Title: The Family Way
Authors: Sita/T'eyla
Genre: Angst/Romance
Rating: PG
Codes: T/T, R
Summary: Enterprise is en route to Vulcan, and Trip, T'Pol and their little son have to face T'Pol's family, who declared her an outcast because of her marriage. Then, however, something happens that changes everything...
Disclaimer: Paramount owns Enterprise, we're not making any money from this.
AN: Did you know 'angst' is actually a German word? *g*
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Chapter 3: Sleepless Nights
Restless, Trip turned over and adjusted his pillow. He laid back down, forcing himself to close his eyes and lie still. Since T'Pol's accident three days ago he had been tossing and turning every night, not able to get more than one or two hours of sleep. He had never realized how much he had gotten used to her warm and calming presence beside him. Now that she was gone the bed seemed empty, and he was lying awake at night, thinking of how terribly he was missing her. He had visited her in sickbay every day, sitting at her bedside holding her hand, but the woman he was missing hadn't been there; only her body, surrounded by instruments that were keeping it alive. Secretly, he had been relieved that he could never stay for long since he had to take care of Sam. The baby had been crying a lot these last few days, probably missing his mother just as much as Trip did. Jon had relieved him of duty so he could stay with Sam, and with nothing to do, there was no way to escape the dark thoughts weighing down on him.
Sam, who had been stirring restlessly in his sleep, started to cry. Trip got up and walked over to the crib. He picked up the baby and rocked him gently in his arms. Very soon, Sam's eyes drooped and he seemed to go back to sleep, but as soon as Trip bent down to put him back in his crib he opened his mouth and started to cry again. Trip hesitated a moment, then walked over to his bed with the baby in his arms and sat down. He looked at his son, who had closed his eyes once again, and he smiled slightly.
"Trying to keep your dad awake, huh? That's not very nice of you, now is it. Oh well, I guess it's all the same. I'm not going to be sleeping anyway..."
Looking at the sleeping baby's face Trip had the impression that one of Sam's eyebrows was twitching slightly. I really need to get some sleep soon, he thought, shaking his head as if to clear it. He felt strangely light-headed, probably due to the fact that he hadn't eaten much today. Well, actually nothing. Jon had come by around noon and had brought him some lunch, but although Trip had been hungry, he hadn't been able to eat anything. These last few days he hadn't been in the mess hall at all. Sitting in his quarters all day was bad, but facing the concerned questions and expressions of sympathy of the crew was even worse. The short visits of Jon, Hoshi and Travis created a welcome diversion, though, especially since they didn't ask too many questions, seeing he wasn't willing to discuss his feelings just now. The three of them had stopped by at least once a day, sometimes just to say hello, sometimes staying to chat a little. Malcolm, on the other hand, hadn't come to see him at all. Trip knew why, of course. Jon had told him that although Malcolm was officially on light duties he hardly ever left the Armoury these days, trying to find out what had gone wrong. Trip knew Reed was blaming himself for what had happened, but he just hadn't found the strength to go and talk to him yet. He didn't want to talk to anyone at all. The only thing he wanted to do was go back to work so he would be able to concentrate on faulty circuits and minor malfunctions, things he could fix, and wouldn't have to think of anything else.
He looked down at Sam who was sleeping peacefully in his arms.
You look so much like your mother, he thought. Everytime I look at you, I remember her...
Quickly he pushed the thought aside. In two days they were going to reach Vulcan. Phlox had said T'Pol's only hopes lay now with the Vulcan healers. They seemed to have certain techniques to influence a healing process by entering a mind meld with the patient, and Phlox was quite confident - or at least tried to give the impression - that on Vulcan they could find a way to help T'Pol.
Holding Sam close to his chest, Trip placed a gentle kiss on the baby's forehead.
"You're gonna get your mom back, you hear me?" he whispered. "You're gonna get her back."
-###-
Reed walked down the empty hallways, heading for his quarters. Actually, his quarters were the last place he wanted to be now, but he didn't really have a choice. Ten minutes ago Captain Archer had stopped by the Armoury and had been positively furious to find Malcolm still there. It had been the fifth time that day that Archer had ordered him back to his quarters, and this time the Captain had threatened to confine him to sickbay if Malcolm didn't 'get his ass out of here in the next thirty seconds!' Since Malcolm did not intend to spend the next few days in sickbay with Dr. Phlox hovering over him, he had reluctantly complied.
