Redemption
Chapter 2
Jonathan Archer pushed the door to the 602 club open with such force you'd have needed to be blind to be oblivious to his anger. He marched in and seated himself down at the bar, ordering a double vodka from Ruby. He hoped no one was brave enough to approach him because he wasn't in the mood.
"Here you go, Captain."
He poured the alcohol down his throat all in one go, slamming the shot glass down on the bar surface. "I'll have another."
Ruby filled the order, but was concerned about him — something was very wrong.
Working at the bar over the years she's picked up a sixth sense when it came to her customers. It was almost like being a shrink, only you listened to people's problems and served them drinks.
She'd known Jonathan Archer for many years — she'd witnessed his frustration with the Vulcans during the NX-Project and she'd seen him down beers to drown the misery of failed relationships or the loss of a promotion. Other times he'd indulged in a few shots of Jack Daniels just to relax. But she'd never known him to touch vodka.
"Wanna talk about it?" she offered as she passed him the second drink.
"Nope."
She didn't want to press him further, even though it would probably help him to get whatever was bothering him off his chest. But having extensive bar experience, she knew when not to push the customer beyond their limits, and Archer had a "Keep Out" sign plastered on his forehead. She left him for a moment and went to attend to another customer who'd just entered the premises.
Jonathan took the second shot of vodka, swung it back and swallowed. It burned in his oesophagus as it travelled down, warming his stomach. He hadn't eaten anything since before the de-briefing, so was already starting to feel a bit light-headed.
A pretty young blonde waitress came over to the bar area and started to fix her customers their orders. Jonathan looked her up and down — attractive, tall, long-legged with beautiful azure eyes. Her hair was golden and long, down to her shoulders but neatly tied up. She couldn't have been more than 24 years old and the resemblance to someone from his youth was striking.
"I'll have a double-vodka on the rocks," he told her.
She looked up from what she was doing. "I'll be with you in a minute, sir."
He didn't like having to wait, but bided his time. She kept her word and within a minute was back at the bar mixing his drink. "Here you go."
"I'm Jonathan," he slightly slurred, knocking back the third glass. When he'd walked into the bar he'd had no intention of speaking with anyone, save Ruby or any other waitress to order a drink. He couldn't understand why he was talking to this girl, except for the fact that she reminded him of a time long ago when he was innocent and unscathed.
"Yes I know," she smiled. "You're Captain Archer."
"No…not tonight. I'm just Jonathan." Even in a slightly intoxicated state he still hated being seen as the captain — the one who'd saved Earth. The hero worship was too much to stomach. He just wanted to be the ordinary guy sitting in the bar having a drink.
"Okay," she smiled. "Just Jonathan."
"And you?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Your name, what is it?"
"Maggie."
This was uncanny — both of them having the same name. He was flooded with memories of times past — happy times filled with laughter and love. What a naïve fool he'd been! He glanced up at her. She looked just like his Maggie, or at least what his Maggie had looked like 18 years ago. He had no idea what she looked like now, after refusing his proposal she'd left San Francisco and he'd never heard from her again.
"Jonathan, are you all right?" She noted he looked a little dazed.
"What?"
"I asked if you were okay. You look as if you're in another dimension."
"Oh…it's just I knew a Maggie once. Actually Margaret, but I called her Maggie. You remind me very much of her."
The young waitress was intrigued. She didn't have any orders to fill at the moment, so thought she'd try to find out more. Besides, she was talking to the man who'd just saved her planet — and he wasn't bad looking either.
"An ex-girlfriend?"
"My first love. I'm guessing she was just about your age when I asked her to marry me." He wasn't one to normally go around divulging such personal details but then again he wasn't accustomed to drinking vodka on an empty stomach. The drink seemed to have loosened his tongue.
"Did she accept?" As far as she knew the captain was not married, the news reports would have mentioned it. Perhaps he was a widower or divorced.
"No," he whispered. His reply was barely audible. "She refused me point blank, right outside her house for the whole street to hear. Imagine that?" He was about to reach for his glass when he remembered it was empty. "I'll have another," he said pointing to his empty glass, "…and make it another double." She nodded and poured him his drink, not knowing this was his 6th shot of vodka in the space of half an hour.
"I'm sorry," she said, knowing the words sounded hollow and empty.
"I guess it was for the best. I'm lousy husband material." He downed his drink.
"Don't be so hard on yourself."
"I'm being realistic. She did the right thing. It wouldn't have been fair to her. I'd never have been home — what kind of life would that have been for either of us? And now…well now I think she'd just be ashamed and disgusted with me."
