A/N: First, thank you all for the sweet comments. It's nice to know you enjoyed the pay off for the most part and that I'm appealing to the things you like.

Second, it happened again: I lost a version of this story. Sorry it's taken me so long to re-write it, folks!

Last, Night's Darkness, you were reading my mind! That's exactly what happens next. Keep making suggestions on the Shran front; I'd be happy to spend more time crafting the story of that character.

---

The shuttle ride was cramped, filled with members of various crews who managed to dock at the same spaceport all eager to get back to Earth. Many of the crew from the Potomac, Thames and other spacecrafts filled the large shuttle and T'Pol and Archer were packed in tight along with them. Archer managed to stand without complaints, but T'Pol knew he was weak. She also knew he wouldn't ask to occasionally sit down; the man was stubborn and had unyielding pride.

Standing near him allowed her to peruse him, noticing a few more gray hairs, a tiny scar at the top of his forehead, a thinner physique and a countenance that seemed fatigued. Gone was the irrepressibility Jonathan had; for the first time since the Expanse, she saw someone who realized his own mortality.

Letting her fingers play surreptitiously with his, she eyed him and waited until he met her gaze.

"I'm all right," he said. A wink followed it.

She welcomed the comment by stroking his fingers with her own.

When the shuttle landed and its doors opened, the crewmen streamed out of the shuttle and T'Pol noticed a throng of people in the bay. A grin spread over her mate's face as she saw Shran, Gral, Hoshi, Malcolm, Gardner and even Skon.

Shran swaggered up to Archer and put out his forearm, which Archer took readily.

"We've been worried about you, Pink Skin, but like a Denebian crawler you are impossible to kill. It's good to see you, my friend."

Archer's lip sloped to the right.

Mel, who was directly behind the admiral, answered. "Well, his near-misses with death aren't for lack of trying to get himself killed."

Shran laughed, his antennae poking forward, and a sly look in his eye as his gaze shifted from Mel to Archer. T'Pol knew the blue man would later accuse Jonathan of having a tryst with her, and silently – behind her mental shields and out of her bond – she decided her mate should squirm under that allegation if only for a few minutes.

Shran pointed at Vega. "I like you – a woman with fire. You are--?"

"Captain Vega," she said. "You must be Ambassador Shran."

The two clasped hands and soon everyone in the room introduced themselves to each other. T'Pol noticed Ki'ar tapped Archer on the knee to speak and amusement rooted itself on the admiral's face.

Nice fez, Jon thought

It's a symbol of his office, she thought.

Skon approached carefully, walking on the balls of his feet as he was prone to do, curious and yet cautious. T'Pol straightened.

She said, "Skon, this is Admiral Archer."

"I presume the correct greeting is: Welcome home, admiral."

"Thanks," said Jonathan. "It's nice to finally meet you. I know T'Pol thinks highly of you."

"It is an honor to serve Ambassador T'Pol. She is quite an extraordinary woman," he said. "Not many Vulcans are as … open minded as she."

Archer nodded, his eyes turning to her as she bowed her head in an attempt to disguise the flush that rose to her cheeks.

Skon said, "I have particularly … enjoyed our trips to Mandarin Cove."

"Mandarin Cove?" asked Jonathan.

"We go there often. A Chinese restaurant."

"I've been there." Jonathan paused and T'Pol saw his plastered smile begin to wilt. "That's right. You live down the hall from her. That's … convenient."

"It enables us to work closely together for long periods of time where I can attend to her needs. It also provides us the opportunity to socialize, something I have come to appreciate."

I bet, Jonathan thought.

T'Pol's eyes went to her mate's and she shook her head. Don't become jealous.

T'Pol, you took him to our restaurant.

Our restaurant? Other patrons also dine there.

Shaking his head he said a gruff farewell before making a beeline to Hoshi and Malcolm. While Archer pumped Reed's hand, T'Pol looked back at her aide, who had an odd gleam to his eye – as if he knew he won this round of verbal banter with the admiral. Dismissing it as her imagination, the Vulcan sauntered over to talk with Hoshi and noticed Captain Vega came over to the admiral, telling him he probably needed to sit down for a bit. T'Pol instead allowed him to reach a hand over her shoulder and lean on her.

After a few minutes they heard Shran over the commotion. "I hear you're taking everyone to The 602 Club for drinks and food. I've asked Jhamel to join us there."

"Everyone?" Archer furrowed his brow. "Wait, I only said drinks."

A gloved hand pointed to the top of the shuttle bay and the Andorian announced loudly. "I think we should head there now."

