AUTHOR'S NOTE- Alas, real life has taken me away from my writing. Family and work have been high on the demand scale and they come first. Hope you still enjoy and let me know what you think.
CHAPTER 6-
T'Pol stood just inside the doorway, arms folded behind and resting on the small of her back. She watched Archer fumble through the cabinet trying to get Porthos a doggy treat. The canine, sensing the tension, simply cowered in his bed with brown eyes gazing up at his master.
"There you go, buddy." Archer said, bending down and holding out the treat. Porthos nibbled at it hesitantly, then snatched the morsel and gobbled it up. He petted the dog's head and stood at his full height facing T'Pol. "What? No words of Vulcan wisdom?"
"In what area?" T'Pol asked.
Archer let out a forced laugh and sat down on his bed. "The benefits of repressed emotions, perhaps?"
"Captain," T'Pol began to pace. "I don't believe you had...have any control over your actions as a result of your emotions. Not of your own volition, but because of the chemical imbalance in your system."
There was a pause, as the captain leaned back on his pillow. He rested his arm across his eyes. "I know what I did was wrong, only..."
T'Pol sensed there was a confession she would find disturbing forthcoming. She stopped pacing and stood beside the captain's desk.
"I'm listening, Captain." T'Pol assured him. "Not to stand in judgement, but to help you to help us understand."
Archer sighed. "Only I don't feel anything in the way of sympathy for him. I feel remorse for myself for having lost that much control. But I don't feel anything else."
"Clearly you and the commander's feelings towards one another have been greatly altered." T'Pol told him.
"I'm sure you're right." Archer told her. "I mean, I know you're right. I just don't feel it. The hate's too strong."
"Now?" She asked. "Even with being separated from Mr. Tucker?"
"It's still there," was all Archer would say. "And I can't ever remember not feeling this way."
"Perhaps," T'Pol reasoned, "the fact that you are disturbed by these feelings is promising. There will be a guard posted outside your quarters. This is more for your protection, sir..."
"I know, I know." Archer dismissed.
"I will wake you when we hear from Davanj." T'Pol told him. "Good..." She regarded the hour and simply raised her brow. "...morning."
As she left his quarters, Archer could see the guard outside his door. He felt a twinge of embarrassment at the sight. But, again, he felt no empathy for Trip.
----------
Malcolm turned off the bathroom light and came out into the living area. He lowered the lights and turned to look at Trip, lying on his stomach on his bed and breathing softly. Malcolm shook his head. Poor guy, he thought. Trip was so emotionally and physically drained by the events of the past day and night that he was already asleep. Perhaps the good doctor's muscle relaxer helped his friend to reach slumber more easily and quickly. Trip's arms were so tense, and his grip so tight on the handlebars, in the gym that T'Pol had to force his fingers apart.
Malcolm tip-toed to the bed and lifted the blanket up just to Trip's waist. He was careful not to let it contact the other man's bare back. He stood up straight, gazing down at Trip's back which glistened from the doctor's gels and the soft light. Malcolm could see the nasty welts, and a few open cuts, shuddering to think of how it must have felt. To know that Captain Jonathan Archer was doing this to him. This was going to take more than just sobbering up from the chemical they ingested to get past this. It would be a testimony to true friendship, Malcolm thought, if the captain and the commander could make amends with each other after this horrible ordeal.
He turned to leave, pressing the panel and the door opened. The sentry outside nodded and Malcolm reached to shut the lights off completely, then lowered his hand. He took one last, thoughtful look at Trip and thought, perhaps the soft light would be a welcome sight to the commander if he awoke from some nightmarish vision.
----------
As most of the senior bridge crew were taking their posts on the bridge, Captain Archer and Lieutenant Reed were absent. T'Pol sat in the command chair and stared straight ahead.
"Good morning, Sub-commander." Ensign Mayweather addressed.
"Good morning," T'Pol replied. "Captain Archer will not be on duty today, nor will Commander Tucker. Lieutenant Reed will be on duty later today..." She was cut off by the turbolift door opening and a refreshed Reed bounding toward his station.
"Good morning, all." Reed said as he took his station.
"Lieutenant," T'Pol started. "I thought we agreed..."
"I'm sorry, Sub-commander," Reed punched the buttons on his console. "I had enough sleep, I assure you."
