Second Visitation

Second Visitation

By Sue

E-MAIL: susieqla@yahoo.com
RATING: PG-13, Romance
CATEGORY: Open
SPOILERs: Shuttlepod One
ARCHIVE: Yes, unnecessary to ask.
DISCLAIMER: Enterprise is the property of Paramount.
No profit is being made.
SUMMARY: Sequel to my story, While He Lay Sleeping.

**************

She had kissed him! Kissed him, she berated, full on the shell of his ear. The intimacy of the act was astounding. What had come over her? If she hadn't thought she'd heard Phlox approaching, she would have brushed her lips against the unconscious Commander's; her moment of discovery. His 'temptors' had seemed to beckon to her, wanting her to uncover the wonder of their touch.

Meditation was a chore. She was sorely preoccupied with the Chief Engineer's vulnerability interferring with her powers of concentration. She squeezed her eyes closed. Why had she done it? What was happening to her impeccable bastion; sound judgment?

What was behind her motivations? Why this disturbing attraction to this enigmatic Terran with lucid blue eyes? Charles Tucker III...the handsome man who set her ability to embrace only the purely logical, whenever he got a little too close to her, on its ear?

He excited her, enticed her...baffled her. He was too quintessential to ignore.

Her eyes flew open. How would she ever get to sleep if her mind kept this up? Her thoughts were chaotic. 'Concentrate. That's an order,' she demanded of herself. Her expression softened though. 'Maybe if I concentrate on how illogical the Chief Engineer is, I will regaincontrol of myself,' T'Pol theorized.

She rose from the nest of cushions she'd been sitting on. Perhaps a good stretch was in order. As knotted muscles unwound, she concluded that Mr. Tucker's being illogical had nothing to do with how physically appealing he was in a tank top that planed his muscles to dramatic effect, and skivvies that left nothing to a controlled imagination.

'Stop!' she inwardly barked at herself again. Feelings previously unexperienced were getting the better of her. She had felt compelled to kiss him because there had been the chance of losing him. Losing Commander Tucker was unthinkable, something she could not countenance.

She undid the stays and fasteners of her ample robe. When the garment pooled at her ankles, she stepped out of the hub of plush fabric. Freed from clothing, she might find it easier to relax. The sanctuary of her cabin was her haven, yet her mind was not content to remain where it was. It kept revisiting Sickbay. Though routinely disciplined, it stubbornly focused her thoughts on the recovering Commander.

Incredibly, she saw herself going to him again, making sure he was all right. His readings had indicated that his condition had stabilized, but perhaps his condition had changed, and not for the better, since her return to her quarters.

Was following through on her impulse to be with Tucker wayward? Where was it written that being concerned for a friend, the first real friend she'd ever had, proscribed? Well, that would depend on to what degree, especially on Vulcan. She was on Enterprise now, and though she was certainly Vulcan, she was also increasingly aware that a growing attachment to the Commander was in the making.

Perhaps this amazing development could be attributed to his willingness to want to befriend her, coupled with his out-and-out unpredictability. She knew she shouldn't, but in him, she found it attractive in a forbidden sort of way. Just as she knew she should remain to meditate, but acknowledged that the urge to return to Tucker was irresistable.

She stooped to pick up her discarded garment. She smoothed it down as she went to hang it up. She posed before the inset wardrobe with critical eyes, trying to decide what she would don for her second visitation. Her clothing selections were geared more for the serviceable rather than the stylish. Shaking her head, she wondered why she was making a trial out of a trivial concern.

She chose a sleeveless sheath, turquoise lime in color, and cinched at the waist by an aqua band. The dress was slitted not more than a quarter of the way up. She analyzed her appearance in the truncating bathroom mirror. Why was she being so particular about her appearance? The Commander was semi-comatose. Even when he wasn't, he didn't pay her any compliments when it came to what she wore.

Although...there had been that somewhat suggestive comment he'd made about how she'd look in Niiylian leather. She puffed out the fringe of the dress' straight-edged collar. She ruffled her bangs a bit. Staring at herself blankly, she smoothed them back down. Satisfied she was ready for the reappearance, she vacated the spotlessly clean bathroom.

As the doors of her quarters snapped closed behind her, she wondered if it were she laid up in Sickbay, would he show the same concern? She moved off, still thinking that over. Regardless of whether he would or wouldn't, she was going to him because it felt to be the cogent thing to do.

Once on Sickbay's level, she stepped out of the turbolift. It was very late now. She didn't anticipate encountering any corridor travelers. 'There is still time to turn right around and return to the serenity of your quarters,' she counseled before entering the medical facility.

