And so here we are, my friends. We are at the end of this story. I have to inform you that you should try to have in mind the time when it takes place before reading this chapter. To be clear, Trip and T'Pol do not know anything about their daughter, Elizabeth, at this moment, and nevertheless in this chapter you will find strange references to...
Hey! But why do not you pay attention to me? What are you looking at? Ah, I see.
Hey! But why do not you pay attention to me? What are you looking at? Ah, I see.
Beautiful picture, is not it? And most importantly ... Well, I can understand your surprise. A T'Pol with such a dreamy look!
Eh, but she has every reason, believe me, Vulcan or not.
Do not believe it?
Eh, but she has every reason, believe me, Vulcan or not.
Do not believe it?
Okay, in this case, please read here.
Gosh! What kind of picture is this? - you will say. What the hell does it mean that... yes, that face on the moon?
Eh, who knows? Certainly, the impression one gets, is fairytale, is not it? Yes, I would say that this is exactly the right word: fairytale.
__________________________________________________
"Are you cold, Hon?"
T'Pol curled up in the arms of Trip, huddling close – close close close - to him. "No, T'hai'la."
And it was true. Despite the coolness of the night; despite the hour so late; despite the open place, that lonely beach, where the two of them lay, on their sides, tight to one another; despite the thin night breeze blowing now from land to sea.
Despite her being completely… buck naked.
No. She was not cold. She had never felt so wonderfully, softly, caressingly, warm.
Taking care not to move out from the heat of Trip's arms' hoop, T'Pol shifted her head, just a little, to see the sky, there, over the sea, behind his shoulders and in front of her.
Her movement was lighter than the beating of the wings of a dragonfly, smaller than the thickness of one of the soft, blond hairs of her Trip. She had no intention of losing, even infinitesimally, the comfortable mainstay of the hollow of his shoulder.
But it was enough. There it was. Just there. The Moon. That Moon. The Moon of Earth.
It peeped out, quiet and peaceful, full and round, large, in the midst of the dark sky, from behind the rags of slight clouds that passed quickly ahead of it, pushed by the mild wind of the night, without obscuring it, without veiling it. Evanescent, subtle webs phantasmagorically reverberant in its milky light.
It shone, the Moon. The Moon of Earth. Placidly. It mirrored itself on the sea, whose waves - smooth and calm - were breaking wheresoever into a thousand shades of silver.
T'Pol made a soft sigh, as she readjusted carefully her head again on the shoulder of Trip.
She lowered gently her eyelids, her eyes filled with the vision of the Moon reflecting on the waves and of the sea's iridescent surface, mildly and tenuously gleaming by its fairytale light.
Fairytale. Just so. Fairytale.
Oh, she knew - knew very well, had not gone out of her mind - that there was nothing fairytale, nor in the moon by itself, nor in the wonderful show that the moon offered of itself, nor even in the magnificent spectacle that the sea showed off, under the glow of moonlight.
And those shreds of clouds, those fantastic ghosts and unreal, now and then obscuring the bright globe of the moon for then retreating fast in front of its ashen glow, they were just… they were just shreds of clouds, only this; blown by the wind of the night.
Nothing fairytale. Nothing of this.
Sure.
And yet...
… The Moon, the Moon of Earth…
…The sea, the clouds, the cool sand beneath her... the night...
The subtle, low, rhythmic... mesmerizing… chant of the surf…
They… were fairytale.
She had so often read the romantic stories that Humans had written, that they had handed down, about the Earth's moon, their Moon. This was part of her training to the knowledge of Humans and their culture. It was a logical and scientific approach. There could be nothing to complain about such a necessity. You could not think to approach a breed without also approaching its culture.
Well, actually, she had to admit that her interest in those stories, those inventions of the imagination, was - how to say? - a little more intense than what a normal Vulcan, to quote Trip, a Vulcan who wasn't the special Vulcan she was, would show.
But she had not understood, she was not been able. She was a Vulcan, after all, in her culture, her way of being and thinking, in her education, in her doctrine. A Vulcan. Iron. And logical. She was able to understand and appreciate the beauty, but she was not - had not been - able to penetrate into the vague and illogical halo in which Humans plunged their Moon. A satellite. Grand. Unusual. But what else, if not this?
How could she - she, the Vulcan woman she was - have been able to comprehend that fairytale halo? How could she ever have been able to understand what a sentence as this could mean: "The pale Moon, mute, uncanny, conniving witness, inspirer of love"?
But now she could understand. She understood. She Comprehended.
Because she was in love.
She was in a fairytale love.
Under the pale, uncanny, conniving, fairytale, light of the Moon of Earth, she had made love with her love, her T'hai'la. Her Trip.
She and he had made a fairytale love.
He had possessed her as he had never done, and she had allowed herself to be possessed by him as she had never done.
There.
On the beach. On the sand. In the night. In front of the quietly murmuring sea.
Under the fairytale moonlight.
He had penetrated her with all the power of his body and his spirit.
Of his love.
Of his fairytale love.
And with that fairytale love he had enveloped her.
And enclosed into that fairytale mantle of love, she had shouted out of love.
Because she was fabulously in love.
She was in a fairy tale.
Her life had become a fairy tale.
T'Pol opened up her eyes, wrapped in the embrace of her Trip.
The Moon, from behind his back, was watching her.
It smiled at her.
With its mysterious fairytale smile.
That she now could see.
That she understood.
And T'Pol, clinging tightly to her love, smiled back at the Moon.
And the Moon, prettily, blushed in return to T'Pol.
It was not easy. No, not at all. However, it had to be done. It had to. It just could not be possible to remain always there so, embraced by each other. Naked. On the sand. In the night. Under the fairytale moonlight. In front of the charmer sea.
Eh no. It could not be done.
Although it would have been so nice to do so.
Although it would have been so easy to do so.
"Honey..."
"Mh?"
Mamma mia! What a charm, her voice, warm and sleepy! "Honey ..."
"Mh ... yes?"
But how could it be possible for him to do that? How the hell could it be possible? "Darlin'..."
A peck. On the wonderful tip of her wonderful pointed ear.
"Mh ... so. Just like that. Again. Mh… again."
"No, no, Honey." - (*Damn it! DAMMIT!*) - "We gotta go."
"Mh ... mh?"
Another small kiss. A small bite.
"Oh, yes…"
"Yes, yes, my love. But not here."
"No?"
"No."
"Mhhhhh… No?"
"No, my babe. We must go. It is time, before the sun rises. You know ... there is a piece of your bikini that can not be recovered. Do not you think it's best that we can retrieve your pareo before anyone can take the vision of you in… a halved bikini?"
T'Pol stretched into the arms of Trip, then, slowly, extricated herself from his embrace and sat down, cross-legged, in front of him, who sat down, him too, mimicking her posture.
Without a word, she, motionless and indecipherable, stared at him.
Buck naked and damn beautiful.
The moonlight played in her dark silky hair, shone into her enchanting dark, emerald-green eyes.
Trip tried to escape her spell.
"T'Pol ..."
"It's your fault."
Trip laughed softly to himself. Okay. T'Pol, his T'Pol, was happy. And satisfied. Although not exactly in the way he had imagined it, the goal that he had set out had been achieved.
By now he knew too well his Vulcan love. When she assumed that air, that expression, that tone, flat and devoid of inflection and, just for this, assertively more accusatory than how it would be if some emotion was leaked from it; when she became so unexpectedly provocative, but at the same time there was that twinkling in her eyes, this meant that all was well, that she felt well, was at ease.
That she was happy and content.
And that she wanted to play with him.
Their joyful game, their delicious skirmish of love.
He had learned to recognize that way, that air, that tone. That expression. That enchanting twinkling in her eyes.
And he knew inside out the role he should have played, that in some way T'Pol expected from him, that she wanted him to play.
But he loved to confuse her.
He spoke softly with a contrite air, deliberately at odds with the mocking glint in his eyes. "I know, T'Pol. I know."
T'Pol was taken aback. That was not the answer she was expecting. What do you mean, Vulcan doll? - What the hell does that mean? - Girl, explains a bit! There, responses of this type would have been good, but that one ... Eh no. Not at all.
Taking care to be absolutely Vulcan-like in the face, she managed not to arch her eyebrow. This would show with evidence her perplexity to her experienced Ashayam and she did not have to offer her side. "I'm glad you admit it." Now what? What would he say?
(*Ha ha! All right. Very well.*) - T'Pol was still a Vulcan. As much as she was 'humanized' because of - mh, well, yes, this was true - because of him, Trip, she could not penetrate so deeply, could not extricate so easily in the pitfalls of the human humour, especially if - and this had to be said - this human humour was his humour. (*Let's see, now.*) - "It is always my fault, Hon."
(*Mh No.*) - T'Pol's eyebrow snapped upwardly, without her being able to prevent it. Her gaze turned to puzzlement. Something was wrong. Cautiously… "Oh, well. Sure… Ahem… Always?"
"You're always right, and I'm always at fault."
"Do not. .. do not overdo it. Me too..."
"Oh no no no, T'Pol!" - Trip's face was the picture of contrition. – "Who brought you here, without revealing to you his knowledge of the place? His intentions?"
"Well, you."
"Who has hidden from you that it was not possible for anyone to reach here after sunset, making fun of you?"
"Well, you. But..."
"Oh do not excuse me, my love. Do not get blinded by your love for me. The nonsense you did was just the answer to my usual idiotic way to behave."
"Mh… well… maybe… but ..."
"Do not excuse me, I tell you. But think! I even took advantage of the fact that I practically stripped naked you, to save you, with a view to make love with you, here in the moonlight."
"Well, I can not say that this..."
"That this wasn't liked by you?"
"Exactly. I..."
"But this is terrible, my love!"
"Te...?"
"Terrible, yes!"
"But…"
"It is terrible that I can take advantage of you so ignobly, to the point that you even feel happy to give in to my cravings!"
T'Pol snapped. Eh no! Not this! "I do not give in to the cravings of anyone!"
"No?"
"No! If I have given myself to you, here, on this beach, by the light of your moon, it is because ..."
"You wanted this?"
"Of course!"
"Ah! So, I have no faults in this regard?"
"Certainly not!
"So what is my fault?"
"Your fault is..."
T'Pol stopped suddenly. She had taken his bait again. Wouldn't she ever learn? But...well, after all, what did it matter? It was beautiful falling into his traps. She was not sure that any of her compatriots could ever understand, unless some woman of her kind had had the good fortune to meet a man like her Trip. And, in this case, good for her! But - and T'Pol smiled smugly to himself - this was impossible.
Anyway, however it may be, it was so, and to be really honest, in the end, her provocations to Trip had indeed intended, not too covertly, to induce him to openly show to her that aspect of his being that made him so special, so unique. So the man just for her. So… deserving of having her love. Or perhaps, more trivially, more simply… she loved him. Immensely. And that was all.
It was time to stop. And she knew how to do it. The conniving moon suggested her the way.
"Your fault is to be who you are."
"Ah."
"But..."
"But?"
T'Pol's hand rose, to softly caress Trip's cheek. "I believe that for you there might be some hope."
Trip smiled. He cocked his head to fully enjoy the contact with the hand of T'Pol. "Glad to hear that. What should I do to make this hope fully flourish?"
T'Pol leaned forward. With closed eyes, she set down a tender kiss on the lips of Trip.
Then she drew back, lifting her eyelids, and looked at him with eyes bright and warm. "This is my job."
Trip laughed. Playfully. "I am lost!"
The answer came from T'Pol, low, accompanied by the most vulcanly deadpan face that she could show off.
This time, the victory would be hers.
"Yes, T'hai'la. You're lost."
Eh no. It could not be done.
Although it would have been so nice to do so.
Although it would have been so easy to do so.
"Honey..."
"Mh?"
Mamma mia! What a charm, her voice, warm and sleepy! "Honey ..."
"Mh ... yes?"
But how could it be possible for him to do that? How the hell could it be possible? "Darlin'..."
A peck. On the wonderful tip of her wonderful pointed ear.
"Mh ... so. Just like that. Again. Mh… again."
"No, no, Honey." - (*Damn it! DAMMIT!*) - "We gotta go."
"Mh ... mh?"
Another small kiss. A small bite.
"Oh, yes…"
"Yes, yes, my love. But not here."
"No?"
"No."
"Mhhhhh… No?"
"No, my babe. We must go. It is time, before the sun rises. You know ... there is a piece of your bikini that can not be recovered. Do not you think it's best that we can retrieve your pareo before anyone can take the vision of you in… a halved bikini?"
T'Pol stretched into the arms of Trip, then, slowly, extricated herself from his embrace and sat down, cross-legged, in front of him, who sat down, him too, mimicking her posture.
Without a word, she, motionless and indecipherable, stared at him.
Buck naked and damn beautiful.
The moonlight played in her dark silky hair, shone into her enchanting dark, emerald-green eyes.
Trip tried to escape her spell.
"T'Pol ..."
"It's your fault."
Trip laughed softly to himself. Okay. T'Pol, his T'Pol, was happy. And satisfied. Although not exactly in the way he had imagined it, the goal that he had set out had been achieved.
By now he knew too well his Vulcan love. When she assumed that air, that expression, that tone, flat and devoid of inflection and, just for this, assertively more accusatory than how it would be if some emotion was leaked from it; when she became so unexpectedly provocative, but at the same time there was that twinkling in her eyes, this meant that all was well, that she felt well, was at ease.
That she was happy and content.
And that she wanted to play with him.
Their joyful game, their delicious skirmish of love.
He had learned to recognize that way, that air, that tone. That expression. That enchanting twinkling in her eyes.
And he knew inside out the role he should have played, that in some way T'Pol expected from him, that she wanted him to play.
But he loved to confuse her.
He spoke softly with a contrite air, deliberately at odds with the mocking glint in his eyes. "I know, T'Pol. I know."
T'Pol was taken aback. That was not the answer she was expecting. What do you mean, Vulcan doll? - What the hell does that mean? - Girl, explains a bit! There, responses of this type would have been good, but that one ... Eh no. Not at all.
Taking care to be absolutely Vulcan-like in the face, she managed not to arch her eyebrow. This would show with evidence her perplexity to her experienced Ashayam and she did not have to offer her side. "I'm glad you admit it." Now what? What would he say?
(*Ha ha! All right. Very well.*) - T'Pol was still a Vulcan. As much as she was 'humanized' because of - mh, well, yes, this was true - because of him, Trip, she could not penetrate so deeply, could not extricate so easily in the pitfalls of the human humour, especially if - and this had to be said - this human humour was his humour. (*Let's see, now.*) - "It is always my fault, Hon."
(*Mh No.*) - T'Pol's eyebrow snapped upwardly, without her being able to prevent it. Her gaze turned to puzzlement. Something was wrong. Cautiously… "Oh, well. Sure… Ahem… Always?"
"You're always right, and I'm always at fault."
"Do not. .. do not overdo it. Me too..."
"Oh no no no, T'Pol!" - Trip's face was the picture of contrition. – "Who brought you here, without revealing to you his knowledge of the place? His intentions?"
"Well, you."
"Who has hidden from you that it was not possible for anyone to reach here after sunset, making fun of you?"
"Well, you. But..."
"Oh do not excuse me, my love. Do not get blinded by your love for me. The nonsense you did was just the answer to my usual idiotic way to behave."
"Mh… well… maybe… but ..."
"Do not excuse me, I tell you. But think! I even took advantage of the fact that I practically stripped naked you, to save you, with a view to make love with you, here in the moonlight."
"Well, I can not say that this..."
"That this wasn't liked by you?"
"Exactly. I..."
"But this is terrible, my love!"
"Te...?"
"Terrible, yes!"
"But…"
"It is terrible that I can take advantage of you so ignobly, to the point that you even feel happy to give in to my cravings!"
T'Pol snapped. Eh no! Not this! "I do not give in to the cravings of anyone!"
"No?"
"No! If I have given myself to you, here, on this beach, by the light of your moon, it is because ..."
"You wanted this?"
"Of course!"
"Ah! So, I have no faults in this regard?"
"Certainly not!
"So what is my fault?"
"Your fault is..."
T'Pol stopped suddenly. She had taken his bait again. Wouldn't she ever learn? But...well, after all, what did it matter? It was beautiful falling into his traps. She was not sure that any of her compatriots could ever understand, unless some woman of her kind had had the good fortune to meet a man like her Trip. And, in this case, good for her! But - and T'Pol smiled smugly to himself - this was impossible.
Anyway, however it may be, it was so, and to be really honest, in the end, her provocations to Trip had indeed intended, not too covertly, to induce him to openly show to her that aspect of his being that made him so special, so unique. So the man just for her. So… deserving of having her love. Or perhaps, more trivially, more simply… she loved him. Immensely. And that was all.
It was time to stop. And she knew how to do it. The conniving moon suggested her the way.
"Your fault is to be who you are."
"Ah."
"But..."
"But?"
T'Pol's hand rose, to softly caress Trip's cheek. "I believe that for you there might be some hope."
Trip smiled. He cocked his head to fully enjoy the contact with the hand of T'Pol. "Glad to hear that. What should I do to make this hope fully flourish?"
T'Pol leaned forward. With closed eyes, she set down a tender kiss on the lips of Trip.
Then she drew back, lifting her eyelids, and looked at him with eyes bright and warm. "This is my job."
Trip laughed. Playfully. "I am lost!"
