Of All...Times- Ch. 5

Of all the Times, Places, and People!

By Eratta

Part Five

PG-13, General
Disclaimer: It all belongs to Paramount

A/N: Hey everyone, thanks so much for your support. I really appreciate you taking the time to read and leave reviews, especially when you tell me what things you specifically like. Overall, I'm glad you find T'Pol's problem to be plausible; I was a little worried about that. And I'm thrilled with the general reception to O'Connor. I find that introducing an original character allows me to develop my skills while still remaining in the comfortable realm of fanfiction. Thanks so much!

A/N Continued: Okay, I'm a little confused. In Shockwave part 2, Trip says he can talk to anyone on B-deck. This would mean that T'Pol is on B-deck. But then in "Bounty," Phlox says her quarters are on C-deck. Is anyone else notice this? Whatever. I'm just going to stick with the more recent one.

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It was 0223 hundred hours, and a tall, lithe figure was making his way inconspicuously through C-deck. Had anyone been awake at that hour, they would immediately have become interested in his presence, because this deck was reserved for the highest ranking officers. But as it was, no one noticed as Ensign Thomas O'Connor rounded the corner past the captain's cabin, making his way directly to SubCommander T'Pol's residence.

It had not taken long for him to outline the basics of his plan to his accomplice, and now the first part of it was underway. Reaching the door, he keyed in the general access code and held his breath. This was the single most dangerous part of the plan: he had no idea if the Vulcan locked her door or not, but if she did there was no way to proceed. He would trip an alarm in the process, and the prospect of explaining himself to the captain was not a pleasant one. But thankfully, the door slid obligingly open and O'Connor slipped in as quietly as a shadow, leaving no trace of a disturbance in the vacant corridor.

Once inside, it took him a few moments to adjust to the dim lighting. Glancing around the room, he wondered where a Vulcan would keep her scientific books. Would she hide them? And if so, where? Ghosting cautiously across the room, he noticed several large and well-worn tomes on the shelf above the small bed. Aiming the flashlight's beam on the fraying and creased spines, he thanked his lucky stars for his good fortune. He picked out a familiar one of the newer-looking volumes and put it inside his uniform. Then, as silently as he had entered, he left; heading for the quarters of the linguistics genius.

At the chime from her doorbell, Hoshi jumped. Taking a deep, calming breath, she stood and opened the door. Her relief was nearly tangible when she made out O'Connor's handsome face. But the relief was short-lived as she remembered what he was there for. Though she had agreed to go through with his plan, she couldn't help feeling guilty and nervous. This went against everything she had learned, both in life and in the Academy.

O'Connor took one look at her face and instantly knew what was wrong. He unconsciously assumed a friendly stance and said quietly,

"You don't have to go through with this if you don't want to."

Hoshi didn't do or say anything. She had suspected he would offer her an easy way out. And try as she might to rationalize it, she knew she would never forgive herself if they never recovered Trip and T'Pol. Either way, she was not happy, but she knew what had to be done. Wordlessly, she extended her hand. O'Connor gave her a tiny grin of thanks, and handed the book over while settling himself on the chair at her desk. Hoshi sat opposite him on the bunk, leafing through the pages of Vulcan script, mumbling to herself as her fingers slipped over the dry pieces of parchment- like paper. She had always liked the look of traditional Vulcan writing. However, unlike most humans, her appreciation of it ran deeper than simple aesthetics. The ornate loops and clefs had a variety of different meanings, each of which could be changed by the placement of an accent or an addition loop.

After several long minutes, she read aloud a passage to him. Taking it in and judging that it was what he needed, O'Connor typed it into her computer and transferred it to a PADD. He then erased the entire document from the computer system, leaving no trace of it's ever having been there. He gave Hoshi a smile.

"Thanks, Hoshi. I mean it." He told her sincerely. Hoshi simply shrugged her shoulders.

"It's the least I can do, after not paying enough attention to that pod." She shook her head at herself, miserable in self deprecation. Thomas' look became more serious and compassionate. Carefully, he lightly laid a gentle hand on hers. Hoshi looked up at him, expression bleak.

"It wasn't your fault. It was an accident that no one could have prevented."

"I should have been monitoring them more closely," she persisted, determined to hold herself entirely accountable. Guilt had much power over the petite ensign.

"How could you? You were the senior officer on the bridge, covering both your station and the SubCommander's. There was no way you could have paid more attention to them." He told her firmly.

"And besides," he added, "You knew the minute there was trouble. It's thanks to you we know what planet they're on in the first place! No one is to blame, Hoshi. Least of all you."

