Your Mom 'n Me - Part I - sec. 2

Your Mom n' Me

By John O.

Rating: R for language and eventual sexual content - Romance/Drama/Series/AU
Disclaimer – Paramount owns the characters and everything Star Trek related. Unfortunately.

Spoilers: “Affliction,” “Bound,” maybe further but unintended.

A.N.: Notes are in the previous story. This is Chapter 3 to the Part I – Startling Discoveries. I must apologize to T’Jaan for forgetting to recognize and thank her for being my beta; and much more importantly, just for being around to bounce ideas off.

It’s going to be a good few days before the next release, finals are breathing down my neck – so hopefully this will keep you all sated for Chapter 4. I went ahead and released this chapter alone since it’s about twice as long as either Ch. 1 or 2 alone.

Part I – Startling Discoveries

section 2 (Chapter 3)

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Chapter 3

Several hours later Trip’s legs hung out of a plasma injection assembly, tangled in a jungle of sheered coolant pipes and severed wires.

“Hyperspanner,” Trip called out, hand outstretched through the shambles of Enterprise’s innards spilling out onto the floor. A nervous crewman loyally scrambled through the repair kit searching for the tool, her face reddened as the search proved futile. Commander Tucker’s temper was legendary among aspiring Starfleet engineers who dreamed of a posting like Enterprise. A few weeks into the assignment, the green new crewman realized she was not prepared for the repairs and constant system overhauls the Enterprise staff was expected to keep up with. The injector-test overload she felt she caused two days prior did little to boost her self confidence in the presence of such a legendary and intimidating engineer as Commander Tucker.

Trip poked his head out with a slightly agitated expression as Crewman 3rd Class Ibanez rummaged nervously through the toolkit. She turned towards the Commander, as stiff as a Vulcan, Trip noted. She’s gonna hafta lighten up to survive this job.

“I’m sorry sir, there isn’t -,” stuttering, the crewman flinched as Trip hoisted himself out of the access hatch.

“I can’t find one, sir,” the crewman winced, waiting for the explosion Starfleet lore spoke of, from Columbia to Enterprise. But the storm never came and Trip leisurely walked a few meters to Ensign Massaro’s work station, exchanged a word and grabbed a spanner. Returning with a slight grin the Commander added, “See, no trouble.” Ashamed, the crewman muttered an affirmative and turned back to her console to mentally chastise herself.

“Crewman, at attention!” Trip called to the young girl who bolted around like lightning. A cruel smile followed by a twinge of guilt hit Trip as he softly put a hand up to excuse himself, “Ibanez, I’m just kidding, relax, you’ve got to unwind or you’re gonna snap around here.”

The girl’s sheer terror at the bark of the Commander faded, replaced by a nervous smile. Her eyes darted while she realized that out of a few dozen Engineering crewmen he knew her by name. The worst case scenario infused her; he must know me because of the accident I caused. Her face reddened. Trip set the spanner down, throwing his arms across his chest.

“You’re new onboard right?” his question more of a statement, the young girl nodded an affirmative. “Fresh out of the Engineering Certification school?” Ibanez nodded again. Trip looked at her intently, the attractive young crewman started to see what all the Engineering staff were talking about, such dreamy eyes, allowing her to guard to fall under the weight of his smile.

Trip went on, “Well you’re gonna hafta relax around here if you wanna get anythin’ done, you were at the top of yer class, that’s how you got this posting, you got nothin' to be so self conscious about.”

Carly smiled that he knew her record. She wondered if he was as relaxed as he put on, gossip flew that he left Engineering that morning pretty upset and gunning right for Sickbay. There had been rumors that he and the Vulcan first officer were involved in some way, the news was even starting to get to Earth from some Columbia crew members. Ibanez recalled the story her classmate relayed from a brother serving under Commander Tucker during his brief stint on Columbia, apparently he was always pretty peeved at everyone… When she got to Enterprise, she heard some interesting rumors about why Trip transferred to Columbia. The rumors her friends talked about on Earth started to make more sense.

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

Ibanez and a group of friends, celebrating their graduation from Certification school, gathered at the 602 Club in San Francisco the night before many of them shipped out to new posts.

Roberts, a previous graduate and 2nd Class Engineering crewman had recently been assigned to the Columbia, to the envy of many of his friends. Draining his glass, he sneered at the new graduates and teased them.

“You better look where you stick your coilspanners cadets, you wouldn’t wanna take the hair off your Chief’s head the first day on the job would ya?” laughter erupted from the older crewmen.

