Timeline: E2 was the last episode I saw, so 's shortly after that.
Disclaimer: They're not mine, but they play better at my house than Bermaga's.
Fate Redirected
What must be shall be; and that which is a necessity to him that struggles, is little more than choice to him that is willing. --Seneca
Part 1
"I'm going to tell you this for the last time: my...'love' life...is not open for discussion. Do. I. Make. My. Self. Clear?"
Archer stared Phlox down, willing him to get the hint, which had actually come out as more of an order...applied with a clue-by-four. He briefly wondered exactly how thick Denobulan skulls were in comparison to human skulls. Strangely enough it didn't cross his mind that Phlox was wondering the same thing about human skulls. Or at least he would have been had he been familiar with the colloquialism...not to mention that the scanner he was holding displayed said measurement.
"Captain, if you continue to bury your..."
"I said no!" Time for Plan B: Archer turned on his heel and stalked out of sickbay. As yet it was the only way he had found of ending a conversation with Phlox when he became fixated on a topic Archer didn't want to discuss. Unfortunately at that moment, the topic happened to be his love life, or more accurately: his lack of said love life. And his chief engineer's proclivity for having a love life with anything in a skirt...or a form-fitting Vulcan uniform apparently.
It was bad enough that it occupied his thoughts at the most inopportune moments ever since they ran into their descendents...ancestors...no, descendents from the future...past Enterprise... his head hurt. That had been the reason for his trip to Sickbay, but he had suddenly decided (somewhere around the time Phlox had pinpointed the reason for his headache to be Lorian...and all that his existence implied) that he'd rather have the headache than the conversation with Phlox. He was already starting to regret his hasty exit from Sickbay as the throbbing in his skull intensified.
He passed several crew members on his way through the corridors but they all gave him a wide berth. It wasn't until the third crewman actually moved to farthest side of the corridor to pass him that he realised that he'd been glaring intensely at anyone and everyone he passed. He took a deep breath and tried to compose a less angry visage as he continued on his way to his quarters. Well, almost believable he thought to himself as he passed another crewman who nodded to him in passing. At least he's not hugging the opposite wall to get past me, Archer thought ruefully.
Upon entering his quarters he flopped down on the bed. It felt like a phaser was burning him between the eyes at regular intervals. He turned onto his side hoping the headache would abate. No such luck, if anything it intensified. He tried laying on his other side, but the result was the same. Sighing, he sat up on the bed. "Porthos, come here boy!" The diminutive dog perked up his ears and jumped on the bed, eager for some attention from his preoccupied master after the scary past few days.
Petting his dog, he tried to sort through the past few days and absorb all the information and its' implications. His mind kept returning to Lorian. He'd resigned himself to not pursuing anything with T'Pol, burying his attraction to her along with every other emotion he'd had to bury in the Expanse. It had just never occurred to him that someone else on the ship would end up with her. If he'd had any idea that she would be open to a relationship with a human under any circumstances, well, he would have done things differently. Will do things differently? How far had Trip and T'Pol's relationship progressed in this timeline? Was there such a thing as fate or predetermination? Or was the future what you made of it?
Even after having travelled through Time a number of times he didn't have the answer to those questions. And he wasn't going to come up with them with this damn headache. He winced as the throbbing in his skull made it difficult to concentrate. A glance at the chronometer on the wall told him what he already suspected: several hours had passed and his headache was still as intense as when he had left Sickbay...time to bite the bullet.
Reluctantly he retraced his earlier route to Sickbay. Maybe Phlox would be preoccupied feeding his creatures and give him the hypospray and spare the lecture. Unlikely. Maybe if one of his creatures "accidentally" got loose? Stop it, he told himself. You're not staging a jail break to distract Phlox.
Entering sickbay he looked around for Phlox but didn't see him. He was about to call out when he became aware of a low murmer of voices behind one of the privacy curtains around one of the biobeds. He made his way towards the voices intending to let his presence be known when he recognized the other voice: T'Pol. He'd had the impression that it was her voice, but had dismissed the notion because the voice he heard had too much emotion in it. As he had gotten closer he realized that it was indeed T'Pol, but she did sound emotional.
He froze in his tracks, considering the paradox and debating on a course of action: make his presence known or...no, he told himself, dismissing the possibility of eavesdropping. He'd already crossed too many ethical lines in the Expanse, he wasn't going to cross any that he didn't need to. Tamping down his curiousity as to what they could be discussing that would cause her to sound so emotional, he called out for his chief medical officer.
Phlox peered out from behind the privacy curtain. "Aaah, Captain. Back so soon?" The Denobulan asked with his trademark grin, cheerfully ignoring Archer's baleful stare. "I'll be with you in just a moment" He promised, ducking back behind the curtain to finish his conversation with T'Pol. After a few minutes, Phlox pulled the privacy curtain back and emerged to deal with his next patient. Archer could see T'Pol slide off the biobed and head past him towards the door, he nodded at her but she barely looked at him and seemed anxious to get out of Sickbay as soon as possible. He watched her go, puzzled by her demeanor and thinking that lately she always seemed anxious to escape his company unless she was on duty.
