Consequences- Part 2

Consequences

By Samantha Quinn

Rating: Right now: PG-13. Will be R later, Romance
Disclaimers in Part One.

Spoilers: Major for "Stigma."

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Part Two

A/N: This first part is mainly dialogue, and for that part I’m sorry. However, how can I have characters communicate if they aren’t talking?

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Meanwhile, Back on the Enterprise . . .

Trip Tucker hadn’t been having a very good day. The engines had been thrown completely out of whack in their last alien encounter, and Trip estimated that it would take at least two weeks to repair them.

“Oh, but Trip, that inn’t good enough, is it?” he grumbled to himself as stomped into the Mess hall for a late night snack. There was no way he could go to sleep as he still had plenty of fixing to do with the engines, but he had skipped dinner and was beginning to feel it. Hopefully there’d be a piece of pecan pie left.

That’s just what I need, Trip thought to himself. Comfort food and sugar. Food for the soul and energy to run on.

“And I need plenty of energy because the Cap’n wants to have the engines back up to Warp 5 in five days!” he grumbled again as he opened the refrigeration unit.

Helping himself to the rest of the pie-there was really enough for three pieces, but then, Trip had skipped dinner-as well as a cold glass of milk, Trip maneuvered his way to the seating area, still complaining to himself as he sat down.

“Just because the damn Vulcans and Andorians are signin’ a stupid piece treaty, the Cap’n’s expecting miracles,” he grumbled, stabbing his force savagely into the pie.

“Are you frequently in the habit of communicating with yourself, Commander Tucker?” a familiar voice asked.

Trip looked up to see Sub-Commander T’Pol standing in front of him, her hands wrapped around a mug of hot tea.

Such delicate hands too, Trip thought with a grin. Aw, hell, where did that thought come from? he asked himself.

“Sleep deprivation,” he muttered. At T’Pol’s questioning looking, Trip flashed his most charming grin and waved towards the seat in front of him.

“Have a seat, T’Pol,” he said. “And no, I am not in the habit of talkin’ to myself. I was just complainin’ about my current circumstances in life,” he explained, taking a swig of his milk.

The Vulcan raised an eyebrow in response. “You are experiencing unhappiness with your current post?” T’Pol asked. Although she would not have shared it with Commander Tucker, the thought of him being unhappy was one she found greatly dissatisfying. As the tremor of dissatisfaction made itself known, so too did a strong stab of pain behind T’Pol’s eyes. She ignored the pain, surmising it was one of the many side affects she had been experiencing lately due to the Pa’nar Syndrome. Instead she chose to focus on the words being spoken by Commander Tucker.

“Nah, I'm not unhappy on the Enterprise. It’s just been a lousy week,” Trip explained, with his mouth full of food. When he was rewarded with only a raised eyebrow, Trip took that as his cue to continue.

Strange, how we’re learnin’ to communicate without even speakin’ sometimes, he mused.

“Well, the whole attack wasn’t good for anyone I guess. But it really messed up the engines and it’ll take a least two weeks to fix ‘em, but Jon wants ‘em done in five days. Impossible. But he says if we aren't up to Warp 5 by then, the Andorian-Vulcan peace treaty-“

“Most likely will not be signed, as they will not have Captain Archer as a negotiator,” T’Pol finished for him.

Trip nodded, taking another bite of the pie. “Yep,” he mumbled through his food. “And I certainly don’t wanna be the one responsible for preventin’ peace, ya know?”

T’Pol shook her head. “I have great faith in your capabilities, Commander. You are a very . . . competent . . . engineer,” she told him, taking a drink of her tea.

Trip looked at her in surprise. “Why, Sub-Commander, if I didn’t know better, I’d take that as a complement.”

“You may take it as such, if it pleases you. Is that all that has concerned you this week?” T’Pol inquired.

Still a bit off-guard due to T’Pol’s complement, Trip didn’t answer for a moment. When he did find his voice, however, he shook his head. “Nah, got stood up for a date too.”

T’Pol tried to suppress the jealously she felt twinge within her. She was not entirely successful.

“Hey, T’Pol, ya okay?” Trip asked, his voice full of concern. The normally reserved Vulcan had clutched her forehead and was visibly in pain.

“I . . . am . . . fine,” T’Pol stated. Her voice shook slightly though, betraying her words.

“Ya sure? Maybe ya should head to sickbay,” Trip asked, concerned.

“I am fine, Commander,” she replied, taking another drink of her tea. She did not wish to visit sickbay again. She had just visited there this morning and the unpleasant truth of the conversation she had experienced with Dr. Phlox still weighed somewhat heavily in the back of T’Pol’s mind.

“Um, okay, T’Pol. If you say so,” Trip said skeptically. “But ya don’t look okay. Ya hungry? Here, have some of the pie. I certainly don’t need it all.” With that, Trip pushed the plate and his fork closer to T’Pol.

T’Pol started to protest, as she did not require nourishment. T’Pol also had been avoiding pecan pie for the past month, as it had been causing her the most unpleasant sensation. Curiously, the pie had induced headaches very similar to the ones she had been experiencing tonight.

However, T’Pol had known Commander Tucker long enough to know the extent of his stubbornness and as T’Pol had been having her own rather bad week, she did not have the strength required to disagree with him. Instead, she picked up the fork gingerly and cut off a small sliver of the pie.

As she placed the morsel in her mouth, T’Pol felt an overwhelming agony inside her head. The last thing she heard before passing out was the frantic voice of one very worried Commander Tucker.

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Please R/R: It helps feed the muse. Parts I and II will eventually come together, I promise.

A/N: If anyone is wondering-I haven’t given up on And Baby Makes Four. The next part of that should be up by the end of the week. If a certain flighty muse co-operates.

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