The fog covered San Francisco like a shroud, hiding the heavens and the stars. T'Pol was standing in front of a massive building, but the shadows of night made it indistinguishable from any other she'd seen. A large hand gripped hers as she stared up at the cleft in a man's chin.
"We're here," Jonathan said.
She knitted her brows in confusion, as he let loose a smile and headed for the door. The two stepped immediately into a slow-moving elevator that reminded her of Enterprise's turbo lift as his hands encircled her waist and he kissed the nape of her neck. Lulling into his caresses, her eyes focused on the red plush carpet underneath her feet.
As a sigh escaped her lips, she felt the elevator come to a halt and heard the back of her garment unzip.
"Now?" she asked.
"Why not? You're my wife," he whispered illogically.
"Wife?" she asked.
Trepidation scurried across her mind, irrationally so. Not only did she feel uncomfortable about being married to him, she shied away from such a public display of affection. He motions remained undeterred and he worked the zipper down her back, stroking it on the way down.
"What if someone was watching?" she scolded.
"Who'd be watching? We live here alone."
Afraid, she tried to politely squirm away from him, still sensing someone could watch or wanted to. Suddenly, she felt her garment pushed off her shoulders as she stared at the closed door.
"Jonathan," she warned, mildly.
Gliding in front of her, he slipped his hand beneath her undershirt.
"What?" he panted.
Words formed in her mouth about being rushed, but the motion of his fingers was sensual and distracting. Before she knew it, he'd diverting his lips from her face and neck.
She leaned against the elevator, arching into his lips, when she saw the doors open to reveal her late husband. Trip was wearing a scowl and his hands were at his hips.
"Experimenting again?" he asked.
With embarrassment, she pushed Jon away and tried to work up an explanation about the situation, when her voice failed her. Struggling to say the words she reached out toward the door.
Archer glanced over his shoulder and mentioned nonchalantly, "Sorry, wrong floor."
He reached over and pressed a button, causing the doors to close and the elevator to pick up speed.
"No," she said. "Did you see him? Why didn't you tell me he was here?!"
Without answering her question, his fingers stroked her ears. "Don't be angry. I need you," he said. "I know you need me."
She wasn't just angry … she was livid.
"No," she said with more authority, avoiding him.
Touching her cheek, he said, sweetly, "Trust me."
"Get away from me! They're watching."
He kissed her forehead. "No one is watching."
The doors opened and T'Pol looked into the eyes of her son, glowering at her, his hands fixed at his hips. The boy's stance looked exactly like his father's.
"No," she said.
Saying the words aloud, she woke herself up and looked around the darkened room. She hadn't meditated last night – that would explain her dream, she reasoned. With a shudder, she diverted her eyes to her sleeping companion. Her eyebrow piqued as she realized she hadn't seen Jonathan asleep since he was found in the Aquatic Xindi's ship, beaten almost literally within an inch of his life. That slumber looked still – like death; this one seemed restful and peaceful.
Gazing at him, she remembered his question from last night – would she regret her decision to be with him? It seemed all the ingredients were there: she cared for him a great deal, he was her best friend, she found him attractive and she didn't want him to sleep with the another woman, which last night – before their argument – seemed likely. When she said she thought she was falling in love, she was honest. It certainly wasn't how she and Trip had formed a relationship, which didn't make it better or worse.
Her issue was commitment; she wasn't sure she wanted it from him and wasn't ready to give it. Instead, she wondered if they could occasionally please each other and continue with their friendship. It seemed easier that way. If they become casual lovers, she wouldn't have to worry about falling more deeply in love, betraying Trip, marrying the man or negotiating living arrangements. If they were only friends who recreated occasionally, Lorian would remain mostly unaffected and her relationship with her son wouldn't suffer further. The logic in her conclusion seemed flawless, but she doubted Jonathan would feel the same way. Perhaps he would come around to that way of thinking.
