AN: After reading some of the reviews for the last chapter, I felt I ought to clarify something. This story was written in its entirety last June--before S4 aired. It was intended to be a post-finale fic, and as such does not follow any of the events of season 4. Due to... several things, I didn't watch any of season4, so just pretend it didn't happen when you read this.

Chapter 12:

She wouldn't find out for several months. The brief moment of revelation came and went quietly for him, bringing with it none of the fanfare and pomp he would have expected. He was still in love with her. He would always be in love with her.

The question remained, what should he do about it? She'd been very clear that she wanted to regain her sense of self, her ability to do things without having someone else with her all the time. He could both understand and respect that.

In the meantime, he satisfied himself with simply becoming reacquainted with her, with getting to know the woman she was. After a few weeks of watching her read Les Miserables, he'd decided to reread it himself so they could talk about it together. The themes of corruption and redemption sparked many conversations, many starting with a simple question from T'Pol.

"I do not understand," she said one night, "why Fantine would place her child with this man, Jean Valjean. Did she not know he was a criminal?"

"Well… no, she didn't," Jon began, flipping rapidly to the section she was referring to. "But even if she had, it probably wouldn't have mattered to her."

"But how could it not?" she asked, perplexed. "I would not want my child to live with a man who had spent so many years in prison."

"Valjean had changed, T'Pol," he explained gently, seeing the concept was difficult for her to grasp. "He used to be a thief, but he became a good, decent man—one who was willing to give from what he had to help others."

"Is it possible for people to change that much?" she'd questioned skeptically.

"Look at the way he willingly helped the man get out from under the wagon," he said. "He knew Javert was watching, he knew that the officer believed no one but Valjean had the strength to lift the wagon the way he did, and yet he did it anyway, because it was the only way to save the man's life."

Her forehead had wrinkled up as she considered that, until finally, shaking her head in confusion, she'd gone back to reading.

A few nights later, the conversation had turned to the Thénardier family. "If Jean Valjean changed so much, how come Mr. Thénardier did not?" she asked.

"I suppose because Valjean had someone who needed the good in him," Jon said thoughtfully. "Cosette trusted in his goodness."

"But he was already good before even learning of Cosette. What changed him?"

"He had someone who believed he could change," Jon replied simply, hoping she heard the words he didn't say—he had believed she could recover from her addiction. Despite not acting like it at times, he had believed in it, and he was grateful that it had proven true.

She thought for a moment, then nodded. "The monsignor," she realized, falling silent again.

Slowly, pieces were starting to come together for her. Things she hadn't understood about humans were making sense, and she had a few personal questions for Jon.

Unfortunately, ship's business kept them going separate ways, and it was several weeks before they were able to share another evening in the lounge. By that time, she had long since finished reading Hugo's epic, and she was unsure if she wanted to ask her questions when she could no longer pretend they were about the book, and not herself.

Looking at her over his teacup, he realized she hadn't said anything since he'd walked in. Setting it down on the table, he asked her, "Do you have something on your mind?"

"No… Yes. I do have a few questions," she decided. "I was unsure if I should ask them, since in a way they relate to the book, but I have decided they are too important to go unasked."

"This sounds serious," he said, looking over at her.

"In a way," she agreed. "Our discussion of redemption and grace raised many questions in my mind. It is not a concept found on Vulcan," she explained.

"No, I can't imagine it is," he said wryly, trying to imagine Soval letting a thief walk out of his house with the silver candlesticks.

"It has made it difficult for me to accept it myself, particularly from you," she told him, watching his face intently.

"From me?" he asked, startled. "Why would you have trouble accepting forgiveness from me?"

"You are the highest authority figure," she explained simply. "Typically on Vulcan, the more authority one has, the less likely they are to be forgiving of faults, especially an inability to restrain one's emotions."

He caught an odd tone in her voice and narrowed his eyes, examining her features. "Why do I get the feeling you've got a specific incident in mind?" he asked.

"Perhaps because I do," she told him levelly.

"Which one, precisely?"

Refusing to bow to her fear, she kept her eyes on him, so she didn't miss the way he flinched when she said, "The moments directly before we kissed."

"Why did I know you were going to say that?" he muttered, letting his eyes drift shut for a moment to mentally prepare himself. "All right, what did you want to know?" he asked.

"If I had told you that I was not sure what I was feeling when I kissed you, that I needed more time to examine my emotions, would you have been upset?"

