Title: "Developing I- Clarification"
Author: S. Kiley
Contact: slkiley@plutonianshore.com
Series: ENT
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: $ to Paramount; Comments to me.
Codes: A/T'P, romance, action, drama, angst, humor
Summary: Post-Impulse. Archer has been so hostile lately; T'Pol finds out what's what. Part 1 of a continuing story.
"Captain-"
"What?" came the gruff response. Archer was bent over a data pad, studying something intently. T'Pol took careful notice of Archer's tone, and proceeded. Obstinate was the word most frequently coming to mind when she thought of Archer lately.
"I was wondering if you would like to have dinner with me."
"I'm not hungry."
T'Pol pursed her lips, looking at the mess that was once the Captain's ready room. Half-empty cups from the mess hall littered the desk area. More screens had been moved into the room so that Archer could consult several star charts at once. The room smelled of sweat and frustration. "Captain, as your science officer, I believe I speak for the entire crew when I say that no one expects you to find the Xindi tonight."
"Well, the rest of the crew has pretty low expectations, then."
T'Pol closed the door to the ready room behind her and took a few steps until she was standing at the captain's side. "Captain, I am concerned for your health." He tensed even more, if that was possible. T'Pol felt the waves of negative energy that rolled off of him. "Missing one meal won't kill me, Sub commander." He pulled away from her, moving over to the other side of the room to study a star chart on a touch screen.
Undaunted, T'Pol followed him. "Captain, I am not merely referring to tonight's meal. Your actions have been strained lately, and it is taking an obvious toll on your physical health," she persisted, hoping sound logic would ring through. Sometimes Archer surprised her by responding to what she thought most humans would brush off. It was one of the traits that fascinated her about humans-their ability to change, and adapt so easily. In just two short years, T'Pol had seen Archer become a reasonable, logical diplomat, using his mind to sort out problems of the heart more and more. Somewhere inside, she allowed herself to privately meditate on the small pride she felt at this.
Archer didn't look at her. "Don't you think Doctor Phlox should be the judge of that?" he snapped.
Obstinate was most certainly the word coming to mind now. "Captain- " she placed a hand on his back, and pulled away as he gasped in pain. He crumpled and drew away, gripping the side of the computer console so hard his knuckles whitened. "I'm going to summon Doctor Phlox."
"No," he croaked. "That's an order."
"You are in extreme pain-"
"There's nothing Phlox can do without drugging me. I need to be clear headed."
"You are not very clear headed now, Captain," she observed. "I don't remember that being any of your business, and if you choose to make it your business, I can find a science officer who won't. Dismissed." he spat.
T'Pol prickled for a fraction of a second and then took a deep cleansing breath, feeling her own glimmer of frustration not just with the stress of the crew but also with the way the Expanse was affecting her control. Neither was logical, and thus both were profoundly confusing. "Yes, Captain," she said curtly. She turned on heel, and exited the ready room.
A plate filled with broccoli and a piece of cheesecake clattered down onto the table, disturbing T'Pol's quiet meditation, and knocking her cooling cup of green tea. "I'm sorry." Archer plopped into the seat across from T'Pol much in the same way he had dropped his pitiful excuse for dinner. "Not just for the tea," he said feebly.
T'Pol opened her eyes and unfolded her body from the lotus position she had adopted on the hard metal chair. She had been taking up meditation in the mess hall lately, disturbed by the sounds of mating coming from the next room. Ensign Klepper and her "partner" had come up with a rather noisy way of dealing with the stress of the new mission, which only lasted about an hour, but during which concentration in the room sharing an air duct was nearly impossible. The disruption was small enough, and the situation delicate enough that T'Pol didn't mind accommodating the ensign.
T'Pol watched Archer pour what seemed like a mountain of salt onto his vegetables, biting back a comment about heart disease and unhealthy eating habits in humans. "You were correct in your assessment, Captain. You can find another science officer if you feel that I am unfit for the position."
Archer didn't say anything to that. He dug a fork stubbornly into his broccoli and shoved it into his mouth, chewing almost as an afterthought. T'Pol carefully wiped the spilled tea droplets from the table, waiting.
"I don't want another science officer, T'Pol. You're doing a great job. I don't think anyone could do this job as well as you do."