She looked up into his face, searching for proof of the true sincerity she heard. She found no falsehood in his countenance, and her eyes smiled through the glassy wall of unshed tears. She sniffed.

"Thanks." She said; voice watery.

"You're welcome." The Irishman returned, standing to leave. "Now if you don't mind, I have some illegal upgrades to do."

"I hope they don't catch you." The comm. Officer said, not quite adequately hiding her alarm. He gave her an easy smile to dissuade her fears, though in reality he was just as apprehensive as she.

"I'll be okay. Get some sleep. With any luck, we'll have them back in a few hours."

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Trip hadn't realized he'd dozed off until he woke. Cursing himself, he looked around with bleary eyes, trying to pinpoint to disturbance that had awoken him. As his head cleared, he heard the last thing in the world he wanted to hear: the sound of labored coughing. Instantly he was at T'Pol's side, gazing worriedly at her face. The flames from his pyre cast ghastly shadows across her beautiful features, which were already contorted by the pain she was experiencing. Her eyes were shut tight, and she was lying on her side. The coughs racked her body, expelling air faster than she could control. Trip was seized with a primal fear. Without thinking, he grabbed her slight shoulders and pulled her into an upright position.

"T'Pol! T'Pol calm down, it's okay! Just calm down." He pleaded with her. Her eyes were open now and huge with fright. Gazing into them, Trip could clearly see for the first time beyond her Vulcan mask. She was terrified, and pooling in her eyes he saw the blatant cry for help. He set his jaw and held her to his chest, thumping the heel of his hand across her back in an attempt to loosen whatever it was that kept choking her. As she convulsed in his lap, he whispered soothing sounds to her, hoping beyond hope that something he was doing was going to help. Finally, the hacking lessened. She leaned heavily against the engineer and gasped desperately for air. Her chest heaved against his, though he barely registered it.

As her body quieted and she focused on relieving her traumatized lungs, Trip became increasingly aware of their positions. He had somehow managed to drag the woman into his lap, wrapping both arms around her. T'Pol's chin rested on his shoulder, her arms locked tight around his waist. Her full, soft breasts were crushed against him, and her hip was solidly embedded in his groin. Trip gulped audibly, aware that this was definitely what she would consider 'conduct unbecoming an officer'. Yet, holding her was comforting to him. It was almost like if he could hold her, maybe he could keep her from spiraling down into the inevitable darkness that awaited them all. He memorized the feeling of her body; the planes and curves that were so widely admired but never touched.

T'Pol was still heaving, but seemed to have regained her faculties enough to realize that she was in a rather compromising situation. From his scent, she knew herself to be within the embrace of Commander Tucker, but she could not quite remember how she had come to be there. Instinctively, she tightened and tried to pull away. But strong arms held her fast and a rough voice whispered into her ear,

"I'm not gonna let you go until you can talk to me."

For a moment, she entertained the idea of forcing herself away from him. Though not entirely certain she could do it in her present state of weakness, she knew she could try. Yet, his warm embrace was remarkable and profoundly stabilizing. She decided to acquiesce to his wishes, for the moment at least. Then, to both their profound amazement, the Vulcan shifted slightly to tuck her head beneath his jaw and snuggled closer. Trip was so astonished he couldn't speak, though he didn't have to. His arms tightened of their own accord, and slowly began to massage her spine. Neither knew how long they remained like that, nor did they necessarily want it to end. T'Pol maintained silence longer than was necessary, and Trip didn't do anything to hurry her.

Within the engineer's warm embrace, T'Pol was starting to realize that she would probably not survive to return to Enterprise. As a Vulcan, she was prepared for death, but as a woman, she was apprehensive. Not for herself, but for the man holding her. How would he react? Would she pass out of his mind like the other women in his past? For some unfathomable reason, the last thing she wanted was to be categorized with the other women. With a slight start, she had a revelation. Somehow, she had unintentionally developed . . . feelings . . . for this human. Given her inexperience in the area, she didn't know what kind of feelings exactly, but they were feelings nonetheless. There was only one thing to do. Slowly and deliberately, more for her benefit than his, she enunciated,

"Please release me."

Trip frowned and reluctantly released the Vulcan woman. Though he was disappointed to relinquish her, something else was niggling at him. Peering as closely as he dared, he knew something was wrong. The Vulcan sitting across from him was not T'Pol. She was avoiding his gaze, and carefully rearranging the blankets around her filthy uniform. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but she wasn't acting like herself. He scooted closer experimentally. Predictably, she shrank away.

"You okay?" He asked softly. His gaze was tender and sincere. It made T'Pol illogically angry.

"I am fine." She told him coldly.

