Let the Angels Wait

FIX THE FINALE CHALLENGE

Let the Angels Wait

By Llewella

Genre: Drama/Romance
Rating: R
Archiving: Please ask first.
Disclaimer 1: Everything Star Trek related belongs to Paramount. I’m not making any money off of this, and I own nothing of value, so please don’t sue.
Disclaimer 2: My story uses elements from the following media – The Chronicles of Amber by Roger Zelazeny, The Tales of Alvin Maker by Orson Scott Card, Sliders, and Joan of Arcadia. I don’t own any of these, and hope that whoever does doesn’t sue me either.
Summary: It’s been seven months since the events of TATV. Trip is dead (kind of), and T’Pol has moved on with her life (sort of). It all works out in the end though.

A/N1: I came up with this story idea before the finale aired. Even though I tried to work the plot around the events of TATV, there are scenes in the episode that do not jive with what I’ve written.

A/N2: Warning: If you’re looking for a short and simple way of fixing the finale, you’ve come to the wrong story.

I would like to extend my appreciation to my excellent betas, Misplaced, Trippy, and Distracted. Thanks for putting up with me…and my cliffhangers. ;)

******

Prologue

There is more in the universe than can be seen with the naked eye. Non-corporal, existing on a different plane, and omnipresent, they bear witness to the events of the universe and are the guardians to the fabric of time.

While their unwavering vigilance ensures the continued existence of the universe, without the universe they serve no purpose, and that purposeless would eventually render them obsolete. Theirs is a symbiotic relationship, where one cannot exist without the other.

They are impartial observers.

They do not influence the events of the universe.

They are called Watchers.

But what happens, if a Watcher does more than just watch?

******

It is a small apartment. As you look around the main living area, you find it sparsely furnished and very well organised. The shelved books are lined flush with the bookcase, pads are stacked and straight on the desk, chairs are neatly pushed in, and no dust lies on any surface. Standing there, you get the feeling that if you measured the placement of objects in the room everything would either be straight or at right angles with each other. The place seems almost excessively neat, as if whoever lives here needs to control every aspect of their surroundings. You can see nothing interesting in the apartment, no decorations, no pictures, and no personal knickknacks to give the residence character or personality. Even the colours used in the room are dull shades of beige and grey.

Upon hearing a noise you turn towards the front door and see the owner of the apartment enter the foyer. It is a female. She is short and of slim build. Moving closer you see that she has short brown hair, brown eyes and pointed ears; a Vulcan. She is carrying a duffel bag on her shoulder. She looks tired, with dark circles under her eyes and hollow cheeks, but her posture is straight and her face is impassive. Pausing briefly at her computer terminal she checks her messages before heading to the bedroom. You follow behind her.

The bedroom is as nondescript, sparsely furnished and as organised as the main living room. You see a double bed, nightstand, meditation mats and some candles. After putting her bag down at the foot of the bed she opens the closet door. In it are Vulcan robes, casual wear and uniforms. Nothing remarkable and every bit as neatly arranged as the rest of the place. You are about to turn away when a certain something catches your attention. It’s a shirt; a very bright, loud and colourful shirt with strange twisting patterns that appear to have nothing to do with aesthetics. It is ghastly to behold and totally out of place in the muted tones of the apartment. It is also definitely not hers. Reaching out she touches one of the sleeves gently with her fingertips, treating it like a delicate flower that might fall apart. A far away look crosses her face and you notice that now, not only does she look tired, she also looks sad. Pulling her hand back she takes a bathrobe out of the closet and closes the door. She walks into the bathroom. Satisfied that you have found what you came for, you slip out of the apartment as quietly as you came.

Part 1

In the shower T’Pol put the hot water on full, letting the heat and steam of the cascading water massage and ease her tired muscles. As a commander, and one of the most experienced explorers in Starfleet, she had surprised several of her colleagues by not taking a posting on another starship after Enterprise had been decommissioned. Though she had received many offers and even had some personal calls to try to persuade her otherwise, T’Pol had politely but firmly refused all entreaties. Instead she joined a science team, and for the past seven months had visited planets that had been slated for further study. Their job was to assess the viability of further development on that world for colonisation or mining. Assignments ranged from a few days to several weeks, and always meant long gruelling hours. Additionally, her work often involved a lot of hiking in rough terrain, tedious data collection, eating bland Starfleet rations, and sleeping on uncomfortable cots at night. It was not a glamorous position, or even one that utilised T’Pol’s best talents, but she was good at it. It was also something she could do that did not involve any social interactions. The focus was to complete the tasks as quickly as possible, not to make friends.

If some observers thought that her current job was the opposite of what she had done previously on Enterprise for ten years, they would have been right. She was no longer a scientist who worked with the best in Starfleet to explore new worlds and new civilisations. She was a scientist who returned to where others had been before to perform the same routine tests every time. Perhaps this new position did not provide her with the same satisfaction as exploration, but what it did provide was a large amount of physical activity. By the end of the day, it made her too tired to think about the past and it also guaranteed that she would fall into a dreamless slumber. At least that was what happened most days. Tonight though, T’Pol was feeling nostalgic and her mind had enough energy to wander back to a time when life held so much more promise.

She did not want to think about him, but it seemed inevitable that she would do so. Charles ‘Trip’ Tucker III and T’Pol had begun as adversaries, but ended as bondmates. Their ten-year relationship was frustrating, wonderful, and complicated. Occasionally it was all three at the same time.

The death of their daughter six years ago had proven to them the necessity of a hidden relationship. In the subsequent years after her death, alien intolerance on Earth had not abated. Even though Trip would risk his life to be with T’Pol, and she for him, they refused to jeopardise the lives of their friends and family. This meant that both on and off duty they presented a strictly professional attitude with each other; no lingering glances, no finger touching, and no teasing. T’Pol never went down to engineering without an explicit purpose, and always left promptly afterwards. They stopped sitting together in the mess hall, and only had meals together when accompanied by the Captain. They even refrained from arguing with each other, no matter how tempting it was at times. Eventually the rumours of their involvement no longer circulated amongst the crew and it became ‘common knowledge’ that their relationship was a thing of the past. It was not true of course, but they maintained the charade admirably, even during the times of war. If their closest friends ever suspected that more was going on between them, they never spoke of it, respecting--and likely understanding--the need for concealment. It was hard being in a relationship and having to pretend otherwise, but they got through it by treasuring their stolen moments of privacy and making the most of their time together. T’Pol had no regrets and she knew that Trip never had any either.

The cooling spray of water drew T’Pol out of her recollections. Stepping out of the shower, she dried herself with a towel before pulling on the robe. Returning to the bedroom, she prepared for meditation by lighting candles and settling down on a mat. She closed her eyes and sought calm. An hour later, she gave up. Unable to clear her mind, T’Pol could not reach her meditation space. The reasons for her lack of focus were illogical and foolish, but ever since coming back to the apartment she had felt a vague sense of unease, as if something was not quite right.

Realising that any further attempts to meditate were pointless, T’Pol blew out her candles and prepared for bed. She dreamed. Tonight, it seemed that there would be no escaping Trip. In her dream she found herself on a planet the crew had taken shore leave on two years ago. In one of his moments of brilliance, Trip had engineered a plan for them to slip away and be alone for a while. Together, they had sat on the beach to watch the sunset, and held each other until the sun rose the next morning. Now, in her dream, she was standing on the very same beach. She was alone. In the midst of wondering why her mind insisted on torturing her lately, she saw in the distance something approaching her. It was a person and as the figure came closer, she noted that the being appeared human, with short brown hair, dark eyes, average height, and average build. The person was unremarkable except for the fact that the person was an “it”. There were no signs as to its gender, and it could have easily passed as either a male or female. Stopping about two metres in front of T’Pol it smiled and said in a clear, gender-neutral voice, “Hello T’Pol, I’m glad to finally meet you. Trip needs your help.”

Part 2

T’Pol was momentarily stunned, but to her credit recovered quickly, “That is impossible. Trip is dead and I am dreaming. You are a part of my dream and therefore are not real.”

It sighed and its shoulders dropped slightly, “I knew this wouldn’t be easy. I don’t have a lot of time here and there’s a lot to explain. You may not believe I am real, but even if I’m not, it wouldn’t hurt to listen now, would it?”

Its logic was sound; T’Pol conceded. A fact which, she disliked to admit, annoyed her a little, but maybe if she let it have its say it would then leave her alone. “You may proceed with your explanation,” she reluctantly agreed.

“This may sound really out there, but what you saw was ‘a’ Trip who died, not ‘the’ Trip. During the explosion, I believe he was pulled into an alternate universe and was replaced with his duplicate from that universe. The Trip who died in your Sickbay wasn’t the ‘real’ one from your universe. Your Trip is stuck in an alternate universe and you need to find him and bring him back to where he belongs.”

There was silence. T’Pol stared at it very hard. “That is impossible,” she stated finally, “the Vulcan Science Directorate has examined the theories. They have found no evidence of alternate realities.”

“Well, I’m here to tell you they’re wrong. It’s not the first time.”

Although she knew that Vulcan Science Directorate was not always accurate in their assessments, she was not about to admit to it. Instead she asked, “What are you?”

“I’m a Watcher. By watching events, unfold I make sure the ‘real’ universe, and as a consequence all alternate universes, exist. You see, all alternate universes are derived from one ‘real’ universe. Whenever a decision is made in the ‘real’ universe, all ‘other’ possible scenarios are played out in the different universes, and thus, the ‘alternate universes’ are created. Some of them only last seconds, while others will continue for many years. It all depends on how long it takes the scenario to run its course.”

Despite herself, T’Pol’s scientific interest was piqued, “If what you say is true there are countless alternate universes.”

“Of course there are. Aren’t you the ones who believe in ‘Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations’?”

T’Pol looked at it with a speculative expression, but did not feel inclined to answer.

She let the moment stretch until the being finally took the hint that the discussion was over. “Okay then,” it said, “looks like you have a lot to mull over. I’ll see you again tomorrow night.” With that, it disappeared, and T’Pol was once again left standing on the beach alone.

When T’Pol opened her eyes, she was greeted by the coming dawn. The dream had been rather strange and unsettling, to say the least. She could remember the conversation and almost every detail about the dream perfectly. Unsure of what was real and what was imaginary anymore, she decided to seek a second opinion.

******

The annual Medical Conference held not too far from San Francisco attracted many of the leading physicians of various species. It was a chance to meet colleagues, exchange stories, and to find out the latest news, rumours, and speculations. Although not usually interested in attending such gatherings, T’Pol was looking forward to reacquainting herself with an old friend who was there.

After a warm greeting from Dr. Phlox, they spent some time catching up before T’Pol asked that he perform a complete physical on her. In particular, she wanted him to check her brainwave patterns for any irregularities.

“Has something happened that has prompted this request?” He asked, sounding surprised.

“I would prefer not to discuss this now so as to not bias your opinion.” It was not really a lie. She in fact did not want Phlox biased, but more importantly she was not comfortable discussing the dream or Trip, even with the Doctor, and especially at a conference with so little privacy.

Phlox’s look was speculative, but all he said was, “I see. Well, I’ll need to clear it with Medical Centre first, but that shouldn’t be a problem. Wait here, I’ll just be a moment.”

True to his word, Phlox was back momentarily and now, sitting in the medical facilities, she was patiently waiting for him to return with her test results. With nothing to do, T’Pol considered her current status. Her reacquaintance with Phlox had made her realise that her self-imposed isolation over the last seven months had meant that she had lost touch with her friends and colleagues on Enterprise. She wondered where they were and how they were faring. She thought that perhaps it was time to reconnect with them.

A short while later, the door opened and Phlox came back to the medical bay. “You’ll be happy to hear,” he began, “that all scans show that you are in good health. Your stress levels are a little high, but apart from that everything appears normal.”

There was nothing wrong with her. It was both a relief and a cause for concern. “Is there something troubling you T’Pol?” Phlox asked in a compassionate voice. She hesitated initially, but in the end revealed to him why she had wanted a medical examination. He listened patiently and did not interrupt, even when her speech faltered at the mention of Commander Tucker. After she had finished speaking he commented, “I can tell you that there is nothing in my scans that indicates psychosis or a cause for hallucination.”