T'Pol just nodded and turned her attention back to the viewscreen. Ensign Sato looked over at Ensign Mayweather and they both shared a quizzical look. They thought Commander Tucker being relieved of duty and confined to his quarters yesterday was odd. Now he and the captain were not going to be on duty today. What was going on with those two?
"Sub-commander, we are being hailed." Hoshi spoke up. "It's Davanj."
"Put it through to the captain's ready room." T'Pol rose and snapped her head to Reed, who jumped to his feet and followed her.
----------
"I--I am so sorry," Davanj stammered. "If I had any thoughts this would happen again..."
"What would happen again?" T'Pol asked firmly.
"It must have been the spice's effects on the Trelons four winter's ago," Davanj realized. "We did not know that was what caused their violent behaviors. It was only after the second guests reacted with their inhibitions blocked that we thought, perhaps, it might be a reaction. You see, the spice enhances our positive feelings and emotions. So, we assumed the reaction the second visitors had was the only effects."
"What about these Trelons?" Reed asked, impatiently.
"There were two of them." Davanj began. "They were close friends since birth and were here seeking supplies for their ship and crew. We bartered and then had our meal, like we did with your captain and commander, to seal the transaction. They stayed here, on the surface, and by morning they were verbally badgering each other. It escalated to physical violence..." Davanj's face grew dark and sullen.
"Davanj." T'Pol prodded. "What happened?"
"They fought and one of them was killed." Davanj shook his head. "This was over a period of two days, while they gathered their supplies. On the second day, as the surviving one was leaving, he suddenly became wrought with guilt for what he had done. There was no sign of the hate he had had for the other one. He took his own life aboard his shuttle. His ship left, after retrieving their fallen comrades' bodies, and the remaining crew never asked any questions. We had no way of knowing it was our fault."
"Forty-eight hours." T'Pol looked at Reed. "That should be around 1900 hours today."
"Then we need to keep them separated until then." Reed said.
"I am so sorry." Davanj shook his head. "It must be that the spice reacted to reverse the feelings and emotions of the Trelons toward one another."
"Thank you, Davanj. Our repair team will be down there shortly. Enterprise out." T'Pol cut off the communication and Davanj's image disappeard.
"It makes sense now, Sub-commander." Reed nodded. "Commander Tucker's feelings that Captain Archer's decisions were lame and blatantly showing disrespect for him..."
"When the commander truly holds Captain Jonathan Archer in the highest regard." T'Pol continued the thought. "And the captain's intense hatred of Commander Tucker to the point of physically abusing him..."
T'Pol needn't have finished that thought. She and Reed shared a knowing look that the captain cared very deeply for Trip, their brotherly friendship evident whenever they were together. But now, that closeness had been slashed by a perverse reaction to an alien spice and a cord used to bind floor mats in the gym.
----------
The repair team had made great progress in determining the problems with the atmospheric regulator and were well underway with the repairs by dinner time.
Doctor Phlox had looked in on both Captain Archer and Commander Tucker during the day. Both had slept until mid afternoon and appeared to be more concerned for the other's well being as the day progressed. Phlox had informed them of the reverse emotions they had experienced. It was no consolation, however. They fully recalled every event of the past day, yet could not recall the intense negative emotions and feelings they had had for the other. This caused great anguish for them.
T'Pol and Reed had opted to have dinner in the mess together. Once they finished they would go and see the captain and then the commander; T'Pol to the captain and Reed to Tucker.
Trip sat at his desk, finishing his dinner. The door chime sounded and he jumped.
"Come in." Trip called out.
The door opened and Malcolm Reed entered. Trip's shoulders relaxed at the sight of the armory officer.
"Am I disturbing your meal?" Reed asked, apologetically.
"Naw," Trip shook his head, wiping his mouth on his napkin. "I'm done."
Malcolm moved to the desk and sat down in another chair next to Trip.
"How are you feeling?" Reed asked, glancing at the other man's back.
"Sore." Trip told him. "Doc says I'm off duty for a few more days."
"He explained everything to you?" Reed asked.
"Yeah," Trip replied, getting up and stiffly moving to his bed. He flopped down on his side.
"It wasn't your fault, nor the captain's." Reed insisted. "You both are not responsible."
