A/N: Archangemon, not insulted. Don't worry. I enjoy your feedback.

-----

On the way to the apartment, Archer described being able to locate the Denobulan ambassador in the dark by watching her phaser fire and on arriving there seeing Shran. The two managed to drag her to the ground and knock the phaser from her hand. But while being detained, she managed to give Shran a roundhouse punch and an uppercut to Archer.

Denobulans may have more twice the strength of humans, but Xemax – the Denobulan ambassador – had seemingly more than that. At least that was his complaint.

When Archer and T'Pol got back to her apartment, his shirt was already sporting more bloodstains than before – thanks to a drippy nose - and his eyes managed to be encompassed already by purple rings. Instructing him into the bathroom, he sat on the lid of her commode as she retrieved a small medical kit from underneath her sink.

"Tilt your head back," she said.

Touching the bridge of his nose she felt him jerk back. He said, "Sorry, it smarts a little."

"I wonder if Xemax broke it." Running a scan over it, she shook her head.

"Well that's good news," he said.

"I can reduce the swelling and stop the blood flow."

"That'd be nice." Looking down at his shirt with a small frown, he made a comment. "Looks like I already lost the deposit on the tux. I'm never going to be able to get the stains out."

As she retrieved a hypo and filled it, she asked a question. "You don't own your tuxedo?"

"I live on a Starfleet stipend, T'Pol."

She blinked, unamaused.

He said, "I don't wear one often. In fact, I think the last time I wore one was … my high school prom. God, that was more than 30 years ago."

"Prom?"

"It's kind of a banquet for high school students."

"I see." She tapped the hypo against his neck. "I might be able to remove the stains."

"That's okay."

"Why not?"

He shrugged. "It's okay. I'll just send it to the dry cleaners."

"Jonathan, I have a background in chemistry. If I'm able to assist you, why not? Give me your shirt."

With a sigh, he took off his jacket, cummerbund and unraveled his tie before unbuttoning his shirt. As he stripped, she collected each piece of clothing and neatly folded it and set it on the counter, stacking his shirt at the top of the pile.

Turning back to him, she said, "Looks like the blood has subsided." Removing the canister loaded in the hypo, she filled it with another and shot him in the neck again. "Now perhaps the swelling will go down."

Ducking in front of the mirror, he looked at his own reflection. "Oh."

"What's wrong?" she asked, joining his reflection.

Turning to the side and then facing the mirror, he shook his head. "Looks a little crooked."

T'Pol said, "Could be the swelling. Stay here, I'll return shortly."

She took his clothing and set it on her bed, except for the shirt, which she took to her sink. Although she wasn't equipped with various household cleaning products – most of which she believed contained too many chemicals – she did have a chemistry background. Running cold water on it to let it soak was the first logical step. When she returned to the bathroom, Jonathan was still gazing at his face.

"It should take a few hours to clean your shirt … and a few hours for the inflammation to go down."

"Thanks."

"Perhaps we should contact Phlox to see how Malcolm is?" she asked.

Nodding, the two went to her bedroom, in front of her communication station, and sat down. As she was about to cue up the terminal in front of her, Archer stopped her.

"Uhm," he said. "Maybe I should put something on before we contact them?"

"You have something on." She pointed to his pants.

"I should probably have more on."

"Are you cold?"

"No."

"Then what is the issue?"

"Just humor me."

She knitted her eyebrows. "I don't have a shirt large enough for you. Would you like a robe?"

"Don't think that'd be much better."

"Why?"

"It would look a little weird if I was sitting on your bed wearing your robe."

"Jonathan, I believe you were the one who gave me counsel about disregarding other people's opinions."

"This is different."

"How so?"

"This is inviting gossip."

"Do you think Phlox would … gossip?"

"No."

"Then what are you concerned about?"

"I doubt we'll reach Phlox right away. Someone from Starfleet Medical will answer and see us like this and …."

She waited.

He exhaled noisily. "They'll gossip, T'Pol."

"That doesn't concern me."

He finally he confessed. "I guess what Shran said bothers me."

"What did he say?"

"If I was a smart man I'd …."

"Yes?"

"We'd …."

"Yes?"

"You and I would …."

"Jonathan--?"

