Time After Time

Time After Time

By Aeryn Alexander

Rating: G

If you're lost you can look and you will find me
Time after time
If you fall I will catch you I'll be waiting
Time after time
~ Cyndi Lauper

Chapter One

Sleepless Nights

Commander Tucker couldn’t sleep again. It had been four days since the incident, since he had vanished from the Enterprise with Doctor Phlox and Sub-commander T’Pol. The memory of what had transpired during their little unexplainable adventure had not returned. The mystery of it was gnawing at the commander, not letting him get any sleep at night, which in turn caused him to be drowsy while on duty. His subordinates were beginning to notice. More importantly, so was Captain Archer, although he had yet to say anything to his chief engineer.
Trip sighed aloud and left his bed as he thought, "Maybe talking to Phlox would help. Or maybe he could at least give me something to make me sleep."
Tucker tossed on a uniform and trudged down the corridor to sickbay. His body felt exhausted, pushed to the limit, but his mind was wide awake and unhappily so. Everything had been going so well before that incident. A good night’s sleep was followed by a hard day’s work. Life had an understandable rhythm with which the commander was very satisfied. That rhythm was gone, perhaps forever, and that, as much as anything, pushed Tucker to search for answers to the question: what had happened during those several days when he had been lost, missing, with two of his crew mates?
When the glass doors of sickbay slid open with a muted hiss, Tucker was surprised to see Sub-commander T’Pol and Phlox seated at a table talking. Phlox paused mid sentence when he saw the slightly disheveled Tucker standing in the doorway. Then he smiled.
"Commander, what a pleasant surprise. The sub-commander and I were just talking about our little misadventure. Is this an official visit of some kind or will you care to join us?" questioned Phlox, gesturing toward an empty chair.
"I couldn’t sleep." admitted Trip.
"It looks as though you have not slept for some time." said T’Pol coolly. Perhaps she, after having several lengthy discussions with Phlox, thought better of her comment, as she added, "Neither have I."
"Because of whatever happened?" questioned Tucker, relieved to hear that he was not alone.
"Indeed."
Tucker looked at Phlox questioningly, but the doctor smiled and said, "I do not need to sleep as regularly as humans or Vulcans, but I too have been troubled, especially during my off-duty hours when I have more time to think."
"You were just about to recommend a course of action, doctor, when Commander Tucker walked in." the science officer reminded him.
"Ah, yes," sighed Phlox, "I believe I was." T’Pol arched an eyebrow at him and he continued, "Treatments used to restore memory are very experiment and potentially dangerous. There are no guarantees. But they do exist."
"Are you saying we could get our memories back? That we could remember what happened to us?" questioned Tucker in disbelief.
"It is a possibility, commander, although I am not recommending this as a physician. Any such procedure could have grave and lasting consequences." said Phlox.
"I feel like I’m going to lose my mind if I don’t figure out what happened. Sign me up, doc." said Trip.
"And me as well, doctor. I cannot perform my duties efficiently with an unsettled mind. I understand the risks and accept them as such." stated Sub-commander T’Pol.
"Very well." said Phlox, sounding as though he were merely conceding to their desire for the treatment. His tone could not hide his understandable trepidation. The good doctor was not one to do things, especially medical things, without the proper amount of good sense and necessity required. While he could comprehend quite well what the two officers were going through, he still winced, internally, at the idea of performing experimental procedures to treat their mental or emotional disquietude. "I will give you both something to help you sleep tonight and inform the captain that you will both be off active duty for several days at the least. Report here at the beginning of your shift tomorrow. That is when we will begin, if neither of you have objections." said Phlox in a very crisp, almost business-like tone.
"That will be most satisfactory." agreed T’Pol.
"Yeah." echoed Trip, who could hardly believe it. He had come to sickbay looking for a treatment for his insomnia, but it looked as though the doctor had the cure. It was much more than he had hoped for.

****

Chapter Two

Morning Decisions

The door chime rang the next morning just as Commander Tucker was running a comb through his hair one last time. He answered almost without thinking about it. When the door whisked open, Tucker was surprised to see his best friend and commanding officer standing there.

“Good morning, Jon. What can I do for you?” he asked pleasantly.

“Phlox has asked me to give you and T’Pol a temporary medical leave of absence. I know that T’Pol has her reasons, but I want to hear yours, Trip.” said Captain Archer.

“Did he explain to you about the procedure and everything?” questioned Trip, laying the comb aside and taking a deep breath. He could see it in his commanding officer’s eyes, Jon didn’t understand.

“Yes, and it sounds damn dangerous.”

“You know that I haven’t been able to sleep since we got back. Pretty soon the day’ll come when I can’t do my job. Maybe if I have some answers, maybe that day won’t have to come because of this.” he explained.

Archer sighed and looked away before telling Trip, “I didn’t know that it was that bad.”

