Disclaimer: Lots of angst etc. in this part: you have all been warned! The title and parts of poem in this story are taken from Mlaa's "The Call Of Steel." A big thank you to my beta, "HopefulNebula" as always, and to "Mlaa" for being kind enough to let me borrow her poem. Information on the other poems used are at the end of this part. Thanks to "HopefulNebula" and "Invader" for letting me use them.
The Call Of Steel.
Part 8:- Smash.
~ bent on destruction
little holes drain just as well as big
"The Call of Steel" by Mlaa ~
Trip woke with a start and sat bolt upright. He glanced wildly around the room, his hand on his chest. With a groan he rolled out of the bed and moved towards his bathroom, looking more like a zombie than a Chief Engineer. He reached his mirror and with a yawn pulled off his shirt. He gazed at his relection, his eyes full of sleep. He began to turn away but something white caught his eye. He stopped and looked back at his reflection.
"What?" he muttered, fingering the clean white bangages. He didn't remember putting them on, at least not at first. After a few seconds memories began to slowly wash over him. Yet the whole time Trip was left with a feeling of detachment. As if what he had done was not really him.
"Feels like I've been living underwater for the past few days... ever since I went and visited my father." The very thought of his father made Trip clench his teeth. He rubbed at the bandages, feeling them itch against the healing scars. Trip's fingers clenched and unclenched as he stared in the mirror, trying to ignore the need he was feeling, the need to feel cold steel on his walls of flesh. He pulled open a drawer and picked up the razor blade that was nestled in it.
"I want to do this." He told the empty room. "I can stop whenever I want - but I don't want to." The words sounded hollow as they echoed around his bathroom. Trip slashed at his arms again and again, not feeling the cuts or the blood that came oozing out of them. The world began to spin for Trip. He paused mid-cut and tried to concentrate, however, the blade kept moving in and out of focus - one second it was clear cut and then next, fuzzy. Trip didn't even have time to swear before his legs folded in on him and he hit the floor, out cold.
It was about three hours later when Trip came to. He was still in the bathroom, blood all over the left side of his face. He slowly forced himself into an upright position and looked around. For the first time he saw what he was doing to himself as what it really was. A sick hobby that was out of control. He also knew that even though he might deny it, he was addicted to the feel of the razor.
"My God." He muttered as he saw the amount of dried blood that was all over his bathroom. It didn't take a doctor to know that he had lost more blood
than was healthy. He needed to get out- away from this, away from everything. He reached up and scrubbed away the dried blood on his face. He carried on scrubbing at his face even when all the blood was gone. He scrubbed and scrubbed, hot tears mixing with the soap and water he was using. It was only when his arms, still weak from loss of blood, began to hurt that he stopped.
"What am I?" He asked his reflection. "What?" He whispered, his tears drying. Barely noticing what he was doing, he pulled his shirt back on, smoothing down the sleeves before stepping out of his room. He didn't know where he was going or what he was going to do when he got there. All he knew was that he had to get away, had to get out, out of his own skin if need to, just to get away from the legacy his father had left him - the legacy that had made him who he was.
~@~
Archer was in a foul mood. After visiting Phlox he had been told that he still didn't know the casue of Charles Sr's death and he would inform the captain as soon as he did. That had been nearly 11 hours ago and Archer still hadn't had any news. A sudden beep by his right elbow jolted him out of his dark thoughts.
"Archer here."
"Captain this is Dr. Phlox. I have some news for you."
"I'll be right there." Archer said, jumping out of his seat in his ready room. The doctor's voice came out of the comm.
"There's no need Captain." Came his cheerful voice. "I have no doubt now that Mr. Tucker died a natural death."
"Thank you." Archer said, his voice sounding odd. He switched off the com and sat back down, frowning as he tried to put his finger on the nagging feeling he was having. It came as a shock to Archer when he suddenly reconsidered the feeling.
It was guilt.
"Trip..." Archer said, knowing the guilty feeling in his chest was because he had suspected his best friend of murder. And then there had been Mrs. Tucker's big bombshell. Archer didn't know how to deal with the fact that anyone's own father could do what she said he did. There was only one thing Archer could think of. He had to go and talk to Trip, had to go and get this out in the open with him.
Archer reached Trip's room, missing Trip by mere minutes, though he didn't know that. He pressed the button to override the locks. He had a feeling that Trip didn't want company, but he was going to get it anyway. Archer gave a sharp intake of breath when the door swung open. The room in front of him was in darkness - just as it had been when he had found Charles Sr. He took a slow step forward.
