Redemption

Chapter 27

Jonathan had suggested they go to Ocean Beach for their walk. He said something about how Porthos enjoyed frolicking in the sand.

He appeared quiet and sullen. He'd been so ever since they'd left the cafeteria. She'd been surprised when he'd agreed to her suggestion. They'd driven over to his apartment and collected Porthos. The dog had seemed overjoyed to see her, causing Jonathan to comment how he seemed happier to see T'Pol than him.

Ocean Beach was several miles from his apartment so they'd taken the car. Once on the sand Jonathan unhooked Porthos' leash and let the pup roam around of his own free will. The beagle seemed to be bursting with energy. T'Pol asked if he'd been out for a walk with Jonathan this morning and he confirmed that he had, then repeated how much Porthos liked the beach.

If he enjoyed it so much, why had Jonathan not taken him to Fiji? Something there didn't add up. But she didn't ask.

They walked at a leisurely pace side by side, keeping Porthos within sight. T'Pol observed how several couples strolled along the beach, hand in hand. It appeared to be a romantic favourite for courting couples.

"I tried to work out where the Illyrians would be," T'Pol said, hoping to engage him in conversation.

"You looked at the star charts?"

"Yes, I was able to download them onto your computer from Starfleet. It's been under three months – they couldn't have traveled far. I think it would be easy to find them."

"If there was a means of doing so," he said, with resignation. "But Forrest wasn't open to any of my ideas. He said the council wouldn't approve asking for help from either the Xindi or the Andorians. I did think about the Vulcans, but I think that's a long shot, right?"

"I believe so," she answered, recalling her dinner with Soval last week. "I'm sorry, Jonathan."

"It's not your fault."

He stopped, gazing out onto the horizon. The sun was setting and the sky was a rich collection of pinks, oranges and reds. "Talking to someone about your feelings will prove beneficial I believe," she said.

"I know, you told me that before I went to Fiji."

"I feel the same way."

"It might make me feel better, T'Pol, but what about them? They are still going to be stuck out there."

"You've done what you can."

"Doesn't seem like much. You know, I don't think I want to be okay with what I did."

"You probably never will be, Jonathan. I would assume treatment would help you come to terms with it, not erase the guilt entirely."

"Sounds great," he said with sarcasm.

"I can understand how you feel. After what happened on Risa with Jossen I didn't think I could live with myself. The guilt tortured me day and night."

"I remember you telling me. However, we humans don't have the equivalent of a Fullara."

"The Fullara isn't fool proof, as you saw."

When Menos caused her to recall what had happened on Risa she'd been overwhelmed. Her memories had been clouded and she'd been uncertain of herself. Had she killed an innocent man? She'd felt lost and scared – if Jonathan hadn't been there to support and guide her, she knew there would have been no way she could have carried out her duty to the Ministry as requested.

"Okay, so what helped?" he asked.

"You did."

"Me?" His voice relayed genuine astonishment.

"I could not make sense of my thoughts – you guided me to make the right decision. I trusted you. I will always be grateful for what you did. I once told you—"

"I remember, T'Pol…if I need someone I can trust. I think I've taken you up on that offer plenty of times."

"Then trust me again – you will feel better once you deal with your feelings."

"But don't you see? I don't know if I want to feel better. The guilt reminds me what I did was wrong."

"Did you have another choice?" she asked.

"At the time it didn't seem so, but now I don't know."

"If you had it all over again, what would you do?"

"Oh God, I don't know." He ran his fingers through his hair. "I don't think I can even bear to think about it. I was in my Ready Room this afternoon and it all came rushing back – how I made my mind up, you yelling at me, my conscience giving me hell, and then shutting off my feelings and getting on with it."

She wished she could offer him a measure of comfort, but she was no psychiatrist. It was obvious the man was in pain, all she could do was encourage him to get help. "Speaking to a professional about such things will help, Jonathan."

