Some Rules are Meant to be Broken

by gammara

SR6: Part two now up. Very sad (still).

2. Some Rules are Meant to be Broken 2

Site and resources: the 602 Club Home | About the 602club.com | Contact Me | Directions to Other Bars (Links)
Stories: Neat (G - PG13) | With a Twist (R)
Episodes: Reviews | Character Bios

Some Rules are Meant to be Broken, Part 2

Some Rules are Meant to be Broken: one | two | three | four

Chapter One

The ready room was quiet. The hum of the floorboards seemed deafening. Archer looked out at the stars and leaned his head against the glass. A few tears touched his cheek. He felt like an idiot; he hadn't cried since his father's funeral. He tried to pull himself together, but felt like an emotional wreck - the past few days and his relationship with T'Pol had taken their toll on him. He wanted to indulge in a good sulk and think about her, but felt stupid for doing so.

His door chimed. He forced his head back against his shoulders and looked at the ceiling. He expelled out a long blast of air from his lungs, and rubbed his face with the palm of both hands.

The door chimed again. He knew precisely who it was - it was her - T'Pol. He didn't really want to talk with her, but didn't see how he could ignore her. He walked behind his desk. He hoarsely said, "Come in."

She stepped in and walked toward him. "I have the duty roster prepared for you."

He knew she was using this as an excuse, but he wanted to keep their conversation on only business.

He grabbed the padd from her hand. She stared at him for a moment, looking into his now green eyes. She thought the lashes looked wet.

She wanted to talk with him further, but didn't think continuing the conversation on the bridge or even in his office was appropriate. She'd been trying to push thoughts of him out of her mind all morning. Although her Pon Farr was gone, she felt a lingering desire for him. She surmised those feelings would vanish in time. She continued to keep those thoughts deep within her mind.

"Anything else?" he asked in a monotone voice.

"Jon," she began.

A flash of anger sparked behind Archer's eyes upon hearing his first name. She continued carefully, "Perhaps you should take the rest of the day off."

"How thoughtful of you to be concerned about me," he remarked. He looked back at the padd and tossed it on his desk.

The sarcasm wasn't lost on her. She walked over to him. "I think this merits more discussion, but perhaps in a few days when we have both thought things through."

"I think the discussion is over. Thank you for the roster. I'll review it as soon as possible." He looked down at his desk and picked up a stylus for a tablet.

She stood over him, furrowing her eyebrows. She watched him work for the next minute. She opened her mouth and he looked up.

"Yes?" he asked.

"Nothing."

She went back to her station and sat in her chair with a heavy thud. She folded her arms across her chest as she stared into space.

After a few moments, Hoshi noticed T'Pol was back and walked over to the first officer. "So, are you feeling better?" she asked.

T'Pol forgot to apologize to Hoshi this morning. Although it had been foremost in her mind when she entered the bridge earlier, she had neglected to deliver the apology. Instead, she let her feelings for the captain get in the way of repairing this friendship.

"Thank you, I am feeling better," she answered knowing Hoshi was not referring to her emotions. She paused. "Ensign, I apologize for behaving badly toward you. I meant no slight." She continued. "I think you are a fine communications officer and am certain with more training you could become an excellent science officer."

Hoshi was surprised by a full and complete apology. "I knew you weren't yourself, but having you say you're sorry sure makes me feel better." She smiled at the Vulcan.

"No, I have not been myself," affirmed T'Pol.

"So, what's the captain's excuse?" she asked, giving a nod to the ready room.

T'Pol stiffened. "He is upset with me," she disclosed.

Hoshi's eyes widened. "Oh," she said.

"I must continue to get back to my scans," said T'Pol, making an excuse to keep working.

Hoshi went back to her station trying to imagine why Captain Archer was mad at T'Pol.

Chapter Two

Archer dove into his work. Occasionally, he'd hear T'Pol's surface thoughts, but put them aside. Her voice in his head sounded warm and inviting. He scowled at his reminiscence. He noticed her voice seemed louder than before. Some things he could hear clearly, and others sounded like muffled whispers. Sometimes the images in his mind were distracting. He shook his head.

After reviewing several reports, he looked at the clock and noticed the time was 1227. He usually stopped to talk with the crew to see how they were by now. His usual routine was to check in with Hoshi first. He walked out onto the bridge and crossed it to the armory station. "Malcolm, I read that the armory is at 99% efficiency."

Reed sat up in his chair. "Yes, sir."

Archer smiled at him. "Excellent. I also read you've asked your staff to work on their target practice for away missions."

He beamed. He never got this much attention from Archer. "Yes. I wanted to ensure they could successfully fire a host of weapons, sir."

Archer nodded. "Keep up the good work."

He crossed back to his chair.

"All stations report normal," said T'Pol looking at him, hoping to get his attention.

He nodded. "Yes. Thank you, Sub commander."

Hoshi looked up and realized T'Pol was right; Archer was angry at his first officer.

Archer's stomach was rumbling. He bit the side of his lip, deciding whether to go to lunch or not.

"Captain, I am going to the dining room. Would you care to join me for lunch?" asked T'Pol. She wanted him to eat and knew if she'd asked in this setting, he would have a difficult time saying no. She also wanted to finish an earlier discussion.

He stared at her. "Very well," he said. He looked at Reed. "Malcolm, you have command."

"Aye, sir," said Reed.

After the two walked onto the turbolift and the door shut, Mayweather turned to the bridge staff. "You guys are going to think I'm crazy, but I saw Sub commander T'Pol leaving the captain's room this morning. And her hair was disheveled."

Reed laughed. "You are loony. I'm certain you're mistaken. He's the captain; she's his first officer. And she's a Vulcan."

Mayweather spoke again. "I'm telling you guys. I'm pretty sure I saw candles in his room."

Hoshi perked up. "Really?"

Reed shook his head. "Come off it."

Hoshi spoke up. "Are you sure?"

Mayweather furrowed his brow. "No. I'm not 100% sure, but I'm pretty sure."

Reed smirked. "Exactly as I said. Captain Archer would never be involved with her. You must be imagining it."

Mayweather wished he could share more information, like how the captain had encouraged him to get breakfast for his girlfriend, Susan Fairbanks. But, he couldn't; the captain had asked that bit of information remain confidential - something about not wanting to encourage fraternization, but allowing it. Besides, Reed was probably right. Archer, although one of the most personable captain's he met, seemed strictly business with his crew.

Hoshi on the other hand, decided to ask T'Pol out for dinner sometime in the near future. She thought there was something to this, and that T'Pol might need help figuring human males out.

Chapter Three

Archer was silent in the turbolift. His arms were folded across his chest and he was staring at the wall. He caught a whiff of the incense she used -- nutmeg. It made him think about having her wrapped in his arms. He shifted his weight uncomfortably.

"Jon, I wanted to talk with you," she said.

He glared at her. "I'm listening," he said.

She sighed. "I know you are troubled."

"Troubled? No. I'm upset," he snapped as the turbolift opened. He calmed down and walked down the hall without saying another word. They passed through the mess hall and into the dining room. When they found themselves alone, he continued.

"I'm upset, T'Pol," he said. "Hurt, angry, confused - need I go on?" He looked down at the table. He sighed. "Working with you is difficult right now." He thought about last night and how she'd told him she wanted him. He shook the idea off. He had teased her, forcing her to say she wanted him.

She caught that image from him and her cheeks flushed dark green. "Perhaps you have a suggestion on how to continue our working relationship?" she asked.

He thought about it as the steward brought out the special for Archer and soup for Sub commander T'Pol. When the steward was out of earshot, they continued their conversation.

He sighed. "Maybe I should take a couple of days off," he said. "I already have tomorrow off." He looked at the sandwich in front of him, noting it didn't look very appetizing.

"You should eat," she said, getting the feeling he wasn't going to. She put her spoon into her soup and brought it up to her mouth.

He watched her purse her lips to the spoon. Her tongue lightly grabbed the utensil as she tilted it. She closed her eyes as she tasted it. He rubbed the back of his neck trying to root out the image. "I should definitely take a few days off," he corrected.

The image in his mind forced her to look up and place the spoon back in the food. "Would you like to start now?" she asked.

He looked at her lips and wet his. "Yes, I think I should begin now."

"I will tell the crew you took ill," said T'Pol.

He nodded, feeling his throat closing up. He stood up as she grabbed his hand.

"Jon, you do mean a great deal to me. I am extremely grateful to you for your assistance and am sorry that I have caused you pain," said T'Pol.

Archer felt like a yo-yo. He winced, standing up and forcing his hand away. "Don't do this to me. You've already made your choice." He backed away from the table.

She looked confused. "There was and is no choice. This is the only option." She looked into his sorrowful eyes. "This 'choice' is an eventuality - a certainty. There can never be another outcome. We can never have a relationship, Captain."

'Now it's Captain?' he thought. He folded his hands across his chest and said, "It was not my choice or my eventuality. I am ...was ...prepared to let it continue."

