Clarity - Ch 3

Clarity

By: Ludjin

Disclaimer and most other info: See chapter one.
Rating: R (language and adult themes)
Genre: MU, Trip/T'Pol
Author’s Notes: Well, this took me forever to make. I’m so sorry for the wait! Many thanks to everyone who has said such kind things about this fic. You’ve been more than an inspiration. E, T’Leela, HopefulRomantic, you three rock. Thank you for repeatedly kicking my butt, and then slaving away as betas.

Also, some of the shuttle technology isn’t quite … canonical. I used one of the shuttle-types from a TOS movie, gave it warp drive, and let the Defiant have the prototype. In case anyone really wonders why it’s not an ion-drive.

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Chapter Three

An angry hand slammed against a wall.

T'Pol spun around, her breathing ragged, any illusion of calm shattered.

Tucker stood naked, framed by the aft cabin’s doorway. Fury darkened his face, tensed his muscles, radiated off of him in almost tangible waves. She knew she shouldn’t feel fear – especially when faced with a human – but in that moment, for reasons she couldn’t quite understand, she was afraid of him.

He took a measured step toward her; she stepped back, only to find herself against the wall.

“What the hell is your problem?” he hissed. She didn’t reply, only glancing down and away, avoiding his glare. And then he was in front of her, his face close to hers, too close. She felt his rage. He again slammed the palm of his hand against the wall – this time, next to her ear. She winced. With his other hand, he brought her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze, and he spoke again, his voice a low, hoarse whisper, “Don’t question what I’m doin’, or my motivations, and I won’t be questionin’ yours. And while we’re at it, let’s just stay the hell away from each other. Got that?”

She stared into his eyes – one, damaged and scarred and half milky-white, the other, clear and alive and furious. He was too close – far too close for her sanity’s sake.

Why was he foolish enough to expect his life to be anything like his counterpart’s? Or expect her to be anything like her counterpart?

Why was her body still reacting to his simple presence?

And why had she refused him?

They stared at each other, their breath painfully loud in the small cabin. She couldn’t be what he wanted – even if she knew exactly what he wanted. This man was far too complex, and their situation was too … too … too what? Was there a word to describe it?

Even as thoughts tumbled through her mind, she noticed the anger was ebbing away from him, softening his eyes and the tension in his jaw. She wanted him to stay angry. She wanted him to stay away from her – at least, for the moment. Until she understood what was happening, and until she had some semblance of control.

“T’Pol?” His touch had become a caress. She found herself turning into his hand and savoring his cool fingers against her skin. He leaned fractionally toward her, and then paused, eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong with you?”

What was wrong? Her home world could be under siege at that very moment, destroyed and beaten by the human race, and she wanted to devour the man in front of her.

Something clicked in her mind.

And, suddenly, she was angry.

A green haze clouded her vision. With a growl, she twisted her head away from his touch. She wanted to hurt him – no, she wanted to kill him, to get rid of him. What did his warning matter? She could kill him, and she would kill him. With a snarl, she shoved, all her sudden rage channeled through her fists.

Tucker flew across the cabin, his body thudding loudly against the far wall and his head cracking against a bulkhead. He tumbled down, sprawling in a graceless heap on the floor, and then she pounced. With one fluid motion, she flipped him onto his back and moved over him. His mouth hung open, his eyes wide and dilated. He was dazed, in pain.

Good.

She realized what she had to do. He could not control her – not in any way.

T’Pol straddled him, roughly pinning his arms over his head. Her fingernails dug into his flesh as she leveraged herself over him, settling her weight onto his abdomen. Her broken leg jutted out awkwardly beside her, but she gave it little thought. He gasped beneath her and struggled to regain his breath.

It was likely he’d sustained a head injury, although she did not care – even if it made her task far riskier.

Anger still flooded through her, but so too did a strange clarity of mind – clarity of a type. She didn’t need this human, surely. She just needed what was in his mind. And she’d explored his mind before on many occasions.

Taking her hand from his shoulder, she placed her fingers along the familiar points of his damp, slack face. He was slowly regaining awareness, shifting beneath her, beginning to struggle. She pressed harder.

T’Pol felt his emotions, nearly tangible tendrils that arced through her fingers and slid into her mind. She felt what he felt, his fogged haze of thought, his pain. His blood pressure was elevated, she realized; this would be painful for her as well, but she did not care.

He deserved it. All humans deserved this.

“My mind to your mind. My thoughts to your thoughts.”

She felt the connection forming, his pain heightening, his emotions mounting, his thoughts clarifying. She heard him gasp, felt him writhe beneath her, and she strengthened her hold.

In Tucker's body, blood vessels dilated and chemical balances shifted. The electrical signals along his neural pathways were forced to concede to the strength of her Vulcan physiology. In T'Pol's body, the effects were echoed. Her pain was intense, but she knew he was experiencing something far worse.

The crimson fog of his mind was visible to her. The secrets she required were so close. She did not want nor need him. It did not matter what she did to this human.

Tucker gasped again, and her hand shook against his skin. His face was a brilliant, painful red, and where her fingers stabbed, his flesh was sickly white.

So close.

So … close.

No.

There was a cry – she didn’t know if it was his or hers – and she wrenched herself away. She tripped over her own broken leg and crumpled to the floor, gasping and shaking and sweating.

The cabin was silent for long minutes, filled only with the sound of the shuttle’s thrumming engines and their own heavy breathing.

She couldn’t kill him – not this human. Not Tucker.

He didn’t deserve that.

The once-deafening rage had faded to a low buzz. Everything that had seemed so clear and defined and strangely familiar, just moments ago, was now hazy and gray.

