A/N: Why do I make people login to leave feedback? There have been a few trolls out there, and if you look through past and earlier stories, you might find what I'm talking about. Criticism is great; I always like to read it. I especially like story suggestions, even if I don't follow it. I like to hear when characters act out of synch or when people aren't pleased with a direction. I like to hear ways I can improve my writing and can take people pointing out grammatical errors (I usually cringe because I'm familiar with the rules and use my spell check – I just get lazy and rushed).

But, when people object to me liking a character (I actually got feedback indicating Archer would never want to learn Vulcan) or being spiteful purely because I'm writing about a couple they don't care for – that's when it's problematic. So, although some people have an entire persona set up to kinda be a jerk, making people log in usually keeps the riff-raff away.

And, isn't that sad? I think so, too.

---

According to Mayweather's calculations, it would take only four days until Enterprise reached Earth. Standard time hadn't changed, it was still set to Earth – Pacific Time, and yet the days dragged by, seemingly taking forever.

Yesterday, T'Pol had suggested she complete her work from her quarters, staying there until they arrived at space dock. Both the captain and she agreed that limiting their interaction would make the situation easier to accept and bear.

It didn't.

The same worries plagued his mind, even if T'Pol remained out of his field of vision. The child, their daughter, stayed in his mind's eye at work, and when he was in his cabin or the Ready Room he would stare at her image wondering what exactly would happen if they found this baby.

Does T'Pol want to keep this child? Our child?

Do I?

Am I ready to be a father?

Is she ready to be a mother?

What does this do to my working relationship with T'Pol?

Too many questions needed to be answered.

With more regret and confusion, he wondered what would happen if they didn't find their offspring.

How would I feel knowing my child can't be recovered?

What would T'Pol feel?

Would we be able to move on?

That wasn't the worst of things, he knew his first officer long enough and was friends with her well enough to know she must have similar misgivings and concerns. No doubt she was suffering silently.

Well after the end of his shift on the morning they were scheduled to reach Earth, he turned on the lights to his cabin and stared at the ceiling. After deciding he couldn't get back to sleep and was tired of losing so many hours to this issue, he jammed his finger on the comm to contact her. Surprisingly, or not so, she sounded awake.

They agreed to meet in her quarters.

Archer headed over to her cabin dressed in sweats, just as he might've years ago when he couldn't sleep … when something bothered him or when he wanted to give her good news.

Tapping on the chime, he waited for her to answer.

"Come in."

The door slid open to reveal his first officer clad in blue pajamas – unrumpled ones; her face was pale with dark green folds dangling around her eyes and the corners of her lips were barely turned down.

She obviously hadn't been sleeping well either.

"Thanks," he said. "I appreciate you seeing me so late."

Archer gave her a brief smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes and entered her room.

She said, "I am … relieved you wanted to discuss this. It seems we have a few details to determine before reaching headquarters."

"Yeah."

Blowing out a long breath, he sat down wearily in a chair at her desk as she folded herself in half on her bed.

"I don't know where to begin," he said. As he bit the inside of his cheek, attempting to sort out exactly what to say, he heard her speak.

"Do you want this child?" she asked.

She always did know how to get right to it.

Leaning back, he frowned. "I guess I want to find her. I just don't know what happens next."

She sighed, unVulcanly, and he decided to address that, too. "You haven't been getting much sleep or meditating, have you?"

"No. My bond with this baby …. It makes it difficult to concentrate or sleep."

"Can Dr. Phlox help you?"

"No."

He wiped his hand over his face. Hoarsely, he asked her the same question. "Do you want her?"

"Yes," she said.

He said, "If we manage to rescue her--"

"I want her to live with me, if you are amenable to that."

"I guess I didn't consider that an option." She didn't respond, so he asked, "Where would you live?"

"I am uncertain." Averting her eyes, she glanced at the deck plating.

"I don't think a starship is a place to raise a child," he said.

"I don't either."

The two were quiet, and he finally spoke into the emptiness between them.

"This isn't easy is it?" he asked.

"No."

Getting up to pace, he decided to tell her about the unflattering expose he'd perused yesterday. By the coverage news, he'd guessed there were other stories in other papers.

"I read the San Francisco Examiner," he said.

An eyebrow peaked at him, probably because no one received news while away from Earth.

He said, "I pulled a few strings to see why Gardner was so jumpy."

"And?"

"We were on page 1."

"We?"

"They speculated that the two of us had a romantic relationship and that because you wanted to stay on Enterprise and protect my reputation, you gave away our child."

The story was more lurid than that, it speculated that they had been intimate since almost the very beginning. Their romance, they conjectured, was the reason that she hadn't been dragged away by Vulcan High Command for P'Jem and had joined the crew to enter Expanse and help Earth.

