Part 11
T'Pol opened her eyes and sighed in relief. The affects of Pon Farr were beginning to wane finally. The madness – the need to laugh and cry at the same time – took its toll on her; she felt emotionally drained. The need to mate tickled her insides, but didn't scorch and burn as if had before. It teased her body and mind just beyond reach.
Turning to the man laying next to her, she gazed at him. He was spotted with little bruises, mostly caused from her lips and nails. Larger contusions spread down his temples, most likely from a mind meld, as if her fingers gripped his face tightly, hoping to get a centimeter deeper in his mind. For his sake, she was glad everything was under control. Everything she had undergone must have been frightening to him; it certainly was to her.
As if summoned, Archer woke up in a start.
"What?" he asked.
For the first time in two days, she could speak in English.
"I didn't mean to wake you."
He gave a silent nod and seemed to recall some of her thoughts.
Fascinating. "I was merely musing on the decline of my … need," she said.
Blowing out a sigh of relief, she could hear him quietly wonder how much more his body could take.
I need a vacation from my vacation, he thought.
Before she could question him, he spoke honestly to her. "Most of it was … enjoyable."
"I thought so as well."
Instead of attacking his lips as she would've less than 24 hours earlier, she held out two fingers, which he happily took. As her mouth trembled at forming a few words, he seemed to anticipate her thoughts.
"I'm okay," he whispered.
She could tell he was mostly truthful. His back was sore, his head throbbed and he felt nearly exhausted as if opening his eyes was a chore … but he was unharmed. These symptoms of mating were common; in fact her own body ached.
"You okay?" he asked.
"Yes."
Something about the interaction made her wonder if her bond was growing in strength rather than dissipating. It caused her eyebrow to crest in the middle of her forehead and her eyes to turn dull.
"It does feel stronger," he said.
He didn't have to.
Nuzzling against him, she laid her head on his chest and exhaled deeply. Seemingly bemused, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and brought her closer to him.
"You weren't sure whether our bond was permanent?" he asked.
"I had … doubts."
"And now?"
"No. You?"
"No."
The two were silent as she searched his thoughts.
"I feel … complete," he said. "Like I know this is going to sound strange like my soul is intertwined with yours."
"Always touching … and touched."
She felt his fingers mindlessly glide through her hair. "I think I understand."
"The bond is a mystery even to Vulcans." As if divulging state secrets, she hesitated until she felt him mentally nudge her.
"On rare occasions, a Vulcan who has been bonded to another at childhood hears the thoughts of another instead. Priests believe that it is two katras searching for each other, seeking unification."
"Soul mates?" he asked, smiling.
She reflected on the thought. "Perhaps."
"Why would these two katras search for each other?" he asked.
"For a logical purpose, no doubt."
"No doubt," he said, teasingly.
Rather than stiffen at the remark, her mind was amused. And she gathered he could tell, because he gave a purring laugh and snuggled her to him.
"Do you think our katras sought each other?"
"Unknown. I don't have enough evidence to come up with an educated opinion."
So much for pillow talk, he thought.
"I do believe in many ways we've overcome a great deal to be here … with each other – prejudice, command, friendship, other relationships …."
He agreed.
Enjoying the moment, she pressed her face more firmly against his chest and listened to the rumbling of his heartbeat. Reminiscing, she thought about the time he'd comforted her … when he first took her to bed. There was a pang that formed deep within her belly as she remembered being unable to choose him, and yet knowing he was the choice. Finally, after a long period of silence between the two, she spoke into the still air.
"Perhaps my katra was not searching for you, but I am pleased it found you nonetheless. You mean a great deal to me."
As he was about to answer her, she interrupted him. "Don't speak. You should know my feelings without reciprocating."
Answering her without words, he pressed his lips to her the crown of her head and then she felt herself drift away to sleep.
A knock on the door woke T'Pol up. Deciding not to stir her sleeping lover, she threw on a robe and headed for the door.
If it is a Vulcan male, I will not answer, she thought. Although my time is passing, the cycle is not complete.
With refrained surprise, T'Pol answered the door.
"V'Lin?"
The tiny woman with gray hair's eyes sparkled. "Good morning." At T'Pol's confusion, the aunt spoke again. "Well, that is how Earthlings great each other … is it not?"
