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"Reflecting to You"
By MissAnnThropic
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: None of its mine. I’m just a sad little fangirl that spends her days writing fanfic and watching taped episodes of my favorite shows. :(
Description: A different ending to In a Mirror Darkly, Part I, results in the Mirror Universe T'Pol ending up on our universe's Enterprise when the relationship between Trip and T'Pol is at a breaking point. (later becomes a cross-over with ST:TOS, Spoilers: The Tholian Web)
Chapter 17
Captain's Log, March 12, 2155
Enterprise has been in the space previously designated as the Delphic Expanse for four days now, and so far the scientific readings we've taken have been very promising. There is no indication of any anomalous spatial phenomena that would preclude perfectly safe travel through this previously treacherous area of space. The Vulcans should be very pleased with our findings when we turn over our data to them.
Speaking of Vulcans, our 'guest' has been aboard for two weeks and the crew is adjusting to her presence. While brusque, even for a Vulcan, she seems to be adapting to this new universe as well as can be expected. She has been assisting our science team with the survey work and lately has been reading through the general database on Enterprise, relearning history from our point of view.
She's had a few diligent tutors and guides in fitting in with our crew, most notably Commander Tucker.
Addendum: I intend to propose to Starfleet the possibility of instating a ship's psychological counselor on every deep space exploration vessel.
*****
The door chime sounded in Captain Archer's ready room just as he finished his entry. Archer scrutinized the dictated captain's log on the screen of his computer while he said aloud, "Computer, stop recording. Come in."
The door hissed open and his visitor announced himself with typical formality. "Captain." The voice of his armory officer was unmistakable… as was the tension with which it was fraught.
Archer smiled patiently and asked, "What is it now, Lieutenant?" The captain leaned back from his computer and turned to face his officer, only to lose all joviality when he saw Malcolm's face. A large bruise was darkening the right side of the man's face as he stood ramrod straight with his hands clasped behind his back.
"What happened?" Archer asked in concern as he stood up to get a closer look at the damage.
"Mu'Pol, sir," Malcolm replied contritely.
"She attacked you?" Archer could scarcely believe it.
Since being released from sickbay, Mu'Pol had been a consummate guest, if only driven by a sense of what she should do to protect herself from open hostility. She was going to every length to not to give Archer a reason to think her a threat to his ship, and she had been doing it well. It was clear from watching her behavior with the crew that she still felt uneasy around most of them… she had a lifetime of learning to unlearn, and it would take much longer than two weeks to stick. For the most part, she kept to herself.
Hoshi had become a frequent companion to Mu'Pol, acting as a translator not of language, but of culture. The humans of this universe acted in ways that were obviously hard for Mu'Pol to comprehend, and Hoshi had made it her self-assigned duty to explain the differences to Mu'Pol as best she could. In a very real sense, Hoshi had to reintroduce Mu'Pol to the human race. As of late, Mu'Pol seemed to be grateful for the role Hoshi had adopted and actually began going to the linguist with questions, making full use of Hoshi's willingness to share.
Archer himself didn't associate much with Mu'Pol, though it wasn't for lack of trying. He made several overtures of friendship (with Porthos ensconced safely elsewhere), but Mu'Pol never relented to his efforts; Archer could see the distrust and wariness in Mu'Pol's eyes, a distrust that would not fade no matter how many times he smiled or how many assurances he made. His position of authority made her jumpy. It saddened Archer and he realized that, for now, the best option was to back off and let Mu'Pol get used to him (not the idea of his counterpart that Mu'Pol held to) from a distance before he tried to bring her an olive branch.
Hoshi kept Archer abreast of how Mu'Pol was fitting in, as her closest 'colleague' aboard Enterprise.
Next to Trip, of course.
Archer got an uneasy roiling in his stomach every time he thought of Trip and Mu'Pol's… 'friendship'.
Trip had been spending quite a bit of time with Mu'Pol. He had been performing neuropressure on her ever since her release from sickbay and Archer's horribly awkward interruption of their first session. An old-fashioned part of Archer balked at the thought of them doing neuropressure every time. Trip said it wasn't cheating on T'Pol. Archer, somehow, didn't truly believe it. Not in his heart. He had a better understanding of neuropressure now than he'd had when Trip first began undergoing treatment with T'Pol two years ago. He knew now it was a very personal, close-contact art… done with a conspicuous lack of clothing. And he knew it was something special when he'd once asked T'Pol, curious about it, if she would mind showing it to him. After all, he'd seen what magic it worked on Trip and he wanted to better understand his first officer's culture through her point of view. He thought it would be no more presumptuous than offering to show T'Pol a water polo game. T'Pol had become acutely uncomfortable with his request and explained it was a very 'personal encounter' and by her reaction Archer realized she meant 'intimate'.
