A/N: Thanks to all who left a review! I took some comments into consideration when forming this chapter, so I hope you enjoy. I plan to have one more chapter in this story.

A/N 2: I'm sorry that this took so long to update. Partially it was deciding whether or not to continue, and then has been acting up.

Disclaimer: I haven't gotten the rights since chapter one.

Discernment

"Remember, Commander, do not exert yourself," said Phlox as Trip and T'Pol were going out the door.

"I'll keep an' eye on her," replied Trip.

"With your record, I'm not quite reassured."

T'Pol raised an eyebrow. "Dr. Phlox has a valid point, Trip. You have proven yourself to be a difficult patient."

"I'm glad you remember that, but you're not the easiest patient either." He turned to Phlox. "Who is the easiest patient anyway, Doc?"

The doctor had gone over to water his recently-acquired Trolikan soothing plant. He looked up and answered without missing a beat. "Porthos." Trip's laughter bridged the gap between Sickbay and the outside world.

On the way to their quarters, Trip looked at T'Pol with great concern. "You're really confused, huh?"

"I can recall walking to my own quarters for the past six years, but then I remember when we returned from our honeymoon."

Captain Archer had sent them off on a 'honeymoon' shortly after their marriage. It was a tropical planet, uninhabited by sentient beings. They spent four pleasant days there, camping. T'Pol had not expected to enjoy the wilderness experience, but both she and Trip relished the time spent, in his words, "alone together."

"Welcome back, Mr. and Mrs. Tucker," said the captain when they returned. "How was your honeymoon? I wish it could've been longer."

"I do not intend to change my name, but we had a pleasant time, thank you."

"We know ya had to pull some strings for the time we had. Thanks." Trip had acquired a tan during their stay, and his wide smile stood in contrast to the darker hue of his skin.

"You'll be happy to know that we had an uneventful four days. Not much happened while you were gone." The captain knew how much Trip liked to return to a smoothly-running warp core and no catastrophes.

"There was a spectacular sunset down there. It was real purpley. We watched the sun set, had s'mores…it was great!"

"How'd you like s'mores, T'Pol?" asked Captain Archer.

"They were quite sweet, but palatable. I do not intend to eat them often, however." She considered for a moment, then added, "The 'ambiance' contributed to the food greatly."

The captain smiled. "Sounds like fun." They entered the turbolift, and T'Pol wondered why Captain Archer was escorting them back. Down on the planet, she and Trip had discussed living arrangements, and come to the conclusion that she would move into his quarters. As she had less material possessions to move, it was logical.

"Did you take pictures, Trip? I'd like to see this sunset."

He smiled. "I took some. This remote-control camera," he held up his latest contraption, "is a great thing." A project in the works for some time, Trip's 'souped-up' camera had gotten its first use on their honeymoon.

"I'm glad that worked out. There was a pool in Engineering on how many pictures you'd take, by the way."

"How many did you guess?" T'Pol was surprised that Trip expected Captain Archer to participate, as he often acted indignant when his friends participated in such pools.

"Sixty-two."

"Sorry, Jon. I didn't take half as many. Who's runnin' this pool, by the way?"

"I'm not at liberty to say."

"Hess." The captain didn't reply, and Trip turned to his wife. "That means I'm right. I guess you don't wanna have a slide show, huh?" The trio walked out of the turbolift and through the corridor, earning smiles from passing crewmembers.

"No, but we can select a few photos to 'show off' if you wish."

"We can frame one!"

"I want a copy," added Captain Archer. "Here we are." An unrestrained smile broke out on his face. "Welcome home!"

Both the door to T'Pol's quarters and the door to Lieutenant Reed's adjacent quarters were open. Between them hung a banner with Congratulations Trip and T'Pol! painted on in bright blue letters. Neat Vulcan script was below in red.

"Wow!" Trip, whose grasp of the Vulcan language was progressing but still rudimentary, leaned over and pointed to the second line. "What's that say?"

"'Prosper together," translated T'Pol.

"Hoshi says it's a traditional wedding wish," interjected the captain.

"It is." T'Pol had expected some sort of celebration from her crewmates, but not of the kind they received. It was quite emotional, but that did not bother her. She was honored that her crewmates thought their marriage worth the gesture.

"Welcome to your shared quarters," said a chorus from inside.

"Wait!" called Trip. T'Pol hesitated, and he picked her up.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm carryin' ya across the threshold."

Partially enlightened, she looked around. The wall dividing her quarters from Lieutenant Reed's had been removed, and Trip's belongings were now where the lieutenant had lived before. In the center of their quarters stood both beds, joined together. The frames had been welded, and the mattresses joined as well.

Ensign Mayweather, Doctor Phlox, Lieutenant Reed, and Ensign Sato stood inside smiling. Trip put her down, and T'Pol found that the pleasure he derived from carrying her over the threshold was worth the somewhat undignified experience.

"We didn't know what to get you," began the captain, "but we thought you might like bigger quarters. Malcolm offered to switch."

Trip walked around, examining their new living arrangement. "This is great!"

T'Pol marveled at the joy the rest of the senior staff appeared to derive from giving their wedding gift. It was a characteristic of humans that she found overlooked by most Vulcans, although there were some who slowly began to challenge that thinking. It was an emotional experience to be sure, but the delight evident on her crewmate's faces when their work for others was appreciated was a trait that she considered admirable.

At last she spoke her gratitude aloud. "Thank you for this considerate gift." She thought of something Trip had once mentioned about useless presents. "It is a present that we will use frequently."

In response, all of her crewmates – and yes, she supposed, they were friends as well- laughed.

She sat down as Trip lit her meditation candles. The flickering glow was familiar and comforting, as were the loving emotions she felt from Trip. Wordlessly, he took her hands and began to breathe in the same rhythm as T'Pol.

In the "white room," as he called her meditative state, he asked, "How much do you remember about the crash?"

"Ensign Matterson informed me that the debris-laden nebula had caused several microfissures in the hull. We were unable to repair them adequately. I attempted a safe landing, but he was thrown against his console and lost consciousness, and my arm was injured. I could not tell if it was broken or not, because nearly as soon as we landed we were boarded. The boarding party consisted of five individuals, all heavily armed. My attempts at fighting were of no use. They had a strange weapon that shot out rope and snared me. Once bound, we were carried to ground vehicles…" T'Pol trailed off. "I believe that I was given a sedative at that point."

"Oh boy, Malcolm's gonna love this rope gun," mumbled Trip in a poorly disguised effort to rein in his anger. The thought of his beloved wife being treated so badly made his blood boil.

She felt the stirrings of another memory, but though she could detect its presence T'Pol could not recall the actual event. She drew heavily on Trip's strength to pull the memory to the surface. He imagined it as if they were slowly pulling a rope from deep water. With their sustained and combined effort, the memory surfaced.

The sedative had worn off, and a masked face leaned over her bound form. Deep black hair was the only visible characteristic of the individual before her, who was talking with a colleague out of her sight. A shot was injected into her shoulder.

The translator picked up on two phrases, which could indicate that the individuals who abducted her were from a species Enterprise had encountered. "Legendary Vulcan control," she heard, followed by a series of unintelligible sounds. Then, right before she lost consciousness again, "ideal test subject."

Angry at what T'Pol suffered, Trip suggested, "Maybe we should stop now."

"Recalling the events has been more tiring than I anticipated. Though I wish to consider more memories, I believe you are correct."

They gently broke of the meditation, and Trip offered his hands to pull T'Pol up. "We'll get this sorted out, you an' I."

She looked into his eyes and basked in the love, admiration, and respect he felt for her. "I know."