Received: from [66.218.67.198] by n17.grp.scd.yahoo.com with NNFMP; 08 May 2004 15:26:29 -0000 X-Sender: campbratcher@psci.net X-Apparently-To: ASCEM-S@yahoogroups.com Received: (qmail 18417 invoked from network); 8 May 2004 15:26:27 -0000 Received: from unknown (66.218.66.166) by m5.grp.scd.yahoo.com with QMQP; 8 May 2004 15:26:27 -0000 Received: from unknown (HELO mailstore.psci.net) (63.65.184.2) by mta5.grp.scd.yahoo.com with SMTP; 8 May 2004 15:26:27 -0000 Received: from max (as1-d77-rp-psci.psci.net [63.69.225.77]) by mailstore.psci.net (8.12.2/8.12.2) with SMTP id i48FP3fP008117 for ; Sat, 8 May 2004 10:25:04 -0500 Message-ID: <000c01c43510$b1a5d2c0$4de1453f@max> To: "ASCEM-S" Organization: ConGlomeration X-Priority: 3 X-MSMail-Priority: Normal X-Mailer: Microsoft Outlook Express 6.00.2800.1158 X-MimeOLE: Produced By Microsoft MimeOLE V6.00.2800.1165 X-eGroups-Remote-IP: 63.65.184.2 From: "Keith & Jessica Bratcher" X-Yahoo-Profile: sileya MIME-Version: 1.0 Mailing-List: list ASCEM-S@yahoogroups.com; contact ASCEM-S-owner@yahoogroups.com Delivered-To: mailing list ASCEM-S@yahoogroups.com Precedence: bulk List-Unsubscribe: Date: Sat, 8 May 2004 10:25:27 -0500 Subject: [ASCEM-S] NEW: ENT - Mood Swing - 20/? - PG-13 - T/Tu Reply-To: "Keith & Jessica Bratcher" Content-Type: text/plain; charset=US-ASCII Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit TITLE: Mood Swing - (20/?) AUTHOR: Sue E-MAIL: susieqla@yahoo.com SERIES: Enterprise PART: 20 RATING: PG-13 STATUS: WIP CODES: T/Tu CATEGORY: Angst/Humor/Friendship/ST SPOILERS: Carbon Creek, Harbinger, Azati Prime, Damage, The Forgotten, E2 ARCHIVE: Yes, any and all. DISCLAIMER: Enterprise is the property of Paramount and its subsidiaries. No profit is being made. SUMMARY: Missing scenes... Mood Swing - Part 20 "Follow your heart..." That's what the wizened T'Pol aboard the alternate Enterprise had advised. She'd said there was only one person aboard the battered Enterprise who could help her. That one person being: "Trip," the elderly Vulcan had unstintingly declared. Youthful T'Pol had embraced her words from that moment forward, even if the entrails of her logic scoffed. The emotions she had tapped into would be with her for the rest of her life, according to the aged one. Possibly, Trip might prove to be the truest, kindest outlet for them she could ever hope for. The old T'Pol seemed to know of what she'd spoken...as if it had been decreed. Although, their having had a son, Lorain, in that alternate universe...that seemed blatantly far-fetched. Why would they have wanted a son together, even with Phlox' intervention? Why, indeed? The commander sat up, but slowly, as she often advised him to do, so he wouldn't undo her careful work. He always liked her bunk, being here with her like this, but he felt nervous, and wasn't sure he had the guts to ask her. He hadn't felt this nervous since their very first session. This one, now concluded, had the potential for being his last, end of story. But he had to ask; he had to know, once and for all. "How do you feel?" T'Pol folded her hands in her lap, signaling that she had finished; she watched him closely. Warmth had settled in her eyes, he noted, and welcomed it with open arms. He wondered why, instead of her pajamas, she was wearing tank top and those shorts that traveled up her legs for days. "Good as new, thanks to you...sleepy like you wouldn't believe." "Which was the goal," T'Pol said, making a decision. If he asked to say, she'd let him. Day by day, she felt more stable, better than she had been. She hadn't had the nightmare of strangling him since the end of Trellium-D usage, and it was a great relief. She would never be able to thank Phlox enough for all of his understanding and effective treatment. Due in large part to the sympathetic Denobulan, she had begun trusting herself being in the second in command's company for longer periods. She regretted how insolently she'd treated Trip after the captain departed in his ill-fated attempt to destroy the Xindi superweapon. She regretted many things, looking back... They sat side by side now, their thighs touching. Trip reached for his powder blue T-shirt, lying across the pillow, and began putting it on. When the top of his head peeked through the shirt's opening, his pointy nose jutting against the fabric looked odd, odd and amusing in an endearing sort of way. T'Pol just kept watching, daring herself to ask him to stay. Would he think she wanted him sexually again if she asked? She wasn't sure