Author's notes: Thanks for reading this and keeping an open mind everyone! Special shout out to Zane, who suggested some great ideas (some of which you see in this story). Thanks also to Mana, who's been an incredible editor.
Nothing but Time
Follow Your Heart
Chapter 17
When T'Pol arrived at her quarters, Lorian had already left for school. In her mind, that didn't bode well. The dull ache behind her eyes had been promoted to a throb, which was worsening by the second. Deciding to immediately alleviate it, she strolled out of her cabin and headed to Sickbay.
As she walked in, she noted one of Phlox's children, Zeke, running around the medical facility as the doctor tried to get the boy under control. On seeing the Vulcan, the three-year old stopped and wiped his saliva-covered hands on her pant leg as she raised a single eyebrow high against her forehead.
"Hello!" the boy chirped.
"I think he likes you," Phlox said.
The eyebrow twitched. Under different circumstances she would pet the boy's head, but because of her damp kneecap and headache, she was mildly annoyed.
"Amanda is in on duty for daycare today, isn't she?" T'Pol asked.
"Yes, but Zeke wanted to be with me." As the Vulcan gave a near frown, he said, "I guess we indulge the children … sometimes … too much."
The prideful grin on Phlox's face was difficult to miss. Truly, the scene was rather touching – her mentor, and that's what she'd always considered the doctor, was extraordinary with children. Every toddler or teenager enjoyed the man's company. Remembering his gentle interaction with Sim when the clone was young, cradling the infant in his arms and cooing to him – she softened.
Like all of Phlox's children, the little boy had ridges covering his chin and the sides of his temples. All of them had dark curly hair and strange blue eyes. And, each one was bubbly, curious and unabashed … like all Denobulans. In addition, they had a few human characteristics – a less severe smile, independence that bordered on foolhardiness and each one was easily amused. In general, perhaps the children had the worst … and best qualities … of both species.
She was fond of his children … all five of them.
"Children should occasionally be indulged," she agreed, giving Zeke a pat on the head.
The doctor raised his brows and gave her a grotesque grin, as Zeke continued to stare out in wide-eyed wonder.
"What brings you in here?" Phlox asked.
"I have a headache," she said. At the doctor's interest, she clarified, "A mild one."
"Oh?" The Denobulan reached for his scanner and waved it over the patient. "Hmmm. I don't recall you having one since you entered the expanse. I think you said yourself, Vulcans don't really get headaches."
Quickly she corrected him. "My head hurts nonetheless."
Nodding, he dawdled to his the counter that held all the ship's pharmaceuticals and glanced around half-heartedly for an analgesic. He knew that the Vulcan rarely suffered from medical ailments, and when she did it was frequently because she was secretly seeking advice.
"Were you and Captain Archer able to secure the supplies you needed?" Phlox asked.
"Yes. The meeting went … well in the end."
Her response was interesting, but he decided her annoyance wasn't about the supplies, so he fished further.
"Excellent! I'm sure Michael will be happy to hear that," he said. "He indicated to me these casings were vital."
"That is true."
"I know Captain Archer and you have complained many times that there is little to trade. What was the agreement?"
"They exchanged the casings for reading material."
"Reading material?" He jerked his shoulders back and explained, "I'm only a doctor, but that hardly seems equitable."
"Your assessment is essentially correct."
"Any idea why she did so?" he asked, turning to look over his shoulder. He could see her mouth twitch ever so slightly and her eyes shift, as if he was on the trail of the problem, whatever it was.
"I believe their captain was … smitten … with Jonathan."
Oh, this was getting good. "Hmmmm …. Well, it's about time something like this happened."
"Have you located the analgesic?" she asked, crossing her arms.
Phlox, who'd spied the antidote long ago, reached for the canister and inserted it into the hypospray, clicking it into place. Without doubt, he recognized she was becoming irritated.
"Ah, here it is! My apologies. I've been so busy with inoculations and what not – haven't had enough time to organize," he said, walking toward her. "Maybe I should ask Zara to do so."
He began waddling toward her and asked, "Is the captain equally … smitten with her?"
"No," she responded a little too quickly, watching the doctor stop in front of her.
"No?" he asked, innocently, teasingly the hypospray back to his body.
