Redemption
Chapter 23
T'Pol turned off the shower and stepped out of the cubicle. As she dried herself off she thought she heard a noise coming from the living room. It was as if someone had walked into the apartment and closed the door behind them. She dismissed it as her imagination. Perhaps Porthos had knocked something over. Wrapping the towel around her she stepped into the bedroom to change into her night clothes.
As she entered she realized she hadn't been imagining things. Standing before her was none other than Jonathan Archer. "Jonathan!" she exclaimed, startled. Then she remembered her lack of attire and feeling self-conscious held on tightly to the towel.
"T'Pol…I…err…I thought you were out," he explained, "I rang the bell but no one answered."
"I was in the shower."
"Yes…I can see that."
"I need to change."
"Of course," he said. "I'll be in the living room." He left her alone and shut the bedroom door behind him. Perplexed at his sudden arrival she fumbled around looking for her PJs. Her mind was racing. What was he doing here? Had things with Rebecca gone badly? Did this have anything to do with the boy who almost drowned?
Once she was dressed she joined him in the living room. He was seated on the sofa, fidgeting. He stood up when he saw her. "I'm sorry I barged in on you like this."
"It's your apartment," she answered curtly. That was the fact after all. However it would not have required a lot of effort to give her a few hours notice. She could have packed her things together and moved back into the hotel if he'd called. At this time of night that didn't appear to be an option – she doubted the hotel would have any vacancies.
"Yes, but I should have let you know, especially as it is rather late."
"I won't disagree." Why should she sugar coat it?
"I guess I was worried that…well—"
"Yes?"
"I wanted to see you. I thought if you knew of my arrival you might pack up and leave."
He was correct on that account. His wanting to see her was puzzling. After he'd gone to such lengths to not spend time with her why have this change of heart? She was curious, but also suspicious. This time she wasn't going to be a fool and get taken in by his bipolar behaviour. She was aware that he might declare his undying love for her tonight and then in the morning light he'd be singing the same tune of we can't be together etc.
"I will make arrangements with the hotel tomorrow and move out, but for tonight, if it wouldn't be too much of an inconvenience, could I stay in the living room?"
"I won't hear of it. I'll take the sofa bed and you can remain in my room."
"Jonathan—"
"No, you're my guest and I want you to be comfortable."
"The sofa bed is fine."
"T'Pol, let's not fight about trivial matters."
"As you wish." She sat down in the armchair. "You've returned a week early." It wasn't a question, but a statement that should encourage him to explain his sudden appearance.
"I know. I realized you were right."
"I was?"
"Running away was foolish. Fiji's a beautiful place, but it didn't change how I felt about myself."
"What now, Jonathan?"
"I'm not sure, I've come back to try and work that out."
"I see." She wasn't sure how else to respond. Maybe two weeks ago she would have reacted differently. But she felt as if he'd pulled her through an emotional wringer and couldn't muster up any kind of reaction to this news.
"So how have you been, T'Pol?" he enquired, sitting across from her.
"I'm well."
"I've missed you."
"Oh?" She raised an eyebrow at this statement. If it was meant to score points with her, it didn't.
"I know you're mad with me and you have every right to be. We didn't part on the best of terms, but I'd like to rectify matters."
"I am not mad. As I've told you several times Vulcans do not get mad." While that was true she did feel hurt by his behaviour before he'd left for Fiji.
"All right, maybe mad isn't the right term. But I want to apologize for how I acted and also to straighten out a few things."
She reminded herself not to be taken in by him. She was tired after taking Porthos for a long walk this afternoon and wasn't in the right frame of mind for this type of conversation. Besides whatever he said the facts remained to be seen – he'd told her there was no hope of relationship between them and he'd clearly chosen Rebecca.
"T'Pol?"
"Yes?"
"Are you sure you're feeling all right?"
"I told you I'm fine." She got up to make herself some chamomile tea – a ritual she performed every night. She put the kettle on to boil and asked him if he wanted anything to drink.
"No thanks," he answered. He joined her in the kitchen. "What have you been up to in my absence?"
"I looked after your quadruped, Jonathan."
"That's all?"
She wasn't in the mood for twenty questions and needed to meditate. Her emotions were close to the surface and she was concerned she might say something she would later regret. "I'm tired, Jonathan. Perhaps we could talk in the morning?"
"Oh okay. I'm sorry. I'll let you drink your tea in peace and I'll get ready for bed."