T'Pol's eyes lit with amusement. "It is."
"I take it Jonathan is asleep?" V'Lin asked.
T'Pol nodded and bade her aunt welcome anyway.
"I take it you feel better?" she asked.
"Yes," T'Pol said.
She led her relative into the kitchen and fixed Vulcan tea using raw narah root that grew in that region. After the tea boiled, steeped and served, her aunt spoke.
"I have not had narah root tea in ages. Not since your mother died."
T'Pol glanced down at her mug and stirred it with something that resembled an Earthen spoon.
"In your mind I saw you and Jonathan had been friends for some time," V'Lin said.
T'Pol agreed. "Yes."
"There was another you felt … strong about … another human?"
T'Pol's eyes met the floor. "Yes."
"You melded with him?"
T'Pol shifted her weight and kept her eyes on the ground. "Yes."
"You had sexual relations with this man?" she asked.
T'Pol went silent.
V'Lin stared into her tea. "I'll take that for a 'yes.'"
"You are making a point?" T'Pol asked.
"I know that Sovok will not look at that information favorably. Mating with your chosen one is one matter … but with two aliens …."
T'Pol could feel her aunt's stare as she drank her tea.
"What happened?" V'Lin asked.
"Trip and I cared for each other, but we were not … compatible. After he ended our relationship, Jonathan made his feelings for me known."
"Trip?" she questioned.
T'Pol explained. "That is the other human's name."
V'Lin blinked in confusion. "I believed trip to mean an excursion or to fall."
"It's a nickname."
The older Vulcan poked an eyebrow at the comment and then continued with her line of questioning.
"After Jonathan made his feelings known, you switched mates?" V'Lin asked.
"Yes, but … it was not that simple."
"Then what happened?"
T'Pol's mouth quivered only for a moment, before she was happily interrupted.
"She fell in love with me," Archer said, smiling. He walked stiffly into the kitchen and stood beside T'Pol.
"Did I disturb you?" T'Pol asked.
"No," he said.
V'Lin straightened. "I was mentioning that Sovok will glean this information about … Trip."
T'Pol warily looked at her mate, who even after all this time, hurled a frown at the concept.
"It was more than six months ago," Archer replied.
"Six months is not very long to a Vulcan."
"It doesn't matter to me," he said.
T'Pol couldn't help but notice V'Lin furrow her brows slightly.
"On the contrary, I believe it concerns you still," the older woman said. He was silent as the woman explained more information. "Sovok will use this against you. Your next challenge will not be as easy as the one you faced at Mt. Selaya. And as the guardian of the family, he has every right to be concerned about T'Pol's welfare if she bonds with you."
Archer stared into her eyes. "She has bonded with me."
"It could be temporary," the aunt said.
"It has strengthened," T'Pol whispered.
"Can you end it?" V'Lin asked.
"I do not wish to."
V'Lin became silent.
"Isn't there something we can do to bypass the challenge? If we choose each other, why should it be Sovok's problem?" Archer asked.
The matron folded her arms together and said with the most stoic voice T'Pol had heard her muster: "It is the Vulcan way."
Before Archer could pepper her with questions, which he was on the verge of doing, T'Pol reached her hand around his arm to quiet him. The aunt seemed satisfied with the lack of objection.
"Are you well enough to continue the challenge?" V'Lin asked.
T'Pol gave a slight nod as Archer gave a sideways glance to her.
I can feel your want still, T'Pol. Do you really think it's wise to continue?
"I want this matter settled," she said.
It's not like you to be so impatient. Why rush into this?
With a little more force, her mind said again, I want this matter settled. Please. If we're forced to break our bond it's better that it happens sooner rather than allow more time to pass by.
Break our bond? She could tell he hadn't accepted that was a possible outcome. Why can't we just disregard the challenges and marry without your family's approval?
V'Lin interrupted them. "Then I will contact Sovok. Is tonight enough time for you both to collect yourselves?"
T'Pol spoke up. "Yes."
Wait a second ….
"I suggest you rest as much as possible," V'Lin said. Leaning over, she produced a smile in her eyes for the human. "I'm pleased to see you're recuperating."
"Thank you for your help."