"Thank you," she said politely. She sipped her tea. "I am glad you have decided to pursue nourishment . . . of some kind."
Archer sat up and winced slightly. "I'm sorry about overreacting earlier. I'm afraid I fared worse than everyone else and I'm still recovering from my 'out of body experience' so to speak. It's still rather painful."
"Perhaps you should consider letting me take command for a few days so you can rest."
Archer nodded dismissively. "Perhaps." He dug his fork maliciously into the cheesecake, chewing but not really tasting.
T'Pol knew that tone. 'Perhaps' was 'no' in Archer-speak. "Captain, I think you should consider this more seriously. It is not merely your physical health I am concerned with. You have been extremely . . . volatile these recent weeks. Mental stress can lead to physical illness."
"Well, in case you haven't noticed, everyone's under a lot of stress around here, T'Pol," he snapped. A wash of regret covered his face as soon as the words were out. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean-" Frustrated, he dropped his fork to the plate. It clattered noisily in the silent mess hall.
"I have been frustrated, lately, T'Pol. Finding the Xindi hasn't proved easy and we seem to encounter more problems than we have solutions for. And then . . ." he trailed off.
T'Pol leaned forward. "Captain, if you feel overwhelmed by the task, I can do more to help alleviate the burden-"
Archer coughed. "It's not so much that. I mean, it is that, but it's . . ." His eyes caught hers a moment and he looked away. "It's a . . . personal problem."
"Is there something I can do?"
"You wouldn't understand," he muttered, looking away.
"Captain, you have not yet attempted to explain the situation to me. It is illogical to assume I wouldn't understand your predicament."
"It has to deal with emotions, T'Pol. I don't know-" he stopped mid- sentence, biting his lower lip in frustration. He pushed up from the table abruptly.
"Vulcans have emotions; we just choose to repress them for the greater good. The little I do know of human motions from being on this ship is that hey need to be dealt with in some form. Whether you need to seek Dr. Phlox's counseling, or if you need to meditate, you must-"
"I've meditated on this particular emotion for a good long time, T'Pol." He moved over to the window, watching the star lines.
"Perhaps Dr. Phlox-"
"This is not something I can discuss with him. His . . . lack of knowledge of human emotions, customs and rituals make this particular problem seem more unwieldy, not less."
T'Pol continued. "Is there someone human you could-"
"The only human I could really trust wouldn't do- he's part of the problem."
"Captain, I trust you implicitly, and I feel that you could trust me to listen, even if I don't understand."
'That won't work either. You're part of the problem," he admitted. Silence fell heavy over the mess hall; so quiet Archer could hear the gentle thrum of the warp drive.
She swallowed softly. "You can leave me on the next habitable planet, and I-"
"Stop that!' he said angrily, turning towards her. "I'm not leaving you behind. I'm not leaving anyone behind." He paused. "It's not about that anyway, T'Pol."
T'Pol took a deep breath. "If I am part of a problem, I would like to know about it. Although I may not completely understand human emotions, I often find that logic can be just as easily applied to problems of human emotion as well as Vulcan."
Archer shook his head. "This isn't something I can talk to you about."
"Why not?"
"Because it's not logical," he snapped angrily. "It's so completely illogical that it doesn't even make sense to me the illogical emotion- driven human." He kicked a chair.
She inhaled sharply, still unused to seeing the man she had though of as good-natured and even-tempered reacting to inner turmoil with such violence, though that had become the norm for him lately. "Captain, you are not yourself as of late. You are not a violent person, but your actions-"
"I know about you and Trip," he said glibly.
T'Pol quieted. Ship gossip. Trip had told her about it and she had dismissed it as just that-gossip meant to keep idle minds busy. But why . . .
"I didn't mean that to sound the way it did," Archer said sheepishly. "You are a member of my crew and a senior officer and as such, free to socialize with anyone you wish to . . ." he trailed off.
She fluttered slightly at this, confused. "Commander Tucker-"
"Look, if this is . . . logical . . . or whatever . . . and it is logical, humans and Vulcans are very similar in many ways, so it only makes sense," he said, fumbling. T'Pol had the sense that he was, to coin a human phrase, 'beating around the bush'. "And I'm glad that this . . . experimentation . . . has been working out for you. For you and Trip."