"Doctor?" she asked, looking at the medicine she was being denied.
"Oh, right," he said, smiling. He tapped the hypospray against her neck. "It's curious that a single man … who … well … it's curious that he wouldn't be interested. I have it on good authority she's quite attractive."
"Malcolm?" she asked.
"Amongst others," he said, raising his eyebrows as the Vulcan squirmed a little.
"She was attractive, but perhaps too young for him," she said.
Hmmmm. "Well, it's to our advantage." Letting a few beats pass and just as she'd decided to walk out, he asked, "While you're here, I'd like to get some advice about Zeke here."
She turned on her heel and looked over the boy – his strange eyes gleaming up at her.
"Zeke has too much energy. Amanda and I chase this one around all day, and he never gets tired. Have any ideas? Lorian has never been rambunctious," he asserted.
"Undoubtedly, it's Zeke's human side," she commented.
Phlox jerked his body. "Yes, I suppose it is."
Deflating her comment, she added, "However, even Lorian runs in the hall occasionally with … vigor."
"How is Lorian doing, by the way? I don't see him much these days."
"Well. Although …."
She crossed her arms again and began staring at the ground; her wheels spinning on her evening last night and hypothesizing on her child's reaction. In other words – Phlox hit pay dirt. The doctor's eyes batted innocently, waiting for her to reveal the clandestine information.
She divulged, "Although, it's difficult to tell. I know so little about human emotions."
"I'm sure he's … going through a phase," he said. Giving a small snort he continued, "That's usually what Amanda says about the children when they seem unhappy or act peculiar."
T'Pol thought, "Trip used to say that, too."
Phlox said, "It's usually sparked by something. I remember when Xan refused to eat his vegetables. Unbeknownst to us – he decided since all plants were alive, they must be intelligent and therefore didn't want to be eaten. For three weeks Amanda and I tried to convince him otherwise. Zara finally bet him she could eat more vegetables. Xan began eating them right away."
"Zara has always been intelligent."
Phlox smiled. The concern knitted between T'Pol's eyebrows wasn't gone. Phlox asked, "Zeke, why don't you find your mother?"
The boy gave a slight pout, screwing up his face as a Denobulan might, but sticking at his lower lip as a human would. He headed out the door with his little head hanging against his chest.
"Anything unusual occur lately to cause Lorian to act strangely?" Phlox asked.
She was always … almost always … 100% truthful with the doctor. After the captain, he was the man she leaned on most and confided in. Taking a steady breath, she said, "He misses his father."
"That's understandable."
"He … has … also discovered how Jonathan feels about me," she said, staring at the microscope across the room.
Phlox had mused for some time things between them would eventually culminate to this moment. He'd realized Archer was in love with her four years ago … and gathered he'd felt more deeply about her then than before -- in the expanse or when Phlox himself convinced the captain he was confused by his attraction for the Vulcan more than fifteen years ago.
Phlox thought back on the moment he knew Jon was in love with her.
The Vulcan's eyes were closed and her breathing was labored, just as they had been for the past three days – ever since the away team returned from Nefrat. Within hours of reaching the ship, she slipped her eyes shut and entered a Vulcan healing trance while her body fought off damage to her nervous system. T'Pol had contracted Nefratic fever … something deadly to her species.
Although the Denobulan had experience with these healing trances, he had typically seen Vulcans enter light spells to repair their bodies. T'Pol's was coma-like – sending her vital statistics plummeting – frighteningly so. Phlox hoped she'd wake up, but couldn't guarantee it with any certainty.
Trip played a strange balance between a scared, caring spouse and a reassuring and loving father to Lorian. He was at her side as much as possible without disturbing their son or making him think everything wouldn't turn out okay. And although the man was afraid, he put on a brave face when explaining T'Pol's condition to Lorian; he was honest with the boy … well, optimistic maybe more than honest.
The captain wasn't any better. He came by in the morning before heading to the Bridge, in the mid-morning, around lunch, in the mid-afternoon and spent a few hours with her at night, long enough for Trip to get a decent meal, spend some time with Lorian and grab a nap.
