Many thanks to EntAllat for wielding the red pen. The insight received made my fledgling idea a much richer story.

Disclaimer: Star Trek: Enterprise and its characters are copyright CBS/Paramount. No copyright infringement is intended by the authors of this site, which is solely for the purpose of entertainment and is not for profit.

The events of the episode Extinction happen exactly as played out on the screen. But what would happen if there was one additional scene we weren't shown. A time when Archer and Sato are alone… what happens then? And what happens next?

Day 264

Hoshi laid her hand against the side of the incubator. The blue glow of the synthetic amniotic fluid bathed her anxious face as she sat peering in. Was he developing as he should? Was everything all right? The time was fast approaching when the little one would be ready, and then he would be gone. How am I going to handle this? Sighing, her head sank until her forehead rested against the side of the incubator, the rest of sickbay quietly beeping and burbling in the gamma shift hush. Tears formed and she started to cry.

Captain Jonathan Archer sat on his bed, leaning back against the bulkhead, a water polo ball in his hand. Restlessly he threw the ball against the opposing bulkhead and caught it on the rebound. Again and again he did this, but the repetitive rhythm did nothing to stem the tidal wave of conflicting emotions that washed over him. It had been like this every evening since the whole ordeal had started. He wondered if it would ever get any better.

Phlox sat back with a sigh. He had gone over and over the read-outs and reports. Technically, his fellow crewmembers were fine and would never suffer any side effects from their unusual transformation. At least they weren't going to suffer any physical side effects. As to their emotional states, he could only guess.

T'Pol handled everything that had happened with her usual aplomb. She would be fine. Lieutenant Reed had been rattled by his transformation and near death experience although he had tried hard to hide it. Phlox had already treated him on a number of occasions for sleeplessness and tension headaches, but the doctor knew that, eventually, the armory officer would make his peace with the experience. It was the captain and the communications officer Phlox was most worried about. How they would recover from this ongoing experience he could only guess.

Day 2

Phlox had waited until Captain Archer had dealt with the alien race bent on exterminating the Loque'eque. It was only then, once Enterprise was safe, that the captain would be able to focus on the news Phlox had for him.

"But I'm feeling fine and almost done transforming back," the captain had started to say as he strode back into sickbay, the doors whooshing closed behind him.

"Yes, I am well aware of that, captain. There was something else I wanted to speak with you about," Phlox answered as he gestured to a figure on the bed.

Ensign Sato lay there, sedated, still fully Loque'eque. The captain looked startled. "Why haven't you given her the antidote? Is something wrong?" he asked, concern spreading across his face.

Phlox paused as he locked the doors for privacy, then spoke. "Perhaps you'd better sit down."

Captain Archer had been quiet, then upset, then remorseful as Phlox had explained the situation. Of course Jon remembered the event in question, but the antidote had made him feel detached from those memories, almost as if they had happened to someone else. He hadn't really had the time, once he returned to Enterprise, to think about his actions on the surface; he had had to stave off an attack from the alien extermination team. But now, as he sat there staring at the creature that was Hoshi, he had nothing but time. Why did it have to happen like this? What should I do? What would she want me to do?

Phlox had given him several options. One was unthinkable; another would condemn Hoshi to staying as she was now for at least a year, and by that point the antidote might not work. She might never recover. The last option was risky, but then Hoshi would at least be herself again.

Jon sat by Hoshi's side long into the night, agonizing and debating. He knew that none of the options were good. He knew what he wanted, and it wasn't possible to turn back time, or alter reality. It was a matter of choosing the least of the evils and trying to figure out what Hoshi would want him to do.

Coming to a decision, he asked Phlox to perform the surgery and then give Hoshi the antidote. Jon knew he would have to deal with the repercussions for a long time to come; repercussions from Starfleet, from Hoshi, and from himself.

Day 3

Back in his Ready Room, Archer spoke with Admiral Forrest and laid out the entire situation and his decision. He waited for the backlash, but was surprised when Forrest simply said he'd talk to the powers that be and then signed off. Jon tried to get his mind focused on something else. He knew he'd have a wait on this.

When all was said and done, Jon was shocked. Where he had expected a reprimand, he had received praise for his thinking. Where he was expecting obstacles, he received help. Jon never found out whom it was that was going to make everything happen, but he was grateful. Admiral Forrest had gotten back to him rather quickly with startling news. Starfleet was not only going support his decision, but make a home for the new little one.

Archer wasn't sure how they'd wrangled this with Earth's human rights organizations, but the order had indicated Starfleet had asked for volunteers from a newly formed world prison in New Zealand to colonize the planet of Loque'eque, as Loque'eque. He had been surprised at the number of inmates that had stepped forward to live their lives as an alien species versus serving out their sentences as humans: once their colony ship reached orbit around the planet they would be exposed to the live virus and become Loque'eque. The little one, his and Hoshi's child, would be adopted by a couple there.

