A/N: Archangemon, thank you for your comments! You're not a pest at all. I enjoy hearing your thoughts, including things you like or don't like.
Aww, I'm sorry I disappointed you. I'll tip my hand. This story is primarily about T'Pol and her recovery. The story is secondarily about Archer. The story is thirdly about their friendship and her friendship with her two other close friends – Trip and Phlox.
In Between Friends and Goodnight Enterprise, Archer realizes he's in love with her. In fact, he pops Trip in the jaw almost severing his tongue. So, hopefully it's not a surprise when Archer admits how he feels himself here. I think it's not out of character for Archer to always feel that way, but to stuff down those feelings and conveniently forget them. If you've read Goodnight Enterprise (which you really should if you haven't – it would be a treat to the eyes and brain), you know nothing happens between Archer and T'Pol until that story which is approximately two or three years in the future.
Onto your other question: is this going to be all angst-filled? No, not the kind that I think usually plays out. Love is about sacrifice and his main objective is to make sure she gets better. Period. I hope that what the audience sees, partly, is how he and T'Pol continue to grow closer so that when the story in Goodnight Enterprise happens, we know why they feel this way and why it's been apparent to everyone else (which is a comment in the story) of how the two feel.
On the matter of Two Things… I don't want hate mail on what I'm about to tell you: it's already written. The problem is: it's lacking a certain something. Zest. Zeal. I'd like the ending (and toward the ending) to be full of gusto. I promise to have this done before October and will even release it sans gusto if necessary.
Goshabyn! You're not going to post more of The Ambassador until I'm done? I'm going to work harder on cranking this out, then!
T'Pol lay back on the biobed watching intently as the doctor checked her vital signs; it was a procedure he performed once per day, but something she still had difficulty sitting still for. The scanner waved over her with grave "hmms" – it always made her uncomfortable. She knew her own progress had been poor, even worse than it had been a couple of weeks ago when the doctor first voiced his concern.
Although she'd regained limited use of her limbs, she could barely sign her name on a duty roster much less force the large circles on her wheelchair forward. As Phlox touched her hand, he checked her pulse the old fashioned way. The Vulcan suspected he liked to test whether she still flinched at their connection.
Gazing at her with a frown, she could only surmise she trembled a little at their skin's contact.
"I've been meaning to talk with you about something," he said.
She pointed a brow in his direction. "Oh?"
"Enterprise is heading to a small planet for a little rest and relaxation."
"Elona," she said. "The captain wanted a recommendation for shore leave."
"Yes." He paused. "I've asked the captain to take you off the duty roster …."
"I'm only working two hours a day, and Vulcans don't--" she began.
He noticed the way she still spoke about her species with disgust and he frowned a little because of it. "You need a break. You need some time to rest and recuperate."
"Doctor, I don't need time away; I can rest in my quarters."
"I know better than that. The answer is 'no.'"
T'Pol continued. "You recommended two weeks ago we converse once a day about what happened on the planet, and I've filled that request." She knew she hadn't been very cooperative.
Phlox said, "You're not getting better as quickly as you should."
As she was about to object, he chimed in. "It's already been decided that you're taking a break."
Her lips flattened.
"I've been discussing who would help you while you're on Elona," he said.
"I don't need--"
"How about Captain Archer?"
Her pulse raced and her breathing turned to a mild pant. Panic. Swallowing, she tried to calm her body so it didn't betray her. "The action doesn't seem wise," she said.
"You told me that you were interested in determining what your issues with Archer were."
"But …."
"I won't push you into anything." The doctor glanced at the monitor above her head.
"Then I prefer not to go."
His finger wagged in front of her. "You're going. You just have control over who helps you."
She waited.
"Because there are lingering issues with Commander Tucker and I, you could choose one of us."
Her eyes met the ground as she considered the information.
Phlox said, "I suggested Captain Archer because I think it's imperative, as the first officer of this vessel, that you and the captain come to trust each other again. This seems like an opportune time."
