Chapter 9
AU for "The Council" and "Countdown."
A/N: Just be forewarned—this chapter and the next one are more AU than most I've written in this story. Author's Note at the end of chapter 10 will explain why.
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Once he'd touched her, really touched her, Trip didn't want to stop.
It wasn't physical. Not emotional either, not really. His connection with her existed in a realm he couldn't yet name. He doubted T'Pol would even have a name for it. It just was. They were together.
One.
In his mind. In her mind.
And now, in some space that was new, and was theirs, together.
Trip had awoken in sickbay and known instantly that everything was different. T'Pol's presence and every one of her beautiful emotions had been there in his mind, pressed against his. He'd breathed in, neurons deprived of her now sparking, and a second later, sense had returned.
His first thought was that he was dreaming. He forced himself to open his eyes, resigned, thinking that his imagination would allow the heady feeling to fade. But his eyes met hers, and wonderful reality sank in.
It was real. She was here. And she'd let him back in.
Joy suffused him, and it hadn't left since.
"Doctor?" T'Pol had said, not breaking eye contact with Trip.
Phlox was there, just on his other side, but Trip couldn't tear himself away from her warm brown gaze, her relief more visible than he'd ever imagined possible. He grabbed T'Pol's hand, interlocking their fingers.
"Your vitals have stabilized," Phlox said. "Even more so now that you're touching. Fascinating."
Trip pulled T'Pol's hand up and cradled it against his chest, squeezing once before finally pulling his eyes away from hers and turning to Phlox.
"How long was I out, doc?"
"An hour or so," Phlox said. "Captain Lorian had the phase pistol set on the lowest stun setting, but the shock exacerbated your other conditions until your body had no choice but to preserve energy in an attempt to heal."
Trip frowned, and squeezed T'Pol's hand again before carefully letting go and pushing himself to a sitting position. His head spun a bit, and T'Pol quickly gripped his hand again. The dizziness dissipated.
Trip looked ruefully at their intertwined fingers. "This could be a problem. As much as I like ya, T'Pol, I probably shouldn't have to hold your hand all day." He gave her a lopsided smile and ran his thumb along hers.
"That would be quite impractical," she said dryly.
"I believe these symptoms are temporary," Phlox said. He looked around sickbay to ensure they were out of earshot of other patients, then said in a near-whisper, "Now that you are telepathically connected again, you should return to normal with some time."
"My knowledge of mating bonds is limited, but your hypothesis seems plausible," T'Pol said quietly.
"I wonder—" Phlox said, only to stop and peer at them closely.
Trip felt wariness rise with the look on Phlox's face. "What?"
Phlox took a quick look around again, just to make sure. "Do you think the percentage of skin-to-skin contact would lessen the recovery time?"
"Percentage of surface area?"
Phlox nodded eagerly. "Precisely."
"Most certainly," T'Pol said. "It is well-established that Vulcan telepathy is enhanced via touch." She turned and looked at Trip, this time with what Trip thought of as her "problem-solving" face. "I believe increasing the total surface area of skin contact would have an exponential effect."
"Ah, what now?" Trip said, jaw dropping, suddenly realizing what they were getting at. He felt his palms beginning to sweat. "Doc—"
"It is not practical now, however," T'Pol stated matter-of-factly, ignoring him. "We cannot take the time. Not when the Commander's vital signs are so improved."
Phlox was nodding avidly. "Of course. However, in future, if you believe such contact may hasten the healing process, I am quite ready to add it as a preferred treatment. Do you believe that sexual contact would also—"
A sudden throat clearing at sickbay's entrance interrupted Phlox, and Trip both flushed cherry red and breathed a sigh of relief. Captain Archer stood a respectful distance away, his face set in an expression of serious concern. It looked like he hadn't overheard the details of this fun conversation.
"How's our patient?"
"Doing well, Captain," Phox said cheerfully. "If you'll just give us a few minutes more, I can brief you on the situation." Captain Archer raised an eyebrow at Phlox's implied request for privacy, but he backed away, walking across sickbay.
Once the captain was mostly out of earshot, Phlox turned to Trip and said quietly, "Try pulling your hand away again. This time, slowly."
Trip did, his fingers sliding against hers before finally breaking contact.
Phlox was watching the monitors, nodding as Trip's vitals took only a slight dip. "How do you feel?"
"Tired," Trip admitted. "But not too bad."
