Redemption

Chapter 3

After waking up with the mother of all hangovers, Jonathan promised himself he'd never touch vodka again. For that matter, he vowed not to mix drinks ever again either; vodka and whiskey were a bad recipe for his head and stomach.

Hauling himself out of bed, he went to the mirror and studied his reflection. His hair was askew, his eyes were slightly bloodshot, he had dark circles under his eyes, and he generally looked like hell.

"Rough night I guess," he muttered to himself, trying to rack his brain for some semblance of memory from last night — most of it was a blur. He had a vague recollection of kissing T'Pol but dismissed that as another one of the many dreams he'd had about his first officer.

No, he thought, the kiss in the conference center hadn't been a dream…that was real. And he'd been mad at her — that he remembered. This other image he had was of them both in this apartment.

He shrugged it off, definitely a dream.

Slipping on his bathrobe, he opened the door to the living room and walked in the direction of the kitchen to get some orange juice. He stopped short as he found T'Pol in his kitchen, making breakfast.

"Good morning, Captain."

"Oh my God, it wasn't a dream was it?"

What had he done? The memory became clearer and he saw himself shoving T'Pol against the wall with force and kissing her. Then he'd carried her into his bedroom. The rest was hazy. Had he…? Had they…?

"How much do you remember?" she asked.

"Umm…I'm not sure," he sheepishly replied. "Did I hurt you in any way?" he asked. He had to make sure.

"No, Jonathan."

Hmm…she was calling him by his first name — did that mean they'd been intimate?

He didn't know what to think. He tried to piece the puzzle together in his head. He remembered her coming to see him in the conference room then he'd hastily departed in a flurry of anger. Then he'd gone to the 602 and got himself very drunk, after which he'd returned here and found her waiting for him. She'd tried to talk to him, but he'd been intent on getting himself drunker still.

After the first glass of whiskey his memory was less clear. It went totally blank after carrying her into the bedroom. If something had happened between them…God he hoped she would say that he'd passed out or something before anything serious had transpired. He felt awkward and uncomfortable.

"I just wanted to get some juice," he said as he opened the fridge door and took out the right carton. Taking a glass from one of the cupboards he poured the juice into it.

"Breakfast will be ready in a minute," she informed him.

Why was she here cooking breakfast? Did she feel obliged? He wanted to know the truth, but part of him was terrified.

He glanced at the stove and noted she was making scrambled eggs.

"T'Pol, the smell must be intolerable for you. Let me finish."

"It is of no consequence. I took my nasal inhibitor this morning."

"Oh…right."

"Why don't you sit down?" she suggested.

He pulled up one of the high kitchen stools and sat down. "Since when do you know how to prepare eggs?" He decided he wasn't ready for any serious conversation with his pounding head, so tried to keep their dialogue casual.

"It's nothing fancy like Eggs Benedict. It's only scrambled eggs. I found this book lying on the counter entitled "Simple Meals for the Bachelor" and it explains in detail how to make even the simplest of dishes."

"I see." He thought he'd thrown that book away years ago. It had been a gift from Rebecca.

Once the eggs were ready she served them on a plate along with some toast.

"Thanks. But what are you gonna eat?"

"I'm not hungry."

"You mean there's nothing around that you find edible?"

"I made myself some mint tea when I got up. I'm fine."

He felt bad that he had nothing to offer her, but he hadn't expected guests. "Why don't you at least have a piece of toast?"

She could tell he was anxious for her well-being so acquiesced even though she had no appetite this morning.

She sat down with him, nibbling on her dried toast — she didn't want any butter or jam on it.

"These are really good, T'Pol," he said, referring to the eggs. For a first timer she wasn't a bad cook.

"I'm pleased. How is your stomach?"

"My stomach? Oh yeah, I was feeling nauseous last night. It's better." He paused, and then decided to get it over and done with. He had to know what happened. "Listen, about last night…"

"Yes?"

"Well I was very drunk—"

"I observed that."

"T'Pol, I want to apologize for my behaviour."

"There's nothing to apologize for."

"There isn't?" He was confused.

"Well I know my memory is pretty foggy, but I do remember being rather…umm…forceful with you when you tried to leave."

"Oh that…do not concern yourself."

"My behaviour didn't bother you?" he asked, surprised.

"If anything bothered me…it was your behaviour in the conference room yesterday. In addition I'm concerned with your need to get drunk to deal with whatever was bothering you in the conference room to begin with."

"Look I'm sorry. I know I acted like an ass yesterday. I was very rude to you. But before we go into that…maybe you could do me a favour."

"Yes?"

"Could you put me out of my misery and tell me what happened last night?"