The answer came from T'Pol, low, accompanied by the most vulcanly deadpan face that she could show off.
This time, the victory would be hers.
"Yes, T'hai'la. You're lost."
They were swimming side by side; indeed, one - she - practically sustained by him, and the other - he - all intent to support her, without her experiencing too much fatigue.
"All right, my love? You are not cold, are you? Are you not getting too tired?"
A strange thought popped into the mind of T'Pol. If he, Trip, her T'hai'la, could be so oppressive in his care for her, in the present circumstance, how much the other Trip, the one whom none of them had had the possibility to know, could have been oppressive towards the other T'Pol, the one who gave Lorian to him, in his worry about her pregnancy? And - even stranger, another thought made its way into her - how much could this Trip, her Trip, be oppressive towards her, if one day she had been able to give a son to him?
T'Pol did not understand how such ideas could occur to her, right now. Was it the Moon? The Earth's Moon? Was it the sea, dark and yet brilliant, around them?
Was it that strange, indefinable feeling that she felt at that moment in her relying so fully on her Trip? That strange, indefinable warmth inside her, which was keeping her safe from the not properly warm water almost more than the close physical proximity of her Ashayam? Was it that feeling of being cared for and protected? Of being… cherished. Something that no Vulcan male could ever give her, whereas her Trip, he yes, he could.
And how could it be possible that at that very moment, she could think of the possibility of giving a son to him? That, as much he could be definitely oppressive towards her, it... it would have been nice to feel oppressed by him, in his concern for her, while... while her belly would have increased in size, by the growth of the fruit that he would have planted inside her?
What was going on with her? It had already happened to her, before, to have thoughts about the possibility of giving him a son, but never with such intensity. And then, why now? And... and why that feeling... that unpleasant feeling about something... something really frightful that might happen exactly apropos of a possible son that she and Trip could have? Almost... almost a sort of nasty premonition? But there were no premonitions. They didn't exist. They were… illogical.
It was the Moon. Yes. It was the Earth's Moon.
T'Pol raised her eyes towards the Moon. (*Do not overdo it, Luna. Do not overdo it.*)
Trip's worried voice shook her from that odd fantasy.
"T'Pol! T'Pol! Honey! Why don't you answer me? Are you not well? What is this? What is this?"
T'Pol rubbed her thigh against that of Trip, from under the water. Since long a time now, she had realized how important it was for him to receive physical messages from her.
And also how important it was to do it, for her.
And how important it was for her to receive his body signals, too.
"It's okay, T'hai'la. No problem. The water has maintained a sufficient amount of heat of the diurnal solar radiation to allow me to not feel cold. Not to mention the heat coming from your physical proximity. And swimming so slowly and calmly, supported by you, it does not cost me any fatigue."
"Oh ... oh ... sure. Thank goodness."
Well, but why the hell was he surprised? T'Pol was still T'Pol, after all. A Vulcan female can express herself with rationality in all circumstances. Even now.
Surely - Trip found himself smiling to himself - only she could think to talk so, while they were swimming in the sea at night, under the light of the moon, side by side.
But, what was the matter, after all? Wasn't this one of the innumerable reasons that made her so unique and so worthy of being loved? And to him, just to him, it was given the good fortune to love her! And to have her love in return!
Nevertheless... mh, nevertheless was it true, what she said to him? T'Pol was terribly stubborn, to the point of becoming ... well, yes ... becoming irrational, sometimes. And if now the two of them were doing what they were doing it was because...
Trip could not help but curse. T'Pol really was not wrong in saying that he was at fault.
She heard him, of course. She stopped and turned in the water to look at him. "What's the matter, Ashayam?"
Trip raised his hand from under the water to caress her face. "You were absolutely right, darlin'. I am at fault."
"Because you are what you are? This we have already taken for granted, but we have also said that, with my help, you can have some hope."
Trip could not help laughing heartily. Who knew if one day he would be able to get used to a T'Pol who made witticisms?
"No, no, T'Pol. The point is that - Trip frowned - I shouldn't have to bring you to that beach, knowing that, to come away from it, we would have to go by swimming."
T'Pol quirked her eyebrow. "Could you have foreseen that we would have to retrieve my sarong before the beach could become crowded again, because the lower part of my bikini would be lost as a result of my… unforeseen performance?"
"Well, no, certainly. I ... Well, I had thought that we ... that the two of us ..."
"Could wait until the access road by land was again open, engaging the waiting time… nicely?"
"Uh... in a sense..."
T'Pol rubbed her thigh again against that of Trip. "And do you think that I might have something to say against such a manner to commit our waiting time?"
"Well, no." - Trip smirked, meaningfully. – "I do not think."
Trip was sure he was not mistaken. Actually in the voice of T'Pol sounded a note of blatant joy, of true mirth, while her eyes appeared to smile mischievously. Bluntly. "And you haven't deceived yourself, Ashayam. It is clear that the experience that you acquired in regard to my female needs, as you yourself have very eloquently expressed in the temporal patterning of these my needs you did last night, was not in vain. (1) So, as a final conclusion and despite my earlier statement, you do not have absolutely to feel at fault."
Trip laughed again and gladly followed T'Pol along the way she had undertaken. "Even if I haven't said anything to you about my intentions?"
The note of gaiety in T'Pol's voice became even more evident. And how they shone merry and mischievous, her eyes! "Ah, but wasn't this because - how do you say, you Humans? - you wanted to give me a surprise? Definitely not Vulcan, this is a fact; the concept of surprise is alien to the logic of my race. But ... I can't say that, on balance, it wasn't well-accepted by me."
"On balance?"
"Mh, maybe a little more than 'on balance.' "
The laughter of Trip rose up one more time over the sea.
"And then, let's not forget, T'hai'la. Although without wanting to do it on purpose, it's me the one who has complicated things."
"Okay, Hon. But you can not say that I am without fault. Think about how I have made fun of you..."
"On this side of your character, I will have to work hard. But, I'm not so sure I want it to really change. If it were happening to you such a… radical metamorphosis, you would no longer be the man you are, the Trip whom I..."
T'Pol stopped. She let her eyes speak for her.
Trip was speechless. T'Pol, his T'Pol, was without parallel! He tried to find again his voice, to say something. "Darlin'..."
T'Pol did not allow him to continue. She came even closer to him. They were as one only body floating in the water.
"And then, T'hai'la…"
To Trip's ears it rang with all clarity as a sort of dreamy note, now, in the voice of T'Pol.
"The end result of it all is that now we are here, Ashayam."
Something like a rapt sigh vibrated in her words.
"Here, at night, in this sea, placid and warm. Under..." - T'Pol squeezed the hand of Trip, from under the water – "...under this fairytale moonlight."
"All right, my love? You are not cold, are you? Are you not getting too tired?"
A strange thought popped into the mind of T'Pol. If he, Trip, her T'hai'la, could be so oppressive in his care for her, in the present circumstance, how much the other Trip, the one whom none of them had had the possibility to know, could have been oppressive towards the other T'Pol, the one who gave Lorian to him, in his worry about her pregnancy? And - even stranger, another thought made its way into her - how much could this Trip, her Trip, be oppressive towards her, if one day she had been able to give a son to him?
T'Pol did not understand how such ideas could occur to her, right now. Was it the Moon? The Earth's Moon? Was it the sea, dark and yet brilliant, around them?
Was it that strange, indefinable feeling that she felt at that moment in her relying so fully on her Trip? That strange, indefinable warmth inside her, which was keeping her safe from the not properly warm water almost more than the close physical proximity of her Ashayam? Was it that feeling of being cared for and protected? Of being… cherished. Something that no Vulcan male could ever give her, whereas her Trip, he yes, he could.
And how could it be possible that at that very moment, she could think of the possibility of giving a son to him? That, as much he could be definitely oppressive towards her, it... it would have been nice to feel oppressed by him, in his concern for her, while... while her belly would have increased in size, by the growth of the fruit that he would have planted inside her?
What was going on with her? It had already happened to her, before, to have thoughts about the possibility of giving him a son, but never with such intensity. And then, why now? And... and why that feeling... that unpleasant feeling about something... something really frightful that might happen exactly apropos of a possible son that she and Trip could have? Almost... almost a sort of nasty premonition? But there were no premonitions. They didn't exist. They were… illogical.
It was the Moon. Yes. It was the Earth's Moon.
T'Pol raised her eyes towards the Moon. (*Do not overdo it, Luna. Do not overdo it.*)
Trip's worried voice shook her from that odd fantasy.
"T'Pol! T'Pol! Honey! Why don't you answer me? Are you not well? What is this? What is this?"
T'Pol rubbed her thigh against that of Trip, from under the water. Since long a time now, she had realized how important it was for him to receive physical messages from her.
And also how important it was to do it, for her.
And how important it was for her to receive his body signals, too.
"It's okay, T'hai'la. No problem. The water has maintained a sufficient amount of heat of the diurnal solar radiation to allow me to not feel cold. Not to mention the heat coming from your physical proximity. And swimming so slowly and calmly, supported by you, it does not cost me any fatigue."
"Oh ... oh ... sure. Thank goodness."
Well, but why the hell was he surprised? T'Pol was still T'Pol, after all. A Vulcan female can express herself with rationality in all circumstances. Even now.
Surely - Trip found himself smiling to himself - only she could think to talk so, while they were swimming in the sea at night, under the light of the moon, side by side.
But, what was the matter, after all? Wasn't this one of the innumerable reasons that made her so unique and so worthy of being loved? And to him, just to him, it was given the good fortune to love her! And to have her love in return!
Nevertheless... mh, nevertheless was it true, what she said to him? T'Pol was terribly stubborn, to the point of becoming ... well, yes ... becoming irrational, sometimes. And if now the two of them were doing what they were doing it was because...
Trip could not help but curse. T'Pol really was not wrong in saying that he was at fault.
She heard him, of course. She stopped and turned in the water to look at him. "What's the matter, Ashayam?"
Trip raised his hand from under the water to caress her face. "You were absolutely right, darlin'. I am at fault."
"Because you are what you are? This we have already taken for granted, but we have also said that, with my help, you can have some hope."
Trip could not help laughing heartily. Who knew if one day he would be able to get used to a T'Pol who made witticisms?
"No, no, T'Pol. The point is that - Trip frowned - I shouldn't have to bring you to that beach, knowing that, to come away from it, we would have to go by swimming."
T'Pol quirked her eyebrow. "Could you have foreseen that we would have to retrieve my sarong before the beach could become crowded again, because the lower part of my bikini would be lost as a result of my… unforeseen performance?"
"Well, no, certainly. I ... Well, I had thought that we ... that the two of us ..."
"Could wait until the access road by land was again open, engaging the waiting time… nicely?"
"Uh... in a sense..."
T'Pol rubbed her thigh again against that of Trip. "And do you think that I might have something to say against such a manner to commit our waiting time?"
"Well, no." - Trip smirked, meaningfully. – "I do not think."
Trip was sure he was not mistaken. Actually in the voice of T'Pol sounded a note of blatant joy, of true mirth, while her eyes appeared to smile mischievously. Bluntly. "And you haven't deceived yourself, Ashayam. It is clear that the experience that you acquired in regard to my female needs, as you yourself have very eloquently expressed in the temporal patterning of these my needs you did last night, was not in vain. (1) So, as a final conclusion and despite my earlier statement, you do not have absolutely to feel at fault."
Trip laughed again and gladly followed T'Pol along the way she had undertaken. "Even if I haven't said anything to you about my intentions?"
The note of gaiety in T'Pol's voice became even more evident. And how they shone merry and mischievous, her eyes! "Ah, but wasn't this because - how do you say, you Humans? - you wanted to give me a surprise? Definitely not Vulcan, this is a fact; the concept of surprise is alien to the logic of my race. But ... I can't say that, on balance, it wasn't well-accepted by me."
"On balance?"
"Mh, maybe a little more than 'on balance.' "
The laughter of Trip rose up one more time over the sea.
"And then, let's not forget, T'hai'la. Although without wanting to do it on purpose, it's me the one who has complicated things."
"Okay, Hon. But you can not say that I am without fault. Think about how I have made fun of you..."
"On this side of your character, I will have to work hard. But, I'm not so sure I want it to really change. If it were happening to you such a… radical metamorphosis, you would no longer be the man you are, the Trip whom I..."
T'Pol stopped. She let her eyes speak for her.
Trip was speechless. T'Pol, his T'Pol, was without parallel! He tried to find again his voice, to say something. "Darlin'..."
T'Pol did not allow him to continue. She came even closer to him. They were as one only body floating in the water.
"And then, T'hai'la…"
To Trip's ears it rang with all clarity as a sort of dreamy note, now, in the voice of T'Pol.
"The end result of it all is that now we are here, Ashayam."
Something like a rapt sigh vibrated in her words.
"Here, at night, in this sea, placid and warm. Under..." - T'Pol squeezed the hand of Trip, from under the water – "...under this fairytale moonlight."
Eventually they had almost made it. They had managed to get round slowly the barrier to access, by swimming, and now, finally, they were simply walking hand in hand along the shore. Well, not really. Along the sea bottom, a short distance from the beach line, in reality, but in such a way that only the upper part of their bodies were rising from the water. It was dark, it was late, there were no people here. But you never know. It would have been rather embarrassing to stand the look of someone who, in the moonlight, could notice the absence of the panties of T'Pol's bikini.
"Here we are, darlin'. Look there! Everything is still there in its place. Including your pareo."
T'Pol nodded in response. "You seemed pretty sure we would have found it."
"Here, on this beach, I mean, it is widespread, the habit of leaving things in the place occupied by you, ready to be used again the next day. It is very rare that they are taken away, unless they lie abandoned for a long time. Of course, there is some risk, but fortunately my predictions were not disappointed. Wait here. I will do it in a moment."
Trip jumped out of the water, and in an instant he was on the sarong and picked it up. - (*There you are!*) - Sure, he could even have thought to reach it alone, leaving T'Pol waiting for him at that little beach; however, the idea of parting, leaving her alone there, had been simply unacceptable, indeed, it had not even touched the antechamber of his brain. And then - he smiled to himself as he ran towards the small figure waiting for him, still and quiet, at sea, in the glare of moonlight – not for anything in the world, he could give up the splendid, quiet, sweet, romantic swim that he and T'Pol had done to go back, side by side, under, as she, exactly she, had said, the moon's fairytale light.
"Here, Honey. Put it on." T'Pol performed quickly and with her usual grace, with the help of Trip, without moving away from where she was.
And, finally, she was free to step out of the sea.
Now they were there, on the deserted beach. They looked at each other. Something ran between them. Trip tried to shake himself and T'Pol. He smiled gently. "Well, what do you say, sweetheart? The day - and night - had been long. Let's return to the hotel."
T'Pol nodded. Yes, the day and the night had been long and…eventful. It was definitely the case to go back to the hotel, to retire to their room and then, after a nice hot shower, go to sleep in their bed, close to each other.
On impulse, she took Trip's hand and brought it to her lips. She kissed it gently. "Thanks for the nice swimming lesson, Ashayam."
"Oh, ah... but nothing, nothing, my love. It was..." - Trip took, in turn, the hand of T'Pol and, in turn, kissed it gently - "...it was my pleasure."
One more look, sweet and conspiratorial, between them. Trip then decided it was time to stop dilly-dallying.
He took T'Pol's arm under his arm, right in the fashion of a human couple, and began to lead her away.
T'Pol did not put up any resistance, indeed, she had to admit that the way, that human males had, to hook the arms of their women with their own arms... well, it was not bad at all. There was in this something softly intimate, like - sweet memories and visions crowded suddenly in the mind of T'Pol - in a neuropressure session.
But... "One moment." Trip stopped, and looked at her curiously. T'Pol leaned over and then rose with her sunglasses in her hand. "Okay, now we can actually go." And, of her own volition, she slipped her arm back under the arm of Trip.
Trip smiled and nodded. "Very well, Hon." And they headed towards the hotel.
"Here we are, darlin'. Look there! Everything is still there in its place. Including your pareo."
T'Pol nodded in response. "You seemed pretty sure we would have found it."
"Here, on this beach, I mean, it is widespread, the habit of leaving things in the place occupied by you, ready to be used again the next day. It is very rare that they are taken away, unless they lie abandoned for a long time. Of course, there is some risk, but fortunately my predictions were not disappointed. Wait here. I will do it in a moment."
Trip jumped out of the water, and in an instant he was on the sarong and picked it up. - (*There you are!*) - Sure, he could even have thought to reach it alone, leaving T'Pol waiting for him at that little beach; however, the idea of parting, leaving her alone there, had been simply unacceptable, indeed, it had not even touched the antechamber of his brain. And then - he smiled to himself as he ran towards the small figure waiting for him, still and quiet, at sea, in the glare of moonlight – not for anything in the world, he could give up the splendid, quiet, sweet, romantic swim that he and T'Pol had done to go back, side by side, under, as she, exactly she, had said, the moon's fairytale light.
"Here, Honey. Put it on." T'Pol performed quickly and with her usual grace, with the help of Trip, without moving away from where she was.
And, finally, she was free to step out of the sea.
Now they were there, on the deserted beach. They looked at each other. Something ran between them. Trip tried to shake himself and T'Pol. He smiled gently. "Well, what do you say, sweetheart? The day - and night - had been long. Let's return to the hotel."