"Excellent." In a louder voice, he said, "We're ready for you, Captain."
Archer got down to business immediately. "When can he return to duty?"
"I would like him to stay in sickbay for another hour, but if he continues to do well, he can return to limited duty after that."
"Limited?"
"He should avoid the catwalks and ladders for the next 24 hours, at least."
Archer nodded. "We're prepped for the subspace corridor. We'll reach it in just about an hour."
Trip's ears perked up at that. "Kelby's finished the modifications to the manifolds?"
"He said they'd be finished within the next 30 minutes. I'll order him to report to you here and review everything. We'll wait to go through the corridor until you're back in Engineering."
"Yes, sir."
Archer turned to T'Pol. "You're needed on the bridge."
"Yes, Captain," she said, but hesitated. "Lorian?"
The Captain frowned, but let out a dry chuckle anyway. "He's your son, that's for certain. He knows what he wants and he's not afraid to fight for it."
Archer sighed and dropped his head, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked exhausted. "He's back on his ship. They're going to help us fight the Kovaalans if they cause us trouble."
Trip and T'Pol exchanged a glance, and Trip suddenly felt a wave of loss from T'Pol, surprised to find his own surging as well. Lorian had been a revelation, a glimpse into the possibilities of a future together. And despite Lorian's most recent desperate actions, Trip was proud of him, whether he was his true father or not.
It was sobering to realize they may never see him again.
"Glad you're on the mend, Trip," Archer said, and turned and left sickbay.
"I should report for duty," T'Pol said, but stayed at his side, searching his face.
"Are we okay?" Trip asked.
T'Pol looked at him for a long time before answering. "My anger has not disappeared."
Her eyes became slightly shuttered again, and Trip quickly turned his focus inward, breathing a sigh of relief when he confirmed that she was still there in his mind, no barriers between them.
Still, they weren't harmonious. Not yet.
"I really am sorry, T'Pol."
She studied his face for a few more seconds, head tilted slightly to the side, before reaching out and taking both of his hands in hers.
"Our relationship will not be without conflict," she finally said, her voice softer than he'd ever heard it.
"Our relationship?" He gripped her hands and tried a smile. "You'll try to work this out with me?"
She looked down. "Severing such a tie is difficult and painful, according to my research."
His heart dropped. "You looked into it?"
"I consulted the Vulcan database."
Trip felt his mouth go dry. Just moments ago he'd been euphoric—she'd let him back in. But now—it wasn't what he'd thought. Heart sinking a little lower, Trip realized she'd just done the most logical thing to save him.
It didn't mean she wanted him.
"So you're stuck with me and you're makin' the best of it."
Her eyes shot to his and she gripped his hands more tightly. Voice dropping to a whisper, she looked around before saying, "We cannot have this conversation here. It is not private and there is no time."
"It's fine," he said, gravel in his voice, spine stiffening. He had to put some distance between them. It was for his own preservation, wasn't it?
His head spun. Distance—was that even possible with this telepathic connection? They were exposed to each other, raw, more vulnerable than they ever had been before. He had no idea how to protect himself. And if she didn't love him, didn't really want him—she wouldn't always protect him. Not the way he wanted—needed—to protect her.
Trip couldn't give her everything, not if she wouldn't be an equal partner. But didn't this connection mean she already had everything, all of him, already?
God, he was so confused. The silence hung, and the tension grew thick.
After another minute, he couldn't take it anymore. "What do you want from me?"
It came out broken, pained, revealing much more desperation than he'd meant to convey. Still, it wasn't like she couldn't feel it coming from him anyway. He had no way to protect himself. She had complete access, and he could do nothing to hide.
The irony did not escape him—it's exactly what she'd told him a few days earlier. His guilt grew. He'd never understood, not really. Not until right now.
When T'Pol didn't answer his anguished question, Trip couldn't sit there any longer. He tried to pull his hands away.
She gripped them tighter, and the look in her eyes was so intense it made him dizzy.
She felt something for him. What? He tried to focus, tried to define it, but it was like he was at the center of a spinning vortex, surrounded by the complexity of her, and he couldn't make sense of it. Couldn't figure her out. And because of that, couldn't reposition himself in response to her.
He held her gaze, desperate for an anchor.
She seemed to know what he needed. "Breathe deeply, Trip," she said softly. "You are safe."