"Computer. Lights." The lights came on and Archer looked around. The whole place was neat and tidy, something that was most odd for Trip. As he looked around his eyes caught sight of a red stain in the bathroom, the door of which was slightly open. Archer stepped into Trip's bathroom and stopped, holding his hand up to his mouth in an effort to stop sick raising to throat. There was blood everywhere. A quick inspection revealed a razor blade.
"Trip, oh Trip, no... please say this isn't what it looks like." He asked the empty room. He stumbled back out and looked around the empty rooms once more. By Trip's bed was a large black book. It seemed to disrupt the picture of neatness he was looking at because people simply didn't really use paper much any more. He reached out a hand and slowly picked up the book, feeling the weight in his hands. He slowly opened the book, his eyes travleling over the pages as he flicked through them. Vague lines jumped out at him. Vague lines of poetry.
"The mask I wear day-by-day, It's hiding the fact that I'm not okay."
He muttered. His eyes fell one another page which had another poem.
"bringing that life back to your heart. along with the pain. for pain is your life"
He whispered in horror. His hands turned just one more page to the last poem in the book. He read it, his eyes widening, before dropping the black book and running out of the room. The book stayed open at the last poem which was only four lines long;
~Like the cuts on my arm
Like the burns on my hand
Like a memory long gone
I will soon fade away~
~@~
The screen illuminated Hoshi's face as she sat by her desk trying to work out the message. Bits were starting to come together but none of it made any sense. Her computer gave a beep and she smiled, realizing it had worked out the other language. That was the theory at least. Hoshi's eyes widened as she translated the message. There among the lines was one word that jumped out at her.
"Tucker? Oh, no." She whispered. She read the message all the way through, noting the few words that had not been translated- most likely names and stood up, her breathing un-even. She had to find the Captain. Before it was too late.
~@~
Trip wandered the corridors in a daze, not knowing where he was going and not really caring. He passed countless crewmen who all said things to him, words of sorrow, of pity and he didn't hear a single word they said. He let his feet guild him, as his mind was busy elsewhere, wandering paths of misery. He stopped and looked around. To his surprise his feet had led him right to the launch bay, shrugging his shoulders he stepped inside and looked around at the cold bay, where the shuttle lay, silent. He looked back and forth between the doors leading to the rest of the ship and the controls that opened the bay doors. Just one little button to press, then just let go... and it would all be over. He slowly moved towards the console, his eyes glued to the tiny button. He climbed up the metal ladder and moved along the gangway, his feet drawn towards the console. Below him the launch bay doors opened and Archer came sprinting in. He skidded to a stop and looked around, hoping to spot Trip. For a second he didn't see him, then his gaze shot upwards and there was Trip. He looked terrible in Archer's view- pale skin and bloodshot eyes.
"Trip?" Archer said, keeping his voice as normal as possible. "What are you doing?" Trip jumped as if he had been stung.
"Cap'n. I'm... just checking out some odd readings." He said. Archer frowned. Archer himself had just come from Engineering and knew that no one there knew where Trip was. The lines of poetry floated back into his head and all his fears returned- fears which he had convinced himself were groundless. His eyes moved over to the control panel Trip was next to. He gave a tiny gasp as pieces slotted together with a dreaded 'click'.
"Trip... No, tell me this isn't what it looks like." He pleaded, looking up at his friend who started back at him, eyes empty.
"Depends. What does this look like?" Trip asked dully.
"It looks like you're about to make a huge mistake." Archer said softly, taking a tiny step towards Trip.
"A mistake?" Trip gave an laugh, empty of all feelings. He looked down at the console, trying to blink away the tears that had suddenly sprung into his eyes.
"You call fixing my problem a mistake?"
"You call fixing your problem killing yourself?" Archer retorted. "Trip, I know how you'll feeling but-"
"You know?" Trip said harshly. "How could YOU possibly know how I feel?" He asked, real bitterness leaking into his voice. Archer paused as he considered Trip's words.
"You're right, I don't know how you feel." He said quietly, his voice holding the tone of defeat.
"I'll probably never know how you feel, but the Trip I know wouldn't do this. The Trip I know is a fighter." Trip's wild eyes looked into Archer's.
"I can't do this." He sobbed. With a gasp he took a step nearer to his death.