T'Pol nodded. Yes, the day and the night had been long and…eventful. It was definitely the case to go back to the hotel, to retire to their room and then, after a nice hot shower, go to sleep in their bed, close to each other.
On impulse, she took Trip's hand and brought it to her lips. She kissed it gently. "Thanks for the nice swimming lesson, Ashayam."
"Oh, ah... but nothing, nothing, my love. It was..." - Trip took, in turn, the hand of T'Pol and, in turn, kissed it gently - "...it was my pleasure."
One more look, sweet and conspiratorial, between them. Trip then decided it was time to stop dilly-dallying.
He took T'Pol's arm under his arm, right in the fashion of a human couple, and began to lead her away.
T'Pol did not put up any resistance, indeed, she had to admit that the way, that human males had, to hook the arms of their women with their own arms... well, it was not bad at all. There was in this something softly intimate, like - sweet memories and visions crowded suddenly in the mind of T'Pol - in a neuropressure session.
But... "One moment." Trip stopped, and looked at her curiously. T'Pol leaned over and then rose with her sunglasses in her hand. "Okay, now we can actually go." And, of her own volition, she slipped her arm back under the arm of Trip.
Trip smiled and nodded. "Very well, Hon." And they headed towards the hotel.
"Well, we must say that the face of the concierge was priceless."
T'Pol turned in bed watching Trip. "Did you find it funny?"
Trip chuckled. "Well, you didn't, Hon?"
T'Pol quirked slightly her eyebrow. "I do not know. I do not understand the human humour."
Trip chuckled again, a little more loudly. He squeezed T'Pol's hand from under the sheet. "Ah, you don't, eh, darling?"
T'Pol returned the hand hold of Trip. "Do you doubt my words, T'hai'la?
"Never ever!" Trip's expression appeared as genuinely horrified. Then it became thoughtful. "Certainly, though, I do not understand how, before entering the elevator to get to our room, you've turned to look so intently at the concierge. You know, I even got the impression that you were smiling, in watching him."
T'Pol stared at Trip. A little flame danced in her eyes. "Jokes of the artificial light, Ashayam."
"Oh sure. Jokes." Trip chortled again. "Jokes of the artificial light, of course."
"But Trip." - T'Pol's face was deadly serious – "Really. How could I - I, T'Pol - have found something funny in the visage of the concierge? Simply because he did not seem to know which way he should turn and tried to hide what you could read in his face?"
Trip looked at T'Pol in the manner of T'Pol. "And what could it be read in his face?"
"Ah, I do not know. Maybe something as... - how would you say? - But whence the hell are they coming, these two, at this time of night, in a bathing suit and all wet, in addition? And where bloody hell are they gone ending up, the whiskers of him? "
Trip brought all of a sudden his hand to his lips Damn! It was true. He burst out laughing, then quickly pulled himself together. "Ah, here. Okay, now I understand. Of course it is unfortunate that you are so little able to read human expressions, as well as understand what can be found funny in them."
"Actually, it's really a shame. It would be extremely useful being able to do this."
"Yes, really. But you know what, darlin'?"
"What, Trip?"
Trip's hand rose, from under the bed sheet, to softly caress T'Pol's cheek. "I am convinced that you can have some hope."
Watching deadpan Trip, T'Pol cocked her head to fully savour the touch of his hand. "That's good. And…" - The unmistakable shadow of a smile hovered on T'Pol's lips. – "What should I do to make this hope fully flourish?"
Trip came closer to T'Pol and set down a tender kiss on her lips.
Then he drew back and looked at her with eyes bright and smiling. "This is my job."
T'Pol came closer to Trip, in her turn, and rubbed softly her lips against his. "I suppose I should answer: I am lost."
Trip laughed. Playfully. "Yes, darlin'. You're lost."
T'Pol did not answer, said nothing. She simply curled up well, very well, against Trip under the sheet.
For a while there was silence. Both were enjoying, fully and with delight, that precious freedom to be able to be the one for the other what they felt that they were and wanted to be.
But that they could no longer completely be, when they would return to Enterprise.
They both knew it.
And they both knew that the day would come for them to make a choice. For real.
Certainly, a sort of first step had been done, in reality. Nothing had been said clearly, neither the one nor the other had said: Here, look, we love each other, we two are a couple in love. Simply the two of them had decided to spend together the period of their Shore Leave. This, albeit in a way a little quaint and allusive, had been shown to the Captain, Malcolm Reed, Hoshi Sato, and this everyone else would know. (1)
Of course, everyone would be able to draw the conclusions, everyone would understand, but nothing, in reality, could be officially asserted.
And when they would return to Enterprise, they, to ensure that what was unofficial couldn't become official, jeopardizing careers of both, and forcing the Captain to drastic choices and inevitable, should unavoidably have to give up that wonderful fullness, should restrict that stupendous freedom to fully love each other in which they could bask now.
It was T'Pol who broke the silence. She shifted uncomfortably in the Trip's arms.
"Trip ..."
"Yes, babe?"
"I will miss all this, when we are back to Enterprise. I... will sigh for it."
"But, darling, it is not very Vulcan on your part what you..."
"It is not Vulcan, but it is quite true. Logic itself dictates that I realize and admit it."
Trip held his T'Pol strictly to him. "Yeah, my love."
His hand began to caress, almost without him being conscious, the cheek of T'Pol. "And my nostalgia won't be less than yours."
A few more minutes of silence. Then ...
"Trip?"
"Yes, babe?"
"Enterprise is important to you."
Trip shifted in turn, not exactly at ease. He did not like that question in shape of statement by T'Pol. What did it mean? He spoke cautiously. "Well, of course."
"Extremely important."
"Sure, T'Pol, but why do you ask me things you already know?"
T'Pol sat up, leaning on one arm, to be free to look good at Trip. "More important than me?"
Trip nearly choked. He snapped to sit in turn. "What the hell..."
T'Pol silenced him, gently placing the fingertips of her hand across his lips. "If... you had to choose between Enterprise and me, whom or what would you choose, T'hai'la?"
Trip understood. T'Pol needed him to say it to her with force and clarity. Vulcan or not, she needed it. And it didn't cost any effort to him to respond to her with what was the limpid truth. He stroked the tip of her delicious little nose with the tip of his index finger, and smiled tenderly at her.
He delivered a single word. "You."
T'Pol sighed. Very, very humanely. But there are things that are valid everywhere, that are universal. Like the sigh of happiness of a woman at being told to be loved, to be foremost in the minds of the man she loves.
She put herself again down, back on the bed, pulling Trip down with her, and resumed her peaceful and very rewarding position in his arms.
"Trip…"
"Eh no, babe!"
T'Pol shifted her head to look in surprise at Trip.
"Girl, enough now! Me too, I have some questions for you!"
T'Pol luxuriated blissfully in Trip's arms. She knew what he would ask her.
The question that T'Pol expected came immediately, and Trip's tone was cheerful, defiant, but a hint of apprehension could be felt. The answer of T'Pol would have the greatest value for him just as his answer had had the greatest value for her.
"And you, who or what would you choose, T'Pol?"
T'Pol decided that this could be the time to take some small revenge. After all, It had been just him who had taught her the meaning of 'to keep someone on a string', and if he had wanted to savour so many times the subtle pleasure of doing this to her, why shouldn't she take advantage of the present favourable circumstance? What was that human adage? He who makes his bed, must lie in it.
"You mean if I had to choose between you and Enterprise?"
"Well, of course."
"So you think that Enterprise is very important for me?"
"Well, T'Pol... is not it?"
"Certainly. So the question deserves careful consideration."
"Eh? Hey, T'Pol!"
"Let's see. If I choose Enterprise, and you, as you said you would do, choose me, I'm supposed to live with the big problem to endure your constant bad mood, if we both stay on Enterprise."
"Eh? But T'Pol!"
"If I choose Enterprise, and you, as you said you would do, choose me, but, because of my choice, you decide to go away from Enterprise, the big problem would arise for me to live with the illogical disapproval the rest of the crew would show to me, in consequence of what would be considered by all as a very cold Vulcan way to behave."
"Hey!"
"As a result, on balance, I think that the most logical and rational choice would be you."
"Thank you! A lot!"
Well, that was enough, though. T'Pol did not like the expression of consternation on the face of her Trip. Adding up the figures, the pleasure that her little revenge had brought to her was not at all such to overcome the displeasure that was causing her the sight of him so dismayed and saddened.
She turned well in his arms to watch his visage with ease.
"Certainly, however, logic, the one true, manifests itself and acts in a much higher way than by such petty means, Ashayam."
And it was just so. And this, she, T'Pol, had learned just thanks to him, her Trip. There was a logic highest, noblest than the small logic of the cold and limited reasoning, than the trivial '1 +1 = 2, 2 +2 = 4, 3 +3 = 6 ...'.
There was a logic able to warm the heart, besides the mind.
T'Pol decided it was worth it to show this superior truth to her Trip with words and deeds. She was pretty sure that, in this way, his expression, which now was become very intent, would be changed again, would become extremely pleasant to observe, at least for her.
First. First action. – kiss – A peck, small and slight, on his lips. Very satisfactory, including the abrupt and decidedly agreeable change in his expression.
Second. Some words. Solemn, as it befits a true Vulcan. – "To live, we cannot do without air to breathe."
Third. Second action. Mh, maybe better more than only one action. And maybe better also if a little… deeper. – kiss Kiss KISS – Mh, yes. Much better.
Four. Some other words, along the same lines of the first. To create a little more waiting, and to better introduce… the next action. – "To live, we cannot do without water to quench our thirst."
Five. Third action. Mh? One or more than one? One, one only, this time, but significantly deeper. Yes. – KISS! – Ah, very good choice. Extremely satisfactory, also because of the equal and contrary (and deep alike) reaction elicited in him.
Six. Again a few words, great and solemn, vibrating with logic. Although ... well, although, to tell the truth, he seemed to be definitely more interested in actions than in words, now. – "To live, we cannot do without food for our sustenance."
Seven. Fourth action. Again, one only, and once again definitely deep. The previous one, had been exceedingly satisfactory, so why give it up? But ... mh, but ... why not also try to make it last a little longer? – KISSSSSSS! – Ah, perfect! Definitely ... yes, definitely more than satisfactory. A little hard to stop, partly because of his reaction increasingly active and participating, but ... how would he say? To lick one's moustache!
Eight. Now the logical conclusion from the preceding sentences. Obviously she should talk in such a way that he can feel that the climax is coming. – "It would be totally devoid of logic thinking to be able to do without these things."
Nine. Now the action, again. But, stop kisses. Now he hadn't to be distracted. (*Take his face in your hands. Stare into his eyes. Eat him with your eyes, full of love! Just like that. Yeah, so. Oh, Surak, how beautiful you are in this way, Ashayam! With those blue eyes waiting in anxiety for penetrating where I'm going to go, for comprehending the meaning of my words and deeds.*)
Ten. (*Tell it, now, T'Pol! Begin to make him understand!*) – "For me, to live, there's something, someone, more indispensable than air, water, food. That's a matter of fact, and denying it, it would be absolutely off logic."
Eleven. Action, action!(*Hug him! Cling to him! Make him feel how much he is indispensable to you!*) - Like that! LIKE THAT! LIKE THAT!
Twelve. (*Here you are. Here we go. Clasp him strongly and talk at the same time. Plan and softly. With your lips on his skin.*) – "So, what sort of logical Vulcan woman could I ever be, if I were thinking, illogically, irrationally, insanely, to be able to do without this someone?"
Thirteen.The point. - (*Now look at him. Watch him very well, while you say it to him, T'Pol. He mustn't have doubts.Mustn't have doubts, ever again.*) – "Without you?"
T'Pol plainly understood to have fulfilled her purpose, to have fully reached her goal.
Why? Because Trip did not speak, said nothing, almost seemed to want to avoid her gaze; however, he turned belly up in the bed with his face to the ceiling, like a man at peace with himself and the world. As if he were finally at peace. He pressed her strongly against himself and sighed loudly, and T'Pol, curled up against him, her head resting softly on his chest, heard well his sigh and felt well the relief, joy, peace, which permeated it.
And she wrapped herself in that peace and she, too, felt at peace, finally, fully, with herself and with the world.
Finally she had made it. Finally.
Finally had admitted it.
Finally had said it to him.
Sure, the two of them were there, now, sharing the bed.
Sure, she had accepted that they two were a couple, already before, even if, and only after that, she had played so long and so irresponsibly with his feelings. She had already told him clearly that she loved him, even if not with the words that a human woman would use. She had not said I love you, however, she had said it to him. Oh really she had told it! And how! And how much!
But now she had told him even more. She had told - finally – that her heart would beat madly for him… forever. That she could never do without him. Neither now or ever.
And he, with all his intelligence, his acumen, his insight, would not even have imagined how much this was true.
She was not, and would never been, the T'Pol that she had been. The old balance that had governed her life had been broken, it was shattered, and only in him, with him, for him, she could have a new equilibrium. The emotions he had aroused inside her, and that had so frightened her; that she - for him - had wanted to accept, discover, enjoy; those emotions could settle into her without destroying her, without annihilating her, only thanks to him: in him, for him, with him.
So - really - she could not do without him.
Without him, she was lost.
But this wasn't all, because the really important thing, the fact that settled things once and for all, was that she wanted things to be this way. She did not want to regain her old balance, did not want to become once again the T'Pol of a past time. It would not have been hard to do it, it would have been enough to resort to the Vulcan mental practices; but, so, she would have found her old self and would have lost him.
Then, even in this case, she would have been lost, because, what would have been her life with the old herself and without him? What would have been her life without his love? What would be served returning to be the T'Pol of a past time for then getting lost, in this way? Without love and without joy?
And the jokes? This elusive, indefinable, wonderful Human Mood, that she - in him, with him, for him - could understand, and enjoy, and exercise?
How could she now do without this Human Mood? Without this wealth, of spirit and mind, unknown to the other Vulcans, that made her feel so strong, so well, so free?
Without it, without his own, unique, Human Mood, now she would be lost. And once again, she could be able to get not lost, only relying on him.
And finally - beside all this, before and well ahead of all this - there was… her heart beating madly for him.
And without him, her heart would beat to the point to get broken.
And she would have been lost.
No, she could not do without him. Neither now or ever.
Without him, she was lost. Forever lost.
And the only way she wanted to get lost, was getting lost in him.
Finally she had understood it. Finally she had admitted it. Finally she felt at peace.
With the world.
And with herself.
The long, magical silence that followed T'Pol's words was broken by Trip.
His voice resounded strong and cheerful, even a little too much, to be honest, almost as if he wanted to tone down a little bit the atmosphere.
"Well, Hon, at this point, since we know that sooner or later the time will come and that our choice will be univocal and concordant, maybe we could even think of choosing where to live, when we no longer can think of Enterprise as… as of our home."
His hand was moving slow and gentle to caress her cheek.
"You understand, Darlin'. The two of us are children of two different worlds. What will be our new home? Our house? And who knows, if fate and you want to, of..."
"Of our children, Trip?"
The voice of Trip dropped to a whisper. "Yes, T'Pol."
A flood of memories flooded T'Pol's mind.
It had been in their third night of love. A long time ago. Her life had become a whirlwind and she was overwhelmed. And in his arms, while waiting for a sleep which never came, her soul had gotten lost in the thinking of where the two of them could find the peace and the freedom to be able to live together their dream of love, even if, at that time, she could not even imagine that, really, one day - now - both he and she could think of how to realize such a dream.
She remembered.
First she had thought Earth, the land of his birth, his homeworld. Obviously it had been her first choice, the natural option of her mind. It had been her, the one who had seduced him, who had done the first, substantial, step. She could not even think of saying: Okay, I have wanted you, I got you, I've had you, and now, to complete the work, since I want to have you forever, leave everything - life, family, affection, friends, work, habits, history, traditions - and come away with me on my planet. Even in the obfuscation that then dominated her mind and particularly that night, she had realized that such an option was unacceptable, no, inconceivable. And so... on Earth, yes, there. The... the wife - because this she felt being - would follow the husband, in the best traditions of both Earth and Vulcan.
The astonishing, highly efficient, Vulcan brain of T'Pol was able to retrace with absolute precision, sentence by sentence, word by word, the flow of thoughts that had stirred inside her, at the idea of going to live with him on Earth. (2)
oooooooooooooooooooo
[Earth will become my homeland, yes. I will go proudly to it, following the destiny of my man.
Yes, yes. I will walk next to him, triumphant and happy, ignoring...
...ignoring the disapproval which will surround us.
I, a Vulcan woman... the mate of his life. No one of his countrymen will approve. No one will understand. A halo of distrust and of animadversion will encircle us, and he... he will no longer have friends, maybe... maybe not even a job. Starfleet won't allow us to be... to be...]
oooooooooooooooooooo
The dejection that had gripped T'Pol that night, when she had realized what living together on Earth would have brought the two of them, had it been such that even now, despite all that had happened, despite the vast and deep amount of changes that had taken place in her, in him, in the universe, she felt herself again grasped by that despondency and couldn't help but remember perfectly how her mind, desperately looking for a solution, had ended up to deceive itself again.
oooooooooooooooooooo
[Oh, but what does that matter? What does count? I... I know, yes, I know for sure that my man shall care nothing of all that! I...saw it in his eyes, in his face. In his expression, his posture. His deportment, his behaviour.