Her words paused the maelstrom, and his deep breath cleansed his mind. She maintained eye contact for a long moment more before growing still. She closed her eyes.
His vision suddenly burst brighter, forcing him to reflexively close his own.
And then, there she was, again. Inside his mind, burning brightly. This time it wasn't so frantic. All of her emotion had been offered up to him, just like before. This time, it appeared compressed, but vital. Alive. Strong, firm, unmistakable emotion.
In wonder, he inched closer, trying to define it. It took seconds to realize he couldn't. There were no words for this. Later, when he took the time to turn it over in his mind, he would realize that it was a blend of emotions, not just one, not simple, but intricate and complex. All interwoven, tightly packed, but alive.
It was also neither positive nor negative. It was multifaceted, and it had the shape of change, ebbing, flowing, morphing, as she reacted to the situation now.
Bits and tendrils escaped, twirling over toward him until he felt them. Trepidation. Relief. Stubbornness. Anger was there too, but not as intense as he would have predicted.
And underpinning it all, deep, strong affection. For him.
His body seemed to relax all at once at the realization. She did care.
The intensity of the emotions faded from his perception, and he opened his eyes to find her staring at him.
"Do you understand?"
"Maybe," he admitted, and a line appeared between her eyebrows as her frustration rose. "But I think we'll figure it out."
She studied him a moment more before dropping his hands and stepping back. "I must report to the bridge."
He ached to reach for her again. "We'll talk later, though? You'll help me understand?"
Hesitating, she looked toward the door. "When we are next off-duty on the same shift."
"It's a date," he said dryly, and she raised a sardonic eyebrow at him before turning and heading for the bridge.
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Their talk never came.
Trip spent the next two days trying and failing to grapple with his new normal. His equilibrium was back, his vital signs, regularly checked by Phlox, were as good as could be.
"Better than normal, actually," Phlox had said in sickbay this morning.
"Really?"
Phlox gestured at the screen which showed his last several scans overlaid on top of each other. The ones from before she let him back in were erratic, unstable. The last two—rock steady.
"You're running at peak performance, Commander," Phlox said cheerfully, turning off the monitors. "I believe you could run a marathon right now and find it exhilarating."
Trip scoffed at that but quirked a half-smile. "Runnin's never been my thing, Doc."
"Well, whatever physical activity you choose to engage in right now, your stamina is likely to be in the 100th percentile."
Trip laughed at that. "I'll keep you posted."
"Please do," Phlox said seriously. "Your connection with Commander T'Pol is fascinating. I am quite interested in the physiological effects."
With that, Phlox had sent Trip on his way.
And still, despite the peak physical condition, Trip felt lost.
Yes, he felt good physically. He even felt pretty good mentally and emotionally. But there was something missing.
He felt unfinished.
Once he'd thought of that word, it stuck. He kept returning to it, turning it over in his mind. The longer he spent away from T'Pol, that feeling of incompletion built inside him.
Trip also kept returning to that half-finished conversation about skin-to-skin contact. It had been alarming yet thrilling, the idea of somehow needing a physical connection to her, not just wanting it. The more he turned the idea over, the more he craved it. Trip felt like a solar battery half-full, pulling energy from ambient light rather than a full-force exposure to the sun.
But right now, there was nothing he could do about it.
In the last two days, he and T'Pol had spent almost no time in physical proximity. They couldn't. The situation with the Xindi was picking up pace almost faster than they could keep up with it. First they'd fought the Kovaalans and slipped through the subspace corridor successfully. They'd lost the other Enterprise, lost Lorian, and Trip didn't even have time to mourn.
Now, Captain Archer was en route to the Xindi Council with Hoshi, and Trip was here in the launch bay with T'Pol, Reed, Mayweather and Hawkins, who would be infiltrating the nearby sphere to retrieve data from its computer core.
Trip's frustration was mounting. "You shouldn't be the one goin'."
T'Pol didn't pause in her work. "So you've said."
He followed her as she moved to continue checking the equipment they would be taking. "It should be me. You're acting captain. You're needed here."
She finally stopped, looking at him in disbelief. "You have the training to infiltrate an alien computer core?"
He glared at her. "You can tell me how."
"Your fear is making you irrational."
He grabbed her elbow. "Damn it, T'Pol! It's too dangerous!"
She stilled, carefully setting her Padd on the nearby stack of equipment. Turning fully to face him, she stepped closer.