Anastasia Carleton glanced in Carly Ibanez’s direction, “You better tell her that…” Ibanez turned red with shock.

“Ana!” she charged a finger in front her lips. But the word was out and the eyes around the table closed in on her, reclined chairs hit the floor in succession.

“Why,” Roberts shot a sarcastic grin at Ibanez. He’d been taunting her ever since she enlisted to be a crewman, always telling her how hard it was going to be when she got out. His look turned curious, decanting the reasons for her trepidation about whatever the secret was.

Taking a swig mid sentence he grinned at Carleton, “You make it sound like she got the Enterprise,” the roar of laughter indicative of their estimation of her chances at such a posting didn’t sit well with Carly. She turned up a wry smile and leaned forward while he dropped his glass, “And what if I did?” she asked with venom.

Daniels, Roberts’ bunkmate chimed in, “hey John you didn’t even make the Enterprise,” chuckles were heard around the table as John Roberts kicked his foot against the table and again reclined.

Grinning sadistically at Carly he fingered his glass as if sizing up her boldness. Did she really…Hmm… Well, she’s in for a treat.

“You just wait,” a laugh erupted from his throat as he glanced knowingly at Daniels, his shipmate aboard Columbia. “Tucker’s gonna be back on Enterprise any day now,” Daniels responded in a torrent of laughter. Ibanez looked at Daniels, she had always liked him more than John, he’s not nearly the jerk John is, she thought, rolling her eyes internally.

Daniels seemed to have the same information as Roberts, focusing her question on the less sardonic. “I thought Commander Tucker was on Columbia now?”

Daniels shifted his weight, draining his glass as he leaned against the wall of the bar nearest their overloaded table. Examining the bottom of his glass as a guilty smile came over his face suddenly he finally responded, “Let’s just say he doesn’t seem too happy on Columbia,” John instantly burst out into tears laughter.

“You could say that, he only berated you in front of the entire Engineering staff for miscalibrating the injector timings,” John lifted his glass to take a swig then dropped it to add, “for the third time in a row!”

Daniels continued, “The Commander just doesn’t seem to live up to the stories you hear about him. I mean when we heard he was gonna be our Chief Engineer a few of the senior officers who said he’d been friends with Captain Archer for years talked about him like he was this,” throwing his arms around in a joking manner.

“This big fun, down-home good ole’ boy kind of engineer, always havin' a good time,” Daniels looked up to see Ibanez staring at the table.

“Hell, he’s one of the youngest Chief Engineers in Starfleet history, I figured he’d be a great guy to be around,” Daniels added, eyeing the mesmerized Ibanez.

She was deep in imagining the debonair southerner even Academy cadets hear about all the way back on Earth. She’d seen pictures of him, he was pretty gorgeous, she joked to herself, combining Daniels’ description of a good natured country boy.

Interrupting her daydream, “But that ain’t the Commander Tucker we know,” Roberts shot in. Daniels added, “Uh uh, seemed like he was always upset about somethin'. And do you remember,” he motioned to John with the hand holding his glass, “when you walked up to him with the specs for the status report and he was just sittin' there starin' off into space for a good two minutes before he even noticed you were there.”

Setting his glass on the table and taking a chair from an adjacent table, Daniels plopped down in it backward, throwing his elbows over the back.

“I don’t know, maybe he’s changed. Somethin’s definitely wrong with the guy. Some people are just sullen in personality, but that’s not the Trip Tucker my father talks about. The Commander was on an engineering team my father oversaw during the NX project as a military advisor. When I told my father he was transferring over he launched into story after story about Tucker’s shenanigans. He said he never met a guy more fun to be around.”

A silence held the group as a few crewmen began dwindling back to their cabins to turn in for the stressful morning to come. As a few crewmen exchanged goodbyes, Ibanez looked up from her recent daydream towards Daniels. He craned his neck to inspect the number of remaining cadets before he pulled his chair closer to the handful of remaining close friends.

“You know there’s a rumor about why Tucker left the Enterprise ,” Roberts whispered, as John laughed as he reclined.

“Not that old story again, I’m telling ya a Vulcan would never date a human, she’d be disowned from the planet,” John laughed at his own joke. Carly looked back from John to Daniels, “Go on, you mean Commander T’…T’Pring?” unsure of the name, Carly was never good with Vulcan names.

“T’Pol,” Daniels corrected, “see, when the Enterprise got back from the Xindi mission, all the crew were allowed to go on leave.” Anastasia nodded, “of course, they were on a deep space mission for almost a year.”

