A/N: Archangemon, you said, "Wait what ! he owes him huh ? what were who when ! so im confused so sue me but unless i missed something archer gave as good as he got an im sorry but the i already knew about the romulans line come on i mean come on aint that a bit i dont know blah. i mean blah. you that feeling you get when your exited an really hyped about something like its the mega super battle of the century the dude dodges right then left then fakes than he falls down."
Sorry you were confused. I'm not sure exactly what you mean here in your comment. But, here's what happened: Archer met with Harris, Harris strung Archer along (because Harris wants a favor in the future that plays a part in this story). Archer ultimately got what he wanted, the Section 31's prime spy suspect (although we all question what Harris says), but is beholden to Harris (that also plays a part in this story). In the end, Harris got the upper hand, which ticked Archer off.
And, yes, you already knew about the Romulans, but Archer wasn't sure Harris had known. I didn't explain this well (and I debated writing anything – that'll teach me), but the information about the Romulans was on the down low (meaning secret). Archer, against his better judgment, was willing to use it as a bargaining chip.
His ultimate goal, like the audience, is to determine who the spy is.
If I haven't answered your question, I apologize. But, keep watching – Harris will pop back up again … more than once. This is a long fic – think of it as a novel.
It was late, a little after 2100, when T'Pol entered the sanctum of her apartment. Drifting into her abode, she quickly lit all of her candles – the ones in her living room, bedroom, bathroom and the hallways in between. As the flames flickered into existence, sending a spicy aroma around the room, she breathed deeply. With the low lighting dancing off the ceilings and the moonless fall sky, she thought her home reminded her a little of the Vulcan monastery at P'Jem.
Making her way to the monitor in her bedroom at her desk, she sat down and made a call to an old friend. A visage of a gray-haired, brown-eyed man showed up on screen. His eyes twinkled right away.
"Ambassador T'Pol," Soval said.
"Minister Soval." Her eyes gleamed back. " I hope I did not disturb you?"
"Seeing you is never a disruption. T'Mara and I were just finished with dinner."
"You and your wife are well?"
"Yes. I believe T'Mara is … pleased … to be home. Being an Ambassador's wife on Earth had been difficult. And although she does not say so, it is good to be in the company of family again. It is good to be on Vulcan again, but I feel the absence of Earth."
"Your colleagues feel your absence as well."
He titled his head to one side and crinkled his eyes. "It is good of you to say."
"Your daughter, T'Sal?" she said. "Has she had the child?"
"She gives birth in approximately two months time. My wife is … highly anticipating that arrival."
"Minister T'Pau speaks well of you often, and how vital your services are to our planet," T'Pol said.
He responded. "She says the same about you. You are finding your position well-suited?"
Her mouth flattened and trembled only by the slightest fraction. "It's more challenging than I originally anticipated."
"Your friendship with Archer."
Surprise threatened to break her calm Vulcan exterior; he seemed to read her mind.
He said, "They often used it against me as well. Do not take their insults seriously; they are meant to unnerve you."
They were certainly working.
"If they unnerve you, they have power over you," he said.
"Some of these people I would consider allies, like the Denobulan ambassador – Xemax."
Soval pointed a brow in her direction. "You will learn that you have few true allies. As the great philosopher Mila said, 'There are two treacheries in life: betrayal and politics. Often, they are one in the same.'"
Considering the information, she folded her hands in her lap and wondered who exactly her friends were. Thinking for a moment, she hadn't realized Soval had been accused of preference for the admiral; although she knew that the Council members hadn't accused the two men of an intimate relationship, like they'd accused both she and Jonathan.
"You contacted me for something else?" Soval asked.
"Yes," she said, jolted from her silent reflection. "Staron."
"Your aide?"
"Given our situation I had hoped to hear more about him."
Soval seemed to understand instantly because his eyes darkened a little and he looked over his shoulder as if to ensure the room he was in was vacant.
"Staron, in my opinion can be trusted. Although I have found him to be impatient, like someone else who used to be under my stewardship." His eyes focused on her.
The faintest of smiles, only perceivable to those closest to her, twitched onto her face and immediately off. "You know his family?"
"Yes. They are neither too traditional, nor too modern. They have adopted many of the old principles of the Kir'Shara while bringing the new ways with them."
"Staron questions me many times a day."
"He is eager to learn."
"He corrects my actions."
"He has the arrogance of youth and may still feel as he is my aide rather than yours."
"There is a delicate problem that has unraveled. Minister T'Pau has shared what the humans plan to do?" she asked.
"She has."
"Staron has volunteered to attend with Ambassador Simon."