Before he could process her actions, T'Pol's hands were up, her palms on either side of his neck, her thumbs gently pressing against his jaw. She tilted his head down until their foreheads touched.
"Close your eyes," she said softly.
"Malcolm and Travis—"
"They are not here," she said calmly. And he realized with astonishment that they weren't. He'd been so focused on her that he hadn't noticed when they'd left.
"Close your eyes," she said gently.
Trip let the tension fall from his shoulders, took a deep breath, and did as she asked.
"Put your hands on me."
Trip's eyes flew open. "W-what?"
"Like mine are on you. Do as I am doing."
Trip took in a shuddered breath again and raised his big hands, settling them around the back of her neck.
Instantly, it was like a circuit had been closed, electricity now sparking along its path. Her presence in his mind was intense, fully realized, and Trip drank her in, desperate for the warmth.
Focus, she said in his mind, and see me.
A cloud of light enveloped his mind. He was surrounded by her—her confidence, her ability, and her absolute certainty that she was the right person for this job. She wasn't just telling him she would be successful—she was making him feel it. Internalize it. Believe it.
The cloud receded and Trip opened his eyes.
T'Pol eyes were bright.
"Our bond right now is weak," she admitted. "True mating bonds must be strengthened via physical contact. We have not had time to explore the most efficient way to do that."
"We have barely had time to sleep," Trip said dryly, his mouth stretching in a tired smile. "I get that our relationship isn't first priority."
She sighed and stepped back, dropping her hands from him slowly, reluctance obvious.
"It is possible I miscalculated," she said after a moment.
"What do you mean?"
"I thought that reinitiating our telepathic bond would be enough to stabilize us both. At least until this current crisis is over."
"But it's not," he concluded matter-of-factly.
"It is not," she agreed. "I don't know how well you've been able to sense me in the last forty-eight hours, but my withdrawal symptoms had all but dissipated when I reconnected with you. In the last twenty-four, they've returned."
Trip thought back to this last shift. Nearly twelve hours ago they'd planned this mission—he, Malcolm, Mayweather, Corporal Hawkins, and T'Pol—and Trip had felt at the time like it was a good plan. But since that meeting, his agitation had grown, more with each passing hour. Mild concern had become anxiety and then fear, and he'd found himself here in the launchbay, arguing against what he knew needed to be done.
"I have felt different," Trip admitted. "But I thought that was just my problem."
Her jaw tightened, and T'pol folded her arms in front of herself. It made her seem smaller, more vulnerable.
"I think your increased agitation is my fault."
Trip raised his eyebrows. "I find that hard to believe. If I've learned anything in the last few months, I'm a pretty emotional guy."
"I believe these emotions are not wholly your own."
"Oh." Trip thought back to the nightmare he'd had a few weeks ago and how his own fear, grief, and anxiety had pushed onto T'Pol, sending her into an emotional meltdown on her shower floor.
T'Pol nodded. "Exactly," she said, and Trip realized with a start that she had literally read his mind. "I have been trying to purge my negative emotions. I have had fear, anxiety, heightened concern at this away mission."
"For a human, that would be understandable."
"Precisely. With my previous emotional control, it would be uncharacteristic of me to entertain illogical emotions before a dangerous mission. But now—"
"You do that all the time."
"Unfortunately, yes. It has become a familiar pattern."
"I'm sorry, T'Pol," Trip said, resting his hand on her arm and stepping closer.
She shrugged, and he let his hand fall. "It is something I must compensate for. However, in this case—I think my attempts to suppress or purge these emotions had an unintended effect."
He understood what she was getting at. "You pushed them to me."
"I believe so, yes. With our bond so open, what I thought was a purge was instead a relocation."
"So I'm not actually afraid for you?"
She studied him. "I think you are. Does it seem unnatural to feel that way?"
"No," he admitted. "It's just a bit more intense, I guess."
"You have coping mechanisms in place for your emotions. They seem to work well for you. You are, as you say, an emotional person. But you are not unbalanced or erratic. You cope well with strong emotions, rebalancing yourself quickly."
"Thanks," Trip said, his mouth tilted up in a smile. "Can't say I ever thought I'd get a compliment from you about my emotions."
She quirked an annoyed eyebrow at him. "Stating the obvious is not a compliment."
"If you say so, darlin'," he drawled, grinning.
"Still," she said, her voice more toneless than usual, "I believe I disrupted your usual formula for emotional calm. You could not account for my additional emotions, which left you off-balance."
