Equilateral

The negotiations with the Saurians had gone on for at least three days, and even T’Pol found her patience being tested. The three affable, reptilian aliens were willing to trade, but Ensign Sato believed that the men expected something from the Captain in order to seal the the deal for the desperately needed warp plasma, but she could not glean what it was. These thin, scaly aliens were far different from the Xindi Reptilians. They were charming and solicitous, but indirect, and their faces were difficult to read through their breathing masks. Something else about their manner struck T’Pol as suspicious, though, as her Human mates would say, she was unable to “put her finger on it.”

For one thing, the aliens did not ever speak or look her in the eye, though they did seem to be appraising her body as they spoke to one another. They attempted to treat Ensign Sato the same way, until it became clear that she was the translator. Even then they would not make eye contact when they spoke to her. This was particularly trying since the odd cadence of the aliens' voices was incompatible with the UT. While the reptilians seemed very patient as language differences were sorted out, T'Pol could sense the growing awkwardness in Enterprise's conference room, and perhaps a level of concealed agitation from Jonathan.

“They seem to want something. They keep asking for a gift,” said Sato.

“What do they want?” asked Archer. “I’m willing to give them a gift if it will get us the hell out of here. I just need to know what it is.”

Hoshi sighed. “I think you need to ask them directly, sir,” she said. “Let me tell you how to ask.”

Sato taught the Captain a few phrases. He repeated them to the Saurians, who nodded and seemed satisfied.

Archer faced Sato. “Did they happen to mention what it is they want?” he asked uncertainly.

Sato shook her head. “No sir. It’s very strange. They just seem satisfied with the question. Their language is very complex and full of idiom.” She frowned. “I’m afraid I’m missing something.”

In any case, this seemed to help the negotiations. The Saurians transferred the warp plasma, and Enterprise in return transferred several cuttings from the garden’s fruit plants as well as instructions on how to cultivate them. Earth flora obviously held great appeal to these aliens. They even included an unexpected gift of their own: several cases of locally produced brandy.

After the transfer, T’Pol headed down the corridor alone. She wanted to check-in with Commander Tucker, who was inspecting the warp plasma. Two of the aliens found her in the hall and began speaking in their strange language. As she attempted to communicate, one of them stunned her.

She awoke on their ship and realized it was traveling at warp. The sound of her breathing was muffled; she reached up to find her face was covered with a breathing mask. The two aliens who had accosted her in Enterprise's corridor were standing over her, their faces uncovered.

“We are happy to accept you,” said one of the reptiles in broken Vulcan.

“Accept me?” she said.

“Your Captain offered you to us. We accepted.”

T’Pol closed her eyes. Something clearly had been lost in translation.

* * *

“What do you mean, she's gone?” Trip hissed.

Jon winced inwardly, half-sitting on the edge of his desk. His reaction had been much the same when Reed had given him the news that his first officer—their wife—was nowhere to be found on the ship. He was glad he'd called Trip into his ready room to deliver the news. Trip didn't need to hear this from anyone but Jon, and he sure as hell didn't need to hear it in front of everyone.

The way I did, Jon silently added.

Trip looked like he'd just been punched in the gut. He dropped into the chair against the wall. “They have her,” Trip murmured numbly.

Jon moved closer, unsure how to comfort his friend and lover. Stooping, he caught Trip's gaze squeezed his arm reassuringly. “It's looking that way.”

Trip was shaking with what Jon guessed was fear and rage and all the other things he felt himself, but didn't dare show in front of his crew. One of the drawbacks of command. “Do something, Jon.”

Jon stood, strode purposefully to his desk and stabbed at the comm button. “Archer to Reed. Status report.”

“Captain,” Malcolm's voice said through the speaker,”sensors have just acquired the Saurians' warp signature. Lt. Sato is still scanning the data we downloaded from them for information about their homeworld.”

“Have Travis lay in a pursuit course and engage at maximum warp. Out.”

By the time Jon looked up, Trip was up and pacing the room. “We've gotta do something!”

Jon crossed the room, raising his arms to...what? Clasp Trip's shoulders? Embrace him? It was frustrating, wanting to touch him at a time like this and not knowing how. “We are...and we will. Right now I need you to get down to engineering. You're going to have to push those engines harder than they've ever been pushed.” Jon dropped his arms. He felt Trip's fingers brush against the back of his hands as he tentatively reached out as well. “She needs you down there.”

Nodding, Trip backed up reluctantly. “You call me the minute we know anything.”

“You know it.”

Trip didn't wait to be dismissed. Jon wasn't sure protocol exactly covered this situation any way.

And he had to confess to being a little relieved when the door slid shut on his lover's back. He would be better off in engineering, actively working toward facilitating T'Pol's rescue.

Unlike me, thought Jon ruefully, dreading having to sit impotently on the bridge and fight the urge to look over at T'Pol's empty station.

