Chapter 3:
When Jon rolled over the next morning on the bio bed and opened his eyes, he expected to see the dirty surroundings he'd become accustomed to. "It had to be a dream," he told himself as he made his way to wakefulness. 'There's no way Enterprise could have rescued me."
Convinced that there was nothing worth waking up to, he started to curl up his legs and go back to sleep, but he met a small, soft barrier to his intended actions. Opening one eye slightly, he saw Porthos, curled up on his legs. "Porthos?" he mumbled, opening both eyes.
The dog rose quickly and with one jump, landed on his master's chest, licking his face enthusiastically. "Hey, I missed you too boy," Jon said, patting the dog's head and looking around.
It was sickbay—his sickbay. He was home, it hadn't just been a dream. "Well hello Captain!" Phlox said cheerfully, bustling around the curtain to greet him. "How are you feeling this morning?"
Taking a moment to examine himself, he realized that most of the aches and pains were gone. Thanking God for 22nd century pain medication, he said, "I feel fine, mostly. My side…"
"Yes, that wound will bother you a little for some time," Phlox agreed, lifting his shirt to check on it. "But outside of that…?"
"I feel fine," Jon reiterated, feeling a sudden desire to be on the bridge.
"Yes Captain," Phlox said dryly, seeing the question in his eyes, "you may return to work today. I see no reason to hold you here, as long as," he added, watching Jon's eyes light up. "As long as you promise to take it easy!"
He started to laugh, but found that pulled at his side a little. "Doc, I don't think I'll be running any marathons with this," he said, gesturing down.
"Good. As long as you realize that, I believe you're free to go, after you eat your breakfast," Phlox told him as the doors opened, revealing a steward carrying a tray.
Jon was surprised and slightly embarrassed when he was greeted with a standing ovation as he walked onto the bridge. "What's this about?" he questioned gruffly.
"Captain, we wanted you to know how much we missed you this last week," Hoshi explained.
"Yeah, things just weren't the same around here without you," Travis chimed in. "Not that you didn't do a great job Sub-commander," he added hastily. "It's just that the captain…"
"He is your captain, and that is special. I understand Ensign," T'Pol said smoothly.
"Does the crew know I'm alive?" Jon asked, suddenly realizing he hadn't made any announcements.
"Yes Captain," T'Pol replied. "I made sure they were all notified this morning when they reached their duty stations, and those who have the day off or who have beta shift have been informed through other means."
"Well then, let's see what we can do about getting this ship back to the 22nd century where it belongs," Jon suggested.
"I have some data for you to review on that issue," T'Pol said. "Perhaps we could go over it in your ready room."
"Lead the way," he said agreeably, following her off the bridge.
Somehow, neither of them were surprised to see Daniels waiting for them, a broad smile in place. "Welcome home, Captain," he said happily, holding his hand out for Jon to shake.
Instead, Jon leaned against his desk, watching the other man's smile dim slightly as his gesture went unrecognized. "Good," he thought bitterly. "It's about time he feels uncomfortable with what he does."
After taking a moment to watch him squirm, he said, "So, I hear I have you to thank for my recent cultural experience," lifting one brow in a sardonic query.
"I'm sorry Captain, I was just trying to save my timeline," Daniels said, suddenly feeling trapped in the usually spacious ready room. "If you're not there…"
"I know, if I'm not there, the Federation won't begin and life as you know it will cease to exist," Jon said, cutting him off. He was sick to death of Daniels' interference in his mission, and he wasn't going to sit here and listen to him justify it one more time. "Well, if you didn't notice Daniels," he continued, losing what little calm he possessed, "life as I know it almost ceased to exist. I'd appreciate it if you would stay out of my life. Find someone else to harass with your time travel mumbo-jumbo, I've had it."
By the end of the speech, his face was red and he was yelling. He'd been waiting a long time to say all that, and after his latest experience with Daniel's particular brand of "help" it was time to let it all out.
"Captain, calm down," T'Pol cautioned.
