Best First Contact Ever Chapter 3: Best First Contact Ever 3, a startrek: enterprise fanfic

Best First Contact Ever - Chapter Three

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine

Archer's Quarters

Day after Archer kicked Trip from T'Pol's room after a nightly neuropressure treatment.

Archer awoke and bleakly lifted his heavy lids. He registered the world a little differently – greyer. Darker. He scratched his head and sat up in bed with disinterest. He looked at the chronometer and realized he'd slept until noon. Good thing it was his day off. Day off? Who cared.

He frowned and slipped out of bed wearily. He noticed Porthos' food bowl was near empty and shuffled over to feed his dog. The beagle licked his hand gratefully. Archer's hand barely touched his dog's head, as he walked toward the comm. He said weakly, "Archer to Sickbay."

A voice rang out in Archer's cabin, "Dr. Phlox here. What can I do for you, Captain?"

Jon sighed, "I think I need another treatment …."

"Another? Captain, I just gave you one last night. It should last the entire week."

"Sorry. It's just ….I'm sure I'll be fine," Archer moaned. He let his thumb slip away from the comm and sank back into bed, bringing the covers over his head.

A buzz sounded, forcing him to drag himself over to the door and open it.

"Captain, I was concerned …." Phlox stopped short, assessing the very unkempt man and messy room. The captain wasn't known for being the tidiest man on the ship – Mr. Reed was. But, under normal conditions he wasn't too far off. Today? He was nearing Commander Tucker's untidiness.

An unshaven man wearing wrinkled sweats and a large frown, said, "Hey, Doc."

"Captain, may I come in?"

Archer shrugged and moved out of the way.

"I provided some medication to you yesterday. And you still feel ….?" asked Phlox, trying to be sensitive.

"Depressed? Yes," said Archer. "Just give me the hypo and leave me alone."

Phlox sighed, "Captain, the dosage I gave you yesterday should've lasted the entire week. Did you try the exercises I suggested?"

"You mean 'visualizing myself in a happy place?'"

Phlox's eyes twinkled, "Yes."

"Didn't work. I watched water polo and tried nearly everything …." Archer walked over to his desk, sat down and pushed his face up on his knuckles. "Well, what do you want me to do?"

Phlox ran a scan over Archer's form as a frown took over. "I'm surprised at the low levels of endorphins your body is producing. I'd like to compare this to the scans I took yesterday. Have you tried exercising?"

"Yeah," he bemoaned. "Hardly seems worth it."

"Captain … I don't want to give you another anti-depressant right now."

Archer put his hand through his hair and sighed. "I don't care. Give it to me, don't give it to me. Not that it matters much. I feel miserable. I'm sure no matter what happens I'll feel miserable."

"What about that other suggestion I had? You know … the one where you perform that technique I read about in my scientific journals. Fascinating really this .. what do you call it … mast…."

Archer interrupted as quickly as possible. "Yes, I tried that."

Phlox crossed his arms, "And? You were able to …?"

Archer interrupted, uncomfortably, "Yes."

"Successfully?"

Archer's eyes darkened, "Yes."

"Are you sure?"

Archer rolled his eyes and said with a tinge of anger, "Yes."

"Well, that reduces the options somewhat." Phlox folded his arms across his chest. "There is a couple more that come to mind …."

"Sub-commander T'Pol to Captain Archer," screeched the comm.

Archer practically ran over to the silver box, jumping over Porthos. He leaned into it, trying to sound as sexy as possible. "This is Archer."

"Captain, is there something wrong with your voice?"

"No."

"I realize our agreement, but I was unable to contact the Benovulans and Dr. Phlox was not in Sickbay."

Archer thought about how they'd agreed not to communicate with each other until his symptoms improved and sighed.

"I'm right here Sub-commander," chimed in the doctor, merrily.

"May I meet you in Sickbay, Doctor?" she suggested.

Archer spoke up, "Since he's in my quarters, you could come here."

Phlox raised his eyebrows with interest as silence rang out on the other end. "Do you think that is wise?" she asked in a hushed voice.

Archer stammered for an response when Phlox answered, "Actually, that might be best. I would like to make a suggestion to both of you."

"Very well. I will be there momentarily. T'Pol out."

Phlox turned to the captain who ran into the bathroom and began shaving as quickly as possible. Archer asked excitedly, "Could you find my light blue shirt? No, maybe the white one. And the black trousers?"

Phlox blew out a short breath and waddled over to the closet, retrieving the clothing. "Captain, I know given your … state, it's difficult to truly reflect on the nature of your relationship with Sub-commander T'Pol, your science officer. But, I strongly encourage you to …."

