It was just the first day, yet T'Pol was already seized by the most illogical of impulses. This spacial anomaly in which the Enterprise found itself was surely the cause of those impulses, but there was nothing to be done about it, for this region of space was on their route to Azati Prime and had to be traversed no matter the risk, which in this case, was neurological damage, madness and death.
The doctor had previously determined that every member of the crew, save T'Pol had to be sedated, using electronic entrainment technology for the length of the journey through this space. Strictly speaking, Porthos could have been allowed to retain his consciousness, for he was immune to those neurological disorders by virtue of his species, but out of kindness, he was laid in his master's arms and sedated along with the crew. Phlox had determined that only T'Pol was fit to remain conscious for the duration of this journey, though he was apparently mistaken, thought T'Pol, given her symptoms. Still, someone had to stay awake, and someone had to monitor the various ship's systems while in transit, and it just so happened that T'Pol was the one best suited for that task, by virtue of her species, and the lifelong discipline to which all modern Vulcans willingly subjected themselves.
And even though T'Pol performed her tasks conscientiously, it still left her with most of the day and all of the night to her own devices. Unfortunately, when T'Pol tried meditating, she failed badly, and she suspected sleep would be denied her as well, and when she settled for reading as a fallback position, she simply could not muster the requisite ability to focus. Her thoughts were becoming more vivid and demanding of her attention now, even as her control diminished, and these concerns over Trip which were beginning to eat at her, were just another symptom of her degeneration. Startled, she realized that her random wandering about the ship was not so random after all, for just then, she found herself in front of Commander Tucker's quarters.
Surely, she thought, it would be understandable if I just took a quick peek at Trip, to make certain that he's all right.
The Vulcan in T'Pol argued against entering the Commander's private quarters without his knowledge, but the female in T'Pol persuaded the SubCommander to make this small transgression, in order to ease her mind and verify his well being. Every door on the Enterprise was currently closed, but unsecured, so Commander Tucker's door opened automatically as T'Pol drew close, yet she stood in that open doorway for the better part of a minute, before she stepped inside to find Commander Tucker sleeping, as expected.
The man had left a night light on, and it was still shining dimly onto the bed, as T'Pol approached, then touched his forehead, took his pulse, felt his heartbeat, and finally felt reassured. She found it agreeable to look at him now, perhaps because he was bare-chested, so she pulled a chair next to the bed and simply looked at the man as he slept. She'd always found Commander Tucker attractive, but couldn't bring herself to study him as closely as she would have liked to when he was awake due to a self-conscious streak he brought out in her, but here he was, sleeping like an angel, and she could drink in the sight of him at will, in order to quench her thirst. She was close enough to rest her hand on his chest, and she did so now, in order to feel the strength of his heartbeat. That was logical of course, though unnecessary. Still more unnecessary, she ran her hand down his ribs then back to his chest, then down to his stomach, then back to his chest...
Oh, hell, I am molesting Commander Tucker!
If her inability to control her hands around this man was startling enough, it was almost as startling to see the sheet covering the Commander rise, seemingly of its own volition. Of course, thought T'Pol with a sigh. Every other member of the crew slept in their standard work uniform, but trust Commander Tucker to sleep naked, and then, to have the bad taste to shock her by producing an erection. In fairness, worse than the erection, was the man's bed sheet. It featured a cartoon elephant's head which laid strategically atop his groin, the elephant's trunk making promises no human male could possibly honor.
Still, T'Pol was flattered that her touch alone was enough to excite the Commander, and it was not like she had not seen it before... they were lovers, after all. She looked around quickly, before realizing how silly that was on a ship of sleepers, then realized that her very nervousness was another symptom that her mind was under pressure from this region of space. Blushing now, T'Pol raised the sheet to glance at Commander Tucker's, er… Blushing even more, at the thought of him opening his eyes and catching her in this salacious act, or even worse, someone walking in on them, T'Pol quickly covered the Commander Tucker up once more, sheet drawn up to his chin.
