Therapy 3

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Codes: A/T'P friendship PG-13, drug use

Author's note: Without the encouragment of Monica, this part wouldn't have been completed. She is a saint. I know I've probably frustrated her to the point that she's pulled hairs out at times. I consider her a muse and good friend. This is not betad, mistakes are my own.

“We have emotions… but we deal with them and do not let them control us.” - Spock (TAS: Yesteryear)

The sound of muffled voices… shapes blocking the light above from her eyes…the smell of someone familiar… fragmented details that reached through the haze of medication, beyond the numbness of her body, and into her mind. In her head, emotions and sensations wandered blindly through the fog, as soon as they appeared, they faded away. Shadows passed by the curtain that surrounded her. Were they speeding up, or was she slowing down? The tingling of her skin interrupted that thought. Her eyes closed under their heaviness. As she fell further into darkness, a hand brushed hers.

The memories came to visit her many times during her time in sickbay. Freed from the hidden places where she trapped them, they ran rampant through her mind. She pulled on the bindings on her arms and legs but could not escape them.

A man lay at her feet. His eyes pleaded to her for mercy, but she could not control her body. She watched her finger press the trigger of a weapon, and a beam of light engulfed him. Her mouth opened to scream, but the sound would not escape. The straps on her wrists bit into her flesh as she lunged off her bed. Voices yelled back and forth over her screams. Hands pushed down hard on her shoulders. She heard a hiss against her neck. Coldness flowed through her crashing into her brain…

He would not leave her alone. Taunting her from the shadows, he never revealed his face to her. She dreaded his visits the most, out of all the ones that she faced. Over the years, he had been her strength. But her fevered mind contorted him, giving birth to something that used all her weaknesses and all her secrets to break her down. She knew it was not him, he would never do this to her. But his words cut through her fragile grip on logic, and scraped the hole in her chest raw, reopening the wound. The crew, herself, him, she had failed everyone with her actions. Regret and anger seeped inside her. Surrendering, she drowned in the flood of emotions. A tear escaped the corner of her eye and rolled down her cheek.

Her name repeated through the silence. Her shoulders shook, and she realized it was not from her tears. She opened her eyes and saw him leaning over her.

“Leave me alone!” she cried out, searching for some way to escape him.

He stared down at her. His eyebrows knitted in confusion, and his hands froze on her shoulders.

As her string of protests turned into choked sobs, his hands never left her.

“It’s okay. There’s nothing to be afraid of. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

His hand stroked her hair back from her forehead. Blinking back the moisture in her eyes, she studied his face. Worry, caring, patience, understanding… it was him. She relaxed under his touch. Her mouth opened trying to find the words to say to him.

“Rest. You need it. We’ll have time to talk later.”

He examined her face for a few long moments. Then he released her shoulders and stepped back away from her. He stood watching her, until exhausted she surrendered to sleep.

******

“T’Pol. Can you hear me?”

T’Pol’s eyes opened. Squinting, she tried to focus the hazy world around her. The distorted figure above her gradually took shape. Dr. Phlox. She tilted her head away from him, taking in her surroundings. Fragments of events from her stay in sickbay floated in her head. She struggled to make sense of it all, but the memories remained disjointed.

T’Pol looked back at Dr. Phlox. She tried to speak. The inflamed tissue of her throat choked back her voice. A memory of screaming in Vulcan at hallucinations surfaced and she realized why it was.

Awareness of the rest of her body slowly returned. Her body radiated a dull pain, and felt drained of energy. Her body trembled underneath her gown and the sickbay sheets. She attempted to will them to stop, but couldn’t. Panic rose inside her. It ate through her defenses easily, overwhelming her with its intensity. Confusion and fear drowned out her thoughts. She looked past Phlox, up at the ceiling until the feelings subsided.

“Doctor.” she managed to whisper through her chapped lips. T’Pol lifted her head up from the pillow. Before she could raise her shoulders, a shooting pain behind her eyes protested.

Phlox gently guided her back down with a hand on her forearm.

“Try to remain still for a while longer.”

T’Pol relaxed back onto the biobed.