T'Pol's eyes widened, some of the puzzle pieces beginning to fall into place. "Captain-"
He held up a hand. "Just let me finish, T'Pol." Archer paused, turned to look out the window at the star lines again. "I just . . . I thought that there was something . . . happening between us. Or, not happening, but developing . . . and I've never been very good at reading signals from humans, let alone Vulcans . . ."
T'Pol stood, taking a few steps towards him. "Jonathon," she said. Archer turned, somewhat surprised. T'Pol had never used his first name in the two and a half years they'd been on board together. "I believe you are under the wrong impression concerning my relationship with Commander Tucker."
"What do you mean?"
"Commander Tucker and I are not romantically involved," she said plainly. Archer turned to look at her. "I believe this is the 'experimentation' that you are referring to?"
"You're not?" he asked, puzzled.
T'Pol shook her head. "No, Captain. We are not romantically involved."
"Then what-"
"Commander Tucker has been suffering from insomnia; Dr. Phlox suggested that Vulcan neuropressure treatments might be just what he needs. It consists of the manipulation of certain pressure points mainly along the spinal column for stress relief. If you don't mind my saying so, you could probably benefit from treatments like these yourself, once your wounds heal completely."
Archer's face took on a strange light. "So you and Trip aren't-"
T'Pol tilted her head back and gave a short, sharp bark of laughter. She clasped her hand to her mouth as soon as she was finished, stunned by her reaction. "Excuse me," she said all smooth politeness again. "The expanse has been affecting my control. The idea of myself and Commander Tucker pursuing a romantic relationship is so completely absurd . . . my apologies, Captain."
Archer grinned at her. "I always knew you had a sense of humor, T'Pol." His face had still had that strange light, T'Pol noted. He looked suddenly supremely . . . happy.
"You mentioned some kind of development. . ." she began. Archer's face dropped a little. He looked supremely uncomfortable. "If this is not a topic that you wish to discuss-"she began.
"No," he stopped her. "It's something I should discuss-we should discuss. Just so we're playing with a full deck."
"A full deck?"
"It's an expression," he said carelessly. "It means that everyone knows what everyone else knows-everyone knows what's going on."
"What is going on?"
He bit his lip, taking a step towards her. "T'Pol, you and I have become allies over the past two and a half years. Friends, even. Wouldn't you say?"
"I find your company stimulating and enjoyable most of the time," she acquiesced.
Archer bit back his own laughter. I love the way she talks, he thought fleetingly. "T'Pol, many human relationships-romantic relationships- develop out of friendships. . ." he trailed off. Why was this so difficult? He took a step closer, looking into her eyes. "I just . . . I felt like that was a possibility for us . . . could be a possibility for us. And then I started hearing about you and Trip . . . it was upsetting, to say the least. "
T'Pol felt a strange fluttering inside. I'm getting sick, she thought, rationally. I'm probably still not over the experience on the Vulcan ship. "Allow me to reiterate, Captain, that Commander Tucker and I have a purely professional and platonic relationship."
Archer decided to go for broke. "T'Pol, is there something going on between us? Do you think . . ."
T'Pol cut in quickly. "It is difficult for me to make any firm observations on your feelings or this . . . developing relationship. I have never been in such close contact with humans, or trusted one as completely as I trust you." She paused, and then reached out, and touched his hand, surprising herself with the instinctual gesture. His fingers wrapped around hers, responding. Warning signs were flashing in her head. Meditate, she thought, I need to meditate. She felt the gentle tug of emotion pull at her and steeled herself against it. "If something is developing," she said softly, "it seems only logical that we not stunt its growth before we know more about it."
She felt emotion pulling more insistently at her. She dropped his hand, regaining some of her composure in the process. "I need to finish my meditation," she said, softly excusing herself. Archer still had that lighted look on his face, which only disturbed her more. T'Pol turned, and exited the mess hall quickly.
The doors slid shut behind her with a soft click. Archer's soft smile spilled into a grin. "Just when I think you're not going to surprise me anymore, T'Pol," he said quietly.
He picked up the dishes from the table and took them to the appropriate bin. He grimaced as he twisted, pain shooting up his back. Vulcan neuropressure, huh? he thought.
