Archer sat across from Shran thinking this was an awful idea as a blue man poured Andorian ale and instructed the captain how to drink it.
"You have to swallow it whole. Sipping is what Andorian children do."
Following the directions, Archer threw it back and felt his esophagus and stomach burn.
"Strong," he said, catching his breath. By the taste alone, he was guessing this more than 13 alcohol content.
"Isn't that why people drink alcohol – to feel it's effects?" Shran asked.
Archer shrugged. Good point. So he held up his glass for another round and the Andorian was happy to comply.
"Who is this woman you had relations with? Your communications officer? I think her name is … Sato? She's a good looking woman."
Hoshi! Archer shook his head vehemently. "No. You don't know her."
"Oh?"
"Just another woman – not aboard Enterprise." He felt like the Andorian was digging, which made him suspicious.
Shran grumbled under his breath. "Well, the Vulcan certainly has you and Commander Tucker ensnared."
Archer threw down the concoction and put his glass out. "I don't think you'd understand."
Shran shrugged. "What's not to understand – she's attractive … even for a Vulcan. She's female. You work with her closely …."
"No, I mean there's more," Archer said.
A curious pair of antennae waited for the captain to continue. In a rare moment of weakness, the man decided to confess a few things.
"Do Andorians believe that everyone has someone who they're destined to be with – kismet? Someone who's kinda reserved just for them?"
Shran raised his eyebrows. "Andorians laugh at fate – there is no such thing; we create our own destiny. You mean humans believe in fate?"
Archer eyed his glass. "Not all humans and not all the time. I guess, I just ... I have that feeling that I was destined to be with her. It's hard to explain …."
The Andorian poured two more glasses and encouraged him to speak. "I'm listening, pink skin."
"I mean … I've had women turn me down and I've ended relationships. None of them ever felt quite … complete. I always felt as if I was waiting for one woman. The right one."
"Andorians would never believe such fantasies. You are born, you mate, sometimes you have offspring and then you die."
"Sounds like a rough life."
"We have long life spans, Captain, but, very few of my species live to a ripe old age. Andorians live hard and we enjoy it."
Archer mused on those words and gulped the ale.
Shran was quick to fill Archer's glass and followed up on the human's feelings. "Well, if you think your Vulcan is the one, then I'm glad you married her."
Oh right.
"So, when she found out about this other woman in your past, she became angry?"
"Yeah."
"It's your past. I would think she'd be logical enough to know that, especially if you've accepted hers – ex-husbands and ex-lovers."
Can't disagree with him there.
"Well, it's obvious she's in love with you. Why else would she care?"
I don't know.
Shran then added. "Although, I can't figure out how Commander Tucker fits into this now."
"No, I can't either."
Shran raised his white brows. "So, you admit your Vulcan might be interested in him?"
"I don't think so." After shoving down his fourth drink, his lips became looser than he would've wanted. "She'd never show Trip affection if she thought it meant I could be killed … even if she'd wanted to."
At saying, "even if she'd wanted to" his heart sank a little. Shran set his glass down heavily as Archer wondered why he'd divulged that.
"You're in a predicament, my friend," the Andorian said.
"Maybe I should just see her and explain it all," Archer offered up.
Shran shook his head. "Noooo. That's weakness. The Vulcan will never allow you to mate with her again."
The captain furrowed his brow.
Shran continued. "Women demand strength. Because women are stronger ... at least Andorian women ... you must bluff them into thinking you're the superior gender."
"I don't think really either gender is superior."
"Humans," said Shran. After decanting more ale for both of them, he sat down with a thud. "Although Jhamel seems to like sensitivity. I never thought I'd care for that in a woman."
"You two are …?"
Shran hung his head down ever so slightly and his antennae curled in timidity.
"No. You might laugh at me, but … I don't want to take advantage of her. She's young, naïve and needs a shoulder to cry on. I'd hate to erode her trust that with rude behavior."
"I'm not laughing," Archer reassured.
"We've slept together, but there's never been anything untoward."
"I understand." More than you think.
"Women are confusing – no matter if they're blue, pink or green."
Archer gave a low chuckle and a sigh. "I agree."
"So, what are you going to do about your Vulcan?"
"T'Pol," he corrected Shran.
"That's the one."
"I don't know."
"I think she'll contact Tucker," Shran said.
"What do you mean?"
"Your engineer is leaving tomorrow, right?"
"Yeah."
