Chapter Text
Captain Jonathan Archer sat in his quarters waiting, having summoned his first officer. He rubbed an agitated hand along his jaw. Better remember to shave before heading to the bridge. He could have waited to speak to T'pol in his ready room during her bridge shift but he wanted to get this converation over with before he lost his nerve.
When T'Pol arrived she was already in uniform, impeccably groomed and ready for the day. Archer wished he had taken the time to do the same. He offered her tea which refused, as she almost always did. Guess he couldn't make it well enough to measure up to even the mess hall. Unless she had already had breakfast.
He procrastinated bringing up his reason for asking her here; making small talk about routine ships business and sharing anecdotes from letters from home he knew she didn't care about. Finally he fell silent, trying to figure out how to approach the issue with the stoic woman who never acted the way he expected from the humans on the ship. If he was having this conversation with a human crew-member, it would be a lot easier. Still awkward as hell, but easier.
"I have to say, you are the last person i expected to be having a talk with about inappropriate fraternization," he finally said.
Her eyebrow lifted in query. He knew it was ridiculous to expect from a Vulcan and he should know better by now but he still kept looking for a physical reaction to shed some light on her suppressed emotions. A facial expression, a change in body language, something. Anything to give him a hint of what his mysterious first officer was thinking. He respected her culture, more than he ever thought he could before getting to know her, but he definitely preferred being able to read people. Was she confused? Angry? Defiant? Merely curious? There was a lot to be said for emotional expression.
"I was looking for Trip last night for clarification about his latest brilliant idea." Jon elaborated "He wasn't in his quarters, or Engineering, or the mess hall. No insomniac workout in the gym. I even stopped by Sickbay, since Trip seems to be in there at least once a week. Finally had to have the computer run a bio-scan to locate him. In your quarters. At 0230."
His expression was stony by intent. Starfleet didn't teach captains that look but they really should. It was very effective. Usually.
T'pol's expression was dispassionate by nature. She did not respond. A human would have felt the need to respond by now, defensive or apologetic. Naturally she did not feel such a need.
"It seemed a little late for a disciplinary meeting or i might have stopped by to have this conversation last night." He stood and paced the few steps his quarters allowed, hands clasped behind his back. He turned around again and faced her, his expression inviting explanation.
That damn eyebrow again. Her tone was as flat and measured as always.
"If you had, you would have found Commander Tucker unconscious on my meditation mat where he fell asleep during a neuropressure therapy session, while I reviewed routine ship status reports at my desk. "
"At 2 in the morning?" Archer asked.
"Vulcan sleep requirements-"
"That's not what i meant." He interrupted her, entirely unsurprised to learn the sub-commander was a night owl, or that Vulcans could go days without sleep if necessary. "Isn't that kind of late for physical therapy?"
"I prefer to schedule our neuropressure sessions for earlier in the evening so I may utilize the time after for meditation and recreational reading. Unfortunately, Mister Tucker continues to resist the recommendations of Doctor Phlox to reduce his workload. Working 12 hour shifts exacerbates the Commander's insomnia, making the pressure therapy even more essential for his health. So it must be scheduled for whenever Mister Tucker deigns to make himself available."
"At 2 in the morning?" Jon was starting to repeat himself.
"At that time the commander had been asleep for nearly an hour. In similar situations in the past I have woken him to return to his quarters. However, the doctor has been particularly concerned lately about Commander Tucker's disordered sleep, stressing the importance of him getting whatever rest he can manage."
"On your floor?"
She raised sculpted brow in that emotionless way. It was a reaction, he knew that much. She always raised that eyebrow in situations that might call for certain emotional responses: amusement, bemusement, annoyance, outright anger. And Archer wouldn't be able to guess which one until she spoke.
"I had wondered if the doctor was being overprotective to an emotional degree. The commander is not the only crew-member who works long shifts. But if the chief engineer is so essential as to be sought at 0230, its little wonder his duties are preventing healthy sleep patterns." Her words were spoken neutrally but her look was pointed.
Archer's ears pinked slightly at her censure, sheepish. He hadn't even thought twice about looking for Trip during the ship's dark hours. The captain was often up this late, making him a poor role model for good sleep choices. He and Trip had always been a lot alike, so Jon had just assumed the engineer would be awake and interested in talking warp theory at 2am. Jon had forgotten all about the chats Phlox had made sure to have with him about the difficulties in getting the wayward engineer to take care of himself. The captain had taken the doctors concerns seriously and promised to be extra attentive to Trip's health. Then promptly forgot to do so.
Archer shied away from the reminder that his best friend was running himself ragged to keep Jon's ship flying smoothly between the stars. And the captain himself was directly contributing to the problem and the workload Trip labored under. Not only did Trip keep the humanity's first Warp 5 engine humming so they could explore the galaxy, but he kept pulling miracle solutions out of his hat to save the ship from one catastrophe or another. And Archer expected no less from the genius engineer. It was a lot of pressure to put on one man, Jon realized with chagrin.
But dealing with that kind of guilt was going to have to wait until morning, after a few hours of sleep and a cup of coffee.
To deflect the guilt and her censure, he shifted the focus to her.
"So you just sat there doing busy work?" He asked. She answered with a nod "Why not take the time to meditate? Or get some sleep yourself?"
This time her lifted eyebrow was a lot easier to decipher.
"The commander's snoring is quite distracting," she said.