T'Pol watched as people darted to their shuttles and Ki'ar, the copper-skinned Ithanite grin wildly, pushing legs out of his way to clamor into Shran's vehicle.

"It's only four thirty," said Archer.

T'Pol leaned over, helping him to the shuttlecar. "The Vulcans have an ancient saying: never promise spoils of war to soldiers who are poor and greedy."

Travis jogged behind them and asked for a ride, as did four others from the Potomac. One look at the young men – battle weary and anxious to celebrate that they lived ­– made T'Pol agree.

"Of course," said T'Pol. "But, perhaps we should leave Porthos at your apartment."

The dog yipped at his name as Archer lumbered behind it.

Travis grinned. "I don't mind waiting in the car while you drop Porthos off."

So much for any time alone, thought Jon.

T'Pol thought, There will be other opportunities … tonight.

----

Much to both T'Pol and Archer's chagrin, the entire entourage headed to the 602, starting the party at approximately ten minutes after five at night. Ruby was there, and bought the first round as the crowd got cranking. The music, made louder by the Ithanite, was barely heard under the crowd by seven. And by nine the entire room was a cacophony of sound. Ranol from the Toltek told wild stories to Shran as the Andorians huddled over some Andorian ale. T'Nara conversed with Skon, explaining how illogical human tactics were actually helpful, most likely saving the fleet. Gral's wife Martog joined them, swilling more beer than her husband and Jhamel sat in a corner quietly conversing with Hoshi about her upcoming wedding with Malcolm. Reed owned the dartboard, taking a few brave crewmen down while Travis and Kelby took care of the people who served under them, ordering drinks and ensuring everyone was well hydrated. Mel met up with Thames' crew, explaining how she'd barely survived and toasting fallen crew as well as a solid and sturdy ship. And Ki'ar made a point to talk with every good-looking woman in the entire bar, smiling with deviance as he spoke.

Archer made the rounds. Because the bar was cramped, he did his best to hobble from one table to another. He received pats on the back and made sure to pay his respect, drinking to dead comrades – like Captain Richards. Somber moments faded quickly; everyone was too happy to be alive and back on Earth, and funerals would start in two days. There was time yet to grieve.

Shran cornered Archer for more than thirty minutes, explaining in detail everything that had happened while he'd been away, including a brief mention of how "Scamp was zero-ing in on T'Pol like a fay-dor." The conversation went on, covering every nuance of his relationship with Tares, discussions about the Ithanite and more. Jon looked helplessly toward the bathroom, feeling his bladder call out for relief. As the admiral made his excuses, Shran held onto his arm.

"I want to talk with you about something … it's something General Krag asked me to convey to Gardner."

The seriousness of his eyes, made Archer nod.

"Maybe I can have your ear tomorrow?" asked Shran.

Agreeing, he made an urgent departure to the bathroom. After jiggling the handle of the commode of the unisex bathroom, laughing that they hadn't fixed it since he was a Commander, and following washing his hands, he opened the door to see T'Pol. Although she wasn't in line for the restroom, she was close in proximity. He felt his lips slope up immediately. A hand wrapped around her bicep, gently tugged her around and then led her toward the bathroom.

Alone at last, he thought. "I haven't seen you all night."

While being led, she whispered, "I was hoping we'd get the opportunity to speak."

Huddling her into the small room, he shut the door behind them.

"How about now?" he asked.

"Jonathan, we're in the restroom."

He smiled before planting his lips on hers and thrilled at the tingle that shot through his lips and into his stomach. When he parted from their embrace, which was several seconds later, he placed his forehead against hers again.

He said, "I've missed you, ashal-veh."

"And I you."

His hand cupped her cheek and his eyes scrutinized her face and hair; her tresses almost touched her shoulders. The robe she wore, he knew through their bond, was for special occasions – red and gold with runes down the front. Her eyes shone almost amber in the light, holding the same curiosity that remained there for years even when she was under his command.

He said, "You let your hair grow."

"I did."

"You look beautiful."

Reaching on her tippy-toes, she provided him a small kiss. And then her fingers ran over the remainder of his tiny scar that ran near his hairline.

"We have much to discuss," she said.

"I know." He sighed. "Maybe we can tackle the weightier issues tomorrow. Tonight I just want to … be."

He knew discussing their bond and what happened would be a lengthy discussion and demand his full attention; it was one where she would explain various rituals and techniques for the two of them. Personally, he was hoping the discussion would tackle the next phase of their relationship, one that deserved more attention than he could give it tonight.

With his fingers skimming over the hair at her temple, he whispered to her. "Maybe tonight we can just get … reacquainted."

The remark forced her eyebrows to jump.

