Peering into the darkness, watching the torch hit the foliage in front of them, Archer gasped as he saw the light shine on a creature with six inch fangs and beady red eyes.
"Don't move," Mel said before he could say the same thing.
"I don't suppose you have your phase pistol?" he asked.
"No."
Out of the black, the creature stalked forward – a growl leaving its lips. The closer it crept, the better they could see the rest of this animal. It had ebony fur with green marks for camouflage, short. With a four-foot long body, teeming with powerful leg muscles as if it could leap on them in a single instant, Jon wondered if it could tear their flesh apart with its enormous claws. While looking at it, Archer was reminded of a cross between a leopard and a panther.
"Maybe it works like with bears," she said. "Maybe we should wave our arms and try and scare it away."
"I don't know," he said. "You have a sedative in that medkit?"
"Yeah."
"Maybe one of us could get close enough to give it to him."
"We may need it," she said.
Disregarding his suggestion, she waved her hands over her head and yelled – it was a high-pitched squeal, one that echoed in the cave and spilled out at the creature until it flattened its ears. Archer, even though feeling worse for wear, joined in as the animal backed away, cowering into the underbrush.
When the threat was over, the smaller woman pushed a lock of her black hair behind her ear and produced a smirk, one that told him that she was quite pleased with herself.
"I guess we've just proved that the Brownies were better than Cub Scouts," she said. The smudge on her cheek, one still left there from Thames crash, perked up with a little more gusto as her smile widened.
"I guess so," he said.
Attempting to give a smile back, he sat down gingerly, trying to keep from expelling his stomach again. The look on his face must've worried her, and she leaned in a little removing the grin that was plastered there.
"You okay?" she asked.
"Fine," he said. "Just tired."
"Well no going to sleep." Sitting across from she looked out of the cave and pointed at the first spark of light in the jungle. It'd be sunrise in less than an hour. "You were supposed to keep me up. That was the agreement."
"You need your rest," he said.
He fell quiet as his body quivered under his ailment, causing goose bumps to form over his arms and his teeth begin to chatter.
"You cold?" she asked.
Clenching his teeth and willing his body to obey, he spoke through them. "I'm fine."
Narrowed dark eyes stared at his, and she inspected him for a moment longer. Reaching the back of her hand to his forehead, she left it there a few seconds and then rested it against his left cheek to feel the flush of his skin. A frown spilled on her lips immediately.
She said, "You're burning up."
"I'm fine."
Ignoring him, she got to her medical kit and then waved her scanner over his body and grimaced at the display.
"You have internal bleeding," she said.
"I'm okay."
She sighed. "I want to see your stomach."
"Huh?"
"Take off your uniform," she said. The look on his face must've conveyed his resolve to leave it on, and she spoke up again. "Unless you'd like me to cut it off you?"
When he didn't respond fast enough, she pointed to the medkit. "There are some scissors in there."
Grimacing, he eventually unzipped his coveralls and pulled it down past his stomach and then glaring at the captain, unbuttoned each of the black buttons to his undershirt, and then removed that and his tank. After being instructed to lie down, cold hands passed over his diaphragm and then gently poked at his side until he winced. She took her scanner and ensured that was indeed the spot, which buzzed with annoyance to confirm.
"I've seen you thrown up a few times – any blood in your vomit?" she asked.
He rolled his eyes as she pushed a little harder into his side, encouraging the answer to come quickly.
"Yes," he said.
"Your side is warm," she said.
"Your hands are cold."
"Well, cold is what you need; it'll prolong the surgery. I hope one of the Vulcans is a doctor."
Opening a packet from the bag, she unveiled a device that looked like a stick and then shook and cracked it open before shoving it against his belly. He shivered at the concentrated ice pack. Grabbing some of the tape available, she stretched it over his skin and secured it in place.
"We got four more. We should probably give you a new one every four hours," she said. "Maybe that'll hold you until we can get to the Vulcans."
Archer played with the tape, noticing with dismay, it covered some of the hair on his stomach. It's going to be need to be replaced every four hours. He imagined sitting through having hair ripped out and curled his lip into a sneer. That's going to hurt.
"Can you sit up?" she asked.
He struggled to do so and reached for his tank to put it back on just as she reached to provide it to him; their hands touched for a second.
"Sorry," he said, keeping his hand on his shirt.
"Sure," she said, moving her hand to tuck a piece of hair her ear.
