A/N: I hope this isn't difficult to follow and begins to answer some of the questions brought up in the previous 17 chapters.
Republished to remove unnecessary/unwanted text at the end. Story hasn't changed. Sorry!
---
After T'Pol read the message again, the one where the author promised harm to Archer if she involved anyone else, she tried to logically think through how someone had managed to take the pictures. So, she studied each one in detail.
Looking at the one where Jonathan was in his bedroom reading, she wondered if someone had planted a camera in each of Archer's room or just one. One thing was certain, the photos were taken close up as if in his room.
Was someone in the room with him?
It seemed impossible.
Maybe someone in a neighboring apartment? Jonathan likes to leave the windows open.
The others from his apartment appeared to be taken from the same vantage point near the door of the room. And the one in the car was stretched at an angle as if looking up.
Moving onto the one of Archer in the hospital with Captain Reed, she leaned in to inspect it. Nothing stood out on first. He was dressed in a brown corduroy shirt and blue jeans. Malcolm was clad in the white hospital gown with covers wound around his waist and Hoshi huddled next to him in a dress.
Nothing out the ordinary.
And yet her brain couldn't move on … something was out of place.
Each wore a smile, as if sharing a private joke – Reed grinning mischievously, Hoshi tossing her head back and Archer hovered at the end of the bed, as she imagined he might, in a toothless grin. Zooming she spotted exactly what concerned her. One of Hoshi's hands gripped around Malcolm's and the other wiped her eyes.
Hoshi.
Enlarging the photo again, T'Pol looked at Hoshi's hands. They were bare -- missing her engagement band – one she knew the young woman wouldn't be without.
T'Pol knew precious little about wedding ceremonies, but the one thing she'd gathered from the conversation with Hoshi and Jonathan was that women were given a token, a ring, that she would wear until the day of the wedding.
It was enough for her to tell the photo was doctored.
Why would they send this to me? To prove they know where Jonathan is?
Somehow, she doubted whoever sent this knew Hoshi was engaged and expected the quality of the image to have fooled her.
Curiouser and curiouser, she thought quoting Alice in Wonderland.
She left her office and when she got home, she decided to scan for a camera or any listening devices. Not surprisingly, she found one on a cloak she had in her bedroom, hung neatly on the closet door for easy access. Thinking back, she tried to remember when she'd last worn in and determined she'd been without it for a few days. For some reason, she hadn't worn it into the office.
Perhaps someone added the device while it was here. Maybe security would help.
Although, it would be difficult to explain everything without bringing up the information about Archer. In the meantime, she would remove them herself and ponder about what to do with the information she was given.
---
T'Pol arrived at Shran's house at seven p.m., just as he requested. Although it was fall, she was able to see the exterior under the lighting of the old-style cast iron street lamps. The home was an Earth Victorian located on the edge of town with a scalloped roof and large windows. It had a yard, a significant one, with autumn flowers blooming, orange-leafed trees and toys abandoned in it. A small shuttlecraft was parked in front of a garage that was most likely used only for storage. Walking up the stairs to the front door, she mused that knowing how Andorians and Aenar lived, in caves, it was the last place she'd imagine them to choose as their abode.
Ringing the doorbell she waited for someone to answer the door. On the other side, she heard a small female voice shout above everyone's, enough to be heard clearly through the large wooden door.
"I'll get it! I'll get it!" Tallah announced loudly. "I'll get it!"
T'Pol could hear someone bolting down some stairs and then sprinting to the door. Throwing it open the little blue girl smiled showing all her teeth.
"Hello!" she said.
T'Pol raised an eyebrow and stared down at the little creature. "Good evening."
"May I take you coat?" she asked.
"I didn't bring one. This is my robe."
"Oh. I was supposed to take your coat."
T'Pol was about to reason with the child, when Shran emerged behind her wearing an apron and a large grin.
"Never mind, Tallah." As if waiting for someone else to walk through the door, the blue man looked behind her. "Where's the Pink Skin?"
"We're coming separately."
"He said you live two blocks away."
Hesitantly, she agreed. "Yes, but given what happened the other day …."
He frowned. "You shouldn't take what people say so seriously." Grumbling as if to himself, he corrected his statement. "Well, I guess you take everything seriously; you're a Vulcan."
An eyebrow flicked at the comment.
"I'll take you on a tour," Shran volunteered patting his daughter on the head and pointing her to the kitchen. "Go help your mother."
Tallah was about to put up a fuss when the blue man's antennae rose in a fatherly manner – threatening, but not meaning any real harm.
"All right," she said.
As the Andorian toured her around, she took in the detail of their place. It was strewn with beautiful antique lights and fixtures all from around the turn of the 20th century and some of the furniture matched the house, as if it was part of the bargain. Thrown in were strange Andorian artifacts that seemed somewhat out of place like the ice pick Shran used as a boy and a shimmering veil that Jhamel had at their wedding (it was a custom to keep it and frame it).
