A/N: I apologize in advance for the cheesiness of this chapter.

Day 20

"Captain's log: Two species, both alike in dignity, on fair Enterprise, where we lay our scene. From ancient grudge break forth to new mutiny, where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. From forth the fatal loins of these two foes, a pair of star-crossed lovers take their life."

T'Pol swept across her room, her gown billowing behind her. She was in desperate need for her lover to come and remedy her loneliness. "Commander, Commander, whereforeart thou, Commander?"

"Um, T'Pol?" The voice came from behind her. "I'm right here."

She turned around and there he was, lying prone on her bunk, as if he'd been there for hours. But he hadn't been there only seconds ago. He sat up. He was shirtless, just as it should be – just as he should always be. Those foolish Starfleet uniforms angered her, as they prevented her from gazing upon his beautiful form as often as she wanted.

She flung her arms out, inviting him to enter her embrace. "Deny thy father and refuse thy species. Or if thou wilt not be but sworn my love and I'll no longer be a Vulcan."

Trip shrugged. "Okay. Sure."

T'Pol crossed her arms and scrunched her face into the trademark pout she used only with the commander. "Commander Tucker, you are not adhering to the rules of this dream sequence."

He stood up and crossed the room in three easy strides. "I'm sorry, T'Pol," he said, cupping her face with his hands. "I was never a big fan of Shakespeare. I had to read his stuff in high school, yeah, but I – "

She stretched up to press her lips against his, silencing him with a kiss that turned her knees to water. When she pulled back, he was smiling.

"Hell, darlin', whatever you want." He cleared his throat and whispered his next line into her ear. "But soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and T'Pol is the sun." He nipped her earlobe. "And a very sexy sun she is."

T'Pol nodded, running her fingers through his hair. He shivered in response to her caresses. "'Tis but thy species that is my enemy. Thou art thyself, thou, not a human. What's a human? It is not hand, nor foot, nor arm, nor face, nor any other part belonging to a man."

Trip grinned and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "I know which part you're interested in, honey."

She playfully slapped him on the arm. "Commander…"

"Right. Sorry. Arise fair sun, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief." He traced the edge of her bare arms with his index fingers, and she trembled. "You do realize that these are all out of order, right? We're not doin' the play right."

She cocked her head to the side, the mood broken. "It is highly illogical."

He chuckled softly and took her hands in his. "Love usually is."

"They did not need to die. Their decisions were not based in logic."

He sighed and tugged her closer, wrapping his arms around her and resting his hands on the small of her back. "The best decisions aren't made with logic, T'Pol. They're made with the heart."

T'Pol buried her head in his chest and deeply inhaled his scent. How she desired him. This illogical human, who was nothing if not arrogant, irrational, and frustrating, had wedged himself into her mind so forcefully that no amount of meditation could extract his presence. "What if the heart doesn't know what it wants?"

Trip nuzzled her neck. "The heart never knows what it wants. It only knows what it feels. So I guess the question is, how do I make you feel?"

T'Pol's eyes snapped open. She slowly shifted into a seated position, turning over the events of the highly illogical dream in her head. Most unusual, that she should dream about the play Romeo and Juliet inserting herself and Trip into the title roles. She wondered if humans had such odd dreams.

She reached over to turn on her light, suddenly in desperate need of meditation. As she arranged herself in the proper posture on the floor, the door chimed. She glanced at the chronometer. It was late, but there was only one person whom it could possibly be.

"Come in."

Trip opened the door and quickly stepped into the room. He looked uncomfortable. She could sense his discomfort from across the room. "Sorry to bother you so late, T'Pol," he said, "but I didn't know what else to do."

T'Pol raised her eyebrows, immediately concerned. "You have a problem, Commander?"

He sighed. "I can't sleep."

Her heart leapt into her throat, a most illogical reaction. "Do you believe you would benefit from a neuro-pressure session?"

"I tried to fix it on my own, but I can't." He rubbed the back of his neck and looked at the floor. "I need to sleep, T'Pol. I can't function much longer."

She nodded thoughtfully. "You should be rested before we arrive on Vulcan. If other methods have failed, it is only logical that you wish to undergo neuro-pressure."

He glanced up at her, his eyes shy. She had never seen that look in his eyes before. She found that she liked it. "Are you sure?" he asked. "I mean, the last time we had neuro-pressure, we…"

He didn't need to finish, but she still found it suddenly difficult to speak. "We are both adults, Trip. We should be able to control ourselves."

The faintest traces of a smile graced his lips. "Emphasis on 'should'."