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Because so many of my readers responded so passionately to my inter-species foray into fan fiction romance, and because more than one of you have mentioned that you’re missing Trip and T’Pol, and because I totally am, too…
I offer you Letters Unsent, in its somewhat revised epistolary glory!
(click the links to see the rough draft version, and to view the prompt that inspired this story!)
Trip, T’Pol, and Star Trek: Enterprise belong to Paramount, even if Paramount has forgotten all about them…
This is an extrapolated “missing scene” epistolary story, imagining possible unsent correspondence in the wake of the events detailed in S4E3: “Home”. Major spoilers for that episode; spoilers for S3E–: “Damage”, S2E7: “The Seventh”, and S1E–: “Fusion”.
This story is rated R for language, adult content, and sexual situations.
I can’t believe that you used me that way! Bad enough that you went ahead and married a man we both know you don’t love – I can kinda understand that; you did it for your mom, and I can respect that, even if –
Awww hell -even if I hate it more than I can think of words for –
But what you did – you seduced me when I was too drunk to know what the hell I was doing – thought it was all some beautiful dream, until I woke up and found out it was all a nightmare…
I love you woman, you know that?! Love you –
And, damn, I hate you right now.
Hate you for taking advantage of me, for dragging me back into your bed, into you –
What the hell was that all about, anyway? You used me to – to commit adultery, T’Pol. Told you and told you – I’m a gentleman, or I’m supposed to be, anyway.
Gentlemen on Earth don’t jump into bed with women who just married someone else, even if it isn’t exactly a love match. You made me an adulterer, pepper- no, not callin’ you that, not anymore – T’Pol – you took something from me that I can never ever get back. You took my integrity, and yours – I can’t see you the same way, now, and I hate you for that.
Oh, damn – I hate you, and I love you, and I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do with that, how the hell I’m gonna be able to work with you after this –
Don’t come back. Call the Cap’n, have him ship your damned things to you. Stay the hell on your own world – off my ship, and outta my life –
Hope you have exactly as soulless and emotionless a life as you deserve –
No, I don’t. I want you to be happy. I want you to have more than you ever dreamed of. Passels of little pointy-eared Vulcan babies, if you want them – do you? You didn’t want babies with me – was my DNA not good enough for you? I’ll damned well bet his is, though….
You know what? The hell with you. The hell with you and your damned cryptic ways, your fucking logic, your goddamned control – ha, what a laugh that is – when you – you broke my heart and stomped all over it, T’Pol, and then you leave me the damned booze, knowing what I’d do with it, and you got good and high, didn’t you, and came and – damned near raped me –
The hell with you, T’Pol. If I never see your damned beautiful face again, it’ll be way too soon for me!
Awww, hell, I can’t send this – not to you. Not knowing your expression won’t even change when you hear it – forget the whole damned thing – I’m just done with it, and you….computer, delete it.”
I – I don’t know how to begin this letter. As you know, apologies are a human convention, and not a Vulcan one. Perhaps, if I were human, I would be better able to make an apology that could in some way compensate for – for the harm I’ve caused you. Harm I know I’ve inflicted upon you, but which I don’t fully understand.
Your emotions – they are alien to me.
And they aren’t. Perhaps it is a gift, and, at the same time, a curse, that I have lived among your people, worked alongside you, learned something more of you than what my people normally believe of you.
Most Vulcans can remain unaware of the depth and complexity of human relationships. I cannot, not anymore.
Although it is illogical, I feel your pain. In the way you left, and in your silence.
I’ve hurt you, in ways I don’t fully understand, any more than I understand my own motivations in returning to my mother’s house, in engaging in sexual relations with you, when I know that your understanding of what makes a marriage differs strongly from the contract I entered into with Koss.
In my own defense, I can say only that I – I needed you-
I need you.
It’s not logical.
That makes it no less true.
I need you. My life, without you, is – empty. Hollow. Desolate.
These are emotions that have no translation in my language. Vulcans aren’t meant to define and label our emotions; we are meant to suppress them, when we can’t repress them. We are meant to separate emotion from thought and action, and behave logically.
