Trigger warning: T'Pol and Trip discuss the attack by Tolaris. Touches on issues of consent and sexual assault.

This Chapter occurs after the events of the episode "Carpenter Street"

Chapter 4: Vulcans do not dream

"So, how did you find Earth in 2004?" Trip asked T'Pol as she manipulated the neural nodes between his shoulders. They had resumed their regular neuro-pressure sessions a week earlier, the day after Trip had found her with the trellium. He had felt awkward at first but he persisted, partly because it really did help him sleep, but mainly because Phlox seemed to think it would benefit her too.

"I am not certain how we found it, we simply walked through the Command Centre door and it was there." T'Pol responded with complete sincerity.

Trip gave a huff of laughter at her literal interpretation of his question. "It's a figure of speech, I'm not asking how you literally "found" Earth, I'm asking what you thought of it." He explained

"That is illogical. Why would you ask how I located it, if you actually wanted to hear my opinions of it?"

"I don't know, T'Pol, it's just an expression." Trip couldn't help but grin to himself, he loved it when he baffled her with the strange vagaries of the English language. It brought out an evil streak in him that was about a mile wide. "Anyway, after you found it, what did you think of it?"

T'Pol, fully aware that Trip took wicked pleasure in confounding her with his use of the vernacular, continued calmly down to next point on his back as she answered. "It was taxing on my senses."

"Taxing?" He also loved that her impressions were so unexpected.

"Yes, the odour was unpleasant and bordered on overwhelming, and the noise was constant, there was barely a quiet moment for the entire time we were there; and it was cold and wet."

"The odour, huh? I guess all those primitive, unwashed humans were a bit hard on your refined, Vulcan nose."

"I did not have contact with a sufficient number of the residents of early 21st century Detroit to determine their general level of cleanliness, although the individual we primarily interacted with did not seem to prioritise hygiene. However, it was the environment itself that I found to be squalid. The use of petrochemical fuelled, combustion engines contributed greatly to the odour, the filth and the noise."

"Yeah, well Detroit was pretty much the US capital of petrochemical fuelled, combustion engines and they were pretty polluting. So I guess you didn't like it much?"

"I neither liked, nor disliked it. Many aspects of the environment were physically unpleasant but I was able tolerate it. She lifted her hands off his back as she answered.

"Sit up, and face me." She instructed.

As he turned to face her he noticed her hands shaking slightly. Once, before had had caught her in the cargo bay, he would have pretended he hadn't seen it, knowing it would have been a gross invasion of her privacy to highlight any possible weakness in her. But now he felt like he had to be hyper-vigilant with her, just in case. He didn't want to miss any signs that she was about to turn into an emotional wreak with a handful of trellium.

"What's wrong with your hands?" He asked baldly. "Why are they shaking?"

T'Pol stared at him wide eyed and resisted the urge to hide her hands behind her back. The polluted environment of 21st Century Detroit had been far more demanding than she had let on to Trip, but she had not expected it to trigger her Pa'nar symptoms. She resolved to see Phlox first thing in the morning.

"I am sure it is just a delayed reaction to the time travel. I will see Phlox in the morning." She prevaricated.

Trip narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips thoughtfully. He had spent enough time around her to know that he had to be finely tuned to her voice and micro expressions. He sensed some ambiguity in her statement and decided to push her further. "The Captain's time travelled before, I've never seen his hands shaking afterwards."

"The Captain is human, I am Vulcan. There is no reason to believe our physiological response would be the same." T'Pol suppressed a surge of annoyance. Usually he would not persist in questioning her on private matters.

"Surely Daniels would have warned us if there was some kind of negative effect on Vulcans." He countered.

"Not necessarily, if the reaction is temporary and not of a serious nature he may have deemed it unnecessary or irrelevant."

"T'Pol," Trip put his hands on his hips, "I can tell you are not giving me the who story here. I think you know exactly what's wrong with you and I not leaving until you tell me."

"Then I suggest you get comfortable, Commander, you will be here for a while."

