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To Have Learned Nothing At All- Ch 8

Author - Samantha Quinn
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To Have Learned Nothing At All

By Samantha Quinn

Spoilers: Refers to “Cogenitor” rather profusely.
A/N: Keep in mind, this is an A/U universe, where “Harbinger” never happened. Trip and T’Pol returned from the Expanse with increased feelings for each other, but did not act upon them.
As always thanks to KP and HN for the beta.

Chapter 8

Cloudy Skies

~~~

Shrugging out of his shirt, Trip glanced at the bed with a great deal of trepidation. This was the fourth night he had spent on the colony and if the past three had been any indication, he was in for a rough night and little sleep. He’d hoped that the dream with Lizzy and T’Pol would start a trend in which he would finally start to have good dreams for a change, but since they had left the Enterprise, the nightmares had returned.

Not for the first time, he wondered if he had grown too dependent upon the neuro-pressure sessions.

Sliding into bed, exhaustion overcame his overworked body and, hoping for a more peaceful sleep, Trip again fell into an uneasy slumber.

~~~

“Commander Tucker?”

“Charles?”

Someone was calling his name. Glancing vigorously around him, Trip was dismayed to discover the fog surrounding him, making it impossible for him to see his own hands in front of him, much less the person calling for him.

The yell was getting louder, the person more frantic. As the voice rose, Trip recognized it immediately.

“Charles?”

It was T’Pol. Taking a careful step forward in the fog, Trip jerked back as a tree branch scratched him across the face.

Jerking his hand up to wipe the blood from his face, Trip’s actions were halted as T’Pol called his name out again, with renewed urgency, “Charles?!”

She was shouting for him. T’Pol didn’t shout. It wasn’t Vulcan-like to shout. Raising his hands above his face, Trip swiped in vain at the fog in front of him, in a effort to move the offending debris out of his way, as he began to walk determinedly in the direction he assumed T’Pol was calling from.

“Trip? Where are you? Why won’t you answer?” T’Pol was definitely frantic now.

Waving his hands a couple inches in front of him as he went, Trip broke into a run, determined to find her, regardless of the cost. Several times he stumbled and fell, but he continued, his determination only increasing with each additional shout from T’Pol. Her cries became more and more desperate- bordering on sobs. The sound of T’Pol so close to hysteria terrified Trip, and he redoubled his efforts to escape the fog.

The fog was gone. In its place were green grass, a cloudless blue sky, and vivid sunlight. There was no T’Pol. Panic seized Trip, and he turned around quickly to head the direction he came from, certain he’d gone the wrong way.

As he turned back towards the fog, however, he was dismayed to discover that the fog had hardened into a solid wall.

