Okay, this chapter should go into the rated R category for violence. Plus, its very angsty. Angsty? Hey a new word! ;-)
Big spoilers for 'Cogenitor'
^*^*Chapter Three*^*^
Trip lied on his well-made bed. He wasn't ready to go to sleep for his mind was racing with what had happened earlier that day in engineering. One hand was cupped under his head, while the other one rested across his stomach as he stared into the ceiling. He was in his casual nightwear, listening absorbedly to Mozart. He loved the piano, so much more calming than the usual full orchestra, which was what he needed at the moment. Soon, his eyes began to relax and he slowly blinked. Whatever Aneorm did seemed to have a weight lifted off his shoulders. He was less nervous and more himself that entire day. The door chimed before he could fall asleep. He jerked from surprise and sat up, rubbing his eyes.
"Come in," he replied as he reached up and turned off the music. Aneorm walked in, dressed in sleepwear which caught his eye in an ungentlemanly manner. Before she could notice, he stood up, clearing his throat and looked at her face. It was expressionless except for the eyes which once again spoke to his. "Aneorm? I didn't know you were on the ship." Something was wrong. Without saying a word, she sat on the edge of his bed. He waited patiently for her to speak first but decided otherwise. "Can I get you somethin'?"
"No," she said and turned her head to stare out the window at her planet below. She then looked up at him and smiled. "Sit down, please."
He complied and confusedly gazed at her strange expression.
"Is everything alright?" he asked concerned. She smiled again and looked at him nervously.
"Yes…" she said quietly. "…for me at least."
"What do you mean?" he asked confused and found himself sitting down, moving in closer to her.
"I mean about you…" she said to his surprise. "…something's wrong. You're very troubled."
"What?" his mood seemed to darken within moments as he continued to stare into her eyes, which eventually showed pain. He knew what she was talking about. She might not have known specifically why he was troubled and he didn't want her to know. He wasn't ready for her to know, or more accurately, he didn't want to get to know it again, himself.
"I'm worried about you, Trip," she said soothingly and shifted herself closer. Her hand then relaxed on his strong chest and slowly slid up his neck. She tugged at it gently and his lips eagerly met hers. Their eyes were closed, the kiss was passionate, and he didn't want to let go. He brought up his own hand to caress her but she pushed it away and pulled back from him, their lips becoming free.
"What's wrong?" he asked breathlessly.
"Don't hide it, Trip, please," she urged. "I saw something the very moment we made contact in engineering. Something you've been trying to fight."
"No, Aneorm," he seemed to speak to her in a hushing tone. "That doesn't matter. You said you bring out somethin' in a man that no other species could and you did. You did for me." He brushed his hand gently on her neck and saw her eyes fill up with tears.
"Please don't, Trip… let me," her voice trembled. There was a long pause, and all could be heard was their heavy breathing. He didn't know what else to say. He wanted to fight it away, he wanted them to be happy again, he wanted something more, something more powerful to come between them. But, she slid her hand over and again caressed his. She flipped it over and rubbed her fingers against his large palm. And for some strange reason, he let her. "It will always be there if you avoid it." He felt something wave over him, something he knew and didn't like. There was also something else that kept him from letting go of her and he knew it: they had an understanding, a closeness that he wasn't about to let free. But the other wave was pain, and he tried to fight it.
"Why?" is all he could manage to say.
"Please, Trip," she pleaded again and lifted his hand as her other hand grabbed his other. He wanted to let go somehow, or turn the tables to make the pain go away, but it wouldn't let him. Why did what she was doing to him have to hurt so much? Why was she so eager to make him go through such pain? He knew why but couldn't say it, couldn't clearly think it. Their hands were palm-to-palm between them in midair like before. He felt surges of anger, pain, and sorrow race through his body and mind. Their eyes were locked and he felt swallowed into her gaze. "Can you remember?"
"Yes," he choked. It was something terrible, something he tried to forget. He continued to struggle to push it away but couldn't. "Please… don't."
"Its okay, Trip, stay with me," she nearly whispered. He gaped searchingly into her eyes in hurt, pleading for her to stop. But then she changed, her eyes changed. They were no longer hers. The space around them transformed. His room was lit by a sun, a huge, glowing sun. He looked out the window and eyed the gaseous giant.