“How long… ” her voice cracked and trailed off.

Phlox replied in a neutral tone, “Four days and 7 hours.”

“The procedure?”

Phlox paused collecting his thoughts. “It appears to be a success. There are only trace amounts of trellium D left in your system. The deposits are stored in your liver and kidneys. Those should leach out of over the next week.”

“While you were unconscious, I monitored your brain activity. The readings are quite promising. You appear to have suffered no permanent brain damage from your trellium use.”

T’Pol lay silent absorbing what he told her. Her eyes followed the movements of Phlox’s hands and shoulders, and judged each expression on his face. She sensed hesitation in his voice. She wondered if the doctor was searching for a way to tell her bad news. She did not need reassuring words to disguise the truth. She needed to know what she could expect.

T’Pol asked in a flat, controlled voice. “Doctor, is there more that you need to tell me?”

“When you began using trellium D, your brain modified your nerve synapses to accept it. The trellium took the place of a naturally occurring enzyme, one that helps to regulate your emotional state. Your brain will still have that enzyme to utilize. But the levels of it are nowhere near the amount of the trellium you injected. You will experience mood swings and other lingering psychological effects while your body adjusts.”

Phlox looked at his patient, she appeared to be taking the news in her usual Vulcan fashion. Her control surprised him. Last night, she moved past her more violent outbursts, but her fever and confusion continued unabated until this morning. Phlox’s eyes passed over T’Pol’s wrists. Cuts and bruises green with dried blood marred her pale skin. Despite his distaste at using restraints on patients, he deemed it necessary for both of their safety. Now that she was more cooperative, he could treat those wounds. The wounds below the surface would take longer to heal.

“What amount of time will my body need to adjust?”

Phlox looked down, unable to find a satisfactory answer, he said. “I can’t be certain. It could be a matter of days, weeks, or even months…”

T’Pol felt a sudden wave of frustration at the doctor’s words. Couldn’t he take into account all the variables and calculate a probable time frame?

“I’m sorry. Since you are the first patient I’ve had with this condition, I can’t give you a more definite answer.”

Her emotions subsided as she realized the truth of his statement.

“Do you have any more questions?” Phlox took her silence as a no. “I will keep you under observation in sickbay for the time being. I’ll be back in an hour to give you a dermal treatment for your skin abrasions. If you need anything, I won’t be far away.”

Dr. Phlox left T’Pol to tend to the other inhabitants of sickbay who were currently waiting for their morning feeding. Captain Archer wanted to see T’Pol the moment she regained consciousness, but he would have to wait. Once his patient was hydrated, and he was certain she could handle the conversation, he would notify the captain.

*****

He didn’t know what he expected to see, but he didn’t expect to see T’Pol like this. Her skin looked almost translucent against her blue medical gown. Weary eyes took in his appearance, recognition softening their gaze. Angry green veins snaked across her eyes testifying to the strain of the past few days.

T’Pol’s trembling arms slowly pushed her body up. Seeing stubborn determination on her face, Archer waited patiently for her to sit up facing him. T’Pol stared down at the floor for several moments composing herself. She shifted her body, straightened her spine, and brought her chin up until she looked directly in his eyes.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“I am experiencing the after effects of the procedure… I believe I can say I am fine.” She didn’t sound fine to Archer’s ears, the strength of her voice seemed sapped. The rough grating tone gave him a sense of déjà vu. He remembered hearing the same one after the Seleya mission in this very room.

“That’s good to hear.” He said, trying to look convinced.

Archer replayed the events since the Seleya mission over in his head. Were there signs he dismissed? Like all the other times he thought of this over during the past four days, he came to the same conclusion. Yes.

Each time, T’Pol recovered quickly making him believe her control was intact. Absorbed in the mission, he couldn’t see past the facade she wanted him to see. Now with that illusion shattered, he saw the fragmented woman left behind. All the things that made her T’Pol: her strength, logic, control, and confidence stripped away, leaving a woman desperate to hold on to what remained.

Realizing he had been silent for several minutes, he looked down at the floor. What did he come here to say to her? He thought through his words at least seven times before coming here. Looking into her eyes, he saw her bracing herself for whatever he would say. Now that he was here in front of her, the words he’d mulled over in his head sounded all wrong.

