Title: Herculean Tasks – Chapter 9 – The Other Side (Part 2)

Rating: K+

Category: gen/het

Pairings: Davenport/Goddard

Note: Takes place during "Break on Through to the Other Side." Some dialog lifted directly from the episode. I don't own Space Cases; I just like to play in the show's sandbox.

Summary: T.J.'s trip inside the Christa's computer provides clarity for some members of the crew, and more questions for others. What secrets are Thelma and the Christa hiding? (Part 2 because I wrote a long chapter for Part 1)

Chapter 9: The Other Side (Part 2)

Seth was left to work in the Command Post while T.J. was rendered a mere observer. He sorted through the mess of cables, expecting her to offer some programming expertise. A stretch of heavy silence continued before he sighed and directed his full attention to the screen. "You're quiet."

"I thought you liked me better mute," she fired back hotly.

"I didn't want your, uh, current condition to hit the kids all at once. I panicked." Seth frowned and decided, "But that's not an excuse. I'm sorry."

"Panic is a response I understand all too well, and my reaction was no better," she conceded. "I forgive you."

A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he mused, "I wish I could've seen their faces when you appeared on their devices. Must've at least felt like pretty good payback for the time they convinced you I'd been flushed out the airlock."

"I don't…" T.J.'s image glitched. "I don't recall."

Seth stood rigid as a chill worked its way through him. "The kids' computer simulation? Right before Ninestein teleported onto the ship?" He was met with a furrowed brow and shake of the head, and he fought back even more panic threatening to bubble to the surface as he continued, "The kids created a computer simulation to convince you I'd blown up in space. You were livid. You have to remember that."

"I…I'm sorry. I don't… I will remember, I'm sure of it." T.J. closed her eyes in an effort to tune out distractions and temper her mounting shame. "Please tell me again."

Seth was glad she couldn't see the tears in his eyes as he stared in shock. He cleared his throat. "That's, uh, that's really all there is to tell. It was just one of their pranks. But it would be nice to get some payback at some point, eh?"

Her voice was hollow when she answered, "Yes, I suppose it would."

Seth resumed working through the wires, distracting himself from his worries. He touched one with a pair of pliers, and the ship lurched to the side as T.J. chuckled.

"Commander, stop. That tickles!"

Seth called for Thelma through a sigh of resignation. A moment passed before he realized that she probably shut herself down after he relieved her of duty. He turned to face the viewscreen and thought back to a few weeks prior, when he'd hallucinated that T.J. was fading away: a "mild delusion playing to his fears" that scared him more than he'd been willing to admit. The thought of losing her terrified him then, and it sickened him now as Elmira's prediction echoed in his mind:

"Dreadful moans down every hall.

For days, your ghost on every wall."

T.J. had not been able to control her destiny with technology and a self-fulfilling prophecy as she'd hoped. Instead, Seth's worst fear had come to life.

He returned his attention to the screen. "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you from this."

"There is nothing you could have done. It was an accident."

"That's what scares me the most: that horrible things could happen to you and the kids, right onboard the ship, without warning." Seth gulped as simultaneous waves of guilt and understanding hit him. "The thought that I can't protect you and that I've failed you… Teej, is this how you feel out here? Is this how you feel all the time?"

Her expression softened. "The plight you are describing does sound very similar to my own experience, even if my chronic anxieties do not make logical sense."

"What about emotion ever does make sense?" He chuckled bitterly, still upset with himself. "Do you think I did the right thing with Thelma?"

"I know that you do not believe so."

"That's not what I asked." He gathered his thoughts. "We know she malfunctions from time to time, but it's always been harmless stuff. Now, if she's rerouting our course… If she's a danger to us…"

"What happened to me was an accident," T.J. reiterated. "And I suppose I did not need to accuse Thelma as I did. Bova and I chose to enter the Secret Room. However, Thelma's presence prior to our arrival is still cause for concern."

"I'm reasonably sure she wasn't programmed to have malicious intent, but she doesn't have a conscience either. She's just a series of programs inside a machine, and happens to look like a person, right? So why do I feel so rotten about how I treated her?"

"Am I just a series of programs now?" T.J. wondered in a small voice.

"What? No! Of course not."

"How can you be certain? How do you know I am not a program that was created to look and behave in a particular manner? I am already having trouble with my memory. I am not wholly myself. I could simply be a program that—"

"You're not!"

