Trip

He's on T'Khut when it happens. He almost hadn't come today. He had been able to tell through the bond that T'Pol had been feeling off for the past couple of days and he had told her would stay home to be close to her. Both T'Les and T'Pol had told him he was being illogical, that T'Khut was only 35 minutes away by shuttle, that if anything happened he could be home quickly, that T'Les would there if it did, and that his must honour his responsibilities. It's hard enough to argue an intuitive feeling with one Vulcan almost impossible against two, so he had pushed down his worry and come. He should have listened to instincts.

It happens so suddenly it's painful. One minute he's in a normal conversation with T'Lara and the Vulcan technician, next thing he's lying on the floor feeling like his head's exploded with, two Vulcans looking blandly down at him as if it's perfectly normal for a person to pass out mid sentence. He has a fleeting memory of a wave of agony passing over him, then a kind of absence, a nothingness that felt somewhat like his brain was collapsing in on itself but that he can only describe as pain. He has no idea how long he was on the floor before he regained awareness but he lies there for a moment, disoriented and hurting, before he realises she's gone.

He hadn't been aware of how long she'd been there, long before the wedding a couple of months before. She'd been so much a part of him he hadn't even recognised there was another consciousness nestled next to his own. With virtually no telepathic skills to speak of he'd had no way of distinguishing another mind from his. But now she has completely vanished, her absence is a gaping hole in his soul.

"T'Pol!" He sits up too suddenly and a wave of dizziness passes over him.

Awareness comes over T'Lara and she makes the unusual move of touching him to help him sit up. "Has something happened to T'Pol?" She asks as she assists to him to a seated position.

"Yes... I think so.. I don't know, I can't..." He shakes his head, confused, and squeezes his eyes between his hand. "I can't feel her, she's gone." Panic starts to overwhelm him, especially when a look of worry flashes over T'Lara's face. It's never a good sign when a Vulcan shows emotion.

It only takes her a moment to compose herself before she turns to the technician and tells him to contact the shuttle port and arrange an urgent transport to take Trip back to Vulcan. Then she's goes over to a table, gets Trip a glass of water and waits calmly for him to drink and gather his wits.

He almost doesn't want to ask the next question but has to know. "Is she... if I can feel her does that mean she's..." he can't bear to say the word.

T'Lara looks thoughtful. "I don't believe so, I do not think you would be coherent if she was deceased." She has no compunction about voicing what he couldn't, trust a Vulcan to be blunt.

She takes the empty glass and helps him to his feet. "Of course, there are no records of previous human/Vulcan bondings to guide us as to how the human partner would react to the death of the Vulcan bondmate," She tells him looking thoughtful, still Vulcan in her candidness and killing the hope she had just granted him. "But I believe it is likely that she has gone into a trance, which is normal when..."

She is interrupted by the sound of Trip's communicator chiming with a call from T'Les, which, under the circumstances, he answers without waiting for her to finish her sentence.

Then he is running.

He can hear his foot falls echoing in the cavernous halls of the testing facility. Vulcan public spaces tend to replicate the din of an academic library. Any noise above the decibels of a quiet murmur tends to draw attention, so his race to the shuttle draws the attention of every Vulcan he passes. It seems Vulcans only run if they are being chased by something.

T'Les was right, it is only a thirty-five minute shuttle ride from T'Khut to the surface. What she failed to take into account is that the shuttle port is at the opposite end of the huge Science Academy complex on T'Khut and it's a fifteen minute drive from the shuttle port in Shi'kahr to T'Les' house. This means he has a full hour to panic and imagine worst case scenarios before he bursts through the door to find T'Les and two of the specialists standing calmly in the living room holding cups, as though they have gathered for a tea party rather than a medical emergency.

"Where is she?" He gasps out, He has adapted pretty well to the environment since he arrived but running up twenty-eight stairs is pushing his Vulcan adjusted fitness level to its limits. He starts heading towards their bedroom but T'Les stops him with her hand.

"Doctor T'Karra will brief you on T'Pol's condition. Your assistance will be required so you will need to contain your emotions before you enter the room." She tells him with a raised eyebrow. It's the Vulcan equivalent of 'pull yourself together man'.

The Doctor motions towards the living room seats, indicating Trip should sit. He complies and starts to do the meditational breathing T'Pol has been teaching him over the two months since the wedding. They had been preparing for this.

