Title: Personal Logs
Author: Rogue28
Ships: Trip/T'Pol
Disclaimer: I'm just playing in the sandbox.  If I was making any money off of this, I'd be writing like crazy.
Archive: Permission granted to the Warp 5 project and to the House of Tucker.  Otherwise, ask first.
Summary:  Post-eps to get through the summer hiatus, in the form of personal logs from both Trip and T'Pol's perspectives, starting with "Similitude."
A/N:  I've only seen Enterprise from Similitude on, due to a grievous lack of UPN in my hometown, so please forgive any terminology errors.  Also, feedback is fun.

Personal Log, T'Pol of Vulcan, November 15, 2153, Earth date

The past few days have been most difficult for me.  My mind has been occupied with two issues that have made it increasingly strenuous to rid my mind of distractions during my meditation.  One, the strange substance that attached itself to Enterprise's hull.  Two, the situation concerning Commander Tucker.

The commander and I have become—well acquainted during our neuropressure sessions.  He was sleeping better, as was evidenced by his increased efficiency on duty, and he seemed much more relaxed than he had previously.  While I doubt that he has begun to truly deal with the grief, which I understand humans can repress in a manner equal to that of Vulcans, he has pulled himself together in a fashion which will allow him to function until we can complete our mission in the Expanse.

I do not understand how humans do this.  For Vulcans, in repressing our emotions require that we do recognize them before repressing them.  Yet humans can repress an emotion without ever realizing that it was affecting them, although others around them can recognize it immediately.  Grief is a natural process, and it is natural to regret the loss of a family member or colleague. 

However, none of Surak's teachings ever dealt with resurrection of the dead, so to speak.  I have found that dealing with the death of Sim and the return of Commander Tucker is quite harder than I believed it would be.  While we were concerned for Commander Tucker's welfare, many members of the crew became attached to Sim. 

Vulcans pride themselves on their honesty, so I will endeavour to be as honest as possible.  I formed an—emotional—attachment to Sim.  While I had been working with Sim for several days, I had turned down his advances, which I judged to be those of a teenage boy.

I was, however, incorrect in that assumption.  Sim came to my quarters and confessed his feelings for me.  Or, perhaps, Commander Tucker's feelings for me.  It was unsettling, and I was unsure of how to react to this.

An impulse struck me, unlike the scientific impulses I frequently allow myself to give into.  Those impulses are logical decisions, rationalized and arrived at in a logical manner.  This impulse was an emotional one, and I kissed Sim.

It was an experience unlike any I have previously encountered.  I have found this event, and Sim's funeral reluctant to leave my mind.

Commander Tucker asked me to relate my experiences with Sim.  While this would undoubtedly accelerate his own healing process dealing with the emotional havoc this event has played with his emotions, I declined.  It was not out of any wish to cause Commander Tucker harm, or to delay his healing, but because I find myself without words to describe my interaction with Sim.

Perhaps, even if I had the words, I would not be able to discuss this with Commander Tucker.  At least not now. 

There are, of course, the moral implications of Sim's creation to be dealt with.  Captain Archer seemed adamant about Sim's creation.  While such an action was morally reprehensible by both human and Vulcan standards, I find that I cannot justify an action otherwise.  To let Commander Tucker die through our inaction would have been nearly as morally objectionable.  And faced with the possibility that Commander Tucker's demise could—would—affect our ability to carry out our mission and destroy the Xindi weapon, it was the logical choice on Captain Archer's part.  Surak plainly states that the good of the many outweigh the good of the few, or in this case, the one.

I had a conversation with Dr. Phlox this afternoon.  Commander Tucker had just left the infirmary, and I inquired as to the doctor's state of being.  He smiled, and said, "T'Pol, there goes a man who would give up everything to save his planet.  And in a way, he already has."

That day may come when our ship and crew must make the ultimate sacrifice to save Earth from the Xindi.  Yet I hope that it never does.

Because hope is not just a human emotion.