Unfortunately while turning on the light she saw some of him … exposed. T'Pol promptly averted her eyes, staring away from him toward the door.
"I didn't know you always slept this way."
"You should've. I've slept this way since we've been married," he said. She could feel him furrowing his brow, but didn't look to verify.
"What's wrong?" he asked. His hand reached around her arm and he tried to persuade her to look at him.
Freezing her eyes on the same spot, she shrugged off his hand – afraid what she would see if she turned around.
"I've been trying to tell you that I've planted memories in your mind. You think we're married."
"You keep saying that. We are married."
After a long pause, he noted, "You can turn around."Sneaking a glance, she ascertained he was securely under the covers without embarrassing herself. Only then did she swivel her body and look him in the eyes. As her gaze fell on him, she detected sadness – as if he was hurt; it caused a wrinkle to form between her eyebrows.
"We are married, but it's not what you think."
"You keep saying you're not happy." Cupping her chin, he hoarsely whispered a question. "What can I do to make you more content?"
She went silent for a moment, trying to figure out how to tell him so that he'd understand. It was unfortunate she was too weak – both mentally and physically – to perform another mind meld tonight, it would answer his queries.
"T'Pol?" he asked as he stroked her hair.
"It's nothing you've done … or haven't done. That's simply not the nature of our relationship."
"I don't understand."
"We're not intimate."
"We have been."
She shook her head and stared at the bedspread. "No, I mean … we've never been."
He stared on in bewilderment as she explained it to him.
"We needed to deceive Shran and Jhamel into thinking we have been married for four days because the Aenar was going to scan your mind. Today, beginning at noon, we melded. During that process I introduced false memories into your subconscious. These thoughts make it seem like we care more deeply about each other than we do."
"False memories?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Like what?"
Flattening her lips, she decided to be bold. "For example, as I've stated, we've never been intimate."
He squinted his eyes and produced a lopsided smile. "We were last night."
"That is a false memory."
"That you introduced?" he asked.
"Not exactly that I introduced, but it's something I've led you to believe."
Shaking his head, he stroked her cheek. "Give me another example."
"We've never admitted our feelings for each other."
"Now, that can't be true. I remember telling you how I felt about you four days ago. I remember confessing that I'd fallen in love with you on Coridan. I mean, I guess I'd known even before the Vulcans threatened to recall you, but after you were shot … I …."
An eeriness traveled up T'Pol's spine.
"Are you saying that was a memory that was introduced?" he asked.
Searching for the right words, she finally gave up. "On Coridan we were trapped together and I was wounded by the particle stream from a phase-rifle. That part is accurate. Your memory of your feelings for me is not correct."
"No, I distinctly remember holding your crumpled body in my arms and thinking how much you meant to me. You planted those feelings?"
"Not exactly," she confessed. "I led you to believe your feelings for me began when I was diagnosed with Pa'nar."
Shaking his head, he was quiet as if searching his memory. Finally, he stared into her eyes. "No."
"Jonathan …."
"The way I feel about you is real, T'Pol." He curled a lock of her hair around his finger. "I've thought about you for years. That can't be something you've 'introduced.'"
"It's not possible."
"I've cared for you … loved you … for so long."
Her eyes widened and for the first time in a year her heart thumped loudly in her chest.
"I've fantasized about you for years. Did you 'introduce' specific fantasies into my subconscious?"
An eyebrow raised, but she declined to comment. No.
His mouth drew dangerously close to hers and she could feel his whisper on her lips. "I've dreamed of kissing you … holding you … making love to you for years."
A reaction – a shiver – overtook her body; it was an instinct she couldn't squash and he must've noticed.
His fingers stroked her cheekbone again and she couldn't help but close her eyes. Slowly, his lips touched hers and she released a tiny sigh at the feeling. Before long, their tongues touched, exploring each other's mouth and their fingers worked in each other's hair.
Leaving her mouth, his tongue, lips and teeth played at her throat and she stretched her neck to receive them. All of this … all of this was making it difficult for her to think, and being exhausted certainly didn't help matters.
