Best First Contact Ever Chapter 9: Best First Contact Ever 9, a startrek: enterprise fanfic

Best First Contact Ever - Chapter Nine

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine - the end

T'Pol whimpered into Archer's mouth as his lips covered hers. The tiny noises she emitted were driving him crazy. Archer dove for her lips again once they were out in the hall, and confirmed no one was coming. Rather than stop every few feet for another kiss, walking her slowly backward, Jon decided to pick her up, swinging her into his arms. As he did so, she exhaled huskily.

She didn't notice anything around her except for him. Vulcan phrases spilled from her lips as he continued to cover them, attempting to distract her. Her fingers were wound in his hair and her tongue begged him to continue to embrace her.

He realized he was panting into her mouth, as a crewman passed by who tried to keep his eyes directly ahead, but did a piss-poor job of it. Jon neglected the man, focusing on her and debated in his mind whether to take her back to his cabin. As soon as he imagined himself covering her with his body, he knew it would be wrong. He didn't want to take advantage of her, even though this felt exquisite. He knew under normal circumstances T'Pol wouldn't have been sexually interested in him. She seemed to make that pretty apparent during their "discussion" at lunch the other day.

Instead, he reveled in the moment, knowing it wouldn't be long and distracted her as he made his way to Sickbay.

She barely heard two doors swish open. Faint recognition reached her, as the smell of the medical facility interrupted her senses. She stared into Archer's eyes.

"You made a promise to me," she stated weakly, after searching for how to say it in English.

He set her down on one of the bio-beds as Phlox strapped her down, hoping she wouldn't become violent. The doctor knew a little something about Vulcan females entering Pon Farr, and didn't want a repeat of that incident.

As Archer helped to strap her left arm down, she fought him.

"I must have you," she growled, grabbing his arm, squeezing it until Archer thought his bone would snap.

He winced. "T'Pol, you're not yourself. Just let go and ... ."

While the captain got her attention, Phlox sedated her with nearly double the amount he would normally use. He noticed rather than conk out, she remained awake a little longer.

"I would've thought you wanted me," she said, weakly. "You said so before ... ."

Archer sighed and stared into her eyes. He gave a brief glance to Phlox, who obviously pretended not to hear the conversation. He then stroked her cheek and whispered, "Ironically, that's just one of the reasons I'm doing this."

She pathetically rubbed her face against his hand as she succumbed to the sedative. Her eyes began to slowly lose focus and close as Archer frowned.

Phlox decided to give his two cents. "For whatever it's worth, I agree with your decision."

Archer gave a slight nod and turned abruptly to walk out the door. "Let me know when she's feeling better."

Phlox nodded. "Of course."

As the captain marched out of Sickbay, he felt a pang in his heart. The woman of his dreams had begged him to make love to her. Had pleaded. And 90% of him had wanted to; it was sadly the moralistic 10% of him that knew it was wrong. He stepped into the turbolift imagining her nearly tearing off his uniform; on the sphere, she had come close. He noted the deck he was passing as he visualized her stalking him like a lioness. He shook his head, remembering her sweat-drenched hair, dark green cheeks and swollen lips.

He cleared the visage as he stepped onto the Bridge. He wanted to keep things nice and professional, as he'd agreed to do. Professional? Ah, hell. He'd given her a nice speech a couple of days ago, insisting he could put his feelings behind him, but that just wasn't going to work.

"Status?" asked Archer.

Trip maneuvered out of the captain's chair. "Good timing. A ship just popped onto our scans."

Hoshi looked up, "They're trying to hail us, sir."

Archer furrowed his brow and nodded toward the screen, walking behind Mayweather.

The image that displayed should've shocked Archer, but somehow he knew she would turn up again, and soon.

"Councilwoman," he said with a weak smile.

"Captain, I'm pleased to see you are well. I have found out some information," she said, rushing to the point.

"I bet," he grumbled.

"I was hoping, we could ... rekindle our friendship. I have information to provide you. Perhaps you could join us here ... or ... ."

Jon turned his head over his shoulder and caught Trip's eyes. He sighed, "You're welcome to come aboard."

She smiled, "Thank you for your trust."

He flatly replied, "Don't mention it."

As the screen darkened, Trip hid a grin. He could tell the councilwoman was enamored with his captain. And, he could also tell his captain was plain old annoyed with her. Archer folded his arms and stared down at the deck plating for a moment, trying to put his thoughts in order about having her back on his ship. If he didn't need the Xindi weapon so badly, he never would've invited her aboard. He just hoped she wasn't leading him on.