"I don't have a choice. If I refuse Forrest is going to take my command away."

"The Admiral cares for you, not just as his subordinate but as a friend. I think he wants what is best for you."

"I guess. He gave me a list of therapists. Your friend was at the top of it."

"Steve?" She assumed that's who he was referring to.

"Yeah, Forrest even recommended him, saying he'd had experience with treating Xindi victims."

"Yes, he worked in Florida before moving here. He told me so."

"One of the many things he told you." T'Pol noted a touch of sarcasm in his voice. If he was angry about the things Steve had divulged he had a right to be. She shouldn't have been so inquisitive about his past.

"Don't blame Steve for what he told me. I was intrigued when he mentioned that you'd almost married once and asked for more details. I wouldn't have brought the subject up, but when we first met he asked me if you were married. I was surprised."

"I hardly know anything of your life being Enterprise, T'Pol. If I wanted to know I'd have asked you, not an old friend."

So he was upset. "I apologize. It seems my curiosity got the better of me."

"I didn't think Vulcans were curious, especially in such matters."

"I was because it was you. The man he described sounded so different from the man I'd come to know – I wished to know what changed you."

"You never asked me personal questions on Enterprise."

"You're correct. I suppose I did not feel comfortable doing so. And I'd like to apologize again. Your past is not my business. I never meant any harm by it."

"Relax, T'Pol. I'm not really mad, just a tad annoyed. And Steve knew better than to indulge your interest. At least I thought he did. I'd have told you all about Maggie, if you'd just asked. Considering everything that's going on currently, it's a trivial matter."

Was it? He'd seemed livid on Friday. If it hadn't been for her Steve and Maggie wouldn't have re-entered his life. But perhaps in comparison to how he felt about the Illyrians and their plight it was a matter of less significance.

She was also surprised to discover he'd have told her about Maggie. She would not have asked. She'd never enquired of his private life during the time they'd spent together socially on Enterprise. In the same fashion he'd never asked her any questions of a private nature. He'd even assumed she'd had a relationship with Trip without asking.

"I even agreed to see Maggie to sort things out," he continued.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, we're supposed to have lunch on Wednesday."

"I see."

She wondered if he still had feelings for Maggie. She'd been his first love – perhaps they'd never been completely extinguished. She had such little experience in matters of the heart; it was difficult to imagine all these complex emotions – falling in and out of love.

"May I ask, after she refused you, why did you disappear for three months?" She was concerned she might be treading on unwelcome ground, but he'd just told her if there was something she wanted to know she should ask. But still she felt trepidation.

"I'm not proud of how I behaved, T'Pol. I was young, foolish and madly in love. Love can make you do crazy things." He stopped and turned to face her, looking directly into her eyes. The intensity of his gaze made her stomach tighten and her pulse rate increase.

"I was hurt and angry. I didn't know what to do with myself. I thought if I stayed in San Francisco I'd go nuts. I had to get away. So I traveled. I spent about a month in New Zealand hiking the mountains on the South Island. I needed somewhere tranquil to gather my thoughts together."

"Did it help?"

"It was beautiful, peaceful and serene but I was still one angry young man. It was then that I decided to go to Tibet. I visited the Tholing monastery in Ngari. It had a profound effect on me – I realized there was no point to being angry and I needed to move on. I couldn't make Maggie love me or be my wife. And if she didn't feel the same way as me, well then I was better off without her."

"Perhaps another visit to the monastery is in order, Jonathan."

"What do you mean?"

"Since it helped you resolve your feelings towards Maggie, perhaps it would help you find peace with yourself in regard to the Illyrians."

"Hmm…if only it were that easy."

They walked further along the shore in comfortable silence. The wind was picking up and blasted cold air against her face. She shivered a little.

"It's getting chilly," he noted. "Perhaps we should head back."

"I'm fine. I don't wish to spoil Porthos' fun."