"I guess." Trip said, grabbing his extra pillow and hugging it tightly.
Malcolm got up and moved to sit beside his friend on the bed. "You guess?"
"I can't help it." Trip told him. "Thinkin' that part of our real feelin's were in there somewhere."
"Nonsense." Reed admonished. "I don't believe that for one minute and neither should you."
"Said I can't help it." Trip said, his eyes misting over. He hugged the pillow tighter.
"You look up to him, Trip. For pity's sake, he's your damn idol." Malcolm stressed, blowing out a ragged breath.
"I know..." Trip's voice cracked. "But what if..."
"Shut up!" Malcolm hollered now. "Don't even say it. It's not true. Good Lord, man, he loves you more than even he knows and vice versa!"
Malcolm's vision began to cloud up as he stared down at Trip. He brushed the back of his hand over his eyes. When he looked back down at Trip, the other man was staring up at him with tears streaming down his face.
"Have you let yourself go about this, yet?" Malcolm asked softly.
Trip hadn't allowed himself the luxury of breaking down about what had happened to him at the hands of the man he thought of as family. He just shook his head back and forth.
"Do you want me to go, then?" Malcolm asked.
Trip swallowed hard and sucked in a halting breath. Again he shook his head back and forth.
Malcolm Reed put his arm around Trip's waist, resting his hand on the bed. He could hear the sob start deep within Trip and felt his body begin to tremble. Malcolm moved his body closer.
Trip buried his face into the pillow and let himself go. He cried so hard that his whole body shook. He couldn't remember the last time he had cried like this. But he wasn't going to hold back. He needed to let it out so he could start to heal inside. And Malcolm was the second closest person he had on this ship, so it was only fitting that he be there since this was all about the first person. The man who, in the past, had always been there to protect him. The same man who welded a cord and whipped him like a wild beast.
Malcolm braced himself against Trip tighter with each violent jerking movement of the blond man's body.
"That's it." Malcolm whispered, soothingly. "You'll feel much better afterwards, my friend."
Trip heard Malcolm, but he wasn't so sure that was true. It felt good now, but he doubted he would feel better until he could see Jon, face to face, and know if there was anything left of their friendship to use to begin rebuilding it back to where it was.
----------
Jonathan Archer splashed cold water in his face. He looked up at himself in the mirror and saw his bloodshot eyes, the puffiness around them pronounced. He had been crying for nearly an hour now, off and on. He couldn't help it. What he had done to the best friend he had ever had in his life was unforgiveable. His guilt and remorse were consuming him from the inside of his gut.
The chime sounded and there was a reverent pause. Jon came out of the bathroom, wiping his face on a towel. He sat at his desk and pretended to be busy on his terminal.
"Come." Archer finally said.
T'Pol entered and saw the uneaten dinner resting on the desk beside the captain. He was going over reports on his computer.
"The shift was uneventful, Captain." T'Pol assured him. "The repairs are progressing at an alarming rate. The team has worked hard and results are evident."
"That's good." Archer replied.
"Doctor Phlox said he spoke with you today." T'Pol said.
"He did." The captain affirmed. "Doesn't make me feel any better about what happened."
"Did he also tell you of the Trelons?" She pressed.
"Yes," Archer told her. "I'm not going to off myself, if that's what you're afraid of."
"Captain," T'Pol began, but was cut off.
"Look, T'Pol," Archer raised his voice. "If I'm not under house arrest anymore, I think there are matters I need to tend to."
"You have been cleared by the doctor." T'Pol said. "He believes you are not under the influence any longer."
"Then I need to go." Archer rose and turned.
T'Pol, for the first time, saw his eyes. She was taken back by the fact that he had been obviously crying before she arrived. Grief was a strong emotion. Strong enough to take down a man like Jonathan Archer.
"Do you wish company?" T'Pol asked.
Archer thought about that for a split second, then shook his head. "No," he decided. "I have to do this alone. Thank you, though."
She nodded and followed her captain out into the corridor. He took a deep breath, straightening his shoulders and headed off. T'Pol watched him go thinking he was brave beyond belief. Even after just succumbing to the emotions that consumed him, he was not going to let that stop him from trying to right a wrong with the man he considered his best friend. But how long could he hold up?
