Title: Bad News
Author: Kendra
Pairing: Trip/ T'Pol
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek and I don't make any money from this.
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Bad News
Trip walked the halls of the Enterprise on his way towards sick bay, concentrating his mind solely on his outward appearance; it was all he could do not to dwell on what he was needed in sick bay for. He willed his hands to stop fidgeting and kept them in a gentle swing by his sides. He schooled his features into a careless visage, walking through the corridors nodding and smiling to passers by repeating his new mantra. 'You're the same old Trip; happy go lucky Trip, easy going Trip, life of the Party Trip, Trip; the guy that's always out for a laugh!'
When he reached sick bay he hesitated only a moment before entering, though he was stopped dead in his tracks by the familiar scene in front of him. Déjà vu suddenly gripped him as he saw the Captain waiting by one of the examination beds and Doctor Phlox kitted out in his gloves and grey operation suit, much as he had done in Sim's last moments. Irrational panic rose in Tucker immediately, and he was about to make a move in retreat when he spied T'Pol on the opposite side of sick bay.
When their eyes locked Trip watched her as her dispassionate countenance turned into a frown, she was studying him intently, then a flitter of delicate expressions danced across her beautiful features so fast Tucker couldn't identify them. But he could feel himself calmed immensely by her presence.
"Trip. . ." Tucker heard his Captain say. "The Doctor has some... news. I think you should sit down."
Trip wrenched his eyes from T'Pol to look at his friend.
"I'd prefer ta stand if that's ok with you, Cap'n"
Trip spoke, an underlining quiver in his voice, he hoped only he could hear. His captain nodded soberly and Tucker moved further into the room and looked to Doctor Phlox.
"What's goin' on Doc?"
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When T'Pol arrived at sickbay the last thing she had expected to hear was this. She stepped away from her senior officer and Doctor, needing space and distance from the Captain's broadcasting emotions. Hers were enough to deal with at the moment and she found herself working hard to remain in control.
Blocking out the Captain's angry out bursts T'Pol could identify hundreds of emotions within her self but was too over come to reproach her self for them. As Surak would have said 'the cause is sufficient'.
Anger roared up inside her suddenly, after all that had happened, it would have been for nothing. Images of Sim and the past two months replayed in her mind.
Since the accident in engineering and Charles's recovery she had done every thing in her power to see that he was never put into a life threatening situation again or if need be, she would be there to oversee it. It had of course been a huge undertaking on a mission like this, however from away missions to modifications she had been there with one eye always trained on her. . . on Commander Tucker.
An over whelming and illogical sense of failure permeated her walls and it only incensed her anger more. She was angry at herself for believing she could protect him from every thing, angry at the Doctor for being so careless, angry at the Captain for being a fool, and angry at Charles for being so cavalier with his life.
It was then that the sick bay doors opened to reveal the object of conversation and meditation.
PANIC! RUN!
T'Pol had to steady herself on the nearby shelf at the emotion that flooded her consciousness and so it had taken a good few seconds to block categories and identify where it had come from.
Charles! T'Pol studied him as he stood just inside the door to sick bay, his features pale, his posture unyielding.
His attention had then focused on her, she could not understand it, he had not yet been told of the grave situation he was once again in, why he should react so vehemently confused her, though that didn't matter now, what was of importance was how to help him, even though what she was about to do was a severe taboo amongst her people and taught from a very young age to suppress the ability, she called on it now, focusing her thoughts on him intently she began to send comforting emotions, warmth and calm.
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Trip watched as Phlox moved towards a screen high on the sick bay wall.
"That is a scan of your brain taken during your physical two days ago, Commander. . . "
Phlox indicated one side of the screen. Tucker studied the picture, not sure what he was meant to learn from it but knowing it wasn't good.
"And this is a scan taken after your operation with Sim" Phlox indicated the other side.
"Look Doc, I'm not sure what I'm s'posed to see in those pictures, so if ya've got bad news why don't cha just spit it out!"
Tucker was aware he sounded aggressive but he didn't care anymore.
"The amount of cell degradation is equivocal to a 75 year old man."
Phlox decided that the best course of action would be to do as the commander had asked and 'spit it out', ignoring the Commanders his wide- eyed expression he continued.
"I had assumed that your normal brain cells would help stabilise and slow the rapid aging chemistry of Sim's cells. . . and to an extent they had, but it wasn't as successful as planed."
Phlox was quite then, allowing Tucker time to assimilate the information. Archer placed a hand on his friends shoulder and squeezed, Trip looked to his friend and then moved away, almost jerking from under his grip. Tucker walked to lean his fore-head and hands against a wall near T'Pol. She moved closer to him but did not make a move for contact.
"So, how long have I got Doc?"
Tuckers voice sounded resigned, it alarmed the others in the room.
"Commander, there are possibilities we have not."
T'Pol was interrupted, Commander Tucker turned to her, anger bolstering his voice.
"T'Pol, its gonna take us at least 3 months ta get out of the Expanse at maximum warp and God knows how long to find the Valandrin Circle to get that serum, and by that time I'll either be dead or the mission will've failed, so what other possibilities are you referrin' to T'Pol?"
He waited for her response, she was not forth coming.
"So Doc, I ask again. . . How long have I got?"
"Calculating using ratio. . . 1. . . maybe 2 months, depending on your natural longevity."
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AN.: I know my biology is a little far fetched but I've heard worst in Trek Episodes before!
Thanks for the reviews!
Also I know Trip's accent is a little stronger, I did that to show his stress levels.
