Chapter 1: Midnight Confessions

They were walking out of sickbay and T'Pol was trying to think of a way to start a conversation with the man walking beside her, but nothing really came to her mind. She was not well versed in talking about intimate aspects of her life, as this was usually not done on Vulcan. Ensign Sato, however, had made it clear that this was her last chance to win back the heart of the chief engineer. She had to act or he would return to Columbia and all that remained would be disturbing and thoroughly dissatisfying encounters in the white nothingness of her mind in meditation.

"Guess we proved it again," she heard him say.

"Proved what?" T'Pol asked in reply, still thinking about how to direct the conversation to the urgent topic of his continued presence aboard Enterprise.

"That you and I make a helluva team," the engineer answered.

"We seem to work well together."

"Even more, now that we're in each other's head," he added nonchalantly, apparently oblivious to the importance of this development.

There was one little detail about the bond that T'Pol had not disclosed earlier. For him it was just a series of seemingly sporadic daydreams, which drew him into her white space, but for her the bond was a much stronger connection. Since humans had latent, weak telepathic abilities at best, and even those existed in only in very few specimens, the bond in its early stages was almost a one-way connection.

About a week before she had noticed sporadically erupting emotions, which seemingly came out of nowhere. Soon she had observed that their occurrence matched exactly the pattern of Commander Tucker's behavior. Whenever he had an emotional outburst or made his trademark jokes, T'Pol felt his emotions as a resonance in her own mind whenever they were strong enough. This had led to the realization that there was a connection between them and their history left only one candidate – a mating bond.

It was soon time to explain to him the full ramifications of this fact, before he returned to Columbia. As she heard him talk about 'being in each other's head' – a typically crude human metaphor – she also noticed that he experienced a mix of positive emotions at the time, calming her fears that the subject of her desire would be afraid of the unusual connection.

"You're returning to Columbia?" she asked, carefully hiding her insecurity.

"I imagine Captain Hernandez is getting pretty antsy to have her Chief Engineer back."

She saw right through the statement, but was surprised and disconcerted that she picked up no trace of emotional response. He was either completely indifferent or kept his emotions in check, which she had not witnessed too often so far.

"There are still numerous repairs to be carried out here."

"I think Kelby can handle them." The engineer dismissed her sentiment, fueling her worries that he seemed intent to leave Enterprise. "He's been observing my work pretty carefully, when he wasn't trying to blow up the ship."

He still gave no indication of an emotional response and a suspicion formed in T'Pol's mind. He seemed to be doing what he had done so often – engaging in an argument to trick her into admitting something or telling him something in a way he wanted to hear it. A long time ago Ensign Sato had explained that this process was called 'teasing' and generally a sign of affection. Only humans would come up with a sign of affection that could become annoying. It was entirely possible, then, that he was using his arguments for his return to Columbia as a ruse to inveigle her into asking him to stay.

When her female friend, the ship's communications officer, had explained about the custom of teasing, she had also mentioned that the humans often expected the 'favor to be returned'. That was why T'Pol had developed a certain competitiveness in their friendly banter. She was not willing to give him an easy win.

"Kelby is a fine engineer, but he lacks experience," she said and a short wave of annoyance washed through the bond, indicating that his emotional nature had got the better of him – proving her suspicion.

He stopped and she came to halt not too far from him. "Why don't you just say it?" Trip asked, visibly impatient.

"Say what?" She feigned ignorance and started to enjoy this when she saw his slight exasperation. Obviously, the Commander could not eat what he dished out – as Ensign Sato used to say – at least not today. It was not often that she won one of their arguments.

"That you want me to come back," he said and she could easily sense that he was disappointed she had not offered it on her own.

"I believe I did," the Vulcan answered with an innocently raised eyebrow. "I believe that your presence here would be extremely beneficial to our operations."

"No, that you want me back," he demanded and annoyance now resonated through the bond very clearly and strongly.

"I don't know what you mean," she lied, and regretted it immediately. The mixture of hurt, anger and sadness almost drew a visible response from her and she knew instantly that she had gone too far. She might have gotten better at bantering, but she was still clumsy in her interactions with humans whenever she tried her hand at purely human ways of socializing. Again she had failed to stop before he was seriously displeased.

