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Chapter Text

Jon was going to lobby for the theologically based and abstract “hot as hell” to be replaced with the nondenominational and more concrete “hot as Vulcan.” If anyone argued that at least it was a dry heat, he was going to have them removed from his staff. The air was too thin, and it felt like he was walking around with weights attached to every limb. Even if he had wanted to disagree with T’Pol’s suggestion to pace himself, he wouldn’t have been able to. When they finally got inside the embassy, he developed the worst headache he had ever had in his life. It made sense to accept T’Pol’s suggestion that he retire early. 

The next morning, he was much less sure. The headache pounding in his skull was strong enough to make his balance laughable and his stomach reject even sips of water. He laid on the cool tile of the bathroom and cursed Vulcan, the principal ambassador, and whoever was at the door. The knocking was painful. Another person approached the door, and the knocker went away. Jon opened his eyes to find T’Pol looking down at him. Things after that were a bit of a blur. She helped (or carried?) him back to bed and coaxed him into drinking from a cup she brought him. The second morning, T’Pol arrived with more tea and a traditional Vulcan breakfast. He managed to keep down the Plomeek broth and had enough presence of mind to ask T’Pol about where she got the tea. Apparently, it was part of a personal stash. It was the same tea her mother had given her when she felt unwell as a child. He learned that Vulcans do, in fact, get sick.

to the breakfast nook in his quarters and joined him for the meal. Even as he got stronger, he found himself looking forward to the time he got to spend just with her. T’Pol was different when they had breakfast. Maybe it was the tea. Maybe it was the lack of official business. Maybe it was the abundance of safe topics. Jon felt like he could actually get to know her over a cup of tea. 

The fourth day she brought a slightly different tea. He couldn’t taste the difference. She explained it to him. That was the day he learned that humans do actually stink to Vulcans, but only because they have a more sensitive sense of smell. Sending Hoshi to find Vulcan soaps, so he could stop using the stronger ones he brought from earth was incidental. By day ten, breakfast with T’Pol was his favorite thing. He had learned about the history of the city, some Vulcan customs and temples, and traditional cuisine. T’Pol was laying breakfast when he went to find her. It looked the same as other mornings. The Plomeek broth was sitting in its traditional vessel at the center of the table. Two black bowls with their wide shallow spoons sat opposite one another. A teapot sat with a wisp of steam flowed from the spout, and two small cups sat near by. The picture was so thoroughly Vulcan that he would have rejected it two weeks ago. Now, the sight brought him a rare comfort.

“I never thought a day would come when I looked forward to Vulcan tea and Plomeek broth in the morning.” Jon said as he made his way to the table.

“I am certain you will return to your former dining habits as you continue to recover.” T’Pol answered without looking at him. “If you are feeling up to it, I brought a stronger tea this morning.” She poured the tea.

“Really?”

“Only if you are feeling up to it.” She emphasized as she served herself broth. 

“It’s strong for a Vulcan tea. How did you find this one?” Learning about tea was the safest way to learn about T’Pol. There were teas she had since she was a child. Teas she found as an adult. Teas were woven into the fabric of her life. Learning to see those threads were helping him get a clearer picture of who his cultural attaché was. 

“It is K’Tav’s favored blend.”

“Really?”

“There is nearly always a pot on his desk.”

“Does your father favor it as well?” Jon asked. He knew it was a risk. She always got quiet when he tried to learn more about her father. Sometime it felt like she was protecting her father from him, and she probably was. Jon knew his attitudes were more than partially to blame. Maybe it was the magic of tea over breakfast, but she answered the question.

“No, that was one point they could never agree on. When K’Tav would visit, my father would prepare two separate pots. I would drink from both.” She said. If Jon didn’t know better, he would swear she was fond of that memory.

“Have we tried your father’s tea?”

“No, I haven’t had that tea since I was young. The blend is uncommon and rather difficult to get off world. My father took to drinking more readily available teas as I grew older, and he returned to Vulcan with less frequency.”

“Never this one?”

“This isn’t precisely a common tea either. It’s strong. If you take a liking to it, I know we will be able to get it aboard Tal’Kir because K’Tav is never without it.”

“Can’t it be replicated?”

“Theoretically. K’Tav is old fashioned.”

“What about you?”

“I tend to prefer natural leaves as well. Replicated teas miss the minute variations that make every pot unique.”

“I had honestly never given much thought to tea unless it had large quantities of sugar in it. Sounds like you grew up around the stuff.” He was giving it plenty of thought now. Finding that tea her father drank would be the perfect thank you for everything. He would send Hoshi into the city as soon as breakfast was over. Hoshi was resourceful. If anyone could find the tea, it would be her. Jon refocused on breakfast. Listening and learning and trying to find common ground was enough for now. There was something special about a Vulcan breakfast.

Chapter Text

In hindsight, four crates of tea leaves may have been slightly excessive. Ambassador Archer had said that he didn’t want to run out of that airy tea under any circumstances. One crate of only that blend should make that unlikely. Another was full of specialty blends from that shop should provide adequate distraction on the off chance that occurred. The other two crates were various Vulcan blends to provide some variety. 

“Are you waiting for the shuttle to Tal’Kir ?” 

“Yes.” Hoshi answered. Malcolm was getting suspicious, but Malcolm was always suspicious. 

“I am Malchat. I’ll be serving as second in command aboard Tal’Kir .”

“Have you met K’Tav?”

“A few times. I am honored to be serving with him. What do you think of the captain?”

