Attraction- Part 3

Attraction
An "Enterprise" story”

Written by Alison M. DOBELL

RATING: PG-13
ARCHIVE: Yes. Just let me know where.
FEEDBACK: Welcomed
EMAIL: AlisonMDobell@aol.com
WEBSITE: http://carlajane.50megs.com/Ali00.html

SUMMARY: "The Captain is baffled by what is happening.Dr Phlox cannot help and Sub-Commander T'Pol is actingmore and more distracted."
DISCLAIMER: The usual disclaimers apply. The characters and 'Enterprise' are the property of Paramount. Noinfringement of copyright is intended.

Chapter Three

"CURIOSITY"

* * * * *

Captain Archer was a bundle of nervous energy. Dr. Phlox had given up trying to calm him down yet despite his sympathy for the Captain's feelings he did not allow him to disrupt sickbay. He had two patients who needed every assistance he could give them. Having a keyed up explosive Captain on the scene hardly improved things. It took badgering and a rather painful piece of straight talking to get the Captain to return to the bridge. "Call me the moment anything changes." Dr. Phlox nodded. "And I *mean* the very moment."

"You have my word, Captain."

Satisfied but not reassured he reluctantly left, casting a last look in Sub-Commander T'Pol's direction. She made no move to join him. Part of him was annoyed that the doctor had not asked her to leave as well. But the part of his brain that was still capable of rational thought accepted that she was not the one wearing a whole in the floor of sickbay. When he got to the bridge Travis Mayweather fixed him with an anxious look. Ensign Hoshi Sato watching his face nervously. "How are they doing, Captain?"

He sighed and took his seat with a heavy heart. "I wish I knew, Travis."

Ensign Hoshi Sato frowned. She did not like the sound of that. "Does the doctor know what's causing their condition, sir?"

He shook his head. Suddenly bone weary. Heart aching. "No. Apparently both Trip and Malcolm are in perfect health." He bit his lip and just stared in front of him. "Apparently there is no logical reason for their condition." His words made him think of the Sub-Commander. Logical. What the hell was logical about any of this? He looked at Ensign Sato. "Ensign, I want you to check the sensor logs from the time this started then backtrack slowly. We might have missed something."

"What are we looking for, Captain?" Asked Travis.

The Captain's head turned as the door hissed open behind him. His expression blank as Lt Hess gave him a nod then took Trip's station. Lieutenant Reed's second, Ensign Cross was already at tactical. Captain Archer swallowed before answering Travis. No offence to either Hess or Cross but he hoped he would not be having their company on the bridge for much longer. He wanted his friends back.

* * * * *

It was odd but as he gazed up through watery eyes the image of T'Pol grew steadily clearer. He was vaguely aware of Lieutenant Reed trying to comfort him but could no longer hear his voice. In fact he was feeling increasingly numb until he was unable to feel the Englishman's presence at all. There was only T'Pol. His eyes pleaded with her not to leave him. As if hearing his thoughts out loud she spoke in reassurance, "I will not leave you, Commander."

Commander. *Why so formal, T'Pol? I gotta die before ya'll call me Trip?*

Then he realised the doctor was hovering close by. Of course. His thoughts paused. The doctor. That meant he was in sickbay. His eyes widened slightly at the realisation, the lights overhead suddenly coming into focus and blinding him. He winced and felt the hand on his cheek become solid.

"Commander? Can you hear me? Are you in pain?"

Her words immediately drew Dr. Phlox over to the biobed. Lt Reed had not stirred. The doctor began to check Commander Tucker and was pleased to see that he was waking up. As Trip's eyes fluttered open the doctor beamed at him. "Commander, it is good to see you finally awake."

Trip squinted hard. "Hey doc, can you dip the lights? You're kinda blindin' me here."

"Yes, yes, of course." He responded happily. Immediately the lighting was dimmed.