"I expect to see you back here in 24 hours," Phlox called out after her.
"I have duties to attend to," was her answer.
"T'Pol," Phlox said disapprovingly.
"24 hours," T'Pol repeated, her downcast eyes avoiding Archer's questioning glance as the Sickbay doors closed behind her, leaving Phlox with only one recalcitrant patient instead of two.
"What was that all about?" Archer demanded of Phlox, his headache preventing him from even attempting to be diplomatic.
"Doctor/Patient confidentiality Captain, I shouldn't need to remind you of that" Phlox admonished.
"That doesn't apply if it's affecting her ability to carry out her duties" Archer spit, suprising both of them with his sudden venom, frustration getting the better of him after weeks of little sleep and overwhelming stress. He didn't like being kept in the dark, especially not about one of his senior officers. Especially T'Pol. They'd kept her Pa'Nar from him under the guise of 'Doctor/Patient' confidentiality and he hadn't forgotten about it.
"Have you noticed a problem with T'Pol's work?" Phlox asked casually. Too casually, Archer thought eyeing him suspiciously.
"Everyone's been under stress," he replied lamely, not sure anymore that that was the explanation for T'Pol's recent emotional behaviour.
"Yes, you especially. I assume you've come back for your painkiller?" Phlox said, redirecting the conversation before he said something ill-advised about T'Pol. He was still uncomfortable with her being on duty while she went through Trellium-D withdrawal, but they needed all the crew members on duty that they could get with the 18 that they had lost in the last few days. He still thought that the Captain should be aware of her condition, but he was bound by confidentiality until she demonstrated that she was unfit for duty. Unfortunately, the Captain hadn't given him the opening he was looking for.
"Yes, but just the painkiller, I can do without the psychoanalysis," he said, giving the medical officer a pointed look.
"Very well, but the headache will return unless you deal with the issues causing it," Phlox lectured, as he applied the hypospray to the Captain's neck.
"Yeh, well when I have a minute between trying to save my home planet and keeping the ship from falling apart, I'll give some consideration to my 'love' life," Archer said tiredly, not even bothering to muster any anger for his parting shot as he slipped off of the biobed and out the Sickbay doors.
"Anytime Captain, my door is always open as they say," Phlox called out after him. He saw Archer stop in midstride before thinking better of any retort he was about to make and resume his escape down the corridor as the Sickbay doors slid close.
Phlox went about cleaning up the mess of the last few days and replacing supplies as he muttered about the stubborness of Humans and Vulcans and the repressed emotions of both species.
/to be continued
Disclaimer: They're not mine, but they play better at my house than Bermaga's.
Fate Redirected
What must be shall be; and that which is a necessity to him that struggles, is little more than choice to him that is willing. --Seneca
Part 1
"I'm going to tell you this for the last time: my...'love' life...is not open for discussion. Do. I. Make. My. Self. Clear?"
Archer stared Phlox down, willing him to get the hint, which had actually come out as more of an order...applied with a clue-by-four. He briefly wondered exactly how thick Denobulan skulls were in comparison to human skulls. Strangely enough it didn't cross his mind that Phlox was wondering the same thing about human skulls. Or at least he would have been had he been familiar with the colloquialism...not to mention that the scanner he was holding displayed said measurement.
"Captain, if you continue to bury your..."
"I said no!" Time for Plan B: Archer turned on his heel and stalked out of sickbay. As yet it was the only way he had found of ending a conversation with Phlox when he became fixated on a topic Archer didn't want to discuss. Unfortunately at that moment, the topic happened to be his love life, or more accurately: his lack of said love life. And his chief engineer's proclivity for having a love life with anything in a skirt...or a form-fitting Vulcan uniform apparently.
It was bad enough that it occupied his thoughts at the most inopportune moments ever since they ran into their descendents...ancestors...no, descendents from the future...past Enterprise... his head hurt. That had been the reason for his trip to Sickbay, but he had suddenly decided (somewhere around the time Phlox had pinpointed the reason for his headache to be Lorian...and all that his existence implied) that he'd rather have the headache than the conversation with Phlox. He was already starting to regret his hasty exit from Sickbay as the throbbing in his skull intensified.
He passed several crew members on his way through the corridors but they all gave him a wide berth. It wasn't until the third crewman actually moved to farthest side of the corridor to pass him that he realised that he'd been glaring intensely at anyone and everyone he passed. He took a deep breath and tried to compose a less angry visage as he continued on his way to his quarters. Well, almost believable he thought to himself as he passed another crewman who nodded to him in passing. At least he's not hugging the opposite wall to get past me, Archer thought ruefully.
Upon entering his quarters he flopped down on the bed. It felt like a phaser was burning him between the eyes at regular intervals. He turned onto his side hoping the headache would abate. No such luck, if anything it intensified. He tried laying on his other side, but the result was the same. Sighing, he sat up on the bed. "Porthos, come here boy!" The diminutive dog perked up his ears and jumped on the bed, eager for some attention from his preoccupied master after the scary past few days.