"I disagree."
"What do you propose?" he asked.
Blinking slowly, she looked down at her recovering (but still somewhat lame) hands. "I don't know," she said.
"I know he still frightens you. You've said you've been meditating on it nightly, but you haven't made any progress." It was a summation of every discussion they'd had for two weeks. "This might be an opportunity for you to explore why."
Ducking her head, vulnerable, her eyes pleaded his. "I'd prefer not to."
"I can't agree to let you go down there alone, and I can't abide by you staying here. Time away will help your body and mind--"
"My mental acuity is fine, --"
"No, it's not." Narrowing his eyes, he spoke a little more sternly to her. "I can't be more plain. As a Vulcan, you should've regained use of your hands. You should be able to walk – of course you'd need some support, but you should be able to walk."
"My--"
"You have strong muscular tissue and excellent reflexes. There's only one thing holding up your progress."
Her head hung against her chest. "My mind is sound."
"You've been unable to concentrate, unable to meditate as you once did, unable to recall events that happened on the surface. Going to Elona is a medical order."
She remained quiet.
"I've made a suggestion that I think will help, but the decision is ultimately yours."
The woman's eyes darted from left to right. "How long?"
"We could try a few days and see what happens."
She kept her jaw clenched and her body was still rigid with tension.
"I'll check in on you … that is, if you feel comfortable with it."
"I'd like to think on the matter."
He nodded. Waddling toward her, he picked her up and helped her into her wheelchair. As usual, she stiffened to his touch but allowed the exercise to continue, mostly because she knew it meant she didn't have to be in Sickbay any longer. Pushing her through the corridor, they rounded a bend and nearly ran into Trip.
The blonde smiled.
"Hey, there," he said. "I can take if from here, Doc … if you want."
The Denobulan smiled. "By all means." Looking back at his patient, he said, "Let me know your decision."
Phlox turned on his heel, without waiting for her response, and Trip began to whistle as he pushed T'Pol through the hallways to her room. When they stopped in front of her place, he grinned.
"Here you are, ma'am," he said. With the flick of his wrist, he welcomed her in and then guided her in.
"Thank you," she said. Amusement glimmered in her eyes.
"I hear you're taking a vacation."
The delight extinguished and her brow furrowed. "I've received a medical order."
"Hell, I know half the crew would love the kinda order you just got. I've listened to Rostov bitch all morning about being in the third group to get to the planet."
"I don't understand why I can't remain on the vessel."
He scratched his nose and then looked down at his shoes. "T'Pol, I gotta agree with Phlox. You've been …."
She blinked and then he shook his head, proceeding. "You've been actin' weird. I know you've been through a lot. A hell of a lot. And I think taking a little R and R won't kill ya."
"I do not wish to go."
"Remember last week?" he asked.
Avoiding his eyes, she gazed at the starfish like pattern of the relief that hung on her wall – a fossil from the first planet she'd ever explored.
"You woke up screaming," he said.
She didn't answer.
"I know you relive what happened on that God forsaken planet, but …. You need to move on."
"How can I?" she asked.
"Well, I think that's Doc's point. By getting away from things, you should be able to put a little distance on what happened."
"He's recommended the captain watch over me."
"What do you think about that?" he asked.
Clearing her throat, she slowly met his gaze almost too afraid to admit the emotion that strangled her throat. The commander had been her friend, and at one time more, so she exhaled silently and told him the answer.
"The idea frightens me, Trip."
"You've known the captain more than four years."
"Yes."
"Trusted him about that long?"
"Yes."
"Do you think he'd do anything to hurt you?"
"No."
He shrugged. "I don't understand the problem."
Quietly, she decided to answer her friend – it was something she'd already divulged to Phlox … it didn't make any sense to keep it from Trip who may have insight into the matter.
"When I hear his voice, I think of my time on Salanacon."
Trip frowned. "Why?"
"I don't know."
