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Chapter 9
"Try lifting your arm as far as you can, Commander."
"I tried, doc. I can't move it more'n I already did."
"Try," Phlox repeated, and Trip knew that it was pointless to tell the doctor that he had been trying for the last ten minutes.
Gritting his teeth, he slowly raised his arm again, his hand trembling with the effort. Pain pricked at the inside of his skin, piercing the recently mended bone. It was a new experience to actually feel his bone inside his arm. He'd always known it was there, of course, but it had never before become a source of discomfort, or, in fact, any sensation at all.
"A little more." Phlox placed his hand on Trip's forearm. "Try pressing against my hand."
"Doc..."
"Try, Commander."
"I'm gonna put that on my tombstone," Trip muttered, and winced as a sharp stab reminded him why he hated physical therapy so much.
"You are?" Phlox sounded pleased.
"No," Trip managed, drawing a hissing breath through his teeth as the pain intensified. "It's jus' an expression."
"I understand," Phlox nodded, and mercifully loosened his grip. "You may lower your arm now, Commander."
Relieved, Trip allowed his arm to drop onto the mattress, which he immediately regretted. "Ow!"
"I told you to be careful, hmm?" Phlox pursed his lips, frowning down at the display of his hand scanner. "Your injured finger is still quite sensitive to concussions of any kind. But you'll be pleased to know that your arm is healing well. You should soon be able to shave yourself again." Peering over the scanner, he gave Trip one of his uncanny ear-to-ear grins. "Unless you prefer having Mr. Reed do it."
Trip massaged his arm, grimacing at the pins and needles. "What about my legs, doc? I'm not gonna have to... stay in this bed for the next two weeks, am I?"
"Well, you definitely won't be climbing ladders in Engineering any time soon, but your fractures appear to be mending well. Another day, two perhaps, and you may try getting up for a while."
Trip frowned. "You mean, I'll be able to walk?"
"Ah, perhaps I should rephrase that." Phlox went to a storage compartment in the corner of the ICU and opened its sliding door. When Trip saw the bulky object the doctor lifted out, he groaned.
"Doc, I don't think..."
Phlox raised his eyebrows. "It's either that, or waiting until your legs have healed sufficiently for you to try walking."
Trip sighed. He should have known he'd end up in a wheelchair at some point; it seemed hardly avoidable with a useless pair of shattered limbs attached to his lower body. Yet for some reason he'd always pictured himself getting up and walking out of here, using a crutch perhaps, but walking upright, on his own two feet.
"Is there a problem, Commander?" Phlox leaned the folded wheelchair against the wall, and came over to Trip's bed.
Trip shook his head. "Naw. It's just... I'm not sure I wanna be carted around the ship like a..."
"Like a person with two broken legs?"
Trip said nothing. It was not how he had intended to finish his sentence.
"It's your decision," the doctor shrugged. "If you feel your pride would be compromised if you used a transportation aid..."
"It's not that." It came out snappier than intended. "I'll use the damn wheelchair."
Phlox' smile made Trip wonder how often the doctor had been through this with other "mobility-impaired" patients. "I'm sure Mr. Reed would approve of your decision."
"Doc..."
But Phlox had already returned to his handscanner. "It is remarkable, the degree to which she speeds up the cell division, Here," he held the device so that Trip got a good look of the display. What he saw there reminded him of a layer cake with pink cherry filling and white icing. "She", he knew, referred to the osmotic eel that was cozily snuggled against his collarbone.
"It's a sectional view of your skin," Phlox explained. "The burns have damaged the reticular dermis, and the eel is releasing a secretion that interacts with the-"
"I'm sure she's doin' a great job," Trip interrupted. The hunger stirred by the thought of a cherry cake had rapidly disappeared again.
"Indeed," Phlox replied happily, oblivious as always to his patient's discomfort at having an alien crustacean latched to some body part or other. "She's one of the more insatiable members of her species. Her protein synthesis-"
Trip breathed a sigh of relief when the door slid open, cutting the doctor's lecture short. He'd expected Malcolm, who came by every day after his shift. It wasn't the Armory Officer, however, nor was it T'Pol with a new stack of engineering reports. The visitor remained standing in the entrance, one hand on the door frame.
"Captain," Phlox said finally. "Please, come in."
"Doctor." Archer cleared his throat, taking a step into the room. The bulkhead closed behind him, and he threw a quick, uneasy look over his shoulder, as if his escape route had been cut off. Trip said nothing. This, he had not expected.
"Well," Phlox said, gathering up his handscanner, "I shall be next door if you need me. Captain. Commander..."
After the doctor had left, Jon was still lingering near the door, as if he wanted to be anywhere but here, and Trip was tempted to tell him to just go.