* * *

Ten hours later, Trip paced in engineering. The engines were being pushed to the maximum as they gave chase T'Pol's Saurian abductors. Meanwhile, Hoshi had found some information as to the location of the aliens’ homeworld, which appeared to coincide with the Saurians' current course. This bit of information made him feel slightly better about the inevitable slowing of the ship’s speed, which was probably less than an hour away.

Trip was ready to crawl out of his own skin. He was sure the engines were only moments away from a meltdown or breach if he continued to push them this way. Regardless of the constant attention they required, it wasn't enough to keep him from thinking about how good it would feel to tear apart the next Saurian he saw with his bare hands. His crew gave him a wide berth, his pent up aggression occasionally showing in the way he'd smack a console or bang tools around.

The Saurians had crossed a line. God help them if even one impeccably arranged hair on her head was out of place when Enterprise caught up to them. If she'd been harmed, he'd make them pay. Jon would make them pay.

Trip sighed. He had done everything he could not to worry about T’Pol, to focus on the engines. Despite his fear and anger, he had a strong instinct that she was still alive and unharmed, presumably thanks to the bond. It was small comfort. Strangely enough, he was more worried about Jon than he was T’Pol.

The news of T’Pol’s abduction had caused a boiling rage in Jon, the likes of which Trip had not seen since before they were thrown back in time. He hid it well from Malcolm, Hoshi and the others, but had Trip recognized the coolness that masked unbridled emotion. Emotion that T’Pol wasn’t around to help him squelch. Jon had icily given orders to pursue the ship at top speed and sequestered himself in his ready room.

Trip had contacted him about how long he expected to maintain maximum warp, and Jon had merely barked “not good enough” before cutting off the comm.

Trip scrubbed a hand over his face out of fatigue and frustration.

“Sir,” said Hess softly, “Why don’t you take a break for a half hour or so? We’re going to need you during the slowdown, but we’ve got you covered until then.”

Trip heard the sympathy in her voice, and he was grateful for it. He was glad of all the support he’d gotten from the crew—something that Jon was denied given that he wasn’t supposed to be involved with T’Pol, even though everyone knew he was. Trip wanted to go comfort him, talk to him.

Instead, he went to his quarters, planning on sitting in the dark and resting until Hess notified him that the slowdown was imminent. He wasn't sure he could take being shut out by Jon yet again any way.

He sat down in his chair and looked out at the stars. T’Pol was a big girl. She was also a Vulcan as well as a former V’Shar agent. She was nobody’s damsel in distress, and she could no doubt take care of herself. As long as the bond hummed in his mind, he told himself everything would be okay.

He closed his eyes, almost feeling like he would fall asleep sitting up. He opened them to find himself in a bright, white room. It reminded him the end of the movie 2001: A Space Odyssey. He must have been dreaming because T’Pol was standing there.

“T’Pol, are you okay?” asked Trip tentatively.

“I am unharmed,” she said, “The Saurians are under the mistaken impression that the Captain offered me as a gift. Apparently females are traded this way in their culture. One of them speaks rudimentary Vulcan, but he discounts my insistence that the Captain did no such thing.”

Trip walked toward her and hugged her tight. She responded, though he could tell that she was more interested in talking.

“How. . .?”

“I believe the bond is asserting itself,” T'Pol replied in anticipation of his question, “You must have been at rest, and I was able to pull you into my mind. This is my meditation space.”

Trip looked around. There wasn’t much to see, so he turned his attention back to her.

“Do you know where they're taking you?”

“Yes,” she said, “To their planet. They do not seem to comprehend I consider myself a prisoner. They believe I should be honored to be such a gift.”

Trip put his hands on her shoulders.

“They haven’t tried anything. . .weird, have they?”

T’Pol shook her head. “Not as of yet. They have only been trying to make me feel comfortable, attempting to adjust the temperature of my quarters and finding me appropriate food. It seems they eat live rodents.”

Trip looked her in the eyes. She wasn’t scared, that he could tell.

“I do not believe it will be difficult to free me once Enterprise has arrived at their homeworld. Unfortunately, I have been unable to discover the coordinates.”

“That’s okay,” replied Trip, “Hoshi’s got ‘em. We’re giving chase. We should catch up with you within hours.”

T’Pol nodded. “Scan the Southern Continent, near the equator. The Saurians told me they would place me there because it is a desert.”

“Will do,” said Trip. “Jon’s gonna be relieved you're okay. You haven’t talked to him, have you?”

“No,” she said, “His mind has not been quiet enough. I believe my abduction has agitated him.”

Trip smirked to himself at her Vulcan understatement.

“Inform him I am well and will do everything I can to assist in my rescue. I do not believe the aliens had ill-intentions. It was simply a cultural misunderstanding.”

Trip nodded. There was silence.

“You need to inform Jonathan,” she said, “You must go.”

Trip inhaled. He didn’t want to let her go, but he knew he had to. As if in answer to his feelings, T’Pol lifted her hand and held forward two fingers. Instinctively, Trip entwined his with hers. This caused the bond to stop flowing and start gushing.

“I will see you soon, Thy’la,” she said.

“I love you, baby,” he said.

