T'Phol stayed with McCoy most of the night, initially pressing him for details following his revelation. He insisted his interpretation was correct, although he could not explain how he knew, and could not tell her any details of the song itself beyond knowing it was ancient and about him. He could not recall any instant where he realized Piasa was in his mind presenting that information. She eventually relented, realizing his inability to articulate the details was real, and the vagueness surrounding Piasa's communication was as distressing for him as it was the others.
After that, they were quiet. T'Phol held him, sometimes smoothing his face or gently kneading his neck or shoulders. She sensed a great deal of anxiety at the forefront of his always active emotional psyche, coupled with frustration and urgency. She cleared her mind, trying to project a sense of calmness although she did not feel tranquil herself. Finally he slipped into an uneasy doze and her thoughts returned to Piasa.
She did not sing to Piasa to test his pitch or mimicry. Of course he had no problem in repeating the scales. He had already shown that ability in a more complicated form the previous day. She wondered if he would respond to someone other than McCoy. She was surprised when her inquiry tendril was turned aside, neatly, thoroughly, and without visible effort on his part. She was unsure if he had noticed her attempt, but he had moved very near her, pinning her with his red and gold gaze. It was difficult not to believe he was processing a lot of information during that intense regard. Those eyes gleamed with intelligence and consideration. She started to touch him, but could not bring herself to reach those final inches and make contact. She knew a combination of things stopped her. His majestic, aloof bearing was undeniable. She did not want to encroach upon his personal space, although he did not seem to mind Leonard touching him, and in fact had initiated contact.
Other reasons were both simpler and more complex. She closed her eyes as her musing involuntarily turned to introspection.
T'Phol had always been naturally reserved, automatically refraining from unnecessary physical contact with others. Her childhood years of being both isolated and on display had intensified her shyness and reluctance to engage. When she returned to Vulcan permanently, that innate tendency was magnified through training and reinforced by culture. Unlike Spock, she was not a strong touch telepath, indeed she had never initiated a meld on her own. Like her father, her telepathic ability manifested in a different direction. After discovering the Tap, she found she could also sense zherka tam'a, the emotional living essence. That was an unwelcome development, and she spent her hiatus years on Vulcan learning to harness the Tap and block and assuage the effect of the other.
When she felt ready to resume her career, she knew she would have to enter the new phase as an adult, able to handle her own affairs. She sought additional help, immersing herself into a different type of Human therapy designed to alleviate her social anxiety and allow her to function outside her grandparents' protected compound.
Over the years, what had once seemed insurmountable obstacles became common place. She employed an agent, but she was capable of negotiating her own contracts and making performance arrangements. She could look others in the eye, engage in small talk following concerts, and exchange niceties with strangers. She no longer flinched from unsolicited or accidental touches.
Aside from her grandparents and the contacts made necessary by her career, she lived a largely solitary life, both on Vulcan and Earth, feeling no real need to seek companionship, platonic or romantic. As a young, unbonded female from one of Vulcan's oldest , most prestigious and powerful clans, she was under considerable pressure to consider taking a bondmate. At Matriarch T'Pau's behest, she reluctantly met a few potential suitors, all of whom she quickly rejected. She also tried a few dates on her own, those primarily occurring while she was on Earth and away from T'Pau's critical oversight. One of those independent ventures had resulted in a short -lived sexual relationship. Although unsatisfying, it was also liberating, proving such intimate contact was possible. Even so, she had not been drawn to try again.
Until Leonard. His zherka tam'a called to her from the beginning. His expressive, warm humanity, mingled with brilliant intelligence, passion, and a turbulent mix of emotion just underneath the surface, was at once comforting and unsettling. That dichotomy was a siren call she was unable to resist, a specific and unequivocal peril unwittingly aimed at her. Eros's arrow, she thought wryly, filled with southern charm, but loaded with the potential to strew desolation in its wake. She had willingly stepped into its path, indeed, she had forged the way, deeming the reward was worth the risk. He was the first person she had ever wanted to hold, his the only touch she invited and welcomed without reservation.
She did not welcome the touch from a formidable telepath. She hoped it would not become necessary to attempt such a contact.
T'Phol opened her eyes to find him awake, quietly watching her.
"I'd offer you a penny for your thoughts," he said softly, "but I'm not sure I want to know." He traced her jawline with his thumb. "You looked pensive, deep."
"I did not mean to worry you. I was thinking about the past, and my life on Vulcan." She sighed. "And Piasa."
"Any fresh insight?"
"About Piasa? No."
McCoy's lips curved in a smile. "I won't ask you about the other."
T'Phol reached for his hand, pressing it against her cheek. She searched his face, uncertain what either of them needed to say or hear. They lay in silence for another minute before McCoy sat up, reaching for his t-shirt and pants. T'Phol watched as he pulled on his clothes and went to the window, looking out into the darkness. She slipped from under the covers and into her pajamas, joining him at the window. Outside it was quiet, the compound lights forming circles of illumination on the ground and walls. Nothing moved within those spheres. McCoy stared unseeing into the darkness. He didn't respond when she laid her hand on his arm. She could sense his growing desperation amid the whirl of emotion, and underneath that, firm resolve. She whispered his name and he turned to her, burying his face in her hair. He somehow felt fragile, she held him carefully, mindful of his thinness. She was reluctant to let go when he finally straightened and pulled back. She leaned down for a kiss before dropping her hands from his arms and releasing him.
