Redemption

Chapter 9

T'Pol walked down the stairs with her suitcases and checked out of the hotel. The clerk at the desk said he'd get her a taxi.

The driver dropped her outside Jonathan's apartment building and she made her way inside and up to his abode. She was a little early — it was only 8:45am, but she assumed he'd be up.

She waited about a minute and was about to press the buzzer again when she heard the door being opened.

He wasn't dressed. He had a towel hanging over his bare shoulder with another towel wrapped around his waist. Shaving cream was all over his face.

"Running late?" she enquired, raising an eyebrow at his appearance.

"Mmm…kinda, but your 15 minutes early."

She walked in and he closed the door behind her. "I thought Rebecca was picking you up in 45 minutes."

"Oh I'll be ready by then," he answered.

"I see."

"Why don't you sit down, I'll just finish shaving and be with you in a minute."

"Of course," she acquiesced.

Five minutes later he reappeared. He gave her the electronic door key and explained a few things about the apartment, such as the plants that needed watering, the heating etc. He showed her where he kept all of Porthos' stuff — his food, leash and a few toys.

"I know this probably sounds a bit crazy, but would you mind talking to him now and then? He's used to the sound of someone's voice, he might miss it if—"

"Yes Jonathan, I'll talk to him, feed him and walk him — you need not be concerned."

"Thanks, I appreciate it," he smiled, closing the door to the cabinet where he kept Porthos' stuff in the kitchen.

"How are you feeling today?" she asked, pulling up a stool at the kitchen table.

"Not too bad," he responded sitting across from her. "Did you want some mint tea?" he asked, knowing it was her favourite beverage.

"No thank you," she replied. "So, no more confusing thoughts today?"

"T'Pol, why don't we just let that lie, okay?" He hoped she didn't want to pick a fight.

"You were upset yesterday and racked with guilt. I find it hard to believe that the prospect of a trip to Fiji would suddenly erase all that."

"I didn't say it had," he said, sounding a little agitated. "Maybe Forrest is right, a vacation might do me some good — clear my head."

She didn't answer but her expression indicated she thought he was fooling himself.

"You disagree with Admiral Forrest's suggestion?" Once he'd asked the question he wished he'd kept his mouth shut. Sometimes he spoke before he thought.

"His orders were to go to Fiji with Rebecca?"

He rolled his eyes. "T'Pol, you know they weren't — do you have to be so literal?"

Her tone was bitter — she was obviously still hurt. And why wouldn't she be? He imagined how he'd feel if she'd been about to leave for two weeks with Trip on some tropical island. He'd be consumed with jealousy. Part of him wished he could just tell her the damn truth — he loved her and wanted to be with her. But it wasn't fair — she deserved better and if she really cared about him like she claimed then if he confessed his true feelings she'd probably tell him they could work this all out together. He wouldn't let her make that sacrifice. "I know the Admiral relieved you of duty and instructed you to clear your head. In a round about way I suppose that could be interpreted as going on vacation. But if you go and try to sweep all your feelings under a proverbial rug, I don't believe your time away will serve any purpose at all."

That's exactly what he had planned to do — he wanted a distraction and he hoped Rebecca would keep him busy enough so he wouldn't have to think about what went on in the Expanse…and the Illyrians. But he knew she was right — maybe he should go back to his bedroom, unpack his bags and make an appointment to see the local shrink at Starfleet Medical. No…he wasn't ready for that yet. He wanted to sit on a beach and relax in the sun, or swim in the warm Pacific waters, or visit all the local sights. Distraction — yes, that's all he could deal with right now. The rest…well that would be waiting for him when he returned. Once he was rested he might be able to deal with all of it better.

"I'll get a tan," he answered lightly.

"Excuse me?"

"You said my time away would serve no purpose at all and I said I'll get a tan."

"I do not understand how you can view your problems in such a comical fashion."

"I don't, T'Pol." He massaged his temples — he was developing a headache. "I was just trying to stir the conversation away from its serious path."

"The subject matter is serious. I believe you are in denial and you shouldn't ignore the problem. It's not going to evaporate." This was delivered in a very matter-of-fact manner; she sounded like a psychologist herself.

"Okay, I know," he sighed. "Can we please change the subject?"

Ignoring his request she continued. He continued to massage his temples, he probably had a headache. But she wasn't going to let go of this as easily as he wanted her to. If he didn't want her in his personal life fair enough, but she had no qualms in speaking her mind.

"I stand by my suggestion that you seek professional help. Failing that, you should try and open up to someone and share your feelings."

"I don't think there's much to be said."

"I think there's a lot to be said, Captain—"

"T'Pol, just call me Jonathan. I don't know if you're calling me captain cause you're mad or if you think you don't have a right to call me by my first name…but as you've reminded me I'm off-duty."

