Every child has fantasies about what they want to grow up to be. Few children grow up to be exactly whom they thought they would be. Jonathan Archer was different.

His first memories were of his mother reciting poetry and children's stories to him. The scent of his mother's perfume. His mother and father's faces. All ordinary things a person might remember. The event that began the dream for his future he didn't remember consciously when he reached adulthood.

One night he woke up and pulled himself up in his crib to stand. Through the window in his nursery he saw stars and a sliver of crescent moon. He stared at the sky for a long time. Longer than he'd ever paid attention to anything that wasn't another person or a toy. His legs gave out and he flopped back down to the crib mattress. He wailed non-stop until his mother came to soothe him. Not because he had fallen, but because he couldn't see the stars anymore.

Years passed. Henry showed his son the stars in the night sky. Stars were paired with names and clustered in constellations. He gave his son his first astronomy book. Later he showed Jonathan how to use a telescope. The boy would spend hours at night looking at the stars. He told anyone who would listen that he would be a part of the Warp 5 project one day.

Meanwhile, Henry continued to work on his warp engine. Jonathan loved to hear about it. Someday that engine would power a ship. They both would fly to the stars together with it.

All his fantasies seemed possible to him at the time. He would become a Captain, then an Admiral one day - if they had ranks that went above that of Boomer vessels. Dad would be beside him every step of the way.

Every dream has obstacles to attaining it. Dreams did come true, but sometimes they don't turn out the way you expect. Jonathan started to realize that when his father started loosing more and more of himself. Distancing himself from what happened each day didn't work. Each time his father forgot who his son was. Each time the disease cause his father's personality to warp and he lashed out at his child and wife. Each time the pain racked his body. It hurt to watch and it hurt to listen.

When the end finally came, Jonathan felt guilty that a part of him sighed in relief that it was finally over. Part of his dream died with his father.

What remained became a mission. A calling that he could not ignore. Nothing else really mattered. Few people came into his life to be his friends in high school and later in college. There was so much to do and learn to accomplish his dream. He couldn't let down Dad. He couldn't let down himself. He wouldn't allow the Vulcans or anyone else to stop him from achieving his goal.

After high school, he entered college at Princeton. A model student, he excelled in his classes and the only break from studying he allowed himself was water polo - except for dating. Occasionally a girl came along who made him smile and want to live a life more ordinary. They never stayed in his life for long. Who would want to become the mistress in his relationship with his goal?

Jonathan knew he had to be the best to be considered by the United Earth Space Probe Agency for flight school. He was well on his way when he graduated with honors.

When he hefted his diploma in his had, he felt like he'd made the next step on his path. Looking up to the sky, he silently told his father what he'd done. Tears shined in his eyes and he wished his father lived to see that day.

Jonathan searched the crowd and found his mother sitting nine rows back. He smiled and waved at her as he walked down.

Two weeks later he shifted in his cramped seat. A voice over the intercom of the airplane thanked the passengers for flying on the transatlantic flight to the Congo. The trip would only take three hours.

Jonathan watched San Francisco become smaller and smaller until the plane rose above the clouds. He didn't know if he'd return to San Francisco or any of North America ever again. His attention turned back to the padd in his hand. All the information was in order. Now he only needed to sign his name on the line and send the application off. The cargo ship Orion had a place for him. He only needed to finalize the paperwork.

He thought back to the events of the past few weeks…

"Are you happy Jon?" Sally Archer asked examining her son's face. Her green eyes were lie detectors. She'd know if he told the truth.

Jonathan set his cup of coffee down. He wondered why she'd ask such a thing. Their first dinner after his graduation proceeded with the usual conversation and his hopeful talk of the future until she asked this simple question. Why did she ask such a thing? Of course he was happy. Why wouldn't he be? He would be applying to flight school in the fall. Everything was going according to plan.

"I am, mom," he said with confidence and a smile.

She sipped her coffee with cream and sugar setting it down with a clink on the small glass table. Her smile crinkled her eyes. "I'm glad you are Jon. I'm so proud of you." She looked back down at her hands. A couple walked out of the bistro and passed their table laughing. Her smile faded. "I want you to know, I'd be proud of you no matter what you do in life"

Jonathan leaned forward, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Sally sighed and sagged into her chair. "I know you want to see Henry's engine fly. If that doesn't happen, or if you decide to do something else, I will support you in whatever you persue."

Jonathan reached over the table and took her hands. "Why are you talking like this Mom? Are you worried that Dad's dream won't happen? It will. I'll make sure it does."

"I know you will. You love your father and his dream. But is it your dream too, Jon? Or are you doing this to please him?"

Jonathan dropped her hands and looked at her with eyes full of anger and hurt.

"How can you say that? It wasn't just his dream. I thought it was our dream as a family. Now you're talking like you don't care anymore."

"No Jon. I do care about it. But I will always care about you more. If you change your mind or if you fail…"

"I won't fail," he said with the overconfidence of youth, "and I won't change my mind. This is what I want mom."

She smiled, a too perfect smile that she wore to hide her sadness from him.

The next time he saw her she lay in a walnut box.

He swallowed and wiped the tears from his eyes. Aneurysm. Fast, painless. The night before she went to sleep and didn't wake up the next morning.

Jonathan reached over and picked up a small bag from the side table. Lavender silk gathered at the top by a drawstring closure.

The funeral home offered to do this, but he knew they'd do it all wrong. Her hair would end up fixed in a style she'd never worn and her makeup too light or too flashy.

He took his time. Brushing each strand of her silver streaked hair into place. Memories came to him of watching the brush glide through her blond hair as he zoomed past her dressing table pushing his toy spacecraft along the wood floor.

Jonathan closed his eyes trying to remember how she put on her makeup. The reflection in the mirror of her dressing table smiled at him. She said something about being good to his babysitter. They had these talks almost every time when she and Henry went for a night out.

