Nothing but Time
Part 5: It Wasn't Just a Dream
Chapter 12
After succumbing to the Rigellian virus, Archer's immune system was weakened. Ignoring the doctor's suggestion – and that's what he took it as – of getting a few more days of rest, Archer returned to work the morning after being released from Sickbay. He was a little worn out and slightly breathless, but eager to get back to ship's business.
As he stepped onto the Bridge, T'Pol looked up at the turbolift with a slightly raised eyebrow.
"I didn't expect you back so soon," she commented.
He gave a small smile as the rest of the Bridge crew welcomed him. He was about to take his place in his chair, when T'Pol eyed the Ready Room, giving him a silent signal the two needed to talk.
After entering the sanctity of his office, T'Pol watched him sink weakly into his chair.
"Are you feeling well enough to be here?" she asked.
He gave a nod. "Yeah. I'll take it easy. Anything happen while I was away?"
His pallor was off – instead of his usual light tan, he looked drawn and pale. He'd lost a fair amount of weight in Sickbay; after their fever had broken – the humans had a difficult time holding down food. In fact, his appearance reminded her of when they entered the Expanse – gaunt and hollow.
Though concerned, she'd made up her mind that she'd end the conversation quickly and get back to work. Seeing how frail he was made her nervous, as if she would accidentally reach out to caress his cheek or stroke his hair.
Forcing the emotion back, she nodded and gave a shortened version of the events in the last few days.
"Everything else okay?" he asked, noticing she was acting more rigid than usual.
"Yes," she answered quickly. "If you'll excuse me, I need to get back to my station."
With that, she left. In a way, he was disappointed. She normally stayed to chat a bit and then finally left at a lull in the conversation. He was especially discouraged because he hadn't seen her in a while; he thought the two had personal catching up to do, especially since Elyssa described how wonderful it was to be with the Vulcan while he was ill and Henry bragged how he and Lorian were building a new motor for his remote control ship.
With a mild laugh, the captain dismissed the notion thinking he was overreacting. Instead he shook his head and focused on his monitor wondering what work had stacked up while he'd been gone.
He leaned back in his chair and recalled a vivid dream he'd had while in Sickbay – something that haunted him.
During his fever, he imagined himself lying on a bed, looking up at her. She seemed intent on peeling his clothes off – agonizingly slowly as if to tease him. In his mind, he was whispering her name over and over as her hand stroked the hair on his chest and stomach when she pulled his shirt off. Her little fingers worked at the button and zipper on his pants as he sluggishly took her hand to his lips and pressed his mouth against her palm. As he was about to pull her into bed and end this torture, his mind wandered to being immersed in a tub, seated behind her, barely able to fit in the container together. Unlike most bubble baths, the suds clung to water without dissolving. The bathroom was dimly lit and her scent was all around him. A tinny Jazz singer crooned in the background, and T'Pol's voice almost hummed along to the song playing.
Slowly she turned her head over her shoulder. "You haven't finished."
He pulled her to him, picked up a pink washcloth and touched it to her spine. In small circles he rubbed the soft material against her neck, her back and her ears, and then dipped the cloth into the water to rinse her off. As the water dove over her shoulders, sending the bubbles down her back, he sighed.
"I love you," he whispered. His hand traveled underneath her damp hair, lifting it and he leaned over to kiss the spot where her head and neck met.
Not hearing anything from her, he halted his movements and decided to say it a little louder. "T'Pol, I love you."
Splashing her toes in the water, she answered, sweetly, "I heard you."
He wiggled his finger down her spine, unable to stop touching her, he said. "Aren't you going to say it back?"
"Why would I?" she asked, seductively as if she were playing a game.
"You said it to Trip," he mentioned.
"Yes," she acknowledged.
"I need to hear you love me." His mouth hovered over her ear. "I want to hear it."
"Why is it important?" she asked. "You know how I feel."
"Come on, don't tease me. Say it."
"No," she said.
Giving a mischievous growl, he drew her closer to him. "Yes."
Allowing a hint of a smile to cross her lips and nuzzling into him, she whispered, "Maybe I'll show you."
"Maybe?"
"Possibly," she agreed.
Her eyes focused on him and her eyebrow twitched into a sharp peak. Giving a purring laugh, he looked at his fingers. They were beginning to prune and the water was a little chilly.
"Can I have some hot water?" he asked, placing his head on her shoulder, looking at her copper-colored toes poking out of the bubbles.
"What?" she asked.
He motioned to the faucet and asked again. "Water."
