Title: The Selfless
Author: Padawan Jess Kenobi
Disclaimer: I wish Trip was mine, but he's not, sadly. Nothing belongs to me!
Note: I haven't seen too many Enterprise episodes, so I may be a little off in some things. Place this wherever you feel it goes best episode-wise.
Summary: Trip wakes up in the sickbay, and learns about the accident that put him there. Malcolm and Trip friendship fic :)
"How are you feeling, Commander?"
The disembodied voice seemed to float to Charles Tucker's ears from a great distance away, and he struggled to hold on to the words.
Trip's eyelashes fluttered open, and he blinked groggily a few times to adjust his eyes to the foreign brightness of the room he was in. He could tell immediately that he was in the sickbay, just by the way the lights made him sleepy. He could barely make out the blurry form of Lieutenant Malcolm Reed as his eyes slowly began to focus.
"M'okay," he croaked, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth.
"You've been unconscious for three days, and the best you can say is 'm'okay'?" Reed asked, mimicking Trip's pleasant southern accent. "I must admit I'm a bit disappointed Mr. Tucker. I expected something a little more… colorful." Malcolm smiled slightly, hoping the banter would help Trip focus quicker.
As he hoped, the hint of a familiar smile played across Trip's lips, and he arched an eyebrow at his friend. "Well if we're bein' honest, I feel like I've been kicked in the ass by an entire fleet of Romulan war vessels. Now if you're done with your charming British pleasantries, I'd really love to know what the hell is goin' on."
"That's a little more like it, sir," Malcolm said with a grin, the relief evident in his voice.
Trip tried to sit up to see his friend better, but was stopped by something stiff on his chest that restricted his movement. He tried to move again, and this time was hit by a surge of pain so powerful that it caused his world to go black, and a slight groan to escape his lips.
Malcolm was immediately at his side, and he put a supportive hand behind Trip's back, easing him back down onto the bed slowly. "Don't do that, you idiot," he hissed, his voice holding equal parts admonition and concern.
Trip bit his lip until the pain subsided into a tolerable throbbing, and then glared at Malcolm through hazy blue eyes. "Well that would have been nice to know before I tried."
"And you would have listened?" Malcolm challenged, raising his eyebrows to give Trip the classic sarcastic-Malcolm look.
Trip opened his mouth to quickly retort, but then closed it again as he knew he had lost that one. "I might'a…" he answered, trailing off slightly with a lack of conviction.
They were silent for a moment as Trip tried to control his breathing as his senses started returning to him, as did the pain. His chest pulsated mercilessly, as did almost every other part of his body. What the hell did he get himself into this time?
"Why am I in sickbay? Why do I always end up in sickbay? I swear I spend half my time in here," Trip grunted.
"I'm glad you've woken up, sir," Malcolm said quietly, all traces of humor gone from his voice.
Despite the pain, Trip smiled at his friend. He knew how hard emotional admissions could be for the usually militarily-conducted Brit, and the simple words conveyed his relief movingly. Trip blinked again in an attempt to bring his world into better view, and he suddenly could see Malcolm's face without too much blurriness. The Tactical Officer's face was lined with weariness, and it looked as though he hadn't had a good night's sleep in days.
As if reading Trip's mind, Malcolm spoke again. "We were worried about you… the Captain hasn't slept since the accident."
Trip raised an eyebrow as if to silently ask if the Captain wasn't the only once that hadn't slept since then, but he decided to let it go. "Well that's mighty touchin'," Trip grunted as he tried to shift position slightly, only to have it cause him more pain.
Malcolm caught the engineer's wince, and his worried gaze raked over Trip's injured body. "You seem to be in a lot of pain, Commander, maybe I should call Dr. Phlox over," he said, and then started to move away from the bed.
"No!" Trip gasped. "He'll either shoot me up with more drugs like a heroin addict, or attach some of his pet leeches to my skin, or-"
"Or if those two options don't suit you, Commander Tucker, I could always offer you a mild sedative." Dr. Phlox appeared suddenly next to Trip's bed, his trademark pleasant expression on his face.
Malcolm stifled an amused snort at the surprised look on Trip's face, and nodded respectfully at the Doctor.
"I- I don't think that'll be necessary, Doc," Trip stuttered quickly, without grace. "I'm feeling better already!" he exclaimed, though it was ridiculously clear that he was lying through his teeth.
"That seems to be questionable, Commander, but I supposed I can leave the decision up to you, as long as you do not exacerbate your wounds further. I'd suggest keeping still as much as possible."
Trip looked down at himself, noting the heavy bandages covering his chest, left leg, and the sling that held his right arm firmly into place. "Shouldn't be too much of a problem, Doc," he muttered darkly.
Dr. Phlox smiled at him good-naturedly. "I should alert the Captain that you are awake," he said. "That is, if you are feeling well enough for another visitor."
