A/N: Very perceptive, Arch.

A/N: I'm sooo sorry it took so long to update this. Here is the conclusion.

-----

The sun lit the sky with a brilliant red haze and Archer watched, mesmerized, by the view. V'Lin and Saaya had kept him preoccupied with discussions of their personal lives; something he never thought they'd share … and something that made him feel more apart of a family.

Drinking his last bit of tea, he waved off another refill and was about to make a beeline for either the bathroom, to let nature take its course, or the patio, to collect T'Pol. The itch to leave was more prevalent than nature, which is why the idea struck him at all. And from the meld, he could feel she was ready to go as well.

"Have I ever told you about the time that T'Pol decided to enter the Vulcan High Command --"

Archer loved childhood T'Pol stories, but even he was wearing thin on them. He'd heard about her riding the family sehlat through the house, how she'd run around – flagrantly showing emotion just as Uncle Salak was in town because of the glee at receiving her first microscope, the disdain she showed when she first met Koss and the interest she'd shown V'Lin in meeting new and exciting aliens.

This one was about the sehlat.

"I think so," Archer said, interrupting V'Lin.

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh."

Feeling impatient, he looked out onto their patio. "I should get her."

"Archer, they're talking about you," Saaya said.

He sighed. "I know."

A light sparked in V'Lin's eyes. "Of course you knew."

Saaya leaned on the cabinets. "T'Pol has some issues to resolve."

"Issues?" he asked.

"There … are things she does not yet realize," V'Lin said.

Archer waited for more information, but both aunts were tight-lipped. Trying to give his most charming grin, he decided to forge ahead.

"Like what?"

"More tea?" Saaya asked. "Your name is … Jonathan?"

He smiled. "Yes."

"May I call you that?" the tall woman asked.

"I wish you would."

The two women exchanged glances and then eventually focused their eyes on him. With a wary glance, V'Lin admitted something to him in a voice so low he wasn't sure he caught it.

"The test is not exactly over."

His face scrunched up into doubt as Saaya put the finishing touches on the information.

"Jonathan, what V'Lin means is: you were not the only one being tested."

Everything he'd had to endure to date seemed focused on whether he was a good enough mate. Everything. The climb, the meld showing something that had always bugged him – her past relationship with Trip - and eventually his acceptance were there to test him. As a human, it galled to him to a degree, but he'd grinned and bore it because he loved T'Pol and this was important to her.

I'm not the only one?

Just as his lips split to speak, V'Lin chimed in.

"Where is the logic is only testing you? The bonding … becoming lifemates … is about partnership."

Saaya gave a slow nod. "Partnership. Balance. They are fundamental to Vulcan life."

"Then why--?"

V'Lin sipped her tea. "Have I told you about the time that T'Pol's uncle--"

She had, but this time he tried to listen with more intrigue.

-------

"Perhaps," she said softly, "Jonathan was unavailable."

The admission hit her like a ton of bricks. She was friends with both men, but at a time of vulnerability when she needed reassurance and comfort Jonathan wasn't around. Trip on the other hand needed comfort as well. When she'd dropped her robe in hopes of seducing him, the man rejoiced in it rather than quoting regulations and scooping the garment back on her shoulders. It's why she chose him initially. Sharing each other's bodies seemed to take their minds away from her drug addiction and their impending doom.

Trip himself had deemed the mission to destroy the Xindi weapon as: a one-way ticket. It meant that no one would return home, and she hadn't – for once – argued with his logic.

Sovok raised an eyebrow and nodded. "Yes. But, Archer told you of his feelings before."

"I thought it was attraction. And I thought those feeling had faded." She also realized, even through the trellium haze, that it would be more difficult to seduce him.

"But, you know differently now."

"Yes." She sighed. "I know differently now."

Sovok stared at her as she recalled various images in her mind – visions that were Jonathan's memories. There were visions of him wandering the corridors purposefully just to pass by her door at night and images of dark green eyes, watching her budding relationship with Trip as he accepted the ache in his heart, hoping the best for his friends.

She even saw into the moment when she'd come to him that night on Enterprise … the one where she came to him in the Mess Hall to ask about him for guidance about her relationship with Trip. This time, she was watching it through his eyes.

