Chapter Title is taken from Edgar Allan Poe's poem Eldorado. I think the last stanza fits very well for the sentiment behind Stigma. "Over the Mountains Of the Moon, Down the Valley of the Shadow, Ride, boldly ride," the shade replied,--"If you seek for Eldorado!" Information on Vulcan funeral rites was taken from the Star Trek Movie, The Search For Spock
This chapter is in memory of Steve Miller, friend, co-worker, and AIDS victim.
Spoilers: Huge ones for Stigma
MINOR ones for Vanishing Point, Fusion, Two Days To Nights, and The Seventh
Pairing: Archer/T'Pol and Sato/Tucker
Ch 6 Down The Valley Of The Shadow
Ensign Hoshi Sato had looked forward to some peace and quiet. She'd wanted to run an extra diagnostic on the communications board, and tweak it with a few improvements of her own, but it didn't seem as if she'd have time to do any of that. They had come to Dekendee 3 so Dr. Phlox could attend a meeting of The Interspecies Medical Exchange, and to get the latest neutron microscope. They'd gotten the scope, and to every ones delight, Feezal, one of the doctor's wives was helping Commander Tucker install it. Then things had begun to get dicey around the edges. Phlox only made one trip to the conference, and that had been a quick one. The rest of his time he'd spent in sickbay, or in odd meetings with the Captain.
Hoshi worked quickly to keep up with all the tasks that needed her attention. Though they were in a parking orbit, communications were unusually active. Priority messages had come and gone all day, as well as emergency shuttles back and forth to the surface. She was convinced that if she looked at just the right angle, she would see a path that was being worn on the deck planting between the lift, and the Captain's Ready Room. Though it wasn't her job to ask questions, she was getting an odd itch at the back of her neck, which told her all hell was about to break lose.
The slight whir that she had come to recognize as the lift doors opening, caught her by surprise. 'Oh no, here we go again,' she thought to herself. A drawn looking T'Pol moved across the bridge as if it was unoccupied, and headed straight for Archer's door. Something big had happened. The communications officer could feel it. Whatever it was, it involved T'Pol, Phlox, and the Captain; and she'd bet her last dime that the Vulcans were at the bottom of it. Ten minutes earlier, she'd routed a message through to the Sub-Commander in her quarters. It hadn't been the first unexpected contact they'd had with the Vulcan medical delegation. At breakfast, they'd been visited, unannounced, by three of them. She knew Vulcans weren't given to dropping by for a quick chat over scones and espresso. Something was up!
……………………….
T'Pol sat across from Archer and listened to his voice crack as he told her of his failed efforts to get help from the Vulcan doctors for her Pa'nar Syndrome. It seemed as if a sheet of ice surrounded her, and he was pounding on it to try and break through. She had only herself to blame. She had kept the secret of her illness from him for almost a year. Pain was clearly written on his face, which added to the load she was carrying. The time of relative calm, they had spent crammed into the catwalk, seemed months ago, instead of only weeks.
She did not understand why she had come to him in person, instead of using the COM system, to inform him of Dr. Yuris's request to meet her on the surface. At the time she had not questioned it, because it had seemed the logical thing to do, as logical as breathing.
"Wait." Archer stood and blocked her from leaving. "You can't go down there alone."
"It was his request that I do so."
"No!" He punched the communicator on his desk and turned to glare at her. "I'm going with you, and that's final."
"Pardon me, Sir?" Hoshi Sato's voice came through loud and clear over the small speaker next to his hand. It was evident she'd heard part, if not all, of his last remark to T'Pol.
"Have Lt. Reed prepare a shuttlepod. The Sub-Commander and I'll be leaving as soon as it's ready. Archer out!"
"Yes, Sir!" The clink of communications breaking off with the bridge echoed in the silence that followed.
"Captain," T'Pol stepped closer to him. "The fewer people who know about this the better. If he can help me, I do not want to compromise his standing in the medical community."
"Neither do I." He couldn't stop himself from reaching for her shoulders, and holding on tightly. All he'd wanted to do since he'd heard about her illness was put his arms around her, and keep her safe from the universe. He gritted his teeth as the words echoed in his mind: 'Pa'nar Syndrome, lethal and incurable.' "He can't object to a pilot for the shuttle. I'll stay out of sight, I promise. But what if it's a trap, and there're waiting for you down there in force?"