"You want me to meet her," offered Trip, trying to be helpful.

Jon exchanged a thankful glance. "No. But, I would like you to have dinner with us. The more the merrier."

"I bet," replied Trip, widening his smile into a grin.

Jon frowned. "See you at 1800 hours. Don't be late, will ya?"

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

Archer marched down the hall reluctantly. He thought about stopping into Sickbay, but wanted to let his first officer rest. Undoubtedly she'd be embarrassed by her actions; he certainly was when he was affected by the ... love potion. He rounded the corner and stood patiently at the door where the ships had docked.

Within a few minutes, Larana stepped out, wearing one of her most regal and appealing outfits. Archer noted with irony it was the same one she wore the night of the Benovulan party, welcoming them as friends ... and the night she slipped him a mickey.

"Captain," she said, beaming.

He could tell she was still attracted to him, a thought that gave him a slight buzz. After confessing his love, worse desire, to T'Pol which he didn't think she returned, it was nice having a woman pay a little attention to him ... and not be drugged.

"Councilwoman," he said, looming over her 5'4" frame.

"You've never formally shown me around," she noted, taking his arm.

He gave a small guffaw. "Let's cut to the chase. The information?"

"I thought we could mix business and pleasure."

"Then I suggest heading to the Command Center. Depending on the information you give me, maybe I'll take you on a tour."

She gave a slight frown. "Are you always this congenial with your guests?"

"Only the ones who betray me, try to seduce me and lie to me."

She knitted her brows.

Feeling he had the upper hand in that round of volleys, he led her down the corridors and to the Command Center. For some reason it seemed less problematic than the Bridge's Ready Room.

They walked in and she looked around. "This room looks very lonely."

He frowned, knowing he spent a lot of time in the room. "The information?"

"In fact, you seem rather lonely," she noted, picking up on his change in mood.

He decided to remind her more sternly, "The information?"

"I know where they are building the weapon to destroy your planet."

Archer edged forward. "Where is it?"

"My people fought hard to get this information."

"Where is it?!"

"The weapon is located in an underwater city on Azati Prime," she divulged.

Archer immediately turned around and began to tap a few controls to bring it up. "Where's it located?"

She sashayed over to him and placed a gentle hand on his arm. "The Malayan quadrant." She leaned into him slightly and pointed a pink painted nail at the screen. "There."

Archer brought the system up, focusing in on the planet. He couldn't believe he'd found it. This was the Holy Grail. This was it. A gloomy thought crossed his mind; maybe this wasn't it.

"How do I know I can trust you?" he asked.

Pity resounding in her voice, she said, "I have very little left. The council has become divided, the Xindi have betrayed me ... and I need all the friends I can get. You said that to me once, do you remember? It was when you were first on Benovula. You had nothing to offer my people, and you begged for our help."

She looked up into his eyes and saw him soften a little. He gathered that was the absolute truth. She looked desperate, needy, deflated and forsaken. There was no place for her to go, and no one to turn to. He suddenly had a lot of sympathy for her, despite ... well ... their history. He sighed and nodded toward the screen at Azati Prime. "Do the Xindi know you're aware of this?"

She blinked carefully and shook her head. "No. My personal aid was tortured and eventually killed to retrieve this information for me." Her personal aid was more personal than aid.

He furrowed his brow. He walked over to the comm and pressed his finger on the switch. "Archer to the Bridge."

"Reed here, sir. Go ahead."

"I'd like to head toward Azati Prime, warp 3. Take some long-range scans until we reach there; we're looking for kemocite." Archer thought he could get there faster, but not with the Benovulan ship docked.

"Aye, sir."

"How long will it take to get there?"

Mayweather chimed in, "About four days, sir, at the current speed."

"Thanks. Archer out." He paused by the box, thinking about the woman behind him. He turned his head over his shoulder and asked, "What do you want from me?"

"A tour might be a nice place to start," she replied with a weak smile.

Archer gave a small grin back and nodded. He thought it would give him a chance to stop by Sickbay and see how T'Pol was recovering, if she was still there.

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

T'Pol began to feel the effects of the drug slip away, as her eyes barely crept open.

"Ahhhh, Sub-commander T'Pol. I see you're awake," noted Phlox, merrily heading over to the bio-bed, as if eager for someone to talk with.

She thought about her deplorable behavior with a tinge of embarrassment. She sat up slowly as Phlox hovered over her like a mother hen.

