"Charles, please calm down," T'Pol appealed. But he stormed across the room and threw a PADD against the wall, shattering it into pieces.
"I will not calm down goddammit!!" Calmly she bent down and scooped the shards of glass and circuitry into her cupped palm. "How could you do that, T'Pol? You nearly got yourself killed!"
She turned her hand over a trash receptacle but found she could not raise her eyes to meet his own. Trip was right to be angry with her - Captain Archer had denied her request to continue working with the Trellium-D, unwilling to jeopardize her health - they would find another way, he promised. But she had ignored his direct order, running experiments in her off-hours, and finally modifying a shuttle pod and flying into enemy territory. If it hadn't been for Commander Tucker's ingenuity and Ensign Mayweather's superior piloting skills, T'Pol would have been captured by the Xindi. Of course, the fact that her experiment had been a success didn't seem to be winning her any favours.
"I had to do it," she tried to reason, but he was hearing none of it.
"No, T'Pol - you took unnecessary risks. We could have found another way -"
"You don't know that!" T'Pol yelled and grabbed his arms. His first instinct was to throw her off of him, but he stayed it.
"Humans are many things, but they are not precognitant. If I had obeyed the captain's orders, we would not be able to complete our mission."
Trip's jaw clenched but he forced himself to relax and drew her tightly into his embrace.
"I'm sorry for yellin', but…Jesus, I could've lost you today." He pressed a kiss to her temple. "And I don't know what I'd do without ya."
T'Pol turned her face into his chest. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
"I mean, did ya even consider what could've happened to you? If the Xindi -"
"I did not intend to be caught," she interrupted, her voice slightly muffled by his uniform.
He sighed in exasperation. "But if you were? You didn't even say goodbye." Trip pulled away far enough to tilt her chin up and look in her chocolate-brown eyes. "Don't scare me like that again, darlin'."
"I won't," she whispered, just before his mouth claimed hers in a kiss that expressed all the fear and anger stored up inside him. T'Pol kissed him back with equal passion, grasping his neck and opening her mouth to his questing tongue. They stumbled towards the bed, his demanding hands already tugging at her catsuit. At the last moment, she spun him around and pushed, then straddled his lap as he was forced to sit.
She playfully nipped his jaw and wiggled suggestively. "Can I tell you a secret?" she asked as she helped him peel her clothes from her body.
"So long as it's not something bad," he replied against the silk of her skin.
She grabbed a fistful of his hair and tilted his neck back. Her tongue traced a wet path from his chest to his ear, where she stopped and whispered, "I like it when you're angry."
Then he flipped her over and showed her just how angry he was.
"This is a formal reprimand, Sub-Commander. It would go on your record, except that you aren't technically Starfleet personnel. And it doesn't matter much to the Vulcans because you don't work for them either."
T'Pol kept her back straight and eyes forward, even though the Captain's harsh words cut her deeply. The human emotions that she now permanently felt as a result of her Trellium-D poisoning made interactions with the crew far more upsetting for her when she hadn't had time to meditate - and she definitely had not meditated after she had been returned to the Enterprise.
"So, what do you have to say for yourself?" Archer demanded.
"I would like to apologize," she replied, in as placating a tone as possible, "for acting rashly and in direct opposition to your orders."
The Captain nodded curtly, and gestured for her to leave. But she didn't.
"However, I would also like to point out that my experiment was a success, and we can now travel without serious accident through the Expanse."
"But at what cost!" Archer cried. He pounded his fist on his desk, making T'Pol jump ever so slightly. "You never would have flinched before," he admonished. "You've caused irreparable damage to your neural pathways, you were nearly taken captive, and you risked the lives of this crew when they had to come rescue you!"
He stepped into her personal space, but she did not react to his invasion. "You're suspended from duties until Phlox confirms you're fit to return to them. Until then, I do not want to see you anywhere near engineering - you are restricted from aiding Commander Tucker and his crew in any way while they make the appropriate modifications to the systems."
T'Pol ignored protocol and looked him in the eye. "You mean -"
"Yes, T'Pol. You were right, I was wrong - we're even having a party tonight to celebrate. I expect to see you there."
She stood in front of him, dumbfounded, until he forcefully dismissed her.
"Well, don't you look a sight," Trip murmured when T'Pol opened her cabin door for him that evening.
With mild disdain, she touched the flowing skirt of her deep red dress. "Ensign Sato selected this outfit. She assured me it would be appropriate, but if it isn't, there is more than enough time to allow me to change."
He grinned at her self-consciousness. "Don't you dare - you're more than beautiful in that."
"So, how does it feel to be the cause of such celebration?" Phlox asked T'Pol as they wall-flowered together near the punchbowl.
"I believe it to be over-rated," she replied, watching the crew jive and jitterbug the night away.
Sato and Mayweather were showing off what they had learned in dance lessons over the years, and an admiring crowd had formed around them. Trip and Reed were among them, hooting and hollering and enjoying themselves, which was more than T'Pol could say for herself.
Then Trip caught her eye, grinned widely, and she suddenly found herself drawn towards him. The world practically fell away, making them feel they were the only two in the room, and when he pulled her into his arms, the dance came naturally.
The crowd around the jiving ensigns soon turned their attention to the oblivious lovebirds. Sensing a change in the mood, Captain Archer modified the computer's play list to include a set of slow songs. As the crew began pairing off, Sato and Mayweather cuddling like high school sweethearts, Cutler teaching Phlox a few 20th century dance steps, Jon couldn't help but believe this crew would make it. At that moment, he felt there was nothing they couldn't do - this crew, these people, they knew how to turn dire situations into cause for celebration.
He had never felt so proud.
"Well Captain," came a voice from his side, "it looks like you and I are the only two not dancing." Virginia Hess smiled up at him and hooked her arm with his. "Want to burn up the dance floor with me?"
Jonathan gave her one of his winning smiles. "That sounds wonderful, Lieutenant."
"Oh, no," she laughed as he spun her, "at this party you have to call me something else."
"Okay," he agreed and pulled her curvy body tightly against his own. "I'll call you Virginia if you call me Jon?"
"Make it Ginny and you've got yourself a deal, handsome."
And the Enterprise danced the night away.