THE THORN AND THE ROSE

CHAPTER 1: MALCOLM

Lieutenant Malcolm Reed could point to the exact moment Commander Charles "Trip" Tucker III disappeared. Although no one realized it at the time, in retrospect the event stood out like a beacon in the night.

Malcolm raised the speed of the treadmill to keep pace with his whirring thoughts. Luckily he had the gym to himself tonight so he didn't have to worry about being interrupted. He could be alone with the memories of the friend who had convinced him that, although being an introvert wasn't a sin, it wasn't a great deal of fun either. He chuckled softly as he recalled their close encounter with an automated repair station and their failed attempt to pick up alien babes on Risa, but the chuckle quickly became a sigh. What a waste.

There was no denying that Commander Tucker was a changed man. Professionally he was still the same – brilliant, dedicated, driven – but personally, that was a different story. In days past, when Trip Tucker entered a room the place lit up like a star gone nova. People were drawn to him because he radiated energy, compassion and a joyous fascination with the wonders of life. Sadly that vital man had vanished, replaced by a phantom that could slip into and out of a room without being noticed. Within the space of a few short months, he had become a hollow shell of a man, running desperately from something he couldn't see or understand, and Enterprise was a colder, drabber place because of it.

Malcolm's legs pumped furiously; sweat beaded his brow. The one overriding thought in his mind was that he wanted his enthusiastic, effervescent friend back again. He knew that he would do just about anything to ease Trip's pain and help him find his way out of the darkness. He just didn't know how to accomplish that feat. Apparently no one else did, either.

Thinking back, Malcolm knew that some people might point to the death of the baby created by the terrorists running Terra Prime as the day the wheels came off Trip's cart, metaphorically speaking, but they'd be wrong. He knew the truth. He'd been there.

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Reed knew that the death of their baby had hit both Trip and T'Pol very hard. Not blessed with strong paternal instincts himself, Malcolm still couldn't fully comprehend how the two commanders had bonded so quickly with their child. Here was a being they hadn't conceived, hadn't even been aware of until a few days earlier, but she was theirs and their devotion to her was immediate and unshakeable. One look at Trip's face and there could be no doubt in anyone's mind that he loved his little girl from the first moment he set eyes on her.

Reed remembered the tense atmosphere in the shuttlepod as they left Mars. T'Pol had held the infant close, checking her biosigns periodically and relaying the information to Phlox who waited impatiently on Enterprise. Trip's eyes never left his child. He sat quietly, fingers kneading his pant legs, as though he had to fight the urge to reach out and enfold her in a protective embrace.

The child whimpered only once on the ride back. Leaning forward, Trip whispered softly, "Everything's gonna be all right, sweetheart. Daddy's here." Then, reaching out to stroke his daughter's head, he exchanged a worried look with T'Pol.

That was the last time Malcolm saw the whole family together.

Archer had insisted that Trip and T'Pol take some time off after the death of their child, and for once in his life Trip didn't put up a fight. Commander Kelby had recently been reassigned, so with Trip out of commission, it fell to Lieutenant Hess to manage the day to day business of running the engineering department.

On the day Trip returned to duty, Malcolm journeyed to engineering to discuss his plans for making some necessary upgrades to the phase cannons.

When he entered engineering, Trip was working with a young ensign to recalibrate the injectors. Instead of making his presence known, Reed decided to take a few moments to study his friend. He quietly positioned himself so that he could see the chief engineer's face, but remain out of his line of sight. A frown wrinkled Malcolm's brow as he planted his feet and folded his arms across his chest. Trip definitely looked thinner, and his face was rather pale and drawn. The past weeks had obviously not been easy for him. Reed was just about to speculate on his friend's mental well-being when Trip turned his way. As soon as he saw Malcolm, Trip's eyes lit up and a huge smile sliced across his face.

"Mornin', Lieutenant," Trip said cheerfully. "Just give me a moment." He turned back to the injectors and gave his full attention to the young engineer who was assisting him. First, he gestured to the right and then to the left with the small flashlight he held in his hand. When he was finished, he clapped the ensign on the back and headed toward Reed.

"You aren't here to give me trouble on my first day back are ya, Malcolm?" he asked, grinning widely.

"As a matter of fact I am," Reed said, finding it impossible not to smile in return. "You've been shamelessly ignoring my pleas to upgrade the phase cannons for months now. I intend to remedy that situation, even if it means using a well-aimed phase pistol to ensure your complete and total attention."

"That kind of persuasion's hard to refuse, Lieutenant," Trip said, chuckling softly. "Any man willing to assault his superior officer to get a few minutes of his time deserves to be heard." With that, much to Malcolm's surprise, Trip threw his arm around Reed's shoulders and headed him toward the chief engineer's office.

As usual, they battled cheerfully over the upgrades until a workable plan began to emerge. Tucker promised to run some simulations later in the day and pass along the results as soon as possible.

Once Reed knew that his phase cannons would be properly cared for, his thoughts turned to the basic necessities of life. "I'm hungry. How about a late lunch?"

Trip grinned. "Sounds great, Malcolm." He started to get up from his chair when a padd on the far side of his desk caught his eye. "Damn," he muttered, reaching for the padd. "Just give me a minute to put the finishing touches on this duty roster," he called to Reed, who was halfway out the door, "and I'll be right with ya."

Malcolm waved a hand in recognition and headed out into engineering. While he waited Reed wandered about checking readouts, looking at schematics displayed on monitors, and peering over the shoulders of nervous crewmen as they completed their diagnostics. He was just giving Ensign Kelly a quick nod when he heard Tucker call for Hess.

"Here, sir," Hess hollered from atop the warp engine. As she scrambled down, Malcolm decided to stroll over and see what was going on.