Author: S. Kiley
Contact: slkiley@plutonianshore.com
Series: ENT
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: $ to Paramount; Comments to me.
Codes: A/T'P, romance, action, drama, angst, humor
Summary: Post-Impulse. Archer has been so hostile lately; T'Pol finds out what's what. Part 1 of a continuing story.
"Captain-"
"What?" came the gruff response. Archer was bent over a data pad, studying something intently. T'Pol took careful notice of Archer's tone, and proceeded. Obstinate was the word most frequently coming to mind when she thought of Archer lately.
"I was wondering if you would like to have dinner with me."
"I'm not hungry."
T'Pol pursed her lips, looking at the mess that was once the Captain's ready room. Half-empty cups from the mess hall littered the desk area. More screens had been moved into the room so that Archer could consult several star charts at once. The room smelled of sweat and frustration. "Captain, as your science officer, I believe I speak for the entire crew when I say that no one expects you to find the Xindi tonight."
"Well, the rest of the crew has pretty low expectations, then."
T'Pol closed the door to the ready room behind her and took a few steps until she was standing at the captain's side. "Captain, I am concerned for your health." He tensed even more, if that was possible. T'Pol felt the waves of negative energy that rolled off of him. "Missing one meal won't kill me, Sub commander." He pulled away from her, moving over to the other side of the room to study a star chart on a touch screen.
Undaunted, T'Pol followed him. "Captain, I am not merely referring to tonight's meal. Your actions have been strained lately, and it is taking an obvious toll on your physical health," she persisted, hoping sound logic would ring through. Sometimes Archer surprised her by responding to what she thought most humans would brush off. It was one of the traits that fascinated her about humans-their ability to change, and adapt so easily. In just two short years, T'Pol had seen Archer become a reasonable, logical diplomat, using his mind to sort out problems of the heart more and more. Somewhere inside, she allowed herself to privately meditate on the small pride she felt at this.
Archer didn't look at her. "Don't you think Doctor Phlox should be the judge of that?" he snapped.
Obstinate was most certainly the word coming to mind now. "Captain- " she placed a hand on his back, and pulled away as he gasped in pain. He crumpled and drew away, gripping the side of the computer console so hard his knuckles whitened. "I'm going to summon Doctor Phlox."
"No," he croaked. "That's an order."
"You are in extreme pain-"
"There's nothing Phlox can do without drugging me. I need to be clear headed."
"You are not very clear headed now, Captain," she observed. "I don't remember that being any of your business, and if you choose to make it your business, I can find a science officer who won't. Dismissed." he spat.
T'Pol prickled for a fraction of a second and then took a deep cleansing breath, feeling her own glimmer of frustration not just with the stress of the crew but also with the way the Expanse was affecting her control. Neither was logical, and thus both were profoundly confusing. "Yes, Captain," she said curtly. She turned on heel, and exited the ready room.
A plate filled with broccoli and a piece of cheesecake clattered down onto the table, disturbing T'Pol's quiet meditation, and knocking her cooling cup of green tea. "I'm sorry." Archer plopped into the seat across from T'Pol much in the same way he had dropped his pitiful excuse for dinner. "Not just for the tea," he said feebly.
T'Pol opened her eyes and unfolded her body from the lotus position she had adopted on the hard metal chair. She had been taking up meditation in the mess hall lately, disturbed by the sounds of mating coming from the next room. Ensign Klepper and her "partner" had come up with a rather noisy way of dealing with the stress of the new mission, which only lasted about an hour, but during which concentration in the room sharing an air duct was nearly impossible. The disruption was small enough, and the situation delicate enough that T'Pol didn't mind accommodating the ensign.
T'Pol watched Archer pour what seemed like a mountain of salt onto his vegetables, biting back a comment about heart disease and unhealthy eating habits in humans. "You were correct in your assessment, Captain. You can find another science officer if you feel that I am unfit for the position."
Archer didn't say anything to that. He dug a fork stubbornly into his broccoli and shoved it into his mouth, chewing almost as an afterthought. T'Pol carefully wiped the spilled tea droplets from the table, waiting.
"I don't want another science officer, T'Pol. You're doing a great job. I don't think anyone could do this job as well as you do."