"There would be nothing you could do." She added extra steal to her spine and reached deep inside for all the control she could muster. "Though I would not object to your company on the trip down." She kept telling herself to move, to stand strong on her own, but the words just bounced off her exhausted mind. It would be too easy to accept the invitation that was in his eyes, and rest for a moment against his strength.
"T'Pol," the rush of air out of his lungs whispered her name. He was unable to let go of her, but knew if he pulled her closer it might be the final burden that caused her to crumple. "Can you ever forgive me?"
"Forgive you? I do not understand." It would be so easy to reach for him, he was only inches away, but she knew she must not, especially now.
"I was the one who pushed you to have contact with Tolaris." He could still remember the haunted empty look in her eyes when he'd gone to see her in sickbay, after the attack, and the surge of joy when he had pointing a phase pistol at the man who had mentally raped her. Since he'd discovered that the forced mind meld had passed alone a deadly virus, he wished he'd pulled the trigger, political consequences be damned! "This never would have happened if I hadn't been so insistent that you mingle with them."
"No, you are not to blame. I…" Her voice broke and she had to look away so he would not see what it was costing her to be so close to something she wanted, but knew to be illogical and irrational, and now, forever out of her reach. "I did not fully inform you of the risks involved."
"But I should've taken better care of you." Pain sliced through him and fueled his temper, when he thought of the price she had paid for his arrogance. He had wanted to show her that Vulcans could have emotions and logic at the same time. Even back then, he'd known it was motivated by selfishness.
"I am not yours to take care of, Jonathan Archer." She carefully laid a hand on his chest, allowing herself to touch him freely just once. He was an emotional, irrational human, who tested her vast store of logic on a daily basis, but she knew deep in her being that if they had been given the time, things would have been very different between them.
"One good thing did come out of all this. Because of my interaction with that group I learned that he….Tolaris…" She shivered as she stumbled over his name. "He is not representative of that sub-culture in Vulcan society." She lost the battle with herself and leaned her forehead against the man standing so close to her, as she gripped the sides of his uniform in her fists. Taking deep breaths, she gulped in his scent. It had represented safety in a rocking world for a long time, now. Over the last year they had come to an unspoken agreement: they covered each other's back and gave support when needed. This was one of those times.
Jonathan wrapped his arms around her, and enjoyed the moment of warmth that they shared. Why had it taken the prospect of losing her for good, to make him see how important she was to him? He'd been dancing around the edge of it for months now, but always refused to look it squarely in the eye. For the first time in a long while, he felt whole and at peace. His restless spirit had found a home, but the Vulcans were threatening to take it away, in three days time.
"Sato to Archer. Your shuttle is ready, Sir." The young ensign's voice fell into the deep silence that had wrapped around the couple in the Ready Room.
Jonathan stretched to reach the communicator, and quickly punched the button, while never taking his eyes off the woman in his arms. "We're on our way. Archer out!" He wasn't ready to let her go, she didn't often let him get this close, but they'd run out of time. He realized what it must have cost her to reach for him as she had, and that her inexperience with emotions left her unprepared to pull back while keeping her Vulcan dignity intact. It was up to him to do it for her. "Feeling any better?"
"Feeling?" Her brow arched in classic disapproval. She was reasserting herself, and it gave him courage that they would get through this together.
As his arms dropped away from her, and she began to step back, she was oddly reticent to break off all contact. It had given her something that she was unsure how to express, but it made her stop and reach for his arm, one more time. "Thank you, Jonathan." She had been out of her depth, but he had known how to pull her back.
"You're very welcome, T'Pol." He lightly covered her hand with his. She was being honest with him and he owed her the same. "But did it ever occur to you that I needed that as much as you?" His face softened as she carefully blinked, and tried to remove all traces of emotion from her hers.
"I'm sorry." She wanted to say more, but lacked the words to express what she was sensing in herself. Instead she pulled her hand free. What had happened could never happen again! It shouldn't have happened now.
"Don't be! This isn't over yet." He smiled down at her, as he looked her over carefully. "You'll pass, but I'll stay between you and Hoshi. Body language is as easy for her to read as encryption codes. I doubt you'd fool her."
"Captain?" T'Pol turned and looked as insulted as a Vulcan was capable of looking.
"Now that just might get you past her!" He grinned as he headed for the hatch.
………………………..
