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"The Forgotten Time"
Rating: R Chapter 8 T’Pol was riveted by Charles’ distressed gaze. After what seemed liked ages, she quietly echoed, “You?” Charles didn’t answer. He stood and retrieved the middle photograph from the side table. Taking a seat nearer T’Pol, he handed it across. T’Pol gripped the cool, heavy wooden frame as if holding onto the doorframe of her reality. Having only glanced at the photograph before, she now examined it more closely. The scene it contained was coloured a brilliant crimson ochre—the natural orange red desert sands of Vulcan. And in the foreground, like a jewel against the fiery backdrop, existed a scene bizarre and dreamlike. T’Pol looked into her alternate self’s eyes and saw true happiness shining there. And a peaceful smile, faint but undeniable, lifting her features. Next to her sat Trip, a laughy smile lighting his face too. Their arms were loosely wrapped around one another, the intimacy of best friends and lovers. Charles’ voice gently cut the silence. “Our honeymoon.” At that, T’Pol looked up. “Vulcans don’t have honeymoons,” she said automatically. Charles returned her gaze intently. “Well we did. You loved it. It was….” His eyes dropped as his voice caught. He swallowed and finished softly, “Well, it was the best two weeks of my life.” T’Pol was bewildered by the quiet echo of Charles’ emotions overlaying Trip’s in the back of her mind. Trip cleared his throat audibly. Charles looked over at his younger self and met his eye. He sighed and shook his head. “Yeah, I know. It’s weird. I’m sorry.” Trip who had been feeling the tiniest bit envious, was taken aback at his double’s candid statement. He warmed to him a little as he replied, “Uh, no, actually. You’re doin’ pretty well considerin’.” “Thanks,” Charles laughed mirthlessly. Silence fell over the room as each contemplated their private thoughts. Charles rose from his seat and paced to the window. After a moment, he asked without turning around, “T’Pol, why is it that I know you wish you had some ‘kreyla’ to go with your tea? I don’t even know what ‘kreyla’ is.” His voice was strangely light, conversational. T’Pol put her teacup down. “Kreyla are Vulcan biscuits. My foremother used to make them for me.” Charles turned and sat against the window sill. “That doesn’t’t answer my question.” Trip could sense T’Pol’s discomfort over discussing the intimate mind meld she had shared with him and cut in. “The temporal field dampens Vulcan emotional controls,” he clarified briefly, “T’Pol and I had to create a telepathic link between us to combat the effects.” T’Pol felt a wave of gratitude wash over her at Trip’s quick explanation and omission of certain embarrassing details. However, both Trip and Charles could sense her relief and reticence and were aware of their source. T’Pol felt embarrassment redden her cheeks, until Charles crossed the room to sit next to her on the sofa. He glanced frankly at Trip and then turned to her and said quietly, “T’Pol. Y’don’t have to worry about hidin’ stuff from me. You were my wife. I already know about the Trellium. Y’told me. And I don’t care. I loved you for a hell of a lot longer than I ever let on, and there is nothing you can do, in any timeline, that’s going to set me against you.” T’Pol met his gaze evenly, and now composed, she thanked him in her low voice for his understanding. Charles let his gaze linger on her face for a second longer before changing the subject abruptly. “So. What are we lookin’ at here?” Trip, caught off-guard, gave his double a blank look. “With Daniels,” Charles clarified. Trip recollected the reason they were there and cleared his throat audibly. “Yes, right. Uh, we need you to get us into the dry-dock. It’s Enterprise.” Charles looked concerned. “Something the matter with the refit?” T’Pol spoke. “No. It’s sabotage. A bomb has been planted.” Charles digested this for a moment. “By who?” But the answer flowed into his mind before either of the others spoke aloud. The Xindi. *** Trip leaned back against the rough bark of the tree trunk he was sitting against. Charles had asked them to lose themselves for the couple of hours it would take him to clear Engineering at the dry-dock. The three of them could hardly work on the engines together with the regular staff about, considering one of them looked like Charles’ identical twin and the other was a high-profile assassination victim. Trip had suggested they spend the time in the park. After being cooped up on the tiny shuttle for the last few days, he was craving some open space. They had spread a blanket on the grass under a lawn of spreading trees. T’Pol was fast asleep in the sun, an unconscious arm flung across her face to shield her eyes from the hot, bright light. The early morning mist had burned off, and the day promised to be glorious. Trip wished he could enjoy it more, but he found himself preoccupied with the mission ahead instead. After some time spent brooding, Trip was distracted by T’Pol turning in her sleep to lie on her side. Trip reached out and stroked her hair, hot from the sunshine. Golden light lay in pools in the hollows of her cheeks. He squinted against the bright sun and marvelled at her peaceful sleep. She was clearly exhausted from the strain of the past few days, but he admired her strength more than ever. Her face was serene now as she slept, her exquisite features setting Trip’s heart skipping. Her beauty never failed to startle him whenever he became conscious of it. As his hand rested against T’Pol’s warm hair, he felt his stomach suddenly flop at the thought of losing her as Charles had. Though the guy was supposedly his future self, he didn’t see how he could manage to watch his wife die in front of him like that and still get up every day. His wife? He should be so lucky. The thought caught him unawares. Though he had realised the depth and gravity of his feelings for T’Pol, he hadn’t looked ahead to the next logical step yet. Marriage was something his family had taught him to take very seriously. And he felt very serious about it in this case. Seriously euphoric. T’Pol opened her eyes to find Trip smiling gently down at her, his hand tangled in her hair. She could still sense the exhilaration that had awakened her pouring through him, leaving her slightly breathless. She remained motionless, but whispered, “What is it?” Trip looked into her dusky eyes for a long minute, and then he spoke simply: “T’Pol, I want to marry you.” The compulsive strength of her instant internal assent nearly bowled both of them over. As they spent more time in the temporal field, T’Pol’s emotions were becoming incredibly distilled and potent. However, the meld’s power was increasing apace and allowing them to share thoughts more clearly than even she had imagined possible. T’Pol considered for a brief instant what life with this man would be: maddeningly illogical; deliciously irresistible. Perfect communion of sentiment existed for a shining second as T’Pol basked in the adoring gaze of her lover. She controlled her voice admirably, but her wobbly smile gave her away completely as she replied, “Then I can see only one logical course of action.” Trip ruffled her hair. “What’s that?” he asked blissfully. “A wedding,” she answered. *** They wandered