Sensing her stir, he sleepily looked up at he clock – only 0320.
He whispered, hoarsely, "You're not going, are you?"
Even in the darkness, she could see his sad eyes bat innocently.
"I'd like to be home before Lorian is," she said, forcing back the covers.
"You can set my alarm and wake up early." His hand lovingly stroked her back.
That didn't seem unreasonable, though she was already awake now. Leaning up on his elbow he kissed her arm and gently pulled her to him, placing her face on his chest. He stroked her hair for a few minutes and then planted a kiss on her head and closed his eyes, unable to keep them open. As she heard his even breathing, she decided she could afford a few more minutes with him.
'Only a few,' she told herself.
Buzz. Buzz.
His hand groped sleepily for the alarm and gave it a whack when the noise stopped. As his mind defogged, he saw T'Pol napping beside him and heaved a small sigh. Thinking about taking his place, spooned behind her, he grinned ... until he figured out the buzzing wasn't the alarm … it was the doorbell.
'Oh shit!' thought Archer, jumping out of bed, trying not to wake T'Pol. 'The kids.'
Quickly, he threw on some clothes, ran silently around the room scooping up discarded apparel and hoisted them into his arms. He had just enough time to toss them into his room and close the door before he heard Elyssa.
"Daddy!"
She ran into his open arms and hugged his neck as he picked her up.
Hoshi glanced carefully around his room and spied a closed door that probably held T'Pol.
"Sorry, Jon, I had work," said Hoshi.
Wrapping his arms around his daughter he said, "That's okay. Thanks for watching them."
Giving a wry smile, she said, "Anytime." With that, she headed out the door.
Wondering about his officer's comeback, Archer ruffled Henry's hair. The boy provided a lop-sided grin and ducked away from his father.
"You have a good time with Toru and Yoshiko?" Archer asked.
Henry headed to the couch with a PADD, thumbing it, shrugging. "Yeah." Throwing himself down, he kicked his feet up onto the coffee table.
"Mrs. Hayes let us stay up late and eat popcorn and watch movies. And then Yoshi let me play with her dolls. And then …," Elyssa explained. Her little nose wiggled. "You smell funny."
He probably reeked of his activities the night before. Great, something his seven-year old really needed to know.
"Sorry, honey," he said, setting her down. "Henry, put down your game and get ready for school."
The boy moaned with more than the usual zest and picked up a few PADDs, as Elyssa chattered away quietly to really anyone who would listen about all the details of the previous night. What happened next wouldn't have ever occurred to Archer, but was inevitable. The door to his bedroom slid open and T'Pol poked her head out.
"Jonathan …?" she asked. As if frozen, she stayed at the door.
Archer's head spun around and noted, luckily, she was clothed and had returned the room to its previous state … almost as if she'd stopped by for a visit and went into his bedroom.
Elyssa ran toward her with delight, while Henry, knowing a little bit more about life, eyed the woman suspiciously.
"What's she doing here?" Henry asked.
Archer remembered as a boy, Henry had toddled in, as he and Esilia were in the throws of passion. Only after a few minutes and some embarrassing things had been divulged did his wife see the boy, watching on with confusion.
Parental instincts kicked in and the two jumped apart, grabbing the sheets to them.
"Hi, Henry," Esilia said.
His little brow furrowed, much like his father's, as he stared on with bewilderment.
"Whatcha doing?" the boy asked.
Having read a few parenting books, but not enough to be considered an expert, practiced … or even good for that matter, Archer decided the best thing to do was to answer the question honestly and without embarrassment, but definitively so there wouldn't be any further questions.
"Making love. What are you doing up?"
"Thirsty," Henry said. For a moment, he acted as if he were going to crawl into bed with them, as he sometimes did when he had nightmares or wanted attention.
As he moved toward them, Archer's fatherly voice boomed out, "Why don't you go back out and close the door. Your mom and I will be out to tuck you in."