T'Karra waits calmly for him to centre himself while T'Les brings him a large glass of water. He's noticed that Vulcans seem to want to ply him with fluid anytime his emotions go beyond acceptable levels.

He finishes the water and looks at the Doctor with raised eyebrows.

T'Karra nods slightly and begins. "As T'Les explained when she contacted you, T'Pol's condition progressed very rapidly and she entered a partial trance, which happens in some cases, but is quite dangerous. For her own safety we had to medically induce a trance but the drugs will affect her coherence. You will be required to connect with her through the bond and guide her through the process."

"How do I connect with her, I can't feel her."

"That is a result of the partial trance. Once she is in a full trance and you are in physical contact with her and in a meditational state you should should have no difficulty."

Trip nods, he's had a bit of a crash course in all this over the past few months but they hadn't really covered much of the worst case scenarios. "Why has this happened, is it because of her neural damage or because of... the human factor?"

T'Karra is Vulcan so won't commit to any hypothesis that is not proven. "It could be either, both or neither. The failure to enter a full trance happens in about five percent of cases with no obvious cause. Her situation is unique so we have no baseline of data to extrapolate from."

He puts his tongue in his cheek. "What if I can't reach her?"

"There is no reason to believe that should happen. You have an exceptionally strong bond. You were able to meet telepathically even before the bond was complete and with light years between you. There is no reason to to suppose you will not be able to achieve it now, but if you cannot, surgical intervention will be necessary."

He nods and purses his lips thoughtfully. He hasn't had a lot of time to prepare for this. He worries he's going to let her down again. He watches as a man comes from the direction of the bedrooms and murmurs something to T'Karra.

"The medication is starting to take effect, we should go through to her now." T'Karra tells him.

He nods and stands up. As he follows T'Karra across the living room he thinks to himself that T'Les should probably bring him a drink of water about now.

As they approach the door he feels her mind again reaching out to him. He feels her fear, her panic, her confusion. He goes to her side as soon as he enters the room and takes her hand. He's not sure if she even knows he's there.

"I'm here, baby. It's okay, I'm here."

"Trip?" She mutters his name but doesn't turn her head.

"That's right, I'm here." He pushes back her damp hair from her face.

"I'm here, it's okay, I'm here." He tells her softly as he presses his lips against her forehead.

He climbs onto the bed and sits behind her, holding her against his chest, her head flops back on his shoulder. He can still feel the turmoil of her mind, fighting for comprehension, even though it seems like she is unconscious. He concentrates on his breathing, trying to find the state of relaxation where he can enter her consciousnesses.

"Just relax, baby," he whispers, feeling her succumb to the drug "that's right, just breathe..."

XXX

T'Pol

"T'Pol". She is emerges out of her meditation at the sound of her softly spoken name. She looks up to find him leaning against the cupboard at the end of her bed.

"Commander Tucker, I hope there is a good reason for you invading my privacy by entering my quarters uninvited?"

"There is actually." He gives her a enigmatic grin. "Come on," he holds out a hand to her. "We have to go."

She raises an eyebrow at him and gets up from her cushion, ignoring his hand. "I assume there is some manner of emergency which has taken out the comms system and disabled the bell on my door, prompting you to come personally to summon me."

He give her a smirk. "Something like that." He turns to the door and palms the lock to open it. He stands in the open door watching her, waiting for her to follow him. She moves to follow him but stops when his gaze drops to her meditation candle sitting, still lit, on the floor of her quarters.

"I think you should bring that with you." He tells her with complete sincerity as he moves through the door. He stops abruptly and turns to look at her intently. "Don't let it go out."

She cants her head and raises her eyebrows, but picks up the candle and follows him out into the corridor. He tips his head in the direction of the stern and walks ahead of her. She moves to follow him but it feels like the gravity has increased by a couple of factors and she struggles to lift her feet.

"Is there a malfunction in the grav-plating." She asks him as she shuffles along behind him.

"Something like that." He responds. She can't help noticing that he is walking with apparent ease.

Suddenly the whole ship shudders and she is violently thrown to the deck, the lit candle clutched in her hand. She feels a surge of fear. Whatever happens, she can't drop it or let it go out.

"Are you okay?" He crouches down in front of her but doesn't help her get up or offer to hold the candle for her.

"It's very difficult." She tells him, as she pushes herself off the floor with one hand.

He twists his mouth a bit. "I know, I'm sorry, but I can't help you. I can only guide you."

