Cry Havoc-Ch 21

Cry Havoc

By MissAnnThropic

Rating: NC-17
Email: miss_annthropic@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: None of it’s mine. I’m just a sad little fangirl that spends her days writing fanfic and watching taped episodes of my favorite shows.
Summary: The evolution of Trip and T’Pol’s relationship following the events in ‘Harbinger’.

Spoilers: “Harbinger”

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Chapter 21

Doctor Phlox studied T’Pol’s still features as the Vulcan laid on the biobed in sickbay. Her vitals were constantly displayed on the overhead screen and the doctor’s eyes continuously cut to their patterns and rhythms. The Denobulan thanked times like these that he required so very little sleep. He would not be able to rest until T’Pol’s condition improved regardless of his species’s sleep requirements.

The stillness and silence of sickbay, save for the reassuring beeps of life support read-outs, was broken by the familiar hiss of the doors to sickbay being commanded open. Phlox was not surprised to see Captain Archer walk into the medical facility.

“Doctor,” Archer nearly whispered, though there was no actual need to lower his voice. “How is she?”

Phlox considered T’Pol once more. Her face was still pallid, her heartbeat too slow for a Vulcan, her breathing too shallow, but her heart kept beating and her lungs continued to draw breath.

“She’s stable, for now.”

Archer came to T’Pol’s bedside and somberly regarded his first officer’s prone figure. She looked fragile, in some way insubstantial, laid out so still and precariously latched to life.

“Will she recover?” Archer barely dared to ask.

Phlox sighed. “Time will tell. She suffered severe injuries. That energy blast grazed her heart, much longer down there and she would have bled to death. I’ve repaired the damage and given her a blood transfusion from stored supplies, but the first twenty-four hours will be critical.”

Archer lingered over T’Pol, worry written clearly on his face, then the captain turned and looked at the only other occupied bed in sickbay. The one right beside T’Pol’s, where a motionless Trip Tucker was lying.

“What about him?” Archer asked.

Phlox pursed his lips. “Physically, he’ll recover.”

“What happened? Was he injured? I didn’t see him take a hit.”

Phlox shook his head. “You saw the way he was touching Sub-commander T’Pol in the shuttle?” Archer nodded and Phlox continued, “The commander had initiated a mind-meld with T’Pol, in essence buoyed her life force, her energy, with his own.”

“Mind-meld? But Trip’s not Vulcan.”

“But he is T’Pol’s chosen. Their bond must have allowed the commander to reach her mind, despite his being human. Frankly, without it T’Pol might well be brain dead right now.”

Archer’s eyes widened.

“But he’ll recover.”

“Physically.”

“You said that before. What does that mean, ‘physically’?”

Phlox glanced again at T’Pol. “Captain, emotionally and mentally Sub-commander T’Pol and Commander Tucker are bound together. If she doesn’t survive... I can’t speak to the state of Commander Tucker’s mind in that eventuality.” Silence fell over sickbay’s two conscious occupants.

Phlox spoke into the silence after a long moment, “Commander Tucker will probably regain consciousness in a few hours, but I must insist he remain in sickbay until T’Pol’s condition improves. His presence, physical contact with him, could mean the difference in her recovery.”

Archer nodded, at that point willing to go on faith with what the doctor said no matter how strange it struck him. Archer studied Trip’s disturbingly motionless form thoughtfully. “I doubt I’d be able to blast him out of sickbay anyway.”

Phlox nodded in silent agreement as he looked between the two patients.

****

Snatches of reality rushed past her, just out of reach. Sensations, almost sounds, almost smells, each too fleeting to hold on to. Her mind wavered on the brink of nonexistence, flickering like a candle in the wind. A thready beat flittered in her thoughts. A weak heartbeat, her own, tattered and frayed like a worn cloth. It made her nauseous and lightheaded and her thoughts slipped without purchase. There was not enough substance to her mind to try to enact Vulcan control techniques. She felt panic, muted cries of fear of the encroaching void.

‘I’m here.’

T’Pol’s spiraling thoughts stilled. A voice. Clear, crisp, comforting... reaching out to her from the whirling blackness. She hunted for that scrap of sanity, of stability. ‘Where?’’

Warmth infused her, caught her and held her in invisible arms, and she huddled against the presence like a frightened child. ‘Right here... I’ve got you.’

‘Don’t let go.’

‘Never. Stay with me... just hold on to me, T’Pol.’