"All right. He said, 'If you were a smart man, Pink Skin, you wouldn't have shown up tonight; you'd still be … with her.'"

"That was it?" T'Pol got the impression Jonathan was editing out the cruder information.

He confirmed her suspicions. "That was the gist."

"Why does Shran's opinion concern you?" she asked.

He shrugged. "I don't know. I don't like the implication."

"Are you concerned it hurts your standing with him or the people at the Council?"

"No." Once he met her eyes again, he reaffirmed that was the case. "No, that's not it."

"Then what is it?"

"I don't know. I guess I'm worrying for nothing."

She put her hand on his shoulder for a second and he gave a lopsided smile. He said, "You're right. I know you're right. I … I'm not sure what got into me."

"It has been an eventful day."

"I'm sure that's it." He produced a toothier grin. "You know, he did say something else."

She waited taking her hand away from his arm. "Oh?"

"He said I looked happy with you at my side again."

"Working together again … it is rather reminiscent of days gone by," she said. "I find our working relationship pleasing."

He smirked. "Me, too."

T'Pol remembered something that she was all together unsure why she didn't recall it sooner. "Your jacket. It's hanging in my closet and may provide some modesty. Would that suffice?"

"Better than wearing a tux jacket."

"Why?"

He waved his hands in front of him. "Never mind."

The two walked through her apartment until they got to her closet. She pulled out his coat for him and he slipped it on with her help.

Wiggling in, she could tell he was beginning to feel comfortable. "That's better." Contented, until the zipper didn't come up past his collarbone, leaving a wide patch of chest hair toward his neck visible.

He said, "Oh, well."

Trudging back to her room, they sat down again and T'Pol made the call. Indeed someone on Phlox's staff answered. A blond woman in her mid fifties with large brown eyes was on the other end. She narrowed her eyes, undoubtedly at Archer's strange attire or imagining something between the two anyway, and then continued with the call.

"May I help you?" the woman asked.

"Is Dr. Phlox available?" T'Pol asked.

"He's in surgery right now."

"For Captain Reed?"

"Yes."

"Is Hoshi Sato in the area? I would like to speak with her," T'Pol said.

"She is. Let me go get her, Ambassador."

As the connection was put on mute, T'Pol turned her head to Archer. "It appears you were correct."

Before he could reply, Hoshi eventually showed up.

"How's Malcolm?" Archer asked, leaning in.

"Phlox says he'll be fine. The phase pistol shot grazed his side, which caused a lot of bleeding."

T'Pol noticed she and the man beside her breathed easier after hearing Reed would recover. She had to admit, she too felt better. Jonathan hung his head against his chest for a moment.

"That's such a relief," Archer said.

"Do you need anything?" T'Pol asked.

Hoshi gave a tight smile and shook her head. "I'm fine thanks. I'll let you know when Phlox comes out."

Both T'Pol and Archer stared at the monitor as if testing the young woman and she waved them off. "Really, I'm okay."

"All right," Jonathan said.

"I'll talk with you later," the Japanese woman replied before the monitor went blank. As it turned to charcoal, T'Pol looked at Archer.

"We should go to the hospital," she said.

"I was thinking the same thing," he replied. "Maybe we can stop by my apartment first? I'll grab a shirt."

The Vulcan who'd been among humans a little too long produced a small sigh. "Of course," T'Pol said.

----

When Archer and T'Pol arrived at Starfleet Medical, the scene was fairly calm. Hoshi was sitting quietly in the Waiting Room while watching the news on the screen in front of her, a monitor hooked to the ceiling to amuse (or rather distract) guests.

"Hear any news?" Archer asked. Neither he nor T'Pol wanted to be a burden, but they were too interested in his health and her well-being to stay away.

"I just called T'Pol's place. Malcolm's doing fine."

Archer wrapped his arms around her for a quick hug. "That's great."

T'Pol added a hand on Hoshi's shoulder to signify her relief.

"You guys didn't have to drop by," she said. "He can't even have visitors yet …. I haven't even seen him."

"Didn't expect to drop in on him." Archer smiled. "Besides, you couldn't really keep us away."

Hoshi nodded making her way to a seat in the Waiting Room and all the while Archer tried to convince her to grab something to eat or drink. T'Pol noticed despite feeling fatigue and stress, the young woman refused indicating she wanted to be there in case Malcolm managed to open his eyes much sooner than expected. And somehow, the admiral didn't scoff at her request; he understood the devotion the two must have toward each other.