It was a four-bedroom house, laid out like a box. Tallah's bedroom, which she apparently complained was too pink, held delicate wallpaper with tiny roses. Frilly white curtains hung around shutters and a dollhouse was placed in the corner with stuffed animals having tea. In amongst the pictures of horses and kittens was one of the Imperial Guard's insignia – black – with dark blue letters (the color of Andorian blood) that read "Pride. Honor. The debt of Andorians." And a porcelain doll, humanoid, lovingly held a pick in its miniature hands.
Shran and Jhamel's room had a bed that matched the form of a body – it was kidney shaped with round pillows at the head. Hung around it was a thin sinewy veil and various candles as if to spark a romantic mood or give the room some lighting. The walls were painted a light ice blue, probably to mimic the caves of Andoria, and ivory wisps hung around a large oval window to both encourage and repel light.
The bathrooms, of which there were two, were both modern and sleek – a sharp contrast to the rest of the house. As he took T'Pol into one, which was framed with steel, he argued that it was easier to just "go" in a ice hole pointing out the absurdity of commodes. As T'Pol tried to explain human sanitation, the doorbell rang again.
Jonathan.
Shran continued the tour as Tallah and Jhamel went through the same comical quest to answer the door with the daughter winning the contest by sheer volume. Squealing with delight, the little girl greeted the guest.
"Pink Skin!"
Shran, still upstairs with T'Pol, pointed to another door, ignoring the chaos downstairs. "They can take care of Archer. I wanted to show you this. This is for the baby."
"When is your child due?"
"Three months from now. We don't have much time to get the nest ready."
T'Pol understood the information about "nesting" was literal. Andorians built a nest for their young of items that were meaningful and might keep the child warm and comfortable. Bits of cotton, furs and other blankets were bundled into a round pile in the corner. Eventually, it would be almost the size of a human crib.
"Do you know the sex of your offspring?" she asked.
"A boy," Shran announced proudly. "We found out shortly before we left. I've already asked Phlox if he could deliver our child." Narrowing his eyes, he said, "I don't trust human doctors."
Shuffling T'Pol to another room, the Vulcan glanced around – it was an office and something that served Jhamel's craft projects, which were piled neatly on a long table. Two overstuffed leather chairs were huddled together and the blue man suggested she sit in one.
"They are made of animal skin," she said.
With a frown, he nodded. "Right. You'll never know just how comfortable those babies are."
"I believe I'll be able to survive without that knowledge."
The tour came to abrupt finish and Shran brought her back downstairs to wait in what was the living room.
"You like something to drink, Vulcan? We have Andorian ale and water."
"I'll have ale."
"You astonish me, Vulcan," he said. "I like it."
With a sly smile, he ventured off to get some for her. Waiting in the cozy room, adorned in warm golds and embellished with accents of red, she folded her frame into a mustard-colored chair.
When Archer finished being led around the house by Tallah who appeared to be dragging him from area to area, he wound up in the living room. Both gave each other a hesitant "hello" and sat down in chairs on the opposite side from each other.
"My wife is finishing dinner," Shran said. Depositing two ales with his friends, he sat on the vacant couch.
"Your house is quite aesthetically pleasing," she said. Although it was a human custom to comment on such trivial matters, she thought the Andorian might appreciate the sentiment.
Shran said, "This house is too … ornate. But, it allows Tallah to go to a school where there are other aliens."
"I hear the Federation school is quite good," T'Pol remarked.
Shran nodded. "I have met the teachers and although they have too many Vulcans, my daughter's education is acceptable. Almost as good as an Andorian school."
T'Pol gave Archer a quick glance, noticing he shook his head at the comment.
"Well, I think it's a nice home. Reminds me of the kind my family lived in when I was younger," Archer said.
Shran said, "That's right. You're from San Francisco."
"Lived here more than twenty years."
Shran placed his hand around his cup and extended it outward. "Here's to friends,"
T'Pol hoist hers forward slightly as Archer did the same. Noticing both men threw their drink back, she sipped at hers and coughed slightly after the first drink. It was potent, more so than she remembered.
Tallah, bringing a toy in battle gear offered showed it to Archer and then offered to sit in Jon's lap. Before she could settle in, her father shooed her away.
"The adults are talking, honey."
A frown met with eventual obedience. The girl in the jumper ran off to help her mother, and as she did, Shran put his elbows on his knees.
"Friends, I didn't ask you hear just for social reasons," Shran said. "Well, I didn't ask here merely for social reasons." His smile met Archer's frown.
"Why have you asked us here?" T'Pol said.
"I've placed jamming devices – they're specially encrypted to keep out any device – audio or video. We can talk confidently here."
T'Pol was quiet, quelling the urge to bring up how she had found spying equipment (both audio and visual) around her apartment.