"Maybe she'd want to see him before he goes. Sometimes goodbyes turn into sex. I've said goodbye to a few women before."
Becoming a little huffy, he snapped. "I said she's not like that."
The Andorian frowned, his antennae drooping. "Pink skin, I hope I'm wrong. I'd hate to execute a man with a broken heart."
As Archer lifted the glass to his lips, he stewed on that information.
T'Pol was in her room, sitting on her bed wondering about everything that had occurred.
I let myself become angry, she admitted.
That wasn't like her. Normally, she would be neutral to information provided her, but somehow what she'd learned about the short relationship he had with Captain Hernandez bothered her. A lot.
With a near frown, she tried to get a handle on her emotions.
Drawing her legs up to her, she thought about the accusation he'd leveled at her – the one about "screwing" around with officers that reported to her. She'd been agitated because it was true. The commander was handsome, sweet, caring and available. They'd both needed someone to turn to – physically, mentally and emotionally – and he'd been there with open arms. Jonathan wasn't available; in fact in the Expanse he was never available. At the time, she assumed he hadn't wanted anything to do with anyone, but finding out he'd cared about her made her feel guiltier about her liaison with Trip.
It's happened. There is nothing I can do, or would want to do, about the past.
And Jonathan can't do anything about his – the past, with Captain Hernandez has already happened.
If he was willing to accept her past; she would have to accept his … even if she would find discomfort meeting or working with the captain of the Columbia.
Deciding to get some sleep, she changed into a pair of pajamas she kept in the drawer and laid down in her own bed. It felt large and she missed the gentle rumbling that whistled through Jonathan's nose on a nightly basis. Although it kept her up, along with her feelings, it sounded peaceful and serene. When she heard that noise, she knew he was sleeping soundly – and somehow that comforted her.
After attempting to meditate, without success, trying to read more of the Kir'Shara, without success and hoping to at least get some work done, without success, she eventually decided to lie down and stare at the ceiling hoping to feel drowsy. Only five minutes into the futile exercise, she received a welcome distraction as the door chimed. Sliding on her robe, she answered the door.
It must be Jonathan.
Restraining her surprise, she looked at the Aenar. "Jhamel?"
"I know you wish we'd been returned to the surface earlier today; I do, too. I also wanted to say I'm sorry for gathering a few of your feelings. Shran told me how private Vulcans are."
T'Pol waved her hand and offered the young woman to enter. She noted how carefully the woman sat on the end of the bed – although she was blind, she managed to work out the lay of the room well.
"I've known Shran for four years. It's difficult to reason with him."
The Aenar smiled sweetly, obviously enamored with the Andorian.
T'Pol sat next to her. "And, you're a powerful telepath. I doubt you were able to avoid my thoughts."
"But, I shouldn't have told him."
The Vulcan looked down at the floor for a few minutes.
"I know one of the things that concerned you when I picked up thoughts from your mind. You wondered if he really did care about you."
An eyebrow tipped at the comment. And before she could actually question it, Jhamel spoke again.
"He does."
"I know," T'Pol said.
"And you care about him."
"Of course. He's my husband."
Hesitating for a few minutes, the young woman spoke. "I don't believe Commander Tucker has anything to do with your confusion."
"No. I tried to explain that Shran."
"You're right; it's difficult to reason with him."
T'Pol was silent.
"I think I understand what your confusion is …."
"Oh?" the Vulcan asked.
"You say you care about your husband, and I believe you do. But … something inside of you questions that feeling."
"It's complicated. Vulcans do not share their feelings with others. We find emotions … distasteful."
"I think that's part of it."
"I assure you. That is it in its entirety."
The Aenar gave a little frown. "I don't know very much about Vulcans, but I would think if you loved him you would accept that especially since you married him."
A knot formed between the Vulcan's brows.
"Sometimes relationships are simple if you allow them to be," Jhamel said.
"You've come to talk me into 'accepting' my emotions?"
"No. When the captain came by earlier, I was able to see some of his thoughts. I felt deception again without reading his mind. I believe I understand what that is."
The Vulcan's eyes widened.
"I think you did marry because of the challenge."
T'Pol was quiet, working through the best way to negate it or explain it away.
"I couldn't tell Shran. I've come to understand that despite his need for revenge, he doesn't want to kill the captain. He considers him a friend. And, strangely, the captain considers him one as well."
"It was my idea," T'Pol said. "I married the captain without his knowledge."
"Why?"
