Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. This story is for entertainment purposes only.
Author's note: Special thanks to my beta readers: gaianarchy and silvershadowfire. Thanks for catching all those 3am screwups, guys. The rest of you, please R&R. Just to let me know what you think.
Chapter 6: Light and Shadow pt 1
Make it go away, or make it better
Isn't that what love's supposed to do
Make it go away, or make it better
'Cause I would do either one for you…
--- Holly Cole
They barely made it to the next corridor before the next interruption hit.
"What the hell is going on here?" Daniels – fully dressed and fully angry – strode quickly down the hallway. One hand held a pad and the other curled into a fist.
"Oh, hell." Trip muttered. "I knew I should've used duct tape." He would have too, had he had any on him.
{Um. That's not the same one.} Toby seemed to be having no trouble adapting to the possibility of multiple universes. Maybe death gave you insights that you couldn't handle while alive. Then again, this was Toby -- it could be anything.
"And you know this how?" It certainly looked like Daniels – though Jonathan did look like Archer, even if he didn't act like him – and Trip himself would be angry enough in the Temporal Agent's shoes… or lack thereof as the case may be.
{Because I just left the other one naked and not tied up in the closet about two seconds ago. I am checking on things like that, you know. I mean it's not like you did a wonderful job of securing him, but it looks like without his gadgets he's no good at getting out of anywhere. Not like you… all that stuff about Eric Weiss was pretty cool, huh? And you thought I was just weird.}
"I still think you're weird, Toby." Yeah, Houdini had been cool all right. He'd learned his best break-and-enter trick from that guy, or at least from reading how someone nearly defeated him. Always check and make sure the door is locked, first.
And if, it's open wonder why. Okay, so he'd been caught once or twice on that one – did Inner-Charles always have to remind him?
"Who's Toby? What are you doing? You aren't supposed to be here… you can't be here… it's impossible." This Daniels had a harder time keeping up. Even Jonathan seemed to be adjusting better than this, though maybe he'd had more time.
Trip looked at Jonathan, who ignored him. Okay, be that way, asshole. He'd handle this himself, then. Unless Kaci wanted to jump in again, which would be okay too. He let his body sag in a gesture of defeat, drawing Daniels in closer.
Bang. Trip's elbow slammed straight upward into Daniels' chin. While the smaller man was still stunned, Trip followed up with a roundhouse to the temple. So Hess kept telling him that roundhouses were stupid… he didn't have time to learn any of her tricks. Anyway, this one did the job, because Daniels slumped to the deck, unconscious.
"If this keeps up, we're going to run out of storage closets." With Kaci's help, he stripped this one down too. He grabbed their latest prisoner under the armpits, dragged him to another set of quarters. Keeping in mind Toby's advice, he sacrificed some of his wiring to bind Daniels' wrists and ankles. Then, he not only locked the door, but also ripped out the circuitry afterwards. "Try and get out of there, asshole."
Adrenaline drained down again, taking with it some of his earlier hostility. Other shoe just dropped, and I avoided it. Not that it was liable be the last one; he had an idea that this could go on for awhile. An infinite number of universes all tangling up in one point. What, he wondered, would constitute critical mass in a case like this? At what point did everything explode, or implode, or whatever it was going to do?
"I thought you said you didn't hit people." Jonathan sounded snarky, almost childish.
"Self-defence." Maybe Daniels hadn't thrown a punch, but the threat had been there in the voice. And given that every other person they'd run into – with the sole exception of Jonathan, who'd thought Trip was someone else – had at some point tried to kill or otherwise hinder him… "Once is an anomaly, twice is coincidence, three is the start of a pattern."
"Sounds like you've got an excuse for everything."
Anger welled up again. "Look. We can either declare a truce, right here, right now, or you can pick a room, because I'm running out of patience and trust." He pointed over at Kaci. "She gets it. There are no rules here; you've got to make your own. And since I seem to be the guy in charge, I'm the one who gets to make them."
"I'm the captain."
"Not as far as I'm concerned. As far as I'm concerned, you haven't got the guts for the job."
Jonathan clenched his fist, swung. It wasn't a good punch – clearly, he didn't have a lot of experience on that end of things – and Trip dodged to the side easily, then stopped. Maybe an object lesson will be good. He'd learned this one from one of his old high-school friends. One try and it had stuck.