“Are you suggesting that the dream was real?”

“Not at all,” Phlox replied, “I am merely stating what the test results have shown me; and I am reassuring you that you are not crazy. That was the reason for the physical, was it not?”

“You are correct.” She began to fidget, “While I am relieved that my mental capacity is not in question, this leads me to an even more disturbing scenario.” Trying not to sound distressed, she continued, “The dream seems too impossible to be true but even so, I have not been able to dismiss its message.” She looked at the floor, unable to meet the doctor’s gaze.

“T’Pol,” the doctor said gently, “from my experiences on Enterprise, I’ve come to realise the word ‘impossible’ is too absolute. I now tend to believe that ‘not very likely’ is a much better way to describe possibilities.”

“What is your diagnosis then?”

“We have known each other for many years, and I’ve never seen you go off on flights of fancy. That being said, the most likely reason for your dreams is a manifestation of unresolved issues regarding Commander Tucker. This may be your mind’s own way of resolving them. Normally I would suggest the patient talk with a professional about this…” T’Pol looked up, unable to hide her alarmed expression, “but I understand that may not be an option for you. If you are comfortable with the idea, I suggest you continue the dreams, and see where they take you. You are one of the most level-headed people I know. I trust you to evaluate the situation fairly and come to the right conclusion.”

She thought for a moment, “Normally Vulcans suppress their dreams, but under the circumstances, I will consider your suggestion.”

Smiling, Phlox responded, “Don’t hesitate to contact me again. I will be returning to Denobula at the end of the week but you know how to reach me if you need to.” Looking more seriously at her, he added, “I mean this as both your doctor and good friend.”

“Thank-you Doctor, I appreciate everything that you have done for me.”

“Take care of yourself T’Pol.”

After a final nod of farewell, she left the medical centre and walked back to her apartment. Although T’Pol was no closer to finding her answers, she was at least for the moment, feeling a little less alone.

Part 3

Later that evening, T’Pol found herself sitting on her bedroom floor preparing to mediate. She paused to consider her options. Meditating usually prevented her from dreaming, but if she wanted to investigate her dreams, suppressing them would be counterproductive. The logical course of action then would be not to meditate, but if the choice was clear, why was she hesitating? The answer was simple, even if she did not want to acknowledge it. She was afraid; not of the dream itself, but of what the dream meant for her personally. If the dream was real, then Trip was alive somewhere and needed her. The very idea was enough to make her heart beat faster, but equally unsettling was the thought that the dream was not real. What if it really was just her imagination? She wanted to move past her loss of Trip, and put those feelings behind her; but if her subconscious was trying to feed her hope that he was still alive, then obviously she was not over him. This would also mean she was not in control of her emotions, and that was something very dangerous for a Vulcan. She needed to know one way or the other. It was as simple as that.

Steeling her resolve, she rose from her meditation position, walked over to the bed and slipped under the covers. If she were human, T’Pol would have probably spent a considerable amount of time tossing and turning on the bed, tying not to be apprehensive while attempting fall asleep. Fortunately for her she was a Vulcan, and could be apprehensive just fine while remaining perfectly still.

This time her dream brought T’Pol to Vulcan. She was standing in the courtyard in front of her mother’s house, the place Trip had once called beautiful…

“So you’re back,” a voice said from behind her.

Turing around, T’Pol found herself facing the Watcher again. “It was the logical thing to do,” she replied evenly. “I believe it would be beneficial to continue our discussion.”

“So do you think this is real? Do you think I’m real?”

“I have not yet decided. I have questions that need to be answered first.”

“Ask away.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Umm, that’s kind of complicated. Can we start with something easier? I promise I’ll get back to it later.”

T’Pol did not look pleased, but acquiesced to the request. “You claim to have the ability to see into other universes and to be able to tell if someone is missing. Why do you still need my help?”

“We are non-corporeal in the real and alternate universes. In our natural form, we cannot communicate with corporeal species or change any of the events occurring in the universe. The only way we can speak with a corporeal species is through their dreams. If I want this incident corrected, I’ll need you to do it.”

“We?”

“I am only one of many. It’s a very big universe and there’s a lot to see.”

“How do you know the real Trip is still alive?”

“All alternate universes are derived from one real one. Once a ‘real’ person dies that person can make no more decisions, and hence, no new alternate universes are created with that individual. One by one their presence in the various existing alternate universes will diminish as they each eventually come to an end. A considerable time has elapsed since Trip’s death and his presence in the other universes have not declined.”

“That is hardly conclusive evidence to prove that he is alive.”

“Not so far, but fortunately there’s more. I need your permission to change our present location though.”

“My permission?”

“This is your dream. You decide who stays, who goes, and where we talk.”

“I can compel you leave?”

“Any time you want, but if I’m going to answer your first question, I’ll need to show you something. Relax your control and I can change our location.”

The knowledge that she was in control of her dream made T’Pol less uneasy about her situation. She decided to see what it had to show her. “You may proceed” she told it after a moment.

“Thank-you.”

The scenery shifted, and the next thing T’Pol knew she was in a massive room that was filled with rolls and rolls of…cloth? “Where are we?”

“This is the creation of the universe,” it replied, gesturing grandly. At T’Pol’s raised eyebrow, it amended, “…metaphorically speaking of course. This is the closest approximation I could think of to describe what I see as a Watcher. You can call this the tapestry room. Follow me.” Leading her to one end of the room, T’Pol saw a loom methodically spinning out more of the tapestry. “What you see here is a sort of record of events in the universe. Each thread represents an individual and as events occur, patterns are made and the tapestry is built.”

Studying the tapestry, T’Pol realised that it was quite stunning. With so many different coloured threads, it should have looked chaotic and disorganised, but it did not. The colours complimented each other, and wove such beautiful patterns that it was mesmerising to behold. Some patterns were intricate and others simple, but each fit the overall scheme perfectly. It was like artwork; a living piece of artwork. Turning her head to speak to the Watcher, she was about to ask it a question, but paused when she saw the pained expression on its face. It was staring intently at a particular point on the tapestry. Looking back, T’Pol noticed that there was a hole in the piece that was being formed, an emptiness that marred the surrounding magnificence.

It finally spoke. “You asked my why I’m doing this earlier. Here is your answer. We see beauty in creation, and his displacement is a form of destruction. It is contrary to my existence as a Watcher and is painful to witness. The holes in the tapestry represent events that can no longer happen, and the holes are getting larger. This needs to be corrected or I fear the universe will eventually cease to exist.” It turned to look directly at T’Pol, “Will you help us?”

Seeing the openly distressed expression on the Watcher’s face and looking at the damaged tapestry, T’Pol made her decision and said simply, “Yes.”

******

The next morning T’Pol went to the address the Watcher had given her. The place turned out to be an art store. Still unsure and a little wary of what she had agreed to do last night, she contemplated the information the Watcher had disclosed. It was likely that Trip did not know he was displaced. There would have been a discord in that universe if he did, and the Watcher would have tracked him down easily. Since there was none, and it could not tell the different Trips apart, it did not know which alternate universe he was currently in. When asked why it thought she would have a better chance at finding him, it responded that according to the Tapestry, her thread most closely paralleled Trip’s. The Watcher believed they had some kind of connection that would aid her in the task. Additionally, it chose her to help because it found the chaos of human minds an impediment to communication during dreams. The order of Vulcan minds made it easier to speak to them; but Vulcans did not dream. How fortunate then that T’Pol had recently developed the habit of doing so.

Entering the art store she discovered that the place sold abstract metallic sculptures. The owner was a strange man who greeted her with too much enthusiasm and bustled around, extolling the virtues of each piece of artwork. When she declined his offers, he promised her he had the perfect piece for her in the back, and shuffled out of the room. Beginning to doubt her dreams and her sanity, T’Pol considered escaping out the front door when she felt a slight tug on her hand. Looking down she saw a scrawny and dirty boy with red hair staring at her with wide and frightened eyes.

“Are you the lady who will save the universe?” he whispered in an awed voice.

Crouching down so they were at eye level, T’Pol responded seriously, “I will do my best to try.”

Nodding, the boy took his hands out from behind his back and presented their contents to her. “This is for you.” It was a scanner. Taking the device from his hands, she thanked the boy, who flashed her a brief lopsided grin before scampering away. The owner returned with more artwork and on an impulse T’Pol actually purchased one of the pieces he presented. It was not a useful or a particularly attractive sculpture but buying it made the owner very happy, and besides, she thought, the apartment could use some decoration.

******

Back in her apartment, T’Pol examined the device closely. It was a modified scanner that the Watcher had said would allow T’Pol to travel to alternate universes. It did so by detecting the location of passage nodes. At designated times and places, the device could be programmed to emit the right frequency to open a node passage and permit her to pass through to an alternate universe. The device itself was powered by a part of the Watcher’s own energy and it would only last for about two months. She needed to find Trip and return before then or she, too, would be trapped in another universe. Calling her task daunting would have been an understatement. There were eighty-seven alternate universes that Trip could be in, and with no proven ability to identify the ‘real’ Trip from the copies, she had to rely on faith and luck much more than she was comfortable with. At her suggestion that the Watcher narrow down the possible alternate universes, it had responded that eighty-seven was the narrowed down version. Apparently, Trip had blown himself up in quite a few universes. T’Pol made a mental note that if she ever did recover Trip she would make sure he was more careful in the future.

There was of course one other complication. The Watcher did not believe that Trip’s displacement was an accident. Whoever made the switch would likely not be pleased with T’Pol for interfering. The Watcher’s job was to find the perpetrator and stop them while she looked for Trip.

With her journey beginning tomorrow morning, preparations for it were rather simple. She cleared her schedule for the next two months and packed a small nondescript duffel bad with necessities. She expected to travel a lot and did not want to be hampered with luggage. She also made sure her affairs were in order in case she did not return. Leaving everything of value to Dr. Phlox, she gave him permission to distribute her possessions as he saw fit. Her final tasks now complete, she had nothing left to do but get a good night’s sleep so she would be refreshed and ready for the most bizarre mission of her life.

Part 4

It was late afternoon and the streets of San Francisco were alive and busy. With everyone preoccupied with trying to get to where he needed to be, it was understandable that no one noticed that in the shadows, between two buildings, a faint shimmering disturbed the air. If someone had been looking, they would have seen a person step away from the shadows, then slip unobtrusively onto the street to become part of the bustling crowd. Nobody was looking though, so no one noticed.

******

It had been close to four weeks and T’Pol had spent time in thirteen different universes. Bizarre did not begin to cover what she had been through. She would have considered recording her experiences if she thought anyone would ever believe her. This was currently her twelfth passage across the nodes, and like all the previous ones this San Francisco looked nearly identical to the ‘real’ one. There were subtle differences of course, if one knew what to look for. A building would be grey instead of blue. A bakery was now an electronics repair shop. A street would have a different name. It was strange to be in such a familiar place and yet feel so out of place.

T’Pol treated every universe she visited as a first contact mission. This meant that her first task was to familiarise herself with the social and political climate of the city before looking for Trip. When faced with the unknown, the best recourse was to gather information. Where else was information more abundant then at the public library? One of the benefits of being friends with Lieutenant Sato was that Hoshi enjoyed sharing her knowledge. Apart from translating languages, Hoshi was also a talented code breaker, and had taught T’Pol a few tricks that she had been able to put to good use lately.

Three hours later, and satisfied that she knew enough to pass for a local, or at least someone from the same universe, T’Pol headed for Starfleet Headquarters. There were some things that were consistent in all the universes T’Pol had visited so far, and one of them was that Trip was always a member of Starfleet. Curiously though, another constant was that she herself was never a member. Hacking into Starfleet’s file system turned out to be quite easy. Lieutenant Commander Reed would not be pleased, she mused absently. In this universe, Trip was the head researcher in Starfleet’s Research and Development Labs, and his direct superior was Admiral Forrest. By breaking into records T’Pol created a false identity for herself and then contacted the Admiral’s office.