"Oh I think he's worn himself out by now." Jonathan whistled to him and the dog came running.

Jonathan pushed the thought that T'Pol was with him out of pity to the back of his mind and asked her to spend the evening with him. Their time on the beach had been pleasant and reminiscent of happier times together. He didn't want to let go of that just yet.

It was almost 8pm by the time they reached his apartment. Jonathan asked if she wanted anything to eat. He was going to order a pizza as he felt hungry again. She asked if she could make herself a salad.

"You sure? That's what you had at the cafeteria."

"It will suffice."

"I'll make it then." She protested but he wouldn't allow her, insisting that she was the guest. He ordered himself a large pepperoni pizza and made a salad for both of them.

"Do you like avocado?" he asked her before putting some in. She said she hadn't tried it before. He scooped some out with a spoon and asked her to taste it.

"A fascinating taste."

"Does that mean you like it?" She nodded.

Twenty minutes later they ate. T'Pol complimented him on the salad, saying it was very tasty and better than the one she'd had at the cafeteria.

"Thanks," he smiled.

"You should do that more often."

"Make a salad?"

"No, smile."

"Oh, well guess I haven't had much to smile about. Sorry."

"It is becoming on you."

"Thanks." Boy she was really being nice. Had she forgiven him over Fiji, or was it just that she felt he'd had a bad day and needed a break? He wished he knew.

After dinner he washed up and made her some mint tea. He was about to join her on the sofa when he noticed the books on his bookshelf had been moved. His mother's copy of Jane Eyre was not where it usually was, but next to a copy of Gulliver's Travels which he'd read as a child. Also, he couldn't see a leather bound book which was normally right next to the copy of Bronte's novel.

"Did you read any of the books here, T'Pol?" he asked.

"Yes I did, I hope that's not a problem."

"No, of course not. I've only just noticed they were moved."

"I apologize; I thought I'd returned them to the correct place."

"It's not a big deal. What did you read?"

"Jane Eyre."

"Interesting choice. Do you remember seeing a leather book? It had some papers in it."

God he hoped she hadn't looked inside. He'd have been mortified. Long ago he'd written letters to T'Pol while on Enterprise expressing his feelings for her on paper. They were more of an outlet for him; he'd never considered showing them to her. Now for a second he feared the worst – had she read them? Where was the book?

She stood up and joined him by the bookshelf. "Is this the book in question?" she asked pointing to a brown leather book on the shelf above.

"Ah, yes, that's the one." How had it got up there? He distinctly recalled it being next to Jane Eyre. "I was sure I'd had it on the shelf below."

"Perhaps you are mistaken."

"Maybe. Guess it's not important."

"Did you finish the book?" he asked.

"Pardon?"

"Jane Eyre – did you finish reading it?" It seemed odd that she hadn't heard him the first time, as if her mind was on something else. Her eyes seemed fixed on the leather book above. Why did he have a bad feeling about that? If she had read the letters, would she tell him? Vulcans didn't lie, but maybe she wanted to save him embarrassment. It would make them both uncomfortable if she admitted that she'd seen the letters.

"Yes, I did. It was an interesting novel."

"I have several movie versions if you'd be interested in watching them."

"Tonight?"

"Yes, unless you rather I take you back to the hotel."

"I would like to see the movie version."

"Great."

He picked one made by the BBC – it was the longest version, and they'd probably only manage the first part as it was four hours in length. But he felt she'd appreciate that one the most as it stuck closely to the book. The other versions were good as well, but considerably shorter with several omissions.

It was 11pm when they'd finished the first part but T'Pol seemed to be enjoying it to such an extent that they decided to continue onto the next part. Two hours later and they'd finished the epic.

Jonathan yawned.

"I apologize for keeping you up so late, Jonathan."

"Nonsense, I enjoyed it. I'm just a little tired."

"Thank you for enabling me to see this. It was as you said very close to the book version, and I felt the actors did a good job of portraying the characters."