Her brows knotted together. "You would disregard Starfleet regulations and the very rules you place upon others?" she asked.

He shrugged. "If you returned my feelings, I would talk with Admiral Forrest about this and let him make the final decision." He blew out a deep breath. "I don't know."

"And what about the differences in our races?" she asked.

"What about them?" he retorted.

She shook her head. "Surely, you are not naïve enough to think our people would accept such a match."

"I don't care what people think, T'Pol," he said.

She arched her eyebrow. "Your reasoning is folly." She continued, "Having two days to reflect may change your mind." She paused. "I have observed that humans change the way they feel for others in a short period of time."

He grimaced as if she'd slapped his face. "Really? Is that your so-called observation?" His face reddened and his nostrils flared. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I have loved you for some time ...whether I admitted it to you or not." He continued. "But, more than one year is a short period of time to you, isn't it?"

She looked confused.

"I think your observations of humans, in this and many other cases, is wholly inaccurate!"

She bit her lower lip. "I do not understand."

"No, I'm sure you don't!" he snapped. "I'll be in my quarters." He headed toward the door. "You're in charge, Sub commander."

The door shut. She looked after it for a moment and then went back to her soup.

Chapter Four

He marched back to his cabin, pushing his hands through his hair in anger. He wanted to go for a run or jab the punching bag, but decided against it. He was supposed to sick.

He was relieved to be in his room. He changed out of his uniform and put on a pair of navy drawstring pants and a white shirt. He rolled his head from side to side and tried to ease the tension in his shoulders. Porthos jumped on the bed and began to lick his hand. Archer smiled.

He sat down on his bed and took out his book. He opened it and began to read Much Ado About Nothing. He smirked - what irony: the story of couples afraid to commit or unable to commit. He wasn't sure if he was Seigneur Benedick or not. "Sigh no more," the first page read. He snorted.

Porthos settled next to Archer's arm, as he continued to pet his dog.

The door chimed. He stood up and walked toward the door. As he opened it, he saw Trip.

"All right. I want to hear what's going on," said Trip. "And not the flimsy story that you're 'ill.'"

Archer scratched his head as Trip walked in and sat at the small captain's table, propping his feet up.

"Come on in," said Archer sarcastically.

"What the heck's going on?" asked Trip.

Archer turned around. "It's complicated."

"So, I'm guessing that means that you and T'Pol didn't work out," Trip said.

As if to affirm Trip's guess, Archer looked away. "Trip, I don't really want to talk about it," he said. He sat down across from his engineer with a heavy thud and put his cheek on his hand.

"Then why you sittin', Jon?" he asked.

"I knew our relationship was temporary," he sighed.

"Bullshit," said Trip with emphasis and a drawl on the 'shit.' He put his feet down on the floor.

He felt Archer needed a drink. Tucker took out a small flask and winked at Archer. "This is from my own private collection, Cap'n. Took me about a week to make."

Archer regarded the flask. "As the captain, I probably shouldn't know you have this, much less are making this in your room."

"You're off the clock, 'member?"

Archer unscrewed the top and took a sip. His face tightened and he coughed.

"Oh, it's not that bad!" said Tucker. "That gin recipe came from Tucker moonshiners all the way back to the early 1900s."

"That's exactly when this tastes like it was made - the early 1900s," said Archer. "Just tell me you don't take this into engineering with you," said Archer.

"Nope, brought it over for this occasion. But, you obviously don't know quality hooch."

Archer smiled, taking another sip with the same reaction.

Trip changed subjects back to their original discussion. "I think you wanted this little romance to continue ...indefinitely."

"How could I be so stupid?" asked Archer.

"I've never seen you broken up over a girl like this," Tucker said. He scratched his head and thought about whether he'd actually seen Archer date anyone. He didn't want to get caught up in the details and facts.

Archer nodded. "Yeah." He looked up from the table. "Not even Rebecca."

Tucker was surprised his guesses were so on. He'd never seen Archer in love with a woman, but had seen all the signs before ...mostly from himself. "How long you been in love with her, Jon?" Tucker asked.

Archer smiled wryly, taking another sip from the flask. "That obvious?"

Trip nodded. "Yup."

Archer shrugged. "Don't know. More than a year." He thought about the first time he'd met T'Pol. He had to admit he thought she was attractive then, even when she was a pain in his ass. He smiled - how ironic, he was in love with someone from a race of people who prevented his father from seeing his life's work accomplished.

The engineer whistled, shaking his head. "That's trouble," Trip continued. "So, what do you do now?"

"Sulk in my quarters and try to forget. And try to prevent it from affecting my performance or negatively impacting the crew, including T'Pol," he said.

"That's an interesting plan," said Trip. "Think it'll work?"

Archer guffawed. "Not today. I don't know about the long run. Maybe I can convince myself to tamp down those feelings. I did it before."

Trip nodded. "But now?"

"I don't know if I can." He put his head into his hands. "I am so screwed."

"Well at least you have your sense of humor about it."

Archer snorted and looked up. "I can't believe I'm actually asking this, but ...what would you do?"

Trip grinned. "I have three ingredients to cure love: get drunk as hell, listen to country songs non-stop and find another woman - pronto."

Archer shook his head; he knew he'd regret asking. "That's really what you'd do?" he asked.

"Works like a charm every time," Trip smiled.

"How many times has it worked?" asked Archer with only half a smile.

"Too many times to count," grinned Trip. "I'll send you a few of the very sappiest country songs. That'll probably help," said Trip standing up.

"I don't really like country music," confessed Archer.

Trip froze and then quipped, "I could send you some Vulcan chants."

Archer winced. "Country music sounds fine," he retorted.

"I thought you'd see it my way," said Trip. Archer handed him back the flask, but Trip pushed it back into the captain's chest. "Nope, you're gonna need that."

Archer raised his brows. "I've got plenty of alcohol in my quarters."

"The worse the booze, the better you'll feel ...in the long run that is." He walked out and looked back at the captain. "I'll check with ya at 2330 hours to make sure you're good and trashed." Trip walked down the hall, as the door swished shut.

Archer went back to his book. He thought about Tucker's advice. Although he didn't want to listen to country music or hook up with someone else aboard the ship, he decided drinking copious amounts of alcohol was in order.

He poured himself a martini and put on some electronic music. The woman's voice was hard to make out, but she sounded incredibly sad. He was never sure if this song was in French, or in English. But, he was certain he never understood what she was saying even though he liked the tune. He picked up the Shakespeare anthology and continued reading.

After a couple of hours, Archer was working on his fifth martini. His head was definitely spinning. He'd put on Billie Holiday, hoping to think of T'Pol and purge whatever demons he had. Instead he thought about kissing those perfectly pointed ears.

He stared at the ceiling, playing the events of the past two days in his mind again, hoping to gain something from it, or maybe cry more ...whichever came first. He was just glad he was out in space. The last time a girl broke up with him, he ended up contacting old girlfriends ...all of them were married.

His door chimed. Archer stood up, nearly falling over. He was drunker than he thought.

He got to the door and saw Dr. Phlox grinning. "I heard you weren't feeling well, so I'm making a house call," said the doctor pushing his way into Archer's cabin. Archer shook his head.

Phlox looked over at the martini glass on his nightstand and listened to the woman with the bluesy voice playing in the background. He shook his head. "I take it things did not work out with Sub commander T'Pol?" asked Phlox.

Archer grabbed his drink and chugged the remainder. He felt like a freaking open book to everyone onboard. "Something like that," said Archer trying not to slur.

"Have you eaten dinner, Captain?" asked Phlox.

Archer thought about it. No wonder he was completely drunk; he hadn't had dinner. In fact, he hadn't eaten hardly anything all day. "No," he said. He went over and made himself another vodka martini. He held up his drink, gesturing Phlox to have one. The doctor waved off the suggestion.

"Do you think that's wise, sir?" asked Phlox staring at a man on a mission.

"Nope," he said, grinning. He took another gulp of what was in his glass.

"I can order something to eat, if you'd like," said Phlox.

"Ooooo, steak," he said. He tripped a little over his own feet, falling onto the bed.

Phlox walked over. "You okay?"

Archer scrambled to his feet, as if nothing happened. "Sure," said Archer. He'd realized he'd spilled on alcohol on white T-Shirt. "Oh, hell."

Phlox rolled his eyes and walked over to the com. He ordered something for dinner to be delivered as soon as possible. Archer smiled goofily. Phlox thought for being down in the dumps, Archer was a sweet drunk.

"So, you made your house call. I appreciate it. Thank you," said Archer walking toward the door, as if to escort Phlox out.

Phlox sat down in the same chair that Trip occupied only an hour earlier. "Captain, I wish to talk with you," he said.

That's what Archer was afraid of. "What can I do for you?" He made it to a chair and leaned back. "I'm the captain. I listen to other people's problems."

"Actually, I wanted to talk about your problems," he said.

Archer rubbed his jaw. "That's okay, I …."

