THE THORN AND THE ROSE

By DinahD

Disclaimer: I do not own the Enterprise characters. I do, however, claim ownership of the characters that are the products of my imagination. I have not benefited monetarily from writing this.

Author's note: I want to extend my sincere thanks to my beta, the one and only Distracted.

I would also like to thank everyone who has read the chapters I've posted. And a special thanks to those of you who have taken the time to review them.

CHAPTER 21: TRIP

As soon as he was certain that T'Pol was out of earshot, Soval said, "I believe I owe you an apology, Commander."

"I didn't think Vulcans apologized," Tucker responded quietly, "but under the circumstance…yeah, I think you do." His eyes never left Soval's face. "It's a funny feeling having somebody rummaging around in your head."

Soval raised one eyebrow, but otherwise remained motionless. "I did not think that you would be aware of my presence."

A smile tugged at the corner of Trip's mouth. "My mind's workin' all the time, Ambassador, even when I'm not. So, that was a mind meld?" Soval nodded. Unconsciously, Tucker raised a hand and slowly began to rub his temple. "After our embassy on Vulcan was bombed, I remember watching you get information from a man who was in a coma. It helped us to identify the bomber. Were things really so serious that you had to resort to that with me?"

Soval slowly made his way across the small chamber. Upon reaching the bench, he paused. Tucker slid to his left and Soval took a seat beside him. Both men kept their eyes focused straight ahead.

"I…regret that it was necessary to render you unconscious," Soval began. "I also regret that it was necessary to enter your mind without your permission, but you left me no choice. You were not behaving like a man who was prepared to sever the bond that joined him to another. You should be grateful that I stopped you. I know what you feel for T'Pol. Any attempt to sever your bond would have had grave consequences…for both of you."

"I doubt that," Tucker sneered.

"Do not underestimate T'Pol's regard for you, Commander. She cares deeply for you."

Trip shifted restlessly. "If she cares so much, why doesn't she want to have anything to do with me?"

"You will have to ask her that."

Tucker shook his head. "Every time I try to talk to T'Pol, we only end up fighting. Maybe the captain can make her happy. I sure never could."

"Vulcans do not experience happiness, Commander."

Tucker snorted and laughed humorlessly. "That's exactly what T'Pol said. I guess it's about time I start accepting the fact that the two of you know what you're talkin' about."

A frown passed over Trip's face as an unpleasant thought popped into his head. Had that been the problem all along? Did he really want a human wife? Did he want someone who could feel things as deeply as he did, someone with whom he could share the many facets of human emotions? Had he tried to force T'Pol to be something she wasn't, nor could ever be? Is that why she ran from him?

He wrinkled his brow. No, he couldn't accept that. He loved T'Pol for who she was. He didn't want her to change. Her Vulcan traits were what endeared her to him – made her special. Why hadn't he ever taken the time to make that clear to her? He had never expected her to return his love – not in the way that a human woman would – but he had hoped that she would care enough to want to be with him.

He knew she had once had feelings for him. As she regained control of her emotions – as she became more Vulcan – she began to push him away. The cultural gap that separated them was every bit as wide as the one the Xindi weapon had blasted through Florida. Maybe it was too big an obstacle for any two people to cross. T'Pol was the realist. Maybe this was the only way she could jolt him back to reality. He'd been holding his breath, hoping for a miracle that could never be. Their societies wouldn't allow it. Regardless of the pain, regardless of the emptiness he would feel each and every day, he would have to learn to live without her.

Sighing, Tucker once again became aware of his surroundings and the composed figure seated on the bench next to him.

"Apology accepted, Ambassador," he said wearily. Turning his head, he looked over at Soval. "I know that you were only trying to do what was best for me, and I wasn't cooperating. I'm sorry. I should have been honest with you from the beginning. You went to a lot of trouble for us. Thank you for that."

Suddenly, Tucker was uncomfortable with the way Soval was scrutinizing him. He'd seen that look before, and it usually meant nothing but trouble. "Well," Trip said, slapping the palms of both hands against his thighs, "I guess I should be goin'. Thanks again for the help, Ambassador."