"How are you feeling?" Jon asked eventually, when the silence had begun to stretch almost painfully.
The ball was in his court now, Trip knew. His chance to get in some payback, spread the misery a bit. Jon would accept it, he could see that; would take everything Trip threw in his face.
He felt tired all of a sudden. "Why don't you sit down, Cap'n."
Jon hesitated. "I..."
Trip indicated the chair next to his bed. "C'mon."
After a moment, Jon slowly came over and took a seat. "Thanks."
Trip wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry at their stilted, pointless exchange. They'd never been like this. And Jon... he looked terrible, worse even than in the last few days before they'd destroyed the Xindi weapon. His gray-streaked hair was unwashed. Dark crescents stood out under his eyes, and the lines on his face were more prominent than ever.
"You look like shit, Jon," Trip said bluntly. He wasn't going to waste any more time with pleasantries.
A weak grin appeared on Jon's face. "I've had better days. Weeks, I guess."
"Yeah," Trip said, and Jon's grin faded.
"Trip, I'm sorry I haven't been to sickbay."
"Why haven't you?" No pleasantries, and no bullshit either. He'd had enough of both.
Jon said nothing for a long time. Then: "You almost died, Trip."
Trip eyed him, the bowed head, the white-knuckled hands entwined on his lap. Jon had lost weight, he noticed. Five or six pounds, maybe more.
"I thought you were going to die," Jon continued, and finally raised his head. "After your surgery, when Malcolm raked my ass over the coals..."
"Malcolm did what?"
"He didn't tell you?" Jon asked, and Trip shook his head.
"Naw, he didn't say a thing."
Jon sighed. "I've never seen him so angry. He thought I was blaming you for the accident, and told me I'd better "address my own issues of incompetence". Unprofessional and inappropriate also came up somewhere in between."
Trip tried to imagine it. "Malcolm said that to you? Literally?"
"Yes," Jon nodded slowly. "And he was right."
Jon wasn't fishing for reassurance; didn't expect him to disagree or take sides against Malcolm. Trip waited for the Captain to continue.
"T'Pol told me the same, but it took me a while to realize that... that things weren't okay." Jon straightened on his chair. "For what it's worth, Trip, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't come to see you, and I'm sorry for the way I've been treating you. I... I'm not sure what else to say."
That makes two of us, Trip thought. He'd expected some sort of speech, an explanation maybe, but not this. Not an apology that sounded as if Jon had been practising in front of the mirror.
"You don't have to say anything."
It wasn't an offer of conciliation, and Jon didn't take it as one. His posture slumped, shoulders sagging, as if he'd been expecting this.
"Maybe I'd better go," he said quietly, standing up.
"Or maybe you'd better not," Trip snapped. "Maybe you'd better park your ass on that chair and shut the hell up."
Jon did as he'd been told, sitting back down. He avoided Trip's eyes, and maybe that was a good thing. Trip felt as if a floodgate had opened inside him, releasing all the anger and frustration he'd built up over the past days, confined to this room with little else to think about. Not fair, perhaps; it wasn't Jon's fault that he was stuck in here and couldn't even go to the bathroom without Phlox' assistance, or that he would be sitting in a damn wheelchair on his first day up. But fair or not, the words kept coming.
"You're so damn self-righteous, you know that? You always have a perfectly good explanation ready when you fuck up, and no one's gonna say anything, 'cause you somehow make things right in the end, isn't that how it works? But God help them if someone else makes a mistake."
Jon said nothing. He was pale, but seemed determined to hear him out. Trip so wished he could have slapped him, if he'd only been able to lift his damn arm.
"You're above everything, aren't you? And if you decide someone's not worth your time, you drop them like a bag of garbage, don't you? Or throw them in the brig. For some valid reason or other, a'course."
Malcolm had never really talked about his days in confinement, but Trip had heard enough rumors to get a pretty clear picture. And all that had been going on while he was hiding on Columbia, too much of a coward to face the mess he'd left behind.
"Do you know that the MACOs treated Malcolm like shit, after you'd decided that he didn't deserve to be confined to his quarters? I bet you knew. Served him right for havin' a mind of his own, didn't it?"
The rational part of him knew that what Malcolm had done – had felt compelled to do – went beyond "having a mind of his own". Malcolm would have told him so himself, pointing out that the Captain had only followed the rule book. But this wasn't about rules and regulations, and his rational mind could go to hell.
Jon shook his head. "I'm sorry."
"So you've said."
Jon was silent for a while, staring down at his hands. Then, quietly, he said: "I'm going to resign my commission."
Trip stared at him. "What?"
