"The Thorn and the Rose" By Dinah Rating: PG-13 Disclaimer: It all belongs to Paramount. No infringement intended. Genre: Action/Adventure, drama, romance Summary: What happens to Trip and T’Pol’s relationship after the events of “Terra Prime.” A/N: Many thanks to Distracted for her beta-ing skills. CHAPTER 12: ARCHER Two hours are a long time to pass in total silence, Jonathan Archer thought as he piloted Shuttlepod Two down to the planet's surface. He could have put the ship on autopilot, but what would be the point? Trip hadn't uttered a single word since he entered the shuttlepod. He'd just staked out a spot on one of the benches, pulled a padd from his pocket, and begun reviewing maintenance reports. Archer had expected him to be sullen and hostile, but that didn't appear to be the case. Trip was every inch a man who seemed to be resigned to his fate. That didn't mean, however, that down-deep he wasn't hurt and angry. Archer had been stunned when T'Pol told him, moments before they left, that Trip felt that this away mission was a form of punishment. Archer had just assumed that Trip would see this little jaunt the same way he did, as a chance to get away from the day-to-day grind of life on board Enterprise and the strain of command. The captain snuck a peek over his shoulder. Deep in concentration, Trip seemed to be totally oblivious to his surroundings. Well, Archer thought, what did I expect? He knew this wasn't going to be easy. He just wished that he had a plan. Life was always better when you had a plan. Eyes front once again, Jon could see the planet clearly. It was little more than a drab, misshapen lump in space. There was nothing stimulating or inviting about it. He could only hope that the atmosphere hid its charms. "We'll be landing in about ten minutes, Trip," Archer said as he swiveled around to face the engineer. "Why don't you make sure our gear is stowed away?" "Aye, sir," Tucker said dutifully. He put aside his padd and started to rise. When he caught sight of the captain looking his way, he tried to smile, but it was half-hearted at best. Archer watched as Trip's eyes slid toward the front viewport. "Is that where we're headed?" Trip asked incredulously. "Yep," Archer replied with more enthusiasm than he felt. "Looks interesting, doesn't it?" Shaking his head, Trip turned back to check on the gear. "It's gonna be a long five days," he muttered under his breath. A smile played across Archer's lips as he faced front again. That sounded more like his friend. Since he was more serious and reserved by nature, Archer had always enjoyed Trip's irreverent sense of humor. He could hear the commander moving around behind him. "When you get finished, I can use some help," Archer called out. The next thing he heard was a thud followed by a muttered oath. Moments later Trip appeared beside him. "We're as ready to go as we'll ever be," Tucker said as he leaned forward slightly. "Where are we gonna set down? All I see is choppy grey water, and I didn't bring my water wings." "Why don't you tell me?" Archer said and smiled. "Pull up a chair." Tucker sat down in the co-pilot's seat and began to scan the surface. "Land ho," he mumbled. His fingers moved rapidly as he made adjustments to the scanner. "I'm not seeing much that's flat." "What's our best bet?" Tucker knitted his brow as he concentrated on the screen before him. "I'd say…twelve…no make that ten degrees to port." He looked over at the captain. "You should see a landing site in about a minute and a half." Archer nodded. The shuttlepod left the vast seas behind and passed over several mountain peaks before sweeping down closer to the surface. As they descended they entered a layer of dense fog. "Talk to me, Trip." "Come starboard two degrees," Tucker said. "Slow it down. We're close. Just a few more seconds. There." Tucker pointed to a small clearing barely visible through the heavy mist. "Good man," the captain muttered as he turned his full attention to landing the craft. The clearing was small, but, even with his vision obscured, Archer set the shuttlepod down with ease. As the ship powered down, he sat transfixed by the sight before him. "Are you sure about this?" Trip asked warily as he stared out at the soggy terrain which was barely visible through the thick yellowish fog. Archer checked the external sensors. "T'Pol was right about the atmosphere. It may not look pretty, but we should have enough oxygen to breathe. We'll be able to adapt to the change in gravity. We just have to take things slowly at first." Trip checked the meteorological data. "It's going to be real cozy out there -- 38 degrees C. And the humidity stands at 92%." He cast an aggrieved look at the captain. "Maybe this place looks better from a different angle." Trip got up, headed over to the hatch and opened it. "Nope," he muttered dejectedly as hot, fetid air filled the shuttlepod. "If anything, it's worse." When Archer moved over to stand beside him, Trip observed unhappily, "We can't see more than six feet in front of us. Anything could be out there." "T'Pol said there were no lifeforms." "I hope she's right," Trip mumbled. "I guess if I had a choice, I wouldn't want to live here either. The smell alone would keep me away." "At least the Tellarites were wrong about the natural resources." Tucker looked at him questioningly. "They ought to be able to find a number of uses for sulfur." "Hmph," Tucker snorted. "Ambassador Gral ought to feel right at home." Archer smiled and shook his head. "I don't even think the Ambassador deserves this." He slapped Tucker soundly on the back. He was surprised that Trip's shirt was already damp to the touch. "Well, I guess we better set up camp." He turned and headed toward the back of the shuttlepod. "Out there?" Tucker sounded shocked. "You've got to be kiddin' me." "The sooner we set up camp, the sooner we can start to explore." "You try explorin' in this soup, and you're probably gonna break a leg," Trip grumbled. "Don't expect me to save your sorry ass if you do." Archer tossed a duffle bag in the commander's direction. Trip caught it awkwardly before it hit the deck. "After you, Mr. Tucker," Archer said as he came up behind the engineer. He had a large bag tossed over his right shoulder and held another smaller case in his left hand. "You start setting up the tent. I'll start a fire." "If you say so." Trip turned and stuck his head out of the hatch. He looked around and seeing nothing threatening stepped gingerly out of the shuttlepod. He'd barely reached the ground when a large bag landed at his feet. "Here," Archer said as he handed the small case to the commander, "I'll get the rest of the gear. Get started on the tent." The captain looked up at the sky. "I want to be sure the camp is set up before it gets dark." "Aye, sir," Tucker said in a dejected tone of voice. "I'll get right on it." He dropped the duffle bag he was holding and knelt to open it. "Nothin' like a camp-out," he muttered under his breath. "Hope Chef packed the hotdogs and the marshmallows." He started to assemble the tent as Archer dropped the gear he was carrying and began to search for some rocks. Both men worked in silence. After years spent together, they were able to communicate intuitively with a glance or a simple motion of a hand. Unfortunately, with the poor quality of the air and stronger pull of gravity, they discovered that they tired easily, necessitating frequent breaks. By the time they finally finished setting up camp, it was beginning to grow dark. "I'm hungry," Archer said as he pulled the hem of his shirt up to wipe the sweat off his face. "How about you?" "Yeah, I guess I'm kinda hungry. What's for dinner?" Archer leaned over, picked up a container, and held it out for the commander's inspection as though the crown jewels rested inside. "I couldn't convince Chef that hotdogs were an acceptable meal for two hearty explorers, but he sent along some pulled pork barbecue and potato salad. He even managed to produce a couple of ears of corn from the stasis unit. How's that for a picnic?" In spite of himself, Tucker grinned. "Sounds pretty damn good. I don't suppose you remembered to bring the beer?" "The beer's on ice in the shuttlepod. You go get a couple of bottles, and I'll start heating things up. Oh, and grab a lantern while you're in there." Archer put down the container, picked up his phase pistol and fired. "Heated rocks may not make a great campfire, but I think we can make do," he said as the rocks began to glow. "Be right back," Tucker hollered as he disappeared into the shuttlepod. After a few minutes, he emerged with the glowing lantern in one hand and two bottles in the other. He set the lantern down on the ground near the captain. "It smells a whole lot better out here now," he said eagerly. "When I smell barbecue cookin', it sure brings back a lot of happy memories. My mama makes the best…" Suddenly Trip sobered and dropped his head dejectedly. "Sit down, Trip," Archer said. He reached up and took one of the bottles out of the commander's hand. Tucker slumped down next to the captain. He bowed his head and slowly rubbed his right temple. "I probably should have told you about this weeks ago," Archer said quietly. "I spoke with Admiral Gardner. He told me that there is no evidence that your parents were in any way actively associated with Terra Prime." "They were members," Tucker said in a strained voice. "Yes," the captain answered carefully. "But once they understood Paxton's motives and the aims of his organization, they severed all connections with Terra Prime. That half-assed report should never have been sent to Enterprise. It was inaccurate and misleading. Just forget about it." Trip shook his head. "We all make mistakes, Trip, even parents." Archer's heart broke when he saw the need in Trip's face. It was obvious that he desperately wanted to believe what Jon was telling him, but he just couldn't bring himself to let go of his anger. "When we get back to Enterprise, why don't you contact them?" "I can't…" "Sure you can," Jon said soothingly. "At least give them a chance to explain. They deserve that much, don't you think?" "I guess…I don't know," Trip mumbled. "Let me think about it." "That's fair," Archer said. "You've got four more days to do nothing but think." He opened his bottle of beer and took a drink. "I don't know about you, Commander, but I'm hungry. What do you say we eat?" Tucker nodded and gave Archer a feeble smile. As Tucker reached for his plate, Archer raised his bottle. "To better days ahead." Tucker opened his bottle and clinked it against the captain's. "Better days," he murmured and drank deeply. Dinner passed in companionable silence. Archer was surprised that, even with disconcerted thoughts of his parents spinning through his head, Tucker had no trouble cleaning his plate. With the meal done and the dishes cleaned and stowed away, Archer had to admit that he was ready to call it a night. Unfortunately, he could tell that his friend was still wide awake. The hot stifling air and their damp clothes weren't going to make things any easier for Trip. "Are you going to have trouble sleeping tonight? Phlox packed some sedatives, if you think you're going to need some help." Tucker poked fitfully at the heated stones with a long, narrow rock fragment. "Nah," he mumbled. "I'm pretty tired tonight. Besides, I know Phlox doesn't want me to get too dependent on sedatives." Archer found that unsettling. "I didn't know you were still taking sedatives. I thought you were using neuropressure to help you sleep." Trip shifted nervously and looked off into the fog. "It's hardly a secret, Trip," Archer said with a chuckle. "The whole ship knows that you and T'Pol have had neuropressure sessions on and off over the last couple of years." When his friend remained reticent, Archer forged onward. "So, neuropressure – what's it like exactly? Like a massage?" "Kinda," Trip muttered. "Clothes come off?" Archer said teasingly. Trip's head whipped around. "It's not what you're thinkin'," he snapped. "T'Pol was just helpin' me sleep. That's all!" Archer tried to hide his smile. Since the trial, it was common knowledge that Trip and T'Pol had been involved in a romantic relationship. The smile began to fade when he thought about the strain that the death of their child had put on that relationship. Jon knew he shouldn't tease his friend, but he was willing to do just about anything to break the hold that the depression had on Trip. "Maybe I should try neuropressure some time," he said jokingly. "I could use a little relaxation every now and then." Trip froze. He seemed to be searching desperately for something to say. Finally, he mumbled, "Yeah. Sure. Neuropressure's great. T'Pol's great…to help me." Trip swallowed and tried again. "She's great to help me…to take her time…," his words trailed off to a whisper. "I'm sure she'd help you, too." This was not the reaction Archer had expected. Too late, he realized that this was not a subject to be taken lightly. Evidently neuropressure had become an important part of their relationship. The awkward silence convinced him that it was time for a change of topic. Just as he was about to speak Trip said wistfully, "Do you ever think about starting a family?" He looked