The Morning After- Pt 8

The Morning After

by DestinyGirl

Rating: R

Email: anticipatedestiny@yahoo.com

Genre: Romance, Humor

Codes: T/T, A/H, M/Amanda

Summary: Something the crew picked up along their travels has an unanticipated effect, leading to Trip/T’Pol goodness.

Spoilers: Zero Hour with a twist and anything before that.

Disclaimer: Star Trek: Enterprise is owned by Paramount, not me. No infringement intended, no profit made.

Distribution: Anywhere, just let me know.

Feedback: Of course I want feedback! Leave your comments below.

A/N: Finally, the last two chapters! :) I hope you enjoy them. I’ve appreciated the wonderful feedback everyone has given on this story. Thank you!!

Part 8

“Put her down, Commander Tucker.”

Phlox’s voice was calm, but it held the strength of steel.

“I’m not gonna let her die here, Doc!”

Even though he’d reiterated it at least three times, Phlox gave his argument again. “T’Pol’s wishes were more than clear on this subject, Trip. She did not want the only course of treatment that would heal her.”

“I don’t give a damn what she wanted! I love her and my daughter, and I’ll die before I watch you stand back and do nothing!”

Trip’s rage echoed off sickbay’s walls, and he clutched T’Pol more tightly in his arms.

It had only been two hours since the away team had returned, and Trip had sprinted to sickbay after Malcolm told him about T’Pol’s condition. Seeing her, pale and weak on the bio-bed, had scared him senseless. When Phlox had proceeded to tell him that he wouldn’t treat her, Trip had taken matters into his own hands.

Holding her limp frame, vision clouded with anger, Trip blinked away tears and turned his eyes down to her face. Her skin was ashen, glistening with perspiration. Her breathing was erratic, and Trip would bet everything he owned that all of her vital functions were in a similarly alarming state.

Across from him, Phlox was taken aback by Trip’s declaration of love, but he knew by one look at his face that he was too upset to even realized what he’d revealed.

“Please put her down, Trip. Being held so tightly can’t be helping anything.”

“What do you care?” Trip said bitterly, but gently set T’Pol down on one of the bio-beds, his eyes sweeping her form with the gentleness of a caress.

“It’s the baby, isn’t it?” Trip said softly, his eyes traveling down to T’Pol’s abdomen. “It’s the link with the baby. It’s killin’ her.”

“How did you know that?” Phlox was shocked. “Did she tell you?”

“Didn’t have to,” he answered, shrugging. “I figured it out. She didn’t start actin’ weird until after we found out she was pregnant. Every human female on the ship wasn’t sufferin’ from these kinds of mood swings, and the only difference between her pregnancy and every other one was that she has a telepathic connection with the baby.”

“You’re right,” Phlox admitted softly.

“How’s it killin’ her?”

Phlox explained the problem in the gentlest terms possible.

Trip nodded after he finished, and with one long, soft look at T’Pol’s face, he straightened his shoulders and turned to Phlox. His face immediately hardened into a mask of determination.

“What did she tell you, that meditation would cure her?”

Phlox was again surprised by how well Trip knew T’Pol. “Something like that,” he agreed.

Trip’s face flushed with the force of his anger. “Damn her! Why the hell does she have to be so stubborn? It isn’t just herself she’s puttin’ on the line here! This is my daughter we’re talkin’ about, too.”

Wisely keeping silent, Phlox waited for Trip to continue.

“Bottom line, Doc? I don’t care what the hell she wanted. The way I figure it, she was in no condition to be makin’ any judgments about her treatment. She probably told you she was just bein’ logical, but she couldn’t logic her way out of a paper sack two days ago. I’m thinkin’ she talked herself out of anything resembling good judgment.”

Phlox couldn’t help but smile a bit at Trip’s assessment. “Her mental faculties were being affected by this condition, yes.”

“So what was this treatment that she was so dead-set against? What was it that would make her chance dying before she’d—” Trip’s breath caught, his eyes widening before narrowing into angry slits. “It has to do with me, doesn’t it? The father of the baby is part of the cure, and she would rather die than have anything to do with me?”

“It wasn’t like that, Trip,” Phlox argued, trying to reassure him. “T’Pol thinks very highly of you.”

“Oh yeah. I rank right up there with Andorian tapeworms,” he said sarcastically.