"Anna," Trip said, "I know you've been busy, but it's kinda tough to make out a duty roster if I don't know who's available."

Hess looked slightly confused. "I'm afraid I don't understand, sir. All the information is up-to-date, just like always."

Trip jabbed a finger at the padd he clutched in his left hand. "I can't find Ensign Masaro's name on here anywhere. He's not on the available for duty list. He's not posted for sick leave. What…," Trip stopped abruptly, a look of confusion on his face. His head swiveled back and forth between Reed and Hess. "What's the matter?"

As a stunned look passed between the two lieutenants, Malcolm slowly raised a hand and scrubbed it nervously across his eyes. No, no, no, he thought in consternation. This shouldn't be happening.

"Lieutenant Reed," he heard Hess whisper beseechingly.

When he lowered his hand, Malcolm saw that Hess was staring at him, a sick expression on her face. She clearly wanted to be somewhere else.

Somehow in the hubbub surrounding the conference and the memorial service for the baby, apparently nobody had bothered to tell Trip about Ensign Masaro, Judas in Starfleet blue. Bloody hell! Malcolm swore to himself. Guess whom fate had once again selected to be the bearer of bad tidings.

"Is someone gonna tell me what's going on?" Trip demanded. "Where's Masaro? Is he in the brig? Did he get himself transferred to another ship? Is he…"

"He's dead, Trip," Reed interjected quietly. "He died while you and T'Pol were down on Mars."

"Dead?" Trip stood with his arms crossed over his chest, looking incredulously from Hess to Reed. "How come nobody bothered to tell me? What happened?"

Reed took a moment to compose himself then continued, "Ensign Masaro committed suicide."

Trip tilted his head as though he was trying to figure out some deep philosophical puzzle. "Why would he do that?" he queried. "Johnny was a nice kid. He showed a lot of potential as an engineer. We had a talk about his future a couple of months ago. He sure didn't seem suicidal to me."

Malcolm took a deep breath, held it and exhaled. Why was life never simple? "Ensign Masaro was the traitor."

Reed could tell by the blank look on Trip's face that he was still in the dark.

"Masaro was the crewman who gave your DNA and T'Pol's to Terra Prime."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Reed saw the color drain from Trip's face. The engineer's grip loosened, and the padd he was holding slipped from his fingers. Instinctively, Hess reached out to steady him, but Tucker didn't waver. He just stood riveted to the spot, staring blindly ahead.

Reed had seen the same dazed expression only once before when his childhood friend, Trevor Fitzgibbons, had been struck squarely between the eyes by a soccer ball. Trevor had keeled over and dropped like a rock. Deep down Malcolm almost wished that Trip, too, could find solace in oblivion.

"It's all right, Lieutenant," Reed said softly to Hess. "I'll take care of him."

Not needing a second invitation Hess muttered, "I'm sorry, sir," then turned and bolted.

Finally, Reed draped his left arm across the commander's shoulders. The two friends stood quietly side by side as Malcolm squeezed and rubbed Trip's shoulder in a rather awkward attempt at consolation.

Soon Malcolm noticed the subtle and not so subtle stares from many of the engineering staff. He realized that he needed to find someplace private where his friend could begin to recover. "Come on, Trip," he whispered. When he got no response he tried again. "Come on, Trip, let's go get something to eat."

Slowly Tucker's head swiveled toward Malcolm, but his eyes still seemed unfocused.

"You remember, Trip…lunch…the mess hall. It will do you good to get something to eat."

Food had always been Tucker's friend, but that seemed no longer to be the case. Trip shook his head and then numbly pulled away from Malcolm. "You…" He stopped and shakily ran his tongue over his lips. "You'd better go on without me, Malcolm. I'm not very hungry."

Reed was becoming more concerned by the minute. Trip was still deathly pale, and he had to clutch his hands together to keep them from trembling. "Maybe we should call Doctor Phlox," Malcolm suggested quietly.

"No, I'm fine," Tucker stated reassuringly. "The news about Johnny…Ensign Masaro just took me by surprise." He tried to stand a little straighter, but Malcolm wasn't fooled. Finally, Trip looked away. "I thought I knew him. It never occurred to me that he would be capable of something like that. He was…" Clearing his throat, Trip fought for control. "I never questioned his loyalty to Enterprise or to me. I guess I was wrong." His words ended in a whisper.

"Trip…" Reed knew that his friend needed help, but Tucker remained adamant.

"I'm fine, Malcolm. Really." Trip tried to smile, but it was a half-hearted effort at best. "You go on and get something to eat. I'll catch up with you later. I have to get back to work. Okay?"

"All right, Trip. But try to eat something."

What else could he say? Every ounce of common sense told Reed to send for Phlox, but perhaps one breach of faith was all Trip could handle in a single day. As he watched his friend slowly walk away, Malcolm felt completely helpless. He vowed to try to talk to Trip later in the day, but from that point on nothing seemed to work. Every effort at support and understanding failed miserably.

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Malcolm stopped the treadmill and grabbed a towel. He wiped the sweat from his face and then tossed the towel toward a nearby hamper. He smirked as the towel hit the rim and dropped into the container. "Yes," he muttered smugly beneath his breath. He was, and always would be, a very competitive man.

Invigorated physically, yet still strangely restless and uneasy in spirit, Reed climbed off the treadmill. He knew he had to get some sleep, but he just wasn't ready to settle down. Maybe a quick trip to the mess hall for a cup of hot tea and some biscuits would help him to relax.

As he walked down the corridor, Malcolm thought about his friend and the changes that day almost two months ago had wrought. From the moment Trip learned about Masaro, everything changed: his temperament, his mode of living, and his relationships with other members of the crew. In the course of daily events, Malcolm knew that people still called his friend Trip, and he still answered to Trip. But he really wasn't Trip. Not anymore.

TBC