As he started to rise, Soval asked, "Why do you want to leave Starfleet, Commander?"

Sighing, Trip sat back down. After giving the question some thought, he answered, "I guess I'm just tired of fighting. There never seems to be an end. Now I'm even fighting myself." He straightened his back and took a deep breath. "Besides, I figure that it's only a matter of time before Starfleet finds out that I'm no longer officer material. I'd rather leave with my head up before they decide to boot me out."

"I believe your actions may be a bit premature," Soval said. "There may be other options that you have yet to explore."

"Like what?" Tucker tilted his head as he tried to figure out where Soval was headed.

"I know that you are in a great deal of emotional pain. Your primary concern should be coming to grips with those feelings, not submitting your resignation to Starfleet. You need to find someone who can help you deal with your self-destructive emotions."

Tucker compressed his lips into a thin line as he fought to control his temper. "I'm not going to see some know-it-all psychiatrist, if that's what you're gettin' at."

"Remember that I have seen your thoughts, Commander. I know how much your career means to you."

"I'm an engineer," Tucker shot back. "I can get work anytime I want. I've already had a couple of real good offers. I don't need Starfleet."

"That may be true, but at the moment, Starfleet is an important part of your life. You do not want to give that up." Soval fixed his eyes firmly on the young human. "You have a natural gift for command, Mr. Tucker. I believe that, in the coming years, Starfleet will be in need of your skills."

Wrung out both emotionally and physically, Trip leaned back and rested his head against the wall. "Okay. Just out of idle curiosity, what do you have in mind?"

Soval folded his hands and turned to look at the commander. "Once when I was troubled, I spent some time here at the Sanctuary on Mount Seleya. I spoke often with a priest who helped me see things more clearly. I believe that he could do the same for you."

Incredulous, Trip stared at Soval. "You want me to see a Vulcan priest?"

"I want you to speak with the man who helped me. Torok is now the High Priest. He is revered throughout Vulcan for his logic and wisdom." Soval paused when Trip shook his head vigorously, but it didn't prevent him from forging ahead. "Starfleet will never know that you sought help, Commander. The only way you can endanger your career is to continue to do nothing to resolve your problems."

"This is crazy."

"You have everything to gain and nothing to lose."

"I'm not Vulcan!"

"That fact is made abundantly clear to me every time we meet."

Tucker scrubbed his hands over his eyes. Just when he thought his life couldn't get any more complicated, Soval had to go and prove him wrong.

"I don't know," Tucker mumbled as he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to think. He had always taken great pride in his ability to solve his own problems, but this time it wasn't working. No matter how hard he fought against his dark, destructive thoughts, he kept sliding deeper and deeper into the abyss. If he couldn't turn things around soon, he stood a good chance of losing everything he'd worked a lifetime to build. He couldn't allow that to happen.

Trip opened his eyes and looked over at Soval. "Do you think this High Priest would be willing to talk to me?"

"I believe so. Would you like me to seek him out?"

Trip wanted to say no. It would be so easy. All he had to do was get up and walk out. He knew Soval wouldn't follow him. He could return to Enterprise and pretend that none of this had ever happened…until the next time his nightmares made it impossible for him to sleep…or his temper got the best of him…or Starfleet asked for his resignation. He groaned inwardly. He was backed into a corner, and he knew it. Soval had just pointed him toward a possible way out. Maybe he should take it.

"Yeah," Trip said quietly, I guess I would."

"Good," Soval said, then he rose and started for the door. Before he disappeared into the corridor, he paused long enough to say, "I know that you would prefer to change into your uniform, Commander, but please refrain from doing so. I believe that Torok will be more comfortable seeing you in your present attire." When Tucker nodded his head in agreement, Soval left.

Slowly, Trip rose and walked outside. From his place on the landing, he could see the shuttlepod parked below near the foot of the stairs. He knew that T'Pol was inside waiting for him. Pulling his robe about him, he hiked the hemline up far enough so that he could walk down the steps without worrying about getting his feet tangled up again, and he started down.

