#t’pol looks uncomfortable with all the eyes on her

[deltaquadrantbaby]

Watching a different persons face each time is phenomenal

[talshiargirlfriend]

Following on from this one … more ✨vibes✨ for @candiedsumire and @deadheaddaisy (like a weird reverse vampire I will gladly tag anyone is these but you have to invite yourself in)

We’re nearly to emergency brownies and Only One Bed, but I’m impatient.

After a day full of simulations and last minute adjustments in preparation for live testing, Commander Tucker and SubCommander T’Pol boarded a transport bound for Florida. 

“So it’ll just be my parents at dinner tonight and maybe my sister Lizzie. Shouldn’t be too bad.” Trip sighed. 

“Are you not looking forward to seeing your family?”

“No, I am. It’s just - I guess I’m kinda nervous about us -  y’know, acting like we’re together.”

“Our colleagues have expressed no qualms, and  your father apparently already believed we were romantically involved,” T’Pol pointed out. 

Trip’s ears burned. She was right. Now that he thought about it, no one on the project had even really seemed surprised. Fair enough from the other Vulcans, but even Rostov had taken it in stride. “Yeah, well, I guess we were pretty convincing on the dance floor. But at work we have to act professional, and at home it’s just us. Around my family we’ll have to actually act like we’re ‘romantically involved.’”

T’Pol looked at him expectantly. 

“I know Vulcans aren’t big on public displays of affection, so it’s not like anyone will expect us to be making out in the hall or anything… but we should act close, you know? Like maybe I should call you a nickname sometimes? Stand close together, you know, nonverbal communication. Maybe not hold hands exactly but casually touch a little… What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Commander-“

He raised an eyebrow to remind her of their agreement not to address each other by rank off-duty. 

“Trip,” she corrected. “You already do those things.”

“What?” 

“You have called me darling several times and sweetheart twice, typically when you were making a joke at my expense.”

He frowned. “Ok, yeah, I do tease you some. But what about the other stuff?”

T’Pol conspicuously turned her head to look at his hand where it rested on the back of her seat and then met his startled eye. Before he could say anything she then gestured to the scant distance between them where their thighs nearly touched. 

He looked at her in concern, “Have I been making you uncomfortable?” 

“I have been trained to tolerate offensive situations,” she responded flatly. 

He leaned back sharply and opened his mouth to apologise before he caught the mischief in her expression. 

“Okay, you had me going.” He grinned, “You give as good as you get in the teasing department, darlin’.”

“We have formed a friendship. I do not find your proximity unpleasant,” she reassured him.

His smile faded into a slight grimace. “Speaking of proximity, we’ll definitely be sharing a bedroom. There aren’t that many rooms in the house, plus …“ Trip couldn’t think of a polite way to say ‘everyone thinks we’re banging,’ so he just left the thought hanging in the air between them. 

“We have been living in close quarters for the past few weeks with no issue. I don’t foresee any difficulty with the arrangements for the next two days.” Her voice took on a note of concern, “Do you?”  

“I guess not,” he conceded. “You’ll probably get tired of looking at my face, and my back might get a little stiff from sleeping on the floor but otherwise… “

T’Pol raised one brow, “Then perhaps you should relax for the remainder of the journey.”

“Are you suggesting I’m overthinking this?”

She didn’t actually say ‘obviously,’ but her face pretty clearly communicated the sentiment. 

“All right, sweetheart, you win this round.”

T’Pol patted his leg in a consoling gesture. “I believe the expression in your language is ‘there, there, dear.’”

Trip shook his head, laughing. “Oh, they’re gonna love you.”

[marointhemoon]

It would have been fine...

Chapter 2

Travis hasn’t gotten consistent physical contact since he left the Horizon for the first time. He hasn’t had much reason to think much about it, either. And then some plant goes and attacks him and he’s starting to see why the lack of contact might be a problem.

This is a multi-chapter work. Click here to start from the beginning.

Three days went by before Travis did anything about what Phlox had said. Sure enough, everything got worse, but he tried to hold it together as best he could and put on as cold an exterior as possible. No hugs, no punches, no touches, nothing. Then again, either he'd been less subtle than he’d thought or doctor-patient confidentiality didn’t apply to bridge officers; by that time, it seemed that the entire bridge staff had an inkling of what was going on.

Technically, T’Pol was the first to do anything about it: she politely ignored him, as usual. Despite himself, Travis was almost relieved. The Vulcan had made it clear that she was uncomfortable being touched, and he didn’t want to imagine her hugging him. Faintly, he wondered how—or even if—the pollen was affecting her. Based on what he saw in her demeanor (or, maybe more aptly, what he didn’t see), Travis suspected the answer was 'very little, if at all.'

Beyond her, the Bridge officers didn’t seem any more sure of how to handle the situation than Travis himself was. He’d been cleared to go back to work, as Phlox trusted him to uphold the treatment plan and Captain Archer saw no other reason to put him on medical leave.

Hoshi ended up being the first to actively step in.

It wasn't anything grandiose. Just an open, upturned palm on her right knee during movie night, a silent offer to hold it.

Travis hesitated for a moment, then slipped his hand into hers.

She squeezed his hand.

He shuddered.

By that time, the itch and the anxiety had come back in full force. The last time Travis had felt this anxious onboard was the day before launch, when everything was still getting set up. He’d hated it that day, too—though not naturally an anxious person, somehow he had felt so jittery and tense and terrified that it all almost made him dizzy.

But now? All of it was gone, and the sheer relief of that made Travis want to cry.

But he didn’t. He swallowed the lump in his throat, squeezed back, and felt even more relief flood his body, originating at his left hand. Tears started to burn his eyes, though Travis didn't understand why. Wasn't this supposed to help? Hoshi looked over at him, barely more noticeable than a glance, and pursed her lips a little. She leaned against him, seeming to think that that would help.

It didn't. More of that relief—endorphins, maybe?—seemed to flood Travis' system, and suddenly he had even more tears to blink back. His Adam's apple bobbed, and he was suddenly exceedingly grateful to be in the back row. He didn't know what he wanted, whether to let go of Hoshi's hand and leave or ask her to come with him. The contact felt good—worryingly so. It didn't even turn him on, though, either; it just felt like Hoshi's hand was meant to be in his, and her head on his shoulder. It just felt … safe.

Which was precisely why Travis then gently pulled away from her, leaving her with a gentle pat on the knee.

It wasn’t until he was out of the mess and entering the turbolift that he heard her call out, “Hey!”

His heart leapt, and he froze. Hoshi was walking right towards him. His heart sank right back down when he saw the faint worry on her face. Before he could stop her, she had entered the turbolift with him.

“D Deck,” she said, her voice neutral. As the turbolift started to move, she turned to look at him.

“Talk to me,” she said, firm but not unkind.

Travis’ throat closed again, and he swallowed thickly. How was he supposed to explain this? The turbolift door opened. Seeming to understand, Hoshi took his hand, much gentler this time, and stepped out.

“Come on,” Hoshi said simply, leaving no room for argument.

Without a second thought, he obeyed. They didn’t say anything during their walk, nor did anyone walk past them. This was good — Travis could calm down and go back to his quarters, and everything would go back to normal.

Until they walked right past his quarters and up to the door of hers.

Silently, she keyed in her door code and led him inside. She sat him down on her armchair, dragging over her desk chair to sit with him. Both ensigns sat there for a moment, their hands folded in their laps. Hoshi leaned forward.

“Travis, talk to me,” she said, softer than before. “Please.”

Travis sighed, his skin starting to crawl again. “On the last away mission, you, uh … you know how I got hit with that pollen that didn’t do anything?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, apparently it does do something … in the form of making me…” Travis sighed again, trying to find the words. “… making me need … like … hugs, I guess. I don’t know. The term Phlox used was ‘deep pressure.’ I don’t know if you know what that is.”

Hoshi nodded. “It’s like firm touch, right? Hugs, massages, cuddling—?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Travis cut in, suddenly embarrassed. “That … type of stuff. He, uh … Phlox said that if I get regular deep pressure, the effects of the pollen will go away in a few days. The more, the better.”

Hoshi sat there for a moment, choosing her words carefully. “I mean … I can’t just sit here and cuddle you for a few days—I doubt the captain would allow it, if nothing else—but if you want more hugs, I’m happy to give them.”

Travis blinked. “What?”

“You said you need deep pressure.”

“Well, yeah, but—I just—” Travis stammered. Pull it together, he internally chastised. “I can live without it. If … if the alternative is being—cuddled—for a few days, I’ll just suck it up and it’ll be fine.”

“You could do that,” Hoshi replied with a nod. “Or, you can accept that people wanna hug you, get some hugs, and be done with it.”

“Hoshi, it’s fine.”

She clicked her tongue, rolling her eyes with a quiet, “Oh, my god.”

Travis held his ground. “Hoshi, I’m serious. I’m just being weird, I-!”

