The story had become an oral tradition. It was why T'Pol's mother told her one night before the young woman entered the Vulcan High Command.
Rama and Surak had reached middle aged. Her face and frame was still beautiful. Long tresses of black hair, streaked with silver, fell over her shoulders and her eyes sparkled with the same interest as they always had. Surak, who's wife had been dead more than five years, was just as aged. His hair – now gray – fell in a bowl and his body, once tanned and lithe, was wrinkled.
Although more worn, neither ended their routine, including one of Surak's favorites: wandering into the desert to meditate. Under the open sky – the sun and the stars –he achieved a one-ness with the universe: serenity. Rama, who always accompanied him, saw no reason why she shouldn't join him this time.
So, when he announced after dinner with his students that he would head into The Forge the next morning, Rama immediately left to pack what few belongings she had.
Only a day into her journey, she experienced a wave of heat. Stumbling for a moment, she shrugged it off – hypothesizing it was the effects of age.
"Your feet have slowed and you have grown quiet," he said to her. It was his way of teasing her, but expressing his concern.
"Are you suggesting I am verbose?" she said.
His eyes beaming at her and he agreed without having to so verbally.
"My age is catching up with me," she said.
A smile lit into her eyes and Surak's head nodded slowly.
But, by the fourth day she realized it was more than just heat. There was burning like a flame … a fever. It crawled over her skin and itched as if she could not scratch it. It made her think of the first night she tried to seduce Surak. It made her want to attempt it again.
Staring over the small fire that he had made, she studied his features.
"You are ill," he said.
Emptying her canteen into her throat, she glanced up. "I am not ill."
"You have nearly depleted your water. Your eyes glisten and gleam. Your hair is damp with sweat …."
She didn't argue.
"Rama? Withholding the truth is …."
"I have not been withholding the truth."
Shaking his head, he stood. "I should head back into town and get you assistance."
As he gathered a few belongings to make the journey, she touched his wrist and went aflame.
"I am not ill."
Jerking his head back only slightly, he seemed to understand the dilemma. "When did you realize you had fallen into the Pon Farr?"
"I believed myself too old …."
"How could you have not known the burning … the lust?"
Her lips trembled. "My age. This is like my first fever – it caught me unaware."
"Can you hold out until we reach the village?" he asked.
Another four days of having her skin prickle and sensing her insides singe was too much. Even speaking of her wants, caused her lips to quiver.
"No. I do not believe I can wait even a day." Watching his chin touch his chest, almost in defeat, she gave a near frown. "I apologize, Surak."
Holding out two fingers for her, he closed his eyes. "You should not apologize. No offense can be made where none is taken."
As their fingers touched, he ran them down her arm as she shuddered. "You are my closest friend. If I cannot deny a stranger in the throes of Pon Farr, how I could I deny you?"
Titling her head back, she let him undress her and shivered as he knelt with her onto a blanket.
"I regret that another is not here to satisfy you," he said. "I have long wanted someone to touch your heart and mind. I hoped someday you would have a family."
Her mouth pressed against his urgently. "Touch me."
Finally, his lips took hers and fingers joined hers. A whirlwind of emotion and passion overtook her. Before she could contemplate her actions, she felt her fingers free him of clothing and her mouth worship his shoulders, arms, face, hands and chest. She reveled in the moment – his body was glorious.
The moment they collided, Rama's fingers danced along his temple to share what she felt – the wonder and awe of the moment. Panting into the night air, she showed him the overwhelming love that had always been there for him. Sometimes the love was masked as friendship, as she did everything to support Surak, his teachings, his family and his marriage. Sometimes the love was flame; when in Pon Farr she'd imagined the other men she'd been with to be Surak.
"Someone has already claimed my heart and mind," she said, whispering to him. "You."
"It is the madness," he said into her ear.
Halting his motions, she stared into his eyes. "No."
It was then she shared with him the lust that she'd had to meditate away every day … the longing in her belly to caress him that had been there since she tried to seduce him all those years ago.
"I did not realize," he said. It made his breath stutter.
