A/N: Archangemon, thanks for the follow up. You're not a jerk, so no worry there. Reviews are supposed to be honest; I doubt anyone is offended. I'm glad you continue to write in.
You said, "an remember they cant get too close since in good night enterprise they seem to have never have this little get together maybe a working relationship an stronger friendship but no deep emotional bond thing."
Yes, that's precisely right. Here's the deal. T'Pol has conflict – how does she recover from tragic events? I wanted Archer to have a little conflict as well: how does he have a deep friendship with her without letting it become romantic (despite his feelings).
Goodnight Enterprise hit me as a story about two people who'd cared for each other a long time. The writer indicated that (to paraphrase) everyone knew there was something between them, an unspoken love that brought tears to young women's eyes and a flush to young men's cheeks.
T'Pol, I'm not sure, knew how she felt. But, why else would she put up with crazy in-laws who were out to kill her, a man who dumped chlorine on her leg, etc.?
It seems Archer, though, knew how he felt. He'd been holding back his feelings. In Goodnight Enterprise, for example, the writer alludes to Archer and Trip getting into a fight over T'Pol. Somehow the argument manages to break Trip and T'Pol up, though T'Pol (years later) tells Archer it wasn't over him. And yet … you get the feeling that was a component.
Telaka: Namaste.
She'd meditated on the decision – whether to agree with Phlox's suggestion about vacationing with Archer – almost nightly for the past week. It wasn't easy to determine, despite knowing the logical course of action. Logical. Staying with Captain Archer on a planet while she recovered made sense; it would rebuild the trust between them.
And yet … the very electrified every tendon with dread.
Looking at the flame, flickering on the end of the wick of her candle, she felt resolved enough to contact the doctor and was about to do so when she heard a chime at the door.
Sliding open the door, the man on the other side gave a troubled smile.
"Can I come in?" Archer asked. His face hell at her hesitation and he added a negotiation. "I can leave the door open."
"Come in," she said.
Listening to his voice and drinking in the odor of decay, Ral's scent, caused a shudder to ripple through her body. Her stomach tensed and she attempted, fruitlessly, to curl her fists into a ball as a red panic streaked through her.
"Thanks," he said. About to tap the button to close the door, he instead ensured it stayed open. "It's been a while."
It had been. She hadn't seen Captain Archer for a week, since Phlox broached the subject of staying with him, and even before then they had little interaction. Most of their correspondences had boiled down to strictly orders to first officer and responses to a captain, and much of them were written instructions or quick com conversations.
"How ya feeling?" he asked.
Breathing deeply, trying to relax, she allowed the discussion to continue. Every now and then, though, she felt her eyes dodge to the hallway as if she'd choose to flee.
T'Pol said, "Better."
"Good."
"I've confirmed the duty roster and have no additional changes. Did you want to review it again?"
She was about to wheel over to a PADD filled with names, when his voice halted her.
"No, I'm sure everything's in order." He sighed, scanning the ceiling with his eyes and then locking his gaze with hers. "Phlox talked with me about … well about the recommendation he made to you. He wanted to make sure I was okay staying with you."
She watched him fidget, shifting his weight from one leg to another.
He said, "I know it bothers you. You shouldn't feel uncomfortable telling Phlox 'no.'"
When she didn't respond, he kept going. "And frankly, I'm willing to overlook his medical order. I mean … I'm okay with you staying in your quarters."
This had been something she'd pondered late into the night. Although at the moment she was effective in her quarters as the first officer, she knew she wouldn't be for long. There'd come a day when they'd need someone who could relay orders from the Bridge on the spot, like during an emergency. Right now, she'd determined, she was a liability as first officer, and wasn't even excelling as a science officer; because of her limited range of motion, her analysis of scans was slow.
It made her wonder why the captain didn't just give everything to Engle who currently manned her station. The young man was somewhat inexperienced, but competent.
"I can't be effective from my quarters any longer," she said.
"Trip's been helping out when he can."
"I believe we both know that's not enough."
His frown widened.
She said, "Commander Tucker and I discussed the possibility that I give up my position."
"You mean as first officer?"
"Yes." Her eyes fell to the ground.
"Is that what you want?"
"No. That's why I've decided Phlox's recommendation has merit."
"I don't want anyone to push you--"
"No one has coerced me. It is merely the most … logical course of action." Internally, she spat the word "logic."