In what could have been one fluid motion, Hoshi had risen from her chair, hoisted him to his feet, and yanked him into a tight hug. Travis’ brain went offline for a good few moments. When he became aware again, he could hear his heart pounding. He felt that relief coming over him in waves, and as the tears started to well up all over again, he couldn’t help but silently curse his eyes.

“Travis,” Hoshi said firmly, lightly squeezing to emphasize her point. “You’re not being weird. No one is going to think you’re being weird. Certainly not any of our friends.”

Travis tried to ignore the way his heart swelled and beat faster when she said the word “friends”—that did feel right, didn’t it?

“You’re not being weird,” she repeated, ignoring the change in his heartbeat. “You got hit with something, it’s making you crave human contact, and you’re trying to pretend nothing’s wrong. And while that’s infuriating—which I say because I’m your friend and I care about you—if anyone thinks you’re just being weird for wanting a hug, I will personally kick their asses.”

Travis was silent for a moment, unable to speak.

Apparently that made Hoshi nervous. “Is this okay?” she asked, almost timid.

Travis couldn’t help the breathy laugh that punched out of him. In the absence of his ability to breathe, he sniffled. “Yeah,” he whispered, not trusting his voice. “Yeah, this is okay.”

He finally wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on her shoulder. She brought a hand up between his shoulder blades, pressing as firmly as she had with her other hand, gently thumbing over his spine. Squeezing just a little harder, Travis took a shaky breath, leaning his head against hers. He chuckled thinly when she returned both gestures.

“Thanks, Hosh.”

“No problem, Travis.”

Chapters:

1 || 2 (you are here) || 3 || 4 || 5 ||

[writingsfromstarfleet]

[T’Pol] One In The Same 

♫ - Strangers - Ethel Cain

In life, you weren't exactly what people would call popular. You were more so an outcast, and quite simply, you preferred to be left to your own devices. This became a reoccurring theme through your life, and it wasn't such a bad thing. Through your schooling years at Starfleet and your eventual place in the crew of the Enterprise, you were simply the quiet one who did their job and got on with the day.

That was until T'Pol joined the crew.

Suddenly you were not the quietest, nor the most mysterious; she had taken your place. You caught sight of her in the hallways every now and then, often times you would see her making her way to a table in the mess hall, always alone. To anyone else, it seemed she didn't want the company, but to you, it seemed as though she didn't know how to ask for it.

Vulcans were not your area of expertise, quite the opposite. You knew they were a proud people who valued logic over emotion, and that made you wonder if the reason she sat alone was simply because it was logical. It made no sense to you, but you wondered nonetheless. T'Pol held herself with an air of grace, even whilst eating, and though you hated being watched yourself, you couldn't help but stare. The calm demeanour she had always transferred to any scenario, and you found yourself wanting to learn more about the woman.

The mess hall was fairly quiet, one or two people dotted around, and you walked in to find T'Pol in her usual space in the corner, silently eating away alone. Grabbing your own food, you made your way to her table and smiled at her, T'Pol now looking at you with one raised eyebrow. She looked very adorable, you thought, but pulled your thoughts back to the present as you hear her voice.

"Do you require help, Ensign?"

"Not at all," you replied, motioning down to the chair in front of her. Never had you been so bold. "May I?"

Her face seemed slightly annoyed, if Vulcans could express such a thing, but she nodded anyway and allowed you to join her. The first few minutes were silent, the two of you just eating, and you had quickly realised that the Vulcan was not going to be the first to start a conversation.

"So," you began, light-hearted and cheerful. "How was your food?"

"The same as always, Ensign." Her deadpan voice seemed bored, but you persevered.

"I noticed you never eat meat, are you a vegetarian?"

"By nature, Vulcans do not consume meat, no. We are vegetarians."

"That's really cool, I never knew that" you laughed a little, and for a moment T'Pol's shoulders seemed to relax.

"You know, I'm also quite a quiet person myself, I never really go out of my way to socialise. I love being on my own so much, I liked to do things by myself. I've never seen anyone like myself before, everyone here is bright and friendly, always talking with each other and spending free days together. I hope this isn't too bold, but I see myself in you a lot, and I was wondering if maybe you would want to get to know each other better? I could use a friend, and I thought maybe you could, too."

T'Pol stared at you, the face she had was unreadable. You thought you had offended her as she sat there for a few moments silently. Sensing the conversation was going nowhere, you sighed.

"Sorry, I feel like I'm annoying you, I'll leave you be. You just looked lonely is all, I see you sitting here every day on your own and I thought it might be nice to try to get to know you. I'm sorry if I did make you uncomfortable."

You stood, ready to leave, hands on your tray.

"I am not uncomfortable. Stay, please, ensign." T'Pol was looking at you, a sense of hope in her eyes that you wouldn't leave. You sat back down, ready to hear what she was about to say.

"I do sit alone because I believe it is better for me that way. Though, sometimes I do wish I had that company, you are correct. No one on this ship outside of the senior officers has bothered to try and talk to me, you are an exception, Ensign. Thank you for trying, I appreciate it, however different it may look."

You smiled. "That's okay, I'm glad you didn't feel as alone today. My name is Y/N, by the way, if you'd prefer calling me that."

"As am I, Y/N." You liked the way your name sounded from her. "Perhaps we could do this again tomorrow?" T'Pol's voice suggested she was unsure of how you would react, one may even call the tone one of nerves. Still, your head nodded and her face looked relieved.

"We certainly can."

That was the start of something new.

[thebearthatreads]

In the Academy

When Spock had decided to join Starfleet he was not expecting a distant relative and his mother to both burden him with delivering gifts.

“Spock, I understand you are travelling to Earth to study at Starfleet Academy.” T’Pol was a distant relation, but considering her time served with Starfleet Spock supposed it was not unusual she would reach out to him now.

“Indeed, I am departing for Earth in two days’ time.”

“Would you take this letter with you, along with a small gift for my friend Hoshi Sato.” T’Pol offered an envelope and small box wrapped in ribbon to Spock.

“Would it not be more efficient to send correspondence to her electronically?”

“It would, but then it would not arrive at the same time as the physical gift.” She paused for a moment, ��Besides, from my time on the Enterprise I found it helpful to have someone I could talk to in Vulcan. Using my request to deliver these items will provide you a meeting with someone who can correspond with you in Vulcan.”

“I see. Very well, my mother has also requested I deliver a letter to Hoshi Sato – it appears she served as my mother’s tutor back when she was first learning Vulcan.” Gingerly Spock took the envelope and gift from T’Pol, putting them aside. “Is that all?”

“Yes, that is all.” It was odd but Spock could have sworn he saw a smile upon T’Pol’s face as she left the estate.

-

Upon reaching Starfleet Academy and settling into his quarters, Spock set out to find Hoshi Sato. The academy campus was expansive but the xenolinguistics annex was rather small in comparison to the other buildings. It was at least all laid out in a logical manner, Spock had no trouble finding the staff offices and in a few short minutes was knocking on the door for Professor Hoshi Sato.

“Come in,” A steady yet frail voice calls out from behind the door.

“Excuse me, Professor Sato.” Spock steps in as the door slides open.

“Are you in one of my classes?” Professor Sato is a rather small woman, shrunken with age, her back is to Spock as she tends to a small window planter.

“Not as of yet Professor, I do intend to take some of your classes though xenolinguistics is not my field of study. I’m actually here on behalf of my family, both my mother and distant cousin wished for me to bring you a gift.”

“Oh?” Professor Sato turns from her planter to look at Spock, “Ah, you must be Spock.”

“That is indeed my name. You were expecting me then Professor?” Spock has a habit of raising his eyebrows when caught off guard. A grin spreads across the wrinkled face of Professor Sato.

“Hoshi, please call me Hoshi. I wasn’t expecting you but from your voice I could tell you were Vulcan, besides you said your mother and a distant cousin wanted to send me something so of course you could only be Spock. Your mother was one of my best students, I remember Amanda fondly… and T’Pol well she’s the only Vulcan I could call a close friend, certainly the only Vulcan who would go through the trouble of asking a distant cousin to deliver something to me.”

“Professor,” Spock stops as he notices the crease in Hoshi’s forehead, “Sorry, Hoshi. These are the letters and gifts I was asked to bring you.”

“Thank you, Spock. Would you care for a cup of tea? I have a lovely blend of Vulcan tea I can brew for you.” It’s almost unnoticeable when Hoshi switches to speaking in Vulcan, there is no hesitating or pondering of words.

“Thank you, Hoshi. That would be nice.” He takes the seat she offers him as she hurries to prepare the tea. “Your Vulcan is excellent.”

“Oh, high praise. I’ve had many years to perfect it, though there are still some words that escape me at times. T’Pol actually helped me quite a bit, it’s helpful to have a native speaker guide you.” Hoshi pours the tea out into two separate cups and brings it over, “Do you mind staying here while I read the letters? My eyesight is starting to go and I’m sure T’Pol’s written in Vulcan so I could use an extra set of eyes.”

“Of course, I will help as best I can.” Spock’s quite pleased by how well Hoshi’s brewed the tea, he enjoys sipping it in silence as Hoshi opens the letters and begins to read them.