Watching the captain, the doctor noticed he always begrudgingly left. As Trip took his place at her side, he retreated into the background, shuffling back to his room and his life, as if this one with T'Pol was merely suspended. Phlox had continued to notice this interaction, but had dismissed it as friendship. Indeed, he'd believed that the captain and T'Pol's friendship was deeper than many people enjoyed – not quite the relationship of a spouse, but just as poignant and trusting.
One day, Phlox stepped into the lab for a moment to gather a few things. He heard the Sickbay doors hiss open and closed, gathering it was probably the captain. He finished collecting the tools and quietly walked around the corner when he saw Archer speaking gently, whispering to his first officer. On further inspection, he could see the captain's fingers caressing her forehead near her hairline for a second. And then the hand retreated, knowing it wasn't his place to stroke her skin or hair.
Phlox made his presence known by doing what he'd observed humans do before: he gave a light cough.
"I believe she's making end roads," Phlox said, walking over to the bio-bed and staring at the monitor above her bed.
Archer straightened his shoulders and fell into the role of captain. "But, no progress?"
"No," he said. "At least, not since you were last here. It's only been a few hours."
"Where's Trip?" Archer asked, glancing around the room. At this time of day, he was usually in Sickbay.
"I sent him home. He needs his rest and he can't do her any good. And neither can you. Captain, as I already explained, she'll come to when she's ready. Until then, we just … wait."
The furrow in his brow stayed creased as he stared at her a moment longer.
"Let me know …," Archer began.
Interrupting, the physician said, "I know, I know … let you know the moment her condition changes. I will."
Archer nodded, heaved a brief sigh and gave a small smile to the doctor. "Thanks."
As Archer was about to turn on his heal, uncharacteristically, Phlox caught his arm.
"Captain, …," he gently warned.
Archer attempted to explain away the incident. "She's my best friend, Doc."
Phlox didn't buy it. If it were anyone else on board, he would've lectured him on relationships or sexual tension. In fact, he'd already given Archer that speech only eighteen years ago. But, now? He couldn't. Watching the captain's face, he gathered the man knew his excuse was flimsy and desperate. So, rather than challenge him further, the physician gave a nod – the affirmation wasn't sympathetic, understanding or filled with recrimination; he merely acknowledged the words.
With that, Archer stalked out of the room and headed down the hall.
As the captain left, Phlox let the moment ruminate in his head. It was for the best Archer never told anyone about his feelings – it would've been a tragedy to everyone. It was wise that Archer buried whatever feelings he had. Sadly, the doctor figured he'd been doing so for so long, it came as second nature.
Jumping into the present, the doctor watched her eyes.
"Seems the revelation of his feelings was only a matter of time," he noted, letting the memory linger.
She raised an eyebrow, wondering how long Phlox had known.
"Perhaps," she admitted, quietly.
"How do you feel about him?" she asked.
Blinking quickly, her eyes darted around the room. She decided to be honest with him. "I care for him deeply. But …."
"But?" he asked.
"There's a part of me that doesn't know what it wants."
Motioning for her to finally have a seat on the bio-bed, Phlox said, "Ah. Humans have a very strange saying – follow your heart."
Puzzled, she stared at him.
Phlox smiled. "I did warn you it was odd. Well, I understand it's figurative, not literal. It's the idea that deep down, you know what you want, you're just not listening."
"Logic dictates …," she began.
"Pppft! Nonsense. After living with humans for nearly twenty years, I think you of all people would know some things aren't logical – emotions aren't logical. Love certainly isn't. It wasn't logical to marry Trip."
Studying him, she didn't agree or disagree with that comment.
"Just like it's not logical to feel guilty about your feelings for Jonathan," he said.
Her eyes widened and she folded her arms.
"Everyone, T'Pol, deserves to be happy. I think Trip would want you to be happy. Don't you?"
With reluctance she agreed. "Yes."
"I know you didn't come in here for my advice," he said, pausing, "but, it makes sense to explore your feelings for him. You two have been friends and you care about him …."
Phlox finally reached over to her neck and gave her the analgesic.
"Thank you for your help," she said.
"Of course," he agreed with a smile.
"If Zeke continues to bother you, I'd be willing to lead him through meditation. Although the Vulcan arts usually begin with children over seven."
"What?" asked the doctor.
"You indicated the boy's energy was meddlesome."
"Oh. Yes. Well, I think he's probably all right, but I'll let you know."