“But I have it on good authority that Tucker didn’t stay on Earth for his shore leave, didn’t even spend it with his parents,” Ana’s face held her doubt for all to see.

“You do huh? What’d you do, follow him around on his shore leave?” her eyes drew into a squint as she mocked him, “so what’d he do then Sherlock if he didn’t go see his parents, marry Subcommander T’Pol?” Carly laughed with her.

“Actually my brother piloted the transport shuttle that Commander Tucker and Subcommander T’Pol took to Vulcan together,” the last few words hung in the air as Ana and Carly sat in shock. Daniels lifted his glass high in the air, caught the bartender’s eye before turning back to the pair.

“I don’t know, it could have been nothing, my brother mentioned that he overheard Subcommander T’Pol talking about meeting someone named T’Les from the Science Academy. It could have just been a professional visit,” Carly murmured to herself absently but Ana stared on in shock.

The bartender brought Daniels another drink and he exchanged a word with him before lifting it. He didn’t make it halfway to his mouth before he caught Ana’s face in a ghostly stare into the table. “Ana, you all right?”

“You did say T’Les, right?” she asked intensely.

“Uh, yeah,” he chuckled, “why, you know any Vulcans by that name that we’re not aware of,” John joined his amusement.

Daniels was taking a deep gulp when Ana replied, “Yeah, that’s T’Pol’s mother.” A moment later a torrent of Daniels’ beer covered two wailing engineering graduates as they jumped from the table searching for towels. John was nearly falling out of his chair, beside himself the hilarity of Daniels’ “surprise” to the discovery. The girls ran off to find help while Daniels tried with futility to cough up the beer still stuck in his nose and in all the wrong pipes. In tears, John banged on the table until his hand was red, “I can’t believe you just caked them, those girls’ll never come out with us again!” John didn’t seem to care that the four may have just discovered that Charles Tucker went home with the Vulcan to meet her mother he was too enthralled with the girls’ disarray.

In the corner of the bar Carly and Ana angrily rubbed at their uniforms with clean cloth. Satisfied with the job, Carly looked up at Ana, “Is that really her mother’s name?”

Ana tossed her hair to one side, “It’s not only her mother’s name, her mother’s a professor at the Vulcan Science Directorate!” The connection was impossible to deny, as Carly realized.

“How do you know all this, I mean about the Vulcans?” Carly inquired.

“My father works in the diplomatic corps remember? Before the Xindi attack it seemed like every other day he was talking about something the Vulcans were angry about because of Enterprise. My father said their ambassador was always trying to think of a reason to remove Subcommander T’Pol from the joint mission program.”

She resumed rubbing at her shirt as she cursed Daniels.
Ana laughed, “Now I know why.”

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

“May I ask you something, Commander?” as Trip was returning to his access hatch he doubled back, surprised to finally hear the silent crewman speak.

“Sure,” suddenly she was unsure how to phrase her query without crossing a serious command boundary.

“Well, everyone around here is pretty upset about Commander T’Pol’s condition in sickbay,” she trailed off, unsure if she should continue when Tucker visibly winced at the mention of the first officer.

As Trip nodded, she continued, “I haven’t been a member of the crew very long but I know when a comrade suffers such a terrible accident it can be terribly distracting. I understand you and the Commander were close friends,” she breathed hoping the Commander wouldn’t shut her down right there for dancing on the line.

“Commander, you of all of us must be the most concerned about T’Pol, how can you stay so calm when getting warp power back may be the only thing that can save her life?” suddenly Ibanez worried she may have just made a distracted man feel worse.

She started to apologize but Tucker threw a hand up, accompanied by a weak smile, “No, it’s all right I understand what you’re sayin'. The fact is we’ve been through a lot of dangerous situations on this ship, hopefully you won’t see nearly as many as we have in the past year. But when you go through that much you learn that keeping your cool and your mind on the work is the only thing that you can do when lives depend on you.”

Ibanez was certainly surprised to hear the Commander so sincere, most of the time he seemed like a joker one moment and a storm of obscenities the next.

Ibanez nodded and lowered her head, allowing Tucker a comfortable moment to turn back to work but he continued. “I know that us gettin' engines back up may be the only thing that can save T’Pol’s life, but that just focuses my attention on my work even more,” his eyes seemed far away.

Eyes glazed over Trip muttered, “We just hafta get her to Vulcan safely, that’s all there is to it.”

Suddenly he was drawn back to the present, “Don’t worry you’ll learn to deal with the stress, just try to stop worryin' about messin' up, you’re a talented engineer.”