T'Pol walked away with V'Lin, leaving a mildly displeased captain to brood in the kitchen. As the aunt was about to leave, she threw her niece a look of deep concern.
"You care for him deeply. You should prepare yourself for the possibility he may not be your bondmate for long."
T'Pol almost frowned. "There is no other katra mine could be attached to."
V'Lin nodded slowly. "I hope you're right."
As the door closed, T'Pol took three breaths and then stared at the ground. A sense of foreboding passed over her. Leaning against the door, she hoped Jonathan would pass the next challenge.
Archer and T'Pol appeared at Sovok and Saaya's house on time. Nearly the entire way there, T'Pol had silently worried about her aunt's warning; she'd been concerned about how difficult the challenge would be, whether or not her relationship with Trip would come up and whether Archer was prepared to handle it.
To reassure her, he placed a hand on her knee as she parked the shuttle.
Don't worry.
She refrained from sighing.
Archer, wearing the robes T'Pol purchased for him only days before, headed out of the shuttle and toward the house. Just as T'Pol showed up at his side, V'Lin answered the door. The look in her eye told the younger Vulcan just how serious this challenge was.
It was scheduled after dinner, at a time of night when Vulcans accepted few visitors. In fact, by the time scheduled, T'Pol wondered if the test would take all night. She wasn't asked to bring an overnight bag, but when Sovok contacted her to make the arrangements, he'd suggested the two meditate thoroughly. And somehow she got the idea it wasn't to protect his family from emotions.
As T'Pol entered the house, she felt the solemnity of the occasion and noticed from Jonathan's thoughts he felt the same seriousness.
T'Pol bowed to her uncle, watching her mate do the same. "Greetings."
Sovok, raised his hand. "Greetings."
Saaya appeared behind him, something that looked like a small frown forming on her face.
"T'Pol. Archer."
They gave her the Vulcan salute.
Sovok pointed to a pillow on the other end of the room. "Sit there, Archer."
Saaya helped him remove his robe and he stalked over to the corner and seated himself. V'Lin scooted a little closer to T'Pol.
"We must ask that you allow Sovok to continue tonight, no matter what you see and hear."
A furrow worked across her brow. "I don't understand."
Sovok removed his robe and walked over to sit on a pillow opposite. "I will perform the Glu-Nohv."
T'Pol raised her brow. "With Jonathan?"
Glu-Nohv?
T'Pol hesitated, her lips trembling only for a moment. "It's a mind meld that penetrates to the psyche … the essence … of one's katra."
"Is it painful?" Archer asked.
I have never experienced it, T'Pol thought. This is … quite rare.
Sovok warmed his hands. "It can be excruciating for some. I recommend you do not resist."
V'Lin added with some urgency in her voice. "Jonathan, that is imperative. No matter what he unearths, allow him to continue until the meld is closed."
Saaya added a few words quietly in the background. "You are sharing your innermost thoughts with your family, who will know everything about you …."
Jonathan?
Archer smirked away T'Pol's worry. I'll be fine.
Despite his words, she could tell he didn't welcome an invasion of his privacy, but decided if this was what it meant to prove he was T'Pol's choice, he'd put up with it.
V'Lin turned to T'Pol. "Do we have your word you will let Sovok continue?"
Archer reasserted, I'll be fine.
You are a private man. This meld suggests he will uncover things you want no one else to see.
He took a small breath and nodded. I know.
With trepidation in her eyes, she agreed. "You have my word."
"Then I will begin," Sovok said.
Carefully, he placed his fingers along Archer's already bruised temple and suddenly the two were silent.
Almost immediately through her link, T'Pol could feel Archer's pain. The contusions along his hairline buzzed and hummed. Instead of retreating, Sovok pressed his other hand to Archer's temple and the human gave a soft groan.
T'Pol's left foot involuntarily fell forward as V'Lin grabbed her wrist.
"You gave your word."
She stared at her aunt and then retrieved her hand slowly. "I did."
Sovok's low voice rumbled into the room.
"I see into your soul – your pain, your fear. I will uncover everything. Open up to me."
Archer gasped as T'Pol felt the sharp roar as if her uncle was taking a can opener to the captain's head and ripping it open to poke and prod at the contents.
