Mood Swing-Pt 21

Mood Swing

AUTHOR: Sue
E-MAIL: susieqla@yahoo.com
RATING: PG-13
CATEGORY: Angst/Humor/Romance
SPOILERS: The Council
ARCHIVE: Yes, any and all.
DISCLAIMER: Enterprise is the property of Paramount and its subsidiaries. No profit is being made.
SUMMARY: Missing scenes...

Part 21

Of course she was acting strangely, attentive to him one minute, cold to him the next. Hoshi, the perceptive young woman that she was, had put it very succinctly when she thought T'Pol couldn't possibly hear from where she'd been sitting... "Whiplash."

T'Pol could hear from one end of the mess hall clear to the other with it filled to capacity if she chose to hone in on a conversation in particular.

Of all men from which to choose, she had to have feelings for the most emotional man on two legs. His emotions were running off the scopes, these days, but hers weren't any better.

His latest hobby had become hammering her with: "Hey, I'm an emotional guy. What's *your* excuse?" which only goaded her to react emotionally, although any manifestations of his effect on her were meticulously hidden from his flashing eyes.

What lovely eyes, T'Pol never stopped herself from thinking every time they nailed hers. These emotions would be her ruler if she didn't get the upper hand, and soon. The question was, did she want to gain that upper hand, when all was said and done?

The commander relished telling her what he was so often enough, always giving special emphasis to his being that emotional guy whose mouth was off and running before his brain caught up.

But his apologies, and he would spring them on her when she least expected
them, were worth his weight in Trellium.

It wasn't only his being emotional, it was to the degree he was. It was flinchingly obvious that he could get highly emotional over anything, practically. Starfleet spec-approved Y-L bolts could even be used as an example. If they got the least bit scored due to a tech's forgetfulness that they, unlike other more basic bolts, needed to be tightened counterclockwise, the commander had been known on more than a few occasions to blow like
Vesuvius.

Certain assistant engineers lived in the 'hall of shame,' all credit going to Tucker, the stickler, who considered any lapse of that nature a major failing. It was hardly as serious as, say, cross-ventilating Anculus manifolds.

Now *that* was grounds for a court-martial, chief engineer style.

The phrase, 'Wearing one's heart on one's sleeve' had to have been coined for Tucker-types. Movie Night had become his proving ground, when life aboard Enterprise had more normalcy. The way he'd carried on at them, some crew members had gotten into the weekly habit of making bets on how long it would take him to 'lose it.'

T'Pol understood that many of the 'big winners' were key players on his staff.

These and assorted other incidents had left indelible impressions on T'Pol's memory. These were just the sort of memories that mainlined her emotions.

For all that he thought he knew about Vulcans, especially this one whom he was involved with, he still had volumes to learn, and she never missed her chance to tell *him* so. She had grown found of 'educating' him.

"An emotional guy," indeed; she'd known that from day one, and, regardless, she'd become hooked--on him--first! The craving need for Trellium-D had reared
its ugly head later, only because it had been a means to an end.

She wanted these feelings, now, more than ever, had risked everything to tap into them, but controlling them was the clincher.

So...T'Pol turned over in her mind for the umpteenth time, what *was* she going

to do? He had provoked these strong emotions in her, leaving her feeling 'all over the place,' as she'd heard Travis use the expression, and judged it fit her description as well.

The commander could be her outlet, but the thought still filled her with limiting anxiety.

Despite the pragmatic advice she'd been given, T'Pol never stopped analyzing what every waking moment had now become...a paradox. That was the only word that adequately summed up what she faced on a routine basis whenever Commander Tucker and she shared the same air space...

POV T'Pol - Past and Present...

"You okay?"

"Just a mild headache..."

It wasn't a complete lie; I could feel one coming on.

"I thought Vulcans didn't get headaches?"

Vulcans aren't supposed to get lots of things, getting emotionally addicted to a human, and in turn to a lethal substance, for starters.

I thought fast.

"I'm needed in the Command Center..."