Reed entered the code to his quarters and the door swished open. The dark and empty room didn't look very inviting. Usually he didn't care much whether his quarters had a personal note to them or not, but at the moment he found the bare Starfleet-grey walls to be strangely depressing.
Wearily, he sat down on his bed. The last few days spent in the Armoury taking apart the burned remains of the console, trying to find out what had happened, had been indeed very frustrating. His desperate search for any clues on what had gone wrong had been futile; it had left him feeling tired and worn out, his injured shoulder throbbing with pain. He knew there had to be something he had overlooked. Obviously some unexpected side-effects had occurred during the experiment, something T'Pol had seen on that display and he hadn't. He had failed to fulfill his duty as Armoury Officer twice; he hadn't seen the explosion coming and he hadn't been able to protect T'Pol from getting injured. In fact, she had protected him, and it was his fault she was in sickbay now, unconscious and hardly able to breathe on her own.
Reed shook his head and closed his eyes. He remembered Trip's face when he had seen his wife lying on the floor in the Armoury between all the debris from the explosion.
I killed her, he thought. I killed her. How could he ever forgive me? How could I ever forgive myself?
He looked down at his hands, scratched and burned from digging in the remains of his EM field equipment, and suddenly he hated himself.
'You're a fanatic,' his sister had once said to him in a half-affectionately, half-exasperated tone of voice. 'Sometimes I think you care more about weapons than you care about people.' Then he had laughed about it, not taking it seriously, but now he knew she had been right. And it wasn't anything to laugh about, either.
His door chimed, and Reed startled.
"Come," he said wearily, hoping it wouldn't be Archer checking on him whether he had gone to bed yet. The door opened and revealed Tucker, wearing his pajamas and looking slightly dishevelled. Reed flinched and got up quickly, hoping Trip hadn't seen his reaction.
"Commander," he said. Trip took a cautious step towards him.
"Can I come in?" he asked. At a loss for words, Reed nodded, and Trip entered, the door closing behind him..There was a moment of awkward silence, then Reed cleared his throat.
"Can... can I help you, Commander?"
Trip sat down on the edge of Malcolm's desk.
"Sorry to bother you that late at night." He sighed. "I just couldn't sleep and felt like having some company."
Reed sat down on his bed, looking at Trip. He couldn't believe Tucker would come to him, of all people, if he felt lonely and wanted to talk to someone.
Realizing he was staring at the Commander, Reed lowered his eyes quickly.
"Oh," he said, the reply sounding odd even to his own ears.
"Yes." Trip eyed him slightly concerned. "Is there something wrong, Malcolm? If you'd rather want me to go I'll -"
Reed shook his head.
"No," he said, "no, it's all right, I...I wasn't sleeping anyway." Cautiously he looked up at Tucker. Trip looked exhausted, dark circles displayed under his eyes, and it seemed like he'd lost some weight.
Three days, Reed thought and felt the knot of guilt in his guts tighten. He's lost that weight in three days. I'm sure he hasn't been eating at all.
He swallowed. "How...how are you doing?" he asked, flinching at the plainness of his question.
A thin smile appeared on Trip's face. "All in all, I think I'm doing okay. I wish I could go back on duty, though. Sitting in my quarters all day with nothing to do but brooding is driving me a little nuts from time to time." He shifted a little on the desk, disarranging the neat pile of padds stacked there. Reed lowered his eyes again, staring fixedly on a spot on the floor. The knot in his stomach twisted.
"I'm sorry," he said, barely audible. "I'm so sorry, Trip."
Tucker didn't answer. The words echoed in Malcolm's ears and he realized how meaningless they were. T'Pol had been - was - Trip's wife, the one person he had chosen to spend his life with, and now she was lying in sickbay, so close to death that it really made no difference anymore.
Reed lifted his head, not wanting to meet Trip's eyes but feeling he had to. What he saw astonished him. Instead of the expression of contempt and maybe even hate he had expected, Trip had a look of sadness on his face.
"I know you're blaming yourself for what happened, Malcolm. See..." He hesitated. "There's no use in trying to figure out who's to blame. It won't change anything. I'm sure it wasn't your fault, and even if it was... it was an accident."
Reed shook his head.
"These kind of accidents aren't supposed to happen. That's what Security's there for."
Trip sighed. "Look, Malcolm. No one's blaming you for what happened to T'Pol. You didn't do anything wrong."
"Yes I did!" Reed got up, suddenly feeling angry. "I should have been the one to protect her, not..."