through the nearly empty park, avoiding eye contact with any passers-by. Trip stopped to buy chocolate ice cream from a young woman with a pushcart. He handed the cone to T’Pol, saying mischievously, “Happy birthday.” T’Pol took an experimental lick and pronounced it “not unpalatable”, to which Trip threw his head back and laughed. The communicator beeped quietly, interrupting the moment. Charles’ voice asked them to meet him outside his apartment. They both sobered instantly. All other issues aside, this was why they were here. It was time to get this mission over with. T’Pol took Trip’s hand as they left the park and turned back toward Charles’ home. They walked in silence, but held a subdued conversation via the now-practiced link that still bound their minds as strongly as ever. Y’know, Charles didn’t really fill us in on the details of how we… how they…ended up together in this timeline. Trip mused. It seems to be a difficult topic for him. T’Pol concurred, However, I picked up a few stray memories when he was discussing it. It seems my mother…approves of you. Trip glanced over at T’Pol. Her brow was furrowed somewhat in perplexity at the thought. He laughed aloud and answered back: You sound surprised. I am surprised. Mother can be…formidable. Trip considered this. What...what does she know about me? A pause. About us? T’Pol was evasive: I've—never mentioned you. They had reached Charles’ apartment. Trip came around to face T’Pol and picked up both her hands in his. And what would you tell her now? T’Pol stared into her best friend’s eyes, momentarily lost in another swirl of unexpected emotion. Now. Now… I would tell her I intend to marry the man I love. Trip lifted a finger to stroke her cheek. His next words were tinged with unbelievable sorrow. But you won’t. Because tomorrow you’re going to forget all about me. I’m going to lose you just like Charles did, only I won’t even know I had you. And worse, you won’t remember that you ever loved me… or that you could even love at all. At least he has two weeks of beautiful memories, and y’know, in a way I envy him that. T’Pol’s heart began to pound quietly in her chest and a faint emerald flush crept over her cheeks. Trip… Her thoughts were thick and powerful inside their minds. Even if I never recall a second of this experience, Daniels won’t be able to make me forget I ever loved you. Trip found it hard to catch his breath as he squeezed her hands. Why not? T’Pol regarded him for a moment and then stretched up to lightly kiss his lips. As the kiss intensified and Trip’s arms came around her waist, T’Pol sent a thought silently and fiercely into his mind: Trip, I fell in love with you a long time ago. I just didn’t know what to call it until we came on this mission. She recalled for him the subtle passion of their neuropressure sessions and revealed the nature of the feelings that the Trellium had released within her. Unmistakably, they were the disturbed and powerful sensations of unexpressed adoration for the man whose body she was now pressed hungrily against. After another moment, they broke apart, mutual joy and despair chasing through their thoughts at the inevitability of their feelings and situation. The door behind them opened and Charles stepped outside. He locked the door and then turned to face them. They dropped each others hands, suddenly self conscious. Charles’ mouth twisted into a wry grin. “Don’t be doin’ that because of me. I mean… this probably sounds weird, but#—I’m happy for you guys.” His voice was bleak, but they could sense his thoughts firmly supporting his statement. “I mean, I don’t wanna pry or anythin’, but it’s kinda ‘hard to miss’, y’know, what with the telepathy and all.” The three of them started to walk back toward Starfleet along the causeway. After a moment, Charles spoke up again. “How long has this been going on anyway? I don’t remember anything happening between us before our trip to Vulcan.” T’Pol hesitated a fraction of an instant before replying, “It has been three days. Only since the mission began.” “And it’ll be about one day more before both the relationship and the mission come to an abrupt end,” muttered Trip somewhat peevishly. Charles frowned. “What’re you talkin’ about?” Trip dolefully explained the nature of the assignment along with its requisite memory wipe. Charles absorbed the information silently. And though the other two tried to avoid noticing, all three were aware of Charles’ sudden depressed revelation that they seemed to be cursed in every universe. No one else spoke for the fifteen minutes it took to reach Starfleet. Charles had arranged a discreet transport off the surface to the dry-dock in orbit. Trip and T’Pol boarded the tiny craft swiftly and furtively. They reached the orbiting dry-dock in a matter of minutes. Enterprise and the Vulcan ship Teresh-Kah both hung suspended among the dozens of conduits attaching them to the dock. Charles navigated the small craft among the spidery arms and aligned the shuttle with one of Enterprise’s many airlocks. “I gave the team the weekend off, so there shouldn’t be anyone around to bother us,” Charles said as he powered down. “How long do you think this is going to take?” “We’ll see,” Trip replied. “T’Pol and I have gone over Daniels’ specs and it seems relatively straightforward, but I’ve never done anything like this before. Kinda wish Malcolm was along for the trip. He’s the bomb expert.” A thought occurred to him. “Say, how’s Mal doin’ anyway?” “Same as usual,” Charles responded as he powered down the shuttlecraft. “Got himself engaged though.” “Malcolm? Reed?” Trip demanded, “To who?” A grin briefly lighted Charles’ face at Trip’s shock and in anticipation of his next reaction. “Corporal Cole.” At this, Trip’s jaw dropped slightly, and awestruck, he sat mutely contemplating the implications of this piece of astonishing intelligence. T’Pol experienced a brief reflexive surge of jealousy as she picked up Trip’s unconscious memories of his short-lived neuropressure sessions with Amanda. Both Trip and Charles caught the sentiment and grinned at T’Pol’s discomfited expression. Trip broke the silence. “Maybe we shouldn’t ask too many questions about the future. I know Daniels is wiping our memories and all, so it doesn’t really matter. But any universe that’s got Malcolm Reed asking Amanda Cole to marry him is just a bit overwhelming.” Charles laughed out loud at this and added, “Actually she asked him. Put it on the big screen at the Super Bowl. Mal nearly wet himself.” Trip put a hand up. “Stop. I can’t take any more.” He gathered up his case of equipment and made for the hatch. He stepped out into the familiar corridor of Enterprise. They were only two turns away from Engineering. Charles had chosen this airlock to minimise the chance they’d run into a stray crewmember. Trip bent to pull a sock up that had become bunched irritatingly in his boot. As he did so, a voice cut across the silence of the ship. “Charles! Just the man I was looking for.” Trip looked up to see Captain Archer standing there with a PADD in his hand. His stomach sank. Shit. Trip straightened up and glanced back anxiously at the airlock. “Cap’n…I’m not…I mean I’m….” He sighed. “What can I do for you?” he finally managed, while mentally shouting at the other two, Stay in there. The damn