"Thanks." That was when Trip got his first good look at the Sub-Commander. As his eyes focused on her face he felt as if the very expansion of the universe had stopped to accommodate this moment. A heartbeat frozen in time. "T'Pol." He breathed her name slowly. A long subdued exhalation of breath that seemed to have so many nuances wrapped up in it that the Sub-Commander had no way to divine a single meaning.

He watched her left eyebrow elevate. Her expression quizzical. "Yes, Commander?"

He felt so dry. His throat was parched. Words scratching him as he spoke. "Can't ya call me Trip?"

He felt the sigh more than heard it. Dr. Phlox realised the Commander was dry and went to get him some water. Trip kept his eyes on T'Pol. She considered his request then after a couple of minutes gave a slow nod. "Very well - Trip."

Despite everything he beamed at her. "There. Wasn't so bad, was it?"

"It is a foolish name." She responded before she could stop herself. Appalled at her hapless comment. Speaking without thinking was not a Vulcan trait. She mourned her momentary lack of control.

He saw the abashed look flicker in her eyes. Knew she would have taken it back in an instant if she could have. "That's alright, T'Pol." He drawled gently. "It *is* a stupid name but it's my name." His smile became a slow teasing grin. "But then T'Pol isn't exactly the Mary Jane of Starfleet."

Dr. Phlox was about to offer him the water then decided to pass the tumbler to the Sub-Commander. It would do her interpersonal skills no harm at all to assist the patient. She took the glass and looked at the Commander with a frown. Whether because she had been handed the menial task or whether in response to his comment about her own name, neither man could tell. "You will need to sit up to drink. Do you require any assistance?"

He sighed slightly and closed his eyes for a moment. Suddenly weary. When he opened them again he startled a look of concern on her face. He felt sorry for being the cause but was also warmed by the fact that she did care about him. Even if only as a member of the crew. Every little inroad into her Vulcan detachment was hoarded like a single grain of gold dust. "I'm okay, T'Pol." He said softly. "Just tired."

Her frown deepened. He sounded exhausted. His pallor far too pale for her liking. Then Dr. Phlox was there, taking the water from the Sub-Commander and inserting a spoon into the tumbler. He carefully lathed a spoonful of the cool liquid to the Commander's lips. Enough to wet his lips not slake his thirst. Trip was too tired to be puzzled. Too weary to draw the precious fluid into his mouth. His eyelids so heavy now he could no longer keep them open. Sub-Commander T'Pol felt a moment of unreasoning panic. Afraid that if he closed his eyes now he would never open them again.

* * * * *

It was a bright sunny day. Not a cloud in the sky. That was odd. Malcolm Reed looked up. No. Not even the fair weather cumulus clouds. No cirrostratus. Just clear blue sky reaching on forever. His father's voice brought him back down to earth. "Malcolm! You have not been listening to a word I have said."

The bark of authority straightened his shoulders. He turned his head and looked suitably contrite. "Sorry, sir."

His mother tried a tentative smile on for size but she seemed as baffled by her son's behaviour as his father was in denial of it. "Now what is this nonsense about wanting to join Starfleet?"

"It is not nonsense. A programme is in operation to streamline then recruit the brightest and the best to crew the first Earth space ship. The Academy will..."

His father cut him off abruptly. "Reeds are Navy. Always have been always will be."

"But I don't want to join the Navy." Malcolm said quietly.

His mother looked worried. As if there was something actually wrong with him. His father frowned with disapproval. The sky overhead began to darken. Out of the corner of his eye he could see stratus then stratocumulus clouds forming. As if the mood in the Reed household was having a directly proportionate effect on the weather. Which of course was utterly absurd.

"You will forget this Starfleet nonsense and that's an order. I will speak to the Admiralty..."

"Father."

The sudden stiffness in his son's voice stilled Mr. Reed for a fraction of a second. "This is not a discussion, Malcolm. I will not allow you to throw your career away on a whim." He snorted. "Space travel! What next? It's time you took your head out of the clouds and lived in the Real World."

