Author's Note: Thanks for the positive feedback so far. I've decided to continue the story for now, and see where it goes. I had a lot of fun writing chapter 6, even though it's fairly short - I think the last few paragraphs are quite effective. Keep the reviews coming.


Archer was unsure exactly how long they'd been standing there, holding each other; he only knew that it couldn't ever be long enough.

An hour ago I was wondering if she'd even talk about what was on her mind, he thought, smiling to himself. They had ended up needing very few words.

But the words are important, he realised. Particularly for her.

She was Vulcan, after all, and whilst she seemed utterly content in his arms right now, this must all be completely unfamiliar to her. They would have to talk, and he would have to be careful not to rush what needed to be said.

She was still pressed against him, her head against his chest, and he could feel her calm, steady breathing. She had been tense for a moment when he took her into his arms, but then all the tension had run out of her as she returned the embrace.

He inhaled deeply, and was surrounded by the scent of her; a sweet, feminine fragrance with an exotic edge. His body knew that she was not of his kind, but it also knew that she was a woman nonetheless. He sighed, and felt her arms tighten around his waist.

Somehow I have come home, she thought.

Her eyes were closed, but she was no less aware of the man who held her than she would have been if she was looking directly at him. She felt his arms around her, and she heard his strong, regular heartbeat through his chest. His scent permeated every breath she took.

This experience was entirely new, and yet the primary sensation was an explicable sense of belonging. She felt not as if she was home on Vulcan, but rather that she had found a truer home; a place she had sought without even being aware of its existence.

To be with him is to be home, she realised, and the thought filled her with wonder. Wherever he is, that is where I belong.

Archer felt her press herself slightly tighter against him, and he smiled. After a moment's thought, he lowered his head and pressed his lips gently against her forehead.

T'Pol's eyes snapped open at the sensation, and then time seemed to slow to a crawl.

Vulcans were somewhat empathic at all times, but when in physical contact with many other species they became fully telepathic. There had been several brief moments in the past when he had touched her and she had begun to discern the shape of his thoughts, but her own reticence and control had always prevented her from exploring further. No such controls were in place now.

It began as it always did; a faint perception of distant sound, not unlike the rustling of leaves or the blowing of gentle winds over the desert. The phantom sounds quickly resolved into whispers, and she heard her own name echoing in her mind but in his voice.

She allowed herself to focus on the voice, and then the images came in a torrent, like a great wave washing over her as she clung to him. As the images buffeted her, so too did his emotions.

She gasped without making a sound as she at last understood the ceaseless storm of feelings that his species lived with. The images were saturated and vivid, and the emotions rolled inexorably towards her.

The planet Earth. His father. Enterprise. The mission.

For the first time, she knew what it was to feel a sense of duty. For him, it was not only an intellectual construct; there was privilege and pride and a burden of responsibility; a desire to serve and a need to prove himself. Courage and curiosity, always tinged with concern for the crew around him. These things were the underpinnings of his every thought.

And then his mind focused on her. She saw herself on the first day they met, and then the images blurred and rushed together as she saw herself at many points during the last two years. She felt frustration gradually give over to respect, and an unspoken attraction begin to develop a depth and intensity he had never expected.

Then, at last, she saw herself through his mind's eye. She saw every detail of her appearance recorded perfectly, and even felt a shiver of amusement from him as she watched the image of herself raise a delicate eyebrow.

She saw him think of her lips, her eyes, her hair, and even the pointed tips of her ears, and she felt rather than saw his smile.

I am beautiful to him, she saw, feeling her pulse momentarily race. And then she closed her eyes as she finally experienced what he felt for her.

He also felt the ocean of feeling which joined them, but she had seen only the smallest part of it. To him, she was at the centre of this ocean, and its breadth was unimaginable. In her mind she saw it extending outwards for light-years, or perhaps infinitely. She had never even considered that it was possible to experience such intensity of emotion.

Yet this is his feeling for me, she thought.

She felt his lips leave her forehead, and his presence in her mind dissipated quickly into echoes. The entire experience had taken place in the space of perhaps two seconds, and yet already she keenly felt the absence.

Reluctantly she loosened her grip around his waist and allowed her arms to fall to her sides. After a moment she felt him release her from his arms and take a half step back, looking down at her with the ghost of a question in his eyes.

"You OK?" he asked, after a brief pause, and she nodded slowly.

"I was... unprepared for this situation," she said, and he gave a small laugh.

"I think we both were," he replied.

He could see that she was unsure what to say, and he sensed that she was feeling some anxiety about it.

She's been on what even a human would call an emotional roller-coaster since yesterday, he realised. It must have been exhausting for her.

"Listen," he said, once again placing his hands on her shoulders with a gentle smile; "why don't you take a little time to think about all this; maybe do some meditation? It must be a lot to take in all at once. God knows it is for me."

She searched his face but found nothing unsettling there; he simply had some concept of how much she had gone through over the last 24 hours, and knew she needed time to absorb and reflect upon what had happened.

His suggestion is logical and wise, she thought.

"I believe that would be beneficial," she said, and he nodded, releasing her shoulders. He looked at her for a long moment before speaking again.

"I'll understand if you want to be left to your thoughts tonight, but would you like to join me for dinner later? Say twenty hundred hours?"

She felt relief, and only then realised that she had been anxious about when they would next see each other.

"That would be acceptable," she said, and he gave her a lopsided grin.

"Glad to hear it," he replied, and after another long look at her he nodded once more and walked towards the cabin door. She turned to watch him go.

He reached the door but before pressing the control he turned to face her. She was standing by the bed, and he could see his sweater sitting on the sheets.

"Consider that a gift," he said, and her eyes flicked down towards the garment before meeting his gaze again. She said nothing, but he saw her cheeks colour slightly.

A green blush, he thought. Never thought I'd get used to that, but it's kind of pretty.

He smiled for a moment, but then his face became earnest. He saw her eyebrow raise slightly, and he doubted she was even aware of it.

"Do you have any regrets, T'Pol?" he asked quietly. "About... what's happened here, I mean."

She looked back at him with her large eyes, and he could just discern a hint of the expression which passed for amusement. She used it often when she thought he had done something particularly foolish - or particularly Human.

"My only regret, Jonathan, is that this did not happen long ago," she replied gently.

He beamed at her, and she felt another surge of the emotional tide which joined them. She found that she desperately wanted to cross the room and be by his side again, and she intuitively knew that he felt the same urge. She also knew that he would not give in to that urge yet, because he did not want to rush her.

He gave a deep sigh, and then reached for the door control.

"See you at dinner," he said, and she thought that there was something else he had also said, but without actual words.

She simply nodded, and he stepped out into the corridor, the door closing automatically behind him.