I didn’t do this, as regards my feelings for you.
I don’t know how. What I – what I feel for you, Trip – I have no words by which to define the emotions, and I won’t use human words I don’t fully comprehend the implications of – but these emotions are more powerful than I am.
Perhaps I should remain here, but – but I know that I will not.
I need you.
I want you.
There is a human expression that once seemed more illogical and inaccurate than most. I didn’t understand it then – but I believe I do, now.
My heart is broken. You entered my life, Awakened me, made me something other than what I might have been – something that isn’t human, precisely, but that is no longer wholly Vulcan.
You’ve made me feel, and I can’t stop.
But my emotions aren’t the purpose of this missive.
I’m not certain what is.
I don’t know how to apologize to you, Trip. I can’t see anything I can say or do which will offer you any healing whatsoever.
I suspect this letter has been more for me, than for you – and it isn’t serving to clarify or purge my emotional chaos as regards you –
My T’Pol –
Daughter, I’ve meditated on this communication, and still I find that I don’t know how to begin, or how to assist you as you heal. I’m uncertain whether you can heal.
I’ve encouraged you to make choices that I thought would be logical and beneficial. However, I was lacking crucial information, and it’s now evident that my advice wasn’t best suited to your circumstances,that the logic I employed neglected the realities of your life.
I watched you with your human lover, daughter. Yes, I know that you were intimately and romantically linked, prior to the incident following your marriage. Perhaps you’re unaware, but the connection between you was palpable.
When you brought Commander Tucker here, to my home, I considered it a dishonor. That was an illogical and prejudicial determination. He is the first human I’ve met, and he has shown me that there is much I assumed about his species that is not true.
Daughter, he loves you. Perhaps it will surprise you, that I speak of love. Such things aren’t relevant in Vulcan marriages. But this human, this man, loves you enough to sacrifice his desire to be with you, to belong to you and claim you for his own, rather than cause you any more pain and confusion.
I urged you to Koss. I believe now that I was wrong. You’ve changed, T’Pol, in many ways. You are no longer only of this world, nor should you be. You are more, now. You belong not only to Vulcan, but to the humans with whom you’ve made your life, the humans who accepted you when your duty with them damaged you.
Humans are clearly more open, more accepting, than our species. This man loves you, honors you in every choice he makes. Against this, what can a Vulcan marriage offer you? Children? Perhaps, I was wrong about this, as well. If you had children with Commander Tucker, they would have two parents to care for them and tend their needs. Would it matter, if others didn’t understand? If I didn’t?
I thought these were vital matters. Now, I’m uncertain. Perhaps it’s too late- Commander Tucker seems to view marriage, as all things, far more emotionally than we do. Perhaps that is at the root of human nature. I know that he’s deeply troubled, daughter, as you are. He’s concerned for your welfare. He didn’t betray your confidence, but he demanded, most passionately, that I ‘take good care’ of you.
I’ve perhaps failed in doing so. There are things, my T’Pol, that I haven’t shared with you. Perhaps I should have, before you married Koss. Maybe you would have chosen differently, rather than putting my career ahead of your needs and desires, or your chosen mate’s. I thought to give you security against the questionable and controversial changes that contributed to my dismissal, and I allowed you to believe that you were the sole cause of my recent difficulties.
There is more to this situation than you know, and more than I will tell you now. You’re ill, and need time and space to recover – physically and otherwise.
I see now that this communication is ill-advised. I’ll allow you the space and freedom I didn’t, while you were with me, and, perhaps, if you return to Enterprise and your human colleagues, you’ll find a path that is beneficial for you, and also for Commander Tucker.
I know you’ve gone to Mount Seleya. I’ll save this letter to give to you at a time when you are more prepared to receive it.
Not sure how to say this – hell, I haven’t been sober since – well, since it happened.
Since what happened? Yeah, I can hear you askin’.
Since she ripped my heart out, shredded it, and let my red human blood spill all over those damned sands of hers.