T'Pol turned and proceeded in the other direction, wondering if both men were strong enough to face their fears...and each other.
TO BE CONTINUED
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CHAPTER 6-
T'Pol stood just inside the doorway, arms folded behind and resting on the small of her back. She watched Archer fumble through the cabinet trying to get Porthos a doggy treat. The canine, sensing the tension, simply cowered in his bed with brown eyes gazing up at his master.
"There you go, buddy." Archer said, bending down and holding out the treat. Porthos nibbled at it hesitantly, then snatched the morsel and gobbled it up. He petted the dog's head and stood at his full height facing T'Pol. "What? No words of Vulcan wisdom?"
"In what area?" T'Pol asked.
Archer let out a forced laugh and sat down on his bed. "The benefits of repressed emotions, perhaps?"
"Captain," T'Pol began to pace. "I don't believe you had...have any control over your actions as a result of your emotions. Not of your own volition, but because of the chemical imbalance in your system."
There was a pause, as the captain leaned back on his pillow. He rested his arm across his eyes. "I know what I did was wrong, only..."
T'Pol sensed there was a confession she would find disturbing forthcoming. She stopped pacing and stood beside the captain's desk.
"I'm listening, Captain." T'Pol assured him. "Not to stand in judgement, but to help you to help us understand."
Archer sighed. "Only I don't feel anything in the way of sympathy for him. I feel remorse for myself for having lost that much control. But I don't feel anything else."
"Clearly you and the commander's feelings towards one another have been greatly altered." T'Pol told him.
"I'm sure you're right." Archer told her. "I mean, I know you're right. I just don't feel it. The hate's too strong."
"Now?" She asked. "Even with being separated from Mr. Tucker?"
"It's still there," was all Archer would say. "And I can't ever remember not feeling this way."
"Perhaps," T'Pol reasoned, "the fact that you are disturbed by these feelings is promising. There will be a guard posted outside your quarters. This is more for your protection, sir..."
"I know, I know." Archer dismissed.
"I will wake you when we hear from Davanj." T'Pol told him. "Good..." She regarded the hour and simply raised her brow. "...morning."
As she left his quarters, Archer could see the guard outside his door. He felt a twinge of embarrassment at the sight. But, again, he felt no empathy for Trip.
----------
Malcolm turned off the bathroom light and came out into the living area. He lowered the lights and turned to look at Trip, lying on his stomach on his bed and breathing softly. Malcolm shook his head. Poor guy, he thought. Trip was so emotionally and physically drained by the events of the past day and night that he was already asleep. Perhaps the good doctor's muscle relaxer helped his friend to reach slumber more easily and quickly. Trip's arms were so tense, and his grip so tight on the handlebars, in the gym that T'Pol had to force his fingers apart.
Malcolm tip-toed to the bed and lifted the blanket up just to Trip's waist. He was careful not to let it contact the other man's bare back. He stood up straight, gazing down at Trip's back which glistened from the doctor's gels and the soft light. Malcolm could see the nasty welts, and a few open cuts, shuddering to think of how it must have felt. To know that Captain Jonathan Archer was doing this to him. This was going to take more than just sobbering up from the chemical they ingested to get past this. It would be a testimony to true friendship, Malcolm thought, if the captain and the commander could make amends with each other after this horrible ordeal.
He turned to leave, pressing the panel and the door opened. The sentry outside nodded and Malcolm reached to shut the lights off completely, then lowered his hand. He took one last, thoughtful look at Trip and thought, perhaps the soft light would be a welcome sight to the commander if he awoke from some nightmarish vision.
----------
As most of the senior bridge crew were taking their posts on the bridge, Captain Archer and Lieutenant Reed were absent. T'Pol sat in the command chair and stared straight ahead.
"Good morning, Sub-commander." Ensign Mayweather addressed.
"Good morning," T'Pol replied. "Captain Archer will not be on duty today, nor will Commander Tucker. Lieutenant Reed will be on duty later today..." She was cut off by the turbolift door opening and a refreshed Reed bounding toward his station.
"Good morning, all." Reed said as he took his station.
"Lieutenant," T'Pol started. "I thought we agreed..."
"I'm sorry, Sub-commander," Reed punched the buttons on his console. "I had enough sleep, I assure you."