"Uh-uh-uh. I'd like to run a few scans on you to make sure you're feeling okay," he said, grinning widely.

"I feel fine," she replied with just a little less stoicism than normal. In fact, she felt the symptoms were mostly gone, but noticed her emotions were on the surface a little more than usual. She tried to be patient as the doctor waved a scanner in front of her face and made "hmmm" noises.

"Your diagnosis?" she asked, starting to become annoyed.

"As the humans would say, 'fit as a fiddle,'" he replied.

"Excellent, then I will resume my duties."

"Not so fast. I would like you to take the rest of the day off. You seem a little more ... on edge than usual."

She furrowed her brow. "On the contrary. I feel relaxed." She wanted to see the captain and perhaps discuss their situation on the planet. She felt she owed him an apology.

He eyed her suspiciously and then decided. "Alright. Just, take it easy."

She raised an eyebrow and hopped off the bio-bed. "Thank you," she said, as she sauntered out the doors.

Phlox shrugged and went back to feeding his menagerie, something that always seemed to take more time than he thought it would, as the doors slid shut.

T'Pol took a deep breath and began to tap her boots down the hall, when she heard the captain and a female voice. As she rounded the corner she nearly ran into them. Archer was wearing a sizeable grin, and Larana seemed doe-eyed, gazing up at the captain.

"T'Pol?" asked Archer, smirking. "How are you feeling?"

Her eyes moved over to Larana who seemed draped all over the captain. Her hand was positioned through his arm, and her other hand stroked his forearm, just as it had the day they met the Benovulans. In fact, the Vulcan noted the councilwoman had worn the same outfit the night of the party, one that was revealing in all the places it seemed human men enjoyed outfits to be. Her eyebrows sloped down together.

"Better," said T'Pol, possibly a little too abruptly.

Jon gave her a look of concern as she recovered. "I am feeling only mild repercussions of the drug."

Larana stared down the Vulcan harlot – the competition. While she'd been alone with Archer, they'd laughed, talked quietly and smiled. As soon as T'Pol was within sight, the captain's demeanor completely changed. He was keyed up, eager and slightly afraid. She'd seen it before, even in their visit to her home world, but came to the conclusion that maybe he was afraid of the Vulcan species. Instead, what she learned was he was in love with her. And gauging T'Pol's reaction, maybe she felt the same way.

Archer said to his sub-commander, "You should take the rest of the day off."

T'Pol gave a near-frown. "I could escort the councilwoman around the ship, if you'd prefer."

"No, that's not necessary."

Feeling slighted, or like the captain wanted Larana's company, T'Pol only gave a slight nod. "Very well." The tone of her voice had a certain snootiness to it.

Archer feeling like she was being nasty for no reason said, "You going to be at dinner?"

"What time?" she asked, watching the Benovulan.

"1800 hours."

"I see. Who else will be attending?" asked T'Pol.

Archer raised his eyebrows. Did she want to see if Trip was coming? He recalled, "Well, me, the councilwoman and Trip."

T'Pol took a deep breath. Larana would be there. She looked between the two for a split second and said, "Of course. I have not seen the commander since our last neuropressure session."

Jon gave a small smirk and a nod; he knew it. "See you then." He began to meander down the hall, trying not to get lost in thought. He said, "Larana, I'll show you the Armory?"

T'Pol watched the two walk off, noting that Larana had swiveled into him ever so slightly. The Vulcan had been angry before, but this was difficult to control. He had welcomed the very woman who had put them in great danger on more than one occasion. And yet, like an overgrown boy scout, he undoubtedly came to her defense and seemed to want her company.

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

Trip walked into the Captain's Mess thinking Archer needed rescuing. He'd had a shot of "Southern charm" before dinner, which he rarely did. He knew it was going to be a hell of a dinner and wanted to feel more relaxed. When he got there, he was surprised half out of his gourd. T'Pol, rather than dressed in her cat suit, was armed in a flowing black dress with spaghetti straps. He didn't see Jon or the Benovulan.

"Hey, T'Pol," he said, smiling. "You look nice."

She raised her eyebrows and mumbled, "Thank you. It is now 1805, the captain should've arrived five minutes ago."

Trip furrowed his brow. If he didn't know better, he would say she was ... fretting. Maybe ... jealous?

