Disclaimer: Not mine.
Rating: PG-13 to R for Pon Farr, done non explicitly.
Chapter 5
About Two Years Later
All the children who lived on Enterprise had gathered for a celebration. It was Lily St. John Reed's seventh birthday, and by way of celebration they were having a Winnie-the-Pooh themed party, including traditional British tea and stuffed animal guests.
Captain Jonathan Archer looked down at the guest of honor, who was clutching the very same teddy bear that her parents had given her the first night she had arrived on Enterprise.
"I like your bear," said Archer.
"You say that every time you meet him," said Lily, matter-of-fact-ly.
Archer smiled.
"So, you and I know each other?"
Lily nodded rigorously.
"But you never remember. Your memory is broken. But you are always nice."
Archer smiled.
"I'm glad to hear that," said Archer.
"Once," said Lily, "Porthos got my Pooh in his mouth. You rescued him. Then you told me to forgive Porthos because he was just playing with him and wasn't trying to hurt him. Then, my mum stitched Pooh up."
"That sounds like quite a day," said Archer.
"It was. Would you tell me about the time you rescued my daddy from the Romulan mine?"
Archer was surprised that the little girl had heard the story of the minefield, especially considering how badly Malcolm had been hurt. Then again, he thought that maybe the fact that Malcolm had come through danger unhurt was comforting to a girl who lived such a grim existence.
"Well. . .I've told you this before?"
Lily nodded. Archer thought he best be as truthful as possible, given that he couldn't remember if he had glossed over anything or exaggerated a plot point. He also hoped that he had done the same thing previously. He glanced across the room, where Malcolm sat with his wife, Corporal Cole.
"Okay. . .well, as you know, we weren't meaning to do anything more than explore a planet that day. . .
***
Trip rang the chime on the door of T'Pol's quarters. As Captain, she had promised to make an appearance at Lily's party, but Trip had not seen her since the morning briefing. He did have the code to her quarters, but his instincts told him to ring this time. He didn't know precisely why.
"Come in," said T'Pol softly.
He did, and he found her lying face down on her bed. She didn't even lift her head, which was resting on her hands which were in turn resting on the pillow.
"Are you okay, Captain?"
"I am unwell. I have a fever," she said.
"I'll get you to the doctor," said Trip.
"I've already seen Dr. Sanders this afternoon," said T'Pol, "She prescribed the hypospray on the table. Would you bring it to me?"
T'Pol gradually sat up and onto the edge of the bed. Trip brought her the hypospray.
"You want me to administer it?"
She nodded, and he pressed the device into her neck.
"What did she give you? An analgesic?"
"She mixed it with a mild tranquilizer and . . .and a dose of regulatory hormones. .but that dose is the last one likely to work."
She looked into his eyes, and he immediately understood. The blood fever was coming upon her. He sensed that she was scared, really scared of what was happening to her. He gathered her into his arms.
"It's okay," he said, "You don't have to go anywhere. We'll take care of this just like we talked about. . .I'm here."
She placed her head on his shoulder.
"Once the hypospray begins to take effect, I shall be fine for a couple of hours. I don't want the crew to know anything is amiss yet. Dr. Sanders has agreed to tell Lt. Commander Reed we are both ill and confined to quarters for the next 48 hours, but before that I wish to file my reports for President Borges and arrange for Lt. Sato to handle Captain Archer for the next few days."
"Okay, Captain," he said, "You're the boss. Is there anything I can do in the meantime?"
"Stay near me," she said, "and let me know if you begin to experience symptoms through me."
He squeezed her tight.
"I can do that, baby," he whispered.
Minutes later, she had stopped sweating. She washed her face in the bathroom, squared her shoulders and looked very Vulcan.
"I only have a few hours," she said, "We must hurry."
****
T'Pol and Trip slipped into the mess hall, barely noticed. The children were sitting in a circle around Jonathan Archer and Malcolm Reed, who were both telling the story of the Romulan minefield, each adding their own perspective. The children, who had all heard the story before, "oooohed" and "aaaahed" at various points and Lily even buried her face in her hands when they came to part where the section of the hull detached with the two men aboard.
Amanda, dressed in civilian clothes, approached her commanding officers.
"Can I offer either of you birthday cake?" she asked, smiling.
Trip had expected T'Pol to decline, but she nodded yes.
"I'll take some, too," said Trip.
As Amanda fetched the cake, Trip searched T'Pol's face. She was losing her impulse control, he could feel it.
As the story concluded, the children applauded and Lily climbed into her father's lap. Jonathan approached Trip and T'Pol.
"Do you remember speaking with me earlier today?" asked T'Pol.
"I do," he said, "but I haven't seen you today, Trip, have I?"
"Not that I remember, Sir," said Trip, smiling.
It was a good day when Jonathan Archer accepted his situation with humor.
"How are you, then?" asked the former Captain.
"As well as can be expected, under the circumstances."
"Are any of these kids yours?" asked Archer.
"Nah," said Trip, "The little boy, Michio, he's Hoshi's. And of course, you know Lily. But I'm just everyone's Uncle."
"Kids on a Starship," said Archer, "Who would have ever thought?"