His voice remained calm as he said, “Phlox told me you should take a few days off to allow your body time to adjust. I think that’s a good idea.” he paused taking in her expression, “Whenever you and the Doctor think you are well enough, you can resume your post.”

Archer saw a surprised look cover T’Pol’s face. “Why?”

“Excuse me?”

“Why are you allowing me to resume my duties? I initiated a dangerous experiment without your knowledge or consent. I failed to weigh the possible risks to the crew and myself. I failed in my responsibilities as first. Regulations state I should be relieved of duty pending a court martial.”

What could he tell her? He silently replied. Yes T’Pol, you screwed up. You risked the crew, the mission, and your life out of some misguided notion that you could build up immunity to trellium. I trusted you to consult me before running off and doing something this dangerous. Now I don’t know if I can trust my first officer anymore… Maybe I’m being too lenient on you. Maybe I’m letting my closeness to you affect this decision. All I know is that you’re still the best damn science officer on this ship. And I need you.

He decided to tell her the abbreviated truth, “I don’t care what the regulations state. If this mission is to succeed, I need the best person at every station. I need my science officer back.”

Archer looked at T’Pol, trying to figure out what she was thinking. T’Pol turned her head away from him, her eyes focused inward. Archer leaned closer to her. Resting his hands on her shoulders, he tried to give her some reassurance. He felt her arms shivering under his hands. The feel of his touch broke through to her. Her eyes met his. Archer swallowed as he saw the uncertainty in her eyes. Archer reluctantly dropped his hands to his side, but kept his eyes locked with hers.

“The only thing you need to focus on right now is recovering. Take as long as you need. If you need someone to talk to, I could listen. When you’re ready to come back, contact me.”

Archer waited to see if she had anything else to say. He turned walking away from the biobed.

“Captain.”

Archer stopped mid-stride and turned back towards her.

“Yes?”

“Thank you”

Archer stood for a moment unsure of what to say. “There’s no need to thank me.”

Closing the curtain behind him, Archer walked out sickbay. He wondered if he would regret his decision later. If T’Pol’s recovery failed to go as well as the doctor expected, she may not be able to perform her duties any more. Before he allowed her back, he would make sure she was ready to come back. T’Pol needed time to adjust, and he would make sure she had however long she needed.

*****

Something inside her pinned her down to her bed. Her will to move had been sapped out of her body along with her strength. Tremors shook her body, and chattered her teeth. Sweat coated her skin, seeped through her nightclothes, and soaked the bare mattress below her. The sheets, which had itched her newly sensitive skin, lay in a tangled heap at the end of the bed.

T’Pol’s eyes starred blankly at the ceiling. The room did not exist to her. Only the struggle in her mind mattered. Feelings, thoughts, and memories weaved their way through T’Pol’s conscious mind. With each breath she attempted to let go of them. But they overwhelmed her and took her away from the calmness of her meditation.

T’Pol shifted her attention from the ceiling, and looked out the viewport at the passing stars thinking. It had been three days since she regained consciousness in sickbay. Those days blurred into mind-numbing similarity. T’Pol would lie in bed trying to bring order to her mind. She would break to pick through the meals Phlox delivered, then fall back into her bed and try again. Her body would eventually call her back to the world. At the end of the day exhaustion would force her to rest.

All her efforts amounted to nothing. She realized that. Despair and helplessness created hollow ache in her chest. The feelings rose up through her, and started a sharp throbbing pain behind her eyes. The pain snapped T’Pol out of her stupor. She walked on shaky limbs to the bathroom.

Cool water splashed against her face. It felt good against her skin, but it did nothing for the pain. She knew what would really help the pain, but she couldn’t have it. No matter how much she still craved it.

T’Pol eyes flew open, and she dropped her hands away from her face. She looked into the mirror in front of her as is she hadn’t seen her face before. Her skin was a pale. Green blood flushed her cheeks, and surrounded her eyes in dark circles. Sweat matted her hair against her forehead.