The Commander Tucker of a month ago would have backed down immediately. But there had been a subtle power shift since he had discovered her trellium use and comforted her through her emotional breakdown. He no longer believed in her total emotional infallibility and, now that he knew the neuro-pressure sessions were as important to her well being as they were to him, he also felt that he had a personal interest in her health. He had started to trust his instincts about her and his instincts were screaming at him there was more than she was letting on. Trip was about to make an emotional appeal when it occurred to him that was pointless because it would mean nothing to her. He had to attempt to appeal to her logic, hopefully without using the word "logic" or any of its derivatives, because he really hated it when she used the word on him.

"Look, I hate invading your privacy but I need you to tell me what's wrong because, as I understand it, you need these neuro-pressure sessions as much as I do, which I figure gives me a stake in your health. I want to trust you, but I took a risk not going to the Captain with the trellium use, I need to be certain that this," he gestured to her hands, "is not related to that." he waved a hand in the direction of the cargo bay and its trellium.

T'Pol saw through his weak attempt immediately. She knew there was no logical reason for him to be informed of her condition. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She found it difficult to suppress the shame associated with her illness, even though she knew it was illogical. She could not shake the thought that Trip would think less of her if he knew of the circumstances surrounding her contracting of the disease. It was disquieting how much she craved his good opinion. She caught the direction of her thoughts and realised she was letting fear drive her decisions. She remembered how much relief she had felt after he discovered her with the trellium and she cried in his arms. Perhaps if she gave him this as well she could finally manage these rogue emotions. She made her choice and looked him in the eyes.

"Do you remember the V'tosh ka'tur, the Vulcans without logic, we encountered 2 years ago?" She asked.

"The smiling Vulcans, they made quite an impression. I got on pretty well with their engineer, Kov." Trip looked at her intently his memory filling in the blanks. "Wait a minute, you spent some time in Sick Bay about the time that they left. Did you catch some Vulcan illness off them?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes."

It was unlike her to use imprecise language. "In a manner of speaking? What's that supposed to mean?

"There was one individual, with whom I primarily interacted, who appealed to my curiosity about emotions. For a Vulcan, my emotions have always been close to the surface and keeping them suppressed has required more discipline than the average. This individual suggested I experiment with relaxing my discipline to see how it affected me. He initially suggested I forgo my meditation before retiring to bed. I followed his advice and experienced vivid, disturbing dreams - something most Vulcans would not experience."

"Are you saying Vulcans don't have nightmares." Trip interrupted again.

"Vulcans do not dream at all, Commander."

"At all!" He looked at her wide eyed. "Maybe I should start meditating." He muttered under his breath.

"That thought has occurred to me on many occasions." She told him having he picked up his muttered comment without difficulty. "I am sure you would experience greater emotional equilibrium if you were practised in the art. I would be quite willing to instruct you if you are interested."

"Um, yeah, maybe." He replied noncommittally. "So did dreaming make you sick?" He asked, diverting the conversation away from him and his emotions.

She took a deep breath to steady herself. "No, after the dream he was interested in my experience. He suggested something, a way to deepen the experience."

A mysterious disease caught from someone offering a deep experience. Trip had a very sick feeling about where this was heading when T'Pol threw something from left field.

"I am not sure if you are aware that Vulcans are touch telepaths." T'Pol said uncertain how much he knew about Vulcan mental abilities.

"Wait a minute," he interrupted "you can read my mind when you touch me." Trip could feel a blush rising in his face. He was fully aware that, on many occasions during neuro-pressure, his thoughts about her had wandered in a less than pure direction.

"There are some, more talented telepaths than me, who can read thoughts. I, personally, am only able to sense emotions." T'Pol assured him

Trip wasn't sure if that was any better and T'Pol detected his unease immediately.

"As part of our mental discipline Vulcans are taught methods to block thoughts and emotions we may pick up from touch." She assured him. "It is generally considered invasive, and a breach of privacy not to block the psychic emanations of a person who is unrelated to you. This is the reason Vulcans avoid touching others. We do not wish to inadvertently pick up thoughts or feelings we are not entitled to, which is much more likely to occur from casual touch."

"Okay." Trip wasn't sure that it was okay but he didn't want to take her too far off topic. "But what does this have to do with the V'tosh guy."