Phlox continued, "I must apologize. You took my advice and it doesn't seem to have helped the situation. I was certain there would be a different outcome," he said.

"Well, ya lose some and ya lose some," dismissed Archer. He thought to himself that didn't sound quite right.

"Yes. Well, you are obviously distraught, considering your condition."

"Actually, I'm taking Trip's advice. 'Cept for the country music." He tried to cross his legs and missed. "I hate country music." He tried to cross his legs again and focused, accomplishing the feat with some effort.

As Phlox opened his mouth, Archer shouted, "Wait!" He pointed toward the ceiling as if to pontificate. "And I'm not going to 'find another woman -- pronto.'" He paused. "Not that I would anyway," he drank deeply.

"Are you going to talk with T'Pol?" asked Phlox. He was thinking he'd stop by later and give Archer a remedy for his hangover.

Archer scowled. "Don't think there's anything to say."

"And you are upset by this?" asked Phlox.

Archer's face broke into a smile. "You're trying to psycho-analyze me, aren't you?" he asked. He wagged his finger at the doctor.

Phlox didn't say anything.

"Yup, you sure are." He wanted to pinch his cheek, and then thought about touching the doctor's scales - recoiling. "Okay, I'll play along." He made his voice sound serious. "Yes. I am upset," said Archer taking another swig. He leaned back in his chair.

"What are you going to do?" asked Phlox.

Archer scratched his chin. "Well, I took today off. I'm following Charles Tucker's cure for love, otherwise known as getting drunk. I have tomorrow off anyway. And I'm going to sit down with Willy."

Phlox looked shocked.

Archer gave a deep, hearty laugh. "William Shakespeare - my book," he clarified, pointing to the anthology.

Relief crept across Phlox's face. "So, you're avoiding her?"

"Hell yeah."

Phlox shook his head. "So, in two days do you think you'll be ready to work with her?" he asked.

"Dunno," he said. "You're the professional. You tell me."

Phlox said, "No, I don't think that will be enough time. And, I don't think drinking yourself into a stupor is the answer either."

Archer smiled, "Feels like a good answer." He swirled his glass and took a sip.

The door chimed. Archer got up, nearly tripping over himself and swaggered toward the door.

"Perhaps you should let me get that, sir," said Phlox trying to intercept the food.

Phlox made it in time and looked at the steward. "Thank you."

Archer stood over Phlox's shoulder looking at the man delivering his food. The steward looked at the captain. "How are you feeling, sir?" he asked.

Phlox spoke up. "He's unwell. In fact, could you bring him breakfast in the morning? His usual?"

The young man nodded, "Of course. Hope you feel better soon." He walked down the hall.

Archer grabbed the plate from Phlox. "I'm famished." He looked at the steak and took it over to his table tucking in. After the third bite, he motioned with his fork to Phlox, "This is good. Want any?"

Phlox was not a vegetarian, but looked distastefully at the blood dripping from the meat and Archer ravishing it. "No, thank you." Archer began devouring it, making yummy sounds.

Phlox began speaking again. "As I was saying ...no, I don't think two days is enough time."

Archer shook his head and winked. "I don't really either." He bit into his steak. "So what's the appropriate thing to do?"

"Coming to an understanding with T'Pol might be a good start. For example, perhaps you need some ground rules on when she uses your first name," said the doctor.

He snorted. "Good example. Really pissed me off today when she called me Jon." He was talking with his mouth open, something he never did.

Phlox looked uneasily at the captain's open mouth. "Other ground rules might include whether you decide to be friends."

Archer stopped chewing and swallowed the remainder of food in a large gulp. He took a swig of his martini to help wash it down. "We may not be friends again?" he coughed out.

"Perhaps not. I think that's something for you to talk about and decide," he said.

Archer hadn't considered that. In fact, a large part of him thought tomorrow everything would go back to exactly how it was almost only two days ago - before he made love to T'Pol.

Phlox could tell those particular words weighed heavily on Archer. He saw the captain stop eating and take another large swallow from his glass.

Archer's mood turned somber and he realized he wasn't terribly hungry. He pushed his plate back. With a clarity in his voice, he continued. "Any other ground rules you would suggest?"

"She may want to transfer. I would consider it if I were you," he said.

Archer was absolutely beside himself. He put his head in his hands. "Do you really think she'll do that? And what will I tell the Vulcans? Or, Admiral Forrest?" he asked. He suddenly felt sick; his stomach was in knots and it didn't sit well with the number of drinks he'd sucked down.

"I didn't say she would ask for a transfer, but she might," said Phlox.

Archer's mind raced down that path. His head was hanging heavily in his hands. "I can't imagine telling Ambassador Soval that I'd taken advantage of a young, beautiful Vulcan in my custody. A Vulcan he'd entrusted me with." He looked up. "Would her people even want her back? God, what if I screwed it up so she could never return to her home?" The thought made him ill. He tried to settle his stomach by breathing deeply.

"Firstly, you did not take advantage of her. You helped her. In point of fact, you saved her life. I doubt the Vulcans would fault you for that," explained Phlox. "Secondly, she knew the decision she was making. And thirdly, I'm sure if she wanted to, she could return home at any point."

"They probably have developed a sensor that determines whether humans have contaminated them. I'm sure they could even trace it back to who the dirty culprit was. I'm sure they wouldn't be surprised to see Jonathan Archer's name flashing in bright lights."

Phlox scoffed, "Now you're just being ridiculous."

"I've seen weirder shit from the Vulcans. I'm sure when Admiral Forrest finds out he'd have my ass. I'd be drummed out of Starfleet," he said. "Generations later, people would know the name Archer, not for building the first warp two engine, but for disgracing a young beautiful, intelligent Vulcan who was shunned by her own people for her involvement with him. You know like Benedict Arnold is synonymous with traitor and Hitler means evil? Archer would mean contaminator."

"Oh, come on," said Phlox.

"Why did I ever do this? What was I thinking? How could I disrespect her that way?" He shoved his hand through his hair. "How could I take advantage of my position like that? Of course she'd turn to me - I'm the captain. Everyone turns to me." He sighed. "I let my feelings for her get in the way."

Phlox shook his head. "She knew what she was doing."

"Who else would she have chosen?"

Phlox remained silent.

"No wonder she doesn't want anything to do with me now. I'm sure I must disgust her." He shook his head. "What a fool I've been. I couldn't let her be with another man." He scratched his head. "I shouldn't have given into my feelings. I'm the captain. I should be above that." He drank the remainder of his martini in one sip.

"She obviously trusted in you for a reason, and I don't think it is merely because you are the captain," he said.

"I'm not so sure,"

"I think you should have this conversation with T'Pol, and soon. I think things will work out." Phlox smiled. "Optimism!" he sang out.

Archer rolled his eyes. He wanted to punch the optimism right out of his physician, but held back. He stumbled up to make himself another drink.

Phlox didn't want to see the captain do any further damage to his liver or brain. But, rather than speak up, he decided to leave and let the man continue. He got up and walked toward the door. Archer sauntered over and sloppily walked him out. As the door swished shut, Archer leaned against it.

He barely made it to his bed before passing out.

Chapter Five

­­When T'Pol arrived in her quarters, she felt exhausted. The constant bombardment of emotions had only increased. She could sense almost all of Archer's thoughts; he was not skilled in how to hide them from her view. She knew he was in his room at this moment brooding, although his mind felt hazy.

She decided against eating dinner. Her encounter with Commander Tucker left her feeling embarrassed. Besides, she thought perhaps Captain Archer would confide in him and cause her further discomfort.

She also had been unable to push down her own feelings. She replayed the conversation about her being wrong about humans in many cases. Perhaps she was, but he refused to see the truth. As long as she served aboard Enterprise, there could never be anything more with Jon. A relationship with him was illogical.

She lit some incense and waved it around her room, filling the space with an aroma of rlyhpa - a Vulcan spice that she thought seemed a little like Earth's nutmeg. After she smudged the room, she lit a candle and sat in front of her meditation area to gather her thoughts about the event.

She focused on the single point - the flame. She let her emotions and feelings run through her, trying to ignore them. She focused on the light. She let herself be one with it.

Her mind began to drift. She thought of the candles in Archer's room their last night together. She remembered his burning gaze as he stripped for her. She remembered feeling an excited anxiety as he unzipped his uniform. His eyes seared her flesh, as he slowly removed his uniform. He exposed his muscular chest and then removed his undergarments. He stood naked in front of her. His mind was just as naked - revealing thoughts to her she did not know he was capable of thinking. Although she was unclothed, she hid many thoughts from him.

She thought about how he walked to her slowly, drawing her into an embrace. She wanted to go wild with passion, but was afraid to lose control. She wanted to take over their encounter, but didn't want to show him how she craved him.

