A Woman in His Life
Chapter four - No Satisfaction
By Penmom
Author's Notes - (1) Assume that we are now passed the whole disjointed zombie thing - not the best episode this season, I will pick up after this happened. Since this will take us up to the present cannon - this will begin to be bit AU. (2) I have been thrilled by the feedback about this piece and it has encouraged me to continue on. A special thanks to Nemo - great quote - I can't seen My Fair Lady in years! Also thanks to Eratta, plumtuckered, Nala, the Adminal, Kittytryspin Alison M. Dobell, Tripgrl13, Nikitee and Snow Queen. I am humbled that you have taken the time to respond. (3) Beta'ed!
Bam. Bam. He has been hitting this punching bag for the past hour to no satisfaction. He needs to hurt something, someone. Too bad that little spy isn't still on the ship. Woaw now, Trip, you aren't thinkin' about beatin' a woman to a bloody pulp. Are you?
The answer comes back a little less than settling - well, yes. It doesn't matter a hill of beans what the damn buggers look like - fat, thin, blue, purple, male or female - he will kill them. He will not hesitate. He will do whatever necessary to stop this threat. These damned Xindi will feel it where it hurts. And they will pay. Pay for Lizzie and a million like her. They will pay for T'Pol and for what this infernal corner of space has done to her.
T'Pol. At the though of her, lying in sickbay for the second time in so many weeks, so small, so ravaged by these damn anomalies. Hell, she was half out of her mind when he last saw her. Phlox thought it would be days before she was well enough to leave sickbay.
This thought brings about another selfish, boorish tangent to his thinking. It will be days before he will have a chance to be alone with her. And even then will she even feel like ---- picking up where they left off. The idea that he would be denied access to her, to her company, her touch - it is intolerable.
A part of his brain registers that this is nuts. Sure, he doesn't want T'Pol to be hurt but to feel this way because she's not up to giving him a damn back rub - it's ludicrous. Still, anger and frustration pump through him at an astonishing rate as he continues to attack the object in front of him.
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Disjointed thoughts continue to assault her subconscious. Memories of childhood, lectures on emotional control, the summer of her thirteenth year when she endured the ancient rituals of emotional maturity, the meld last year, the recent attack - it was as if she surfed from emotionally laden event to emotionally laden event without cease. Each memory seems to taunt her.
If she were awake and alert, she would see Dr. Phlox monitoring her vitals, watching her stress signs climb again and again but she is not awake. She is in an emotional maze. She recalls Charles Tucker telling her about something called a "Fun House" from his childhood where one would walk through a hall of mirrors that distorted one's image. Surely this is where she is.
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Dr. Phlox is less than pleased by her latest vitals. While he hates to keep her under he sees no choice at the moment not until she calms. He begins to prepare an additional sedative for the night. He is interrupted by the whirling sound of the main entry doors opening.
"Phlox?" a distinctive male voice inquires.
"In here, Commander Tucker." He calls out as he comes from the lab. "What can I do for you? A hypospray perhaps? I anticipated that the past few days' events may have escalated your sleeplessness."
Looking a bit sheepish but determined to continue, he forges ahead. "Ahh actually no, Doc. I was wonderin' --- I was wonderin' if I could see T'Pol. That's all."
Catching a look on the Doc's face that he can't quite read, he quickly begins to back off, "I mean, I was just wonderin' how she was. She's had one hell of a time ---" His voice trails off as he runs out of explanations - for Phlox, for himself.
Just then Phlox gets one of those 'know all' looks on his face, as he responds, "As have you, Commander."
Never much for introspection, Trip shrugs off the comment and begins to turn with the intention of retreating. He doesn't get all the way around before the Doc speaks again. "On the contrary, do come in. Do come see her. Speak to her."
"She's awake?" he asks, his voice displaying his attachment.
"Ahh no, but do speak to her. She very well may be able to hear you. There are many studies supporting the positive effect of familiar voices on those in comatose states. You may do her some good."
As Charles Tucker passes by him, wasting no pleasantries before seeing T'Pol, Phlox whispers to himself, "it may do you some good as well."