"It appears Xemax has been gathering information about the Council and its members," Archer said. "I think she's been gathering it for a while."
"To what end?" T'Pol asked.
Shran's antennae wiggled and reared back slightly. "As diplomats for our planets, we're entrusted to keep … secrets. I think she wants to ensure the Council never reforms by exposing them."
"I think you're right," Archer said.
"The Andorian Black Squadron gave me information today. Whoever Xemax is working wants to know where the gem is … the one I stole several years ago."
T'Pol remained silent wondering if it was wise to tip her hand.
Shran said, "Almost two years ago on Enterprise, I asked you to trust my judgment and build a replica of a gem that I claimed to have stolen. And you know I took it on behalf of my government."
"That's what you claimed," T'Pol said.
A slight frown spread over his mouth. "But, I never told you why." He paused and then continued with a hushed voice. "It's not a gem per se, it's a crystal."
"A crystal?" T'Pol asked.
"A dilithium crystal."
"A what?" Archer asked.
"Dilithium. It's a rare crystal that Andorian scientists have found can fuel starships at warp seven … while shields are on maximum … and at the same time firing phasers and photon torpedos."
Archer nearly spilled his drink as T'Pol's mouth hung open slightly.
"Impossible," Archer said.
"Oh, it's possible." Shran said, "It's also easier to maintain that plasma."
"How does this involve the Arali?" T'Pol asked.
"The Arali found the crystal and were on the verge of discovering exactly how powerful it was when refined … and which planet it was found on. The Andorian government couldn't allow that to happen. So … I took it from them. They've been looking for it … and me … ever since."
A gem the size of two fists powering a starship? T'Pol must've looked skeptical because Shran pointed to her.
"It's the truth, Vulcan," the blue man hissed.
Archer held his hand in the air to quiet the Andorian. "Why didn't you tell us sooner?"
"The Andorians …." He shot a glance to T'Pol. "We wanted to keep the technology a secret. We were afraid of who might use it."
"Like the Vulcans?" Archer asked.
"Among the aliens we were concerned with – yes."
"If the technology is as you say it would be difficult to keep clandestine," T'Pol said.
"You can understand why the Andorians pushed me underground for so long."
"Why emerge?" T'Pol said.
"My family. They had my little girl … you may not think much of me, T'Pol, but I'm not the type of man to abandoned his family. Once I forfeited my cover, I was useless as a spy."
The Andorian and Vulcan stared at each other, when T'Pol finally acquiesced.
"I believe you made the right decision. Besides, negotiations – surprisingly – seems to be a strong suit of yours."
The two old enemies/friends softened and Archer gave a grin.
Just as the three were about to talk more about dilithium crystals, Jhamel emerged from the kitchen.
"Dinner is ready," she called.
Shran shook his head, as if indicating not to involve his wife. "We'll discuss this more later." And then with a henpecked voice, he announced. "Coming!"
---
The three made their way into the dining room as Shran and Jhamel sat at a round table. Andorian custom was to put couples side-by-side, which arranged the seating for Shran and Jhamel to sit together. When Tallah scrambled to sit in between the two guests, her mother reached a pale blue hand around her arm.
"Tallah, I want you to sit by me, so I can ensure you eat all your fish."
"Fish?" T'Pol asked.
Shran's antennae reared back. "Don't worry, Vulcan, we prepared something just for you. Vegetables."
Gently guiding the napkin into her lap, T'Pol thanked her guests.
When bowls of raw food passed around the table, and everyone except T'Pol used their fingers to dive in, Jhamel started a conversation.
"Thank you for joining us tonight. We have so few friends in town. It's such a treat to have you both here."
"It's nice to be invited. I haven't eaten a home cooked meal in … in a while," Archer said.
"You need a woman's touch, Pink Skin," Shran announced.
Archer shot him a warning glare and the blue man waved it off. "Bah! I hear human females cook. Why don't you get one to cook for you?"
Jon hid a laugh, nearly choking on an ice-cold piece of cod. "That's not really the way it works--"
"I was twenty pounds thinner until Jhamel and I mated in the ice cave. Since then she has cooked and cleaned for me like an Aenar female. It's nice. If I was married to an Andorian, I would do all the housework."
Jhamel giggled almost like a schoolgirl.
"Listen--" Archer began.
Jhamel, who was not known to interrupt spoke up. "Jonathan doesn't want to hear about married life."
Pleased the human smiled.
"Probably why he's remained a bachelor all his life," Shran said.
At the feeling of Archer beginning to become irate, T'Pol changed the subject. "Was it difficult to move into a house already furnished?"
Tallah answered before her mother could. "Oh, yes! The Pink Skins enjoy luxury like cushy beds and couches. On Andoria, we sit on hard material, like metal. It's how we stay nimble and ready for combat."
"And the food?" T'Pol asked of the child.