"There's no rush."
"I know."
"T'Pol, relying on emotion, even for a Vulcan, is okay. When humans have visceral reactions to--"
"My belongings will be packed by noon tomorrow."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
About to step toward her, he held back rocking gently on his heels – antsy. "Maybe we … can … I don't know … discuss some boundaries or conditions. I don't want to do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable."
Staring down at her thumbs, she spoke quietly to him. "I apologize that my emotions have been so transparent. I was unaware you knew how I felt."
"It's okay."
"No. It's--"
"Really, it's okay."
"It's illogical--"
He waved her off, dismissing further apologies. "Forget it."
"But--"
"Forget it." Smiling, he added, "Consider it an order, Sub-commander."
Nodding, she stared down. "Yes, sir."
He sighed. "Okay."
Staring into his eyes and ignoring the horror that threatened to cave her resolve, she took a deep breath.
"Captain, perhaps you can close the door?"
He furrowed his brow and then pushed the button near the portal. Sliding with a hiss, it closed behind him.
"What is it?" he asked.
T'Pol licked her lips, still watching her feet that had been broken too badly to stand, and then spoke to him in the quietest of voices.
"I … there is no way to appropriately say this," she said.
"What?"
"I … you remind me of the planet. You remind me of … you remind me of him."
"Him?" He seemed to know exactly who that was, though she'd never mentioned it.
"Yes."
The pupils of his iris expanded and for a moment she thought his eyes became watery. When she blinked, they were clear as if there'd never been anything there.
"I haven't done anything, have I?" he asked.
"No."
"I'm sorry. I've been--"
"There's no need to apologize."
He scratched the back of his neck. "Still …. I don't know--"
"You've done nothing, Captain."
After letting a few seconds of silence pass, he cleared his throat. "Phlox or Trip should be able to help you, and both need time away --"
"No."
"T'Pol, don't do this to prove anything to me."
"I'm not."
"I'm sure it's only a matter of time before you overcome this."
"No. Dr. Phlox is correct. I can hardly be your first officer if I continue to feel this way."
"This will pass." With a lilt in his voice, he said, "After all, you initially didn't want to work with me."
With a serious tone, she contradicted him. "This is different."
Absent mindedly, he sat down at the edge of her bed. "Everything is fine the way it is."
"No, it isn't."
With a long sigh, he stared down at her bed.
"Accompany me to the planet," she said.
"Now this doesn't seem like such a good idea."
"I don't believe I have a choice."
"You always have a choice."
It occurred to her that perhaps he didn't want to invest his time this way. "Unless, you would rather not. I don't want to impose on you."
His fingers wrapped around his chin and he stared at the deck plating for a moment before answering her.
He said, "No." His voice was unconvincing.
"You also should not feel coerced."
He said, "No. No, that's not it. I mean, I don't like the way it makes you feel, T'Pol."
She was quiet, watching the furrow in his brow spread across his face to show more wrinkles.
"This would help me greatly."
"I don't know."
"I do."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
He was about to shake his head, when her voice betrayed a little emotion.
"I will not pretend that the thought of spending time with you is terrifying. But, that is the very reason I need your help, Captain. Please."
His eyes met hers and she asked again. "Please. I never ask much of you."
He agreed, softly. "You never do."
With a long sigh, he nodded. "All right. I … I suppose it wouldn't kill me to take a little break," he said. A small smile formed over his lips uneasily.
"Thank you."
"I'll meet you tomorrow at noon? I could pick you up on the way to the transporter."
She watched him stand, open the door and take one last look at her before leaving.
"See you tomorrow," he said, on his way out.
When the door closed, she released a slow cleansing breath. What felt like needles poking her skin were bound to reoccur now at least for the next week. Even now, when he'd sat on her bed, entering her personal space, the base of her neck throbbed uncontrollably with panic. As her fingers smoothed the skin at her throat where the flesh jumped, she closed her eyes.
This does not bode well.
With resolve, she chanted over and over in her mind the words: "The decision has been made."
The chime at her door let her know what time it was: noon. The captain's punctuality, only on this occasion, unnerved her. Settling the cramping of her stomach, she wheeled gingerly to the portal to let him in.
"Captain."
He was wearing casual clothes – something she rarely saw him in - and had a duffle bag thrown over his shoulder. Wearing an awkward smile, he greeted her.