It had been time well spent. Instead of concentrating on his own problems he'd got engrossed in the plight of Rochester and the young woman, Jane. He remembered how much his mother had loved this story – it was her favourite book and film. She'd often sat up late at night watching it not long after his father had died. For some reason she found the story comforting. To keep her company he'd watched it with her, though being a boy of twelve he'd found the story sappy and girly. Now he could appreciate the story for what it was – a romantic classic.

T'Pol stood up from the sofa, saying she would walk back to the hotel and didn't want to trouble him for a lift. Jonathan wouldn't hear of it, telling her this was no time of night for her to be out walking. On the spur of the moment he asked her to spend the night.

"I don't think that would be appropriate."

"Course it would. I'll be a perfect gentleman. You have my word."

"Then I'll take the sofa bed out here, and I don't wish to discuss it."

He smiled, glad that she'd agreed and nodded in regard to her using the sofa bed. "I'll make it up for you while you use the bathroom. There's a spare toothbrush in the bathroom cabinet above the sink."

She thanked him. "Oh and you can sleep in one of my baggy T-shirts if you like."

She thought that was a good idea. He walked over to his bedroom closet and retrieved something appropriate along with a dark green bathrobe. It would be too big for her, but she probably wouldn't want to be seen in just the T-shirt. He handed her both items as they met outside the bathroom.

"Thank you."

As he made up the sofa bed he could hardly believe that she'd accepted his invitation to spend the night. Considering how she'd practically sprinted out of the apartment on his return from Fiji this was unusual. He wanted to ask her but didn't want to jinx the pleasant evening they'd shared.

He was living in the moment for now – enjoying every minute he could steal away with her. If she took up Erika's offer there'd be very little time left. And tomorrow he'd have to deal with deciding on a therapist and finding some solution to the Illyrian problem. For tonight he just wanted to enjoy T'Pol.

She returned in ten minutes dressed in his green robe. The color suited her, bringing out her eyes, even though the sleeves were too long.

"You look lovely," he cooed.

"Thank you for preparing the bed," she said, seemingly ignoring the compliment.

"Sure, thanks for keeping me company. It's been nice tonight, hasn't it?"

"Yes."

He sat down next to her on the folded out bed. "So why can't it always be this way, T'Pol?" He was treading on thin ice but he had to know.

"Well for one, you've been easy to get along with."

"Ah, I see. So most of the time it's my fault then, huh?"

"You can think of a time when it was mine?" she asked, with a raised eyebrow.

"Well I did try to reach out to you when I got back, but you were so angry."

"How did you expect me to react, Jonathan? Just forget you'd run off with Rebecca and welcome you with open arms?"

At last they were talking about this. "No, but I wanted a chance to explain."

"I think I know what your explanation is."

"You do?"

"I have a theory. It came to me at the barbecue when you explained how you'd ended your relationship with Captain Hernandez."

"Oh." He wasn't sure what she was driving at, but maybe that was because it was late and he was tired.

"You're tired, you should go to bed, Jonathan."

"No, I'd like to hear your theory."

"We can talk at breakfast."

"I won't sleep until I hear your theory."

"Very well, though I did hint at it before."

"Okay, well I've got a bad memory – so can you humor me and just spell it out?"

"I said that I wouldn't be surprised if your white lie as you humans call it, to Captain Hernandez wasn't the first time you'd employed such a tactic. You'd tried to spare her feelings but in doing so you'd told her an untruth."

"Okay and what does that have to do with you and me?" She was on the right lines but he didn't want to give himself away so easily.

"My theory is that you misled me as to the current status of your relationship with Rebecca to protect me. Of course this was a totally illogical thing to do, but it seems humans do the most illogical things."

"Okay, I'd say you were warm. But I never planned it out that way, it just happened. And then it sort of snowballed."

"I see."