"Shran is more skilled at combat; it was evident he'd kill Captain Archer."
"You married him to protect him?"
"Yes."
"The two of you have pretended to be married ever since."
"Yes."
"You've lived with him and slept with him merely to fool Shran." It wasn't a question.
"Yes. I don't want Captain Archer to die."
"It's odd that you two should be in love and be married, but you deny those feelings and deny sharing it with him."
The Vulcan stood, ready to end the conversation. "Vulcans do not feel love."
Acting as if she'd offended the Vulcan, the Aenar pouted. "I'm sorry."
"You're not going to tell Shran? He'd kill Jonathan, and I can't allow that to happen." She'd leveled the statement as somewhere between a request and a threat.
"I don't want Shran to be imprisoned. I know if Shran found out, you'd call security and put him in a cell until we reached Andoria." Before T'Pol could say anything, the young woman spoke. "I don't need to be a telepath to know that."
T'Pol didn't reply.
Jhamel said, "I think we're at an impasse."
T'Pol nodded. Logical.
"Shran is growing more suspicious. Perhaps, even though Vulcans don't feel love, you can pretend to."
Standing, the Aenar produced a peculiar smile and headed out the door. Considering her options, T'Pol thought maybe she'd return to Archer's room to show the Andorian that she, although fighting, was still married to Archer and supported him.
Without thinking about the comments Jhamel made, she gathered a few items and prepared herself mentally to being with Jonathan again. Undoubtedly the man would still be angry or emotional. It was best she rid herself of emotion before rejoining him and slipping into the covers next to his warm body.
Fixing her robe about her, T'Pol was about to walk out when her door chimed.
Sliding it open, she saw the very last person she'd expected to pay her a visit today.
"Trip?"
He stared at the Vulcan with something like affection – after all, she was in her robe – and then let his face fall. This wasn't that kind of visit; he had other things in mind.
"I thought you might be up this late and I took a chance of you being here."
"What do you need?"
"God, T'Pol, I hate to ask you this, but … I've been having trouble sleeping for a few days and I have Engineering duty tomorrow. Right afterward I transfer to the Columbia."
That had been mostly true. There was a smidgen of his request that wanted the woman just to touch him and give him the opportunity to talk with her again before he left.
The Vulcan, allowed him to enter and crossed her arms. "Trip …."
"I promise, that's it. Just a little neuropressure and I won't bother you."
T'Pol shot her eyes to the floor, obviously considering.
"Just think – you won't have to ever provide it to me again."
That seemed to change her mind.
"All right. Remove your shirt and shoes, and sit down on the bed."
Relieved he'd finally catch a few winks, he hurried out of the clothes she'd asked him to take off and headed for her bed. As he lay down, he remembered how cool her sheets were and how icy her hands were on his back. It was something he'd missed for months.
Funny, I never thought I'd miss it.
"Ya know, I think we made a pretty good team you and me."
T'Pol seemed to keep her thoughts to herself.
"You and I … we figured out how to destroy the spheres together, created the telepresence and came up with Lorian."
"Lorian was in another reality. Not the one we currently live in."
"It seemed like the past to me."
Her hands left his back and he could tell she was becoming uncomfortable, so he changed the subject.
"Gonna be at the party tomorrow night? Mal told me you were the only one who hadn't sent in your acceptance."
She placed her hands along his spine and pushed. Suddenly, his eyes felt droopy. Stifling a yawn, he continued.
"Gonna be a heck of a shindig. My mom gave Chef a recipe for key lime pie that'll blow you out of the water. And, I know how you like desserts."
"I am on duty during that time. I'm unsure I should leave the Bridge. I know Captain Archer would like to attend your party …."
He frowned. "Well, I was kinda hoping you would. Hell, even Captain Hernandez will be there."
"What?" the Vulcan asked.
"You know, my new CO as of 1700 hours tomorrow. Cap'n suggested I invite her and get to know her."
Suddenly the woman became silent.
As her fingers pressed into a sensitive region, he moaned. "That's the one … right there."
Spending a few minutes working that area, he couldn't help releasing a deep sigh.
"I think perhaps you feel better?" she asked.
Trip nodded. "Can I return the favor?"
He saw the Vulcan hesitate, as if weighing her options. The woman had dark green circles under her eyes and look like she hadn't slept well in about a week. Just as he felt like she was about to accept, she declined.
"No, thank you."
"You didn't use to mind before."
"I don't mind. I don't need it."
