Consequences- Part 3

Consequences

By Samantha Quinn

Rating: Right now: PG-13. Will be R later, Romance
All disclaimers in part 1

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Part 3

A/N: Hey-I paid homage to Dr. McCoy in this passage. (Well, Answers had Kirk and Spock. Bones was feeling neglected.) Happy points to anyone who figures out where it is. Asterisks denote thought.

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T’Pol slowly opened her eyes and immediately regretted doing so. The lights in sickbay greatly aggravated an already agonizing headache.

“Hey, T’Pol, you’re awake,” she heard the familiar southern accent beside her. Trip turned his head briefly to yell, “Hey, Doc! She’s awake!”

In spite of herself, T’Pol winced in pain at the sound of Trip’s elevated decimal level. “Please, Commander, lower your voice,” she whispered softly. The sound of her own voice caused her accelerated pain as well. With a sigh, T’Pol closed her eyes and took two deep breaths in an attempt to control the pain.

“Aw, geez, I’m sorry, T’Pol,” Trip whispered. “How ya feelin’?” he asked, continuing to speak softly.

T’Pol knew that if she lived to see three hundred years, she would never ceased to be amazed by this human. There were times when T’Pol was convinced that Commander Tucker was determined to be an insensitive and irrational being. At other times, Commander Tucker seemed determined to prove that assertion false. Now seemed very likely to be one of those times. Although he made no attempt to hide his typical jubilance at sparring with T’Pol and frequently jumped at the opportunity to do the exact opposite of what she asked, he had just demonstrated the ability to ascertain that now would be an inappropriate time to do so.

“Vulcans do not feel, Commander Tucker,” she responded in reply to his question. Surprisingly, the engineer laughed in response.

“Well, ya must be feeling much better if ya’re feelin’ up to disagreein’ with me,” Trip remarked.

“I would not disagree with you, Commander Tucker, if you would not insist on demonstrating such illogical behavior when it is obvious you are capable of logical cognitive processes,” she replied.

“Yep, back to your feisty Vulcan self,” Trip laughed before pausing to consider the full impact of what she had just said. “Hey-did ya just admit that I’m capable of logical thought?” he asked.

Unwilling to admit to her slip, or more importantly, unwilling to face the ramifications of her slip, T’Pol deftly ignored his question and responded with one of her own. “ ‘Feisty’, Commander?”

Dr. Phlox, who had been patiently observing the interaction between the human and the Vulcan, decided that this would be a good moment to make his presence known. Although he was certain that Commander Tucker and Sub-Commander T’Pol were engaged in some type of bizarre human and Vulcan pre-mating rituals, as a physician Dr. Phlox did not believe T’Pol’s delicate condition would allow for such activities.

“Ah, Sub-Commander, I see you’re awake!” he greeted by way of announcing his presence. Although he kept his voice as cheerfully optimistic as always, he did lower it respectfully in light of the headache the Sub-Commander was having.

In light of recent events, Phlox was finding it difficult to remain optimistic.

“Greetings, Doctor,” T’Pol said by way of greeting. Turning to face Trip, she said, “Commander Tucker, do your duties not require you elsewhere?”

“Gee, T’Pol, you’re welcome,” Trip grumbled sarcastically.

“For what occasion do you believe you are owed a ‘thank you’, Commander Tucker?” inquired T’Pol. I have overestimated his logical abilities, she thought to himself. He is every bit as irrational as I have been lead to believe on prior occasions.

“Well, let’s see-after ya pulled you’re little passin’ out trick in the Mess Hall, how do ya suppose ya got here? Think ya floated in?” Trip retorted. The redness which had started behind his ears and was now encroaching upon his cheeks was the only sign that the Commander was angry. Although difficult, he still managed to keep his tone hushed, out of respect for the pain T’Pol was in.

“I did not intend to cause you any inconvenience, Commander,” T’Pol replied, her own voice elevated slightly.

Trip’s mouth dropped open momentarily. *Good job, Tucker*, he chastised himself. *God knows what’s wrong with the woman and here ya are just makin’ it worse. That’s gotta put me up at the top of the list for ‘Bastard of the Year’ honors.* “Ya didn’t cause me any inconvenience, T’Pol . . .I . . . was not expectin’ a thank ya for bringin’ ya here,” he explained sheepishly, his voice even softer than it had been a moment before.

“Then what exactly did you expect, Commander?” was T’Pol’s own cryptic reply.

Tucker’s face hardened, and his mouth transformed from a friendly smile into an unfriendly line. “Nothin’, Sub-Commander. Nothin’ at all,” he retorted before turning sharply and stomped out of sickbay.

T’Pol allowed her gaze to linger only momentarily on the Commander’s retreating form before turning to face the doctor. Raising slowly into a sitting position, she met the physician’s gaze and asked simply, “Am I to surmise that my fainting spell is yet another side affect of the Pa’nar Syndrome?”

Phlox frowned slightly which was rare for the cheerful little man. But no physician likes to feel helpless when it came to curing their patients, and helpless was exactly what Phlox was feeling. Shaking his head, Phlox sighed. “I don’t think so, Sub-Commander.”

Phlox was rewarded with a raised eyebrow. He had grown rather fond of that gesture. He could only hope it was one he would continue to see for some time.