He bit back his anger. His sorrow. The depression of always having to duck beneath the weight of his father's domineering presence. He caught a glimpse of his sister Madeline just inside the conservatory. Her look giving him strength. Her lips mouthing the words she would never speak aloud in the presence of their father. Egging him on to do it. To follow his dream. Escape the confining strictures of a house that was not a home. A family that was as dysfunctional emotionally as any broken home. The appearance of stability did not make it so. Idly he wondered if he had been adopted. It took effort to keep the ghost of a smile from forming on his lips. One hint at humour and his father would take his belt to him. Grown man or not.

"I am joining Starfleet, father." He continued in a quiet firm voice. His mother's eyes widened. Surprised at his daring. He could see his father's face reddening with rage. "My application has already been accepted."

"How dare you defy me!"

"I regret that we do not see eye to eye on this subject, sir." He stated in a calm clipped voice. Carefully making sure he did not sound surly or belligerent.

"While you live under this roof you will obey the rules of the house."

"I won't be living under this roof, sir. Starfleet Academy does not take day students."

He thought his father would burst a blood vessel. The hush was so absolute that he could not even hear any birds singing or the buzz of insects on the wing. He waited for the inevitable tirade. It did not come. Instead he was subjected to something far more painful. His father's scorn and disappointment pierced him to the heart though manfully he tried not to show how much it hurt. His mother turned away. Too weak to stand up to his father. Too timid to support her son. His father's voice was quiet, strained and cold.

"You have planned this for some time."

It was a statement not a question. A judgment carved in stone.

"No, sir, I have *wanted* this for some time. I have tried to discuss it with you but you never wanted to hear what I wanted."

"So you just decided to defy me anyway is that it Malcolm?" Came the quiet accusation.

He felt tears prick his eyes. His cheeks flushed red. He so wanted his father to be proud of him. His mother to love him. The only one who really understood was Maddy but she did not count. She was a girl. "I did not want it to come to this, sir. I hoped you would see how determined I was and would support me."

His father stood heavily, brows drawn, back straight. "When do you leave?"

"In the morning, sir."

Mr. Reed gave a solemn nod. Glanced out through the patio door at the dark clouds forming. "Storm's coming."

Malcolm did not speak. In his eyes it was already here. The sadness that welled up in his heart was only bearable because of the huge feeling of relief that it would soon be over. Freedom beckoned. His future laid out before him. Inwardly he vowed that he would work as hard as possible to make the grade. He did not want to be good he wanted to be the best. To excel to such a high standard that he would prove his father wrong and carve a future for himself out among the stars. His eyes glittered as the first heavy drops of rain fell. He watched the precipitation with a quiet sense of calm. Inordinately pleased that he had not lost his temper, that he had dug his heels in and made his case without rancour. It would have been nice to have his parents' support but in the end that did not matter. Maddy supported him and that was enough. No one had a sister more wonderful than he did. Four years his senior she gave him what his parents could not. Love unstinting. Her affection and humour had fashioned him as much as his father's unbending discipline and his mother's patience. Without turning his head he knew they had gone back inside the house leaving him standing at the patio door of the conservatory. He could not see Maddy but he could feel her presence.

Gradually he became aware of being comforted though he had not consciously realised he was crying.

*Malcolm, c'mon it's gonna be okay.*

That voice. Who was that? He forced his eyes open and stared into the dazzling blue of his friend, Commander Tucker. That was intensely weird. He felt disorientated. What on earth was going on? The Southerner looked paler than normal, his face filled with concern, his eyes gentle and almost pleading with him.