She wasn't blind to the disappointment clearly written all over his face. It was obvious he wanted to converse with her. But what did he expect? That he'd turn up and she'd welcome him with open arms?
She sipped her tea, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. She noted how well Jonathan looked. His trip may not have helped him psychologically but physically he looked very fit. She was curious about Rebecca. Had she also returned with him?
She heard him walk out of the bathroom just as the clock on the living room wall chimed 11pm. She finished off her tea and washed the mug.
As he entered the living room she bid him goodnight. For a split second she felt a pang of guilt and was tempted to strike up a conversation with him. There was a warmth in his eyes that she recognized – he'd looked at her that way when he'd told her that for selfish reasons he was glad she wasn't being recalled to Vulcan.
"Goodnight, T'Pol…sweet dreams."
"I don't dream."
"Right…sorry I forgot. Well sleep well." He gave her a half smile but she quickly turned away and entered the bedroom.
Jonathan tossed and turned on the sofa bed trying to get comfortable. He was grateful he hadn't allowed T'Pol to sleep on this tonight. But if memory served him correct she had slept here once…that night he'd returned drunk from the 602 club. That had been around two weeks ago, but it felt more like two years ago.
He'd hoped for a warmer reception from her, but guessed he deserved the Vulcan iceberg treatment. She wasn't glad to see him. He feared he'd burned his bridges with her. He sighed and rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling. He didn't feel tired at all. It was 1am here but it was only 8pm in Fiji. Oh the joys of jetlag!
He couldn't turn the television on as it would wake T'Pol. He fumbled around in the dark looking for a side lamp to turn on. Once there was illumination he padded over to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water.
He walked over to the living room window and gazed out upon the city. There were a couple cars on the streets and a few shuttles flying past. He could just make out Starfleet HQ from here. He recalled what Forrest had said about moving on in regard to the Illyrians. Would he be so flippant if it had been him stealing that warp coil?
On the other hand, while the comment had angered him, he did understand where Forrest was coming from. He'd be of no use to his crew or Starfleet if he continued to drown himself in guilt. He needed to be fit and healthy – and that included psychologically. A captain wallowing in guilt would be too preoccupied to think on his feet and make important decisions when they were required.
The time had come to be proactive. He hated the idea of therapy, but if Starfleet wasn't going to let him go back into the Expanse and rescue the poor souls he'd stranded, it seemed it was going to be his only option. But it was a poor second choice – while therapy may teach him how to cope with his feelings it certainly wouldn't be of any aid to the people he'd stolen a warp coil from.
What other options did he have? Would the Vulcans be willing to help him? Somehow he didn't think they'd want to send a ship into the Expanse especially after what had happened to the Seleya and Vaankara. So that seemed like a definite no. He wondered what his blue skinned friend Shran was up to these days and whether he'd be willing to bestow yet another favour on him. Guess there's no harm in asking, Jon thought.
His head jerked around when he heard the bedroom door open and he watched T'Pol tip-toe out. Their eyes met.
"You can't sleep?" she asked.
"It's the time change."
"Oh."
"And you?"
"And me?" she asked, looking confused.
"I was asking why you are awake. Are you having trouble sleeping?"
"I was thirsty and came to get a glass of water." She made her way over to the sink to get the water in question. "If you wish to watch something on the television to pass the time you won't be disturbing me."
"T'Pol, you have better hearing than me. Of course it would disturb you."
"It is not a problem."
"I don't want to keep you awake."
"I haven't been sleeping that well of late."
He crossed the room to join her. "What's wrong, T'Pol?" he asked in a concerned tone. She looked as if she'd regretted this little confession and tried to make light of it explaining that she had some things on her mind.
"If you want to talk—"
"I'm fine. With extra meditation I am sure my sleep pattern will return."
"Did something happen while I was gone?" For a moment he wondered if she'd heard some bad news from Vulcan, perhaps her mother or someone in her family was ill.
"Nothing of consequence."
"You are being vague on purpose." It almost felt like a punishment.
"I believe you are being paranoid, Jonathan."
"It's not like you to have trouble sleeping; that leads me to conclude something is on your mind. There's an old saying – a problem shared is a problem halved."
"I presume that is an Earth saying."
"Yes, but—"
"Then it would not apply to me."
"I only wanted to help."
"Fascinating…I seem to recall saying something similar to you before you decided to run off to Fiji." He noted how well she had mastered the human art of sarcasm.
