Of All...Times- Ch. 6

Of all the Times, Places, and People!

By Eratta

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

Chapter 6

Relief and Despair

A/N: Back from Florida!! It was a beautiful wedding, and now that I'm home and summer has started, I can finally devote some quality time to my stories. But that's not the good news! The really good news is that I've been accepted into Stanford University's Summer Creative Writing program for high school students! YAY!!! I'm so happy!! I was on the waiting list for a while, but I made it! And you know what that means? .some professional writers actually like MY work!! Can you imagine! Wow, I'm on a high!

-Anyway, that won't happen until the end of July. So now, about this chapter: We're winding down towards the end. I don't know how many more chapters exactly, but I have decided that there will be a sequel. I was going over this plotline in my head and realized that the end sorta isn't the end, and if I wanted more, some of you might too. Heck, it may even end up as a series, if I have the inspiration and support (wink wink). And with that said, on with the chapter!!

-Also, I know nothing about astrophysics or astrophysicists. I don't know any and my own bout with physics was not pleasant. The characterizations made below are groundless and formed by an uninformed author. I also know only a limited amount of medical information and terminology.

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Virtually alone on the bridge in the dead of night, Thomas was furiously completing his upgrades. Silently, he thanked his little sister (a computer scientist by profession and perfectionist by nature) for making him learn the basics of computer programming and analysis. And he also thanked the Vulcans for not being as advanced as they always made themselves out to be. In reality, the specs for their scanners were not that much more advanced than a few prototypes back at Starfleet. But he didn't think about that too long. He had a job to do, and time was quickly running out. By Phlox's calculations, T'Pol would be falling into a coma in only a few short hours, and from there everything was bound to get far more dangerous.

Nearly twenty minutes and a full mug of strong coffee later, the Ensign was almost positive of his success. The quick diagnostic results seemed acceptable, and he now deemed it time to put the upgrades into real action. With a quick glance around the bridge, he pressed a few keys to initiate the new scans. As the results came back almost instantly, he fought to desire to give a cheer of relief and triumph.

The new scans were programmed to pick up human and Vulcan bio-signs. They came in consistently, not hampered in the least by topographical changes or variances in the atmosphere. He had started them on the coordinates of the abandoned shuttlepod, and worked outwards from them in all directions. As the results came back, he briefly reviewed each one, searching for the tell- tall signs that would indicate what he was looking for. Finally, he found it. Both bio-signs showed up brightly against the background of the scans, and Thomas heaved a sigh of relief. He shook his head to clear it of the dizziness of joy, remembering that it wasn't over yet.

Checking and re-checking the coordinates, he deactivated the modifications and went back to the normal ones. He plugged in the coordinates and keyed in the code for the strongest and most detailed scans Enterprise was capable of. But of course, they were far slower than their Vulcan counterparts. As the seconds ticked by endlessly, O'Connor began to fidget. Each second was a second off the SubCommander's margin between life and death. Minutes passed, and he desperately racked his brain for ways of making the infernal machine faster. He glanced back at the chronometer, and was shocked to see that an entire 8 minutes had passed since starting the scans. He was about to give in to childish impulses when a tiny chirp signaled the return of completed information. From the looks of it, Commander Tucker was fine, but T'Pol was not. As predicted, her bio-sign was weak and showing signs of early shock; time was swiftly slipping away. Immediately, Thomas went deep into the main computer's matrix and dissolved the Vulcan upgrades. When he was certain there was no evidence of them, he pressed the hail button.

"O'Connor to the Captain."

"Archer here."

Thomas shook his head. It sounded as though the captain had been wide awake, no doubt waiting for someone to call him.

"I've found them sir."

"Get Lieutenant Reed. I'll be up in a moment." Archer ordered

Thomas allowed himself a small smile, despite the situation which grew direr by the second. With any luck, this whole ordeal would be over soon.

"Yes Sir."

Within mere minutes all three men were on the bridge, anxiously studying the scans. O'Connor was silent as his captain went over them with a critical eye, hoping against all that was honest for Archer to buy his explanation. Finally, Archer and Reed shared a look, and O'Connor's head pounded. That particular kind of look signaled only one thing: a dubious pair of commanding officers. Tiredly, he hoped they would rescue the Commander and SubCommander before punishing him.

"Remind me again, ensign," Archer began, eyeing his crewman carefully. "How you were able to isolate their bio-signs in such detail, and in such a short time?"

Malcolm folded his arms and stared warily at the tall Irishman. Thomas swallowed, and unconsciously assumed T'Pol's standard position, consisting of a ramrod straight spine and hands folded neatly behind his back. Inwardly, Archer was amused. In the little time he had spent with Thomas, it seemed that he looked towards T'Pol with a sort of reverence.

"The SubCommander would have done the most logical thing upon landing, sir," The ensign began nervously.

"She would have stayed in the shuttlepod, but when she started feeling the effects of the atmosphere, she would most likely have searched for higher ground, in the possibility that the atmosphere thinned with an increase in altitude. The closest area of raised land is that hill," he said, indicating the hill on the PADD that Archer held.

"And?" Archer prompted.