Startled, he looked up at her to see if she was serious. "She is," he realized, feeling his heart start to pound. He answered carefully, saying, "I would have been disappointed yes, but I would have appreciated your honesty, and I wouldn't have wanted to pressure you into something you didn't feel ready for."

"And what if I had told you it was an emotional response, one that I was not able to control?"

He grinned, saying, "A kiss is supposed to be an uncontrollable emotional response, T'Pol."

Instead of the quick retort he had expected, he watched in amazement as a pale green blush spread across her face. "I see," she murmured.

"May I ask a question now?" he requested. When she nodded her head, he said, "Are you saying that part of the reason you didn't come talk to me that morning was that you believed I would be upset with you for not controlling your emotions?"

She hesitated, then nodded. "You had already told me that I needed to keep my emotions under control," she reminded him, and he shook his head, wondering how many of their problems over the last year and a half had been caused by his runaway mouth, and not by her runaway emotions.

But maybe they still had a chance, after all. He was still hopelessly in love with her, he'd admitted that to himself weeks ago. Apparently, she had not been as indifferent to him as she had wanted him to think. If she still felt something, perhaps they were being given a second chance

"T'Pol," he asked hesitantly, "do you trust me enough to be completely honest, and vulnerable?"

She was momentarily surprised, but the answer came easily. "Yes Jonathan, I trust you."

"And you know I'm not going to get upset with you for being emotional?" he asked, needing to be sure.

"It may take me some time to fully accept that," she warned. "The old patterns are heavily engrained in me."

"But as long as you'll talk with me, I think we could make it work," he said, almost more to himself than to her.

"Make what work?" she asked, confused.

He ignored her question, still running over ideas and possible outcomes in his mind. The fear of rejection was still strong, and the self-preservation part of him wanted to run the other way and never think about being with her again. But a larger part of him realized that though he might be safer without her, he would never be happy. "Yeah…" He picked up his cup, staring into the swirling pale green liquid as he gathered his thoughts. "T'Pol," he said hesitantly, "You know that your friendship is very important to me."

"And yours to me," she replied warmly.

"Thanks," he told her, flashing her a quick smile. "But… the thing is, I sometimes find myself wondering if we could have more than friendship."

He stared at her intently, willing her to say something—anything. She looked at him speculatively for a moment before moving to watch the stars. "I have noticed a certain pull between us," she admitted quietly.

"Good, you feel it too," he said, letting out a breath. The hardest part was over.

"But I am not certain it would be wise to pursue it," she countered, quickly deflating his feeling of relief. "Our races are so different, we are so different. Would we be able to have a solid relationship?"

"T'Pol, I think it's our differences that would make it work," he said, rising to join her. "We're not complete opposites, we complement each other. Our strengths and weaknesses balance out… we make a good team."

When she didn't answer him for a moment, he got worried. "You do feel something for me, don't you?" he asked.

"Yes Jonathan, I do. I simply do not know…"

"We'll take it slow," he interrupted. "I want to do this the right way."

"I was not aware there was a right or wrong speed in relationships," she said, her brow crinkling.

"The right speed is the one where both people feel comfortable," he said softly. "Would that work for you?"

Grateful that the ball was in her court, she simply nodded.

"Besides, I think I'd rather see if there's something between us than to spend my whole life wondering what if," he told her.

"There is no logic in dwelling on what did not happen," she said automatically, placing her hand on the glass.

"No, there's not," he agreed quietly, lifting his own hand to trace the outline of her fingers on the window. "And there's no logic in avoiding a possible course of action simply because you don't know what it will bring either," he reminded her.

"On that, we are in agreement," she said, her voice equally soft.

"Then shall we try this, see where it goes?" he asked, holding his breath.

"No." Before he could object, she faced him, placing one hand on his chest, open palm, in a gesture for him to wait. "I do not want to play with emotions like that again Jonathan," she told him. "If I enter another relationship, it will be with much greater purpose than that. Trying emotions out just to see what happens is dangerous and often has disastrous results, at least in my experience."

"Then what do you suggest?"

"I appreciated what you said earlier about moving slowly. There are clearly emotions between us, and I would like to consider the possibilities in them… but the risk of getting hurt or hurting someone again is not pleasant. Moving slowly and with purpose should minimize that risk, should it not?"

"It might," he allowed, a small smile creeping across his face. "Does that mean you're saying yes?"

"It means that I am willing to explore a relationship with you, Jonathan Archer," she said, her voice firm and her expression clear.