Her lips moved asking him about his day. Foundation smoothed across her skin with a small sponge. Dust shook off the brush she used to stroke powder over her skin. It caught in the shafts of light from the windows dancing. As a kid he called it her fairy dust. Blush came next. It too danced in the light. Then a subtle smear of color enhanced her eyes. Lipstick always came last. Two swipes and blot the excess on her handkerchief.

The handkerchief he stuffed back in his pocket. He stood back and looked over his handiwork. At any moment she looked like she might open her eyes and tell him he knew warp theory but he couldn't put on makeup. He'd shrug his shoulders and tell her it was the best he could do, and she'd say that was good enough for her.

He blinked back the tears. He made quick work of fastening her favorite pair of pearl earrings to her ears. The matching necklace draped around her neck. A single rose, a peace rose from her favorite rose bush, he pinned to the collar of her blouse. She looked simple, beautiful, and elegant. Just like she always had been.

T'Pol spoke up from beside him, "You did well." Her hand came to rest on his right shoulder. He didn't hear or feel her.

Aunt Ellie entered the room and walked through T'Pol. She wrapped her arm around his back and hugged him to her side. She told him Sally looked beautiful. They cried together. Jonathan had made sure she was dressed up in her finest clothes. She was ready now to take Henry's hand. Then they'd head out the door together one last time.

After all the relatives and friends were gone, he finally stood on the wraparound porch of the two story sky blue house his parents moved to near the Redwood forests of California. From the front of the house he could see the grassy front yard gradually turn to sand until it reached the Pacific Ocean.

Jonathan thought back to his last conversation in person with his mom. He was so sure about his answer then but now things didn't seem so clear. Was he living his father's dream, his father's life?

He started making arrangements the next day. He settled things with his mother's estate, and began to look at other options for his future. He knew he needed to get away from the house full of memories and think. His destination didn't matter.

Rich in culture and history, Africa's Congo attracted tourists from on and off world. Jonathan went through the motions of a tourist vacation. Museums and historical sites were usually on his list of things to see. This time they couldn't hold his interest. He decided to go on a safari.

On the next to the last day of the safari he witnessed a gazelle giving birth. The baby gazelle stood up and began to walk on its legs and ran a short time later. Nothing ever came that easy for him or for humanity. Most of the things you wanted in life you had to work hard to get. The easy way could be appealing compared to the uphill climb to get what you really want.

That night he lay on a blanket looking up at the stars. He realized he was following his dream. His father didn't create the dream of Jonathan one-day exploring space. That was his dream alone. A cargo ship would take him to the stars, but he wouldn't be able to do much exploration. He would need his father's dream, the Warp 5 engine, to truly explore what was out there.

ooooooooo

She mediated each night before preparing for bed. It still didn't stop the dreams. She would wake in the hours before sunrise, when black sky began to turn to gray. Her eyes would stare out at their home and she would remember everything she dreamed of the night before.

This morning, she remembered lying on a blanket, long strands of brittle grass cushioning the ground beneath the blanket. Next to her lay Jonathan. She could hear his thoughts, feel his feelings, and touch what he touched, and see through his eyes. It was disorientating to be him yet be outside of him in these dreams.

Living his memories left her feeling drained some mornings. Her arms and legs sunk heavy into her soft sheets. The urge of to close her eyes and fall back asleep tempted her those mornings with the promise of another hour of sleep. The rest of the day she'd walk around her senses muffled. Days like that would clump together. When she had one she knew at least another would follow.

She told herself it was just the link between her and Jonathan. Eventually, when it faded away, this would too. The same excuse worked for the other symptoms she was having - the ones she hadn't managed to ignore.

Thankfully she awoke to the other type of day this morning. On the days she didn't feel sapped of energy, she felt fine. She had energy to expend. Her emotions leaned away from the negative and she felt almost content.

Without the struggle between her and the urge to cocoon herself in her covers, her morning routine passed by smoothly. Neatly tucking the sheets back in place, she then folded the Murphy bed back up into the cabinet in their living room. Morning exercise of stretching and Vulcan martial arts started her blood pumping. A flick of her long-handled lighter and her meditation candle lit spreading wisps of smoke into the air. She sat in the lotus position on the floor contemplating the flame, preparing herself for the emotions of another day.

T'Pol was not a good cook, but she didn't have to be. The protein resequencer did most of the work, and chef's instructions did the rest. Jonathan insisted on helping out with the noon and evening meals. Breakfast she preferred to make alone before he woke.

Jonathan snored in the other room. Emotions drifted to her occasionally over their link. He was having a pleasant dream. What did he dream of? Did he dream of her life like she did of him? She turned her attention away from speculation and back to making breakfast.

Fruit and oatmeal was breakfast today. While cutting up the fruit she'd resequenced, she looked out one of the portholes about the kitchen counter at the cleared plot of land next to their home. Soon construction would begin on a wind trap that would catch moisture and transfer it to a cistern dug deep into the ground for storage. It would be one of many spread throughout the colony. With it would come a construction team, and the possibility of close encounters with colonists who may or may not like her.

Sitting down with her breakfast she ate and thought while watching the world outside slowly saturate with color and light. Sunrays were beginning to peak over the horizon. This was her time of day. The time when she planned her day. The time before she broke the news once again to Jonathan.

The only being who shared this time with her was Porthos. He vacated his doggie bed and scampered in the room lured by the scent of breakfast. Sitting at her feet, he patiently begged for scraps. T'Pol slipped him a piece of the cheese she kept in the stasis unit especially for him.

Alien flavors mingled in her mouth. Strawberries, cantaloupes, and apples created a harmony of flavors. They tasted different than Jonathan's memories of the same fruit due to her Vulcan taste buds. T'Pol wondered how the pla-savas, a navy blue fruit with a subtle sweet aftertaste, would taste to Jonathan.