she wanted him that way right now, but she was sure that his presence was what she'd missed. The confident sound of his voice, the trustworthiness his eyes brought her were just as addictive as what she'd been abusing. Even his scent was a comforter, no longer offensive now. He had his shirt back on, but didn't look as though he was in any hurry to leave. In fact, T'Pol got the feeling he was building up to something. "T'Pol..." "Yes, Tr--" She caught herself just in time to see his eyes widen in arrant amazement. She felt the heat in her face spike, but her facial expression, as deadpan as ever, matched the staidness ingrained in her tone of voice. "Commander?" Another major setback, Trip rushed to judge, like her telling him their having sexual relations had been a mistake. He regretted she used his rank, but all things considered, she'd *almost* said *it,* as though her use of his nickname bordered on being second nature. Perhaps, in time, was it destined to be? Were they? Those were hopes worth nurturing. "I need to ask ya somethin'." "If you need to," T'Pol ventured, "then do so." The raising of the eyebrow closest to Trip she'd done more as an afterthought than it being premeditated. "I will listen to you speak on any matter you feel you must discuss, as I told you." "I'm not tryin' ta be cute, or anythin' by bringin' it up again." He resisted the urge to look away from her. He'd done too much of it when he'd poured his heart out to her over Lizzie and the millions of others struck down by the Xindi. He was determined to overcome this failing. He frowned down at his hands that had begun trembling to a degree as their dampness moistened his sweatpants. She closed her hand over the nearest of his hands. When she squeezed it, she felt her distrait consort jump a little. "Charles," T'Pol announced, the crispness of confidence her hallmark, "just ask." He gulped down his remaining hesitancy, and looking her dead in her eyes, requested, "Are...are ya really sorry..." As his chest expanded, and then gradually his breath left his body, he capped, "We had sex, like ya said? Was what ya did with me the worst thing you've ever done in your life? I'd really like to know. If what we did was the worst thing imaginable, I'll leave ya be. Whether we had a son together or didn't in some other time continuum, I'll get the hell outta your life, and stay out." She wasn't sorry, despite what she'd thrown in his face days ago, and he'd branded her as being stubborn. But neither was she pleased with the way her emotions had abused her while under Trellium-D influence, ganging up on any semblance of reason she fought to hold on to. Sounding more irritated than he actually felt, Trip asserted, "Tell me one way or the other. You're entitled to your feelin's. I won't fault ya. How can I?" In his mind, sterling words nailed it down, *I love ya, T'Pol--I love ya. It's crazy, intense and it'll always be one-sided, but what the hell? I love ya, my problem. I'm no stranger to finished before it's started; the good Lord knows. Done it so many stupid times, what's one more?* "T'Pol?" She shivered imperceptively. "Commander..." He gave her one of his damn the torpedoes, full steam ahead smiles, his versatile security blanket. "Hey, it's okay. It's peachy keen. I understand. It's not the end of the world, at least not yet, anyway. You don't feel the same, like I do, the way I've started to. I just want ya ta know...I'll always be glad we happened. And, yeah, I'm gettin' emotional, so sue me. There'll never be any woman finer; you're perfection, and, like it or not, I've got feelin's for ya." He sighed deeply, and his exhalation fanned her face. "No regrets. Not a one. Just hope I wasn't a diasappointment. I gave ya my best, least I tried ta." His wink was saucy to say the least when he tacked on, "Every time we had it goin' on again." Boyishly he gushed, "Ya kept me comin' back for more." He grew more serious then. "If I was nothin' more than exploration, like ya say, then it was what it was. I' live with it. Hope I contributed somethin' useful to the cause of Vulcan research." T'Pol realized Trip was sincere; his sincerity was palpable, and broke her down to a certain extent. Her hand, clamped around his, was restricting blood flow like a tourniquet. So much so, that the pins and needles sensation pricked his hand's palm. "I must tell you something," she voiced, staring when Trip covered the hand that was squeezing the blood out of his hand with his other one. "I...I..." T'Pol, feeling