Disclaimer: I do not own Enterprise or any of its characters

Author's note: Though this is – technically – a sequel to 'Life Support' and 'Mirror, Mirror,' you can read this without reading the other two. They will – however – give you a little bit of background on Toby and Kaci (who is not in this chapter, but will be appearing), and their relationship to Trip (no… it's not that kind of relationship…either one of them). Those of you who have read the other two will notice some stylistic changes: I now have Toby speaking directly, instead of in brackets. However, this is because she is gaining practice at being dead – and there are sections from her point of view, and I wanted to be able to delineate her thoughts from her speech.

A/N 2: The timeline of this is after the third season… so it has to be an alternate universe… and yes, I do know I have two different eye colour descriptions for Toby.

Revelations

Chapter 1: Apocalypse

"Whether I go, or whether I stay, right now depends on, whatever you say…"

– Martina McBride

"I wanna know where my confidence went, one day it all disappeared…"

– Blue Rodeo

Personal Log: Charles Tucker III

Sometimes I wonder if there are such things as curses, and whether or not I'm under one. This past year has brought to light things that have destroyed the underpinnings of everything I have ever believed in. I've learned some disturbing things about myself and my family… or maybe it's just things I've always known but have never been willing to acknowledge. This is a hell of a way to spend your birthday… wondering how sane you really are… but some things aren't giving me a choice. Sometimes reality is just a pain in the ass.

"Oh. One of the fundamental secrets of the universe… something that mankind has been trying to figure out since he first burned himself on a hot spark and imagined a god – Sorry, God… didn't mean it like that – you have been given proof, that there really is something beyond the mortal body… some sort of consciousness that endures… and it's just a 'pain in the ass.'" The red-headed dead girl chewed on a non-corporeal nail and sulked. Just who did he think he was, anyway? "Pain in the ass." She felt no qualms about listening to a supposedly private journal… after all, she and Trip shared everything. Toys, clothing, deepest dark fears… hell, even the measles. There were probably still doctors trying to figure that one out: how two otherwise healthy children contracted a disease they'd supposedly been inoculated against. But now…

"'Go away, Toby'" she mocked. "'You're in the way, Toby.' 'You're complicating my life, Toby…' why don't you just say 'I wish you were dead, Toby.' and be done with it? I'm not the one who brought me here… I'm not the one with all the angsty 'I'll never forgive myself,' type problems…" It was just… "You're my best friend. I mean, we're kindred souls of a type only seen in the rarest of circumstances. But oh, no… just because you've met some chickie girl that you seem to think you're supposed to fall in love with… suddenly I'm the one that's gotta go. Well remember what happened last time you did that? Huh? That's when I ended up never getting past the age of fifteen." It wasn't like this T'Pol chick was right for him, anyway. Toby could tell just by the way he got so unsure of himself every time he was around her.

"Inadequacy issues are not a good foundation for a healthy relationship." And this chick did do that to him… oh, everybody else thought it was just wonderful… two intelligent good-looking people hooking up, but Toby knew better. T'Pol wasn't only Vulcan-level smart… "which still isn't up to my level, of course…" She had this aura about her that commanded respect… and Trip tended to be very sensitive to those kinds of things.

"And to think I almost had you broken of that habit." Everybody around here thought that Trip was a rebel… but he wasn't – not deep, deep down in his soul. There he was still just a scared little boy, afraid of getting in trouble, afraid to disappoint. No matter how much he denied it, he wanted everybody to like him – wanted everybody to be his friend.

There was that other thing, too. Chickie-babe is really bad for him there. Of course he'd never see it, never admit it. And if Toby told him the awful truth… he wouldn't exactly trust me as much. She chewed her nail a little more, then made a decision.

Trip lay flat on the floor while T'Pol straddled his back, digging strong fingers into his shoulders.

"I'm bored." Toby noted with satisfaction the sudden flinch at her appearance.

"Is there a problem?" T'Pol sounded almost concerned, like she might be worried about hurting him or something.

"Just a pain. I ignore it, and it'll go away."

"That rarely works," T'Pol released him. "Perhaps we should finish this some other…"

"Trust me." Toby caught the deep irritation in Trip's tone. "Ignoring it's the only thing that works." The look in his eyes echoed the tone of his voice.

"Fine, then. I'm gone." She glared back at him.

"Good." He closed his eyes and turned away.