"Calm down?" he hollered. "T'Pol, thanks to him, I just spent the last week in a hospital. On a war front. In the 20th century! You can't seriously be saying you think he did the right thing?"
"No, I understand your frustrations and I agree with them. In fact, I believe I told Mr. Daniels something very similar when we spoke earlier, did I not?" she asked, giving him a penetrating stare.
"Yes, you did," he answered with a grimace.
"Then I feel I must ask why you are here again."
"Can I at least send you back to your own time?" Daniels asked petulantly, upset that he was being rebuffed. His wounded pride hurt all the more because he knew he deserved the set down.
"I was under the impression that your "magical time traveling abilities" had been stripped from you," he said with a sneer, still upset at the way this man constantly played god in his life.
"Well… yes," Daniels hedged. "But my superiors are as eager to have you back where you belong as I am, and they have given me express permission to return you to the 22nd century, as long as I promise not to do anything else."
Jon shook his head, almost amused that the man had the audacity to ask. On the other hand… "I might regret this, but I can't see that I have any choice… please, send us back to the 22nd century. With no mess-ups this time, if you will," he muttered.
"Your sarcasm is not necessary Captain," Daniels told him as he disappeared.
Almost as soon as he'd left, the comm in the ready room beeped. "Captain?" Hoshi said.
"Go ahead Hoshi," he replied, hoping it had worked this time.
"All the satellites just reappeared Sir, and Star Fleet is hailing us." The excitement in her voice was palpable. They were home!
"Put it onscreen as soon as I get out on the bridge," Jon said, already starting for the door.
"Hello Jon, Enterprise… That was a job well done," Admiral Forrest said, grinning from ear to ear.
"Excuse me sir?" Jon asked, still feeling slightly disoriented from his time in the 20th century.
"The weapon! You must have managed to stop the Xindi after all Jon, I knew you could do it."
"Ah, of course… Daniels must have returned us to directly after the weapon blew up. I wonder how he got us all here and all the Xindi back where they belong… I wonder if the Xindi still think I'm dead, and if the spheres are still destroyed."
"Actually sir, the Xindi didn't turn out to be the true enemy," Jon corrected, focusing on the Admiral, who was eager for a full account of their experiences. "If you'd like, my command crew and I can come down and fill you in on all the details."
"Yes, of course! We're looking forward to hearing about your adventures in the Delphic Expanse too. Actually, once you dock the ship, the whole crew has a month of leave. You all deserve a break, and I'm sure Enterprise could use some work."
Jon grimaced, running over the numerous damage reports he'd received in the last six months. "She could sir, and so do we. Thank you, we'll be in your office first thing in the morning to report," Jon said.
The older man's grin didn't slip so much as one notch when Jon confirmed the state of the pride of Starfleet. After all, what was one ship compared to an entire planet? "We'll be looking forward to it. Forrest out."
"Well gang," Jon said, turning to the bridge crew, "you heard the Admiral. Travis, get us to space dock so we can start our vacation."
"Yes sir!" Travis said enthusiastically. "I'll have us there in about 15 minutes sir," he announced.
"Wonderful. Hoshi, put me on a ship wide channel."
"Aye sir," she said, punching a few keys and then nodding at him.
Jon sat in his chair and hit the comm button. "Enterprise, this is Captain Archer. If you haven't heard yet, I am alive and well and glad to be back. You'll be glad to know that we're back in the 22nd century. I just talked to Admiral Forrest, and apparently our mission was a success. In fact, he was so impressed with our work that he's giving us a month, which is of course about how long it will take the crew at Jupiter Station to fix the ship. As soon as we dock and your duties are turned over, you are all free to go. I'll see you back here in one month. Archer out."
The instant the crew heard the familiar clang of the docking clamp, a party-like atmosphere descended on the entire ship. Unneeded terminals were shut down and crewmembers shuttled down to earth in droves. Jon had remained aboard until the end, with the rest of the bridge crew, turning the ship's systems over to the station.
