1. It's Good to Be Home

To Have Learned Nothing At All 

**Rating:** PG-13

**Pairing:**  At least some T'P/Tu interaction. Not the focus, but definitely visible. 

**Disclaimer**:  Nothing's changed. I still don't own Star Trek or its characters and am still not making any money from this.  Please don't sue. 

**Disclaimer, II:**  This story was inspired by two things: One, the slight uproar over T'Pol's night clothes scene.  This nearly became a parody, in the style of "Meddling with Paradise," but after recently giving a lecture to a room full of college freshmen about Victorian ideas towards sexuality, I was struck by the similarity in attitudes.  **After all, no one thought Trip's nakedness was "gratuitous."** The title pretty much sums up my feelings on the matter. What can I say-the feminist in me was angered. ;)  I was also irritated that everyone thinks Vulcans have the same "morality" issues as humans.  This story is my catharsis to deal with both of those. A Pg-13 rating should be safe, as there's no *actual* sex taking place. The story may still offend you.  But now you can't say you weren't warned. ;)  

**Summary:**  Returning victoriously from the Expanse, The Enterprise crew stops at an Earth space colony on their way back home to Earth.  Once there, they find a rebel group of humans longing for revolution in the post-Xindi universe.

ENOUGH WITH THE WARNINGS! On with the show. . . 

The time that had passed since the crew's last movie night was longer than anyone could remember-with the exception of T'Pol, of course.  It had also been longer than most of the crew would have preferred to dwell upon.  Not that they had not had sufficient cause.  No, the crew of the Enterprise had been fighting the Xindi and in doing so, both vindicating the lives of seven million dead and preventing the loss of any additional deaths.  

But for now, their noble deeds had been pushed to the furthest corners of their minds.  The Xindi Conflict had been resolved and the crew of the NX-01 could guiltlessly enjoy life once again.  One of the first indulgences they had happily regained was movie night.  Presently, two-thirds of the surviving crew sat in rapt attention as they watched _The Wizard of Oz _unfold on the screen in front of them.  

The seating arrangements definitely reflected the change in relationships that had occurred during the voyage.  Close to the front, Ensign Hoshi Sato sat next to Ensign Travis Mayweather whose arm casually draped across her shoulders. In the middle sat Commander Trip Tucker flanked on either side by his two dearest friends-T'Pol and Lieutenant Malcolm Reed.  If asked, Trip would assuredly still count Jonathan Archer as his close friend, but the Expanse had put a definite strain upon their relationship.  Which is perhaps why in the very back of the room sat Captain Jonathan Archer, feeling more than slightly distant from the rest of his crew.  

"There's no place like home," Dorothy repeated, "There's no place like home."  

Trip leaned closer to Malcolm and whispered softly, "That's for damn sure."   Malcolm nodded and undoubtedly, the rest of the crew would have given their agreement as well, had they been asked.  In the hearts and minds of the Enterprise crew, Dorothy of Kansas had been a prophet.  Or at the very least, a _very _wise young lady. 

In the seat next to Trip, T'Pol sat watching curiously as the child clicked her heels and willed herself back home.  She heard Trip's comment and saw Reed's firm nod in response.  Their enthusiasm was understandable.  They had no reason to doubt the results of their homecoming-they would be branded heroes and celebrated with the same fervor that Auntie Em and Uncle Henry welcomed back their niece when she awoke from her coma.  T'Pol doubted very much that _her _home planet would react in a similar fashion.  

T'Pol's musings were cut short when the lights came on and the crew began filing out of the room.  Trip bade goodbye to Malcom and Mackenzie and T'Pol turned her gaze towards the handsome engineer.  "Will you require my assistance tonight, Commander?" she asked.  

*_You're inviting me to your quarters for a massage that we've been carrying on for the entire time we've been in the Expanse, and you still insist on calling me 'Commander,'* _Trip thought to himself.  Although, he conceded, it was probably just as well.  If T'Pol had been any less formal, it was doubtful Trip could have controlled himself as easily as he had. *_No, not easily,*_ he amended.  *_But I've done a good job hiding my more primal urges.  Why, I'd make any Vulcan envious, with the way I've been suppressing my emotions.*  _None of this was anything he wished to share with T'Pol however.  To her, he said, "Ya don't have to do that, T'Pol.  I know ya don't need my help anymore, since the Expanse isn't affecting your REM patterns anymore.  I don't want ya to feel obligated."

T'Pol's brows furrowed in response.  As intrusive as she sometimes found the intimacy of the neuro-pressure, she realized she did not wish for Commander Tucker to miss their appointment, as he had the night before.  "I assure you, Commander, I do not feel 'obligated,' in the manner in which you use the term.  Further, the Expanse was never the reason for your inability to sleep.  Undoubtedly, you still require the benefits of the technique," she surmised.  

The engineer couldn't suppress the grin that overcame his features.  Not only did he know T'Pol was right, but this conversation was the first time she risen to the occasion to banter with him in the past week since they had left the Expanse.  He'd rather missed their verbal jousting. "It'd be helpful," Trip agreed.  "I didn't get but an hour of sleep last night."

"Your stubbornness shall lead to your end, Commander," T'Pol advised.  

"Not while you're here to take care of me," Trip rejoined.  As soon as it left his mouth, Trip felt foolish. The infernal arching of T'Pol's left eyebrow didn't help him feel any less foolish, either.  Flushing, Trip stammered to explain himself, "I-uh. . . I meant that. . . "

"There is no mean to explain, Commander.  I suggest we retire to my quarters now, so that you may get a sufficient amount of sleep tonight to help compensate for what you did not gain last night," T'Pol answered.  

Trip nodded, relieved to have been given an easy out for his slip.  *_So much for controlling yourself, Trip,*_ he chided gently as he fell in step behind T'Pol. 

The walk back to T'Pol's quarters was a quiet one.  Once inside, Trip removed his shirt.  T'Pol noted with interest that regardless of how routine the situation was, the Commander always managed to look slightly embarrassed as he undressed.  *_No doubt due to human emotions of embarrassment,*  _T'Pol pondered. Deciding it would cause him further embarrassment to question him, T'Pol motioned silently to the bed.  

As he sat down, Trip asked, "So, how'd you like the movie?" 

T'Pol's hands stopped briefly as she contemplated an answer.  "It was intriguing," she said finally.  

"That's kinda vague-ah-T'Pol," Trip responded, gasping as the Vulcan hit the correct pressure point in his back. "What did ya find intriguin' about it?"

"I appreciated the symbolism of characters from her life finding manifestations in her dream," T'Pol said slowly. 

"Yeah, I always that was pretty neat too.  Even though she was so far away from home, she still managed to have a little peace of Kansas with her in the wonderful land of Oz," Trip agreed. He could feel the tension leaving his back and silently praised the founder of this technique.  He laughed softly.  "Ya know, it's kinda symbolic.  The Expanse-with all its crazy spheres, space pirates and anomalies is pretty analogous to Oz."

"The monkeys, disgruntled trees and wicked witch representing the aforementioned spheres, pirates and anomalies?" T'Pol questioned.  

Trip laughed again.  T'Pol recalled the moroseness that had plagued him when they had begun their sessions.  While she acknowledged the benefit of the slow redemption out of his descent into anguish, she realized that soon he would no longer need her help.  The thought was more displeasing that it should have been.  Shaking her head, T'Pol pressed her fingers harder against his back. The pressure caused him to moan out loud.  

"Damn, T'Pol," he murmured.  Clearing his throat, he added,  "Ya know, ya sure have mellowed.  The T'Pol I that first came on the Enterprise never would have made such an analogy.  Ya wouldn't have seen the logic in it, I bet."

Trip felt the pause of her finger tips and he braced himself for the backlash he was sure to come.  When it didn't, he was surprised. *_T'Pol sure is being awfully quiet tonight,* _he reflected.  

"It was an appropriate analogy," T'Pol responded as her fingers resumed their contact.  "Just as _The Wizard of Oz _was an undoubtedly appropriate choice for your species on your voyage home."  

Trip turned his head to look at her questionably.  "What about you?  You're returning home too."  

T'Pol rose, signifying that she was finished.  "Are you sufficiently relaxed, Commander?" she questioned.  

Trip nodded and rose to stand as well.  "Yeah, I feel a lot better.  I'll sleep like a baby. How come ya didn't answer my question?"  He felt momentarily guilty about prying, but he pushed the thought away.  T'Pol had helped him for the entire duration of the Expanse mission.  As a result, they had inevitably grown closer.  Maybe not as close as he wished, but close enough to consider each other friends.  

T'Pol sat back down on the bed and turned her gaze upward as she regarded him steadily.  "There was no need.  You already acknowledged the truth."

Trip's face scrunched in confusion.  "When exactly did I do that?" 

"In your analysis of the change in my persona and the decline of my logic," T'Pol answered.  

Dawning came upon Trip and he felt a twinge of guilt.   Here he'd been trying to bait T'Pol and had stumbled upon the subject that had been causing her concern for the past week. *_Good job, Trip,*_ he scolded himself.  *_Way to repay her for all her help.  Taunt what she considers to be her weakness.*  _ "Oh. . . you're worried that the High Command will still be upset at you for coming with us into the Expanse, huh?" he asked, lowering his voice to imply his sympathy. 

T'Pol clasped her hands together and held them in her lap. "I am not 'worried,' Commander.  That is a human emotion.  However, there is little doubt the Vulcan High Command will remain firm in their original beliefs regarding the Expanse.  My homeworld was never in imminent danger and thus, they did not gain substantially from the experience."

"What about the scientific discoveries we made while in there?" Trip pointed out. 

T'Pol shook her head.  "That reasoning is not likely to sway them."

"That's lousy," Trip commented, running his hand through his hair distractedly. "It doesn't seem fair they would hold such a grudge."

"You must remember, Commander, I resigned my commission with them prior to entering the Expanse.  I left them with little alternative," T'Pol replied.  "To re-grant my commission and rank without sufficient cause would be illogical and an emotional response worthy of a human-not a Vulcan."

Trip sighed in frustration.  T'Pol was right of course.  "Ya know, for a race that prides itself so much on being unemotional, you Vulcans sure can be stubborn."

T'Pol crossed her arms and would have scowled, had she been human. "On the contrary, I believe stubbornness to be a human quality. As I have already pointed out, Commander, I have known considerably stubborn members of your species."

Trip grinned.  *_That's the T'Pol I've been missing all week,*_ he thought joyously to himself.  As good as it was to have her back, Trip wanted to make certain she remained.  "Ya were right about my stubbornness," he conceded, earning a bemused eyebrow lift from the Vulcan.  *_Never thought you'd hear that from me, did you?*_  Trip questioned inwardly.  "And I hope you appreciated hearin' that, because it isn't goin' to become a regular occurrence."

"I would not expect it to be," T'Pol answered.  "Such admissions would contradict your stubborn nature."

Trip gave her an amused smirk and continued, "You were also right about somethin' else.   Remember how you said Dorothy was able to take a part of her home with her to the land of Oz?"

"Yes," T'Pol answered. 

"Well, that's you.  The whole time we were in the Expanse, you kept using your Vulcan principles and knowledge to bail us out of trouble.  Yeah, you might have had to bend them a bit-but they were still evident.  Just as the three farm hands were the lion, scarecrow, and tin man.  You're still T'Pol, and you're still a Vulcan."

"That analogy is flawed, as Dorothy's dream was the result of physicial injury sustained during the tornado," T'Pol replied. 

"Yeah, but it's still a good analogy," Trip answered defiantly, placing his hands on his hips.

T'Pol cocked her head.  "It has considerable merit," she answered.  "Thank you, Commander."

"No need to thank me, T'Pol," he answered.  "It's the truth.  And if the Vulcan High Command can't see that, then to hell with 'em.  Ya can always move to Earth.  I'm sure Starfleet would be more than happy to have your input, after all you've done for us."

"I shall keep that option in mind, Commander," T'Pol responded sincerely. 

"And uh. . . maybe if you're still experiencing tension, I could . . . return the massage," Trip suggested.  

T'Pol contemplated his offer.  "Without the effect of the Expanse, meditation should suffice," she answered.  

Trip flushed and nodded.  "Sure.  Well, I'll be going," he said as he turned quickly towards the door. 

"Although," T'Pol started, stopping Trip in his tracks, "Undoubtedly the massage method will aide in my mediation efforts."

Trip nodded and remained looking at the door.  "Okay, then. Um, I'll just keep lookin' at the door while you um, get ready."

T'Pol briefly contemplated telling him that was unnecessary, but the stammering in his sentence structure reminded her of his human propensity for propriety.  She did not see the logic in it at all.  "Are you this uncomfortable when Dr. Phlox examines you?" she inquired as she began removing her top. 

"No," Trip answered.  "But well, it's not the same thing."

"I hardly see why not," T'Pol answered.  "Both are medical procedures." 

"It's a human thing, T'Pol," Trip responded with a sigh.  *_And I don't have to fight with my body to keep it from responding to Phlox,* _he added silently. 

"More species stubbornness," T'Pol remarked.  "In any event, I am prepared, Commander."

Trip turned around then and stifled a gasp.  The sight of T'Pol sitting perched on the bed with her hands strategically placed to mask her breasts was a sight that the Commander was certain would find its way into his dreams once again.  *_Not that I'd complain.  It's a damn sight better than the alternative.*  _He couldn't help but smile as he took a seat behind T'Pol and flexed his fingers.  *_The massages lull me to sleep and gives me somethin' to dream about.  Not a bad deal at all.* _

_"_So, T'Pol, since we've established that you're Dorothy in _The Wizard of Oz, _who do you suppose I am?" Trip questioned, pressing firmly.

"There is such a thing as carrying an analogy too far, Commander," T'Pol cautioned. 

"Haha, T'Pol.  Humor me, huh? After all, I figure the Cap'n's probably the wizard himself-"

"Then it would stand to reason that the rest of the crew would be munchkins," T'Pol interrupted. 

Trip scowled at the back of her head.  "So, your sayin' I'm a random munchkin?" he asked disappointedly.  

T'Pol shook her head.  "No.  Since you insist on continuing this flawed analogy, I would say you most closely resemble Toto." 

"Toto?  The dog?" Trip asked in surprise.  "What makes you say that?" 

"Toto was as close to Dorothy as the manifestations of the farm hands were," T'Pol answered.  "The canine was her companion on the journey-just as you have assisted me during our time in the Expanse." 

Trip was shocked into silence for a moment.  Regaining his voice, he managed, "Why, T'Pol, that's awfully sweet of you to say."

T'Pol's head swiveled around to lock gazes with him.  "It was not intended to be _sweet, _Commander," she retorted.  "Further, if you recall, Toto was capable of causing a sufficient amount of trouble." 

"Trouble? Toto? What the poor little dog do?" Trip asked, stifling a laugh and making a mental note that "sweet" was definitely a button to push when he wanted a reaction from the Vulcan. 

"The 'poor little dog,' caused a sufficient amount of trouble due to his curiosity and desire to run through the neighbor's yards.  That incident was the very reason Dorothy ran away. Had she not done this, she would have been in the cellar with the rest of her family when the tornado struck and therefore would not have been in a coma," T'Pol answered. 

"And if she hadn't been in a coma, she wouldn't have visited Oz in the first place," Trip finished for her. 

"That is correct."

"I don't know, T'Pol, that doesn't sound like me at all.  I think it's a bad analogy," Trip answered. 

"I already stated the weakness of this analogy," T'Pol replied smoothly. "However, you and Toto do share a propensity to allow curiosity to overrule your cognitive abilities." 

"Hey! When have I done that?" Trip demanded indignantly. 

T'Pol again turned her head to address the engineer. "The Xyrillians."

"Dear God, T'Pol, aren't ya ever goin' to let me live that down?" Trip exclaimed. 

T'Pol turned to look back at the door so that Trip did not see the smile that tugged at her lips.  "It was an appropriate time to revisit the experience.  It is conclusive proof that you have a tendency to be ruled by your impulses instead of logic, just as Toto did."

"Yeah, well, you're the Vulcan," Trip grumbled.

"Although there is an important difference between you and Toto," T'Pol conceded. 

"I should certainly think so!  Please be so kind as to share with me what you think the difference is," Trip asked.

"When Toto put his paws where they did not belong, it did not result in a pregnancy," T'Pol answered. 

In the corridor outside T'Pol's quarters, a crewman looked up with a start as he heard a burst of male laughter coming from inside.  Smiling, the crewman reflected that the homecoming was having a positive affect on all of them, even the normally stoic Vulcan science officer.

It was good to be home. 

To Be Continued . . . 

Please Review! 

Also, I need a beta-preferably someone who can be harsh-with both grammar and plot development.  I've been re-reading "Consequences," and I'm horrified! So, if you're willing, please email me. 


	2. We're Off To See the Colony

A/N: It's worth stating that not only do I not own any of the Star Trek universe, I also do not own the Wizard of Oz. 

A/N, II:  **Huge, huge, huge, huge, huge** thank you to my two betas:  HopefulNebula and K.Phillips for offering honest and blunt advice concerning atrocious grammar, plot holes, stuff that didn't make sense, and characterization oopsies. This chapter is a leaner meaner machine thanks to both of you. ;) 

_Chapter 2: We're Off To See The Colony _

~~~ 

In his quarters, Trip dreamed. 

_Elizabeth Tucker sat in the same spot she always occupied in Trip's dreams-at the small, round white patio table that formerly sat on her deck. The table that haunted his dreams had been where Trip had first broken the news that he had been assigned to the Enterprise. While Lizzy had been happy for her sibling, she had been fearful for his safety as well. In the end, Lizzy's final words had been sadly ironic: "Space's a dangerous place, Trip. Be careful." _

_In the months following the Xindi attack, Lizzy's last words had often plagued Trip. It was no doubt because of the nature of their last conversation that Trip continued to meet her there in his dreams. When the nightmares came, he returned to the last place he'd seen her in person in a frantic plea for her to escape before it was too late. His cries had been, of course, arriving just as the Xindi probe began its path of destruction. _

_T'Pol's massages had certainly helped, even if they hadn't eradicated the nightmares entirely. After all, there had been plenty of times during their time in the Expanse that the Enterprise simply couldn't part with both the first officer and chief engineer long enough for Trip to receive a massage. _

_Thus, when his dream began, it was familiar enough to be terrifying. There was Elizabeth, sitting at the same familiar table where she'd made him promise to be careful. As he had before, he yelled at her to get away, to run. Elizabeth turned to look at him and her gaze turned from surprise to happiness as she waved to him. When she did so, Trip could see a very familiar Vulcan sitting beside her. _

_"Elizabeth, T'Pol, get out of there!" he yelled frantically. _

_In response, Elizabeth turned around and shook her head. "T'Pol and I are havin' lunch, Trip," she responded with irritation. "Either come join us or leave, but quit hollerin'," she commanded. _

_Trip glanced behind the two of them, certain that impending doom was on its way to destroy his sister and T'Pol. Instead of the alien probe, however, the sight that greeted him was a bright Florida sky. The only rays cast down upon Earth were the rays of the sun, which kissed Lizzy's blond locks and caressed T'Pol's dark ones happily, mocking Trip's sense of apprehension. _

_Seeing his worry, T'Pol spoke up. "You must take a seat, Trip," she encouraged. "Your anxiety is unfounded." _

_The address startled him out of his pessimism. "You've never called me Trip before," he commented slowly. _

_"Then it's surely a cause for celebration," Lizzy injected. "So, have a seat and quit frettin'." _

_After one last cautious glance at the heavens in an effort to catch sight of the impending tragedy, he gave in and sat down. _

_"So what were ya ladies discussin' before I arrived?" He asked, taking a bite of the pecan pie that Lizzy pushed before him. _

_"I was just tellin' T'Pol about your fabulous boatin' skills," Elizabeth answered. "But I've got to run, so ya can finish tellin' her about it," she added, rising. _

_Trip's face fell momentarily. "Do ya have to go?" he asked. _

_"Yes, I do, Trip," she answered, leaning over and giving her brother a hug. With a soft kiss on his cheek, she added softly enough for only him to hear, "Maybe you could take her for a ride, Trip." _

_With that she got up and walked away, and Trip had no other choice than to turn back to T'Pol._

~~~ 

The alarm chose to awaken him at that moment. After turning off the alarm, for a moment _, _he just lay there, contemplating the dream he had awoken from. It was the first time he'd had this particular a dream. _  
  
_

*_So why the change?_* Trip wondered. As relieving as it was to wake up without having nightmares, a slight part of him felt guilty. The facts hadn't changed-Lizzy had still lost her life. What kind of man did it make him if he was able to not only stop mourning his baby sister's death, but was now choosing to talk to T'Pol instead of Lizzy in his dreams? 

*_Then again, didn't Lizzy give me permission to talk, in my dream?_* Trip rationalized. He allowed a slight smile to grace his face as he remembered the ease with which Lizzy had accepted T'Pol's presence. The idea of T'Pol getting along with his family made Trip very happy. Not wanting to dwell upon why that was, Trip climbed out of bed and began heading towards the shower. 

~~~ 

For once, Trip arrived in the mess ahead of T'Pol. As he watched her enter, he felt a familiar feeling of comfort wash over him. He was also glad to see she was wearing the red suit that had been one of two outfits to replace the darker uniform she'd given up when she'd resigned her commission with Vulcan High Command. *_Good. I like the red one_,* Trip thought inwardly. With a slight sigh, Trip remembered a time not so long ago when he hadn't viewed T'Pol as a potential sexual partner. *_Damn it, when did I stop thinking of T'Pol as an annoying colleague and start thinking of her as a woman?*_

Things had been much easier when she'd just been an annoying colleague, Trip decided. 

"Is something troubling you, Commander?" T'Pol's voice shook him out of his daze as she stood before him, holding her tray and looking at him expectantly. 

*_You have no idea_.* "Nah, I was just thinkin', T'Pol. Good mornin', by the way," Trip responded. 

T'Pol nodded and sat down across from him. "Was your sleep uneventful?" she questioned. 

Trip nearly choked on his eggs. When he regained control of himself, he saw that T'Pol was staring at him with a look of concern. "Commander?" she queried. "Have the nightmares returned?" 

"Not exactly," Trip answered slowly. 

T'Pol laid her spoon next to her bowl of plomeek broth with her trademark fastidiousness and folded her hands in front of her. "The question can be answered with a 'yes' or a 'no', Commander," she responded. 

Trip shook his head. "No it can't." *_And there's no way I can tell you that you've been popping into my dreams. No way at all_.* 

"Then perhaps you should explain," T'Pol urged. 

"Nah, it's not that important," Trip assured her. 

T'Pol regarded the stubborn man in front of her, attempting to determine exactly what it would take to force him to reveal himself. "Charles," she said quietly, "it would be best if you discussed your dream with another." 

Trip looked up in surprise. In all their time together during the Expanse, T'Pol had never called him anything less formal than "Mr. Tucker." He'd encouraged her to call him Trip, but she'd refused, stating that it wasn't his name and therefore there was no logic in calling him Trip. With a sigh, Trip knew he couldn't refuse her after such a concession. *_No one's called me Charles but my momma, but it's a hell of a lot less formal than 'Commander,_'* Trip reflected. Taking a deep breath, he confessed his dream. 

Pleased that her method had worked, T'Pol listened intently and paused to digest the implications of the dream after he was finished. She inferred that Commander Tucker was disturbed by his dream, but she could not acertain why. 

"Well, T'Pol, say somethin'," Trip ordered impatiently. *_I knew it. She's horrified that I'm having dreams about her. She's either going to kill me or never speak to me again or both.*_

"I do not believe your dream should cause you discomfort, Charles," T'Pol responded. "Previously, your nightmares have demonstrated that you had a substantial amount of 'survival guilt.' This dream demonstrated that your sub-conscious is aware of the futility of that guilt. By having Elizabeth give you permission to. . . " T'Pol paused as she searched for the right word, ". . .enjoy yourself, you were admitting that you should bear no guilt for having the ability to continue in your normal lifestyle." 

Trip frowned. "T'Pol, I know ya don't have any siblings, but Lizzy's not been dead long enough for me to just quit grievin'," Trip argued. 

"Charles, no amount of time shall pass that will be sufficient for you to no longer feel the pain of losing your sister," T'Pol agreed. "Particularly if you were as close as you have professed to have been. But there exists a difference between grief and ceasing to exist. We have been in the Expanse for a substantial amount of time. During that time, you were able to focus on Elizabeth's death nearly exclusively in our pursuit of the Xindi. You no longer have that luxury." 

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Trip agreed softly. 

Seeing that Trip was still not completely convinced, T'Pol tried again. "Do you recall our conversation concerning the katra?" 

"Yes," Trip answered. The conversation had occurred during one of their sessions. Since his sister had died, Trip had found himself questioning mortality and the afterlife. He'd shared his beliefs and T'Pol had explained hers. He'd found it to be an enormously helpful experience. 

"Then you recall that our katras are shared and taken back to Gol in order to be released, whenever possible," T'Pol recounted. When Trip nodded, she continued, "It is typically a family member who is trusted with the katra. Regardless of their own . . . discomfort, they must make the trek to Gol and release the katra of their departed. Those who do not are driven to insanity." 

"So. . .you think Lizzy's katra was urgin' me to let it go?" Trip questioned. 

"Perhaps. I see no reason why a human would not have a katra as well," T'Pol replied smoothly. 

"Thanks, T'Pol," Trip said softly. He was genuinely happier than he had been when they had begun this conversation. 

Sensing that this train of thought was completed, T'Pol turned the discussion to other things. "I trust you contacted the Captain?" she asked. 

Trip frowned. "Yeah, I contacted him. Just like I have every day since he stopped eatin' with us. And just like he's said every day, he said he had other things to do." 

"Perhaps he shall change his mind in the future," T'Pol suggested. 

"I doubt it," Trip snapped in a combination of anger and frustration. Neither was directed at T'Pol. However, as the man it was directed towards was unavailable, T'Pol served as an efficient substitute. Trip immediately regretted it. "I'm sorry, T'Pol. I didn't mean to yell at you." 

"Your trepidation is understandable. I too am concerned about the Captain and he and I do not share the emotional bond that you and he do," T'Pol answered smoothly. 

"Did," Trip corrected. "Did, but I'm not so sure we do anymore, T'Pol." 

"You still care for him," T'Pol replied. "That has not changed. Nor have his feelings for you. Your relationship shall recover." 

Trip pushed around his bacon around the plate for a moment before responding, "How can you be so certain?" 

"My time with humans has led me to believe your people to be capable of great emotional flexibility," T'Pol responded. 

Trip smirked in reply. "I thought you said we were all stubborn," he reminded her. 

"No. I believe I said certain members of your species were stubborn," T'Pol answered. 

"Certain members, huh?" Trip chuckled, nibbling on his bacon. 

T'Pol furrowed her brows at the barbaric display. With a repressed sigh, T'Pol rejoined, "Yes, Commander. I was referring to you." 

"Gee, T'Pol, don't hold back," Trip remarked sarcastically. "And yes, I recall you thinkin' I'm as stubborn as a dog," he smirked in reference to her Toto comment. 

T'Pol reflected that she had never heard the expression "stubborn as a dog," but she chalked it up to another human quirk before commenting, "By the way, after you left my quarters I did some additional research on the Wizard of Oz." 

T'Pol did not understand the grin the split the Commander's face. "Course ya did, T'Pol," Trip replied with a slight chuckle. 

Deciding once again to ignore what was clearly a sign of Trip's eccentricity, T'Pol continued unabated, "I was unaware the film was originally a novel which served as an allegory of Gilded Age political structure in Earth's United States' history." 

"I didn't know that either," Trip responded honestly. "Like I've said before, history's never been my best subject." 

"The historical symbolism in the film-and presumably the novel as well-were utterly fascinating," T'Pol remarked. 

"What kinda symbolism?" Trip asked skeptically. *_Leave it to T'Pol to want to deconstruct The Wizard of Oz.*_

"The novel was written during a period of great agrarian unrest. Dorothy symbolized the typical Midwest farmer. The Cowardly Lion represented William Jennings Bryan, the Populist candidate for presidency. The tin man was a token of the industrialism of the period," T'Pol informed him. 

"Who do the munchkins symbolize?" Trip asked, mildly interested. 

"The working class, presumably," T'Pol replied. "You will note that in the start of the film, the munchkins are being oppressed by the wicked witch of the east. She is a personification of the tyrannical nature of cities along the eastern coast of the United States as argued by the Populists." 

Trip regarded her with a heavy dosage of disbelief. "T'Pol, it's The Wizard of Oz, for crying out loud." 

"I am not disputing that fact, Commander," T'Pol replied. 

"No, but ya want to historically analyze it," Trip retorted. "The Wizard of Oz is a classic film and shouldn't be subjected to historical analysis." 

"Fascinating. I do not understand your species predilection towards turning important literary novels into films. I maintain that much more could be gained by simply reading the works," T'Pol responded. 

Trip sighed. "I suppose you're in favor of abandoning movie night in favor of a book readin' again? I thought we'd cured ya of that notion, T'Pol." 

"A reading would be a more mutually beneficial activity," T'Pol replied. 

Trip didn't stifle his groan. "Well, like I've said before, T'Pol-if ya want to start a book club, go ahead. But I doubt a whole lotta people are gonna want to join ya." 

T'Pol looked at him quizzically for a moment. "I do not understand why you presume to believe I am interested in beginning a book club for the entire crew, Commander. At no time did I mention them." With that, T'Pol arose and exited the mess hall swiftly. 

Trip remained seated for a moment. *_What the hell was that? If she wasn't talking about the rest of the crew, was she just talking about her and me?*_ Trip wondered. 

Trip shook his head. Not in the realm of possibility. Surely the Vulcan hadn't just asked him out on a date. *_And I certainly didn't just turn her down_.* 

With a sigh, Trip emptied his tray and headed towards the bridge. *_It's going to be a long shift_,* he thought morosely. 

~~~ 

Trip was not alone in lamenting the tediousness of his shift. Most of the Enterprise crew were more anxious to arrive back on Earth and the journey home was nothing more than a dull stretch of time and space standing in the way of that goal. While the overall mood of the crew had shifted to a positive one, it was definitely an anxiety attached to that sensation. Little thought was given to the exploration or adventure that had dominated their thoughts so many years ago, when they had first left Jupiter Station. Surely they'd had enough of both while in the Expanse. Now it was time to return home where exploration and adventure would give way to celebration and reunions. 

Unfortunately, space was big. Very, very big. 

Of all the Enterprise crew members, no one realized the extent of the vastness of space better than the captain. Jonathan Archer sat stiffly in his chair, reviewing final reports that had to be finished before they returned to Earth. Pausing, he turned to survey his senior staff. Both Malcolm and T'Pol were fastidiously bent over their instruments, each surveying their equipment with their trademark dedication. Allowing a small smile to cross his face, he turned his gaze towards Hoshi, although quiet, gave a much more animated presence. Of all the senior crew, she and Travis were the showing their pleasure at being home the most. Turning back around to look at the helmsman, Archer wondered idly if Mayweather's pleasure had to do more with being out of the Expanse than with returning home. After all, being a boomer, Travis didn't have any reason to regard Earth as home. 

Archer's musings were interrupted by Hoshi informing him of a communication from Admiral Forrest. Archer nodded and told her he'd take it in the situation room. Heading in that direction, Archer hoped the Admiral was calling with more pomp and unnecessary ceremony instead of a homecoming-stalling event. 

His hopes were misguided. 

"It's a human colony, Jon," Admiral Forrest told him by way of preventing the captain's anger. "The security and sewage systems need repair.  You have both Tucker and Reed to lead those projects. The Enterprise is the only ship in the vicinity." 

"What's a human colony doing this far away from Earth, anyway?" Archer asked, barely controlling his agitation. 

"During the time you've been gone, there have been some substantial changes in Earth's political structure. Externally, we've grown closer with several of our alien friends. Internally, a small minority of people blame the Xindi attack on our contact with aliens. The APA I colony is one such group," Forrest responded. 

"So, they're revolutionaries? If they aren't happy with the way Earth is being governed and they left to form their own government why should we help them?" Archer demanded. 

"Because they're human, Jon. We may not agree with all their policies, but we can't turn our backs on them," Forrest answered firmly. 

"Are they dangerous?" Archer questioned. 

The pause in Forrest's answer did not make Archer happy. "No . . . they've never been known to be physically violent." 

"What exactly are they known for?" The Captain asked. "I have a right to know what I'm sending my crew into." 

"Of course you do. The APA primarily believe in segregating humanity from alien cultures. They believe exposure to non-humans has caused the human race considerable harm," Forrest began. 

"In the case of the Xindi, I agree," Archer answered. "But the Vulcans haven't attacked us-nor have the Tellarites or Andorians." 

"I know that, Jon. You know that. Your crew knows that. Most of Earth's citizens know that. Even the APA know that. But they aren't talking about just physical threats to Earth. They believe alien cultures have also contaminated humanity's society by challenging our moral and ethical codes of behavior," Forrest responded. 

"Why would they have reason to believe that?" Archer demanded. 

"I don't know, Jon. Between you and me, I think they're just looking for justifications for being xenophobic and racist," Forrest confessed. "But regardless, they've asked for help, and we have to give it to them.  But there's one additional problem with their colony. There's been some significant seismic activity lately and they need help trying to pinpoint specific fault lines.  " 

Archer frowned. "Admiral, Trip and Malcolm will fix their sewage and security systems.  We have a staff geologist, but the best scientist I have isn't human. If they're as xenophobic as you say, we may not be able to help them pinpoint their fault lines, after all." 

"I know. Do your best, Jon. But whatever you do, don't anger them," Forrest cautioned. "Earth was a very vulnerable place after the attack. In many ways, we're still picking up the pieces. The last thing we need is a major political upheaval." 

"Understood, Admiral." 

"Good luck, Jon. Forrest out." 

Disconnecting, Archer let out a soft groan. His crew wasn't going to be happy. But their homecoming was just going to have to wait. 

~~

To Be Continued. . . 

Oh, and wishes for happy endings already? Well, you know what Malcolm says about them? ;)

Please review. 


	3. There's a Land That I Heard of

Chapter 3:  There's a Land That I Heard Of . . . 

A/N:  Thanks to my wonderful betas: Hopeful Nebula and K. Phillips for again whipping this chapter into shape.  Any mistakes that remain are 159 percent my fault. By the way, his *does* have a plot other than T/T talking about The Wizard of Oz.  It's just forming awwwwwfuly sloooooooow.  

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*            

A circle of scowls greeted Jonathan Archer's announcement and confirmed his earlier belief.  His crew was not happy.  Unfortunately, the people that they should have been angry at were not available.  Thus, the Captain was destined to absorb the brunt of their abhorrence upon receiving the revolting news that they were not going home right away.  

Or at least, he had expected to.  The Captain felt a twinge of regret as his crew sat only in disappointed silence in reaction to his news.  While their facial expressions clearly showed them to be disgruntled, they refused to express their discontent verbally.  Archer chose to see such hesitation as proof of their professionalism.  In truth, however, he could not help but wonder whether they would have been more forthcoming prior to their journey to the Expanse.  Such reserve was to be expected from T'Pol and Malcolm, but not the other officers.  

