Courage and Anger- Pt 1

Courage and Anger

By Quest

Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: It all belongs to Paramount. No money was made. No infringement intended.
Summary: The aftermath of the neuro-pressure treatments.
A.N.: “Courage and Anger” was inspired by Stubadingdong’s story, “Pushing Forward,” but it’s my own take on the idea. Thanks and homage.

Part One

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Several nights had passed before Trip felt the courage and motivation to return to T’Pol’s quarters for more Vulcan treatments. During that time, the dream had come again and again, and each night it worsened just slightly, and he awoke, soaked from head to toe, his sheets sopping wet, gasping for air, angrier than the night before. He’d even begun to sleep on top of a towel in preparation for the dreaded nightly event.

But tonight, the Captain had noticed Trip’s irritability and his obvious exhaustion, and ordered him to Dr. Phlox for treatment for his sleeplessness. Trip had seriously misjudged his engines and two of his crew were mildly injured. This bothered Trip to no end, and only made him angrier, as much at himself as the Xindi for starting the whole damn series of events.

The same conversation between Trip and Phlox had transpired as always had, and sent Trip, still unwillingly, back to the Vulcan’s quarters.

The truth, although he loathed to admit it to himself, was that he didn’t want to stop having the dream. He wanted to be angry, furious, blood furious, in fact. He wanted every living Xindi to pay for his sister’s innocence in death with their life. He wanted blood, and the dream fueled that desire, filling him each and every night with venomous hatred, and what he thought was the strength to continue on his mission.

Tonight, he trundled down the hallway, the enormous dark circles under his eyes not giving way to the icy knives that bore out of his eyes above them. When he reached T’Pol’s quarters, he felt an odd nervousness in the pit of his stomach, although he had no idea why. He took in a deep breath, and puffed it out his nose, shoulders dropping quickly. He rang her door.

With the same incomprehensible expressionless presence, she answered, and silently moved aside so that Trip could enter her quarters.

“I’m sorry, T’Pol, no offense, but I really don’t want to be here tonight,” Trip said, waving a hand as if to give up.

“Then why are you here?”

“Capn’s orders…. Ma’am,” he returned. “Between you, Phlox and the Captain, I’m out of other options.”

T’Pol studied him for a moment, head cocked slightly to one side.

“Then why is it that you wish you were not here?” T’Pol asked.

That was a harder answer to bring to his consciousness. He didn’t want to feel better, but what sense did that make?

“I guess I… like my anger. It puts me in control, makes me take action.”

T’Pol moved over on to her bed and gestured for Trip to follow and sit in front of her.

“Anger is an emotion that most often causes a relinquishing of control, does it not?”

Trip considered, “Yeah, okay, maybe sometimes. But not in my case.” Trip followed her to the bed and sat down, his back facing her.

“Really,” T’Pol answered with a mildly irritating but barely detectable sarcasm.

Trip turned to her, his anger surfacing again, as it so often did these days. “Sarcasm from you, T’Pol? I’m surprised at you. Are you implying that I have no control of my anger?” He paused and grinned, “Of course you are, you’re a Vulcan and I’m a mere human, get a grip, Trip.”

T’Pol tilted her head again and looked directly into Trip’s eyes, which made him squirm with discomfort, as if she could see right down to his soul.

“Do you?” she simply asked.

Trip turned back around, feigning smugness. “I do.”

“I see,” she said as she looked for the right spot on his back to begin the treatment.

“Then you are saying that by being angry at this moment with me, who poses you no threat whatsoever, you are controlling it?” T’Pol asked.

“Please disrobe,” she continued.

Trip answered, his anger all but brimming over the edges now, “I’m just angry now because I’m angry. I never said you were a threat.…” He hated admitting that she was right, and even so, somehow, he did feel threatened by her tonight.

“I see,” T’Pol repeated.

Trip feared that she really did see his innards, the unspoken, unadmitted vulnerability, which he protected with such vengeance.

Relieved that this portion of the conversation was over, at least for now, Trip pulled his shirt off over his head.

As her hands searched for and found the vertebrae, an enormous wave of exhaustion suddenly flooded over Trip. She hadn’t even pressed in yet, and the treatment seemed to have complete power over him. Then, without warning, her fingers pressed into the spot with a staunch power that first made him jump forward, and then heave an enormous sigh of relief. His eyes felt so heavy, he suddenly had to exert a huge effort to keep them open as slits.

“T’Pol,” he slurred, “this really worked and I need to get back to my quarterrrsss…” His voice trailed off as he collapsed backward onto T’Pol’s lap and chest, falling into a deep sleep, almost as if drugged.

T’Pol, admittedly surprised by the effectiveness of the treatment, and by the Commander’s susceptibility to it tonight, slipped out from under him, allowing him to fall onto her bed.

“Commander…” she whispered, “Commander?” Trip’s face looked peaceful at last, and T’Pol danced only briefly with the idea of calling security to carry him back to his own quarters to sleep his exhaustion off. Instead, she sighed quietly, and took to the task of pushing the unconscious commander into a better position on her bed, placing a pillow under his heavy head and pulling the shoes off of his feet.