Although the Vulcan appeared saddened, letting his shoulders dip, he shook his head. "T'Pol, you cannot protect him. He makes his own decisions. And I believe you know that he could serve Vulcan in this matter."
She sighed. "You would entrust him to go?"
"I would."
"He is so young."
"You were his age when you served under me. You were placed in harm's way many times."
She stared down at her lap. That was true, she'd been younger than Staron when she'd been assigned to Soval's tutelage.
"You hesitate because you understand the consequences?" he asked.
Looking up at his face, she gave a slight nod.
"T'Pol, that is the greatest challenge of being an ambassador. To do the wrong thing for the right reasons."
The words stung her.
"I thank you for your time," she said.
Soval said a few more words. "Minister T'Pau asked you to be ambassador because you understand the humans, much more so than I ever could."
"That's not true," she said.
"No," he sighed. "No, that is quite accurate. Your accent, the words you use, the emotion in your voice … you can identify with them."
She wasn't sure whether to be flattered or depressed by the statement.
"However, it is not your connection to the humans alone. You have ten years of experience on Enterprise, have helped negotiate the treaty with the Andorians and have served Vulcan loyally for many years. It is the entirety of who you are that earned you a place as ambassador."
"You're saying this to give me confidence?" she asked.
"I would not presume so. Confidence is an emotion. I am simply stating fact."
It was times like this she missed her old friend. "Thank you."
"I hope to hear from you again soon. Give Shran, Gral and Archer my regards. Live long and prosper," he said.
"Peace and long life, my friend," she said.
T'Pol switched off the monitor, wishing that Vulcans sometimes chatted like humans; it had been years since she'd worked and talked with Soval, really conversed.
Ruminating about her previous superior, she slipped out of her clothing and into a robe, closing it tightly to her body. She then walked toward the foot of her bed to unravel the her meditation mat and begin to reflect on Staron joining Ambassador Simon. Stretching herself out, she was about to begin with the doorbell chimed.
Odd.
Getting up and peeping through the hole to see her visitor, she saw Archer on the other side of the door. By the condition of his hair – akimbo – and his pacing, she guessed he'd had a challenging day. She opened the door and immediately he stopped what he was doing and his jaw dropped marginally.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt anything," he said. "The people in 2359 said they knew you and they let me follow them in. I can come back--"
She looked down at her own robe, noticing that sparked his reluctance. "I wasn't asleep. Come in."
Hedging into her house, she watched his nose twitch and then he whipped his head back toward her. "You weren't meditating were you?"
"No." She shut the door when she noticed he stopped in her hallway.
"Jonathan--?" He was acting strangely, even for a human.
He didn't say anything, but shuffled his feet. As she stared, hoping he'd finally discuss what ever it was that bothered him, he finally started to speak – quiet though it was.
"God, this is going to come out all wrong," he whispered.
She waited.
"Never mind."
Poking an eyebrow up, she said, "Continue."
"You're not … oh, forget it."
"What--?"
He sighed. "Anyone else here?"
If she were human, she would've laughed. She must've produced a look that made him shrink, because his shoulders sagged a little under her scrutiny.
"I guess not." He sighed again. "I'm sorry. It's just …. The candles and the--"
"I had almost begun to meditate. I didn't want you to feel guilty."
He seemed a little relieved and produced a lopsided smile.
"What has flustered you so?" she asked.
He wiped his hand over his face. "I have something to tell you. Something you're not going to like."
She held out her hand as if offering him a seat and he did so. Gracefully, she sat next to him.
"Section 31 has been keeping tabs on you since you left Starfleet."
She breathed deeply and then blinked her eyes slowly. "I know. Minister T'Pau told me."
He dropped his head to his chest. "They started keeping files on alien officers who resigned their commission. You just happen to be the only one."
"You realize you shouldn't tell me." By revealing this to her, he'd violated part of article 14.
"Harris wants to know where you were before you came here."
She clarified her meaning, since he was set on continuing. "It's a violation to--"
"I don't care," he said.
"It's a court martial offense."
Staring her in the eyes, he agreed. "I don't care."
"The reason I didn't tell you is I didn't want to put you in a situation where you felt it necessary to show me allegiance," she said. "I didn't want you to violate Starfleet regulations."
"You and I both know they don't need to keep tabs on you. And if you want to talk about violations, it violates your freedom which is article 10--"
"It is of no consequence if they find out about the Kolinahr," she said.
He frowned a little.
"You're concerned they'll find out that I failed?" she asked.
"It's none of their business," he replied.