at Archer searchingly. "You know, a wife, 2.3 kids, a house you can't afford, a dog." He shifted restlessly. "I guess you've already got the dog, but…well…you know what I mean." Now that Trip was finally opening up, Jon knew that he needed to keep things going, even if it wasn't exactly a topic he felt comfortable talking about just now. "I see what other people have, and it looks pretty good. But I guess I'm just not very good husband material." Jon looked up to see his friend staring at him intently. "Besides Enterprise is a pretty demanding mistress," he continued with a touch of humor in his voice. "She's too much competition for most women." "Is there someone special?" Trip asked quietly. "Someone you'd give it all up for?" Archer took a deep breath and raised his head to gaze at the fog-shrouded sky. He thought about his life, about his father's dream of space travel, about his own needs as a man and about a lovely woman who had captured his heart. As he turned back to Trip, he said, "Yeah…yeah there is," he paused then added ruefully, "but she's already spoken for." Tucker sat motionless. The lantern cast a golden glow over his features, but it was the shadows that dominated his face. The ebullience that had once sparkled in his eyes had been replaced by pain and desolation. Archer grasped his friend's shoulder and squeezed gently. "Trip, there's something I need to tell you." When the engineer didn't respond he continued. "When we were in the Expanse, I pulled away from everyone, especially you, and I want to say that I'm sorry." Trip straightened, twisting his body slightly to loosen Archer's grip. "Please don't do this, Cap'n. You were just doin' what had to be done." He started to rise. "I guess maybe getting some sleep is a good idea." "No you don't." Archer tightened his grip. "I need to say this and you need to listen, so just sit back down. That's an order." Tucker quit struggling and settled back down, but it was obvious that he wasn't happy about where the conversation was headed. "There haven't been many people in my life who have really meant a lot to me," Archer began, "just my Mom, my Dad, the Ericksons…and you, Trip." He paused for a moment to let his words sink in. "The thought of losing any member of my crew was difficult, but the thought of losing you was almost more than I could bear. I had to pull away from you in order to do my job. Somehow, after it was all over, we just never reconnected. That was mainly my fault, too." Trip shook his head vigorously. "That's not true. You just did what you had to do. I've always known you were my friend. Always!" "More than just friends, Trip. You're the little brother I never had." Tucker's body stiffened noticeably. "The days we've spent together have been some of the happiest of my life. That's why it's so important for you to let us…to let me help you to feel more like your old self." "I'm sorry, Cap'n," the young engineer said, his voice strained. "You have nothing to be sorry for. Life's dealt you a pretty difficult hand lately, but you can't let things get you down. Go see Phlox when we get back to Enterprise. Let him help you." Archer squeezed Trip's shoulder again to emphasize his point. "Will you do that for me?" Trip's eyes remained downcast, but he managed to nod his head. "Good." Archer felt a surge of relief. "There's just one more thing I'd like you to do for me. For the next few days, while we're here on this planet, I'd appreciate it if you'd call me Jon." That was too much for Trip. His hands came up to cover his eyes and he began to sob quietly. Archer gently squeezed his shoulder and whispered soothingly, "It's okay, Trip. Just let it out. Things will get better. You'll see." Finally, as the tears began to subside, Tucker stuck out his hand. Archer couldn't help but smile as he laid a couple of tissues across his chief engineer's palm then listened as he vigorously blew his nose. "Feel better." "Yeah, I guess so," Trip sniffed. "Sorry to be such a pain in the ass." "No problem. Do you think you can get some sleep now?" "I'll try." The commander rose slowly. "Well, good night. And thanks." As Trip headed for the tent and his sleeping bag, Archer called after him, "Sleep well." Jon sat quietly, wrapped in his thoughts of the happy, energetic friend who'd filled his life with so much joy. He wanted that man back again. As he stared off into the distance, he felt a breeze begin to stir. He reveled in the slight coolness he felt when it hit his sweat-soaked shirt. He almost called Trip to come back out and enjoy it with him, but the engineer needed to rest. Slowly, the fog began to move and dance as the breeze picked up. It was almost like watching a living being. Archer yawned and stretched. Breeze or no breeze, he was tired and his sleeping bag was calling to him. He rose and headed for the tent. They'd made a good start tonight. Trip had always been there for him. Now it was his turn to be strong and help Trip find his way back. CHAPTER 13: TRIP Trip knew that he should get some sleep, but he couldn't settle down. Time had passed, but he wasn't sure if it had been five minutes or five hours. His brain was spinning like the wheels of a bicycle with a broken chain. No matter how fast his mind worked, his thoughts just didn't seem to go anywhere. The conversation with Archer kept playing through his head. We all make mistakes…severed all connections with Terra Prime…go see Phlox…little brother I never had…I'd appreciate it if you'd call me Jon. Trip rolled onto his back and, raising his arms, interlaced his fingers behind his head. He tried desperately to focus his thoughts. In truth, he wasn't quite sure how to feel. He and the captain had been friends for over a decade. Sure, there had been some rocky patches, but even in the darkest times each man knew he could count on the other. The need to further define their friendship had never seemed necessary. The little brother I never had. Trip shifted nervously. A part of him was happy. Archer had grown so distant in the Expanse that Trip wasn't sure there was much of a friendship left to salvage. He thought that he'd become just another member of the crew. Now the captain not only wanted to be his friend, but readily acknowledged that their relationship went far deeper. Trip wasn't sure why it should mean so much to him, but it did. But what did this deepening friendship really mean for him? Trip knew that the captain sometimes needed a confidant, and in the past he had always tried to be there for him. When the captain was down, he needed someone to boost his spirits. If he was lonely, he wanted someone to keep him company. If he had doubts or fears, he needed a sounding board. Trip had done all of that and more over the years. He just wasn't sure that he had the strength to keep on doing it. How could he boost someone else's spirits when he had trouble seeing any joy in his own life? How could he offer companionship when all he wanted to do was lock himself away from the world? How could he provide reassurance when every waking moment was filled with doubts and fears? He just couldn't be the friend…the brother that the captain wanted or needed. How long would Archer continue to put up with his temper and his stubbornness? He'd already driven T'Pol away. He'd broken with his parents. How long would it be before he drove the captain, Malcolm and all of the others away, too? And when that happened, when he had alienated everyone who meant anything to him, his failure would rise up and squeeze the life from him. Maybe he should do what the captain said. Maybe he should talk to Phlox. He knew he wasn't well. What if he did something that might endanger the ship or the crew? Restless, he rolled over on his side. No. He could never acknowledge that he was sick. He was a Starfleet officer – supposedly the best of the best. How long would he be able to stay on Enterprise or any other ship, for that matter, once Starfleet found out that he'd had some sort of mental breakdown? He'd be branded for the rest of his life as unstable and unreliable. His career would be over. If he was lucky, he might be able to get some low-level desk job in research and development, but he'd never be tapped to head a project. He'd never be to allowed to push Starfleet's engines to warp 7 and beyond. And he'd certainly never be put in command of a ship. He could hear the whispers in his head. "Don't put too much pressure on Tucker; he can't handle the stress. You don't want him to fall apart like he did on Enterprise, do you?" He'd lose everything. Nope. He had to work through this on his own. After all, he'd done it before. He knew he wasn't weak. He'd handled stress and grief and loss. He'd survived the Expanse. T'Pol was right. What's done is done. He had to put everything behind him and move on. But move on to what? Did he even have a future? Trip sat up abruptly and rubbed his eyes. There was no way he was going to get any sleep tonight. He needed to move around, but he had to do it quietly so that he didn't wake the captain. He threw open the tent flap and crawled outside. Sometime in the night a breeze had pushed the fog away. It was still muggy, but at least it was bearable. As he stood up, he took a deep breath and looked around. The silence was oppressive. What he wouldn't give for the sound of a cricket or the gentle murmur of rustling leaves. Trip shuttered. This ugly, god-forsaken planet was as empty and worthless as his life had become. He tilted his head back and focused his attention on the stars. They reminded him of his childhood fantasies, heroic dreams of spaceships and exciting adventures on alien worlds. All of those had now turned to dust. Lost in thought, he started to pick his way over the uneven ground. He moved sluggishly, the added pull of gravity weighing him down. When he'd left on Enterprise's maiden voyage he was brimming over with naïve enthusiasm, but what had it gotten him? Yes, he'd seen some amazing sights, but overshadowing all of them were the endless tragedies. Every first contact revealed an enemy and a potential threat to the continued existence of humankind. He wanted to be an explorer, but he was, in fact, nothing more than a glorified mechanic with a gigantic bulls-eye on his back. That wasn't how he wanted to live his life. He used to look forward to each new planet, each new star or comet or nebula, with awe and anticipation. Now all he could muster was fear for what the future might hold. Who would be maimed next? Who would be killed? How many people would die because of him? Tired, Trip flopped down on a patch of dry ground and leaned back against a large rock. He'd failed everyone who'd ever counted on him. When he was twelve he'd made a pledge to his sister Elizabeth that he'd always be there for her. Once, during a family vacation, she'd wandered off and gotten lost in the woods. It was hours before they'd finally found her, hungry, frightened and completely exhausted. That night, when she woke up crying, Trip wrote out his promise to her that he would always be there to protect her. He'd rolled it up, slipped a rubber band around it and placed it under her pillow. Then he sat by her bed until she went back to sleep. When the family returned home, the rolled up pledge went with them. When she grew older, Lizzie had it framed and hung it on the wall in her bedroom as a constant reminder that her big brother loved her and promised to keep her safe. But he didn't keep that promise. Now the home, the promise, and Lizzie were all gone. He felt his throat constrict as the visions from his nightmares returned in full force. His sister was so lovely, so vibrant, until that unforgiving beam of fire obliterated all trace of her. Thinking only of himself, he'd blithely headed off into space and left her behind, alone and unprotected. And she'd died horribly. She died because of his callous disregard. He'd failed Taylor, Kumata and all of the other crewmen who lost their lives in the Expanse. It was his responsibility to keep the ship and the crew safe, and he'd failed. He'd stepped over and on bloody, mangled bodies to keep the engines online. He'd put machines over men, and men had died because of it. Ensign Masaro had put a phase pistol to his head and blew his brains out because of him. The Cogenitor had killed itself because he couldn't mind his own business. And his little Elizabeth… What kind of a father was he to let his child die before she even had a chance to live? There must have been something he… "Trip," Archer said softly, a look of genuine concern on his face, "are you all right?" Trip rubbed his hand roughly over his eyes and sniffed. "Yeah," he said finally. