Coming Home

CHAPTER THREE

Valdore stared hard at Eveiss, scarcely able to contain his anger. She'd failed. There were no words to describe the dishonor she'd brought to them both in doing so.

The normally collected young woman fidgeted slightly under Valdore's intense gaze. Her failure would ultimately mean dismissal, exile, or even death. 

"I was certain that he was dead, sir," she argued feebly. 

Valdore snorted. "You call 'no remains' dead? He's obviously alive and well, Eveiss. He ran from the scene intact and functioning. Our own Starfleet spy witnessed it!" His eyes narrowed. "You failed your mission. Were it up to me I'd suspend you from the Fire Cliffs of Lan-goosh!" Eveiss winced. "However, the decision is not mine. The Senate will determine your sentence."

Valdore motioned to the guard, who them grasped Eveiss's arm tightly. "You are restricted to your quarters until the Senate has had time to debate the matter. Dismissed."

The guard led her from the chambers and back to her quarters. It was then that she began formulating her escape.

T'Pol turned the corner of California Street, then striding down the sidewalk until she found the correct street address. T'Pol had relayed the tale of the incident to Marcie in hopes that the young woman knew the location of the restaurant. Marcie had been, if possible, even more excited about the encounter than T'Pol herself.

"You met him at Phoebe's? Oh, how romantic! Just like that cute coffee shop scene between Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan in You've Got Mail!" she'd gushed.

Despite the younger woman's romantic notions, the matter was strictly one of business for T'Pol. She had accepted purely on the basis of laying to rest her illogical feelings.

Those illogical feelings took over again as she stood outside of Aqua. She closed her eyes in an attempt to push the feelings aside. It wouldn't do for her allow her feelings to control the direction of the encounter. This could lead to false confirmation of her hopes and such a thing would ultimately prove humiliating.

T'Pol wrinkled her nose in annoyance. She still disliked how large a part of her life those accessed emotions had become. Yet, she had no choice but to accept them. They were with her for the remainder of her life.

She grasped the handle and pulled the door open only to be nearly knocked to the ground by a large crowd of people exiting the establishment. However, she managed to retain her balance. She then entered the restaurant, using the glass door to check her reflection and straighten her hair and blouse.

Another human habit you've picked up, her logical side chided. You've all but become one of them.

T'Pol immediately ceased the illogical behavior, her cheeks flushing slightly at her own foolish behavior. There was no reason to worry over her appearance. This lunch meeting was purely business.

She approached the hostess, an energetic young woman who smiled kindly.

"Table for one?" she asked.

T'Pol paused. "I am to meet someone. Charlie Kilby-"

The hostess's smile widened. "Oh, yes. Right this way, ma'am."

The hostess maneuvered her way toward a private area at the back of the establishment. T'Pol arched an eyebrow. Charlie was certainly going to great lengths for a simple lunch meeting.

'It might mean more than that to him,' her not-so-logical half chimed.

'But it does not to us,' her logical half retorted.

He stood immediately and moved toward the chair across from him, then pulled it out. She slid into the chair and nodded her appreciation. He pushed it back in slightly. His hand grazed her shoulder as he returned to his seat and she shivered. The touch was so familiar. 

She'd spent countless nights following her and Trip's first sexual encounter memorizing his touch. So gentle and so loving that it could never be anyone else. That touch haunted her dreams, sliding over her bare skin ever so slightly, and yet it ignited a red-hot fire inside of her nearly matching the sensations of the blood fever. 

Her gaze locked with his as he slid into the chair. He froze. Blood rushed in her ears. Deep blue eyes. Gorgeous deep blue eyes. Trip's gorgeous deep blue eyes. Her breath hitched.

"Can I get you something to drink, ma'am?"

T'Pol started and turned to find a waitress standing beside the table, smiling broadly.

"Coffee, black," T'Pol managed.

The waitress wrote the request down on the pad of paper and hurried off to the kitchen to fetch it.

Charlie chuckled. "You really like your coffee, don't you?"

T'Pol arched an eyebrow. "It has an agreeable flavor."

Charlie's eyebrows shot up. "Black? It isn't too strong for you?"

"No," she replied deadpan.

Again, he chuckled.

The waitress returned with T'Pol's coffee and then proceeded to take their orders. She smiled as she wrote both down.

"So I have one serving of fried catfish with a side of string beans for you, Mr. Kilby, and a full serving of spinach Caesar salad for the lady," the waitress confirmed. She then picked up their menus and turned to T'Pol. "Would you like the salad first or at the same time as Mr. Kilby's meal?"

"Simultaneously, please," T'Pol replied.

The waitress smiled and nodded, then striding toward the kitchen. T'Pol turned toward Charlie and arched an eyebrow. "I wasn't aware that fried catfish with string beans was an entrée at this establishment."

Charlie grinned. "It's not. But they'll make whatever I'm in the mood for."

T'Pol nodded. "Considering your loyal patronage, I'm sure."

Charlie arched an eyebrow and laughed. "Yeah, I suppose you could say that. Mostly, its Tanya's doing though. I loaned her some money to pay her rent when she was down on her luck and then helped her get a job here."

T'Pol tilted her head slightly. "That was generous of you."

Charlie frowned. "There isn't anything going on between us if that's what you're thinkin'. I was underprivileged once upon a time. I was just helpin' her get the leg up that I almost didn't get."

T'Pol couldn't help but stare at him. Again, he reminded her of Trip. There were so many similarities that she had almost succeeded in convincing herself that this man was Trip, hiding behind a different face to conceal himself from someone. But who? Was it possible someone had discovered who he really was?