Suddenly, T'Pol understood his worry. The Council was based on a fragile web of alliances and any information that would hurt that alliance could cost T'Pol her reputation. A Vulcan, if anything, was supposed to be logical, not emotional. Although she knew she had both reason and emotion, races that were unhappy with her performance as ambassador may use it to discredit her and she'd lose whatever tenuous respect she had.
The chances of Section 31 leaking the information were remote.
"It doesn't matter," she whispered. "The scenario in which Harris would use information is--"
"Imagine Earth wants the Federation to show support for the suicide mission they're sending Ambassador Simon on. How might they gain approval?"
She was silent.
"Section 31's responsibility is protect Earth's interests," he said.
"There is nothing that can be done."
"You can ask Minister T'Pau or Minister Soval to--"
"No," she said.
"T'Pol--"
"You told me recently it that I will make my reputation on the Council because of my skill. Perhaps I should rely on that."
He gave a small smile, what she suspected was admiration, and nodded. Breaking through the silence, he spoke softly to her.
"Listen, about barging in--"
"I don't mind you stopping by," she said.
"I came here hoping you'd want to grab something to eat with me …."
"You've changed your mind?"
He pointed to her bathrobe. "I never think you're underdressed, but in this case …."
She prodded an eyebrow in his direction.
"Do you want to come?" he asked.
She agreed. "I was hoping we could discuss Prime Minister Pelletier's decision."
"I'll wait here."
Getting up with the same elegance, she glided into her bedroom, shut the door and put on a long sandy-colored Vulcan robe. As she fastened the pin on the material, she looked in the mirror.
He thought I was entertaining someone?
Shaking her head, she walked with him out the door and to a Chinese restaurant they both enjoyed as he vented about the "stupid decisions politicians make." On the matter of sending Neville, she agreed whole-heartedly and possibly above the typical decibel she was used to communicating in.
When they got to the Mandarin Cove, he opened the door for her, making the bell tinkle to alert the restaurant's wait staff. Holographic cherry blossoms filled the restaurant and a special spray strung it into the air so that the customers would have a feel for being in China; T'Pol found the custom strange and occasionally the smell irritated her nasal membranes. A water feature flowed down the middle of the restaurant, dividing it in two except for the bridge that connected the two halves. The two, as usual, headed across the bridge to their favorite table away from the masses, as the waiter pointed him there with a nod. Quickly they sat down and ordered their favorites: mixed vegetables with tofu and orange beef with broccoli.
Picking up the chopsticks, they both broke them apart and rubbed at the them vigorously. As Archer was about to take a drink of water that was brought to the table, T'Pol decided to give him some new information about her day, something that vexed her – though she'd never admit to the emotion.
"Something … interesting … happened today," she started.
"Oh?" he asked. "I take it you found out about--"
"Yes. Do you know who speaks for Earth in Ambassador Simon's absence?"
He shrugged.
"Neville's aide."
The admiral almost dropped his glass. "The red-haired kid?"
"Yes."
"You're shitting me?"
"I assure you, I'm not."
Immediately, he set his glass down, rubbed his temples and looked down at the table with an enormous frown. "What the hell is the Prime Minister thinking?"
"I don't know."
Archer was silent, so she continued. "I wanted to contact Admiral Gardner to recommend, on behalf of Vulcan, a replacement."
He nodded.
"I take it Matt spoke with you this morning about the ambassador's orders?" she asked.
"Yes. They almost sent Neville on the Potomac."
She gave the slightest of frowns.
"I … I didn't want the Potomac to take them, and Matt knew it … and called me on it. I got a kinda slap on the wrist for arguing against Earth's stance."
"Earth is acting foolishly. You had every right to bring it up."
He smiled. "And you were giving me a hard time about loyalty."
"My aide Staron wants to go on this mission."
Archer raised his brows. "What do you think?"
"I'm not certain I trust him."
"Why not?"
Fortunately for her, the food was brought to the table diverting the admiral's attention. The waiter set down a Tsing Tao, which Archer didn't order, but normally did, and brought her some tea. Smoothing her hand around the small white cup, she watched the admiral accept the beer with his lips sloped up even though she had heard him tell the waiter he didn't want that beverage tonight.
He poked his chopsticks in the air at her. "Staron may get himself killed."
"He isn't the only aide or ambassador interested in going with Neville."
"Bagdol?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Xemax?" he asked, ducking his head down to stare at his food.
"No. She's staying here."
He nodded.
Bagdol was a young man who would do anything, but Xemax was a seasoned ambassador. She asked, "Ambassador Xemax?"
Although everything else they'd been discussing was sensitive, and they were well out of anyone's earshot, he looked around and then shook his head.
"Just curious," he said.
She leaned in as he waved her concern away.