The little boy's lip protruded and he shuffled out as if scolded. Archer timidly scratched his head, as his wife quietly laughed. Raising his eyebrows, he looked at Esilia wondering what in the world was so funny.
"Why are you so shy about it? It's natural. And he's bound to find out. I'm sure he can hear you sometimes … you make a lot of noise," she said with mirth.
He got out of bed and fumbled for his pajamas. "I do not make a lot of noise. Besides, humans don't really find out about … life … until later."
"Ikarrans learn it early on, kind of impossible to avoid," she said, stepping into her nightgown. "Do you mean you've never walked in on your parents or noticed their sexuality?"
He shrugged uncomfortably. "It's just not something you want to think about."
Strike that – it was the kind of thing that would make a person take the nearest shuttle and head straight for a psychologist. And, being a father meant he wanted to protect his children from pretty much everything life had to offer – sometimes even the good things. He wanted his children to stay young and innocent forever.
As the two stepped out of the bedroom, Archer took his son in his arms and kissed him. Wrapping the covers around the tike, he apologized for being so harsh and explained when the door is shut, it's best to knock.
Archer watched Henry now, noticing his brow knitted with confusion and concern.
"We'll talk about it later," Jon said.
He could tell his son wasn't satisfied, but hoped the kid would have the good sense to leave it alone.
Innocently, Elyssa asked, "Did you have a slumber party, too, Daddy?"
The question was so bizarre he couldn't help but guffaw. He did have a slumber party in a way. He'd had his best friend over, gotten very little sleep, spent a lot of time feeling giddy, and the evening was over much sooner than he wanted it to be. Rather than answer, he reasserted himself.
"Get ready for school. We'll talk about it later."
"Lorian said she'd be here," Henry said, darkly.
With a little more authority, Archer restated, "We'll talk about it later."
The boy shot a fiery glare at his dad.
T'Pol hadn't felt like an interloper on Enterprise for many years … until now. She was about to leave when Archer, intercepted her hand with his, and provided a little tough love to his son.
Gruffly, he said, "Later."
Henry reluctantly started preparing as did his little sister who wasn't sure what was happening. The little girl loved T'Pol, mostly because the woman, in many ways, had acted like a mother. Both the Vulcan and Mrs. Hayes had provided the feminine touch that Elyssa needed. T'Pol would do things uncharacteristically Vulcan … like tell her she looked "pretty," while righting her dress and Hoshi would sometimes braid her hair.
"You can stay over any time you want," she said to T'Pol.
Henry rolled his eyes at his sister and the two eventually made it out the door. As it slid shut behind them, Archer placed a hand over his eyes and bowed his head.
T'Pol said, "Undoubtedly the same awaits me at home."
Looking up at her, he gave a smirk and encircled her waist with his arms, he said, "I'm sorry you didn't get home sooner."
Her eyes moved to the other side of the room.
"I should've set the alarm last night," he whispered.
Seeking approval, he tentatively kissed her and silently cheered when she not only kissed him back – she tenderly bit at his lips.
"I know we didn't exactly talk about what happens next …," he said.
She remained silent, resting her forehead against his. "No," she agreed.
"We both have to be on the Bridge in about two hours. Want me to meet you for breakfast or see you for our daily debrief?" he asked.
T'Pol noted he already mentioned that the morning meetings, which had been abandoned, were back. Instead of asking him about it, she decided to keep the conversation focused on a response.
She immediately thought of her son and said, "In our meeting."
He nodded. "When do you think we can see each other again?"
"I thought we decided your Ready Room?" she asked.
His nose darted up her throat as his lips nibbled behind it. "I meant see you again. Talk about us?"
"I don't know."
He let her go and watched her walk out the door. He couldn't help smiling – it wasn't just snuggling against her all night or feeling her attacking him with her lips and fingers – it was itching something that needed to be scratched. And, it wasn't just taking her to bed, although that was great. Being with her, holding her in his arms and talking with her made him feel … complete.