"There is a method called a mind meld, able to be performed by some Vulcans, in which two people can, through a specific kind of contact, join minds and share thoughts completely. It is considered a deviant practise on Vulcan. Known melders are ostracised from society."

"And he suggested you try it." Trip accurately concluded.

"Yes. It was foolish of me. I allowed my curiosity to influence my decisions.

"Curiosity isn't a bad thing. Surely curiosity makes you a better scientist." Trip looked at her sympathetically. "I take it the meld didn't go well?"

T'Pol held his gaze using all her Vulcan discipline to keep her emotions suppressed. "It did not." She confirmed. "After he began the meld, I quickly became uncomfortable with the procedure and requested he cease immediately. He refused and deepened the meld against my will. It was extremely painful and invasive. A violent psychic intrusion can be quite damaging. I was forced to fight him off, abruptly severing the meld and causing myself further neural injury."

Trip looked at her aghast. When she talked about a "deepened experience" he had immediately assumed sex, and based on her demeanour that some kind of sexual assault had ultimately taken place. Somehow this seemed worse. He considered his own unease when he learned she could sense his emotions. He realised how much worse it would be to have someone forcibly enter your mind, every private thought and feeling laid bare, knowing they were there and having nowhere to hide. "So the shaking hands, that's a result of the damage you suffered?"

"No, Phlox was able to repair my neural injuries." She told him.

"Then what… why…" he indicated her hands not sure how to finish the sentence.

"Regrettably, during this contact he infected me with a disease called Pa'nar Syndrome, which is known to affect melders. It results in the degradation of the synaptic pathways and also affects the endocrine and immune systems. That is the cause of my hand tremors."

"Is there a cure?" He was looking at her with such intensity she found it difficult to return his gaze.

"There is no known cure. Dr Phlox has been very effective at devising treatments to prevent symptoms and slow the degeneration, but it is a terminal illness."

He felt a surge of grief. "You're going to die?" He whispered in horror.

T'Pol's Vulcan nature strained against the question. Of course she was going to die, every living organism dies. She tamped down on the instinct to reply as such. After two and half years amongst humans she had grown accustomed to their imprecise methods of speech. But, she realised, she was also influenced by the look on his face and emotion in his voice. She was somehow touched that he was so affected by the prospect of her death. "Given the current effectiveness of the Doctor's treatment I do not believe my death is imminent, however, I do anticipate my life expectancy has been reduced, it is not possible to determine by how much."

"Who was it? Who did this to you?" His grief had become anger.

T'Pol was always amazed at the ability of humans to transition through emotional states so rapidly. "It is irrelevant. We are not likely to see him or his ship again." She felt an illogical reluctance to speak his name, as if he was a mythical beast that could be summoned by naming him.

"Tolaris. It was Tolaris wasn't it?" The name came to him out of nowhere, he was surprised he could even remember the guy after two years. Her expression confirmed it.

T'Pol took a deep breath. Really, human instincts could be troubling. "As I said, it is irrelevant. I take responsibility for my actions that night. It was my decision to experiment with my emotions and I consented to the meld. This occurred because of decisions I made, I accept that.

The expression Trip gave her was unreadable. "T'Pol, this is not your fault." He told her gently.

He suddenly had a thought about something she had said earlier. "You said earlier your emotions are close to the surface, can other Vulcans see that, could he see that?"

"It is generally apparent to other Vulcans, he noted it early in our interactions."

"And I'm guessing that it's not something that's a highly valued character trait among Vulcans?"

"It is not." She confirmed.

"So he knew this was an aspect of your personality and he would have known it was something that troubled you. He manipulated you, he played to your vulnerabilities and most importantly when you asked him to stop he didn't. Once you withdrew your consent, he had no right to go on." Trip felt he could not emphasise this enough.

"This would not have happened if I had applied my logic and not given the initial consent. I am Vulcan, we do not have vulnerabilities."

"Kind of like you don't have emotions, except that you do." Trip looked at her sitting completely still with her hands resting in her lap. Once upon a time he would have assessed her as being cold and stoic. Now he knew her better he could see the emotions boiling beneath the surface and her struggle to contain them. He felt a crazy urge to comfort her. Had she been human he would have hugged her or put an arm around her. But she was Vulcan and he knew that would only make her more uncomfortable. Trip looked down at her hands. He still felt compelled to comfort her with touch somehow, so, against all reason, he reached out and took her hand. To his surprise she didn't flinch or pull away.