“And I you,” she replied before disappearing.

Trip opened his eyes. He was elated that T'Pol was alive and well, but his empty arms ached.

He had to find Jon.

* * *

Trip walked past Hoshi at her comm station, nodding at her.

“How are you doing?” she whispered.

“Hanging in there,” he said. “T’Pol’s more than capable of taking care of herself. She’ll be fine. How’s the Captain?”

Hoshi looked down at her comm console. She never said anything bad about anyone, but the look on her face was telling.

“I’ll go talk to him,” Trip responded.

He rang the chime on the door, and Jon snapped that he should enter. He stepped into the ready room, and Jon was standing at the damn window, the way he always did when he was pissed off at the world.

“She’s okay,” said Trip.

“How are the engines? How long can we sustain this speed?”

Trip sighed. “Not much longer,” he replied, “but I’m not guessing she’s okay. I talked to her.”

Jon turned around and stared at him.

“She contacted me telepathically—through the bond. I went back to my cabin to rest before the slowdown, and suddenly...poof. I’m standing in a white room talking to her. She told me to tell you that she’s okay. She would’ve contacted you, but said your mind wasn’t quiet enough. They haven’t hurt her. It’s just a misunderstanding. They thought you gave her to them.”

Jon grimaced. “Tell Hoshi to get in here. . .”

Trip folded his arms. “You’re not going to take this out on her. You know that this isn’t her fault. She’s the one who got us the coordinates. You should be thanking her for that. T’Pol says that we need to scan the desert of the southern continent when we get there.”

Jon turned back toward the window. “Get back to engineering. I want the slowdown to be short. Once it happens, I want to be back at Warp 4.9 within the hour.”

Trip hesitated. It was tough being so close to the boss, yet letting him be the boss. It was Jon’s ship and Jon’s call.

“Yes, sir,” replied Trip. After a pause, he asked, “You okay?”

“I will be when we get her back,” said Jon without turning around, “Dismissed.”


* * *

Jon felt strange. He thought he should feel something like panic or pain or fear at T’Pol’s loss, but he didn’t. He just felt cold. Determined. He would get her back. As much as he loved her—and he did love her, with every molecule in his body—this didn’t feel so much about that as about losing a vital member of his crew. T’Pol’s organizational skills, her focus and her wisdom were vital to the community that Enterprise had become, and was crucial to their continued survival. No one, least of all him, could afford to lose her. If he failed T'Pol, he failed his crew. If he failed them, the future of Earth was doomed, pure and simple. The fact that the dim-witted aliens could have thought that T'Pol was available for trade, that she would be given away so casually, was a supreme insult on all personal and professional levels.

He would make them understand that.

It was night when Enterprise arrived at the Saurian planet. Scanning the surface for one Vulcan life sign, even though the humanoid population was a mere 500 thousand and scattered in small towns a villages, would take hours.

“It’s possible we’ll just be able to transport her back if we get a strong enough signal,” Trip had told him. “It’ll be very tricky and require us to dip into their atmosphere, which could muck up the impulse engines with all that dust and electromagnetic interference, but it’s a possibility.”

A possibility wasn’t good enough.

When Archer finally appeared on the bridge, he saw that Trip had returned to the bridge after they'd made orbit. He and Travis Mayweather were in the situation room, presumably ironing out the piloting details of T'Pol's retrieval.

“Hoshi,” said Jon calmly, “Contact the head lizard. King. President. Whatever he is. I want to talk to him.”

Hoshi looked up at him apprehensively, but she nodded. “Yes, sir.”

A few moments later, Hoshi informed Archer that she had the Saurians' prime minister for him, and a lizard man appeared on the viewscreen. “Good greeting to you, stranger. How may I help you?”

“Some of your people took my first officer. I want her back. Now.”

The Saurian leader looked puzzled. “I know nothing of this. Private transfers of goods, such as a female, are not in my authority.”

Hoshi cast a glance over at Malcolm.

Travis's eyes flicked nervously up to Trip's face, then back down to his readouts.

“I’ll be very grateful if you assist me in the return of my officer,” Archer continued. “I’m going to have my comm officer transfer all the data you will need to identify her. I expect her safe return within the hour.”

The alien made a strange buzzing noise, and his head wobbled back and forth in a gesture which Jon assumed meant no. “As I said, Good Sir, I have no authority to return your woman. But I can offer you one of ours, if it would please you.”

Jon inhaled and leaned forward. “Malcolm,” he said, “Aim the phase cannons on a medium sized village on the northern continent. I don’t care which.”

Malcolm didn’t move.

“That’s an order, Lieutenant,” said Jon before turning his attention back to the alien, “The phase canons on my ship can easily destroy one of your villages in less than a minute. I’ll order my tactical officer to fire if T’Pol is not returned to us within the hour. I’ll have him destroy another village each half hour until she’s safely returned.”

As Jon cut off the comm, Malcolm slowly began to aim the phase canon and Hoshi turned around. Jon stood up and headed into the ready room.

“Let me know when they return her,” he said.

