51
Thanks to my sister Gretchen for listening as I rattled on and on about a TV show she's never seen.
Spoilers for Catwalk
Minor ones for Precious Cargo and Carbon Creek
Rating: PG-13
Ch. 5 A Catwalk Over Troubled Waters
"Way to go, Jon." Archer muttered to himself as he turned his face to the wall, and pulled the blanket over his shoulder. Their first night in the starboard nacelle and what did he do? He practically jumped down T'Pol's throat, for not having more interaction with the crew, while they're confined to the catwalk. He knew she'd been fighting some kind of inner turmoil for the last three weeks and there was something about the Neutronic Wave Front that they were caught in that was bothering her. Most of the time she appeared her normal self, it was only when she thought no one was watching that she let her mask slip and he could tell she was fighting a battle to regain Vulcan control over her feelings. So why the hell had he jumped all over her?
As he lay in the dark, listening to deep even breathing coming from the woman two feet away, he hoped the crew was more comfortable than he was. They had rigged a temporary command center where the catwalk widened at the end of the nacelle. It was the only area that was large enough to house all the equipment that Trip and Mayweather had brought in.
The main catwalk belonged to the crew, with a combination hammock/bunk arrangement set up on either side of the walk, for sleeping. T'Pol and he were crammed into the small 'room' behind the temporary C&C. The catwalk had ended where it met the 'command center,' and was replaced with deck plating. Their space was the odd rectangle left over in the aft tip of the nacelle. It gave them some privacy, but was public enough to be proper. They each had their own sleep area, with a small walkway between them. The biggest disadvantage was that unlike the crew, they were forced to bed down on the deck. The surface was hard, and Archer was worried that T'Pol might not hold up well, even with the heavily insulated padding they were both using to keep out the cold that seeped up through the nacelle plates.
Sitting up, he looked over at her, but she appeared to be asleep. He hoped she was doing all right, though doubted she'd admit it if she weren't. Patting Porthos who was stretched out against his right thigh, he reached for a small bag that held the few personal belongings he'd been able to bring with him. Opening it, he grabbed a sweatshirt and pulled it on over his uniform, before laying back down. He was suddenly assailed by a scent of lemon and spice that hit him in the gut, and made him stare with longing at the sleeping woman an arm's reach away.
When he'd tossed the sweatshirt into his bag, he'd known it was the one he'd left in T'Pol's quarters so many weeks ago, but he hadn't realized that even after going through the laundry her scent still clung to it. He drifted off to sleep, with a smile on his face, surrounded by her fragrance and listening to her quiet breathing. His last waking thought was that maybe the forced confinement wouldn't be so bad after all?
……………..
Jonathon wasn't sure what woke him. He knew he'd only slept for a little while, even before he checked his wrist chronometer. As he turned on his right side, he realized there was a cold empty spot by his leg, that hadn't been there earlier. Before his sleep-fogged mind could register what was missing, he saw to his horror, a small black and tan beagle stretched out against a slim Vulcan back, two feet away! Both animal and woman were sound asleep.
"Porthos," Jonathan whispered as he tried to rouse the sleeping dog, but not T'Pol. "Come here boy." But the dog's only response was to bury his chin deeper in his paws, as he snuggled closer to the warm body he was leaning against, and ignored the man a few feet away.
"You get over here, I'm in enough trouble as it is." Jonathan gritted his teeth at his usually well-behaved pet, though he could hardly blame him. If he were in Porthos's spot it would have taken a lot to get him to move. He'd held T'Pol in his arms, while she slept once before, and it wasn't something he'd been able to forget.
"Porthos!" His whisper was louder this time, and both the dog, and the woman raised their head, and stared at him in bewilderment.
T'Pol looked over her shoulder at the little body pressed close to hers, then pointedly back at Jonathan. Her brow rose and her nose wrinkled, as she looked from one to the other, a second time.
"Sorry, it won't happen again." He slid out of his space and reached across for the animal. "You're supposed to stay on our side." He muttered to his dog, but couldn't keep a grin off his face.
