Title: Facets
Author: Josephine
Email: Rating: PG-13
Category: Romance
Codes: Tu/S, others
Summary: Well, you don't know me.
No you don't know the one
Who dreams of you at night;
And longs to kiss your lips
And longs to hold you tight
Oh I'm just a friend.
That's all I've ever been.
Cause you don't know me. – Ray Charles

A/N: This takes place the Halloween before the episode 4.4, 'Borderland', and then during 4., 'The Observer Effect'.

Looking around the mess hall and its garish orange and black decorations, T'Pol stiffened her already ramrod straight spine, barely suppressing a sigh. She knew about Halloween from her research into Earth culture and her time in San Francisco, however knowing and understanding were two distinctly separate concepts.

"Enjoying yourself, T'Pol?"

With a start, T'Pol came back from her memories of San Francisco to find a rather haphazardly put together pirate smiling down at her.

"As much as I ever do, Captain."

Archer laughed, and ran an eye over her 'costume'. "I'm glad you decided to join in."

"They are merely Vulcan meditation robes; Ensign Sato assured me that they would be adequate."

"They are," confirmed Archer, then broke off at the flurry of activity on the other side of the room. "Ah, the auction's starting."

T'Pol suppressed another sigh.

"You bidding or being bid on, Mal?" Trip glanced over at the smaller man dressed in full MACO battle gear, wondering if he had lost a bet with Major Hayes.

"I had thought only to bid, if that," Malcolm murmured back, "however…"

Following Malcolm's eyes, Trip saw a few of the female MACOs eying the security officer with something definitely more than approval. He grinned at the cluster, and to their credit they grinned right back.

The bang of a makeshift gavel drew everyone's attention to the far end of the mess hall where the quartermaster, Master Sergeant Fotter, stood by a low cargo crate. He was made up as a vampire- all black clothes, a pale face, and long eyeteeth.

"We'll get started if everyone is ready?" he asked the crowd, but looked only at the captain. Getting a nod, Fotter continued. "As we all know, this auction is to raise money for Starfleet's Veterans' Fund. And as we're all going to be vets one day, the more you give, the more you'll get back." A wave of laughter went through the room at his words, and Fotter smiled, his fangs a weird juxtaposition with the good-natured expression.

"Some ground rules first." He glanced around the room until everyone had fallen silent. "Some participants come with dinner or another kind activity already. Others are more open, but that does not include any kind of hanky panky."

A few mock groans were heard, stifled quickly though as Archer cleared his throat.

"Let's get going." Waving the first 'victim' forward, Fotter waited as Travis stepped on top of the crate. He was dressed in his rock climbing gear, and as he settled the straps and ropes around him, a faint sigh went up from a number of the young and not so young crew.

"Ensign Mayweather comes with a rock climbing lesson at the next shore leave." Fotter consulted his notes. "And yes, it also includes a free visit to Sickbay."

Laughing at the joke and the chagrined look on Travis' face with the rest of the crew, Trip heard a deep chuckle nearby. He turned, seeing Phlox standing behind him, and stepped back to join the doctor.

"Does it really come with that?"

"Indeed it does. I almost had to insist on it," Phlox assured him. "I want to thank you, Commander," he added, "for helping me with my costume."

"You're more than welcome. It… looks good on you." Trip smiled, trying not to break out in too big of a grin. Phlox was dressed as a cowboy, but more like Gene Autry than Clint Eastwood. Fringe, beading, and every other cliché had been eagerly used.

A loud bang brought their attention back to the auction. "Sold to Lieutenant Bedwell for two hundred fifty credits!" A medium height woman dressed like a cat came over to Travis. She had a mixed expression of triumph and disbelief at her good luck on her heart shaped face.

To Trip's surprise Malcolm jumped up on the crate next, legs planted wide, arms crossed over his chest, a look of challenge tossed over at the women MACOs.

"Our next entry," Fotter smoothly segued, as if Crewman Shand wasn't in the background wondering why he wasn't next, "is well known to all of us. Our Chief of Security, Lieutenant Reed. This is one of the open auctions; you'll have to figure out what to do with him once you've got him. I'll start the bidding at fifty credits."

The bidding was steady, Malcolm occasionally glancing over at the MACOs with that infuriating smirk of his. No matter who else bid, one would always top it, often taking her time doing so. She had the last word though, and Fotter brought down the gavel with a 'Sold! For six hundred thirty credits to Captain Miller'.

Claire Miller sauntered over to Malcolm, who jumped nimbly off the crate. The two soldiers just stared each other down, Trip nearly laughing at the posturing. Then Miller grinned, and jerked her head toward the buffet tables. With a nod, Malcolm followed.