Task accomplished, she rose slowly and momentarily observed the sleeping human. She sat down at her console to work for a short time before she would meditate and then create her own bed nearby on the floor.

She flipped on her console and began tapping buttons with expert ease, attempting to immerse herself in her work. But something nagged at her, interrupting her ordered Vulcan stream of consciousness, and she kept looking back over her shoulder at the sleeping human. She knew this bothered her, but she seemed unable to stop herself from watching him as he slept peacefully, his breathing even, his face relaxed.

In this state, he was almost a thing of beauty to watch. Free from the burdens of so many swirling illogical emotions, his face expressionless, she focused on the detail of his fine features, noting how logically his face was put together, how practically his body was formed… Not too unlike the Vulcan male, only with fewer sharp curves and angles -- a softness she found… curious.

She shook her head slightly, removing herself from her reverie, and realizing she was tired as well, she seated herself in preparation to meditate before sleep. But she could not quiet her thoughts. She wondered how anyone could want so badly to hang on to such a destructive and dangerous emotion as anger. She wondered why Trip seemed so fearful of going to any lengths of discussion with anyone on the ship about his state of mind. Hard as she tried, she could not achieve a state a peaceful meditation tonight, as her thoughts returned again and again to these questions; just as her eyes returned again and again to the sleeping man on her bed.

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

T’Pol had no idea how long had passed since she’d fallen asleep using two meditation pillows as a makeshift bed, but the cry that awoke her brought her out of a very deep sleep. She sat up quickly and looked over toward the bed where Commander Tucker had been sleeping. The commander was sitting up in bed, his eyes wide open, his face and body covered in thick sweat. He was gasping for each breath.

T’Pol instinctively moved to his side and sat down.

“Commander?”

“I’m okay. I’m okay.” He answered between gasps, waving his hand again as if he wanted her to go away.

She looked down at the drenched bed, and then up again at the commander’s face. He still had not caught his breath, and was trying to subdue his gasps, swallowing hard between them. T’Pol could see that he was also visibly shaking.

“I do not believe you are ‘okay’, Commander.” She said with some mild disdain for his blatant denial of his own severe physical state. “Is this why you have been unable to sleep? A recurring dream? A nightmare?”

Trip was finally beginning to catch his breath, as reality began to pour back into his mind. He’d fallen asleep in T’Pol’s quarters, in T’Pol’s bed. Why’d he let himself do that? He had no idea if she had been sleeping next to him, but he felt an enormously overpowering sensation of fight or flight. He wrestled with himself to stay put.

“It might have something to do with it...” he managed, his breathing still heavy.

“And you have told no one about this?” she asked.

“Phlox,” he offered between breaths, “Phlox is the only one who knows.”

“Does he know of the severity of it?”

Trip was taking deeper breaths now, trying to slow his respiration down, and obviously, trying to hold back what appeared to be a deep sobbing in his chest. He shook his head.

“No. Nobody knows. Except you.” He paused, “I guess that makes us even, huh?”

“Even?”

“I know something personal about you and now you know something personal about me.” Trip grabbed his shirt and started to wipe away the sweat which was dripping into his eyes and down off of his chin.

“I am learning more about you, Commander.” She replied.

T’Pol took a moment, then, “Commander, while this dream is fresh in your mind, please allow me to use another Vulcan technique to assist you in lessening its power over you.”

She had no idea why she offered this to him, thinking it would be most unlikely he would accept her offer, even if it were the logical thing to do. But it was clear that he was in desperate need of more than simply Vulcan pressure therapy for sleep. There was something, obviously having to do with the loss of his sister, that was far deeper and that needed to be released in order for the tortured man in front of her to begin to find anything resembling peace. But she needed to see the dream in order to tell how far he needed to go. She didn’t know why, but she needed to know what exactly was tormenting him so. Other humans suffer losses, but this was somehow deeper, more overpowering.

“What kind of ‘technique’?” he was saying.

“It is a technique that will allow me to share the dream with you. You relive it, and I am there. You will be completely safe, because I will be there with you throughout the whole experience. It is called Palil’Ifal, the Dream Depiction.”

Trip, not sure he wanted to go back into his dream, and not sure he could trust the Vulcan woman, shook his head.

“I’m intrigued, but I don’t think so, thanks anyway.”

“May I ask why not?”

Trip looked over at T’Pol. She was looking at him again, directly into his soul. He quickly averted his eyes from her penetrating stare.

“You fear trusting me, Commander?” She asked.

“No, no… no… well… maybe a little bit.”

“You must trust me, Commander. I would not have offered Palil’Ifal to you if I had not trusted you, as well. It is an experience that puts me into a… vulnerable position.”

Trip looked up, truly surprised, and met her stare again.

“You trust me?”

“Yes.” She said, simply.

“Why?” He asked with emphasis.

“Commander, the dream must be fresh. Each moment we spend talking takes us further and further away from reaching the Palil’Ifal.”

Trip looked at T’Pol shaking his head. A small grin spread across his weary features.

“What the hell.” He said, “Let’s do it.”

T’Pol reached out for his face. At first Trip leaned backwards away from her, but then slowly he straightened, allowing her to put her fingertips on his temples.