He smiled and added before returning to work, “And Ibanez, don’t worry about the injector test, wasn’t your fault,” with a smile she returned to her console.

--------------------

Archer craned his neck around the partition as the Doctor continued, taking in Trip’s gesticulations as he spoke to T’Pol on the other side of sickbay.

“How long does she have if we can’t make it to Vulcan, is there any chance you can treat her here?” Jon looked at Phlox as the doctor sighed heavily.

“I’m sorry Captain, there’s nothing I can do for her. Her synaptic injuries are far too extensive; it’s beyond our medical capability to treat this level of synaptic degradation. The specificity of axonal fragmentation is far too selective for my micro-regenerative therapies.”

“What makes you think the Vulcans can help her, their medical technology isn’t all that much more advanced than Starfleet’s is it?” the captain had a slight hint of irritation in his voice when he realized the fate of his First Officer, who happened to be Vulcan, may just now be sealed by the Vulcan High Command’s continued refusal to release some of their technology to Starfleet.

Phlox glanced at Mr. Tucker, noting he would have to ask him to leave soon.

“It is unlikely the Vulcans will have sufficient medical technology to devise a superior treatment.” Jonathan fidgeted, he hated it when Phlox split hairs.

“I don’t understand, why did you say the only chance to save T’Pol’s life was to get her to Vulcan, now you’re saying they can’t do anything for her?”

Archer feared his voice may have carried enough for Trip to over-hear, he shifted and regained his ‘Captain-face’.

“The Vulcans won’t be able to cure her, medically, but I believe there’s a chance they may have some…less orthodox methods of assisting her recovery. I want to show you something, Captain.”
Phlox led him to a display a few meters away. The captain stared at some kind of neural readouts, he assumed from T’Pol, “You’re going to have to help me with this Phlox.” Phlox knows I wouldn’t get this, he always makes me ask Jonathan thought with a hint of irritation.

“T’Pol’s cerebrum is regenerating,” Phlox pointed to an area of the screen and suddenly a small region of the readout was enlarged. Archer noticed the tiny axonal pathways slowly re-aligning, slithering around like microscopic snakes.

“Like I said, I haven’t been able to treat her,” Phlox added with a befuddled look, “they’re regenerating on their own, at a rate of half a dozen or so a day. But that won’t be fast enough Captain,” he added, Archer waited. The doctor’s morose tone returned.

“At the current rate of fragmentation her cerebral cortex will begin to atrophy on a molecular level and eventually her brain won’t be capable of receiving and analyzing sensory information. This will happen long before the regeneration can repair enough axonal pathways for the cerebral functions to reassert themselves. She will essentially be brain dead. In fact she is very close to that now, but…I don’t have the heart to tell Mister Tucker that she certainly cannot hear him.”

Phlox looked on somberly at Trip’s hand lying atop the bed-stricken Vulcan’s and muttered, “Perhaps it will serve to assist his recovery.” Both Phlox and Archer remained silent for several moments.

“But if we can speed up the rate of regeneration?” Jon asked, waiting for Phlox to explain how the Vulcans might do that. Phlox sighed, “The Vulcans keep a lot of their neurophysiology a ‘state secret’ as you might say, they don’t like sharing some of the finer points of it with other species. It is possible they may be able to accelerate this regenerative capacity enough for T’Pol’s cerebral cortex to reassert itself.” The Captain wondered just how much damage all of this trauma would leave behind.

“If the Vulcans can help her, will she suffer any permanent brain damage?”

Shaking his head Phlox replied, “It’s impossible to say at this point Captain. And unfortunately I don’t know how long she has until the degradation will be irreversible either, it is likely only the Vulcans can say.”

Phlox looked pensive, “I assume repairs are already underway?” Jonathan looked again at Trip and nodded, “Trip thinks it’ll take a four to five days to get the starboard nacelle fully up to speed, when they’re back up I think we’ll get warp 4.8, maybe 4.9 long enough to get to Vulcan.”

Phlox nodded, suddenly turning his attention to Trip. Shifting gears along with him Jon asked, “How long has he been here anyway?”

Phlox peered at the chronometer on his desk across the room, “three hours now, at least. I would think he would be more concerned with finishing repairs. Obviously the Commander’s condition is very…important to him,” Phlox laid heavy emphasis on the operative word, ‘important’. The truth was Trip couldn’t get T’Pol off his mind all day while working in Engineering. He couldn’t be carrying out repairs right now even if he wanted to, Archer had seen to that.