"Sounds good," Trip responded, though his voice was muffled slightly as he clenched his teeth suddenly in defense of a sudden stab of pain through his leg. The Doctor nodded and went to contact the Captain.
"So you gonna tell me why I'm here, Malcolm?" Trip asked after a few more moments of silence. "Cause I'd really love to know."
Malcolm paused for a moment and clenched his jaw tightly. "You don't remember anything?" he asked in puzzlement.
Trip's head hurt and his mind swam dizzily as he tried to concentrate. He focused on keeping the blurriness at bay, and his words from slurring. "Not much. Just a lotta light… and heat… an explosion? In Engineering?" his eyes widened suddenly as part of his memory came rushing back, along with the screaming of terror, and the blinding flashes of light. Worry shone in his eyes as he forgot about his injuries for a second and tried to get up suddenly to rush to his station again.
This time Malcolm had anticipated his friend's intentions, and had already put his hand on Trip's non-bandaged shoulder to gently, but firmly, push him back down. He tactfully pretended not to notice the pained expression that flitted across the blonde man's face.
"It's alright, Commander, the explosion was three days ago, and your team has been working nonstop to fix the problem."
Trip seemed to relax slightly at this, and nodded slightly. "Anyone injured?" he asked, worry creeping into his voice again.
"No one but you," Malcolm answered wryly, though he felt no mirth.
Trip seemed to find that funny though, made a choking sound that Malcolm estimated was the equivalent to a laugh. "Well we all saw that one coming, I'm sure. Trouble seems to just love me," he joked good-naturedly, though Malcolm didn't smile back.
"Only if you put yourself in its way," the Lieutenant muttered seriously.
Trip's head swam dizzily again, and the Officer's British accent sounded almost hilarious in his mind. "Oh don't be so serious, Malcolm," he scolded.
Before Malcolm could tell his friend off, the sickbay doors hissed open to reveal a slightly unkempt looking Jonathon Archer. He quickly walked over to where Malcolm stood over Trip's bed, barely pausing to nod at his Armory Officer's respectful greeting, or to notice how Malcolm suddenly straightened militarily.
Archer looked anxiously down at his friend, and struggled to keep his face neutral in response to what he saw. Trip's muscular chest was bandaged stiffly with thick white bandages to reset the four broken ribs he had sustained. His arm and shoulder were securely wrapped in a sling, while one of his legs was encased in a cast. Trip's handsome face was marred by a cut that ran from the corner of his left eye down to his jaw, though it was evident that that was already beginning to heal. There were various burn marks on his body as well, though those would heal quickly as well. He had also had a severe concussion, though the bruises on his head had faded considerably.
"How do I look, Cap'n?" Trip asked, a hint of a sparkle in his eye.
Archer knew his friend well enough to know that Trip was hiding his pain, and using humor to try to shield it from him and Malcolm. "I can't say I like this look on you, Trip," he answered, barely able to muster any humor into his voice.
Trip's eyes were serious again, and Malcolm was once again surprised by this man's sudden and unpredictable mood changes. "Everything ok, Cap'n? You're looking pretty rough yourself."
Archer smiled sadly, and shook his head. "Typical Trip, asking how I'm doing when you're laying in a sickbay bed."
"Well I just noticed that you and Malcolm are looking rather beat, but I didn't want to say it to him directly. He's the sensitive type," he added with a crooked smile. It faded again though, when Trip realized that Archer still hadn't cracked a smile. "K, Cap'n, enough small-talk. What happened in engineerin' that put me here?"
Archer clutched his hand into a fist, and put it down by his side. "You don't remember, Trip? You don't remember disobeying a direct order from me?" He shook his head as if he could physically remove the memories of that day from his mind.
Trip looked up at him in such confusion that Archer knew he truly did not remember. "Can't say I do, Cap'n. I'm really hopin' I had a good reason, whatever it was, though."
Archer sighed, and for the first time, allowed his worry to show visibly on his face. Trip was startled at the sudden dropping of the Captain's emotional shield, and all the anxiousness on his face. "I thought we'd lost you, Trip."
Trip looked over to where Malcolm stood stiffly and silently next to the Captain, but Trip could see the emotion on his usually stoic face too. Trip felt uncomfortable at the heavy silence that hung around them all, and their worry was taxing his throbbing head. "I must be the clumsiest Chief Engineer in the entire fleet," he said, his tone half-joking, but also self- recriminatory. If he was the only one to get hurt, he must have created the explosion by some mistake in his repairs.
Malcolm seemed to catch on to Trip's thought process a second quicker than the Captain, and he spoke up suddenly. "It's quite the opposite, Commander," he said quietly.
