Missing Scenes from Season Three - The Forgotten

Spoilers: "The Forgotten" and prior episodes in Season 3, and it will probably make little sense without them.

Disclaimers: All things Star Trek belong to CBS/Paramount. "The Forgotten" was written by Chris Black and David A. Goodman.

Content warning: Non-explicit sexual activity. (And no, there will not be an NC-17 version for this one.)

Author's note: An r-rated coda to what I think might be my favorite scene in all of Enterprise. As always, I appreciate any reviews. (Also any edits, if you notice errors, though I intentionally used some run-on sentences in here for reasons that I hope will be obvious.)

"You're the ones to be envied," she told Trip, and she meant it, because even as he'd broken down in tears, she could sense the weight of his sister's death lifting from him. Not for the first time, it struck her that the Humans' greatest weaknesses could also be their greatest strengths. They gave into grief and let it go at the same time. They shared their sorrows, and then moved on. Already there was lightness in him that she hadn't felt in months, as if that tight, dark little compartment where he'd stuffed his grief over his sister's death had just been opened to the air.

Vulcans never opened their compartments. They spent their entire adult lives carefully and methodically maintaining their compartments.

Staring into his tear-stained eyes, she tried to tell herself that if he hadn't unburdened himself to her, it would have been someone else, even though she would have preferred to believe he wouldn't have said any of this to the captain or to Malcolm Reed or to Amanda Cole.

But she knew that was not true. He was a Human. He was a Human who could take solace in many different people, and who would probably turn efficiently back to duty and mission now, as was his habit. She tugged gently on the hand he had grasped, the one she had raised to his shoulder, pulling it back before she would have to suffer the rejection of his letting it go.

But he didn't let it go. He held on, and his eyes darkened.

And she felt a rush of pure excitement. At last.

Their mouths met, and then their tongues were in each other's mouths, and their hands were on each other's faces, and their bodies were entwining in increasing desperation. He lifted her right off the ground and she wrapped her legs around him. Yes, yes, yes. This was what it meant to be alive.

She felt a cold bulkhead at her back but thought nothing of it - the only sensation she cared about at this point was the one of being in direct contact with him. Frustrated, she tugged on the zipper of his uniform.

He grunted and backed away from the wall, then put her down just long enough to shove open a cabin door with his back and pull her into the dark, wrecked crewmen's quarters. He tugged the door closed again, panting in exasperation - it refused to close completely - and then they were at it again, peeling each other out of their clothing, greeting each new centimeter of bare skin with lip and tongue and hand until he turned and brushed a shower of debris off the lower bunk - she didn't dare think whose bunk it was, she didn't care, it didn't matter, especially when he lay her down on it - and then they were both fumbling breathlessly and then

Oh

Oh

Oh the sheer relief of that again. In a distant part of her mind she wondered who was making all that noise and eventually realized it was her, almost sobbing with gratitude even as she broke apart into a thousand perfect pieces and he was groaning with his own release and sinking down next to her on the bunk, one arm and one leg thrown possessively across her.

"Oh, darlin'," he breathed.

She turned her nose into his neck, nuzzling his delectable skin.

Something metallic outside suddenly went crashing and there was a muffled curse and she was staring into the wide eyes of a horrified, mostly naked chief engineer. He sat up, banging his head on the bunk overhead, and desperately pulled up his underwear and uniform - helpfully, he hadn't managed to get completely out of either - and felt around in the near-total darkness for his undershirt. Putting a finger to her lips to warn her to be silent, he called, "Who's there?"

"Ensign Masaro, sir. Lieutenant Hess asked me to bring you this report."

"Um... okay, Masaro. Give me a minute. I kind of ... dozed off in here."

"Sir," Masaro said. He didn't exactly sound convinced.

"I'll take care of it," Trip whispered in her ear, and kissed her quickly before he shoved the door open and then quickly closed it again. "What have you got?" he asked brusquely, and then there was silence as, presumably, he looked at the ensign's report. T'Pol lay there in darkness broken only by the sliver of light coming in from the not-quite-closed door, and tried to quietly wriggle herself back into her cat suit. It helped that she hadn't actually gotten all the way out of hers, either.

How long had they been in here, all told? Twelve minutes? It was certainly quite different than the first time. Not less pleasant, just ... different.

"All right. Let's go take a look," Trip said, a little louder than he needed to for just the ensign, and she could hear their footsteps departing.

She stood up. Where was her undershirt? She finally retrieved it from the floor, and got it back on, then zipped herself back into her cat suit, conscious of stickiness. There was not really any way to clean up.

