Best First Contact Ever Chapter 7: Best First Contact Ever 7, a startrek: enterprise fanfic

Best First Contact Ever - Chapter Seven

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T'Pol and Tucker walked back to her quarters. She remained silent the entire time, after they got to her cabin, Trip said, "Penny for your thoughts."

T'Pol walked in and turned on the lights. "A penny?"

Tucker smiled, "Old United States currency."

Confusion bore onto her face.

"I meant – what are you thinking about?" asked Trip, as he entered her quarters, taking off his shoes and socks.

She raised an eyebrow. "I am concerned Captain Archer will remain in the Command Center until he finds his answer. I am certain it will take some time, if he locates the answer."

"What's he looking for?" asked Trip, wiggling out of his shirt.

She shook her head. "The answer to a currently unsolvable riddle." She began lighting various candles.

Tucker sat on her bed and said. "Is there something going on between you two?"

She walked over to dim the lights. "What gives you that impression?"

Trip shrugged. "Call it an instinct."

"Lie on your stomach, Commander," she replied, rubbing her hands together to warm them.

"You didn't answer my question."

"Neuropressure demands concentration from the one giving and receiving. Do you not remember that from our first session?" she asked, evasively.

He snorted a little and clamped his mouth.

She placed her fingers along the young man's back and began to press lightly, then harder.

"Well, I'm just saying I could tell there was something in Jon's eyes," mumbled Trip.

T'Pol's hand slipped as Trip cried out in pain.

"My apologies," she replied. "Are you alright?"

Trip rubbed his lower back and grunted, "Yeah. Damn. Sometimes I forget how strong you are. Felt like you gave me a kidney punch."

"Neuropressure can be dangerous. I asked you to remain quiet. If I lose my concentration for a moment, the consequences could be more severe. You are lucky we had only initiated the first stages. If I had pressed harder, I could have damaged your kidney."

Trip sat up and said, "Do you want to talk about why you just gave me a kidney punch?"

T'Pol raised her eyebrow. "No."

Trip dangled his feet over the bed, kicking them lightly. "I've seen Jon go out with about two women in the almost ten years I've known him."

"Commander, I indicated I did not wish to pursue this conversation."

"He's kinda private. Hell, I'd tell him who I thought was pretty, who I was dating and what we did. But, he never really said anything about himself. It wasn't 'til I ran into him and Rebecca in the park, that I knew he was dating someone. Turns out he'd been seeing her for several years."

"How long?" she asked.

Trip shrugged. "That's just the thing. He introduced us, but that was about it. He's never mentioned anything about her, or their relationship."

"Is that unusual for humans? Vulcans rarely talk about these matters," she replied.

"I think it's unusual," commented Trip. "The guy's so damned focused. I bet he thinks he can't be the captain, or fight the Xindi if he has anything else on his mind." Trip patted the bed.

T'Pol skeptically sat down.

"Rumors about him in the engineering section back in San Francisco were that he was the most anal-retentive guy in Starfleet. He was wound up so tight, some of the folks said he could …" he looked up and noticed T'Pol waiting for him to finish the sentence, not understanding it would be crude. "Well, they just thought he was focused and driven."

"Why are you telling me this information?" asked T'Pol.

"Thought you might like to know," suggested Trip.

T'Pol furrowed her eyebrows and began warily, "I am unsure how I feel about him."

Trip smiled. He knew it had taken a lot for her to admit it. "If you want to know what I think, I think he's been crazy about you for a while. But, lately it seems it's a little more on the surface."

"I have driven him insane?" she asked.

Trip chuckled, "No, I meant he's liked you for a while."

"I hope he likes me. We are friends," commented T'Pol. Humans were very difficult to understand sometimes.

"I mean likes you, as in more than a friend."

"I see. How are you certain?" she asked. Archer's confession to her in Sickbay came to mind. She sensed it was the truth, but managed to put that thought in the back of her mind, not be to re-examined.

"It's more a feeling." He could see the Vulcan was thoroughly bewildered and responded, "I know the way he used to look at you when you first came aboard. I know the way he looked at you when we were on P'Jem. I know that since then, that look is gone and replaced by the way I saw him looking at Rebecca."