And numb. Strangely numb.

The man beside her groaned and rolled gingerly onto his side, eyes closed and brow deeply furrowed. She shifted her gaze to his face. He was pale, covered in a thick sheen of sweat, his dark, wet hair only enhancing his unnatural pallor.

What had she become? A coward? Or a being with a conscience?

In the end, was there a difference?

She noticed he was trembling, his breath shuddering audibly. She was shaking, too. Reaching over, T’Pol lightly grasped his arm. “Tucker.”

He winced and tried to pull away. She briefly closed her eyes and tightened her grip. A headache roared at the fringes of her mind, and she sensed his pain through her touch. Silence would, undoubtedly, be better for the both of them.

T’Pol also knew he needed rest and an analgesic. Reluctantly, she let him go and staggered to her feet. Her leg throbbed in protest, but she ignored it, instead lurching to the other side of the cabin, where her crutch had fallen. She snatched it up, straightened – and hissed as a wave of dizziness nearly toppled her.

If they remained like this, they would be utterly defenseless against their pursuers. What good was superior technology if those meant to operate it were incapable of doing so?

She should have pressed her attack. She should have completed it. She would have the knowledge that she needed to take the shuttle on to the rebels. And if he had been truthful in saying that she needed him alive, she would've found a way to control him.

Would she have killed him, though? T’Pol couldn’t restrain a shudder of revulsion. She’d killed others; that was a fact of life. The Empire was at war, and she had been a part of its army. She had even killed rebels while locked in that perverted sense of loyalty to her Captain.

But Tucker? No. She couldn’t kill him. He was …

He was …

He was what? Her rescuer, most certainly. Her lover, still? Could they continue their relationship? Their arrangement?

No. It wasn’t possible. At least, not now. Not when dreams troubled her sleep and when she could barely control her own strange passions. She couldn’t do that to him.

After glancing once more at the man sprawled, still shaking and sweating, on the floor of the shuttle, she turned and hobbled away in search of their rudimentary medical supplies.

T’Pol owed him that simple care, in the very least.

And owed him far more, for far greater reasons – which she knew she should resent, but somehow could not.

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Tucker was snoring.

T’Pol was attempting to meditate and failing spectacularly.

It had been more than ten hours since she’d attacked him, and he was still sleeping. She supposed it was healthy for him to do so: even if she hadn’t fully completed her attack, they were both still suffering from the damage she had inflicted. Tucker was also undoubtedly exhausted from their escape, and she could only roughly guess the amount of work and time he had put into making that escape possible.

A pang of guilt turned her gut, but T’Pol pushed it away.

Before he had fully lost consciousness, she’d wiped him down and covered his still-shaking body with a bed-sheet. Then, she’d tucked a pillow under his head and administered a hypospray cocktail. It was, perhaps ironically, the first time she’d ever acted as nurse to a human.

Her eyes were now focused on the glowing console in front of her. She sat at the navigational array, all the ship’s systems running smoothly, all the scans showing nothing new. The United Federation of Planets’ emblem gleamed up at her from one screen, and she studiously ignored it. She would not assuage her foolish curiosity again.

T’Pol glanced back at him. He looked oddly tranquil and innocent, his dark hair now dry and matted. He’d turned his face slightly, so that only the undamaged half was visible to her, the scars lost to the cabin’s shadows.

In his sleep, he even looked … kind.

She shook her head slightly. Surely Tucker could not be kind, not even in his sleep. There had been an explicit reason he'd gone into that brig and saved her, and it was not compassion.

Perhaps in the strange whispers of her wishes …

Angrily, T’Pol pushed those thoughts away. Unfortunately, she was unable to take her eyes off of him. Another equally frustrating emotion stirred in her belly, and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

He was kind. Deep within him, he was gentle. She found it impossible to ignore that fact, familiar as she had been with it while lying in his arms. She had experienced it during and after their intercourse, and felt it plainly during the occasions she’d melded with him.

Her gaze drifted downward, over his body. The silky material of the bed-sheet clung to him, every curve and angle of his physique plainly outlined.

He was always pleasing to watch, to study, scarred or not.

Was it so wrong to keep him as her lover? Even in their strange circumstances?

Yes, her mind answered firmly, and T’Pol tore her eyes away. Tucker’s words prodded her as she jabbed angrily at the navigational array, which blipped mildly in return. What was wrong with her?

Whatever answers her mind might have given that question were stalled by a quiet groan behind her. Immediately, she turned her attention back to the engineer. He rolled onto his side, towards her. His eyes remained tightly shut, but he was obviously waking.

As she hobbled to his side and knelt awkwardly, he blinked and squinted up at her. “T’Pol?”

Tucker winced at his own words, pain knotting his brow. His headache had likely not abated, and she reached for the hypospray she’d placed near his head. Administering it, she said, “This will reduce the pain but will not relieve it completely. It should ease in a few days.”

They were silent for a few moments: Tucker, waiting for the analgesic to act, and T’Pol, watching his fingers fiddle with the sheet’s edge. Finally, he swallowed and opened his eyes again. “How long was I out?” he asked hoarsely.

T’Pol reached for the water-container she’d also left near his head and handed it to him. As he leveraged himself up, she replied, “10.47 hours.”

A trickle of water escaped his mouth as he drank, and she watched it slide down his chin. He gave a sigh, and she forced her eyes back to his. He was obviously already thinking, planning, despite the residual affects of her attack. This strange, unknown aspect of Tucker – a man who considered, plotted, conspired – was unnerving. She’d misjudged him drastically.

“ETA to Oolia?”