You know me an’ desert worlds. Shoulda never let you talk me into goin’ with her. Thought it was about perfect – you wantin’ me to go, take care of her, help her – the perfect excuse to be alone together.
Well, I took care of her, all right- neither one of us wore a damned stitch of clothing, once I got my tour of engineering. She said we’d been on the damned planet for six hours before we came up for air enough to get dressed and disembark – she’d know, I guess, with that damned computer brain of hers. Probably assessed and rated my performance every time we ‘had sexual relations’ – yeah, that’s exactly how she puts it. Makes it sound real damned romantic, doesn’t it? Like we’re two computer systems interfacin’, or something, with no passion at all….
But it’s not like that, Cap’n. You might not believe it, but she’s the most passionate woman I’ve ever met, let alone made love with. She turned my life and my opinion of what Vulcans are right on its ear- she walked right into my soul and set up camp there.
Thing is, I love her. Not just a little – with everything I am. Know how I took you to that jazz club you hated, told you I met the most beautiful woman in the universe there, only I didn’t exactly meet her?
Well – surprise, surprise – it was her. Betcha didn’t see that one comin’ did ya? Yup – me an’ T’Pol – we shared something that night, somethin’ I don’t even pretend to understand – but there’s no mistakin’ what it did to me.
How the hell stupid am I, to think it did somethin’ to her, too? Shoulda listened when she told me that she was just ‘exploring human sexuality’. Shoulda known it was too good, and a helluva lot too illogical, to last. She got what she wanted, whatever the hell that was, and now – well, now she’s married to him – and where the hell does that leave me?
On Kov’s transport, that’s where, in this bunk – you wouldn’t believe how comfortable Vulcan bunks are, Cap’n! – all alone, wishin’ I could scratch her itchy back – did you know her back itches, like, constantly, that she sits there on the Bridge all day, repressin’ it – that and bein’ chilly, cause we keep things about 25 degrees cooler than what’s room temperature, to her? No, betcha she never said a word – doesn’t want anyone to know she’s uncomfortable…
Can almost feel her fingers on me – oh damn, those fingers. There’s another one you wouldn’t believe. Helluva sexy woman, and I’ve seen you lookin’ – you, and Malcolm, and even Travis – god knows, I love gettin’ all tangled up with that body, in that body- but you’re all missing the sexiest part of her, right there in the open on the ends of her hands. Do you have any idea how sensitive those fingers are? How much she feels through them? What I can do to her – aww, hell – just by touching them? What she can do to me with them?
Do ya know why Vulcans don’t wanna shake hands with us, Cap’n? Why they use a numbing agent on their fingertips if they think they might have to touch us?
Well, I do. And I understand….damn, if only her fingers were here now –
Oh, hell. Sorry about that – guess you can tell by the noises I kinda forgot what I was doin’ here- well, I’m not sending anyone this letter- gonna try ta either sleep it off or get drunk all over again…
I request a formal meeting to renegotiate and clarify the terms of our legal responsibilities to one another. Recent events in both our lives suggest that a logical re-evaluation of our arrangement, now that we have complied with the parental and cultural edicts to marry as we were Promised, is not only essential to the strength of our alliance, but may also prove personally agreeable to us both, according each of us the greatest ability to conduct our personal affairs in a manner in keeping with our disparate natures.
In summary, the terms I seek to discuss are as follows:
Sexual fidelity, and retaining choice of the partners with whom we may each choose to engage in sexual relations is of particular interest to me. Honor compels me to inform you that, although our marriage bond will not be consummated until, and not other than, the occurrence of pon farr, I have chosen, and may again choose, to engage in sexual relations with another. I’ll bear him no child; as per our current arrangement, any progeny I bear will carry your genetic inheritance.
I have no objection whatever with you engaging in any form of sexual relations with any partner you desire, so long as matters of health and discretion are respected.
I hereby request the same freedoms.
No – this is too formal, too accepting. It grants too much power over what is and should be my own life – and that’s what I have come to Seleya for – to reclaim what is, and shall be, none other’s but my own!