"Trip!" Archer screamed, trying to stop his friend. "Trip! God is crying!" Trip paused and looked back at his friend, tears pouring down his face.
"Wh-What did you say?" he asked horsly.
"I said God's crying Trip." Archer repeated. He stepped up the ladder and moved towards Trip, his hands outstretched. Trip curled up into a ball and watched Archer step closer and closer and unable to do anything about it.
"Trip. Please... come here." Archer pleaded, holding out his arms. All it needed was for Trip to move just a centimeter backwards and he would be right on the button which would kill them both. Trip turned his head and stared at Archer his eyes bright and clear despite the tears that had run down them. He slowly moved towards Archer. Just before him he paused and looked at the ground then back up at Archer.
"Help me." He muttered.
"I will, I promise." Archer said as Trip fell into his arms. At first he thought Trip was merely lying quietly then he realized with a sickening feeling that Trip was unconscious. A quick glance showed Archer all the cuts Trip had inflicted on himself.
"Let's get you to the doctor."
~@~
Dr. Phlox lifted the cold hand of Charles Sr and peered at one of the fingers.
"Odd." He muttered. Using some tweezers he carefully removed a small gray computer chip from under the forefinger finger nail.
"Doctor!" Archer screamed, rushing into sickbay, Trip in his arms. The chip, along with everything else was forgotten as he went over to Trip.
~@~
Archer paced up and down outside sickbay waiting for Dr. Phlox to tell him something. Hoshi rushed up to him, out of breath.
"Captain!" she gasped. "I have some news for you. It's about that message. I've worked it out... there's something in it you should hear." Archer looked over at her, glad to be able to focus on something besides Trip.
"What is it Hoshi?"
"Basically Sir?" She asked, prolonging her moment. At Archer's nod she took a deep breath, with the air of someone about to drop a bombshell.
"Charles Sr might not be as dead as he would like us to think."
TBC...
The poems used are;
The first poem is "Cold Inside" by me (Sethoz) and the full version can be found at:
The second poem is "6 Ways to Look at a Scar" by HopefulNebula and the full version can be found at:
The last poem is "Fade" by Invader and the full version can be found at:
Please, please leave a review and check out the poems, they're very good!
Here, you all go, another teaser for the next part.
"You mean, I have to... kill Trip?" Archer asked, his voice dull. Phlox looked at him, then slowly nodded.
Coming Soon... Part 9: Above all things, Love.
Sethoz-Chan
The Call Of Steel.
Part 8:- Smash.
~ bent on destruction
little holes drain just as well as big
"The Call of Steel" by Mlaa ~
Trip woke with a start and sat bolt upright. He glanced wildly around the room, his hand on his chest. With a groan he rolled out of the bed and moved towards his bathroom, looking more like a zombie than a Chief Engineer. He reached his mirror and with a yawn pulled off his shirt. He gazed at his relection, his eyes full of sleep. He began to turn away but something white caught his eye. He stopped and looked back at his reflection.
"What?" he muttered, fingering the clean white bangages. He didn't remember putting them on, at least not at first. After a few seconds memories began to slowly wash over him. Yet the whole time Trip was left with a feeling of detachment. As if what he had done was not really him.
"Feels like I've been living underwater for the past few days... ever since I went and visited my father." The very thought of his father made Trip clench his teeth. He rubbed at the bandages, feeling them itch against the healing scars. Trip's fingers clenched and unclenched as he stared in the mirror, trying to ignore the need he was feeling, the need to feel cold steel on his walls of flesh. He pulled open a drawer and picked up the razor blade that was nestled in it.
"I want to do this." He told the empty room. "I can stop whenever I want - but I don't want to." The words sounded hollow as they echoed around his bathroom. Trip slashed at his arms again and again, not feeling the cuts or the blood that came oozing out of them. The world began to spin for Trip. He paused mid-cut and tried to concentrate, however, the blade kept moving in and out of focus - one second it was clear cut and then next, fuzzy. Trip didn't even have time to swear before his legs folded in on him and he hit the floor, out cold.
It was about three hours later when Trip came to. He was still in the bathroom, blood all over the left side of his face. He slowly forced himself into an upright position and looked around. For the first time he saw what he was doing to himself as what it really was. A sick hobby that was out of control. He also knew that even though he might deny it, he was addicted to the feel of the razor.