"I had your best interests at heart. You have to believe that. I mean okay, yeah to you it seems illogical and probably stupid – but we have this saying on Earth – sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind."

"I've lived with humans for almost four years now and I still can not wrap my head around some of your ideas. What a pity you do not adopt certain Vulcan ways. The truth is always the best way, Jonathan."

"Theoretically, maybe, but practically, not always. Imagine if we all went around telling the truth – how many people would get hurt."

"I disagree," she said.

"You're entitled, but let me give you a simple example. Say Hoshi is wearing a new dress off-duty and asks if you like it. It's a color or design which you find unattractive – do you tell her that or do you do the polite thing and say she looks nice?"

"I would be polite and say I think another color or design would suit her better."

"Okay, I guess my example didn't work. You feel telling the truth is the best way."

"Yes."

"T'Pol," he said in a hushed tone, "I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry I tried to protect you. I'm sorry I went to Fiji. When I was straight with you, you wouldn't take no for an answer, so insinuating that something was going on with Rebecca seemed the only way to let you go."

"And then you returned and you'd changed your mind and thought I would fall into your arms?"

"Not exactly."

"Porthos was part of the ruse as well, wasn't he?"

"What do you mean?" She was good. She'd worked out Rebecca and now Porthos without even a clue from him. But at least they were finally airing their feelings.

"Today at Ocean Beach – you told me how much Porthos loves the sand. Why wouldn't he have enjoyed himself in Fiji? Why did you leave him behind?"

"Well if I'd asked you to stay at the apartment you'd have said no." No point twisting the truth, she wanted it served up straight.

She stood up and went to the living room window, peering outside. He could hear her inhale deeply. Was she mad? No, Vulcans didn't get mad, right?

"What a complicated web you weave, Jonathan."

He approached her cautiously. "So what now?"

"I think we should get some sleep, don't you? You've had a long day, you must be emotionally overwrought. "

"You don't hate me then?" he asked.

She gave him a slight frown. "You said something similar last night after the barbecue. How do you come up with such notions?"

"You didn't answer my question."

"Does it need answering? Even when I didn't like you after we met that first day at Starfleet Medical, I never hated you. Hate is such a strong emotion. I believe you are exaggerating again."

Okay, so maybe he was. He couldn't think clearly when so much was hanging in the balance and at this moment he was trying to figure out whether their relationship was salvageable and if there was any reason for him to hope. Last night he'd told himself there wasn't a chance in hell that she'd ever want him again. And yet today things had taken such a different turn of events, from the moment the elevator doors at Starfleet had opened and he'd seen her standing there.

"I told you yesterday I will always be your friend. If that needs reiterating then I'll do so. I will always be your friend, Jonathan."

He gave her a half smile but inside he was disappointed. Friendship just didn't cut it anymore, he wanted more. Perhaps he shouldn't be greedy and be grateful that at least they had this. Though if she took the position on Columbia even that would be taken away from him.

"Thank you, T'Pol."

"I think we should go to bed."

He answered that it was a good idea and bid her goodnight. He crawled under the covers and turned out the side lamp, staring up at the ceiling. His mind was racing, trying to digest everything she'd said. So she knew the truth about Rebecca – but even that hadn't changed the status quo between them. Before Fiji she'd been persistent about wanting a relationship with him, now she seemed content with being friends.

Just my luck, he thought. Guess I missed the boat. Oh maybe she'd been mistaken, interpreted an attraction for him as something more and realized her error. She'd probably fallen out of infatuation now and friendship satisfied her needs.

So she never really cared – not in that way, she never loved me, he thought. Coming to that conclusion was almost as painful as being rejected the night before in her hotel room. But his reasoning was sound and it all made sense now.

The silence in his room was unusual, where was Porthos? Usually he could hear the animal's breathing as he slept. He tiptoed into the living room to investigate and found Porthos curled up at the bottom of the sofa bed. T'Pol was fast asleep seemingly ignorant of her sleeping partner.