Trip shook his head. It wasn't ideal, but the children sure had brightened up the awful day to day existence since Earth's destruction. Trip glanced over at T'Pol, who was still savoring her cake. He knew he needed to get her up to the bridge to finish her reports and soon. After that, he hoped she could focus on getting herself well.
"Excuse me, Captain," said Trip, "I need to speak to Malcolm for a second."
Trip and Malcolm had developed an even closer working relationship than they had had before in the preceding two years. All Trip had to do was gesture slightly, and Malcolm knew Trip needed to speak with him alone. He put Lily gently off his lap and sent her to the corner where a few of the children were petting Porthos.
"What's up, Commander?"
"T'Pol's got a Vulcan illness. It's not catching, but she's going to be out of it for the next two days. And I'm the one that's going to have to nurse her back to health."
Malcolm squinted at this. He was trying to imagine what peculiar Vulcan illness would require the First Officer's attention. Or the de-facto husband. Malcolm guessed that it was the latter role that Trip was going to be fulfilling. Fortunately, the two of them had several times visited the planet together for meetings with President Borges, and Malcolm had done fine while in command.
"You know I can handle it. Are you sure she'll be okay?" asked Malcolm, glancing over at the Captain.
"Dr. Sanders thinks so," said Trip.
Malcolm nodded, hoping that there would be no pirate attacks or any other trouble while T'Pol was sick.
****
Once the reports had all been filed, and Hoshi had agreed to visit Archer the next two mornings, Trip and T'Pol headed toward her quarters. Trip noticed that sweat was again beginning to form on her neck and at her temples. While they were in the turbolift, she boldly put her arms around him. He expected a kiss, but instead she put her fingers at his temple and he felt her created a telepathic link. Suddenly, he was awash in the fever that had gripped her.
When she saw that her link had been successful, she smiled a little, and then Trip was truly scared for her. She was losing control, and it wasn't a good thing for her. But thanks to the link, he knew what he needed to do.
"Let's get you to your quarters, now," he said forcefully.
The turbolift door opened and she pulled him out toward her quarters. Trip looked around, but most people were either on duty or at the party, which after the children had all been taken to bed, had turned into a grown-up gathering.
"Don't touch me," he ordered, just in case they ran into anyone.
He knew the last thing she would want was someone observing her un-Vulcan behavior.
"You go first," he said, "and I'll follow."
She did exactly as she was told, but a few times during the walk, she turned to look at him, as if to be sure the link had been effective.
It had. Trip was more in control than she was but not by much.
As soon as they got to her quarters, he shut and locked the door behind them.
She turned to look at him with wide eyes. He saw none of the logic and serenity he usually found there. He saw animalistic lust, but behind that there was something else. She was being gripped by this blood fever, but beneath it she was scared. This was a life or death matter, and on top of that her emotions were unraveling.
She approached him, but he held his hand up.
"Take off your clothes," he said.
She smiled again, just slightly, and started to obey his orders. Meanwhile, he strode into the bathroom and turned on the faucet in the small shower. He wanted to at least try and sooth the literal fever that was gripping her before getting down to business. A cold shower would at least bring down her body temperature.
She appeared behind him, naked.
"Get under the water," he ordered.
She snapped something in Vulcan, but she did as he asked. As soon as the cold spray hit her body, she closed her eyes. He could tell it was soothing her, but it certainly wasn't curing her.
She again said something in Vulcan and opened her eyes. He was still fully dressed, but she pulled him under the water with her. Their lips met, and he quickly lost whatever control he had been clinging to.
****
Trip awoke on the floor of her quarters, naked but covered by a blanket. Every inch of his body hurt as though he had been in a bad fight. What wasn't cut was bruised. Then remembered that it wasn't a fight. At least, not technically. Pon Farr. Blood Fever. No wonder the Vulcans never talked about it. It represented everything they fought against in their own primal nature. He recalled the first time he had had sex with her, and he remembered her expectations had been of a violent act. No wonder.
He sat up. Water was running in the bathroom. He made his way there and saw her tending to a green scrape on her elbow. He also saw that she had a bronze-colored bruise on her cheek, and though it was accidental, he was appalled with himself that he had been the cause.
"Let me help you," he said and he took the antiseptic cloth from her and gently cleaned the wound.
"Can you remember English?" he asked softly.
"Yes," she said, clearly thankful that the worst was behind them, "Thank you. Thank you for everything."
He smiled at her.
"That's what bondmates are for," he said, applying a bandage to her wound, "I'm sorry for hurting you."
"You saved my life," she said simply.
She began tending to his wounds, cleaning and bandaging a cut on his eye before focusing on the many scratches on his back.
"How are you feeling? I know we're through the worst of this, but do you think you'll be all better by tomorrow?"
She nodded.
"Already, I feel my serotonin levels returning to normal."
When she was through bandaging him up, he led her to her bed and made her slip under the covers. He joined her, putting his arms gently around her.
"You acquitted yourself well, husband," said T'Pol sleepily, "A Vulcan could not have done better."
Trip almost brought up that they weren't officially married, but then he realized that according to her culture, they were. That was what this business had been all about.
As she drifted off to sleep, he gently brushed the bruise on her cheek and was very grateful this would only happen every seven years.