But of that he was not certain.

“I’ve been monitoring your brain wave activities since the commander brought you in,” Phlox paused slightly to remember the frantic look on Commander Tucker’s face and the sound of absolute terror that had been present in his voice. Calling it “emotional” was an understatement. “The portion of your brain that is being affected currently is the medial insula. Essentially, the section of your brain responsible for so called ‘gut impulses.’”

“While your definition is effective but crude, Doctor, it is entirely unnecessary. I am the Science Officer. I am familiar with that section of the brain,” T’Pol told the Denobulan.

“Then you are also aware that this area of the brain is not typically affected by the Pa’nar Syndrome,” Phlox remarked. At T’Pol’s slight nod, he continued, “I am not certain exactly why you have increased brain activity in this area. I need to know what sensations you may have been experiencing prior to your attack.”

T’Pol furrowed her eyebrows slightly. “I had been experiencing acute amounts of discomfort in my frontal lobe region.” She tilted her head slightly and remarked, “The medial insula is in the midbrain region, Doctor. If I had been experiencing accelerated activity in that region, why did the discomfort present itself in the frontal portion of the brain?”

“I don’t know, Sub-Commander. What were you doing at the time the headaches occurred?”

“I was conversing with Commander Tucker when I collapsed,” T’Pol replied stoically.

“Yes, Sub-Commander, I realize that. What were you conversing about? Is there anything in your conversation that may have triggered your headaches?”

“No,” T’Pol said quickly. Too quickly. Phlox sighed and wondered if there were any patients in the universe as obstinate as Vulcans. While Phlox respected the values Vulcans placed on privacy, he did not appreciate his patient keeping material from him which would help him in curing her.

“T’Pol, I would hope you know by now that as your physician, anything you say will remain in the strictest of confidence. I know Vulcans don’t like to discuss certain things with non-Vulcans, but I can’t help you if I don’t know all your symptoms.” He smiled his patented Phlox smile and added, “Come on, T’Pol, yield to the logic of the situation.”

*Logic often cannot be counted on in my dealings with Commander Tucker,* T’Pol thought to herself. *Frequently much more human emotions are responsible.* T’Pol was not willing to admit that to herself, much less anyone else. Still . . . Phlox had proven himself worthy of her trust in the past. And although death may be inevitable, T’Pol did not welcome the thought.

“Commander Tucker had made remarks which provoked great emotions within me, Doctor,” she said finally. She hastened to add, “Emotions that I would have normally been able to suppress quite easily, but when I attempted to do so, I experienced great . . . discomfort,” she finished.

“I see. Did you experience any additional discomfort during your last . . . ah, conversation with Commander Tucker? The one here in sickbay?” Phlox inquired.

“I did not. The headache I was experiencing was a lingering sensation. There were no additional feelings of discomfort,” T’Pol stated.

Then, apparently, the headaches were only caused by some emotions and not by others, Phlox deducted. Because certainly, that last little scene had enough emotion to share with the entire ship. “And is your conversation with Commander Tucker the only event that has triggered these headaches?” he wondered.

“No. I also experienced similar discomfort when I consumed pecan pie,” T’Pol admitted reluctantly. T’Pol’s copper was beginning to have the same affect on her skin as Tucker’s iron based counterpart had had moments earlier.

“Fascinating. I have found humans sometimes associate food with emotion. Does pecan pie have an association other than sustenance, Sub-Commander?”

T’Pol remembered a very similar conversation she had conducted with Commander Tucker two years prior. The memory ushered in an unwelcome feeling of warmth which prompted T’Pol to gasp in pain before she could properly identify which emotion it actually was.

When the sensation passed, she opened her eyes to see a very concerned Doctor Phlox. While T’Pol did not like to admit it, the sight of the typically optimistic alien physician frowning caused her a considerable amount of apprehension.

“I suppose that is a yes, Sub-Commander?” he asked, trying to make his voice sound light.

T’Pol could feel herself becoming agitated. “Is this conversation doing us any good, Doctor?” she asked.

“Truthfully, not a lot. I’ll let you get back to your work, Sub-Commander. However, I want to see you in exactly twenty-four hours. In that time, I want you to take note of each time you have an attack and which emotions trigger the attack. I’ll give you this hypospray so that you can help ease that accompanies them,” he added, handing her the hypospray.

T’Pol nodded in acknowledgment and slid the biobed. “Thank you, doctor,” she replied as she turned and headed out of sickbay.

“T’Pol, I’m not certain what this means in light of our conversation this morning-" Phlox started but was interrupted by T’Pol.

“I am well aware of the contents of our conversation this morning, Doctor. We do not need to have a duplicate conversation. As for what this current problem ‘means,’ that should be fairly obvious.” With that, the Vulcan turned and left, leaving the poor physician to his own musings.

*Yes, it should be fairly obvious. I just hope I’m wrong.* Phlox thought to himself.

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To Be Continued….

Please R/R….it does help feed the muse. And we do want to feed her, else she might get as irritable as a certain gremlin muse that currently isn’t co-operating on another story.

A/N, 2: Yes, I know-none of your questions have really been answered yet, have they? All in good time, all in good time.

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