Welcome to WIPpet Wednesday, a weekly blog hop which encourages writers to move WIPs (works-in-progress) to publication by posting excerpts related to the date. It’s hosted by the lovely K.L. Schwengel, maven of bad boys, stock dogs, and flying monkeys!
Three weeks ago, Trip and T’Pol talked idiomatically. This week, a conversational quagmire…
- Today is January 7, 2015.
- Math: 6 paragraphs, 7 for the date, minus 1 for the first WIPpet of the year!
This story is an add-on scene for the pilot episode: “Broken Bow Part 1”. I‘ve done my best to extrapolate without violating series canon.
“T’Pol, did you just – uhhh, proposition me?” She only stood there, watching me, her low-grade quiver seeming to move through the air, somehow, and transmit itself to me, and a shiver of anticipation went through me, almost like she was still touching me. Damn, she was intoxicating! “All right then. This is what I propose – whatever this is, let’s take some time to explore it, once we’re back on the ship, where we can have that door, and a bed that’ll do, even if it’s not as comfortable or as big as I’d like.” She took in a sharp breath, which seemed to echo through me, resonating with her vibrations. I wanted to know what she was thinking – I waned to pull her to me, right here and now, bed and door be damned…T’Pol made a soft guttural little sound. As much to distract myself and fill the silence as to convince her, I kept on talking, as though I didn’t know how to stop. “Without you calling him up to remind him of protocol every step of the way, the Cap’n’s bound to get suspicious sooner or later, and then he’ll come find us and get her out of here.” Watch. Quiver. Her breath prickled my neck hairs, and I was breathing faster now, too. Why the hell wasn’t she saying anything? Why the hell why wasn’t I shutting up? “And then, – as soon as we’re both free -“
She flinched bodily, shaking, flinging her head to the side as she gasped – and, too late, I stopped vomiting words at her. She’d damned near thrown me to the floor, grinding against me in a way that said, without doubt that she wanted me – or did it? Did any of this -whatever it was – mean anything to her? Did it mean what it meant to me – this whatever-it-was? She’s a Vulcan, Tucker – not a human. You could be reading her all wrong. I didn’t know how, exactly, but I could feel, T’Pol – closing off? No, not that, or not exactly. More like she was backing away, in her mind – from me, or what I said, or how she’d responded, or takig that next step that she seemed both to want and to be afraid of…I needed more information before I could figure out the problem, and what to do about it. Softly, I said, “What’s wrong, T’Pol?”
Her eyes were doing that nervous little sideways skitter again, so I knew I hadn’t imagined it. I stayed pu, even though my brain was screaming at me to go to her, the way I’d go to a human woman who looked that upset. Maybe it was stupid, to press this any further, but I couldn’t just stand there while she looked so miserable and vulnerable. I stuck my tongue in my cheek and watched her pretending she had control of herself, and then said, “Look, I get it – we’re essentially strangers to each other. But something’s bothering you about what I said, or what I did, and I don’t see anyone else here for you to talk to. Besides, we’ve already covered a lot of ground, for strangers – and, believe it or not, T’Pol, I like you. If I’ve hurt you, or upset you – “
“It’s not that we’re strangers, Trip.” It was a whisper that held too many things to name – but I thought there was fear, yearning, shock, wonder,,. “It’s that we’re not -” She frowned a little, turning to face me agian, and her gaze climbed slowly up my chest. She made it to my chin before it flinched away again. “From the first moment I saw you – ” She shook her head, and stared at my mouth, and I wondered if she knew she was licking her lovely lips. “I am a Vulcan, Trip. I’m not free. I’m intended to feel what I feel for you. I am most certainly not intended to act upon those feelings…”. She jerked her eyes up to fix them on mine, and then her stare swept my body, avid and hungry. “And yet, I don’t know how to stop feeling, or acting – and, if I did, I’m uncertain that I would choose to.”
“So I’m imbalancing your systems.” She made a tiny motion that might be a nod. “You know, you’ve thrown me out of whack too – I never met another Vulcan who looked like you, smelled like you – turned me on the way you do…” I trailed off, again, because her eyes suddenly focused on mine, and I was falling in, even from across the room. How could she do that just by looking at me?
“Trip – there are – ” She swallowed, and strode across the room to stand close enough to touch again. Her hand lifted, those fingers pairing, and she brushed the backs of them light and swift as a pulsebeat along my jaw. Her fingers trembled; so did her breath. “There are other…extenuating circumstances…” She stared at her fingers, and I breathed in her delicious smoky citrus scent and tried to keep hold of my circulatory system for once. She frowned at her shaking hand, and didn’t look at me. “I should not have allowed this…”
What is this? And what are T’Pol’s extenuating circumstances?
Come back next week to find out more!