In silence, he put on his shirt, then pulled up – carefully – his coveralls and zipped them closed as she beamed at him. Although it'd been a while since a woman had showered him with attention, T'Pol wasn't so effusive, he wondered if Mel was harboring something for him. Maybe a crush? Waving away the idea as just his ego, he watched as she walked away to get more water.
-----
Ever since T'Pol had returned home, she'd been meditating. Her emotions, the result of a bond with a human, were too close to the surface and needed to be suppressed. Sucking in the incense, driving Jonathan, his wounds, the woman he was with and his attempt at survival from her mind, she sat on her mat.
He is unschooled in our bond, she thought. Flailing at her through most of her meditation were his emotions and she worked to control each of them as they bubbled to her mind: fear, concern and camaraderie amongst others.
As she breathed, unable to center herself, she heard the comm beep. Skon was on the other side.
"As you requested, I have contacted my sister."
"Thank you," she said. "Put her through."
Skon, instead of following her request, waited. "May I be candid?"
She was about to decline, when he took the silence as his cue to say something.
He said, "T'Pau will have difficulty listening to a passionate plea, one from an ambassador under her employ who is upset. Instead, she may be swayed by logic and reason."
"You're concerned I am too emotional right now to talk with her?"
"Are you?"
T'Pol looked at the candle lit next to her mat and then took a cleansing breath. "Perhaps I am … too emotional, but this cannot wait."
Nodding, Skon's image faded and T'Pau's filled the screen. Taking her aide's advice, she bowed to her Vulcan minister and then spoke in Vulcan to the woman.
"Greetings," said T'Pol. Her fingers formed in a V and T'Pau showed her palm while producing the same greeting. Like a Vulcan, she got straight to the heart of matters. "I spoke with Admiral Gardner. He indicated you may have military forces on a planet in the same solar system as Romulus. Rather, he said you may, but you are unsure."
T'Pau's face remained stoic.
T'Pol said, "Admiral Archer and Captain Vega have crash landed on that planet, one that I believe has Romulans … not Vulcans."
T'Pau was silent.
The ambassador was frustrated, but tried not to display it. "The doctor from the Thames indicated that Vulcans are on that planet, and yet neither Commander Stek or T'Nara have information that other Vulcans are in the perimeter. Commander Stek is one of the most knowledgeable commanders, and would have information if we deployed troops there."
T'Pau said, "I do not receive daily reports."
"Minister, you told me that you caught Romulan spies, like V'Las, that look like us. It seems possible that the humans could have encountered Romulans … not Vulcans."
"I say again: I do not know."
"It is a matter of life and death for Admiral Archer." T'Pau seemed indifferent, so T'Pol called on an old score. "Vulcan owes him for helping retrieve the Kir'Shara."
"Owe him?"
T'Pol straightened, narrowing her eyes. "Yes."
"That is a human sentiment. It was logical to assist us then."
"It was logical for a man who distrusted Vulcans to help us retrieve an artifact that our priests, scholars and scientists have called, 'the greatest discovery we have ever known'? I don't think so."
"You are letting your friendship for him blind you."
So, Skon did not tell her I am bonded to him. "T'Pau, I owe him my life."
"And you owe Vulcan your life. You have sworn yourself, and your loyalty to your planet, and you will obey. Thee are Vulcan. Thy heart is Vulcan. Thy blood – Vulcan."
Inside T'Pol's own mind a war waged, one she would never imagine. Even as a friend, she owed Archer – he'd helped her more times than she could count and would do so in an instant again. More now, she was his bondmate – a step closer to what humans call marriage and yet beyond that step. And yet, Vulcan was her birth planet, where she referred to when someone asked her about home; it was why she still meditated – even all these years – as difficult as it was.
She tensed and straightened her spine. "I am Vulcan. I am also his friend."
The lead minister of Vulcan leaned in. "You will have to determine whether your allegiance to Archer is greater than your loyalty to Vulcan."
Before the screen faded to black, T'Pol asked, "Would it be possible for you to lend a ship to assist them. They need to be transported off the planet quickly; Admiral Archer has been wounded."
T'Pau's lips became a straight line. "Perhaps. I shall meet with the other ministers and inform you of my decision."
And then the screen faded to black.
Understanding emotions as she did these days – after more than ten years among humans, she knew sometimes what they were thinking simply by reading their expressions. Watching T'Pau, she knew the minister felt uneasy, as if she didn't think the people on that planet were Vulcans … and it told her everything she needed to know.