captain’s onboard. He thinks I’m Charles. He could feel their sudden concern and uncertainty at this development. “I need to go over some of these Engineering specs with you, do you have a second?” the captain asked, waving his PADD, oblivious to Trip’s agitation. “Uh, sure.” He wants me to go over Engineering stuff with him! Charles, switch places with me…I‘ll say I have to get something from the shuttle. You are wearing different clothes. The captain would notice the change. This from T’Pol. You’ll have to do the best you can without alerting him to the situation. Daniels did not intend for Captain Archer to be involved. “Charles?” the captain asked gently. His friend was staring blankly at the floor. “Huh?” Trip’s head came up swiftly. “Yeah.” He swallowed. “I have a minute.” He started towards Engineering with the captain alongside. Archer looked sidewise at his chief engineer in concern. Ever since he’d gone off to Vulcan and married T’Pol and then lost her practically the same week, he’d never been the same. None of them had, really. But Trip had mislaid a piece of his soul that day, changed his name to Charles, and spent the next year burying himself in his work. True, he had produced some of the most brilliant engineering of his career, but at what cost? Archer reflected that he had lost two friends to that sniper. They entered Engineering. It was deserted at least, Trip was thankful for that. He looked round in amazement at the changes Charles had wrought in such short time. He barely recognised the warp drive, so augmented was it with modules and extra power conduits. A surge of excitement flowed through his veins; the engineer within him couldn’t wait to get his hands dirty and explore every new addition to his engines. But the captain yanked him out of his reverie in short order. “Okay Charles, here’s my concern.” Archer flicked through several screens on the PADD to arrive at a new diagram of the EPS conduit system. “Last week you mentioned that with the new high-speed engines, we’re going to be drawing exponentially more power while travelling at speeds over 7.65. Now, which of the tactical systems do you predict….” As the captain continued, Trip nodded along, trying to appear conversant with the points he raised while thinking furiously of a way out of the mess he found himself in. *** Back onboard the shuttle there was an awkward silence. Both occupants could dimly feel the harassed state of Trip’s mental environment as he tried to maintain his ‘Charles’ persona for the captain’s benefit in Engineering. Finally, Charles spoke. “How do you think he’s doin’?” T’Pol glanced up sharply at the sound of his voice. Charles’ eyes were fixed on her. “You have a lot of faith in him.” T’Pol met Charles’ steady gaze. “I have a lot of faith in you both. And it is well-merited.” Charles let his eyes fall to the carpet. “It’s misplaced in my case. Like I said before, I’m not the same guy as the one squirmin’ up there in Engineering right now.” T’Pol moved to sit next to him. “You are doing remarkably well considering what you’ve been through—” she started, but at this Charles stood up violently and cut across her words. “No, I’m not doin’ well! Why’s everyone always tellin’ me that?” he shouted at the ceiling. He took a few steps, as far as he could go within the confines of the tiny ship. After a moment, he sighed quietly and came back to where T’Pol was waiting patiently. He sat. She could feel him trying to organize his thoughts enough to express himself. “When you…when she…died…I lost something, T’Pol. I mean it when I say I’m not the same. You two have no idea—what you have. You’ve got to make it work. You’ve got to convince Daniels…do something…” he trailed off. T’Pol’s heart ached with his misery before he managed to push it down into the habitual ball of dull pain he carried in the pit of his stomach. As his emotions lifted away, her own wretchedness was distilled clearly into the air. Charles looked up at this and put a wondering hand to his head. T’Pol caught a stray thought of his as it passed: The marriage bond was never this strong. “Marriage bond?” she asked aloud. Charles, still unused to the meld, seemed surprised for a second and then nodded and answered. “When T’Saru, the priest, performed the marriage ceremony on Vulcan, we were bonded telepathically.” T‘Pol digested this. “I had not realised that humans and Vulcans were compatible enough to successfully form a genuine marriage bond. However, it is becoming clear to me from the strength of this meld that we are more well-matched than I had originally assumed.” Charles’ expression softened as he contemplated the face of the woman he thought he would never set eyes upon again in this life. Tenderly, he spoke, “We were extremely ‘well-matched’…” his voice caught and then roughened. He went on in a rush, “God, T’Pol you’re even more beautiful than I remembered.” T’Pol gasped at the strength of his impulsive revelation, but suddenly both of their heads whipped around as they sensed Trip’s abrupt distress emanating from Engineering. His conversation with the captain wasn’t going well. *** For the first few minutes, Trip thought he would pull it off. The captain’s questions were general and related to power consumption and tactical readiness. Trip’s study of Daniels’ provided schematics had given him enough background information that he managed to reply glibly enough to the captain’s inquiries. Soon, however, Archer moved into more dangerous territory. He began asking about the planned upgrades for the coming weeks. As it didn’t pertain to the mission at hand, Daniels had not provided any data respecting the future improvements beyond the present. Trip’s answers became sketchier and less fluent as the tête-à-tête wore on. Suddenly the captain changed the subject. “You know Charles, I was talking to Hoshi yesterday, and she thinks it would be a good idea for us three to have dinner this week.” Trip was somewhat thrown by this abrupt change of subject, but tried to sustain his feigned composure as he replied, “Oh yeah? That sounds nice.” The captain looked down again at the PADD he held and casually scrolled through the screen he was viewing. Without glancing up, he spoke again. “Of course, Hoshi has been studying undercover for the last six weeks on that pre-warp planet we encountered last year and will be there for another month at least.” Archer’s voice was nonchalant, as if merely discussing the weather. He looked up to meet Trip’s dismayed face. “And Charles Tucker knows that.” The captain put the PADD down, folded his arms and continued, his voice taking on a hardened edge. “So the question is, do you want to tell me who you are and what the hell you’re doing on my ship, or should I just call security immediately?” “Cap’n, I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about—” Archer’s hand went to the comm panel, and Trip hastily continued. “Okay, okay. Fine. Y’got me, all right?” The captain’s eyes narrowed. “Silik?” Trip rubbed his hands over his face, exasperated. “No! I can see why you’d think that, Cap’n, but it’s me, it’s Trip.” Archer wasn’t buying it. “Yes, but you see, ‘Trip’ goes by ‘Charles’ now. You haven’t really done your homework have you?” Time was running out. If the captain apprehended him, they’d never get it sorted in