Now Trip was doing this 'intimate' art with Mu'Pol.
Archer wanted to be disappointed with Trip for his 'adultery', but he couldn't really hold Trip to that crime. Trip and T'Pol weren't married, just bonded, and who was Archer to decide the two were interchangeable? Besides, Trip and T'Pol were in a strange limbo of being around each other frequently but never talking to each other. If Archer wanted to see them as married in a sense, he had to recognize they were separated in the same sense now. By even his standards, that should free Trip to associate with whomever he chose as closely as he liked.
Archer also had trouble rationally begrudging Mu'Pol Trip's company, because other than Hoshi, Trip was the only person Mu'Pol appeared to have 'hit it off' with on the ship. Did Archer want Mu'Pol to be alone? No. But why did it have to be Trip, of all people…
Her choice of companions aside, Mu'Pol had been very unobtrusive as far as unexpected visitors went. A very Vulcan guest, in truth; after a few days free from sickbay she became bored and asked if she could assist the crew with any duties. She was, after all, a science officer in her own right, and the people in her universe may have been different but the laws of physics and astronomy were not.
Archer found it extremely illogical to have at his disposal another T'Pol with comparable intellect and skill and not make use of her when she offered her services. He assigned her to the science department as a junior grade officer. Unlike the social interactions with the crew, which still flummoxed her, Mu'Pol had taken immediately to her new duties. In fact, she seemed to find solace in them and the place they gave her.
After getting a better 'feel' for this duplicate T'Pol, Archer had lifted his ban on her entering the bridge and amended it to her being permitted on the bridge during the alpha shift. Despite the Vulcan woman's predilection for dog abuse, she seemed willing to be peaceful so Archer tested it out by loosening up on her. Besides, during alpha shift Malcolm was usually on the bridge, and Archer trusted the Englishman's natural suspicion to keep an adequate eye on Mu'Pol's actions when she was on the bridge.
She still wasn't allowed in the armory, for obvious reasons, nor engineering. There was always a small whirlwind of activity going on in the engine room that left too much opportunity for a saboteur to 'slip in' unnoticed. They had had far more 'hijacks' from engineering than from the bridge in their time traversing hostile space and Archer had learned his lesson. When it came right down to it, the engine room took precedence over the bridge. Decisions could be made anywhere, but the heart of the ship was immovable.
Though Archer would bet money that Trip wouldn't let Mu'Pol out of his sight if she was in engineering, and he wasn't entirely sure what would be the real reason.
Mu'Pol's placement on the science team meant she interacted on a regular basis with the senior science officer on Enterprise… T'Pol. It seemed a potentially explosive, or at least intriguing, situation.
Instead, Archer had noticed that the two T'Pols seemed to make every effort not to associate on a personal level with one another. Their professionalism was downright commendation-worthy, because Archer knew he couldn't interact with a mirror universe version of himself so implacably. To see them interact, one would think they were mere crewmates.
Even still, Archer had almost expected the two women to become if not friends then friendly. They were, after all, the only two Vulcans on a ship full of humans. He imagined that they would have a lot in common, besides their genetic makeup.
Instead, they went to great lengths to avoid each other.
Malcolm still had severe reservations about Mu'Pol and he felt justified in bringing them to the captain's attention constantly. Archer came to expect Malcolm's 'voicing of concerns' regarding the strange woman. They were mostly unfounded, Malcolm's 'gut' talking, but this was the first time Malcolm had come in with an injury, courtesy of their duplicate Vulcan.
Malcolm scowled. "Yes, sir, she attacked me."
"Why?" Archer asked sternly. He had gotten the sense Mu'Pol would be peaceful, but he was ready to throw her in the brig if that proved not to be the case.
Malcolm flushed and his rigid stance wavered. "I… told her to, sir."
Archer frowned. "You… what?"
"I asked her to show me some hand-to-hand combat techniques in a sparring match." Malcolm became irritated. "I wanted to ascertain her level of fighting skill."
Archer ventured an ironic smirk. "Guess they were pretty good."
