29
------ Indicates meditation or dream sequences
…………… Indicates separation of real time events
Ch 3 Detour Through HellDr. Phlox rubbed his sore shoulder. It was still stiff from the Sub-Commander's nerve pinch that had stopped him from removing 12 millimeters of Ensign Mayweather's parietal lobe. Though he had heard about the Vulcan technique at an Interspecies Medical Exchange seminar, he had never quite believed in its effectiveness. Now he was a true believer. There was nothing like first hand experience to change ones mind! Though he had always considered himself a connoisseur of other culture's practices, this was one, he would have gladly foregone, especially when he considered why it had been needed.
It was late and the ship had been on emergency status for the last three days, but few of its crew had realized it, due to radiation poisoning they'd received from a class four black hole located in a trinary system they'd been plotting. As he scurried about feeding his various animals and watering his herbs, he contemplated writing a paper on the phenomenon that had created strange obsessions in them all, with the exception of the one Vulcan on board. It would make an interesting article for his collogues. Humming softly to himself, he let ideas for his medical presentation begin to form.
…………………………….
T'Pol sat at the workstation, in her quarters going over her notes of the last three days. She had been reading for half an hour, and with each page she had become more aware that something was very wrong. At first glance, it appeared that she had approached the problem faced by the Enterprise crew with classic Vulcan logic, but on a closer inspection it was far more than that. She had used the Science Academy's time honored method for observation and documentation of space phenomena, ignoring completely the immediacy of the situation. What had she been thinking? She was trained to not only think logically, but to make that logic work for her in just such an emergency as had presented itself.
Sitting back in her chair she realized that she had become sidetracked along the way. Something had taken precedent over the growing emergency. She had immersed herself in the power of logic to dodge the larger issue, her unusual response to what was happening to Jonathan Archer! Most telling of all was the fact that, though, even now when things appeared to be functioning normally, but she still maintained some doubts as to Enterprise's safety, the knowledge that Jonathan; no she shook her head and amended her thoughts. Now that Captain Archer was thinking clearly and back in charge, she felt, no! Vulcans did not feel. She believed them to be safe.
T'Pol took a deep breath and went back to her notes. Maybe she had missed something? There must have been a reason that in an emergency she had focused on The Captain. With renewed vigor she reapplied her efforts. Again she stopped at the first of the odd entries. When she had discovered that the illness had affected all the crew, it had caught her off guard that Archer had also been affected. That entry in itself had no basis in logic! The Captain was human therefore he would be affected! Why had she thought he would be any more stable than the rest of the crew?
Much had happened that she didn't understand and the information from her notes should have cleared it up, instead it only added to her unclear thinking. Meditation had been her safe refuse for as long as she could remember. If logic didn't provide an answer, relaxation of the inner mind was what was needed to find the pieces that were missing.
Ten minutes later she had changed into lose fitting pants and a short robe. Over the years, the silky material against her skin had become a signal to her body to begin the relaxation process necessary to reach a deep meditative state. She was confident that she would find the answers buried within her.
As she slipped closer and closer to the veil that separated the conscious from the unconscious mind, her nose began to twitch, and unbeknownst to her she picked up an unusual fragrance that had been hiding in her footlocker. Ten days earlier, the Captain had left his sweatshirt in her quarters and she had never been able to find a convenient time to return it to him. Taking deep breaths she let the smell of him guide her meditation.
……………….
T'Pol saw it again, as if it were happening for the first time. She had gone to his quarters, but not to warn him of impending disaster due to radiation poisoning, but on an errand of her own. She had delved deeper into her unconscious memory than she had planned. Her mind had taken her back almost ten days. She had come from informing Commander Tucker that the Captain and Lt. Reed were to be executed in less than an hour, on the primitive planet they were orbiting. They had to act immediately. She had not been her usual careful self when talking to the Commander. In her haste she had inadvertently stepped into his personal space. Due to his proximity, a backwash of extremely emotional human thought had hit her, before she could tighten her mental shields.
It was what the Commander had been feeling that sent her hurrying back to her own quarters, but instead of going there, she had ended up in the Captain's. Surrounded by his belongings she let her mental shields drop completely. His fragrance was in the air, and her mind felt reverberations of his in the room. In this place that spoke to her of trust and safety, she was able to set free the emotions she had received from Commander Tucker and closely examine them.