He noticed he had raised his voice and broke off. He, of all people, had no right to be angry, to shout at the man who had lost his wife because of him and who was even now trying to make him feel less guilty.
"She pushed me away, Trip," he whispered. "Just when the whole thing exploded. She'd noticed something was wrong and she tried to protect me..."
Reed sat back down on the bed, looking at his hands. There was a moment's silence.
"Malcolm." Trip's voice sounded firm. "These last three days...ever since Phlox told me that T'Pol's in a coma, that...that she might never wake up again, I've felt horrible. I don't think there ever was a time when I felt worse. But still...still I'm glad and grateful that it's not you lying there, too, that you're here, alive and able to talk to me." Trip paused, and Reed looked up, meeting Tucker's even gaze.
"Don't go and blame yourself for what happened," Trip said gently. "Don't do that, because there's no use in it, and it only makes things worse."
Reed stared at Trip. Slowly the meaning of what his friend was trying to tell him sunk in. He couldn't believe that Trip would forgive him so easily, but somehow the words were helping him to sort out his thoughts, to get a grip on the situation. Trip was right, he was only making things worse by indulging in self-pity and brooding alone in the Armoury, afraid to talk to his best friend.
Realizing Tucker was expecting some kind of reaction from him, he cleared his throat.
"Thank you, Trip. You're right, I guess." He paused. "If there's anything I can do..."
"Actually, there is," Trip said. Reed raised his eyebrows questioningly.
"When we're going to Vulcan with T'Pol, I don't think it would be a good idea to take Sam with me to the hospital. Well, Jon's going to be quite busy talking to those diplomates, and since you're on light duties anyway..."
Reed's heart sunk. "You want me to take care of the baby?"
Trip hopped off the table, causing a few padds to fall to the floor. "If it's okay with you? I'll show you how to."
Reed swallowed. "Er..."
"That's great." Trip grinned. "Well then, see you tomorrow."
He left, and Reed sat staring at the door that had swished shut behind Trip.
"I'm an Armoury Officer, not a babysitter, Trip."
But the door gave no reply. He let out a small sigh, and, with a sense of foreboding, he got up to pick up the padds that had fallen to the floor.
Authors: Sita/T'eyla
Genre: Angst/Romance
Rating: PG
Codes: T/T, R
Summary: Enterprise is en route to Vulcan, and Trip, T'Pol and their little son have to face T'Pol's family, who declared her an outcast because of her marriage. Then, however, something happens that changes everything...
Disclaimer: Paramount owns Enterprise, we're not making any money from this.
AN: Did you know 'angst' is actually a German word? *g*
---------------------------------
Chapter 3: Sleepless Nights
Restless, Trip turned over and adjusted his pillow. He laid back down, forcing himself to close his eyes and lie still. Since T'Pol's accident three days ago he had been tossing and turning every night, not able to get more than one or two hours of sleep. He had never realized how much he had gotten used to her warm and calming presence beside him. Now that she was gone the bed seemed empty, and he was lying awake at night, thinking of how terribly he was missing her. He had visited her in sickbay every day, sitting at her bedside holding her hand, but the woman he was missing hadn't been there; only her body, surrounded by instruments that were keeping it alive. Secretly, he had been relieved that he could never stay for long since he had to take care of Sam. The baby had been crying a lot these last few days, probably missing his mother just as much as Trip did. Jon had relieved him of duty so he could stay with Sam, and with nothing to do, there was no way to escape the dark thoughts weighing down on him.
Sam, who had been stirring restlessly in his sleep, started to cry. Trip got up and walked over to the crib. He picked up the baby and rocked him gently in his arms. Very soon, Sam's eyes drooped and he seemed to go back to sleep, but as soon as Trip bent down to put him back in his crib he opened his mouth and started to cry again. Trip hesitated a moment, then walked over to his bed with the baby in his arms and sat down. He looked at his son, who had closed his eyes once again, and he smiled slightly.
"Trying to keep your dad awake, huh? That's not very nice of you, now is it. Oh well, I guess it's all the same. I'm not going to be sleeping anyway..."