"But how do you know—?"

"Because you can't be!" Seth fired back, stubbornly.

He half-expected T.J.'s image to flinch, and he was shocked when the only acknowledgment of his outburst was a look of regret that passed over her pixelatedfeatures. It was an odd role reversal: her apologetic expression in response to his panic.

"How can you be certain?" she wondered again, this time with an unexpected gentle curiosity.

"Because the real T.J. Davenport needs to be here. I'm certain that I need my second in command. I've told you before that I can't do this with anyone else, and I can't do it alone."

"You are more than capable—"

"We are going to get you back with your memories intact," he insisted. "There is no alternative."

"I can think of thousands—"

"And I won't let myself think of one." His eyes bore into hers through the screen. "Please just let me have this: let me have hope. Let me have hope that I… Let me have hope that we can save you."

T.J.'s image distorted as the ship shuddered. Seth stumbled over to the viewscreen, and the crackling static tingled over his skin as he rested his hand on the surface and begged T.J. to focus. When her image finally stabilized, her panic was palpable.

"What in the universe was that?!" she shrieked.

"I don't know. Are you okay?"

"Of course I am not okay, Commander!"

His heart plummeted as he realized this was the second time she'd referred to him by his title in their private conversation. "It's Seth."

"Pardon?"

"My name," he reiterated as his shoulders slumped, "is Seth."

T.J. sputtered as she scrutinized him, finally scoffing and retorting, "Such familiarity does not exactly seem appropriate, Commander."

"We're friends, T.J. You haven't called me 'Commander' when it's been just the two of us since…"

"I am certain I do not know what you mean. I am your superior, and you will treat me as such, especially if you have any desire to return to the STARDOGS once your sentence has concluded."

The expression of disappointment she directed toward him was one he hadn't seen since his first year at the Starcademy, back when they had been acquaintances at best. He was surprised by how small his voice sounded when he said, "Please call me Seth," only for her to huff at him in disapproval.

"When we get you out of there, I'll have the ship make you waffles and strawberries," he offered, and his voice sounded hollow to his own ears. "And as much tea as you like: English breakfast, two sugars."

"My favorite." There was a note of awe in her voice even as her features settled into a skeptical, puzzled stare, in an unspoken question.

"I help you and you help me, Teej. Remember? You remember everything, and something as significant as… That memory must be preserved, right?"

The lights in the Command Post dimmed, and T.J.'s image glitched as she blinked rapidly before her eyes narrowed in concentration. "Pinky promise!" she finally blurted out as the lights snapped back on.

The shipwide comm chirped, and Harlan's voice cut through the tension, providing some much-needed relief as he announced his location at corridor 22 on level 9 with a triumphant, "I found the Secret Room!"

Seth addressed the screen as he grabbed his compupad and held it aloft. "Come with me."

T.J.'s face disappeared from the large monitor and reappeared on his handheld device. "I'm with you."

He nodded as he shrugged on his jacket and placed his compupad in its inner pocket, ignoring Harlan's clarification that "Catalina and Radu found the Secret Room." Entering the jump tube code for their destination, Seth muttered, "Hang on."

Seth met the kids in the corridor and ordered Harlan to take his place on watch. Bova reassured him that there was a hollow spot behind the wall, but after learning the phase activation was inside the room, they were at a loss for how to proceed.

Turning to the most optimistic of the bunch, Seth instructed, "Rosie: you and Cat keep talking to Miss Davenport."

Catalina cocked her head to the side in thought. She stepped forward, deciding, "Something's wrong."

"What do you mean?"

"Suzee and I think you want to distract her. What's going on, Commander?"

He lowered his voice. "I don't know if we'll have much time to restore her before…before it's no longer possible. Keep her engaged, and have her focus on something. Let me know if she starts slipping."

Cat bristled. "Slipping?"

"Glitching. Forgetting. Behaving unlike herself."

Catalina frowned as she rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder. She spared a glance at the compupad before meeting the commander's eyes again, giving him a dutiful nod and a sympathetic smile.

Seth could hear the girls speaking to their teacher as he turned his attention to Radu and the solid phasing wall:

"Suzee and I think it would be fun to access the ship's systems from the inside," Catalina offered. "To have the entire Infocore in the back of your mind has to be cool, right? What's it like in there?"