Archer heard the door to Mess Hall open and close. He'd thought it was late enough that he'd have a little time to himself and was almost disappointed when someone crossed the threshold. But, as his weary eyes glanced up and noted it was T'Pol, his heart sputtered. Scanning his watch, he knew this was the time she and Trip met in his quarters and wondered if she'd been taking something with her. Shrugging to himself, as a reminder that he'd already acknowledged the relationship, he caught glimpses of her as he nonchalantly peeked over his book. Admiring her, her figure and the way her long slender hands wrapped around a mug to order tea, he let his lips slope up and then ducked his head back into the book. When she slipped into the seat next to him; it surprised him. Maybe she'd seen the way his eyes glazed over when he looked at her, and she was here to reprimand him.

With an excuse at the ready, he responded by politely closing his book.

"Hey, T'Pol. Didn't expect you to be in here," he said.

"Nor I," she said.

Something like a pout was on her face. But, the moment he saw it form, it had disappeared.

Within minutes, she began confiding all her relationship issues. As she did, he tried to play the objective friend role – something he'd gotten used to. When the conversation threatened to become more lurid as she'd introduced the idea of her intimacy with Trip, and he saw a crewmen turn around to notice, he offered to take it to his room.

He didn't expect her to agree.

Under the low lighting of his quarters, and seeing her eyes filled with fear and doubt, he poured himself a glass of whiskey. He gave recommendations – suggestions he was sure she'd already thought of – and she took each one with her head bent. When their discussion came to an end, he considered drawing her to him – to reassure her. He even – albeit briefly – thought about telling her that Trip would be crazy to give her up. But, that wasn't his role tonight, or really any night. So, instead, he tried to comfort her with words and watched her walk out the door.

"He said he told you more than once."

She remembered the time his dog was ill years ago. It was impossible to tell whether it was merely attraction or deeper feelings lay there. "Jonathan and I … it's difficult because we work so closely together. For a human … he holds his emotions close to him."

Sovok remained neutral, but somehow she sensed he agreed.

"I don't regret my time with Trip. In a way it prepared me to better handle a relationship with Jonathan. And the relationship I had with Trip was fulfilling."

"Do you know how bond mates are decided? Do you know why your parents chose Koss?" he said.

An inquisitive brow peaked with interested.

"Parents look at the strengths and weaknesses of their children. They seek someone who is strong in areas where their child is not. The reason Koss was chosen for you is – he is logical, believes in Vulcan tradition and yet can tolerate new ideas and emotion."

That rang true with her.

"Do you believe you and Archer bring that balance?" he asked.

Without having to think, she nodded her head. "Yes."

"Why?"

That was an interesting question.Pondering it, she thought he welcomed her heritage and supported her. He'd been through everything she asked – Pon Farr, the trials … and even if it stung his ego, he was still committed.

"Is that balance?" he asked.

She blinked.

Trip was a fury of emotion. She'd always likened him to a volcano – passions that built to intensity until they erupted. Emotions - like ash, rock and lava - spilled everywhere with force. When the two of them were together, they were explosive – their arguments frequently led to passion and when their passion was complete it lead to cool logic from her and confusion from him.

Although Trip was a good man, he couldn't bring logic to her when she needed it most. And when he was desperate for love and emotion, she couldn't meet his expectations. Interestingly, the characteristics that drew her initially to Tucker – passion, a carefree attitude, wonder – is what drove her to the decision they couldn't be together. Passion soon became indulgence in emotion. A carefree attitude soon equaled ignoring responsibilities. Wonder became immaturity. As a friend, she could relish these things, but not as companion.

There was something else. In her core, at the center of her being, she was Vulcan … would always be Vulcan, despite the occasional feeling that wormed it's way loose or the warmth she had for her Enterprise friends. Being Vulcan meant bowing to reason, and seeking it as if it were a beacon. It was what she meditated on at the end of each day. It was her quest this fragile equilibrium.

This balance, walking a tightrope of logic and emotion, is what made her T'Pol.

Trip didn't understand that; Jonathan did.

Working as a team, captain and first officer, they complemented each other. She mostly brought logic and reason to his decisions; she provided datum … facts … numbers … statistics. He brought instinct, passion and conviction to his command. It seemed the blend of weighing the data she proposed and the emotion he felt worked to his advantage and hers; it's when they made their best decisions. She'd counted on his compassion to help V'Lar, despite knowing the Mazzerites had a faster ship and would eventually overtake Enterprise. It didn't surprise her that he'd agreed.