“Sir,” said Malcolm, “What if they call our bluff?”

Jon paused for a moment, irritation welling up through the coldness. “I’m not bluffing. If she’s not back in within the hour, destroy the village.”

The bridge was silent. Then, Trip stepped out from the situation room, where he had been monitoring the exchange. “Are you crazy?” To Reed, he said, “Belay that order, Malcolm.”

Reed looked confused though visibly relieved as he pulled his hands away from his console.

Archer's head snapped toward the back of the bridge. “In my ready room, Commander.”

The bridge officers looked down at their consoles, not yet daring to be relieved that someone was trying to stop an already bad situation from spiraling out of control.

Behind closed doors, Archer seethed. “What the hell do you think you were doing out there?”

“This isn't the way, Cap'n,” Trip said calmly.

Jon's brow furrowed, pointing to the chair against the wall. “Weren't you the guy sitting over there, demanding that I do something?”

Trip's jaw dropped incredulously. “Murder, Jon? All those innocent citizens who have nothing to do with this? What would T'Pol think? You think she'd want this? Hell, how would you even stand to look at yourself?” He paused. “They haven't hurt T'Pol—yet. But who's to say they won't change their minds if you start firing on their villages? They might kill her because of you!”

“That's enough,” Jon said through clenched teeth. Before Jon realized it, they were standing nearly nose to nose, both their faces flushed with anger and eyes narrowed in determination. The line between officers and lovers was getting more obscured by the second.

“Even if they don't,” Trip snapped, “T'Pol's gonna be ashamed that you did this in her name. I can't believe you'd destroy everything we have just for petty revenge.”

“I said that's enough!”

Trip took a deep breath. “Cap'n, step back for just a second. . .I know you're not the kind of man to kill innocent civilians. I know it even if you don't right now. But if you do try and go through with this, I'll have no choice but to relieve you of command. I'll get Phlox up here to sign off on a medical if I have to.”

Jon seethed quietly for a moment. He had no doubt that Trip would do what he thought he had to do...

...and Jon would do what he had to do. “And you'll leave me no choice but to relieve you of duty if you don't get your ass down to the transporter room and stand by.”

Trip stared at him for a moment.

“That's an order.”

Whether from the menacing quiet of Jon's voice, or from not wanting anyone else at the transporter controls when it came time to retrieve T”Pol, Trip backed out of the room. “This isn't over,” he promised.

Archer rubbed his hands over his face. Once he was certain Trip would be gone from the bridge, he called for a status report.

* * *

Trip stood at the transporter console, worrying that he'd gone too far, threatening to relieve Jon of command if he went through with his plan.

Or maybe I didn't go far enough, he added mentally, thinking of the poor villagers who stood to lose their lives because of a botched trade negotiation that had nothing to do with them.

But Trip didn’t have much time to ponder the situation. He wasn’t at the transporter pad ten minutes when Hoshi called down to him with coordinates for transport. The Saurians had yet to respond to Archer's demands; scans had finally detected Vulcan life signs, and Captain Archer had ordered that they would simply extract T'Pol if they could make it deep enough into the Saurians' atmosphere. Travis would let Trip know when they were clear of the interference.

His hands were sweaty. Everything was royally fucked. T'Pol was gone. Jon was crazy.

And I'm this close to being a mutineer.

Trip sighed. If he could at least get T'Pol back in one piece, the other things had a chance of being okay.

Travis's voice soon startled him out of his reverie. “Now, Commander Tucker. And you'd better hurry, sir—they don't seem to happy that we're taking a closer look. They've sent ships to intercept us, and they're going to start firing on us any minute.”

“Understood,” Trip said into the comm. Though they were through the worst of the atmospheric interference, he still struggled to get a lock. As soon as her signal had been acquired, Trip hurriedly pulled the levers down, and T’Pol materialized on the transporter pad.

Just like that, the crisis was over.

She stepped off the pad as she removed some kind of breathing apparatus, looking cool as a cucumber. Her eyes met his. Trip opened a comm channel to the bridge. “Commander T’Pol is aboard,” he said as she stepped off the pad towards him.

“I am gratified to return safely,” she said.

Trip’s knees nearly buckled at the relief that was still mixed with anger and concern for Jon, but he managed to move forward and pull T’Pol into a hug.

“I’m so glad you are safe,” he said.

She pulled back. “Something is amiss,” she said. “Your mind is troubled.”

Before Trip could answer, explain what had happened, the ship rocked. Apparently, the Saurian interceptors had caught up to them.

His communicator chirped. It was Hess.

“Sir,” she said, “We sure could use your help purging the impulse engines so we can get the hell out of here.”

“Acknowledged,” Trip answered. “I'll be right there.” To T'Pol, he said, “Walk with me.”

En route to engineering, Trip filled her in on everything, from Jon's downward emotional spiral to the point of making questionable command decisions, to his own threat to take command. He felt guilty laying all of it at her feet only minutes after her safe return, but between the bond and her sensitive Vulcan hearing, it would only be a matter of time before she found out, any way.