Chapter four - No Satisfaction
By Penmom
Author's Notes - (1) Assume that we are now passed the whole disjointed zombie thing - not the best episode this season, I will pick up after this happened. Since this will take us up to the present cannon - this will begin to be bit AU. (2) I have been thrilled by the feedback about this piece and it has encouraged me to continue on. A special thanks to Nemo - great quote - I can't seen My Fair Lady in years! Also thanks to Eratta, plumtuckered, Nala, the Adminal, Kittytryspin Alison M. Dobell, Tripgrl13, Nikitee and Snow Queen. I am humbled that you have taken the time to respond. (3) Beta'ed!
Bam. Bam. He has been hitting this punching bag for the past hour to no satisfaction. He needs to hurt something, someone. Too bad that little spy isn't still on the ship. Woaw now, Trip, you aren't thinkin' about beatin' a woman to a bloody pulp. Are you?
The answer comes back a little less than settling - well, yes. It doesn't matter a hill of beans what the damn buggers look like - fat, thin, blue, purple, male or female - he will kill them. He will not hesitate. He will do whatever necessary to stop this threat. These damned Xindi will feel it where it hurts. And they will pay. Pay for Lizzie and a million like her. They will pay for T'Pol and for what this infernal corner of space has done to her.
T'Pol. At the though of her, lying in sickbay for the second time in so many weeks, so small, so ravaged by these damn anomalies. Hell, she was half out of her mind when he last saw her. Phlox thought it would be days before she was well enough to leave sickbay.
This thought brings about another selfish, boorish tangent to his thinking. It will be days before he will have a chance to be alone with her. And even then will she even feel like ---- picking up where they left off. The idea that he would be denied access to her, to her company, her touch - it is intolerable.
A part of his brain registers that this is nuts. Sure, he doesn't want T'Pol to be hurt but to feel this way because she's not up to giving him a damn back rub - it's ludicrous. Still, anger and frustration pump through him at an astonishing rate as he continues to attack the object in front of him.
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
Disjointed thoughts continue to assault her subconscious. Memories of childhood, lectures on emotional control, the summer of her thirteenth year when she endured the ancient rituals of emotional maturity, the meld last year, the recent attack - it was as if she surfed from emotionally laden event to emotionally laden event without cease. Each memory seems to taunt her.
If she were awake and alert, she would see Dr. Phlox monitoring her vitals, watching her stress signs climb again and again but she is not awake. She is in an emotional maze. She recalls Charles Tucker telling her about something called a "Fun House" from his childhood where one would walk through a hall of mirrors that distorted one's image. Surely this is where she is.
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
Dr. Phlox is less than pleased by her latest vitals. While he hates to keep her under he sees no choice at the moment not until she calms. He begins to prepare an additional sedative for the night. He is interrupted by the whirling sound of the main entry doors opening.
"Phlox?" a distinctive male voice inquires.
"In here, Commander Tucker." He calls out as he comes from the lab. "What can I do for you? A hypospray perhaps? I anticipated that the past few days' events may have escalated your sleeplessness."
Looking a bit sheepish but determined to continue, he forges ahead. "Ahh actually no, Doc. I was wonderin' --- I was wonderin' if I could see T'Pol. That's all."
Catching a look on the Doc's face that he can't quite read, he quickly begins to back off, "I mean, I was just wonderin' how she was. She's had one hell of a time ---" His voice trails off as he runs out of explanations - for Phlox, for himself.
Just then Phlox gets one of those 'know all' looks on his face, as he responds, "As have you, Commander."
Never much for introspection, Trip shrugs off the comment and begins to turn with the intention of retreating. He doesn't get all the way around before the Doc speaks again. "On the contrary, do come in. Do come see her. Speak to her."
"She's awake?" he asks, his voice displaying his attachment.
"Ahh no, but do speak to her. She very well may be able to hear you. There are many studies supporting the positive effect of familiar voices on those in comatose states. You may do her some good."
As Charles Tucker passes by him, wasting no pleasantries before seeing T'Pol, Phlox whispers to himself, "it may do you some good as well."