Petting his dog, he tried to sort through the past few days and absorb all the information and its' implications. His mind kept returning to Lorian. He'd resigned himself to not pursuing anything with T'Pol, burying his attraction to her along with every other emotion he'd had to bury in the Expanse. It had just never occurred to him that someone else on the ship would end up with her. If he'd had any idea that she would be open to a relationship with a human under any circumstances, well, he would have done things differently. Will do things differently? How far had Trip and T'Pol's relationship progressed in this timeline? Was there such a thing as fate or predetermination? Or was the future what you made of it?
Even after having travelled through Time a number of times he didn't have the answer to those questions. And he wasn't going to come up with them with this damn headache. He winced as the throbbing in his skull made it difficult to concentrate. A glance at the chronometer on the wall told him what he already suspected: several hours had passed and his headache was still as intense as when he had left Sickbay...time to bite the bullet.
Reluctantly he retraced his earlier route to Sickbay. Maybe Phlox would be preoccupied feeding his creatures and give him the hypospray and spare the lecture. Unlikely. Maybe if one of his creatures "accidentally" got loose? Stop it, he told himself. You're not staging a jail break to distract Phlox.
Entering sickbay he looked around for Phlox but didn't see him. He was about to call out when he became aware of a low murmer of voices behind one of the privacy curtains around one of the biobeds. He made his way towards the voices intending to let his presence be known when he recognized the other voice: T'Pol. He'd had the impression that it was her voice, but had dismissed the notion because the voice he heard had too much emotion in it. As he had gotten closer he realized that it was indeed T'Pol, but she did sound emotional.
He froze in his tracks, considering the paradox and debating on a course of action: make his presence known or...no, he told himself, dismissing the possibility of eavesdropping. He'd already crossed too many ethical lines in the Expanse, he wasn't going to cross any that he didn't need to. Tamping down his curiousity as to what they could be discussing that would cause her to sound so emotional, he called out for his chief medical officer.
Phlox peered out from behind the privacy curtain. "Aaah, Captain. Back so soon?" The Denobulan asked with his trademark grin, cheerfully ignoring Archer's baleful stare. "I'll be with you in just a moment" He promised, ducking back behind the curtain to finish his conversation with T'Pol. After a few minutes, Phlox pulled the privacy curtain back and emerged to deal with his next patient. Archer could see T'Pol slide off the biobed and head past him towards the door, he nodded at her but she barely looked at him and seemed anxious to get out of Sickbay as soon as possible. He watched her go, puzzled by her demeanor and thinking that lately she always seemed anxious to escape his company unless she was on duty.
"I expect to see you back here in 24 hours," Phlox called out after her.
"I have duties to attend to," was her answer.
"T'Pol," Phlox said disapprovingly.
"24 hours," T'Pol repeated, her downcast eyes avoiding Archer's questioning glance as the Sickbay doors closed behind her, leaving Phlox with only one recalcitrant patient instead of two.
"What was that all about?" Archer demanded of Phlox, his headache preventing him from even attempting to be diplomatic.
"Doctor/Patient confidentiality Captain, I shouldn't need to remind you of that" Phlox admonished.
"That doesn't apply if it's affecting her ability to carry out her duties" Archer spit, suprising both of them with his sudden venom, frustration getting the better of him after weeks of little sleep and overwhelming stress. He didn't like being kept in the dark, especially not about one of his senior officers. Especially T'Pol. They'd kept her Pa'Nar from him under the guise of 'Doctor/Patient' confidentiality and he hadn't forgotten about it.
"Have you noticed a problem with T'Pol's work?" Phlox asked casually. Too casually, Archer thought eyeing him suspiciously.
"Everyone's been under stress," he replied lamely, not sure anymore that that was the explanation for T'Pol's recent emotional behaviour.
"Yes, you especially. I assume you've come back for your painkiller?" Phlox said, redirecting the conversation before he said something ill-advised about T'Pol. He was still uncomfortable with her being on duty while she went through Trellium-D withdrawal, but they needed all the crew members on duty that they could get with the 18 that they had lost in the last few days. He still thought that the Captain should be aware of her condition, but he was bound by confidentiality until she demonstrated that she was unfit for duty. Unfortunately, the Captain hadn't given him the opening he was looking for.
"Yes, but just the painkiller, I can do without the psychoanalysis," he said, giving the medical officer a pointed look.
"Very well, but the headache will return unless you deal with the issues causing it," Phlox lectured, as he applied the hypospray to the Captain's neck.
"Yeh, well when I have a minute between trying to save my home planet and keeping the ship from falling apart, I'll give some consideration to my 'love' life," Archer said tiredly, not even bothering to muster any anger for his parting shot as he slipped off of the biobed and out the Sickbay doors.
"Anytime Captain, my door is always open as they say," Phlox called out after him. He saw Archer stop in midstride before thinking better of any retort he was about to make and resume his escape down the corridor as the Sickbay doors slid close.
Phlox went about cleaning up the mess of the last few days and replacing supplies as he muttered about the stubborness of Humans and Vulcans and the repressed emotions of both species.
/to be continued