Genre: AngstPairings: Trip/T'Pol
Wordcount: 6K
Warnings: Spoilers, Series Finale. Character Death.
She knew the instant it happened.
Before the captain’s hoarse voice bellowed over the communications system, before the red alert klaxon wailed, she knew. It was as though the many years ignoring their connection had vanished, and the connection flared to life with an astonishing and brutal strength that drove her to one knee. A fierce burst of defiance that was not her own burned through her.
She was on her feet and running through the ship corridor with no idea where she was going, other than she needed to get there. A moment later the pressure in her mind released with a white wash of pain. T’Pol stopped, sides heaving as the compulsion let her go, leaving behind only a stark blackness she had never felt before. She blinked, one hand lifting to her forehead as if testing that it was still there. She stiffly spun on one heel, turning away from where she knew he was being taken. She moved instead to where she was needed.
The light of her meditation candle burned far more steadily than she felt. Lighting it had taken a significant effort as her hand shook and the taper waved around the wick before finally setting it aflame. T’Pol sat with deliberate care and little of her usual grace. She took a deep breath, fixing her gaze on the clean, pure light of the candle. As her eyes drifted shut, her mind opened.
“Huh.” The careless drawl came softly behind her, if direction had any meaning in the enveloping darkness. As she turned, a faint light grew around her, lessening the feeling of oppression and revealing a dishevelled Trip looking around with poorly concealed wonder. He blinked uncertainly. “Uh, T’Pol?”
“Yes.” She answered him aloud. The light grew brighter, delineated the familiar shapes of the furniture of her quarters. Trip wandered over to the table, lifted a brightly patterned scarf from it and dangled it from his forefinger.
“I hadn’t expected such… disarray.” The smirk in his voice – and on his face – had its usual irritating effect.
“I wasn’t expecting anyone.” She snatched it from him and stuffed it under her pillow. “I don’t have a lot of visitors here.”
“What’s goin’ on? Wasn’t I just…” He frowned. “Wasn’t I just…” His face changed, hardened. “T’Pol.”
“Yes.” She struggled for the calm in the centre of her thoughts.
“Why am I here? Why aren’t I with the captain?” His forehead furrowed as he fought to remember. “Why aren’t I in sickbay?” He held out his hands, examined them as if they belonged to someone else.
“You are in sickbay.” She was obscurely proud of the even tone of her voice. “The doctor is working on you right now.”
Trip turned away, looked around the room. “Then how?” His eyes opened wide and he glared at her accusingly. “You hijacked me!”
“Hardly.” She replied levelly. “You called me. I simply… answered your hail.”
“Well, it’s time to shut down this communications channel, then.” He said firmly. “I want to go back, talk to the captain.”
“Then go.” She gestured at the door to her quarters. “You know the way.”
He strode to the door, stopped in front of it. He didn’t turn back to look at her, and she was grateful he couldn’t see the look on her face. “How did I call you?” He shifted his weight, still looking at the door. “We haven’t been in each other’s heads in years.”
“Perhaps…” She licked her lips. “Perhaps we simply were not listening.”
The door slid open and he was gone.
T’Pol rose unsteadily to her feet, walked to the communications panel on the wall. Her hand hesitated over the button before she straightened her shoulders and pressed firmly.
[“What?”] Phlox shouted.
“How is Commander Tucker, Doctor?”
[“His lungs are all but vaporised, Commander. Do I really need to say anything more?”] Phlox replied, his frustration clear. In the background there was the sound of hissing gasses. At her silence, his voice softened. [“We’ve placed him in a hyperbaric chamber. It may produce enough positive pressure to keep oxygen in his bloodstream.”] Phlox’s voice dropped further. [“But it doesn’t look good.”]
[“Thank you, Doctor.”] T’Pol thumbed off the switch. She stalked the perimeter of her quarters with restless strides, her eyes returning over and over to the beckoning candle. Each time she turned resolutely away.
“T’Pol.” It was a whisper, a soft tapping at the back of her mind.
She slid to her knees in front of the candle hastily, barely needing to focus on the light before she was back in the quarters of her mind. Even as the edges of the room formed, Trip stepped through the door. He looked haggard, as if his skin was drawn too tightly over the bones underneath. He dropped to the floor beside the low table and crossed his legs into a pose that looked almost comfortable. “You came back,” she said unnecessarily.
“Got bored,” he looked around casually. “Figured this place was a better hang out than the inside of that chamber.” He shrugged. “And it doesn’t hurt here.”
“Sounds like a very logical decision.”
Trip snorted. “Now, why’d you go and say that? Now I’m thinkin’ I should be heading back to my own head again.”
“No!” Trip glanced at her in surprise at the vehemence in her voice. She looked away, thinking fast. Nothing came to mind, so she went for the unexpected… the truth. “I do not want you to leave.”
Trip leaned back, one eyebrow raised in exaggerated surprise. “That has to be a first.”
Her lips tightened, but she continued. “I have never wanted you to leave. Perhaps that is why I worked so hard to make it happen.” He stared at her, unblinking. “I told you so once before, that I wanted you to stay. You told me that what was between us was not a ‘big deal’, if I recall correctly.” The flicker of hurt surprised her. “The years have not changed my… feelings. I still do not want you to leave.”
Trip’s frown had grown as she spoke. “I can’t believe you’re… I’m dying, aren’t I?”
