Counting Down to Zero by Rigil Kent Rated: PG … mild language and adult situations. Disclaimer: I own a big fat nothing.  Not my hopes.  Not my dreams.  Nothing. Genre: Drama, Episode Addition, Romance Summary: "Countdown" episode addition.  For Sub-Commander T'Pol, twelve hours is an eternity... A/N: Fair advice: this week is turning out to be utterly insane at school, and next week is shaping up to be even worse. Although I've got most of the rest of this fic done (not including the final chapter), I'm not likely to be online much in order to post it, so apologies in advance Z Minus Five "Phlox to Commander Tucker." A hungry sehlat was devouring an oversized peach in decon while Porthos watched from the command chair when the unexpected communication jolted T'Pol awake.  She blinked the impossible scenario away, once more finding herself bitterly angry at her foolishness.  Before the trellium, she could remember only dreaming once before in her sixty-five years, and even that had been an aberration brought on by atrocious judgment and misplaced trust. From his place underneath her, Trip shifted slightly, reaching toward the comm panel that was just above the bunk with one hand.  His other arm, T'Pol realized with some slight surprise, was still draped across her back.  A flash of embarrassment washed through her at the intimacy of their position; with her lying partially atop him, she was instantly reminded of the night when she bared herself before him. "This is Tucker."  He sounded remarkably alert, and at a glance, T'Pol could see that he had been awake before the doctor's hail.  She frowned slightly. "Ah, Commander."  The doctor's voice sounded hollow as it emerged from the small wall unit.  "I was wondering if you have spoken with Sub-Commander T'Pol.  I can't seem to find her."  Trip gave her a questioning look, once again proving that his honor was without reproach; a lesser man would have readily admitted her presence in his bed, regardless of the reasons, yet he hesitated to allow her control of the decision.  At her nod, he pressed the transmit button once more. "I am here," she declared calmly.  Phlox was already aware of her irrational attraction to the commander, even if they were not once more the central topic in ship's gossip.  Lorian had seen to that.  "Do you require my presence?" "No, no," She could almost envision the doctor's cheerful smile.  "I was simply making sure that you were ... all right."  The concern in Phlox's voice was instantly noticed by Trip, and the engineer gave her a questioning – and concerned – look. She ignored it. "Is there anything else, Doctor?" she asked sharply, suddenly tired of her continuing deceit.  If she were stronger, she could tell Trip about the trellium, or her terrifying dreams of harming him, or how she had endangered herself and the crew by experimenting with her emotional control.  But she wasn't strong enough. She wondered if she would ever be strong enough. "No," Phlox replied, evidently picking up on her tone.  "Phlox out." A moment passed in silence as she struggled with her guilt and fear.  Phlox had told her to seek someone else's assistance for emotional support, and had even asked – obliquely, of course – if she wanted him to relay certain elements of her addiction to Tucker beforehand.  It was unlikely that Trip wasn't even more suspicious now, what with the doctor's unexpected comm and her even more unexpected appearance in his bed.  She glanced up, meeting his concerned eyes. "You know," Trip said softly, "he's gonna think we're ..."  He gestured with his free hand as he trailed off, an expression of embarrassment on his face. "Doctor Phlox is discreet," she replied without thinking.  As Tucker tensed slightly, T'Pol recognized the innuendo in her comment and silently chastised herself.  Once more, she was tempted to blame Trip; around him and him alone, she found herself acting and speaking without thinking.  It was unacceptable, and T'Pol found herself struggling with another flash of anger. "You don't say," Tucker muttered.  He had an interesting expression on his face, one that T'Pol had thought was reserved exclusively for difficult engineering problems that he was attempting to solve.  Not for the first time, she wished she knew what he was thinking.  "Why did you come here tonight?" Trip asked abruptly, catching her off balance with the question.  She should have expected – she had expected it – yet the question still surprised her. "I ... don't know," she prevaricated.  It wasn't entirely a lie – she still didn't understand the hold he seemed to have on her – but it wasn't the truth either.  The truth was more complicated than she wanted to face, and she didn't know how he would react. "I can't help you," Trip said softly, his eyes locked on hers, "if you're not honest with me."  He sounded sad as he spoke, and perhaps disappointed as well.  T'Pol looked away, suddenly uncomfortable with the conversation.  She needed to meditate. "You need to rest," T'Pol reminded him.  It was a clear change of subject, and she caught the flash of frustrated anger that briefly crossed his face.  His expression hardened almost instantly, and T'Pol realized how much she missed his real smile, not this poor substitute. "I'm fine," he replied with false good cheer.  He began shifting slightly on the bunk, with the clear intent of getting up.  For a moment, T'Pol seriously considered making him remain in bed with her.  It would be easy to accomplish, and would only require her to kiss him.  Her ears warmed, as memories of their coupling returned, but she made no effort to stop him.  Trip paused briefly at the doorway leading to his bathroom, and she could see that he wanted to say something but could not find the words.  Instead, he studied her for a long moment, his eyes seeming to bore into her katra.  Without further comment, he disappeared through the doorway and, moments later, the shower activated. There was no mistaking his unspoken invitation. She wanted to join him, wanted to feel his lips against her skin, and the coolness of his body against hers under the hot water, but found herself unable to move.  The nightmare flashed across her mind's eye, and T'Pol gasped softly at the sudden fear that pulsed through her veins.  He deserved better than her, she lamented.  Better than a foolish addict who couldn't control her emotions and broke down under intense stress.  She closed her eyes, and fought to recover her control. You'll never fully recover. The words of her future self sent a wave of self-loathing and anger through her, and T'Pol slid from the bed.  For another long moment, she stared at the open doorway leading to the bathroom.  The pitch of the sounds emerging from the room changed, an indication that Trip had stepped into the shower.  If she closed her eyes, T'Pol could remember the shower that they had shared following their mating.  It had been Trip's suggestion, and had quickly led to another exploration of human sexuality.  She swallowed, as memories of Trip's hands upon her neck sent phantom sensations through her nerve endings.  She wanted to feel that again, wanted to forget that they were hurtling toward probable death and that the captain was doing the same in a different direction.  Through the open doorway, T'Pol could see her distorted reflection in the bathroom mirror as it slowly fogged over, and she inhaled sharply at the trellium addicted monster that, if just for a moment, gazed back at her. T'Pol fled. Back to Chapter 3 Continue to Chapter 5

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