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Chapter 8

Trip and Malcolm waited stubbornly in the corridor outside of Sickbay. The doctor had ordered them out while he examined Hoshi, demanding privacy. It took a direct order from Jon to budge them though. Under the Captain's stern glance, they went just outside the doors, leaving only Phlox and T'Pol with Hoshi. To everyone's surprise, she had asked for T'Pol. They were even more surprised when T'Pol agreed without hesitation.

The three men paced, each thinking up reasons for why this was his fault.

'What in the hell's wrong with me? Fightin' in front of her, yellin' at her like that. God, let her be ok, I'll step aside, I'll do whatever it takes…she's out here cuz of me, preachin' to her about adventure. Didn't even stop to think before I opened my idiot mouth…if anything happens to her, it's my fault."

'I'm a blasted fool. I come between my two closest friends on this ship—it's not as though I have so many to spare. All because I can't control myself. Regardless of how I feel, I should have put her well-being first…dammit, this is all my fault.'

'I'm her Captain and I'm the reason she's on Enterprise in the first place. I should have noticed something was wrong. This is my fault completely. Well…maybe not completely. What the hell were those idiots thinking?'

Dropping against the wall, Jon watched his pacing officers. Heart-on-his-sleeve Trip versus still-waters-run-deep Malcolm. And both of them crazy about Hoshi, he realized. 'What a mess.' Thank God the Duonians were so fascinated with human culture—T'Pol reported that they were delighted by the display of human mating rituals. Jon muttered under his breath. At the rate they were going, it would be a wonder if any race didn't consider humans insane by the end of this voyage.

He closed his eyes, remembering the last few hours.

Close enough to the doors to hear when Hoshi screamed, Jon and Travis had moved as one to the edge of the terrace, and down the steps. The Duonians fanned out onto the terrace behind them. As Jon's feet hit the sand, he saw Hoshi weave and fall. Travis cried out, and Jon rushed to her side. He reached her in time to see her eyes flutter and close.

Travis's shout halted the altercation instantaneously. Both officers, covered in blue-green sand, scampered over to Jon and Hoshi. Seeing the astonishment on their faces, Jon had an absurd urge to laugh, a hysterical reaction to the disaster that this night had become.

Hoshi's eyes flickered open. She looked around at the worried faces hovering over her. "Trip!" she gasped, and sat up fast. Trip reached for her, saying "I'm here, baby. What…?"

When she saw that he was sitting there, fine except for a little dirt, she burst into tears. Trip jerked his hand back guiltily. Hoshi noticed Jon, and sobbed, "Captain, I am so sorry…" She continued to talk, but she was crying so hard that Jon couldn't understand her. He looked at the other men for help; clearly, they couldn't understand her any better than him. He gathered Hoshi against his chest and stood, addressing the men.

"Travis, go to T'Pol and ask her to make our excuses; we're returning to Enterprise. Meet us at the shuttlepod as soon as you can." Travis nodded and jogged away.

"You men," when Jon faced Trip and Malcolm, his eyes were dark, "follow me. Not a word," he said menacingly before either could respond. "Trust me. You want me to cool down before we discuss this incident." He stalked away with Hoshi, speaking to her in a low voice. The sound of her crying drifted out behind him.

Now, back on Enterprise, they waited to hear what was going on. Jon opened his eyes, watching the officers, both still wearing their sand-covered dress uniforms. Regardless of what happened to Hoshi, there was no doubt he would have to take disciplinary action with Malcolm and Trip. Thanks to the Duonian reaction, he could skip formal reprimands. But he was still pissed.

'Oh yeah. I'm thinking cleaning supplies and double shifts for a long, long time.'

The Sickbay door opened and Dr. Phlox appeared. Trip and Malcolm rushed him, with Archer on their heels. The doctor allowed them inside, but stopped them before they could reach the curtain that concealed Hoshi and T'Pol.

"Gentlemen," he began, holding up a hand to restrain the eager officers.

"What's goin' on, doc?" Trip interrupted worriedly.

"Well, Commander, if you will allow me a moment, I will gladly tell you," the doctor said. He turned to address the Captain. "Ensign Sato is suffering from a condition that affects many species, including the Denobulans—I believe you humans call it 'post traumatic stress disorder'. No doubt a result of her experience with the Obeexans.'"

"Of course," Malcolm said to himself, "why didn't I see it before?" All of the men had witnessed variations of the disorder in their careers. And they had completely overlooked it in Hoshi.

"And how is she now?" the Captain asked.

"I gave her a sedative—she very much needed rest. It seems she's been getting by on almost no sleep for weeks. It's a common problem with this disorder; nightmares frequently interrupt normal sleep patterns."

Malcolm and Trip cast side-glances at each other.

Archer shifted. "Doctor, what can you do to help Hoshi? Making sure she gets better is our priority—but I also need to know, will this affect her future on Enterprise?" He asked the question that was on all of their minds.

"I can't make any guarantees, of course. It is primarily a psychological disorder, and much of the recovery depends on the patient. However, the Ensign is a very determined young woman, and I do have certain treatments at my disposal." Trip and Malcolm both shuddered; the doctor's more creative cures were infamous, and they had suffered more than their share of them.

"Furthermore, Subcommander T'Pol has already done much to calm the Ensign. She intends to continue teaching Ensign Sato Vulcan meditation techniques, which should have a significant affect on her recovery. I see no reason why the Ensign should not continue at her post, after a bit of time off for rest." Trip's shoulders relaxed and Archer sighed in relief. "If she so chooses," Phlox finished, driving tension back into all of them.

"Can we see her?" Malcolm asked.

"Tomorrow, perhaps. When she feels ready."