"Yes," Sovok said. "You fear many things – your ship being destroyed, the inability to make a decision … especially the right one, something happening to your crew, something happening to a friend, something happening to T'Pol. You fear yourself …."
T'Pol saw Jonathan looking into a mirror – black, like the darkest shadows on a night that only produced a sliver of a moon. Rather than look at his own visage further, he turned from it – disgusted.
She knew this was Archer from the Expanse. It was a man who'd sacrificed everything – his position, his friends and his soul to protect Earth.
"Yes, you fear yourself. Fascinating," Sovok said.
T'Pol watched Sovok lean forward a little. Swooning a little, she felt V'Lin help her sit; her mental connection to Jonathan was like a rope caught around her foot dragging her under the tow.
"Yes, you fear what you became in the Expanse. The people you stranded there … all those innocent people."
"Oh God," Archer whispered.
As if experiencing it herself, she witnessed when the idea sparked. He was in the Command Center, and she'd just revealed the time necessary to catch up with Degra. The ETA to meet the ship was later … much later than the Xindi would've waited.
Like Oppenheimer or Einstein must've felt – almost in a flash he realized the answer: steal the warp coil. Immediately, he dismissed it. But, as he passed the wreckage that was his ship and skulked into the ruins that used to be his room, the idea chanted and wormed inside his brain.
"No," he said aloud. As he sat down and stared into a darkened room.
His own voice, the one he'd listened to in the Expanse answered him back. "Oh, yes. You'll do anything to save Earth. You said so yourself, 'Whatever it takes.'"
"No. Isn't it bad enough you've cloned your friend and then killed him? Worse, you've condemned people to death – even your own crew? What about your ethics? Your morality? Your soul?"
"Saving humanity is your mission. Your soul be damned."
Having the answer – a bonafide way to save his crew and planet – made the decision much easier than it should've been. As Phlox entered his room, he put the finishing touches on the plan to pirate a ship.
"You fear you allowed your ship to be destroyed after you made a mistake that T'Pol encouraged you not to make," Sovok said.
"I don't want you to die," Archer whispered. They were the words she herself had spoken to him before he entered the Insectoid ship and sped away to Azati Prime. It was before his mission went awry.
T'Pol felt a rush of emotion and then it quieted like a sea at low tide, holding itself at bay.
"You fear this mistake cost the lives of your crew."
The captain rattled off the names of the crewmembers who'd died as if he'd made a point of memorizing them. "Crewman Taylor, Crewman Rodriguez, Ensign Stark …."
Sovok raised a brow. "You fear that you weren't ready for this assignment. You sometimes wonder if your father's friend didn't promote you before you were ready."
Archer stiffened.
She saw into his mind again: Admiral Forrest smiled brilliantly as he offered the fourth pip to Archer's uniform. As the captain straightened and saluted, Max beamed at the new captain.
"Your father would be proud," he whispered, lower than anyone could hear.
Although a smile graced Jonathan's lips, the comment made him wonder whether he deserved to sit in the captain's seat. A.G. was 10-years older with 10-years more experience. Gardner, nearly A.G.'s age, was the man the Vulcans wanted; they'd argued his serene temperament would bode well for Earth. But, instead, Forrest had chosen him. And seemingly for no apparent reason, none that he could speculate on anyway.
Sovok probed deeper and T'Pol's mind clouded as if unable to compete with the greater force.
The captain trembled and blinked quickly while T'Pol drew quicker breaths.
"No," she said, aloud.
"You've seen your father die in front of you – a shell of his former self. Riddled with a disease that afflicts only .3 of Earthlings. His mind was shriveled and his resolve weakened."
"Dad," he whispered. His eyes became glassy at the thought.
T'Pol could clearly see how his father died, something that in her months of sharing thoughts she'd never seen. Henry Archer, his face gruesome with agony, lay on a bed with various tubes shoves in and up parts of his body, wasting away in front of his 12-year old son. The boy's eyes spilled over with tears as he knew he was watching his father draw his last breaths. The man couldn't speak, but simply raised a finger to the boy's cheek and collected a trickle of water than sprung from his eyes.
Jonathan wondered whether to run for his mother – who was out in the garden, but knew instinctively he should be there as his father passed; there wasn't time to run for her, not now. And there was an important duty to perform … it was a responsibility that fell on the man of the house … his shoulders.