When he reached the shuttlepod, he found the hatch open. Taking a deep breath, he stepped inside and walked over to where T'Pol was seated. She looked up at him and, for a moment, he allowed himself to get lost in the unfathomable depths of her eyes.

"Are you ready to leave?" she asked softly.

Her voice brought him gently back to reality, and he sat down on the bench directly across from her. "Not just yet," he answered. "Soval wants me to talk to some Vulcan High Priest, so I've decided to stick around for awhile."

T'Pol's eyebrow shot up.

Trip chuckled at her reaction. "Yeah, it kinda surprised me, too. Soval thinks this priest can help me with some of the problems I've been havin'." He shrugged his shoulders. "I guess it can't hurt."

"I think you've made a wise decision," T'Pol replied.

"Will you be headin' back to the conference? The captain is probably missin' ya."

"I will remain here," T'Pol said with a firmness that caught Trip by surprise.

He tilted his head inquiringly. "Has Soval got some secret agenda for you, too?"

"No. This could be a difficult time for you. You may find that you need the support of a friend. I believe that it is important for me to stay."

Trip was slightly taken aback. "That's not necessary, T'Pol. I'm a big boy. I can take care of myself."

"I am aware of that. I will contact Captain Archer and tell him that we have not yet completed our…research. I am sure that he can manage without us for another day or two."

As Trip watched her stand and move forward to the pilot's seat, he tried to figure out what had just occurred. In spite of everything that had happened, she wanted to stay with him. Could Soval be right? Could she still have feelings for him? Trip scrubbed one hand across his forehead. No. He was tired of playing games. It was time for him to cut his losses and move on.

He stood and headed over toward the hatch. When he came up next to T'Pol, she turned toward him. "The captain is meeting with Admiral Kiran and Captains Sirek and V'Lin. He will contact me later."

Trip nodded. "Well, I guess I better be getting back. Soval may be looking for me." He hitched up his robe and stepped out of the shuttlepod. Once outside, he paused. There was still one thing that needed to be said. He turned back to look at her. As he took in the exquisite contours of her face and the warm glow of her complexion, he had to fight hard against the lump that was forming in his throat. "I'm sorry things didn't work out between us, T'Pol," he said huskily. "I'd give a lot for things to be different between us, but I guess it just wasn't meant to be."

Trip managed a half-hearted smile, but his words received no response. T'Pol sat unmoving, her jaw clenched and her hands folded tightly in her lap. There was sadness in her eyes, but there was also something more. If he didn't know better, he would have said that it was longing…but that didn't make any sense. He leaned in to take a closer look, but before he could make up his mind, she blinked and it was gone. Confused and disheartened, Trip turned around and headed back up the flight of stairs toward the Sanctuary.

- - - - - - - - - -

Tucker nervously scrubbed his hands together as he paced back and forth. What was taking so long? He'd been stuck in this same lousy room for over three hours. Trip wasn't exactly sure what high priests did, but if the guy was too busy to see a mere human, Trip figured that it was only polite for somebody to pass the word along. He could be back on Enterprise right now preparing for the talks with Admiral Kiran and the rest of the brass from the Vulcan fleet. But no, he was stuck in another windowless, look-alike room, waiting for the little man who wasn't there.

He plopped down on one of the two long, stone benches in the chamber, fidgeted for a few moments, and then jumped back up again. Why had he ever agreed to go through with this nonsense? He should have just said no to Soval. Now he was trapped. The commander ran his fingers nervously through his hair. It was time to go. He'd waited long enough. Trip turned and started for the doorway, but, much to his surprise, his way was blocked by an elderly man in a black floor-length tunic and russet robe.

With an air of quiet dignity, the man pulled himself up to his full height and announced, "I am Torok, High Priest of Vulcan," in a rich baritone voice. Without waiting for a response, Torok turned and, with the aid of a cane, made his way slowly to the bench closest to the doorway. Even in a room illuminated solely by candlelight, Tucker could see that the Vulcan's skin was as wrinkled and thin as crumpled tissue paper. His hair was a pure snowy white, and he moved haltingly, but there was nothing frail or fragile about the man. Strength and self-confidence seemed to radiate from him.