Sorry I ran out on you like that. I should’ve stayed. Should’ve made damned sure you were all right before I left you all alone on that planet.
Only, you’re not all alone, are you? It’s just me who is. You’ve got a fine upstanding Vulcan husband. Notice he’s got blue eyes – does that make it easier for you to fool yourself, or is one set just the same as another, to you? Does it even matter?
When you look into his eyes, will he see what I see when I look at you? Will you show him how funny you can be? How scared and vulnerable? How adorable? How stubborn and wrongheaded and unexpectedly kind? Will you be as jealous with him? Damn, will you be as sensual and irresistible to him as you are to me?
I remember when you were first telling me about this whole marriage thing. You said it was expected that you would eventually ‘develop an affection’ for one another. Will you? Is that what you did with me? ‘Developed an affection’?
What the hell were we, there, at the end, T’Pol? Were we going where I thought we were, or was it all in my head, or my heart?
Why do I feel like you love me the way I love you – well, not the same, but the same, or at least with the same intent and intensity? Why do I feel like you’re hurting as much as I am? Or maybe more? Like maybe I was wrong before, and your trellium was the same as the Andorian ale was for me – only more necessary, because it’s you and trellium?
Have you told Koss about your addiction? About how trapped you are? What it does to you? Are you going to? Pepperpot, I hate that I’m not there with you. That I left you like that, all alone, hurt, high and confused- needing me….the way I need you.
Do you need me, t’hy’la? Am I still that, to you? Can I be, with you married to him?
Did you want this, all along? A neat and tidy Vulcan life? No damned chaotic human messing everything up?
No, I can’t think you did. Maybe once, before you came to Enterprise. Before Fusion – but then, why would you even have gone there if you wanted the complete Vulcan package? But if you ever did, I’m sure you don’t now. I’ve watched you – this last year’s been seven kinds of hell and more, for all of us – but you were really coming into yourself. Not turning human – just – just giving yourself permission to be exactly who you are. I know all these emotions you can’t control anymore scare you, make you real nervous – ‘agitated’, as you used to say.
I hope you come home. Even if all we are is friends, now. Even if we can’t even figure out a way to be that much.
Because I think you need us, T’Pol. I think you fit us now, and we fit you, better than Vulcan can. We were there when you broke. We all broke, too, and we won’t hold it against you. We know your strengths – and damn, pepperpot, you’ve the strongest person I’ve ever met. But we also know that you’re vulnerable, and how. We can protect you from yourself, and you can do that for us, too.
But only if you’re here, T’Pol. We can only support each other if you don’t disappear into the sands.
I don’t know how I’m goin’ to handle you being here, and married to him – but I know I’ll do my damndest to be OK with it. Might not be easy, but this is your home, and mine, and – well, I’ll figure something out.
I don’t know whether I should send this letter or not. Can’t remember if I sent you anything before this- I’ve been – well, I haven’t exactly stopped drinkin’ yet, and, without you to pick me up off the deck plating – things are all kinda blurry…
Maybe I’d better just get rid of this –
Captain Archer –
I wish to speak with you on matters of professional – and personal – significance. However, attempts to contact you at your residence of record have failed. I hope that you’re well, and recovering.
I have, after due consideration, decided to accept Starfleet’s offer of a commissioned position. I’m certain that you will be contacted by both the High Command and Admiral Forrest regarding the specifics of the – negotiations. I’ll comply with all requirements agreed upon by these agencies, to the best of my abilities. I’ve revealed my addiction to trellium-D, and the measures we have thus far devised to deal with its impact upon my life, and my duty. It may provide enough of a concern to negate my service aboard Enterprise in any capacity; if so, I’ll leave your crew with regret.
I’ve been changed by my service with you, in ways that are difficult to explain, and have proven impossible, thus far, to reconcile into a strictly Vulcan life. However, I am Vulcan, and, as such, there are certain societal expectations. It has become necessary, for reasons I’m not at liberty to divulge, to attend to one of these expectations, and formalize my marriage contract.