Thomas drew a deep breath. "And I believed that is were she would have gone. And also that Commander Tucker would have gone with her. So I stopped the current scans an hour ago and ran more detailed ones on the hill. Then I contacted you, sir." He finished, trembling slightly. To his own ears, it sounded weak. And worse yet, the captain didn't seem convinced.

Seeing the ensign's reaction to his questions, Archer knew he was making Thomas uncomfortable. He quickly broke eye contact and went back to studying the PADD, as he considered what Thomas had said. If it was true, Thomas either had extraordinary luck or was unusually quick-witted and logically-minded, which would be a bit odd for an astrophysicist. Normally, they were not so logical, since astrophysics was such an unpredictable and illogical area, dealing with the abstract. 'Yet,' he mused, 'the kid has been working closely with T'Pol for nearly two years now. It was entirely plausible that some of her rigid logic has rubbed off on him.'

He looked at Malcolm and nodded. The Englishman nodded back curtly and briskly made his way to the turbolift, headed for the transporter. Looking back at Thomas, who seemed slightly more relaxed, the captain favored him with a grin.

"T'Pol's always spoken well of you, O'Connor. I trust her comments weren't undeserved."

The Irishman was a little surprised at this, and he smiled cautiously. Only now did he realize how tired he was. Fighting off a yawn, he gazed blearily at the chronometer. Archer followed his eyes, and grinned. The poor kid had earned some time off.

"Go back to your quarters," he said kindly. "And take the day off. You deserve some rest."

Thomas shook his head. "Thank you sir, but I'd rather wait until they're back onboard. I won't be able to rest until I know they're okay."

Archer nodded understandingly as the ensign once again took a seat at the SubCommander's consol. In kind, he returned to his captain's chair to await Malcolm's inevitable call.

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Wrapped entirely in his thoughts, Trip didn't get any rest the rest of that night. He sat opposite the Vulcan woman, watching her sleeping form but not really seeing her. His eyes were wide but unfocused as he replayed the last two years in his mind. Looking back, from the day they'd met to their numerous adventures together, he wondered when exactly he had stopped hating her for her race and began to see her as a woman. It had taken months for them to come to an understanding. He was always challenging her and taken quips at Vulcan culture, she challenging him back and throwing verbal barbs back in his face. Trip remembered there were times he wanted to kill her, and then there was that frightening memory when he almost had.

She had snubbed him, rejected him the moment she saw him; wouldn't let him or anyone else get close. So why had she stayed? Why was she still Enterprise's science officer if she hated them so much? But with a start, he remembered that she had let someone get close: Jon. She and Jon had been off together on more missions than he could remember. Brooding on it as the sky grew pink and purple, he fumed silently. Although he wasn't quite sure why he should be so angry. It wasn't like she was dating anyone, and surely she'd never break regulations like that.

'But then again,' the little, snide voice belonging to jealously said, 'those regulations don't apply to her. And look at the way she acts 'round him; side looks an' such.' And Jon had changed too. That man was the worse Vulcan-hater of all time. Or at least, he once had been. Now, he trusted her like a close friend. He kept her secrets, fought to keep her onboard whenever that damn High Command tried to take her away.

Shaking his head, Trip tried to clear his mind of the burning discomfort. Jon wasn't interested in her. If he was, Trip would've known. 'And besides,' he told himself, 'Jon would never ever break regulations like that.' But the jealousy wouldn't be silent. 'Oh no?' It whispered in the dark. 'He's impulsive; he follows his heart. If he wanted her, he'd do whatever it took to get her.' Trip set his jaw and forced the jealousy out of his mind. He returned to his surroundings and he gazed at T'Pol's still form, not realizing that his look was one of longing.

In place of the jealousy, sadness enveloped him. Things had been going so well. She had actually opened up to him, shared things about herself with him. Trip could count on his hands the number of things he knew about T'Pol. And until recently, all his attempts to get to know her better had been carefully skirted or avoided. But here, in just one day, he had learned about her relationship with her father, why she had chosen her career, and that she actually respected him. Although, with the recent turn of events, it was harder to believe that last one.

He simply couldn't understand why she had suddenly turned so cold. Worse yet, he couldn't possibly fathom why it hurt so much. 'After all,' he reasoned, 'she's the ice queen, and I'm the chief engineer. We're colleagues, nothin' more.' But he didn't really believe that. They WERE something more, or at least it seemed like it. Or maybe he wanted them to be something more. The last thought made Trip think long and hard. Was that really what he wanted? Did he want to be closer to T'Pol, to be the person she came to for comfort or advice? Or did he just want a woman in is bed? Trip was not the kind of man to hide things from himself. He knew full well his history with women, but he also knew that there were two common factors in all those failed relationships: easy women and simple lust that turned into indifference on his part.

He was what some people called a womanizer, he knew it. But he had never felt this way about any woman before. Even in his few serious relationships, they had always begun with lust, which became mild attraction, which eventually turned into mild friendship, if that. None of those applied to his relationship with T'Pol. At first, there had been no attraction. She had been the single most disagreeable, arrogant, and stubborn woman to ever come his way. Those faults had almost nearly cancelled out the effects of her good looks him. Secondly, Trip wasn't the kind of guy to go for difficult women. He didn't really need to, as there was always someone who would readily fall into his embrace. And T'Pol was definitely not easy. All in all he hadn't known her more than a week before he decided she was the last person he would ever like, much less date.

