Received: from [66.218.66.157] by n5.grp.scd.yahoo.com with NNFMP; 30 Jan 2004 06:31:17 -0000 X-Sender: sil@sileya.net X-Apparently-To: ASCEM-S@yahoogroups.com Received: (qmail 80583 invoked from network); 30 Jan 2004 06:31:15 -0000 Received: from unknown (66.218.66.167) by m17.grp.scd.yahoo.com with QMQP; 30 Jan 2004 06:31:15 -0000 Received: from unknown (HELO mailstore.psci.net) (63.65.184.2) by mta6.grp.scd.yahoo.com with SMTP; 30 Jan 2004 06:31:15 -0000 Received: from max (as2-d65-rp-psci.psci.net [63.69.225.161]) by mailstore.psci.net (8.12.2/8.12.2) with SMTP id i0U6T61c016310 for ; Fri, 30 Jan 2004 01:29:08 -0500 Message-ID: <000b01c3e6fa$689c6bc0$a1e1453f@max> To: "ASCEM-S" X-Priority: 3 X-MSMail-Priority: Normal X-Mailer: Microsoft Outlook Express 6.00.2800.1106 X-MimeOLE: Produced By Microsoft MimeOLE V6.00.2800.1106 X-eGroups-Remote-IP: 63.65.184.2 From: "Sileya" 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: Fri, 30 Jan 2004 00:29:11 -0600 Subject: [ASCEM-S] New ENT: Mood Swing - PG-13 T/Tu 1/? Reply-To: "Sileya" Content-Type: text/plain; charset=US-ASCII Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit TITLE: Mood Swing AUTHOR: Sue E-MAIL: susieqla@yahoo.com SERIES: Enterprise RATING: PG-13 CODES: T POV CATEGORY: Friendship/Romance SPOILERS: Proving Ground ARCHIVE: Yes DISCLAIMER: Enterprise is the property of Paramount and its subsidiaries. No profit is being made. SUMMARY: Missing scene. Mood Swing Commander Tucker is under the impression that I've been avoiding him. Where does he get such illogical notions? As I tactfully reminded him, we meet three times a week for neuropressure. Is he hinting for extra sessions? Instead of teasing, he could come right out and ask me for additional sessions. I wouldn't object. I enjoy our sessions; I look forward to them, more than he realizes. They give me the excuse I secretly harbor to run my hands over his excellent physique, without his suspecting that the feel of his muscular yet wonderfully supple body excites me. Touching him, sensing the nature of his needs, exhilarates me more and more with the ending of each session. I don't know why it should, but denying it does is pointless. I wonder what he'd say, or do, if at our next session I told him exactly what I feel for him? Would he put me off the way he did when we met for our first session? He was flattered by what he thought was my making sexual advances, but he was clearly not interested, and at the time, neither was I. But things have changed. The hunger for him grows within me, with no signs of abating. Sometimes, it's all I can do to keep my mind on my duties. The Xindi problem isn't going away by itself. Captain Archer depends on me even more now than when we first entered the Expanse to supply him with the right answers necessary to defeat Earth's most menacing foe to date. Do I seek only the easing of my tensions, or something more from the unpredictable Commander? Does it go against all my Vulcan principles, and tenets that I prize more than life itself to admit that I need him? I need him...I do...need him... I've come far; the idea of needing him doesn't make me cringe. I used to, whenever he stood closer than my keen sense of smell could tolerate. Now, the closer I am to him, the more I long to be even closer. What if I tried with real intent, this time? Would his reaction be the same? I'll never know unless I try... "Don't be such a stranger," he calls after me once I've turned to go, my assistance no longer required. "There's more to life than neuropressure, ya know..." I don't turn around so he isn't privy to my slight nod. I know; there is, indeed. TBC [Non-text portions of this message have been removed] Buy Ink Cartridges or Refill Kits for your HP, Epson, Canon or Lexmark Printer at MyInks.com. Free s/h on orders $50 or more to the US & Canada. http://www.c1tracking.com/l.asp?cid=5511 http://us.click.yahoo.com/mOAaAA/3exGAA/qnsNAA/5x3olB/TM ---------------------------------------------------------------------~-> Yahoo! Groups Links To visit your group on the web, go to: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ASCEM-S/ To unsubscribe from this group, send an email to: ASCEM-S-unsubscribe@yahoogroups.com Your use of Yahoo! Groups is subject to: http://docs.yahoo.com/info/terms/ From ???@??? Fri Jan 30 21:21:04 2004 Status: U Return-Path: Received: from n14.grp.scd.yahoo.com ([66.218.66.69]) by kite (EarthLink SMTP Server) with SMTP id 1aMsh079U3NZFkD0 for ; Thu, 29 Jan 2004 22:36:58 -0800 (PST) X-eGroups-Return: sentto-1978024-7783-1075444424-stephenbratliff=earthlink.net@returns.groups.yahoo.com Received: from [66.218.67.195] by n8.grp.scd.yahoo.com with NNFMP; 04 Mar 2004 03:08:35 -0000 X-Sender: sil@sileya.net X-Apparently-To: ASCEM-S@yahoogroups.com Received: (qmail 82626 invoked from network); 4 Mar 2004 03:08:34 -0000 Received: from unknown (66.218.66.172) by m2.grp.scd.yahoo.com with QMQP; 4 Mar 2004 03:08:34 -0000 Received: from unknown (HELO mailstore.psci.net) (63.65.184.2) by mta4.grp.scd.yahoo.com with SMTP; 4 Mar 2004 03:08:34 -0000 Received: from max (as3-d22-rp-psci.psci.net [63.92.109.22]) by mailstore.psci.net (8.12.2/8.12.2) with SMTP id i2435ZSq019625 for ; Wed, 3 Mar 2004 22:05:35 -0500 Message-ID: <007d01c40195$f90f4960$166d5c3f@max> To: "ASCEM-S" 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: "Sileya" 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: Wed, 3 Mar 2004 21:08:30 -0600 Subject: [ASCEM-S] NEW: Mood Swing 2/? ENT (T/Tu) PG-13 Reply-To: "Sileya" Content-Type: text/plain; charset=US-ASCII Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit TITLE: Mood Swing - Part 2 AUTHOR: Sue E-MAIL: susieqla@yahoo.com SERIES: Enterprise PART: 2 RATING: PG-13 CODES: T/Tu CATEGORY: Romance/Friendship SPOILERS: Hatchery ARCHIVE: Yes DISCLAIMER: Enterprise is the property of Paramount and its subsidiaries. No profit is being made. SUMMARY: Missing scene. Mood Swing - Part 2 "What?" Still looking at her strangely, Trip didn't answer right away. He halted their journey away from Sickbay momentarily. The echoes of their footfalls gradually fading in the gently humming corridor. Trip shut his eyes and freed a long breath. "Commander? Are you feeling all right?" The Vulcan, in the throes of mulling mode, mistook his pained expression for his feeling malaise. "Perhaps you should return to Sickbay..." He shook his head, but it was a halfhearted gesture. "I'm okay. It's only..." He sidled up against the wall, folding his arms over his chest, his unsettled look firmly set. "Somethin' keeps replayin' in my mind, and it won't quit no matter how hard I try to forget it; can't shake it." He opened his eyes slowly. Beneath the weight of his sigh he heard his own despair. He wondered what life post-mutiny aboard Enterprise would be like. Had loyalties and trusts been strained to, if not the breaking point, a position not too far from it? "What does?" "Seein' those critters...the Xindi hatchlin's crawlin' all over the cap'n, like they were right at home. And the cap'n with that vacant look on his face..." He couldn't help but flinch again, involuntarily. "It takes the cake as bein' the creepiest thing I've seen regardless of how many away missions I've been on." It was nearly the worst creeping-out of his life. The worst having been when his father had taken him fishing and the slow-flowing stream they'd fished teemed with leeches. Before Trip had realized what the deal was, his dad was peeling the 'yucky' things off them both, mostly from where the sun never shined. "Your decisive action proved to be his salvation." At best, T'Pol could only vaguely imagine what he had witnessed firsthand. Evidently, the impression the tableau had left was deep. "I stunned him without even thinkin'; my beam cut him down before I could blink. It was like I fired with my mind 'stead of a finger. Everythin' you said rushed into my head." Forgetting to keep the rest to himself, Trip blurted, "And what he said about what you were doin' to me." T'Pol raised an eyebrow, looking at Trip pointedly, a look he recognized all too well. "I mean--" "What did he say I was doing to you?" For only a moment, the new nature of their relationship felt threatening. Though Archer's neural cortex had been severly compromised, despite its impairment, did the captain sense this new dynamic between Tucker and herself? Being discreet was important, if for no other reason than to stop idle talk before it ever started, despite her insistence that their new-found closeness was nobody's concern save their own. For a reason she was at a loss to define, she didn't want the captain knowing about them. Regretting what he'd divulged, Trip didn't reply, readily, the way he sensed she wanted him to. "I'd like to know," T'Pol pressed, but she had removed the bark of it being a command from her tone. Trip said it in one breath. "He said you were manipulatin' me." With his gaze unwavering from hers, he gripped her shoulders with both hands. "If ever that was callin' the kettle black. Those Xindi whelps had him thinkin' he was their momma. If it wasn't for your seein' it first, God only knows how far it could have gone." "Obviously you did not judge manipulation on my part to be true." "Hell no. Score two big ones for the Vulcan team." Trip noticed that instead of T'Pol opening distance between them, she was closing it, little by little. "Let's just say Jon wasn't addin' up, and you never quit bein' the voice of all that's logical. When it comes to logic, you rule." He gave both shoulder cuffs tight squeezes. "And you don't hear me complainin', do ya? Well, at least not as loud as I used to." T'Pol, giving him cat's eyes, untangled herself from his grasp, and to his amazement, took him by the hand. "This way..." "What? Huh? Wher'?" "Do you question where logic leads?" "All depends," he teasingly replied. "...Uh, T'Pol?" A comm linkage configuration, she thought, thinking