But when I get to the doorway, there's no one in sight
Who: McCoy and T'Pol, openish
Where: The pub
What: Sometimes Vulcans really, really, really hope a bar stocks hot chocolate.
When: After the flood; after Trip's gone and McCoy's back to normal.
Warnings: Oh Christ the angst.
It was a cruel thing, she thought, to be here under the impression that he would be brought back only to see that goal attained and ripped away in a matter of days. Briefly - too briefly - it had felt as if the last six years had never happened. Elizabeth had not died, they had not decided to remain working colleagues, he had not died so pointlessly.
It was the realization that their relationship had been made largely of heated arguments and the acknowledgments that they worked well together that made her leave her room. The last time she had been to the pub had been at Captain Kirk's behest, and she had been pulled into a book. Now, she intended to go alone, hoping the change of scenery would be less - emotional. He had been in her bed again, for the first time in seven years, and now that he was not, she found herself inclined to forget the encounter entirely.
And now she sat in front of the bar in the pub, eying the selection with her lips pressed tight together. Her high metabolic rate processed alcohol too quickly for it to have an effect on her. It was tempting to try, anyway, wage a war against her body until it gave in. Her body or her memory, either was acceptable.
In the end, she sat with a glass of water held tightly in both hands, head bowed. He'd said they would stay in touch.
Where: The pub
What: Sometimes Vulcans really, really, really hope a bar stocks hot chocolate.
When: After the flood; after Trip's gone and McCoy's back to normal.
Warnings: Oh Christ the angst.
It was a cruel thing, she thought, to be here under the impression that he would be brought back only to see that goal attained and ripped away in a matter of days. Briefly - too briefly - it had felt as if the last six years had never happened. Elizabeth had not died, they had not decided to remain working colleagues, he had not died so pointlessly.
It was the realization that their relationship had been made largely of heated arguments and the acknowledgments that they worked well together that made her leave her room. The last time she had been to the pub had been at Captain Kirk's behest, and she had been pulled into a book. Now, she intended to go alone, hoping the change of scenery would be less - emotional. He had been in her bed again, for the first time in seven years, and now that he was not, she found herself inclined to forget the encounter entirely.
And now she sat in front of the bar in the pub, eying the selection with her lips pressed tight together. Her high metabolic rate processed alcohol too quickly for it to have an effect on her. It was tempting to try, anyway, wage a war against her body until it gave in. Her body or her memory, either was acceptable.
In the end, she sat with a glass of water held tightly in both hands, head bowed. He'd said they would stay in touch.