“Eight hours.” He blinked at her in surprise. She added, “The Apollo changed their heading three hours ago. I assumed they extrapolated our intended destination.”

Tucker narrowed his eyes. “I locked in the autopilot.”

She lifted a brow. “I broke the encryption.”

“Huh.” He eyed her thoughtfully, tongue probing his cheek. Then, “What about the Damian?”

“The sensors have not yet detected it.”

“That’s odd,” he muttered. “Should’ve shown up by now. Long before now.”

T’Pol didn’t reply, only inclined her head. None of the sensor modifications she’d made had altered the findings, which was something of a comfort. One less ship to contend with would only help their situation.

Tucker sat up more fully and took another drink, and she made to stand – only to feel his hand wrap around her wrist. He was again looking at her, this time with an intensity that surprised her. “You … you didn’t, did you?”

His question wasn’t about the encryption; that was obvious enough. She forced her expression into one of utter neutrality, but questions again tugged at her. Why hadn’t she forced the mind-meld, in the end? She’d been so close. And even if she had needed him in some capacity, he was greatly susceptible to telepathic suggestions – at least, to hers. “No,” she finally answered.

“Huh,” he repeated. Whether that was a sound of skepticism, belief, or thoughtfulness, T’Pol was not sure. For whatever reason, that was all he had to say on the matter. He let go of her wrist and moved to stand, and she sat back in mild surprise. She quickly stood, also, but averted her eyes; he was still naked, and had only grasped the sheet enough to take it back into the rear compartment with him.

Granted, she’d seen him naked many times before. She knew his body intimately, and he, hers. But it was also sensible, she knew, that she didn’t look. She didn’t need to test her control any more than she already had. As it was, her lower belly ached with something disturbingly recognizable.

She did stare, though, as he disappeared into the other cabin, bed-sheet trailing in a child-like fashion. There was something remarkably appealing about his behind.

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Tucker had dressed and returned to her side only minutes after leaving the front compartment, although he’d barely spared her a glance after settling down into the other control center seat. She’d left him to the navigational array, and had moved to the co-pilot’s chair. Despite that, he had reached over and proceeded to scour as far as the shuttle’s long-range sensors would reach during warp.

T’Pol had left him to his task and his brooding silence. The silence, at least, was familiar enough to her. Tucker had always been either talkative or not, depending on his mood.

She knew she should attempt to meditate, but she remained strangely unsettled … to the point she didn’t want to meditate. It was curious, disturbing. After the failed meld, a faint uneasiness had settled into the back of her mind – subtle, but persistent.

Glancing sideways at Tucker, she noted the intensity of his focus – and the fact that the readings in front of him did not hold his full attention, as they had moments ago. What did he think of her? She could have easily killed him. She nearly did, or at least nearly damaged his mind to a cruel and unusual extent.

He had saved her, and she had repaid him thus.

No. T’Pol shook off her self-condemnation. He had provoked her, at least to some extent. He had yet to give her any truly pertinent information, information that she could digest and find some way to aid him in, beyond simple shuttle operations. He was too secretive, too untrusting.

But did he have a reason to trust her?

Blinking, she realized Tucker had turned to meet her gaze. She quickly looked away, back to the sensors, the heat of a flush touching her ears and neck.

Perhaps these thoughts were better left to a time when she did not sit in such close proximity to him. She also doubted her success at any attempt at meditation, at this point.

With an internal sigh, she forced herself to focus on the information displayed before her, and to put off any thought of the human male beside her.

Hours later, T’Pol finally spoke. “Approaching the Oolian system. The Apollo is still three point four hours away.”

Tucker nodded curtly and moved his hands over the helm control. “Leavin’ warp. Goin’ to impulse.”

T’Pol felt the shuttle shudder ever so slightly – a movement that made the engineer beside her grunt in dissatisfaction. And then, through the shuttlecraft’s windows, she had her first glimpse of Oolia.

A dense asteroid field – giant, deeply cragged chunks of what she knew were former planets – choked the space in front of them, although Tucker didn’t hesitate to guide the shuttle in. “Maneuvering thrusters only,” he muttered, and the shuttle glided into the disconcerting maze.

Dark, scarred, and mutilated, the asteroids tumbled and twirled on their axes as she watched, fascinated. As the ship moved silently between the giants, she noticed other visible debris: glints of metal, random fragments and pieces of hull, remnants of a decade-old battle. Human hands had done this.

Her planet’s system could be reduced to nothing more than a graveyard as well, she knew. Vulcan could be under attack at this very moment.

A small twinge of pain forced her back away from the uncomfortably familiar rage, and she realized her hands were clutching at the console in front of her in an iron, white-knuckle grip.

“Recalibrate those sensors,” Tucker barked. He had a fine sheen of sweat on his brow as he fought to pilot the ship. “Trimelium – screen out the trimelium.”

T’Pol blinked, flushed, forced herself to refocus on the here and now. Her sensors were struggling to keep up with the information pouring into them. She did as he directed, fumbling a moment with the sensor controls and the filters.

The console blipped and he grunted in approval. “Damn stuff is everywhere here. Hard to trace on sensors, but it still makes ‘em go crazy.”

Tucker remained focused on the console in front of him, the corner of his mouth ticked downward in intense concentration. For a man who had spent many years almost literally locked into an engine room, he was oddly skilled as a pilot. And how had he survived the battle in this system? She mentally shook herself. Tucker’s history was none of her concern, really.

They slid beneath the hulk of a particularly large asteroid, and then the broad expanse of the system’s inner space spread before them. A miasmic cloud of gas and dust swirled, ghost-like, dimming the distant, dying sun to a faint greenish light.