the enclosed, recessed port would do nicely. Once she had them safely hidden from anyone who might have happened along, she wasted no time molding her body to Trip's who was pleasantly taken aback. Being lead down the garden path never felt so good. He was tingly all over in no seconds flat. "Why, you little dickens, and the feelin' is every bit as mutual. I've missed ya too." Her being confined to quarters had galled him to no end. "Keepin' ya cooped up, under guard, made me madder than a nest of stirred up hornets." He gathered her hands up to his mouth, planting worshipful kisses on their backs. "I admire the way you never lose your cool, darlin', no matter how extreme the circumstance becomes. External factors like Pa'nar Syndrome and trellium D poisonin', don't count." Sensuously, T'Pol wreathed her arms around his neck, enthralling him, owning every inch of him. Coming up for air, his tongue still partially hanging out of his mouth, Trip huskily purred her name into her ear, and suggestively followed up, "I have no problem with manipulation, darlin'. I'll never look at putty the same way again. Mold me..." Impulsively, she cemented her lips firmly with his until he incoherently mumbled about needing air. Kissing the point of her ear, Trip tried to sound more professional. "After I speak with the cap'n, got plans?" "A session?" The crisp glee in his voice had an enlivening ring to it after living on a ship where mirth had, for all intents and purposes, been banished for far too many days. "N-P our way. Can't get enough." He ducked out of the enclosure and the privacy it had lent, not departing before throwing her a wink. "Usual time. Promise I won't be late." When he saw the unmistakable glint dance in her eyes, he laughed. He blew her a kiss, then coached, "You're supposed to catch it." He waved a hand at her. "I'll demonstrate later. See ya." There was a definite bounce to his step. T'Pol left the enclosure and continued on her way to the command center. Her work with Hoshi was far from over. They'd just begun making a dent in the data previously collected. Despite the captain's stripping his first in command of her rank, and not rescinding his decision, as yet, she owed whatever she had to give to this crew, her adopted family. Rank and position had nothing to do with it. The Xindi, and whoever sided with them, could not prevail. Loyalty and the keenest sense of belonging, belonging like never before in her life, which made a real difference to her, were paramount. TBC [Non-text portions of this message have been removed] Buy Ink Cartridges or Refill Kits for your HP, Epson, Canon or Lexmark Printer at MyInks.com. Free s/h on orders $50 or more to the US & Canada. http://www.c1tracking.com/l.asp?cid=5511 http://us.click.yahoo.com/mOAaAA/3exGAA/qnsNAA/5x3olB/TM ---------------------------------------------------------------------~-> 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 ???@??? Wed Mar 03 22:15:08 2004 X-Persona: Status: U Return-Path: Received: from n35.grp.scd.yahoo.com ([66.218.66.103]) by cockatoo (EarthLink SMTP Server) with SMTP id 1aYJf74i83NZFkl1 for ; Wed, 3 Mar 2004 19:09:49 -0800 (PST) X-eGroups-Return: sentto-1978024-7874-1078369758-stephenbratliff=earthlink.net@returns.groups.yahoo.com Received: from [66.218.66.157] by n3.grp.scd.yahoo.com with NNFMP; 10 Mar 2004 01:46:56 -0000 X-Sender: stephenbratliffasc@earthlink.net X-Apparently-To: ascem-s@yahoogroups.com Received: (qmail 82732 invoked from network); 10 Mar 2004 01:46:54 -0000 Received: from unknown (66.218.66.216) by m17.grp.scd.yahoo.com with QMQP; 10 Mar 2004 01:46:54 -0000 Received: from unknown (HELO turkey.mail.pas.earthlink.net) (207.217.120.126) by mta1.grp.scd.yahoo.com with SMTP; 10 Mar 2004 01:46:54 -0000 Received: from sdn-ap-010dcwashp0449.dialsprint.net ([63.188.97.195] helo=SaintPeter.earthlink.net) by turkey.mail.pas.earthlink.net with esmtp (Exim 3.33 #1) id 1B0so6-0007cx-00 for ascem-s@yahoogroups.com; Tue, 09 Mar 2004 17:46:51 -0800 Message-Id: <5.1.1.6.2.20040309204628.01f95540@mail.earthlink.net> X-Sender: stephenbratliffasc@mail.earthlink.net X-Mailer: QUALCOMM Windows Eudora Version 5.1.1 To: ascem-s@yahoogroups.com X-eGroups-Remote-IP: 207.217.120.126 X-eGroups-From: "Sue" (by way of Stephen aka Old Man ASC ) From: "Sue" (by way of Stephen aka Old Man ASC ) X-Yahoo-Profile: oldmanasc 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: Tue, 09 Mar 2004 20:46:52 -0500 Subject: [ASCEM-S] NEW ENT Mood Swing -T/Tu PG Content-Type: text/plain; charset=US-ASCII Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Goofed, Forgot the subject heading -- d'oh!! TITLE: Mood Swing - continued AUTHOR: Sue E-MAIL: susieqla@yahoo.com SERIES: ENT RATING: PG STATUS: WIP CODES: T/Tu CATEGORY: Romance/Friendship/Angst SPOILERS: Azati Prime (MAJOR spoiler contained. If your wish is to remain unspoiled, don't read.) ARCHIVE: Yes DISCLAIMER: Enterprise is the property of Paramount and its subsidiaries. No profit is being made. SUMMARY: Missing scene. Mood Swing - continued "Dismissed..." "Dismissed?" He looks wounded, as though a blast from my phase pistol, the setting a little higher than stun, has just lanced him. He's shocked too; even more than when I kissed him our first time. I mustn't weaken--I must be what I once was: T'Pol of Vulcan... strong, strong, tenable by sheer force of will. No adulteration. A paragon of unshakable convictions who succumbed all too easily. What was I thinking? My experimentation controls me...not I it, as it was at the beginning of my indulging. I'm a true addict, with no will of my own left, driven by riotous emotions gone wild. "Get out," I murmur, commanding myself not to snap, like the crack of a whip. The air crackles with raw emotions, his and mine... He hesitates, but finally turns and gets moving. The tables are turned, as he would say. He seems better equipped to handle this critical situation, far better than I. I cannot control myself...cannot summon the resolve...the ability to THINK-- At least I thought he left. I mistook the door's closing for his being on the other side of it. "I'll leave when I'm good and ready," he defies with a look of pugnacious tenacity aimed dead center at me. "You want me to leave so almighty bad, MAKE ME!" The commander, my would-be counselor, means well, and despite the profundity of my anger, I appreciate that. I'm not angry with him; I am angry with myself. Captain Archer's decision was stupid. I should have been the one to go, not he. I see the advice my lover wants so eargerly to bestow, the understanding he thinks I need, welling up within him. I stifle my gasp, feeling my eyes blurr, rife with tears begging to be shed. *NO! NOT AGAIN!* I won't shed another one. *No...* I beg of myself. If there is any shred of self-control still left in me, I forbid becoming as They were! But...perhaps it is far too late... 'I'm sorry,' I grit out an apology amidst the turmoil that besets my unhinging mind. He mustn't see me like this, approaching my being no better than the paranoid, maniac Vulcans aboard the Seleya, my former appointment, who were poisoned by the insidiously seductive substance I've abused, rather than use as a control. Little did the commander know that when he told me the trellium was stored in the bio-hazard locker that I'd seek it out... using it in minute quantities in order to preserve my emotional reactions to limited exposure. As a scientist, I've utterly failed, and as a Vulcan... I'm a blink away from competely losing ALL restraint. "LEAVE ME," I hiss. I did not realize he had come nearer to the desk, didn't feel his hands on me. He dragging me to my feet and wrapping his arms around me. "Not on your life." It appears my human is made of sterner stuff than I routinely give him credit for. "Please...I." I order myself to ignore the pleasing comfort his embrace lends, but I meld with it, clearly not myself at all, and more than I could have ever hoped to have been. He may believe I used him, but I never meant to. I began using what was forbidden, knowing full well what its use could entail, and ultimately cost me, but, regardless of the risk, I was determined to succeed, so perhaps others might too. Maybe I should have told him everything after I was more sure of his feelings. But if I had, he might have felt used then, and I would be disgraced in his eyes. Could he ever trust me again? What he thinks about me still matters, it always has, though I diligently strove to make it appear otherwise. His opinions are important; that will never change. "Take a few deep breaths," he advises; his chin propped up upon my shoulder reminds me that he means well. Sadly, impossibly, I have much to answer for... "Now a few more, and relax. You're tenser than a steel drum, sug--" He doesn't finish because he knows I do not like being referred to as a substance added to beverages to sweeten them. Mindlessly, I obey and achieve a greater measure of calmness, far more than when I came in here to escape their honed scrutiny, their suffocating waiting upon my next command. My illogical, consistently intuitive lover making so much sense. I, slavishly reduced to an overreactive simpleton, well, nearly. At least, on the verge of breaking down, I had the better sense to flee. "Here, let me help..." He tries turning me around so my back will face him, but I refuse to budge. Resourcefully, he works around what he calls my stubborness, letting me remain as I am, slabbed flush against him. His hands methodically track along my spine, and armed with the practice they have been schooled in, seek my pressure points. I yearn for, then find healing and reassurance in his touch. Some stability... Over these several months, he has become quite good. And he would say it's because he had a great teacher, literally, in both senses. If he knew how addicted I am to the addictive, would he still want me? Hold me in