A/N: Mooch-ass, grassy-ass for pointing out that suddenly Reed was called someone who massages people. Mon Dieu!

--

The first thing Archer noticed when waking up, was his head hurt. The second, he detected his face was pressed up against cold, white tile. Moving to his elbows, when his brain stopped pounding against his temples, he saw a metal door sealing off the room. Finally, he arose seeing something much more important than the makeshift prison he'd entered, which brought him to his feet immediately -- T'Pol held a baby in her arms.

"Are you all right?" asked T'Pol.

"Yeah. You?" he asked.

"Yes."

On the balls of his feet, cautiously, he approached both mother and child, reaching his hand to touch the infant's raven hair, curling ever so slightly. The baby, startled – and he knew that was the emotion she felt – batted her giant green eyes and gurgled. A smile crossed his lips, knowing the bubbles coming out of T'Les' mouth were happiness. Dodging back into her mother's shoulder, she kicked her legs with joy.

"She's beautiful," he said.

"She is," said T'Pol.

"She's okay?"

"Yes."

His hand smoothed over her head again, his fingers slipping over her baby-fine tresses, while his daughter squealed with delight.

T'Pol offered T'Les to him and he took the babe into his arms, cradling her against his chest. He'd held other infants before for short periods of time always anxious he would drop them to their doom. It was also his intention to give children back to their parents quickly, before they had a chance to stain his clothes with drool, vomit or any other fluid.

This was different.

Eyeing her features, he noticed her mouth was like T'Pol's -- full and round; her chin had the tiniest of dimples – a trait that Archer had gained from his own father; and that her hair was dark and curly, just as his had been when he was an infant. Her ears were pointy and her skin had a faint glow of copper.

Stuffed into a white coveralls, binding her feet, she reached a tiny finger and touched his nose.

The experience caused a lump in his throat and he stared down at her, his chest swelling and his heart thundering.

"I can't believe it," he said.

T'Pol put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

"It is difficult to fathom," she said.

"Hi," he said. The tone was soft, but not childish. "You've got your mother's ears, T'Les. Very becoming."

He felt T'Pol's eyebrow admonish him as she slipped her hand away, but he smiled all the same.

He said, "We're going to get you out here." Looking around for only a moment, he said a few words mostly to himself. "Although, I'm not exactly sure how."

And then, he turned toward T'Pol, who shook her head.

"I'm not sure how either," she said.

Assessing the room, he gathered this was where they kept T'Les – the small see-through crib that barely enabled the child room to turn over; machines hooked up to it to give her nourishment and other necessities; a camera; and a monitor, one that was currently blank.

No doubt Paxton is watching us now, he thought.

Yes, no doubt, she thought back.

As if to signify they weren't alone, the screen lit up for a moment fading from black to the man who shot them earlier in the corridor. John Paxton's spread into a grin.

"Greetings! I see you're both feeling better," said Paxton. "And just as you wanted, you found your clone."

"Let us out of here," said Archer.

The member of Terra Prime shook his head. "Not yet. In fact, our reporter is here. Watson and I would like for you to talk with him, Captain. We have a few things we'd like you to say to him."

"And why would I help you?"

"Because if you don't, we'll kill T'Pol."

Archer threw a glance to his first officer and then frowned.

Paxton's grin turned more gruesome. "Of course, we'd prefer not to, but … she's no longer much use to us now. And having you talk to the reporter is exactly what we need."

"You'd kill her?"

Paxton's face fell. "If we have to, although I'm betting you'll cooperate."

Archer was quiet, and then Paxton spoke again.

"We'll collect you in a few minutes and bring you a fresh set of clothes. You'll need to look like Captain Jonathan Archer of Enterprise."

---

There had been a burlap sack over Reed's head and his hands had been tied behind his back for the entire voyage; how long that journey was he couldn't be sure. The only things he had been sure of is that he was in a shuttle with other people, silent though they'd been, and the craft was only now lowering as if to land. He'd also been aware the bag over his face was itchy, hot and stuffy, making it difficult to breathe or concentrate on much other than the fact he couldn't scratch his own nose.

"We're almost there," said a man's voice. It was one Reed was unfamiliar with.