And, the times she felt distraught by emotion – consumed and overwhelmed by it, he was able to step in and bring reason. When disturbing memories of killing Jossen had overcome her, threatening to prevent her from capturing her last fugative, Menos, … or worse, succumbing to the painful memories … he'd helped her by appealing to her logic.

It wasn't just those times. There were too many to mention or name. It was the essence of their working relationship.

It's also how they became friends. He'd implored her, emotionally, that she should fight the Vulcan High Command's quest to recall her – something that as a captain he should've eschewed. He'd gone into battle of words and egos for her more than once, even when she'd given up herself; it was something that he did mostly for friends, especially for her.

Thinking back on events, she hypothesized his skill at using logic was how their relationship matured into romance in the first place. She'd sought his counsel and advice on emotions by coming to discuss whether the human signs Trip exhibited meant he wanted to end their relationship. And, when she'd asked Jonathan, he'd responded to her with reason and objectivity, despite his feelings.

The humans had a concept for this: ying and yang. She was feminine. Archer was masculine. She brought mostly logic to their relationship. He brought mostly emotion. And yet she had tinges of emotion and Archer had a firm grasp of logic.

She was the desert. He was the sea.

They belonged together, as if made for each other.

Her katra rejoined in him.

Balance.

Sovok raised his eyebrows. "The ancients believed that the world was created by two beings – a man and a woman. The woman spread herself over the horizons. And the man spread himself over the land. They were pressed so tightly against each other nothing could separate them. These two were the only certainties to life. That is the essence of balance."

"Yes," she whispered. "I believe I understand. Physically, mentally and emotionally, Jonathan and I are well balanced."

Sovok stared into her eyes. "I believe you do understand."

Her uncle was about to stand, when T'Pol pointed a brow at him. "What next?"

"I do not understand your meaning," he said.

"And that is all? You will not question my thoughts?"

"I can see in your eyes that you have gained understanding." His eyes twinkled strangely. "Besides, how much more difficult do you want this to be?"

T'Pol swallowed, when he spoke again.

"Your greatest challenge is ahead of you – remembering that balance draws you together. It makes for a strong foundation in marriage."

"Marriage?" she asked.

"You wanted my consent. I give it."

She was tempted to hug her uncle to her, but instead, clasped her hands behind her back and walked into the kitchen. Interrupting her two aunts talking, she leaned over and held her fingers up to her bond mate. When their hands separated, she stared lovingly into his eyes and cupped his cheek with her hand to caress it.

"You mean everything to me," she whispered.

He smirked. "I love you, too." Glancing around the room, he tried to downplay his emotions and attempt to save her some embarrassment.

Part of accepting you, Jonathan, is accepting you, she thought to him.

I don't think I understand, he thought back, bemused.

It's all right. I think we have a lifetime to explore that concept.

"Sovok gives his blessing," she said at his confusion.

V'Lin and Saaya in turn sipped their tea and nodded, as if they knew that would be the case all along.

"What changed his mind?" Archer asked.

T'Pol shook her head. "I think we did."

Just like that? Archer asked.

"I think perhaps it had been there before. At any rate, when Vulcans have decided on a matter and the logic of it, there is nothing left to discuss."

"Aren't there arrangements to make?" he asked.

My love, that is left to our discretion.

"Aren't they invited?" he asked.

V'Lin's eyes shone with humor. "Jonathan, you are already her bond mate. A ceremony at this point is just a formality."

With his mouth ajar, he stammered. "But, this whole exercise--"

"Was for our family to accept you, which we do."

Seems anti-climatic, he thought to T'Pol.

She looked at him with a small amount of humor in her eyes.

You know, we should have a small ceremony and ask your relatives to be there, he thought.

He eyes twinkled at him and she let the words ruminate through her mind that the two brought balance. Stooping over to talk with her relatives, she discussed indeed a wedding ceremony – which they seemed in favor of – and began planning it to take place soon, if possible the next day. Jonathan mostly nodded at whatever T'Pol wanted and a decision was made to have something the next day at noon in Sovok's garden with a priest that had been long-time friends of the family. Sovok interrupted to suggest that a robe he'd had – a regal one – would probably fit the human and V'Lin announced with pride she would be pleased if T'Pol wore her bridal gown.

The family spent time into the evening, munching on fruits and vegetables as they conversed. And T'Pol noted, almost with a hint of smile, that for the first time since their arrival on Vulcan, Archer felt completely at home.