*Are ya okay, Mal?*

Not knowing what to say he nodded then remembered something. *Are we still...?*

Trip sighed. *Yeah, we're asleep*

*Oh bugger, I was afraid of that.*

Trip wiped the tears from Malcolm's face then stepped away from him, ostensibly looking around to see where exactly they were. But Malcolm knew he was just giving him time to get himself together. A private moment in a place where privacy was all but taken from them. He took a couple of deep breaths and considered something. *This isn't so bad, Trip.*

The Southerner was looking at the incredible sunset. He did not turn his head, the awe he always felt at such a sight was still in evidence. Malcolm could see how his eyes shone with the wonder of it. If Peter Pan had ever been a real boy he would have been Trip. Surprised at his own fanciful thought he chuckled. Trip turned to look at him. *What's so funny?*

Malcolm walked over to join him. Not really sure what he was walking on. He imagined it was solid yet could see no form. Were they walking on clouds or was the sensation all in his head? Now 'that' was scary. *I was thinking of you and Peter Pan if you must know.*

Trip tilted his head. *Ya know we are gonna have to get ya seen by a shrink when we get back.*

*IF we get back.*

That silenced them both for a couple of minutes. Trip brought him back on track. *What about Peter Pan?*

Malcolm shrugged suddenly embarrassed. It was a juvenile thought and he certainly did not want to say anything to offend his friend. Trip heard his thought.

*Ya won't offend me, Mal.*

*I was just thinking if Peter Pan were real he would be you or rather, you'd be him.*

That amused him. *Why?*

Now Malcolm smiled. *Your sense of fun, that child like quality you have...*

*Hey!*

His smile grew wider. *It's endearing, honest.* He soothed.

Trip stared at him. Hardly able to believe his ears.

*And when you get that awe struck look on your face, well - I just keep thinking of Peter Pan. The boy who never grew up*

*Thanks.* Growled his friend in mock annoyance.

Malcolm laughed. *I always liked Peter Pan you know.*

Trip smiled back then became serious. *Ya know I like your sister.*

*No,* Trip admitted. *But seein' her through your eyes I feel like I do.*

That made him stop and think. *You saw Maddy through my eyes?*

He nodded. His voice becoming quieter, oddly gentle. *Yeah, saw ya parents too.*

*Oh.* There was no answer to that. Pain touched him deep, courted the shadows of his eyes where not even the beautiful megallanic cloud could cast its' vibrant colours.

*I think ya made the right decision, Mal. Hell, I know ya did. You're the best tactical officer I've ever seen and I'm proud to serve with ya.*

*I'll remind you of that the next time you criticise one of my decisions.*

Trip laughed then gave him a long look. *Are all Brits like that?*

*It's okay, Trip. People think we're all stuck up and stiff upper lip but that's mostly an illusion. We're as warm and mad and impassioned as any other race on the planet. Except, that is, for my father.* He gave a helpless little shrug that gave more of his feelings away than he could have known. *I did strike lucky though with Maddy.* He grinned at Trip. True pleasure breaking through the pain barrier. Voice tinged with affection. Looking at him Trip smiled back and made a silent vow. If they ever got back to Earth he was going to take Malcolm to meet his family. Not a soul on the planet could withstand the combined good will and mayhem of the Tucker clan. If that did not fix a permanent smile on his friend's face nothing short of surgery would do it for him.

* * * * *

Captain Archer stared at his plate. The food untouched. His heart heavy. Sub-Commander T'Pol had barely spoken two words to him and those he had to drag out of her. He looked up. "I wish I knew what was going on. I feel so damn helpless."

She said nothing, just looked at him. There were times when he was seriously tempted to shake her. If only to get a response. Belatedly he realised it was because he wanted a *human* response. How screwed up was that? She was a Vulcan and the sooner he accepted that the better.

"Sub-Commander, I can't help feeling we must be missing something." Yeah, like two of my crew.

"Dr. Phlox is adamant that both Lieutenant Reed and Commander Tucker are unharmed."

He sighed with exasperation and flung down his napkin. "I don't call being unable to wake up unharmed."

She raised an eyebrow. "Both the Lieutenant and the Commander have regained consciousness, albeit temporarily."

"I don't consider opening your eyes then closing them again to be a good definition of awake, Sub-Commander." Seeing her mouth open in protest he held up a hand and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, T'Pol. I should not be taking this out on you it's just that I feel so helpless. I want to do something. Find a way to bring them back. Break this spell."