He was relieved, however, when T'Pol broke their silence.  "What tasks do the colonists require assistance with?" 

Allowing himself an inward smile at his pragmatic science officer, Archer responded, "They need help with their sewage and security systems. Trip and Malcolm, I want you to be in charge of correcting those."

_This _did elicit a verbal response from Trip.  True, it was minimal - a groan at best, a whimper in all probability – but it was enough to provoke a return response from the Captain.  "Yes, Trip, I'm aware you aren't the sanitation engineer, but I'm putting you in charge of the project anyway," Archer replied in retort.  

Archer allowed himself a feeling of satisfaction that had been considerably absent since their descent into the Expanse, as the expressions of both surprise and delight splashed across the younger man's face.  The reference to their conversations with the school children had seemed so distant to the Captain now that Archer had wondered if Trip would remember the event.   From the reaction upon Trip's face, Archer surmised that engineer had remembered indeed. Filing that information away happily, the Captain continued, "Both of you take as many men as you need.  The colony is also having problems with some type of seismic activity.  I'll be sending Dr. Anders and a science crew down to the surface to investigate."

With the exception of T'Pol, Archer's entire senior staff responded with looks of bewilderment at hearing his last command.  

T'Pol may not have visibly expressed her surprise, but she verbally acknowledged that such a turn of events was not typical.  "Is there a particular reason Dr. Anders will be leading the science crew?" she questioned. 

Archer had not been looking forward to this conversation.  Experience had taught him, however, that it was best to be as direct as possible when conversing with T'Pol.  Glancing briefly in her direction before responding to the crew at large, he answered, "It turns out that the colonists are known to have some . . . xenophobic qualities.  After the Xindi attack on Earth, the APA group, and others like it, began to protest human-alien interaction."

"What's that have to do with T'Pol?" Trip demanded.  "She's not a Xindi."

"That much is obvious, Commander Tucker," T'Pol deadpanned.  "Regardless, I am an alien."

"But the Vulcans didn't attack Earth," Trip reminded her.  "It doesn't make any sense for them to associate Vulcans with the Xindi."

When T'Pol responded, her voice was noticeably quieter.  "In case you have forgotten, Commander, my people were not in favor of joining Earth in the pursuit of the Xindi." 

Trip opened his mouth as though to respond, closed it, and glanced down at the console in front of him.  Archer noted the exchange between them, and again felt a momentary twinge of regret at being left out.  The fact that never before would Trip have conceded so easily to the Vulcan was also not lost upon the Captain.  Archer briefly wondered if the rumor mill plaguing his ship was correct in ascertaining the nature of their relationship.  Deciding not to dwell upon the possibility that once he would have known for certain, Archer continued, "Apparently the colony's main contention is that Earth's morals and ethics have been compromised by alien interaction."

Trip's head snapped up at that, interrupting his silent communication with the console in front of him.  "That's ridiculous," he argued. 

Archer could not help but reflect that when they had left Earth, Trip had been just as pre-disposed against Vulcans as he had been.  To hear his friend staunchly defending the non-human lifestyle was an interesting change of events, Archer mused. "Yes, Trip, I agree. But the political situation is delicate.  We've been warned not to anger them."  Turning a sympathetic glance to T'Pol, he added, "Even if they certainly don't speak for _us._"

"Dr. Anders is very competent," T'Pol responded.  "Unless the problem is exceedingly complicated, I doubt it shall be beyond his capability to fix."

Archer took the comment as the conversation ender it was intended to be.  "Very well.  Travis, you have the co-ordinates.  Set course immediately-warp 4.  The sooner we get there, the sooner we can be done and on our way home."

With those thoughts in mind, the senior crew filed out of the command center, each of them hoping that the diversion to the human colony would be a brief one.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

From what the Captain had stated, T'Pol had been expecting coldness or hostility from the wayward colony – or both. The man on the screen in front of them presented a mood that was the very opposite of hostility.  Slightly bent with age, the leader of the colony appeared to be at least in his seventies, with the thinning gray hair to prove it.  His blue eyes looked sociable enough, hidden as they were behind the corrective eyewear that most humans hadn't worn in almost half a century.  T'Pol took such eyewear to be an open sign of defiance against the current state of humanity.  The blatant hypocrisy of the leader wearing the glasses while simultaneously using a state of the art communication system to confer with a starship was apparently lost upon the leader.  It was not lost, however, upon T'Pol and she wondered idly if the colony displayed such ignorance in the rest of their decisions.  She suppressed that train of thought as the man began to speak. 

 "Ah, Captain Archer.  On behalf of the human race, let me be the first to thank you and your crew for your efforts in extinguishing the Xindi threat," the leader stated cheerfully. 

The Captain appeared to be as surprised as T'Pol.  Unlike the Vulcan, however, the human captain was weak enough to vocalize his state of mental confusion. There was decided hesitation before Archer responded.  "Yes, I'm Captain Jonathan Archer of the Starship Enterprise.  You must be the leader of the APA I colony?"

"Yes.  I'm Mayor Roger Lewis," the leader confirmed.  T'Pol noted that when the leader spoke, his larger frame shook with mirth, as though he were laughing inwardly at some hoax of which only he was aware.  Reflecting that human behavior still eluded her comprehension even after having spent so much time amongst them, T'Pol listened intently while the Captain looked her words to express his purpose.

"We've received word from Starfleet that you need some help with your sewage and security systems," Archer stated.  

Lewis nodded.  "We are also having some seismic difficulties," he added hastily.  

A frown crossed the Captain's face and remained there as he answered, "I'm sending down my chief engineer and tactical officer to deal with the sewage and security systems.  I"ll also send down a geology team to help with the seismic difficulties."

"I shall look forward to meeting your crew, Captain," Lewis said solemnly.  "Please be aware that they must be sent down within the next twenty minutes before the storms begin again."

T'Pol reflected that the ion distortions in the atmosphere might require a more serious moniker than "storms," but she remained silent.

Archer nodded. "My science officer has informed me of the situation, Mayor Lewis.  According to her calculations, the storms last about a week?" 

"Yes.  During that time, it is impossible for anyone to enter or leave the planet's atmosphere," Lewis commented. "Your science officer must be quite remarkable."

"She is," Archer responded.  "She's also a Vulcan."

T'Pol reflected that the Captain's time in conflict had only served to worsen his diplomatic skills.  While at war, the best diplomacy had often come in the form of phase cannons, the Captain had been fond of reiterating. Still, T'Pol had to restrain a sigh at his bluntness towards Mayor Lewis.  Archer's protectiveness towards her had been completely unnecessary, as well as highly territorial.  

Lewis simply nodded. "I am aware of the diversity of your crew, Captain.  While I am not certain what you have heard about our organization, let me assure you that Sub-Commander T'Pol will be treated with the utmost respect during her stay on our colony."

Archer turned to give her a surprised look. T'Pol refused to so much as raise an eyebrow. Turning back towards the screen, Archer answered, "Well, she won't be on the science team. Dr. Anders, our geologist, shall meet you on the surface with the rest of the away team fifteen minutes from now."

Lewis paused, as though he thought briefly about saying something else.  Apparently thinking better of it, he shook his head and answered only, "We thank you for your hospitality, Captain," before severing the connection.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

After the connection was severed, the Enterprise crew was not privy to the conversation between Lewis and his governing council, who had remained out of sight, but within earshot of the exchange. 

"You should have encouraged them to send the Vulcan," Councilman Dobrejeck argued. 

"Yes, she would have provided ample opportunity to test our newly developed mental disciplines," Councilman Trinh agreed. "Vulcans are known for their mental strengths.  If she could be broken, anyone could."

"Enough," Mayor Lewis answered sternly. "The Enterprise has done all of Earth a great service.  For that, we owe them immensely. We will not repay them by luring their crew members into duress.  While they are here, they will be treated as guests."

"As long as they obey our laws," Trinh stated forcefully.  

"Of course," Lewis agreed.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

In the corridor on the way to the shuttle bay, Archer turned to T'Pol and remarked, "They aren't what I was expecting."

"You were expecting open hostility?" she surmised.

Archer scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Something like that," he answered.  

"According to Vulcan customs, he did demonstrate considerable antagonism," T'Pol answered. At the Captain's questioning look, she continued, "While Vulcans do not typically demonstrate open hostility, there are times when we exhibit . . . shunning. . .of members of our society. The most common method of expressing this sentiment is by ignoring their presence within our society.  Mayor Lewis did this while were on the bridge.  Even as he spoke about me, he did not acknowledge my presence."

Archer shrugged. "Maybe he was simply focusing on me because I'm the Captain," he suggested. "After all, he wouldn't be following Vulcan tradition in any event."

T'Pol doubted that humans' methods of shunning individuals varied  greatly from that of her people, but she disregarded the thought as they entered the shuttle bay.  Lieutenant Reed and Commander Tucker were preparing to board with their perspective teams. Her Vulcan hearing could faintly detect the Lieutenant heckling the Commander about something related to their perspective homelands.  The lieutenant, it seemed, was under the opinion that Malaysian summers were more unbearable than Floridian summers while Commander Tucker proclaimed that Floridian summers were hot enough to "Make Lucifer himself sigh." 

T'Pol marveled at the tenacity of their desire to return home, even in light of being diverted, and wondered if she would ever share the urge to return to her home world. 

It was unlikely, she decided. 

"Trip, Malcolm," Archer was greeting his senior officers.  At the Captain's voice, the good natured banter ceased and T'Pol noted that both Lieutenant Reed and Commander Tucker seemed instantly at ill ease in their Captain's presence.  Years ago, T'Pol would have commended their increased professionalism in front of the Captain. Currently, however, she couldn't help but remember how relaxed they had at one time been – even Lieutenant Reed - and think that perhaps the ship had been better off with such a system.   T'Pol justified her change in view by noting the decrease in morale that had to be associated with  the loss of the previous command structure.

"Captain," Commander Tucker greeted his old friend formally, with his hands behind his back.  "Malcolm and I have everything ready to go.  The engineers and armory crew are going with Malcolm- Dr. Anders is traveling with me."

Archer nodded his approval. "How many of you are going in total?" 

"Just five of us.  Malcolm's taking Tanner and Luxin; Anders is taking Shattuck," Trip replied. 

"You aren't taking anyone from engineering?" Archer questioned.

Trip shook his head. "From what the Admiral sent, it's a one man job. Besides, I don't like the idea of sending my crew down there when it could be dangerous."

Archer winced but nodded. "I know the feeling."

"There is no need for you to feel negligent in your duties, Captain," T'Pol interrupted.  "Given the possibly volatile environment of the colonists, it is best to keep the numbers of the away team as small as possible."

"I know," Archer answered with a sigh.

"In addition, the away team will be gone for at least a week.  The ship should not be without her captain for that long," T'Pol argued. 

"I get the point, T'Pol.  I'm staying," Archer answered, holding up a hand to stop any additional waves of protest.  

T'Pol decided not to take the comment as the rebuke the Captain intended and turned back towards Commander Tucker, who had been watching her curiously.  Catching his gaze, she commented, "That will make you the senior officer in charge, Commander Tucker.  Please remember that for the entire week as you are. . . making decisions on the planet."

Trip pouted slightly before remarking cheekily, "I'll watch where I put my paws, T'Pol, don't worry."

T'Pol arched an eyebrow in response. She noted that before the eyebrow had completed its elevation, the man's pout transgressed into a smirk.  "That would be wise, Commander, as there will be no Dorothy to look out for you on the planet's surface," she retorted. Vaguely aware of the startled glances they were receiving from Lieutenant Reed and Captain Archer, T'Pol allowed herself to be contented with the fall of Commander Tucker's smirk.  

"I guess I'll just have to hope for a good witch to look out for me then, huh?" Trip retorted,  placing his hands on his hips with slight irritation.

T'Pol responded by crossing her own arms in front of her.  "I should certainly hope your activities on the planet would keep you occupied enough that you will not have time to search for any additional laps to visit," she answered icily.  In fact, it was perhaps more icily than was proper for a Vulcan. 

Commander Tucker had the grace to look shocked.  Perhaps sensing the direness of the Commander's situation, Archer interjected, "As much as I hate to interrupt this conversation, the team has to leave now, or we'll be stuck here an extra two weeks.  Trip, behave, and make sure you check in once every six hours."

After giving assurances to his capability of following orders, Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed entered Shuttle pods One and Two with their respective crews. T'Pol followed Archer to the turbolift silently.  She remembered a time when the captain would have kept up a steady banter, and briefly lamented that the time had passed.  Though she had never reciprocated the captain's inappropriate affection, she had considered him a friend.  That relationship had been a casualty of the Xindi conflict, as much as the seven million dead Humans. 

Remembering her chastisement of Commander Tucker for what she had believed to be inaction in his dealings with the captain, T'Pol decided upon a proactive course and questioned, "Captain, have you been to Florida?"

Somewhat surprised by her questioning, Archer nodded. "Yes, I have. I've had the privilege of attending a Tucker family gathering three times, as a matter of fact."

Forcing herself to remember that jealousy was an emotion improper for Vulcans, T'Pol asked, "Did you find the temperature unduly warm?"

If Archer wondered about his first officer's line of questioning, he didn't show it. "I'm from California.  Both are known for year round summers," he answered.  "Both are pretty warm, but having been to Vulcan, I can safely say you wouldn't find it 'unduly warm' at all.  You might find it quite comfortable, in fact."

T'Pol supposed that she would as well.  She did not choose to dwell upon the fact that her comfort would have little to do with the region's temperature. The rest of the turbolift ride continued in silence and T'Pol again turned her thoughts to the change in the Captain's demeanor that was so evident by his lack of conversation. 

When they arrived to the bridge, Ensign Sato ended any concern T'Pol had towards Archer's change in character with one sentence: "T'Pol, we've just received an encrypted message from Vulcan."

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

To Be Continued. . . 


	4. Happy Little Bluebirds Fly

To Have Learned Nothing At All 

Part 4: Happy Little Bluebirds Fly 

A/N: Again, multiple thanks go to my fab betas: K. Phillips and HopefulNebula for again whipping this one into shape.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

T'Pol chose to remain on the bridge. The message would wait until her shift was up, she reasoned.  As she told the Captain, "Two of our senior officers have left for the planet. It would not be wise of me to abandon my post for frivolous reasons at this point in time."

If Archer sensed any alternative motive behind her reticence, he chose to keep it to himself.  Patiently, they both waited for communication from the landing party.  They did not have to wait long.

"Tucker to Enterprise."

"Go ahead, Trip," Archer responded.

"We landed fine, Cap'n.  The sewage system problem's really just an overgrown leak. Malcolm says the security system's a bit more complicated, but I'll probably finish up early, and be able to give him a hand.  Either way, we should be just about wrapped up by the time the little storm passes."

"Please be advised that the ion distortions will produce a storm far above a magnitude appropriate to be labeled 'little'," T'Pol interrupted.  "In addition, it shall cause excessive havoc upon the surface of the planet.  It would be wise for you to be indoors at all times."

A chuckle came over the comm. line which severely threatened T'Pol's Vulcan veneer of calm.  When Trip regained his ability to speak, he remarked, "Careful, T'Pol, someone'll think ya care."

"I have a great deal of quite logical concern for the safety of the chief engineer and tactical officer of the Enterprise. We are still approximately forty light years away from Earth.  A vast number of problems could occur before reaching that destination which would require your services."  She did not notice the pause before she added, "Or Lieutenant Reed's."

The intolerable chuckle returned. " 'Course, T'Pol.  Don't worry, the colony has apparently developed some practically storm-proof buildings.  Pretty much all the repair work is going to be inside, even the science crew's."

Archer took the pause in the conversation to reassert his place.  "Are there any other problems, Trip?" he asked

"None so far, Sir. Except it's damn hot down here. Malcolm and I have decided that it's hotter than Florida _and_ Malaysia," Trip responded. 

"We trust you have yet to encounter Lucifer," T'Pol responded dryly. 

She received a startled look from the Captain and T'Pol mentally chided herself for speaking so lightly over the comm. It was, of course, inappropriate.  She chose not to dwell upon the list of inappropriate actions and thoughts Commander Tucker had induced in her.  

"You and that Vulcan hearin' of yours," Trip grumbled good naturedly over the comm.  "No, I haven't seen Lucifer, but we did see something almost as scary. The official greetin' party of the planet was thirty men all dressed in well, some type of loin cloth."

The Captain laughed softly, leaving T'Pol to wonder why human males were so easily amused.  "Remember, Trip, every six hours."

"Aye, Sir.  Tucker out."

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^**************^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

When Trip disconnected the comm line and permitted himself to be escorted to the underground tunnel which housed the sewer system, he had been in a fairly good mood.  

Three hours later, in the deepest depths of the sewer, he was decidedly less happy with the state of events. True, he had on what the colonists had promised was a bio-hazard suit, but the stench of human excrement was so strong that it penetrated the protective helmet and made him long for a shower.  *_'Course, a shower won't be possible 'til this is fixed,* _he reminded himself.  Fleetingly, he felt a sting of remorse for the colonists.   *_They might be xenophobic bastards, but no one deserves to have this stuff comin' out of their shower heads.*_

What he had assumed to be a leak was really much more complex.  In an effort to correct said leak, Trip had begun a slight flood.  A mini-flood, he assured himself. The self confidence in that assumption ran dangerously low when Malcolm contacted him through the colony's communication network.  

"Trip?"

"Yeah, Malcolm – everything okay?"

"I was about to ask you the same question.  Is the . . . leak . . . under control?" The British accent held equal parts mock and concern.  Given his recent conversation with T'Pol, Trip decided for certain that Malcolm was in fact a Vulcan. He'd always had suspicions. Now they were confirmed. 

"Everything's fine on my end, Malcolm. How are the security systems lookin'?"

The pause was slight, but audible nonetheless. It added to Trip's irritation.  When Malcolm finally continued, he remarked, "The security systems are going well.  Officer Hogan has been extremely helpful."

Trip fought back the jealousy he felt at knowing that Malcolm had help. *_Stupid colonists couldn't have exiled their engineer after they fixed the sewage system, could they? And who decides to build a colony and only bring along one engineer? They have lots and lots of architects and no engineers.  Stupid, stupid colonists.*  _"That's good to hear."

"Yes.  Er. . . are you certain everything's alright, Commander? You don't need assistance?"

With an exasperated sigh, Trip retorted, "Yes, everything's fine. Why do you keep asking that?"

"Well, Trip, it's just. . . well, we can smell it, Sir." 

They were on the opposite side of the colony.  There was no way in hell they should have been smelling any flaws in the sewage system.  They hadn't been able to when Trip had first arrived.  *_Of course, given the temperatures and the addition of the flood . . . _* With a curse under his breath, Trip replied, "Well, in that case, I guess I better work a little harder. Tucker out." 

With a definite scowl, Trip slammed the comm system button a little harder than he had intended. Unfortunately, the additional force was enough to disrupt his balance and Trip fell backwards into a pile of solid evidence that he was in the main sewer line. 

"Sonofabitch," Trip cursed irritably, regardless of the fact that no one was there to hear his outburst. As he stood, he came to the unfortunate realization that he was going to have to cross over to other side of the sewer.  A gulf of liquid waste lay between him and his destination.  Such a realization caused him to utter an additional string of curses.  It did not help the situation at all, but it did make him feel slightly better.  

Protective suit aside, while he began to wade in the pool of urine, he reflected that today was one of those days when it would have been better to remain in bed.  It hadn't started out good, and was decreasing on a rapid basis. Dejectedly, he began to compose a mental list of things that had gone wrong in the past five hours.  

-The Captain had refused his invitation, again.

-He'd managed to anger T'Pol.  Again.

-Their homecoming had been diverted.  To help a group of pissed off humans. 

-He'd been assigned to sanitation duty.

-Sanitation duty meant a week away from the Enterprise, so that he couldn't apologize properly.

-Upon arriving, they'd discovered that the temperature was unbearable. 

-And now, he was knee deep in liquid waste.  

The end result was, he decided, symbolic of the day itself.  Continuing to think unhappy thoughts, he drudged himself out of the liquid. Reaching the control panel, Trip discovered it to be encapsulated in some type of metal substance which appeared to be stuck.  He again felt compelled to curse the rotten day.  Had there been any good to the day at all? 

Permitting himself the smallest of smiles, Trip's thoughts drifted back to the conversation with T'Pol during his check-in.  *_Well, maybe the whole day hasn't been complete hell, after all,*_ he reasoned.  *_After all, T'Pol _did _seem worried.*_

Nah, Vulcans didn't get worried.  Concerned.  She had definitely been concerned – even if he'd pissed her off earlier.   Immensely pleased with his ability to read Vulcans, Trip considered the fact that T'Pol had grown pretty good at reading humans as well.  Why, she had openly _teased _him over the comm line.  __

Employing a substantial amount of force, Trip was able wretch the frontal casing off of the control panel.  As soon as it came off, mounds of months old sewage, baked from the natural heat of the planet, fell onto what would have been his lap, had he been seated.  

"Goddamnit," Trip muttered.  With a sigh of both resolution and regret, he set out to finish cleaning out the control panel.   

^^^^^^^^^*********^^^^^^^^^^^

Unlike Trip, Malcolm was actually having quite an enjoyable experience.  Tanner and Luxin were working quite efficiency alongside Security Officer Hogan's staff in replacing the security interface with the changes Malcolm had suggested.  Things were proceeding so smoothly that the normally socially withdrawn armory officer agreed to have lunch with Hogan.  True, it was mostly to do with the fact that Trip was refusing to take a break, but Hogan's affable nature was a good incentive as well. 

"You'll have to call me Jack," Hogan insisted as they took their seats in the restaurant located conveniently close to their work stations. 

Perhaps it was because of Commander Tucker's influence, but Malcolm agreed to call the man that he had known for only the past six hours 'Jack.'  Opening a menu placed before him by a male server, Malcolm took note that not only was the server male, but so too was everyone in the relatively busy restaurant.  *_And they're all wearing those bloody loin cloths,* _Malcolm observed to himself.  Apparently all the men on the planet wore them with a startlingly amount of frequency.  Since the away team had arrived, Malcolm had only noticed three or four men who were not decked as scantily as their official greeting party had been.  And he hadn't seen any women on the planet at all.   "Jack, are there any women in your colony?"

"Why, of course there are," Hogan laughed delightedly, as though the concept of a colony without women was unthinkable.  

Malcolm supposed it would be.  Yet, his natural armory officer's instincts made him curious about something that appeared to be so seriously askew. "If you don't mind my asking, then, why haven't I seen any?"

Hogan frowned and crossed his arms.  "Are you looking for a mate, Reed?" 

Malcolm flushed. "NO! Of course not.  I . . . I already have one," he finished helplessly.  *_Well, of a sort.  Mackenzie and I have been quite close of late.*_

Hogan's grinned broadened.  "Well, then, as long as you aren't one of those men looking to have a girl in every port, intent on defiling the virtue of our fair ladies, I'll be happy to introduce you and your friends to some of the females tomorrow.  There aren't a lot working in the security sections, unfortunately.  Most of those who do have higher positions of authority.  They don't really do the grunt work."

Feeling a bit more relieved, Malcolm nodded. "I'll look forward to meeting them." 

Their waiter arrived again, and took their order.  As he left, Hogan turned his gaze back to Malcolm questionably. "So, Malcolm, you have quite the well known last name."

"You have heard of my family's naval background?" Malcolm asked in surprise.

"Oh, yes.  You see, I come from a naval background as well.  My father was Jerry Hogan."

Malcolm sat up in instant recognition.  "Your grandfather was David Hogan, then? The great Captain on the SeaScape?"

Hogan nodded.  "The one and only."

Their friendship sealed, Malcolm forget his earlier concerns as they lapsed into a companionable conversation. 

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

One hour later, on the bridge of the Enterprise, T'Pol was not able to forget her concerns with quite the same amount of ease as the armory officer.  It had been exactly six hours, two minutes, and thirty-six seconds since Commander Tucker's check in.  He was due- and late.  

The Captain had retired to the Command Center to work on reports an hour ago.  T'Pol briefly contemplated contacting him, but decided such an action was unnecessary.  After all, she was in command, and quite capable of taking the initiative herself.  

"Ensign Sato, please contact Commander Tucker," she instructed Hoshi.  

As the Ensign complied, T'Pol laced her fingers behind her back, chanted a mantra of Surak silently to herself, and restricted the urge to pace.  She tried to remember that Commander Tucker had the unfortunate propensity to become so engrossed in his work that it was exceedingly likely he had simply forgotten to check in.  Still, she could not help but mentally acknowledge the fact that he had been sent on a potentially dangerous mission from which he could not return or be rescued for another six days.  

His voice interrupted her musings.  "This is Tucker."  

He sounded agitated, T'Pol noted.  Indeed, his voice gave the clear indication that he had been interrupted.  Commander Tucker was unmistakably not pleased by such an event.  T'Pol, on the other hand, was quite pleased that the less grisly of her previously considered scenarios had been true.  Still, she was displeased at his lack of discipline. 

"Commander Tucker, you were late checking in by two minutes and thirty-seven seconds," T'Pol said sternly.  

"Damnit. . . " There was a pause on the other end of the comm until Trip continued with a voice that still demonstrated frustration, but also showed considerable restraint. "I apologize for not checking in, T'Pol, but I've been a bit busy."

"Your production level is not an acceptable excuse," T'Pol responded.  

An audible sigh came over the comm. and T'Pol fought back a level of concern as she inquired, "Is the situation on the planet agreeable?"

Over the comm. this time could be heard a snort.  "Yeah, T'Pol, it's agreeable enough, considering that I'm wading through a pool of human waste and it's about 39 degrees in the shade down here." 

"Are you and the away team progressing in your efforts?" T'Pol questioned, momentarily ignoring the Commander's complaints.  

"Sorry, Sub-Commander.  To be official – everything's proceedin' fine down here.   Malcolm checked in a half an hour ago and repairs are proceedin' real smooth for him.  Anders isn't have as much luck locatin' the source of the seismic disturbance. I should have this under control within the next six hours."

"Why is it currently not under control?" 

Another exaggerated sigh came over the line and T'Pol noted that the human expended far too much energy with such displays.  Knowing him as long as she had, however, made her certain that it was unwise to point this out. Instead, she waited patiently for the answer.  "Well, to make a long story short,  I started a flood."

Behind her, Ensign Sato did not confine a stray giggle.  In front, Ensign Mayweather's shoulders shook slightly with uncontained laughter.  T'Pol had been amongst humans long enough to understand the source of the amusement.  "Given your location, I imagine the temperature of the planet did not make the flood a pleasant experience."

"No, T'Pol.  Wading knee-deep in human waste that smells like a pig pen when it's hotter than hell isn't pleasant.  It isn't _pleasant_ at all."

"You _are _taking the proper precautions to avoid illness?" 

"Yes, T'Pol. I've got the suit, complete with helmet." 

"I am certain your experience will improve."

"Thank you, Sub-Commander.  I'll be sure to check in _on time _next time."

"Make certain you do.  Enterprise out."

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

To Be Continued. . . 


	5. Because of the Wonderful Things He Does?

To Have Learned Nothing At All

Part 5: _Because of the Wonderful Things He Does?_

Spoilers: teeny tiny for Rajiin_. _

As always, thanks to my betas, HopefulNebula and K.Phillips for whipping this into shape and rounding up stray apostrophes and hyphenations.  As well as strange characterizations.

A/N:  Please take note that the Vulcan heart is located where our liver is and that this story's genre has been changed to Romance/Angst when it was originally Romance/General. Archivers may wish to take note of that as well.  Sorry, but as I have stated before, my muse is a cranky witch. 

*********

By the time the evening meal had come to Enterprise, T'Pol still had not read her message from Vulcan.  As she headed toward the Mess Hall, however, she inwardly chastised this new tendency towards procrastination. *_How many other human qualities have I begun to acquire?*_

*_Personal messages do not require my immediate attention.*  _T'Pol tried to console herself. 

Being honest with herself, however, required T'Pol to recall that she had conveniently disregarded the potential importance of the message since Ensign Sato had informed her that it had been sent specifically for her.  

Pledging to end her procrastination streak as soon as she had consumed the evening meal, T'Pol scanned the Mess Hall for an appropriate place to sit.  Although she did not want to eat alone, her typical meal companion was absent and the Captain was again too busy with reports to take a break.  It was unfortunate that the Captain did not desire company for his meals any longer.  However, T'Pol made certain by checking the logs that he had eaten.  In addition, Dr. Phlox had assured her that although the Captain had lost weight recently, he was not malnourished nor in any danger of starving. Such reassurances had satisfied T'Pol and pacified Commander Tucker. 

Spotting a small, empty table near the back of the Mess Hall, T'Pol made her way over and sat down.  As she focused on her food and allowed her thoughts to dwell upon the potential contents of her message from home, she momentarily blocked out the human interactions around her.  Her ability to block effectively was halted by the obscenely loud conversation between Hoshi and Mackenzie. ****

"Ensign Sato, would you like to sit with me?" Mackenzie suggested. 

"Well, actually, I  . .  . have another dinner appointment," Hoshi told the blond MACO. 

*_If Ensign Sato's tone and degree of hesitation are any indication, she has just related a falsehood,* _T'Pol noted quietly to herself.  

"With who?" 

*_With whom,*_ T'Pol corrected silently.  Ensign Sato was not as silent with her correction. 

"That's too bad.  I just thought it would be nice to get to know some of Malcolm's friends a little better, Ensign." 

*_Her reasoning is most logical.  Evidently, Ensign Sato disagrees.*  _T'Pol based her analysis on the clenching of Hoshi's fists at her side. T'Pol determined it was time to intervene. Although the MACO was certainly capable of defending herself, T'Pol did not relish the idea of placing Ensign Sato in the brig for striking a fellow crewmate. 

"Ensign Sato." 

At the sound of  T'Pol's voice, both Mackenzie and Hoshi turned their heads in the science officer's direction.  They wore equally surprised expressions upon their faces, but T'Pol's sharp gaze also detected a hint of relief upon Hoshi's face.  "Yes, T'Pol?" Hoshi questioned.  

*_Her fists are beginning to unclench.  I am clearly proceeding in the right direction.*  _"I have been waiting for my evening meal companion for fifteen minutes and thirty two seconds.  I would appreciate an end to my wait."

A look of definite surprise crossed Hoshi's face.  It was quickly followed by a triumphant smirk as she turned to look at Mackenzie.  "I'm sorry, Mackenzie, but T'Pol and I have urgent ship's business to discuss.  I'm sure you and I can eat together. . . some other time." 

T'Pol doubted that Hoshi would allow that to happen, but said nothing as Mackenzie turned and walked away.  

Hoshi sat down across from T'Pol and smiled brightly at her.  "Thank you, T'Pol.  I owe you one."

"You owe me nothing.  I simply took the logical path to prevent you from striking a crewmate," T'Pol maintained. 

"Oh.  Um. . . do you want me to go, then?" Hoshi asked, beginning to rise.

"No.  My actions may have been a preemptive measure; regardless, my words were true."  _*Entirely too true.  Having companions for the essential task of food consumption is not necessary.  How shall I be able to readjust to a Vulcan life of solitude after I am recalled to Vulcan to be punished for my insubordination?*_

_*Perhaps I shall not have to make such an adjustment.  Perhaps the Vulcan High Command has foregone pretense and banished me from the planet.*_

T'Pol was not certain which would be worse. 

Not wanting to dwell upon such matters yet, T'Pol forced her attention back to Ensign Sato.  Hoshi had sat back down and was currently pretending to eat. Over the course of the mission, T'Pol had seen such a symptom numerous times in Commander Tucker, whenever he was experiencing great emotional distress. 

Given her earlier conversation with Mackenzie, T'Pol deduced the problem easily. "You did not seem anxious to sit with-"

"_Mackenzie?" _Hoshi spat.  "Oh, gee, T'Pol, I don't know why I wouldn't be anxious to sit with _Mackenzie.  _She's _wonderful." _

"You are employing sarcasm," T'Pol stated with certainty.  She was able to deduce the Ensign's motives by noting the savage manner in which the other woman speared her vegetables.  

Hoshi slumped in her seat.  "Yeah, T'Pol, sorry.  I know Vulcans probably don't appreciate sarcasm."  Although she professed her apology, the linguist did not stop the unnecessarily hostile actions upon her food. 

*_I appreciate more than you realize,*_  T'Pol answered mentally.  T'Pol questioned, "I understand the concept of sarcasm, Ensign. I do not understand why you hold such dislike towards someone who is Lieutenant Reed's friend.  I had believed that you and the Lieutenant were friends."  

T'Pol watched in fascination as the other woman increased her attack upon her food. *_If she continues for a prolonged period, the carrots would require a scientific scan in order to be recognizable.*  _

"Oh, we're _friends, _alright," Hoshi answered bitterly. 

T'Pol was not certain whether or not that statement had held sarcasm.  Thus, she waited instead for the other woman to elaborate.  She was not disappointed. 

"I don't suppose Vulcans ever get jealous," Hoshi finally remarked wistfully. 

Images of the Enterprise's missions prior to the Expanse immediately came to mind, but T'Pol resisted the urge to dwell upon them.  "Jealousy is an emotion," she answered evasively. 

"Of course," Hoshi muttered. 

Seeing that her previous response had not accomplished the intended goal, she added, "However, living amongst humans has made me understand the concept." 

It was not, strictly speaking, a lie.

Hoshi smiled slightly and shook her head. "I suppose living with us and our emotions must drive you crazy."

T'Pol suppressed a memory of a time when she had been certain her sanity would leave her. But the event had been linked to Trellium-D, not humans, and was best left behind her, along with the Expanse. Ignoring the shiver that threatened to overtake her, T'Pol reminded herself that Vulcans do not dwell upon emotional matters, regardless of how unfortunate they might be.  "Your emotions have not threatened my sanity."  At Hoshi's smile, T'Pol continued, "Illogically, I have found human emotions to have a purpose within your society."

Hoshi looked at her with interest. "Really? I never thought I'd hear a Vulcan say that." 

*_Nor did I ever expect to hear myself say such a phrase.*  _"Humans' differing emotions help to define their characters.  While it is not always a pleasant experience, it is not without merit in your society, even if they do not hold the same merit in Vulcan society." 

T'Pol was pleased to discover that Hoshi had ceased to batter her vegetables.  Surprisingly, however, the Ensign leaned forward at T'Pol's last comment.  "Then wouldn't you agree that if a human is going to love someone, they should love them for the very emotions that define their character?"  

"That would be a logical course of action," T'Pol agreed.  

Hoshi gave a snort of disgust, and went back to unconstructive mauling of her carrots.  "Since when is love ever logical?"

"Given that it is a human condition, logic would be a rare employment,"  T'Pol conceded. "However, I presume your question to mean that you do not believe Lieutenant Reed's relationship is an appropriate match?"