“Hmm,” Hoshi pauses in her reading to retrieve a set of glasses from a desk draw. “Oh, I see.”

A soft giggle from Hoshi as she reads causes Spock to raise a single eyebrow, it seems she is reading the letter from T’Pol so he is curious why it would cause her to laugh.

“Is there something funny?”

“Oh, just a little sarcastic humour, classic T’Pol.” Hoshi’s mouth quirks into a smile.

“Sarcasm, I did not think she would indulge in such a human concept.”

“Is it a human concept? I’ve met many Vulcans who seem to indulge in it… or perhaps that’s just a misconception.” Hoshi sets the letter down on her desk to drink some of her own tea before starting on the letter from Amanda.

-

When Spock had first arrived on Earth and made the acquaintance of Professor Hoshi Sato, he’d never expected to be conscripted into helping with her Vulcan language classes. He’d been rather caught off guard when she enlisted him as a teacher’s aide, and felt uncomfortable at the prospect of turning the sweet old woman down when she had been nothing but kind to him since his arrival.

“Spock, I know you’re graduating soon but I here you intend to spend time teaching while you wait for an official appointment?” Hoshi had made it a rule that they strictly spoke Vulcan when they were meeting to discuss lesson plans over a weekly tea session. Her reasoning was it helped keep her skills from getting rusty.

“Yes, that is correct.” Spock tried to not look directly at Hoshi’s piercing gaze.

“Then perhaps, you’d consider taking over my classes on Vulcan?”

“Why would I do that? You are perfectly adept at teaching the Vulcan language and have an advanced understanding of our culture. My own mother was taught by you.” There was something unnerving Spock had found at having an old woman stare you down, specifically having Hoshi crease her eyes and furrow her brow as she pursed her lips.

“Spock, I’m over a hundred years old. It may not seem so old to you Vulcans, but I’m tired and I’d really like to retire… Problem is my best student lives on Vulcan, your mother would have been the ideal candidate to pass this task onto.” Hoshi took a big breathe, “There’s no other students I’ve had who’ve mastered Vulcan well enough for me to entrust them with teaching. Please Spock, you’re the best choice and I’ve already got replacements lined up for my other classes. Vulcan is the only class I need you to take over, and it won’t interfere with your other classes… I’ve already checked.”

There was that classic cheeky grin, Spock should have known Hoshi had already checked all the details.

“Very well, I am acquainted with your teaching curriculum already. I suppose you had this in mind when you first asked me to be your TA?”

“It was your mother’s suggestion actually, do you remember the letter you brought me when you first arrived at the academy?” A soft chuckle leaves Hoshi’s mouth as Spock nods in acknowledgment. “Well she asked if I wouldn’t mind taking you under my wing, give you a safe space to feel accepted. Consider this my way of showing how much I like you Spock, this’ll give you the opportunity to engage more with the cadets whilst also helping inform them of your culture.”

“My other classes will allow me to carry this out,”

“Yes, I’m sure they will. But Spock, you’re extremely guarded and pardon me but you’re very Vulcan. You need to relax sometimes Spock or at least engage a bit more, and honestly I think you’ll find it easiest to do that by teaching Vulcan and being able to converse with others in Vulcan, some of the cadets might surprise you.” Hoshi cuts him off, fixing him with a hard stare.

“Very well, I will take over your class. As a favour to my mother and as thanks for your aid over these past few years.” Spock thought the urge to avert his eyes, Hoshi’s face lit up with a large smile at his response.

-

Nyota Uhura loved learning new languages, it was part of the reason she applied to Starfleet. In her first year at the academy she’d been thrilled to cram her schedule with various language classes, most of all she’d been excited to study Denobulan, Klingon and Vulcan under the renowned Professor Hoshi Sato.

Vulcan had rapidly become one of her favourite languages to study with its intricate nature and complicated forms of pronunciation; though her roommate Gaila insisted it was because of the cute teacher’s assistant. Honestly Nyota hadn’t paid much attention to the teaching assistant, she knew he was Vulcan but he seemed rather cold and abrasive… though from what she’d learnt that wasn’t uncommon in Vulcans.

But then in her third year of studies things became rather interesting and she found her curiosity about the Vulcan TA was peaked.

“Attention class, I’m sorry to announce today will be my last day teaching you all. As you’ve probably noticed, I’m rather old.” Professor Sato chuckled to herself before continuing, “Anyway, it’s high past time I retired and I finally have someone I think is up to the task of taking over for me teaching Vulcan. So without further ado I want to introduce Commander Spock as your new teacher. You’ve all seen him here before working as my teaching assistant and I’m sure you’ve all noticed he is Vulcan so be sure to make the most of having him as your teacher.”

There was a series of murmurs through the lecture hall as Commander Spock stepped up to the podium.

“Thank you, Professor Sato. I will endeavour to do you justice and put the maximum amount of effort into teaching this class.” Commander Spock then turned to face the class, “Professor Sato will be sitting in on today’s class, though I will be the one teaching today so please direct any questions to me.”

With all that said Commander Spock dived into the day’s curriculum.

-

When class ended for the day Nyota was surprised to be stopped on her way out of the lecture theatre.

“Miss Uhura, would you mind staying back for a moment?” Professor Sato had grabbed her arm lightly as she passed by.

“No, of course not Professor.” Nyota smoothed down her uniform skirt as she stood waiting for the rest of the cadets to file out.

“Thank you for waiting, Miss Uhura.” Professor Sato face wrinkled as she smiled, turning to face Commander Spock who was about to exit the room himself. “Spock, if you wouldn’t mind taking a moment before heading to your next class.”

“I am in quite a rush Professor, as I am sure you are aware my next class is across campus.”

“I’ll only take a second of your time, please Spock entertain an old woman on her last day teaching?”

“Very well Professor, please make it quick.” Nyota tried to keep her eyes averted as Professor Sato and Commander Spock conversed.

“Of course, Commander Spock this is Nyota Uhura. She’s the top student in this class, and all my other xenolinguistic classes.” Professor turned from Commander Spock and beamed a smile at Nyota, “Taking into account that you’ve just started teaching you may find it helpful to enlist a teaching assistant, if I may I’d like to suggest Miss Uhura – she has a fine grasp of Vulcan language.”

“Oh, you flatter me Professor.” Tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, Nyota finds her eyes moving up from the floor to focus on the commander standing directly in front of her.

“I will take note of your recommendation Professor, now I must be going to my next class.” Commander Spock is about to exit the room when he turns around “It was pleasant making your acquaintance Miss Uhura.”

-

“Then he just walks out of the room?” Gaila hasn’t stopped asking Nyota questions since she returned to the room. “Seriously? No handshake?”

“Gaila, he was in a hurry. And touching, even just grazing fingertips is a very intimate action for Vulcan’s… haven’t you been paying attention at all in class?”

“Uh, I mean yeah I’ve been paying attention. But the man is a tall glass of water, and isn’t he supposedly half-human?”

“You mean, you’ve been ogling him and kind of paying attention to the course material. Half-human or not he was raised Vulcan, so it’d still be rather unconventional and uncomfortable for him I would think.” Nyota fixes Gaila with a firm glare as she wiggles her eyebrows at Nyota. “Anyway have you seen my quantum physics textbook?”

“Are you still taking that class?”

“Yes, of course I am Gaila. It’s important to know a variety of things when serving on a starship!” Leaning to look under her bed Nyota’s pleased to discover the text in question, “Found it!”

“So any idea if Commander Spock intends to take you on board as his TA?” With significant emphasis Gaila leans forward on her bed.

“No, he said he’d take Professor Sato’s recommendation into account but we’ll just have to wait and see.” Playfully Nyota thumps Gaila’s leg with her textbook before leaving for her next class. “And I don’t want to hear any more on this when I get back.”

-

Spock was finding himself stretched thin between the various classes he was teaching, and indeed had found himself missing the weekly tea sessions with Hoshi. To replace the tea sessions he’d started to engage in more frequent communications with his mother.

“So how’s teaching, are you enjoying it?” His mother asked as they commenced their weekly conversation.

“It is fine, mother… though I must admit it can be rather taxing.”

“Hoshi said she recommended you take aboard a teaching assistant, have you given that any further thought?”

“I have considered it, but I have not had the time as of yet to search for an appropriate candidate.”

“Why not trust Hohi’s judgement and just go with the student she suggested?” It was more a statement than a question as Amanda fixed her eyes on her son through the monitor.

“It would be unfair to the other students if I did not take the appropriate time to analyse the data and choose the most qualified candidate. Besides, that would only provide me aid in one subject. I am confident that upon conducting a finer survey of student data there will be an appropriate candidate who is taking at least 2 of my classes.” Spock noticed the less than enthusiastic smile his mother conjured up at his response, but chose not to comment on it.

“Very well, I’m sure you’ll manage… Oh, your father’s just returned would you like to speak with-

“Sorry, mother. I must go, there is a faculty meeting this evening and I am told my attendance is mandatory.  Live long and prosper.” At the mention of his father Spock found himself cutting his mother off and ending the call with a Ta’al.