Ambassador Soval didn't bother to have Vulcan food dishes erased from the protein sequencers he provided the humans. T'Pol was thankful he didn't. She'd been craving tastes of home lately. Everyday she made Vulcan dishes for her. She enjoyed watching Jonathans reactions while they sat at the bar eating and talking. Some of his facial expressions were amusing to witness.

Bringing a slice of strawberry to her mouth, she bit in. Despite having scattered memories of another life for several months, T'Pol paused when she remembered what a strawberry tasted like from Jonathan's perspective. She thought of the link again. She made a promise to herself that she would see Dr. Phlox in a week if her condition did not change. Before then she would have to think of how to tell him the full truth about her link with Jonathan.

ooooooooooo

No off-worlder had ever climbed Mount Selaya. An exception was made for Jonathan Archer. T'Les and the figure shrouded in darkness by the hood of a bulky white robe talked in hushed Vulcan then they were allowed to pass. All the necessary arrangements had been made in advance. Jonathan passed the robed person who stood like a statue guarding the only route up the mountain.

"Thank you," Jonathan said in Vulcan to the person.

No response or movement came from the still form. The intense light of Epsilon Eridani reflected off the ancient Vulcan script on the closure of the robe. Jonathan walked on by and began to climb the steps hand carved into the rock of the mountain.

Two hours later.

"I need to rest for a moment," Jonathan called out.

T'Pol walked down the steps to his side and looked over his body and face. She motioned him to sit on a nearby rock. T'Les as usual watched on with curiosity and a hint of disapproval.

"You can still turn back and wait at the base of the mountain," T'Pol suggested.

"I'll be fine. I've climbed mountains before." He took a swig of his water pouch. Sliding his backpack off his shoulders, he searched for the med kit and slowly loaded it with tri-ox compound. The injection gave his body the extra oxygen it needed.

"You climbed mountains on Earth," she corrected.

Jonathan put his right hand on her shoulder to reassure her. "I'll be fine T'Pol. I've come this far. I can't leave you now." He weakly smiled as he wiped sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. "Besides, I haven't had a workout this good in a long time."

The torture of the climb lasted five more hours. T'Pol and T'Les rounded a bend ahead of him and continued walking like they hadn't seen the sight before them. Jonathan stood in awe looking at the massive natural archway rising up from the mountain to support a cliff that jutted out from the mouth of a cavern. On the cliff stood carved pillars, slabs, and other hand chiseled structures that gave off the aura of ancient rites and rituals preformed there for thousands of years.

Their destination was the cavern. A group of seven robed figures silently greeted them at the entrance. The one in front pushed his hood back to reveal his silver cap of hair, wrinkled face that betrayed his advanced age, and piercing black eyes. He raised his hand in the V of the Vulcan greeting. T'Pol and T'Les mirrored his gesture. Jonathan did as well showing the practice he'd had during his stay on Vulcan.

T'Les and T'Pol both spoke briefly with the man. He bowed and raised his hood to cover his head again.

T'Pol walked over to Jonathan. "I must go with them to prepare," she said as if that explained everything.

"Prepare for what?"

"I do not know," she calmly admitted.

"So you're going to let them do whatever they want to you?"

"Yes. The adepts of Mt. Selaya have studied the Vulcan mind for thousands of years," she added for his benefit, "It would be illogical for them to intentionally harm me."

"It sounds like you know more about this that I do. I just wanted to know that you understand what's going on. When will I see you again?"

"I do not know. Quarters will be arranged for you." T'Pol looked back at the hooded figures as if they called to her. "I should leave now."

She looked into his eyes silently communicating the things she could not say. When she turned to go, Jonathan gently grabbed her hand stopping her.

His voice was soft speaking to her in the way he reserved only for her, "Please ask them if I can see you each morning to explain what you don't remember. I don't want you to have to go through the confusion of not knowing."

He dropped her hand and reached up to push back a stray hair from her forehead. "Be careful. I'll see you soon."

Her hand cupped his and guided it down. She squeezed his hand and looked into his eyes. Warmth traveled up his arm and reached his face breaking out into a smile.

"I will." Her fingers slid over his and left his hand hanging in the air.

ooooooooo

"Beautiful," Jonathan gasped.

The flashlight in his hand illuminated the painting on the wall of the monastery. The art in the ancient kingdom of Guge amazed him. The artists created paintings and architecture that could rival any in the world. He smiled and looked over at Margaret Mullen standing beside him. He silently thanked her again for bringing him to Tibet with her. The voice of their tour guide told them they needed to move along. A group of flashlight beams disappeared into the next room. They followed hand in hand.

One year earlier.

He never expected to meet the girl he'd want to marry in flight school. Sure, he'd met some girls. The types that want to have a drink and a dance with you at a club, and later they might want to get under your flight jacket. He usually didn't let it get that far. When he did, he was sometimes disappointed. Most of those encounters didn't last longer than a night, even if he wanted them to.

Who was he kidding? He didn't have time for a relationship to last longer than that. Learning to be a pilot wasn't easy work. And he hadn't expected so much studying to be involved. So when he was going up against other flight groups in flight competitions, romance was the last thing on his mind.

The first time he saw her she was boarding shuttlepod. She warned him she could out fly him any day. He smiled and said he'd like to see her try. She did out fly him that day. She shook his hand afterwards and smiled complementing him on his piloting skills. Jonathan loved her smile.

A few weeks later she walked up to him in the mess hall and asked him out. Seven hours later he rang her doorbell. She stepped out of her apartment in a black halter dress. Her long brown hair was gathered up on her head loosely. His hands itched to free it. Her brown eyes and red lips smiled at him. When he opened the ground car door for her, he smelled the jasmine in her hair and imported Asian perfume scenting her neck.