I wonder if Rachel managed to follow us.

Finally with a loud thump, his body jostled, indicating they'd landed. The hood was ripped from his head, a door opened and a gun at his chest. It took Reed a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the light that shone in, sunlight, and he eventually blinked it away.

"Where are we?" asked Malcolm.

He saw the proprietor, the one that captured him, before him still holding a gun. There were two other men as well, a short, bald one and a man of average height, skinny in build.

The proprietor leaned over. "Get up."

Reed did as he was told and made his way from the shuttle to a magnificent landing strip, green grass, in the middle of some vineyards. Only a few feet away -- a large red barn, with the door swinging gently open in the breeze. The temperature caused his skin to form goose bumps, but it was not as nippy as Paris and the clouds were white and puffy as if they'd come directly from the ocean or bay.

"Keep walking," said the proprietor.

When Reed entered the barn, two men greeted him with shackles and he was dragged to a bale of hay. Another man wearing a striped suit of the highest fashion, with a pencil thin moustache, sauntered over to him with a glass in his hand.

"This vintage is one of my best," he said.

"What kind?" asked Reed. It may help me figure out where I am.

"Cabernet."

"You are?" asked Reed.

"Miro. Welcome, Lt. Reed to my summer home," he said.

"Where am I?"

"Near San Francisco."

Malcolm frowned.

Miro said, "Thanks to you, we have a bargaining chip. This drama has played out so beautifully, like an opera. No?"

The man who owned the café nodded vigorously, which caused Reed to roll his eyes.

Miro smiled and pointed to one of his henchman, a man standing behind Reed.

"Contact Starfleet. Tell them unless they end the conference with those aliens, we'll kill their tactical officer."

Malcolm was about to speak, when Miro wagged his finger and spoke again.

"I doubt they'd want to get rid of a member of Section 31," the French man said.

Malcolm's jaw dropped by a mere fraction, which only made Miro smile more broadly, chuckling as he finished his glass.

---

Tucker finally got the call he had been expecting from day one of this ordeal, but he didn't receive it from the man he thought he would. Soval's face was on the screen, and he was waiting, patiently, for an answer to the question he brought up at least one minute ago.

What is the nature of your relationship with T'Pol?

The blonde coughed for a moment, wondering exactly how to answer, mostly because it was damned confusing.

Just dive in, Tucker, he thought. It'd been the advice of his first SCUBA instructor when he'd complained about not being ready for his first Atlantic dive, and the information had paid off. With a deep breath, Trip began.

"T'Pol and I had … relations." It wasn't the first word that came to his mind, but sounded to him like one a Vulcan would use.

"And by relations, you mean you had a sexual relationship with her?"

"Yeah." And then his face turned crimson, and he explained more fully. "Well … it's complicated."

"She did not have an affair with Captain Archer?"

"No."

"You are certain?" asked Soval.

"Yeah."

Soval's eyebrow pointed into the air. "Commander, have you shared any thoughts with T'Pol through a meld or --?"

"Not on purpose."

"Explain."

"She said … we have a bond."

"You have a bond with her?"

It caused the Vulcan to lean in a little, and Tucker knew the man had been shocked – at least Vulcanly so.

"Well, we did," said Trip.

"I see. You do not currently have one?"

"No."

"What happened?"

"She has one with her daughter … and she said it caused her to have one with Captain Archer."

Before Soval could ask him, Trip's arms crossed his chest. "She developed one with him after she found out about their daughter. It ended the one with me."

"Your feelings for her now are--?"

"I love her."

"And she reciprocates?"

Tucker didn't think Vulcans cared one iota about love and feelings, but Soval was different; he knew them for one. And, he thought, Soval is probably trying to get to the bottom of this whole perplexing thing. Hell, I'm glad someone is.

The blonde scratched his head.

"You know, Ambassador, I'm not sure if she reciprocates. To say our relationship has been confusing would be one hell of an understatement. I only know how I feel. I love her, and I'd do anything for her."

Soval pointed an eyebrow into the air, and he felt like tacking on something else.

"And I'd do anything for the cap'n, too."

"You explained your relationship with the admiral?" asked Soval.