"T'Pol, I'm sorry. Can I make it up to you?"
"It's late. We should both try and get some sleep." It was obvious she wasn't going to answer his question. He hadn't expected her to be this pissed off, but he imagined she'd had over a week to let her anger stew at his behaviour.
"I wasn't lying when I said I missed you."
"I did not imply that you were," she responded.
"No, but you seemed indifferent to the information." She wouldn't look him in the eye, as if she was on guard against revealing her feelings. He felt like he was walking on a tight rope. "Did you miss me?" he blurted out without thinking.
She didn't answer but stood up saying she felt tired and would attempt to get some sleep. He caught her hand. "Wait, T'Pol." She pulled her hand out of his grasp and retreated to the bedroom.
T'Pol had just finished dressing when she heard the call coming through. It rang several times and when it was obvious that Jonathan wasn't going to respond she opened the bedroom door and went over to the computer and answered it.
It was Steve Johnson. He explained that his wife was back in town and if it was convenient for her, they would love her company for dinner tomorrow night.
"That's kind of you, Steve," she whispered.
"T'Pol, why are you whispering?"
"Jonathan came home last night, he's still asleep."
"Ah, well make sure he gets the invite as well. I'd love to see him! Of course now that he's back we won't be able to gossip about him, will we?" Steve teased.
"I will pass on your invitation to Jonathan."
"Great! And T'Pol if for some reason he can't make it, we'd still love your company."
"Thank you. I will definitely be there."
"Good, let's say around 7:30pm?"
"That is agreeable."
Steve ended the call by saying he looked forward to seeing them both. After switching off the computer terminal she tip-toed over to Archer and noted he was fast asleep. She presumed it had to do with the time change.
She fed Porthos, had a bowl of fruit and then took the dog for a walk. By the time she returned it was after 11am. She'd stayed out longer than usual hoping to give him some time to get up, dressed and have breakfast without her getting in his way.
As she re-entered the apartment she noted that it was silent except for the sound of Jonathan's deep breathing. He was still asleep! She unhooked Porthos' leash and removed her jacket.
She noted he was lying in the same position he'd been in before she'd left; on his stomach with his head to the side. The sheet had gathered around his waist with his bare muscular back on full display. She imagined running her fingers down his spine in a gentle caress or placing a soft kiss at his shoulder.
She chastised herself for her silly daydreams. It would be prudent to wake him up. He couldn't sleep the entire day away. She leaned over and shook him gently by the shoulder. That didn't produce any results so she tried once more, this time using a little more strength.
He moved onto his back but continued to sleep. She shook him again and called out his name with no result. He must be in a very deep sleep. She could just pack up her things and go, but if she allowed him to sleep she theorized he probably wouldn't awaken till around 1pm or later.
She walked over to the kitchen and retrieved a glass out of the cupboard half filling it with water and returned to his side. She emptied the contents over his head.
"What the hell?" he said, coughing and spluttering as he bolted upright.
For some illogical reason she felt a surge of satisfaction at her action. "Jonathan, it's 11:15am, I assumed you'd wish to be up by now."
His eyes focused on her. "You threw water over me?"
"It was a last resort."
He didn't look convinced. "You were fast asleep. I shook you several times to no avail," she explained.
He pulled back the covers and got up. She stepped out of his way. "Do you mind if I use my room? I need to get to my clothes as my luggage hasn't arrived yet."
"Did it get lost?"
"No, Admiral Forrest said he would arrange for someone to drop it off here. I couldn't pick it up myself as I was avoiding the hoard of reporters waiting for me at the arrivals lounge."
Now she recalled seeing a group of people standing outside the apartment building entrance yesterday evening when she'd returned from doing some grocery shopping. It was fortunate that no one had stopped her or recognized her. "I suspect your notoriety has tripled since the incident with the drowning boy."
"That's an understatement."
"I would assume they'd be less people to hassle you in Fiji. Why did you not remain there while all the excitement died down?"
"I didn't know what the situation here was until Admiral Forrest grabbed and hurried me away before anyone noticed us. Anyway, if you'll excuse me I'll get dressed."
He appeared ten minutes later clean shaven and dressed in a white collarless shirt open at the neck and a pair of tan pants. Did he wear white because he knew how well it suited him? She felt a compliment on the tip of her tongue, but bit it back.
Then she remembered Steve's call and informed Jonathan of the invitation. "He is eager to see you," she added.