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake ya." "A full bladder woke me up. When I looked around you were gone. Do you want to talk about whatever's bothering you?" There were no words, nothing he could say. Finally he managed to mumble, "It's nothing to keep you awake, Cap'n." Archer crouched down next to Trip. "Come on back to bed. I'll dig out one of the sedatives Phlox sent along. At least you can get one decent night's sleep." Trip braced his right hand against the rock and levered himself up. "Thanks," he murmured once he was on his feet. "A sedative sounds pretty good." They headed back the way they'd come, guided by the faint light from the lantern inside their tent. When they reached the tent, the captain bent down and crawled through the opening. He immediately began rummaging around in his duffle bag. By the time Trip finished crawling into the tent, Archer was ready, hypospray in hand. Trip lay down on his sleeping bag and tilted his head to one side. The hypospray hissed as Archer pressed it against his neck. He was so worn out, mentally and physically, that it only took a few moments for him to feel drowsy. He lay down and rolled over on his left side with his back to Archer. Already half asleep, he thought he felt the captain gently rubbing his back. It was soothing and reminded him of his mother's tender touch. As a child, when he was restless or didn't feel well, she'd rub his back and sing him to sleep. He missed those times. He missed her. He… * * * * * * "Let's make one more pass over those craters," Archer said from his place in the co-pilot's seat, as he continued to gather data from the external sensors. "I don't think those volcanoes are as dormant as they appear to be." Trip smiled, nodded and banked the shuttlepod to port. He was almost afraid to admit how good he felt. Somehow over the past few days, despite the discomfort and the primitive conditions, he'd started to climb out of the deep, dark hole he'd been trapped in for so long. Grudgingly, he had to admit that the doctor's magic hyposprays might have helped a little bit, but it was more than that. A change of scene had allowed him to distance himself from many of his problems. He knew he'd have to deal with them sooner or later, but for now, he was happy to put the anguish behind him, even if it was only for a little while. They'd spent their first two days on the planet surveying all three land masses. They mapped, photographed, took samples and scanned from the minute they got up until they fell into their sleeping bags at night, and Trip reveled in it. The fact that the sensor data they collected would provide Starfleet with a wealth of information was only the icing on the cake. On the third day, they flew over portions of the vast seas recording the configuration of the ocean floor. When they found that the oceans were teeming with amoeba-like creatures, Tucker could hardly wait to tell Phlox. He knew the doctor would be thrilled. As a matter of fact, they'd probably be hard put to keep the doctor from rushing down to the planet for a little research of his own. As Trip flew the small craft over two massive volcanoes, he allowed his mind to wander. Could this planet be on the same evolutionary path as Earth? For some reason, he found that idea to be very appealing. Would dinosaur-like creatures one day rule this planet? Would humanoids someday walk the same ground he and the captain had just traveled? "We've been cooped up all morning," Archer said, interrupting the engineer's reverie. "What do you say we take a walk?" Tucker turned his head toward Jon and grinned broadly. "You're thinkin' about those mountain hot springs we saw near the polar region, aren't ya?" "Yep," Archer said as he smiled back at his friend. "If I remember correctly, the ground's too rough to land near the base of the mountain range. We'll have to set down a couple of miles away and hike in." "I don't know about you, but I could use some exercise," Trip said happily. "Chef packed enough food for half a dozen MACOs. I think I've gained five pounds already." "You have been pretty free with the fork and spoon lately." "I don't want Chef to think that I don't appreciate his cookin'." When they approached their destination, Trip noted that the mountains that loomed ahead were rough and angular. There was a raw newness about them that was almost intimidating. They seemed to graphically represent the explosive forces of nature that continued to shape this world. "It looks like our best bet for a landing site is gonna be about two and a half miles from the hot springs." "Sounds good," Archer responded. "Set her down." When they were safely on the ground, Archer quickly checked the temperature gauge. "It's quite a bit cooler outside: 7 degrees Celsius. I guess we better break out the jackets." Trip quickly located the jackets and tossed one to Archer before donning his own. Grabbing a backpack, he checked to see that it contained everything he needed. He only hesitated for a moment before sticking in his phase pistol. Common sense told him that there wasn't anything out there, but it never hurt to be prepared. "I don't think we'll need climbing gear," Archer said. "Are you ready?" Trip snatched his backpack. "Let's go." They moved at a slow but steady pace across the vast lava fields, stopping at regular intervals to rest. All around them huge boulders and gigantic slabs of rock littered the ground at odd angles. Trip couldn't help but be reminded of the game of pickup sticks his grandmother had given him when he was seven years old. Sometimes it seemed like they were doing more climbing up and over the dark, lumpy mounds than walking. They'd been at it for about thirty minutes when Trip began to feel uneasy. Something wasn't right. "Jon, you're gonna think I'm crazy," he said hesitantly, "but I think we oughta turn back." The captain slid down a steeply sloped slab of rock, dusted his hands off on the back of his pants and gave his full attention to his chief engineer. "What's wrong? Don't you feel well?" Trip squirmed a little before he answered, "I feel fine. It's just a feeling I have. I think we should head back to the shuttlepod." "There isn't a cloud in the sky," Archer said softly as his head swiveled from side to side. "It's perfectly quiet. There isn't even any wind. What do you know that I don't?" "Nothing, I guess," Trip replied reluctantly. "Whatever we're breathin' must be makin' me paranoid." He took a look up at the pale ocher sky then shook his head. "There's nothing wrong. I'm sorry I slowed us down." "Don't apologize for being careful," Archer said, as he looked intently at his friend. "We've come this far. Why don't we keep going?" "Sounds good," Trip said then took a deep breath. Archer took the lead and Tucker followed, but he did so with a heavy heart. He just couldn't shake the feeling that they were walking into trouble. He kicked at a couple of small stones petulantly as he moved along. Why should he be the one to put a damper on things? He wasn't clairvoyant. This feeling was just a product of his overactive imagination. The two men slowed when they reached a pair of rugged hills which served as a natural gateway to the mountain range beyond. They spied a small reasonably flat area at the base of the first of these hills and headed for it. "Why don't we take a break?" Archer said when they reached the spot. He looked over at Trip, who nodded in agreement. Shrugging out of his backpack, Jon immediately sat down on the rocky ground and began rummaging around in his pack. Trip took a drink from his water pouch, all the while studying the towering cliffs in the distance. "Are you sure we aren't going to need climbing gear? Those mountains are straight up and straight down." "Don't worry," Archer said. He moved over so that he was sitting next to his friend. Switching his half-eaten energy bar to his left hand, he pulled a padd from his jacket pocket and handed it to Trip. "There's a narrow gap between these two hills." He pointed to the padd then gestured over to the left. "Once we get through that gap, it's about half a mile to this plateau. The hot springs are on the top. It should be an easy climb – less than 100 feet." Trip tapped the padd absent-mindedly against his left hand and stared off into the distance. "Trip?" Archer nudged his friend's left arm. "You're still worried, aren't you?" After a moment, Trip straightened his back and took a deep breath. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I just can't shake this feeling that we're walking into trouble. Pretty silly, huh?" Archer put his arm around Trip's shoulders. "If you want to head back, that's okay with me. It's your call." "But we're so close to the hot springs." "That's not important. Tell me what you want to do." Trip turned and looked Jon squarely in the eyes. "I want to get the hell out of here." Archer clapped the engineer on the shoulder and stood up. "If I want to see hot springs, I'll pay a visit to Yellowstone. We've made scans from the air. That's good enough. Let's head back to the shuttlepod." As Trip started to rise, the ground suddenly gave a tremendous lurch and began to shake violently. Instinctively, he grabbed for Archer in an attempt to steady himself. Trip looked up and, seeing rocks breaking free from the hill above, instantly braced himself and shoved Archer out of the way. Before he could protect himself, rock fragments struck his body, staggering him. He tried to keep his footing as the ground heaved and shook, but he was quickly knocked off his feet, falling hard onto his back. He fought to focus his eyes, only to see rocks of all shapes and sizes tumbling toward him. Quickly, he threw his arms up to protect his face as he was struck several more times in quick succession. Dazed and in pain, he rolled over on his side and curled into a ball with his arms thrown up to protect his head. He felt a blow to his ribs that drove the air from his lungs just as another rock slammed into his right arm. The rumblings of a world tearing itself apart deafened him as the ground shook furiously beneath him. He coughed as clouds of rock dust filled the air, clogging his nose and throat. Just as suddenly as they'd started, the tremors stopped. Trip lay curled tightly into himself as a few more stray rocks continued to rain down, and then everything was quiet. For a time, he remained motionless, fearing that the tremors would start again. Finally, he lowered his arms enough to peek out at the debris-strewn land around him. "Jon?" he managed to croak weakly. He tried to sit up, but he could only manage to raise his upper body enough so that he could lean on his left forearm. "Cap'n?" Nothing and no one moved. Slowly, he raised a trembling hand to try and clear the grit from his eyes. He blinked several times and shook his head, but his vision still remained blurred. Squinting, he looked out at a world dominated by shades of black and grey. There were only vague shapes and nothing looked human. His eyes frantically scanned the ground about him until they finally rested on a familiar looking lump. "Capn?" he whispered. His sluggish mind tried to process what he was seeing. Suddenly the tumblers clicked into place. "Cap'n!" He knew he couldn't stand yet, so he lowered his upper body and slowly began to crawl over to his fallen friend. One thought echoed over and over in his head. He's dead because of you! When he reached Archer's body, Tucker stretched out his right arm, but just before his fingers made contact, he hesitated. What if the captain was dead? How could he deal with the crushing weight of another tragic loss? Slowly, a bright spark of reason burned through the fear. Knowing was better than not knowing. Besides, if the captain wasn't dead, he needed help immediately. "Wake up, Cap'n," Trip pleaded as he grabbed Archer's shoulder and shook it. When he got no response, his fingers moved to Archer's neck. A wave of relief swept over him when he felt a pulse beating beneath his fingertips. Brushing away dust and debris as he went, he moved his hands carefully over Archer's arms, legs, and back, trying to assess the damage. Nothing appeared to be broken. He decided to risk moving his friend. Arranging Archer's arms over his head, Trip pushed up and over, rolling the captain onto his back. Opening Archer's jacket, Tucker once again tried to check for broken bones. Everything, including the captain's ribs, appeared to be intact, but when Trip checked Archer's head, his hand came away bloody. Trip anxiously looked around. The captain had taken off his backpack. If he could find it, it would be easier to use Archer's medkit than try to reach his own. He finally spotted the backpack peeking out from underneath a pile of stones. He crawled over, grabbed one of the straps with his left hand and pulled. After tugging a couple of times, it came loose, and he dragged it over to where the captain lay. Slowly, he pulled his battered body into a sitting position. Digging around in the backpack, he finally located the medkit and removed the medical scanner. It appeared to be working, but since he was having trouble focusing his eyes, he had to content himself with hoping for the best. Turning the captain's head to the side, he scanned his wound before quickly running the scanner over the rest of Archer's body. Shaking his head, Trip tried to clear his vision long enough to read the results. A concussion – that wasn't exactly a big surprise. He wasn't a hundred percent certain, but he didn't think there was anything worse. That was assuming, of course, that the scanner hadn't been damaged and that he was able to correctly make out the readings. Slowly, his first aid training kicked in. With trembling hands, he used sterile wipes to remove the blood and clean the wound. Then he applied an antiseptic and wrapped a