Title: Shore Leave part 4
Author: JennaTripped
Rating: PG
Summary: Oh just read it!
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Trip and T'Pol had spent most of the day diving with his father and cousin. It had been chaotic, beautiful, peaceful, thrilling, difficult, and relaxing all at once. It would have overwhelmed T'Pol if Trip had not been there to focus her attention. After both he and T'Pol had changed out of their wetsuits – him into a pair of swimming trunks and her into a light t shit and loose pants – they'd decided to take a walk along the shore. Now they lay quietly side-by-side in the hot sand with the warm sun and cooler breeze brushing over them. Both had their eyes closed, T'Pol's in meditation and Trip's in a light doze.
Trip kicked his foot out irritably when Soval's wet tongue tickled his toes. The dog had followed them, prancing along in the spray from the waves and was now making a nuisance of himself. Nothing new there, Trip thought with a grin at the double meaning. He slowly sat up, blinking at the bright glare from the water. Soval looked at him and whined, his tail wagging insanely. Trip reached over T'Pol's relaxed form and grabbed a large, sandy stick. He threw it hard into the water and slumped back down next to T'Pol while the animal raced into the waves. He lay back down and closed his eyes, listening to the soft crush of the waves on the sand.
T'Pol was brought out of her light meditation by the sensation of something sticky in her right hand. She opened her eyes and regarded the offending animal. The canine lay beside her with his large ears perked up, licking her fingers determinedly. T'Pol moved her hand out of the dog's reach and turned her head to look at Trip. He appeared to be asleep, if she could judge by the soft rise and fall of his chest and his relaxed expression.
The dog began to whine. He wanted something, but she had little experience with dogs. Porthos's needs had been cared for by Captain Archer and occasionally Phlox. The dog made a soft woofing sound and began gnawing on a dirty piece of wood. Concerned that he would injure his teeth or gums, she gingerly removed it from his grasp and tossed it down the beach carelessly. The dog took off and caught the stick in midair before bounding back to T'Pol and dropping the saliva-covered thing into her still-open palm. She blinked and resisted a wince of disgust but gamely threw the stick again. After about twenty minutes of this activity the dog had exhausted himself and trotted back to T'Pol, only to collapse in the sand. Assuming he intended to rest, T'Pol adjusted her posture and focused on the waves. She was not in great need of meditation, much to her surprise, but it would pass the time until Trip awoke.
Trip was proud of himself for resisting the urge to laugh. He'd cracked his eyelids just enough to watch T'Pol play with the dog. Her expression had been comical to him, even though she'd done a decent job of maintaining her dignity in the face of the dirty, smelly, and badly-named dog. He watched as she settled back into her meditation and he decided it wouldn't be too bad of him to continue feigning sleep. He stifled a yawn. It would be good to rest his eyes anyway.
Trip lounged in his living room, lazily sipping a beer while watching water polo on the big screen. He'd never loved water polo, not like the Cap'n did, but he'd developed an appreciation for the stamina required of the players. As the game drew to a close, a noise in the kitchen drew his attention away. He stood up carefully and set the empty beer bottle on the coffee table. Silently, his socked feet padded into the kitchen.
"Mom?" Trip peered into the homey space, noting the childish drawings taped to the refrigerator. Funny, Trip thought. His parents had taken those down years ago. A flash of blonde hair in the corner of his eye prompted him to dash across the kitchen.
"Lizzie?" He felt a warm hand slide into his and looked gratefully at T'Pol. "Ah, you'll help me find her again, right?"
"Of course, Trip."
Together they moved from room to room, both periodically calling Lizzie's name. They reached her bedroom.
"Mom an' Dad turned it into a study when Lizzie went to college." He smiled at the frilly pink bed canopy and scattered stuffed animals.
"Trip, I do not believe your sister is here."
"No, this is our house. She's supposed to be here."
"This is not the way your house is now. You have to let go."
"No!" Trip tightened his hold on her hand and pulled her into a crushing embrace. He felt, rather than saw, her smile in the warmth of her gaze. "I can't let you go. Will you stay with me?"
Her expression darkened and she looked at their joined fingers. "I will if I am able."
With that, the scene shifted. The house filled with people. Hands pulled at his clothing. His mother, father, brother, sister, and the rest of his family were grabbing at him. Captain Archer stood by his mother with a stern expression on his face.
"Let go Commander. That's an order."
"No!"
He turned to T'Pol. She was looking behind her where Ambassador Soval stood wearing a look of disapproval. An older woman bearing a striking resemblance to T'Pol stood beside him, staring at her with a hard but compassionate expression. Several younger Vulcans stood behind them, speaking in hushed, alien, tones.
