Convergence

Convergence

by stub, with lots of help from Joe and Ruth

RATING: PG

SUMMARY: T’Pol tries to comfort Trip

DISCLAIMER: We don’t own jack crap. Anything to do with Star Trek is safely in the hands of Paramount, I would imagine.

AUTHOR’S NOTES: Don’t really have much clue at how the procedure is supposed to go, so I just made it up. My apologies if I’ve completely blown it. Both Joe and Ruth are Trek whores and *they* said it sounded good.

The door to the Executive Mess Area slid open and Commander Tucker stepped in. He had been moping around the ship for days, mourning the sudden loss of his father. He had gotten a transmission from his mother about his father’s death. From what T’Pol understood, there was an ongoing investigation and what little Commander Tucker knew, he kept it to himself. Humans needed closure with their loved ones’ deaths. She did not envy this necessity.

For the first time since receiving the news, the chief engineer had joined T’Pol and Captain Archer for dinner. However, the only way he would come near the mess was under a direct Captain’s order. He sat at the table, pushing his food around on his plate.

"Trip," said the captain. "Eat. That’s an order."

"Can’t," Trip mumbled.

T’Pol looked up from her meal and quietly studied the man across the table from her. He was slumped in his chair, his head resting on his fist, his food uneaten but rearranged. Trip’s eyes were red-rimmed, bordered with dark circles. His face was paler than usual. She concluded he hadn’t slept, either. He did not look healthy.

"You can’t work if you don’t eat," reasoned Archer. He was studying the engineer as well.

Trip’s head snapped up, scowling. "You gonna yank me from duty? The only thing I got right now is my work, Cap’n!"

"Then you’d better eat something if you’d like to continue your duties," replied Archer, not able to look Trip in the eye.

The Vulcan watched silently as Commander Tucker forced a few bites down. He appeared to look even sicker each time he chewed.

"Commander," she finally spoke up. "I am sorry for your loss but life continues. Death is a natural part of life. It is a logical and not unexpected conclusion."

Trip’s fork stopped midway to his mouth, his dark, angry eyes now focused on T’Pol. He dropped his utensil with a clatter and jumped up. Trip swept aside his plate, sending it flying and leaned forward on the table towards T’Pol.

"Is that your way of comfortin’ me? Who the hell do you think you are?" he spat. "There ain’t nothin’ natural about murder! My daddy’s life was *taken* from him!" He glared at Archer for a moment and then turned back to T’Pol. "You can take your goddamn logic and shove it up your cold Vulcan ass!!"

And with that Commander Tucker stormed out of the Captain’s mess. Archer looked at T’Pol and blinked.

"I..uh, I’m sure he didn’t mean that," Archer muttered. He pushed aside his own plate. Dinner was most certainly over.

"I’m sure he did mean it, Captain," said T’Pol, not looking up from her vegetables. "I was not aware of the circumstances surrounding his father’s death. I should not have said what I did. I perhaps deserved that outburst."

"I didn’t know either, T’Pol. Don’t beat yourself up about it," said Archer. "He was close to his father. Being out here, away from his family during this time is rough on him. Humans say stuff they don’t mean in the heat of passion. He just needs some time."

"Indeed," was all she said. Rising from her chair T’Pol politely excused herself and returned to her quarters.

As the flames danced in front of her, T’Pol thought back to the day she received news of her own grandfather’s death. She had just arrived in San Francisco. He was the only one in her family that did not oppose her Earth mission. In fact, it was her grandfather that had encouraged her to go in the first place. To the rest of her family, T’Pol was a disgrace. She had not been able to get a transport back to Vulcan to honor his death. It was perhaps easily one of the most difficult times in her life, torn between the immense sadness and the duty of suppressing it. T’Pol had strong affections for her grandfather and his death was devastating.

She sat now meditating, actually relating to Commander Tucker’s loss. T’Pol pitied him. There was, however, a twang of guilt that still pulled at her nerves. She had felt the urge to apologize to him grow more urgent throughout the evening. She had certainly not meant to offend him by the flippant comment she’d made earlier.

Her meditations were not going well and she found it to be nearly one in the morning. T’Pol was agitated and fidgety. It was then her door chimed.

"Come in," she called. T’Pol was more than a little surprised to see Commander Tucker step in.

"Hope I didn’t wake you," he mumbled, not looking her in the eye.

"Not at all," said T’Pol more calmly than she felt. "I have yet to attempt sleep tonight."

"I owe you a huge apology, T’Pol," said Commander Tucker. His head was bent down so he spoke into his chest. "I didn’t mean what I said at dinner. It was inexcusable and I don’t blame you if you hate me more than usual for it."

She looked up at him and said, "I do not hate you, Commander. My comments were out of line and it is I who wish to apologize to you. I did not understand the circumstances surrounding your father’s death. I did not intend to sound so callous."

Commander Tucker made eye contact then and T’Pol could see fresh tears rolling down his cheeks. He nodded, biting his quivering lower lip. "Just got another transmission from my mom. They found the guy that did it," he said in a raspy voice. He reached up, suddenly embarrassed, and impatiently wiped away his tears. "It’s little consolation. I’d feel better if I could wring that sonofabitch’s neck," he growled, taking a few steps forward.

"Would you like to sit?" T’Pol asked. She gestured to the pillow next to her on the floor. Commander Tucker paused for a moment, then slowly crept next to her. He settled himself onto the pillow and sighed heavily.