The captain turned to Phlox, “Actually we practically had to throw him out of Engineering, he’d been working for damn near twenty hours and was starting to get a little testy. When I came down to ask for a status report he nearly bit my head off,” the captain chuckled.

“Of course you know Trip, he jumped to apologize and I could see he was exhausted so I told him to go get some rest. Looks like he found something better to do with his time,” Jon managed a light smile at his friend.

“Doc make sure he gets a little rest before he goes back to work.” Archer ordered, lifting his eyebrows. The doctor managed a small grin and nodded.

“Excuse me, doctor. Keep me updated if anything changes, I’ll be on the bridge.” Phlox nodded and Archer made for the door.

******************
***3 hours earlier***
******************

Trip walked the corridors toward his quarters after a long shift in Engineering. Can’t believe the cap’n relieved me of duty to rest, Trip thought. My eyes are startin' to get a little heavy, but I just can’t sit around while T’Pol’s layer up like that… Finally arriving at his quarters he went inside, pulling his uniform down. I guess I did sorta snap at him, I can ‘magine I musta seemed pretty irate… he recalled as he stripped down to take a nice hot shower. His mind drifted back to the engine repairs, he knew it was important they get them running as quickly as possible… He didn’t have to see neurological readouts to know that.

As the water washed over him, an idea that might allow Enterprise to cruise at warp 5.2 or 5.3 worked its way through his analytical mind. Diagnostic readouts after the Klingons sabotaged the warp subroutines had provided valuable information about the stresses those speeds put on various engine components. Maybe I can find a way to reinforce the manifold trusses, hold that speed long enough to cut a day off the trip to Vulcan…

The hot water washed over his face, scrubbing the grime of nearly twenty hours in Engineering off and soothing the engineer’s tattered soul.

Suddenly his thoughts returned to the woman lying in sickbay, his face falling into his hands. The worry overtook him, a sudden rush of possession took over and he realized that some part of him wished to belong to some part of her. For only the right to be there with her until the end, he wanted to belong to her. In the middle of the night, lying alone in sickbay was the woman he now realized he still loved, dying.

Well there ain’t nothing for that, I’m goin' to her and Phlox be damned!

Yanking the nozzle, the water was extinguished and Trip was out of the shower and halfway dressed in only a few seconds. Thoughts were running through his mind a mile a minute, I can’t lose her and not even be there in her final moments, I can’t lose another one I love and not even be there… his mind kept repeating. Throwing on civilian clothes (as he was off duty, forcibly), Charles Tucker left his quarters and past him strolled a pair of ensigns. Gawking curiously at his wet hair, the stare he got from them made him realize he’d barely dried himself. Stopped in his tracks, he headed back to his cabin, only to stop three steps later and turn around again. Screw it! I’m just goin’ to sickbay.

A few minutes later a stern-faced and droopy-eyed Commander Tucker walked into sickbay without relent and without sleep. As Phlox approached and opened his mouth Tucker scrunched his face into the most defiant scowl he could muster and threw up a single finger. The doctor stopped as if a brick had hit him and considered the gesture.

Trip then raised the finger back to his face and placed it in front of his lips, then slowly pointed it to T’Pol’s bed. I’ll be quiet doc, but damnit I’m goin' to see her! his gaze echoed his mind.

“Oh all right,” Phlox conceded.

Trip walked slowly to her bed and plopped into the chair the doctor had placed on her right side for visitors. T’Pol didn’t get many, however; none who visited stayed for an extended period besides the Captain and Trip Tucker. On occasion over the past two days of her ordeal a few members of the senior staff had asked if they could look in on her during casual visits to sickbay. It was no indication, however, that Commander Tucker and Captain Archer were the only crewmembers who were touched by the accident that befallen the stolid Vulcan. Over the past four years she had undeniably warmed up to the crew – and they to her.

She was a member of the family as assuredly as Mr. Tucker himself, but not everyone was comfortable visiting the Commander during her injury. The doctor had abstained from advertising visiting hours as peace and quiet were the most likely treatments to maintain her stable condition.

But there was zero reluctance in the blue eyes of the boyish face gracing her features at the moment. There was no human-Vulcan discomfort, no detachment from her presence that every other human onboard Enterprise experienced when in the same room as T’Pol. Every member of the crew had come to accept her, most had come even to like her and smile at her stoic remarks and logic-ridden arguments. But only a few had come to earn the right and gain the courage to flout her logic to her face and smile in defiance to it. Only Trip and the Captain knew that she would receive their quips at her logic with her stoic joviality, that she would understand the human pretension for friendly disparagement. Something else separated the connection she held with those two.