"Hmm…it's been so long."
"Perhaps you could rekindle your friendship. He seems like a nice person." Or perhaps you could see him as a patient she thought.
"You make it sound like you've known him for years, T'Pol. Did you guys spend a lot of time together?"
"We've been out a few times." She didn't owe him a detailed explanation.
"As in a date?"
Jonathan was certainly jumping to conclusions and while her first instinct was to put him right, she decided against it. Let him wonder about her and Steve. She could easily tell him Steve was married, but since he'd failed to inform her of the current status between himself and Rebecca, she saw no reason to make clarifications herself.
"T'Pol?" he asked again.
"If you are finished with the bedroom, I need to pack."
"What do you mean?" he asked, his face a frown.
"I believe pack is the correct term. As in gather my clothes and other belongings and place them into a suitcase."
She strolled into the bedroom while he followed behind her. "I didn't say you had to leave."
"The reason for my staying no longer exists, Jonathan. You are home; you can care for your pet. It is logical for me to move back to the hotel."
"But you don't have cooking facilities there. And I'd like you to stay…here with me. Please."
She pulled up a suitcase onto the bed and started to fold her clothes into it, ignoring his invitation.
"Is it because you don't want to stay?" he asked after a long pause. She looked up at him and noticed how sad he looked. None of this made any sense. Why was he acting this way?
"Jonathan, I already explained there is no reason for me to stay."
"I'm not asking you to look after Porthos; I'd like you to be my guest. Surely you're more comfortable here than in some hotel."
"I can't expect you to sleep on that uncomfortable sofa."
"If that's your only concern, I'll go out and buy a new mattress for it today."
"No, that isn't my only concern," she said truthfully. "As things stand I do not believe it is appropriate for us to share living quarters."
"Why?"
"You have issues you need to deal with. Last time I tried to help it seems I was more of a stumbling block."
"No, that was just me being a stubborn ass."
She raised her eyebrow at the name he'd called himself. She felt herself wavering. But her logical side told her it was safer to stay at the hotel.
"I find this discussion pointless, Jonathan. I have made up my mind and I'll be checking into the hotel this afternoon." Her voice was resolute.
"I see," he said, sounding defeated. "You can't bear to be in the same room with me, can you?"
"Please don't over dramatize." His views were totally inaccurate. It appeared humans, especially human men, had short memory spans and were prone to bouts of forgetfulness. She'd reiterated how much she cared for him before he'd left for Fiji. He acted as if he'd never heard those words.
"I'll let you pack then." He left the room and she heard him switch on the television.
As bad as he felt about her leaving he felt it was the gentlemanly thing to offer to drive her to hotel, which he did after lunch. As they made their way out of the elevator towards the front door he suddenly remembered that reporters were looking for him. There was a chance a dozen or so might be camped outside the front entrance.
"Is there a problem?" T'Pol asked. She must have noticed he was lagging behind.
"Can you check the front door and see if there are any reporters hanging around?"
She complied with the request and returned to inform him the coast was clear. He was surprised they'd given up so easily. Perhaps they were camped out at Starfleet thinking he might be there. Or it could be that he was yesterday's news and something far more interesting and exciting occupied them.
Neither one of them spoke on the drive over to the hotel. The atmosphere was thick with tension. Jonathan put on some music – the silence made him uneasy. As they pulled up outside the building he climbed out of the car and retrieved her bags from the trunk.
"I can take those in myself," she told him.
"I can help."
"It's not necessary."
So now she wouldn't even let him carry her bags! He needed to talk to her, to explain. He had so many things to tell her but this wasn't the place with all the loud traffic passing by. He felt like she was slipping through his fingers and he was powerless to do anything about it. "I need to talk to you."
"What about, Jonathan?"
"Many things, but I'm not going to shout over this traffic."
"I don't believe there is anything left to say."
"Yes there is. At least on my part – I just need you to listen. Can we have dinner tonight?"
"I'm having dinner at the Consulate tonight with Soval and his wife."
"Okay, what about tomorrow?"
"We're both invited to have dinner with Steve Johnson."
That was true, he'd momentarily forgotten about that. Still that wasn't until 7:30pm. The rest of the day was free. "Okay, what about lunch tomorrow? We could go to the tea room that you liked so much in Golden Gate Park."
"I'll be busy for most of the day tomorrow."