He felt bad for ending their weekly call so abruptly but he did have a faculty event to go to, Captain Pike was adamant that Spock needed to engage more.

-

Cramming her schedule to the brim with different subjects had seemed like a decent plan when she first started at the academy. But now it was becoming a hassle, so Nyota found herself pouring over her schedule for classes she could cut back on.

“I guess I could put off Denobulan, I can always finish studying it once I’m in service. And I don’t really need to take the piloting classes seeing as I’m training to be a comms officer.” She bit into the end of her pen before hesitantly crossing the subjects off her course sheet.

“Are you still working on lowering your course load? How’d they even let you take that many classes?” Gaila leaned over her shoulder.

“Well, they couldn’t refuse when I managed to point out that they were on different days at different times and could all be fitted into a schedule without conflict.” Nyota leaned back into her chair sighing, “But they weren’t wrong, it’s no easy task balancing such a full course load.”

“Yeah, but you love challenging yourself, you know once you cut down on classes you’re going to have a bunch of free time.”

“I’m sure I’ll find some way to fill it up… I’ve been meaning to get back into my music studies,”

“OH, OH, then we should totally do a weekly karaoke then! There’s an awesome music setup in the recreation centre.”  

“Maybe, we’ll see.” Nyota shrugged Gaila off, “Okay, I’ve got to go hand in my reconfigured schedule.”

-

It had been irksome scanning through all the class records only to find Professor Sato had indeed recommended the best candidate, not that Spock would admit that. Nyota Uhura not only excelled at Vulcan but was studying a number of science and engineering subjects, she would no doubt be able to assist him with any of his classes. Over a month had passed since he’d taken up teaching, he could only hope that Miss Uhura was still interested in a teaching assistant position.

As the end of the morning’s Vulcan class drew near he prepared himself to ask Miss Uhura to take up the position.

“That is all for today, there is a vocabulary test tomorrow so I expect you all to study.”

-

Nyota took a deep breath before putting away her class materials, she had an engineering class to get to on communication systems. At a light jog she went to exit the classroom when she was stopped.

“Miss Uhura, do you have a minute?” Her ponytail flipped over her shoulder as she turned around to look at Commander Spock.

“I’ve got a specialisation class to get to but I can spare a minute, Commander.” She resisted the urge to pull at her uniform skirt as the Vulcan stared at her.

“Thank you, I won’t keep you long. I wanted to ask if you are still interested in becoming a Teaching Assistant, I find I am in need of one.” Looking at him closely Nyota could definitely see why Gaila kept calling him a tall glass of water.

“Um,” Nyota cursed herself for being distracted, taking a breath to compose herself before answering. “I am still interested, but if you don’t mind I’d like some time to think about it. Can I give you an answer after tomorrow’s vocabulary test?”

“Of course, I will await your response.” With that Commander Spock nodded and headed off presumably to his next class.

-

“So, you gonna take him up on it or what?” Gaila crooned as she brushed out her hair.

“Hmm, I think so. You know, I’ve got a lot of extra time and I hear working as a TA can really improve your understanding of course material.” Nyota slowly switched her earrings in front of the mirror, “Which is better, the blue or the gold?”

“Gold, definitely.” Gaila briefly turned to observe Nyota, “So then, you’re going to spend plenty of time up close and personal with Commander Gorgeous?”

“Would you not call him that Gaila, it’s disrespectful.”

“Fine, fine. Do you need a hand with that zip?” Gaila pouted, standing behind Nyota.

“Yes please.” Nyota double checked her makeup in the mirror as Gaila began zipping up her dress, “Now remember, we’re only going for an hour. We have to study for tomorrow’s vocab test.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m just happy you agreed to come to Karaoke with me.” There was that signature grin of Gaila’s, Nyota rolled her eyes.

-

Gaila had obviously refused to return to their dorm after the first hour of Karaoke, but Nyota had been firm and left to study. So it was no wonder Nyota found herself forcing her roomie out of bed the next morning.

“Come on Gaila, we don’t have time for this! We’re going to be late for taking the vocab test in Vulcan!”

“Ughh, just leave me here. I want to sleep…” moaned Gaila as Nyota pulled her from the bed.

“Not a chance, no way, now let’s go.” Luckily for Nyota, Gaila had a habit of wearing her uniform out and while she might not like turning up to class in yesterday’s uniform she wasn’t in a position to argue. “Come on, I’ve got your bag ready for you so all you have to do is get up.”

“Ugh, you’re so mean in the morning.” Nyota just grinned at her clearly hungover Orion roommate and best friend as she stumbled out of the bed and grabbed her bag. “Okay, I’m coming alright.”

-

“That ends the time for today’s vocabulary test.” Testing could be tiresome according to the other teaching staff there wasn’t much more to be done than watching and waiting. However Spock had utilised the time to go over some of his other class materials.

“Commander, can I have a moment of your time?” As the students filtered out Nyota Uhura stopped in front of him.

“Of course, Miss Uhura.”

“In regards to the teaching assistant position, I’d like to take you up on that offer.”  A slight smile found its way onto Spock’s face.

“Very well, meet me in my office tomorrow to begin going over the course work.”

“Thank you, Commander. I assure you I am the best choice for this job, I look forward to working with you.” Miss Uhura said, expressing her gratitude by thanking him in Vulcan.

The next day Spock and Nyota would commence working with each other closely, sparking the start of an intriguing friendship and later relationship. But at that moment, they did not know what awaited them.

[talshiargirlfriend]

This was s’posed to be a drabble, but they really wanted to have the whole conversation and I am unable to deny them. 💕

“So how do you wanna handle this?” Trip asks softly as they lie together on his bunk. T’Pol’s head rests on his chest, and he inhales the scent of her shampoo - a sort of spicy citrus aroma with an earthy - vulcany? his brain suggests unhelpfully - undertone. He’s pretty sure she’d say it’s illogical that a scent borne of a foreign planet can evoke feelings of home in him, but that doesn’t make it any less true. One of these days he’s going to tell her just so he can see that look she gets on her face when she thinks she should be exasperated but she’s actually quite pleased. It’s one of his favorites.

T’Pol shifts a little in his grasp so she can look at his face, “What do you mean?”

For an instant anxiety runs its icy finger up his spine: what if she denies what they mean to each other? He rubs his hand along her arm in silence. She waits patiently, content to lie here with him, in his arms, in his bed. He varies the pattern and placement of his touch because she finds too much of the same thing uncomfortable. Overstimulating.

“I know you value privacy, and I respect that,” he continues. “I just don’t know if I can keep us a secret… and I don’t think I want to.”

Her lips purse while she considers this. “It need not be secret, Trip, but I do consider our personal relationship private.”

That’s fair. “So if someone were to ask me if we’re together-?”

“You’re referring to Lieutenant Reed,” she states.

He laughs, “Yeah. So…?”

“Confirming a relationship exists would be acceptable. However, I would find the sharing of intimate details … distasteful.”

“I’ve never really been one to kiss and tell. I just… I guess I’m kinda worried that my idea of what qualifies as an intimate detail might not always match yours. I mean, everybody on this ship probably knows my birthday, but you didn’t tell me your age till a couple years ago and we were… well, we were good friends,” he raises his eyebrows slightly.

T’Pol tilts her head in acknowledgment before dropping her head back onto his chest. He squeezes her gently and waits; she doesn’t like to make eye contact when she’s being vulnerable.

“Trip,” she begins, drawing her hand along his rib cage and then holding it over his heart. He feels anchored and secure when she does that.

“When we are alone I am able to relax my discipline somewhat. I entrust aspects of myself to you that I don’t share elsewhere. They are not for anyone else. Do you understand?”

and… “Yeah, I think I do. You know things about me I wouldn’t share with anyone else.”

T’Pol shifts onto her elbow and looks him in the eye, “I trust your judgment.”

She has effectively melted that little bout of anxiety away, but he’s at a loss for how to respond. I love you sticks in his throat. Trip isn’t sure they’re ready for that, so he settles on “thank you” and a kiss brushed over her forehead.

“So… when Malcolm asks me if we’re together I’m good to say yes, but I probably shouldn’t mention that I had the best sex of my life tonight. Got it,” he serves.

She gives him a stern look and volleys, “When you speak to Lieutenant Reed, it would be highly inappropriate to mention that you recently engaged in the best sex of your life thus far.”

“Thus far, huh?”

She gives him the faintest smirk that he is all too happy to kiss off her face. God, he really does love her.

[talshiargirlfriend]

Guess what I’m going to ask about!

Did you guess Spy-ay-ay-ay? 😁❤️🙏

I need you to know that I was planning to leave off any that had been asked about last time, but then I thought “I have to keep spy-ay-ay-ay for sumire!” 😅

The AU not-a-fic that has haunted me all year.

Double feature ✨vibes✨

Trip stared at her, incredulous. “I’m sorry. Let me get this straight. You’re telling me you’ve kept current on warp field developments, as a hobby, in your free time from being a spy?”