"I do like … what is it called … pizza!"
"A universal constant," Archer said, kidding.
Jhamel quietly agreed. "The accommodations here are warm and soft. It has taken some getting used to. Even on Aenar we sit on the skins of animals."
T'Pol quivered slightly.
Shran agreed. "Twice Tallah has broken out into a rash at the synthetic material you use. It's reassuring to sit on something freshly killed. You know what I mean, don't you, Pink Skin?"
"I've never really been hunting."
Shran dropped his food onto his plate and his antennae stood at attention. "A man such as yourself has never had the glory of taking an animal's life and wearing the beast's pelt about your shoulders?"
Archer shook his head.
Shran pointed to T'Pol. "Even Vulcans track animals and kill them as part of a rite to man or womanhood. You human men are emasculated."
Archer's eyebrows raised as T'Pol intercepted.
"The rite to adulthood is not to kill an animal; it is to prove that a young one can survive in the desert. Killing an animal is sometimes necessary to survive. There is a technique we use to be humane to the animal …."
A fin hung out of Shran's mouth as he waved her off. "Same difference."
The conversation continued, pointing out cultural differences in such a way that T'Pol heard Archer laugh several times – with genuine amusement and look on with genuine confusion – as she felt some strange kinship to the Andorians. Human customs were peculiar and even her time aboard Enterprise hadn't prepared her for things that seemed like every day life here, including cursing at someone who angered you for something petty like inadvertently getting in line before you, the idea of "to go" at restaurants, going to a bar after work to grouse with co-workers and the humans' insistence on using communications devices everywhere they went to ensure constant contact.
When as many differences were mentioned as possible, Shran began to clear the dishes away as Tallah climbed into Archer's lap and stared up at him.
"My father says you're a good man."
Archer grinned and settled the girl into his lap, letting her sit there.
Shran said, "You're a natural with children. Don't you think so, T'Pol?"
Archer sighed noisily.
T'Pol understood Shran's intention, but believed the comment was harmless. "He seems so."
After they talked for a bit about how Jhamel picked the house, which Shran complained lovingly was why they'd ended up in an old human home that smelled like the under side of a farmok (which T'Pol supposed was an animal), the group moved to the living room again. T'Pol was given some Andorian tea – a brew that was strong, almost like coffee – Shran tapped Archer's shoulder and the two sneaked into the office upstairs.
Jhamel, pouring a cup of tea for the both of them, sat next to her daughter and wrapped her arm around the child.
"I must apologize for my husband's behavior tonight. He is proud and arrogant, not knowing some social graces."
T'Pol agreed silently.
The Aenar said, "I understand you have chosen a house in the city. Do you find it agreeable?"
"I do. It is convenient, close to home and has amenities for Vulcans."
"I'm glad. Do you miss your home?"
"It is strange. I have lived among humans for so long, I think of them as home."
"I'm pleased to hear you say that. I can imagine it is comforting to be around so many friends."
"It is."
"Shran would never say this, but when he went underground years ago, he was cast out of Andorian society. Taking this position, being an ambassador, may enable him to curry favor with his people again."
"But, the General himself asked him to become a spy?"
"He did. And for Andoria's benefit. Unfortunately, the Andorian people don't see it completely that way. They think of Shran as a lowly thief … a criminal who was awarded favors because he knows the leader of Andoria."
"I had not realized."
"He has too much pride to confess that. However, since his assignment here he has esteem … more so than for years."
"He has done an … admirable job. I have not always agreed with him, yet I find his logic to be mostly sound."
Jhamel smiled. "Shran would be both happy and terrified for you to call him logical."
At that the Aenar and her daughter laughed as T'Pol poked an eyebrow up, amused.
----
Shran brought out a box and grinned virtually from ear to ear as he snuggled into a leather chair across from Archer. Picking out a blend he preferred, and smelling it, he then offered it to the human.
"Humans have one vice I like … other than mating and drinking that is."
"I haven't had a cigar since I graduated from college," Archer confessed. "And that was … God … that was a long time ago."
Shran laughed. "We'll join the women in a moment. I thought the two of us could sit peacefully without their gossiping."
Archer narrowed his eyes and ruminated that neither T'Pol nor Jhamel were the type to "gossip."
Lifting a glass of Andorian ale to his lips, the blue man looked at Jon. "Thought more about what I said yesterday, Pink Skin?"
Sincerely confused, Archer shook his head. "What did you say?"
"You should acknowledge your feelings for her. I know it may create friction for you and Earth, but I think it would be best for you and the Vulcan."
"What makes you think I have feelings for her?"
"I know you. I know the way you think and the motives behind the actions you take. Much of what Ambassador Kator said was right – you've lived with her, danced with her, had dinner with her every night. I don't have to be an expert in humanity to know you're courting her."
A huff left Archer's mouth, so Shran continued.