So Porthos preferred to be with T'Pol. Go figure. Jonathan returned to his room – alone.

T'Pol had been in a deep sleep when she heard her name being called. At first she thought she must have imagined it. Then she heard it again and recognized the voice as belonging to Jonathan. He sounded in distress. She climbed out of bed, knocking her knee against the coffee table – that hurt, but she ignored the pain as she rushed into his room.

He was tossing and turning, his eyes shut but he kept calling out her name. He had tears running down his face. She caught hold of his shoulders and tried to rouse him from his nightmare.

"Jonathan, wake up!" she ordered. He tried to wriggle out of her grasp but she was too strong for him. "What did you do to her? How could you!"

She needed to awaken him immediately. She shook him hard, but still no response.

"Let me go!" he shouted.

She tried another tactic – she slapped him across the face. She disliked doing this but hoped it would garner some reaction.

His eyes opened and he looked completely confused. He focused in on her. "T'Pol?"

"Yes it's me. You had a nightmare." She turned on his side lamp so he could see that it really was her and not some illusion.

"Oh my God, you're alive!" She suddenly found herself wrapped in his arms, his hot breath on her neck coming in short pants as if he'd just run a race.

"Jonathan, are you all right?"

"I am now," he whispered, gazing into her eyes. "I thought you were dead."

He stroked her cheek gently and then kissed it.

"Jonathan—" she began, but wasn't permitted to finish.

He brushed his lips against hers. She didn't know what to do. Part of her ached to respond to him, but the logical voice in her head warned her not to go down this path. He pressed his lips to hers once again; attempting to deepen the kiss, but then withdrew as he realized she wasn't responding.

He released her. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that."

He hung his head down, looking embarrassed and vulnerable.

"Your dream upset you, would you like to talk about it?" she asked, not wishing to discuss the kiss or make any reference to it. It was best forgotten.

"It was just a bad dream. It's not a big deal. I've had quite a few since returning from the Expanse."

"I didn't know. You've dreamt of me before?"

"What time is it?" he asked, obviously not wanting to answer her question.

"Just after 5am."

"I apologize for waking you."

"It's not necessary."

He rubbed his cheek, as if it was sore. "I'm afraid I had to slap you to awaken you. Nothing else worked."

"Oh…it's okay. Thanks for waking me up."

"Is there anything you need?" You gazed at her with such longing in his eyes that she felt uncomfortable and had to look away. "Perhaps a glass of water?" she added.

"I'll get it, don't trouble yourself." Was he angry? She couldn't be certain but there seemed a note of irritation in his voice. She did feel bad about rejecting him again, but returning his kiss would only serve to confuse them both.

She'd wanted to… and the explanation was on the tip of her tongue as she followed him into the kitchen. If it would soothe some of the hurt, maybe she should just tell him the truth. Wasn't that what she'd preached to him last night? How Vulcans valued truth?

Yet she felt as if no good could come of it. If she admitted how she felt it wouldn't help him. He might temporarily feel better, but it wouldn't bring the Illyrians home and it wouldn't erase his guilt. Also, she was leaving for Vulcan on Friday and was still debating her decision to join Columbia. No, it would be unfair to say anything of her emotional attachment to him.

Now she understood what he'd been trying to tell her last night – how humans were cruel to be kind. The concept finally made sense.

She watched him pour water into a glass and gulp it down. "You didn't tell me about your dream."

"Dreams are private, T'Pol."

"I thought we were friends."

"That doesn't change what I just said."

"Oh…I see. I thought it might help if you talked about it. You thought I'd died?" She remembered the tears streaming down his face and him asking someone what they'd done with her.

"I'd rather not dwell on it."

"Of course, I apologize." Why did this feel like some kind of punishment? As if he was paying her back for not returning his display of affection. Perhaps it was her imagination but he was being cold and distant. Last night things had been pleasant and cordial, now she felt like they'd taken two giant steps backwards.