Trip nodded and let the silence fall. He stared at her a long moment before resettling one of his hands where it had been moments before, against the side of her neck, his fingers nestled against the vertebrae at her nape, his thumb sweeping the soft skin of her jaw.
"And this?" he asked quietly. "What was it for?"
Placing her hand on the back of his, she slid her eyes shut.
"Reconnection," she whispered.
He stepped closer and leaned his forehead against hers.
"I like it," he admitted, voice hoarse.
She let out a sound that was half-sigh, half agreement, and curled her hand around his neck again too. It was half-strength to what they'd had earlier, but the hum of energy was there, spinning between them.
Trip had no idea how much time went by. It seemed suspended as they stood there, the warmth between them pulsing, the feeling of near-completion heady and provocative. He basked in it. It felt like they were cradling each other in the arms of their minds, separate beings but conjoined into one symbiotic whole.
They broke apart when the hatch opened, signaling Reed and Mayweather's return, and stood a professional distance apart.
"When I return—" T'Pol began, then stopped.
"When you return," he echoed, and it was a promise. To pick up where they'd left off. To reconnect.
A real beginning.
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Several hours later, Trip paused and rubbed his eyes, the data in front of him starting to waver in his vision. He yawned and stretched. He doubted it would help-tension sat seemingly permanently coiled in his shoulders.
The last several hours had been a whirlwind. While T'Pol and the away team had been on the sphere, Archer had been at the Xindi council with Hoshi. Things had not gone well. The aquatics seemed inclined in their direction, but the reptilians—they would not be swayed. Before they could process the magnitude of the crumbling council, Hoshi was gone—abducted by the reptilians—and the Captain was frantically trying to work with the remaining Xindi factions to retrieve her and destroy the weapon, now hurtling toward Earth.
Trip, T'Pol, and the rest of the Enterprise crew had been tasked to pick up the pieces. Their mission: use the data from the sphere to find a way to disable them all.
"Have you completed 27-A?"
T'Pol was referring to the segment of the drive they'd recovered. They were picking through it, segment by segment, attempting to find the data they needed.
"Yeah, just about. It's not all that helpful. Schematics on those auto-defense weapons you discovered."
She nodded, the lines of her shoulders as stiff as his.
So far, they'd only discovered that the spheres were connected by a subspace energy grid. They knew that four of the spheres were vital to that connection. The one they were closest to—sphere 41—seemed to be the key.
But they needed more data to find out how to disable or destroy it, and the others along with it. The last four hours had been spent here in the command center, combing through millions of bytes of data, trying to find what they needed. The proverbial needle in a haystack.
"I have been reexamining the metadata from section 25-C." She pulled up a file onto the screen, a series of symbols that seemed indecipherable to Trip even with his trained eye. "I believe this could be a command sub-routine."
Trip gave a dry laugh. "Yeah, I guess," he said. "Or it could be my mama's Thanksgivin' grocery list."
T'Pol gave him a look that was dangerously close to a glare, but didn't comment.
They went back to work, and Trip closed 27-A and opened 27-B. Several minutes later, while he waited for files to be extracted, his frustration at this project surged.
"I wouldn't mind having Hoshi here right now," he said wistfully.
"She is not here," T'Pol said shortly. "This is our responsibility. We'll have to do our best without her."
"I just hope she's okay," Trip said quietly. Their small communications officer had acquired some toughness over the length of their mission, but she was still the least experienced in combat situations. Trip worried for her, and he knew Malcolm and Captain Archer did too.
"She is well-trained," T'Pol said. "But we cannot focus on what we cannot control."
Trip raised his eyebrows behind T'Pol's back. That line seemed directed at herself more than at him. He turned his focus inward—her frustration and anxiety were densely packed, barely leashed. She wasn't pushing anything toward him anymore—he knew she wanted to spare him.
But holding onto it all was eating at her.
Trip checked the progress on the data extraction: 50% remaining. He stood up and walked over to her, standing behind her and placing his hands on her shoulders.
"You okay?"
She backed up abruptly and shrugged, dislodging his hands. "I am fine." She paused. "We cannot allow Ensign Sato's situation to become a distraction. We have work to do."
Trip frowned. What was the right approach here? Push until she gave in to what she needed? Or let her continue to flounder until she came to him on her own?
The truth was they didn't have time for him to push her. Reluctantly, he returned to the data.
