#tpel

OVERVIEW

Okay, so, T'Pel comes from a sort of traditionalist family, but not entirely in the followings of Surak kind of way, more in a "we've lost who we are because of technology" kind of way. Her father, Solkar, was raised in a much more old life, part of a group that lived on the land and off of what they could provide. When he was married, he moved a little closer to the city and overlooks housing construction. Her mother, T'Dar, was raised similarly, though her family prioritized artistic things. T'Dar did pottery, and was damn good at it too, but followed her family's tradition. She lived with her parents, then became a stay at home mom and wife to Solkar.

T'Pel is the second eldest of four children, close to her older sister in age, and helped raise the younger two due to a slightly larger age gap (fertility issues, whole other thing). She watched her mother disappear into that, becoming someone with no hobbies, no friends, very little support from her own family, someone who was quiet and did what she was told. Her family lived out of town, making it difficult for her growing up to travel for school and spend time with friends, as she had chores to do at home.

In her youth, T'Pel followed how she was raised. She was discouraged from following her interest in medicine, and was supposed to be a quiet housewife subservient to her husband. She did not mind housework, and does genuinely enjoy homemaking, but did not want to become her mother, and it caused tension within the house. While she did not have outward emotional issues and did not require some kind of treatment, she is still a good Vulcan after all, she found it difficult to not talk back.

When she was in her mid-twenties, against her parents' wishes, she went off to study medicine. She became a nurse this way, working specifically in essentially mental wellness clinics. Here, she develops her telepathic abilities to fend off against the way dying minds reach out. It took time, and a lot of dedication, but she was determined.

Her marriage to Tuvok was tumultuous at first. Her parents no longer fully approved of Tuvok after his emotional difficulties in his youth and his stint at Starfleet, but she was partially healing her relationship with them due to them reflecting on their relationship and disliking not having their daughter in their life. It causes for tension later on, as they extra don't like Tuvok when he joins Starfleet again.

Beyond that, T'Pel and Tuvok did not get along at first. It took years for them to develop their relationship, that's why they had kids later in life. They argued and debated and clashed. They were both still unpacking issues from their parents and it was effecting how they saw each other. However, they, of course, figure things out, and deeply adore each other once they get over themselves.

T'Pel's relationship with Tuvok's family is.. difficult. She does not like them very much, mostly for how they treat Tuvok, and mostly for how they criticize her and their parenting. Tuvok's parents are highly critical old school Vulcans with an inflated sense of self and logic about them, which is just about everything T'Pel dislikes. Plus, they hurt her husband, someone she cares for very deeply.

I could do an entire separate post on T'Pel and Tuvok's relationship in particular and another one on their parenting styles and another one on each of their relationships with their in-laws, but that's for another time (or future fics) and also not why you're here.

T'Pel wanted to be the mother she did not have and the parent children deserved. She would be engaged, and not relegate her children tasks unfitting of them, and be kind. It takes a bit, she's actually more stubborn and harder than Tuvok at times, but they make it work. She never wanted her children to feel a need to hide, as not only does that defy logic, but it also damages children. She is knowledgeable in the mind, she wouldn't want to be the purposeful cause of any undue stress.

She keeps her job in medicine as much as she can, finding a place when they go to Earth. She takes leave when Tuvok goes missing, but she does eventually go back. She likes being able to care for people, it's an integral part of who she is. She just did not enjoy having it forced upon her.

PERSONALITY

T'Pel is a slightly odd Vulcan, but nothing abnormal. She does not struggle with emotional control and believes it necessary, but she holds no animosity towards those that have issues. She understands, especially after her education, what can happen to a Vulcan to make them behave that way. It isn't their fault, generally, and it is something to work with, not against. It's best to herd the sheep, not pull them along the grass.

She is solid in her beliefs, and enjoys tradition in the sense of understanding its importance, but not letting it take over their lives. She is a calm person, often serving as a rock to people and allowing them balance from her. She finds fulfillment in creating and repairing, an intelligent woman and well skilled.