Over the years, T’Pol had learned that if you looked like you knew where you were going and that you were exactly where you were supposed to be, everyone assumed that was true. The fact that she was a Vulcan also helped to intimidate people and discourage them from questioning her presence. Although, to be fair, T’Pol did know where she was going and did belong there; well, sort of. Her appointment with Admiral Forrest was under a false identity, but since she could not use her own, it was a necessary deception. She arrived at the designated time and waited in the reception area while the Admiral was informed of her arrival.

The communication she had sent to the Admiral had suggested possible joint ventures between Vulcans and Humans in various research projects that would be beneficial to both species. Of particular interest was the Gessomite project. Gessomite was a substance that, in small quantities could improve the efficiency of a warp core engine by as much as forty per cent. The drawback was that pure Gessomite had a tendency to combust at the high temperatures needed for a warp reactor to function. To enable the substance to withstand such heat, it needed to be mixed with Caleium. The problem was that Caleium also reduced the efficiency of Gessomite. What they wanted to find was the Gessomite to Caleium ratio that balanced efficiency with stability. So far, the formula had been elusive to both human and Vulcan scientists. Eight months ago, during an experimental run, an accident had occurred in one of Starfleet’s labs and the head researcher had been seriously injured in an explosion.

After the incident, the project had been deemed unsafe and subsequently abandoned. Knowing Trip, T’Pol was certain that he would not have been happy with the decision to shut down one of his projects. He would have taken it personally, as if he had failed in some way. When given a particularly challenging problem, he would focus all his attention on it and work constantly until it was solved or he collapsed from exhaustion; whichever came first. His determination and drive was one of his greatest assets, but also could be one of his biggest flaws.

The Admiral’s office door opened and two individuals stepped out. One of them was Forrest. The other was a woman who was introduced as his wife. She gave T’Pol a brief and polite smile before excusing herself. After she left, Admiral Forrest ushered T’Pol into his office to discuss her proposal. Her arguments for joint projects between Humans and Vulcans were quite convincing. It would foster better relations between the two species, and allow both parties to develop more quickly than either could alone. Of course, the idea was only in its infant stages and would take some time in the making. She was here informally to gauge the response and perhaps evaluate their facilities. This eventually led to an invitation to tour the R and D labs. T’Pol readily accepted, hoping she would see Trip during the excursion.

An hour into the tour, T’Pol had met several of the researchers, but not Trip. Realising that a chance meeting was not going to happen, she decided to take a more proactive approach. Looking for an opportunity to steer the conversation inconspicuously to their head researcher and his whereabouts, T’Pol got her chance when she was shown their warp reactor simulator.

“I am impressed, Admiral. This is a very unique and innovative design.” T’Pol knew full well who would have come up with it.

Fortunately, Admiral Forrest did not disappoint. “For this creation, I’ll have to give credit to my head researcher, Commander Tucker. He’s been responsible for many of R and D’s successful endeavours.”

“Would it be possible for me to meet with the Commander?” She asked in a carefully neutral tone.

“Regretfully, the Commander is vacationing at his cabin at the moment. Perhaps another time.”

“Yes. Perhaps.” T’Pol hid her disappointment. This told her that Trip was not here, but she still needed to find out where he was. Asking the Admiral where the cabin was located was not an option, so the tour concluded with no further discussion of Trip.

After bidding the Admiral farewell, T’Pol walked down a street in San Francisco and considered the next phase of her plan. She needed to find the address of his cabin, and soon. She was aware of how many universes she might still need to explore, and she was running short on time. She returned to the library to apply a little more of her ‘skill’. After breaking in to records again, it took awhile to go through all the flight and vehicle rental receipts before she finally found what she wanted. To her surprise, his cabin was not on some hot beach as she expected. It was located north, in a remote area of the Rocky Mountains. Booking the next transport to the region, T’Pol left the library and headed towards the departure terminal, hoping she could get to his cabin before dark.

******

In a hurry and preoccupied with other thoughts, it was understandable at that moment T’Pol did not consider that her situation might be compromised. If she had though, she would have realised that across the street, someone was watching her.

******

So far, the trip had been uneventful. Since Trip had inconveniently located his cabin in a remote area that was inaccessible by local transportation, T’Pol needed to stop by the nearest resort for a rental vehicle in order to get there. As usual, there were the stares and some whispered questions about a Vulcan going to a human pleasure resort. Obviously they were unfamiliar with a Vulcan’s superior sense of hearing, or maybe they just did not care that she heard. Either way, T’Pol ignored them easily, her face and body language the definition of indifference.

Under ideal conditions, the drive up would have taken T’Pol two hours, but snow had come early this year, so travelling the roads turned out to be somewhat hazardous. It took T’Pol a littler under three and a half hours before she found herself pulling up to a small, two story cabin nestled against the mountain. It looked cosy. Climbing out of the vehicle, T’Pol found that she was shaking slightly. Surely it was the abrupt change in temperature that had brought that on she reasoned. It most certainly had nothing to do with the anticipation of possibly seeing her Trip again, she told herself firmly…no, absolutely nothing at all. She had done this twelve different times and each time she had been disappointed. She should not get her hopes up. Carefully walking up the porch steps, T’Pol took a deep breath to steady her nerves before reaching out and ringing the doorbell. How long she stood there waiting on that porch, T’Pol did not know, but when the door swung open, her heart stopped and—

Part 5

Trip forgot how to breathe. Standing before him was the most gorgeous woman he had ever laid eyes on. It seemed like the world came to a standstill. He could do nothing at the moment but stare. She was perfect. It was like finding a lost treasure by chance. A treasure he hadn’t even known belonged to him. Gazing into her lovely brown eyes, he felt a jolt in his mind, as if something was clicking into place. He felt a connection with her that was almost tangible. It was incredible; it was invigorating; it was…insane.

Finally snapping out of his stupor, he managed a half-strangled “hi” and winced inwardly at his awkwardness. Clearing his throat he tried again. “Can I help you?” Much better he thought. She didn’t answer right away and when he noticed that she was shivering, Trip almost kicked himself for his lack of manners. “I’m terribly sorry,” he said hurriedly, “You must be freezing out here. Please, come in.”

“Thank-you.” That was all she said as he ushered her into the main room of the cabin.

He hung up her jacket and offered a comfortable chair while he took the one opposite. After she had settled in, he decided that introductions were in order. Smiling, he held out his hand to her and said, “Hi, my name’s Trip.” His smile faltered when he realised what he’d just done. She’s a Vulcan! He chastised himself. They don’t touch strangers.

He was about to drop his hand and apologise when to his amazement and delight, she grasped his hand with her own and said in a soft and beautiful voice, “I am pleased to meet you. My name is T’Pol.”

Trip’s smile warmed. He had been so certain that she would have rebuffed his overture. Her handshake was brief but firm; the heat of her palm warmed his hand and travelled up his arm, giving him a tingly feeling that was making him giddy. Stop it, he scolded himself and reluctantly released her hand. Still feeling the tingly sensation in his arm, Trip abruptly realised that she had begun speaking and forced himself to focus on the words. T’Pol was explaining that she was a member of the Vulcan Science Directorate, and that the Directorate had been contemplating possible joint projects between humans and Vulcans.

“This is all very interesting,” he interrupted, “but, and don’t take this the wrong way, why are you here talking to me? I’m on leave, and anyway, I’m not the one who makes these kinds of decisions. Admiral Forrest is the one you should be discussing this with.”

“As a matter of fact I have spoken to the Admiral recently. He was rather supportive of the endeavour. The purpose of my expedition here is to discuss a particular project that you might find of special interest.”

“The Gessomite Project,” he said a little suspiciously, “what about it? It’s been shut down.”

“It has been shut down for now” she emphasised. “We have found your research to be of great interest. Our scientists have also been unable to find an effective formulation. Perhaps by working together we may yet be successful.”

“So what you’re saying is we should pool our resources?” Trip said incredulously.

She raised an eyebrow. “You find this surprising?”

“Well to be honest, yeah I do. The Vulcans have never been very enthusiastic with sharing before. What’s changed?”

“Nothing has ‘changed’. This is merely the logical progression in the alliance between humans and Vulcans.

“Okay, so what problems have the Vulcans been having with the formula?”

Her hesitation and the slight shift in her eyes before answering made him wary. “We were hoping you would be willing discuss your ideas before we move further with the proposition.”

So that’s it, Trip thought. “You’re here to find out what I know,” he accused, “and if it’s good enough, maybe you’ll let me see what you have. That’s a funny definition of sharing you have,” he continued sarcastically. “You know, you’re right nothing has changed.”

He saw her spine stiffen. In a tense voice she said, “I am here only to discuss the possibility of a joint venture. As the head researcher, you are someone with whom we would need to work closely. We have no interest in stealing information or in forcing unwilling individuals to work with us.” With that T’Pol stood up, as if she were going to leave.

It was the first time Trip had seen a Vulcan look so offended and pissed off. She looked so genuinely insulted that he began to doubt his accusation. Maybe she did come here to have a reasonable discussion and he was jumping to conclusions. He really should hear her out first.

That was of course just a rationalisation. What was foremost in his mind was that she was going to leave, and Trip knew that was the last thing he wanted. Standing up as well, he tried to stop her. “Wait T’Pol, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.” At her raised an eyebrow, he admitted a little sheepishly, “Okay, maybe I did mean it, sort of.”

Her silence prompted him to elaborate, “It’s just that you always seem to be checking up on us, telling us we’re not mature enough to handle space travel or sophisticated technology. We’ve had to fight so hard for everything we have that sometimes it feels like you’re trying to hold us back. I look for a catch because there always seems to be one. But none of this is your fault, and you shouldn’t have to take any of this from me. I’m sorry. You don’t have to leave.”

Her eyes softened and he found himself once again gazing into them, mesmerised. He suddenly realised how close they were standing, and self-consciously took a step back. With the moment broken, T’Pol spoke.

“Your apologies are accepted. Under the circumstances it is understandable that you have misgivings. Not all Vulcans are in agreement with how the High Command has handled the alliance with humans.” She hesitated and then added, “There are no hard feelings.”

Trip smiled his relief. “I’m glad. You know this project you’re suggesting sounds great. I really like the idea of Humans and Vulcans working together. I bet the results would be phenomenal.”

“Indeed they would be,” she agreed.

******

With the initial misunderstandings out of the way, they sat down again and began to discuss various projects that would benefit from their co-operation, but not in too much detail though. Even if she wasn’t there to gather information from him, Trip was not authorised to disclose anything sensitive. They shared ideas, and he found out very quickly how incredibly smart she was. Beauty and brains he mused. Not only was she interested in his ideas, she had insightful ones of her own to add. They spent the better part of the evening in intellectual discussion, and sometimes argument, but it was always friendly, even if it got a little heated. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such an intellectually stimulating conversation. Trip lost track of time. It was dark before he realised how late it was.

He had really enjoyed talking to T’Pol. She wasn’t like any other Vulcan he had met before. She was smart, insightful, easy to talk to, and she didn’t seem to mind him either.

“Why don’t you stay the night?” Trip suggested impulsively, surprising himself with the invitation. Where had that come from? At T’Pol’s raised eyebrow, he amended quickly, “If you want to. I mean it’s dark, the snow’s started to fall, and the roads are probably slippery and dangerous. If you’re not in any hurry to be anywhere tomorrow, there’s no reason to risk it. I have a guest bedroom and everything and uh…” He was babbling. He knew it but he couldn’t seem to find the stop button. He felt ridiculous and to make matters worse, he could feel the heat rising in his cheeks.

Luckily, T’Pol saved him from further embarrassment by replying. “That is very thoughtful of you. I accept your invitation.”

Perhaps it was just the lighting, but for a moment, Trip could have sworn he saw amusement reflected in her eyes. It was gone so fast though that he couldn’t be sure it wasn’t just his imagination.