She raised an eyebrow in response wondering how much he really did remember. She hoped nothing more than the kiss in his living room. She did not want to admit to what had gone on in the bedroom before she'd finally stopped herself.

"If you are worried that we had sexual relations, we didn't," she announced in a deadpan voice.

"Oh…right…umm…good."

He gulped down his juice, averting her eyes. Since coming face to face with her in his kitchen making his breakfast, he'd feared hearing that he'd been drunk and slept with his first officer with no recollection of said event. That wasn't the way he'd ever wanted it to be. He didn't have one night stands — he wasn't that kind of guy. And while he'd had plenty of fantasies that involved making love to T'Pol, in his imagination they'd always been sober and acting mutually on their feelings.

So this was good news…he was relieved, but still a tad confused. "Okay, so what exactly did happen?"

"We kissed in the living room, but once we got to the bedroom, the drink took over and you fell asleep." It was a white lie and she wasn't happy about explaining it this way, but she felt ashamed at her own actions. She'd almost taken advantage of him when he hadn't had full use of his faculties.

"I fell asleep? Hmm…guess it was for the best then."

"Yes."

While part of him was extremely relieved to hear T'Pol's retelling of the previous evening's events, it was hard to believe that he'd just fallen asleep like that when he'd had the most beautiful woman in the universe in this arms. Hmm…guess I can't hold my liquor anymore, he thought.

He finished up his eggs and poured himself another glass of juice. "T'Pol, what if I hadn't been drunk?" he asked, as a random thought popped into his head.

"What do you mean?"

Hmm…this was an embarrassing question, maybe he shouldn't ask. But he was confused and sought clarity. Yesterday she'd kissed him in the conference room, then when he'd kissed her last night in his apartment she'd seemed receptive.

"I mean what would have happened…last night…between us…you know if I'd been sober?"

"Oh." She looked down, staring at the crumbs on her plate. Suddenly they'd become rather interesting. She couldn't face him right now. Her cheeks felt warm and she knew she was blushing.

Unsure how to answer that question, or more to the point, not wanting to answer the question she got up to make herself another hot tea. Her courage seemed to have forsaken her. Yesterday she'd wanted nothing more than to divulge her feelings to him, this morning it seemed an impossible task.

"I'm making some mint tea, would you like some?" she asked, as she poured water into the electric kettle.

Jonathan got up from the table, and walked over to her, taking the kettle out of her hands.

"Forget the tea for the moment, I'd like an answer."

"I don't know what to say," she answered, her eyes focused on the kettle.

"How about the truth?" he asked in a gentle tone.

There was no response. "T'Pol," he lifted her chin so he could look into her eyes to try and ascertain what was going on. "I'm puzzled by what's gone on between us in the last 24 hours. You wanted to talk to me about it in the conference room before I walked off."

"You did not wish to listen."

"Yes, I'm sorry. I acted badly. I was completely thrown by your actions. They were so unlike you. Would you be willing to talk to me about this now?"

"Will you listen without getting angry and accusing me of things I haven't done?"

Accusing her of things she hadn't done? Ah yes. His reaction to her kiss had been yelling at her about Trip and suggesting she was using him and the commander as some kind of experiment. He'd flipped out because he'd been so mad with Soval and how the debriefing had gone. Instead of just accepting T'Pol's affections, he'd had a knee jerk reaction — allowing old prejudices to surface: Vulcans couldn't be trusted and they were deceitful.

He hadn't even considered the possibility that T'Pol might genuinely care for him. He'd been force fed the rumours about her and Trip for months to the point that he'd begun to believe they were the gospel truth. It had made no sense for her to have feelings for him, as he'd been convinced she was in a relationship with Trip.

"Yes, I'll listen," he promised.

"May I make some tea first?"

He nodded and told her he'd like a cup. While the kettle boiled, he removed their dirty dishes from the counter top, and put them in the dishwasher. T'Pol poured the boiling water into two mugs and carried them out to the living room coffee table.

She sat across from him. "I'd wait for it to cool a bit," she suggested as she saw him reach for his mug.

"Yeah, good idea."

"I came looking for you yesterday because I wanted to speak to you in private on a personal matter. It seemed like the first opportunity where we could actually talk alone since the end of the mission. I knew how busy you'd been and with your new found fame you'd become everyone's favourite person. I'd hoped to meet with you after the debriefing but by the time I arrived, only Soval was left. I asked him where you were and he said you'd gone with Forrest to his office."

"Right."

