Title: "My Brother's Keeper"
Spoilers: Similitude
Disclaimer: Paramount, etc. own the rights to these characters and the show. I make no money and have no plan to make any from this story. My only agenda is warmth for the soul.
Author's notes: There were a few discussions about it being unlikely that memories could be passed on to a clone. However, we are dealing with science fiction and an alien entity that was injected with human DNA. Let us all remember that in sci-fi the limits are boundless.
***** PART ONE
The corridor was empty. The door at the end of the hall beckoned him. But he found he could not move.
The window in that door was there, he supposed, to possibly alert the person inside someone was coming. But at this moment, 2345 hours, it was a spyglass for him.
Lurking in the shadows, of the simulated late night of the dimly lit corridor, he was restless by what compelled him to be there.
The dreams were fragmented with people and places familiar to him, yet in a strange way not. The visual and emotional effects bled into his waking hours hauntingly surfacing at times with varying degrees of unsettling feelings.
Although he could not be certain, he was almost sure they all were rooted in one incident. And beyond those doors lie the answers to questions he did not want to ask, but had to.
*****
The door slid open causing his head to shoot up from the microscope he had been peering into. Doctor Phlox knew whatever brought one to sickbay at this hour was usually urgent or quite troublesome to wait until morning.
"Commander Tucker?" Phlox's greeting was inquiring.
"Hey, Doc." Commander Charles "Trip" Tucker III replied.
"Not having trouble getting to sleep, are you?"
"Oh, no, no." Trip quickly answered.
"Headaches?" Phlox's deepening concern was evident on his face.
"Actually, no again." Tucker smiled now. "I meant ta tell ya they subsided when ya said they would and disappeared all together last week."
"Glad to hear it." Phlox beamed.
Brain surgery was never going to become routine, or an outpatient procedure. No matter the alien technology or advancements made, it would always be risky.
"Uh, I guess you're wonderin' why I'm here, then?" Trip finally said.
"At this hour you should be in bed." The doctor admonished. "You are still recuperating. It's only been three weeks."
"Yeah," Trip sighed. "Seems longer some days and then others like it was yesterday. The accident, and the...services."
Phlox nodded in agreement averting his eyes from the mention of the funeral for Sim. He had been surprised how much this whole incident upset him. He could never have imagined a mere days' existence could leave a lifetime void and emptiness behind. But he had raised Sim from a baby to a man. In that regard, quality over quantity was the key factor.
As Phlox returned his attention to the commander, he noticed Tucker looking off toward the room where Sim had slept once he was past the toddler stage. Perhaps the man surmised that would be where Sim would have lived, but a strange feeling began to creep into his being.
"Commander?" Phlox questioned. "What is it?"
Trip ran his hand over the nape of his neck several times. Back and forth his hand tried to scrub the thoughts...no, memories from his mind. He looked up at the doctor with sorrowful eyes.
"I think I'm goin' crazy, Doc." Tucker's voice quivered. "Maybe I'm havin' some sorta breakdown, or rejectin' this tissue..."
Instinctively, Phlox moved forward and took Tucker by the shoulders not roughly but firmly.
"Come and sit down." The doctor advised as he turned and guided the upset man toward a biobed.
Trip hopped up onto the bed, placing his hands on his knees and drawing in a deep breath. Phlox stood right in front of him, his hands still on the commander's shoulders.
"That's it." Phlox's soothing tone praised. It was not his professional voice, but that of genuine comfort and concern. "It's all right."
"Is it?" Trip asked in desperation. "I keep havin' these dreams and then when I'm awake they just invade my mind. I'm havin' a hard time concentratin' on work and..."
Phlox released his grip on Tucker and leaned against the bed next to the commander. The doctor placed a hand on the human's back and began to rub up and down slowly.
[FLASH]
Soothing circular motions against his back, helping him slow his breath. He was staring down at his feet, tiny little shoes dangling freely over the biobed. No, not his back, not his feet. Couldn't be his tiny little shoes, he was never a child aboard Enterprise.
[END FLASH]
"The petrie dish..." Trip's muffled voice whispered breathlessly. "It crashed to the floor and broke. S--scared. W--wasn't supposed to play ball in sickbay."
Phlox stopped rubbing Tucker's back, pulling his hand back as if he was stung by something. He was, those words the commander was saying. Sim had been told not to play ball in sickbay numerous times in one day. But the four year old was getting restless being confined there and when the doctor had gone into his office the child had tried the soccer moves Lieutenant Reed had showed him earlier that day.
Bouncing the ball off his head it sailed through the air and crashed onto the counter. Phlox had bolted back into the room to see the child holding the ball, tears streaming down his face. Thinking the child had been hurt, the doctor had slapped the ball out of the little boy's hands and scooped him up onto a biobed to examine him.