"No!" Hoshi said with a bit more force than she had possibly intended.  Her outburst gathered some curious looks from fellow patrons in the Mess Hall, causing the Ensign to blush brightly. 

T'Pol ignored both events.  "Why do you believe his choice in romantic partners to be in error?"  The carrots, she noted, were a near liquid state.

"Because she brings out all the wrong traits in Malcolm," Hoshi said forcefully.  

"I have not detected any noticeable change in the Lieutenant that could be described as negative," T'Pol argued, confused.

Hoshi shook her head.  "No, that's not what I meant.  I meant . . . well, she wants Malcolm because she thinks he's tough, strong, and durable."

T'Pol cocked her head to indicate her confusion. "Are those not traits you attribute to Lieutenant Reed?"  

"Of course I do," Hoshi assured T'Pol. "Malcolm is all of those things. But he also has vulnerabilities and weaknesses that help define his character – and Mackenziedoesn't know Malcolm the sweet or Malcolm the gentle.  She only knows Malcolm the tough."

"What reason do you have to believe this?" 

Hoshi scowled in a most uncharacteristically childish manner.  "Part of my training as a linguist involved observing all types of interpersonal communications, T'Pol. When they are together, Malcolm _acts _differently." 

"I see," T'Pol said.  *_An understatement at best.* _The thought of returning home to Vulcan to take a traditional male Vulcan as her mate threatened T'Pol's calm. She knew, undoubtedly, that she could never be bonded to one who employed the strictest of logic and who viewed humans as inferior. _"_You believe you could be a better mate for Lieutenant Reed?" *_Such would explain her jealousy.*_

Hoshi did not immediately answer, but the additional shade of red that possessed the Ensign's features was enough of an indication for T'Pol that she had been correct in her assessment.  "Is Ensign Mayweather aware of your affection for the Lieutenant?" 

Hoshi shrugged. "Why should what Travis thinks about-" her mid-sentence pause gave her mouth time to react to her brain's digestion of T'Pol's insinuation.  "Oh-NO! Travis and I are not a couple, T'Pol. He's just a good friend, regardless of what the Rumor Mill might say."

A gentle memory caressed the forefront of T'Pol's consciousness at the mention of a Rumor Mill. 

****^^^^^^^^****

_ "You know, I really need to talk to you about something." _

_ "Is there a problem?" _

_"No, no, no, no, I mean, uh. . . this feels great. And I really appreciate you taking the time, it's just. . .well, I'm not sure we should be doing it anymore." _

_"You said this was helping you sleep." _

_"It has." _

_"Then why do you want to stop?" _

_"People are talking. About us. About. . . me coming to your quarters at night. . . they think there is more going on than neuro-pressure." _

_"And that disturbs you?" _

_"It shouldn't, I know but. . . Malcolm and I were purging the clogged injector assembly last week and he asked me why I didn't just massage it with my magic fingers." _

_"I see no reason to be concerned with idle gossip." _

_"It doesn't bother you?" _

_"We're both senior officers. If we were pursuing a romantic relationship, it wouldn't be Lt Reed's concern, would it?" _

_ "I suppose not." _

***^^^^^^^^****

T'Pol's comments had seemingly put the commander at ease, as he had continued to grace her with his presence with minimal coercion required. __

"Of course," Hoshi continued, "Travis and I aren't the hottest topic on the Rumor Mill." The sly smile that the Ensign tossed her way confirmed T'Pol's suspicion that the "hottest topic" involved herself and Commander Tucker. 

T'Pol was overcome with the urge to return to her quarters and retrieve her message. *_Have I also acquired the human tendency to ignore unpleasant realities?* _

"As you implied, Ensign, the Rumor Mill is not a reliable source for factual information," she stated finally.  "It is therefore unwise to partake in such a forum, either as participant or spectator."  

Although Hoshi nodded solemnly, T'Pol noted the twinkle in the other woman's eyes and the smile she unsuccessfully tried to keep hidden as she pressed her lips together. *_Ensign Sato would make an inefficient Vulcan,* _she noted. *_Her abilities to suppress inappropriate emotions are woefully inadequate.*  _

"I must go, Ensign.  May your interpersonal relationship with Lieutenant Reed progress in the manner you desire."

Hoshi gave in to the smile that had threatened to overtake her features. "Thanks, T'Pol. Good luck with Trip, too."

T'Pol arched an eyebrow innocently and responded, "Vulcans do not believe in luck, Ensign." 

The other woman's laughter followed T'Pol as she made her exit from the Mess Hall. *_I am pleased that her mood has lightened, even if I can find no basis for the humor she finds in my relationship with Commander Tucker.*  _

****^^^^^^^^****

Alone in her quarters, T'Pol did not share the light mood of Ensign Sato. 

For the sixty-eight point two minutes that T'Pol hesitated before downloading her message, she contemplated the possible outcomes.  She was ninety-eight percent certain that the bearer of the message would be Soval, although there was the stray possibility that it was her family, or a more neutral member of High Command contacting her.  Regardless of the message bearer, T'Pol was nearly certain the message would serve to illustrate displeasure with her decision to accompany the Enterprise into the Expanse. 

Reminding herself that anxiety was a human emotion, she leaned forward and downloaded the message.  The message was not a statistical anomaly.  Soval's face did indeed grace her screen.  T'Pol was pleased she was alone as she felt her breath quicken illogically.  In a vain attempt to regain the control she had lost, T'Pol clasped her hands together tightly.   

"T'Pol, as I send this message, I assume that you have some foreknowledge as to the reason I am contacting you. That is presuming that you have not completely abandoned logic.  Given your last contact with the High Command, I realize that presumption may be unfounded."

T'Pol's nails dug firmly into her olive skin as the battle for control became increasingly harder to win.

"It is because of your last contact with High Command that I am contacting you now.  If you still possess the ability to think logically, you know that you are still subject to Vulcan law, as is anyone who holds a public position within our society."

*_I am aware of that.  Vulcans such as Tolaris may roam the galaxy and infringe upon personal boundaries without punishment from our government. Yet, because I was a representative of our people, my helping the humans may lead to censure.*_

_"_You may be pleased to know that the High Command has decided against formal discipline.   The alternative would ordinarily mean exile from our home world. This is the route I am in favor of, as you have proven yourself to be incapable of following the path of logic.  Such proof became unarguable once you chose to help the Humans with their hostile aggression towards the Xindi."

T'Pol felt a warm fluid began to flow in the palm of her hands. She did not glance down to confirm it was the blood she believed it to be.  She made no effort to loosen her grip. 

"However, in the Enterprise's absence, the ties between Earth and Vulcan have grown considerably stronger. There are many in High Command who believe you should not be censured in any capacity. T'Pau is amongst these, so you are aware that you have powerful allies."

*_But you are not among them.*_

"While you may escape the embarrassment of public censure, T'Pol, and may indeed be unduly rewarded for your illogic, I urge you to return to our planet of your own volition. Your actions regarding the Expanse have proven that your time with humans has contaminated you, as you have consistently placed feeling and emotion above logic and sense."

*_Indeed? Does logic and sense dictate callousness? Did Surak himself not say, "We have differences. May we, together, become greater than the sum of both of us?" * _T'Pol forced aside the burgeoning anger at Soval's words.  __

"I expected more from you, T'Pol."

The last words from her mentor should not have had the ability to cause such discord. Where was the logic in such disharmony when the final result of the High Council's decision was not yet known? *_Perhaps my response to his message is proof of the validity of his claims.*_

*_Yet it is not anxiety alone that causes me discomfort,*  _she acknowledged.  The sensations of resentment that T'Pol had known when Soval had attempted to prevent her from accompanying the Enterprise to the Expanse resurfaced.  *_Soval and his ilk do not respect the ideology of IDIC.  There can be no infinite diversity in their interpretation of Human-Vulcan relationships.  Yet they have the audacity to claim I have abandoned the path of Surak?*_

Taking a deep breath, T'Pol tried to steady to steady the emotional onslaught she was experiencing.  *_Anger is an emotion.  It is inappropriate to indulge in such a sensation.*_

Shaking her head, T'Pol rose to fetch her meditation candles, although she firmly believed that meditation would not come to her tonight.  Nor would sleep.  *_It is fortunate that Vulcans can go with little sleep.*_

As T'Pol reached for the meditation candles, her eyes spied the dried green fluid that ran in a short line from her palm to her wrists.  Stopping to trace the fluid's path, T'Pol contemplated the possible symbolism inherent in the abrupt end of the blood flow.  

*_I have become undeniably sentimental. Soval was correct.*_

Sitting down to meditate, T'Pol became aware of another sensation even stronger than sentimentality. She was unable to correctly identify it,  yet it was undeniably emotional . . . in part_. _ She was more acutely aware of her solitude than she had been before.  Causing T'Pol concern was the fact that her solitude caused her considerable distress – very similarly to the sensation she had experienced in the Mess Hall.  *_Yet infinitely stronger.*  _ 

The sensation- *_Should I classify it as an emotion?*- _was also providing T'Pol with considerable physical discomfort.  Her breathing refused to steady and a dull ache extended from her lungs down to where her heart settled above her intestines. Additionally, despite T'Pol's efforts, she found herself unable to fully relax. Her body insisted on remaining rigid, most notably within her upper torso.  

It was a sensation stronger than it should have been, even given the contents of Soval's message.  

Taking a deep breath, T'Pol leaned forward to light her candles.  Sternly, she reminded herself that meditation was not a time to indulge in emotional sentiment. Besides, there was no logical reason for the sensation she was experiencing. 

*_And I am still a Vulcan. Regardless of what Soval may think.*_

She continued to believe that, even as she found it near impossible to focus on the flame in front of her. 

***

To Be Continued. . . 


	6. The Dreams that We Dare to Dream

To Have Learned Nothing At All

Chapter 6: _The Dreams That We Dare To Dream _

Spoilers: Teeney tiny for "Impulse."

As always, thanks to my betas, HopefulNebula and K.Phillips.  

****^^^^^^^^^^****

Sleep came to T'Pol with more ease than she had expected. Her sleep was an uneasy one, however, and interrupted often by nightmares caused by sensations she had been unable to purge during meditation.

~ ~ ~

T'Pol stood in an area she had never been to before, and recognized only from geographic text book descriptions.  She stood knee-deep in murky warm water, surrounded by plants of varying heights, some growing from the water, others along the shore. Tall cypress and black gum trees blocked much of the sunlight, casting a dark shadow over the Vulcan. The location was a swamp, specific to the southeastern portion of the United States on Earth.  

Not understanding why she was standing in the swamp, T'Pol began to head towards the shore. As she walked, the water began to rise instead of receding. Distantly, T'Pol heard the low croaking of a frog that appeared to get closer and yet abruptly stopped.  Growing concerned, T'Pol began to search the surrounding area for the creature.  It had been so close – surely it wouldn't simply cease making sound unless there was a sufficient reason? 

Her search grew progressively frantic until it was interrupted by the distinct sound of a flock of birds flying above her.  There were so many and they seemed to be fleeing. . . perhaps from the same threat as had overtaken the frog? 

Determined to exit the swamp as quickly as possible, T'Pol took another step forward and felt the water rise again, this time reaching her knee.  Her attention was quickly averted from the rising water level as a familiar Vulcan voice called to her.  

Turning, her gaze fell upon Koss.  It was, of course, an estimation of what his adult self would look like, as T'Pol had not seen him since childhood. Dressed in the traditional ceremonial sash of a Vulcan wedding, Koss beckoned to her with one hand while his other held firmly a copy of the _Complete Teachings of Surak. _The water around Koss came only to his ankles.  

Refusing his proffered hand, T'Pol took a step in the direction to his left. The water became shallower, but she was again stopped by the image of Vanik. He too stood in shallower water than T'Pol and also offered his hand.  

Stepping left yet again, she was confronted by the smiling face of Tolaris.  Unprepared for such an unexpected and unwelcome surprise, T'Pol took a step backwards rapidly.   She backed into a vine which appeared to T'Pol to have no origins and she jerked away from the unpleasant plant.  Her actions turned out to be too rapid, as she quickly lost her footing. Still in the deeper water, she found herself flailing in an attempt to regain her balance.  

Strong hands grasped hers and pulled her towards the shallow end of the swamp.  When her panic dissipated, she realized her savior to be Solin, the former chief engineer of the Seleya. His face was not as T'Pol remembered fondly, but rather twisted and mutated from the effects of the Trellium-D. 

Overcome with decidedly un-Vulcan terror, T'Pol jerked away from from Solin and took two large steps backwards.   The swamp water became irrationally deeper, as it now came to her hips.  In the foreground came a low growl T'Pol did not recognize but knew instinctively to be threatening. 

"T'Pol, that path is illogical," scolded the voice of her mentor.  

Soval manifested beside Solin. Although he wore a look of stern disapproval, he too held a hand.  

T'Pol surveyed the Vulcans before her with a sensation of loss. All of them offered her their hand to help her reach the shore, yet she did not wish for any of their assistance. Regardless, she _had _to proceed to that side of the shore, as the water was too deep on her side.  

Glancing momentarily downward, T'Pol noticed organic debris beginning to gather around her.  Bits of bark, dead leaves, and matted fur were closing in on her at an increasingly rapid rate.  T'Pol reached down to push them away, only to find that the more she pushed them away, the quicker and thicker the mass returned.  

A distinct hissing sound- one she recognized to belong to a snake- forced her gaze up and away from the debris surrounding her waist.  Although she could not identify the snake, Koss, Vanik, Tolaris, Solin, and Soval took a step closer, and began forming a circle.  T'Pol's options were running precariously low. She could step forward, take the hand of one she did wish to hold, or she could attempt to make it to the _other _shore. The likelihood of the latter plan succeeding, however, was not high. Coming from a desert planet, T'Pol had never taken the time to learn to swim.  

Regardless, T'Pol turned her gaze towards the shore opposite of her fellow Vulcans and was relieved to discover five hands outreached towards her. Captain Archer, Dr. Phlox, Lieutenant Reed, Ensign Sato, and Ensign Mayweather all stood together, holding out their hands and beckoning her to follow them.  To reach them, however, she would need to cross the gulf of deeper water. Behind them stood a deer, nibbling quietly on the grass and gazing at T'Pol quizzically.  

T'Pol glanced from one Enterprise crew member to another and then back towards the opposite shore.  *_If I go with the Vulcans, the path is safer, but less desirable. To go with the Humans, the path is more dangerous, but also holds a more desirable outcome.*  _

As she pondered her choice, she became aware of a presence standing beside her.  Turning her head slightly, she acknowledged Surak.  

"You are troubled, T'Pol?"

"Which path should I chose?"

"You have weighed the options?"

"Yes."

"Then whatever path you chose, I shall go with you."

"Thank you, Surak."

"Be advised, T'Pol, that if you chose unwisely, I shall suffer the same unfortunate fate as you.  Take my hand, but remember, I do not know how to swim either." 

Taking Surak's hand, T'Pol gave one last look towards Koss, Vanik, Tolaris, Solin, and Soval before turning back towards the Enterprise crew.  Her decision made, she looked for the crew member she had grown to trust the most during their time together.

He was not standing beside the others.  

*_Where is Commander Tucker?*  _The overwhelming sensations of fear and confusion meshed and compelled T'Pol to call out to him, "Charles!" 

The familiar sensation that had overcame her as she received Soval's message returned.  Sensing her hesitation, Surak spoke again.

"We cannot stay here, T'Pol.  The water is rising. If we remain, we shall both drown." 

~ ~ ~ 

T'Pol awoke with a start. 

*_An entirely illogical and irrational dream,*  _she mentally scolded herself. *_Surak would not-could not-ever be in a swamp on Earth.  Nor should I have grouped Tolaris and Soval together.  Their motivations were  utterly different.*_

Still, it was not the inherent illogic of the dream that disturbed T'Pol the most.  The main disruptor of her calm was the end. Commander Tucker had been gone for only a day. There was no reason she should notice his loss that strongly. *_Unless. . . *_

_*No.  It simply is not possible.* _ After all, their touching had not been that extensive. *_Even if it had, Commander Tucker is a Human, not a Vulcan, and therefore not a telepath of any sort.*_

Logic aside, T'Pol could not shake the distress his absence had caused her.  The physical and mental experiences that had plagued her during the previous day were returning with renewed vigor.  *_It is to be expected.  I did not achieve meditation.*  _

Not entirely pacified by her deductions, T'Pol sought solace in the fact that Vulcans required little sleep and rose.  She was determined to be productive in the absence of sleep.  

****^^^^^^^^^^****

To Be Continued. . . 

A/N:  See? I told you there was a plot unrelated to _The Wizard of Oz_. ;) 


	7. Away Below the Chimney Tops

To Have Learned Nothing At All Chapter Seven: Away Below the Chimney Tops 

As always, thanks to my fab betas: K.Phillips and HopefulNebula. 

A/N: Remember this story? Still crawling along. . . I do apologize for the slow pace.  But apparently that's how my longer stories want to be written. Bah. 

~~~

The Enterprise team had been on the planet for four days out of their designated seven when Malcolm's team had completed their work.  Although the lieutenant was exceedingly pleased, he had no plans on relaxing.  A bit of guilt was felt by Malcolm for the amount of work he had ended up doing in comparison to that of Commander Tucker.  Contrary to their opinions when they had first arrived, Reed's team had ended up with a lighter load along with a larger team.  Commander Tucker, on the other hand, had a much larger problem than a tiny "leak." 

Thus, rather than enjoying three days of well deserved shore leave, as he had instructed Tanner and Luxin to do, Malcolm was going to assist Commander Tucker. 

"Are you sure you won't take a break, Malcolm?" Hogan asked. 

Malcolm shook his head.  "I can't.  I need to help the Commander."

Hogan beamed at him and then shook his head. "Such dedication is admirable, Malcolm.  You're a good man. I hope I have the chance to show you around our colony before you leave; I'd love the chance to try to convince you to stay.  We could certainly use someone like you."

Malcolm surveyed the man's attire and mentally wondered if he could live in a place where his only clothing was a loin cloth, even if circumstances were different. "I hope to take you up on your tour before we leave.  But Enterprise is my home."

Hogan chuckled.  "Dedicated and loyal.  Come then, Malcolm, I'll walk with you to find Commander Tucker.   I would like to thank him personally for fixing our side of the colony's showers first." 

*_Oh, I'm sure he'll appreciate that while he's still working on the other side's plumbing systems,* _ Malcolm thought inwardly.  To his companion, he answered only, "That would be splendid."

Having been on the planet for a week working on the security system, Malcolm had a good sense of where things were located.  Hence, he knew that Hogan insisted on giving him the scenic route to their destination.  *_He doesn't take no very well, does he?*_  Malcolm was more than slightly irritated by Hogan's stubbornness, but the lieutenant allowed the incident to slide.  After all, he reasoned, the man had good intentions. 

As they walked, Malcolm was struck by the dual efficiency and beauty with which the colonists had built their community.  Such frequent ionic disruptions had forced them to construct homes and businesses that looked starkly different from Earth's architecturally. As a result, the architectural style gave a distinct foreign look to the human colony.  *_Slightly ironic, given their determination to keep humanity untouched by alien civilizations.*_

Bypassing women as they walked, Malcolm was initially surprised to discover that their garments covered a great deal more skin than that of Hogan or their greeting party.  The ankle length white dresses appeared to flow in an unrestrictive manner, but their high necks and wrist length material appeared exceedingly uncomfortable and stood in direct contrast to the loin clothes worn by the men that had greeted Malcolm thus far.  As he contemplated mentioning it, however, he began passing other men who, although not clothed as extensively as Malcolm was, nonetheless wore substantially more than Hogan and company had worn.  

Walking along the insulated tunnel, the armory officer surveyed the advancement of the civilization and marveled at its beauty.  *_There are few places on Earth as beautiful as this,*_ Malcolm acknowledged.  *_It's almost understandable that they left Earth to build such a place.*_

But Malcolm didn't believe in paradises.  Unquestionably, given the number of problems the Enterprise crew had been called upon to fix, as beautiful as the underground colony was, the colonists were certainly paying the price for it. 

^^^^^^^^^^************^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

*_I hate this damn colony,*_ Trip decided. 

Given that his conditions had improved little over the past four days, it was perhaps understandable that he felt that way. Considering his thoughts when Malcolm had informed him of the completion of the security system, perhaps the thoughts were _more _than a *tad* maudlin. Nonetheless, Trip allowed himself to wallow in his self-pity, even as he worked harder on the system. 

In theory, that wasn't entirely true. The waste was not as deep as it had been and the flood had been stopped. *_And three-fourths_**_of the colony has plumbing that works correctly.*_**

*But only three-fourths.* 

But the initial problem still remained and unless Trip could figure out _why _the back-up systems weren't working, there would likely be future floods.  A tiny, sadistic portion of Trip's brain pointed out that such an arrangement was only fair. If he had to suffer, why shouldn't future engineers? 

*_Because no one else is subjected to such embarrassment,*  _Trip thought self-pityingly to himself. The last four days without sleep and primarily wading around in human waste had made Trip a tad maudlin. *_Actually, that's not true. I've been sleeping. Just having some crazy nightmares.* _ 

To make matters worse, of course, Trip was working against the clock.  According to the reports they'd gathered when they first arrived, the seismic activity would begin almost immediately after the ion storms let up.  *_And I certainly don't want to be underground when the Earthquakes start, now do I?*  _That would be bad. Very, very bad. 

Trip's thoughts were decidedly up-lifted when he heard a warmly familiar voice say, "Do you require assistance, Commander Tucker?" 

Turning to face Malcolm, Trip crossed his arms and feigned sternness that wouldn't work with the stubborn lieutenant anyway. "Didn't I tell you to take a break, Lieutenant?" he demanded. 

Malcolm pursed his lips before nodding slowly. "Yes, Commander, you did.  However, a certain peculiar smell kept interrupting my shore leave so I decided to investigate."

Trip's face fell.  "You can still smell it on the other side of the colony?" 

Malcolm chuckled softly and shook his head.  The man beside Malcolm, meanwhile, laughed loudly and Trip turned to look at him curiously.  "No, no, Commander Tucker.  The other side of the colony smells like roses, even if this side is a bit. . . foul."

"Putrid," Malcolm suggested, which earned him a glare from Trip. 

"Well, I'll leave you gentlemen to your work, but I just wanted the chance to thank you, Commander, for all that you have done for our colony so far," the blond haired man beside Malcolm said. 

"You're certainly, welcome, Mr. . . . ?"

"Hogan. Call me Jack."  

"Well, you're certainly welcome, Jack, but it's a long way from being done," Trip told Hogan ruefully. 

"If you are anywhere near as dedicated as Malcolm, I'm sure you'll get to the bottom of it," Hogan replied.  "I'll see you later, gentleman. And Malcolm, if you finish in time, I'll be happy to give both you and Commander Tucker that tour."

Trip waited for Hogan to be gone completely before he turned to look at Malcolm skeptically.  "If I'm anywhere near as dedicated as you?" he repeated. "What exactly have you and loincloth boy been doing the past four days?"

"Working," Malcolm replied calmly. "That _is _how we finished our task, remember?  Now, what do you need me to do?"

"Dig."

"What?" 

Trip sighed. "There's a power grid underneath that pile of shit, Malcolm," he said tiredly as he motioned to the pile in front of them. "I need access to it.  Don't worry, the colonists gave me plenty of supplies.  I'll get you a shovel." 

Malcolm wrinkled his nose in disgust, but took the offered tool silently from Trip. 

^^^^^^^^^^*************^^^^^^^^

"Mal?"

"Yes, Trip?" 

"Thanks for helping me.  I'm sorry I was  . . . cranky before."  

"You don't have to thank me for helping you, Trip."

"All the same, I'm sorry I was cranky."

Malcolm gave an undignified snort before replying. "Considering where you've been spending most of your time the last four days, I'd say a little crankiness was understandable." 

Trip scowled. "Ya aren't kiddin'." 

"Do you have any indication what's causing the disturbance, yet?"

"No.  The information I've been able to glean from the control panels have been contradictin' each other.  Each of the ten major panels appear to be workin' fine, yet the system is still backed up. Uncoverin' this grid should make a difference, as it seems to be the main source of power, but I don't know if it will." 

Malcolm looked up as if to indicate that it certainly had *better* make a difference, and he'd better not be shoveling feces for the hell of it.  "I hope so," he muttered.  

"Yeah, me too.  But this civil engineerin' business really is almost out of my range, Mal."

"I'm sure if it's fixable, you'll be able to, Commander."

Malcolm was aware of the pleased smile that crossed his friend's face, and decided that his sacrificing his own comfort – as well as that of his nasal passages – had definitely been worth it.

^^^^^^^^^^*************^^^^^^^^

The two friends worked in companionable silence for some time as they finished uncovering the grid. 

"Hmm," Trip murmured thoughtfully.  "If I'm readin' this correctly, no wonder nothing's workin' quite right.  Malcolm, I need you to monitor this thing while I work on the control panels.  Let me know if you see any change in the readings." 

Malcolm nodded and Trip made his way carefully over to the panel.  Pressing what had to be the main power switch on the panel, Trip looked at Malcolm expectantly, only to see Reed shake his head silently.  Trip walked to the other panel and again pressed the main power control.  Rewarded with yet another headshake from Malcolm, Trip continued to the third control panel.  

"Hey, Mal, can I ask you a question?" Trip asked. 

"Yes?  There's no reaction from that panel either."

Moving to the fourth, Trip contemplated how to phrase his question and still respect the privacy due to the person in question.  Vowing to be vague, he decided to throw in an added security measure. "It'll stay just between me and you, right?" he questioned before testing the panel. 

Malcolm glanced up curiously at that.  "Yes, of course.  There's no response from that panel either."

Scowling and cursing the poor bastard that had been exiled from the colony before they arrived, Trip moved to the fifth panel, taking time to ask, "So. .  . let's say, hypothetically, that there's this girl-"

"Is this girl on the Enterprise? There's no response there, either."

"Where else would she be?" Trip asked, moving to the sixth panel. 

"Well, we're heading back to Earth. You could be planning some type of welcome home rendezvous.  No response."

"Will ya quit tryin' to figure out who I'm talkin' about?"

"What exactly is the point of me listening to the story if I don't have any idea what –or who-you're talking about?"

"Why are you so stubborn? Any response?"

"Pots and kettles, my friend. And no."

"I'm not stubborn, thank you."

"You are." 

"I am not. Any response?"

"No. Are you going to finish your story, Trip, or are we going to continue playing 'yes you are', 'no I'm not'?" 

*_You started it.*_ Shaking his head, Trip acknowledged that _that _did sound distinctly childish.  *_Lack of sleep.  Four days of stupid nightmares about drowning in some damn swamp. I've grown entirely too dependent upon that neuropressure.* _ Moving to the ninth panel, he questioned, "Okay, so there's this hypothetical girl, and she hypothetically invites you to do somethin' and you assume that it's something for the whole ship to do-"

"Why do I assume that? There's no response."

"One more to go. You assume that, because well, it's something you do with a large group of people most of the time."

"Such as?" 

"Such as. . . readin' a book, for example?"

Malcolm glanced up at him skeptically. "There is no response, Commander. Since when is reading a book a group activity?"

"You know, like a book club," Trip offered, walking back over to the power grid and kneeling down beside it. "Help me get the cover off, will ya?" 

As they began to tear the top layer off, Malcolm shook his head.  "I don't know. Must be an American tradition.  Continue." 

"Well, let's say she offers to do this activity with you and you tell her that you don't think a whole lot of other people are gonna be interested.  Then she gets all pissy and says that she wasn't plannin' on invitin' anyone else, just the two of you.  What would ya take that to mean?"  

Malcolm paused long enough to give his friend another incredulous look.  "I would assume that she had been attempting to arrange . . . intimate . . . time with me and was disappointed that I hadn't agreed to it."

"So you'd take it as a date invitation, right?" The stubborn cover to the grid finally released, Trip noted the cracked tubing. "Ah.  I was right. This side of the colony has been havin' problems because none of the control panels are connected to the main power grid anymore."

"Do you believe the seismic activity caused this? And yes, I'd take it as a date invitation," Malcolm replied. 

*_Damn.  I DID screw up.*  _"I think that's a safe assumption.  The colonists did say that this side of the colony received the worst of the activity."

"Has Anders made any progress?"

"Not the last time he checked in."

Pulling out his communicator, Trip contacted the geologist. 

"I'm sorry, Commander, but I really don't have anything for you.  As you know, there hasn't been any activity since we've been down here, so I've had to rely primarily on the colonists' past recordings thus far.   This information – these patterns, I've never seen anything like it," Anders told him.

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Trip permitted his voice to demonstrate the urgency of his next words.  "Well, I don't mean to push you, Doctor, but we really need you to come up with something soon.  Whatever Malcolm and I do to repair these tubes is only going to be temporary at best unless you find someway to stop the seismic disruptions." 

The other man sighed. "I'll do my best, Commander, but this is really out of my realm of expertise. This is much more arid and sandy world than I'm used to. The Sub-Commander-"

"The Sub-Commander can't come down to investigate, so if you  need her help, you'd best be contactin' her over the communicator.  Is that clear, Anders?"  

Malcolm gave his friend a curious look at the sharpness of his tone.  He chose, perhaps wisely, to say nothing.  

"Yes, Commander.  The ion storms should be letting up tomorrow.  I should be able to get some more information in the next day or two."

"Good.  Tucker out."

Trip turned back to Malcolm and forced the scowl off his face. "The fastest starship in the fleet, Malcolm.  Is it too much to ask that we have a competent geologist?" 

Ignoring his question, Malcolm asked, "How do you intend to fix it?"

"Well, short term, it's nothin' a couple spanners won't fix.  Ya wanna take the even ones and I'll take the odd?"

"That's fine, but I wasn't really referring to the power grid," Malcolm responded, taking the offered spanner.

"I have no idea.  Any suggestions? After all, you're the one currently livin' in domestic bliss." 

To Trip's surprise, Malcolm's initial response was to snort.  *_Not exactly the response of a happily involved man, is it?*  _Sneaking an occasional concerned glance at his friend between repairing his tubes, Trip waited patiently for Malcolm's response. 

When it finally came, it was posed as a question. "Do you care about her, Trip?"

"That was the generally feelin' I was tryin' to convey, Malcolm."

"Does you want her to care about you?"

"Absolutely."  Trip surprised himself with that admission.  Even more with the ease with which it came. 

"Does she know you well?"

*_Probably better than anyone on the ship at this point.*  _After all, all of the neuropressure sessions had culminated in T'Pol being the only person he'd really felt comfortable confiding in on the ship.  Although he had been pleased to listen to Malcolm's problems, and anxious to find out what was bugging the Captain, he hadn't wanted to burden them with his own problems – even though Malcolm had assured him that it wasn't a burden; it wasn't a belief Trip could shake.  "Yeah, she knows me pretty well." ****

"The real you? Not some idealized version?"

*_What's this about?*  _"Nope, she doesn't hold an idealized view of me at all,"  he chuckled softly.  "She's well aware of _all _my faults-and she points them out to me on a frequent basis, just in case I'm in danger of forgettin' 'em."

"And she still wants you?"  Malcolm shook his head softly in wonderment. 

Trip was slightly offended. "Hey! Is there a reason she shouldn't want the real me?" 

Malcolm looked up from his tubes. "No, that's not what I meant.  I simply meant that you have something very special that you're about to permit pride to get in the way of.  I presume you know the real her as well as she knows the real you?  No illusions?"

"Yes," Trip said, acknowledging the irrational pride that swept through him at being able to say that one syllable.  *_After all, there aren't many that know the real T'Pol.*  _"And not only do I know her well, I wouldn't want her any other way."

"You know you messed up; tell her. Apologize.  Ask for her forgiveness and then ask _her _on a date." 

Trip inspected his friend's face.  "I take it your domestic bliss is in danger of collapsing. . . hypothetically speaking?"

Malcolm snorted again. "Oh, no.  Hypothetically speaking, all's well.  It's reality that's a pain in the arse." 

***^^^^^^^^^^****

To Be Continued. . . 

A/N:  The next chapter is finished and simply needs editing by moi. It should be up within the next week if anyone is interested. :) 

Feedback is good. 


	8. Cloudy Skies

To Have Learned Nothing At All

Chapter 8: Cloudy Skies 

Spoilers:  Refers to "Cogenitor" rather profusely. 

A/N:  Keep in mind, this is an A/U universe, where "Harbinger" never happened.  Trip and T'Pol returned from the Expanse with increased feelings for each other, but did not act upon them. 

As always thanks to KP and HN for the beta. ****

~~~

Shrugging out of his shirt, Trip glanced at the bed with a great deal of trepidation.  This was the fourth night he had spent on the colony and if the past three had been any indication, he was in for a rough night and little sleep.   He'd hoped that the dream with Lizzy and T'Pol would start a trend in which he would finally start to have _good _dreams for a change, but since they had left the Enterprise, the nightmares had returned.  

Not for the first time, he wondered if he had grown too dependent upon the neuro-pressure sessions. __

Sliding into bed, exhaustion overcame his overworked body and, hoping for a more peaceful sleep, Trip again fell into an uneasy slumber. 

~~~

_"Commander Tucker?"_

_"Charles?" _

_Someone was calling his name. Glancing vigorously around him, Trip was dismayed to discover the fog surrounding him, making it impossible for him to see his own hands in front of him, much less the person calling for him.  _

_The yell was getting louder, the person more frantic.  As the voice rose, Trip recognized it immediately.  _

_"Charles?" _

_It was T'Pol.  Taking a careful step forward in the fog, Trip jerked back as a tree branch scratched him across the face. _

_Jerking his hand up to wipe the blood from his face, Trip's actions were halted as T'Pol called his name out again, with renewed urgency, "Charles?!" _

_She was shouting for him.  T'Pol didn't shout. It wasn't Vulcan-like to shout. Raising his hands above his face, Trip swiped in vain at the fog in front of him, in a effort to move the offending debris out of his way, as he began to walk determinedly in the direction he assumed T'Pol was calling from.  _

_"Trip? Where are you? Why won't you answer?" T'Pol was definitely frantic now._  

Waving his hands a couple inches in front of him as he went, Trip broke into a run, determined to find her, regardless of the cost.  Several times he stumbled and fell, but he continued, his determination only increasing with each additional shout from T'Pol.  Her cries became more and more desperate- bordering on sobs. The sound of T'Pol so close to hysteria terrified Trip, and he redoubled his efforts to escape the fog.

_The fog was gone.  In __its place was green grass, a cloudless blue sky, and vivid sunlight.  There was no T'Pol.  Panic seized Trip, and he turned around quickly to head the direction he came from, certain he'd gone the wrong way._

_As he turned back towards the fog, however, he was dismayed to discover that the fog had hardened into a solid wall.  _

_Trip was trapped in the sunny paradise, separated from, and he could hear her voice no more._

~~~

Trip awoke with his heart pounding.  It took several moments of utter terror and deep breathing before he remembered where he was, and the real reason he was separated from T'Pol.

