And I've really got to tell you
Exactly how I feel
And make you understand
That love ain't playing this time
This is for real

And if I could, I'd change what I am
But without you baby, I don't give a damn
Because what I am won't change until you change it
To anything you want it to be
Oh, I'm putting my trust in you

~This Is For Real by Aretha Franklin

He held her hand, allowing her grief to wash over their bond in massive crashing waves. It threatened to carry him away, drown him. It was a wild maelstrom emanating from her, contained only barely. Like watching a hurricane through plexiglass as it tore up trees and vehicles. She was grinding his knuckles together in her distress to contain herself. In silence he bore the physical pain. He knew his emotions were adding fuel to the fire. That he was stoking her grief into some unimaginable hot torrent that was going to consume her and probably him too.

He began to wrangle his emotions in so that he could take a burden off of her when suddenly he felt unbearably hot. And it felt like someone had walked over his grave. And he was… so hot…

He felt T'Pol give a surprised jerk as she yanked her hand from his then the world started going dark. He heard her yelling in renewed anguish for Dr. Phlox to get to her quarters immediately.

What was wrong? He was fine a second ago, not accounting for the soul wrenching loss he had been feeling. He passed out.

He awoke to the faint beeping of machines and murmurings of Phlox's medical pet menagerie. He was still so hot. Sweat slicked his whole body, making it readily apparent that he was only in his skivvies under a sheet that clung to him like a second uncomfortable skin. He felt like he'd been run over by a rogue shuttlepod. And the headache...it pounded to the beat of his heart, a slow drum. He squinted behind closed eyes at the sterile white light that was bleeding through his lids.

But he felt worry from nearby. From the bond. Worry and still raw, ragged grief. T'Pol.

He opened his eyes and looked over where he sensed her. The movement sent a strong jolt of hope and excitement through the bond, causing him to wince a bit.

"Trip. You passed out with a sudden fever in my quarters. Do you know what has caused your ailment?" T'Pol's eyes shined with worry, her brow ever so slightly wrinkled, lips faintly pressed together. She placed her hand over his on the biobed, next to his side.

Trip gave a pained smile at her. "I have no idea darlin'. It hit me real quick. Heat and like the Ghost of Christmas Future had run a finger up and down my spine. Then nothing."

"Ah. From the human parable on overcoming greed and becoming charitable! Hm-hm. Mainly heard during the Earth's Christian religious time of year. Not entirely pertinent to your current situation." He heard quick footsteps coming from Dr. Phlox's office and slowly turned his head to the bustling Denobulan.

"Ah, Mr. Tucker! Good to see you awake! Sub-Commander T'Pol here has been waiting most patiently for your return to consciousness. Let me just grab some readings real quick now that you're up." Phlox grabbed a PADD off of a counter and walked over.

"Good to see you Doc. Got an inkling of the designation number of the shuttlepod that rammed into me? Everything hurts. And it feels like I still got a fever? I'm sweatin' more'n a hooker durin' mass." Trip stared at the ceiling, realizing that his throat and mouth were dry as a bone. "You got some water lyin' around Doc? I could drink like a fish right about now."

The Denobulan motioned at T'Pol to collect some water. "There are some glass straws next to the door. If it hurts the Commander to move too much, it will help stop him from dribbling all over my floor. Hm-hm. Now that you're awake, let's do a comparison to your vitals while you were out." T'Pol reluctantly pulled her hand away and stood, gracefully walking over to the sink to pour a glass of water. The biobed reclined back and Phlox ran the bed's scanner over Trip. He glanced between the PADD and screen hovering above Trip's head multiple times, hmm-ing and huh-ing and tutting as he compared data.

He felt too drained to get annoyed that there was no information being relayed to him. Exhaustion was making its home deep in his bones. He was getting tired of being the punch line for the ancient Chinese curse 'may you live in interesting times.' He glanced and smiled tiredly as T'Pol returned with the glass of water, straw already inserted. Sitting back down, she oriented the straw towards his mouth and held it there as he greedily sucked down the water. She pulled it away after he consumed half.

"Drinking too fast is not good for you. We will wait a minute then resume hydrating." Trip nodded weakly, then stared back up at the ceiling. He refrained from smiling when he felt the Vulcan's hand cover his once again, strengthening the torrent of emotions from her once again. He turned his hand over so he could brush his thumb over her fingers.

He drank the rest of the water as the ship's doctor finally seemed to be satisfied with his exam. "Commander, do you wish T'Pol to remain before I discuss my findings?" The Denobulan maintained his professional demeanor, but his eyes revealed some discomfort as he looked at the Vulcan.