"You said it yourself, Trip, and you won't hear any arguments from me. I'm no longer fit to be Captain, or in any position of command. I've... I've made a mess of things. I can't keep doing this. I'm sorry."
Trip shook his head. "What the hell are you talkin' about? What's happening to you, Jon?"
Abruptly, Jon got up and turned around, facing away from the bed. His hands were clenched to fists, his breathing a harsh rasp. When Trip finally realized what was going on, he felt like he'd been punched in the guts. Jon didn't cry. He never had. He wasn't macho or anything, but tears just weren't on the agenda. And if he did, then no one, including his best buddy... former best buddy... would ever know about it.
"Jon?" he asked cautiously.
The older man wiped his face before he turned around, and his red, watery eyes dispersed any doubts Trip might still have had. Slowly, Jon sat back down, letting out a shaky breath.
"Sorry. I never meant..."
"Stop sayin' that, okay?" Trip eyed him for a moment. "Why can't you tell me what's goin' on?"
Jon sighed. "I talked to Phlox. After T'Pol found me asleep at my desk during shift, and not for the first time either. I can't believe I let things go this far."
"It's depression, isn't it?" Trip asked quietly, not surprised when Jon nodded.
"That's what Phlox said."
"You don't think he's right?"
A tired shrug. "I don't know what to believe, Trip. I'd noticed that I couldn't seem to stay awake, that I was having a hard time keeping myself in check. But whatever it is, it's no excuse for the way I've been treating you, or the crew."
Trip shook his head. "You can't just pack up and go, Jon."
Jon refused to meet his eyes. "Trip, Phlox has relieved me of duty. T'Pol's in command. I hope Starfleet decides to keep her. Enterprise would be best off under her, but-"
"Enterprise would be best off under you ," Trip interrupted, hardly noticing that he'd raised his voice. "T'Pol's a great commander, and I'm sure she'll have her own ship one day, but this ship needs you, not her."
"I'm relieved of duty, Trip." His tone was flat, as if none of this had anything to do with him. "Phlox is starting me on some sort of meds... don't know what they're called..."
"Then go and find out," Trip said sharply. "Ask Phlox if they'll help you get back on track. Ask him how long it's gonna take. You gotta get a grip on things, Jon. This isn't you."
Something flickered in Jon's eyes at that, and Trip was glad to see it. Anything was better than that dull lifelessness.
"That's the point, isn't it? I'm not myself, and I can't just "get a grip on things". Don't you think I've tried? All it accomplished was endangering Enterprise. She needs a Captain, not someone who can't even get out of bed in a crisis."
Trip nodded. "Then make sure you're up to the job. It's gonna take a while, granted, and I know that kinda thing doesn't go away over night. But you can't just leave."
Sighing, Jon shook his head. "I'm sorry."
Trip was silent for a while. "You haven't answered my question."
"What do you mean?"
Trip waited until Jon had looked up before he continued. "You didn't tell me why you never came to sickbay. Or what the fuck I'd done to make you hate me."
Jon flinched. "I don't hate you, Trip."
"Well, you've been doin' a pretty good imitation of it," Trip said, his anger welling up again. "Ever since the Expanse, you've been actin' as if you can't stand being in the same room with me. I just wanna know why."
"I..." Jon closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Trip."
"Yeah. You know, say that one more time and I'm gonna kick your ass. And yes, I know I've got two broken legs and can't - fuckin' - move!" He'd leaned forward as he yelled the last three words, and suddenly became aware of a sharp stinging just below his collarbone. Trip glanced down at himself and recoiled, except that he couldn't really back away from the awful sight. He had completely forgotten about the osmotic eel. The small animal had curled itself into a perfectly round little ball, its skin breaking out in bright orange dots, and worst of all, it seemed to be trying to dig deeper into Trip's skin, seeking protection from the noisy danger that had declared itself.
"What the- ow! What's happening? Fuck!"
"Don't move!" Jon ordered, and his firm tone penetrated Trip's growing panic, making him hold still long enough so that Jon could get a grip on the eel. Another stab of pain, and the eel was wriggling in Jon's hand, trying to curl in on itself.
"I'd better-" Jon began, but was interrupted when the door opened and Phlox came in.
"Is there a problem, Captain, Commander?"
As an answer, Jon held out the orange-spotted eel.
"Oh dear," Phlox said, taking the small animal from the Captain. He cupped it in his palm, gently stroking its bumpy skin with his index finger, until one by one, the orange marks began to disappear.
"There, there," the doctor's fingers traced each of the eel's tentacles, which unfurled under his touch. "Did something frighten you, young lady?"
The eel seemed disinclined to answer, and Phlox directed his questioning look at Trip. "Commander?"