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As they slogged through the data, the fight raged on. Hoshi had been retrieved from the reptilians. The MACOs rescue mission had been a success, although a Pyrrhic one. They'd lost Corporal Hayes and several other MACOs in the process.
And now, faced with the dire situation and very few options, Captain Archer had gone himself to destroy the weapon, taking a barely conscious Hoshi with him to decrypt the security protocols.
If Trip and T'Pol couldn't destroy the spheres, the weapon would only be the first of many, even if Archer succeeded in destroying it.
After five hours of painstaking work, they had finally extracted enough data to begin floating possible solutions.
"We could use a deflector pulse," T'Pol suggested.
Trip looked at her skeptically. "Why?"
"It could disrupt the subspace links between the spheres."
He shook his head. "Not enough power."
She pressed her lips into a flat line. "Then we could acquire additional power. Tie the impulse reactors directly into the deflector array."
Trip laughed in disbelief. "You tryin' to blow us up? That would fry every EPS conduit on the ship."
T'Pol's eyes narrowed, and Trip backed up a step reflexively. He quickly examined their connection. She was frustrated, about to explode.
"T'Pol—" he started, trying to head her off, but she ignored him.
"We have a very clear mission, Commander," she said, steely authority in her voice. "We must keep the captain's promise to the aquatics. We must disable these spheres."
"You pullin' rank on me?"
"I should not have to," she said disdainfully. "You should know your responsibility."
Trip's patience snapped. "I damn well know my responsibility here. I'm the only one here tryin' not to make the captain a liar."
She raised an eyebrow, disdain written in the arch. "Really?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I have given at least 5 viable proposals. You have dismissed all of them."
"Viable?" he scoffed. "Some proposals. Every damn one of 'em involves destroying Enterprise."
"That is inaccurate."
He shrugged. "If you come up with somethin' workable, I'll get a little more excited about it."
She narrowed her eyes at him. "You could surprise me."
"Come again?"
"With an idea of your own. You seem perfectly content to discard all of mine, yet you have no ingenuity yourself."
Trip took a deep breath and stood straight. He closed the distance between them and looked down at her. He tried his best to let his anger fade away.
Hers didn't. If anything, it was steam under pressure, desperately needing a release.
"This isn't workin', darlin'."
Her glare was her only answer.
He gripped her upper arms, slowly enough that she could stop him if she wanted to. She didn't.
"You're tryin' to spare me, aren't you? You can't purge your negative emotions 'cause they'll push onto me. So you're keepin' 'em in. Tryin' to suppress 'em."
Her eyes suddenly shone brighter, frustrated tears welling.
"Let me help you. Please."
"I cannot," she whispered. "One of us needs to be stable."
"We both can be."
"We can't," she said, her voice cracking. "I can only think of two ways to fully purge these emotions. And neither of them will work, not now."
"Try me," he said, pulling her close, settling her head on his chest.
She took a deep breath. "Sexual connection would be the most effective," she said abruptly, and Trip froze.
"Ah, okay. And I guess a quickie won't get the job done? I can make time for that."
She pulled back until she was looking at him again. She gave him her Vulcan version of rolling her eyes—a quick eyebrow raise and look at his forehead.
"No," she said flatly. "If we had been intimate regularly prior to this, a short encounter might be sufficient. But we have not."
"It's kinda built up, huh?" he said. "We need more time to purge the emotion."
"Precisely. The next time will be—" she paused, searching for the right word. "Prolonged."
Trip couldn't help it—he laughed. "Jeez, T'Pol. You have a way of making those sterile words of yours pretty damn hot."
She shot him a look then that was so full of frustration and pent-up anguish that Trip immediately felt sorry for his lightheartedness.
"I'm sorry," he said, giving her a reassuring pat on the back. "I'll be serious. You mentioned two ways? What's the other one? Why won't that work?"
She looked down. "The only other method is for me to release my emotion to you. Like I did before in sickbay, and again in the launchbay."
"That wasn't so bad."
"Those were positive emotions."
"Oh," he said, seeing her point. "But didn't you say I'm better at diffusing them than you are?"
"Yes, I did."
"Do you have to send 'em to me all at once?"
She looked thoughtful. "I suppose not. I could try—perhaps gradually—"
"I have a theory," he said abruptly. "I think if I know it's comin' from you, I can handle it. I can get rid of it. Maybe we can try it?"
