June 29th 2166

Spacecraft Merlin

Interstellar Space

Trip laid on his back on his bed, hands clasped together over his stomach. They rose slightly with each intake of breath, and lowered with every exhale. Each breath marked the passage of time in the vast darkness of his quarters. Four hours passed as he breathed in, and out. He lifted one hand off of his stomach, wiping it wearily across his face. In two days he would either be facing T'Pol for the first time in months, or facing a blank screen. Three days ago he was a hundred percent certain T'Pol would be there, but as the days passed agonizingly slowly by, doubt began to creep in. If she wasn't there in two days, it would confirm a suspicion he thought he had put to bed a decade ago; that he loved T'Pol a whole lot more than she loved him. Sighing, he wiped a hand across his face. Or, maybe worse, after everything he had done, had put her through, she no longer loved him.

The thought felt like a punch to the gut. The trust and love they had built between the two of them had been hard won. There had been so many times it could have slipped away over the decade and a half they had known each other. Trip smiled slightly at the unbidden memory of their first meeting. Had it really been that long? Him offering his hand, her turning her nose up and ignoring him. A young engineer who thought he was ready to explore the universe. How utterly naive he had been. It had started there, a spark of interest. Not only was she gorgeous, but intelligent to boot. And definitely, absolutely, not interested in him. Friendship had grown between them slowly; he was man enough to admit he was jealous of how quickly T'Pol and the now Admiral Archer had built their friendship. But then something changed; and that spark of interest turned into a crush, and suddenly Trip was head over heels for the Vulcan before he had even realized he had begun.

And then she crushed his heart. Even then, she had the power to crush his heart, which he willingly gave to her to hold. What he hadn't realized at the time, and perhaps was still realizing, was he did the same to hers. She might have crushed his heart a few times, but over the last decade, he had been the one breaking her trust. And sure, he'd had good reasons. He'd gone undercover, he couldn't tell her his death had been faked. And then he'd stayed on Vulcan because he'd had to, even though he wanted to go with her. This last time… well, this last time was different. Had he pushed her too far this time? The Trip of fifteen years ago would have laughed at the idea that it wasn't T'Pol who had pushed him away. That Trip would have been in utter disbelief that T'Pol and he had actually made a real relationship together. And the Trip of ten years ago would not have believed it either; newly in the spy business. Had he thrown it all away? And for what?

Cursing to himself, Trip pushed himself into a sitting position, groaning as his muscles ached. He wasn't considerably old, even by human standards, but his body had been through more than any body should be through in an entire lifetime. He swung his legs over to the edge of the bed, and planted his feet on the floor next to the bed. He placed his hands on either side of his body and then pushed himself into a standing position. Well, it was 04:00, what better time to start the day? He might as well stare into the vastness of the universe rather than the vastness of his quarters. It was a better view after all.

XX

After months of flying with a companion, it being alone on the Merlin felt strange and comfortable in equal amounts. Devna had been a constant presence the last few months. She understood him in a way that didn't need words. A fellow prisoner of their experiences. She had freed herself, and he was still trapped in the prison of his own making. It was also nice not to have someone aboard who could look right through him as though he was see-through. Trip sniffed at his resequenced black coffee. It spelled like burnt dung nuggets, but it was better than nothing. He sipped the coffee, scrunching his nose slightly as he did. It tasted as bad as it smelled; but after months of having no coffee, the bitter taste grounded him. It almost felt normal. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend he was on Earth, or even Vulcan, having a morning coffee and enjoying the solitude of the morning before the others awoke. He tightened his grip on his mug before taking another sip of the terrible coffee. He had picked it up when he and Devna had parted ways for good, only a day and a half before. He smiled lightly at the memory.