"Yeah."

"What happened?"

"Admiral Gardner seemed to think I was covering for Captain Archer."

"You are not?"

"Of course not. Listen, I know it may be hard for someone like Drip … err, Admiral Gardner, to believe a grease monkey like me and a Vulcan can have something together, but we do or did or …. I can't explain it. It sure isn't logical. But it's there."

As if satisfied, Soval leaned back against his chair. "I believe you."

"At least someone does."

"I can appreciate your dilemma. However, given the nature of press' reaction to your captain and T'Pol, perhaps it is best to keep that information clandestine."

Tucker frowned. "You're probably right."

The Vulcan settled, fixing his robes about him. "Now, about who may have given Terra Prime the DNA of--"

"How'd you know?"

"A logical deduction, given the premise I assumed T'Pol and Captain Archer were guiltless."

The blonde widened his grin.

"Perhaps I can aid with that investigation as well," said Soval.

"Why are you helping us?" asked Trip.

Although he had more of a friendship with the Vulcan after their near-miss battle stuck squarely between Andorian and Vulcan starships, he thought this was above and beyond.

"It is imperative to work through this issue so that the coalition Mr. Samuels has discussed can continue."

Trip's cheeks sloped down. "I thought maybe you were being sentimental."

"Sentimental?" said Soval. Bristling for only a moment, he voice softened. "I owe Admiral Forrest my life. And, perhaps I have grown rather … fond of you all."

Beaming, Trip nodded. "We could use the help."

--

The room was large, like a conference room, and the leader of Terra Prime described a work of fiction (fiction, because the captain knew none of it was true) while pacing in front of him. When the lecture was over, the quizzing began and the captain, as if his heart wasn't in it, mimicked the information word for word – describing abuse, a lack of attachment to his child and a general disapproval of Vulcans.

Archer thought, Revolting. All of it.

In his mind, he heard the echo of T'Pol's voice. You don't have to. Your reputation—

He thought, Just keep focusing on how to get out.

It pissed him off that he had to say things that turned his stomach and it did bruise his pride that he would scar his reputation, but he'd do it. As he answered every question, he gazed over at his child sitting in a large black man's lap. The man held T'Les as if she like a monster rather than like a six-month old baby with a cherub face; he hadn't looked at her once and shoved the creature almost onto his knees, as far away from his body as possible.

That ticked off the captain possibly more than having to tell falsehoods that would tarnish the name Archer.

"I'll hold her," said Jon.

"Fine. Watson, give him his clone," said Paxton.

Taking her into his lap he continued to say what Paxton wanted to hear as he played with her toes, fingers and ears. T'Les seemed content, drooling eagerly, only adding to the irony.

"Are you ready, Archer?" asked Paxton.

Thinking these men would do good on their promise of killing T'Pol or hurting T'Les, a weak nod was all Archer could muster. The three stood, Watson took T'Les all too quickly, and they made their way into a small room where two men waited – a man with wiry gray hair and a PADD and an older gentleman, balding, holding a scanner. On entry, the man with a PADD immediately stood, his blue eyes shining.

"Captain Jonathan Archer?" he asked.

Jon glanced over at Paxton. "Yeah."

"Tom Foster. I'm a reporter at the Seattle Times. And this is Dr. Stan White. He's a friend of mine, a physician who wants to check up on your daughter. You don't mind do you?"

Archer shook hands, then Paxton and then Watson.

"No," said Archer.

When they were done with the introductions, they all sat and while Dr. White inspected T'Les; while Archer kept a distracted eye on her, Tom asked a series of questions.

"Captain, did you give your child to Terra Prime?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Why?" asked Tom.

"Because," he said. His eyes closed and then he looked at T'Les again. "Because I didn't want to keep her. She's an embarrassment."

When Archer's eyes fell back on Tom's he could see the man's lips twisted into a frown.

"Why is she unwanted?" asked Tom.

"She's part Vulcan."

"Kevin," said Tom, pointing to Watson, "told me you've been abusing your first officer."

Archer settled his stomach to keep from retching and then tightened his jaw. "I don't think she sees it as abuse. I think she likes it."