"My mistake. See you around," he sighed in visible disappointment. And turned to go,

The only logical conclusion was to deliver what he had wanted to hear; to undo the damage she had inadvertently done. "Wait, Trip," she called out, knowing that her use of his nickname would make him at least listen. As she had noticed a long time ago, this was the most effective method to get his full attention, since she so rarely did it.

"I want you to come back," she admitted. If she did not concede defeat now, in this small struggle, then it was all too clear that she would lose the entire war, as the human expression put it.

"Then I'll think about it," he answered and turned to go again.

'Thinking about it' still left a fifty per cent chance of the answer being 'No'. Suddenly that thought caused panic and fear of losing him again, and there was not much time to react; so she decided to convey the message in an unmistakable manner – she had to show him why she wanted him to come back.

"Trip!" she called after him with more urgency, then took the couple of steps necessary to catch up with him and kissed the surprised engineer passionately.

Nothing had prepared her for the onslaught of emotions that she picked up now that they were in intense contact. Getting faint transmissions through the bond was one thing; now, due to the Vulcan's inherent touch telepathy, it was a torrent of conflicting passions that caught her completely unprepared.

Love, desire and longing warred with sadness, hurt and anger with a most frightening intensity. But before she broke the kiss and struggled to regain her composure, she also noticed an undercurrent of mischief and satisfaction. Something was afoot.

He gently wiped his hand along his lips and smiled mischievously as he revealed the reason behind his satisfaction. "Three days ago, I told Captain Hernandez that I wanted a transfer back to Enterprise."

"Three days ago," T'Pol answered in barely suppressed indignation. He had tricked her!

"I realized this is where I was meant to be, and this thing between us, isn't that big a deal."

T'Pol could easily detect that he deliberately belittled the importance of their bond and the very unmistakable public admission of her desire. He wanted to provoke her into convincing him of the opposite. The ball was in her court, as Captain Archer had once told Ambassador Soval.

"Agreed." she replied, hiding that she had seen through his seemingly unconcerned reply.

"Guess we gotta lot of work to do," he remarked with an impertinent grin before disappearing around the corner.

T'Pol walked to her quarters with a still very elevated eyebrow. Finally she had admitted the existence of the bond to the ship's chief engineer and although the latest round of banter had resulted in a crushing defeat, she was relieved that she had Trip back. The thought of his permanent departure had unsettled her for the last two weeks and she was almost grateful for the Klingon augments' sabotage that had necessitated his return. Quickly she pushed that thought down – it was illogical and unseemly.

With just minutes to go until midnight, Trip came home after a long day in engineering. Grimy, his uniform covered in scorch marks from exploding EPS conduits, he dragged his exhausted body into his cabin, making a bee line for the shower to get rid of the muck.

I can't believe she did that, he thought while letting the hot water wash off the dirt and sweat of a long day. Admitting that she wants me back was a big enough surprise, but planting a wet one on me – in a wide open corridor of all places! Dear God let it be serious this time, I can't take another push and I can't even transfer away if it happens again. Not after the stunt with my transfer to Columbia.

He had not had the time to process today's events, due to the carnage in engineering, but now the thoughts kept coming despite his fatigue. After cleaning himself, he went back to the main room in search of his sweatpants, but he was interrupted by the door chime. At this late an hour it could only be Jon with an invitation to one of the rare late-night live broadcasts of water polo. He quickly wrapped a towel around his waist. But – unexpectedly – it was not his friend who was making a house call in the middle of the night.

"Good evening. I may have come at an inconvenient time..." He saw T'Pol stop dead in her tracks when she saw his wardrobe situation.

"Don't worry." He dismissed her hesitation and waved her to come in. "It's not like you haven't seen everything before."

"Indeed," she agreed and noticed that he had put on considerable muscle mass since their first - and so far last - disrobed encounter.

"What brings you here and what's in that bag?" Trip asked casually, and then without any sign of shyness dropped the towel to put on his pants.

T'Pol distracted herself from the urge to look at his physique by picking up his uniform and other pieces of clothing that he had dropped where they fell on his way to the shower. Trip nearly chuckled at her compulsive need to restore order and neatness.

"Resulting from recent events and findings, I believe it to be necessary to discuss something with you. The purpose of the bag will be explained in the process," she explained, once Trip had put on his pants.

"I'm dead tired," he said. "But I think you're right, it's best to talk some things out."

Inviting her to do so as well, he sat down on the bunk and waited for what she had to say.