Instead of turning on the tap and filling the tub with warmth, he suddenly envisioned her out of the tub and fully dressed. He felt even colder with her gone and shivered. She leaned over as if to kiss him and quickly put a glass to his mouth. She did so with such loving care, he couldn't turn it away. Taking large gulps he thought maybe he'd ask for more, next time he'd divert the glass and place his mouth on hers.
"More?" he asked.
Instead of capturing her lips, he felt the cup clink against his teeth. If he weren't so tired he would've struggled to take the glass out of his mouth and bring her back into the bath. But, he was too exhausted and his body ached.
Strangely, she stared at him with a hint of … desire in her eyes.
Hoping to match her intensity, he stared back. As the cup slipped away from his mouth he thought about playing their game again, asking if she'd tell him she loved him. But his eyes were too heavy and he closed them again, falling into what he assumed was a deeper sleep.
Archer thought back on this moment. It was a sexy dream, he definitely felt aroused just thinking about it. He also wondered if the point of his fantasy was a wake up call: T'Pol didn't love him. He couldn't continue to pine for her. She made that clear months ago, and he was foolish for holding out hope.
He leaned over his desk and took a labored breath and began to work.
Chapter 13
The next few weeks flowed like clockwork – Jon and T'Pol had an abbreviated morning meeting and she acted as if she couldn't wait to get back to her terminal. In point of fact, she acted like she couldn't wait to get away from him.
In truth, distancing herself seemed the logical course of action. Her own reactions startled and frightened her. Watching him recover was painful; at first, Archer was easily winded and she had resisted the urge to rush to his side to assist him. By the second week, his spirits dropped – she guessed the inevitable decline of their friendship – but noticed his body was recovering. He was gaining weight and began a light work out regiment. Her need to care for him diminished and her desire returned. And when week three rolled around, she felt her willpower wane. Although he wasn't on the Bridge as much, when he was, she'd watch him contently from her seat, letting her eyes peruse his profile. Fortunately, she was able to divert them quickly, before he or anyone else would ever know she was staring at him. Gawking.
From Archer's perspective, he knew she was backing away, even though she denied it. Every time to tried to talk about anything personal, like Lorian, she deflected him. He'd traced her attitude back a turning point: his illness. Something happened that day. Perhaps she didn't want to take care of him and felt saddled with that responsibility. Maybe she was just embarrassed at his behavior … whatever that was. His dream was the only thing he remembered until apparently being injected with the antidote. With some amount of trepidation, he wondered if she was having a hard time looking at him because she'd seen him naked. She seemed comfortable with her body, maybe it was just seeing a humans … maybe someone other than Trip's.
That thought produced a frown.
After the third week of getting the cold shoulder from her, he decided to give it back and quit their morning meetings. He didn't have to get her verbal retelling of anything that happened, instead he relied on her reports, which were efficient, and tried to enjoy the solitude of his Ready Room.
Two days after that, he stopped spending much time on the Bridge.
Watching Archer walk onto the Bridge, grumble "morning" and stalk off to his room, Hoshi frowned.
The environment between the two was becoming unbearable, and the communications officer decided to bring it up in the idle chatter that took place during the course of a day.
"Something seems to be bugging him," she said.
Travis agreed, "No kidding."
"Do you know what's up, T'Pol?" Hoshi asked, knowing it involved her.
"No," she stated, peering into her scanner.
"Maybe you should talk with him," Hoshi said. "He listens to you."
"I might if it becomes a problem," T'Pol said.
Travis shot the communications officer a glance, knowing what the woman was up to as she shrugged. Suddenly her comm beeped and she looked up.
"A ship is hailing us."
T'Pol raised her eyebrows, hoping they wanted to trade and had injector casings.
Hoshi said, "No visual or audio, just text." Swiping her fingers across her console she read, "We represent the Dallans and are on a peaceful mission, trading with ships in the vicinity. Interested in trade?"
T'Pol said, "I think you know to reply."
Hoshi smiled and said, "I wonder if they'll know what 'hell yes' means?" Before the Vulcan could correct her, she clarified, "I wrote, 'We might be interested. Stand down all weapons.'"
"Very good."
Chapter 14
Archer tapped his foot waiting to meet the docked ship. They hadn't had any visual contact – the ship's communication method was more primitive. That's good, at least it would give them something of value to trade. These days there was, in his opinion, nothing of interest.
As the door slid open for their guest, Archer was surprised to see a female captain. Most societies, even in the Expanse, were patriarchal. At seeing him, she immediately smiled, lighting up her tan face. Watching her grin made his mouth slope up, too.