Leaning over, he pressed his mouth to hers. One kiss became two and then six, and soon he realized his weight crushed against her, forcing her the towel dispenser and his hand gripped the back of her head so that his tongue could explore her mouth; it'd been a long time. Melting into her, feeling her fold into his form, he thought about the unity of their thoughts. His desire became hers and soon the reverberation of the emotion clouded all other thoughts. Just as he could tell she was going to push away, the door was thrown open to reveal Shran and a beaming smile.

"Don't let me interrupt."

Archer let his head fall against her shoulder. No privacy, not even in the bathroom.

"You did forget to lock the door," she said.

"Pink Skin, are you using this bathroom to mate? Good grendal, maybe humans need to tyla-tora more often than even thaan Andorians."

"That's not it," he said.

Shran waited, but Archer had no rebuttal. "Give us a few minutes, okay?"

"I have to go," said Shran.

"Just a few."

"I said I have to go!"

"Three minutes won't kill you," said Archer. Before Shran could respond, Archer closed the door and locked it. Turning to T'Pol his smile faded. "Sorry, I don't know--"

A hand on his arm reassured him that being caught kissing didn't bother her, at least not tonight. He could even feel tingles as if she too was overcome with emotion –lust.

"Did you have an okay time tonight?" he asked.

"Ki'ar continued to ask me to dance."

"He's the little copper guy?"

"Yes. Although I did enjoy conversing with Skon. He was able to update me on Staron's condition."

"I didn't know Staron made it. How is he?"

"He may recover. Apparently the only one who is awake is Commander Stiles."

"I hope he makes Captain after this," said Archer. "Being captured by the--"

Through the door they heard anger. "Hurry up!" The Andorian cursed.

Archer narrowed his eyes about to say something when T'Pol grasped his forearm. "We can continue this discussion at your apartment."

"I can be ready to go in about twenty minutes," said Jonathan. He watched her catch her breath.

"I can as well," she said.

Kissing once more, he pushed herself from her and opened the door. Shran was about to shove the admiral out of the way, when the door shut behind him.

"I have to go!" said Shran.

Archer shrugged, a hint of a smile on his face. "I guess T'Pol did as well."

"You know, Pink Skin, I did miss you." The Andorian's mouth twisted into something between a smile and a snarl. "But, I forgot what a tarpig you could be."

Archer patted him on the back. "I know the feeling."

Shran's antennae lurched and he folded his arms across his chest, cursing lightly under his breath as Archer walked away. Heading to the nearest chair – one high enough for him to rest, giving his aching legs and body respite – he leaned on it. Something tugged his pant leg.

"Yes?" he asked, looking down.

"You're tall!" said Ki'ar.

A smile slid across his face. "To some."

"You the Vulcan's lover?" he asked.

Turning his head to think about the question, Archer decided to agree. "I am."

"I like her."

"So do I."

Climbing up the bistro-style chair, Ki'ar finally made it into the seat as Archer tried to refrain from helping him, despite the man's skin-like toga revealing an interesting truth about Ithanites – they wore no underclothes. The man with the fez took his hat off and wiped his sweaty brow.

"The Vulcan. She's a good dancer."

Chuckling, Archer nodded. "She's not bad."

Ruby deposited two whiskeys on the table and Ki'ar took the glass and seemed to swallow the liquid in one gulp. After setting his glass down, he wiped the back of his arm against his lips.

"I hear you almost died," said Ki'ar.

"I suppose I did."

"That woman saved you?" he asked, pointing to Captain Vega.

"She did, and so did T'Pol."

Giving an appreciative grin, Ki'ar nodded at Vega. "Pretty."

Archer decided not to verbally agree, but gave a gentle smile.

Ki'ar asked, "You her lover too?"

His brows furrowed in response. "No."

"Then she's free game?"

"I guess," said Archer.

The Ithanite grinned appreciatively, reached over to swallow the drink Archer had in front of him and then leapt off the stool to go talk with her. A chuckle nearly wormed out of his mouth as he watched the woman crouch down to look Ki'ar in the eye while he tried to hit on her.

Twenty minutes came and left, and Archer lost sight of T'Pol despite waiting by the door. It was already after eleven, and people were heading out – many of them hailing shuttle cabs because they'd had too much to drink. Travis, linked arm in arm with Tares, walked out with a lazy smile on his face. Malcolm wandered out with Hoshi, their arms wrapped around each other as he sloppily kissed her, bragging about his dart-playing ability. Ki'ar meandered out with a couple of crew women – two Archer hadn't met – ­while the little man declared how wonderful Earth was. Gral huddled Martog out the door, the two blissfully arguing with each other, their voices carrying even as they meandered down the street. Shran helped his overly pregnant wife out, Jhamel holding her bloated stomach and waddling next to him. Ruby gave Archer the bill, and he agreed to leave the tab open for the rest of the crew, despite the number of credits already racked up. Finally, he saw T'Pol stroll over with Skon in tow.