Trip nodded. "It's Captain Archer, isn't it?"
"It's no one. I don't require it tonight."
He slipped on his shoes and she placed a hand on his shoulder.
"I want you to know I care about you, Trip. I wish you wouldn't leave for the Columbia."
His jaw dropped. This is the most caring she's ever been.
"You've, after all this time, become a valued friend."
He smiled. "I appreciate that. I care about you, too."
The moment he felt like he might try to put his lips on hers, she continued.
"A relationship … a sexual one … is out of the question, but friendship is not."
His smile slid down along his face. "You might change your mind. We've dancing around each other for a year. You even told me you and Koss hadn't …."
"We've relied on each other, helped each other …. You're important to me, I cannot deny that and doing so would be illogical. But, we can only be friends."
"If I'm so important to you and you don't mind touching my bare shoulder," he said, looking over to see her hand still there, "then are you sure you want to be just friends? I think … helping each other is probably what made me fall in love with you."
Slowly, she removed her hand. "I'm sorry I hurt you. That was not my intention."
"I noticed you didn't answer my question."
"I believe I already have."
With a huff, he grabbed his shirt and headed for the door. As he walked out, he put it on and headed down the corridor thinking maybe Shran and Mal were right.
She needs a little convincing.
Archer and Shran stumbled down the corridor and the captain had to admit, he felt a little better. Of course, he wasn't sure if it was the fact he was drunk or whether the Andorian managed to cheer him up. As the two were about to part ways and call it a night, Trip walked out of T'Pol's room, putting his shirt on, and headed down to the opposite end of the corridor toward his room. It was clear the engineer didn't see the two, but it was obvious both men saw him.
Shran's head whipped around to the captain. "I told you to watch her like a greel!"
"There's gotta be some explanation …."
The Andorian looked at his watch. "What explanation? It's 0217 the night before he transfers to another ship. They were lovers and he's still infatuated with her."
"T'Pol wouldn't …."
"She must've thrown you over, pink skin."
"No …."
"It looks like Tucker said goodbye after all. Maybe he said goodbye a few times; we've been drinking for a while."
Archer snarled. "Shut up."
The Andorian gave an enormous frown and stared at Archer who'd hung his head to his chest in defeat.
"Do you want to decide your time for execution now?" Shran asked.
Archer suddenly jerked his head up. "No. T'Pol would never betray me."
"Seems like the Vulcan just did."
"We don't know for sure …."
As the two argued outside in the hall about what to do, T'Pol emerged wearing a robe and carrying a small bag of items. Giving a flick of the brow, she stared at the two men.
"Jonathan, I was about to head to our room."
"Were you?" he asked.
The two stared at each other silently.
Shran said, "We saw Commander Tucker leave your room just now."
The Vulcan's eyes fled to Archer, who suddenly had eyes planted firmly at his feet.
"Jonathan, I would never …."
Suddenly the human became agitated and walked away, ignoring her comment. Shran shook his head.
"I provided Commander Tucker neuropressure. That is all. You can ask him."
"I've never heard of that and I've been studying up on your species for sometime," he said.
"It's a Vulcan art where you tap along the nervous system to induce sleep."
"Bare skin? How convenient."
"It's a medical treatment."
He shook his head. "Touching him like that means you've violated Andorian law and means I have to kill your husband."
"No. I've indicated it is a medical procedure. You can ask Dr. Phlox."
Vulcans. Shaking his head in disgust, he decided to throw a quip at her. "I hope you're happy, you just signed Archer's death warrant."
As he turned away, she grabbed his arm. "Don't do this. I want a chance to explain."
He tried to shrug off her arm, which forced her to grab tighter. "I want a chance to explain!"
His antennae reared back and he stared the logical creature in the eyes.
Shran's lip curled. "All right. Come to my room tomorrow morning at 1000 so that Jhamel can scan your mind."
She seemed to sigh in relief until he warned her. "And this time you'll have to let down your shields!"
She agreed and let his arm go. As he turned down the hall, he looked directly at her.
"Vulcan, you broke his heart." With that, he marched down the hall feeling that the Vulcan was left with the one thing he knew she felt: guilt.
Betrayed. It was the one word that chanted in his mind and resonated there. Stubbornly, he paced around his room wondering silently what really happened. The Andorian had him completely convinced, despite his own ability to reason, that T'Pol was in love with Trip.
I guess I can understand. I guess.