"I was intrigued for a while," T.J. conceded, "but it is rather overwhelming, and I fear I am unable to concentrate long enough to become a subject matter expert on any one topic."

"You're already an expert on so many things. You can research more from the outside later." Rosie resolved, "Don't worry, Miss Davenport. We're gonna get you outta there."

A flat tinny voice that barely resembled T.J.'s usual expressive one answered, "My previous concern for recorporealization is no longer an objective."

Seth whirled around, locking eyes with a distraught Cat as Rosie confirmed his fear aloud, "Miss Davenport! You're actually turning into a machine!"

"That does not compute."

"Fight it, Miss Davenport," Rosie encouraged. "Remember who you really are!"

Seth held his breath, waiting for an acknowledgement from T.J. Instead of confirming that she was okay, a weary, "Hurry," was her only reply.

If only Thelma were here to help, Seth thought.

"Commander!" It wasn't Thelma, but Harlan who suddenly appeared before him, urging him to listen to an audio file on his compupad. As it happened, Thelma had recorded a farewell message to the crew in her journal before jettisoning herself out into space. "What do we do, Commander?"

T.J. would know, Seth thought.

"I'll tell you what we do!" Bova chimed in. He grabbed the compupad and began working as he explained, "We edit Thelma's message so we've got the exact words she said when she walked out of the Secret Room."

"You mean the phasing wall might be activated by her voice?" Seth reasoned.

"Let's find out," Bova said, and he sounded much more hopeful than the last time Seth heard him say those words.

Seth briefly turned back toward where Cat and Rosie stood. He met the Saturnian's eyes, and registered the panic they held. They were running out of time.

"That's...all...until...next...report," Thelma's recording chirped from the compupad. To Seth's relief, the wall began to glow almost immediately.

Bova nodded toward Cat, and the two of them hurried through the barrier, leaving Seth praying they would free T.J. in time. He felt a warm hand on his arm and turned to see Rosie giving him an uncertain smile.

"They'll all be okay. You'll see," she said, though the words of encouragement sounded hollow.

Seth spared a glance down at the compupad, fearing what he might find. "T.J., are you alright?"

She didn't answer; the screen fizzled to black.

T.J. flew through the Christa's computer systems, registering mosaics of data flickering around her as she rushed by. Through the digital cacophony, she could hear muffled conversation. After a moment's concentration, she recognized one voice as Catalina's, but what was she saying?

"...Miss Davenport!"

It was as if she'd been summoned: the dizzying swirls of pixels morphed into a broadcast of Bova and Catalina working at the controls in the Secret Room. Or rather, T.J. was the one being broadcast to them.

"I'm in!" she announced with relief. It was difficult to gather her thoughts as she explained, "There was something blocking me, but now—"

"Try and log into the phase-through program," the young engineer instructed, "and Suzee thinks that you should check on any 'Thelma' files you can access in here."

"Scanning," T.J. confirmed.

The experience was quite odd: focusing on the children through the screen while simultaneously sifting through files in her mind. She was never this distracted by her surroundings whenever she reviewed her memories. She assumed being inside a computer would aid her in her ability to multitask, and it troubled her that the opposite appeared to be true.

"Oh! I found it! Thelma!"

T.J. felt a massive amount of resistance as she continued to sort through the code for Thelma's login. Documents and folders repeatedly closed, and she needed to focus even more intensely to summon the proper files and resume her research.

"She was programmed by the former crew of this ship…" The information blipped in front of her, and she willed it to stabilize so she could continue. "...to come here once a week...to download her memory into a private ship's log, but…" The file closed again, and T.J. pushed through, continued reaching out with her mind. She seemed to absorb the information rather than read it this time, revealing, "But this system erases her memory after every time!"

"So she was telling the truth," Bova realized in frustration.

"She really didn't know about the Secret Room," Catalina added mournfully.

T.J. was regaining confidence and apparently regaining her humanity if the wave of guilt that hit her was any indication. Thelma helped the crew through so much, and T.J. needed to make things right. But why was Thelma programmed to report the crew's progress? And why erase her memory?

Why would an alien ship be named after an Earth teacher?

