A/N: Scapephile, I will definitely explain what Trip is doing there.
Plan B, part 7
"Trip!" he asked. As he sat up, she could see his confusion – probably from more than just learning his friend was in the room.
"Why would he just come in?" he asked.
She didn't have any answers.
"Are you sure?" he asked. "Trip?"
Her eyes caught his and she confirmed with a small head bob.
"I know he's got the wrong idea about us," he said.
Although at first they'd pretended to be in an impassioned embrace, by the time Trip left she'd experienced something that was real. The way his body, even though their clothing, snugly connected with hers elicited … pleasure.
"Does he have the 'wrong idea?'" she asked.
Prolonged silence filled the air.
Hair akimbo, thanks to her fingers, he stared at her and she met his gaze with the same intensity.
"T'Pol, I think things just got out of hand."
She was almost certain that was a lie, and she suspected he knew that was untrue as well. When their bodies collided, she could feel his interest in her. Struggling whether to ask him about it, she directed an eyebrow at him, hoping he'd struggle at the unasked question.
She was not disappointed.
"I mean … under normal circumstances, that wouldn't have happened," he said.
She blinked three times.
"I think we were both caught up in the heat of the moment," he added.
She didn't blink.
"Weren't we?" he asked.
It was times like these she draped herself in the mantle of logic.
"Although we were encouraged by the moment, you and your body, seemed eager to continue. I believe if I hadn't caught your hand you would've –"
He interrupted her. "You moaned in my ear."
"You indicated I felt good."
He frowned.
As she opened her mouth, he began to think aloud.
"It's inappropriate."
"Inappropriate?" Dryly she remarked, "We're married."
"We're not really married."
"Yes we are. Phlox conducted the …."
"No, I mean, we're not permanently wedded."
That was true, but somehow that thought hadn't come to light, at least in her brain. She must've waited too long to respond, because he questioned that assumption.
"Are we?" he asked. His tone sounded demanding.
"Of course not," she said.
After a long sigh, he looked into her eyes. "I think living in close quarters and pretending we're husband and wife has affected us."
Perhaps he is right.
"If we weren't trying to convince Shran about our nuptials, we never would've acted as if we were …."
"Enjoying a union?"
"Right. Which means we never would've …"
"Made out?" she asked. It was a colloquialism she'd heard from Trip.
He winced. "Yeah."
Silently T'Pol wondered about the deductions. Gazing at him she gathered he wasn't entirely convinced of what he was saying either. One thing was true: playing husband and wife had taken a toll on her. For the past two days, her concentration had been askew, her mental acuity had been diminished and her emotions had swirled near the surface. Being with the captain usually felt comfortable and relaxing, but now it felt dangerous.
"Maybe we should set some ground rules," he said.
"For example …?"
"I should wear a shirt to bed."
Raising her brow at half-staff, she agreed. "Good idea."
"I don't think we should touch …."
"Perhaps only when Shran is around."
He concurred. "I'm glad that's settled."
I don't believe it's settled at all.
"I should probably talk with Trip in the morning."
"Undoubtedly," she said. If she knew the engineer, and she did – a little too well, she knew he was hurting.
With that, he grabbed his pillow again and settled down on the floor to sleep the rest of the night. Closing her eyes, she thought about what would've happened had she allowed his hand to roam her skin. It kept her awake. Because the room was silent, devoid of snoring, she wondered if he was awake, too.
Trip hurried back to his room – stunned. No, scratch that. He was more than stunned, he was shocked beyond all belief.
He noticed Shran creeping in and out of the captain's quarters and decided to drop by to make sure both his senior officers were okay. After depressing the chime and not getting an answer, he paced hoping his brain would come to the right decision.
Something's probably wrong. I should make sure they're okay.
When he stepped across the portal he thought for a second they were pulling his leg. The two looked like they were wrestling under the covers and the moans that emitted from both sounded as fake as the day was long. He'd had first-hand knowledge of T'Pol whimpering in delight. And that sure as hell wasn't it … at least at first.