"If we haven't admitted our feelings for each other, why does this feel so familiar to me?" he whispered into her neck.
"We've done this before," she said.
Kisses traveled up to her ear and he whispered seductively into it. "I thought you said we hadn't been intimate?"
Goosebumps popped up all over her arms and legs as she struggled for how to respond.
"We've pretended to be intimate in order to deceive Shran," she said.
"You mean we've only kissed before?" he asked as their lips momentarily broke apart.
"No."
"More?"
"Yes."
"How much more?" he asked.
Somehow, without her knowledge, his hand had already slid up her waist and swerved along the material of her pajama top.
"Oh," she said. The statement was said more in surprise than excitement, but she could tell he mistook the meaning and permitted his hand to roam freely. As he did, his lips connected with hers again.
It was enough to encourage him to unbutton the first button of her pajamas. Barely catching her breath, she placed her hand over his.
"This isn't right," she said.
"This feels right."
"Just yesterday, you made it clear to me that you didn't want to do anything more because it was inappropriate."
"I don't remember." After pausing for just a moment, he stared into her eyes. "I know … regardless of what you've put inside my head or done to me … that I'm in love with you."
His mouth descended on hers again and the Vulcan was swept up in the moment. After a few minutes of touching lips, they parted.
This has to stop.
At the moment she was about to let him know it was time to end their interlude, he posed a question.
"How do you feel about me?" he asked.
Perplexed. "I doubt Jhamel will scan your mind again. I think I should get some sleep and we should attempt to meld first thing tomorrow. Hopefully by then, we'll both be replenished – mentally and physically – enough to make another attempt. Yesterday you were quite fatigued from the concentration."
"Does that mean you don't feel the same way?"
"Good night," she said. With that, she reached up, turned off the light and lay back on top of the covers.
Shutting her eyes, she hoped to suppress all the emotions that were threatening to gush out. As she nuzzled her cheek into the pillow, the light came back on.
"You didn't answer my question," he said.
Flashing her eyes open, she saw his face was directly above her – it was waiting for an answer.
Restraining a sigh, she spoke. "I am still uncertain whether your feelings are the result of my planted memories."
"I'm not asking you about my feelings, I'm asking about yours."
Blinking into the light, she stared at his features. "I believe you already know what those are."
Archer shook his head and squinted his eyes. "No."
"Good night, Jonathan."
She reached up and turned off the light, leaving him to stare into the dark in bafflement.
Jhamel waited on the bunk as Shran paced around the room for the better half of the day as he questioned her, rapid fire, about her feelings, the pink skin and the Vulcan.
"You said they were deceiving us," Shran said again.
"I felt that way before, yes. But, when I scanned his mind recently I could tell he loved her. It seemed like he was happily married."
"And you have no doubt about that? That pink skin is cunning."
Jhamel, a patient creature, only gave the smallest of sighs. "You've asked me before. I have no doubt that he's happily married and in love."
"And why didn't you scan the Vulcan?"
"Her mind is shielded from me. I could only pick up specific thoughts." The Aenar gave a strange smile. "And even those I could decipher … I'm not sure how she feels."
"Vulcans," he said, probably sneering.
He stopped suddenly in the middle of the room and wheeled around to her. Although she couldn't see the movement, she could sense the wind rushing by and knew his scurrying across the room had ended.
"What?" she asked.
"What could you sense from her?"
"A few things."
"Like …?" He was obviously pleased with the new line of questioning.
"She finds her work here gratifying. She cares for the captain …."
"Is it love?" he asked. "Not that the Vulcans would ever feel or admit to such an emotion."
"I don't know. If I had to label it … I would say the emotion she feels predominantly is confusion."
"Confusion? That makes no sense. About what?"
Jhamel titled her head and stared off into space. "I don't know. Maybe confusion over her feelings for him."
"Why should she be confused about her emotions for him? She's married to him."
