Making Faces
By superninja
All characters belong to someone other than me. This story is not intended for profit.
The small kitchen was simple, and well ordered. Brown sandy colored walls rose into smooth arched doorways, which continued down a narrow corridor to the rooms beyond.
She went to the pantry, and opening the door, was surprised to find something that looked very much like human potatoes. Curiously, she picked one up, making her way out of the kitchen and into the common area.
Father was reading from one of his old alien books again, cross-legged, while simultaneously building a keethara structure on the adjoining desktop. Usually, keethara was accompanied by a recitation of the Vulcan tenants of wisdom, logic and control.
"The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves, that we are underlings," he spoke dramatically, placing another triangular block onto the table.
"Father," T'Pol started, crossing her arms, still holding the potato.
"Shakespeare. Do you like it?" There was a twinkling in his dark brown eyes, the creases around them suggesting a smile where there was none on his aged face.
She held out the potato for him to examine disapprovingly. "What is the meaning of this?"
He rose gracefully, gathering his dark brown robes around him. Examining the object in her hand, he raised an eyebrow.
"Quite clearly it is a potato. Of the Earth variety."
T'Pol set her jaw and marched back to the kitchen as he followed behind her.
"I hear they are quite delicious. Have you ever had one on the Enterprise?" he asked as she ignored him. "No, I suppose not," he continued. "But I wanted our guests to feel…"
She froze in her tracks. Guests? Quickly, she spun on her father.
"What do you mean 'guests'"? she asked, narrowing her eyes.
"I invited your Captain to have lunch with us," he started. "He asked if he could bring his engineer, so they will both be joining us."
T'Pol started walking again to the kitchen, hauled the potatoes out of the pantry, and into the sink as she began washing them.
"I suppose asking me first would be out of the question," she began.
"Of course," her father said, as she turned on him. He gave her what could only be interpreted as a curt smile. "You would've said 'No'."
T'Met poked her head out towards the window again, finishing the dishes from their late breakfast. Soon, her husband would be off to the Vulcan Academy to teach Romulan History to the first year students.
She watched as the younger Vulcan argued with her father in the house across the way.
"T'Met, please get away from the window," her husband said languidly, looking over his monitor station to get the morning news.
"She lives on a ship with humans," T'Met replied. "Sanek said that she even has begun to smell like them, and that she eats Earth food."
"Sanek talks too much," her husband replied, "about nothing."
"It is the fault of her father. His beliefs are not in line with the Vulcan way. She has been poorly influenced by his radical ideas."
Closing the monitor, her husband rose, and locked his hands together in the folds of his robes.
"I suppose that next, you will say they are having humans over for dinner?"
T'Met raised an eyebrow, and then went back to her dishes.
T'Pol opened the door, to see a smiling Archer and Trip standing in the entryway to her father's home. Carefully, her eyes darted across the way, but it seemed that none of their neighbors were home.
She was grateful for that.
Her father came up behind her, and offered the standard Vulcan greeting of raising his hand in a gesture of peace. "Live long and prosper."
Archer did the same, but Trip looked nervously at his hand and then extended it in the human fashion.
"How about a handshake? I don't think I can manage otherwise."
T'Pol's father eagerly gripped his hand, and shook it. "I am Solvek."
"Captain Jonathan Archer, and this is my Chief Engineer, Charles Tucker III."
"You can call me Trip," the engineer chimed in.
Archer produced from behind his back a potted Earth flower called an orchid. T'Pol instantly recognized it from the ships stores, and glanced back at Archer.
Archer smiled at her briefly, and handed it over to her father, who looked, for a Vulcan anyway, positively thrilled to have it.
"Orhcis militaris. Very rare," the older man said. He sniffed the air around the delicate white petals of the flower. "Smells like…vanilla."
He bowed slightly at the waist, and extended his hand inside. "Welcome to our home."
Lunch had been interesting, to say the least.
Vulcan food, Archer decided, was very bland. He could tell from the expression on Trip's face after his first bite that he must've agreed.
T'Pol's father was very friendly for a Vulcan, almost in an odd sort of way. He had been more than willing to show them his collection of Earth literature, asking all kinds of questions about Shakespeare, most of which Archer and Trip couldn't answer. But Archer liked him instantly.
All the while, T'Pol had followed behind them in complete silence, only looking at them when her father mentioned one of her accomplishments, or asked for her opinion.
As they made their way through the house, Archer was distracted as T'Pol veered away from them and outside to a balcony. Glancing back, he listened to Trip and Solvek discussing early propulsion systems, Earth vs. Vulcan. Seeing that they were both so engrossed, he slipped away unnoticed.
"Nice view."
T'Pol turned towards him, and looked back across the way towards the neighbors house. Archer could've sworn there was a hint of nervousness on her features. His eyes followed hers over to the house next door, as he leaned against the railing.
"What's wrong? You afraid the neighbors might see you with a couple of smelly primitives?"