T’Pol anchored herself to the ethereal presence, tethering her very life to its relentless energy. The other being rose to engulf her, surround her, shield her, and the winds died. Her candlelight flared to life, climbed higher, grew stronger. She cuddled against the security that encased her, protected her, and extended herself toward the one.

‘Trip?’ she thought in recognition.

‘I’m here.’

And with those two words, that one voice, she knew she was safe. T’Pol let go the fear, the panic, and instead let herself sink into the soul of her mate. He gave her strength, ignited her desire to fight, to live, with the supernova of love and vitality that rested in his heart. She tied her mind to his, held on to him with her thoughts, and the thready echo in her mind grew steady and strong. It struggled until it matched the staccato of Trip’s own heart. It was still too slow by Vulcan standards but she met him beat for beat, pound for pound.

‘Don’t leave me,’ Trip’s thoughts half-ordered, half-pleaded.

‘Never, my husband.’ And at that moment T’Pol knew she would not die. She would not let herself abandon Trip, just as she refused to forfeit years at his side as his wife. She would not allow it.

‘That’s my girl,’ Trip cooed to her determined fire, ‘rage, don’t go gently into that good night.’ His emotions raced with humor, affection, relief, and T’Pol wanted to reach out to him with her entire katra. Being able to brush his soul was not nearly close enough.

She commanded her body to connect to her mind, to bind her to the physical world, and when it reluctantly obeyed she sensed the touch of Trip’s hand on her arm.

T’Pol fought valiantly and managed at long last to open her eyes. She saw only Trip. He was sitting at her bedside in sickbay, one arm resting on the bed, their forearms pressed together, his palm cupping her elbow gently. Contact, sweet, life-giving contact. His skin the siren’s song to her mind and heart, pulling her back toward life from the clutches of death’s void.

Trip’s eyes rose to hers and he smiled. Living was worth it right then, to see him look at her with so much love.

“Hey,” Trip’s voice rumbled gently.

T’Pol blinked at him and tried to speak but her voice cracked. She grabbed at his elbow instead to let him know.

Trip smoothed his free hand over her arm’s exposed skin and bent to softly kiss her wrist. He met her gaze a long moment before turning his attention elsewhere. “Doc!”

T’Pol kept her eyes trained on Trip, the sight of him compelling and hypnotic, but from the corner of her eye she registered Phlox coming quickly at the summons.

“What’s wrong?” Phlox asked in concern then the doctor’s eyes cut to the Vulcan and saw that her eyes were open. Phlox instantly went to her bedside and studied the biological read-outs overhead. Trip returned his eyes to hers and it provided a steadying effect upon T’Pol.

“Astounding,” the doctor murmured.

“Doc?” Trip queried.

“She’s making incredible improvements, even faster than I had expected.”

“That’s great news.”

“T’Pol.” Phlox leaned over the female patient. “Can you hear me? How do you feel?”

T’Pol tried to tear her gaze away from Trip, failed, and wearily closed her eyes. Her hand tightened on Trip and he heard her.

“She’s a little disoriented,” Trip relayed.

Phlox didn’t question how Trip knew that, only accepted the commander’s word. “I can imagine, I didn’t expect you to regain consciousness for another day at least.”

T’Pol didn’t respond to the doctor’s words or voice, instead sidled up nearer to Trip’s mind. Her world grew that much calmer for his psychic influence. Her salvation, her harbor.

Trip’s inner fire warmed her to the core, chased away the cold and dark. She wanted to sleep, to surrender to Trip’s guarding presence, to trust him to protect her while she recovered her strength and regained her control.

“She’s sleepy,” Trip reported.

Phlox’s voice was a disembodied ghost. “And she should sleep. I’ll tell the captain that it appears the sub-commander will be with us for a while yet.”

Phlox’s jovial voice faded to nothing and T’Pol let it go. There was only one voice that mattered.

‘What happened?’ she asked in the only voice she possessed with the strength to speak.

Because Trip sensed his real voice soothed her, comforted her, he spoke aloud like one reading to a coma patient. “You were shot on the planet by a Xindi. We blew the base and I came and got you. The doctor fixed you up and you’ve been in sickbay for four days.

“We’re headed back ta Earth right now, probably get there in about three days. We’ve had ta take it slow because of the state of both the Enterprise and Aries warp cores.”

T’Pol accepted the report, let it pass beyond her concern, and turned her thoughts inward toward healing. Without asking, she knew Trip would stay with her.