bandage around Archer's head to control the bleeding. When he was finished, he patted the captain's cheek a couple of times. "Come on, Cap'n," he said anxiously, "you gotta wake up now." When he got no response, he frantically slapped a little harder. "Cap'n, we have to get back to the shuttlepod. Open your eyes!" Trip dropped his head in defeat. It was no use. He was on his own. Reaching into the backpack one more time, he removed a thermal blanket and did his best to cover his friend. When he'd done all that he could do, Trip shakily leaned back against a rock. He was so cold. Shivering, he wrapped his arms tightly around his body. He looked over at Jon, but then guilt forced him to turn away. As he slowly rocked back and forth, he mumbled over and over, "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry." Trip made no effort to wipe away the tears that filled his eyes and slowly snaked their way down his cheeks. His befogged brain struggled to make sense of everything that had happened. The wound was on the side of the captain's head. If the rock slide caused the injury, wouldn't the wound be on the back of his head? Sure it would…wouldn't it? Trip sniffed and dipped his head. When he shoved the captain, Jon must have hit his head. Now his friend was going to die out here in the middle of nowhere, and it was his fault. A searing pain, not of the body but of the spirit, shot through Trip. Another friend had trusted him. Another friend was going to die. He squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to stop the tears and blot that ugly thought from his mind. There had been so much death and violence. He wasn't sure that he could take any more. Why did he always fail the people he cared for the most? Why couldn't he save them? Finally, he sniffled, raised his head and looked around. He knew he had to pull himself together. The captain wasn't dead yet, but he would be if he didn't get some help. Trip reached over and pulled the blanket up under Jon's chin. He had to think. After forcing himself to calm down and review their situation, Trip decided that he had three choices: he could stay where he was and wait for help; he could head off by himself and bring the shuttlepod back to pick up Jon; or he could try to get the captain to the shuttlepod. He didn't think much of any of the options. What if he decided to stay put and Enterprise was delayed? Jon might die before help could arrive. Or worse yet, what would happen to them if Enterprise never returned to pick them up? They would be completely helpless. No, Trip decided, he couldn't sit back and do nothing. The first option was definitely out. He knew he stood a far better chance of reaching the shuttlepod if he went alone. To this point, he really hadn't given any thought to his own injuries, but he finally had to admit to himself that he might have a couple of cracked ribs and his right shoulder was bruised. It would be hard enough for a healthy man to get back to the shuttlepod. What chance did an injured man have, especially if he had to carry someone else? If he didn't strike out on his own, neither of them stood much of a chance for survival. But what would happen to Jon if he abandoned him? Trip reached over and pressed his fingers to Archer's neck just to reassure himself that the captain was still alive. What if the shuttlepod was damaged in the earthquake? He might not be able to get back in time. Trip couldn't bear the thought of the captain dying all alone on this godforsaken planet. No, Archer was his responsibility. He had to see this through. That left option three. Like it or not, he had to take Jon with him. Once the decision was made, Trip felt a bit better. He knew it wasn't going to be easy, but it was the right thing to do – the only thing to do. At least he had little control over the situation. That was something. He looked at Archer's backpack and sighed. He might be able to leave it behind, but he'd have to take most of the contents with him. He unhooked his own backpack and painfully maneuvered his upper body so that it slowly slid down his arms. Reaching back with his left hand, he grabbed a strap and pulled it towards him. He opened it and started to transfer things from Jon's backpack. When he picked up the water pouch he suddenly realized that his throat was almost painfully dry. He opened the bag and drank. He paused for a breath then took another drink. Feeling better, he capped Archer's water pouch and put it aside next to his own. Just as he was ready to close his backpack, he realized they might need the blanket. Carefully retrieving it, Trip folded the blanket over a couple of times and stuffed it in. Wincing in pain, he managed to get the backpack strapped on again and hung the water pouches around his neck. He was as ready as he would ever be. Holding his side, Trip slowly got to his feet and took a look around. A crevice had opened up about mile away. It cut across the surface, in zigzag fashion, like a large open wound. Off in the distance, steam rose from the crevice in great yellowish clouds. Trip made a mental note to take a little extra care to watch where he was going. As he looked back and forth across the terrain, he slowly realized that something wasn't quite right. The landscape looked the same, and yet it was very different. When realization dawned, he could do little more than mutter, "Son of a bitch." The earthquake had done a pretty thorough job of rearranging things. Too bad we didn't left a trail of breadcrumbs, he thought ruefully. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his scanner. He pressed the power button and was relieved to see the display spring to life. He checked the shuttlepod's location and returned the scanner to his pocket. He could only hope that the readings were accurate. If they weren't, well…he couldn't handle the idea of being lost right now. Not on top of everything else. Slowly, Trip leaned over and grabbed the front of Jon's shirt and pulled him into a sitting position. Undaunted by the pain from his damaged ribs, Trip took a deep breath, gritted his teeth and pulled Jon up so that he was stretched across Trip's shoulders. Gripping one of the captain's arms and one of his legs, Trip tried to straighten up, but another burst of pain quickly forced him to halt. He thought about lowering Archer down to the ground again, but that wasn't an option. He had to do this. There was no one else. Taking another deep breath, Trip tried again. Screaming as the pain lanced through him, he finally managed to stand erect. Breathing heavily, he shifted Archer's weight to a slightly more comfortable position and they set out. It was slow going as he stumbled and poked his way among the rocks and troughs. The added gravity pulled at his feet as he shuffled along. He was unable to wipe away the beads of sweat that trailed down his face. He could only blink futilely against the stinging sensation when a few errant drops ran lazily into his eyes. He was so tired and, try as he might, he couldn't seem to pull enough air into his lungs. In his weakened condition, he couldn't climb up and over the rocky mounds so he had to find a way to go around them. He was forced to look down, constantly searching the ground for loose stones that might cause him to twist an ankle. With each faltering step over the rough and broken ground, he felt Archer's weight pressing down on him. He was responsible for this man's life. If he fell, if he stopped to rest, his friend would die. He had to stay on his feet. He had to keep moving. Step after step, yard after yard, as the pain and fatigue began to mount, his mind slowly began to focus on the one person who meant the most to him. He took refuge in the memories of their time together: working, arguing, and making love. T'Pol was and always would be everything to him. Just the sight of her stirred him in a way that no other woman ever could. The feel of her skin. Her unique scent. The way her eyes sparked when he challenged her. Her passion when they were alone in the dark. He'd become so lost in thought that he was only vaguely aware of the broken ground around him. Suddenly, he stumbled, and this time he wasn't able to maintain his balance. Both men went down in a heap. For a moment, Trip lay dazed and disoriented. He had no idea where they were or how far they'd come, but he did know that if he didn't pull himself together they were both going to both die right there. He squeezed his eyes shut. Maybe the captain was already dead. He still hadn't moved. Trip sniffed and opened his eyes. No, he couldn't accept that. He slowly sat up and pulled his legs out from underneath the captain's body. When he pressed his fingers to Archer's neck, he felt a weak, but steady pulse. His friend was still alive. Relieved, Trip raised his head and looked around. As far as the eye could see there was nothing but desolation. He uncapped his water pouch and took a long drink. Suddenly, his body tensed and he began to cough. Throwing his arms around his rib cage, he grimaced until he felt the pain begin to ease. He knew he was weakening fast. He had to find out where they were. Reaching into a pocket, he pulled out his scanner and checked their position. Although he'd gone slightly off course, Trip almost cried for joy when he realized that he'd covered over two-thirds of the distance back to the shuttlepod and safety. Then reality set in. He still had a long way to go. Once again a series of coughs rumbled up from his chest only this time he coughed up a little bright red blood. The sight of blood on his hand seemed to rob him of his last remaining shred of hope. Why was he fooling himself? He wasn't sure that he could stand, let alone cover the remaining distance. And he was tired – more tired than he'd been at any other single moment in his life. He'd proven, once again, that he wasn't strong enough, or smart enough to make things right. Thanks to him, they'd never really had a chance to make it. Slumping next to Archer, he closed his eyes in defeat and let sleep take him. "Trip." Tucker stirred, but his eyes refused to open. "Trip." When he heard the voice a second time, he opened his eyes and looked over at Archer, but he was clearly still unconscious. "Now I'm imagining things," Tucker mumbled. "That's just great." He closed his eyes and, once again, started to drift toward oblivion. "Trip." His eyes popped open. Slowly, he pushed himself up on one elbow and looked around. Seeing nothing, he was just about to sink back down when he took one last look and saw her walking slowly toward him. She was wearing her blue uniform and, as always, she was incredibly beautiful. "T'Pol?" he whispered incredulously. When she came to a halt about three feet in front him, he looked around again. "Where are the others? You didn't come alone, did ya?" She looked down at him, but made no move to come closer. He decided to try again. "Damn it, T'Pol, say something." When he again received no response, he rubbed his eyes to be sure he wasn't dreaming. No, she was still there. Now he was starting to get mad. "Why are you just standin' there?" He tried to yell, but his voice came out as little more than a series of hoarse gasps. "Can't you see the captain's hurt? Why'd you come down here if you aren't gonna help us?" He tried to stand, but his legs wouldn't support his weight, and he fell back down. "Trip, you have to get up." When he looked up again, she was bending over him. He reached for her and she vanished. Sucking in his breath, he stared at the place where she had been in open disbelief. Suddenly, a wave of hopelessness washed over him. He sank back down and, burying his face in his arm, fought to hold back the tears. He was either dreaming or he was going stark, staring mad. As he lay on the hard unforgiving rock, he thought he felt someone gently stroke his hair, but that was impossible. It had to be his imagination…or maybe a breath of wind. "Trip, you must get up." Numbly, he shook his head. She couldn't even let him die in peace. "Leave me alone, T'Pol," he mumbled. "I know you're not real." "Only you can save the captain's life. Do this for me." He raised his head and saw her staring at him, willing him on, but shame finally forced him to look away. He didn't want her to see him like this – a broken, defeated shell of a man – but he just didn't have anything left to give. