Chapter 4:
Jon took a deep breath when he stepped off the shuttle onto the solid deck of his ship. "It's always good to be home," he thought, enjoying feeling the hum of the engines after a month of life on solid ground.
"It feels so good to be alive," he mused. "Even though I wasn't dead, it was almost like I was. I imagine I'll be seeing double takes from the crew for a while, they all thought I was dead for almost a week before they found me."
He could understand why T'Pol had chosen not to tell the majority of the crew that he was alive until he was back safe and sound—information from Daniels was scarcely reliable. However, it had been somewhat eerie walking down the corridor and seeing crewmembers look at him as if they'd seen a ghost.
Turning to catch his science officer's eye as followed him out of the shuttle, he waited for her to join him and then fell into easily into step with her. "So what did you do with your vacation, T'Pol?" he asked while they walked down the corridor toward their respective quarters.
"I spent a great deal of time in meditation," she told him, adjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder.
He grinned; somehow it didn't surprise him that she had spent her entire month off trying to clear herself of feeling. "I bet that felt good—getting rid of all the emotional residue that must come from living with humans."
"Yes, I did achieve a certain… clarity that has not been there for a while," she agreed. "How did you fill your time?" she asked politely, returning the question.
"Laid on the beach, got a sunburn, read several books…" The last note on the list reminded him of something. "Say, T'Pol," he said, leaning against his door. "There's something I've been meaning to ask you."
"Yes, Captain?"
He hesitated for a moment, not sure how to broach the question. He hadn't discussed his supposed death with anyone. "When I was… gone," he said finally, skirting the issue, "did you go in my quarters? I know you were in the ready room, so some of the things that were out of place in there make sense. But there were two or three things in my quarters that I know weren't where I left them. You and Malcolm are the only ones who could get into my quarters without my presence, and somehow I doubt he moved my books."
T'Pol nodded reluctantly, having the uncomfortable feeling of having been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. "Yes, I did. I apologize if I overstepped my bounds…"
"Nah, it's ok. You thought I was dead, protocol was kind of beside the point," he assured her with a wry grin. "I'm just curious, what made you go in?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow slightly.
She hesitated a moment before saying, "This is something we might not want to discuss in the middle of the corridor."
His curiosity piqued, Jon opened the door without a word and gestured for her to enter first. "Well?" he asked once she had taken a seat. "It sounds like there's a story here."
"When we were first informed of your death, I was… I sensed the loss. I…" She paused, the remembered emotions threatening to overwhelm her. "I desired something that had a connection with you, so I could… not lose you completely," she said, trying to explain something she didn't even understand herself.
"That sounds pretty emotional for a Vulcan," he tossed out, leaning back in his chair.
"You are right, it was," she agreed, knowing it was time to tell him.
"T'Pol? Are you going to tell me what's going on here?" he questioned. "You haven't been quite yourself for a while now. I didn't say much when I saw your hands trembling from fatigue and mental exhaustion after the fight near Azati Prime, or even when you broke the padd on my desk. But if I'm hearing you right, you just told me that you wanted one of my books because you… missed me?"
She flinched slightly at his quizzical tone, but nodded. "That is correct," she replied. "It seems the time has come for me to tell you something that happened to me while we were in the Expanse. I know it will shock you, but I need you to remain quiet while I give you my explanation, or… just please allow me to finish before you ask any questions."
Three years with this Vulcan had taught him many things, one of which was the fact that she doesn't fidget. "She sure is now though," he thought, watching with faint amusement while she shifted in her seat like 1000 fire ants had been dropped down her back. But the fact that her behavior was way outside the norm for her didn't escape him, and the concern he'd felt before was amplified. Suddenly he got the feeling that whatever she had to say, he wasn't going to like it. "Go ahead," he said apprehensively.
"You recall when I was exposed to the Trellium-D while we were on the Seleya," she began, folding her hands in her lap.
"Of course," he answered, instantly forgetting his vow to remain silent as he was assailed by images of his T'Pol being pulled under by emotions. The paranoia in her eyes had registered first, along with the fear he saw in her. She knew exactly what was happening to her, but she couldn't stop it.
"And after we learned it was the Trellium that had caused the reaction, we locked it away in cargo bay 2. No one had the codes to the lock except for you, Lieutenant Reed, and myself. It was clear we could not use it to shield the ship, not as long as I remained aboard. After much thought, I believed I had found a solution to that problem."
"T'Pol, tell me you didn't do what I think you did," he pleaded with her, the apprehension he'd felt before slowly turning to lead in the pit of his stomach.
She shot him a glare, saying, "Captain, please, I cannot do this if you keep interrupting me." She waited for his slight blush and nod of acquiescence before continuing. "I wanted the crew to be safe, so I did what you have already realized. I began taking small doses of Trellium-D, trying to build an immunity."
