This is set in season two, sometime after 'Future Tense' and before all that Xindi stuff.

Thank you to my Beta, G.Eliot, for her patience with my ramblings.

Spoilers: The Seventh, Shadows of P'Jem

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Jonathan and T'Pol sat in the Captains mess, eating quietly. It was just the two of them, as Trip had a problem to fix in Engineering. Something to do with the refitting the plasma manifolds to accommodate a different type of Warp plasma. They had recently been running tests with the new Warp Plasma supply that they had picked up on Rigel 2, and so Engineering was extra busy.

T'Pol had headed the supply run, but hadn't wanted to. She was concerned about the Captain. He had been unusually quiet for several weeks before the team had departed and had T'Pol had not anticipated the state in which she found him on her return.

His face was grey with fatigue, and he had dark circles under his eyes as if he hadn't slept in weeks. His seemed distracted when he was on the bridge, and he was spending much more time than usual in his ready room.

The night before, she had happened upon him in the corridor. She was going to the gym when she had turned a corner and had almost walked into the captain. He was wandering down the corridor with Porthos by his side, and had been looking at an image on a data PADD. T'Pol had only caught a glimpse of bright colours before he had quickly hidden the PADD.

And now, he looked like he was going to cry for some reason. She was concerned about him; as a friend and as a colleague. She had to try to help before his work was affected too adversely.

"Captain," T'Pol began, "Is something the matter?"

"Huh?" Jon replied. He had been lost in his own world of thought, and was startled when T'Pol broke the silence.

"For the past several days, even before we left to apprehend Jamal, you have been more subdued than usual. I am beginning to get concerned."

"Oh."

"When you helped me track down Menos, I told you that I would be there if you ever needed anyone to trust. I meant it. You can trust me."

"You know what?" Jon asked thoughtfully, "I think I can. Ironic really, considering it's Vulcans that are at the root of the problem."

"I beg your pardon?"

"No offence intended T'Pol, really. It's just this problem goes was back; almost twenty years. And recently, I've just been thinking a lot about it."

T'Pol stood and moved to the chair that Trip usually occupied. Shifting it closer to the Captain, she put one hand on his arm and looked into his troubled eyes.

"I am here to listen, if you wish to tell me," she told him.

Jon looked deeply into her eyes, resisting the urge to get lost in their depths.

He loved her. There. He'd finally admitted it to himself. He loved T'Pol with every fiber of his being, but there was no chance that she'd ever learn to feel anything more than friendship for him.

If friendship was what she was offering, then he would gladly take it. He'd trust her with his life and his ship, and had done so on several occasions. Perhaps it was time to trust her with the biggest secret he had.

"Ok, I'll tell you," he said, trying not to notice the way her eyes lit up when he told her that. "Not many people know this, not even Admiral Forrest. Only Trip knows the full story, and that is because he's my best friend, and I've know him for ten years."

"Then I am honoured that you wish to tell me." T'Pol told him sincerely.

"Don't speak too soon," Jon attempted to joke, but his heart wasn't in it. "Ok. Here we go. Just, don't interrupt me, please. I feel I can only say this once."

T'Pol nodded in assent, and Jon cleared his throat to speak.

"It started eighteen years ago. I was twenty two and living in San Francisco..."

Jon spoke for the better part of an hour. It seemed to T'Pol that once he started, he couldn't stop. He told her everything, even crying at one point, but she never said a word, as promised, until he had finished.

T'Pol was very surprised, to say the least. What he told her had completely changed what she knew about Vulcan/human interspecies relations. Though, it did finally explain his seemingly irrational dislike of Vulcans. It had always seemed to T'Pol that there was more to it than just the hoops they made his father jump through. Now she knew. It was personal.

Jon had laid his head on his folded arms on the table, as if he couldn't meet her eyes. She placed a slender hand on his arm to get his attention.

"I think I understand now," she told him. "When I was recalled to Vulcan because of the destruction of P'Jem, you told me that the Vulcans had taken something from your father that meant a lot to him, and that you weren't going to let it happen to you. What you really meant was that you weren't going to let it happen to you again."

"That's right."

"I used to think your dislike of Vulcans merely a species stereotype, but I was wrong. My people have taken so much from you, and caused you so much pain. It is a wonder that you do not hate me also."

