Chapter 6-
"Mr. Tucker," Jon was saying, "I don't think you were a bad father..."
"No?" Charles Tucker the Second sat next to his wife in their home on Earth. "Then what exactly do you think, Jon...Captain?"
"I think you were a little too hard on Trip." Jon pointedly replied.
"Jonathan," Mrs. Tucker said softly, her eyes rimmed with red. "You only heard from our son's side. You haven't heard ours, yet." She dabbed her eyes with a hanky.
"No, ma'am." Jon agreed. "But I know Trip and he doesn't lie."
"Not lie," Trip's mom corrected. "But he does exaggerate. He always has."
"Then, are you telling me that he has no cause to be so distraught over what his father's feelings toward him might be?" Jon had no intentions of backing down.
"Trip was always hard on himself to a point where he created friction when there needn't have been any." Mrs. Tucker looked at her husband. "He's so much like his father that way."
"I never said I was ashamed of my son, ever." Mr. Tucker stressed.
"But did you ever tell him you weren't?" Jon asked.
Mr. Tucker hung his head and took a deep breath. Mrs. Tucker held onto his arm tightly and sniffed back tears.
"You said it was an accident." Mr. Tucker finally said. "Not his fault."
"No, sir." Jon told him. "It was a freak accident. Trip deserves every bit of the chief engineer rank he carries."
"I wasn't implying..." Mr. Tucker trailed off.
"Is he in pain?" Mrs. Tucker asked.
"Not really," Jon told her. "He's past most of that now."
"But the blindness is his fault." Mr. Tucker pointed out.
Jon shook his head and held in his anger. He knew this man before him was full of pride. He just wished it spilled over for his son.
"The blame is divided, don't you think, sir?" Jon shot back, regretting it instantly.
"May we talk to him?" Mrs. Tucker meekly asked.
"I was hoping Mr. Tucker would. Really talk to him. Maybe like he should've years ago." Jon held back anymore assault on the elder Charles Tucker.
"I had my reasons for the way I raised Trip, Jonathan." Mr. Tucker's face softened. "It was the only way I knew how. He needed to stand up to his fears..."
"Sir," Jon interrupted. "With all due respect; I think you should be telling this to your son."
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The hum of the engine lulled him, like a mother's heartbeat to her restless baby. He was laying curled up on his side, with his knees drawn up to his chest. He was on his own bed, in his own quarters. Not alone, but he might as well have been since he saw only blackness.
Trip heard Malcolm shift in the chair at the desk. He could hear the tapping of the lieutenant's fingers on the computer terminal working away dutifully on reports or whatever. Ever diligent Malcolm continued to work despite being assigned to watch after the blindman.
Malcolm paused and turned to look over at Trip who's back was to him. Perhaps he had finally fallen asleep. Trip had been silent for the last half hour, since the angry outburst had ceased. When he had cursed himself with every expletive in the English language, and even a few in Klingon he'd picked up, Trip had pounded his fist into the mattress. When that didn't quell his anger, silence came and with it a few tears.
The chime signaled and Malcolm opened the door to the waiting Phlox. The doctor entered and nodded toward the bed. Reed just shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. Phlox walked to the bed and sat down.
"You awake, Commander?" Phlox asked. There was no response and no movement, so the doctor pulled out his scanner and ran it over Tucker. "Will you lie on your back for me?"
"Maybe he is asleep." Malcolm told the doctor.
"He's not. Just doesn't want to be poked by me, I'm sure." Phlox said, sympathetically. "C'Taan said there would be pain and some stiffness in your hands. Is it bothersome?"
"He gave the mattress a pretty sound pummeling earlier," Malcolm offered.
"Really?" Phlox mused. "Well, let's have a look."
The doctor reached around and took hold of Tucker's hands, bringing them up and causing him to turn over and lie on his back.
Trip could feel twinges of pain in his hands as Phlox slowly flexed the palms, curling his fingers. He let out a little groan and turned his head away.
"Want something for the pain?" Phlox asked.
Trip silently pulled away and tried to turn over on his side, but Phlox took hold of his hands again.
"No you don't," Phlox told him. He continued to slowly massage Trip's hands and fingers, watching the man's face for any reaction. There was an occasional deep breath that sounded more like annoyance rather than discomfort. But other than that, nothing.
The door slid open and Archer stepped inside. Reed nodded reverently to the captain, who returned the gesture.
Phlox looked up and gently placed Trip's hands on his chest and got up to let the captain move in.
"Trip," Jon said, reaching the bed and leaning down. "Your parents want to talk to you."
There was no response or movement from Trip. He stared blankly up at the ceiling. Archer shared a concerned look with the doctor and Reed.
"Come on," Jon said, taking hold of Trip's shoulders and lifting him up into a sitting position.