There was information about her alleged drug usage, something that "tore away her Vulcan control" and allowed her to "have sex with a human."

It didn't make sense to tell T'Pol any of it – it would only upset her needlessly at a time when was already worked up. Besides, he found it ridiculous and revolting, as well as distressing – the San Francisco Examiner wasn't considered a rag.

"Why would they think such a thing?" she asked.

"I don't know."

"Do you think we will be contacted by the media?"

"Yes."

"Does Admiral Gardner agree with the press?"

"I wonder." I'm sure that's why he's hell bent on seeing us.

Silence broke out, and she made a small confession.

"I have been considering telling Trip. We both agreed to keep this between ourselves, yet …."

The information caught him off guard and he furrowed his brow. He'd suspected the two were a little closer than merely friends since Tucker had left for the Columbia, but was never sure and didn't feel it was his place to ask.

Now, he was sure.

He agreed. "I don't think it's right to have him find out by watching the news."

"It is more complicated." The Vulcan folded her arms across her chest. "There was a connection between us. With a child created, one that does not belong to him … that connection has been broken."

"A connection?"

"A bond."

Surak's memories were vague, but he was able to glean what T'Pol was trying to convey. Vulcan men and women, partners, shared a bond – a mental link.

"I'm sorry," he said. "Does he know the connection is gone?"

"No. Humans are less sensitive to it, it seems."

He frowned. "A bond isn't vital to carrying on a relationship, is it?"

"Not necessarily. My people have married species where that bond is not possible. Sharing thoughts and feelings, for a Vulcan, is difficult; the bond makes it easier. It creates intimacy."

For some reason she stared at him, and he got the impression she was trying to tell him something without just coming out and doing so. Though he waited for a few minutes, gazing back, she remained silent.

I'm imaging things, he thought

"Maybe when we find her everything will work out." It seemed like the thing to say even if he wasn't quite convinced.

"Perhaps."

"Can I do anything?"

"I would like to return to work. It was a mistake to stay in my quarters. If I have something to focus on …."

"I understand."

"Thank you."

He gave her a soft smile, one intended to bring comfort rather than suggest joy. Touching her shoulder, to add reassurance, he felt the same sensation he'd felt before – his fingertips buzzed at the contact and his stomach twisted. Slipping his hand away, he flattened his lips and furrowed his brow while she did the same.

"Uhm, I'll see you in the morning."

On his way out, he saw a couple of crewmen strolling in the corridors. Skidding to a halt as the door behind him slipped shut, the two men – Reynolds and Deacon – let their jaws go slack before straightening for their superior officer.

Archer's stomach cringed as he gave a curt nod before striding quickly to his room. When he reached his quarters, he let out a slow breath. The chronometer by his bed, easy to read even from the door, let him know it was already 0510.

No wonder they were looking at me like ….

"Shit."

---

Trip Tucker swung his long arms down the corridor as he whistled a tune he'd heard eons ago, but couldn't remember the words to. Upgrading systems, using his hands, always made him feel good like he'd done some real work. Although one day he'd like to be in charge of a vessel like Enterprise, he could never imagine all the paperwork associated with it. And guessing by the number of times his captain dropped by engineering to help with repairs, he probably didn't think too much of it either.

As he rounded a bend, he heard his name called. It was T'Pol and she looked like, as his mother would say, something the cat dragged in.

"Commander, may I speak with you?" she asked.

"You bet."

She wandered slightly ahead and made her way to her room. It meant this wasn't a commander-subordinate discussion, it was a personal one.

He usually liked those – personal conversations – but by the concern on her face, he was guessing he wouldn't be real crazy about this one.

After the door slid behind him, he frowned.

"What is it?"

Averting her eyes to the ground, she seemed to take her time in conveying whatever it was that troubled her. He took a step toward her and asked.

"T'Pol?"

"This is difficult to say."

She began pacing, her hands resting at her side rather than behind her back. For a moment, it made him think of the captain.

"What?" he asked.

"I would rather you hear some … distressing news from me, rather than from another source."

"All right," he said. Knitting his eyebrows, he took the liberty of sitting down on her bed.

"Captain Archer and I have a daughter."

It sounded like the beginning of a joke. "Huh?"

"Captain Archer and I have a daughter."

"What do you mean you and the captain have a daughter?"

He felt himself rise to his feet.

"I mean exactly that." She continued. "She's six months old, and although neither of us are certain how she was created --"

Drowning out her words, he placed his hands on his hips; the math was starting to add up in a way he didn't like.

He said, "Six months? Weren't you on Vulcan then … with the captain?"

"You believe I was pregnant and delivered the child on Vulcan?"

"Well?"

"That is absurd." Then she tipped her head at him. "Are you jealous?"

"In fact the two of you were there for about a week." He pointed. "And, if I recall, it's when you started pulling back from me and reading your book."