T’Pol blinked and responded seriously, “It is a fascinating field of study.”

And part two, the conversation alluded to in the ballroom scene:

As the rest of the team headed out for lunch, Trip slumped down at his computer terminal to read the message again and have a good old-fashioned sulk.

Clearly things hadn’t been that serious between him and Natalie - she’d never even visited for the weekend when he’d invited her - hadn’t so much as seen his apartment here - but still.

A single line of text brushing him off. Signed Love, Nat. She hadn’t even bothered to change the automatic signature, he noted sourly.

“Commander?” T’Pol lingered in the doorway. “May I ask you something?”

“Sure, T’Pol, come on in,” he sighed. With Captain Jefferies in meetings all day, Trip was acting head of the project. He sat up straight and tried to look the part. “What can I do for you?”

She seemed oddly hesitant. “Are you displeased with the team’s performance?”

“What? No, things are going great.” Had he unintentionally said something insulting? He didn’t think he’d been particularly critical. “Did I say something harsh?”

“No,” she assured him. After a pause she added, “However, you are less… enthusiastic than usual. I wondered if perhaps there was something amiss.”

Trip snorted, “Nothing amiss here in the lab. Just woke up to a ‘Dear John’ this morning.”

At her puzzled look, he clarified, “Girlfriend broke up with me.”

T’Pol’s eyes widened and she looked down. She seemed uncomfortable, even a little embarrassed. “I apologise for intruding on a personal matter.”

“Nah, it’s ok. It’s kinda nice you noticed, actually. It’s just - she couldn’t even be bothered to call! Just dumped me via text! Makes a guy feel kinda worthless, you know?” He tried to shrug it off.

She frowned slightly as if considering whether she did in fact know, and then did that little head tilt that reminded him of a woodland creature. “You possess many positive attributes,” she ventured.

Trip grinned at that. “Well, thank you, SubCommander. I appreciate your assessment. C’mon, let’s get out of here. I’ll buy you lunch.”

“Are we not joining the others in the dining hall?”

“Figure of speech,” he said as he briefly placed a hand on her back to gently guide her out into the corridor. “You sure I wasn’t rude to anyone?” he asked with a sidelong glance.

“You were somewhat brusque with Mr Rostov, but he did not appear offended.”

“I doubt he even noticed. He only has eyes for Kelly.”

“He is enamoured with his mate,” T’Pol agreed.

Trip chuckled, “Enamoured, yes. Mate, no. Maybe someday. He’ll have to admit to himself he has a crush on her first.”

T’Pol raised an eyebrow at that. “I confess my understanding of Human mating customs is limited. They seem needlessly complicated to me.”

Trip leaned in conspiratorially, “If it makes you feel any better, we don’t really understand them ourselves.”

She gave him a hint of a smile, and it made him feel lighter somehow.

-

Thank you for the ask and the continued enabling encouragement! 💕

( @deadheaddaisy peep your babies getting a mention 😁)

[giffingthingsss]

The Trip/T’Pol scenes in The Good That Men Do. I compiled this mainly for myself, but just in case anyone else needs therapy, here. I trimmed, especially the explanations that people who watched the show don’t need.

Spoilers. Finish the show first. 

[Trip:] “Minister, if it’s all the same to you, we’d like to begin the ceremony for Elizabeth now.”

T’Pau nodded, almost imperceptibly. “Certainly. The priests have prepared the chamber for you. They have only to deliver the vessel containing the child.” She turned to walk away...

 “Thank you,” T’Pol said, her voice flat, and quieter than normal. She turned to look at Trip, her dark eyes wide.

He hesitated for only a moment before reaching out and pulling her into a hug with his uninjured right arm. He felt her frame stiffen against him before relaxing almost imperceptibly...

During the few days since Elizabeth’s death, Trip and T’Pol had tried to comfort each other, but something seemed fundamentally broken now. Even when Phlox had related his subsequent discovery that whatever incompatibilities might exist between human and Vulcan DNA wouldn’t prevent Trip and T’Pol from reproducing together in the future, the news had seemed depressing rather than hopeful.

Now, Trip felt T’Pol push away from him, away from his embrace, away from the safety of his arms, away from his emotions. She did not look up at him, but turned quickly.

“We should go,” he heard her say, but all the strength was gone from her voice. She may not have been crying outwardly—her face displayed no emotion—but Trip had never heard her sound so…crushed.

As T’Pol walked away, he couldn’t help but wonder if this was really the moment when their relationship finally ended.

Meditating here, in front of the sepulchers that contained the remains of her mother and of her own daughter, T’Pol felt herself clinging to the hope that neither of them was truly gone. That perhaps their katras did exist, perhaps embedded in the very stone, sand, and soil of this hallowed place.

Of course, she also had to admit to herself that her hope was undeniably born of emotion...There were times when she blamed [trellium damage] for her continued feelings for Charles Tucker, and yet she knew that even that explanation was disingenuous. Love, while commonly thought of as an emotion, was certainly possible for even the most logical and restrained of Vulcans.

Partners loved each other, family members loved each other…it wasn’t the love itself that was the issue, it was the emotions that accompanied it. Joy, sadness, ambivalence, anger, fear, comfort—all of these had come to her, and had sometimes threatened to overwhelm her, during the times she’d shared with Trip.

Even now, as she looked over to him, kneeling on the stone floor, his head bowed in prayer, tears streaming down his dusty cheeks, T’Pol felt herself torn. She wanted to go to him. She wanted to comfort him and seek his comfort in turn, but she also wanted to reject him, to gird herself against weakness and vulnerability.

She knew that their love was undeniable. Just as she knew it was untenable.

Unbidden, she felt a sharp laugh escape her throat from deep within her. It was a laugh born not of mirth, but rather spawned by something very akin to despair. It seemed to echo inside the chamber for an uncomfortable eternity, though she supposed it had probably remained in the air only long enough to cause Trip to open his eyes and look at her.

In that moment, she was lost. T’Pol squeezed her eyes tightly, willing away the tears that welled up in them. She clenched her teeth as her lips trembled. She felt the IDIC symbol that hung from the chain around her neck...The metal and stone in the symbol were cold in her hand. Cold and dead. As was her mother. And her child.

No. Their child was dead.

In the short time she had known Elizabeth, she was astonished at the instinctual bond she’d shared with the tiny creature. The girl had laughed and cooed several times, but mostly she had just stared at T’Pol and Trip with those dark, round eyes, a sense of nearly complete serenity radiating from the core of her being. Even while in the throes of her terminal fever and sickness, if T’Pol and Trip were both present, Elizabeth had barely cried. It was as if she suppressed only the negative emotions, allowing only the positive ones to come through.

Was that happiness and calm related to the synthesis of her parents’ Vulcan and human DNA, or had it been a function of her individual personality? The answer to that question would never be known.

T’Pol felt herself trembling, could hear a keening sound she knew was coming from within her. The waves of loss rolled through her mind, washing over every emotional barrier she possessed.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, and opened her eyes. Through the blur of unshed tears, she saw Trip in front of her, tears streaming down his own face. This was a recently familiar sight; he had cried in her quarters last week, and then again several times during the Coridanite ship’s flight from Earth to Vulcan. But this time, she was crying with him.

Every part of her wanted him to enfold her in his arms, wanted him to protect her from her own feelings. But he was more emotional than she was. She knew that the more she was with him, the more she would lose control of herself, of the carefully constructed mental barriers she had erected, of the intense passions they kept at bay.

She was broken inside, and she knew that both now and in the future, Trip would only keep the fractures open.

Their child was dead. And she knew that their feelings for each other must, by necessity, by logic, die as well.

And yet, through her tears, she saw her own arms reaching out for him, saw him moving toward her, felt the comfort of his embrace, the strength within him.

For a long time, they held each other and cried, for all the losses of their past, their present, and, perhaps, of their future.

As the trio moved through the hallways to a docking pad and boarded Shuttlepod One to return to Enterprise, Archer couldn’t help noting not only that Trip and T’Pol were not talking much, but also that they both seemed to be going out their way to avoid making any kind of physical contact.

It’s to be expected, I guess, Archer thought.

“Our intelligence sources show strong indications that the Romulans are on the verge of perfecting a new generation of starships, vessels capable of reaching speeds of at least warp seven.”

Trip couldn’t keep his jaw from falling open. “Warp seven...”

Trip gripped the sides of his desk tightly. His head was spinning, and only in part because of all the tequila he’d just consumed with Malcolm. “How do you know all this, Harris?”

“As Lieutenant Reed has no doubt already told you, Commander, I am part of an organization that has access to numerous intelligence networks and other resources, including some not immediately available either to Starfleet or most of the other agencies of United Earth’s government.”

...Trip blinked in surprise. “Why contact me?”

“Because your skills could prove invaluable to us, Commander. We need engineers capable of neutralizing the Romulans’ plans directly. People like you who already have a hands-on grasp of the inner workings of Romulan technology.”