Malcolm snorted. "And I thought Major Hayes was rough with me."
"Well… you did ask for it. What do you want me to do, punish her for besting you?"
"It's not that she beat me in a fight, sir, it was how. You should have seen her face, Captain, when she executed the final technique… she was prepared to kill me, I could see it in her eyes. She's dangerous."
Archer mulled that over as he rounded his table. "I notice that you're still alive."
Malcolm frowned. "She stopped, but not before I saw the intent written plainly on her face. She was going to, and I can assure you she could have."
"Commander T'Pol could kill any one of us without much trouble if it came down to a hand-to-hand fight and she had half a mind to," Archer pointed out.
"But I trust Commander T'Pol… I don't trust this doppelganger of hers."
"Don't you think you're being a little unfair? You have to remember where she's from. Don't think of her as Vulcan, think of her as Klingon."
Malcolm looked aghast. "Sir! I'm not even Vulcan and that's… insulting."
Archer chuckled. "And don't you go repeating that to either T'Pol, that's an order, but that's how I have to look at it to remind myself. Or, if you prefer - in the strictest confidence, of course - think of her as a dog that's been beaten all its life by a cruel master.
"Mu'Pol might look just like the Vulcans in this universe, but she was brought up in a very different environment. One of bloodshed and violence, and she had to adapt to survive in it.
"She's done nothing in the time she's been here to suggest she wants to pick a fight," Archer looked at Malcolm's bruised face and amended, "unless directly asked to, and T'Pol assures me she's not here to endanger this ship or crew. All things considered, I'm willing to give her a chance."
Malcolm almost pouted. "I still think she's dangerous."
"Then you keep watching her, be the security officer, but I don't want you to make things harder for her. If you really believe she shows signs of deliberate and sincere aggression toward the crew or Enterprise, let me know and it will be dealt with. Otherwise, I'd avoid sparring with her in the future."
Malcolm sighed. "Yes, sir."
Archer gave Malcolm an encouraging pat on the arm. "Go let Phlox take a look at that cheek."
"It's nothing, sir."
Archer smiled tightly. "Go anyway."
Malcolm nodded assent and left the captain's ready room.
Archer went back to his chair and sat down in front of his computer. His latest entry was still on the screen, staring back at him impassively. He reread his log entry then closed down the program.
*****
"All right, hit me," Hoshi said boldly as she plopped down at the table across from Mu'Pol in the mess hall.
Mu'Pol looked up and, at first, had to stop herself from literally obliging. It was a reflex she was working hard to curb. Here, the phrase also meant 'proceed with your intended statement', and it was the manner in which Hoshi had begun to open their 'cultural reeducation' lessons.
Mu'Pol considered Hoshi in silence a moment while the linguist sated her hunger with a few bites of dinner while she waited for Mu'Pol to gather her thoughts.
This Hoshi had an indefatigable pleasantness to her that Mu'Pol, now that she was more accustomed to it, found to be a great improvement over the disposition of the Sato she knew in her universe. When Hoshi had initially suggested she 'teach' Mu'Pol about this universe, Mu'Pol had naturally assumed it was to feed her deceptions and lies that would serve Hoshi's interests. She had declined and turned to the databanks of Enterprise instead. She discovered, however, that 'the devil was in the details' as humans would say, and she needed to know things that simply weren't spelled out plainly in the ship's computer. It didn't break down human nature, there was no need to; the ship was human and they all knew by education from birth the nature of humanity as it applied to each individual culture. With reluctance, Mu'Pol agreed to learn from Hoshi.
She'd been pleasantly surprised. Hoshi was patient and thorough and what little Mu'Pol could think to verify with the computer data (and she did so at every opportunity) revealed no misleading contradictions on Hoshi's part. Mu'Pol began to trust Hoshi's word. When Hoshi didn't know an answer she admitted as much. She didn't make up things to appear endlessly knowledgeable and valuable as an ally.
Mu'Pol discovered that Hoshi was also very sensitive to Mu'Pol's likes and dislikes, her moods and dispositions… she had the same keen ability to discern another's nature as the Sato from her universe, but instead of using it as a tool, this Hoshi let it modulate her behavior for the comfort of her company. Hoshi never touched Mu'Pol, aware of the Vulcan dislike for physical contact. She deconstructed emotional dilemmas perplexing Mu'Pol about the crew in much smaller, more logical bits of information. Hoshi took care with matters that made Mu'Pol uneasy. When English had no words for a concept she was trying to explain, or could not explain satisfactorily, Hoshi switched to speaking in Vulcan for Mu'Pol's benefit.