“I think you’re mistaken, Commander,” Phlox said quietly. “She has a very high regard for you, and I believe it scares her.”

“Vulcans don’t experience fear.” Trip said bitterly.

“You know that’s erroneous, especially in T’Pol’s case. There are,” Phlox paused, searching for words that wouldn’t breach confidences unnecessarily, “There are extenuating circumstances with regard to T’Pol’s emotions or lack thereof.” At Trip’s pointed look, he added, “I can’t say any more.”

Trip nodded, and both of them fell silent.

Finally, Phlox spoke again. “You said you love her.”

Trip only nodded again.

Phlox sucked in a breath, realizing he was about to break every one of the oaths he’d sworn to uphold. But in this case, he knew Trip had a point.

“Then listen carefully. The treatment isn’t complicated, but you must pay attention.”

With each instruction Phlox gave, Trip’s eyes grew wider. When he finished, Trip shook his head ruefully.

“Damn, doc. When you said ‘linked’, you weren’t kiddin’, were you?”

* * * * * * * *

Striding purposefully through the Mess Hall, Archer let his eyes scan the crowd. The low hum of conversation buzzed in his ears, its frequency an indication that the crew was at least partially aware of Sub-commander T’Pol’s condition. Even if the away team had been told to keep quiet, somehow, everyone would’ve found out about it. They always did. It was the nature of a starship. A community of people too small for anything to remain a secret for long.

Archer’s back stiffened as he felt a few eyes slide over to him, then swing over to Hoshi where she sat picking at her salad with a fork. It was obvious that she was lost in thought, her plate barely touched. Concerned, Archer pushed his discomfiture away and changed his path so that it took him directly to her.

It was a testament to Hoshi’s distractedness when she didn’t notice his presence until he sat across from her and placed his hand over hers. A squeak escaped her as she jumped in her chair. Smiling wryly, she set down her fork and raised an eyebrow in non-verbal inquiry.

“Are you okay?” Archer’s question was soft, but Hoshi still felt self-conscious enough to look around and see who was watching their conversation. It still felt so conspicuous to be involved with the captain. It probably always would.

Finally, she shrugged. “I’m okay. Physically, anyway.”

Archer frowned at that. “Something’s upsetting you?”

“It won’t harm the baby, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Hoshi said, the bite in her voice making Archer lean back in his chair in an attempt to seem less aggressive.

“I wasn’t,” he quickly reassured her. “You just seemed preoccupied, and I was worried about you.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, sighing. “I just heard about T’Pol, and it kind of freaked me out.”

Archer looked around, noting the barely surreptitious glances that kept being directed their way. “Why don’t we go into the Captain’s Mess? I can get some dinner and we can talk privately.”

After her agreement, it didn’t take long for Archer to find some food and join her at the table in the calming peacefulness of his private dining room.

“Sometimes being the Captain can have its perks,” he said, smiling.

“No kidding,” Hoshi answered dryly. “So do you know what’s going on with T’Pol?”

Archer’s smile disappeared. “Her pregnancy has developed complications,” he said, trying not to gossip more than necessary.

Hoshi paled. “Is it related the anomaly?”

“No!” Archer was quick to reassure her. “It has to do with her Vulcan physiology.”

“Then our baby isn’t in danger.”

“No. And neither are you.”

The tenseness in Hoshi’s shoulders drained away, making her sag limply against the back of her chair. “I shouldn’t be so scared by this,” she admitted. “I’m usually a lot stronger. But the thought of the baby dying. . .” she shuddered, a hand placed protectively over her stomach.

Liquid brown eyes lifted to meet Archer’s. “I don’t know when I became so attached to him, but I can’t imagine life without this baby now.”

“You’re fine,” Archer said, his voice soothing. “Phlox says everything’s normal, right?”

“Yeah,” she said, but he could still hear the doubt in her voice.

“Then you don’t have anything to worry about.”

They fell silent, but Hoshi’s fears seemed to be contagious. His eyes lingering on her splayed hand, Archer contemplated life without his coming child, and suddenly, he knew just what Hoshi was talking about. He couldn’t imagine life without the baby, either.

But surprisingly, neither could he imagine life without Hoshi.