"I told Skon we could ride with us."

Archer gave the smallest of frowns and settled next to T'Pol to limp out. He could tell instinctively she threw her arm around him, helping him to the shuttle, while Skon walked quietly at their side.

When they got into the vehicle, the Vulcan aide commented on the celebration, indicating he was "fascinated by the human traditions." T'Pol and he spoke briefly about toasting, drinking to fallen comrades and the loss of human inhibitions after partaking too much alcohol. It was a comment that earned eye rolling from Archer, and he soon began to look out the window, ignoring what he surmised was flirting for a male Vulcan.

Finally, after what seemed like ages to Archer, they took stopped in front of Skon's apartment building and the Vulcan cocked an eyebrow.

"Are you not going to your abode, T'Pol?" asked Skon.

"No," she said.

"She's staying with me," said Archer. He felt a little smug for saying it, but figured the Vulcan had it coming. Letting the comment drop caused his lips to slope up and his back to straighten. It pleased him more to see Skon confused and then slightly embarrassed.

"Then, have a pleasant evening," said Skon.

"We will. You try and do the same," said Archer.

T'Pol turned her head to him the moment Skon was out of sight, causing Archer to shrug.

"What did you want me to say?" he asked.

"Jonathan."

"What?"

She narrowed her eyes and moved the vehicle forward as he explained himself.

He said, "Come on, T'Pol. You've spent most of the night with him."

"He is my aide."

"You took him to the Mandarin Cove."

"I have yet to understand the significance."

"That's our restaurant."

"I have heard that argument before and yet I do not understand."

"Can't you tell from our bond what that means to me?"

"I know it has sentimental value to you."

He agreed, "It does."

"I am unsure why. We've eaten at other restaurants."

"That one is special."

"Why?"

"It just is." He sighed and looked over to see confusion settling onto her face. "There are some experiences I only want to share with you."

A furrow formed at her eyebrows and he placed his hand over hers as if that was explanation enough. Soon their fingers met in the form of a Vulcan embrace and Archer heard himself coo for her – telling her how much he'd missed her, how beautiful she was and how much he thought about being with her again.

As soon as the shuttle was parked in his garage, he hobbled out of the vehicle and she kissed him immediately. The thrill was exquisite, causing the hair on his arms to stand at attention and goose bumps to spread over his arms. He remembered parting his lips for her and their tongues touched, shooting fire through his stomach and pounding his heart.

An arm was thrown around him and soon he put his weight on her as she led him to his apartment, the two sneaking kisses as they walked down vacant halls that threatened population. When they reached the elevator, the kisses turned fiery, and he noticed they were panting when their lips broke apart, gasping for breath. A ding sounded and the lift doors spread open, waking the two from their embraces and he shifted his weight onto her on the way to his apartment.

The air was electrifying, and he felt his body vibrate and hum at the thought of her spending the night with him. As soon as the door shut to his apartment, the two attacked each other's mouths with desperation, him thinking that it had been too damned long since he'd tasted her tongue. With ease, he slid her outer robe off, leaving her shivering in the cold air of the room with only her flimsy under-robe on, the window open to allow the breeze of San Francisco. He had already unbuttoned his shirt and despite the night air tossed it on his floor. Just as he was about to devour her mouth again, attempting to swallow her tongue in passion, she backed away.

"Perhaps I should change," she said.

He got the idea she was going to slide into something more "comfortable" and couldn't help gulping at the idea, nodding feebly. Desire turned into delight, and he shed the rest of his clothes quickly and eagerly before jumping under the covers and dimming the lights to what he decided encouraged a romantic interlude, but would allow him to see her. Fingering a few buttons beside his bed, he activated his stereo, which played a low-key jazz album with a hot saxophone, turning it down so that he could appreciate the feminine whimpers he hoped she would make tonight.

Putting his hands behind his head, he heard the bathroom door creak open and he looked up to see her in a bathrobe – her hair brushed exotically forward and dramatically. Sucking in the air, he could smell she'd scented her body with lotion, the one that he'd been dreaming about ever since he left space dock.

He curled up his lips in response and patted the bed beside him.

"You didn't waste any time," she said, looking at the clothes strewn on the floor as she swished and sashayed her way to the bed.

"No," he said, his grin turning covetous.