'Damn, something is really wrong here,' Trip thought to himself. She was acting like a . . . well, like a Vulcan. It was almost as if what they had just experienced was a figment of his imagination. Hell, it was almost like she had reverted back into the pain-in-the-ass who'd refused to shake his hand! 'Okay, so Vulcans weren't that big on personal contact', he reasoned. He was just trying to help! Surely she knew that. What had happened after was definitely NOT his fault!

"Didn't look like it just now." He retorted crossly. If she could be difficult, fine. So could he.

She ignored him. Infuriated, Trip counted to ten slowly and took several cleansing breaths. 'Of all the times to go back to bein' a real pain!' he fumed. 'Of all the times to do it, after what had just happened! And of all the people to be stuck with on a damn swamp island!' Fighting to keep his rage in check, Trip didn't hear her the first time she called him. The second time, he noticed she seemed a bit peeved.

"Commander Tucker"

"What?" He demanded, refusing to look anywhere other than his boots, lest she manage to soften him somehow.

"There is something we need to discuss." She panted. Obviously, she was going to have to make this short. The end was fast approaching. She shoved the feeling of dismay out of her mind.

"Oh yeah? And what's that?" The furious chief engineer returned.

"It is quite clear that in all likelihood, I will die on this planet."

It was as flat and emotionless as if she had just told him she was vegetarian. But the words were painfully clear and Trip was forced to deal with the very thing he had tried not to think of. All anger was forgotten as he whipped his head up to look at her, searching for some sign; any sign. But there was none. She had retreated behind her Vulcan armor and was not coming back out.

"You don't know that." He insisted, desperately clinging to childlike hope and naivety. He had never felt like this before

Outwardly, T'Pol fixed him with a withering look; one she knew from experience often irritated him. But inwardly, she felt her heart pound at his reaction. It was entirely illogical, and her carelessness had allowed him to get too close. What needed to be done had to be done, no matter how much it hurt inside.

"Don't be foolish, Commander." She chided. It was less than half-hearted, but decades of training succeeded at masking her true regard. Trip stiffened at her tone and words. "It is useless to believe otherwise. Therefore, I am going to ask you to see to the safe delivery of my body to Vulcan when I pass."

She was heaving again, and the tightness in her chest was not entirely due to her medical distress. It took visible effort to keep herself from hyperventilating, and it certainly didn't help to see Tucker's confused, hurt and angry expression. The knowledge that she was causing such pain was almost unbearable. The muscles in Trip's jaw were working furiously, but he kept a rein on himself. The last thing he wanted to do was say something he would regret.

He didn't believe it; he didn't want to believe it. But what she had said was true. If they didn't get her help soon, she wouldn't make it. Even now, he could see she was fighting hard for the semblance of control that was so essential to all Vulcans. Looking at her, he was scared. If she died, what would he do? He honesty didn't know. But if she did, he wasn't going to have her last memories of him coincide of anger. And if he was going to have to put up with all her Vulcan-ness to make it possible, so be it. He sighed and ran a hand through his dirty wet hair.

"If it comes to that, T'Pol, I'll be honored." He replied tiredly. Without another word he rose and moved to the other tree, where he sat and stared at the blazing flames in silent contemplation. T'Pol blinked in surprise. She had not expected that. He was supposed to yell and tell her that she would live. He was supposed to say . . . something of meaning. She had no idea what, but she definitely had expected some kind of reassurance. Was it possible that she was disappointed? He seemed to have resumed his normal detached air with regards to her. She had achieved her goal, and quickly too. So why did her soul feel so empty?

Unable to tolerate such questions, she turned her back on the man and lay down once again, determined to finish as she had started. Exhaustion triumphed over her eventually, and she slept deeply, heedless of the constant, pained gaze trained on her form by the man beside the fire.

Another A/N: Okay, this chapter was slightly darker. I just don't think T'Pol would jump at Trip all at once (though I know I would!). I think that when the writers of the show finally decide to bring them together (which God-willing will happen sometime next season. I don't like these rumors of T/A) that she will have some inner battles to face. It definitely won't be easy for her to admit to having feelings for a human, much less agreeing to a relationship with one. There, that's it. Don't agree with me? Leave a review and tell me why. Leave a review anyway! The next chapter won't be up until later next week b/c I'll be in Florida for a wedding. Look for it then!

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Two folks have made comments

Excellent, brilliant, MORE! I can't wait to see what happens nex. Thanks for a great story, Ali D :~)

I love this. This was just incredilbly well written. Not just that Thomas could pick up Hoshi's guilt, but Trip and T'pol on the planet while darker, was beautifully done. Please keep it coming.