* * * * * * * *

A myriad of candles cast dim light on T’Pol’s face, the flickering shadows bringing Trip’s apprehension to the fore. He stood by the bedside, staring down at her as he mentally braced himself for the task he had to complete. As each moment passed, her condition worsened, and Trip couldn’t afford to wait much longer. But neither could he just jump right in and begin; he wasn’t sure if he’d survive this emotional tornado himself, and he had to be as prepared as possible.

Fist clenching, he held tightly to a hypospray filled with one of Phlox’s mysterious elixirs, meant to stir T’Pol from her unconsciousness into a sort of wakeful state that would allow her to participate in her treatment. Phlox had warned Trip that she would be far from normal, and at the very least, her behavior would be unpredictable. The only thing working in Trip’s favor was that T’Pol’s Vulcan strength was compromised due to her condition, so Trip would be able to subdue her if necessary.

Trip grimaced, the idea of forcing her putting a bitter taste in his mouth. It smacked of rape, and he was loathe to even approach that subject in his mind, let alone carry it out. On the other hand, he knew that at some level, T’Pol wanted and needed him, even if she’d been convincing herself otherwise.

His grimace grew deeper. Now he sounded like a narcissistic stalker. Nothing like a good self-directed pep talk to get him ready for this.

Trying to bring some semblance of order back to his thoughts, Trip pushed away his negative feelings and focused on the instructions Phlox had given him. Administer the hypospray. Wait for her to regain consciousness. Seduce her. Establish the mental link . . . how had Phlox so delicately put it? “At the height of their intimate encounter,” he’d said. Trip laughed humorlessly at the recollection.

Only one step in Phlox’s instructions scared Trip: seduce T’Pol.

His thoughts went back to T’Pol’s feelings about him, or what little he knew of them. As a Vulcan, her emotions should be a non-issue, but as Phlox had pointed out, T’Pol’s situation was a unique one. Trip couldn’t begin to explain why she had been acting so strangely for the past year. Hell, he still couldn’t explain why she’d practically jumped him in the first place. Her behavior the next morning had been much more in character, especially the comment regarding his role in her “exploration of human sexuality.”

During that first encounter, he’d discovered a passionate side to her he hadn’t known existed. She wasn’t the least bit clinical, despite her explanations, and with every touch she’d gifted him, Trip had felt the wispy promise of something more. Something emotional. An emotion strong and soul-deep, but one he knew she couldn’t begin to explain.

The second time they’d been together had been induced by the anomaly, but even then, Trip had caught glimpses of her feelings for him. Underlying the lust had been an ocean of emotions, and Trip would bet his engines that one of them had been, at the very least, affection. Even during the last difficult weeks, he would catch her staring at him with something in her eyes that promised a deep emotion going light years beyond physical attraction.

But now? When she was so sick, and everything was riding on this one night? Instantly, Trip’s fear made his confidence in her unexpressed feelings scatter to the four winds. What if he used the hypospray and she shrank away from him? What if he kissed her and she shoved him away? What if she rejected him and he had to choose between saving her life and saving her pride?

Trip shuddered, his imagination running rampant with horrifying possibilities.

A soft moan from the bed brought Trip’s mind to a screeching halt. T’Pol tossed to her side, then back again, arching her neck and gasping. Her condition was worsening rapidly, and Trip knew it was now or never. Taking a deep breath, he steadied his hand and injected her with the hypospray.

The reaction was nearly instantaneous. T’Pol’s breath left her in a steady sigh, and she curled up on her side as if she’d been given the best medicine ever created.

Anxiously, he watched her for signs of wakefulness. After moments that seemed like hours, her eyes slowly slid open and she turned them on him, blinking lazily.

“Trip?” she whispered.

“Shhh,” he soothed, eyes locked with hers in the darkness. Relieved that she was somewhat lucid, Trip sank to his knees beside her bed, reaching his hand out to her face. Immediately, she tilted her cheek into his touch, nuzzling against the palm of his hand.

Her reaction flooded him with thankfulness. She wasn’t fully awake; the logical part of her brain momentarily shut down. She was pliable, and better yet, content with his presence. That, at least, should count for something.

Trip breathed deeply again, knowing it was now or never. His thumb stroked over her chin and jaw as he leaned forward, capturing her mouth with his.