"Well, I'm sure they'll be here ... ," as Tucker delivered a comeback, Jon walked in laughing as Larana curled her body into his arm. The Engineer gave a smirk. That was unexpected – that woman and the captain getting along. Actually, he noticed the councilwoman seemed pretty attractive. He noted her unusual violet eyes and smiled a little broader.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," said Archer. He noticed T'Pol looked radiant. With a little more seriousness, he admitted, "You look pretty ... ahhh ... unVulcan." Nice save, he thought to himself, scooting T'Pol and Larana into the table and made his way to the other end.

Tucker stuck out his hand. "Commander Trip Tucker," he said to Larana.

She shook it daintily and said, "Councilwoman Larana."

T'Pol was on edge. She hadn't meditated and felt her emotions bubbling to the surface, so much so that when Archer indicated Larana would be at dinner, she decided she had to attend. Worse, she wanted to look appealing for the captain. She believed perhaps she was feeling the after effects of the drug. Every time a wave of jealousy overtook her, she beat down the emotion bemoaning the lingering effects of the elixir.

"Did you enjoy the tour?" asked T'Pol, taking a sip of tea.

Larana smiled, "Very much so. The captain is an excellent host."

Jon beamed at her for a moment. "Larana shared the location of the Xindi weapon. I think it's the least we can do."

We? T'Pol furrowed her brow and said, maybe a little too emotionally, "And you believed her about knowing that information?" She sensed the humans and Benovulans eyeing her and said, "I hope I did not offend you, Councilwoman, but you have been less than honest with us in the past. This might be another plot to ... ."

Archer shrugged, "To what?" What had gotten into her?

"Deter us, perhaps?" responded T'Pol. "She may still be in league with the Xindi."

Larana waved her hand. "I can understand her sentiment. She doesn't understand the situation fully. T'Pol, we need your help. I have no allies left ... nothing. You, this ship, is the only thing I have left. My people are in the midst of a civil war, and my factions aren't exactly winning. I knew the kindness of your crew and your captain, and thought I would try and re-establish an alliance, as you tried to persuade me not too long ago."

Trip and Archer seemed relatively satisfied with the answer as T'Pol raised a wary eyebrow at her tea and decided maybe there were other reasons Jonathan was helping this woman. The Vulcan wasn't quite satisfied with the answer, but remained silent. She glanced up at Commander Tucker to determine his reaction. He seemed to be thirstily gulping his water and noticed her eyes on him and smiled.

Archer furrowed his brow at his first officer. She was acting a little weird. She seemed to almost be questioning his judgment. That raised his hackles ... that and the fact she kept glancing over at Trip.

Tucker decided to start a light dinner conversation. "So, Councilwoman ... ."

"You can call me Larana," she smiled.

He grinned back and warily looked at the captain. "All right, Larana. I heard that Benovulans have many spouses."

"Some do, especially those in positions of power."

"How many you got? If it's not too personal," asked the engineer.

"Six."

"Is that average?" asked Archer.

"No. I'm in a higher position, I have more spouses than most."

Trip seemed to become amused at the number, as T'Pol internally rolled her eyes. 'When will this dinner be over?' she asked herself, stabbing a piece of lettuce.

"Tell me, are you married?" asked Larana to Archer.

He furrowed his brow and said, "Uhm, no."

She raised her eyebrows. "You Commander Tucker?"

He grinned, "You can call me Trip. Nope, hadn't had the good fortune to yet."

Her saccharine smile became more pronounced. "I'm just sure you two haven't met the right woman. You, T'Pol?"

"No," she noted. "In fact, most of the people on this vessel aren't married."

"Pity. I've enjoyed every marriage."

"We got a doctor on board who has three wives, but they're also married to other men. What about your husbands?" asked Trip.

"Only the ones with the highest power. For example, one of my spouses is a doctor. He has three other wives. One is an architect; he has two. It's convenient, but I find I still have a ... wandering eye. I like things of beauty." She delivered the line, gazing at Archer.

He was listening half-heartedly to the conversation, but noticed the last of the speech was delivered while looking at him. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

Dinner continued, with T'Pol remaining entirely too quiet, as she watched the nonverbal cues back and forth from the captain to Larana. She noted Commander Tucker was somewhat smitten with the councilwoman as well. The woman was playing damsel in distress, and neither man could help themselves but become enamored with her.

As soon as a crewmen collected their plates, Larana spoke up. "Captain, I have further matters to discuss with you. Maybe I could walk back with you to your room?"

Archer jerked his head a little, thinking for a brief second she was coming onto him again. He sighed, thinking he was just being overly cautious and resigned himself, "Okay."