It was the reason Mu'Pol was able to adjust so much easier to Hoshi than the rest of the crew, because Hoshi did the most toward meeting Mu'Pol in the middle.
Hoshi looked back up at Mu'Pol expectantly, smiling encouragingly as she did so.
Mu'Pol was getting to the point where she no longer tensed when a human smiled at her.
"Moments ago I was in the gym with Lieutenant Reed," Mu'Pol began. She glanced down at her workout attire, which she still wore. She may as well have; she had not broken a sweat in the short match she'd gone against the human.
Hoshi nodded and took a drink.
Mu'Pol frowned at her tray. "He asked me to engage in mock combat with him. I did so."
"And…? Did you win?" Hoshi asked with a conspiratorial smirk.
It would almost be familiar but for the warmth in Hoshi's eyes. "I was victorious."
Hoshi chuckled. "Bet that bruised the lieutenant's pride."
"Among other things."
Hoshi laughed. "You didn't do any permanent damage, did you?"
"No. But I do not understand his reaction. I presumed he did not want me to intentionally lose when he asked me to engage him in combat, but when I defeated him he was very displeased. Not exactly angry, but displeased. I halted my attack just short of performing tal-shaya and yet he behaved as though I had used excessive force and was unhappy with my performance."
"Well, it might have just been Malcolm being testy… he doesn't like to lose, not in a fight, anyway. Doesn't like to be out-shot in target practice, either. He gets pissy. Remind me to tell you about Major Hayes. What's tal-shaya?"
"An unarmed technique for efficiently breaking the neck of one's opponent."
Hoshi's smile vanished, as did her jocular attitude, and she sat up straighter.
Mu'Pol frowned. "You are now reacting the way Lieutenant Reed did. What was my error?"
Hoshi thought a moment about how to explain it best. "Here, in sparring matches it is understood that nothing deadly will be attempted. The safety of one's partner is always taken into account. Well, it should be. Sometimes things get out of hand, but even then there's nothing worse than a bloody nose or black eye. Malcolm was not expecting to be on the receiving end of a lethal technique." Hoshi tapped the prongs of her fork against her tray in distraction. "What would you have done in your universe?"
"Killed him," Mu'Pol answered plainly.
"Was there ever a moment today when you intended to actually kill Malcolm?"
Mu'Pol considered how she should answer, then she decided Hoshi could only help her understand if she spoke truly. "Yes."
Hoshi swallowed around obvious disquiet but did not let her deter her from teaching Mu'Pol. "I'll bet Malcolm saw that moment in you; when it comes to that kind of stuff, he doesn't miss much."
"But he asked me to show him what I was capable of doing in a hand-to-hand fight," Mu'Pol said in exasperation.
"I'm sure he did… but you still surprised him. You went too far by our standards."
So many new nuances to learn… if she got the chance. Mu'Pol said with dread, "Lieutenant Reed will report my actions to Captain Archer."
"Probably."
"I will be executed."
Hoshi blinked in shock. "Of course you won't be! You didn't actually kill Malcolm, you said you just bruised hum up a little. You got a little carried away in a sparring match. It's happened before on Enterprise and no one died for it. The captain might talk to you, tell you to watch yourself on the mat, but he won't do anything to hurt you." Hoshi's face clouded with worry and sorrow. "Captain Archer is not nearly as brutal as you keep thinking he is. I don't know why you can't give him a better chance, like you've given me and Travis. I can guarantee you that Captain Archer won't let you down."
Mu'Pol hesitated uncomfortably. She was not yet capable of placing such explicit trust in a human, though it was obviously something that came naturally to the humans in this universe. "Perhaps… but you have not seen the cruelty of which Jonathan Archer is capable."
Hoshi looked solemn at the statement. "I'm not as ignorant as you think." Hoshi seemed to shrink down in her seat, wilting in tempered misery. "We all did things we'd like to forget in the Expanse while we were hunting the Xindi… some things that I know will haunt Captain Archer to his deathbed."
"Where I am from," Mu'Pol said evenly, "those are the very things in which humans take the most pride."