Things were happening too fast. When Hoshi had gone to dinner, the Captain and the Sub-Commander had still been off on their secretive mission. Then, moments ago, he'd had her snagged off the 1800-hour shuttle to the surface. He'd asked her to check the Vulcan Database for the standards of ethical behavior for the Consul of Physicians. As much as Hoshi wanted to deny what she believed to be the truth, the evidence was mounting. On her trip to meet the Captain in sickbay, she'd passed T'Pol in the corridor. The woman moved as if on autopilot, stiff and withdrawn. Before she'd even entered sickbay, Hoshi'd heard Archer arguing with Dr. Phlox, though the words were indistinct, the tone hadn't been. Most telling of all had been the look on the Captain's face as he made his request. Archer had looked frightened. She'd known him a long time and had never seen bone deep fear like that in his eyes, but it had been there then. Too many things had happened today, and they all pointed in one direction: T'Pol. Something was very wrong with T'Pol.
……………………..
"Captain, getting upset is not going to help her." After Hoshi left, Phlox watched the other man pace sickbay. "Thanks to the two of you, and Dr. Yuris, I've got all the information the Vulcans do on Pa'nar Syndrome. I can't guarantee a cure, but what we have here is enough to slow the progression of the Sub-Commander's disease, and give me time to see what I can do."
"It won't do her a hell of a lot of good, if Oratt is successful in taking her back to Vulcan. It seems all our logical friends want is to see these people dead!" Archer was grateful he'd been able to hold onto his temper until T'Pol and, moments later, Hoshi had left sickbay, but it had torn him apart to tell the woman he'd come to care about that she was being recalled. "Why the hell won't she fight for herself? If the High Command knew that she'd contracted the disease when she was attacked, and not during a mind meld by choice, they'd be more lenient."
"She's explained that Captain." The doctor found human reactions interesting, but when a very stubborn Vulcan was thrown into the mix, they bordered on the bizarre. "You must remember she's been fighting for a year already."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Every time I've wanted to access outside help, she's refused. Always saying that if her illness were discovered, she'd be taken off Enterprise. Her paramount concern was to be able to remain here." He shrugged and wondered how much more he should let on.
"Since my encounter with Dr. Oratt, I understand some of the underlying prejudices involved, so I'm getting a clearer picture of what she was facing." Phlox tilted his head and watched the Captain carefully, as he tested a theory of his own. "But there was more to it than that. It didn't take me long to realize that she had a need to remain here, one that I believed would have been detrimental to her health, if it were removed."
"Go on." Archer wasn't sure he liked where this was leading. He had an all too clear memory of another night in sickbay, when the doctor had discovered a truth that Jonathan had thought he'd kept well hidden.
"For some reason, the Sub-Commander wishes to remain here." Phlox picked his words carefully, but met the Captain's eyes directly. "She cares about being here. It is more important to her than anything, except her principles."
"Principles be damned!" Archer exploded and pounded his fist against a worktable. He didn't understand her reasoning. If the High Command turned a blind eye to her Pa'nar Syndrome because she'd gotten the virus, when she was attacked, but would have pulled her commission and her place on Enterprise, if it has been transmitted by a voluntary mind meld, why would it be condoning their prejudice or persecuting the section of Vulcan society that practiced such techniques, if it were used in her defense.
"Are you all right?" Phlox shook his head, things were worse than he expected. His people were known for their passionate natures, but it looked like the humans could run a close second.
"No I'm not all right!" Archer whispered as he bowed his head and stared at his fists on the table, his temper of moments ago spent. "I just don't want to lose her."
"I understand, Captain." The Doctor patted him on the shoulder. "None of us want to see the Sub-Commander removed from Enterprise. She is a great asset to the ship." He watched the human assimilate all the levels of what had been said. Each man knew, and understood, that if the Vulcans were successful in their attempt to return T'Pol to Vulcan, she would be taking a piece of Jonathan Archer with her.
The Captain nodded, as he moved toward the door. His last hope hung with Hoshi's skills negotiating the twists and turns of the Vulcan Database. She had worked miracles before; he prayed she'd have one more in her bag of linguistic tricks.
"Captain." The Denobien wasn't through, yet. He was a doctor, and responsible for both the physical, and mental well being of the aliens under his care. "It's important to remember that if a person does not remain true to their principles, they lose their self-respect, their honor. If that were to happen to Sub-Commander T'Pol, it would be devastating. For her to be forced to make a choice between her principles and …ah…Enterprise, would be cruelly unfair. She deserves better than that."
"You're right, I know you're right, but that doesn't make it any easier." Pain flashed in Jonathan's eyes.