Once he was seated, Torok fixed his gaze on Tucker. "I have observed humans for many years now, but you are the first one that I have met. Ambassador Soval tells me that you are an exceptional example of your species. Would you say that that assessment is true?"

It took several seconds for Tucker to realize that his mouth was hanging open. "Excuse me?"

"Would you say that you are exceptional, young man?"

Disconcerted, Tucker responded, "No, sir. I'm not much different than other humans." He briefly entertained the idea of taking a seat, but for some unknown reason he felt compelled to stand erect while in the presence of this elderly Vulcan.

"You are an engineer?"

"Yes, sir. I'm chief engineer on Enterprise, Earth's first warp-five starship."

"That is a position of great responsibility. You hold the lives of all aboard in the palm of your hand, do you not?"

"I never thought of it quite that way," Trip said uneasily, "but I guess that's right. If I don't do my job, a lot of people could end up paying for my mistakes."

"Do you believe that others have already paid for your mistakes?"

Caught off guard, Trip stared anxiously at the high priest. He knew this discussion was probably going to be difficult, but he figured they would get to know each other before easing into a discussion of his problems. He should have remembered that Vulcans don't bother with small talk. This guy went straight for the jugular.

"Commander Tucker?"

Still a bit rattled, Trip knew he had to say something. "I always try to do my best. But sometimes things just…happen."

"Can you accept the fact that you bear no personal responsibility when people on your ship are injured?"

Trip's hands balled into fists. "It's my job to keep the people on Enterprise safe. When someone's hurt…" Trip stopped immediately when he heard the tremulous tone in his voice and tried to regroup. "When someone's hurt…or worse…it just means that I have to work harder. If I work harder, I can hold everything together."

Torok stared intently at the young human for a few moments then he continued. "I understand that our time together will be limited. You are scheduled to meet with representatives of the Vulcan government. Is that correct?"

Trip nodded. "I should be there now. I'm only here because T'Pol and I…" He suddenly clamped his mouth shut and dropped his head. He didn't want to bring the dissolution of his relationship with T'Pol into this.

"I am aware that you and Commander T'Pol came here to sever your bond. I was to officiate at the ceremony." Torok shifted slightly, settling into a more comfortable position on the bench. "As a rule, the other priests deal with such matters, but in this instance, they were not comfortable performing the ceremony. They found it…unsettling that a human was able to bond with a Vulcan."

Trip's head snapped up, and he stiffened. "There's nothing wrong with T'Pol and me wantin' to be together," he said hotly. "If people – Vulcan and human – would keep their noses out of our business, it would make our lives a whole lot easier."

"And yet you came to us to sever your bond," Torok continued logically. "That would seem to indicate that the two of you are not content to be together."

"Yeah…well…we changed our minds. T'Pol and I just need a little more time to work things out." Trip bit his lip guiltily. What ever possessed him to say that? He knew better than to lie to a priest…even a Vulcan priest. His mama would be ashamed of him. He couldn't deny that his pride had been hurt, but what if this only proved that he couldn't face the truth? He couldn't even admit to a perfect stranger that he'd failed in the most important relationship of his life.

Torok leaned back against the wall and looked appraisingly at Trip. "Your face betrays you, young man. It is obvious that you are not being completely honest with me." When Trip began to protest, he silenced the engineer with a wave of his hand. "If I am going to help you, there can be no lies or half-truths between us. I must know your thoughts. Since it is apparent that you intend to be evasive whenever we discuss topics that you find upsetting, I am left with no other option but to ask that you allow me to touch your mind."

Once again Trip shifted nervously. "You mean a mind meld?"

"Of course."

"Soval already did that. Isn't once enough?"

"Some things never change," Torok murmured as he arranged the sleeves of his robe. "Soval always was impulsive."

Tucker's eyes shot open. He'd called Soval many things over the years, but impulsive definitely wasn't one of them. Maybe he needed to reassess his opinion of the ambassador.

"What Soval may or may not know of your thoughts is of little concern to me," Torok continued. "If I cannot know your mind, I cannot help you."

"First Soval and now you," Tucker said defensively. "I thought you Vulcans didn't approve of mind melds. Are you a Syrrannite?"