“Please, Commander, close your eyes and try to recall the events of the dream.”

Trip complied. “That’s no problem, they’re as clear as day… they always are,” he said with weight in his voice.

T’Pol also closed her eyes and then there was silence.

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

Two of them standing. Standing. Standing. Near a park. Perhaps a school of some sort? She saw a young boy. Standing. Yelling. Screaming.

“Get out! Lizzie, get out, NOW!!!” The boy child was screaming, but it was the Commander’s voice.

In the yard, just out of hearing range a lovely young human girl, blond hair blowing gracefully in the breeze. She was waving, smiling sweetly, looking lovingly at Trip.

T’Pol felt it all, every emotion, as the boy morphed into the Commander she recognized. His voice became ever more desperate, ever more pleading, as his fear rose and rose to levels that even the staunch T’Pol could almost not bear.

Suddenly the Commander’s rising voice became absolutely silent. His mouth moved, but there was no noise at all. Only terror, guilt, pain, escalating fear. T’Pol’s jaws tightened so hard she bit the edges of her tongue so that they bled. She could taste the blood. Was it hers or was it his, or…

Still, he was screaming, but no sound came from his lips. Tears rushed from his eyes, his heart pounding at a deafening rate, as he tried fruitlessly to run toward the smiling girl. An invisible wall stood between them. A wall of space and time that could not be breached.

In the distant clearness of blue sky behind the girl arose a horrific explosion. It consumed the sky, the earth, the wind, and even T’Pol’s breath. T’Pol watched in helpless horror as it ripped toward the girl, her hair blowing now uncontrollably, her face contorted into a look of complete terror. The only noise now was the explosion, as the Commander continued to scream, and his tiny sister dwarfed by the explosion behind her reached her arms out to him, eyes pleading with him to save her.

At last, the explosion reached her. The Commander’s scream of “NOOOOO!!” echoed through the shock waves. T’Pol felt hot tears flood from behind her eyes as she watched the horrific sight of a young, innocent child being ripped apart, each part being burned to a crisp and crumpling like so much burnt paper. “This is wrong…” she thought, “…wrong.”

With the same ferocity as the explosion, an ashy aftershock blew into them, knocking them both to the ground, spewing ashes of death and destruction into their arms, their eyes, their throats, their lungs.

Then blackness.

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

Their eyes opened in unison, as both awoke from the Palil’Ifal, covered in sweat, and gasping for breath.

T’Pol released the grip on Trip’s temples, and placed her hands upon his cheeks, cradling his face. He looked at her wide-eyed, like the boy child in his dream, terrified and helpless.

“Too real,” he gasped, “Too real.”

“The Palil’Ifal is more real than the dream because you are awake,” she replied out of breath.

His eyes closed again, and his face knotted up into an expression of absolute agony. She had to pull him up out of the deep dark hole the wakening version of this dream had thrown him into.

She now knew how far he had traveled to get where he was, and how hard the difficult journey back would be. She knew she was responsible for getting him there. And now she knew and understood completely the torment this human was suffering.

Hot tears pursed and stung at her eyes, and maintaining control of her own powerful Vulcan emotions was extremely difficult. But she had to, because the human would otherwise suffer serious, perhaps permanent, mental damage from living through such an event, not once, but twice in one night. Never had she been through such a painful Palil’Ifal with another.

She could feel his psyche fall further down the hole, away from her, away from safety. She could not lose him.

“Commander! Commander!!” She yelled at him, “You are safe! You are with me. I am here!”

His teeth gritted together so tightly he could barely force comprehensible language through his lips.

“No, I can’t. Let me alone, dammit! NO!” His voice rose as he fought harder than she’d seen any human fight before against the rush of tears and sorrow that ravaged his heart, his very soul. She knew he was not speaking to her, but to his own excruciating feelings.

Having joined with his mind, she knew she must help him in ways she was not accustomed to.

“Commander, you must release your emotions now! You must allow yourself to have what are rightfully yours to have. Let go!!” She shook his face in her hands.

“Let GO!” she repeated, shaking him even harder. “I am here. I will stay by your side.”

The twisted expression on Trip’s face finally melted slightly, and in a voice broken with agonizing pain, he said softly, “You saw. I couldn’t save her, T’Pol. I couldn’t help her. I’m supposed to be the one who could have saved her, and I couldn’t. I wasn’t there. I wasn’t there… You saw…”

Quietly, realizing she was painstakingly pulling him upwards out of the darkness again, she said, “Yes… I saw.”

“She trusted me, T’Pol, and I couldn’t save her…”

At last… the words trailed off and deep, profound weeping replaced them. Tears flooded from his eyes, and he wept uncontrollably, sobs pouring out of him loudly.

T’Pol felt tears flow silently down her own face, but she ignored them. She new they were residue from the Commander’s own emotions, and that, in part, they were empathic to his needs. She daren’t think about the possibility that they might also be her tears, shed for this aching human. There was no time for such indulgences.

She pulled the weeping human in towards her chest, and held on to him tightly, cradling him in her arms. Intuitively from the linking of their minds during the Palil’Ifal, she knew this was the right move to make at this time, even though it was not at all Vulcan.