As he tried to figure out the most appropriate thing to do next, he sensed a change. The movements under the covers suddenly seemed more real and she whispered a moan that made the hairs on his arms stand up and prickled his skin. That was genuine. That had been the groan that escaped her lips as she'd fallen into bliss for him, coaxing him to do the same.
Standing there, mouth agape, he backed up slowly hoping not to alert anyone, especially Porthos. Luckily, the dog opened both eyes, raised his little doggie head and then grumbled back to sleep.
When he was almost out of the room, he heard something else that made his stomach weak. Jon said, "God, you feel so good."
That's what drove him out, scurrying back to his place.
The events played in his mind – plaguing it. It brought into the spotlight something he hadn't really considered for a while: how his friend may have been interested in her for three years now. When the Vulcans, including that slimy Tolaris character, were around, he'd personally accused the captain of being jealous. And it was the right accusation to make. After making a big fuss about T'Pol spending time with the Vulcans, he'd sulked around Enterprise wondering when she'd be back.
Then there was that time before entering the Expanse, when they thought T'Pol would be dropped off on Vulcan. Trip had wondered if the guy was harboring some kind of crush on her, but figured it was just a captain saddened by the loss of a good officer. When he'd asked about a new science officer, the captain had been quick to dismiss it.
And, although he was grateful for the decision not to line the hull with trellium, it didn't seem like the kind of decision Captain Archer would make – especially the one hell bent on destroying the Xindi weapon. He'd made a personal decision based on his feelings for a friend.
Maybe more than a friend.
Those decisions weren't made by the captain; they'd been made by a guy who'd had feelings for her. Trip had just figured the man had done those things out of friendship and care – not love.
Boy, was I off base.
He'd never know T'Pol's mind. The woman was about as complex as a differential equation based on the fluidity of water – a problem that almost got him flunked out of advanced theoretical calculus in college.
Maybe this marriage brought out his feelings for her.
Glumly, he slid into his bunk and thought about what to do next.
Captain Hernandez has been trying to recruit me for months.
Picking up a picture of Lizzie, the one he kept by is bed, he nodded.
I'll tell him tonight.
Jhamel enjoyed the new sounds and smells aboard Enterprise. Going back to her home seemed almost impossible after her stay, especially without her brother. Her door chime rang and she awkwardly stood trying to remember how many steps it took to get to the door.
After she opened it, she smelled and sensed who it was.
"Shran." she said. A smile overtook her albino face.
"You know me too well."
Waving her hand out, she hoped he would come in instead of wait at the door. When he didn't take a step forward, she urged him in. "You have something to tell me."
"I know you must miss your brother. When Talas died, the hardest thing to do was go to sleep that night."
Staring off where she assumed he was, she agreed. "Yes, I haven't been able to sleep."
Making her way to sit on her bed, she gave a small nod. After only a few seconds, he sat next to her.
She said, "I can't go to bed – everything's that happened. Captain Archer said these creatures that harmed my brother are Romulans."
"We think that, but we're not 100 sure."
"It's hard to believe a species would be so cruel."
Somehow, she felt the warmth of his smile and a hand almost touch her; before his hand could reach her it retracted.
"You're so young," he whispered.
"You must've seen so many things."
"I have. Things some people should never really see."
The two became silent for a moment, and she guessed he was probably thinking of his crew that died. Because she was highly telepathic and slightly empathic, sadness crept over her and she felt her uncontrollable antennae droop.
"You'll ask Captain Archer to return you to Andoria?"
"I don't know," he said.
Hoping to change the subject, she decided to talk about the observations she made about the two most senior officers on the ship.
"He and his wife – they're interesting," she said.
"A human and a Vulcan."
"No, something more."
"Like?" he asked.
"Discomfort. Confusion. Deceit."
"Deceit? Like they're not married?" he asked. She could almost feel his antennae jutted out over his forehead in near-anger.
"I haven't read Captain Archer's mind, but I think they are married … and yet they aren't."
"What does that mean?"
The Aenar starred into space. "I don't know."
