From the body of one guilty deed a thousand ghostly fears and haunting thoughts proceed. –Wordsworth
Part 3:
T'Pol leaned against the wall as the door to her quarters closed. She tilted her head towards the ceiling trying to contain the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. It had been such a casual comment: "I might not survive this mission," but her reaction to those words had been anything but casual. It had been as if the atmosphere had been sucked from her quarters as she had struggled to breathe. It was a visceral reaction to the thought of death. So much death and pain, and likely more to come.
Guilt threatened to suffocate her at the thought of the 18 crew members who had died when the Reptilians had attacked Enterprise. While she had been in command. Unable to carry out her duties, paralysed by emotions that she had deliberately unleashed with Trellium-D. Crew with friends and family that had vanished from the Universe because of her actions. Her inaction. Friends and family who now felt grief like this, like she had felt when she thought Jonathan Archer's death was imminent and at the thought that it still might be.
She took a deep breath. It is illogical to grieve for events that have not yet taken place she reminded herself. She attempted to return to what she had been doing when Archer had come by her quarters: meditating, or more accurately, attempting to clear her mind to the point that she could begin meditating. The candles flickered in the darkened cabin as she seated herself in front of them once more, however after several minutes it became apparent her mind was still filled with distracting thoughts.
The conversation with Archer had been unsettling. She had not fully appreciated the depth of his torment over the events in the Expanse. It disturbed her greatly that she had contributed to his pain by not keeping his crew safe while he was gone. He had trusted her, the crew had trusted her, and she had betrayed that trust. Phlox was the only one who knew how badly she had betrayed them all, but she thought it unlikely that that would remain the case. She could not fathom Archer's reaction, but did not delude herself into thinking that it would be pleasant.
The new knowledge that he suffered nightmares added to the heavy weight of responsability that she felt. Undoubtedly those 18 crewmembers visited him in those nightmares. She had experienced few dreams, and she did not find them calming, but she had no idea what constituted a nightmare. However, the Captain seemed to have better control over his emotions than she did as of late, and she decided that his suggestion that she investigate other methods for containing her emotions had merit. Her current situation was unique, and therefore might require a unique approach. Having made a decision in that regard eased some of her tension, replacing it with hope that a solution to her problem might still be attainable.
The issue of Lorian, however, remained unresolved. She could not fathom a path that would bring her to bond with Trip Tucker, unless it had been logical to produce offspring for the success of the mission. As a Vulcan, her longer lifespan would have been an asset in an offspring. Her apparent choice of mate however, still puzzled her. Her 'experiment' with Trip had been pleasant, but nothing like what was described in human literature and arts. The descriptions that she had read had made it sound like it would have been...more. T'Pol wasn't entirely sure what it was that she had been expecting from the experience, only that her expectations had not been met.
The qualities that she would expect in a mate were not present in Commander Tucker. He had trouble controlling his emotions, he was reckless, selfish, even, at times. She could not understand why she would bond with someone like that. A bond mate needed to be someone that she trusted, who could calm her emotions not inflame them, someone more like...
Perhaps tonight was not the night to resolve this issue, she mused, suddenly uncomfortable with the direction her thoughts were taking. Taking a deep breath, she again tried to clear her mind. This time she was more successful, having begun the resolution of several issues that had been plaguing her. Her breathing slowed and she attained a peaceful state that she was able to maintain for half an hour, then several of the candles extinguished themselves, darkening the room and rousing her from her restful state. Satisfied that she had accomplished enough for one night, she crawled into her bunk intent on getting a few hours rest.
Unfortunately, she had yet to learn that heightened emotions and unresolved issues were rarely a recipe for peaceful slumber. Despite her relatively successful meditation, she soon began to dream...
...she was in her shower, eyes closed as the warm water pounded down on her and washed away her tension. It dawned on her that she wasn't alone, another presence filled the shower stall. Someone large...and male. She could smell his perspiration, the scent of desire wafting off of him as his hands explored her body and awakened the feelings she had sought to explore with Trellium-D. Gentle hands caressed her shoulders and trailed down her back. Desire flared in her and she turned around to face him, keeping her eyes closed. She'd had this dream before, and she knew that when she opened her eyes she would know who it was. Until she opened her eyes she could preserve the illusion that this person was unknown to her, not yet revealed and demanding to be dealt with.