He was amazed that a woman like her would find him interesting at all. But she leaned in over the table fascinated during their dates listening to him tell her about Zefram Cochrane, Emory Erickson, and other people he met from the Warp 5 project.

Her stories seemed more interesting to him. She loved space and wanted to fly a starship one day. She received her pilot's license at age 9. She flew from San Francisco to New York City at 15. Piloting ran through her veins. Jonathan went to flight school as a kid, but he didn't accomplish as much with his license as she did.

Jonathan didn't expect their relationship to last long. Lately, his relationships had that trend in common. Each milestone amazed him. Their first kiss, picnic, and the weekend spent hiking, canoeing, and sharing a tent together followed in quick succession.

Three months into the relationship she said the one thing he'd never heard before, "I think you should come meet my parents."

She looked at him scared by him not answering immediately. He abandoned the skillet on the stove and wrapped his arms around her pulling her to him. "Okay. When do you want me to come see them?" He held her and they talked until the omelet he'd been cooking started to burn.

Meeting the parents wasn't as bad as he thought it would be. Mrs. Mullen wore her dark brown hair short unlike her daughter. Her Filipino heritage showed in her beauty. Jonathan got the distinct impression she was suspicious of him. Maybe she was just being protective of her daughter, or maybe it was her investigative reporter gene thinking there had to be more to him than just a pilot.

Mr. Mullen was a chef and a pilot by hobby. He spoke with an accent that Jonathan couldn't place until the man began talking about the numerous European countries he grew up in. They hit it off better than Mrs. Mullen and he did.

After leaving full of lumpia, pansit, adobo, and hospitality, he waited to hear how he'd done from Margaret. "They like you." she said as she smiled and hugged him close for kissed him. Their silent observer watched nearby. She turned away as they kissed.

Spring break was a month away and graduation three months away when she broached another question.

"Good morning," she said handing him a cup of coffee.

He blinked and groggily replied, "Good morning."

She adjusted her silk robe and sat beside him on her bed. Jonathan sat up in bed and sipped his coffee. A puddle of red sheet formed around his waist. Margaret leaned over and adjusted his hair. Jonathan caught her hand and pulled it to his lips. His coffee and hers were sat on the side table before he kissed down her neck and untied her robe with the ease of familiarity. Margaret moaned his name as he quickly made her forget the question she'd woke him up to ask.

Later that day, while he helped her make empanadas, she remembered her question. She asked him while stirring the mixture soy-meat, onions, potatoes, and spices in the skillet.

"Jonathan, I want to go on a pilgrimage."

"Oh," he replied. He stopped rolling the sweetened dough, and looked to his right to see her face. His face was expressionless but his mind was trying to anticipate what she meant. Was she coming back? Would she want to still be with him when she returned?

She smiled at him. "I want you to come with me."

He dusted the flour from his hands. "Where?"

"Ngari, Tibet has one of the oldest surviving Buddhist temples in the world. My mother traveled there when she was about my age. I've heard so much about the Guge kingdom and the temples. I want to go there, but I don't want to go alone."

"I'll go with you."

Jonathan felt like they'd reached another milestone. They were going on a long vacation together. He thought about how much he enjoyed the time he spent with Margaret. Not just their lovemaking, but having her as a companion. She enjoyed his company too. They practically lived in each other's apartments. The question of marriage hadn't come up yet. Flight school kept them both busy, and Jonathan thought he was lucky enough to have her, why tempt fate? Now she'd ask him to come with him on a journey spiritually important to her. She wouldn't ask just anyone to come with her. She trusted him and loved him. Jonathan began to consider tempting fate.

Tibet was simply beautiful. Tourists and pilgrims alike came to enjoy its physical and spiritual beauty. The Tibetan New Year was approaching. Prayer flags were draped on the overhangs of buildings and at sacred sites. The flags symbolized the elements, blue for sky, white for clouds, red for fire, green for water, and yellow for earth. The mythical wind horse decorated them. The horse carried the prayers on the wind up to the heavens.

Prayer wheels almost as tall as him dominated one side of the temple Margaret and he stood outside of. People who passed by the wheels turned them and said, "Om mani padme ham."

"They are saying a mantra. The same one that is written on the prayer wheels. The mani stones pilled around the stupa also have the mantra painted on them," Margaret explained.

She looked over him briefly like he was an outsider for asking her what it meant. He noticed lately that she had that reaction to him when he asked questions about Buddhism. So he started asking fewer questions. He thought they'd gotten past this early on in their relationship. He wasn't Buddhist and didn't go with her to meditation services or to temple. But he respected her beliefs because they were an important part of her life. Margaret seemed to accept that difference between them until they came to Tibet and it became more apparent. That was the only bad thing about their trip. Otherwise it was an experience he would surely remember for the rest of his life.

Things between the two of them returned to normal back in San Francisco. The night before his graduation from flight school, they went out to dinner to celebrate. He took her to a small café they both enjoyed on Market Street. The night was cool and mist hung in the air. The stars were coming out and twinkling. Everything seemed right and perfect. Inside his pants pocket, a velvet box bounced up and down in time with his steps.

"Aren't you coming up?" Margaret asked as he stopped at the steps leading up to her building.

"Margaret. There's something I want to ask you." She unconsciously stepped down to the bottom step.

Jonathan fished the box from his pocket and bent down on one knee. "Margaret. I love you. When I started thinking about graduation, I realized how much I love you and that I don't want what we have to end after I graduate. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?"

T'Pol watched the memory aware of her own emotions. His love for Margaret was plain on his face. She desired what they had - a relationship free of the constraints that came with words like caretaker and friend.

"Jon. I -" she broke off. Jonathan's smile faded as her expression changed. No smile, no happiness, no tears, just sadness in her eyes.