Although he didn't see romance between them on the Bridge, he knew the two were close. Hell, everyone on his ship was close and shared more in the ten years together than one might share in a marriage. Life and death situations arouse on a weekly basis, crewman – like Hoshi – had been tortured and egos – like Malcolm's – had been crushed. It wasn't hard to imagine two of his officers making the next step to a relationship.

As Archer settled into a seat next to Hoshi, he noted the couple, in an odd way, complemented each other. Reed was the very essence of prim and proper order, someone regulated to live life through a series of comfortable and exacting routines. Hoshi managed her way through life using charm and sarcasm (sometimes both at the same time) to haphazardly get through life. He was the model of protection and she was willing to play damsel in distress to stroke his ego. She was a genius when it came to language, but underplayed it; he enjoyed her fawning over his knowledge.

Hoshi let down a bit of her guard and seemed to allow the stress to overcome her in a way she hadn't been prepared for. Burying her face into her hands, she cried about what could've happened and how afraid she was … more afraid than when she'd joined Enterprise.

With a little wisdom, Jon provided her context. "You have a lot to lose."

She looked up at him with tear-ridden eyes.

"You care for him deeply, Hoshi," T'Pol said, as if she understood the explanation better than the human.

Something about the moment made Hoshi burry her face into his shoulder and T'Pol to lean into Archer as he wound his large arms around the quivering Japanese woman.

"Maybe you could get some water," he said to T'Pol.

The woman walked away with a single, and understanding, nod.

"I don't know why I'm acting like such a baby," Hoshi whimpered.

He gave a mild chuckle, only because her cry seemed on the verge of laughter itself. "It's okay."

"Jon, I've never felt about a man the way I do Malcolm."

"I know."

"He's pigheaded, but sweet and gentle. He listens to me … I mean really listens. Can you he asked if he could kiss me? And before he asked me to marry him, he contacted my family to get their blessing?"

He whispered, "I can imagine."

"When he asked me to marry him … he'd prepared a pillow with a ring on it. He's just so romantic. I never would've imagined."

"I thought you said the story about the two of you wasn't fit for mixed company."

"We were … well … we were in a comprising situation at the time."

Shifting with slight discomfort, Archer joked with her. "I don't need to know more."

She gave a small laugh as she wiped away her tears. She said, "It's funny. A year ago if you'd asked me whether I'd marry him, I would've called you insane for even bringing it up. So much has changed."

"Things usually do over time."

"Yeah. Do you know how we got together?"

"No."

"It was right after Trip's funeral. Travis had relatives in the area and was staying with them. It was just Malcolm and I, and we were at the same hotel. Both us of were too miserable to be good company, so we hung out in his room to be unhappy together."

Archer brought his arm around her to rest on the back of her chair while she continued. "After we told stories about Trip, laughing and crying – sometimes both at once – we just wound up in each others' arms. Something about it felt so good and so right …. We just comforted each other and it led to more.

"Before either of us understood what was happening, he asked me if he could kiss me and then seconds or hours passed and it was morning."

Archer swallowed and spoke quietly. "I'm glad you were there for each other."

"We both thought maybe it was a mistake at first, but … we couldn't keep away from each other. He'd visit my class and I'd stop by his office for no reason. One night after dropping by my class, he asked to take me out on a date … and it eventually lead to a relationship."

He saw her eyes glistened at the memory of the tale. A smile spread over his lips; even middle aged, he found some sentimental stories endearing.

"Maybe that's a story to tell your kids." He gave a grin at his comment.

"Kids?" she asked.

Grinning broader, he agreed. "I'm sure you'll have them eventually."

As his old communications officer struggled for a come back, T'Pol returned with a glass of water and provided to Hoshi's grateful hand. Within seconds Phlox emerged, hair wild and glanced around the room until he spotted the three. Striding with purpose, he made his way to the three and delivered the news Hoshi'd been waiting for.

"Malcolm just woke up."

Hoshi shoved the water into Archer's hand and rushed to the doctor to throw her arms around the Denobulan.