Lifting her chin a bit higher, she crossed over the threshold, following the parting of the doors. All was stillness save the tranquilizing humming of the monitoring equipment.

All was exactly the same just as it'd been her last time here. The Commander was unconscious; his snore reminded her of flies buzzing around. It was so human, and yet she wasn't inclined to fault him, not at this point in time. Reed was in the same condition, but wasn't snoring. He had an arm slung over his forehead, and his mouth was open. For some inexplicable reason, the urge pricked her to go close it for him; he looked nonsensical with his mouth agape like that.

She let it go.

Commander Tucker had cocooned himself within the light blanket Phlox had presumably covered him with. Reed started mumbling incoherently. T'Pol decided to draw the hanging partitioning separator to lend privacy. Once she had finished cordoning off Trip's area, she positioned herself at his face, intently studying it.

"Her b-bum?" the Commander erupted sloppily. "What t-the hell's t-that?"

T'Pol's eyebrow lifted, and she noted the sudden irregularity of Tucker's breathing. Yet, the monitor reading indicated that there was no significant fluctuation in respiration. To minimize the risk of his suffocating in the tangle of blanket about his head, she pulled it lower until she had it at mid-chest level.

"Oh yeah," he said with a naughty, bubbly laugh, "her ass..."

Whose posterior was the brunt of Tucker's crude reference? Her mind brought to the fore the name of the girl he, and it appeared the lieutenant, had in common, T'Pol had gathered from what he'd previously muttered in his sleep.

Ruby...

"Okay, I give her that, Malc', m'man. T'Pol's is the sweetest lookin' piece of tail of any gal's on this flyin' marvel of modern technology," he clumsily touted with wagging lips. "It's h-her superior than all attitude th-that reeks."

The Vulcan preened her ability to rise above his baseless judgments, especially when such drivel was the product of a heavily drugged mind, which was only logical to conclude now. T'Pol raised her hand to smooth down the Commander's virulent example of bed head.

He stirred at her touch, but was too sedated to crest alertness. Her fingers probed his warm scalp, liking the softness that stroked her digital flesh in return. Secretly, of all his physical attributes, it was his hair she appreciated overall. He took meticulous care with it; never one out of place, or its length unsightly.

T'Pol twirled her index finger around and around in Trip's short locks, finding the simple action relaxing. Not blinking, she continued until her eyelids began drooping slowly.

Trip's snore converted into a loud snort, which jostled T'Pol out of her brief lapse. Again, she asked herself the trite question, centering on why she was there. While in the throes of deep sleep, he curled his arm about hers, as though in this singular way he was telling her she must stay.

He could have saved his unconscious effort. The Sub-Commander had no intention of leaving. She was curious, wondering what else his subconscious might leak. T'Pol glanced again at Tucker's vitals, and was rewarded with the obvious that his signs were greatly improving. They were even better than they had been minutes ago.

Lightly, she fingered the left side of his stubbly face. 'A puzzle,' she deemed, he being worthy of several years' worth of study at various branches of the Vulcan Sciences Foundation.

His snoring abated just before he gave another blustery snort. Shifting roughly to his other side, neatly pinning T'Pol flush to him, he divulged, "You've only got eyes for her backside...but, me... I'm a T man, m'self. I w-wouldn't mind givin' her ripe pea-peaches a firm sq-squeeze." Following a slippery laugh, Trip clarified, "Peaches, Malc'. H-her breasts...the dynamic duo."

T'Pol squirmed back from him a little. His randy thoughts served to confirm her suspicions. Commander Tucker needed his sexual tension relieved. Certainly not by her, but by someone...and soon. She mused how long it had been for him, going without, as thought it were any of her business?

"W-wonder if Little Miss Vulcan even d-does sex like normal gals..."

T'Pol stiffened, unwilling to accept the notion that he meant her. What did he mean by 'normal gals?'

"Still," Tucker semi-wheezed, "I'd sorta like ta give her a test drive..." Amused with his somnambular wit, he chuckled. "See how she h-handles where it counts."

T'Pol worked her way free, and stood, not pleased, not pleased at all over his sodden line of thought. "I'm leaving," she said without expression.

She was forcefully drawing the curtain back when his wispy voice halted her swift departure. "She's s-so fine. W-wows the dickens outta me. Wi-wish I k-knew how ta talk ta h-her without her lookin' at me like I'm t-the b-biggest fool walkin'. B-but I don't know h-how..."

T'Pol faced around just staring at Trip with eyes that were magnetically drawn to the babbling Commander. Ineffably, his surname went unspoken as she returned to his bedside.

"Wish she wouldn't make it so tough tryin' ta get along most of the time...man...s-she's got condesension down to an art f-form."