"I don't know." Reaching out her hand in midair, she hoped to catch his and was disappointed when instead she felt him rush by again.
"It is about him, though?"
"Yes. It feels as if she's working out her feelings for more than one person. But, I can't say for sure, it was difficult to …."
She could feel the Andorian stop and frown. "Tucker," he said.
Jhamel shrugged. "I don't know."
"I do. The way he was looking at the Vulcan in the meeting – it was as if he's a scorned lover. I wonder if the she has both men wound around her finger. Those logical harlots .…"
"I don't think she's a harlot. I've heard the species is monogamous."
Ignoring her, he continued, "She's tricking more than us; she's fooling Archer."
"I don't think so …."
Sitting down on the bunk, finally, next to her, he said a few words. "Either she's leading on Archer, or she's deceiving me."
The Aenar could pick up a plan bubbling in the Andorian's mind. Hoping to dissuade him, she touched his hand.
"Perhaps it's best you leave them alone."
A hand fell gently on hers, reassuring her. "If the pink skin is in love with her, and she's cheating on him, the least I can do is help him out. And if she's deceiving me, then according to paragraph 14, I have to execute Archer."
Trip couldn't sleep. Instead of wandering into slumber, he spent a lot of time tossing and turning. After completing the paperwork for his transfer and queuing it up for the captain's official approval, he stared at the ceiling wondering if he was doing the right thing.
It was tough telling Captain Archer goodbye. It was just as rough saying so long to Malcolm and the folks in engineering. Somehow, he hadn't ever considered leaving … not until recently. His concentration had been thrown completely out of whack by T'Pol's "hot" and "cold" attitude ever since they'd been intimate a year ago. When he'd back off, she'd pursued him. When he'd acted interested, she didn't want to have anything to do with him.
It was confusing as hell.
Damn, I'll never get to bed.
Slipping into some clothes, he stopped by the Mess Hall to drown his sorrows in a pecan pie – after all, it was Wednesday night. Chef always had his favorite dessert on Wednesday – maybe because Trip had volunteered to fix a few odds and ends in the kitchen on his days off.
Stuffing a fork full of the treat into his mouth, he saw Shran enter the room. Tucker kept his head down – hoping he wouldn't be spotted; the last thing he needed was talking to the little blue guy. Unfortunately he made a beeline toward him.
"Commander Tucker."
Trip gave a sloppy smile – one that had a bit of piecrust stuck to his bottom lip.
"Shran," he said, after swallowing.
The Andorian sat down and eyed the sugary food. Although Trip didn't want any company, his mamma raised him to always be friendly and courteous.
"What's that called?" Shran asked.
"Pecan pie. Highly recommend it."
Curious antennae scoped it out and the man picked up Tucker's plate and put it to his nose, sniffing loudly. Recoiling, he threw it back on the table.
"No, thank you."
Almost disgusted, Trip set down his fork. "Thanks a lot," he grumbled. "What do your people eat?"
"Raw food. That smells like it's been processed and baked."
No accountin' for taste.
"I like … I think it's called Susie," Shran said.
"Sushi." Definitely no accountin' for taste. "They don't have anything like that tonight. I think the rawest thing we got is a salad or cookie dough ice cream."
Antennae perked up at cookie dough ice cream and he marched off to get some. Absent mindedly, Trip resumed eating, having already forgotten Shran snorted at his food. When he came back, and to the engineer's chagrin he did, he awkwardly picked up a spoon and stabbed the food. Trip decided not to correct him.
"You look sad, human."
He shrugged his shoulders. "Just a little blue." His eyes met the Andorian's. "No offense."
"Why are you so upset?" Shran asked.
Unwisely, the engineer said before he could stop his mouth. "I'm transferring."
"I didn't expect that," Shran said. "I thought you and the captain were friends."
"Always looking for opportunities," Trip said. A weak, unconvincing smile planted on his face.
"I bet it's the Vulcan, isn't it?"
The engineer's face must've revealed everything, because the Andorian gave a sly smile.
