SIXTEEN

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The two families piled into the lightship, carrying food supplies and water. Nevro stood to one side, watching them and thanking the engineering crewmembers as they said their goodbyes to the tall blond lady.

She looked to the other side of the ship, watching Archer pretend he wasn't watching her. She waved him over, studying his weary expression.

"Don't be sad," she smiled. "We knew I would leave soon."

"Yes, we did," he allowed. "It's… been a pleasure, Nevro."

She gazed up at him, appreciating the soft eyes and worried look about him. "Thank you, Jonathan. For your help, and your time, and your consideration."

"Thanks for not giving Porthos that cheese hidden in the cupboard," he smiled. "A lesser woman would have given in."

She chuckled slightly. "He is lovely. Take care of him."

"Of course."

She put her hand to the gold strip in his uniform, tracing it across him to his shoulder. "And look after yourself."

"I'll try."

She grinned up at him and then pulled on the blue cotton. He leaned down and she kissed him, conscious of it being her last chance. At last she pushed him away, loathe to leave his eyes so soon.

"I wish we had more time," he managed, his voice barely a whisper. She opened her mouth to agree.

A squeal of delight shattered her thoughts and they looked up quickly to find Pell streaking out from the ship. They turned quickly, Nevro letting her hand drop, to see her fly into the chief engineer with a thump.

"Commander Tucker!" she peeled.

The Starfleet officer began to laugh, picking her up and sitting her on his arm. "Hey there, missy. You didn't think you could sneak off without saying goodbye, did you?" he grinned.

"You only came cos you want my jumja stick," she teased, poking him in the chest.

"Well, yeah, but I thought you wouldn't work that out. You're a smart one," he sighed ruefully, pulling at her nose. She wriggled and laughed, looking over his shoulder.

"Where's Miss T'Pol? I got something for her, too," she said. She looked at the faces of Hoshi and Malcolm, apparently surprised by her affection for the engineer.

"Oh, she's around somewhere," Trip allowed. "You all ready to go?"

"Yeah," she sighed sadly. "You sure you won't come with us?"

"Awww - you've got enough people in there already," he said warmly. "You look after your cousin, y'hear me? And your uncle and your mom. And if you need summin', you send a message to Starfleet with my name on it and Enterprise. They'll know how to find me."

"Yes sir," she grinned, tossing off a jaunty salute. "Now, slave, let me down so I can get my presents."

"Yes sir," he parroted, setting her on the ground again. She turned and tore off into the ship.

Hoshi pushed at Trip's shoulder and he looked at her. "What?"

"You sweet on her?" she teased.

"Give over, Hoshi. I should ask if you've said goodbye to Gree yet - you were quite cosy last time I heard," he shot back with a wicked smile.

Hoshi looked at Malcolm's quizzical expression. "He's joking, Lieutenant," she sighed, rolling her eyes.

Malcolm put his hands up. "It's only official intel if I hear it first, remember," he allowed.

She looked round him. "Oh, there they are - Gree and Metarh. I have to thank them for teaching me Bajoran." She skipped round them and disappeared.

Malcolm and Trip approached Nevro and the Captain, nodding politely.

"All ready then?" Malcolm asked.

"We are. Thank you for your patience with all those tours, Mister Reed," she smiled. "You have been most kind."

"Oh, think nothing of it, Miss Bahla," he replied with a smile. "It made a change from detail cleaning weapons systems."

She looked at Trip. "Please thank Ms Hess for me," she said.

"I will," he nodded. "Have a safe trip. And… I hope these Prophets of yours give you good news."

"Thank you," she grinned. "Where is T'Pol? I thought she would be here."

"Me too," Trip shrugged. "Maybe she just doesn't want to say goodbye."

"I apologise for my tardiness," came an arch interruption, and they turned to see T'Pol crossing the last few feet to them, hands behind her back. "Miss Bahla. I would like to extend hope that your encounter all you all looking for, and that one day you may return to this ship."

Nevro caught her eye, nodding, even as the other Starfleet officers blinked in surprise. Nevro looked up at Archer.

"Well then - Miss Bahla," Trip said cheerfully, "we'll say goodbye and wish you happy trails."

"Thank you," she nodded, not looking away from the Captain.

Trip laid a heavy hand on Malcolm's shoulder and inserted the other into the crook of T'Pol's elbow, backing away quickly. He let them go and the three of them turned away, heading toward the lightship.

"Here!" Pell called. "Here, Commander Tucker - your jumja stick!"