Devna had her travel bag slung over her shoulder. She was looking around at the city, smiling at the tall buildings and varieties of people passing by. "Yes, I think I will fit in just fine here." She had turned to look at him then, her smiling dropping slightly. Trip knew how he probably looked. A fucking mess. Devna took a few steps towards him, then placed her bag down gently next to him before gathering him into a sudden hug. Trip had been bewildered for a few moments, before placing his arms around her and hugging back in earnest. She had been his only companion for months. A sounding board. An extremely irritating and perceptive companion, who he wished several times he could throw out the airlock. But now, at the moment of their parting, he felt more alone than ever. Devna pulled back from the hug first, then leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. "Thank you." She said, smiling at him sadly. Then, she gathered her bag, hoisted it back on her shoulder, and turned away. Within seconds, she had disappeared into the crowd. She was gone from his life as quickly as she had appeared. She had her freedom, in more ways than just the physical sense of not belonging or owing someone. She was truly free. And even as she weaved her way through the crowd, her footsteps were chosen by her and only her. Trip felt frozen on the spot, even as he knew she was far away now. She might be bargaining for a place to stay, or ripping off some poor schlep who didn't know what was coming to them. After what could have been seconds, minutes, or hours, he finally shook himself out of whatever daze he had been in. For the first time in a long time, he felt truly and utterly alone.

Trip took one last swig of the terrible coffee, staring out at the stars. Nothing like looking at the stars to realize how tiny, insubstantial, and alone one is. On some of those stars, families were sitting down to eat together. They were going about their lives, like any other day. Perhaps they knew they weren't alone in the universe, perhaps they didn't. And among those stars, somewhere, maybe out of sight, was Earth. He remembered the days of staring out the window of his quarters on Enterprise and trying to find Earth among the stars. It might be an inborn trait for humans to look for their home planet every time they got to see stars. Trip wondered if it was a trait built into all sentient beings, because he was pretty sure he had seen Phlox and even T'Pol looking out the windows in the mess hall, lost in their own thoughts, facing the direction of their home planets. This time, Trip wasn't looking for Earth among the stars, it had not been his home for some time. No, he was looking out among the stars, wondering where among them T'Pol was. Was she looking at the sky from Earth? Or a different sky on Vulcan? Was she on Endeavor, looking at the same stars he was? Was she looking for him among the stars too? He felt like a forlorn teenager with those thoughts, but they were all he had; at least until he logged onto the channel, and either saw T'Pol, or didn't. He longed for a scotch, or a whiskey. Even a cheap wine would do. All he had was this disgusting coffee. He sighed, and went to synthesize himself some more. At least he could pretend he was somewhere else, when he was holding the mug.

XXXX

June 30th 2166

Starfleet Headquarters

Archer reached for a vintage bottle of wine. He grabbed two glasses, filling his to the top, and his companion's a quarter of the way. He slid one glass across the table as he sat down across from her. "I know you don't usually drink wine, but I figured we both needed it." He said, gently. It wasn't an order from her superior officer, just an offering from a friend. She reached for the glass, sniffed at the contents, and then, to his surprise, drank the quarter of the wine all at once. Her ears took on a slightly green tinge as she placed the glass back on the table delicately.

"Thank you, Admiral." She said, and then placed her hands on her lap loosely. Archer observed her silently. This was not good, not good at all.

"T'Pol…" he began, unsure how to continue. T'Pol had been one of his closest confidants over nearly two decades. She had been a sounding board, who often disagreed with him, loudly. She had been his first officer, the person he trusted to take care of the ship and crew when he could not. She was the Captain of his flag ship. And most importantly, she was his friend. He liked to think that as much of a comfort to him she had been over the years, he had been one too. And if the look on her face was anything to go on, she was in need of that right now. Not that she would ever admit that her face was that readable. She would spout that Vulcans don't have emotions, the usual rhetoric. Surak had been in his mind once; and he knew that the whole 'Vulcans don't have emotions' thing was complete biffle. They felt, and they felt deeply. That's why they had to control their emotions so much; because if they expressed what they felt, it would be too much. Archer had seen T'Pol like this several times over their friendship. Most of the time it had to do with her being torn between logic and emotions. And if he had to guess, it had nothing to do with the negotiations that were currently taking place. Although those negotiations were tense, Archer had no doubt where T'Pol stood on the debate. Non-interference, non-contamination of a culture. There was no sense of being torn on this issue for her, she was resolutely on one side. It was something else. And for it to be affecting her so much it was detectable meant only one thing. It had to do with the former chief engineer of the Enterprise. As far as Archer knew, neither had heard from him in months. And although Trip had evaded death by the skin of teeth several times over, this time appeared to be the real deal. T'Pol had not been willing to admit this; but as Archer observed her, he wondered if the finality had hit her. He took a long sip of his wine, then, placed it down, and leaned in slightly on his desk. "T'Pol, what's going on?" She looked at him, wide eyed.