Sitting down on her bed, she tried to reach out to the man she had a bond with, remembering moments they had together – things he would be able to relate to, things that would touch him. A laundry list of moments presented itself: him picking at her food with chopsticks he was barely able to use, enduring limitless teasing from Shran, and their last moments on the Potomac together. She also saw in her mind's eye, moments when she'd cried thinking he was dead, when she'd attempted to dissuade him from fighting Shran to the death and when he'd kissed her when she'd emerged from the rubble of the once Council building.
And then a simple memory came to her.
It was the first night, as a couple, in her abode. After attending funerals of friends, the two entered her apartment hand-in-hand with heavy hearts. She led him to the dining room table and reached over to pour two glasses of wine as he picked out some music from her small collection. It was jazz; and she heaved an internal sigh that he would by random pick one of her favorites. Extending a glass to him, he gave a thoughtful nod to the city, one he could see from her window.
"When I was a boy, I used to think the city lights looked like stars."
A hand snaked back into his and she nodded. "I can understand the comparison."
He stared down at her smiling and then broke her grip to wrap his arm around her shoulder, bringing her into his chest.
"I never thought it would be this way," he said.
"So many people?" she asked. Her head turned back to the window at the twinkling lights.
"No, you and me."
She focused back on him.
He said, "There was a time …. I've had feelings for you for some time."
She'd already known that from her meld – she'd seen the initial aching of his soul, which had subsided with time, and could only nod.
He said, "In a way, you being with Trip made things easier for me."
"You cared for me all those years, even when Trip and I were together?"
He sighed. Two green eyes stared into hers and it prompted her to do something unVulcan. She stood on tiptoe and kissed his lips, gently – pushing her tongue between her lips. And when the kiss was over, she grabbed his hand and held it at her waist as he'd done at Shran's party.
Looking into his eyes, she kicked off her shoes and gently guided her feet onto his as a smile overtook his entire face. Without waiting for even a beat or asking what she wanted to do, he squeezed her to his chest and they danced.
Dancing led to more kisses, becoming more passionate as the night wore on, and finally she gripped his hand and led him toward her room. Just as they made it into the archway, he took her elbow and softly pulled her to him.
"I love you," he said.
They woke up the next morning, without the interruption of Shran or any other visitor and lay in each other's arms. The Vulcan guided her finger along his nose and chin as he playfully nipped. A slight startle from her made him grin.
"Jonathan, you said something last night – that things were easier for you when Trip and I were involved," she said. "I've been thinking about that this morning. Easier how?"
He blew out a sigh. "As your superior officer, I couldn't exactly show you my feelings. It felt good, in some ways, to know that someone cared about you like that … and could show you."
A knitted brow formed between her eyes. "In our meld, there was something …."
As he understood what she meant right away, he nodded. "I feel like I've loved you all my life."
Although Vulcan, she understood the words and closed her eyes, letting them ruminate and wash over her.
He seemed to be telling her then that perhaps he thought of her as a soulmate. Reaching through their bond and several light years, she hoped to let him know she believed the Vulcans on the planet were Romulans, even if it meant defying T'Pau's request of secrecy.
---
They'd already been making good time. Jon had an arm over Mel's shoulder as they walked more than fifteen miles, sweat clinging to their bodies. In a clearing, when they knew they were safe, they took a brief rest and sipped at water she kept in a small vessel from the medkit. They'd both been attempting to sip it, rather than gulp as he'd wanted to do.
"We don't have too far to go," said Mel.
Nodding, Archer wiped a bead of perspiration from his brow.
"You doing okay?" she asked.
"Never better," he lied.
A small smirk came over her face, but he could tell she let the comment go. "By my calculations we should be there before nightfall."
He remained silent, something in his gut still told him this was a bad idea.
She grinned at him. "When I get to the Vulcan camp, I'm going to drink as much water as I can, take a bath and put on fresh clothes."
Archer produced a small chuckle. "They'll probably insist on the bath first."
She laughed, too. "Probably. It'd be good to have a Vulcan doctor take a look at you."
"Well, I've had a fantastic, albeit pushy one, right here."
A blush came over her face and she gazed at him for a few minutes until he looked away. Licking his lips, he glanced out of the corner of his eyes and watched as she bent her head and looked down at the ground. After a few minutes of silence, and when she was through playing with the dirt below her – presumably thinking – she spoke again."I should scout ahead. Jon, stay here."
He let his body lay out onto the grass below him and looked up at the sky, the blues were strikingly vivid – like Earth's ocean. A cloud floated by and he attempted to determine its shape when memories flooded his mind.