"She is a woman of great courage. She would expect no less of us." The doctor felt helpless to assist either of his 'patients.' "I'm always here, if you need to talk."
"I'll remember that."
"Oh, Captain." Phlox put on his most professional face, as a thought occurred to him. "I believe as ship's physician it is important for me to reiterate that Pa'nar Syndrome is a disease that it unique to Vulcans. No one else on the ship needs to worry about contracting it. It won't pass by casual contact, or even something as intimate as, say, mental contact, with the Sub-Commander."
"What are you trying to say?" Archer moved with slow strides toward the smaller man, not at all comfortable with the tone of the conversation.
"Only, that there is absolutely no way, NO WAY at all, that a non-Vulcan could be put at risk." The Doctor nodded and met the Captain's relentless stare.
"I'll keep that in mind, Doctor." Archer stomped out of sickbay, shaking his head in wonder. 'Had Phlox suggested what he thought he did?' One of the two of them had to get their mind out of the gutter!
…………………………..
Hoshi Sato liked to believe she was a woman of reason, but from the moment she'd handed Captain Archer the Padd containing the Protocol Of The Consul Of Vulcan Physicians, all reason had flown out the window. She had rushed to the nearest lift, praying that she didn't throw-up. One look at the Captain had confirmed all her misgivings of earlier. She headed for the one person she least wanted to see, but most needed to.
"Commander." She called out as she knocked on Trip Tucker's hatch, and hoped she wasn't interrupting anything.
"Hoshi?" He looked down at the woman who had hardly spoken to him in weeks. Though she had relented, and would sit with him, occasionally, in the mess hall, she always kept it formal and professional. Any headway he had been making on a personal level had died, when he'd slept with an alien princess while kidnapped.
"Are you alone?" She knew she was on the verge of tears, and kept her head down so he wouldn't see.
"Of course." He rolled his eyes at her question. It was obvious she still didn't trust him.
"May I come in, please?" Her voice trembled as she fought for control.
"Darlin' what's wrong?" He pulled her inside, as the hatch slid closed, unable to take his eyes off her distraught face.
"I shouldn't be here." She whispered. What had she been thinking, he was a superior officer and as such, was honor bound to report her for divulging information she had learned while on duty.
"So ya still don't trust me!" His face hardened and his teeth clenched.
"No, it has nothing to do with that, I wasn't even thinking about that." She paced his cabin needing badly to talk to someone. In the past Captain Archer was a person who had given her sound advice, and over the last weeks T'Pol had been helping her with relaxation techniques, in exchange for lessons on the use of chopsticks. At the end of those sessions, they'd begun talking of everyday things. Hoshi would hardly call it girl-talk, but it was as close as she figured a Vulcan was ever going to get. Unfortunately, if what she suspected was true, neither of those sources was open to her.
"Well that'd be a first. It's been how many weeks since you've thought of anything else where I'm concerned?" He was fuming, but couldn't let the chance get past him. She had come to him, and was talking. Maybe he could get her to forgive him. "Now you just calm down, and tell ol' Trip all about it."
"I can't." She could read the frustration on his face.
"Then why'd ya come here?"
"Because I needed to." Hoshi couldn't hold it back any longer. Tears began to slowly run down her face. She was worried and afraid for her friends, and felt helpless to do anything for them. She never believed anything would be worse than when she had been caught in the transporter buffer for 8 seconds, but this was! This complete feeling of helplessness that was for someone else was so much worse than when it had only been about herself.
"Come here, Darlin'." He whispered as he held his arms open. Much to his relief, she moved quickly into them. "What ever it is we'll figure out what to do about it together."
"No, Trip, I can't talk about it." She wiped her damp face against the front of his shirt. "It's something I learned…. something I suspect, from bits and pieces of information I heard while on duty."
"Just slow down there, Hosh." He rubbed her stiff neck, enjoying the silky feel of her skin and wisps of hair that tickled the back of his hand.
"Ohh, that feels so good. I hadn't realize how much my head hurt from all this." She snuggled closer to him, and let his presence relax her for the first time since they had arrived in orbit.
"You can take the pins outta your hair if you like, I won't tell anyone that it was on your uniform collar." He grinned, it had been on the tip of his tongue to offer to remove them for her, but Hoshi meant too much to him to play his usual games. "That bun at the back of your neck always makes you look sophisticated and in-charge, but I like your hair best when it's hanin' free."
"You do?"