"No…" his voice trembled and his eyes watered. He tried to look at Aneorm, but it wasn't her. He knew who it was and it scared him. I was the cogenitor. He could see it, the young, curious, naïve eyes. And he could feel it. His breathing steadied. The piano began playing a different yet familiar tune, and the cogenitor smiled.
"Trip…" he heard a distant voice say soothingly. His face was red and a tear streamed down his cheek, except he found himself smiling.
"She's okay," he said and his body shook uncontrollably. He held on tighter to her soft hands, staring into her smiling face. His favorite piece began to play now. He choked and tried to hold back the tears in his red eyes. Sliding his fingers between hers, he firmly clenched his hands into fists.
"Trip, stop," he then heard the distant voice.
"No, she's okay," he said and smiled back into the cogenitor's enlightened expression.
"Let go," it said again in distress. "Now."
"No!" he groaned and squeezed his hands tighter and tighter. The cogenitor slowly changed. Her smile went away and she looked into his eyes, frightened. His smile disappeared and he gawked at her puzzled. Her eyes watered up and she looked down. He lowered his eyes at the terrifying sight. Blood soaked her abdomen around the huge gash, and spewed onto the sheets. "No!" he yelled again, mortified.
"Stop, Trip! Stop it!" the voice pleaded but he only held on tighter. The cogenitor peered into his bloodshot eyes once again as hers began to close. Both his cheeks were soaked with tears from horror and he tried to pull her forward as she began to fall back. "Let go, Trip!"
"Please…no," his voice shook violently and his hands trembled, trying to pull her up. The piano died and the cogenitor lied on the bed, blood everywhere. He wanted to let go of her hands to pick her up but he couldn't. "I'm sorry." His voice was suddenly a whisper. And there was an agonizing scream.
"Commander!" he heard another voice call out. The cogenitor lied helpless, her hands being nearly crushed by his firm grasp. "Trip!"
Another hand grabbed his wrist and tried to pull his grip from the cogenitor's.
"Stop! I can't let her die!" he yelled, his eyes full of fury and pain. But he was soon helpless himself. His hands were ripped from hers, the sun dimmed down. The feeling was still there. He looked up at the man who tore them apart. It was the face of his friend, Jonathon Archer, looking down at him crossly. Infuriated, Trip looked down at the cogenitor and the blood. "You bastard!"
The face of his captain turned from rage to fear as the commander leaped up from the bed and rammed him against the wall.
"You son of a bitch!" his voice howled again.
"Sir!" the man yelled out of breath. "I'm here to help!" Trip ignored him, plunging his fists into the shorter man's stomach and face continuously. His own fists ached from the impacts, and began to bleed. There was blood all over the man's face and he took disgusting pleasure in it.
"Stop!" he heard a woman's voice. He paused, his heart leapt, and with desperate hope, turned around. He gasped for the cogenitor was gone. Aneorm had replaced her. There was no blood and the sun was gone and the music had died. Out of breath, tears began to stream down his red face at the sight of Aneorm's painful expression. He looked down at the man he had nearly beaten to a pulp: it was Malcolm. Blood trickled from the lieutenant's brow and nose as he clutched his stomach, gritting his teeth.
"Sir…" Reed moaned and spit blood from his mouth. What had he done? His friend sat there, weak and tired and bloodied. Reed tried to move while Aneorm lied on the bed. Trip choked on his phlegm as he tried to hold back the tears from his eyes and nose. He sputtered out something indistinctively out of anguish, and collapsed onto the bed. As Reed slowly brought himself to his feet, Trip buried his head in his hand and sobbed hysterically.
Aneorm sat up and gently wrapped her arm around his sweaty neck, pulling him in closer. His forehead touched hers and slid down her wet cheek to her shoulder. She pulled him even closer and they both sat; her calmly holding back the rest of her tears, while he wept beneath her arms. She looked up at the bloody, awestricken Reed.
"I'm sorry," she said sobbingly, seeming to say to the both of them. She stroked her sore, red fingers through Trip's wet hair to sooth him.
Reed wiped the blood from his face with his wrist, and stared at them sadly, not sure what to do next.
To Be Continued…
I have a few more chapters already written but they're in desperate need of tweaking so it might just a be a few more days 'til there's more :-)