She wanted to kiss him, parting his lips with her tongue. She wanted to take the cleft of his chin in her teeth. She wanted to entwine her fingers in his chestnut hair. She wanted to stroke his muscular chest, and run her hands through its down-like hair. She wanted to dip her lips into his navel. She wanted to kiss up his hairy legs. She wanted to let her mouth explore his entire body and dig her nails into his flesh. She wanted to gather him against her with her Vulcan strength. She wanted to feel him. She longed to see the look of pleasure on his face.

She gasped. Only a trace of her symptoms remained - not enough to warrant this level of desire and certainly not enough to be any danger. She realized her hand was trembling as she held it to her cheek. She could not go to him for help. She bit her lip and tried to think about the flame.

'What if we have already bonded?' she asked herself. She quivered. Vulcan scientists proved that mind melds with non-telepathic species did not last. But, she still felt him in her mind. In fact, she felt his thoughts came more easily than before.

"Impossible," she said aloud. She was certain she was imagining it. And yet she heard his voice, becoming clearer, almost as if he was talking with her.

She thought again of him being naked and exposed. He put such trust in her.

'How could I be so selfish, only thinking of my needs?' She reminded herself that although they made love several times that night, she needed only one embrace to reduce her fever. Just as quickly, she guffawed at her own audacity - she had enjoyed it as much, if not more, than he did. She had not understood that Pon Farr would be so ...enjoyable and thought perhaps it was because of him it was so thrilling. Jon had focused on satisfying her desire, rather than his own. Vulcan males were mostly looking to reduce their own blood fever, giving little care to the female. She'd heard Pon Farr was painful and frightening, rather than sensual and exhilarating.

He had given himself to her completely, meeting her needs so utterly. His mind was so open. Even now her thoughts were hidden from his view, but his were clear and available. His thoughts were there, even though he knew how to hide some of them. She repaid him with pain and heartbreak, subterfuge and deception. She hung her head against her chest.

Perhaps she would go and talk tonight or tomorrow. She shook her head stubbornly. 'No matter how I feel, the end result is the same - we cannot have a relationship. He would face a court martial, and I do not wish that to happen.' She bit her lip. 'He would be disgraced by his people, and I cannot allow him to make further sacrifices.'

She could not tell him. Just as she could not tell him that she needed him, wanted him. It was for his own good. She was looking out for his best interests. He need not know that she may never be able to form a bond with anyone other than him. That thought she would keep silent.

Something crept into her mind, a thought from Jon. 'What if we can no longer be friends?' She knew this surface thought also troubled him.

She had come to value her friendship with him above all things, even more than their romantic relationship, which she treasured.

She blew out the candle and decided to go to bed early. As she put her head on her pillow, she thought of how Jon had encircled her in his arms as he slept. She also thought of his tiny and loud snores. She closed her eyes.

Chapter Six

True to his word, Tucker headed over to Archer's door. Trip rang the chime. He heard some cursing, things being knocked over and a thud as the door as it swished open.

"What the hell happened to you?" asked Trip. Archer's hair was standing on end, his eyes were bleary and he looked pale.

He coughed into his hand and winced. "I took your advice," Archer said huskily. His head was pounding and he felt sick to his stomach.

Trip walked in. "You didn't drink this did you?" he asked, picking up the empty bottle of Vodka.

"Well, about half of it," he said. He was glad it was only half-full when he started. In his state of mind, he would've tried to polish off the whole thing.

Trip shook his head. "Amateurs." He headed for Archer's alcohol cabinet and fixed a martini.

Archer shook his head. "I think a martini is the last thing I need." His stomach lurched. He covered his hand to his mouth and ran stumbling toward the bathroom.

Tucker smiled. "You'll thank me tomorrow." He took a sip of the martini he made. He began concocting something else.

After a few minutes Archer flushed the toilet and rinsed his mouth out with water. He splashed cold water over his face and through his hair. He reappeared and tip toed over to a chair. He coughed, grabbing his head.

Trip shook his head. "Drink this." He gave Archer something that looked like orange juice. He raised it to his nose and recoiled at the smell.

"Little hair of the dog, plus a few extras that'll keep you from having a hangover tomorrow."

Archer wanted to resist, but what the hell. He was already doomed. He drank the mixture and began to feel better. His buzz came back swiftly and the pounding in his head was muffled.

"It's best if you drink it quickly."

Archer nodded and drained the glass.

Trip looked surprised. "Uhm, not that quickly." He took the glass from Archer's hand.

Archer felt the pounding in his head significantly subside. He also felt warm.

Trip made another one. "You better drink this one, too. But, sip this one will ya?" He handed him the new drink and sat down.

"Should I ask what's in this?" asked Archer, sipping the drink.

"No," said Trip.

Archer sipped the drink. "Did you go see the movie tonight?"

"Nope. The name of tonight's movie was Love, Death and Crying. A French foreign film."

Archer winced.

Trip nodded. "Hoshi's taking this movie committee responsibility seriously. She's already invited other women to be on the committee and has come up with a romantic movie schedule that has half of the guys aboard the ship up in arms."

Archer laughed.

"I'd hold that chuckle if I were you. Next Friday - they've got a musical lined up."

Archer acted as if he didn't like them. "Which one?"

"Something like Westmore story."

"Westside Story?" asked Archer.

Trip looked askance. "I think so."

Archer lied, "Had an ex-girlfriend who liked that kind of stuff. Well, it is fair to have one day devoted to musicals and love stories, since you've set up Saturdays as the day to show creature feature films."

"But everyone likes movies like Frankenstein and Creature of the Black Lagoon," retorted Trip.

Archer shook his head. "Not everyone, Trip."

"You're not telling me you don't like them?"

"Do I have to?" asked Archer. He sipped his drink.

"Well, what movie would you want to see?" asked Trip. "A movie about sports?"

Archer smiled. "I like other movies, too. What about the remake of Star Wars?" he asked. "That was a great movie."

Trip shook his head. "Have you ever seen the original?"

Archer nodded. "My introduction to film teacher loved 20th century science fiction films." He paused. "The special effects for the original were awful."

"To each his own," said Trip. He noticed Archer had downed most of the drink.

Archer began to feel numb again.

"Have anything you want to talk about?" asked Trip. He handed Archer another drink, but was much easier on the alcohol.

"Yeah, so why don't you convince Hoshi to compromise on movies?" asked Archer.

"I meant about T'Pol?" asked Trip.

"You asked me anything I wanted to talk about."

Trip sighed. "Cap'n, that woman is as stubborn as the day is long. I've been buttering her up for weeks. Nothing."

"Offering to fix the tweaks at the communications console wasn't what I was implying," said Archer.

Trip raised his eyebrows as he drank his martini. "Now, hold up. Sure, she's cute and all. But ...I can't see us together. I mean, I don't think she really likes me."

Archer shook his head. "Are you kidding me?"

Trip leaned in. "You know something?" His heart was pounding.

Archer smiled. "Enough to know that you should invite her to talk about the movie listing in the captain's dining room. Just the two of you."

Trip smiled. "I just might take you up on that."

Archer grinned. "Good."

"Well," he drained the last of the martini. "I better get going."

"Thanks," said Archer.

Trip stood up and walked to the door. "Am I going to see you at breakfast tomorrow?"

"I don't think so," he explained. He thought maybe T'Pol would show up. He also thought he might be too hung over to make it.

Trip nodded. "Good night, Cap'n. Get some rest."

Archer grabbed his drink, turned off the lights and lay in bed, thinking. He thought of T'Pol letting him know there couldn't be more between them, even before her Pon Farr symptoms had vanished. He wondered whether she was disgusted to have his hands on her. Although it seemed she was eager, she did not completely reciprocate his caresses. He'd chalked that up to her inexperience, especially with a human, but maybe he was saving his ego.

She definitely didn't explore his body with her hands or mouth the way he did hers. He thought her body was lithe and gorgeous. He found the green coloring and lack of body hair made her more beautiful.

He wiped his hand over his face. His pink hairy body must've really been frightening. He snorted - a mixture of laughter and contempt.

He closed his eyes, comforting himself - he'd taken a risk to be with her and it was worth taking, despite the outcome and how he felt now.

Chapter Seven

T'Pol walked into the mess hall at 0710, ten minutes late for her breakfast with Hoshi. She could sense the last of Archer's thoughts while she slept. He thought he revolted her. Anything could be further from the truth. But, she couldn't tell him. She couldn't let him know she found him pleasing ...desirable.

She walked in as Hoshi waved her over to sit at her table.

T'Pol filled her cup with hot tea with drank deeply, walking over.

Hoshi smiled. "Good morning," she said.

"Hello," said T'Pol. She sat down.

"Did you see the captain today?" she asked. She could tell the confusion on T'Pol's face and clarified. "I mean - is he feeling better?"

T'Pol shook her head. "I have not seen Captain Archer today. I do not know of his condition."

Hoshi got up and stood in line for her food, motioning T'Pol follow her. The first officer looked around; she was out of her element. She rarely ate with the crew.

As Hoshi waited in line for a cold bowl of cereal, she asked rhetorically. "I wonder what's wrong with him?"

"Hmmmm," said T'Pol absently. She chose a grain bar.