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I just can't do it anymore." "If you do not get up, you will both die. You cannot allow that to happen." "Please, T'Pol…" "Get up! That's an order." "Now wait just a minute…" He struggled to sit up. "Get on your feet and follow me, Commander." It was pretty obvious that she wasn't going to leave him alone. She was so damn stubborn. Would it kill her to try just once to make his life a little easier? He pressed his lips together and looked over at Jon. The bandage on the captain's head was still in place, and the bleeding hadn't started up again. He reached over and felt Archer's face; it was cool. No fever. That's good, Trip thought then he hesitated. Or was it? Maybe his skin was too cool. Was his friend going into shock? Angry and frustrated, he picked up a handful of grit and threw it away. Why couldn't he think clearly? What good was first aid training if he got everything confused? What good was he to anybody? It took three tries, but he finally managed to get to his feet. Steadying himself against a large rock, Trip leaned over, grabbed the front of Archer's uniform, and tugged. Straining against his friend's weight, Trip worked until Archer's body was standing upright, leaning against the rock. Biting his lip against the pain, Trip slowly pulled the captain's limp body onto his shoulders again. "Follow me, Commander," T'Pol said as she started to move away from him. "You've rested long enough." Trip groaned and staggered forward. Time had no meaning. There was only excruciating pain, unrelenting thirst and the constant struggle to breathe in the stinking air. His mouth and throat were so dry that it hurt to swallow, but he couldn't afford to stop for a drink. Staggering under Archer's weight, he kept his eyes riveted on the ground in front of him. Only when he thought he was going off course or he felt his spirits flag did he look up. She was always there leading the way, exactly ten paces in front of him. She never looked back, but her presence helped to ease his loneliness. He was sweating profusely now. His body shook from cold, agony and fatigue. Suddenly a large lava mound loomed before him. Bewildered, he stumbled to a halt. The great black rock, thrust upward by nature's fury, stood between him and the shuttlepod. His mind screamed for him to go around it, but his body was finished. This time the obstacle was too great. Slowly, he leaned against the rock and shifted his weight slightly to allow Archer's body to slide to the ground. "Mr. Tucker, what are you doing?" T'Pol stood close to him, her arms planted firmly behind her back. "You must not stop," she said commandingly. "The shuttlepod is not far away." "Don't you understand, T'Pol," he said as he gasped for breath, "I can't make it." He dropped his head and let the rock support him. He knew he was dying, but that was okay. It didn't really matter anymore. He'd failed for the last time. This would be better for everyone. "Is this all the captain means to you?" T'Pol was relentless. "Is this how you repay him for his friendship – for all he has done for you?" "Leave me alone," Tucker wheezed feebly. "You are abandoning him." Trip raised his head. "You should talk." He coughed violently then shakily wiped the blood away with the back of his hand. "You abandoned me, too. Remember?" His voice was hoarse and barely audible. "I have not abandoned you, Commander. I am here. I will help you do what must be done." "I can't." "You must." She was standing so close to him now that he could reach out and touch her cheek, but if he did he knew she would fade away and that would destroy him. "You know what is owed, Commander. You must do your duty." "Please, T'Pol…" "Only a coward abandons his friends." "I'm not a coward," Trip said angrily as he tried to straighten up. "Then prove it." Trip looked down at Archer, unconscious at his feet. She had no right to ask this of him. He'd proved his loyalty over and over again. "I'm not Vulcan, T'Pol," he mumbled wearily. "I don't have the strength." "You are the equal of a Vulcan in many ways. You only have to try." Her soft brown eyes never left his. "You must save the captain's life." "What about my life, T'Pol?" he mumbled dejectedly. "Commander?" She stared at him uncomprehendingly. He shook his head weakly then whispered, "Never mind." Trip didn't think a body could be numb and in pain at the same time, but he was discovering that it was indeed possible. His legs felt as responsive as the cold, black rock he leaned against. He knew he wasn't a coward. He thought she knew it, too, but obviously he was wrong. When it came to her, he was wrong about a lot of things. Wrapping his arms protectively around his rib cage, he once again looked down at Archer's inert body. He shook his head as he tried to force himself to think. He had to figure out what to do next. As he worked to bring some semblance of order to his muddled thoughts, two things were clear: he couldn't pick Jon up again and he couldn't leave him. If only the captain would wake up everything would be all right. Trip lowered himself to the ground. Leaning over, he lightly slapped Archer's face. "Come on, Cap'n," he whispered desperately, "ya gotta wake up." The silence pressed in on him. Taking hold of Archer's shoulders he awkwardly shook him. "Please." When there was no response he collapsed on top of Archer and buried his face in the front of the captain's jacket. "Please," he sobbed softly. "Please help me." "What are you going to do, Commander?" Tucker sniffed weakly then looked up and met T'Pol's eyes. "I can't carry him anymore," he whispered. "I am not interested in what you can't do. How do you intend to save the captain's life?" "Well," Tucker said shakily as he tried to think, "I guess I could drag him." "Then do it." In the face of T'Pol's determination, Trip couldn't help but be a little miffed. What about a little compassion? What about a little understanding? Where was the concern for his welfare? As he pulled and shoved Jon's body to get it into position, he mumbled weakly, "You've got a real attitude problem, T'Pol. Ya know that?" His comments merited only one delicately raised Vulcan eyebrow. He struggled and worked until he was on his feet, clutching Archer's hands behind his back. Straining and groaning, he slowly began to move forward, dragging the captain's body behind him. He moved laboriously around the great black rock and followed in T'Pol's footsteps. Coughing again, he felt dampness on his chin and knew that it was probably blood. Slogging along, he kept his head down, focusing solely on putting one foot unsteadily in front of the other. His mind couldn't deal with the damage he might be doing to his friend's body. Just when it seemed as though his journey would never end he heard T'Pol say, "Trip, look up." He barely had the strength to keep his eyes open, but there was something in her voice that made him fight against the fatigue and raise his head. There five yards in front of him was the shuttlepod. Once he became fully aware of what he was seeing, a mammoth wave of relief washed over him, threatening to bring him to his knees. Half crying, half laughing, he looked jubilantly for T'Pol. It only took a moment for his joy to turn to anguish when he realized that his Vulcan pathfinder was no longer with him. "T'Pol," he shouted feebly, "please don't leave me! I need you!" There was no answer, not even the whistle of the wind. His eyes desperately searched the landscape, but she was gone without a trace. Once again she had abandoned him when he needed her most. When would he learn? Even though she had pushed him away time and time again, he always believed, deep down in his heart, that she would come back to him. This time, though, the message was clear. She had come to save the captain. She hadn't come to save him. He was only a means to an end. And with that single thought, the tiny flame of hope he'd been nursing for so long sputtered and died. He was finally forced to accept that it was over between them. Shuddering, he didn't think it was possible for anyone to feel so alone. Distraught and pushed beyond what man was meant to endure, he slowly moved forward again. When he reached the shuttlepod he stood still for a moment, weaving slightly. Finally, he forced himself to release his grip, allowing Jon's arms to fall to the ground. Knowing that his ordeal was nearing an end, Trip collapsed beside the captain. With trembling fingers he reached for Archer's neck. There was a pulse; he was still alive. That, at least, was something. Shivering in a uniform damp with sweat, Trip opened his water pouch and drank until the water ran freely from the corners of his mouth. Before he capped the pouch, he ran his jacket sleeve back and forth over his mouth and chin. He had to move. Using the side of the shuttlepod to pull himself up, he managed to struggle back onto his feet and open the hatch. Then he dropped back down to his knees, grabbed the front of Archer's jacket and pulled his friend towards him. Maneuvering laboriously, he pushed Jon's body up and over the threshold and into the shuttlepod. Trip felt sharp stabbing pains in his shoulder and mid section as he crawled in behind the captain. He couldn't avoid landing on Archer's legs when he entered, but he was too tired to care. Besides, he rationalized, the captain couldn't feel it anyway. As Trip struggled to close the hatch, he realized that he didn't have the strength to move his friend onto one of the benches. He was sorry, but Jon would just have to stay on the floor. Maybe later… Trip pulled himself up into the pilot's seat said a silent prayer of thanks when the engine immediately powered up. As the shuttlepod rose, he knew he just had to hang on for a little longer. His job wasn't finished until he'd returned the captain safely to Enterprise. CHAPTER 14: PHLOX Doctor Phlox moved quickly down the corridor and into the turbolift. It was a rare occurrence for him to be called to the bridge. He hoped that there was nothing seriously wrong. The Tellarite delegation had disembarked several days ago without incident. Perhaps it had something to do with the captain and Commander Tucker. Oh well, he'd find out soon enough. As the turbolift doors opened and he stepped out onto the bridge, all eyes turned in his direction. There was an air of tension, but nothing else seemed to indicate that Enterprise was in the midst of a crisis. "Over here, Doctor," Lieutenant Reed called softly from the situation room. "Ensign Sato. Ensign Mayweather." The two ensigns rose from their stations and followed the doctor over to the table in the middle of the situation room. They were barely out of their seats before other crewmen stepped in to take their places. Commander T'Pol stood with her head bowed as she made adjustments to the data displayed on the monitor at the center of the table. Dr. Phlox was concerned. The commander appeared to be almost…well…fidgeting. That was unlike the usually self-possessed Vulcan. As though she had read his mind, T'Pol's head came up and her eyes locked on his. Pressing her lips together, she pulled her shoulders back and straightened her posture. Outwardly she appeared to be in complete control of the situation, but beneath the stoical façade it was apparent that she was deeply distressed. "Have you been able to raise the shuttlepod again?" T'Pol asked as she turned her attention to Ensign Sato. "I'm sorry, Commander," Hoshi responded, "I was only able to get through one time. We're still trying to raise them, but their comm system may be down." T'Pol took a deep breath and turned to the Denobulan. "Doctor, Captain Archer did not check in today at the prearranged time. Ensign Sato has been trying to contact the shuttlepod, but, with the exception of that single transmission, she has not been successful." T'Pol gripped the edge of the table a little tighter. "Commander Tucker indicated that the captain had been injured and would require medical attention." She dropped her head slightly and averted her eyes. "I believe the commander may be injured as well." Phlox looked carefully at T'Pol for a moment before turning his attention to Hoshi. "Did Mr. Tucker indicate what type of injuries the captain had sustained?" "He only said that the captain was hurt and needed help." Hoshi's eyes drifted nervously to T'Pol. "He said he was fine, but his voice sounded kind of weak. I suppose that could have been caused by a poor transmission. Our connection wasn't very good." Malcolm pressed a button and the viewscreen at the center of the table changed. The area of space around Tellar was now visible. "We have a fix on Shuttlepod Two's position. Here," he pointed to a small dot pulsating amongst the stars. "As far as we can tell, the shuttlepod is on course and proceeding at maximum impulse power." Reed looked over toward Mayweather. The young ensign nodded once in recognition and continued on with the briefing. "Fortunately, it took us less time than anticipated to reach the Tellarite home world, so we're ahead of schedule. If we can maintain warp five, I estimate that we'll rendezvous with the shuttlepod in about twenty minutes." "Ensign Sato, let me know as soon as you make contact with the shuttlepod." Hoshi nodded once in acknowledgement. "Are there any questions?" T'Pol asked tightly as she looked at the officers around the table. "If there is nothing else, you are dismissed." When the officers began to move back to their stations on the bridge, Phlox held his ground. His eyes remained locked on the Vulcan first officer. T'Pol shifted nervously under his gaze. "Is there something I can do for you, Doctor?" Phlox slowly closed the distance between them and said in a low voice, "Could I speak with you…in private?" "This is not a good time, Doctor. After we have recovered the captain..." Phlox did not intend to be denied. "Now, if you please, Commander." T'Pol nodded stiffly. "We can use the captain's ready room. Follow me, Doctor." As the two officers approached the ready room, T'Pol caught Lieutenant Reed's eye. "Please inform me if there is any change." "Understood, Commander," Reed