Grimly, Archer closed the channel to Denobula. The Deputy Minister for Health made it abundantly clear she had a nearly endless number of better things to do with her time.

Not that Archer could blame her. He couldn't really imagine how he'd have felt about holding the hands of, say, a Tellarite delegation immediately after the Xindi probe. This woman had been teetering on an edge of panic and rage, taking the reins of Bureau of Health after the sudden death of the Minister herself, in childbirth. That morning. And Johnny Archer was nothing more than the call between two more important ones.

There was no time to brood, because no sooner had he rested his hands than his door chimed insistently, and when he saw who it was he dug his fingernails into his forehead so hard he almost broke the skin.

"You can't just waltz in here, Dr Harper," he snapped. "There is a protocol. Whatever is on that PADD you are holding needs to come to me through Dr Phlox, or not at all. You, frankly, are beneath my attention right now."

"Dr Phlox is busy," she said calmly, at some length. "Preoccupied. I'm trying to take certain things off his hands."

This was the moment to double-down, kick her out of the ready room, and report her to Phlox, but he'd bothered enough Denobulans with minutiae today. "Make it quick."

"I will," Alice replied, placing the PADD she was carrying down in front of him. "This won't do."

Archer frowned. "Slightly less quick than that."

"These are the quarantine protocols which Ensign Morello devised. For when Enterprise reaches Denobula."

"What about them?"

"They won't do."

Alice hadn't taken a seat and so Archer had to stand up to look down on her. She was tall, so he only had a few inches. The gesture wasn't lost on her - her expression changed - but it was clear that he'd only confused her rather than commanded any of the missing respect he'd been aiming for.

And he lost his temper.

"Now you listen to me. I may not be able to reverse your decision to rescind T'Pol's away-mission clearance, but don't think that means I don't see what's going on here. I put Morello in charge. Not you. You will not be furthering your career on the back of this particular disaster. I won't allow it."

Archer might have expected Alice to lose her temper, or at least fall back into a rigid 'at attention' posture, but naturally this woman did nothing of the kind.

"Oh!" She blinked incredulously. "Is that what you think? You think I want to be in charge of the response on Denobula?"

"Don't you?"

"No! Not really. It's a mess. And an obstetrical mess, at that. Wrong end for me. I'm more into brains. Now if it were a cerebral disorder of some kind, then sure. Well, maybe? I don't think I'd go to that sort of length. Unless, you know..."

"Then why are you here?" Archer snapped, not really believing her.

"The quarantine procedures. They..."

"Won't do. You said. Ensign Morello presumably disagrees."

Alice smiled uneasily. "H.B. doesn't have all the information. We have a pregnant crew member, and..."

"Pregnant? Who?" Archer asked, not bothering to keep his skepticism out of his voice.

"Oh, I can't tell you."

"Because you just made this pregnancy up?"

"No... Because...confidentiality."

Archer narrowed his eyes. "Well, in that case, I can't help you."

"But...I insist?"

"Get out of my ready room, Alice."

"Commander Tucker, can I talk to you?"

"Darlin' you need to start calling me Trip."

Engineering was quieter than usual, and no one was in ear shot. Nevertheless, T'Pol didn't look pleased. And damn it if she didn't look fucking adorable when she wasn't pleased.

"We are working, Commander Tucker," she sniffed, so archly that it HAD to be on purpose.

He swore if she stuck that adorable little nose of hers any further up in the air he was going to melt. "And did you want to talk about work?" He knew she didn't. If it had been about work, she would have spat it out by now.

"No," she admitted.

He wasn't busy. Not really. But he opted to tease. "And, is it urgent?"

"It is important, yes," she replied carefully. "But not in any sense urgent."

"Perhaps it should wait till I'm off shift then," he answered softly, leaning in for a kiss.

A gesture T'Pol missed entirely. "You are correct, Commander. We can discuss this matter at a later date." Then, to Trip's horror, she turned on her heels and marched out of sickbay.

Trip started after her, but he'd forgotten that his safety harness was still tethered to the gangway. Fortunately, Rostov was the discrete sort and was unlikely to spread word of the resulting prat-fall too far.