T'Pol shook her head, in what appeared to be disgust, as she lay back down and pulled her blankets to the tips of her ears. She could hardly tell him that she had found the small quadruped's presence comforting? His scent and warmth had invaded her dreams, and reminded her of Jonathan. For the first time since she heard about the Neutronic Wave, the odd jumping in her stomach had relaxed, now it was back again. That thought, and the sudden loss of warmth at her back, made her shiver. She was glad her blanket hid her from probing green eyes, that often saw too much, and discovered too many truths she would have rather kept hidden.
"Here take this." Archer knelt between their sleeping areas, while he peeled off his sweatshirt. "And put it on, don't just cover up with it."
"That is yours, not mine." She whispered, obviously she had not hidden her discomfort as well as she thought she had. She was cold, but it would be improper to take his clothes.
"So?" He challenged. "Look, I wasn't born on a hot dry planet. Besides, I've got Porthos to keep me warm." He smiled softly, and tried to look stern at the same time, but it was hard. "That's an order Sub-Commander. It's either that or you go to the main catwalk and share with Hoshi, a prospect that I don't think either of you would thank me for. It's cramped and noisy in there, but I can't have my second in command catching a cold." He didn't want her to leave, but if she lay there staring at him much longer, it would be the only safe thing for her to do.
"If you insist, Captain." She took the shirt and pulled it over her head.
"I do," he grinned as she quickly lay back down, and turned away from him, with her blanket pulled practically to the top of her head.
"But Vulcan's do not catch cold." Her sleepy voice drifted from her nest of blankets.
"Not if I can help it, you won't!" He slid back to his spot very pleased with himself.
Maybe she would have been better off going to the main catwalk with Ensign Sato; wearing his sweatshirt was a mistake. When she had first put it on, it was still warm from him. Though it had felt wonderful against her chilled body, the thought that the heat contained in the shirt, had recently been a part of the energy that made up Jonathan Archer, was somehow intimate, and did strange things to her stomach.
It was odd sharing a sleeping compartment. On Vulcan it was only done by very young siblings or bondmates. She and the Captain fell into neither category. T'Pol took deep calming breaths; while she mentally repeated her meditation mantra, in an attempt to clear her mind enough to sleep again. When that didn't work, she tried to focus on the sound of her breathing, to block out the man's a few feet away. Finally giving up, she synchronized her breaths with his, and accepted the warmth that he'd given her. Soon all three occupants of the small makeshift quarters were sound asleep.
…………………
T'Pol moved carefully along the catwalk, her breakfast in hand. Everywhere there were people talking and moving about. They were crowded, but seemed to be making the best of a bad situation. She hadn't gone very far when she realized that she probably would have suffered from sensory overload if she had had to live with 80 plus humans, and their emotions, packed tightly into a small space. Without the outlet of meditation it would have been difficult to keep her mental shields intact in the confines of this section of the nacelle.
"Sub-Commander, do you want to join me for breakfast?" Hoshi Sato was sitting on the bed that she'd been assigned.
"It is good of you to offer." T'Pol made her way over to the railing and looked down at the young Ensign.
"There's plenty of room for the two of us, and it's a mess out there." Hoshi pointed toward the area where some tables had been erected. "Climb through the bars. I lucked out and drew one of Phlox's stretchers, so the bed's stable." She smiled at the Vulcan trying to make her feel welcome.
Unsure of how to make small talk, T'Pol watched as Hoshi grimaced, obviously uncomfortable in such a small area. "Is your claustrophobia bothering you again, Ensign?"
"No, every time I begin to feel pinned in, I've used the relaxation techniques you taught me. They work like a charm." She smiled at the serious woman sitting opposite her. "I'm surprised you left the calm of the command center, for the bedlam up here." Hoshi grinned, knowing that if she had a choice she'd stay in the peace and quiet of the aft end of the nacelle.
"Captain Archer suggested that this would be a good time for me to get to know the crew better." T'Pol filled her spoon with oatmeal, and a few of the Tinka berries they'd found on the last planet they'd visited.
