ACT ONE

The crash of waves against the rocks wasn't as soothing as he'd hoped.

Hands in his jacket's pockets, Rear Admiral Jonathan Archer stared at the rolling surf without expression. He had hoped that coming to this place would allow him to grieve in privacy, away from the knowing looks and words of condolences that he kept receiving at Starfleet Command. Clearly, his relationship with Erika hadn't been as secret as either of them had thought.

To his surprise, though, he found himself emotionally numb. The tears that he needed to shed would not come; instead, all he felt was a rising anger, a fury that trembled on the edge of being homicidal. Hands clenched tightly in fists, he closed his eyes and focused on the lingering presence of Surak in his mind. Now, more than ever, he needed that control. It was one of the universe's greatest ironies, he thought, that he would seek Vulcan attributes in this most personal loss.

"Hello, Jonathan."

His anger intensified at the too-familiar voice, and he turned slowly to focus his glare on the features of the time agent, Daniels. To his surprise, however, the temporal operative was wearing normal-looking civilian clothes, appearing to be nothing more than another visitor to this secluded Washington beach. Gone was the absurd-looking outfit that he had so often appeared in.

"Go away," Jon snapped, fighting the urge to lash out physically. "I'm done with you." Daniels frowned slightly as he gave the mostly unoccupied beach a quick look.

"My condolences for your loss, Commodore." The agent shifted awkwardly where he stood, but did not make eye contact. Inexplicably, that infuriated Archer even more.

"You could have saved her," he accused Daniels, knowing it was true. How many times had the man pulled Jon's ass out of the fire when he should have died?

"No," Daniels replied, finally meeting Archer's eyes. "I couldn't. History records that Captain Hernandez died at Acheron."

"Fuck your history," Jon snarled. The anger was surging through his veins, and that tentative control learned from Surak suddenly wasn't enough. "You could have done something!"

"I am doing something." Daniels drew himself upright as he glanced at his chronometer. "This is part of my job, Jonathan. I don't have to like it." He started to back away.

Jon was faster.

His fist flashed out, catching the temporal agent squarely on the jaw with a loud crack. Caught unprepared, Daniels staggered backwards, tripping over his own feet as he brought his hands up to defend himself. He collapsed onto the sand with a loud grunt, before looking up at Archer with narrowed eyes.

"I deserved that," the agent conceded softly as Jon loomed over him. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't bring her back," Archer snapped. For a moment, the fury made it difficult to think, and Jon fought the urge to hit Daniels again. An admiral wasn't supposed to behave this way, he reminded himself darkly. "I've ignored you before, and the timeline wasn't shot to hell." Daniels looked away for a moment as he climbed to his feet; he refused to make eye contact, once more glancing at the chronometer that encircled his left wrist, and Jon felt his stomach lurch. "You knew I'd ignore you those times," he realized.

"Yes." Daniels seemed intent on keeping a full meter of distance between them, and Archer nearly laughed at the absurdity of that. Here was a man who could manipulate and reshape time, yet was afraid of getting punched. "Your profile indicated that you didn't like being told what to do, and reverse psychology was more effective than honesty." The temporal agent offered an embarrassed shrug. "History has always recorded that you went onto the Xindi weapon. By urging you to send someone else, I made sure that you would go."

"You used me."

"I did," Daniels replied with a nod. "That's my job, Jonathan. I didn't have to like it." It was too much to handle, knowing that he had been successfully manipulated by the temporal agent. Even more galling was the realization that he had been controlled so easily.

"Go to hell," Archer snapped as he turned away.

"Hell?" For the first time in Jon's memory, the temporal agent sounded angry. "You want to see hell?"

In an instant, everything around them changed. The once clear blue skies were now red and scorched. The distant buildings of Port Angeles were gone, shattered beyond repair. Nothing moved. It was infinitely worse than the previous time that the temporal agent had pulled Jon forward in time.

"This is Earth of my time if you lose this war," Daniels continued darkly. "After they spend hundreds of years trying and failing to subjugate humanity, the Romulans finally decided that it was too much trouble to even try." His expression soured. "For a full day, their entire fleet conducts an orbital bombardment that results in this." He gestured expansively. "Humanity is virtually extinct."

"Then give me intelligence, not cryptic warnings," Archer growled. He crossed his arms and glared. "I'm done playing your damned game, Daniels. You want something from me, I expect payment in kind. Quid pro quo."

The temporal agent was silent for a moment before sighing deeply. Around them, the image of a shattered Earth faded back to normal, prompting Jon to wonder if it was just some sort of holographic illusion. Was Daniels playing him again? Archer frowned.

