The first time… she mentions their relationship to someone else.
Dress uniforms, wine glasses, and a hulking - and frankly, kind of tacky - Xindi War Memorial. Trip does not want to be here. He just hopes he has honed his diplomacy skills well enough over the past few years that it doesn’t show on his face just how badly he does not want to be here. He doesn’t want to chitchat with various dignitaries. He definitely doesn’t want to walk over to the ostentatious stone monument and highlight Tucker, Elizabeth Allison, but of course he will.
The large column is slightly more tasteful up close; the screen displaying the names is subdued in appearance and cool to the touch.
He still doesn’t want to be here.
He doesn’t mean to eavesdrop, but he catches T’Pol’s gentle voice coming from the other side of the pillar.
“I grieve with thee.”
There’s a bit of rusting and sniffling. “Thank you.”
The second voice sounds young. “My cousin and his wife,” she explains. “They were talking about having a baby. I was so excited to be an auntie.”
After a moment the young woman continues, “Did you lose someone?”
“I lost several crewmates,” T’Pol answers quietly. “… and my sister-in-law was killed in the Xindi attack on Earth. I did not have the opportunity to know her, but my partner loved her very much.”
He can hear the sympathetic smile in the second voice. “Then I grieve with you too.”
This is the first time he’s ever heard T’Pol reference their relationship. He’d like to revel in the moment, but a fresh surge of grief washes over him, wondering what Lizzie would have made of T’Pol and how they would have gotten along. He suspects his sister would have been charmed by his partner’s dry wit and quiet warmth. In turn, Lizzie would have worn T’Pol down with her relentless good cheer and impertinent sense of humor. He’ll never know.
Of course, if Lizzie had lived he wouldn’t have leaned on T’Pol to cope with his overwhelming pain and rage. They might not have come to understand each other so deeply or learned how well they complement one another. There’s a peculiar sort of grief in that as well, in considering a life in which he never loved T’Pol and was never loved by her.
“Are you all right?” T’Pol has finished talking to the girl on the other side of the column and joins him, her face full of sympathy.
Trip sighs.
“I am,” he answers honestly. “Just paying my respects to your sister-in-law.” He flashes her a crooked smile.
T’Pol looks down uncertainly. “It seemed the simplest description. Do you object?”
As if he would deny her this or anything, regardless of their legal status or complicated history.
“Of course not. I think she would have liked you, ya know.”
“I sure do,” he adds softly, and she meets his eye with a hint of a smile.
He reaches out to briefly take her hand, and she grips his with a firm squeeze, a tangible reminder that for all his melancholy thoughts of what could have been, he is loved by her here and now. That’s enough to get him through the next few awkward hours.
“Come on, let’s go find our table before it’s time for Jon’s speech.”
“I hope it’s the one with the gazelles,” T’Pol deadpans as she falls into step with him.
procrastiwriting replied to your post: Well I’m off to a good start with 2465 words! And...
You are BRAVE. I keep my first drafts under lock and key. Keep rockin’ it. :D
Lmao thanks. It’s mostly because I know that I rewrite the opening chapters 40 times and that this conversation will get absolutely obliterated when I get back to it in a month.
The fact that it’s so short helps, too. I don’t post anything over 200 words.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
What if Bridgerton were set in modern Australia?
The Bridgertons are a prominent (and prolific), wealthy family headed by a charming hunk of spunk called Anthony. Helping his siblings dodge the ridicule of the parochial Australian media and keeping his family's business empire afloat preoccupies all of Anthony's time until a prickly stunner with zero respect for legacy bursts into his life and fucks up his neatly laid plans.
The Sharmas are second-generation Aussie battlers working hard to re-establish themselves after a family tragedy. Kate has sacrificed everything to protect her younger sister's prospects but with Edwina about to graduate uni and Mary finally finding her feet, she can no longer avoid tackling her own heart's desires. Kate's not exactly sure what's next but an entitled, white fuckboy is certainly not top of the list.
Okay, even I hate myself for trying to make that phrase my title. I’m the “I hate Mondays” kind of person. This is me ⬇⬇⬇
So I spent my morning with a friend of mine who lives in California in the San Francisco area that I haven’t seen in years. Came home and got the immediate needs of work done but I’ve lost my motivation due to being way too tired and having no desire to stare at my email and do work to get ahead for the week. So instead I’m going to write. It’s my preferred form of procrastination on this overcast, rainy Monday in Iowa. I always talk about procrastibaking so I’ve developed a new term: procrastiwrite. I will be procrastiwriting for a while to wrap up the next chapter because I am SO damn close to it being done. And hopefully, it will make this Monday less gloomy.
For the past week I’ve been like okay time to write and then I’m like but first gotta check Facebook and run around singing the Phineas and Ferb theme song.
Also I’ve been doing the same thing with sleeping.
Somebody help! I’ve got a fuckton of work to do...
week-ends are meant to rest and do things you enjoy, not work! live you best life!
No but I can’t! I legit have to do 1100 little tasks over the weekend, and right now I’m at #105 and it’s taken three hours just to get there. I mean, I will be getting a day off for it some other time, my employers aren’t monsters, but this will definitely have to be done this weekend.
but on the other hand I’m getting close to a key scene in my Ice mechanic fic and I’m finding a good groove for my country musicians Bellarke, so obviously, this is a dilemma.