"Just curious about her." Just as she was about to question him again, he asked a question. "The Excelsior is taking Simon."
"With Captain Mallory at the helm?" she asked. It was one of the fanciest ships in the fleet, but with a captain who had a lot of potential, but not a lot of experience.
"Duvall is going with them."
"Admiral Duvall?"
"That's the one."
The travesty was beginning to know no bounds. "Jonathan, the situation is more dire than I had presupposed."
He nodded in agreement.
"What are you going to do?" she asked.
"I don't think we can do anything. Gardner seems set on this course."
"Then it's more imperative than ever than I talk with him."
He nodded.
Something came to her mind that surprised her. "Perhaps Ambassador Shran will join my concern?"
His eyebrows shot up. "Is he an ally?"
She dismissed his glee with the vaguest frown. "Perhaps on this issue."
"You calling Matt tonight?" he asked.
"I think I should, as soon as I get home."
Scooping her meal with her chopsticks, she noted that he fumbled only with his, losing a broccoli spear to his lap. Instead of commenting, she felt her stomach warmed like having drunk several cups of tea and her mind relaxed as if meditating for several hours at a time. Catching his eye, he produced a lopsided smile and then glanced down at his lap.
"Oh, well," he said.
"You were never very skilled with these." She showed off just for a moment, opening and closing hers as if she were using a PADD. It earned her a purring chuckle from him.
"Hard to believe I've lived here for more than," he paused, "twenty years."
Swallowing the remainder of his Tsing Tao another was set in front of him before he could order or decline.
Looking squarely at her plate, she made a comment. "I … enjoy coming here, however they seem almost overly attentive."
Looking at his beer, he picked it up. "I guess it's not all bad."
After a brief moment of silence between them, "Your meeting with Harris went well?"
Setting down his chopsticks, he let out a low sigh. That was all the information she needed. Actually, she'd already hypothesized that was the case. It's why when he entered her place frazzled and why even now he was a little fidgety.
"Anything you wish to discuss?" she asked.
He took a long swallow from his beer. "Let's hear about your day."
She hesitated and then eventually started speaking guessing her friend just wanted a break. Leaning back against his chair, he took another swig at his beer. Relaying all the various points, she indicated how the Council was prepared to place sanctions against Earth, both trade and economic. Before she finished her sentence, her friend had – with alarming accuracy – given a debrief of how he imagined everyone voted … including that Shran would've been a hold out.
Rubbing her fingers along the white porcelain cup, she asked a question. "Jonathan, there is an open position now at the Council, perhaps--?"
"No."
"Earth could use someone with your skill."
"I've been with Starfleet all my life, and so has Dad." He shook his head. "You and I both know that's not my strength anyway."
"Who would've supposed it would be Shran's?"
He gave a hearty laugh at the comment and polished off his second beer. Looking over the table, the two continued to sit at the table and eventually Archer picked at the leftovers of T'Pol's dinner on her plate – which she was used to - with his chopsticks and eventually rewarded himself with small corncobs, bamboo shoots, water chestnuts and bits of tofu.
Gazing at him sort through the vegetables he liked she tried to avert his eyes.
"What?"
"Nothing," she said, scooting her plate closer to him.
"Sorry. Guess I should've asked."
Rather than say anything, she watched him continue pick at her plate with satisfaction.
The two finished, or rather Archer finished her plate for her and then paid the bill. As they made their way out. When the two got up, they made their way across a bridge and headed outside into the cool, night air. Grabbing her outer cloak around her, she struggled to bring it to her neck until Archer stopped suddenly and brought it around for her. Giving a half smile at the accomplishment, he walked on with her at his side.
"I love San Francisco in fall," Archer said. His eyes beamed up at a street light along the sidewalk. "Something wonderful about the brisk air, the turning leaves and the fog."
As if remembering a dream long-since vanished, she watched a puff of smoke spill out from a manhole cover. Her fingers settled against her arms and she moved them up and down quickly, intent on bringing her body temperature up.
When she did this for the second time, she suddenly felt a jacket slipped over her shoulders, draping her in warmth. Looking at her friend, who was clad in a turtleneck, she shook her head.
"I don't--" she began.
He shrugged her off. "I've lived here nearly all my life, T'Pol. This is a warm night. Besides, I don't think night in the Forge was this crisp."
That was true.
Huddled at his side, relaxing into the jacket that she deemed looked ridiculous covering her Vulcan robes, she continued to walk onward. Stepping through the nearly empty streets, they finally arrived at her apartment. As he was about to leave her for the night, she found herself offering to have him upstairs and although she could tell he was tired, he seemed to agree, especially when she suggested she was going to call Admiral Gardner.