She felt him push himself off the bunk and begin to pace. "I've suspected something strange going on myself. But, it's hard to put a finger on exactly what the problem is."
"Is it so important?" she asked.
He went silent for almost a minute. "Yes. My honor, Talas' honor, my crew's honor – they're all at stake. I can't have let Talas die in vain."
I wish I hadn't brought up their relationship.
She knew of only one way to relieve her friend of his torment, at least momentarily.
"Maybe I can help."
"How?"
"I can scan his mind, if he permits me."
Shran rubbed his antennae and thought about the two things that kept him awake most of the night: Jhamel and the information she'd shared about Archer and his Vulcan. He needed help sorting things out – Talas had only died a few days ago, and it was time to tell Archer that the marriage to his first officer was under investigation.
Strutting up to Archer's cabin he depressed the chime and noticed it wasn't working. Although he was used to entering their quarters unannounced, he believed the two were intimate last night and decided to show a little tact – something he wasn't used to doing. Annoyed at the machinery that didn't work, he knocked at the door loudly – hoping it was the appropriate thing to do.
The Vulcan was the first thing he saw.
"Yes?" she asked. She was dressed in the blue nightgown he saw her in last night.
"Your husband here?" he asked, brushing past her into the cabin.
"He's in the shower."
"I'm here to see him."
The Vulcan cocked her haughty eyebrow at him and he frowned in response.
"If he's your husband, you should let him know I'm here. I want to have a drink with him," Shran said.
"But, he should be out any minute," she said.
She seems reticent - further evidence. "Tell him I'm waiting. Tell him!"
He could tell she was going to ague, which made him reassert his claim. "According to paragraph …," he began.
T'Pol gave a brief head nod, took a deep breath and headed into the bathroom. As the door slid behind her, he could hear her announce her presence and him give a manly yelp.
"I apologize for startling you …."
"What the hell…!"
"Shran insisted I inform you he's waiting for you."
"Did he? Well, tell that blue of son a –"
"He's in the room."
"He's what!"
"He's in the room."
"Great. I've got work to do and -"
"Jonathan, according to paragraph …."
"I read it!"
"Then you know …."
"Yes, I know. Jesus. All right, tell him to wait in the Mess Hall."
"Very well. You're almost finished?"
"Yes … dear."
After a few seconds, she emerged wearing a furrow in her brow. Before she could open her mouth, he waved her comments away.
"I heard, I heard."
"Then you know he'd like you to wait in the Mess Hall?"
He shook his head. "I'll wait for him right here."
Suddenly the door to the bathroom opened and revealed a drenched human with a towel around his middle.
"What the f!" he asked.
The Andorian interrupted him. "I decided to wait for you."
Archer grumbled under his breath about his privacy, keeping one hand clutched at his towel as the other explored his drawers.
"He's testy this morning," Shran said.
She corrected him. "Not just this morning."
Archer's glare punished Shran and then his wife.
Testing the two, Shran said something that he hoped would needle the human. "I thought you'd be in a better mood this morning considering you got … lucky last night."
Ignoring the remark, the captain stalked back to the bathroom, carrying his clothes with him. As the door shut, his Vulcan spoke.
"Neither humans nor Vulcans care to discuss private and personal details."
That's suspicious.
He said, "Your Vulcan hearing should've alerted you to my presence last night."
"It should've." Her eyes hit the ground. "Other matters drew my attention."
Distrustfully, he eyed her.
Probably to throw him off the trail, she asked a pointed question. "You came here to discuss Jhamel with Jonathan?"
Damn, she's good.
"Partially. How'd you know?" he asked.
"It's obvious."
His antennae lay back in surprise.
"As obvious as her interest in you," she said.
Shran stared at his feet. "We've both lost someone."
"Yes. However, I doubt Jhamel would've joined you if she wasn't attracted to you."
He disagreed. "She came because she was trying to help her brother."
"I believe that was only part of the reason."
The Andorian gave a sly smile and reassessed the Vulcan.