Rushing her fingers through his hair, her lips and tongue savored his – lapping the taste of him.
"Share your thoughts with me," she said. Taking his hand to her face, she felt the flicker of his thoughts.
"Rama, no," Surak warned.
The Vulcan woman distracted him by rolling onto him, penetrating his mind as his control slipped away.
As she felt his thoughts, sifting past the mathematic equations and logic, past the pain he'd suffered when his wife died and found his feelings about her. They were disappointing in a way. Instead of passion and lust, he'd felt only deep and soulful friendship for her. Untainted and pure like a well protected from the desert sands, it refreshed and quenched him. Like a brother's care for a younger sister, he wanted her to find fulfillment – in logic, in a mate, in a family, in herself ….
Hearing her thoughts put that friendship in jeopardy. In a way, he wished he could return her feelings. It would be easier that way – especially since he wanted her to be content.
Retreating from that thought, she removed her fingertips and surrendered to his body. After he caught his breath, she fell at his side without touching him.
"I did not want you to see," he whispered.
Staring off into the sands, she gave a slow nod. "You have never indicated I was more than a friend."
Touching a strand of her hair, he comforted her hurt – something she was certain he could feel in his own mind when they were briefly joined.
"You will always be my closest friend," he whispered, cupping her face.
"I will always care for you than … just a mate," she said. "But, I saw your love for T'Pana there. There can be no one else, can there?"
"She alone is the mate for my katra." As if to apologize, he stroked her cheek.
"You have not done anything to dishonor our friendship."
"And neither have you."
Quivering, she let him hold her.
It was strange that T'Pol remembered this story now. When her mother had told her, it seemed unbelievable: a Vulcan, one as logical as Rama or Surak, would never confess love and desire. Rama was considered Surak's right hand; it was impossible to think that she had followed logic out of unrequited love.
And yet, watching Jonathan sleep and thinking over the images she saw, she understood Rama's plight. Jonathan was determined to care for her no matter what, even if she couldn't or wouldn't return his feelings.
Archer opened his eyes and blinked quickly. Immediately, T'Pol's hand ran over his cheek and brushed aside a lock of his hair.
"What happened?" he asked.
As delicately as possible, she provided him the information. "You fainted."
With a chin scratch and a head nod, he sat up.
"About what you experienced …."
Lifting his eyes, he gazed at her, which made the tingling sensation in her stomach more painful.
"I … apologize about what happened before," she said.
Averting her gaze, he nodded. "You don't need to."
Because she could see into his mind, it was clear the events – the ones she participated in with Trip – hurt him. The mind meld in general with Sovok was difficult – reliving painful moments one after another was excruciating.
"Jonathan …."
"I just want this thing to be over. Is it?" he asked.
"It is."
Skeptically he watched her. "So … what's the verdict about us?"
"It's over meaning: I won't subject you to more."
Standing up, towering over her, he furrowed his brow. "It doesn't seem like we have a choice."
"You yourself indicated there are choices. I do not need my uncle's permission."
"But, if that's true then … the Vulcan High Command won't recognize us, and you won't be able to return to Vulcan."
"Yes."
"And your family disowns you."
"Yes."
He shook his head and placed his hands on her shoulders. "We've been through too much now to turn back."
She shook her head. "The decision has been made."
"I don't agree with it."
"You're not the captain here, Jonathan."
Frowning, he disagreed. "That wasn't what I meant. We're in this together."
"No."
"Look, I don't care about them dredging up the past. Everything … everything has already happened. I'm not going to let you sever all your ties to your planet and family just because my future in-laws are scoping out my mind trying to figure out what makes me tick."
As she opened her mouth, he reasserted himself. "Let's see what happens. We're too close."
Grudgingly, she brushed her nose against his and he smiled. "I'm glad we agree," he said.
Heaving a sigh, she touched lips with him and stifled any residual symptoms from the Pon Farr.
Smirking, he took her hand in his. "Let's go get your relatives."
T'Pol frowned and then walked out of the room holding his hand.
Sovok stood as the two emerged from his back bedroom. Archer saw a flicker of surprise cross the man's features and then vanish, almost as if it didn't happen.