It wasn't like T'Pol to lie but he sure felt like he was being fed half-truths. Defeated he gave up, said goodbye and returned to the car. She picked up her case and without looking back at him walked into the hotel.
He wished now with all his heart that she'd never confessed her feelings, that he could have been blissfully unaware of them. It was clear that she no longer possessed them; he'd killed them by running off with Rebecca and telling her there could be nothing between them. At the time it had seemed the sensible thing to do, but now he regretted it with all his heart.
What a fool he'd been to think he could just turn up and everything would be all right between them.
He drove around aimlessly for a few hours feeling sorry for himself. Before he knew it he'd driven as far as Santa Rosa. He pulled the car over and took the map out of the glove compartment. If he drove towards the coast he'd reach Bodega Bay. That was where the famous Hitchcock film The Birds was set. He recalled watching that with his dad when he was about 10 years old. He'd pleaded with his father to let him stay up late and having agreed Henry and he had sat on the sofa together eating popcorn, their eyes glued to the screen.
He turned left onto Highway 12 which would lead him to the coast. When he arrived he walked around the town a little but was disappointed to find that it didn't resemble any of the scenes in the film. It had probably been filmed on a Hollywood back lot.
He drove back to San Francisco down the coast road and stopped along the way at some fast food joint to appease his hunger. It was after 9pm when he arrived back at his apartment. He found a note in the door from an Ensign Calloway saying he'd tried to deliver Archer's luggage but the captain hadn't been home. The note asked him to contact the ensign to arrange for it to be delivered or picked up.
He entered his empty apartment — well apart from Porthos it was pretty empty. This was not how he'd imagined it. When he'd decided to leave Fiji he knew he had his work cut out for him but he'd felt certain T'Pol would be there for him. He'd obviously miscalculated.
And just what was going on between her and Johnson? He found it hard to believe that she'd get involved with his old friend. Though he remembered back in his youth how Steve had been very popular with the ladies – he seemed to possess a certain charm. Had he exercised it on T'Pol?
He wasn't gonna think about that now. He poured himself a drink and wandered around the apartment aimlessly. He felt lonely. He'd become accustomed to someone being around. He missed Rebecca – she'd been so kind to him. She'd had the patience of a saint and put up with all his crap.
I guess I deserve this, he thought. You push people away, what do you expect? He looked out of his living room window and saw the lights from the 602 club twinkling at him. That was an idea! He slipped a jacket on and left.
It was a busy night and the place was crowded. He hoped he'd still be welcome here after the incident he'd created two weeks ago. He had no intention of getting drunk tonight; he just wanted to be around people. It wasn't even conversation he sought – just the company of fellow human beings.
He ordered a beer from Ruby, who said it was nice to see him. "I thought I might not be welcome."
"You're always welcome, Captain, as long as you don't create any scenes."
"Right."
"By the way rescuing that drowning boy was quite something."
"Anyone else would have done the same thing."
She smiled as she handed him his beer, then served another customer.
"Well if it isn't the galaxy's hero," he heard a female voice announce behind him. He turned to find Erika Hernandez standing behind him. He smiled at her. "I hear congratulations are in order, Captain."
"Thank you, Jonathan. Why don't you join me and my chief engineer for a drink?"
She introduced him to Commander Christina Dobson. He shook hands with the young woman, who didn't look a day over 25 and wondered how she'd achieved the rank of commander so quickly and landed the job of chief engineer.
"Nice to meet you."
"Likewise, Captain. I've heard a lot about you."
"Erika been running off at the mouth?" he asked, sitting down.
"Captain Hernandez speaks very highly of you."
"That's kind of her."
"Is Trip in town?" Christina asked.
"He's on vacation at the moment. I think he'll be back in a week or two. You know Trip?"
"Yeah, we worked together under Captain Jeffries a few years ago. I was hoping he might give me a few pointers on the engine that aren't in the manual."
"I'm sure he'd be happy to help when he gets back."
They chatted casually for the next ten minutes or so and then Christina said she had to leave and get an early night. They were taking Columbia out for a test run in the morning and she wanted to be at her best.
"So how are you?" Erika asked once they were alone.
"Okay."
"You've had a lot of press. I guess you're hating the limelight."
"Well I'm not exactly loving it." He finished off his beer and ordered another one from a waitress who was passing by. "So you're a captain."
"Indeed I am. Took me long enough."
"It's not as easy as it looks," he joked.