"I sure do, Darlin. Whenever I see it that way, I want to touch it." That was the most relaxed he'd seen her in weeks, and he planned on keeping her that way. Maybe once he got to the bottom of what was bothering her, she'd give him a chance to explain about the Princess. "Now, you sit over there." He pointed to the end of his bed, and pulled up the hard backed chair for himself.
"I really can't tell you much, without violating protocol." Hoshi carefully pulled the pins out of her hair, and sighed in relief when the pressure was removed from her scalp.
"Gimme those, you don't want to lose 'em." Trip held out his hand for her hairpins, completely ignoring the many pockets of her uniform. After she had dropped them in his waiting palm, he stood and put them on his dresser, before sitting back down. "Now, what's this all about, I've been kinda outta the loop gettin' the Doc's new microscope installed, and tryin' to stay out of Miz Phlox's way!"
"So I heard," Hoshi giggled.
"Okay, who's got the big mouth?" He rolled his eyes. It'd been bad enough tryin' to keep Feezal Phlox at arms length, without the whole ship knowin' about it. A man didn't mess with a married woman, no matter what those Dinobians thought.
"Even if Malcolm hadn't said anything, I saw your panicked looked in the Mess when she joined us for dinner." Hoshi's laughter filled the room at Trip's discomfort.
"Damnit all, she's a married woman, she shouldn't go actin' like that!"
"Different cultures," she added, and wished she hadn't. Suddenly she remembered why she was here.
"How bout you tell me what's been going on, and don't you worry none, after all I'm third in command. If somethin's wrong I should know bout it." He tried to look serious, but he was glad to have her back sitting on his bed talkin' to him like she used to, and it was hard to believe that anything much could be wrong when in orbit of a medical convention.
Hoshi took her time and told him about all the recent activity that she'd been a part of. Almost nothing happened on Enterprise that wasn't routed through her board. She'd heard too many stories about COM officers who were nothing but nosy busybodies, using their position to snoop into their shipmate's lives. She'd always sworn she'd never let herself fall into that category.
"So, if I got this right, you think T'Pol's sick and the Vulcans are givin' the Cap'n a bad time about it?"
"It's more than that." Hoshi sat cross-legged on his bed and leaned forward, needing for him to understand. "Trip, he's scared."
"Naw, no way. Nothin' frightens him, especially not Vulcans!" He'd known Archer for a long time, and he'd seen him face off with more than his share of Vulcans.
"No!" She reached for his hand and squeezed it tightly. "Not of them, but afraid for one in particular."
"But that still doesn't mean…."
"You can deny it all you want." She shook her head at how stubborn he could be when he didn't want to see what was going on around him. "But they've grown close over the last year, especially since the time when the Suliban took over Enterprise, and he disappeared. I'm on the bridge; I see it every day."
"That would explain why the Cap'n took off with her when she had to go on that secret mission for the Vulcans." It was a mystery he'd yet to solve. "Jon was mad as a wet hen at first, then all of the sudden, they were takin' off together. T'Pol looked like hell when they first got back. And he seemed mighty protective of her."
Hoshi nodded and smiled. She had had the same thoughts, but kept them to herself. She knew Trip had been eaten up with curiosity, but had been professional enough to refrain from picking on Travis Mayweather, the only person besides Archer and T'Pol who knew what had happened.
"An' there wasn't much privacy in those quarters they shared on the catwalk." He'd wondered about that, too. Why would a man who was irritated by Vulcans choose to share sleeping accommodations with one, unless…? "Say, you don't suppose, they…?"
"Trip!" Hoshi rolled her eyes at him; he was taking the conversations places she didn't what to think about. "No I don't suppose they did!"
"Yeah, you're right, there was no real door, and anybody could've walked in on 'em at anytime." He fought to keep from laughing as Hoshi exploded.
"What!" She grabbed his pillow and whacked him on the head with it.
"Stop it, stop it, I was only foolin'." He laughed as he covered his head with his arms. "I know those two are too straight laced to pull any funny business."
"Good!" She gave him one last hard thunk with the pillow, before he grabbed it out of her hands.
"Now, Lil' Lady you just be careful." Blue eyes danced with joy, as he tossed the pillow aside and gripped her wrists.
"Lil' Lady?" She did a perfect imitation of his Florida drawl. "Little Lady? You can be a real chauvinist pig, Tucker!" Hoshi tried to sound indignant but was having a hard time pulling it off.