"He ordered you, did he?" The younger woman laughed.
"I believe his exact words were, that I should learn to fraternize." Her shapely brow rose, making the other woman laugh. Both knew an order when they heard it, no matter how it was termed.
"I'm sure he would appreciate that." Hoshi's eyes danced at the double meaning behind the seemingly simple statement. She had seen the way Archer looked at T'Pol, when he thought no one was watching. It was obvious he wouldn't mind doing some fraternization of his own. What didn't make sense was why he would push her to mingle with the crew, instead of keeping her close by his side. Unless, of course, the Vulcan still hadn't told him about her conversation with Kern.
"Mornin' ladies," Trip leaned over the rail, and gave Hoshi his most engaging smile. "How ya'all doin' this mornin'?"
"Good morning, Commander." T'Pol looked up at the young chief engineer.
"Commander." Hoshi's eyes had turned to ice and her gaze passed though him like a plasma bullet through butter. "Sir, unless you're here on ship's business, the Sub-Commander and I were having a private conversation."
"Dang it all, Hoshi, would you just gimme a chance to explain?" He whispered frantically.
"There is nothing to explain, Commander." Her brow shot up in imitation of T'Pol. "If you would please excuse us, Sir, we'd like to finish out breakfast."
"Well damnit, a man can't make one simple mistake without it gettin' blown all outta proportion." Trip mumbled as he stomped away.
T'Pol sat frozen, unsure of what to do or say. Even with her mental shields tightly in place, it had been easy to pick-up the feelings of hurt and anger coming from Ensign Sato.
"I'm sorry, Sub-Commander, that must have been very unpleasant for you to witness." Hoshi wiped at a lone tear that had run down her cheek, and tried hard to put a smile on her face. "Think you could teach me any meditation techniques to keep me from wanting to bash his one little brain cell against the nearest bulkhead?"
"It has been my observation that the Commander is a very intelligent man." T'Pol was confused that the Ensign would speak with such disrespect about a senior officer.
"I used to think that, too." Hoshi sniffed delicately. "It's unforturnate that he only uses that brain for engineering, when it comes to everything else, he thinks with his…." She clasped a hand over her mouth, when she realized what she had been about to say.
"You have feelings for the Commander." It suddenly dawned on T'Pol that there had been an undercurrent of male/female attraction radiating between the two shipmates for a while now, but ever since he had been kidnapped, Hoshi had been avoiding him.
Both women knew that officially, fraternization with subordinates, was against the rules, but they also knew that Archer was turning a blind eye to anything that developed between members of the crew, as long as it was kept discrete, and didn't get in the way of business. Everyone was being very careful, because they all knew that if there were ever an unpleasant incident, he would go back to playing strictly by the rulebook.
"It's not what you think, the Commander, Trip," she whispered, surprised at how good it felt to use that silly nickname, again. "He and I were friends, that's all."
"Ensign, I believe you were more than friends." T'Pol looked her straight in the eyes and could read the pain that was there. Humans were so emotional, and it could get so messy. She wondered how they survived it.
"Ma'am, we really were just friends. Trip has a reputation with women. I'd heard about it, so I refused to let him get any closer to me than friendship, though he gave every indication that he was interested in more. That I was someone special. There's an old Earth saying, 'if I can't be with the one I love, I'll love the one I'm with.' That describes the Commander in a nutshell." It was hard to talk about what had happened, but Hoshi needed help from someone. She trusted T'Pol completely, and in view of what she had discovered about the woman recently, she thought that maybe the Vulcan was the one person on the ship that might understand. "I mean if you care about a person the way he said that he cared about me, you don't go getting involved with every stray princess that comes along, do you?"
"Ah, human sexuality?" T'Pol nodded. When she had debriefed the Commander, and the Princess, after their adventure, she had picked up the residual affects of passion, even with her mental shields tightly closed, but in true Vulcan fashion she had ignored it, believing it would be an intrusion on their personal lives to have acknowledged it.