"I remember from the meeting the other day. You continued to watch her."
"Nah, we're just friends."
Shran leaned over and disagreed. "You gave her a look I've seen before. It was the one Talas gave me before she attacked me – the one before we mated."
Trip winced.
The Andorian pointed with his spoon. "You two … I know you've mated."
"How did you …?"
"It's hard to watch her with him, your friend … your commander?"
He remained quiet.
"I heard the Vulcan was married before Archer."
"She married a guy named Koss. I was at the wedding."
Shran shook his head. "Ouch."
Tell me about it.
"Seems like she continues to hurt you, human," the Andorian said.
He couldn't tell Shran this, but no matter the pain, he'd somehow always envisioned he'd be with T'Pol one day. "I suppose."
"Maybe if you make her jealous, you'll determine where her true feelings lie."
Eyes askance, Trip frowned. "I don't want to come between the captain and his wife."
"I'm not convinced she loves him. I think she's deceiving me and Archer."
"Huh?"
"I mean, I think she's interested in you."
The engineer shook his head. "I don't think so."
"I'm telling you, jealousy is an affective way to determine who her true feelings are for."
What in the hell is he trying to do anyway?
"I think you owe it to yourself and Captain Archer to determine her true feelings. That's all I'm saying. I would think a friend would do that, wouldn't you?"
His antennae perked up slyly and a grin crossed his face; it made Trip immediately suspicious.
No way.
Trip brushed a napkin across his lips and flung it down on the table. "I got a few things to do."
Walking away, he wondered what exactly Shran was up to. Maybe he just hates T'Pol and doesn't want to see her with the captain.
T'Pol was the first to wake. When her eyes opened, she glanced over at Jonathan. The covers had worked themselves to his navel and silently she was thankful they hadn't fallen lower. Quietly pushing herself off the bed, she crossed the room and retrieved her clothing and then walked into the bathroom to shower.
The duty roster had listed both she and the captain had the day off. It would give them plenty of time for another meld. The last one depleted her – drained her enough that she had been concerned about entering Shran's room yesterday; her mental shields had not been as effective as they normally were, which meant the Aenar might have been able to pick up stray thoughts.
Instead of further considering that, she cleared away those problems and avoided thinking about what happened last night and focused only on how she would approach the meld. As she walked out of the bathroom, dressed in casual clothing (a Vulcan robe) and toweling her hair dry, she noticed Jonathan was already up and clothed – thankfully – making the bed.
Chewing the side of his lip, he looked over and then turned his attention back to the bed.
"How'd you sleep?" he asked in a clipped tone.
"Well," she lied. "And yourself?"
"Just dandy." With a huff, he threw a pillow on the bed and turned to her.
He is definitely cross.
"So, how am I supposed to act around you? Since you gave me new memories, exactly what is our relationship?"
This, she wasn't expecting. "I'm your first officer."
"That's all?"
"We're friends."
"Friends."
"Yes."
"Fine," he said. Brushing past her, as if on purpose, he walked to the dresser and retrieved a shirt and a pair of slacks. Stepping toward the bathroom, he hesitated.
"Jonathan?" she asked, grabbing his arm.
"What?" he asked.
"We did this to deceive Shran," she said. "We did this to save your life."
Glaring at her, he finally opened his mouth and mentally she prepared herself to be scolded.
"It's just …," his expression softened and he stared at the ground. "I'm just very confused, T'Pol."
"If we begin the meld right away, it might be less confusing," she whispered. "It will restore your memories."
Furrowing his brow, as if that wasn't necessarily what he wanted, he agreed. "I guess it's for the best."
"I need to meditate beforehand. Perhaps after you've completed your shower?" she asked.
He opened his mouth and she waited for him to speak, but nothing came out. Rather than say anything, he took her hand in his and held it to his clothed chest – directly over his heart.
"I just want you to know how I feel about you won't change."