They turned and little Pell bumped into him, clutching a white bag upside down on a stick. She held it out to him bravely. "I hope you like it."

"I'm sure I will," he said, crouching down and taking it from her slowly. "Thank you, very much, Pell. This is the most excitin' thing anyone's ever given me."

She threw her arms round his neck, squeezing.

"Little air," he gasped. She chuckled and let him go, watching him straighten again. Then she looked at Malcolm.

"Hi," she said shyly, waving her fingers at him.

"Hello again, young miss," he grinned. "Have a safe journey."

"We will," she winked. She turned to the Vulcan, watching her with her hands behind her back. "Miss T'Pol, I got you something. Hope you like it."

T'Pol appeared mildly surprised as Pell stepped forward and put her hand out. T'Pol looked at Trip for a second before cupping both her hands under the child's with a marked lack of confidence. Pell pulled her hand away to reveal a tiny, shiny stone sparkling in T'Pol's hands.

"It is very striking," she observed, her eyes glued to it. She tilted her hands slightly to watch it sparkle. "What is it?"

"It's a hope stone," she grinned. "You only get them in the Fire Caves on Bajor. I had it so every day I could wish on it. I used to wish for my Daddy to come back."

T'Pol straightened, regarding the child with grave attention. "And you do not wish for this any more?"

"No. I wish… I can't tell you, it won't come true," she said shyly, but her little face turned red as she looked at Trip. He just blinked, oblivious.

The Vulcan noticed and turned back to look at Pell. "Am I to wish on this too?"

"Of course. Anything you like. I thought you might wish for…" She looked at the two men nervously, then waved the Vulcan down to her height. T'Pol obliged by crouching down, not even flinching as the girl cupped her hand round her ear and whispered into it.

T'Pol nodded. "It is not certain if two races can achieve this."

Pell watched her, biting her lip, then leaned forward and spoke again. This time it was loud enough for the two men to hear too.

"Sometimes it's ok to wish for things people say you're not allowed to have. My mom says that's how the Prophets let us explore the stars and invent lightships all that time ago. Cos we wished for stuff we weren't supposed to have."

T'Pol's head turned and the two females shared a long, understanding look.

Trip and Malcolm sniffed self-consciously and looked at each other, before studying their boots.

T'Pol straightened slowly, watching Pell carefully. "Wishing is an illogical mechanism for attempting to justify the baseless chase for the unattainable," the Vulcan said slowly.

Pell blinked up at her, and her smile turned a little devious.

"Wishing is the first step in thinking you want something after all. Then you make plans and you get it. We have to have it, or we go backwards and end up like palukoos again - just living and not getting any better." She folded her little arms.

The men grinned but made sure the Vulcan couldn't see it.

"I cannot fault your logic, or your choice of wish for me. It is an inestimable agreeable wish."

Pell grinned. "Well then - hope it comes true for you! See you later!"

"Safe journey, squirt," Trip winked. She waved at them all but T'Pol suddenly raised her hand, her fingers splitting down the middle in a very formal salute.

"Peace and long life, Bahla Pell," she said, and there could have been a tiny hint of warmth in there.

Pell stared, then nodded shyly. She turned, running to the ship behind her.

"So, T'Pol," Malcolm said quietly. "What did Pell think you should wish for?"

"I cannot reveal it. It would not come true," she said archly.

Malcolm and Trip shared a disbelieving glance before the tactical officer's gaze went over the engineer's shoulder. He nudged him meaningfully and Trip turned in time to see Archer kissing Nevro a goodbye.

"You know, he did have a dicky shoulder last week," Malcolm said politely, managing to sound smug without the attached smile. "Maybe she's just neuropressuring his shoulder."

"Neuropressure my ass," Trip snorted. T'Pol caught his eye and his grin dropped like a stone. "Oh no, wait, that's not what I--"

"Commander," Malcolm interjected quickly.

Trip turned as Captain Archer approached, watching them all. "Well?" he asked. "Everyone out, they're about to leave."

Engineers and officers alike cleared the cargo bay, heading up to the Mess Hall in a rush. They barely had time to crowd to the window before the lightship gracefully appeared below the assembled Starfleet crew and single Vulcan.

"You think they'll be alright?" Malcolm worried, biting his lip. "I should have given them weapons."

"Their gods will protect them," T'Pol observed quietly.

"Shoulda given them weapons," Trip muttered.

They watched the ship turn as if it had all the time in the world, the sails unfurling as they strained to catch the tachyon eddies swirling invisibly around the two ships.