She was Vulcan and suppressed her feelings, but had lived long enough among humans to be able to recognize theirs. The first and strongest had been worry. Worry for his friend, but most puzzling of all was worry for her. Next came a need to protect. It had been a fierce primitive feeling where his friend was concerned, but underlying that was the need to protect her. It had a familial quality, as if he were an older male sibling. The Commander had always been an erratic individual, and his feelings, mixed with an echo of his thoughts, reflected that. Her logic could not make sense of what she had detected, but she could not deny its presence, either.
Her contemplation of Commander Tucker's thoughts had been interrupted by the contact of soft paws on her leg. "Porthos?" She knelt and, for the first time, ran her hand over his warm silky fur. She was unsure when the small quadruped that held the Captain's affections had stopped being just another odd odor she had had to contend with. He was a part of the unique individual who was her commanding officer, and she had accepted him as such. If at times she thought him unpleasant, she ignored it, but today she found him soothing, as he leaned into her body, enjoying the attention she gave him.
"You know he is gone, don't you?" She had seen members of the crew talk to the little animal as if he could understand, and she had always thought they were being childish. Today, she repaid the warmth she was getting from him by acknowledging his presence.
Reaching for where she knew The Captain kept his pet's food, she quickly filled the animal's dish as she patted his head. "That's the best I can do for you now. Soon your Captain will be back, and you will be all right." As she said the words she told herself that she was talking to the beagle, not to herself!
Standing straight with her hands folded behind her back, she looked around and shivered. What had she been thinking coming here in the first place? Commander Tucker's oddities must be rubbing off on her. As she looked around she detected nothing but the sounds of the dog eating, no residual emotions from the Commander, and none of what she had first picked up regarding the Captain. 'Well, his animal was fed in his absence,' she thought. Now her presence was needed in the cargo bay. They were launching that Suliban ship no matter what condition its cloaking device was in. Enterprise needed her captain and she was going to be sure she got him back!
………………..
T'Pol's eyes fluttered as she worked to take control of her conscious mind instead of using the Kalikar Method, or as humans would say, free-floating, that could be helpful when trying to find something buried deep in unconscious thought. She redirect it toward the incident that had just happened, instead of the confusion from the past. She took deep breaths and the scent in the air reminded her of the man she knew she had to find behind the veil of her unconscious thought. The mists closed in again and she took herself past closed doors to find the reasons for her illogical actions of the last three days.
……………………
Enterprise had succumbed to chaos. Everywhere the Sub-Commander looked crewmen were given to illogical and bazaar actions, with a determination that would put a Klingon to shame. She had gone to Captain Archer's quarters to try and warn him of what was going on. He had been distracted, when they talked earlier. Though he did not possess the singular focus of a Vulcan she knew that when it came to his ship and crew, nothing took precedent. In that light, his actions were out of character. What she had found when she arrived had been even more so.
It had been necessary to enter his domain against his wishes, that in itself was unusual, but the sight that had met her eyes was beyond unusual, even for a human. The Captain had been lounging on the arm of his couch, with his footgear nowhere in sight. T'Pol remembered blinking to be sure her vision had not been playing tricks on her. It wasn't as if she had not seen his feet before, just never when he was in uniform! The incongruity of the situation sent alarm bells ringing in her head. At her presence he had became surly, and almost threatening. But there was more! Now she could see what her conscious mind had refused to remember.
As he had watched her with an odd light in his eyes, she had caught a whiff of something strong and overpowering that had made her want to run, but conversely had frozen her in place, unable to unlock her gaze from his. She had a strong mental picture of being pulled against him and his lips warm and wet against hers! But when he had stepped even closer, all he had done was calmly tell her to leave. She had shivered in surprise and shook off the odd pain in her midsection that had sent cold radiating through her, as he had turned his back and walked away. Maybe she had not been as unaffected by the radiation, as she had thought? The question drifted through her mind as she redoubled her efforts to tighten her mental shields and refocus her actions. There would be no other reason for her to imagine wild thoughts about the Captain, otherwise.
When she had gripped his arm to try and pull his attention back to what was important, she had felt his confusion, anger, and guilt, rolling off of him, despite her efforts to lock out his emotions. When he had turned his attention back to her, a wall of mixed feelings had thundered at her, as he had grabbed her by the shoulders to push her out of his quarters. That time it had been stronger and had a raw and primitive quality about it. It had fascinated her and taken her breath away.