esteem? I am damaged, perhaps beyond repair... "Better?" "The lowest vertebra as well..." "Sure thing." Of the many things I admire about him, and more since our coming together, his alacrity to please, bordering on there being no thought involved, amazes me even during this extreme hour of crisis. He repeats every placement to pressured perfection. I release the breath when he tells me to exhale, ending the effective exercise, and his arms encircle my body to embrace me, a second time. I won't embrace him so he hugs me tighter until he must sense I'm not the crazy woman who just screamed at him. "I let my pessimism get the better of me when I said what I did before. There's a chance he could make it back, ya know, despite his dire predictions before he left. It's slim to none, but you know ol' cap'n. Against all odds never stopped him before. I'm bettin' he takes out their weapon with him in one piece, don't ask me how, then hightails it back here where he belongs." I nod against his shoulder, using the fabric of his uniform to absorb a drip of telltale moisture that managed to escape my eye. I feel the tip of his pointy nose nuzzle my right earlobe before he kisses it. "You care about him too. Don'tcha think I know that? Read you, remember?" He puffs soft breaths in my ear. I frown. He didn't sound jealous. Quite the opposite, as though he's proud; it's only right I should. "So, darlin', ya know what you're gonna do?" I ease away from him, with dry eyes, staring deeply into his matchless ones which are an azure color of smoked glass for as long as it takes to convince me that I don't have to face any of this alone. "You're not the lettin' folks down type. Don't start now. See ya out there." He spins around as though being struck by another pearl of wisdom. "And we're not just countin' on you, T'Pol. We're countin' on each other. Forgettin' that's just wrong." And then he leaves, as though I kicked him out, but with a satisfied smile on his face. A smile I've come to look for, not thinking twice. In the privacy of my thoughts, it is no longer shameful admitting to myself how much I prize this man. The only human I've ever come to...love. Damaged beyond repair...but I shirk that possible reality off, knowing I have work to do. As long as I am partially in my right mind, I will succeed. I was deceived, made faulty decisions; I'm a betrayer, having been deluded that through my efforts, I might help stave off cataclysm. You self-assuming fool!!! The captain must return, there is no middle ground. The entire reason for my choosing to remain with this crew is bound up in him. Even if he has somehow suffered capture, I'll rescue him, no looking back. My life is forfeit. "I'm sorry, Trip...I never meant to hurt you...or...him...any of you." Your friendships are true. I never understood--until now! TBC Messages from this list are mirrored on the ASCEM newsgroup. Read http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ASCEML/files/faq.txt for more information about your subscription to ASCEM/L. Yahoo! Groups Links Buy Ink Cartridges or Refill Kits for your HP, Epson, Canon or Lexmark Printer at MyInks.com. Free s/h on orders $50 or more to the US & Canada. http://www.c1tracking.com/l.asp?cid=5511 http://us.click.yahoo.com/mOAaAA/3exGAA/qnsNAA/5x3olB/TM ---------------------------------------------------------------------~-> 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 ???@??? Tue Mar 09 20:48:12 2004 X-Persona: Status: U Return-Path: Received: from n6.grp.scd.yahoo.com ([66.218.66.90]) by condor (EarthLink SMTP Server) with SMTP id 1b0SOD5az3NZFjK0 for ; Tue, 9 Mar 2004 17:47:22 -0800 (PST) X-eGroups-Return: sentto-1978024-7897-1078883229-stephenbratliff=earthlink.net@returns.groups.yahoo.com eceived: from [66.218.66.98] by n6.grp.scd.yahoo.com with NNFMP; 10 Mar 2004 01:47:10 -0000 X-Sender: stephenbratliffasc@earthlink.net X-Apparently-To: ascem-s@yahoogroups.com Received: (qmail 30520 invoked from network); 10 Mar 2004 01:47:09 -0000 Received: from unknown (66.218.66.172) by m15.grp.scd.yahoo.com with QMQP; 10 Mar 2004 01:47:09 -0000 Received: from unknown (HELO turkey.mail.pas.earthlink.net) (207.217.120.126) by mta4.grp.scd.yahoo.com with SMTP; 10 Mar 2004 01:47:09 -0000 Received: from sdn-ap-010dcwashp0449.dialsprint.net ([63.188.97.195] helo=SaintPeter.earthlink.net) by turkey.mail.pas.earthlink.net with esmtp (Exim 3.33 #1) id 1B0soN-0007hB-00 for ascem-s@yahoogroups.com; Tue, 09 Mar 2004 17:47:07 -0800 Message-Id: <5.1.1.6.2.20040309204657.01f96200@mail.earthlink.net> X-Sender: stephenbratliffasc@mail.earthlink.net X-Mailer: QUALCOMM Windows Eudora Version 5.1.1 To: ascem-s@yahoogroups.com X-eGroups-Remote-IP: 207.217.120.126 X-eGroups-From: "Sue" (by way of Stephen aka Old Man ASC ) From: "Sue" (by way of Stephen aka Old Man ASC ) X-Yahoo-Profile: oldmanasc 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: Tue, 09 Mar 2004 20:47:09 -0500 Subject: [ASCEM-S] NEW ENT Mood Swing - continued... Content-Type: text/plain; charset=US-ASCII Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit TITLE: Mood Swing AUTHOR: Sue E-MAIL: susieqla@yahoo.com SERIES: Enterprise RATING: PG STATUS: WIP CODES: T/Tu CATEGORY: Romance/Friendship/Angst SPOILERS: Azati Prime (MAJOR spoiler contained. If your wish is to remain unspoiled, don't read.) ARCHIVE: Yes DISCLAIMER: Enterprise is the property of Paramount and its subsidiaries. No profit is being made. SUMMARY: Missing scene. Mood Swing - continued "Dismissed..." "Dismissed?" He looks wounded, as though a blast from my phase pistol, the setting a little higher than stun, has just lanced him. He's shocked too; even more than when I kissed him our first time. I mustn't weaken--I must be what I once was: T'Pol of Vulcan... strong, strong, tenable by sheer force of will. No adulteration. A paragon of unshakable convictions who succumbed all too easily. What was I thinking? My experimentation controls me...not I it, as it was at the beginning of my indulging. I'm a true addict, with no will of my own left, driven by riotous emotions gone wild. "Get out," I murmur, commanding myself not to snap, like the crack of a whip. The air crackles with raw emotions, his and mine... He hesitates, but finally turns and gets moving. The tables are turned, as he would say. He seems better equipped to handle this critical situation, far better than I. I cannot control myself...cannot summon the resolve...the ability to THINK-- At least I thought he left. I mistook the door's closing for his being on the other side of it. "I'll leave when I'm good and ready," he defies with a look of pugnacious tenacity aimed dead center at me. "You want me to leave so almighty bad, MAKE ME!" The commander, my would-be counselor, means well, and despite the profundity of my anger, I appreciate that. I'm not angry with him; I am angry with myself. Captain Archer's decision was stupid. I should have been the one to go, not he. I see the advice my lover wants so eargerly to bestow, the understanding he thinks I need, welling up within him. I stifle my gasp, feeling my eyes blurr, rife with tears begging to be shed. *NO! NOT AGAIN!* I won't shed another one. *No...* I beg of myself. If there is any shred of self-control still left in me, I forbid becoming as They were! But...perhaps it is far too late... 'I'm sorry,' I grit out an apology amidst the turmoil that besets my unhinging mind. He mustn't see me like this, approaching my being no better than the paranoid, maniac Vulcans aboard the Seleya, my former appointment, who were poisoned by the insidiously seductive substance I've abused, rather than use as a control. Little did the commander know that when he told me the trellium was stored in the bio-hazard locker that I'd seek it out... using it in minute quantities in order to preserve my emotional reactions to limited exposure. As a scientist, I've utterly failed, and as a Vulcan... I'm a blink away from competely losing ALL restraint. "LEAVE ME," I hiss. I did not realize he had come nearer to the desk, didn't feel his hands on me. He dragging me to my feet and wrapping his arms around me. "Not on your life." It appears my human is made of sterner stuff than I routinely give him credit for. "Please...I." I order myself to ignore the pleasing comfort his embrace lends, but I meld with it, clearly not myself at all, and more than I could have ever hoped to have been. He may believe I used him, but I never meant to. I began using what was forbidden, knowing full well what its use could entail, and ultimately cost me, but, regardless of the risk, I was determined to succeed, so perhaps others might too. Maybe I should have told him everything after I was more sure of his feelings. But if I had, he might have felt used then, and I would be disgraced in his eyes. Could he ever trust me again? What he thinks about me still matters, it always has, though I diligently strove to make it appear otherwise. His opinions are important; that will never change. "Take a few deep breaths," he advises; his chin propped up upon my shoulder reminds me that he means well. Sadly, impossibly, I have much to answer for... "Now a few more, and relax. You're tenser than a steel drum, sug--" He doesn't finish because he knows I do not like being referred to as a substance added to beverages to sweeten them. Mindlessly, I obey and achieve a greater measure of calmness, far more than when I came in here to escape their honed scrutiny, their suffocating waiting upon my next command. My illogical, consistently intuitive lover making so much sense. I, slavishly reduced to an overreactive simpleton, well, nearly. At least, on the verge of breaking down, I had the better sense to flee. "Here, let me help..." He tries turning me around so my back will face him, but I refuse to budge. Resourcefully, he works around what he calls my stubborness, letting me remain as I am, slabbed flush against