time to finish the mission: Earth would be doomed. Trip was starting to feel frantic. “Captain. Jon. It’s me. I’m working with Daniels. I’m not your Charles, but I came here with T’Pol to avert a disaster. The Xindi have sabotaged Enterprise. You’ve gotta believe me.” “And if I don’t?” “Earth will be destroyed.” Trip and Archer both spun around to find T’Pol in the doorway, with Charles just behind her. Archer stared uncomprehendingly as his deceased friend and first officer walked toward him followed by an exact copy of the man he had been speaking to for the last ten minutes. Charles spoke up before the captain could say anything. “It’s true Cap’n. Their story checks out.” Archer stared at T’Pol for a full five seconds more before finally wrenching his gaze off her to focus on the new Tucker he found himself facing. Closing his eyes, taking a deep breath, and regretting he’d come into the office today, Archer beckoned Charles over into a corner out of earshot. He sized his chief engineer up, trying to ascertain whether or not he was really who he appeared to be. Charles could perceive the captain’s distrust, and pulled his sleeve up to show him the scar that was all that was left of the extensive skin regeneration Phlox had performed after he and T’Pol were attacked. “Captain, I know this is bizarre, but it really is me. Remember last week at your house when you showed me your latest clipper ship model? It was The Bluenose. You broke the rigging six times putting it together.” Archer nodded slowly, satisfied. But he asked in an undertone that the others couldn’t pick up, “How do you know that they are who they say they are?” Charles wondered how he could explain. He finally just came right out with it. “Uh, actually, the three of us are telepathically linked right now. A mind meld.” At Archer’s incredulous look, he sighed wearily. “It’s a long story.” “He’s telling’ the truth Cap’n,” Trip called from across the room, “and we’re runnin’ out of time.” Charles and Archer had been speaking barely above a whisper. There was no way Trip could have overheard the conversation. The captain resigned himself in the face of the evidence. He and Charles exchanged a glance, and the two of them walked back over to where Trip and T’Pol were waiting. Captain Archer faced his two time-travelling colleagues and lifted his chin. He shook hands with each, his eyes lingering again on T’Pol’s face. “I’m sorry I distrusted you,” he apologized. “It was understandable,” T’Pol reassured him. Archer nodded and then regained his sense of composure. “Mind filling me in?” Since it was pointless to keep him in the dark now that he had discovered them, they quickly gave him the pertinent details. Finally, they were ready to begin the tricky operation of actually defusing the explosive. It had been placed deep within the new EPS system. After an hour, Trip and Charles had removed enough of the infrastructure to allow access to the area. Charles looked around at the mess they’d made of his usually impeccable Engineering and heaved a sigh. The team is going to kill me on Monday. They’ll think I went loony in here over the weekend, he said mentally. The other two laughed out loud at this, causing Archer to stare in frank disbelief at the sudden seemingly unprompted outburst. And T’Pol… laughing? Now he’d seen absolutely everything. Still smiling, T’Pol went and retrieved the 33rd-century scanner from Daniels’ case of equipment. Activating it caused a faint wash of crimson light to emanate from one end. She swept it slowly over the area in question to reveal the alien technology squatting on one of the EPS conduits. “I didn’t really believe it till now,” said Charles in a voice subdued by disquiet, as the four of them surveyed the trans-duodynetic particle converter that had been silently hiding within their ship. “Kinda makes you wonder what other invisible time bombs we’ve got tucked in here.” T’Pol raised an eyebrow. “That kind of thinking will only serve to make you paranoid.” “You’re probably right,” Charles acceded, “but with stuff like this around, a little paranoia wouldn’t be entirely misplaced.” Nobody disagreed with him. Trip consulted Daniels’ PADD again as he picked up the first device required in the disarming sequence. *** Fifty minutes later, they were nearing the last of the steps. Trip and Charles were performing the disarm, with Archer and T’Pol assisting them. It was bizarre to watch the two identical Tuckers: hardly speaking and simply relying on the mental connection they shared through T’Pol, they performed almost as one man. Archer felt a bit out of things as one of the other three would respond aloud to some inner prompting, but he tried not to let it show. Mostly, as he worked, he simply enjoyed the fleeting presence of a few of his finest friends. He knew he was being given a rare, and most likely last, opportunity to speak to T’Pol again. And seeing Charles in the presence of his beloved was like travelling in time himself to a better era… his friend was alive, animated again in a way he hadn’t seen since the tragedy. Abruptly, Archer was pulled out of his musings by a simultaneous “shit” from the two Tuckers. “What is it?” Archer asked, voice edgy. The particle converter was flashing red and blue. Trip answered. “Something’s gone wrong. It’s set to detonate.” He flipped frantically through the screens of Daniels’ PADD, checking and rechecking the steps. “This is 33rd-century technology,” T’Pol spoke up, “Two hundred years ahead of Daniels’ time. He may have made an error in his instructions.” “He must have,” Charles affirmed. “We did everything exactly by the book.” He scanned the converter again. “I reckon we’ve got less than eleven minutes before this thing goes off.” Trip was searching the data for anything that would help them deactivate the arming sequence. Archer, unable to offer any suggestions, simply waited, tense, for one of his chief engineers to pull a miracle out of his hat. Charles stood up slowly. Trip glanced up at him wildly and then back at his work. He was trying every sequence he could think of to get the thing to power down, but none were having any effect. He gave Charles another fleeting look and demanded, “Get down here and help me with this thing! If it goes off, the whole quadrant’s done for!” Charles simply stood stock still, examining the floor in front of him for another moment, before he rapidly and decisively set into action. Pushing Trip aside, he picked up a hyperspanner and began undoing the clamps that held the device to the EPS conduit. “What are you doing?” Trip shouted, “That’s not going to help anything. We still have to disarm it!” “We’re not going to figure it out in time,” Charles said quietly. He freed the device, and cradling it carefully, began to walk toward the double doors. They hissed open to allow him to pass into the corridor. The other three followed uncomprehendingly in his wake. T’Pol suddenly sensed Charles’ plan. Her heart jumped into her throat and she ran ahead to block his path just in time to prevent him entering the airlock to the shuttle. He stopped, holding the bomb gently to his chest. “I won’t let you do this,” T’Pol stated both mentally and aloud, her voice hoarse, her thoughts staunch and unyielding. Charles looked into the wild eyes of the woman he loved