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Jon sat with the fork in his hand, not eating with any particular enthusiasm, and noted that neither of his companions seemed especially keen on their meals either. They’d both been quiet since returning to Enterprise, and while that wasn’t unusual for T’Pol, it was for Trip. Jon knew he’d visited Vulcan but returned to Earth a fortnight sooner, and wondered what might have occurred to cause the current mood. He supposed the mission to find a group of Augments created during the Eugenics Wars might have been sufficient to keep them both subdued, but something felt off. He wasn’t in any position to be asking questions though - it really would be a case of the pot calling the kettle black to accuse them of melancholy. The time spent with Erika had eased his mind regarding the Xindi and the changes that mission had wrought within himself, but now a sense of guilt had settled over him, and he wondered whether she felt he’d used her, given what happened on the mountain. Perhaps he should discuss it with Phlox in the morning.
“Hey Doc, you busy?” Trip asked as he entered sickbay, having finally escaped the captain’s mess after dessert.
“Always!” Phlox said cheerfully. “But not so occupied that I cannot spare the time for a patient in need. What seems to be troubling you, Commander?”
Leaning against a biobed, Trip said, “T’Pol got married while we were on Vulcan.”
Surprised, Phlox stopped and gaped for a moment, then said, “presumably not to yourself.”
“No…” Trip said quietly. “Not to me. To Koss. The Vulcan she was betrothed to when they were kids.”
“This troubles you in some way?” Phlox asked curiously.
Shrugging, Trip said, “yeah, it troubles me. She doesn’t love him - which from what her Momma said is pretty normal, she only met her husband once before they married - but T’Pol doesn’t even seem to like the guy. He’s the son of some senior minister in the High Command, and that’s why she married him. For the ‘great deal of influence’ his father can wield.”
Frowning, Phlox said, “it seems unlikely that Commander T’Pol would marry for such a reason.”
“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” Trip muttered. “But the First Minister was dismissed over the whole P’Jem thing, and apparently T’Pol has enemies on Vulcan, so her Momma lost her job at the Science Academy, and T’Pol blames herself for that now that she knows. Marrying Koss means his Daddy can pull whatever strings in government to get her Momma’s job back, and she felt it was her duty to do that. ‘Fulfilling her family obligation’ as her Momma put it.”
“I see,” Phlox said quietly. “And this outcome seems unreasonable to you?”
Both hands flailing wildly, Trip said, “of course it does, Doc! She was basically blackmailed into marrying a guy she barely knows! She tried to terminate the engagement years ago and he never really took no for an answer. Now he’s got what he wanted and she’s trapped!”
Arching a brow, Phlox asked, “is that all that troubles you about the present situation?”
“No,” Trip said, heaving a sigh. “But that’s the important part.”
“Would you care to share the remainder?” Phlox asked gently.
Biting his lip, Trip swallowed the lump in his throat and whispered, “I love her, Doc. I’m so in love with her, and I didn’t realise until it was too late to do anything about it.”
Meditation had failed to bring about the clarity of mind T’Pol desired, plagued instead by strange dreams which blended fact with fiction. Kneeling opposite Trip as the priest intoned the words which would bind them in marriage, his fingers pressed to hers as Koss watched on. The journey to Mount Seleya as a couple rather than alone, sitting knee to knee as she brought their minds together. A Human-style honeymoon to follow - luxuriating in an opulent bathtub, walking hand-clasped along a shoreline at dusk, and spending each evening taking their pleasure of each other. Such fantasies might have become reality with the passage of time, had she not wed Koss. Now these possibilities were closed to her, and the future she had chosen seemed especially unwelcoming.
“Captain!” Phlox said jovially as Jon entered sickbay a few hours later. “It’s unlike you to be visiting at this hour.”
“Couldn’t sleep,” Jon sighed.
Immediately curious, Phlox turned his full attention on him. “What seems to be the problem, Captain?”
Sighing again, Jon sat on the end of a biobed. “I feel like I took advantage of Captain Hernandez.”
“In what way?” Phlox asked, brows furrowing slightly.
“There’s a climber’s code - what happens on the mountain stays on the mountain,” Jon explained. “She’s the one who quoted it at me. She’s the one who made the first move. But now…”
Head inclined curiously, Phlox said, “now?”
Looking guilty, Jon said, “I don’t know, exactly.”
“You said that it feels as though you took advantage,” Phlox said quietly. “In what way do you mean?”
“We used to date, years ago,” Jon said softly. “Before I was promoted.”
Nodding thoughtfully, Phlox said, “and now that Captain Hernandez shares your rank once more…”
With a half-smile, Jon nodded. “We rekindled the flame a little.”
“It seems likely to me that the exchange was mutual,” Phlox observed. “Particularly if Captain Hernandez initiated the interaction.”
“I…” Jon hesitated, then sighed and continued. “I’d like it to be more than just a fling, Doc.”
Smiling broadly, Phlox said, “that being the case, I prescribe a conversation with Captain Hernandez - though it may be advisable to wait until a more reasonable hour in San Francisco.”
Letting out a nervous chuckle, Jon asked, “you really think it’s worth the risk?”
“Only she knows whether that prospect holds any interest for her,” Phlox said. “What harm is there in asking?”