“I don’t know him that well. He’s been really great so far.” “Oh! I’m Hoshi Sato, the ambassador’s translator. This is Malcolm Reed. He’s the ambassador’s body guard.”

“The ambassador’s body guard is not guarding the ambassador?” Malchat probably meant no offense, but Malcolm’s feathers were still thoroughly ruffled.

“The ambassador is already aboard. He had Malcolm escort me to pick up a few things.”

“A few things?” Malchat looked at the four crates with a raised eyebrow. 

“Tea.” Hoshi answered with a smile. 

“Tea?”

“Tea. Vulcan tea has become essential to the ambassador since we arrived. I was sent to ensure he wouldn’t have to do without.”

“Clearly he put the right people in charge. That should be enough tea for years.” 

“Haven’t seen the way he and T’Pol go through the stuff.” Malcolm muttered under his breath. He had apparently forgotten that both of his companions had better than average hearing. Hoshi giggled in the awkward silence. 

“T’Pol?” Malchat asked.

“The ambassador’s cultural attaché.”

“Why would she share his tea?”

“Who do you think introduced him to Vulcan tea?” Hoshi asked with a raised eyebrow.  When Malchat had no response, she asked,  “Ambassador Archer serves it in meetings. T’Pol is the only member of the staff that really has a taste for it. Is this your first time serving with humans?”

“Is it that obvious?” Malchat said in that flat way that could hide emotions unless you really listened. Hoshi was pretty sure she heard nerves. She decided to turn the spotlight away from the nervous Vulcan. 

“You’ll get used to us. It just takes a while. Malcolm still isn’t used to humans and he’s been one his entire life.”

“Oi!”

“My bad, in this life. In a past life, you were a grumpy basset hound.” As she predicted, the reference to their conversation on reincarnation three days earlier made him blush.

“Don’t worry, Malchat. The command staff rarely has reason to interact with the ambassadorial staff.” Hoshi comforted the inexpressive Vulcan. Malchat was too polite to say what he was thinking, so Hoshi needled Malcolm until the shuttle arrived. Loading the crates aboard was easier with Malchat’s help. The pilot radioed ahead for help unloading the crates with an eyebrow that was only slightly raised. The one person she was worried about tracking down was waiting for the shuttle in Tal’Kir ’s third bay.  

“K’Tav,” Hoshi said with slightly more enthusiasm than she would typically use when speaking Vulcan, “I got you something where you didn’t get anytime on the surface.” K’Tav accepted the small parcel without raising an eyebrow. It was progress. “I heard that you like rich blends, and a tea merchant said these were the best leaves he had ever seen. We have to get these crates to Chef before we can break orbit. I’ll talk to you soon.” Hoshi rushed to catch up to Malcolm and staff that were helping him haul the tea. 

“Are they always like that?” Malchat asked before she was too far away to hear. K’Tav’s response was indistinct.

“Did he like the tea?” Malcolm asked.

“He accepted it. It’ll give us something to talk about next time if nothing else.”

Malcolm may have shook his head, but he had been the only one that sat with her when she was prepping for her first meeting with K’Tav. Even Travis had left when she started talking about the importance of voiceless alveolar fricatives. Malcolm had kept eating and reading from his PADD. Hoshi knew he listened. He had mentioned something she had said later. Malcolm was always listening. 

Chapter Text

“Speak.”

“Captain, you are receiving a direct message of the highest priority through diplomatic channels.”

“Origin?” K’Tav asked, but he knew who it was.

“The Vulcan embassy at Sausalito on Earth.”  The lieutenant confirmed. Soval. K’Tav knew this would happen eventually, but there had been no reason to expect it so soon.

“Put it through.” He resigned himself to whatever was to follow.

“Yes, sir.”

“Soval,” K’Tav kept his greeting measured, but it was difficult. This was a rare abuse of diplomatic privilege from his oldest friend. 

“I just received a message from my daughter that exclusively consisted of the words ‘I am alive.’ I was not aware that was in question. She is not answering my hails.” Soval was a master of suppressing his emotions, but K’Tav could feel Soval’s concern for T’Pol despite the distance.

“She is likely asleep. It is the middle of our night cycle.” That was a shallow comfort, but he could offer little more. He had not seen her since they had embarked. 

“Why was her life in danger?” Soval asked with uncharacteristic impatience.

“You were aware she was leading an ambassadorial excursion to P’Jem?”

“Yes. She consulted me regarding protocols.”

“Andorians had taken the sanctuary. She, the auxiliary ambassador, his bodyguard, and translator were held prisoner overnight. The Andorians believed there was a listening post below the sanctuary. They were right. I took a team and stormed the sanctuary this morning. We liberated the monks and retrieved the ambassadorial party.” It was a brief but accurate accounting of events. More importantly, it would not incriminate anyone if brought up at trial. 

“We have shared a mind since my katra revived you on Paan Mokar. Why didn’t I feel this?” Soval’s 

“I was mildly sedated.” K’Tav confessed and steeled himself for the response. 

“Is that wise?”

“It was necessary.”

“Was it?”

“I am not in my sixties anymore. The doctor is supervising my doses.”

“T’Pol?” 

“I have concerns, but she is physically well. Archer was protecting her. She had a bruise on her cheek. She sprained her ankle.” 

“Why was he protecting her?” 

“I haven’t had the chance to ask. She went to her quarters immediately after we docked. He went to sickbay before going to his quarters to rest. Repeated interrogations. He had several cracked ribs and a concussion.” 

