Chapter 8:
"Well Cap'n, that was a fine breakfast," Trip said, pushing back from the table. "I guess it's time to head to the salt mines though. Are you comin'?" he asked as he stood up, glancing down at Jon and catching him staring at the door.
"What? Oh… no, I think I'll have another cup of coffee," Jon said, gesturing with his cup, forgetting that it was still mostly full.
"You all right Cap'n?" Trip asked, watching with a look of confusion as Jon wiped up the coffee he'd spilled on the table.
"I'll be fine Trip," he assure him, shooting him a quick grin. "I guess I need that coffee more than I though I did though," he quipped, garnering a quick laugh from his friend.
"All right then, I'll see you for lunch," Trip promised, still laughing as he walked out.
Jon laughed with him, but as soon as the door shut all sounds of merriment disappeared. "Where is she?" he wondered, worried for a moment that she was ill. If she were anyone else, or if the situation was different, he would simply assume that she had slept in. But she had been just as eager to talk about their relationship as he had been…
"She must be coming, maybe she's just running behind," he muttered, looking at the door again. "She'll walk in here any minute and tease me for being so paranoid."
However, when he had waited ten more minutes and she still hadn't appeared, he was forced to admit that she wasn't going to come. Slowly standing from the table, he resolved to put it out of his mind on the bridge so he could get some work done.
By the end of the day, the doubts he'd felt creeping up into his mind had been shoved aside. T'Pol had been nothing but professional all day, but he'd expected nothing less from her. "We can talk about it tonight over dinner," he told himself as he entered his quarters, changing quickly into casual attire.
Two hours later, it became clear that that too was a false hope. His dinner had come and gone, the stewards were gone for the evening, and not only had she not come in to join him, but he'd eaten completely alone. Trip hadn't joined him either, so his meal had been a lonely one.
Now he needed to know what was going on. The unease growing in the pit of his stomach refused to be ignored any longer, despite his best efforts to convince himself that nothing was wrong. Instead of going straight back to his quarters, he went to hers instead, hoping to catch her so they could talk.
He started to push the chime, then realized that his palms were sweaty, like a teenagers on a first date. Grimacing his distaste, he wiped them on the side of his pants and proceeded. A few seconds later, when he got no response, he frowned and tried again, holding the button for a little longer than necessary this time. Still no answer.
Facts were adding up in his head in a way he didn't like, but he refused to jump to conclusions. He'd had enough experience to know that half the time they were wrong, and that couldn't do anything but damage the relationship he wanted to build with her.
"She is avoiding me though," his mind insisted. "There's no way all of this is just coincidence, especially when it had been her suggestion to meet for breakfast."
Well, there was one place she couldn't avoid him. As much as he loathed using his position to deal with their relationship, being captain had some perks… and he wasn't above using them. "I'll just have to talk to her in my ready room," he resolved firmly.
He was almost to his cabin when he saw a quick flash of color out of the corner of his eye. Following it down the corridor, what he saw ripped his heart out. The color that had caught his eye was one of Trip's bright shirts… and the engineer had his arm resting snugly around the waist of a woman who could only be T'Pol.
Slowly, ever so slowly, he keyed in his entry code and walked into his quarters. With painful deliberation, he removed every article of clothing from his body and drifted into the bathroom, turning the shower on as hot as he could stand it.
It only took a few seconds of the water beating on his back to allow his tears to come. Little things he'd seen in the last 24 hours flashed across his memory, starting with her confusion and fear as she'd almost ran from his quarters the night before and ending with his best friend's arm wrapped around the woman he loved.
Oh yes, there had been other clues, he realized bitterly, seeing everything clearly now. The way Trip was grinning from ear to ear at breakfast this morning, like the cat in the cream. Or how every time he'd looked up at her today, her gaze had skittered away.
"There were clues all right," he muttered, seeking anger as a solace. "I was just too damn in love with her to see them."
Well, if this was what she wanted, he wouldn't stop her. He loved her too much for that too. He did feel like he deserved an answer though, so the next morning he followed through on his original plan, even though the reasoning had changed.
"T'Pol, could you please join me in my ready room?" he requested the instant she stepped onto the bridge.
He kept his tone polite and his features carefully blank until the door shut behind them, not wanting gossip to begin circling about their relationship. But once they were safe from all prying eyes and ears, the mask dropped and he let her see the anger he still carried about like a shield.
"I waited for you yesterday morning," he said, his voice deceptively mild. "You never came."
"I was… unable to make it," she said, shifting slightly under his intense stare.
"I see. I was hoping that maybe we could talk after dinner, but you didn't come then either," he continued.
"I chose to eat in my quarters."
"Funny thing, Trip didn't come to dinner either," he commented, almost nonchalantly, catching the way she flinched against her words. He waited for her to come clean, and when she didn't, his anger grew even more. "Are you going to tell me what the hell is going on here T'Pol?" he demanded, all traces of calm disappeared.
"I have decided that what happened the other night was a… mistake," she stated baldly, looking him in the eye and challenging him to disagree with her.
"You want to think it's a mistake, that's fine by me," he replied bitterly. "But next time, just tell a guy first before he sees you all cozied up with his best friend right outside of his own quarters, okay? Twist the knife a little softer, why don't you?"