As T'Pol walked down the corridors to her room, she thought about Phlox's comments. His words weren't lost on her; she just wouldn't be able to accept things so easily. Jonathan was her friend. She indeed had feelings – romantic ones – for him, layered on friendship, respect, admiration and so many other emotions that it would be impossible not to have a relationship with him. The doctor … no, her friend, was correct – Trip would want her to be … happy. He was always a giving and loving husband; it wasn't his blessing she really needed to garner. It was Lorian's. Although her son wouldn't want to deprive her of contentment, he most likely wouldn't come around so easily.
The Vulcan entered her cabin, showered and put on some fresh clothes. Looking at herself in the mirror, she brushed her hair and wondered where this relationship would lead. And as she did so, she noticed something completely illogical and unexpected – she became slightly nervous and excited. Running through a checklist of items what would cause this reaction, she'd determined it was thinking of seeing him again. For a second … only a second … she was bemused. Occasionally when traipsing down to Engineering, after Trip and she first began to date, did she feel eager and awkward. With Jonathan, she'd almost always felt comfortable with him – reassured. The friendship was relaxed and gave her strength.
Perhaps it was the complexity of spending the night with him that gave her … what her late husband would call – butterflies. Thinking about a smile on his lips and light reflected in his pupils made her more anxious.
"Maybe the doctor was incorrect about following one's heart. It might be more correct to follow one's stomach," she thought.
Scenting herself, which she hadn't done in years and finishing her makeup, she headed to the Bridge.
When she stepped onto the deck plating, away from the turbolift, she noticed a smirk from the captain as he headed toward her station to meet her there. He stretched over her console slightly, watched her eyes shift uncomfortably and then he took one small step back.
Keeping his voice low, he asked, "You okay?"
"Yes," she replied. "I apologize for being late. I had a mild headache."
He furrowed his brow. In all the years he'd known her, he couldn't remember the last time she had a headache. In fact, in the past he'd wondered when he occasionally spied her in Sickbay with one, whether she was covering up for her Pa'nar Syndrome or later her addiction.
"But, you're feeling okay now?" he asked.
"Yes," she said.
Wanting to give her an out, he said, "We don't need to meet this morning, if you're not up for it."
And then a tiny speck of disappointment crossed her features. Confused, he waited for her response.
"Seems a shame. I've always … enjoyed our debriefs."
"I have, too."
She said nothing more on the subject, but the silence to him meant maybe he should have one. Actually, he needed to tell her a few things. She was still the first officer.
Hesitating for a moment, he headed for his Ready Room with T'Pol following slightly at his footsteps. As they crossed the threshold, Archer was faced with something he'd never looked forward to: T'Pol, in a way, reported to him. Although he'd dreamed of the moment their friendship would progress into a romantic relationship, he thought it would create tension and problems in the command structure.
The two gazed at each other, waiting for the other one to say something. Knowing she was more patient and could out-wait him, and feeling the need to say something, he decided to go first.
"I … uh …. Last night was wonderful. I don't want to pressure you …."
Halting his mouth, she pressed her lips against his, and as his mouth surrendered, she deepened the kiss. Unlike last night, her eyes were slightly open, watching him. Her embrace felt sweet, encouraging and full of promise.
When their lips broke apart, Archer swallowed hard and caressed her cheek.
"I care about you …," she confessed.
"I know," he agreed. "I know how you feel, it's okay. We'll just take things slowly and when you're ready."
"I believe I'm ready."
He sighed.
Reaching for his hand, which rested against her face, she placed her mouth to it. "I'm ready."
Silence fell between them, as he tried to read her expressions. The intensity in her eyes let him know she was resolute. His thumb stroked her cheekbone as his eyes gleamed back at her.
Quietly she said, "I suggest we attempt to keep our professional relationship separate from our romantic one."
He nodded his head and let his hands fall to his side.
Carrying on, she began, "Rostov indicated he could replace the injector casings within a few days …."
Archer asked, "Wait. That's it?"
"Is there more than needs to be said?"
"Have you been able to talk with Lorian?" he asked.
"No. Not yet."
Sensing that was all she had to say on the matter, he sat on the edge of his desk and tried to wear the mantle of captain.
"Michael indicated he could replace the injector casing within a few days if they've already been received," she said.