him. His hands methodically track along my spine, and armed with the practice they have been schooled in, seek my pressure points. I yearn for, then find healing and reassurance in his touch. Some stability... Over these several months, he has become quite good. And he would say it's because he had a great teacher, literally, in both senses. If he knew how addicted I am to the addictive, would he still want me? Hold me in esteem? I am damaged, perhaps beyond repair... "Better?" "The lowest vertebra as well..." "Sure thing." Of the many things I admire about him, and more since our coming together, his alacrity to please, bordering on there being no thought involved, amazes me even during this extreme hour of crisis. He repeats every placement to pressured perfection. I release the breath when he tells me to exhale, ending the effective exercise, and his arms encircle my body to embrace me, a second time. I won't embrace him so he hugs me tighter until he must sense I'm not the crazy woman who just screamed at him. "I let my pessimism get the better of me when I said what I did before. There's a chance he could make it back, ya know, despite his dire predictions before he left. It's slim to none, but you know ol' cap'n. Against all odds never stopped him before. I'm bettin' he takes out their weapon with him in one piece, don't ask me how, then hightails it back here where he belongs." I nod against his shoulder, using the fabric of his uniform to absorb a drip of telltale moisture that managed to escape my eye. I feel the tip of his pointy nose nuzzle my right earlobe before he kisses it. "You care about him too. Don'tcha think I know that? Read you, remember?" He puffs soft breaths in my ear. I frown. He didn't sound jealous. Quite the opposite, as though he's proud; it's only right I should. "So, darlin', ya know what you're gonna do?" I ease away from him, with dry eyes, staring deeply into his matchless ones which are an azure color of smoked glass for as long as it takes to convince me that I don't have to face any of this alone. "You're not the lettin' folks down type. Don't start now. See ya out there." He spins around as though being struck by another pearl of wisdom. "And we're not just countin' on you, T'Pol. We're countin' on each other. Forgettin' that's just wrong." And then he leaves, as though I kicked him out, but with a satisfied smile on his face. A smile I've come to look for, not thinking twice. In the privacy of my thoughts, it is no longer shameful admitting to myself how much I prize this man. The only human I've ever come to...love. Damaged beyond repair...but I shirk that possible reality off, knowing I have work to do. As long as I am partially in my right mind, I will succeed. I was deceived, made faulty decisions; I'm a betrayer, having been deluded that through my efforts, I might help stave off cataclysm. You self-assuming fool!!! The captain must return, there is no middle ground. The entire reason for my choosing to remain with this crew is bound up in him. Even if he has somehow suffered capture, I'll rescue him, no looking back. My life is forfeit. "I'm sorry, Trip...I never meant to hurt you...or...him...any of you." Your friendships are true. I never understood--until now! TBC Messages from this list are mirrored on the ASCEM newsgroup. Read http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ASCEML/files/faq.txt for more information about your subscription to ASCEM/L. Yahoo! Groups Links 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 ???@??? Wed Mar 10 10:06:16 2004 X-Persona: Status: U Return-Path: Received: from n15.grp.scd.yahoo.com ([66.218.66.70]) by skylark (EarthLink SMTP Server) with SMTP id 1b15fs1Ze3NZFjw1 for ; Wed, 10 Mar 2004 07:03:54 -0800 (PST) X-eGroups-Return: sentto-1978024-7898-1078931024-stephenbratliff=earthlink.net@returns.groups.yahoo.com eceived: from [66.218.66.29] by n38.grp.scd.yahoo.com with NNFMP; 01 May 2004 15:13:10 -0000 X-Sender: campbratcher@psci.net X-Apparently-To: ASCEM-S@yahoogroups.com Received: (qmail 58549 invoked from network); 1 May 2004 15:13:09 -0000 Received: from unknown (66.218.66.216) by m23.grp.scd.yahoo.com with QMQP; 1 May 2004 15:13:09 -0000 Received: from unknown (HELO mailstore.psci.net) (63.65.184.2) by mta1.grp.scd.yahoo.com with SMTP; 1 May 2004 15:13:09 -0000 Received: from max (as1-d10-rp-psci.psci.net [63.69.225.10]) by mailstore.psci.net (8.12.2/8.12.2) with SMTP id i41FCbDr020959 for ; Sat, 1 May 2004 10:12:38 -0500 Message-ID: <002501c42f8e$c96334c0$0ae1453f@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, 1 May 2004 10:12:57 -0500 Subject: [ASCEM-S] New ENT - Mood Swing - 19/? PG-13 (T/Tu) Reply-To: "Keith & Jessica Bratcher" Content-Type: text/plain; charset=US-ASCII Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit TITLE: Mood Swing - (19/?) AUTHOR: Sue E-MAIL: susieqla@yahoo.com SERIES: Enterprise PART: 19 RATING: PG-13 STATUS: WIP CODES: T/Tu CATEGORY: Angst/Friendship/Could Even Be Love... SPOILERS: Harbinger, The Forgotten ARCHIVE: Yes DISCLAIMER: Enterprise is the property of Paramount and its subsidiaries. No profit is being made. SUMMARY: Trip POV, missing scenes... Mood Swing - Part 19 T'Pol Redux After my head stopped spinnin', and the realization hit me that T'Pol was touchin' me, I latched onto her hand like it was a lifeline she extended, and now that I think about it, that's exactly what it was. T'Pol and I connected like never before, and it was so much more than when she gave her body to me. Make no mistake, I loved the aggressive way she took charge and made sure I got the message she wanted me. And boy, I bit, hook, line and sinker; as long as I live, I'll never forget her and the fineness she is. But, how she reached out to me a little while ago...I can't explain it...it just felt like she was really there this time, carin' about me, wantin' to be a comfort as though her life depended upon it. She's never done that before. There wasn't anythin' sterile or business as usual about her when she made it clear how much she wanted to be there for me. My pain was hers. I weighted that small condolatory hand on my shoulder with mine, and gave it a firm, hard squeeze. I broke down all over again, seeing her eyes, the widest and wisest I've ever seen them, meet mine, as a tidal wave of tender feelings for her and the solace she offered swamped me for keeps. Any walls we've ever had between us collapsed right then and there. This was a woman--a real one--with honest to goodness soul, not some impossible machine! For what felt like too many minutes, any words I'd wanted to say clogged in the pit of my throat, and all I could do was float between the heaven and hell I'd created for myself since we left home, bent on revenge. Tellin' her that she should be happy bein' Vulcan, not havin' emotions to brutalize a person every step of the way was a release. She and hers have got the right idea. When I told her I envied Vulcans for that, I meant it with all my heart. But I was dead wrong about Vulcans not feelin' anythin' for those they've lost after she told me the truth. It was after what she said about not givin' into emotions, not lettin' them overwhelm and we humans are the ones to be envied that I knew. Armed with the knowledge, I felt strangely at peace...regardless of whether we succeed or fail to save our world. This is the woman I could spend the rest of my life with. By the look in her eyes, I knew she felt the same about me. Just squeezin' her reassurin' hand some more wasn't enough. I couldn't help my-damn-self and I think she wanted me to, anyway; we both felt better for my pulling her into my arms. After we hugged, and I have to admit, T'Pol hugs harder than I do, any day of the week, we walked hand in hand to retrieve the portable power cells I'd angrily kicked away. We got to work on the extensive damage; it was a doozy of a patch job, I kid you not... more like a spit and a prayer quick fix, and I'll own up to the fact that my spit's been runnin' pretty dry these days. Tirelessly, T'Pol and I worked side by side as though that's how it should always be. I'd stake my job on the relays holdin' up and the repair crews have their power, thanks to the timely, practicable suggestions my able assistant made. I was bein' a real snide pain in the ass when I made the crack about T'Pol helpin' if she could resurrect the dead. I was only partly-right when I'd said my slain engineer, as well as others of the fallen, had a knack for fixin' fused assemblies. I was angrier than hell at the whole damn universe when I said what I said. Jane Taylor was gifted, and would have made a crackerjack chief engineer on whatever vessel she might have been assigned to, had she survived. The bright flame of her candle was snuffed out way too early...just like Lizzie's. Yet, T'Pol, my T'Pol, though, is a wiz through and through, an analytical, technophilic natural, at anythin' she sets her mind to do. Whatever she does, she does it so well. She's the first to admit she's Vulcan, not a so-called human magician. She's not immune to makin' mistakes...yeah, right. She should know by now that our disagreein' is what makes life a lot more fun. You'd think after all this time workin' so closely together I'd know what a sharpie this lovely lady is like the back of my hand. I know some things, but not nearly enough. There's so much I don't know about her still. But I do know somethin' else, now, somethin' I've locked away in my head. T'Pol's a giver, and I can't thank her enough for what she's given me...the will to go on, to see all of this uphill battle through. If I only get one wish, it's this: Let there be time. Time that'll lend itself to appreciatin' the paradox that is this remarkable woman, and some small hope that there might be a place where I fit within the beautiful puzzle. The letter to Taylor's parents done, I close my eyes, free to quietly reflect on what the immediate future could hold. Breathin' in deeply, then lettin' it out with control, the way I've been shown, I solemnly say, "Goodbye, Elizabeth." I take another deep breath, lift my hand up from her framed photograph and rise from my bunk just as the comm sounds off. It's T'Pol. "Commander, I need you." Funny, I was thinkin' the same about needin' her, like needin' air for my next breath. "I'm in the Command Center. Analysis of the co-ratial throposcopic data you collected is complete. I believe the findings confirm what you suspected." "Sure thing, T'Pol. Be right there." And I am. TBC [Non-text portions of this message have been removed] Buy Ink Cartridges or Refill Kits for your HP, Epson, Canon or Lexmark Printer at MyInks.com. Free s/h on orders $50 or more to the US & Canada. http://www.c1tracking.com/l.asp?cid=5511 http://us.click.yahoo.com/mOAaAA/3exGAA/qnsNAA/5x3olB/TM ---------------------------------------------------------------------~-> Yahoo! Groups Links <*> To visit your group on the web, go to: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ASCEM-S/ <*> To unsubscribe from this group, send an email to: ASCEM-S-unsubscribe@yahoogroups.com <*> Your use of Yahoo! Groups is subject to: http://docs.yahoo.com/info/terms/ From ???