Finding the boy unharmed, except for the fright, Phlox had begun to try and soothe the weeping child and tell him everything was going to be all right.
"Commander?" Phlox managed to say. "What do you know?"
"Know?" Confusion filled Tucker's tone. "I--I don't know. I feel things and see things. In my dreams, when I'm awake. Am I crazy, Doc?"
"What type of feelings, thoughts?" Phlox was now back in front of Tucker with a piercing gaze as if he could see those things in the man's eyes.
"Doc?" Trip questioned with a tinge of fear. Why was Phlox looking at him that way? Was he crazy or having some sort of reaction to the procedure?
"Calm yourself, Commander." Phlox again placed his hands on Tucker's shoulders. "You are not going crazy, that I am sure of. Now, tell me what else you feel and see."
The minutes passed as Trip recounted again the soccer ball incident and others. By the time the hour reached 0120 he was yawning and rubbing his eyes.
"What does it all mean, Doc?" Trip asked through a yawn.
Phlox had perched next to the commander on the bed. He now searched his lap for words.
"It means a great many things, Commander." Phlox announced. "Not in the least is that life is not ours to give and take. But that knowing what I know now, if the fates chose to present me again with your fatal injury...I would indeed save you at all cost."
The realization evident on Tucker's face was not surprising. Even though he had come here seemingly in utter darkness over his experiences, he had to know.
"They're his memories, aren't they?"
Phlox cocked his head and peered up at Tucker now. The question was almost accusing.
"I can't explain it." The doctor offered. "Just as I couldn't explain how Sim carried your memories and experiences."
"God!" Trip leapt off the bed, whirling around to face off with Phlox. "He was alive! He was part of me and now I'm part of him. But only because he willingly gave his life for me! Oh, wait. How could I forget, he only willingly gave his life up because he felt that was what he was meant to do! Because the cap'n made him see it that way!"
"Commander," Phlox moved to his side. "You're not fully informed of all that went on..."
"I know 'nough!" Trip began to pace the sickbay.
"You only know what you have sensed." The doctor shadowed the agitated commander. "You need to calm down..."
"I need to get outta here!"
As he watched Tucker bolt from the room, Phlox knew going after him was pointless. The commander did not want to hear anymore from him. He reached for the companel.
"Sickbay to Captain Archer."
TBC
Spoilers: Similitude
Disclaimer: Paramount, etc. own the rights to these characters and the show. I make no money and have no plan to make any from this story. My only agenda is warmth for the soul.
Author's notes: There were a few discussions about it being unlikely that memories could be passed on to a clone. However, we are dealing with science fiction and an alien entity that was injected with human DNA. Let us all remember that in sci-fi the limits are boundless.
***** PART ONE
The corridor was empty. The door at the end of the hall beckoned him. But he found he could not move.
The window in that door was there, he supposed, to possibly alert the person inside someone was coming. But at this moment, 2345 hours, it was a spyglass for him.
Lurking in the shadows, of the simulated late night of the dimly lit corridor, he was restless by what compelled him to be there.
The dreams were fragmented with people and places familiar to him, yet in a strange way not. The visual and emotional effects bled into his waking hours hauntingly surfacing at times with varying degrees of unsettling feelings.
Although he could not be certain, he was almost sure they all were rooted in one incident. And beyond those doors lie the answers to questions he did not want to ask, but had to.
*****
The door slid open causing his head to shoot up from the microscope he had been peering into. Doctor Phlox knew whatever brought one to sickbay at this hour was usually urgent or quite troublesome to wait until morning.
"Commander Tucker?" Phlox's greeting was inquiring.
"Hey, Doc." Commander Charles "Trip" Tucker III replied.
"Not having trouble getting to sleep, are you?"
"Oh, no, no." Trip quickly answered.
"Headaches?" Phlox's deepening concern was evident on his face.
"Actually, no again." Tucker smiled now. "I meant ta tell ya they subsided when ya said they would and disappeared all together last week."
"Glad to hear it." Phlox beamed.
Brain surgery was never going to become routine, or an outpatient procedure. No matter the alien technology or advancements made, it would always be risky.
"Uh, I guess you're wonderin' why I'm here, then?" Trip finally said.
"At this hour you should be in bed." The doctor admonished. "You are still recuperating. It's only been three weeks."
"Yeah," Trip sighed. "Seems longer some days and then others like it was yesterday. The accident, and the...services."
Phlox nodded in agreement averting his eyes from the mention of the funeral for Sim. He had been surprised how much this whole incident upset him. He could never have imagined a mere days' existence could leave a lifetime void and emptiness behind. But he had raised Sim from a baby to a man. In that regard, quality over quantity was the key factor.
