Chapter 1: Breakdown

Jonathan Archer looked out of the shuttle pod's window. The rain just wouldn't stop, yet the two figures still stood motionless, staring at the grave with empty eyes. The funeral of little Elizabeth T'Mir Tucker had ended more than half an hour ago, yet they didn't move. All of the assembled dignitaries had gone, as had the crew of Enterprise, except for the few senior officers who were patiently waiting for the ship's chief engineer and science officer in Shuttle Pod Two.

"They're going to freeze to death," Archer muttered absently. "I'll try to get them."

Leaving the shuttle pod, he slowly walked over to his two rain soaked officers. Stopping at a respectful distance, he tried to rouse them from their lethargy. "Trip, T'Pol?"

Jon thought he was watching one of those slow-motion replays from his water polo broadcasts, when Trip turned his head. Nothing had prepared the captain for the picture he was seeing before him. Trip's look was empty, practically dead. The soaked hair, plastered to his forehead, emphasized the dark rings under his eyes and Trip looked at least a decade older than his physical age.

"Let's go," the captain offered, trying to hide his utter shock at Trip's haggard appearance. Seeing his chief engineer nod weakly, he walked back into the shuttle.

"Prepare for take-off Travis. When they're strapped in, take us back to the ship."

"Aye, Sir."

-=/\=-

Charles Tucker jr. pushed his reading glasses from the tip of his nose towards the top of it. Slightly worried, he watched his wife of many years pace the living room, muttering to herself.

"Darlin', you're wearin' out the floor. What's wrong?"

"Something bad has happened. I have the same bad feeling, like the day when Lizzy ... Pop, let's go to the church. I can't shake this bad feeling."

Although he didn't really understand what Catherine was on about, the pleading and haunted look in his wife's eyes was enough for Charles to acquiesce without questions.

"Ok, Cat, I'll get my suit."

-=/\=-

"Come," Captain Archer answered, when the door chime of his ready room sounded unexpectedly.

"Captain," Phlox greeted, holding a PADD.

"Take a seat, Doctor. I take it you're here because of Trip and T'Pol?" Jon asked, remembering that he had ordered his two officers to report to Phlox after returning to the ship.

"Unfortunately yes, Captain. I am afraid that I have to relieve Commander Tucker and Commander T'Pol from duty for an unknown period of time."

Processing this news took a second, before Jon managed to ask the Doctor for more details.

"I have conducted scans of the Commanders and, without revealing too many confidential details, it appears that both are suffering from a substantial trauma. The last time I've seen Commander Tuckers diagnostic readings in such a serious state was shortly after he learned of his sister's death."

"They're grieving, Doctor, and I agree that they should take a few days off, but Trip managed to come back after his sister died. He will manage it again."

"The most important part of Mr. Tucker's recovery was the influence of Commander T'Pol, something which unfortunately we cannot rely on this time. I would say that Commander T'Pol is as traumatized as Commander Tucker, if not worse."

Jonathan Archer grabbed his chin, sunk in deep thought.

"Doctor, I think I have an idea what could have happened." Seeing Phlox' expectant look, he elaborated. "T'Pol might have established a parental bond to the child and I wouldn't be surprised if Trip did, too. I've had my suspicions ever since the Orions were on board that Trip and T'Pol might be a bonded pair."

If the situation hadn't been so grim, Jon would have laughed out loud at Phlox' stunned expression.

"How can you know this?" Phlox asked. "It took me years in the Interspecies Medical Exchange to get even the smallest amount of information about Vulcan bonds."

"Surak," the Captain explained, pointing at his temple, reminding the Denobulan that he had once carried the katra of Vulcan's most revered philosopher.

"Your theory might have merit," the Doctor agreed. "It might be an explanation for Commander T'Pol's mysterious restlessness during Commander Tucker's short time on Columbia. If your assessment is true, my initial proposal of suspending them is even more important."

"Agreed, Doctor; Please do not ask them any questions about it. They have enough to deal with at the moment," Jon requested, knowing the doctor's likely enthusiasm for learning everything about what was most certainly the first ever bonding of a human and a Vulcan, even though he would have to broach the subject himself soon.

"As you wish Captain."

-=/\=-

"You wanted to see me, Captain?" Hoshi asked as she entered the ready room.

"Have a seat, Hoshi. I need your help. Have you noticed any changes in the behavior of Trip and T'Pol before this whole Terra Prime fiasco?"

"I don't know, Captain..." Hoshi evaded an answer and looked down on the table. She really didn't want to give any personal information away, especially since she had noticed the changes which the Captain was probing for. If Starfleet got wind of how close the two were, they would undoubtedly try to separate them.