"And there they go," Archer sighed.

The ship began to distance itself from Enterprise, turning and pointing away from them.

"I hope she finds what she's looking for," the Captain added.

Malcolm regarded him in silence, before looking back to the window. Trip felt his face frozen in some expression of sympathy, wondering if he dare put his hand on his Captain's shoulder in front of so many assembled crew. He felt a sigh escape his nose and then his eyes settled on the glass. He realised he was looking directly at T'Pol's reflection. Her eyes were obviously focused on his reflection, and he suddenly felt for all the worlds like a diagram in a science book - one captioned 'Deduce the emotion from all assembled'.

The ship disappeared into the blackness of space and they all stood back from the window. Engineers and lesser officers began to drift out of the Mess Hall. Trip decided he wasn't moving until Archer did, and it appeared Malcolm wasn't leaving until Trip's feet made a move. T'Pol appeared to be more interested in the three men and their tiny bubble of mixed emotions than in covering for her near-open curiosity.

It was silent, the four officers apparently still watching the stars. Standing so close to each other, they could not have felt further apart.

Archer looked down forlornly, catching sight of the covered jumja stick still in Trip's hand.

"You going to eat that or just carry it around like Porthos with my slipper?" he said, with an attempt to be cheerful.

Trip raised his hand, pulling the white bag off the top. Underneath was a glistening, dark purple rocketship-shaped mountain of candy-like perfection. His mouth dropped open and Archer turned to look at him and his prize properly. Trip couldn't see it, but the Captain's face almost registered happiness at the look on his engineer's face.

Malcolm was grinning too. "Well go on then. What's it like?"

Trip looked at him, then at Archer. He swung his gaze round until it encountered the Vulcan. She simply tilted her head slightly, her eyebrow slowly raising in apparent impatience.

He stuck his tongue out, sliding it over the jumja stick slowly. He brought his tongue back home, swishing it round a little as if tasting bourbon, before his eyes widened.

"It's great!" he judged with a grin, sticking his tongue out and licking it again. "We should - get these - for everyone - in the Mess," he added, around his eager ministrations.

Archer rolled his eyes. "Not everyone goes nuts for candy," he allowed. He patted his friend on the shoulder, then let go quickly as Trip pushed nearly the entire sweet treat in his mouth, sucking on it as if it were an addictive ice-lolly. "Don't go mad, Commander. You might get a sugar rush."

"If I can eat," Trip mumbled round a mouthful of juice, "Chef's pecan pie with the amount of sugar he fits into it, then I can," he licked it again, "sure take whatever this little thing can dole out."

"Right," Archer hedged dubiously, suddenly and vehemently wishing a stomach-ache from Hell on his chief engineer as he turned and walked out.

T'Pol regarded the Commander for a moment as he licked the jumja stick, before he shoved it back in his mouth. His eyes flicked up and he realised he was being watched.

"What?" he mouthed past the large dessert still inserted in his piehole. He raised his eyebrows at T'Pol. She stared back.

Eventually, she and Malcolm exchanged a glance that included an eye-roll and a sigh, respectively. Malcolm shook his head and turned, disappearing out of the Mess Hall. The Vulcan swayed herself round, her hands behind her back, about to follow.

"T'Pol," Trip called suddenly, and she turned back to find him sucking juice off his own lip.

"Yes, Commander?"

He appeared to be struggling to cope with the amount of juice he had in his mouth, but he did battle and swallowed it as fast as he dared. He held the stick out slightly. "Wanna lick?"

She regarded him for a long moment, conscious that he had no idea the tempting target in front of her that he thought was restricted to the sweet he was waving.

"C'mon, just one," he teased, his grin wide and stealing all the limelight from the strange new foodstuff.

She turned and strode up to him, pausing close enough to smell the stick, even by human standards. She eyed the jumja stick, then turned her face to his.

"You want me," she stated coldly, "to put my tongue on a food item you have already…" she paused, lost for words, it seemed, her gaze ranging up over Trip's shoulder for a second. "On a food item you have already slobbered over?"

"What's the matter, afraid ya might catch something?" Trip grinned maliciously.

"The food has been through several bio-filters and checked by Phlox. There is no reason to suggest that it harbours dangerous pathogens."

"So you're upset cos I licked it first."

"I am not upset. I am deterred by the knowledge that you have, as you say, transferred your own fluids to it."