"Perhaps you could give me a few pointers."
"Be prepared for the unexpected."
"Sounds ominous. But I appreciate the advice." Erika sipped at her glass of wine. Speaking of advice, I can't quite decide who I should have as a first officer. I was planning to get in touch with you and ask for your recommendations but since you are here—"
"Who do you have in mind?"
"At the moment it's a tie between Commander Eric Monroe and Commander Katherine Sullivan. There is a third choice but I don't know the likelihood of her accepting."
"I worked with Monroe during the NX Project – he's a conscientious young man, very thorough. Katherine Sullivan – I don't seem to recall. You sure I know her?"
"According to her records it says she worked on Enterprise in security for two years."
"No, I don't seem to recall."
"Ah I know the problem. She got married soon after the Xindi attack, and left Enterprise to stay on Earth. I believe her maiden name was Channing."
"Lieutenant Channing, yes I remember her. She's a good choice. She often helped out on the bridge and did the first officer's night shift."
"So which one would you choose?"
"I don't know, Erika. Let me review their files and get back to you. Is that okay?"
"Sure, I didn't mean to pressurize you."
"You didn't."
"There were a lot of weddings after the Xindi attack," Erika commented.
"So I heard. I don't see a ring on your finger."
"You know the answer to that one, Jon. I'm married to Starfleet."
"Of course," he smiled.
"And you?"
"Me? Married? You must be kidding!"
"Thought I'd ask, though I guess there's more chance of the Klingons becoming pacifists than you tying the knot."
The analogy was humorous but suddenly it bothered him. At one time he'd have laughed and heartily agreed, but for some reason her comment hurt him. It wasn't that way at all – not anymore at least. He was tired of being alone and playing the bachelor captain. And he didn't feel married to Starfleet like she did. He needed more in his life. He wanted more…
The waitress returned with Jonathan's second beer and he paid her.
"So you didn't ask who my third option was."
"Excuse me?" he asked.
"For first officer, remember?"
"Oh right – who's your third option?"
"I heard from Admiral Forrest that your first officer, T'Pol, is joining Starfleet. If that's true that makes her eligible to serve aboard any ship of her choosing. I've looked over her records and she's an exemplary officer. I know I'd like her aboard Columbia."
"T'Pol's my first officer," Jonathan said with a possessive tone in his voice.
"She might want a change, Jon. And she's fair game. There's no reason why I can't ask her."
"She's not a commodity, Erika."
"I never said she was. She's an outstanding officer. I meant to compliment her. And you don't own her." Erika sounded a little put out.
"Fine, do what you want."
"Did I touch a nerve, Jon? You accuse me of treating her like a commodity but you act as if you own her."
Jonathan feared that if Erika did ask T'Pol, in light of current circumstances his Vulcan first officer would quite eagerly agree to the transfer. And then she'd be lost to him forever, he couldn't even enjoy her company on the Bridge or in his Ready Room. He couldn't let that happen.
"I'm sorry. I guess I'm tired. T'Pol's a great asset to my crew. I'd hate to lose her. I'd just prefer it if you didn't ask."
"You've made that obvious, but it's her decision." Erika was not be dissuaded it seemed. "Anyway let's drop this okay? I wouldn't have mentioned it if I knew how upset you'd get."
"How would you feel if I tried to poach one of your Bridge crew?" he asked.
"Jonathan, I said I'm sorry."
He finished his beer. "So you got any plans for tomorrow?" Erika enquired.
"At the moment, no — why?"
"I thought you might like to accompany us on a test drive of Columbia."
That sounded appealing. And it wasn't as if he had plans tomorrow. T'Pol had given him the cold shoulder. "Where you heading out to?"
"Jupiter and back —we leave at 1000 hours."
"I'll be there."
The trip aboard Columbia was routine and not as interesting as he'd hoped. Columbia was a carbon copy of her twin ship and apart from a few upgrades, which Enterprise was also receiving; there wasn't much to look at.
He didn't wish to appear bored so listened intently to everything Erika explained, as if all of this was new to him. She was like a younger version of him, before the Expanse had changed him. Her enthusiasm for whatever mission she was sent on bubbled over.
They had lunch in the Captain's Mess and she asked him if he'd thought any more about her candidates for first officer.
"Pick Monroe," he answered.
"Any particular reason?"
"Yeah…he's single and he'll be more focused. Sullivan will be miserable pining for her husband. She shouldn't have applied for a shipboard position."
