T’Pol’s Garden: Missing Scene from Vulcan for ‘Intimate’ – Chapter 4

By Elessar

Rating: G

Genres: missing scene


This story has been read by 379 people.
This story has been read 508 times.

Author: John O.

Rating: G
Disclaimer: Paramount owns Star Trek characters/names/fans’ souls/etc. I call shenanigans.

AN: This is supposed to be the story, or one of the stories, T’Pol may have told Trip about her childhood, but told from a third person point of view. Just assume all the dialog is in Vulcan. Single words that appear alone in Vulcan indicate a cultural meaning or significance that would be lost in translation.

Sixty Years Ago

“Papa’s home, papa’s home!”

T’Les turned from pruning the tirnuk on the far side of the garden to see her husband climbing the final stair to the front of their home. He crossed the archway that crowned the threshold from the rock Vulcan soil outside their property to the fertile ground of the gardens. T’Les frowned at her daughter’s behavior and set her clippers down as she approached the pair to admonish her daughter’s outburst. And that illogical Earth-name.

A man was revealed behind Sovek as he turned to one side and T’Les regarded him from the distance with guarded distrust. She watched as her four year old daughter went scampering up to her father, harms stretched out wide. The girl’s fair brown hair and abnormally expressive tendencies were clearly derived from her father.

Sovek fell from his usually large stature to catch his daughter just as she came crashing into him, nearly knocking the middle-aged Vulcan off his balance. It was enough to turn his already upturned lips into almost a full smile. His restraint held as his wife approached with a look of mild reproach while the colleague behind him looked on with poorly hidden disgust. His daughter smiled as she hugged him but when the man behind her father came into view, she gasped in exaggerated fear and her cheeks turned pale. Sovek patted her helmet-cut chestnut brown hair and looked up at his wife.

“It is agreeable to see you,” he told her, mustering an even and emotionless voice. She nodded and saluted his company with her fingers wide. T’Pol pulled herself from her father’s chest, the momentary fear of the man behind him forgotten as she turned back to her mother with a look of sheer glee. A tiny smile begged on Sovek’s lips, withheld only by the recollection of his company. His colleague, an older Vulcan with severe eyes glared disapprovingly at the openness of affection their daughter showed and her clear lack of emotional discipline. The young children on Vulcan were less stoic than their parents until undergoing formal training in their teenage years, but T’Pol was more expressive than most. Her father often proved ineffectual at discouraging such behavior, though in truth the fault of her behavior was his.

He set her down and looked into her brown eyes with a smile in his eyes, though his lips became flat and impassive. Sovek rose and turned to his colleague, who still glared at the raucous child. For an instant Sovek’s eyes became harder and his jaw became rigid. As if by mention, his colleague, V’Las, turned to him.

“Good day, Councilor V’Las,” Sovek bid the man a short farewell with a slight edge. V’Las nodded, turning a sharp eye on T’Les for an instant as he turned and walked from their home.

“T’Pol, you are aware that is an unacceptable way to greet your father,” T’Les admonished the young girl. She looked up at her mother’s dark eyes, the mirror of her own, and cast her gaze down to the red brick beneath her feet.

“I know…” she muttered guiltily. Her father came to her rescue as T’Les regarded her severely

“T’Pol, why don’t you go inside and begin preparing the mid-day meal? I know how you enjoy peeling the kasa, and if your mother consents,” he peered down at T’Les with a hint of pleading.

“Perhaps we will take Tikosh for a walk through the Round Hills after the meal?” T’Les blinked but before she could respond, the girl’s smile exploded from her lips. Her trim brown hair fluttering behind her, she made a run for the kitchen door with her robes slinking about her tiny feet. The tiny girl turned to grin at her mother as she neared the house and she tripped as the robe fell underfoot. She collapsed forward, splitting her lip on the edge of the walkway leading into the home. T’Les gasped, losing most of her carefully constructed reserve and hurriedly moved to her daughter’s side. Sovek followed close behind. A smudge of green blood and gravel peppered the girl’s lip, her eyes watering but withholding their tears. T’Les came to her side, sensing the child’s safety through their empathic connection. She watched proudly as T’Pol wiped her lip with professional detachment and straightened her robes, endeavoring to mimic the discipline with which she was taught to treat injury and pain.