****

‘There is an illogical human term for just such a situation,’ T’Pol thought calmly to herself, ‘it is called déjà vu.’ The Vulcan science officer was standing in Enterprise’s mess hall, facing one of the many view ports at the rear of the communal room. Perhaps, she amended, this setting would not strictly apply to the human idea of re-experiencing past events since the structure comprising Jupiter Station was a relatively short distance away and enfolding the NX Aries as opposed to Enterprise itself this time.

The two Earth ships were back in their home solar system. They had arrived in the early afternoon hours two days ago, three point three days after she first awoke in sickbay and Trip had told her of their status and estimated their time of arrival. He had, naturally, been quite accurate in extrapolating travel time from their position then to their arrival two days past. Commander Tucker knew the limits and capabilities of the Enterprise exceedingly well, and in design and function the Aries was not appreciably different.

The ship around her was quiet, almost unnaturally so. All of the crew was tense and impatient. The past few hours were the first time T’Pol had been fully exposed to the atmosphere on board; before that Phlox had staunchly refused to allow her to leave sickbay.

The first day and a half T’Pol had not argued... in fact, could not have argued had she wanted to do so. She had immersed herself in a deep Vulcan healing trance, speeding her own recovery and apparently causing the doctor some distress at the dip in her vital signs despite his familiarity (in theory) with the Vulcan practice. During that heavy meditation she was aware only of Trip’s presence. His touch would send bolts of awareness and outside-world contact to her mind. It was well that her bondmate was close at hand during her recuperation; it saved the doctor having to apply the violent tactics necessary to rouse a Vulcan from such a deep trance. Rather than the sharp sting of physical, bodily pain to bring her out of the healing state, Trip’s mind could sweep in and grab her, with only a touch and thought drag her back to the living world.

Of course, when she had stabilized Trip had not been with her constantly. He had returned to duty, she expected no less from him, but when his duty-shift ended he always came to sickbay to sit with her. The first day and a half after she had first awakened consisted of the thick blackness of the healing mental state and the warm current of Trip’s essence joining hers to keep her company, to reassure them both that T’Pol was not lost, their bond unbroken.

When she had awakened the second day, however, T’Pol was ready to leave the good doctor’s watchful care. She was by no means completely healed, but her Vulcan stamina and cognitive control ensured that she was capable of enduring the residual pain without the need for medical attention. Her well-trained Vulcan mind knew this so resolutely that T’Pol had all but presumed to discharge herself from sickbay.

Phlox had flatly refused, and to her consternation Trip had sided with the doctor. When an appeal to Archer only earned her reprimand for trying to ‘push herself’ she relented with displeasure and wasted more than a day lying on a biobed. During her convalescence, the Enterprise and its sister-ship had entered the Sol system and reached Jupiter Station. Aries had docked for extensive repairs and Enterprise had set up a holding pattern nearby.

T’Pol blinked out at the sight of the Aries, perfectly motionless while small movements, like ants scurrying over the hull, indicated the work the Jupiter Station repair crews were doing to the battered vessel. Both crews were in nervous stand-down.

Almost the instant the two ships reported to Jupiter Station Captain Archer, Captain Jasmine, and the Aries acting science officer were shuttled directly to Starfleet Headquarters in San Francisco to convene with Starfleet Command about the new state of the Xindi threat and to discuss where the Earthers were to go from there.

T’Pol received her begrudging release from Phlox to face, head-on, the anxiety of uncertain waiting among the human crew.

Of course, she had not been utterly oblivious to the state of the ship’s contingent while in recovery. Trip visited her so frequently and he could not hide his emotional state from her, least of all when he touched her. Captain Archer had come to see her twice and the Vulcan was familiar enough with the human commanding officer to read his expressions and body language to glean discomfort and tension.

But mostly, it came from Trip. During her last night’s stay in sickbay she had been pulled from blissful calm by a distinct sensation that Trip was in distress. She had tried to go to him, even got cross with the doctor for barring her, but soon enough the sense of Trip eased and she quieted. A nightmare, no doubt, but it spoke to the state of her human mate... a state clearly reflected in the rest of the crew.

T’Pol took in a deep breath and fought to hide a grimace when the expansive of her chest caused a sharp twinge in her abdomen. On principle she had tasked herself with going to the mess hall to observe the view instead of returning to her quarters. She still felt tenderness, lingering ache, but she was fine. The doctor was incorrect to hold her longer than she deemed necessary; she knew well how much her Vulcan body could take and unlike the doctor’s human patients, T’Pol was fully capable of acknowledging when she was ‘overdoing it’.