They'd had a relationship in the Expanse, T'Pol admitted as much. Trip had given her lost puppy dog stares for months and the engineer was always a hit with women.
Everything would've been easier if he'd just fought Shran. Everything would've been easier. He wouldn't have had to share close quarters with T'Pol; he wouldn't have admitted his feelings; and as silly as it sounded he wouldn't have had put his heart out to be stomped on.
Fuck it.
It's usually when he was most hurt than he resorted to what he'd heard through the rumor mill his crew call – Airlock Archer. It was the guy who remained aloof and untouchable, barked orders and ignored any pain or suffering hurled in his direction. Numb.
Maybe it's just the alcohol.
When he'd finished changing for bed, washing his face, smearing on his face cream and brushing his teeth, he stumbled over to his bed and climbed in. After pressing a button to darken the room he stared out the window instead of lying down.
The door opened and closed.
"Jonathan?"
He knew who it was.
"I think we're beyond trying to make Shran believe we're married," he said to the window.
"It's not what you think."
"I don't really care."
"He came to me for neuropressure."
"How nice of you to oblige him," he said sarcastically.
"Trip said he hasn't been sleeping well for days. I think he probably hasn't been sleeping for weeks."
He's not the only one.
He could hear her approach the bed, which made him fidget with discomfort.
"I would never do anything to cause your execution."
That, he did know. But, somewhere deep down he thought her hormones got the better of her and that she was careless.
After more than a minute of silence, he wondered whether she was still there until she spoke.
"Jhamel already knows."
He turned his head enough for her to hear him clearly without looking at her. "Is that why you had a rendezvous with Trip?"
Satisfied, he stared back out the window. Expecting to hear her footsteps march to the door, he was startled when she sat on the bed.
"We weren't intimate." Pausing for a few seconds, she clarified. "I would never to anything to hurt you."
Too late. Ignoring her, he continued to look out the window at the stars rushing past and the ones that stayed fixed in the distance; it was soothing.
She gave the faintest of sighs. Reaching her hand on his arm, she urged him to discuss things.
"I want to know what's on your mind," she said – even using an idiom. "Don't continue to shun me."
She must not have known that no one holds a grudge like Jonathan Archer.
"You're not going to say anything?" she asked.
In a sadistic way, he was pleased he was testing her Vulcan patience. Finally, he spoke using the voice he reserved for captain – not the one he frequently used with her alone.
"We have a long day tomorrow. I suggest we both get our rest," he said.
Stiffening a little, she responded in kind.
"I meet with Shran and Jhamel tomorrow at 1000. The commander suggested she scan my mind."
"Didn't you say she knows?" he asked.
"Yes, but … I believe I should for Shran's benefit. The Aenar and I have come to an … understanding. I know she will continue with the ruse."
"Fine." Somehow, he doubted he would be executed. For some reason he didn't think the Andorian would actually perform the feat.
A few more moments passed, until T'Pol broke the stillness. "Jonathan, look at me."
Stubbornly, he stared at the window, wondering when she'd leave.
"Please," she asked. When he didn't comply she took her fingers to his face and turned his chin. As he looked at her, her hand fell away.
Her eyes were sad and she'd come as close to frowning as he'd probably seen in some time. It was why he softened.
"You've been trying to tell me for days how you feel, but I wasn't listening. I guess I've been wrapped up in playing a part – being your husband – that I hadn't been just fooling Shran, I've been deceiving myself."
When she didn't reply, he took it for more than just confirmation.
"I appreciate everything you've done for me. I know it wasn't easy living with a human … with me."
Her mouth opened by centimeters and he waited for her to speak, but when sound didn't come out, he decided to continue.
"I'm not sure how Vulcans become divorced, but … I'll need to call my attorney tomorrow night." Trying to inject a bit of humor, he smiled. "You don't have to worry about me suing for alimony."
He gathered she understood the joke, but she ignored it.
"Since we weren't married by a priest and no bond has formed, there is nothing that is required of me," she said.
The remnants of Surak's katra provided only the most basic details of a bond, but enabled him to understand how she would end the marriage.
"Right," he said. "We can divorce at 2300?"
"Yes," she said. "That was the time of our wedding."
"Fine. You can collect your things tomorrow night if you want."
"Very well. Perhaps after the farewell party?"
"Why not," he said.
Getting up and tucking her robe closer to her, she stared at him a little longer. "Good night."
"Yeah," he said.
Turning his head back to the window, he continued to stare out long after the door closed.
TBC
