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SUMMARY: The story of Archer's redemption -- how he comes to terms with his actions in the Expanse and how this affects his relationship with T'Pol. It is set in the timeframe of the Season 4 episode Home, but from that point onwards diverts from canon. In this story the T/T romantic relationship of season 3 and T'Pol's trellium addiction didn't happen. If you don't like stories that don't follow canon, you probably shouldn't read this.

Redemption

Chapter 1

Night had fallen upon the city. The cloudless sky was filled with millions of stars, and a full moon lent its light to the Earth below.

For San Francisco however, natural illumination had never been enough for its residents' needs. Nightfall did not mean things ground to a halt. The streets and buildings were aglow with electric lights. Shuttlepods filled the skies, while ground transportation clogged the streets. It was rush hour and everyone was hurrying to return home to loved ones.

Loved ones: husbands, wives, children, mothers, fathers, sisters and brothers — none of which he possessed. He stared out the window, across the bay, studying the flow of the traffic on the Golden Gate.

The bridge had withheld the test of time. Built back in the 1930s, it was now over 220 years old, and as majestic as ever. It stood for something — not only excellence in engineering and design, but it was often the symbol most associated with what he regarded as his home town.

One of his earliest memories was of his father and him driving across it for the first time, a few days after moving from New York to the west coast. He must have been around five years old at the time. After paying the toll at the booth, they started their journey across. He'd studied the shape of the bridge as they drove across in detail.

"Why's it called the Golden Gate, Dad? It's red."

His father had chuckled at his son's question. "It's not named for its color." The young boy's expression conveyed puzzlement. His father clarified, " The term Golden Gate refers to the Golden Gate Strait which is the entrance to the San Francisco Bay from the Pacific Ocean."

The explanation had sufficed and the young boy had continued to gaze out the window. Within a few minutes they'd travelled across the bridge's 1.7 mile length, reaching the other side.

A few miles further and they reached Muir Woods, where the father and his son spent the afternoon, learning about the beautiful sequoia trees.

A tear welled up in the man's eye at the memory. "I miss you, Dad," he whispered into the empty conference room, knowing no one would hear him. He sighed, then blinked and felt ashamed as a lone tear travelled down his cheek. He quickly brushed it away. It wouldn't look good if the man who was now hailed a hero for saving earth was seen as being emotional or weak. He had an image to maintain.

He sighed again…that image brought the bile up from his stomach — he despised it. Only this morning as he'd attempted to enter Starfleet through the main gate he'd been hounded by reporters asking for exclusives. He'd tried to be polite and explain that he had an important meeting to get to, but the paparazzi just wouldn't take no for an answer. It had ended in a bit of a scuffle, with Starfleet security having to come to his rescue and usher him away to safety.

Then the night before, he'd been trying to have a quiet dinner alone and found himself being asked for his autograph at least two dozen times. Other requests had included taking photographs with people — all showering him with praise and admiration. One young woman had even propositioned him, telling him she was his biggest fan and wanted to show her appreciation for him saving the planet. From the smell on her breath it was obvious she was inebriated. Of course he'd refused her come on.

Now he wondered why. He'd practically been a monk for 4 years, why not break the celibate spell? He could certainly benefit from having his tensions eased. But that just wasn't his modus operandii. He wasn't a love 'em and leave 'em type of guy and he'd never take advantage of a woman in a less than sober state.

He stared out again onto the bridge and the bay. In the distance he could see a cruise ship easing out of the bay into the open ocean, probably en-route for the Hawaiian islands. On board probably a boatload of happy people — honeymooners excited at the prospect of starting their married lives together, or couples celebrating a silver or golden wedding anniversary.

He pondered what that must be like — to have that special someone in your life who compliments and completes you in every way. Someone to come home to at the end of the day and make your evening pleasant and soothing, no matter what kind of a day you'd had.

He'd never felt such utter and complete loneliness as he did at this very minute. Here he was the hero who'd saved Earth and he had nowhere to go, and no one to turn to. Jonathan Archer, Captain of the Enterprise, was completely alone.

He wished he could be back in the Expanse — numb to everything and just centered on one goal: his mission. Now that Enterprise was in spacedock receiving repairs, he'd have so much time on his hands. Too much time on his hands was not a good thing, it meant he'd have time to think. That was one thing he didn't want to do, to mull over the events of the last few months and all the heinous acts he'd committed.

God, I hate myself.

He didn't know for how long he could continue to dodge the reporters. They were probably staking out his apartment at this very minute. But if he heard one more hero comment or how he'd saved the planet, he was sure he'd erupt and then they'd really have a headline.

Forrest had ordered him to take some time off and clear his head. But he hadn't gone anywhere. After the grilling he'd received from Soval he'd felt so keyed up and annoyed he'd paced the gardens around Starfleet for over an hour. How dare that son of a bitch accuse him of not doing everything within his power to help those on the Seleya!

If only T'Pol had been there…

She might have spoke up for him, and explained. She was loyal and she knew him. But not being an official member of Starfleet yet, and still shunned by the High Command she hadn't been invited to the de-briefing. In fact he wasn't exactly sure where she was at the moment. Before leaving Enterprise she'd mentioned something about visiting her mother on Vulcan, but he hadn't caught when she was leaving.