..“All right. I’m in,” Trip said at length. “At least until we get done neutering this Romulan invasion. “Just tell me what I have to do.”

“Harris plans on putting me under deep cover. From the sound of it, it’ll involve some surgical alterations, to make me look like a Romulan.” 

...“Do they know what the Romulans look like?” 

Trip shrugged. “Harris says they don’t. But they have connections with people who do. People who supposedly can make me look enough like one of them to pass.”

“Well, at least we know they’re humanoid,” Archer said, half under his breath.

...“I’ll be working alongside one of their most experienced operatives.” Trip said. “Our job will be to infiltrate their new stardrive project and sabotage it. They need someone with engineering experience to pull this off. That’s why they can’t use Malcolm.”

...“If you feel that the threat is real enough for you to take a leap like this, Trip, I’ll do my best to make it easy for you. I’ll approve an extended leave of absence.”...

“Actually, Captain, I won’t need a leave of absence,” Trip said quietly as Archer took another swallow from his coffee cup. “Because I need to die first.”

...“Now you’re talking crazy talk,” Archer said, frowning.

“No, think of it as a kind of witness protection plan. If I’m dead, it insulates Enterprise, and Earth—and my family and friends—from any sort of retaliation or repercussion. Politically or otherwise.” ...

“What about your family? They’ve already lost your sister.” Archer hesitated for a moment, knowing he was treading on shaky ground, then decided it would be better to forge ahead. “And what about T’Pol? Are you really ready to give up on her?”...

Trip wiped the palm of his hand across one cheek, and then the other. His voice was tremulous. “They won’t know,” he said. “They can’t know....There are two people who will have to help me with this, besides yourself. Malcolm is the one that got me into this...”

“And Phlox,” Archer said, nodding. “He’ll have to be the one to sign the death certificate.”

“Yep.”

“What about…? Are you sure?” Archer let his words trail off, trusting that Trip knew exactly who he was talking about.

“She can’t know,” Trip said, his face creasing as if he was about to weep again. “She’ll be fine. She’ll control her emotions and meditate and move on. Hell, after what we just experienced together on Vulcan, I think maybe she’s already starting to move on.”

The captain flipped the communicator’s grid open. “We need help in sickbay,” he said, his voice now sounding strained. “Trip’s been hurt.”

“Alerting sickbay personnel now,” T’Pol said, her voice issuing from the device. “What has happened?” Phlox could hear the concern in her tone as he moved to a nearby com panel to enter the command that would summon his emergency med tech staff.

“The intruders were trying to get to Shran and Theras,” Archer said to T’Pol. “Trip tried to stop them. He got caught in some kind of plasma explosion.”

Trip listened quietly to the sounds of his own death. A chill slowly navigated the length of his spine, reminding him of how his mother described that very sensation: “Somebody just walked across your grave.” ...

He closed his eyes again, and in the resulting darkness he saw a slow parade of faces.

His mother, Elaine. His father, Charles. His brother, Albert.

T’Pol.

The pain came then, like a barbed lance piercing his heart.

T’Pol reached for the small framed photograph on Trip’s desk. The image was of him scuba-diving in Earth’s Caribbean Sea...

She felt sadness welling up inside her again like a towering wave, and stopped to concentrate, willing the emotion to be suppressed....

She started to fold Trip’s uniform, but found herself, without cause, pulling it close to her face. She inhaled deeply, directing the residual musky scent of her former lover on the garment...The door to Trip’s quarters slid open, but T’Pol didn’t turn to see who was entering.

“Need any help?” Captain Archer asked, leaning against the bulkhead beside the bed.

T’Pol began refolding the uniform, handling it as though it were a precision scientific instrument. “No, thank you.”

Archer gestured toward the case she had been preparing. “For his parents?”

Nodding listlessly, T’Pol asked, “Will they still be coming to the ceremony?”

“We didn’t talk long, but I’ll try to make sure that they do. I think they know that Trip wouldn’t want it any other way.”...

Aware that the captain was watching her expectantly, she said, “I’d like to meet them.”

“His parents?” asked Archer.

“Yes, I’d like to meet them.”...

“They’re a little eccentric. I think you’ll see where Trip got his sense of humor.”

“My mother was somewhat eccentric, as well,” T’Pol said....

Archer sat on the bed and leaned toward her. “When I took command of Enterprise almost four years ago, I saw myself as an explorer. I thought all the risks would be worth it…because just beyond the next planet, just beyond the next star, there would be something magnificent. Something…noble.”

He paused, as if searching for the right words. “And now, Trip is dead…In a few weeks, I have to go give that speech at the Coalition Compact signing ceremony. I have to talk about how all the risks were worth it, about how worthwhile it’s all been…”

“Trip would be the first to say it was worthwhile,” T’Pol said, her voice barely wavering as she swallowed still more of her sorrow.

...He opened his mouth as if to say something further, then looked away, to the viewport and the warp-distorted streaks of starlight beyond. Finally, he stood and walked to the door. “I’ll leave you to finish here, T’Pol. But if you need to talk to me—even if you need to let down your famous Vulcan guard—you’re welcome to. I won’t tell.”

T’Pol regarded her captain for a moment. She wondered what he would think if she revealed that one of the last things she had told her mother before her death was that she didn’t want anything further to do with her. How would Archer feel if he were to learn that when she had first learned of little Elizabeth’s mixed parentage, she had wanted nothing more than for the child to disappear?

What would his reaction be if he knew that Trip and T’Pol had decided to break off their relationship completely on Vulcan, but that she had found among his belongings an undelivered letter written after their journey—a letter in which Trip had described his deep and full love for her, and the pain their separation was causing him?

And worst of all were her own traitorous thoughts, full of love and other emotions as well, all of which brought her anguish every time she considered life without Trip.

And now, she had no choice but to forge ahead alone. Her mother, her child, her lover. All gone.

She swallowed and blinked, masking her shame behind what she hoped was an impassive Vulcan mask. “Thank you for your offer, Captain. But I believe I can deal with such things on my own.”

The words seemed to echo in the air after Archer exited. 

On my own.

T’Pol lay her head down on one of Trip’s pillows. Then, silently, agonizingly, before she could halt them, tears rolled down her cheeks.

Although his apprehensions about what lay ahead—particularly about what awaited him in the surgical facilities—hadn’t entirely abated, they had at least receded somewhat.

Maybe I really did make the best decision I could have by agreeing to come out here, he thought. And the sooner we get the deed done, the sooner I’ll be able to tell my folks and T’Pol that “the rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated.”

That was assuming, of course, that he’d find a way to survive a sojourn in entirely unknown space, while hiding and spying among deadly adversaries, people that no one from his planet had ever even laid eyes on before.

As the sleek torpedo casing was launched into space, the majority of Enterprise’s crew who had assembled in Shuttlepod One’s launch bay stood silent, while some wept or sniffled. At the forefront of the crowd, near Captain Archer and the other command staff, T’Pol neither cried nor sniffled, nor even felt the strong need to suppress the emotions that were no longer battling within her.

The feelings that had so wracked her mental disciplines when she had been in Trip’s quarters had given way to an almost preternatural calm. She had wondered at first if she were in shock, but earlier in Trip’s memorial service, when she had touched the smooth surface of his metal coffin, another thought had sprung into her mind.

For some reason she couldn’t properly identify, touching the torpedo casing had given T’Pol a gnawing disquiet, a suspicion that something was not right. But the precise nature of that something, however, remained frustratingly obscure to her.

Now, as Trip’s casket drifted away into trackless space, T’Pol wondered idly if the decision to jettison his remains here, so far from his native Earth, was really what Trip would have wanted. But when she had brought this objection to the attention of Captain Archer and Lieutenant Reed, they had both assured her that the action had been taken to honor one of Trip’s final requests...

Oddly, not only was Archer adamant about following Trip’s wishes, he also seemed particularly intent on carrying out the memorial ceremony and services quickly, weeks before Enterprise was due to return to Earth.

It seemed to T’Pol that the logical course of action would have been to wait until Trip’s remains could be taken to Earth, so that his family, friends, and colleagues could commemorate him, and then launch Trip into space afterward. But the captain had disagreed.

T’Pol looked to the side of the launch bay, where she noticed Doctor Phlox studying her intently. She stared back at him, and they locked eyes for a moment before the Denobulan physician turned away. For some reason she could not identify, the doctor’s inquisitive stare made her apprehensive.

How much has she figured out? Phlox thought, more than a little concerned.

“Thank you for coming to see me, T’Pol,” he said, doing his best to sound casual as he gestured toward one of the sickbay’s biobeds. “I was going to request that you pay me a visit anyway, so I’m pleased that you’ve saved me the trouble.”

T’Pol leaned against the bed, keeping her hands at her sides. “Why did you wish to see me, Doctor?” she asked, one eyebrow slightly raised. She seemed to be making no effort to conceal her curiosity....

“In addition to my role as a general physician, I often function as a mental health practitioner, in lieu of any other officer aboard this ship acting in that capacity—other than Chef, I suppose.” He spread his hands and smiled widely.