"Spell?"

"Uh, it's an expression. In our fairy tales there are various characters who have seemingly magical abilities. Witches, wizards, you name it. In the stories they can cast spells on people. It's like Trip and Malcolm are under some kind of spell. One that won't let them wake up."

T'Pol considered his words carefully. Her look thoughtful. "And in the stories, Captain, how is the 'spell' broken?"

"It varies. For Sleeping Beauty it worked with a kiss."

She stared at him then lowered her eyes to look at her plate. Hardly a morsel had been touched. The Captain fell quiet, lost in his own thoughts. Neither moved when the steward appeared and cleared away their plates. It had been a long and exasperating day. A day of deepening depression as the crew absorbed the fact that they were completely out of their depth. The Captain hoped and prayed that whatever had overtaken his two officers it would not affect any more of his crew.

* * * * *

Trip could feel her presence. He nudged Malcolm. Both were sitting on what seemed to be a spongy surface. It reminded Trip of grass but it had no smell. The moment he thought of that he could smell fresh mown grass. A grin split his face. His friend looked at him as if he was mad.

*What's the matter with you?*

*She's back Mal.*

His friend twisted around but could not see anyone. *Who?*

*The one who created this.*

A voice imbued itself on their consciousness. Musical, light and dusted with humour. *I did not create this*

*Oh no? Then who did?*

Her answer came as a surprise. *You did.*

*No. You.*

Trip and Malcolm exchanged a look. Malcolm was philosophical about the dubious honour. *It makes sense, Trip. Remember when I was looking for you but couldn't see you? You were telling me to look at the view and as soon as you said that I could see. Not just anything but see what you were seeing.*

*Yes, but I didn't think of them until I had seen yours.*

A moment passed in silence. *So you're sayin' this is my fault?*

Malcolm put a hand on his friend's shoulder. *No. You didn't do this to us.*

*He is right.* Said the voice. Odd how it tinkled slightly like silver bells, thought Trip.

*Why d'ya pick on us?*

*Curiosity.*

Her reply surprised them both.

*We were curious about your particulate accretion."

*Our what?*

Trip felt humour slide through his mind. Glad to have Malcolm sitting right next to him shoulder to shoulder. Keeping him sane. It was the only thing that gave him some sense of reality.

*Your particulate accretion. Organic mass. This matter has coalesced into distinct individual groupings. Each vibrant cluster forming a new being. Apart yet curiously linked*

Malcolm Reed looked excited. *Linked how?*

*Through sentience.*

Malcolm turned to Trip. *She means...*

*Non organic.*

Trip was not sure what to make of that. Malcolm shifted, trying to decipher what she meant from what she was not saying as much as from what little she was. *Can you be more specific?*

*You do not understand.*

Trip saw an anxious look come over his friend's face. Watched Malcolm lean forward even though they could not see the entity to whom they spoke. *Explain it to us. Please.*

*Why not?*

Both Malcolm and Trip felt a cool brush stir against their minds. Like a key turning in a lock they realised that though there were no walls it was still a prison. *Because we have not finished with you yet.*

* * * * *

To Be Continued

******************

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Three people have made comments

hmmmm... this story is growing on me...

Is T'Pol going to kiss Trip to wake him?!! PLEASEE!!!!!

I find this story a little more intriguing than other ones which you've written. And your use of terms that I've never heard of - I had to get up and look in the dictionary for "particulate accretion". Impressive. Now I know that the t-shirt I own ("All I need to know about life I learned from Star Trek")was right all along!!
Looking forward to the next installment.

Great job Ali D! You are weaving such an intriguing tale. I can't for the life of me figure out what is going to happen next, but I'm more than happy to patiently wait for the next chapter. I loved how T'pol was affected by Trip, and how she was able to bring him out of it for at least a bit.

But what I am enjoying the most is the interaction between Trip and Malcolm - it's tender and caring, without being slashy!

Thanks!