T'Pol swallowed and looked back at him, surprised to see him grinning at her.
Just then he watched as a Vulcan woman across the way peered out at them from one of the windows.
"There's nothing worse than a nosy neighbor," Archer continued.
"T'Met is quite famous for her prying," added T'Pol with a subtle sneer.
Glancing down at the floor of the balcony, he saw a basket filled with potato peelings. Picking up one of the heavier ones, he hefted it in his hand. T'Pol's eyebrows knotted together as he stood back up, her glance going from his eyes to his hand.
"You would not dare!" she started.
Archer made a face and started jumping around the balcony, bending his knees and letting his arms swing wildly back and forth, making absurd noises from deep in his chest. T'Pol thought that he did, indeed, look like a human primate. She gazed slyly over at nosy T'Met who was nearly beside herself watching the display of human savagery.
Archer jumped up on the railing for the coup de grace, and hurled the potato peeling at the window. T'Met's face was plastered with a terrified expression as it smacked the window and she quickly disappeared into the dark interior of her house.
Archer jumped down from the railing, catching his breath, and smirked over at T'Pol, very pleased with himself.
"How was that for a primate?"
She had changed back to her stone-faced expression, but it was too late. He'd caught her.
"Oh no you don't," Archer said, wagging a finger at her. "You smiled and I saw it."
T'Pol merely raised an eyebrow, and otherwise ignored the accusation.
Archer made the monkey face again and started swinging his arms around, as T'Pol squirmed trying not to smile. Then, the mask slid away, and T'Pol didn't just smile.
She laughed.
"Stop it!" she said in a stern hush, and then put her hand to her mouth.
Archer did stop. Then he just stared back at her as she eyed him, obviously trying to regain her rigid emotional control.
"Captain," she began. "I ask that you please not tell anyone…"
"It'll be our secret," he answered.
He spent the rest of the afternoon trying to keep his mind off T'Pol and that laugh. He knew it would be playing over in his mind the next few days…hell, maybe even weeks. The way her whole face changed when she smiled. It was like another person lived inside of her. What must the strain be like to keep those emotions in check? No wonder most Vulcans seemed so damn miserable.
Trip elbowed him and pointed over to Solvek. He'd been staring at T'Pol again. Damn.
"Solvek here was just talking about some of his unique ideas on Vulcan philosophy," Trip said, giving Archer a warning stare.
"Do not encourage him," T'Pol said evenly, and rose, heading for the kitchen.
"Encourage what?" said Archer, after she had left.
Solvek waited until his daughter's footsteps were gone.
"Unlike most of my people, I am not opposed to the expression of emotion. Particularly, the pleasant ones."
Then, he openly smiled at them both, it stretching over his face like the Cheshire Cat. Archer and Trip exchanged a surprised look.
"Of course," Solvek continued, "My views are not popular, and the unfortunate side affect is that T'Pol has been ostracized by many Vulcans, even though she does not agree with my philosophy."
His face took on a somewhat sad expression. "After her mother died, I had difficulty raising her. She is incredibly stubborn, as was her mother before her."
"That's a shocker," said Trip, sniggering over at Archer.
"She is forever reconciling her beliefs with her love for me."
They glanced up to see T'Pol standing in the doorway, scowling down at all of them with a tray of tea in her hands.
"Father, if you are done digging into every aspect of my life, would you mind serving the tea?"
She sat down next to Archer and stared straight ahead as her father unloaded the tray, handing each of them a cup. The serving style reminded Archer of Japan and the brief time he had lived there with his father. His father, who the Vulcans had ruined…and here he was in their home, sharing tea with them.
Funny world. Make that funny universe.
"Thank you again for your hospitality," Archer said, raising his hand in the Vulcan salute. "Live long and prosper."
They each did the same in reply, save Trip, who just raised his hand and nodded. Solvek excused himself as Trip and Archer turned away down the walkway to the main street.
T'Pol watched them go, and was ready to leave when Archer turned around and bounded back towards her.
"Sub-Commander, we'll be leaving first thing tomorrow morning."
"I am aware of that, Captain," she replied coolly.
"Alright then," he nodded in reply, and turned away and then back again, as Trip shuffled his feet in the distance, squinting to watch them as the hot Vulcan sun reflected off the buildings around them.
"Sub-Commander…" he began.
"Yes?" T'Pol asked, not without a hint of annoyance.
Archer leaned in towards her, and whispered.
"You should smile more often. It suits you." He nodded as though he was checking his words, biting his lower lip.
T'Pol frowned as she watched Archer bound off again, joining Trip, who waved another goodbye as they headed off down the street.
When they were out of sight, T'Pol uncrossed her arms, and breathed a sigh of relief. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed her nosy neighbor peering out of the window again.
Catching her eye, T'Pol mimicked Archer's monkey face, and smiled softly to herself as she watched T'Met run from the window in terror.
Then, as though closing a door, her face became smooth again, and she headed down the pathway home.
The End