Charlie shifted in his seat and his obvious discomfort snapped T'Pol from her thoughts. Her gaze dropped to her hands.

"I apologize," she said. "I-you remind me a great deal of someone I once knew."

Charlie nodded. "That's what you were saying in the coffee shop," he said. He laid a hand gently on top of hers, his gaze empathetic. "What happened to him?"

T'Pol's gaze met his and she arched an eyebrow. "How are you so certain I speak of a man?"

Charlie smiled wanly. "Coffee shop." Her cheeks flushed green and she nodded in acknowledgement. "So what happened to him? Was he a soldier?"

T'Pol paused. "Yes, he was. He was called away on a classified mission over a year ago. I have not heard from him since our last night together."

Charlie nodded. "I was a soldier once, too. Special Forces."

T'Pol's gaze locked with his. "Perhaps you served with him."

"What's his name?" Charlie asked.

"Charles," she whispered.

Charlie chuckled. "Yeah, I knew a couple guys who went by Charles."

T'Pol paused. "His birthplace is Panama City, Florida."

Charlie's brow furrowed in contemplation. "Hmm. I don't think I served with him personally."

I'm sorry, T'Pol. He wanted so much to tell her who he really was. It was breaking his heart to watch the hope drain from her eyes.

A tense silence floated in and surrounded them like a thick fog. The silence was broken only when the waitress approached with their meals. She sat the plates down in front of them.

"If you need anything else, let me know," she said with a smile before turning to head back to the kitchen.

Charlie dug into his meal enthusiastically, cutting his fried catfish into bite-sized pieces before dipping one of those pieces into the tartar sauce, striving for just the right amount of it on each piece. She watched his methodical eating curiously, her plate untouched. She wondered if this wasn't a consequence of his military service. She recalled developing a similar eating pattern after she'd left the Security Ministry and again following the difficulties in the Expanse. 

Trip had enjoyed teasing her about her need for order. If he had only known why she needed such control, he probably would not have done so. Watching this man strive to control some aspect of his life, she surmised that whatever he'd gone through during his service equaled or exceeded the stress of her experiences in the Expanse.

"Where did you serve?" she asked.

Charlie's gaze locked with hers and she could see the loss and pain in his eyes. Her breath caught at the volume of emotion he portrayed simply with his gaze. She thought back to when she'd felt anything similar and the first memory that came to mind was Trip's "death". 

"I served with the fleet that was assigned to assault Romulus itself," he replied at last, his voice soft and gravelly. 

She laid her hand on top of his in gesture of support and comfort, a gesture that had often soothed Trip in such moments. "We do not need to discuss it if you do not wish to," she whispered.

Charlie shook his head. "It's all right, darlin'. It's not so difficult now," he countered. He paused. "A lot of good men were lost that day. I was an inside man, altered to look like one of them. I was supposed to give our side the codes to get inside; but something went wrong. The Romulans changed the facility codes just after I gave them to the fleet." His gaze grew misty at the memory. "The Romulans killed every last one of them. There were bodies everywhere. But I had to pretend I was pleased they'd been cut down." He swallowed roughly. "It was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do."

T'Pol brought her other hand up to cup his cheek. Another Human gesture of comfort that she'd found soothed the hurts Trip had experienced. He smiled wanly and grasped her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm.

"You should eat your lunch, T'Pol," Charlie said. "Before it gets cold."

T'Pol's gaze dropped to her salad and she arched an eyebrow. At last realizing that that was his way of closing the subject, she nodded and pulled her hands away, then reached for a fork. She speared several lettuce pieces and guided the fork to her lips.

The two ate in silence, occasionally sneaking glances at one another only to turn away when the other noticed their gaze. This back and forth continued until each had finished their meal.

She dabbed her napkin to her lips as the waitress, Tanya, arrived with a PADD containing the bill. 

Charlie smiled and handed her his credit chip. She then inserted it into the slot at the bottom of the PADD and entered a series of commands. She then held the PADD out for him so that he could sign it.

Tanya smiled and nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Kilby, and have a good day." She then returned to the kitchen.

"Ready?" Charlie asked.

T'Pol nodded and stood, laying her napkin beside her empty plate.

Charlie stood as well and the two walked toward the exit. He laid a hand gently at the small of her back and T'Pol arched an eyebrow, but made no move away from his touch. 

The young hostess smiled. "Have an excellent day, Mr. Kilby."

Charlie grinned. "You, too, Alice."

Charlie chuckled, then opened one of the glass doors for T'Pol, allowing her to step through first. Horns from the street blared as she stepped from the establishment. She made to continue walking, but Charlie gripped her arm gently. She turned toward him.

"I want to see you again," he said.

She nodded. "I wish to be in your company again as well."

"Coffee?" he suggested.

She nodded. "Phoebe's?"

He grinned. "Sounds good. After work? 7?"

"I will be there," she replied.

Their gazes locked and a curious sensation rushed through her, causing her to shiver. They leaned toward one another until their lips were mere millimeters apart. He intended to kiss her. 

She shouldn't allow him such a liberty, her logical mind chastised. He was a perfect stranger to her. 

No, her heart whispered, he's Trip. 

Before her logical mind could protest again, his lips covered hers in a timid kiss. He pulled away slightly before returning for a fuller kiss. It was gentle, and yet his lips moved against hers as though he was a man dying of thirst and she was the oasis that would quench it.

When at last he pulled away, both were breathing heavily. The tip of his tongue snuck out to moisten his lips and she resisted the urge to pull his head down to hers.

"See ya at 7?" he said hoarsely.

She simply nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She watched him dart across the lanes of traffic and turn a corner. She then made her way back toward Starfleet Headquarters.