I heard it in his voice, in his words. In his tone.
He wants me, he... how would he say?... doesn't give a damn about Starfleet, and homeworld, and friends, and job... He - Oh, I know! I am sure! - he will give up everything for me!
And then... why should we live on Earth? There is Vulcan, too. My own homeworld. If my mate has to leave all that was his previous life to stay with me, why shouldn't we choose to live on Vulcan?
He is clever, smart, skilful, adaptable, resilient. His mind is open, he is highly capable of learning, of making himself well accepted to everyone. Oh yes, sure! Even...
... even to my countrymen. To my cold, disdainful, supercilious countrymen. To my countrymen, so scornful toward Humans. And... and who will very contemptuously behave toward me. With me, who has dared defy the High Command, and, not content, has dared become the mate of a Human man. And has dared to bring him to Vulcan, and to display him, in open air, as the man who has me, to whom I belong.
The mate I have chosen.
A Human. Not a Vulcan.
In despite of all our traditions, our beliefs, our convictions. In spite of my betrothal, made in accord with our customs. In spite of everything.
I will become a pariah, in my homeland, and I will condemn my man to the same fate.]
oooooooooooooooooooo
Two pariahs, two outcasts, yes, she and he. So ...
oooooooooooooooooooo
[There must be a solution, there must be.
And if he and I, both of us, give up both our homelands? Another world, foreign, distant, virgin, willing to welcome us, to... to accept such a strange couple.
There has to be such a world, it must exist. A world where we can live, together, without shame and without concerns, where we may be able to have a free life, to have... to have children, if it might be possible, uncaring of their... of their being different.
Oh yes yes yes! That's the remedy, the solution. We will live for ourselves, we have no need of anything else.
That's the logical answer to all of our problems.
Logical, yes. Logic wants this, as much as the same logic dictates that I can no longer stay without him!
It's logical, it's logical, it's...
Logical? LOGICAL?]
oooooooooooooooooooo
Oh yes, very logical! Really! Even then, even in her confusion, and although for reasons very different from those that could count now, she had come to realize, almost angrily, the illogicality of her so-called logical solution.
And now? Now, or rather, when the time would come, - and it would come - what could have been the solution really logical?
"Hon?"
What she now had almost got to consider as her true name, shook T'Pol. Her Trip called her back to the reality of this night, this present night; she should not get lost in the distant, gone by, wholeness of that other night.
"Trip?"
"You know, Hon." - The voice of her Trip was low, thoughtfully. – "This is not the first time that I think of it, I mean of where the two of us could think to live the day when we have to decide. Think..." - A titter, a little forced, it seemed to T'Pol – "...think that such thoughts stirred within me from the very beginning of our relationship. I can also tell you exactly when. In our third night of love."
T'Pol's eyes widened in amazement. In their third night of love! Just when she too had had these thoughts!
But how much... She drew close even more to her Trip ... how much were they - really! - one thing? How powerful was the Bond that linked them? Evidently far beyond what could be possible not only to suppose, but even imagine!
Katra of Surak! How could she ever have thought it might be possible not to get tied to him? The two of them .. the two of them were really one body and one mind!
She concentrated. She did not want to - did not have to! - miss absolutely nothing of what her - her, her, her! - Bond-Mate was telling her.
She curled up in his body and in his soul. In his speaking. Her whole Katra became arched with keen alertness.
"My first thought was for Earth, darling. Forgive me if I have not thought about Vulcan in the first instance, but... well, babe... you know well the narrow limits of my poor brain."
(*Narrow, T'hai'la? Narrow? That's why you never gave up hope? Namely, that, one day, finally I could understand? That's why you never ceased to fight? Is it because your brain, your mind, is narrow?*)
"But, even with these narrow limits, it took a nanosecond to realize the idiocy of such an idea. What sort of welcome could we have had on Earth? Acceptation? Benevolence? In the best of hypothesis we would have been ostracized, if not hated. A Vulcan woman, a member of such a bumptious race, all but liked by Humans, life-mate of a Human man. Vulcan... Vulcan whore could have been the appellative to which you could have been forced to become inured, if I know a little bit my civil countrymen. And me? What kind of behaviour toward me should I have had to expect from my sympathetic and open-minded fellow-citizens? Not to mention Starfleet."
T'Pol would have wanted to say to him that he was wrong, that the fears he had harboured about how his compatriots could accept the idea that he and she could live together on Earth as a veritable couple, was unfounded, did not correspond to reality, but she knew it was not, that he was right, and she knew also how much he hated, and rightly so, falsehood.
"So what, Honey? Oh to hell, I thought! But what the hell could Starfleet have mattered to me? And Earth? I had you, my treasure, you! So… Vulcan. Yes. Vulcan. Your homeland. I would have followed you on your world, to live with you. My friends? My job? My family? My home? Hell! There are things against which any life project one can have done is fated to fade away, as moonlight when it comes sunlight. And my sunlight were - is - you, T'Pol."
T'Pol was listening, as if she were immersed in a cloud. In her mind, in her heart, she had said it to herself, that night, that he would have been willing to give up everything for her, and now she was learning from his own lips that it was just so, that her marvellous K'diwa had thought of doing it, and this, just while she had been thinking that he would be willing to do so.
"So, Vulcan. Sure. Your own homeworld, my new homeworld. It wouldn't be easy, but I... was tough." - Trip let out a giggle full of irony. Of bitter self-irony. T'Pol was perfectly able to sense it. – "Such, at least, I wanted to think that I was."
(*Tough? No, I do not think that this term is able to render not even a little bit what you really are, my so-said narrow-minded Ashayam. My immensely tough, big, strong Ashayam.*)
"And then, after all, I would have had your help."
(*All my help, T'hai'la. And all my Vulcan heart.*)
"Your help. Yeah. Sure. But would you be yet well accepted on your world, after the challenge you had thrown to the High Command? Couldn't you be regarded almost... almost as a rebel? And a rebel who had dared tie herself to a Human man, and dared to bring him - me - on her homeland as her life mate. No. Impossible. We couldn't live there."
The sadly ironic chuckle, was heard again. "Oh, I know, I know, Hon. No doubt, what I'm telling you of what I had thought, is making me looking like a damn fool. See a little, to what kind of idiot you have made a gift of yourself!"
(*So, not only far from being really tough, at least in your judgment, but also stupid, in addition! Oh sure, definitely! How stupid you are, my T'hai'la! But how could you think that what you thought was real? Stupid, stupid my Ashayam. Who had it all figured out! Just as the clever, smart, sensitive man that you are!*)
"Anyway, so I thought things were. So what? What could remain for us? Provided ... provided I wasn't grossly deceiving myself about your feelings towards me."
(*No! No no! You were not deceiving yourself at all, T'hai'la!*)
"Well, I thought, space is filled with lots of beautiful worlds; there must be one of them, where we can live our life and our love."
(*One mind, one soul. You and I this we are, Ashayam. I would never have believed - before tonight, before you told me about all this - that this were true up to this point.*)
Trip stopped for a moment, as if he were gathering his ideas. His voice sounded even more pensive when he spoke again.
"Could this be true, Hon? I mean, our eventual homeland, could it be a totally new homeland? I mean, not your true homeland or mine? Would it be possible for us to forget everything that we were and we could have been, I, on Earth, and you, of Vulcan, and… and…"
Trip stopped again. It seemed that he did not know how to continue, but T'Pol knew that it was not so. It was true, he was not a man of long speeches, but when he decided, he felt it was appropriate to speak, he spoke. And well. And for a long time, too, if it was the case.
And if now - right now - he'd stopped talking ... T'Pol knew exactly why.
So, she understood it was time also for her to speak.
She sat up and squatted sitting on the bed next to him.
She needed him to see her face clearly, while she was telling him what it had come the moment to say.
"Trip, tonight I have finally decided to make it clear to you that I can not do without you, that never ever I will be able to live without you. The... logic itself, if my heart was not enough, requires it."
Trip was absolutely quiet. Motionless. One could say inert. But his eyes, not. They were very alive. And extraordinarily attentive.
T'Pol stretched out her hand, as if she wanted to touch those eyes, but she stopped, as if she had not the courage to do so. How beautiful they were, those blue eyes, which watched her, in the anxious waiting to know what she would say!
"And you think that, against all logic, against ... this deepest feeling that I feel for you, could it be possible that I do not wish to give you children?"
Trip's hand snapped to grasp that of T'Pol. Her little, delicate hand got lost, happy, in the great, callous hand of Trip.
"I want to give you children, Ashayam."
"T'Pol ..."
"I do not know if this will ever be possible, although... although Lorian is ... was ... no, hopefully, he is still proof that this is possible. But, in any case, I want it, Trip. I want it with all my logic. And with all my heart."
Trip could not answer, could not flood T'Pol with all the powerful flow of unspeakable joy that T'Pol's words had unleashed within him.
The look, suddenly - unequivocally - sad of her, stopped him.
"But if I can not give you children, my T'hai'la, you ... you..."
Trip jumped to sit and clenched tightly to him his T'Pol, with all the strength of his love.
"I will always love you, T'Pol."
He heard her sigh, happy, hugged to him.
They stood so, embraced each other for a few moments. Trip then burst into laughter.
T'Pol reluctantly pulled away from him and looked at him, her eyebrow raised, in the expression: what the hell is wrong with you?
Trip laughed again and threw himself again lying on the bed, dragging her and holding her again embraced.
"Okay, okay, okay. But ultimately, babe, where the hell will we go to live, the two of us, when the time comes?"
T'Pol immediately adapted to the change of route of the tone of Trip. He was right. They had to find an answer and also avoid being overwhelmed by emotions. Strange it was him, not her, to try to tone down, to recall in his own way the two of them to the need to contain emotions, but in reality, it was not so strange. T'Pol now was well aware of the unexpected (for those who, meeting him for the first time, were primarily impressed by his character - how to say? - a wee bit exuberant) ability of control which he possessed, but there was something else which she had become aware of. It was as if it had been established between them a tacit agreement: when the intensity of the emotions she was feeling - and that Trip felt perfectly well that she was feeling - reached for what could be a dangerous level of alert, he, even saying nothing explicitly, was however as if was telling her: 'that's enough, danger, red alert , return to do the perfect Vulcan'.
It could be a witticism, a joke, a nonsense purposely said, or a sudden and unexpected laugh, an abrupt shift in the way he was acting and speaking, as now. Basically he was saying to her: 'hey, Hon, do the serious person, do the Vulcan. And be you to lead things exactly the way you should do', because he knew that this was her own good. As always he behaved in order to protect her, without embarrassing her. In the way that only he knew, he always protected her.
She settled down very well again in his arms. Okay, he wanted her to resume the leadership of the talk? Her - something that seemed a giggle burst out inside her - to do the serious person? Agreed. Go on, then. "Very well, T'hai'la, let's see a little. I think, first of all, we must think of our eventual children."
"Which means?"
"Whether we can have them or not, it is needed, however, that we have the most care of their good. We must care about their future. "
"Well, of course. So?"
"The place where we're going to live, has to be safe and comfortable for them."
"Obvious."
"We, in one way or another, will be able to adapt to a new planet, indeed it could be for us the best solution, but it would be right for them..."
"…put them in an environment so alien to us and, therefore, to them? That's what you mean?"
"Yes, Trip. The lack of knowledge and familiarity, generates dangers, and even more so if you think that they would be… new creatures."
"New… creatures!?"
"The first examples of something entirely new, the children of a Human male and ..."
"A Vulcan female."
"Yes, and therefore even more alien, more foreign, in the eyes of the world, than how we two might appear. And we both are well aware of the malice that people, wherever you are, often, if not always, destines to what, to whom…"
"…is foreign."
"Yes, Trip."
"Damn, Hon! We can't make such a choice!"
"No."
"No, absolutely no, Hon."
Well, one couldn't say that the reasoning of T'Pol were not absolutely wise and full of logic. On the other hand - Trip grinned to himself - when ever his sweetheart, could not make wise reasonings and devoid of logic? But there was something... Mh. Something was omitted.
T'Pol, to want a closer look, was an adventurous spirit and all one could say about her except that she was not able to deal with - and dominate - difficult situations, even so hard that no one else would be able to face and handle.
Guys! But she was the one who had dared to embark - alone, the only one of her kind - with a horde of primitive Humans, or, at least, that was what she thought of them at that time. And she had been perfectly able to tackle and dominate this horde. In fact, to tell the truth - the internal grin of Trip became accentuated not a little - she had also gone quite a bit further.
So what? How was it possible that she was afraid of not being able to manage the education of any of their children on a planet that was not ...
Suddenly, Trip realized.
A planet that was not Vulcan. Not Earth, no. But Vulcan. Of course, T'Pol would never have dared to tell him this, in fact she would never dare say it clearly even to herself, but that was the reason. Why? But because she was a Vulcan, special, as you like, but still a Vulcan.
She did not want their children to grow up and live on an alien world because ... because she wanted them to grow up and live on Vulcan. She was tied deeply to her homeworld. She was so, precisely, for the simple fact that she was Vulcan. Even if unconsciously, she could not think that the world where their children would grow up, couldn't be Vulcan.
She would never have made it clear to him, she could not risk appearing so unfair to him, but it was so.
And it was just that it was so, because, if she had not felt this desire, this need, she would no longer be a real, albeit special, Vulcan, and he, Trip, would never have forgiven himself that, because of him, she had changed to the point of no longer being an authentic Vulcan .
He loved her deeply for what she was. He could never love a T'Pol different from T'Pol.
What she said, almost timidly, just at that moment, made it clear to Trip that he had hit the mark.
"And then, T'hai'la, how could we educate our children, really, according to ..."
"Our traditions? You mean this, Hon?"
"Yes, Trip. Strong roots make the tree strong, Ashayam. I feel that it would be unfair not to transmit to them the teachings of our ancestors, the deep strength of our heritage, and, alone, in a foreign environment, we would not be able to do so."
Sweet, splendid, wonderful, Vulcan T'Pol! (*Okay, my love. You deserve this and more!*)
He hugged her strongly to him. He spoke with the most gleeful of voices. "As usual, Darling, you're not wrong. Okay. Vulcan then!"
T'Pol jumped to sit up and turned her face down toward him. The most incredulous of glances shone in her eyes. "Trip! I did not mean that!"
Trip laughed heartily and pulled her down on his chest. "But I do!"
T'Pol struggled to extricate herself from his embrace. She pulled herself up again. She looked at him half in disbelief half almost annoyed. "Trip, there is not only Vulcan and its history, its traditions. My roots. There are at stake also your roots. There is also Earth. Your homeworld. Your homeland!"
"My homeland, T'Pol?"
"Yes, Trip. Your ..."
And, at that point, T'Pol suddenly stopped.
It was hard for her to bear his look as she realized.
She remembered his words when, on returning from the Expanse, he had told her that he didn't know, after all, where to go. She had taken the opportunity to invite him to Vulcan without giving much to see that she wanted him to go there with her.
But at that time she didn't know everything there was to know about him. Now, yes.
Now she knew.
And she felt deeply guilty.
But Trip's eyes shone of cheerfulness again. He gazed at her with joy. "Darlin', you know. My homeland is you."
Just like that. It was the case to say: fortunately, just like that. Because he ... actually ... it was a non-homeland. He loved Earth and was even willing to die for it and for its sons, but beyond that ...
Probably, or, perhaps certainly, he would be willing to do the same for Vulcan, which, thinking well about it, he most likely loved more than Earth, because it had given to him T'Pol. And if Andoria had required it, he would answer to its call. He would answer to the call of any world that were threatened by war or injustice. But for the rest ...
He had never been able to have roots. His family ... honestly, it was nothing for him for .. for many reasons. The only one who had really counted for him had been ... had been his sister. Who was no longer there. And this, to think of it, had given the final, definitive cut to his weak roots. Friends? But had he really friends? Malcolm, probably, and - but it was really still the case? - John. And Oshi, maybe. Perhaps, in a sense, even Phlox. And Anna Hess? Perhaps, some way. But there, on Earth, he had no friends, or rather, true friends. It was easy for him to gain the sympathies of anyone with his exuberance, but what was his exuberance if not the reflection of his loneliness, which only T'Pol had been able to fill with her sublime presence? With the fulness of her love?
It was true, she had made him suffer, but only because she was defenceless and unprepared in the face of something that was outside of all she knew, that wasn't her quiet world. The effort that she had to do to take the plunge had been such that she had almost gotten lost. He knew it, even though he knew that she did not know that he knew, and only if she had found the courage to tell him what he knew, he - maybe, just maybe - would have told her that he knew. (3) This effort on her part was something that went beyond any possible debt of gratitude that he could ever think to extinguish towards her.
So what? Didn't she deserve whichever sacrifice on his part?
End then, actually, wanting to be perfectly honest, what was Earth for him? The place where he was born. Nothing more. He was a free spirit, he felt himself a citizen of the Universe. It had not been very difficult for him to leave everything behind, when he had embarked on Enterprise.
And he didn't... didn't feel he had a home that was not Enterprise. Then, when Enterprise could no longer be his home, why not think of his home as the home of the woman who had become everything for him? His landing land? His true home?
T'Pol was his home, his landing land. His landing place. And where she had been, he would have been at home.
And he said it to her. With force. With all the puissance of his love.
"Where you are, T'Pol, there it's my home."