-------

That night, when they finally made back to her mother's house, the two began almost immediately to get ready for bed. After their experiences, they were exhausted and relished crawling into bed. The moment Archer scooted under the covers and turned off the light next to his head, T'Pol's hand touched his cheek. Nuzzling noses and eventually planting their foreheads against the other's, they decided to whisper and give into small kisses and pecks.

Softly, T'Pol confided in him. "My mother told me the story of Rama."

Gingerly, his fingers twirled a piece of her hair.

She said, "I always wanted Surak to return her feelings."

A strange smile spread across his lips. "Perhaps he did. You indicated he didn't let her die in the desert."

She didn't disagree, so he stroked her hair again. He said, "That's very romantic of you, T'Pol."

He kissed her temple and she spoke. "I could feel you also wanted Rama and Surak to be together."

Grinning, he agreed. "I think you also told me the story because it reminds you of us."

"I said Rama reminded me of you, yes. Rama and Surak were close friends, two people fated to be together in many ways."

Their noses nudged each other's.

"Maybe we should get some sleep for the wedding tomorrow," he said.

"Jonathan, I've always wanted to do something for a while."

He gave her a querying eyebrow and quickly she felt herself leaning over him. Raising the bottom of his t-shirt up past his shoulders, she began whispered to him.

"You want to feel desired?" she asked.

As she placed her lips against the palm of his hand, he gasped. "Yes."

She stalked over his abdomen and kissed up his stomach. "Do you want to feel cared for? Loved? Adored?"

His body squirmed under her, and she felt her pulse quicken at the thought. Although the fires of Pon Farr had cooled, she loved this man; he made her burn as he always would.

The tip of her nose brushed along the sternum of his chest and she kissed the path of hair.

"I've always thought you were sexy," she said.

She was beginning to feel a little drunk on his emotions; lust was eking out of his every pore. Continuing, she explored his body with her mouth, "I've always thought you were intelligent. Sophisticated. I've always admired you." Teasing his lips with her tongue, she cajoled a hiss from him.

Her teeth gently bit at his throat and she whispered, "I want you."

"T'Pol--"

Silencing him, her mouth left a string of kisses down his torso. Her breath tickled his chest and her lips nipped at the brownish-pink flesh that peaked there while his hips bucked.

"I adore you," she said.

Her two fingers stroked his, winding around them and snaking along his arm.

It was sensory overload. With every movement she initiated, he became more excited. In turn, she felt herself begin to ache with need as if the taunting she did to his body stimulated her own.

Her lips begged him, enticing him to capitulate - unstoppable. Moving quicker and with more force, she continued to fondle his lips, throat and chest with her mouth, tongue and teeth. His breath was ragged and his moaning was deep and low. Her knee gently pushed him legs apart, dominantly and carefully.

Removing her fingers from their Vulcan embrace, she ran them up and down his arm, along his furry chest and stomach and toward his knee. She looked at him as he wiggled at the sensation of her touch while his breathing became raspier and more wanton.

"I'm in love with you," she admitted. Her hand grazed his inner thigh and his eyes darkened. Doggedly, she captured his lips and pushed her tongue into his mouth with a soft moan.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked. She could tell the movements reminded him of their first encounter.

Slowly let her hand wander along his skin. "Because you excite me."

Nabbing his lips again, she entered his mind and showed him everything.

The desert was tranquil and still, but barren and alone. His presence in her most private of places felt comforting. Kissing him, she glided her fingers along the hair of his chest as his hands explored the thin gown she wore. The moment their tongues came into contact a light mist fell and within an instant she noticed desert blooms – dark red flowers scattered along the sandy ground. Pushing her down and the silk from her body, his tongue weaved a trail to her stomach as her neck craned back in ecstasy. With more emotion than she'd ever shown him out of the blood fever, she cooed at his movements. And with more Vulcan dominance than he'd shown, he held her hips down as his tongue explored her skin despite her protestations. The mist had turned to the lightest rain, which refreshed her and sparked more desert blooms to bud to life.

"Yes," she whispered.

Sniffing at the air, she could smell the salt from his body and relished it. She could hear the rumbling of his heart as if it was thunder on the horizon.

She could feel that he enjoyed the loamy feeling between his toes as his body hovered over hers. His face bore a smile, as radiant as the sun itself and his lightly tanned skin shone under a cloudless blue sky, despite it being near dusk. As he shifted his weight and prepared for their union, she halted his movements and pushed him tenderly beneath her. Kneeling over him, she corrected his thinking.