Everything was complete now though, and they were ready to go. Trip and Malcolm had left a few minutes ago to pack for their vacation, and Jon was just getting ready to do the same.
"Captain, could I see you in your ready room?" Hoshi requested, catching him just before he could leave the bridge.
"Of course Hoshi," he replied solicitously, even though he wanted nothing more than to return to his quarters and pack his sea bag. He wondered briefly why they still called it a sea bag, when Starfleet had nothing to do with the ocean, but the thought left his mind as quickly as it had entered. The sooner he could answer whatever question Hoshi had, the sooner he could pack, and the sooner he was packed, the sooner he could leave.
"What did you need?" he asked as soon as the door was shut, not wanting to waste any time with small talk.
She hesitated for a moment, not quite as eager to have this conversation as he was. Glancing down at the floor, she said quietly, "I'm not sure I'll be coming back at the end of the month."
"What was that?" he asked, sure he'd heard wrong.
"I said, I'm considering resigning my commission in Starfleet," she answered, looking him square in the face this time.
"What? Why? You're the best comm officer any captain could ask for."
"Any captain who wouldn't mind having his mission compromised by a foolish girl," she countered, her eyes blazing now.
"Hoshi. Are you still beating yourself up for giving them the third launch code?" he asked gently.
"I should have been able to fight more, to fight harder," she insisted, avoiding his gaze once again. "If I was meant for this life, I would have been able to. Instead, I jeopardized everything we'd all worked so hard for. It was my fault…"
"And if you hadn't been there once, we never would have been able to shut down the weapon in the end," he interrupted, reaching out and forcing her to look at him. "If you hadn't come back to us in one piece and able to decode Degra's schematics and instructions, we never would have beaten them, and we wouldn't have a home to go back to right now," he told her firmly, watching closely to see if she believed him.
For the first time since she was kidnapped, Hoshi believed again that she was a Starfleet officer. There would still be times that being in space would make her feel uncomfortable, but it was exhilarating at times as well. "I could teach exo-linguistics at the new academy," she offered weakly, hoping he would shoot the idea down.
"Not without a recommendation from your captain," he told her smugly.
"You don't think I could teach?" she asked, her shoulders drooping.
"Oh, I think you could do it… just not if it means I can't have you on my ship." He watched in satisfaction as the meaning of his words sunk in. "You are the best Starfleet has to offer, Hoshi Sato, and I need the best. I'm not letting you run away with your tail between your legs just because you think you could have fought off an alien parasite against all odds. Heck, I'm even putting in a requisition for seatbelts on the bridge! Now, are you ready for some cool weather?"
"Cool weather?" she asked, the quick change in subject confusing her.
"I promised you Canada or Norway, didn't I? No tropical bugs, no reptiles… I've already made arrangements with a shuttle service, there will be someone ready to take you wherever you want to go as soon as we get to the surface."
"Thank you sir," she said, her eyes lighting up. "I've heard Canada is lovely at this time of year."
"Just let them know where to take you and when to pick you up. I expect to see you in a month," he said, opening the door and heading for the lift.
"Aye sir, one month," she told him just before the door shut. His last sight of her was of her securing her station, a smile firmly in place.
The excitement around him as he walked back to his cabin was palpable, and he couldn't help but share it. A month vacation! It had been years since he'd had anything more than a long weekend! "It'll be good to get back to the apartment for a while, eh boy?" Jon said, reaching for his duffle bag. "We can relax, go to the beach, maybe take a weekend in the mountains and just enjoy the cool breeze."
He stopped for a moment, his eyes drifting shut as he imagined what it would be like to spend a whole month doing nothing but what he wanted to. Remembering he had a shuttle to catch, he shook himself out of his reverie and went back to packing. "Shirts, shorts, socks… what else should I take Porthos?" he asked, leaning over to scratch the dog's head. As he did so, he caught sight of the bookshelf against his wall. "Ah, I'll finally have time to get some reading done!" he realized.