"Yesterday, you said he was upset with you. Does it have something to do with his illness?"

T'Pol drank her tea. "Possibly."

Hoshi corrected herself. This was going to be much harder than she thought. "If you don't want to talk about it that's okay," she said hoping to trump her.

T'Pol nodded. "I ...appreciate that sentiment, Ensign."

Hoshi shook her head and dug into her cereal. "Did you go to the movie last night?"

"I did not realize there was one playing. What was the name?" asked T'Pol.

"It's a great one - Love, Death and Crying ...the 2050 classic of a man who loved a woman," said Hoshi. "She was unable to return his love and he committed suicide."

T'Pol dropped her mouth. "The premise of the movie sounds extremely ...depressing."

Hoshi nodded. "Sad, but beautiful. It's French."

"Beautiful?"

Hoshi sighed, "Even things that are unpleasant can be beautiful."

"I find the thought ...disturbing," said T'Pol.

Hoshi giggled. "Much of Earth's great literature includes sacrifice people make for love - Wuthering Heights, The Scarlet Letter, Romeo and Juliet, Much Ado About Nothing. I could go on."

T'Pol stabbed her grain bar, cutting into it. "I find it illogical."

"My point is that love and unrequited love is one of the deepest feelings humans have, T'Pol. And with love comes sacrifice, including self-sacrifice." She dug into her cereal. "Our entire history is based on this idea. In fact, many of our religions are funded on the principle of sacrifice - Christianity, Judaism, Buddhism and many others." She ate eagerly. "I guess that's why so many art forms draw upon this experience."

T'Pol's eyebrows knotted together and her lips seem to draw down. "I wish to talk about something else, if you please." She paused, not knowing what to say to the ensign. "I would be ...happy to show you how to work the science station if you are interested."

"That'd be great," said Hoshi. "I'm not very technically minded."

"I think you are incorrect. Your ability to quickly and efficiently learn languages provides an eye for detail. That is all you need to understand the mechanics."

"Want to meet tomorrow morning? 1000?" asked Hoshi.

"That time is agreeable."

"Good." Hoshi decided to push the conversation. "What do you find disturbing about sacrifice?"

T'Pol seemed to sigh and put down her utensil. "I do not find sacrifice in general disturbing. Surak taught sacrifice as he asked the Vulcans to seek and teach logic. Those who did not wish him to spread this message killed him. He knew his death was imminent, but ... felt ...strongly in his cause."

Hoshi furrowed her eyebrows. "Did I miss something? If you aren't bothered by this concept, then why don't you want to talk about it?"

T'Pol bit her lip. "It is ...personal."

Hoshi knew she hit a nerve. "Okay." She noticed T'Pol had stopped eating breakfast. "I'm sorry, T'Pol. I didn't mean to upset you."

T'Pol nodded. "I do not feel upset, but do feel ...unsettled. However, it is not your fault."

To Hoshi she was agreeing that she was upset; T'Pol usually denied feeling anything. "Is there something I can do to help?"

She cocked her eyebrow. "Not at this time, but I appreciate the offer."

Hoshi leaned in, so no one could hear except the Vulcan. "Let me know if you need any advice about the captain."

T'Pol was stunned, but wasn't sure whether the ensign had figured out her affair with him, or was insinuating something else. Hoshi continued in her normal voice. "I have to go to work. Let me know if you change your mind." She waved. "See you tomorrow at 1000."

Chapter Eight

Archer woke up to possibly the worst hangover he'd ever had. He corrected himself - he'd had worse. But, this was definitely the worst hangover he'd had in years. He thought about not drinking ever again and then thought about Tucker promising that a little hair of the dog would make him feel better. The idea of pouring a Vodka martini made him cringe. He made a beeline for the bathroom.

The door chimed as the steward called out, "Breakfast, sir."

Archer barely yelled, "Thanks ...go ahead and leave it in the hall," before turning back to the toilet and emptying his stomach.

He stood, wobbly, and walked toward the mirror. He hardly recognized the guy staring back. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair was sticking straight up and his face was red. He also noticed he was still wearing what he had on last night - a stained white T-Shirt and baggy navy pants.

He shuffled out slowly and walked to his closet to change shirts.

He opened the door and took the tray. The smell of food was making him nauseous. He set it on the table and ran back to the bathroom to vomit.

The door chimed again. Archer rinsed his mouth out as he heard Phlox's muffled voice. He answered the doctor. Phlox was there with a small medical bag. Archer put his hand out, signaling the doctor to enter.

"How are you feeling this morning?" asked Phlox.

Archer took a deep breath. He shook his head, but very slowly. Phlox could tell just by looking at him that he had a significant hangover.

"I came over to give you a remedy, if you'd like it," said Phlox.

Archer nodded, but not quickly. He strained his neck out as Phlox jabbed his neck with a hypospray.

"You're not going to run any marathons, but you'll feel better," explained Phlox.

"I already do," confirmed Archer. His head didn't feel sluggish and breakfast actually sounded okay.

"I hope you're not going to damage your liver and brain cells again tonight," warned Phlox.

Archer screwed up his face. "No."

Phlox smiled. "Good." He paused looking at the captain. "Feel free to stop by if you want to discuss anything. I'll be there all day. That is, if you want."

Archer smiled. "Thanks, Doc. I know where you are."

Phlox grabbed his medical bag and duck-walked out the door.

Archer sat down at the table and drank his orange juice with incredible thirst. He dug into his eggs and thought about what he'd do today. He could go running later, although he wasn't sure if his body was able to rebound that quickly.

He thought he'd just read and listen to music. He decided to eat and then take a shower.

Chapter Nine

T'Pol finished her breakfast in the deserted mess hall. Phlox walked in with his medical bag and saw the first officer. She looked away hoping he would stop at another table. Phlox grabbed a glass of milk and a tray and sat down with her.

"Ahhh, Sub commander T'Pol," he said, smiling.

"Yes," she said.

Phlox began to eat a continental breakfast - complete with fruit and a danish. "I love danishes," he said with joy. He crammed one in his face. "Mmmmmmm…."

T'Pol began to stand up.

"Are you going to the creature feature tonight?" he asked. "It's Bride of Frankenstein."

T'Pol froze. She shook her head. "I did not realize they were playing two movies for each night - one on Friday and one on Saturday."

Phlox nodded. "Apparently the ladies aboard this ship want a romantic movie and the guys want a horror film."

"No, I do not believe I will attend the movie tonight," said T'Pol. She was uninterested in who wanted to see what or why.

"Might be good for you," he suggested.

She raised her eyebrow as if to answer his question.

Phlox looked around glad no one else was in the mess hall. "Your relationship with Captain Archer has taken care of your Pon Farr?" he asked.

She looked uncomfortable. 'How many people knew about their relationship?' she asked herself.

"You have not visited sickbay since that encounter, as I'd asked you to do," said Phlox.

She looked around surprised at his lack of candor. "Yes," she responded quietly. "I am no longer suffering from the symptoms." She paused. "I have not seen you because there has been little time."

"I understand that the captain has taken the relationship differently than you," he said.

She seemed vexed. "That is none of your concern, Doctor. But, yes, Jon has taken the relationship differently."

Phlox smiled. "During your earliest symptoms, you indicated you would have a mental link with whomever helped you through your mating cycle?"

T'Pol sighed. "Yes."

"Have you established this link with Archer?" he asked.

She sipped her tea. "Yes."

Phlox thought getting information out of a Vulcan was extremely difficult. "Have you maintained this link?" he asked.

She shifted in her seat. "Yes."

He looked surprised. "You said it was doubtful you could maintain this level of ... intimacy with a human."

"Vulcan scientists proved that with non-telepathic species chances were more remote that a mental link could be established or maintained." She corrected herself. "It was proven until this incident that is."

Phlox smiled. He drank his glass of milk. "Do you think this would be true of all humans, or just Archer?" he asked.

She sipped her tea. "Unknown."

"If there were no regulations, how would you feel about Captain Archer?" he asked. He knew he was taking a risk, but decided to push forward.

She considered the question. "I would consider him a friend. Although, I am concerned that possibility is becoming more remote," she murmured.

Phlox jerked his shoulders. "Why do you say that?"

"He wants to continue, and I think going into a relationship would be unwise," she said.

"So, you do you have feelings for him," clarified Phlox.

"If I had feelings, they would be irrelevant," she concluded.

"Irrelevant to whom?" he asked.

"It does no good to continue with this conversation. The end result must always be the same."

"Really? What is the end result?" he asked.

"The end result is that Captain Archer will be unable to continue a relationship with me," she insisted.

"Sounds like you may be making a decision for him," he said.

"I am simply providing the correct course of action for both of us," she indicated.

"Doesn't he get a choice?" he asked.

She was becoming irritated with the doctor. "Your argument is without merit. Jon and I have already spoken about this and have come to an understanding."

"This is the second time you've called Captain Archer by his first name."