"As you wish…Jonathan." He'd interrupted her train of thought. Why did it matter to him what she called him? "I didn't think it made that much of a difference. Commander Tucker has been your friend for many years and continues to call you by your formal title."

He frowned. Did she have to question this? Truth be told he loved the sound of his name on her lips. It made their relationship more personal — though that in itself was contradictory, he'd done everything he could to make their relationship less personal.

"You are incorrect in your assumption — I am not mad," she said after almost 30 seconds of silence.

"Oh…okay, well that's good. Though I wouldn't blame you if you were. I'd probably be mad at me if I was you."

"Then it is fortunate I am not human." Her tone was slightly sarcastic.

"Right."

She recalled her train of thought and continued. "Jonathan, you barely scratched the surface when you mentioned your guilt yesterday. You kept a lot of things locked inside while you were in the Expanse. Why do you fear speaking about them?"

"T'Pol…I've asked you twice now to drop this…please."

She didn't want to, but it was apparent if she pushed any harder he'd probably get annoyed and angry. "As you wish…maybe you'll feel more comfortable speaking with Rebecca. If she knows you, I'm sure she's observed that you've changed."

"She hasn't said anything…apart from remarking on my loss of weight."

"Well if you choose to open up to her you have two weeks to do so."

"Yeah…maybe." He didn't want to admit that he had no intention of talking to Rebecca or anyone else for that matter, but if he told T'Pol that she'd only continue to badger him about opening up and dealing with his guilt.

"If there's nothing else, I'll be leaving," she announced, glancing at the clock. She didn't particularly want to bump into Rebecca.

"Feel free to use my bed, it's much more comfy that the sofa," he offered, walking her to the door. "The sheets are fresh, I changed them this morning and you'd be keeping Porthos company."

"I wouldn't want to impose." She wasn't sure how she felt about sleeping in his bed.

"It's not an imposition, I'd like you to be as comfortable as possible. And please make yourself at home."

"Thank you," she replied, then she recalled what he'd said about Porthos. "Does Porthos sleep with you on the bed?"

"Rarely, he has his own bed in the corner of my room, just like on Enterprise."

"Good."

"Oh and help yourself to any food in the fridge and around the kitchen. I bought an assortment of melons last night at the store, and some other fruits — I know you like them for breakfast."

"Thank you, that was thoughtful of you," she replied.

"No problem."

"I'll be going then."

"T'Pol, you don't have to leave on account of me. I mean I'll be out of here in about 20 minutes, why not stay?"

She didn't wish to see Rebecca. She felt no resentment towards the woman, she just didn't wish to be physically reminded of him going away with her. "I think it best if I leave," she told him.

Jonathan nodded in understanding and felt a pang of guilt at the misconception T'Pol was probably under. He considered telling her the truth — that Rebecca and him were only friends, but decided against it. It might just confuse T'Pol further, or give her false hope.

"I hope you have a pleasant vacation."

"Thanks, T'Pol."

She left his building and stared out onto the busy street, pondering how to kill the next half hour or so. She noticed a white sports car pull up just outside the entrance. The driver wore sunglasses, and had long blonde hair. It was Rebecca.

T'Pol started to walk in the opposite direction, hoping the woman hadn't seen her.

"T'Pol, is that you?" she heard Rebecca call. She turned around and saw the blonde woman facing her.

"Ah, I thought it was you. Did you come to see Jonathan off?" she asked.

"I'll be taking care of Porthos and the apartment while he's gone. I came by to pick up the keys."

"Oh, I didn't realize. I'd assumed Jonathan would take the dog with him. I even called ahead to the shuttle company to inform them. Hmm…guess it's a case of miscommunication," she laughed.

Rebecca had a point. It wasn't like Jonathan to leave his quadruped behind — he'd taken him to Risa, and then of course there had been the whole incident with the Kreetassens two years ago. Why was he leaving him behind now? T'Pol was puzzled.

"I hope you have a pleasant trip," T'Pol offered.

"Thanks. I'm dying for a vacation and I think Jonathan needs the rest." Rebecca took T'Pol aside so they could speak privately for a moment without the roar of traffic interrupting them. "I don't mean to pry, but is Jonathan ill? He's so thin."

"You didn't ask him?"

"Sure did. Several times yesterday. In fact he didn't answer any of my questions, but just avoided them."

Hmm…so he was less open with Rebecca, someone who'd known him for years, than he'd been with her.

"The captain was under a great deal of stress during the mission. That's all I can say. As far as I am aware he is not suffering from a physical illness. Apart from a slight loss of weight, he appears healthy to me," T'Pol explained.

"Okay, thanks for the reassurance," Rebecca replied. "I'd assumed it was stress related. Well I better get going. Nice seeing you again."