“Impressive, huh?” Tucker murmured, looking as well. She glanced aside at him, and he met her gaze. His good eye was dark with … something. Anger, perhaps. Maybe even sadness. “Lotta people died here. Too many.” His face remained stonily impassive as he returned his attention to the helm, and T’Pol bent her head over her own sensor readings.

She frowned. “I’m picking up … shadows … within the inner expanse. Mostly of similar size, seemingly randomly spaced.”

“Mines,” Tucker said. “Reason we came here. They’re all lined with Trimelium, so if you don’t know what you’re lookin’ for … well, tough luck.”

T’Pol canted an eyebrow. “Do you intend on informing me of your full plan, or will I be forced to speculate, only?”

He flashed a grin at her. “Don’t like bein’ in the dark, darlin’?”

Some Earth metaphors were strikingly astute. “No.”

Another large asteroid loomed in front of them. Tucker piloted them into its dark shadow, tapped quickly at the array, and then grunted in satisfaction. “All right. Now, we wait.”

She lifted both eyebrows. “Wait?”

“Yeah. Wait.”

T’Pol resisted the urge to roll her eyes. All humans were immensely irritating – one among many of their flaws.

Beside her, Tucker chuckled. “You need to meditate or somethin’, darlin’. You’re easier’n a book to read, lately.”

I am not! She bit back the words before they could escape and instead said, “Will you elaborate?” The question came out more as a hiss than the cool statement she intended.

Tucker chuckled again. Something feral gleamed in his eye as he watched her, but he turned quickly back to the console in front of him and cleared his throat. “There’s really not that much to know. We wait, they’ll come. We’ll all play cat’n’mouse for a while ‘til I figure out a way to send ‘em into those mines, if they don’t do us a favor first and fly right into ‘em. Not a lot of people know about the Trimelium, so that should work in our favor.”

He frowned, reaching over to tap at the sensor grid in front of her. “Don’t know what happened to the Damian, though.” Tucker pulled back and turned to his own readings. “I need you to figure out where the highest concentration of those mines are. And give me some kinda map of how they’re placed.”

T’Pol resisted the urge to raise her eyebrow again. The man knew how annoying unforthcoming he was being, and undoubtedly still suffered from the affects of her attack, despite the analgesic. Even so, he tried her patience to its limits. His casual, flippant orders grated on her nerves.

Still, she held her tongue and instead turned to the sensor grid. As she fed an equation into the computer, she commented, “It seems illogical to mine a system that is, for all intents and purposes, dead.”

He grunted. “A stupid idea some admiral had a while back. Tryin’ to trap pirates, or rebels, or something.” He paused. “That’s all this place is good for. A goddamned trap.”

Silence reigned between them for several minutes.

At last, T’Pol gave into her curiosity. “How did you survive the battle?”

Again, silence. T’Pol waited patiently. She knew Tucker at least this well.

“I was a fighter pilot,” he finally said. She’d seen many of those one-man flitters – small, fast, effective fighting machines. Not many survived piloting them. He continued: “When they destabilized the sun, I don’t think they realized it’d be that big of a … of an explosion. I’d chased someone out, saw the wave comin’, and rode it out.” Tucker shook his head. “Never knew surfin’ as a kid would come in handy, out in space.”

It was hard to imagine a tiny fighter riding on the waves of a massive energy surge and surviving, but perhaps proof of that sat beside her. T’Pol doubted he had a reason to lie about it, not here, not now.

“You were a pilot. How did you become Enterprise’s chief engineer in only ten years?” Her curiosity still couldn’t be fully contained. That lack of control frustrated her, but for some reason T’Pol found this man far more fascinating now than she ever had before.

Tucker shrugged. “Bein’ in the right place at the right time. Knowin’ the right people. Workin’.” Smirking, he pointed to his scars. “I was a lot prettier when I was a pilot. Could’ve had any girl I wanted. But bein’ an engineer has its own perks, even if it cut my life span in half.”

T’Pol narrowed her eyes. “You did not have sexual relations with Crewman Geller.”

He looked surprised at the sudden turn of conversation and also narrowed his eyes. “Why the hell couldn’t I? And what’s it to you, anyways?”

“You did not,” she persisted.

“Did you find out for yourself? Screwin’ around with my head, like you always do?” Tucker snapped.

“I did not complete the meld, as you know,” T’Pol snapped back.

“Yeah? How do I know yer not lyin’?”

T’Pol was on her feet in an instant, trembling with anger. “I do not lie!”

He stared right back at her, fury darkening even the pale blue of his injured eye. “What’re you gonna do?” he asked quietly. “Try to kill me again?”

She fought against the rage – and for once, quickly tamped it down. After a beat, she coolly said, “You haven’t given any proof that I will need your assistance past our entrance into rebel territory. Is there any particular reason that I shouldn’t? ”

Tucker jumped to his feet, his face twisted in rage. “You wouldn’t dare …”

“Why wouldn’t I? You are human.”

“I saved your goddamned life!”

“I never said I wanted my life saved.”

“Like hell you didn’t! “

T’Pol edged closer to him. The rank tang of his sweat filled her nostrils. “You give me inconsequential pieces of information, yet expect me to trust you. I can find no logical reason to do so.”

Tucker was becoming inarticulate in his rage. “You—! Goddamned—!”

She nearly smirked.

His expression changed abruptly, and he leaned closer to her, eyes narrowed. “There any particular reason yer tryin’ so hard to get me angry enough to shoot you?”

“None that I wish to share.”

“Well, then stop.” He reached forward, his calloused palm brushing against her elbow. “All this fightin’ is turnin’ me on.”