"I can't," she managed.

"Why? Why can't you?" The box in his hand felt heavy. He dropped his hand down and stood up, holding it loosely.

"I thought you understood, Jon. What we have is great, but we can't get married and have kids like normal people. We're both joining Starfleet. We'll be married to our jobs, and we won't have time for each other. I can't be a Starfleet widow, Jon. And I wouldn't want you to be married to an absent wife either."

"We could work it out. We could serve together on the same ship."

"Be realistic Jon. Starfleet doesn't allow fraternization. We wouldn't be allowed to serve on the same ship. We'd be away from each other for months or years at a time."

She wouldn't ask him to give up Starfleet for her. And he would never ask her to either. They couldn't change who they were. He hadn't been blind to the biggest obstacle between them. He thought they could some way, somehow be together.

He pleaded with her, "There has to be a way."

"I'm sorry Jon," she cupped his cheek. Tears were sparkling in her eyes. "We couldn't survive it. If you think about, you'll see it's true."

"I'm sorry too," he whispered as he pulled away from her hand and walked down the sidewalk to his ground car. He heard her call after him but he didn't turn around. He was hurt that she rejected him. And he was angry, but not at her, at the truth.

ooooooooo

Jonathan's smile widened when he saw both of T'Les' eyebrows stuck at the top of her forehead. He knew his relationship with T'Pol continued to be an enigma to her. Before either of them could say anything, they were guided through the catacombs in Mt. Selaya connecting the network of natural and man made chambers extending for miles into the mountain.

The catacombs reminded him of those he'd seen at P'Jem. A pair of adepts guided them through tunnel after tunnel and seven chambers. Along the way they also passed openings to small sparse rooms where the adepts lived. Most of the chambers and tunnels were formed in ancient times by magma hollowing through the mountain on its way to the surface.

Niches were caved into the drab rusty orange walls of the chambers. Relics and statues were displayed inside. Candles were the only light in the tunnels and chambers. Candlelight flickered from tall and short pillars mounted on candelabras, perched in tiny niches, or arranged simply in other ways. Tears of melted wax cascaded down their sides.

Nearly thirty minutes after they entered the mountain, T'Les and Jonathan were deposited in a small chamber and instructed to wait. An hour passed before the waiting ending.

A hooded figure entered the chamber. T'Les arose from her lotus position on the floor and moved to greet their visitor. Jonathan stood up from the rock he was resting on and hesitantly stood five steps behind her. The person pulled back the hood of their adept's robe.

T'Les looked over the wild, flowing hair of the middle-aged Vulcan and immediately recognized him. He raised his hand in the Vulcan greeting. T'Les and Archer both returned the gesture.

"Syrran." She stepped forward until she stood closer to him than Jonathan had ever seen her stand to anyone.

"T'Les," his stoic voice gave no indication of their relationship.

"I didn't know you would come," T'Les admitted.

"Your daughter may need the knowledge of Surak to find a cure. Coming here was only logical."

Jonathan felt like they were unaware that he was there. He silently watched them.

"You put yourself and the future of Vulcan at risk by coming here."

"It is a risk I am willing to take." T'Les nodded her understanding and shared a long look with Syrran.

T'Les broke gazes with him and looked over at Jonathan.

"Syrran, this is Captain Jonathan Archer of the Starship Enterprise."

Syrran looked him over. His eyes showed none of the attitude of looking down on human that he'd become accustomed to from most Vulcan except T'Pol.

"You are the captain that T'Pol serves under?" he asked.

"Yes." Jonathan prepared to verbally defend himself.

"Why are you here?"

"T'Pol needs me," he said confidently.

"No, she does not. Her mother could take care of her needs."

"T'Pol allowed me to come here. She said I could stay. So, I'm staying here for her," he silently added whether you like it or not.

Syrran looked from Jonathan to T'Les and back. "I understand your reasoning," he turned to T'Les and told her, "I will find T'Pol and see if I can do anything for her. Wait here until I return."

Jonathan sighed and sat back on the rock. If he wasn't exhausted, he would pace. Waiting not knowing what was happening to T'Pol was going to be hard to do.

"Could you please tell me what that was all about?"

T'Les looked from the tunnel which Syrran disappeared into over to Jonathan. "It would take some time to explain."

"Time is one thing we have plenty of right now."

T'Les sat down in lotus position on the cave floor and considered his request.

ooooooooo

"Margaret Mullen. You met her when you were 24 years old, during flight school in San Francisco. The night before you graduated, you asked her to marry you outside of her apartment on Westgate Avenue. She turned you down. She said she didn't want to become a Starfleet widow."

He stopped pacing around the room and turned to her listening dumbfounded as she told him of Margaret. "How the hell did you know that?"

"Our relationship has evolved over time." It was the truth. The connection between them and their relationship had evolved.

"If that's the case, I could understand me telling you about Margaret, but why would I tell you she lived on Westgate Avenue? Why would I tell you such an insignificant detail?"

T'Pol didn't know how to respond she hesitated, "I don't know."

He was in her face now looking in her eyes, searching for answers. Confusion hung on the air between them. "You're lying. T'Pol would never lie to me. Who are you? A Suliban?"

"I didn't lie. You didn't have to tell me. I saw it in a dream."

"You expect me to believe that?" He started backing away from her. She knew he was planning a way to escape thinking this might be a holographic room.

T'Pol shifted in her seat forging ahead into uncovered territory, "Several months have passed since our shuttle crashed in the desert. With limited water we manage to survive until search parties found us," she purposely left out some of the details. How long they were there, why their shuttle crashed, and how she kept him alive when they ran out of water. "You slipped into unconsciousness in route to a water source. You regained consciousness for a short time after drinking water. Then your organs began to fail…" she swallowed. Her eyes were glassy with moisture, "I knew of only one way to extend your life."