“What if she says no?” Jon murmured.
Smiling, Phlox said, “ah, but what if she says yes?”
Trip lay in bed, staring at the ceiling and cursing Koss’s very existence. Why couldn’t T’Pol’s parents have arranged a marriage with a total nobody instead? Then she’d have had no reason to marry that manipulative jerk, and he could be whatever the Vulcan equivalent of a boyfriend was. If they had such a thing. They probably didn’t, so maybe he’d just have to settle for being a regular old Human boyfriend. Which would be fine. And maybe one day he could have asked T’Pol to marry him, and maybe she’d have said yes, and maybe they could have made an adorable little half-Human half-Vulcan kid, with his eyes and her ears, and the stubbornness of both of them combined, like Lorian. But no, they’d stopped the Xindi weapon, they’d stopped the Sphere Builders from turning the entire galaxy into their own domain, they’d made it back from the Expanse, and for what? So T’Pol could marry that absolute git, to borrow one of Malcolm’s favourite insults. Maybe Hoshi could give him a list of insults from all the languages she knew. Klingon was bound to have a few good ones, and the Tellarites practically used them as terms of endearment, surely they’d have some decent options…
“Good morning, Commander,” Phlox said after breakfast the following day. “How may I be of assistance?”
“I’m concerned for Commander Tucker,” T’Pol said quietly.
Surprised, Phlox asked, “concerned in what way?”
Looking deeply uncomfortable, T’Pol said, “his emotional well-being.”
“I see,” Phlox said, seeing far more than T’Pol realised. “Would you care to elaborate?”
“His visit to Vulcan was not without incident,” T’Pol said, a slight frown creasing her brow. “I believe that certain events may have resulted in a lasting impact upon him.”
Nodding slowly, Phlox said, “Commander Tucker has a tendency to feel things rather deeply, as he did the loss of his sister. What impact do you believe there to be from his visit to your homeworld?”
Sighing quietly, T’Pol said, “Commander Tucker and I…” then stopped, seeming at a loss for words.
“You had grown rather close as a result of your neuropressure sessions,” Phlox prompted gently.
“We had,” T’Pol said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Far closer than anticipated.”
With another nod, Phlox said, “I’m certain Commander Tucker would say the same.”
Stricken, T’Pol nodded. “On Vulcan, certain information came to light regarding my mother’s retirement. I took the only available course of action to rectify that error.”
“And you believe this course of action has caused some harm to Commander Tucker?” Phlox enquired.
“He attended my wedding, despite having made his objections to an arranged marriage clear on more than one occasion,” T’Pol said, her voice almost breaking.
Brows rising, Phlox asked, “are congratulations in order? I’m not familiar with Vulcan wedding traditions.”
Shaking her head a fraction, T’Pol said, “such well-wishes are not customary.”
“You give the impression that they would be unwelcome regardless,” Phlox said seriously.
“I would ask that you provide what comfort you can to Commander Tucker,” T’Pol said, moving to the door. “I do not believe that I can be that for him in the present circumstances.”
Jon sighed and shook his head, attempting to focus on the task at hand. They’d retrieved their people from the Orion slave market without lasting damage, and Soong hadn’t quite managed to escape, but the hunt for the Augments continued. The last thing he needed right now was to be distracted by thoughts of Erika, and yet here in his ready room all he could think of was her. The way she’d kissed him. Her smile when he’d asked what she was doing, and the soft “something I haven’t done in a while” in reply. Then of course all that had followed, including her question the following morning - knowing precisely why they’d stopped seeing each other, yet making him say it anyway. She knew him so well - knew exactly how to get him out of the funk he’d been in - and now all he wanted was go right back to Earth and be with her. But the mission took priority, because a war with the Klingons wasn’t likely to end well, and his was the only ship fast enough to make a difference - until Columbia could join them. Maybe after they’d dealt with this, he could give her a call over subspace. Maybe.
Eight months later…
“Hey, T’Pol,” Trip said softly, allowing her entry to his quarters.
The depth of her anguish was plain as she stepped over the threshold, though most wouldn’t have seen it for what it was. “Trip,” she whispered, almost falling into his embrace when the door had closed behind her.
Wrapping one arm carefully around her back, and lifting the other hand to stroke her hair, he held her close until the trembling had subsided. “I’ve got you,” he murmured, his lips at her ear. “I’ve got you.”
“I apologise for my outburst,” T’Pol said stiffly when she pulled out of the embrace.
“You’ve got nothing to apologise for,” Trip said softly, reaching to stroke his thumb gently back and forth over her elbow, only the fabric of her uniform between them. “We both lost our daughter. You have every right to be upset by that, even if you choose not to show it in public.”
Swallowing hard, T’Pol nodded. “Thank you.”
Letting out a slightly shaky breath, Trip said, “there’s something I should tell you. This may be completely the wrong time for it, but I’m not sure there’s ever going to be a good one, so…”
“What do you wish to say?” T’Pol asked, bracing herself for the worst.
“I love you,” Trip said softly, moving closer once more. “I’m in love with you. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you, if you’ll let me.”
Eyes widening, T’Pol was obviously stunned by the declaration - and then her lips were on his, her arms were around him, and she was rising on her toes murmuring “yes” with surprising fervour. She wanted nothing more.