T’Pol swallowed heavily. Desire lurked in his good eye, and she noticed the change in his scent. She took a step back and nearly toppled into her chair. Tucker steadied her, but when she met his gaze again, the desire was gone, replaced with … concern? She hated his recent tendency toward empathy.

“T’Pol, what’s goin’ on with you?”

She pulled free from his grasp. “I simply require time to meditate.”

“Then why haven’t you?”

She never had the chance to respond.

The floor beneath them lurched sickeningly, dropped, then lifted violently, and they both tumbled into Tucker’s chair. Alarms blared over the hiss of escaping gas, and T’Pol struggled to untangle her legs from Tucker’s. Cursing, he simply shoved her away and, by chance, into her own chair.

“Shields down!” he yelled. “Engines offline. Switching to auxiliary power—dammit!” The shuttle lurched again, and they both clung to their consoles. “Who the hell is firing at us?”

Then, abruptly, the ship stilled.

Tucker glanced aside at her. “We don’t have inertial dampeners.”

“No,” T’Pol replied, fingers flying as she rerouted power into the sensor feeds. She stared at her readings, then at Tucker. “It’s the Damian. We’re caught in a tractor beam.”

“How the hell …” He focused on the navigational array, tapping in commands and reroutes. She felt a shudder, but the beam held. “Dammit, no!”

He jabbed murderously at the helm. The shuttle lurched more violently, but her sensor readings didn’t change.

“We barely have secondary systems,” she shouted over the alarms, then continued more quietly as she turned them off. “It won’t work.”

“Sonofabitch,” he growled, tightly gripping the console in front of him. He stared up through the shuttle’s windows, fury mingling with fear on his face. T’Pol simply watched him, once again oddly numb.

Tucker might have a chance at living; good engineers were hard to find in the Empire, and he was well known as one of the best. As for her? She wondered if she would be shot on sight.

Cursing again, Tucker swung around in his chair and strode quickly to the bench-like seats along the port side of the cabin. He’d left the black case there, the one with the Defiant’s data disks. As T’Pol watched, he knelt beside it and tapped at a control panel along its front side. It flashed a green light, and he slid his finger across a small aperture below the panel. The light blipped red, and he turned to look at her. “Biometrical lock. Don’t try to open this, whatever you do, okay?”

T’Pol nodded mutely. He stood and glanced around the cabin, frustration clear on his face. The shuttle shuddered again, and she heard a loud metallic clank.

“Tucker,” she said, and he turned again to her. She recognized the desperation in his eyes. A flurry of panic stirred in her stomach.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I thought – I thought we had a chance. We still might, but … well. It depends. And,” – he laughed bitterly – “you annoy me like fire, but damn it all if I don’t …” There was another vicious jolt, and he didn’t continue.

“We could fight,” T’Pol said softly.

“No,” he replied. “I’m tired of fightin’.”

They drifted into silence, listening to the sounds of the shuttle settling into its docking port and retracting into the belly of the larger ship. A sensor behind her marked the change in atmospheric pressure outside the shuttle, and she stood and hobbled to Tucker’s side. She doubted she’d be allowed use of the crutch.

He turned to her and kissed her cheek, then her neck. “I’m sorry, T’Pol.” He paused, then added, ”There might still be some chance, so just … just keep your cool.”

Despite his words, there was still defeat in his voice. She reached for his face, fingers moving across the rough stubble and over his lips.

He kissed her fingers, then stepped away from her at the sound of a phase pistol blast outside the shuttlecraft’s door. There was a thump, an electrical hiss, and the door slid haltingly open. A rifle muzzle appeared first in the doorway, and then T’Pol, blinking at the white light pouring in through the opening, saw the faces of the MACOs beyond.

She felt another flare of panic. Was she about to die? Would this death be better than the execution she had been meant for? Both paths led to death – one would have just come more quickly, if Tucker hadn’t rescued her. She would still die a defeated failure.

“We’re unarmed,” Tucker’s gruff voice said thickly, and she glanced aside at him. He wasn’t going to fight. Even now, he thought there was a chance for them. Perhaps he truly was a fool – a delusional one at that.

The MACO team quickly and quietly moved into the shuttle; she noted the men and women were well-trained and efficient. Four rifles remained leveled at Tucker and herself, while three other MACOs began to rapidly searched the shuttle.

“Search them,” called a deep male voice.

A blond man with deeply hooded eyes prodded her with his rifle. “Hands over your head, linked together.”

An emerald flush crept to her cheeks as the MACO frisked her, his hands roaming her body. No human hand had touched her this freely, besides Tucker’s. It was humiliating to be treated like a criminal, despite the fact that she was a criminal … at least in the eyes of the Empire. The hands paused over her gauze-wrapped splint.

“That’s a cast,” Tucker quickly said. Why he was watching her? “She needs it. She’s got a broken le—“ A sickly thud silenced him, and she turned to see him stumble backwards, blood flowing freely from beneath his hand, which covered his nose.

“Quiet! And hands over your head!” snarled the dark-haired, cinnamon-skinned woman who had hit him. She’d unhooked her rifle from her shoulder, and it rested low in her hands.

Tucker complied, slowly, and the blond MACO beside T’Pol took out a sensor wand and waved it up and down her cast.

“Metal brace, covered in synthetic medical cloth,” he reported.

The female MACO strolled over, her rifle still held at ease. A brief thought flashed through T’Pol’s mind: grab the rifle and make a stand. She squelched it, quickly. She’d be dead before she was able to draw another breath.

Her momentary distraction left her unprepared.

