If she hadn't been so tired, it might never have happened.
She was tired.
She was unbelievably tired, despite having been so worn out every night that she'd tumbled into bed and slept the sleep of the shattered.
She'd had only a couple of days beforehand to work through the intricacies of the Orlhaxian language and program the UT for the captain's use during the talks. Fortunately, Manaaian had so many similarities that it was plain to her that both of them shared a common ancestor; the resemblance was close enough to make programming that relatively simple. Nevertheless, after the first day the captain had asked her to maintain a comm link with him to ensure that he was getting the right picture – Manaaian in particular was a poetic, allusive language. She had therefore had to spend hours each day listening intently to two languages with which she'd only just become familiar and murmuring a constant summarized translation for transmission to the captain's earpiece. Her task wasn't perhaps quite as daunting as his, for he not only had to listen to her but interpret the delegates' body language and formulate his responses as well, but it had been pretty damned exhausting all the same.
When the agreement was finally reached, it had taken all her self-control to refrain from screeching 'Thank goodness for THAT!' straight down into the captain's earpiece. She'd taken herself straight into the shower, wishing instead that it was a bath so that she could spend the evening soaking all the stiffness out of her body before tumbling into bed.
And now it was the last act of the play, and she was to accompany the senior officers to the banquet being thrown in the captain's honor. During the day she'd put the last updates into the UT, so hopefully he'd be safe enough during the evening without her monitoring everything that was said to him. Everyone else would have similarly updated UTs, and with a little luck that should ensure the occasion passed without any unfortunate misunderstandings. Nevertheless, in acknowledgment of her part in the achievement of finally getting a peace brokered between Orlhax and Manaa, Captain Archer had invited her to be part of the Starfleet contingent.
Which was why she'd spent the last hour getting herself all dressed up in an outfit she'd never had occasion to wear since she'd come aboard, and now walked into the launch bay with steps that were somewhat different from her usual easy, booted stride on board; after so long, heels took a bit of getting used to again.
And that was where she found Lieutenant Reed, who'd obviously been so determined to be punctual that he'd been the first to arrive, and who was obviously even more tired than she was; because, unbelievably, he'd dozed off leaning against the shuttlepod door, and didn't hear her come in.
Leaning there, his eyes shut, and his face unexpectedly vulnerable, he looked somehow different to the aloof and unapproachable officer she was used to seeing across the Bridge. The dress uniform fitted him perfectly, emphasizing his lean, compact body, so that the memory rushed unbidden into her mind of how it had felt when he'd been pressed up against her in the Armory, correcting her stance during phase pistol practice. His demeanor then had been absolutely professional; no hint of anything even slightly improper could be inferred, even if the mere suggestion of Mister Regulations putting a toe outside total propriety hadn't been absurd in itself. He'd touched her exactly how and for how long he had to, no more and no less. Nevertheless, the proximity of him, and the waft of the rather nice pine-scented aftershave he was wearing, had set off some rather unprofessional thoughts that she'd had to take some pains to conceal.
These had faded away over time, starving to death for want of the fuel of encouragement. She knew he thought of her as just another of his responsibilities, and she thought of him as … well, her opinions varied. Sometimes he was an uptight Brit ass with attitude, and sometimes (off-duty) he was even kind of cute, and sometimes she felt sorry for him, because trying to rein in Jonathan Archer's enthusiasm must be like trying to bareback-ride a buffalo.
Now, however, seeing him momentarily disarmed and defenseless, an unlikely Sleeping Beauty propped against the shuttlepod, the memory of those unprofessional thoughts rushed back again. She pictured to herself a little mischievously what he'd say if she leaned forward and planted a kiss on his mouth. It would be almost worth the reprimand such an outrageous breach of regulations would be sure to earn her….
She tiptoed closer. He still didn't wake. She noticed the careworn lines on his face, the dark shadows under his eyes. He held himself so responsible for the safety of the ship and everyone on board, the past few days must have been impossibly hard on him. No wonder he was falling asleep where he stood.
She didn't think she made any sound, but suddenly his eyes flicked open. He looked sleepy, startled, unsure for just a second of where he was. His gaze fastened on her and flickered down over her dress before returning to her face. She was close enough to see his pupils dilate. For once taken completely aback, he didn't have time to pull the shutters across the blaze of his reaction.
If she hadn't been so tired that she hadn't been able to think straight, she'd have stepped backwards and let both of them catch themselves into their professional personae. If she hadn't been so tired that she was in that mental state where the stupidest ideas seemed to make perfect sense, she'd have made some excuse about thinking he was ill. If she hadn't been so tired that for once she didn't care about the consequences, she'd have thought twice about what she did next.
If he hadn't been so tired that the moment caught him completely unawares, he'd have had some strategy prepared for getting them both out of this intact. If he hadn't been so tired that the reins by which he governed his conduct tore in his hands like perished leather, he'd have pushed her away instead of pulling her in closer. If he hadn't been so tired that the thought of the regulations against fraternization went up in flames at the first touch of her mouth, and his hands on her body, everything that happened afterwards would have been different.
If they hadn't both been so tired, in fact, nothing would ever have happened at all.