Trip didn't bother to resist and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He knew the confrontation with his father was inevitable given the circumstances. He felt Jon sit down beside him.
"Malcolm," Jon looked towards the bathroom. "Would you get me a comb or brush? Wet it a little, too?"
"Yes, sir." Malcolm said, as he moved off.
"Captain," Phlox quietly spoke up. "Would you like me to stay?"
"Naw," Archer replied. "I think we'll be okay. Thanks."
Phlox exited the room leaving Trip and Archer sitting on the bed. Malcolm came out of the bathroom with the comb and handed it to the captain.
"Great," Jon said, touching the comb to Trip's hair.
Trip flinched at the light pressure on top of his head. It continued, gentle strokes combing down his hair. He had to admit to himself that it felt good, comforting.
"There." Jon marveled.
"I'll be getting back to the bridge, sir." Reed said, turning to leave.
"I'm sorry," Trip's strained voice said.
Both Archer and Reed were stunned at the sound. They both looked over at their friend.
"Trip?" Jon prompted.
"Earlier," Trip told Malcolm. "Sorry ya had to see it."
Archer looked puzzled, but let Reed take it from there.
"No apology necessary," Malcolm assured Trip. "If I were in your place I'd have probably broken everything in this room that wasn't bolted down. I'll come by later."
After Malcolm left, Jon started to get up but was stopped by Trip's hand on his arm.
"Not yet," Trip said, obviously becoming emotional.
"It'll be okay, Trip." Jon promised his friend. "I've already told them about your...accident."
Trip sighed and leaned forward, placing his head in his hands. "I can't."
"Yes you can," Jon encouraged. "You know as well as I do that you're as tough as they come. There isn't any danger you wouldn't face down if this ship or any one of us were in jeopardy."
"But I can't face my own father." Trip said, fighting back the lump that enflamed the back of his throat.
"Trip," Jon tried now. "I think you just better hear him out. You may be surprised."
Archer got up and went to the comm. "Hoshi, put the Tuckers' through to Trip's quarters."
"Aye, sir." Hoshi's voice said.
Jon helped Trip up and guided him over to sit down in the chair at his desk. Trip's hands were trembling and Jon placed his own hand on his best friend's shoulder for moral support. The screen changed and the Tuckers' appeared on the screen.
"Hello, son." Mr. Tucker spoke up.
Trip's body tensed, but Jon squeezed his grip on his shoulder. Trip took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders.
"Hi, Daddy."
TO BE CONTINUED
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"Mr. Tucker," Jon was saying, "I don't think you were a bad father..."
"No?" Charles Tucker the Second sat next to his wife in their home on Earth. "Then what exactly do you think, Jon...Captain?"
"I think you were a little too hard on Trip." Jon pointedly replied.
"Jonathan," Mrs. Tucker said softly, her eyes rimmed with red. "You only heard from our son's side. You haven't heard ours, yet." She dabbed her eyes with a hanky.
"No, ma'am." Jon agreed. "But I know Trip and he doesn't lie."
"Not lie," Trip's mom corrected. "But he does exaggerate. He always has."
"Then, are you telling me that he has no cause to be so distraught over what his father's feelings toward him might be?" Jon had no intentions of backing down.
"Trip was always hard on himself to a point where he created friction when there needn't have been any." Mrs. Tucker looked at her husband. "He's so much like his father that way."
"I never said I was ashamed of my son, ever." Mr. Tucker stressed.
"But did you ever tell him you weren't?" Jon asked.
Mr. Tucker hung his head and took a deep breath. Mrs. Tucker held onto his arm tightly and sniffed back tears.
"You said it was an accident." Mr. Tucker finally said. "Not his fault."
"No, sir." Jon told him. "It was a freak accident. Trip deserves every bit of the chief engineer rank he carries."
"I wasn't implying..." Mr. Tucker trailed off.
"Is he in pain?" Mrs. Tucker asked.
"Not really," Jon told her. "He's past most of that now."
"But the blindness is his fault." Mr. Tucker pointed out.
Jon shook his head and held in his anger. He knew this man before him was full of pride. He just wished it spilled over for his son.
"The blame is divided, don't you think, sir?" Jon shot back, regretting it instantly.
"May we talk to him?" Mrs. Tucker meekly asked.
"I was hoping Mr. Tucker would. Really talk to him. Maybe like he should've years ago." Jon held back anymore assault on the elder Charles Tucker.
"I had my reasons for the way I raised Trip, Jonathan." Mr. Tucker's face softened. "It was the only way I knew how. He needed to stand up to his fears..."
"Sir," Jon interrupted. "With all due respect; I think you should be telling this to your son."
----------
The hum of the engine lulled him, like a mother's heartbeat to her restless baby. He was laying curled up on his side, with his knees drawn up to his chest. He was on his own bed, in his own quarters. Not alone, but he might as well have been since he saw only blackness.
