Was it terrible?
When they stepped into the corridor outside sickbay, Trip halted the moment the doors closed behind them. T'Pol turned and looked at him with one eyebrow arched.
"Commander, your quarters are in this direction." she informed him, putting a glacial shield of Vulcan formality between them.
"I have no doubt that they are, but I have to ask you something." he said, shaking his head. Waiting for no prompting, he asked her, "Do people still eat in this day and age? They did in mine, and I'm awful hungry after being poked and prodded for almost four hours straight. I swear, I've been taken apart and put back together again."
"You want something to eat?"
"That would be ideal."
"As an experiment, can you guess which way it is to the mess hall?" she inquired.
Trip rolled his eyes and sighed loudly, but answered, "That a way?" He pointed in the opposite direction of his quarters and, strangely enough, in the appropriate direction.
"Very good." said T'Pol with a barely perceptible nod. "Were you guessing or did you have an intuitive feeling?"
"I sort of had a feeling." he admitted uncomfortably.
"Perhaps you haven't lost all of your memory from the last twelve years. Perhaps those memories still exist on a subconscious level." postulated T'Pol as they walked toward the mess hall.
"That would be better than nothing."
"Indeed, it would be." she agreed.
The mess hall was empty, but, of course, it was long after hours for most of the crew. Despite his professed hunger, Tucker walked straight to the nearest window and looked out at the stars with an expression of wonder on his otherwise tired features. The stars were rushing by; the normally pristine pin pricks of light becoming long and colorful streaks as they traveled at warp. It was an awe-inspiring sight, just like the first time the commander had traveled in a warp speed vessel, an event that he did not fully recollect.
"How fast do you reckon we're traveling?" he questioned, glancing over his shoulder at T'Pol, who stood observing him with her hands clasped behind her back.
"I do not know our exact speed, but I would estimate it between warp 4.2 and warp 4.4." she told him.
Trip gave a long whistle at the numbers and shook his head. He had never heard of a Star Fleet vessel going that fast.
"What's the top speed for this ship?"
"Theoretically, it is warp 5." T'Pol answered. "I thought you were hungry." she reminded him.
"I guess seeing this made me forget about my appetite." said Trip, nodding toward the window and the stars.
"Understandable." conceded T'Pol, walking toward the case of leftovers from the last meal. "There is a salad and some pie ..., Trip." she informed him.
"Perfect, but what about you?" he asked.
"I am not hungry."
"Aw, come on now. I know Vulcans got to eat just like everybody else."
"I will have some tea." she said, acquiescing as her stomach fluttered. Memory or no memory, he was still the same man who had made a fruit salad for her and persuaded her to try tuna.
"Could I get some milk or maybe some soda pop with my pie?" he asked.
"Soda pop?" she questioned evenly.
"It's a ... carbonated drink with ..." he began to explain.
"An abundance of sugar and caffeine. Perhaps milk would be best." she said, finishing his statement in Vulcan English.
"All right." he said, watching her remove the dinner selections from the case. "You don't have to do that. I think I could manage."
"You should not exert yourself. The doctor expected me to take you directly to your quarters. If something happens, I would be to blame." she said as an excuse. More honestly, she wanted to repay Trip for the meal he had prepared and shared with her during their misadventure.
"I hardly think it's a crime to feed a hungry cadet." said Trip with a smile.
She frowned as she filled their cups at the machine. Was he flirting with her? Or was it merely his sense of humor.
"You are not a cadet." she said stiffly.
He recognized the change in her tone and asked, "Did I say something wrong? If so, I didn't mean to offend."
"It is all right." she said, taking a seat with him at a table near the window.
She sipped her tea and kept her eyes on the window and the rushing stars as he ate his rather frugal meal. To him it seemed as though she were brooding. Trip wasn't sure whether Vulcans brooded or not, but something was on her mind and, he surmised, it had something to do with him or his situation.
"You and Phlox never finished explaining about those three days." he remarked.
T'Pol turned her head slowly from the window and looked at him without expression. Setting her cup down on the table, she seemed almost to sigh softly.
"The doctor is not in a position to explain. He has no memory of the events about which you inquire."
"And you?"
"I have recovered mine."
"Was it terrible?"
The question was unexpected. She blinked rapidly, her eyes stinging suddenly without reason. She found that she wanted to rub her eyes again, but clasped her hands in her lap instead. Terrible? It was strange that he should ask about the events in that way. It would not have occurred to her to phrase it thus.
"No, it was not terrible."
"What was it like then?" pressed Tucker, leaning slightly toward her across the table.
"I do not believe that a detailed description of the incident is required. Your memory will return soon."
Tucker chuckled and shook his head, but he wasn't surprised by her answer: Vulcans were always cryptic, secretive, difficult to read. This one, no matter how pretty, wasn't any different.
"Well, I can only hope that what I've lost will one day be found." he
said, tipping his cup of milk toward her and winking.
A few minutes later T'Pol walked him to his quarters. Something seemed to be hanging over them like a cloud. If the wrong words were spoken, it would rain upon them both. She was reticent to speak, and he felt like he had already said enough. They stood there in awkward silence for a moment before Trip worked up the courage to say something to her.
"Do you want to come inside? You could make sure I find everything okay." he suggested, feeling a slight color creep into his cheeks as he spoke.
T'Pol raised one eyebrow and answered, "I am confident in your ability to find anything that you may need. Your quarters are, after all, not very large."
"Will I see you tomorrow? For breakfast?" he asked, perhaps a little more persistent than the Trip Tucker who had tried to ask her inside less than a week earlier.
"Perhaps." she replied impassively. For a moment her lips seemed to turn upward in the semblance of a smile, but the expression faded quickly.
"I'd like that." he said, a slow grin spreading across his boyish features.
"Good night." she said almost solemnly, making up for the momentary chink in her armor, as she turned to go.
Commander Tucker could only shake his head in confusion. She looked Vulcan. She sounded Vulcan. But no Vulcan he had ever seen had smiled as she just did, or rather, almost did.
"I wonder if she likes me." thought Trip as he walked into the strange, unfamiliar quarters that he was forced to call his own. "I wonder if I like her." he muttered, shaking his head at the sheer abnormality of the situation.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------