"Trip?"

Rising up on his elbows, Trip glanced towards the doorway to see a very concerned Malcolm Reed staring at him intently.  "Yeah, Malcolm?"

"I don't mean to pry, but I heard you shouting.  Are you all right?" 

Malcolm's concerned tone soothed Trip slightly, enough so that he was able to tell Malcolm that he was fine without it being too large of a lie.  

As the lieutenant turned and went back to his room, Trip couldn't help but feel envious of all the sleep the other man would be getting.  Try as he might, Trip knew sleep would not come again.  *_But then, would I want it to, considering the dreams I've been having?*_

No, Trip decided.  Definitely not.  

Glancing at the chronometer on the wall, Trip sighed as he realized that his next check-in wasn't for another five hours.  The nightmares felt so astonishingly real that Trip frequently needed a reminder that T'Pol was safe.  Happily, T'Pol had always been on the bridge when he had reported for a check in.  It made it very convenient for him to make certain she was alright.  

*_If T'Pol heard you say that, she'd call you an illogical, irrational human being,*_ Trip thought to himself.  

*_And I'd give anything to hear her say it in person right now.*_

Trip had a sneaky, illogical suspicion that it might even help with the nightmares.  __

**********^^^^^^^^^^^^***********

The next morning was the fifth day of the away team's mission, and it marked five days with five hours of sleep for T'Pol.  Typically, Vulcans could go up to two weeks with little or no sleep.  For reasons she was unable to discern, however, the five days had left her physically drained.  In addition, she was having severe difficulty controlling her mental state.  She was experiencing definite sensations of panic and distress whose presence she did not understand.  

It was for this reason that she found herself in sickbay before her shift began.  

"Hmm." Phlox murmured distractedly as he ran the scanner over her. "There are definite hormonal upswings, T'Pol, but nothing I wouldn't contribute to a considerable lack of sleep or disturbing dreams." 

"You can find nothing wrong with me?" T'Pol asked in disbelief.  *_Surely there must be something.  There must be some explanation for why I am having such difficulty with control.*_

Phlox shook his head in his characteristically cheerful manner. "No, there's nothing physically wrong with you."

"What of the Pa'Nar Syndrome?" she questioned.  "Has it shown any signs of progression?" 

"No.  On the contrary, it seems to have improved significantly since the last time you were in sickbay."  Seeing T'Pol's brows furrow in a gesture which demonstrated considerable confusion, Phlox prodded gently, "Perhaps you could describe more accurately some of the other reactions you have been having of late."

"In addition to being unable to meditate effectively, my sleep has been severely disrupted. I also have been  experiencing considerable sensations of alarm when there is no cause for it.  Such outbursts of illogical and unwanted emotions are unnecessary and counterproductive."  *_And not appropriate for a Vulcan.*_

Phlox paused before answering and T'Pol was certain she knew agitation in that moment.  Again, she could not help but wonder if Soval was correct in his assessment.  

"T'Pol, you have described yourself as having sensations of alarm and unable to sleep as well as having moments of physical discomfort which seem mostly to drain you of your energy, but have no concrete medical purpose for existing.  Is that a correct summation of your condition?"

T'Pol nodded.  

"Then in my professional medical opinion, T'Pol, you are suffering from nothing more severe than loneliness."

T'Pol mentally recoiled at the idea.  "That is impossible, Doctor."  

"T'Pol, we both know that Vulcans experience emotions as much as-"

"I do not deny the existence of such an emotion," T'Pol interjected.  "I have . . . experienced something kindred to it before.  Regardless, it did not have the same effects." 

Phlox smiled at her kindly.  "Perhaps you've never had a reason for it to be quite that strong before.  Have you had sufficient reason for such a strong experience recently?" 

"No."  Even to her own ears, the denial came too quickly, and with excessive force.

"T'Pol," Phlox said patiently, "I cannot help you if you are not more forthcoming."

Had she been human, she would have frowned at him.  Being Vulcan she could only furrow her brows and inwardly recite a mantra of Surak.  Surak's mantra did help calm her and enable her to answer the Denobulan.  "You have already indicated that you do not believe my condition to be a medical problem.  Therefore, I have no reason to believe you could ease my discomfort, even if I were more forthcoming."   With that, she turned and promptly walked out of sickbay.

On the way to the bridge, she attempted to classify the nature of her panic.  The other symptoms she understood, as well as any Vulcan could understand such emotionalism, but the sense of panic puzzled T'Pol.  While she was contemplating, Ensign Sato joined her in the turbolift. 

*_Perhaps Ensign Sato can be of assistance.*  _"Ensign Sato, am I correct in assuming you are experiencing loneliness during Lieutenant Reed's time on the planet?"

Looking a bit startled, the younger woman flushed but nodded.  "Yes, T'Pol, you'd be correct in assuming that."

"Have you experienced any uncomfortable side affects from this loneliness?" 

Hoshi looked at her with a confused expression. "Well, loneliness is never pleasant, T'Pol," she pointed out.  "Did you have something specific in mind?"

"Have you experienced any sense of . . . panic?" 

Hoshi cocked her head to the left, as she considered the answer.  "Well, I don't know if it's panic, but when I feel the loneliest, there's a feeling of 'Oh, God, what if they don't come back.'  It's silly in most cases, but given the circumstances on the planet, well, I'd almost say it's justified here."

"Indeed." *_It is justified for a human,*_ T'Pol's inner voice hastily corrected. 

^^^^^^*********^^^^^^^

"So, what book did T'Pol want to read?" Malcolm asked Trip casually as they walked to breakfast.  They had been invited to dine with the colonists and given that no additional repairs could be made until Anders could determine what exactly was causing the disturbances on the planet, they had decided to attend. 

The armory officer bit back a laugh at the look he received in reply.  It was a combination of shock, horror, and anger, with a tad bit of guilt.  Surely only Trip could have pulled it off effectively. "Oh, come, now. With all the rumors about the two of you, you didn't expect me not to know who you were talking about, did you?" 

Trip's expression turned into a scowl. "I told ya, Malcolm, there isn't anything-"

"Yes, I know," Malcolm mocked gently. "She's just helping you sleep.  But as we already determined, clearly she wants something a bit more intimate.  So, what book did she want to read?"

Noticing his friend's distinct discomfort, and deep blush, Malcolm prodded, "Why are you so embarrassed? It wasn't a piece of . . . erotica, was it?" 

"NO!" Trip snapped – very loudly, by Malcolm's estimation.  *_Serves you __right_**_for not answering my question.*  _**

Trip continued to express his outrage at Malcolm's question.  "This is T'Pol we're discussin', for cryin' out loud, Malcolm.  She wouldn't . . . couldn't. . . she's a _Vulcan, _Malcolm.  They don't have porn!" 

Malcolm again allowed himself a chuckle.  "How do you know that? Have you and T'Pol discussed it?" 

"NO! I most certainly have not. . . I'm not havin' this conversation with ya, Malcolm Reed.  You're a sick, sick man." 

Malcolm cast a long sideways glance towards his friend, saw the harried expression and  reddened cheeks, and decided perhaps the man had endured enough teasing.  *_For now.*  _Thoughts of possible future ways to harass his friend were cut short by Trip's low, appreciative whistle.  "What is it?"

The engineer gestured  to the bridge in front of them. "Look at _that. _It's incredible."

"It's impressive alright," Malcolm agreed. "Hmm."

Trip cast a sideways look at his friend. "What is it?"

"That structure looks distantly familiar, somehow.  I know I've never seen it on Earth, but still. . . "  Malcolm shook his head with a slight feeling of frustration.  

Turning his attention back to the structure in front of them, Trip wrinkled his nose in concentration.  "Well, it's definitely more advanced than anything we have on Earth.  But it doesn't feel familiar to _me. _Where do you think you've seen it before?On one of the planets we visited? According to what the Captain told us about these people, that's impossible."

"I know," Malcolm agreed. After all, what would a xenophobic society be doing with alien technology?  The armory officer shrugged it off as he and Trip continued their trek.  The men were midway through the glass structure when Malcolm realized just where he had seen the structure before.  

"The Vissians!" he exclaimed excitedly.  Too late he remembered that the Vissians were sore spot with his friend.  Malcolm's reminder of that fact came in the form of a scowl overtaking Trip's features and the downward glance of Trip's blue eyes. *_How long do you intend to keep feeling guilty over that one mistake?* _Malcolm wondered sorrowfully.    Mortified at his own lack of sensitivity, Malcolm hastened to explain, "That's where I've seen the bridge before.  Veylo showed it to me after. . . er, after we toured the armory."

"She showed you pictures of her home world's bridges?" Trip asked in confusion.

It was Malcolm's turn to look uncomfortable.  "No. . . she showed me a picture of a specific restaurant," he mumbled. 

Trip's frown of confusion only deepened.  "Random. . . pictures of restaurants on her home world?"  

"Yes."

"Malcolm. . . _why? _I thought the two of you spent the whole time discussing various tactical maneuvers." 

* _As though I was supposed to tell you otherwise, given the way your encounter with the Vissians turned out?*  _Malcolm wondered to himself.  Discussing Veylo with Trip would not only have been ungentlemanly – not that Veylo's culture probably put much stock in such old fashioned sentiments – but potentially hurtful to Trip.  And that wasn't something Malcolm would ever consciously do.  "We were discussing maneuvers," he hastily explained. "She said that if I was ever in the neighborhood, I should drop by and we could have dinner and discuss the maneuvers in greater . . . detail." 

Again, Trip's face fell.  "Well, given the way the Vissian encounter ended, Malcolm, I'd say that it's highly unlikely they'll allow any humans to come within hailin' distance of their home world.  Besides, even if Earth has developed diplomatic relations in the time we've been away, from what we know of these people, they wouldn't use that technology."

"Well, perhaps you're right," Malcolm agreed, in an effort to appease his friend. "Perhaps the human race has simply advanced this far in the time we've been in the Expanse."

The rest of their journey was a silent one, and Malcolm inwardly cursed himself for bringing up the unpleasant topic of the Vissians.  When they neared the dining hall, Officer Hogan came into view.  The third man's cheerful grin and warm personality were a welcome change to the mood.

"Is everything alright, Malcolm?" Hogan asked once they came into hearing range. "I noticed you and Trip stopped for several moments on the bridge."

"Ah, yes, we were simply admiring the technology used to construct it," Malcolm assured him.  

"It _is _impressive, isn't it?" Hogan agreed, beaming at him. "Those Vissians are good architects, aren't they?"

~~~

To Be Continued. . . 


	9. Are You a Good Witch or a Bad Witch?

To Have Learned Nothing At All

Chapter 9:   Are You a Good Witch or a Bad Witch?   

A/N:  Yep, been a while – much longer than I prefer. However, the muse for this one is extremely flighty.  So much so that I have decided not to bother my wonderful betas anymore for this one – it's not fair to ask someone to keep track of a fic that is updated so sporadically. Hence, not betaed, so the grammar, etc. may suck now.  

~~~~~~~

Mayor Lewis noticed the confusion of Trip and Malcolm as soon as they took their seats at the breakfast table.  "Gentlemen, is there something that bothers you?" 

Lewis noted the cautious glance that passed between the two men and he marveled at the depth of their friendship they must have shared in order to communicate so easily without saying a word.  Commander Tucker ultimately chose to be the spokesperson for the twosome.  "We were just wonderin'. . . the bridge we had to cross to get here from our sleeping quarters – "

"Ah, yes. The Vissian Bridge.  It's quite spectacular, isn't it?" Lewis agreed. 

Again, the look passed between the two men.  "Does that disturb you, gentlemen? I had heard, of course, that your ship did not have the best diplomatic relationship with the Vissians – "

"No," Lieutenant Reed interrupted.  "It doesn't disturb us, exactly.  We were just operating under the assumption that your colony had more of an . . . isolationist policy towards non-humans." 

To the lieutenant's left, Officer Hogan laughed shortly. "Isolationism, lieutenant?  Do you truly believe that to even be a possibility in these times of space travel?"

Lewis shook his head. "Officer Hogan is quite correct, gentlemen.  True isolationism has not been possible upon Earth for nearly two hundred years, since the start of globalization." 

~~

Trying to forget the association the colonists had with Vissians, Trip shook his head and asked in bewilderment, "What exactly _is _your policy towards non-humans?"   
Motioning towards the waiting table, Lewis suggested, "Perhaps we should begin consumption of breakfast before we begin to converse, gentlemen. After all, you may be guests on leave, but the colonists do have duties to attend to."

Trip bit down the automatic reply that would have pointed out that the Enterprise crew had been doing plenty of 'duties' on this planet lately.  Instead, he inquired, "Do all the colonists eat together, Mayor?"

Trip's question was rewarded with a hearty laugh. "Well, no, of course not, Mr. Tucker. We wouldn't have room in one place for all of them.  However, each of the colonies five major sections do gather together each morning in celebration of the day that is to come and in the evening, in celebration of the events that have passed."

*_Ah, but of course.  It's perfectly normal  - all cities are built that way.  Why didn't I realize?*_ Trip thought, somewhat bitterly, to himself.  Pushing the thought away, he reminded himself that six days of being knee deep in human excrement with little sleep had made him more irritable than normal. *_That's to be expected . . . isn't it?*_

Still, it was with a good deal of agitation that Trip, along with Malcolm, followed Mayor Lewis and Officer Hogan to the buffet display.  The sight that greeted them was nothing short of spectacular.   Four large rectangular tables practically overflowed with various types of breakfast food, spanning numerous Earth continents and cultures.  

"Eat up, gentlemen. Keep in mind, the only rule is that you must take one item from each table, and you must eat everything on your plate," Hogan encouraged as he handed them both plates. 

As Trip and Malcolm moved to comply, Trip grumbled quietly under his breath, "Everything on my plate? I haven't been told that since I was eight."

"There's a wide enough selection. Why don't you just pick the foods you like? You have to be hungry enough."

"Fine. But I'm goin' to take the opportunity while we eat to question these guys. Something creepy's goin' on here, and I don't like it."

Trip saw the brief glance of disapproval that spread across Malcolm's face before he turned and lead the way to the large circular wooden gathering table.  Malcolm followed quietly behind, and Trip momentarily wondered where the suspicious, untrusting tactical officer that normally occupied his friend's body had gone. 

~

As much as Trip contemplated what he viewed to be uncharacteristic behavior from Malcolm, the tactical officer began to wonder exactly what was wrong with Trip throughout the course of the meal.  True, his friend had always been the passionate sort – but as the conversation progressed, it became clear that Trip's objection to the colony was more of a personal one.

"So . . . your policy towards non-humans?" Trip reminded Lewis once they were seated. 

"Ah, yes.  You see, it's really very simple.   We believe that the many different alien cultures Earth has come in contact with have the potential to have views which are . . . shall we say, radically different from our own."

Malcolm resisted the urge to roll his eyes at such an obvious statement.  *_Of course they're going to be different than your own.  Why would someone from another planet  be even remotely similar?*_

"Well, that tends to be the case.  Ya see, people from _other_ worlds tend to have _other _views," Trip agreed. 

Part of Malcolm's tactical training had involved the study of non-verbal communication.  It was with great concern, therefore, that he noticed the slight clenching of Hogan's jaw as he sat quietly to the right of Lewis, who made his response verbally. "True. Be assured, Mr. Tucker, that we have no problem with diversity.  But we simply believe that in basic concepts of human decency, diversity has no place. There are some things that are clearly right, and others that are clearly wrong.  Don't you agree?"

Trip was in mid-bite when the question came, and had to swallow before he responded.  Malcolm noted that the swallow took considerably more time than it typically would have. "I suppose so," was Trip's final response. 

"You 'suppose' so?" Lewis questioned.  He sounded genuinely confused, and Malcolm briefly pondered the possibility that he was truly a moron before deciding that the confusion was more likely part of a manipulative subterfuge designed to throw them off.  He also noted that Hogan's jaw could not possibly clench much tighter.  

"Yep," came Trip's solitary reply. 

Of course, Malcolm had also studied verbal communication. Thus, he was able to recognize that it wasn't exactly _what _Trip was saying, as much as it was how, that was becoming a problem.  

*_This is not going well,*_ Malcolm reflected. Vainly, he attempted to remedy the situation. "I believe what my friend is saying is that often there are shades of gray –"

Unfortunately, that proved to be the straw that unclenched Hogan's jaw. "Shades of gray, Malcolm? When are there shades of gray in matters relating to murder?"   

"In our time in the Expanse, we killed a lot of Xindi," Trip replied before Malcolm could. "Some people might call that murder, others might not."

"That's ridiculous!" Hogan sputtered indignantly, sending bits of egg in flight as he did so. "You were defending _Earth." _

"And they thought they were defending _their _world," Trip pointed out. 

*_Since when does Trip defend the Xindi?*_ came the warning in Malcolm's head. *_This really isn't going well at all.*_  "What I believe Commander Tucker is trying to say is that we haven't really encountered any species that has truly been in favor of killing for sport."  Well, it had sounded diplomatic when it had been in his head. When it came out, on the other hand, Hogan apparently disagreed with its diplomatic content. 

"You've been gone a while, Malcolm.  Neither you nor Mr. Tucker have had the _privilege _of meeting the Thunderians, have you?"

"No, we haven't," Malcolm agreed hesitantly, vowing silently to look them up in the revised Starfleet database as soon as they returned to _Enterprise. _

"They're a catlike race," Hogan remarked, scowling at an apparent memory he chose not to share with either Trip or Malcolm. "They have many barbaric customs that require bloodshed and warfare.  Chief among them is a ritualistic 'hunt' in which opposing villages are pitted against each other in a competition for the highest number killed."

"Well, if they're 'catlike,' their behavior might be part of their natural evolution," Trip pointed out. Again, Malcolm winced inwardly at his tone. "What gives you the right to make judgments about that?"

"From your interaction with the Vissians, I never would have guessed you would be so _sensitive _about other culture's _natural evolution," _Hogan remarked snidely.  

Wincing, Malcolm decided that whatever bond he and Hogan had tentatively formed over security repairs had completely dissipated with that one sentence.  

" It is _because _of my 'interaction' with the co-genitor that I am 'sensitive' about other cultures," Trip retorted. 

Malcolm tensed as Hogan started to reply, but eased considerably as Lewis interrupted him. "We don't have any problem with other cultures having their own rituals and customs, Commander Tucker.  It is simply our belief that while they are on our planet, they should obey our laws, observe our customs, and not believe they have any inherent right to observe their own."

"Because human customs are . . . _inherently _superior?" Trip asked in disbelief, his voice dripping with sarcasm. 

"Yes.  You don't see us performing any type of ritual even close to that of the Thunderians, do you?" Hogan replied.

"Actually, that ritual is quite close to that of the ancient Greek cities of Athens and Sparta," Malcolm pointed out.  

He was rewarded with a patronizing glare from Lewis.  "Yes, but that was long ago, in Earth's darker ages.  We're a bit more enlightened than that these days, Lieutenant."

Malcolm bit his lip and thought about correcting Lewis and informing the condescending bastard that the 'dark ages' he spoke of were considered by most to be one of the high points of Western culture.  Realizing that perhaps there were more diplomatic avenues, but unable to conjure any, he chose once again to say nothing. 

"So, if that's your stance, why do you have the Vissian bridge in the middle of your colony?" Trip demanded.  While Malcolm understood the tone his friend was using, the tactical officer in him wished desperately that the engineer had picked a different one. 

"They were willing to help us, Mr. Tucker, while agreeing to abide by our rules, ethics, and customs while they were on our planet," Mayor Lewis answered.  

"If that's all you wanted, I don't see why you needed to leave Earth.  Last time I checked, even visitors to the planet had to abide by our rules," Trip responded stubbornly.

"You've been gone for a while.  It's been what, three years since Enterprise departed Earth?" Hogan commented.  At Trip and Malcolm's nod, Hogan continued, using his fork to accentuate his words.  "Since then, there's been a growing movement on Earth to invite non-humans to our planet, even following the Xindi attack.  While cooperation and getting along with our neighbors is a nice idea in theory, Earth's governments have begun to overlook the importance of preserving our culture, our ideals, our morals, and our beliefs – all in favor of sitting in an intra-galactic circle singing 'Ring Around the Rosie.'  Pacification has become more important than anything else." 

For a reason Malcolm couldn't quite place, he suddenly recalled that "Ring Around the Rosie," had been written during the Plague that haunted Europe's Dark Ages.  Pushing that thought away, his thoughts were interrupted by the movement to his left as Trip suddenly rose. 

"Thanks for the lesson in xenophobia. If you'll excuse me-"

"Ah, ah, Mr. Tucker. You have not completed your meal. I believe we have already warned you that you must finish your meals completely. Waste will not be tolerated on our colony.  Not even by guests," Hogan warned. There was a decided edge to Hogan's voice. 

"Trip, remember the Captain's orders," Malcolm whispered softly. He was rewarded by a silent glare from his friend who remained standing for more than a minute before deciding to sit down. 

"Thank you, Mr. Tucker," Lewis said graciously. "You see, you may not like our way of doing things.  However, I would remind you that this colony does have the full support of Earth's government."

Trip fell silent as he returned to consuming his food.  The lull eventually became an uncomfortable silence.  It was broken finally when Lewis remarked, "We are not alone in our beliefs.  What we are advocating is not so different from the Vulcan concept of non-interference."

"Yes, I look forward to discussing the concept with Sub-Commander T'Pol when she arrives," Hogan remarked. 

"Sub-Commander T'Pol will _not _be arriving to this planet," Trip said forcefully.  

"Oh, I don't know about that.  According to Anders, she's our best hope for fixing the seismic difficulties.  I'm sure Earth's government – and Captain Archer – will want to do everything in their power to help. Weren't those your orders?" Hogan offered.  

The look that Trip gave the man clearly communicated the desire for Hogan to choke on the next bite of bread the security officer took.  Taking the opportunity, Malcolm remarked, "That will be up to the Captain to decide."

"Yes," Trip opined, "I'm sure it will be one of the first things we'll discuss with the Captain when we return to the ship."  

The rest of the meal proceeded without interruption, and Malcolm found himself counting down the moments for it to end.  When it did, they bade their goodbyes and headed towards the rendezvous point.  As Malcolm followed behind Trip, he feared slightly for the poor geologist who was no doubt going to bear the brunt of Trip's irritation on the shuttle ride back to _Enterprise_. 

~~~

To Be Continued. . . 


	10. Why Can't I?

To Have Learned Nothing at All

Chapter 10

Why Can't I? 

A/N:  Oh, look, Hera the Muse (named after the meanest of the Greek goddesses, of course) decided to let me update.  

~~~

T'Pol was waiting beside Captain Archer when Commander Tucker, Lieutenant Reed, and the rest of the away team returned to _Enterprise__. _ As she waited, she permitted herself a glimpse into the slight crack that had been ever present in her mental wall since the first day she had come aboard.  The wall was stronger now, in many ways, as her experiences in the Expanse had only served as a reason to reinforce it. Conversely, however, T'Pol's experience in the past year had reinforced the need to be ever more watchful of the crack. 

*_Would not an acknowledgment of truth be more helpful in preventing a relapse in loss of emotional control?* _T'Pol pondered to herself theoretically.

It was logical, was it not?

Peering closely through the crack, T'Pol examined the inner most sensations wishing to break free.  Along with the ever present panic that had been her companion since Commander Tucker had left the ship one week prior, at the forefront was the same . . . feeling . . . she had experienced during her days working in surveillance.  She was experiencing the same increase in adrenaline that she had known while pursuing an enemy for Vulcan High Command.  The same rapid increase in her heart beat thundered in her ears, causing a dull ache in her head.  Equally as familiar was the internal churning of her gut, propelling the slightest sensation of nausea.  The memorable dryness of her mouth and throat stood in stark contrast to the equally well known wetness accompanying the increased activity of her apocrine sweat glands.

A human would have termed it anxiety.  It was most unsettling. 

As Commander Tucker exited the shuttlepod, the panic instantly fled T'Pol's system. It was replaced by another sensation, almost as unwelcome, yet infinitely stronger.  The gentle warmth was not an unfamiliar sensation, as she had been frequently experienced it in Commander Tucker's presence. As her gaze traveled thoroughly up and down his body, T'Pol carefully examined him for any sign of malady.  Finding him well, T'Pol reveled momentarily in the warmth, comfort, and relief that his physical presence brought her.  It was only a fraction of a second, and certainly no longer than would be appropriate for a Vulcan recently reunited with their bondmate. 

*_He is not my bondmate,* _the louder portion of T'Pol's consciousness reminded her.  

*_No,* _she agreed silently to herself, *_But I do hold great affection for him.* _  The conscious realization of the fact soothed T'Pol's consciousness a great deal.  

Until it was interrupted by a jolt of anger.  

It took a moment for T'Pol to realize to understand where the anger was coming from.  She knew instinctively that the sensation did not belong to her.  Her momentary confusion as to its origins was cut short, however, the moment Commander Tucker chose to speak.

"Captain, we need to talk."  The content of Commander Tucker's request was not alarming, but the intensity of his tone was.  

"I'm sure we do, Trip, and I have a pretty good idea what about, but we need to get you to sickbay first and have all of you checked out," Archer said firmly.  

"Captain, I'm fine," Commander Tucker protested.  

"I want Phlox's assurance that that's the case, Trip," Archer responded.  

"No one else is going to go down to the planet before I'm done with my physical?" Trip asked. 

T'Pol noticed the confused expression on Archer's face, but she readily understood that perhaps something unfortunate had occurred with the beings on the planet.  "I am sure the Captain will want a full report before risking the lives of any of the rest of his crew," she interjected.  

She was rewarded with another slightly confused look from the Captain, but Archer slowly nodded his head.  "That's right, Trip.  Report to my quarters as soon as Phlox is done looking you over."

"Alright," Trip sighed in defeat and, along with the rest of the away party, turned and headed towards sickbay.  

As T'Pol returned to the bridge, she pondered the implications of the fact that she had so easily detected Commander Tucker's anger.  In and of itself, the fact would not have overly concerned T'Pol.  Her people were, after all, telepaths, and while touch telepathy was the most frequent means of communication, it was certainly not the _only _means.  

Commander Tucker, however, was not a Vulcan.  Nor was he a telepath. Those facts combined with the nature of her dreams were leading T'Pol to contemplate possibilities that would inherently complicate her relationship with Commander Tucker, at the very least.

Taking her station at the bridge, T'Pol tried to ignore the possibly unpleasant realities of what might be. *_Possibly?*  Surely_ such a qualifier was not necessary.  Her relationship with Commander Tucker was complicated enough.    __

~~~

Four hours later, after Trip had spent an ample amount of time in the decon chamber, both he and Malcolm had debriefed the Captain and T'Pol on the situation with the colony.  Malcolm had been dismissed, but Trip insisted on staying to further plead his case with the Captain.  T'Pol remained as well.  

Since they had entered the Expanse, Jonathan Archer had come to miss many things. Among these were the conversations at the Captain's Table, and the accompanying sparring matches of his fist officer and chief engineer.  

Thus, while the subject matter currently being discussed was certainly serious, it must be said that Jonathan Archer was finding tremendous joy in the current discussion involving the two said parties. 

"Captain, those people are completely xenophobic.  You can't seriously be thinkin' about letting T'Pol go down there," Trip protested. 

"I am the chief science officer aboard this vessel. It is only logical that I go down to the planet's surface," T'Pol retorted.

"These people wouldn't know logic if it crawled up the leg and bit them on the inside of the ass, Captain."

"That is an . . .irrational action to assign to logic.  Perhaps you would be better off associating it to the emotionalism you are experiencing."

"_Emotionalism?_I'm not experiencing any '_emotionalism,' _T'Pol."

"Then what would you term it? You are certainly not behaving within any rational perimeters." 

"Rational . . . T'Pol – Captain, these people aren't _rational. _ I've already told you – Malcolm and I both –how they acted."

"You became upset because they asked you not to waste food," T'Pol pointed out.  "Yet you insist _they _are illogical?"

Trip responded by placing his hands on his hips in a fashion Archer had seen many times the first year of the Enterprise's mission.  The return of the familiar gesture warmed a small portion of Archer's heart, even while the other portion, the one that had been jaded by the fighting with the Xindi, weighted what T'Pol and Trip were saying.  

"Captain, even Admiral Forrest knows what type of people live on this colony," Trip said finally.  "Ya aren't really thinking of letting her go down there, are you?"

"T'Pol, isn't there any way you can just tell Anders what type of scans to perform?" Archer asked.  

Immediately his first officer responded with a stiffening of her back and a clasp of her hands behind her back.  "What you propose is not only difficult, but inefficient, and in all probability would postpone the crew's homecoming by an additional week."

"I'm willing to take whatever additional time is needed," Archer responded. 

"Additional time is _not _needed," T'Pol reminded him. 

"Captain-" Trip began, only to be interrupted by a very non-pleased Vulcan whose arms were crossed in a manner that would have translated to irate, if T'Pol had been human.  

"Captain, both Lieutenant Reed and Commander Tucker have testified that, irrespective of the colony's reputation, the colony requires only strict adherence to the laws of governance.  This is a required law by many planets, including my own.  If visitors were allowed to behave in any fashion they wished, it would be a detriment to the law, peace, and order," T'Pol finished.

Both T'Pol and Trip were looking at him expectantly.  Suddenly, any and all joy Archer had been getting from the conversation had disappeared as the full weight of what he was responsible for deciding settled in his mind.  "While the away team was on the planet, Mayor Lewis was in contact several times. His communications grew in number the closer we got to a deadline without any progress. I've already spoken to Admiral Forrest about this.  He left this message to play for you, T'Pol." 

T'Pol's eyebrows raised to demonstrate the unexpectedness of the news, and Trip shifted his weight to demonstrate his anxiety as Archer pressed the appropriate button on the view screen. Within seconds the face of Admiral Forrest filled the screen. He was older than he had been the last time he'd been seen only by a year, yet the additional wrinkles and loss of hair seemed to stretch that amount exponentially. 

"Sub-Commander T'Pol," the Admiral began, a warm smile filling his tired face at the sound of the Vulcan's name.  "Let me first thank you for all that you have done thus far for our planet.  Leaving High Command could not have been an easy decision, but judging from the Captain's reports, Enterprise wouldn't have made it without you.  So, on behalf of the people of Earth, I extend my deepest gratitude.

Captain Archer has also informed me that the APA I colony is asking for you to come to the surface to fix whatever seismic problems they have.  While Starfleet would appreciate any help you have to offer, we are also sensitive to the fact that these humans are among our most intolerant.   

Neither Captain Archer nor myself will order to you to go. The decision is entirely yours, Sub-Commander.  "

There was a brief nod before the screen went black. Archer turned to look back at his first officer carefully.  She waited only for the screen to fade to black before turning back to face him.  "We have only approximately one week before the next ionic distortion. If we wait much longer, the crew will not be able to return to Earth for another fortnight.  I am certain no one wants that."

"T'Pol – " Trip began. 

If possible, the Vulcan's height increased by three full inches as she answered his unspoken protest.  "_Admiral _Forrest made it clear that the decision was up to my discretion, _Commander." _

"Yes, he did, T'Pol, and if you want to go down to the planet, no one on board is going to stop you.  Now, Trip, according to your and Malcolm's reports, we'll need to send another engineer down to the planet to secure the sewage systems?" Archer interrupted, hoping to stall the rest of the argument. After all, as T'Pol had pointed out, the sooner they went to the planet and finished up this mess, the sooner they could go _home. _

"Yep, the repairs Malcolm and I made were only temporary.  Another seismic disruption or two, and the whole colony will have their showers stocked with poop.  _Again_."  Trip made a face that indicated very clearly that he was recalling being knee deep in excrement. 

"Okay. Who would you recommend I send from your team?" 

"Me," was Trip's quick reply.  

"You?" Archer questioned. 

"Given your intense dislike of the colonists, that would be an unwise course of action," T'Pol argued. 

"I can stifle my dislike of the colonists while I'm on the planet," Trip retorted, "And since I'm already familiar with the sewage system, we'd save a lot of time and help the colonists a lot more. . . _efficiently.  _That is why we're going, isn't it, Sub-Commander?"

T'Pol chose only to glower at him quietly. 

"Alright, Trip, I'll send you.   I do want this wrapped up as soon as possible.  But, Trip, regardless of how you feel about them – "

"I won't cause a diplomatic incident, Captain."

Archer smiled and nodded. "I know you won't, Trip.  It's not you I don't trust.  It's the colonists.  Be extra . . . nice to them.  Now, unless there's anything else, I think it's safe for you to depart.  I'll walk you to the shuttle bay."

~~~

On the way to the shuttle pod,  Trip's anger grew in considerable bounds.  It took a good deal of Vulcan strength to block the sensation.  Even as she managed to do so, however, T'Pol become acutely aware of another of Trip's emotions. 