"I'm sorry Sub-Commander, I know that you can't possibility be comfortable with this conversation." The younger woman tired to smile, but it looked more like a grimace.
"A moment if you please, Ensign?" The Vulcan lowered her eyes, and took a deep breath as she searched for the most logical approach to the problem. She knew that on a typical Earth vessel, the first officer was often the one that the crew came to with problems, even ones of a personal nature, but this was not a typical vessel, nor was she a typical first officer.
"Vulcan's don't have these kinds of problems do they?" Hoshi looked sadly at the other woman.
"When we mate, it is for life," T'Pol whispered. She sat with her hands folded tightly in her lap, in the familiar lotus position. Hoshi was inches away, her posture a mirror image of her visitor's. "That is why the family chooses a bondmate far in advance. It is believed that adult logic will assure a harmonious union."
"But that's not always the case?" Hoshi remembered the conversation she had overheard. It was obvious that T'Pol had rejected her family's choice of a bondmate in favor of staying on Enterprise.
"The match was logical, but sometimes even Vulcans change, Ensign." T'Pol had already taken that conversation further than she would have liked. "Regarding the matter between you and Commander Tucker. I believe when there is a misunderstanding between two people, it is always best to confront that person directly. It is possible you don't know all the facts, and the Commander is the only one who will be able to enlighten you."
"May I ask you a personal question, Ma'am?" Dark worried eyes met steady green ones. "Have you talked to Captain Archer about what Sub-Commander Kern said to you?"
T'Pol was saved from having to think of a suitable comeback when Enterprise began to bounce and shake, sending the crew grabbing for handholds. "You will excuse me, Ensign, I must see if I can be of assistance on the bridge."
Hoshi watched the other woman as she gripped on to anything that would keep her steady, while she navigated the catwalk. If she didn't know better she would have sworn the Vulcan had been frightened by the sudden turbulence, though it was apparent, she had been glad for the interruption.
…………………….
The day had gone well. The crew was in good spirits despite the crowding and lack of, what many would consider, necessities of daily living. On one of his many trips through the catwalk to keep an eye on things, and remain accessible to everyone, Archer had noticed T'Pol in earnest conversation with Hoshi. It pleased him that she had taken his advice to heart. He entered the compact space he shared with her, with a small peace offering in hand. He was determined to get their second night in the confines of the catwalk, off to a better start than he had the first.
"Here you go Sub-Commander." He knelt in front of her with a cup of mint tea.
"Thank you, Captain." She reached for it, and just as her fingers met his on the cup, Enterprise chose that moment to shake and bounce again. Between them, they balanced the mug, as hot tea washed over their hands.
"Travis, everything okay?" Even as he called down the corridor to the young man sitting at the controls, Jonathan instinctively wrapped his free arm around T'Pol. He wasn't about to let go, and fought to keep his balance, as the deck bucked beneath them. All the while his eyes were glued to the little bit of Mayweather's head that he could see between the crates of supplies that walled off the command sleeping area from C&C.
"Sorry about that, Captain. Just a rough patch, we'll be out of it in about 10 seconds." Enterprise settled back into its smooth flight before Mayweather could finish his sentence.
"Try to avoid the 'rough patches' in the future, Ensign. I prefer Enterprise in one piece."
"Yes, Sir." Travis grinned over his shoulder at the Captain, and did a double take at the sight that met his eyes. "I prefer it that way myself," he muttered as he quickly turned back to his station. 'I saw nothin,' he kept repeating, under his breath, until he could almost believe it.
When Archer looked down at T'Pol, something froze in his midsection. He realized that her free hand had a death grip on the back of his uniform, pulling her closer to him, and her eyes were huge.
"T'Pol?" He pried the cup from her unresponsive fingers, and put it aside. "Sub-Commander, how badly were you burned?" He saw darkening splotches on the skin of the hand that had been holding the cup.
"Pardon?" She blinked slowly, and wiped all emotion from her face. Though it was obvious it was taking severe control to keep it that way. "I am quite all right. The tea did only superficial damage."