Jonathan swung again, and again Trip dodged, staying only inches out of reach. A few basics that Hess had tried to instil came back, and he gently blocked the next few attacks, never striking back. With every avoided punch, he felt calmer, more in control. I'm not going to hurt you, because I don't want to have to hurt you. He didn't need Jonathan out of the way like Daniels, and he wasn't holding a weapon, like Malcolm had been.
He knew what inevitably would happen, just wasn't sure when it would. It had only taken him a few missed hits to figure it out -- Jonathan was either angrier or a slower learner. Or maybe it's just the possibility of getting some of his own back. That worked too, especially if he realised that Charles would have no knowledge, no way of seeking revenge.
Finally though, Jonathan ran out of steam and stood panting and glaring at an untouched Trip. Just like Trip had done all those years ago.
"You calmed down again? Or should we go another round?" Nathan's words to Trip, and now Trip's to Jonathan.
Jonathan said nothing, just stared and shook his head.
"Okay. Good." Trip felt relief at the response; some of those shots had come awfully close.
"What…the hell… was that?" Jonathan finally regained his voice, but not his breath.
"You wanted a fight -- I didn't want to get hurt. I also didn't want to hurt you back. I probably could hurt you, but I don't want to. It's called control." He didn't bother telling Jonathan what Nathan had told him: that he'd been controlling both of them. Every block, every opportunity to strike not taken forced the aggressor into a different direction, physically and mentally. "I had it, you didn't, and that's why I won. And you didn't lose."
He gave Jonathan a few moments to wrap his thoughts around the idea. It had taken Trip a lot longer to figure out even pieces of it; he didn't have near the talent for it Nathan had. Then again, even at sixteen Nathan had been the most in control son-of-a-bitch Trip had ever met. He could probably outdo T'Pol on that.
And I always thought that win-win was an illusion. No matter what the game, there was a victor and a defeated. It had been Nathan who'd taught him that sometimes the best way was not to play to win, but simply not to lose.
Of course. Another strategy began to form in his mind, a way out of this mess. Long term, admittedly, which meant he still had to focus on the situation in front of him. Just like football. One play at a time.
"You aren't like Charles. He'd have come back after that first punch and ended it. It's one of his favourite sayings: 'Put the son-of-a-bitch down, and make sure he never gets up.'" Jonathan extended his right hand, a gesture of apology.
Trip took it. "In the appropriate circumstances, that works. Like if the other guy really is going to do you damage. I didn't think that's what you wanted." It had been a risk, if Jonathan really had been out to get him… "It took me forever to figure that out, myself."
Jonathan shook his head again, but this time a smile began to form. "Big chance you took."
Trip shrugged. "I've taken bigger. It's one of the reasons everybody thinks I'm crazy. I run a lot on instinct. I also tend to use a lot more right-brain logic."
"What?" The sudden left turn seemed to leave Jonathan in the dust.
He explained. "I had a programming teacher in high-school who dreaded the thought of me going on to higher-level stuff. He would look at my programs and swear up down and sideways that they wouldn't work, and they always did." Gina identified it further, saying that if a computer understood the process, then it had to be logical, even if other people didn't get it. "Since generally the logic centres are on the left side of the brain, I figure mine's coming from the right/creative side."
"You know, that is probably the most 'right-brained-logic' explanation of anything I've ever heard. I don't think I understood a word of it." Now Jonathan sounded like Archer: that dry humour response to one of Trip's wild statements.
Trip burst out laughing; familiarity felt good. "See? And people wonder why I have communication problems. Actually, though, I heard that's what made the difference in Einstein – he had a massive amount of connections between his right and left brain, about twice as many as normal. Nobody understood him, either."
"So what? Now you think you're a genius?" Jonathan arched an eyebrow, clearly not believing.
"Hey. I could be. You could be looking at the reincarnation of Gianlorenzo Bernini here, for all you know." Trip knew he'd cause Jonathan's brain to throw a track on that one, hardly anyone remembered Bernini.
"Who?"
"Gianlorenzo Bernini. 1598-1680. He pretty much created the whole Baroque sculpture style; he also designed St. Peter's square and the colonnade. My mom wanted me to be an architect, and I fell in love with his work." He wasn't sure why Bernini in particular, and not the better knowns like Michaelangelo, or even DaVinci. Just… "Maybe it's the way some of his structures are so awe inspiring. You don't look at it and say 'Oh, pretty.' You look at it and feel humble."
And anyone who can humble the great Trip Tucker is a master indeed.