Deciding he needed to begin his day, instead of grinning after the door and thinking about last night, he marched into the bathroom. He didn't like how the morning had unfolded and chided himself for convincing her to stay the night.
If he had his druthers, the morning would've been more leisurely and they would've discussed their relationship – what both of them wanted. They would eventually, he'd reasoned with himself. He just hoped 'eventually' would be soon.
Something nagged at him, like she thinking she wasn't ready to start a relationship. Trip had only been dead a little over two years, which to her probably wasn't a very long time … especially to a Vulcan who lived for two centuries. Five years – the amount of time Esilia had been gone – seemed like forever.
Sighing, he placed his head under the stream of water and thought about his late wife.
The Ikarran's captain, Naryn, took him onto the Bridge. Immediately on entering, Archer noticed a blond-haired woman eye him and then turn back to the helm. As the captain showed him around the main deck, naming off equipment, Archer marveled at it. He was impressed; their technology seemed more advanced than Enterprise's. Some of it would be useful – very useful. It would definitely make sense to secure a trading relationship with these people. As he mused about having additional technology, the captain took him over to the helm.
"You said you are also a pilot?" Naryn asked.
Jon smiled. "Was."
"Once a pilot, always a pilot," the helmsman said.
"Captain Archer, this is Esilia."
Archer smiled when she added, "Captain Archer, would you like to see my controls?"
Naryn nodded, encouraging the small detour.
Jon leaned over her station and reviewed the nozzles and buttons. Everything seemed to be in order – navigational system, drive control …. Lost in the console and the joy of piloting, he suddenly noticed he was by himself with her at her station.
"How long has it been?" she asked.
"Huh?" he asked.
A smile crept across her lips. "How long has it been since you've flown a ship?"
"I don't know … a while."
She stood up and offered him her chair, which he took eagerly, letting his boyish enthusiasm take over.
"Sure you don't mind?" he asked.
"Of course not. Everything look familiar?" she asked, crouching over him.
"So far, so good," he said.
As his fingers hovered over a few buttons, she leaned in further. "Seems like you know your way around."
"Maybe it hasn't been that long."
As he focused back on the controls, her lips moved closer to his ear and she whispered, "You're gorgeous."
With a start, he locked eyes with her – hers were gray and gleamed mischievously at him, causing the wrinkles on his forehead to multiply.
"Pardon me?" he asked.
"See everything you needed to?" she asked, louder.
Archer stood up quickly.
"Uhm, yeah," he said watching the attractive pilot slip back into her chair. As he shook his head about to converse with the captain, he noted some movement from her.
Turning around, she casually mentioned, "Maybe you can meet me for dinner. What time do your people eat?"
"I don't know around 1700 or so," he stammered.
"I'll see you then. When my father takes you on the rest of your tour, he can show you our cafeteria – I'll meet you there."
'Did she just ask me out?' Archer thought. He laughed silently to himself and maneuvered away from the young woman. Father?!
"My daughter is rather impetuous," Naryn explained, escorting Archer out of their bridge. "Independent, emotional, sweet, mischievous, enthusiastic … a handful. She's never listened to me. Twelve children and she's the most rebellious. I thought she'd be married and giving me grandchildren by now."
Archer was silent.
"Do you have any children?" Naryn asked.
"No."
Something in the man's eyes lit up. "Oh, really? Married?"
"No," Archer answered.
"Interesting," responded the man.
Squinting his eyes and giving a slight grunt, he focused on the rest of the ship. He could hardly wait to see Engineering. Traveling at warp 5 seemed slow compared to other ships in the Expanse – even 100 years ago. He knew these people were able to achieve something close to warp 7 and wouldn't mind getting a little of that know-how.
After getting a full tour, Archer joined Esilia in their cafeteria. It was completely deserted and she had changed into a slightly revealing shimmering green dress. Giving a grin, he made mental note of how appealing she looked.