Archer splashed water onto his face and ran a towel over his cheeks. He threw off his shirt and began to put deodorant under his arms, wondering if T'Pol would smell whether he'd taken a shower that day. He realized Phlox was saying something rather than quickly bringing him his clothes and snapped his fingers, "Hurry up! She'll be here any second."

The corners of Phlox's face shot down as he walked to the bathroom. Archer grabbed the apparel out of the Denobulan's hand and quickly changed into his clothes. He combed his hair when the door chime rang. He looked around his cabin and knew she'd disapprove of how messy it was. He began to kick dirty clothes into his closet, make his bed and tidy up as quickly as possible. Phlox started to move toward the door when Archer shouted, "Not yet!"

The doctor rolled his eyes and tapped his foot, waiting for the captain to finish his cleaning and grooming. The door chimed again and Archer ran to the door, opening it nonchalantly leaning against the wall.

T'Pol raised her eyebrows, "Did you not hear me ring the door chime?"

He wanted to throw his arms around her. Suddenly he felt joy tickle down his spine and rummage around in his stomach. The Vulcan looked radiant. He leaned toward her, taking in her spicy scent and grinned widely. "God, you look beautiful."

Phlox spoke up, "T'Pol, please come in."

Archer held the door open for her as she suspiciously eyed him. T'Pol turned toward the doctor, ignoring the captain's stare and said, "Councilwoman Larana denies giving anything to the captain. However, I was able to ascertain through some discussion with councilmember Dralan that there is a mating … ritual … that might have caused the captain's reaction. Each participant is asked to take a drink of something."

Phlox's mouth curled up into his face with delight. "Mating ritual? How interesting!"

T'Pol noticed Archer was very close, studying almost every inch of her. She distractedly turned back to Phlox. "It determines how … attracted each participant is to the other and prepares the body for … mating. I would imagine Councilmember Larana was enamored with the captain."

Phlox continued to beam. "So, why was the captain attracted to you, rather than her?"

"That remains a mystery."

Phlox said with bemusement, "He does seem awfully attracted to you."

"I assume it is his human physiology. At any rate," she said changing the subject, "I think it best to go back to the planet and determine the exact problem and the solution."

Archer was too wrapped up in the Vulcan to pay attention to the discussion she and Dr. Phlox were having, but did hear something vague about the planet. "Wait a second. Go back to the planet? Are you sure that's the best course of action?" asked Archer. "Our first priority is … to … the … mission," he said, fondling her lips with his eyes.

"Captain, I am uncertain whether we should continue with the mission. If your symptoms get worse .…"

"Have you confirmed the data about the cloaked sphere that Larana provided?" he asked, leaning closer, visually smelling her hair.

"No, not yet."

"I think we should work on that first. Don't you?" he asked, almost whispering it in her ear. His body was almost flush up against hers.

She backed away slightly. "Not necessarily."

Archer asked huskily, "Why do you say that?" His nose dipped into her hair.

She turned her attention toward Dr. Phlox. "Will the captain's symptoms continue to decline?"

Phlox was running a scan of the captain, enjoying their little tête-à-tête too much. He mused about his findings and asked, startled, "I'm sorry, I didn't catch that."

"I asked if Captain Archer," she said, backing away from him slightly. She tried focusing back on Dr. Phlox. "I asked if Captain Archer's symptoms would continue to deteriorate."

Phlox smiled, "Yes, I think he will continue to get progressively worse. But, I wanted to discuss an idea. And my scans prove it will work effectively."

"Go ahead," said Archer, not taking his eyes off his first officer.

"I recommend you spend more time together. The captain's symptoms have drastically improved since the short time you've been in the room."

Archer agreed, "Works for me."

"I am uncertain whether this is the best solution," she questioned, raising both eyebrows.

"Seems better than the alternatives. There are other options I suppose. You could provide neuropressure treatment to the captain …," suggested Phlox.

T'Pol guardedly glanced at Archer. "Are there other suggestions? Suggestions that do not include physical contact?"

Phlox shrugged, "Spending time together doesn't require physical contact. But, no, I have no other suggestions. Do you?"

She clasped her hands behind her back and regretfully said, "No. Not at this time."

"How long would he need to stay in my presence?" she asked.

Phlox shrugged, "Until we reach the planet."

"Do you agree we should head back to Benovula, Captain?" she asked.

Archer struggled internally. He knew she was brilliant and she was undoubtedly right, but he felt conflicted. He thought his first duty was to the mission – they were already on a tight timeline according to the Suliban and the man who provided them information from the future. "That's your recommendation?" he asked.

She gave a single nod.

He acquiesced, "Contact the bridge and let them know."

She turned to walked out the door when Archer touched her arm and asked, "I know you feel uncomfortable. Maybe it would be easier to do something else … provide me a sedative until we reach Benovula?"