She raised her eyebrow. "You can judge this all by watching his eyes?"

Trip smiled. She was getting humans, but sometimes missed a key ingredient to them. "I think humans read body language – facial expressions, arm placement and what not to gather how someone thinks and feels about us or someone else. It's a hold over from our more primitive selves, before we had language."

"And by this body language, you believe that the captain has feelings for me?" she asked.

Trip nodded. "I'd bet my power relays on it."

She raised her eyebrow. She debated whether to tell him about the remedy to cure the captain from the Benovulan herb. She would never normally discuss it, but wondered if Mister Tucker might have some insights. She hovered near him, looking down at the floor.

"You gonna tell me what's on your mind now?"

She decided against it. "No. I am not sure I am prepared to discuss this further. I do believe we should continue your treatment, however." T'Pol stood up and began to warm her hands again.

Trip said, while she was preparing. "I know you meditate beforehand most of the time. My emotions aren't bothering you?"

He was a considerate young man. "No. I can assist you. However, in light of our discussion, it may help if you clear your mind of these thoughts."

Trip smiled. "Alright."

*********************************************************************

Archer continued sitting, looking at the screen. He turned away for a moment to massage his eyes. He mumbled with frustration, "This isn't helping any."

He'd looked though the entire database, but didn't see anything on triangulation of anomalies or spheres in general.

He looked up at the clock: 2342. He rolled his neck from side to side and continued to stare at the screen. He heard the door slide open behind him. He swiveled his chair to see T'Pol.

"Did you find anything?" she asked.

"No," he replied. "Not yet. But, it's got to be there." He turned back toward the screen.

"It is possible it is not there," she suggested.

'I guess I'll have to go through it again,' he said to himself.

T'Pol watched him focus back on the task at hand and become lost to the fact that there was someone else in the room. She silently walked behind him and continued to watch as he struggled to get through more of the data.

She carefully placed her hands on his back as he jumped slightly under her movement. She leaned in, "I doubt you will find the data tonight."

He commented, "You never know."

She watched the screen, as she kept her hands on his back. She whispered, "Take a deep breath."

"Listen, I don't have time for …."

"Just do so," she insisted.

He put his hands in his lap and breathed deeply. As he did, T'Pol placed two fingers on each side of his upper back and pressed. Archer felt almost immediately like tension was draining away. That felt much better than he wanted it to feel.

He looked up at her. "Neuropressure?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Aren't your hands tired?" he asked, trying to shake the need to sleep and his arousal.

He was right, they were weary and somewhat sore. She didn't answer and he suggested, "Why don't you sit down?" He stood up and offered her the chair. She gave a questioning look, but sat down.

"I did find some data that might be useful. We know that Benovulans served as slaves on Xindi for many years, but … the Benovulans apparently now have Xindi humanoid DNA," he said.

She raised her eyebrow at the information. "Why were we unable to find this sooner?"

"I don't think we were looking for it. I wonder what bearing it has on an alliance. They must know they are currently descendants of the Xindi."

"There is much we do not understand about the people in the Expanse: their political structure, values, alliances …."

Archer gave silent agreement. "If Dralan is working with the Xindi, and knows we're here – that could be a problem."

"Agreed," she said. She rubbed at her hands for a moment, noting they ached slightly.

He leaned on the console next to her and said, "Give me your arm."

Her eyebrows furrowed, but he smiled, coaxing, "Come on, I won't hurt you."

She offered it to him and he began to knead her hand and arm gently, trying to ease the tension in her hands. "We're going to press on."

She found the experience to be somewhat like neuropressure. "But, you know they could be leading us into a trap," she replied. Her hands began to loosen, though she felt slightly uncomfortable. His hands worked at her muscles, and she felt her hand go limp in his care.

"I don't think we have much of a choice," he replied. He focused on her arm, but continued to speak. "I was thinking if I take a shuttle down to the sphere, rather than have Enterprise in orbit, we might have the element of surprise."