Hoshi shook her head and picked at her green beans. Mu'Pol, likewise, turned to her meal for a moment. Sometimes, the things Hoshi learned about Mu'Pol's universe troubled the linguist greatly and she had to sit with the idea a moment to fully digest it. Mu'Pol had discovered a natural give and take between the information Hoshi provided and that which Mu'Pol offered. They were truly learning together. The exchange made Mu'Pol more amenable to the arrangement; it did not leave her in Hoshi's debt.
In the ensuing silence, Travis joined them with his own dinner tray. He greeted Hoshi warmly and Mu'Pol kindly, but he got a sense of the atmosphere between the two women and did not launch into one of his typically upbeat stories. Mu'Pol had been surprised at the care this Mayweather took with his shipmates. In her universe, Ensign Mayweather was the silent type that she watched with caution… she knew there was quiet danger in him. He was too intelligent to be as unassuming or without ambition as he acted. He watched like the stalking le'matya, and Mu'Pol always understood his fangs, when unleashed, would be poisonous.
This Travis was almost an inversion of the Travis she knew from her universe. Reserve was gregariousness here, darkness was a reflexive smile. Here, Travis Mayweather was openly sensitive, especially toward Hoshi. Mu'Pol did not need long to realize the two were romantically involved. Thankfully, he kept any repulsively affectionate behavior toward Hoshi to a minimum when Mu'Pol was present. Currently, he ate quietly between the two women, waiting for one of them to set the tone for him.
Mu'Pol was just as content for Travis to be quiet. This Travis had an overly-active fondness for story-telling. In that aspect, she preferred the brooding Mayweather of her universe.
Hoshi finally asked Mu'Pol, "What would Malcolm have done if it was your universe?"
"Put up a better fight," Mu'Pol answered.
One side of Hoshi's mouth turned up in a very slow smile and Mu'Pol felt, quite unexpectedly, a strange kinship with the human woman at that moment. The smile faded and Hoshi continued, "Besides that."
"Had I failed to kill him at the time we fought, he would have done everything in his abilities to kill me instead. If I defeated him and made the mistake of humiliating him in the process, he would have plotted my assassination."
Travis stared agog at the conversation he'd sat in the middle of without foreknowledge, a speared green bean dangling from his fork where it froze halfway to his mouth.
Hoshi considered that intently. "You understand that our Malcolm won't?"
Constantly, Hoshi challenged Mu'Pol's preconceptions. It could be vexing at times, but it also turned out to be very elucidating. Mu'Pol was forced to examine her own thoughts in ways she had not before; things that had become reflex in her prior life she now had to study and pick apart. "Yes."
Hoshi nodded in silent approval and glanced over at Travis. Her face transformed into a gentle openness at the sight of him and their expressions traded tender inflections.
Mu'Pol watched for only a moment before it felt inappropriate to observe them so closely and she turned her eyes in the opposite direction… and found herself looking across the mess hall at a far table where T'Pol and Trip were sitting together in complete silence. T'Pol was eating in mechanical, textbook Vulcan etiquette form. She was entirely right angles, her back and her legs, the bend of her knees, the crook of her arms at rest on the tabletop between bites. It was all very sharp. Her eyes were locked on her plate as though Trip did not exist. Nor anything else in the mess hall, for that matter.
Trip was eating robotically, eyes glassy and expression slack. His complexion was waxy and pallid. He looked almost ill but he went through the motions of living. Unlike T'Pol, Trip couldn't ignore his dinner companion. He was constantly glancing up at her in yearning.
T'Pol never returned his glance.
Mu'Pol, inexplicably troubled, moved her eyes back to her own dinner tray… plomeek soup and dumplings. Trip had been right; she did like the combination of human and Vulcan cuisine.
Hoshi and Travis began conversing with each other after a short silence, and Mu'Pol was content to let them, focusing on her meal and thinking about the things she had learned. It had to be assimilated and integrated into her new working model of this universe. She had to learn the rules to survive here. Most important was survival.
Mu'Pol couldn't help noticing when T'Pol finished eating and wordlessly stood, leaving Trip alone at their previously shared table. Without a single backward glance at him, T'Pol moved away from Trip then left the mess hall entirely.
When T'Pol was gone, Trip stopped eating, as though freed from a behavior commanded by a superior officer, and his gaze went out of focus. His attention swam before him, casting about him a look of being extremely lost in thought. He blinked heavily, took a slow breath, and looked over at Mu'Pol.
Mu'Pol looked quickly away, oddly flustered to have been caught staring.