For her part, T'Pol listened with quiet interest. Other than the occasional question for clarification, her only response was a raised eyebrow. When Trip was finished, she placed a reassuring hand on his arm. “You acted appropriately. I will attempt to discover the root of Jonathan’s behavior so we can help him.”

Trip relaxed visibly. Whether as first officer or wife, he was confident that the situation would get resolved in T'Pol's capable hands. “What can I do to help?”

The hatch to engineering opened to admit Tucker.

“Remain here,” T'Pol said. “The engines require your attention during our departure. In the meantime, I will report to the Captain and try to determine the best course of action.”

Trip nodded. Before she turned to go, he held his two fingers out to her, the way he'd done in the white room vision.

T'Pol's eyes softened into her version of a smile as she brushed her fingers against his.

It was good to have her home.

* * *

T’Pol sat in front of the candle in her quarters, dressed in her silk pajamas and robe. She stared at the flame but she had no desire to meditate. When she'd attempted to report in to the captain, he wouldn't see her; rather, he ordered her to report to Sickbay. Phlox had told her to retire to her quarters to rest; although she was physically unharmed it was always best to take rest after a traumatic experience. She had not bothered arguing with him.

Hours had passed since her return, and she felt uneasy. The crisis with the engines had been averted, thanks to Trip and his team’s competence. They were currently at Warp 3, heading away from her abductors. The ordeal has been mildly unpleasant, but she had certainly experienced worse.

Her mind would not quiet. Despite her assurances that she would resolve the current situation, Trip refused to join her, preferring to keep his hands busy in Engineering as he emotionally decompressed.

She had twice more attempted to contact Jonathan. Twice she had been answered with a standard message saying not to disturb him unless it was an emergency.

Although she was loathe to admit it, she found the messages hurtful.

Firming her resolve, she blew out the flame. It was time to act.

* * *

T'Pol strode into the bridge and saw that Jonathan was not in the captain's chair. She turned to Ensign Sato, who was doing a good job of pretending T'Pol's presence on the bridge in her nightclothes was not at all unusual. Hoshi glanced over to the door of the ready room.

"He's in there, Commander," she said.

T'Pol nodded curtly as she walked toward the door, almost forgetting to ring the chime. She did so, and she heard Jonathan's voice.

"Come," he said.

He was standing at the window, his back to her. As the door closed behind her, she felt a chill in the room, and it wasn't just from the Earth level climate setting.

"I was wondering if you planned to come to bed or if you wished to continue your. . .sulking?" she asked.

He didn't answer, but he did glance back at her very briefly before returning to his original position. She moved into the room and toward him, eventually standing next to him, hands clasped behind her back. She stared out at the stars as he did.

"I left orders I wasn't to be disturbed," he said curtly.

"I didn't realize I was disturbing you," she replied.

Jon turned to her, and she recognized anger in his eyes. It took her a moment to realize that it wasn't directed at her, but at himself.

"The bond between us might have something to do with your inability to keep control of yourself. A Vulcan male would react very much the same in the circumstances you found yourself."

Jon snickered. "I hardly acted like a Vulcan," he snapped.

"No," she said. "You acted like a Vulcan who was not in control of his emotions. The bond predates the time of the Awakening, and you undoubtedly accessed . . .primal expectations deep within my mind."

Jon closed his eyes. "Then how come Trip managed to keep it together?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Trip has been bonded with me for much longer. Additionally, the months of neuropressure—particularly the meditation component of the practice—better prepared him for dealing with the bond.”

Jon slumped slightly, his expression wounded.

T'Pol reached for Jonathan's hand, turned it palm-side up. She watched his expression for change as she applied pressure to the contact points responsible for calming. “The duration of one bond does not invalidate the other. That you and I are bonded at all should be evidence enough of that.”

The corner of Jonathan's mouth twitched slightly. He seemed to visibly relax; whether it was from the abbreviated neuropressure or her attempt to bolster his ego she was unsure, due to her lack of experience with the latter.

When he finally spoke, his words lacked their previous edge. “You weren't in danger until I put you there. My crew watched me come unglued. And Trip...” He trailed off, defeat overtaking his features.

Yet, he still clutched her hand. The bond energy hummed between them, and she felt his anger give way to confusion. He ached with a primal need, something akin to what Trip had felt all those months ago when he visited her in her cabin. She knew Jonathan needed her.

As though he understood that she comprehended this, he shifted his grip so he could hold her hand tightly. He pulled her toward him and covered her mouth with his. She opened to him, allowing the energy to swirl around her as his tongue explored her mouth. A corresponding ache appeared between her legs, and she melted into to him.

Their hands roamed as they desperately clutched at each other. Jonathan's hands shoved at the waistband of her pajama bottoms, easily shoving them past her hips. She let out a ragged sigh as his fingers sought the damp heat between her legs, teasing and caressing her.

