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Special thanks go to QuietRaine and jackwabbit for beta reading the original version. This one has been lightly rewritten.
Late Night Contemplation
By their nature, humans were diurnal instead of nocturnal. T'Pol decided to make use of that fact and had come to the deflector control room at 0330. Opening one of the portals, she sank onto the floor, arranging her legs automatically as she selected the brightest of the stars before her.
Focus, she began reciting to herself as she had so many times before. Become aware of the rhythm of your breathing. In. Out. There is only the flame and your breath.
Ordinarily, of course, she would have lit a candle in her quarters. On human ships, though, the use of open flames was banned. The star was an adequate substitute, but only barely; she felt the lack of a flame — and the lack of privacy — keenly. Among other things, use of this venue meant she had to remain in her uniform instead of changing into looser clothing, even though she'd intentionally chosen an hour when all but essential crew would be off-duty and asleep.
Focus, she told herself more emphatically. You are becoming distracted by your surroundings. Now, there is only the flame and your breath. In. Out. In. Out.
The door to deflector control slid open behind her. Footsteps echoed in the darkness. She needed only a moment to identify her companion, based on the unique rhythm of his gait.
Captain Archer.
She did not move, but she accepted that her attention had become focused outward. What is, is. No doubt he would speak in a moment or two. Checking up on our deflector technology, Sub-Commander? Perhaps you might consider sharing those Vulcan shields? Oh, wait, I should know better. We mere humans aren't ready for those, are we?
But he said nothing. Instead, he moved to another of the portals and opened it, leaning against the sill and looking out toward the stars.
In time, she returned to her task. Focus, she told herself, sternly now. If he wishes to address you, he will do so. If he does not wish to address you, he will not. You cannot choose his action; you can only choose your response.
Closing her eyes, she imagined the flames she might see were she nearer to her chosen star. She brought to mind the scent of her favorite meditation candle, which had remained in her quarters at Earth's Vulcan Consulate during this brief errand to Qo'Nos.
They'd dropped Klaang off several hours earlier and were on their return trip to Earth. She would be able to meditate with her candles within another day's time, rather than needing to find a substitute aboard this cold ship crewed by such loud humans.
At the other portal, Captain Archer took a deep breath. T'Pol opened her eyes long enough for a brief glance sideways. His face, bathed in starlight, had taken on a thoughtful expression. If she hadn't known better, she would have believed he was meditating as well.
On some Vulcan ships, portions of the observation areas were reserved for meditation. While privacy was impossible in such surroundings, protocol dictated that one did not address those who were engaged in the practice. But the etiquette on this human ship was less than clear.
There is only the flame and your breath, she reminded herself, letting her eyes close again. Breathe in. Breathe out. In. Out.
She was uncertain exactly how much time had passed, which was not an unusual occurrence during her nightly meditation routine. Experience had taught her that she would complete it before she had to report for the next duty shift. Beyond that, it was unimportant whether she spent twenty minutes in meditation, or three hours.
It wasn't until she heard Captain Archer speak her name that she realized she had, in fact, successfully reached a properly contemplative state of mind. Coming back to herself, T'Pol blinked as she opened her eyes. "Captain?"
His voice was soft, though she could still detect the acerbic edge it usually held when he addressed her. It was, however, much milder than usual. "Your quarters not good enough for sleeping, Sub-Commander?"
"I was not sleeping," she answered, feeling centered as a result of the meditation exercises she'd already completed. "I was merely considering the stars."
"Meditating, maybe?"
Surprised, she glanced over at him. She had not expected him to know any more about Vulcans than the strictly necessary. "Yes. Were you aware that doing so is common practice among Vulcans?"
"Actually, I wasn't," he replied. "It was just a guess. A lot of humans practice meditation, too."
Intriguing. "I did not know that."
He laughed softly, turning back toward the portal. "And how long have you lived on Earth, Sub-Commander?"
"Many years." This was not the time to try and calculate exact numbers. "However, I would never presume to invade upon humans' private practices."
"Humans don't usually consider meditation private," he explained. "It's just something we consider…solitary, I guess. Not very many people know when a human practices it; it's usually just close family and friends. Occasionally, it's a religious practice."
"Do you engage in meditation, Captain?" It seemed to be an appropriate question, though one could never be completely certain with humans. They so easily took offense.
Archer's lips quirked briefly into a smile as he looked back at her. "What do you think I was doing just now?"
The overtone of contempt in his voice had become warmer, crossing into a lighter irony. At least he wasn't offended. Still, it was likely a breach of protocol, so she responded with a nod of acknowledgment. "I apologize for disturbing you, then."
"You didn't disturb me. I spoke first. If anything, I should apologize for disturbing you."
"No apologies are necessary. As you said, you did not know that Vulcans meditated."
"I do now," he said. "But I am curious: why here? Deflector control's a bit of an unusual place, especially at four in the morning."
"I was…" she trailed off. "The use of a flame is helpful in finding focus. I typically use a candle, but open flames —"
"Open flames are prohibited as a safety hazard aboard human starships," he finished for her. "You were looking for a star, then. Not a star trail like we see in our quarters, I mean."
She nodded in response.
"You know, Sub-Commander, sometimes we make exceptions to the rules. A single candle's not likely to be a hazard when it's being watched, the way someone might during meditation." He paused. "I would have authorized it, if you had asked. I'm sure I'm not the only human captain who would."
"It did not seem…" T'Pol found herself trailing off again, trying to phrase this comment carefully. "It did not seem like the sort of request that would be welcomed."
"Well, if you're ever on one of our ships again, now you know." He stepped toward the door. "Good night, T'Pol. I'll see you on duty in a few hours."
It didn't occur to her until then to ask why he had chosen deflector control for his meditation. Of course, she had not imagined that humans might engage in such contemplative practices. The concept was certainly not consistent with their usual boisterous, emotional and childlike demeanors.
Perhaps she had miscalculated somewhat when it came to her assessment of humans and their practices. During this trip, she had seen several indications that they were indeed capable of discipline, quiet and focus. The captain had certainly demonstrated more than one of those just now, and he'd implied other humans also routinely behaved in such a manner.
Intriguing, she thought again. It was a line of thought worthy of further observation and study.
But such observation and study would require spending more time among humans, not less. Somehow, though, in the silence of the early morning and with a freshly-calmed mind, consideration of the concept didn't seem as repulsive as it might have before.