“Why aren’t you asleep?” 

“I led a strike team against Andorian insurgents in a Vulcan sacred place. My reports require reports.” 

“You’ve amended your flight plan?”

“Of course, the auxiliary ambassador will need time to mend.” K’Tav didn’t give Soval the real reason. He didn’t have to. The high command would need someone to hang this on. T’Pol was the most obvious choice. Keeping her away from Vulcan was their best move for the time being. Archer and his diplomatic privileges were a tool to that end.

“You’ll protect her?” Soval asked. K’Tav embraced the offense that threatened to rise. He had been protecting her since the moment he held her in his arms sixty four years earlier. 

“As my own.” K’Tav agreed. Even at this distance, K’Tav could feel the overwhelming gratitude. They sat in silence for a moment. K’Tav worked on his reports while Soval was trying to untangle whatever had made him hostile to Archer. The company - even with the vast coldness of space between them - was appreciated. One of Soval’s aides interrupted the silence reminding him of some commitment. 

“Get some sleep, K’Tav.” Soval said with a weariness that exceeded K’Tav’s. K’Tav didn’t respond. They both knew sleep would elude him tonight. There was no logic in pretending otherwise. 

“Peace and long life.” Soval said after a moment.

“Live long and prosper.” K’Tav terminated the communication and returned to his work. A few hours later, K’Tav felt a wave of peace. Soval was meditating for them both. A few hours of sleep wouldn’t do any harm. K’Tav had done what he could for the night. T’Pol was safe for the time being. 

K’Tav rose from his desk. He lowered the lights and slid between the cold sheets. 

Just a few hours.

Chapter Text

Jon stared at the half finished kal-toh board and thought about sending T’Pol a message. When they talked while they played, he could convince himself she considered him a friend. Almost.

 He sank into the couch with a sigh. The day had been hell. He didn’t need to spill his thoughts to an almost friend over the kal-toh board. He needed a friend to sit and watch the polo game with. He needed something stronger than tea. Trip… Trip would normally watch with him, but there were too many things he couldn’t let slip. Searching for the Xyrilian vessel was a shot in the dark. If they did find the ship, there was no way of knowing if they’d be willing or able to help. The Xyrilians would know just as much about human biology as Phlox knew about theirs. K’Tav wasn’t entirely convinced the impregnation was accidental. Jon could normally hold his beer; tonight he wasn’t willing to risk it. 

“Looks like it's just me and you, buddy,” he told Porthos as he scratched the beagle’s head. He still needed to go pick up some beers from the mess before he could make a night of drinking with his dog. He should probably get some cheese while he was there to make sure Porthos didn’t leave him to watch the game alone. The chime of his door pulled Jon from his thoughts and off the cushions. When he opened the door, he found T’Pol standing on the other side. 

“T’Pol, I’m not in the mood for kal-toh.” She raised an eyebrow sharply, and Jon regretted the assumption. There were dozens of reasons she might disturb him in his quarters. Her life didn’t revolve around playing kal-toh with him. It was probably sad that his life did.

“I suspected as much when you did not send an invitation.” T’Pol answered. “I came to watch the water polo game with you. I brought drinks.” She lifted the six pack in her right hand. This had to be a dream. There were two bottles of sparkling water he assumed were hers and four bottles of his favorite beer. She must have talked to Chef. Porthos saved him from having to reply immediately. The beagle scampered around Jon and stood with his front paws on T’Pol’s leg. T’Pol looked at the dog with her usual mild discomfort. 

“You want to watch water polo?” He asked as he grabbed Porthos. She looked at him like the answer was obvious. Maybe it was, but it still didn’t quite seem real. “I don’t think your sensitive nose would like me drinking beer.”

“I made use of a nasal numbing agent.” T’Pol answered, and there was no way he could be dreaming. He never would have imagined that she would go that far to spend time with him. In his long speechless pause, T’Pol started to withdraw, “Ambassador, if my presence is unwelcome, I-”

“T’Pol,” Jon cut her off firmly. “Come in.” She walked dutifully through the door and followed him to the sitting room. 

“If my company is not wanted,” she was still backtracking. This was the sweetest thing anyone had done for him recently, and she was so unsure of it. 

“You will be perfect company.” He called behind him. She still lingered at the door as he plopped Porthos on the couch and popped the cap off her sparkling water. “You won’t expect me to talk. You won’t expect me to feel.” She accepted the still chilled drink with suspiciously empty hands. “No PADD?”

“My research indicated that it is considered disrespectful to make use of personal electronics during a sporting event. Were my sources inaccurate?” She took the spot on the couch he had started thinking of as hers.

“No, you’re right.”  Jon was slowly beginning to realize how outside of her comfort zone this was.  “It might bore you.” He warned as he took his seat. Porthos flopped over next to T’Pol while Jon’s back was turned. The traitor was smart enough to make sure he wasn’t technically touching her, so Jon wouldn’t move him away. 

“I understand the parameters of the game. It is unlikely to put me to sleep.” 

Jon smiled brightly and started the game. He’d told her something similar when she offered to get a kal-toh board from K’Tav.  He hadn’t known anything about it. It wasn’t anything he would have tried if he didn’t know her. Now, kal-toh games filled out his days. He wasn’t sure he completely got the game, but he could say he enjoyed it. Maybe she did too. 

He told himself he needed to stop reading emotions into everything she did. T’Pol was Vulcan. He was sure there was a logical explanation. Efficiency of the staff being impacted by the ambassador. It was hard when she was there just to keep him company. It was harder when she took the time to research something he liked.