He was so vulnerable, fragile, weakened and terrified, she was almost awed by this amazing confusion of emotion that overwhelmed the human… and yet, he continued to live on through each sob, through each breath. His body shook with each new release of his grief, his skin became thick with sweat, his hair matted against T’Pol’s chest, but it didn’t matter. Now, all was at it should be.

She could feel him rising up towards the light with each passing moment. It was the emotional release that he had required, more than any other single thing. A human need he could not seem to accommodate within himself. And in spite of all her Vulcan training in self control, she had brought him to this point, and assisted him in releasing his agony.

She continued to hold him, and very gradually the sobs got quieter. Although unexpected after so much time, she could still feel his mind, and she sensed that his thoughts, his emotions, his being, was beginning to calm after the great release of emotions. She had given him what he had needed most.

His body felt wet against hers. Tears had mixed with sweat.

As Trip’s mind began to quiet, his spirit began to feel a great weariness, and an enormous gratitude for the Vulcan that was holding him. Quieter and quieter his sobs became until they gently turned into soft a-rhythmic breathing.

He finally broke their embrace and looked up at her. Their eyes met in a profound silence that shook both of them. Trip was the first to break the silence.

“Thank you,” he said. “I haven’t bawled like that since I was a little kid.” His lower lip still quivered, still the vulnerable child was there.

“You are welcome,” T’Pol responded.

“…Charles.” Trip finished.

T’Pol paused, then acquiesced, “…Charles,” she finished also.

Then, without any warning, Trip reached his face toward T’Pol’s. His lips brushed across hers with astonishing gentleness. He stayed there for a moment, caressing her lips with his ever so tenderly, and then pushed his lips into hers for a deep passionate kiss. This lasted only for a moment or two, but it felt like a lifetime to both.

They released, Trip fell back onto T’Pol’s chest, laying his weary head on her breasts, and fell into a deep, deep sleep. T’Pol adjusted a pillow behind her back, leaned carefully backward onto it so as not to wake the sleeping human, covered them both up and closed her eyes.

She had been kissed by Commander Charles Trip Tucker III. And she had kissed him back.

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

The alarm sounded, as it usually did, at 0530 hours in T’Pol’s quarters. T’Pol opened her eyes to find the still sleeping commander lying peacefully on her chest.

A strange urge came over her to touch his face, run her fingers over his features with a feather’s touch; across his eyebrows, under his chin, down his nose, over his closed eyelids, across his cheeks and his forehead. She resisted the urge, intense as it was, and wondered why she would let such urges as these, and the impulses, intuitions and intimacy of last night be a part of her mindset.

Was she becoming more human by living so closely with them? Or was it something else that was happening to her?

Normally, she would spend the first half hour of her time in the morning meditating. Instead, she thought of nothing but the human who lay peacefully on top of her, keeping her warm and weighted. It was a ‘satisfying’ sensation.

She waited until 0545 before trying to rouse the sleeping human, knowing he needed every bit of sleep he could get. Then quietly she put her hand on his cheek and tried to stir him.

“Commander Tucker,” she said softly.

He stirred ever so slightly, and then settled in more comfortably on her chest.

“Commander Tucker,” she said again, a little more loudly, and with a tone that resembled an order.

Trip sat up suddenly, his eyes open staring around the room without seeing where exactly he was.

T’Pol sat up. “Commander, it is 0545. We both go on duty at 0700.”

Trip looked over at T’Pol, then down at himself. Again reality poured into his groggy mind. He stood up quickly.

“Oh my God,” he said under his breath. He found his shirt and quickly slipped it over his head. “I’ve been here all night, haven’t I?” he asked T’Pol without really looking at her.

“Yes, Commander. Do you not remember?”

Trip shot a glance at her, suddenly overwhelmed with nervousness.

“Yeah, I think I remember most of it… Um… Look T’Pol, I’m really sorry about all that last night. I mean I’m sorry about everything.”

T’Pol, whose gaze never once left the commander, stood up, putting on her robe. The place where Trip had been lying on her suddenly felt cold, and she felt quite chilled as a result.

“Why are you sorry, Commander? There is no need to apologize.” Her gaze still penetrated him.

He looked away, and nodded, “You really helped me… but… Yeah, well I guess I’d better head back to my quarters. I need a shower and a new uniform,” he laughed nervously, like a teenager.

He moved toward the door quickly, hoping she wouldn’t respond to him. He seemed absolutely beside himself, and T’Pol could not figure out why.

From Trip’s vantage point, he’d spent the night with the person on the ship who criticized him more than anyone else. He’d shown complete vulnerability to the one person on board who he was truly the least comfortable with. And worse, he’d actually kissed her!

“Bye and thanks, T’Pol.” He waived at her like a nervous kid on a beach, and felt completely stupid afterwards for the awkward smile he’d offered up. It didn’t help that he tripped on the edge of the door as he made a hasty retreat. Then he all but ran from her quarters to his own.

From behind the closed door of her quarters, T’Pol raised a single eyebrow.