He guessed she was with Trip. He knew the chief engineer had scurried off to the Cayman Islands as soon as the welcome home proceedings had ended. He probably took the Enterprise's science officer with him.

Archer sighed again. He wished he could just enter the Command Center right now and immerse himself in the Xindi database so he wouldn't have to think. Thinking was dangerous. He didn't want to think about Trip and T'Pol, or his feelings.

But it seemed he was losing the battle and his mind kept regurgitating all the thoughts he'd managed to safely bury while in the Expanse.

He was plagued by his feelings: sadness, loneliness, jealousy and anger. But the predominant one that tormented him was guilt. Not guilt for what had happened on the Seleya — no Soval was way out of line on that one, he'd done all he could for the Vulcans on that ship.

His guilt encompassed stranding the Illyrian ship and stealing its warp coil, creating a clone, and torturing a prisoner. How could anyone call him a hero after these acts he'd committed? He'd noted them all in detail in his reports but no one had blinked, and just accepted that these actions had been necessary. He'd expected a least a reprimand for some of this. In fact he wanted one, it might have helped him deal with his guilt.

"I'm sorry, Dad," he whispered with a crack in his voice as he tried to contain his volatile emotions. In a way he was glad Henry wasn't around to witness such acts.

He was roused from his thoughts when he heard footsteps down the corridor. The door to the conference room was open, but since it was unlit, he hoped it wouldn't tempt anyone to investigate if it had any occupants. It seemed someone was curious, as he saw a shadowy figure at the door.

"Captain? Is that you?"

T'Pol looked into the dark room trying to ascertain if the silhouette of a man she spied standing at the window was indeed the man she sought. She hoped it was, she'd spent the good part of two hours looking for him. She'd gone to his apartment first, and instead of finding him there had encountered news hungry reporters who were only too happy to fire a thousand questions at her. She'd managed to elude them somehow and make her way back to Starfleet HQ.

She'd heard about this afternoon's briefing and knew it had not gone well. She'd also run into Admiral Forrest and was aware that the captain had been ordered to take time off and clear his head.

"T'Pol? What are you doing here?"

"Do you mind if I turn on the lights?" she asked, after hearing his voice.

"Yes."

Hmm…that was strange. Was he afraid she might see something he wished to hide? Respecting his wishes she walked across the dark room; it wasn't a problem without the lights as Vulcans had excellent night vision. As she reached the large Oriel window she could make out his countenance. He wouldn't look at her, but continued to study the traffic outside the window. There was pain etched into his expression —she'd known him long enough to pick up on this. She hoped what she had come to say might alleviate some of this.

"You didn't answer my question." He sounded displeased at her presence.

"I came to see you."

"Why?"

"I heard about what happened with Soval."

"I'm fine."

He was anything but fine. His jaw was clenched; every muscle in his body was tightly coiled up. In his eyes she saw anger and also…she looked again to make sure she was certain. Yes…sadness, a deep all-engulfing sadness.

"I think you should go. I wish to be alone."

"I think being alone is the last thing you wish," she replied.

"How the hell would you know what I want and don't want?" His voice was rather elevated and she hoped the area was deserted, so no one would hear him.

"Captain, please…perhaps we could go somewhere more private…and talk." It was unlike him to raise his voice to her, so she gathered his mood was dire.

"Talk? I don't want to talk, T'Pol. And I sure don't need to talk. I just want to be alone."

He was being stubborn and closing her out, just like he'd done since entering the Expanse. None of her usual tactics would work. He'd built up this wall around himself that was almost impenetrable. But somewhere there had to be a chink in his armour — a weakness that she could target and then somehow get through to him.

"Jonathan…" She spoke his name softly, almost like a lover. She'd never used his first name before and hoped this might garner his attention.

He didn't flinch and continued to study the goings on happening outside the window. This wasn't the reaction she'd expected. She moved an inch closer to him, so that their bodies were almost touching and reaching down she placed her hand gently in his. She'd half expected him to pull away, but he didn't.

"Jonathan, look at me please."

He turned, their hands still entwined, and his expression was one of utter confusion.

"I care about you too much to just let you be alone and wallow in your own misery. It doesn't have to be this way." Gaining courage from the fact that he still hadn't pulled away from their joined fingers, she caressed his cheek with her hand.

He was silent, but she could feel him watching her intently. His eyes were now unreadable and she couldn't gauge any reaction from him. Deciding to take the next step, she placed a tender kiss on his lips.

Jonathan at first was startled but quickly surrendered to the feeling of her lips on his. Within moments, he was kissing her back, hungrily, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist, his body pressed firmly against hers.

Suddenly he stopped, pushing her away from him.

"What's wrong?" she asked, confused.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Jonathan, I thought­—"

"Are you trying to get me drummed out of Starfleet? Is that what you want?"

"No!"

"What kind of game is this to you, T'Pol? One week Tucker, the next week me? Is that it? Do you report back to your Vulcan superiors what it's like to bed a human? Do you want to compare notes?"

"If you calm down and let me explain—"

"I don't want to hear your sordid explanations. I'm tired and I'm not going to play your games."

"But…"

She didn't get to finish as he hurriedly exited the room. Her first instinct was to follow him but she acknowledged it would be of no use and she didn't wish to create a scene at Starfleet Headquarters. She pulled up a chair, sitting at the conference table and buried her face in her hands. So much for telling him how she really felt! This had gone just splendidly.

TBC