Jonathan knelt in front of her. Her story had lured him slowly back to her side as he began to believe her. He whispered, not knowing if he wanted to know the answer, "What way?"

"You already know that Vulcans are telepathic. We are touch telepaths."

"That explains why you don't like to be touched."

"Yes. In ancient times, Vulcans used their telepathy regularly. Sensing emotions of others around them and participating in mindmelds. Most telepathic activities are now restricted by the Vulcan High Command."

Jonathan remembered talking to the pigheaded Vulcan doctors who tried to have T'Pol removed from Enterprise because of her Pa'nar syndrome.

"Mind melds are only one form of telepathy. Non-melders are capable of some of these practices. One of these practices involves helping another Vulcan enter a trance for healing if they are not able to. I instructed you on how to enter such a trance."

Jonathan nodded. He wasn't sure exactly sure he was following her, but he could feel she was telling the truth.

"There is a link between us - one that connects you telepathically to me. I strengthened it in order to communicate with you."

Jonathan gaped and looked over at the nearest wall. He didn't know what to think. He woke up this morning to a world he could never have imagined. Earth destroyed, survivors living in a colony cobbled together from ship parts, T'Pol living with him as his caretaker, and a link between them connecting them. Everything seemed so bizarre that it could be true.

A hand gently touched his cheek. Physical and mental warmth spread through him from her palm. A smile upturned his lips. Her eyes mirrored the caring she sent him.

"I believe you," he said softly. Her hand dropped back to her lap.

So this was the way they were, Jonathan thought. Their relationship evolved, but never beyond a certain point. They shared a house, shared each other's company, but never achieved the intimacy of a couple living together. Not just physical intimacy- freedom to expression feelings in words and in actions. The unguarded feelings he glimpsed for a moment in her eyes made him almost certain T'Pol wanted their relationship to evolve to that point. He did too. The thought amazed him. He hadn't admitted to himself that his feelings for T'Pol went beyond close friendship. The realist in him knew it wouldn't work while he was sick.

He whispered the words that came into his mind, "Parted from me and never parted, never and always touching and touched..."

"Yes," T'Pol confirmed looking at him confused. She said the words aloud acknowledging to him and to her what she'd try to deny for weeks, "We are bonded. Our minds connected as bond mates. Our bond will strengthen until it can only be broken by death."

What she described sounded like a marriage of the minds. Something intimate and personal. He remembered his mother married to a husband that at times couldn't remember her and couldn't be a companion to her anymore. He didn't want T'Pol to be married to him if that was the price she would pay.

"Can we do anything to stop it?"

"I don't know." T'Pol admitted.

Jonathan had many questions left about this link between them. He dropped them knowing it would be uncomfortable for T'Pol. He placed his hands on her shoulders wanting to hug her to him. He focused on his feelings, trying to convey only reassurance and strength. T'Pol looked up at him and sent a thank you with her eyes.

Parted from me and never parted. The words repeated in his head.

ooooooooo

T'Pol didn't like the prospect of a mindmeld after her experience with Tolaris. She knew the adepts of Mount Selaya would not intentionally harm her, yet she still felt fear.

"I have Pa'nar syndrome," she told the man who identified himself as Syrran.

"We know. Pa'nar syndrome is caused by those who do not know how to mindmeld properly. I can cure the illness if you will allow me."

T'Pol shifted in the thick white adept's robe considering this. Candlelight flickered on Syrran's face highlighting his eyes and casting shifting shadows on him. "Is there any risk?"

"The mindmeld involved is difficult. I have successfully cured 17 people since I acquired the knowledge," he almost added - of Surak.

T'Pol purposefully didn't ask how many people the mindmeld had been unsuccessful on. "I agree to the procedure."

Syrran noticed she avoided saying mindmeld. He left her in the small quarters to meditate alone.

Two hours later she was escorted deep into the tunnel system to a massive cavern whose ceiling and walls were shrouded in darkness. Candlelight flickered on candelabras but the light couldn't travel far enough to illuminate the depths of the cavern. The cavern smelled of moisture. T'Pol strained to hear running water, but only heard the breathing of the other people in the room. Sitting on the floor of the cave were the adepts, priests, and priestesses of Mt. Selaya.

T'Pol passed by rows and rows of adepts. Their faces concealed by the hoods of their white robes. Hundreds of them sat in the room. She walked with her silent escorts towards the high priestess at the front of the chamber. Adorned in her ceremonial headdress and robes, she looked out of place flocked by several plainly robed priests and the man named Syrran. T'Les waited beside him.

T'Pol looked around for another face. Jonathan must be impatiently waiting for her elsewhere. She understood why he wasn't here. He was an outsider. More than that, humans had an aura of unrestrained emotion around them more powerful than the clouds of odor that trailed after them. Syrran told her he could be a distraction.

The energy in the room was palatable. T'Pol's ears tingled. Looking closely at a group of adepts sitting by a candelabra, she saw their eyes closed. She blinked remembering an ancient Vulcan practice that pooled telepathic powers through group telepathy.

"T'Pol, daughter of T'Les, we welcome thee," the priestess' aged voice coolly greeted her. Wrinkles cut channels through her tanned skin. Her silver hair was braided in a style several centuries older than her.

"I am honored to be here," T'Pol replied being careful to keep all emotion from her voice.

The priestess nodded her head then spoke in a dialect of Vulcan that dated back to a time before the formation of the religious sanctuary at Mt. Selaya. A time when the first priests and priestesses began writing the scrolls containing their knowledge of telepathy and the Vulcan mind. Thousands of years before High Command forced them to perform telepathic rituals in secrecy.

Adepts guided T'Pol to a platform. She lay down and the high priestess approached with Syrran. Aged, bony fingers touched the pressure points on the right side of her face and tough padded fingers the other.