T'Pol stepped out of her bottoms as she backed Jonathan toward his desk. Walking on tip-toe, she continued her explorations of his mouth, pulling on the zipper of his uniform as they moved. PADDs and other items went clattering to the floor as Jonathan slid onto the surface. T'Pol reached in, one hand trailing upward under his shirt, the other pushing into his underwear, seeking the velvety coolness of his erection.

Jonathan groaned as she massaged him, and her other hand enjoyed the taut feel of his chest, stopping briefly to pinch his nipples. Jonathan shifted, forcing her to stop her movements as he placed her in position above him. Knees on either side of him on the desk, T'Pol guided him inside her and she was impaled upon him. She gasped at the feel of him.

He had his hands on her hips, but he shifted one so that his thumb brushed against her clitoris each time she moved against him. The pressure built quickly inside her.

The thought that they should not be doing this in his ready room, with the bridge officers only steps away flickered through her mind. It was a violation of the rules they themselves had set, yet rather than cool her desire the thought inflamed it.

"I'm close," she whispered in his ear.

He smiled at her, and moved his hips faster, forcing her to do the same. Soon enough, she cried out and he muffled the sound with a kiss. Their connection was so great that he climaxed almost immediately afterward, sighing breathlessly against her.

"Are you feeling better?" she asked when she had sufficiently recovered.

"Yes," he said, "Yes I am."

She was satisfied with the answer, but her mind turned to Trip and the pain he was still in. Beneath the euphoria that flowed between her and Jonathan, Trip's anger and confusion was still there.

T'Pol rested her head against Jonathan's shoulder, deriving comfort from their closeness as her body slowly returned to normal. “You need to reconcile things with Trip.” Her voice had a vulnerable quality that surprised even her.

Jonathan caressed her back tenderly, his fingers finally meandering up her neck and into her hair. “I know. And I will.”

“Tonight.”

He pulled back from her just enough to look her in the eyes. “Are you alright? Really?” He brushed a thumb tenderly over her cheek. “I'm sorry. It hasn't been easy, has it?”

T'Pol tried to formulate an appropriate response, but she had none. Trip was better suited toward the emotional maintenance of their relationship; she felt grossly inadequate.

“Tonight, I promise,” Jonathan said, pressing a kiss into her forehead. “Just...let me freshen up first.”

T'Pol nodded, relieved. “Agreed.”

* * *

The sight of Jon's door filled Trip with trepidation. T'Pol had summoned him here, presumably to force an intervention. He wasn't sure he was ready for that. In fact, he was pretty sure he'd prefer to stay good and pissed for a while. Jon had crossed a line.

Sure, Trip had been ready to do anything—anything—to get T'Pol back safely...but as soon as he knew that she was unharmed and didn't feel any sort of threat, cold-blooded murder seemed a little excessive. That, and the fact that such a rash action could've compromised T'Pol's safety was just...

Insane? Inexcusable? Selfish?

Trip took a deep breath, his fingers hovering over the keypad beside the door. It was too soon for this. Trip was normally pretty laid-back, but for now he still had a right cross with Jon's name on it. He still needed time to cool off.

Trip knew the entry code, and he had entered Jon’s quarters countless times without ringing. But he rang the chime, and his heart beat nervously. The door opened and he stepped inside.
T’Pol was standing there in her nightclothes and Jon was seated nearby, also in his nightclothes.

Definitely not a business meeting, he thought.

“Evenin’” he said to both of them.

“I asked you here so you and Jonathan could resolve the conflict produced by my abduction,” said T’Pol.

Trip sighed as the door shut behind him. Even after all these years among humans, she didn’t waste time with small talk. Trip quickly glanced over at Jon, but quickly fixed his eyes on her.

“I theorize that you both were bombarded with subconscious instincts through the bond. Thanks to your experience with neuropressure and meditation, you were able to channel them more appropriately. Although, it is my understanding you, too, were quite agitated.”

Trip nodded, but did not respond. Nor did he look at Jonathan, though he felt the other man’s eyes on him.


T’Pol continued. “Jonathan’s mind, however, did not have the necessary grounding to keep the impulses at bay. His anger was his own, but the bond energy fed it and amplified it. But with our help, he will be able to avoid this in the future.”

Trip rubbed at his temples, trying to digest everything T'Pol was saying. When she'd explained the bond to them weeks ago, she'd apparently forgotten to mention the part about him and Jon hosing down the decks with testosterone the minute there was any perceived threat against her. Still, he had his doubts. Jon was the captain; he couldn't go off all hell-bent on revenge, endangering the woman they loved and the crew right along with her, not to mention countless innocent people.

“You were way out of line,” Trip said, finally looking Jonathan in the eye. “If anything happened to her, I never would've forgiven you.”

“I know,” Jon murmured, eyes downcast.

There was tense silence until T’Pol stepped between them. She bridged the space, putting one hand in Trip’s and reaching for Jon. He stood, taking her hand. Trip felt her doing something with her mind. . .calm took over. Then, she let go.