Larana knew she owed Archer one last favor, and thought that flirting with him all night and making that request in front of T'Pol was all the science officer needed to teeter closer to jealousy. And the councilwoman was satisfied when her request was met guardedly by Archer and with surprise by T'Pol.

The councilwoman stood up and gathered her robes around her. "I'm ready when you are, Jonathan."

T'Pol's brows knitted as a specter of a frown grazed her lips. She seemed to let out a slow sigh as Archer and the councilwoman left the room.

Tucker stayed behind, watching T'Pol. "Why don't you go after him?"

"What?" she asked, pretending it didn't bother her.

"I said, 'Go after him.'"

"I do not understand," she admitted wiping the corners of her mouth.

"You've been stewing in envy all night."

"That is ridiculous," she retorted, wishing her emotions were under control.

"Suit yourself." Trip shrugged and left his seat, "Well, I gotta get going. Movie night's tonight. Fatal Attraction. Hell of a movie," he quipped. "Have a nice evening, Sub-commander."

As the commander strutted out the Captain's Mess, T'Pol sighed. Tucker was correct; she had been jealous. In fact, she'd been feeling envy, confusion, misunderstanding and many more emotions. Her mind raced to think of just the other night – she and Archer were in the Command Center, where he'd confessed his feelings for her. The confession itself was ... beautiful. Yes, beautiful, not 'pleasing.' Human emotions ran deep, and it was obvious the man had a difficult time revealing his feelings, which made her treasure them even more. She doubted these thoughts were lingering from the after effects of the aphrodisiac. Perhaps these were merely exacerbated by the love potion. She stared down at the table and thought about her recourse.

She could of course, allow Larana and Archer to talk business. Although he seemed attracted to her, and certainly vice versa, she doubted anything would happen between them ... unless she drugged him. She did not rule out that possibility.

She could conveniently go to Archer's quarters and check on them, just to make sure he was not drugged. But, he may see that as an invasion of privacy ... unless it was work related. After all, she had been meaning to discuss the week's duty roster with him, and what better time than now.

Dismissing the need to first meditate, she headed to her room to retrieve the duty roster PADD and bring it to his room.

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

"So, what's this business you want to discuss with me?" asked Jon, feeling a little uncomfortable.

Larana looked at his bed and said, "May I sit?"

Archer nodded slowly, as the woman spread herself on it, leaning with one hand on his mattress.

"This bed seems very hard," she said, coyly.

Archer sighed, "What did you want to discuss?"

"After you capture or destroy the Xindi weapon, I was hoping you'd give some aid to me and my people for our rebellion. A few weapons, perhaps some training ... ."

He snorted, "I knew this was coming. I'll have to think about it."

She patted the bed. He grudgingly sat down beside her.

"I appreciate knowing where the weapon is. As soon as we can destroy it, I'll need to check back in with my superiors," he commented.

"I understand. I knew it was a long shot, but felt it necessary to ask."

"Well, if you didn't, I would've known something was ... up," he admitted with a smile.

"Jonathan, you have lovely eyes," she indicated. "Green eyes on my planet are very rare."

He stood up. "Well, if there isn't anything else you wish to discuss ... ."

"I know how alone you are. I can see it in everything you do. I can ... sense it."

He squinted his eyes. "Larana ... "

She sauntered over to him and rubbed her hands against his chest. "There's nothing wrong with wanting affection, attention ... female companionship."

This wasn't going well. Of course there was nothing wrong with wanting affection, but he really didn't want hers. Well, his body was starting to believe maybe hers wouldn't be so bad.

She snuggled against him, as his hands stayed at his side. "Larana," he said, giving her ample warning.

She was bringing her mouth close to his when the door chimed.

Archer gave a half-smile and headed for the door. He was stunned to see T'Pol, holding a PADD, but still dressed in the attire she wore at dinner.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

"I brought this by for you to review."

Larana smiled. Her plan seemed to be working well. She sashayed up to Archer, placing her head on his shoulder and nuzzling her face into it.

T'Pol's eyebrow shot up in response. With a bit of snippiness in her voice she said, "I can come back when it's more convenient, Captain."

He squirmed out of Larana's grasp. "No, come in."

The councilwoman noted T'Pol watching Archer look over the duty roster. The Vulcan wasn't just watching his eyes look at the screen, but noticed they darted to the man's mouth, neck and hands. Maybe things would progress naturally if she made a quick exit. The woman thought one more nudge would be all that was needed and worked out just the right thing to say.