A tender response from T’Pol shook Trip to his soul. With a sigh of satisfaction, she sank into the kiss, her mouth moving slowly over his, her fingers reaching out to curl behind his neck and play in his hair. Trip vowed to take it slowly, more to hold onto his control than anything else, but from her first response, T’Pol undermined him. She was the first one to stroke her tongue out to touch his, eliciting a gasp from him that turned into a strangled groan as he returned the gesture with a thorough exploration of his own.

Without breaking the kiss, Trip pushed himself up and slid onto the bunk with her, lying half on top of her. T’Pol’s curves pressed firmly against him, increasing the intensity for both of them until Trip finally broke their mouths apart so they could take in air they’d forgotten they needed, only to dive in again as soon as possible.

It went on like this for what seemed like eternity, until Trip’s hands began to wander as he explored the rest of her body, sliding clothes off and coaxing her toward a finish that would be satisfying for them both. T’Pol wasn’t a passive participant; she was just as determined to unclothe Trip, her hot hands seeming to burn him as she worked. And all the while, their mouths remained fused together, sometimes passionately, sometimes lazily, but always connected.

It didn’t take long for the passion to consume them, the joining of their bodies so acutely poignant that Trip thought his heart stopped, then began to beat in time with T’Pol’s. The moment swept him away, the feel of her soft body and her hot kisses on his neck driving him so close to the boundary between pleasure and pain that he nearly forgot what had brought him here in the first place. It was only a slight noise from her, a whimper of ecstasy that pulled his mind back enough to remember.

Pushing himself up on one elbow, Trip looked down at her face, cradling her head in one hand as his eyes bored into hers. He could see the confusion forming there, then the dawn of understanding as he placed his fingers on the contact points of her face. T’Pol’s mouth dropped open in shock as the touch linked his emotions with hers, and almost against her wishes, her own fingers touched his face in the same manner.

Immediately, Trip was flooded with a burst of color behind his eyelids, emotions so powerful that he couldn’t process them. He tried to pick through them, to figure out what she was feeling, but it was all so bright, so loud, that he couldn’t make heads or tails of it at first.

They froze, bodies and minds linked like a beautiful, intricate puzzle. Searching in the darkness, Trip’s eyes found T’Pol’s and he looked deeply, trying to make sense of what he was getting from her. Only then, with the aid of the clarity he saw in her eyes, was he able to fathom the mysteries of her mind.

In varying degrees, every known emotion was present in her mind, but Trip’s heart sank as he recognized the three strongest: disbelief, hurt, and regret. He tried to telepath his reassurance to her, but the feelings only grew stronger, blocking out everything else he’d received through the link. It was as if she was shrinking away from him, her mind recoiling at what she was so obviously perceiving as his betrayal.

A cry of despair overtook Trip’s mind, his eyes closing as tears flooded them. She didn’t understand. She wouldn’t even try to understand.

Trip’s body responded differently. Oblivious to the turmoil he was experiencing, his body knew its mate, and the passion overtook them once again with a frenzy. It seemed that T’Pol was similarly affected, and it wasn’t long before they were both gasping for breath, spiraling to a climax that made the colors in Trip’s mind burst like a thousand fireworks. And as passionately as it had begun, it was over, their fingers sliding away from each other’s faces, the link fading but not slipping away.

Moments later, Trip hugged the edge of the bunk while T’Pol curled up against the wall, their bodies both inches and light years apart. Despair commanded him, his only thought that he may just have traded T’Pol’s life for his own; there was a distinct possibility he would never recover. Only then did Trip let a single tear roll down his cheek before exhaustion took him mercifully into the oblivion of sleep.

* * * * * * *

With eyes that felt as though they’d been coated with coarse sandpaper, Phlox examined his samples and scans from the surface. He’d begun his research almost before Commander Tucker’s steps had faded, and Phlox was abundantly thankful that he’d had such an abundance of work on his hands. Currently, he was examining the body and brain scans T’Pol and Travis had conducted in the Yendi village, and he could feel the approach of a monumental discovery. His ears buzzed, his thoughts heavy with anticipation, the excitement tickling the back of his neck like a slight breeze signaling an approaching hurricane.

Sighing, Phlox pulled back from the computer and squeezed his eyes shut, stretching the kinks out of his shoulders and allowing himself a moment to think of something beyond his research. He’d had almost no time to think about the goings-on in T’Pol’s quarters, but his thoughts strayed there occasionally nonetheless. His physician’s mind worried over his patients’ physical conditions, and there was nothing he could do to turn off that part of his brain. Instead of fighting it, he allowed himself brief breaks from his work to contemplate their situation, then returned full-force to finding answers that would finally put the Captain’s and crew’s minds at rest.