When was the last time she really looked at herself? She looked in the mirror during her morning routine, but she didn’t stop to look beyond the reflection. Even in her meditations, she wouldn’t go beneath the chaotic emotions and see herself. If she did, she would have to acknowledge the whole truth. She thought of herself as a victim of an experiment gone wrong. It was much more than that.

I am an addict.

At some point she had stopped wanting trellium D and started needing it. It took control away from her, and started driving her. She thrived on the sensations, pleasure, and emotion it opened up to her.

It all had a price. The control she built in her mind lay crumbled around her. T’Pol focused on that thought. If her mind had been dramatically changed, then logically she would need to change her techniques or find new ones. She would have to start as a Vulcan child would and work to build her control from the foundation up.

T’Pol turned heading for her meditation pillow. She arranged her legs in full lotus. Closing her eyes, she began a breathing exercise her mother made her practice when she was three years old. She counted each inhalation and exhalation. When a feeling or thought made her loose count, she began again.

*****

Four Days Later

T’Pol exhaled slowly. The candle on the floor in front of her flickered causing the fabric of her robes to shimmer in the darkness of her quarters. The glow of the flame painted her face in light and shadow.

An emotion intruded upon her peace. Instead of ignoring it or trying to repress it, she studied it and named it. Guilt. T’Pol followed the strand of emotion deep down to its source. Her chest tightened as she experienced the memories behind the emotion. She noted that reaction, and the others that followed.

T’Pol’s eyes averted from the flame. This type of meditation was strenuous, but worth it. Once she understood her feelings they had less power over her. She knew what to expect, and could stop her reactions before they started. Her control wasn’t perfect, but she was no longer defined by her emotions.

She leaned over and blew her meditation candle out. Picking up her robes, she stood and walked over to the comm. panel.

“T’Pol to Captain Archer” she said in a level voice.

A startled voice answered hers “Archer here.”

“Captain, may I speak with you?”

“I’m not busy at the moment. Do you want to talk in person?”

“If it is not inconvenient.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Come to the ready room whenever you’re ready.”

“Yes captain. I will be there in ten minutes. T’Pol out.”

******

The ready room doors swished open exactly ten minutes later. Archer repressed a grin. Just like the T’Pol he knew. As T’Pol entered the room, he took in her appearance. Her red body suit was perfectly pressed. Her boots shined under the overhead lights. No hair on her head looked out of place. She looked exactly as she did two weeks ago.

“Come in T’Pol. Have a seat.”

T’Pol moved gracefully over to the chair in front of his desk and sat down. A neutral expression covered her face. She looked directly into his eyes waiting for him to continue.

Archer was stunned by the contrast between the T’Pol before him, and the T’Pol he last saw in sickbay. She exuded strength and control in her movements and expressions. Over the years, he had learned to watch her carefully. Her emotional state could be betrayed in many of the subtle expressions he had observed.

“So what do you need to talk about?” Archer knew she’d either come her to take him up on his offer to talk, or to ask if she could have her post back.

“Captain, you told me to contact you when I am ready to return to duty.”

“Why do you think you are ready?”

He wanted to believe things were back to normal with his first officer. But he needed to hear it from her. He watched her gather her thoughts for a few seconds.

“After my release from sickbay, I meditated in my quarters. Through my meditations I was able to reestablish control over my emotions.”

A precise, unemotional answer. He knew it couldn’t have been that simple. He’d seen her go through hell in sickbay. He couldn’t imagine how hard it had been on her since then.

“So you think you are ready to take up the responsibilities of first officer, and to command this ship if necessary?”

T’Pol continued to look him in the eyes, her expression a perfect mask.

“Yes captain.”

Archer let a small smile break out over his face. “Then, all I think that’s left to do is to make this official. Report to sickbay. After you get a clean bill of health, you’re free to return to duty.”

T’Pol’s eyes softened slightly at his words. He guessed from relief.

Archer dismissed her, and she stood up and walked towards the door. Archer’s voice stopped her mid stride.

“T’Pol.” She turned back towards him.

“Welcome back.”

She replied, “Thank you captain.” before she exited the ready room.

Part 4

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