Chapter Six – Of Chances and Choices

Debriefing with the Tanaar captain had lasted most of the day, and Archer was exhausted. Captain Leev-Sran displayed all the curiosity he'd come to associate with Ikaarans, but her questioning also held all the authority of command. He tried not to be annoyed by the air of demand, probably wholly unintentional, that the Tanaar's captain gave off. Several times Esilia interceded, and he got the distinct impression that she was less about appeasing her captain, and more interested in soothing his ruffled feathers. Still, he felt patronized, especially when it became apparent that Ikaaran technology was significantly more advanced than Earth's.

Had T'Pol been in better health, he would have left the debriefing in her hands. Her unending patience and lack of ego to bruise was much better suited to handle what felt to Archer like an interrogation. He pettily reminded himself that Enterprise had come to Tanaar's rescue, not the other way around. And he felt a surge of pride as Esilia demonstrated all of the upgrades Trip had made to her scout ship, advances that the Ikaarans could have performed themselves had it ever occurred to them to do so. Still, after a lengthy discussion with Leev-Sran, a stem-to-stern tour of Enterprise, and a thorough inspection of Esilia's scout, he was worn out. He had all but ordered T'Pol to her quarters after an early dinner, and then had retreated to his Ready Room, catching up on all the paperwork which had piled up during the day. That had taken him well into the evening shift. And he still had to speak to Esilia.

At the end of the debriefing session, she had approached him, strangely diffident in the presence of her own captain. "I would like to speak to you later, if you have time. My captain intends to leave just as soon as her engineers have completed the inspection of my ship."

Thinking of all of the work he still had to do, he had promised to come by her quarters before retiring for the night. So now he stood outside the guest cabin, wondering if this were really such a good idea. Before he could talk himself out of it, he pressed the door chime and waited.

Esilia had already packed the few pieces of clothing and personal items retrieved from her ship over the past several days. She moved the Starfleet-issue duffel bag off of the low couch and sat down. After a pause, Archer sat next to her. If she were human, he would have said she looked depressed.

She handed him a padd. "I asked our ship's medic to download information about my people, medical data and some of our cultural literature. Ensign Sato should be able to translate it. There's no reason to think we won't encounter each other again."

"Thanks. I'm sure Hoshi will appreciate the project." He sensed she had other things on her mind, so he waited. For a usually talkative person, she seemed to be having a hard time choosing her words.

"I'm sorry we didn't get to continue our conversation in the Mess Hall. There are many questions I still have."

"Do you ever run out of questions?" Where did that teasing tone come from? Why was he suddenly sitting so close to her? He clenched his fingers tightly around the padd, trying to get control of the suggestions running through his mind and the sensations running through his body. Even the way she tipped her head up to look at him, a gesture completely necessary and rational, given the difference in their heights, provoked the most irrational urge to bend and kiss her. She had a disconcerting tendency to hold eye contact, with an expression of absorbed interest that was as frankly sexual as it was completely unintended. Locked in her gaze, he felt warm all over, as if his whole body were blushing.

"Oh, no, I want to know everything about you." She smiled, with a little mischief. "Like, what are those things on your face for?" Archer furrowed his brow, about to ask what she was talking about, when she added, "Yes, those! And they move!" She reached out a finger and touched his left eyebrow, tracing it from inner to outer end. Archer wasn't sure, but he thought he felt a tingle. "It's like fur," she commented softly.

He cleared his throat. "Those are eyebrows, and I don't know what exactly they do. I guess they're just for decoration." Her finger stroked the right eyebrow and Archer stifled a groan. Okay, there was definitely some tingling going on there. He thought he should move away, put some space between himself and this alien woman, who may or may not be trying to seduce him. He didn't move a muscle.

"They're soft. Your face is so interesting, even though you don't have a guyan," she let her forefinger trail down the bridge of his nose, "rough and smooth all at the same time – "

Desperate to shut her up, Archer leaned in and kissed her, a first date kiss, all firm possibility. Drawing back, he looked into her surprised black eyes. "What was that?" she whispered.

"That was a kiss," he answered huskily, and cut off her follow up question with a second date kiss, a little more open, a little less firm. "Breathe through your nose," he murmured against her mouth, and moved in for a third date kiss. She got the hang of it pretty quickly. Her fingers lifted to his face and yes, there was a definite electrical sensation as they traced his cheekbones and jaw. He didn't protest at all, he couldn't, as those fingers moved down his throat to the vee of skin above the second button of his black jersey. She eased the zipper of his uniform down a bit, but that only revealed more shirt. She seemed a little frustrated that his jumpsuit didn't allow her to have further access to him. He slid his hands beneath the hem of her blouse, and was rewarded with a not-unpleasant prickling sensation in his fingertips. As Esilia drew a deep gasp, Archer decided that skin-to-skin contact was the point of this exercise. Capturing her mouth again, he let his hands roam over her ribcage, and around to her spine, eliciting a delighted response. He began to lower her gently to her back, not caring that the narrow couch was not built for two people.