"You have a sexual relationship with her?"

"Yes."

"Do you care about her?" asked Tom.

"It's not that kind of relationship."

"What kind is it?"

"We like to think of it as … mutual gratification," said Archer.

Bile rose to his throat, and he swallowed it back down, staring at his child.

The answer didn't seem to make Tom happy either, and Archer couldn't blame him for looking at him with his lip curled in a sneer.

The questions continued to come, and his answers got more revolting. Playing the bigot, under Paxton's careful eye, Jon lied. At first he did so poorly, but when saw the leader of Terra Prime shake his head, his fibs improved.

At the end of the interview, the reporter across from him had changed his visage from mild disgust to overt hatred. When it was over, rather than shake hands again, Tom grabbed clumsily at his PADD and avoided eye contact.

"Stan, are you done?" asked Tom. "I'm ready to get out of here."

The doctor nodded. "DNA is a perfect match. She's Captain Archer and First Officer T'Pol's all right. A human-Vulcan baby. She's about six months old, more advanced than a human child, but not as advanced as a Vulcan one. Amazing."

Tom said, "Mind if I hold her for a second?"

He looked over to Archer who feigned a shrug. When Watson delivered T'Les into the reporter's arms, Tom talked about his own newborn.

"I have a son who's almost one now. But, I can remember when he was this size. So vulnerable and helpless. Didn't sleep through one single night until two months ago. She sleep okay?"

Archer shrugged. "I don't know."

Leaning down, Tom provided a smile and the little girl knotted her brow and then gave a gentle cry.

Almost instinctively Archer reached out for his daughter as Paxton's eyes narrowed. Tom slipped the girl into the captain's arms and the crying ceased almost right away.

"For a man who doesn't care about her, you seem like you know how to handle her," said Tom.

"I know how to handle children," he said. It was a lie, but it'd been heaped on so many others, it didn't seem like it mattered.

"Hmmm," said Tom. "She in good health, Doctor?"

"She's been well cared for. I don't know what exactly is normal for a Vulcan/human baby, but she seems fine."

The reporter collected his PADD and then Dr. White walked behind them as Watson joined to show them back to their shuttle. As soon as they'd left, Paxton turned on Archer and the captain felt obligated to explain.

"Instinct."

Paxton nodded and then stood. He said, "I don't like that Enterprise stirred up so much interest in Earth, but I'm sorry I've had to do these things to you."

"Had to?" asked Archer.

John Paxton puffed up his chest and walked a little closer to him.

"I hear there is a Vulcan saying that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the one," said Paxton. "I'm doing this for Earth, to protect us."

"Protect us? Exploration is the most exciting thing that's happened to our race – the possibilities for mankind are endless."

"Exploration invited the Xindi. It will invite other invaders, war and disease. It hasn't been that long since World War III, Captain. It also hasn't been that long since Vulcans came here to tell us how to live our lives – human lives. I'm here to liberate us."

Archer shook his head. "The Vulcans aren't here for tyranny. They're just as curious as we are, and by observing us, they can--"

"Vulcan rhetoric."

"That doesn't excuse what you did to my science officer and me --"

"Necessary. Besides I only tampered with who would be her father. We know she's been intimate with a human before – procreation between the two races is not far off."

"Don't you think that a child of two races will have the best of both worlds? Compassion and logic?"

Paxton shook his head. "The Vulcans have nothing to offer us. We shouldn't be involved in their planetary issues, and they shouldn't be involved in ours."

There's no way to win with him.

For a split second, he thought about punching the man and making a break for it, but with his child in his arms he knew that kind of getaway was impossible without risking her harm. And that he simply couldn't do.

He held the infant to his chest a little tighter and she squeaked, delighted.

"Let's go back to your cell, Captain," said Paxton.

At gunpoint, Archer filed back into his cell with T'Les and the moment they entered, T'Pol closed in right away. Before Archer could do anything else, the metal door clanged shut.

"Damn," he said.

T'Pol reached her hand up to his cheek, cupping it. It was a move that didn't startle him nearly as much as it should've and right away he could hear her thoughts as clearly as his own, apologizing deep in her soul for the hit to his character.