She tilted her head upward as their lips met and he pulled her closer, molding her body to his. It was intoxicating, this powerful desire, it permeated every nerve ending, every pore. It was all-consuming, almost violent in it's assault on her senses, ripping away the last vestiges of control she had fought so hard to maintain. A part of her mind protested that this wasn't right, this wasn't what she wanted. She'd given into these desires before. Her experiment with Commander Tucker had been a mistake and she didn't want to continue. With all her strength she pushed him away, breaking their embrace and pinning her partner against the shower stall wall.
"T'Pol, what's wrong?" asked a surprised voice. A familiar voice, but one she couldn't, wouldn't place. It wasn't the same as the last dream. It wasn't Trip, it wasn't who she expected to hear, it was....her eyes flew open. "Jonathan!" she gasped, taking in his dripping hair and following the rivulets of water as they travelled over his shoulders, down his chest and...she quickly looked up at his face which was looking at her in that amused way he had when she was being typically Vulcan and he was enjoying it. "You seemed to be having a good time," he whispered running a finger along the tip of her ear. "Why did you push me away?" he asked lightly, trying to hide his confusion with levity and his eyes trying to mask the flicker of hurt that he couldn't quite bury.
"I ...," T'Pol stopped, unable to express the turbulent thoughts swirling through her mind. "What are you doing here?" she asked, still confused that this dream had taken a different turn than the first. "Don't you want me here?" he asked coyly, resting one hand on her shoulder and letting the other one travel lower, along with his gaze. Her breath quickened as he proved to himself, and her, that she did indeed want him there...and there...and a little to the right. "No," she whispered, knowing she didn't sound very convincing. Convincing or not, his exploration stopped.
"Why not?" he asked.
"You don't understand," she whispered, shrugging off his hands and turning away from him to collect her thoughts.
"That's generally why people ask 'Why?' T'Pol, when they don't understand something," he said, anger creeping into his voice. "Like 'Why?' you keep pushing me away, and 'Why?' you keep denying your attraction to me, and 'Why?' you keep turning away from me and 'Why?' you can't look me in the eye anymore," Archer said, sounding angrier with each question and punctuating the last one by grabbing her shoulder.
"Because!" she shouted, mirroring his anger. She whirled towards him, flinging his hand off her shoulder. She was momentarily phased by the fact that Jonathan Archer now stood before her in full uniform, albeit dripping wet under the steady stream of the shower head. Seemingly realising the absurdity himself, he reached behind her and turned off the stream of water. The movement brought him face to face with her, and much too close for her comfort level.
"Tell me, what is going on!" he said through gritted teeth.
"You wouldn't understand," she said, looking everywhere but straight at him, which only served to fuel his anger. He grabbed her chin and forced her head up until she had no choice but to look at him.
"You keep saying that," he seethed, "without ever giving me the chance to understand!" He stared at her, his hand still gripping her chin so that only her eyes could escape his gaze. "LOOK AT ME!" he yelled at her, causing her to recoil at the force of his anger all the while his grip on her jaw unyielding.
Why couldn't she break his grip? Vulcans were stronger than Humans, even Human males. His anger was palpable and she started to feel her own anger well up inside her. His demands were unreasonable, why wouldn't he stop? Couldn't he see that she was trying to spare him any more pain, any more disappointment, any more betrayal than he had already experienced in the Expanse? She found his persistence frustrating, why couldn't he just...Leave. Her. Alone! Her rage boiled up inside her and she shoved him into the wall with such force that not only did it break his grip on her chin, but the shower wall dented where he made contact with it. Impossible, she thought, confused at the breach in the laws of Physics that would allow such a thing. Unnoticed by her, he picked himself off of the shower floor to where he had slid and reached out and grabbed her chin again. "I said 'Look at me,' dammit!" he seethed, apparently no worse for wear, unlike the shower wall.
"Let. GO!" she screamed at him feeling all the irrational rage and fear and desire she'd felt on the Seleya over take her, wiping out all reason in her primal need to get away from him. She tried shoving him away, but was unable to repeat her earlier feat of sending him flying into the wall. She continued to punch and hit him trying to break free from the hold he had on her. She wasn't sure when he let go, but she suddenly realised that she was still pummeling him long after he had acceded to her demands. She stopped suddenly, feeling the fury drain away, and looked up at his face. He was calmly looking down at her, as he had presumably been doing for some time waiting for her to tire herself out.
"You can't hurt me T'Pol," he said calmly, enfolding her shivering body in his arms.
"I'm stronger than you give me credit for," he whispered.
T'Pol woke up to the darkness of her cabin, with the lingering memory of his damp uniform pressed against her skin and her older self's words of advice to her running through her mind. She lay in the darkness pondering the significance of her dream (nightmare?) until her duty shift began.
