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Like a Phoenix from the Fire – Part 7
Season 3.5 - Summer Fan Fiction Challenge
Like a Phoenix from the Fire – Part 7
Category of the plot summary from the list below – Plot #10
Disclaimer: All things Trek, even Enterprise – the prequel, are Paramount’s – my passion for Trip and T’Pol, well that’s mine.
A short summary statement:
Although there are spoilers this story assumes that the season three cliff-hanger never occurred. T'Pol discovers the damage done by the Trellium D can be reversed. She decides to go through with the treatment, knowing she may lose access to the emotions she has unleashed, and that she may have to suppress her new emotions permanently as she has to do with all her emotions. What happens to her relationship with Trip? How does this change her views of herself?
The sound of the doorbell awoke T’Pol from a deep sleep. She threw off the blanket that had kept the chill out and scrambled to her feet. Somewhat disoriented she answered the incessant ring.
A damp Phlox and his medical bag greeted her. “You said that I could drop by this afternoon –
“A novel idea, a doctor who makes house calls.” T’Pol stepped back to grant him entrance. “May I take your coat, Phlox?”
T’Pol hung the coat from a hook on the wall hidden behind the open door. Phlox removed his damp shoes to protect the vast, shiny polished wood floor.
“Shall we start with the tour or the examination?”
Phlox thought for a moment, “The examination, the tour then a cup of that tea you like so well.”
T’Pol led him into the parlour where she had been resting on the couch. She stooped to collect the blanket that lay crumpled on the floor. She sank into one of the two chairs situated in front of the fireplace. Phlox took the other and opened his medical bag.
“How have you been,” was the question he asked while adjusting his medical scanner.
“Tired,” was the simplest answer. “Lethargic. Disinterested.”
Phlox passed the scanner over T’Pol’s body, “That is to be expected. You are recovering from months of trauma. Post-traumatic stress syndrome is to be expected.”
Phlox removed a hypospray from his bag. “Have you been meditating?”
“Not effectively,” was a major admission.
The hiss of the hypo interrupted the conversation.
T’Pol looked quizzically at the doctor. “Just a vitamin cocktail. You aren’t eating properly are you?”
A nod from T’Pol confirmed his suspicion.
“Tell me about the house.” The doctor knelt on the hearth to begin building a fire in the grate.
“It seems that Commander Tucker has an appreciation for the painted ladies of San Francisco.” T’Pol leaned forward as a tiny flame began to consume the tinder.
Phlox settled back into his seat, still holding the poker he had used to adjust the logs. “This is a protected neighbourhood. It is very difficult to acquire a Victorian on Alamo Square.”
“He did not acquire it,” she admitted, “I did nearly forty years ago. I burned the mortgage in that grate the night before Enterprise left dry dock.”
“I mentioned it to him once during a neuropressure session.” T’Pol held her hands toward the welcome heat. “I still do not know why, since I had told no one in the 40 years since I had purchased it. He asked innumerable questions.”
Phlox smiled. The Commander was famous for his incessant questions when he was engaged by a subject.
“I explained that I had maintained the integrity of the building and kept the exterior painted to meet the municipal code, but had done nothing on the inside.”
Phlox looked at the gleaming floors, the beautifully restored woodwork and the white walls in surprise.
“While we were in Scotland, unbeknownst to me, he had hired a team of restorers to prepare the house for our return.”
“The white walls aren’t traditional, are they?” Phlox scanned her again.
“You are correct,” T’Pol sighed, “I asked him why he had chosen white paint for the interior he said he wanted a blank canvas that we could colour with our lives.”
Phlox pushed the save button on the scanner. “Is there a relation between colour and Commander Tucker in your mind?”
Phlox did not miss the startled look she gave him.
“When you think of my people, Phlox, what colour do you associate with them?”
Phlox did not hesitate, “Grey, like a stormy sky just before a gust of rain.”
“Gloomy,” concluded T’Pol. “We live on a hot planet under a red sun. Yet we eschew colour the way we eschew emotion.”
Phlox waited while she considered what to say next.
“Commander Tucker brought colour back into my life,” she played with the blanket in her lap, “From the moment we met. He poked and prodded and pushed. In the beginning he was flame and fire, neon perhaps then as we became more comfortable with each other he taught me the meaning of teal and rose and evergreen.”
“Colour and emotion are intrinsically linked biologically,” Phlox reminded her, but she was not listening.
“I have regained control of my emotions. I am calm again.” T’Pol, Phlox felt, was on the verge of a major confession. “But that is no longer enough. I want, no I need, colour in my life, like a glittering thread running through talaxian silk.”
The Vulcan delegation moved slowly, a fact that would have annoyed the Commander at one time. But now that he was experiencing the Vulcan heat he understood how the cultural habit of deliberate slow movement arose. What appeared on Earth to be controlling behaviours were merely a cultural adaptation he observed silently. He made a mental note to try a slower hand the next time he and T’Pol shared a bed.
“Commander Tucker, welcome to Vulcan.”
The most imposing male of the trio stepped forward. He was two inches taller and 15 kilos heavier than Trip. His long formal robes did not hide the trim, muscular body that filled them out.
“Chief of Staff Koval?” Trip waited for confirmation.
“At your service,” he bowed then turned slightly, “My colleagues, Sark and Tuvell.”
“Pleased to meet you.” Trip turned the automatic desire to proffer his hand in greeting into a Vulcan salute – hand raised, palm forward, with his fingers forming a vee. “Live long and prosper.”
Koval signalled to someone out of Trip’s line of sight. “Since our talks are informal I thought you might enjoy meeting outdoors under the sun. We can enjoy some light refreshment as we chat.”
The enemy had struck the first blow. The Commander was certain that Koval was aware of his sensitivity to heat. The Vulcan’s had a file on every Enterprise crew member that spanned his or her career.
“Well actually, I was hopin’ we could begin our conversation this evening.” Trip countered, “I would prefer to settle into my accommodations and get cleaned up. You know, remove the dust of travel from my clothes and person?”
Koval had no choice but to bend his will to that of the Human. The rule of hospitality could not be ignored. Perhaps I have underestimated T’Pol’s choice? Koval rethought his strategy.
End of Part 7
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A whole mess of folks have made comments
Ahhhhh....love and manipulation. I'm really enjoying this 'episode'! Thank you.
Oh, oh. What is Koval trying to do??
And *thanks!!!* for T´Pol´s statements:
"Commander Tucker brought colour back into my life,” ...
Oooh... sneaky Koval. You can't outsmart our Trip!
I love how this story is building but one little beg? Please can you make the chapters longer? Wonderful story, can't wait for the next part. Ali D :~)
Awww T'Pol needs colour into her life... that's so cute! I don't trust this Koval... he's up to something... and I don't like it one bit!
Thanks for all the kind words...Ali...I heard you...longer chapters...can't do it...not this time. I'm finding writing to someone elses plot a challenge...and it shows in the writing.
Trip seems different. I don't mean out of character, just different . . . more mature? Perhaps it's just from being away from Enterprise where he's always "#3", and being relatively secure in his relationship with T'Pol in this story. I like it, and I also like Koval (although I think he's up to no good!). Great story, Aquila!
hmmmmm how the story continues to unfold to color the picture ;-)
so enjoying it.