The psychiatrist’s portion of his brain worried even more forcefully over the ramifications of his and Trip’s decision to initiate the bond, despite what Phlox knew to be T’Pol’s wishes. This was a gray area in Phlox’s moral ideology. He’d sworn to do no harm, and to uphold doctor/patient confidentiality at all costs. But like everything in life, nothing was black and white. There was an abundance of extenuating circumstances at work, not the least of which was T’Pol’s ability to make decisions rationally. Even so, despite a surety in his soul that he’d chosen the right course of treatment, Phlox still felt as though he’d somehow betrayed her.

Turning away from the guilt that threatened to take over his thoughts, Phlox turned back to the scans in front of him. This species was virtually unknown to him, but their physical structure was remarkably close to that of humans. There were subtle differences of course, slight changes in the respiratory, circulatory, and digestive systems, but on the whole, the two humanoid species were extremely similar. Upon reflection, Phlox doubted that he’d ever seen another species so physically comparable to humans.

This discovery alone was significant, but the brain scans were proving to be the most telling evidence. Placed side-by-side, the brains of Hoshi and a similar Yendi counterpart were startlingly similar, right down to the egg-shaped anomaly in the pituitary gland that Phlox had discovered in his earlier research. This Yendi female was also pregnant, her gestational progress at a stage comparable to Hoshi’s. It was difficult to say for certain, not knowing the complete gestational cycle of the Yendi species, but all other things being equal, she appeared to be early in her first trimester, just as the women on Enterprise were.

The trick here was discovering whether or not the egg-shaped object in the pituitary was a naturally-occurring phenomenon. A quick study of the other Yendi scans gave him his answer. In the pre-pubescent aliens, as well as those past child-bearing age, the pituitary gland absent the anomaly. Each of the scans made of Yendi males and females in their prime had the anomaly.

Sitting back, Phlox let his eyes go unfocused as he moved on to the next problem. If the anomaly wasn’t naturally occurring, where had it come from? It had to be a symbiotic relationship of some sort, and to be such, its source would most likely be readily accessible to the population. Therefore, the air, water, and vegetation samples were of utmost importance.

As if on cue, Phlox’s instruments beeped a staccato rhythm behind him, signaling the end of a test he’d begun on the vegetation samples. His palms moistened in anticipation. Stifling the urge to cross his fingers, a very human proclivity to be sure, Phlox reached over to open the results of his tests.

The swish of Sickbay’s doors interrupted him, and Phlox couldn’t help the grunt of dissatisfaction that escaped him. The noise was quickly swallowed when Phlox realized that the visitor was his captain, striding brusquely toward him with an expression that demanded answers.

Archer stopped just beyond Phlox’s seat and leaned against a nearby counter, crossing his arms over his chest. Before Archer’s mouth even opened, Phlox sighed. This looked to be a long conversation.

True to form, Archer got right to the point.

“Any answers yet, Phlox?”

Phlox explained his most recent findings.

“So you don’t know where the microorganism originated.”

“No,” Phlox confirmed. “But the computer has just finished an analysis of the vegetation samples we collected. I was just about to access the results when you entered.”

“I still think this is some sort of artificial infestation,” Archer said, his face doubtful. “Somebody wanting to cause us trouble. This caused a huge disruption to our mission, not to mention our command structure.”

Phlox shrugged. “Sometimes naturally occurring phenomena can be even more destructive than their artificial cousins.”

“We have a briefing at 0800. Do you think you might have something to report by then?”

“Undoubtedly.” When Archer remained silent, Phlox asked, “Is there anything else, Captain?”

Archer stared at Phlox intently before answering. “I noticed T’Pol wasn’t in sickbay anymore. I take it you changed your mind?”

Phlox had briefed the captain on T’Pol’s situation when she’d been brought to sickbay after the away mission. Archer had been almost as opposed to Phlox’s viewpoint as Trip had been, but the captain’s argument had been less persuasive.

“I did.” Frowning, Phlox shook his head. “I’m not certain how T’Pol will react, though. It’s anyone’s guess.”