However, she does find traditions ridiculous in some points. She finds the formality they have boring, and the lack of allowance between spouses and family to show affection ridiculous. Emotions are not something to be afraid of, they are something to learn from and keep quiet. They are as much a part of you as your logic is. She does not appreciate the way there is a superiority in intelligence, specifically scientific intelligence, and the way that so many Vulcans are intolerant to other cultures despite preaching IDIC. Xenophobia is incredibly illogical, as are all forms of discrimination. Creatures will be different, and that is the beauty in living.

INTERESTS

This is just a small section that I wanted to include. T'Pel's biggest interest is, genuinely, healing. She loves learning about all the different medical advancements going on around the galaxy. It was one of the good things when moving to Earth, she learned more about alien culture. She has interest in psychology as well as someone that's worked in mind healing, and thinks it really needs to be more widely implicated into Vulcan medicine.

T'Pel enjoys exploring with Tuvok, but she much prefers calmer walks while he likes the challenge. While Tuvok is the gardener between them, she has an herb garden she keeps for herself, as well as goes on walks and hikes to forage naturally. She is a skilled forager, and has an eye for plant identification anywhere she goes.

Also, T'Pel is an artist. She enjoys pastels and charcoal, mostly, but works in sculpting and pottery, something she learned from her mother. She has a plant book she made entirely from scratch. She adds pages from every planet her and Tuvok went to.

She is more social, and finds spending time with others pleasant. It's something she encouraged in her children since she was deprived of many close friendships as a kid, and she does find humor in dragging Tuvok to gatherings he very clearly does not want to go to.

On a side note, something T'Pel cannot really do is cook. Tuvok cooks between them. She can handle it, of course, she isn't incompetent, but she doesn't have a skill for it like Tuvok does. She also, to be quite honest, doesn't actually like Vulcan teas that much.

I think that covers most bases? If you've got more questions or want to know more, please let me know, I am way more than happy to keep talking and I am so sorry if this is way longer than you expected. Hope you got something from it!

Tuvok was different.

T’Pel knew that when she saw him on call, too many light years away. She knew it when she saw him on the broadcast of their return. She knew it, when she sat outside his room at the care facility, told she could not see him yet as he was still recovering from, apparently, a great deal of things. She knew it in the way Sek did not look relieved upon walking out of that room, having seen Tuvok to it after being able to share minds with his father for the first time in eight years. Instead, he looked worn in a way she had never seen on the young boy’s face. She was a healer, she knew what this meld did to people, and she had not seen anyone come out of it so exhausted. It pulled at the bottom of her ribs.

They were thankfully alone, when he emerged.

She straightened her back and stood, walking over and placing a hand on his arm. “Sek.” She could feel his discomfort through their bond, no matter how hard he was clearly trying to clamp down on it.

“He is sleeping, mother. It is recommended he remains that way for some time to allow his mind to heal.” He covered her hand with his, walking with her back to the sitting area she had been occupying, and continuing quietly. “He will require much time to do so, I believe.”

She nodded as they sat down, prying his fingers up from his feelings through their bond. In place, she tried to press soothing through, ice to inflamed muscles, and was denied. He returned with an apology but no further information, and she took it as it was. He was likely holding some of Tuvok’s memories, and he either did not want her to see them or did not think she should see them. Despite the slight frustration that welled, she let it recede with the knowledge that, eventually, she would know them too, and instead submerged the entire limb into cool. This he allowed, shoulders dropping some with the relief provided. “I understand.”

Sek looked at her, then at their hands, then forward at the window with a soft exhale. The sun was setting, scattering dying light on old plants. “He is damaged, much more than we believed he would be. His mind shows many scars, not just the wounds I needed to treat from his condition, and it is.. concerning.” He could be transparent with her, about what emotions beaded just under or on the surface. It was something they had focused on as a family with the children. It allowed for communication, a better understanding with what their children needed help with, and garnered a stronger bond between all if they understood vulnerability in close trust.

“What is it that is concerning you?” Her son had spent time healing with her after Tuvok went missing, most likely in response to the hurt of losing him. He was accomplished in ways of the mind, as she was, as Tuvok was, and had spent a year under her mentorship at the center she worked at. There, he had learned all the ways a Vulcan’s mind could be harmed , how trauma showed internally.