She feels confused by this situation. He is being illogical, this whole situation is illogical, but her feet just seem to follow him of their own volition. She moves forward, dragging her entire body against the increased gravity. The ship shudders again but she manages to stay on her feet. She notices that gravity seems to decrease significantly during the shaking and she is able to move further forward.

She concentrates on following Trip, who seems to stay a few steps ahead of her, no matter how quickly or slowly she moves. The periods of quaking get longer and closer together so it takes a huge amount of energy to keep from falling over, from dropping her precious cargo as they progress slowly down the corridor. She can now barely move when the quaking stops, instead she leans against the wall and gathers strength for the next onslaught.

He turns and smiles gently at her. "You're doing great. You're nearly there."

Nearly where? She doesn't even know why they are doing this but she lacks the energy to interrogate him about the reasoning behind this irrational journey. Yet, at the same time, she is filled with certainty that she must do it, that she must get to wherever they are going. She pushes the conflicting thoughts out of her mind. Lives depend on her. She's doesn't know whose lives, so far they haven't seen a single crew member other than each other.

Finally he stops outside the launch bay. She has no idea how long they had been walking, she has always had an acute awareness of time passing, a skill further honed by her years with the V'Shar. But now her perception is completely skewed, it feels like they have been walking for hours and no time at all. She is certain there is not a single corridor on enterprise that is this long. Certainly not one that leads directly from her quarters to the launch bay, they should have turned at least four corners to get get here.

She doesn't bother to think too hard about it. She slumps against the bulkhead, drained by the immense effort just to get here. He crouches down in front of her again and takes her hand, looking into her face with concern.

"Just a little bit further, I promise." He takes her hand up to his mouth and presses a kiss into her palm.

"I want to rest." She tells him but the shuddering starts up again compelling her forward. She rises up awkwardly. She feels betrayed by her body which seems so weak and uncoordinated but won't stop pushing forward even in all its fatigue. She struggles into the launch bay, she can see the shuttle pod ahead, she just needs to get there. She's not even sure how she makes it. He doesn't let go of her hand, but doesn't help her. She resents how easy this is for him.

They finally reach the shuttle she reaches in and places the candle on the seat next to the door and drags herself inside and sits on the floor facing the bow. She puts the still lit candle on floor in front of her. She slumps down, exhausted, her usual upright posture gone. He sits behind her and she doesn't even wonder why he is being so familiar with her, he is supposed to be there. She sags back against him and rests her head in his shoulder.

He brushes his lips over her forehead. "You're nearly there darlin', just keep going for a little bit."

The launch bay doors open and the shuttle abruptly drops into space. She wonders for a moment who is flying it, but suddenly a bright light floods in through the front window temporarily blinding her and she gasps, closes her eyes and turns her face into Trip's neck.

When she opens her eyes everything has changed. She isn't on Enterprise, or even the shuttle pod, but in her bedroom, in her mother's house, sitting up on her bed with Trip behind her. There are several people in the room talking in hushed voices but she can't make out what they are saying because there is a strange wailing noise and Trip seems to be half laughing and half crying and kissing the side of her face while repeatedly telling her that she'd done it.

She becomes aware of her fatigue and pain and starts to shudder.

"Is she okay? Should she be shaking like this." Trip asks one of the people in the room

"She is in shock. It is not uncommon after a medically induced trance. It will pass naturally." Comes the reply, she doesn't know who said it, she can't seem to focus on anything going on around her.

Suddenly one of the attendants approaches her carrying a small bundle loosely wrapped in a blanket. Trip, in response to something the woman says, gently parts the top of her robe, exposing her chest. The woman partially unwraps the bundle and places it against her bare skin. It is warm, and soft, and slightly sticky and she looks down looks down with wonder into the screwed up, slightly indignant face of her newborn son.

The jolt of emotion clears the remaining fog from the trance and shock and she holds him against her chest and turns her face to Trip's and he palms a tear of his cheek and smiles at her and kisses her softly. They look down at their son and she realises that they have done it. After months of pain and fear, an uncertainty, and loneliness; they found their way back to each other and to this moment together.

The bond is open and she can feel Trip's pride, his awe and his love for them both washing over her and mingling with her own. She feels her chest constrict with the enormity of it all. They are family now, forever, and she sits in his ams, both looking down at their miracle child and watching him breathe.

XXX