Trip felt the pressure on his hand begin to ease and he pulled T'Pol tighter to his chest.
"Don't let go..."
Trip awoke with a start, breathing hard and still panicking slightly. He looked around, barely registering the beach and sun, until his eyes rested on T'Pol's meditating form. With a low groan of relief he pulled her into his arms and snuggled his face into her neck. As he breathed in her sweet scent – honey and rusted pennies – Trip's heart rate slowed and he realized he'd been dreaming. He moved to release her, but to his surprise she returned his hug.
"Sorry T'Pol. Bad dream."
Trip shivered a little in the warm breeze, and both of them cuddled closer to each other.
"Perhaps we should have neuropressure tonight, if your sleeplessness is returning."
"That would be great T'Pol." He paused and looked at her, not wanting to disturb the moment. "Can I ask you something?"
"Of course, Trip. What is wrong?"
"I don't know how to ask this, an' it's probably gonna come out wrong."
She waited patiently and squeezed his hand in silent reassurance.
"What do I... I mean, what am I, to you?" Trip looked at her earnestly, his heart weighed down with fear that she'd reject him. But he couldn't stand not knowing anymore. He was pursuing her, courting her. He'd brought her home so his family could meet her. He needed to know what she wanted. He was afraid she thought of their relationship as one big experiment; that fear had, until now, stopped him from asking.
"I have great affection for you, Trip."
T'Pol took a breath. She was not used to verbally proclaiming emotion, much less trying to convince a human that her emotions existed at all. It was counter-intuitive, but by now she had learned that compromise was necessary. And she wished to ease her th'y'la's mind. Her gaze wandered to their hands, which had linked together of their own volition, and then met his eyes again. She noted that his face had lightened considerably, but there was still anxiety clouding it. She leaned forward and brushed her lips against his, her fingers gently caressing his bare chest. T'Pol moved her lips to the shell of his ear.
"I will stay with you," she whispered, and Trip smiled.
Trip brought the knife down against the carrot and whistled under his breath. He and his mother were getting dinner ready. T'Pol was showering, and his dad was out on the porch tinkering with a portable power generator he'd been repairing. Michelle had gone home after the long day, anxious to see her husband and son, and Trip felt at ease. He could tell something was bothering his mother though. She was distracted, and he noticed the sideways glances she was shooting at him.
"Hey Mom, will you pass me another carrot?" She did so silently and Trip popped the first new slice into his mouth with an impish grin.
He knew something was wrong for sure when she didn't yell at him for not waiting until the whole meal was ready. He waited for her to speak her mind.
"Trip, baby, is something going on with you and T'Pol?"
Trip snuck another bite of carrot. He'd had a feeling this was coming. "Like what, Mom?"
"Somethin' besides just being friendly."
Trip finished slicing the carrot and set the knife down. He leaned against the counter and waited for his mother to look at him.
"Yeah, Mom, there is." He watched her carefully and saw concern etch her features. "Why, does that bother you?"
"Well, a little bit yes. I want you to be happy, Trip, I really do." She sighed and squeezed her son's shoulders. "I want you to find a woman who will make you happy, and a Vulcan can't do that."
"But, Mom... T'Pol does make me happy. I've never been this happy in my whole life!"
"For now, maybe. But how long can you go without hearing her tell you she loves you? You won't be able to have children, Trip."
Trip grinned and hugged his mother. He couldn't help the memory of Lorian that sprang to mind: pointy ears and blue eyes.
"I know you're worried. But T'Pol tells me she loves me in her own way. She might never actually say the words, but I know. And don't worry about the kid stuff. We aren't quite that far yet."
"But you need to think about things like that..."
He sighed. "I know, Mom, but this is something you're going to have to trust me on. Let me and T'Pol worry about the grandkids, okay?"
Trip reveled in his new understanding of what he meant to T'Pol. He'd been so unsure before. There had been a part of him before that had held himself back, not wanting to have his heart trampled on. Now he didn't have to anymore.
Susan pulled away from him. "I think you're making a mistake, Honey. I like T'Pol and all, but Vulcans don't have emotions like we do." She looked at Trip and saw that he wasn't listening to her. She couldn't bear to see her child go through all of this, only to be heartbroken in the end. "Promise me you'll think about this..."
"Sure, Mom. I promise." Trip kissed her on the head, still glowing from his afternoon with T'Pol, and left the kitchen to slump down onto the couch and watch some TV.
Susan sighed and went back to chopping vegetables, knowing her son hadn't heard a word she'd said.
To be continued...