The game was great. The teams were evenly matched. Just before the halftime buzzer sounded, a desperate serve sailed into the goal. Jon jumped to his feet cheering. If his third beer wasn’t so low, he would have spilled it. Then he remembered who he was with. T’Pol seemed unaffected. 

“Am I required to cheer with you?” She asked when she noticed his attention.

“No,” he relaxed a little more, “Just wanted to make sure I wasn’t too loud.”

“My research indicated that loud noises were traditional.” Her research, as always, was exceptional. Too soon, the game was over. T’Pol slipped from the room while he was putting bottles in the recycler. He rushed to the door after her. 

“T’Pol,” he called. She paused and turned to face him. “Thank you,” he told her without knowing what precisely he was thanking her for. The company. The beer. The research. She was still standing in the hall watching him, waiting for him to say something else. 

“Good night,” he told her. He wasn’t sure what to add, but she seemed to understand. 

“Good night, Ambassador.” She continued down the hall. He watched her walk away. 

When he returned to his Porthos had already moved to T’Pol’s spot. 

“We’ll see her tomorrow.” Jon promised his dog and himself before he went to sleep.

Chapter Text

“Can you keep a secret?” She asked Malcolm as she slid into the seat next to him. 

“I’m not sure the staff mess is the best place to tell one.” Malcolm replied with a barely visible smirk. He was barely more expressive than K’Tav, but he was right. Hoshi typed a note in her PADD and slid it across the table. PADD tracked sent messages, not keystrokes. This was the best way to have a private conversation even in a crowded room.

I saw T’Pol leaving Ambassador Archer’s quarters pretty late last night.

“Have any plans today? Travis and I are going to go through every record available on Terra Nova. He’s determined to be in one of the landing parties.” Keeping a conversation going was the best way to avoid drawing attention.

“Studying a bunch of transmissions sounds like a wonderful time.” Typing didn’t keep his voice from dripping with understated English sarcasm. 

That isn’t unusual. They spend a great deal of time together. 

“Don’t you want to find clues about the missing colony?”

“I’ll know exactly what happened when we arrive.”

He seemed a little drunk. I don’t think she was there for professional reasons. 

“It was the first human colony outside of our solar system.”

“I’m the first bodyguard serving the first auxiliary ambassador to Vulcan. There’s nothing special about me.” Malcolm was doing a bit better than she was at keeping both conversations going. 

“If nothing else, it’s an excuse to get off the ship. It wouldn’t hurt for the Auxiliary Ambassador’s bodyguard to familiarize himself with the lay of things.”

He may appreciate the company. He keeps  professional distance from his staff, but I don’t think he likes being alone.

“I’ll join you later. I’m going to spend some time in the gym.”

“The staff gym? Or the crew gym?” Hoshi tried to keep her voice neutral while she erased the text. She wished she could remove the implication from her brain as easily. Ambassador Archer wouldn’t do that… probably.

She’s part of his staff.

“When I asked about the crew’s gym, K’Tav gave a polite but firm no.”

“Did he say why?” 

“‘The human smell is difficult to get rid of.’”

She was assigned to his staff by the high command. Like K’Tav. An unexpected loophole. 

“He said that?” 

Malcolm smirked and nodded. His eyes were watching someone approaching the table. 

“Do we really smell that bad?” Hoshi mustered as much indignance as she could manage. Maybe a little too much. 

“Good Morning!” Travis slid into the table a bit late as always. Ambassador Archer must have just finished breakfast.

You should have seen how he looked at her. 

“Travis, do humans smell bad?”

“I have to agree with the Vulcans on this one.”

“What? Why?”

I can imagine. T’Pol is the first person he sees in the morning, and the last person he sees at night.

“One time the air recycler went out. My mom managed to keep the CO2 levels at healthy levels, but some of the other filters weren’t working for about a week. The human smell was strong and it took a few months to go away. You wouldn’t notice it in the higher traffic areas until you went into a cargo hold and came back, but…” Travis wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “If their sense of smell really is better, I don’t blame them for keeping the ambassadorial suite’s environment separate.”

“What were you guys talking about?” Travis glanced at the PADD Hoshi had just pushed backed to Malcolm.

How long has that been going on?

“How was breakfast?” Hoshi blurted a little too quickly. 

“It was fine. There isn’t really much to do. The Ambassador and T’Pol are pretty low maintenance.” Travis wasn’t fooled. 

“Hear anything about why we turned around?” Malcolm smoothly asked. That was more likely to be what they were trying to discuss. 

Since P’Jem. That made a bit of sense. During their night imprisoned, she had woken up shivering in the cold. Ambassador Archer and T’Pol were wrapped around each other sleeping peacefully. 

“Not really. They don’t really talk while I’m in there.”

“I’m meeting with K’Tav later, but he’s pretty good about controlling the conversation. I don’t think I’ll get any answers from him either.” She never got anything from K’Tav. He gave her exactly what he wanted, and nothing else. 

“I wonder why they're keeping it so quiet.” Malcolm muttered. 

“Some people think the answer is right in front of us.” Travis pointed his fork to the right before taking his next bite. Commander Tucker was trying to slip from the room unnoticed. He was wearing baggier clothes than usual and had a tray piled unusually high.

“Do you know what’s going on?” Hoshi had noticed Commander Tucker was around a lot less recently. 

“Only rumors. Some people think he caught a bug on the Xyrillian ship. Apparently, Tal’Kir is in quarantine. We can’t rendezvous with any other ships until K’Tav lifts it.”