Their human genes had allowed them to do what the original Loque'eque could not.

Reproduce.

Day 100

He had tried to talk to her about what had happened. He had been trying for months, but short of ordering her to talk to him, Hoshi made a point of never being alone with him. Every time he saw her off duty she was with someone. Travis was her workout partner, T'Pol sat next to her at movie nights, and every meal was eaten with Phlox, Cutler, or Malcolm.

It was the last person that bothered him the most. Shortly after the surgery Jon had tracked Hoshi down in the mess hall late one night. He had been trying to talk to her for a week with no success. Why had she turned to him and not me? The memory made his stomach knot.

Day 8

The doors to the mess hall whooshed open. It was quiet and dim, serving hours were long over. Jon walked in and headed over to the table in the corner. T'Pol had mentioned that she had seen Hoshi in there earlier. Hoshi was still here, but she wasn't alone. Hoshi and Malcolm were deep in a hushed conversation. He could hear the pain in Hoshi's voice, the consolation in Malcolm's.

He slowed his stride, hesitant to start any conversation about what had happened in front of anyone, especially Malcolm.

Since their shared experiences on the planet, Jon had been aware of Malcolm's feelings for Hoshi. He was wondering why Malcolm was making a play for her now, but he couldn't hold those feelings against the man. After all, Jon had felt something for Hoshi for years. He just wished Malcolm would stop being so damn solicitous to Hoshi. Maybe then, Jon would have a chance of speaking to her.

Despite his own feelings of jealousy, he could understand how his tactical officer would fall for someone as full of life as Hoshi was. At least, she had been, until the Loque'eque. She still wasn't fully recovered, none of them were. They were all still suffering from after-effects of being Loque'eque, both physical and mental. All of them still had an extreme sense of smell, all of them still felt raw from being part of a dying race. But Jon knew that wasn't the entirety of what troubled Hoshi.

It wasn't until the recent incident that he himself had sat down and started to really examine his feelings and actions. He hadn't just wanted the best linguist on the planet for his communications officer, he had wanted her. It had simply been convenient that they were one and the same. He had justified it then, but no longer. He needed to tell her this, and many other things, if she would only let him.

He stopped at the side of the table. He could sense her sorrow, her denial, her attraction. He understood the first two things he smelled, but not the last. Who was she attracted to, him or Malcolm? His own despair cut into him, sliding like an icy knife.

"Hoshi?" Jon's voice was low and pleading.

She turned away, swiping at her eyes. Anger rolled off of her in waves, almost knocking him over in their intensity.

Anger at me? At herself? At the cruel twist of events? He couldn't decide. Smell was only taking him so far in this conversation.

He stepped forward, putting a hand on her shoulder. "We need to talk."

Standing, she shook it off and walked to the bulkhead, staring out the port hole.

When he moved again to go to her, Malcolm was out of his chair and in his way in a heartbeat. Well, there had been a reason for offering the tactical position to him.

Inhaling deeply and searching for some patience, Jon could sense the man's fear and determination, but also a sense of protection.

"Malcolm, this doesn't concern you." Jon said.

Malcolm didn't move. "No, it doesn't."

Jon moved to go around him and was blocked again by the smaller man. Despite what Jon was sensing through his still heightened sense of smell, his eyes were seeing Malcolm radiated the deadly calm he was known for; the calm before an attack.

"I think you'd better leave…sir."

Steely blue eyes met green in a test of wills. Jon decided now was not the time to pull rank on either of them. It would do him no good. He didn't want to throw Malcolm in the brig for insubordination. That would draw too much attention to a situation he was already trying to keep quiet. He knew Hoshi well enough to know that even under orders she wouldn't talk unless she wanted to.

"When you're ready, I'd like to talk," he said over Malcolm's shoulder and then turned to go. He kept his back straight until the doors behind him closed. It was only then that he allowed his façade to fade for a moment, disappointment and hurt on his face.

Day 15

After another week of playing "cat and mouse" with each other while off duty, Archer was more frustrated than he had ever been. He called T'Pol into his ready room.

"Has Hoshi said anything to you?" he asked.

T'Pol stood before his desk, hands clasped behind her. She shifted her weight before she answered.

"Yes, she has said many things to me during the shift today. Did you not hear us speaking?"

Jon exhaled forcefully, frustrated, and came to his feet. "No, I mean, has she said anything to you about the…the incident down on the planet."

T'Pol regarded him with large, serene eyes. "Have you talked to her yourself?"

"Yes, I've tried and tried again. She won't talk to me. Not about the planet, not about what happened, not about…not about the baby. Nothing." Jon turned to look out the porthole.