T.J. was certain that Thelma had known the answers to all of her questions, so they must be in an infodump within the private ship's log. 'This should be added to my required reading,' she thought to herself. A flood of files populated the directory in front of her: Thelma's programs, her log entries, her blueprints…

"Wait, there's more!" T.J. announced. "Perhaps I can learn...I can learn about the origins of the Christa from this. Let me see…"

Seth paced back and forth in the corridor, listening to the updates from within the Secret Room, wracked with guilt. They'd blamed Thelma for what had happened to T.J., and the android concluded the only solution was to discard herself into the cosmic scrap heap. But she was still presumably in one piece, and they'd be able to use the satellite's coordinates to backtrack, find her, and bring her home.

Home.

When had Seth started to think of the ship as home? No it was Thelma's home, he amended.

He stopped in his tracks as he overheard Bova and Catalina report the next developments over T.J.'s screams:

"The system's crashing!"

"Miss Davenport will be erased!"

"This should start the phase-through unit!"

"Suzee says this place is gonna explode!"

"Find the way back, Miss Davenport!"

Catalina raced from the room in a panic, skidding into Seth, who instinctively shielded the young engineer from the blast with his own body. There wasn't enough time to move further away before the entire crew was forced to avert their eyes from the ship's pyrotechnic protest. The commotion finally settled, and the ringing in Seth's ears was replaced by Catalina muttering to herself as she regained her balance.

"Grozit, no, no, no, no, no…" she chanted as she squeezed her eyes tightly shut.

Seth grasped her hand and braced himself for what he might find as he peered over his shoulder. The hall now contained an open door to the small anex, with the phase program deactivated and the system's controls melted nearly beyond recognition.

And a limp, unmoving T.J. lay supine, on a mangled metallic mess, in the center of the room.

"Miss Davenport!" Harlan called, hurrying to the teacher's side.

T.J. opened her eyes with a groan, and Seth sighed in relief as he followed the helmsman.

"You made it back before the system crashed!" Harlan exclaimed happily, grasping T.J.'s hand to gently pull her to a sitting position.

Seth knelt next to the remains of what he suspected was once a chair, using one hand to support T.J.'s back as she regained her bearings and the other to discreetly monitor her pulse at her wrist.

"Are you okay?"

"I-I'll be fine. Thank you all," she stammered, looking from one of her charges to the next. Her focus landed on Seth last. "My. That was an experience," she added, at a loss for words.

Seth rubbed her back and clocked Harlan's knowing smile in his periphery.

"Where's Thelma?" T.J. wondered. "I'm afraid we owe her an apology."

Seth turned to the young crew and ordered, "All of you, up to the Command Post. Turn this ship around, backtrack our course." He helped T.J. stand and guided her in front of him; never letting go, anxious to get her as far away from the room as possible. "C'mon, Team! Move like we've got a purpose!"

T.J. spared a glance behind her as Seth clasped her hand firmly in his. "But where is Thelma?" she asked again.

The crew stopped to turn to their teacher, and all looked uneasy. It was Catalina who revealed, "She's not on the ship."

"Well then where the blazes is she?!"

Seth allowed the hand resting on T.J.'s shoulder to trail down her arm before reaching out for the compupad containing Thelma's message. Bova reverted the audio file to the original and handed it over. T.J. listened with tears in her eyes as the android expressed absolute trust in the crew and doubt in herself, ultimately concluding that self-sacrifice was the only option to ensure she would bring no further harm to her friends.

To her Dear Friends.

Because I have no memory of what you say I have done, I must rely on your report of events. My prime directive is to help, not hurt. Since all of you no longer trust me, I must assume it is for a good reason. The satellite which we passed recently was transmitting signals. That is where I will go to find my new purpose. My faulty memory banks consider you to be the finest crew I have ever served.

Until I see you next, which will likely never be. Goodbye.

Thelma

"No, but…" T.J. locked eyes with Seth. "But she can't have..."

"We'll get her back. I promise."

She knew Thelma was a machine. She knew that. But T.J.'s muddled thoughts led her in another horrifying direction that called into question the behavior Thelma attempted to mimic. "What she did: it's suicide," she whispered.

Seth's eyes went wide, and he was sickened by T.J.'s revelation. "No! No. It's like…like she just ran away from home, is all."

Considering Thelma's innocence only upset T.J. further, and Seth wasn't sure which scenario T.J. meant to reference when she mused, "What a terribly sad, human thing for her to have done."

"Harlan, Cat, Rosie, Bova: get up to the Command Post and backtrack our course. Radu, I'll need some muscle."