"The Kir'Shara. Yes, you must be jealous." The comment was said more to herself, but he was quick to point out why his pesky emotions included envy.

"Hell, you work with the guy every day, you sat there bawling your eyes out when he left for Azati Prime …."

By the look on her face, he guessed she didn't know he was aware she'd been crying.

"I knew," he said. "Your eyes were all puffy and you practically jumped down my throat when I said--"

"Captain Archer and I have never had a romantic relationship."

"Then how'd you end up with a baby?"

"I told you: neither of us are certain. Perhaps our DNA was taken because --"

"You know, it's not just Azati Prime. You two have had this," he waved his hands emphatically, "thing for nearly two years now."

"Thing?"

"Yeah … thing! You moped around for days after we heard the captain had been killed--"

"As I recall, so did you. He's my friend."

"And Malcolm told me you nearly wet your pants when he returned."

"Wet my pants?"

"Figure of speech." He wasn't about to explain the idiom, and he hurled her a frown guessing she knew it wasn't necessarily a gentlemanly thing to say. "Sorry. It's … you and he have become close friends. Sometimes, it seems closer than close. A man just gets well …. And now this?"

She sighed. "What do you want me to say?"

"You don't love him."

"I don't."

He nodded. It felt good to hear her say the words, even if he felt small for asking. Shuffling his feet so that one shoe could trace the deck plating, he began to feel even tinier now that reason was settling in. The captain and T'Pol – neither of them would try and hurt him and just a few days ago the Vulcan had planted a kiss on his lips asking him to stay.

So what gives? he thought.

She was right when she said he'd been acting jealous – like a fool. So he walked up to her and tentatively gave her a hug, one he was hoping would bring her comfort. When she stiffened in his arms, he wondered if he'd been a bigger jerk than he'd thought.

"I'm sorry," he said again.

"I am as well."

"So, where is the baby?"

"With a group called Terra Prime."

"Terra Prime?"

"Yes."

Worry began to tickle in his stomach and a whole new picture began emerging. The name sounded familiar like a bunch of kook-neo-Nazis.

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

"I'm uncertain. Our first order of business is to meet with Admiral Gardner. Perhaps he can help Jonathan and I--"

"Jonathan?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Yes."

Another huff escaped his lips and he hung his head to his chest. "Sorry."

"Maybe we should end the conversation here."

"Nah, I'm just …. I'm sorry. What can I do to help?"

"I don't know. But, if you feel up for it, there is more …."

"More?" This must be a doozie if she's saving it for last. Waving his two fingers, he nodded. "All right."

T'Pol licked her lips and then closed in on him a little. "Our bond, yours and mine, has vanished."

He hadn't had any daydreams about her in a while. Shrugging, he tried to give her a sideways smile to reassure, despite cringing inside.

He said, "You said it was a hassle anyway."

T'Pol's lips turned down by mere centimeters. "I feel my daughter's thoughts, and I'm beginning to sense those of someone else."

Trip waited.

"Her father."

He asked, slack-jawed, "The captain?"

"Yes. I had a vision of him the other day, he was looking at his terminal, thinking of our daughter, wondering if she was okay."

"Does he know?"

"I'm not certain."

Shaking his head, he felt queasy as if bile was rushing to his throat. Choking it back, trying not to make her more nervous than she already was, he decided to ask her a question.

"You going to tell him?" he asked.

"I believe he feels it as well." She nodded. "I will bring this up with him tomorrow."

"This has been a lot to take in." He watched her for a second and let his shoulders drop, touching her forearm. "It's been a lot for you."

"I debated telling you."

"I'm glad you did. I know this must be rough on you."

Giving the smallest of smiles, he held his arms open, as if to ask if he could embrace her again. She stepped toward him, but not as eagerly as she once would.

"We'll get through this," he said.

The words whispered through his hair and as he wrapped his arms around her tighter, he pondered if the end of their bond meant this was goodbye.

Don't borrow trouble, he thought.

Although T'Pol wasn't the kissy type, she usually initiated any romantic interludes they had, but he felt like she needed something … and truth be told so did he. So, he pressed his lips against her forehead.

Nothing happened.

For the past couple of weeks doing that tingled his mouth, now he just felt the warm skin beneath him. Still, she must've appreciated the gesture, because she touched his cheek briefly.

She said, "Admiral Gardner wants to see the captain and me tomorrow. Apparently, the press already has the information in the news," she said.

"Word gets around fast."

"It does."

"The captain concerned?"

"I believe he is, yes."

For a moment longer he held her and the two remained quiet. After she left his grip, the two chatted – small talk – and then he reasserted he would help her in any way he could and finally left. Walking back to his quarters, a frown overtook his face and the pit of his stomach lurched. Silently, he hoped he wouldn't bump into Archer in the hall.

TBC