"Thank you," she said politely. She sipped her tea. "I am glad you have decided to pursue nourishment . . . of some kind."
Archer sat up and winced slightly. "I'm sorry about overreacting earlier. I'm afraid I fared worse than everyone else and I'm still recovering from my 'out of body experience' so to speak. It's still rather painful."
"Perhaps you should consider letting me take command for a few days so you can rest."
Archer nodded dismissively. "Perhaps." He dug his fork maliciously into the cheesecake, chewing but not really tasting.
T'Pol knew that tone. 'Perhaps' was 'no' in Archer-speak. "Captain, I think you should consider this more seriously. It is not merely your physical health I am concerned with. You have been extremely . . . volatile these recent weeks. Mental stress can lead to physical illness."
"Well, in case you haven't noticed, everyone's under a lot of stress around here, T'Pol," he snapped. A wash of regret covered his face as soon as the words were out. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean-" Frustrated, he dropped his fork to the plate. It clattered noisily in the silent mess hall.
"I have been frustrated, lately, T'Pol. Finding the Xindi hasn't proved easy and we seem to encounter more problems than we have solutions for. And then . . ." he trailed off.
T'Pol leaned forward. "Captain, if you feel overwhelmed by the task, I can do more to help alleviate the burden-"
Archer coughed. "It's not so much that. I mean, it is that, but it's . . ." His eyes caught hers a moment and he looked away. "It's a . . . personal problem."
"Is there something I can do?"
"You wouldn't understand," he muttered, looking away.
"Captain, you have not yet attempted to explain the situation to me. It is illogical to assume I wouldn't understand your predicament."
"It has to deal with emotions, T'Pol. I don't know-" he stopped mid- sentence, biting his lower lip in frustration. He pushed up from the table abruptly.
"Vulcans have emotions; we just choose to repress them for the greater good. The little I do know of human motions from being on this ship is that hey need to be dealt with in some form. Whether you need to seek Dr. Phlox's counseling, or if you need to meditate, you must-"
"I've meditated on this particular emotion for a good long time, T'Pol." He moved over to the window, watching the star lines.
"Perhaps Dr. Phlox-"
"This is not something I can discuss with him. His . . . lack of knowledge of human emotions, customs and rituals make this particular problem seem more unwieldy, not less."
T'Pol continued. "Is there someone human you could-"
"The only human I could really trust wouldn't do- he's part of the problem."
"Captain, I trust you implicitly, and I feel that you could trust me to listen, even if I don't understand."
'That won't work either. You're part of the problem," he admitted. Silence fell heavy over the mess hall; so quiet Archer could hear the gentle thrum of the warp drive.
She swallowed softly. "You can leave me on the next habitable planet, and I-"
"Stop that!' he said angrily, turning towards her. "I'm not leaving you behind. I'm not leaving anyone behind." He paused. "It's not about that anyway, T'Pol."
T'Pol took a deep breath. "If I am part of a problem, I would like to know about it. Although I may not completely understand human emotions, I often find that logic can be just as easily applied to problems of human emotion as well as Vulcan."
Archer shook his head. "This isn't something I can talk to you about."
"Why not?"
"Because it's not logical," he snapped angrily. "It's so completely illogical that it doesn't even make sense to me the illogical emotion- driven human." He kicked a chair.
She inhaled sharply, still unused to seeing the man she had though of as good-natured and even-tempered reacting to inner turmoil with such violence, though that had become the norm for him lately. "Captain, you are not yourself as of late. You are not a violent person, but your actions-"
"I know about you and Trip," he said glibly.
T'Pol quieted. Ship gossip. Trip had told her about it and she had dismissed it as just that-gossip meant to keep idle minds busy. But why . . .
"I didn't mean that to sound the way it did," Archer said sheepishly. "You are a member of my crew and a senior officer and as such, free to socialize with anyone you wish to . . ." he trailed off.
She fluttered slightly at this, confused. "Commander Tucker-"
"Look, if this is . . . logical . . . or whatever . . . and it is logical, humans and Vulcans are very similar in many ways, so it only makes sense," he said, fumbling. T'Pol had the sense that he was, to coin a human phrase, 'beating around the bush'. "And I'm glad that this . . . experimentation . . . has been working out for you. For you and Trip."