Before she reply, he turned away and headed to the shower. She spent a few minutes staring at the door, wondering if that was really true or if it was a consequence of their meld. Deciding it wasn't relevant, she sat on the floor, in the lotus position, and freed her mind.
Think about tranquility.
When Archer came out neither exchanged any words, he simply squatted down and sat across from her and folded his legs as he'd done yesterday. Slowly, she opened her eyes and stared into his. Placing her fingers on his psi points, she fell quickly into his mind.
Dodging past all the thoughts that swirled around his brain, she burrowed deep into his subconscious. Because she'd had practice, diving into his mind was almost effortless and as a result of having seen the things that troubled him most, she was able to move past those quickly without becoming distracted.
Visuals came to her mind of the process the two had undergone – the ploy she'd used to make Jonathan think they were truly wedded to each other. She started slowly, showing him sitting in her quarters and melding. For a moment, she thought about hiding the information that happened between them last night, but that would be dishonest. So, she recalled those mental pictures as well – without bias – leaving him to interpret the information as he should or could.
And then verbally, she backed up her thoughts.
"The information I planted into your brain yesterday is invalid – the feelings, the moments together … it was all a deception … a ruse. Those moments and feelings, how we spent our honeymoon cradled in each other's arms, will fall by the way side and you will feel exactly as you did before noon yesterday."
He was silent.
"Do you understand?" she asked.
"Yes."
"We've only been married for three days, not four."
"Three days," he repeated as if being hypnotized.
"And why did we marry?" she asked, testing him.
"So that Jhamel would think we'd been married for four days and hide the fact that we entered a union to fool Shran."
"Correct," she said. "That ruse worked. We no longer need to pretend how we feel for each other."
"No," he whispered. "I can't do that."
"No?" she asked.
Again, a wall worked up between them – an invisible shield that wouldn't let her penetrate his mind further. Stubbornly, her mind bared down on his and she used her telepathic skills to crumble it. And equally defiant, he fought her every moment of the way.
"Don't make this difficult. It's imperative everything is as it was before."
Still, he wouldn't give in. Without hurting him, she continued to will the hurdle down and in one final push, she finally felt the barrier between them fall away. Catching her breath, she flung herself into the space he'd been hiding.
Memories, thoughts and dreams floated by like clouds that formed on Mt. Selaya. Although she didn't want to invade his privacy, almost everything he'd ever thought was available to her mind's eye and without looking she saw a private moment.
He was sitting on his bed, dressed in his uniform – except for his bare feet – stroking a beagle and whispering to the animal.
"Lorian is Trip's son," he said to Porthos.
The dog didn't return any thoughts, which he was grateful for. It'd been one hell of a day. At least he was there by himself. He liked being alone – the silence, allowing his thoughts and dreams to take over. When he was by himself he didn't have to make any decisions – especially those he didn't want to make. Solitude provided him a way to be himself.
The mood felt somber and weary.
The Expanse must've been difficult for him, she thought.
Shaking herself, she veered back toward her task; sidestepping ideas and memories, her voice rang out in the stillness of the room.
"We no longer need to pretend how we feel about each other."
She worked the thought into his mind, almost forcing him to accept it. "It's for the best."
"All right," he whispered, finally giving in.
"Good."
While closing the link with him, in his mind he seemed to chant the words she'd left behind – we no longer need to pretend how we feel about each other. We no longer need to pretend how we feel about each other.
It was odd that idea had difficulty germinating. Opening her eyes, she noticed he was blinking as well.
"Does everything make sense now?" she asked. "The information we discussed."
Jonathan stuffed a hand through his hair and breathed a long sigh. Shifting his eyes from one side to another, she determined he was remembering the events of the past day.
With a tired voice, he made a few comments that sounded somewhere in between a statement and a question. "Shran and Jhamel were convinced."
"Yes."
"You don't think they'll scan me again."
"No."
He nodded. "Three more days."
"That's correct."
Blinking slowly, he whispered to her. "I'm sorry about last night."
"I can understand your confusion."
She could tell he wanted to ague, but was tired.