Trip heard Malcolm shift in the chair at the desk. He could hear the tapping of the lieutenant's fingers on the computer terminal working away dutifully on reports or whatever. Ever diligent Malcolm continued to work despite being assigned to watch after the blindman.
Malcolm paused and turned to look over at Trip who's back was to him. Perhaps he had finally fallen asleep. Trip had been silent for the last half hour, since the angry outburst had ceased. When he had cursed himself with every expletive in the English language, and even a few in Klingon he'd picked up, Trip had pounded his fist into the mattress. When that didn't quell his anger, silence came and with it a few tears.
The chime signaled and Malcolm opened the door to the waiting Phlox. The doctor entered and nodded toward the bed. Reed just shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. Phlox walked to the bed and sat down.
"You awake, Commander?" Phlox asked. There was no response and no movement, so the doctor pulled out his scanner and ran it over Tucker. "Will you lie on your back for me?"
"Maybe he is asleep." Malcolm told the doctor.
"He's not. Just doesn't want to be poked by me, I'm sure." Phlox said, sympathetically. "C'Taan said there would be pain and some stiffness in your hands. Is it bothersome?"
"He gave the mattress a pretty sound pummeling earlier," Malcolm offered.
"Really?" Phlox mused. "Well, let's have a look."
The doctor reached around and took hold of Tucker's hands, bringing them up and causing him to turn over and lie on his back.
Trip could feel twinges of pain in his hands as Phlox slowly flexed the palms, curling his fingers. He let out a little groan and turned his head away.
"Want something for the pain?" Phlox asked.
Trip silently pulled away and tried to turn over on his side, but Phlox took hold of his hands again.
"No you don't," Phlox told him. He continued to slowly massage Trip's hands and fingers, watching the man's face for any reaction. There was an occasional deep breath that sounded more like annoyance rather than discomfort. But other than that, nothing.
The door slid open and Archer stepped inside. Reed nodded reverently to the captain, who returned the gesture.
Phlox looked up and gently placed Trip's hands on his chest and got up to let the captain move in.
"Trip," Jon said, reaching the bed and leaning down. "Your parents want to talk to you."
There was no response or movement from Trip. He stared blankly up at the ceiling. Archer shared a concerned look with the doctor and Reed.
"Come on," Jon said, taking hold of Trip's shoulders and lifting him up into a sitting position.
Trip didn't bother to resist and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He knew the confrontation with his father was inevitable given the circumstances. He felt Jon sit down beside him.
"Malcolm," Jon looked towards the bathroom. "Would you get me a comb or brush? Wet it a little, too?"
"Yes, sir." Malcolm said, as he moved off.
"Captain," Phlox quietly spoke up. "Would you like me to stay?"
"Naw," Archer replied. "I think we'll be okay. Thanks."
Phlox exited the room leaving Trip and Archer sitting on the bed. Malcolm came out of the bathroom with the comb and handed it to the captain.
"Great," Jon said, touching the comb to Trip's hair.
Trip flinched at the light pressure on top of his head. It continued, gentle strokes combing down his hair. He had to admit to himself that it felt good, comforting.
"There." Jon marveled.
"I'll be getting back to the bridge, sir." Reed said, turning to leave.
"I'm sorry," Trip's strained voice said.
Both Archer and Reed were stunned at the sound. They both looked over at their friend.
"Trip?" Jon prompted.
"Earlier," Trip told Malcolm. "Sorry ya had to see it."
Archer looked puzzled, but let Reed take it from there.
"No apology necessary," Malcolm assured Trip. "If I were in your place I'd have probably broken everything in this room that wasn't bolted down. I'll come by later."
After Malcolm left, Jon started to get up but was stopped by Trip's hand on his arm.
"Not yet," Trip said, obviously becoming emotional.
"It'll be okay, Trip." Jon promised his friend. "I've already told them about your...accident."
Trip sighed and leaned forward, placing his head in his hands. "I can't."
"Yes you can," Jon encouraged. "You know as well as I do that you're as tough as they come. There isn't any danger you wouldn't face down if this ship or any one of us were in jeopardy."
"But I can't face my own father." Trip said, fighting back the lump that enflamed the back of his throat.
"Trip," Jon tried now. "I think you just better hear him out. You may be surprised."
Archer got up and went to the comm. "Hoshi, put the Tuckers' through to Trip's quarters."
"Aye, sir." Hoshi's voice said.
Jon helped Trip up and guided him over to sit down in the chair at his desk. Trip's hands were trembling and Jon placed his own hand on his best friend's shoulder for moral support. The screen changed and the Tuckers' appeared on the screen.
"Hello, son." Mr. Tucker spoke up.
Trip's body tensed, but Jon squeezed his grip on his shoulder. Trip took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders.
"Hi, Daddy."
TO BE CONTINUED
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