"The Ambassador then told me a little of what had happened during the debriefing. He couldn't understand why I chose to serve under such a hot-headed, irresponsible man. I didn't want to have a lengthy discussion with him at the time, so basically I told him I didn't regret my decision to enter the Expanse with you or the rest of the crew. I also informed him that with your help, I'd be joining Starfleet. He didn't seem very pleased at that information and commented about how I'd once been such a promising member of his own team when I'd been stationed on Earth at the Vulcan compound."

She took a breath and reached for her mint tea. It was still steaming, so she blew on it a little.

"I left Soval and went to Admiral Forrest's office, hoping to find you there. I knocked and the admiral bid me enter. Apparently I'd just missed you by about two minutes. I asked him if he knew where you were, and he said no, only that you'd left in a rage and he'd ordered you to take some time off. My next stop was your apartment, but you weren't home. It was dusk by this time."

"I stayed at Starfleet," Jonathan told her.

"Well that finally dawned on me. So I travelled back to Starfleet HQ, asking a few ensigns on entering if they'd seen you. One said they'd spotted you about an hour ago on the third floor heading towards the conference room. I decided to check it out and that's where I found you."

T'Pol was giving him a lot of facts, but still no actual reason as to why she'd wanted to see him yesterday. He wished she'd get to the point.

"So what's this personal matter you had to see me about?"

Something about his tone made her feel uneasy. Was he getting impatient? When he'd got up from the table and stopped her making the tea, asking her to explain what was going on, she'd hoped he'd be patient and just listen to her explanation. Now she felt uncertain if she should speak her heart.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

"I'm waiting for an answer. I've asked you two questions, neither one of which you've answered. What's the problem?"

"You said you wouldn't get angry."

"I'm not angry, T'Pol."

"Your tone of voice is irritable."

He rolled his eyes at that comment. He just wanted her to get to the point. His hangover probably wasn't helping matters. Maybe a shower would help.

"I think I better get showered and dressed. I'll be back in about ten minutes. Is that okay with you?"

"Yes."

As she waited T'Pol attempted to rehearse in her head what she'd planned on telling him, but it wasn't easy. His constantly changing moods made it difficult to predict what his reaction might be, and she had no real idea as to his own feelings. One moment he seemed reasonable and the next irritable and short with her. She didn't want a repeat of what happened in the conference room yesterday.

She'd tried to tell him something the day he'd appeared on the Bridge after transporting from Earth with Alicia Travers. She'd been lost for words at the sight of him, happiness breaking over her like a wave at the evidence before her: he was alive and well.

She'd almost felt what could have been described as a pang of jealousy as she'd seen Ensign Sato hug him and the captain heartily return the gesture. But then Hoshi could get away with such things, the captain had always treated her like a younger sister and everyone amongst the crew knew he had a soft spot for her.

They'd had a brief conversation in the corridor, she'd updated him on what he'd missed and shown him to Sickbay where a dying Daniels awaited. There'd been no other opportunity that day to be alone with him.

So finding him alone in the conference room yesterday evening had really been the first chance for her to speak to him. Added to that, after hearing from both Soval and Forrest about how infuriated he was after the debriefing, she'd wanted to comfort him.

Now she didn't know what he wanted. In his drunken state last night he'd asked her not to leave, but who'd really been speaking — him or the alcohol? She felt uncertain. The more she thought about it, the more it seemed prudent to leave things as they were and not change the status quo between them.

She heard the shower still running and decided to leave before he came back. Unlocking the door and gently shutting it behind her, she made her way along the corridor to the elevator and back to her hotel where she'd been assigned accommodation while Enterprise was being repaired.

Jonathan slipped on a sweatshirt and a pair of jeans and returned to the living room.

"T'Pol?"

The room was empty except for Porthos who was asleep in his basket. Maybe she'd gone to the guest bathroom. He knocked on it and then tried the knob. The bathroom was empty. He called her name again but knew it was fruitless. The apartment wasn't that large; there wasn't anywhere for her to hide.

He checked his front door and noticed it was slightly ajar. Opening it he stared down the corridor to see if there was any sign of her: nothing. So she'd left, chickened out. Whatever she'd wanted to say, she wasn't gonna say it after all.

Hell, he might as well get used to it. Or wasn't he used to it already? Women — all women ended up leaving him for one reason or another. It was just something he anticipated. Maybe he'd been too impatient and not understanding enough. She'd obviously wanted to tell him something.

He shut his door returning to his apartment and sighed. Leaning against the door he rubbed his aching temples.

Porthos' head perked up at the sound of the door closing. "Wanna go for a walk?" Jonathan offered. Perhaps some fresh air would alleviate his headache. The pup barked wildly with enthusiasm. Jonathan knew that meant yes.

TBC