The woman’s rifle connected sharply with her upper leg, resounding with a crack that filled the cabin. T’Pol cried out in anguish as pain lanced up and down her, tingling into her mind and fogging over all else for one, blindingly emerald moment.

The day that all humans would die … that they would all die …

“Leave her alone, you bitch!” She heard Tucker’s furious yell, then another thud and a pained wheeze.

“Looks legit,” the human woman said calmly. T’Pol kept her eyes closed, desperately trying to control the throbbing pain. She heard the MACO move away, back towards Tucker. Then another pulpy blow of metal against flesh and the sound of Tucker stumbling backward. “Shut it, sweet-cheeks. Go carry your whore.”

There was another thud, and the woman snarled, “Don’t give me that look. Get over there.”

T’Pol finally opened her eyes again, only to meet Tucker’s concerned gaze. Crimson blood still flowed freely from his nose, and the bruise that blossomed there matched the sickly purple and red tones in his scar. He didn’t sling her over his shoulder this time, but gently picked her up, cradling her close to his chest. She dimly realized the irony: despite the situation, despite everything, she was glad to be allowed this close to him once more.

With her head tucked into the crook of his neck, his scent was almost overpowering – and extraordinarily comforting. There was the detergent of his shirt, light and distant. The sweat of his body, still tainted with fear and anger. Blood, sharp and metallic. And his scent, wonderful and beautiful. Breathing him in, she was finally able to blot out the pain, and the situation came into disturbingly sharp focus again.

Two of the MACOs had filed out of the shuttle ahead of them, and Tucker was following. He paused at the shuttle’s doorway, turning slightly to maneuver them both through. He grunted softly and tensed, and she heard the MACO woman again. “Faster, Tucker!”

He stumbled slightly outside the craft, caught himself, and climbed the metal stairs out of the docking hold. They were narrow and steep, but he kept a tight hold on her and managed not to stumble again. At the top of the stairs, he stopped, and T’Pol turned her head away from his chest.

A large, deeply tanned man stood nearby, his hand up, palm out. She realized he was the reason they had stopped. His eyes were blue, like Tucker’s, but there was an icy, emotionless steel to them that she’d never seen in Tucker’s gaze. He was balding, the shiny pate of his head gleaming in the harsh light of the hold, but the remnants of his graying hair were thick, glossy, and neatly trimmed. She noted he was also the fattest captain she’d ever seen, the leather belt of the Empire’s uniform riding low on his round, protruding gut.

Beside him stood a Vulcan. He was as tall as the captain, and his eyes just as emotionless, but the similarities ended there. He had finely chiseled features and a lean body, and his uniform was decorated with commander’s pips. As she looked at him, his eyes moved to meet her gaze. For a brief second, something flickered there. T’Pol blinked and it was gone. She wondered if, in her growing loss of control, she was beginning to imagine things.

Then perhaps all this was a delusion? Her leg throbbed seemingly in response. No, she decided. It was all quite real.

“Tucker, Tucker, Tucker,” the captain spoke, his voice deep and booming. She remembered it as the same voice that had called for her and Tucker to be searched, while in the shuttle. “Thought you could get away, didn’t you?” he continued. The man had a slow, thoughtful way of speaking, as if he tasted and considered every word as he said it. “And straight to Oolia, like a fool. Don’t you remember that I was here, too?”

Tucker didn’t answer, but she felt his anger building. She shifted slightly, hoping to distract him. Her movement drew the captain’s attention as well, unfortunately. A smirk spread on his fat lips. “You even took your Vulcan whore.”

Tucker’s arms tightened almost painfully around her. His anger was reaching the boiling point; he might not want to fight, but if goaded enough, she knew he would – even for completely foolish reasons. Inconspicuously, she pinched him. He took the hint and relaxed his hold.

The captain folded his arms across his broad chest. “I’m under orders to execute you as soon as I catch you, but to do so would be sadly short-sighted.” He paused, eyes narrowed thoughtfully at them. “No, there’s a use for the two of you.”

After one more moment of silent study, the captain glanced beyond them and nodded slightly. Once again, T’Pol heard the sharp call of the MACO woman. “Let’s go!”

The bay’s doors rumbled open, and the two MACOs in front of them moved into the corridor. Tucker reluctantly followed. The thud of footsteps behind them told her that at least two MACOs followed. Were she and Tucker such a security risk that they needed a four-man detail? It seemed ridiculous. Perhaps the MACOs were protecting them? That idea seemed just as absurd.

Onward they marched. The hallways were unusually empty, and the lights were dimmed to an odd blue. Tucker’s long strides jarred her leg painfully, but she attempted unsuccessfully to ignore it. The pain didn’t help her whirling mind; she was trying to sort through the odd pieces of information – or, more accurately, non-information – that the captain had told them. It was a task that brought her headache to a feverish pitch. Or, perhaps, that was Tucker’s pain. This close to him, with her mental shields severely compromised, she was hard pressed to distinguish between the two.

Tucker stopped, and she heard the hiss of a door. Turning her head, she saw a guard languishing within, only to hop to attention at the sight of the detail and its ward. The two lead MACOs stood aside as Tucker took the hint and stepped within.

The dark-skinned woman moved past Tucker and his burden, over to one of the cells. Her body obscured the security panel, but T’Pol heard her punch in a code, then watched dully as the cell door slid open. The MACO gestured with her rifle, and Tucker went in without protest.

Quickly settling T’Pol onto the long, narrow bunk, he knelt beside her and cupped her cheek with his hand, his long fingers gently brushing her temple. “You okay?”

T’Pol nodded. She could be worse off. She could be dead.

“Tucker, let’s go!” the woman barked.