The first three students hurried down the hall to the nearest set of jumptubes, while Bova stayed behind. "Commander, I wanna help. Please? I feel responsible for what happened. Please let me help fix it?"

Seth didn't have the energy to argue. "Fine. You can operate the airlock controls. I'll need an EVA suit and—"

"You are not going out there! I forbid it!" T.J. snapped as the memory of the computer simulation replayed in her mind.

"No tractor beams, okay? We'll use a tether connection. Radu: I'll need you to haul a drum of cable from the cargo hold. Meet me at the airlock. T.J., you're with me."

T.J. was shocked by the use of her first name in front of the students. "Yes," she said lamely.

"I wasn't asking, but maybe I should: You okay? Are you with me?"

"Yes, but...what can I do?"

He needed her to be present. He needed to know she was safe. He needed her to be his tether: literally and figuratively. He looked down at their joined hands, admitting, "I know I have no right to ask, and you're probably not in any condition to help, but I could really use some moral support right now."

"Be careful out there, Commander," T.J. managed as she handed him the suit helmet. She fidgeted, holding herself back from expressing any of her racing thoughts, most of which she found to be deeply personal, unprofessional, and charged with intense emotion.

He gave her a subtle doubletake at the use of his title and then a nod before addressing the crew's navigator, "Check the tether connection, Radu."

"No problem. I've got it." He gently tugged on the cord, and a horrifying rip reverberated in the small corridor.

Seth was unable to bite back his frustration, muttering, "Terrific" with a sense of sarcasm that rivaled Bova's.

"If the suit isn't airtight, you can't go out there," T.J. protested.

"I need another EVA suit."

"There's only one more here," Radu noticed. "And it's half the size of that one!"

"The airlock is not a toy," Harlan had lectured Seth, what seemed like decades ago. "You're gonna get yourself killed and the rest of us in a whole lot of trouble."

Something twisted in his gut. As capable as they were proving themselves to be, the students—the kids, the children as T.J. repeatedly referred to them—were so very young. Hell, Seth had been serving in the STARDOGS for fifteen years before Bova was even born.

He knew what needed to be done, leaving his decision implied and his voice defeated as he continued staring at the tiny EVA suit, "I'd never fit into it."

Bova stepped forward. "I would."

"Absolutely not!" T.J. insisted. "I forbid it!"

"It's either me or Rosie," Bova offered. "She's the medical officer, so we probably wouldn't want to sacrifice her. My only contribution to the crew is poking things with a stick and hoping they don't poke back."

"We will not sacrifice anyone!" T.J.'s shoulders slumped as her eyes became unfocused. "But our options for how to proceed are..." She stared at Bova through tear-filled eyes as he shrugged on the EVA suit. With shaking hands, she helped him with the zipper, even as she protested, "I do not like this: sending you out there. Sending you out there alone."

"I won't be alone. I'll be with Thelma. Although I never really understood the Buddy System. Instead of just one person wandering off, getting lost, or getting hurt, you wind up losing two."

"No. You ensure both return safely," T.J. insisted, locking eyes with the young pessimist. "Consider that an order, young man."

"We've all gotta go someday. Might as well be while doing something cool, I guess." Giving the matter another moment of thought he requested, "You can put that on my tombstone or whatever. Not that I'll have a body to be buried if it gets crushed by the black hole. But, y'know, if you want to do something symbolic."

T.J. was left stunned, able to do little more than watch Bova enter the airlock, shrug, and give two ironic thumbs up as the doors whirred closed and Seth stepped closer.

"He'll be fine, T.J."

"He'd better be."

She paced back and forth in the small corridor, listening to Bova's report. He was doing very well, all things considered. And yet…

"Sending a student out there, we must have been out of our minds!"

"It is perfectly safe!" Seth snapped at a loss for what else to say. He knew it wasn't "perfectly safe" by a longshot, but someone had to provide moral support for them to make it through this.

A subtle clink; that's all it was. There was no explosion, no rush of air, just a tiny sound that must have been deafening to Radu as the tether snapped and snaked through the airlock. The young Andromedan seemed to move in slow motion as he sprang up from his position on the floor and landed between his commanding officers to catch the cord between his fingers, with only an inch to spare. T.J. gasped, horrified, clasping her hands over her mouth as she looked between Seth and their stunned charge. She backed away from them in shock as Seth pulled Radu off the floor and helped him with the cable.