"They could have been monitoring the ship since our departure," she said. "It seems foolhardy."

"I'm not convinced they have been monitoring us. Councilwoman Larana indicated we were friends of her people. I …."

"You trust her?" she asked. "After all she has done?"

Archer shrugged putting her hand into her lap and motioning for her other arm. She tentatively gave it to him. He held her forearm in his hands and breathed deeply. He gently maneuvered her flesh in his strong hands. Her arms felt soft, but strong. She raised an eyebrow at him. "I don't know," he said. "My gut tells me, for some reason, we can trust her."

"What about the possible triangulation we discovered?" she asked.

"You said yourself you weren't sure," Archer offered. He continued rubbing her hands, noticing how delicate they were. Her fingers were long and thin.

"Do you not think you should have more than your … gut … to rely on?" she asked.

"Maybe," he said. He looked down at her fingers and noticed something akin to a freckle. He smiled at it, thinking he wished he could put her fingers to his mouth and nibble on them.

"Jonathan, what are you doing?" she asked. She knew to a large extent what he was thinking.

"I'm trying to find out how to approach this problem."

Her eyes traveled down the length of her arm to his hands, kneading her skin.

"Oh. It's called massage. It's not Vulcan neuropressure, but it seems to do the trick," he said, trying to charm away any guilt.

"Why did you begin?" she asked.

"Because, I thought it would help you," he said innocently.

She stood up, as Archer let her arm fall to her side. She continued to stare at him, unblinkingly … which made him nervous.

Archer whispered, "I don't know." Her eyelashes batted themselves in confusion. Her mouth drew into a tight bow and an eyebrow tried to touch her bangs.

With a suddenness that shocked them both, Archer grabbed her shoulders and brought her lips to his. His mouth captured hers easily. His hands traveled down her back as he let a deep breath escape his nostrils. Once his lips touched hers, she could tell he wanted more. He deepened the kiss as his hands clenched her back. She broke their embrace, gently pushing Archer away, feeling her control begin to slip. She tried to steady her emotions.

"I don't know what the hell came over me," he replied in a hushed voice. Why?! Why had he done that? What on Earth made him attempt it? He had blurred the lines of command, friendship and lust … and badly. This was a textbook mistake, and something he'd had no intention of letting happen.

"May I inquire how you feel about me?" she asked.

Archer shook his head and let out a puff of air. It sounded like she was asking him something as simple as the directions to the nearest restaurant.

"I believe I deserve to know your feelings and thoughts," she insisted.

He hung his head to his chest. He cleared his throat and thought carefully about how to respond. After some deliberation, he whispered hoarsely, "It wouldn't be appropriate to say."

"I take it then, you have feelings for me that are deeper than friendship?" she asked.

He looked her in the eye and said, "Yes."

"I see," she replied.

Jon felt a stampede of emotions ranging from guilt, embarrassment, denial, regret, love, caring, hopelessness … and so many others he wasn't sure what to do with. He hung tensely on the balls of his feet, waiting for her to say something.

"We came to an agreement earlier …" she began.

He put his hands in front of him defensively and rocked back onto his heels. "I know. I know. I'm sorry. I'm sure I'm just tired …. I don't know what came over me. I'm sorry, I was a jackass. I made a mistake …."

"I did not finish." She confessed, "We came to an agreement earlier, but it was perhaps unfair. I was foolish to put us in a situation where we would become intimate, especially since I knew how you felt about me."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"While in Sickbay, before your shoulder was healed, you … you claimed you had deep feelings for me. I still encouraged you to mate with me to assist your … condition. I believed perhaps the affect of the drug or your near-death experience spurned your affection. Although I sensed there was truth to your claim, because of our dinner conversation, I assumed you no longer felt that emotion."

He couldn't believe his ears. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. She remained silent.

"I … I know the way I feel isn't appropriate," he said.

She raised an eyebrow, but remained quiet.

"Unless … maybe you feel the same way. How do you feel?" he asked.

She knew it was a fair question, but didn't have an acceptable answer. "I am uncertain. I believe you to be a dear friend. You are my captain. I trust and admire you. I have come to depend on you. You have saved my life on several occasions. I find you handsome, charming, illogical …."