Generally, Vulcans don’t speak of such things- however, the duties of a spousal arrangement on this world differ significantly from what I’ve been able to surmise of comparable human pairbonding arrangements. My husband has agreed to allow me to pursue my career, although it will mean a variance from tradition. However, there will come a time, likely within the next three years, when I must return to Vulcan and to Koss, for an as-yet indeterminate length of time. The reasons for this, I’m unable to discuss with you. However, there can be no delay, when the time comes, regardless of the mission we are currently embarked upon, and there may be little warning.
I thought it best that you know that, at the outset.
That concludes the professional portion of this communication. What follows is – intensely personal, and of far greater import.
Captain, I consider you my friend. You’ve proven you can be trusted, and, in many ways, you’ve overcome your mistrust of my species. The term ‘friend’ is a human concept, not a Vulcan one, but, as I understand it, we are friends.
That’s beneficial, because I’ve never needed the counsel of a friend more than I do, now.
I didn’t need your friendship as much when I confided in you regarding my addiction, nor when I was sent to apprehend Menos, and remembered Jossen. I didn’t need it as much when Tolaris inflicted the mind-meld upon me.
Before I explain further, I must inform you that I’ve been – much affected – by trellium, in the last weeks, to the detriment of my own reason and control. I’m not employing it now- but, Captain – Jonathan – I am in great pain, and I know no way to ease it.
Worse, I’ve harmed Trip, hurt him in a way I’m uncertain he can recover from.
As I consider you my friend, Trip is certainly my t’hy’la. There’s no direct human translation for the term, as it encompasses Vulcan concepts and realities that have no analog among your species.
There are, however, human words that hint at the shape of this connection. Friend. Brother. Companion. Mate. Beloved. Soulmate. Kindred. Lover. Partner. Cherished.
Does it surprise you, that I see him so? That I can?
That, feeling as I do for him, I would choose to willingly marry another?
Vulcans, Captain, are not human. Marriage is a separate issue, a contract entered into for the continued security and stability of my culture, for reasons I can’t discuss with you.
But human marriages are different. And I believe that’s what Trip wanted – perhaps still wants. It’s what I wanted – what I want.
I’m a Vulcan. What I chose willingly, I did for reasons other than any desire to marry Koss, or hurt Trip.
To hurt myself, in hurting him.
I did what I felt I must; I explained to Trip as well as I was able. He- accepted my reasons, and my decision. I can’t say he was either calm or happy about it, initially. I suspect that you’d find this story even more unbelievable if I attempted to convince you of that. You’ll perhaps have less difficulty believing that Trip stood for me at my wedding, wearing my father’s robes. That he supported me, through his anger and pain. That he longed to make a grand gesture in keeping with his idealistic and impetuous nature, but that he restrained himself, because he is, as he says, a gentleman, at least as I have come to understand the word.
He is also, however imperfectly, a diplomat. He supported me, and, in doing so, honored my world and my culture. No other human has ever attended a Vulcan marriage ceremony, and he comported himself far more properly than I myself did.
Perhaps he might have recovered from the fact of my marriage, particularly if I had had the opportunity, once the ceremony was complete, to detail for him the manner in which this contract differs from what he may believe it to be.
However – Jonathan, I was weak. I don’t have words to explain to you what it means, to have surrendered my t’hy’la, for whatever reason, no matter how valid. I am – bereft, desolate, empty, hollow – and I know that he is the same – and more.
I – injected a – a great deal of trellium. I can’t say how much; I kept no records. I used my supply, and manufactured more. I returned to my mother’s home, knowing Trip was there, knowing too that he would drink the Andorian ale that I left for him.
Jonathan – I’m unclear on precisely what happened next, beyond that it involved a considerable amount of sexual activity, over several days. For me, there was solace and beauty in our connection, although I hadn’t meant to do it- or don’t think that I did – it’s difficult to know, now, what I thought then.
But Trip helped me because I needed him, because he feels that thing known as – as love, among your people – for me. And because I am stronger, and, being Vulcan, I was – persistent. He helped me, mated with me, because that’s what I needed of him. For days I kept him for my own, claimed him –
No. I won’t think of that, not now. I can’t, and remain rational. I need him, Jonathan. I want him.