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

Days passed without either Trip or T’Pol initiating contact with the other. Sometimes T’Pol would glance over at Trip on the Bridge and find him looking at her, a longing softness in his eyes. Instead of blue icicles, his eyes were sky blue and warm now. The two would exchange polite nods, and resume their duties, looking away abruptly. And no one else seemed to take notice.

It was just as well. Their mission had taken on danger many times, and a focused crew was a good crew.

Trip was sleeping better than he had in many months, and T’Pol’s quarters seemed something of a distant memory. He preferred it remain that way, as he felt he’d overstepped her boundaries in so many ways – it was downright embarrassing. Kissing the logical T’Pol? What on Earth was going through his mind? Sleeping in her quarters, and then using her lovely bossom as his pillow was bad enough, but kissing her?

Every time Trip thought about it, he flushed red and felt a hot flash shudder through his body. It was painfully embarrassing… and yet he thought of it over and over again. He didn’t seem to be able to help it, especially as he lay in bed trying to go to sleep every night.

Tonight was just the same. It came up in his mind, and immediately he grunted and rolled over, as if changing his position would somehow change his thoughts. It didn’t work, and he tossed and turned for another 15 minutes at least. At last, the thought began to slowly sink away from his mind, and sleep started to close in on him.

Just as he felt the relief of letting go, his door rang. He sat up, slightly jarred, but ready to take action if it were the Captain or another crew member requesting his assistance. But why hadn’t they simply used the com system?

He threw a robe on over his skivvies, and stood up.

“Come in! It’s not locked.”

The door opened, and standing there in his door frame was, of all people, T’Pol.

She looked like her usual collected self, although something seemed to offer a hint of urgency in her demeanor. Trip gestured a welcoming arm, “C’mon in.”

Silently she walked in, and took in his quarters with a quick glance. She then focused solely on Trip.

“What can I do for you tonight, T’Pol?” Trip felt a bit ridiculous asking such an obvious question.

“Commander…” she began, then stopped herself, looked down for a moment, then back up and resumed, “Charles, I believe we need to talk.”

Trip was surprised, but tried not to let it show. He was also agonizingly nervous, although he also tried to suppress that from becoming obvious as well.

He swallowed hard, and realized his jaw had been hanging open, “Okay…”

There was an extended pause when Trip realized he was being extremely rude.

“Please, sit down.” He offered her his desk chair.

“Thank you,” she responded and sat down, her back straight and stiff, she rested her hands on her legs. She looked very tense even for a Vulcan, and for just an instant, Trip thought he saw her hands shaking, until she quickly grasped them together. Her knuckles began to turn white. He looked back up at her eyes. She was still trained on him.

“What do you want to talk about?” He asked, seating himself backwards on another chair, using the back of the chair as a kind of shield.

“Commander…” she began, and again corrected herself, “Charles… why have you been avoiding me?”

Trip smiled wistfully and decided it was time to come clean with T’Pol. After all she’d done for him, it was the least he could do.

“T’Pol, I overstepped your boundaries that night, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’ta just kissed you like that. To tell you the truth… I’m… uh… embarrassed about it. Kind of embarrassed about the whole night, actually. I kinda figured you wouldn’t want to see me. But I really am sorry I kissed you like that. It was outta line.”

T’Pol looked distant as she considered then her eyes met his again quickly.

“I am not sorry.” She said hastily.

“You’re not?”

“No, Commander. Did I try to stop you from kissing me?”

Trip thought about it briefly. “No,” he replied.

“Did I ask you to stop kissing me?”

Trip shook his head, “No.”

“Did I not kiss you back?”

Lights went on all over Trip’s body, he felt electric as he realized that she, in fact, had kissed him back.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, you did.” He replied with some surprise and enthusiasm.

“Then, why are you sorry, Comman – Charles?”

Trip was too dumbfounded to answer. He realized his mouth was open again, so he shut it, but could think of nothing to say. He shook his head and tried to reply, but nothing came out.

“Charles, what happened between us that night was something that is…highly unusual. We shared a kind of intimacy that Vulcan’s rarely share with each other, let alone, with humans. It marks the beginning of a…” T’Pol searched for a Vulcan word to define it, but could only come up with a human word, “…a ‘friendship’.”

Trip smiled. He liked the sound of that word, especially coming from T’Pol’s lips. He nodded at her, eyes twinkling with an inexplicable joy.

“Friendship. Okay. I like the sound of that.”

Although she did not return his smile – as he knew she could not – she looked more settled than she had been.

But she did not get up and leave, as he had expected her to do. Fondly, he rested his chin on his hands on the back of the chair and asked, “So… is there anything else?”

She looked down, as if undecided about something. When she looked up again, there was definitely something resembling fear in her eyes. Trip lifted his head, suddenly concerned, and waited.

T’Pol finally spoke, “There is.”

Trip stood up and flipped his chair around so that he was sitting, facing her leaning forward elbows on knees, open to what she might have to say.

“Something wrong, T’Pol? Talk to me?”

She looked as if she wanted to, but could not bring the words to her mouth.

Slowly, he began to see that maybe the roles were reversing. She seemed quite upset over something, as upset as a Vulcan might seem, that is. But she couldn’t tell him.

Finally, she spoke, “Perhaps another night, Co– Charles.”