"Oh no you don't! Do not shut me out!" He gripped her tighter and gave her a little shake. What he had seen in her eyes, made fear surged through him. She was afraid!
"Do not touch me, Captain." Her brow rose, and her words came out low and raspy.
Something erupted inside of him, but he held up his hands and pulled back a few inches. If he didn't put some distance between them, he was likely to throttle her. It'd been months since he'd been this mad at her. He realized that part of his anger was because she had pushed him away again! But first things first, something was very wrong here. He had a sinking feeling that she hadn't told him the whole truth about the T'Plana. Later when he wasn't so worried about his ship, he would feel the sting of another rejection, but now he had more immediate concerns. "Spill it T'Pol!"
"The turbulence caught me off guard, that is all." She had the good grace not to pretend she didn't understand his slang.
"God damnit! What do you know that you're not telling me? I've seen you fearlessly step into the path of a plasma bullet. When we piloted this ship between two stars, with meteors coming at us from all directions, and the rest of the crew was out cold, you didn't bat an eye. When you went after Menos, you were confused at times, but never scared! What the hell do you know about these Neutronic Waves that would frighten you? Sub-Commander, as Captain I have a right to know, and as Captain, I'm ordering you to tell me."
His anger buffeted her, no matter how tightly her mental shields were slammed. He was too close, and too much had happened in the last few months. He was a man, who she respected, even if he sometimes used less than honorable means to secure her allegiance, but he was human, so what else could she expect.
"If you have examined the Vulcan database, then you know as much about what happened to the T'Plana as I do, Jonathan." She hadn't meant to call him by his first name, but it had slipped out. Where was the control that she counted on each day to survive in the midst of so many humans?
"Then what the hell is wrong?" He picked up her hand, which still had dark splotches from the hot tea, and held it lightly in his. "You gotta help me out here. Those people out there can not see us afraid, and frankly you're scaring me do death."
His sincerity worked where his anger hadn't. She took a deep breath and met his gaze. "You are right, Captain, I have been afraid, but it is because of a personal matter, and it is totally illogical. I do not know anymore about the Wave Front than I have already told you."
"T'Pol," Jonathan rolled his eyes, he was tired of her putting thing under the heading of personal matters, then ignoring them. "I'd trust you with my life, but you have to give me more to go on, before I can ask them to trust you with theirs." He pointed in the general direction of the catwalk full of people.
With her chin in the air, she took a deep breath, and reached under her pillow for a small book. "It is all in here." She handed it to him and watched as he leafed through the century old pages covered in Vulcan writing. "That belonged to T'Mir, my second foremother. She left it behind when she went on her last mission. She was captain of the T'Plana."
"Why didn't you say something?" He sat in the aisle as close to her as he dared, fascinated by the book, though he couldn't read the language.
"It is a family matter, but my apprehension, is illogical, I should have been able to control it better. I apologize, Captain." She realized he still held her hand, and gently pulled out of his hold.
When he turned to the last page, a picture fell out. "Your second foremother?" As she nodded in reply, he felt something move deep inside him. Everything she had been saying was true. The whole cockamamie story that she'd entertained them with months ago over dinner was true! "This could be you in about a hundred years or so." He was gripped by sadness that he wouldn't live long enough to know at that age. Even with silver mixed into mahogany hair, and small lines around her eyes from staring at too many distance stars, the woman looking back at him from the picture, was strikingly beautiful and familiar.
"I am told there is a likeness."
"Very much so." He took one last look at the photo before putting it away, and handing her the book. He wished the pain that seeing that picture had awakened in him were given away as easily. He cleared his throat and concentrated on the problem at hand. "This could explain why you've had a problem with the turbulence. An ancestor who you look a great deal like, died in a class 5 Neutronic Wave Front, and we unexpectedly came across one, and get caught in it."
"That is illogical."
"Maybe so, but haven't you told me that Vulcan's have emotions, but you choose to control them? What if I gave you an hour or so, alone in here, to meditate? You think that might help?" He mentally kicked himself for not thinking of it sooner. She might not have the peace and quiet she was used to in her own quarters, but the least he could do was try and make it easier on her. One of the things he had come to understand in the last year was how important daily meditation was to her.