Only Trip had challenged her at every step of her integration with a human crew, only Trip had been able to go toe to toe in an argument and make her enjoy it, though she’d die before letting him see it. Somehow he always knew she liked it, with no outward sign of enjoyment and every outward sign of irritation. Somehow he alone had ceased to be convinced by her icy exterior, and it fascinated her to no end.

With his hand atop hers he studied her features, a slight smile tugging at his lips. “I don’t know, T’Pol, if you can hear me but …” trailing off, the Commander was oblivious to the doctor craning his head around a storage shelf. Suddenly he laughed, “you remember that time we went down to survey the first Minshara-class planet we came across at the beginning of our mission. The cap'n and I were so eager ta just get in the grass an’ play with Porthos, we jumped off the shuttle ahead a’ you and the rest of the away team shuffled out ready to have a good time before you turned on 'em like a rabid dog and started barkin' orders.”

Trip laughed through a tear, “I think I actually heard Elliot groan when you started issuing orders as me and the cap’n wandered off. But you’d know better, with them ears a yers,” allowing a hand to her face to trace the edge up to the point. Relaxing against her skin his fingers fell to the flesh beneath the ear and stroked down her neck. Pulling away, he was suddenly filled with panic that she could simply slip away at any moment without warning. Whether I’m here er not that can’t happen, I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you again, for good…forever…

The doctor eyed Trip silently from across sickbay but refrained from pulling the talkative visitor from her side.

Rubbing his face as the exhaustion began to wash over him once again; Trip found a tear in his eye and wiped it away. He remained there, hands protecting his eyes from falling on the ill-fated form of T’Pol of Vulcan lying in sickbay. Hands over his eyes like a frightened little boy, Trip was terrified that if he opened them he would see the monster under the bed – the dying body of the woman he couldn’t forget. She who he could not help but love.

But courage got the best of his fear and drug his fingers down, eyes falling upon her closed lids, wishing to lift them to see her looking up at him. He missed the life that sparkled there, the tiny twinges of her lips when he baited her and she nearly broke a smile on the outside. He missed the quiet moments when her defenses fell, when her eyes locked with his. For the briefest of moments when they connected she wasn’t Vulcan and he wasn’t human – they were just close, intimate. Certain information is intimate, he recalled T’Pol explaining when she gave away her age. If only now he could talk to the woman who called their connection intimate. He felt invincible to fear... “I would tell you everything,” the words came in a whisper, barely escaping his lips as he curled two fingers under the palm of her hand along her bedside.

Exhaling loudly, “I don’t ‘spose I’m gonna do ya any good poutin' to ya while you’re lyin' there. Might as well tell ya bout the warp upgrades we’re workin' on to get ya home faster.”

“Ya remember the Klingon sabotage, well bout the only thing I didn’t fry with the restart were the diagnostic logs…”

******************
****3 hours later***
******************

As Archer left sickbay after his conversation with Phlox on T’Pol’s odd but “too little too late” neural-regeneration”, Phlox approached T’Pol’s corner of sickbay.

“Commander,” Phlox called in an accusatory tone.

“You haven’t slept again, have you?” The doctor approached Trip as he was shuffling towards the sickbay doors on his way back to work.

“Doc I’m on the way back to Engineerin’, I got an engine to test.” Phlox sneered, “Commander I just spoke with the Captain I believe your ‘injector-test’ concluded well over two hours ago,” the doctor watched as Trip’s face fell into puzzlement.

“You mean I was here that long?” glancing back at T’Pol’s bed he suddenly felt guilty about abandoning the Engineering crew. Then again he was off duty anyway, his next official shift didn’t start for another six hours. No one had noticed Trip work any less than a double or often a triple shift ever since returning from Vulcan. Neuropressure hadn’t exactly been an option to relieve sleeplessness lately.

“No, Mister Tucker you will go to your quarters and rest for at least six hours,” Trip groaned, “but my shift starts in six hours, I can’t rush in there all bleary-eyed,” the engineer protested. Phlox wondered if he would ever get Commander Tucker to take proper care of himself, he had noticed a steady decline in his mood and general health for months now.

“Five. Not a minute less or I will relieve you of duty indefinitely!” Phlox wasn’t bluffing and stabbed a finger into the air to prove it. He understood and even at times admired Commander Tucker’s work ethic but enough was enough, the man was practically killing himself with over-exhaustion. Tucker nodded in surrender and departed wearily.