more than life, and smiled tenderly. “T’Pol. Think. There is absolutely no other way.” T’Pol’s face hardened momentarily and then wilted as she came to the same realisation that he, and now Trip, had. Tears instantly welled and slid down her cheeks. Charles deftly switched the bomb to his left arm and used his right hand to gently wipe the salt drops from her cheeks, but more followed. “Darlin’, don’t cry,” Charles said soothingly. “I’ve been eaten up inside for a year ‘cause I couldn’t save your life. It should’ve been me. Damned if I’m gonna let it happen twice.” T’Pol blocked his path for a moment more and then, finding every other option arising in her mind thwarted by the reality of what must be, she stepped up to him, put her hand swiftly on the back of his neck and pulled him to her for a quick, intense kiss. Charles eyes filled with wonder and tears simultaneously. He smiled down at her and whispered, “I couldn’t have asked for a better going away present.” T’Pol nodded, mouth trembling, and stepped aside to let him pass. The airlock slid shut behind him. A few seconds later, they heard the faint clank of the shuttle disengaging from Enterprise’s hull. “Would one of you mind telling me what’s going on?” Archer asked, bewildered. The three of them started back toward Engineering, and Trip explained to Archer the plan he and T’Pol had seen in Charles’ mind. “He’s goin’ to fly it into the sun.” “He’s going to what?” Archer demanded. They re-entered Engineering, and Trip pulled up a view of the shuttle on course for the centre of the solar system. “The core of the sun is 15 million degrees Celsius,” Trip explained wearily, leaning on the desk with his eyes closed. “If he can make it there before the bomb detonates, there is a chance it will simply atomize the device, rendering it harmless.” T’Pol was weeping silently. He put an arm around her and held her close. “But why didn’t he just put it on autopilot?” Archer asked, anguished, as he watched the shuttle speeding its way to the deadly hot star. “There wasn’t enough time,” T’Pol whispered. “It takes eight minutes to get to the sun at the shuttle’s top speed. Deactivating the fail-safes on the autopilot program would have taken too long. He’ll have to do it en route.” The comm beeped. It was Charles. Archer activated the connection and Charles’ face replaced the shuttle on the screen. Charles regarded his captain, his alternate self, and his sometime wife. His features were contented. “This is gonna work guys,” he reassured them serenely. His eyes shifted to T’Pol and Trip. “Can we have a minute?” Archer nodded bleakly once and moved across the room. Charles sized up the couple before him, heart warm at the site of himself next to the woman he belonged with. He leaned in close and looked Trip straight in the eye. “You’re an engineer. You’re a guy who figures things out. You find some way to get ahold of that stubborn Vulcan, and once you do, you find some way to keep ahold of her, you hear me? By the time you’re me, you better have done something about it. If you don’t, I’m gonna kick your ass, you hear me?” Despite the grief they both felt at Charles’ sacrifice, they each managed a sad smile as they exchanged a glance. Taking T’Pol’s hand, Trip looked back into his double’s face and replied, “You’d better.” Satisfied, Charles asked if he could have a moment alone with T’Pol. Trip assented readily and went to join Archer across the room. T’Pol edged up to the screen, misery stamped across her features. “T’Pol,” Charles whispered. At his gentle tone, T’Pol’s breath caught in her throat. She could only nod. “T’Pol, we don’t have long, I just wanted to tell you…I just needed to say that today—seein’ you again—it was like a dream come true. I know Daniels wants to erase your memories of this mission, but you can’t let him…you can’t go on that trip to Vulcan, T’Pol. We have a chance to change the future for all of us. Those two weeks with you were the finest two weeks of my entire life. But I would give it all up to see you safe.” T’Pol was desolate. “We need to be together. I know that now.” “You got that right. But there’s still a chance T’Pol. That guy across the room…I can promise you he’s more head-over-heels in love with you than he even realises.” T’Pol tried to speak, but her voice failed her. The transmission was starting to fuzz slightly as the shuttle approached the interference of the sun’s corona. Charles’ face was more peaceful than she’d seen it yet. He looked out the window toward the stars with a strange smile on his face. “I’m gonna be with you soon, T’Pol.” He closed his eyes. “I can feel you everywhere.” T’Pol’s heart flopped and a low sob escaped her lips. “Charles….” He met her eyes again and said tenderly, “Call me Trip.” “Trip.” She swallowed and continued in a low, controlled voice, “I love you.” He smiled and blew a kiss. The screen was nearly fuzzed out now. She caught his last words through the static. “I love you too, darlin’.” The link was lost and the screen flicked back to the external view of the tiny shuttle approaching the colossal inferno of the sun at light speed. The captain and Trip quietly joined T’Pol to watch Charles go to his death and, hopefully, save the world. The shuttle was swallowed up in the sun’s brilliance. Trip put his arm around T’Pol’s waist. Captain Archer stood behind them, a hand on each of their shoulders. Nobody breathed. Minutes passed like hours. Finally, it became clear that Charles had succeeded. Trip exhaled noisily. He had just watched himself commit suicide. His first thoughts were of his parents…to lose both children in the span of a year. The posthumous honours and accolades that would undoubtedly be showered upon Charles Tucker would do nothing to alleviate their suffering. He felt sick. T’Pol turned to him and reached a hand up to his face. “Trip, Charles’ death was not in vain. This isn’t the same as what happened to Lizzie. His sacrifice saved billions of lives. Your parents will mourn him, but they will also be very proud.” Though Archer hadn’t heard Trip’s thoughts as T’Pol had, he could easily guess what was running through his friend’s mind. “She’s right Trip. And they aren’t alone. As Sim and as Charles, you have sacrificed yourself twice for the people you love. You have never hesitated. It is an honour serving with you.” He saluted formally. Trip returned the salute, somewhat dazed. The captain was right, he supposed, but it didn’t make the situation any less hideous or surreal. After they silently cleaned up some of the mess in Engineering, Archer said his farewells to his two time-travelling colleagues, and left for Starfleet Headquarters to begin the complicated task of explaining the unexpected events of the afternoon. Grieving would come later, after the numbness of shock. Trip and T’Pol had now only to wait for the temporal envelope to expire and their meeting with Daniels. Their shuttle still in the Californian desert, and Charles’ ship reduced to atoms, they made their way to Charles’ quarters to wait out the last few hours of the mission. *** Both of them were quiet, still reacting to the events of the day. T’Pol was strung out from the five-day emotional roller coaster that had climaxed today in tragedy, and though Trip was doing his best to take on as much of her excess emotion