"It's okay," he heard himself say. His voice choked and he curled his fingers around the hand of the man that raised him.
The older man contorted his face in anguish.
"Dad, it's okay."
Jonathan knew that releasing his father was the most important thing he could do. And some bond between the two let him know that's exactly what his father wanted; Henry Archer was going to hang on until the last possible moment.
A few more tears slipped down his cheeks. "We'll talk again soon."
The man's eyes filmed over and his mouth fell open only marginally. There were words and thoughts formed on his mute lips, but the boy knew what they were and let a few tears roll down his cheek.
Henry's hand collapsed and the young boy shriveled on his father's stilled chest, sobbing.
T'Pol shook herself and noticed her mate fighting to restrain tears.
"Please, don't do this," she asked. Blinking quickly she felt water form at her own eyes.
Sovok's furrowed his brow and pushed deeper as if on a mission to uncover something. Archer quivered, his façade slipping and his determination waning.
After Henry died almost right away Starfleet, influenced by the Vulcans, seemed determined to scrub the project, which was deemed a waste of time and money. One of his father's friends, Forrest, and a few others had argued that point to no avail. His mother, who'd worked along side her husband in the lab, had tried everything in her power to further the studies, but within three years of Henry's death, the project was placed on what the government had conveniently deemed a "hiatus."
The day they closed the Warp 5 wing at Starfleet HQ, his mother packed away the last of the belongings and Archer tagged along to give her a hand.
"I did not think anyone would be here," Soval said. He'd entered the facility without either knowing.
Megan glanced up. "I didn't think you'd be here." Rather than stop and talk, she continued to put things neatly into boxes.
Soval neatly collapsed his hands behind his back. "Although it may be difficult to believe, I think your species will eventually travel in space. You are not prepared to now, but you may be one day."
The woman shot a cold glare in his direction and threw her hands on her hips. "Not within my life time."
The Vulcan shot up an eyebrow in surprise.
"What more do you want? You made damned sure to end the project my husband devoted his life to! You could've helped. I know we were close, but you're too high and mighty to want anyone traveling in space with you."
"Mrs. Archer –" he began.
That enraged her further. "You people hurt Henry in ways you don't even know. You hurt my family in ways you can't even understand."
Jon stared down at his feet. His mother was a passionate woman, but not prone to fits of venomous anger, like this one. The project was the last bit of his father still left. In some ways closing the Warp 5 project made the family relive his dad's untimely demise. Worse, it killed the entire family's dream … something they'd been living off of for more than ten years.
His mother curled up her lip. "Soval, you could never understand. My husband trusted you, counted on you. I think he even thought of you as a friend. He didn't realize we, all Earthlings, are meaningless to you."
The Vulcan shifted his weight.
"Well, you're just as meaningless to us."
Without having packed everything, she picked up the box, stuffed one more item and made a dramatic exit. To side with his mother, he glowered at the Vulcan and marched behind her.
"Prejudice," Soval said. "Strange that you should be seeking a bond with a Vulcan."
With a little more force, the Vulcan gripped the sides of Archer's face. "Show me what I want to know."
The human's face twitched. T'Pol could feel Jonathan trying to fight her uncle.
Give in, she thought to her mate.
Instead of capitulating, he opened his eyes and shook under the pressure of Sovok's mental grip. It was frightening and even in her mind she could feel the reverberations. Sinking like a woman drowning, she knew what her uncle was looking for.
Jonathan, give it to him.
Wincing in pain, he shook his head.
"Very well," Sovok said. His gaze turned almost angry and he bared down on the captain with incredible telepathic strength. T'Pol wavered a little, near fainting as she felt the Vulcan burrow through her mate's mind until he found what he was looking for.
Images rushed through his mind – past girlfriends, most of whom had left him because of lack of attention or care on his part. The man had spent the better part of his life devoted to Starfleet instead of worrying about women or chasing after them.
But, one woman hung in his mind longer than others. The regret was deeper and more complex. A petite young woman, somewhere around 21, with curly, red hair and brilliant blue eyes hung in his mind longer than the others.
"Margaret Mullen," Sovok said.