The antique smell of the paper was a comfort to him, and it would be wonderfully relaxing while on vacation. Bending down in front of the shelves, he ran his finger along the old spines, waiting for a title to jump out at him. "Hmm… Candide, a whole bunch by Louis L'amour… wait a minute, where did The Three Musketeers go?" he wondered, seeing a hole where it should have been.
Looking around the room, he quickly spotted it on the small table he had positioned just inside his door. "That's not where I left you," he mused, tossing it in his bag and wondering how it had gotten there. Shrugging it off as unimportant, he grabbed Porthos' leash and secured it to the beagle's collar. Picking up his bag, he took one last look to make sure hadn't missed anything before leaving the room, hurrying toward the station's shuttle hangar where a transport was waiting to take him and the remaining crew down to Earth.
"You ready for this Cap'n?" Trip asked enthusiastically as they boarded the shuttle together. "A whole month off, sleeping in, watching movies… no work…"
"You bet I am Trip. But don't forget we have to survive explaining what actually happened to Admiral Forrest," he reminded him.
"You had to go and rain on my parade, didn't ya?" Trip groused. "Have ya figured out what yer gonna tell him?" he questioned.
"Well, I think I'll start by pointing out that no matter how it happened, that's still there," Jon said, gesturing out the window at the rapidly growing vision of Earth.
"Good idea," Trip agreed. "He can't really argue with that, can he?"
"No, the Admiral is a lot like the Aquatics," Jon said and chuckled. "He's greatly influenced by visual evidence."
The entire exchange had been witnessed by several lower level crewmembers, and they couldn't help but laugh at their captain's observation. Looking around at them, Jon asked, "So, how many of you are planning to be back with us when we take off again in a month?"
Most raised their hands, but Crewman Mike Kelly shook his head. "My fiancée has been waiting on me for two years sir," he said. "I just wanted a little adventure, and then after the attack… well, I couldn't leave, and she understood that. I think I'm ready for a normal life now though," he concluded.
"Normal? What's that?" one of the others retorted, starting another round of laughter.
Jon half-listened to the talking and laughter going on around him, but he couldn't stop looking at the view he was seeing. They'd just come around on the day side of Earth, and the remnants of the weapon were clearly visible here, along with Yosemite station. When he saw the pieces of machine against the blue backdrop of his home, the enormity of what almost happened hit him.
"We were almost left with a completely different setting," he realized, shuddering slightly. "How close did we really come to having pieces of Earth scattered across the sky, with the still fully functioning weapon clearly visible in the midst?"
Images of the battle came to him, starting with Shran showing up. "You're not using your head, Pink Skin!" He had to smile a little at the memories, thinking about how important that alliance had turned out to be in this mission.
The one thing Daniels had said about the Federation that he struggled to believe was that both Andorians and Vulcans would agree to belong to the same body. But perhaps, if Earth could act as a mediator between the two peoples, it might work.
"Hey Cap'n, whatcha thinkin'?" Trip asked, poking him in the side.
"Hmm?" Jon asked, switching his gaze from the view he saw to the people sitting in the shuttle with him.
"Ah-hah! I told ya guys, he's thinking 'bout work!" Trip said jubilantly. "No more of that now Cap'n, ya hear me? You're on vacation for a month, we all are. Stop thinkin' like a starship captain and start thinkin' like… like a man on vacation!" he ordered.
"Yes sir!" Jon mocked. "But don't forget, you and I aren't on vacation until Admiral Forrest releases us tomorrow," he reminded his friend, watching again as the shuttle crossed the atmospheric barrier and descended quickly toward the surface.
"There ya go again, rainin' on my parade," Trip said with a groan. "Ya had to volunteer all three of us for this little meeting, didn't ya?" he accused half-heartedly.
"Trip, you're third in command. Forrest would have asked for you even if I hadn't mentioned you," Jon reminded him in amusement.
"Yeah, I know," Trip muttered, gathering his things as they touched down. "I just wish, just this once, that I didn't have to do some debriefing before I was free."
