Missing Scenes from Season Three: Carpenter Street

SPOILERS: "Carpenter Street" and "Similitude" and it may not make much sense without them.

DISCLAIMER: All things Star Trek belong to CBS/Paramount.  "Carpenter Street" was written by Rick Berman and Brannon Braga.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:  It's not an easy episode to shoehorn Trip and T'Pol into, but I did my best.  Thank you as always, reviewers and beta justTripn[who didn't have to change one word--jT]. 

Reed's men had finished loading the Xindi artifacts into Cargo Bay Two - T'Pol had directed them to use the corner furthest away from the Trellium-D containers - and she had sent the three corpses to sickbay the doctor to process appropriately.  Now Tucker and Reed were discussing how best to secure the items while she gazed distractedly over at the container of Trellium-D ore she had been quietly pilfering over a period of weeks. 

What if the captain wanted to post a guard here?

"You know, maybe you shouldn't be in here," Tucker said, startling her, though she hoped she had not betrayed that reaction with a physical response.  "That's Trellium ore over there."

"I know.  However, I am not concerned."

He squinted at her in obvious confusion.  "Why not?"

"I would feel the effects before it could do any permanent harm.  And at the present time I feel no ill effects.  I believe the stasis containers are quite effective."

"Yeah, well, why push your luck?  Especially when you could let me and Malcolm handle this."  He suddenly grinned.  "Besides, you could use the time to make some sense of this duty roster."  He held it up, clearly hoping she would take it.

She raised an eyebrow.  "How much of this request stems from concern for my well-being and how much from your well-known distaste for the duty roster?"

"I'd say it's about fifty-fifty."  He continued holding it out to her.  "Come on, T'Pol, you know you're a lot better at this than I am." 

Allowing herself a slight frown, she took it.

He smiled.  "Thank you."

"I believe the appropriate Human phrase in this situation would be 'you owe me'."

"Fair enough," he said.  "Now why don't you scoot?  I'll let you know when we're done here."

With a nod at the room's only other current inhabitant, Lieutenant Reed, she walked out into the corridor.  She expected the captain to arrive at any moment from his discussion with Phlox, however, so she decided she would simply work on the duty roster in the corridor. 

As usual, it was simply a matter of making minor adjustments due to unexpected disabilities, such as Ensign Masaro's unfortunate accident in the gym involving one thumb and two hand weights.

Also as usual, Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed were underestimating the range of her Vulcan hearing, although in this case she supposed they might reasonably have concluded she had left the area.  This could explain why Reed did not even attempt to lower his voice as he called out, "So does our first officer look hot in leather, or what?"

"Malcolm." Tucker's tone was half-warning, half-amused. 

"You don't think she looks hot?"

"She's always hot.  Vulcans have a higher body temperature than we do."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know what you meant."

"And?"

After a moment, Tucker said, "I was kind of tempted to ask her if she knew she was wearing tanned animal hides, but I decided I'd better not."

She looked down at her jacket in surprise.  She had assumed the quartermaster would know better than to offer something that offensive to a Vulcan.  Apparently she had assumed too much.  Or perhaps Tucker was wrong.  In her experience, Humans often felt compelled to shape synthetic materials to resemble others.  This particular substance did appear to have unusual heft and durability, however, as one might perhaps expect of a creature's preserved epidermis.

Inside the room, Reed said, "Exercising your better judgment when you could have a poke at T'Pol?  That's not like you."

"She'd just tell me it was the perfect way to blend into our primitive culture."

"I guess there's no need to argue with her anymore, if you already know what she's going to say."

There was a long silence.  Perhaps Tucker was as nonplussed as she was by the lieutenant's observation.    T'Pol pulled out her scanner and scanned the sleeve of her jacket.  She was disheartened to discover that it was indeed made from the skin of a dead animal.  She resisted the urge to free herself from it immediately; such haste was hardly logical now. 

She would have to emphasize that particular Vulcan taboo to the quartermaster.  Unfortunately, the quartermaster was, in Tucker's own words, "a bit sensitive."

Maybe he could explain it for her.  It would pay his debt over the duty roster.  Which, she suddenly realized, she still hadn't completed.  She turned back to the task.

