Rating: PG
Genres: romance
Keywords: character death
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CHARACTERS: Trip/T'Pol
GENRE: Romance
RATING: PG, for a sorta mature theme.
SUMMARY: T'Pol becomes introspective over her life with Trip
WARNING: Character death
DISCLAIMER: Enterprise and its characters are the property of CBS/Paramount. No copyright infringement is intended; this is a labor of love for a show that is with us in repeats only. Just doing my part to keep the dream alive, so please don't sue me.
A/N: Response to March "nature" prompt. Also, this is a companion piece to Running Out of Time, set approximately thirty years after that story.
He sleeps so much now. I have not left this room in nearly two weeks. I spend my time meditating, sitting vigil, and holding him in my arms as I lie beside him.
He will leave me soon.
We are born. We live. We die. That is the nature of things. It's orderly. It's logical.
Acceptance of this makes it no less painful.
I am Vulcan. I am supposed to deny my pain, not indulge it. But I do indulge it...because of everything else this man has inspired me to indulge in.
Love. Happiness. Hope. Passion.
We almost had none of it.
At the risk of my own destruction, I sought emotion. I wanted more of what I felt when he looked at me, talked to me. I came to crave his touch. I did dangerous things to get more and more. I became lost, and it all very nearly took me over.
And I pushed him away.
My actions have left me permanently altered. I no longer process and repress my emotions like a Vulcan. I also do not experience them as Humans do. I must constantly struggle to find my own way to logic and order. It has become easier over time, but by no means is it easy.
Eventually, through Trip's patience and devotion, I was able to strike a balance. My future self told me her Trip had done this for her, that my Trip could likewise do the same for me. All I had to do was let him in.
That T'Pol lost her Trip after less than twenty years of marriage. The severance of their bond very nearly killed her. She had to carry on for more than a century without him.
I could not bear such a thing, so again I pushed him away. Sometimes he pushed back. It was just as well, or so I thought. I had duty and family to occupy me. The balance I sought eluded me a while longer.
I have never believed in superstitious concepts such as luck or fate, but Trip does. He has argued that our telepathic bond is evidence that we were destined to be together. When the distance we put between us became too great, and everything that we ever had with each other was in danger of being extinguished forever, it was there to pull us back together.
Whether due to Human luck or Vulcan physiology, I soon realized the futility of resisting what I knew to be true: there was no one I would rather be with than Trip.
Soon the distance between us will become insurmountable, and I wonder if the bond will again force that distance to close.
I carefully protect this thought. Trip would become angry if he knew. He expects me to go on, to live a full and happy life after he's gone.
Assuming the severance of our bond does not kill me or drive me mad, I will go on. I have no alternative. I will carry out my roles as mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother; as scientist, diplomat, and peacemaker. I will live my life, but "full" and "happy" are out of the question without my ashayam to share it with.
And it is with this in mind that, rather than keeping our bond weak to spare us the inevitable pain as I thought best in the beginning, I have spent more than half a century encouraging our bond to become as strong as possible. Vulcan lifetimes are twice those of Humans; though there are no guarantees, we knew I was likely to outlive Trip by a hundred years. He calls what we have "once in a lifetime," and I agree.
And that is why I cannot bear to spend the rest of my life without him.
Our marriage came at a price. It nearly cost us our careers, as well as our lives on several occasions. There was a younger, more progressive government in place on my world at the time, yet I found myself shunned by my own people for choosing to mate outside my species, our union regarded as an obscenity and our offspring considered a crime against nature. I cannot return to a world that reserves its "enlightenment" for its own people. My Vulcan blood is tainted as far as they are concerned, despite the fact theirs is being poisoned by prejudice.
I miss my birthplace, my culture; I occasionally become what Trip calls "homesick." I have property there, a house that sits empty since my mother died.
But I have no home on my home world.
Mother. She warned me that our children would live in shame. Trip and I did our best to raise them to accept themselves for who and what they are, to be self-assured and to be proud of both their Vulcan and Human heritages.
The irony is not lost on me, encouraging my children to embrace a world that does not embrace them in return.
It was most difficult of all when they were school age. Though both our careers had us living in communities where we were usually regarded with curious tolerance, largely among academics and other Starfleet personnel, children can be so cruel. Raising ours in the traditional Vulcan way may have spared them broken hearts and damaged egos, but Trip and I agreed they must be exposed to both ways of life then allowed to find their own way. I confess that at these times I often felt inadequate as a mother, raising children who had so much access to such a range of emotions. Vulcan mothers aren't trained to soothe heartaches and disappointments, though I've endured a few of my own, and I drew upon that experience whenever necessary.
Never have I been more grateful for their father's uniquely Human perspective. He always knew what to say when I did not. Our children could not have had a better father. I cannot imagine persevering without him.
I have occasionally contemplated how my counterpart in the alternate timeline managed to continue raising her son alone. Despite the premature loss of her mate, she had no regrets.
Likewise, I would change nothing. Even considering our occasional difficulties, I dare say I am proud of all we have built, the family we have raised. I feel no shame over my choice to love and to be loved in return. I feared it would cost me dearly in the beginning, but I cannot imagine a life more enriched than that of being the wife of Trip Tucker.
I have had much more time with my Trip than she had with hers; yet here, on the precipice of losing my mate forever, I fear I am weak where she must have been strong. Perhaps it is because she had their adolescent child to continue to care for. Our children are grown, with families of their own. No one needs me as much as I need him.
So I would welcome it, when the time comes, if the bond would take me, too. A selfish notion, perhaps, illogical and irrational, but it is what I feel nonetheless. A life without his love, his touch, his presence in my mind is unimaginable. For sixty-three years, seven months, two weeks and four days, he has been an integral part of me. Parting and never parted. It is not a mere vow; it is an indelible truth.