Finding his way to his cabin without droning off mid-stride became exceedingly difficult as the cares of the day pulled on his eyelids. Shuffling through the door and collapsing into his bunk, Trip’s conscious mind drifted to memories he had shared with T’Pol’s sleeping form. Sleeping, mmm. Sleep’d be nice, but she needs me…¸ he groaned in half conscious thought. Finally submitting to his fatigue, he issue one final plea to the darkness. Darlin' you just better wake up.

And with that, away drifted the cares of Engineering, making room for surprisingly pleasant dreams of raised eyebrows and courting banter.

--------------------

The next three days progressed similar to the first after T’Pol’s accident. The engineering crews worked day and night to repair the fried nacelle, Trip and a few of his top engineers labored of their own volition during off-duty hours. They believed it would be possible to improve the engine stability at warp exceeding factor 5.1 while T’Pol remained comatose in sickbay.

Repairs were behind schedule and Trip was becoming exceedingly agitated as each day went by and T’Pol’s condition remained largely unchanged. Each day after a double shift he went to sickbay and spent as much time as the doctor would allow him with her. The first day of her accident Phlox had allowed the Commander an extended visit but each day kicked him out sooner. Trip worried that the doctor’s increasing protectiveness meant her condition was getting worse and each night left him more sleepless than the last.

But seeing T’Pol always helped to calm his nerves about the day’s work. He’d sit and tell her how repairs were going, how the manifold housings were being reinforced or how the intermix ratio was being tweaked. Trip even let a smile or two slip when he grew tired of engineering updates and fell into a reverie of recalling detritus of their experiences together aboard Enterprise. His eyes shone with a faint glimmer covered in sadness when he recalled to her silent form how proud he was when she defied Soval to defend their mission in front of Starfleet brass, how crushed his heart had been to see her look so beautiful at her wedding to Koss. How much it tore him to give her search for Surak his blessing even when it meant his own broken heart.

He thought to himself, somehow it seems wrong that I could only tell you these things that are so close to my heart when you may not be around to hear em.Slapping himself for already writing her epitaph, Trip rubbed his eyes and rose to return to his quarters for a few hours’ rest before meeting Hess in Engineering to finalize the engine modifications. The repair crews need a kick in the ass he thought as he looked forward to focusing his attentions back on getting the ship moving before worrying about how fast.

Phlox approached Trip, “Commander,” Trip jumped like a wildcat at the first sign of a predator.

“Doc I’m goin' to sleep, I swear,” but Phlox only forced a weak grin.

“Actually, I was going to ask if you would prefer to… rest here,” a giant but strained grin graced Phlox’s veneer. Trip’s eyebrows shot up and he remained in a cat-like defense posture. He almost asked why he was in such a good mood then decided against it. Best not to look a gift horse in’a mouth.

“Sure,” jutting a thumb to the biobed next to T’Pol’s, “mind if I just crash there for a few hours, I’ll be headin' back to Engineerin after that.” Phlox nodded. Heading for the biobed, Trip turned back to Phlox, “It’ll be nice to be closer to her,” he said trailing off. He felt a bit sheepish, simply saying, “Thanks, Doc.”

Lying on the biobed, Trip turned onto his left side, trying to get comfortable. How can you sleep on this thing, T’Pol? Trip mused to himself. Just then his eyes fell on her silent profile a few meters away. Her chest rising slowly and regularly, the emptiness of T’Pol’s face struck Trip like a switch as he realized how much fire and life were normally behind those eyes. He was glad to see the burns on her chest had healed, Phlox did remarkable work removing the scar tissue on her face and torso.

His mind wandered down her form, realizing for the first time how petite she was, how small and vulnerable. Her superior Vulcan strength could not help ward off a cellular degradation, no matter how many Klingons it could defeat. He missed her eyes open, bright and full of life. Everyone thought she was cold as an Andorian icicle, but he knew too well what lie behind the controlled countenance. Only now there was nothing.

He watched her breathe, terrified that the moment his eyes slipped shut she might stop. But the darkness crept in despite him, just as Trip realized only a week ago there were a hundred reasons he couldn’t tell her how he felt.

Only now he couldn’t remember a single one.

--------------------

Trip dozed for two hours and then awoke in the middle of a quiet sickbay and lifted himself from the biobed. The lights were dimmed, sending a shimmering hue of blues across sickbay from Phlox’s menagerie of devices and exotic creatures. Dr. Phlox was nowhere to be seen so Trip went to T’Pol’s side, rubbing his eyes unconsciously to lift the sleep from them. Even when he slept six or seven hours these days it seemed as if he felt the same as when he slept two. A cloud of inescapable duress had descended upon his waking thoughts.