Jon turned swiftly to face her.

"No T'Pol, I could never hate you. I swear it."

They looked into each other's eyes, and an unspoken bond of something more than friendship was formed.

Without a word, T'Pol pulled her Captain into a tight embrace. His head rested in the crook of her neck, and his arms went around her waist.

They stayed like that for a long time.

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Three Weeks Later...

'For a vacuum, there sure is a lot of noise' Hoshi thought as she sat at her station a few weeks later. Space was supposed to be silent, but constant static could be heard through her earpiece at the comm. station.

Crackle... crackle... Help... Crackle....

Wait, what was that?

Hoshi reconfigured her sensors, and scanned subspace again.

Yes, there defiantly was something there. Some sort of distress call.

'I'd better tell the Captain,' she thought, and activated the com.

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Jon couldn't help it. He had to laugh. T'Pol just looked so confused when she used chopsticks. He and Trip were trying to hide their grins at her frustration when the call came through to the Captain's mess.

"Bridge to the Captain."

"Go ahead Hoshi." Jon told her, shooting Trip a dirty look when he snorted loudly in amusement at T'Pol, for she was attacking her bean sprouts once more with the difficult utensils, and renewed vigor

"Sir, I'm picking up a distress call, bearing point seven light years from our current position. It's a bit garbled, but I'm sure I caught the words "Nausican" and "Pirates".

"Tell Travis to change course and head for the source of the signal. We're on our way Hoshi," Jon told her as the three officers exchanged looks of concern, and as one stood.

"Id better get to Engineering," Trip said as he reached the door. "Last time we met these guys, it wasn't fun. I just want to make sure we're in top shape if we do have to out-maneuver them."

He jogged off down the corridor, and Jon stood back to allow T'Pol to precede him. As she passed him, their arm's brushed lightly, and energy crackled between them. Both stiffened their shoulders, and walked to the lift with about a foot of space between them.

After Jon had poured his heart out to T'Pol in the mess hall, their mutual attraction had grown, and they had begun a relationship. Though she was his sub-ordinate, T'Pol technically wasn't in Starfleet, and so she had used logic to win that argument. They both agreed to keep it completely professional on duty, but it was hard on the few occasions they had touched. Fire leapt between them when they did, and it took a lot of will-power to take a stand back from that.

"Report." Jon demanded when they reached the bridge.

"We should reach the source of the distress call in twenty two minutes Captain," Malcolm told him as Jon sat in his chair. "I have both the phase cannons and torpedo armed and ready in case we have to tangle with these Nausicans."

"Excellent. Hoshi?"

"I've managed to clear up most of the signal sir. It's an automated distress call, about an hour old. It's very short, and urgent. It's from a Vulcan survey ship sir. It came to the aid of a cargo ship that was under attack by Nausicans. The cargo ship managed to escape, and they were about to do the same when two more Nausican ships arrived. They are asking for immediate help." She listened for a moment again. "They were boarded sir."

"T'Pol, scan the area for any Nausican ships," Jon told her, even though she was already doing it.

"There are none within a light year," she informed him. "They must have looted the ship." He could hear the strain in her voice, and knew she was concerned. She had many friends in the Department of Science, and many of them work on survey ships. In an attempt to ease her concern, he asked Hoshi

"What's the name of this ship?"

She listened again for a moment, head cocked to cone side, and one finger on her earpiece.

"It's the TeDu'n Captain. It's a stellar-cartography vessel sir."

He turned to T'Pol, intending to ask her if she knew anyone on that ship, when his brain caught up with his body.

The TeDu'n.

A science vessel.

Oh god! It was her ship!

His panicked eyes met T'Pol's concerned ones. She too understood the significance of the name of the ship, though no-one else on the bridge understood Jon's sudden need to pace furiously.

He needed to get there! The ship was going to slow! He was about to ask Travis if it would help if he got out and pushed when they dropped out of Warp.

"On screen," Jon ordered, ignoring the looks that passed between the rest of the bridge crew.

The TeDu'n was a small vessel, Shadan class, with a crew of twenty five. Though not too heavily shielded, or heavily armed, the Shadan class ships had extremely accurate sensors, and fast engines. This one looked like it had been used for target practice. Gaping holes pock-marked the hull, and a smoke billowed from one section of the craft. Jon felt his heart leap into his throat when he asked the question he was dreading the answer to.