"I didn't expect a woman," he said. The words escaped his lips before he could suck them back in and be more diplomatic.
"That's okay, I didn't expect a good-looking man to greet me," said the woman.
His smile widened. "Jonathan Archer," he said, extending his hand.
"Rema," she said looking at his hand and then deciding to take it.
She was way too beautiful and young for him, at least he thought so -- around 35-years old, slender figure, long brown hair that hung in ringlets around her face and iridescent, blue eyes. Rema was only abstractly alien -- her tan face under the low lighting of Enterprise looked almost orange – but definitely exotic. And he liked that.
Realizing he'd let his hand shake hers a little too long, he dropped it with discomfiture.
'Good looking?' he thought. It'd been a long time since anyone called him that.
Something gallant in him offered her and arm and took her on a tour. The two visited every part of the ship, talked and laughed. The woman put her face against his arm a few times – a sure sign of interest – at least in his culture. Unfortunately, he wasn't sure whether this was a sign of interest in hers.
As the she unwrapped her hands around his bicep, the two stepped into the Mess Hall and then the Captain's Mess where T'Pol was patiently waiting. On seeing Rema, she raised an eyebrow.
"I did not understand you to be female," she noted.
The woman gave a wry smile and said, "Well, it happens."
Archer seemed to chuckle much louder and longer than he should've, pulled the seat out for her and then sat down himself. T'Pol furrowed her brows and sat down, noting that Jonathan … the captain nearly always pushed in her seat.
"Sorry," he said. "We haven't had this many … interesting … visitors in a long time," he noted. His eyes perused her nubile body as he wondered whether she'd be interested in him. It'd been so damned long.
"I feel the same way," she cooed.
His eyes locked with hers and the two stared at each other for a moment.
"I hope we eat soon. I'm starving. And when I'm hungry, I end up nibbling on whatever's around," she said.
Her suggestive banter made him blush, but not give in. "I can't tell you how many times someone almost snacked on me," he quipped.
"I bet," she said.
T'Pol watched the two chat back and forth, flirting. During dinner, she watched Archer shyly gaze at Rema and the woman beam – like they were trying to capture the other's attention. In fact, Archer was giving the woman something T'Pol hadn't seen from him in a while – charm. Really the only people he charmed … or tried to … on a regular basis were his children and the crew. Tonight, he was what Trip would call "on" – telling stories and watching the female captain through half-lidded eyes.
"T'Pol, is he always this charismatic?" asked Rema.
"Not particularly," she said.
Noticing Archer scowl at the comment, she decided to divert the discussion back to why they were having dinner.
"We're interested in your injector casings …," T'Pol said.
"We could assist you in upgrading your communications, if you're so inclined," Archer noted.
Rema laughed, "My people prefer text communications – they're less intrusive. Anything else?"
T'Pol and Archer exchanged a slightly defeated look.
"We have some highly acclaimed reading material that …," T'Pol suggested.
Rema shook her head. "You can't be serious. Reading material?"
"We have a wide variety – poetry, plays … comedies and dramas," T'Pol explained.
"Injector casings cost 2000 kranars where I come from." After watching confusion cloud the Vulcan's face, she clarified the statement. "That's not cheap."
"Surely there's something you want," Archer said. "We have a lot to offer." Rostov would kill him if he came back empty handed again.
"Tell me what you have," Rema said.
He pointed to the PADD T'Pol had given her before they started dinner. "Anything on that list. We could also provide engineering assistance …."
Scrolling through it, she scowled. "You're desperate aren't you?"
"That obvious?" he asked.
T'Pol eyed the captain. This wasn't Archer's typical negotiation tactic, but decided to let the statement stand without comment.
Rema grinned. "I like you. I also like charity cases. You've got a deal. We'll trade you injector casings for reading material. But, I hope this literature is interesting."
With sincerity, he said, "Thank you. I'll have my crewmen work on it first thing tomorrow … and there's anything else we can do."
"You could let me show you around my ship. I think I have a few things that might interest you."
Although it'd been a while, it sounded like quite an invitation. It wasn't so much her asking him to stop by, it was her foot rubbing against his right calf as she said it that clarified her intention.
T'Pol's eyes widened at the suggestion, and the explicit nature of it wasn't lost on her. She darted her eyes back and forth between both captains.
"I'd love to," he said. "I have to take care of a few things first."
"Of course," she responded. "Call before you come."
"Always do," he said.