"I am not a Syrrannite," Torok scoffed. "I simply do not allow other people to think for me. Mind melds are a part of Vulcan tradition, a part of the ancient ways. They serve a useful purpose, if used properly. As with all things, if they are abused, there can be negative consequences."

"I don't mean any disrespect, sir, but this is my mind we're talkin' about." Trip wrinkled his brow anxiously. "Are you sure you know what you're doin'?"

"I can assure you, young man, that you need not be concerned. I mastered the discipline almost two centuries ago. As a matter of fact, I was the one who taught the principles of mind melding to a young upstart named Soval. You seem to have suffered no ill effects from the joining of his mind with yours."

Trip had to admit that he'd walked away from his encounter with Soval with nothing more than a mild, short-lived headache. Of course, this time he would be conscious. He had to hope that that wouldn't make any difference.

"The decision is yours, Commander."

As much as he wanted to forget that he'd ever set foot on Mount Seleya, Trip knew that there was no turning back. He had to see this through to the end. Reluctantly, he nodded his assent then backed it up a moment later by wearily saying, "Okay. Let's do it."

Torok moved his cane out of the way and motioned toward the bench. "Come sit beside me. Soval tells me that the human mind is a chaotic place. This should prove to be an interesting experience."

Trip warily crossed the room and sat down on the bench next to Torok.

"Turn to face me."

Trip did as he was told. "What am I supposed to do?" he asked with a hint of trepidation in his voice.

"All I ask is that you relax and open your mind to me."

Tucker took a deep breath, held it then let it out slowly. "I guess I can do that."

"Let us begin." Torok raised his right hand to Trip's face and intoned, "My mind to your mind. My thoughts to your thoughts. Our minds are merging. Our minds are one." Torok adjusted his hand slightly on Tucker's face. "I feel what you feel. I know what you know."

At first, Trip only felt a gentle pressure in his mind, but that benign feeling was short-lived. Without warning, the pressure suddenly began to grow. Like the unrelenting current of a mighty river, it tore through his head. Trip tried to throw up mental barriers to protect himself, but the force systematically probed his thoughts, his feelings, his memories and then inexorably moved on.

When the force approached the compartments where he kept the great tragedies of his life hidden away, Trip decided to make one last, desperate stand. The force halted in the face of his resistance and for a few brief moments, the irresistible force and the determined human did battle. As the force battered against his defenses, the intense pressure became intolerable pain. Trip's breathing became more ragged as he fought to hold out, but in the end, one by one the compartments were breached.

Instantly, the memories began to play out in his mind. Enterprise was being battered by the Xindi ships. He tried to block out the cries of the wounded and dying as he worked feverishly to hold the ship together. It was all so real. He could smell the smoke, see the blood spurting from Masaro's arm as the ensign lay writhing on the deck. Then the smoke was gone and he was in the ocean frantically diving over and over as he tried to locate his buddy, Vince, who'd cried out and disappeared beneath the waves. He saw the Xindi weapon bearing down on his unsuspecting sister. He screamed in desperation, but she couldn't hear his warnings. With a rush of wind it engulfed her and her body burst into flames. He saw his infant daughter take one last shuddering breath. He felt the weight of her limp, lifeless body as he picked her up and held her close. Numbly, he listened to the eulogy at the funeral, but it wasn't her body in the coffin, it was his. Then the lid was closed, sealing him inside, and the coffin was shot into space – cold and alone for eternity.

It was all too much. Too much pain…too much suffering…too many broken bodies and shattered dreams. As he was forced to relive one horrendous tragedy after another, great heaving sobs wracked Trip's body. He would give anything, even his own life, to save them, but there was nothing he could do.

Just when he thought he'd go insane, the memories stopped and the pressure slowly began to ease. Instead of chaos and misery there was only blessed silence. His breathing slowed, and he felt himself drifting away from the pain toward a deep black hole.

"Wake up, Mr. Tucker!" The words reverberated through every corner of Trip's brain and his eyes shot open.