“Hopefully she’ll understand when she’s back to normal. I think it would be illogical not to, don’t you think?”

Phlox harrumphed. “Logic can be dangerous at times, Captain. I think T’Pol might find it an ill-suited tool in this situation.”

“I guess I won’t be expecting Trip at the morning briefing.”

“No.” Phlox cracked a hint of a smile. “Your second and third-in-command are on medical leave for the next 48 hours.”

Grunting, Archer shook his head and moved away, calling back over his shoulder. “I’m going to bed. Keep me posted.”

Immediately after Archer left, Phlox went back to work. Interruptions plagued him until the wee hours of the morning, when he finally had the time to go back to the computer’s findings on the vegetation samples. The first image he brought up puzzled him.

“This can’t be right,” Phlox murmured, his brow crinkling in a frown. “The decontamination chamber would’ve detected it.”

Phlox selected a particular area of the findings. “Damn,” he paused, muttering. “Computer, magnify by a factor of twenty.”

His eyes widened instantly as the computer displayed the results.

“My god,” he said grimly, his voice echoing in the stillness of the empty room. “This is not what I had in mind.”

* * * * * * * *

Phlox’s announcement was followed by a stunned silence, broken only by an irate question from Archer.

“You mean a couple of leaves were responsible for putting our lives through the blender?”

The expression on Archer’s face matched by every other command team member, save Phlox, who’d delivered the news. T’Pol and Trip were conspicuously absent, but the rest of the command team had assembled to discuss Phlox’s findings.

“Not precisely,” Phlox corrected. “The leaves only served as a habitat for the organism. The plants themselves are harmless.”

“Unbelievable,” Malcolm muttered, shaking his head. After all he’d been through, some type of microscopic bug was to blame? It was hardly a satisfying answer.

“It’s quite fascinating, really,” Phlox continued, warming to his subject. “The microorganisms exist as one-half of a symbiotic relationship with the humanoids on the planet’s surface. Without them, the species would not be able to procreate. The microorganism has a pre-determined cycle and triggers the instinct to mate within the humanoid population.”

“So we got caught up in the middle,” Hoshi summed up. “Wrong place, wrong time?”

Phlox nodded.

“Why didn’t our scanners didn’t pick them up?” Archer looked angry, like he needed someone to blame.

“The organisms are camouflaged,” Phlox explained. “Able to adapt to whatever surface they inhabit, sinking beneath the skin of organic life forms and entering the bloodstream. Undoubtedly, they were spread all over the surfaces of the ship, affecting everyone before the cycle began and the organisms were activated.”

“So we’re still infested with them,” Archer concluded, sinking against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yes,” Phlox said seriously. “And not only that, but the dormant ones in the pituitary glands of the crew will reactivate when the cycle repeats itself.”

Archer couldn’t hold back a groan of frustration. “Damn it! Just when we thought this thing was finally over...”

“There’s no cause to be alarmed, Captain,” Phlox reassured him. “I believe I know how to eradicate them from Enterprise, as well as remove them from the crew.”

“How?”

“I’ve synthesized an anti-microbial agent that can be injected into each crewmember. Side-effects should be mild; headaches, slight nausea, minor elevation in body temperature, but they shouldn’t last for more than 12 hours. A burst of non-lethal radiation should eradicate the remaining organisms throughout the ship. At such a small dose, it should have little or no effect on the crew.”

“That sounds too easy.”

Phlox shrugged. “Nonetheless, I’m confident it will work. I’ve conducted tests on the samples we collected and the treatment was successful.”

“So there’s no one behind this? It was just a freak of nature?” Malcolm sounded skeptical.

“It appears that way,” Phlox said. “I know that not having someone to punish will be difficult for some, but we can’t help the evidence. I suppose we’ll just have to live with it.”

“Begin the innoculations immediately,” Archer ordered. “The rest of you already have your assignments. Dismissed.”

The crew dispersed, each person’s mind on anything but their upcoming shifts. They had answers now, but they were far from satisfying.

* * * * * * * *

The first thing that occurred to T’Pol as she woke was that she’d never been so physically sore in her entire life. She was scrunched up against the bulkhead at the back of her bunk, hugging it as if she’d fall otherwise. Every muscle in her body ached, her head throbbed, and her mouth was dry and unpleasantly sticky.