The young waitress had no idea what the captain was babbling on about — all she knew about him was from the news reports which had been playing 24/7 since Enterprise's heroic return. He'd been hailed as the conquering hero, saving the Earth from the Xindi threat. The attention of the media spotlight over the last few days may have put a strain on him, and she sympathised. As for anyone feeling ashamed for knowing him, well she was clueless.
"I'll have another."
"I think you've had enough, Jonathan." She was concerned he might not be able to walk out of the 602 if he consumed any more.
"I'll be the judge of that."
"It's my job to look out for the customers. I'd be happy to get you a coffee or perhaps some mineral water?"
"I don't need anyone looking out for me. Can I have another drink…please?" His tone had an edge of impatience to it.
"You'll be grateful in the morning that you don't have a splitting headache to deal with. I'll get you a coffee…on the house."
"What are you, my damn mother?" He'd raised his voice to her causing the other patrons to look on. "I just want a drink!" He stood up off the bar stool. Now she reminded him of T'Pol — always telling him what to do or not do!
Ruby came over to see what the commotion was about. Jonathan Archer didn't make scenes or raise his voice, at least not to her knowledge. She'd been right earlier, something was very wrong, and it was obvious someone must have served him one too many drinks. She spied Maggie in Archer's vicinity and guessed her young waitress was the culprit, though she didn't blame her entirely. Maggie probably hadn't known that Ruby had served him earlier.
"Captain, why don't you sit down and I'll get you some coffee," Ruby whispered to him, gently getting ahold of his shoulders and trying to persuade him to sit back down.
He wouldn't sit down. "I don't want any coffee, Ruby. NO COFFEE! Do you people not speak English?"
"Captain, there's no need to shout."
"Fine. Just get me another vodka." He sat down, as he noticed a number of curious eyes staring at him.
"I'm afraid I can't allow that. You've had too much already as it is. Shall I get a taxi for you then?"
"You kicking me out, Ruby?" he asked, incredulous.
"I suggest you either have some coffee and sit quietly at the bar, or make a discreet exit and go home."
"So much for loyalty to old customers," he hissed between clenched teeth. "I won't forget this, Ruby." He stood up suddenly, the legs of the stool screeching across the floor as he did so. He made his way towards the exit. Women! Huh, they all thought they could tell you how to lead your life, what to eat, what to drink…well he wouldn't be coming back here anytime soon!
He felt dizzy as he walked and his stomach felt like he'd just come off the EV simulator at Lunaport. His legs were wobbly and felt as if they were going to buckle under him any second. He heard someone mention his name and make some snide comment about the fame going to his head. He glanced in the direction of the voice, and not looking where he was going slammed right into a waitress carrying a tray of beers.
The waitress lost her balance with her tray flying into mid-air. Both her and the captain were then drenched in a frothy foam and what was left of the beer while the floor became littered in pieces of shattered glass.
Jonathan offered his hand to help the girl up.
"I'm fine," she answered with annoyance, not accepting his help. "Why don't you look where you're going?"
"Sorry."
Ruby came over to inspect the mess and glared at Jonathan. "I think you've done quite enough tonight. I don't know what your problem is, but I suggest you get out of here." She spoke in a hushed tone that only he could hear.
"Okay, okay, I'm going," he muttered.
As he left the building the difference in temperature hit him. He didn't have a jacket and the cold night air made him shiver. It didn't help that he was soaked to the skin in beer. If he walked home now he'd probably catch his death. Then he remembered he didn't have any cash on him, so getting a taxi was out of the question. The drinks at the 602 had gone on his tab. He shrugged his shoulders and began walking.
It took him longer to get home than he'd anticipated. He'd been certain he only lived a couple blocks from Ruby's and had traversed this route many times over the years. It was probably his drunken condition that was slowing him down.
He was glad to see all the reporters around his building had gone home for the night as he walked up the steps and keyed in the entrance code. He just hoped they wouldn't be camped out there first thing in the morning. He then took the elevator up to the 12th floor, and strolled along the corridor to his door.
As he approached it he saw someone sitting on the floor, next to the door. As he got closer, he saw it was T'Pol.
"Captain, what happened to you?" she asked, getting up off the floor. The smell of beer coming from his wet uniform was very strong.
"Long story. Why are you here?" he asked with a puzzled expression painted on his face.
"We ended our conversation on an unsavoury note. I thought you'd give me a chance to explain."