It was fear.

~~~

To Be Continued. . .  . 

Feedback is good!


	11. Just Follow the Yellow Brick Road

To Have Learned Nothing At All

Chapter 11

Just Follow the Yellow Brick Road 

A/N:  This chapter's short, and mostly dialogue.  It's really more of a transition than an action chapter.  Eh, it happens.  

_~~~_

Shuttlepod One had barely exited the shuttle bay before T'Pol spoke.  "Your behavior in front of the Captain was unacceptable."

Trip, who had been silently sulking in the seat next to her, turned to scowl at her.  "I was giving my opinion to Captain Archer based on my experience with these people. How was that _unacceptable?_"

"You were allowing your personal feelings for me to cloud your judgment."

Trip's heart momentarily skipped a beat. "My personal feelings for you?"

"Our friendship."

*_Of course.* _"Oh."

Trip didn't appear to have much to add, so T'Pol reiterated, "It was inappropriate." 

"Well, I'm sorry for being your friend."

"I am not."

Guilt overwhelmed him, and he instantly retracted his statement. "Neither am I."

"Why would you make such a statement if it was not an indication of your true beliefs?" 

*_Other than because I'm an ass?*_ "Because I don't want to return to this colony, T'Pol, and I certainly don't you to go down there."

"Then you are engaging in displacement," T'Pol stated with the same certainty as any psychologist.

"Yeah, I guess so," Trip muttered. *_I'd like to engage in a lot of other things. Namely punching Lewis and Hogan square in the jaw.*_

T'Pol's voice was uncharacteristically soft as she replied, "You need not apologize for your affection.  It is imperative, however, that you do not permit your affection to distort the proper protocol necessary for our working relationship."

"T"Pol, I really don't think you should be going down to this planet."

"You have made that objection before, and it has been noted.  It has not, and will not, however, change the events that are about to occur." 

"Fine.  I can live with that.  Are you done being mad at me?"

"I do not-"

"I know, I know. Vulcans don't get mad.  Let me re-phrase that.  Are you done being . . .unpleased with me?"

"Yes."

As the shuttle began to descend through the stratosphere, he remarked, "Good.  Wouldn't want to piss off any of those thousand of Vulcan gods you were telling me about."

"Those 'gods' have not been worshiped by my people since we began following the path of Surak, Commander."

"Just because you stopped worshippin' them doesn't mean they don't exist.  In fact, last week I was pretty certain they do and I really had pissed them all off.  Simultaneously." 

"Even if they did exist, which they do not, you could not have angered them all, Commander."

"Oh?"

"You would not have angered Sakon.  He was the god of . . . 'fun.'"

"So, you think I'm fun?"   

Apparently, Trip said the previous sentence with just a hint too much glee, as T'Pol quickly reminded him, "I would remind you that fun is a useless diversion which is detrimental to productivity."

Trip chuckled softly.  "Initiating landing procedures.  You know, I'm really not looking foreword to wading through that muck again," he grumbled, his irritation making a full comeback.   

"I would have believed your former homeland would have prepared you for both the temperature and the experience of . . . wading."

The irritation left Trip's voice and he managed a soft laugh.  "Wadin' back home is a bit different, T'Pol. 'Sides, I always preferred snorkelin' myself."

"Snorkeling?" T'Pol was relatively certain she was unfamiliar with such a sport.  "What is snorkeling?"

"I don't suppose they'd have it on Vulcan, if it's as hot and dry as they say. Maybe. . . "  Trip permitted his voice to trail off.  

"Please finish your sentence, Commander."

"Well, give me time, already! I was just going to suggest that maybe once we get back to Earth, I could show you how to snorkel.  In person."

"I look forward to learning more about this snorkeling. . .when we arrive on Earth.  I am certain that we should exit the shuttle now, before our guests become concerned."

"Sure," Trip sang cheerfully.  "You know, T'Pol, we're getting better. We managed to hash out a full two arguments in the time it took us to arrive to this planet."

As the hatch of the shuttlepod opened, T'Pol answered quietly, "I am certain Sakon would be proud, Commander." 

Trip gave her one last grin before stepping out into the APA I colony's sunshine. *_Maybe this visit won't be so bad after all,* _he thought optimistically.  His headache had eased up a little, and T'Pol agreeing to go snorkeling with him when they returned to Earth.  What better start could a mission have? 

~~

To be Continued. . . 


	12. Grounded Descendents of Monkeys

To Have Learned Nothing At All

Chapter 12 

Grounded Descendents of Monkeys 

~~

Punching Hogan would be a bad thing, Trip reminded himself.  At the very least, it would go against his promise to the Captain to be "extra nice" to these people.  Watching Hogan's lecherous stares sweep over T'Pol, however, was making it extremely difficult to keep those thoughts in mind. 

"Thank you for coming, Sub-Commander," Mayor Lewis said, extending his hand.  

*_Vulcans__ don't shake hands.*  Trip_ yelled mentally.  Much to  his displeasure, however, T'Pol leaned forward and shook the mayor's hand without hesitation. 

*_I really, really hate that man,*  Trip_ raged internally.  T'Pol turned to look at him so sharply that Trip briefly wondered if he had spoken the words out loud. 

"If there's anything you need, be sure to let us know," Lewis continued as T'Pol broke the handshake.  

"Thank you.  Commander Tucker will be assisting me until I have identified the problem, at which time he will make any necessary compensations to the sewage system," T'Pol stated. 

"Naturally. Tell me, are the mental abilities as good as rumor has it?" Hogan questioned. 

*_What the hell kind of question is that?*  Even_ T'Pol raised an eyebrow as she responded. "As I am unaware what rumors currently exist regarding mental abilities, I am unable to answer that question effectively.  Our abilities, however, are substantial." 

"We'd like to get started right away," Trip added. *_After all, the sooner we get started, the sooner we leave this miserable colony.*_

"Of course.  Do keep in mind that dinner will be served promptly at seven o'clock. We will expect you both to be there," Mayor Lewis said cheerfully. 

"I believe Mr. Tucker can fill you in on the proper conduct expected during meal time, as well as the consequences of not following proper protocol," Hogan commented.

Perhaps it was an innocent comment, perhaps not.  Regardless, it made Trip's blood boil, as he highly suspected the latter to be true.  Still, he managed a polite nod and an "of course" before he and T'Pol were escorted to the geography lab. 

()()()()()()()()

*_The __Enterprise.__*_

Standing outside Hoshi's quarters, Travis Mayweather desperately wished he were Malcolm  Reed. Being Malcolm Reed would simplify his life in so many ways. *_For starters, I'm pretty sure Lieutenant Reed never gets scared of anything.*  _Why, the very idea that _Enterprise's _armory officer was even capable of expressing that emotion was as likely as a Vulcan smiling, in Travis' estimation.  Neither event was possible within the normal order of the universe.

More importantly, perhaps, if Travis had been Malcolm Reed, he would already be the object of Hoshi's affections, thereby negating the need to be frightened in the first place.  *_Just in case the order of the universe is a little different than I imagine it to be.*_

"Geez, Travis, how long are you going to stand there?" a voice teased behind him.  Turning, Travis recognized Ensign Daniel Kelown from cartography.  

"I haven't been here that long," Travis lied out of self-preservation.

"You were here twenty-minutes ago, when my shift ended and I was on my way to my quarters.  You're still here, now that I'm on my way to Phlox to get my allergy shot.  How exactly do you define 'long'?"

Though being a bridge officer meant that Travis technically outranked Kelown, the pilot wished he outranked Kelown by a more significant margin. Preferably as a head of a department that could sentence the cartographer to the most menial task imaginable.  *_Would it be wrong to use my friendship with Trip or Malcolm to arrange that?*  "_Well, I haven't been here all this time," Travis lied in the name of self dignity.  

"Oh?"  Kelown looked so smug that Travis had to remind himself that punching another officer was a court-marital offense. 

"Yes, _oh._ Hoshi wasn't here the first time I came by," Travis lied to protect his previous lies.

It was possible that Kelown had something else to add, but any comment was forestalled by the swish of the aforementioned door.  

"Travis!" the object of the pilot's affection exclaimed.  "What brings you by?"

"There's something I wanted to talk to you about," Travis stated truthfully.  

"Well, want to take a walk with me? I need to get up and stretch my legs," Hoshi asked, with no idea that she was making Travis wince internally.

"Been cooped up in your quarters a long time, Ensign?" Kelown piped up.  

"Only the past three hours, working on the specifics of the Xindi Aquatic grammatical structure," came the response which made Travis externally wince.   

The sound of Kelown's laughter followed Travis and Hoshi at least halfway down the corridor.  

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

*_The planet.*_

In truth, there was not much for Trip to do at the science lab.  While he was an accomplished and innovative engineer,  his scientific skills did not extend to geography.  Mostly he tried to stay out of T'Pol's way.  

He was very useful, however, in technical assistance such as pulling up the schematics of the colony for her.  While T'Pol appreciated his help, she knew she could have very well have done those same tasks with little additional time. 

Regardless of whether or not she needed him, there was no way T'Pol was willing to permit Commander Tucker to leave her vicinity. She was growing increasingly aware of the depth of his feelings towards the colonists.  Thus, as much as Commander Tucker was intent on protecting her, in T'Pol's estimation, he needed her protection more.

"Findin' anything?" 

"Perhaps."

"Wanna share?"

*_Apparently his patience has found its limitations.*  To_ some extent, T'Pol was relieved to be speaking to Commander Tucker. The intensity of his emotions were immensely distracting in the quiet of an empty lab.  "Look at these two layers of rock," T'Pol instructed. 

"The top one looks pretty broken up."

"Whereas the bottom layer is comparatively very smooth.  Much smoother than is to be expected if Teutonic friction was involved."

"Well, that's narrowing down the choices a bit," Trip offered optimistically.  It was, T'Pol reflected, the first time he had put forth any effort not to sound unhappy since they had arrived on the colony. In appreciation of this fact, T'Pol chose not to point out that his observation had little constructive purpose. 

"Excuse me, T'Pol, Mr. Tucker?" a young girl that T'Pol estimated to be around fourteen human years stepped hesitantly into the room.  "I was sent to remind you that dinner is in one hour."

"Thank you," T'Pol said to her, and after a quick nod, the girl turned and fled the room. 

"She looked rather terrified," Commander Tucker remarked.

"I suspect she is frightened of me, if her people remotely resemble your interpretation," T'Pol stated calmly.  Though T'Pol's gaze was directed towards her scans, she did not fail to notice the downward glance of his gaze.  Even if she had missed the change, she could have had missed the overwhelming sense of guilt that emanated from him. "What bothers you, Commander?" 

"Nothin'.  I just hate these people, that's all, T'Pol." He gave a careful glance around the lab, as if worried that someone might overhear him.  

"As illogical as it is for the colonists to have chosen to leave us unguarded, we are alone, Commander. Thus, you can be truthful."

"I am being truthful, T'Pol." 

"Charles."

It was the correct method in getting Commander Tucker to lower his guard.  "Do you remember Mr. Ventik?" 

"Your tenth grade biology teacher."

"And a Vulcan.  Ya know, T'Pol, I was as terrified of Ventik as that little girl was of you."

"I do not understand why this concerns you.  If anything, such a correlation should serve to illustrate the possibility that she may reach the same heights of understanding as you have achieved." 

"What heights, T'Pol? I've been thinking about it, and you know what? I'm haven't challenged my perceptions at all.  I'm still the same xenophobic bastard I was at fifteen." 

To say that Commander Tucker's confession was unexpected was an understatement. Charles Tucker was many things, but xenophobic was not one of them. "I do not see what justifications you have for that opinion."

"Isn't it obvious?"

"If it were, I clearly would have no need to ask."

Trip sighed and leaned up the nearest counter as though he needed its very support in order to stand. "When I first met you, I – I strongly disliked you.  Hell, all Vulcans."

"I am aware of that."

"My feelings toward you were probably pretty close to what these colonists feel."

"Your feelings have changed."  It was not a question.  It did not need to be.

"Of course they've changed!  But –"

"When I first met you, I held little affection for you.  Further, I was a representative of the Vulcan High Command and held little affection for your species as a whole.  I do not consider this an example of xenophobia any more than I consider your actions to be.  Both were mistakes, and both were rectified.  It is unlikely the people of this colony would have displayed the same concern for intercepting my personal mail that you did only weeks after we had first met, nor is it likely they would have listened as attentively as you did to my difficulty with Koss.  It is completely unfathomable that any of them would have agreed to undergo neuropressure."

"But I proposed a human solution to Koss, and resisted the neuropressure," Trip reminded her. 

"Did you resist the neuropressure sessions because of my species?" T'Pol inquired.  

In response, Trip's blushed and only muttered a "no."  Believing now not to be the proper place to further the discussion, but privately quite pleased, T'Pol ignored his facial pigmentation and continued.  "Then your reasoning is flawed.  Is there anything else that concerns you?"

"The cogentitor."

"While your methods were not optimal, they were not malevolent, either."

"I caused a death because I thought I knew better than an entire culture of people.  How is that not xenophobia?  Hell, it's probably worse than anything these colonists have ever done."

"While I support the Captain's actions in the handling of the cogenitor, he shares the blame with you for his death.  Though your actions were inappropriate, I believe them to have been prompted by the same sentiments that elicited your concern for my situation with Koss.  Compassion should not be mistaken for ethnocentricity." 

T'Pol was relieved to see a small smile cross Trip's face.  She recognized the feeling he was experiencing as the same one that had filled her as a child waiting on results of her scientific experiments.  It was hope, but a cautious hope. Caution was to be exerted in case there was something darker, even more foreboding. 

Which simply meant that Charles was not yet convinced of his innocence. "Something else disturbs you?"

His smile grew a little wider.  "Boy, T'Pol, you're turning into a regular mind reader."

*_That is not entirely accurate.*  Still_, it was becoming more and more apparent to T'Pol that she would soon have a long talk with Commander Tucker.  *_It can wait.  He is showing no signs of the same . . .side effects.*_

Her silence prompted him to continue, rubbing his neck nervously as he did so. "I  - I really hated the Xindi, T'Pol.  When we first left Earth, I wanted nothing more than to destroy the bastards for what they'd done.  Part of me still hates them, T'Pol. And regardless of what Surak may have said, I don't like living with the idea that I'm capable of hating someone that much."

"The brother of my father served as an Ambassador to Earth during the early years of human space exploration. While he was there, he encountered an elderly doctor who had served in Earth's last world war.  The doctor frequently told Solkar-"

"Solkar was your uncle? The first Vulcan Ambassador to Earth?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you ever mention that before?"

"It has never before been relevant. May I continue?"

"Sure."

"The doctor frequently shared with Solkar the unfortunate effects of war.  Though Solkar himself had known of war with Andoria, the exploits shared by the human doctor were far worse. The doctor related instances of surgeons during the war being so cold that they came to relish having a patient, for cutting them open would expose the surgeons' hands to the heat from the body."

Trip shivered.  "That's horrible, T'Pol."

"As is harboring hate for the enemy.  However, both are a consequence of war. Further, Surak believed that the first step to eradicating harmful thoughts was to identify them.  By taking that step, you  have already proven yourself inherently different from these colonists."

Trip smiled widely at that point.  "Thanks, T'Pol.  I could hug you for that. Except I know that Vulcans don't like to touch."

*_That would depend upon whom we are touching.*  "_Vulcans do not hug, Commander." 

Trip actually chuckled at that. "Nah.  Hey, we should probably head towards the meal site.  We still have some time, but I need to explain the stupid meal customs."

***********************************

When they arrived to the said site,  it appeared that Trip's explanation was faulty. "I fail to see 'several tables of a buffet,' Commander."

"Well, I only ate breakfast with them when I was here –"

"You did not have adequate food while you were here?"

"Yes, T'Pol, I did. But given what I was doing, no one insisted I come out from the sewer to join them.  They usually saved me a plate of food that I ate whenever I was finished." 

Trying to ignore the troubled sensation in his gut, Trip followed T'Pol as they walked over to the table where Lewis and Hogan were waiting for them.  

"Welcome, Mr. Tucker, T'Pol," Lewis greeted. "You are just in time. Sharon's handing out the plates."

Trip noticed Hogan give T'Pol another appraising look and the urge to punch the other man doubled.  The look was downright evil.  *_And it's not just me being jealous either.*_ "So, how come you only have buffet for breakfast?" Trip asked.

"We used to have equally elaborate spreads for all three meals. However, we discovered that much food was going to waste. As you know, we do not tolerate waste of food, Commander." 

"Yes, I _know_," Trip snapped.  He received a stern glance from T'Pol in reply.  One that clearly said, "shut up."  Trip complied, privately thinking that forcing everyone to eat everything on their plates was going way beyond "not tolerating waste." 

It was at that point that their plates arrived.  The food at least looked appetizing.  Brocoli, rice, and spare ribs. *_Who serves rice with spare ribs?*  _

Out of nowhere, a memory occurred to Trip.

~~

_Can't wait to see you tackle the spare ribs.___

_~~_

The shiver that ran through him at the memory of the words he had spoken to T'Pol at their first meal together only intensified as he turned to look at her plate, hoping against hope that the colonists knew and cared about Vulcans being vegetarians. 

Well, he couldn't testify to the former, but the latter apparently was not true. For there, in front of T'Pol, right next to her rice and broccoli, sat a pile of spare ribs.  

~~~

To Be Continued. . . .

A/N:  The surgeon bit I drew from my useless random historical knowledge. However, my non-historian friend has informed me that it was referenced on MASH as well.  I've never really seen that show, but hey, good for them.

A/N, II:  This chapter – and next  - are awfully chatty. For that, I apologize, but do offer that by chapter 14 that should change.  Bah.  


	13. The Curtain Removed

To Have Learned Nothing At All

The Curtain Removed 

Chapter 13

A/N:  Still chatty. Should change next chapter. Oh, and a quick warning: this chapter is sticky, cavity-inducing sweet in places.  It should be balanced out in the end though. 

~~~

He had never seen a Vulcan vomit before, Trip noted.  The fact that he was now seeing that very sight only reinforced his hatred of the colonists.  It was, after all, their fault that T'Pol was hunched over the toilet doing so.  

"I still don't understand why you ate the meat anyway," Trip grumbled from his position at T'Pol's side.  

Fortunately, T'Pol was at a pausing point in her regurgitation and thus able to answer him. "The reason should be obvious, Commander."

Trip sighed and wondered why they were back to "Commander." They'd made such progress with "Charles."

"Well, it's not."

"Admiral Forrest has made it clear that this colony is a diplomatic concern."

"They were baiting you, T'Pol.  No one would have blamed you if –"

"I was well aware of their intentions, Commander.  During my experience with the Klingons, I was frequently subjected to such tests."

"I still think we should go back to the ship."

"As first officer, I still outrank you."

"Why are you being so stubborn about this?"

"I am  not.  However, you are apparently allowing your personal feelings about this colony interfere with your professional obligations.  It is-"

"Inappropriate. Yeah, I know."

"It does little good to be aware of inappropriate behavior if you do not take steps to correct that behavior."

Trip felt a momentary surge of irritation that disappeared completely when T'Pol leaned over and began to vomit again.  Resting his head in his hand, he waited until T'Pol was finished.  "Are you going to be alright?"

"I am nearly sufficiently purged of the animal flesh." 

*_I'll take that as a 'yes.'*  _"Um, do you need anything else?"

"I do not."

"Ya sure?  Neuropressure, maybe?"

"Has your sleep been difficult this past week?" 

Trip took one look at T'Pol's disheveled appearance and decided to lie. "Nope.  Not a bit. But if you need –"

"You can help me best by leaving me to my solitude."

Trying not to take it personally, Trip nodded.  "Okay, then.  Holler if you, um, you need anything."

The fact that T'Pol didn't bother to tell him that hollering would have been unnecessary told Trip just how shaken up the meal incident had made her.  Cursing inwardly, he retreated toward his room with only one thought in his mind.  *_I really hate these colonists.* _

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

The quiet solitude of T'Pol's attempts at meditation was interrupted seventy-four minutes from the time Commander Tucker walked out the door by the same sensation of fear that she had detected in the engineer before they had departed _Enterprise_.  Its intensity was enough that it shook T'Pol out of meditation.  Without a pause, T'Pol stood, and headed across the hall to where Commander Tucker's temporary quarters were. Because the sensation of his fear growing steadily with each additional moment, T'Pol did not bother to announce her presence before entering.  

She found him still asleep in the bed.  Observing the disarray of blankets and the frown that adorned his features, T'Pol deduced that the fear she had detected was a figment of Commander Tucker's dream state. Given her own experience with unpleasant dreams, T'Pol moved with all deliberate speed to his bedside, laid a hand on his shoulder and firmly began to shake. 

The physical contact served to reinforce his panic. As he opened his eyes and saw her face, his relief became just as obvious.

"Hey," he said by way of greeting.

"I presume you were dreaming?" T'Pol asked.

"Nightmares more like it."   The statement was accompanied by an appropriate shiver. 

"Do you wish to discuss it?"

"Nah.  I'm sorry I woke you."

"You do not need to apologize."

"I must have been pretty loud for you to hear me."

The urge to lie was stronger than T'Pol was comfortable with.  Telling lies was not something a Vulcan should do unless there was a clearly  logical reason.  The only reasons T'Pol could think of not only were not logical, they bordered on blatantly emotional.  *_But is there a logical reason to tell him the truth?*  _The only one T'Pol could come up with was if he was experiencing the same sensations she had.  "Commander, it is extremely important that you tell me the contents of your dream."

"It was just a dream, T'Pol."

"Charles.  It is important.  You maybe experiencing a . . . side effect of the neuropressure sessions."

 "Oh."  He rose at that point, resting his body weight rested on the palms of his hands.  "Well. . . um, you were calling out for me, and I couldn't reach you.  Since. . .since it matters, I suppose I should tell you, it's not the first time I've had the dream."

"It is not?"

"No.   I,  uh, all last week I had pretty much the same dream."

"Then you were not being truthful when you claimed to have experienced no difficulty sleeping."  She took a moment to reflect on the displeasure this caused.  Ultimately, she decided that her discomfort was caused by the importance associated with his being truthful in this matter.  

"No.  Look, I figured that I've simply grown too dependent on the neuropressure, and I didn't want to bother you."  He cocked his head thoughtfully. "Is that what's happened?  Some type of addiction to neuropressure?"

T'Pol briefly wished that was a possibility.  She also briefly yearned for the situation to be different, and for it not to be Commander Tucker's right to know the truth.  

"T'Pol?"

_*The potential pleasantness of alternate possibilities does not change the truth of the present, * _ T'Pol scowled herself.  "You have not become 'addicted' to neuropressure, Charles.  I will explain what I believe has occurred, but before I do, I want to make it clear that I would have warned you of the possibility if I had believed it possible to transpire with your one of your species."

"What are you referring to exactly?"

"When we first met, you extended your hand, and I refused to return the gesture. Do you recall that incident?"  At Trip's nod, she continued,  "I believe you took my rejection quite personally, though there was no need for you to have."

"I know. Vulcans don't like to touch, right?"

"That is correct. Are you aware why?"

Trip shook his head. "No. I just assumed it was because of that heightened smell.  I wouldn't want to touch species that I thought stunk either." 

"That is not why."  Unconsciously, T'Pol began to pace.  "Vulcans are telepathic.  Our touch telepathy is especially developed."  

"So . . . you don't like to touch because when you do, you can feel what other people are thinking?"

"It takes a great deal of concentration to hear other's thoughts, and such events are frowned upon by the Vulcan government.  However, basic emotions and thoughts can – and are – broadcast through touch."

Trip's eyes visibly widened. "Then the neuropressure sessions – oh, T'Pol, they must be awful for you!"  

The waves of concern washed over her and T'Pol wondered if that concern would still be present when she revealed what had occurred.  "They were difficult, in the beginning," she admitted. "However, I soon grew accustomed to them."

"I'm sorry."

That was not a response she had been expecting.  "For what do you express remorse?"

"If I had known, I could have . . . I don't know, I could have been less emotional. Or tried, anyway."

T'Pol stopped pacing and returned to the side of his bed. "You are human.  It is expected that you will be emotional." When he smiled, she forced herself to continue, as much as she did not wish to.  "I grew so accustomed to the sessions that I failed to realize  . . . I failed to notice that our touching had instilled an accidental . . . bond."

Trip frowned and looked genuinely confused, as could be expected from a species that had neither telepathic nor bonding capabilities.  "What do you mean by a 'bond'?"

"A bond is a telepathic link.  Between Vulcan couples, it enables them to share thoughts. You and I have not linked that deeply; however, given the content of your dreams and my own personal experience, I believe we are sharing an empathetic link whereby sensations and emotions are felt."

T'Pol waited for the anger she was sure would accompany her revelation.  She received none.  In its place was surprise and curiosity. "What exactly do you mean by your own 'personal experience'?" he asked.

"I have been able to sense several strong emotions from you since you returned from your first visit to the planet."

"Oh. Why haven't I been able to sense anything from you? I mean, I know  you suppress your emotions, but –"

"You have been."  

Commander Tucker's look indicated his skepticism.  "T'Pol, I'm not a telepath, but I'm pretty sure I'd be able to recognize if I was sensing anything from you."

"Perhaps that would be true, if your connection was manifesting itself during your waking hours."  T'Pol resumed her pacing. It seemed a natural state.  "Shortly after you departed I received an encrypted message from Soval."

The rise in his anxiety was accompanied by a shift in his position as he threw his legs over the side of the bed. "Bad news?"

"Not as bad as it could have been," T'Pol replied honestly.  "However, Soval did express his distaste for what he views as my abandoning the path of Surak.  His news was accompanied by distressful dreams in which I had to chose between Vulcan and the _Enterprise _crew.  You were absent from the crew, I called for you, but you did not answer."

He stood then, and crossed the gulf between them.  T'Pol stopped pacing, as it no longer seemed a natural state. "Hey,  I'll always be here when you need me, T'Pol."

She took a moment to observe the look of earnest desperation, realized how far their relationship had come in three years and wondered how the man standing in front of her could worry about how it began.  "I do not doubt that.  You are, after all, quite stubborn. However, I attribute your absence in my dream state to your absence and our bond."

"Oh. Hey, since we've both been having a crappy week without any sleep, maybe we should have a therapy session before we attempt sleep again?"

"That would seem prudent. Disrobe."

Mirth flooded through their connection but T'Pol waited until he had removed his shirt and positioned himself on the bed before asking, "Why does the word 'disrobe' bring you so much pleasure, Charles?"

He turned sharply to give her a worried look as she settled behind him.  "Hey, that bond it really lets you know pretty much everything I'm feeling? That could become embarrassing."

"I will teach you shielding techniques when the time becomes available.  Perhaps once we arrive back to Earth."

"We'll add it to our list of things to do when we get back," he agreed cheerfully as he relaxed under her fingers.  "Along with a good thorough reading of _The Wizard of Oz." _

"Turn around.  I was under the impression you were not interesting in a 'book club.'" T'Pol noted the wince that accompanied her recitation of his words back to him.  

"No one said anything about a club, T'Pol." 

"I see. In that case I shall look forward to our reading."

"Okay, now it's your turn."  

T'Pol turned with her back facing him and removed her shirt.  

~~~

"We should go in now."

"No.  Let them finish their 'therapy.' Our evidence will be greater."

~~

"I look forward to our reading too, T'Pol."  

They continued in amicable silence, both feeling more relaxed than they had in weeks.  

"That is sufficient. Thank you, Charles," T'Pol said as she pulled the shirt back over her head. 

"You're –"  Commander Tucker was cut off in mid sentence as his room filled with armed colonists, lead by Hogan himself. "What the hell is going on here?"

"Keep your hands where we can see them," Hogan replied. "T'Pol of Vulcan, you are under arrest for indecency."

"Indecency?" Trip snapped.  "You're wearing loincloths!" 

"Yes, but I am not female," Hogan answered, as though that explained everything. "You, Mr. Tucker, will return to your ship immediately. T'Pol will be coming with us to our lovely Allorian style jail."

"The hell she will," Trip argued.

"Commander," T'Pol said quietly.  "You will return to the ship. That is an order."

"But-"

"You can do nothing here." 

Trip looked from T'Pol to the guards and back to T'Pol again before coming to the horrid realization that she was correct.  They were outnumbered, and neither he nor T'Pol had a phaser.  Once he got back to the ship, they could work out a rescue.  Feeling utterly hopeless, he watched as T'Pol was handcuffed.  

"It will do you little good to resist, T'Pol. Those are Andorian style handcuffs.  It turns out that they are quite adept at containing Vulcans."  

"Come," a man Trip didn't recognize stood at his side with a rifle pointed towards him.  Reluctantly, Trip started to walk towards the door, T'Pol's voice reaching him before he was completely out of earshot. 

"Thank you for being logical."

The knowledge that he was behaving logically did not help sooth Trip's guilt at leaving T'Pol behind.  *_I'll be back,*_ he promised silently, willing her to hear him through their bond.  *_And when I do, you'd better be okay, because if you're not, I'll kill Hogan with my own two hands.*  _

~~

To Be Continued. . . 


	14. T'Pol's Brain

**To Have Learned Nothing At All**

_Chapter 14_

_T'Pol's Brain_

* * *

"What do you mean, arrested?" Archer's demand was a combination of anger, irritation, and confusion. None of these were necessarily directed at Trip, but he received the brunt of the emotions, nonetheless.

Malcolm's reply was a little less hostile. "What reason could they possibly have had to arrest T'Pol?"

In the middle of his panic, Trip had a hysterical realization that Malcolm's question was the first sign of order or logic to have appeared in the conversation since Trip had arrived back on the ship over ten minutes ago. _If T'Pol was here, we would have reached that point earlier. It_ was, perhaps, a sign of the value T'Pol had to _Enterprise__. _Trip preferred not to think of that right now.

"They arrested her for indecency," Trip related, not looking forward to the inevitable response to that revelation.

The response manifested itself in a very confused look from Malcolm and a furrowing of the brow from the Captain. Had the situation been not less serious, Trip might have laughed.

"I didn't think Vulcans were capable of being indecent," Malcolm muttered.

"Look, she wasn't being 'indecent,' okay?" Trip snapped, more impatiently than necessary.

"Then why did they arrest her?" The Captain asked.

_Because they're evil, xenophobic assholes? "_Since we entered the Expanse, T'Pol's been giving me Vulcan neuropressure –"

"Oh, bloody hell," Malcolm grumbled softly next to him. It was an action that earned the tactical officer a glare.

"Did you say something, Malcolm?" Archer questioned.

"Just . . . bloody hell, Sir. I can't imagine why Vulcan physical therapy is considered indecency, Captain," Malcolm responded smoothly, apparently not bothered in the least by telling a direct lie to his commanding officer.

"Vulcan physical therapy? Is that what this 'neuropressure' is?" Archer asked.

_Thank you, Malcolm. _"Pretty much. I've been needin' it since Lizzy's death, and the Expanse messed with T'Pol's sleep too. . . so, I reciprocated."

Archer's frown deepened. "They arrested her for performing physical therapy on you? That doesn't make any sense."

"Nothing about them makes any sense," Trip responded, his tone a bit more peevish one than he had intended to use with the Captain.

If Archer was bothered by Trip's tone, he didn't show it. "Archer to Bridge."

"Go ahead, Captain."

"Travis, have Hoshi get me Mayor Lewis, and patch him through to the Command Center."

"Aye, Sir."

Ending the connection, Archer turned his attention back to Trip and Malcolm. "We've been fighting to prevent an out and out war with the Xindi for a year now. I don't want to have succeeded only to cause a Civil War amongst our own people. I'm going to try my best to talk some sense into Lewis."

"He won't listen, Captain. These colonists –"

"I realize it may come to that, Trip. Which is why Malcolm is going to ready his men while I talk to the Mayor. I want to be prepared in case diplomacy fails. You're both dismissed."

In the corridor, Malcolm clapped his hand on Trip's shoulder. "We'll get her back, one way or the other."

"The only way we're going to get her back is going down there and _taking _her back. There's not a colonist down there who would know reason if it crawled up their leg and bit them in the ass."

Giving Trip another sympathetic look, Malcolm murmured, "What I can't figure out, though, is how they managed to know what was going on. When we were there, I never saw any indication of any sort of security cameras anywhere."

* * *

Doctor Phlox had once relayed to T'Pol the opinion that Vulcans have a much higher pain threshold than their human counterparts. At the time, T'Pol had agreed. It was logical, after all, to conclude that a more disciplined species would be in greater control of all of their bodily functions. When T'Pol awoke in the in the human colony's prison, however, she recognized a revision of that opinion may have been necessary. The intensity of the throbbing ache just below her left ear afforded her no other alternative.

Attempting to forget her discomfort, T'Pol focused on her surroundings. Admittedly, T'Pol knew very little about Earth's prison structures. Her time on Earth simply hadn't provided an opportunity to visit the facilities. However, from the little information that she had learned, she expected the holding cell Hogan was escorting her to be a hybrid between the _Enterprise__'s _brig, and the barred containment cells of Earth's recent history. When their final destination turned out to be a reasonable facsimile of a medical facility instead, T'Pol was considerably disconcerted. She also was not entirely certain that she was relieved to discover her previous hypothesis to be incorrect.

Regardless of the medical instruments that adorned the walls of the room, T'Pol had no immediate means of escape. She was still securely tied to the same cold metal chair that she had been escorted to immediately following Commander Tucker's departure. The Andorian metal straps which held her feet and hands were still ten degrees cooler than could be comfortable, and would have made her shiver, had her Vulcan control not refused that response permission to occur. In addition to being too cool for her skin, the straps were also unnecessarily tight. While not quite tight enough to draw blood, they were definitely tight enough to leave their shape branded into her wrists and ankles, presuming, of course, that the colonists let her live that long.

As she clinched and unclenched her fists, T'Pol reflected on the Andorian design and briefly wondered if Shran himself had exchanged the manacles for some human luxury, perhaps an alcoholic beverage, if the Andorian Commander's actions in the Expanse had been any indication.

_Illogical, _she scolded herself. As much as she was loathe to admit it, Shran was capable of some degree of civilization. He had, appointed himself a friend of the humans –that was a small indication of good taste – even if he did inst on calling them by the illogical moniker of "pinkskins." Frequently, T'Pol's Vulcan reserve was the only thing preventing her from pointing out the obvious fact t hat all humans were not nearly as. . . pink as the Captain, Lieutenant Reed, or Commander Tucker. Though Commander Tucker was the most visually pleasing at his pinkest, when his skin tone contrasted with his hair. . . nicely.

The entry of Hogan interrupted any further contemplation T'Pol may have had on Andorian-Human relationships, or Vulcan-Human ones, for that matter. "Hello, T'Pol. Are you comfortable?"

"I am not, as I suspect you already know."

Hogan laughed. In her time with humans, T'Pol had grown to have pleasant associations with the sound. When Hogan laughed, however, she could summon none of the pleasant connections. "You know, you claim otherwise, but I highly suspect that Vulcans have a pretty developed sense of humor."

Ignoring his irrelevancy, T'Pol focused on more pertinent matters. "What do you plan to do with me?"

"Ah, and always so blunt and to the point. I can appreciate that."

"Perhaps you can show your appreciation by answering my question."

"Of course. It is your right, by our law. Well, T'Pol, you've been accused, and found guilty of indecency under our laws. As we speak, the evidence has been sent to Earth's government. Typically, the sentence is death. However, for you, we have something special in mind."

Perhaps my sentence is to be forced to listen to your insufferable gloating? Rather than give Hogan the satisfaction of further questioning, T'Pol waited patiently for the man to continue.

His smile turned to a confused frown. "Don't you want to know what our something special is?"

"I am sure you will tell me when you are ready."

"Do you have any idea how many colonists originally settled here, T'Pol?"

"I do not."

"Three hundred and twelve. Of those three hundred and twelve, one hundred have either been executed or forced to leave the planet, for failure to follow the rules."

Given the evidently harsh rules of this planet, you should be thankful that the latter number is not higher. T'Pol failed to understand what the population of the planet had to do with her. Thus, she continued to listen as Hogan waxed philosophical.

"Up until recently, those seemed the only alternatives. However, our scientists have recently come up with a possible solution. Tell me, T'Pol, do Vulcans ever gorge themselves on any one particular food?"

"Overindulgence is illogical."

"I'll consider that a 'no.' We humans, on the other hand, do 'overindulge' once in a while." Again, Hogan's mouth twisted into a smile as unpleasant as the same shape was pleasant on Commander Tucker's. "When I was five, my mother caught me eating a oatmeal cookie before dinner, even though I'd been warned ahead of time not to do so. My mother caught me red-handed, as the saying goes. Tell me, T'Pol, what would a Vulcan mother do in that situation?"

Though T'Pol wondered about the reasoning behind discussing Vulcan childrearing practices with this man, an instinctual dislike of Hogan made her believe it unwise to refuse to answer. _Besides, there will be no discernable positive benefit to my refusal. _T'Pol did not doubt, however, that Hogan was quite capable of producing negative results. "She would increase the child's meditation time."

