A/N: Long time, no see! I'm back with a short-form story featuring ATP and a hint of P/C in all their season one glory. I'm placing this between Two Days and Two Nights and Shockwave as a canon divergence.

I don't own the characters or concepts involved in Star Trek, nor did I make any money from this. Vaguely songfic-ish of Let Me Take You Out by Class Actress, before it all goes horribly wrong. Ten chapters in total, featuring a few classic tropes. Rated T throughout.

I brought the this species back again and again during my extended universe project (Season Five, Season Six, and Season Seven are all finally complete) but we never did visit B'Saari II. This is my attempt to remedy that. Enjoy!

Let Me Take You Out

Chapter One

Captain's log, February 24th, 2152: Yesterday we made first contact with a warp-capable species named the B'Saari, and since then, we've had the honor of their company. They're leading us to their homeworld right now, and I think I speak for everyone when I say I'm glad to meet some new faces without a major incident. Sub-Commander T'Pol seems determined to keep it that way.

"Just because they are not actively shooting at us doesn't mean the situation couldn't deteriorate without the proper amount of caution."

"You're questioning the diplomatic skills of this crew?"

"Not this crew," T'Pol echoed, unconsciously mimicking his tone and vocal inflection. Early on in the mission, Jonathan had been irritated by this tendency of hers, had assumed she was being smug and arrogant given her position as observer, but now, he understood she was simply trying to get her point across. After all, they had served together for almost a year now, and he would be remiss if he didn't pick up that her misgivings lay with one officer in particular. "We have had our fair share of challenges as of late."

"If anything, that would make me more cautious," Jon countered, reaching out to hold the lift as the doors parted before them. It was a time honored routine, and T'Pol tipped her chin towards him before stepping into the corridor, resuming her graceful, carefully measured stride without pause. For a split second, he watched her go, wondering how she could be so nonchalant while reading him the riot act, but set that thought aside, shaking his head ruefully and hurrying to join her.

As much as he wanted to deny it, T'Pol knew him like she knew her own mind. His pride was still hurting from being duped by the Tandaran woman back on Risa (he should have known that Keyla would claim her family had been killed by the Cabal to gain his sympathy, T'Pol claimed, and she had been right), not to mention having to fight to take his ship back from the Ferengi. Forget going where no one had gone before - in the space of ten months, he had been kidnapped, beaten, absorbed by a giant man-eating slime monster, and gained the slow, inevitable death of an entire species on his conscience. T'Pol had been there with him through it all, and had even shown an indication of warming up to the crew, of trusting him, of putting her faith behind the ideals of their mission and Starfleet as a whole. They had seen each other at their worst and best, and all things considered, he couldn't have asked for a better first officer.

That didn't mean their working relationship hadn't been exceedingly complicated as of late.

Being bound together by the Coridanite rebels was just the start. When they docked with the Vahklas, he had actively encouraged her to connect with Tavin's crew, to learn more about a facet of Vulcan culture which was never celebrated, let alone tolerated. Soon, however, Tolaris's perverse intentions were revealed, and when he finally had him alone in his ready room, it was all Jonathan could do to keep from beating him into the ground.

At that moment, he realized how much her companionship meant to him, and just how far he would go to ensure she remained safe. An initial distrust morphed into a genuine connection and maybe something more, the sort of fascination that Jon didn't care to dwell on for too long. Part of him took a private thrill in riling her up, in bringing her tea at morning briefings, in sharing dinner with her and Trip after a long day of battling against the odds. Now, his heart skipped a beat when he entered the gym and found her running at her preferred treadmill, or when the chime to his ready room sounded and he knew she was waiting on the other side. But as much as he was enamored by his first officer, her boundless poise and intelligence and yes, her indescribable beauty, he had to remind himself that this was just a casualty of circumstance. They were so very far from home, she was the individual he spent most time with, and he would never make a move on his own, lest he make her uncomfortable as her superior officer. But still, he wondered at what could be, and what would never come to pass.

This was only temporary. She was Vulcan, after all, and practically untouchable. He could never really bridge the great divide between them, because she would always be on the other side of it, shining brighter than the sun, burning more brilliantly than any star.

And he was just a captain facing down their latest potential brush with catastrophe.

"You have to admit, Sub-Commander, our first few meetings with the B'Saari went really well," he pressed, and entirely meant it. The officers who had accepted their invitation were welcoming, kind, and interesting, the most obvious of their physical quirks notwithstanding. It had taken everything within him not to stare, and according to Dr. Phlox's assessment, they had performed exceptionally. He should know - what the Vulcans had been to humanity in terms of a preliminary introduction to the interstellar space travel, the B'Saari had been to the Denobulans, and a vast majority of his people had refused to believe they weren't alone in the universe, even when faced with evidence directly to the contrary. He didn't blame them, because although they were more than accommodating, there was no way they could possibly look past the fact that each member of their species had two distinct heads sticking out of their neck.