To Trip’s surprise, she abruptly stood up, and headed for the door. “Goodnight,” she said as she crossed his floor. Trip followed her, suddenly feeling very unfinished and quite worried. He reached her just as she raised her hand to open the door, and to his shock, there her hand was shaking like a fragile leaf blowing in the wind.

T’Pol’s hand shaking? He began to feel that perhaps she was the one who had a need, and gently, his heart began to want to reach out for her, hold her close. But he dare not do anything until he knew more about why she was here and what the hell was going on with her.

Instinctively, Trip crossed him arm in front of the doorway, blocking her from exiting, even though she hadn’t yet opened the door.

“Hold on, T’Pol. You’re shaking like a leaf.”

T’Pol lowered her hand and clasped her thigh with it to stop the shaking.

Trip continued, “If we have a friendship here, then I wanna know what is going on.”

T’Pol was looking at the floor. She backed up against the wall next to the door, but said nothing.

Trip, sensing he was pushing kind of hard, backed away. “Okay. If you’re not ready to talk about it, that’s okay. If you need to go, that’s okay, too. But I hope you trust me like you said you did and tell me what’s going on real soon.”

Still, T’Pol said nothing and continued to stare at the floor. Trip couldn’t believe his eyes, but it was almost as if she was going to cry. She seemed torn between staying and trying to reach out and running away.

“T’Pol, I’m gettin’ real worried here.” He moved closer to her again, his hand reaching out to lift her chin up so that she would at least look at him. When her eyes met his, he could see that the solemn stoic Vulcan’s lovely deep brown eyes were brimming with tears. She blinked, and down rolled the tears, dropping off her face and onto his arm.

Enough about talking, Trip thought, time for contact. He pulled her away from the wall and held her closely, wrapping one arm around her back and the other around her head. There was no noise, but Trip could feel her shaking. He knew there were more tears coming, but she was absolutely silent.

For a long time they stood just like that, T’Pol wrapped up in Trip’s arms. The silence was broken only by their breathing. At last, T’Pol’s shaking seemed to subside, and Trip held her out from him to look at her, querying her with his eyes.

She acknowledged his query and nodded. After some difficulty, she began to speak.

“How much of the Vulcan database have you read, Commander?” she asked slowly.

Trip’s eyebrow went up, as one corner of his lips grinned slightly. “To tell you the truth, quite a lot of it lately… Why do you ask?”

This time, he led T’Pol over to his bed, where they both sat down facing each other. Trip offered her a pillow. To his surprise, she took it and hugged it to her belly.

T’Pol took in a deep breath through her nose and let it out very slowly, trying to regain some measure of control.

“Have you read anything about… ‘Pon Farr’?” She finally asked, watching him carefully as she did so.

“You mean the Vulcan mating ritual?” Trip asked, not fully comprehending.

“Yes.”

“Well, yeah, I read what’s there, but that wasn’t much. Something about the urge to mate coming around once every seven years, or something like that. Is that right?”

T’Pol looked mildly irritated by the somewhat callous and undetailed description of what Vulcans knew too well but talked of too little, the Blood Fever, both delightful and deadly.

“It is much more than that, Commander--”

Trip lifted a finger to interrupt, “Charles, T’Pol, my name is Charles.”

T’Pol nodded, “Charles,” she said.

After a pause, she began again, “Pon Farr is The Time of Mating. It is when a Vulcan is drawn home to take a mate, or to consummate a marriage most often arranged by the parents.” T’Pol watched Trip’s reactions with intensity.

Trip nodded, “Go on.”

T’Pol swallowed uncomfortably and continued, “It is also a time when Vulcans lose the ability to control their emotions. It robs us of our control, tears at us with its insistence, and forces us to satiate ourselves in ways… we would prefer not to. It is not logical.”

Trip listened and watched intently, “But, T’Pol, every species has to propagate… or everyone would die off and there’d be no little ones to grow up and take their places.”

T’Pol lifted an eyebrow, “Indeed.” She knew that she had to make it clearer for him to understand the difficulty which all Vulcans faced at this time.

She went on, “There are… serious… consequences when we cannot sate the Pon Farr.”

“How serious?” Trip asked, beginning to feel his worry return.

T’Pol took in another long breath and let it out slowly.

“If we do not find a mate, and in most cases bond with that mate both mentally and physically during Pon Farr… the result has been… death.”

Trip’s face turned grave, “What?! You mean if you don’t mate you die?”

“Yes,” she answered simply.

Trip rubbed his forehead with his hand, “why isn’t there more about this in the database?”

“Vulcans rarely talk about it amongst ourselves. It would be even unlikelier that we would share such a private and difficult concept with another species… even if that species is our ally. On Vulcan, it is simply understood and acted upon as needed.… But… since we are not on Vulcan…” she looked down again.

Trip finished for her, “…and we’re not going to be able to get to Vulcan…” There was a long pause.

Finally T’Pol looked up at Trip with the most pleading look he’d ever seen. He decided to take a risk.

“T’Pol… can you choose a non-Vulcan as a mate?”

T’Pol looked hugely relieved, almost hopeful. “Yes. It is not done customarily, but it has happened in extreme situations.”