His pulse quickened as he stood while she inched toward the door and headed back to her ship. Looking down at the ground, he smiled to himself timidly. As the door slid closed, leaving T'Pol and Archer alone in the Captain's Mess, the Vulcan gave a slight, but perceptible frown.
"You're embarrassing yourself," T'Pol said.
Wiping the grin off his face, he asked, "Huh?"
"I said, 'You're embarrassing yourself.'"
He rolled his eyes.
"You're obviously attracted to her."
It'd been five years since he'd been with a woman; it was difficult under those circumstances not to be at least intrigued by her. What made her irresistible was her interest in him. The lull of her voice, the suggestive tone it took and her eyes – they all indicated she wanted him. And feeling handsome felt good. She was also beautiful and intelligent. Yeah, he was attracted to her.
He gave a smirk. "I guess I am."
"She also seems interested in you."
His smiled widened. "You think so?"
"You seem almost gleeful about that information."
"I don't feel too badly about it, no," he teased. On the contrary, he felt potent.
"Typical," she said.
"What?"
"Men. This is typical of their behavior," she started. "Unfortunately, she looks half your age."
Disgusted, he made his way out of the Mess Hall and stalked down the hall as quickly as he could. Her tiny stride raced to keep up with him and hearing her a few paces behind, he continued their conversation.
"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, gruffly, increasing his speed.
"I think perhaps you'd do better with someone approximately your age."
A shadow of anger darkened his face and he stopped abruptly. "I'm not that old. Besides, you were easily twice Trip's age when you got married."
Halting as well, she folded her arms. "That was different."
"How?"
"My species lives for nearly 200 years."
"What if her species only lives until they're 80. Does that make it better?"
She haughtily peaked her eyebrow. "You are missing the point."
"I'm not sure what the point is."
"It seems you're interested in the first female to cross the threshold of this ship in years."
"I don't think that's very fair …."
"You invited her aboard to discuss supplies," she commented.
"And we did."
"You're more interested in satisfying your hormones than taking care of the crew and this ship."
"Now, wait a second …."
"I know it's undoubtedly been a while, but …."
He interrupted, "Been awhile?! That's none of your damned business."
She continued, "But, I would think at your age, you wouldn't be so … anxious."
"I'm not some pubescent boy looking to …." He stopped short of saying the first few words that came to mind. "I think she's attractive, she seems interested in me. I don't see where you have a problem, especially since this is my life!"
"Your first duty is to the ship, not your libido."
"Listen, Sub-commander, we're getting the supplies we needed. What I do with my personal time is my business. I thought a friend might understand that. I thought I'd get a little support from you!"
"Support?"
"Yes!"
"I think it's pathetic," she said. She straightened her spine, watching every movement of his with care.
"You think I'm pathetic?" he asked, angrily.
"Yes.'"
"You know what I think? I think you're jealous."
"Jealous? Hardly."
"Everything seemed to be pretty safe. You never had to worry about me falling for another woman because there were none!"
She remained silent, but gave a Vulcanly glower at him.
"It's pointless! So, stop being so damned selfish and let me have my life back!"
"You're making a mistake."
"Fine! It's mine to make!"
He turned to walk away with her hand gripped his arm. "Don't."
Shirking her touch, he yelled, "Why would you deny me happiness, T'Pol, especially when you made it clear you didn't want me?!"
"I do," she said, quietly.
"What?!" he asked, staring at her as if he didn't hear the words drifting out of her mouth.
Glancing down the hall and then taking a deep breath, she looked up. "I said, I do. I do … want you."
He blinked quickly.
A shaking hand nervously edged toward his face, and stroked his cheek. The touch itself made her afraid and relieved. Standing on tiptoe, she kissed him.
Caught completely off-guard, it took him a second to respond – mostly having her nip at his lips made him dizzy. Her mouth was larger and cooler than he dreamed it would be, but her lips were supple and juicy like he'd envisioned for so long. As his mouth responded, hers sought his more eagerly. And being angry and whipped into a frenzy only intensified the excitement and urgency between them. Despite being in the hall, he leaned into her and panted every time their mouths touched.
As in a daze, he rested his palms against the wall and continued to loom over her parting her mouth with his tongue. Before long his mouth and tongue found their way to her neck and tip of her ear, which he'd been dying to nibble for nearly twenty years.
"I don't think we should do this in the corridor," she whispered.
He lamely nodded, trying to swallow and quiet his heart, which rumbled in his chest.
"Elyssa and Henry are with Hoshi?"
The two locked eyes and he understood the question was more seductive; she was suggesting she wanted to be with him.