"I know exactly what you mean," Jon said whole-heartedly. "So let's make our story as abbreviated as possible and get on with the business of leaving business behind, shall we?" he suggested, stepping out into the sunshine and stretching luxuriously.
"Sounds good," Trip agreed. "So I'll see you tomorrow," he said, moving in the direction of Starfleet and the accommodations he knew would be waiting for him.
Jon meanwhile took Porthos' leash in hand and started walking the few blocks towards his apartment. They'd only gone a short distance when the small dog perked up, catching the familiar scent of the ocean combined with hotdog vendors.
"You know where we are, don't you boy?" Jon said, watching the dog's tail move faster and faster. "Come on Porthos," he said with a laugh, dragging the dog past a vendor and to the apartment door. "We can go out for food later, first I want to put some things away."
The next morning, he was standing in Admiral Forrest's office with Trip and T'Pol, shifting uncomfortably as he delivered the last of the report. "So the Xindi weren't actually behind the attempt to destroy Earth at all?" Forrest asked dubiously.
"No sir, the Sphere Builders wanted us destroyed so we wouldn't be able to stop them from transforming the galaxy," Jon said, wanting desperately for him to understand and believe. He was ready to begin building toward the Federation now, but without Starfleet's approval, it would never happen.
"Does this plot ever end?" the admiral questioned, sitting down heavily in his chair. It was hard for him to accept what he was being told. Just six months ago, Jon had been in his office, insisting that an unknown race called the Xindi had decided to destroy Earth because of things they'd learned would happen in the future. Now he was saying that not only was their information false, but it wasn't the Xindi who wanted Earth gone at all. Sometimes the stories Enterprise came back with were almost too much to believe.
"As far as we know, that's the extent of it. We still don't know some particulars, such as who the Suliban work for and why he chose to tell us about the Xindi, but the plot itself started with the Sphere Builders. They needed us out of the way, so they manipulated the Xindi."
"And how can we be sure they won't do the same thing again?" Forrest questioned intently, grabbing onto the one piece of information he could fully grasp. "What if they return to the Xindi and continue to tell them they've been lied to? Who will the Xindi trust?"
"That all depends on which of the Xindi races they talk to Admiral," Trip answered. "Most of 'em believe us, I think even the insectoids came around in the end. But the reptilians…"
"They could be a problem," Jon concurred. "However, I think we need to trust the council will be able to control them. At the moment, they have no power, few ships, and no weapon. It was the humanoids who designed the weapon, so the reptilians don't even have the technology to manufacture a replica."
"Is there anything else you'd like to include in your report?" Forrest asked, his eyebrows raised as he looked at each officer directly.
The three officers glanced at each other, wondering if they should share their most recent adventure. With a silent exchange, they agreed that he would find out eventually, so they ought to tell him themselves.
"Admiral," T'Pol began, "there is one other thing that happened."
"Go on Sub-commander," he said, waving his hand, resigning himself to yet another installment of Ripleys Believe it—or Not; Enterprise Style.
"When he destroyed the weapon, Captain Archer was unable to escape before it blew up."
"But he's standing in front of me," the other man objected.
"Admiral, I didn't escape, at least not in the traditional sense. Instead, I was pulled into the past… to World War 2."
"World War 2? Jon, this is too much. You can't expect me to believe this," Forrest protested.
"I wouldn't sir, but you are free to listen to the officers' logs from the time I was missing. They'll tell the story more clearly than we can."
"And what happened then?"
"When we learned of the captain's death," T'Pol said, taking up the story again, "we continued with our original plans. We returned to Earth, intending to inform you of our success both against the weapon and with the spheres."
"But no one answered our hails," Trip interrupted.
"You didn't contact me, I contacted you," Forrest argued.
"That is because we were no longer in this century either," T'Pol explained. "In running scans of the system, we realized all the orbital stations were gone. We were also unable to contact the Lunar One colony.
"With some… help from a friend, we learned what had happened. We managed to locate Captain Archer, who was missing on the war front."