He swiped his electric door card through the scanner and his front door opened. "Come on in then. I'm not going to leave you standing in the hallway."
It was obvious he was intoxicated, but at least he didn't seem as angry as he had been earlier in the conference room.
After he'd left the conference room, she'd sat there for well over 15 minutes, trying to work out what to do. She'd assumed he'd have gone home, so had decided to walk to his apartment. She knew it was several miles away, so had hoped by the time she arrived his anger might have subsided a little.
However, when she'd got here over an hour ago, he didn't answer the buzzer to his door at the main entrance. She'd been about to leave, when a young Starfleet officer punched in his own code. Seeing her standing there, he'd inquired who she was looking for. When she'd mentioned Captain Archer, the ensign had informed her he'd seen him drinking over at the 602 club. He'd let her in, and she'd sat in the corridor patiently awaiting his return.
Jonathan walked in and was immediately greeted by his furry friend, who was more than happy to see him.
"Careful, Porthos," he chided the dog, whom he'd almost stepped over. His head hurt and his stomach growled.
T'Pol walked in but was unsure what to do with herself. He hadn't asked her to sit down and he hadn't offered her a beverage as he'd often done on Enterprise if she'd come to his quarters.
She watched him walk over to his drinks cabinet and pour himself a glass of some darkish brown liquid.
"I heard you went to the 602 club."
"You heard correct," he replied after finishing his drink.
"You didn't have enough to drink there?"
"Oh God, not you as well." His tone was sarcastic. "If you're gonna stand here and tell me what I should and shouldn't drink, you can just let yourself out now, T'Pol."
"I apologize." Now was not the time to argue with him about how much alcohol he'd consumed. "Perhaps you should get out of those wet clothes?" she suggested.
Hmm…she was right. He was wet, sticky and uncomfortable. He'd have a shower and change in a moment. Before that, he'd have another drink. He lamented he didn't keep vodka in the apartment. He'd have to do with the whiskey in the decanter.
He gulped down the next drink. He was beginning to feel nauseous; mixing drinks was not a good idea.
"I'm gonna take a shower then," he announced and exited the living room, shutting his bedroom door behind him.
T'Pol decided to sit herself down on his sofa even though he hadn't invited her. She began to question her own judgement. Why had she come? He was obviously in no state to be talked to at present, though she hadn't been aware of that at the time. But even earlier in the conference room, when she'd tried to tell him what had been on the tip of her tongue for many months now, he'd been dismissive of her.
When he'd kissed her back she'd finally thought she was getting through to him — actions rather than words seemed to have more of an impact on him. But then when he'd pushed her away, she'd been completely startled. Her first thought had been maybe she'd misread him, that he didn't really care for her in that way, and that her own feelings were unrequited.
Then when she'd heard his accusations of experimentation and sleeping with Trip, she'd wanted to clear up the misunderstanding immediately — but he hadn't let her. It was obvious he'd more than listened to the gossip mongers on Enterprise about her and Commander Tucker. Of course they'd have found the truth far less interesting, and so had continued to spread their vicious lies.
Apart from providing the chief engineer with neuropressure sessions to aid in his sleeping, there'd been nothing between her and the commander. Well maybe nothing wasn't exactly the truth. They'd become better acquainted with one another and developed a friendly rapport. There had even been a time when she'd believed Tucker had had a crush on her, but was glad he'd never acted on it.
No, her feelings had always been for the Captain. It had saddened her deeply to watch him bit by bit pull away from her each day in the Expanse. Her hope had been that with the mission being over and their safe return to Earth the gap between them could be bridged.
Jonathan stepped out of the bedroom wearing a black bath robe and pyjama bottoms. He looked a little pale.
"Are you feeling ill?" she inquired. She wouldn't have been in the least surprised if he did.
"I vomited. Happy now?"
He padded over to the kitchen to get himself a glass of water. Realizing that he'd been pretty rude to his guest so far, he offered her one as well. She accepted.
He placed her water on the coffee table and seated himself across from her on the opposite sofa.
"You gonna spill it then, T'Pol, or do I have to wait all night?"
"I apologize if I offended you earlier in the conference room. However, I feel you misconstrued my motives."
"I did, huh?"
"I was concerned for your well-being."
"Really? How sweet."
Did he have to be so sarcastic? She acknowledged she wasn't going to get anywhere with him. Despite having emptied the contents of his stomach, his blood alcohol must still be high. In addition, his anger and frustration from the de-briefing with Soval probably only served to make his bad mood worse.