T'Pol stepped away, and Jon stood before Trip. Jon was looking at him, the anger from before gone from his features. He lifted his hand up and brushed Trip's cheek. Instinctively, Trip lifted his own hand and moved Jon's palm to his mouth and kissed it, finally seeing the other man's pain through his own.

“I didn't mean...” Jon stammered. “I'm—I'm sorry.”

Regret and forgiveness squeezed Trip's heart as he stood there, clutching Jon's hand against his face. “I know.”

Jon's other hand went around Trip's back, pulling him into an embrace. Trip's drew his arms around Jon, hugging him close for a moment before lifting his head to meet Jon's lips in a kiss.

The kiss was deep and slow, with Jon's tongue exploring Trip's mouth. It went on and on before Jon broke away for a moment to smile softly and look into his eyes. Trip felt himself get hard, and he ached to feel Jon touching his bare skin.

Jon grasped the zipper tab of Trip's uniform. Never breaking eye contact, he pulled it down slowly, not releasing it until it was all the way to the end. Trip shivered as the warmth of Jon's hand slid its way in, past the fabric of the jumpsuit and beneath the waistband of his Starfleet blues.

Trip kept his eyes locked with Jon's as he felt the older man's hand grasp his cock, and he groaned. He wanted to touch Jon's bare skin, so he reached down and grabbed the edge of his shirt.

Jon let go of him long enough to help Trip pull off the shirt. Trip smiled at the revelation of Jon's bare chest. He'd always secretly admired it, and now he got to touch it. He ran his hands lovingly over Jon's cut muscles, and Jon kissed him again. This time,Trip slid his tongue inside Jon's mouth, exploring gently.

Jon began slowly stroking Trip's cock beneath his underwear, alternately building and soothing the ache inside. The kiss broken, Trip rested his head on Jon's bare shoulder, breathing in Jon's earthy scent as he gasped shakily.

Impatient with the remaining barriers between them, Trip shrugged out of the sleeves of his uniform. Jon released Trip’s cock to slide his fingers along Trip's sides, catching the hem of Trip's shirt layer and pulling it up over his head. Having flung the garment across the room, his arms slithered down to push the uniform past the younger man's hips. Trip was already kicking his boots off as he stepped out of the pant legs.

Trip brought his arms down around Jon's shoulders, trying to pull him impossibly close. Capturing him in another searing kiss, Jon returned his grasp to Trip's swollen cock, resuming his tender and leisurely pace. Trip slid his tongue inside Jon's mouth, mimicking the same rhythm Jon was using on him.

Jon gently pushed Trip toward the bed. Trip moved backwards onto the mattress, taking Jon with him. Trip reveled in the feeling of strong, male hands on him as Jon's erection teased him through the soft fleece of his sweat pants. It still thrilled and frightened Trip all at once, how he needed and enjoyed the weight of the other man's body on him—how inconceivable a thought it was to not have moments like this with Jon any more. Trip realized he’d been nearly as angry about Jon risking their connection as he had been about Jon needlessly risking T’Pol’s life.

Trip searched Jon's eyes and found a desperate plea for understanding and forgiveness.

Jon trailed a finger along the side of Trip's face. “It'll never happen again,” he said softly. “From now on, I promise to take care of both of you the way I'm supposed to. No more crazy stuff.”

Trip believed him. Whether because of T'Pol's infusion of bond energy or because of his own need to heal these recent emotional bruises, Trip knew that he needed the reassurance of being touched by as much of Jon as possible.

With a swift motion he tugged Jon's sweats past his hips. Trip moaned softly at the friction against his body as Jon wiggled the rest of the way out of them. Trip's fingers alternately caressed and dug into Jon's now-exposed backside, pulling him even closer. Jon’s hard cock pressed against Trip’s naked skin.

Trip was vaguely aware of T'Pol a few feet away. She watched with great interest, though she made no move to join her lovers. Trip looked up at her through half-open eyes. He wanted to beckon her over, though he was so caught up in the feel of Jon's soft kisses along his neck. T'Pol's only reaction was a distinct nod that he should continue. It was the last thing he saw before his eyes fluttered shut as Jon's mouth descended upon his for another kiss.

Trip shifted, his hand seeking Jon's hardened cock. He briefly considered going down on the other man, but the need to feel Jon's heart beating into his and the heat of his breath grazing his shoulder was too great. They lay there facing each other, both with one arm hooked around the other pulling each other close, while each stroked and caressed his partner with the other hand. Trip had no idea how much time passed as they pleasured each other amidst kisses peppered with unintelligible murmurs of need and devotion; he just knew he wanted it to go on forever. All too soon, he and Jon were shuddering, grunting in ecstasy as they spilled onto each other. Jon collapsed against him.

Trip's pulse still thundered in his ears as he and Jon kissed and caressed, every fiber of his being deliciously alive at the other man's touch. As their bodies began to return to normal, reality slowly began to poke tiny holes into the delicate fabric of his post-coital high.

T'Pol was suddenly at their side with a towel. The corner of her mouth was slightly upturned, the amusement in her eyes unmistakable to her mates. “Am I correct in assuming we can now consider this matter settled?”