Author: Kendra
Pairing: Trip/ T'Pol
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek and I don't make any money from this.
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Bad News
Trip walked the halls of the Enterprise on his way towards sick bay, concentrating his mind solely on his outward appearance; it was all he could do not to dwell on what he was needed in sick bay for. He willed his hands to stop fidgeting and kept them in a gentle swing by his sides. He schooled his features into a careless visage, walking through the corridors nodding and smiling to passers by repeating his new mantra. 'You're the same old Trip; happy go lucky Trip, easy going Trip, life of the Party Trip, Trip; the guy that's always out for a laugh!'
When he reached sick bay he hesitated only a moment before entering, though he was stopped dead in his tracks by the familiar scene in front of him. Déjà vu suddenly gripped him as he saw the Captain waiting by one of the examination beds and Doctor Phlox kitted out in his gloves and grey operation suit, much as he had done in Sim's last moments. Irrational panic rose in Tucker immediately, and he was about to make a move in retreat when he spied T'Pol on the opposite side of sick bay.
When their eyes locked Trip watched her as her dispassionate countenance turned into a frown, she was studying him intently, then a flitter of delicate expressions danced across her beautiful features so fast Tucker couldn't identify them. But he could feel himself calmed immensely by her presence.
"Trip. . ." Tucker heard his Captain say. "The Doctor has some... news. I think you should sit down."
Trip wrenched his eyes from T'Pol to look at his friend.
"I'd prefer ta stand if that's ok with you, Cap'n"
Trip spoke, an underlining quiver in his voice, he hoped only he could hear. His captain nodded soberly and Tucker moved further into the room and looked to Doctor Phlox.
"What's goin' on Doc?"
------------------------------
When T'Pol arrived at sickbay the last thing she had expected to hear was this. She stepped away from her senior officer and Doctor, needing space and distance from the Captain's broadcasting emotions. Hers were enough to deal with at the moment and she found herself working hard to remain in control.
Blocking out the Captain's angry out bursts T'Pol could identify hundreds of emotions within her self but was too over come to reproach her self for them. As Surak would have said 'the cause is sufficient'.
Anger roared up inside her suddenly, after all that had happened, it would have been for nothing. Images of Sim and the past two months replayed in her mind.
Since the accident in engineering and Charles's recovery she had done every thing in her power to see that he was never put into a life threatening situation again or if need be, she would be there to oversee it. It had of course been a huge undertaking on a mission like this, however from away missions to modifications she had been there with one eye always trained on her. . . on Commander Tucker.
An over whelming and illogical sense of failure permeated her walls and it only incensed her anger more. She was angry at herself for believing she could protect him from every thing, angry at the Doctor for being so careless, angry at the Captain for being a fool, and angry at Charles for being so cavalier with his life.
It was then that the sick bay doors opened to reveal the object of conversation and meditation.
PANIC! RUN!
T'Pol had to steady herself on the nearby shelf at the emotion that flooded her consciousness and so it had taken a good few seconds to block categories and identify where it had come from.
Charles! T'Pol studied him as he stood just inside the door to sick bay, his features pale, his posture unyielding.
His attention had then focused on her, she could not understand it, he had not yet been told of the grave situation he was once again in, why he should react so vehemently confused her, though that didn't matter now, what was of importance was how to help him, even though what she was about to do was a severe taboo amongst her people and taught from a very young age to suppress the ability, she called on it now, focusing her thoughts on him intently she began to send comforting emotions, warmth and calm.
---------------------
Trip watched as Phlox moved towards a screen high on the sick bay wall.
"That is a scan of your brain taken during your physical two days ago, Commander. . . "
Phlox indicated one side of the screen. Tucker studied the picture, not sure what he was meant to learn from it but knowing it wasn't good.
"And this is a scan taken after your operation with Sim" Phlox indicated the other side.
"Look Doc, I'm not sure what I'm s'posed to see in those pictures, so if ya've got bad news why don't cha just spit it out!"
Tucker was aware he sounded aggressive but he didn't care anymore.
"The amount of cell degradation is equivocal to a 75 year old man."
Phlox decided that the best course of action would be to do as the commander had asked and 'spit it out', ignoring the Commanders his wide- eyed expression he continued.
"I had assumed that your normal brain cells would help stabilise and slow the rapid aging chemistry of Sim's cells. . . and to an extent they had, but it wasn't as successful as planed."
Phlox was quite then, allowing Tucker time to assimilate the information. Archer placed a hand on his friends shoulder and squeezed, Trip looked to his friend and then moved away, almost jerking from under his grip. Tucker walked to lean his fore-head and hands against a wall near T'Pol. She moved closer to him but did not make a move for contact.
"So, how long have I got Doc?"
Tuckers voice sounded resigned, it alarmed the others in the room.
"Commander, there are possibilities we have not."
T'Pol was interrupted, Commander Tucker turned to her, anger bolstering his voice.
"T'Pol, its gonna take us at least 3 months ta get out of the Expanse at maximum warp and God knows how long to find the Valandrin Circle to get that serum, and by that time I'll either be dead or the mission will've failed, so what other possibilities are you referrin' to T'Pol?"
He waited for her response, she was not forth coming.
"So Doc, I ask again. . . How long have I got?"
"Calculating using ratio. . . 1. . . maybe 2 months, depending on your natural longevity."
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AN.: I know my biology is a little far fetched but I've heard worst in Trek Episodes before!
Thanks for the reviews!
Also I know Trip's accent is a little stronger, I did that to show his stress levels.