Rebecca entered the building while T'Pol decided to walk around the block. They should be gone within thirty minutes and she could return then.

T'Pol entered the apartment, setting the key down on the counter. She hadn't eaten any breakfast so decided to finally make her plomeek broth. She opened the fridge and found Jonathan had put everything she'd purchased into a plastic container.

She took it out and placed it on the counter top. Pouring some water into the kettle, she set that to boil. She heard the patter of feet and looked down to find Porthos had come to keep her company. She recalled what Jonathan had said — to talk to the dog.

He looked up at her and cocked his head.

"Hello Porthos." He barked in response.

She didn't want to stroke him as she was just about to prepare food, but decided to anyway. She patted him gently on the head. But the dog seemed to want something else. Jonathan had feed him this morning and informed her he was feed twice a day. Maybe Porthos just wanted to be around her. She washed her hands in the sink and went on to prepare her ingredients. She poured the boiling water into a pan on the stove and began to mix in what she'd bought at the health store.

She heard a gentle whimper as she was stirring her concoction. The dog couldn't miss Jonathan already — he'd been gone less than an hour.

"I'll take you for a walk later, Porthos. I'm going to have some breakfast now."

She felt a little awkward talking to the quadruped knowing full well it didn't understand a word, but Jonathan had convinced her that it soothed the animal and he was accustomed to it.

Porthos began to paw her leg. Then it dawned on her. He probably wanted some cheese. She was against the whole idea of giving an animal something that didn't agree with them and which could make them sick, but Jonathan had said it was okay to indulge him two or three times a week.

Well the dog had just been left behind while his owner went off to enjoy the delights of Fiji, why not give him a bit of cheese? She opened the fridge door, scanning for some cheese. She quickly found some, and cut a few slices. Porthos was starting to get excited, and was running circles around her feet.

"I suppose this was what you wanted." Porthos barked, his tail wagging madly in anticipation of the treat. She placed the slices in his food bowl, and went back to preparing her soup.

"Any ideas as to why your master left you behind?" she asked the dog, still feeling foolish to be talking to an animal that didn't understand her. Porthos ignored her — he was too busy with the cheese.

Knowing how attached the captain was to his pet — she still recalled his threat of watering the Kreetassens' Alvera trees if anything happened to the dog, it was odd that he would leave him behind. Porthos would have probably enjoyed roaming around the beach and splashing in the ocean. She was surprised at herself for not having thought of this earlier.

A thought crept into her head, had this been a way of getting her to stay in the apartment? If he'd taken the dog and just asked her to stay, he'd probably have known she would have refused, not feeling comfortable with the suggestion. It seemed a plausible theory. He felt guilty about the way he'd acted and it was a way of making it up to her in a roundabout fashion. He may have thought she was uncomfortable at the hotel and he knew she needed a kitchen to be able to prepare Vulcan dishes.

Twenty minutes later her plomeek broth was simmering and looked about ready. She tasted a little and was impressed with her work. It was as good as what Chef made on Enterprise, if not a little better. She found herself a bowl and filled it with the broth. She'd made enough for several portions, so poured the remainder into a large plastic container, sealed it shut and deposited it into the refrigerator.

She sat down at the kitchen table and ate her soup. She glanced in the direction of Porthos' bowl to see that the dog had already departed having wolfed down his cheese. He'd probably gone for a nap.

The apartment was very quiet. She remembered the jazz music Jonathan had played yesterday. Perhaps she could find the CD and play it again. She walked over to his CD collection and was pleased to find he'd left it on top of the CD player. Opening the case she deposited the disc into the player and pressed play.

She returned to her seat to finish her soup.

The apartment was filled with the intoxicating music — the sound travelled through her body. She closed her eyes, imagining once again her favourite haunt in Sausalito.

She saw herself sitting unnoticed in the corner of the bar. Then a tall man in a tuxedo approached her; he had dark blonde hair and beautiful green eyes, and in a sultry voice asked her if she'd like to dance. As she got up to accept she noticed her clothes had changed and she was now wearing a long black evening gown.

He led her to the dance floor and then wrapped his arms around her, as they moved in unison to the music.

"Come here often?" he whispered into her ear.

"No."

"What's your name, beautiful?"

"T'Pol."

He smiled at her and as she looked into his eyes she realized she was dancing with Jonathan.

"I thought you were in Fiji."

"What would I be doing there without you?"

The scene seemed to fade out and suddenly she found herself on a moonlit beach. Jonathan's arm was draped around her waist and she was leaning into him. "Didn't I tell you I wouldn't come to Fiji without you?"

"Mmm." She could hear the waves crashing against the shore and felt a gentle tropical breeze rush through her hair.

"I love you, T'Pol."

And then he was kissing her, with the moon and the stars as the only witnesses.