Before she could refortify her barriers she had heard his mental scream: damn Vulcans, followed by an anguished cry of her name. It had been all mixed with the Captain's feelings of loss at his father's death. Then he had slammed the hatch in her face, as he had threatened to send her away.
…………………….
"Ooohhh!" T'Pol moaned as she was thrown from her meditative state. She gasped for breath as she wrapped her arms around her middle and leaned over. Cramping pains shot through her that she knew were not only physical in nature. He was sending me away, back to Vulcan! She had remembered it all.
"The radiation poising?" She whispered as she grabbed onto the only part of what had happened that had any seat in logic. That was why she had been off track; why she had been thinking strange thoughts about Captain Archer; that was why she had felt. No! She did not feel. She was a Vulcan! She respected him and maybe Ambassador V'Lar's prediction that they would become friends was coming true, but nothing more! She was suffering from radiation sickness that had to be it.
………………………..
"Dr Phlox?" T'Pol walked carefully into sickbay. She tried to maintain her usual posture and decisive stride, but it was a battle she was losing. "I believe I am in need of your services."
"You do look a bit under the weather. Lets get you over to one of the biobeds."
Ten minutes later Captain Archer hurried into sickbay. He had just gone to bed when Phlox had called him, but had felt the need to check on T'Pol when the call came through. "What's going on here?"
"It would seem that Vulcans aren't as unaffected by the radiation as we previously thought." Phlox went over his scans one more time to be sure of his findings. "As you can see," he pointed to the fluctuations of colors that outlined her brain scan. "Her neurotransmitters are only now getting back to normal, but in the cortex of her prefrontal area, they are still a bit skewed."
"Is she going to be all right?" Archer stepped closer to the bed and watched as the colors danced on the monitor, over his First Officer's head.
"She is right here, and is very much all right!" T'Pol found it illogical that they would talk about her as if she wasn't in the room, especially when she was in complete procession of all her faculties. To make her point she sat up and swung her legs over the side. "Doctor, I see no reason for you to have bothered the Captain. He would have had my report on this in the morning."
"Wait a minute." Jonathan stepped in front of her before she could slide off the bed. "It wasn't a bother. And where do you think you're going?"
"To my quarters, there is work to be done." She put on her coolest face, and dared either man to try and stop her. "It was necessary for the doctor to confirm my diagnosis. Now that he has, I am through here." She needed to make some small amendments to her notes, before they were placed in the main computer. It would not do for others to see what she had discovered about herself.
"Not so fast Sub-Commander, I haven't releases you from Sickbay." Phlox smiled at her as he ran through her scan one more time. "I'm afraid I was remiss in my duties, Captain. T'Pol appeared to be functioning normally, so I didn't question it."
"That's understandable, you had a full house in here not too long ago." Archer's stomach did a slow roll as he remember how close they had all come to dying.
"I need to get back to work." She moved to try and get off the bed, but Archer again blocked her way. "Captain, it is necessary to post warnings around that trinary system and the black hole. It appears as if no species may be immune to its radiation. I need to begin--"
"Easy," he gently gripped her shoulders to keep her from jumping to her feet. "It's already been taken care of. I notified Star Fleet and they've gotten in contact with the High Command. I'll have this latest information passed along, as well. Tomorrow we're to start dropping marker buoys three days out in every direction. And the Vulcans are sending a ship to help us get the job done."
His touch had caught her off guard. She didn't know what to do about it. She knew they had touched in the past, in fact did so on a daily basis as they went about their respective jobs. Often they stood in each other's personal space, as they talked quietly about ship's business, both on and off duty. When had that become the norm? Then there had been the time they spent a number of hours tied tightly together, while being held hostage, and when he'd been hurt in the caves on Mara 7, she had held him close to keep his body steady during the rough ride back to Enterprise in the shuttlepod. Her mind fastened on ten days ago when she had fallen asleep in his arms. Yes, Ambassador V'Lar was right, they had become friends. Why were things different now? Why did his touch make her unsure of proper actions? His body was still leaning against her bed with his hip almost touching her thigh and his arm was behind her, not touching, but if she leaned back in the slightest, it would be there to support her.
"Be sure the Vulcans realize that though they are affected, its symptoms are subtle in them, but they last longer." The doctor and the Captain were deep in conversation, and she realized she had missed a good deal of it. "In fact, it might be best if I contact my counterparts within Vulcan Space Medical, with a full report of my findings."