"I am not certain—"
"I am." He stood back, gripping her hands. "Let's try it."
She took a deep breath, trying to center herself. "Very well."
She reached up, placing her fingers on his face: jaw, cheekbone, and temple.
Trip pulled back. "This is different."
"It is," she admitted. "Touch telepathy can work with any points of contact, but this method of connection is the strongest."
"Why haven't we done this before?"
"It is very intimate."
"Okay, then," Trip whispered, and she re-positioned her fingers. He mimicked her, placing his fingers on her face as well.
Instantly, the connection was wide open.
Prepare yourself.
Her voice echoed in his mind, and Trip took a deep, centering breath.
Oh, God. What if they failed? What if this didn't work? T'Pol was going to suffer from these emotions, they would affect her—she wouldn't be at her best. And he couldn't do this without her. The spheres—they were beyond his ability to fully understand alone. They would take over the quadrant. They would destroy Earth. It would all have been for nothing—
Trip stopped.
This spiral—it wasn't him. It was her. Her frustration. Her anxiety. Her emotion. He breathed again. Steady. Deep. He concentrated on the positive. They had the data. They were deciphering it. They were over halfway there. They could do this.
The anxiety lessened.
Still, Captain Archer was on the weapon—Oh, God, the weapon—hurtling toward Earth, ready to kill billions of people. They'd already lost millions. His sister—damn it, now his whole family would be gone if that weapon got there. And Hoshi was there with the captain, trying to save Earth—they had no shot, did they? Not against those damn reptilians—they were too crafty—
Not his emotion.
Not all of it. Mostly hers. He could do this. He could shoulder it for her. He could pull it from her. He could help her.
Trip concentrated on that feeling, grabbing the tail end of the anxiety she was slowly siphoning toward him. He imagined himself grasping it, pulling it like yarn, balling it up, feeling it, absorbing it, and letting it go. He pulled, and pulled, and pulled, bending it, stretching it, transforming it, until the yarn ran out, until there was nothing left but bits and fragments floating around them.
He looked for her. She was there, her bright energy hovering in front of him, and Trip surged toward her, wrapping her energy up in his, filling her with all of his confidence, all of his certainty, all of his hope. The optimism he'd trained himself to focus on was strong, ingrained. He used it, funneled it, and infused it into her until they were one again. Balanced.
Whole.
Trip breathed deeply and realized with astonishment that T'Pol had breathed deeply too, in perfect sync with him.
He opened his eyes and so did she. Hers were soft. Exhaustion radiated from her, but her eyes were pools of relief and gratitude.
Trip slid his fingers down until they brushed away a lone tear that had slid down her cheek. She blinked, surprised.
"Better?" he said, voice hoarse.
"Yes," she said. "I did not believe it would work."
"Maybe it won't every time," Trip conceded. He stepped back, breaking their connection. "You ready to take another crack at this?"
T'Pol straightened her shoulders and inclined her head in agreement.
"I still think using a deflector pulse is worth exploring."
Trip chuckled. "All right, all right. I'll try to figure out how we can get some more power without sacrificin' everything else."
"I would appreciate that," she said dryly, and Trip grinned at her back as she returned to her work.
.
.
It turned out that her idea was plausible after all. It took some ingenuity—Trip had had to do some creative rerouting to ensure that the EPS conduits would sustain the least amount of damage—but the deflector pulse ultimately was their best option.
Trip was in engineering, making the final adjustments before they set their plan into motion.
"Report."
T'Pol's voice came from behind him, and Trip turned back to watch her. She looked tired. The emotions they'd purged a few hours ago were starting to be replaced by new ones. She was good for now—but she couldn't hold on like this for long.
Trip tried to suppress his worry for her and answered her order.
"We're just about done realigning the main power grid. You'll get about three or four times more power." He paused, running a hand along his jaw. "But I couldn't protect the EPS conduits much. Just about every system onboard is gonna fry."
T'Pol dismissed Trip's warning with a brief nod. "You have two hours until we initiate the pulse."
She turned to leave. Trip grabbed her arm, swinging her back to face him. "You get this, right? There is a pretty good chance the whole ship is going to come apart at the seams. We could be destroyin' Enterprise, too."
She pulled her arm away from him. "We have no choice. Have you thought about what will happen if Captain Archer and Ensign Sato fail?"
"Of course."