herself on the brink of being at the mercy of her genie-like emotions, shook. She shook to such an alarming degree that it forced Trip to anchor his arm around her shoulders and hold her to himself tightly. And he smiled at her the way he had when she'd told him humans were the ones to be envied. "If you want to tell me, that's fine, but if it's too difficult to get out right now, save it for another time. I'm not goin' anywhere if I can help it, and I'll help it, as long as you don't go anywhere." She rested her head against him, and quietly told him, "I don't want to go anywhere without you..." As with the use of his nickname, she almost called him 't'hyl'a.' Now wasn't the time for calling him such, one day, though, but not this day. She shouted the voices of dissension within her down, and told him everything: her abuse of Trellium-D, her abuse, as she viewed it, of him, the warped nightmare of her wanting to destroy him, owing to the intimacy they'd shared and his potent charisma, which had, monumentally been the catalyst for satisfying her curiosities from the beginning. The deep terrible shame she felt, coupled with so many of her bullying doubts, had caused her to keep her distance from him, until his need for her demanded she stop hiding. What Trip saw, he voiced, in his usual passionate style. "You took that crap for me!" "How do you arrive at that verisimilitude?" T'Pol asked, stunned, but in better control. He was really quite astute for such an illogical human, the human she was willing to risk her sanity for. "*Me.* Mista Walkin' With His Emotions On His Sleeve, Me, twenty- four, seven. You were curious, and I just don't mean 'bout human sexuality, either. Emotions got ya hooked, darlin'. Okay, maybe I'm bein' a touch egotistical, not ta mention a tad simplistic, sayin' it was just mine that got ya started, but dealin' with me everyday put ya through your paces, am I wrong?" T'Pol nestled more firmly against his strong body, her feelings approaching a leveling off. She felt calmer than she'd been in days, weeks. Tender feelings for him flooded her. "You are seldom wrong, Charles." Trip gasped; he had to gawk, snaking his head around at her, wanting a better study of her face looking stone serious. She had practically hauled off and slugged him between the eyes with that assessment out of left field. "You're sure you're off Trell-D?" he said with a generous helping of ribbing. "Sounds like you're still seriously trippin'." He enjoyed her look of utter non-comprehension. "Trippin'...high, on whatever turns ya on...drugs, booze... Uh, stoned, T'Pol, not yourself, whack outta your mind. Boldly flyin' without benefit of a warp-capable starship." His laugh was sardonic. "Next thing you'll be tellin' me is I've never lost my temper since knowin' ya." "Not quite," T'Pol countered. Looking at him quizzically, and sounding a little naive, she asked, "Have you ever been addicted to anything?" Trip just smiled at her sweetly, batting his beautiful, lucid eyes, deciding to keep mum about where she stood with him on that subject. A glorious image of her standing nude before him flashed in his mind. He butted her nose with the tip of his. T'Pol believed he wanted to kiss her mouth, so she beat him to it, helping herself to his. Unlike the first time she'd taken the initiative, this kiss had less of an edge, and more of a heart. Trip's tongue took its sweet time about leaving hers behind when they finally parted. His lips brushed against the peak of her nose. "Now that's what I call a rush, darlin'." His hand came up to touch her cheek. She didn't pull away. "I'm kinda partial to Jack Daniels, a whiskey sour, occasionally, but when ya get right down to it, nothin' as, well, as volatile as Trell-D. Maybe you'd like to show me how you cooked the junk up. You may have discovered a more efficient way to synthesize it for safer use. *Big* maybes, though, I know." "Perhaps..." T'Pol thoughtfully mulled his request over, letting him go on. Trip mistook her silence for her being apprehensive, and he regretted his thoughtless thinking out loud. "Forget I even asked that. Dumb, dumb, dumb," he muttered under his breath, yet he was thoroughly impressed by her ingenuity; she was as inventive as their time here in the Expanse seemed endless, even if her reason for manipulating the sensitive substance was questionable. "Alcohol in moderation is the best policy, all said and done. Of course, I'm no stranger to hittin' the bottle when things get me down. I