"Depends on if it's good news or bad news. Which is it?" Trip joked lightly. He gently squeezed T'Pol's hand to let her know he wasn't serious. When the Denobulan began to take his statement seriously and was about to answer, Trip waved him off. "Just jokin'. O'course she can stay. Don't want to let her outta my sight for a while if I can help it. Crazy life events and all that."

The Doctor smiled warmly. "Of course Commander. Now, I will preface this by saying I have no idea how this is occurring. It is something even Denobula has not been able to achieve in genetic engineering."

Trip and T'Pol immediately were on guard, considering their last encounter with genetics had resulted in their current grief. Seeing them tense, Phlox made placating gestures. "It's nothing bad I assure you. It's just...impossible. At least in humans it is, in this current age of genetics. Not even Dr. Soong was able to achieve this."

Trip gestured for Dr. Phlox to get to the point. "I'm not getting any younger Doc. Spit it out. The suspense is killing me."

"Commander, time will never kill you. You have gained biological immortality. Every telomere in your body has repaired itself as if you were just born. Currently dividing cells are not showing damage to them either. Even further than that, some of your DNA has new chromosome pairs now. You are still quintessentially human, but you have extraneous pairs now that…"

The breath was knocked out of Trip. He stared dumbstruck at Dr. Phlox. What was happening? He didn't know what to feel about this information. Immortal? "Like a lobster?," he blurted out.

"Yes and no. You will not be subject to dying from energy expenditure to shed your exoskeleton. You will look like you do now until disease, injury, or environmental effects kill you. And as I was saying… Mr. Tucker… I do not like to tear into open wounds and this is why I asked if you wanted T'Pol here. Your DNA strands now match in exact lengths to Vulcan DNA." The doctor paused, waiting expectantly with a very pointed look on his face.

It hit T'Pol instantly. Joy and cautious hope slammed into Trip through their bond like a freight train, almost knocking him out cold if it weren't for the fact that his hand was in a Vulcan vice grip to keep him awake. He felt her shaking through their grip. Confused, he looked between his bonded Vulcan and the stone faced doctor as they seemed to wordlessly communicate.

"Anyone gonna fill in the man who works with machines instead of bodies?"

T'Pol broke the meaningful gaze first to look at him with tears forming in her eyes. "It means we are now compatible mates without needing medical intervention."

It finally hit him. He stared wide-eyed at the woman he loved. "We can…?"

Ignoring that Phlox was present, T'Pol launched herself at Trip, hugging him tightly. "We can have a family."

Trip began to cry, kissing the top of his bonded's head. He had so many emotions banging around in him, he didn't know what to think right now. Hope. Joy. Grief. He was even a little scared, like he was dreaming, like none of this could possibly be real. Everything was becoming overwhelming and he didn't want to seem ungrateful about his fortunes turning, but he really needed to process. So did T'Pol. They both needed to process.

Not letting go of his love, he turned to look at the doctor who was now studiously staring at his PADD in a poor attempt to give them privacy. "When's the other shoe gonna drop Doc? Got anything else to throw at us to rattle us up more?"

The doctor looked disgruntled. "Unfortunately yes. Your fever is due to several physiological changes occurring from the DNA alteration. Many are happening all at once and abnormally rapidly. I am going to need to sedate you and keep you under a cooling blanket to ensure that you do not go through organ failure. Your temperature is going to rise steadily until these changes are mostly complete. And I have no idea what these changes are going to be until they are finished. I am going to keep you in sickbay to keep observation on you. And I am going to have to tell the Captain in case whatever happened to you, begins happening to other crewmembers. I don't know what has caused this."

Trip pursed his lips and gently pushed T'Pol away so he could look at her. "We need to tell Doc. About what happened between us. About why we were immune to the Orion women. It might explain what's happening to me." He watched as she looked uncomfortable. After a few moments, she finally nodded.

"I will tell him." She turned to look at the now highly curious Denobulan, visibly steeling her resolve. "It is unlikely that Commander Tucker's condition is contagious. Shortly before I first saw you for…after we dealt with the Sphere-Builder that died here in sickbay..." T'Pol suddenly stopped, a look of shame and worry crossing her face. Trip waited for her to elaborate, but was shocked when the Doctor interrupted.

"I know what you speak of. You don't need to elaborate unless you wish to reveal that information now to the Commander."