"You are not withdrawing?" Sovok asked. Archer noted there was a trace of disappointment, which made him more resolved.
"No," Archer said, sitting down on the pillow beneath him.
Sovok sat down across from Archer, folding his legs in the same manner.
"Thanks for the use of your room," Archer said.
"I hope you have readied yourself, Archer. The next phase is quite difficult."
He ducked his head for a moment and produced a thoughtful nod as the uncle watched T'Pol close her eyes.
"Very well, then I shall begin."
With that, his fingers gripped Archer's face as Sovok chanted a few phrases to propel himself into his mind.
There was one more piece to the puzzle, and as Archer slipped into the mind meld, he knew what it was: his relationship with T'Pol.
Her snotty response about how humans weren't ready to travel amongst the stars - due to their volatile nature - forced him to respond with a smart-ass quip about knocking her on her ass.
Smug and confident, he was pleased with himself until Forrest uttered the words he thought he'd never hear.
"She's going with you, Jon. She'll be your first in command."
The one saving grace was that Trip didn't seem too pleased with her either and that she'd be out of his hair in a few days.
"That seems so long ago," he murmured.
Over the course of the year things had changed. Slowly, he began to warm up to her – even like her. And soon after that he didn't just like her, he trusted her … strangely more than Trip or anyone else. Her advice, expertise and experience became valuable – necessary even. Her emotionless, expression, flat voice went from annoying to appealing. The catsuit she stuffed herself into went from interesting to alluring. And, he had to admit her presence went from acceptable to wanted.
Overnight, sometime – he wasn't sure when – he'd fallen in love with her. He thought Trip knew that, but it seemed the engineer had his own wants and needs.
That's when the rumors started flying. Reed would snigger under his breath to Travis about "naked-pressure" or "touch-feely." Although Archer frowned on ship gossip, he had too many things to do than babysit his officers on social etiquette, so let the comments go … maybe because in the back of his mind he agreed.
When Hoshi explained "touchy-feely" wasn't just a rumor, but a fact, he'd tucked his feelings neatly away … until Trip severed the relationship. At Trip's request, and wanting to help her, he spent time with her and eventually invited her to Earth where he'd hope to win her over.
Things were tense, especially at the 602 Club, but he considered himself – eventually – victorious.
"It troubles you that she was involved with your friend," Sovok said.
"No." Yes.
"Sometimes you wonder if you sabotaged their relationship."
"No." Yes.
"You don't want to see into the crevices of T'Pol's mind to find out more information – everything about this other man."
"We have a bond," he said. "I already know how she feels."
Sovok shook his head. "Not everything. Bondmates keep no secrets."
Reaching through Archer and T'Pol's mental connection he unearthed information that made the captain squirm – about the neuropressure, about the trellium addiction ….
T'Pol's fingers closed around a canister and she forced it to her neck and sighed deeply, letting her mouth fall open by centimeters: the drug felt exquisite. Emotions, raw and untamed, surged inside of her … making the drive to mate irresistible.
Tonight of all nights, that's the exact emotion she wanted to elicit.
Walking into her quarters, she pulled out a robe – deciding to wear only that – and scented herself with a flower grown on Vulcan. Brushing her hair and coloring her lips, she readied for his arrival. This was the night, she had decided, she would seduce him. She wanted him to be hers.
Archer shifted uncomfortably.
Lighting her candles and reducing the light, she waited … pent up with desire. Casually, he joined her on her bed and removed all the clothing he needed to for his treatment, as he would any other time. Her face inched closer to his as the two bantered.
Finally, in a dramatic move, she wrapped her fingers around his head and kissed him deeply. In her mind, she was begging to lay with him – wanting to feel his skin on hers in the most intimate of positions. She wanted him to touch her.
Easing off her robe, she stood naked before him. And when the shock wore off and he'd recovered enough to stop gawking at her body, he grabbed her to him and threw her beneath him to the sheets.
"That's enough," Archer said. His face twitched and he moved from the meld.
"There is more," Sovok said.