as he could, he was feeling the strain as much as she was. Trip noticed T’Pol’s meditation lamp on Charles’ bedside table. Obviously, he had inherited it from her after her death. Without speaking, he dimmed the lights, brought the lamp to the middle of the floor and lit it. T’Pol gave him a grateful look as he settled himself facing her on the floor, the lamp to their side. After a few moments of silence in which they both allowed some of their stress to drain away, Trip knelt forward and gently placed his fingers on T’Pol’s shoulders. She closed her eyes and allowed him to manipulate the neuropressure points that would bring relaxation and peace. Presently, she returned the favour, and both enjoyed the familiar routine they had become so proficient at over the last year. The meld allowed them to feel exactly where the other’s body was craving touch, and the session stretched on for over an hour. Afterward, Trip pulled T’Pol to him and wrapped his arms around her. They sat on the floor together, facing the flame of the lamp, their thoughts gently flowing around and past one another. Both were trying to avoid thinking of Daniels’ arrival in two hours’ time, but the very act of trying to evade the idea caused it to surface. A quiet desperation was building in both their hearts. T’Pol felt Trip’s hands tightening on hers and suddenly she twisted in his embrace to face him and hungrily kissed his mouth. Trip responded passionately, and soon they had fallen onto the bed and were frantically exploring each other’s bodies for the last time. It was fiery and tempestuous and tender and finally left them both drowsy with blissful exhaustion. T’Pol pulled the quilt around them and they spooned together, both intensely appreciating every moment, knowing how fleeting their joy was to be. After a moment, Trip became aware of a sore spot on his shoulder. He twisted to look at it, and realised that one of T’Pol’s ferocious nips had scraped the skin somewhat. He smiled at her sheepish mental apology and answered her silently back. Don’t apologise. That was the most…amazing…. Words failed him. He added mischievously, No wonder Vulcans only mate every seven years. Any oftener, and there’s no way you’d live as long as you do. Although, he mused, it would be a beautiful way to die. He had meant the comment in jest, but T’Pol’s heart immediately squeezed painfully. She turned to face him and took his hands in hers. I don’t want you to die. Trip felt intensely protective as he saw the naked vulnerability chasing across her features. I’m not goin’ anywhere, he reassured her and kissed her fingers. T’Pol couldn’t meet his gaze, it was too powerful. She studied his fingers, stroking them as she tried to explain. Trip, I#—I had to watch Sim and Charles die. And the idea of losing you, it’s— She couldn’t finish the thought for the pain of it. Suddenly she burst out, “I wish I wasn’t Vulcan!” Tears accompanied the exclamation. Mystified, Trip held her for the time it took for her to calm down somewhat. Then he gently asked her why. “Because, assuming I manage to survive my trip to Vulcan, I’m going to outlive you by decades.” His life seemed to her as short and brilliant as a shooting star compared with her own. Trip contemplated this, and then remembering T’Pol’s own recollection of her elderly self from Lorian’s Enterprise, he reminded her that she had showed no regret over their relationship, and in fact urged T’Pol to open up to Trip as she “couldn’t imagine” her life without him. “Besides,” Trip finished, “if you were human, you never would have been able to use your amazing abilities to share your emotions with me. Vulcans are lucky to be able to share so completely with one another. And the last few days have been the most incredible of my entire life. I wouldn’t change it for the world.” T’Pol considered for a moment before responding. Trip put hand under her chin and kissed her while she was mulling it over. He could feel her emphatic agreement with his last statement in her fibre of her being, and as she continued to gently kiss him, she reached out with her thoughts: It’s not Vulcans who are lucky…except for a deviant few, no Vulcan would share emotions with a mate. I’m the lucky one. You are an extraordinary person, Trip. Trip kissed her harder. We’ll just have to have a lot of kids to keep you company. The mention of children reminded T’Pol of what Charles had said about their marriage bond, and suddenly she pulled away from Trip and sat bolt upright in bed. Trip could sense a tumble of thoughts racing in her mind, a faint ray of hope piercing through the chaos, but he couldn’t make sense of it. He reached a hand up and stroked her shoulder. “What is it?” T’Pol slowly turned toward him, her muscular body gleaming in the flickering light of the meditation lamp. “Trip,” she asked, though she already knew what his answer would be, “were you serious earlier today when you said you wanted to marry me?” Trip trailed his hand gently from her shoulder, over her breast and down her stomach, making her shiver though the room was warm. His voice was husky as he replied, “T’Pol, I would marry you in a heartbeat.” She lost herself for a moment in the strength of the love in his eyes, touch, voice, and mind. The she opened her thoughts up and showed him her plan. The Vulcan marriage bond was not like the mind meld they were sharing now. This was stronger, more immediate, but in the short-term only. A marriage bond was a permanent telepathic union on a fundamental level. It could be purposefully undone if a marriage was ended, but if left alone, it only strengthened over time. Charles had said that he had managed to bond with T’Pol during their marriage ceremony. Normally a priest was required, but T’Pol thought that, with the meld already in place, it would be relatively simple for her to initiate the bond herself. I believe that this bond will survive Daniels’ memory wipe. Though our conscious minds will retain no memory of the past few days, and the mind meld will be dispelled, our subconscious minds will remain linked permanently. It is likely that we will be able to sense the connection on a basic level, and perhaps have a chance of accessing some of these memories later, upon returning to Enterprise. At the very least, it may help lessen some of our ridiculous reservations toward one another. Now Trip sat up, the sick desperation that had been floating vaguely in the back of his mind receding somewhat at the prospect of any chance they had to improve their bleak situation. “Do you think you will remember enough to avoid the trip to Vulcan?” he asked. “Possibly,” T’Pol answered. “There’s no way to know for sure.” He took her hands. “God, I hope so,” he muttered fervently, and then sitting up straighter said without hesitation, “So what do we do?” T’Pol’s heart was pounding in her chest. She had idly wondered over the years what it would be like the day she bonded with her betrothed, Koss. Never had she supposed for a moment that she would be performing the ceremony herself, naked on the bed of a human man, with whom she had fallen passionately in love. Life certainly was full of surprises… and she was intensely grateful for this one. Gently, T’Pol helped Trip form the proper sign with his fingers, and then pressing her own hand to