******

It was late at night when T’Pol settled down in the guest bedroom to mediate. Tonight she was in desperate need to calm herself if she was going to get any sleep. The day had been both stressful and wonderful at the same time. From the moment had she laid eyes on Trip the bond had come alive, practically singing with the recognition of her bondmate. As much as she had wanted to throw her arms around him and kiss him senseless, that was not an option, at least not yet. He did not recognise her or remember his time on Enterprise. Her plan now was to spend more time with him, and surreptitiously remind him of his real life. Hopefully his memories would surface. She felt it happening already with the handshake and the arguments. Maybe he did not recognise who she was to him, but the bond certainly did, and she knew he had felt it. It was frustrating to be so close to Trip and not be with him but she told herself to be patient. He was alive and well, and that was more than she thought was possible eight months ago. For now, that would have to be enough. She had finally found Trip. Her search was over, but the real work was just beginning. Convincing him of the truth was going to be difficult, but she had come this far already. She was determined not to lose him again.

******

Trip got up extra early the next morning. He had a feeling T’Pol was an early riser, and he didn’t want to be a bad host. At least that was the reason he told himself when he stepped into the shower. It had been another weird night. Ever since the accident eight months ago, he’d been having strange dreams that left him feeling unsettled in the morning. He never actually remembered what they were about; he just got the feeling that he was missing something important. It was like his brain was trying to tell him something, but he wasn’t able to connect the dots with his mind and come up with the message.

Last night was a little different though. He still couldn’t remember much of the dream’s contents, but this time it was like the fog had thinned, allowing him glimpses here and there. Not that it made any sense anyway. At one point he was dressed like a cowboy, riding a horse. There was someone on the horse behind him. A female he knew, by the way the curves of her body pressed against his back and the arms holding onto his upper body. Next he was jumping down from a warp core in some engine room with sparks flying everywhere. He had run across the room to protect someone from the explosions. Then he was shirtless and lying on his chest on the floor. His eyes were closed but he felt a pair of strong hands on his back giving him the most amazing massage. The fingers and palms were warm on his skin as they expertly moved across this back, applying the perfect amount of pressure to ease the stiffness. It felt wonderful and he didn’t want it to stop. He almost regretted waking up…almost.

The reason for the ‘almost’ was named T’Pol and he was getting a little concerned, not to mention confused, as to why he hadn’t wanted her to leave last night. He’d been with beautiful and smart women before but there was something about T’Pol that he found absolutely breathtaking. It wasn’t a physical reaction; okay, it wasn’t just a physical reaction. It was almost like she had some kind of hold on him that made him do everything possible to keep her close. That’s crazy he thought. He very likely was just imagining things.

Trip had originally come to the cabin to relax, but so far he had only been restlessly prowled the place, looking for things to fix. Her arrival had been a welcome distraction from certain…problems that were plaguing him recently. Maybe that was why he was so reluctant to see her go.

After getting out of the shower and getting dressed, Trip wasn’t surprised to find that T’Pol was already up. She was in the kitchen with her back to him when he arrived. Pausing at the doorway, he had this incredible urge to walk up behind her, wrap his arms around her waist and pull her against his chest. He wanted to murmur good morning to her as he traced the outer shell of her ear with his lips. The vision was so strong and clear in his mind that his nose and tongue could almost smell and taste her. At that moment, she turned around to face him, giving Trip only seconds to compose himself.

“Good morning,” he greeted her with a smile, mentally telling himself to get control of his baser desires and not to let his imagination run away from him.

T’Pol acknowledged his greeting with a nod. “Good morning. Would you like some coffee?” She indicated the fresh pot sitting on the counter.

“Sure. Thanks.” Walking over to get a cup he said, “You didn’t have to go the trouble of making me coffee. It’s not like we’re on Vulcan.” At her curious expression he explained, “I got the impression that guests at a Vulcan home are expected to make breakfast from, uh, from somewhere. That’s true right?”

“You are correct, but I assure you that it was no trouble. I made tea for myself.”

“Oh, well I hope you found everything you wanted. I don’t drink tea often so I don’t have much of a variety. All I have is camomile.”

“Everything was adequate.”

There was a lull in the conversation then. Looking out the window, Trip said the first thing that came to his mind. “So what are your plans for the day?” Trying to sound casual he added, “It looks like the snow turned to freezing rain last night. The roads should be pretty slick right now and they probably won’t get cleared until later this afternoon, maybe tomorrow even.” He squelched the rational part of his mind that was desperately trying to stop where this was heading. He wanted T’Pol to stay awhile longer. Although perturbed with his uncharacteristic behaviour with wanting a stranger for company, and a Vulcan no less, he told himself that it would only be for another day, two at the most. He just hoped that he wasn’t being too obvious.

“I have no engagements for the next few days. It would be illogical to jeopardise my safety for no reason. Perhaps if it is not too much of an inconvenience, I could stay here until the roads are in better condition,” she replied evenly.

“Great! I mean it’s not inconvenient at all and safety is…very important,” he finished a little lamely.

“Indeed” replied T’Pol before taking a sip of tea, and this time Trip was almost positive he saw amusement in her eyes.

Part 6

The morning turned out to be beautiful. It was too nice to stay indoors, so Trip suggested they go for a hike in the mountains. “It’s good exercise and the view is spectacular.”

“I do not have the proper equipment to go hiking in the snow.”

“Hmm, well maybe I can fix that.” He looked her up and down and headed to a closet, speaking over his shoulder, “My sister comes up to the cabin sometimes. She might have left something that fits you in here.”

After some rummaging he found some gear that fit her reasonably well and a short while later they headed up the mountain trail. They hiked for about an hour, with intermittent conversation. For most of the journey the only sounds were from either their boots crunching on the snow or the call of a bird overhead. Occasionally, Trip stopped to catch his breath, or point out and identify some animal tracks in the snow. The hike was quite pleasant.

After cresting the final ridge, they stopped to admire the vista laid out before them. Standing beside each other on the plateau, they were dwarfed by the majestic mountains surrounding them. Everything below them was covered in a sheet of pristine white. It was like the world was sleeping or waiting for something. The sky was a clear blue and the clouds seemed close enough to reach out and touch. The air was so crisp and clean that breathing it felt cleansing. It was peaceful, and neither one of them seemed inclined to break the silence that was almost meditative.

“So what do you think?” Trip finally asked after a long silence.

“The view is exquisite,” she replied while her eyes scanned the landscape below.

“You don’t say,” he murmured softly, gazing at her profile. She glanced over at him and he instantly turned his eyes back to the mountains. In a normal voice he said, “This is one of my favourite places to be. It’s where I go when I need to get away and clear my mind. When I’m up here my problems don’t seem like such a big deal anymore.”

“I am honoured you brought me here,” said T’Pol. While looking at the scenery, she continued in a neutral voice, “I have a similar place on Vulcan where I go when I need to find perspective.”

“Have you ever brought anyone there?” He asked hesitantly.

“Once. A long time ago,” she paused a bit, “it did not go well.”

He glanced at her briefly before asking in a gentle voice, “You think you’ll ever do it again?”

“Perhaps,” was her only response and with that they lapsed into another silence. This one remained intact until out of the corner of Trip’s eye he saw T’Pol shiver slightly, and he realised that she was cold. For the second time that day, he had to resist the urge to wrap his arms around her and pull her close. Instead he suggested they return to the cabin. She agreed, and they began their descent, but after a few metres he noticed that T’Pol had stopped.

Turning back he asked, “What is it?” Before she could answer though, a loud call echoed through the mountains, “rrrRRR-eeeEEE-UH-UH-UH-UH-uh!”

“That’s an elk’s bugle,” Trip identified when the sound stopped echoing. He continued down the path with T’Pol in step behind him. “During rutting season male elks bugle to advertise territory and attract mates.”

“What are elk?”

“Um, they’re part of the deer family, like moose or impala or…”

“Gazelles?”

“On a trip to East Africa I saw a gazelle giving birth…” Surprised by the sudden voice intruding in his head; Trip lost his footing and stumbled. He would have fallen if T’Pol hadn’t caught his arm. “Where did you learn about gazelles?” He blurted out as he was steadying himself.

“A friend mentioned them once. Are you injured?”

Realising that she was standing very close to him and still holding on to his arm, he extracted it immediately. “Me? Sure. Fine. The path’s a bit slippery, that’s all. Better be careful.” The tingly feeling had returned, spreading from his arm and down. Additionally, that weird feeling he’d woken up with that morning with was back, but this time he hadn’t been dreaming first. The voice that startled him was so familiar, but he just couldn’t place it. It was an elusive almost memory hovering at the edges of his consciousness which refused to be pulled forward. It was really starting to bug him, and almost falling off a mountain didn’t help. He started walking again.

Maybe T’Pol sensed his need to for silence because for the rest of the journey, she refrained from making any more comments about animals, deer-like or otherwise. Trip was grateful, and made sure he was very careful about where he stepped.

******

“Why don’t we watch a movie?” Trip suggested later that afternoon. He was still feeling unsettled from the hiking incident and wanted to distract himself. She looked sceptical, but he was persistent. “Come on, it’ll be great. Think of it as a study of human behaviour. We can have a sort of movie marathon.”

“I am unfamiliar with the term.”

“It’s when you watch a bunch of movies one after the other.”

“What would be the purpose of such an activity?”

Trip used his most charming smile on her, “To have fun of course.” She raised a single eyebrow-- that was all Trip needed as he happily went off to set up the projector.

Now the problem was what movies to pick. He wanted something that T’Pol would enjoy, well as much as a Vulcan could enjoy a movie, so horror was out. Half the fun of a horror movie was getting scared and he had this vague impression that Vulcans didn’t get frightened. If he were alone he would have put on ‘War of the Worlds’, but she probably wouldn’t appreciate an alien invasion movie. Well, he did sort of promise her a study of human behaviour…It took some thinking but Trip was finally satisfied with his movie selection. They wouldn’t have been his personal choices, but he was confident they would suit T’Pol. How Trip knew this he didn’t know, it just felt right, and he didn’t think it was important to question it further.

They started with the black and white version of ‘12 Angry Men’. T’Pol approved of the protagonist’s use of logic to convince the rest of the jury of the accused’s innocence. It showed that even the most irrational of men could be swayed by a logical argument. Trip countered that it was the protagonist’s passionate appeal to the other jurors that made them rethink their position. Besides, the most ‘logical’ man on the jury was one of the last to be convinced.

The debate of logic over emotion ended in a stalemate, with neither side giving up their position, so they moved on to view the next selection, ‘Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner.’

“The premise was intriguing,” T’Pol admitted when the credits began to roll. “There were some persuasive arguments in of favour of inter-racial marriages, but I find the conclusion unsatisfying and overly idealistic.”

“Maybe,” Trip conceded, “but sometimes a little fantasy can go a long way. The movie is supposed to be uplifting and lets people believe that even with a difficult road ahead it’s still possible to be with someone. Kind of like a ‘love conquers all’ scenario.”

“How is one supposed to study ‘human behaviour’ from unrealistic movies? Their union is illogical, and the difficulties they would face were not adequately addressed in the film.”

“Okay, maybe emotion overruled logic in this case and maybe the ending could be more realistic, but I think the message is about people getting over their prejudices. It’s about challenging your preconceptions so they won’t challenge you.” He paused. Perhaps he’d said that with too much feeling because he found T’Pol looking at him intently enough to make him squirm. He decided it was time to change the subject and watch the last movie.

‘Roman Holiday’ was a light-hearted romantic comedy that Trip thought would end the evening on a less controversial note. He also wondered if Vulcans could appreciate humour. After the movie ended, T’Pol did not speak for a long moment, and had a thoughtful look on her face. Trip was mildly surprised because he didn’t think it was an overly thought provoking movie. Maybe Vulcans didn’t understand romantic comedies?

The continued silence prompted Trip to speak up, “What do you think of the movie?”

Turning her head to look at him she said carefully, “Their relationship was…based on lies.”

Trip blinked. This was not what he was expecting, and for a moment was unsure how to respond. “I suppose so, but she had a good reason for not revealing her identity.”

“His reasons for concealment were not so honourable.”

“No, but he did the right thing in the end. His friend did too.”

“It is acceptable then to lie when there is a ‘good reason’ or when the correct decision is made at the end?”