"And what happened then?" he asked, too dazed by the story he was hearing to object any further.
"That was actually pretty simple sir," Trip said. "We got him out of the Nazi hospital camp and back aboard ship, and then our time traveling buddy got us all back here. The next thing we knew, you were on the horn congratulating us."
"Jon?" Forrest asked. "Do you have anything to add to this?"
It took Jon a moment to realize the admiral was waiting for him to speak. He hadn't had a chance to hear from the crew what they had done during the time he'd been gone, and amazed at the story he'd just heard, and more than a little impressed that T'Pol had managed to hold the crew together even when they learned that they weren't quite where they thought they were.
"I was on the surface the whole time Admiral," he said finally. "What little I do remember from between bouts of delirium wouldn't prove or disprove their story. I can tell you though that when I got to the bridge this morning, the satellites were gone… and then suddenly they were back."
"Okay then," the admiral said with a sigh. "I want you to delete all record of this from your logs. As much as possible, knowledge of this will be classified—I really don't want rumors getting around that you travel through time."
"Agreed, Admiral."
Jon looked at T'Pol and Trip, and then back at Forrest. "Admiral, there is one other thing I'd like to discuss with you."
"More war stories?" Forrest asked sarcastically.
"No sir, I would like to recommend a commendation for ever member of the crew… including those that didn't make it home."
Forrest smiled slightly; this was the Jonathan Archer he'd known before. "Of course," he said assuringly. "Their Star Fleet records will be updated to show their service to Earth."
Jon cocked his head slightly, saying, "Admiral, the MACO's aren't Star Fleet. They deserve recognition just as much as the rest of us."
Forrest nodded and said, "You're right Jon. I'll talk to their CO, make sure it gets taken care of us. All of you did Earth a credit, and we won't forget it."
"You don't know how important they were to us Admiral," Jon agreed. "In fact, I would suggest that Star Fleet begin training our security forces in similar tactics. I'd ask to keep the MACOs aboard, but I'm sure that's not a possibility. There's a lot they could teach us though."
"I'll take that under consideration. Now, unless anyone has anything to add…" He paused, and when they all shook their heads no he said, "Very well, you all are dismissed. Enjoy your leave."
"Thank you sir," they said in unison, filing out of the office.
"Well, what are your plans?" Trip asked as they walked down the corridor together.
"I have no plans. Do you know how good that feels?" Jon asked rhetorically. "I'm just going to spend the entire month doing whatever I feel like doing, as it strikes me. No plans, no agenda, nothing."
"You and me both," Trip agreed. "I'll probably go home for a while, see my folks and all. But beyond that, I have no clue what I'm going to do with a whole month off. I can't wait to figure it out though."
The two men grinned at each other, relishing the thought of real free time. "What about you T'Pol?" Jon asked then, realizing they were leaving her out of the conversation. "Do you have any plans for your vacation?"
"Vulcans do not take vacation, so I am unaccustomed with finding frivolous activity to fill my day," she said, her brow crinkling slightly in confusion. "I believe I will find a peaceful place where I can enjoy the woods, but beyond that I am not sure what I will do."
"Well, I'm sure you'll figure it out in a few days," Jon told her, smiling as touched her lightly on the shoulder. "I'll see you in a month, both of you," he said when they reached his corner.
When he got home, the injury in his side was pulling, reminding him that he'd promised Phlox—was that just this morning—to take things easy. Sore and bone tired, he stripped his uniform off and climbed into bed, not even bothering to set the alarm. "I'm on vacation," he told himself, "I don't have to get up."
It was dark and dank, he couldn't see anything but he could feel the cold, damp earth beneath his hands. Moving them over the surface, he wondered where exactly he was and why he was here. What was going on here? Why wasn't he in his quarters on Enterprise?
There were no answers to be found there, just more wet dirt. Getting up on his knees, he scooted around, trying to explore more. Gradually, his eyes adjusted to the light and he could see faint outlines of objects around him.