"Hoshi, I know they are your friends and I can understand if you don't want to reveal anything, but I can assure you that everything we talk about stays in here. It is important that you help me, if we want to help them get through this hard time."

"Ok, Captain," Hoshi answered with a small nod. The captain went on to explain his questions.

"I've got reason to think that Trip and T'Pol might be closer than we all think. If the hints, that Surak left me when he was rummaging around in my skull, are right, they might even be married by ancient Vulcan law. So have you noticed anything that would hint at them being close friends or even more?"

"Married?" Hoshi asked with a grin that she couldn't suppress. "Well if their bickering is anything to go by..."

"Now, we always had that, Hoshi. I'm thinking more along the lines of body language, little things, like the jokes T'Pol started to make. Not that she would ever admit it."

Well, there are a few things," Hoshi started, trying to remember the details. "There's their meals in the mess hall. They've been doing that for at least two years now, but lately she started to make Trip laugh sometimes. It's almost as if he instinctively knows if T'Pol means something to be serious or funny. I've tried for ages to find a way of reading her emotions, but Trip seems to be the only one who has managed to do it."

"That would confirm my theory," Archer muttered. "Anything else, Hoshi?"

"Well, it's only a rumor, but I've heard that T'Pol kissed Trip in the corridor. But I don't think there's anything to it; she's Vulcan after all."

"Well, she's not your garden variety Vulcan," Jon answered, but his smile quickly made way for a worried frown. "That only makes their situation worse," the Captain sighed.

-=/\=-

"Take a seat," Jon said as Trip and T'Pol entered his ready room, although he thought 'shuffled' would probably be a more fitting description. He had never seen his two friends so lifeless and it worried him badly.

"Trip, T'Pol, " Jon started with a soft voice that he thought he had lost in the Expanse. "I know this is not the best moment to have this talk, but there are some things to discuss. Phlox has relieved both of you from duty until further notice."

Both nodded but didn't say a word and Jon was shocked that not even the predictable protest of Trip came.

"There's something else. From what I've learned on Vulcan, I surmise that you two might be a bonded pair of mates."

"It is a private matter," T'Pol answered meekly.

"I know, but it means that you'll need each other to get through this, so I want you to know that whatever you need, you'll get it. If you want to share quarters, go for it."

"Who knows about this?" T'Pol asked. Jon's worry grew bigger as up to now Trip hadn't uttered a single word. It pained him to see his friend stare blankly at the table in complete apathy.

"Phlox knows, because he has to for medical reasons, and I figured it out by what I remember from my time with Surak's katra in my head. No one else knows, although Hoshi noticed that you're very close, but she's sworn to secrecy."

"Starfleet must not learn of this," T'Pol said and Jon noticed that her voice sounded almost pleading.

"Don't worry, I won't tell them anything and if they ever learn how close you are, I'll fight tooth-and-nail to keep you together."

"Thank you, Captain."

"I think you should both think about leaving the ship for a few days. I can organize accommodation for both of you, if you like," Jon offered.

"That will not be necessary, Captain," T'Pol answered with a courteous nod.

-=/\=-

"What's wrong, darlin'?" Trip whispered as T'Pol opened her eyes for at least the tenth time and stared at the wall, sending strong waves of frustration through the bond. For the last 3 hours T'Pol had tried to meditate, without success.

"I'm making it difficult to meditate, aren't I?" He asked, watching her drop her head and the bond now transmitted waves of shame and fear.

"T'Pol, I won't be mad. Do I disturb you? What can I do?"

"Forgive me, ashayam," she answered, barely above a whisper.

"Don't apologize. Should I go back to my quarters?"

"That would not be of much help. Normally, we would be expected to meditate together, but it takes years to learn the necessary techniques and routines. It is not your fault. Only a priest could help me with meditation."

"Doesn't the embassy have a priest?"

"That is not acceptable. I would be required to leave you here and I must not leave you to deal with your grief alone. I shall endeavor to find a different solution."

Tear welled up in Trip's eyes when he saw her determination, but he made a decision.

"You won't leave me behind, darlin'. I have my family; they will help me while you are with the priest."

"It would be a very taxing time for you. The separation could cause disturbing images to come to you in your sleep. I cannot torment you like that, Trip."

"If there's no better alternative," Trip replied and watched her features turn into a mien of unhidden sadness. He knew that melt-down was imminent if she didn't get help soon. "Call Soval, you must get help. I'll manage, darlin'."