"I have not meditated since the night before we discovered the Wave. It would be the logical thing to do." How did he know what she had needed, when she did not even realize it herself?
"All right then, we'll clear out and give you some privacy." He stood, and picked up Porthos. "Come on boy, we're going to visit Trip." He made it almost to the entrance, when he turned, and looked at the small woman still sitting on the deck. "T'Pol, if there's ever anything you want to talk about, I'm always willing to listen, even if it's personal, I'll be there for you." He smiled; hoping that very soon she'd feel able to discuss what had happened the night Kern had visited.
As he walked onto the main area of the catwalk, he tried not to thing about T'Mir's journal and the truths it had made him face. He had always known that Vulcans out-lived humans by over a hundred years, but it was hard to see proof of it. Added to that, was the haunting familiarity of the ancient text. It took him a few minutes to jog his memory, but it finally came to him. A number of weeks earlier he had realized that T'Pol reminded him of Tolkien's Arwen. That belief was reinforced by the look of the old style Vulcan script, because it looked like Elvish, which had been written vertically instead of horizontally.
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Life took on a slow rhythm in the catwalk. There were a few arguments as the days past, but for the most part, the crew found little things to keep from getting bored. Once they played the old-fashioned game charades. Another time Travis Mayweather told ghost stories from the collection he had gathered growing up a boomer. One of the best finds was Crewman Cutler's singing voice. She loved to sing, and knew hundreds of songs from many different kinds of music.
Archer noticed that T'Pol was making an effort to mix more with the crew. She usually ate breakfast with Hoshi, and at times Elizabeth Cutler joined them. In the evenings, she could almost always be found sitting in the back listening to whatever forms of entertainment the crew had decided on for the night. He gave her time each day to meditate, and was relieved to discover that the areas of turbulence appeared not to bother her anymore. Though he didn't doubt that somewhere deep inside of her, were feelings that she kept an iron control over. Sometimes late at night when he lay listening to her breathing, he wondered what it would be like, if she ever set them free. Part of him wanted very much to see that, but the more practical part remembered the picture of her second foremother, and the long life T'Pol had in front of her. A short-lived human would be nothing more than a footnote in that expanse of years.
………………………
It had been a close thing, they had almost lost Enterprise, but not to the Wave. This time to an alien militia, that was little better than pirates, but Archer would have destroyed his ship rather than let her be taken, and her crew enslaved.
"Travis said you were magnificent." Jonathan lay on his back talking to the woman on the other side of the room. It was a habit they had formed over the last few nights. In a way it reminded him of the talks they used to have in the mess hall over tea. "He said you refused to let him change course until you got the all clear from me."
"You gave the order to fly into the large Plasma Eddy. It was my place as first officer to see that it got carried out, until you rescinded it." She turned on her side, propped herself up on her elbow, with her head resting in her hand, and watched the man across from her. She had been fascinated by his determination to not give into the pirate's demands. It raised many questions.
"Well for a woman who was frightened of turbulence a few days ago, you stood your ground beautifully!" He could picture her braced against Travis's chair, as they were buffeted by the approaching eddy, but refusing to give in, as she bent the younger man to her will.
"Thank you. The meditation has helped a great deal." She studied him as she remember what Hoshi had told her weeks ago. Maybe the Ensign was wrong, maybe Enterprise and the mission weren't the most important things in Jonathan's life? And her own conclusion was incorrect, as well; maybe he had not chosen his science officer because she was Vulcan, and he could profit from her expertise? A man did not willingly destroy something that was that important to him, especially an erratic human.
"Captain, would you have really let us fly into the Plasma Eddy?"