She stood up. "This is pointless." She took her tea and began to walk out.

Phlox called after her. "Pointless because I'm right. You don't even report to Starfleet. You have little to worry about." She stopped at the door, hearing the last argument and filed out.

T'Pol was angry. She walked tight-fisted back to her cabin. As soon as she entered, she felt like kicking something. Instead she decided to go to the gym and work out her frustrations. She promised herself that immediately afterward, she would meditate.

Chapter Ten

Archer laughed at Beatrice and Benedick and their relationship. Something about it rang true. He sighed. The door chimed and he put down his book.

"Good morning, Cap'n," said Trip with a grin. He had a basketball on his hip.

Archer smiled. "What are you doing here?"

"I have the day off. I thought I'd see if you wanted to go to the gym with me. I thought we could play a little one on one basketball." He sauntered in pre-occupied with the ball.

Archer shook his head. "Phlox came by to relieve my hangover, but I still don't feel up to snuff."

Trip smirked at him and faked throwing the ball to watch Archer flinch. "Do I have to call you a 'sissy,' to get you to come with me?"

Archer rolled his eyes.

Trip continued, "'Member that time ...it was right after you found out you were going to be the captain of the Enterprise. We drank until 3 a.m., then got up at 7 a.m. the next morning for a forty mile bike ride."

Archer nodded. "I remember - it was awful."

Trip grinned thinking how sick they both were. "Come on, Jon," egged on Trip. "Unless, you're afraid of my skills."

Archer shook his head. "Yeah, I'm afraid of a guy under six foot," chided Archer. He stood up straight, showing Trip who was taller.

"And several years younger," Trip retorted.

Archer laughed. "More than several. Okay," he acquiesced. "Let me change into some shorts."

Trip nodded. "Good man."

"What else you got planned for today, Jon?"

"Don't know. Thought maybe I'd read some more." He grabbed some shorts.

"You could go to the creature feature tonight - Bride of Frankenstein. Should be a good one," said Trip. Commander Tucker bounced the ball around his apartment, practicing his shot, letting the ball roll off his fingertips as Jon changed.

"No, thanks," said Archer.

"I just wanted to warn you - I've been practicing against Mayweather," bragged Trip.

Archer scowled. Mayweather was taller and a better shot. "Practiced since the last time I beat you?" he goaded. He laced up his tennis shoes and stretched.

"We'll see who can put up, and who has to shut up," said Trip bouncing the ball off Archer's back, as he swatted it away.

Archer laughed and walked out. "Let's go."

Chapter Eleven

As they made it into the gym, they saw a female Vulcan, practicing martial arts. Trip looked at Archer and whispered. "We can leave if you wanna."

Archer tried not to look at her in detail, although her grace was breathtaking. Since she was already deep in her movements, he decided not to say anything, not even "hello."

"No," stated Archer. He walked over to the computer and said, "One-on-one basketball. Half-court. NBA regulation height goal."

The gym began to distort as gears dropped down a regulation basketball net on one side. Archer beamed and beckoned for the ball to be thrown to him.

Tucker threw it and Archer caught it, dribbling it around. He took a practice shot and smiled smugly that it went it in with a swish.

Trip's mouth dropped. "Lucky shot." He went up for a lay-up and missed. Archer went up for the same lay-up and made it with ease.

"I think I'm in trouble," said Trip.

"Oh, I know you are," said Archer smiling.

The two men began to play one-on-one as Archer managed to block the first shot that Trip took. However, he couldn't deliver to the hoop. Trip rebounded and headed for the half-court marking. He faked left and dribbled in. Archer managed to cut in for a steal and delivered a shot off the backboard. He looked over at T'Pol who looked like she was dancing.

"Over here, Cap'n," said Tucker, waving the ball around.

"I'm here," said Archer guarding him.

T'Pol looked over at the grown men acting like boys, throwing a small orange ball around.

She continued to practice her moves, as if their presence did not bother her. She knew Jon was annoyed at seeing her. She sighed. She tried to clear her mind, especially from his thoughts and pushed out her hand out in slow motion. She swept her leg out into a slow graceful kick, flicking the end of her bare foot. She felt like she was floating in the middle of a lake.

As she continued, she began to speed up the moves. Kicking her leg into the air, shifting her arms, crouching and springing. Her mind was focused, despite hearing his thoughts.

After keeping this up for twenty more minutes she stopped. She went over to grab her towel, noticing she was perspiring. As she put her towel around her neck, she looked over at Archer's physique and smiled on the inside. 'Jon has nice legs,' she thought.

Only too late did she realize she projected a surface thought to Archer. Jon was at the baseline holding the ball. He heard the compliment as if she'd said it aloud to him. Suddenly distracted, he looked over at her and froze. Tucker went in to foul him. Trip expected Archer to dodge out of the way or put up some resistance, instead Archer went down like a rocket as Trip collided into him.

Tucker's head squarely knocked him in the nose and his shoulder smashed into Archer ribcage, knocking the wind out of him. Archer had also hit his head on the floor with a loud thud. Archer groaned as blood ran freely down his nose.

Tucker felt surprisingly well. He launched to his feet and decided to take advantage of his friend lying on the deck. He went up and made an easy basket.

As Archer held his nose as he looked up. "Uhm, you're not going to count that are you?"

Tucker started strutting behind the basket. He grinned at his friend. "Come on, six to two."

Archer corrected, "Six to zero."

"I called no fouls before the game," said Tucker. "Six to two."

Archer scratched his head. "All right. Six to two." Archer's nose was still bleeding. He looked up at the ceiling, irritated. He hoped it would stop soon. After about a minute and a few more jump shots from Trip, Archer realized it was going to be much harder to stop the flow of blood. "Trip, could you get a towel?" Blood had started to trickle down his chin.

"I guess that's the least I can do," said Trip.

T'Pol looked over with some concern and walked over. "You may have mine," she said crouching down to Archer and holding out her towel.

Archer still holding his head up knew she would offer it. He sighed, "Thanks, T'Pol." He covered his nose and held it.

She put her hands over his. "It might help, if you held it this way." She corrected his hands and held them for a few seconds, pinching his nose.

"I got it," he said moving his hands slightly away from hers.

Trip watched the two thinking perhaps he should give them a moment alone. He coughed. "I'll go get some ice for you."

Archer protested as T'Pol nodded. "Excellent idea," she said.

Archer glared at Trip as he scurried out.

"May I see your wound?" T'Pol asked putting her hands over his.

He held his hand on his nose. "Listen, T'Pol, I don't really want to talk. I feel fine. Just ...let me get on with the game."

She gently moved his hand back and noticed his eyes were already turning a light shade of purple. "I am ...glad that Commander Tucker is retrieving ice for you."

He nodded. He wanted to be left alone, yet she continued to hang around like a nursemaid.

She wiped the blood from his face, careful not to touch his nose.

"Quit," he snapped. He grabbed the towel away from her.

Her face flushed.

"What do you want from me?" he asked. It bothered him that she knew all of his thoughts. He knew he was an open book. He wanted to hide some of the things in his brain, but had already given them to her. What purpose would it serve to sequester them now?

"I do not know," she said. She knew he was incredibly confused. And he knew she was equally confused.

He stood up. "Tell Trip I'll be in my cabin," he said. He held his head back as he walked out the door.

"Captain, I would like to have dinner with you," she called out, hoping her voice would reach him.

Archer stopped in his tracks and turned around. He had never known his science officer to raise her voice. Ever.

"1800 in my quarters," she said.

He scowled.

"I would like to discuss things we are both thinking of - whether we continue as friends ...and whether I transfer," she clarified.

He nodded. "Okay. I'll meet you there."

T'Pol nodded. "Thank you, sir."

He shook his head. Captain, Jon, sir. He was totally confused.

T'Pol stood watching after the door. She began gathering up her belongings, including the towel she'd lent Jon when Trip walked in.

"Where's Jon?" he asked, holding a large bag of ice.

"He has returned to his cabin," she explained.

Trip folded his arms. "T'Pol, I'm only saying this because Jon is my friend."

She raised her eyebrow.

"Take it easy on him."

"I do not understand," she replied.

"I'm pretty sure in your mind, you've chosen the most logical path. And, I'm pretty sure you'd like that path to include Jon, but for whatever reason, you've blown him off," clarified. "Take it easy him, he's only human. He's bound to feel all mixed up and illogical."

T'Pol raised both eyebrows. "Commander Tucker, I assure you …."

"Just ... just go easy on him," Trip said as he threw the bag of ice to her and walked out the door.

Chapter Twelve

Archer decided to stop by sickbay on the way back to his cabin. His head hurt and he was having difficulty breathing out of his nose.

As soon as Archer walked in, Phlox turned to him. "Which sport was it this time?"

"Basketball." Archer squinted. "How did you know?"

He touched Archer's nose, causing him to jump. "Lucky guess." Phlox pointed to the biobed, as Archer lifted himself onto it. Mayweather, Tucker and Archer were his most frequent patients - all had an eagerness for sports ...and sports-related injuries.