his, closed her eyes and began to build the strands of the telepathic link that would bind them together in marriage. Despite the solemnity of the ceremony, Trip couldn’t help his lips from curving of their own will into a smile that stayed in place for the half hour it took T’Pol to make them husband and wife. No words were needed…the love and the intention accomplished the commitment more surely than any scripted lines could have. At length, T’Pol sat back and they both opened their eyes. A giddy sensation overtook T’Pol and she laughed aloud and impulsively reached out to hug Trip. As she leant her head on his shoulder, she recalled something Trip had said during an argument with her when working with Lorian’s crew: You know, all the other women on board must've been taken, 'cause I can't imagine any other reason why I would've married someone as stubborn as you. Trip laughed as he caught the thought. He pulled back a little to look her in the eye and said, “You’re not stubborn. You’re perfect.” He kissed her on the end of her nose and climbed off the bed to find his clothes. Daniels’ arrival was imminent and he didn’t want to find himself pantless when the time traveller appeared. They both dressed and put the room back in order. Just as they finished up, there was a sudden brief, sickening unzipping of reality as Charles’ quarters peeled away and T’Pol’s took its place. They found themselves standing exactly where they had been when they activated the jump from her quarters five days ago. This jump wasn’t as bad as the last had been, and they both experienced only a moment of light-headedness. The mission was clearly over. Trip stepped up close to T’Pol, adrenaline rushing through his veins. They were literally moments away from forgetting their feelings for each other. He carefully studied her face, and placing a gentle hand on either side of her face, bent to kiss her lips slowly one last time. They savoured the moment, and both hearts broke a little as they came apart. Someone cleared his throat, and they turned to see Daniels standing there, an apologetic look on his face. Trip sighed and took T’Pol’s hand as Daniels came forward. He faced them in silence, not commenting on their new relationship. And then he spoke: “Thank you. The mission was a success. Because of you two, because of your sacrifice (this to Trip), countless lives were saved. It was well done.” Trip brushed this aside and asked the question that had been burning in his mind since they had met Charles. “Why didn’t you tell us she’d died, Daniels?” Daniels’ face softened compassionately. “There wasn’t any point. It would only have distracted both of you at a time when T’Pol was going to have enough strain on her.” “Then why did you send her along?” “I told you before,” Daniels reiterated patiently, “Your future self would be less stubborn about believing your story if T’Pol was there. The reason being, in his timeframe, she was deceased.” T’Pol’s face twitched. “Don’t you think that was rather cruel?” Daniels looked to Trip. “What do you think?” Trip sighed. “Actually, Charles wouldn’t have had it any other way. He was glad he got to see her one last time,” he admitted. “Speaking of which, what are we going to do about it?” “About what?” Daniels asked carefully. “About T’Pol! You can’t just erase our memories and send her off to be killed again.” Trip put an arm protectively around her. T’Pol remained silent, already knowing what Daniels was sure to say. He closed his eyes briefly and then said, “Trip, you don’t know how much I wish I could undo it. But it goes against everything we work for. I can’t tamper with the timeline to suit the whims of myself or anyone else. There’s nothing I can do. I’m sorry.” Trip clenched his teeth, and nodded. Their only hope was the marriage bond. Daniels didn’t know about that. Daniels lifted his temporal tricorder. “I suggest you sit down. This will cause some disorientation.” They took seats on the edge of the bed. “Are you ready?” he asked quietly. T’Pol’s heart did a sick swoop. Her brows knitted as she looked up into Trip’s grief-stricken face. Trip held her hands and gently surrounded her with all the love he had in his heart and all the memories they had shared together. They sat like that while Daniels activated the short-term memory wipe. Darkness descended. *** T’Pol blinked and shook her head. For a moment a wave of nausea engulfed her. She looked around. She was in her quarters. Trip was sitting next to her, also shaking his head. The last thing she could remember was, vaguely, Daniels asking them to go on a temporal mission… but that was all. Trip finally cleared his vision and looked over at T’Pol. “Do you remember…Daniels showing up?” he asked in confusion. “How did I get to your quarters? Last thing I remember clearly was the Captain asking me to come to his ready room.” T’Pol stood up slowly. “I believe we were recruited for a temporal mission of some description, but that is all I can recall.” Trip also stood. He staggered momentarily as dizziness blackened his vision. T’Pol’s strong arm steadied him, and his vision cleared. She was looking up into his face, concerned. “Trip? Are you all right?” she asked. His eyes locked onto hers and briefly, intensely he had the craziest desire to wrap his arms around her and kiss her. T’Pol returned the gaze, a strange expression also on her face. After a minute, T’Pol let his arm drop, self-conscious. And slightly breathless—a sensation she attributed to the dizziness—she turned and rearranged the candles on her low table. An idea occurred to her. She straightened up. “Trip, there is a movie tonight. I believe it is starting in a few minutes. Would you like to see it?” Her voice was diffident, guarded. Trip looked at her strangely one more time before answering, “Sounds good.” They headed for the door. As he let her pass in front of him, he suddenly asked, “When did you start calling me Trip?” T’Pol’s step slowed imperceptibly and she answered with confusion in her voice. “I don’t know.” “Well, don’t stop,” Trip said with a smile in his voice as he followed her down the corridor. *** Trip enjoyed the film, in spite of the smirk he received from Malcolm when he walked in with T’Pol. But afterward, she jackrabbited right out of the mess hall before he could talk to her. Trip wandered to the back of the mess hall where the food storage was, a funny thought tugging at his mind. After musing for a moment, he picked up a slice of pecan pie, and then two forks, and left the room for T’Pol’s quarters. *** T’Pol sat in front of her meditation lamp, trying to clear her thoughts. Since she had ceased taking Trellium, she had regained much of the control of her stronger emotions. However, while sitting in the darkened mess hall next to Trip, she had found herself unable to concentrate on the film. Her thoughts had constantly gone to the man at her side; and inexplicably, she found herself watching his face tenderly. Her hand ached to take his, and warm emotions repeatedly swelled in her chest as she gazed at him. After the film ended, she had been relieved to slip out and get to the solitude of her quarters. But now, alone, she strangely craved his presence. The beep of her door chime startled her out of her reverie. She cleared her throat. “Come in.” Trip entered the