Disoriented, he blinked a couple of times and then jerked backwards when he realized that there was a wizened Vulcan face only a few inches from his nose.

"Sit up now and take a few deep breaths," Torok said softly as he removed his hand from Trip's face. "You will need a few moments to recover."

Dazed and nauseous, Trip struggled to get to his feet. Using one hand to steady himself against the wall, he pressed the fingers of his other hand firmly against his forehead. The almost unbearable pain had not diminished. It felt as though someone was skewering his brain with a red hot poker. Everything in the room was slightly out of focus and strange white lights flashed across his field of vision.

"You must sit down, Commander, until you regain your equilibrium." Torok reached for Trip, but he pulled away.

"Don't touch me, you bastard," Trip hissed shakily, and then he felt his stomach turn over. Trip managed to stumble a few steps toward the corner of the room before he was violently sick. While he waited for the dry heaves to subside, he leaned against the wall, resting his throbbing head on the cool stone. Off in the distance, he heard voices calling his name. He wasn't surprised. The voices always found him. All dead. Nowhere to hide. So many dead. All his fault. Suddenly the voices began to grow louder and louder, crowding out all rational thought. He tried to block them out, but they all began to blur together into one cacophonous screech -- louder and louder and louder until darkness swallowed him whole and there was nothing left but silence.

- - - - - - - - - -

Trip's first conscious thought was that the voices were gone. So were the intense pain and the nausea. When he felt something cool and wet touch his forehead, he slowly opened his eyes.

"The young man seems to be recovering." Torok looked up at the stern-looking Vulcan who stood stiffly beside his chair. "We will no longer need your services, Doctor. You may return to your duties."

Frowning, the other Vulcan nodded. "This human has not been permanently damaged, but he should rest. He does not have our strength or stamina."

Tucker watched in silence as the doctor glared at him one last time before leaving the room. When Trip raised one hand to touch the damp cloth on his forehead, he noticed that his grey robe was gone. His hand dropped to his neck. Someone had loosened the collar of his suit jacket. Slowly, he turned his head and saw Torok watching him.

"Did I throw up on your floor?" Trip asked in a hushed voice.

"Yes, young man."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean…."

"Do not let it concern you. These things happen."

Trip sat up slowly and leaned forward. Resting his elbows on his thighs, he scrubbed his hands shakily over his face. It didn't taken him long to realize that while he felt better physically, the emotional trauma from the meld had not abated. Too many old wounds had been ripped open and allowed to bleed freely. He could feel the anguish and remorse welling up inside of him, choking him. He tried to build new walls to lock the pain away again, but nothing seemed to work. For one terrible moment, fear gripped him. What if he could no longer protect himself when tragedy stuck? How would he survive?

"I did not want to cause you pain," Torok said sincerely, "but you fought me every step of the way."

Trip lowered his hands. Tears no longer rolled down his cheeks, but his faced was still etched by unbearable pain. "I know you didn't mean to hurt me," he managed to choke out, "but why did you make me see…make me relive those…terrible, terrible memories. I've worked so hard to…"

The conversation came to an abrupt halt when a young Vulcan attendant entered and handed Torok a large glass. He immediately nodded, dismissing her. Returning his nod, she quickly turned and left the room.

"Would you like some water, Commander? I imagine that your ordeal has made you thirsty." Torok handed the glass to Tucker.

"Thanks," Tucker mumbled. He raised the glass to his lips and drank.

"I spoke to T'Pol while you were unconscious," Torok said. "She was concerned that I might have injured you. It took some effort on my part, but I believe I finally set her mind at ease."

"T'Pol takes her job as first officer very seriously," Tucker answered tightly. He leaned over and set the glass on the floor. "She's always lookin' out for the crew."

"Her concern seemed to be motivated by more than duty," Torok said quietly. "But then you obviously know her better than I do."

Tucker gripped one tightly balled fist with his other hand. Yeah, I know her, he thought. I know her too well. In his mind, he could see her face so clearly. He could almost feel the warmth…the softness of her skin beneath his finger tips. He could hear her call his name…as she rejected him once again. Trip couldn't stop himself from flinching slightly. This has to stop, he scolded himself. I have to accept that my relationship with T'Pol is over. It's over!