I fear the intensity of my emotions, my desires.
I fear my return, and what I might do, if I can’t control myself.
I’ve hurt Trip, who is a gentleman, and sees our – our sexual relations conducted after my marriage as a breach of my marriage contract. He’s angry at me, and himself. When he left me, I wasn’t in a condition to alleviate his pain. I believe that he is or was drinking heavily.
I’m returning to Enterprise. I know now that it’s my home, as much as yours, or Trip’s, and that I belong nowhere else. I’m returning because I need to be near Trip, for reasons I don’t understand myself. He is my t’hy’la, and I’m certain to cause him, and myself, further pain. My pain I accept; it’s a logical consequence of my decision to marry another.
His, though – Captain – Jonathan, please believe me when I say that I never intended to cause Trip any pain. I wished to live my life with him, perhaps to be his wife, one day, to be the mother of his children, as I was, in another reality. I wished – so many things. Illogical things. Things that are perhaps not possible, in a human life. Or a Vulcan one.
Perhaps only on Enterprise could they have happened.
I ask you to – to support him. To offer him what I can’t – simple human friendship. Comfort. Solace. Understanding that he is in pain.
I didn’t intend to cry- or to say so much. I don’t know that this will help. I suspect I should take time to consider whether it will.
I’ve tried before to record a letter to you – at least, I think I did. I seem to remember at least a couple – but never quite got around to it, or I deleted them. Might’ve just been talking to myself, or having a hallucination – yeah, it’s been a wild ride, this last couple of weeks – who knows, might just delete this one, too…
At first, I thought it would help to just stay the hell drunk – so drunk I could barely remember my own name, or why the hell I was drinking. Remember when I puked on your boots, and you took me home, showered me, put m in your bed, let me – well, you know what you let me do, that next morning- and hid me out till I sobered up enough not to be a danger to myself or anybody else ?
Well, this was a helluva lot worse than that. A real, first-rate bender. I’m pretty sure a hard-core alcoholic couldn’t have done better. I’ve never in my life been so damned drunk for so damned long. I’m not sure my liver’s ever gonna forgive me for this one.
I’m sober now.
Maybe that should make this easier. I don’t know. It hasn’t so far.
What we did together, after your wedding – I can’t pretend I understand what drove you that way. But I think I can – well, I don’t want to say ‘forgive you’ – not for being honest and doing what you wanted, or what you needed. In a weird kind of way, I guess- well, I’m honored that it’s me you wanted then, and not him. The way you said you were honored when I – no, not going to think about that anymore.
I’ve tormented myself about those days, T’Pol, and that’s why I stayed so drunk for so long – but then, I think of how you were –
I’m pretty damned sure that was your first bender, ever, pepperpot. And that you had no idea in hell how to handle yourself, or how to get through it.
How much trellium was there, and for how long? Do you even know? Can you?
How the hell could I put your fidelity to a marriage you damned sure didn’t want to be in, not then, whether or not you do now, ahead of your feelings, what you needed?
I don’t understand exactly why you married him, pepperpot, and I don’t think I ever really will. I’m not Vulcan. But I know that they cowed you, broke you, made you do something you didn’t want to do.
Because of what happened next, I know that you still want me – or you did, anyway. I shouldn’t have left you, that way. I shouldn’t have left you at all. It was a helluvan ungentlemanly thing to do.
I should’ve waited until you could tell me what you needed – besides the obvious, falling-all-over-each-other-in-bed stuff. I get the idea that there’s a helluva lot more to this than what I know, and that I tucked my tail between my legs and ran off just when you needed me the most – before you were anywhere near sober enough or stable enough to know what that was, yourself.
I know I hurt you by leaving you that way. I hope I didn’t make it worse. I hope you’re able to catch hold of some happiness with that Koss fellow- he seems likable enough, and friendlier than most of the Vulcans I’ve met. I know he’ll be good to you; I could see it in his eyes, that he won’t hurt you.