"I don't really want to see."
"Becoming a bondmate to someone means you will see all their thoughts, even the ones you may not want to."
Furrowing his brow, he glanced out of the corner of his eye. T'Pol's head rested against her chest.
"It's bothering T'Pol," he said.
"It troubles her that it concerns you so."
Archer reached out to her and could tell what Sovok said was mostly true. There was a part of the Vulcan that was embarrassed by her actions; they were unfitting a Vulcan. But, more than anything, she was concerned about his jealousy.
Gritting his teeth, he apologized and waited for her uncle to resume the meld.
A new scene emerged, one that looked familiar to Archer. He was in his old apartment pouring two glasses of wine and heading for the couch. As soon as he reached it, his link with T'Pol rattled – stiffening as if she could predict what would unfold.
"T'Pol," Sovok said, threateningly.
"He shouldn't see that."
Archer handed T'Pol a glass. Twirling it in her hands, she raised a brow.
"I don't drink often."
Smiling, he joined her on the couch. "Don't feel obligated."
Raising the glass to her lips, she swallowed deeply, closing her eyes. The drink was rich – although she was not partial to alcohol, she understood why humans drank wine. It reminded her, in some ways, of trellium – as if she could lose her inhibitions in it.
Satisfied, she gazed at him – his lips and eyes.
"Good," he replied.
Setting down the glass, she glanced around his apartment. "You have an aesthetically pleasing abode."
He shrugged. "I'm not much on decorations."
"I like your black and white pictures."
Pointing at one across the room, he said, "Well, we're going to that one tomorrow."
"I look forward to it."
As she whispered the last words, he seemingly grew contemplative and quiet. She'd been warned by Hoshi that staying with Captain Archer might be difficult – something about how guests and fish become rotten after a few days. The exact euphemism escaped her.
"Is there something troubling you?"
A genuine smile, full of tenderness, overtook his entire face. Softly, he said to her with a gleam in his eyes, "No, actually, I'm not troubled at all."
It was charming … and so was he. Thinking back on the past several weeks, she hypothesized that the captain loved her. A brief hug between them enabled her to tell – only for a second – he cared about her … deeply. His interest in "cheering her up" over the last weeks, the amount of attention he'd showered her with and the desire to please her all led up to that conclusion. So, she drank her wine quietly, set the glass down and then held two fingers to his.
At the touch, she felt his thoughts in a rush – he did love her – painfully so. He'd hoped not to rush things, but felt the urge to kiss her. So, she stroked his fingers.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
Besides his emotions, T'Pol realized something – doing this felt good. It had been several weeks since she'd been intimate with Trip. This felt comforting … reassuring.
"I am showing you a Vulcan embrace," she said. Her fingers spread and traveled up his forearm, which she gathered right away he enjoyed.
"Listen, T'Pol," he whispered. "I don't think you should do this. It hasn't been very long since you and Trip …."
Avoiding the conversation, she moved her fingers along his jaw and lips. He was handsome, a friend … and right now more than that – he was a man. Illogical though it was feeling … rejection … hurt. This, the touching of fingers, eased that discomfort.
Moving slowly, as if he might frighten her away, he placed his lips on hers. His gaze was intense and she could feel his heart skip and sputter. She opened her mouth and ran her tongue along his as he moaned into her throat.
He has been waiting for this for months … for years.
And then suddenly, he pushed her away. "I don't think we should do this."
She knew he wanted to continue and only needed a small amount of encouragement.
"Why? Do you not wish to?" she asked.
Her fingers stroked his cheekbone and his lips fell against her throat. "No. That's not it. I just wonder if it's too fast for you."
It was, but she wanted this anyway. Pulling him over her, the two kissed eagerly and without abandoned. When she closed her eyes, she almost felt like this was familiar … like something she would do with Trip. Her fingers worked to unbutton his shirt and she splayed it open.
"Don't show him more," T'Pol said.
Within moments, his hands roamed over her body and their hips collided, teasing each other. Urgency: she felt it from his emotions and thoughts.
"Come here," he said, taking her hand.