responded. Once the door had closed behind them, T'Pol turned to face the doctor. "What is so urgent that it could not wait until this situation has been resolved?" Phlox stood silently observing her. Her emotions seemed closer to the surface than at any time since the death of her child. Something was seriously wrong. "Doctor, you are trying my patience." "I apologize, Commander," he said quietly. "If there is something wrong I would like to help you if I can." Obviously distressed T'Pol walked over to the viewport. Keeping her back to Phlox, she said, "I am understandably concerned for the welfare of the captain." "And Commander Tucker?" the doctor asked quietly. Phlox didn't think it was possible but her posture became even more rigid. "And Commander Tucker," she said tightly. "Both men are vital members of this crew. We need to retrieve them as soon as possible." The doctor moved deeper into the room so that he could see her face, but once again she turned away from him. "Why do you believe that Commander Tucker is injured?" he asked. "Ensign Sato said that his voice sounded weak." "That's not the same thing, T'Pol. You are obviously distressed far beyond what this situation would seem to warrant. You can talk to me. I assure you that I will be discreet." She turned and looked at him frostily. "There is nothing to discuss." Phlox clasped his hands in front of him and sighed. This was not going to be as easy as he'd hoped. "I'm not a fool, T'Pol. I've treated many Vulcans over the years. I even lived on Vulcan for a brief time." "Doctor, please…" "I've seen the way you interact with Commander Tucker. It is apparent to anyone who wants to take the time to study the two of you that your relationship has gone beyond that of two colleagues or even two lovers. Am I correct?" She shook her head. "So I ask you again, why do you believe that Commander Tucker is injured?" T'Pol pressed her lips together and remained silent. Phlox threw up his hands in exasperation. "T'Pol, I am not asking this because I'm nosy. I know you value your privacy as much as I value my own, but I am the chief medical officer on this ship. If you have information that can help me do my job, then you must be honest with me." When she remained unresponsive, Phlox realized that he no longer had time for subtlety. "Were you able to bond with Mr. Tucker?" T'Pol spun around and stared at the doctor. For a few tense moments, he was afraid that she would ignore his pleas, but suddenly her resolve crumbled. In the blink of an eye, all of the emotions that she had worked so hard to control played across her face, giving him a peek at her inner turmoil. "He is in a great deal of pain," she whispered. "Have you been able to communicate with him in any way?" Phlox asked solicitously. "No," she said softly. She raised one trembling hand to her lips then, apparently realizing it was a show of weakness, clasped both hands firmly behind her back. "At first I didn't want to believe it, but I can't deny it any longer. The pain is too real." "Does the captain know about the bond?" "No one knows. It is something very personal and private that Mr. Tucker and I share." As she looked at the doctor her eyes held a look of great sadness. "As we grew apart, our bond became less of a factor in our lives. In the last few months I have not even been aware of it." T'Pol spoke as though this admission was very difficult for her to make. "Commander Tucker must be in a great deal of distress if he is no longer able to shield his feelings from me. He has become quite adept at shutting me out." Phlox didn't know what to say. He was aware that the Vulcan's relationship with the chief engineer was complicated, but it was evidently far more difficult than even he imagined. "Can I give you something for the discomfort, T'Pol?" "No," she said adamantly. "As long as I can feel his pain, I know he still is with me." "I don't know the extent of your bond, but if you learn anything more from the commander, please let me know. I will do everything I can for him, T'Pol…and for the captain. You must have faith that everything will be all right." Squaring her shoulders and raising her chin, T'Pol was once again the efficient, emotionless first officer. "We will rendezvous with the shuttlepod in eight minutes. I will meet you in the launch bay." "I'll make sure that sickbay is prepared." He started toward the door then stopped. "Of course everything we've said here was said in confidence, Commander." "Thank you, Doctor." As Phlox left the ready room he looked over toward the communication station. He caught Hoshi's eye, but she only shook her head. Hurrying back to sickbay, he began to make mental preparations for the coming emergency. Thanks to T'Pol, he now had a better idea of what to expect. He probably had two patients, both with serious injuries. He only regretted that it had been necessary to invade T'Pol's privacy. * * * * * * All eyes watched the red light over the door as they waited for the air pressure to be restored to the launch bay. When the light turned green, Malcolm opened the door and stood back as T'Pol and the doctor hurried to the shuttlepod. Phlox allowed T'Pol to open the hatch then gently moved her aside. The doctor started to enter the shuttlepod, but stopped when he saw the captain's body lying sprawled on the deck just inside the hatch. Quickly, he reached in and ran his medical scanner over Archer. "We need to get the captain to sickbay immediately," he called over his shoulder to the members of his medical team. "T'Pol could you…" He stopped in mid sentence when he looked up and saw that the Vulcan's attention was locked not on the captain, but on the other occupant of the shuttlepod. Commander Tucker stood like a sentinel over Archer's body. His right hand gripped the back of the pilot's seat while his left arm wrapped protectively around his mid section. His eyes never left the captain. Phlox reached in, pushed one of Archer's legs aside, and carefully climbed into the shuttlepod. Kneeling beside the body of his patient, he gently rolled Archer onto his back. He quickly checked his patient's pupils and scanned the injured area near his temple. "Give me a hand here," he said to two of the corpsmen waiting at the open hatch. As the three men carefully lifted Archer out of the shuttlepod, Phlox admonished the corpsmen, "Be careful with his head. That's right. Good. Now get him to sickbay. I'll be right along." While the two corpsmen moved off with the captain, Phlox glanced quickly at the remaining members of his medical team. "Stand by," he cautioned them. "We have another patient." Out of the corner of his eye, Phlox noticed T'Pol take a step toward the hatch. He immediately thrust his hand forward, stopping her. "Please stay here, Commander." "I must see him," she said huskily. "No." Phlox knew he had to be firm. "You must let me do my job. I'll see to Mr. Tucker." Grudgingly, T'Pol nodded her head. Her rigid posture and compressed lips gave only a hint of her struggle to remain in control. Phlox heard a cough behind him. When he turned around, he saw Tucker grimace and clutch his upper body. Before the doctor could respond, the engineer's body was racked by another coughing spasm, only this time blood bubbled from the commander's lips and slowly trickled down his chin. Phlox quickly stood and moved toward his stricken friend. He'd been prepared to find a man in pain, not a man who appeared to be literally dying on his feet. "Come with me, Commander," he said in a calm though authoritative voice. "We need to get you to sickbay." "Is the Cap'n okay?" Trip asked breathlessly, his voice barely above a whisper. Concerned, the doctor reached out instinctively to steady the young man. "Commander…" "No," Tucker shouted feebly and pulled back from Phlox's outstretched hand. "Is he okay?" Realizing that his patient would not go willingly, Phlox decided to try the next best thing. "Please sit down, Commander, and let me take a look at you," he coaxed. Slowly, the doctor tried to grasp Tucker's arm. This time Trip didn't fight it. As soon as Phlox wrapped his hand around the sleeve of Tucker's filthy field jacket, he could feel the engineer's body shaking uncontrollably. "Commander T'Pol," Phlox shouted over his shoulder, "we need to transport Mr. Tucker to sickbay immediately." "You do not need to shout, Doctor," T'Pol said softly as she squeezed in beside him. "We are ready." "This is my fault," Trip gasped. His face was a sickly grey and heavily beaded with sweat. "The Cap'n's dead, isn't he?" Keeping one hand firmly on the commander, Phlox raised his medical scanner and ran it quickly up and down Trip's body. The results were deeply disturbing. It was amazing that he was still on his feet. "Tell me!" Trip's eyes were glazed with pain as he looked slowly back and forth from the doctor to T'Pol. "Trip," T'Pol said gently as she laid her hand against his cheek, "Captain Archer is alive. If you come with us to sickbay you can see for yourself." "He's okay?" Trip slurred. When he looked to Phlox for confirmation, it was obvious that he was having difficulty focusing his eyes. "Yes," Phlox confirmed. "He has sustained a rather severe head injury, but he should recover completely." "Sure?" "Yes, Commander. Now if you'll…" Before Phlox could continue Trip's eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed. The doctor still had a hold on his arm, but it was T'Pol who took his weight and lowered him to the deck. She immediately pulled his upper body into her lap and wrapped her arms around him. "He is not breathing," she said as she looked frantically at Phlox. Once again the doctor quickly ran his medical scanner over the commander's body and checked the pulse point in his neck. "He's still breathing, but his respiration is so shallow that it's barely perceptible." Phlox pressed a hypospray to Tucker's neck. "A little cordrazine should help stabilize his vital signs. The doctor rose and motioned to the corpsmen waiting outside the hatch. "T'Pol, you must let us take him now." She looked up at Phlox and, in her eyes, he saw a depth of anguish that tore at his heart. "Let me help him, T'Pol," he said gently. "There is so little time." Reluctantly, T'Pol nodded and slowly loosened her grip on the commander. Phlox immediately motioned the corpsmen forward. As they reached down to lift Tucker's body he cautioned, "Gently now. We don't want to make a bad situation worse." Under the doctor's supervision, the two corpsmen carefully and efficiently removed the commander from the shuttlepod, leaving T'Pol still seated on the deck, her head bowed. As Phlox exited behind the corpsmen, he almost ran into Lieutenant Reed who was waiting anxiously outside the hatch. "Take care of her," he said quietly to Malcolm, "and try to keep her away from sickbay for as long as you can. I'm going to have my hands full with the captain and Commander Tucker." Reed nodded as Phlox hurried out of the launch bay. He hadn't given Malcolm an easy task, but with two men in critical condition, he didn't have the time or the energy to worry about T'Pol, too. * * * * * * "Doctor?" Hoshi called softly as she came to a halt inside the sickbay doors. She removed a carrot stick from the dinner tray she had balanced on her left palm, took a bite and started to chew. "Doctor Phlox?" "I'll be with you in a moment, Ensign," Phlox called through his laboratory screen. The doctor finished filling a hypospray with sonambutril and placed it in his pocket. It had been a long 40 hours since the shuttlepod had been retrieved. At first, he'd been concerned that he might lose both men, but slowly their conditions had stabilized. The captain was doing well. The commander, however, was still critical. Only time would tell. After making a few final notations on his patients' medical records, Phlox walked over to the young ensign. "How did you know that I didn't have time for lunch?" Smiling, Hoshi replied, "You know that Chef keeps close tabs on who eats and who skips meals. Your absence was noted." Phlox gratefully took the tray from her. "A salad, rolls, peach cobbler – a veritable feast." He walked across the room and set the tray down on a counter. "I've been so busy lately that I haven't been paying proper attention to my nutritional needs. Please thank Chef for me." "How is Captain Archer?" Turning around, the doctor saw Hoshi standing beside the biobed, looking down at the captain. "He's responding well," Phlox answered. He made an effort to keep his voice upbeat and positive. "I believe that he will be regaining consciousness soon." Hoshi took a few moments to study the monitor over the biobed then looked back down at the captain. "What could have happened to him? One day everything is fine and then…this." Phlox crossed the room and took up a position beside her. "Only two men know what happened on that planet," he replied soberly, "and neither one of them is in a position to enlighten us. The only thing I can say with any certainty is that whatever caused these injuries was catastrophic." Seemingly against her will, Hoshi slowly raised her eyes and glanced over at the white curtain surrounding the other occupied biobed. "How is Commander Tucker?" she asked quietly. "Lieutenant Reed told me