“I don’t know if that’s because of my bedside manner, or because doctors are bound by their medical ethics to hold anything their patients tell them in strictest confidence, as long as it doesn’t endanger the ship.” He paused, letting his words hang in the air for a moment, but T’Pol merely stared at him curiously, making no immediate effort to step into the conversational breach.

After thirty seconds or so, she finally opened her mouth as if to speak, closed it again, then spoke at last. “Are you saying that you believe that there is something confidential that I wish to share with you?”

Phlox tilted his head, returning her curious stare with one of his own. “I didn’t say that, Commander, but if you were burdened with such a secret, I’d be more than willing to hear it—and I’d be obliged to be discreet about it.” He folded his hands in front of his stomach, waiting. Beyond his genuine concern, he also hoped to gauge exactly how much T’Pol might really suspect about the truth behind Trip’s “death.”

T’Pol dipped her head, then spoke again in a much quieter voice than usual. “I have had difficulty controlling my emotions ever since Trip’s death.”

She began twisting her hands together, evidently unconsciously. “I had a very difficult…breakdown of my emotional barriers last week, while I was packing up Trip’s personal effects.”

“That isn’t surprising,” Phlox said gently. “Losing a compatriot is difficult enough, and losing a…lover is wrenching, to say the very least. But when one factors in the extraordinary emotional strain you’ve been under lately, on Vulcan, and on Mars, this…event might be—as the humans put it—the proverbial ‘straw that broke the camel’s back.”’

She stiffened, as though offended. “I am a Vulcan.”

“T’Pol,” he continued, “Vulcans are most certainly not devoid of emotions, however adept you have become in the practice of suppressing them. Vulcans experience feelings as full and rich as those of any species. But suppressing emotions tends to put them under pressure. And when something is under too much pressure for too long, it can erupt unexpectedly, sometimes with rather alarming results.”

He turned and grabbed one of his handheld medical scanners, then approached T’Pol more closely. “Lift your head, please.” He began scanning her, holding the glowing, whirring device next to her temple.

“Were there any physical side effects to your…breakdown? Other than your eyes, I mean.” He had noticed that her nictitating inner eyelid had suffered multiple broken blood vessels, which gave their normally clear membranes a slightly lime-colored tint...

He backed away slightly to study the readings on his scanner, then set it down on a countertop and turned back to her. “Beyond recent events in your life, I can think of another possible causal factor for your recent…emotional lapse,” he said. “The aftereffects of the trellium.”...

“I have been able to control my emotions since that time,” T’Pol said, a hint of defensiveness in her voice. “Until now.”

Phlox nodded. “Have you? Or were you struggling to control them on a deeper level?” He approached her again, staring into her eyes. “I’ve seen you fighting your emotions, T’Pol. More and more....If you are susceptible to emotional outbursts due to a residual chemical imbalance in your body, it may be more harmful to you not to give in to your emotions, at least from time to time.”

T’Pol nodded, but Phlox could see that she had discarded his advice the instant he had voiced it. He stepped away and pretended to tidy up his counter.

“There is something else,” T’Pol said, her voice clearer. “Something that I do not believe can be blamed on the trellium, or on my present lack of emotional restraint.”

Phlox stiffened slightly. This is where she tells me her suspicions, he thought. He turned back toward her.

T’Pol crossed her arms across her chest and shifted her weight from foot to foot. Despite these telltale signs of nervousness, her face remained an all but inscrutable mask. “I believe that Commander Tucker is still alive...I know that it’s a logical impossibility....”

[Phlox] paused and modulated his voice. “Why do you think he isn’t dead?”

“There are…things we shared, which have forever linked us,” T’Pol said. He could tell that she was holding something back, and wondered if she was talking about a mind-meld between Trip and herself.

...”Today, when I touched the torpedo casing that contained Trip’s remains, I felt nothing but…cold. Absence. Though I know it is not logical, all my instincts told me that he was not inside the torpedo.”

“He wasn’t,” Phlox said. T’Pol looked at him inquisitively. He stepped closer to her. “The body that was in that tube was not Commander Tucker. The essence of what Trip was still exists out in the universe. He is still out there,” he said.

“More importantly, Trip is also here,” he said, touching a finger to T’Pol’s forehead. “And here.” He touched the right side of her ribcage, where he knew the Vulcan heart to be located. “And he will be with us forever.”

T’Pol stared at him, the area between her eyebrows twitching and wrinkling as she struggled with the maelstrom of emotion that was clearly roiling within her. And then, abruptly, her forehead smoothed, and she nodded.

“Thank you, Doctor,” she said.

Half an hour later, alone in sickbay, Phlox looked up from feeding his Aldebaran mud leeches. He realized, in a flash, that although he had managed to talk to T’Pol without telling her any bald-faced lies, she, too, might have pulled a canny maneuver on him.

T’Pol sat in Shuttlepod Two with the others. Ensign Mayweather was at the helm, and a pair of MACOs sat at the ready. The cabin was dimly lit, and the ship rocked sharply as they entered the troposphere of the planet.

“I went to see Phlox this morning,” the man sitting next to her said.

She turned, and was startled to see a Vulcan sitting there. Had he been there all this time? And yet, he was not a Vulcan, despite the dark hair, arched brows, gracefully pointed ears, and slightly green-tinted skin. Something about him was different, yet comfortably familiar. 

“I saw the doctor today as well,” T’Pol said, unsure of what else to say.

The man turned toward her. “Did he talk about me?” T’Pol’s eyebrow rose reflexively. “You?” “Us?”

“What about us?” T’Pol asked. “This is illogical.”

“Why’d you bring it up, then?” the man asked. The shuttle continued to rock around them, but none of the others present were speaking, as if they were frozen in place.

Exasperated, T’Pol turned and looked more closely at the man. There was something in his eyes…He smiled and winked, and then reached up to tug on the zipper at the top of his head. His skin unzipped down his forehead, over his nose and lips, down his chin, and to his chest.

T’Pol reached over and pulled apart the skin, revealing the far more familiar face underneath. Trip smiled at her, his expression both sweet and haunted. He was most certainly not dead. “Wherever you are, do you ever miss me?” she asked, pitching her voice low to prevent the others from hearing. It didn’t matter, since it appeared that they were no longer aboard the shuttlepod anyway; they were in his quarters aboard Enterprise.

He looked surprised. “You mean…”

She nodded shyly. “Yes.”

He picked up the toy armadillo from above the bed and idly played with it as he looked out the viewport at the stars, which looked like so many twinkling lights set against a black velvet curtain. “You know how long it’s been?” he finally asked.

“That’s not what I asked you,” she said, standing, nude, and approaching him from behind. He bent forward as she began applying neuropressure to his shoulders. “Well…uh…yeah…I guess, sometimes.” The remainder of the green-tinted Vulcan skinsuit began to slough away under T’Pol’s ministrations, exposing more of Trip beneath it. She grasped it in the center of his back and tore it away. The remnants fluttered to the floor and became fine gritty sand, like the parched red soil of Vulcan’s Forge.

“I haven’t thought about those days in a long time,” T’Pol said, reaching around his sides to hug him from behind. He turned around and looked down at her, smiling slightly. “Benefit of being a Vulcan.”

She lay back on the bed with him, sweat beading on her collarbone and forehead. A wave of ecstasy moved through her. His skills were so different from the savage couplings of Pon farr.

“After speaking with Doctor Phlox, I realized that we might never see each other again, dead or alive,” she said finally, the warm glow ebbing.

He climbed on top of her, pressing her down into the mattress as he placed his hands against her temples, spreading his fingers and placing his thumbs beside the bridge of her nose. “I can guarantee you that we’re not going to lose touch. My mind to your mind. Stop thinking like that. My thoughts to your thoughts.”

The tears flowed out of her again, pouring over his fingers and down her face in rivulets, filling the bed, submerging them both in seconds. Trip pulled her close as they sank into the warmth, his mouth coming to hers, his eyes seeing into her soul. 

However long it may be…I believe I’m going to miss you, she thought. And in her dreams, the tears and regret and happiness and love caused T’Pol no pain at all.

Trip could see T’Pol lying on the bed beside him, although he knew that her presence here was a physical impossibility. Even so, there she was, warm against his body, speaking with him, making love to him.

It was obvious that she was no phantom image from some transient dream; she was every bit as tangible and real as he was.

...She was here with me, right in this room, Trip thought, still unable to relinquish the sense of reality the absurd dream-reality had carried with it. I know she was here.

The power relays, Trip thought woozily. He used the power relays to stun me...

Trip fought harder than ever to move his body. He was rewarded by a loud tapping sound that he quickly realized was one of his boots coming into sharp contact with the bottom of one of the cockpit chairs. H

e was elated to have achieved movement, albeit uncontrolled. But Ehrehin must have noticed, because a second brief but crippling surge of current shot through the cable and into Trip’s body, penetrating his insulated suit as though it weren’t even there.