@??? Sat May 01 15:25:45 2004 X-Persona: Status: U Return-Path: Received: from n26.grp.scd.yahoo.com ([66.218.66.82]) by skylark (EarthLink SMTP Server) with SMTP id 1bjWbM5mc3NZFjw1 for ; Sat, 1 May 2004 08:14:02 -0700 (PDT) X-eGroups-Return: sentto-1978024-8032-1083424437-stephenbratliff=earthlink.net@returns.groups.yahoo.com eceived: from [66.218.67.198] by n17.grp.scd.yahoo.com with NNFMP; 08 May 2004 15:26:29 -0000 X-Sender: campbratcher@psci.net X-Apparently-To: ASCEM-S@yahoogroups.com Received: (qmail 18417 invoked from network); 8 May 2004 15:26:27 -0000 Received: from unknown (66.218.66.166) by m5.grp.scd.yahoo.com with QMQP; 8 May 2004 15:26:27 -0000 Received: from unknown (HELO mailstore.psci.net) (63.65.184.2) by mta5.grp.scd.yahoo.com with SMTP; 8 May 2004 15:26:27 -0000 Received: from max (as1-d77-rp-psci.psci.net [63.69.225.77]) by mailstore.psci.net (8.12.2/8.12.2) with SMTP id i48FP3fP008117 for ; Sat, 8 May 2004 10:25:04 -0500 Message-ID: <000c01c43510$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 eceived: from [66.218.67.196] by n31.grp.scd.yahoo.com with NNFMP; 17 May 2004 01:40:44 -0000 X-Sender: campbratcher@psci.net X-Apparently-To: ASCEM-S@yahoogroups.com Received: (qmail 48890 invoked from network); 17 May 2004 01:40:43 -0000 Received: from unknown (66.218.66.218) by m3.grp.scd.yahoo.com with QMQP; 17 May 2004 01:40:43 -0000 Received: from unknown (HELO mailstore.psci.net) (63.65.184.2) by mta3.grp.scd.yahoo.com with SMTP; 17 May 2004 01:40:43 -0000 Received: from max (as3-d86-rp-psci.psci.net [63.92.109.86]) by mailstore.psci.net (8.12.2/8.12.2) with SMTP id i4H1eSoB001423 for ; Sun, 16 May 2004 20:40:28 -0500 Message-ID: <002a01c43baf$fe1dd4e0$87c5fea9@max> To: "ASCEM-S" 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: Sun, 16 May 2004 20:40:53 -0500 Subject: [ASCEM-S] NEW: ENT Mood Swing - WIP - 21/? - PG-13 - (T/Tu) Reply-To: "Keith & Jessica Bratcher" Content-Type: text/plain; charset=US-ASCII Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit TITLE: Mood Swing - (21/?) AUTHOR: Sue E-MAIL: susieqla@yahoo.com SERIES: Enterprise PART: 21 RATING: PG-13 STATUS: WIP CODES: T/Tu CATEGORY: Angst/Humor/Romance SPOILERS: The Council 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 21 Of course she was acting strangely, attentive to him one minute, cold to him the next. Hoshi, the perceptive young woman that she was, had put it very succinctly when she thought T'Pol couldn't possibly hear from where she'd been sitting... "Whiplash." T'Pol could hear from one end of the mess hall clear to the other with it filled to capacity if she chose to hone in on a conversation in particular. Of all men from which to choose, she had to have feelings for the most emotional man on two legs. His emotions were running off the scopes, these days, but hers weren't any better. His latest hobby had become hammering her with: "Hey, I'm an emotional guy. What's -*your*- excuse?" which only goaded her to react emotionally, although any manifestations of his effect on her were meticulously hidden from his flashing eyes. What lovely eyes, T'Pol never stopped herself from thinking every time they nailed hers. These emotions would be her ruler if she didn't get the upper hand, and soon. The question was, did she want to gain that upper hand, when all was said and done? The commander relished telling her what he was so often enough, always giving special emphasis to his being that emotional guy whose mouth was off and running before his brain caught up. But his apologies, and he would spring them on her when she least expected them, were worth his weight in Trellium. It wasn't only his being emotional, it was to the degree he was. It was flinchingly obvious that he could get highly emotional over anything, practically. Starfleet spec-approved Y-L bolts could even be used as an example. If they got the least bit scored due to a tech's forgetfulness that they, unlike other more basic bolts, needed to be tightened counterclockwise, the commander had been known on more than a few occasions to blow like Vesuvius. Certain assistant engineers lived in the 'hall of shame,' all credit going to Tucker, the stickler, who considered any lapse of that nature a major failing. It was hardly as serious as, say, cross- ventilating Anculus manifolds. Now -*that*- was grounds for a court-martial, chief engineer style. The phrase, 'Wearing one's heart on one's sleeve' had to have been coined for Tucker-types. Movie Night had become his proving ground, when life aboard Enterprise had more normalcy. The way he'd carried on at them, some crew members had gotten into the weekly habit of making bets on how long it would take him to 'lose it.' T'Pol understood that many of the 'big winners' were key players on his staff. These and assorted other incidents had left indelible impressions on T'Pol's memory. These were just the sort of memories that mainlined her emotions. For all that he thought he knew about Vulcans, especially this one whom he was involved with, he still had volumes to learn, and she never missed her chance to tell -*him*- so. She had grown found of 'educating' him. "An emotional guy," indeed; she'd known that from day one, and, regardless, she'd become hooked--on him--first! The craving need for Trellium-D had reared its ugly head later, only because it had been a means to an end. She wanted these feelings, now, more than ever, had risked everything to tap into them, but controlling them was the clincher. So...T'Pol turned over in her mind for the umpteenth time, what - *was*- she going to do? He had provoked these strong emotions in her, leaving her feeling 'all over the place,' as she'd heard Travis use the expression, and judged it fit her description as well. The commander could be her outlet, but the thought still filled her with limiting anxiety. Despite the pragmatic advice she'd been given, T'Pol never stopped analyzing what every waking moment had now become...a paradox. That was the only word that adequately summed up what she faced on a routine basis whenever Commander Tucker and she shared the same air space... POV T'Pol - Past and Present... "You okay?" "Just a mild headache..." It wasn't a complete lie; I could feel one coming on. "I thought Vulcans didn't get headaches?" Vulcans aren't supposed to get lots of things, getting emotionally addicted to a human, and in turn to a lethal substance, for starters. I thought fast. "I'm needed in the Command Center..." I'm in need of courage, the kind I used to rely on, and now see I took for granted. And, Commander, I'm in need of unburdening myself, knowing that if I tell you all there is to know, I'll lose you. No one better than I knows that your rejection would be the epitome of logic. My logic, novelly-tempered by these emotions, argued for not wanting to lose him. I vacillated, wanting to confide, but couldn't. I 'turned tail,' as I've heard him use the expression, and fled Sickbay as though being in the same room with him was tantamount to throwing myself into the warp core. I should have told him. I should have when I'd had the chance. "Now, ya know if I weren't needed here, I'd be goin' with you in a heartbeat." I wish there had been a way for him to have come. I couldn't bring myself to tell him I didn't like the idea of leaving him behind. Ridiculous sentiment of which I'm cogently aware, yet it's what I felt, and feeling isn't the bane it once was, although it still unsettles me; it probably always will. As impassively as ever, I replied: "You are needed here, Commander. Mister Reed's mission is in capable hands. He is running it in conjunction with one of the MACOs." "Yeah, Corporal Hawkins. Malcolm gave me the complete rundown while I pumped him dry. I'd still feel a whole lot better if I were comin' along...too...to uh, well, to personally watch your back, Sub-comman-- ah, hell--T'Pol! I'd breathe much easier." He'd been impossible, as always...and his impossibility had gathered steam without his batting an eye. I could do nothing but stare at him as though deprived of the power of speech. "I've lost so much already. If I lose you too, T'Pol, I'll go stark ravin' crazy--sure as I'm standin' here not wantin' to let you go." The same woebegone look his eyes had clung to before we worked with the Xindi portable power cells afflicted them again. The venerated, and, yes, cherished Vulcan axiom was on the tip of my tongue. I restrained myself from speaking it, having already anticipated he would not appreciate its implications. I could utter it for anyone else, but not for Trip. He needed something more real for him to hold on to, something he could