Disclaimer: Enterprise and its characters are copyrighted by Paramount Studios and Viacom. This is a fictional story, no copyright infringement intended. All stories and original characters belong to their respective author.

Warning: This story is rated R. It is NOT for the faint of heart. Several chapters of this work will be extremely graphic in nature and may contain violence and adult language and themes. Thanks to Saturn's Orbit for the idea. This is a response to Challenge #7.

Author's Note: I've rewritten parts of this story, so it's better if you start over again at the beginning. Everything inside the lines is flashback.

The Lost

Chapter 2

Left Behind

"We are the children

The last generation

We are the ones they left behind"

We Don't Need Another Hero, by Tina Turner

Jonathan hadn't been asleep more than two hours when he was awoken with a nightmare. He dreamed he was being chased by people, dead people. He woke with a start, his heavy breathing and sweating. Jonathan couldn't shake the nightmare from his mind, and it was not something he wanted to return to quickly. So he got dressed in civilian clothes and took a walk with his small fuzzy companion, Porthos.

It was three o'clock in the morning, according to his clock by his bed, when he stepped out his door. A little more than a hour later, he found himself in front of the sickbay doors. He remembered the screaming, the tears, the struggle.

"Doctor, report."

 "Do you want the short list of Mr. Tucker's injuries or the long list."

 "Are his injuries serious?"

 "He will need several surgeries to repair the shattered femur and lacerated liver, but I have managed to stabilize his vital organs for now." Phlox's restraining arms were replaced by a nurse. "But what concerns me more is the head trauma." Phlox stepped over to a console, and pushed several buttons before a picture of Trip's brain appeared. "His neural; cortex is destabilizing, probably a result of severe concussion, along with trauma induced by his surroundings on the ship."

"In English, Doc."

"Captain, Commander Tucker is in grave danger."

Archer separated himself from Phlox's side before asking, "Is he going to make it?"

"The only way I know to re-stabilize his neo-neural cortex is to put him into a deep sleep, effectively, to shut down that part of his brain. Hopefully, after sufficient rest, the problem will resolve itself.

"Effectively, to shut down his computer and reboot."

Phlox laughed under his breath He hated situations like this. He didn't want to admit defeat as a doctor, letting his patients die, but it was more than that. These people were his friends, and he didn't want to lose them. Phlox took the loss with some difficulty, although he played brave to the others. He never let them see his emotions. He never could let them see him cry. For their sake, he had to be strong. "Something like that."

 "Do your best, Doctor." He made his way to the Sickbay doors before he called, "Keep me appraised, Doctor." Then, he was gone.

Malcolm looked towards the door as the captain walked out. There was no hello, no 'how are your feeling today. Malcolm felt dreadfully alone without his best friend. He looked over to Trip's bed, but couldn't see anything, as a curtain concealed his friend's agony.

But Trips agony could be heard. He fought to get free of the arms holding him down. He swore and spat, wriggling as hard as he could, but nothing he tried made him move. He was stuck. Trip was in absolute hysterics. The doctor wouldn't tell him much about his condition, only reassuring him with no absolution that he would be alright if he would just relax.

"I remember walking back to the bridge, and encountering several crewmen, to which I simply nodded. I don't know if they realized the magnitude of my depression and guilt then, but I wore them on my sleeve, even as early as a couple of days afterwards. I thought for sure that someone would report me to Dr. Phlox but no one did. I entered my ready room, where the remainder of my senior staff waited for their weekly meeting. I placed my cup at my chair. The meeting went rather quickly. Engines were running efficiently enough. Supplies were in abundant source, and communications from Starfleet were quiet, affording the Enterprise time to make necessary repairs as well as heal themselves. The only report of any consequence was a series of petty burglaries amongst the crewmen. Some clothes, blankets, and food was missing. Nothing too difficult for Malcolm to handle when he got on his feet tomorrow.

"Commander, in your condition, you shouldn't remain agitate like this. It will be detrimental to your recovery."

Entering cautiously, Archer ducked just before a surgical instrument hit the wall beside him with a loud thump. "Let me outta here. I'm not sick. I have to go back for her," Tucker yelled at the top of his voice.

 "Who is he talking about?"

 "Some person who he believes he saw on the derelict ship. He believes her to be alive and adrift still, and in desperate need of help."

 "How long has he been like this?"

 "Almost two hours. At first, I administered a sedative, but it had little effect. Repeating the dosage could put his life in danger. However, stress such as this could also be fatal. He needs to rest."

 "I understand, Doctor." Archer walked slowly towards the mad engineer. "Trip. What are you doing?"

 "Cap'n. You've gotta get me outta here. We've gotta get backta the ship before it implodes. There's a girl on the ship. She's human. She's a human being. We can't leave her behind. We have to save her."