"My God." He muttered as he saw the amount of dried blood that was all over his bathroom. It didn't take a doctor to know that he had lost more blood
than was healthy. He needed to get out- away from this, away from everything. He reached up and scrubbed away the dried blood on his face. He carried on scrubbing at his face even when all the blood was gone. He scrubbed and scrubbed, hot tears mixing with the soap and water he was using. It was only when his arms, still weak from loss of blood, began to hurt that he stopped.
"What am I?" He asked his reflection. "What?" He whispered, his tears drying. Barely noticing what he was doing, he pulled his shirt back on, smoothing down the sleeves before stepping out of his room. He didn't know where he was going or what he was going to do when he got there. All he knew was that he had to get away, had to get out, out of his own skin if need to, just to get away from the legacy his father had left him - the legacy that had made him who he was.
~@~
Archer was in a foul mood. After visiting Phlox he had been told that he still didn't know the casue of Charles Sr's death and he would inform the captain as soon as he did. That had been nearly 11 hours ago and Archer still hadn't had any news. A sudden beep by his right elbow jolted him out of his dark thoughts.
"Archer here."
"Captain this is Dr. Phlox. I have some news for you."
"I'll be right there." Archer said, jumping out of his seat in his ready room. The doctor's voice came out of the comm.
"There's no need Captain." Came his cheerful voice. "I have no doubt now that Mr. Tucker died a natural death."
"Thank you." Archer said, his voice sounding odd. He switched off the com and sat back down, frowning as he tried to put his finger on the nagging feeling he was having. It came as a shock to Archer when he suddenly reconsidered the feeling.
It was guilt.
"Trip..." Archer said, knowing the guilty feeling in his chest was because he had suspected his best friend of murder. And then there had been Mrs. Tucker's big bombshell. Archer didn't know how to deal with the fact that anyone's own father could do what she said he did. There was only one thing Archer could think of. He had to go and talk to Trip, had to go and get this out in the open with him.
Archer reached Trip's room, missing Trip by mere minutes, though he didn't know that. He pressed the button to override the locks. He had a feeling that Trip didn't want company, but he was going to get it anyway. Archer gave a sharp intake of breath when the door swung open. The room in front of him was in darkness - just as it had been when he had found Charles Sr. He took a slow step forward.
"Computer. Lights." The lights came on and Archer looked around. The whole place was neat and tidy, something that was most odd for Trip. As he looked around his eyes caught sight of a red stain in the bathroom, the door of which was slightly open. Archer stepped into Trip's bathroom and stopped, holding his hand up to his mouth in an effort to stop sick raising to throat. There was blood everywhere. A quick inspection revealed a razor blade.
"Trip, oh Trip, no... please say this isn't what it looks like." He asked the empty room. He stumbled back out and looked around the empty rooms once more. By Trip's bed was a large black book. It seemed to disrupt the picture of neatness he was looking at because people simply didn't really use paper much any more. He reached out a hand and slowly picked up the book, feeling the weight in his hands. He slowly opened the book, his eyes travleling over the pages as he flicked through them. Vague lines jumped out at him. Vague lines of poetry.
"The mask I wear day-by-day, It's hiding the fact that I'm not okay."
He muttered. His eyes fell one another page which had another poem.
"bringing that life back to your heart. along with the pain. for pain is your life"
He whispered in horror. His hands turned just one more page to the last poem in the book. He read it, his eyes widening, before dropping the black book and running out of the room. The book stayed open at the last poem which was only four lines long;
~Like the cuts on my arm
Like the burns on my hand
Like a memory long gone
I will soon fade away~
~@~
The screen illuminated Hoshi's face as she sat by her desk trying to work out the message. Bits were starting to come together but none of it made any sense. Her computer gave a beep and she smiled, realizing it had worked out the other language. That was the theory at least. Hoshi's eyes widened as she translated the message. There among the lines was one word that jumped out at her.
"Tucker? Oh, no." She whispered. She read the message all the way through, noting the few words that had not been translated- most likely names and stood up, her breathing un-even. She had to find the Captain. Before it was too late.
