By Aleda Gildeth
Disclaimer: Only in my dreams.
Rating: PG
Genre: Angst
Spoilers: None
Summary: A very short T/T'P vignette from Archer's POV. Angst feast.
Author's Note: I wrote this late one night while I was brainstorming. It just ran out of my pencil, so I hope it makes sense. I was planning to make this a part of a larger story, but I doubt I'll have time. So enjoy! And please R&R of course. J P.S. I should have the next segment of the reversed Similitude up in a couple days. So stop harassing me!!! ; )
Last Moment
I stare at them on the floor. He clutches at her, holding her to him, fear and tears threatening to spill, the front of his shirt soaked in her blood. She clings to him, trying to stay with him; she's forgotten the rest of us, and she fights, whispering broken words he won't hear.
This is a last moment, a Last Moment. A moment I'm not in.
This isn't the Trip I know. This isn't the constant, fearless, ever-ready-for-action man that I brought on board. This isn't the engineer who bickered with our science officer, even good naturedly, at every opportunity, who joked about Vulcans and drank with me Saturday nights.
He's clinging to her as though for his own life.
This isn't the T'Pol I know. This isn't the detached, reserved woman I've relied on. This isn't the logical, steady, unreadable Vulcan that came onto my bridge by chance and then refused to leave.
Her hand lies on his chest, her fingers clutch his uniform, but its not pain. She can't possibly be feeling anything now.
His hands are covered in her blood. He can't stop it, but he begs hopelessly for her to hold on. Her chest rises and falls in labored breaths as she tells him something no one else can hear, cut short as she chokes on the blood slowly filling her lungs.
He looks up at me, panic flooding his face, and he yells at me shrilly. "What are you doing?!! Call the Enterprise! Call Enterprise, God dammit!!!"
In my shocked stupor I manage to pull out my communicator, but my own voice sounds far away. "Archer to Enterprise. Get Phlox down here now. T'Pol's wounded… She doesn't have much time."
He's turned back to her, sweeping blood-matted hair from her face, her hand on the back of his neck, her eyes only on him.
I've disappeared again.
She utters his name. The name no one calls him. "Charles…" Its all she can manage.
"No, no, darlin'. You gotta hold on. Stay with me. Please, hold on…"
There is no Commander or Sub-Commander here. No engineer, no science officer. No Human or Vulcan.
Just T'Pol and… Charles.
She's slipping through his fingers. I should be panicking too. I should be trying to help, help her breathe, staunch the flow, however pointless it would be. But all I feel is lost.
I don't know these people. I don't know who they are.