"No, Trip. For good. You don't want me around… I'm gone. 'S the way it works, buddy… though I guess that's not the case anymore." She couldn't keep the sound of crying out of her voice – but I don't think I've ever had a life as a Vulcan.

"Enjoy yourself." He murmured it like he didn't believe her… or maybe he really did want her out of his life.

"Fuck you." After all these years… you'd think, being dead, it wouldn't hurt this much. She turned away and pulled in on herself, then was gone.

!!!!!

"Is it just me or did…" No… it wasn't warmer in here, tendrils of ice wrapped around his spine instead. "T…" he stopped himself just in time, before T'Pol could think he was crazy. But maybe I am. "T'Pol… what exactly are you working on?" He prayed that she'd tell him it was some sort of emotional release spot or something… anything to explain the sudden depression, the emptiness that suddenly crashed into him.

"I am merely releasing some tension from your muscles… why?"

He took a deep, shaky breath. "Oh, no. Oh, no, no, nonono. We better stop, now… there's something I want to check on."

"Trip?" He could hear the puzzlement in her voice, but didn't have time to explain. She stood up and he scrambled to his feet and grabbed his shirt. "I hope I haven't done something stupid… I'm sorry… I gotta go." He ran for the door, feeling the panic rise. Not again… I didn't mean it… I didn't mean… He raced down the corridor to his own quarters, fuming impatiently as the door took its microseconds to open.

"Toby?" He felt tears begin to roll down his cheeks. "Toby, I didn't mean it like that…" Bad enough to lose Elizabeth… but this one is my fault. It always is. She'd followed through, though… emptiness wasn't the word… he was alone. He caught sight of something on the floor, and his knees gave way completely. "I'm sorry, Toby… that isn't how I meant it." He crawled forward, ignoring the pain as shards of glass from the shattered picture frame dug into his palms. He reached forward with shaking fingers to touch the picture itself – now shredded almost beyond recognition. Here and there he identified a bit of blond hair, or a flash of red – one small fragment contained an almost entire purple iris, staring out at him accusingly now.

He raked together what he could, and sat down to try to piece it back together. Wasn't there an ancient superstition about that? That a picture contained a piece of the subject's soul? Maybe if he could piece this back together he could fix it… wasn't that an engineer's job? Fixing things?

The com rang, but he ignored it. He had all the pieces now… he just had to get them in the right places… get them to fit… he fought down the shivers and kept going… it would just take some time. He set up a magnifying glass and pulled out a pair of microtweezers, and began to sort out the glass from fragments of picture.

The door hissed open behind him, but he didn't look up. He almost had a face here now… freckles and a pug nose… a green eye taking shape…

"Trip?" Jon's voice, but it might as well be background.

You're not my best friend, no matter what I might have said. I've only got one best friend… I've got to get her back… I have to fix…

"Trip… you were due on the bridge two hours ago. I've been comming you… Trip?" He could sense Jon looming over him, but didn't acknowledge his captain's presence.

"What are you doing… what happened to your hands? How long have you been sitting here?"

Not long enough… he didn't have it together yet. "I gotta fix this." He felt a slight pressure on his wrists as Jon lifted his hands away from the desk.

"Trip. It's a picture. And you're hurt."

"I gotta fix this." He struck out blindly, connected with flesh. The captain let him go and he set back to work, squinting to match a tiny set of ragged edges.

"I'm calling Phlox."

"Whatever." Not a good answer to give a commanding officer… but some things were more important than a career. Hot tears cascaded down his cheeks again. How could he explain… this was insanity, yet it was truth. Elizabeth and I were close… but even Baby Sister didn't share my soul like Toby. And I didn't make Elizabeth go away… I didn't kill her twice. He glanced up and caught his reflection in the desk console. An unfamiliar shade stared back – not even half a person.

Even the better part of me is gone… not from this, but ever since… ever since Sim, he'd lost that edge… that nasty, driving force. My other self. The side of him that took care of him… that made him take care of himself.

The door hissed open again.

"He's burning up." It had to be Phlox, then – why detail a sickness to anyone other than a doctor? Looking down, he saw why Archer noticed a fever – plain as day and twice as recognisable. Little red spots decorated his skin, multiplying as he watched, but if they itched, he didn't feel them.

