More to Tell, Ch. 8
Sequel to: Confessions
By: Angel
Summary: A Vulcan diplomat onboard Enterprise. What could possibly go wrong?
Archive: Let me know where.
Rating: I guess PG, for now.
Disclaimers: Star Trek and its many incarnations are the property of others and therefore I do not financially benefit from this in any way.
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Archer ran hard. Sweat poured off his forehead in tiny rivulets that made their way down his face; his t-shirt was soaked, but on he ran. He closed his eyes and tried to picture a relaxing scene, maybe running along the beach, 'yeah, that'd be nice,' he thought. But, the image wouldn't hold, and before long he was mentally right back where he started, the Enterprise gym, putting a treadmill to the test.
The gym was deserted. It was early afternoon, and most of the crew was either on duty or in the middle of their sleep cycle. So, he trudged through another kilometer alone. The sound of his footfalls echoed heavily through the small room and the hum of the machine droned on as he used it to regulate his breathing. Despite the theoretical distance he'd gone, he knew he wasn't exhausted enough to sleep yet. At least, not without the dreams.
'Maybe I should contact Lady T'Shar, like Phlox suggested,' he thought. He knew that T'Pol had been a great help to Trip during their time in the Expanse, but he just wasn't ready to admit he needed a shoulder to cry on, not that he envisioned himself literally crying, least of all on a Vulcan shoulder, but still...he just couldn't do it.
The door whooshed open and he heard the soft footsteps approach. He opened his eyes reluctantly to acknowledge the fellow crewman and was surprised to find the object of his most recent thoughts standing beside the treadmill. Lady T'Shar was dressed in the traditional robes of her people, but something about her relayed an attitude of relaxation.
"Captain," she greeted. "I hope I'm not disturbing you, but I was in Sickbay visiting with T'Pol when Dr. Phlox mentioned that you have a problem that I may be able to assist you with."
Archer reached out a hand and shut off the treadmill. He grabbed his towel from the handlebar and wiped his face before replying. "Really? Well, Dr. Phlox should mind his own business. Sorry you made a trip down here for nothing, but I'm fine." He walked calmly over to the weight bench. He laid down and began to lift the bar up and over his chest.
T'Shar watched with growing confusion. "Do not be embarrassed, Captain. It is logical that people occasionally need some assistance in dealing with their emotions. As I am trained in many methods of therapy, I am a logical resource for that help."
The Captain pumped the weights up and down in earnest. "I bet you Vulcans don't need help, do you? You probably don't even have feelings like anger, regret, fury, doubt..." his voice trailed off.
"Of course we do. As I'm sure you know by now, Vulcans have the same emotions as humans. In fact, Vulcan emotions are very powerful. That is why we must suppress them, so that they do not control us. As a result, we have developed a variety of therapies to assist us in that endeavor." She had moved closer to the Captain and was watching him closely. He was nearing the point of exhaustion and she worried for his safety as he raised and lowered the weights repeatedly.
"Yeah, well, I'm not Vulcan. I don't want to suppress my feelings. They are part of who I am, good and bad. I just have to learn to live with them." He could feel the muscles of his arms tiring out. His repetitions began to slow and his breathing was becoming haggard.
"I quite agree; humans should not attempt to suppress emotions, but they can manage them better, incorporate them into their being with greater acceptance. You should not deny your feelings, Captain, but neither should you let them dominate your life."
He reached up to place the bar back in its holder, but his arms had grown weak and he missed. As he watched, the heavy bar fell toward his head, but suddenly it stopped. He looked up to see Lady T'Shar holding the offending piece of equipment with one hand. She gently placed it in its carriage as she said, "You are a friend to my daughter and to her chosen one. Please, let me help you master yourself."
Archer closed his eyes in resignation and acceptance. He nodded slowly.
"Ah, Commander," Phlox stated jovially as Trip entered Sickbay. "How good to see you, and perfect timing, too."
"What'd'ya mean, 'perfect timing', doc?"
"I was just about to release Commander T'Pol and I would appreciate it if you would escort her to her quarters and see that she gets properly settled in. She is still on restricted duty and mandatory rest." He waved at the Commander to follow him further into the medical chamber.
T'Pol opened the curtain that had been drawn around her bed and walked toward the men, meeting them halfway across the room. "Indeed, I am in need of meditation more than anything else." At Trip's slight tilt of the head she amended, "Well, almost anything else."