"Are you ready?" he asked.
"Yes."
She began to wheel to her duffle bag, when Archer intervened. "I can get it."
Nodding, she let him grab it and sling it over his other shoulder. Staggering a little under the weight, his grin broadened.
"Whatcha got in here?"
Innocently, she poked an eyebrow at him. "My things."
The two made their way to the transporter and when there, he heaped the bags onto the transporter, activated a ramp to wheel her up to the device, locked her wheelchair and then turned his head to Trip who suddenly appeared.
"Can't have you two go down to the planet without a goodbye," he said.
Archer nodded. "You'll let me know if you have any trouble?"
Trip's mouth sloped up. "I think I can manage just fine, Cap'n."
The two friends locked eyes with each other and Archer turned a little serious. "I know you can, Trip."
Looking at T'Pol, the engineer said, "Lemme know if you need anything. I'm a communicator call away."
Feeling the communicator stuffed under the arm of her Vulcan robe, she nodded. "I will."
Smiling, the commander pressed a few buttons and pulled a bar down until they shimmered into a town that looked something that Risa. It was a tropical paradise with lush vegetation, enormous sun-colored flowers that reminded T'Pol of the Bird of Paradise – an Earth flower she appreciated. Feeling a gentle breeze ruffle her hair, she turned her eyes to the sun; it shone brightly, lighting up an azure-colored sky. Around her green grass, greener the meadows on Earth or the spinach Chef served, covered the ground without a sidewalk in sight. A light music - maybe the rustle of the leaves of the palm trees (or what looked like them) or the sway of the flowers - drifted through the air. Although it wouldn't fit within the confines of what a Vulcan may appreciate; she found it serene.
Archer murmured behind her. "I didn't expect this."
Nor did she. As air filled her lungs and the sun's rays warmed her skin, she almost immediately relaxed even with Archer only a pace or two behind her. Olive-skinned humanoids covered in black, ritualistic tattoos grinned broadly and one, with hair like ebony silk, glided up to them. At first, she spoke in her native tongue and then handed them a receiver that converted her gibberish into words.
"Welcome. I am El'ani." Her gown fluttered in the breeze.
T'Pol gathered, like the Risans, these were simple and immodest people. It's why their planet was unencumbered with vehicles, cement or anything else that didn't belong in nature.
Archer said, "Hi. I'm Captain Jonathan Archer and this is T'Pol."
El'ani said, "I will be your guide while you are here, CaptainJonathanArcher and T'Pol."
The captain's face warmed as the woman couldn't distinguish between his first and last name. "You can just call me Jonathan or Captain."
"Which do you prefer?" she asked.
"Jonathan is fine."
"Your doctor contacted us ahead of time. You are staying at the May-or?"
Archer waited as if the word would be translated. When it wasn't, he furiously dug through his duffle bag, pulled out a PADD, powered it up and then eventually nodded.
"Allow me to escort you," she said. Wrapping her hands around T'Pol's wheelchair, she pushed her to their abode with the captain behind them.
Less than a quarter of a mile away, the reached a small circular house in the middle of palm tree clearing. The outside of the abode was colored in yellows, greens and blues – painted as if it should blend into the palette of the earth and sky. T'Pol noted the house itself was open – windows filled most of the space, as if the people of this planet loved being outside or looking out at the landscape so much they couldn't bear to be without it. The sound of a rumbling sea touched her ears and she wondered how close they were to the ocean. The captain must've had the same thought.
"Smells like salt water," he said.
"Zaya-fola," she whispered. "It's the name of our ocean. You can see if from your balcony upstairs, Jonathan."
She led the two through the front door and their first challenge. T'Pol noted that the living room was sunken, having only two steps leading to it, but enough to make it difficult if not impossible to get down into it. Luckily, the pale blue room was the only one sunken; the mustard-colored kitchen was on the ground floor. Turning to her right, she focused on the staircase and her lips twisted into a vague frown.
The guide shook her head, interpreting a question there. "That is for him. Your room is in the back."
Winding through the kitchen on the other side was a bedroom that was in a word: lavish. The ceiling was painted like the sky – black with small yellow and white dots on it. The walls below were painted in dark oranges and there was a slight hint of floral smell as if it had permeated the sheets. Like the house, the bed was round and ample for her to stretch out her body. Off to the side was a bathroom that contained a sunken tub. This room was covered in a color that reminded T'Pol of lavender – the palest of purples almost bordering on light blue. It was feminine, comforting and relaxing.