"I don't understand what all the fuss is about. So, you want to mate with her. Big deal. They can't toss you out of Starfleet and they can't throw you outta the Council … especially now that it doesn't exist."
Jon put the cigar down in the ashtray in front of him. "On Earth, men and women work closely together without letting it become intimate. I don't know if what's--"
"Nah!" Shran said, puffing on his cigar. "Pink Skin, I've known you almost eleven years. You want her."
Rolling his eyes, Archer disagreed. "She's a friend."
"What's the real issue?" Shran asked. "You afraid of the husband she had?"
"There is no issue."
"What about Tucker?"
"What?"
"Ah, it's Commander Tucker."
"There is no issue. T'Pol and I are friends. That's it, end of story."
Shran sighed and then swallowed the last of his ale, refilling his and Archer's drink. The blue man eyed him suspiciously.
Archer leaned back into his chair. "You don't need to play matchmaker for me. I like everything the way it is."
"Well, then if you don't want T'Pol … Jhamel has made a friend. A redhead," Shran said. "Blue eyes with light freckles over her face. For a human, she's attractive. Newly divorced with no children."
"No thanks."
"Thin, but not overly so … not like the Vulcan. This woman is voluptuous in all the right places, if you catch my drift. I like women with large--"
"Why are we having this conversation?"
"You need an outlet. Actually, I think you've needed one for some time, but I think this woman with her child-bearing hips could rear you some--"
"Quit it," Archer said. Standing up, he shoved his hand in front of him to prove he meant business.
"All right. All right, I'm sorry. I won't talk about Miranda again." Jon slunk into one of the seats as Shran spoke. "Although Jhamel mentioned you might be available and she mentioned she might be willing to meet you."
"Well, I don't know. I don't like being set up --"
"She's seen your picture. For some unknown reason she thinks you're quite a catch."
Quite a catch? Blushing, he shook his head. "I just … I don't think it's right."
"I got a picture of her." Shran waggled his eyebrows and snuck into Jhamel's craft area, rummaging through drawers, until he found a photo of the woman.
"I don't really want to--"
Shran leaned over and showed a picture of a dazzling-looking woman around 40 with dark red hair – obviously not dyed – and big blue eyes. Something in them sparkled as if she was amused at a joke. As Archer took the picture into his hand, the thing he noticed was this was a shot of her in a casual moment. She was the kind of woman who seemed to shine no matter the circumstance. It wasn't just that, Shran was right – for a woman in good shape, she was curvy.
"See what I mean about soft in all the right spots?" Shran asked.
Archer shoved the picture back into Shran's hand. "Will you stop playing matchmaker? My life is just fine right now."
Shran's antennae whirled as he poured more ale. Blinking quickly, the admiral was already finding it a little difficult to think. The cigar, which was extraordinary, had sped up the feeling of being light-headed.
"Your life is great, huh? Then why spend all your time with the Vulcan?" Shran asked.
Archer sighed loudly. "I've already explained. She's a friend."
"Uh-huh."
Silence.
"Pink Skin, did you notice when the video played, T'Pol looked at you for permission to disagree? I have to wonder if part of her didn't mind that people thought you two were an item. Thought about asking her, but--"
"I know you find it entertaining to bother T'Pol about this kinda stuff, but don't. She may not say so, but the allegation disturbs her."
Shran's antennae went back as he filled the admiral's drink. Jon threw it down his throat and another was poured readily.
Pointing, his cup still in his hand as if on a soapbox, Jon continued. "T'Pol's been through a lot to get here … to get to Earth … to become an ambassador. More than you'll ever know. Hell, more than I'll ever know."
"Oh, I think you're--" Shran began, when Archer cut him off.
"She's done a damned fine job, too. Despite all the rumors and allegations tossed in her direction, wrongly so, she's been one best diplomats to ever walk through the Federation doors." Archer paused. "Gral told me she was the last to leave the Council room the other day. I mean that's the kind of dedication she has for the Federation and for her planet."
Shran nodded, thoughtfully.
"I wished people remembered things like that. I wished people remembered she was on Enterprise saving Earth from the Xindi, too; I didn't do it alone. I couldn't have done it without her. She doesn't get half the credit she deserves."
Shran opened his mouth, when Jon kept going.
"She sacrificed everything – her career, her home and her family to help us. It's that loyalty … that supercedes duty." He gave a laugh. "I've always admired that about her. And I think it's why--"
"Good grendal!" Shran cut him off. "It's worse than I thought."
"Huh?"
"You're in love with her."
Archer shook his head. "Not in the way you think I do."
"How many types of love do men have for women on Earth?"
"Shran, you and I are friends. I … admire you. Do you think I'm in love with you?"
The blue man's eyes narrowed. "I don't know, Pink Skin, I've seen the way you look at me sometimes. With want."