For some it visualized as wither, a rotting thing breaking apart. Others saw it more as scratches and blood, something green and writhing in pain. She had once treated a man who had been rescued from a Cardassian hostage situation, but not before he held his daughter as she died slowly from blood loss. He imagined himself as a bag of sand, trickling out of a torn corner that would tear further and further open. It required careful hands to repair him with thread spun from a twist made of philosophy and Spring.

In T’Pel’s lifetime with Tuvok, his internal space was a field. It was on sandy hills, spanning wide in between mountains with a river trickling through. The fields were covered with reeds, with cacti, with flowers, with wildlife. It had taken time to see this side of him, as for their many first encounters, he showed her very little of his mind.

It began as a flower, sitting in a pot. It would wilt, require water or sunlight, and she would provide, as he did to her. Then it expanded, becoming a garden. She found a plant there specific to each person he held a bond with, and when he showed the one representing her, she had been nearly overwhelmed. It was beauty, sharp and prickly on the stem, flooded with green and yellow on the flower. The petals were thick in the body, reaching out from the center, curling up to the skies and drooping down to the dirt in halves with thin hands where it tapered. Lilac striations ran through each part, darkening along its lifeline, an impression of a dancer.

She had looked up at him, asking what the flower was.

“It is somewhat similar to an Earth flower known as the iris, though they do not have thorned stalks.” He crouched down next to the plant, next to her. “When I was first bonded to you, I struggled with the belief that I could enjoy a life my parents had chosen for me. Throughout our marriage, however, I find myself.. drawn to you.” He ran a hand delicately over one of the leaves, something coated and catching. “I have come to enjoy our time together, and anticipate spending evenings with you. When I am away at work, my mind will come here, and admire your imitation.” He spared a glance to some plants huddled in the corner, vining across the brick. She noticed, now, that the vines had once covered the entirety of the walled garden. They were pale, in the spot her bed was. Remnants. “It does not compare, but it does help.”

T’Pel’s flowers covered the field when she was allowed to see it. She sprouted up in groupings, nuzzled around by plants that had started as buds and now blossomed into their own things. It was roamed by Vulcan animals, grazers that were not generally dangerous. A sehlat was common to see lounging, as were chakriyas and mah-tor-pahlahs. Some venomous animals could be found on the outskirts, or under rocks, but did not attack her. It seemed that her ever paranoid husband shielded every part of his mind, no matter what.

Over the decades, T’Pel had seen this field in all states of disrepair. Overrun with vines, storming, flooding, scarred. This landscape had been ailed by so much, and yet, she had always been able to help him tend to the soil again.

She knew Sek had seen this field. His flowers, geometric and bronze, decorated the hills like hers. His concern did not bid well for their state.

Her son took a slow breath, letting it out with measure. “Varith was always better at plants than I was, yet I don’t think even he knows how to revive something so thoroughly destroyed.”

T’Pel looked at the door separating her from him, letting Sek’s words settle. It laid over them as a heavy cloth, not quite a shroud, but not dissimilar to what was worn by wives at old Vulcan funerals, weighed on their shoulders.

Like a young child, Sek’s head dipped, chin near touching his chest. She responded easily, first nature, bringing her hand up and settling it on the side of his face, palm against his cheek, pressing the pad of her middle finger to his temple and her thumb just under his eye. She did not attempt to intrude on his thoughts, no, but the way they still ran hot and melted ice sparked concern low in her stomach.

He will recover. We will help him. She smoothed down ruffled fur, gentle and firm with her touch. Sek’s mind had changed as he aged, shifting more and more as he found himself. He borrowed from her at one point, a present focused person, and saw himself as the view out his bedroom window. In his teenage years, he became a chalkboard with scribblings, erased and changed and redone with half made music hidden under eraser strokes. Now, he was a lyre, an instrument tuned and playing softly between his ears.

It took three more days before T’Pel was allowed in to see her husband. Three days of meditation, of spending time with Sek to help restring himself inside, the delicate wood warped, of anticipation building in her throat.

She suddenly, all at once on the morning of the fourth day, realized she was nervous.