"Good, now may I please return to my quarters?" T'Pol kept a tight grip on her careening insides. It was obvious that she had been out of control, which was unthinkable for a Vulcan. She realized she was not back to normal yet so the only logical place for her to be was the privacy of her cabin.
"I see no reason why you need to spend the night here, as long as you come back in the morning for a repeat of the scan. Your obsession was to save the ship. We are no longer in danger, so even if you have residual affects, there would be no need to act on them."
"Vulcan's do not have obsessions!" She arched her brow into her mahogany bangs, as she slid off the biobed.
"It would appear this one did, for which I'm very thankful." Archer reached for her arm to help her down, then pulled back when he knew she was steady on her feet.
Phlox watched, with interest, the interchange between the two people. The Captain had touched her, not once, but twice, and more surprisingly, she had let him. He was a keen observer of people and ever since the night that Archer had spent in sickbay with his dog, he had been paying special attention to these two. 'Well well,' he grinned to himself.' "Sub-Commander, that was your only obsession? The deep need to find the reason behind what was happening to the crew, I mean?"
"As I've already stated, Vulcans do not have obsessions. We may become involved in our work, but that is all." It wasn't a lie, she assured herself. She had been involved in her work. Hers had been to find out what was happening to the crew, and the captain was part of the crew. The fact that his problems had been more important to her was irrelevant, now that she realized it was caused by the radiation.
"Come on, I'll walk you back." Archer offered as they left sickbay.
"It is not necessary, besides I had planned on stopping for a cup of tea." It was soothing to have him back to his normal self.
"We can both have some then." He smiled down at her. "It'll give you a chance to tell me how in the hell you figured out that you were ill, too, when even Phlox was fooled." He didn't want to walk her to her door and leave it at that, but he was smart enough to realize that after all they had been through in the last few days, spending time alone with her in private was not a good idea. Her suggestion of the mess hall was ideal.
…………………..
Archer liked to think it had started for him on their mission to retrieve Menos, but he knew things had been building between them long before that. That mission had only confirmed what he had begun to wonder about all Vulcans and T'Pol in particular. They had a side they hid from the universe. She had allowed him to catch a glimpse of hers; it had pleased him that she'd trusted him enough to do so, but surprised him as well. Since the night he had held her as she slept, he found himself thinking about her at strange times of the day. It would bring his mind peace and warm him.
He remembered being jailed with Malcolm on an alien planet. As he'd paced his cell waiting to be executed, by a pre-warp culture, which believed they were a member of an enemy faction, his thoughts were about her. He had utter confidence she would be able to retrieve any evidence of their advanced alien technology, even their bodies. She would set right the wrong he had done, and keep the less advanced society safe from the cultural pollution they'd brought to them.
What he hadn't expected was to be rescued, by a team that she'd led. It made him shudder when he thought about her braving weapons fire as she blocked his body with hers, while Trip had cut him free of the noose. When he'd yelled at her to get out of the way, she had mutter. "Enterprise needs her captain," and kept on firing covering rounds.
The moment he'd been freed, he'd griped her arm and pulled her down the gallows stairs, to hide them behind something stronger than a slim Vulcan body, that had no business acting as his shield, or even being on the planet! Once in relative safety, he had to fight the need pull her into his arms and examine her closely to be sure she hadn't been hurt. He'd shaken his head and decided it had been a product of too much adrenalin, and a strong need to protect her. Refusing to even think way she had taken such a risk. Now the people of this pre-warp society had seen two different species of aliens. With every move they made, the crew of Enterprise was leaving behind more and more contamination!
…………………..
"Captain, did you wish tea, as well?"
"Whatever you're having," he muttered. He'd been lost in thought. It hadn't taken them long to get to the mess hall. The main dining area was quiet and shadowy, but he could hear water running and pots and pans being banged behind the door that led to the galley.
"Mint tea, hot, quantity two." Her clear voice rang out as they stood in front of the protein resequencer.
He took both cups and led her over to a small table in a corner, with a view of the stars warping by. Part of him felt guilty for enjoying spending this time with her, she looked so tired. "Would you like to take this back to your quarters, and drink it in peace?"
"No, Sir, this will be fine, but don't let me keep you." It was hard for her to keep her mental barriers in place, but very necessary where he was concerned.
"I thought we'd decided you'd call me Jonathan when not on duty?" He sipped his tea and was pleasantly surprised at its taste and the soothing feel of the warm spearmint flavor as it slid down his throat. "This is nice, vary nice."