And as if neither man could keep a straight face, they both broke into a fit of hearty laughter. After the two stopped chuckling, Shran finally gave in.
"All right. I won't bother you about Miranda … and I won't mention the Vulcan again … tonight."
"Thank you."
"I …. I want you to be happy. Settle down. Have a family. You deserve that. And so does the Vulcan."
"I know you mean well."
After smoking their cigars and finishing their drinks, quietly enjoying each other's company, the two made their way back down.
----
The women chatted about a few things, but T'Pol found herself a little nervous. Although the message she'd received specifically told her not to talk about it to anyone, she wondered if Shran and Archer weren't exactly the people she should talk to. In addition, the information about the dilithium crystal sounded intriguing. If she decided not to reveal the contents of the communication she'd received, the least she could do is find out more about the gem and share that possibly with whoever asked her to be at the pier at 1 a.m. to save Jonathan's life.
"You seem distracted. Is everything all right?" Jhamel asked.
For a moment, the Vulcan wondered whether the Aenar was reading her mind.
"I am distracted. I apologize. It's not the company, I assure you."
"Anything you wish to discuss?"
"No."
Jhamel waited for a few moments. "T'Pol, I never thanked you for ensuring the safety of Tallah and me the other night at the party."
She'd forgotten it completely.
"I'd like to repay you in some way."
"Tonight's dinner is payment enough. It was excellent."
Jhamel shook her head. "I'd like to do something else. I could give you something … information."
"What kind?"
"You'll forgive me. My telepathy skills have only strengthened with age. Occasionally I'm able to pick up thoughts or feelings. Stray ones."
T'Pol furrowed her brow.
Jhamel said, "I know you've been wondering … worrying … about Archer's feelings about you."
There had been times during the night where she'd echoed in her mind T'Pau's question about whether Jonathan felt the same way. It had been after he'd caught her eye and smiled. More than that, she was concerned that the leader of her government had found out that she'd met Jonathan again despite her explicit instructions not to.
"That has been the least of my concerns."
"You are worried, though."
"Am I speaking in confidence?" T'Pol asked.
"You're asking me if I can keep this from my husband?"
"Yes. Precisely so."
"Of course. The Aenar have a saying, T'Pol: a life bond supercedes any other."
T'Pol nodded. "Jonathan's behavior when the video was shown was … odd. He appeared timid and embarrassed rather than angered. It is … unlike him."
"I think he was quietly angry," Jhamel said. "He too has been concerned about you. At least that's what I've been able to discern. I haven't --"
T'Pol waved her hand to dismiss the information. "I understand you are a powerful telepath. It is said some Vulcans cannot be in the same room with those who exhibit emotion because they will experience it as if it is their own."
"That's exactly the feeling sometimes. Although, my people don't eschew emotions, so it's not as difficult."
"You were saying--?"
"Archer was surprised and perplexed by his own reaction. And yet since then he has worked very diligently to prove your innocence."
"There was a time in my hallway where he thought I was entertaining a man. He seemed nervous by the information and felt the same anxiety because of comments Shran made."
"Then, you don't really need my analysis, do you?"
T'Pol was about to ask more when the guys made their way down the stairs wreaking of cigar and stale alcohol. As the Vulcan's nose twitched, Shran pointed to the couch and Jhamel who lounged on it.
"Is my wife not the most gorgeous creature alive?" Shran asked.
Jhamel giggled into her hand and Shran nestled next to her, grabbing his daughter into his middle. "Tallah, you're lucky to have your mother's good looks."
Archer gave a smile. "You have a beautiful wife. Not quite sure how you hooked up with her."
Shran laughed as Archer sat in the chair he occupied earlier across from T'Pol. He exchanged a quick glance with her and then focused his attention back on their blue hosts.
"I need to help Tallah into bed," Jhamel said. At Tallah's immediate irritation and protests, Jhamel took her by the hand and then led her to her bed.
When the two were out of eyesight and earshot, Shran lost some of his levity. "I'm concerned Xemax and her people know about dilithium crystals. It's … it's part of the reason I wanted you here tonight under my jamming signals."
"You should bring this information to the Federation," T'Pol said.
Shran said, "What Federation? We've disbanded."
"You think the Arali, Orions and Romulans are working together to figure out what the gem was?" Archer asked.
"Yes," Shran said.
T'Pol licked her lips. "I … I received a message yesterday that indicated they would kill Jonathan if I didn't provide information about the gem you stole."
Both men stared at her. Archer immediately hunched over. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"They indicated they would harm you if I did so. I feel like bringing the information up even now is … dangerous."
"You would betray me, Vulcan!" Shran asked standing up.
"No," she said. "I was asked to meet them at the pier tomorrow morning at 1 a.m. I was uncertain exactly what I would do or what I would tell them. I was concerned they would kill Jonathan … something they promised to do."
Archer waited.