As consciousness began to flee behind another salvo of bright, vision-obscuring spots, his final coherent thoughts were of T’Pol, with whom he still shared an intimate if tenuous mind-link. And whom he would never again see, nor bring any succor from the grief to which he had already subjected her. 

He tumbled over the edge of oblivion wondering whether she would sense the distant echoes of his death.

“You’re saying you want to send me back to where I just came from—where I damned near died—because I’m the only one who’s already dressed for the part?”

Harris seemed not to notice Trip’s unhappy tone. “There’s no better candidate...we need you back...”

“You need me to stay dead,” Trip stated. The idea was very nearly unbearable.

 “Only for a while, Commander. A year or two, perhaps. Our most pessimistic experts foresee perhaps five years of Romulan conflict at the very outside.”

Although the Kemper family quickly passed out of his view and into the milling crowd, the child had remained in Trip’s sight long enough to churn up the painful memory of standing with T’Pol in the parched, red Vulcan desert to bury little Elizabeth.

At that instant, all the tragic might-have-beens he’d either faced or turned his back on throughout his life returned to him at once, threatening to bury him in an emotional rockslide. Not wanting to allow anyone to see a weeping Vulcan, he stuffed his rising agony back down as best he could....

Trip moved on, more determined than ever to do what he’d come here to do. His parents might not have been sufficiently trained in the art of keeping secrets to allow him to risk revealing himself to them today.

But T’Pol was a different matter. Of all the people he cared about—and had been forced to deceive so cruelly, thanks both to the Romulans and Section 31—she was certainly capable of handling the plain truth.

Archer returned to his ancient, crumbling dressing room to finish making the final preparations for his speech, for better or worse. When he opened the door, he found a black-robed male Vulcan waiting for him.

“Can I help you?” he asked....The Vulcan responded with an incongruous ear-to-ear grin—and spoke with a voice that he had half expected never to hear again.

“Cap’n, it’s me. It’s Trip.”

Turning toward T’Pol, the captain favored the Vulcan with a wry grin. “You’d better get out there. You don’t want to miss me screwing this thing up.”

T’Pol looked uncharacteristically uncomfortable. “I’m going to remain down here, if you don’t mind.”

“You never liked crowds, did you?” Archer said, smiling....he remembered the note that Trip had entrusted to him—a note that Archer hadn’t looked at and whose contents Trip hadn’t explained. He reached into his coat and extracted the single folded sheet, wondering whether it contained a final farewell—and if he’d see his oldest friend ever again.

Archer wordlessly handed her the note, then withdrew a few paces as she unfolded the paper and read its contents, her unlined face betraying not the slightest reaction as her dark eyes absorbed Trip’s message. Then something unidentifiable, and perhaps even worrisome, passed behind T’Pol’s dark eyes.

 “Are you sure you don’t want to come up and watch the speeches?” Archer asked. She nodded. 

“Thank you, Captain. I am quite certain.”

As T’Pol opened the door to Archer’s dressing room, apprehension and eagerness struggled within her even more vehemently than the debates between Sessinek, T’Karik, and Surak that her mother T’Les had told her about so often during her childhood.

She was greeted by a young-looking male Vulcan who sat in the small room’s single chair as if he had been waiting for her to arrive. The first peculiarity she noticed about him was his rather prominent brow ridge. The second was his voice. “Hello, T’Pol,” he said...

“Trip?”... A sheepish grin spread itself across the man’s face, confirming his identity as conclusively as had the sound of his voice.

“Maybe I dreamed it, but I’m pretty sure I told you we weren’t going to lose touch,” he said. He approached her and gently took the folded white sheet of paper she still carried between her suddenly nerveless fingers. “Mind if I take this back? I have to keep the fact that I’m still alive a secret. From most people, that is.”

He folded the sheet again and tucked it into a pocket inside his black traveler’s robe. It occurred to her then that the instinct she had experienced immediately after Trip’s “death” now stood vindicated. Her early, and apparently illogical, conviction that Trip—along with the mind-link she’d shared with him before their romantic entanglement had dissolved—had indeed somehow survived had been borne out.

She was dumbstruck for a seeming eternity, until she found the one word that best expressed her bewildered state of mind: “Why?” His smile faded, and a look of intense regret colored his now uncannily Vulcanoid features.

“The Romulans were about to perfect a new warp seven–capable spacedrive. Somebody had to infiltrate the project and stop them. Somebody who already had some close-up familiarity with their technology.”

“And did you succeed in stopping this project?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You know, I’m still not completely sure about that...”

“The devastation on Coridan Prime would have been far worse had we not warned them. I assume you had something to do with enabling us to do that.” She paused, then added, “You were Lazarus.” Trip nodded...

“So out of all the possible candidates in Starfleet, Starfleet Command selected you to infiltrate the Romulan Star Empire.”

“Yes. But it wasn’t exactly Starfleet Command. It’s a covert ops bureau buried deep inside Starfleet Intelligence. In fact, Starfleet Command would probably deny even knowing about it.”

“Deceit,” she said, her voice edged more sharply than she had intended. “How very human.” ...

“Humans sure as hell don’t have a monopoly on deceit.”...

She stared at him in silence, not trusting herself to speak again until she succeeded in calming her roiling emotions, or at least in centering herself somewhat. “You should have taken me into your confidence,” she said at length, finally breaking the silence that had begun to stretch awkwardly between them.

“You’re probably right, T’Pol. And I’m sorry.” His eyes glistened with regret, and she was startled when she realized that her own eyes were waging a struggle of their own against a rush of unshed tears. 

“Probably”? “Who else knows?” she said aloud. 

Tears finally began running freely down his cheeks. “Malcolm. Phlox. The captain.” Only those with an operational need to know, she thought, understanding but still somewhat resentful. And angry. And hurt. “I’m so sorry, T’Pol.”

Still battling her own emotions, she said, “I am…gratified that you survived.”

“Gratified, but also damned pissed off,” Trip said, smiling through his tears.

“Vulcans do not experience such base emotions.” 

“Horse apples they don’t.” 

“I certainly hope no one else sees you in this emotional state,” she said, though in truth she wasn’t eager to let anybody see her anytime soon either. 

“What, are you afraid I’ll give Vulcans a bad name?” Trip said, chuckling at his own comment as he wiped at his still-flowing tears with the heels of both hands. 

T’Pol stood watching him, feeling awkward and inadequate to do anything to comfort him, or herself for that matter. Her arms felt like useless vestigial appendages, so she clasped her hands behind her back to keep them out of her way.

...He had said he had been sent into the Romulan Star Empire as an infiltrator. Therefore Charles Tucker now wore the face of a Romulan. And the face of a Romulan was all but indistinguishable from that of a Vulcan. “Your…appearance suggests that Romulans and Vulcans are kindred species,” T’Pol said once she’d found her voice again. 

“Looks that way.” Oddly, her emotions began to calm now that she had an external problem of some importance with which to occupy her mind....“If the Romulans truly are a throwback to the warlike, colonizing period of our ancient ancestors, then all the Coalition worlds are in grave danger. The Romulans will never stop attacking us voluntarily.”

“I know,” Trip said. At that moment T’Pol understood with immediate, heart-breaking certainty that he intended to go back among them, and probably quite soon.... 

“The Coalition will be fragile for a long time, Trip, even after the delegates sign the Compact,” she said. 

“I figured that kind of goes without saying,” he said, regarding her with evident curiosity. “What exactly are you getting at?” 

“I speak of Vulcan’s…evident kinship with the Romulans. Should this secret ever get out, the other Coalition members—even Earth—will distrust us. The Andorians would almost certainly demand our withdrawal from the alliance, or else abandon it themselves....”

“Looks like we’ve both done the political math the same way,” he said after she’d finished making her case. “Don’t worry, T’Pol. Your people’s secret is safe with me. And I’m just as sure it’ll be safe with my…associates here on Earth. And with Captain Archer, too. As far as I know, that’s everyone else who’s seen the dirty family linen. I’m sure it’s going to be kept strictly off the record.” 

She gathered Trip’s meaning clearly, despite his often perplexing human metaphors....“And your secret is safe with me.” 

“...I finally came to understand that when I was in Romulan space and thought I was going to die there. I only wish I’d realized it sooner.”

He approached her closely then, put his arms around her, and gathered her in for a kiss. Though surprised, she did not resist, and even found herself reciprocating.

Nearly as soon as it had begun, the kiss was over. “So long, T’Pol. I’ll see you again after this Romulan business is finished. I promise.”

Then he turned, headed for the door, and was gone. T’Pol stood in the tiny dressing room for several minutes, stunned and silent, alone with her thoughts and her regrets.

So much still remained unsaid between them, though she supposed that neither of them had any real need to hear any of it spoken aloud by the other. After all, the vestige of their mind-link still remained.

She knew that the only constructive—and logical—thing she could do was to look forward, hoping, if not entirely believing, that their paths would indeed cross again someday.

MY NOTE: I'm reading the rest of the books and will probably do another post with cliffsnotes. But I do believe in paying the person who writes the thing, so consider buying it.