"But, you said you were unsure about us?" he asked, grasping for straws.

"Yes."

That wasn't necessarily positive, nor was it negative. "Did you feel anything when we were together?"

She was taken aback; she understood his meaning. "I did not indicate otherwise."

"You didn't answer my question," he said.

"No, I did not." She took a deep breath and said evenly, "Yes, I felt something."

"Tell me," he asked, without restraint. Once the words fell off his lips, he knew there was no going back.

"Pleasure," she answered back. "Comfort, safety, desire, the sensation of being cared for…."

He'd asked the wrong question. Just hearing her say she felt something was taking a toll on his libido. He couldn't make his mouth stop working. He instead began confessing, "I felt joy, passion, love, lust, want …. Making love with you felt wonderful. Being with you, holding you, kissing you, having you in my arms felt incredible …."

He was desperately holding himself at bay. His mouth continued to get him into more trouble. "I know I shouldn't feel this way about you. I've tried ignoring it. I know I shouldn't worry about myself or my feelings; we have this mission to complete."

He whispered, slipping his arms around her waist, "And yet, my emotions keep getting in the way. I'd feel this way whether we slept together or not. But, now that we have, I find myself thinking about how it might happen again. I find myself hoping that …."

"Bridge to Archer," alarmed the comm.

He stared deeply into T'Pol's eyes and then broke off the contact, walking to the comm. "Archer here."

"Sir, Brennon here. I have a communication from Councilwoman Larana," said the beta shift communications officer.

"Patch it through to the Command Center," he said.

"Aye, sir."

"Archer out."

Archer continued to stare at the comm. How could he let things get so out of hand? Before, at least he had the drug to blame. Now, he only had himself. He swiped his hand across his face. Jonathan and the Captain had been two separate entities since they'd reached the Expanse. The two never mingled, and for the most part, Jonathan had been shoved into the back of his mind. He'd really screwed up. He'd really let things get out of control. Archer gathered his mental fortitude and tried stuffing the guy he'd been all his life back to back where he belonged – in the dark and alone.

She was unsure what to do. She saw him struggling to regain his composure.

Archer walked over to the con and pressed a few buttons and the dark-haired woman from Benovula came into focus.

"Captain?" said the councilwoman's voice. "I'm glad to see you looking well."

He smirked.

"You were right about the Xindi. The council building has been bombarded with fire. We were able to defeat them momentarily, giving me long enough to get a message to you. Dralan and the Xindi are heading toward the sphere."

"This on a secure channel?" he asked.

"Of course," she replied.

"How do I know I can trust you?" he asked, nodding to T'Pol to check the security. The Vulcan understood by his gesture and began to work in the background.

"I said we were friends, Captain."

"Or is it that Dralan has a claim to the power on Benovula now that he has some military power?" asked Archer, skeptically. He heard a ruckus behind her. Larana turned away from the screen distractedly and said something in a language he was unfamiliar with.

"Believe either way," she said. "I risked a communication to you." Suddenly the screen was fuzzy and an explosion was heard behind her. "They're getting closer," she whispered into the screen. Someone came behind her and tugged at her arm. She said, "End transmission."

Archer winced and looked over at T'Pol. "Cryptic," he mentioned.

"Yes," she agreed. "However, it did appear to be on a secure channel."

"Opinion?" he asked.

"Unknown. You knew we had to be careful while visiting the Xindi sphere. Perhaps this is the impetus to be more careful."

He nodded slowly and turned back to the console. He pressed a button. "Archer to the Helm."

"Parnel here," said the beta shift helmsman.

"ETA to the sphere?" asked Archer.

"Seven hours and forty-two minutes, sir."

"Carry on. Archer out," he said. Archer continued to gaze at the console thoughtfully.

T'Pol said, "I believe you should rest. I need to as well."

As she turned around, Archer's voice echoed in the room, with command. "I'm sorry for what happened. It won't happen again."

She lowered her voice and turned to face him. She looked into cold eyes, not those of the man staring at her a few moments ago. The light that danced in his pupils was extinguished.