"They sent pictures to me of your activities. You visited Hoshi and Malcolm in the hospital, greeted Porthos and then ate dinner in front of the television. At the end of your evening you read alone in your bedroom."
The shock on Archer's face was difficult to miss.
T'Pol said, "You can understand my hesitancy."
"I can't believe it," Shran said. "This confirms my fears about these people."
"You should've let me know," Archer said with disappointment.
"It was hard to know where listening devices weren't installed. And … Minister T'Pau asked me not to see you."
"You did anyway," Archer said.
"I was … I was worried for your life. I determined either way, the choice to come here was logical. Either I would gain information about the gem or I would warn you."
Shran said with sarcasm, his antennae squirming, "Well, I appreciate you decided to level with us, then."
T'Pol said, "You indicated this was a safe environment. It seemed a wise decision."
Before Shran could argue back, Archer held up his hand. "I think if they wanted to kill me, they would've done so already."
The blue man nodded. "I agree with him. I think they're preying on you and your friendship with the Pink Skin, T'Pol. I think they hope you'll give them the information."
"What do you propose?" she asked.
"We could simply not go," Shran said.
"Or, we could go with you to the pier," Archer said. "We could see who these people are."
She said, "Your biosigns. They would be able to detect them."
Shran shook his head. "Maybe not. I have information that the Tellarites have created a way to block scanning signals."
Archer knitted his brow as Shran shrugged and explained how he knew. "I was in the Andorian Black Squadron. I know some things. I'll contact him on a secure line." Jutting his jaw forward, he announced why Gral would help. "He owes me a favor."
When the Andorian left to go to his terminal upstairs in the office, Archer turned to T'Pol. "Reed said today that they had information about you, as well. They know you didn't pass the Kolinahr."
"It only hurts my reputation with those on Vulcan."
"They have other things, like a message from the Tuckers to you."
She bristled a little. "There is nothing in it that implicates me."
Archer frowned. "They have a medical chart from Phlox about taking a drug in the Expanse."
"What?"
"They have medical information that indicated you took some sort of recreational drug in the Expanse." Hesitating, he asked another question. "It's manipulated data, isn't it?"
She was quiet.
"Is it?"
T'Pol stared down at her lap. "Jonathan, there are things--"
"It's true?"
"Phlox treated me for a drug addiction in the Expanse. Trellium."
With one loud exhalation of breath he sat back in his chair. "T'Pol."
"I … I thought you'd always known."
He shook his head. "I had an inkling, but I wasn't certain."
"Jonathan--"
"Trellium?" he asked. It was clear by his tone of voice it was the last drug he expected her to take.
"Yes."
Looking over his features, he seemed reluctant to meet her eyes.
"You think less of me?" she asked.
"No. It's not that."
She waited.
"I just … I don't know. I wish you'd told me." A little incredulous, he continued. "I think over the years you had plenty of opportunities to tell me."
"I didn't want to disappoint you."
He frowned.
"Perhaps it's more disconcerting to learn now?" she asked.
"I don't know," he said. Without looking at her, he asked, "Is there anything else you're hiding from me?"
"I didn't hide the information about the trellium."
"You didn't?" he asked. "Phlox was required to tell me. Starfleet regulation--"
"He's Denobulan."
"You purposefully hid it."
In way, he was right and she bowed her head finally under the weight of an age long secret. "I am not hiding it from you now. I didn't realize it still mattered to you."
Gazing up, she wanted him scratch his head in discomfort. There was silence between the two friends and for a moment, T'Pol wondered why he had taken the information so poorly. The addiction was seven years in her past … seven years and what seemed like a lifetime ago.
"Jonathan, T'Pau asked me a question that I think perhaps I should put to you."
"What is it?"
"I debriefed her on the data chip Ambassador Kator presented to the Council the other day."
"Yeah?"
"She asked me what my feelings were. And, I indicated the two of us were friends."
He nodded.
"She asked what your feelings were. And I told you felt the same."
"So, what's the question?"
"Do you?"
"Do I what?"
"Do you feel the same as I – do you feel only friendship?"
"What? Why are you asking me?"
"I've been thinking about it."
"I think you know the answer, T'Pol."
"I'm … forgive me. I'm not certain I do."
Licking his lips, he was about to answer, when Shran came back down the stairs.
"The pig is on his way."
The room felt thick and heavy, causing the Andorian to look between the two. "You heard me, right?"
"Yes," Archer said. Turning his head to T'Pol he looked her in the eye. "Of course."
As Shran boasted about how he was right and had to convince Gral to eventually "come clean" about technology, T'Pol's mind wandered. For a second, she believed that Jonathan's answer was more difficult and convoluted than the one he gave … if he was talking to her, that is.
Tapping the side of her temple, she thought about the pictures taken of him and listening devices that began all this trouble. Although she didn't mind the Council members hearing about her ill-fated attempt to purge emotions, she disliked thinking they may learn about her addiction and why she fell into one.