A voice, the combination of feminine and masculine spoke in her mind. Our minds are one. Our thoughts are one. Do not be afraid T'Pol.

Tendrils searched through her mind. Two consciousnesses were scouring her mind. She felt open and exposed. Nothing could be hidden from them. They saw who she was yet they did not judge her.

You are still a Vulcan, T'Pol. The masculine voice said in explanation.

Surak.

I am here.

T'Pol gasped audibly. Syrran was not searching her mind. Surak was.

Tremors came from Surak and the high priestess. She knew what they'd found. Tolaris. His thoughts, his memories implanted in her mind by the forced mind meld. His stain left to seep into her mind. No matter what suppressive techniques she tried, she never felt clean. A part of him was always inside her.

I can cure thee my child.

A tear slid down T'Pol's face as she felt the damage in her mind repaired, and the memories and thoughts of vanish.

I feel a presence. A human. The... parasites exist outside of time connecting you with the other who's mind is a host. You see through him his existence and through his bond with his mate her existence.

A memory surfaced one of Jonathan and his childhood home. Painting clouds and creating daisies. Jonathan whispering that if she wanted to find him he would be there. It was him. The other Jonathan. She could feel that dream was different from the others. She dreamed it and not the other T'Pol. Jonathan was trying to tell her how to find him.

We cannot remove the parasites or restore memories that never formed.

Both presences retracted from her mind.

ooooooooooo

"I don't understand why you waited so long to see me T'Pol." Phlox's disappointment and frustration with her was plain on his usually jovial face.

T'Pol decided that telling the truth would be the most logical course of action, "I believed that my symptoms would gradual diminish along with the strength of the bond."

"And when were you going to tell me that you strengthened an existing telepathic connection in order to heal him?"

"That detail was not necessary for you to know in order to heal Jonathan."

Phlox sighed. Vulcans, they could be even more unforthcoming with information to their doctors than humans.

"In the future, please come to me when you begin to have unusual symptoms. You could be wrong in you assumption that this was due to your bond. I'll perform some scans and see if I can rule out your Pa'nar syndrome first."

T'Pol waited impatiently as he ran different scans and asked her questions. His only comments on the results were hmmm.

"Do you feel fatigued some days and energetic others?"

"Yes. The fatigue can last for days at a time. When I am not fatigued, I do feel energetic."

"Have you noticed any increase or decrease in your appetite?"

"My appetite has increased. Is that a problem?" She didn't mention being drawn to the stasis unit by one craving or another a few times a week.

"Not at all. You've gained some weight, but it's not adversely affecting your health," he put his scanner down on a side table.

"Doctor, do you know what is causing my symptoms?"

"Not yet, I have a suspicion, but I'd like to run more intensive scans to be certain.

T'Pol nodded her head and thought of Jonathan. He said he wanted to take Porthos on a walk through the colony while she was here. If he came back before the Doctor completed his examination, he could just wait in the waiting room or walk the short distance home.

Twenty minute of tests later, Phlox had an answer, "I'm happy to tell you that your Pa'nar syndrome is still in remission. Tell me, have you had any feelings or desires of a sexual nature since the beginning of your symptoms?"

"I fail to see how that is relevant."

"It is relevant T'Pol. If I'm correct, your brain is producing massive quantities of hormones that are affecting your energy levels and your emotional state in different ways. Your body is preparing your reproductive organs for your pon farr. I need to know how far your symptoms have progressed."

It all made sense now to her. In a Vulcan woman, pon farr was usually induced by a bond with a man. His fever would be transferred to her. Vulcan women entered their first un-induced pon farr sometime between their 70s and 80s. By then, the woman would have already undergone several pon farrs induced by their mate. If they were bonded, their mate would catch their fever. Pon farr was a private matter, so T'Pol knew little about the changes in the body that led up to the actual fever.

"I have not felt the fever burn inside of me yet. I have felt at times sexual… appreciation and desire. But not with any regularity."

"The Vulcan database is understandably not forthcoming in this area. So I can't be sure how much time you do have until the fever begins. I want to closely monitor your condition until your fever ends."

T'Pol looked over his shoulder at the wall and nodded. Knowing what her condition was didn't make her feel relieved.

"Doctor is the bond and pon farr somehow connected?"

"They could be. It is also possible that the stress your body went through in the desert triggered your cycle to activate. Or these events may be coincidences and this is simply your time."

Phlox steered the conversation towards the topic she was avoiding, "Now is the time to consider your options. Since your pon farr is natural, I can't give you medication to stop it. You will have to choose a mate."

"I know." And that was the problem. Her body would desire any male in the throws, but her mind and her feelings would desire one male in particular. A deeper connection of body and mind would only purge the fever. A night, several days, or even a week might be required of him.

How would she explain to him so he would help her? How would this change their relationship? She didn't know.

"Before the time comes, talk to him. I think you'll be surprised by his answer."

Phlox left a few instructions for her on a padd and released her. Jonathan was sitting in the waiting room with Porthos lying at his feet.

"Is everything alright? You look sad," he asked as they walked back home.

"I'll be fine. I have a problem to think about."

He examined her face concerned, "Okay. If you need someone to talk to, I'm here."

Dust kicked up underneath their shoes. They passed through the outskirts of the colony. Children played in the streets. Adults walking by or sitting on their "porches" noticed them. Almost everyone said hello or at least waved, even if their eyes didn't hold the welcome. With your neighbors only a few feet away it was best to play nice to everyone. The rumor mill would spread around your misdeeds faster than electricity traveling from the solar power plant.

The smells of and sounds of daily life traveled out open doors and windows. People cooking, singing, praying, laughing, crying, shouting, eating, sleeping, and making love. Everyone was going about his or her life. T'Pol envied what they had. A normal life with normal problems.

ooooooooo

T'Pol opened her eyes and examined her surroundings. Her body was enveloped in the warmth of a white down comforter. Looking overhead she saw dark wooden beams running parallel to one another across the white ceiling.