"Considerin' I'm not the one hittin' a superior officer." 'Or sittin' on his bed.' The thought struck him. His face was inches from hers, and it was taking all his self-control to keep from kissing her. "I'm just glad you're not mad at me any longer."
"I had no right to be." She pulled her hands free and suddenly found her fingernails fascinating to look at. "I mean it's not as if we were…as if we had…" She realized she'd gotten in very deep very fast, so she switched tactics. "I mean, it was unfair of me to hold you to a standard I hadn't followed."
"What!" Tucker surged to his feet as her words sunk in. "What are you sayin' Hoshi?"
"You know very well what I'm saying, Trip Tucker!" She jumped to her feet inches away from him.
"Okay who is he?" Trip was boiling mad. All this time he'd thought she was his and here there was someone else! "You're awfully friendly with Travis, or is it Malcolm? I know he was givin' you extra lessons on the shootin' range, was he givin' you lessons on other things too?"
"That's a terrible thing to say!" She hadn't realized he'd be so upset; after all he'd been casually honest about his one night affair with that woman! "And no it wasn't with anyone on Enterprise."
"Then who was it?" His eyes shot fire as he thought about her with another man.
"You're jealous?" The thought took away her anger and replaced it with amazement.
"Your dang right I am!" He stopped his pacing as the implications of it sank in. "Yeah, you're dang right I am."
"Now you know how I felt." She whispered. "But that's not why I told you. I just wanted to be as honest with you as you've been with me."
"I'm sorry." Trip cupped her cheeks as he leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "I'm sorry Darlin', I never realized." But that didn't make the chunk of ice go away that had formed around his heart when he thought of her with another man.
"There's nothing for you to worry about." Hoshi smiled up at him. The emotions on his face were easy to read. "It was a long time ago, before you and I…well, before we noticed each other. It happened on Riza."
"Riza, huh." He shook his head at his foolishness. He'd been attracted to her from the first moment he laid eyes on her back on Earth, but he'd still had some foolish notions that Natalie was the woman for him.
They'd gotten off track, but she'd been right to come. "Thank you, Trip, for listening. I'm glad we can talk to each other again." She leaned her pounding head against his chest. "I know there isn't anything you can do for the Captain or T'Pol, but you've been a big help to me."
"Maybe there is something I can do." He reached for the wall COM unit and hailed the Captain. He needed to have a talk with his friend.
Instead of Archer's deep voice on the other end, the young feminine voice of the Beta shift COM officer filled the room. "May I help you Commander Tucker?"
"I was tryin' to track down the Cap'n."
"He just returned from the planet, and has requested his messages be routed through the bridge." Ensign Martinez was trying to be as helpful to the Commander as she could. "He didn't want to be disturbed unless it was an emergency. If you really need to speak with him, he's carrying a hand communicator."
"Naw, that's all right, Ensign. It'll wait 'til mornin'. Tucker out." He looked down at Hoshi who still had her arms tight around his waist.
"That doesn't sound good." She sighed and shook her head. "I think that makes his third trip to the surface today."
"Oh boy! You think T'Pol's really sick?" He wished he'd spent more time paying attention the last few days instead of having to dodge Feezal. "Like maybe dyin'?"
"I hope not, but whatever is going on, has him angry and afraid. I've never seen him like that before."
"I'll walk you back to your cabin, and then I think I'll nose around a bit, and see if I can scare up anymore information. Someone's gotta know somethin'." Trip put his arm around her as they moved to the door. "'Sides, I need to have a chat with the Doc 'bout somethin' else."
"Wait, I need these." Hoshi reached for the hairpins he'd left on his dresser. They were the long, wide, old-fashioned kind that was needed to hold thick hair into place.
"Darlin' you got any more of those?" He kept eyeing her and the pins sitting beside his comb and a spanner he'd accidentally brought back from engineering.
"Sure, I've got a whole box full."
"Lemme keep' em." He grinned at her. "I like the way they look sittin' there."
"Men?" She chuckled as she rolled her eyes at his silliness.
…………………
All the way up from the planet's surface, the words had echoed in Jonathan's head. It had taken all his effort not to shout them at Dr. Oratt, when he had demanded the hearing that the Consul Of Physicians owed T'Pol. Now, sitting quietly in her quarters, they had just slipped out. 'I'm not giving you up without a fight.' He shook his head, had he really said them out loud, or was his mind playing tricks on him?
"But?" T'Pol froze in the process of packing, as she stared at the man sitting less than a foot away. Her hand clenched around the small book she had been pushing around in her suitcase since he had come to tell her of the hearing scheduled for the next afternoon.