Across from them, the sleeping Lieutenant Reed, who was snoring lightly now, was expressing himself unclearly. It seemed to sound as though he wanted more pineapple something or other.

T'Pol gently placed her fingers upon the front of Trip's face and closed her eyes. In her mind's eye, she saw Tucker's intelligent eyes questioning what she was doing. When she reopened her eyes, the Commander wore a contented smile. He looked as though a fond dream had come true. His breathing was even and easier. He flared his nostrils, and the untamed urge to rub her nose against his overwhelmed her. Forgetting her discipline, she obeyed the insistent urge. Despite rigid training, it wasn't always so easy to keep emotion bottled.

His breath was warm against her chin. The feel of his skin on hers comforted her further. Her lips were so close to his. Was it only logical her wanting to sample their softness too?

Just as she was about to, the Chief Engineer opened his heavy-lidded eyes. Startled, he didn't trust them. The pronouncing of her name sounded hollow and throaty. "T'-T'Pol? What the?"

With her facial expression as deadpan as she could effortlessly make it, she told him to say nothing more. She leaned her index finger up against his parted lips. "Go back to sleep," she whispered, her voice as soft and as silky as the slip of her sigh.

Against her finger he huskily asked, "I'm dreamin', right?" The feel of her finger served as a true wake up call.

"No," she answered truthfully. She saw his waking eyes widen in awe. "Now, go back to sleep," she bid firmly.

This just couldn't be. It wasn't possible; she, here...behaving as though she wanted to kiss him. 'Unless she really does give one,' he rationalized.

If this was a dream, he wasn't above pushing it to its limits. "Only if ya gimme that kiss like you wanted to...first." He was tickled with the condition he'd imposed. By the impassive look on his visitor's face he sensed her momentary trepidation.

"Commander," T'Pol said, her voice steady, with a hint of expectancy to it.

His heart skipped more than one beat. "One kiss, and it's lights out till tomorrow mornin'." If she did kiss him, this was a dream for sure; no way in outer space would the Ice Queen plant one on him. Either way, he felt like crowing. "I'm waitin', Sub-Commander."

'Dream for sure,' he thought smugly. 'She almost looks like she wants to come across. No way is this real...'

A mind meld was unnecessary for her to know what was going through his. She considered doing what he
wanted her to a moment longer. 'If only to wipe that smug look off his face after satisfying my curiosity,' she critically asserted.

When she rose from the biobed, taking a step back, Trip pursed his lips. "'Night, Sub-Commander," he drawled sweetly and low. His voice was so thick with mirth, he nearly choked on it.

T'Pol lost no time stationing herself by the section of curtain that hung partially open. Pausing, she did not bother to look back. She began moving off.

"Ya look kinda pretty in that dress," Trip flourished like a matador waving his flashy cape before a bull sporting numerous barbed 'banderillas.' "Real sharp," he jabbed, willing her to face around. "Beautiful even."

'Obviously still heavily drugged,' she thought, as sheguardedly turned to him. Her eyes somewhat betrayed the telling effect he was beginning to have on her. She paused long enough to dangle hope, but dashed it in the same moment when she resumed leaving.

"Gimme somethin' ta dream about the rest of the night," he persisted. She hadn't left the facility yet, he optimized. She was out of his range of vision though. "Chicken!" he baited.

The taunt had done the trick. She was back, with a faint tinge of defiance etched in her face. "Commander, becoming agitated will not improve your condition."

"You can though," he teased, bumping his right index finger against his lips. "Please..."

"I take exception to being referred to as a pecking barnyard Earth creature."

"Prove me wrong then, darlin'.

Charily, she eyed the recipient of her instigation.

Trip watched her, noting how caught between a rock and a hard place she looked. The amused look in his eyes drained from them completely, and he felt compelled to recant. "T'Pol...I'm. I'm sorry. Thanks for stoppin' ta look in on me. I really appreciate it."

As he'd said this, she had come closer so that now she was standing directly at his bedside. Firmly holding his gaze, she replied, "You are welcome."

He held out his hand to her, waiting for her to take it. "I meant it. You look nice."

She knew he meant it. Cautiously, she filled his hand with hers, while focusing on his lips again as though they were an entity separate and apart from him.

Giving her hand a light squeeze, Trip smiled broadly just for her. "Go on. Get some sleep. Doc says I should be fit enough to be released in time for my tour on the Bridge. I'll catch ya there, later."

"Depending upon whether the doctor approves your being fit for duty. It would be unwise to rush your recuperation."

Trip lobbed an 'are you for real' look at her and jiggled her hand a little after squeezing it a bit more firmly this time. "No sweat. I'll be there with bells on, fitter than a fiddle."