"Perhaps when your business concludes, you can join me in my cabin," she noted. Her hand wound around his chest and she swiveled her hips toward the door, knowing he'd be watching her walk out. She wasn't disappointed. She wiggled her fingers as the door slid shut and walked normally to her cabin. The human would likely never know about this favor, and it was just as well.

'The Vulcan might figure it out,' she concluded. 'Maybe.'

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

Archer looked over the duty roster very thoroughly and took it back to his desk. "Like to have a seat?" he offered.

T'Pol looked around and decided the bed was closest to the desk. She sat down with trepidation; she'd never sat on the man's bed. He looked up, noting that she was sitting in nearly the same spot Larana did. Rather than drape herself onto the bed, the Vulcan sat ramrod straight, looking around his room. He smiled and then forced himself to stop. She'd already made it abundantly clear how she felt.

He removed the stylus from the side and scribbled his signature at the bottom. The list was complete and detailed ... as it always was. He got up and handed it over.

"What did the councilwoman want?" asked T'Pol.

"Huh?"

"She indicated she had business to conduct with you. Although, it didn't seem like you two were conducting ... business."

He scratched his head. Was she questioning his judgment again? "Look, I don't need to explain every decision I make as captain."

She stood slowly, gripping the PADD. "No, you do not."

As she swished her way to the door, she turned around. "I did not believe you would be so foolish as to become involved with the councilwoman again, but if you choose to be, I presume that is your concern."

"Wait a minute. She asked me if after we destroy the Xindi weapon, whether I'd help her people."

"And you said, 'yes'?" asked T'Pol, already drawing the conclusion he had.

"No. I said I'd think about it."

"It is obvious the councilwoman has more than merely interest in her own people. She seems to be quite ... fascinated with you."

Taken aback, he said, "I don't see how that's your business."

"My apologies. I did not want you to seem foolish, chasing women seems to be more Commander Tucker's style."

Archer raised his eyebrows in anger. "I wasn't chasing her. She was coming onto me. And as for Commander Tucker, you seem to like his

attention. Maybe it's just that women throw themselves at him."

"We have already had this discussion. I do not care for Commander Tucker."

He growled, "Nice dress." That should really put her in her place; he knew she was wearing it for Trip.

"I did not wear this for him," she said, raising her voice slightly. She had been foolish to not go immediately back to her quarters and meditate.

As if he didn't hear her correctly, confusion collected on his face. "I don't understand."

"Jonathan, I wore this for you," she said, irritated with herself.

Still squinting, he said, "Are you still being affected ...?"

Giving a near pout, she said, "I wanted to accompany you to the sphere as your first officer, but mostly because I ... care for you."

Feeling like he'd had his chain yanked one too many times by her, he continued to squint as if he hadn't really heard what she'd been saying.

"I don't get it. You've made it abundantly clear you're not interested in me," stated Archer.

"Do you remember the morning after our night together? I asked you to leave ... ." she prompted.

"Yeah," he said regretfully. Archer recalled that moment painfully – nothing like feeling exquisite happiness only to have it pummeled by the idea that you hadn't quite ... lived up to expectations. He thought back to that moment; she'd clenched the sheets up to her chin and basically told him to get the hell out. The funny thing was he'd felt their night together had been incredible and waking up beside her had felt sublime. Although he was no longer under the influence of the drug, he'd wanted to spend all day enveloping her in his arms and covering her with kisses. Yeah, he remembered that day; it was crushing.

"I wasn't entirely honest with you. You remarked that the experience felt ... I believe wonderful," she noted, watching him eye her suspiciously – neither agreeing or disagreeing.

She continued warily, "Our first time together was so ... enjoyable ... and ... emotional that I wanted to continue to be with you, even though I knew you were already ... cured. I enjoyed the ... feeling of being with you."

He was stunned. He knew it was difficult to get out. The pauses in her speech let him know how difficult the information was get out.

"Well, if you liked it, why'd you push me away?" He'd wondered why she'd initiated their third, but not final, foray. Maybe that was the one constant in the universe -- no matter the species, he would never figure out women ... Vulcan women included.

"It was because I ... enjoyed our experience together that I asked you to leave. It ... no ... you ... made me ... feel."

He closed the gap between them. "Why? Why did you tell me the next day that we should keep our relationship strictly professional?"

She raised an eyebrow. "You did not object."

"I wanted to, but you made it sound like your decision was final. Besides, what about in the Command Center? I thought I made my feelings abundantly clear."

"I needed time to reflect. I said I was unsure about how I felt. I ... mostly believed starting a relationship with you would be difficult."