"Are you still unwell, young man?" Torok asked, breaking into Tucker's thoughts. "Would you like me to send for the doctor again?"

"No. I'm fine." Tucker sniffed and straightened his back. No matter how bad he felt, he was determined not to let it show. A Vulcan would not appreciate his emotionalism, and he knew that he did not want to appear weak in front of this man. He had to pull himself together. "Now that you've poked around in my brain," he finally murmured, "I suppose you think you've got me all figured out."

"Soval warned me about the unpredictability of the human mind, and he was, of course, quite correct," Torok said. "Your mind is an incredibly tempestuous place. At first glance, I was only aware of the rampant emotionalism and disorder, but, surprisingly, beneath it all, you possess a solid foundation of logic and discipline. I could spend many months trying to analyze your thought processes, but that is not why you are here."

The high priest picked up his cane, planted one end firmly on the floor and rested both hands on the gnarled knob. "You are searching for a way to free yourself from the dark thoughts that are slowly destroying your katra. I will do all that is within my power to assist you, but, in the final analysis, you must find a way to help yourself, young man."

Torok looked sternly at Tucker. "You have a brilliant mind and yet there are some truths you refuse to accept. Why do you find it so easy to help a friend who has suffered a loss, and yet you refuse to deal with your own grief? You cannot hide from emotional pain by burying your feelings deep in the recesses of your mind."

"I deal with my problems," Trip responded defensively. "Sometimes it just takes me awhile to get the job done. I came to grips with Lizzie's death while we were in the Expanse. Ask T'Pol. She was there."

"Do not forget that I have seen your thoughts, Commander. I know that your sister's death still haunts you. You may have said good-bye to her, but you have never really let her go."

"How can I? She was my sister," Trip said pleadingly.

"I know it will be difficult, but it is something that you must do, both to preserve her memory and to restore your own peace of mind. By constantly denying your feelings, you have chosen to walk a dangerous path. Can't you see that your constant struggle to keep your painful memories locked away only increases your vulnerability? It only takes one unguarded moment for everything to come rushing back, and once again you are bereft."

Torok paused. His forehead wrinkled as though he was trying to solve some weighty problem. "You are consumed by guilt, young man, and I do not understand why. You bear some responsibility for the death of the cogenitor, but the other losses you have suffered are not of your making."

"You don't understand," Trip whispered. He rose and walked across the room.

"I would like to understand. Perhaps you can explain it to me."

Trip looked back over his shoulder then dropped his head. He knew he couldn't avoid talking about the deaths that haunted his dreams, but it didn't make it any easier.

"Come back and sit down," Torok said.

Trip was somewhat surprised by the sympathetic tone in the priest's voice. He hadn't expected that from a Vulcan of Torok's age or station in life.

"I want to see your face when you speak to me, young man."

"You don't have to do this, sir," Trip said softly. "I know it's an imposition. I can work things out for myself."

"Vulcans do not turn away from people in need. Now sit down and explain to me why you have allowed grief and guilt to take control of your life."

A shudder passed through Trip's body. Thoroughly defeated, he walked over and sank gracelessly down on the bench. "I know I haven't done a good job of handling my grief, but it doesn't control me," he said shakily. "When we were in the Expanse, I didn't have time to sit in my room and mourn for Lizzie, or Crewmen Taylor or any of the others. People depended on me to keep the ship running, and I did my job."

"And in order to do that you had to ignore your own well-being? Going without food or sleep does not increase your productivity."

Trip leaned back and rested his exhausted body against the wall. "I've had a problem with insomnia since I was a kid. As for food...well…sometimes I get busy with repairs, and I just forget to eat. There's nothing wrong with that."

Suddenly Trip bristled and his eyes flashed with anger. "Now wait just a minute! If you've got some half-baked idea that I'm self-destructive, you can think again! I want to live as much as anybody else!"

"And yet you neglect your health."

"I'm not all that fragile, ya know. I've gone without sleep before and I'll probably do it again. Sometimes it's necessary."

"Do you know what causes your insomnia?"