But all that’s not the biggest reason I’m recording this letter, now.
I got back to work yesterday. It feels good to be back with my engines – to be sober enough to trust myself here, in my Engine Room. Place is still empty, till you get here tomorrow- Cap’n and I are the only ones on the ship, right now. I’m glad – I’m not ready to deal with anyone yet. Cap’n’s busy – and I’m glad for that, too.
He told me, though, that you’re coming home. That you’re a full Commander now, with shiny new jewelry on your sweet catsuits – not sure how I feel about you not dressin’ like us. I mean, it wouldn’t be the same, with you in a jumpsuit, and I know you’d probably be too cold without your extra insulation- but, damn – how am I gonna see you, day after day after day, in those clothes, knowing what’s underneath, remembering you in just your skin, arching back, displaying for me and only me…?
Aww, hell, T’Pol. This is gonna be so hard.
I think I’m glad you’re coming home, pepperpot – but I might not act like it, when you get here tomorrow. I might not have anything to say to you- this hurts, so, so bad. More because I know I cheated us out of whatever chance we had to resolve those last crazy days, and I left you there and hurting, on a world that doesn’t have any patience for that. I hope you went back to Koss, and he helped you –
And I hope that you didn’t- that I’m still your only lover, your t’hy’la….
Because I love you, T’Pol, and I want you. So much that I don’t know what to do with everything I feel about you- about us. Why do I feel like this marriage of yours is a farce, that it’s you and I who really belong together?
Why do I feel like I’m a huge part of why you’re coming home, coming back to us?
Why do I want to grab you, take you to bed, and stay there until neither of us can take any more? Why do I want to hide from you, pretend I don’t care one way or another that you’re here?
How the hell am I gonna see you, work with you – awww, hell, smell you?!
Am I supposed to pretend we don’t mean anything to one another? That we never did, and never will?
I sure as hell hope you’ve got this figured out like you do everything else, pep- hang on, Cap’n headed this way, so I gotta go –
I’m approaching Spacedock, and Enterprise. I don’t know if you’ll be waiting at the airlock with the Captain – I don’t know if you have any desire to see me. I know I’ve wounded you, with my actions. Despite having attempted to compose a letter to you, I’ve failed to have any contact with you. I’m uncertain contact would have been wise, in any event, or if I wish to see you, where others might observe. My control, where you are concerned, too often fails, as you know perhaps far too well.
I’m still Awakened to you, and you alone, t’hy’la. I still desire you, and I don’t know if my control will be sufficient to suppress my impulse to seize you, to claim you for my own, to offer myself to you. I don’t know if the Captain’s presence, or anyone’s, will be enough to deter me, if you are there. Perhaps this is a permanent affect of the trellium; I haven’t used it since the day you left Vulcan, and yet I still –
I’ll do what I’m able to repress the emotions – but I want you, Trip. I suspect that that is a reality that will not change, regardless of circumstance.
I can’t defend or explain my actions in the days following my marriage. I was – deeply altered, and I offer no excuse. I would offer an apology, in the manner of your people, but, as I understand the custom, it’s meant to include some remediation of the offense, and I can provide none for the wrong I’ve done to you.
Would it help to explain to you the nature of the contract I have entered into with Koss? That it is a contract? That he’s not attracted to me, or in fact to any woman? Would you find solace, or rage, if you knew how we will use one another, when pon farr comes? That is uncertain he will desire me then, but, if he needs me, or I him, that we are duty-bound to serve one another in that fashion? That the consequence of denying that duty is death? That I may bear children only to him, and no other?
Perhaps you wouldn’t have wished it, but I want to have your children, Trip. Before Lorian, I was uncertain we could reproduce, but Phlox has said he doesn’t feel it would be difficult to combine human and Vulcan DNA. We might perhaps have been able to conceive naturally –
But enough. The transport is preparing to dock; there’s no further time for this. On my world, we have a phrase which, in rough terms, translates to ‘What is, is’. I use it now, as I surrender myself to whatever will be, between us.