"You have admitted a great deal to me. I am certain revealing that information was painful and perhaps you feel vulnerable now."

His gaze was unwavering and hard.

"What was said to me in that vein was as a friend, not my commander. I would like to think about your words."

"We had an agreement. I broke that commitment. It won't happen again," he reiterated.

'Puzzling,' she thought. Were humans able to completely suppress emotions as Vulcans were? She pondered the idea and doubted it was the case. She'd seen the man physically transform from the man she knew to the man he had become. "My views of you as a commander are unaffected," she indicated.

'My views of my command are affected,' he thought, but didn't change his hard gaze.

She raised an eyebrow. "You are no more impetuous than you were when you decided to face the Vulcan medical team on my behalf when you learned of my Pa'nar Syndrome. I did not mind your lack of logic in that instance, nor did I mind your friendship."

He bit back a smile. He let out a slow breath and stared at her. Was there any wonder why he was crazy about her? He scratched his head. "So, you going to get some sleep?"

"Excellent idea. I will escort you back to your quarters."

He began to argue, but decided she was right. He was exhausted. He held his hand out in front of him. "Ladies first."

They walked down the corridors in quiet, left to ruminate about their thoughts and feelings. She found herself pondering many of the things said, and the questions he had asked her: How did she feel? She was quite correct – uncertain. But, uncertain in and of itself meant that perhaps she returned some feelings for him. Undoubtedly she was accurate in her analysis. She did find him handsome, charming …. But, it seemed there was more. She did feel passion when they touched. Even his spur of the moment kiss in the Command Center felt sensual. His emotions were startling and exciting.

He was berating himself in his mind for his idiotic stunt. His thoughts played so loudly in his mind, he lost track that someone else was with him, until he looked up at his own door.

"This is me," said Archer.

She raised her eyebrow. "I did not realize we were already here."

He agreed, "We were both kinda quiet."

"I did not feel the need to talk. Your presence is quite comfortable; it is unnecessary for me to fill the silence," she replied.

"Guess not. Good night," he said walking into his cabin.

"Good night," she said awkwardly.

She clasped her hands behind her back and strolled down the hallway to the Mess Hall. Although she was tired, she wanted to further think on her actions before retiring for the night. She wandered into her room and let her feelings spill into her conscious. She admitted he was attractive to her. She admitted to enjoying his company – both mental and physical. She sighed and said to herself, "Perhaps there is more to my thoughts and feelings."

She determined perhaps the loss of her emotional control meant something. Her decision to assist the captain, despite knowing it would mean something to him was incriminating. She did not feel love. She did not feel friendship. Perhaps, she felt something in between. She changed into her pajamas and laid down, taking her pillow firmly into her hand.

As she closed her eyes, she thought about his mouth on hers. The tiny hairs on her arms prickled at remembering the sensation. Maybe tomorrow she would discuss this matter with him further.

*****************************************************************************

Archer woke up to a clanging from his comm. "Reed to Captain Archer," said the box.

Jon looked around trying to jolt himself into alertness. He thumbed the button. "Archer here."

"Sir, we are approaching the sphere. I wanted to let you know we have entered the cloaked area around it."

Archer sat up straight and said, shoving the bed covers off his bare legs, "I'll be there in a few moments. Archer out."

He sprang into action. He took an "academy shower" (five minutes under cold water, five minutes dressing and no shave), bolted down the hallway and pressed the button for the turbolift repeatedly in hopes of getting him to the Bridge that much faster. He stepped onto the deck plating and saw the metal sphere in front of him. 'The weapon,' his mind echoed. 'This could be it.'

He spun to the science station and saw T'Pol calmly looking on. "Can you scan it?" he asked.

She peered into the scanner and replied, "It appears there is an Earth-like atmosphere on the inside. There are also several bio-signs – Benovulan, Xindi and another, which the scanner is unable to identify." She paused. "No ships within the immediate vicinity."

Archer smiled eagerly at the screen. "Can you register the weapon?"

"Not at this time," she replied.

