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Counting Down to Zero
Rated: PG … mild language and adult situations. A/N: This has long lain fallow upon my hard drive though some of you may recognize it from my LJ. There are 6 planned "chapters" and I hope I can finally figure out the ending... Z Minus Seven A sudden gasp from Trip snapped her awake. T'Pol had not intended to sleep, but the reassuring warmth of Trip's body alongside hers had, like everything else about the man, lulled her into an unexpected sense of comfort. Too late, she had realized just how tired she truly was, and by then, it had already been too late. Moving from the bed had been too much trouble, and those difficult questions didn't seem to be that difficult after all. Opening her eyes, she discovered that Trip's face was contorted as he rapidly hyperventilated. Low whines were escaping his throat as he began to thrash about on the bed. His eyes rapidly darted around underneath the eyelids, and T'Pol felt her stomach lurch at the sight of him in so much distress – she had thought that the nightmares had passed. She had hoped that they had passed. Impulsively, she reached out and caressed his face with two fingers, wishing that there was something she could do to help. In that moment, his eyes flew open. Gasping for breath, he wasn't aware of her presence for a long moment as he simply struggled to draw in oxygen. She could feel his heart hammering as he trembled in the terrible dream's aftermath. When he realized that he was not alone, he jerked away from her in surprise, nearly smacking his head against the bulkhead as he did. "T'Pol?" he asked in confusion. He blinked rapidly, as if trying discern whether she was a figment of his imagination. "What are ... why are you in my bed?" Humiliation flooded through her then, and she found it impossible to meet his eyes. How could she tell him the truth? Especially when she didn't know herself? "I apologize," she whispered before beginning to rise. "It was inappropriate." Almost before she had begun to move, Trip was reaching out, his hand grasping her wrist. "No!" Nightmare induced panic was still in his eyes. "Don't go!" She hesitated, unsure of what she should do, and he took advantage of her momentary confusion. Pulling her back onto the bed, he molded his body to hers, wrapping one arm around her while the other slid under the pillow that they now shared. It was a surprisingly intimate position, and she stiffened instinctively. This was what she had been afraid of. Having discovered her in his bed, he would expect sexual relations now, and a part of her was still hesitant about taking that step once more. But only a part. To her surprise, though, he seemed content to simply hold her and her tension drained away once more. The feel of his arm around her was pleasant, and she found herself relaxing against him. His warm breath upon her ear was soothing, though she could not comprehend why. "Your nightmares have returned," T'Pol said after a long moment. She knew he could hear her worry, yet found herself unconcerned about such a lapse. No one knew her quite as well as Trip did. She tried not to think about what that could mean for the future. "Different ones," he replied in a sleepy voice. His hand began stroking her arm, and she fought against the shiver of pleasure it caused. "About Sim, actually." He hesitated at her indrawn breath. "T'Pol?" "How long have you been experiencing these dreams?" she asked, already suspecting the answer. When he did not reply, she rolled onto her back and looked up at him. "Trip?" The smile that he gave her then was completely unexpected given the nature of their conversation, and caused T'Pol's stomach to tighten slightly, especially when she realized just how close their faces were. She would never understand this man. It troubled her, though, just how much she wanted to understand him. "I like it when you say my name," the commander revealed, his voice husky, and T'Pol swallowed in trepidation. Her eyes focused on his lips, and she found herself wanting to taste him again. "I've had 'em ever since the surgery," Tucker continued as he glanced toward the chronometer before relaxing again. "It's not a big deal, T'Pol. I can handle it." His hand began tracing random patterns on her abdomen, and she tried to keep the muscles from quivering. She wasn't very successful. "You should have told me," T'Pol pointed out, a hint of anger in her voice. "Neuropressure helped you before." His hand froze, and he slowly pulled it back. A hurt expression flashed across his face as he began to extract himself from their intimate position. "And neuropressure leads to exploration," he growled, bitterness lacing his voice. "We've already traveled that road, and I'm not eager to be just a damned experiment." T'Pol winced at his well-deserved anger. "I'm sorry," she said softly, once more finding it impossible to meet his eyes. He exhaled loudly, and his aggression melted away. She envied his easy mastery of emotion. "Forget about it," Trip muttered before yawning widely. She watched with poorly concealed fascination. "You are not on duty for another three hours," she told him, earning a slight frown. "Rest." His frown was almost instantly replaced by a gentle smile at her soft tone. "Will you stay?" His question – and the almost bashful way he asked – caught her by surprise. The reply tumbled from her lips before she could prevent it. "Yes." |
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