/to be continued
Part 3:
T'Pol leaned against the wall as the door to her quarters closed. She tilted her head towards the ceiling trying to contain the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. It had been such a casual comment: "I might not survive this mission," but her reaction to those words had been anything but casual. It had been as if the atmosphere had been sucked from her quarters as she had struggled to breathe. It was a visceral reaction to the thought of death. So much death and pain, and likely more to come.
Guilt threatened to suffocate her at the thought of the 18 crew members who had died when the Reptilians had attacked Enterprise. While she had been in command. Unable to carry out her duties, paralysed by emotions that she had deliberately unleashed with Trellium-D. Crew with friends and family that had vanished from the Universe because of her actions. Her inaction. Friends and family who now felt grief like this, like she had felt when she thought Jonathan Archer's death was imminent and at the thought that it still might be.
She took a deep breath. It is illogical to grieve for events that have not yet taken place she reminded herself. She attempted to return to what she had been doing when Archer had come by her quarters: meditating, or more accurately, attempting to clear her mind to the point that she could begin meditating. The candles flickered in the darkened cabin as she seated herself in front of them once more, however after several minutes it became apparent her mind was still filled with distracting thoughts.
The conversation with Archer had been unsettling. She had not fully appreciated the depth of his torment over the events in the Expanse. It disturbed her greatly that she had contributed to his pain by not keeping his crew safe while he was gone. He had trusted her, the crew had trusted her, and she had betrayed that trust. Phlox was the only one who knew how badly she had betrayed them all, but she thought it unlikely that that would remain the case. She could not fathom Archer's reaction, but did not delude herself into thinking that it would be pleasant.
The new knowledge that he suffered nightmares added to the heavy weight of responsability that she felt. Undoubtedly those 18 crewmembers visited him in those nightmares. She had experienced few dreams, and she did not find them calming, but she had no idea what constituted a nightmare. However, the Captain seemed to have better control over his emotions than she did as of late, and she decided that his suggestion that she investigate other methods for containing her emotions had merit. Her current situation was unique, and therefore might require a unique approach. Having made a decision in that regard eased some of her tension, replacing it with hope that a solution to her problem might still be attainable.
The issue of Lorian, however, remained unresolved. She could not fathom a path that would bring her to bond with Trip Tucker, unless it had been logical to produce offspring for the success of the mission. As a Vulcan, her longer lifespan would have been an asset in an offspring. Her apparent choice of mate however, still puzzled her. Her 'experiment' with Trip had been pleasant, but nothing like what was described in human literature and arts. The descriptions that she had read had made it sound like it would have been...more. T'Pol wasn't entirely sure what it was that she had been expecting from the experience, only that her expectations had not been met.
The qualities that she would expect in a mate were not present in Commander Tucker. He had trouble controlling his emotions, he was reckless, selfish, even, at times. She could not understand why she would bond with someone like that. A bond mate needed to be someone that she trusted, who could calm her emotions not inflame them, someone more like...
Perhaps tonight was not the night to resolve this issue, she mused, suddenly uncomfortable with the direction her thoughts were taking. Taking a deep breath, she again tried to clear her mind. This time she was more successful, having begun the resolution of several issues that had been plaguing her. Her breathing slowed and she attained a peaceful state that she was able to maintain for half an hour, then several of the candles extinguished themselves, darkening the room and rousing her from her restful state. Satisfied that she had accomplished enough for one night, she crawled into her bunk intent on getting a few hours rest.
Unfortunately, she had yet to learn that heightened emotions and unresolved issues were rarely a recipe for peaceful slumber. Despite her relatively successful meditation, she soon began to dream...
...she was in her shower, eyes closed as the warm water pounded down on her and washed away her tension. It dawned on her that she wasn't alone, another presence filled the shower stall. Someone large...and male. She could smell his perspiration, the scent of desire wafting off of him as his hands explored her body and awakened the feelings she had sought to explore with Trellium-D. Gentle hands caressed her shoulders and trailed down her back. Desire flared in her and she turned around to face him, keeping her eyes closed. She'd had this dream before, and she knew that when she opened her eyes she would know who it was. Until she opened her eyes she could preserve the illusion that this person was unknown to her, not yet revealed and demanding to be dealt with.
She tilted her head upward as their lips met and he pulled her closer, molding her body to his. It was intoxicating, this powerful desire, it permeated every nerve ending, every pore. It was all-consuming, almost violent in it's assault on her senses, ripping away the last vestiges of control she had fought so hard to maintain. A part of her mind protested that this wasn't right, this wasn't what she wanted. She'd given into these desires before. Her experiment with Commander Tucker had been a mistake and she didn't want to continue. With all her strength she pushed him away, breaking their embrace and pinning her partner against the shower stall wall.