He faced her across the walkway, and propped himself up with his elbow. Jonathan wished the lights had been on, because the shadowy outline he saw of her wasn't enough. He could see the light gray from his sweatshirt, and smiled because she was always careful to keep herself covered when she wore it. Tonight, as she focused on their conversation, the blanket had slipped around her waist. He could see the sleeves rolled at her wrists and the brown from her uniform where the collar was too large for her. He had a sneaking suspicion that she'd look cute, but he didn't dare say that. Somehow he thought it would be beneath a Vulcan's dignity to be considered cute.
"I've relived that moment a thousand times, since it happened. My father taught me never to bluff, unless I could live with the outcome: win, lose, or draw." He sighed as he remembered all that had gone through his mind as they had tried to retake the ship. "So I guess the answer to your question is, yes I would have, but I hoped to hell it didn't come to that."
"You are an honorable man, Jonathan Archer." She whispered into the silence that followed.
"Thank you T'Pol, but there is hardly honor, if you kill your crew when there is a chance at life."
For the first time T'Pol moved into the space that separated them and sat beside the man who was still second guessing a decision he had not had to make. "Your crew would follow you anywhere, Captain, including into that Plasma Eddy. And there are worst things than death. I believe we would have discovered that, if you had backed down."
"What about my first officer?" He looked up at her sitting inches away from him. He'd been right, she was cute in the overly large sweatshirt, too cute for his peace of mind. "Would she follow me anywhere, as well?"
Green eyes met green eyes. Both people realized there were many layers to the question that had been asked, and both realized it was too soon to answer them all, so T'Pol took the easy way out and fell back on titles. "Yes Captain, your First Officer would." Her words fell into the pool of silence between them. She was tempted to loosen the hold on her mental shields and let all that he was feeling flow between them, but once she did that, there would be no turning back.
"You'd better go back over to your side, you don't want to get cold." His voice stuck in his throat and come out barely above a whisper. What would she do if he pulled her against him, to keep her warm that way? It was a tempting thought, but he could read the uncertainty in her posture, as she sat caught in his gaze.
"No I would not want to catch cold, Jonathan." She whispered as she forced herself to moved away from him, and back to her own space. With the safety of distance between them, she wondered if she had answered appropriately, because she had been so focused on the responses she was getting from him that she had spoken without thinking. Something had trembled between them, which both frightened and intrigued her, but most importantly, it caused her to be truly at peace for the first time in weeks. Even with her mental shields in place she had picked up on his desires to have her physically close. The only logical conclusion was that no matter what his motives had been when he asked her to join Enterprise, as a permanent member of the crew, the personal relationship that had developed between them was based in truth. He had not been pretending, none of his gestures of friendship or closeness had been an act to bind her to him, and therefore Enterprise.
She supposed she had been looking for a reason to keep from telling him about what happened with Sub-Commander Kern, and that was why she had misunderstood Ensign Sato's comment. But that was so illogical, so un-Vulcan! T'Pol shivered at the implications. It was almost is if her careful construct of logic had created a trap because she had not been able to accept that where emotions were concerned, the illogical could be the truth, and the logical the lie. The more she thought about it, the more confused she became. Another thing she would have to discuss with Jonathan when Enterprise had returned to normal.
……………………..
On their last night in the catwalk, T'Pol lay in the dark listening to his deep even breathing. She'd grown accustomed to it, and knew her quarters would be strangely quiet when they returned to the main part of the ship. It had been soothing to tell him about her second foremother, and he had seemed mesmerized by the picture of T'Mir. He would stare at the old photo and discretely watch her out of the corner of his eye as they talked. Was there really that much of a resemblance, and what was causing his curious reaction? Over the last few nights he had asked many questions about the old Vulcan explorer, and she had been willing to answer them. He was an outworlder, a man she hardly knew, but she had talked to him about family, and found it pleasant to do so. She supposed that some night, over tea in the mess hall, she would tell him about Kern and Koss and what had really happened all those weeks ago. But it was not something she could speak of yet. It wasn't a subject for Captain and Sub-Commander, and as long as they shared quarters in the catwalk, it was a necessity they retain their titles. Once they were able to take out a few moments to be Jonathan and T'Pol again, then she would see, yes she would see.
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