"Life signs?"

"I am sensing three bio-signs, though I cannot pin-point them accurately. The Nausican weapons have left too much interference in the area surrounding the ship."

"Three?" Jon asked, incredulous. "Three life-signs! There should be twenty five!"

Malcolm exchanged a surprised look with Travis. How did the Captain know so much about this class of ship? And why was he so worried? He looked across into Hoshi's eyes, and saw the same questions mirrored there.

"It seems that the pirates did their job well," T'Pol said, her calm voice betraying traces of disgust at the attack on her people.

"Ok, I want two teams over there searching for survivors. Malcolm, you take one, I'll take the other. Use hand held scanners. You start at the stern of the ship, and I'll take the bridge. We'll meet in the middle."

As Jon spoke, he was headed towards the lift, closely followed by Malcolm.

"T'Pol, you have the bridge."

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Jon's team materialized on the bridge, amidst chaos. Alarms and claxons were going off, and a thick smoke pervaded the air. There were bodies scattered across the bridge, and green blood ran freely from various wounds. Some had obviously been killed when the ship was attacked and consoles exploded, others had been killed by the Nausican boarding party.

Whilst the away team moved towards the panels to try and assess the damage to the ship and turn off the alarms, Jon ran to the pilot's chair, and pulled back the body slumped over it. To his relief, it wasn't her. The pilot was middle-aged and plump, and male. He felt guilty for his relief as he stood to answer his communicator.

"Archer."

"Sir." It was Malcolm on the other end. "We're picked up all three life-signs in an aft compartment. We're approaching there now."

"Understood. We're on our way, there's nothing we can do for these people up here."

Flipping his communicator closed, he nodded to the others, and they left the bridge.

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Malcolm and his team advanced carefully, a phaser in one hand. All members of the away team had been armed, on his order, and for once the Captain didn't argue. He seemed too anxious to get over to the other ship to squabble over technicalities.

As his team had walked the corridors of the ship, they had found traced of green, Vulcan blood next to the bodies of the crew. Now, there was purple blood in the mix. Nausican blood, Malcolm guessed. It looked like someone had fought back. Though there were no Nausican bodies.

The corridor was dark, as if someone had turned of the lights in order to hide a retreat. The bio-signs were located in a room up ahead. He called out to the occupants, and either they couldn't hear him, or weren't answering him. He rapped on the bulkhead, but got no response.

Carefully he thumbed the door control, and it slid open, spilling light into the corridor, blinding the away team. Once his vision had adapted, Malcolm looked up and found himself face to face with a plasma rifle.

It was wielded by a young Vulcan woman. She had light brown hair, and a slight build. She was about the same height as Malcolm, and was dressed in a tight-fitting cat suit without rank or insignia. By human standards, she looked to be about sixteen or seventeen, but that wasn't saying much because this was a Vulcan. Malcolm could see two other Vulcans behind her, obviously hurt, and realized that she was the one protecting them.

"Who are you?" she demanded, her grip never wavering on the rifle.

"My name is Malcolm Reed," he told her. "Lieutenant Malcolm Reed. I'm the tactical officer..."

He trailed off as her gaze shifted and she moved her rifle to cover the arrival of the other away team. They all had their weapons out, but Jon dropped his when he was who was training the rifle on him.

"Tesana," he said, slowly walking forward into the light. "Drop your weapon. It's me."

Immediately, the young Vulcan, Tesana, lowered the rifle and rested it against the doorframe. Then, she did something no-one but Jon expected her to do.

She hurtled herself into Jon's outstretched arms, and allowed herself to be hugged half to death.

Tesana rested her cheek against Jon's chest, and hugged him back.

"I'm so pleased that it is you," she told him.

"I know honey, me too. I've missed you so much." Jon said, smiling down at her. She turned to look into his face, seeming pleased with what she saw in his eyes.

The away teams looked on in shock, and got an even larger shock when the corners of her mouth turned up into a delicate smile.

"I've missed you too, Father," she told him, and again rested her cheek on Jon's chest.

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What do ya think?

R&R Please!

Lieutenantslady