"Do you have to put it like that, T'Pol? I only licked it--"

"You managed to insert half of the jumja stick in your mouth, Commander. Twice," she warned, a stern eyebrow arching at him.

"And that's just one o' my many skills," he grinned proudly. "It really is good, y'know. You're missing a helluva thing, here."

"So I have come to realise."

She eyed him, and he was suddenly aware that she wasn't even looking at the stick as her eyes ran up to his hair and then down over his face. He blinked, his eyebrows hunkering down and both lips going out in a no-nonsense deep-thought manoeuvre that apparently caught her attention. She stared openly for a long moment, before tilting her head to sway it away from his gaze. His face cleared.

"So you want to try it, or not? C'mon, I promise I haven't slobbered anything on it that you haven't tried before," he dared with a cheeky wink.

Her mouth opened to remonstrate him, and he stood ready to argue her next point. But then it closed again. She looked around the Mess Hall carefully, finding them completely alone.

"Point taken," she acceded, and he gasped at her in shock.

She stepped closer, her nose coming up to the jumja stick. He pushed it out toward her and she paused, regarding it closely. Very slowly, she put her hand up to his wrist. She pulled his hand closer to her face. She made sure the jumja stick was as close to her as possible before turning her back to him slightly, pushing her tongue out and against the stick. She swept her mouth right up to the top before bringing it away.

"Sweet, isn't it?" he agreed. "We should swing by this Bajor planet and get us a truckload."

She swirled the exotic taste round her mouth, deciding it was extremely agreeable indeed. She pulled on his hand again, licking at the side of the odd new foodstuff and leaning away once more, considering the taste, tilting her head toward him in deference to not wishing to pull on his arm.

"I didn't know Vulcans had a sweet tooth," he teased, but his voice was quiet, soft. "Oop," he said quickly, noticing the burst of flavour had caused the same mouth-watering sensation in the science officer as it had in him the first time he had tried it. Without thinking he put his left hand up, his first two fingers resting on her jaw as his thumb wiped the dark fruit juice from her bottom lip.

She froze at his touch, and that was when he realised what he had done. He halted, wondering what his next move should be.

"Uh-oh," he moaned. "And there I go again, doing human things Vulcans don't agree with."

His guilty eyes and even more culpable, slanted eyebrows made the blood rush to her ears. He drew his hand back hurriedly, but she grasped his wrist and pushed both of his hands wider apart. He had time to draw in a breath to question her before she leaned against his front and kissed him.

An unexpectedly powerful minute later and she pulled her head back, looking up at him with large hazel eyes that suggested a hint of amusement.

"You assume too much, Commander," she advised. She let her hand drop from his left wrist, but he noticed she still had a tight hold on his other one.

"Yeah," he managed. "Must stop doing that. Leaves me lookin' like an ass." Here we go. She's trying it out, and now she'll leave me here, with just my dessert and hopes around my ankles, he thought sourly.

"It would be prudent to repair to crew quarters," she added quietly.

"Your place or mine?" he managed, his eyes whirling with surprise, disbelief - and enthusiasm.

"Mine."

"Don't tell me - we got Vulcan neuropressure to perform." She's gonna let you down again, Trip.

"I believe the correct response would be 'my ass'," she replied thoughtfully.

His eyes widened as thoughts went through his head at at least warp five. His shocked blue eyes darted from hers to the sweet still in his captured hand. He cleared his throat, determined to sound as nonchalant as possible. "What about ma jumja stick?" he dared.

"Bring it," she commanded, letting go of him and turning away quickly. "We shall not let it go to waste."

Trip's grin broadened until it could have rivalled Phlox's at full stretch. He looked at the stick, licked it thoughtfully, and followed with a spring in his step.

"Hey, T'Pol!" he called wickedly, joining her at the doors. She paused to look up at him.

"Commander?"

"If you get to lick ma stick, what do I get to lick?" he asked with a childlike innocence that the wise Vulcan saw straight through.

She appeared to consider her answer, swaying her head to one side as she flicked her gaze up his front and eventually to his face.

"You may start with ears," she said simply. "After that, anything you wish." She swung round and walked out of the doors, heading off down the corridor.

Trip paused, closed his gaping mouth, and looked at the stick. He held onto it tightly as he tugged his uniform zip up a tiny way, nodded to himself, and followed her at a sedate pace.

Whistling.

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FIN

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And that's it! Hope you liked some part of it. Thanks for all your comments and suggestions, reviews and constructive criticism. I really appreciate your time and patience. Thanks!