“Well, when you put it that way…it’s not absolute and it depends on the person and the situation. In this case, I think she forgave him.”

“It is unlikely that either the ‘right thing’ or forgiveness would have occurred if they had not developed an emotional attachment. It seems like a rather arbitrary way of deciding matters.”

“Their falling in love was an accident, but that didn’t make their feelings for each other any less real. Love changes people and sometimes it inspires them to do things for the better.”

“They have no future together. Her life could not him involve him.”

“They had their moment together, and for some people that’s all they get. They know how the other person feels and even if it can’t work out it’s enough that they just know. We have a saying that ‘it’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all’.”

T’Pol thought for a moment before saying, “Then your previous assessment is not correct.”

“And that would be…?”

“Love does not conquer all.”

For the first time that night Trip had no ready response for her.

******

That evening, meditation was not restful for T’Pol, but it had not been for some time now and tonight was no exception. Although Trip still did not remember her, she was certain she was making progress, and that it was just a matter of time. She reminded herself of the need for patience. What she also needed was a good night’s sleep, so she concentrated harder, determined to put her scattered thoughts in order. She had almost achieved her goal when suddenly in her mind she heard Trip scream.

Part 7

Pain. Searing pain. Everything hurt. He couldn’t move and couldn’t see, but he could feel. He could feel the heat and the intense pain. Breathing, it hurt to breathe. It burned. In and out, it hurt so badly he didn’t want to breathe anymore, but he had to breathe or else he’d die and he wanted to die even less. He needed to live…for…for something. He couldn’t remember. It was hard to remember, hard to think because it hurt too damn much. It was hot, and he was burning and he knew he was dying but there was nothing he could do about it. Pain, so much pain, and with nothing left to do he screamed…

Just when Trip thought he couldn’t take it any more, that he would pass out from the pain, the heat changed. The burning sensation began to recede and was replaced with a gentler warmth that wrapped comfortingly around his body. It became a soothing balm that took away the pain and made him feel safe. Breathing no longer hurt. He could move again and his vision began to clear.

Gradually Trip woke up from his dream and became aware of his surroundings again. It was dark, he was in bed, and he wasn’t alone. T’Pol. She was at his side, kneeling while he was sitting up and leaning against her. His arms were wrapped tightly around her waist and his face was buried in her shoulder. Her left hand was gently stroking his hair while her right arm had slipped around to his back, holding him in place.

He breathed her in. Her skin smelled like a mixture of sweet exotic spices. It was feminine, alien, and utterly intoxicating. As the terror from the dream faded, his breathing had calmed, but now his pulse began to speed for an entirely different reason. She was pressed so close that underneath the silkiness of her pyjamas he could feel her body’s softness and warmth. Unable to resist, Trip lightly brushed his lips against the side of her neck. Her hand stilled and he froze, thinking that she would push him away, but she didn’t and instead tilted her head slightly to expose more of her lovely neck to him. Needing no further invitation he softly kissed his way to the base of her throat, savouring the taste of her skin on his tongue as her fingers tangled themselves in his hair. Shifting to get into a better position, his hands slid underneath her top and moved up the warm smoothness of her back. Applying more pressure with his lips, he was eagerly moving his kisses up the other side of her neck and was tracing her jaw line when a disapproving voice intruded in his head.

“Three days. You were only there for three days and you couldn’t restrain yourself.”

“I was a perfect gentleman the entire time” he indignantly countered the voice in his head.

“I imagine that’s a question of how you define ‘gentleman’.”

The words broke through his aroused, fogged mind like a splash of cold water. Gentleman. Under no definition of ‘gentleman’ did it include what he was currently doing and what he was about to do. Abruptly he released T’Pol and pushed himself away from her, breathing heavily. She opened her eyes and blinked at him as he stammered an apology. Before she could say anything, Trip untangled himself from the bed sheets, scrambled out of bed and bolted for the door.

******

In a quiet corner of the cabin Trip sat slouched in a chair and glumly stared out a frosted window as he waited for his body to calm down. The corner was a little chilly, but Trip welcomed the cold because it helped to clear his head and let him think, something he desperately needed to do right now.

What the hell was wrong with him? He wondered. The most beautiful and intelligent woman he had ever met had been in his arms—willingly in his arms, he added, and he had turned her down because he heard a voice in his head. He didn’t even know whose voice it was, but somehow he knew that that person’s opinion of him was important to him. I must be insane, he told himself, that’s the only explanation.

If he was being completely honest with himself though, was the voice really the only reason he stopped? Trip wasn’t opposed to the idea of casual sex, but when he slept with someone it usually meant a relationship. So was that what he was running from, a relationship with T’Pol? Whoa, he told himself. Don’t put the cart in front of the horse. He barely knew her and even if he wanted a relationship he would still need to know what she thought. Right now he suspected she didn’t think very much of him. Trip wasn’t sure how Vulcans reacted, but human a woman wouldn’t take kindly to being rejected in bed. What was she offering in there tonight though? Comfort from a nightmare? The beginning of a commitment? An exploration of human/Vulcan sexuality? Her motivations were a mystery to him. She was a puzzle, and as much as he enjoyed solving puzzles, his life was confusing enough without adding more problems.

The thing was, ever since his ‘recovery’ from the accident, Trip had been experiencing memory gaps, strange dreams, and restlessness. Now he could add hearing voices to the list. He had this nebulous feeling that something was wrong, but when he asked the doctors, they said that all scans indicated he was in good health. He tried to distract himself with work, but apparently he’d done too much too soon and suffered a collapse at the lab. Forrest had been upset and had given him the choice of taking a vacation or an extended stay in sickbay. Either way, he wasn’t going to be allowed back at work until he was one hundred per cent.

What Trip needed was to sort things out, not add more complications, and he had no doubt a relationship with T’Pol would be complicated on many levels. Besides, it wouldn’t be fair to drag her into his problems and he had no desire to be a burden to anyone. So what was he going to say to T’Pol the next time he saw her? Nothing sensible came to mind. With unhappy thoughts churning in his head, Trip eventually drifted off into a restless sleep, with only elusive dreams as his companion this time.

******

Trip woke up with a bright sun shining in his face and a stiff neck. Sometime in the night, a blanket had been tucked around his body. Considering his decidedly odd behaviour last night the gesture was thoughtful and touching. It only made what he was about to do harder. After a quick shower and a change of clothes, Trip found T’Pol seated at the kitchen table with a cup sitting in front of her.

“Morning,” he greeted with a slightly nervous smile.

Her even reply of “Commander” was all he got as Trip poured himself a cup of strong coffee and took the stool opposite her. Not wanting to delay anymore, he started with, “I guess we should talk about what happened last night.”

“You had a nightmare,” she stated matter-of-factly, before taking a sip from her cup.

“Well yes, but I mean what happened between us…after the dream.” At her raised eyebrow he continued, “I guess I’ll go first. I…” want to know what you’re thinking first, but Trip didn’t voice that thought. For some reason he didn’t think it would be a good idea. “…Guess I should apologise.”

“There is no need.”

“For taking advantage of the situation.”

“I am not sure I understand.”

“I was distraught when I woke up, you were trying to comfort me and…things got out of hand.”

“Are you saying what happened last night was a mistake?”

“I wouldn’t call it that.”

“But that is the general idea.” Her voice seemed to tense

Was she getting emotional? “I’m sorry if I offended you.”

“I believe you have already apologised. Perhaps it would be better if we forget the incident.”

This all seemed too easy, and despite his words, Trip was a little disappointed with the outcome. Out loud he said, “I agree. I’m glad we came an understanding and that this doesn’t change anything between us.”

“I see no reason for this to affect our current relationship,” T’Pol stated as Trip took a sip of coffee, “…for now” she finished, giving Trip a pointed look.

He hid his surprise in his cup and eyed her over the rim. For all the claims that Vulcans suppressed their emotions, the one sitting in front of him seemed a little too pleased with herself.

******

It was late morning, and Trip was idly mulling over the conversation he’d had with T’Pol as he lay on the couch with his hands clasped behind his head. As they were talking he’d had the strange feeling it wasn’t the first time he’d had that conversation, but Trip brushed that off as only his imagination. She was currently in her room upstairs. She had said that she needed to meditate. He was in the rec room downstairs, and what he was supposed to be doing was filling out reports. Unfortunately being on ‘vacation’ didn’t mean he could foist his paperwork off on someone else.

He couldn’t concentrate. He was still trying to decipher what T’Pol had meant in the kitchen earlier. They were going to be friends for now, but had she implied that they could be something more later? It seemed too good to be true. She seemed too good to be true. Maybe his luck was changing, Trip thought as he got up to turn on the computer. Maybe he shouldn’t keep poking at things until he found a flaw. He knew that was the smart thing to do, but as brilliant an engineer as Trip was, when it came to his personal life, he sometimes did things that were incredibly foolish.

An hour later Trip sat back from the computer screen with a dark and intense look on his face. Sometimes he hated being right. He should be angry he told himself, and he was, at least a part of him was, but mostly he was hurt, hurt and disappointed and betrayed and—

Thump, thump…Scratch, bang, CRASH!

What the hell was that! Trip thought, alarmed as he got up to investigate the ruckus. It sounded like a bunch of wild animals broke into the place. Running into the main room, he saw a flash of grey and white fur in his peripheral vision. The next thing he knew, he was flat on his back and his head was spinning from having impacted the floor. Sonofabitch. Are those wolves? Wild animals huh, sometimes he really hated being right. Feeling the back of his head he grimaced upon touching the bump that was beginning to form. Before he could start feeling sorry for himself though, Trip heard barking and weapons fire coming from upstairs. T’Pol! With a sense of urgency he staggered to his feet, discomfort forgotten, and sprinted for the stairs.

Part 8

It was fortunate that the evolution of Vulcans included the ability to sense approaching danger during meditation. After all, what good was emotional control and peace of mind if you were not alive to experience it? It was this awareness that snapped T’Pol out of her meditative state and put her on alert. Something was wrong she thought. A human probably would have waited for that something to show itself before taking action but fortunately, T’Pol was a Vulcan and was already halfway across the room by the time the first thump and crash was heard. Grabbing her phase pistol, her first thought was to find Trip and make sure he was unharmed. She would not get the chance though. At that moment the bedroom door burst open and half a dozen very large, vicious looking krin-tu-like creatures surrounded her.

Circling her slowly, they growled and snapped, searching for a weakness or an opening. T’Pol held her phase pistol ready, trying to keep an eye on all of them at once. Suddenly one of them charged her. She fired and it was immediately rendered motionless. The stand-off now broken, the remaining creatures all converged on her position to try to get a piece of her. Moving quickly, she fired. Once, twice, three times, but only managed to hit two more. The rest overwhelmed her and T’Pol went down hard. A sharp pain made her arm go numb. She dropped her weapon. Dodging teeth and claws, she managed to roll out of their reach. Crouched in front of the window, she was battered, bruised, and bleeding. There was no time to be concerned about it though. There were still three attackers to take care of and she was without a weapon.

They were on her again in an instant. T’Pol’s combat training kicked in. Using the first creature’s own momentum she threw it out the window behind her. This left her in a vulnerable position though, and before she could recover another beast was on her. Trying to keep its jaw away from her throat while at the same time eluding the other’s attempts to rip her limbs off, T’Pol was fighting a losing battle when unexpectedly her attacker stopped moving and went limp in her arms. Shoving it off her, she spotted Trip standing in the doorway holding her phase pistol. His eyes were wide as he took in her current state and the state of the room, but any relief that the ordeal was over was immediately dispelled when they heard howling coming from directly outside her window.

Without a word, he grabbed T’Pol’s less injured arm and hauled her to her feet. Together they ran out of the room and down the back stairs. They encountered two more beasts along the way, but with the phase pistol they were easily disposed of. They made it to the garage where Trip’s vehicle was parked. T’Pol climbed into the passenger seat while Trip took the driver’s side and remotely opened the garage door. Gunning the engine, they were out of the garage before the door was fully open, only to be met by more vicious creatures on the other side. Swerving abruptly to the left to avoid them, the ground car skidded. Swinging around wildly for a moment it seemed as if they would crash, but luck was on their side. Trip regained control just in time to narrowly avoid hitting the cabin and escaped down the snowy road.