"Listen to the doctor," she admonished with a supple give to her voice.

Responding to it, and her whole demeanor, which she'd never treated him to seeing before, not like this, he replied in kind, "Yeah, you're right. Somebody's got to." He tugged on her hand a little, making one more bid. "So do I get that goodnight kisseroo, huh? I'll sleep a whole lot better... guaranteed. A hypospray chock full of sedative couldn't be more potent." 'Now how's she's supposed to take that, Romeo?' he belittled, realizing the miss of his backhanded compliment. Amending his faux pas, he pressed, "What I mean is, it'll make me feel real nice so I'll drift right off."

"I understand what you meant, Commander."

"Could ya at least make that Chuck?" he appealed, recalling her unwillingness to use his other nickname.

'Chuck...never,' she internalized. "Very well." She leaned in closer to him, and he was sure that she heard his heart beating like drums on speed. He tilted his face, lining his lips up with hers. T'Pol veered away from them, and before he could croak out a, 'hey,' she kissed his forehead. Lingering over it for several moments, she slowly drew back, no hint of anything akin to regret on her open face.

Sounding a tad crestfallen, Trip mustered, "Okay... well it's a start at least..."

'A start,' she considered, staring at him, turning his ominous assessment over in her mind. A start of what? What was he expecting; what was she? What was the impetus for becoming so overly familiar with this mercurial Terran male?

"Darlin', you have a good night, now. Like I said, I 'ppreciate you droppin' by." He raised his hand and fluttered his fingers at her. "'Bye." She regarded him with detachment and he blew her a kiss. "Dream sweet things, T'Pol. I know I sure will."

"Vulcans tend *not* to dream," she reiterated for as many times that she'd lost count.

"Oh," he responsively drawled, "that's what ya say...but I have my suspicions." Wiping off the smirk that had imposed itself on his face wasn't an option.

Unemotionally, T'Pol leaned in close to him again. As aloof as a Traxalian governor granting a stay of execution, she crowded her face into his. Primly, with a tightly closed-lipped mouth, she molded her lips to his. The unique expression he wore, with his eyes plastered closed, amused her. She held the contact until he squirmed.

Inches from his face she said with a voice that sounded as though it breathed life into promise, "In slumber, Vulcans tend to free-associate. A human concept, but close enough to approximate." His little gasp amused her further with her blank expression immoveably intact. "Good-night, Commander Tucker." Before exiting the enclosed area, she quipped, "And if you dream...may it be..." She arched her eyebrow as she skirted away, and her voice dipped, "Pleasant."

'His lips...' T'Pol, nearing the facility's door, reevaluated, having memorized their amazing suppleness and taste, '...fascinating.' The doors opened for her, and departing, she doubted whether she'd be able to fall off to sleep in the wake of such a powerful aftereffect.

Across from him, Trip heard Malcolm say something that made the Armory officer laugh. Trip felt like laughing too, but for an entirely different reason that had nothing to do with upgrading security beacons in shuttlepods with cloaking capability.

"'Pleasant,' huh?" he softly mimicked, pushing himself to get drowsy fast. "Sugar, with you as the star attaction, in mine, how can it miss?" He shut his eyes, impatient for sleep to overtake him, champing at the bit to see what she'd do for an encore.

*==*==*==*
End

Back to Fan Fiction Main Menu

Have a comment to make about this story? Do so in the Trip Fan Fiction forum at the HoTBBS!

Seven people have made comments

Good girl, you wrote a sequel! I did chuckle at this and was not sure whether or not you would have Trip wake up or what would happen. You do realise that we will all be waiting for a piece to follow on from this one? What will happen once he is up and about again and T'Pol can't sneak in and watch him sleep? Thank you so much for writing this, Ali D :~)

I'm glad to see you wrote a sequeal to your earlier story.I hope You'll do a sequeal to a Bedside Matter that story is screaming for a sequeal for T'Pol and Trip to get together for real intead of a dream next time please.Alot of people are asking for another story.I really like your stories you know how to Trip and T'Pol as a couple really well rounded characters.

Thank you for this sequel, it gave me the fluff giggles. Hopefully there will be more.

I just read While he lay sleeping and your sequel Iliked them alot .The stories you write are really good.I hope you'll write more stories they're fun to read.

Excuse me, I'm just going to get a cold cloth to wipe my fevered brow with! Boy, you do these stories soooo well!

Interesting focus on the internal monologue.

Loved how you captured Trip the Dork and Trip the Unselfaware in just a couple of quick scenes. Trip the Dork of Risa who brags about women, and Trip the uncertain who admits he is slightly afraid of how T'Pol makes him feel. And thanks for including a very nice description of their kiss. This was fun. Thanks.