"Dawn" By Alelou Rating: PG Disclaimer: All things Star Trek belongs to CBS/Paramount. Genre: Adventure, Missing Scenes, Angst, Trip/T'Pol Description: Missing scenes from Season Two. Author's Note: I was a little surprised to find myself still playing with the whole trust arc here. Sometimes what you think you care about most can really get you into trouble. Thanks as always to jT for beta. What a relief it was to take a breath and inhale Enterprise's familiar air after the choking heat of the planet and then the fetid stink of the alien shuttle.  Trip felt himself being lifted from one stretcher to another and opened his eyes to what seemed like a very dim corridor.  "Zho'Kaan?" he rasped.  His throat was painfully dry.  The Arkonians on the shuttle had tried to ply him with more of that god-awful liquid -- something like a combination of mud and petroleum -- but he'd managed to fend them off before they killed him with it. Malcolm's voice said, "You mean the Arkonian who was with you?  He's here." Phlox's voice said, "Which is fortunate, because I'm afraid he's in rather serious condition.  To sickbay quickly but gently, please."  There was a bustle nearby as the other stretcher moved off. "And how are you, Mr. Tucker?" Phlox's voice came, much closer this time, startling Trip a little.  He really should try to keep his eyes open.  "Okay," Trip said, though in truth he felt quite woozy. Phlox said, "Mmm, yes, mammalian thermoregulation comes in rather handy at times.  You are going to have rather extensive sunburn and you're a bit dehydrated, but you don't appear to be in any significant danger.  Follow my hand, Commander."  Trip squinted up as Phlox waved his hand in front of his face in a way that reminded him vaguely of the Three Stooges.  "Nyuck, nyuck, nyuck," he muttered, letting his eyes drift shut again. "He's irrational, doctor." T'Pol's voice.  "Commander?  Do you know where you are?"  Phlox again. "Enterprise," Tucker said, scowling.  They weren't going to let him just sleep, were they?  "I am too rational.  Most of the time." Phlox said, "He'll be fine, Sub-Commander.  You see, there really was no need to beam him up." "The temperature was rising to fatal levels very rapidly.  I still maintain that it was an illogical risk to take for no particular gain." Was that a hint of emotion in the sub-commander's voice?  "Were you worried about me, T'Pol?" Trip smiled beatifically up at her.  "Vulcans don't worry." "Do take him to sickbay," Phlox said.  "But his case is less urgent, so I'll leave you to it.  I must catch up with, um ..."  He leaned down.  "What did you say his name was again?" "Zho'Kaan," Trip said.  "Zho'Kaan.  Right."  Phlox scurried off. "Maybe the Sub-Commander wasn't worried," Malcolm said to him, "But she practically had a knock-down, drag-out fight with the captain over whether to beam you up despite what you said."  He nodded at somebody behind Trip and soon he was being lifted and carried.  He watched the corridor ceilings pass by, bemused by the new angle on the ship he knew so well. "That is a rather gross exaggeration of the nature of our discussion," T'Pol said, from the front of the stretcher.  Trip craned his neck back to see what he could.  He might as well appreciate this unusual view  of their science officer's marvelous backside.  He had no doubt Malcolm was taking it in. "You did say we should ignore Commander Tucker's wishes," Malcolm said, and winked down at Trip. "Only because it was clear he did not fully comprehend the certainty of his death if he stayed on that moon." Malcolm smirked down at him.  "Whereas the captain said we should trust you to make the right judgment."  Trip grimaced.  In truth, he'd realized the idiocy of his decision once the radio circuits had fused and he couldn't call for help.  Hanging out with Zho'Kaan for a few more fleeting moments of consciousness was not really worth the sheer discomfort of being baked to death. Then they were in sickbay, and they had lifted him onto a bio-bed.  Crewman Saad brought him glorious water to drink through a straw and began to attend to his various cuts and bruises, beginning with his split lip. "Where is the cap'n?" Trip asked, once that was closed up. "No doubt still negotiating with the Arkonians over the disposition of Zho'Kaan and our imminent departure from this system," T'Pol said.  "Are all of these injuries from the crash?" "Zho'Kaan and I had some ... misunderstandings ... before we began to work together." "You fought." "There was definitely some debate.  And it was kinda hard to communicate without a universal translator.  But I eventually got him to see reason." "How?" "Brute strength and a little bit of Southern charm."  He smiled at her.  "And then you were actually willing to give your life to stay with him when he couldn't be transported." "I wouldn't say I was willing to give my life.  I knew you'd get me in time." "You could not have known that." "I trusted you guys to beam me up if it got too bad.  I didn't know the captain was going to mess that up by trusting me even more." She stared down at him.  "Perhaps he knew that you particularly dislike not being trusted." Tucker closed his eyes and snorted a little.  "Don't tell me we're back there again." When he opened his eyes she was staring rather apprehensively at him. "What?" he said. "I did indeed argue against trusting you in this matter." If she were Human, he would have grabbed her hand.  As it was, all he could say was, "In this case, I think you were right, T'Pol.  Don't worry about it."  And he smiled reassuringly at her. She gave him that odd, almost shy little nod she sometimes used, so subtle that he sometimes wondered if she had really nodded or had just dipped her eyes down or something, and then turned away without bothering to tell him that Vulcans never worried.  "How is your Arkonian patient doing, doctor?" she asked. Trip closed his eyes and listened to Phlox and T'Pol discussing Zho'Kaan's improving condition. It was good to be home.  Next installment: Stigma.

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