“How would you like it if three days of your life were stolen? Wouldn’t it be hell to you too, Jon?”

“I see your point, but is it still worth the risk? I trust Phlox, but even he says that the procedure is experimental and potentially dangerous.”

“I have a tough time explaining it, Jon, but I feel the same way about him, especially here recently. I’m willing to put my life in his hands if that’s what it takes to give me some peace.”

Captain Archer took a good, long look at his friend and slowly nodded. He knew that peace of mind was worth a lot to everyone, but especially to the young engineer. Tucker valued the simple things in life and that outlook was patently incongruent with sleepless nights and endless questions that could not be answered. Trip had to have his answers and his certainty.

“I guess I understand a little better now.” said Archer. He shuffled his feet and asked, “Do you want me to be there?”

“No thanks, Jon. I would rather keep all of this as much between the three of us as possible. I suppose you could say that this thing’s given us a special bond.”

“Like the Three Musketeers?” chuckled the captain, though his eyes were still filled with an almost brotherly concern.

“Yeah.” laughed Trip softly.

“Then let me at least walk you down to sickbay.” said Archer, gesturing toward the door.

Two bio-beds had been prepared that morning. A stand containing numerous medical instruments was set up between them. Trip stood there looking at the arrangement for several minutes, considering what he was about to do. The Denobulan doctor, who was standing just behind him, cleared his throat before speaking.

“Are you ready, commander?” he questioned.

“Where’s T’Pol?” asked Tucker, turning to face Phlox. “She hasn’t chickened out, has she?”

“I have sent her to the mess hall to have something for breakfast. Unlike you, in addition to not sleeping well, she has also neglected her nutritional intake. She should not be long.” Phlox informed him.

“What should I be doing in the mean time?” questioned Trip, unconsciously shuffling his feet.

“You seem nervous, commander. Would you prefer to lie down while we wait?” asked the doctor.

“Nah, I’m all right. I just want to get this over with.” replied Commander Tucker. His shifted his weight from one foot to the other before inquiring, “Can I ask you something, doc?”

“Please.”

“Why are you performing both procedures at once?”

Phlox chuckled and explained, “It isn’t brain surgery, commander. Most of this will be done with chemicals and compounds and perhaps some electrical stimulation of the hippocampus.” Trip frowned. “That is part of both the human and Vulcan brain associated with memory.” he added.

Tucker was going to ask a few additional, albeit last minute, questions when the door of sickbay opened to reveal the ever calm and collected Vulcan sub-commander. She arched one eyebrow ever-so-slightly when she saw Tucker. She had anticipated that he would have second thoughts. She had her own misgivings about the arrangement. The risk was great and the reward uncertain. But she had underestimated the determination of her human crew mates on more than one occasion. This was just one more.

“Commander.” she acknowledged with that particular brand of stern, forced Vulcan politeness. The she turned to Phlox, who appeared to be calibrating or re-calibrating a medical tricorder. “When are we scheduled to begin the procedures?” she inquired placidly. Trip marveled at her composure.

“Whenever you are ready.” replied the good doctor.

As both Trip and T’Pol reclined on their respective bio-beds, he turned to her and said, “Good luck.”

“Why are you wishing me good luck, commander? I will have very little to do with the outcome of these procedures. If you want to wish someone luck, perhaps you should wish it to the doctor, although I doubt that this will affect the outcome either.” she informed him.

Trip, uncertain if she were joking, if she could be joking, looked up at the Denobulan physician who was filling two hyposprays.

Phlox simply chuckled and said, “Thank you both.”

******

Chapter Three

Torrent

Approximately seven hours had passed when T’Pol opened her eyes. At first everything was fuzzy and confusing to her. Then she sat up slowly and looked around, sorting out the flood of information that invaded her normally serene consciousness. She rubbed her eyes and shook her head to get rid of the torrent of remembered sights and sounds that had been dredged up from the hidden depths of her memory.

“These last couple of days, or how ever long it’s been, have been real special to me, T’Pol. I know the aliens told us that we’d forget everything once we go back through that temporal rift, but I want to remember this.”

“You are being sentimental.”

“Don’t I know it.”

“I have no more control over the loss of memory than you do, Trip, but if it were possible, if I could control the effects of the rift on our memories, I would also choose not to forget.”

“That means a lot.”

“It means nothing. Nevertheless, what we have had here, this closeness and fondness for one another, we may certainly have again someday in our own time. What has happened here between us may yet happen again.”

“Really?”

“It is only logical.”

Those had been theirs words, spoken between the commander and herself, and they rang loudly in her mind as she sat there on the bio-bed, sorting it all out. She had called him Trip, of all things. Then T’Pol felt her faced flush. She had shared a bed with him and kissed him! What had come over her? She could understand Commander Tucker behaving as he had. He was, after all, only human. But she was a Vulcan, and she had enjoyed those three days more than anything.