He turned away from T’Pol slightly, and the heat of his anger and his concern for her spread through his hand and into her mind. “She needs medical treatment.”

The MACO laughed viciously. “We don’t waste medical supplies on traitors. Now move it, Tucker.”

Tucker glared mutely back at the woman, but didn’t leave T’Pol’s side. She turned her head to watch, settling her cheek further into Tucker’s cool palm. He stroked her once, softly, with his thumb.

The woman laughed again. “Fine,” she said, backing out of the cell and punching in the lock code. “Stay there. Go ahead and screw, for all I care.” Smirking, she glanced at the MACO on brig-duty. “At least you’ll provide some entertainment for your guard.”

The young man stiffened further and stared resolutely ahead, a red flush creeping up his neck and onto his cheeks, his hands clenching and unclenching around his rifle.

The woman turned away from him and jerked her chin toward the brig’s door. The blond one hit the control panel, and the detail filed out. Their remaining guard took on a sulky look as he settled back against the wall, his grip loosening around his rifle but his un-blinking glare murderous.

Tucker turned his full attention back on T’Pol, and she turned her head again to meet his gaze. His face was still covered in blood, and she lifted her hand to his face, touched the caking mess, smeared the vibrant red onto her fingers. “You require medical attention, as well.”

A small grin tugged at his mouth. “Nah, it’s not bad.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Unless it bothers you.”

“No,” she replied.

He leaned down and kissed the point where her jaw met her neck, and then moved to the lobe of her ear. “Just hang on, baby,” he said softly, quietly. “We might be okay.”

He drew back and looked at her. He was scarred, bloodied, bruised, and beaten – yet still held onto a crazy hope.

Should she, as well? Something screamed at the back of her mind, but she was tired of fighting it, suppressing it.

She gazed at him. Maybe she was just a whore, just an animal after all. But even if she was, she decided, she would far rather belong to this man, to Tucker, than be a slave of the Empire.

The human who had rescued her gathered her in his arms and buried his bloody face against her neck.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

TBC

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A whole mess of folks have made comments

wow - most excellent

-j

Yay! I get to be first! (And I broke my no-posting-at-work rule just for you, darlin'.)

Oh, Clarity, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways. Ok, we haven't got all day here, so let me just say that this fic is the most fully realized and involving MU universe I've found. Plus, you MU Tucker and T'Pol are SMOKIN' hot together. Rowr.

Love, Love, Love your writing, Ludjin. Can't wait for the next chapter...

yay! i was so happy to see a new chapter in this.

yay! i was so happy to see a new chapter in this story.

Excellent ! Well worth the wait, BUT dont make everyone wait so long for the next part.

Can't wait to see how you get them out of the Damian's brig! I like how MU Tucker and T'Pol fight like cats and dogs until confronted with a common enemy, then it's "Just hang on, baby. We might be okay."

Very nice!

Have I mentioned how much I love this story? I freakin' love this story. LOL. :) This is such a vividly written continuation of the MU. I can't say enough good things about it. I also agree with T'Leela, the MU Trip and T'Pol here are most definitely smokin' hot! It's such a love/hate thing they have going on. It's awesome.

More soon, please!

Glad to see more! Really looking forward to the next chapter...

I'm glad you continued this story. I've really enjoyed it so far, and am looking forward to the next chapter.

Even if I have to repeat myself: I love it, Ludjin! (But what happend to this brain damaging thing you mentioned some time ago? Remember spoiling me ´bout that? ;-) But, hey - it´s far better THIS way!!)
Don´t let us hang that long again for the next chapter. I don´t have time to re-read the whole story every time there´s a new installment. *LOL* (Yes, I had to that this time.)

Day-um!!! This is great, I think you've captured MU Tucker & MU T'Pol perfectly.. "All this fightin' is making me hot"... That's no joke!!

Wow! Please continue! I can't wait for more!

Thanks, all! You make this writer very, very happy.

Jana: The "head damage" is still there. It's just something a bit different. :)

The next chapter is (note: IS) coming along much faster.

Yeah, new chapter! I love your mirror versions of TnT. And I can't wait to see what's coming next. You've got the tension between them just perfect. Can't wait for the next chapter.

Yessssss! I love the way you're writing this story. Your MU Trip and T'Pol are intense and amazing.

Ludjin WOW!!!! Good things do come to those that wait. ;),,,, Really lovin this chapie,, Its really interesting to see all thats goin through MU Pollys head,, should she trust Tucker? A man who saved her life but at the same time a member ofa race ready to whipe out her own,, her wondering if she can trust him,,, His lack of not bein forth comin with any Info on his plan,,,,,an i just love the Tension,,, Can see Trip dosnt qutie know what to do bout T'pol,, after all she had been willin to harm him before for her own gain,,an then she tried to meld again,,,,,,,, I just love both of their conflections,, their insticts are yellin yest trust them,, at the same time their experance is sayin No,,,,,,, Just wow Great,, Fic,,, Cant wait for the next Chapie,,, Im thinkin this other ship might be apart of Tuckers plan,, Not quite sure how yet... Totaly loved it,,, Great job. :)

FINALLY!!! Feels like I've been waiting forever for this chapter! Almost sorry they didn't get away completely from the Empire, but I'm anxious to see how you get them free.

Don't make us wait so long please!

Finally!! It feels like I've been waiting for an update forever. Good story; a little disappointed they got caught by the Empire, but I'm anxious to see how you get them free. You will get them free, won't you? ;-)

Please don'e make us wait so long for the next chapter!