"T'Pol, that's just stupidity!" he exclaimed, rising quickly from his seat and pacing the floor in front of her. He looked down, expecting her to avoid his gaze and look apologetic, but she did not turn away. The unnamed fear he felt for her safety was shoved away, replaced by anger when she didn't appear at all remorseful. "Didn't you see how quickly your system began to react? Did you truly think it would be safe for you to take it at all?"
His anger surprised her slightly and she blinked slowly. "I thought that small doses would not affect me as much, although I have begun to wonder if that decision was made while still slightly under the effects of the Trellium. I can see now that it was not a logical conclusion, there is no other reason I would have made it."
Jon sat down hard on his bed and rested his head in his hands. "So let me get this straight," he offered, his words muffled. "You wanted to save us, and on some doped-up high, you thought the best way would be to put yourself in danger. Yeah, I'd have to agree—that wasn't very logical. Exactly how long did this continue?"
"Three months," she replied quietly, waiting for his reaction.
"Three months??" he exploded, his stomach turning sour. "You were still taking Trellium when I left you in charge of my ship after I flew down to Azati Prime? That's why you were so emotional, pleading with me not to go?"
He didn't want to hear her answer. In the last month of their mission, as Enterprise went through hell and back together, and when he'd been faced with the future possibility of a relationship and child between Trip and T'Pol, he'd consoled himself with the emotion she'd shown then. And now to be told it was all a reaction to a drug…
"That is why I expressed myself so freely," she admitted. "However, I would not have wanted you to die even if I had fully known what I was saying."
The words she thought would help cut more deeply than anything else she could have said. He knew she didn't want him to die, he knew their friendship extended that far. What he hadn't been willing to admit until now was that he wanted more than that from her, and that he felt more than that for her. Until now, he'd held a glimmer of hope that she might feel the same way, but apparently that wasn't the case.
Shoving away the pain, he asked, "That's why it was good for you to have a month to spend in meditation, wasn't it? You've still been struggling with emotions, and this gave you a chance to take them back."
T'Pol again blinked slowly in surprise, fighting back a different kind of fear—the fear of being vulnerable. No one else, not even Commander Tucker, could read her so easily. She watched closely as he stood up, looking for any sign that he would use this knowledge against her, but his expression was completely closed. "Yes," she said simply, hoping to end this line of questioning before he learned anything else about her.
"And now?" he asked, his voice tight and his posture rigid. "Are you back to normal? Do you feel able to take command of the ship if necessary?"
"I have always been able to command the ship," she replied, stung.
"The hell you have!" he retorted. "I saw you when you thought you were sending me off to my death; I saw you, T'Pol! At that moment, if someone had asked you to sell the crew off one by one, you would have done it in a heartbeat… if you thought it would save my life. At the time, I reminded myself that you were a Vulcan and would never do something that illogical, but you weren't logical then were you? You were driven by emotions. Emotions get people killed T'Pol, and I'll be damned if I'll let yours kill my crew. So I ask again: Are you able to command?"
"Yes, sir," she said formally, straightening almost to attention.
"Good. Then we don't need to talk about this anymore—ever. I expect to see you at your station tomorrow as usual," he told her, turning away from her.
She stared at his back, stunned and hurt by his reaction. "Good night Captain," she said quietly as she left the room.
"Good night, T'Pol, hello nightmare," Jon thought to himself, burying all thoughts he'd had of a closer relationship with his first officer. "Would I ever be sure that she was truly feeling something for me, or would I always wonder if it was just a by-product of the Trellium? I don't want a relationship clouded by doubt."
His thoughts then turned to Trip, and for the first time since learning of their relationship, he felt something other than jealousy toward his friend—pity. Pity that he too had been deceived, and worse than that, used. "At least I found out what before pursuing her," he muttered, absentmindedly pulling his clothes off. "Trip didn't have that luxury."
"Then again," he realized, pausing his motions with one foot in the air as he was yanking his boot off, "he's not even sure he really loves her anyway, so maybe he doesn't need pity."
"Either way," he said with a shrug, removing the boot and its companion and tossing them on the deck, "that answers all my questions about her feelings for me. They weren't real," he said bitterly, feeling again the stab of betrayal.
Ignoring the strange looks she was getting from passing crewmembers, T'Pol was still standing in the corridor outside his quarters, staring at the door. "That did not go as well as I had hoped," she thought. "However, it is understandable that he is upset. I did put the crew in danger, and I lied to him. I must not lie to him again, he deserves nothing less than the truth." Trying to push aside the dejection she felt at his reaction, she turned away.