Mood Swing-Pt 18

Mood Swing

By Sue

E-MAIL: susieqla@yahoo.com

RATING: PG
CATEGORY: Angst
SPOILERS: “Damage”
ARCHIVE: Yes
DISCLAIMER: Enterprise is the property of Paramount and its subsidiaries. No profit is being made.
SUMMARY: T'Pol POV

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Part 18

I want these emotions...I own these emotions...I want these emotions...I own...I...want...

In acute frustration, I bunch up the debris-soiled bedding of my battered bunk, my hands like clamps.

I OWN NOTHING--THEY OWN ME!! I feel powerless to undo what I have willfully done all due to my obsession.

More useless shedding of tears I have no recourse but to shed. The first time I cried was for our sacrificial captain. I shed more, in the privacy of my wrecked quarters owed to his safe, although harrowing return. It is still unclear why his captors released him.

Now, my tears are for me and my insidious loss of self-control. My utter failure to keep "Enterprise" safe from harm likewise plagues me. If Soval could see me now...my mother and father... Would shame impel them to disavow their ever knowing me? I can answer that, but I won't. I feel enough shame for every man, woman and even the youngest neophyte on my homeworld.

I am no longer Vulcan; I am nobody. I'm bereft; I have no dignity. I envy Porthos, who somehow survived while others perished in the attack. Maybe the furry quadruped has more intelligence that I never credited him for. Who is ruled by a ruthless addiction? Who is drowning in an ocean of rapid-firing emotions? Anyone with even the meagerest intellect be the judge.

I roll onto my side, gnashing my fist against my teeth, biting down hard until the keen taste of my own blood seeps into my mouth. Every fiber of my being screams out for Trellium-D, but I mustn't succumb; not again--I must be strong for everyone...for him, my undaunted, blond intimate companion whom I have misled. But most of all, I must redeem myself; if I fail myself by weakening again, what hope is there for me?

After what has felt like an eternity, I fall asleep. The debacle of not having dignity, I chant in an ancient Vulcan dialect, the language of the early sages. In my mind's eye, Surak's tome becomes a millstone around my neck. In conjunction with his mentor, he urges me to hurl myself into a turbulent sea while they impassively look on from the distant shoreline.

I hesitate, and not raising their voices, they serenely state I will ultimately find peace. Surak’s mentor, sounding very much like Soval, informs me that no sacrifice is too great in the way of transcendent fulfillment.

But HE strongly disagrees. He is naked, standing in the soaking jets of the shower. The beauty of his body lures me. My enamored commander scrutinizes me with those coolly serene blue eyes of his and I melt. He extends his sinewy arms out to me; no verbal invitation is offered. None is needed.

I meld with him, and rawly he murmurs into the flesh of my shoulder, "I can't get enough of ya naked, baby!" Before turning me around to face him, he massages my neck thoroughly, then proceeds to nibble his torturing way clear to the tip of my left ear. His lips speak of his greed, and his skilled tongue laps against all the points he knows drive me 'crazy,' as he loves to exaggerate. But, he doesn't exaggerate; I just say he does. He doesn't. He crazes me...over and over again. I crave everything he forces me to feel. It is all so new, so intoxicating! I'll never be sated...

While his rough, relentless hands ravage my body and stoke my soul, he feeds my hunger. He is best like this, demanding, heedless, selfish. The way humans 'make love,' as they term it, and this human in particular, is becoming equally addictive.

And it isn't enough; I want even more. More and more, it must never end! I won't let it! I want him more wanton, more like me, but I can feel how he holds back. He infuriates me!

*NOOOO*

The feeble human isn't giving me what I want! He is weak and all the molten passion I feel for him churns within me and my blood flows through me like lava. Desperately, I shove him back against the slick wall, then rush him, sealing my lips over his like a hermetic seal.

He trembles now, but not from sexual frenzy. He fears--he fears me, and his fear demands he cast me away. He propels me, but since I am stronger, the exertion saps his strength. I despise him and his weakness. With an all-consuming hatred, I pounce upon him, bent on choking the very life out of his impotent body.

I DETEST WEAKNESS!

Before snapping his neck clean, violently, I shiver awake, hungrier than ever,
but not for my feeble lover whom I wanted to murder for his worthlessness. A nightmare! I shiver hard again, fully cognizant now, and consequently appalled of how indeed I wanted to kill Char--'Trip.' Killing him was my sole desire. I am horrified, and sick with shame!

I curl into a ball upon my freezing bunk and hug myself so tightly, I feel the pulse in my legs. Oh, please, someone--anyone--save me. Save me from myself and my nightmares--my demented, phantasmic perceptions. Why have I let this happen? WHY?

TRELLIUM-D--I crave it like never before, and I will have it! I won't rest until its seductive splendor, its matchless power to soothe yet incite, fondles my tortured 'katra.' I'll do *anything* to get it!

Its sensuous, emotions-expanding splendor is life itself. It, as my alleviator, is the only palliative I need.

I said I'd do anything, and I did, which involved nearly killing myself. I prepare the injector and administer the volatile derivative. This is the highest dosage I've ever allowed myself. I keep my eyes pasted closed as the astounding effects of the altered Trellium-D take hold. My eyes flutter frantically beneath their lids, as does my heart in the pit of my chest which burns, but with an unnatural fire.

In the back of my mind the nagging thought molests me again, but this time, I heed what it's been trying to get through to me since starting down this all too unstable path...

"I must tell Phlox," I advise myself, aloud.

"Why tell him? You know you don't want to," my irrational makeup, with more of a mind of its own due to this dalliance, complains like a whining child.

"This is not who I am, what I'm meant to be."

The rationale silences the whiner, but for how long?

I think about 'Trip' as another tear begins gliding down my cheek, and I let it, now free to since the derivative modulates my responsive feelings. I will never hate him, but he hating me is inevitable, I bitterly pass judgment. Yet, hoping against hope, I yearn for him to understand.

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Four of you have made comments

great addition, please continue!!

Oh Wow, poor T'Pol! She needs to be with Trip, HAS to be with him. Somehow they can get through this together but never apart. Sigh. Excellent, keep going, keep enthralling us with added insights. Many thanks, Ali D :~)

Ehh, writers of the show still avoid the inevitable. The confrontation between Trip and T'Pol is a necessity. He was the first to notice something was wrong with her when others didn't. He knows or rather 'feels' her like no one else. Even the captain is clueless. It took a smashed pad to bring his attention to her for more than a second and even then he seemed satisfied with a shallow lie he received in respond. Well, the mission is more important of course. Like Phlox said - next days won't be easy for her... will she ask Trip to rescue her? Who can if not he? There's been too many lies, it's time to clear things up and say what needs to be said.

Great job, as always, Sue. I love the touch at the end where she thought of him as Trip, rather than Cmdr. Tucker, or Charles. I think with that touch you said a lot with very little.

~Rogue