"I'll go now," she said. "Command decorum will be preserved."
She hoped to provoke a chuckle from him, but he simply nodded, casting a glance toward the window.. T'Phol's eyes followed his, but the view remained empty.
"Is Piasa coming tonight?"
McCoy's eyes flashed with momentary heat, swiftly quelled. He shrugged. "I don't know. I don't think so." He turned to look at her with a hint of wariness she had not seen directed at her before. "I really don't know," he repeated.
"I believe you." She paused. "Tomorrow, will you promise to stay inside, at least until we return?"
"I already told Giotto that I would."
"Tell me. I need to hear it directly from you."
He stepped close again, looking up into her eyes. "I will not go out looking for Piasa tomorrow. I'll finish the physicals and paperwork, and go take a nap." He tilted his head. "Satisfied?"
"Yes. Thank you. Do not be angry."
McCoy sighed. "I am not angry. I do get tired of feeling overprotected. Chapel does it, Jim. Even Spock. I'm a grown man, I don't have to be mollycoddled."
"They understand the quality of the spirit residing within you. Their care is justified and understandable."
McCoy shook his head. "I don't know about all that. But you have my word. And I'll seal it with a kiss." He leaned up so their lips met.
They parted and T'Phol left, closing the door silently behind her. A small movement caught her eye. Chapel was curled in a chair with her blanket and a cup. T'Phol paused and she waved her over. She approached and took a seat on the edge of a chair. Chapel's demeanor seemed a little cool, but not unfriendly. She took a sip of her tea before speaking.
"I see I'm not the only one who couldn't sleep."
T'Phol looked down. "I suppose not."
Chapel regarded her steadily. "Is he all right?"
T'Phol hesitated a moment. "I do not know," she finally admitted.
"Thank you for the truth. I know they say Vulcans can't lie..." She stirred her tea, leaning forward. "I am worried about him. He resents it."
"I do not believe he resents your concern."
"He thinks I'm prying."
"He thinks you do not believe him."
Chapel smiled grimly. "I don't." She waved her hand at T'Phol's protest. "Oh, I know he's telling some of the story. I am not saying he's lying." She looked at T'Phol speculatively, as if gauging how much she would listen. "I've worked closely with him for almost five years. I know him," she continued. "I don't know what he's told you in addition to what he's told us all, if anything. I know he's hiding something. Maybe it's nothing important. Probably it is. It wouldn't surprise me if he thinks he's protecting us or himself by keeping silent. I am loath to leave him tomorrow. He'll be out looking for Piasa as soon as we're out of sight."
"He has assured both Chief Giotto and myself he will stay in tomorrow, at least until our return."
"Oh?" Chapel looked surprised. "You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that. If he said he'll stay in, then he will. He is a man of his word."
T'Phol nodded. "Yes. Is that all?" She rose from her seat, uneasy with the conversation. Chapel stood as well, not as tall as the Vulcan, but statuesque in her Human way. The two locked gazes for a bit, not in hostility, it was more of a measurement taking. T'Phol was not sure where she fell on Chapel's scale, but the nurse's stance softened.
"I know we both care about him," Chapel said softly. I want to make sure you realize that, too. I am not your enemy, nor am I his."
"Of course. This is difficult for him, but I am sure he has not forgotten where loyalty lies. Good night."
"Good morning is more like it."
T'Phol nodded and went to her room, closing her door. Chapel finished her tea and went to look out the window. Outside looked cold and uninviting as she imagined Amintian creatures waiting with their strange eyes and unknown motivations. She lost track of how long she stood staring into the dark when she heard someone softly approach, Without turning she knew it was McCoy. He stood beside her without speaking as they both looked into the empty night. After a moment, she turned to face him.
"T'Phol told me you promised to stay in tomorrow while we're gone."
"That's right." He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms in a posture Chapel always thought of as his defensive slouch.
"That helps me feel better about leaving you alone."
"I'm not a child," he said, bleakness robbing his tone of the snap he intended.
"I know."
"I can't give up on Piasa."
Chapel sighed. "I know that, too."
He looked down. "When our time on Aminta is up, I plan on reporting to M'Benga as unfit for duty. But I need this time to do what I can. Will you give it to me?"
Chapel was startled. "Unfit...Oh, Leonard." She blinked back tears.
He addressed the floor. "If you feel my patient work is compromised, you are at liberty to report that now.
She swallowed hard. "That won't be necessary."
He nodded. "Thank you. You'd better get some sleep, y'all have an early morning coming up." He turned toward his room.
"Leonard," Chapel called after him. He stopped but didn't turn around. "I'm...Sorry. You'll be fine."
He continued into his room without answering. Chapel held her tears until his door closed and she was alone.
