This is my take on Archer's reaction to Shran's death (fake death obviously) Sorry if he seems a little OOC but it couldn't be helped, I typed this in ten minutes. If you must you may take this in the slash sense but that was never my intention, but in some cases it just pops up. If you like this I may do the rest of the senior officers, but only if I get reviews.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, they all belong to B&B. If I did I would never have let that pathetic final episode anywhere near the actors or producers.

Jonathon Archer sat in his quarters, lying on his bed. He had been that way since the news had arrived. He was still in shock, unable to process it, it didn't seem possible. Trip had offered to stay with him, help him get drunk in celebration of the life that was now gone. He'd said no. There was something about this that made him want to be alone. Porthos whimpered beside him as if to say

"I feel your pain. I miss him too" Jonathon stroked his beloved beagle, the short fur felt like silk under his finger tips. He had like Porthos, although he'd never have openly said it. He would always pet the small canine when he thought Jonathon wasn't looking and once he'd smuggled him cheese although Jonathon had never remembered to ask him how he knew about Porthos and his cheese. He'd always had a sixth sense about some things, he always knew when Jonathon really needed help, maybe it came with the antennas. Jonathon sighed miserably as he stood up. He walked over to the cabinet and from within it he pulled out the clear bottle full of the blue liquid which he intended to drink till he couldn't remember his own name, let alone his name.

The pain was surprisingly cruel, gnawing away at his insides, turning his stomach, he'd already brought up his dinner when he'd entered his quarters. As he took a large mouthful of the liquid that burned yet cooled his throat he flashbacked to the meeting of him. If anyone, even God himself, had said that he'd feel this way when he got the message he would have told them to get their heads checked by Phlox. He giggled softly as the potent drink began to take effect, remembering their second encounter and the complaint of lack of sleep because of his debt.

Was that when their friendship began? Or was it when Jonathon had helped him and his people reach an agreement with the Vulcans? Whenever he would now be able to admit to having been delighted to see him when his ship had arrived to pull them out of danger, again. He had listened to T'pol but he hadn't wanted to believe it. Still she had been right, damn her! But the look in those brown eyes after Jonathon lashed out had been surprisingly calming because they were full of regret, full of sadness at the lie. But how much of it had been a lie? How much of the supposed friendship had been deceit? He'd come through in the end, without him the weapon would have destroyed Earth. Archer giggled again, he'd never told him that a school had been named after him, or that he was the most popular alien among adults and children alike. The giggle was one of regret. He should have told him about the school, should have told him that he was a friend. He had shown it in his manner, it showed in the way he spoke to him, but had he known that Jonathon considered him an important friend? Probably not. Or had he?

Jonathon's giggles faded and his face became a mask of sorrow. A tear fell loose and he wiped it away in surprise. It's funny how you can spend years with people, see them everyday and yet never call them friend and, in contrast, you can have massive struggles every time you see each other, which only happens occasionally, and think of them as deep friends.

People are funny that way aren't they?

Porthos whined again, and his ears drooped. Maybe he had liked the dog because his antennas were similar to the ears in how they moved to show emotion. Jonathon had always enjoyed watching them, no matter his mood. They would move in an almost hypnotic fashion.

Of course now they would never move again. His stomach turned again, this time out of guilt. How many times, regardless of intention, had he been there to help, had he been the one they could work with in big issues. And yet when he had needed help Jonathon hadn't been there to give it. Jonathon should have been there, should have sensed his need like he could sense Jonathon's.

Nothing could be done now, too late now. So the only left to do was swallow the last of the drink and say goodbye before he passed out.

"Goodbye Shran."

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Night's Darkness