"I want to worship you, my husband."

Their meld reflected both mental and physical world as one as the two united.

-----

Epilogue

T'Pol and Archer got married in a small ceremony in front of a firepot that guarded a large gong in Sovok's courtyard. This ritual filled with archaic Vulcan was just a formality for the rites they'd shared in private last night … when they'd shared more than just their bodies -- their minds joined for all eternity.

T'Pol, dressed in a long red robe that V'Lin wore stood before the priest, her face stoic and yet her eyes glistened. Archer stood beside her, covered in the long sandy-colored robe of Sovok and tried to remain calm, though he shot her a smile from time-to-time. Saaya and Sovok touched fingers and V'Lin by the two thought that T'Pol's mother, had she lived, would've been proud and … happy.

When the priest finished, he looked at the two and then nodded to Archer. Instead of leaning to give his wife a kiss, he reached up his fingers – as he understood was the custom – and touched his forefinger and middle with hers as the two listened to Sovok ring the gong to conclude the ceremony.

Vulcans didn't take honeymoons, but T'Pol and Archer arranged to do something that was extended to her as a courtesy a week before, something that was long overdue: a visit to V'Lar's tomb in the Great Hall.

The custom was to leave a memory and take one, sharing bits of yourself with a ghost; the Hall guardian would perform the ritual with a select group, only those invited. T'Pol counted herself fortunate to be chosen, especially since it seemed no one else was hovering around. In some respects V'Lar's family's disdain for her was a blessing; it afforded her silence and more time alone with her old mentor.

Staring at the stone doors in front of her, she pushed with all her might as one groaned open, allowing her entrance. As she stepped into the mausoleum, torches flickered in the blackened room, lighting the way. The atmosphere was deathly silent, except for the low chanting of the guardian, and the air smelled stale – like hundreds of bodies were buried in the crypts and caves of this place.

"T'Pol of Shi'Kahr," whispered the guardian. He was a gnarled figure – old, even by Vulcan standards, with a head full of white hair. A coldness permeated his eyes, a stiffer logic than she had ever witnessed.

Nervously, her foot stepped forward and she nodded into the shadows.

This, the most sacred of rites, was always bound in mystery. During the Kolinahr, young Vulcans learned of the katra and the Great Hall, but precious little time was spent preparing them if they were ever called. All they knew is that it was a great privilege, an honor even … a clandestine one.

The guardian bowed long and low, and then pointed a crooked finger. "Take off your cloak. These things I tell you, are for you alone."

"I bring my mate. He was a friend to V'Lar," she said. Archer tiptoed behind her, intent on the old man's words.

"His name is Archer, and if you have touched V'Lar's mind, you know she would welcome him."

The old Vulcan nodded slowly. "He may attend."

Whispering the secrets of the ancients with a voice that waved with age, his words flowed monotonously as if it were weighed by mathematical equations and theorems.

"The mind is the keeper of logic. The katra is the keeper of our spirit. The flesh is the vessel that sustains us. It is these ingredients that make us Vulcan. Without the mind, to make us rationed or reasoned – we would be barbarians, heathens. Without the katra, we would not be curious for knowledge. Without the flesh, we would not be able to enact reason or seek knowledge. Even in death, when the flesh dies, the katra can remain and depart wisdom to us. It is this wisdom and knowledge that we seek. It is this knowledge and wisdom that is here, in the Great Hall, for the ages."

She felt Archer near her stagger as she herself felt dizzy.

"Touch V'Lar's thoughts," the priest instructed.

Walking with frozen feet toward V'Lar's preserved – almost mummified - corpse, T'Pol pressed her fingertips against the temple of her childhood hero. The memory she departed was special and meaningful to her: meeting her at the conference as a young woman.

In a room filled with the most intelligent Vulcan scientists, philosophers, diplomats and leaders, T'Pol – a young woman - timidly asked a question. As the other Vulcans in their room barely masked their disdain, the ambassador threw a mild eyebrow at her and allowed her eyes to twinkle. Asking her name, V'Lar answered the question in detail and then suggested they talk more after the seminar. When they did, V'Lar commented that T'Pol would make a fine ambassador one day. T'Pol, mesmerized by the woman, made a vow in her heart to follow the woman's footsteps. It's how why she volunteered for the Ministry of Defense, the Vulcan High Command and eventually accepted a position aboard Enterprise. V'Lar was her hero.

Waiting, she paused as the priest strode toward her.