"Yes, Jonathan." With very little effort his name flowed off her tongue, she found it as pleasant as the tea they were drinking. "Ensign Sato suggested it one night. I have discovered it has value after meditation, but before bed."
"How did you discover that you were having problems from the radiation poisoning, too?" He quickly shifted topics. Thoughts of her sitting in her darkened quarters with only the light from her fat squat meditation candle reflecting off her face brought back memories that were vivid and best left alone.
She gave him the easy version. Carefully deleting any reference to him. He appeared satisfied when she stated that her logic had not been appropriate for the situation.
"Appropriate or not, you saved the ship, for which I'm forever in your debt." He was enjoying the quiet moment with her and didn't want it to end. And he needed to apologize to her for what he had done. "T'Pol."
The way he said her name made her look up, unable to take her eyes off of his. "Yes," she whispered almost afraid that she had given herself away somehow and it had embarrassed him.
"I'm sorry for what happened in my quarters, the first time you tried to talk some sense into me."
"There is no need…"
"There is every need!" In that moment there was only the two of them and the stars flying by. The sounds from the galley had faded and each was remembering being locked in a passionate clash, but neither was ready to face the truth, as yet. "I grabbed you hard and shook you." He saw her open her mouth to interrupt him and stopped her by covering her hand with his. "I've never used physical force on a woman in my life. It's unthinkable that I did it to you."
"You were not yourself." She told him the same things she had been whispering to herself. "It was the radiation poisoning. I know you would never hurt me."
……………………..
Wouldn't he? He had come awfully close today. He wished he could tell her what he'd really been thinking, but he was afraid it would only make matters worse. She would probably be shocked and horrified.
What had started out as a simple task of writing the preface for his dad's biography had turned into a nightmare when they entered the radiation's influence. Guilt and anger had begun eating at his soul.
He had always believed that Vulcan's had stood in the way of his father's success. Now, he not only had one on the bridge of the ship his dad had designed, but she was beginning to quietly move into his life in ways he never would have imagined! It was unthinkable! It was unforgivable! Jonathan had fought to control the new spell that had been cast over him. But even as he had stared at the words that would help immortalize his father, he had seen large green eyes looking at him in trust and felt silky skin that carried a spicy fragrance that wound its way into his very soul. He had begun thinking of her as Arwen, but she wasn't his Evenstar! She was a Vulcan witch who had cast a spell on his soul!
Denial had shot through him, as he had gasped and had gripped the Padd in his hand while glaring at the small screen in front of him. Then the answer had come to him, if he could produce a glowing enough preface for Henry Archer's biography, he would be able to forgive himself, and she would have no power over him. Vulcans, damn them, would they never leave him alone!
All the time he had paced his quarters trying to write the words that he needed to break the spell that he was sure was just a new Vulcan trick, another way to control the Warp 5 Program, all he could think about was her. Then she'd come to him. He had watched her move across the room, hadn't even heard her words, that on some level he had known were important, but he had managed to block them out.
He had sat watching her, smelling the lemon mixed with an exotic spice that he never could place, but knew always meant T'Pol. In that moment, in his deranged mind she had been looking back at him as well. It had become crunch time. Did he do what his body was longing to do and pull her to him and kiss her until her scent rubbed off on him; or did he do as the insane anger and pain was shouting at him to do, and yell at her to get out?
Even as he had stood he hadn't known where his slow steps would take him. At the last moment as he had leaned in, a second away from covering her lips with his, he had a sharp memory of standing in a cell with Malcolm. They were going to die and what did he do? He began spouting Vulcan rhetoric! Validating everything he had fought against for so long. Hell he had sounded like a damn Vulcan as he ordered the younger man to die along side of him, to protect the Vulcan belief of Technical Contamination by a more advanced culture! Cold anger had exploded in him; anger and grief for all his father had missed because of her kind, and he had cruelly stepped away and told her to leave!
Then when she had fought him to get his attention because his ship was in danger he had manhandled her in a way that he had never treated a woman before. But he couldn't tell her that when she pulled on his arm, his control had slipped. Passion had warred with anger. Either would have shocked and probably hurt her. It had been his good fortune that she hadn't fought him to get free of his grip. If she had, the outcome might have been very different. As it was, his sanity had been hanging by a thread.
He had wanted to taste her and feel her beneath him. Shake that calm cool look off her face as he made her feel, as much for his own pleasure as in payment for all her race had done to him and his family. He knew he had to get her out of his cabin and out of his life if she was going to be safe. If it took him getting physical to get the job done he would do it. But nothing had ever been as painful to him as shoving her out his hatch, and the threat to send her back to Vulcan.