Just wanted to add that I love your MU T'Pol POV. You've done a great job of getting into her head and staying there too. ;)

WOW! Great job, Ludjin. You do an amazing job of giving depth to the characters they showed us in IAMD. Your MU Tucker & T'Pol are wonderfully believable, and just SO ... DAMNED ... HOT!

More please. :-)

Ludjin, this is so FRACKIN good. Count me in as part of your cheering section! This is such a great MU.
And yeah, HOT. I am SO glad you've continued this. Can't wait to see the next installment. All these great fanfics have made up for a future without new eps. Thanks to your imagination!

You are killing me with your cliffhangers! I take your word for "IS" coming...!!

Love this story to bits. Your Trip and T'Pol are wonderful. The tension, the suspense - wow! Looking forward to the rest.

I don't usually like MU stories, but this is awesome! Can't wait to see what comes next.

Awesome chapter! You can cut the sexual tension with a knife! I can't wait for the next part.

Ditto on the sexual tension... I was holdin' my breath half the time. Total MU yumminess! Wow!

Thank you for another great M/U chappy...pleeeeze make the next one soon...I can't wait to see what happens to the dynamic duo next!
;)

Ya know, I've been thinking about the story and I think Trip and T'Pol are beginning to or are bonded and they don't know it yet. I think that's why T'Pol couldn't go through with the forced meld.

Also, Trip makes the comment, “You need to meditate or somethin’, darlin’. You’re easier’n a book to read, lately.”

And further, T'Pol notices that she can feel his emotions better due to her supposed weakened shields. During the capture, they're feeling each other pretty intimately.

I hope they can get out of this situation. I'm just loving this story.

Oh my God! What a beautifully written story. Completes the MU to perfection. Please, please, please update soon.

(Back to reading it all over again.)

Wonderful, just wonderful, I love it, so beautifully done, great job, thank you

I was re-reading this and noticed something really neat, Ludjin: the "green" haze that clouds T'Pol. Wow, what a neat and subtle thing to add!

I still can't wait to see the next chapter...

Excellent chapter, Ludjin. I love your MU-Trip and I like that you gave him a past! I can see him as a fighter pilot. Waiting anxiously for your next update!

Great Job, Ludjin! I love the way you're writing MU Tucker and T'Pol. Angsty! Great stuff!! Can't wait for the next chapter!

Love T & T's POV! Can't wait for the next chapter!!

THANKYOU Ludgin! i've been waiting for what semms like forever, great chapter.

Wow! Boo yeah! Best-chapter-ever. This is such an awesome story, and you, Ludjin, are one heckuva writer! More more more more more! Please. :)

Had initial doubts about reading a MU fic (my 1st)but soon got hooked on your well paced action and suspense and the way you portray TnT and CAN'T WAIT FOR MORE!! How much longer????? Please let it be soon!!!

I'm hooked please finish.

I just read the whole thing again. I can't wait for the next installment. This is really well written.

I had to read it again also; still high on my list. Where's the rest??

when's there goimg to be more? pleaase!

Sooooo good! You must not leave us hanging.I can't wait to see how they will get out of this mess. (And would it be too much to ask for more naked, arguing Tucker in future chapters-that is such a nice mental image!:-) )

Great story! I was recommended to read this on the trekbbs. I can see way. Waiting eagerly for the next chapter!!! The Mirror Universe rocks! Your story rocks! Mirror T'Pol is .....!!!

great story, looking forward to the next installment, is it far away

any chance of this story being continued any time soon? i'm at the edge of my seat!!! love all your stories, please write more!

Excellent story. Hope you update soon.

i love this story. i just re-read it and its amazing! Please update soon

MORE please please please!!!

AWESOME!!! I just read these three chapters and am DYING for more. PLEASE HURRY!!!!

Can't wait for more! I love the tenderness Trip is showing T'Pol, and T'Pol is accepting it not because she is at his mercy, but because she really wants to. I love this!

I have read this many times, please finish it I have tempted to say soon, but the quality is such that it would be a shame to finish it in a hurry and not do it justice. So stop Beta'ing others work and complete this excellent piece

I have been in contact with Ludjin. She has recently moved across states and will have to wait until the computer with "Clarity" on it is shipped with her furniture. Small loads have to wait until the truck is full, so it may be a couple of months. However, she has promised to finish it.

Please feel free to continue leaving messages. She appreciates getting them (and it doesn't hurt to keep your interest before her).

I love this story and am happy to see that it will be continued. Hope your comuter arrives soon.

Great! Very happy to hear that it will be continued. Love the quality and detail of the story.

I can't believe that I haven't commented on this yet!?

I absolutely LOVE "Clarity"! There are many excellent fics out there but this one really stands out.

Sweet and tender scenes among all the twisted-ness that is the Mirror Universe. I love MU T'Pol's reaction to seeing the RU counterparts of her and Tucker.

Please, Ludjin, finish chapter 4 soon! :-D

Just read this again and realised I hadn't read chap 3 yet. Love it, this story is brilliant. Love the T'Pol Pov. Also have the feeling that TnT are bonded or a close to it. Looking forward to the next chapter, may many follow.

I remember seeing book covers made for this, and now I don't remember where I saw them. Does anyone have a link?

WE NEED CHAPTER 4!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Excellent story, when will chapter 4 be ready

CHAPTER 4!!! CHAPTER 4!!! CHAPTER 4!!!

I recently had the oppotunity to read this fine story and simply loved it. I hope you'd eventually update the story.

I guess it isn't happening. Oh, well.

I, for one, could use more clarity in my life... {:D

It's been a YEAR and TWO MONTHS since Chapter 3 came out. WHAT THE HECK!!!

Please write more. I love this story and re-read it regularly. (I rarely read something more than once). Patiently yours, K