T'Pol nodded wordlessly and offered him two fingers for the Oz'esta. As he returned the gesture, Trip was hit by the full force of her sadness, but also gratitude for his sacrifice.

-=/\=-

"It is agreeable to see you again, T'Pol," Soval offered. "I grieve with thee." The wise old Vulcan had to try hard to hide how much the haggard appearance of his former aide unsettled him.

"It is agreeable to see you as well, Ambassador."

"You appear unwell. Shall I send for a healer?"

"A healer will not be necessary, but I have come to request the services of a priest. I have been unable to meditate for several days and my control is severely compromised."

"Priest V'Lorak will provide you with every help you need," Soval replied and motioned her to come with him. "I'll show you to your quarters, where you can prepare while I inform V'Lorak."

-=/\=-

"Feelin' better Cat?" Charles asked, as he and his wife walked arm in arm back from the church toward their new home in Missouri. They had deliberately selected a house that was situated in slightly remote spot, with a sizable distance to the rest of the neighborhood.

"A bit better. Father Garret is a good man. Do we have enough of our subspace funds left to contact Trip? I won't find peace until I know that our boy is fine."

"Don' think so, but we've got enough of our bandwidth allotment left to send him a video message and he can call back."

After several minutes of quiet walking Charles felt a yank on his arm as Catherine stopped dead in her tracks, burying her face in her hands. "God almighty," she muttered in a breaking voice.

Before he could ask about her reaction, she ran off in a speed that belied her age by at least 30 years. Following her bearing, he noticed a blue-clad ragged-looking figure staggering towards them from the distance. Only the Starfleet issue duffel bag and the disheveled blond hair gave away the identity of his son. "Goodness me," he muttered in shock and ran after his wife.

-=/\=-

"Trip, Trip," Catherine cried as she ran towards her unexpectedly returning son. She almost fell over when Trip lifted his head, making his face visible to her. If the sufferings of Christ had a face, it was currently posing as the face of her son. Something bad had happened, affirming the dark premonition she had had all day.

As she reached Trip, she simply hugged him and continued to ask what had happened in a worried voice. As Trip wordlessly returned the gesture, the worried mother immediately noticed the ragged breathing of his, before all dams broke and Trip started to cry, hard, very hard. Looking at her husband for help she noticed that Charles was close to tears himself. The parents had never seen their son fall apart like that.

"Let's go inside," Charles offered and took the duffel off Trip's shoulder, while Catherine put her arm around her sobbing son and directed him toward the nearby house.

-=/\=-

V'Lorak, one of High Priest Torok's best pupils, was visibly shaken after he ended the mind meld with the grieving woman who sat before him. He addressed her in ceremonial Golic Vulcan.

"Thy mind is suffering from a great loss. I grieve with thee. Thou art bonded. Why is thy mate not present?"

"My mate is human, Tela'at. He has not yet mastered the art of meditation. His presence would disturb thee and others in the sanctuary."

"Thou abandoned thy mate in his grief?" the priest asked, without even questioning her choice of mate. His honored mentor Torok had foretold that such unions would inevitably come, almost half a century ago.

"I did not abandon him. He is in the care of his parents. Humans in grief show disturbingly powerful displays of emotions, which would be distasteful for all but the most experienced and tolerant Vulcans. Our kind is not able well to help a Human in grief."

"Why then hast thou not chosen to help him, for thou must know how it is done?"

"My control over the emotions that threaten to overwhelm me is lost. If I am overcome by them I would damage him. When my control has been regained, I shall return to his side at all haste."

"Thou hast chosen a most difficult path child. Thy adun's struggle will be great, while thou art fighting for control."

"I do know that, Tela'at. My adun is one of few humans with the strength to prevail over the plight that awaits him."

"I hear thy words. Thou shalt rest now for thou hast spent much of thine energy. Thou shalt return when thou art rested."

V'Lorak returned T'Pol's bow and watched the young woman leave.

I shall seek the advice of my mentor, for she hath chosen an arduous path_, the priest thought, before leaving the chamber to find a subspace terminal.

-=/\=-

"What's wrong, honey?" Catherine asked for the fifth time, once she had navigated her helplessly sobbing son to the couch.

"I can't talk about it yet, mom," he managed in between sobs. "I'll need a few days alone. There's a lot to tell, but I can't – not yet."

"Oh, honey, what can we do?" Catherine asked, close to crying herself. Seeing her eldest son in so much pain threatened to overwhelm her. Only her desperate determination to make it all better kept her from falling apart herself. Seeing Charles leave discreetly, she knew that her husband of many years was no longer able to contain his distress and went out of view to compose himself without adding to Trip's plight by seeing his father cry.