"Are you ready to receive V'Lar's memory for you to remember?"

"Yes," T'Pol said closing her eyes and clasping Jonathan's hand.

She saw V'Lar at the portal of Enterprise. Archer held her bags and T'Pol had opened the door. From the ambassador's point of view, she watched a generation of Vulcans changing; the humans were not as barbaric as the Vulcan High Command had led her to believe. The man named Archer, T'Pol's friend, was someone who commanded respect and a certain amount of admiration. He'd risked his ship and everyone's lives on his science officer's words and trusting in her judgment. Nothing about risking his ship followed logic, at least not the kind that V'Lar was used to; the man relied on his emotions in a way she hadn't entirely expected. The rationale was based on friendship.

Yes, she sensed a connection between them – a spark that would bring the two races closer to each other … possibly closer than either would expect.

"I sense a great bond between you," she said.

With amusement, she watched the two shoot each other a timid (yet curious) glance. She was an old woman and had lived for many years; the signs of loyalty, friendship and interest – no matter the species – never really escaped her notice. With that, she'd opened a figurative door that had firmly remained closed and accepted her bag from the captain while wishing T'Pol well.

When the door behind her closed, she wondered what would happen to the two of them and whether their instincts – human and Vulcan – would interfere with a friendship or something deeper. V'Lar took her seat in the ship and ruminated about unexpected couples. Surak and Rama came to mind, a story she enjoyed hearing in her childhood; no Vulcan with dignity to acknowledge that was a beautiful and angst-ridden story. At least, none that she would know.

T'Pol closed her eyes and the priest nodded. "That is all."

That is certainly enough, T'Pol thought.

Sharing the memories with Jonathan, connecting their foreheads for just a moment, he purred a laugh and she nuzzled into him.

"Do you want to stay and think about things?" he asked. "I know you've been bombarded by my emotions."

She shook her head. "I will be for the rest of my life."

The two left the old building, hand-in-hand, and stood under the night sky.

"You miss Porthos," she said.

Rubbing the back of his knuckles against her cheek, he disagreed. "My life, right now, feels perfect, but it would be nice to see him again."

Looking into his eyes, she could feel the warmth spread through his blood and heat his skin. "Yes."

They hadn't arranged any time alone, combining their quarters, but he thought about it. And for some reason the fact that he'd considered made her content. Reaching into his pocket, for what she thought might be his communicator, he pulled out a ring.

"You know, humans have their own rituals about weddings," he said. Getting down on one knee – knowing the time would never be right – he asked for her hand.

"We are already man and wife."

He laughed. "This makes it official."

Opening the box, she found an emblem that resembled the IDIC on the ring.

"Perfect," she marveled.

"Sorry the circumstances aren't more romantic."

She shook her head. "I find them very romantic."

"Then you say 'yes'?"

As if he'd uttered the absurd, she gazed at him with confusion. "Of course."

Under the starry sky, they kissed. When they parted, she agreed – which seemed would happen anyway and he reached for his communicator. They'd have a lot of explaining to do when they reached Enterprise, but now wasn't the time. Indicating they were on their way to leave, the two stepped into the shuttle, the one they'd parked at the mouth of the Great Hall.

"Would you like to --?" she asked.

He shrugged. "I'm not really your captain again yet. Whatever you want."

Sliding behind the pilot's station, she watched him climb in at the passenger's seat.

"I'm sorry for everything you've been through," she said.

Already breathing a little easier under the Earth-controlled gravity, he dismissed her comment. "Why? The end result was what we wanted."

"You wanted to initially see Vulcan."

"And I did, through your eyes."

"It seems both of us has shown each other our world."

"We sure have," he said.

"Do you know what else is fairly certain?" she asked.

He gave a tiny smile. "What?"

"The Pon Farr was successful."

"Successful?" he asked.

Turning her attention to the control panel in front of her, she gave the faintest of grins. Waiting for him to speak, she blinked at him and let her eyes smile.

"Successful." She looked toward her own stomach.

As his jaw dropped, unable to speak, she alerted Enterprise of their location as she maneuvered the vessel to fit in the bay doors. The ship climbed into the docking bay and T'Pol leaned in.

She said, "Two things are certain: we should move into one cabin right away, and it will need to be larger than we initially estimated."

The end.

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A/N: Thanks everyone. Again, sorry about the long wait. I hope the end was fairly satisfactory. I sure had a lot of trouble wrapping it up.