The BLTS Archive - He Builds Things I Blow Things Up
by Bineshii (ldaly@wi.rr.com)

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Published: 11-20-07

Updated: 11-20-07

Disclaimer: No filthy lucre changed hands

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Maybe I like to blow up things because it is a vicarious emotional
release. I wish I had more Vulcan techniques to draw on and I would
ask our resident Vulcan to tutor me, accept for the fact that I do not
want to be interrupting what I perceive as a budding romance. I do not
want it to seem that I am a rival for her affection. He is my best
friend on board, and I am sensitive to his moods even if my attempts
to comfort him take unexpected turns, which make my efforts seem
ham-handed  -  like months ago when I asked him about a memorial for
his sister. Was that ever a mistake. He was not ready. Saying she was
no different than the other seven million was part of the denial step.
I am no psychologist, but I should have realized that at the time, and
just shut up. But that did blow over and we are still friends.

No, it did not blow over, at least for me. I had a need for a memorial
myself. The time Trip took me home with him, and I met Lizzy, was one
of the happier leaves of my career. I was tongue tied, but that was
not noticeable within my usual stiff conversational mode. Lovely. She
was... simply lovely. I wrote to her thanking her for her hospitality
and she dashed off a post card of a palm tree in a Florida sunset.
After that, I could not think of an excuse to keep the correspondence
flowing, so it ended there.

Perhaps I was afraid of Trip's reaction should I ask his permission to
initiate a courtship with his sister. I would not have continued to
correspond with her without his permission. That just isn't done
behind the back of one's friend, at least in my understanding of
ethics. In addition, there are the needs of the many, as the Vulcans
say...  I could not risk damaging the working relationships with the
other officers on this ship by having a personal relationship with one
of their family members - not with what we are facing now.

No matter. I will repress my feelings as always. But I will have my
usual form of emotional release to fall back on, for lord knows there
will be enough opportunity in The Expanse to blow things up. I am glad
that Trip has found his own form of emotional release. T'Pol is a
lovely woman with a deeply ethical, logical, and dare I say it  - 
highly emotional core hidden beneath that stiff unbending exterior.
Takes one to know one, we of the stiff upper lip.

I am so glad I did not stand up and let them know I was there working
on an auxiliary armaments control panel in the engine room that day. I
cried inside too, when he released the pain in the words: "she was my
baby sister!" I echoed the pain in silent words "she might have been
my lover." Well, MAYBE she could have been. We will never know, will
we? I will carry her image to my grave: the photo of her sitting on
the  chair with her arm touching the back of it. I memorized it on
visits to  Trip's quarters, through surreptitious glances. I could
never think of  a way to get a copy of it.

But Trip has T'Pol. She drew the pain out of him and comforted him. I
know they have been intimate; no man shares that sort of pain with a
woman who is not his mother or his lover. But for me, perhaps there
never will be a lover like that. I have not learned how to reach out
like Trip has done. That is the difference between us  -  he mends
things and I destroy them. But if I ever meet another Lizzy, like he
has his T'Pol, I will not let her again slip away through lack of
courage. I have learned my lesson. Sometimes you have to reach out and
fix something instead of blowing it up.

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The End