“Are you unhurt, mi-kan? ” her father asked, instinctively. She nodded proudly, pulling a large clump of the satin robes into her face to wipe her eyes. T’Les frowned at the use of her robes as a tissue but did not rebuke her. She stroked the child’s hair before gently squeezing T’Pol’s shoulders and turning to her husband. T’Pol turned and ran into the house with equal vigor as before, her injury long forgotten.

T’Les sighed as if a great weight had been lifted but her face showed only displeasure as she paced towards the large fountain that lie in the center of the large, botanical garden. Her husband followed silently, folding his hands within his robes. He approached her cautiously; unsure of the trouble he was in this time. She often disapproved of his leniency with T’Pol, allowing her to act on her emotions openly with him. He did not allow it when they were in public or with guests (save this afternoon’s incident), however, T’Les knew that a pattern of behavior was easy to establish and difficult to break. When she turned to confront him, Sovek was sure he was to face another scolding for his encouragement of T’Pol’s emotional expressionism.

“You were supposed to be home last week,” T’Les said, turning finally to face him. Her face was impassive but Sovek read the features that only a bondmate could. Her eyes softened as he approached and their fingers met. The gesture was deceptively reticent, waves of emotion flowing empathically from one to the other. Only in this sanctioned, secret way could T’Les confront the powerful attraction she still had for Sovek after three decades of marriage.

After several moments she let her fingers fall away from his and paced away from him, keeping her eyes from him as she must to maintain the strength of will to scold her husband.

“You spend too much time on Earth,” she said distantly, turning her eyes towards the house. He turned to face her but she continued to avoid his face.

“It is my job,” he replied defensively, tilting his head. She looked up doubtfully at him.

“You grow too much like them. Others have seen it as well; your colleagues at the Ministry will not tolerate it. Counselor V’Las may be reporting you at this very moment for T’Pol’s behavior. Your fascination with humanity is illogical, and it is affecting our daughter. You treat her like a human child, and she is beginning to act like one!” T’Les replied, her voice quivering with shaky control as she angered. He approached to consol her and her face hardened as if to resist.

“It will only be more difficult for her to master control of her emotions when her training begins. As you know it must,” she insisted, as if it were not the first time she had done so.

“T’Les, ashayam, I care deeply for our daughter, as you do, and I will not hide that. Regardless of what the Ministry thinks, I must be true to myself and my family.” He replied with a hint of reluctance.


The red soil beneath their feet lightened as they approached the valley. The sun-swept sand of the Round Hills, unprotected by the shadow of rock shielding their approach, blazed hot yellow under the Vulcan sun. T’Les wore thin, light orange robes with darker red sashes and inner layers. Sovek wore a traditional male Vulcan robe: gold outer layers and inner clothes the color of the typical dusty orange sky. T’Pol ran ahead of her parents who strolled slowly at each other’s side. The short-haired girl chased Tikosh her young, pet Sehlat as she bounded up the dunes. Tikosh was the great grand-daughter of Sovek’s pet Sehlat when he was a child. When domesticated, as the creatures in Tikosh’s family line had been for many generations, were fiercely loyal and protective creatures. Sovek and T’Les often entrusted Tikosh with T’Pol’s life and let her play outside their isolated home together often. Wild sehlats were under control in most areas of the planet by tagging and satellite tracking to ensure the dangerous creatures did not attack people. However, Sovek and T’Les’ home lie outside the populated areas and at times, pilgrims and travelers were attacked by wild sehlat packs in such isolated areas.

When Tikosh tired of T’Pol’s endless chasing and capturing of her beloved pet, she fell back to trot side-by-side with Sovek who glanced down at the creature appreciatively. T’Pol followed moments later, circling her father who watched her from the corner of his sparkling eyes. She inserted herself between the two parents, mimicking their stoic appearance as she folded her fingers at the front of her robes, hoping to please her mother.

“Pa… Father, tell us about Earth again. Do the humans really have white hair? ” T’Pol asked professionally, as if she spoke on behalf of her mother as well – whose curious and displeased eyes followed her daughter. Sovek glanced at T’Les then at T’Pol.

“Yes, mi-kan. Many humans have a color of hair they call ‘blonde’. Do you not wish to know more of the Earth? Its blue sky, frigid northern climates, oceans, massive bodies of water containing countless thousands of organisms not found on Vulcan; as well as tropical rainforests unlike anything on our planet?” T’Pol wrinkled her brow curiously then turned to Sovek honestly.