Phlox continued, "The swelling has just begun. I think a couple of things will help." He jabbed Archer with a hypospray. Archer felt a little woozy.

Phlox touched the purple circles beginning to form underneath Archer's eyes. "This hurt?"

Archer winced only slightly. "Not much." He began to massage his neck with his hand.

Phlox waddled over to his medical area and put something together. "See Sub commander T'Pol at the gym?"

Archer looked stunned, letting his hand drop. "Another lucky guess?"

"Your tension." Phlox held a nasal spray out. "This might help with you nose. Breathe it in."

Archer shrugged and squeezed the contents into his nose. His head felt light, but he was able to breathe. He also noticed the pain in his nose and under his eyes was gone.

"Better?" asked Phlox.

Archer nodded. "Much. Thanks, Doc." He began to pull himself off the biobed, when Phlox spoke again.

"Wait, before you go ...T'Pol may has initiated a mental link with you. Are you able to hear her thoughts?" asked Phlox.

Archer bit the inside of his cheek. "Yes."

Phlox nodded and waved a medical scanner in front of him. "Are they more intense now than before?"

Archer nodded. "Yes, they're definitely more intense now."

Phlox nodded. "I see. Hmmmm …." He walked over and checked Archer's medical records.

"Captain, has anyone in your family had telepathy?" asked Phlox.

Archer looked at him like he was crazy. "Not that I'm aware of."

"This link you have with T'Pol ...can you describe it?"

He sighed. "I hear her voice inside my head. Sometimes it sounds faint like a whisper and sometimes it seems clear - as clear as you're talking with me now. I also feel like sometimes there's a wall there ...something that's muffling her voice."

Phlox nodded. "Ahhhh."

"I've been wondering whether it will eventually dissipate, but her voice seems to be getting louder."

"What do you mean?" asked Phlox.

"Most of her thoughts have gone from a whisper to something I've been able to hear clearly."

"What if this bond between you lasted longer, Captain?" the doctor asked.

"You mean if I was able to hear her thoughts?" he asked.

"Yes. What if you were able to hear her thoughts for sometime."

"How long is sometime?" he asked, shifting.

"Permanently," clarified Phlox.

"Is there a chance of that?" asked Archer with concern.

"Yes," he said.

Archer shook his head. "How big a chance of that?"

Phlox folded his arms across his chest. "Although the Vulcans do not have much information about this type of connection, there is some information. Did T'Pol share with you that Vulcans mate for life?" he asked.

Archer looked up with shock.

"I see," said Phlox. "It appears Vulcans mostly mate with someone that they are betrothed to, and most Vulcans are engaged at an early age."

"Is T'Pol engaged?" he asked.

"I don't know. I doubt it," he answered. "If she were, it seems you would be unable to ...satisfy her," he said.

"Then, why didn't she tell me any of this?" asked Archer.

"I don't know. But, it would appear that if her voice is growing louder, perhaps you two are ...matched."

"I may be …?"

"Her lifemate, Captain," he said as Archer began to understand the implications. "She may be unable to select another." He paused. "I thought I would prepare you for that eventuality."

Archer had a sinking feeling that his time with T'Pol was her first sexual encounter, although she had discussed it with him. He began to wonder whether their time together was her first romantic encounter ever; even kissing at first seemed foreign to her. For as many thoughts as they shared, he had difficulty gathering this kind of information from her. His stomach flipped and then flopped.

Archer had to think about things and get ready for dinner in a short amount of time. "Why didn't she tell me?" he asked again confused.

Phlox shrugged. "I believe she was looking out for what she assumed were your best interests. She probably wanted to ensure you weren't drummed out of Starfleet and were able to continue on with your duties." The doctor paused. "You expressed some of those concerns yourself."

Archer rubbed the back of his neck. "She doesn't have to protect me," he said quietly.

Phlox nodded. "Love will make you do strange things."

"Love?" he asked. "Isn't that an emotion?"

Phlox smiled. "I think you know better than me whether T'Pol feels emotion."

He nodded with a smile. "Okay, but I can't really tells how she feels about me," said Archer. "I think she's been hiding her feelings from me."

Phlox nodded. "Do you think she'd share with you that she cared for you deeply, if she wanted to protect you?"

"Probably not," said Archer. He sighed. He lifted himself from the biobed. "Thanks, Doc. I owe you one," said the captain patting the physician on the arm.

Phlox watched as the captain walked out. He thought perhaps the captain would initiate some action. He breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't every day he fixed up couples that didn't want to admit how head over heels they were for each other. Vulcans and Humans were annoying that way.

He snorted. "They're almost as bad as Ensign Sato and Commander Tucker." He smiled.

Chapter Thirteen

Archer walked back to his cabin and opened the door. He had to take a quick shower and get ready. He felt he had lots of things to think about, especially given the new information. He thought about how much she was willing to sacrifice in order to protect him. 'Vulcans can be so illogical,' he thought.

He started to feel better about things. As he stepped into the shower, he remembered how she'd noted his legs. He smiled - he supposed his pink, hairy body wasn't so bad after all.

After his shower he put on a button-down, collarless white linen shirt and khaki pants, he petted Porthos and expelled air from his lungs.

He looked down at his beagle. "I guess this is it." His beagle kissed the back of his hand.

He walked out the door and down the hall to T'Pol's room. His stomach was turning. He wasn't sure he'd be able to eat. As he walked in, he saw her wearing the same black Vulcan robe she wore their last night together. His face exploded into a smile.

"You look stunning," he said.

"Captain, please have a seat," she said. She motioned to one of the chairs.

He looked at the table and noticed that she had arranged some of his favorites, including a lasagna dish. He nodded and sat down.

"Your nose seems to have healed," she remarked. She could not distinguish any swelling or purple rings around his eyes, as she had earlier

He smiled more. "Yes. Although your comments about me were distracting."

She ignored his comment. "Captain, I have noticed that you are concerned that you and I will not remain friends or I will transfer," she said. "I wanted to discuss this and a few other things with you about our working relationship since we are both back to work tomorrow."

"I thought you wanted me to think about things," he said.

"I thought you did not want to discuss this," she countered.

"Okay, T'Pol," he said. He looked at her and put his hands on hers. "First, answer me this - do Vulcans mate for life?"

T'Pol stiffened. "Most do, yes."

"Most?" He noted she was thinking almost all Vulcans mate for life. She didn't know any Vulcan who had not. He nodded. "I don't want us to be friends, T'Pol." He left his hands on hers.

She looked up him with confusion. "I do not wish to transfer ...."

He smiled. "I don't want you to transfer either." He showed two fingers palm up.

She looked at him. "We have been over this. It is impossible to …." She let her voice trail off.

He left his two fingers palm up. "Don't protect me," he said. "I don't want it, and I don't need it."

"Starfleet regulations say …."

He leaned forward, leaving his two fingers up. "Were you willing to sacrifice your happiness for me? Why would you do that?"

She looked down. "I do not know what you are speaking of."

He continued, "I know there are consequences to my feelings for you. But, I am prepared to deal with them - whatever they may be."

"Your people would never accept us," she said softly almost so he couldn't hear.

"I don't give a damn. I care about us." He guided her hand along to his, making the Vulcan sign of a kiss. The hair on the back of his neck stood up.

"You may lose your command," she stated. She didn't withdraw her hand.

"I'm willing to take that risk," he stated.

"Your father's warp engine? You would no longer live in his legacy," she said. She took her fingers from his.

He gave that thought pause. Out of all the things he could see as possible problems, letting his father down was the one that troubled him. But, something in him knew his father wanted him to be happy. He was the first interstellar captain. He already satisfied his greatest desire, being the captain aboard a starship. So what if he wasn't an admiral? Cutting his service short by a few years didn't matter as much now as he thought it would.

"Are you prepared for the consequences? How do you feel about me, T'Pol?" he asked. He wrapped his hand around hers.

"Vulcans do not …."

"T'Pol, I know you feel. I share your thoughts," he said.

Having him acknowledge this made her weak. She eagerly met his lips with hers. After exploring his mouth with her own, her eyes met his. "My need for you is unfathomable, Jon" she said. "I care not what other Vulcans think of me or us."

He let his hand brush along her cheek.

She kissed his neck. She began to release her thoughts. Archer staggered at the intensity and intimacy of them. She spoke aloud as her voice echoed in his mind. "Yes, Vulcans mate for life. Yes, I was bonded, but relinquished that bond to stay aboard Enterprise. Yes, Jon, you were my first mate. And, yes, my feelings for you are strong. I have longed for you for almost a year, aisha. I crave your body, your mind and your katra ...your soul …."

"Aisha?" he asked. His mind reeled to understand the barrage of thoughts. He knew from her mind she had called him something akin to "love."

"Yes," she explained. "My beloved. Adored one."

He swallowed. Hearing her confess how she felt was overwhelming. Her emotions were slamming into him, drowning him. He barely eked out, "What now?"