She knew what it meant: he wanted her. And … she wanted to be desired.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked when they reached his bedroom.
Silently, her eyes wondered, but her mouth agreed. "Is this not what you want?"
"I've been wanting this for a while."
Stripping her down to her Starfleet regulation underwear, he decided to ask a question she was hoping he wouldn't.
"So, what happens after tonight?"
Leaning against a pillow, she replied honestly. "I do not know."
Gliding a finger down her throat, frowning, he asked another question. "So, then … what's this all about?"
"You desire me. I feel desire for you."
"Just desire?"
"You seem to feel more than lust for me."
Disappointed, he clarified that he did feel more than lust for her. She confessed in return he was a friend, a colleague, someone she trusted, respected and admired.
"Friendship and lust, huh? And what you feel for Trip is deeper."
Much, she thought. "Yes."
Without much additional information, he got to the crux of the issue. "You want to feel desired?"
It was embarrassing he'd surmised it so accurately. It was illogical. It certainly wasn't Vulcan, and yet it was true.
"Yes," she said.
Gazing into his eyes, she could see the aching – it was evident. But, then he did something extraordinary, instead of ending their liaison, he agreed to give her exactly what she wanted.
He stalked over her abdomen and kissed up her stomach. "Do you want to feel cared for? Loved? Adored?"
Yes. She wasn't sure whether she managed a nod or not, but understood within seconds he was confessing his soul to her as he cherished and worshipped her body. Every touch and word was intoxicating, and she became drunk quickly – lapping up every comment and caress.
"I do adore you. I've been thinking about you … fantasizing about this …."
Slipping her eyes closed, she remembered when Trip wanted her like this. She could almost imagine his soft blonde hair caressing her neck, she could almost feel his small tipped nose nuzzling her chin and hear his smooth Southern accent whispering to her.
"I've been in love with you for years. I'm still in love with you," he whispered.
"I never thought she was thinking of me," Archer said. It was a lie, but felt like the right thing to say.
So, the two made love. What astounded the Vulcan is how open and giving Jonathan was. As if studying her every moment, he concentrated on those things she enjoyed – the motions that made her eyes squeeze shut tighter and her writhe under him. Kissing her tenderly, he encouraged her to submit to ecstasy and then called her name lovingly, in a whisper, as he fell into bliss.
After pressing his lips to hers again and then holding her to him, he fell to her side and tucked the blankets neatly around them. A furrow worked between her brow and he smoothed it gently with his thumb.
"You okay?" he asked.
"I'm fine."
No, she thought. She'd had sex with her best friend and commander, using him because she wanted to feel as if she mattered to someone.
"Was that okay?" he asked.
"Yes."
It wasn't "okay," it was beautiful. Almost as if reading her mind, he gave her a small smile.
"That felt good to me, too," he said.
He planted a kiss on her forehead.
"Jonathan …."
"Let's talk about it tomorrow."
Stroking her hair as if she was the most cherished person on Earth, she felt him watch her sleep.
Sovok removed his hands and tipped an eyebrow as Archer's head met his chest almost as if in defeat. The uncle took a deep breath.
"We'll continue the next stage tomorrow. It is late and I grow fatigued."
It was just as well, Archer wasn't sure he wanted to continue. His mind and body were exhausted and his spirits felt low.
V'Lin gave a near frown. "Be back here tomorrow at 10 a.m."
T'Pol hesitantly got to her feet, avoiding glancing in Archer's direction. It was just as well, he wanted to evade her eyes, too.
The two silently, and without touching each other, walked to the shuttle and got in. Both of their thoughts remained sequestered, as if they wanted to keep from damaging their relationship further by what happened.
When they were almost home, T'Pol finally broke the stillness.
"I'm sorry for what you experienced."
Gazing out the window, he shrugged. "It happened in the past."
As she landed the shuttle, he could tell she was worried. For some reason, it wasn't important to allay those fears. Right now, he just wanted some time to himself -- time to think and escape. Climbing out of the shuttle, he made a beeline for her house. A hand stopped him as he reached the door.