Trip's mind was slow to clear as he struggled to recognize the object she held, let alone what he should do with it. Thankfully, Jon reached across, grabbed it and began mopping off their bodies. When he finished, he tossed the towel aside, disengaging from Trip to make just enough space for one slender Vulcan between them. “T'Pol...” Jon began apologetically.

Trip shifted, motioning for her to crawl over him and join them. “We're sorry, baby. We didn't want to leave you out. We just...”

As T'Pol nestled between them, her mates made quick work of liberating her from her silky blue pajamas. “The two of you had important issues to resolve,” she answered quite reasonably. “It behooved me to not interfere.” With that, her bare form was swallowed up by their embrace.

Trip and Jon met at her mouth, three tongues gently tangling amidst tenderly nibbling lips. T'Pol's chest heaved as her breathing quickened with desire. Though recently spent, Trip had to admit he, too, was still feeling a little frisky.

Jon broke the kiss, his eyes sparkling as they flicked back and forth from Trip to T'Pol. The intensity of his voice belied the soft smile on his lips. “I know I don't say it enough,” he whispered, “but I love you both.”

T'Pol blinked slowly. “It's unnecessary to verbalize that which is self-evident,” she answered softly.

Trip suppressed a chuckle at Jon's widening grin. He pressed a kiss into T'Pol's hair. “Maybe...but you have to admit, it is kind of nice to hear it sometimes.”

“Agreed,” T'Pol said after brief consideration.

John laughed softly as he leaned down first to kiss T'Pol, then Trip.

Trip enjoyed Jon's kiss for a moment, before he leaned over and kissed T'Pol in turn. He looked her up and down, reveling in each one of the precious curves he had missed so much. One of his hands moved up and caressed her pointed ear, and she shivered slightly. He got a kick out of how sensitive they were.

"You do love her ears, don't you?" asked Jon, teasing.

Trip smiled. "Don't you?" he replied, tracing his tongue on one of the pointed tips.

Jon leaned very close, as if he were about to kiss T'Pol, before answering. "But I must admit, I'm partial to her lips — especially when they are swollen from kisses," he said, and instead of kissing her, he traced her lips with one finger.

T'Pol had closed her eyes. She wasn't blushing, but Trip knew that lavishing such praise on a woman wasn't particularly Vulcan. He glanced at Jon, who was clearly recognizing the same thing.

"You're just going to have to get used to our compliments, T'Pol," said Jon, "We can't help ourselves."

Trip chuckled. "That's what you get for falling in love with a pair of primitive humans," said Trip, "So primitive, they admire all sorts of things about you."

As if to punctuate that, Trip reached down and squeezed her luscious ass. He honestly wasn't sure if he liked the ears or the ass better.

Trip had a sudden urge to admire that ass a little more closely. He shifted T'Pol so she lay on her side, backside toward him. He began peppering kisses down her warm spine, dropping a particularly long on on the small of her back before wiggling down further and kissing her ass. He ran his finger leisurely over the curves, feeling his cock stir slightly.

"Well," said Jon, "Her ass is beautiful, but I prefer her breasts."

Trip looked up and saw Jon plant a few kisses on her neck before starting to gently suckle and tease her breasts.

T'Pol's body was limp and her eyes closed. The bond energy flowed at a low hum, and Trip understood how much she was enjoying herself.

He also felt how much she was enjoying it as his fingers slipped between her legs and found she was wet and quivering. He remembered fondly that she had generously let her two mates love each other, and that it was time she was rewarded.

He began to caress her with more purpose, and she responded with a long, soft moan.

Jon lifted his head and looked up at her, then down at Trip. He smiled, just slightly.

Trip parted her legs wider with his hands and moved further down the bed, so much so that his legs were no longer on the bed and he was more beneath her than next to her. He slowly ran his tongue along her opening until it reached her clitoris. He looked up and saw Jon beckoning him. Trip understood.

He shifted his legs upward toward Jon, and he continued to ravish T'Pol with his tongue as he felt Jon's lips around his cock. Trip's entire body melted at the dual sensations, and he fought to be able to keep enough control to keep pleasuring T'Pol while enjoying Jon's onslaught. T'Pol shifted slightly in response, and Trip glanced up to see her taking Jon's cock in her mouth.

The three of them turned into a conduit for each other's pleasure, giving and taking in equal measure. The telepathic link between the three of them flowed as freely and as easily as their caresses.

Jon skillfully used his hands and mouth on Trip, and soon he felt his balls tighten. Trip knew he was going to come, but he sensed T'Pol's impeding climax as well. Her flesh quivered and her thighs trembled as Trip continued to use his tongue on her. Finally, he went over the edge, triggering her climax and in turn triggering Jon's—the perfect balance of their bond creating unison.

The three of them lay there for a long time, enjoying the silence as the bond still hummed gently. Eventually, Trip shifted and moved up the bed. Jon flipped himself around and pulled Trip into a spoon position. Trip pulled T'Pol against his chest and held her that way as they all drifted into sleep.