Trip was trapped in the sunny paradise, separated from, and he could hear her voice no more.

~~~

Trip awoke with his heart pounding. It took several moments of utter terror and deep breathing before he remembered where he was, and the real reason he was separated from T’Pol.

“Trip?”

Rising up on his elbows, Trip glanced towards the doorway to see a very concerned Malcolm Reed staring at him intently. “Yeah, Malcolm?”

“I don’t mean to pry, but I heard you shouting. Are you all right?”

Malcolm’s concerned tone soothed Trip slightly, enough so that he was able to tell Malcolm that he was fine without it being too large of a lie.

As the lieutenant turned and went back to his room, Trip couldn’t help but feel envious of all the sleep the other man would be getting. Try as he might, Trip knew sleep would not come again. *But then, would I want it to, considering the dreams I’ve been having?*
No, Trip decided. Definitely not.
Glancing at the chronometer on the wall, Trip sighed as he realized that his next check-in wasn’t for another five hours. The nightmares felt so astonishingly real that Trip frequently needed a reminder that T’Pol was safe. Happily, T’Pol had always been on the bridge when he had reported for a check in. It made it very convenient for him to make certain she was all right.

*If T’Pol heard you say that, she’d call you an illogical, irrational human being,* Trip thought to himself.

*And I’d give anything to hear her say it in person right now.*

Trip had a sneaky, illogical suspicion that it might even help with the nightmares.

**********^^^^^^^^^^^^***********

The next morning was the fifth day of the away team’s mission, and it marked five days with five hours of sleep for T’Pol. Typically, Vulcans could go up to two weeks with little or no sleep. For reasons she was unable to discern, however, the five days had left her physically drained. In addition, she was having severe difficulty controlling her mental state. She was experiencing definite sensations of panic and distress whose presence she did not understand.

It was for this reason that she found herself in sickbay before her shift began.

“Hmm.” Phlox murmured distractedly as he ran the scanner over her. “There are definite hormonal upswings, T’Pol, but nothing I wouldn’t contribute to a considerable lack of sleep or disturbing dreams.”

“You can find nothing wrong with me?” T’Pol asked in disbelief. *Surely there must be something. There must be some explanation for why I am having such difficulty with control.*

Phlox shook his head in his characteristically cheerful manner. “No, there’s nothing physically wrong with you.”

“What of the Pa’Nar Syndrome?” she questioned. “Has it shown any signs of progression?”

“No. On the contrary, it seems to have improved significantly since the last time you were in sickbay.” Seeing T’Pol’s brows furrow in a gesture which demonstrated considerable confusion, Phlox prodded gently, “Perhaps you could describe more accurately some of the other reactions you have been having of late.”

“In addition to being unable to meditate effectively, my sleep has been severely disrupted. I also have been experiencing considerable sensations of alarm when there is no cause for it. Such outbursts of illogical and unwanted emotions are unnecessary and counterproductive.” *And not appropriate for a Vulcan.*

Phlox paused before answering and T’Pol was certain she knew agitation in that moment. Again, she could not help but wonder if Soval was correct in his assessment.

“T’Pol, you have described yourself as having sensations of alarm and unable to sleep as well as having moments of physical discomfort which seem mostly to drain you of your energy, but have no concrete medical purpose for existing. Is that a correct summation of your condition?”

T’Pol nodded.

“Then in my professional medical opinion, T’Pol, you are suffering from nothing more severe than loneliness.”

T’Pol mentally recoiled at the idea. “That is impossible, Doctor.”

“T’Pol, we both know that Vulcans experience emotions as much as-“

“I do not deny the existence of such an emotion,” T’Pol interjected. “I have . . . experienced something kindred to it before. Regardless, it did not have the same effects.”

Phlox smiled at her kindly. “Perhaps you’ve never had a reason for it to be quite that strong before. Have you had sufficient reason for such a strong experience recently?”

“No.” Even to her own ears, the denial came too quickly, and with excessive force.

“T’Pol,” Phlox said patiently, “I cannot help you if you are not more forthcoming.”

Had she been human, she would have frowned at him. Being Vulcan she could only furrow her brows and inwardly recite a mantra of Surak. Surak’s mantra did help calm her and enable her to answer the Denobulan. “You have already indicated that you do not believe my condition to be a medical problem. Therefore, I have no reason to believe you could ease my discomfort, even if I were more forthcoming.” With that, she turned and promptly walked out of sickbay.

On the way to the bridge, she attempted to classify the nature of her panic. The other symptoms she understood, as well as any Vulcan could understand such emotionalism, but the sense of panic puzzled T’Pol. While she was contemplating, Ensign Sato joined her in the turbolift.

*Perhaps Ensign Sato can be of assistance.* “Ensign Sato, am I correct in assuming you are experiencing loneliness during Lieutenant Reed’s time on the planet?”

Looking a bit startled, the younger woman flushed but nodded. “Yes, T’Pol, you’d be correct in assuming that.”

“Have you experienced any uncomfortable side affects from this loneliness?”

Hoshi looked at her with a confused expression. “Well, loneliness is never pleasant, T’Pol,” she pointed out. “Did you have something specific in mind?”

“Have you experienced any sense of . . . panic?”

Hoshi cocked her head to the left, as she considered the answer. “Well, I don’t know if it’s panic, but when I feel the loneliest, there’s a feeling of ‘Oh, God, what if they don’t come back.’ It’s silly in most cases, but given the circumstances on the planet, well, I’d almost say it’s justified here.”

“Indeed.” *It is justified for a human,* T’Pol’s inner voice hastily corrected.

^^^^^^*********^^^^^^^

“So, what book did T’Pol want to read?” Malcolm asked Trip casually as they walked to breakfast. They had been invited to dine with the colonists and given that no additional repairs could be made until Anders could determine what exactly was causing the disturbances on the planet, they had decided to attend.