"I would like to discuss this."
Unable to refrain from rolling his eyes, he headed into the house muttering under his breath. "Fine."
She illuminated the darkened room as he glanced down at his watch – it was already 0100. Somehow he had a feeling he wasn't going to get any sleep tonight.
"So, what do you want to talk about?" He knew.
She raised both eyebrows. "I know you are troubled. I am as well."
"If you mean I'm upset that when you first slept with me you were thinking about Trip – yeah, I guess so." That was an understatement. The comment was meant to sting, and he was pleased at its success.
"I didn't think about him the entire time. When we first embraced it reminded me of him – including the smell of sweat and musk."
"What a relief. You were only thinking about another man some of the time."
Swiping his hand over his forehead, he frowned. He'd put up with a lot of shit during this vacation – Vulcan customs, in-laws, bonding, Pon Farr, mind probes -- but things were reaching a head; he'd had enough.
"I wasn't thinking about him even some of the time."
He fumed quietly.
"I know my relationship with him has always troubled you."
That was the last straw. Seeing inside her mind, he knew that she'd seduced Trip because of the trellium and had grown more attached to him after the incident. The drug usage was only one of the things that pissed him off. And without realizing it, he began to confront her about things that had angered him for months ... years.
"Why couldn't you have just stuck to the neuropressure! Why'd you have to shoot up with trellium!" he asked. His voice was explosive.
T'Pol's eyes widened. "Because I wanted to fit in. I wanted emotion."
"Jesus, T'Pol. When you we made it off the Selaya, I never thought you'd recuperate. You were in sickbay two weeks. Two! How could you do something so stupid as to put that into your bloodstream?"
"I thought this was in the past," she commented.
Huffing a little, he marched into the kitchen and poured himself some water hoping to put a little distance between them. When she followed him in there, he decided apologizing would win him a quick exit.
"It's not going to do any good to rehash everything that's already happened. I just … I'm tired."
"You know why I wanted to fit in?" she asked.
Archer hung his head against his chest. He knew.
"You and Dr. Phlox were my only friends – the reason I stayed. And once you stopped coming to me for guidance and assistance … or friendship … I believed I made the wrong decision in remaining onboard. I thought I'd acted rashly following you into the Expanse."
"That's funny, my other officers didn't have a drug problem or sleep with each other. And these people were facing the destruction of their planet, family and friends deaths and the human race becoming extinct."
The two stared at each other.
"I'm … I'm just angry that you chose my friend. Out of 82 people on Enterprise, not including the MACOs, there were about 79 people you could've seduced."
"Are you angry because the one I didn't select was you?"
"No," he said. But, the thought wiggled in his mind, worming around. "Maybe." Yes.
She was silent.
"I mean, what was wrong. You weren't attracted to me?" he asked.
She blinked.
"What, I'm too old? Not your type?"
"I wouldn't have begun a relationship with you if I was attracted to you or believed you were ... not my type." His mouth opened and she stated something else. "And as for age, you are more than twenty years my junior. I didn't begin a relationship with you for many reasons then, including: you were my commanding officer and unavailable."
Relief settled onto his face, but darkness still hung in his eyes. "But, you chose someone who reported to you."
"It was … unwise. However, he was handsome and available. Jonathan, I cannot change the past."
He sighed. "I just never thought any of this would've been a problem. After all, you're Vulcan."
"You should know better than anyone that even Vulcans have emotions – they are even confusing to us. And, perhaps I'd … lost my way."
"So, can we get past this?" he asked.
"I sense jealousy and betrayal."
He admitted to the feelings reluctantly. "Yes."
"Do you think you can overcome them?"
Staring at the ground, he watched his shoe nudge one of the tiles on the floor. That really was the question. Ironically, he thought he already had.
"I think so," he said. For some reason his voice didn't have the same certainty he'd intended.
Gazing into her eyes, he mumbled something about needing time to think and headed off for his room. For the first time in several days, he had time to himself – downtime. Staring at the ceiling, he wondered about the right thing to do.
I should probably get some sleep, he thought.
TBC -