T'Pol pulled herself up to lean against the iron headboard of the bed and looked around the room. An open closet held her clothing on hangers inside. An antique cherry chest of drawers sat next to the closet with her meditation candles lined up on the top. On the side of the bed nearest to her was a nightstand with a stack of books. Some of the titles were in English others in Vulcan.

A closed door painted in the same pale shade of yellow as the room was the only exit to the room besides the closed set of French doors. Through the plate glass she saw a wooden porch leading out to a beach and the ocean. A pair of matching Adirondack chairs sat on the porch with a table in between them. T'Pol wondered how she'd come from Ceti Alpha 5 to this place.

Three knocks on the closed door caught her attention.

"Come in."

Jonathan's tousled head of hair poked through the door followed by the rest of him. He smiled, "Good morning. You're up late this morning. I've made breakfast already. Whenever you're ready to eat you can come out and I'll explain everything."

T'Pol dressed and came out to the kitchen. Jonathan guided her to the cherry wood dining room table and chairs. He served her breakfast and explained everything.

"Earth was not destroyed?"

"We're on Earth, Northern California to be exact."

He continued with his story, "Even with your memory difficulties you were still able to contribute to the success of our mission. After we returned from the mission, I took you to Vulcan to see the best healers, scientists, and even the high priestess of Mt. Selaya. Unfortunately, they could only cure your Pa'nar syndrome. They said the means to remove the parasites didn't exist yet. With your mother's consent, I brought you back to Earth to consult specialists here. We've lived in this house together since then. I took a position as Ambassador to Vulcan so I can be here with you. We can travel back to see your mother when I'm at the Earth Embassy on Vulcan."

He paused and smiled, "You've been helping me with the finer points of Vulcan diplomacy."

"I am having difficulty believing you. Before I woke up in the other room, I clearly remember falling asleep in our home on Ceti Alpha 5."

"I know those memories seem like they are your own, but they're not. Think about your memories before being stranded in the desert. They were memories from my perspective."

T'Pol went over her memories again, "You are correct."

"That reality is one where I was infected with the parasites. Those parasites exist outside of what you referred to as the space-time continuum. They link you with the other me and with his bond mate, T'Pol."

T'Pol's mind tried to process the information and reconcile it with what she remembered. "I remember dreaming of this place before."

"Yes," Jonathan smiled, "You told me about the dream. I'm afraid the backyard isn't as beautiful as you described." He could see the confusion in her eyes, "You have every right to be confused T'Pol. I can only imagine what it would be like to be in your shoes. Let me make you some tea and we can talk some more out on the porch. The sun is about to rise."

T'Pol sipped her mint tea and relaxed in the chair beside Jonathan looking out at the red hue of the clouds radiating from the sliver to yellow light on the horizon.

"Why did you give up your command and move here to care for me?"

"You saved my life in the corridor. You could have left me under that fallen beam but you didn't. I owe you my life and this is a small sacrifice in order to let you live with someone you're comfortable with. I can't let my friend go through this alone." He reached out and held her hand then reluctantly let it go.

"Is our relationship still one exclusively of friendship?"

Jonathan half-smiled and said, "You always ask me that. I guess that's what I get for giving you the room with a queen size bed. Our relationship has evolved, but I can't allow it to become romantic. I wouldn't feel right doing that when you won't be able to remember any of what happened."

"I understand."

"I suppose you do. From your perspective, you cared for me on Ceti Alpha 5." Jonathan looked out at the rising sun then back into her eyes. "Almost every day you tell me what happened in your dreams. If you want to talk about it, I'd like to listen. I enjoy hearing about the adventures of the other you and me."

T'Pol told him of what happened that day, leaving out the part about her pon farr. Jonathan smiled and commented on parts of her story.

"The me in your dreams is lucky," he said without thinking.

"What do you mean?"

Jonathan pressed his lips together holding back what he wanted to say. He sighed and decided to tell her. "You chose to stay with him. You're there for him when he needs you. He's so lucky that you remember him and everyday you've spent with him."

He stood up and walked over to rest his elbows on the railing. T'Pol followed him resting her hands on the railing beside him. Looking over at him, she read his face.

"I enjoy watching the sunrise with you. We start our days like this. I get to spend the day with you. The night always comes too soon. We watch the sun set together sometimes. I don't like to, but I do it for you. Gray spreads over the sky after the sun sets reminds me that you will fade away just like the sunlight." Jonathan sighed. "What am I doing? I'm not supposed to talk to you about this."

She placed her hand on his shoulder in a gesture he'd extended to her many times. She softly whispered, "I understand."

How many times did she wish that night wouldn't come? How many times did she illogically hope that the next morning he would wake up and remember? How many of Phlox's treatments failed and with them her hopes?

Jonathan looked at her and put his hand over hers on his shoulder. He brought it down to hold. "Thank you."

That day they walked Porthos along the beach. T'Pol later helped Jonathan make a Vulcan dish for her late lunch. She watched him from across the table, trying to get a sense of this man she knew but didn't know. His lips curved up as he closed his mouth around another bite of beef stroganoff. After a sip of wine, he told her that watching him seemed to be her past time during their meals.

"Will you watch the sun set with me?"

"Of course," he answered. She knew he didn't like watching the sunset, but she has something to discuss with him.

"I once told you that Vulcans mate every seven years…"

She continued to explain to him that her time may be near. They would face this together. The sun was setting, the night taking the light from the sky again. Another day was ending, but there were so many ahead to live.

A/N: Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. The next chapter I will try to keep shorter, so it doesn't take as long to write. I will also try to keep it PG-13 or R. Everyone have a great Labor Day weekend!