"It must be something else." Jonathan's sentiments echoed Inner-Charles'. "Charles is an artist – that's one of the things that attracted me to him at first – he draws everything."
Trip shrugged. "I don't do it so much, anymore. Photography, yeah, but with days like this, I just don't have time to sit down and draw and do it justice. What with days like this, I'm lucky if I find time to click a shutter." He missed it -- now that he thought about it -- time just spent alone with paper and charcoal, creating something out of nothing.
Jonathan drew a finger across Trip's cheek, a light, gentle caress. "You should work on that. Make some time." His hand dropped and he seemed to collect himself. "But right now, I think we should get going." He suited action to words and headed off down the hall again.
Okay. Trip looked to Kaci for support, but she had nothing to say. "Not a word of this when things get back to normal, all right? We'll just keep it to ourselves…" He didn't know how to end it. He spoke softly, so Jonathan couldn't hear, didn't want to hurt the guy's feelings. Not that I've got anything against that sort of thing, but it's just not me.
Thankfully, Kaci nodded. Good. Because if the Engineering crew ever found out… It wasn't Bryson and Higgens he was concerned about. If Hess ever finds out you got flustered, she's never going to let you live it down. Hess. The closest he'd ever come to matching Toby, personality wise. He'd taken a lot of flak for insisting on her over more experienced officers, but he'd stood his ground, unable to think of leaving her behind. Sure, they fought over things, but he hadn't wanted a sycophant. I need someone to question my decisions from time to time, just to make sure I'm on the right track. Not only that, but she could read his handwriting.
{Now her, I like.} Yeah, Toby would like Hess, if only because of Hess' tendency to put Trip in his place. {You're looking to save this Jonathan guy, aren't you?}
"Save?" When had that come up? They were all in the same danger, weren't they?
{Like I did with you, idiot. Well, Nathan helped, but you never would have met him if I hadn't pulled you out of your self-imposed little exile. You think there's hope for that guy if he starts thinking for himself, don't you?}
Trip blinked. He hadn't thought of that, but it fit. Trust Toby to put it together. "I don't know. Maybe I feel some responsibility for him, since my doppelganger helped screw him up."
{You might want to quit talking like that… you're going to scare people.} Toby grinned, began skipping along beside him. {You're only supposed to know one syllable words and technobabble. Trip Tucker doesn't know German.}
"Trip Tucker knows horror movies. It's a classic character, one of the crazies."
"What?" Jonathan had dropped back do join them, caught the last bit. "One of the crazy what?"
What the hell, it felt good to be having a conversation again about something other than life and death. "Haven't you ever noticed that all the classic horror movie characters are metaphors for things we don't want to talk about?" Toby was right on one thing, this was a discussion that would blow Malcolm and his 'Americans read nothing but comic books' right out of the water. "Mental illness is a big one. Go ahead, pick a character, and I'll match it up."
"Okay." Jonathan seemed willing to go along with this game, possibly intrigued by the subject, possibly just by the fact that the dissertation was Trip's. "Vampires… Dracula."
"Too easy." Trip smirked. "Psychopaths. No soul, no conscience. Highly charming and seductive – both classic descriptions of a psychopathic personality – but no remorse about any of it."
"Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde."
Trip groaned. "Give me something a little challenging, will you? Dissociative Identity Disorder. Two personalities, one body, and neither one knows what the other is up to except by reading the others' journals."
"I thought that it was schizophrenia."
"No. Schizophrenia is closer to Dr. Frankenstein than Dr. Jekyll. Believe me, I know. Schizophrenia with obsessions."
"Wasn't Frankenstein a zombie?" Well, there was a mistake Archer would never make. Not in dealing with a fanatic like Trip. In fact, Trip was sure Archer had done some side research just to keep up.
"No. Frankenstein was the doctor. The monster was only referred to as 'The Creature'. He never got a name. Hollywood screwed it up later." The movies might be Trip's favourites, but he was a purist. "Zombies, on the other hand, it's not quite catatonia, more like a severe dissociative state. No conscious thought exists."
"Wow." Clearly Jonathan had never considered the depth possible in horror movies before. "And I thought it was all about… well… scaring people."
"And nothing's scarier than what we don't understand. And nobody understands crazy, but we're all afraid it's somehow catching." Which was ridiculous; but still the prejudice held.
"I suppose you've even got one for werewolves, right?"
Trip's expression darkened. "Oh,yeah. How the hell do you think people explained Bi-polar?"
Jonathan started to apologise, realising he'd opened a touch subject again.