The alarm clock on the man's desk caught T'Pol's eye, and she realized she'd spent the better part of an hour in the Commander's quarters. The odd thing was that here, with him, for a time the agitation in her mind receded, but Vulcan self-respect demanded she do something more productive than staring at Commander Tucker like a love struck female. She checked on the rest of the senior staff on the assumption that such a thing would make her visit to Commander Tucker's quarters permissible.
When she checked on Captain Archer she had found that Porthos was cuddled by his master's side, head on Archer's stomach, and T'Pol found Archer's subservient quadruped quite cute in that adorable pose. There was a strip of bacon on Archer's desk, so T'Pol placed it on Archer's stomach, right under Porthos' nose, on the assumption it would aid Archer's canine companion in the pursuit of pleasant dreams.
Next, T'Pol conducted her evening tour of the ship, her agitation returning as she wandered through the empty halls of the Enterprise in search of a purpose. Lacking that, she got some green tea in the mess hall then returned to her quarters to attempt meditation and/or sleep. When both of those failed, and her agitation turned to an anger just barely suppressed, T'Pol took her tea and retreated to the only place of peace on this ship, having walked the short distance to Trip's cabin in her blue silk pajamas.
Looking down at Commander Tucker, T'Pol checked his vital signs once more to set her mind at ease. This had been a mistake, thought T'Pol, this decision to go through the midst of this anomaly, for she could feel her emotions clawing at the mental shields of control that kept them suppressed. Unsure if she should stay, for Commander Tucker often inflamed her emotions, yet unwilling to leave, T'Pol looked about Trip's quarters. She looked at his family photos, pawed through his desk, smelled his bath towels, donned a pair of his leather work gloves and ran them under her pajamas and over her naked body, and generally violated every tenet of good manners when in another's home.
She grasped at straws for any reason to leave and came up blank. Accordingly, she crawled into bed with Commander Tucker and draped herself all over him. Human ships always seemed too cool to Vulcans, and cuddling with Trip was the same as cuddling with a 6'2" constantly hot, water bottle.
Still restless, T'Pol looked at Commander Tucker. He looked so peaceful and she envied him that peace at this time. She ran her fingers through his hair, traced the line of his jaw, ran her hands down his arm to his hand, and entwined her finger with his. Eventually she ran her hands over him once more, and was not surprised, this time, when Trip's body responded... rather, she was flattered.
T'Pol rested her head on Trip's chest now, while her hand grabbed a hold of something she should have probably left alone. Despite her best intentions her hand started gently pulling, twisting, tugging and stroking, seemingly of its own volition as she watched intently and after twenty or thirty minutes of the same, Trip lost control… T'Pol slipped off her silk pajama top and made use of it to dry off the Commander, then tossed it next to her slippers. She and Commander Tucker were certainly due for an awkward confession, once he woke. She finally slept then, but not too long, for a loud bang somewhere in the halls, jerked her awake.
T'Pol slipped out of bed, unsure if the noise had been real, or a figment of her subconscious mind, but given the things they'd gone through so far on the Enterprise, she had no choice but to investigate. As a former member of several special units, T'Pol was a skilled combatant, in both armed and unarmed forms, so she moved cautiously, but fearlessly down the halls, towards the weapons locker. Her rank gave her access to the weapons within and she drew out a phaser rifle. With it held at the ready, she spent the next two hours clearing the ship. Moving through the Enterprise, usually so alive with movement and sound but now as silent and empty as a ghost ship, put T'Pol nerves further on the edge. At the end of it all, she felt foolish, but caution had demanded that she investigate any unusual events.
A last stop in the mess hall for another cup of green tea produced nothing but aggravation, when it refused to dispense tea. Calmly, T'Pol flipped off the safety, and unleashed a half dozen phaser blasts into the beverage dispenser. Now it every reason to malfunction. She moved warily down the halls once more, and crawled in bed next to Commander Tucker, actually moaning with delight when she caught scent of him once more.