The starkness of the question stole her breath. “Yes.”
He closed his eyes, rested his head on his forearms set against the edge of the low table. “I knew it,” he muttered. “I always said you’d be up front with me over my dead body.”
T’Pol pushed away from the table and stood. “That is not funny.” She opened her eyes, returned to her quarters. Her real quarters, that is.
“T’Pol.” Again, that gentle push at the back of her mind. Like a single finger, prodding lightly. “T’Pol.” Slightly more insistent. “T’Pol!” An outright poke this time. Stubbornly she refused to acknowledge. The pressure eased, and she could feel him considering. Suddenly there was a stab of panic, and the pressure disappeared.
“Trip!” She dove back into the realm of her mind, reaching for that tiny sliver of him frantically. “Trip!”
“Hold yer horses, I’m here.” He ‘stepped’ into focus with an irritating grin on his face. “I knew you’d come back if I gave you the right reason.” The flood of relief was immediately followed by a stab of rage. She glared at him with real fury. He stepped back in shock. “Hey…”
“Commander.” She sought the familiar distance of formality, but the stiffness in her tone betrayed her. “Please refrain from playing games. At least…” She swallowed, hard, “from that particular one.”
He moved to the bed and sat heavily. “I’m sorry,” he said with disarming sincerity. “That was unkind.”
She sat beside him, not quite touching. “Why are you here?”
He shifted a little uncomfortably. “I didn’t want to be alone.” She nodded without looking at him. “Ok, ok. I wanted to be with you,” he admitted grudgingly. “But you sure don’t make it easy.”
“I don’t make it easy!” Her voice rose indignantly. “You’re the one…” She caught the sly grin playing around his mouth and stopped. “You are trying to make me feel better.” She sounded surprised.
“Maybe.” The smirk became a full-fledged grin. “Maybe I just like to watch you get all riled up.”
“I do not get ‘riled up’.”
“Of course not,” he said, deadpan. “You’re a Vulcan.”
“Not so much as I once was.” She took a deep breath and gathered her courage. “You have been… good for me.”
“Well, thank you.” He thought a moment then nodded decisively. “I do believe that was a compliment.”
“Perceptive, as always,” she retorted dryly.
“Yeah, well.” He stood and began to pace. “Do we have to stay here?” He shot her a quick, almost embarrassed look. “I appreciate being here and all, but if I’m on my last shot…”
“You wish to go to Engineering.” His sheepish smile confirmed it. She focussed a moment, and the air around them darkened to black. When the light slowly returned, they were standing beside the warp engines. Trip raised his hand and caressed the smooth metal.
“How long do I have?”
“I do not know,” she said honestly. “You were severely injured. Phlox said that your lungs were all but vaporised.” Trip winced, a hand moving reflexively to his chest. “I have been monitoring your strength. You are weakening.” She fought back her own reaction to the realisation and continued with brutal frankness. “I will not be able to hold you here for long. Perhaps only minutes.”
“Knew you’d give it to me straight.” Trip walked the length of the engine, trailing his hand along the clean contours. “The best memories of my life are right here,” he said softly. A moment later his lips quirked into a smile. “Well, almost all of them,” he amended.
“Many of mine, as well,” T’Pol said, though her eyes never left his form as he wandered through the room. He completed the circuit of the room, his hand rubbing at his chest absently. Suddenly he winced and doubled over. “I am sorry,” T’Pol focussed more firmly and he straightened. “It is becoming harder to mask the pain.”
“I don’t wanna go.” Trip returned to stand in front of her. “I can feel it, pullin’ on me.” She nodded. He looked her full in the eyes, staring as if he could sense the details of her thoughts if he only tried hard enough. She lifted her hand to his cheek, curved her palm to fit his face.
“I don’t want you to leave... me. But I will not be able to keep you here.” His eyes widened at the her stark grief. “I always thought I had more time. And now there is none left.”
He blinked. Suddenly, for the first time since their connection had returned, he let go and allowed her to sense what he was feeling. Rage, regret, fear… something else… “T’Pol,” he said roughly, “I shoulda done things differently.” His accent thickened. “When I transferred back to Enterprise, I was wrong to say what I did. Then I convinced myself that there was nothing else here anyway.” His gesture made it clear he didn’t mean Engineering. “But T’Pol… We were always a big deal. And I haven’t even said ‘thank you’ for being with me, here, now.” He swallowed hard. “Thank you.”
Tentatively she leaned close and placed her hands on his chest, unsure of her welcome. He gathered her into his arms unhesitatingly and folded her close. “I’m going to miss you,” she said.
“Don’t worry,” his voice was muffled by her hair. “It’s like I told you before… the missing goes away with time. I want you to do something for me.” His arms suddenly felt less substantial. She drew her head back in alarm, searching his face with her gaze. It was more drawn than before, and the smile he gave her was sweet and strained. He leaned forward, whispered in her ear. She nodded once, then turned her head and captured his mouth with hers. For an instant he was solid and responsive beneath her hands, kissing her with desperation; the next he was gone.
Her breath gasped out and she dropped to her knees, hands wrapped around her waist as she struggled with the desolate sense of loss. Engineering faded out around her. Never had the darkness of meditation felt so much like being alone.
The candle came back into view as her eyes slipped open. She concentrated on its soothing light, seeking the cold comfort of rational focus. When her communication panel chimed softly she ignored it.
She already knew.
-30-