"They're scheduled to come home around 2200 hours."
"It's 2000 hours now. Maybe we can contact them when we reach your cabin."
He stroked her cheek, giving a lop-sided grin and pressed his lips against her ear to nibble on it and whisper to her. "Are you sure you want to do that?"
"Let's go to your quarters," she re-affirmed.
Chapter 15
As the two wandered back to his quarters he decided to let his hand wrap around hers, showing interest and care. He barely noticed her fingers playing with his as they made their way to his room, but something about the gesture made him lightheaded.
The two had barely slipped into his quarters when their lips began attacking each other's again. Seemingly, she gave him permission to expand his lust, and he reached a tentative hand on her hip, holding it there waiting for her to push him away. When she didn't, he decided to revel in the feeling of her slender, bony hips. He gripped then to him, smothering her body with his as he pushed her gently against the wall. As the fabric gathered in his hands she gasped, which encouraged him to move to her waist.
Breaking his hold, she said, "Let me contact Hoshi."
She strolled over to the comm and began to speak into it, as she felt his tentative fingers unzip the back of her garment.
"Hoshi," she began, trembling under his touch.
"T'Pol?" asked the communications officer.
"I was wondering if perhaps I could ask Lorian to stay with you for a while longer."
Archer in the meantime began to splay open the unzipped material of her outfit – showing off her back and shoulders. His fingertip gently stroked her spine as she squirmed slightly underneath it. Warm lips hovered over her neck as he curled his fingers around her right hip and brought her flush against him. Feeling her give into him, his lips detoured and kissed the back of her neck, then dipped down between her shoulder blades. Staggering slightly she remained intent on ending the conversation quickly.
Quietly, Hoshi asked, "Do we want me to keep him all night?"
"That would be preferable. And Elyssa and Henry?"
"Uhm, sure."
T'Pol was certain Hoshi got a pretty good idea what was going on; fortunately she was discreet.
"Thank you."
Determined to playfully distract her, he slipped her garment off her shoulders, kissing them as he did so.
"You're shoulders are just as beautiful as I imagined," he whispered against her neck, wiggling his finger up her spine.
"T'Pol out," she said into the comm. She wasn't worried about Hoshi overhearing his comment, it was too quiet to be heard by anyone except her, and even she had to strain her Vulcan hearing.
Turning to him she said, "The captain?"
Shaking away some of his lust, Archer sat down at his console and typed up a message, explaining he wouldn't be able to meet her. He was slightly worried the injector casings wouldn't be delivered, but decided he could talk his way into them tomorrow. As his fingers worked over his keyboard to send the text, T'Pol kissed his neck, distracting him.
The two lunged toward each other again, letting their lips wander. Their hands and fingers became a flurry of activity – busily discarding the other's clothing. Leaving a trail of apparel behind them, they anxiously worked their way toward his bedroom.
Nearly naked, he dragged her into his freshly made bed. He laid her back onto his pillow where he'd spent nights thinking about her. Instead of rushing the moment, his lips slowly enveloped hers again and his eyes locked with hers.
Waiting before removing his undergarments, he asked, "This isn't going to be something you regret tomorrow, is it?"
"No," she said, brushing a lock of his hair from his forehead.
He whispered, "I love you."
Her teeth tenderly bit at his neck. "Show me."
He thought about his dream, wondering if this was just desire to have something because … maybe it'd been a while for her, too.
As if reading his mind, she whispered, "What's troubling you?"
Barely finding his voice, he asked, "I … I had a dream when I was in Sickbay that you wouldn't tell me your feelings for me."
"It's difficult for Vulcans."
"I know."
She thought of how Trip would tease the emotion out of her. Jonathan's way was to quietly admit his darkest fears and seek acceptance. Taking his index and middle fingers, she ran them against hers.
"I've been trying to determine the extent of my feelings for you for months. I've found you to be my friend, my support and … someone I find handsome. I've been watching you on the Bridge, thinking about you. I've been afraid to be with you, thinking we would end up here. I don't exactly know what these feelings are, but they feel more complex and confusing than merely friendship."
He closed his eyes and enjoyed the feel of her fingers on his for a moment.
"When I said I wanted you, I meant it. I want all of you – your friendship, compassion, strength and intellect. I want the furrows in your brow to ease and I want to feel you smile against my lips. Maybe this is what it feels like to fall in love." The ending sounded like a question, waiting for confirmation.
"Close enough," he whispered, covering her lips and body with his.
Taking off the rest of their clothing, the two fell into bliss.
TBC