did it tryin' to cope with Lizzie's death, and you witnessed up close and personal where *that* got me." She tried not to hang her head down, but when she did, Trip lifted her chin with the tip of his index finger. "I'm human, darlin', and you're Vulcan. Where is it written we're always on top of everythin', all the time? Handlin' gut-bustin' problems, failures, you name it, as easy as pie? Nowhere, that's where. It's just not like that no matter who or what ya are." She turned within his strong embrace, wanting to hold on to him forever. "We flub. We hurt ourselves and others in the process, but with a lot of help at the right time..." He squeezed her with, what he assumed may have neared the lofty neighborhood of Vulcan strength, well, almost. T'Pol had whimpered, after all. He was this close to telling her he loved her, but he said instead, "We get better. So, so much better. Just knowin' you cared enough to help me, T'Pol, means everythin' ta me." Trip buried his face into the side of hers. "You mean everythin' ta me. I swear. I don't wanna lose ya."" He'd gotten carried away, he knew, but what did it matter? He was all feelings now, raw, exposed, reveling in emotions, and her. T'Pol felt herself all caught up in them too. "I gave you my word. My usage has ceased, and I don't intend jeopardizing my health further by subjecting myself to the lethal derivative. Suppressing these emotions I sought is impossible for me to do now. I am flawed. They're mine to live with," she said as though passing sentence on a condemned lost soul. "I will never be as I once was." Trip cheered inside, somehow knowing she'd be better than ever. Before T'Pol had time to recover from his declaration, he wrapped his arms around her neck and chest, holding her fast like an anaconda. She had never felt more protected and the shame that had plagued her was losing its tenacious grip. "I did not anticipate this being your reaction." Lowering her voice, she murmured, "It is I who am unworthy of you." Chuckling at the side of her neck where ear met mandible, Trip touted, "And aren't you the one tellin' me often enough how Vulcans don't lie? What do ya call that whopper?" "I call it the truth," T'Pol stubbornly insisted, his candor, his poignancy overwhelming. Trip kissed the lower edge of her temple. "I call it subjectivity, and that's always open for debate, darlin'. That's on good authority, trust me. I was mighty sleepy before, but I'm wide awake now. Let's talk. I've missed our talks. Let's make a night of it." Despite his earnest claim, he yawned widely. "I miss...well...ya know..." T'Pol, slumped against him, wondering why he had never confessed that he'd read something of Surek. She'd have to get him his own copy of the completed work, if he really wanted to know what he was talking about. Were they meant to be together? That portent was shrouded in ambiguity, as far as she was concerned. Graciously, she suggested, "Let's..." "Yeah?" Trip asked, sounding expectant, eyebrows going up and down. "Retire...together." She could see the neuro-pressure working its desired effect; his eyelids drooped. "We'll sleep now. We can talk tomorrow, during off hours." Falling back on her bunk, taking her with him, Trip, with a whoop and a winning smile gamely accepted, "You're on." Then, a shade suggestively, he broached, "Just sleep?" In the meantime, his hand had begun tracking up the smooth silky length of her thigh, applying more pressure as its ascent continued. T'Pol felt his sexual organ plumping against her lower abdomen, demanding her consummate attention. "*Sleep.* Although you say you're sleeping better, you haven't had neuro-pressure for quite a while," she retorted, so all-knowing, and as cool as a cucumber. Yet, not as chilly as in times past. Desire for her steadily increasing, and as forward as he could possibly be, Trip, his crotch cozying up to hers reminded, "I haven't had *you* for a while either. Way too long." They fit together so well, like compatible pieces of a complex puzzle. "For easing sexual tension..." In her heart, it went much further than that, she knew, but she feared pursing an intimate relationship with Trip, the demands it would make. Surrendering to her feelings for him, that were every bit as volatile as Trellium-D, was unwise. It had to be; she was still so at odds with herself over what she truly wanted. What Trip was doing to her at the moment, however, scrambled her mind, as her heart raced. He couldn't believe his ears. How could she have said