"I'm sorry, Jonathan."

Her hand fell quickly, and he looked behind him, at the closed door again with a sigh.

"I don't suppose you found a way out?" he asked.

"No."

He frowned.

"Is T'Les all right? I felt her cry," she said.

"She seems fine," he said.

T'Pol gathered the child in her arms and took her to her shoulder for a hug. Resting her cheek against her daughter's, the Vulcan closed her eyes and swayed a little as if to cradle the girl. The scene made Archer a little weak in the knees and he crossed over to rub his child's back feeling the soft cotton surround chubby flesh.

"Maybe …," he said. Halting his words, he dropped his hand and looked into his science officer's eyes. "You know, maybe having a child on board would be possible if--"

She opened her eyes. "You know that wouldn't be for the best."

"It'd give me more opportunities to see her."

Waiting for a few seconds, he continued.

"And you," he said.

Her hand stroked the baby's hair and she countered him.

"This bond, our daughter … it has brought up confusing feelings for us," she said.

Archer narrowed his eyes and then focused back on the door, staring at it, hoping to get inspired on how to escape. His hand ran over the smooth metal, cold underneath his fingertips, tracing to the edges.

You don't wish to talk about it? she thought

"Not really," he said. Glancing back behind him, he saw the contraption that held his daughter. "Do you think we can short out the locking mechanism?"

"No."

Shaking her head, she told in her mind she'd already thought, prompting him to pace, hoping to notice every detail of the room. T'Pol put their daughter into the crib, ensuring to leave the crib open, and then sat down quietly.

Jon's feet took him to each wall, as he'd spy a weak spot or secret lever.

T'Pol said, "You may not want to talk about it, but--"

"What about this monitor?" he asked. "Does it cover anything we can use to--"

"No."

His cheek sloped down.

"I studied the room thoroughly. I saw no way out."

It didn't stop him, and like a caged animal, he crossed in front of the metal door several times gazing around it as if the way to get out would suddenly make itself known. After a few minutes of silence passed, finally T'Pol spoke.

"Jonathan, if we do get out of here--"

"When we get out of here," he said.

"Very well – when. You and I will have a great deal to consider: how T'Les will be raised, how we will interact with her, how you and I will both be in her life …."

He said, "It doesn't have to get worked out now."

"No, but why avoid it?" When he stopped, just for a second and turned around, T'Pol continued. "We're not going anywhere."

No, I suppose not, he thought

With a frustrated sigh, he dragged his body over to hers, squashing the temptation to take another few turns in their small prison, and instead sat down next to her.

She tilted her head. "I would like to resign my commission with Starfleet."

"What?" he asked.

"Raising T'Les on a starship would be a mistake for her … and for us."

"Why?"

"A starship is no place for a child. You said so yourself, and I think if you look at the logic of the situation you'd see that is still true."

He was about to shake his head, when she addressed another problem.

"If we were in close proximity, our bond would grow in intensity."

"You don't know that."

"I do, and I think you do as well."

"But, the bond won't evaporate when you go to Vulcan, T'Pol."

"Or Earth. No."

"Could we remove it?" he asked.

"We would risk severing the bond with our child. Vulcan mothers keep the bond with their infants until their children can talk. Perhaps when she gets older, the link between us will fade."

He frowned and looked at his thumbs. "I never thought I'd be a father, but …. My dad … even though he was a famous scientist, he made sure I came first. He was the most important person in my life. I want to be that kind of man."

Is he also thinking of resigning? she thought.

Archer said, "I couldn't be the kind of father I'd want to if I were captain and always away from her."

"What would you do?" she asked. "If we moved to Vulcan, what profession would you take up?" she asked.

"I don't know. I haven't given it much thought."

"If we were on Earth, I could teach at Starfleet. Perhaps you could do the same."

"Maybe," he said. "It would be nice to live a few blocks from you two. That way I could see her more often … be there for her."

"Then the bond might grow," she said. Her voice sounded confused.

"I suppose." Gazing over her elf-like features, the ones that reminded him of his daughter, he posed a question to her. "What if the bond between us never fades?"

The two were silent, ruminating on that inquiry.

TBC