Inside the room, Tucker said, "I think the best solution here is to set up a secure partition.  Hand me that scanner."

There was a long silence, during which T'Pol checked to see if any crewmen had logged shift change requests.  And yes, once again Crewman Rostov and Crewman Kelly were requesting changes that would put them on the same duty shift.  She made a mental note to consult the commander about it.

"Actually," Tucker said, "I think T'Pol's been avoiding me, since, well ... since I came back to the land of the living thanks to a dead clone."  Another sigh.  "I think I may have said something that was less than polite."

"You?  I'm shocked."

Reed's ironic tone was surely warranted.  Tucker had remained prickly and reclusive for days after waking from his coma.  However, she was hardly "avoiding" him.  She just had no particular reason to see him.

Reed said, "Actually, it might not be you at all.  When he was a teenager Sim had a pretty obvious crush on her."

She frowned in consternation.  Of what relevance could that possibly be?

Inside the room there was nothing but silence. 

Finally, Tucker said, "And you were going to tell me this when?"

"I didn't think it mattered.  As he grew older, he got over it, or seemed to.  And they worked together all the time.  If it was ever an issue between them, I never noticed."

Another long silence. 

Reed was correct.  Except for making it clear that he had feelings for her, Sim had never pressed the issue.  He had been, as Tucker himself had so often put it, a 'perfect gentleman'."

Reed's voice came again: "Why don't you just ask her about it?"

"I'm sure as hell not going to ask her about THAT."

"Well, what in God's name do you talk about during all those 'neuro-pressure' sessions?"

"We haven't had any since the accident."

"You haven't?  Why not?"

This time she actually turned to the door, eager to hear the answer.

Tucker said, "She asked me early on when I was still kind of ... you know, freaked out at the whole clone thing ... and I said no."

"So tell her you've changed your mind."

"I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"One, I'm sleeping okay, for the most part.  So it's not like a matter of life and death.  Two ... I just can't.  Maybe she likes not having the smelly Human in her quarters every night.  It'd be like I'm inviting myself over to dinner for the twenty-fifth time in a row.  At a certain point, it's just rude."

"What's rude to us might not be rude to her.  Besides, she could just say no."

Silence.  Lieutenant Reed was being most logical.  Not that she would say no.  A well-rested Chief Engineer was a significant benefit to ship and crew.  

Also, she missed him.

Reed's voice turned sly.  "Maybe that's why you haven't asked."

Tucker ignored him and instead got on the com to his department, requesting that Lieutenant Hess detail two crewmen to construct a set of security panels with specifications he was now transmitting.

Reed said, "And I can't imagine she would say no."

"Look.  Why don't we just focus on the job at hand, okay?"

"Aye aye, sir."

"And put that damned smirk away."

"Any surprises?"  The captain had arrived.

T'Pol turned, startled once again.  She usually heard and smelled him approaching, but only now did she become aware of the strong odor of beagle intermixed with Archer's own unique scent - which had, thankfully, been greatly reduced by a shower and a change into a fresh uniform. 

"None that I am aware of," she said. 

Archer was looking a little oddly at her, perhaps because of how he had found her, situated towards a closed door.  "Commander Tucker suggested I should not spend too much time in the same room as the Trellium-D," she said.  "He also asked me to look over the duty roster."

Archer smiled.  "Smart guy.  Why don't you go ahead and finish it while I check in with them?  I'll see you back on the Bridge after you've had a chance to change."

"Agreed," she said, pleased at the opportunity to remove the repulsive jacket.

x x x

Late that night, when yet another evening had passed without any appearance or word from Tucker about neuro-pressure, T'Pol sat in front of her monitor and composed a message:  Commander, I believe it is past time we resumed your neuro-pressure sessions.  Please let me know when you are available.

His reply came almost immediately:  I don't want to take up too much of your personal time,T'Pol, especially when I'm sleeping pretty well again.  How's three times a week sound?  MWF?

She was tempted to point out that if he were indeed sleeping well, he would be sleeping rather than responding to a message at 2400 hours.  But instead she typed: Agreed.

Three times a week was hardly sufficient, in her opinion, but perhaps it would have to do.