"I don't have time for this," Daniels muttered as he checked the time once more. Louder, he continued, speaking quickly. "I can't give you specifics, Jonathan," he said. "But I can give you some intelligence that might help." Daniels' eyes narrowed as he studied Archer's jacket. "You've been promoted," he declared with some surprise before turning his attention to a PADD-like device.

"After Acheron," Jon stated. The chirps and beeps emerging from Daniels' device were oddly familiar, the agent's smack on the uncooperative PADD even more so.

"Earlier than in the official timeline," Daniels said before glancing up. "But not worth the headache to fix." His smile looked forced, and faded quickly when Jon didn't return it. A moment passed in silence as the temporal agent manipulated his data device rapidly; the sense of urgency that he conveyed simply with his body language was slightly worrying. The PADD that Archer carried in his jacket suddenly vibrated, an indication of incoming data. Jon gave the agent a disbelieving look, not quite ready to believe that the other man had actually provided information after years of dissembling.

"As I said," Daniels stated, returning his data device to a pocket. "There are no specifics there. Only generalities." He frowned as he checked the time once more. "Most of the records we had about this war were lost." He narrowed his eyes slightly. "There is one other thing that most historians agree upon, Admiral," Daniels continued, speaking more rapidly. Archer drew in a breath to steady himself; never before had the temporal agent volunteered so much information. It was an indication of how dire the situation was. "You have a traitor in Starfleet Command."

"Who?" Jon demanded hotly. The idea that a human could have been responsible for Erika's death sent a surge of fury pulsing through his body.

"That's unknown." The temporal agent held up his hands to ward off Archer's next question. "The only real reference to the traitor is from your personal memoirs written about thirty years from now. You evidently concealed the identity for reasons we don't entirely comprehend." Daniels glanced at the chronometer he was wearing and frowned. "This will be our last interaction, Jonathan. There is a natural phenomenon that blocks travel to or even observation of the next seventy years." He smiled slightly. "That's why the last few years were so important."

"The Suliban's benefactor was Romulan, wasn't he?" Archer asked without thinking. It was a theory that had been bothering Jon ever since the war began; everything that the mysterious figure had done seemed designed to weaken Earth. And, if intelligence estimates were correct, the dissolution of the Expanse had only accelerated the Romulan's timetable; prior to that point, there was only a single recorded encounter with a Romulan craft of any sort. Afterwards, they had been crawling all over the quadrant. Daniels gave him a surprised look before nodding; from his expression, the temporal operative had been taken off balance by Jon's accurate guess.

"Yes." He gave his chronometer another glance. "He's no longer a threat." Another sigh escaped the agent. "Before he was ... contained, he provided the Romulans with some technological advances that they didn't have previously." Daniels smiled slightly, nodding at the PADD that Jon was now holding. "That should even the playing field somewhat." A shrill tone emerged from the temporal agent's chronometer, and his expression darkened as he consulted the time. When he spoke again, it was in a rapid rush. "But most importantly, you must stop the Romulans from acquiring-!"

With an abrupt flash, Daniels vanished in mid-sentence, his cryptic warning unfinished. Before Archer could react, his communicator began beeping rapidly. He frowned in recognition of the emergency alert code and reached for the device. A concerned look on his face, Jon flipped the communicator open.

"This is Archer."

"Priority Alpha recall!" The young man on the other end of the comm-line sounded panicked. "Stand by for transport!" Even before the sentence was finished, Jon could feel the distinct tingling of a transporter stream surrounding him. He closed his eyes as the sensation of being in two places at once caused him to reel, and the feeling of being drenched with freezing water caused his hands to tremble. Before he could catch his breath, it began again. He understood instantly, of course. From Port Angeles, Washington, he had been beamed to an orbital station, where he was promptly returned to Earth, this time to Starfleet Command in California.

"Sir!" A petty officer darted forward, pushing a computerized clipboard into Jon's hand before he even had time to step off of the transport pad. "Romulan power signature detected near Neptune!"

"Where's Gardner?" Archer demanded as he pushed by the enlisted yeoman. He was rapidly scanning the data with growing worry; this data was nearly an hour old!

"Briefing the president, sir!" The petty officer fell into step beside him. "You're in command, sir!"

"I want all ships in the fleet to go to tactical alert." Jon glared at the door to the turbolift that was taking too long to respond to his summons. He did a quick mental inventory of the ships that were available and still battle ready. There was really only one ship that leaped to mind. "And get me Endeavour."