Even still, retiring in the near future might be prudent. A few more hours of rest, deep meditation, and she would no longer walk the arrested shuffle of the wounded.

T’Pol breathed in again, less deeply this time, and on the exhale a wave of content and peace came over her... but it had nothing to do with her breathing technique.

T’Pol did not turn to face Trip though she sensed his proximity when he entered the mess hall. The dining area was vacant at this hour, everyone either on duty or in the middle of their sleep cycle. T’Pol, to her chagrin, had conceded to the doctor’s insistence she not return to duty as a condition to procure her release. Trip should have been one of the latter of crew members, sleeping soundly, but he’d been working overtime in engineering repairing the warp engine.

Trip grew closer and T’Pol brought up her right hand and offered her index and middle finger without turning to look at him.

Trip came up alongside her quietly and a fraction of a second later his two fingers met hers. A feeling rushed over T’Pol, as always, at their touch, something warm and comforting and invigorating all at once like the sensation she experienced when Trip nuzzled her neck in the privacy of their quarters. If she were human it would have made her smile, perhaps if they had been in a more secure location she may have anyway, but instead she merely looked up into Trip’s face.

“Should you be up?” he asked softly. His fingers remained on hers, radiating concern and tender affection.

“I am sufficiently recovered to tend myself. The doctor would not have released me were I not.”

Trip at delay lowered his hand, smiled wickedly, and quipped, “Ya sure you just didn’t browbeat him into lettin’ you loose?”

T’Pol lifted an eyebrow at him. Anyone observing the exchange would have seen typical Commander Tucker baiting the Vulcan woman, and Sub-commander T’Pol refusing to rise to the human’s base attempts. Through their bond, however, T’Pol sensed Trip’s good-natured amusement (even if tainted by deep concern for her), and Trip could read T’Pol’s subtle expressions well enough to discern her own disposition. It was far from as disapproving as it appeared on the surface.

Trip chuckled, but all the same disappeared from her side momentarily only to return dragging a chair over from one of the tables. T’Pol did not raise protest and gingerly lowered herself into the offered seat.

Trip fetched his own chair and took up a similar pose next to her. Trip stretched his back, grunted, then sagged tiredly. T’Pol sensed a great deal of his fatigue, but she sensed his frustration and his anxiousness most of all. Her human mate, she was learning to accept, was always a very strong, very diverse kaleidoscope of emotions all occurring at once. She realized she would need many more years of being his bondmate before she could read his moods with any ease or speedy accuracy. As opposed to a Vulcan, his emotional ‘read’ spiked wildly at sharp angles with little rhyme or reason. While at a glance a Vulcan’s mind might resemble a schematic, Trip’s was more like abstract art. Pleasing and to T’Pol’s taste, but more complex and convoluted to dissect than a Vulcan blue-print.

T’Pol always had appreciated a challenge.

She knew, just from knowing Trip Tucker, that he was preoccupied with the captain’s business at Starfleet Headquarters. In a moment of insight and concession, she admitted to herself that she too was curious what would come from the Terran council.

Chapter 22

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Nine of you have made comments

Another great chapter! It seemed to me that the story was drawing to a close, but this chapter may suggest otherwise. I'm looking forward to more.

Yet another awesome chapter! I just love the way you write the bond between Trip and T'Pol and your descriptions of what T'Pol feels from Trip. Great job!

Terrific as usual! I'm kind of curious as to what's going on at Starfleet myself. As always, can't wait for the next chapter! :)

Will it never end!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Just kidn! I love this story and would love it to go on for ever!!!!!

I love this story so so much. This was an awesome chapter. I like how well you depicted their bond and how much they have come to rely on each other.

Great descriptions of the bond. I look forward to the next part. Would like to hear the reactions of the Aires crew and Earth to what happened with T/TP.

I decided to start on this story for the holidays, but you made me read it in one sitting! This is fabulous! The descriptions of the bond are lovely. Please post soon!

Great again. I also wanna see the reaction of Aries and Earth to T/T'P and a visit to Vulcan would be nice.
Keep up the good work

Yeah, I'd like to see Trip's family's reactions to seeing T/T closer and a visit to T'Les would be fun too. In the end I don't really care as long as you keep writing!