The armory officer bit back a laugh at the look he received in reply. It was a combination of shock, horror, and anger, with a tad bit of guilt. Surely only Trip could have pulled it off effectively. “Oh, come, now. With all the rumors about the two of you, you didn’t expect me not to know who you were talking about, did you?”

Trip’s expression turned into a scowl. “I told ya, Malcolm, there isn’t anything-“

“Yes, I know,” Malcolm mocked gently. “She’s just helping you sleep. But as we already determined, clearly she wants something a bit more intimate. So, what book did she want to read?”

Noticing his friend’s distinct discomfort, and deep blush, Malcolm prodded, “Why are you so embarrassed? It wasn’t a piece of . . . erotica, was it?”

“NO!” Trip snapped – very loudly, by Malcolm’s estimation. *Serves you right for not answering my question.*

Trip continued to express his outrage at Malcolm’s question. “This is T’Pol we’re discussin’, for cryin’ out loud, Malcolm. She wouldn’t . . . couldn’t. . . she’s a Vulcan, Malcolm. They don’t have porn!”

Malcolm again allowed himself a chuckle. “How do you know that? Have you and T’Pol discussed it?”

“NO! I most certainly have not. . . I’m not havin’ this conversation with ya, Malcolm Reed. You’re a sick, sick man.”

Malcolm cast a long sideways glance towards his friend, saw the harried expression and reddened cheeks, and decided perhaps the man had endured enough teasing. *For now.* Thoughts of possible future ways to harass his friend were cut short by Trip’s low, appreciative whistle. “What is it?”

The engineer gestured to the bridge in front of them. “Look at that. It’s incredible.”

“It’s impressive all right,” Malcolm agreed. “Hmm.”

Trip cast a sideways look at his friend. “What is it?”

“That structure looks distantly familiar, somehow. I know I’ve never seen it on Earth, but still. . . " Malcolm shook his head with a slight feeling of frustration.

Turning his attention back to the structure in front of them, Trip wrinkled his nose in concentration. “Well, it’s definitely more advanced than anything we have on Earth. But it doesn’t feel familiar to me. Where do you think you’ve seen it before? On one of the planets we visited? According to what the Captain told us about these people, that’s impossible.”

“I know,” Malcolm agreed. After all, what would a xenophobic society be doing with alien technology? The armory officer shrugged it off as he and Trip continued their trek. The men were midway through the glass structure when Malcolm realized just where he had seen the structure before.

“The Vissians!” he exclaimed excitedly. Too late he remembered that the Vissians were sore spot with his friend. Malcolm’s reminder of that fact came in the form of a scowl overtaking Trip’s features and the downward glance of Trip’s blue eyes. *How long do you intend to keep feeling guilty over that one mistake?* Malcolm wondered sorrowfully. Mortified at his own lack of sensitivity, Malcolm hastened to explain, “That’s where I’ve seen the bridge before. Veylo showed it to me after. . . er, after we toured the armory.”

“She showed you pictures of her home world’s bridges?” Trip asked in confusion.

It was Malcolm’s turn to look uncomfortable. “No. . . she showed me a picture of a specific restaurant,” he mumbled.

Trip’s frown of confusion only deepened. “Random. . . pictures of restaurants on her home world?”

“Yes.”

“Malcolm. . . why? I thought the two of you spent the whole time discussing various tactical maneuvers.”

*As though I was supposed to tell you otherwise, given the way your encounter with the Vissians turned out?* Malcolm wondered to himself. Discussing Veylo with Trip would not only have been ungentlemanly – not that Veylo’s culture probably put much stock in such old fashioned sentiments – but potentially hurtful to Trip. And that wasn’t something Malcolm would ever consciously do. “We were discussing maneuvers,” he hastily explained. “She said that if I was ever in the neighborhood, I should drop by and we could have dinner and discuss the maneuvers in greater . . . detail.”

Again, Trip’s face fell. “Well, given the way the Vissian encounter ended, Malcolm, I’d say that it’s highly unlikely they’ll allow any humans to come within hailin’ distance of their home world. Besides, even if Earth has developed diplomatic relations in the time we’ve been away, from what we know of these people, they wouldn’t use that technology.”

“Well, perhaps you’re right,” Malcolm agreed, in an effort to appease his friend. “Perhaps the human race has simply advanced this far in the time we’ve been in the Expanse.”

The rest of their journey was a silent one, and Malcolm inwardly cursed himself for bringing up the unpleasant topic of the Vissians. When they neared the dining hall, Officer Hogan came into view. The third man’s cheerful grin and warm personality were a welcome change to the mood.

“Is everything all right, Malcolm?” Hogan asked once they came into hearing range. “I noticed you and Trip stopped for several moments on the bridge.”

“Ah, yes, we were simply admiring the technology used to construct it,” Malcolm assured him.

“It is impressive, isn’t it?” Hogan agreed, beaming at him. “Those Vissians are good architects, aren’t they?”

~~~

To Be Continued. . .


Continue to Chapter 9


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Half a dozen of you have made comments

Love the growing realization by T'Pol that her separation from Trip is the cause of her malady. I also lov your characterization of Malcolm and Trip's relationship. Great dialogue. More please.

I am really enjoying this, and Vissians? Uh oh. The knowledge that both Trip and T'Pol are suffering from being separated is heartwarming and I can't wait to see where you take this story next! Ali D :~)

I love this. I hadn't read this story before, I just now noticed it, I checked the fic page and this chapter, among others, was there. So I decided to read it. I started from the first chapter, and I didn't remember what chapter had been on the fic page. So I get to this part, and that's it. I was like: noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!! But I guess I'll be ok, if you write quickly, very quickly!

Here´s another: I love this!!

But I think there´s trouble coming: "T’Pol had always been on the bridge when he had reported for a check in." Oh, oh!

When's the next update?

awesome story.