I'm in need of courage, the kind I used to rely on, and now see I took for granted. And, Commander, I'm in need of unburdening myself, knowing that if I tell you all there is to know, I'll lose you. No one better than I knows that your rejection would be the epitome of logic.

My logic, novelly-tempered by these emotions, argued for not wanting to lose him.

I vacillated, wanting to confide, but couldn't. I 'turned tail,' as I've heard him use the expression, and fled Sickbay as though being in the same room with him was tantamount to throwing myself into the warp core.

I should have told him. I should have when I'd had the chance.

"Now, ya know if I weren't needed here, I'd be goin' with you in a heartbeat."

I wish there had been a way for him to have come. I couldn't bring myself to
tell him I didn't like the idea of leaving him behind. Ridiculous sentiment of which I'm cogently aware, yet it's what I felt, and feeling isn't the bane it once was, although it still unsettles me; it probably always will. As
impassively as ever, I replied:

"You are needed here, Commander. Mister Reed's mission is in capable hands. He is running it in conjunction with one of the MACOs."

"Yeah, Corporal Hawkins. Malcolm gave me the complete rundown while I pumped him dry. I'd still feel a whole lot better if I were comin' along...too...to uh, well, to personally watch your back, Sub-comman--ah, hell--T'Pol! I'd breathe much easier."

He'd been impossible, as always...and his impossibility had gathered steam without his batting an eye. I could do nothing but stare at him as though deprived of the power of speech.

"I've lost so much already. If I lose you too, T'Pol, I'll go stark ravin' crazy--sure as I'm standin' here not wantin' to let you go."

The same woebegone look his eyes had clung to before we worked with the Xindi portable power cells afflicted them again.

The venerated, and, yes, cherished Vulcan axiom was on the tip of my tongue. I restrained myself from speaking it, having already anticipated he would not appreciate its implications. I could utter it for anyone else, but not for Trip. He needed something more real for him to hold on to, something he could equate with my heartfelt concern.

I owed it to him after what we'd shared...

I'd taken several deep breaths to center myself. I had not wanted him to hug me, but naturally, he did. While he imprisoned me in his desperate embrace, with my lips barely moving, I instructed:

"Focus on me, Charles, despite the many demands constantly made of you, though blocking nothing out. I've taught you how. Focus, and we'll be together...we will."

He shed some tears, and I had nearly shed some of my own. And then I had to go; duty called. His parting words turned me around...

"You be careful, now, ya hear!"

Once again, in such a short period of time, Enterprise is battling for its life against the greatest of odds. It doesn't bode well.

The battle is moments into being waged when my 't'hyl'a's and my thoughts intertwine.

We focus on each other through a bond that cannot be rightly thought of as such; it is more like an echoing whorl shared between two minds yearning to meld, two souls trying to connect through the void of space. Our linkage is premature, twitchy, yet the etching of it is there. There is no mistaking its existence, and breathing deeply again, I cling to it. I cling to my t’hy'la like never before.

He is truly remarkable. Amidst all the fear, upheaval and tension, he is purposeful, his mind the sharpest and clearest I've ever known it to be.

Now he comprehends how I wanted to disclose to him, without fear, no holding back. We sense through our link that we may never see each other again. His sadness stabs at me, and cradling it, I soothe his mind.

It is then I stream to my beloved Charles...*The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few...*

He tells me how much he loves me.

I tell him I have come to understand, and a surge of emotions rips through me.

Passionately, I insist my feelings for him will never die...

Stubborn...we both are, which perhaps explains it all. If I were with him he would swear he saw me smile, but then I'd have to remind him that Vulcans don't smile, and he'd say, "The hell they don't!"

*Never die,* I reiterate, and the power behind those impassioned words empowers

me.

Intractably, he insists, *Never, darlin', NEVER!*

*We have information you can use--it might--*

*We need all the help we can get right now...send it through!*

Trip doesn't need to tell me twice.

TBC

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Two folks have made comments

Wonderful as always!

Bravo! Loved that they both contacted eachother through the bond when things were dire...