Trip blushed. "Yeah, well, I guess I kinda... raised my voice."
"I thought I'd heard something," Phlox replied mildly. He grasped the eel between two fingers and returned it to its former spot under Trip's collarbone. The animal stayed perfectly still for a second, then slowly spread its tentacles, seeking a hold on Trip's skin.
"Try not to shout or make any sudden movements," the doctor advised. "She's rather easily scared."
"I noticed," Trip muttered, still embarrassed. Critters with more than four legs – or tentacles – fell under the category of Bugs, and Trip didn't like Bugs. He never had.
"If you'll excuse me," Phlox said. Trip didn't miss the short, taxing glance at Jon and him, and wondered if the doctor had set the whole thing up. Maybe he had. The Denobulan was a lot sneakier than most people thought.
The door closed behind the doctor, and Trip turned back to Jon, who was wiping his hand on his uniform.
"Slimy little sucker, isn't it," Trip said, a grin emerging on his face. All of it, the angry eel, Jon's ill-concealed expression of disgust, his own panic, seemed strangely funny all of a sudden. "Maybe it's tryin' to tell me something."
"Well, it's definitely telling you not to shout while it's sucking at your neck," Jon said.
Trip winced. "Don't put it that way."
"What way?"
"Suckin' at my neck. Sounds as if it's tryin' to give me a hickey."
"Maybe she is."
Their eyes met, and they both grinned. Trip knew that neither of them was going to say it out loud; that wasn't what they did, and it wouldn't have felt natural. But something had changed just now, and it wasn't only that they shared a joke for the first time in ages.
"It wasn't anything you did," Jon said after a while.
"What d'you mean?"
"The reason why I was being such a bastard to you. It was just that... you always reminded me of the way things had been. You were still getting along with the crew, having movie night... I couldn't do any of that. I couldn't go back to who I was before."
"You think it was that easy for me? That I had a good cry over Lizzy's death and then got on with life? Jon..."
The Captain sighed. "I know it wasn't like that. We all went through hell, and I know you had it worse than most..."
Trip shook his head. "I'm not the only one who lost someone close. Crewman Barry's parents were killed, Ensign Hank's brother..." He trailed off. Lizzy wasn't one of many, he'd realized that long ago; she was his sister. Yet at the same time, she was one of many, and listing the crew's losses reminded him painfully of how he'd shut everyone out after her death, how he'd tried to push away his grief, and had ended up pushing away his friends.
"I know," Jon said quietly. "But I didn't care, you see? All I could think of... was that goddamn weapon."
Trip looked at him. "It was you who got us through the whole mess. Of course you cared."
"No!" For the first time, Jon raised his voice. "I didn't care, Trip. That's it, I just didn't care, period. I wanted the weapon destroyed, but I kept telling myself that the mission was all I could think about. I couldn't... think about the people who'd died, or myself, or even the crew. I couldn't handle it. But you... you could. You still cared. And I guess I was just... jealous."
"Jealous," Trip repeated, shaking his head. Jealous of what?
"And now..." Jon briefly closed his eyes. "I keep looking at myself and wondering what the hell I'm doing here. I can't do my job anymore, and... that's really all I've got, isn't it?"
"You've got friends," Trip said quietly.
Jon gave him a startled look. "Trip..."
"You think I was the perfect officer and gentleman, back in the Expanse? Malcolm and T'Pol could tell you a different story, but they won't, 'cause they're too damn forgiving for their own good. I guess we've all our share of forgiving to do."
He didn't miss the change in Jon's expression when he mentioned T'Pol... a brief flicker of hurt, of a kind Trip was only too familiar with. He understood, or thought he did.
"An' for the record, Jon, that... thing between me and T'Pol, it didn't work out. I was draggin' her down, tryin' to turn her into something she wasn't..."
"She was the one who started taking the Trellium-D," Jon quietly pointed out.
Trip nodded. "That was part of it. She wasn't really herself, you know? We were both at a low point, and jumped into something without really knowing what we were lettin' ourselves in for. I'm not what she needs, and... T'Pol's a great person, but I don't think we would've been, you know, happy together."
There was more to it, things he was going to tell Jon at some point, but not now. This was neither the time nor the place.
Jon nodded slowly. "Thanks for telling me, Trip." He paused. "Mind if I stay for a while?"
"Make yourself at home," Trip said immediately. "Phlox hasn't admitted you though, has he?"
The question was only halfway out when he wished he could take it back. Jon merely shook his head in response.
"No, I'm fine to stay in my quarters, but... I figured I could use the company."
The anxious look was back, and Trip smiled.
"Me too," was all he said.
TBC...
Final chapter soon to come up! Please let me know what you think!