It was rare for T’Pel to get that squirm that disturbed her stomach when meeting her husband again. It was never targeted at him, but for him. She had been with him after many long missions, ones which she knew were strenuous on body and mind, tasks that were locked in boxes she could not get keys to and dig sites that took years to excavate. She did not mind. He was, at his core, an unsteady person, and she had no qualm with being a balance for him. She found a deep gratitude in being allowed to see him the way she did, not just as his wife, but his keeper. She was given the trust and respect of seeing his discomfort, the green and red paintings of congealment spattered on dust, blown across and drowned. Angry and violent parts of him that coated inside out with sap, shame from his parents, broken stems stabbing through. Even after these assignments where she ran gentle touch across new scars and hands she knew had killed, she had never been nervous around Tuvok. He did not frighten her.

So here, in their bedroom that laid half void for eight years, looking into a mirror she used to see him getting dressed in, she recognized that old sensation and closed her eyes.

Tuvok was changed, yes, but it was still him. Him, who sang soft lullabies in her dialect throughout every illness and ailment to comfort her. Him, who learned every recipe he could from her district to ensure their children would know her home as they knew his. The man who she fought with for years to try and coexist with before they mutually realized compromise was needed. The man who gave her non-judgement for her more outlandish behaviors, and encouraged her to pursue interests her own parents had disapproved of. Tuvok, who did not believe she should lose herself to the children as her own mother had, who named a flower he created after her due to its medicinal syrup, who brought her adventure and gave her patience.

He was still her husband. She was still his wife. If all of him had been melted and molded into a new figure of edges that cut, they remained. And she would build from it with him, for he was her, a part she had been without for too long.

She wore a simple wrapping of purple when she went to the facility. It was a color she favored, one which he did too after she told him that. It seemed only fitting. A caretaker met her at the doors, explaining Tuvok was awake and meditating since last night. He had been informed of her arrival, and tea had been set out in his room for them to share, as was often customary for reintroduction after his procedure.

T’Pel paused, only for a moment, outside of the room. The only indication she had of Tuvok inside was not that beautiful singing along their bond, but by the general ability to detect an active mind that every Vulcan had. He did not beacon in her head anymore. She breathed, then opened the door.

Tuvok was standing by the window, staring out at the skyline. He had his hands folded behind his back, wearing plain colored robes provided by the facility in an orange he would never have picked for himself. Upon hearing the sweep of wood, he turned, and openly stared at her for the first time without a screen in too close to a decade.

“T’Pel.”

She latched the door shut behind her, taking a step into the room. “Tuvok, t’hy’la. I am pleased to hear you are recovering well.”

Too similar to that first call, she watched tension bleed from him like a stuck animal. “Sek informed me you were allowed to come today, as did the caretakers. They believe I am stable enough to see you again.” She saw a look flicker over his face, one that told her frustration. He must still be having issues with emotional suppression. Instead of commenting, she walked up next to him by the window, and the ever present furrow to his brow eased some. Perhaps he had instinctually tried to beckon her closer.

She touched a finger to the latch. “It is good they allow it, as I was twelve hours from finding a way to open these windows from the outside.” Her eyes darted up to his, sunlight running through her at seeing that shine of amusement on his face once more. “I am certain it would not be difficult, I am familiar with the setups of the windows.”

“I have no doubt you would find little challenge in such a thing. It is, in fact, good, then, that they allowed you to come.” Her warmth seemed tangible in his voice, examining the weavings of the bond hanging limply in her. She nodded her agreement, then, took a risk. She lifted a hand, two fingers extended, a gentle invitation to him. He enjoyed her boldness, she wanted to see if he still did.

Tuvok hesitated, unclasping his hands but not meeting hers yet. “My mind is not yet fully healed, T’Pel.”

“Has that troubled me in the past?”

“No, but it is different this time. My mind is not the same as it was when I left. The fields are.. scorched.”

She wished they still had a bond so she could push against him. Instead, she moved her fingers closer. “If you do not wish to kiss me, my husband, you may say so.”

His eyes skirted to the side, looking at her through the corners. “You are aware that was not my intention.”

“I intend to be with you, no matter the state of your fields. If they have changed entirely to an ocean, I would learn to swim so I could weather the currents with you. Allow me the grace to make my own judgements.”