“This qualifies as an extreme situation, if you ask me.” Trip smiled gently at her, and took her shaking hands in his.

“It has never been tried with a Vulcan and a… human, however,” T’Pol warned gently.

“Sounds like this might be the time to try it, then,” he answered.

T’Pol sighed and looked up at him again, the troubled look returning to her features. Trip looked at her turning his head slightly so he was eyeing her through one side of his eyes.

“Don’t tell me… there’s more?”

“Yes,” she answered. There was another protracted pause, then “when Vulcans mate and bond… it is for life. A Vulcan bond is the equivalent of a human marriage vow. It is not something that can be taken lightly.”

Trips eyebrows went up, “Well, I can’t say I’m surprised. Nothing about Vulcans I’d ever take lightly.”

“One more thing, Com – Charles…” T’Pol seemed especially pained with whatever she had to say next.

Trip reassured her, “It’s okay, T’Pol. So far, everything you’ve said to me has been just fine. Whatever it is, just give it to me straight.”

T’Pol nodded, swallowed and continued, “I believe… that our night together… sharing the Palil’Ifal together… acted as a sort of catalyst. Almost like a bonding. I believe it was that night that initiated the Pon Farr in me.”

She trailed off, almost apologetic, for admitting this to Trip.

Trip smiled ever so slightly, not with humor, but with sudden understanding.

“You know, T’Pol, I haven’t been able to get that night out of my mind. I think I knew something happened that night, but I didn’t have a name for it until now… We bonded. It makes perfect sense.”

“It is slightly more complex than you describe, Charles. We did not bond. You would know if we had truly bonded. But it was significant and in some way instigated my Pon Farr.”

“I think I understand, T’Pol. But I also know that something happened that night than was more than I could figure out. I thought I was imagining it.”

Trip paused, and smiled gently at T’Pol, squeezing her hands in his.

“Can I ask you a question, then?”

T’Pol replied, “Yes, of course.”

“If Pon Farr happens around a marriage, or a promise of a marriage, why didn’t it happen way back when you were supposed to get married? I mean, that’s the logical thing… isn’t it?”

T’Pol shook her head ever so slightly, “It is the logical thing. I do not know why I did not go into Pon Farr at that time. Presumably, I was… distracted… by my duties.”

“Uh huh…” Trip responded, looking a bit sly. He was willing to let that one go, despite his urge to cajole her about it just a little bit. Instead, he smiled again, “Well, here you are now… And here I am. I have to admit I’m curious about a lotta things. Like… after your Pon Farr is over, do Vulcans still… um… ‘mate’?”

“Yes. Vulcans find reason to mate without Pon Farr, the desire for offspring, or to resolve a disagreement, even to regain control that may be lost for any reason. It is a healthy and expected means of physical contact… although we do not speak of it. Pon Farr gives us no choice – it forces our sexuality or violence upon us, willing or not.”

“So… after your Pon Farr is over, we can still…?”

“Yes, Comman – Charles.”

Trip felt obvious relief from hearing that. “Then, T’Pol, I am more than willing to be your mate.”

For T’Pol, the words were over. She reached out for Trip and pulled herself against him. She felt enormous relief in the mere sensation of his body against hers.

Trip said quietly, “But you’ll have to explain that ‘violence’ part some time, okay?”

T’Pol simply nodded.

For another long while, they did nothing but hug each other. That seemed to be all that was need for now. This was certainly nothing akin to violence in Trip’s mind.

Trip finally spoke, “Does anybody but me know about this, T’Pol?”

T’Pol nodded. “Dr. Phlox has noticed that my readings have begun fluctuating, my adrenalin is continuing to rise to unsafe levels. He is beginning to come to the correct conclusion.” She pulled away and looked up at Trip, “Does anyone else need to know?”

Trip thought for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, I think we need to tell the Captain for starters. He deserves to know if two of his senior officers are becoming involved… especially if it’s serious.”

T’Pol also nodded. “And the others?”

Saddened by a sudden thought, Trip face dropped a bit. “You know, Malcolm is going to be mighty upset about this…”

T’Pol looked puzzled, “Why?”

“He’s crazy about you, T’Pol. I know you’ve seen him look at you that way, right?”

“Yes, but I presumed it was merely a physical attraction, and nothing more,” she answered.

“No, it’s a lot more than that.” He paused. “We need to tell him, too, so he doesn’t find out the wrong way.

T’Pol considered for a moment, “Then perhaps we should tell all the senior staff, too, because that is what will eventually happen.”

“Maybe the rest of them can just find out when they find out,” Trip said. “Let’s just start with the Captain, and take it from there.”

T’Pol nodded. She took the pillow Trip had offered her and lay it down on Trip’s bed, and then slowly lay her body down on his bed, leaving enough room for him to join her.

Trip looked befuddled and she noticed.

“I do not expect anything to happen tonight, Charles. It is much for us both to absorb. But… if you would not mind, I would be most grateful if you allowed me to sleep near you tonight.”

Trip smiled, his eyes filled with understanding. “I don’t mind, T’Pol. Stay here with me,” he said quietly.