It was a rainy San Francisco night. Margaret and Jonathan laughed and held hands as they ran through the downpour, along concrete streets in the industrial district – past blocks of warehouses, storage containers and empty parking lots. As they ran closer to her home, the 24-year old man, watched his girlfriend's simple blue, flowered dress and long tresses cling to her body.
When they reached her complex, a little brownstone, he stood on the stoop with her and kissed her passionately … as if they'd never embraced before.
"Come inside with me," she whispered in his ear.
Nodding slowly, his heart pounding in his chest and throat, he stepped onto her hardwood floors, water dripping from his frame and pooling at his feet. After she closed the door, her hands smoothed over his drenched shirt and they stripped each other and fell onto her Oriental rug in the living room giggling. He took a deep breath, hoping to capture the moment in his mind's eye for eternity. Gazing over her, he sighed at her beauty her cheeks, lips and breasts were rosy, like a budding flower, from the cold rain and excitement.
Pushing a twisted strand of drying hair from her face, he stared into her eyes.
"I love you," he whispered. His mouth fondled hers.
When they broke for air, she whispered back to him. "I love you, too."
Nibbling at his lips and then throat, he could tell she was interested in reintroducing the desire that sparked between them … and he was too. But, if he didn't do this now, he'd never work up the courage again.
Rustling up the bravery he'd lacked for the past month, he turned serious. His fingers intertwined with hers and he stared at them – they were dainty and dotted with freckles.
"I was thinking … after I graduate, maybe you and I could …"
Gazing back into her eyes, which were strewn with confusion, he took another deep breath.
"I'm not saying this right. That night I saw you at the party … I've known since then."
Margaret whispered, "Jon …."
"Maybe this isn't the best way to do this," he said, glancing over her naked and prone body. "But, I've been wanting to ask you this for a while."
As she opened her mouth, he rushed the words out before he could reflect on them. "Will you marry me?"
Eagerly his mouth connected with hers. When he drew back, his smile faded as a furrow worked between her slender light brown eyebrows and her heart shaped lips turned down. A little nervous, he laughed.
"That wasn't exactly the reaction I expected."
"Why can't we just stay like this for a while longer?" she asked.
His throat closed and he stared down at the rug underneath them. "Because I love you. And … I thought you loved me."
Sitting up, she grabbed a throw that had been folded onto the leather chair beside her. Quietly, she draped it over her.
"I do love you. We … we've never talked about marriage before. I never thought you wanted to. It seems the only thing you're married to is the academy and Starfleet."
"You told me you wanted to get married someday … have children."
"I do," she confessed.
Realization dawning on him, he closed his eyes. "Just … not with me," he said.
"I can't … wait around for you."
Tears hanging in his eyes, threatening mark his face, he shook his head. "I'm right here."
"You're here now, but the future…? I don't want to end up a Starfleet widow."
He shook his head in confusion.
"I don't want to be like Commander Valance's wife; she sees her husband once a year. I see the way she looks at him … as if he's a stranger." Pausing longer than she intended, she spoke again. "She raised those two children by herself."
"It won't be like that," he whispered.
She gave a sad smile. "You say that, but I know you. It'll be worse. Starfleet … space … your father's dream has always come first in your heart."
"I can't believe after all this time … you don't even know me."
Without considering what else to do or say, he stood up – shamed with embarrassment – and began to put on his wet clothes.
"I don't want it to end this way," she told him. "I never wanted to hurt you."
Staring down at his feet, he opened her door and walked back onto the stoop. Turning his already soaked collar to the cold and rain, he walked home– numb. After a while, he couldn't tell what was dampening his face – the rain or his tears.
T'Pol's breath caught in her throat. Although she'd seen into his mind, she'd never understood until now the hurt that moment had caused. It was easy to fall into the next wave of emotion and thoughts.
Archer was up late, as he was much of the time these days. As he picked up his mug from the coffee dispenser and placed it to his lips, he heard a familiar voice behind him.
"Shouldn't you be in bed?" Hoshi said, smiling.
He didn't confirm nor deny it. "What are you doing up?" he asked.
"Bad dreams," she said. The comment was vague, but he could tell she was troubled. 'You going to sit for a while?"
He could tell it was more of a request to talk.
