You guys, this story is way the longest thing I've ever written and it's still going with no end in sight. Which is insane. But cool? There's a cliffhanger. Because I'm mean. Also..... should people show interest, I have started a Star Trek XI story set in the Animal universe. If you want me to post it, I will. If not, I might anyway because I'm just like that. I really appreciate all of your feedback and for sticking with me even if I take forever to post. The coming semester I may be slow again because of big classes (omg.. Old English grad seminar yikes). But I'm not giving up, still have plenty of ideas, and if I stop working on this story pirate Malcolm might come to arrest me or something. Enjoy, and please review. :D

Part 16

T'Pol had never observed Jon eating before. She noted that it took on a ritual-like appearance. Frequently when she visited him, she brought food with her as well because she saw that Zane cared little for the well-being of his slaves other than that they were functional, and certainly Salt and Pepper had other things on their mind. Twice daily rations, if that, did not seem enough to sustain a large man like Jon.

She always gave him food in a package because Vulcans found the handling of food with their bare hands to be distasteful. Upon receiving the package, Jon inspected it. He turned it over in his hands and then sniffed it, while keeping his attention also on her. T'Pol only stood to the side with her hands behind her back and watched as he tore into the packaging to get to the meat and the protein enriched bread.

When he retreated into the corner of his cell, she didn't move, not at first. Jon slid down to the ground as far back as he could squeeze his broad shoulders into the meeting of the two walls, and he sniffed the meat again before he ripped off a piece with his teeth. He held it with both hands and kept the bread on his lap as he pulled his knees up closer to his chest. She recognized it as his safe position.

Slowly T'Pol began to approach. She watched his eyes dart up immediately to watch her, but his pace of devouring the piece of meat didn't slow any. He reminded T'Pol of a tamed sehlat, much like the one that she had in her youth. It was the way that he looked at her. Jon was always gentle towards her, but she was sure that if she got too close he might actually lash out or even bite her hand if she tried to take it away. Instead, she crouched down in front of him and held her hands up in a neutral manner.

There was the faintest change in his gaze that allowed her to sit down. There were times when she visited that she spoke to him about things—possibly things he didn't understand or care about, and she really didn't know if he was listening or not, but the fact that he was there and to some degree that he could never repeat anything she said was what drew her. But there were other times, in a much larger frequency than the times when she would talk, that they would sit with each other in silence. T'Pol found that with Jon, she didn't always need words to communicate. He was extremely expressive when she knew what to look for, and she felt certain that he was learning to read her too.

He picked up the large piece of bread and smelled it first, but then he broke a section of it off and looked over at her. T'Pol was surprised to see the change in the ritual, and she was even more surprised when Jon held the piece out to her.

She raised both eyebrows. "That is yours."

Jon extended his arm again more sharply and she could hear his breathing shorten just a little. He looked frustrated that she didn't take it, and he insisted again, holding the piece of bread out to her.

It would be pointless to explain to him that Vulcans didn't touch food with their hands and that she had brought the bread for him. It wasn't that he wouldn't understand, but that he was very insistent that she take the bread, and reluctantly she reached out to do so.

When he saw that she had it, he relaxed a little back into his cover and took a bite out of his piece of bread. But Jon kept his eyes on her to see what she would do.

She looked down at the bread in her hands for a moment, realizing how much it meant to him. Jon was holding his food close, and that look he had earlier, afraid she would take it away. But he gave her some—he trusted her enough to give her some of his food. Slowly she took a bite of the bread and looked over at him for approval.

The tension in Jon's body eased and he let his legs slid away so he wasn't curled up so tightly, then he smiled.

Typically when T'Pol went anywhere with Jon, he was the one leading her ahead by her hand, but today T'Pol led Jon. It was a new experience for him because this was T'Pol's territory. Jon wasn't often allowed outside of his cell on ships unless it was for training or for some kind of work. And he preferred it that way because there was something in his mind that he couldn't explain that told him that space travel was dangerous. He considered that it could be a warning left over from the Before-Time.

But T'Pol was safe, and he trusted her as a Food Sharer, so he went along with her, holding onto her hand tightly. He hadn't seen much of Zane's ship and it was big; he didn't want to get lost if he got separated from her because that would lead to punishment. He didn't think that T'Pol would let him get lost though.

She was different from the other Vulcans he knew because she came back and she didn't ask anything of him, which was rare in of itself. That was why she was a Food Sharer; she didn't want anything from him, she just came. Most Vulcans felt cold to him. T'Pol's hands were warm and soft.