that he was also badly injured." "The commander is stable…for now," Phlox said. "If we hadn't retrieved the shuttlepod when we did," the Doctor hesitated, "well…let's just say that he's lucky to be alive. They both are." Hoshi pressed her lips together and glanced up again at the monitor displaying the captain's vital signs. "I need to get back to the bridge." She turned to face Phlox and smiled weakly. "Take good care of them." "I will, Ensign," Phlox said with a reassuring smile. "And thank you again for delivering my lunch." He watched as Hoshi left sickbay. As soon as the door closed behind her, he checked Archer's vital signs more carefully. Yes, it appeared as though the doctor would not have long to wait for the captain to awaken. The commander, on the other hand, was a different story. Phlox walked over to the other biobed and peeked around the edge of the curtain. Tucker lay motionless on the bed, but he was not alone. T'Pol sat on a chair beside him. Exhausted, she had fallen asleep with her head resting on Trip's left shoulder and one arm draped protectively across his body. Frowning, Phlox pushed the curtain back slightly and took a step forward. This was unwise. The pressure of her arm might aggravate the commander's injuries or, with a move of her hand, she could dislodge his IV. "T'Pol," he murmured softly. When she didn't respond, he reached over to wake her. Before he made contact with her, however, he took a good look at their faces and drew his hand back. For the first time in a long time, they both seemed to be at peace. The doctor couldn't help but smile ruefully. For the past four years, he'd watched as an incredibly complex relationship had slowly developed between the human and the Vulcan. He'd seen their attraction to each other in the early days after Enterprise's launch, even when they'd stood antagonistically toe to toe. In his own way, he had unintentionally furthered their connection by asking T'Pol to use neuropressure to help the commander deal with his insomnia. At the time, it had seemed necessary for the smooth running of the ship, but he should have realized that he was throwing fuel on a smoldering fire. He had hoped that two brilliant, determined people could make a relationship work, but he now realized that fear, grief and insecurity were working against them. Phlox sighed and shook his head. He had never seen two people who were obviously devoted to each other struggle so hard to stay apart. As T'Pol herself would admit, it was not logical. "Phlox." That single word, weakly spoken, ended the doctor's ruminations. He headed quickly for Archer's biobed, but not before closing the curtain, once again ensuring the commanders' privacy. "Ah, Captain," he said brightly, "I see you finally decided to rejoin us. How do you feel?" Archer groggily struggled to sit up, but Phlox put a restraining hand on his shoulder. "Please don't try to rise, Captain." He snuck a peek at the vital signs displayed on the monitor above the bed then looked back down at his patient. "Your injuries are not yet fully healed." "Injuries? What happened?" Archer said as he lay back down and looked around blearily. "You were injured on an away mission. You suffered a hairline skull fracture." Archer raised one hand shakily to his head as he looked bewilderedly at the doctor. "Shouldn't I remember getting hit in the head?" "Not necessarily. Head wounds often bring about memory lapses. What is the last thing you remember?" Phlox asked cheerfully. "Um…well," Archer mumbled as he tried to focus on the recent past, "we were…transporting the Tellarites." Suddenly aware of what he'd said, the captain looked around nervously. "Are they still on board?" Phlox beamed at him like a teacher acknowledging a particularly bright pupil. "No, they disembarked almost a week ago, but you wouldn't remember that because you were not on board." "Not on board? Why not?" It was becoming obvious that the captain was growing restless with this game of twenty questions. "Where was I?" "You visited an uninhabited planet," Phlox coaxed. "A little rest and relaxation under the guise of a survey…just you and …" "Trip," Archer blurted out anxiously as a few sketchy memories began to surface. "Where is he? Is he all right?" His eyes darted around the room, searching for his friend. When they landed on the curtained area of sickbay, he tried to sit up, but the doctor's firm hand held him down. "How bad is it?" Archer asked tremulously. "His internal injuries were life threatening," Phlox said, "but he is holding his own. I am confident that, in time, he will recover completely." "How are you feeling, Captain?" T'Pol asked as she pulled the curtain aside and walked over to Archer's bed. "We have all been quite concerned." "Thank you, T'Pol," Archer said, "but I'll be better when I know what happened to Trip." "Only you and Commander Tucker can answer that," Phlox said as he noticed Archer's struggle to remain conscious, "but perhaps it would be best to explore that at a future time." "No," Archer said fretfully, "I need to remember." "And you will," Phlox answered reassuringly, "but now you need to rest and regain your strength." He produced the hypospray he'd just filled and applied it to the captain's neck. "When you wake up again, things will become clearer." Archer looked beseechingly at T'Pol, but there was nothing she could do to help him, and slowly his eyes slid shut. The doctor looked over at T'Pol. She looked weary to the bone. "You could do with some sleep yourself, Commander." "I have only just awakened." "I was referring to a good night's sleep in a real bed." "I am quite comfortable," T'Pol said as she walked over to her chair beside Tucker's bed. Before she drew the curtain shut she said, "I believe that Lieutenant Reed would also be interested in what the captain has to say." Phlox nodded. "I'll make sure he's here. The sedative I gave the captain should allow him to sleep for about six to eight hours. Grab whatever rest you can." One definitely on the road to recovery and one still with a ways to go – things were definitely looking up. The doctor rubbed his hands together in anticipation. Now it was time for lunch. * * * * * * Phlox's estimate was overly optimistic. It was, in fact, almost ten hours before Lieutenant Reed was called to sickbay. "How are they?" Malcolm queried as he strode purposefully through the door. "The captain is just waking," Phlox said then frowned. "I'm afraid there is no change in Commander Tucker's condition." "The commander is strong," T'Pol said quietly as she walked over to stand next to Archer's bed. "He will survive." Phlox marveled at T'Pol's inner strength. She had made up her mind that Mr. Tucker would live and that was that. She would not contemplate anything less. Malcolm cast a worried look at the doctor, but just then the captain began to stir. "Welcome back, sir," Reed said sincerely as Archer opened his eyes. "You gave us quite a fright." The captain's eyes went immediately to Phlox. "How's Trip?" "His condition is unchanged," the doctor answered softly as he raised the head of Archer's bed. "The blow to your head was quite severe, Captain. Are you in any pain?" "A bit," Archer said as he scrubbed a hand across his eyes. "Quite a bit, I would say." Phlox studied the monitor over Archer's bed before administering an analgesic. Malcolm shifted his weight nervously. "I know you are still unwell, sir, but I have to know what happened on that planet." When Archer didn't answer immediately, T'Pol decided to try and stimulate the captain's memory. "We recovered an extensive amount of data from the shuttlepod. You surveyed the planet for four days, is that correct?" Archer seemed to relax as the pain reliever took hold. "That sounds about right. Trip's assessment of that place was right on the mark. It was a worthless, waterlogged hunk of rock…certainly nothing worth dying for." Archer squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his lips together in a thin line. "Captain, if this is too difficult…," Phlox began. "No, I'm all right." Archer opened his eyes and looked at his friends. "It's the least I can do for Trip. Without him, I doubt that I would be here now." "We know that Trip flew the shuttlepod back to Enterprise," Malcolm said, "but how were you injured? Do you remember what happened?" Archer took a deep breath. "Things are still kind of hazy, but I remember heading for a range of mountains up north. We'd spotted a hot springs on an earlier pass over the area. Since we had plenty of time, we thought we'd check it out. The ground was too rough to land the shuttlepod close to the springs, so we decided to hike in. I think we reached the foot of the mountains. After that, things get a little fuzzy." Archer shifted restlessly and coughed. Phlox held a cup of water to Archer's lips. "Drink this, Captain. It will help." Jon drank slowly. When he'd had enough, he raised his head slightly, signaling Phlox to remove the glass. "I remember the ground shaking," he continued. He knitted his brow in an effort to remember. "I guess it must have been an earthquake. I think Trip shoved me." He shrugged his shoulders slightly. "Then everything went dark." "So when the ground stopped shaking, the two of you made your way back to the shuttlepod," Malcolm reasoned. Archer shook his head then winced. Obviously, the added motion was a bad idea. "I don't think I ever came to. Trip must have carried me out." "I'm sorry, Captain," Phlox said soberly, "but I believe your memory is still playing tricks on you. With a mild concussion, four broken ribs, a hairline fracture of the right scapula and internal injuries, Commander Tucker would have had difficulty walking that distance on his own, let alone attempting to carry another man. You must have regained consciousness." "I don't know." Archer fixed his gaze on Trip. "I remember the ground shaking, and then nothing until I woke up here in sickbay. Unless I've taken up sleep walking, Trip had to have been my ticket out." Phlox could tell that the captain was tiring rapidly. His color still wasn't good, and the anxiety his memories engendered was sapping what little strength he had left. "The entire crew is grateful that you survived your ordeal," T'Pol said quietly. Straightening her shoulders, the solicitous friend was instantly transformed into a Starfleet officer. "We are headed back to Earth, Captain. Do you have any orders?" "No," Archer said weakly. "Just get us home." He turned toward Phlox. "Do what you can for Trip. I owe him." "Of course, Captain," the doctor replied, smiling confidently. "He's getting the best of care. When he regains consciousness, you'll be the first to know. In the mean time, you need to rest." "Fine." Archer closed his eyes as Phlox lowered the bed back to a prone position. "I guess I am kind of tired." "Sleep well, Captain," Malcolm said softly then, after nodding to T'Pol and Phlox, he headed back to the bridge. T'Pol stood looking at Archer for a moment longer before returning to Trip's bedside. When Phlox had assured himself that the captain was indeed asleep, he followed her. He checked the commander's vital signs again and nodded in satisfaction when he noted a slight improvement. T'Pol gently stroked Trip's arm as she stared intently at his face. "Do you think it's possible that he saved the captain's life?" Phlox considered her question then shrugged. "Anything is possible. Is it probable? No. His injuries are too severe. But we both know how stubborn he can be." Phlox smiled when T'Pol looked his way. "Mr. Tucker can work miracles in engineering. Maybe he can work miracles on alien planets as well." CHAPTER 15: TRIP Consciousness returned like a thick velvet curtain rising. Slowly, Trip rocked his head from side to side and flexed the fingers of his right hand. He began to drift back to sleep when a noise disturbed him. Prying his eyes open, he was forced to squint against the brightness of the lights. As he raised his left arm to shade his eyes, he felt a tug. His befogged mind tried to make sense of things as he stared uncomprehendingly at the offending tubing which protruded from his left arm. He heard the scratching sound again. Turning his head, he saw one of Phlox's creatures digging furiously at the floor of its cage. Only then did he realize that he was in sickbay. "Doc," he called hoarsely. Running his tongue over dry lips, he desperately wanted a drink of water. He squeezed his eyes shut, wrinkling his brow, as he tried to force himself to think. Something wasn't right. He shouldn't be alone. He moved again, and his ribs protested. Suddenly, an image flashed in his mind of a barren patch of ground and the body of a man lying motionless. There was blood and hopelessness and fear. His eyes flew open. "Cap'n!" he called frantically as he looked in vain for any sign of his friend. Struggling to rise, he felt the pull of the IV again and, in desperation, he tore it from his arm. His body wouldn't allow him to sit up, so he rolled awkwardly to the right. "Cap'n!" His mind fought to deny the unthinkable. His friend, the man who'd called him brother, wasn't here because he was dead. Jon had died because he was too weak to save him. "Please, no," he whispered. Irrationally, he decided that