"I think it'd be difficult too, but was ... am ... willing to give it a shot."

"As am I," she concluded.

"What's changed your mind?"

"I ... cannot imagine being without you. I was disappointed even after I awoke that you did not fulfill your promise to me earlier today."

Time seemed to stand still and he thought about encircling her in his arms and kissing her passionately when she beat him to the punch.

She held up two fingers, gazing into his eyes. "Do you still care for me?"

"No, I don't care for you." He watched sadness adorn her eyes and clarified, "I'm crazy about you."

He took the PADD from her hand and tossed it on his bed. "I'm in love with you." His two fingers stroked hers lightly, as he panted at the feel. His forehead touched hers as they gazed into each other's eyes.

Unlike his last encounter, he wanted to put his knowledge of Vulcan rituals into play. Instead of lunging at her mouth, he let his fingers rest against hers and ran them slowly up her arm while maintaining eye contact, which he noted gave her goose bumps.

In response, she ran her fingers along his jaw line, enjoying the feel of the tiny coarse hairs growing on his face, while studying the cleft in his chin and the lagoon-color of his eyes.

His hand curved up her neck and he tapped his fingers lightly against her lips. She kissed at his fingertips, staring, unblinkingly into his eyes. He wanted to smile, but instead met her eyes with the same intensity. Her fingers traced his mouth as his tongue flicked at her digits, indicating (to a Vulcan) he was aroused. She raised her eyebrow at the thoroughness at which he'd read about her people's mating rituals as she returned the gesture.

The two began to let their fingers do the talking, stroking each other's face, ears, arms and neck, for nearly an hour. Their mouths hovered near each other's without touching. Jon was amazed at how exciting it was to continue to almost kiss her. Each finger touch left the other uncontrollably panting onto each other's lips in huffs.

She decided to be a little more forward, as her hands tugged slowly at his zipper, and she dodged her fingers under his shirt, trailing her fingers along his chest. He moaned into her open mouth, but teased himself away from capturing her lips with his. It was all new and exhilarating. Her fingers dancing down his chest felt remarkable and slightly ticklish.

Archer'd read that Vulcans enjoyed long sessions of what humans might call petting, but it seemed much more tame -- very little unzipping and much more innocent -- but possibly just as arousing. As their fingers and breathing became more frenzied, and their mouths inched closer and closer together, Archer's tongue barely reached for hers when suddenly their mouths connected.

Waiting for that kiss and exploring each other's mouths only now was highly satisfying and erotic. Each kiss became more passionate and desperate.

His teeth gently nibbled on her lips, before he let them explore her ears and her neck. His index and middle finger traced her flushed throat as he kissed it, giving tender love bites as he did so.

His emotions were still mostly kept at bay, but now and again, she sensed them. They were glorious; he was completely mesmerized by her.

She also noticed he was debating in his mind asking her to stay the night. He didn't want to be presumptuous, but desperately wanted to hold her while she slept. And, if he had his druthers, he'd be holding her when she was slightly sweaty and completely naked.

She broke the awed silence the two had shared since the beginning of their finger parade, hoping to deliver the right amount of human forwardness. "You did promise me you would do whatever I wanted ... as many times as I wanted," she said, leading him over to the bed. "I'd hoped you would not break that contractual obligation."

A lop-sided grin crashed onto his face, as he pushed her gently down and said, "I like to keep my promises."

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

At breakfast the next morning, Trip noted frequent glances between the captain and first officer. As soon as T'Pol took a bite of her breakfast, her eyes flitted toward the captain. Archer caught her eye, bit back an obvious smile and tucked into his meal.

"Larana's back on the Benovulan ship, Cap'n," offered the engineer. He was surprised the captain hadn't asked about it. There hadn't really been much conversation that morning. Well, maybe there were other things on his mind.

Archer was so engrossed in T'Pol that he barely heard his friend. "Oh. Right. Thanks for letting me know."

Trip smiled, "No problem. So, the councilwoman said you may agree to help her people out after we destroy the weapon at Azati Prime."

"Possibly. I told her I'd think things over. What do you think, T'Pol?" he asked, trying to take the huskiness out of his voice in mentioning her name.

"The Vulcan government has made a practice of not choosing sides in wars. However, I would hate to see Dralan come to power."

He agreed, "We still have a few days before we reach Azati Prime." He couldn't believe it. Reed had contacted him late last night ... slightly in the middle of things ... to let him know they had indeed found kemocite -- tons of it. They were speeding toward the weapon and were well on their way, hopefully, to victory or at least saving his planet.