The two made it into her apartment and on entry, she slipped out of his jacket, folding it carefully over a chair and then beckoned him into her bedroom where the monitor was. Archer followed tentatively behind her and at her encouragement eventually sat on her bed – and just out of view - so that he could hear the conversation without being seen.
T'Pol's nimble fingers called up Matt's number and before long the admiral was in front of her. Struggling against the urge to stand, and show he was her superior, she crossed her legs.
"I hope I'm not calling at inopportune time," she said.
The man who answered had his hair askew and looked as if he'd been roused from sleep. Checking her clock, she determined it was already past 2300 …, which meant it was beyond the acceptable time to call.
He took a deep breath. "I half-expected you to call."
"Admiral Gardner, I presume you know the Council has found out about Earth's mission."
Matt didn't speak. Instead he rubbed his hair and coughed at the monitor.
"The Council is upset," she said.
"I think we can--"
"We've recommended sanctions."
"Sanctions!"
"I'm telling you this as one of the humans' strongest and longest allies."
"What are the sanctions?"
"You will receive a list of them tomorrow. I can say that Vulcan will recommend to abate some if you reconsider sending Earth's ambassador."
He huffed. "I can't. I don't have that authority. This came directly from the Prime Minister."
"I know you have influence with him."
He shook his head. "Not much, and I've already used what I could."
"Simon's aide will take his place at the Council. That cannot be permitted to happen."
It seemed like the information was news because Gardner's jaw dropped and he rolled his eyes.
"Stan?" he asked.
"Yes."
"On behalf of my planet, I would like to propose someone else is assigned … someone who has diplomatic experience. Someone who has negotiated with the races at the table."
She could see out of the corner of her eye that Archer was about to object. Ignoring him, she pressed on. "Sir, there are only a few humans who've done so."
Gardner frowned. "You want us to bring the ex-prime minister out of retirement."
"That is one solution. There are two other men I know of who've negotiated with nearly every race at the Council."
"Duvall is taking Simon to Romulus."
"That leaves only one."
"Archer?"
The admiral beside her shook his head. Disregarding him, she gave a slow nod.
"Yes."
Gardner sighed. "I think the Prime Minister would rather Nathaniel come out of retirement."
"That is entirely his prerogative, but--"
Matt mumbled low into the monitor. "I'll have an answer to you tomorrow, T'Pol. Good night."
Without her assistance, the screen between them faded to black. She sat staring at a few seconds before she heard the voice immediately to her right. Archer's.
"I told you I have absolutely no desire to be an ambassador."
Lingering her gaze at the screen, she gave the most minute of head nods and then turned her attention to him.
"You are the best one for the position."
Raising his eyebrows, as if she was crazy to mention the very idea, he emphatically denied it.
"No."
Moving to sit next to him on the bed, she questioned his logic. "Why?"
"We discussed this."
She hadn't been satisfied then and she wasn't now. In the back of her mind, despite his protestations, she knew he was intrigued and she also recognized he would be perfect in that role.
He said, "There's one man who has negotiated with every race at the table besides me … someone I think you respect and admire."
She waited.
"Mathew Gardner."
She hadn't considered the idea, and although it wasn't her personal favorite, the idea had merit. At least, Matt could serve the void Simon was leaving behind – not that Neville provided that much guidance or offered his opinion on behalf of Earth often.
"I'd like to think on it," she said. "Are you certain that you--?"
"No," he said, interrupting her.
After a few seconds passed, he asked a question. "Have you made up your mind about Staron?"
T'Pol blinked slowly and then whispered the answer. "Soval is correct. My assistant can provide details to me and … ultimately the decision is his."
He leaned in a little. "I know it's a tough on you."
Staring him in the eyes, she spoke. "It seems these days you and I make decisions we dislike, including putting people in harm's way."
"Hasn't it always been like that?" he asked.
Thinking back to her time on Enterprise, most of the decision – though life and death – seemed easier somehow. Few things, at the time, seemed like they had serious ramifications, even her trellium use.
"Perhaps," she whispered.
He pushed himself gently off the bed. "I should probably get going."
Escorting him to the door, the two made small talk until Archer headed to the elevator. After closing the door, she padded lightly to the living room and stared at the skyline. A thick fog had rolled in, and it hung on the city eclipsing nearly every building from site. She couldn't see Archer's, a site that was typically in plain view, even if she squinted into the cloudy air. Glancing to her left, she saw his jacket draped over the chair – forgotten.
For a moment she thought about trying to catch him and hand it back. Instead, she reasoned she could give it to him tomorrow when she would undoubtedly see him again.