But who'm I supposed to give it to now? He couldn't keep crying like this – the tears were getting in the way of his work. He'd just about put a piece of one of his eyes in with hers – no way she deserved an ignominy like that. He tried to block out the noises behind him; they were distracting him. He heard a single word: 'violent,' then managed to fade it out completely. If I ignore it, it'll go away… friends always go away when you ignore them…and I'm not a good person to be having friends anyway. He didn't deserve friends… just look at what he did to them. Someone I owe my life to… someone who'd sacrifice anything for me… who gave me the life I've got to start with… how could I do that to her? If it weren't for Toby, he wouldn't be here – he would never have considered Starfleet, would never have come out of his shell enough to do anything. I'd be an anonymous clerk somewhere… or probably be dead. All those times he'd come so close to killing himself, and who had stepped in to stop him? He had a feeling she wouldn't now, though… and why should she? He didn't deserve to live – but he didn't deserve the privilege of being dead either. I have no right to follow her. He felt something cold press against his neck, heard a slight hiss, then nothing more.

!!!!!

"I can't explain it, Captain." Phlox repeated his scans for the third time, unable to find any errors, and forced to accept the impossible.

"What is it?" Trip looked horrible – pale underneath a near blanket of red pustules. I don't think I've ever seen him this bad. Even when things had been bad enough to justify Sim – Archer still didn't regret that… Trip was worth it – he'd never looked so frail.

"Measles. This should be impossible… because my information shows that Commander Tucker's inoculations are up to date... and he appears to have had it once before, which confers immunity. Not only that, but this appears to be a strange mutation in the virus: it's highly virulent but non-contagious. I'd still like to place him in quarantine… it could mutate again after all, and we don't want an epidemic. I also need to study this virus further to work on a vaccine. It would be helpful to know how he contracted it in the first place… how did you say he injured himself?"

"There was glass on the floor of his quarters." Jon stared at his friend's hands and the small cuts that covered them. "I think it was from the picture frame… he needed to fix that picture, Doctor. He was obsessive about it."

"I noticed." Phlox fussed over his patient, drawing some blood and adjusting the blanket. "Do you know what it was a picture of?"

Jon shook his head. "I couldn't tell. I don't know all of the pictures he had… I don't think it was the one of Elizabeth… no, I remember seeing that one." He sighed and played distractedly with the curtain surrounding the biobed. "For such an outgoing, friendly guy he kept a lot of himself private." He smiled, sadly. "I didn't even know if Elizabeth was older or younger than him… not until after she died. I knew he had a sister… but nothing more than that. And we'd known each other for ten years. It could have been a picture of anything – his nephew, maybe. As for how it got destroyed…" Maybe Trip shredded it in a fit of rage at something – but why? And how had he done such a thorough job? "I mean, you saw it, Phlox… it was practically confetti. And the way he went on about it…" No, if Trip had been that intent on destroying something, he'd never be that obsessed with putting it back together. If he's that thorough, he means to do it. But who would sneak into his quarters to destroy a picture? Surely not T'Pol… even with her occasional slips into emotion, Archer couldn't imagine her becoming that jealous or vindictive over anything. Someone else then? Someone who didn't like the budding relationship between the First Officer and the Chief Engineer, and who decided to make their feelings known? It wouldn't be the first time someone like Trip had picked up a stalker – but it seemed hard to imagine someone on this ship being that obsessed and unstable. Aside from Trip, that is. And Trip's obsessions were never with people… not in any kind of sexual sense. Obsessed with helping people, maybe, but never with the people themselves.

"Perhaps you could obtain some samples of the glass for me, Captain. It's possible that the contagion originated there, and permeated his bloodstream through the cuts. Usually there's a longer incubation period… but, like I said, this strain is extremely virulent. So be exceedingly cautious, Captain."

"I will." The last thing he needed was to join Trip in quarantine. According to the monitors, the Southerner hung close to death – he barely breathed at all and his brainwaves functioned only at minimal levels. Just enough to qualify you as alive, and nothing else.

He turned to leave when every alarm on the bed sounded. Trip's heart raced out of control, and the brainscan jumped and danced manically.

"Trip!" This couldn't be good…

"He's in a coma state, Captain… it's to be expected. Often when a patient is in such a condition the brain functions much like an extended REM state. Essentially, Commander Tucker is having a very intense dream."

Jon stared down at his best friend, as Trip's face flinched and twitched. "I wonder what he's dreaming about."