Wheeling back into the main room, she noticed a small balcony that looked out into the palm trees. When she squinted, she could barely make out the water through the thick of foliage.
"I'll allow you to get comfortable as I show him to his room," El'ani said.
T'Pol nodded and took a deep breath of fresh air. The captain was right, it had the vaguest smell of salt as if she could lick her lips and taste it. It was also so clean … so pure … so crisp … without the stench of decay or mold. Closing her eyes, she enjoyed the sunshine and felt her neck roll back onto the back of her chair.
Perhaps Dr. Phlox was right.
A planet like this could make her forget everything – about her father, about Vulcan. She could even almost forget Salanacon. Breathing deeply, she opened her eyes to stare into the sun as her nictitating membranes closed over her eyes to shield them from damage.
Archer looked around the house in wonder. For a small space, it seemed spacious enough that T'Pol could have her privacy and he would still have enough room to putter around the place and do the things he needed.
After being guided up the steps, he broke out into a small grin at the upper level – it was one large room with a balcony that overlooked the tree-tops and out at the sandy beach and ocean. Beige and neutral colors covered the walls, as if the decorators didn't want to impede or compete with the spectacular view out his window. Poking his head in the bathroom, he was happy to see something that resembled a shower; he wasn't much into bathtubs. Returning to the view, he leaned against the sliding glass door and sighed.
"You can go on the balcony," El'ani said.
He smiled nervously. "I'm just fine here."
It never made sense to him; he was an avid rock climber – someone who'd scaled the tallest peaks on Earth and yet stepping foot onto a balcony unnerved him … him a captain who'd faced death more than once.
Remembering back, he recalled as a child he'd nearly taken a tumble off one; luckily his father had managed to grab his foot in time as he dangled in midair staring at the ground far below. Jon could never remember how he'd gotten into the situation, but that's when he realized he could always count on his father.
"You won't fall," she said, as if reading his mind.
Opening the sliding glass door, he stared out, careful not to step across the edge. Breathing deeply at the air, he filled his lungs to capacity and let it out slowly.
"Beautiful," he said.
The guide smiled. "I'm glad you like it. It is our intention to please."
That sounded good to him. Maybe taking a little time off wasn't such a bad idea.
"What happened to your companion?" she asked.
The word companion caused his head to whip toward hers. "She was … hurt in the line of duty."
"She seems troubled."
He frowned, nodding.
She said, "This planet is known for its recuperative powers – for its healing effect. Your friend should be well in no time."
I hope so.
"Do you require anything else?" she asked.
"No." He shook his head. "Thanks for your assistance."
He could hear the clip-clop of her sandals against the carpet as she made her way to the door. Before walking through, she turned; he could feel her eyes on him as if wanting to say more.
"I sense a close friendship between you."
"Maybe there was one …."
"There will be again. The planet's healing powers has been known to soothe many things."
"Thank you for your help."
"If you need me again, I will be in the village where you first found me."
With that, she left, and Archer found himself wanting to take a step onto the balcony and stare out at the heavens as the light in the sky turned from blue to the most brilliant tangerine and then to a pale purple.
Traveling amongst the stars was thrilling, but admiring them from afar – millions of light years away – appealed to his poetic side (not that he usually admitted that existed). As a meteor streamed across the sky, he gave a brief smile remembering when his father would encourage a wish. Even then, at the tender age of seven, the he knew such a thing wasn't possible … and yet, he made a wish all the same. He'd made a point of it any time he saw one.
"I hope T'Pol gets better soon," he said to himself.
Turning, he made his way downstairs to see what he could rustle up for dinner for the two of them. Clanging pots and pans, he noticed that T'Pol was still staring out like a zombie into what used to resemble trees, but now only appeared as a field of black … nothingness. It made him frown. He'd seen her nearly catatonic before ... when he'd flung her into his arms, after firing at the Salans, in a desperate measure to bring her back to the ship alive. Though she was talking, the words she formed made no sense; she'd questioned whether to admonish Trip for being late to the rendezvous spot. It made him remember that there was terrible secrets locked away in the young woman, things he would probably never know or understand.
His frown widened.
I hope this planet has recuperative powers.
TBC