Tucker approached her, a broad smile forming on his face, and stood by her side. She quirked an eyebrow at him and his smile grew. "Ya' got it, doc. I'll get her home right now." He placed a hand gently on her elbow to guide her from the room.
The doctor grinned widely before it turned to a quick frown. He turned to face the retreating figures and clarified, "She needs rest, Commander. That means sleep, nothing else. Understood?"
"Why, doc, whatever do ya' mean?" The acting captain pushed his charge steadily through the doors.
To say that T'Pol was disappointed would be an understatement. She knew, logically, that her body needed rest, but all she really wanted was for Trip to hold her close and make love to her all night long. He, however, had no intentions of being responsible for a relapse in her condition.
"Now, darlin', the doc says you need rest, and that's what you're gonna get." He tucked her gently into the bunk amid her protests.
"Surely, though, you can stay and keep me company? Perhaps some conversation?" If she were human, it would've been a whine.
"Uh uh, no way. If I stay to 'talk' ya' won't get any sleep and then the doc'll probably drug me just to keep me away from ya'." He proceeded to blow out the meditation candles she had finished using a short time ago.
She gave him her version of a pout, which looked just like every other expression she made, but was quiet. He came and sat beside her on the bunk. "I want to ask ya' somethin'." He shyly looked down at his hands, then he reached out and took one of hers and held it. "Would ya' do me the honor of havin' dinner with me tomorrow night?"
"Trip, we have had many meals together."
"Yeah, but I want to ask ya' out on a real date, without havin' to wonder if anybody suspects anythin'."
T'Pol considered this. The Captain knew of their relationship, as did Lt. Reed, and by extension probably most of the crew. Her Mother knew and even approved. She could find no logical reason to maintain an illusion of distance. "I would be honored to have dinner with you, Charles."
"Aw, now, don't do that. Ya' know I hate that name!" He smiled just the same and kissed her cheek. "Goodnight, darlin'. I'll see ya' tomorrow.
As he stood to go, she whispered softly, "I love you, Trip."
End Chapter 8
Notes: I'm leaving for vacation tomorrow, so I won't be able to post the next chapter for almost two weeks. I hope you'll stick with me though! See ya soon!
By: Angel
Summary: A Vulcan diplomat onboard Enterprise. What could possibly go wrong?
Archive: Let me know where.
Rating: I guess PG, for now.
Disclaimers: Star Trek and its many incarnations are the property of others and therefore I do not financially benefit from this in any way.
888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888
Archer ran hard. Sweat poured off his forehead in tiny rivulets that made their way down his face; his t-shirt was soaked, but on he ran. He closed his eyes and tried to picture a relaxing scene, maybe running along the beach, 'yeah, that'd be nice,' he thought. But, the image wouldn't hold, and before long he was mentally right back where he started, the Enterprise gym, putting a treadmill to the test.
The gym was deserted. It was early afternoon, and most of the crew was either on duty or in the middle of their sleep cycle. So, he trudged through another kilometer alone. The sound of his footfalls echoed heavily through the small room and the hum of the machine droned on as he used it to regulate his breathing. Despite the theoretical distance he'd gone, he knew he wasn't exhausted enough to sleep yet. At least, not without the dreams.
'Maybe I should contact Lady T'Shar, like Phlox suggested,' he thought. He knew that T'Pol had been a great help to Trip during their time in the Expanse, but he just wasn't ready to admit he needed a shoulder to cry on, not that he envisioned himself literally crying, least of all on a Vulcan shoulder, but still...he just couldn't do it.
The door whooshed open and he heard the soft footsteps approach. He opened his eyes reluctantly to acknowledge the fellow crewman and was surprised to find the object of his most recent thoughts standing beside the treadmill. Lady T'Shar was dressed in the traditional robes of her people, but something about her relayed an attitude of relaxation.
"Captain," she greeted. "I hope I'm not disturbing you, but I was in Sickbay visiting with T'Pol when Dr. Phlox mentioned that you have a problem that I may be able to assist you with."
Archer reached out a hand and shut off the treadmill. He grabbed his towel from the handlebar and wiped his face before replying. "Really? Well, Dr. Phlox should mind his own business. Sorry you made a trip down here for nothing, but I'm fine." He walked calmly over to the weight bench. He laid down and began to lift the bar up and over his chest.