His face fell. He scratched at his stubble and said, "Lt. Reed, have five MACOs meet me in the Shuttle Bay. I expect them to be well-armed."

T'Pol opened her mouth, "Captain, I highly recommend that I accompany the away team, rather than you."

"No," he dismissed. "You're in charge of the ship."

T'Pol did something impulsive; she crossed over to the captain and looked deeply into his eyes. "May I speak with you in your Ready Room?"

Archer crossed his arms, "I need you here, T'Pol. That's an order."

She glanced around the room and decided to confront him. "Sir, Enterprise needs its captain. This mission is dangerous. It is unwise for you to attend."

He stared down at her. "Not a chance. I'll contact you when I get there." He seemed to be satisfied he had the final say and stalked toward the turbolift.

She called after him, walking toward the lift, "I think there is perhaps another reason you do not choose to have me assist the away party."

Archer stopped dead in his tracks. Surely she wouldn't bring this up in front of everyone? He slowly turned back toward her. "What do you mean?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Would you like to discuss this in your Ready Room?"

His eyes dared her. "In the turbolift on my way to the shuttle." What had gotten into her?

She agreed, "Of course."

"Mr. Reed, you have the Bridge," he called out.

They walked into the lift, as Archer brooded slightly, fixing his gaze straight ahead.

She hesitated until the doors closed. "I believe you are letting your feelings get in the way."

"You're wrong," said Archer, straight-faced.

"I understand you are concerned for me, but …."

He pressed the button, halting the lift. His face lit up with anger. "It has nothing to do with whatever feelings I told you I had. And, I can't believe you have the audacity to bring them up." He crossed his arms and growled, "Those feelings are gone. I asked you not to come because I need someone on the Bridge who has the experience you do, especially if things don't go well on the sphere."

She realized she made a misstep with him and said, "It is more logical for the captain to remain with the ship. Vulcan protocols expressly forbid the captain from taking the risks you are trying to take."

"We're not on a Vulcan ship, Sub-commander."

"Captain," she began, pushing the elevator button, pausing it. He stared into her large green eyes and blinked slowly. She continued, "Earth needs its captain. I am not vital to the mission's success."

"That's not true," he rebutted.

She raised her eyebrow. "I disagree. And, I believe the science officer is more necessary on this mission."

He hemmed and hawed over the decision. She looked like she wasn't going to back down. She never questioned decisions like this anymore. He relented, "I take it you want to go with me?"

"I was suggesting instead, Captain."

"You're not getting your way on that one. But, I can see the … logic in coming with me."

She raised her head. "Very well."

He furrowed his eyebrows. He wouldn't break his commitment. He was all business. He gave a single nod, and without looking at her, headed straight for the shuttle. T'Pol walked to the nearest comm. "Mr. Reed, I will accompany the captain. I suggest opening a secure channel to the shuttle. And, I would like for you to contact us every hour."

"Agreed," said Reed. "The MACOs should be coming down there any moment. I've asked them to arm the landing party."

"Good. Continue scanning the area for any abnormalities or ships. And, if Benovula contacts the sphere, contact me immediately."

"Yes, ma'am," he said.

She noticed Archer was already talking to the landing party and eyeing the weapons at his disposal. He picked up a phase pistol and notched the setting for kill. As she walked up she heard him explain, "This mission is going to be dangerous, but we know Earth is counting on us. I don't want to take any chances. Set to kill." He let his eyes fall on each of the team members, "Be aware and alert. Sub-commander T'Pol will lead Corporal McKenzie, Martinez and Hawkins. I'll lead Fields, and Malone." He smiled and gave a chiding wink to Fields. "You ready?"

"Yes, sir," said the MACOs with a dog-like woof to their voice.

Archer's lips split into a smile as he boarded the shuttle.

McKenzie took out a weapon and handed it out for T'Pol. "Here, ma'am."

T'Pol's thin fingers caressed the barrel. She creased her brow and holstered her weapon. She walked up and sat at the science station. She brought the systems online, as Archer acted as pilot. He tapped his fingers over the controls and said, "Here we go."

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