And time, in an ultimate act of cruelty, seeks to force us to part.
I open myself to him, to gain comfort from feeling more of him. I sense that he's stirring, and I brush away the tear that has escaped the corner of my eye. I cannot hide my struggle with my emotional control from him; he'd already be aware of it. Still, I do not wish tangible evidence of my lapse to cause him guilt or heartache over that which neither of us can control.
He inhales deeply, and his eyes open. Even now he tries to charm me with his crooked smile, though it has been weakened by his failing health. His eyes still shine with mischief, and he raises a shaky hand. I take it into both of mine and still I am amazed that these work-roughened hands could touch me so tenderly, stir things inside of me that I'd never thought possible before we'd met.
I owe the most fulfilling years of my life to these hands.
"We've had a hell of a good run, baby," he says in the raspy whisper that has become his voice. Though I tried to shield him from my thoughts, I feel a stab of guilt as I now suspect some of my musings have intruded upon his rest. Regardless, he knows our time is almost at an end.
"Agreed," I answer, squeezing his fingers. I allow him to see a faint smile pull at my lips. Small displays like this still leave him feeling like he's gotten away with something, even after all our years together. Of all the things I should be giving him at this moment, he finds such a simple pleasure so meaningful. I give it freely.
"I love you forever," he says with great effort. "Remember, no matter how much you love me, I love you more." It's a game of sorts he likes to play with me. I admit it took a long time for me to understand the rules, and that it existed largely because despite our bond and each constantly knowing how the other feels, he is Human and has always possessed a Human need to articulate his feelings.
"If you say so," I answer as I did the first time, and every time since, "though I don't believe that is possible, ashayam."
His laugh immediately erupts into coughing, and I sit helplessly waiting for him to catch his breath. "Tired..." he says when he's finally able, and within seconds he is dozing again.
I climb into bed beside him, disturbing him as little as possible as I wrap my arms around the man who has been everything to me for more than half my life. The notion of facing the next eighty years or longer without him is frightening.
I analyze and memorize every nuance of our conversation...on the chance that it was our last.
I wait.
For him to draw his last breath, I wait.
...and I quietly cling to the irrational hope that it is also my own.
This is so good! It is romantic...T'Pol style...sad, comforting, poignant, and ... satisfying to a dedicated Trip and T'Pol fan that they did have a good life after all. Thank you so much for such a great story.
Fantastic! ( And I have no problem with Trip calling T'Pol '' baby ''. )
I love this story because it address the truth that no matter what, T'Pol is eventually going to lose Trip. Barring her own untimely death, she will outlive him, and they both know this time had to come. It is in the nature of things. Would that some TV writers we all know would have recognized that pathos inherent in the situation as you have. Great, bittersweet story.
This is such a beautiful written story. Loved the teasing part when Trip said that he always loved her more and the fact that they had a beautiful life together. Wonderful story.
Mary--Thanks a lot for your remarks!
WarpGirl--I disagree. (Obviously, since I wrote it that way, lol! :p) It's long been a part of Trek lore that when one bondmate dies, it's so catastrophic and such a shock to the system to have the link so suddenly severed, that the other bondmate often dies, too, or goes insane. So I would tend to say that T'Pol doing everything she could to nurture the bond and make it as strong as possible in the hopes that when he goes, she goes, too, is precisely plotting a "suicide by bond." Whether or not she gets the results she wants remains to be seen. The point is, she's made up her mind a long time ago that she wants to go. And if she's a strong telepath, then it seems it would follow that she'd have the mental strength/discipline to keep Trip, who is not a teleptah, from seeing this thought.
As for the "baby" thing, it's not something I see him calling her all the time, and it has little to do with what she'd "accept" from him. On the occasions he uses it I see her being more perplexed than anything...and in this particular situation, he's like ninety and can probalby pretty much call her anything he wants and under the circumstances, she won't bat much of an eye. ;) I can totally see where others wouldn't have him using it, and that's cool. It's just a matter of opinion.
Thanks for your thoughts. :)
I don't think you can plan 'suicide by bond" ot either happens or it doesn't. It depends on the strength of the telepath. Also if the bond IS that strong I find it hard to believe Trip wouldn't pick up on T'Pol's thoughts. He might not be able to change anything but he'd "know." Anyway I have one teeny, tiny, microscopic, nit-pick. I just don't see T'Pol liking the moniker of "Baby" or Babe (I've seen it done) even from Trip. I can see her accepting Sweetheart, Honey, Darling, Wife... And others, but definitely not Baby. Sorry please don't kill me.
I'm a hopeless happy ending type. I like to pretend no one dies. However, this was such a touching, emotional piece, beautifully written. I loved T'Pol contemplating their life together and realizing that though there were problems, the good and happy times dominated.It is actually very romantic that she prefers to die with him, wanting but not forcing that to happen. Thanks for the tears
Holy crap! What happened to the spacing in the story?? Ah, well, I guess we'll worry about that later...
Any way, just had a peek here and saw new reviews--it's like Christmas up in here today! :D
Linda, I can see where you might have an issue with the word "deny". However I think there are a couple things at work here. First, while Vulcans have feelings, they don't really allow themselves to experience them, and to me that's the distinction that led me to that word choice. They just fold up whatever they're feeling and put it in some little pocket somewhere, repression is big with these people. Second, since T'Pol doesn't have the same emotional control she had before messing around with Trellium D, and since she's been actively involved with an emotional mate and emotional children, I feel sure that an undertone of anger, fear, and resentment at the prospect of losing her mate may also have led to a more extreme word choice.
Just a matter of interpretation, I guess. ;)
Thanks again to all who've taken the time to read and comment.