Her tongue ran against his throat. "I want you," she said aloud.

He groaned with desire. He wanted to shove the food that T'Pol had worked very hard at gathering off the table.

She looked at him and did something impulsive. She shoved the food off the table and pushed him onto it, unbuttoning his shirt.

Their lips groped each other feverishly. As she unbuttoned his shirt, she spread it out displaying his chest without taking it off.

He raised his eyebrows. She kissed down his neck and dipped her lips into his collarbone. He shivered. The images she pushed toward him were erotic and sensual. Her tongue ran over his chest.

"T'Pol," he said, combing his fingers through her hair. She kissed down to his stomach and gently bit his navel. As she did, she began to work the button on his pants. He leaned up.

"I want you," she said again. She let her smoldering gaze rest upon him and then took his chin in her teeth and bit down softly.

She unbuttoned the cuff to his shirt and kissed his wrist. She unbuttoned the other cuff and softly bit down on his forearm. She continued this tender exploration until he was completely naked. She let her hands travel back up his torso, past his neck. Her fingers were twisting in his chestnut hair as she whispered again into his ear, "I want you."

They embraced again as their movements became more passionate and heated; she pushed him away. She stood up and began to strip for him, as he had done for her. She held his eyes with her gaze as her robes fell to the ground. She walked over to him and let her mouth explore every portion of his body.

He was soaking up her embraces, letting her feel her way around his body. He felt completely adored. Her mind repeated he was wanted, making the majority of the heartache he'd had for the past two days give way to adulation.

As their embraced became more urgent, Archer carried her over to the bed. As he placed her gently laid her down, she pulled him toward her and rolled onto him.

Chapter Fourteen

It was morning, and Archer held T'Pol in his arms. He nuzzled her neck with his nose and realized with surprise it was a little tender. He kissed the tips of her ears. She rolled onto her back and looked up at him.

"Good morning," she said.

He gave a lop-sided smile. "Hey," he said.

She touched the dimple in his chin. "Last night was very ...pleasurable, Jon."

He squinted at her. He stroked her cheek. He felt a deeply touched.

"I hope you took that as a compliment," she said. Her hand touched his chest.

He held his two fingers out. "Yes," he said. "I definitely took that as a compliment." She met his eagerly.

After their fingers had caressed each other, he ran his hand down her nose and beeped it.

She raised her eyebrow. He smiled.

She was staring at him, wanting to say something, but not revealing her thoughts. Although he doubted she would tell him it was over, he felt he needed to verify it with her. "You're not going to tell me that you've decided we can't see each other, have you?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Of course not. That would be illogical."

"Yes it would," he said. His lips pressed on hers again. He drew back. "What did you want to tell me?"

"You are quite pleasing to look at," she remarked. She was gazing into his green eyes.

He grinned. "I'm glad it's not just my legs you find attractive," he said.

She cocked her eyebrow. "Not at all."

A goofy grin spread across his face. His mind urged her to detail what was pleasing about his physique, though nothing escaped his lips.

"Your eyes have a certain twinkle to them," she answered.

He puts his lips on her throat.

"Your chin has a unique mark that is uncommon to Humans," she said. "I find it most ... intriguing. I believe it is called a cleft?" she asked.

He murmured, "Yes."

"Your chest is sinewy."

She was beginning to embarrass him. "That's enough," he whispered in her ear.

She pushed him back onto the bed. "You arms and shoulders are toned. Your posterior is round and full. You abdomen is taught …."

He interrupted her with a deep, probing kiss.

The intercom chirped. "Bridge to Sub commander T'Pol."

Archer sat up with a start and looked at the time. He hadn't realized he was due on the bridge about twenty minutes ago. T'Pol gathered the sheets around her without thinking and ran to the intercom, leaving Jon naked. He began to protest.

"This is T'Pol," said the Vulcan, slightly breathless.

Hoshi's voice was on the other end. "Sub commander, we've been trying to hail the captain in his quarters. He was due on the bridge more than fifteen minutes ago," she said.

Captain Archer jumped out of bed and began to look around for his clothes that lay strewn around the room.

Archer scrambled to put on his trousers, nearly falling over. T'Pol calmly continued. "Perhaps I can reach him. If I do, I will let him know he is late."

"Aye, ma'am."

"Is Commander Tucker on the bridge, then?" she asked.

"Yes," said Hoshi.

T'Pol continued, "Would you provide a secure line to Commander Tucker in the ready room?"

The next voice she heard was Trip's. "Where the hell is Jon?"

"Trip, I'm in T'Pol's quarters," answered Archer, stepping up to the com.

"Oh …."

"I'm going to need about fifteen minutes." T'Pol's tongue ran along his earlobe. "No, better make that half and hour."

"What should I tell the folks here?" asked Tucker.

T'Pol's lips had gathered on the back on Archer's neck. He writhed. "Tell them I overslept."

"Jon, when we couldn't find you, Lt. Reed entered your cabin to make sure you were okay. He walked into your empty quarters."

T'Pol's began unbuttoning Archer's shirt. "I'm in the gym," said Archer, trying to stay focused.

"No can do. Reed checked that out, too," responded Tucker.

T'Pol pushed the linen shirt from his shoulders and down his arm as she kissed his throat. His voice quivered. "Where haven't you looked?"

"You mean besides T'Pol's quarters?" asked Tucker.

Archer winced. "Yes."

"Sickbay," said Tucker. "I could say you were getting checked out."

T'Pol began unbuttoning his trousers. "Sounds great. And, it wouldn't be far from the truth. See you in an hour. Archer out."

As the Vulcan began to kiss his navel and hips, he wanted to contact sickbay, but couldn't take a chance that Hoshi would see the communication. He hoped maybe Tucker would think of that on his own and decided to go for it.

T'Pol interjected. "I could call."

Sharing thoughts would be something he'd have to get used to. "Be my guest." He began to work at her while she was speaking, kissing her shoulders.

"T'Pol to sickbay."

"Dr. Phlox here. Go ahead, Sub commander."

"The captain is in sickbay." T'Pol knew Hoshi monitored all communications. Archer's mouth traced her throat. Luckily, his first officer was more skilled in pushing aside his thoughts and actions.

"No, he's not," reported Dr. Phlox.

"Perhaps you should check again. The crew is apparently looking for him and contacted me here, in my quarters."

Phlox thought something was odd, but couldn't figure it out. "I don't know what you mean. I haven't seen him." He paused. "I wonder where he is."

"Wonder indeed. Well, he is not in his quarters. Again, I submit he must be in sickbay."

"Sub commander, Captain Archer is not here."

"Dr. Phlox, you provided me some advice yesterday in the mess hall. I determined your were correct in your analysis. I decided to act upon your advice and believe the problem has been resolved. You were correct on your course of action as well." Archer began kissing down her back.

"My advice?"

"Yes - about choice. But, rather than discuss myself, we should get back to Captain Archer who is, I am certain, in sickbay and should be logged as such." She paused. "It will clear up the crew's concern and confusion." As Archer's lips reached the end of his spine, he thought she was excellent at conveying hidden information.

Phlox got the message. "Very well. He is here. And, Sub commander, I'm glad things worked out."

"I am as well. Sub commander T'Pol out." She turned around to Archer. "You do not have much time to get ready."

He stood up. "I don't need much. But, I do need something else."

"Surely you do not have the time for this."

He picked her up in his arms and sat her on her desk by the com, facing him. "I don't I need much." His lips ran to her ears. "That is, if it's okay with you."

She raised her eyebrow as he gathered her to him. "That is more than acceptable. I too have bridge duty soon." She wrapped her legs around his waist.

As they began an intimate embrace, he smiled. "You've got nice legs, too."

Chapter Fifteen

Tucker winced thinking of his captain and Sub commander T'Pol getting it on. He winced again thinking about how one would get it on with a Vulcan. He wished he could scrub that image from his mind.

As Trip walked out the door, Hoshi looked up. "Is the captain okay?"

"Yeah," he said. "He'll be on the bridge in about an hour."

"Where was he?" asked Hoshi.

"Uhm, T'Pol thought he was in sickbay.

Hoshi frowned. "Oh. Something wrong?"

"Nope. Not anymore." He looked over at her. He saw a few buttons on her console light up. He took the earpiece from her ear and learned in. "Listen, I've been meaning to ask you about movie night. We've got to work some sort of compromise."

Hoshi smiled. "What kind of compromise?"

"I don't know. Maybe we can discuss it at dinner tonight in the captain's dining room - 1800," said Trip.

"Other committee members invited?" she asked.

"I was kinda thinking we'd meet first and work out the kinks," he responded.

Her grin widened. "I'd like that Commander Tucker."

He smirked. "Yea, me too."

He walked over to the captain's chair and looked out at the stars. He shook his head; he had a date tonight.

[top]

Disclaimers to Star Trek, UPN and Paramount©2003.
Video captures by fabulous Enterprise 8875©2003.
Reviews provided by Monica.