"Will talking about it improve the situation?"

"We're human. Maybe Vulcans can keep all this bottled up, but not us. I know she's upset. I'm upset. We need to talk."

T'Pol stepped forward and stood beside him. "Perhaps there is simply nothing to say?"

When he turned to look at her, he caught the barest whiff of pity from her. It startled him. Apparently he was still Loque'eque enough to sense more than T'Pol was sharing.

He bowed his head, "But we have a…and we…" he trailed off into silence. Pulling himself back together, he looked at her. "T'Pol, this is a situation when humans would absolutely need to talk."

"Perhaps you should go see Dr. Phlox. He is a good listener. Or take some time for a strenuous workout in the gym. I know that this always seems to help Commander Tucker when he is… emotional."

Jon sighed; he knew that T'Pol was trying to help. He also knew that any solution short of hashing this out with Hoshi would be futile.

"Thanks T'Pol. Dismissed."

The Vulcan inclined her head in a brief nod, her eyes conveying all that her face would not.

Jon turned to look back out the porthole. In the reflection he saw T'Pol turn to go. She paused on the threshold.

"Have you considered she may have moved past this experience and is continuing on with her life?" she said softly and walked out the door.

After the incident in the mess hall and T'Pol's advice, Jon resigned himself to the status quo. He and Hoshi never spoke about what had happened between them down there, nor about the growing child in sickbay. She continued to perform her duties as if the whole mission had never happened, but he could tell that it was bothering her. He had known her too long to not see that her veneer wasn't perfect. But nevertheless, he stopped trying to engage her in conversation she didn't want; he didn't want to upset her further. It wasn't important how he felt. He'd deal with it.

Day 30

He visited the baby every night, timing his visits after her's. The first time he had actually run into her coming around the corner. He had reached out to steady her, and she had jerked away, as if burned by his touch. After seeing how upset she had been it had just seemed like a better idea not to be seen. She already didn't speak to him outside of her shift. It was clear she didn't even want to be around him.

While he was there he would sit for hours, talking to it… to him… to Seth, long into the night. Jon couldn't help but name the baby, if only in his mind.

Day 250

One night Trip had come to his door, a bottle and two glasses in hand.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Trip asked.

At this point Jon really didn't want to, but he knew he still needed to get it all off his chest. It was starting to affect his work. Inviting Trip in, they sat in companionable silence for a long time, as shot after shot went down his throat. If he was going to drink to make the emotions stop, he might as well go whole hog.

Finally Jon broke the silence. "Did you know that the Loque'eque communicate not only through clicks but also through scent?" he asked Trip rhetorically.

Trip merely nodded.

"I remember how everything smelled, so vivid and bright. Everything was so alive. It was like I was waking up after a long sleep to a beautiful sunrise," Jon said and poured himself another shot.

Leaning back in his chair, he held the glass up to the light. "I remember that T'Pol smelled like cinnamon, warm, and inviting…like coming into someone's home in the autumn when they've been baking a pie. But I could also tell she was afraid," Jon smiled and took a sip of his shot. "Imagine, T'Pol being afraid of anything."

Trip remained silent, allowing Jon to muse on.

"When Hoshi came beside me I could smell her, jasmine, verbena, and something else I couldn't identify… and the smell was so intoxicating… so overwhelming…it was almost like I could read her mind and knew her entire history right there in the scent of her. I could smell…" Jon trailed off and smiled sadly into his glass.

He downed the rest of his shot and tried to pour himself another, sloshing the pale amber liquid onto his hand, missing the glass completely.

Trip gently took the bottle from him and poured them both another drink.

Jon nodded his thanks, leaning back against the chair back. They drank again in silence.

"Did you know that Malcolm wants her?" he asked suddenly.

"Who? T'Pol?"

"No, Hoshi."

Trip's eyebrows went up.

"That's right. I could smell it on him, the desire, almost animal lust, and I remember wanting to rip him limb from limb."

"Why?"

Jon slammed his empty glass down. "Because she is MINE… was mine…there was that time in Brazil when I thought…" his head was bowed. "I've always looked at her like that… but it would be inappropriate…Starfleet would never allow…I never thought that she would think of me like that." his voice becoming softer and softer. "But then when we were Loque'eque, and I could smell her emotions…her thoughts… and she could smell what I felt, what I was thinking…"

He tapped his glass with an outstretched finger and Trip poured another shot for him.

"When we found the city and were in hiding…we were down there for a long time. Things just happened…I never intended to follow through with what I discovered while on the surface, but things…just happened. I was so elated… she felt for me as I did for her…and now… the baby… she's so upset…she's never gonna forgive me…I should've been stronger…she won't even talk to me… she's always with Malcolm…"

Jon swirled his drink in the glass contemplating. He looked up and spoke again, repeating himself, his words slightly slurred, but a look of clarity on his face.