******

The atmosphere in the vehicle was tense. As the adrenaline began to fade, T’Pol leaned back against the seat to rest her aching body. Turning her head to the side, she studied her companion’s profile. His jaw was set rigidly and his lips were pressed in a thin line. The expression on his face was grim. His knuckles were white from the tight grip he had on the car controls. Trip’s whole body radiated a discontent that seemed to go beyond the attack. She was not sure why though, and presently, she did not feel inclined to ask. She was not sure she would like the answer. He ignored her obvious scrutiny. In fact he seemed to ignore her presence altogether, focusing his entire attention on the road ahead.

She had no idea where they were headed, and she did not suppose it really mattered. Feeling uneasy but not knowing why, T’Pol looked out the window and watched the passing scenery. In her hand she clutched the node scanner. It was the only thing she had not left behind at the cabin. He had not questioned why she had stopped to take it. With the scanner and Trip beside her, T’Pol had everything she needed to return to the real universe. To be realistic though, that was unlikely to occur. She thought back to one of her conversations with the Watcher.

“People have this remarkable ability to see only what they want to see. They have notions of how things should be and are quite resistant to changes in that world view,” it had said. “Their minds can make up any excuse to deny something, regardless of the evidence indicating otherwise. If you don’t convince Trip that he isn’t where he belongs, he won’t able to see the passage. His mind won’t let him and he won’t be able to return to the ‘real’ universe.”

“Still in doubt of my authenticity?” It had asked, amused. T’Pol’s only response was a raised eyebrow. “Well let me put it this way, it’s a lot easier to ignore something that’s there than to make something out of nothing. Besides in this case, what do you have to lose?”

The car stopped, drawing T’Pol out of her reverie. She noted that Trip had pulled over to the side of the road. She watched him reach for a back compartment and procure a medical kit. He opened it, and after a moment of sorting through the contents, extracted a hypospray. Finally turning to her he lifted the hyprospray to her neck, giving her plenty of time to move away if she wished. She did not. Without a word he injected her with its contents. As the shot took effect, the sensation from her injuries dulled from painful to mildly uncomfortable. Still silent, Trip began to gently clean and bandage her wounds with the supplies from the kit, taking care not to jar her, even though with the painkillers she probably would not have felt anything anyway.

The silence between them grew thicker, to the point that it was almost unbearable. T’Pol wanted to say something, anything to break the tension, but her tongue was thick in her throat, and her jaw refused to co-operate. Her eyelids grew heavy. It was difficult to keep them open, and she was also having trouble focusing her thoughts. As T’Pol gradually slipped into unconsciousness, her last thought was that she should have asked Trip what was in the hypospray.

Part 9

T’Pol felt slightly disoriented when she opened her eyes. She found herself lying on an unfamiliar bed with no knowledge of where she was or how she had arrived there. The illumination from the window indicated that the sun was setting and it cast the room in early evening shadows. The sound of rustling made her start. Sitting up, she heard a low, harsh voice say, “Don’t you think it’s time you started telling me the truth?”

She saw Trip emerge from the shadows of the room, holding the node scanner in his hand. He put it down on a table nearby and fixed her with an intense stare. Caught unprepared, T’Pol said nothing. At her silence he impatiently demanded, “What did you really come to the cabin for?”

“I needed to find you,” she told him softly.

“Stop playing games,” he said sharply, “I checked your file. There is no T’Pol in the Vulcan Science Directorate. You’re part of the Vulcan Ministry of Security.” Raising his voice he continued, “Why are you spying on us? What do you want from me? Are we moving too fast again? Are we a threat to you?” he bit out angrily.

Looking deeply into his angry blue eyes, T’Pol saw the hurt and betrayal he felt underneath the furious words. It was time for confessions, but what if he did not believe her and turned his back on her?

She would lose him again and this time it might be forever.

Getting out of the bed, she walked slowly towards him, never breaking eye contact, and stopped half an arm length away. “You are correct in part,” she said carefully. “I am not a member of the Science Directorate, but I also do not work for the Ministry of Security, and I am not a spy. I have not been completely honest with you because I was uncertain whether you would accept the truth until I gained your confidence.”

“You thought lying was the way to go?” Trip asked in disbelief.

Her response was wistful, “I had a good reason and hoped you would be forgiving.”

A twitch of his lips was the only sign he remembered their movie night discussion. Some of the tension was dispelled, but he did not relent in his demand for answers. “Tell me the truth now.”

Taking a deep breath, she began, “I am a Starfleet Commander from an alternate universe. I have come here to retrieve a fellow officer who was taken from my universe eight months ago in an explosion. He has no memory of the incident and has been conditioned into believing that his current life is his real one. His displacement has caused problems in the universe that will result in its destruction if he is not returned to his proper place.” She stopped and waited for his response.

Trip stared at her speechless for a long time. He searched her face, probably looking for a sign that her preposterous story was some sort of joke. If he was disappointed that she was totally serious, he did not say so. Finally, looking back into her eyes he said, “Prove it.”

She thought for a moment. Proving her story was going to be difficult, but she had come this far already and he had not dismissed her yet. Perhaps it was time to do as the human expression says and ‘go for broke’. She stepped forward a bit, lifted her right hand, and reached for Trip’s face. He flinched when he realised what she was doing, and that made her pause, hand hovering questioningly in the air. He darted his eyes from her hand to her face, considering. When he stilled and made no attempt to move away from her she took it as a sign of permission and touched his face gently with her fingertips. He closed his eyes as she caressed his cheek and felt him shiver. His breathing became somewhat ragged when she slipped her hand to the back of his neck. Leaning forward, T’Pol slowly brought his head down to her until their lips brushed with the softest and lightest of kisses. She felt a spark between them. Parting slightly, they were both a little breathless from the brief contact. Unbidden, his hands had found their way to her hips and were now resting there lightly. Their lips met again, but this time it was Trip who initiated the kiss. Softly and tenderly, he was treating her kisses like a precious gift that needed to be cherished.

Encouraged by his response, T’Pol knew it was now or never. For the first time in eight months she dropped her mental shields, opened her link to Trip, and gave herself over to him. She felt him gasp into her mouth as her memories flooded his consciousness, but instead of pulling away from the onslaught, he tugged her closer, pressing their bodies together and deepening the kiss. He was like a starving man with a feast laid out before him. Her memories were the sustenance and he was devouring every morsel as fast as possible, lest the meal be snatched away unceremoniously. Lost in sensation, she became his anchor in the storm that grounded him and kept him from being swept away. Gradually, his mind was able to sort though all the images, sounds, thoughts, and emotions she was sending. Through her recollections Trip began to remember his ‘real’ life and rediscovered the T’Pol he had met many years ago…

…I'm called Trip…Join me if you'd like…It's very relevant…If you're wearing that to impress the women…Good ears…If we were pursuing a romantic relationship…I'm always up for a challenge…You're implying that I'm attracted to you…I envy you Vulcans…I'm grateful that you're here…Romeo and Juliet probably stood a better chance…Even the most disagreeable species…If a Vulcan and a human ever decided to have a child it'd probably be okay…

She showed him the price they’d paid by having a secret relationship. Parted but never parted, the bond helped to connect and sustain them, allowing them to be together without fear of discovery. The decommissioning of Enterprise was a chance for them to slip away from the public eye and have their names fade to obscurity, but his ‘death’ had spoiled even the best laid plans. Enduring the distress of a secret relationship for six years paled in comparison to the pain she’d felt at the loss of her bondmate. T’Pol had retreated from her friends, Starfleet, exploration, and anything else that reminded her of him. In the intervening seven months she had learned to live without him, but found very little interest in what her future held.

A month ago, everything changed. A dream, a stranger, a theory, and a hope were all that prompted T’Pol to embark on a very illogical and improbable journey. Eventually it had brought her to him, to this moment in time. She was in his arms and sharing her most intimate thoughts and feelings, but although her journey was now over, how it would end was still uncertain and out of her control.

When T’Pol became cognisant of herself again she found her back being pressed into the mattress by Trip’s weight on top of her. Sometime in their journey to the bed they had also lost their clothing. Kissing deeply and hungrily, all their inhibitions were stripped away, leaving them drowning in mutual desire. Careful not to aggravate her injuries, Trip moved down her body leisurely, leaving a trail of wet kisses in his wake. With his hands, lips, and tongue he seemed determined to explore every line and curve of her body as intimately as he had explored her mind. T’Pol revelled in his touch, kissing every inch of his skin she could reach, but it was not enough. She wanted more of him. As if reading her thoughts, he moved back up her body and captured her mouth in another deep and probing kiss.

Their joining was burning with passion, heightened by their recent meeting of the minds. Together their bodies moved, finding a rhythm that slowly built in ardour and intensity. Higher and faster they soared until the bed, the room, the whole world fell away and all that mattered was each other. Bathed in a pure white light they frantically drove towards a completion that held the promise of untold ecstasy. They climaxed at the same time, crying out their pleasure and when it happened, their world burst into a thousand different colours. Clinging to each other and riding out the waves of pleasure, they saw and felt each colour as it passed. There was the yellow of happiness, calmness of blue, red passion, intelligence of purple, orange joy, freshness of green, and so many more. Dancing and swirling, glowing and fading. It was all there because it was all theirs. A colour and shade for every emotion, they combined to create meaning and beauty.

Still joined in mind and body and breathing heavily from their exertions, an image rose from the recesses of their minds. Two threads of different colour, texture, and design were coming together and entwining themselves into one single thread. The differences only served to enhance the other’s beauty and weaknesses were compensated for. As one, these two threads of dissimilar origin were stronger, more beautiful, and virtually unbreakable.

******

Trip lay on his back, staring at the darkened ceiling overhead. He was thinking. There was a lot to think about. Physically he felt so utterly relaxed he couldn’t move, not that he had any intention of moving if he were able to anyway. With T’Pol peacefully asleep in his arms, he wouldn’t have moved for the world. Her head was pillowed on his shoulder and her hand rested on his chest, right above his heart, feeling its steady beat. It seemed that even in sleep she grasped for reassurances that he was still alive and with her.

The past twenty-four hours felt surreal. In less than a day he had survived a wolf attack, discovered T’Pol was from an alternate universe and had the most mind-blowing and intense lovemaking session ever. It had been eventful to say the least. Thanks to T’Pol, his lost memories were coming back bit by bit, but could he really trust these memories any more that than the previous ones? He had the memories of two different lives in his head. Will the ‘real’ one please stand up?

If he was displaced from an alternate universe, why had they taken him? What purpose did it serve? What about the wolf attack? From what he could tell, T’Pol knew nothing about it. Was it just a coincidence it happened when it did or was something more sinister going on? At his side, T’Pol stirred in her sleep as if his distress had disturbed her. Maybe it had, he thought, and made an effort to calm his troubled mind. Gently he stroked his fingers along her warm skin in a soothing fashion until she settled against him again. He knew that what T’Pol had given him tonight was more than just sharing. She had given him everything that she was, first her mind and soul, and then her body. She had trusted him not to let her down or break her. He now had a decision to make. T’Pol had told the truth as she knew it, but was it ‘the’ truth? Did he trust her enough to abandon everything he had now and chase what might be just a fantasy? Right now, at this moment, he didn’t know, and knew he wouldn’t come up with any answers by staring at a darkened ceiling. Hoping that things would look better in the morning, he closed his eyes to try to get some rest. T’Pol shifted slightly in her sleep and whether she was trying to get closer to him or was attempting to maximise their skin-to-skin contact he wasn’t sure. Either way it made him smile, and that was how Trip fell asleep.

Part 10

For the second time in two days, T’Pol woke up alone in the same bed feeling disoriented. This time she was naked though. Sitting up she looked around the room in daylight and surmised that she was in Trip’s apartment. His scent permeated the place and glancing out the window, T’Pol recognised the San Francisco skyline and knew she was not very far from Starfleet Headquarters. Spotting a robe draped on a bedpost, she got up from under the covers and slipped it on, belting it at the waist. It was too big and too long for her, but it was soft to the touch and smelled faintly of Trip’s unique scent. Illogically, she found it comforting.