~@~
Trip wandered the corridors in a daze, not knowing where he was going and not really caring. He passed countless crewmen who all said things to him, words of sorrow, of pity and he didn't hear a single word they said. He let his feet guild him, as his mind was busy elsewhere, wandering paths of misery. He stopped and looked around. To his surprise his feet had led him right to the launch bay, shrugging his shoulders he stepped inside and looked around at the cold bay, where the shuttle lay, silent. He looked back and forth between the doors leading to the rest of the ship and the controls that opened the bay doors. Just one little button to press, then just let go... and it would all be over. He slowly moved towards the console, his eyes glued to the tiny button. He climbed up the metal ladder and moved along the gangway, his feet drawn towards the console. Below him the launch bay doors opened and Archer came sprinting in. He skidded to a stop and looked around, hoping to spot Trip. For a second he didn't see him, then his gaze shot upwards and there was Trip. He looked terrible in Archer's view- pale skin and bloodshot eyes.
"Trip?" Archer said, keeping his voice as normal as possible. "What are you doing?" Trip jumped as if he had been stung.
"Cap'n. I'm... just checking out some odd readings." He said. Archer frowned. Archer himself had just come from Engineering and knew that no one there knew where Trip was. The lines of poetry floated back into his head and all his fears returned- fears which he had convinced himself were groundless. His eyes moved over to the control panel Trip was next to. He gave a tiny gasp as pieces slotted together with a dreaded 'click'.
"Trip... No, tell me this isn't what it looks like." He pleaded, looking up at his friend who started back at him, eyes empty.
"Depends. What does this look like?" Trip asked dully.
"It looks like you're about to make a huge mistake." Archer said softly, taking a tiny step towards Trip.
"A mistake?" Trip gave an laugh, empty of all feelings. He looked down at the console, trying to blink away the tears that had suddenly sprung into his eyes.
"You call fixing my problem a mistake?"
"You call fixing your problem killing yourself?" Archer retorted. "Trip, I know how you'll feeling but-"
"You know?" Trip said harshly. "How could YOU possibly know how I feel?" He asked, real bitterness leaking into his voice. Archer paused as he considered Trip's words.
"You're right, I don't know how you feel." He said quietly, his voice holding the tone of defeat.
"I'll probably never know how you feel, but the Trip I know wouldn't do this. The Trip I know is a fighter." Trip's wild eyes looked into Archer's.
"I can't do this." He sobbed. With a gasp he took a step nearer to his death.
"Trip!" Archer screamed, trying to stop his friend. "Trip! God is crying!" Trip paused and looked back at his friend, tears pouring down his face.
"Wh-What did you say?" he asked horsly.
"I said God's crying Trip." Archer repeated. He stepped up the ladder and moved towards Trip, his hands outstretched. Trip curled up into a ball and watched Archer step closer and closer and unable to do anything about it.
"Trip. Please... come here." Archer pleaded, holding out his arms. All it needed was for Trip to move just a centimeter backwards and he would be right on the button which would kill them both. Trip turned his head and stared at Archer his eyes bright and clear despite the tears that had run down them. He slowly moved towards Archer. Just before him he paused and looked at the ground then back up at Archer.
"Help me." He muttered.
"I will, I promise." Archer said as Trip fell into his arms. At first he thought Trip was merely lying quietly then he realized with a sickening feeling that Trip was unconscious. A quick glance showed Archer all the cuts Trip had inflicted on himself.
"Let's get you to the doctor."
~@~
Dr. Phlox lifted the cold hand of Charles Sr and peered at one of the fingers.
"Odd." He muttered. Using some tweezers he carefully removed a small gray computer chip from under the forefinger finger nail.
"Doctor!" Archer screamed, rushing into sickbay, Trip in his arms. The chip, along with everything else was forgotten as he went over to Trip.
~@~
Archer paced up and down outside sickbay waiting for Dr. Phlox to tell him something. Hoshi rushed up to him, out of breath.
"Captain!" she gasped. "I have some news for you. It's about that message. I've worked it out... there's something in it you should hear." Archer looked over at her, glad to be able to focus on something besides Trip.
"What is it Hoshi?"
"Basically Sir?" She asked, prolonging her moment. At Archer's nod she took a deep breath, with the air of someone about to drop a bombshell.
"Charles Sr might not be as dead as he would like us to think."
TBC...
The poems used are;
The first poem is "Cold Inside" by me (Sethoz) and the full version can be found at:
The second poem is "6 Ways to Look at a Scar" by HopefulNebula and the full version can be found at:
The last poem is "Fade" by Invader and the full version can be found at:
Please, please leave a review and check out the poems, they're very good!
Here, you all go, another teaser for the next part.
"You mean, I have to... kill Trip?" Archer asked, his voice dull. Phlox looked at him, then slowly nodded.
Coming Soon... Part 9: Above all things, Love.
Sethoz-Chan