"And now… with everything that has happened… she won't talk to me… but she talks to him…why?" Jon asked.

Trip didn't answer.

"You talk to Malcolm…what's he after? Is he trying to take advantage of her… with how she's feeling?" Jon demanded.

Trip swallowed before replying. "I'm sure it's nothing like that. They were sociable before this happened."

"I know… but they're always eating dinner together now… he's even gotten her to laugh! You know Malcolm couldn't tell a joke to save his life! Why isn't she turning to me? I want to be there for her…I'd like her to be here for…never mind…I'm the captain…I'm not supposed to need…" Jon downed the rest of his shot and threw it against the opposite bulkhead, angry at himself, at her lack of response to him, at the entire situation.

Trip had flinched, but said nothing.

Jon inhaled and regained control of himself, then reached for Trip's still full glass.

Trip's hand tightened around it, trying to cut him off. "I think you've had enough."

Jon reached for the bottle, a shot or two still lingering inside it. Trip shrugged.

"In for a penny… in for a pound…" Jon muttered, before downing the rest of the alcohol. He set the bottle back down with exaggerated care.

"And now I have a son…I had always dreamt that someday, when we were both done with Starfleet, maybe Hoshi would… and we…but not like this…and now…now…"

Jon trailed off, his eyes slowly closing as he gave in to the exhaustion that came from carrying this emotional burden for so long. Trip gently took the bottle and remaining glass from the table.

"You're gonna have one hell of a hangover," Trip murmured.

Jon felt a blanket being put over his shoulders but his eyes were too heavy to open. His thoughts were growing even more sluggish. All he could think about was Hoshi sitting with Malcolm and laughing. The echoes of her laughter followed him into his dreams to torment him for the rest of the night.

Day 364

Hoshi and Jon had both been present at the baby's birth. Phlox had removed the infant from the warm amniotic fluid in the artificial womb and expected the child to start to cry as most did. This one did not. Even when Phlox had suctioned the remaining fluid from the baby's lungs and swatted him to get him breathing, he was silent. It was slightly unnerving. Phlox had handed the solemn, blinking infant to Hoshi wrapped snuggly in a blanket. The baby's nostrils flared, taking in the scent of her. She curled her arms protectively around the bundle and started to click, speaking softly in the language of the Loque'eque. Phlox cleaned up from the procedure and left to give them privacy.

"I didn't know you remembered how to speak Loque'eque," Archer murmured in the hush of sickbay. It was one of the few times they had been alone since this had begun. It was the first time they had spoken about anything not purely professional in months.

"How could I ever forget?" she whispered back, her eyes still glued to the alien baby in her arms.

"Could you teach me to say a few words to our son?" he asked her.

Hoshi's eyes snapped to him, wide, tears forming. She nodded once, and then went back to ignoring everything but the baby.

At that one nod the knot in his stomach that had been there for many months, the fear, the anguish, the guilt, loosened slightly. Moving in closer to her, his hand crept to her back as he gazed at the child in her arms. She didn't move away. The knot loosened a bit more and for a moment he felt peace.

Day 366

They had rendezvoused with the new colonists at the site of the destroyed city Urquat, now well on its way to being reconstructed and livable. Captain Archer and Ensign Sato along with T'Pol and Lieutenant Reed were the only ones to come down to the planet, all having been inoculated from the virus and now immune.

Malcolm and T'Pol hung back to give Jon and Hoshi some much needed privacy as the two parents walked forward to hand the baby over. Hoshi was carrying the bundle and whispering rapidly to it, telling it all the things she wanted to convey before she handed her child over to a new life, knowing that he would remember none of it, but needing to tell him just the same. Jon walked by her side, grim and silent. A waiting couple stood at the entrance of the cave system.

Hoshi stopped before them, kissed the infant once on the forehead, and then handed the baby to Jon. Turning, she walked off, tears starting to form, her hand pressed to her mouth holding back a sob, a broken heart apparent on her face.

He held the infant close in his arms and bent over it to kiss its forehead as well, breathing in the smell of his child for the last time. In Loque'eque, as Hoshi had taught him, he whispered, "I love you," and then handed his child to the strangers.

Walking away was the hardest thing he had ever done. He knew he was leaving a part of himself behind. More than anything he wanted to stay and be the father for his child. But he knew his duty, to Starfleet, to Enterprise, and to Hoshi. She needed him, whether she would admit it or not. He couldn't be there for their child, but he could be there for her. Maybe someday they could move past this, both alone, and together. Maybe someday something more could be between them. He clung to this hope. It was the only thing he could do.

The end.