A guy had to be gracious in victory.

Trip waited until he rounded the corner of the corridor before he balled his fist and punched the air.

"YES!"

He'd done it.

He'd got her to admit it at last.

She wanted him back.

And not only that; he'd got her to kiss him – kiss him passionately. And out in the open, too – in the corridor, where anybody might come upon them.

T'Pol, you are so-o-o outed!

He was back on his ship, where he belonged. Back with his friends. Even Captain Hernandez had accepted his about-turn with a wry smile that wasn't wholly surprised; he suspected she'd never completely believed in his commitment to the transfer, but been glad enough to take advantage of his temporary presence. He'd brought her ship's engines up to excellent operating order, and trained her crew at least part way up to the standards they'd need to be to give their captain the service they should. He'd caused a whole mess of trouble, but he'd paid his dues in that respect; Columbia was now up on a par with Enterprise. And if she was short of a chief engineer, he had one to hand who'd been cheated of the promotion he'd temporarily enjoyed. Kelby would have coped with most things fate could have thrown at a ship; it hadn't been his fault that nobody had ever done a cold start on a warp engine at maximum while it was being carried by another ship's warp field. Technically it shouldn't have been possible to do it at all, but at least now he'd proved it could be done. If his return was really too much for Kelby to bear, the transfer might be the solution to a problem on both sides, but that was for the future.

He had a very quick shower indeed, changed his clothes and headed for the Mess, with the intention of catching a cup of coffee and perhaps (if luck favored him) a piece of pecan pie to load his sugar levels before he went down to Engineering and made sure the repairs were under way to the sabotage that Kelby had been induced to inflict. Just as he reached the door, Hoshi walked out; they nearly bumped into one another, and hung on for a moment in laughing mutual apology. He still hadn't gotten around to thanking the ship's communications officer properly for keeping in touch with him when he'd left the ship. But for that mention of T'Pol alone in the mess, he might have succeeded in convincing himself that he'd done the right thing in leaving.

For all his exhaustion, he'd had trouble sleeping the night he'd read that message. He could feel the Vulcan's loneliness and grief as a dull, constant ache in the back of his mind, the mirror to his own. He'd been trying to ignore it, to smother it with the pressures of work – the same useless remedy that he was applying to his own pain, and with about as much success. Failing that, he'd had no alternative but to hope that time would be the healer for this wound too, as it is for so many others. But that image of T'Pol sitting alone in the mess had gnawed its way through his fledgling coping strategies, breaking them apart and revealing them for the sham they were. He shouldn't be apart from her. He didn't want to be apart from her. He didn't belong on Columbia, he never had and he never would.

And then, as though Fate had intervened personally in the matter, Captain Hernandez had received that desperate appeal for help that only he could give. He'd paced like a caged tiger as the Columbia hurtled in pursuit, heading for the intercept co-ordinates; the relief when Enterprise finally appeared on the viewscreen, still in one piece, had been indescribable. He'd never even thought of refusing to attempt the ship-to-ship traverse; Malcolm would keep him safe. That was Malcolm's job. And once on board, he could do his job, and put his engines back into order. Hell, he couldn't up and leave for a couple of days without them messing up his precious charges. What had he ever been thinking of, to think they could cope without him?

Events had certainly proved that they wouldn't have coped very easily without him after the cap'n brought those three Orion babes on board. Eye candy they might have been, but trouble they certainly had been – and fatal for the cap'n they could easily have been, though the female members of the crew had been less badly affected by the Orion pheromones and might well have mounted a fight-back on their own account even without a pheromone-resistant Trip to head up the resistance. Still, the fact that he hadn't been affected at all had been thanks to the bond. And it wasn't every day that you got to shoot your captain and two of your fellow officers in the line of duty, and one of those the ship's tactical officer in person. Wasn't he going to pull Malcolm's leg about that for ever... and now he was back on the Enterprise for good, he could do so from sunup to sundown. Give it a week, and he'd have the prickly Brit threatening to shoot him out the nearest airlock to shut him up about it. Hell, if he did a good enough job he might manage it in less than that! He couldn't wait to start.

And best of all, he was going to get this sorted out with T'Pol. She could pretend all she liked now, her cover was blown. She'd blown it wide open back there in the corridor! The presence in the back of his mind was vibrating with indignation at the way she'd been duped. Indignation ... and grudging admiration ... and, yes, relief. Relief that he was back on board; that something that had gone wrong was right at last. The world had tilted back on its axis for both of them.

They were going to have to talk this out. Have a long, serious talk, and as soon as they could arrange it. Sex was one thing – and the sex had been glorious, mind-blowing, unforgettable – but it hadn't been just the loss of any prospect of a repeat performance that had sent him flying off the ship. He wanted all of her, her logic and her brilliant mind and her obstinacy and her Vulcan ways and her gorgeous body and her cute pointed ears and her problems with emotions; he wanted the lot. And it seemed that she wanted him too, incredible and extraordinary and marvelous as that discovery was.

She'd proved that to him beyond any doubt, and there was no going back.

It wasn't going to be easy. Exultation didn't blind him to the problems that lay in their path. Their cultures, and to some extent their natures, were in many respects diametrically opposed to one another. If they were to have a relationship, it wouldn't be a walk in the park; any roses that might be strewn in their path would come with some pretty sharp thorns attached. But that it would be worth the struggle, he never doubted for a moment.

He'd paused for a moment while these memories went through his mind. Then with a smile he pushed the mess door command button. The doors hissed open.

She was sitting facing the door. Her eyes came up and met his as though she'd known he was coming in at precisely that second. Perhaps she had known.

The mess hall was crowded. You never knew who might be looking; certain standards of behaviour were expected of Starfleet officers. It wasn't appropriate for him to stop and stand staring in the doorway, though right at that moment that was what he wanted to do, as feeling surged through the bond.

He might have got himself a coffee, and perhaps it had been black, and possibly he'd remembered to put sugar in it; he was never certain afterwards what sort of pie he'd eaten. He'd sat at the table with her, and something had crossed his mind about the state of what remained of her salad, but that didn't seem important enough to mention or even remember. He was too busy feeling that the world was a marvelous place to be in right now, sitting across from her and saying nothing much because it was too public a place, but they'd find somewhere later on where it could be just the two of them and everything could be said that needed to be.

She didn't say much either, that he noticed, because yes, it was a public place and anybody could be listening. Nevertheless when she put her hand out to place her napkin down between them he just happened to do the very same thing, and just for a second their fingers touched.

And lingered.

Damn, but he loved it here!

THE END