Withdrawing from his gaze, squirming from it, she fixed her eyes on the ground.
"Well, you shouldn't do anything you feel uncomfortable about," he said, after a few minutes of silence.
"Dr. Phlox commented that I would need to trust the captain before I could return to duty."
Trip nodded. "That sounds … logical. Hard to be the first officer if you can't work with the captain."
"Perhaps I should give up the position of first officer."
"Maybe. Is that what you'd like to do?"
"No."
"Then, maybe you should take Phlox up on his advice."
"I'm not ready."
"When will you be?" he asked. "Seems like you're not making a lot of progress."
That wasn't what she wanted to hear.
"He's not gonna stick you there alone is he?" Trip asked.
"No. He did indicate he would visit me every few days."
"Maybe you can suggest every day until you feel comfortable."
"Perhaps."
"T'Pol, everyone wants to help you. I think whatever decision you make is the right one … something everyone will support you on … even the captain."
"I know."
"We have a couple of days until we reach Elona. Gives you some time to think about it."
"Thank you," she said.
He gave her a smile and then patted her arm. Turning to leave he looked over his shoulder.
"You know … you could talk with him," he said.
"No."
"You talked with me." Giving her a warm grin, he continued. "That seemed to help."
The two watched each other for a few minutes. In the smallest of voices, not the one usually owned by her, she said a few words.
"Trip, you've always been a close friend."
Mildly, he chuckled. "Nah … not always."
She had to agree; there were times when she'd wished the man's mouth would remain permanently closed and that his dramatics would come to a halt, but those days had been some time ago. They'd given way to something that had become a spark between them – energy. That too had dissolved into the comfort of friends.
"And yet … there was a time when we were closer still," she said.
Looking down at his shoes, he agreed.
"I had my doubts about telling you. I was concerned you'd take it personally."
"But, I didn't."
"No."
"Maybe Captain Archer wouldn't it personally."
"It's not the same. Smelling you, hearing your voice … you never reminded me of Salanacon." She paused, pleading him with her eyes. "Captain Archer …. Everything about him reminds me of the events."
Trip gave a sad nod. "Seems like the only thing to do is figure out why."
She shook her head a little more fiercely than she'd intended.
"Whatever you want to do, T'Pol. I support you. Okay?"
Turning her eyes to her lap, she agreed. "All right."
With that, he left. When the door closed T'Pol struggled to wheel herself to her bed and drape a shawl over her. Cold. Dread spread down her spine and made her skin prickle and her body shake. It was the icy chill of memories – horrible ones.
What she couldn't tell Trip that was: Archer didn't just remind her of Salanacon, he reminded her of Ral …..
It was impossible to imagine withstanding even three days with the smell of rotting corpses souring her nose or seeing red eyes against a black backdrop trained on her. Shuddering, she couldn't live with hearing the captain say something to her and thinking that it was the villainous whisper of her captor.
Since she'd been talking with Phlox, she'd had flashes of what must be memories. Events that she'd been blocking out, not just suppressing, but repressing, had haunted her now with a vengeance.
Ral's voice had senselessly murmured words in her ear about all the atrocities committed to his people, his father in particular, as he snipped at her ears, broke her bones and poured chlorine down her throat.
"It's too bad you have to suffer for other Vulcans' mistakes," he'd told her. "It's too bad I have to teach you a lesson."
To her disgust, even as she heard the splatter of her flesh and blood echoing through the cave, she'd remembered nodding feebly as if they had made mistakes that someone should pay for …. She wasn't sure even now she disagreed.
"I hate having to do this to you," he'd said. His tongue had barely lapped at her mouth while she'd felt her life force flow from her body.
Quaking, at the memories, she'd recognized they didn't feature Ral as she'd rationally remembered him; the visions blurred with the image of Archer. In her recollections, his green eyes piercing stared down at her and she thought she heard his voice call out, dripping with menace.
"It's a pity you were born Vulcan."
TBC