Not sure what to do next, T’Pol looked around the room again and found their clothing of last night in a pile on the floor. At least, what was left of their clothing. In their haste, they had apparently foregone the use of buttons and zippers and had used the quickest and most direct way possible to undress each other. Thinking about last night made her face flush slightly with guilty pleasure. She had not known if using the bond to share her memories with Trip would work and had not intended for it to have ended the way it did. Is that why he left this morning? she wondered, a little concerned. Did he have regrets about what happened between them?

Her contemplation was interrupted by footsteps approaching the other side of the closed door. Suddenly she was not sure whether she wanted to see him just yet. She knew it was foolish, but she could not stop the apprehension that made her pulse beat faster. The door opened, and Trip stopped at the doorway, looking as uncertain as she felt. She stood rooted in the middle of the room, and for a long moment they gazed at each other silently.

It seemed that they would have remained frozen in place and not speaking indefinitely, but the sudden loud squawking of a bird from outside the window made them both start, finally propelling them into action. Walking towards her, Trip stopped centimetres from her and lifted a hand to brush a stray lock of hair from her eyes. He rested his palm on her cheek, and she could feel his breath on her face when he said in a soft voice that was a little breathless, “I, uh, made us some breakfast but I guess we should…”

“Talk first” she finished just as softly.

Guiding her over to the bed, they sat down side-by-side on its edge. Clearing his throat, Trip was staring at the opposite wall when he a little nervously began, “I’ve been thinking a lot about what happened last night and…well, I’m not sure what to think, really.”

Studying his profile, T’Pol asked seriously, “Do you believe me?”

He turned his head and looked directly into her eyes. It felt like he was trying to see into her soul, and perhaps that was where he found his answers because after a moment he said, “Yeah, I do.”

She let out the breath she had not realised she was holding and inquired tentatively, “Where does that leave us now?”

His gazed slipped away from her as he replied, “I’m not entirely sure, but ever since waking up from my ‘accident’ I’ve been having dreams that I couldn’t remember when I woke up. It was like the memories were written in mist and that whenever I tried to catch one it would slip through my fingers. Last night, I finally discovered what my dreams were trying to tell me. It was like by sharing your memories you triggered mine. I saw a whole different life, everything you showed me and more.” He paused, as if gathering his thoughts, “I’ve known for some time now that something was wrong with me. It felt like something important was missing, I just had no idea what it was.” He looked into her eyes again, “Then you came into my life and I found out it was you.” Reaching out he took one of her hands in his. “When we were…together, I felt the truth in your thoughts. I know how you feel about me, and I know how I feel about you. I love you, and this is very real.”

T’Pol felt tears prickling at the back of her eyes and struggled for control. She had her Trip again. Overcome with relief and moved by his confession she lost the ability to speak. She turned her face away so he would not see her lack of composure but apparently he was having none of that and pulled her into an embrace. She closed her eyes and rested her head against his shoulder, breathing in his scent and listening to his murmured reassurances that he loved her and she wouldn’t lose him again.

They fell into a comfortable silence for a while until T’Pol, needing a final confirmation, asked, “You believe my memories and take them as truth even when they appear to be impossible?”

“Hmm…sure, I trust you.” More lightly he added, “Besides, when I saw into your mind I learned that you didn’t have the imagination or the creativity to make up such an insane story.” Her eyes snapped open and she pulled out of his embrace, giving him her most offended glare, but this only made him laugh. “Oh, come on T’Pol! Where’s your sense of humour?”

It had been such a long time since she had heard him laugh that she could not stay put off with him even though she tried. “Vulcans do not have a sense of humour” she stated as indignantly as possible.

“Sure you do. You just hide it under that Vulcan mask of yours.” He pulled her close to him and said softly in her ear, “But I know you and I can see right through it.” Pulling back slightly he kissed her on the lips, tenderly at first but it quickly grew in intensity.

Breaking the kiss, T’Pol spoke huskily millimetres from his mouth, “We should have breakfast before it gets cold.”
“Breakfast can wait,” he said in a thick voice and tried to kiss her again.

She moved back and wrinkled her nose. “Is something burning?”

“What!?” Dropping her in an instant he raced out of the room. Getting up from the bed herself, T’Pol smoothed out the robe as she walked to bedroom door. She leaned against the doorframe and waited for him with her arms crossed. He returned momentarily at a more sedate pace. “Nothing’s burning,” he told her, looking confused.

She gave him her most innocent look. “My mistake then. I apologise.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, “That was payback for calling you unimaginative and uncreative, wasn’t it?”

“I am sure I do not know what you are referring to.” She turned to go back into the room. “Vulcans do not exact ‘payback,” she said over her shoulder.

She felt his arms go around her waist from behind. “Humans do,” he said as he pulled her against him. “I’m going to get you for that,” he promised, kissing her ear. And so he did. By the time they ate breakfast it was cold, but neither of them seemed to mind.

Part 11

Once Trip had made the decision to go back to the ‘real’ universe with T’Pol, there really was not a lot that had to be done. They just needed to find out when and where to be for the next node passage. She showed him the scanner and explained its operation to him. Fascinated by the device, Trip looked like he wanted to take it apart to discover its modifications and see how it worked. T’Pol, deciding that it would be better for it to remain intact, kept the scanner away from him. Instead, she sent him off to acquire some appropriate clothing for her to wear. She informed him that under no uncertain terms was she leaving his apartment dressed only in a bathrobe.

T’Pol was in the bedroom changing when the doorbell rang. She listened with half an ear while Trip answered the door and greeted the visitor in a pleasant, but surprised tone of voice. Inspecting her clothes, T’Pol was satisfied that Trip had brought her clothing in the colours she had specified. As much as she trusted him with her life and emotional well being, she was not ready to trust his sense of style in clothes. Earlier, she’d even told him as much…

“I thought you liked the way I dressed,” Trip had teased.

He had laughed at her answer. Calling her a ‘stubborn Vulcan’, he kissed her on the forehead before leaving to pick-up her requests.

T’Pol had to admit she took immense pleasure in his laughter and happiness, especially when she was the one who inspired the emotions.

T’Pol was in the middle of buttoning the front of her shirt when suddenly she jerked her head up. She heard Trip’s exclamation, followed by the thump of something heavy hitting the floor. She ran into the other room. Trip was lying on the floor, motionless. She saw movement in her peripheral vision, and something reflecting light. Her body was diving for cover before her brain knew what was happening. The beam hit the wall where her head had been a moment ago.

Her thoughts went to Trip. Was he injured? Dead? She felt growing panic at the thought, but she pushed it aside. Now was not the time to indulge in emotions. Peeking out from her cover, she was met with a volley of shots and quickly ducked again. There was only one individual firing she noted, and he was not a skilled marksman, but T’Pol was unarmed. To disarm her attacker she needed to get around him. Picturing the layout of the apartment in her head, she kept herself low and stealthily moved herself behind the cover of the sofa.

Working quickly, she manoeuvred herself in position behind her attacker. About to disable him, she realised that ‘he’ was actually a ‘she’, and that ‘she’ had heard T’Pol. Her attacker whipped around to fire. T’Pol caught her first good look at the woman, and found herself staring into the face of Admiral Forrest’s wife.

Why was Miranda Forrest shooting at her? Even as she thought that, T’Pol had already dropped to the floor. The shot went over her head. There was no cover to hide behind and no time to think. In desperation, T’Pol lunged, grabbed her attacker’s ankles, and pulled. Surprised and off-balance, the woman gave a strangled cry as she crashed to the floor, her weapon skidding across the room. Pressing her advantage, T’Pol jumped on her attacker and pinned her to the floor. Miranda Forrest struggled violently, but it was no use against T’Pol’s Vulcan strength.

“Why are you attacking us?” T’Pol demanded, speaking directly into the woman’s face. Miranda’s only response was a frustrated growl as she struggled harder. Any more struggling and T’Pol thought she might break the woman’s wrists. Realising that no answers would be forthcoming, and feeling a strong urge to check on Trip’s condition, T’Pol moved to nerve-pinch the woman. As she did, one of her attacker’s hands escaped from T’Pol’s grip and grabbed onto the Vulcan’s face. In the next instant T’Pol lost consciousness.

******

T’Pol found herself in a dilapidated garden that was encased by four high walls and a rusted-over iron gate. On the walls were dense thickets of some climbing plant that was devoid of any leaves or flowers and hung like empty skeletons. T’Pol was standing in a small gazebo. The nearby trees were also bare of leaves, and their trunks were scored by deep gashes in several places. The ground was covered with aged and brittle leaves and a few patches of brown grass that were scattered about. The condition of the soil was so inhospitable not even weeds grew successfully. Looking around she saw a dried pond, some cracked arches and an empty fountain lying on its side. They were all covered in dead vines.

Huddled on the floor of the structure was Miranda Forrest. She had her knees drawn up and her arms were clasped tightly around them. No longer the angry woman who had fought T’Pol earlier, this person in front of her looked lost and afraid.

T’Pol’s attention was suddenly drawn to the far end of the garden where she detected raised voices. Peering outside, she saw two individuals in apparent argument. She recognised one as the Watcher she had met in her dreams. The other was unfamiliar, but the vocal inflections sounded gender neutral, and T’Pol presumed it was another Watcher. She listened in on their conversation.

“You’re violating the terms of your existence!” the First Watcher exclaimed.

“I’m saving my husband,” the Second Watcher replied.

“He’s not your husband! Forrest died in the ‘real’ universe. Prolonging this one by taking lives and displacing people isn’t going to bring him back. You can’t do this.”

“Can’t I? I can move people from different universes, I can erase someone’s memory, I can make wolves attack, and I can take control of a latent telepath. It’s clear that I can do this.

“We’re Watchers, we ‘watch’. We don’t fall in love, and we don’t interfere with the events of the universe.”

“Why should I limit myself and be just a Watcher when I can do so much more? You’ve interfered with events. You’re no different than I am.”

“What I did was completely different. I did it to fix the Tapestry, you did it because of some misguided and delusional obsession with a man who doesn’t even know you exist.”

“But he will continue to exist. That’s all that matters.”

“No, the fabric of the universe is what matters, and you’re destroying it. You need to be stopped.”

“By whom? The Vulcan? She has no power here and will be dead soon anyway. If you try to stop me, I’ll kill you too.”

The verbal altercation continued for a little bit longer before it turned physical. T’Pol found out that they had the ability to shift from one form to the next. Using claws, hands, teeth, and horns, they were ferociously battling each other, each trying to gain the upper hand. From what T’Pol could see of it, ‘First’ was losing. Ducking back into the structure to remain out of sight, T’Pol frantically searched her mind for a way to neutralise ‘Second’. Looking down at the scared woman huddled on the floor, she suddenly had a thought. It might be true that T’Pol herself had no power here but they were in Miranda Forrest’s mind, so what if…

T’Pol crouched down in front of the woman. She tried to shrink away from T’Pol but the wall was at her back and she had nowhere to go. There was no time for niceties. T’Pol took the woman’s arm in a firm enough grip that she looked up at T’Pol in fear. Speaking as gently as she could, but with a sense of urgency nonetheless, T’Pol implored, “Miranda, you have to try to stop the being that is controlling you.”

“I can’t,” she whispered in a small voice. “It’s too strong.”

“This is your mind. You are the one who decides what does and does not happen,” T’Pol stated firmly.

“It said it would hurt him if I tried.”

“If you do not try, a lot of people will be hurt, not just the Admiral,” T’Pol countered, but the woman only shook her head and squeezed her eyes closed.

T’Pol needed a different tactic. Looking around the desolate garden she came up with an idea. “Where are we?” She asked abruptly. Opening her eyes, Miranda looked at T’Pol without comprehension. “Whose garden is this?” T’Pol clarified.

“My mother’s.”