Streaming images finally landed on one – he was dancing with T'Pol, or at least swaying to the music after a difficult day of mostly attending funerals of friends and colleagues. It was only their second day of their relationship, but he'd started telling her how much she meant to him – how much he loved her.
He'd remembered the moment, and felt a little embarrassed by it. He probably shouldn't have told her he'd been harboring feelings off and on for her for so many years, even when one of his closest friends was in a relationship with her. Another mistake was admitting there was a connection made, even as he cursed at her about his volatile emotions, threatening to knock her on her ass, on their first meeting. Jon didn't believe in love at first site, but he did believe in sparks, and the one he got from the haughty female Vulcan in Starfleet Medical had made his toes curl. It was that electricity that had no doubt caused him to be more churlish to her when she first came aboard, and for months afterward.
It took a while to determine how he felt. He loved all his crew, even their quirks – Malcolm's incessant worrying and formality even the most casual of circumstances, Hoshi's fear of every little noise the ship made and her sassiness, Travis' giant smile and eagerness to get himself in danger …. It stood to reason that he would love his first officer.
The day he realized that love for his science officer was also based on physical attraction was disastrous and humiliating. It was enough to keep the feelings that continued to grow and build firmly locked up so that he wouldn't act with such stupidity ever again. He'd even convinced himself those feelings were gone, and yet during the most arduous of times, he was reminded they never vanished entirely.
"Jonathan."
Waking him from his musings, he sat up to see no one there. It was T'Pol's voice again and this time it was clear; he could almost feel her breath against his ear. He was about to rifle through the medkit to retrieve the scanner to see what the hell caused him to continue to hear T'Pol's voice when it spoke again.
"You are not hallucinating."
He sighed, hand on the scanner and waved it over himself.
"There is important information for us to discuss."
"Shut up," he told the voice. Looking at the scanner he frowned; his concussion was on the mend and he'd suffered no other head trauma.
He felt an eyebrow raise, as if a small amount of ire bubbled through his blood.
"Sorry," he felt compelled to say. It made the ire subside immediately.
"Before you left, I performed a series of mind melds."
He waited, although he didn't believe the voice.
"I wanted to determine if there was a bond."
A warmth traveled along his skin and he blushed for a reason he wasn't quite sure.
"A bond has been formed."
"T'Pol told me it hadn't."
"I was … mistaken."
There was still a part of him that believed this conversation came from his delusional mind.
T'Pol's voice said, "Look to Surak's memories. Although we may not have as strong a bond as he felt, one exists."
Closing his eyes, his brain instantly took him to someplace … a place he'd never seen before. Sandy footsteps led to stairs and a large gong. He picked up the mallet and then rang it to welcome the wedding party. A woman dressed in a swirling purples sauntered up to him as tinny bells rattled in the background and men with ancient weapons joined.
Words tumbled to his ears.
"Krus, heh wi worla krus," thought Archer, even though he was unaware of what the words meant.
"Yes," said the voice of T'Pol. "Parted, and yet never parted."
Before he could try and wrap his mind around exactly what this meant, or would mean, her voice interrupted him.
"I am working with Admiral Gardner to rescue you. However, it appears it may be as long as a week before help can arrive." Archer got the idea maybe it'd even be more. "I understand that you have seen Vulcans on your planet."
"Yes."
And just as he was about to hear more, he felt a hand shake him, rattling him alert. The connection he felt was still there, but the words muffled under Mel's voice and his loss of concentration.
"You all right?" asked Mel.
"Huh?" he asked.
"I've been trying to get your attention for the past two minutes, but you've been staring off into space."
"I was thinking," he said. No sense in making her believe I've lost my mind.
"Your ready to continue?" she asked. "Looks like we might just make it tonight."
Nodding, he tried to push himself off the ground and when he failed, she helped him up. A grimace overtook his face as he landed on his feet. Mel crossed her arms and pointed at his side, chastising him for not allowing her to change ice packs. When he argued with her, his side rebelled and he found himself giving in and unzipping his uniform while lifting his shirt. She ripped at the tape quickly, something that still caused him give a small yelp and look over at the hair that accompanied its removal. Her fingers gently glided over the angry skin and she gazed up at him, an apology in her eyes, before putting placing a new ice pack at his stomach.
"I don't know if I can take this three more times," he said, zipping up his uniform.
"I should've put something on there a few kilometers ago, but I remember a stubborn admiral who insisted he was okay."
He frowned, but before he could argue, she took his arm and tugged him forward.
"Come on."