"Got them this morning."
"And Captain Rema wasn't too upset?" she asked.
"No."
T'Pol poked her eyebrow into her forehead. "Oh?"
Casually, he mentioned, "I sent Malcolm and a team over there this morning to meet with her, and start moving the supplies over."
"Malcolm?"
He shrugged, trying to hide a grin. With that, the two fell into their routine of co-workers, with occasionally finger touches, twinkling eyes and hushed voices.
Chapter 18When Archer got home, Henry was parked on the couch, playing a video game and Elyssa was brushing her dolls' hair. As he crossed the door's threshold, Elyssa tossed her dolls to the ground, ran to him and threw her arms up into the air while his son barely eyed him.
Archer picked her up and complained, "I'm gonna throw my back out one day. You know you're getting pretty big."
She giggled and incessantly yammered on about her day in excruciating detail – including what homemade dress Yoshiko wore to school, how high Samuel Mayweather could jump (who apparently won an impromptu jumping contest) and what Sigmund, one of the Phlox children, did while the teacher wasn't looking. He set her down and nodded occasionally to prove he was listening, but was more focused on Henry. The man sat on the couch as son, with some annoyance, scooted away.
"Do you want to talk about this morning?" asked Jon, glad to have a break in the conversation with Elyssa.
Henry frowned. "Don't think there's much to talk about."
Yup, definitely like his father. Elyssa curled up next to her father and said, "Was she sleeping in your room?"
It was Archer's policy never to really lie to his children, except about Santa Clause, tooth fairies and trivial matters. Instead of going into a long explanation, he decided to answer her question.
"Yes."
"Oh. Mr. and Mrs. Hayes sleep together," she noted, as if working out in her mind the issue.
Henry sighed with irritation. "Don't you get it, Dad and Mrs. Tucker did it."
"Did what?" she asked.
Archer shot a warning to his son. "Lys, why don't you play with Yoshiko?"
"Had sex," Henry explained.
"Oh," she said. Confusion still marred her face as her lip protruded. Her older brother acted as if that would clarify a lot, but it didn't really solve anything in her mind.
Archer furrowed his brow at his son, who continued to stare down at his game, feigning interest.
"Lys, go play with Yoshi."
"I don't want to," she said. "Do you and Mrs. Tucker want to have a baby?"
He scratched at the back of his neck as his son looked up with fear, as if maybe that was true.
"No," he said.
"Oh," she said.
Henry breathed a marginal sigh of relief and Jon decided this conversation was a lot more complex than he thought it was going to be.
"But, you told me when Nina was born that sex was for having babies," she said.
Glancing between his two children he agreed. Thanks to Phlox, he already had to explain the birds and the bees to Elyssa, especially after Sigmund (Phlox and Amanda's middle child) pulled up a few pictures for her and tried to explain why his mother's stomach was swollen … again.
"Well, sometimes it is. And, sometimes it's between two adults who love each other."
"Do you love Mrs. Tucker?" Henry asked.
Mrs. Tucker? "Yes, I do."
"I wouldn't mind having a little sister," Elyssa said. "As long as she doesn't play with my dolls … and if she has pointed ears."
To both quiet her and show affection, he wrapped his hand around her shoulder and inched her toward him a little. The girl, including her talkative and cheerful nature, reminded him of her mother. She beamed up at him, blinking large sea-green eyes.
"Do you love her more than Mom?" Henry asked.
"Not more, I loved your mom differently."
"How?" Henry asked.
He shrugged. "Well, for one thing, your mother gave me two wonderful kids." Henry continued to mope, looking down at his game. "Henry, just because I love T'Pol doesn't make your mom any less special to me."
"Lorian said you've always liked her better."
"That's not true."
"Mom wouldn't want you with her," Henry said.
"You really think so? I think she'd want me to be happy. She was that kind of person," Jon replied.
The boy continued to pout, but didn't provide an answer.
"How do you feel about me seeing T'Pol?" Archer asked.
"I like her," Elyssa said.
Henry shrugged, keeping his gray eyes locked onto the PADD. "Henry?" asked Archer, trying to prompt his son into conversation.
"What?" he asked. He glanced up and noticed his father was staring at him. "I don't like it. I don't think mom would like it. I don't understand. You have us …."
