Chapter 6- Secrets



Archer looked into T'Pol's eyes, wondering what the hell had just happened. He had been kissing her, his mind's eye playing out a fantasy he'd had of her before; and then suddenly his mind was bombarded with visions, thoughts and desires that weren't his.

T'Pol looked back at him like a deer caught in a headlight.

She drew away from him, disengaging her arms from his neck.

"I believe we need to talk," she said and swam back to the shore.

Floating in the water, he watched as she scrambled out of the water. He suppressed a groan as he saw the way her clothing clung to her body once she rose from the water. She looked over her shoulder at him and then bent down, grabbed her bag, and darted for the nearest tree to change.

Sighing, he swam to the bank and climbed out. He also grabbed his bag and snatched some dry clothes out of it. Deciding that it was safe to change where he was, he started peeling off his drenched clothing, and dried off.

As he was pulling on a white cotton t-shirt, T'Pol emerged from behind the tree. She was dressed in what he could only describe as her casual clothing: a pair of dark brown, loose fitting pants, and a maroon sleeveless shirt.

He bent down and shoved his wet clothes into a separate pocket in his bag, then moved to stand up, wiping his hands off on his dark blue pants.

Staring into her eyes, he realized that what they needed to talk about was something that she didn't really want to explain.

Well, she was going to.





Trip chatted with Mayweather as they hiked next to a beautiful little stream. The mountains lay before them, and Trip breathed in a breath of fresh air. It was so good to be on solid ground once again, to feel the solid material underfoot, and not just metal plating.

The soft ground squished under his foot as he stepped into a puddle of mud. He looked down and laughed, as he pulled his foot from the puddle. The ground sucked his shoe for a moment before giving in and letting Trip go. It had been such a long time since he had felt the simple joys of taking a walk.

"So, where are the captain and sub-commander?" Mayweather asked, maneuvering around a small bush.

"I dunno, they went off in the opposite way from the camp. I think the captain mighta wanted to be alone with the sub-commander, though I'm not sure why," Trip responded shrugging.

"Yea, right," Mayweather grinned like a cat that ate the canary.

"What? Why does everyone say somethin' like that?"

"It's nothing. I mean, there just seems to be something between them, that's all," Mayweather replied, sobering.

Trip stopped dead in his tracks. "What?"

Mayweather stopped and turned around. "Yeah, you know, I think maybe they like each other."

"The Captain? Liking a Vulcan," Trip scoffed.

"Yeah."

"Uh, okay, sure thing, Travis," Trip laughed, uncomfortably.

"Suit yourself, but everyone else sees it," Mayweather shrugged and started walking again.

Trip shook his head. There was no way, no way in hell that the captain was attracted to T'Pol. Sure she was pretty and all, but she was a cold and heartless Vulcan. She wasn't anything like what he was usually attracted to. Trip doubted that she would even ever be affectionate with anyone, much less a measly human such as Jon.





T'Pol stood in front of the tree, holding her bag at her side. She took a breath as she watched him pull his white cotton shirt over his head and then turn to look at her. His gaze bore into her, and she felt like her entire soul was exposed to him. Perhaps it was. Perhaps he could still sense her in his mind, although that was almost unheard of, especially with humans.

She took a few steps towards him and set down her bag. Looking once more into his eyes, she sat down on the bank beside the stream. Staring out into the rushing water, she felt her emotions come back into check, calming her down.

Silently, Jonathan sat down next to her. He stared out at the stream in front of them, only occasionally peering out the corner of his eyes at T'Pol. Cautiously taking a deep breath, T'Pol turned to him.

"What did you experience?" she asked, her voice the epitome of self-control.

Jonathan looked at her and then back toward the water. He heaved a sigh.

"I'm not sure what it was. I just know, we were kissing, and then suddenly, my thoughts weren't my own. It was almost like they were someone else's."

T'Pol mentally chewed her lip nervously, though her outward appearance betrayed no such thoughts.

"Interesting. I did not believe that was possible with other species, much less humans."

Jonathan turned to her abruptly. "What does that mean? What isn't possible?"

T'Pol turned fully toward him, bringing her leg up underneath her.

"This is something that Vulcan's do not speak of," she blinked. "We are touch telepaths. We shy away from touching others, because when we do we pick up their emotions and their thoughts."

"Wait a second. You're saying that every time I've touched you, you've read my mind," His eyes widened a fraction.

"No, not entirely at least. A few times I've picked up on your surface thoughts and emotions, but I've never intentionally delved deeper. That would not be rational. They are your thoughts and no one else's. Any deeper exploration would be a violation of trust," she watched as he visibly relaxed. "However, this time I did. I couldn't stop myself. Being in such close and intimate contact, my barriers weakened and I was unable to stop the rush of emotions and thoughts that surged into your mind." She looked down, almost guiltily.

Archer touched her shoulder, making her look back up to him.

"So those images that flitted through my mind were your thoughts?" he asked, amazed at what he was hearing.

She nodded silently.

"And you couldn't help yourself? You couldn't stop them?"

She shook her head.

He looked back out at the gurgling stream, sighing with relief. At least now he knew what was going on.

Continued in Chapter 7