A picture of what must have happened the night before slowly appeared to T'Pol, and she blanched slightly from the emotion it drew. She saw him, reaching his quarters just as she and Trip had walked past. She saw Trip's arm around her waist, and her leaning slightly into his embrace as they continued down the hall, laughing slightly with each other at the mutual enjoyment they shared.
In perfect, living, color she saw every detail, and she could see in his face how much it hurt him. "Jonathan…"
"Don't call me that," he ordered, almost violently, shaking from the pain he felt hearing her speak his name again.
She reeled back in surprise, finding that the human soul had yet another depth of emotion she was unaware of. "I am sorry," she said softly, feeling her heart ache for him and yet still not knowing what to do about it.
He sighed, turning away from her in a vain attempt to conceal the emotion she had already seen. "I know you are," he admitted. "I know you well enough to know that you didn't intend to play the two of us off each other, and I know that whatever you felt the other night was just as real as what I felt. But…"
He paused, turning back so she could see how much he meant what he was about to say. "I don't know if I can ever forgive you," he told her in a low voice.
The sudden, sharp rush of pain came out of nowhere. "I see," she said, managing to curb all the emotional responses she wanted to give. "May I be excused sir? I need to see to my duties."
"Yes."
He stared at her back as she moved toward the door, remembering one other thing that needed to be said. "T'Pol."
She stopped when she heard her name, but did not turn. Her emotions were hidden well enough that the rest of the crew would not see them, but this man knew her too well.
When he saw that he had her attention, he said, "We won't talk about this again."
The finality of the words and tone was a vicious assault on her control. Taking a deep breath to stop all the things she wanted to say, she nodded slightly and stepped onto the bridge.
Her mind told her that it was his pain speaking, that if she had been hurt the way he had been, that she would be saying the same things. Her mind knew that, but her heart did not. Feeling an aching void where his friendship had been, all her heart knew was the injustice of what he was saying.
"That is not fair!" her heart cried as she took her usual spot standing directly behind the captain's chair. "He did not even give me a chance to explain! He does not know this is truly for his benefit."
She paused for a moment, remembering the pain she had seen in his eyes, letting it wash over her and mingle with her own. "These emotions, this pain… it is almost too much," she realized, gasping mentally from the weight of it. "Perhaps I am not being fair to him either, perhaps he could not let himself listen to my reasons, perhaps hearing anything from me would have hurt even more."
All this was a silent exchange with herself. What the crew saw when she joined them was a calm, rational Vulcan. They did not see the passion bubbling under the surface, or the pain lurking in her eyes. They did not see, for they did not know the emotions she carried inside her.
There was one who did however, and when he left his ready room, he could feel the pain and confusion rolling off of her in waves. It was there, and he knew why it was there, but he could not do anything about it. Knowing that she was hurting and knowing that he was part of the reason intensified his own anguish.
He met her eyes briefly, just long enough for her to see that he had felt what she was feeling. Knowing that he knew was enough for her; explanations would not help today, they might never help. Being understood was all she could hope for, and it was more than she deserved. Tamping down her heart ache, she strove for a calm that had not been with her for weeks.
He watched out of the corner of his eye as she pulled strength from somewhere deep inside herself and managed to lay all the hurt aside to do her job, and let him do his. Once again, he was amazed at her capacity for dealing with intense emotion, and he mourned the fact that she had not been able to deal with what she had felt during the kiss.
For somehow, he sensed that was what had happened. He had felt her response for a brief instant, and then she had fled. Whether the emotions had confused her or frightened her he did not know, but the result was the same. She had run, seeking something safer, something more familiar.
He smiled slightly, a tense smile that does nothing to hide the true emotion inside. Maybe he should feel better, knowing that she had sought Trip not because her feelings for him were stronger or more real, but because they were safe.
Shaking his head, he realized he was not ready to be that forgiving yet. Someday he might be, but not today. Today all he could know, all he could feel, was that she had left his side and gone directly to another man. The fact that it was his best friend only intensified the feeling of betrayal.
Betrayal. What right did he have to feel that? There had been no promises made, no commitments created. All he had was the pledge his heart had made to her, and the knowledge that there would be no other woman for him. That was all, but that was enough.
The instant her lips had met his, his heart had taken the one gesture to mean a whole host of emotions on her part. He had credited her with feelings she had not claimed and had made promises in her name that she had not stated. Despite the fact that it had all apparently been in his imagination, those promises had been broken and the sense of betrayal would not go away, no matter how many times he told himself it was illogical.
But now that the air between them was clear, he could begin the work of repairing his life and his heart. It was time to put her out of his mind, to let go of the feelings he had held so close for so long. Nothing would ever come of them, and no good could come from hanging onto them when he knew they were not returned.
It would take time, but he could return to the man he was when Enterprise first launched. He could again be the captain who was married to his ship, who did not feel the need for love and marriage. Another shattered relationship on his record just proved that those things were not in the cards for him.
For now, he would shove aside the deeply felt truth that he wanted those things, that he had wanted them for a while now, and that he wanted them with her. He would deny those things to himself, pretend that they did not exist. He would force himself to be content with only what he had, and perhaps someday, he would forget he had ever wanted anything else.
Until then, he would ignore the stab of pain he felt every time he saw her, the answering hurt he had seen in her eyes. Feeling sympathy for her, feeling anything for her, it was too dangerous. It would have to stop. And until it did, he would simply pretend it had.