Missing missing scenes: Convergence
Summary: After reading Alelou's missing scene for 'Divergence', you may have been wondering what happened next, and why T'Pol was so keen to speak with him the next day ...
Disclaimer: Star Trek: Enterprise and its characters are copyright CBS/Paramount. No copyright infringement is intended by the author of this story, which is solely for the purpose of entertainment and is not for profit.
A/N: Just another little angstidote to be read in conjunction with Alelou's missing scenes. This one is set shortly after the missing scene for Divergence. :p
"Whether I want to be or not, apparently."
His bitter words rang in her ears. Was this what she was dreading – that he no longer cared for her? Why did her subconscious keep torturing her like this? She tightened her grip around her knees and listened to the echoing silence of the whitespace. It had never seemed like a lonely place before, but now it left her feeling … empty.
"You still here?"
She looked up, startled. He was back, but this time he seemed slightly more comfortable, less defensive. The fact that he was back in uniform may have had something to do with that, she reflected. Was he here to mock her again? It seemed there was no escape from the torment. Instead of being a soothing refuge, her whitespace was becoming just as stressful as the real world.
She put her head back on her knees and looked at him tiredly out of the corner of her eye.
"Why are you here?"
"Thought you might want a cup of tea," he said. Indeed, there in his hand was one of her favourite oversize mugs with a wisp of camomile-scented steam curling from it.
She wasn't thirsty, and it would be doubly illogical to take refreshments within a mental construct, but she recognised a peace offering when she saw it.
She reached up to accept the mug from him, and wrapped her hands around it for warmth. Illogical again, she chided herself, but some habits were hard to break. She took a sip from it, and felt the warmth spreading down her throat.
With his offering delivered, he seemed unsure what to do. He paced back and forth, looking everywhere but at her. After a time he stopped, and seemed to be studying something over her head. Following his eyes she saw he was gazing at the infrared emitter that cast a warm glow over her meditation cushions and seemed, bizarrely, to have followed her into the whitespace. When she looked directly at it it faded into transparency, but as soon as she looked away it became more solid and she could feel its warmth on her shoulders. It was a most peculiar sensation.
She thought back to that evening, a lifetime ago, when he'd installed it for her. It had marked a turning point in her relationship with him, and eventually with the rest of the crew. That simple gesture had invoked a sense of belonging, of being wanted, that had sustained her through some difficult times during her first few months on board. It was one of the reasons she looked forward to meditation so much. Not just that it was comfortable, but it reminded her that somebody cared enough to want to make her comfortable.
"Why is it …," his voice trailed off. He began again. "Why are we ..."
He seemed lost for words.
"I'm sorry to be the cause of so much pain," she said.
Her words seemed to incense him.
"You're sorry? Do you have any idea what it feels like to be rejected by the love of your life?"
She looked at him bleakly.
"At that time, I did not," she admitted. "But I would remind you that I had little choice in the matter. In any case, you should bear in mind that now we are apart by your choice, not mine."
"So now this is my fault?"
"I didn't say that," she said defensively.
"YOU left ME," he said, jabbing a finger at her. "You left me, and chose him. How the hell am I supposed to forgive you for that?"
He sounded furious now.
"Why the hell did I let you do it? You were MINE. You were always mine. You'll always be mine. How could I have been so stupid as to let you go? I should have killed that sonovabitch," he roared.
As if the effort had exhausted him, he sank down beside T'Pol and slumped back against the side of her bunk, which appeared behind him just in time to take his weight.
"Stupidest damned thing I ever did," he muttered.
He glanced at her disconsolately.
"I just wish I had the guts to say this to the real you."
His eyes settled on the floor in front of him.
"You left me," he repeated, as if it still bewildered him.
She shuffled back to sit beside him, shivering as she left the warmth of the heater.
"How the hell are we going to fix this, T'Pol?" he asked plaintively.
"I ..." she began, and then realized she had no idea how to answer him.
What did he mean? Was he trying to 'fix' their relationship, or did he just want to end the pain?
Absently he put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her against him, still shaking his head sadly and gazing at the floor.
She rested her head against his chest. After a moment he put his other arm around her and she was perplexed to find herself curled up in his lap. How had she ended up there? There was a sudden coldness as he took one arm away and then she felt something warm wrapped around her. It was the quilted blanket from his quarters, she realised, as his arm tightened around her again.
"God I've missed this, T'Pol," he whispered against her head. After a moment she felt something dripping into her hair. His arms tightened around her and she felt him shaking silently.
She reached an arm behind him and hugged him back. She really needed to talk to Trip about this, she decided. The real Trip.
Something about that thought nagged at her. Was it something that her imaginary Trip had said earlier? She needed to track down the errant thought; she had a sense that it was important.
But first she would rest her eyes. Just for a moment.