T'Pol just nodded and turned her attention back to the viewscreen. Ensign Sato looked over at Ensign Mayweather and they both shared a quizzical look. They thought Commander Tucker being relieved of duty and confined to his quarters yesterday was odd. Now he and the captain were not going to be on duty today. What was going on with those two?
"Sub-commander, we are being hailed." Hoshi spoke up. "It's Davanj."
"Put it through to the captain's ready room." T'Pol rose and snapped her head to Reed, who jumped to his feet and followed her.
----------
"I--I am so sorry," Davanj stammered. "If I had any thoughts this would happen again..."
"What would happen again?" T'Pol asked firmly.
"It must have been the spice's effects on the Trelons four winter's ago," Davanj realized. "We did not know that was what caused their violent behaviors. It was only after the second guests reacted with their inhibitions blocked that we thought, perhaps, it might be a reaction. You see, the spice enhances our positive feelings and emotions. So, we assumed the reaction the second visitors had was the only effects."
"What about these Trelons?" Reed asked, impatiently.
"There were two of them." Davanj began. "They were close friends since birth and were here seeking supplies for their ship and crew. We bartered and then had our meal, like we did with your captain and commander, to seal the transaction. They stayed here, on the surface, and by morning they were verbally badgering each other. It escalated to physical violence..." Davanj's face grew dark and sullen.
"Davanj." T'Pol prodded. "What happened?"
"They fought and one of them was killed." Davanj shook his head. "This was over a period of two days, while they gathered their supplies. On the second day, as the surviving one was leaving, he suddenly became wrought with guilt for what he had done. There was no sign of the hate he had had for the other one. He took his own life aboard his shuttle. His ship left, after retrieving their fallen comrades' bodies, and the remaining crew never asked any questions. We had no way of knowing it was our fault."
"Forty-eight hours." T'Pol looked at Reed. "That should be around 1900 hours today."
"Then we need to keep them separated until then." Reed said.
"I am so sorry." Davanj shook his head. "It must be that the spice reacted to reverse the feelings and emotions of the Trelons toward one another."
"Thank you, Davanj. Our repair team will be down there shortly. Enterprise out." T'Pol cut off the communication and Davanj's image disappeard.
"It makes sense now, Sub-commander." Reed nodded. "Commander Tucker's feelings that Captain Archer's decisions were lame and blatantly showing disrespect for him..."
"When the commander truly holds Captain Jonathan Archer in the highest regard." T'Pol continued the thought. "And the captain's intense hatred of Commander Tucker to the point of physically abusing him..."
T'Pol needn't have finished that thought. She and Reed shared a knowing look that the captain cared very deeply for Trip, their brotherly friendship evident whenever they were together. But now, that closeness had been slashed by a perverse reaction to an alien spice and a cord used to bind floor mats in the gym.
----------
The repair team had made great progress in determining the problems with the atmospheric regulator and were well underway with the repairs by dinner time.
Doctor Phlox had looked in on both Captain Archer and Commander Tucker during the day. Both had slept until mid afternoon and appeared to be more concerned for the other's well being as the day progressed. Phlox had informed them of the reverse emotions they had experienced. It was no consolation, however. They fully recalled every event of the past day, yet could not recall the intense negative emotions and feelings they had had for the other. This caused great anguish for them.
T'Pol and Reed had opted to have dinner in the mess together. Once they finished they would go and see the captain and then the commander; T'Pol to the captain and Reed to Tucker.
Trip sat at his desk, finishing his dinner. The door chime sounded and he jumped.
"Come in." Trip called out.
The door opened and Malcolm Reed entered. Trip's shoulders relaxed at the sight of the armory officer.
"Am I disturbing your meal?" Reed asked, apologetically.
"Naw," Trip shook his head, wiping his mouth on his napkin. "I'm done."
Malcolm moved to the desk and sat down in another chair next to Trip.
"How are you feeling?" Reed asked, glancing at the other man's back.
"Sore." Trip told him. "Doc says I'm off duty for a few more days."
"He explained everything to you?" Reed asked.
"Yeah," Trip replied, getting up and stiffly moving to his bed. He flopped down on his side.
"It wasn't your fault, nor the captain's." Reed insisted. "You both are not responsible."
"I guess." Trip said, grabbing his extra pillow and hugging it tightly.