"I see I caught you at a bad time. I apologize." She got up from the sofa and walked towards the door.
"Leaving already?"
She turned around. "Captain, I think you've made it obvious this isn't a convenient time to talk." She heard him sigh heavily, then bury his face in his hands. Sighing again he got up and joined her at the door.
"Hmm…guess I really do have a lousy track record with women. They're always leaving me." His voice had changed; this was delivered in a hushed defeatist tone.
"I beg your pardon?" He wasn't making any sense. It was as if he was having a private conversation with someone else or himself that she was not privy to.
"Stay," he whispered, moving into her space. She could feel his breath on her neck.
Now she was really concerned. He was like two different people. Maybe he was ill. She touched his forehead with her hand but it didn't feel unusually hot.
He grabbed her hand and shoved her up against the wall. She was astonished at this sudden movement. "How does Trip kiss you? Does he make your blood burn, T'Pol? Does he make you breathless?"
"Jonathan—"
She couldn't finish what she was about to say as his lips were upon hers, hungry and demanding. His body crushed her against the wall. She wasn't frightened. She was much stronger than him, and if there was any thought of danger she could have easily pushed him away.
She wasn't thinking…her thought processes had come to a complete halt. Instead, all she could do was surrender to the feelings he evoked in her — strange, wondrous new feelings. Desires she'd never imagined.
As he broke for air, he whispered her name and something she couldn't quite make out. It sounded very much like "I love you" but she couldn't be sure, she felt dizzy from his kisses.
He kissed her again, this time more slowly, with care and tenderness. Then he moved over to her ear, taking the pointed tip in his mouth and gently nibbling on it. Pleased with his work so far, he travelled down her neck lavishing it with attention.
He then locked eyes with her, and she had the distinct impression it was if he was asking for her unspoken permission. She caressed his face, hoping that would be a sufficient answer. His eyelids had closed at her touch and she heard him sigh with pleasure at her touch.
The next moment she found herself hoisted into the air, and carried in his arms to his bedroom. Placing her on the bed, he slipped out of his bathrobe and returned to her side.
Her eyes roved over his muscular body — she'd always found his physique pleasurable. He had beautifully broad shoulders, shapely arms, a muscular chest, and a taut abdomen.
He leaned over her, starting to kiss her again. She decided she wanted to take control for a moment and with her strength was able to roll him beneath her. At first he seemed a little taken aback, but soon succumbed to the pleasure of her touch.
She experimented with kissing, learning the technique and what pleased him the most. Moving down his throat, she lightly nipped at his Adam's Apple. She then proceeded to leave featherlite kisses down his chest and stomach.
"T'Pol," he whispered hoarsely.
"I'm here," she answered, brushing his lips once more with hers. Gazing into his eyes she noticed something in them that hadn't been present earlier tonight. He looked so lost and vulnerable.
Suddenly she came to her senses and a notion of reality.
"What's wrong?" he asked, not sure why she'd stopped her ministrations.
She couldn't do this. It wasn't right — Jonathan was not of sound mind. She'd almost let this go too far, just because she'd become so entangled in his emotions and touch.
He'd consumed a fair amount of alcohol this evening, and that probably had a lot to do with why he'd kissed her as she'd attempted to leave. His first move had been almost aggressive and probably had been fuelled by his jealousy of her supposed affair with Trip.
If she'd allowed them to continue, who knows how he might have reacted in the light of day? If his reaction in the conference room was anything to go by, he'd probably have accused her of sexual harassment or taking advantage of him.
"I think you should get some sleep," she suggested, stroking his cheek. "We can talk in the morning."
"T'Pol, I don't understand."
"It's late, you've had a lot to drink. Things will be a lot clearer tomorrow."
She got up off the bed, but couldn't leave as he grabbed her hand.
"Don't go," he pleaded.
She decided she'd stay the night, but definitely not in the same bedroom. She was concerned for him, and didn't think it would be right to just leave him on his own in this state.
"I'm not. I'll be right next door."
"I don't understand," he repeated.
"You will…tomorrow. And you'll probably thank me." She encouraged him to get under the covers and get some sleep. He didn't protest much and she assumed the effects of the alcohol were obviously making him sleepy. For that she was at least grateful.
She walked into the living room, and checked a few cupboards to see if she could find a spare pillow and blanket to put on the bed that the sofa folded out into. She quickly found what she needed. Just before retiring, she checked on the captain.
She found him to be sound sleep.