He let out a small sigh which only made her all the more content to be near him again, lifting his own fingers to meet hers, mind open.

Kissing Tuvok again was akin to lightning striking through clouds. It set hair on end, ran sparking down the nerves on her hand and through to her spine. Deep inside her, his bond took a breath, not reconnected but pulsing faint glows once more. Nothing was revived, but a dangerous hope instilled itself where that longing used to sit. She would need to extract it and examine its face later. For now, she would let it stay, if only to bask in the heat of her partner’s mind a little longer.

She nudged at his mind, putting a hand to the fence in the walling. There were gouges in the wood and surrounding rock, scratches from animals, and entire sections seemed to have been replaced hastily with clay and boards. New markings that weren’t there last time, marring the pristine careful sculpts he had. He met her there, at the gate, unimpressed by how quickly she made her way here. He pushed through his curiosity, his relief upon feeling her so close again, the comfort it had, the worry on her behalf at getting access to him again. She took them all, gathered his vulnerabilities in her hands, and pressed herself to them, closing her eyes and savoring the knowledge of him.

I am not opposed to performing a meld. I am aware it is standard procedure after one recovers?

Yes, it is.

Then, in this matter of tradition, perhaps we should indulge ourselves.

Perhaps.

She opened her eyes to look up at him, reluctant to release her touch from him. He made no move to do so himself, so she linked their hands, pulling him to the bed. The tea that had been set out long forgotten, she situated herself in the middle of the bed, hiking up her robe to do so in a way that made her know his amusement at the display, as well as a gentle admiration of her legs. He sat across, folding his own legs underneath him instead of how she preferred to sit with them crossed over each other.

No internal debate needed, nothing externalized, just the sensation of give and take and it was decided upon. She raised her hand to his face, fingers to points, a worn divot in rock.

“My mind to your mind. My thoughts to your thoughts…”

It was similar to walking through a tunnel you had travelled through countless times after each lightbulb had been unscrewed. It was not just that it was now dark in here, no, someone had gone through and messed with it. She was careful and confident with her steps, knowing her way through, and yet the sensation of off was a hard one to shake. Nevertheless, she persisted, and emerged at where there used to be a range of mountains.

Where a lot of used to be had now been burned to what once was.

The last time she was here was just before he left on assignment for the Maquis infiltration. She sat with him the night before amongst the flowers, gathering a bundle of his family and watching petals float downstream. The sun was not unbearably hot, a breeze filtered through to chase off overwhelm, and they sat together leaned against a rock, enjoying the shadow cast, talking over what was needed in his absence, what their communication abilities would look like. Kathryn would get in touch with her on anything major, and this was not expected to be a particularly dangerous mission. Not unless he was found out.

She had argued that meant it was dangerous. He asked if she doubted his skills. Kissing in the shade inside his mind was an experience she never tired of.

Now, when she emerged, there were no flowers. No vines, even. No trickle of water beckoning her to come near. The plants he had carefully crafted and cultivated over decades were nothing more than a remembrance and a memorial, it seemed, remains noticeable only in fossils. Even the sand had gone, hardened into a parched clay that cracked underfoot. T’Pel looked around, looking for life, turning away from the sehlat skeleton on its side and the way the light was artificial and forced, warm all around and refusing the relief of shadows. The entire sky was orange, hazing to yellow along the horizon. There was one constant, at least. Tuvok was standing on the edge of where their hill sloped down, weight shifted to one leg and brows close together. She wanted to run her thumb between them.

“Is this what you meant by your fields being scorched?” She asked as she approached, the air stale and stagnant around them. No wind came through, nothing to disturb the graveyard they stood on.

He nodded, turning to face out at the expanse below. It was where the river used to be, now nothing more than snake bones and evidence of lacking. “It appears seven years too far for bonds to reach and without telepathic stimulation withers my ecosystem.”

T’Pel gathered the looser bits of her robe, sitting down on the crest. She sat cross legged here too, reaching up to tug Tuvok down with her. He responded with an eyeroll and compliance, propping his knees up and resting his elbows on them. “Tuvok, I have my doubts that purely isolation and a disease caused such devastation upon your mind. This is not just blight, this is transformation.”