Archer hoped his son would change his mind and think through things. He stared at the boy hoping to get more information out of him, but realized the kid was done … and when Henry was finished, that was it. The boy couldn't be reasoned with right away, he'd need to figure things out on his own and come back when he was ready.
'So much like me,' thought Archer.
As if to punctuate the end of the conversation, Henry went back to his PADD and played a game. Elyssa stared up, almost empathically knowing the little chat was tough and meant more than her father could convey to two children. Glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, he noticed she blinked quickly.
With her little finger curled, she begged her father to lean down. She let the ridges of her nose touch his and gave him a small Eskimo kiss.
When Elyssa was delivered, Archer was shocked at the kind of joy he could feel at having at daughter. He always imagined himself as the perfect father for a boy – he loved sports, roughhousing, camping and treasured the relationship he had with his own father. What was odd was how natural parenting a little girl was. From the moment she was born, she seemed to respond to his voice, imitate his mannerisms and do everything without any thought to be the apple of his eye.
He loved both children equally – it wasn't that he loved her more than Henry. It was just their personalities complemented each other. His relationship with his son was possibly deeper because it was more challenging. The relationship with his daughter was easy, he never had to reach out to her; she always bridged the gap for him.
The first words she ever spoke were "Dad-da" and in English. The first person she ever walked for was him and every step of the way, she leaned on him. It was such a strange phenomenon. Esilia was more gentle and caring with the children; she spent more time with them and concentrated on them more. But, Elyssa always demanded her father.
His little girl, he realized she would always be that, no matter her age, definitely needed a feminine touch. Archer would never understand her fascination with dolls, princesses, unicorns, fairies, Solait (a winged creature from her mother's heritage that reminded him of a flying hamster) and touching. Jon was tactile, but his daughter insisted on being held, picked up, cradled and kissed more than it seemed most children, certainly more than Henry who usually shied away from affection …which didn't seem odd for boys around ten.
Archer was thankful to work with so many doting mothers. Hoshi and T'Pol in many instances took up the slack and provided motherly advice. That was maybe something else Archer admired about T'Pol … she doted on Elyssa. Maybe T'Pol was the kind of woman who always imagined herself to be better with girls than boys. On more than one occasion, his first officer had comforted her cries, changed, fed, bathed and reassured her of her appearance, intelligence and uniqueness.
Growing up different was awkward for both children. But, boys usually fought and settled things. Girls slandered and verbally attacked each other, encouraging other children to join in, and Elyssa was not the kind of girl to stand and fight. Instead, she would break down in tears in front of an entire class of children. She felt all emotions strongly, particularly joy … and sometimes sadness.
One day when Elyssa was traumatized, the girl decided to hide, causing Archer to panic in ways he never thought he could. Soon T'Pol and Phlox joined the hunt for his daughter (Phlox always had a way with children, including the Archers) and eventually the Vulcan heard her crying in one of the air ducts. After nearly an hour of consoling her, Elyssa emerged holding her hand.
"I think she's feeling better now. But, undoubtedly she's hungry," T'Pol said to Archer.
Afraid her father would yell by the look in his eye, Elyssa cowered into T'Pol's leg.
"After being teased at school, perhaps you will be lenient on her," T'Pol remarked, placing a careful hand on the child's blonde head.
With the two ganged up against him, he couldn't help, but soften.
"They made fun of you at school, Lys?" he asked, crouching down.
Sensing his anger had passed, she ran into his arms where he immediately picked her up.
"Thanks, T'Pol."
"Thanks, Mrs. Tucker," Elyssa said.
The Vulcan did something completely unexpected. She caressed the little girl's face and said, "Well, I know something about being different, too."
As if the two women had developed a secret code, Lys smiled and placed her head on Archer's shoulder, eager to continue on with life's demands as if nothing had happened.
At the feeling of their noses touching, the girl giggled with glee.
He noticed his son was rolling his eyes and he ruffled the boy's head, causing Henry to become surprisingly both annoyed and content.
Chapter 19T'Pol, after her shift was complete, came back to her quarters – Lorian was still nowhere to be found. Deciding to use the time to meditate, she sank onto her meditation mat and placed her hands on her thighs. Her mind slowed as she twisted on mathematical equations and bizarre Vulcan symbols … things she thought about to calm her emotions. As her mind cleared, she thought about her day, what she would say to Lorian and her newfound relationship with Jonathan.