"You may come in. But, I'd prefer it just be you. He's very weary and I'd like to give him some rest." He confided as she made her way down the hall with him. "He insisted on seeing you to make sure you were all right."

Phlox turned to T'Pol and Archer and clarified his statement. "You can visit him tomorrow."

The Vulcan and admiral nodded and Archer watched Hoshi grab Phlox's hand as they vanished into the shadows of the corridor.

T'Pol leaned in and asked a question. "Is she all right?"

"I think she's fine now," Archer said as a response.

A few moments of silence passed as he reflected on everything his ex-communications officer told him until T'Pol jostled his thoughts.

"You seem pensive," she said.

Glancing over at the Vulcan, he gave a small smile. She was still dressed in the elegant Chinese gown she'd donned for the party. While he wore a t-shirt and jeans, she looked as put together as when they'd stepped into the cab. The thing that struck Archer was her red barrette. The dragonfly pattern wasn't holding her bangs away from her face and held no logical value other than adorning her hair. Blush drew attention to her high, green cheekbones. Her lips were ruby red, as if she'd put special thought into having her mouth match her dress and make a sharp contrast to her green skin. And her lids were shaded with a lavender color that highlighted the amber flecks in her deep brown eyes.

"I am pensive."

"What about?"

His cheek twitched. "Hoshi told me how she and Malcolm started dating. It was a nice story."

"When did they begin?"

"They started at Trip's funeral, but apparently they didn't date until later."

Her expression changed and she closed her eyes briefly. "It's illogical, but … I feel better knowing that."

It was nice to think something good happened because of Trip's death. Part of him felt better knowing that too, but possibly for other reasons as well.

"Perhaps we can stop by the Mandarin Cove tonight?" she asked. "Neither of us have had more than a few appetizers and it appears Hoshi's well-being and Malcolm's health are in good order."

As good as can be, he thought.

It was already past 2200 hours. There were many restaurants open, but most of them served as a bar or discotheque this late at night. Mandarin Cove was one of the few that stayed open this late that didn't have karaoke or some other nonsense. Listening to his stomach rumble, he nodded in defeat.

The got up and made their way to the orderlies' station and Archer left a message for Hoshi before heading to their favorite dinner spot where she'd order the tofu dish and he'd ask for the beef. She'd profess she was finished and he'd pick at her plate, fumbling with his chopsticks under her admonishing eyebrow. The two eventually got to their respective apartments after midnight.

---

T'Pol showed up early at the Council Room the next day, at the request of President Gral. When she arrived, she noted Shran and Archer were already seated at the table next to the president dressed as if ready for work.

The little pig made a grunt and continued. "Nice to see you, Ambassador T'Pol. I received a call yesterday evening from Admiral Gardner. He confirmed something I'm sure you already know …."

She sat down and waited for the information.

"Xemax wasn't a Denobulan. She's an Arali."

T'Pol's breath stuttered. It was the same creatures that were responsible for Trip's death … the same ones Excelsior was in the process of meeting to negotiate with, along with the Orions and Romulans, on Romulus.

"Why are you telling us?" Archer asked.

Gral stroked his beard. "You were the only ones I trust in the Council. We've uncovered two spies. How many more?"

Shran's antennae wiggled. "That's not procedure."

Gral snarled. "Damn procedure!"

"Did Captain Reed finish his investigation?" T'Pol asked Archer.

Archer shrugged. "I don't know. I've been a civilian now for two days."

"Well, this doesn't bode well," Shran said. He looked slowly from each council member. "I hadn't heard from my aide this morning."

It was the one he'd sent on the Excelsior.

T'Pol leaned back in her chair, a sense of fear crawling down her spine. "I have not heard from Staron either."

"Neville's been quiet," Archer said. "That's unlike him."

Gral looked at his comrades and said a few ominous words. "I wonder if war is around the next bend."

Shran and T'Pol remained quiet as Archer looked down at his hands. "I hope to God it's not."

The four of them were quiet until the other Council members filled the room and began chatting about how they hadn't heard from their comrades and aides. The piglike man in the front point to each seat and whispered words that T'Pol never thought he would.

"Perhaps we should consider what a declaration of war might look like."

TBC

---

A/N: I'm trying to become a better writer and am wondering whether people want me to continue (whether it's interesting). Please feel free to leave me a comment.