"Mom," she heard Trip whisper. "I might have some bad nightmares. Promise me to not wake me."

"Why, Trip? What's happening?"

"Please, mom," he begged. Deep inside he knew that it was very unfair to leave his parents without any idea what was going on, but the feeling of falling apart completely and the overwhelming urge to be alone and trying to reach T'Pol's mind made any other thought as impossible as spending even a single attempt at explaining what he wouldn't find the words for anyway.

His tearful, pleading look was all the answer she needed, even though Trip's strange request only added to her worries. "I promise Trip."

"I'm gonna try to sleep a bit, mom. Can you show me the guest room?"

"Of course honey," she answered and led the way as Trip hoisted his duffel bag over his shoulder and followed her with his head hanging low and hurting from the raw, unchecked emotions that spilled over from T'Pol's mind though their nascent bond.

Neither of them noticed the little leather box that fell out of his pocket as they left the dining room.

-=/\=-

Soval closed the heavy door of the chamber with due care. Looking around, a disturbing sight caught his attention. Priest V'Lorak and his former protégé T'Pol sat facing each other, absorbed in a deep mind meld.

The experience of more than a decade had taught him that the sight of a grieving Vulcan could be disturbing, but the intensity of T'Pol's struggle was challenging his composure. Both V'Lorak and T'Pol were perspiring heavily, despite the cool temperature in the chamber. Both were shaking so badly that Soval started to fear for their welfare.

The Ambassador was still pondering the prospect of forcefully separating the two struggling Vulcans, when the decision was taken off his hands as the priest terminated the meld. With an agility that surprised himself, Soval raced to T'Pol's side when he saw her slump down.

"She shall rest and meditate, for she must help her mate."

"She is bonded?"

"Thou hast not done well watching over thy charge if thou dost not know such an important detail, Soval," the priest answered sternly, despite still fighting to regain his composure.

"When she chose to join Starfleet I decided that I no longer had the right to interfere," Soval replied.

"Very well," V'Lorak nodded. "Thou shalt help her with meditation."

"As you wish, Tela'at," Soval answered as he took the place across from T'Pol, who had regained a minimum of composure. I was a very bare minimum, at best.

"We shall meditate, T'Pol-kan" he said and lit the meditation candles.

-=/\=-

Never had a sailing turn gone so awry. Exhausted, soaked to the bone and frozen stiff, Trip gripped the steering wheel in terror, trying to find land. He didn't care if he stranded the goddamn boat, he just wanted to reach terra firma again.

Another mammoth wave hit the boat, threatening to capsize it. The massive force of the impact caused him to lose his balance and he hit his head hard on the wooden steering wheel. Nauseated and disorientated, he struggled to his feet, only to scream in agony as another wave whacked the rudder violently to the left. His right arm, which had gotten wedged between the spokes of the steering wheel, was broken with a sickening crunch as the wheel was yanked left and right by the violent rudder movement.

Screaming in terrible pain, he tried to regain control of the stricken vessel with his left arm, while the shattered right arm flopped around like a dead appendix, sending waves of excruciating pain through his nervous system.

Yet another gargantuan mountain of storm-lashed water attacked the boat and finally capsized the vessel, sending Trip into a violent dive. Desperately fighting for orientation and trying to reach the surface, he tried to paddle upwards with his remaining functioning arm, but it was a losing battle, as his desperate gasps started to fill his lungs with water.

His senses numbed by terrible pain, his brain by lack of oxygen, he felt the last remnants of life being drained from his battered body. When he realized that his time had come, he felt a firm grip on his left wrist and a quick acceleration towards the surface. When his head broke free from his wet grave, he gasped for air and screamed in sheer terror.

-=/\=-

Charles Tucker Jr. wrestled his sobbing wife away from Trip and out of his room.

"Momma, he asked ya not to wake him!" he hissed once they were in the corridor, both terrified by their son's agonized screaming inside.

"He's dying. My baby, he's dying," Catherine wailed, in complete panic, pounding his chest with her fists in an attempt to break free from his firm hug. Only Charles' earlier bout of helpless crying allowed him to stay composed enough not to follow her example.

"I promise you, momma, I'll talk to him tomorrow," he offered, shaking his wife in the hope of yanking her from her blind terror. "As long as he's screaming, he's alive!"

He immediately regretted his words as they noticed that Trip's screaming had been replaced by eerie silence. Charles rushed back into Trip's room and his breath caught as he saw Trip lying sprawled motionless on the bed. He ripped a small mirror from the wall and positioned it an inch from Trip's face.