Jonathan Archer had always been there for her. Always. Her pregnancy, Lorian's birth, her Nefratic fever, Trip's death, and almost every point in between – Pa'nar, her separation from the High Council, her involvement with Trellium …. He'd always been her dearest friend, even guiding her through the minor tribulations of marriage by giving humanly advice when she was confounded by her husband's response or attitude. Even as his friend, she'd want to see someone he loved so completely return it – he deserved it. Ironic that honor should fall to her, and she should be so stingy with her feelings.
Running her fingers through his hair, kissing his lips and being held by him was astonishing. His outpouring of love and emotion was breathtaking. Jonathan's eyes stared at her, watching her every move to adjust his and waited with baited breath at her response. Feeling an enveloping amount of love and passion was … sublime. She couldn't help but be moved it and him.
Not only was he passionate, he was sweet – asking half-dozen times if she needed anything – water, food, a blanket or more room on his bed. Unlike the man oozing with confidence on the Bridge, she saw one who sought affirmation and bordered on timidity.
Jonathan would never be accused of being effusive, at least to anyone, but her and his children; so, his whispers of love and affection were delivered with painstaking care. It was difficult for him to utter, as if releasing the feeling would open a wound or ensure weakness. But, once the words had spilled out of his mouth, they kept fumbling out with beauty and clumsiness.
In sharp contrast Trip was effusive – he showered his team and son with constant praise. Her late husband wore his heart on his sleeve; every emotion was available at a moment's notice. Anger, joy, and love … it was on the surface nearly all the time. When he was happy, he'd whistle down the hallways or hum to himself. When he was irate, he'd yell for a few minutes until the storm blew over; luckily he rarely did so. She'd admired his ability to call up emotions so easily and quickly and then squash them with agility and grace.
The way they made love was even that way – Trip jumped into bed with enthusiasm and zeal. He encouraged her, raised his voice until passion overcame him, playfully nipped at her nose or lips, laughed at the exquisiteness of the moment, blissfully remarked about how she made him feel and snuggled her into his arms while excitedly chattering away about their life, the engines, their friends and son. The two would eventually wind up with her sprawled over him, as he gazed into her eyes for a few moments, brushed a lock of hair away and professed his love gleefully. Eventually nodding off, almost while speaking, he'd give a little snore as she watched on. Bemused, her eyes danced on the features of his pert nose and soft lips until she was too tired and closed them.
Jonathan treated this just as seriously as he did everything else, and with the same amount of intensity and determination. Holding her gaze, his lips hovered centimeters away from hers. Sweat collected at his hairline, back and stomach. Deep moans escaped his throat and he whispered her name over his tongue as the moment took him. When he caught his breath, his eyes became glassy for a few seconds until he batted the sentiment away. Staying connected with his hips on hers, his finger twirled in her hair and his lips sought hers out, nibbling on them. After nuzzling her nose, he crawled behind her quietly and wrapped his limbs around her. His hushed voice nabbed her ear, where he confessed his love, admitted how good it felt to be with her, asked if she was cold and talked about her. As she drifted to sleep, he provided a kiss at her temple and left his legs and arms draped over hers … watching her while she drifted to sleep.
As her mind pondered the differences in both men, she heard the door open – Lorian.
"Lorian, I'd like to talk about …."
"I have nothing to say," he said. With a slight huff, he tossed his PADDs onto a nearby chair and wandered to the very small and open kitchen to retrieve something to drink.
Suspiciously she eyed him. "You can always ask me, it doesn't have to be right now."
"Ask you what? Why you slept with him? I think I know – you've been lonely. Although, it seems illogical that a Vulcan would feel such an emotion."
Knitting her eyebrows together, she stood up. "It was not loneliness."
"I don't think you should see him anymore, not in that way."
"Why?" she asked, moving from her meditation mat to a nearby chair.
"There are too many reasons to mention."
"You liked Captain Archer before this incident."
"That's true."
"What has changed?" she asked.
"His romantic relationship with you. For one, he is the captain and you are a subordinate."