Trip looked up at Archer and Malcolm, the expression on his face clearly confused and asking for an explanation. Archer sighed, and placed his hands on the bed absent-mindedly. "We were hit by enemy vessel fire that day. You commed me and reported that the engineering room was taking heavy damage, and that the situation was unstable. I told you to evacuate your crew, as they would do us no good if they all died. I heard you yell the orders to your team, and I heard the screams of terror in the background, along with the sound of explosions."
Archer paused, the lines on his face more prominent. "Malcolm's team was close to the engineering room, so I told him to help with the evacuation of your team." Archer looked over to Reed suddenly, and nodded, silently handing the reigns of the story over to him.
Malcolm stepped forward slightly, a tense expression on his face highlighting his stormy gray eyes. "Indeed I arrived just as the last of your team exited the premises, and I was assisting in the headcount, and sealing off the area when I heard a scream from the engineering room." He paused upon seeing the look of recognition on Trip's face.
Indeed the Commander suddenly remembered everything, his hazy mind taking him back to that moment in an almost painfully clear way. Malcolm continued to recount the story, but his voice was just a buzzing in the background, for Trip didn't need to be told anymore.
"Is everyone out?" Captain Archer's voice buzzed over the communicator, sounding strained even through all the noise.
Trip had been about to answer affirmative when he heard a scream from a ways behind him, and then a burst of light and sparks.
"One of my team is still in there, Cap'n! I gotta get them!" Trip shouted in despair as he shielded his eyes against the glare.
"Lieutenant Reed, how is the safety of that room?" Archer asked tersely.
"Bad, Sir, it is extremely unstable. The reactors should stop exploding within a few minutes, but until then, it should be kept empty," he answered as calmly as possible, despite the panic of the people around him.
"Did you hear me, Cap'n? One of my men is in there still!" Trip yelled, as he searched the area with his eyes. There. He saw one of his men on the floor under a fallen beam, not moving much.
"Stay out of there, Commander, that's an order!" Archer shouted as the ship lurched under the enemy fire that assaulted her hull.
"I'm sorry Cap'n, but I can't follow that order!" Trip shouted back, and he took off suddenly towards the explosions and beams of blinding light.
"Commander!" Malcolm yelled, reaching to grab Trip and pull him back, but the man was too quick for him. Trip sprinted towards his fallen crew member, and knelt down next to him. "Wake up Reynolds," he muttered, ducking suddenly as sparks flew above both their heads. He heard the whirring sound of the reactor next to him, and subconsciously knew what was about to happen in just a few seconds.
Trip grunted as he pulled the beam off the man, and pulled him up to his feet. Reynolds groaned, but managed to open his eyes slightly. Trip took the man's arm and slung it around his own shoulder, and then grabbed his crew member's waist in a supportive grip. "I got ya," Trip muttered in what he hoped sounded like a confident tone of voice.
Reynolds seemed to be gaining consciousness quicker now, and he even managed to hold up part of his own weight. Trip took a tentative step with him, but Reynolds stumbled, almost bringing both of them down. Trip doggedly regained his balance and was about to take another step when the reactor whirred again, and he acted without thinking. He flung Reynolds ahead of him and into relative safety, but the effort had caused Trip to lose his balance. Trip barely had enough time to cover his head when a flash of light temporarily blinded him, and he was thrown against the wall by an explosion. The last thing he registered was the sound of screaming, and then pain- lots of it.
Trip's eyes were hazy as the memory rushed painfully back at him. "Reynolds?" he asked hoarsely.
"Mild concussion, but otherwise uninjured. Thanks to you, Trip," Archer said seriously.
"Yes, he was fine; you managed to move him into a place that the explosions didn't reach. You, however, were not looking too good when we found you," Malcolm said, his voice sounding more clipped than usual. "I was afraid to move you, but there was no other alternative in the present circumstance."
"I'm sorry to have put you in danger, Malcolm," Trip said seriously, lowering his eyes in shame.
Malcolm sputtered slightly in surprise at Trip's statement. "It isn't about that, Commander, I assure you."
"You were pretty banged up," Archer supplied, though his words sounded almost foolish even to himself.
Trip closed his eyes, trying to force his skittish mind to take in all the memories and sounds his brain was suddenly providing him. "Wouldn't be a day in my life if I wasn't, Jon," he tried to joke.
Archer opened his mouth to say something in response when his communicator beeped suddenly. "Archer here," he responded quickly.
"I apologize for interrupting your visit with Commander Tucker, Captain, but your presence is required on deck." T'Pol's flat voice rang out from the little machine.
"Understood, I'm on my way," Archer responded, his tone of voice uncharacteristically non-committed. He was about to turn off the communicator when T'Pol's voice came out again unexpectedly.
"I expect that the Commander is doing better?" she asked, emotionless as usual, but just the fact that she had asked spoke of the closest to 'concern' that a Vulcan could reach.
Trip grinned at this, and almost laughed if not for the pain in his chest. "Never better, thanks for asking," he piped up loudly.