"You look nice," he said.
"Thanks."
Nervously, he glanced around the empty room and then back at her.
"Where'd everyone go?" he asked.
"We eat whenever we're hungry. We don't have set meal times."
Weakly nodding, he sat down.
"I understand you and Father ate later than expected," she said.
"I can stay and sit with you if you're hungry," he mentioned, trying to be courteous.
"I'm not hungry either. Did Father show you the hydroponics lab? The flowers there are lovely."
"Yes," said Archer. "But, I could see it again."
"Then, maybe we can go back to my room and I can pick up a shawl?"
"Sure," he said.
As the two walked, she asked, "How many people are on your ship?"
"Eighty," he said, counting all the births and additional crewmen.
"You seem lonely for 80 people."
He stopped in his tracks. Thus far, she seemed to be one of the most forward women he'd ever met, but her comments didn't appear lurid or unseemly. She made the statement as if it were fact. And truth be told, she was right – he was lonely.
"Sometimes," he admitted, heading down the corridor with her again.
She took his arm and strolled into her room. With a flick of the switch, the room became only slightly illuminated. To Archer, it seemed dark and cramped – the only things in the cabin were a small loveseat, a night table and a bed, not including the artwork on the walls. There was so hardly any room to move around.
"Your dad said you had nearly 200 people onboard," he said. "Your ship is only a little larger than Enterprise."
"Ikarrans like large families … and I guess we don't mind small spaces," she said, smiling. "Can you believe this room would normally fit a couple and maybe their child?"
He gave a light snort. "No."
She laughed. "Would you like a drink?"
"Sure," he said.
As she turned to a small night table, he studied the artwork around the cabin.
"From your planet?" he said, motioning at the paintings.
"Yes."
"They're all of space. Is that typical for paintings from Ikarr?"
"No, I've always been interested in astronomy. When I was a girl, my father used to take me camping so we could watch the stars in the night sky. I knew the names of the constellations probably before I knew how to write or read. Space has always fascinated me. It's so tranquil …."
Smiling, he said, "I know what you mean."
She handed him a glass of alcohol and sat down. Joining her on the couch, he took a sip. As the glass touched his lips she whispered, "You're the most beautiful man I've ever met."
Archer put down the glass and looked earnestly at her.
She said, "I'm not usually this forward, but I feel if I don't act now, you'll be gone. I know your ship is scheduled to leave tomorrow. And … I don't really want to see the hydroponics lab. I'd rather be with you."
"Esilia, I don't really know you. I mean, I'm flattered and surprised, but …."
"You're not attracted to me?" she asked.
"I think you're lovely," he said. The words caused a smile to spread across her lips.
Her eyes batted at him waiting for an answer. What was the problem? The woman seemed to be the human equivalent of 32-years old and was stunning. The ridge running down her nose was unusual, but … cute. And he couldn't remember when he had a woman in short-term or long-term memory throw herself at him, claiming he was gorgeous or beautiful. He was unattached and they seemed to have at least a few things in common. The way her father had acted, he seemed overjoyed that he and his daughter had arranged a date. So, what was holding him back?
The tip of her nose nuzzled his neck, teasingly and immediately he felt ticklish. Rather than giggle, he let her continue.
"You need to be loved," she said.
"You don't even know me," he whispered.
"What else should I know about you besides you're handsome, good and driven?"
"I'm not good," he said, bleakly.
She stopped nibbling his neck and stared at him.
"No, you seem very kind … very honorable. Your eyes seem full of regret, like you've done things you didn't want to."
He looked away.
"You can't feel guilty forever. Even if you've made mistakes, you should forgive yourself. Everyone deserves to be happy … to be cared for. You certainly do," she said.