"For a bit," he said. There was data in the command center he wanted to review. But, he had a soft spot for the communications officer and had worried about her ever since she'd agreed to stay with the alien creature – Tarquin.
Sitting, she pushed her cheek up onto her knuckle. "Chef made spaghetti again tonight. Any reason?"
"I thought he made fettuccini tonight."
She shrugged. "Pastas all seem the same to me. Any chance I can get back in the kitchen?"
Frowning a little – remembering her fixation on Udon – he decided to be kind. "I need you at your post communications. You still have some of the Xindi database to translate."
Nodding, she leaned in a little. "Have you heard about Murphy and Taylor?"
Shaking his head, he showed his confusion.
"They're dating."
"Oh," he said. "I … I guess I'm not surprised. It's been a difficult mission."
"I suppose that's why you haven't done anything about Trip and T'Pol?"
"Come again?"
She giggled and swatted his arm. "Oh, come on. He's been in her quarters three or four times a week for 'neuropressure.' Malcolm told me sometimes they undress for it. I agree with Lt. Reed; there's more going on than a little touchy-feely."
Stunned he watched, perplexed. "Dr. Phlox indicated it was a medical treatment."
She leaned in to gossip more. "Crewman Miller said he heard the two talking about … spending the night together in the Mess Hall. I … just never would've thought the two of them …."
Stiffening, he let her continue without hearing her words. Blinking through the pain that settled in his stomach, he finished the conversation as if going through the motions. He heard himself speak, joke and excuse himself, but it wasn't him speaking – it was some automaton.
Giving a final grin to her, he walked back to the Command Center and stared at the screen. In his mind, really, he'd known it was more than just some Vulcan healing art. Neither T'Pol nor Trip talked about it much – and the commander was the kind to either brag about how good it felt or question why he needed it in annoying detail. Maybe the fact his friend hadn't spoken about it meant it was significant.
"Would they say anything to me anyway?" he asked himself aloud.
He'd been retreating into himself so utterly, focusing on the strategy to destroy the Xindi weapon and distancing himself from the crew – especially now that he needed to be a hard ass … now that he needed to be a military commander more than their friend.
As he pulled up some recent scans T'Pol had taken, he sighed and ignored the pang in his heart.
"There was another human before Archer," Sovok said.
The grocery store excursion had been a success. After stopping at the place he always ventured when he was back in San Francisco, he made a special stop at a vegan place that specialized in Vulcan cuisine and then headed back home with a box full of items. Hefting it with one hand and fishing into his pocket for his key card with the other, he fumbled to open the door.
The sight almost made him drop everything in his arms.
T'Pol, dressed only in a bathrobe, was snuggled into Trip's arms and their mouths were open in a passionate kiss. Archer noticed Trip's fingers slid along the belt of her robe, until he spied the captain hanging in the hallway.
"Hey, Jon! Sorry, Hoshi said T'Pol was staying with you. I just had to see her."
I bet, he thought.
T'Pol's large brown eyes held fear and embarrassment. She worked her robe closer to her body, pulling the collar of it together in humility.
"You can come into your own place, Jon," Trip teased. He grabbed at T'Pol's robe as she backed away.
"Uhm," Archer said, nearly tripping over the carpet at his door.
Gathering the box from his hands, Trip gave a casual smile. "Don't worry about cooking extra. I can't stay. I told my family I'd be home before midnight. I just … I just wanted to let you know how I felt, T'Pol. You don't have to answer me yet, just think about it. Maybe we can … hook up … on Saturday."
The phrase made Archer nearly drop a box of pasta he'd stuffed into his hand while he tried to ignore what was happening around him.
"That work for you?" Trip asked.
Archer as he put away a few more items, glanced out of the corner of his eye to see her give a slow head bob.
Trip smiled. "Thanks for taking care of her." The engineer walked over to hug his shoulder and then clap his back.
"I'm glad you were able to put her up while she's on Earth. I doubt she'd wanna stay at the consulate."
If you only knew the half of it, Archer thought.
Crossing over to say his goodbyes to the woman he came to see, he winked. "T'Pol, honey, I'll call ya tomorrow."
With that, he kissed her cheek and left.