"You know every person who's ever been the victim of a crime could look back and say, I f hadn't done 'that', then 'this' would never have happened. When I was at the academy I got my PADD stolen. I was studying in a cafe and a friend came over and started talking to me. I was only distracted for five minutes but during that time someone walked past and lifted my PADD from the table and took it. No one ever blamed me or said it was my fault. Sure if I hadn't taken my attention off it, if I had held on to it while I talked, it would never have been taken."

He swallowed and looked away from her briefly "My parents could say if they hadn't moved to Florida when we were kids, that my sister would still be alive." He told her quietly.

"You know, we have a saying on Earth, 'hindsight is 20/20'. It's easy look back, knowing how things have turned out, and identify what you should have done to prevent it. But we can't look into the future and know exactly where your decisions are going lead. Sometimes we put our trust in the wrong people, sometimes the actions of strangers surprise us, sometimes we stick our hands in a box of pebbles and get pregnant." He gave the last example with a gentle smile.

T'Pol's eyes widened. She hadn't thought of the Zyrillians for a long time. She had never considered what happened to him in terms of consent. "I was very hard on you about your encounter with the Zyrillians and your resulting pregnancy." She admitted quietly.

"Yeah, you were. But in those days you didn't make mistakes. You've come a long way since then." He gave her hand a gentle squeeze to show he was teasing her.

T'Pol looked down at their joined hands and realised she had not put her mental barriers up. She was surprised by how soothing his emotions were. What he was feeling for her was like a balm, kindness, care, worry, but they were not overwhelming as she would have expected. They were such soft emotions, like being wrapped in a warm blanket. She was struck by the unexpected urge to crawl into his lap and let him hold her like a child. The tumultuous emotions brought on by her attack, that she had always struggled to control, had eased. It occurred to her that this was how humans processed their emotions, they felt them, analysed them, talked about them and then let them go. They were, she realised, lucky that way.

"Now," he said as he squeezed her hand again. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but it occurs to me that the reason Phlox was so keen to get the neuro-pressure sessions going again is because it helps with the Pa'nar."

"That is correct."

"Well, lie face down then and let's get started. I think, considering you spent several hours taking a whirlwind tour of the hot spots of Detroit, then came back and did a full shift, that you have literally had a very long day. Let's complete your neuro-pressure, you can get some sleep and then go see Phlox in the morning."

He let go of her hand as he spoke and she almost reached out and grabbed his hand back. A strange sensation overcame her, almost as if her mind was reaching out to him, seeking the emotional connection again. She mentally shook off the feeling and lay down so he could begin.

He was a natural practitioner of neuro-pressure. His ability to visualise a piece of equipment and mentally break it down to its constituent parts extended to organic bodies. She almost never had to guide him to a point twice and once he found the correct pressure was able to replicate it in subsequent sessions. As he worked down her back she relished in his ministrations feeling the release of tension and healing as he worked.

She thought back to his unconcealed discomfort when he learned of her telepathic skills. She knew that he had felt some embarrassment over the arousal he often experienced during their sessions. She had decided that it was prudent not to inform him that she had always been aware of it due to the pheromone component of human libido and her enhanced sense of smell. She had long ago concluded that she was considered an attractive female by human standards and, as such, Trip was not the only male on board, or female for that matter, who had displayed signs of attraction to her. She had sufficient knowledge of humans to know that arousal was a physiological response to stimuli that did not indicate an emotional attachment and, thus, had always ignored it.

By contrast to his raw desire, she reflected on the emotions she had sensed from him as he held her hand and, for the first time since she had begun the sessions with him, she dropped her psychic barriers and opened herself to him. All the feelings she had detected from him earlier, once again flowed into her through his fingers. She felt his concern, compassion, care, even quiet grief on her behalf, but also his affection and regard. Bathed in his gentle emotions and lulled to sleep by his firm hands, she couldn't help but wonder if this was what it felt like to be loved.