T'Shar watched with growing confusion. "Do not be embarrassed, Captain. It is logical that people occasionally need some assistance in dealing with their emotions. As I am trained in many methods of therapy, I am a logical resource for that help."
The Captain pumped the weights up and down in earnest. "I bet you Vulcans don't need help, do you? You probably don't even have feelings like anger, regret, fury, doubt..." his voice trailed off.
"Of course we do. As I'm sure you know by now, Vulcans have the same emotions as humans. In fact, Vulcan emotions are very powerful. That is why we must suppress them, so that they do not control us. As a result, we have developed a variety of therapies to assist us in that endeavor." She had moved closer to the Captain and was watching him closely. He was nearing the point of exhaustion and she worried for his safety as he raised and lowered the weights repeatedly.
"Yeah, well, I'm not Vulcan. I don't want to suppress my feelings. They are part of who I am, good and bad. I just have to learn to live with them." He could feel the muscles of his arms tiring out. His repetitions began to slow and his breathing was becoming haggard.
"I quite agree; humans should not attempt to suppress emotions, but they can manage them better, incorporate them into their being with greater acceptance. You should not deny your feelings, Captain, but neither should you let them dominate your life."
He reached up to place the bar back in its holder, but his arms had grown weak and he missed. As he watched, the heavy bar fell toward his head, but suddenly it stopped. He looked up to see Lady T'Shar holding the offending piece of equipment with one hand. She gently placed it in its carriage as she said, "You are a friend to my daughter and to her chosen one. Please, let me help you master yourself."
Archer closed his eyes in resignation and acceptance. He nodded slowly.
"Ah, Commander," Phlox stated jovially as Trip entered Sickbay. "How good to see you, and perfect timing, too."
"What'd'ya mean, 'perfect timing', doc?"
"I was just about to release Commander T'Pol and I would appreciate it if you would escort her to her quarters and see that she gets properly settled in. She is still on restricted duty and mandatory rest." He waved at the Commander to follow him further into the medical chamber.
T'Pol opened the curtain that had been drawn around her bed and walked toward the men, meeting them halfway across the room. "Indeed, I am in need of meditation more than anything else." At Trip's slight tilt of the head she amended, "Well, almost anything else."
Tucker approached her, a broad smile forming on his face, and stood by her side. She quirked an eyebrow at him and his smile grew. "Ya' got it, doc. I'll get her home right now." He placed a hand gently on her elbow to guide her from the room.
The doctor grinned widely before it turned to a quick frown. He turned to face the retreating figures and clarified, "She needs rest, Commander. That means sleep, nothing else. Understood?"
"Why, doc, whatever do ya' mean?" The acting captain pushed his charge steadily through the doors.
To say that T'Pol was disappointed would be an understatement. She knew, logically, that her body needed rest, but all she really wanted was for Trip to hold her close and make love to her all night long. He, however, had no intentions of being responsible for a relapse in her condition.
"Now, darlin', the doc says you need rest, and that's what you're gonna get." He tucked her gently into the bunk amid her protests.
"Surely, though, you can stay and keep me company? Perhaps some conversation?" If she were human, it would've been a whine.
"Uh uh, no way. If I stay to 'talk' ya' won't get any sleep and then the doc'll probably drug me just to keep me away from ya'." He proceeded to blow out the meditation candles she had finished using a short time ago.
She gave him her version of a pout, which looked just like every other expression she made, but was quiet. He came and sat beside her on the bunk. "I want to ask ya' somethin'." He shyly looked down at his hands, then he reached out and took one of hers and held it. "Would ya' do me the honor of havin' dinner with me tomorrow night?"
"Trip, we have had many meals together."
"Yeah, but I want to ask ya' out on a real date, without havin' to wonder if anybody suspects anythin'."
T'Pol considered this. The Captain knew of their relationship, as did Lt. Reed, and by extension probably most of the crew. Her Mother knew and even approved. She could find no logical reason to maintain an illusion of distance. "I would be honored to have dinner with you, Charles."
"Aw, now, don't do that. Ya' know I hate that name!" He smiled just the same and kissed her cheek. "Goodnight, darlin'. I'll see ya' tomorrow.
As he stood to go, she whispered softly, "I love you, Trip."
End Chapter 8
Notes: I'm leaving for vacation tomorrow, so I won't be able to post the next chapter for almost two weeks. I hope you'll stick with me though! See ya soon!