He finished his water and returned to bed. T'Pol watched him close his bedroom door and felt like she was being shut out of his world. It was as if they were at cross purposes and neither one knew how to rectify that. It was a stale mate – and it would continue if one of them didn't attempt to break it.

She returned to bed and noticed for the first time that Porthos was fast asleep in the left corner, completely oblivious to the goings on. He must be a sound sleeper, she thought. As she climbed into bed her left knee reminded her that she'd knocked it against the coffee table. It was throbbing.

She attempted to ignore it and go to sleep.

Jonathan Archer had never felt more of a fool. Couldn't he take no for an answer? He was just glad he hadn't acted like this around Maggie – he'd taken no for an answer and gone to lick his wounds. Thankfully he hadn't hounded Maggie trying to convince her to marry him.

But with T'Pol he just seemed to love getting rejected. He'd done it two nights in a row! Hadn't he learnt anything? I'm as stupid and naïve as I was when I was 24, he decided.

Perhaps it was because his feelings for T'Pol were so strong that when they took over his memory of being rejected appeared to be momentarily erased. Whatever it was, he was still a fool.

Oh sure he'd thought she was dead. The dream had been the most vivid so far and had scared the bee-jeepers out of him. When he'd opened his eyes and seen her sitting there by his bedside his only thought had been rapturous joy at her being alive. Taking her in his arms and kissing her had seemed the most natural thing to do.

It was only when she didn't react that he felt he was being doused with cold water and reality sunk in. Then feelings of embarrassment over took him. And when she'd asked him if there was anything he wanted, well the only answer he could think was that he wanted her.

He wanted to hold her, kiss her, and make sure she was safe. He wished to reassure himself that his dream had been nothing but a figment of his warped imagination and that she was alive and well. But he had no right to ask for such things.

They were just friends.

He thought back to the dream and holding T'Pol's limp, lifeless body. He recalled running down the corridors of a ship, not Enterprise, but an alien ship, looking for her. She'd been kidnapped and he'd led an extensive search leading him to this ship. He knew he was close by but someone stood in the way. A tall dark figure appeared from the shadows.

"You're too late."

"Where is she?" Archer yelled. "What did you do to her?"

"It seems Vulcans don't tolerate Trellium well, Captain."

"Where is she? If you don't tell me—"

"What will you do, Captain? You already abandoned me and my ship, left us to drift out in space defenseless. Well now you'll know what it feels like to be lost. You're too late – she's dead."

"No, you're lying."

"I used the Trellium you gave me, ironic isn't it?"

He pushed the Illyrian aside and ran to the end of the corridor. He found a small cell with a woman lying face down in it. No, it couldn't be…but it was. It was T'Pol. He turned her to face him, but her life force had already been extinguished. He guessed she'd been given a lethal dose of Trellium.

"Leave her," the Illyrian boomed trying to pry her out of his hands.

"Let me go!" Archer had yelled and then he'd woken up.

He felt afraid to go back to sleep – this had been the worst dream yet, even worse than the last dream where he'd found a drowned version of his younger self because that at least had ended well. He sat up in bed, running his hand over his mouth.

"Oh, God," he sighed. He needed to see a therapist just to deal with these nightmares. He imagined snuggling up to T'Pol's lithe body would soon put an end to those, but there was more likelihood of Porthos learning to speak and use a toilet then that ever happening.

He opened the draw to his bedside cabinet and pulled out the PADD that Forrest had given him. Steve's name was on the top of the list but Jonathan had already decided he wasn't going to see his old friend for help. He scrolled through the other names and the name Dr Jennifer Wade piqued his interest. Her brief bio said she specialized in dealing with post-traumatic stress disorders and nightmares. Hmm…bad dreams — seemed like she was just the ticket.

He decided he'd give her office a call first thing in the morning and set up an appointment.

TBC