attention was immediately drawn to Trip, his uniform causing him to stand out amongst the sparse crowd.

*T'Pol of Vulcan, since when are our traditions and ceremonies made privy for outsiders to see?*

T'Pol stepped out of the line to make her address. *T'Lau, he is not an outsider, but my friend. He attends today's ceremonies at my request.*

*Very well. * T'Lau answered. *He who is to be mated with T'Pol, step forward and make thyself known.*

The second Vulcan from the end walked out of the line to a point directly in front of T'Pol.

*T'Pol on Vulcan, know the face of thine mate.* T'Lau decried.

T'Pol took her arms and wrapped them around the head of the man in front of her, fishing for the knot of his mask. As she fiddled with the intricate bond, T'Pol's gaze remained locked on her future mate. She studied his eyes intently, noticing a disturbing familiarity they held within. With but a few turns remaining in the yoke, she watched in confusion as creases and lines crept upon his face, particularly near the corners of his eyes. It was not something completely alien to her, but it was a feature she'd only seen amongst her crew as their faces contorted to comply with their facial expressions. With the knot thoroughly undone, T'Pol slowly let the mask drop; finally allowing to see the true face of the man she was destined to spend the rest of her life with. It was a face that pierced the very core of her emotional control, causing her to gasp in shock and terror as it smiled back at her. The face of the man was one she had known, and desperately thought she would never encounter again. Her voice suddenly horse, she breathlessly whispered his name;

*Tolaris?!*

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Continued in Chapter 4

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