Hogan smirked. "_Meditation_? How very. . . _Vulcan _to assume something so useless would be of any benefit. My mother believed in a much more . . . proactive solution. Knowing how much I adored oatmeal cookies, she made ten batches – and made me eat every single one of them."

"I suspect you became sufficiently ill from that encounter."

"Oh, yes. To this day, each time I smell the scent of oatmeal cookies, I get sick to my stomach. I've not had one since. In fact, I pretty much despise all cookies." Leaning back, Hogan crossed his arms, turned his head slightly and said lazily, "Now, guys." In response to the command, the door again opened and two loin cloth clad men entered, bringing with them a large viewscreen, which T'Pol immediately associated with movie night aboard _Enterprise__. _

It was at that point that T'Pol wondered exactly what the colonists' stance on technology was. On one hand, they claimed to shun it – as the eyewear and bathing facilities would seem to indicate. Yet, there were also plenty of examples of acquired alien technology as well as human advancements such as the medical facility and the viewscreen.

Turning back towards T'Pol, Hogan asked, "Do they have cookies on Vulcan?"

"No."

"That's too bad, T'Pol, because we're going to be using the same type of punishment on you that my mother used on me all those years ago. Our government has been hesitant to okay the tests for any humans. While Vulcans certainly are inferior to us, I suppose you are a bit more advanced than lab rats. So, I really _must _thank you for breaking our laws, though I am quite impressed you passed the meat challenge."

Again, T'Pol thought of gagh, Da'Tarq, honor, and the "tests" she had been subjected to during her time with the Klingons. She knew that, had Da'Tarq been here, he would have advocated something akin to ripping out Hogan's spleen, or perhaps his liver, because it was quite obvious the human had no conception of that which mattered so much to the Klingons T'Pol had known.

"You seem to get as much pleasure from Commander Tucker as I once got from oatmeal cookies, T'Pol. As one scientist to another, I'm sure you can appreciate my desire to test that theory." Hogan stood and motioned for the other men to follow him.

It was only minutes later that the viewscreen flickered on to reveal herself standing next to a recently awoken Commander Tucker.

_"Shortly after you departed I received an encrypted message from Soval."_

"Bad news?"

_"Not as bad as it could have been However, Soval did express his distaste for what he views as my abandoning the path of Surak. His news was accompanied by distressful dreams in which I had to chose between Vulcan and the __Enterprise__ crew. You were absent from the crew, I called for you, but you did not answer."_

_ "Hey, I'll always be here when you need me, T'Pol."_

_"I do not doubt that. You are, after all, quite stubborn. However, I attribute your absence in my dream state to your absence and our bond."_

Though the pain in her head was still evident, the significance of the discomfort lessened as another sensation began to develop. At first, T'Pol mistook the sensation as the simple contentment that she had become accustomed to in Commander Tucker's presence. As the scene progressed, it became obvious to T'Pol that the sensation was much stronger than mere contentedness.

_"Oh. Hey, since we've both been having a crappy week without any sleep, maybe we should have a therapy session before we attempt sleep again?"_

_"That would seem prudent. Disrobe."_

T'Pol's back straightened and her fists curled as an even stronger wave of the same sensation washed over her. The scientist in T'Pol was able to recognize that whatever was happening to her was not a natural biological response. Disregarding the obvious fact that no Vulcan ever experienced emotions such as this one with such startling clarity, the feeling was too regulated, and increased on specific intervals, as though it was being artificially manipulated.

Her scientific inquiry was cut short as the view screen showed her hands roaming across Commander Tucker's back. Had T'Pol been a different species, it is quite likely she would have gasped at the intensity of the sensation that overwhelmed her. As a Vulcan, the most she allowed herself was a deep breath.

For the second time in two weeks, T'Pol found herself attempting to categorize a human emotion. While neither Ensign Sato nor Doctor Phlox were near to give advice, T'Pol realized that her best hope for controlling what was happening to her was to first diagnose the sensation.

It was a complicated sensation, and not at all a painful one. In fact, it was the very opposite of pain, or of the panic she had felt during Commander Tucker's absence.

_"No one said anything about a club, T'Pol." _

_"I see. In that case I shall look forward to our reading."_

_"Okay, now it's your turn." _

As Commander Tucker's fingers began to manipulate the nerves in her back, the sensation doubled in intensity. It was as she watched herself and the engineer on screen that T'Pol realized the sensation she was experiencing was not a foreign one. On the contrary, it was the very same sensation she had often known during her neuropressure sessions with Commander Tucker.

It was pleasure.

Though not a negative sensation at all, the intensity of the pleasure was inappropriate for any Vulcan who professed to follow the path of Surak. Wallowing in any emotion was a direct affront to everything Surak had stood for. T'Pol closed her eyes for a moment, in an attempt to steady herself, and immediately felt a small, painful jolt.

"Tsk, tsk, T'Pol," came Hogan's voice, though she saw no sign of him. "We've provided such excellent entertainment for you. We expect you to watch it."

_"I look forward to our reading too, T'Pol." _

_"That is sufficient. Thank you, Charles."_

On screen, she was pulling her shirt back on. T'Pol waited in anticipation for the sensation she was experiencing to end. Instead, the screen returned to the beginning, as did the waves of pleasure.

Silently, T'Pol began to recite the meditation recitals she had learned as a child. Though they were not immediately successful, T'Pol was certain that she possessed the proper techniques to suppress the unwelcome emotion. The alternative was not an option – not for a Vulcan.

* * *

To Be Continued. . .

A/N: This chapter was severely delayed for two main reasons. One, I was working on finishing up "Fulfilled." Two, recent world events by certain "soldiers" who deserve to be dropped in the Sahara without water made me seriously contemplate dropping this story all together. When I decided to continue it, I had to re-shape and re-work the plot. Regardless, T'Pol's experience is still difficult for me to write, much more so than it would have been prior to recent events.

A/N, II: What's going on with T'Pol may or may not make sense at this stage. More will be revealed later.


	15. Courage or the Lack Thereof

**To Have Learned Nothing At All**

_Chapter 15_

_Courage Or the Lack Thereof_

_A/N: A side effect of season three of Enterprise: When writing fanfic, I now must say to myself "What would Airlock Archer Do?"_

* * *

Following a none-too productive conversation with Mayor Lewis, Archer summoned his armory officer.

"Malcolm, are you absolutely certain we can't use the transporter?"

"No, Sir. The ionic distortion is too severe. Both Commander Tucker and I have been trying to overcome the problem, but our transporters simply aren't strong enough."

Archer rubbed his throbbing temples in frustration. "I guess that leaves us no choice. We'll be doing this the hard way. Your men are standing by?"

"I have two Starfleet teams, and a MAACO contingent armed and waiting, Sir."

Archer's reply was cut short by the beep of the comm unit. Jabbing the button with a bit more force than absolutely necessary, his answer was more of a bark than a command. "Go ahead."

"Captain, I have Admiral Forrest waiting to speak to you."

"Put him through, Hoshi." Turning to face Reed, Archer instructed, "Malcolm, assemble your teams in the shuttle bay. I'll meet you there when I'm through."

"Aye, Sir."

"Dismissed."

The minutes it took for Admiral Forrest's face to appear on screen felt like an eternity to Archer. In the interval, the Captain could only focus on his missing crewmember, and begin planning for the rescue. When Forrest's face finally came into view, a small feeling of dread began to manifest itself deep in the pit of Archer's stomach. The look on Forrest's face reminded the Captain of the expression worn by the same man years ago, when news of Henry Archer's death had come directly from the then Commodore's mouth. The expression did not bode well.

"It's quite a mess you have on your hands, Jon," the Admiral said by way of greeting. Though Archer believed it was supposed to be a method of breaking the ice, it only deepened the nagging feeling in his gut.

"Yes, it is, and Mayor Lewis isn't responding well to diplomacy."

"What do you plan on doing?"

"I'm going to take Lieutenant Reed and several of his men down to the planet and take back my science officer."

Archer's feeling of dread increased exponentially as the Admiral shook his head. "I can't let you do that, Captain."

"Why not?"

Forrest ignored his tone. Instead, the older man managed to look even more tired than he had when the conversation had began. "As I already explained to you, these colonists and Earth have a . . . tenuous relationship, at best."

"But they are a _colony _of Earth," Archer argued. "They are obligated to follow –"

"They're obligated to follow very little of the typical restraints that Earth's colonies agree to," Forrest interrupted.

The feeling of dread had long ago been replaced by a greater sense of irritation. "And why exactly are they so special?"

"A lot can happen in a year, Jon. While _Enterprise_was in the Expanse, Earth was in a state of chaos. Starfleet was doing everything it could, but a large portion of the population – perhaps the majority – wasn't sure that it was enough."

"Seven million people died in the Xindi Attack. It's only natural to assume that there'd be some panic."

"It was a lot more serious than panic. There were rallies, protests, marches – all against the Starfleet Program."

Archer wondered briefly if everyone on Earth had regressed to the same mental capacity that Mayor Lewis had demonstrated. "That doesn't make any sense. If we didn't have Starfleet, Earth couldn't have resolved the Xindi Conflict."

"Some believed that if Starfleet didn't exist, there wouldn't have _been _a Xindi Conflict. Our policies have been under intense scrutiny for the past several months. News of _Enterprise__'_s success soothed much of the unrest . . . but there were still large pockets of disorder. Over three thousand of our people chose to relocate elsewhere. The APA I colony is a headquarters of sort. It contains members of all ten major dissent groups. While some of their policies differ, their basic belief is the same – that an Earth with Starfleet was no Earth they wanted to be part of."

"Yet we continue to protect them?"

Admiral Forrest sighed tiredly. "They're still human, Jon. We can't abandon them."

"But I'm supposed to abandon my first officer?"

"Our agreement with the colonists of all ten APA colonies clearly states that no Starfleet personnel will interfere in their government – _and _that anyone who visits their colony is subject to the laws. T'Pol clearly broke their indecency law."

"Admiral, I can appreciate the sensitivity of the situation, but without T'Pol's help on this mission, _Enterprise_wouldn't have been successful. We have to rescue her. We owe her that much."

Forrest took a moment before he responded. "I am well aware of how much we owe T'Pol. Hell, if it wasn't for her influence, _Enterprise__'_s mission would have ended two years ago. But, as appreciative as I am for her contributions, I also know that the period of unrest Earth experienced is only now dying down. I won't risk starting a Civil War in order to rescue her."

"Admiral –"

"I gave you a direct order, Captain. It isn't up for discussion."

"What about the Vulcans? Have you thought about how this is going to affect our relationship with them?" _It's not like it's ever been an easy relationship in the first place._

"Ambassador Soval has been apprised of the situation. He assures me that 'the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.'"

Archer snorted in disgust. "Cold blooded bastard."

"Maybe. But in this instance, he's right, Jon. Are my orders perfectly clear, Captain?"

Archer managed not to sound as bitter as he was when he responded. "Yes, Sir."

"Good. Before _Enterprise_returns to Earth, you need to go to APA VI to pick up an additional geologist, proceed to APA VIII to pick up another engineer, and take them both back to APA I. After that is completed, you will return immediately home to Earth."

"Aye, Sir."

"I'll send you a copy of the APA peace agreement, as well as a copy of T'Pol's trial that Mayor Lewis sent us. You should be happy to know that APA VI tends to be a bit more. . . friendly than the other nine."

"That's good to hear, Sir."

Perhaps the sarcasm in Archer's voice as a bit more than he intended. The Admiral shook his head firmly. "Hurry home, Captain. There's a celebration waiting on you."

After the connection ended, Archer sat back in his chair and wondered how many people on _Enterprise_would actually feel like celebrating once he carried out the Admiral's orders.

* * *

Hogan barely glanced up from his spot at the monitoring station when Lewis entered. "Was the chat with Captain Hero a productive one?"

"It wasn't. I'm a little concerned, to tell the truth."

"I wouldn't worry about it, really. Starfleet's too busy patting itself on the back for stopping the war to risk bothering us. Was Archer as arrogant as all the rest of the Starfleet Oligarchy?"

"He did seem rather full of himself," Lewis conceded. "What is T'Pol's progress?"

"It turns out that all of those rumors about Vulcan mental control were true. She has been amazingly stubborn in her determination not to succumb to the device."

"In other words, we are risking a potential conflict with Starfleet over a method that isn't effective."

"It's going to be effective. Obviously, I simply have to increase the amount of pleasure she is experiencing while exposed to images of her indecency."

"I am still skeptical that this will work."

"It HAS to!" Realizing that he had spoken more forcefully than he intended, Hogan took a deep breath and continued more calmly. "If this method works, we can make our dissident citizens develop aversions to their abominable behavior."

"I still maintain that our current methods are fine."

"Our 'current methods' have caused us to lose nearly a third of our colony's population. At this rate, there will be nothing left of the APA revolution. Is that what you want? For all of humanity to be reduced to sniveling, spineless, morally bankrupt Starfleet worshippers?"

"Of course it isn't. I simply think your method would be more effective if you were using a negative means of punishment. Forcing the Vulcan to 'enjoy' herself hardly seems productive."

Hogan sighed and wondered if all the previous times he remembered having this conversation were only figments of his imagination. "Didn't your mother ever warn you about too much of a good thing? Besides, people do things because they enjoy them. We've tried negative stimulus before – it hasn't worked for that very reason. Making their own enjoyment their punishment will be a far better deterrent of repeat offenses."

"I suppose," Lewis said doubtfully.

* * *

"What the hell were you thinking?"

"Captain-"

"No, scratch that. It's obvious you weren't thinking. Not one damn bit – either one of you. If you had, you wouldn't have been doing _that _while you were on a mission."

"It's just neuropressure, Captain." In the confines of the Command Center, Trip felt himself wince under Archer's scrutiny.

"I don't care what you call it. Do you have any idea what this _looks _like? Because it damn well doesn't look like 'Vulcan physical therapy!'"

"But that's all it _is,_" Trip insisted. "It just helps –"

"I told you, I don't care what its purpose was. If you – or T'Pol – had thought for one moment, you would have realized that while you were on this _mission_, stripping naked and rubbing each other down was the last thing you should have been doing. Especially. . . with the conversation you were having."

It occurred to Trip that the part of T'Pol that so closely guarded her privacy would not appreciate other people having viewed that conversation. _But all of Starfleet Command, Soval, and the Captain have seen it. _"Look, Captain, I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't do T'Pol a lot of good right now, does it?"

Trip's tone was a bit sharper than he'd ever used with the Captain before. "Don't you think I know that?"

"You had already visited the planet, Trip. You should have known –"

"The people walk around in loin cloths, Captain. Why the hell should I have suspected that T'Pol would be arrested for 'indecency' for taking off her shirt for a _medical procedure?" _

"You knew they were overly sensitive. Precautions could have been taken. They _should_ have been."

"I know." Trip's voice was almost a whisper. The guilt was combining with the exhaustion and threatening to overwhelm him. "Trust me, I know." _And I'm sorry I wasn't smart enough to realize it before T'Pol paid for my oversight._

It may well have been the desperate tone in Trip's voice that made Archer stop his tirade. For the first time since the mess with APA I had began, the Captain took a good long look at his chief engineer. "According to what you told T'Pol, you haven't been sleeping very well lately. Go see Phlox, see what he can give you for that."

_Sleep? How in the hell am I supposed to sleep? "_But, Captain –"

"Just a nap, Trip, not a prolonged amount of sleep. When you wake up, I need you to gather all the information you have on the sewer system to present to the engineer from APA VIII."

The very thought made Trip nauseous with anger, but he suppressed it, out of respect for the man standing in front of him. "Aye, Sir. Captain? What about T'Pol?"

"We've been ordered to leave her behind."

"We can't do that!"

"Damn it, Trip, do you think I want to? But I can't just disobey a direct order from Starfleet Command."

Many times in Trip's life he'd said things he later regretted when he was angry. Now was possibly one of those times. "Maybe you'd feel differently if she was a human member of the crew."

Closing the distance between them, Archer said very quietly, "I know you're upset, and I know you're letting your personal feelings interfere with the mission at hand. So, I'm going to pretend I didn't hear you say that."

Ignoring the warning tone, Trip pressed ahead. "We're just going to leave her down there, on the planet? To let those people do . . . .whatever they want? And we're still going to help them?"

"I haven't given up, Trip. I've been reading over the APA agreements, and there appears to be some degree of disagreement between the different groups. We might be able to use that to our advantage, just as we did with the Xindi. But regardless, you have your orders, Commander."

"Aye, Captain."

"Dismissed."

The walk to sickbay was not a pleasant one. If the nightmares had been bad before, Trip was certain they were going to absolutely unbearable now.

* * *

To Be Continued. . .


	16. And Wake up Where the Clouds Are

To Have Learned Nothing At All

Chapter 16

_And Wake up Where the Clouds Are _

__

Additional disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek, The Wizard of Oz, or Stargate, all which I borrow liberally from in this chapter. Sayings of Surak come from the Vulcan Language Institute and/or the TOS ep, "The Savage Curtain."

A/N: I've said this before, and I'll say it again. This is completely A/U – nothing past "Impulse," has occurred in this universe, only because I started this story last year, and it does have a pre-determined beginning, middle, and end that I honestly don't feel like putting the extra effort into to change the entire story just because the on-screen story has gone in a direction that clashes with what's here. Thus, if things don't quite jive, or IF THINGS SEEM FAMILIAR, eh, life happens. In other words, THIS IS AN ALTERNATE UNIVERSE.

* * *

Thirty-two times T'Pol had been forced to re-watch her actions with Commander Tucker. Thirty-two times she had forced herself to reinforce her Vulcan shields against the emotional display that the obvious manipulation of her emotions was threatening to unleash. Thirty-two times T'Pol had sworn silently to herself that she would not lose control again, as she had in the Expanse.

_Or has it been thirty-three times? _

The realization of her uncertainty made T'Pol re-double her efforts. Breathing deeply, she began to recite passages of Surak, in an attempt to obtain the relaxation state that currently appeared to be beyond her grasp.

_Logic is the cement of our civilization with which we ascend from chaos, using reason as our guide._

_Wide experience increases wisdom, provided the experience is not sought purely for the stimulation of sensation._

As the intense sensation of pleasure that completely contradicted both of Surak's sayings overwhelmed her once again, T'Pol was startled out of her attempts at relaxation. Involuntarily, her wrists jerked against of her constraints. The metal, which had once been too cool to the touch, had increased in temperature and was now pleasurably warm.

_For such a supposedly xenophobic species, they are unexpectedly knowledgeable about Vulcan physiology. _The scientist in T'Pol wanted time to wonder about that, realizing that perhaps how they had obtained such information might be important. But there was room for only so much struggle in any mind, even that of a Vulcan. As there were already two warring factions struggling for dominance within her mind, there was little room for an anthropological analysis.

_There is no other wisdom and no other hope for us but that we grow wise._

_Cast out fear. There is no room for anything else until you cast out fear._

Surak was no help to her as the final wave of pleasure that came in accompany to Commander Tucker's final words on screen.

_"I look forward to our reading too, T'Pol." _

Involuntarily, her hands jerked again against her manacles once again. This time she could not help but wonder whether the instruments confining her had been traded by the Andorians before or after _Enterprise_had encountered them in the Expanse.

_Perhaps they traded afterwards, in retaliation for not being able to use the Xindi weapon against my home planet. _

Recognizing the thought to be an irrational one, T'Pol pushed it aside as the images finally ceased projection. Vaguely, she heard a warning from Hogan not to try to escape. As two overly rough hands grasped each one of her arms, she became aware that it was entirely too exhausted for any type of escape she may have been contemplated.

Thus, it was with little resistance that she was escorted to her cell. Ignoring the food that had been pre made for her, T'Pol promptly sat down and began to attempt to meditate.

* * *

_It was cold. Even amongst the sand, it was cold. _

_She was calling for him, again. But he couldn't reach her._

_"Trip. . . please. . . said you'd never leave. Trip, help." The voice was unmistakably T'Pol's. _

_Yet, Trip stood alone in the sand. It was sand unlike any he had seen in __Florida__, though it seemed familiar somehow._

_"T'Pol! T'Pol, where are you? I'm here, T'Pol!" he shouted to no avail._

_The ground was moving, though Trip didn't understand why. _

_"You must cast out your fear," said a voice to his right. Turning sharply, Trip was confronted with a lanky Vulcan male he'd never seen before. _

_"Who are you?" he demanded. "And where is T'Pol?"_

_"I am Surak, and T'Pol is in the same place you are. Parted but never parted, touching but never touching."_

_"What the hell does that mean?" _

_Suddenly, Surak began to smile. Though Trip didn't understand why, the sight unnerved him greatly. Slowly, Surak's smile morphed into a full laugh and his solemn black robes were replaced with a bright purple tunic. "Silly, silly creature. Come have fun with Sakon."_

_"Sakon?__ I thought your name was Surak." _

_"No, no. Surak is a stuffy old fellow that doesn't know how to have any fun."_

_"Trip!"__ The sound was so desperate that Trip simply began to run. He wasn't sure where he was going, but he knew he had to get there fast. _

_"I'm coming, T'Pol!"_

_"Please hurry, Trip," her voice pleaded. _

_The further Trip ran, the further away he felt. In agitation, he turned and began to run in the opposite direction. _

_"See there, T'Pol? He is abandoning you. You should leave the humans," said a voice that Trip recognized distinctly as Soval's. _

_"No, T'Pol, I'm not abandoning you. Help me find you!" _

_T'Pol's__ voice came again. "No, no more Trip."_

It was then that Trip woke up.

* * *

Alone in his quarters, Archer leaned back in the chair he'd positioned himself in shortly after Trip had left, and stretched his arms above his head until he heard a satisfying "snap." Archer wasn't entirely certain where the snap came from, but the combination of the feel and sound of the snap was immensely gratifying. Rolling his shoulders forward, Archer propped his elbows on the desk in front of him, closed his eyes, and massaged his eyelids.

_This is pointless,_ Archer grumbled internally. _There's absolutely nothing here that will help. Nothing at all._

_But I have to find some way to get her back. She's my crew member. My responsibility. _

Memories from his childhood came at that point, completely against his will. In fact, they came in spite of Archer's best attempts to constrain them. As vivid as the useless words on the screen in front of him, Archer recalled sitting at his grandfather's knee, regaling in tales of the Eugenics Wars.

_"It was a darker time, Johnny. People killed one another with little thought or remorse."_

_"But not everyone, right, Grandpa?"_

_"No, not everyone.__ There of course was my father, your great grandfather -_"

_"And Colonel O'Neill, right?__ He's my favorite, Grandpa."_

_"Ah, Colonel O'Neill.__ He's always been one of my favorites, too, and you're right, Johnny. He was flawed, but basically a good, loyal man, especially when it came to his crew."_

_"That's because he said that no one gets left behind, right, grandpa?"_

_"That's right, Johnny."_

__

_No one gets left behind. _

For a very long time, Archer had looked to Jack O'Neill as a hero. Of course, given the role of O'Neill's team in stopping Khan, most people even remotely familiar with history viewed him in a similar light. Still, the colonel had been the sole focus of Archer's reports from the time he'd learned how to write, all the through the Academy. Only Henry Archer ranked higher in Jonathan's estimation of what a person should be.

Now, alone in his quarters, on his way to APA VI to pick up a replacement geologist, Archer wondered what Jack O'Neill would think of his actions.

_No one gets left behind._

Somehow, Archer couldn't see Colonel O'Neill abandoning his second-in-command, orders be damned.

_Because no one gets left behind._

Archer's musings were interrupted by the sound of the comm. "Lieutenant Reed to Captain Archer."

"This is Archer. What is it, Lieutenant?"

"Commander Tucker and I have been reviewing the scans that Anders took on the planet, along with the information gathered by T'Pol."

"And?"

"We believe we've discovered what's causing the seismic distortions on the APA I colony."

"Well?"

"It would be easier to explain in the command center, Sir."

Resisting the urge to sigh, Archer gave a nod that Malcolm couldn't see. "I'm on my way, Lieutenant."

After the connection ended, Archer reflected briefly that the senior ranking officer hadn't been the one to alert him. In all honesty, it didn't make a difference. On the other hand, it did bother the Captain, and he felt more than a slight twinge of guilt for the way he'd behaved earlier. Trip and T'Pol maybe _should_ have known better, but that didn't justify what the colonists had done, nor did it justify the Captain taking out his frustrations on his engineer because the true culprits were politically protected by Starfleet and Earth.

Turning off a screen which apparently held only useless and contradictory information, Archer stood and headed towards the command center. In the back of his mind, he hoped that whatever Trip and Malcolm had found would be useful.

* * *

To be Continued. . .

A/N: Yes, there was a gratuitous Stargate reference.


	17. A House Falls on Trip

To Have Learned Nothing At All

Chapter 17

**_A House Falls on Trip _**

**_A/N: Filler, mostly. But necessary filler. _**

* * *

"A security field?" Archer asked, perplexed.

"Yes, Sir. Since we received word about T'Pol's arrest, I've been trying to figure out how exactly the colonists were able to monitor their activities. While I down there helping with their 'security systems,' I saw nothing that would have sustained such a arrangement."

"I'd imagine that they'd want to keep such a structure known to only a few people," Trip commented.

"It's likely. From the information that T'Pol gathered, she and the Commander believe that there is an artificial structure in place right here." Malcolm pointed to the on screen projection of the rock layers that Anders had brought back with him after the first run.

"Is this the structure she asked us to monitor impulses from during her check in?"

Malcolm nodded. When he pressed another button, a chart appeared on screen, demonstrating the said impulses. "The amount of power being generated from this structure makes it a conceivable power source for as detailed of a security system as the colonists must have."

"Why do you believe they'd need something so elaborate just to monitor one room, or at maximum, two rooms?"

Malcolm fell quiet and turned an almost guilty gaze towards Trip.

"Because it wasn't just in the bedrooms that we were being monitored," Trip replied. As he spoke, his fingers rubbed massaged his temples. "The entire time T'Pol was working in the lab, they left the two of us alone. Given their dislike of other species, they'd almost certainly monitored us more closely, unless –"

"Unless they had some other means of watching them," Malcolm finished.

Archer wanted to believe his men, but he wasn't entirely convinced. "You're absolutely sure the colonists aren't using it for something else?"

"No, Sir, I'm not," Malcolm answered. "However, it's my best guess, given what we know."

"Well, it's something to keep in mind, Lieutenant. But most of the evidence seems pretty circumstantial to me."

"It is, Captain. I should done a more thorough job inspecting the rooms when we were there, but since I didn't, I can't say for certain."

"You didn't have any reason to suspect that they'd be spying, Malcolm."

The look on Malcolm's face said that the armory officer didn't buy it, but he abandoned the argument by nodding his head slightly. "They are a hard bunch to figure out, Captain. Some of them claim to hate technology, some claim to hate aliens, yet their planet is full of advanced technology, and a good deal of it is alien."

It was then that Archer had a glorious burst of hope. His optimism was tempered by the mood of the mission, but it was there, nonetheless. "Trip, T'Pol was certain this structure was what was causing the disturbances?"

"Yes," Trip responded. Archer found it troublesome that his chief engineer was being so reticent, but he momentarily ignored it. They both had bigger concerns at the present.

The optimism gave way to a smile. Noticing Archer's change in expression, Malcolm questioned, "Is that good news, Sir?"

"It could be, Malcolm. As you've already noticed, the APA colonists are very fractured. The geologist we're on our way to pick up just happens to be a member of the group that is against technology. In fact, his reluctance to re-board a starship was why the Enterprise was sent straight there, instead of stopping to pick him up first. If we can prove that a piece of technology is what's causing these seismic disturbances, maybe we can bring him to our advantage."

"What about the engineer?" It was the longest group of words that Trip had strung together since Archer had arrived, and the Captain was surprised to notice how relieved he was to hear them.

"The engineer's represents APA VIII. The Xindi attack apparently inspired them to retreat towards a more traditional lifestyle. She may be harder to persuade, given that her colony is the reason APA I has such strict anti-indecency laws in the first place. On the other hand, at least we aren't going to APA VII. It's where the most stringently anti-alien humans have settled." Archer conceded. "Malcolm, I want you to keep studying the data we have. See if you can figure a way to manipulate the effect of the structure. Trip – _Trip!" _ Archer abandoned his sentence and rushed to his friend's side, feeling the weight of the wall between them once he got closer. "Are you okay?"

It was a stupid question, Archer realized immediately. Trip was as pale as chalk, his eyes were wide, and he was shaking. Of course he wasn't okay.

Leaning against the bulkhead for support, Trip nodded in defiance of the truth. "I'm fine, Captain."

"The hell you are." Archer had meant it to come out as concern. Instead, it sounded as tyrannical as the lecture he'd given Trip hours before, even to Archer's own ears. "I want you to report directly to sickbay."

"There's nothing Phlox can do for me, Captain. I already know what's wrong, and so do you, half of the colony, and all of Starfleet," Trip retorted.

_All of Starfleet? "_Is it this. . . bond thing you have with T'Pol?"

"Yes."

Unfortunately, Malcolm wasn't a member of either of the aforementioned groups. "Bond?"

"T'Pol and I apparently have developed some type of mental link from the neuropressure."

"Mental link?"

"'ll explain later."

Trip's promise seemed to be enough for Malcolm and for one brief moment, the surge of jealousy Archer felt threatened to overtake him as he realized the closeness of their relationship. His duty as Captain triumphed over the childish feeling, however, and he focused on the scene at hand. "I thought you could only feel her through the bond when you were asleep?"

Trip slowly pushed himself off of the bulkhead he'd been clutching to for support. "That's how it used to be. But ever since I woke up from the nap. . . I don't know how to explain it. There's a sense of panic that isn't my own." He swallowed hard. "I'm pretty sure it's T'Pol."

Archer didn't want to think about what it meant for T'Pol to be panicking. What they could be doing to her. . . But the expression on Trip's face showed that he clearly was contemplating it. __

"Is there anyway you can block it out?" Archer asked.

"With all due respect, Captain, I can't. This bond is the only part of T'Pol I have left. It's the only way I know she's still. . . alive."

It was then, watching the pained expression on Trip's face and hating himself for not being able to find the words that would have come more naturally a year ago, that Archer knew that if they didn't find a way to bring back T'Pol, not only would he be letting down the spirit of Jack O'Neill, he'd lose Trip. Maybe not in body, but he'd lose Trip all the same. _More so than I already have._

"Sato to Archer."

"This is Archer. Go ahead."

"The Mayor of APA VIII has just notified us of a change in engineers."

"Did they say why?"

"Apparently they wanted some better acquainted with civil engineering, and the APA VIII engineer didn't qualify. After picking up Dr. Kehn on APA VI, we're to proceed to APA VII to pick up William Tucker."

"Thank you, Hoshi. Archer out." Archer slowly turned to face Trip before asking quietly, "Isn't your brother's name –"

"NO! I . . No. .. I sure as hell hope not. Billy . . . he wouldn't . . . _couldn't_ be a member of these people, especially not the most xenophobic ones. He's the kindest, gentlest guy I know."

" But. . . he also has a civil engineering degree from Stanford," Archer prodded gently, wondering when it had gotten so hard to do so.

"It could just be a coincidence," Malcolm assured his friend.

Stepping behind Malcolm, Archer recalled the information Admiral Forrest had sent. Along with the treaties, there was a full list of all of the colonists, which colony they belonged to, and their basic biographical information. Given that there were over one thousand names on the list, Archer had not yet bothered to read through it completely. When he came to William Tucker's name, he cursed quietly, but didn't say anything. Instead, he allowed Trip to read the information himself.

Trip repeated the information aloud, as though the mere thought of seeing it wasn't enough. "William Garth Tucker. . . February 1, 2126. . . Stanford. . . Jill and Robert. . . parents Catherine and Charles Tucker, Jr. . . siblings Elizabeth and Charles III."

Archer knew there must be something appropriate to say. But as Trip stood staring at the computer screen with his head drooped in despair, neither he nor Reed could fathom what it might be.

* * *

To Be Continued. . .

Only Four More Chapters! Yeah!


	18. Melting

**To Have Learned Nothing At All  
****Chapter 18  
**_**Melting**_   
**A/N: This isn't beta'ed, and is horribly long, so I apologize for the many mistakes I'm sure are found herein. **

* * *

[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]

_"Billy, Cody's in an awful lot of pain. I know you love him, but-"  
__"He's my friend, Trip, my best friend in the whole world."  
__"I know that, Billy."  
__"They can't kill him. They just can't!"  
__"You have to think about what's best for Cody."  
__"But i-if he dies, who's gonna play with me when I get home from school? Who's gonna make me feel better when I'm sick? Who's gonna play ball with me when you and Dad can't? Who's –"  
__"Billy, Cody's very sick. He's going to die either way. You can let him be put to sleep, and spare him a lot of pain, or you can let him go later, and make him suffer. It's up to you."_

[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]

For reasons he couldn't quite fathom, the memory of trying to coax Billy into allowing their parents to put Cody to sleep kept replaying in Trip's head as he sat across from his brother in the younger man's temporary quarters.

It was, as T'Pol would have no doubt pointed out, an illogical association to have. The William Tucker across from Trip bore precious little resemblance to the freckle faced little brother that had tagged along behind Trip like a miniature shadow during their childhoods.

Oh, it was a scene that their mother would have immediately recognized. Both Tuckers straddled their chairs backwards – something Trip's more luxurious quarters wouldn't have allowed. Occasionally, both Billy and Trip would pull upon the front legs of their chairs which placed them in the same perilous positions that had resulted in many scoldings by Catherine Tucker. Both seemed determined to out-balance the other, however subliminal that desire was now. But as many similarities that existed between their present day selves and the counterparts of their youth, there was one distinct difference. _That _Billy had looked upon his older brother with complete and utter adoration. _This _William looked upon his older brother with something akin to contempt.

For his part, Trip was attempting to sound civil, and understanding, when he was in fact confused and distraught. William apparently wasn't having the same difficulty.

"I've seen the footage of what _the Vulcan_ did."

"Her name is T'Pol." It seemed to Trip a very important detail.

"I just want to let you know, I don't blame you."

Trip blinked several times in response, trying to mentally comprehend what William had just said. "You don't _blame _me?"

"No. We've all heard the stories about what _they _can do. I realize she probably tricked you into doing that – what did you call it? Neuropressure?"

_He's your baby brother. Remember that. "_T'Pol didn't _trick _me into doing _anything. _The neuropressure is a type of Vulcan therapy."

"_Therapy?_Tell me, Trip, what type of therapy requires you to get practically entirely naked?_" _

"It was helping me – and her – to sleep. If you watched the footage used at T'Pol's _trial, _you should know that."

"I'm sure that's what she told you."

_He's the same Billy that used to beg me to make mud pies with him. _"What she _told me? _What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Think about it, Trip. The entire concept of _neuropressure_ doesn't make any sense. There's no way rubbing someone's back would help them get any sleep. In fact, if what the two of you were doing when the Vulcan was arrested was any indication, I would think it would make sleeping _more _difficult."