There was a pause on the other end of Archer's comm., and then a deadpan answer. "It would be illogical to imply that your present state is reflective of you at your best."
The three men blinked, and Trip rolled his eyes. Archer laughed then, the first time he had in days. "Sorry, but I got to go, Trip. I'll be back again soon." He touched the younger man's shoulder gently, almost fatherly. "You start getting better soon, do you hear me? You trained your crew well, but they could do with a bit of Trip-discipline," he said with a smile.
"You bet they could," Trip said, a smirk on his face.
When Archer left, Trip suddenly felt drained, and he closed his eyes for a couple seconds. Malcolm caught on to his friend's exhausted state immediately.
"You should get some rest, Commander, you've had quite the day," he said.
Trip kept his eyes closed, but sighed slightly. "Haven't I told you a thousand times, Malcolm?"
"Told me what?" Malcolm asked in confusion.
"That my first name isn't Commander, its Trip," Trip answered, struggling to open his eyes again.
Malcolm huffed, and his face took on a slightly mischievous look. "Well to be fair, your first name is actually Charles, so it is neither…"
Trip rolled his eyes languidly, but couldn't help the grin from spreading over his face, even as he felt his muscles slowly shut down. "You always were a stickler for details, Malcolm."
"Aye, it's what makes me such a good Tactical Officer I presume," Malcolm answered with a similar grin.
"And a good friend," Trip responded seriously. "Thanks for getting me out of there, Malcolm."
More memories had crept up on Trip suddenly, and he had remembered the way he had tried to grasp onto consciousness after the explosion. He felt rather than remembered how Malcolm's strong hands had scooped him up like a child after he was thrown against the wall and grappling for consciousness, and how he had carried him to safety.
"Well I couldn't bloody well leave you there, you know. It would have been drastically unprofessional," Malcolm said lightly, though he was obviously uncomfortable with Trip's sudden remembrance of that fact.
Malcolm could easily remember, and still feel, the terror he had felt upon seeing Trip caught in the explosion, and then slung into the wall like a rag doll. His first thought was that the Commander surely must be dead, but he was surprised to see Trip's chest move slightly. He had paused a moment to gauge the stability of the malfunctioning reactor, but all explosions seemed to have stopped with the last one. Malcolm had rushed forward and knelt by Trip's limp body, and had checked immediately for vital signs. They were there, very faint, but there. He knew that Trip most likely had some internal injuries and should not be moved, but he did not trust the reactor and knew that he had to get the Commander out of there in case it blew again.
He had tried to move Trip as gently as possible, but it was getting neither of them anywhere. Cursing under his breath, Malcolm had picked the younger man up in his arms as sturdily as he could, and held him tightly to his chest. He had hurried out of that room as calmly as possible and had started towards sickbay, with Trip still in his arms. He was mercifully met barely a minute later by Phlox's medical team, and they had taken the broken Commander from Malcolm and placed him on a stretcher to cart him away quickly. Malcolm had wanted to follow them to make sure that Trip was going to recover, but he knew he had other duties, and had regretfully turned on his heel and back to the hell that was the engineering room.
Malcolm dragged himself from his memories, and looked down at his exhausted and injured friend. Trip had been in a nearly critical condition for almost three days, and it was only this morning that Dr. Phlox had been able to assure him that Trip was going to recover. The last three days had been hell for Malcolm, and he knew that they were as well for Captain Archer, and many others of the crew. Trip was a natural charmer, and he had many friends aboard the ship that cared deeply for him. Not to mention crewman Reynolds, who was beside himself with gratitude and guilt for what Trip had done for him.
Dr. Phlox at Malcolm's side again, as he seemed to sense that his patient was getting drowsy. "Crewman Reynolds requested to see you, Commander, but I told him that you required rest and that now was not a good time. He sounded most relieved when he learned that you were conscious," Phlox said, a pleasant smile on his face.
"Well that's a relief," Trip answered groggily. "That guy is going to owe me a lot of breakfasts in bed," he added, a smile tugging at his lips.
Dr. Phlox gave Malcolm a pointed look that clearly communicated that it was time for Trip to get some rest. Malcolm nodded in agreement, turning to look at his friend again.
"Get some sleep, Commander," he said softly.
Trip didn't answer him, but muttered something under his breath.
"Commander?" Malcolm asked, leaning in closer to hear what it was that Trip had said.
"For the love of God, Malcolm, it's Trip," he said as he started to lose his fight with consciousness.
"I told you before that that's a bloody ridiculous nickname," Malcolm quipped lightly, his gray eyes sparkling with humor.
Trip smiled crookedly at his friend's words, and drifted into sleep.
Malcolm shook his head, and grabbed a blanket from the compartment next to him. He spread it out across his friend's still form, and then smiled down at the sleeping man. "Rest well, Trip," he whispered.