She examined his face with curiosity. "I am uncomfortable, yes. However, Dr. Phlox's recommendation to provide neuropressure may have longer lasting benefits. Allow me to meditate and I will assist you. 1400 hours?"

"You're okay with this?" he asked, releasing her arm.

"Yes. I have performed this on Commander Tucker. Why should you be any different?" she asked.

He frowned a little, but nodded slowly. "Alright. See you in an hour."

Archer crossed his arms as T'Pol walked out of his room. He followed her out with his eyes and sighed as the door shut.

"Captain, let me know in the meantime if you need anything," said Phlox, interrupting Archer's thoughts.

Archer nodded. "Thanks, Doc."

Phlox twisted his smile and contorted it across his face, "My pleasure." Phlox's large feet pattered toward the door and he left.

Archer thought at least an hour would buy him time for a shower. He wasn't sure what this neuropressure involved. However, he thought with a smile, it sounded sexy. He shook his head – maybe he'd take a cold shower.

T'Pol's Quarters 1400 Hours

Archer arrived feeling jittery. He blew out a deep breath and thumbed the door chime.

T'Pol greeted him in a red pantsuit. Archer swallowed deeply, wanting to rush in and kiss her, and run away simultaneously.

Archer asked, "I hope I'm not too much trouble."

T'Pol raised her eyebrow and said, "Of course not. And, I am off duty until 1530 hours."

The room was darkly lit, except for a few candles, and she was playing something that sounded like jazz in the background. He felt his pulse quicken. "Jazz?" he asked. He listened to the tune for a moment and let a smile creep across his face, "Miles Davis, isn't it?"

"Yes," she said with a small amount of surprise. "I came to … enjoy … jazz while on Earth." She turned around as Archer loomed in the doorway. "Are you coming in?" she asked.

"Uhm, sure," he said. As he entered he felt his heart actually begin to race. His head filled with the spice of the room –T'Pol's smell was all around him. He felt lost, enveloped in her scent. He backed toward the door. "Maybe this was a bad idea."

"Why?" she asked.

There was no way in hell he could tell her why. He shook his head and said, "Just giving you an out."

She raised her eyebrow. "Go ahead and take your shirt, shoes and socks off."

Archer's stomach did cartwheels. "I'm sorry?"

"I said you should begin removing your shirt, shoes and socks."

His heart strangled his throat and he winced. "Alright," he eked out. He tried thinking of unpleasant things as he felt his body also begin to leap to excitement. He took a deep breath and chanted in his mind, 'She's just a woman. She's my first officer. She's just a woman. She's my first officer.' His shoes and socks came off rather easily. For some reason his hand slowed when taking off his shirt. He watched T'Pol lean over another candle and light it. He stared up at the ceiling chanting the same thing in his mind, focusing on the 'first officer' part.

She turned around to find him undoing the last button. "Do you always undress this slowly?"

"Ah, no," he smirked.

Her eyes lingered on his chest for a moment as she said matter-of-factly, "Vulcan neuropressure is the act of stimulating specific nerve endings. I'll focus on several areas of your body. For Commander Tucker, I have been performing something to induce sleep. For you, I will attempt to enhance your mood." She decided not to mention she'd also be focusing on curbing his libido. Judging from even her platonic neuropressure sessions with Commander Tucker, humans found neuropressure, in general, to be somewhat embarrassing. She knew this would be more intimate than her sessions with the engineer, but hoped it would relieve her friend of depression and awkwardness.

Archer nodded, trying not to stare at her attire.

"Very well. Because of the endings I would like to stimulate, I would prefer you lie on your back."

His ears didn't catch it, but his body sure did. "Huh?"

She raised her eyebrow. "Lie on your back, Captain."

He walked over to her bed and lay down. She leaned over him and said, "Relax. Close your eyes."

He shut his eyes and chanted louder in his mind as he felt her fingers tap along his waist to his hipbone. This was torture; his body struggled against his mind.

Her hands pressed into his side with incredible strength. She instructed, "Breathe deeply."

He squinted, furrowing his brow in concentration and trying to take a deep breath.

"Hmmmm," she said, pressing both hipbones. "You are not relaxing."

Archer felt her splayed onto his stomach and felt his mind losing the battle. He opened his eyes to let her know she should probably stop, when he noticed her face was hovering over his chest as she performed this movement. He called her attention, "T'Pol?"

She looked into his face as his body won out a little. She removed her hands, obliviously, "Was it painful?"

"No … I just don't think this was such a good idea," he winced, beginning to sit up.

"Why?"

He sighed and whispered, "It's getting a little personal." Her face was so close to his.