They weren't accompanied by anyone, not the tall Vulcan who was always with her, and not even Salt and Pepper. Jon didn't want to think that this might be a change in her pattern, that she might be doing something different or bad, because he wanted to keep her this way. But he carried too many memories to forget what others had done to him.

But when she brought him to an unusual door, Jon's curiosity won out over his memories, and he walked through first into the empty room, letting her follow this time. It wasn't a large room, though there was plenty of room to move and it was bigger than a few cells put together. There was a large oval shape raised out of the floor in the middle for sitting on and he walked around it as he headed for the most impressive window that stood from floor to ceiling, slanted to give more space, and it wrapped from one side of the room to the other in a half circle, looking outward.

Jon placed his free hand on the window and looked out at the stars that shot by them, painting a trail in their wake. There were thousands of streaks in the window, thousands of stars and planets and systems that they were passing by and to see them all at once as they disappeared off into the distance as soon as they had come…was captivating. He didn't let go of T'Pol's hand, but his focus was solely on the view of the stars outside of their ship.

She moved up beside him next to the window and kept her hand comfortably in his. "This is the observation deck. I thought that you might find it interesting."

Looking over at her, he let out a short breath in what could have been a laugh, and he smiled anyway, before he stepped closer to the window, as close as he could get without touching it. Not even the warning of the danger of space from the Before-Time was enough to pull him away from the window. Jon's blood pulsed through his body at the same speed as the passing stars because he had the strong desire to be part of them.

They sat on the oval for a long time and watched the space outside. T'Pol was quiet, but Jon could feel her sitting next to him. He pointed out things that caught his interest; bigger stars, brighter stars, blue ones and red ones, but she was still quiet, just remaining next to him. He wasn't bored with watching the stars when he transferred his attention and looked over at her.

Vulcans were difficult to read, and Jon often had trouble knowing what to look for with signs of danger or punishment, which were most important. T'Pol wasn't easy to read, but she was more open. It was her eyes. He could see bright stars in her eyes sometimes that told him what to look for. The rest of her face was calm and emotionless, but her eyes told him that she was curious, and perhaps concerned.

She expressed that she was pleased he liked the room. She talked about a few other things, but Jon didn't answer. He looked back to the stars a couple of times, but then he looked at her eyes. Talking wasn't really how she communicated with him, it was a secondary medium, used for clarification and specifics.

He watched her draw in a deep breath and then she spoke again. "Do you trust me?"

A Food Sharer was an ultimate sign of trust, but he didn't have any means of presenting it here. He had showed her earlier in the cell, and his trust hadn't changed. Jon nodded his head.

T'Pol moved to face him a little more, touching her knee against his. "Do you trust that I will not harm you?"

Slowly, he nodded again, more curious than afraid of her. He did trust that T'Pol wouldn't hurt him. She was Good.

"Then I must know," she said with a deep breath and brought a hand to the side of his face. "Do not be afraid."

He knew what she was doing then, and his body tensed. This had happened before. The first thing that greeted T'Pol when she entered his mind was fear.

Fear was an unusual emotion for her, especially at this strength, and it pushed her back some, but she kept going further. His ability to form mental blocks was not very strong, because of his lack of experience in mental discipline that a Vulcan or other telepathic species might have. The entrance into his mind was only hindered by the fear, and once she made it past that, T'Pol found herself standing in the network of Jon's mind.

She was herself, standing on a white surface. There were swirling images around her like mirrors, but none of them made much sense because they moved too quickly, and instead she only felt an intense wave of emotion as one passed through her.

"Jon? Jon, you must calm yourself," she said into the white space.

She hadn't imagined that his mind would be white and clean, but it seemed as if someone made it this way and it was unnatural. T'Pol could still feel him guarding himself, and she stepped out further onto the white plane.

"Jon. Come out. It is safe," she said.

One of the swirls of mental energy swept through her and the white changed into dark, like wood. A wooden floor, and wooden wall panels that were all dark, and she could see a figure sitting in the corner, drawn up as Jon did in his protective way. T'Pol walked closer slowly, but she didn't entirely close the space. Instead she held her hand out and willed him to come to her.

The figure shifted a little, but didn't come out. T'Pol took another step closer. "Come to me, Jon."

She could feel the thick apprehension like humidity in the climate of his mind that stuck to her throat and lungs. But slowly the figure got to his feet and moved out of the shadow towards her.

He was a boy, still in childhood, not quite in adolescence. His brown hair was messy and unkempt. He had the same green eyes though. "T'Pol?"