T'Pol had warned him of that fact even before Ensign Sato answered their hail. At first, he hadn't been sure where to look, because both heads were capable of independent movement and expressions, until he finally settled in the middle and put his all into maintaining the conversation. Their stature and build was otherwise identical to humans, save for the tinge of purple on their chins and noses, and each face mirrored the other, taking turns speaking and laughing one right after the other. Apparently, they possessed two brains but a single consciousness, and when Trip first opened his mouth to inquire into this, he had been promptly interrupted by Hoshi stomping on his foot underneath the table, causing him to cry out in pain.

His first officer was apparently worried this would happen again, because she stopped right at the junction of two corridors, clasping both hands behind her back.

"The B'Saari are valuable allies to the High Command where matters of trade are concerned," she said, her expression a perfect mask of indifference. "I would implore you not to cause myself or Ambassador Soval any undue embarrassment."

He couldn't help but laugh at that. "When have I ever embarrassed you, Sub-Commander?"

Her reply was smooth, automatic, and entirely matter-of-fact, so much so that it took him by surprise.

"Would you like me to form a list by chronological order or severity?"

There was a moment of slack-jawed, incredulous shock, and then he heard muffled laughter from somewhere above their heads. Jonathan briefly glanced all around, trying to determine where the sound was coming from, but T'Pol promptly turned and stalked down towards a missing panel in the ceiling, allowing her superior Vulcan hearing to lead the way.

Bewildered, he joined her, peering through the darkness into the maintenance tunnel running the length of D Deck. It was tall enough for someone to traverse on their hands and knees, but not crouching down; it took a bit of struggle, but a wide-eyed, fresh face finally appeared through the gap, a little mussed and streaked with smoke, but present all the same.

"Crewman," T'Pol greeted her tersely, offering a nonverbal censure for her indiscretion. In turn, Liz Cutler only grinned sheepishly, reaching down through the gap to offer her tricorder with both hands, coveralls rolled up to the elbows.

"I heard Chef talking about how the ceiling above the galley rattles every time we jump to warp, so I recalibrated the inertial dampeners on every bulkhead in this section." At this, Jon returned her smile, ever impressed by her initiative, and she relaxed slightly, pausing to allow him to read over her findings. "Thought I would spare Commander Tucker the trouble."

From the way her voice trailed off to almost a whisper, it was clear that Cutler was expecting a reprimand, which they were all too reluctant to give. T'Pol's department was full of postdocs writing first of their kind theses in deep space, but over the course of the past year, Liz had done well enough to make herself stand out. She was always eager to learn more, and it wasn't unusual to find her in the armory disassembling phase pistols under Lieutenant Reed's watchful eye. She had won over their resident curmudgeonly Brit, the engineers, and damn near everyone else, but above and beyond all of that, she had forged a deeper connection with their intensely friendly and slightly enigmatic doctor.

She had served as Phlox's field medic since their first away mission went awry, on that picturesque planet infested with psychotropic pollen, and Jon would be blind if he didn't see that something was going on between them, something that defied explanation. The good doctor had three other wives back home, but that didn't seem to bother Liz one bit. She was truly content to enjoy his company and learn more about the cosmos and every species they came across, and in his mind, truly exemplified every reason they were out there poking around on the fringes of eternity.

That didn't stop her personality from conflicting directly with that of their pragmatic, flawlessly logical science officer, nor did it dull her attempts to earn her friendship. Hoshi had fallen into the same trap before they finally came to an understanding in the mess hall one night as they puzzled over an intense translation. Now, as in every single day before this one, T'Pol was determined not to show favor, something that was curtailed when he met her gaze, frowning earnestly.

"Your initiative is admirable," she said at last, having previously earned her fair share of well-intentioned talks about bonding with the crew. "Have you heard Ensign Sato pass through this corridor?"

"About five minutes ago, on her way to the launch bay." Her arms shot out again, and Jonathan obliged, passing over her tricorder. Slowly, she began to inch backwards into the shadows, but not before offering the ghost of another unspoken question: "I heard the B'Saari have a huge zoological park inside their capital."

"You and the doctor will have your chance to visit." There was a lot unspoken there, but she didn't dare lend credence to it. If we somehow make it through dinner without causing a diplomatic incident, it said, if we can go the next few hours without weapons being fired.

"Understood, ma'am." He could have been mistaken, but he thought he saw one corner of her lip quirk up into a wistful smile. "Good luck out there."

If history came anywhere close to repeating itself, they were going to need it.

T'Pol was first to resume their trek to the shuttlepod, though this time she was slightly more withdrawn and pensive, a tiny line of worry forming between her eyebrows. It was a perfectly unconscious gesture for her, and in Jonathan's opinion, she had no right to be so damn adorable.

Ahem.

"Their prime minister promised this would be a night to remember."

He wasn't sure where exactly that came from, but it still earned a reproachful look from his first officer, as if she couldn't believe he was thinking about having fun at a time like this. Irrationally, it filled him with a renewed surge of confidence.

"I'm sure it'll be fine," he said, not so subtly jinxing them all. If only to chase away the little hint of anxiety burning low in his gut, he gestured broadly towards the hatch, uttering the fateful words he would soon grow to regret. "Come on, Sub-Commander. Let me take you out."

T'Pol offered nothing but a slightly raised eyebrow, but stepped across the threshold all the same, descending the steps to their officers waiting far below.

(to be continued)