"No." He crouched on the floor beside her, needing to bridge the space between them. "That's the way it is. We'll fight this thing together."
"I haven't changed my mind." She leaned against her bed, afraid to move. The last time he'd been that close, he had been what she had leaned against.
"I realize that, and I'll honor my promise to you." It galled him, but he had given his word. If she refused to tell Oratt how she had contracted Pa'nar Syndrome, then he would abide by her wishes.
She knew she had to put some distance between them. He was too close, and she was too tired to keep her mental shields intact. The vibrations from his emotions were bouncing off her and it caused a cold pain to clutch at her stomach. Turning she reach for an item that was folded on the shelf behind her. When she turned back she was careful to have put some space between them. "I believe this belongs to you, Captain."
"It does look familiar." A quirky smile crossed his face, which told her she had not fooled him by her evasive maneuver.
"When I packed to leave the catwalk I left this sweatshirt on your sleeping bag." She could not meet his eyes. The evenings they had spent together as Enterprise fought her way out of the Neutronic Wave, were ones she would always carry with her. "But when I unpacked, I found it among my things."
"You don't say." He leaned an elbow on her bed and fought the memory of her sleeping less than two feet away from him. "Why don't you keep it for the time being." He couldn't explain it to himself, so he was certain he'd never be able to explain it to her. When he'd seen the neatly folded sweatshirt where she had left it for him to pack with his other things, his only thought had been to hide it in her bag.
"Thank you, Captain." It was something that was beyond her understanding, but she was glad to have the shirt, it was a part of him, and she would take it with her. Another of the many illogical thoughts and actions that centered on this man.
"You're very welcome." He couldn't think of a reason to stay, but there was nowhere else he wanted to be. "I suppose I should be going? You need sleep."
"Yes, but it appears that it eludes me." She had not slept in two days and for the first time in her life meditation had not helped. Every time she tried, she ended up staring into the flames, her mind split into fragments of memories, instead of focused and clear.
"I don't think I'll get much sleep tonight, either." All he wanted to do was hold her again like he had done in his Ready Room, but she looked fragile and skittish
"Wait," she looked at him with huge eyes. Somehow in the last minutes he had edged closer to her. "Jonathan, there is something I need you to do for me." She had been thinking about this ever since Dr. Phlox had diagnosed her illness, but had been hesitant to ask. It would have meant not only telling him the truth about her condition, but to speak of sacred rites only known to Vulcans.
"Anything, and it's yours." His arm slipped along the bed, so close that it almost brushed her shoulder.
"When a Vulcan dies his family takes his body to Mount Seleya. They climb the Hundred Steps to the Hall Of Ancient Thought." She spoke haltingly; in her mind was an orange world scorched by a blood orange sun, and a powerful mountain that rose out of a vast dessert. "There it rests for one Vulcan day and night. Those who were with him in his last hours remain by his side to watch over him. Finally the Priests perform the ceremony, which free his Katra, what you Humans call a soul. Once set free, it is believed to reside with all those who have come before and all those who are to come after. That is way all Vulcans who die off world must have their bodies returned home."
"Why are you telling me this?" Archer had read the stipulation in T'Pol's record, when she had been transferred to Enterprise, but he hadn't known the reason. From the serious expression on her face, he realized this wasn't information that was given lightly to outworlders.
"Because those with Pa'nar Syndrome are banned from Mount Seleya." She whispered.
"My God, they'd persecute you even in death?" The irony of the total lack of logic wasn't lost on him, and it added fuel to the anger that he'd been fighting to control. "There is no need for this, you are not going to die!" He gripped her shoulders and shook her, refusing to listen to reason.
"Sooner or later we all die." Her chin came up in a show of defiance she didn't feel. "Some of us sooner than others."
"T'Pol…"
"Jonathan, this is important. You are the only one I trust to do this for me." She gripped the book that he recognized as the journal that had belonged to her second-foremother, T'Mir.
"Go on." He had a terrible feeling he knew what she was going to ask, and he wasn't sure he had the courage to hear the words, but if she could say them, he would make himself listen.
"If we are unsuccessful tomorrow, and I am taken back to Vulcan, nothing will be done for my illness."
It verified what he had believed, but was fighting against. "We haven't lost, yet."