Looking at the sleeping baby's face Trip had the impression that one of Sam's eyebrows was twitching slightly. I really need to get some sleep soon, he thought, shaking his head as if to clear it. He felt strangely light-headed, probably due to the fact that he hadn't eaten much today. Well, actually nothing. Jon had come by around noon and had brought him some lunch, but although Trip had been hungry, he hadn't been able to eat anything. These last few days he hadn't been in the mess hall at all. Sitting in his quarters all day was bad, but facing the concerned questions and expressions of sympathy of the crew was even worse. The short visits of Jon, Hoshi and Travis created a welcome diversion, though, especially since they didn't ask too many questions, seeing he wasn't willing to discuss his feelings just now. The three of them had stopped by at least once a day, sometimes just to say hello, sometimes staying to chat a little. Malcolm, on the other hand, hadn't come to see him at all. Trip knew why, of course. Jon had told him that although Malcolm was officially on light duties he hardly ever left the Armoury these days, trying to find out what had gone wrong. Trip knew Reed was blaming himself for what had happened, but he just hadn't found the strength to go and talk to him yet. He didn't want to talk to anyone at all. The only thing he wanted to do was go back to work so he would be able to concentrate on faulty circuits and minor malfunctions, things he could fix, and wouldn't have to think of anything else.
He looked down at Sam who was sleeping peacefully in his arms.
You look so much like your mother, he thought. Everytime I look at you, I remember her...
Quickly he pushed the thought aside. In two days they were going to reach Vulcan. Phlox had said T'Pol's only hopes lay now with the Vulcan healers. They seemed to have certain techniques to influence a healing process by entering a mind meld with the patient, and Phlox was quite confident - or at least tried to give the impression - that on Vulcan they could find a way to help T'Pol.
Holding Sam close to his chest, Trip placed a gentle kiss on the baby's forehead.
"You're gonna get your mom back, you hear me?" he whispered. "You're gonna get her back."
-###-
Reed walked down the empty hallways, heading for his quarters. Actually, his quarters were the last place he wanted to be now, but he didn't really have a choice. Ten minutes ago Captain Archer had stopped by the Armoury and had been positively furious to find Malcolm still there. It had been the fifth time that day that Archer had ordered him back to his quarters, and this time the Captain had threatened to confine him to sickbay if Malcolm didn't 'get his ass out of here in the next thirty seconds!' Since Malcolm did not intend to spend the next few days in sickbay with Dr. Phlox hovering over him, he had reluctantly complied.
Reed entered the code to his quarters and the door swished open. The dark and empty room didn't look very inviting. Usually he didn't care much whether his quarters had a personal note to them or not, but at the moment he found the bare Starfleet-grey walls to be strangely depressing.
Wearily, he sat down on his bed. The last few days spent in the Armoury taking apart the burned remains of the console, trying to find out what had happened, had been indeed very frustrating. His desperate search for any clues on what had gone wrong had been futile; it had left him feeling tired and worn out, his injured shoulder throbbing with pain. He knew there had to be something he had overlooked. Obviously some unexpected side-effects had occurred during the experiment, something T'Pol had seen on that display and he hadn't. He had failed to fulfill his duty as Armoury Officer twice; he hadn't seen the explosion coming and he hadn't been able to protect T'Pol from getting injured. In fact, she had protected him, and it was his fault she was in sickbay now, unconscious and hardly able to breathe on her own.
Reed shook his head and closed his eyes. He remembered Trip's face when he had seen his wife lying on the floor in the Armoury between all the debris from the explosion.
I killed her, he thought. I killed her. How could he ever forgive me? How could I ever forgive myself?
He looked down at his hands, scratched and burned from digging in the remains of his EM field equipment, and suddenly he hated himself.
'You're a fanatic,' his sister had once said to him in a half-affectionately, half-exasperated tone of voice. 'Sometimes I think you care more about weapons than you care about people.' Then he had laughed about it, not taking it seriously, but now he knew she had been right. And it wasn't anything to laugh about, either.
His door chimed, and Reed startled.
"Come," he said wearily, hoping it wouldn't be Archer checking on him whether he had gone to bed yet. The door opened and revealed Tucker, wearing his pajamas and looking slightly dishevelled. Reed flinched and got up quickly, hoping Trip hadn't seen his reaction.
"Commander," he said. Trip took a cautious step towards him.
"Can I come in?" he asked. At a loss for words, Reed nodded, and Trip entered, the door closing behind him..There was a moment of awkward silence, then Reed cleared his throat.
"Can... can I help you, Commander?"
Trip sat down on the edge of Malcolm's desk.
"Sorry to bother you that late at night." He sighed. "I just couldn't sleep and felt like having some company."