A loud bleep filtered above the noise of the music. T'Pol opened her eyes and shook her head. The bleeping continued and she noticed it was coming from Jonathan's desk. She walked over to it and tapped the viewscreen on the computer. Trip's surprised face greeted her.

"Er…Hi T'Pol, is the captain there?"

"No, he isn't. Hold on please." She walked over to the CD player and turned the music off so she could hear Tucker properly.

"Do you know when he'll be back?" Trip asked.

"In approximately two weeks."

"Two weeks? Where'd he go?"

"He left for Fiji this morning."

"On his own?"

"No, a lady called Rebecca accompanied him."

"Rebecca? Wow, that brings back memories. So what you doing there?"

"I'm taking care of Porthos and the apartment in the captain's absence. You know this Rebecca?"

"Sure…she and the captain were quite an item a couple years back. I wonder if…" he stopped.

"What do you wonder?" T'Pol's curiosity was piqued and she was interested in Tucker's knowledge of Rebecca.

"Oh just thinking aloud. I'd always been of the opinion that she never got over the captain…all this talk of let's be friends and what not…well I didn't buy it, even if Archer did at the time."

"I assumed that was her intent myself — to rekindle their relationship."

"Hmm…well if she makes him happy. Have to say I'm surprised though."

"Why?"

"Well from what I know they broke it off because they were incompatible, why try now?"

"I do not know. You know this Rebecca a lot better than me."

"Well she's one heck of a determined woman…so if she's set her sights on him…I dunno. Guess we'll find out soon enough, yeah?"

"I suppose," T'Pol answered.

"You okay?"

"Yes, why do you ask?"

"Well I know ya Vulcan and all, but if you ask me I'd say you were upset the captain went off with Rebecca."

"I'm fine, Trip."

"Did you guys talk at all? I know you said at breakfast the other day that he seemed troubled."

"I attempted to talk to him about certain things. The results were less than successful."

"Yeah…well you know the cap'n, he likes to do things in his own time, and he's ultra private. I'm sure he'll be okay."

She wondered if Trip had any idea how deeply affected the captain was by his actions in the Expanse. Perhaps he'd been too consumed with his own grief over Lizzie's death. Or maybe Archer put on such a good show even Trip was fooled. She didn't want to expand on what she'd learnt, especially the part about Jonathan's guilt over the Illyrians so answered that she hoped Trip was right and that the captain would be okay.

"What were you calling about? If it's urgent I can get a message to him," she said.

"Actually I was taking your advice and just checking up on him. After what you said the other day it got me thinking. But since he isn't around…well guess I'll have to try when he gets back. That'll probably be for the best anyway, he'll be in a more relaxed mood by then."

"Probably," T'Pol replied. "How are the Cayman Islands?"

"Oh just dandy! Having a great time. Going diving this afternoon. Anyway, gotta run. See ya."

"Goodbye."

She turned off the viewscreen and walked back across the room to the table, picking up her now empty bowl. She placed it in the dishwasher, and made herself a mug of fruit tea. Wanting to try something new, she selected Orange Spice, curious as to why it was Jonathan's favourite.

She put the music back on and sat down on the sofa with her tea, recalling her daydream. This was a new experience for her, but then she didn't listen to music often. She'd had no idea it could have such a profound effect on her.

Was the daydream a product of wishful thinking? Wouldn't she want to be the one in Fiji with him right now? Yes she did, but it didn't have to be Fiji, anywhere would suffice as long as she was with him.

I wonder if this is what humans call love. She'd never told Jonathan she loved him because using the term would have been inaccurate — one can't say they love someone unless they fully understand what that entails. Now as she reflected on her feelings she acknowledged that she had fallen prey to this human emotion.

Despite his irritability, his anger and his fluctuating moods she still cared about him. She knew she was drawn to him like no other, and was deeply concerned for his well-being. And when she heard how tortured he was, how the guilt was eating away at him she wished to comfort and soothe him. If only he hadn't pulled away at her every attempt…

She'd used the word "care" — assuming it would adequately describe how she felt. But he'd seemed to shrug it off several times. Friends cared; the word love, in the context she felt it, was reserved for a mate.

Thinking it over, would it have made a difference if she'd said she loved him? Would his reaction have been the same? She had no answers to her own questions.

Sipping her tea she found Orange Spice to be pleasing — it had a tangy flavour. Maybe that's why Jonathan liked it. Glancing at the clock on the wall she noted it was almost midday. Jonathan and Rebecca had boarded their flight and were about to depart. Was Jonathan holding her hand? Was he laughing? Did she make him smile? Was he happy?

If he was happy it was only temporary. She felt certain that his problems couldn't just be cured by a vacation. He needed to come to terms with his guilt and forgive himself.

On that thought she decided to contact Admiral Forrest. He might be able to help her in regard to something.

TBC