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Mood Swing-Pt 17Mood Swing By Sue E-MAIL: susieqla@yahoo.com
Part 17
"Dismissed?" He looks wounded, as though a blast from my phase pistol, the setting a little higher than stun, has just lanced him. He's shocked too; even more than when I kissed him our first time. I mustn't weaken--I must be what I once was: T'Pol of Vulcan... strong, strong, tenable by sheer force of will. No adulteration. A paragon of unshakable convictions who succumbed all too easily. What was I thinking? My experimentation controls me...not I it, as it was at the beginning of my indulging. I'm a true addict, with no will of my own left, driven by riotous emotions gone wild. "Get out," I murmur, commanding myself not to snap, like the crack of a whip. The air crackles with raw emotions, his and mine... He hesitates, but finally turns and gets moving. The tables are turned, as he would say. He seems better equipped to handle this critical situation, far better than I. I cannot control myself...cannot summon the resolve...the ability to THINK-- At least I thought he left. I mistook the door's closing for his being on the other side of it. "I'll leave when I'm good and ready," he defies with a look of pugnacious tenacity aimed dead center at me. "You want me to leave so almighty bad, MAKE ME!" The commander, my would-be counselor, means well, and despite the profundity of my anger, I appreciate that. I'm not angry with him; I am angry with myself. Captain Archer's decision was stupid. I should have been the one to go, not he. I see the advice my lover wants so eagerly to bestow, the understanding he thinks I need, welling up within him. I stifle my gasp, feeling my eyes blur, rife with tears begging to be shed. *NO! NOT AGAIN!* I won't shed another one. *No...* I beg of myself. If there is any shred of self-control still left in me, I forbid becoming as they were! But...perhaps it is far too late... 'I'm sorry,' I grit out an apology amidst the turmoil that besets my unhinging mind. He mustn't see me like this, approaching my being no better than the paranoid, maniac Vulcans aboard the Seleya, my former appointment, who were poisoned by the insidiously seductive substance I've abused, rather than use as a control. Little did the commander know that when he told me the trellium was stored in the bio-hazard locker that I'd seek it out... using it in minute quantities in order to preserve my emotional reactions to limited exposure. As a scientist, I've utterly failed, and as a Vulcan... I'm a blink away from completely losing ALL restraint. "LEAVE ME," I hiss. I did not realize he had come nearer to the desk, didn't feel his hands on me. He dragging me to my feet and wrapping his arms around me. "Not on your life." It appears my human is made of sterner stuff than I routinely give him credit for. "Please...I." I order myself to ignore the pleasing comfort his embrace lends, but I meld with it, clearly not myself at all, and more than I could have ever hoped to have been. He may believe I used him, but I never meant to. I began using what was forbidden, knowing full well what its use could entail, and ultimately cost me, but, regardless of the risk, I was determined to succeed, so perhaps others might too. Maybe I should have told him everything after I was more sure of his feelings. But if I had, he might have felt used then, and I would be disgraced in his eyes. Could he ever trust me again? What he thinks about me still matters, it always has, though I diligently strove to make it appear otherwise. His opinions are important; that will never change. "Take a few deep breaths," he advises; his chin propped up upon my shoulder reminds me that he means well. Sadly, impossibly, I have much to answer for... "Now a few more, and relax. You're tenser than a steel drum, sug--" He doesn't finish because he knows I do not like being referred to as a substance added to beverages to sweeten them. Mindlessly, I obey and achieve a greater measure of calmness, far more than when I came in here to escape their honed scrutiny, their suffocating waiting upon my next command. My illogical, consistently intuitive lover making so much sense. I, slavishly reduced to an over reactive simpleton, well, nearly. At least, on the verge of breaking down, I had the better sense to flee. "Here, let me help..." He tries turning me around so my back will face him, but I refuse to budge. Resourcefully, he works around what he calls my stubbornness, letting me remain as I am, slabbed flush against him. His hands methodically track along my spine, and armed with the practice they have been schooled in, seek my pressure points. I yearn for, then find healing and reassurance in his touch. Some stability... Over these several months, he has become quite good. And he would say it's because he had a great teacher, literally, in both senses. If he knew how addicted I am to the addictive, would he still want me? Hold me in esteem? I am damaged, perhaps beyond repair... "Better?" "The lowest vertebra as well..." "Sure thing." Of the many things I admire about him, and more since our coming together, his alacrity to please, bordering on there being no thought involved, amazes me even during this extreme hour of crisis. He repeats every placement to pressured perfection. I release the breath when he tells me to exhale, ending the effective exercise, and his arms encircle my body to embrace me, a second time. I won't embrace him so he hugs me tighter until he must sense I'm not the crazy woman who just screamed at him. "I let my pessimism get the better of me when I said what I did before. There's a chance he could make it back, ya know, despite his dire predictions before he left. It's slim to none, but you know ol' cap'n. Against all odds never stopped him before. I'm bettin' he takes out their weapon with him in one piece, don't ask me how, then hightails it back here where he belongs." I nod against his shoulder, using the fabric of his uniform to absorb a drip of telltale moisture that managed to escape my eye. I feel the tip of his pointy nose nuzzle my right earlobe before he kisses it. "You care about him too. Don'tcha think I know that? Read you, remember?" He puffs soft breaths in my ear. I frown. He didn't sound jealous. Quite the opposite, as though he's proud; it's only right I should. "So, darlin', ya know what you're gonna do?" I ease away from him, with dry eyes, staring deeply into his matchless ones which are an azure color of smoked glass for as long as it takes to convince me that I don't have to face any of this alone. "You're not the lettin' folks down type. Don't start now. See ya out there." He spins around as though being struck by another pearl of wisdom. "And we're not just countin' on you, T'Pol. We're countin' on each other. Forgettin' that's just wrong." And then he leaves, as though I kicked him out, but with a satisfied smile on his face. A smile I've come to look for, not thinking twice. In the privacy of my thoughts, it is no longer shameful admitting to myself how much I prize this man. The only human I've ever come to...love. Damaged beyond repair...but I shirk that possible reality off, knowing I have work to do. As long as I am partially in my right mind, I will succeed. I was deceived, made faulty decisions; I'm a betrayer, having been deluded that through my efforts, I might help stave off cataclysm. You self-assuming fool!!! The captain must return, there is no middle ground. The entire reason for my choosing to remain with this crew is bound up in him. Even if he has somehow suffered capture, I'll rescue him, no looking back. My life is forfeit. "I'm sorry, Trip...I never meant to hurt you...or...him...any of you." Your friendships are true. I never understood--until now!
Have a comment to make about this story? Do so in the Trip Fan Fiction forum at the HoTBBS! Two folks have made commentsWOW! Packs a powerful punch - great work, Sue! I'm with Love that Trip. Packs a punch. That was great. I'm really anxious to see Damage, but afraid to see what T'Pol has to reveal. She's my #2 character (behind Trip of course) and I don't want to see there be anything wrong with her, well not wrong with her, but, you know what I mean. |