"Trip, we were too late. The ship already imploded. There was nothing left."

 "Oh, God, no. No." Trip fell into a ball, and rocked back and forth. "Oh, God, no. No."

With a swish of a hyposray, Trip fell soundly to sleep. It was deep and dreamless, only a heartbeat away from the agony of the world he knew.

"A week went by, and then another. As Trip slept, more and more problems arose with the engines, but I was unwilling to compromise Trip's health for the warp engines. Unable to maintain a stable warp field, we were forced to maneuver on thrusters only, until the problem was resolved. Another week went by… Enterprise drifted along, looking, praying for a ally to come and help, a good Samaritan who would offer us a hand. But all we really needed was a good engineer. A little elf that worked in the thick of the night, gave me another clue that we had a stowaway on board."

"Engineering to the bridge."

Archer looked puzzled, as he hit the intercom button. "Go ahead."

"Sir, this is Ensign Pierce. I just came on shift about ten minutes ago. It seems that the alpha shift fixed the engines."

"Say again?" Archer threw a puzzled look towards Travis.

"The engines are fixed. Someone fixed the engines, but I don't know who. Warp engines are back on line."

"Understood. Archer out. Travis, set a course for home. Maximum warp."

Aye, Captain."

"Lieutenant Reed, I want to see you right now in my ready room."

This was the conversation Malcolm had dreaded for the past three weeks. He knew that the captain was going to take his actions seriously, and he knew there were going to be serious consequences. At least now, his dread would be over.

"I seem to remember a certain previously Lieutenant, now Ensign, hitting he in the jaw, trying to escape from sick bay. He stole a shuttle pod, and against direct orders, took that shuttle pod to a derelict ship, endangering his life, and risking severe damage, even destruction to the shuttle pod." Archer turned towards Malcolm, and looked him straight in the eye. Reed knew his disappointment. It was the same disappointment as he saw in his father's eyes, when he announced that he was joining Starfleet. "I thought at first that you weren't in full control of your faculties, after all, you did have a severe concussion. But now I know better. Turns out," Archer turned and faced the window, "that you're just a heroic son of a bitch, who won't take no for an answer."

"Sir, if I could apologize," Reed stated, but he was cut off, mid sentence.

"No, you can't. Because I putting you in for commendation for your actions. You risked your life to rescue to save another member of your crew. Damn fine work, son."

"Thank you sir," were the only words that the stunned Malcolm could ease out of his mouth.

"But that's not why I called you in here. Seems we have a thief on board, and I'd like you to assign someone to check it out."

"Of course, sir. I'll get right on it."

Sitting on his bed, Archer made a fist, and released it, then repeated the process. "When Trip woke up, his life went completely downhill. He… he was dealing with grief and frustration, but we didn't know who these feelings were for, and he left the rest of us to deal with his actions. At first, it seemed simple enough to cure him of his ailments. Three o'clock in the morning, and he had been up for two days without sleep. He worked out, drank warm milk, nothing seemed to help, not even the Vulcan neuropressure treatment with T'Pol. Nobody could console him. It was like the first day he found out about his sister, all over again."

Trip, T'Pol, and Jonathan sat in the Captain's private dining room. Jonathan had asked them to join him, in an attempt to cheer Trip up. He thought maybe T'Pol could tell them another story, but Trip's mind was so far away, he didn't hear, see, or feel anything that was going on in that room. "Commander, is your food unsatisfying this evening?"

"What… oh. Sorry Sub-commander. I guess my mind was wandering. What did you say?"

"Is your food unsatisfactory?"

Trip didn't answer. He simply moved the food around his plate with his fork. "You know," his captain said, "you're supposed to eat that, not play with it."

"Guess I'm not real hungry."

 "You look like hell, Commander. What's on your mind?" Archer inquired.

"She is sir."

"Your sister, you mean." Archer was being coy, trying to get his chief engineer's mind off the derelict ship they found two days ago, but it didn't work.

"No, sir. The one I let die on a deserted ship in the middle of nowhere. Excuse me. I think I'm finished." Trip slammed his fork into his plate, breaking the china.

"He hasn't been sleeping properly."

"What makes you say that, T'Pol?"

"He has been seen early in the morning wandering around the ship. He is easily agitated, His speech is slurred, and he refuses to eat. He no longer wishes to attend the Vulcan neuropressure treatments which once helped his tension."

"I'll speak to him later."

 "T'Pol just nodded, and we finished our dinner in silence. Afterwards, I surprised Trip by showing up at his doorstep at twenty three hundred hours. I told him we were going for a walk, and we ended up in Sickbay, just as I planned. The doctor was waiting, and despite all of Trips pleas, I finally convinced him to take the medication the doctor was offering, and get some sleep. When I saw him the next day, he commented to me how well he slept, and thanked me for my help.