"T'Pol, what's wrong?" asked a surprised voice. A familiar voice, but one she couldn't, wouldn't place. It wasn't the same as the last dream. It wasn't Trip, it wasn't who she expected to hear, it was....her eyes flew open. "Jonathan!" she gasped, taking in his dripping hair and following the rivulets of water as they travelled over his shoulders, down his chest and...she quickly looked up at his face which was looking at her in that amused way he had when she was being typically Vulcan and he was enjoying it. "You seemed to be having a good time," he whispered running a finger along the tip of her ear. "Why did you push me away?" he asked lightly, trying to hide his confusion with levity and his eyes trying to mask the flicker of hurt that he couldn't quite bury.
"I ...," T'Pol stopped, unable to express the turbulent thoughts swirling through her mind. "What are you doing here?" she asked, still confused that this dream had taken a different turn than the first. "Don't you want me here?" he asked coyly, resting one hand on her shoulder and letting the other one travel lower, along with his gaze. Her breath quickened as he proved to himself, and her, that she did indeed want him there...and there...and a little to the right. "No," she whispered, knowing she didn't sound very convincing. Convincing or not, his exploration stopped.
"Why not?" he asked.
"You don't understand," she whispered, shrugging off his hands and turning away from him to collect her thoughts.
"That's generally why people ask 'Why?' T'Pol, when they don't understand something," he said, anger creeping into his voice. "Like 'Why?' you keep pushing me away, and 'Why?' you keep denying your attraction to me, and 'Why?' you keep turning away from me and 'Why?' you can't look me in the eye anymore," Archer said, sounding angrier with each question and punctuating the last one by grabbing her shoulder.
"Because!" she shouted, mirroring his anger. She whirled towards him, flinging his hand off her shoulder. She was momentarily phased by the fact that Jonathan Archer now stood before her in full uniform, albeit dripping wet under the steady stream of the shower head. Seemingly realising the absurdity himself, he reached behind her and turned off the stream of water. The movement brought him face to face with her, and much too close for her comfort level.
"Tell me, what is going on!" he said through gritted teeth.
"You wouldn't understand," she said, looking everywhere but straight at him, which only served to fuel his anger. He grabbed her chin and forced her head up until she had no choice but to look at him.
"You keep saying that," he seethed, "without ever giving me the chance to understand!" He stared at her, his hand still gripping her chin so that only her eyes could escape his gaze. "LOOK AT ME!" he yelled at her, causing her to recoil at the force of his anger all the while his grip on her jaw unyielding.
Why couldn't she break his grip? Vulcans were stronger than Humans, even Human males. His anger was palpable and she started to feel her own anger well up inside her. His demands were unreasonable, why wouldn't he stop? Couldn't he see that she was trying to spare him any more pain, any more disappointment, any more betrayal than he had already experienced in the Expanse? She found his persistence frustrating, why couldn't he just...Leave. Her. Alone! Her rage boiled up inside her and she shoved him into the wall with such force that not only did it break his grip on her chin, but the shower wall dented where he made contact with it. Impossible, she thought, confused at the breach in the laws of Physics that would allow such a thing. Unnoticed by her, he picked himself off of the shower floor to where he had slid and reached out and grabbed her chin again. "I said 'Look at me,' dammit!" he seethed, apparently no worse for wear, unlike the shower wall.
"Let. GO!" she screamed at him feeling all the irrational rage and fear and desire she'd felt on the Seleya over take her, wiping out all reason in her primal need to get away from him. She tried shoving him away, but was unable to repeat her earlier feat of sending him flying into the wall. She continued to punch and hit him trying to break free from the hold he had on her. She wasn't sure when he let go, but she suddenly realised that she was still pummeling him long after he had acceded to her demands. She stopped suddenly, feeling the fury drain away, and looked up at his face. He was calmly looking down at her, as he had presumably been doing for some time waiting for her to tire herself out.
"You can't hurt me T'Pol," he said calmly, enfolding her shivering body in his arms.
"I'm stronger than you give me credit for," he whispered.
T'Pol woke up to the darkness of her cabin, with the lingering memory of his damp uniform pressed against her skin and her older self's words of advice to her running through her mind. She lay in the darkness pondering the significance of her dream (nightmare?) until her duty shift began.
/to be continued