The past can never be escaped.
It was a Vulcan proverb and one that resonated with her, particularly now. The thought somehow sparked a new conundrum -- the subject of the communication threatening Jonathan stuck in her brain: something you want.
Why wasn't it something "we" want? Instead, it was "something you want."
Perhaps they think I am attached to Jonathan.
Staring over his features, she tucked a piece of hair behind her pointed ear and he met her eyes briefly. Vulcans, logical beings, didn't want things. Mating was conducted at a logical point in time and families began when the cycle had rationalized it. Things had purpose and meaning. All things in life.
Jonathan's behavior had been strange on a few occasions, like when he'd insisted on wearing his jacket the night his bare chest would've been shown to Starfleet Medical.
Jacket?
Something else fixated in her mind and suddenly she interrupted Shran with alarm. "Jonathan, did you wear a jacket yesterday?"
"Yes."
"Which one?"
"My brown one."
"Was it the one you left accidentally at my house?"
She ignored Shran's delighted face.
"Yes," Jon said.
A streak of panic crossed her mind. "Tell me when you wore your coat."
"What do you mean?"
"Tell me, did you wear your coat yesterday?"
"I don't know. I left it in the shuttlecraft during the day. When I got home, I took it in with me and hug it over a chair in my living room."
"Did you bring it into your bedroom at some point?"
"Why are you asking?"
"Did you bring it into your bedroom at some point?"
"Yes. I took it in and hung it on the doorknob of my bedroom. I've been forgetful lately, I wanted to be sure I remember to wear it. It's chilly these days."
"Did you bring it here tonight?"
"Yes," he said. "Why?"
"I think it has a listening device, possibly a camera."
Before either could voice additional concern, Shran waved a hand in the air. "The signal I'm using is Andorian. I'm sure is strong enough to jam anything."
Archer went to the coat rack and pulled his coat from its hanger. Taking it back to the room the three silently gestured to each other, despite Shran's assurance, to scan for it. The Andorian brought back a small scanner and nodded as he waved it over the jacket. A small metal device shone blue under the scanner, beneath a button at the lapel of Archer's collar. The three sat back in awe and wonder.
Finally after more hand signals were made, Shran stalked back from the kitchen with a knife and heeding Jonathan's frown for only a moment, began to cut away at the fabric surrounding the lapel to free the camera. When they did, T'Pol examined it. The disc was exactly like the ones Tallah had found underneath the tables at Shran's party, and the Vulcan could only hypothesize these small devices were both camera and bug.
The Andorian's antennae peered down at the device and then he looked up at his two friends.
"Arali technology. But, it's hard to see the writing."
Archer squinted and then shook his head. "It's too small."
The scanner whizzed over it, capturing the tiny scribbles made on it and then Shran curled his finger until the two followed him up the stairs into a smoky office. Once the data filled the screen on a terminal located on his desk, he zoomed in.
T'Pol's mouth went slack. The ancient scribbles – the archaic language of a dialect of Vulcan that wasn't spoken, one that she'd practiced as a child - looked much like the writing on the disc.
Romulan? she thought.
"The writing looks familiar," Archer said more to himself than anyone.
The Vulcan glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. Although he admitted, without seeing her query, he had no idea why.
"Do you think we were successful in jamming the device?" she asked.
Shran gave a frown. "I think so."
"What should we do?" Archer asked.
"Can we … turn it off?" Shran asked.
"I don't know," T'Pol said. Out of habit, she asked her former captain a question. "Would you like me to attempt it?"
"What do we have to lose?" he asked.
When the doorbell chimed, Shran left the two to stare over the small equipment. As she began to work over the device.
"I found one on my cloak … perhaps that's the camera they used for the video shown of us. But, how could they add one without our knowledge?"
He shrugged. "We take off our coats in our offices before entering the Council."
"Yes."
"Section 31 has gathered information from your office before."
Her eyes went wide. "You don't think Section 31 is behind this?"
"No. It just makes me wonder. Maybe it's easier than it seems to plant bugs."
"Whatever the case, much information has been compromised," she said. Immediately her thoughts raced to conversations in her office with T'Pau and others.
"I agree."
Shran barged into the room with Gral. The Tellarite was wearing something that looked like satin pajamas instead of the robes he usually wore as if they'd disturbed him from his slumber.
"Why wasn't I invited to dinner?" asked the Tellarite.
"I like these people," Shran said, pointing to Archer and T'Pol.
Gral's grunted in amusement. "I brought the equipment you asked me to, Shran."
"We have a late night party going on, Gral. It's called Get the Arali back. Want to stay?"
Gral stroked his beard. "I've always been in favor of celebrations."
TBC
A/N: Find out next time what happens when T'Pol meets the people who sent her the communication.