“Hoshi invited me to help with your research later.” Malcolm changed the subject when someone passed close too their table.

“Yeah! I’ve been fascinated by Terra Nova since I was a kid. I think lost colonies affect boomers more than anyone else. Do you know much about it?” Travis didn’t have to fake his enthusiasm for their new topic. 

“No, but it could offer a tactical advantage to know more about the colony.” Malcolm looked back at his PADD. Travis made eye contact with Hoshi. 

“I’m headed to the gym.” Malcolm would help cover a conversation about potential misconduct without flinching, but he always had a way of escaping when normal human conversation was happening. “Hoshi. Travis.”

“He is coming for tactical reasons.” When Travis said it like that, it sounded bad.

“Malcolm has an eye for detail. He’ll be a lot of help.” Hoshi wanted him there, but that wasn’t the point. 

“I’m sure he’s coming to help, Hoshi.” Travis could see through her way to easily. It was time to pull a Malcolm and make a convenient  escape. 

“I need to get ready for my meeting with K’Tav. I’ll see you later.” Hoshi gathered her things, and scrambled out of the room. Did Travis know about her crush on Malcolm? Maybe. Malcolm didn’t. Probably. She was keeping things casual. It would be a little awkward to rush into something with someone she had to work with so closely. Right?

She was so distracted by Malcolm and Travis and T’Pol and Ambassador Archer that she almost missed one of the Vulcan crew use k’kan to describe Commander Tucker. She had to have heard wrong. Or there was more than one definition. There was no way Trip was pregnant. Was there?

She needed to tell Malcolm about this.

Chapter Text

K’Tav woke with his back in knots. The tension was not unusual. Discomfort had been his constant state since the ambassador and his staff boarded. The fingers that brushed his skin were not. He tensed. T’Para’s mind was reaching out. He breathed out and let her envelop him. Her hands moved across the pressure points on his back relieving the worst of strain that he was carrying. 

“Tense already?” T’Para’s voice still held traces of sleep as she worked. The question needed no answer. She could feel the muscles under her fingers and the discomfort in his mind. K’Tav took a sharp breath in when she started working the particularly tense flesh between his shoulder blades. Is something troubling Soval? She whispered in his mind. 

K’Tav breathed out deeply. It was so obvious when she called his attention to it. He focused inward and attempted to sort the feelings he was struggling to suppress. The most resilient ones were not his. As K’Tav distanced himself from the emotions that weren’t his own, he felt his limited control returning.

Sometimes you are so busy watching for distant threats that you forget those closest to you can hurt you. Even unintentionally. T’Para was right, of course. She very often was. What troubles him? She asked when she knew K’Tav had found the answer. 

T’Pol. She has been assigned to serve a man that hates him. 

This troubles you.

He knows I’ll protect her.

You cannot always be with her. In the embassy, she’ll be alone.

Alone. Last time she was alone, she was hurt deeply. K’Tav had little sense of what her assignment had been or what drove her decision to leave the Ministry of Defense for the Science Directorate. He regretted… T’Para again coaxed him back to the present.

The more composed of you is suffering extremely. It is no surprise you are feeling so unbalanced. Her assessment was charitable. He had been more than unbalanced in recent days. He felt her disagreement and rolled to face her. She relaxed into his touch as he caressed her cheek. 

How are you here? He finally asked the question that he should have asked yesterday when she found him on the bridge.

T’Pol made arrangements.

Why?

She was worried. She hoped I would be able to help. 

She doesn’t have authorization.

She must have used the ambassador’s clearance. That was the logical answer. Why the ambassador would allow T’Pol to make such arrangements was very nearly the last thing on K’Tav’s mind. T’Para was reaching for her delicate robe. She would go to the shower and the replicator and her tablet. K’Tav was not ready for the day to start. For the morning to end. He sat against the headboard and reach out to her.

You help most when you’re close.

“It is not logical to stay in bed all day.” She said sternly. When she looked over her shoulder, the corner or her mouth was turned up ever so slightly. 

“There is no logical reason to leave. I’m not needed on the bridge. You are away from your work.”

“K’Tav,” she scolded, but she was returning to him with a carefully restrained fondness. He pulled her into his lap. She pressed her forehead to his and his thoughts vanished. The hows and the whys and the whos were gone. He was with her fully in the moment. The breath they shared was their most pressing business. 

“You are my peace.” He whispered in her ear.

“You are your peace. I help you focus.” She was right. She always was. When she was there, it was easier to leave the past and the future and exist in the present. 

K’Tav nuzzled into her neck. His hands wandered her skin. Her mind was all he could hear. Her body was all he touched. Her carefully contained emotions were all he could feel. She was all that mattered. She was his question and his answer. She was his beginning and his end. 

Later she would pull him from bed to eat and bathe and speak. Later he would dress and escort her to the shuttle bay. Later he would watch her shuttle until it was out of sight. For now, his peace would be unbroken.

Chapter Text

After getting the news during an awkward dinner with Jon, he finally made the call to Earth. He had spent more than a week of thinkin’ and overthinkin.’ It hadn’t done him much good. None of that thinkin’ prepared him for his sister's smiling face to appear on screen.

“I’m pregnant.” He blurted out as soon as the connection was stable. Lizzie didn’t take him serious for a minute.