"Not really," Trip said as he nervously ran his fingers through his hair. "It seems like I've always had trouble sleepin'. My mama thinks it's because my mind's always goin' a mile a minute."

"You don't believe that?"

Trip shrugged. "There may be some truth in it. I think it's mainly because of the dreams."

"Dreams?"

"Yeah. Not dreams really, but nightmares. Even as a kid I always figured there were monsters under my bed. T'Pol really saved my life…helpin' me with the Vulcan neuropressure the way she did. An hour spent with her, and I'd sleep straight through the night." Tucker ducked his head. "I owe her a lot."

"Why do you feel responsible for the death of your child?"

Caught off guard, Trip leaned forward and gripped the edge of the bench tightly with both hands. He gritted his teeth as a wave of grief threatened to overwhelm him. In his mind, he once again saw the beautiful little baby, so like her mother with her delicate pointed ears.

Trip took a moment more to compose himself then murmured, "I wasn't there for her when she needed me." He lifted his eyes and looked at Torok beseechingly. "Don't you see? If I could have gotten to her sooner, Doctor Phlox might have been able to save her."

"You do not believe that, young man," Torok said softly. "You know that the child was doomed from before her birth."

"No!" Trip shook his head adamantly. "I know we could have found a way to save her. T'Pol and I could have worked with Phlox. If I had just worked harder…" Trip dropped his head and a sob caught in his throat. He was her father. It was his duty to care for her.

"You must accept that you are blameless in her death, and let her go."

"She's my daughter," Trip choked out. "I can't let her go."

"Of course you can. She was an innocent child and yet you allow her memory to poison your spirit. Doesn't she deserve more from you?"

Trip brushed his hand across his cheeks to wipe away the tears. "I guess so."

"You will always cherish her, but cherish her for what she was, not for what she could never be. You are blameless in this. Is that so hard to accept?"

"Yes," Trip answered in a hushed voice. "She was my future and I let her slip away." He took a deep breath and tried to explain. "When I saw Elizabeth for the first time, I knew she was everything I had ever wanted. With the baby alive and well, T'Pol and I could have built a life together. We could have been happy. But then Elizabeth died." Trip raised a trembling hand to his head and pressed his fingers against his temple. "After awhile, there seemed to be nothing left for us, and I lost T'Pol, too." He looked over at Torok with anguished eyes. "You've seen my thoughts. You know how much I care for both of them. How do I fill the hole in my life?"

"I cannot answer that. You and T'Pol must find your own way. It may be together. Then again, you may choose separate paths. We cannot compel others to care for us, just as we cannot prolong the lives of those whose time has come."

"I know," Trip said in a voice barely above a whisper.

"You must accept that you bear no guilt for the death of your sister or your fellow crewmen." Torok looked intently at Tucker. "You must accept that your child died because of the malevolence of others and not through any fault of your own."

Trip shook his head wearily. "I understand what you're tellin' me, but…"

"But?"

"They trusted me. Even when I was right there, I couldn't stop it from happenin'. I should have been able to do somethin'…"

"The power over life and death does not rest in your hands, young man" Torok said firmly. "Until you can learn to grieve and ultimately accept the losses that come to each of us as we age, you will never find peace. Are you willing to sacrifice your career and live out the remainder of your life as a martyr to your lost friends and relatives?"

"You don't understand," Tucker cried in a tortured voice.

"Then make me understand!" Torok's voice reverberated throughout the chamber.

"I don't know how." Totally spent, Trip dropped his head and covered his face with his hands.

Torok thumped his cane once on the floor and then slowly got to his feet. "That is enough for today."

Trip sniffed and dropped his hands. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to waste your time. If somebody would bring me my uniform, I'll be on my way."

"I would like you to stay with us for awhile longer," Torok said softly. "I will send someone to show you to a room for the night."

"That really isn't necessary, sir. I've already taken up too much of your time."

"Nonsense. We will talk again tomorrow, after you have rested. If you are unable to sleep, young man, please feel free to call upon our physician. He will see to your needs." Before Tucker could protest further, Torok turned and walked slowly out of the chamber.

TBC