"Then you know—if Earth is destroyed, Enterprise is the only humanity left. And without humanity—we can't combat the sphere builders. They will destroy everything with their expanse. Including Vulcan."
"I get it," Trip said grimly. "Earth isn't the only card on the table. Not anymore."
"Precisely." T'Pol searched his eyes for a few moments more, and Trip realized she desperately needed his support.
"We can do this," he said softly. "Together. We can do this."
She straightened. "Two hours."
"Yes, ma'am," he answered back, and T'Pol left engineering with a purposeful stride.
.
.
"Power has dropped 10%! What the hell is going on?"
Trip was on the bridge, Phlox, Mayweather, and T'Pol with him, as they were in the altered space around Sphere 41, doing their best to destroy it.
"There are alien lifeforms aboard," Phlox called out. "This space must be transformed enough to sustain them."
"Whatever the hell they're doing, we've gotta stop them," Trip said. "I can't get this done if they keep screwin' with the deflector pulse."
Phlox quickly commanded the MACOs to remodulate their weapons to fight off the transdimensional aliens.
A minute later, the interference lessened. Trip reengaged the pulse. "We're back in business."
"You have two minutes, Commander," Phlox called. "Any longer, and everyone onboard is going to start dying."
"If I could just—damn it!" Trip said, frantically trying to push more power to the deflector pulse. They were almost there.
Trip's anxiety was building, pushing over, breaking his concentration. T'Pol was suddenly beside him, near enough to touch him, but she didn't.
"Breathe," she whispered.
He tried, he really did. Maybe it was carryover from taking on her emotions a few hours ago, but he didn't have his usual tough-as-nails mentality in this high-stress situation. The responsibility of the moment, the need to fix this—the sheer weight of the world on his shoulders—it was pressing down on him.
Take what you need from me.
It came into his mind, her voice, and he knew what she meant. For mere seconds, he closed his eyes and saw her. Her confidence in him was there, pulsing. He latched onto it, pulling it into himself until the frantic emotions fled. He opened his eyes.
"That's it! We need to leave. Now!" Phlox's shout echoed behind him, but this time, Trip wasn't fazed.
"Ten seconds, doc!"
He looked through the viewfinder and set up the target, sending every last surge of power he could into the deflector pulse.
"Like shootin' fish in a barrel," he said triumphantly. They watched in amazement as Sphere 41 began crumpling in on itself, imploding.
"Get us out of here, Mr. Mayweather," T'Pol ordered, and Travis kicked the thrusters into high gear.
"The altered space is dissipating," Phlox said victoriously.
In seconds, they were back in normal space, watching as Sphere 41 imploded, sending a beam of energy out.
"Where is that going?"
Trip quickly consulted his readings. "Sphere 40. It's a chain reaction! It's destroying the whole grid!"
A cheer went up across the bridge, and Trip couldn't stop the grin that spread across his face. T'Pol was still standing beside him, and he slipped closer, bumping her arm with his. He noticed the science station was effectively blocking them from the rest of the crew, and none of them were paying attention anyway. They were all hugging and high-fiving, elated that they'd vanquished this enemy.
He seized the opportunity, grabbing her hand and squeezing tightly.
"Thanks, darlin'," he said softly. "I needed you right then."
Her eyes softened. "We are a team."
"We are, aren't we?" Trip said, marveling at the idea. He paused, turning all his concentration inward, and said as clearly as possible inside his mind, I really want to kiss you right now.
T'Pol's hand jerked in his. She looked at him in astonishment.
He grinned back and shrugged. You started it.
This is unprofessional.
Nobody can hear us. Besides, so is this, Trip shot back, squeezing her hand.
She quickly let go.
Trip couldn't help it—he grinned at her.
"Congratulations, Commander," he said out loud. "I think I owe you a drink."
.
.
A/N: Thank you to everyone who has continued giving reviews even though it's been a very long time since I updated. I had the entire chapter written—almost the whole story, in fact, when my computer decided to die. In the transfer to the new one, I lost everything I'd added since the last chapter. :( I feel like I've rewritten this chapter about seven times, and version 3—the one I lost—was the one I liked best. Sad…but it wasn't meant to be. I hope this version was satisfactory. I feel a little off my game.
This chapter was intended to cover more territory, but it got a little too long for my original plans. I think now we'll be at two more chapters and to the end. Thanks again for reading and reviewing—you are fantastic! :)