equate with my heartfelt concern. I owed it to him after what we'd shared... I'd taken several deep breaths to center myself. I had not wanted him to hug me, but naturally, he did. While he imprisoned me in his desperate embrace, with my lips barely moving, I instructed: "Focus on me, Charles, despite the many demands constantly made of you, though blocking nothing out. I've taught you how. Focus, and we'll be together...we will." He shed some tears, and I had nearly shed some of my own. And then I had to go; duty called. His parting words turned me around... "You be careful, now, ya hear!" Once again, in such a short period of time, Enterprise is battling for its life against the greatest of odds. It doesn't bode well. The battle is moments into being waged when my 't'hyl'a's and my thoughts intertwine. We focus on each other through a bond that cannot be rightly thought of as such; it is more like an echoing whorl shared between two minds yearning to meld, two souls trying to connect through the void of space. Our linkage is premature, twitchy, yet the etching of it is there. There is no mistaking its existence, and breathing deeply again, I cling to it. I cling to my 't'hyl'a' like never before. He is truly remarkable. Amidst all the fear, upheaval and tension, he is purposeful, his mind the sharpest and clearest I've ever known it to be. Now he comprehends how I wanted to disclose to him, without fear, no holding back. We sense through our link that we may never see each other again. His sadness stabs at me, and cradling it, I soothe his mind. It is then I stream to my beloved Charles...'*The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few...*' He tells me how much he loves me. I tell him I have come to understand, and a surge of emotions rips through me. Passionately, I insist my feelings for him will never die... Stubborn...we both are, which perhaps explains it all. If I were with him he would swear he saw me smile, but then I'd have to remind him that Vulcans don't smile, and he'd say, "The hell they don't!" '*Never die,*' I reiterate, and the power behind those impassioned words empowers me. Intractably, he insists, '*Never, darlin', NEVER!*' '*We have information you can use--it might--*' '*Can ya transmit?*' '*Yes!*' '*We need all the help we can get right now...send it through!*' Trip doesn't need to tell me twice. TBC [Non-text portions of this message have been removed] Yahoo! Domains - Claim yours for only $14.70 http://us.click.yahoo.com/Z1wmxD/DREIAA/yQLSAA/5x3olB/TM ---------------------------------------------------------------------~-> 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 ???@??? 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PG-13, T/Tu Reply-To: "Keith & Jessica Bratcher" Content-Type: text/plain; charset=US-ASCII Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit TITLE: Mood Swing - (22/?) AUTHOR: Sue E-MAIL: susieqla@yahoo.com SERIES: Enterprise PART: 22 RATING: PG-13 STATUS: WIP CODES: T/Tu CATEGORY: Angst/Humor/Romance SPOILERS: Countdown ARCHIVE: Yes, all archives are fine, no permission necessary. DISCLAIMER: Enterprise is the property of Paramount and its subsidiaries. No profit is being made. SUMMARY: Missing scene Mood Swing - Part 22 "How's the readin' so far? I figured it'd be somethin' you could sink your teeth into." Trip looked up from his, a text on advanced quantum mechanics relative to problematic space. It, along with the six other volumes making up the set, had been a gift from one of his mentors, a Dr. Samuel Gelles, a professor emeritus, who had predicted he would, "Go far, one day." Never in the learned physicist's many years of mentoring quick, young minds could he have foreseen just how far his brightest pupil would go, one of the key persons on a do-or-die mission to save the planet. So often life was far stranger than fiction. T'Pol's selection, Volume II of the series he recommended she peruse, was worthy of her attention, but her mind wasn't in it. Any other time, certainly, and although this was a crucial time when supplemental information could do nothing but help, a little voice urging from within advocated she stop pushing herself. She needed to meditate. Having forgone it for so long, it dawned on her that taking it up at this point might not be as simple as just starting in again. She lay the thick book aside, and her vision remained with it. It was only when Trip spoke to her that she realized she was sighing. "Tired?" "Somewhat." Another sigh nearly escaped her. "You look it." She looked up then. "So do you." Trip jammed the pad of his index finger into the sloping nook near his right eye and pressed. Eyestrain, he thought, and blocked his yawn with the side of his hand. "Well, we have been burnin' the midnight oil over the long haul ever since Cap'n left. Least we got somethin' concrete to show for it when we rendezvous. Puttin' the finishin' touches on all our hard work little over an hour ago felt good. What you pulled out of forty-one was a windfall." "Your idea of intermittent transference of polarity increasing the discharge's yield significantly has viable merit." "-*Our*- idea, remember?" "Perhaps calling it a blending of innovation is more suitable." "Tomato, tomotto, an idea that works ninety-nine point nine percent of the time within the parameters of modular controls, with negligible variances, is an idea worth runnin' with in my book." T'Pol nodded, feeling satisfied with their hard-won accomplishments. Yet despite the promising achievement, she felt more than a little off-balance emotionally. She'd gone to see Phlox before getting herself something to eat. His suggestion had been for her to get back to meditation. She longed to meditate, but wondered if she were capable of concentrating, imaging and projecting to the degree necessary to do her the good it used to. "So were ya serious?" She'd closed her eyes! How had that happened? In the interim, Trip had positioned himself closer so he was sitting alongside her on the cushion-littered floor of her quarters whose illumination was not owed to candles, for once. -She's got to be real tired- Trip thought -if she just nodded off like that- "Maybe I should go. Give ya a chance to get some well-deserved rest." "No!" T'Pol turned to face him sharply. "Don't go." -Not what I expected...just when I think I've got better clues, she changes up on me- Trip relaxed his stance, taking his time before responding. "I'm only thinkin' of you, T'Pol. You're all done--" "Was I serious about what?" "In..." Trip considered the dark shadows under her eyes, along with the inquiry in them. "Joinin' up with us? Starfleet's finest. Makin' it official..." "As I said, I'm considering it." How hard would it be to ask him to meditate with her? His presence was soothing, and if he acceded to join her, she had the feeling the meditation would proceed more smoothly. But, asking him, that was the challenge. Meditation wasn't neuro-pressure; the two were as different as Vulcan and Earth. The mentality for the discipline required rigorous discipline, and single- minded concentration. The commander had his moments with both, brief ones at best. "Can you think of any way I could sway ya to make your plans more definite?" "I decided to allow you to buy me a drink." "I mean anythin' I could do right now." His effortless chuckling entangled her in his amusement. "Anythin' at all." His eyes twinkled like the stars beyond the confines of her austere place. "Meditate with me." "Meditate?" he echoed. "What's that like?" Her explanation was methodical, leaving nothing left for conjecture. She hadn't exaggerated about her ability to read him. By the transparent look on his face she knew meditation held small appeal for him. The disappointment she felt never made it to her face. "It helps me renew in order to gain stronger control over my emotions. I've neglected my practice for many weeks." "I like ya better when you're a little out of control..." His wink was harmless enough, or so he thought. "A little less sure of yourself looks good on ya." "Less sure of myself?" T'Pol nearly parroted, having said it with a distinct air of mystification. "That's when I get to see who you really are lots better, and I like seein' ya when the deck beneath your feet's quicksand." Nearly mumbling, he told her, "It's sexy." She wasn't sure how to respond. He wasn't exactly mocking her, she decided, but what -was- he doing? "I'm not baitin' ya, T'Pol. I'm hopin' for your openin' up. That's what I'd like, but I'm not gonna push. I was sorta hopin' you'd want to, seein' how we're on a first name basis and I know you have a mole shaped like a butterfly on your left hip." He touched the spot, pleased she didn't recoil. She was practically sitting in his lap, although unaware. "Trip..." Calling him that wasn't the absurdity she once thought it was, and its use had him eating out of her hand. His eyes came alive with responsive delight. "T'Pol?" Hesitating, without him any the wiser, she said, "Thank you..." Then she did hesitate, no masking in evidence. The power of the words holding sway, knowing that once she spoke them, the stage would be set. "For being my friend." His hand flattened itself against the silken smoothness of her belly; silk was her fabric without a doubt. Adoringly, he said, "Ya don't haveta thank me for -that,- either. The feelin' couldn't be more mutual. I hope we'll be friends for a very long time, providin' we live through the next couple of hours." "Your ability to un...settle me is innate," she uttered barely above a hushed whisper. Dealing with her feelings while being with him was an impossibility. It was as though she was merely along for the topsy- turvy ride. He stirred them, got them roiling with just the hint of his smile. "If I told ya you have the same effect on me, would you accuse me of gettin' emotional hopin' to pave the way for a relationship?" Trip