“Is this how your mother kept her garden?” asked T’Pol, gesturing at their surroundings. Miranda shook her head to indicate the negative. “Describe it for me then.” The woman looked so uncertain that T’Pol decided she needed more encouragement. “What is the name of that tree?” She pointed to one that was close-by.

“A Carolina silverbell.”

“Does it flower?”

“Yes.” She halted, but with T’Pol’s nod of interest she continued. “White…White flowers in spring, and dark green leaves in summer.” Her voice got a little braver, “They turn yellow and fall very early in autumn. At the end of autumn there are fruits in capsules that look like wings. The bark is multicoloured, ridged, and furrowed.”

“Tell me about the plants,” T’Pol asked next. And Miranda did. Climbing roses, lush green grass, orchids, a cherry tree. As she spoke of each one, the woman’s demeanor gained confidence. Eventually she unfurled herself and sat comfortably on the floor, describing to T’Pol the colours, fragrances, and textures of her mother’s garden. Gradually their surroundings changed. The desolation began to fade and the garden started to grow and flourish, returning to it former glory. It’s working, T’Pol thought. Miranda was taking control of her mind again.

A sudden scream of outrage interrupted Mirranda’s increasingly vivid descriptions. ‘Second’ had probably noticed the change of scenery and was likely looking for them. “Stay here and keep thinking about your mother’s garden” said T’Pol. “I’ll distract it.”

Leaving their hiding place quietly, T’Pol stayed low to the ground and scanned the area, trying to locate ‘Second’. She spotted ‘First’ lying on the ground, unmoving. She went to it, unsure how she was going to check the vitals of a non-corporeal being that was in someone’s mind. Unfortunately, the question would remain unanswered. Before T’Pol got to ‘First’, she heard a noise behind her. Spinning around, she only had time to see ‘Second’ charging her before she was hit. Her world went black.

Part 12

The darkness was absolute. Thick and pervading it seeped into every orifice of her body and clung to the outside of her skin. Fear. Panic. Despair. Hopelessness bored into her soul. She had nowhere to run because there was nowhere to run to. The darkness engulfed her and there was no escaping its oppression. Fear. Panic. Despair. There was nothing to strike out at and no one to hear her scream. Her heart raced. This was the End. Fear. Panic. Despair. She curled up into a tight ball on the floor and waited for the inevitable.

Out of the darkness came a voice. “T’Pol!”

“Trip?” She lifted her head. A glimmer of life flickered.

“T’Pol! Where are you?”

“Here!” She called out hopefully. “I am here Trip.” She waited, but there was no response. “Trip! Come back,” she pleaded…Nothing. “Please,” she whispered, her voice breaking, “please, come back.” But it did not return. Darkness closed in and she lay her head back down. Trip would not find her. He had abandoned her to the darkness. The despair returned.

“T’Pol?” His voice floated softly to her ears, but she ignored it. Something brushed her arm, “T’Pol. I’m here. Look up T’Pol, I’m here. I won’t leave you, I promise.” The voice’s persistence finally induced her to lift her head again. She looked up…and up. High up in the distance she saw a pinprick of light that broke through the darkness.

“It is too far,” she said in defeat. “I cannot reach you.”

“Yes you can. Look around you” he insisted.

She looked, but saw only darkness. She was about to say so when suddenly it appeared…Stairs. A long spiralling staircase that went up further than she could see.

“Do you see it T’Pol?” He asked excitedly. “I’m right up here.”

“I see it,” she whispered. Running to the staircase she began to climb. Five, ten, fifteen…Her legs started to ache. Seventy, eighty, ninety…Her lungs started to burn. One hundred and thirty, one hundred and forty…She became light-headed. Two hundred, two hundred and twenty…She stumbled, but an invisible grip caught her arm, preventing her from falling. She regained her footing and kept going. Three hundred and fifty, four hundred…Round and round she went, higher and higher until the pinprick of light got bigger and brighter. She could finally see that the light was blue, gloriously shining down on her and guiding her back to life. Five hundred, six hundred…

******

Gasping, T’Pol opened her eyes and found herself staring into an extremely worried pair of beautiful blue eyes. “Are you all right?” Trip asked anxiously. He helped her sit up and she looked around the ruined apartment, still breathing heavily and trying to collect herself. “T’Pol?” She turned back to him and abruptly threw her arms around his shoulders, burying her face into his neck. He grunted from the force of the unexpected embrace, but his only response was to wrap his arms around her tightly.

“Are you all right?” He asked again.

“I am now,” she replied.

******

Trip stared at the node passage as it shimmered faintly in the cool San Francisco night air. Practically invisible, it was unassuming and easily missed if you didn’t know what to look for. Considering everything they’d went through to get to this point, this seemed like a rather anti-climactic end. Not that he was expecting fireworks or fanfare, but the romantic in him thought that there should be something more to mark the occasion. He wisely kept such thoughts to himself and reflected on the events of the last couple of hours.

After Miranda Forrest had woken up, she had told them what little she knew of what happened to her. About a year before, she’d been in an accident that put her in a coma. A being had come to her in her dreams, and had trapped her consciousness in the garden. She could feel what was going on outside her body but she couldn’t see or change anything and she couldn’t call for help. The being had controlled her completely. After apologising for the attack, she then thanked T’Pol profusely for her assistance in freeing her.

T’Pol in turn had told very little of her own story, and feigned ignorance about the being’s purpose. She also did not mention that they were from an alternate universe. Trip had no idea that she was such a good liar, and had wondered what else she could be keeping from him, when he’d received a brief burst of annoyance from her. He had belatedly remembered that being bonded had its drawbacks. If Miranda did not believe T’Pol’s story she did not press, and seemed to be relieved that the nightmare she’d suffered was over.

Since these events, T’Pol had had no contact with any Watchers. Although she was uncertain of either of their fates, as far as she could tell him, returning to the ‘real’ universe would stop the damage to the Tapestry. The alternate universes affected the fabric of time, but only displacements from the ‘real’ one caused holes.

It was nice to be important, but at the same time, he couldn’t help feeling bad for the Trip who had died. T’Pol’s assurances that the ‘other’ Trip’s injuries were too severe to have survived in either universe did little to assuage the guilt he felt for surviving. It was sort of like feeling sorry for himself, except that he wasn’t…really. To make things better he had left a note to ‘his’ parents. He hadn’t mentioned going to another universe, but he did say that he had to go away and probably wouldn’t be seeing them again. He’d told them not to worry about him, and that he loved them. It wasn’t ‘the’ truth, but it was true enough, and he believed that the ‘other’ Trip would have approved.

Now, standing here with T’Pol beside him, he thought of himself as pretty lucky. The angel of death had come for him, but once again, it had been forced to wait another day. On the other side of that passage lay difficult questions and an uncertain future, yet, he felt no fear. He knew that he wouldn’t be facing any of it alone. T’Pol had given herself completely to him and he would do no less for her.

The moment had come. It was time to go.

T’Pol looked over at him, “Ready?” She asked.

He smiled at her, “Whenever you are,” and reached for her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. She gave him a slight nod in return, and as one they turned to face the passage. As they stepped through the portal, the reality of it suddenly hit Trip. They were finally going home…together.

The End

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A whole mess of folks have made comments

Fascinating...a very unique resolution, one that I would not have come up with but actually works well in the Star Trek universe. I really enjoyed this and especially liked your response to the "ending" of the TnT relationship prior to The Abomination. Excellent job!

Glad to see it up and posted! Great story!

:)

I agree, fantastic story!

A very unusual and unique storyline. I enjoyed reading it.

Yay! It's finally here. I loved being able to have a preview of this story. Thoroughly enjoyable!

mmm. i'm a sucker for alternate universe stories. and really, this was the sweetest love story, also. good job!!!!

Very interestin Idea usin a Multie Verse To explain what happenedto Trip,,,,,, I also Like that while we an Trip knew what T'pol was thinkin feelin,,, Ya still kept her in Vulcan character an let her keep thigs inside for Only the importnat ones to see,,,T'pol bein T'pol is always important. :),,,,,, I cant help but think that how T'pol was alive,, but dead in the inside with out Trip is what T'pol was really like in that poor excuse for a Finalie.,,,,,,,,, Great Story I just loved the joy an relief that Both TnT had once they really found each other,,,,,,, I hope ya keep writin. Wonderful story.

I'm with Misplaced. I felt priviledged to get a preview. Makes me feel all warm inside to get a happy ending. : ))

Interesting. Good job, it was well written! :)

an interesting idea, i enjoyed reading it.

Great story- very nicely done.

I was a bit unsure at first, but ended up loving it. A great read.

I was a bit unsure at first, but ended up loving it. A great read.

Wonderful story! That the ending that should have been used ,I love happpy Ending!!!!!!

Wonderful story! That the ending that should have been used ,I love happpy Ending!!!!!!

Wonderful story! That the ending that should have been used ,I love happpy Ending!!!!!!

Best fixer I read so far, trip and T'POL FOREVER

Wonderful story! That the ending that should have been used ,I love happpy Ending!!!!!!

Best fixer I read so far, trip and T'POL FOREVER

Any chance of getting a sequel?

What a great concept! I enjoyed this story very much! :)

I was a bit confused about Watcher #2 and Miranda - which one was Forrest's real wife?

Thanks everyone for the comments. :D

DAK: Miranda is Forrest's real wife. Up until the 'garden' scene, Miranda's 'consciousness' is trapped, and her body is being controlled by Watcher #2. Hope that made sense. :)

KUgirl: Umm, I've toyed with the idea, but unless the muse graces me with another interesting plot, I don't think I'll have anything to add to the story. Of course, you never can tell what the muse will tell you to do next...

Thanks everyone for the comments. :D

DAK: Miranda is Forrest's real wife. Up until the 'garden' scene, Miranda's 'consciousness' is trapped, and her body is being controlled by Watcher #2. Hope that made sense. :)

KUgirl: Umm, I've toyed with the idea, but unless the muse graces me with another interesting plot, I don't think I'll have anything to add to the story. Of course, you never can tell what the muse will tell you to do next...

To Llewella: Why did Watcher #2 want to save Forrest so badly then? Why did #2 refer to Forrest as "my husband"? Sorry if I'm being dense. :)

To Dak: No, you're not being dense, it's a good question.

In the prologue, I describe Watchers as impartial observers who do not interfere with the events of the universe. However, at the end of the that section, I pose the question of Watchers who do more than just 'watch'. This is what happens to 'Second'.

'Second' got too involved with one person's fate (Forrest). When he started to disapear from the alternate universes (the 'real' Forrest being dead), it decided to play 'creater' instead of 'watcher'.

'First' calls 'Second' obessesd and delusional in their confrontation in the 'garden'. 'First' is correct. ;) What I had intended to convey in that dialogue was that 'Second' was in love with Forrest and wanted to be his wife. It believed that by taking over Miranda's body and stealing her life, this would come true.

This probably isn't a very good reason to destroy the universe, but I did imply that 'Second' was kind of crazy. :D

Hope that clears up the confusion. Feel free to ask more questions if its not.

(BTW, I clicked 'post' once last time and my comments posted twice. I hope it doesn't happen again, but if it does, sorry.)

To Dak: No, you're not being dense, it's a good question.

In the prologue, I describe Watchers as impartial observers who do not interfere with the events of the universe. However, at the end of the that section, I pose the question of Watchers who do more than just 'watch'. This is what happens to 'Second'.

'Second' got too involved with one person's fate (Forrest). When he started to disapear from the alternate universes (the 'real' Forrest being dead), it decided to play 'creater' instead of 'watcher'.

'First' calls 'Second' obessesd and delusional in their confrontation in the 'garden'. 'First' is correct. ;) What I had intended to convey in that dialogue was that 'Second' was in love with Forrest and wanted to be his wife. It believed that by taking over Miranda's body and stealing her life, this would come true.

This probably isn't a very good reason to destroy the universe, but I did imply that 'Second' was kind of crazy. :D

Hope that clears up the confusion. Feel free to ask more questions if its not.

(BTW, I clicked 'post' once last time and my comments posted twice. I hope it doesn't happen again, but if it does, sorry.)

Thanks Llewella! I understand now. :)