Archer had a lot to celebrate.

Things had changed a lot in the past week. He recalled setting down on Benovula wondering how the mission would turn out. Irony excited his brain -- he remembered thinking it was the best first contact ever; the mission, at the time, seemed to be going so right. He looked over at T'Pol and grinned. No, she probably was 'the best first contact ever.' Without having the aphrodisiac affect him, he never would've acted on his feelings for her or even admitted them. He was perfectly happy bottling them up and denying they existed. Maybe drinking the concoction was one of the best things that could've happened to him. He stared into his meal and relived last night. If it were possible, things were even more incredible yesterday evening and this morning than before. Better still, when she woke up in his arms, she didn't force the covers to her chin. Instead, she sought out his lips and whispered that she cherished him and wanted him again.

T'Pol watched Archer with her peripheral vision. She sorted through the events on Benovula, remembering her irritation when the captain had lavished attention on Larana. As she'd watched them strike up a conversation, she was Vulcanly elated that Dralan had encouraged her to break the two up. When the captain had first started coming onto her, she was cool. She'd always thought he was handsome, but decided nothing more could come between them. Having him succumb to the effects of the elixir, and eventually falling under its influence herself, showed how much she cared for the man. If it were not for the drug, she would never have acted on her attraction nor wanted to pursue a more meaningful relationship. But, last night was just an affirmation that they were destined to be together. She craved him like she desired meditation and water; he was essential to her life.

When they'd both parted early in the morning, before their shifts, they had decided to meet for breakfast early thinking it would be just the two of them. Both were a little disappointed in seeing Tucker. No, they were a lot disappointed.

Trip chomped on his toast and noticed the interaction between the two, thinking it was just a little too quiet in the Captain's Mess. He wondered what the heck they were thinking. Maybe it was best he didn't know.

"Captain, Sub-commander, you've been through a lot this past week. The engines are in pretty good shape – no major repairs or problems today. Maybe you should take the day off. I can ... uh ... mind the store."

Archer was about to object.

"Might make you sharper when dealing with the weapon. You two look a little pre-occupied today," he noted. "And like you could use a little sleep."

Jon nodded slowly, thinking about wanting to just be with her for one day. He felt a little selfish at wanting to play footsie with her, talk about their relationship, take a shower with her and have her lean up against his chest as he read a book. Seemed like heaven. Okay, so he'd probably wander into the Command Center for a short period of time to study Azati Prime, but was imagining he'd do so as T'Pol took an afternoon nap after he'd made love to her.

Archer left a smile drift across his face and nodded. "You've got a deal. I could use some rest."

T'Pol looked between the men. She thought about going back to Jonathan's quarters and possibly leading him through meditation. Perhaps the two would converse about their relationship, their next steps and specific Vulcan and human expectations. They should also discuss Azati Prime and what to do about the Benovulans. Possibly, she could cajole him into performing a more erotic version of neuropressure on each other; the idea caused her eyebrow to give a slight twitch. She hoped he wouldn't visit the Command Center.

She agreed, "I could catch up on my meditation."

Trip smiled, noting Jon wolfing down the rest of his meal as T'Pol wiped her mouth and set her napkin delicately on the table. As Archer guzzled the remainder of his coffee and orange juice, he gave T'Pol a quick glance.

"I'm gonna go head back to my room. T'Pol, maybe we can discuss your recommendation about the Benovulans before you take the rest of the day off?"

"Of course," she said.

The two clamored out of their seats with renewed purpose, and the engineer noticed Archer's hand resting on her lower back guiding her out of the room. His gaze was transfixed on her as she allowed him to make small circular patterns on her back without flinching. His nose momentarily ducked into her hair as if to smell her shampoo before the door slid closed.

Tucker shook his head. It was almost as if they were under the spell of the love potion. The commander grinned to himself glad he wasn't given the elixir.

'Didn't have to be,' he thought, thinking about his night with Larana.

The end.

Authors notes:

Thanks for reading!

And, many thanks to Monica -- the woman with a lot of patience and a heart of gold!!! Who read every single page, some more than once.

Tip of the hat to: Angie and Mel, who introduced the Farscape-like forehead touching thingy, Angelus who had 'erotic neuropressure' in his story [which I stole -- thank you!] and the song "Love Potion #9." [Partly why I had to end it here.]

tami@deathmint.com

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Disclaimers to Star Trek, UPN and Paramount©2003.
Video captures by fabulous Enterprise 8875©2003.
Reviews provided by Monica.