"Come on. Come on…" T.J. whispered, fidgeting, as she watched them manually haul their two crew members inside.

All Seth could hear was Catalina's "No, no, no, no…" from earlier as he put one hand in front of the other, playing a high stakes game of Tug-O-War with a damned black hole.

"We're in! We're inside!" Bova finally announced over the comm.

Radu and Seth dropped the tether with a collective sigh of relief, and T.J. called up to the Command Post, "They're in, Harlan! Go! Go!"

"We're gone!" the young helmsman announced as the thrusters powered up.

The inner airlock door opened, and Thelma awkwardly side-stepped over the threshold. She shuffled into the corridor with Bova behind her. The android cocked her head to the side as she stared at T.J. before awkwardly hugging her, mechanically patting her back.

"After being exposed to various forms of peril today, I believe our survival calls for the human tradition of a hug," Thelma explained when she released her. "Is that not correct?"

T.J. was shocked, suddenly overcome with emotion after having been denied her feelings in the Christa's computer system. Somehow, she managed to blink back her tears as she nodded, unsure whether to laugh or cry. "You are correct, Thelma. And I am beyond relieved you have returned to us safe and sound."

Bova approached, removing his helmet and sparing a glance at the broken cable. He quirked an eyebrow and shrugged. "So I guess that was a thing that happened. Pretty cool we survived, right?"

T.J. couldn't help but think of the number of ways their rescue mission could have gone awry. Her reaction was instantaneous: She gathered the boy in her arms.

Bova let out a strangled "Gah!" as she held on tight. "Miss Davenport? You're squishing me."

T.J. let go, embarrassed by her sudden emotional display, jumping back with a "Pardon," as she wiped her eyes.

Seth dismissed Thelma and the boys, waiting until they turned the corner before finally asking, "You okay, Teej?"

Her reply was to smack him on the shoulder. "Bova could have been hurt! Or worse!"

"But he wasn't. And you even said our options—"

"We are supposed to protect the children, and instead we were forced to send one of our youngest out into space to be swallowed by a black hole! We cannot keep taking risks like this, Seth. One day, one of us won't come back and it will be our fault!"

"I know." He gulped. "But what other choice did we have? We couldn't get any closer to the black hole without the entire ship being pulled in. And had my EVA suit failed while I was out there—"

"Do not even think about that! I have already seen a simulation of it, and I do not wish to have that simulation become a reality." T.J. shuddered at the memory. "The only reason Bova is still alive is because of sheer dumb luck and Radu's quick reflexes."

She was right, as she usually was. Seth wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on her shoulder as he took a shaky breath, declaring. "It's good to have you back."

After what T.J. deemed an appropriate length of time for a friendly hug, she tried to withdraw, but Seth refused to let go. She froze, uncertain, and slowly brought her hands to rest on his forearms. He responded by hiding his face in the crook of her neck.

Seth had managed to keep his cool in front of the kids. But he finally allowed himself to be vulnerable as the sense of alarm and emptiness he'd felt without her resurfaced. "We almost lost you today. You just disappeared overnight, and I didn't know how to bring you back."

Her voice was somehow soothing despite her own frazzled nerves as she hushed him, "I'm here. And I intend to be a thorn in your side for quite some time."

"Please don't ever worry me like that again."

"You needn't worry; that is my job. However I am finding it unsettling that my memories of being inside the ship are fuzzy at best."

Seth pulled back to study her, still bracing her shoulders, not wanting to let her go for a second. He was unable to keep the alarm from his voice when he asked, "What does that mean? Why can't you remember?"

"I am not exactly sure." T.J. grew timid as she noticed the grim look on his face and dared to ask, "Will you please tell me what happened?"

"You were fighting to remember who you were," he said simply, though he was struggling to maintain his composure.

She looked away, allowing him his dignity as she explained, "I do not remember the event properly. But oddly, I remember the feeling and lack thereof. I recall experiencing periodic surges of rather intense emotions that may or may not have been my own. But then I felt so lonely, so cold. And then I did not feel anything at all. Being granted a reprieve from my anxieties should have been a blessing. But looking back now, that is the most frightening part: the apathy. I didn't think it would be possible not to care about," she gulped, and her tear-filled eyes met his again, "anything."