"Married people do serve aboard starships, Jon."
"Not a good idea in my opinion unless the spouse is along for the ride."
"Families aboard starships, huh? Maybe one day, but I don't see it happening just yet."
He shrugged and finished his salad.
He was back on terra firma by 2pm. Erika bid him goodbye, saying she was staying onboard to check on the data Commander Dobson had collected and she had one of her ensigns shuttle him back to Earth.
He returned to his apartment and found a message from T'Pol requesting that he meet her at the hotel at 7pm. That was probably best since he didn't have a clue where Steve Johnson lived.
He didn't feel up to this dinner. He imagined it would be something like a college reunion with Steve wanting to reminisce over old times. That would inevitably mean the subject of Maggie would be brought up. That was something he didn't wish to discuss and definitely not in front of T'Pol. He'd kept that part of his life private on purpose. No one knew about Maggie and her marriage refusal except Steve and Rebecca. She'd weeded it out of him once when they'd been having a discussion on marriage and she'd been shocked to learn that he'd proposed once.
Porthos appeared restless so he decided to take him for another walk. They'd gone out this morning but only briefly as he'd turned up at Starfleet to meet Erika at 9am. They returned about an hour later. Jonathan felt tired so decided to go lie down. He hadn't slept much last night, not falling into slumber until around 5am and then he'd been abruptly awoken by a glass of water in his face. He couldn't quite get over that. It was almost as if T'Pol had enjoyed it. Yet she wasn't a vindictive person. It made no sense.
He laid his head on the pillow and closed his eyes. He realized the bedding hadn't been changed and the pillowcase smelled strongly of T'Pol's shampoo. It was a wonderful smell of jojoba oil. He closed his eyes and imagined what it would be like to hold her in his arms inhaling her hair.
He must have drifted off because when he opened his eyes again he noted it was already after 6pm. He didn't have much time before he was due to meet T'Pol. He showered and changed and made his way to the car.
He arrived outside her hotel at 6:50pm. After parking the car he entered the hotel and asked the receptionist what room T'Pol was staying in. The lady at the front desk explained she couldn't give such information out but would inform T'Pol she had a visitor.
"It's Captain Archer, isn't it?" she smiled.
"Yeah."
A few moments later T'Pol appeared dressed in a light green short sleeved dress with a jacket on her arm.
"You look lovely," he complimented her. Had she made the special effort for Steve? That thought was unsettling. "I parked the car round the back."
"We can walk, it's only a few blocks from here and we have time."
"Okay."
They walked in silence and it made Jonathan nervous. He made an attempt at small talk and asked her how her dinner with Soval had gone.
"It was fine."
"How is the Ambassador?"
"He is well."
"What you been up to today?"
"I ran some errands, meditated, went for a walk."
She didn't volunteer any further information and they continued on in silence. Feeling uncomfortable again he related to her the events of his morning aboard Columbia. T'Pol seemed unaffected by anything he said. It was like she'd had a complete personality transplant while he'd been in Fiji and he'd come back to a different person.
They turned a corner and she announced that this was the street. Jonathan looked around and felt an odd sense of deja-vu. He hadn't been in this area of the city for years but it felt familiar. He glanced around looking for a street name, but couldn't see one.
"What's the name of this street?" he asked T'Pol.
"Westgate Avenue."
No wonder it looked so damn familiar! He'd spent many happy hours walking down this street to a certain door and a certain apartment. He wondered why Steve would choose to live here.
"I believe this is it," announced T'Pol as they stopped outside number 2150. Jonathan felt his stomach tighten. He had a bad feeling about this. It wasn't possible that this was a coincidence.
"Are you sure this is the right address?"
"Yes," she answered and opened the gate. "Aren't you coming?" she called when she noticed he wasn't following. The house looked just as he remembered it.
"Jonathan!" she called again. Maybe this was some kind of joke on Steve's part and he'd rented the house for the dinner. It wasn't possible that…no she'd left San Francisco almost immediately after refusing him.
He followed T'Pol to the front door. She rang the bell. Jonathan felt increasingly nervous. The door opened revealing a tall, beautiful brown haired lady in her early 40s.
"You must be T'Pol; it's so nice to meet you. I'm Steve's wife." The woman turned to greet him. "Hello Jonathan. It's been a long time, hasn't it?"
Jonathan stood rooted to the spot, incapable of speech.
TBC