"Based on my actions of today, you have most likely come to the conclusion that my interest in your return to Enterprise is not entirely motivated by professional reasons." It didn't take a rocket scientist to see that she had carefully rehearsed this little speech. Deep in his heart he knew how difficult it was for a Vulcan to speak about her most intimate thoughts.

"Unless you've developed a habit of motivating people with smooches," he joked with a smile.

She did not show much of a reaction to his quip, but he could see she had to stop her brow from climbing up on her features. "There are a number of reasons that prompted my actions and I wish to confess my motives. This will take a considerable amount of time, and therefore I shall not be offended if you ask me to defer it until you have had sufficient rest."

"Don't worry about my rest, T'Pol," Trip said dismissively and shook his head. "I've waited almost two years for you to finally tell me what the hell is going on between us - or not, for that matter. I'll stay awake even if it takes a week."

"Very well." She acquiesced with a nod and continued her narration. "Do you remember what happened when I was exposed to Trellium-D on the Seleya?"

"Sure as hell do. You completely lost it, and ever since then you've had the occasional emotional outburst. In fact, for quite a while I was afraid it had left some permanent damage."

"You are most perceptive. In fact it has left damage, but not in the way you would expect," she explained, and he felt a clenching sensation in his stomach. Was she ill?

"Is it bad?" he asked, and couldn't quite keep his worries from showing in his voice.

"Please hear the complete explanation," she continued and Trip nodded. "When the aftereffects of my Trellium-D exposure started to subside and only a mild influence was still left, I noticed that I could experience certain emotions, even though they are usually instinctively suppressed. Those were fascination, amusement, but also fear and anger."

His bad feeling got even worse, but he decided to refrain from interrupting. He knew the Vulcan well enough to see that she was talking about some things that weighed heavily on her.

"I wanted more of those emotions. I noticed that I fared better in my interactions with the crew – especially with you – and I hoped to become able to reciprocate the outward signs of affection that you displayed. So I began injecting micro-doses of Trellium-D into my bloodstream, which allowed me to access emotions at any time. Unfortunately I had not considered the possibility of becoming addicted."

Trip buried his face in his palms and sighed heavily. He couldn't believe she had been stupid enough to drug herself. When he looked back up, he saw that T'Pol displayed what must be the Vulcan equivalent of the deer-in-headlights look. Her shame and the fear of him sending her away were palpable.

"Do you still do it?" he asked, as calmly as he could in his shocked state.

"No," she answered, her eyes now downcast in obvious shame. "After I was almost killed during an attempt to reach the Trellium-D storage in the cargo bay on the damaged ship, I went to Dr. Phlox and sought medical help to overcome the addiction. The therapy was successful, but my ill-advised actions have caused permanent damage to my neuro-pathways."

He buried his face in his palms again. She was the science officer, for crying out loud. How could she do something so monumentally stupid? A spike of anger mixed into his disbelief.

"You messed up your own body to get close to me?" he asked in sheer bewilderment. "Hell, we were closer than any other two people on the ship! At least, that's what I thought. Way before the Seleya, you had become my best friend after Jon secluded himself from everyone."

"I think we both know that it wasn't a 'best friend' we were hoping to be," she said softly.

"We?" Trip's eyes went wide, his anger getting the better of him. "T'Pol, you kept pushing me away again and again. Hell, you even married that guy Koss! I know it was for your mother, but you never thought it was necessary to tell me that he released you from that mockery of a marriage. I learned about that from Jon. I don't get it, why did you shut me out if you wanted the same as I did? Why did you lie to me?"

Trip regretted his little outburst almost immediately when he was confronted by a sight that was new to him – her tears. She wasn't all-out bawling, but two silent tears running down the face of a Vulcan were an unsettling enough picture.

"Sorry," he whispered, ashamed of his impulsive reaction. He carefully moved his hand to her face and cupped her cheek. To his surprise she snuggled into his gentle touch.

"You have every right to be displeased," she replied in a small voice. "As I explained earlier, I did not only experience favorable emotions. Due to the damage that I had inflicted, I was no longer able to suppress all emotions instinctively. I was unable to deal with them. I was confused and scared. Those unsettling emotions and my inability to make sense of them were the driving forces behind the many wrong decisions I made in connection with you. I was afraid of losing control and damaging you."

"You would never hurt me," he claimed with conviction. The picture of the woman who was now plainly enjoying the touch of his hand, trying to hurt him physically did not fit together in his mind.