T'Pol did not oppose the tears of joy that welled up, sudden, in her eyes.
T'Pol turned in bed watching Trip. "Did you find it funny?"
Trip chuckled. "Well, you didn't, Hon?"
T'Pol quirked slightly her eyebrow. "I do not know. I do not understand the human humour."
Trip chuckled again, a little more loudly. He squeezed T'Pol's hand from under the sheet. "Ah, you don't, eh, darling?"
T'Pol returned the hand hold of Trip. "Do you doubt my words, T'hai'la?
"Never ever!" Trip's expression appeared as genuinely horrified. Then it became thoughtful. "Certainly, though, I do not understand how, before entering the elevator to get to our room, you've turned to look so intently at the concierge. You know, I even got the impression that you were smiling, in watching him."
T'Pol stared at Trip. A little flame danced in her eyes. "Jokes of the artificial light, Ashayam."
"Oh sure. Jokes." Trip chortled again. "Jokes of the artificial light, of course."
"But Trip." - T'Pol's face was deadly serious – "Really. How could I - I, T'Pol - have found something funny in the visage of the concierge? Simply because he did not seem to know which way he should turn and tried to hide what you could read in his face?"
Trip looked at T'Pol in the manner of T'Pol. "And what could it be read in his face?"
"Ah, I do not know. Maybe something as... - how would you say? - But whence the hell are they coming, these two, at this time of night, in a bathing suit and all wet, in addition? And where bloody hell are they gone ending up, the whiskers of him? "
Trip brought all of a sudden his hand to his lips Damn! It was true. He burst out laughing, then quickly pulled himself together. "Ah, here. Okay, now I understand. Of course it is unfortunate that you are so little able to read human expressions, as well as understand what can be found funny in them."
"Actually, it's really a shame. It would be extremely useful being able to do this."
"Yes, really. But you know what, darlin'?"
"What, Trip?"
Trip's hand rose, from under the bed sheet, to softly caress T'Pol's cheek. "I am convinced that you can have some hope."
Watching deadpan Trip, T'Pol cocked her head to fully savour the touch of his hand. "That's good. And…" - The unmistakable shadow of a smile hovered on T'Pol's lips. – "What should I do to make this hope fully flourish?"
Trip came closer to T'Pol and set down a tender kiss on her lips.
Then he drew back and looked at her with eyes bright and smiling. "This is my job."
T'Pol came closer to Trip, in her turn, and rubbed softly her lips against his. "I suppose I should answer: I am lost."
Trip laughed. Playfully. "Yes, darlin'. You're lost."
T'Pol did not answer, said nothing. She simply curled up well, very well, against Trip under the sheet.
For a while there was silence. Both were enjoying, fully and with delight, that precious freedom to be able to be the one for the other what they felt that they were and wanted to be.
But that they could no longer completely be, when they would return to Enterprise.
They both knew it.
And they both knew that the day would come for them to make a choice. For real.
Certainly, a sort of first step had been done, in reality. Nothing had been said clearly, neither the one nor the other had said: Here, look, we love each other, we two are a couple in love. Simply the two of them had decided to spend together the period of their Shore Leave. This, albeit in a way a little quaint and allusive, had been shown to the Captain, Malcolm Reed, Hoshi Sato, and this everyone else would know. (1)
Of course, everyone would be able to draw the conclusions, everyone would understand, but nothing, in reality, could be officially asserted.
And when they would return to Enterprise, they, to ensure that what was unofficial couldn't become official, jeopardizing careers of both, and forcing the Captain to drastic choices and inevitable, should unavoidably have to give up that wonderful fullness, should restrict that stupendous freedom to fully love each other in which they could bask now.
It was T'Pol who broke the silence. She shifted uncomfortably in the Trip's arms.
"Trip ..."
"Yes, babe?"
"I will miss all this, when we are back to Enterprise. I... will sigh for it."
"But, darling, it is not very Vulcan on your part what you..."
"It is not Vulcan, but it is quite true. Logic itself dictates that I realize and admit it."
Trip held his T'Pol strictly to him. "Yeah, my love."
His hand began to caress, almost without him being conscious, the cheek of T'Pol. "And my nostalgia won't be less than yours."
A few more minutes of silence. Then ...
"Trip?"
"Yes, babe?"
"Enterprise is important to you."
Trip shifted in turn, not exactly at ease. He did not like that question in shape of statement by T'Pol. What did it mean? He spoke cautiously. "Well, of course."
"Extremely important."
"Sure, T'Pol, but why do you ask me things you already know?"
T'Pol sat up, leaning on one arm, to be free to look good at Trip. "More important than me?"
Trip nearly choked. He snapped to sit in turn. "What the hell..."
T'Pol silenced him, gently placing the fingertips of her hand across his lips. "If... you had to choose between Enterprise and me, whom or what would you choose, T'hai'la?"
Trip understood. T'Pol needed him to say it to her with force and clarity. Vulcan or not, she needed it. And it didn't cost any effort to him to respond to her with what was the limpid truth. He stroked the tip of her delicious little nose with the tip of his index finger, and smiled tenderly at her.
He delivered a single word. "You."
T'Pol sighed. Very, very humanely. But there are things that are valid everywhere, that are universal. Like the sigh of happiness of a woman at being told to be loved, to be foremost in the minds of the man she loves.
She put herself again down, back on the bed, pulling Trip down with her, and resumed her peaceful and very rewarding position in his arms.
"Trip…"
"Eh no, babe!"
T'Pol shifted her head to look in surprise at Trip.
"Girl, enough now! Me too, I have some questions for you!"
T'Pol luxuriated blissfully in Trip's arms. She knew what he would ask her.
The question that T'Pol expected came immediately, and Trip's tone was cheerful, defiant, but a hint of apprehension could be felt. The answer of T'Pol would have the greatest value for him just as his answer had had the greatest value for her.
"And you, who or what would you choose, T'Pol?"
T'Pol decided that this could be the time to take some small revenge. After all, It had been just him who had taught her the meaning of 'to keep someone on a string', and if he had wanted to savour so many times the subtle pleasure of doing this to her, why shouldn't she take advantage of the present favourable circumstance? What was that human adage? He who makes his bed, must lie in it.
"You mean if I had to choose between you and Enterprise?"
"Well, of course."
"So you think that Enterprise is very important for me?"
"Well, T'Pol... is not it?"
"Certainly. So the question deserves careful consideration."
"Eh? Hey, T'Pol!"
"Let's see. If I choose Enterprise, and you, as you said you would do, choose me, I'm supposed to live with the big problem to endure your constant bad mood, if we both stay on Enterprise."
"Eh? But T'Pol!"
"If I choose Enterprise, and you, as you said you would do, choose me, but, because of my choice, you decide to go away from Enterprise, the big problem would arise for me to live with the illogical disapproval the rest of the crew would show to me, in consequence of what would be considered by all as a very cold Vulcan way to behave."
"Hey!"
"As a result, on balance, I think that the most logical and rational choice would be you."
"Thank you! A lot!"
Well, that was enough, though. T'Pol did not like the expression of consternation on the face of her Trip. Adding up the figures, the pleasure that her little revenge had brought to her was not at all such to overcome the displeasure that was causing her the sight of him so dismayed and saddened.
She turned well in his arms to watch his visage with ease.
"Certainly, however, logic, the one true, manifests itself and acts in a much higher way than by such petty means, Ashayam."
And it was just so. And this, she, T'Pol, had learned just thanks to him, her Trip. There was a logic highest, noblest than the small logic of the cold and limited reasoning, than the trivial '1 +1 = 2, 2 +2 = 4, 3 +3 = 6 ...'.
There was a logic able to warm the heart, besides the mind.
T'Pol decided it was worth it to show this superior truth to her Trip with words and deeds. She was pretty sure that, in this way, his expression, which now was become very intent, would be changed again, would become extremely pleasant to observe, at least for her.
First. First action. – kiss – A peck, small and slight, on his lips. Very satisfactory, including the abrupt and decidedly agreeable change in his expression.
Second. Some words. Solemn, as it befits a true Vulcan. – "To live, we cannot do without air to breathe."
Third. Second action. Mh, maybe better more than only one action. And maybe better also if a little… deeper. – kiss Kiss KISS – Mh, yes. Much better.
Four. Some other words, along the same lines of the first. To create a little more waiting, and to better introduce… the next action. – "To live, we cannot do without water to quench our thirst."
Five. Third action. Mh? One or more than one? One, one only, this time, but significantly deeper. Yes. – KISS! – Ah, very good choice. Extremely satisfactory, also because of the equal and contrary (and deep alike) reaction elicited in him.
Six. Again a few words, great and solemn, vibrating with logic. Although ... well, although, to tell the truth, he seemed to be definitely more interested in actions than in words, now. – "To live, we cannot do without food for our sustenance."
Seven. Fourth action. Again, one only, and once again definitely deep. The previous one, had been exceedingly satisfactory, so why give it up? But ... mh, but ... why not also try to make it last a little longer? – KISSSSSSS! – Ah, perfect! Definitely ... yes, definitely more than satisfactory. A little hard to stop, partly because of his reaction increasingly active and participating, but ... how would he say? To lick one's moustache!
Eight. Now the logical conclusion from the preceding sentences. Obviously she should talk in such a way that he can feel that the climax is coming. – "It would be totally devoid of logic thinking to be able to do without these things."
Nine. Now the action, again. But, stop kisses. Now he hadn't to be distracted. (*Take his face in your hands. Stare into his eyes. Eat him with your eyes, full of love! Just like that. Yeah, so. Oh, Surak, how beautiful you are in this way, Ashayam! With those blue eyes waiting in anxiety for penetrating where I'm going to go, for comprehending the meaning of my words and deeds.*)
Ten. (*Tell it, now, T'Pol! Begin to make him understand!*) – "For me, to live, there's something, someone, more indispensable than air, water, food. That's a matter of fact, and denying it, it would be absolutely off logic."
Eleven. Action, action!(*Hug him! Cling to him! Make him feel how much he is indispensable to you!*) - Like that! LIKE THAT! LIKE THAT!
Twelve. (*Here you are. Here we go. Clasp him strongly and talk at the same time. Plan and softly. With your lips on his skin.*) – "So, what sort of logical Vulcan woman could I ever be, if I were thinking, illogically, irrationally, insanely, to be able to do without this someone?"
Thirteen.The point. - (*Now look at him. Watch him very well, while you say it to him, T'Pol. He mustn't have doubts.Mustn't have doubts, ever again.*) – "Without you?"
T'Pol plainly understood to have fulfilled her purpose, to have fully reached her goal.
Why? Because Trip did not speak, said nothing, almost seemed to want to avoid her gaze; however, he turned belly up in the bed with his face to the ceiling, like a man at peace with himself and the world. As if he were finally at peace. He pressed her strongly against himself and sighed loudly, and T'Pol, curled up against him, her head resting softly on his chest, heard well his sigh and felt well the relief, joy, peace, which permeated it.
And she wrapped herself in that peace and she, too, felt at peace, finally, fully, with herself and with the world.
Finally she had made it. Finally.
Finally had admitted it.
Finally had said it to him.
Sure, the two of them were there, now, sharing the bed.
Sure, she had accepted that they two were a couple, already before, even if, and only after that, she had played so long and so irresponsibly with his feelings. She had already told him clearly that she loved him, even if not with the words that a human woman would use. She had not said I love you, however, she had said it to him. Oh really she had told it! And how! And how much!
But now she had told him even more. She had told - finally – that her heart would beat madly for him… forever. That she could never do without him. Neither now or ever.
And he, with all his intelligence, his acumen, his insight, would not even have imagined how much this was true.
She was not, and would never been, the T'Pol that she had been. The old balance that had governed her life had been broken, it was shattered, and only in him, with him, for him, she could have a new equilibrium. The emotions he had aroused inside her, and that had so frightened her; that she - for him - had wanted to accept, discover, enjoy; those emotions could settle into her without destroying her, without annihilating her, only thanks to him: in him, for him, with him.
So - really - she could not do without him.
Without him, she was lost.
But this wasn't all, because the really important thing, the fact that settled things once and for all, was that she wanted things to be this way. She did not want to regain her old balance, did not want to become once again the T'Pol of a past time. It would not have been hard to do it, it would have been enough to resort to the Vulcan mental practices; but, so, she would have found her old self and would have lost him.
Then, even in this case, she would have been lost, because, what would have been her life with the old herself and without him? What would have been her life without his love? What would be served returning to be the T'Pol of a past time for then getting lost, in this way? Without love and without joy?
And the jokes? This elusive, indefinable, wonderful Human Mood, that she - in him, with him, for him - could understand, and enjoy, and exercise?
How could she now do without this Human Mood? Without this wealth, of spirit and mind, unknown to the other Vulcans, that made her feel so strong, so well, so free?
Without it, without his own, unique, Human Mood, now she would be lost. And once again, she could be able to get not lost, only relying on him.
And finally - beside all this, before and well ahead of all this - there was… her heart beating madly for him.
And without him, her heart would beat to the point to get broken.
And she would have been lost.
No, she could not do without him. Neither now or ever.
Without him, she was lost. Forever lost.
And the only way she wanted to get lost, was getting lost in him.
Finally she had understood it. Finally she had admitted it. Finally she felt at peace.
With the world.
And with herself.
The long, magical silence that followed T'Pol's words was broken by Trip.
His voice resounded strong and cheerful, even a little too much, to be honest, almost as if he wanted to tone down a little bit the atmosphere.
"Well, Hon, at this point, since we know that sooner or later the time will come and that our choice will be univocal and concordant, maybe we could even think of choosing where to live, when we no longer can think of Enterprise as… as of our home."
His hand was moving slow and gentle to caress her cheek.
"You understand, Darlin'. The two of us are children of two different worlds. What will be our new home? Our house? And who knows, if fate and you want to, of..."
"Of our children, Trip?"
The voice of Trip dropped to a whisper. "Yes, T'Pol."
A flood of memories flooded T'Pol's mind.
It had been in their third night of love. A long time ago. Her life had become a whirlwind and she was overwhelmed. And in his arms, while waiting for a sleep which never came, her soul had gotten lost in the thinking of where the two of them could find the peace and the freedom to be able to live together their dream of love, even if, at that time, she could not even imagine that, really, one day - now - both he and she could think of how to realize such a dream.
She remembered.
First she had thought Earth, the land of his birth, his homeworld. Obviously it had been her first choice, the natural option of her mind. It had been her, the one who had seduced him, who had done the first, substantial, step. She could not even think of saying: Okay, I have wanted you, I got you, I've had you, and now, to complete the work, since I want to have you forever, leave everything - life, family, affection, friends, work, habits, history, traditions - and come away with me on my planet. Even in the obfuscation that then dominated her mind and particularly that night, she had realized that such an option was unacceptable, no, inconceivable. And so... on Earth, yes, there. The... the wife - because this she felt being - would follow the husband, in the best traditions of both Earth and Vulcan.
The astonishing, highly efficient, Vulcan brain of T'Pol was able to retrace with absolute precision, sentence by sentence, word by word, the flow of thoughts that had stirred inside her, at the idea of going to live with him on Earth. (2)
oooooooooooooooooooo
[Earth will become my homeland, yes. I will go proudly to it, following the destiny of my man.
Yes, yes. I will walk next to him, triumphant and happy, ignoring...
...ignoring the disapproval which will surround us.
I, a Vulcan woman... the mate of his life. No one of his countrymen will approve. No one will understand. A halo of distrust and of animadversion will encircle us, and he... he will no longer have friends, maybe... maybe not even a job. Starfleet won't allow us to be... to be...]
oooooooooooooooooooo
The dejection that had gripped T'Pol that night, when she had realized what living together on Earth would have brought the two of them, had it been such that even now, despite all that had happened, despite the vast and deep amount of changes that had taken place in her, in him, in the universe, she felt herself again grasped by that despondency and couldn't help but remember perfectly how her mind, desperately looking for a solution, had ended up to deceive itself again.
oooooooooooooooooooo
[Oh, but what does that matter? What does count? I... I know, yes, I know for sure that my man shall care nothing of all that! I...saw it in his eyes, in his face. In his expression, his posture. His deportment, his behaviour.
I heard it in his voice, in his words. In his tone.
He wants me, he... how would he say?... doesn't give a damn about Starfleet, and homeworld, and friends, and job... He - Oh, I know! I am sure! - he will give up everything for me!
And then... why should we live on Earth? There is Vulcan, too. My own homeworld. If my mate has to leave all that was his previous life to stay with me, why shouldn't we choose to live on Vulcan?
He is clever, smart, skilful, adaptable, resilient. His mind is open, he is highly capable of learning, of making himself well accepted to everyone. Oh yes, sure! Even...
... even to my countrymen. To my cold, disdainful, supercilious countrymen. To my countrymen, so scornful toward Humans. And... and who will very contemptuously behave toward me. With me, who has dared defy the High Command, and, not content, has dared become the mate of a Human man. And has dared to bring him to Vulcan, and to display him, in open air, as the man who has me, to whom I belong.
The mate I have chosen.
A Human. Not a Vulcan.
In despite of all our traditions, our beliefs, our convictions. In spite of my betrothal, made in accord with our customs. In spite of everything.
I will become a pariah, in my homeland, and I will condemn my man to the same fate.]
oooooooooooooooooooo
Two pariahs, two outcasts, yes, she and he. So ...
oooooooooooooooooooo
[There must be a solution, there must be.