It was then that he realized T’Pol’s hand was in his, but how it got there he failed to recall. He rested his upper body on her bed, careful not to disturb her weeklong slumber, his head closely nudged into her side. It was there, in the silence of a blue-hewn sickbay, tucked away from the chaos of the rest of the ship, hunched over with one hand under hers, half-seated in the chair beside her that Charles Tucker dozed off.

He awoke some time later from disturbing dreams, images of T’Pol reaching out for him, her trembling cries showing no hint of the control she wielded in life. The images of her terrified eyes and flailing arms haunted him and he sought to clear his head with a walk around the corridors.

Trip stood to rise, when a finger of T'Pol's hand ever so lightly squeezed against the departing engineer's grasp. Like a bolt of lightning shot through Trip’s body, every molecule in him seemed to stop and gasp.

Part I, sec. 3 (Chapters 4-7)

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A whole mess of folks have made comments

awwwwwwwwww, sweet.

beautiful. and you are so evil, leaving it at that part. little sneak--just had to put that last little jolt of connection in there. now i'm very eager for more!

You ended it with T'Pol's hand sqeezing his?! You're evil, John! :) You can't just stop there! Uggghhhh! Okay, I guess I'll have to wait until you get your finals done to get another fix. ;) Eagerly awaiting the next installment.

Hahaha, I knew you all'd be furious!

That last sentence was actually added last minute to emphasize that this was a big deal, just in case the dullness of the 2nd to last sentence gave the impression that it was just "eh, she squeezed, wutev" kinda thing ;)

I'll bring you 4 and 5 on oh....Sunday or Monday. More likely Monday.

:) It´s always a pleasure, John!

But you´re really evil - to take a break at that point! ;)

Well, just write on like this (but don´t forget to study) and your readers will love you and your story more and more with every part!

John O., you're cruel! But I'm still loving this! Can't wait for SUNDAY. (hint, hint.) Not Monday. :D

Harsh cliffhanger! Great chapter - looking forward to more.

Best wishes on your exams...

I hate cliffies. We're all quoting Trip: "Ya can't stop there!"

Excellent story, John! I can't wait for it to continue.

Smart Phlox instinctively knowing that letting Trip stay in sickbay would help T'Pol as well as our favourite Engineer! Very good, can't wait for more. Ali D :~)

Enjoying it a lot - anxiously waiting for the next chapter(s)???

Nice chapter - I like hearing about Trip as the chief engineer through a third parties eyes :) Can't wait for the update!

Bout Bloody time somethin else positive happened In Polly's condition! Great story John. Not to bug ya but I really hope this is the begining of big inporvement in T'pol recovery. Cant wait for your next update.

LOL - Mitchell, I know you were shocked to see me hurt T'Pol. It's not easy but our Trippy had to realize what he almost lost.

Same for T'Pol, knockin on Death's Door is a surefire kick in the pants for these two ;)

That is horrible to what you did to us. That was great but so mean. I guess I'm just going to have to wait for the next one. Great story.

More! More, I say! Can't wait, can't wait, this is sooooo good! :)

LOL - well I'm incredibly gratified you all enjoy it so much. I really enjoy other ficwriters when I get upset about Enterprise ending, so it's an honor to reciprocate the service to my fellow trekkies :D

*gasp* OMG, I'm gonna cry!

You can't stop there!!! That's not fair...LOL. Great chapter. Can't wait for the next one.

John,
What a touching scene! I really like what you've done with the neuroscience here, too. Just enough actual science mixed in with the Trekspeak to make it believable. Good job!

I thought that t'pol and tucker were bonded together, but in the last episode of the series they were broke up, how twisted is that, how could the writers of the show let it end like that, i think the people on this site expected better.

Well, I had heard the spoilers of it...I'll do my best to get the next part out for you all to revel in sweet TnT-lovey-doviness.

I'll get it out on Sunday I promise!

Well, I had heard the spoilers of it...I'll do my best to get the next part out for you all to revel in sweet TnT-lovey-doviness.

I'll get it out on Sunday I promise!

I'm relieved that you do eventually plan to have T'pol recover. After watching the series finale last night, I am in serious need of a happy ending. Of course I also want to take the script writers out and shoot them... but so far I am successfully controlling that impulse. How about all of us agreeing to pretend those ridiculous last two episodes never existed? That way we can write our own happy endings!

Fantastic story John! Can't wait for the next chapter!