"You care so much sometimes, you wind up on the verge of worrying yourself sick. But if you ever feel that way again—lost or unimportant or empty—please let me know, regardless of the circumstances. I'll remind you of who you are and how important you are as often as you need."

T.J. could feel herself blushing all the way down to her toes as she nodded.

"We're a team. I can't do this without you."

T.J. felt a pang in her chest. After being unable to feel anything for several hours, it seemed like every emotion was catching up with her: surprise, sadness, joy, gratitude, uncertainty, hope. While she was in the computer, the surges of emotion she'd experienced were intense, but they felt disconnected from her in an odd way she still wasn't able to define and seemingly unrelated to the stimuli around her. They were her feelings, but not. This time, the sudden floods of emotions were hers and directly caused by the distraught man before her.

She trembled as she took a step back to put some distance between them. "I am feeling rather," she took a breath and decided on, "exhausted after my ordeal."

"I should take you to the medlab. Get you checked out. Make sure you're okay," Seth decided.

"That is not necessary, but thank you."

"You said you couldn't remember—"

"Everything is simply a bit muddled at the moment," T.J. interrupted.

"Why do you keep avoiding the medlab? What aren't you telling me?"

She was quick to shake her head, and she looked away, ashamed. "I despise med scans. It was bad enough when Rosie scanned us after we'd transformed into Spung: I was practically holding my breath the entire time. It was a miracle I did not have a panic attack then and there."

She hadn't made eye contact with anyone until she was given a clean bill of health. But the experience had taken a toll on everyone; at the time, she allowed Seth to assume her skittish behavior was simply a result of the stress of the day.

"Why do the scans make you nervous?"

"Mostly, it is the anticipation. Assuming the worst."

He took a shot in the dark, "The way your mind works… Physiologically, is there any difference…? Are there any scans that would be able to detect…?"

She flinched and drew away from him, narrowing her eyes and scrutinizing him, assessing him. She was determining if he was a threat, Seth assumed, as his heart sank. If he pushed the issue he'd end up pushing her away, and she'd close herself off even more. He could tell she was retreating behind the brusque exterior she'd created for herself back at the Starcademy. It was her defense mechanism, and he wished she didn't feel the need to use it around him. He thought they'd moved past that.

"Would some rest give you peace of mind?" he wondered, taking a step back and giving her space.

She shook her head in the negative.

"What would?"

"What would, for you?" she countered.

What he wanted was to escort her to the medlab and make sure she was okay. He wanted to make sure she was real and whole. What he said was, "I think I just need you to forgive me."

"There is nothing to forgive." She took a step closer, resting her hands on his shoulders, and her reassuring smile only wavered slightly when she felt the EVA suit's ripped seam catch between her fingers. "Seth, you saved me."

He turned his head to look at the fraying material and frowned. "The kids saved you. I can't take credit for any of it."

"No, you…" She shook her head at him. "Why is it you take responsibility for the failures of others but refuse to accept praise for your own successes?"

He gulped before deflecting, "Why do you do the same?"

T.J. smiled sweetly. "It is part of my job: to teach what I know to others and help them learn and succeed so they can go on to do extraordinary things. Ultimately, my students' successes are their own; I simply guide them from the sidelines. But if I fail them, that is indeed a reflection on me. I have a responsibility to every student, and more of a responsibility to those who are struggling. While I did not have a say in the students you were assigned, I did feel confident that if anyone would be able to help them, it would be you. Even when you and I were not on the best of terms, there was no denying that your strengths complemented mine, so I had faith that you would succeed where I was failing. And I believe you are finally proving me right during our seven years of," T.J. took a breath, landing on, "practical application. It will continue to be a learning experience for us all."

He stared at her, bewildered. "But...you and the kids...your lives are in my hands," he whispered.

She smiled at him even though there were tears in her eyes. "No. 'I help you and you help me,' remember?" She paused when he reacted with a choked sob, and she used her thumb to gently wipe the tears from his cheeks. "I help you, and you help me. And we both care for the children."

He tripped over his thoughts, "But I can't risk… I can't do this if… I have to know that I can—"

"I trust you with my life." She blushed. "Then again, I might be a little biased."

Seth saw the opportunity for banter and took it, managing a crooked smile and deflecting with, "Biased, eh?"

T.J. rolled her eyes and playfully swatted his shoulder. "Stop. You are ruining the moment."