"I don't know what you mean." T'Pol said, predictably It was so familiar that Archer could not prevent a grin from spreading across his face. He stood, and made his way around the desk, then perched on the corner closest to her.

"Is it something I need to sweep the room for?" He asked, in half jest. When T'Pol did not answer, he frowned. "Is it something I need to sweep the room for?" He asked again, tone serious. His heart rate was increasing steadily in the beat of silence. Then, T'Pol nodded, incrementally. That could be only one thing, this did have to do with Trip. "Okay." He said, and began doing the checks that Trip had taught him. He looked for all the listening devices and other nefarious spying equipment. He could feel T'Pol's eyes following him as he completed the check. Being satisfied the check was complete, he perched himself on the corner closest to T'Pol. "Tell me." He said, hoping it did not come out as strangled as he thought it sounded."

XX

Archer laughed. Not a 'ha-ha' laugh. Bordering on hysterical laughter. He could feel his face reddening, and could hear his wheeze. T'Pol just stared at him, her face not betraying any emotion, except for a raised eyebrow. Struggling to gather his breath, he coughed. Then "ahem," until he could breathe.

"I did not anticipate that this would be considered 'funny'." T'Pol said bluntly. That almost caused Archer to go into another laughing fit, but he swallowed, and got up and turned away from her until he felt his shoulders relax. When he felt no longer in danger of looking like a mad man again, he retook his seat across from her, and grabbed his glass.

"No, no. It is not funny. Just ridiculous." He took a long sip of the wine; he would have preferred scotch at this time, but hindsight was 20/20. T'Pol was still watching him as he finished the glass, and began pouring another one. He gestured to her glass, and she moved it slightly closer. He filled it up, just in case. He took another gulp of wine, if only to give himself a moment to think. T'Pol, he noticed, took a delicate sip of hers. "He's an idiot." Archer slapped his knee. "I've known this man for nearly thirty years, and he's a goddamn idiot." T'Pol did not respond, but she did that, not smiling, smile, that Archer prided himself on recognizing. "Are you going to meet him on the channel tomorrow?" T'Pol held the bowl of the wine glass between her palms, and looked down at her lap.

"I do not know." she said simply. She sounded so forlorn, and yes, even heartbroken. Archer wanted to give her the biggest hug he could muster, but restrained himself. That would do nothing to help her. She looked up from her lap, meeting his eyes. "Tell me what to do, Jonathan." She rarely called him by his name, but this was not a moment between officers, this was a moment between friends. And although she did not sound pleading, Vulcans could never sound pleading, she sounded on the verge of desperation.

"I wish I could." He said, as gently as he could. T'Pol nodded, not her usual sharp nod, but a slow, understanding nod. "This is a personal decision, one that I cannot, and will not, influence, as a commanding officer, or a friend." He sighed slightly. "All I can offer is my presence, to be someone you can lean on as you decide whatever you're going to decide." T'Pol nodded again, looking at her lap. "Oh, and don't report to headquarters tomorrow. I'm sure you'd rather be on your ship."

"I do not know if I will be on that channel tomorrow." She said, not looking up.

"Yes, you do." Archer said simply, leaning back in his chair.

XXX

July 1st, 2166

Spacecraft Merlin

Interstellar Space

This was it. Five days had edged by so slowly it felt like time was going backwards. Would she be there? Trip took a breath, pressed the button….

And was met with a blank screen