William's words were innocent enough, but the tone he used was far from it. Trip was willing to admit that the neuropressure sessions had been the foundation for some serious flirting between himself and T'Pol. However, they had also helped him through a very rough part of his life. To hear someone degrading the practices as something more sinister and hormonal infuriated him. "Those neuropressure sessions helped me tremendously. After Lizzie died, they were the only way I could get a good night's sleep. I don't know what I would have done without T'Pol."

"And I'm sure she did that just outta the goodness of her heart, right?"

_He's the same Billy who needed my help on his English homework. _Trip's knuckles tightened around the chair as he fought to control his temper. "Just what the hell are you implyin'?"

"I'm implyin' that the Vulcan manipulated you. Seein' you were vulnerable, she -"

_He's the same Billy that became an engineer to follow in your footsteps. _"She didn't manipulate me into anything. And yes, she did do it 'out of the goodness of her heart,' whether you want to believe that or not."

"Oh, come off it, Trip. You know as well as I do that _Vulcans _don't have the ability to feel. That woman you're so hot and bothered about? She's nothing but a manipulative, cold blooded bitch –"

_Baby brother, remember, he's your baby brother. _"Don't talk about T'Pol like that."

William continued his tirade, Trip's warning unheeded. " – Who was probably using neuropressure as some scientific experiment on human sexual practices."

"That's enough."

"I do hope you weren't stupid enough to actually fuck-"

Trip stood then, his anger overcoming the mental reminders of William's relationship to him. "_That's enough. _I'm only going to say this one more time, William Tucker. You will not talk about T'Pol that way."

William stood then too. Two sets of identical sloped noses and blue eyes stood glaring at each other. "You can't actually _care _about her, Trip."

"I care about her very much."

"God, didn't Lizzie mean anything at all to you?"

The sudden change in conversation, as well as the audacity William had to say such a thing, threw Trip for a loop. "How can you even ask that? Lizzie meant the world to me."

"Then how can you side with the people responsible for getting her killed?"

"The Vulcans didn't have anything to do with the attack on Earth, Billy. You know that as well as I do."

"Of course they did. They held humanity back. If they hadn't, we could have been ready. We could have prevented the attack that killed Lizzie."

"That's ridiculous."

"Is it? Look around you. We're in the middle of humanity's greatest achievement. This is how far we've come _with _their interference. Imagine how far we could be if they hadn't been there at every step, trying to hold us back from exploring the stars as is our right. Our technology could have been more advanced, more developed. We could have a fleet by now – one that could have stopped the first Xindi weapon."

Trip rubbed his eyes tiredly, and wondered how such a normally reasonable man like his brother could come up with such screwed up reasoning. "It wasn't their fight, Billy."

"You've served in Starfleet too long, Trip. You've become a Vulcan appeaser, just Forrest, Williams, and the rest. No doubt _she _had something to do with that. Tell me, did she give you a good reason why her holier-than-thou planet didn't come to our aide?"

"Humanity didn't win against the Xindi weapon by ourselves. We had help from T'Pol, Phlox, the Andorians, even the Xindi themselves." The memory of T'Pol's concern about what the ramifications of staying on _Enterprise_weighed heavily in Trip's mind. For a startling minute, he feared that she'd never be able to find out what the High Command's decision had been.

"Well, isn't that nice? The next thing you'll be tellin' me is that the bastards actually have a conscience."

"As a matter of fact, some of them do."

"Convenient that their conscience disappeared long enough for them to kill seven million of our people."

Trip took a deep breath to remind himself of why he was here before continuing. _Arguing with Billy isn't going to get you anywhere. It won't get T'Pol back._"You can't just group all of them together, Billy. Not all Xindi, not all Vulcans – you know better than that. T'Pol is -"

"Special?" William spat the word.

* * *

Pleasure.

The sensation had been difficult for T'Pol to name only days before. Now that it was threatening to overwhelm her, she no longer had such a problem. Her problem now was of an entirely different variety.

_I will not give in. Not again. _Though T'Pol literally shook, she refused to submit to the desire coursing through her veins. The more T'Pol struggled to remain in control, the more determined Hogan appeared to grow to tear down her walls of self control. As a consequence, it was becoming increasingly difficult for T'Pol to distinguish between the desires she was resisting and the reality

Hands. Warm, firm, and tender hands were pressing the key points along her spine.

_No. Not real._

It would be very easy to give in. . .

"Just as you did in the Expanse?" taunted a voice in her ear. Trip.

"No. Stop." _Isn't real._

Trip's hands flattened and stopped seeking specific points along her spine. Now they roamed, massaging even larger portions. "You don't really want me to stop, do you T'Pol?"

"You are not real."

His hands moved lower. "Then it does not matter whether or not I stop?"

_Not real. Not Trip. Must stop._

"How is that logical?" The voice did not sound like Trip. It was too rough. _Too unkind. _

Summoning strength that had long since appeared to have left her, T'Pol concentrated. Slowly, the same white walls that had been her prison for the past three days became clear. It took an additional moment for her to recognize the voice as belonging to Hogan.

"How is that logical?" He taunted again. She did not know what he referred to, nor did she care. All she cared about was forestalling the oncoming insanity, a task that was becoming increasingly more difficult.

She would welcome any means of escape. _Any._

* * *

"Yes, T'Pol is very special to me," Trip said forcefully, clearly frustrated that Billy couldn't understand something that simple. "She's more than special, Billy. I –"

Trip stopped abruptly as an overwhelmingly sharp pain pierced his head. He'd been dealing with the continuing sensations from the bond he and T'Pol had shared, as best as he could without her actually being there to guide him. But as the agonizing pain subsided, the sensations of pain, panic, and fear were gone. In their place was. . .nothingness.

Billy was standing at his side, their previous disagreement momentarily forgotten. "Trip, are you alright?"

"No. . . T'Pol. . . I can't feel her anymore."

Billy frowned. "What do you mean, feel?"

Shaking his head slowly, Trip tried to ignore the gnawing foreboding sensation in his gut. "You saw the 'trial.' You should know what I'm talking about."

"Well, I don't. So how 'bout you fill me in?"

"The bond T'Pol was telling me about?"

"Oh, _that. _Yes, I remember. Some type of mental link, I believe she said it was? It's most likely some type of Vulcan trick to manipulate –"

"She was _not _manipulatin' me, Billy. Damnit, it's not like that. She and I. . . I can't imagine the rest of my life without her. The bond. . . she says it's not a strong one, by Vulcan standards. I want to explore that bond in greater detail, along with all other things Vulcan _and _human."

Billy pursed his lips in a fair imitation of someone who had swallowed something distasteful. "You're serious about her, then?"

Trip didn't hesitate in his response. "Very serious."

"Have you even remotely considered how your _family _feels about this? I'm not the only one who isn't going to be happy with you . . . dating. . . a _Vulcan._"

"The Tucker family I remember would want me to be happy."

"We still do, but without her."

"I can't." Once it was said, Trip wondered why he had never expressed it to T'Pol. With all of his might, he willed T'Pol to hear him, in the same way that he had heard her only minutes before. His efforts were met with the same blank nothingness that had existed in his consciousness since the onset of his migraine.

While his sincerity did not soothe the dull ache that was beginning to take the place of T'Pol's emotions, it apparently did have a profound effect on his brother. "I didn't realize she meant that much to you." As if to demonstrate the decline in hostility, Billy retook his seat.

"It's funny. . neither did I, until recently. I. . just hope it isn't too late. I don't know what the people on APA I are doin', Billy, but –"

"I'll speak to them. I can't make any promises, but I'll see what I can do about getting them to release her."

"Not that I'm complainin', but what made you change your mind?"

"When I went off to college, you told me that I was going to have to make my own mistakes, and learn from them. I don't like the idea of you and that Vulcan together, but I suppose you're entitled to make your own mistakes too. And you obviously care for the Vulcan."

Trip winced at the repeated usage of "the Vulcan," but decided not to press it. "Thanks, Billy. Somehow I don't think the Captain's having much luck with Dr. Kehn."

"It's unlikely. Abagail's one of the staunchest supporters of the 'return to old morality' nonsense that her sect believe in. He'd have better luck in convincing Niagara not to fall than convince her that the Vulcan didn't commit a horrendous crime by taking her shirt off."

"Well, I guess I'll go. . . "

"It'd probably be best. I'm going to call on some old favors with Hogan, but seeing you in my quarters probably wouldn't be a good battle plan."

"Right." Trip stood for an awkward moment, before exiting.

* * *

William waited patiently for the sound of his brother's footsteps to fade away before he requested to be patched through to APA I. The Ensign that connected him didn't sound very happy to patch him through, but she did, nonetheless, after a lengthy pause in which William was certain she was double checking with the Captain.

After a moment, Hogan's face finally graced the small screen. "Well, well, Mr. Tucker. So good to talk to you again."

Attempting not to roll his eyes, Billy simply responded, "I held up my half of deal. Is the Vulcan alright?"

A slight frown crossed Hogan's face. "Since when do you care about the welfare of Vulcans?"

"Since that Vulcan bitch has some type of link with my brother that damn near caused him to pass out a few minutes ago. When I agreed to help you, I didn't know Trip –"

"You aren't planning on going back on your end of the deal, are you, Billy?" Hogan asked menacingly.

"No," William answered equally as coldly. "But so help me, if anything happens to my brother because of your little scheme –"

"_Our_ scheme. It will benefit the entire colony."

"I don't care who will benefit. If something happens to Trip –"

"Well, he is likely to have a broken heart."

"Life's full of disappointment. I meant physically. I couldn't care less about his lust for the Vulcan. And you didn't answer me. Is she alright?"

"We aren't certain. Our doctors aren't versed well enough in the Vulcan physiology to know . . . but, suffice to say, there's been a glitch."

"A glitch?"

"Don't worry about. Proceed with the plan as we previously agreed."

* * *

On the bridge, Hoshi glared at the comm station. When she'd signed on, Jonathan Archer had professed the need for a linguist. Once she had finally caved, he'd smiled that annoyingly sweet – and manipulative – little boy smile, thanked her, and swore she'd be "the Daniel Jackson to my Colonel O'Neill." That had swiftly melted away any discontent she had possessed at the time. After all, what child of her generation hadn't grown up on the stories of Daniel Jackson translating the Asian languages for the less linguistically gifted Colonel as they had crossed continents fighting Khan?

_Daniel Jackson, my ass. I feel more like a intra-galactic version of the old telephone operators they had during the Doctor's day. _

The feeling was a valid one, given how many "calls" she had directed between Starfleet, the various APA colonies, and their "guests." The sensation doubled as she received yet another signal. _If Dr. Jackson had suffered the same indignities, he would have told Colonel O'Neill to shove it. _

And, damn it, he would have been able to do it in more languages in that once sentence than I've been able to use in the past week.

_Hmm. . . Vulcan? Her_ curiosity overtook her cynicism when the request came through to speak to Commander Tucker.

"Sato to Tucker."

"This is Trip."

"You have a transmission, Commander. It's from Vulcan."

Hoshi noticed the looks from Malcolm and Travis, but ignored them in favor of the more important sharp intake of breath from Trip.

"Who is it?"

"It claims to be someone named T'Lal."

The pause indicated that Trip clearly had no idea who T'Lal was. "Go ahead and patch her through."

After the transmission went through, Hoshi allowed her thoughts to shift from her own duties to the mission at hand. It wasn't a mission she was particularly needed for, but it was one that she had a personal stake in anyway. The memory of T'Pol, the once stoic image of Vulcan propriety, asking for dating advice in the turbolift was a clear one. They couldn't just leave her behind – not now, not after the war had been won, and T'Pol had the opportunity to pursue what she so clearly wanted.

_And for what? So Starfleet can please a group of humans that are every bit as evil as Khan ever was? Maybe more so? Hasn't our species learned any lessons at all in the past century and a half?_

The very idea that happiness would be ripped from her friends when they were so close to it was heartbreaking to Hoshi. Perhaps it showed, because the man currently in charge of the bridge looked at her quizzically. "Is everything okay, Hoshi?"

"Everything's fine, Malcolm. I was simply feeling a bit nostalgic about . . . history," she finished.

"History?" __

"Um, the Eugenics Wars."

"Ah. That's one of my favorite historical eras."

"Really?"

Malcolm nodded enthusiastically. "General Hammond was the quintessential military commander of the twenty-first century."

_Of course. The strong, silent type. That's Malcolm to a 'T', isn't it? _ "Yeah, it's too bad he had to meet such a gruesome fate. What was it? Some type of bug in the ear?"

"Cockroaches, and multiple ones at that. Apparently, the roaches themselves didn't actually do that much damage, but the hatching of their eggs. . . though. . . I must confess, I don't quite understand what the Eugenic Wars have to do with our current predicament."

"It's a long story. I'll tell you later."

"I look forward to it."

Out of the corner of her eye, Hoshi noticed strange expression on Travis' face. With a shrug, she vowed to ask him about it later, and went back to silently cursing the colonists and her fate in all the languages she knew.

* * *

Wearily, but curious, Trip waited for the connection to go through. When the connection was complete, he was greeted with a startling vision of exactly what he believed T'Pol would look like when she was old – whenever that might be.

"You are Commander Charles Tucker?" the woman inquired.

"Yes, Ma'am."

"I am T'Lal, mother to T'Pol."

Frantically, Trip searched his brain for a reason why T'Pol's mother would want to request to speak to him. None of the reasons were particularly pleasant ones. "It's an honor to meet you. What can I –"

"I have seen the trial footage."

_Damn. What in the hell am I supposed to say to tha? _

As it turned out, he didn't need to say anything, because T'Lal continued for him. "While my daughter's correspondence prior to her time in the Expanse did portray you as a close ally, I did not realize the two of you had become quite so intimate."

"Well. . .it's been. . . a recent development."

T'Lal looked at him for a moment as if to gauge the truth behind his words. Certain that his heart rate was increasing exponentially, Trip wondered why _that_ trait had to be one of the universal constants shared by Vulcan and human mothers alike.

Finally, she spoke again. "I suspect the affection has not been. For either of you."

There was no malice or animosity in her voice, thus, Trip decided it was safe to be truthful, or at least as truthful as he believed a Vulcan could appreciate. "No. But we only recently acknowledged it."

"That is unfortunate for both of you."

"Yeah. . .it sure is."

"I would normally be contacting my daughter. However, since both of our governments have deemed inaction to be the appropriate course of action, the information I would share with her I will share with the one she has bonded with."

The mere mention of the word 'bonded' dredged up the familiar sensation of emptiness. He thought briefly about asking T'Lal, but something in her expression made him pause and allow her to continue. It was also possible that the undercurrent of displeasure she displayed in her phrasing worked to silence Trip as well.

"I gathered from the trial footage that T'Pol has shared with you the investigation into her actions by the High Command?"

"You mean her comin' with us into the Expanse? Yes, she shared that."

"The High Command has found that the scientific and diplomatic benefits of her time on the Enterprise have proven her decision to be a prudent one, in retrospect."

Forgetting to whom he was speaking, Trip permitted a grin to overtake his face. "You mean, she's in the clear?"

He was given _the eyebrow in_ response. "If I understand your vernacular, yes, she's . . . 'in the clear.'"

His smile grew impossibly wider. "That's wonderful news. I can't wait to tell . . . " his voice trailed off, as he remembered, belatedly, the obvious fact that he might not get the chance to tell T'Pol the news he was certain she'd be glad to hear. _Well, pleased at any rate._

T'Lal's brows crinkled slightly in the familiar Vulcan demonstration of confusion. "I had been led to believe that Starfleet had decided to leave T'Pol on the APA I colony."

Technically, Trip knew he wasn't supposed to share the details of what was occurring with T'Lal. On the other hand, there was no way he could imagine lying to T'Pol's mother. "Well. . . officially they have. I can't really go into details, but we have good reason to think that might change, soon."

T'Lal only tilted her head in response. "In that case, T'Pol has chosen her alliances more carefully than I had previously believed. I do hope your plans will be successful, Commander Tucker."

"So do I, Ma'am, and thank you, for lettin' me know about the High Command's decision."

"There is no reason to thank me. Our culture would allow no less."

"Maybe not. . . but somehow, I don't think Soval would have seen it that way."

Again he received _the eyebrow. "_Indeed, he did not. However, you are bonded to T'Pol. To withhold the news from you would have been a denial of your roll in our family. That would be. . .illogical."

Never before in Trip's life had the word "illogical" sounded so sweet. It was a bittersweetness, though, when he realized that speaking to T'Pol's mother was easier than speaking to his own flesh and blood. "Speakin' of the bond. . .there is one thing I wanted to ask you about."

"You may proceed."

"The past day or so, I've been feeling some pretty strong . . .sensations. . . from T'Pol," Trip shuddered in spite of himself, when he remembered what type of "sensations" he'd been experiencing. "But just a few minutes ago, I had a pretty strong headache, and now I can't feel her anymore at all."

Vulcans were supposed to be an emotionaless species. T'Pol had told him that, popular culture believed that, and Trip had considered it truthful for a long time. But the brief look that crossed T'Lal's face was such a combination of sorrow and pity that belied that stereotype. The gnawing feeling Trip had felt initially returned.

"Then I grieve with you, Commander Tucker."

"Greive?"

"The loss of a Vulcan bond only occurs through death."

* * *

To Be Continued. . .

A/N: Only three more to go! Yah! Oh. . .and the Stargate reference is again gratuitous, but not entirely, as it will come into play later.


	19. Sleep, My Pretty, Sleep

**To Have Learned Nothing At All**   
**Chapter 19  
****_Sleep, My Pretty, Sleep_   
****A/N: I have no idea why so much of this is in Archer's POV. But hey, I thought I was nice to the guy this time around.**

* * *

As William Tucker had predicted, Archer was having difficulty with Abagail Kehn. Specifically, he was wishing the person in front of him was a man, so that he could shake her senseless. For what felt like the one millionth time, he not so gently reminded her, "T'Pol is a _Vulcan. _Why should she be held to some puritanical idea of human morality?" _A morality most humans don't even believe in,_ he added silently.

"Such blatant immorality should be viewed as such in any species," came the crisp reply.

"What you believe to be 'blatant' hasn't been viewed as such on Earth for over one hundred years."

"Yes, I am aware of that, Captain. Such a disregard for ethics and values is why APA VI exists. We believe that Earth's ever increasing desire for advanced technology has affected their ability to care about what is right and wrong."

It was a circular argument, and one Archer was tired of. "If you hate technology as much as you claim to, then why don't you want to do anything to help us? T'Pol was captured using technology."

"So you say. On the other hand, the colonists of APA I are my colleagues and allies. You and your ship, however, embody everything that humanity has done wrong."

"This ship represents humanity's greatest achievement."

The look Kehn gave Archer was a distasteful mixture of animosity and pity. "Progress is worth nothing, Captain Archer, if integrity is lost in the process."

"And this is your idea of what constitutes _integrity_?"

"Yes." The statement was made so matter of fact that it couldn't even have constituted an argument.

"We have offered you proof that the device is destroying APA I. Would you rather your world be destroyed rather than accept our help?"

"Our planet has commissioned Mr. Tucker and myself to fix the problem, Captain. We will not require your help."

"But – "

"And further, I do not believe your technological trickery."

It was perhaps fortunate that Archer was interrupted at that point, as he had no further rebuttals left in him. When the intruder turned out to be William Tucker, however, Archer's relief was momentarily cut short.

"Captain Archer," the younger Tucker greeted cheerfully.

_The woman his brother loves is being held captive. How can he be so cheerful? "_Mr. Tucker. I thought you were catching up with Trip."

"Oh, we've caught up enough. Abagail, could you excuse us?"

"Certainly. I'll be glad to move to my quarters, where there is less. . . technology." Abagail gave the Command Center one last disdainful look before leaving.

"It sounds like you didn't have a lot of success with our favorite technophobe, Captain."

Again, the voice was a little too light than was Archer believed was appropriate. "It depends on your definition of 'successful.'"

"Oh, I find that hard to believe. Regardless of the definition, I can say with certainty that you didn't find it with Abagail," William retorted. As he spoke, William casually lingered by the projections on the main viewing screen.

Despite the irritation that was twisting in Archer's stomach, the Captain made his best effort to push his own feelings aside. Instead, he attempted to focus on William's interest, and channel that interest in a more productive manner than he'd managed with Kehn. "The graphics on the screen in front of you are ones we took on APA I."

"Oh, I have no doubt of that. Rather impressive, don't you think, Captain?"

"You're know about it?"

"Of course I do. It's rather a shame such an impressive piece of technology came from an inferior species, but – "

"That _impressive piece of technology _is destroying your colony."

"I reviewed the information with Trip already. It's easily fixable, Captain."

"So easily fixable that three of my most trusted Starfleet officers couldn't figure out a way to stop the destruction it's causing?"

"I believe the problem lies somewhere between the phrase 'Starfleet' and 'officers.'"

_Okay, he's not a woman. I could punch him. Though_, sadly, Trip probably wouldn't agree with that course of action. "Did you discuss anything else with Trip?"

"It's been over three years since I saw my brother, Captain. Our conversation was according lengthy."

Archer's patience was wearing thin. "Did that lengthy conversation include anything about T'Pol?"

"Why, yes it did, Captain. In fact, I've come to see you specifically to let you know that I've spoken to Mayor Lewis, and he's agreed to let pardon T'Pol for her crimes."

"Not that I don't appreciate the change of heart, but what made him change his mind?"

"I'm the only civil engineer the settlements have. Let's just say that's quite a bit of leverage."

"And you were willing to use that leverage. . . just because you're such a _nice guy?" _There were far more diplomatic ways of asking his question, but Archer figured no one would ever mistake him for a diplomat, anyway.

"No. As far as I'm concerned, the Vulcan can rot, and so can the rest of her arrogant goody-two-shoes species. I did it for Trip."

"I'm sure he appreciates it."

"Come now, Captain, your feelings towards the Vulcans are well-known. I'm certain you feel the same way, deep down."

"I do not." Forgetting for a moment that the man in front of him was Trip's brother, Archer took a step closer. "T'Pol is my _friend, _and if anything happens to her –"

It was extremely fortuitous for both of them that the Command Center's doors once again swished open. When Trip entered, all of Archer's anger dissipated to make room for sympathy. His chief engineer and best friend looked worse than Archer could ever remember seeing him. The redness and puffiness around his eyes were unmistakable signs of something Archer didn't want to contemplate.

Archer moved from his place in front of William to stand next to Trip. "What's the matter?"

"T'Pol. . . she's. . . she's dead, Captain."

_Nobody gets left behind._

Though Trip's voice shook when the statement came out, the pained expression on his face stalled any denial Archer might have uttered. "How do you know?"

"The bond. It's gone."

"But – "

"I just finished talking to T'Pol's mother, Captain. She says that a Vulcan bond is only broken through. . . death."

_Nobody gets left behind. Part_ of Archer wanted very badly to grieve the passing of the only Vulcan he'd ever truly trusted. He'd lost a friend, and a very close one. The cruel irony of the fact that he'd fought her being assigned to _Enterprise_tooth and nail was not lost upon him. But one casual glance at Trip's face told Archer that his own pain needed to take a back seat to the undoubtedly stronger loss his friend was experiencing. Lacking the option to mourn properly, Archer decided to channel that grief into something more productive. Namely, further anger at William Tucker. It was a relatively easy task, and within seconds Archer's fist made a resounding – and unexpected – crack against the younger Tucker's nose. "You son of a bitch."

"What the hell was that for?"

"You knew, didn't you? You knew all along, and didn't say a damn thing about it." It occurred to Archer in the midst of his anger that perhaps punching Trip's brother might have caused the engineer to have another reason to be upset. A glance back at Trip, however, revealed him to be starring at William with an odd mixture of hope and terror – terror that had nothing to do with Archer's punch.

"Billy. . . you didn't know, did you?"

_Of course he did. Why else would the colonists be willing to give T'Pol back to us? Out_ of concern for Trip, Archer withheld the thought.

"Trip, you should know better than that. I wasn't given any indication anything was wrong with T'Pol at all when I contacted the colony."

_Bullshit. "_We still have another day before we reach the APA I colony. I want you to spend that day in your quarters, Mr. Tucker. Is that clear?"

"Oh, perfectly, _Captain. _I assume you want the body returned to the ship?"

_Nobody gets left behind. "_Yes. Now get the hell out of my Command Center."

William Tucker straightened, wiped his nose in an apparent effort to preserve any dignity that he might have, and walked out the door, without so much as a single condolence to his brother.

Left alone in the room with Trip, Archer was again reminded how much their relationship had deteriorated. His mind called up a thousand possibilities of why that had happened – all of them as equally much his fault as T'Pol's death. _Nobody gets left behind. _ "Trip, I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry for, Captain."

"I should have found a way to bring her back sooner. I'm sorry I couldn't – and that I let both of you down." _Nobody gets left behind._

"You were just following orders."

It was as equally weak excuse when used by Trip in his defense as it had been two centuries earlier. "Maybe so. . ."

"There is something I need to ask, Captain."

"Anything."

"I. . . I promised T'Pol's mom that we'd bring her home . . . back to Vulcan. I know it's not your favorite place, but –"

_Nobody gets left behind. "_Consider it done."

"Thank you, Captain."

"Trip – if you ever want to talk, my door's always open, you know that."

"There's not really a lot to discuss, Captain."

"Trip –"

"I really need to get a look at the engines, Captain. With everything that's happened lately, I've been somewhat distracted."

Archer thought briefly about ordering Trip to rest. After all, it was obvious that Trip was seeking the engine room only as a means of diversion. Given how many hours he'd been away, combined with the ordeal he'd suffered through the past week, the "responsible" action probably would have been to send him to Phlox or his quarters.

But the friend in Archer knew that such an action would be condemning Trip to wallow alone in his pain. If throwing himself into his work would help ease the pain of losing T'Pol even a little, Archer wouldn't deny his friend that. "Understood. Dismissed, Commander."

As he watched Trip turn to leave, Archer couldn't quite shake the nagging feeling that even if T'Pol was dead, the colonists were still giving her up with relative ease. He pushed the feeling aside by telling himself that the colonists' plans had simply gone awry, and now they were changing tactics to compensate. It was the only thing that made any sense. Why else would they go to such lengths to capture T'Pol, only to let her go so easily?

* * *

The next day, it was Archer and Reed that reclaimed T'Pol's body via Shuttlepod One. Though Trip wanted to go, Archer refused, feeling like a complete bastard in doing so. Still, Archer the Captain knew that Trip was too emotionally attached to the mission to permit Archer the Friend to allow Trip's presence on the mission.

Trip met them in the shuttle bay upon their return. It was Trip who gingerly lifted T'Pol's lifeless body and carried her to sickbay, where Phlox was to perform the autopsy.

After giving the order to Travis to proceed directly to Vulcan, Archer followed silently behind his friend, still thinking that their escape had been entirely too easy.

But he still couldn't come up with any good . . . _logical . . . _reason for such a lackadaisical attitude by the colonists. However, merely thinking about the word logic was too much, and Archer suppressed his confusion in favor of the guilt that was gnawing at him instead.

_No one gets left behind. _

* * *

By the time Commander Tucker reached sickbay with T'Pol, Phlox already had the bed and tools he needed to perform the autopsy ready. The more prepared he was, the sooner he could get the started. The sooner he got started, the sooner he would finish. The sooner his duty as ship's physician was finished, the sooner he could mourn the passing of someone he considered his closest friend on _Enterprise__. _Phlox knew that his grief wouldn't only be for his own personal loss. No, though his personal pain would be first and foremost, he would also lament the passing of the strongest Vulcan ally humanity had. He'd bemoan the fact that T'Pol would never be able to continue her study of humanity. Phlox would also regret that he would never know whether she and Commander Tucker would have finally stopped their pretense and have formed a more permanent union, if fate hadn't intervened.

With these morose thoughts in mind, Phlox waited patiently as Commander Tucker gently laid T'Pol down on the bed, his fingers lingering longer than absolutely necessary, and his gaze lingering even longer before he took a step backwards out of Phlox's way. Behind both of them, the Captain stood, concerned but distant. Throwing them both a sympathetic glance, Phlox remarked as tactfully as possible, "It will probably take some time to get the results from this test. Perhaps the two of you would rather get some rest? I'll call you as soon as I've determined a cause of death."

"Thanks, Phlox, but I _have _to be here," Commander Tucker argued.

"And I want to be here," the Captain added.

Even in the midst of such glum circumstance, Phlox marveled at the inherent stubbornness of the human species.

Picking up the neuroscanner, Phlox prepared to determine when brain activity had stopped. It was then that he made a delightful discovery.

"Well, gentlemen, I have delightful news for you. T'Pol isn't dead at all!"

As Phlox turned his cheerful gaze towards the two humans, he saw two equally confused looks. "She certainly does look lifeless, enough. However, she's merely gone into a Vulcan healing trance."

"Is she going to be okay?" The question came from Archer. For his part, Trip was still speechless. An understandable reaction, in the Doctor's viewpoint.

"Well, I can't guarantee it, but she should be. . . . " Phlox's voice trailed off and his cheerful smile morphed back into the frown that had crossed his face moments before as he analyzed the information on his scanner.

"What's the matter?" This time the question did come from Trip. He sounded more than a little panicked, from Phlox's point of view.

"I have seen many Vulcan healing trances before during my time in the Interspecies Medical Exchange. The vital signs I'm reading are too low to be considered healthy."

"Well, do _something_!"

"Trip, I'm sure Phlox is doing everything he can."

"Actually, Captain, there's very little I can do. Any of the stimulants that I would normally prescribe run the risk of interfering with the healing trance. At the moment, it seems that T'Pol has suffered severe neurological damage. The trance is apparently the only thing keeping her alive."

Archer sighed in disappointment. "Isn't there anything you can do, Phlox?"

"I'm afraid not, Captain. However, as we are on our way to Vulcan, perhaps the Vulcan healers will be able to help her. I have seen them do some extraordinary things."

"I hope so. Do whatever you can, Doctor. I'll be on the bridge."

After Archer departed, Phlox turned to face the other conscious occupant. "You, Commander Tucker, need to get some rest."

"I can't, Doc. There's no way I can rest –"

"I will provide the sedative if necessary."

"I need to be next to her, Doc. I almost lost her – hell, I might lose her still. I can't just go off to my quarters and leave her here, alone."

"Very well, then. Pull up a bed."

"A bed?"

"Sickbay seems rather quiet at the moment. You may stay. However, you will be resting during your stay."

Phlox was true to his word, and Trip soon fell into an uneasy slumber.

* * *

To Be Continued. . . .


	20. Hearts Will Never be Practical Until The...

**To Have Learned Nothing At All  
**Chapter 20  
Disclaimers in Chapter 1  
_Hearts Will Never be Practical Until They Can be Made Unbreakable._   
A/N: Again, beware of evil scene changes.

* * *

Much to his surprise, Trip slept without waking for ten hours, something he hadn't done since signing onto _Enterprise_ three years ago. No doubt the sedative Phlox had given him was the reason behind Trip's ability to remain asleep, regardless of the dreams that had haunted him. Unlike the nightmares he had experienced while bonded to T'Pol, these dreams were hauntingly empty, in addition to frightening. It was no longer a matter of not being able to _reach_ T'Pol; not hearing her at all was what now plagued his sleep.

In spite of the dire situation he was in, Trip couldn't help but think of the irony of the reason behind the longevity of his slumber. Nine months ago, it was Phlox's refusal to give him further sedatives to help him sleep that had driven Trip to rely on T'Pol.

It was almost humorous, in a sick, twisted way. If Phlox had been as ready to give a sedative then as the doctor had been the night before, it was highly likely that they wouldn't be here now.

_And T'Pol would be better off. _If there hadn't been any neuropressure sessions, they never would have tried it on the planet, and T'Pol wouldn't have been arrested for indecency.

_Which would mean she wouldn't be lying here in sickbay fighting for her life. _Remembering how lifeless T'Pol held felt in his body only hours before, Trip shivered.

But even as the negative consequences loomed large in his consciousness, Trip was reminded of the positive ones. If it hadn't been for those damn neuropressure sessions, the argumentative yet affectionate relationship might never have transformed into their current state of warm friendship on the verge of becoming something deeper. The exchange of cultural knowledge – from Surak to the Wizard of Oz – never would have happened. Without the half an hour he'd spent with T'Pol three times a week, the Expanse would have been a far lonelier place.

Hesitantly, his hand reached for hers. His fingers paused just short of contact, uncertain of initiating the intimate gesture when T'Pol was unable to give her consent. Finally, he slid his hand under hers, allowing the Vulcan fingers to rest lightly on top of his own. Needing to be closer, he leaned forward so that his mouth lingered just beyond the tip of her right ear.

"T'Pol, look, I don't know if you can hear me. . . I've heard before that you're supposed to talk to humans that are in comas. Apparently it's supposed to help a little. . . I don't know if that applies to a Vulcan healing trance. Hell, this whole trance thing really has all of us stumped, even Phlox. That's why we're on our way to Vulcan. . ."

His voice betrayed him at that point.

". . . Speaking of which, according to your momma, you're off the hook with the Vulcan High Command completely. . . Ya know, I hear the crew'll be getting a couple months down time before the refit. Maybe you and I could spend some time on Vulcan? Along with the snorkeling, our little reading date. . ."

His eyes betrayed him at that point.

"Damn it, T'Pol, you and I have a lot of plans. So you have to get better. There's too much left for us to do. . . together. . . for you to bail out now. Besides . . . I need you. Hell, let's be honest. I care an awful lot about you, T'Pol. I can't –"

It was at that inopportune time that the machine monitoring T'Pol's vital signs began to broadcast a loud signal which brought Phlox into the room immediately.

"What's the matter?"

"She appears to be having some sort of panic attack."

Trip frowned in confusion as he stepped back out of Phlox's way. "Vulcans can have panic attacks?"

"It is a rather unusual occurrence," Phlox agreed as he pressed a hypospray against T'Pol's neck.

"I thought you couldn't give her anything."

"It's a very mild anti-anxiety medication. It shouldn't interfere with the trance at all. Ah, there we go. Her vitals have stabilized, Commander."

"Do you think the panic attack was part of the healing trance?"

Phlox shook his head. "No, it's very unlikely. While I'm not certain, I believe T'Pol may have picked up on the distress you were projecting."

_If so. . . Maybe our bond isn't broken completely. _The thought provided Trip with a fleeting moment of hope that hadn't been there since T'Pol had first been arrested. It was compounded a moment later by the realization that it had been his thoughts that had put her in jeopardy. "I'll try not to project so much."

Phlox rewarded Trip with his characteristic smile. "That may be difficult, Commander. Perhaps you should focus on something other than her illness."

"Easier said than done, Doc."

"Maybe you could brief T'Pol on the current conditions of engines."

"I thought the purpose of the healing trance was to heal. The engines are work, Phlox. I can't burden T'Pol when she's trying to get better."