angled. Flush with boyish charm, he divulged, "I like what you do to me too. I can't tell ya how many times you've made my day when ya pout and ya think nobody's watchin', but I've been..." Her slab of a belly twitched beneath his hand which reactivated his smile a thousand watts. "You've been the highlight of this mission since it began, and the topper bein' when you cemented those perfect lips of yours with mine." His cheeks burned as he recalled how she'd ignited both their passions. T'Pol gingerly fingered his left cheek which was closest, marveling over the increased warmth of his skin. With a wealth of feeling, she said, "You challenge my emotions, enliven them. Fascinate me." "You challenge me and my preconceptions." He lifted his hand to join his fingers with hers, then pressed the palm of T'Pol's hand to his cheek. "I wouldn't have missed knowin' ya for the world, any world you could name." Her hand trembled against his face. "You favor a romantic relationship between us?" Trip's forehead wrinkled. "Is that what's been eatin' ya alive? Whether or not we should get serious? My bein' a sexual experiment, nothin' more, notwithstandin'?" She couldn't answer because she had no idea what she wanted. Treating him as though what had been her idea was all his fault wasn't fair, she had no recourse but to admit. Trip deserved better than having cold water thrown in his face every time he tried reaching out. He was an honest man; he deserved honesty, hers, most of all. Where they stood in relation to each other perhaps boiled down to something she'd heard him say once: when push came to shove, push seemed ready, willing and able to shove, and shove hard. "'Cause if that's what's makin' ya feel like you're comin' apart at the seams, don't, T'Pol, please. What we've got works fine. No pressure. If there's one thing I've learned from failed relationships, it's what I told ya that night you melted me down...I'm easy. I've learned the hard way. I won't make anythin' tough for ya. If ya don't want anythin' to change between us, then that's how it'll be. I respect--aw, hell--I like ya too much to be a real pain in your ass, T'Pol. One thing's for sure, though...I'm flattered you wanted to experiment with me. I'll never forget how wonderful you are no matter how long I live." He was also someone she would be wrong not to trust. "I'd like ta be one of the best friends you ever have, T'Pol, attachin' no strings." As even she herself had taken into consideration, everyone had weathered some stressful times that might have broken a lesser crew. The extreme situations had taken its toll on everyone, as he had brought up. Her varied mood swings were understandable under the circumstances, despite her being so gallingly Vulcan. It wasn't hard to figure out why he'd shot down the gamut of ideas she'd contributed. Her prissy, keep your distance, piker, attitude had bugged him to no end. So much so that he'd had to say something, finally; enough was enough. Her treating him like crap had to stop. Had they shared intimacy, or had she roped and hog-tied him to her weird version of hand-to-hand combat when she'd finally admitted doing a great imitation of being jealous? He was glad he had spoken up; it had forced an apology out of her. Why, she'd even used 'Trip' to stop him cold from storming out on her in the midst of their project. "I know I said we could talk about it after this is all over, but what if we don't make it?" His eyebrows knitted together. "We could fail, ya know... Earth's inhabitants, and all of us could wind up dead." "We -will- succeed. The captain expects nothing less," T'Pol reminded him, while admiring his ability to accept the opposite outcome at the same time, seemingly coming to grips with the unacceptable. Telling him about her abuse of Trellium-D weighed heavy on her mind. Why did it bother her that she hadn't told him already? She still couldn't. "I sure hope so; dyin' would get in the way of so much. But just supposin' we don't make it. It'd be nice to know I'd gained your confidence enough so you could confide in me." He settled her more securely on his lap. "How 'bout bein' friends with benefits? See where it takes us?" "Friends with benefits? I don't--" "It means whenever we need each other, we'll be here for each other. You need me, I'm there; I need you..." "Your assistance would be invaluable to me, Trip." Giddy hearing her use his nickname so freely, he gushed, "I feel the same 'bout yours 'cause we care for each other and want to help any way we can." Not to alarm her, he delicately pecked the tip of her right ear. The urge to cuddle with her growing stronger. "Meditation, huh?" "You'll engage in it with me?" This time there was a distinctive, hopeful lilt in her tone. "Tell ya what...before we get into that, I have another idea. I'll bet the homestead you've never had one before." The swift slant of her eyebrow behooved him to end her suspicions. "A good ol' down home back rub, gal. You're tighter than a snare drum. Clothes aren't optional, which is the big difference compared with neuro-pressure. My momma raised us modest." "What does it entail?" "Touchin' a whole lot of touchin' to coax the kinks outta your stiff muscles." Touching...she liked it when he touched her, made her even more emotional...his touch was irritant and balm. "It'll make ya feel like a new woman, not that there's anythin' wrong with the beautiful one who knows what makes those damn spheres tick, through an' through. I figure, the better you feel, the better you keep me in line." Plinking his left earlobe with the nail of her forefinger, T'Pol, much to Trip's utter bemusement, timidly approached something akin to bantering by replying, "Agreed. The captain's depending on me, knowing the complexity of the task." "Yep, his shameless enablers, that's us all right..." Not giving it any thought, T'Pol filled his arms as though they had been made only for her. His right hand, being free, tenderly rubbed her back, up and down. The rich feel of the silk she wore to perfection, with each loving stroke, satisfied his desire of wanting to smooth out whatever remained that might be rough patches between them. Gradually, the tension in her back eased as T'Pol allowed herself to relax in Trip's blandishing embrace. The thought in her mind that predominated while it comforted was of her being home. His generous warmth enveloped her like the heat of the rolling plains typical of the Sarviikan hinterlands, one of her favorite haunts to meditate. She closed her eyes and saw those sprawling lands down to the minutest detail, and T'Pol smiled ever so faintly against Trip's broad shoulder. TBC [Non-text portions of this message have been removed] Yahoo! Domains - Claim yours for only $14.70 http://us.click.yahoo.com/Z1wmxD/DREIAA/yQLSAA/5x3olB/TM ---------------------------------------------------------------------~-> Yahoo! Groups Links <*> To visit your group on the web, go to: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ASCEM-S/ <*> To unsubscribe from this group, send an email to: ASCEM-S-unsubscribe@yahoogroups.com <*> Your use of Yahoo! Groups is subject to: http://docs.yahoo.com/info/terms/ From ???@??? Sun May 23 21:34:39 2004 X-Persona: Status: U Return-Path: Received: from n22.grp.scd.yahoo.com ([66.218.66.78]) by robin (EarthLink SMTP Server) with SMTP id 1bs10S7Mz3NZFjX0 for ; Sun, 23 May 2004 15:00:10 -0700 (PDT) X-eGroups-Return: sentto-1978024-8104-1085349609-stephenbratliff=earthlink.net@returns.groups.yahoo.com Received: from [66.218.67.195] by n7.grp.scd.yahoo.com with NNFMP; 30 May 2004 23:05:35 -0000 X-Sender: campbratcher@psci.net X-Apparently-To: ASCEM-S@yahoogroups.com Received: (qmail 55002 invoked from network); 30 May 2004 23:05:33 -0000 Received: from unknown (66.218.66.216) by m2.grp.scd.yahoo.com with QMQP; 30 May 2004 23:05:33 -0000 Received: from unknown (HELO mailstore.psci.net) (63.65.184.2) by mta1.grp.scd.yahoo.com with SMTP; 30 May 2004 23:05:32 -0000 Received: from max (as1-d1-rp-psci.psci.net [63.69.225.1]) by mailstore.psci.net (8.12.2/8.12.2) with SMTP id i4UN5DWT027740 for ; Sun, 30 May 2004 18:05:14 -0500 Message-ID: <000a01c4469a$a47d4ec0$01e1453f@max> To: "ASCEM-S" 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: Sun, 30 May 2004 18:05:46 -0500 Subject: [ASCEM-S] NEW ENT: Mood Swing - PG -13, (T/Tu), Part 23 Reply-To: "Keith & Jessica Bratcher" Content-Type: text/plain; charset=US-ASCII Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit X-ELNK-AV: 0 TITLE: Mood Swing - (23/?) AUTHOR: Sue E-MAIL: susieqla@yahoo.com SERIES: Enterprise PART: 23 RATING: PG-13 STATUS: WIP CODES: T/Tu CATEGORY: Angst/Humor/Romance SPOILERS: Zero Hour ARCHIVE: Yes, all archives are fine, no permission necessary. DISCLAIMER: Enterprise is the property of Paramount and its subsidiaries. No profit is being made. SUMMARY: Missing scene Mood Swing - Part 23 His heart thrummed, and still unable to turn away, Trip stood his ground. His hand shook nearly uncontrollably. It was as though he were falling down a very deep hole, no bottom in sight. There were no monsters, no tangible ones, at any rate, and yet, there very well could have been. It had all come down to this... No word from their captain, and the majority of the crew wore the telltale eruptions of dermis, symptomatic of exposure to the form of pernicious contamination they'd been exposed to. He ordered that his hand stop shaking, both hands still bore the cracks that parched ground in the Mojave Desert was certainly no stranger to, and after what passed for a flash of time, it did. All the while, he kept his gaze riveted on T'Pol. She reminded him to be patient; like throwing oil on disturbed water, her advice floated until he paused to absorb the soothing effect of her presence. With her hand gripped on his shoulder, she calmly reined him in before his letting impulsivity command the driver's seat. She was