“No, Father, I am more curious of the humans themselves,” she remarked as her mother had strained to teach her, with professional intonation. Sovek found T’Les’ displeased gaze on him again, as if to confirm her worst fears of Sovek’s influence on T’Pol.

“Professor Solkar says they do not harness emotions as we do. He says they are dangerous,” T’Pol recited her grandfather’s words.

“They are different from us, mi-kan. They do not suppress emotion, but rather embrace it. It has lead to great suffering and injustice in their planet’s history, much like the days of Surak. They recently suffered a great War that caused great loss of life,” he remarked solemnly. T’Pol looked up with sorrowful eyes, as if she felt grief for the humans rather than disgust. Pain like that which lurked still in the hearts of so many humans who lost loved ones in the Great War, sixteen light-years from the young Vulcan.

“And now? If they still war with one another, why do you go there? Are they dangerous?”

T’Les looked up in curiosity as her husband carefully formulated a response.

“They have built ships capable of interstellar travel, as Vulcan has. They have successfully made peace and unified previously warring nation-states. They live in peace now, so short a time after a great war.”

“But how can this be, Father? I thought Vulcans fought each other for hundreds of years after Surak taught logic to us.”

“Indeed we did, mi-kan. The humans show a perseverant spirit we Vulcans do not completely possess. They are a truly fascinating species,” he replied, looking down at her. She furrowed her young brow most curiously before turning back to her father.

“I believe I will visit there one day. I would like to meet one of these… ‘blonde’ humans,” she declared precociously. Sovek fought back the smile on his lips, in stark contrast to T’Les’ very displeased and disapproving frown.



This is  wonderful example of what I always think of as 'failure to translate' syndrome. They're both right; they're both wrong, and both are too stubborn to challenge their preconceptions.  Maybe they needed the disaster that followed to start to see why they might want to - and how to do that. 

Trip metaphorically all over her makes me laugh!


Okay, so this was my favourite line of this chapter:

"She blinked. A stick up her ass? Mr. Tucker's vast collection of colloquialisms sometimes made her wish she had Ensign Sato with her to translate their conversations."

Until I read this one:

"It was, for example, unlikely to affect this particular mission in the slightest."

Oh T'Pol, famous last words, love. Once again, another great chapter. What I love about this series is the way you nail down their bickering and verbal thrust and parry. This chapter is a classic example - its so easy to visualise how these exchanges could happe in the show, I can almost see T'Pol's raised eyebrow and Trip's tongued cheek!


First her ass, now her nose. Metaphorically, the man was all over her.


Best.  Passage.  Ever.


LOL, "unlikely to affect this particular mission in the slightest" my ASS, T'Pol! :p

I like how we are actually seeing thoughtful and sensical arguments between Trip and T'Pol.  There is plenty of material for the Beebs to have conscientiously had Trip and T'Pol rationally disagree on issues like this but all they did in the show as have them bicker over stupid minutiae.  I like this much better because it shows how there are very legitimate differences between how they do things.  They will both have serious cultural barriers to overcome to become friends and ultimately lovers... and I like how we are seeing the real trench-work at this point.  this is the very beginning when the biggest preconceptions are being faced.


This is one my favorite of your "lost scenes" - it really enhances the episode - and seems to fit right in. Bravo!


Go Trip!!!  Uppity Vulcan Female.  Just kidding.

Often wondered how Trip really felt by being bumped out of his FO position.

Lovely story.


T'Pol at this point would be truly surprised at how efficient Trip's staff would be in an emergency.  You have T'Pol stumbling over "colorful metaphors" just as much as Spock, LOL.d    


Great stuff!!


Perhaps the series may have lasted longer if some fan fic writers had been on staff. Your work has a maturity and depth in both character development and plot lines. The descriptive 'fluff" in between is loads of fun to read. This showed incedible insight into what must have been a very rocky mission start. Thanks 


Friends for Vulcan problably have another meaning then the casual use the Humans on Enterprise are using. So T'Pols POV is understandable, but also Trips response. T'Pols remark comes across as rude. I really like that underneath it doesn't sit well with T'Pol that Trip is ignoring her. Great chapter.


I'm just going to have to keep repeating myself. It's perfect. Your stories are like lost episodes. I feel like I've found a section on the DVDs that I inexplicably never watched before. (Maybe I had to run the the bathroom and forgot to go back to the part where I left off) ;)

T'Pol is really wonderful. All her ethnographic observations. The fact that she is hurt at being snubbed, but won't allow herself to frame it this way.

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