And if he and I, both of us, give up both our homelands? Another world, foreign, distant, virgin, willing to welcome us, to... to accept such a strange couple.
There has to be such a world, it must exist. A world where we can live, together, without shame and without concerns, where we may be able to have a free life, to have... to have children, if it might be possible, uncaring of their... of their being different.
Oh yes yes yes! That's the remedy, the solution. We will live for ourselves, we have no need of anything else.
That's the logical answer to all of our problems.
Logical, yes. Logic wants this, as much as the same logic dictates that I can no longer stay without him!
It's logical, it's logical, it's...
Logical? LOGICAL?]
oooooooooooooooooooo
Oh yes, very logical! Really! Even then, even in her confusion, and although for reasons very different from those that could count now, she had come to realize, almost angrily, the illogicality of her so-called logical solution.
And now? Now, or rather, when the time would come, - and it would come - what could have been the solution really logical?
"Hon?"
What she now had almost got to consider as her true name, shook T'Pol. Her Trip called her back to the reality of this night, this present night; she should not get lost in the distant, gone by, wholeness of that other night.
"Trip?"
"You know, Hon." - The voice of her Trip was low, thoughtfully. – "This is not the first time that I think of it, I mean of where the two of us could think to live the day when we have to decide. Think..." - A titter, a little forced, it seemed to T'Pol – "...think that such thoughts stirred within me from the very beginning of our relationship. I can also tell you exactly when. In our third night of love."
T'Pol's eyes widened in amazement. In their third night of love! Just when she too had had these thoughts!
But how much... She drew close even more to her Trip ... how much were they - really! - one thing? How powerful was the Bond that linked them? Evidently far beyond what could be possible not only to suppose, but even imagine!
Katra of Surak! How could she ever have thought it might be possible not to get tied to him? The two of them .. the two of them were really one body and one mind!
She concentrated. She did not want to - did not have to! - miss absolutely nothing of what her - her, her, her! - Bond-Mate was telling her.
She curled up in his body and in his soul. In his speaking. Her whole Katra became arched with keen alertness.
"My first thought was for Earth, darling. Forgive me if I have not thought about Vulcan in the first instance, but... well, babe... you know well the narrow limits of my poor brain."
(*Narrow, T'hai'la? Narrow? That's why you never gave up hope? Namely, that, one day, finally I could understand? That's why you never ceased to fight? Is it because your brain, your mind, is narrow?*)
"But, even with these narrow limits, it took a nanosecond to realize the idiocy of such an idea. What sort of welcome could we have had on Earth? Acceptation? Benevolence? In the best of hypothesis we would have been ostracized, if not hated. A Vulcan woman, a member of such a bumptious race, all but liked by Humans, life-mate of a Human man. Vulcan... Vulcan whore could have been the appellative to which you could have been forced to become inured, if I know a little bit my civil countrymen. And me? What kind of behaviour toward me should I have had to expect from my sympathetic and open-minded fellow-citizens? Not to mention Starfleet."
T'Pol would have wanted to say to him that he was wrong, that the fears he had harboured about how his compatriots could accept the idea that he and she could live together on Earth as a veritable couple, was unfounded, did not correspond to reality, but she knew it was not, that he was right, and she knew also how much he hated, and rightly so, falsehood.
"So what, Honey? Oh to hell, I thought! But what the hell could Starfleet have mattered to me? And Earth? I had you, my treasure, you! So… Vulcan. Yes. Vulcan. Your homeland. I would have followed you on your world, to live with you. My friends? My job? My family? My home? Hell! There are things against which any life project one can have done is fated to fade away, as moonlight when it comes sunlight. And my sunlight were - is - you, T'Pol."
T'Pol was listening, as if she were immersed in a cloud. In her mind, in her heart, she had said it to herself, that night, that he would have been willing to give up everything for her, and now she was learning from his own lips that it was just so, that her marvellous K'diwa had thought of doing it, and this, just while she had been thinking that he would be willing to do so.
"So, Vulcan. Sure. Your own homeworld, my new homeworld. It wouldn't be easy, but I... was tough." - Trip let out a giggle full of irony. Of bitter self-irony. T'Pol was perfectly able to sense it. – "Such, at least, I wanted to think that I was."
(*Tough? No, I do not think that this term is able to render not even a little bit what you really are, my so-said narrow-minded Ashayam. My immensely tough, big, strong Ashayam.*)
"And then, after all, I would have had your help."
(*All my help, T'hai'la. And all my Vulcan heart.*)
"Your help. Yeah. Sure. But would you be yet well accepted on your world, after the challenge you had thrown to the High Command? Couldn't you be regarded almost... almost as a rebel? And a rebel who had dared tie herself to a Human man, and dared to bring him - me - on her homeland as her life mate. No. Impossible. We couldn't live there."
The sadly ironic chuckle, was heard again. "Oh, I know, I know, Hon. No doubt, what I'm telling you of what I had thought, is making me looking like a damn fool. See a little, to what kind of idiot you have made a gift of yourself!"
(*So, not only far from being really tough, at least in your judgment, but also stupid, in addition! Oh sure, definitely! How stupid you are, my T'hai'la! But how could you think that what you thought was real? Stupid, stupid my Ashayam. Who had it all figured out! Just as the clever, smart, sensitive man that you are!*)
"Anyway, so I thought things were. So what? What could remain for us? Provided ... provided I wasn't grossly deceiving myself about your feelings towards me."
(*No! No no! You were not deceiving yourself at all, T'hai'la!*)
"Well, I thought, space is filled with lots of beautiful worlds; there must be one of them, where we can live our life and our love."
(*One mind, one soul. You and I this we are, Ashayam. I would never have believed - before tonight, before you told me about all this - that this were true up to this point.*)
Trip stopped for a moment, as if he were gathering his ideas. His voice sounded even more pensive when he spoke again.
"Could this be true, Hon? I mean, our eventual homeland, could it be a totally new homeland? I mean, not your true homeland or mine? Would it be possible for us to forget everything that we were and we could have been, I, on Earth, and you, of Vulcan, and… and…"
Trip stopped again. It seemed that he did not know how to continue, but T'Pol knew that it was not so. It was true, he was not a man of long speeches, but when he decided, he felt it was appropriate to speak, he spoke. And well. And for a long time, too, if it was the case.
And if now - right now - he'd stopped talking ... T'Pol knew exactly why.
So, she understood it was time also for her to speak.
She sat up and squatted sitting on the bed next to him.
She needed him to see her face clearly, while she was telling him what it had come the moment to say.
"Trip, tonight I have finally decided to make it clear to you that I can not do without you, that never ever I will be able to live without you. The... logic itself, if my heart was not enough, requires it."
Trip was absolutely quiet. Motionless. One could say inert. But his eyes, not. They were very alive. And extraordinarily attentive.
T'Pol stretched out her hand, as if she wanted to touch those eyes, but she stopped, as if she had not the courage to do so. How beautiful they were, those blue eyes, which watched her, in the anxious waiting to know what she would say!
"And you think that, against all logic, against ... this deepest feeling that I feel for you, could it be possible that I do not wish to give you children?"
Trip's hand snapped to grasp that of T'Pol. Her little, delicate hand got lost, happy, in the great, callous hand of Trip.
"I want to give you children, Ashayam."
"T'Pol ..."
"I do not know if this will ever be possible, although... although Lorian is ... was ... no, hopefully, he is still proof that this is possible. But, in any case, I want it, Trip. I want it with all my logic. And with all my heart."
Trip could not answer, could not flood T'Pol with all the powerful flow of unspeakable joy that T'Pol's words had unleashed within him.
The look, suddenly - unequivocally - sad of her, stopped him.
"But if I can not give you children, my T'hai'la, you ... you..."
Trip jumped to sit and clenched tightly to him his T'Pol, with all the strength of his love.
"I will always love you, T'Pol."
He heard her sigh, happy, hugged to him.
They stood so, embraced each other for a few moments. Trip then burst into laughter.
T'Pol reluctantly pulled away from him and looked at him, her eyebrow raised, in the expression: what the hell is wrong with you?
Trip laughed again and threw himself again lying on the bed, dragging her and holding her again embraced.
"Okay, okay, okay. But ultimately, babe, where the hell will we go to live, the two of us, when the time comes?"
T'Pol immediately adapted to the change of route of the tone of Trip. He was right. They had to find an answer and also avoid being overwhelmed by emotions. Strange it was him, not her, to try to tone down, to recall in his own way the two of them to the need to contain emotions, but in reality, it was not so strange. T'Pol now was well aware of the unexpected (for those who, meeting him for the first time, were primarily impressed by his character - how to say? - a wee bit exuberant) ability of control which he possessed, but there was something else which she had become aware of. It was as if it had been established between them a tacit agreement: when the intensity of the emotions she was feeling - and that Trip felt perfectly well that she was feeling - reached for what could be a dangerous level of alert, he, even saying nothing explicitly, was however as if was telling her: 'that's enough, danger, red alert , return to do the perfect Vulcan'.
It could be a witticism, a joke, a nonsense purposely said, or a sudden and unexpected laugh, an abrupt shift in the way he was acting and speaking, as now. Basically he was saying to her: 'hey, Hon, do the serious person, do the Vulcan. And be you to lead things exactly the way you should do', because he knew that this was her own good. As always he behaved in order to protect her, without embarrassing her. In the way that only he knew, he always protected her.
She settled down very well again in his arms. Okay, he wanted her to resume the leadership of the talk? Her - something that seemed a giggle burst out inside her - to do the serious person? Agreed. Go on, then. "Very well, T'hai'la, let's see a little. I think, first of all, we must think of our eventual children."
"Which means?"
"Whether we can have them or not, it is needed, however, that we have the most care of their good. We must care about their future. "
"Well, of course. So?"
"The place where we're going to live, has to be safe and comfortable for them."
"Obvious."
"We, in one way or another, will be able to adapt to a new planet, indeed it could be for us the best solution, but it would be right for them..."
"…put them in an environment so alien to us and, therefore, to them? That's what you mean?"
"Yes, Trip. The lack of knowledge and familiarity, generates dangers, and even more so if you think that they would be… new creatures."
"New… creatures!?"
"The first examples of something entirely new, the children of a Human male and ..."
"A Vulcan female."
"Yes, and therefore even more alien, more foreign, in the eyes of the world, than how we two might appear. And we both are well aware of the malice that people, wherever you are, often, if not always, destines to what, to whom…"
"…is foreign."
"Yes, Trip."
"Damn, Hon! We can't make such a choice!"
"No."
"No, absolutely no, Hon."
Well, one couldn't say that the reasoning of T'Pol were not absolutely wise and full of logic. On the other hand - Trip grinned to himself - when ever his sweetheart, could not make wise reasonings and devoid of logic? But there was something... Mh. Something was omitted.
T'Pol, to want a closer look, was an adventurous spirit and all one could say about her except that she was not able to deal with - and dominate - difficult situations, even so hard that no one else would be able to face and handle.
Guys! But she was the one who had dared to embark - alone, the only one of her kind - with a horde of primitive Humans, or, at least, that was what she thought of them at that time. And she had been perfectly able to tackle and dominate this horde. In fact, to tell the truth - the internal grin of Trip became accentuated not a little - she had also gone quite a bit further.
So what? How was it possible that she was afraid of not being able to manage the education of any of their children on a planet that was not ...
Suddenly, Trip realized.
A planet that was not Vulcan. Not Earth, no. But Vulcan. Of course, T'Pol would never have dared to tell him this, in fact she would never dare say it clearly even to herself, but that was the reason. Why? But because she was a Vulcan, special, as you like, but still a Vulcan.
She did not want their children to grow up and live on an alien world because ... because she wanted them to grow up and live on Vulcan. She was tied deeply to her homeworld. She was so, precisely, for the simple fact that she was Vulcan. Even if unconsciously, she could not think that the world where their children would grow up, couldn't be Vulcan.
She would never have made it clear to him, she could not risk appearing so unfair to him, but it was so.
And it was just that it was so, because, if she had not felt this desire, this need, she would no longer be a real, albeit special, Vulcan, and he, Trip, would never have forgiven himself that, because of him, she had changed to the point of no longer being an authentic Vulcan .
He loved her deeply for what she was. He could never love a T'Pol different from T'Pol.
What she said, almost timidly, just at that moment, made it clear to Trip that he had hit the mark.
"And then, T'hai'la, how could we educate our children, really, according to ..."
"Our traditions? You mean this, Hon?"
"Yes, Trip. Strong roots make the tree strong, Ashayam. I feel that it would be unfair not to transmit to them the teachings of our ancestors, the deep strength of our heritage, and, alone, in a foreign environment, we would not be able to do so."
Sweet, splendid, wonderful, Vulcan T'Pol! (*Okay, my love. You deserve this and more!*)
He hugged her strongly to him. He spoke with the most gleeful of voices. "As usual, Darling, you're not wrong. Okay. Vulcan then!"
T'Pol jumped to sit up and turned her face down toward him. The most incredulous of glances shone in her eyes. "Trip! I did not mean that!"
Trip laughed heartily and pulled her down on his chest. "But I do!"
T'Pol struggled to extricate herself from his embrace. She pulled herself up again. She looked at him half in disbelief half almost annoyed. "Trip, there is not only Vulcan and its history, its traditions. My roots. There are at stake also your roots. There is also Earth. Your homeworld. Your homeland!"
"My homeland, T'Pol?"
"Yes, Trip. Your ..."
And, at that point, T'Pol suddenly stopped.
It was hard for her to bear his look as she realized.
She remembered his words when, on returning from the Expanse, he had told her that he didn't know, after all, where to go. She had taken the opportunity to invite him to Vulcan without giving much to see that she wanted him to go there with her.
But at that time she didn't know everything there was to know about him. Now, yes.
Now she knew.
And she felt deeply guilty.
But Trip's eyes shone of cheerfulness again. He gazed at her with joy. "Darlin', you know. My homeland is you."
Just like that. It was the case to say: fortunately, just like that. Because he ... actually ... it was a non-homeland. He loved Earth and was even willing to die for it and for its sons, but beyond that ...
Probably, or, perhaps certainly, he would be willing to do the same for Vulcan, which, thinking well about it, he most likely loved more than Earth, because it had given to him T'Pol. And if Andoria had required it, he would answer to its call. He would answer to the call of any world that were threatened by war or injustice. But for the rest ...
He had never been able to have roots. His family ... honestly, it was nothing for him for .. for many reasons. The only one who had really counted for him had been ... had been his sister. Who was no longer there. And this, to think of it, had given the final, definitive cut to his weak roots. Friends? But had he really friends? Malcolm, probably, and - but it was really still the case? - John. And Oshi, maybe. Perhaps, in a sense, even Phlox. And Anna Hess? Perhaps, some way. But there, on Earth, he had no friends, or rather, true friends. It was easy for him to gain the sympathies of anyone with his exuberance, but what was his exuberance if not the reflection of his loneliness, which only T'Pol had been able to fill with her sublime presence? With the fulness of her love?
It was true, she had made him suffer, but only because she was defenceless and unprepared in the face of something that was outside of all she knew, that wasn't her quiet world. The effort that she had to do to take the plunge had been such that she had almost gotten lost. He knew it, even though he knew that she did not know that he knew, and only if she had found the courage to tell him what he knew, he - maybe, just maybe - would have told her that he knew. (3) This effort on her part was something that went beyond any possible debt of gratitude that he could ever think to extinguish towards her.
So what? Didn't she deserve whichever sacrifice on his part?
End then, actually, wanting to be perfectly honest, what was Earth for him? The place where he was born. Nothing more. He was a free spirit, he felt himself a citizen of the Universe. It had not been very difficult for him to leave everything behind, when he had embarked on Enterprise.
And he didn't... didn't feel he had a home that was not Enterprise. Then, when Enterprise could no longer be his home, why not think of his home as the home of the woman who had become everything for him? His landing land? His true home?
T'Pol was his home, his landing land. His landing place. And where she had been, he would have been at home.
And he said it to her. With force. With all the puissance of his love.
"Where you are, T'Pol, there it's my home."
T'Pol did not oppose the tears of joy that welled up, sudden, in her eyes.
"Ah, how would you say, baby? Extremely satisfactory."
T'Pol did not waste herself even to lift her eyebrow. She just restricted herself to a mere and quiet: "Exactly." However, it was true, all this was really extremely satisfactory, indeed even more than that. Perhaps it would be more correct to judge it, just like her T'hai'la would have done, simply wondrous.
The sun was already high, shining in the early morning sky and illuminating the sea with bright golden glares and their room with fresh light, through the window wide open on the day which was beginning.
As soon as Trip had seen the gleam of tears in T'Pol's eyes, he had decided that it was absolutely necessary for him to provide that those tears disappear, and she had found herself in complete agreement with him. Tears were something quite unbecoming for a Vulcan. Any means that would serve the purpose, was not only welcome, but entirely appropriate, in order to eliminate this unfortunate and un-Vulkan-like inconvenience. If then, the means to which to resort, had a great amount of… decidedly positive aspects, all the better.
The well-known search for perfection that Trip put into anything he had to undertake, in concert with the well-known perfectionism and the well-known fussiness that every Vulcan (and T'Pol was no exception) places in turn in the performance of their own tasks (especially if these tasks are pleasant), had made it so that it had been needed a suitable, and not brief, lapse of time for the eyes of T'Pol to come back satisfactorily dry.