Seth regained his composure as he unzipped the EVA suit and shrugged it off, leaving him in his red shirt and grey slacks as the metallic layer pooled around his boots. "Oh, so there was a moment?"

"You are incorrigible," T.J. huffed in mock annoyance, catching his eye and offering a small smile, betraying her protest.

He grinned back as they made their way down the corridor toward the living quarters. Seth noticed T.J. seemed to move on autopilot with a distant look in her eyes and her lower lip jutting out in a thoughtful pout. "Penny for them?"

"What do you dream of?" she wondered, dazed.

"Huh?"

"It is something that Dram asked me. Something I have been considering for the past few weeks. And as I was not afforded imaginative thought in the computer..."

Seth frowned. "No daydreaming in the digital world, eh?"

"It would seem that way. And lacking those aspirations and feelings while being bombarded with facts and data made the struggle to return to myself all the more difficult."

"But you did manage to fight back. You remembered who you are and what's important to you, and you held on. Facts and figures aren't everything."

"I suppose I found something to which I could ascribe great significance. What some may consider a matter of opinion, I consider an empirical truth..." They had arrived at the doors to her quarters. She bit her lip as her cheeks flushed pink. Seth had to strain to hear her as she clarified, "Regardless of how bleak things may seem at times, there is always hope, and there is always something worth fighting for."

He gulped. "Hope, eh? I'm a big believer in that. So what's worth fighting for, in your mind, then? What was it that made your sense of hope strong enough to become truth?"

Her eyes were downcast as she smiled shyly. When she looked back up at Seth, she expected to find a cocky grin plastered on his face. Instead, she found him looking uncertain as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

T.J. had always harbored a crush on Seth, ever since her father began waxing poetic about his best student. T.J. had been young, then. And there had been so much of an age gap that the odds of them being in the same place at the same time, literally or figuratively, were slim to none.

Until she was proven wrong. On both counts.

When the Real Deal came strolling into her life (or rather moping and swearing under his breath as he scowled at her from across her desk) a big neon warning sign appeared in her head, accompanied by blaring klaxons.

NO. Don't even think about it.

Until she did.

T.J. confessed to herself that she was glad when Seth had initially been difficult to work with. She was actually relieved that he'd shattered the illusion she'd spent so long constructing. She'd wanted confirmation that she'd fallen for a standard that could never possibly be met.

Until the Real Deal exceeded nearly all of her high expectations.

Seth was not a man without flaws, faults, and insecurities, but he was a man who acknowledged his mistakes and allowed himself to care deeply about his work and the family with which the universe had surprised him. It left T.J. feeling a confusing jumble of emotions: anger at the stars for tempting her with something she should never have, frustration that there were fraternization rules in place at all, anxiety over whether or not those rules even mattered given their unique situation, sadness that any relationship of significance would never work, fear that she would lose him anyway even if he wasn't "hers" to lose. But more recently, surprisingly, she started feeling hope.

There was little certainty in the vacuum of space. But she was certain that Seth was the one who freed her from her cybernetic prison. He'd reminded her of who she was—who he thought she was—and it was a version of herself she didn't recognize. His T.J. was more intelligent, more confident, more compassionate...more like the person she wished she could be, and more like the person he was helping her become.

T.J.'s thoughts came to a grinding halt. When had she started considering herself his?

"What's one rule you wish you could break?"

T.J. gulped and allowed herself a cleansing breath to calm her rapidly beating heart. With her thoughts and emotions on overdrive, she leaned in and kissed his cheek before she could talk herself out of it. She pulled away and studied his face to gauge his reaction. The shock was expected. The tears were a surprise.

Seth took a stuttering breath. "Teej?"

She soon found tears welling in her own eyes. She wanted to say so many things, but all she allowed herself was a gentle, "Goodnight, Seth."

She knew if she offered an explanation, it would be the start of a long conversation. She knew if there was a conversation to be had, she'd invite him in so they could talk privately. She knew if she invited him in, there would be no turning back. What she didn't know was precisely how she felt about that.

She disappeared into her quarters, leaving both of them leaning against opposite sides of the closed doors.

T.J.'s hand hovered over the access crystal out of habit, but she pulled away, deciding against activating the lock. She spent the rest of the night lying on her bed, awake, sorting through her thoughts, growing hopeful, only admitting disappointment to herself in the wee hours of the morning when she realized the knock she was waiting for wouldn't come.