The Gift

Rating: PG
Genre: Episode addition, Drama
Disclaimer: Enterprise belongs to Paramount.
Summary: What T’Pol is thinking during "Similtude".

A/N: I started writing this little piece before the challenge started and since the episode begins with an ‘S’, I really didn’t want to wait that long to post it. LOL. No surprises here, folks. This is just a little brain exercise and a bit of T’Pol introspective. I would like to thank my beta, JustTrip’n, for helping me with this. ***********************************************************

Sub-commander T’Pol rolled on to her back and stared up at the ceiling. She noticed the faint aroma of vanilla still wafting through the air, its delicate scent a reminder of her failed attempts to calm her emotions the previous night. Images of Sim and the words he had spoken simply would not allow her to sleep. She continued to see his face in her mind…continued to hear the sound of his voice playing tenderly in her ears. The visions were so vivid and yet the true meaning behind what he had admitted remained a mystery to her. Perhaps this was why she was so restless.

During his unannounced visit to her quarters, T’Pol had sensed that Sim had wanted to discuss something other than ship’s business. Even she had felt the palpable tension in the air. She’d presumed it had originated from him, that there must have been something of great importance he’d wanted to tell her.

T’Pol closed her eyes on the bed, conjuring up the memory in her mind without difficulty.

"You’re all I think about, if you know what I mean."

T’Pol felt a swell of emotion from the reminder. She attempted to stifle the feelings stirred by the memory of his soft voice and of his genuine confession.

"And the worst part about it is, I don’t know if these feelings are mine…or his."

She could still see his warm blue eyes staring back at her, full of innocence, fear and confusion… all at the same time. During her years spent living with humans, T’Pol had learned to recognize the many emotions often displayed on their faces. She found it fascinating trying to discern the feelings behind every small nuance in their expressions. She’d discovered that Sim was easy for her to read because much of what he revealed was identical to that of Commander Tucker. T’Pol found it surprising that she’d apparently become so familiar with the injured engineer’s facial affectations. She convinced herself that it must have been due to the significant amount of time they’d been forced to spend together during his neuropressure sessions.

The dilemma, she concluded, was that she seemed to be having the very same difficulty now that Sim had been faced with. She was intrigued by what he had told her, but why? Was it because she found Sim fascinating? Or was this really about the commander? Could Trip possibly have feelings for her? It all seemed so illogical. She was merely helping him sleep. He couldn’t possibly…

T’Pol sat up on the bed and stiffened her body in an attempt to ward off her demons and win this latest battle in the ever-present war with her emotions. She inhaled slowly and deliberately, struggling to fend off the feelings that were swirling in her heart, her mind and her body.

She needed to talk to him.

She came to the conclusion that any remaining attempt to obtain rest would likely prove to be fruitless. It was morning now anyway, and today was the day that Sim would offer up his life in order to save that of the chief engineer’s. The situation was complex and unfortunate and the ethics of the matter were . . . questionable. However, T’Pol was fully aware that she could do nothing to alter what would take place. The decision had already been made.

She rose from the bed and dressed in silence. She was still unable to shake the image of Sim’s face from her mind’s eye. Perhaps the emotion she was presently feeling, as it threatened to escape the barriers she’d enclosed around her heart, was regret. Part of her wished that things did not have to happen this way. It would be illogical and human to grieve over what "might have been" for Sim, but even she could not deny that his loss would certainly be felt.

She decided to wait for the proper moment to speak with him. Perhaps later in the day, nearer to the time of the procedure, would be the most appropriate. He would need the comfort and reassurance then.

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T’Pol stepped out into the hallway and made her way gracefully down the corridor toward Commander Tucker’s quarters, where she knew she would find Sim. It almost felt as if this was her duty now and she needed to repay the debt to him in some small measure.

Sim seemed surprised to see her.

T’Pol felt no need to waste any time. Time was precious now.

"I just wanted to say how much your absence will affect the crew," she informed him, desperately attempting to suppress her sadness. "How much it will affect…me."

She gazed back at him, momentarily frozen. He stood before her, now prepared to give his life for Commander Tucker’s. Anatomically speaking, Sim was Charles Tucker III … but there was something different about him, something she couldn’t quite define. He spoke of his emotions with such apparent ease and little attempt at deception. He did not even attempt to deceive himself, something which she’d discovered humans frequently did.

Sim’s hair was combed back and lay smoothly atop his head. There were no errant strands or imperfections to be found. He’d lived an entire lifetime in only eight days and didn’t appear to wear the same emotional scars that most humans who’d aged naturally would have. It made her wonder if perhaps living with the daily burden of so many emotions might somehow shorten a human’s lifespan. There was something pure about him, something untouched.

T’Pol felt something stir inside her. She couldn’t readily define the sensation, but understood only what she seemed to presently desire. Undoubtedly, it was a desire that she should attempt to repress, but for some reason, at this moment, she was simply unable to.

She wanted to say good-bye. She wanted him to know that this sacrifice was appreciated and that his life was valued.

T’Pol moved forward and stood directly before Sim. His eyes lit up as if he were in awe at having her in such close proximity. She somehow recognized the emotions written on his face even though she’d never personally seen the commander express these particular feelings. There was a wonderment and innocence about him that was purely his own and yet, she could tell that he was now resigned to his fate.

"All in all, I guess I’ve had a pretty good life…"

T’Pol leaned in and moved her mouth gently to Sim’s, interrupting his words with a tender caress from her lips. She reminded herself that she was kissing Sim to reward him for his sacrifice, to ease his pain, but she still couldn’t help but wonder about what effect it might have on her. T’Pol closed her eyes and concentrated on the sensations. The feel of his soft skin on her mouth sent an agreeable surge of warmth pulsing through her veins. She allowed herself the brief indulgence of feeling pleasure, though it was a pleasure tempered by unrepressed sadness and inevitable loss. A uniquely odd feeling . . .

T’Pol became acutely aware of her senses. His scent suddenly seemed to pervade the air surrounding them. It was significantly different than that of Commander Tucker’s, but no less agreeable. She placed a hand to his chest and softy stroked his uniform, offering him subtle comfort and support.

The Vulcan science officer wondered at these pleasurable sensations. Was this passion, or a combination of respect; admiration, and . . . potential? The feelings stirred inside her by Sim’s physical presence clearly applied equally to his template. And, yet, this kiss was undoubtedly for Sim.

Their lips parted and he stared back at her, completely unafraid and trusting.

"I couldn’t have asked for a better goin’ away present," he whispered with genuine gratitude.

T’Pol gazed into Sim’s eyes for a long moment, wanting to remember him just like this.