T'Pol's eyes widened, some of the puzzle pieces beginning to fall into place. "Captain-"
He held up a hand. "Just let me finish, T'Pol." Archer paused, turned to look out the window at the star lines again. "I just . . . I thought that there was something . . . happening between us. Or, not happening, but developing . . . and I've never been very good at reading signals from humans, let alone Vulcans . . ."
T'Pol stood, taking a few steps towards him. "Jonathon," she said. Archer turned, somewhat surprised. T'Pol had never used his first name in the two and a half years they'd been on board together. "I believe you are under the wrong impression concerning my relationship with Commander Tucker."
"What do you mean?"
"Commander Tucker and I are not romantically involved," she said plainly. Archer turned to look at her. "I believe this is the 'experimentation' that you are referring to?"
"You're not?" he asked, puzzled.
T'Pol shook her head. "No, Captain. We are not romantically involved."
"Then what-"
"Commander Tucker has been suffering from insomnia; Dr. Phlox suggested that Vulcan neuropressure treatments might be just what he needs. It consists of the manipulation of certain pressure points mainly along the spinal column for stress relief. If you don't mind my saying so, you could probably benefit from treatments like these yourself, once your wounds heal completely."
Archer's face took on a strange light. "So you and Trip aren't-"
T'Pol tilted her head back and gave a short, sharp bark of laughter. She clasped her hand to her mouth as soon as she was finished, stunned by her reaction. "Excuse me," she said all smooth politeness again. "The expanse has been affecting my control. The idea of myself and Commander Tucker pursuing a romantic relationship is so completely absurd . . . my apologies, Captain."
Archer grinned at her. "I always knew you had a sense of humor, T'Pol." His face had still had that strange light, T'Pol noted. He looked suddenly supremely . . . happy.
"You mentioned some kind of development. . ." she began. Archer's face dropped a little. He looked supremely uncomfortable. "If this is not a topic that you wish to discuss-"she began.
"No," he stopped her. "It's something I should discuss-we should discuss. Just so we're playing with a full deck."
"A full deck?"
"It's an expression," he said carelessly. "It means that everyone knows what everyone else knows-everyone knows what's going on."
"What is going on?"
He bit his lip, taking a step towards her. "T'Pol, you and I have become allies over the past two and a half years. Friends, even. Wouldn't you say?"
"I find your company stimulating and enjoyable most of the time," she acquiesced.
Archer bit back his own laughter. I love the way she talks, he thought fleetingly. "T'Pol, many human relationships-romantic relationships- develop out of friendships. . ." he trailed off. Why was this so difficult? He took a step closer, looking into her eyes. "I just . . . I felt like that was a possibility for us . . . could be a possibility for us. And then I started hearing about you and Trip . . . it was upsetting, to say the least. "
T'Pol felt a strange fluttering inside. I'm getting sick, she thought, rationally. I'm probably still not over the experience on the Vulcan ship. "Allow me to reiterate, Captain, that Commander Tucker and I have a purely professional and platonic relationship."
Archer decided to go for broke. "T'Pol, is there something going on between us? Do you think . . ."
T'Pol cut in quickly. "It is difficult for me to make any firm observations on your feelings or this . . . developing relationship. I have never been in such close contact with humans, or trusted one as completely as I trust you." She paused, and then reached out, and touched his hand, surprising herself with the instinctual gesture. His fingers wrapped around hers, responding. Warning signs were flashing in her head. Meditate, she thought, I need to meditate. She felt the gentle tug of emotion pull at her and steeled herself against it. "If something is developing," she said softly, "it seems only logical that we not stunt its growth before we know more about it."
She felt emotion pulling more insistently at her. She dropped his hand, regaining some of her composure in the process. "I need to finish my meditation," she said, softly excusing herself. Archer still had that lighted look on his face, which only disturbed her more. T'Pol turned, and exited the mess hall quickly.
The doors slid shut behind her with a soft click. Archer's soft smile spilled into a grin. "Just when I think you're not going to surprise me anymore, T'Pol," he said quietly.
He picked up the dishes from the table and took them to the appropriate bin. He grimaced as he twisted, pain shooting up his back. Vulcan neuropressure, huh? he thought.