Against her will, memories of the night before assailed her, like a wonderful, illicit dream come back to haunt her. Squeezing her eyes shut, T’Pol pressed the heels of her hands against her forehead, trying to block them out, trying to deny the emotions access. They were brought into submission much more easily than she had been accustomed to, and it took only a few seconds more for her to realize that her mind was clearer than it had been in some time, possibly months. Her thoughts felt calm. Collected. Cushioned by something else, some other presence.

Eyes popping open in surprise, T’Pol sat up abruptly, turning to look at the form sleeping next to her. Trip wasn’t there. Unbidden, panic flooded her mind, her eyes darting around the darkened cabin as she searched for him, relief flooding her when she saw him quietly slipping on his shoes in the corner of the room. Immediately, his eyes came up and met hers, a look of concern on his face as he sensed the panic in her mind.

Like waves gently lapping at her thoughts, his presence hovered on the edge of her mind, a respectful distance from her most inner thoughts. Angry at her emotional response to his absence from her bed, T’Pol reached within her to put up mental barricades to her mind, obstacles to his access that Trip would not have the knowledge or experience to overcome.

Across the room, Trip felt the intensity of his connection to her wane abruptly, and a coldness swept throughout his mind with a forcefulness that made him shiver.

With a jerk, Trip finished lacing up his shoe and tied it with a jerk that should’ve snapped the strings.

“Don’t get up,” he ordered as T’Pol moved toward the edge of the bed. His voice was loud in the ringing silence of the room, and T’Pol jerked at the sound. “The doctor gave us 48 hours leave, but I can’t stay in here anymore. I’m going to take a shift in engineering. Try and bury myself in work so I can forget about all this for awhile.”

He stood, crossing toward the door.

“Wait,” T’Pol said, her voice gravelly.

He turned, eyes meeting hers again. “What’s the point?” he said tiredly. “I get it now, T’Pol. I know that your addiction to Trellium screwed with your emotions. I know that the pregnancy made it worse. But beyond all that, I get why you didn’t want to be with me.” He paused, turning for the door again.

“I get it,” he repeated. “You don’t love me.”

T’Pol lost her breath for a moment, his words ringing in her ears, and confusion assailed her. He was right; she was incapable of experiencing such an emotion. It wasn’t possible.

Was it?

Trip pressed the button and her door opened, but before walking through it, he turned halfway and spoke back to her. “I’ll keep my distance, T’Pol. You won’t have to worry about me gettin’ in your space anymore.”

Before she could call him back, Trip was gone, the door closing softly behind him.

The silence deafened her, its heaviness creating a feeling of suffocation that forced T’Pol to pull the covers back and get out of bed into a more open area of her quarters. Sliding into her robe and belting it at the waist, she began walking the floor, an agitated movement that was very unlike her normal behavior.

A derisive frown covered her face as she realized what she’d been thinking. Normal was relative in her case. Her behavior had been abnormal for so long that T’Pol had almost no recollection of what constituted normal behavior. Not anymore.

It was true that her mind was infinitely more calm than it had been, and even now, she could sense barely a wisp of Trip’s presence in her mind. He was even further away than he had been before, having somehow figured out how to distance himself mentally as well as physically. T’Pol did nothing to bring him back; his presence would hinder her ability to sort through this logically.

Again, she regarded her own thought scornfully. Logic had failed her of late. Wasn’t it logic that had determined that she could survive without Trip’s help? That she could overcome her own body’s inclinations via meditation and nothing else? Logic had brought her to such an erroneous conclusion, and for the first time in her life, T’Pol doubted its veracity.

Just then, she recalled Phlox’s arguments for bonding with Trip. He’d said that Trip cared for her. That he’d be a stabilizing effect in her life. That a link with a human, a species familiar with emotions and how to adequately process them, would help her deal with the permanent effects of her Trellium-D addiction.

Her own argument had been based on the premise that the emotions Trip stirred within her were too uncontrollable to be tolerated. That such a link would be destructive rather than restorative.

Eyes widening, T’Pol stopped abruptly, her analytical mind jumping to the truly logical conclusion. Phlox’s argument had been based on logic. Her own had been based on fear.

Sinking to the floor, T’Pol stared at her unlit meditation candles. Dismay overtook her, and for once, she willingly allowed the emotion to run its course.