room. He was carrying a plate with a slice of pie. T’Pol stood up quickly, her cheeks burning. “Commander,” she started, and then stopped. “I mean, Trip. I…what can I do for you?” Trip arched an eyebrow quizzically at her flustered state, but didn’t mention it. He lifted the plate. “Uh, call me crazy…but…is it your birthday?” He half expected her to say no, but for some reason wasn’t surprised when she lifted her eyebrows and replied, “Actually, my birthday is in four days. How did you know?” Trip shook his head and sat on the floor, placing the pie on her table. T’Pol gracefully sat next to him. He handed her a fork and took one for himself. She cut the point of the pie and placed it in her mouth, chewing slowly to savour the taste. “I don’t really know,” Trip said in response to her question. “It just kinda occurred to me somehow.” He took a bite. T’Pol glanced at him. “That doesn’t seem very logical.” Trip chuckled. “No it doesn’t, does it?” They finished the pie together, each occupied with their own thoughts. Abruptly, Trip broke the silence. “What do you think happened on that mission?” Startled, T’Pol looked up. Trip was staring out the window at the stars. “It’s unlikely we’ll ever know,“ she answered slowly. Trip turned to her. “Yeah,” he sighed, “you’re probably right.” He stood up and stretched. T’Pol followed him to the door. He stopped before it opened to admit him into the corridor, and turned back to face T’Pol. He opened his mouth to say something, but changed his mind, and just stood there. T’Pol waited expectantly, a curious expression in her eyes. Trip took her hand. “T’Pol, I—” he stopped again and looked down at her hand in his. It was small and strong and warm, and suddenly, he stepped up close to her and bent down and kissed her gently, intensely on the lips. She didn’t hesitate for even a second, just reached up with her other hand around the back of his neck and pulled him in tighter. After a moment that seemed like an hour, they broke apart. T’Pol wrapped her arms around him and held him briefly, and in that instant, the strangest sensation crackled between them… almost as if they could hear each other’s thoughts. Finally T’Pol let go. Trip’s heart was pounding so hard he was sure she could hear it. “What was that?” he asked bewildered. Whether he meant the kiss or the strange feeling of ESP or both, he wasn’t sure. “I don’t know,” T’Pol answered, a quaver in her normally controlled voice. Trip almost said something more, but instead he simply stroked her cheek quickly and exited her quarters. The door started to hiss shut, but T’Pol stepped through it before it could and called after Trip. He stopped and came back. T’Pol paused for a moment, unsure of how to put her thoughts into words, and then asked, “What are your plans for the upcoming shore leave?” Trip seemed perplexed by the change of subject. “I was planning on sticking around here. Hometown’s not what it used to be, y’know?” he said, his voice cheerless. T’Pol paused for a fraction of a second before suggesting, “You could come with me.” Trip stepped closer. “To Vulcan?” he asked interestedly. “You've told the Captain that you don't get to see as many alien cultures as you'd like,” T’Pol demurred. “You've never been to Vulcan….” She left the thought dangling, inviting. Trip leaned in and kissed her softly on her forehead. “I’d love to,” he said without hesitation. He then turned and walked off down the corridor, suppressing a strong desire to whistle, but unable to wipe the ecstatic smile off his face.
They exited the tunnel and emerged into the breathtaking splendour of the lava fields. Trip was stunned for about the hundredth time at the stark beauty of T’Pol’s homeworld. Earth had nothing like this. Thinking of home, it occurred to him to invite her to see some of his favourite places before they took off again, and he said so. “You know, if we have time when we get back to Earth, I'd like to show you some sights...return the favour.” He glanced over at her. She hadn’t seemed to notice what he’d said. In fact, she’d been somewhat preoccupied all afternoon. “Everything okay?” Trip asked, concerned. Fidgeting, T’Pol steeled herself and got it over with: “There is something I need to tell you. I've decided to marry Koss.” The bottom dropped out of Trip’s stomach. “Marry him?” T’Pol didn’t meet his eye. Her voice took on a rationalizing tone. “If I join his family, my mother will regain her position at the Academy. His father is a senior administrator with a great deal of influence.” Trip shook his head in mystification and said, “I don't get it. Are they forcing you to do this?” “The decision is mine,” T’Pol assured him bleakly but firmly. “My mother resigned because of my actions.” For a supposedly unemotional species, Trip could’ve sworn it was guilt that was weighing her shoulders down and pinching her face. “You told me three years ago you didn't even love this guy,” he began accusingly, “So you're just going to leave Starfleet… move back to Vulcan?” T’Pol swiftly rejoined, “I've been negotiating with Koss’ family—” “‘Negotiating’?” Trip couldn’t keep the incredulity from creeping into his voice. “They've agreed,” T’Pol went on doggedly, as if trying to convince herself. “We won't have to reside together... not right away. I'll remain on Enterprise for the time being.” “That's real generous of you.” Trip’s voice went flat as he realized what a colossal fool he had been to assume she would wait around till he was good and ready to tell her how he felt. A curious sensation lit the back of his brain as he stood with the woman he loved on a barren lava field and listened to her lay plans for a life without him. And he did love her. He was certain of that. A sense of stunning clarity highlighted every split second and he realized that this moment was his chance. He saw clearly the two paths before him and grasped the enormity of the outcome of the next few minutes. T’Pol, unaware of his epiphany, was continuing in a weary voice: “Trip, I have to do this. For many reasons.” “And how am I supposed to take this?” Trip asked despairingly. He wanted to tell her. He wanted to seize her and kiss her; it would be so right. But strangely, something was preventing him. By no means was it doubt. It was something else. Trip turned. “You're sorry. You brought me sixteen light years just to watch you get married to someone you barely know?” His stomach twisted, sick at the thought. What was it? What was stopping him? Suddenly, he had a flash of premonition. Fear thrilled through his veins as an unbidden image of T’Pol falling to the ground before him in agony crackled through his mind. The picture stilled his tongue. Prevented him from opening his heart. He couldn’t have said why, but instead of telling her how he felt, he simply, quietly walked back the way they had come. As if he sensed that, though he was losing the woman he loved, in doing this, in letting her go, he would prevent himself losing her altogether. And that was better than nothing. THE END
PS ~ Thanks to all my readers for being so patient waiting for this last chapter… just recently discovered I’m pregnant (yay!) and have been too tired to write much. :) Merry Christmas! The story continues in The Forgotten Time II: Ashaya |
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