In Its Time and Place
Chapter 2

The next morning, the sensations took her breath away as she awoke. She lay still for several moments, slowly bringing her body, her emotions, back under her control. The burn pulsing along her nerves and the tremors that shook her hands were distinctly unpleasant, while the strength of the impulses was unexpected. She had learned the typical cycle of symptoms during her childhood education, and knew that it should not advance so quickly. This was a failure of her control, more than a victory of her body. For now, at least, this should be something that she could withstand.

For a brief moment, she considered contacting Dr. Phlox to see if he had anything that would help bring her body back under her control, but dismissed the idea. If he did not know about it, he would have many questions and want to run tests. If he did know of it, he would rightly be concerned and perhaps bring her situation to the attention of the captain. T'Pol did not want her personal problems affecting the behavior or mission of the crew--once Vulcan received her message, the nearest ship would be dispatched to bring her aboard. Although the idea of dealing with it on a foreign Vulcan ship, without the presence of anybody familiar, did not please her, it would be best.

The sensations slowly faded away as they had the previous morning, but this time their memory lived in her muscles and along her nerves. She hurt, she felt tired and aggravated. Not exactly in the best of form.

She lit the candles sitting in alcoves around one area of the room, and settled into a meditative posture. Hunger gnawed along the edges of her stomach, and she welcomed the physical discomfort. It helped her focus, helped her center herself. Then she focused upon that feeling of hunger, and it too passed away. With a little more effort than normally required, she took herself to her place of calm, the center of her being, the place where logic reigned and emotions had no substance or meaning.

T'Pol arose, firmly in control of herself once again, and glanced at the clock. Her need to meditate had made her morning preparations take more time than usual, so she decided to head directly to the bridge instead of stopping in the mess hall for breakfast. Although she typically indulged herself by showing up for all meals when aboard Enterprise, she could do fairly well on far less nutrition. Fasting could help control the body and cleanse the mind. And although she felt relatively balanced at the moment, she suspected it would not last long. Not with biological impulses working in conjunction with the disturbances of everyday life.

By midday on the ship's schedule, T'Pol had realized that her decision had not been the best. Under normal circumstances, a fast left her feeling restfully empty and centered. Today, she felt only weary and hungry. Her attempts to stay in control were draining her of energy, and skipping her breakfast had already exhausted her reserves. She desperately needed lunch, and was too tired to suppress that longing. She also feared that she was becoming tired enough that others might notice her distraction.

When Captain Archer looked towards her, she saw a brief expression flicker across it, which only reinforced her concerns. Her ability to read his emotional state from his expressions had grown during her time serving on Enterprise, and that expression definitely conveyed some type of worry or concern. "Sub-commander, I'm heading down to the mess hall for lunch. Would you like to join me, or remain on the bridge?"

Sometimes she joined him, sometimes she did not. Today, a perverse desire to reject his offer--and the concern buried beneath it--hovered in her mind, but she banished it. She needed to eat. "I will accompany you, Captain."

In the lift, she kept her eyes focused on the shut doors, her hands clasped behind her back, her body in a formal pose. She could feel his stare upon her, but when she glanced to look at him, he had echoed her posture.

"T'Pol, are you all right? You've not been yourself today."

She could not call him oblique. "Captain, I am fine," she said, but her voice wavered unexpectedly.

He did not respond, but when she took a second glance out of the corner of her eyes, she saw him watching her again, his face a mixture of expression.

They entered the mess hall together, and walked to the captain's mess. The servers whisked dishes out in front of them, since neither had ordered anything special in advance. Although hunger gnawed at her stomach, the steamed vegetables and sliced fruit they set in front of her barely appealed. And the meaty odor of whatever dish Archer had been given was making her nauseous.

She tightened her lips and felt her face go pale as she struggled to control her body's impulses. Archer responded quickly. As soon as the door had slid shut behind the servers he said "T'Pol, something is definitely not right here. And I'm ordering you to tell me what is wrong."

"The smell of your lunch is unpleasant, and I am not sure I can eat what they brought me." She could follow his orders in the most strictly defined way possible.

"What do you think you can eat?"

"Perhaps a broth of some form ..."

He took their two plates and carried them back into the kitchen. By the time he returned, the ventilation system had already carried away the odor of his lunch, and her stomach had settled. "Captain, I did not mean for you to give up your lunch ... " she began.

"I'm perfectly capable of eating a meal whose odor you will find less unpleasant." The door slid open again, and a server came out with two bowls and a plate of sliced bread on a tray. She quickly placed one in front of each of them and withdrew. "Anyway, having a lighter lunch once in a while isn't going to hurt me."

She had received a clear vegetable broth. His smelled similar, but as he began to eat it, she noticed that both vegetables and some form of grain were included. They both ate in silence for a couple of minutes, then he laid down his spoon and regarded her directly. "So, are you going to tell me why you had such a violent reaction to the odor of the food, or am I going to have to pry it out of you one order at a time?"

The broth had begun to steady her emotions and her stomach. She felt calmer than she had for several hours, and strong enough to counter the captain at his verbal games. "Would you be willing to do that?"

"I don't know. Are you going to force me to it?"

"Not if you will accept that I am aware of my condition, and that I am doing what I can to correct it."

He regarded her steadily. "Have you seen the doctor?"

"There is nothing he can do to help. This should not be in his medical database."

"What have you done, then?"

"I have contacted Vulcan, and requested that they contact a ship in the area that can meet with us and take me aboard. It would only be for a couple of days--if the Enterprise needs to continue her mission, I can always catch up later."

"We can wait."

She bowed her head in thanks, and Archer turned his attention back to his lunch. Although his curiosity was a palpable sensation that even she could sense, the few words they exchanged during the rest of the meal were general and related only to the operation of the ship and crew. The food and his calm acceptance of her non-explanation steadied her further, until she felt that she could return to the bridge and finish her shift with little difficulty.

She stood, and said "I am returning to the bridge, Captain."

"Go ahead without me--I promised Trip that I'd stop in engineering and take a look at a couple of things."

But as she turned towards the door, he stood and hurried over, putting a hand on her arm to halt her. Her reaction to that simple touch almost destroyed all the control that the past hour had restored. For an instant, she was only aware of his touch and his scent; the scent which filled her nose with a suddenness she did not expect, and a familiarity that brought both a type of comfort and the deep pull of an attraction she could not allow herself to acknowledge.

She breathed through her mouth and turned to face him, struggling against impulses she didn't fully understand and emotions she refused to acknowledge. He seemed oblivious to her sudden loss of internal stability, even as his eyes searched her face in worry. She met his eyes calmly, using every trick she had ever been taught to keep her body from revealing what her mind struggled with.

"There is nothing more you can tell me?"

"There are certain matters that Vulcans cannot discuss with outsiders."

"You have violated those types of prohibitions in the past."

"With this, I cannot. Not now."

"Even if I tell you that this brings to mind every bizarre rumor about Vulcans that are whispered between school kids on earth?"

"Some of those rumors may contain more fact than fiction."

"That does not make me feel any happier."

"I apologize."

He released her, and sighed. She drew a step back, reestablishing her personal space, and returning to herself as she did so. "Please tell me immediately when the Vulcans contact you. The sooner we can change course and find your Vulcan ship, the better."

She could hear his hurt, not that he was trying to hide it from her. "I will."

She exited, and he remained behind.