"Neuropressure could be considered personal," she countered. "Perhaps if you lie on your stomach. I will attempt to help you relax first."

He nodded slowly and changed his position.

"We'll start here," she said, touching either side of his neck.

He withered at her touch … well, most of him. He felt her fingers duck where his hair met his neck and press softly, then with more pressure. "That feels good," he said groggily.

"This should help relax you. Remain quiet."

Her hands traveled down his muscular back, stopping to tap at muscles in his body he didn't know he had. Tiny goosebumps sprang up on his arms, and he felt a little sleepy. Her fingers walked down his spine, toward his waistline. She rubbed the last vertebrae at his lower back as he felt his legs begin to tingle, especially his feet.

She leaned toward him and whispered, "You seem much more at peace. I will attempt to stimulate those nerve endings again. Continue to relax."

He murmured, "Okay."

She whispered in his ear, "Lie on your back."

He turned over wearily as her hands pressed against his hipbones again. He shivered internally at her touch as a warmth filled his stomach. He was beginning to tense up again and looked at her with something deeper than lust. He touched her hand, leaning up a little with one elbow, "I think you should stop."

"Do you not trust me? I could feel you begin to tense again," she commented, sitting down on the bed.

He let go of her hand and sat up. He realized how innocent this was to her. "I'm in a woman's dimly lit quarters with soft music playing in the background. I'm sitting half-naked on her bed while she seemingly caresses me." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Even if I wasn't drugged by the Benovulans, I might still feel …."

She searched his eyes. "I did not intend for this to be the reaction. I apologize."

Archer envied how Trip spent the majority of his nights. No wonder he was so eager to return. Jon's eyes focused on the graceful slant of her delicate ear. He always wanted to press lips to it … ever since he could remember. Something about taking the tip of her ear gently in his teeth made the right side of his face slope up. He traced his index finger up her slender ear and fingered the tip. "It's not your fault. You're just so beautiful."

She neither withdrew from his touch, nor encouraged it. "Captain," she whispered.

He wanted desperately to push her onto the bed and kiss her. He wanted to run his tongue along her neck. He lowered his lids and sucked in a deep breath, battling the image and the urge to press his mouth to hers. He stood up. "I should … I should probably get going."

"Dr. Phlox indicated it was unhealthy for you to be alone. I would not recommend it. I can work from my quarters easily and would welcome the company."

"I don't think I can," he protested. "I don't think it's the right thing to do." He didn't want to leave, but couldn't stay. He picked up his shirt and began buttoning it.

"What are your plans?" she asked, crossing over to him.

"Go back to my quarters."

"I was unable to assist your mood," she cautioned.

He continued to put on his shirt.

"We will reach the planet shortly," countered T'Pol. "The time you spend with me will be short. I think you should stay."

"I'm afraid I'll do something I'll regret," he admitted.

"You have not yet."

'No, but God knows I want to,' he thought. "I stroked your ear."

"I doubt you will do anything further."

He stopped what he was doing and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "I'm having trouble maintaining control." He pressed his lips to her ear and whispered, "I think I might do something rash."

She said hoarsely, "You can meditate with me. That may help control your feelings and thoughts."

His face inched up to hers and his nose brushed hers. "I don't want to control them," he said, his breath on her lips.

She felt on the verge of a gasp, but remained silent. She swallowed deeply, waiting for something to happen.

His lips began to make a dive towards hers, when he backed away suddenly. He wiped his hand over his face and said, "Call me when we reach the planet, will ya?" He grabbed his shoes and forced himself to cross the threshold of her cabin. He continued forward without looking back or saying anything else.

She thought his behavior since their return from the planet was bizarre. Something stuck in her mind – he was attracted to her for some unknown reason. In point of fact, the evidence Dralan gave was that perhaps he was attracted to her before, but his symptoms were now ridiculously exaggerated due to this drug. 'That certainly puts an interesting edge on our relationship,' she thought. She corrected herself, 'Friendship.' She leaned over a candle and blew it out, deep in thought.

He made a beeline for his cabin and threw his shoes on the ground. As the door slipped shut, he shoved his hands in hair. He was at the peak of frustration. Every minute with her was excruciatingly tantalizing. Every gesture he received from her left him craving more. Her lips decimeters from his caused his mouth to numb with delight. Her hands kneading his flesh tickled his stomach and brain. Her fingers wrapped around his hipbone ….

He crawled into bed and put the covers over around his neck. He felt cold, tired and alone. He shut his eyes and hoped he'd wake up and everything would be back to normal, or at least he'd have dream that was somewhat more satisfying than real life.

'Four hours ETA to Benovula,' thought Archer. 'Four lousy hours.'

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Video captures by fabulous Enterprise 8875©2003.
Reviews provided by Monica.