He took his robe off and crawled in next to T’Pol. She moved her head against his shoulder and sighed quietly, her eyes closing, peace at last enveloping her features. Trip experienced only a moment of awkwardness as he tried to find a comfortable position for his arm. He realized this was silly, and gently he moved his arm over her body, allowing his hand to fall into her hands.

And there, they fell asleep.

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

Part 2

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A whole mess of folks have made comments

Such a sacrifice he makes for his lady love!

ugh...I hate giving negative criticism but
you totally ruined a good story with pon farr.
Its become so cliche(believe me almost ever fan fic author has used it at least once..me included)...why couldn't you just leave
the story as it was. You were doing a very good job. The only other part I didn't like was T'Pol's constant waffling over calling Trip Commander or Charles. One or two waffles is the limit...you have to pick one and go with it.
Q

Honey, don't get riled over the above. IMHO I think its unnecessarily negative (sorry Q, but I do. Nothing personal). It wasn't ruined at all - though she's right that the story was good enough by itself without needing Pon Farr as justification for T'pol's behaviour. Don't be down though because its a thoroughly enjoyable read, and well worth some praise.

I don't think it's ruined. It's cliche, and god knows I've used it once in a story, but if the writing's good, and this is, I want to read more. You've managed to touch the emotional heart of these characters, and that's a great beginning by any measure. Please continue. ;-)

Sorry folks...I've just had my fill of pon farr
stories. It seems to be the easy way out for
a Vulcan to have sex. Like I said...the overall
writing was good, but the pon farr is where
Quest lost me. You can't get praise all the time.
Lord knows I get my share of criticism. We all do.
Q

Apologies to those of you who found Pon Farr cliche. I'm not someone who has been sitting around reading fan fiction -- I have two young children, one of whom is autistic, and I home school them -- so reading, alas, is a genuine luxury, and writing has had to be in the wee hours of the night. I rarely get the joyful opportunity to read any fiction, let alone fan fiction, so I've been out of the loop for quite some time, alas. I took an idea of what might really be able to happen in the series and expounded on it. I didn't realize readers would find it cliche. I can try and rework it?
--Quest

It's fine the way it is, don't change it. Please continue it, I'm looking foward to more.

I really enjoyed this and am looking forward to more. Keep going! Good to know T'Pol will talk about Vulcan sexuality with Trip. And I liked the tenderness the two feel towards each other. No need to rework anything, but there is a need to keep writing!

Everyone enjoys a good Pon Farr piece. *wink wink*

Agreed....but for different reasons..you used a cliche...now work with it and see if you can make
something interesting and unique with it.
Q

You know what... I say forge on. I'm really enjoying this story. Nothing needs to be reworked... just continued! ;-)

I loved the story and look foward to reading more.I love all of the Trip/TPol stories. Keep up the good work and don't mind the others.

This is great stuff! It flows nicely and you've captured the growing trust between these two characters beautifully! Please continue! :-)

I, for one, don't consider pon farr a cliche. No more than time travel, which has also been done to death in both fics and on screen. I don't think most readers do either. It's as much as of the star trek universe as anomalies and warp cores. It happens. The difference between a good and a bad pon farr fic is the manner in which it's executed.
And the execution is done nicely. I hope your busy life allows you more time to continue. :)

I really enjoyed your story! Yours was my first Trip/T'Pol story, and I can't wait for more. I really want to see Trip's reaction to the fact he's just committed himself to be T'Pol's life partner. He seemed so calmly accepting, but I want to hear his internal thoughts.

Keep writing!

While I'm generally not a fan of pon farr fics, this one was done very tastefully. (Geez, I read this days ago and meant to come back for a comment...I suck.) Don't rework it to satisfy everyone else. This is *your* story, you write it how you see it. Those that don't like it don't have to read it.

Oh, and I'm glad I inspired you! My work here is done. ;) Seriously, though, thanks much for the nod! It kinda surprised me, but in a good way.

Isn't there a saying that goes something like, "if you try to please everybody, you please nobody"? There will always be someone out there to critizise, and like Stub said, those who don't like it don't have to read it.

I think you have an excellent start to a great fic here. You've really captured Trip's volatile emotions in a way that was both graphic and gripping. I loved how you had T'Pol use her unique talents to bring him closer to her. And I, for one, find it totally credible that something as mentally exhausting as that dream ritual would initiate something in T'Pol. Pon Farr seems kinda logical to this human. :)

Please keep writing! I was disappointed to get to the end and not have another chapter to read.

This is a great start, this is one of the most subtle Pon Farr fics I have read; rather than straight into a good old sex romp, they promise to have one after they announce their "engagement" to the people that matter, (not that I think the captain matters above everyone else on the ship!). I really like where this is going keep it up, please!

This story is great, please continue!

I hope another chapter is coming soon! Don't stop here!

Nice...real nice...I was a little disappointed with the ending though. This should be rated pg13.

Yes, also enjoyed it immensely, please continue this one, what a challenge, cant wait for a sequel.............

I thoroughly enjoyed your story. You captured Trip and T'pols characters wonderfully. It was a great read. I hope you get time to add another chapter sometime soon. THANK YOU.