Malcolm got up and moved to sit beside his friend on the bed. "You guess?"
"I can't help it." Trip told him. "Thinkin' that part of our real feelin's were in there somewhere."
"Nonsense." Reed admonished. "I don't believe that for one minute and neither should you."
"Said I can't help it." Trip said, his eyes misting over. He hugged the pillow tighter.
"You look up to him, Trip. For pity's sake, he's your damn idol." Malcolm stressed, blowing out a ragged breath.
"I know..." Trip's voice cracked. "But what if..."
"Shut up!" Malcolm hollered now. "Don't even say it. It's not true. Good Lord, man, he loves you more than even he knows and vice versa!"
Malcolm's vision began to cloud up as he stared down at Trip. He brushed the back of his hand over his eyes. When he looked back down at Trip, the other man was staring up at him with tears streaming down his face.
"Have you let yourself go about this, yet?" Malcolm asked softly.
Trip hadn't allowed himself the luxury of breaking down about what had happened to him at the hands of the man he thought of as family. He just shook his head back and forth.
"Do you want me to go, then?" Malcolm asked.
Trip swallowed hard and sucked in a halting breath. Again he shook his head back and forth.
Malcolm Reed put his arm around Trip's waist, resting his hand on the bed. He could hear the sob start deep within Trip and felt his body begin to tremble. Malcolm moved his body closer.
Trip buried his face into the pillow and let himself go. He cried so hard that his whole body shook. He couldn't remember the last time he had cried like this. But he wasn't going to hold back. He needed to let it out so he could start to heal inside. And Malcolm was the second closest person he had on this ship, so it was only fitting that he be there since this was all about the first person. The man who, in the past, had always been there to protect him. The same man who welded a cord and whipped him like a wild beast.
Malcolm braced himself against Trip tighter with each violent jerking movement of the blond man's body.
"That's it." Malcolm whispered, soothingly. "You'll feel much better afterwards, my friend."
Trip heard Malcolm, but he wasn't so sure that was true. It felt good now, but he doubted he would feel better until he could see Jon, face to face, and know if there was anything left of their friendship to use to begin rebuilding it back to where it was.
----------
Jonathan Archer splashed cold water in his face. He looked up at himself in the mirror and saw his bloodshot eyes, the puffiness around them pronounced. He had been crying for nearly an hour now, off and on. He couldn't help it. What he had done to the best friend he had ever had in his life was unforgiveable. His guilt and remorse were consuming him from the inside of his gut.
The chime sounded and there was a reverent pause. Jon came out of the bathroom, wiping his face on a towel. He sat at his desk and pretended to be busy on his terminal.
"Come." Archer finally said.
T'Pol entered and saw the uneaten dinner resting on the desk beside the captain. He was going over reports on his computer.
"The shift was uneventful, Captain." T'Pol assured him. "The repairs are progressing at an alarming rate. The team has worked hard and results are evident."
"That's good." Archer replied.
"Doctor Phlox said he spoke with you today." T'Pol said.
"He did." The captain affirmed. "Doesn't make me feel any better about what happened."
"Did he also tell you of the Trelons?" She pressed.
"Yes," Archer told her. "I'm not going to off myself, if that's what you're afraid of."
"Captain," T'Pol began, but was cut off.
"Look, T'Pol," Archer raised his voice. "If I'm not under house arrest anymore, I think there are matters I need to tend to."
"You have been cleared by the doctor." T'Pol said. "He believes you are not under the influence any longer."
"Then I need to go." Archer rose and turned.
T'Pol, for the first time, saw his eyes. She was taken back by the fact that he had been obviously crying before she arrived. Grief was a strong emotion. Strong enough to take down a man like Jonathan Archer.
"Do you wish company?" T'Pol asked.
Archer thought about that for a split second, then shook his head. "No," he decided. "I have to do this alone. Thank you, though."
She nodded and followed her captain out into the corridor. He took a deep breath, straightening his shoulders and headed off. T'Pol watched him go thinking he was brave beyond belief. Even after just succumbing to the emotions that consumed him, he was not going to let that stop him from trying to right a wrong with the man he considered his best friend. But how long could he hold up?
T'Pol turned and proceeded in the other direction, wondering if both men were strong enough to face their fears...and each other.
TO BE CONTINUED
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