“Sub-commander, how are you feeling?” asked the cheery, but slightly concerned voice of the ship’s chief medical officer, who had been watching her since she had awakened.

“It is ... disconcerting, doctor, nothing more.” she replied, her head snapping up sharply as he spoke to her.

“Then it worked?”

“Yes.” she said, rubbing her eyes again. If T’Pol had been a less disciplined person, she might had plugged her ears as well.

“Is something wrong with your vision?” asked the doctor, reaching for his tricorder.

“No, doctor. Everything is fine.” she said, a hint of emotion, perhaps mild exasperation, in her voice.

“I have many questions, sub-commander, but they can wait until you are feeling less out of sorts.” Phlox assured her pleasantly.

“Thank you.” T’Pol said, finally turning her gaze toward Commander Tucker, who was still under sedation, as she had been. Her stomach tightened as she looked at his peaceful, softly smiling face. Her heart seemed to flutter in her chest as she asked herself in thought, “Is he remembering the kiss? The night we shared? Is he remembering ... me?”

Noticing that she was regarding Commander Tucker with some interest, although he did not question why, Phlox told her, “The commander has yet to regain consciousness. I imagine that he will do so within the hour.”

“Do you believe that the procedure will work as well for him?”

“It isn’t easy to say, but we will know for sure soon. You are free to rest in your quarters until then.”

“No, I think I would prefer to remain here, if that is permissible.”

*****

Chapter Four

Draught

Time passed at an incredibly slow rate for T’Pol as she sat in a chair in sickbay, mulling over her newly regained memories and trying to assess their repercussions. She had neglected to meditate for several days, mostly due to the stress of the environment and other factors, including surfacing emotions related to Commander Tucker. That was a possible explanation for much of what occurred, but it did not entirely explain why some of those emotions lingered, why she still felt something for the commander.

“I must simply meditate more until this passes.” she told herself. But the words were hollow and empty.

Then a terrible idea came into her mind: what if he reciprocated these feelings? She realized that Trip had been nicer to her, more helpful and less irritating since the incident. What if it were some unconscious drive to make her like him? The notion tied her stomach in knots, but the resulting effect was not entirely displeasing. In fact, a very small part of her wanted him to feel the same way, and that frightened her as much as anything else she had discovered.

The sound of a groan from the occupied bio-bed caused her to forget her confusing and illogical thoughts for a moment. Lifting her eyes from the floor, she could see the Trip was awake at last. Their eyes met as she rose to her feet.

“Aw, hell, no! They got Vulcan nurses now?” he blurted out, rubbing his head and squinting at her.

“Commander?” she questioned, frowning sternly at his response to her.

Phlox ambled over to the bed and began running a summary scan of the commander, who was eyeing T’Pol a bit suspiciously and apparently trying to get his bearings.

“I’m no commander. I’m just a cadet ..., ma’am.” Tucker informed her, casting a none too friendly glance at the alien doctor who was examining him.

Phlox looked up from his scan with an expression of surprise on his normally smiling and jovial face.

“Why do you think you’re here?” he inquired hesitantly, choosing not to address Tucker by name or rank.

“I can’t recall for the life of me, but I reckon I’ve been in some kind of accident. My head feels like it’s going to split open any minute.”

“I am a doctor. My name is Phlox. You are on board the Enterprise.” he informed Tucker slowly, filling a hypospray with Anaprovalin for the pain. “Can you tell me your name, the date, and the last thing you remember?”

“Cadet Charles Tucker III, March eighteenth, 2139, and ... I think was suiting up for some training on a small shuttlepod.” answered Tucker. He furrowed his brow and asked, “Did I crash? ‘Cause if that’s the case, I’m real sorry.”

“No, you didn’t crash, or at least I don’t think you crashed.” the doctor reassured him, glancing at T’Pol where she stood impassively watching them both.

“Then why am I in a medical facility presumably not on earth?” asked Tucker shrewdly.

“Perhaps we should take this slowly, commander.”

“There you go again, calling me a commander. That’s practically a dirty word. If you want to call me something, you can try Trip or cadet or, hell, even ensign, if you’re so inclined. I am just waiting for graduation, after all.”

“Why would that rank be a dirty word?” asked T’Pol.

Tucker looked at her sharply, as though he were trying to restrain himself and trying to remember something elusive at the same time.

“I guess you were never a cadet, were you?” he retorted, not too unkindly.

“It has been a number of years since my training.” she answered coolly.

“Say, doc,” he began to ask, returning his attention to the Denobulan, “why do you have a Vulcan in your sickbay?” He had wanted to ask the alien about himself, but he could think of a tactful way to do so.

“She is a patient.” he replied. The Phlox sighed and told Tucker, “I am afraid I have some explaining to do ..., cadet.”

Continue to Part 2

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