"It wasn't until two days later that the next incident began."

"Engineering to Security. Please send a team down here right away."

Malcolm hit the intercom button on the panel to his left. "What seems to be the problem?"

"It's Commander Tucker, sir. He's acting real strange. I think he's drunk."

"Drunk," Archer and Reed said at the same way.

"Tell him we're on our way." Archer ran for the turbo lift doors.

The screaming could be heard from the turbo lift doors. Crashing sounds echoed through engineering as Trip threw replacement parts and tools to the floor and into the bulkhead. It was the worst Archer had ever seen him, and Jonathan knew him for quire a while. He never knew Trio to be a mean drunk, but this reality shattered the truth of Archer and Trip's friendship. "Where is he?"

"He's over there Captain."

 "Trip not only was drunk, he was so drunk that he could barely stand up. He had to hold onto a console and prop himself up. He hit every button on the Main Engineering console, but he couldn't seem to find the one he wanted. It's still amazing to me that he didn't overload the Warp Core, and blow us all up."

Jonathan Archer walked into his bathroom, and leaned against the counter, remembering the next part of his speech vividly. "I spent the better part of that day and night nursing trip back to health. I held his head out of the toilet while he vomited, and force fed him crackers and water. There was nothing we could be but to let the alcohol metastasize, and let his body do the rest. I didn't envy the hangover he had the next day.

Trip looked down at his feet as the Captain walked towards him. He prayed silently that Jonathan would keep walking, but he didn't.

 "Hey, Trip. How do you feel?"

"My head feels like it's ready to explode." A wave of nausea nearly overtook him, but Trip forced it down. "Sir, about yesterday, was I really as bad as everyone said."

 "Well… yeah, pretty much." Archer joked. Jonathan and Trip waited for the Turbo Lift together. "You said you were trying to turn the ship around. You wanted to go find the Sulibon, and kill them all." Jonathan stared the younger officer up and down. "I never knew you were so angry before, Commander. You should talk to someone about your hidden aggression."

"Great, now he thinks he's a psychiatrist," Trip spoke to the ceiling, before turning and facing his captain for the first time since the incident. Trip halted the Turbo Lift between floors. "Sir, I hope you know that that wasn't me. And I swear that'll never happen again. If you want to put a formal reprimand in my file, I understand, and if you want to relieve me of duty, I understand that too. I was way outta line. It will never happen again."

 "You're behavior the past few days, as T'Pol described, has been disturbing. But I need you. I need your expertise in Engineering. There will be no reprimands and no punishment. You've been through a rough time the last couple of days. If you'd like, I could make some time around lunch, and we could talk about it. I'm worried about you, Trip."

 "Thanks, Cap… thanks Jonathan."

 "With a pat on the back, Trip restarted the Turbo Lift, and we were back on our way. We did meet for lunch.

"It was about ten minutes after Malcolm left. I was screaming in pain. I couldn't breathe. It was agony. She crawled out from underneath the sub flooring. I don't know how long she had been on the ship, but she was dirty, and…"

"It's okay. Malcolm told me about the bodies."

"She got a pipe, and pried the metal off me enough to get me out, then pulled me to safety. She didn't say a word when she dressed my wounds, only sang."

"Sang?" Archer questioned?

"Yeah, some song I didn't know. Now, I know we're a long way from home, but she really did look human. I could have sworn… she kept me warm, kept me alive until Malcolm came.

"Trip, you're not responsible for her. It's not like was your child, you couldn't have prevented this."

"You don't understand."

"I think I do. You're taking this hard because of your sister. You feel responsible for her death, like you should have been there to protect her. Well, even if you were, Trip, you wouldn't have been able to save he, just like you were never going to be able to save that alien."

"Girl, Cap'n. She was human. I know it, and I am responsible. We all are. This was our mistake,  and now, we're all goin' to hell because of it. She knew she wasn't going live, and all she wanted someone in this world to remember her after she had died."

Big tears flowed freely down Jonathan's cheek. He couldn't help it now. So much pain. So much heartache. He lowered his head, propping himself up on the back of the chair. "Trip cried. He was really torn up about this. It hurt him deeply, and it's hurt me as well. It's made me wonder about human curiosity. What about the children? What are we teaching them?"

 "I guess that's all we want out of this life, to be remembered for something good we've done in our lives. I don't know, but I think that why I came out here in the first place. But now I know that there's nothing good that come of this kind of exploration. I'm ready to go home.

"Red alert, Captain to the bridge."

"Computer, stop recording and save.

To be continued…