"I’m sorry," he said again. "I dunno what else to say, T’Pol."

"Perhaps I can help, if you will allow it," she said quietly. She shot him a sidelong glance. He was looking at her curiously.

"Do you trust me?" T’Pol asked.

Commander Tucker looked at her as if he’d never seen her before. "I do...I trust you," he said softly, a smile briefly touching his lips. He sounded just as surprised as she felt by this admission. Perhaps they weren’t so different after all.

She slid closer to him. "It is a technique used for Vulcans who are feeling an overwhelming amount of emotion. My grandfather taught me before he passed on."

T’Pol placed the fingertips of her right hand on his cheek, her left hand behind his neck. She instructed him to do the same to her and bent her head forward so that their foreheads were together.

"I should warn you this is a somewhat mentally invasive procedure," she said. "For both of us."

Commander Tucker nodded against her head and gave the back of her neck a gentle reassuring squeeze. "I got nothin’ to hide T’Pol. I trust you."

"Very well," conceded T’Pol. "You will need to concentrate on my voice. I will be chanting in Vulcan. Think of your father. It will bring the pain to the surface."

As her chanting began, she felt his brow furrow against hers. With her mind, T’Pol eased her way into his consciousness, gently probing. She searched out the thoughts that centered on his father. The flow of anguish she found there slammed into her, causing her to gasp. It disrupted the mantra for only a moment and T’Pol was able to focus again. She noted Commander Tucker’s hand had tightened on the back of her neck.

T’Pol felt a rush of warmth at the feelings surrounding his father. So many happy memories flooded her mind. Snippets here and there over the span of thirty years flashed before her like an old-fashioned slide show. So much laughter, so much love. She’d never been allowed to feel this way in her Vulcan upbringing.

And then T’Pol felt the stabbing pain again as the memory of the transmissions from Commander Tucker’s mother hit her. She tried to pull that pain out, absorb it into her self. She heard him exhale a shuddering breath, felt his grip on her neck loosen.

She had to send him calming energy. T’Pol thought of her grandfather, of how he always had a twinkle in his eye, of how he would always allow a smile for her, sometimes even a hug. She thought back to how much she admired this man, the only family member who loved her unconditionally.

They sat for an hour, head to head, mind to mind, heart to heart. The Vulcan absorbed some of the human’s pain, while the human absorbed the calm of the Vulcan.

T’Pol, feeling that she had reached a point of mutual exhaustion, stopped her chanting. Commander Tucker slowly pulled back. He looked straight into her eyes.

"T’Pol, what was that?"

"I relieved some of your pain," stated T’Pol. "So you may rest. You have not slept for days. I merely transferred energy from my mind to yours, and conversely from yours to mine."

"You make it sound so simple," he whispered. His thumb absently caressed her cheek. "I can tell that you loved your grandfather a great deal."

T’Pol only nodded, suddenly taken aback by the lump in her throat. She had not meant to allow him to see that. She’d only intended to transfer the peacefulness. The connection they’d shared was much stronger than she’d anticipated. Perhaps she had not mastered the art entirely.

"Why’d you do this, T’Pol? For me?"

She searched his face. Commander Tucker looked as tired as she felt. "Despite what you may think of me and my perceived lack of emotion Commander, I do feel. I understand your sorrow," she said. He nodded, knowing exactly what she meant. He leaned in and kissed her gently on the cheek.

"Thank you," he said softly, pulling back. They sat there for a moment, staring at each other. Commander Tucker blinked and shook his head. "Boy, that takes a lot outta ya." He paused as if he had something else to say to T'Pol. His mouth opened and closed. He sucked in his lower lip and bowed his head, shaking it one last time, a small smile playing at his lips.

Commander Tucker rose from his pillow and swayed wildly off balance. He could barely stand. T’Pol quickly got to her feet and steadied him. She gently pushed him towards her bed. He collapsed onto it without any questions.

"I owe you big, T’Pol," Commander Tucker said, his voice thick with fatigue. He regarded her through heavy lidded eyes that threatened to close without his permission.

T’Pol sat on the edge of her bed and looked at him. "You owe me nothing, Commander," she said gently. "Friends help each other in times of need."

She watched as his eyes opened just a bit more and a slow smile spread across his face.

"Your grand-daddy would be proud of you," Commander Tucker whispered, finally closing his eyes and letting the elusive slumber catch up to him.

She swung her feet up onto the bed and laid down next to him, one hand across her stomach, the other over her head. He rolled over towards her in his sleep, haplessly tossing an arm around her middle. T’Pol found his steady breathing on her neck and shoulder to be strangely comforting. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to relax.

Perhaps Commander Tucker was right. She has learned much from this human in such a short time. Her grandfather *would* be proud, she thought, as a tear escaped her closed lid and slid down her face, disappearing into the pillow.

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Four of you have made comments

Very touching.....

I loved this. It is so beautifully written and in such a way that I could imagine the characters acting in this fashion. I liked the way Trip discovered that T'Pol also carries grief and loss and feels just as much as he does but without the human ability to show it. And that touch at the end. So poignant and sweet. Thank you for a lovely story. Ali D :~)

Very, very nice work. Glad to have readit.

Lovely story, and it's stood the test of time well. Made me think of Lizzie's death and the scene with T'Pol comforting Trip -- the one where she puts her hand on his shoulder. I think I prefer your version.