Tuvok went quiet for a period, eyes fixed pointedly on the place where the clay disappeared into the expanse. “Voyager encountered many new species in the Delta Quadrant. Many of which were unfriendly. I was fortunate to be spared major physical traumas unable to be healed by the Doctor.”

They were in his head staring at the starvation wrought upon him and he was still trying to make it seem less than. “I am sure a hologram knew little about the ways Vulcan minds can be harmed. Were there any Vulcans on board?” “Yes. Two. One of which was ex-Maquis and therefore did not like me on principle, and one of which I preferred to stay away from after he assaulted one of the crew.”

“That seems a sensible choice. It is unfortunate you were unable to have non-disruptive telepathic contact while on your ship.”

Tuvok looked sideways at her. “How much did Sek tell you of our meld?”

“Very little. In fact, he has been rather secretive of what it is you shared, if not disturbed by the ordeal.” She picked up one of the slats of clay, easily detaching it from its underneath, and began breaking it apart in her hands. “I am merely familiar with the ways you attempt to obfuscate the truth, and therefore were able to extrapolate on known data.”

“Hm.” Clearly feeling a little caught, he focused forward again. “I do not mean to lie to you, ashayam.”

“Yet you do not tell me the full truth.”

“It seems unnecessary for our first meld in eight years.”

“I disagree.” She brushed her hands off, looking at the pile of pebbles she had created. “I do not expect you to tell me of everything you have gone through today. I have learned that is not how you share.” She looked sideways at him now, sharing her light between them. “I will not expect more than you have done in the past, nor do I expect you to become the man I knew before this experience.” T’Pel gestured one hand out to the dried fields, devoid of kindness. “However, this is not what your mind will be forever, just as your mind was not always that pot you first showed me. Permit me the chance to bring life back with my skills just as you do with yours.”

A feathering lapped at her feet, impressions of kicking sand and childhood burns from falling and staying down too long. She felt clamps along her head, straps on her wrist, phantom not her sensations that stopped there by his tugging on the leash. Somewhere far off, a man screamed something alone and tired. “I have.. missed your presence in my mind, t’hy’la.” He placed a hand on her knee, running his thumb across the bone. “Your bond has always been a tether for me, and without it, I was adrift in space in every sense imaginable.”

She understood the sensation, covering his hand with hers. He had new scarring along his knuckles that she took careful time to examine the ridges of. “You will not be without it again.” She picked up his hand, pressing the back of it to her cheek, closing her eyes in time with his. Gratitude and admiration dyed indigo spilled from a burst seam before he could zip it up, his control still not fully in place. She found she did not mind, mixing that in so he would not be hastened to clean it up.

It was him, and he was not something to be ashamed of.

Tuvok opened his eyes with hers, reaching his free hand into a pocket she did not realize he had and opening a cloth for her to see. It was something small and metallic looking, kept in a wet towel. A clipping. She looked up at him for confirmation of its purpose, quelling her own assumptions to allow him to explain.

His expression let her know she had not nearly been as good at suppressing that as she believed. “This is a cutting from Sek’s plant. He helped me retrieve it. Will you help me retrieve yours the next time you come?”

“There is very little I would prefer to do, ashayam.” She watched as the sky tinted, just a bit, to a redder color. What exactly it meant, she did not know, but it meant change, and that was a direction she found comfortable for now.

She allowed herself to be pulled up, if only for the demonstration of his strength, and pressed her face to his chest when he pulled her close and rested his forehead against her temple. It was a well worn standing of theirs, a position they took up in breaks while he was cooking, or dancing together at home, embracing in bed or on the couch. It was a placement of protection, promise, the four walls around them as steady as the roof above and the floor below. When they pulled from the meld, and assumed it on his small bed where she had to lay entirely on top of him and he had to hold her in place in order for them to stay, half propped up against the headboard, she realized how deeply she meant her last statement.

In the entirety of the grandiosity of the universe, in all its infinite possibilities, this was the single place she could think of in which she would want to be. Wrapped in her husband’s arms once more, feeling their security around him, the rise and fall of his chest below, pressed as close to each other as possible.