…………………….
He knew they had been sitting there staring at each other as they drank their tea. It was apparent that neither of them was back to 100 efficiency. "Well look on the bright side, its not every First Officer who gets to throw her Captain in the shower and not get court martialed." His attempt a humor was met by an expression that told him she was willing to play along. "Did you make that sorry excuse for coffee that you poured down my throat?"
Her brow tilted upward until it was almost hidden by her hair, "I believe I've heard Commander Tucker say, 'it's not the taste, it's the amount of caffeine that counts.' I was only following his advice."
"Remind me to thank Trip the next time I see him." Archer smiled as he finished the last of his tea. Quietly contemplating his cup and the scattering of tealeaves at the bottom, he felt a connection with the woman across from him that had been growing for a while.
"T'Pol, I'm glad it was me that you came to when you needed someone to help you pilot Enterprise, and not just because I'm the Captain." They both knew that there were other pilots capable of doing the job, besides Mayweather and himself, but she had come straight to him. It made a man wonder.
"You were my only choice, Jonathan." She put down her cup and slid back from the table.
As she stood to leave, his wondering stopped. There was no doubt now, something new and deep had been forged during their 17-minute trip between the stars. What the outcome would be was yet to be seen.
……………………..
Peeking out from the galley door, Hoshi Sato had been watching the couple for the last five minutes.
"What's caught your interest there?" Trip Tucker pressed against her back and caught the tickle of her hair as he slid his chin over the top of her head to look over her into the Mess. "Well if that don't beat all?"
"Ssshhh," Hoshi turned and gave him a shove to get him out of her way. "You'll disturb them by making all that noise." She looked up at the blonde man who she had found attractive for a very long time, but his reputation with women had preceded him and she was darned if she was going to let him bruise or dent her heart!
"So?" Trip couldn't see what all the fuss was about; he ate with Jon and T'Pol all the time. "Just what do you mean by distubin 'em?"
"You know exactly what I'm talking about." She challenged as she finished wiping down the counter.
"Oh no, no how, no way!" He shook his head as he followed her around the galley, refusing to remember T'Pol as she had stood in front of him and told him of the Captain and Malcolm's impending execution. There had been something then, but no, it had been his imagination. "I think you'd better have Phlox check you out for residual affects from the radiation. That's Jonathan Archer you're taking about. You know how he feels about Vulcans. If he's having a late night, whatever, with our resident Vulcan, its ship's business!"
"If that's what you want to believe," she shrugged her shoulders and silently added men, as she rolled her eyes at him. "But women notice these things, you know."
"Not all women." Trip muttered as he watched her delicate movements around the galley, and tried to figure out how to get her to notice him.
"Hhmm what did you say?" Her brows lifted in a perfect imitation of T'Pol that made him want to grind his teeth.
"Oh nothin'. Come on, I'll walk ya back." He shook his head as she turned out the lights before heading back to C deck.
"Thanks for helping me Commander, Chef would've killed me if he'd seen the mess I made."
"I thought you'd agreed to call me Trip off duty." He reached for her hand and guided her through the dark galley.
…………………………
Trip and Hoshi went out the back way, so they missed seeing their commanding officers as the left the mess. Unlike the younger couple that held hands all the way back, they weren't touching. The Captain leaned close and listened to something the short Vulcan woman was saying. His hand only an inch or so from her back as they moved quietly through the deserted decks of Enterprise on the way to their respective quarters.
"I really enjoyed that tea." He looked down at her as he opened her door, but didn't attempt to follow her in.
"I have it most nights." She stood in the entrance, he stood watching her. "It seems to be a habit I'm forming."
"Be careful, Humans seem to be rubbing off on you. Though as habits go, it's a nice one." Again it was crunch time for Jonathan Archer, this time he was going to make the right decision for the right reason. "I'm not going to ask to come in."
"I know, Jonathan." She looked up at him and as their eyes met, he knew that she probably did know, but that was all right, because he knew too. He could tell by the way she'd said his name. He'd heard it once like that before, but she'd been half asleep then.
"Good-night, T'Pol."
"Good-night." She whispered as she quietly closed her door.
He turned and walked the few steps to his own quarters, he'd been given a lot to think about tonight. Vulcans, would he never figure them out? He hoped to God that there was one that he would.