As soon as the door glided shut, Archer assessed the situation and came up with only one possibility: she hadn't expected him to be home so soon and possibly used that as her chance to show her feelings for Trip. The thought foamed and stirred in his mind like a tidal wave of anger. Jealousy swirled in his stomach and threatened to spew. Banging his cupboards shut, he found the tsunami of emotion difficult to contain.
"Jonathan, let me explain."
And so the emotion burst free.
Whatever she had to say, he didn't want to hear it. Whatever excuse she could offer, he'd already determined, was paltry. Suffering through the rumors about her and Trip, and suffering was the right word, he'd eventually become used to the idea. If his heart couldn't find happiness, somewhere he'd reasoned with himself that at least his closest friends could.
But, when Trip ended his relationship, hope bubbled helplessly to the surface and simmered there. Having her on his couch showing him a Vulcan embrace weakened the resolve he'd committed to and he gave in … to passion, to love, to hoping she could somehow at some time return his feelings.
"Oh, I don't think I need an explanation to know what's going on!" he yelled.
The rest of the conversation was a blur and venom was infused in every word he said to her. Looking for an escape out of the conversation and room, he dramatically smacked his keycard to a shuttle on the table and told her to leave with his shuttle to go to Florida. Marching into his bedroom and slamming the door, he decided to pace around his room – hoping to come up with the right solution. He'd leave and let her have the apartment for the rest of his stay … or maybe he could offer to drive her to the Vulcan settlement.
With each plan that came to his mind, he dismissed the idea because of one simple truth: he'd miss her. The thought made him collapse onto his bed and stare at the ceiling. He was in too deep now. And at the rate he was going, he would've ignored everything he saw and run back to her – to forgive her, to ask her forgiveness, to make love and talk about their future ….
It was with a slow breath, he realized T'Pol needed to determine her own feelings. Even as they mingled minds in the Grand Canyon, he could feel her interest in Trip. Although she wouldn't classify it as love – he would. It held mystery, an aching of the heart, confusion and lust. Even when he'd seen the two kiss, he'd noticed those emotions crossing her features.
The crushing feeling in his chest increased. Closing his eyes, he tried to summon the mantle he'd worn before – the one that made it possible for him to deal with the relationship in the past, deaths, torture …. He reached for the man he'd been in the Expanse, hoping to beckon him. But that man wouldn't come.
Breathing deeply, he turned onto his side hoping to fall into a deep slumber.
"Jealousy and hurt."
Sovok's fingers left Archer's temple and the human crumpled to the ground. T'Pol rushed to his side.
"He's unconscious," T'Pol said.
"You had a relationship with two Earth men?" Sovok asked.
T'Pol raised her eyebrow in anger. "You didn't need to put him through that to find out."
V'Lin joined her niece, crouching down beside her. "Let's put him in Sovok's back bedroom."
The two women hoisted Archer's long form up, strung his arms over their shoulders and headed to the as Saaya and Sovok walked behind them.
Saaya asked a question quietly. "Should we contact a doctor?"
Sovok replied. "No, he is merely fatigued. When he wakes I would like to determine more about the other man."
After V'Lin and T'Pol spread Archer out on the bed, T'Pol turned with something like a sneer spread over her lips. "You could ask me."
"That is not the purpose of this. It's to determine how he feels."
T'Pol met her uncle's gaze and in a bold move, stepped closer to him. "Don't do this to him. Humans are more emotional and susceptible to emotion. Bringing up his father's death … our history is painful to him."
"That is precisely why I do it, T'Pol."
"I protest this," she said. The words held more feeling than she'd intended.
"You protest and your forfeit the challenge."
Her fingers curled into her hands, forming two small fists. "He is my mate. My blood burns for him. He is aflame for me. We share thoughts and emotions easily. Even if I end this challenge, you cannot diminish what is between us."
Sovok shot her an icy glare. "Only because you are my brother's daughter and in the throes of Pon Farr will I listen to your insolence."
As she turned her back, he provided more comments. "Ending the challenge is your decision, but I warn you: this family will turn its back on you as if you were an Andorian stranger."
V'Lin's eyebrows climbed against her head as T'Pol stared at her mate.
"Leave us until he comes to," she said.
Sovok was about to argue, when Saaya intercepted. "You should rest as well, husband."
TBC