"You've experienced things that interest her," she added.
"She's younger – significantly younger."
"Age is irrelevant."
The Andorian rewarded her with a broader smile. "You only say that because you're older than the pink skin."
An eyebrow cocked at the comment and caused the blue man to chuckle. "You've cheered me up Vulcan." He paused. "I wouldn't have expected it, but then again – you must be used to emotions."
"Living aboard Enterprise for four years has certainly given me insight into them."
He gave a frown. "I was talking about your husband."
"Oh, yes. His are some of the most confusing."
Shran agreed. "I can imagine."
Archer emerged from the bathroom again donning a uniform and a frown. A tiny speck of toilet paper stuck to his left cheek – one that was spotted with blood. Before the Andorian could say anything, T'Pol snaked her hand around his forearm, leaned over and gently pulled at the paper.
Hmmmm.
"Thanks," Archer said, squinting.
"I'll see you on the Bridge," she said.
As the two headed out the door and to the Mess Hall, Shran spoke, hoping to taunt the captain. "You've got a fine woman."
Archer stopped in his tracks. "A few days ago, you lit into her."
The Andorian scowled and his antennae reeled back – offended. "That was a few days ago."
He rolled his eyes in response. The blue man let that gesture go; he had other matters to discuss.
"What was so important that you couldn't wait to speak to me about?" the human asked.
When the two entered the Captain's Mess, Shran made for the ale and pulled out two glasses. Extending one to Archer, he watched the human decline. With a grunt, Shran poured two glasses anyway and slid one in front of the captain, encouraging consumption.
"Women are mystifying."
Archer's shoulders sagged and a sigh escaped his mouth. "This is what was so important?"
"Do you think Jhamel is too young for me? Be honest."
The captain shrugged and shook his head in bewilderment. "I don't know."
"She's nothing like Talas – she doesn't have that fire and passion. No, Jhamel is more refined – serene. I think she's interested in me and I'm attracted to her, but …."
"I don't have time to talk about your love life."
Shran threw the concoction down his throat. A sneer crossed his lips and his eyes narrowed. "You have time."
The captain's hand wrapped around the drink and he sipped it like an Andorian child would.
"Fine. Seems like you might be rushing things. Maybe it's best you let nature take its course," Archer said.
Shran grinned broadly and he tested the captain. "Took you years to hook up with the Vulcan."
"Hmmm."
"Andorians don't have that kind of patience."
"So I've noticed."
Shran slammed another glass of the blue ale. "You've got bags under your eyes. I suppose you and the Mrs. didn't sleep?"
"Something like that." After taking another sip and screwing up his face, he leaned over. "Why did you really ask me here?"
Time to come clean.
"Jhamel said something that bothered me. She said you and the Vulcan may not be married."
The captain squirmed only slightly, but enough to make the Andorian more skeptical of their wedded union.
"She said both of you were uncomfortable, like you might be lying," Shran said.
Archer nearly choked on his drink as he set the glass on the table.
"I don't like to be deceived, Archer. You wouldn't fool me, would you?"
The human stared into his eyes. "No, Shran. I promise, we're married."
The Andorian nodded and looked across the room. "Then you'll let Jhamel scan your mind?"
The captain stood. "That's an invasion of privacy."
"If you are married, then you have nothing to fear."
"I would think you would've been convinced by now," Archer said. His eyebrows raised as if he were alluding to more than what was said.
The remark didn't go unnoticed. "It did look like you were closing in on the throes of passion last night." Pointing his fingers, his antennae wiggled. "I could've stayed. I'd be within my rights, but I thought you deserved to be alone."
"Gee, that's good of you." He said, tossing down the rest of the ale. "So you believe we're married."
"Jhamel's information gives me doubt." As the pink skin opened his mouth, Shran intervened. "She wouldn't lie to me – she's too innocent. I don't have much of a choice. Meet me in my quarters at 1500 hours."
The human stared off into space and nodded blindly.
As Shran was almost out the door, he turned on his heel. "Bring your Vulcan."
TBC