Trip wasn’t her destruction.

He was her salvation.

* * * * * * * *

Just after he left T’Pol’s quarters, Trip slipped into his own and sank to the floor on his knees, just across the threshold. He buried his head in his hands and the air in his lungs left him in a rush, his anguish spilling out in silent tears that ran through his fingers. He allowed himself a moment of indulgence, then forced himself to stop just as quickly as he’d begun.

He’d had so many of his questions answered, and along with them, so many of his dreams shattered.

At least now he knew why she’d been acting so strangely. Who’d have thought T’Pol would be susceptible to a drug addiction? It seemed the most illogical of actions from such a strong woman, but Trip had seen stranger things happen. But knowing that her increased emotions were side-effects from an addiction only made him more miserable.

It meant that she hadn’t truly cared about him in the first place. Everything about their relationship, the connection between them, had been chemically induced. At least from her end of it. His feelings, on the other hand, had been all too genuine.

Standing, Trip dried his face and left his cabin. His stride resolute, he headed toward engineering. To passers by, he looked every inch the confident Starfleet officer, and as the day went by, he almost allowed himself to forget.

The hole where his heart had once been would not let him forget entirely.

* * * * * * * *

“Admiral Forrest. I was expecting to hear from you.”

Archer’s voice was neutral. Polite. But he couldn’t fool the Admiral with his calm demeanor.

“You’ve found some answers?” Forrest asked expectantly.

“We have,” Archer said, explaining Phlox’s findings.

“I suppose that’s for the best,” Forrest said, frowning. “At least we don’t have another enemy out there to worry about. The near-war with the Xindi was stressful enough.”

“It does look like an isolated incident,” Archer conceded, “but that doesn’t make any of the repercussions easier to live with.”

Forrest nodded, his eyes sympathetic. “How is your crew holding up?”

“They’re coping,” Archer answered. “Those that don’t have to deal with an unexpected pregnancy are almost back to normal, at least from all outward appearances. The rest of us,” he stopped, trailing off, his unspoken answer more than clear.

“Set your course back to Earth as soon as you wrap up there, Jonathan,” Forrest ordered. “I need your presence for some of the diplomatic fallout.”

“Understood.”

“Speaking of diplomacy, how is T’Pol doing?”

Archer grimaced, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He hadn’t known about her worsening condition, other than his own observations, until she’d feinted on the planet’s surface. As a result, Forrest was completely in the dark on this one. Clearing his throat, Archer brought him up to speed.

“My god,” Forrest whispered, his eyes wide. “The Vulcan High Command is going to raise a huge stink about this. The pregnancy would’ve been bad enough, but mating herself to a human, it’s unthinkable to them.”

“Nothing could’ve been done to prevent it,” Archer told him. “Her pregnancy was a result of the anomaly, her condition was a result of the pregnancy, and the cure was necessary to prevent her death. A domino effect that couldn’t be helped. There weren’t any other options, and frankly, Sir, diplomacy was the last of either Phlox’s or my concerns.”

“That’s understandable,” Forrest conceded. “I wouldn’t have ordered you against treating her. It’s just that the High Command is going to demand explanations from T’Pol, and they won’t be easy to deliver. I’m afraid that the road ahead for those two young people will be difficult. On both planets.”

“They’re strong, Admiral. I have no doubt that T’Pol and Trip will be able to face adversity and succeed.” Archer’s statement sounded positive, but in his mind, it echoed with uncertainty. It would only be true if T’Pol and Trip could finally admit their feelings to each other.

Archer doubted that even a telepathic link could be a cure-all to their communication problems.

“When you get back,” Forrest continued, “We’ll discuss what should be done about your crew. Starfleet never intended for its flagship to be multigenerational.”

“Then I’m afraid you’ll have a stack of resignations on your desk, Admiral,” Archer warned. “Including mine.”

“I know,” Forrest said darkly. “That’s why we need to talk.”

“We’ll set a course for Earth immediately.”

“Great. We’ll see you in a few days, Captain. Forrest out.”

As the transmission severed, Archer leaned back in his desk and rubbed his eyes tiredly. There were some parts of his job that never got any easier. In situations like this, they made him wonder why he’d ever wanted to be a Starfleet captain in the first place.

This homecoming wasn’t going to be nearly as ebullient as the last one.

TBC

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