The first he saw was a warp coil. It was similar to the type made for Starfleet ships, but not identical. Staring at it for a moment, he realized what he was looking at.
"You have condemned us to wander in space." Whirling his head around to find the source of the disembodied voice, he found nothing.
"There's no one here," he told himself, willing his racing heart to slow. "It's just my imagination."
Other voices crowded into his head, voices of all the people he'd seen today, thanking him for saving them. Faces came into focus, and he recognized them one by one—members of the crew, the admiral, the man at the hot dog stand… they all stood before him, smiling broadly and thanking him.
Then he watched they slowly began to change. The smiles became malicious, the eyes hardened. The thank you turned from true gratitude to something else… "Now that we no longer live in fear," one said, "we will be to do whatever we want. Nothing will stop us from killing the Xindi."
He looked at all of them, horrified. "No, you don't understand," he pleaded. "We were saved so that Earth could progress as a society! Not so that we could take advantage of another race who has been used by others!"
But they didn't listen, instead laughing mockingly. "What a dreamer," Admiral Forrest said derisively. "I suppose you're going to tell me that the Xindi were free from all guilt? You have to make up your mind Jon, as we have made up ours…"
Moaning in pain, Jon closed his eyes, hoping it would block out what he was hearing as well. This was not what he had wanted, it was not the vision he'd had when he'd envisioned coming home. "How could they be so callus?" he murmured brokenly.
"You told me once that you cannot save humanity without holding onto what makes you human," another voice accused. " These people needed someone they could look up to, a hero, but instead they got you. What do have you done?"
Gasping, Jon opened his eyes, taking in the beach where he was. Shading his eyes against the sun, he followed the small figure of his dog running across the sand. After a few days in San Francisco, he'd gotten restless, missing the open feeling of space. He'd packed Porthos up and caught a transport, and they'd been parked here on a deserted stretch of beach for the last week.
Phlox had been right, he'd needed a lot of rest, but every time he slept, he dreamt the same dream. People he knew and loved, changing because of what he'd done… turning into… him.
So many times in the last year he'd been forced to do things he never would have done before. In fact, during his time in the hospital tent, he'd almost welcomed the thought that he was going to die. At least then he wouldn't have to live with what he'd done.
"But now I don't have that luxury," he thought wearily. "I can't escape the reality of my own misdeeds, I have to face them… and the feelings they bring with them."
He tried to bury the sense of inadequacy he felt. If Admiral Forrest knew what had happened, what he'd really done, he surely would have stripped him of his command. T'Pol knew, and she'd called him on it. Trip hadn't, but that didn't mean he hadn't wanted to. They'd had to watch him lose what made him human...
"Maybe I should just let Trip have T'Pol," he thought morosely. "At least he thinks he loves her… maybe he can take care of her and make her happy… I don't think I'd know how to do that anymore. There's too much in my past… she deserves better than me."
He'd had other thoughts while he was captured as well, things he wanted to do or say. Some of them he'd already been able to cross off his list—telling Hoshi how valuable she was had been a big one, and outside of his own quarters, there was nothing more he'd wanted to see than this sight—the sunset over the ocean.
But others… he'd had time to think about what he wanted, and the answer he'd come up with scared him. Living another day, seeing his friends, even being a starship captain had all paled in comparison to one thing: being with T'Pol.
He'd fought hard against the knowledge, afraid to admit that he wanted something that much, afraid that knowing what he wanted and that he'd never get it would be the one thing that could break him mentally. But the truth had been unavoidable, too real for him to ignore.
He'd managed to avoid putting a name on it, and he still took solace in that. He knew he wanted to pursue her though, knew it now just as he had a month ago when he'd first decided to do so. The only question was a matter of when…
Sighing, he rose to his feet, ready to play in the surf again. Porthos ran up beside him, eager to be with him and do whatever he was doing. The relaxation was wonderful, the beauty of the sun and surf were balms for his aching soul. He just didn't know if it would be enough.