that? He wasn't a user, not when it came to her. He left off fondling her breasts. "Hell no, dammit--that's not it, and if ya don't know, I'm tellin' ya! You're not a release for me. You're it for me, T'Pol. I'd never hurt ya like that--you've gotta know! Why can't ya trust me, even a little? Am I *that* scary? Didn't ya mean what ya said? I don't get you." He could shred the dizzying flurry of mixed messages she lobbed into itty-bitty pieces. With all the finesse of connecting a lead pipe with someone's head, Trip blurted, "I guess ya didn't mean what ya said. I'm *not* good enough, period. I *was* wrong. You can lie. Ya *don't* trust me, and nothin' I say matters...does it?" That hurt. How could he know what she felt when she didn't know? She couldn't answer right away. Inside herself, in turmoil, T'Pol left no room for compromise of any kind. "Leave, now..." She hadn't meant to say that; it had just jumped out before she could control herself. Her shaky tone warmed his heart, that look of being unnerved, along with her rash words somehow mellowed him. If she wanted his libido put on hold, then that's where he'd put it. "Don't kick me out, T'Pol, when all I wanna do is be sweet to ya." Trip stopped stroking her leg and switched to patting her head instead of her rear end. "Just sleep then. I can do sleep with my eyes closed. Don't make me go. We've been apart too long." He pleaded with supplicative eyes that looked misty. "I'll do whatever ya say; be whatever ya want. No strings attached to whatever it is we aren't. Just gimme a chance. Please, T'Pol..." He tried moving off the bunk, but he got stuck in transition. T'Pol, sprawled over him, didn't move a muscle to let him up. "I'll go down on my knees if ya want me there, beggin'." T'Pol looked as though Trip had just coldcocked her with a single, well-timed right-cross. She continued testing him out, in silence, until, from out of nowhere, he asked her to tell him a tale; his persuasion was guileless. "Any story, any one you know. Your version of a bedtime story," he wheedled. "I liked that narration you gave Cap'n an' me 'bout your great-grandmother, uh? What was her name, again?" "T'Mir..." "Tell me more about T'Mir..." So, T'Pol related a bit more of her adventurous forbear's, groundbreaking, and to Archer and Trip, Archer more so, unusual travels. In no time, Trip was snoring lightly, proving how efficient neuro- pressure always was. Not to be overlooked was his daily routine of trying to hold the infrastructure of the ship together on virtually no sleep, when the need arose. It had the knack of catching up with him, despite what he'd told T'Pol. She astutely judged that he still didn't get enough rest, no matter how much better he claimed he was sleeping. Just before T'Pol had finished recounting the colorful exploits, Trip had gotten in that if she had flown off to somehow negotiate with the "motherless" Xindi, he would have ordered the grappler deployed to drag her, "sorry, stubborn ass back." "All right," she'd told him, having sounded submissive, "you may stay, but this night only." Gently, T'Pol had nested her fingers in the rough-skinned palm of his right hand, knowing which bundles of pressure points to stimulate, and he'd peacefully drifted off into the deepest slumber. Still and all, just before he fully went, between his being half- awake and half-asleep, he'd slurred, "I'm the *only* logical choice for explorin' human sexuality with...pecan pie's a beautiful thang...and so are you..." "You're dreaming, Commander," she'd whispered near his ear, yet thinking she'd meant it when she'd told him he was, "seldom wrong..." Better contented, T'Pol, now a willing prisioner in his arms, listened to the rise and fall of his breathing until, gradually, she too fell fast asleep with an ear over his heart that softly beat. TBC [Non-text portions of this message have been removed] Yahoo! Groups Links <*> To visit your group on the web, go to: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ASCEM-S/ <*> To unsubscribe from this group, send an email to: ASCEM-S-unsubscribe@yahoogroups.com <*> Your use of Yahoo! Groups is subject to: http://docs.yahoo.com/info/terms/ From ???@??? Sat May 08 17:27:40 2004 X-Persona: Status: U Return-Path: Received: from n37.grp.scd.yahoo.com ([66.218.66.105]) by robin (EarthLink SMTP Server) with SMTP id 1bmtOQ3Qj3NZFjX1 for ; Sat, 8 May 2004 08:32:52 -0700 (PDT) X-eGroups-Return: sentto-1978024-8060-1084030134-stephenbratliff=earthlink.net@returns.groups.yahoo.com