T'pol's Perspective:
The irony that she, a Vulcan, was utilizing the control of a human, did not escape her. However the necessity, as such, was great enough to warrant invading the Captain's mind.
And as she completed the words of this ancient rite, as two minds became one, the life forces of both intertwined.
The raging storm that was her mind calmed not in the slightest, and as the swirling tides threatened to immerse her in their mighty grasp, as the roiling sky thundered and lighting split the sky, and the last patch of dry sand she stood upon. She remembered she wasn't alone.
The visualization of chaos that had such in her mind threatened the very core of her being, her existence. Was to the Captain, an untrained, undisciplined, and at the moment drugged, mind, was lost among the waves.
The Vulcan was at her last reserves, for a species with no experience in telepathy, the human would last mere minutes.
The screams reached her, and she could see a form bobbing in the horror that was her essence, struggling to stay above the water for his lack of dry land.
She hesitated at the entering of her turmoil, at the facing of her worst fears, but the feet had a mind of their own.
T'pol set off at a sprint, splashing through the water as the level rose higher and higher up her body, until she could stand no longer, the Vulcan plunging head first into the freezing depths.
Underneath the waves, where the rain could be seen penetrating the surface, the sounds muffled by the pressure, it seemed almost, mystical. As if this phenomenon represented none of the hell she had come to associate it with, for even chaos had stability if you can but find it.
The swirling depths seemed to grow deeper, as if attempting to combat her sudden source of strength. But with newfound resolve strong in the face of this monstrosity that had taken residence within her mind, she swam on.
Stroke after stroke until she thought her arms would fall off, and yet she continued, the helpless Captain nearing with every movement, only for the waves to knock her back. But she wasn't fazed, she had found the weakness of her own sub-conscious, one that would lead to the salvation she so desperately craved.
After an eternity of effort, the last vestiges of strength nearing their end, she glanced him through the storm, he was close, oh so close!
Her strokes doubled in power and speed, for a reason she couldn't understand she knew him to be that which she sought. He was the one that would end her torture, end her captivity at the hands of these violent emotions.
The Vulcan's hands fumbled on his blue uniform, grasping the soaked garment and pulling him closer, clutching at his back as he held onto her shoulders for dear life.
She closed her eyes, holding him crushed against her in an inhumanly strong grip, afraid to let go of her only companion in this place of nightmares.
But as their minds connected, truly connected, the contact between their skins serving as a conduit of sorts, it, changed.
The rain lightened until none could be felt, the black clouds faded and the sun arose from its hiding.
And the water, waves receded into the horizon, leaving the two beings to lie on a beach, basked in sunlight.
T'pol gazed in awe at the spectacle, in all its beauty that had come so abruptly.
She looked down at the human as he sobbed, his face tucked into the crook of her neck as he vented all his fear and confusion in the only way he knew how. She tightened her embrace around the man, resolved to give him the strength he needed, the strength he had given her.
A memory struck, its power incredible as it played before her eyes.
"My friends call me Trip"…