Trip's eyebrows furrowed in worry but chose to not prod. The Vulcan need for privacy was a powerful thing, and pressing the issue would just drive T'Pol away. To his surprise, she turned towards him. "I will disclose that particular event myself to the Commander in a more private setting Doctor." She gave a reassuring nod to him, a green flush coloring her cheeks. She took a steadying breath. "Commander Tucker and I were intimate. I believe I, at the time, impulsively mate bonded with him. We share a psychic connection where we can sense each other. It was weak at first, and may have even existed before we mated."

Dr. Phlox's eyebrows were raised in not-quite-surprise. "The reason you were reluctant initially to perform neuropressure on our insomniac Chief Engineer?" T'Pol nodded.

"Neuropressure is meant to be performed with either the same sex or with a future or current mate. It is likely this is why Corporal Cole got headaches when the Commander performed it on her. He had already bonded with me and the bond was rejecting her. Commander Tucker is quite an adept practitioner of Vulcan neuropressure so I do not suspect he was applying it incorrectly."

The engineer winced internally at the jibe of his poorly handled attempt at romance after T'Pol had called their dalliance an experiment in human sexuality. He had loved her and went looking for a rebound because he couldn't handle the rejection. Because what he now suspected was the bond had caused agony in him. That whole period before he came back aboard the Enterprise from the Columbia had been an intense mental exercise in not breaking down screaming in sadness and anger in the middle of the engineering bay or in hallways. Meditation in his quarters or when he got 5 minutes to himself in engineering while he stood next to the comforting hum of the engines was all that kept him sane. The desire to just pass out from the physical relief when he got T'Pol to finally 'fess up to wanting him back due to personal feelings was monumental.

Phlox hummed non-committedly. "I still need to tell the Captain. His Chief Engineer is going to be confined in sickbay for the foreseeable future and I will have to give a valid reason. Communicable illness or not. And we still don't know if what is occurring to him is a result of the bond maturing. I will give him the chance to opt out of not knowing the why but he does have the right to know as it directly affects the running of his ship. I will start by notifying him that the Commander is suffering from idiopathic cellular mutations, that it is not cause for alarm at the moment, and that you do wish for privacy until you are well. But I can't stop him prying further. Is this understood?"

Tucker knew hell was going to be storming down from the bridge as soon as Phlox went up. Jon wouldn't leave the topic alone knowing it was harming his friend. He certainly knew how to beat dead horses.

"In the meantime, I will need to move the Commander into the decon chamber and institute quarantine. I will induce a coma as soon as it is set up. Commander T'Pol, you will remain in Sick Bay for observation for 12 hours until I can determine that you are unaffected." Waving Crewman Cutler over, he began issuing orders to her. Within the hour, he was covered in a cooling blanket, surrounded by monitoring equipment, and out like a light, he last sight and feelings of a worried mate peeking through the decon window.

"WHAT?"

"Captain, there is no need to shout." Dr. Phlox jogged to keep up as a panicked Captain stormed from his ready room, across the bridge, to the lift.

"There is most certainly reason to shout! My Chief Engineer is-"

"That is not for you to share out here Captain! You will refrain from giving away sensitive information about the Commander's situation until you let me explain in private! If you continue to shout about it where everyone can hear, I will submit a formal complaint to Headquarters." Phlox grimaced unhappily at the bridge crew who were openly staring at both him and Captain while they waited for the turbolift. "As you were. Doctor's orders." He shooed them back to work with his hand.

When they sheepishly turned away, Phlox glared up at the Captain. "Never do that again. I didn't even really want to tell you but you would have eventually found out anyways."

Jonathan Archer was impatiently stabbing his finger into the turbolift call button. "Understood Doctor," he growled through clenched teeth. When the lift finally arrived an uncomfortable thirty seconds later, the two men hurried on. As soon as the doors closed, the Captain whirled angrily towards the Denobulan.

"I know you've told me all you are willing to tell me and you know I can force you to tell me everything. I'll let it go for now and hopefully either of the Commanders will tell me on their own. But is Trip going to be okay?" Some of the Captain's anger wilted out of him as he looked tiredly at the turbo lift wall. "Why is it almost always Trip on this ship? And why is it that it's always bad?"

"Besides Lt. Reed, he has one of the most dangerous jobs in this ship. And he often elects to do the more dangerous and delicate jobs in Engineering because he knows he is the most qualified to do them. Captain, Commander Tucker's numerous injuries would likely have been multiple deaths if anyone else tried what he's done. I think the Commander views his several brushes with misfortune and trips to sickbay as a small price to pay."

"And those things that sickbay can't fix? Like Sim, or his sister? The children that have both died before he really got to know them?" The turbolift finally drifted to a stop and let them out.