But slowly, things between them began to change. A mutual tolerance formed, which later must have turned into respect. But when he had actually started to entertain feelings for her, he honestly didn't know. 'But it's was pointless anyway,' he knew. 'She made it clear that he had over-stepped some boundaries, and besides. She's a Vulcan, and Vulcan's don't have feelings.'

Sighing, returned to the present. His pyre was a massive pile of glowing ash, and the sun's pink and gold rays shone through in beams through the canopy of treetops. Around him, wildlife was moving and he decided it was time to get up. His eyes ached and his back was stiff, but it didn't matter. None of it mattered now, except T'Pol. He had to get her to safety, and Trip made himself focus solely on that. No feelings, no memories could or would interfere with his personal mission. Getting up gingerly, he cautiously crossed the space between his tree and hers.

"T'Pol?" he called softly. She didn't answer. Turned away from him and curled into her blankets, she didn't even stir. Trip knew that Vulcans needed less sleep than humans, but he judged she had slept for over eight hours. She should have been up hours ago. He called her again, louder this time, but again there was no response. Trip was getting worried now, but was unsure of what to do.

It was clear last night that she wanted to go back to their earlier, aloof relationship. And that meant keeping his distance. But if she didn't wake up when he called her, how was he supposed to rouse her? Steeling his nerves and deciding that he was now in charge; Trip boldly crouched down next to her and gently shook her shoulder. Again, there was no response. He frowned and shook her harder to no avail. Starting to panic, Trip took T'Pol into his arms for the second time in twelve hours, turning her dirty face to look at him.

Her eyelids were relaxed but closed, her lips sealed, and her face composed as usual. Trip spoke her name loudly and shook her, but her head rolled unconsciously to the side as her arm fell limply to the wet ground. Terrified, Trip checked for a pulse. When he couldn't find one, shock seized him. She was gone. Dead in the night. He couldn't think, couldn't breathe. She was gone. Dead in her sleep as he had sat a few feet away, watching but not seeing. Emptiness consumed him, and Trip simply could not feel anything. For long moments, he gazed at her placid face. His thoughts were empty but at the same time filled with her. He was bombarded with every little memory, comment, or look associated with her. He didn't know how long he sat there, cradling her in his arms, but movement brought him back to the present. At first he was confused; he couldn't pinpoint the source of the movement. Suddenly, he realized it was coming from her! He froze, waiting to see if it was true. It was! Her chest was moving against his, rising to press into him before falling almost imperceptibly away and then back again, all in a wonderful repetitive motion.

Trip nearly cried with relief. She was alive. Alive and breathing, though just barely. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew this was bad; this was terrible. The end was near. He could almost feel her precious life force draining away, leaving him with an empty shell of the woman she once was. There was nothing he could do to comfort her. He was helpless, and he was lost without her. So, deciding there was only one thing to do, he held her closer (though careful not to restrict her breathing) and touched his forehead to hers. She was burning up, but it comforted Trip to know that she wasn't entirely gone. He still had a few precious moments with her. So he closed his eyes and brought his lips to her mouth. It didn't matter if it was right or wrong. He would never know if what he felt for her was love, as he believed it to be. Very, very gently, he kissed her. He savored the warmth of her full lips, the moist flesh that still was home to her spirit. He held the tears back as he remained silent, determined not to shame her even if it meant denying himself the one thing that would give him peace in the future. She would never know, but he would. And in the lonely nights yet to come, he would cherish the memory of that one chaste kiss, and he would remember her forever.

A/N: Oh, this was tough. If it didn't come out well, I'm sorry. Trying to put these complicated emotions down on paper is difficult work, let me tell you. What did you think? Was it in character? Did I do a good job with thoughts, revelations and feelings? I really really need to know! Give me feedback, critique and/or praise! *Whew* Okay, I think there will be one more chapter for this story, and then I'll move on to the sequel. Look for the conclusion sometime soon!

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A handful of people have made comments

Oh, Jesus woman, don't leave them like that!

Oh my gawd! Please don't let it end like this!
This story is so well written. I just have to have more!

Oh wow, poor Trip, poor T'Pol! Hopefully Thomas's hard work will ensure Malcolm gets to them in the nick of time. This was excellent, I loved it. And that little chaste kiss at the end did it for me. Can't wait for the next part, Ali D :~)

aaaaahhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!! what the hell! come on don't leave us like this!

Aratte! Congrats on the Stanford creative writing program! Too wonderful. Although I don't know if he ever conducted the summer program, Wallace Stegner was the chair of the creative writing program at Stanford. If your haven't read it, read "Angle of Repose." Love Wally! Too sad when he died in that car crash :^(.

Your story is very good. I love the kiss and the realization on Trip's part that T'Pol may not fit his ideal, but that she is the one he wants. However, would Trip see himself as a womanizer? He seems pretty clueless about women to me.

Please continue!