Less fortunately, by the time he'd extricated himself from the harness, T'Pol was gone. Instead, he encountered Alice.

"Trip! There you are! I need help..."

"It's not a great time, Alice," Trip replied looking past her for a sign of T'Pol.

"...I need help with the quarantine arrangements for Denobula," Alice continued anyway.

"I don't know anything about quarantine," Trip replied. "Apart from being under it a few times. I don't think that..."

"I need you to help me get the Captain agree to increased quarantine," Alice persisted, as Trip tried to squeeze past her. "Because of Commander T'Pol? Her... situation?"

Trip finally gave up on catching T'Pol, but was still in little mood to listen to Alice. "Alice, I'm busy and not following you. T'Pol's not going to Denobula, right? You weren't happy with her legs? What's she, and more importantly, I, got to do with quarantine, then?"

Alice blinked. "Because of her...situation with... You have no idea what I'm talking about do you?"

"Bingo. With you, I rarely do."

Alice's answering expression was unnerving. "You people are all trying to kill me," she hissed. "Never mind!"

Baffled, Trip watched the second woman in two minutes stalk away from him. He met Rostov's eyes. "Do you reckon it's something in the water?"

Rostov shrugged. "Hope not, sir. I hate fixing the reclaimators."

A lifetime of training had made Malcolm Reed acutely aware of the sound of opening doors, so he couldn't have failed to notice this one if he tried.

He waited and was rewarded. Trip's voice floated up the access tube. "Looks like your food's getting cold."

Trip did not sound like he was willing to be put off.

Aware his recent behaviour had been...concerning, Malcolm reluctantly downed his tools, and maneuvered out of the access tube with as much dignity as such an action allowed. "It can't be that cold," he muttered. "She only left it ten minutes ago."

Trip raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "Alice, you mean? Really, Malcolm! How long are you going to let this go on?"

"She'll give up on her own, soon enough. She called me a 'suppurating pile of marmoset scrota', today. And said she'd only picked a plate at random. And, that she hoped I'd starve."

Trip chuckled. "Well, there's no denying she's in a mood today. But that's lasagna, and there was no lasagna today. So, she didn't pick that at random, she must have got that specially made for you somehow."

"Blasted woman is under the impression I like lasagna," Malcolm muttered, although he stuck his fork into the offending pasta under Trip's insistent glare.

"You could do worse, you know," Trip replied, relaxing his posture somewhat now Malcolm was actually eating. "At least the insults would never be boring."

Malcolm sighed. "Except..."

"Except what?" Trip asked. "Except...Hoshi? This again? Malcolm, you are not in love with Hoshi. You are...and I hate to say this...you are in love with DRAMA."

Malcolm almost choked on the forkful of lasanga. "Honestly, Trip, we should harness your projection abilities and build a shell generator. I'M in love with drama?" Malcolm replied. "You know, Travis is still offering odds on Kaaitama turning up here with a suspiciously blonde toddler in tow."

Trip raised an eyebrow in an unintentionally hilarious impression of T'Pol. "And do you have money on that particular eventuality?"

Malcolm chuckled. "I have money against it, actually. I mean, you're stupid and everything, but not that stupid."

"I think what you meant to say is - You're stupid and everything, sir"

"Of course. Where are my manners?"

Hoshi stood naked in the darkness, listening to the soft whistle of Travis's ever so slightly deviated septum, while she stared out at the stars.

Her future was laid out before her.

Which was good.

Unless...

His hands, his fingertips tickle her skin. The candle light flatters him; he is golden and ever so slightly pink.

Pink from his red blood. Red. So exotic, so beautiful. A man, an alien. Her man. Who even bleeds beautifully.

"Darlin," he murmurs, sleep drawing around him even now. "What was it you wanted to say earlier? I'm sorry I was...I was only teasing, you know? I'm never too busy for you."

She smiles. "You do important work. There must be times when you are too busy for me."

"I ain't that important," he answers gently.

The ornamental grammar tells her that this is a joke. His fingers dance over her pelvis, in blissful ignorance of what lay within.

"It can wait," she says.