The moment she was about to sit down, Porthos leapt to sit in the spot she was interested in occupying, the one directly by Archer and he frowned at his dog in response. Giving the little animal a gentle shove, he noticed his Beagle was intent on occupying the space.

"Porthos, down."

The dog placed his jowls on his front paws and whined.

"Down."

T'Pol sat next to him and stroked Beagle behind the ears.

"Perhaps he has missed me as well," she said.

"Too bad," he said. With a slightly more gruff push, he forced his dog off the bed and the creature snorted before heading for his doggie bed.

"You are eager," said T'Pol.

He couldn't help but sound desperate. "It's been more than three months, T'Pol." Watching her eyebrow shoot up he explained it was more than that. "With your thoughts roaming around inside my head … I've been thinking about you on and off during all that time. Even fantasizing about you."

"I know."

She scooted closer and the two found their lips locked together as he maneuvered her to lie down using the pillow beside him – his body still under the covers. Lips entreated throats and earlobes, his tongue licked the tip of her ear and their hands roamed greedily along whatever bare flesh was available and his over the silk of her robe. As his hands moved to untie the knotted belt at her waist, he heard his monitor buzz; someone was trying to contact him.

T'Pol, still prone, pushed away. "What was that?"

"That was my monitor," he said.

His mouth crashed against hers again and his tongue wound around her once before she squirmed free. "It's still buzzing."

"I know. I'm ignoring it."

His mouth almost reached hers.

"Why?" she asked.

"Because I'm kind of in the middle of something important, and I don't really want to be disturbed."

He noticed the smallest trace of desire flicker in her dark brown eyes and smiled at the response. It's when his hands presumed their work, tugging at her belt to free her of her clothing.

His nose and mouth caressed her neck. "You smell so good. I almost forgot your scent."

"It's a tari plant," she said. "Quite like your aloe vera."

Finally working through the knot, his lips dipped to just below her neck and he breathed deeply, realizing he was succumbing even more to the aroma of her. Letting his hands wander her body, he began to open the material – his breath labored as he did so. Just as he saw her belly button, there was a knock at the door.

T'Pol closed the blue material. "What was that?"

"The door," he said. His eyes gazed at hers and his hands were about to wiggle back to her robe so he could see her navel again.

"Perhaps I should get it," she said.

"I want you," he whispered into her ear. "I think the person at the door can come back."

He could tell the words thrilled her and she lay back to allow him to kiss her more. His tongue hung out of his mouth to begin running it along her throat, trying to seduce her again, when he heard the knock become more insistent.

"They appear interested in contacting you," said T'Pol.

"They'll just have to go away."

Even from where they were and over the soft noise of the jazz playing in the background, they heard a pounding followed by a muffled noise. Archer's teeth nabbed the tip of her ear as he heard a familiar voice, panicked.

"Pink Skin!"

T'Pol sat up. "Shran."

Archer knitted his eyebrows. "Ignore it."

"Jonathan, what if he called earlier?"

"He can come back later."

She flattened her lips.

"He can come back later," he repeated. Lifting his hand, he let his fingers wander in her hair as he heard the commotion begin outside again.

"He'll wake the neighbors."

A growl formed at the base of his throat, and he flung some pants on, grumbling under his breath as he went to answer the door – even bare chested. When he threw it open, with a glare on his face, he noticed right away the Andorian was pale, his hair askew and his antennae rigid as if scared.

"What's wrong?" asked Archer.

"Jhamel is ready to give birth," said the Andorian, who pushed his way past Archer into the room.

A mild smile sloped up, one still annoyed and yet supportive of his friend. "Shouldn't you be with her?"

"You have to be there as well. T'Pol indicated you two agreed to be the avat."

T'Pol walked out in her robe and Archer found his attention immediately turn to her.

"Jonathan, we did agree."

For a second, he thought about the woman across from him and the serious look on her face. Despite the want, he nodded his head slowly and said with a sigh he needed a second to change. T'Pol followed behind him when the two heard Thy'lek interrupt them.

"T'Pol, you made need this," said Shran, handing her the outer robe she was wearing earlier. When she took it from his hands, the Andorian pointed to the shirt on the floor.

"Pink Skin," he said.

Archer picked it up, dressing in front of him. "Thanks."

When T'Pol alone headed into his bedroom and closed the door, Shran's antennae drooped a bit. "You'll have time to mate later."

Archer furrowed his brow. Later kept going into the night.

"How long does an Andorian take to give birth?" asked Archer.

"Depends. It can take as long as two days." When Archer's face fell, the Andorian smiled. "I bought coffee so that you can stay awake during the entire process."

"Thanks."

TBC