As they exited the Denobulan patted Archer reassuringly on the shoulder. "He has friends like you to help. Some people, despite being kind and altruistic, simply get dealt terrible hands in life. I find that the Commander often… Oh what was that saying again… ah hah! He often takes lemons and makes lemonade."

Jon smirked a bit. "Indeed he does. Though it might be sweet tea with lemons instead. Damn Southerners."

When they finally arrived, Jon only got a glimpse of his first officer hitting the sickbay floor before Phlox shoved him out of sickbay and locked the doors in his face.

"Phlox! Doctor!" Archer slammed his fists into the sickbay doors.

"Captain, sick bay is now under quarantine protocol," Phlox's voice came out of the intercom next to the sickbay doors. "I suggest you notify Startfleet that Enterprise is on lockdown until Cutler and I determine what is happening. You need to also isolate yourself in your quarters and keep me updated on any symptoms. Avoid contact with other crew members. I will be going over the intercom shortly to notify the crew of this unfortunate development. Should any crew approach you, you must also tell them to isolate in quarters."

Jon backed away from the sick bay doors in shock. "You said it wasn't contagious! How is this spreading?!"

"That was before T'Pol's passing out. She had no symptoms until just now. Her Vulcan physiology may have slowed it's spread through her system. And idiopathic literally means I have no idea why something is happening medically. Go Captain. Now. I will keep you updated."

"For fuck's sake." Archer yelled as he turned and began jogging down the hallway.

Dr. Phlox's voice began to fill the corridors of Enterprise. "Attention crew of the Enterprise and any Startfleet repair and refit personnel from planetside that are on board. This is the ship's Medical Officer, Dr. Phlox. This ship is now under quarantine. Anyone who has been in contact with Commanders Tucker and T'Pol in the last 48 hours should proceed directly to their quarters and remain there. Report this by intercom to your immediate supervisor. If you have symptoms of passing out for a short period followed by any sort of fever please contact me in sickbay. That is all."

Phlox turned towards Cutler. "What is her status?"

The Crewman was about to answer from beside T'Pol on the floor, when the Vulcan suddenly came to with a start. She looked around in confusion. "Why am I on the floor?"

"Commander, you passed out right as I walked into sickbay. Do you feel unusually warm? Anything out of the ordinary? Has putting Commander Tucker into an induced coma affected your bond negatively?"

T'Pol arched an eyebrow in surprise at the flood out questions. "I feel fine. I can still sense Commander Tucker just fine. It's like when he is in a deep sleep. I am afraid however, that in the panic of Trip passing out in my quarters and the grief I still feel, that I failed to mention something pertinent. Right as the Commander passed out I felt a very strong shock pass through where our hands were touching and a small psychic shock." She slowly stood up, more for the anxious hovering medical staff's benefit than her own. "I apologize for my oversight. I let my emotions at Trip's distress rule me." She flushed in embarrassment.

"Nothing to apologize about. You now experience emotions in a way that no Vulcans except the V'tosh ka'tur do. They do it by choice. You do not T'Pol. At some point you will need to talk to a psychiatrist to learn how to cope with them when your logic fails you." Phlox guided T'Pol gently over to a biobed. "Please lay down so I can scan you. I had to put the ship into quarantine lockdown, and the faster I can find out what is going on, the faster I can lift the lockdown. It also means that Captain Archer will be less inclined to yell at me." He gave an amused chuckle.

As T'Pol laid on the bed, she rubbed her fingers together, remembering the shock that had come from Trip's hand and into hers. There was no scientific reason for it. You didn't get the painful shock that came from static electricity unless you initiated a touch. They had already been touching. Her eyebrows drew together as she went through her memory for anything that could explain it.

It was about 15 minutes into her contemplation that she heard Dr. Phlox give a surprised gasp. Distracted from her musings she turned to look at the physician. "What is it Doctor?"

"Whatever it is that has affected Commander Tucker's DNA is also affecting yours. You are also now biologically immortal. But there are no other modifications besides that. Which explains why you are not suffering from a fever. Fascinating." He tutted and hmm'd as he inspected a static picture of her blood, magnifying it and moving around to different quadrants.

"This is going to take me a while. If you are feeling up to it, yours and Crewman Cutler's help would be most appreciated in cataloging all viruses and bacteria in yours and Commander Tucker's blood samples and comparing them to the data base. The only explanation is that a virus has gained mutagenic properties or that, most improbably, you both had spontaneous mutations during a cell division. In the case of Commander Tucker, the scope off mutation was abnormally large."

T'Pol rose from the best. "I am fine to assist." The Doctor motioned over to a display that brought up the same static picture.

"Then let us get started Commander."