"You blocked some of your thoughts. In order to restore your mind completely, I had to remove that barrier."
He was quiet.
"You may be weak – humans, from all medical research, have limited telepathic capability. The exercise of throwing a wall between our thoughts must've been difficult."
"I am tired. Humans, huh?"
She decided to be truthful. "I am weary as well."
"I'm going to take a nap …."
"I can retire in my quarters," she suggested.
"You're here; you might as well stay."
"Very well."
She watched Archer stand, teetering a little and then make his way to the bed falling down. Carefully, she walked over and lay on top of the covers facing him.
"I haven't really been sleeping very well since our … marriage," he confessed.
She raised an eyebrow. "Nor have I."
"It's certainly taken it's toll on me. I know I've been edgy. I'm sorry."
"I have also been unsettled."
The two watched each other until she flipped over on her back.
"When you removed that … barrier … in my mind, what did you see?"
"I tried to avoid looking too closely, but I noticed an image in your mind – a reflection of what happened when we met our children, and in your case great-grandchildren, aboard the Enterprise."
He nodded.
With a hushed voice, she continued. "You were reflecting on my child with Trip."
She spoke again after several moments. "I'd forgotten how you were in the Expanse. Isolated. Aloof."
"I know you needed a friend. I'm sorry I wasn't really there. I'm glad Trip was … well … sorta."
"You need not apologize. I should've been there for you as well."
"I don't think I would've welcomed that."
"Why not?"
"T'Pol, I think you should know the reason why I became so distant."
The Vulcan snuggled the back of her head into the pillow and stared at the ceiling. "The mission. I understand."
"Yes, but not just the mission," he whispered.
Snapping her head toward him, she wondered what he meant. And then without warning, he propped himself up on one elbow.
With painstaking slowness, he drew a deep breath and averted his eyes. "I was beginning to let my personal feelings for you get in the way."
"Pardon me?"
"I was letting my friendship for Trip get in the way, too," he said.
"It's understandable. We work closely together – all three of us."
"Right. All three of us."
Her eyes slipped shut and just as she was on the verge of falling asleep, she heard him speak again.
"No, I mean – everything I said last night … everything … was true, T'Pol."
Opening her eyes, she noted he was still on his side watching her. "This is probably not appropriate …."
"No, it's not appropriate. But, it just seems there's no longer the need to pretend, so I wanted to get it out."
'No longer the need to pretend'? she asked herself quoting him and the statement she made during the meld.
"Jonathan, I think something happened in the meld. I …."
"I love you. I have for some time."
Narrowing her eyes, she tried to determine what to say to those words.
"You don't need to say anything. I know where we stand and I've accepted nothing more than friendship will ever happen between us. I'm not sure it can anyway."
As her mouth opened, his computer beeped from across the room indicating there was an urgent message. Smiling weakly, he got up and crossed the room to view the urgent communication. Bringing the information up on his terminal, he frowned and typed in a few commands.
"What was so urgent?" she asked.
"I just approved Trip's transfer. He must've given a head's up to Starfleet. They want me to rendezvous with the Columbia at space dock."
"I can't believe Trip is leaving," said the first officer.
Archer stared at his feet. "No, I guess I can't either. I better give Erika a call and work out the logistics."
"Erika? You mean Captain Hernandez?"
"Uhm, yes. Maybe you can transport Shran and Jhamel to Andoria."
"Can these tasks wait for an hour?"
He shrugged. "I guess. Why?"
"As your first officer, I think you should get some sleep."
"With you?" he asked.
"We're friends," she said.
"Are you sure that's a good idea? I mean … our track record …."
Instead of answering, she settled against her pillow. That thought was worth reflecting on, but not right now. What she focused on instead is how both of them needed some rest.
When he didn't return to bed, she said something succinctly. "Your feelings for me don't change the fact I care about you."
Tipping his eyebrow up only slightly, she corrected herself. "As a friend, of course."
She noticed hesitantly, he joined her side and the two fell asleep next to each other.
TBC