Her fingers gently touched his lips to silence him, but she had to pull them back quickly as the tips began to tingle. "When I die, my family will be more than willing to give my body to whomever I have designated, as long as it is taken off Vulcan, freeing them of the dishonor I have brought upon my name." She closed her eyes to block out the pain she recognized in the man who was inches away.
"I said I wasn't giving you up without a fight, and I meant it." He growled.
She took a deep breath and handed him the small journal, which he had found so interesting during their evenings riding out the Neutronic storm on the catwalk in the nacelle. "I am giving you T'Mir's journal. In the back I have written the last known position of her ship, the T'Plana. It is very close to a small binary star. Ensign Sato will be able to translate the Vulcan writing and give you the exact co-ordinates. After death, I want my body to join with that star."
"You believe her Katra is waiting out there for you." His very logical Vulcan had a metaphysical side, which he never would have guessed existed.
She folded her hands on her knees, with her back very straight, and her eyes unable to meet his. She had always known he was perceptive, but she had not expected him to understand this. "I do not wish to spend eternity alone."
"That will never happen!"
"You will promise." She forced herself to look up, and was caught in the intensity of his gaze. "You will promise to do this thing for me?"
"I promise," he whispered, as he gently touched her cheek.
"Thank you." Then for the second time that day, she lay her head on his shoulder.
He reached over and deftly flipped close her travel-case, then placed it on the floor behind her. Wrapping his arms around her, he picked her up and moved to the head of her bed, where he sat, leaning against the wall, her body curled against his, and their legs stretched out side by side. "Now, you try and get some sleep," he whispered to the dark head so close to his, and flipped off the light, surrounding them in darkness.
She should tell him to leave, to move away from her. He was human and she was Vulcan, this closeness should not be, especially since she was dishonored. It was unfair to be with him, when no male of her own species would have her. As the words formed in her head, they were blocked by the knowledge that it did not matter. Because this was probably the only night they would ever have. And though she could allow it to be no more than it was at the moment, it would have to suffice. She had run out of time, there was no 'maybe,' in their future, because, if Oratt had his way, she would have no future!
………………………….
Jonathan bounced his water polo ball against the wall in an effort to rid himself of excess energy, but it didn't working. By rights he should have been exhausted, but he wasn't. He kept seeing T'Pol the way she'd looked when he'd told her he didn't want to lose her. She had nodded her head and told him she didn't want to be lost then left his ready room. It had been after the meeting with Oratt had ended so surprisingly, and after he'd been notified that the Vulcans were not going to take her back to Vulcan or inform the High Command of her illness.
He knew he wanted to talk to her, and it frustrated him that he felt he needed an excuse to do so. "Damn, I'm the Captain, I can talk to whoever I want!" He grouched at Porthos, as he sent the ball bouncing off the bulkhead, and headed for the door. It wasn't until he was almost out of the room that he remember T'Mir's journal and that he still had it. Grabbing the book, he slipped out the hatch, whistling.
"Come in." T'Pol raised her head off her pillow and watched the man in sweatpants and a t-shirt move across the room. Though they'd spent the night before, sleeping, sitting up on her bed, she couldn't let it happen again. Too many things had changed, and too many of them had stayed the same.
"I just remembered I still have your book. He knelt beside her. 'We've done this before,' flashed through his mind.
"The problem is still the same, unless Dr. Phlox can find a cure for Pa'nar Syndrome, my Katra will not be welcome on Mount Seleya." She watched Jonathan; he looked relaxed for the first time in three days.
"I'm putting my faith in the Doctor!" He smiled as he pulled out the old photo of T'Mir and examined it closely. "Yes, I believe you'll look very much like this someday." But it pained him to know that he would never live to see her at that age.
"Unless Commander Tucker does something foolish with the engines, you may be correct." As much as she might want it, there could be no repeat of the night before. Things had moved much faster than they would have, if they had not had to face the ramifications of her illness.
"Then I'll have to have a good long talk with him." He smiled in the dark as he watched the shadows play across her face. "You get some sleep, Sub-Commander, Enterprise needs her science officer." He stood wanting to say much more, but not sure if it was wise. T'Pol had told him more than once that he didn't always choose his words wisely, why should this be any different. "I meant what I said, I didn't want to lose you."
He was almost to the hatch, when a low sleepy voice caught him by surprise. "I did not want you to either." Her words hit him like plasma bullets through the heart, but he kept on walking. Later he'd figure it all out, later when they weren't so tired. After all, together they'd beaten the Vulcans today. Given enough time, together they could do anything!
Please read and review.