She was unsure if it was the close proximity of his emotions or something else within herself that made her feel relief when the boy Jon came forward. But she was surprised at his mental perception. T'Pol held her hand out to him. "Hello Jon."

The expressions he conveyed to her on the outside were exactly the same on the mental form of the boy. His eyebrows moved inward, cinched together and he looked up at her, blinking repeatedly with wide eyes, then he reached out to take her hand. Even in the mind, the connection felt real, as if she was holding his hand outside. She watched some of the tension disappear from his face. "Hello T'Pol," he said in a small voice.

T'Pol wanted to smile, and she had to fight the strong urge off. She didn't smile, or even have the desire to; not even for Jon, but her face eased and she felt a peaceful calm. "We can speak with each other now."

"You can't tell anyone. It's bad," Jon said, holding onto her hand tightly.

She calmly raised an eyebrow at his statement. "Why is it bad, Jon?"

He sighed, and he moved a little closer to her, up against her side. "Talking is bad. There's no talking. Or writing, that's bad too. We won't get in trouble, will we?" he asked, looking up at her.

"No, we will not get in trouble for this. It is acceptable for you to speak to me." She reached over and placed a hand on the top of his head in a stiff replication of a human motion. But she thought it might calm him some. He seemed pleased with it and looked up at her with a small smile.

"You're warm," Jon said.

"Thank you," she replied, feeling the ease settle into his mind. She let go of his hand and knelt down in front of him. She was at his level, even if he was taller now. "Jon, if I asked you some questions, would you answer them? Would you show me things?"

The calmness that he felt was obviously brief as she saw and felt the anxiety return. It was strange to be experiencing what he felt all the time. T'Pol's mind was simple, calm and organized, but Jon was raw emotion. She began to understand how he could fight as well as he did in the arena.

"Jon, tell me how you came to be here, where you came from. Who brought you here?"

The boy chewed on his lip and he looked away from her, shaking his head. T'Pol reached up to put a hand on his cheek and drew his face back to hers. "No one will punish you if you tell me. You may show me."

"They did," the boy said in a quiet voice. "The men did. The bad men."

"Can you show me? I will protect you."

"I can't…I don't remember," Jon said, looking at her urgently. "Please don't make me remember. They are bad men. They look like you…"

She felt a focused wave of fear and she had to struggle to maintain her focus on their link. She saw the image of Jon shimmer a little. "I will not hurt you," she said, placing her hand on the top of his head and stroking his hair back. "I am not bad. Where did you come from, was it Earth?"

He swallowed hard. "I.. don't remember."

"You must know where you were raised, your parents… you must know your planet."

Jon looked back at her and slowly lowered his eyes as he shook his head. "The bad men took it away. They made me forget. I don't remember the Before-Time…"

Instead of continuing, Jon froze. His body was set and tense, and he looked like he did in the arena; listening, examining the air, except that the outside world couldn't be viewed by their mental avatars. "Something's here," Jon said just above a whisper. "Bad is coming."

T'Pol pulled her hand back from Jon's face and she stared at his eyes. He looked startled, still holding her gaze. He was fully a man; large, strong, broad-shouldered, with stubble on his face. But he was a boy in those eyes, that's what she hadn't been able to explain. It was still only part of the mystery; she was pleased to have found that she could talk to him inside his mind. T'Pol wanted to help him—she had to.

Jon was the first one to break their gaze, and he looked around the observation room; his breath quickened, and he was smelling the air for something unfamiliar. There was a faint trembling in the ship's deck, and T'Pol looked over to the window to notice that they weren't at warp anymore.

The door to the observation deck opened and Mertil walked in quickly, carrying a weapon at his side. "Milady, the ship is under attack, you must come with me."

She got to her feet to face Mertil and glanced out the window as if trying to see what was happening outside of the ship. There was another rumble through the ship and Jon jumped up beside her, grasping her hand. "I told Zane these corridors of space were much too dangerous. Is the ship compromised, Mertil?"

"No Milady, but you need to be secure," Mertil said, and looked over his shoulder at the door. "You must come with me.

T'Pol wasn't afraid of the attack. Vulcans weren't afraid, and either way Zane's ship had to be well-equipped for the amount of property and stock he owned. Pirates who attacked in these areas stung like the Deleroid flower insect, but similarly after the sting, they were harmless. She looked back at Jon and noted the fear on his face. Some of his emotion was left over in her from the meld, and she.. felt what he felt. "Come," she said quietly and pulled on his hand.

Jon followed as closely to her as he could. Bad men attacked ships like these.