Reed sat down on his bed, looking at Trip. He couldn't believe Tucker would come to him, of all people, if he felt lonely and wanted to talk to someone.
Realizing he was staring at the Commander, Reed lowered his eyes quickly.
"Oh," he said, the reply sounding odd even to his own ears.
"Yes." Trip eyed him slightly concerned. "Is there something wrong, Malcolm? If you'd rather want me to go I'll -"
Reed shook his head.
"No," he said, "no, it's all right, I...I wasn't sleeping anyway." Cautiously he looked up at Tucker. Trip looked exhausted, dark circles displayed under his eyes, and it seemed like he'd lost some weight.
Three days, Reed thought and felt the knot of guilt in his guts tighten. He's lost that weight in three days. I'm sure he hasn't been eating at all.
He swallowed. "How...how are you doing?" he asked, flinching at the plainness of his question.
A thin smile appeared on Trip's face. "All in all, I think I'm doing okay. I wish I could go back on duty, though. Sitting in my quarters all day with nothing to do but brooding is driving me a little nuts from time to time." He shifted a little on the desk, disarranging the neat pile of padds stacked there. Reed lowered his eyes again, staring fixedly on a spot on the floor. The knot in his stomach twisted.
"I'm sorry," he said, barely audible. "I'm so sorry, Trip."
Tucker didn't answer. The words echoed in Malcolm's ears and he realized how meaningless they were. T'Pol had been - was - Trip's wife, the one person he had chosen to spend his life with, and now she was lying in sickbay, so close to death that it really made no difference anymore.
Reed lifted his head, not wanting to meet Trip's eyes but feeling he had to. What he saw astonished him. Instead of the expression of contempt and maybe even hate he had expected, Trip had a look of sadness on his face.
"I know you're blaming yourself for what happened, Malcolm. See..." He hesitated. "There's no use in trying to figure out who's to blame. It won't change anything. I'm sure it wasn't your fault, and even if it was... it was an accident."
Reed shook his head.
"These kind of accidents aren't supposed to happen. That's what Security's there for."
Trip sighed. "Look, Malcolm. No one's blaming you for what happened to T'Pol. You didn't do anything wrong."
"Yes I did!" Reed got up, suddenly feeling angry. "I should have been the one to protect her, not..."
He noticed he had raised his voice and broke off. He, of all people, had no right to be angry, to shout at the man who had lost his wife because of him and who was even now trying to make him feel less guilty.
"She pushed me away, Trip," he whispered. "Just when the whole thing exploded. She'd noticed something was wrong and she tried to protect me..."
Reed sat back down on the bed, looking at his hands. There was a moment's silence.
"Malcolm." Trip's voice sounded firm. "These last three days...ever since Phlox told me that T'Pol's in a coma, that...that she might never wake up again, I've felt horrible. I don't think there ever was a time when I felt worse. But still...still I'm glad and grateful that it's not you lying there, too, that you're here, alive and able to talk to me." Trip paused, and Reed looked up, meeting Tucker's even gaze.
"Don't go and blame yourself for what happened," Trip said gently. "Don't do that, because there's no use in it, and it only makes things worse."
Reed stared at Trip. Slowly the meaning of what his friend was trying to tell him sunk in. He couldn't believe that Trip would forgive him so easily, but somehow the words were helping him to sort out his thoughts, to get a grip on the situation. Trip was right, he was only making things worse by indulging in self-pity and brooding alone in the Armoury, afraid to talk to his best friend.
Realizing Tucker was expecting some kind of reaction from him, he cleared his throat.
"Thank you, Trip. You're right, I guess." He paused. "If there's anything I can do..."
"Actually, there is," Trip said. Reed raised his eyebrows questioningly.
"When we're going to Vulcan with T'Pol, I don't think it would be a good idea to take Sam with me to the hospital. Well, Jon's going to be quite busy talking to those diplomates, and since you're on light duties anyway..."
Reed's heart sunk. "You want me to take care of the baby?"
Trip hopped off the table, causing a few padds to fall to the floor. "If it's okay with you? I'll show you how to."
Reed swallowed. "Er..."
"That's great." Trip grinned. "Well then, see you tomorrow."
He left, and Reed sat staring at the door that had swished shut behind Trip.
"I'm an Armoury Officer, not a babysitter, Trip."
But the door gave no reply. He let out a small sigh, and, with a sense of foreboding, he got up to pick up the padds that had fallen to the floor.