The logical consequence of the quest for perfection of Trip, together with perfectionism and fussiness of T'Pol, not neglecting the fact that when they had returned to their hotel room it was already very late and the conversation that had led to the odious presence of tears in the eyes of T'Pol was rather of long duration, was that when both, after… several afterthoughts, had concurred that the eyes of T'Pol was sufficiently dry, the sun, from a not too scarce period of time, had already abandoned its bed to leave it to the moon.
"Bloody Hell, Malcolm would say! We need a corroborant breakfast! And... well, after all, we are in shore leave. A little healthy lust, it takes!"
So Trip had talked.
Then he had merrily barked over the intercom. "Room 602. Breakfast in bed. Strictly vegetarian, but extremely abundant. And with a lot of strong coffee and tea with chamomile. Oh, I forgot. Ten, no, twelve slices of pecan pie."
Ten minutes or so had passed, and both took care to make sure that the eyes of T'Pol were actually quite dry. Then a discreet knock at the door.
"YES?"
"Breakfast, sir."
"VERY WELL. LEAVE IT BEHIND THE DOOR. Mh, I think I see a tear yet. It takes a little more of work. Do you agree, babe? Yes? I was sure."
After a little more of intensive work, Trip finally had decided it was time to go to get the breakfast at the door.
"Okay, I think that your eyes are dry, finally. If it is necessary, we will return to work on this, shall we?"
T'Pol had nodded convinced.
"Alright, babe. Now, the breakfast."
Said and done. A leap, a somersault, and Trip, naked as a jaybird, had reached the door. He had opened it, just a crack. He had ascertained that there was no one outside. He had opened it completely, had stooped to pick up the tray, well-replete, that the waiter had left, had lifted the tray in his hands, had turned around, had closed the door with a flick of the heel.
Then, with the most buccaneerish of smiles on his face... "Okay, babe. Authentic Earth lust, now."
He had reached T'Pol, she too so naked that more one could not be, in bed. He had placed the tray on the bed next to them, as she had sat up, cross-legged, to make room for the tray and for him, who had now sat at her side, with his legs dangling.
And so she had had the opportunity to enjoy the pleasure of a luxurious veritable earth breakfast, in bed.
In a bed of love.
They had chatted - small babblings and slight and nice, babblings of sweethearts; had exchanged effusions - effusions of sweethearts. They had put in their mouths - to one another, reciprocally - pieces of pecan pie.
In an intimacy that filled their hearts.
As the sun slowly had risen and gone up, and its warm light and naughty had played with increasing immodesty on their naked bodies.
Until both, together, had reached the conclusion that it was enough, that they could consider themselves as decidedly satisfied.
And that it had been extremely satisfactory. Or better, how, without saying so, T'Pol had thought: simply wondrous.
Trip took the tray and placed it on the floor next to the bed, manoeuvring so that he had not to get up. He brushed the sheets with his hands, to sweep away the crumbs.
He watched for a moment the result of his efforts with a critical eye. Mh, not really clean, the bed, but - he shrugged his shoulders - so be it.
On the other hand - he looked sideways at the Vulcan half of himself - it seemed to him that she, at that particular juncture, didn't make any special exhibition of the well-known - and obsessive - mania for hygiene and for cleanliness that characterized her and those damned compatriots of hers.
Actually - Trip allowed himself a teasing smile - she seemed quite relaxed, in that predicament, or should he think that her having positioned herself supine on the bed, one leg upon the other, with her arms folded behind her nape, her head idly resting on them, just as he would have done, absolutely at ease, with a clear expression of satisfied quietness on her face, it could mean something other than a 'ah! How wonderful!' ?
Trip positioned himself on the bed beside her, taking exactly her same stand, and T'Pol, immediately rolled to curl very well against him. Well, Trip smiled to himself, it seemed that this particular position was decidedly to her liking. Whatever it was, frankly, he had no objection in this regard.
"All right, babe?"
No response. Only a very satisfied "Mh."
"Well, well. I'm happy. Okay, then, at this point, with the belly deliciously full, and with ... Well yes, I mean ... with ... I mean ..."
"Mh?"
"Darling, I think that at this point we can think to put the dots on the i."
"Mh. Mh?"
"Ah, sorry. I want to say set up the last details."
"Mh. Mh mh. Mh?"
"Let me explain."
"Mh."
"Let's summarize. We decided that on the day in which we will be sick of playing on Enterprise the role of simple colleagues in public and of lovers in private, we shall go away together, bag and baggage, from Enterprise, to be what we are, both in private and in public."
"Mh, yes."
"We also decided that, when the time comes, we will go to live on Vulcan. A bit too hot for my taste, to be honest, and with a few too many deserts, but undoubtedly full of beautiful and wild attractions. I will adapt."
"Trip..."
"C'mon, babe, c'mon, let us face it, you'll be much more at ease in the education of children, there."
"It is true. But what about you?"
"I will see to work to make sure that their human side won't be overlooked, and am I wrong, honey, if I think you're going to help me?"
"No, absolutely not, T'hai'la, but..."
"And then, Hon, if we are to judge by Lorian, it is very likely that our children will tend to be very Vulcan, even if being at the same time also Human. It would be unfair to deprive them of the advantages of being Vulcans in all respects."
"Yes, but..."
"Trip's voice dropped in tone, became serious. "Hon, it is not a matter of cultural superiority, but, that's a fact, your people have changed, are attempting to do so. With strength and determination, with suffering, after the political and cultural earthquake that shook your planet and all of you Vulcans as a result of the discovery of the deception perpetrated by your leaders and of the retrieving of the Summa of Surak's works, your people are trying to open themselves to others, to improve, and now there is perhaps a greater possibility that we may be accepted on Vulcan than on Earth, above all if you think that on Earth..."
T'Pol shook Trip's hand.
Trip drew a deep sigh.
"On Earth, Hon, and you too know it, it seems, thick shadows are gathering. A strong feeling of xenophobia is emerging, more vehement than in the past, as a result of what happened with the Xindi, and the indifference that your people has shown in this situation makes..."
"Makes my people – me - strongly disliked to ordinary people of Earth, and most likely not only ordinary, now more than in the past."
"Yes, Hon."
"Trip, this can also be true, but ..."
"I know my fellow men, T'Pol. I am one of them. Humans are a great people, but their emotions are intense and longer lasting, more than those of Vulcans in a sense. And they have no intention to control them, nor can they. Humans live together with their emotions, sometimes dominating them, sometimes being dominated by them. Many will love us and will want to protect us, but many, very many, will hate us and will want to..."
"Ostracize us?"
"At a minimum."
"At… a minimum?"
"At a minimum, Darlin', yes. And Humans are ingenious, T'Pol, and determined. Relentless. It is very hard to..."
"Arrest them, I know. This is your greatness."
"But it is also our curse."
"T'hai'la…"
"Oh, that's enough!" - Trip's voice crackled again of cheerfulness. A little forcibly, perhaps? – "But look a little! Definitely Humans are completely illogical, and, I'm sorry for you, my peppermint, I am the champion."
Peppermint. That's was new. "Glad you finally admit it, Ashayam. Evidently there really is some hope for you, thanks to my influence. But, in particular, to what are you referring, now?"
"Well, I hadn't a great esteem for Vulcans, and, you see, I fell in love with a Vulcan female. But, oh T'Pol, if you could see her! You would understand that it was not possible for me not to fall madly in love with her!"
T'Pol wasn't sure she managed to completely hide from her T'hai'la the fizzing of pleasure she had, at his joke.
"And then, as if this were not enough, I also agreed with this Vulcan witch to live with her on Vulcan, that infernal furnace of a desert planet, even defending this choice a little against her. If this is not illogical! A nice obstacle course, my life, do not you think?
"Obstacle course?"
"Forget it, Hon. Let's stop here."
T'Pol settled down even better, with fulfilled enjoyment, in the natural alcove of the arms of her Trip, very well against his muscular body, fragrant of his resistless scent.
"Okay, K'Diwa."
"No, there is one thing yet. The last detail. Far from negligible, however."
T'Pol looked up at the face of Trip, who, she realized, was in turn looking at her with a sly expression.
Now what? What had he in mind, that scallywag of her T'hai'la?
"Ten could be fine?"
T'Pol was not sure that she had understood, but perhaps she had understood even too well. "Ten… what?"
"But children, of course! What else, otherwise?"
"Ten… children?"
"Well, yes I know, they are not really a lot, but, you know, considering that the experience I had with my family has been not exactly agreeable, I think it's best that we limit ourselves a little."
Now T'Pol had her head well raised, and she was staring him in the face, trying to hide her uncertainty. She had to believe him or not?
"Trip, ten children are not few."
"No?"
"No. They are ... a little too much."
"Mh, yeah, maybe it's true. I forgot that Vulcan families have not many children. Nine? How about nine?"
"Trip, one or two may be enough."
"One or two?" - Trip's voice seemed horrified. He rolled his eyes. – "Let's not joke, T'Pol! At least eight!"
"Trip, I ... I'm not sure ..."
"That we can make it? Come on, T'Pol, do not underestimate yourself." - A mischievous glint in his eyes. – "And I do not think you can doubt me."
"Well no, no, of course." - But what was happening? Really she and Trip were discussing the number of their children? And he really wanted to ...? - "Let's make ... let's make two, Trip."
"Oh, what the heck. Seven!"
"Th ... three."
"Six."
"Four."
"Five"
"Ashayam..."
"Five. Not less. Do you concur?"
"I ... I do."
Then, suddenly, T'Pol realized. But what the heck! She didn't count?
She straightened sitting and looked sternly at Trip, her eyebrow dangerously raised.
"Trip."
"Yesss?
T'Pol sighed. When would she learn? She answered proudly, in a regurgitation of floundering Vulcan dignity. "Five. No more."
A radiant smile widened on Trip's mouth. "I will adapt."
T'Pol paused for a moment to look at the picaresque visage of her Ashayam. He was smiling, with the more puppy face one could imagine. No, she never would have learned, but, after all, it was so nice, that way.
Her features softened and she lay down again, very close to her Trip, practically attached to him.
However ... a small ... very small reprisal... even simply the pleasure to arouse his perplexity.
T'Pol dropped her words as if by chance. "Do you have something to replace the moustache that you lost?"
The puzzlement rang clearly in the answer of Trip, with T'Pol's great satisfaction. She couldn't deny it. "Well... I..."
He turned his head slightly to look at her, by askance. Now what? What the hell was whirling in that damn Vulcan brain? "Yes, babe. I have several substitutes."
Ha ha, so she had not deceived herself. There was really a nice little of narcissism in that desire that he had of decorating his face with a moustache, under the shield of having to hide who he was. "Well, that's good, but I do not think that such means will be sufficient."
"Sufficient?"
"Sufficient."
Trip turned fully to look well at T'Pol. His expression was guarded. "For what?"
"To really hide your identity whenever we will come to Earth."
"Whenever... But why T'Pol?"
T'Pol's voice resounded decidedly fluty. "We said five, right, Ashayam?"
"Well, yes. Five."
"Vulcan females have a few more fertility limitations than human women."
"Namely?"
"It is rather unlikely more than one child at a time may be born and the period of maximum fertility, as you know, occurs once every seven years."
"Mh, yeah."
"Even if this does not prevent at all that any relationships can deepen regardless of the septennial periodicity."
"I have noticed."
"Have you? Anyway, therefore, one child at a time, one child every seven years... if all goes well this means that to have five children, it will take for us at least thirty-five years."
"Thirty..."
"Thirty-five years."
"Damn!"
"Unless..."
"Unless what?"
"We do not undertake to create extremely favourable conditions for conception."
"For..."
"Yes, T'hai'la."
"How?"
Now the voice of T'Pol was not only fluty, it was honeyed. And that was an understatement. It sounded even sugary and Trip had learned the hard way that he had to be more than a little wary when T'Pol assumed that particular tone that only he could know. Poor man or lucky man, who knows?
"Not bad, huh, the bikini I have worn?"
"Eh? Sure, but..."
"Very... inspiring, I must say."
"Insp..."
"Yes. Definitely useful to evoke certain… favourable conditions."
"Ah."
"You know, it is demonstrated that there is a certain relation between adequate setting and..."
"The onset of certain favourable conditions?"
"Exactly, however, on Vulcan..."
Trip began to understand. He smiled mischievously. "However on Vulcan you just could not wear any bikini."
"No."
"A less chance for the onset of those favourable conditions."
"Undeniably, especially if the size of the bikini were particularly suited to the onset of these conditions. Of course, as you proved, you would not be very happy, if I were wearing again a bathing suit a little too scanty."
"I could adapt."
"I have no doubt."
"So, for our purposes, it would be appropriate that you may… how to say?... still enjoy the… freedom of… action of a tiny bikini."
"It could be."
"But on Vulcan, it would be impossible."
"Exactly, just as…"
"To swim."
"In the sea."
"Yeah, you could not."
"Which would be a shame, because I have found this experience, it too, very… stimulating."
"Well, judging from our… articulated conversation of this night, on the beach, by the sea, in the moonlight..."
"Here, that is precisely the point."
Yeah, that was precisely the point. It didn't take, for Trip, a great deal of science to figure it out by now, let alone to fully realize what it was the game of T'Pol, or, better said, the mischievous and delightful game of T'Pol, the mischievous and delightful game of that slyboots of a, just so about to say, hopelessly humourless and irreparably unromantic and irremediably unemotional Vulcan female.
God, how he loved his petite, wonderful Vulcan gal, full of public self-importance and of private passion for him, who enjoyed the pleasure of playing thus with him!
He played along with her game." The night or the beach or the sea or the moonlight?"
"The night and the beach and the sea and the moonlight."
Trip moved on the bed, crawling on the side on which he lay, so as to be able to move his face closer to that of T'Pol to such an extent that their noses could touch. "And in what order of preference?"
T'Pol spoke softly, on the mouth of Trip, brushing up her lips against his. "There is no particular order of preference, though if…"
T'Pol rested her lips on those of Trip and began to speak, alternating words and soft little kisses. Kiss – "… I…" – Kiss – "… really…" – kiss – "…had…" – Kiss – "… to…" – Kiss – "… fully…" - Kiss - "…express…" – Kiss – "…my…" – Kiss – "…idea..." – Kiss.
Kiss - "It..." - Kiss - "... would…" – Kiss – "…be?..." - Kiss.
T'Pol's eyes darted to look at the window, at the sun, shining in the blue sky. Yes, now the sun was shining, but later it would come down, would dive into the sea, to give back room for its nocturnal sister.
She brought back her eyes on her K'diwa, clung to him, kissed him. Softly and longly.
When she detached her lips from his, she looked at him with loving tenderness. She had learned a long time now not to be ashamed of, to enjoy, to rejoice in the warm emotions he evoked in her, the soft pulses of love he managed to make born in her, the gestures, the acts of love, that he succeeded in making her do. And the words, sincere, of love that he was capable of making come out of her heart, words that, inwardly, she had struggled so hard, had found so hard to say, and that now, finally, she was able to say, like those that she pulled out in one breath, in a low voice, her tone an octave lower than usual.
"My idea is to make love with you at night, every night of our shore leave and of any further shore leave we can enjoy and whenever in our future life on Vulcan I'll want to do it, on the beach, at seaside, at the sound of the surf, under the fairytale light of Earth's Moon.".
Trip kissed her in turn. Longly and softly. "Without bikini?"
She hid her smile in his mouth. "Without bikini."
"Buck naked?"
T'Pol replied kissing him again. "Buck naked."
"I could adapt.
T'Pol did not waste herself even to lift her eyebrow. She just restricted herself to a mere and quiet: "Exactly." However, it was true, all this was really extremely satisfactory, indeed even more than that. Perhaps it would be more correct to judge it, just like her T'hai'la would have done, simply wondrous.
The sun was already high, shining in the early morning sky and illuminating the sea with bright golden glares and their room with fresh light, through the window wide open on the day which was beginning.
As soon as Trip had seen the gleam of tears in T'Pol's eyes, he had decided that it was absolutely necessary for him to provide that those tears disappear, and she had found herself in complete agreement with him. Tears were something quite unbecoming for a Vulcan. Any means that would serve the purpose, was not only welcome, but entirely appropriate, in order to eliminate this unfortunate and un-Vulkan-like inconvenience. If then, the means to which to resort, had a great amount of… decidedly positive aspects, all the better.
The well-known search for perfection that Trip put into anything he had to undertake, in concert with the well-known perfectionism and the well-known fussiness that every Vulcan (and T'Pol was no exception) places in turn in the performance of their own tasks (especially if these tasks are pleasant), had made it so that it had been needed a suitable, and not brief, lapse of time for the eyes of T'Pol to come back satisfactorily dry.
The logical consequence of the quest for perfection of Trip, together with perfectionism and fussiness of T'Pol, not neglecting the fact that when they had returned to their hotel room it was already very late and the conversation that had led to the odious presence of tears in the eyes of T'Pol was rather of long duration, was that when both, after… several afterthoughts, had concurred that the eyes of T'Pol was sufficiently dry, the sun, from a not too scarce period of time, had already abandoned its bed to leave it to the moon.
"Bloody Hell, Malcolm would say! We need a corroborant breakfast! And... well, after all, we are in shore leave. A little healthy lust, it takes!"