magnificent when she was like this...frank and open as all get-out. What he hastily concluded as most likely being the end for them, might just be the beginning he yearned for. Staring him in the face, there she was...caring about how he felt, her sensing his helplessness that refused to let up. If he hadn't known any better he might've sworn she had feelings for him. Maybe...just possibly he'd transcended her designation of 'experiment.' Increasingly, he found it impossible to think otherwise. It was disturbing that her skin wasn't healing as quickly as his. Was something hindering her skin's regeneration? Or maybe human skin just healed quicker. Telling her it was possible Vulcans weren't as tough after all was said in jest, but her voice was charged with emotion when she said Phlox told her everybody should be back to normal in two to three days. Where that crack about her looking like an old oil painting came from, he'd never know. One thing was gospel, though she did look nice, even with her skin looking like a 'gator's worse nightmare, Trip thought. Their gazes held, without flinching. T'Pol wilted, something akin to melting into him, able to accept the comfort of his touch, his hands...his lips, if he decided to kiss her at that moment. Would he? From somewhere, she remembered having heard it said that a gentleman never asked a lady her age. If standing on technicality mattered, he hadn't asked, she'd told. No, she -wasn't- old, and she had to set him straight on that. Sixty- six her next birthday...why she'd hardly begun to live...sixty-six, - old- indeed. But that wasn't what he'd meant. Even more importantly though, was why she felt it imperative that he know, now. Trip's lips quirked, but a smile never quite happened. "Intimate? Hmm..." Then he winced. ::"Bridge to T'Pol":: There never seemed to be an end to this bad timing--interrupted again by that damn comm! Okay, granted, they were smack-dab in the middle of a crisis situation laced with cryptic overtones, but still. He felt what he had to say building inside of him, had been over the course of these turbulent weeks. T'Pol looked as if she'd been on the verge of confessing all sorts of personal things about herself. Well, if benevolence, which had been partly responsible for maximum firepower that had granted them success, kept favoring them, there'd be time enough for opening up on all levels. There was something he'd been meaning to tell her for the longest. "Go ahead." ::"A vortex just opened. It's Degra's ship":: 'And I -did not- call her old,' Trip reiterated while he mused, watching her attend to the comm with the undivided attention she reserved for 'official business.' 'Old? For a Vulcan she's a pretty young thing. Very pretty, and very young when it comes to the thing we've started, well she, actually, but I didn't stop her. I'm her first, and there's no going back from that now. I don't wanna go back, I'd like it to be forward for us, all the way.' Once the comm fell silent, a pin drop could have been heard. Trip exchanged a preemptive nod with T'Pol and they moved off in tandem. She, with all the authority peculiar to being first in command, and with a good measure of hope as well, said, "Degra's ship..." "Can't wait to swap good news with the cap'n..." The bad news about Archer was too much to bear. "It's just a matter of time..." That's what Dr. Phlox had said it would take for Porthos to get over his loss, but when she'd repeated the phrase to the dog, even astounding herself by touching its head, T'Pol hadn't only been consoling the pet. The effort had been made to assure herself that her acute feeling of loss concerning Archer wouldn't be so painful, as it felt now. She knew what it meant to be grief-stricken, her liberated emotions made sure of that. Grief had to lessen, over time, all these raw, negative feelings just had to, or she'd be no good to anyone. One thing was certain, her empathy for Trip had profounder depth. She was experiencing firsthand how he'd felt over the death of his sister. The mental anguish was stultifying, as crippling as an acutal physical impairment could be. Death was the truest of any enemy imaginable. Jonathan had been her friend too. Archer's friendship had differed from Trip's, and T'Pol was at a loss to exactly understand why. Perhaps, with the passage of time, she'd reason the quandries out for herself. But, in the meantime, in the here and the now, whatever this here and now purported to be, she was in commmand. The crew was counting on her to get them through this, their current, most mind-boggling, perception-altering dilemma, to date. Starfleet non existent? How was that possible? How did they wind up in Earth's 20th century? What accounted for it? Was it the 20th century of documented, recorded history, or some parallel alternative? What was it going to take to transport them back to the correct time continuum? When she racked her brain over these things, her head would start to hurt. Everything depended on her having the right answers. How glad she was, how reassuring it was to know that relying on Trip wasn't an exercise in futility. With each day that never failed to be more problematic than the one previous, he proved to her time and again that having him as her friend was something she'd never regret. "The database contained limited information on the aircraft you encountered over San Francisco's airspace," T'Pol said as she set the mug of steaming herbal tea, 'Morning Thunder," before Trip. It was five past 0600. The mess hall was all but empty, save for them and a few other early risers. Two ensigns were already heading out. "I'd know those planes anywhere," Trip adamantly declared, thanking her for getting him the tea, and half wondering if he was going to like it. His trying it was -her- idea. She was of the opinion that he was consuming much too much coffee, and the over consumption of caffeine seemed to pave the way for insomnia for him. "I built models when I was a kid. P-fifty-one Mustangs, circa nineteen forty-four. Their bubble canopies really made 'em stand out. Gave 'em distinction." He folded his arms over his chest and leaned back in his seat. "No mistakin' 'em for what strafed Travis an' me that first time, and every attempt we've made to visit the surface." He stared into the contents of the mug, liking the way the slip of steam rose, curling as it did. "It's weird scans can't pinpoint a point of origin." "I'd like you and Mister Mayweather to visit the surface again." T'Pol finished raising her cup to her mouth, blew into it before taking a sip. "Yeah, we can do that, provided we make the trip after nightfall. For, or no fog, Travis pilots on instinct as much as relying on sensors. I think he'd have no problem gettin' us in under cover of darkness, without runnin' the risk of bein' shot at like all the times we've tried in broad daylight." "I agree." "It's worth a try, nosin' around where Starfleet's supposed to be, but where those planes have routinely picked us up before we can get close enough. On our last attempt to land, we could almost make out the city's skyline. The buildin's are modern, not architectural design of the forties. The planes' insignias don't jive with U.S. aircraft for the period." Trip steepled his fingers, picking at a frayed cuticle before doing so. "It'd probably be a good idea if a MACO came along." T'Pol raised an eyebrow. "Any MACO in particular?" "First Lieutenant Magnuson. He specializes in reconnaissance, accordin' to Malcolm." Her voice warbling, T'Pol replied, "Oh?" "What?" "Nothing." "Who'd ya think I was gonna say?" Trip asked, having a good suspicion who. Reading her was getting to be as easy as pie: pecan, apple, pumpkin...any old pie would do as long as it tasted great. T'Pol shifted imperceptively in her seat, as though she were in a hot one. "I don't know what you seem to be imply--" "You thought I was gonna say Amanda, didn't ya?" Trip said confirmatorily, watching her with an amused look on his face. "She never entered my mind..." Trip relaxed his jaw. "You're sure 'bout that?" "Positive." "'Cause, ya know, if she had...she would've been squattin', bein' somewhere she doesn't belong." Trip reached across the table with both hands to secure T'Pol's within their clasp. "You've spoiled me for anybody else. And why in the world are ya sittin' way over there?" He tugged on her hands. Come join me on my side of the table." He waited, wondering if she could handle such an obvious invitation. He didn't have long to wait. Once she was sitting next to him, T'Pol wrapped her arms around Trip's neck while he gently began nibbling away on the bottom of her earlobe. "I missed ya last night, missed the cuddlin' before fallin' asleep." T'Pol held on, and when he informed her that he, "Liked his lovin' sweet," she, in turn, asked if he considered her to be such. His swift reply was heartfelt, ardent and to the point: "Darlin', compared to you, pecan pie's sugar free." It wasn't an official PDA. (Trip hated seeing couples get carried away in public. T'Pol had no idea what a PDA even was.) They had the mess hall all to themselves and they made the most of it. TBC...and come the start of Season 4, we're off and running again! Happy hiatus, everybody! [Non-text portions of this message have been removed] Make a clean sweep of pop-up ads. Yahoo! Companion Toolbar. Now with Pop-Up Blocker. Get it for free! http://us.click.yahoo.com/L5YrjA/eSIIAA/yQLSAA/5x3olB/TM --------------------------------------------------------------------~-> 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 ???@??? Sun May 30 21:45:53 2004 X-Persona: Status: U Return-Path: Received: from n10.grp.scd.yahoo.com ([66.218.66.65]) by quail (EarthLink SMTP Server) with SMTP id 1buznh2kM3NZFkZ0 for ; Sun, 30 May 2004 16:05:51 -0700 (PDT) X-eGroups-Return: sentto-1978024-8125-1085958350-stephenbratliff=earthlink.net@returns.groups.yahoo.com