At the door she paused, listening to ensure the corridor was clear before she wrestled the door open again and made her way into it.

They had very nearly been discovered in the actby a junior officer.

Or had been discovered.

Indeed, how could Masaro not have realized what was going on? Unless, perhaps, he'd just arrived? And his hearing was terrible? Human hearing was quite poor, wasn't it? Even if he'd managed to peer in through the crack of the door, it was dark in here. He couldn't have seen anything, could he?

She hurried to her quarters, overcome with chagrin. Trip had been right, before. They should not be losing focus during a mission this important.

Probably he'd only succumbed to temptation now because he had been in a particularly vulnerable state. And in her post-Trellium-D state, she was also, obviously, still subject to extreme lapses of judgment.

Also, she'd touched him.

Why did she feel that strange hot current of unreasoning excitement when she made contact with him, while contact from others - like Archer earlier, in sickbay - never caused anything more than a mild frisson of warmth, or distaste?

But that didn't bear much thinking about, because it suggested the possibility of something she hadn't previously believed could exist between two Vulcans, let alone between a Vulcan and a Human.

And this whispered thing - for contemporary Vulcan science certainly frowned on the subject - if it did exist, was hardly something Trip would be pleased to learn about. Hadn't she already assured him that their relations would not constitute any significant commitment?

But this was ridiculous. More likely, her post-Trellium-D brain was confusing tactile sensation for something else, conflating the symptoms of one addiction with another.

At least she was successfully giving up the Trellium-D, though Phlox had warned her that the emotions might be with her for some time, possibly even forever.

Perhaps it would be best to give up these encounters with Commander Tucker as well, at least until she had gotten more of her emotional control back.

But how could she do that when everything about him continually beckoned to her?

But that was also ridiculous.

She was not an animal. She could master her primitive mating instincts, especially when they were so entirely inappropriate.

x x x

Her door buzzed later, as she had expected it would. She ignored it. The captain had asked her to review all their information about the spheres, looking for any potential weaknesses, so she had work to do. More importantly, she had temptation to resist.

x x x

One minute later she got the call. "Tucker to T'Pol."

She tabbed the comm. "T'Pol here."

"Why aren't you answering your door?"

"The captain asked me to review our information about the spheres."

"You could have answered the door and told me that."

"Are you not busy yourself?"

"Well, yeah, but..."

"Perhaps another time, then," she said, and closed the connection.

x x x

Five minutes later, her computer monitor signaled the arrival of a message. She tried to ignore it, but found the knowledge that something was sitting there - perhaps from him - distracting, so she opened it.

x x x

FR: Cdr Tucker

I know you're busy, but I scored a REAL vegetarian mushroom risotto ration-pack from the mess hall. Join me for a late dinner later?

x x x

Fr: SubCdr T'Pol

Commander, as I believe you have noted yourself, the mission should be our highest priority right now.

x x x

FR: Cdr Tucker

We both still need to eat.

x x x

Fr: SubCdr T'Pol

Recent evidence suggests that I will be more likely to focus successfully on my work if you are not present. I believe you are the one who first suggested we should focus on our mission. After what happened between us earlier, I am forced to acknowledge the logic of that. I'm sure we can visit any issues that require further discussion once the mission is complete.

x x x

FR: Cdr Tucker

You know, you don't make it very easy for a guy to express his appreciation.

x x x

Fr: SubCdr T'Pol

No such expression is required.

x x x

FR: Cdr Tucker

It is for me. So, I appreciated it. A lot. I also wanted to apologize. I got a little carried away.

x x x

Fr: SubCdr T'Pol

Commander, you must have noticed that you were not alone in that. Given the significant lack of judgment we both showed, however, I think it would be best to avoid any possibility of future unprofessional behavior.

x x x

There was no response for some time after that, so she returned to her work. Seven minutes later, another message chimed.

x x x

FR: Cdr Tucker

We're going to talk about this eventually. Especially if you want that risotto.

x x x

A risotto was something she could easily give up as long as she was giving up so much else. T'Pol began a response designed to put him off, then wondered why she was doing so. As was typical, he had enticed her into more discussion than was either necessary or desired. So she deleted the message she had begun and returned to her study of the data, though she couldn't help remaining alert for another message, or even another buzz at her door.

None came.

She recognized the peculiar feeling of restlessness that ensued as one of those uncomfortable emotional states Phlox had warned her might continue to afflict her for years, possibly even the rest of her life.

She decided that she would have to forgo her study temporarily in favor of more meditation.

Apparently, it was going to require a great deal of mental discipline to avoid waiting, either consciously or unconsciously, for Commander Tucker.