A minute later, Trip was standing before the table Mu'Pol, Hoshi, and Travis were sharing.
Hoshi looked up genially and addressed him first. "Good evening, Commander. Would you like to join us?"
"Sure," he said and sat down opposite Travis with Mu'Pol at his left. Mu'Pol glanced surreptitiously at him. He looked tired. Trip gave her an acknowledging look but focused his attention on Hoshi and Travis, who were quick and eager to engage in human socialization rituals.
The three humans made 'small talk' a few minutes, ship-talk and harmless gossip about crewmembers (Hoshi seemed to have the 'scoop' on such matters), but it wasn't long before Hoshi and Travis excused themselves with shy looks and sly smiles toward one another. Mu'Pol was certain they meant to leave and fornicate. She bid them goodnight, as she had observed was the polite custom in this universe, then was left alone at the table with Trip.
She looked at him and found he was watching her.
"So… you ready for your next neuropressure treatment?"
It took her a moment to recite her premeditated answer, for she had been expecting this question from him. "I no longer require your assistance. My recovery is beyond the point of necessitating additional therapy."
Trip nodded absently. "All right. In that case, I need to ask a favor." He studied Mu'Pol seriously a second. "I think you owe me one."
There was no denying that. She should have expected to have to pay for the service of neuropressure that he had so selflessly rendered. Clearly, it was time to repay. Tense, Mu'Pol nodded. "Very well. What manner of 'favor' do you require of me?" She hoped it was not exorbitant. Her sense of 'the right thing to do' would only commit her to doing so much for a human.
Trip's schooled expression cracked and when it did he looked very worn. "I want you to teach me how to control my emotions. Like Vulcans do."
That genuinely surprised Mu'Pol.
Apparently, it translated in the look on her face, because Trip's lips twitched in a very insincere, heartsick smirk. "You know that T'Pol and I are, that our bond's…" he hunted for the word.
"In distress," Mu'Pol provided.
Trip nodded slowly. "Yeah. Well, it's actually beyond 'distressed' at this point. The truth is… we've decided to severe the bond as soon as we can make it back to Vulcan and see a qualified Vulcan doctor."
Mu'Pol blinked, almost as taken aback by that as she had been to discover Trip and T'Pol had bonded in the first place. In ancient Vulcan tradition, such divorces of a matebond were very rare. The attachment the bond created almost always assured it would be maintained by both mates. It was self-sustaining in that respect. Something had to be very awry for mates to seek it to be severed. Diseased by extenuating circumstances of extraordinary degree that any Vulcan would recoil from by inborn mandate.
"You no longer have affection for Commander T'Pol?"
Trip looked plainly at her. "I love her."
Mu'Pol felt two reactions war within her. One was a squirming discomfort… to hear a human, this human, so effortlessly and earnestly confess to loving a Vulcan, and not just any Vulcan, was unprecedented in her inner world. Humans did not love the way that she knew, without doubt, Trip meant when he just used the word in regards to T'Pol. He did not hide or show any shame for loving T'Pol.
The second reaction was a sinking dread and almost instinctive panic, born of her Vulcan understanding of what that meant.
"Why would you risk severing the bond if your affection for her is unshaken?"
Trip pressed his lips together. "Because I'm hurting her."
"Do you understand the danger to your life if you undergo the severing when you still care deeply for your bonded mate?" Mu'Pol asked insistently, in truth almost a little angrily.
"Doesn't matter," Trip mumbled.
Mu'Pol flared. "How could the possibility of death not matter?"
"I have to do what's best for her."
Mu'Pol felt the fleeting human desire to reach over and slap him. He made absolutely no sense to her. That wasn't unusual, but the circumstances this time were imminently direr. He would let himself be ripped to shreds, his mind torn apart, his very essence shattered beyond the body's ability to withstand. It would be the equivalent of being mentally skinned alive and left for dead, and Trip would go into such peril willingly. Why?!
Amid her confusion, Trip slowly slid his hand across the table toward her, palm up. He let it come to rest a few inches from her tray. Mu'Pol looked down at his hand, confused.
Trip said, "Vulcans are touch-telepaths, right?"
Mu'Pol nodded, puzzled.
"Since you got here, you've been keeping your shields up so you won't feel any of us, not even me, right?"
Mu'Pol nodded again, now wary, once again disquieted by how accurately this Trip Tucker could predict her and how much he understood of Vulcan behavior. How much he could discern of her nature. More than any human she had ever known. Truly, more than she thought any human could ever comprehend a Vulcan. More, perhaps, than she ever wanted one to… even her own Commander Tucker once upon a time.