"Well, what does she do to relax?"

"She meditates mostly," Trip winced with the realization that she probably hadn't had the opportunity to meditate during the entire time she'd been on the planet. He decided to keep it as another reason to hate the APA colonists. "She listens to music, playing chess. . . she reads a lot. . ."

"Perhaps you should read her a story."

Trip looked at him skeptically, but shrugged. "I'll give it a shot."

"Excellent. I'll leave you to it, then, Commander. Oh, and make certain you try to read something _neutral_."

_There's nothing neutral enough that is going to make me forget about how serious T'Pol's condition is. _Still, for T'Pol's sake he had to try. The only alternative was to leave her side, and that wasn't something Trip was prepared to do.

However, he did leave T'Pol's side long enough to go to the Captain's quarters to retrieve the only "neutral" text he could think of.

* * *

"Come in." Archer looked up from the reports he was browsing long enough to look surprised at Trip's visit. "I thought you weren't planning on leaving T'Pol's side."

"I wasn't, but I needed to come here long enough to ask a favor."

"Go ahead."

"Do you still have that book T'Pol gave you – the sayings of Surak?"

"It's on my desk. Why do you ask?"

"Can I borrow it?"

"Of course you can."

"Thanks. Uh. . I'd better be getting back to T'Pol."

Watching Trip go, Archer scratched Porthos' ears thoughtfully and remarked, "You know, I'm glad someone's getting some use out of that thing. I couldn't get past the first chapter."

* * *

Two days later, when they had finally reached Vulcan, Trip had made his way well past the first chapter. He was well on his way into chapter five, "Thoughts on Non-Familial Interpersonal Relationships," when the Captain arrived bearing three Vulcan guests.

It is not considered appropriate for Vulcans to demonstrate surprise. However, something suspiciously similar to that emotion briefly flashed on the visitors' faces when they came upon the human reading the familiar passages of Vulcan's greatest philosopher.

"What is he doing?" the male Vulcan demanded in a tone considerably less than controlled.

"It appears that he is reading passages from the Teachings of Surak. Surely you cannot find fault with that action, Soval," scolded the female at his side.

"Commander Tucker has been quite diligent in his tasks. He's been reading to her for the past three days," Phlox reported proudly.

Soval ignored that additional insight. "I was not attempting to find fault, T'Lal. I was merely unprepared for such a sight."

"You were surprised," Archer chimed in from behind, earning a distinct look of reprimand from the Vulcan Ambassador.

"For a human to show unbiased appreciation of another culture is a truly unexpected event, my wife. IDIC is not practiced among them."

"Nor is it practiced among all Vulcans," she replied simply. Soval started to reply, but T'Lal turned to the third Vulcan, deeming the conversation to be over. "Perhaps you should begin, T'Prena."

T'Prena, who had simply been observing the couple quietly, nodded and stepped further into sickbay, clearing her throat slightly.

Between trying to fake a sense of calm in order to not project his panic, attempting to read the Surak sayings as unemotionally as possible, and taking time to understand what most of them meant – for when T'Pol awoke, she would surely quiz him on this stuff, of that, Trip had no doubt – Trip had been too fully immersed in the task at hand. As a consequence, he hadn't noticed the presence of T'Lal, Soval, T'Prena, Phlox, or Archer. At the sound of T'Prena interruption, however, he turned to face the group. A very relieved smile crossed the engineer's face. When he saw the rest of the entourage behind T'Prena, his smile only widened. "You're here to help T'Pol?" he surmised.

T'Prena strode forward to stand next to T'Pol's bedside. "That is correct. I assume you to be Commander Tucker?"

Trip nodded absently, far more concerned about the matter at hand. "Are you going to be treating her here in sickbay?"

"Yes."

"But don't you need to be in a hospital? Phlox says T'Pol's condition is pretty serious."

Phlox chose that moment to chime in. "Dr. T'Prena is one of Vulcan's foremost neurologists. T'Pol's chances of recovering have substantially increased."

"Though I imagine she could do her task more effectively if you would remove yourself from being in her way," Soval suggested.

Trip complied, coming to stand next to Captain Archer while T'Prena and Phlox began reviewing T'Pol's brain activity. "It's good to see you again too, Ambassador," he remarked with more than a touch of insincerity. Turning to T'Lal, his voice deepened with respect and he extended his hand in the traditional Vulcan greeting. "I'm glad you could make it, Ma'am. When T'Pol wakes up, I'm sure she'll be happy. . . erm, pleased to see you."

"I shall be equally pleased to see my daughter, Commander Tucker."

There remained an awkward silence amongst the four until T'Prena spoke again. "She has sustained significant damage to the ventral tegmental area of the brain. However, I believe it shall heal itself in due course. What is of more immediate concern is the fact that T'Pol should have awoken by now. There is no medical reason for her to still be in the healing trance."

T'Lal straightened her back and folded her arms behind her. "Then you must perform the procedure."

Archer had remained relatively quiet, but chose to break his silence. "What procedure?"

"It is a Vulcan matter, Captain Archer, and is none of your concern," Soval responded.

"Like hell it isn't. It may be a Vulcan matter, but it's also a T'Pol matter. And T'Pol is my responsibility."

"Perhaps if you had taken that responsibility more seriously, none of us would be in this situation."

"Soval. Your concern for our daughter's well being is over-shadowing your logic." T'Lal turned to address Archer directly. "T"Prena is going to attempt to meld with T'Pol."

"Hold on. THe last time a meld took place on this ship –"

T'Prena interrupted him. "We are all aware of the unfortunate ramifications of Tolaris' meld with T'Pol. I assure you, I will not cause such harm."

For his part, Trip was confused. He didn't know what a meld was, what the 'unfortunate ramifications' were, and he was still trying to process the fact that Soval was apparently T'Pol's father. Still, if the procedure would make T'Pol better, he was all for it. "Captain, I don't really know what's going on, but you have to let T'Prena do her thing. It might be her only hope."

The addition of Trip's pleading look melted Archer's resolve. "Fine. Do what you have to do."

Two humans, two Vulcans, and one Denobulan watched in fascination and anticipation as T'Prena pressed her fingers to T'Pol's face. "My mind to your mind. My thoughts to your thoughts. . . "

T'Prena's voice deepened as she continued. ". . . cold chair . . . head hurts. . . must not give in. . . no! No!. . . "

Trip shifted his weight from foot to foot, feeling utterly useless. T'Pol was hurting, but he couldn't help her.

". . . Trip. . . "

Trip started forward, but was stopped by the grip of T'Lal's hand on his arm.

". . . No Trip. . .no more Trip. . . _please_. . . no more Trip."

If someone had punched him in the gut, it would not have hurt nearly as bad as hearing those words did. _But I couldn't have interpreted them correctly. There's another explanation. There has to be. _

With a considerable gasp, T'Prena pulled away.

"Are you alright?" Phlox inquired.

"Is T'Pol alright?" Trip demanded.

T'Prena extended what appeared to be a sympathetic look towards him. In that instance, Trip felt his heart fall to his knees. After all, things have to be at their absolute worst if a Vulcan was feeling sorry for you.

"The colonists were attempting some type of behavioral modification, Commander. Their desired outcome was to make T'Pol have a negative connotation to being intimate with you. . . It appears they have succeeded."

"What do you mean?"

"T'Pol is continuing to sense your presence and it is causing her a good deal of distress. . . it may be the reason she has not awoken from the healing trance. I cannot help her while you continue to be in the room."

"Well. . . I'll just. . . go. . "

"I'll come with you," Archer offered.

"No. .. I'd really rather be alone, Captain."

As Trip turned and walked out of sickbay, still clutching the copy of _The Teachings of Surak_ in his hands, he was granted his wish. He'd never felt more alone in his life.

* * *

TBC. . .

A/N: Yeah, I lied, there are still a couple of chapters to go.   
A/N, II: Thank you to everyone who has continued to review this story. It's much easier to continue a story I dislike when I know someone's actually reading it.


	21. Plot Course For Kansas

* * *

To Have Learned Nothing At All

Chapter 21

_Plot Course for Kansas_

A/N: I vaguely recognize that Trip might be a little out of character – not in his **actions**, but in his thoughts and comments. Given spoilers for next season (which aren't found in the story), I've decided that nobody on the writing staff cares about established character, so why should I? Oh, pretend I didn't say that.

* * *

Three hours. Surely they should have come up with something in three hours. In fact, Trip was rather certain that _something had_ to have happened. Given that no one had contacted him once in that three hours, however, he deduced that it simply hadn't been positive. Thus, he continued to sit alone in his quarters, trying not to remember the desperate plea that had involved him, T'Pol, and the word "no."

His attempt was not proceeding well. Surak possibly could have helped, and would have been a wise attempt, as _The Teachings of Surak _remained in Trip's firm grip. However, reading _it _would have required an actual opening of the book. Instead, for the past three hours, Trip had simply stared at the cover. It wasn't the most productive three hours he could have spent. On the other hand, he was able to pass his time by counting how many times the title had blurred. Other than that, Surak brought him no comfort at all.

When the door to his quarters chimed, Trip was momentarily paralyzed by the overwhelming sensations of relief and anxiousness. Consequently, the chime rang twice and was accompanied by the Captain's concerned voice before Trip could will himself to speak. "Come in."

The Captain entered, followed by T'Prena. One glance at Archer's solemn glance immediately abolished any sense of relief Trip might have had. Still, the inevitable had to be asked. "How is T'Pol?"

Predictably, the time that elapsed was significantly less than what it felt like to Trip. His anxiousness rapidly increased when T'Prena remained silent and permitted Archer to speak first.

"She's not doing well, Trip."

"But is she going to be okay?"

Archer frowned, shuffled his feat, and cleared his throat. Each action had the result of making Trip want to shake the other man. _Can't he tell that I'm nervous? Each time he does that it just makes me more nervous. _

"No, Trip. . . I'm afraid she's not."

Deciding that his best friend was going to be of little or no help, Trip redirected his attention to the Vulcan doctor. "What's wrong with her? It's not still me, is it? Sickbay's a deck a way. . . I thought that would be plenty. If it's not, I can go –"

"Commander," T'Prena interrupted in a manner that was neither coddling nor insensitive, "While your presence was exacerbating T'Pol's condition in sickbay, you alone are not the reason for her illness. I believe she would be reacting in the same fashion regardless of whether you were here."

Were none of them were going to answer his question? "_HOW _exactly is she acting?"

It was T'Prena who answered. "T'Pol is disoriented, confused, and. . . emotional."

"Emotional?" Archer spat in disgust. "My first officer is bordering on hysteria, and you call that . . . _emotional?" _

"I was attempting to restore the dignity that the colonists' have stripped from T'Pol. You have a more appropriate classification?"

The urge to throttle Archer had now grown to include T'Prena. They were arguing over something as useless as semantics? "Can't you and Phlox do something?"

"We cannot. T'Pol's condition is not physiological. It is of a mental nature. She will require much counseling."

"But T'Pol is strong," Trip insisted. "She's one of the strongest people I know. She can't require that much counseling. She'll be okay."

"Everyone has a mental threshold, Commander Tucker. When T'Pol resisted against the colonists' attempt to make her lose control, she reached far beyond hers."

"She doesn't believe any of us are real, Trip. She still thinks we're all a delusion. The screaming's stopped, but now she just sits in sickbay, staring at the wall and mumbling 'you are not real' over and over again."

"But. . . Phlox says Vulcan healers can do some miraculous things. Aren't there any techniques that can help her?"

T'Prena straightened and clasped her hands behind her back in the same fashion that T'Pol did when she was delivering bad news. Involuntarily, Trip shivered. "T'Pol's condition is beyond traditional healer techniques. However, there is a method available which might be able to help her."

"Well, what is it? And why haven't you started?"

"The method is the Kohlinar. It is an intensive treatment which is a complete purge of all emotions. The procedure is performed by specialized Vulcan priests on Mount Seleya."

"If it's on Vulcan, why haven't you transported her down there yet?"

"Commander Tucker, you do not adequately understand the seriousness of this undertaking. If T'Pol –"

"Look, all I need to understand is that T'Pol – the strongest woman I've ever known, of any species – needs help. This Kohlinar ritual can help her. What more is there that you think I need to understand?"

Archer answered him. "The ritual lasts several months. We'd have to leave her behind."

"In addition, in most cases, partnerships do not survive the Kohlinar."

"You mean, when the emotions are purged, it might purge the feelings she has for me?" Trip managed to whisper. The thought was horrifying. _But if it's the only way she can get better. . . _

"Yes. I personally believe that the Kohlinar is T'Pol's only choice for recovery. However, that is from a purely logical standpoint. Your decision may be decidedly less logical."

The last sentence jarred Trip out of the confusion he was in. "What do you mean, _my decision?" _

"T'Pol is not mentally well enough to make decisions concerning her welfare. Under Vulcan law, her bondmate is responsible for making decisions when she cannot."

"But. . .the bond is broken," Trip reminded her.

"No, it is not. It may be weak from your perspective. However, as far as T'Pol is concerned, the bond remains in tact."

"That. . . that must make her recovery almost impossible. If she can sense and feel everything I am. . . "

"The bond will certainly have to be broken before she can heal."

"But T'Lal told me that the bond was only broken through . . . death." Trip suppressed the painful memory that came flooding back

"That is the only way it can be broken naturally. The Kohlinaru have other methods."

Perhaps later Trip would wonder what those _methods _were. Maybe by then, he would have time to actually _care. _ Presently, however, his brain could only focus on the fact that T'Pol was sick and the only available cure would possibly take her away from him forever. To make matters worse, it was a decision _he_ had to make. "What do T'Lal and Soval have to say about it?"

"T'Lal is willing to abide in the law of our people. Soval is of the opinion that because your bond was accidental, the right is not yours. He is therefore petitioning Vulcan High Command for the ability to have a say in T'Pol's case."

"Soval won't do what's best for T'Pol - he'll just keep her on Vulcan, because it's what he wants – what he's wanted since she first stepped aboard the ship." The nasty retort was out before Trip had time to consider his remarks.

"Then you believe T'Pol's best hope lies with returning to Earth?" T'Prena asked calmly.

That was the crux of the matter, wasn't it? T'Pol's best interest either laid with him – which meant returning to Earth – or they remained on the planet below. It was truly an either/or situation.

"You don't have to make the decision right away," Archer attempted to console. "We can stay in orbit for a couple more days."

_A couple of days, a couple of years. What's the difference? _

"Though T'Pol's condition will grow undoubtedly worse the longer you procrastinate your decision," T'Prena reminded.

_Perhaps beyond the ability of the Kohlinaru to heal her? "_I – I need to talk to Phlox."

There was a murmur, a nod, and a respectful bow before they left him alone. It took Trip several false attempts before he successfully made it to the comm unit. The voice that responded to his sickbay query was quieter and much more strained than Trip was used to. "This is Phlox. How can I help you, Commander?"

"I was wondering . . . " Wondering what? Whether T'Pol was sick enough to justify sending her down to the planet below? Sick enough to validate abandonment? Sick enough to rationalize possibly foregoing any further relationship they might have had?

Taking a deep breath and reminding himself to attempt to be professional, he managed to finish, "How's T'Pol doing?"

In the ensuing pause, Trip had time to contemplate every possible answer to his question. Of them all, his imagination lingered longest on the possibility that she was fine. The lingering was long enough for him to realize that it was the least likely option.

"Well, she's stopped screaming," Phlox replied, unconsciously echoing Archer's earlier comments.

It was hard enough for Trip to even imagine T'Pol screaming. The fact that it was continually the first thing anyone mentioned threatened his sanity. "That's good news, right?"

"Comparatively speaking, yes."

Trip took a moment to remind himself that Phlox was his friend, and therefore, it was impossible that the doctor was truly trying to drive him crazy on purpose. "Look, Doc, I have no idea what that means. All I do know at this minute is that the Captain and T'Prena were just here. . . they made it sound an awful like T'Pol's only choice is to go to Vulcan. . . And, damn it, I can't even visit her to see how she's doing because if I do, I-I'll cause her to get even worse. So, I really need your help here, Phlox."

The last part did come dangerously close to desperation. It was, perhaps, that desperation that made Phlox lower his voice as he responded. "Since she stopped screaming, she has not said anything. She is currently sitting curled up into a ball, where she has been for the past sixty-five minutes. She has refused to eat or drink during her consciousness, as well. I believe. . . Well, I believe that T'Prena and the Captain are correct in their assertion that T'Pol will be better off on Vulcan. I can do nothing for her, and Earth doctors won't understand Vulcan psychology well enough to help."

_No, no, no. There has to be another way. _"I-I. . . Thanks."

"I'm sorry I can't be more helpful, Commander."

Trip nodded, not caring that Phlox couldn't see him, and ended the connection.

* * *

Three hours of soul-searching passed while Trip continued to stare at the _Teachings of Surak _in his hands. While he stared, his mind wondered over every previous conversation he and T'Pol had ever had about her homeland. Sure, she had missed some aspects of Vulcan. But would the T'Pol he had known. . and loved. . . chose to go through the Kohlinaru? Would she chose to return to Vulcan? Unfortunately, the only answer Trip could come up with was "maybe." _And this matters far too much to be hedged upon a 'maybe.'_

Eventually, and inevitably, his attempt to do the right thing was interrupted by another chime at the door. Expecting T'Pol's parents or the Captain, he was somewhat surprised when the visitor instead turned out to be Travis Mayweather. Handing a PADD to Trip, Travis offered, "I've been helping Lieutenant Hess with some of the repairs in engineering. I thought you'd probably want to see a copy of my report before I gave it to her."

Trip scanned the information in front of him, forcing himself to care about something other than the woman sitting in sickbay. "It all looks pretty standard, Travis. Go ahead and report to engineering. Actually – hell, maybe I should go with you."

It took Trip longer to notice than it typically would have, but by the time they reached the turbo lift, he managed to notice Travis' unusual behavior. "Look, Travis, I know you're probably worried about T'Pol, b-but I'm sure she'll be fine." It wasn't something Trip particularly believed, but Travis was his friend, and there was no need for the pilot to be as worried as he was. _After all, T'Pol's fate doesn't rest with him, does it? _

Travis looked startled for a moment, before muttering, "Um. . . I'm sure she will be, Commander."

Trip was distraught, but he wasn't stupid. "So, that's not what's bothering you." Even to his own ears, that was a bit harsh, so he lowered his voice a bit when he asked, "What _is _bothering you?"

"Nothing, Commander."

"Consider it an order, Ensign."

Travis sighed. Reluctantly, the younger man informed Trip that as they spoke, Hoshi and Malcolm were having dinner. Though it pained him to think of any happy couples at the moment, Trip asked, "But I thought Malcolm and Mackenzie were a couple."

"Ah, they were. That was before Mackenzie had the revelation that Lieutenant Reed and Hoshi were in love with one another."

"Oh. And how did she come upon that revelation?"

"Me."

"But I thought you and Hoshi –"

"We were. But, eh. . . you know the saying. About loving someone enough to let them go?"

Trip leaned against the wall of the turbo lift for support, and again the conversation he'd had with his brother so many years ago returned.

_"Billy, Cody's in an awful lot of pain. I know you love him, but-"  
"He's my friend, Trip, my best friend in the whole world."  
"I know that, Billy."  
"They can't kill him. They just can't!"  
"You have to think about what's best for Cody."  
"But i-if he dies, who's gonna play with me when I get home from school? Who's gonna make me feel better when I'm sick? Who's gonna play ball with me when you and Dad can't? Who's –"  
"Billy, Cody's very sick. He's going to die either way. You can let him be put to sleep, and spare him a lot of pain, or you can let him go later, and make him suffer. It's up to you."_

"Commander?"

Trip shook his head, and focused on the concerned look on the other man's face. "Yeah, Travis, I think I've heard that line before."

The doors opened to reveal engineering deck. Travis stepped out of the lift and then turned to look at Trip expectantly. "Uh, Commander? Are you coming?"

Trip fumbled with the PADD in his hand. "No. There's somewhere else I have to go first. Oh, and Travis, thanks."

The door closed on Travis' confused face.

* * *

T'Lal, T'Prena, and Soval did not waste time in leaving the ship, with T'Pol in tow. By Trip's calculations, it was exactly twenty-four minutes later. The Captain expressed a desire to talk, but Trip opined that he'd been ignoring his engines lately, which wasn't a lie. It took three days to get to Earth, and Trip spent every one of those days with his beloved engines.

The next several days were spent on the lesson that it doesn't always pay to be an high ranking officer, as the non-essentials were given vacation leave first. Trip spent most of the ensuing two weeks trying to forget that he was doing T'Pol's job as well as his.

The down time eventually came, however, along with the inevitable return to Florida. Trip had looked forward to this day since they had entered the Expanse. He'd planned on doing so much in celebration of _Enterprise__'s _victory. All of those dreams seemed strangely hollow. Because all he wanted to do for his vacation was sit on the Summer-Harris dock overlooking the same body of water that he had snorkeled in many times before and finish reading _The Teachings of Surak. _

* * *

To Be Continued. . .


	22. Waking Up

To Have Learned Nothing At All

Chapter 22

_Waking Up _

* * *

**Three Months Later. . . **

* * *

****  
One year. It was hard to believe a full year had passed since the Xindi attack on Earth. The pain still seemed too fresh and the memories too clear. On the other hand, so much had happened – both in the Expanse and on the way home – that a measly twelve months didn't quite feel like an adequate amount of time to have elapsed.

Still, there was no way anyone could overlook the fact that a year had passed. The numerous memorials, services, parades, and speeches made that impossible. For Trip, the familiar pain of loosing Lizzie combined with the still fresh pain of loosing T'Pol was nearly too much to take. The last place he wanted to be was among crowds of other mourners. _His _misery didn't love company. _His _misery wanted to be alone and free to grieve in private.

But, apparently, his parents' misery _did _need company. Thus, for their sake, he went with them to the unveiling of the Xindi War Memorial in Miami before making the long trek back to his parent's home for dinner. Numerous relatives joined them, some of whom had faces Trip was unable to connect to a name.

His mother had made the same deep fried catfish recipe that he had always cherished, along with Elizabeth's beloved hominy and William's adored blueberry cobbler, though neither sibling was present. Trip had always disliked both of the latter dishes – hominy lacked anything remotely resembling flavor, and the cobbler tasted like someone had mixed burnt toast in with the fruit. Today, however, he ate an extra large portion of hominy. Mid-chew, it occurred to Trip that T'Pol would probably enjoy the cardboard tasting vegetable.

But that hardly mattered now, did it? _I could send some cans to Vulcan in an unmarked package. T'Lal would probably make sure she received them. _

* * *

"_You are being truly noble, Commander Tucker. My daughter chose her mate wisely."_

* * *

_Fuck nobility, _Trip thought irritably. Besides, Soval would probably intercept the present anyway.

The dinner passed by with similarly morose comments occupying his thoughts. Trying to be patient, Trip willed their guests to leave so that he could feel less guilty about returning to the lonely comfort of his San Francisco apartment. As his grandmother began to share the ever _fascinating _story of cousin Frank's foray into knitting, however, Trip settled back and resigned himself to a long wait.

* * *

"I hear you've talked to your brother," Catherine Tucker noted lightly to her son shortly after the last guest had filed out the door. Trip noted thankfully that his Starfleet issued transport was due to arrive at any time, and he prayed silently that it wouldn't be late.

The dull ache that had settled in that morning was quickly replaced by a sharp combination of pain and anger as Trip remembered his last conversation with his brother. "Yeah, I did. How did you hear that?" None of the news reports covering _Enterprise's _"conflict" with the APA colony had gone into very much detail.

Catherine smiled tolerantly at her oldest child in the same fashion as she had done when he had erred in his childhood. "Your brother may not live on Earth anymore, but that doesn't mean I'm not still his momma. I received a letter from him yesterday afternoon. It was quite. . . thorough."

Trip frowned at the sound of "thorough," but obligatorily followed the conversation to where he thought it was supposed to proceed to next. "Well, that's good, Mom."

"He says you were carrying on with some Vulcan woman. Is that true? I mean, Billy's never lied outright to me before –"

_Oh, yes he has, _Trip thought bitterly.

"-but he has been known to tease from time to time," Catherine finished. From the tone of her voice, she was clearly expecting Trip to assure her that that was the case this time too.

"He wasn't this time," Trip answered softly. _Where in the hell is my transport? _

Catherine looked momentarily disgusted and disappointed simultaneously. "Well, I suppose space travel can be. . . stressful. Particularly if you're attempting to save Earth."

Trip briefly wondered if that was supposed to make any sense. What the hell did it have to do with T'Pol?

". . .So, it's only natural you'd look for some type of comfort."

The meaning hit him rather suddenly. Others would have felt outraged, perhaps, or heartbroken. Trip simply felt sick to his stomach. "T'Pol wasn't merely . . . comfort. I love her."

Catherine was silent for a moment. "I'm sorry, Trip," she said finally. "I should have known you better than that. It must be awful, to love someone incapable of returning your affection."

Trip gritted his teeth. "She does. . .did return the affection." There were few things that Trip was still certain of, after three months of grieving. But the fact that T'Pol had loved him once was one of them. That fact remained a sweet, untouched memory that no one could take away from him – not even his mother.

"I'm sure you want to believe that, Trip. But if that's true, then why isn't she here with you?"

"She isn't here because she's sick." The memories were suddenly too much for Trip to bear. Standing, he announced, "I'm going to wait for my transport outside. It was nice seeing you again."

His mother's platitudes followed him out the door. _Where the hell is that transport? _Trip continued to curse silently to himself until he reached the fence. A small wave of guilt washed over him as he realized that he hadn't actually taken time to explain himself to his mother. Then, he reasoned, his relationship with T'Pol didn't need explaining. After all, there wasn't any relationship to defend. _Not anymore. _

"Trip."

At the sound of his father's voice, Trip again wondered where his transport was, but quietly forced himself to mumble, "I'm sorry for the way I behaved in the house."

"No you aren't," Charles Tucker, Jr. answered. "But that's okay."

"It is?" Confused was to be expected. After all, Trip's father may have always been the laid back kind, but he had also always been the kind that had insisted upon ample respect being paid to both of his parents. Trip was pretty sure that the outburst in the house moments earlier qualified as disrespectful.

"Neither your mother nor I know anything about this T'Pol. It's not our place to judge."

"Well, Mom didn't exactly seem like she was very interested in knowing anything, outside of the fact that she's a Vulcan."

"I'm interested."

For the first time in three months, Trip allowed himself a genuine smile. Of course, it was at that moment that his transport decided to show up. "It looks like I'll have to tell you later, Dad."

"I'll look forward to it. Maybe we'll get to meet her in person?"

The smile fell from Trip's face. "I don't think so, Dad."

"She's that sick?"

"Yeah."

"It has something to do with the APA colony, doesn't it?" At Trip's nod, his father frowned and asked quietly, "Your brother didn't have anything to do with it, did he?"

"No. He just belongs to the most xenophobic of them, that's all."

"Trip. . . you should know, when Billy left to join the APA colony, your mother wanted to go too. The only reason she didn't is because I wouldn't go. What I'm trying to say is that your mother still blames the Vulcans, and just about anyone else she can, for Lizzie's death. I suspect your brother does too."

"You don't?"

"Life's too short for us to waste it blaming others for the bad things in our lives. The only person I blame is the man who built the weapon."

"He was a good guy. In the end, he helped save our planet."

The elder Tucker looked momentarily confused. "Ah, I see. You'll have to tell me that story some day as well."

"I'll come visit again, soon," Trip promised as he hugged his father. Though he meant his words, he was nonetheless relieved to finally reach the shuttlepod waiting for him.

"You're late."

"Sorry. I had to transport someone else first. Have a good visit?"

Trip turned to glare at the pilot. "No, Cap'n, I did not."

Archer gave him a sympathetic glance. "I suppose you want to go straight home then?"

"Yes. By the way, how was your vacation?"

Archer smiled, and Trip briefly hated him for it. "Oh, it was great. . um, it went pretty good."

"I'm glad you and Rebecca had a nice time. Anything ship related happen that your chief engineer should know about?"

"As Becca would say, this is our vacation time. No ship talk for another thirteen hours."

"So, who else did you transport?"

"Oh. . . another friend of mine."

Trip shook his head, and marveled at the happiness that his friend had found. The dark and angry Captain that had taken over since they entered the Expanse was no where to be found. Apparently, getting laid had miraculous healing powers.

* * *

"Do you want to come in?" Trip asked once they'd arrived back to his apartment.

"Nah. We've both. . .er, Rebecca's waiting on me."

Trip gave him a funny look and shrugged. "See ya tomorrow, then."

"Yep. Enjoy your night!"

Trip gave a sigh of relief as the shuttle pod disappeared out of sight. He was finally alone. Nothing sounded better than curling up on his couch – _alone – _and drinking more than his fair share. Well, Trip could think of one thing that sounded better. But that was impossible, so he refused to dwell upon it.

As he walked up the sidewalk that led to the house he was renting, a lone figure came into view with a promise to interfere with his plans. Trip increased his pace, determined to let the visitor know that today was the least appropriate day of the year to try to sell something. When the visitor's familiar pointed ears came into view, however, the anger left his body.

"Hello, Trip."

Trip. Trip. She had called him Trip. Again! They were back to Trip. Unmitigated joy coursed through his body at that realization. But still speech remained elusive. Trip didn't really want to talk anyway. He much preferred to stare at the greatness that stood before him.

She was even more beautiful than he remembered. Was that possible? It had to be, because it was true. Her hair was longer than it had been the last time he had seen her, but not quite long enough to be pulled back in a pony tail. Which was good, Trip decided, because the notion of T'Pol in a pony tail was ridiculous. She was far too regal for such a silly hair do. The white robes that hung loosely from her body stood in stark contrast to the tight uniform he was used to, but only accented the serene air that was T'Pol's trademark. At least, it had been her trademark until those bastard colonists had taken it from her.

At the memory of the colonists, Trip anxiously looked for any sign of anxiety coming form T'Pol – any residual clue of the harm that had come from the people he hated most. Happily, he could see none. T'Pol stood a little straighter, but that was the only discernable difference Trip could see. Well, she looked. . . calmer.

"Trip? Are you well?"

"No," he murmured softly. "The Captain has crashed the shuttle pod and I'm either dreaming or in heaven."

At that comment, T'Pol raised an eyebrow – who knew how blissful one tiny gesture could be?- and calmly answered, "I do not believe that to be the case." She stepped closer to him and appeared to survey him with the same careful scrutiny that he had used on her moments before. "You do not appear to be injured."

"You're here." His hand reached out to seek confirmation of that belief, but he recoiled it sharply when he remembered who he was standing next to.

"You may initiate physical contact, if you wish," T'Pol told him as she took another step closer. The action allowed Trip to feel the warmth of her Vulcan breath and he shivered slightly.

Then her words sunk in. "C-contact?"

"The Captain desired a hug," she commented. "Though I told him it would be more appropriate if my first bodily contact on Earth was with you."

The Captain? Somewhere in his confusion, it registered to Trip that T'Pol must have been the "other friend," Archer had spoken of.

"T'Pol. . . are you okay? I mean, I couldn't see you before you left, but everyone said you were so sick. . . "

"I was."

"So. . . did the Kohlinar work?"

"Yes."

"Um. . . then why are you here?"

His wonderfully familiar and stubborn T'Pol crossed her arms and took a step backwards. "Do you want me to leave?"

"No! Of course not. I just thought. . . T'Prena said that it was possible that you wouldn't remember. . . that they'd purge your feelings for me."

T'Pol uncrossed arms and clasped them behind her back. "The Kohlinar is a complicated procedure, and has many steps. I completed only the ones necessary to heal and return to Earth. They did not include the procedures necessary for a memory wipe. I have completed them previously, but I do not wish to have my memories taken from me again. The ramifications were. . .unfortunate."

"I'm sorry," Trip blurted immediately.

"There is no reason for you to be sorry. I. . I should have told you about that incident, and I did not."

"T'Pol, you don't have to –"

"I wish to," she interrupted. "I believe we shall add it to our list?"

"Our list?" Trip repeated, still confused by the fact that his greatest wish had been granted.

"Along with snorkeling, and _The Wizard of Oz." _

"Oh! Our list! Yes, we'll add that. Oh, and hominy."

"Hominy?"

"It's a vegetable. I think you'll like it. It's kind of like what I imagine Vulcan corn would taste like."

"Very well. I shall sample it. Why are you having difficulty unlocking the door to your residence?"

"Because I'm happy, T'Pol."

The faintest ghost of a non-smile crossed T'Pol's face as she answered. "As am I. However, I do believe I could be more successful in opening the door."

* * *

**Four Weeks Later. . . on APA I. . . **

****

Constable Hogan enjoyed his job. There were those that would say he enjoyed it a little too much. But, Hogan would have replied, someone had to keep the peace, didn't they?

He was taking especial pleasure in this day. Some poor sap had been tardy for work, and who didn't love a good flogging?

In the midst of his enjoyment, Hogan caught sight of Billy Tucker on the edge of the crowd. When Tucker signaled to him, Hogan reluctantly handed the flogging duty over to his deputy. As much as Hogan may have been enjoying himself, Tucker's standing in the colony was crucial.

Thus, Hogan met him back at security headquarters. "Well, what's the news?"

Tucker sat down on the edge of his desk and shook his head. "It's not good, Jack. You might want to sit down first."

Hogan complied. Leaning back in his chair, he asked, "Does it have something to do with the T'Pol situation?"

"Yeah. Turns out your new method of punishment doesn't work."

"But I thought the Vulcan returned to her planet?"

"She came back."

Hogan sighed. "Well, I guess it's back to the drawing board."

"Guess so."

"Sorry about your brother."

"He's a fool, and apparently the disease has spread to my entire family. Do you know they actually had a _vegetarian _cook out? I mean, what the hell is the point?"

"So. . .I take it, the Vulcan didn't develop a fondness for spare ribs while she was here?"

"No, I guess not."

"That's too bad. How're your parents taking her?"

Billy shrugged. "Dad's deluded himself into thinking the Vulcan can love Trip. And Mom's still a little leery, but she wants Trip to be _happy." _Billy laughed humorlessly. "But I'll give the Vulcan credit for knowing the way into my brother's heart. Apparently, she has learned how to make pecan pie."

Hogan laughed in spite of himself. "That's a sight I'd like to see. Well, I have to go figure up a new form of punishment. I'll see you around, Billy."

"See ya around, Jack."

But Billy didn't move for a while. He was too busy dwelling upon the letter that Trip had sent him. It was a voice letter, as they all were these days. In it, Trip had sounded so. . . happy, and Billy couldn't understand Once upon a time, his brother had known better.

Eventually, Billy gave up this pursuit and decided that either his brother was a moron, or the Vulcan made really good pie. Whichever one it was, Billy wouldn't hold it against his older brother. Maybe Mom was right, after all, and all that really mattered was that Trip was happy.

_And,_ Billy thought remorsefully, _Trip is definitely happy._

* * *

The End!


End file.