As Phlox returned his attention to the commander, he noticed Tucker looking off toward the room where Sim had slept once he was past the toddler stage. Perhaps the man surmised that would be where Sim would have lived, but a strange feeling began to creep into his being.
"Commander?" Phlox questioned. "What is it?"
Trip ran his hand over the nape of his neck several times. Back and forth his hand tried to scrub the thoughts...no, memories from his mind. He looked up at the doctor with sorrowful eyes.
"I think I'm goin' crazy, Doc." Tucker's voice quivered. "Maybe I'm havin' some sorta breakdown, or rejectin' this tissue..."
Instinctively, Phlox moved forward and took Tucker by the shoulders not roughly but firmly.
"Come and sit down." The doctor advised as he turned and guided the upset man toward a biobed.
Trip hopped up onto the bed, placing his hands on his knees and drawing in a deep breath. Phlox stood right in front of him, his hands still on the commander's shoulders.
"That's it." Phlox's soothing tone praised. It was not his professional voice, but that of genuine comfort and concern. "It's all right."
"Is it?" Trip asked in desperation. "I keep havin' these dreams and then when I'm awake they just invade my mind. I'm havin' a hard time concentratin' on work and..."
Phlox released his grip on Tucker and leaned against the bed next to the commander. The doctor placed a hand on the human's back and began to rub up and down slowly.
[FLASH]
Soothing circular motions against his back, helping him slow his breath. He was staring down at his feet, tiny little shoes dangling freely over the biobed. No, not his back, not his feet. Couldn't be his tiny little shoes, he was never a child aboard Enterprise.
[END FLASH]
"The petrie dish..." Trip's muffled voice whispered breathlessly. "It crashed to the floor and broke. S--scared. W--wasn't supposed to play ball in sickbay."
Phlox stopped rubbing Tucker's back, pulling his hand back as if he was stung by something. He was, those words the commander was saying. Sim had been told not to play ball in sickbay numerous times in one day. But the four year old was getting restless being confined there and when the doctor had gone into his office the child had tried the soccer moves Lieutenant Reed had showed him earlier that day.
Bouncing the ball off his head it sailed through the air and crashed onto the counter. Phlox had bolted back into the room to see the child holding the ball, tears streaming down his face. Thinking the child had been hurt, the doctor had slapped the ball out of the little boy's hands and scooped him up onto a biobed to examine him.
Finding the boy unharmed, except for the fright, Phlox had begun to try and soothe the weeping child and tell him everything was going to be all right.
"Commander?" Phlox managed to say. "What do you know?"
"Know?" Confusion filled Tucker's tone. "I--I don't know. I feel things and see things. In my dreams, when I'm awake. Am I crazy, Doc?"
"What type of feelings, thoughts?" Phlox was now back in front of Tucker with a piercing gaze as if he could see those things in the man's eyes.
"Doc?" Trip questioned with a tinge of fear. Why was Phlox looking at him that way? Was he crazy or having some sort of reaction to the procedure?
"Calm yourself, Commander." Phlox again placed his hands on Tucker's shoulders. "You are not going crazy, that I am sure of. Now, tell me what else you feel and see."
The minutes passed as Trip recounted again the soccer ball incident and others. By the time the hour reached 0120 he was yawning and rubbing his eyes.
"What does it all mean, Doc?" Trip asked through a yawn.
Phlox had perched next to the commander on the bed. He now searched his lap for words.
"It means a great many things, Commander." Phlox announced. "Not in the least is that life is not ours to give and take. But that knowing what I know now, if the fates chose to present me again with your fatal injury...I would indeed save you at all cost."
The realization evident on Tucker's face was not surprising. Even though he had come here seemingly in utter darkness over his experiences, he had to know.
"They're his memories, aren't they?"
Phlox cocked his head and peered up at Tucker now. The question was almost accusing.
"I can't explain it." The doctor offered. "Just as I couldn't explain how Sim carried your memories and experiences."
"God!" Trip leapt off the bed, whirling around to face off with Phlox. "He was alive! He was part of me and now I'm part of him. But only because he willingly gave his life for me! Oh, wait. How could I forget, he only willingly gave his life up because he felt that was what he was meant to do! Because the cap'n made him see it that way!"
"Commander," Phlox moved to his side. "You're not fully informed of all that went on..."
"I know 'nough!" Trip began to pace the sickbay.
"You only know what you have sensed." The doctor shadowed the agitated commander. "You need to calm down..."
"I need to get outta here!"
As he watched Tucker bolt from the room, Phlox knew going after him was pointless. The commander did not want to hear anymore from him. He reached for the companel.
"Sickbay to Captain Archer."
TBC