“Nuh-uh.” She laughed. “Charles Tucker,  you hadn’t mentioned anybody…” 

“It wasn’t exactly- I wasn’t quite - what I’m trying to say is - I didn’t know I had done anything that could have caused this…” Trip stood and pulled up his loose-fitting shirt. The bulge was the only thing in the viewer for a few minutes. When he sat back down, Lizzie’s eyes were wide, one of her hands was covering her mouth.

“Oh my god, Trip, what happened?” She believed him. She cared. There was none of the judgement he had expected.

“I don’t know exactly. I went to this ship. There was this female engineer. We spent a lot of time together - most of it working. We only touched a few times. I might’ve flirted a few times, but I don’t think I did anything to give her the idea-” He tried to explain, but she cut him off.

“You stop right there. Unless you explicitly told her you wanted to carry her baby, she had no right.”  Lizzie stared at him for a long minute daring him to disagree. He couldn't bring himself to. If the roles were reversed, he would be saying the same thing. 

“What happens now?” She asked. He hardly knew the answer to that, so he told her what had happened. 

“We’ve spent more than a week trying to find the ship again. See if they’d help us transfer the embryo. We found ‘em earlier today. The captain sent a message.” Trip paused. Saying the next bit out loud would make it real. “They didn’t answer, Lizzie. Jon says K’Tav might’ve pushed a little too hard, or they might be waiting a while to move away from the ship they were tailing.” Jon hadn’t really believed it. Now that Trip was saying it, it seemed silly to hope. “They ain’t come back. What am I gonna do, Lizzie?”

“You’ll come home.” She said like it was easy. In a way, it was. There was nowhere he wanted to be more. Home meant safety. It meant family. It also meant facing folks that had seen him grow up. It meant that everyone would know what happened. That was still too much.

“I can’t. I’ll have to stay in San Francisco. The docs at Starfleet will be the only ones that’ll be able to do anything…” It was an excuse - a damn good one. Lizzie wasn’t havin’ it.

“Then I’ll move to San Francisco. I can work just as well from there. We’ll get an apartment and I’ll help ya-”

“You don’t haveta-” He hadn’t called to uproot her life. He’d never want to take her freedom. 

“We’ll get through this together. You can’t do this alone, and I won’t let ya.” It was a promise, and she was stubborn enough to keep it. “Have ya told mama?”

“I don’t know how.” He admitted.

“I can.” She said like it was easy. Maybe it was. 

“Lizzie, I haveta...” But he wasn’t sure what he had to do anymore. Hope that they’d come back? Do this himself? Keep hopin’ he’d wake up one morning, and it was all a bad dream?

“We can wait a while, Trip, but I wouldn’t wanna have a baby without havin’ mama there.” She couldn’t just be tattlin.’ She had to have a damn good reason for everything. Made it impossible to stay mad at her.

“I’d never thought about it.” He admitted. Phlox still didn’t have a good idea of what delivery might look like. Now that he was thinking on it, he wasn’t sure he wanted to face it - in any form - alone. 

“When’s this baby coming?”

“Little over a month.” It was soon. It was too damn soon. He wasn’t ready for parenthood.

“What do ya need from me?” 

“I just needed somebody to know.” He had to fight back tears. It was a lot to carry. He had been doing it alone.

“Ya haven’t told Jon?”

“Yeah, but things have been a little…” It had been hard to want to talk to Jon about it. Jon had seemed to be on T’Pol’s side that first night. Phlox had too. No one had believed him. Well, no one except K’Tav, and he hadn’t known that until today. It had been easier to keep it to himself. Lizzie knew how long they’d been friends. She wasn’t gonna just let it go. Trip tried to give her a reason, “I’ve been messin’ up for a while, but I really messed up today, Lizzie. The ambassador’s aide physically got between me and the captain, and she wasn’t watchin’ me.”

“What’d’ya do?” That was a loaded question.

“I said some things I shouldn’t’ve. Heartless. Green blooded. Hypocritical.”

“I’m sure he’s heard worse.” Lizzie was right, but those weren’t the worst things he’d said. 

“I said he liked killing. That he wanted to start a war with Andoria.” Trip cleared his throat. He wasn’t proud of this. “Apparently, he fought in the last one. He congratulated Jon on how quick humans forgot what war does ‘fore he left.”

“Why’d ya say it?”

“He wasn’t willing to risk his ship to get back in touch with my baby’s momma. Said I had no way of knowing this wasn’t intentional.” K’Tav had said a few other things, but that was the one that stung. “He was right.” 

“Sounds like you owe him an apology.”

“Apparently Vulcans don’t accept apologies.”

“Says who?”

“Phlox.”

“How’d he know?”

“He’s worked with Vulcans for years.”

“K’Tav might not accept apologies, but Jon does.”

“I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“I’m sorry for bein’ an ass is a good start. He’s your friend, Trip. It’ll take more than a fallout with a Vulcan captain to change that.” Lizzie watched him for a minute. “I better let ya go. Ya look tired. I’ve heard pregnancy isn’t easy. Take care of yourself. Get some rest. Stay in touch. Love you.”

“Love you.”

“‘Bye,” Lizzie kissed her fingertips and waved. When the screen went dark, Trip was alone again in his room, but he felt less alone than he had in over a week. 

Chapter Text

Ambassadorial dinners were rarely dull, but tonight had been particularly entertaining. Commander Tucker had announced his impending parenthood. Hoshi had occupied the table with an analysis of Novan language. Now, Travis was enthusiastically quizzing T’Pol on other famous disappearances. T’Pol was less on guard with Travis than Commander Tucker. Probably because he enthusiastically shared his knowledge instead of mocking the gaps in hers.