he couldn't just lie there and do nothing. He had to find the captain and prove to himself that he didn't have his friend's blood on his hands. Groaning, he slowly moved his legs over the side of the bed and pushed his upper body forward until he over balanced and fell gracelessly to the deck. Every nerve in his body screamed in agony as he lay curled on his side, willing himself to keep breathing. A red haze clouded his vision and threatened to drag him under, but he fought against it. Moments later, when the pain became a little more manageable, he moved an arm forward, intent on pulling his battered body across sickbay to the door. "Commander!" While his brain processed the fact that he'd heard another person's voice, two hands gently rolled him onto his back. He tried to focus on the face staring down at him, but his eyes refused to cooperate. Then he felt a warm hand on his forehead, and he knew it was T'Pol. Suddenly he felt something press against his neck, and he knew she wasn't alone. Phlox was with her. He had a feeling that they weren't going to be happy with him. Four hands grabbed him, and he felt himself being lifted up. He cried out in pain as his body protested against the continuing abuse, and for a few precious moments he blacked out. When he came to again, he opened his eyes and saw a shape that didn't look Vulcan bending over him. "Doc?" he whispered. He wanted to say more, but he didn't seem to be able to force the words past his lips. Gradually, with the firm feel of the biobed beneath his back, the world began to slowly drift back into focus. He drew in a sharp breath as the doctor felt along his ribs and up along his right shoulder. Phlox wasn't smiling. When he noticed Trip looking at him the Denobulan said incredulously, "What in the world were you thinking, Commander? Even the simplest creature in my menagerie knows to stay put when it's hurt. Have you even one ounce of common sense?" Trip opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out. What could he say? Turning his head slowly, he saw T'Pol dabbing at a trail of blood on his left arm. "The catheter tip is intact, Doctor," she said tightly. "It didn't break off in his arm." Phlox huffed. "At least that's one thing we can be thankful for." Trip knew they were right to be mad at him, but if he could only explain, maybe they could understand why he did what he did. He tried to swallow, but his mouth was so dry that it did little good. Phlox leaned over and shone a light first in one eye and then the other. "Sorry…so sorry…," Trip muttered incoherently, "Tried…couldn't…" "Be quiet, Mr. Tucker," T'Pol said. "You must conserve your strength." She was never going to forgive him for letting the captain die. He only wanted her to love him, and now that could never be. A ghost would always stand between them. He squeezed his eyes shut and turned away from her. How could he make her understand? "Commander, you have reinjured your shoulder," Phlox said firmly. "Repairing the damage will be painful, so I am going to sedate you." "No, please," Trip mumbled. He pulled his arm from T'Pol's grasp and tried feebly to push the doctor away. "Have to…explain…sorry…don't..." He felt the pressure on his neck and heard the hiss. Before he could say anything more, his world faded into nothingness. CHAPTER 16: PHLOX From his work station in the medical lab, Phlox heard the sickbay doors swish open. Looking up, he saw Captain Archer and his first officer enter and cross the room toward Tucker's bed. Archer only paused for a moment to check on his friend before heading over for a chat with the doctor. T'Pol lingered a little longer, brushing one hand lightly over Trip's brow and down the side of his face. When she had reassured herself that the commander was recuperating, she joined the two men on the far side of the room. Phlox had been expecting this visit ever since he'd released Archer from sickbay. He knew that the captain was eager to talk to his chief engineer. "T'Pol told me what happened earlier," Archer said as he came to a halt in front of the doctor. "Is Trip all right?" His eyes once again sought out his friend. "Mr. Tucker is healing nicely," Phlox replied reassuringly. "I expect him to regain consciousness very soon." "Whatever possessed him to try to get out of bed?" Archer asked bewilderedly. "I gave him credit for more sense than that." Phlox studied the commander for a moment before turning back to the captain. "Of course I can only guess, but I would say that he was trying to find you." "Me?" "Yes. He was very concerned about you. As a matter of fact," Phlox continued, "he refused to leave the shuttlepod until Commander T'Pol and I assured him that you would be all right." Archer raised a trembling hand and began to rub his head. "Hadn't he already done enough?" he said softly. "I wouldn't ask anyone to do what he did for me. I don't deserve that kind of loyalty. I…" Before he could continue the captain wavered, pressing his hand firmly to the side of his head. Instinctively, he reached over and grasped T'Pol's shoulder to steady himself. She, in turn, wrapped her arm around his waist. "Captain," Phlox said solicitously, "you should lie down." "No, I'll be fine. Just give me a minute." The doctor reached into his pocket and produced a hypospray. After adjusting the setting, he pressed it to Archer's neck. "This should help with the pain. Is that better?" "Yeah," Archer said grimacing. "Captain, perhaps the doctor is correct," T'Pol said softly. "You should lie down. Let me help…" Suddenly T'Pol's head spun around, and she stared in disbelief at Tucker. Now undeniably conscious, Trip stared back at her. T'Pol blinked twice then jerked her arm from around Archer's waist. "Ah, Commander," Phlox said hesitantly as he looked from Trip to T'Pol and back again, "it's good of you to join us." Tucker didn't respond. His eyes remained locked on Archer and T'Pol. T'Pol took one tentative step in his direction then, shaking her head almost imperceptibly, she turned and bolted from the room. Obviously confused, the captain watched as T'Pol beat a hasty retreat. "What…" Archer began, but Phlox cut him off. "You gave us quite a scare earlier," Phlox said soothingly as he headed over to the commander's bed. "I trust you intend to stay put this time. Your body is far from healed." Trip seemed to be oblivious to the doctor's words. His gaze was now firmly locked on Archer. Phlox checked the commander's vital signs and then motioned the captain over to the bed. "It's about time you woke up," Archer said softly as he moved forward to stand beside Phlox. "It's good to see you, Trip." "Are you real?" Trip whispered. His eyes, still glazed with pain, looked pleadingly at the captain. "I am. Thanks to you," Archer said quietly. He reached down and clasped Tucker's hand in his. "I don't know what to say, Trip. I always knew you were tough, but for you to ignore your own injuries so that you could get me back to Enterprise…well…that gives ‘tough' a whole new meaning. I owe you my life." "Just returnin' the favor," Tucker said, but instead of smiling he turned his face away. Dismayed, Archer squeezed the commander's hand. "Trip, what's the matter? Please talk to me." After a few moments Tucker whispered, "I thought you were dead. I thought I killed you." "Killed me," Archer blurted incredulously. "I pushed you. You fell and hit your head." "You pushed me out of the way," Archer said, his voice raised in frustration. "Captain," Phlox said softly, "please try to remain calm. He's bound to be confused." Nodding, Archer tilted his head back and took a deep breath. When he looked back down he said, "Trip, look at me." Tucker squeezed his eyes shut and weakly shook his head. "I thought..." "Look at me, Commander," Archer said firmly. "That's an order." Slowly, Trip opened his eyes and turned his head toward the captain. "None of this was your fault," Archer said sincerely. "You tried to warn me that something was wrong. I should have listened to you. As for the dent in my skull, that was my fault, too. I've been doing a lot of thinking…trying to piece together what happened. I remember you pushing me out of the way. There were rocks falling. I don't remember much else. A rock must have clipped me on the side of the head. You saved my life, Trip. I'll never forget that." "I'm glad you're okay," Trip mumbled as he pulled his hand out of Archer's grasp. "I'm kinda tired, Captain. Thanks for stoppin' by." He raised his left arm and covered his eyes, effectively bringing the conversation to an end. Stunned, Archer continued to stare at his friend. Finally taking pity on him, Phlox took the captain's arm and lead him across the room. "Are you sure he's going to be all right?" Archer asked tightly. Phlox sighed. Why was the truth so hard to accept? "Physically, Commander Tucker will recover, but you must remember that he had other problems that have not yet been resolved. That was the reason you went down to that planet in the first place. You must be prepared for the fact that this experience may only make things more difficult for him." Archer rubbed his hand across the back of his neck in frustration. "We were so close. If you could have seen him down on that planet – if you could have heard him – he laughed and joked just like he did before we went into the Expanse. The mischievous gleam in his eye was back. So was his enthusiasm for life." This time it was Archer's turn to sigh. "I thought he was getting better." There was a great sadness in his voice. "You mustn't give up hope, Captain. In cases like this, patients often take two steps forward and one step back. The fact that the commander responded well to your away mission is a good sign. For the moment, however, Mr. Tucker needs to rest, and so do you." "Okay," Archer said wearily, "I can take a hint. I'll go back to my cabin and get some sleep. Maybe Trip will feel more like talking tomorrow. Take good care of him." "I will, Captain," Phlox said sincerely. With Archer on his way back to his quarters, Phlox turned his attention to his other patient. Slowly, he walked over to Tucker's bed and checked the engineer's vital signs. "Can I get you anything, Commander?" he asked. "Are you thirsty? The engineer shook his head. "Are you in pain?" Slowly, Trip lowered his arm and looked into the Denobulan's eyes. "It's not important," he mumbled. "Of course it's important," the doctor huffed as he pulled a hypospray from his pocket and administer an analgesic. When his patient failed to respond, Phlox asked softly, "What are you thinking, Mr. Tucker?" "I'm tryin' real hard not to think," Trip answered. His voice was filled with a hopelessness that Phlox found disturbing. "You must remember that things are not always as they seem," the doctor said reassuringly. "Your friends are devoted to you. You can draw strength from that." "I don't want friends." Taken aback, Phlox answered forcefully, "That's nonsense. You need your friends, now more than ever. And quite frankly, they need you, too. They depend on you." "Don't say that," Trip said hoarsely. "I don't want anyone to depend on me." "You accepted that responsibility when you became a Starfleet officer," Phlox snapped. As soon as he saw a look of abject shame wash over Tucker's face, he realized that he had spoken in haste. He was supposed to be a source of comfort for his charges, not condemnation. "You're right," Trip said numbly. "I was just bein' selfish. It won't happen again." "Mr. Tucker, you misunderstand me…" "I have to quit feelin' sorry for myself and get on with my life." Warily, Phlox searched the young engineer's face. "Things will look better once you've had a chance to rest and recuperate. You should feel proud of your accomplishments, Mr. Tucker. Your record as a Starfleet officer is exemplary." Trip scrubbed a hand over his eyes. "Thanks." "Why don't you try to get some sleep?" Phlox cajoled. "I can sedate you, if you think that would help?" "There's something I have to do first," Tucker said. "I don't…" "I need to contact someone on Earth." "That can wait until tomorrow." "No." Tucker was surprisingly firm considering his weakened condition. "I need to do it now. Please. I need your help." "You may talk to anyone you like, Commander, tomorrow…after you've rested." Phlox folded his arms, letting it be known that he would not be moved. "Okay, you win," Trip responded wearily. He shifted his weight slightly and grimaced. "But I'm countin' on you to keep your word." "I will speak with Ensign Sato. You may contact anyone you like… tomorrow." "In private?" "In private." Phlox produced a hypospray and pressed it against the commander's neck. In spite of himself, he couldn't help but smile. "Goodnight, Mr. Tucker. Try not to worry. You must be patient." "Night, Doc," Trip mumbled. "Don't know what I'd do without ya." As Trip drifted off to sleep, the doctor lowered the lights and headed back to his medical lab. He began to speculate on the recipient of tomorrow's call and found himself hoping that the commander intended to contact his parents. The man desperately needed closure. Making peace with his parents would be a giant step in the right direction. Back to Part 2 Continue to Part 4

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