So Trip had talked.
Then he had merrily barked over the intercom. "Room 602. Breakfast in bed. Strictly vegetarian, but extremely abundant. And with a lot of strong coffee and tea with chamomile. Oh, I forgot. Ten, no, twelve slices of pecan pie."
Ten minutes or so had passed, and both took care to make sure that the eyes of T'Pol were actually quite dry. Then a discreet knock at the door.
"YES?"
"Breakfast, sir."
"VERY WELL. LEAVE IT BEHIND THE DOOR. Mh, I think I see a tear yet. It takes a little more of work. Do you agree, babe? Yes? I was sure."
After a little more of intensive work, Trip finally had decided it was time to go to get the breakfast at the door.
"Okay, I think that your eyes are dry, finally. If it is necessary, we will return to work on this, shall we?"
T'Pol had nodded convinced.
"Alright, babe. Now, the breakfast."
Said and done. A leap, a somersault, and Trip, naked as a jaybird, had reached the door. He had opened it, just a crack. He had ascertained that there was no one outside. He had opened it completely, had stooped to pick up the tray, well-replete, that the waiter had left, had lifted the tray in his hands, had turned around, had closed the door with a flick of the heel.
Then, with the most buccaneerish of smiles on his face... "Okay, babe. Authentic Earth lust, now."
He had reached T'Pol, she too so naked that more one could not be, in bed. He had placed the tray on the bed next to them, as she had sat up, cross-legged, to make room for the tray and for him, who had now sat at her side, with his legs dangling.
And so she had had the opportunity to enjoy the pleasure of a luxurious veritable earth breakfast, in bed.
In a bed of love.
They had chatted - small babblings and slight and nice, babblings of sweethearts; had exchanged effusions - effusions of sweethearts. They had put in their mouths - to one another, reciprocally - pieces of pecan pie.
In an intimacy that filled their hearts.
As the sun slowly had risen and gone up, and its warm light and naughty had played with increasing immodesty on their naked bodies.
Until both, together, had reached the conclusion that it was enough, that they could consider themselves as decidedly satisfied.
And that it had been extremely satisfactory. Or better, how, without saying so, T'Pol had thought: simply wondrous.
Trip took the tray and placed it on the floor next to the bed, manoeuvring so that he had not to get up. He brushed the sheets with his hands, to sweep away the crumbs.
He watched for a moment the result of his efforts with a critical eye. Mh, not really clean, the bed, but - he shrugged his shoulders - so be it.
On the other hand - he looked sideways at the Vulcan half of himself - it seemed to him that she, at that particular juncture, didn't make any special exhibition of the well-known - and obsessive - mania for hygiene and for cleanliness that characterized her and those damned compatriots of hers.
Actually - Trip allowed himself a teasing smile - she seemed quite relaxed, in that predicament, or should he think that her having positioned herself supine on the bed, one leg upon the other, with her arms folded behind her nape, her head idly resting on them, just as he would have done, absolutely at ease, with a clear expression of satisfied quietness on her face, it could mean something other than a 'ah! How wonderful!' ?
Trip positioned himself on the bed beside her, taking exactly her same stand, and T'Pol, immediately rolled to curl very well against him. Well, Trip smiled to himself, it seemed that this particular position was decidedly to her liking. Whatever it was, frankly, he had no objection in this regard.
"All right, babe?"
No response. Only a very satisfied "Mh."
"Well, well. I'm happy. Okay, then, at this point, with the belly deliciously full, and with ... Well yes, I mean ... with ... I mean ..."
"Mh?"
"Darling, I think that at this point we can think to put the dots on the i."
"Mh. Mh?"
"Ah, sorry. I want to say set up the last details."
"Mh. Mh mh. Mh?"
"Let me explain."
"Mh."
"Let's summarize. We decided that on the day in which we will be sick of playing on Enterprise the role of simple colleagues in public and of lovers in private, we shall go away together, bag and baggage, from Enterprise, to be what we are, both in private and in public."
"Mh, yes."
"We also decided that, when the time comes, we will go to live on Vulcan. A bit too hot for my taste, to be honest, and with a few too many deserts, but undoubtedly full of beautiful and wild attractions. I will adapt."
"Trip..."
"C'mon, babe, c'mon, let us face it, you'll be much more at ease in the education of children, there."
"It is true. But what about you?"
"I will see to work to make sure that their human side won't be overlooked, and am I wrong, honey, if I think you're going to help me?"
"No, absolutely not, T'hai'la, but..."
"And then, Hon, if we are to judge by Lorian, it is very likely that our children will tend to be very Vulcan, even if being at the same time also Human. It would be unfair to deprive them of the advantages of being Vulcans in all respects."
"Yes, but..."
"Trip's voice dropped in tone, became serious. "Hon, it is not a matter of cultural superiority, but, that's a fact, your people have changed, are attempting to do so. With strength and determination, with suffering, after the political and cultural earthquake that shook your planet and all of you Vulcans as a result of the discovery of the deception perpetrated by your leaders and of the retrieving of the Summa of Surak's works, your people are trying to open themselves to others, to improve, and now there is perhaps a greater possibility that we may be accepted on Vulcan than on Earth, above all if you think that on Earth..."
T'Pol shook Trip's hand.
Trip drew a deep sigh.
"On Earth, Hon, and you too know it, it seems, thick shadows are gathering. A strong feeling of xenophobia is emerging, more vehement than in the past, as a result of what happened with the Xindi, and the indifference that your people has shown in this situation makes..."
"Makes my people – me - strongly disliked to ordinary people of Earth, and most likely not only ordinary, now more than in the past."
"Yes, Hon."
"Trip, this can also be true, but ..."
"I know my fellow men, T'Pol. I am one of them. Humans are a great people, but their emotions are intense and longer lasting, more than those of Vulcans in a sense. And they have no intention to control them, nor can they. Humans live together with their emotions, sometimes dominating them, sometimes being dominated by them. Many will love us and will want to protect us, but many, very many, will hate us and will want to..."
"Ostracize us?"
"At a minimum."
"At… a minimum?"
"At a minimum, Darlin', yes. And Humans are ingenious, T'Pol, and determined. Relentless. It is very hard to..."
"Arrest them, I know. This is your greatness."
"But it is also our curse."
"T'hai'la…"
"Oh, that's enough!" - Trip's voice crackled again of cheerfulness. A little forcibly, perhaps? – "But look a little! Definitely Humans are completely illogical, and, I'm sorry for you, my peppermint, I am the champion."
Peppermint. That's was new. "Glad you finally admit it, Ashayam. Evidently there really is some hope for you, thanks to my influence. But, in particular, to what are you referring, now?"
"Well, I hadn't a great esteem for Vulcans, and, you see, I fell in love with a Vulcan female. But, oh T'Pol, if you could see her! You would understand that it was not possible for me not to fall madly in love with her!"
T'Pol wasn't sure she managed to completely hide from her T'hai'la the fizzing of pleasure she had, at his joke.
"And then, as if this were not enough, I also agreed with this Vulcan witch to live with her on Vulcan, that infernal furnace of a desert planet, even defending this choice a little against her. If this is not illogical! A nice obstacle course, my life, do not you think?
"Obstacle course?"
"Forget it, Hon. Let's stop here."
T'Pol settled down even better, with fulfilled enjoyment, in the natural alcove of the arms of her Trip, very well against his muscular body, fragrant of his resistless scent.
"Okay, K'Diwa."
"No, there is one thing yet. The last detail. Far from negligible, however."
T'Pol looked up at the face of Trip, who, she realized, was in turn looking at her with a sly expression.
Now what? What had he in mind, that scallywag of her T'hai'la?
"Ten could be fine?"
T'Pol was not sure that she had understood, but perhaps she had understood even too well. "Ten… what?"
"But children, of course! What else, otherwise?"
"Ten… children?"
"Well, yes I know, they are not really a lot, but, you know, considering that the experience I had with my family has been not exactly agreeable, I think it's best that we limit ourselves a little."
Now T'Pol had her head well raised, and she was staring him in the face, trying to hide her uncertainty. She had to believe him or not?
"Trip, ten children are not few."
"No?"
"No. They are ... a little too much."
"Mh, yeah, maybe it's true. I forgot that Vulcan families have not many children. Nine? How about nine?"
"Trip, one or two may be enough."
"One or two?" - Trip's voice seemed horrified. He rolled his eyes. – "Let's not joke, T'Pol! At least eight!"
"Trip, I ... I'm not sure ..."
"That we can make it? Come on, T'Pol, do not underestimate yourself." - A mischievous glint in his eyes. – "And I do not think you can doubt me."
"Well no, no, of course." - But what was happening? Really she and Trip were discussing the number of their children? And he really wanted to ...? - "Let's make ... let's make two, Trip."
"Oh, what the heck. Seven!"
"Th ... three."
"Six."
"Four."
"Five"
"Ashayam..."
"Five. Not less. Do you concur?"
"I ... I do."
Then, suddenly, T'Pol realized. But what the heck! She didn't count?
She straightened sitting and looked sternly at Trip, her eyebrow dangerously raised.
"Trip."
"Yesss?
T'Pol sighed. When would she learn? She answered proudly, in a regurgitation of floundering Vulcan dignity. "Five. No more."
A radiant smile widened on Trip's mouth. "I will adapt."
T'Pol paused for a moment to look at the picaresque visage of her Ashayam. He was smiling, with the more puppy face one could imagine. No, she never would have learned, but, after all, it was so nice, that way.
Her features softened and she lay down again, very close to her Trip, practically attached to him.
However ... a small ... very small reprisal... even simply the pleasure to arouse his perplexity.
T'Pol dropped her words as if by chance. "Do you have something to replace the moustache that you lost?"
The puzzlement rang clearly in the answer of Trip, with T'Pol's great satisfaction. She couldn't deny it. "Well... I..."
He turned his head slightly to look at her, by askance. Now what? What the hell was whirling in that damn Vulcan brain? "Yes, babe. I have several substitutes."
Ha ha, so she had not deceived herself. There was really a nice little of narcissism in that desire that he had of decorating his face with a moustache, under the shield of having to hide who he was. "Well, that's good, but I do not think that such means will be sufficient."
"Sufficient?"
"Sufficient."
Trip turned fully to look well at T'Pol. His expression was guarded. "For what?"
"To really hide your identity whenever we will come to Earth."
"Whenever... But why T'Pol?"
T'Pol's voice resounded decidedly fluty. "We said five, right, Ashayam?"
"Well, yes. Five."
"Vulcan females have a few more fertility limitations than human women."
"Namely?"
"It is rather unlikely more than one child at a time may be born and the period of maximum fertility, as you know, occurs once every seven years."
"Mh, yeah."
"Even if this does not prevent at all that any relationships can deepen regardless of the septennial periodicity."
"I have noticed."
"Have you? Anyway, therefore, one child at a time, one child every seven years... if all goes well this means that to have five children, it will take for us at least thirty-five years."
"Thirty..."
"Thirty-five years."
"Damn!"
"Unless..."
"Unless what?"
"We do not undertake to create extremely favourable conditions for conception."
"For..."
"Yes, T'hai'la."
"How?"
Now the voice of T'Pol was not only fluty, it was honeyed. And that was an understatement. It sounded even sugary and Trip had learned the hard way that he had to be more than a little wary when T'Pol assumed that particular tone that only he could know. Poor man or lucky man, who knows?
"Not bad, huh, the bikini I have worn?"
"Eh? Sure, but..."
"Very... inspiring, I must say."
"Insp..."
"Yes. Definitely useful to evoke certain… favourable conditions."
"Ah."
"You know, it is demonstrated that there is a certain relation between adequate setting and..."
"The onset of certain favourable conditions?"
"Exactly, however, on Vulcan..."
Trip began to understand. He smiled mischievously. "However on Vulcan you just could not wear any bikini."
"No."
"A less chance for the onset of those favourable conditions."
"Undeniably, especially if the size of the bikini were particularly suited to the onset of these conditions. Of course, as you proved, you would not be very happy, if I were wearing again a bathing suit a little too scanty."
"I could adapt."
"I have no doubt."
"So, for our purposes, it would be appropriate that you may… how to say?... still enjoy the… freedom of… action of a tiny bikini."
"It could be."
"But on Vulcan, it would be impossible."
"Exactly, just as…"
"To swim."
"In the sea."
"Yeah, you could not."
"Which would be a shame, because I have found this experience, it too, very… stimulating."
"Well, judging from our… articulated conversation of this night, on the beach, by the sea, in the moonlight..."
"Here, that is precisely the point."
Yeah, that was precisely the point. It didn't take, for Trip, a great deal of science to figure it out by now, let alone to fully realize what it was the game of T'Pol, or, better said, the mischievous and delightful game of T'Pol, the mischievous and delightful game of that slyboots of a, just so about to say, hopelessly humourless and irreparably unromantic and irremediably unemotional Vulcan female.
God, how he loved his petite, wonderful Vulcan gal, full of public self-importance and of private passion for him, who enjoyed the pleasure of playing thus with him!
He played along with her game." The night or the beach or the sea or the moonlight?"
"The night and the beach and the sea and the moonlight."
Trip moved on the bed, crawling on the side on which he lay, so as to be able to move his face closer to that of T'Pol to such an extent that their noses could touch. "And in what order of preference?"
T'Pol spoke softly, on the mouth of Trip, brushing up her lips against his. "There is no particular order of preference, though if…"
T'Pol rested her lips on those of Trip and began to speak, alternating words and soft little kisses. Kiss – "… I…" – Kiss – "… really…" – kiss – "…had…" – Kiss – "… to…" – Kiss – "… fully…" - Kiss - "…express…" – Kiss – "…my…" – Kiss – "…idea..." – Kiss.
Kiss - "It..." - Kiss - "... would…" – Kiss – "…be?..." - Kiss.
T'Pol's eyes darted to look at the window, at the sun, shining in the blue sky. Yes, now the sun was shining, but later it would come down, would dive into the sea, to give back room for its nocturnal sister.
She brought back her eyes on her K'diwa, clung to him, kissed him. Softly and longly.
When she detached her lips from his, she looked at him with loving tenderness. She had learned a long time now not to be ashamed of, to enjoy, to rejoice in the warm emotions he evoked in her, the soft pulses of love he managed to make born in her, the gestures, the acts of love, that he succeeded in making her do. And the words, sincere, of love that he was capable of making come out of her heart, words that, inwardly, she had struggled so hard, had found so hard to say, and that now, finally, she was able to say, like those that she pulled out in one breath, in a low voice, her tone an octave lower than usual.
"My idea is to make love with you at night, every night of our shore leave and of any further shore leave we can enjoy and whenever in our future life on Vulcan I'll want to do it, on the beach, at seaside, at the sound of the surf, under the fairytale light of Earth's Moon.".
Trip kissed her in turn. Longly and softly. "Without bikini?"
She hid her smile in his mouth. "Without bikini."
"Buck naked?"
T'Pol replied kissing him again. "Buck naked."
"I could adapt.
oooooooooooooooooooo
Up there, in high, in the blue sky, the sun hid himself, a little embarrassed, behind a cloud. He looked down. There she was. As usual she was still awake, was tarrying, still uncertain between sleep and waking, that night wanderer! "Sister, sister, hey!"
The moon replied sleepily and slightly irked. "What is it?"
"Try to rest well." From the midst of his shining splendour, the sun's eyes winked slyly down, toward a hotel by the sea, toward a window, wide open in his bright light. "Tonight and sure as hell for a lot of nights yet, there will be lot of work for you."
From under the sea the moon peeked at that window, into the room that widened out behind its gaping panes.
The moon watched, saw, recognized. Realized.
The moon smiled. "I will adapt."
The moon replied sleepily and slightly irked. "What is it?"
"Try to rest well." From the midst of his shining splendour, the sun's eyes winked slyly down, toward a hotel by the sea, toward a window, wide open in his bright light. "Tonight and sure as hell for a lot of nights yet, there will be lot of work for you."
From under the sea the moon peeked at that window, into the room that widened out behind its gaping panes.
The moon watched, saw, recognized. Realized.
The moon smiled. "I will adapt."
The End
_______________________________________________________________
Well, what do you think, my friends? A true poet, my ancestor, wasn't he? Those last lines, about the sun, the moon ... they are his, written by his own hand.
But ... well, but, somehow, they seem - who knows, maybe they are - damn true.
Yes.
And T'Pol knows it.
But ... well, but, somehow, they seem - who knows, maybe they are - damn true.
Yes.
And T'Pol knows it.
Oh, how much she indeed knows it!
Oh, I beg you to excuse my pedantry, however, in the text that you have - I hope - just read, there are some things, some hints, that I think deserve some explanation.
So, here it is. Look no further.
(1) You must read "Shore Leave", to understand this.
(2)You must read "Depths", to understand this, on TriaxianSilk or on my site, Plomeek Soup and Pecan Pie
(3) This refers to something that is still being processed. The title, which I thought is "Similitudes." And something tells me that you will find it quite interesting.
So, here it is. Look no further.
(1) You must read "Shore Leave", to understand this.
(2)You must read "Depths", to understand this, on TriaxianSilk or on my site, Plomeek Soup and Pecan Pie
(3) This refers to something that is still being processed. The title, which I thought is "Similitudes." And something tells me that you will find it quite interesting.