The seating arrangement unfortunately had to be revised, so Malcolm couldn’t discreetly ask Hoshi if his guess was right. T’Pol was seated opposite to the ambassador tonight. Hoshi was in T’Pol’s normal spot. Travis was between Hoshi and T’Pol.  Malcolm was between T’Pol and Commander Tucker. The ambassador hadn’t formally told him anything, but Malcolm understood it was his job to keep anything from happening T’Pol. Commander Tucker had grown irrationally aggressive toward her since his… conception. It was bloody annoying, but Malcolm knew there was something he was missing. 

“Ever heard of Judge Crater?” Travis asked enthusiastically.

“Crater?” T’Pol hadn’t then. 

“Disappeared in the early twentieth century.” Travis paused thinking. “How about Amilia Earheart?”

“No.” T’Pol answered. 

“1937. Never found a trace of her.” Travis’s enthusiasm for missing persons was infectious. The whole table had quieted and was watching the exchange. “A lot of people spent years, decades, trying to figure out what happened to them. But neither of those mysteries hold a candle to Terra Nova. And we solved it!” 

“Did more than that. Those people were a year or two away from extinction. We didn’t just find them. We saved their lives.” Commander Tucker’s assessment was more than generous. Hoshi and Travis and Tal’Kir ’s science division had solved the mystery. The Ambassador and T’Pol had somehow convinced the Novans to accept medical care and relocate to the southern continent. He and Commander Tucker hadn’t done much of anything.

“All these years wondering about that colony,” Travis was still in awe. “I never thought I’d become a part of their history.”

“Tell ya what, Travis, why don’t you put together the report for Starfleet? If I’m not mistaken, it’ll be headline news back home.” Ambassador Archer offered. 

“The Terra Nova puzzle solved at last - Ensign Travis Mayweather.” Commander Tucker’s encouragement was hardly necessary. Travis was genuinely delighted to take on the extra work. If delegating the report gave Archer time to play kal-toh that night, it was incidental. 

“Thank you, sir.” Travis somehow managed to say through his enormous smile. It didn’t take much longer for dinner to draw to a close. If T’Pol stayed behind when the rest of them left, it was incidental. With as much time as he tried to spend with Hoshi, Malcolm was not in a position to lecture anyone on decorum.

Chapter Text

There were surprises with every new posting. The opportunity to serve as the chief medical officer aboard a Vulcan cruiser would be no different, but the captain - K’Tav - was quite the anomaly. Not that he had met the captain. His interviews for the position had been completed over video transmission. He had seen K’Tav at a distance a handful of times since coming aboard, but they had never conversed in person. With no metric for how “hands-on” Vulcan captains typically are with their crew, Phlox had assumed K’Tav’s behavior was normal.

Now he was significantly less sure. K’Tav’s medical records from the three decades were kept in an aggressive type of Vulcan shorthand that Phlox did not know where to begin to decipher. Every other file was thorough and accessible and clear. Since none of the other crew members had files kept in the same way, Phlox had to face the possibility that someone was trying to hide something in K’Tav’s medical history. Phlox could access K’Tav’s earlier medical history with no problem, but K’Tav was a mature Vulcan. There were nearly one hundred years of accessible records that needed review. There was no guarantee that whatever caused the secrecy would even be in those earlier records. 

Only one name ever appeared in K’Tav’s incomprehensible medical record, Lesh’Nef. With very little work, Phlox discovered that Lesh’Nef had been Tal’Kir ’s only chief medical officer in the twenty-five years the vessel had been under K’Tav’s command. Lesh’Nef had served with K’Tav five years before being assigned to the Tal’Kir. The sheer quantity of cranial scans conducted over the period gave him something of a direction, but it would take weeks to identify the purpose of those scans. None of the junior medical staff knew where to begin with the shorthand either. 

Phlox resolved to have K’Tav report for a physical as quickly as possible. The mystery could wait, but it would be completely irresponsible not to have a baseline for a crew member’s health especially when that crew member was the captain. Given his lack of familiarity with the captain, it was reasonable that he was a bit surprised by the sheer scale of the man. K’Tav measured every bit of two meters and still carried muscle that belied his years. 

Imposing or not, K’Tav was still a patient.

“Have a seat, Captain. A few quick scans, and you can return to the bridge.” Phlox’s warmth was meant with silent endurance of the non-invasive scans. 

K’Tav was a tacit patient. 

“Dermal irregularities. Would you mind removing your shirt for a moment, Captain?” Phlox tried to avoid projecting his own values onto other species. Even so, he would swear K’Tav was producing the closest approximation to a glare he had ever seen on a Vulcan’s face. In short order, it became clear why K’Tav might appear displeased. His chest was covered in irregular scar tissue. The skin raised and puckered like it hadn’t been properly tended to. 

“Plasma burns from Paan Mokar. I’m sure you can read the full report.” K’Tav explained with something near impatience. Phlox knew he had been injured at Paan Mokar. He was, however, unaware that K’Tav still bore the marks of the injury so prominently. 

“Even a century ago Vulcan technology was sufficiently advanced to prevent the large-scale development of scar tissue.”

“Unless severe plasma burns were being treated in an overwhelmed field hospital on a barely habitable moon. It is remarkable I lived.” That near glare was back, and it gave Phlox pause. Perhaps the injury was the root of the captain’s discontent. 

“The scar tissue is highly localized.”

“The Andorian was a good shot.”