Trip nodded toward his hand. "Let them down a little and touch me."
It went against her instincts; she had learned long ago to completely block the touch-telepathy response. She had to or she would have gone insane long ago. Human aggression was too disorienting and powerful. Blocking them was something that had become second-nature to Vulcans in close contact with humans. Those who didn't went mad and killed themselves or others.
She hesitated at the idea of relaxing those safeguards and subjecting herself to human emotions. It was like being linked to the mind of a savage animal and she had no desire to feel those emotions.
But Trip's eyes were asking her to feel his.
Slowly, Mu'Pol reached out and touched Trip's hand, letting her fingers slide inside his curled fingers and rest against his palm. Then she let down her inner walls, just barely.
A white-hot lance of pain and sadness sliced into her consciousness and she jerked her hand out of his on reflex and threw her shields back up at full strength. She looked up sharply at Trip, who merely shrugged and pulled his hand back. "Now imagine being bonded to that."
Mu'Pol shivered inside at the horrific thought alone.
Trip leaned his elbows against the table. "I can't do that to her anymore. And I can't stand her blocking me anymore."
"She is blocking the bond?" Mu'Pol said in a small voice, still shaken by the emotional crush she had experienced so briefly and still trying to recover her bearings. As she did so, she began to understand her counterpart in this universe a little better. Perhaps this T'Pol was more akin to Mu'Pol's humans of the Terran Empire. That T'Pol could bond to a human, cultivate the depth of affection and attachment that Trip had for her like a farmer growing crops, and then refuse the bond so coldly spoke of a cruelty predating the age of reason heralded by Surak. Not only that, but to allow him to endanger his life to severe a bond in which he was too emotionally enmeshed to truly want gone was tantamount to asking him to die slowly and painfully for her pleasure.
Because obviously, the agony and eventual death that would befall Trip if they went through with the severing didn't matter to T'Pol. She would let her human mate die because he was no longer of value to her, too troublesome and burdensome to even rate any consideration for his very life. The farmer sending his animal to slaughter.
Mu'Pol tried not to spare much thought to her counterpart in this universe, but at that moment Mu'Pol felt a kernel of the kind of disgust that used to be reserved specifically for humans. How very backward that she would feel that same distaste in this universe not for a human, but a fellow Vulcan.
Trip nodded dully to Mu'Pol's question about the blocked bond, mindless of her inner turmoil. "It's something broken inside me, and as long as the bond's there, being blocked, it will never get fixed. I can't get better with it… bleeding me.
"And T'Pol's… I'm suffocating her and I don't know how to stop… except to sever the bond.
"But we can't do anything about it until we get back to Vulcan and a special priest can perform the severing. Until then… I just, if I could control my emotions maybe I could spare her some of my feelings. At least until she can free herself of her bond to me."
Apparently, what pleased T'Pol was the only thing that mattered in this universe. It was obviously the only thing that mattered to Trip. "Freeing her could kill you," Mu'Pol pointed out again.
Trip rubbed his forehead, as though beset by a terrible headache. "I'm not suicidal. I don't want to die, but if I can't end this… there are worse things than dying."
She agreed; there were things worse than dying. And a twisted and deformed mateband, to a Vulcan, would certainly be worse than death.
Mu'Pol looked uncomfortably away from Trip and his request… and its reasoning. To her it was so many layers of weakness and frailty and it made her want to dismiss him for being pathetic. In her universe, were it her Tucker, she would. All her life she was taught to believe such weakness should be punished. But this Trip was very different from her Tucker, in his own ways both stronger and weaker.
Intellectually, she recognized she should judge this Trip by the standards of this universe and not her own. But she was still a poor judge of knowing was this universe's standards were.
In the end, she decided it came down to the fact that he had helped her when she needed it, and now it was only logical that she return the gesture. And if in doing so she could cast out some of his crippling weakness, make him stronger… perhaps there would be something worthwhile beneath the human agonies that shrouded his katra.
It would be interesting to learn the results, in any case.
At length, Mu'Pol returned her eyes to him. "I will teach you what I can."
He looked overwhelmed with relief. "Thank you."
Mu'Pol eyed him and decided in that moment. "We may begin now. Come with me."
Back to Chapter 16
Continue to Chapter 18
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