Looking back at her and gazing into her eyes, he knew she meant every word she said. And she was more than just lovely -- she had fair skin, rosy cheeks, a heart-shaped face, large gray eyes and springy ringlets of gold hair that dipped down her back and shoulders. Esilia was tall and slender – not petite, but with an athletic build.
Watching his eyes, she placed her mouth on his palm.
"Besides, if you weren't a good man, you wouldn't look so tortured."
Before he could think, his lips took hers. Maybe he'd been waiting and wanting to hear those words for the past few years. Stealing a warp coil, cloning Trip, letting down Earth … these deeds had long past and were well out of reach, but were difficult to bear. They weighed on him.
In a way, he'd been seeking absolution from someone, but doubted he would ever receive it from his crew. They'd paid a price. He owed a lot of people apologies -- Phlox, Trip, Malcolm … all of Earth …. He was sorry for T'Pol as well – she'd given up everything to be with them and had undergone so much. Maybe he wanted to be forgiven by her most of all, but he never would mostly because he would never ask. If he did, his lips would tumble onto hers and he'd greedily take her into his arms. And, that could simply never happen.
Slipping his shirt off, she playfully asked where his heart was and placed her mouth on it. The gesture was sweet, like she was forgiving him, and sensual; it felt good to have her lips pressed against his flesh.
With a deep sigh, his fingers splayed open and felt the long tendrils of her flaxen hair.
"I love your chest hair," she whispered.
He gave a purring laugh, trying to recall if anyone had ever told him that before.
"You have a wonderful laugh. You should laugh more often," she said.
Although this was a woman he barely knew, his spirit rejoiced. Years of guilt and layers of sin washed away. She made him feel good, in a way he hadn't experienced in years. Her lips continued to caress, blessing his cheeks, forehead, chin, eyes, ears and mouth.
Redemption.
Before long, the two were wrapped in each other's arms in her bed underneath the covers. A genuine smile, spread across his lips as she brushed her nose against his.
Naughtily, she said, "I knew you were good."
"You're not seeing anyone, are you?" The words fell out of his mouth before he could think about them, but the question felt natural.
"No. I thought your ship was leaving."
With disappointment, he nodded.
"We have time still," she whispered, snuggling into his arms.
With that, she began telling tales of what the Ikarran ship had encountered in he expanse as he listened on, twirling a lock of her hair around his finger. He'd known almost right away he was falling in love with her. In a way, she'd saved him. When he was with her, he felt like he did before they'd entered the expanse, as if the things he'd done hadn't happened. Maybe it was because she wasn't there to witness them or experience their impact like his crew had. Worries, concerns and problems melted away as she spoke with animation about star clusters, planets and moons.
As he stepped out of the shower, he wondered how he'd ended up with such a free-spirited woman – someone who so effusive, emotional, caring, loving and giving. Maybe he was just too damned lucky. Thinking about her qualities, he noted they'd already come to life in his daughter. But, his son had his own temperament – a little moody, sometimes a little sullen and definitely driven.
Esilia was T'Pol's polar opposite. The Vulcan would never be accused of being effusive, unless it was toward his daughter, and she definitely wasn't emotional or loving … at least not in a way most people would notice. He knew the truth; he understood the way she cared about the crew was very loving and tender. Emotion stirred deep within her and he'd witnessed it on rare occasion, especially during her Trellium withdrawal.
How could he love two women who were so different? Shirking off the thought, he mused to himself he just wasn't logical.
'I'm not logical. Funny that I'm in love with a Vulcan," he thought.
He'd long since gotten over being prejudice and distrustful. After working with her for a few months, he began to rely on her more than anyone else … so much so that he'd worked to keep her aboard, even when it didn't make sense to do so. Actually, it always made sense – he wanted her to always be by his side. The two always had a bond, ever since he could remember, and sleeping with her just confirmed that.
In his heart, he knew T'Pol needed and wanted him. It may take a while for her to come to that same conclusion, but she would.
'Eventually,' he reminded himself.
Good thing they had nothing but time.
TBC