“Does it cause you any discomfort?” Phlox had a distinct impression that K’Tav did not want to answer that question. 

“Some.” 

“There are several techniques that would allow me to graft healthy skin in the place of the scar tissue-”

“No, the recovery period is too long.” 

“A week. At most.”

“No.” K’Tav asserted. 

“With your permission, I will investigate other therapies. Something less intrusive may be able to restore elasticity to the skin without a long recovery period.” Phlox offered. 

“By all means,” K’Tav said in a way that made Phlox doubt the topic would ever be entertained again. Still, he clung to his bedside manner. 

“You are in remarkable condition for a Vulcan of your age. Your circulatory system is particularly impressive given the shocks it likely received when you developed those scars.

“Vulcan physiology is resilient.”

“Do you have any ongoing health concerns I should be aware of?”

“No.” K’Tav remained impassive, but Phlox got the distinct feeling that there was something he was withholding. 

“Well, I appreciate you coming in. Have a good day, Captain.”

“And you, Doctor.” 

K’Tav was an anomaly. 

Days later, Phlox was still working on decoding his file, interpreting the cranial scans, and finding a means of repairing a century-old scar with no recovery time. There had been no progress on any front. All of his attempts to contact Lesh’Nef had gone unanswered. The Vulcan brain was a highly complex organ exhausting the detailed scans could take weeks. It takes time to repair scar tissue.  Phlox entered sick bay feeling defeated. Phlox saw K’Tav inject himself with a hypospray. The Captain left the room before he could speak with them. Phlox urned to the junior medical officer on duty.

“Hie’iti, I am ordering you to tell me what was in that hypospray. K’Tav is a competent commander, but he is not a medical professional. Injecting himself with controlled substances could have catastrophic outcomes.”

“Sonambutril.”

“Why would K’Tav inject himself with a sedative? Even in small doses, Sonambutril will impair coordination, cognitive function…”

The young man refused to say anything else if he knew anything else. The Captain certainly wasn’t the most communicative patient. 

Phlox followed the Captain to his quarters - that is where the bridge indicated he would find the captain. Find the captain he didd. K’Tav was lounging in a large chair behind a desk drawing what appeared to be the blueprint of a building. The level of attention to detail and relative preservation of motor function showed that the Captain had known what he was doing when dosing himself. 

"Doctor," was all the acknowledgement K'Tav offered as he approached. Phlox flashed the light in each of his eyes. K’Tav grabbed his wrist and removed the offending hand from his face.

“While your reflexes are still impressive, they are slowed.” Phlox managed despite the painful grip biting into his arm. 

“A necessary sacrifice.” KTav said dismissively. The Captain released his hand and pushed him away in one motion.

“If you told me what symptoms you are attempting to mask, I may be able to develop a course of treatment that will be less debilitating.”

“We don’t have time.”

“Perhaps if I knew why you were dosing yourself with tranquilizers, I could find one that would provide the relief you need with fewer side effects.” 

“I will handle this myself.” K'Tav medicated calm was unsettling. Phlox decied to try a different approach.

“Captain, I am not denying that your course of treatment may be the most appropriate for the situation. I am asking to be allowed to supervise it.”

K'Tav looked up from his drawing for the first time since Phlox had entered the room. He accessed the doctor for a long moment. 

“My mesiofrontal cortex never recovered after Paan Mokar. I can’t suppress my emotions the way I should be able to.” K'Tav looked down but did not resume his sketch. Phlox felt the weight of the admission hang in the air. 

“I understand why you would have hesitated to confide in me. That type of disability could be debilitating and stigmatizing in Vulcan society. I am not a Vulcan physician. I do not have whatever stigmas prevent you from seeking treatment on your homeworld.”

“When my emotions are high and I leave them unchecked, they bleed into the minds of the crew.” K'tav still had not looked up. His pen had not resumed moving. 

“Sedating yourself is a method of dulling your emotional responses. You are attempting to protect the crew.” Phlox deduced. When there was not rebuttal, he continued, “How do you become aware that this projection is happening?”

“I am more sensitive to the emotions of those around me - even when they are repressed.”

“I’m certain that makes having a human diplomatic contingent aboard exhausting. Were you experiencing strong emotions earlier this morning?”

“Yes.”

“Oh?” Phlox asked.

“Those under my care were captured by Andorians because I respected protocols by not scanning the surface.”

The captured party was a reasonable source for such distress. With out more information, there was little Phlox could do to help.

“Lesh’Nef was researching your… condition wasn’t he?”

“He has made no progress.” K'Tav said dismissively. He pen made a single stroke. 

“I’ll explore the collection of sedatives at my disposal. There may be something that can offer the emotional dulling without impairing your cognition or coordination.” Phlox turned to leave. He needed to analyze the properties of each and contrast them. The drug study would be interesting, but he would have to stay on task. Lives were at stake. 

“No more questions?” K'Tav asked when Phlox was nearly to the door. K'Tav was looking at him again. This time with something approaching a Vulcan manifestation of confusion. 

“Not at the moment. Since the condition is being exacerbated by external stimuli, the most reasonable course of treatment at present involves retrieving that party on the surface as quickly as possible. I’ll leave you to your work. I’ll be in sickbay when your current dosage begins to wear off.”

K’Tav nodded and return to his sketch. Phlox left the room without waiting for an expression of gratitude. Vulcans don’t thank you for doing your job. But letting him do this job? It may have been the largest expression of confidence in his abilities anyone had ever awarded him.