We only hear static over the comm. My heart is beating out of control. I need to know what happened. I need to know if there is a home to go back to. No, what I really need to know is if Jon is okay. As corny as it sounds: he is my home. I left Earth to be out here with him, didn't I? I call out to him, asking him to explain, but we can't interpret the static, especially with Hoshi gone.

It seems the longest wait of my life as T'Pol and I make our way down to the hatch. She keeps giving me these slight looks, careful to hover close. I can almost see the tension in her muscles through that skin-tight catsuit she always insists on wearing. She might deny it, but she's worried too. I wonder what the world is coming to if T'Pol is worried. So we stick close together, comforting each other with small hopeful glances.

She even dares to put her hand on my shoulder as we stand before the airlock, waiting the pronouncement of a fate we are no longer capable of changing. The squeeze she gives me is almost too tight for comfort and awkward, but I don't mind. Pain is a distraction from the hollow suspense of waiting. Then the light flashes green and I rush to open the door.

Malcolm is waiting on the other side. I let out a small breath of relief to know that my friend is all right, and -for once- arriving in one piece, but my eyes immediately wander, searching for Jon. If Jon were the first out of the airlock I would know immediately exactly what happened just from his posture,. But Jon's not here, so I look to Malcolm. The second he steps through that door and sees me standing there, he looks down, as though ashamed to meet my eyes. I thought we'd gotten over everything.

"It's done." His tone so defeated that my first instinct is to wrap him in a protective embrace. Could this mean Earth was destroyed? "Captain Archer destroyed the weapon." He says it almost like an insult but with all the seriousness and weight it deserves.

"Where is he? Is he okay?" I ask, trying to make it sound as casual as possible. But I can't shake this sinking feeling in my stomach - the one I get from looking at the sorrow in Malcolm and Hoshi's eyes on the eve of victory. But it's not real until I hear the words. I won't believe it. We've been through too much together. We've just gotten back to the good place again - where there's nothing but joy when we find each other, no thoughts of the mistakes we've made or the one's we're going to. Not that long ago, we were sitting back at the captain's table with T'Pol, laughing about our futures. I refuse to have that taken away from me - not now when I know we have a home to return to and live out the dream-life we deserve. I love him too much to believe it.

"The captain didn't make it, Trip." Malcolm says, finally fixing me with a gaze that says a thousand things. 'It's true,' and 'I'm sorry,' the most prominent among them.

But it's not true. It can't be. He promised . . . but why should I have believed his promises this time around? I quash the doubt with accusation, "What do you mean, he didn't make it?" I glare at Malcolm, forbidding him to say it - to make it true. If he does it will be all his fault.

But Malcolm doesn't lose his cool. He always says what needs to be said, even if I don't want to hear it. He meets my harsh glare without even showing me the blame I know he's already placing on himself, but allowing enough apology for me to know that he's sorry with his entire soul "The weapon exploded before he could transport to Degra's ship."

*How dare he!* The last voice of protest screams before the flood of dull ache that inevitably follows suspension of disbelief. It's not any easier the second time around. Hoshi leans in to give me a hug. She doesn't know the full extent of our relationship, but she knows how much he means to me at least, so she enfolds me in a weak embrace. I can't even feel her arms on mine, a fleeting pressure, nothing more.

This time my sorrow is too big - too immense to even process. Before I refused to cry, now I find that I can't. I refuse to believe that whatever gods there might be returned him to me only to take him away again. I didn't think the universe was that cruel.

I'm falling. Even the slight pressure has gone now. The world is sliding away from beneath my feet. I don't understand how to live anymore - how to cry. There aren't tears that can express this hurt. I'm flayed apart, confused and floating. Before I was anchored to Jon. It didn't matter that he was long detached from anything stable - at least we had each other to cling to, floating through this uncharted void. Now I'm all alone in the darkness of space, flailing and reaching for anything tangible.

The first thing to come is anger. He did it again! Didn't he learn anything last time? I thought he finally understood. He knows that if he goes, I go with him. But that didn't stop him. What was it this time? Fear of a future where he'll have to face the repercussions of his actions? And the guilt? He should have known that we could face those things together. Or maybe I hadn't gotten through to him at all. Maybe he was just biding his time, waiting to lay down his burden yet again and escape having to live out the rest of his days with me in a world where I might hurt him. Or perhaps it's that arrogant streak, the uniquely Jonathan Archer pride that insists on always playing the hero, the future be damned. But does it really matter? He's gone. And this time, he's not coming back.