He could feel the heat of her hands through his clothing; impressive, that, since he was wearing his customary three layers. The tingling feeling spread throughout his body with an intensity he'd never felt before . . .

Except once.

He froze, mid-motion, a cold feeling washing over him. Raijin. This electricity, this heat, it all reminded him of the Xindi-recruited spy, another damsel in distress, who had run her talented hands over his body, all the while scanning his physiology for information to make a bio-weapon. How could he be so careless, twice? Would he never learn? Here he was, alone in a room with an alien woman he knew precious little about, with his guard - and his zipper - down. Even if Ikaarans were not a species hostile to humans - a novel concept in and of itself - he couldn't assume that this kind of intimate contact wasn't dangerous or even lethal. He didn't know; maybe Ikaaran women killed their mates during or after sex. Or, just as likely, he could end up "Tripped" - accidentally pregnant with an alien baby. He fought down a surge of panic.

Removing his hands from her waist, his lips from hers, he pulled abruptly away. Esilia looked up in confusion, still flushed a pale lavender, as he stood and backed up two paces. He took several deep breaths, trying to ignore the betrayed expression on the Ikaaran's face. "I'm sorry. I can't."

She didn't say anything at all, and for once, he wished she would batter him senseless with her normal torrent of words. Lamely, he said into the silence, "It's not you," and winced, aware of how trite that sounded. "I just . . . I can't. I'm sorry." Without another word from either of them, Archer let himself out of the room.

x x x

Enterprise's second and third in command spent a great deal of time the following morning exchanging concerned glances behind the captain's back as they gathered once again at the docking port. Esilia's ship had been moved to the launch bay of the Tanaar, and now she was taking her leave of the Earth vessel. Whatever easy rapport she and the captain had achieved during the debriefing session the previous day was gone. Archer seemed stiff and awkward; the usually garrulous Ikaaran was quiet. Not even Trip could evoke much response as he reminded her of the modifications and repairs his staff had made to her ship.

"Remember, you gotta go easy on the throttle, since your top speed is nowtwo point eight instead of two point two," the engineer cautioned, with the same intensity he employed to lecture people about Enterprise's own warp engine. "You might find yourself overshooting your target until you get used to it. And those manifolds should last you for a couple dozen light years at least."

"I appreciate all you've done, Commander," Esilia replied, shaking his hand firmly, "everybody's been very accommodating. Perhaps in the near future, I – we will have a chance to repay you for your hospitality." She looked at Archer briefly, then away.

"That's not necessary," the captain said quietly. He could feel T'Pol's eyes on him, and knew her well enough to tell that she was slightly irritated with him, or maybe just disappointed.

Esilia reached into her duffel bag and pulled out a padd. "I meant to return this to you last night, Captain." She handed it to him under Trip's interested gaze. "The medical and cultural information."

Archer took the padd, then decided to bite the bullet. He grasped Esilia lightly by the elbow and took a few steps away from Trip and T'Pol, turning his back to them. The airlock light was still red, so he had a few seconds. Pitching his voice low, he said, "It's my turn to apologize to you, Esilia. For last night. I, uh, well, I'm sorry."

True to form, she interrupted him. "I should apologize to you. It was my fault – "

He held up a hand, palm out, and was surprised when she actually stopped talking. "That's not what I mean. I shouldn't have left without any explanation."

"I understand."

Archer closed his eyes for a second. "No, you really don't. It's just that. . . there have been other. . .beings we've come across that – I let my guard down once, and she got information that she shouldn't have." That made little sense, even to him, but he went on as he saw, out of the corner of his eye, the airlock seal light turn green. "When you touched me, it felt. . .similar, and I got spooked."

"Spooked?" Esilia echoed, distracted by a new idiom.

"Look it up. The point is, it wasn't unwelcome, it just happened so fast. I wasn't ready for it." He searched her expression for understanding and forgiveness.

She looked down at the padd he held. "Well, as I said last night, there's no reason to think we won't encounter each other again." The way her voice trailed off clearly added, Unless you want me to stay . . .

The airlock door slid open. Archer offered his hand, sandwiching her long fingers between his warm palms. She searched his face one last time before smiling sweetly and saying, "Goodbye, Captain Archer."

"Safe journey," he responded, and almost didn't watch as she passed through the airlock and into the Ikaaran shuttle. She waved to Commander Tucker and Sub-Commander T'Pol, another human mannerism she'd picked up, and was gone.

Archer knew that T'Pol could not help but overhear that last conversation. He could also read her opinion in the Vulcan's completely impassive face.

Trip finished sealing off the airlock and automatically laid a hand on the small of T'Pol's back, a gesture he used often lately, since the loss of the baby. It was discreet enough; T'Pol didn't protest or move away. She couldn't help him in his grief, but she would refrain from doing anything to make it worse. She wished there were a similar action that would help the captain.

Archer squared his shoulders and she could have mouthed the words right along with him as he muttered, "I'll be in my Ready Room." No doubt he would hide there all day, and, should she seek him out, she would find him there, much later, staring out at the stars. He turned and walked down the corridor slowly, his entire aspect that of a man who was as certain as any human could be that he had made the wrong decision.