T'Pol interrupted, "Everyone on board this ship would fit into that category. Even, Esilia did. Besides, I was involved with my … subordinate … your father."
Lorian corrected her, "He didn't exactly report to you."
She raised her eyebrow against her forehead. "Actually, he did report to me, just as I report to the captain. Although I am not affiliated with Starfleet, I am the chief officer and frequently provided orders to Trip."
Not having a comeback, he remained silent.
"Do you disagree that the captain should be allowed to marry?" she asked.
"Possibly. He would be unable to divide his time correctly among his ship, his crew, his wife or mate and his children."
"You're questioning his pluralities?"
"Exactly so," he agreed.
The Vulcan was mildly amused, remembering the same conversation with the man within the first two years of her joining the crew. Her mouth twitched and she disagreed, "I believe the captain can effectively manage all of these things. Besides, isn't that his decision to make?"
"Captains should … walk alone," he said, using a human saying.
"Sounds unrealistic. Vulcan captains marry," she said.
"I just know if I were in his position, I wouldn't make that mistake," Lorian said.
"You said you had other points?" she asked, thinking the boy was naïve.
"After dating and marrying one human, I don't believe you should give yourself over to another."
"I don't understand."
"Their lifespans are shorter. Besides, you said yourself on occasion that the burdens of their emotions is too much at times."
"I realize their lifespans are shorter, but I would be affected by his death anyway. The fact is, Jonathan has always been my friend. I would care deeply for the man even if we were not … involved." She watched her son finish a glass of water and tap it onto the open shelf dividing the kitchen and living room.
She continued, "As for the emotions they continue to bombard me with, I have grown somewhat accustomed to it."
"Archer has always proven that he cannot handle your Vulcan heritage – that he does not respect it," he insisted.
"When has he in your life time? That hasn't been true for almost nineteen years. Nineteen years ago, he felt that my people held his father back, but he's long since moved passed that. His feelings have changed and we became friends. I would never have willingly risked my life to serve under someone who hated my species or me … I never would've entered the expanse if I believed that to be true." She leaned forward, shooting her gaze at the boy. "Have you ever thought the captain did not respect or like you?"
Lorian's face flustered with a light shade of green. "No."
"I would hope not. My decision to enter a relationship doesn't change how he feels about you. I know he cares for you deeply. After all, you are the child of his two best friends. You are his godchild."
"If he was father's best friend, why was he in love with you for all these years, secretly hoping to win you over? Why father was so dear to him, why would he pursue you now?"
Her hands wrapped around a pillow and she drew it thoughtfully to her chest. "Win me over? No. He never made his thoughts known. Logically, I believe he would've never made those thoughts known, had you not provided that information to both of us."
Lorian gave a visible frown at the last comment and decided to end the conversation. He was unwilling to, at this point, take any personal responsibility for his actions. He'd only wanted to convince his mother that a relationship with the captain was impossible, but it seemed his mother was already … to use a human word … infatuated. It didn't change his feelings; he thought their relationship was a mistake and began to cook under the pressure that they'd continue to be together without his consent.
With annoyance, he stood up and blurted out. "I'll be in the gym." With that, he grabbed a few clothes and stomped out the door.
T'Pol watched him leave, deciding physical exertion may improve his mood. She disliked their argument, but became used to the idea they would have them. Since Trip perished, they were at odds over many things … although, this one seemed worse than the others.
Trip had a way of understanding the young man, but her relationship with her son would never be as effortless. Their personalities conflicted. T'Pol was rational with tremors of emotion, mostly peaceful and serene. To others, she understood she sometimes gave off the air of haughtiness or aloofness, but knew that the crew had accepted her long ago.
Lorian teetered somewhere between too much emotion and not enough, constantly struggling for a balance. Undoubtedly having only learned some of the Vulcan rituals to train his mind, he would have to work to either keep his emotions contained or let them loose in anger or joy. Archer always seemed like the perfect godparent – he had the most controlled mind she'd met … for a human. Although anger occasionally slipped away from him too easily, he used most emotions only to prove his point or further a relationship. Typically, they were secured deep within him and out of range.
That control and suppression was precisely what her son needed, and why she and Trip had selected him in the first place.
Perhaps Lorian, in time, would change his mind about Jonathan.
TBC