Trip held up a hand. "It's okay. I started it." He sighed. "It's all there, though. The cycles, the superhuman strength, bizarre animalistic behaviour… At the start of the disease the incidences are spread far enough apart that most people think it's mood swings, or they don't connect them. Without treatment… Have you ever heard of the term rapid cycling?"
Jonathan shook his head.
"It's a latter stage. Manic and depressive stages start to come even faster. Like the full-moon thing with a werewolf. Instead of maybe one or two episodes a year, you can end up with one or two episodes a month." Last he'd heard, James was at that point, and self-medicating with alcohol. That had been six months before they left -- for all he knew, his brother was dead by now. He'd told his family that he didn't want more news of James; that it hurt too much.
Jonathan looked impressed. "You sound like you could've been a psychologist instead of an engineer."
"No way." Trip crossed his arms defensively, pulling in. "I've had enough up close and personal experience for several lifetimes. I know it can't be fixed, so I'm not crazy enough to try."
"Not like engineering." Jonathan nodded, understanding. "Where you can just swap out a part or re-write a line of code, and the problem's gone."
"A little simplistic, but yeah." Trip stared off into the distance, thinking. "I like my problems more concrete. You can't rewire the human brain."
"Mmn."
The rest of the journey to Engineering passed without interruption; Jonathan seemed more concerned than relieved.
"Well, we are dealing with billions and billions of universes here," Trip reasoned, "And if you look at all the trouble we had getting NX out here, then there must be even more where – for some reason or another – it never happened at all. And I don't see them as being stacked up alongside each other so that only the nearby ones blend at first. It's more like…" He searched for an image, some way to describe the picture that emerged in his brain, "… spaghetti. Everything's all tangled up together in one big mass, and it's all starting to mush together, but you don't know what's combining with what at this point."
"And you know this, how?" Sceptical was the only word to describe Jonathan's look, and Trip couldn't blame him. But he wasn't going to confess breaking through a security seal in the name of research.
Yeah, that'll sound good. "I broke into a place that you specifically and clearly told me was 'off limits' with 'absolutely no exceptions' and read a bunch of things I had no right seeing, and that you forbid me to access, in no uncertain terms." On the other hand, he hadn't understood much of it, he felt like Leonardo DaVinci – brilliant as he was – looking over the plans for a warp reactor. He'd figured out enough though, to give him a basic handle on things.
So at least you can get an idea when Daniels is handing you a snow job.
Had that been his motivation? I thought I was just curious. He grinned, coming up with an answer that wasn't, and that even Jonathan would know was a fake. "H.G. Wells. Man was a genius." He moved away from Jonathan, a grin twitching at his lips.
"Uh, huh." Jonathan didn't push it; his eyes twinkled with humour. "I suppose next you're going to tell me that you learned programming from Isaac Asimov."
Trip cracked up. "Well, I was going to say Jules Verne. But yeah, Asimov's as good an answer as any."
"I suppose if I order you, you're going to plead the fifth."
You can't order me. Things were going too well to say it though; instead he let the grin spread a little wider. "Yup. Definitely on the grounds that it may incriminate me." He bent back down over his work, hoping Jonathan wouldn't see the flush creeping across his face. Why was he so embarrassed about something that everybody knew he did? Not the details of course – it would be instant court-martial if the brass knew everything he'd done – but the fact that he was a break and enter artist.
"You're a bad boy, Trip." Jonathan shook a finger at him, but stayed smiling.
"Mischievous." Am I flirting? It certainly felt like it: the familiar give and take banter; the verbal joust. He dismissed the thought; it just didn't work. We're just acting like friends. He hoped Jonathan saw it that way and didn't mistake friendly conversation for something more.
"Um hmn." Fortunately the conversation thread stopped there. Jonathan seemed content to work on the assignments Trip gave him. Still, every now and then the older man glanced his way, as though looking for something.
… … … … … … …
Hours passed; repair work moved slowly, too slowly for Trip's comfort. He found himself skipping things, then having to go back to fix them. Once he even found himself working on a repair he'd just finished. His mood worsened with every error, until he found himself barking at even the smallest interruption.
"Look...." Jonathan spread his hands in a gesture of peace as Trip snarled. "…maybe we just need some rest. It's been a long day, especially for you."
"We may not have time to rest," Trip snapped, "and I've probably had more sleep than the rest of you combined." He bent back to his work, swearing as he missed a connection and dripped solder on his fingers.
Jonathan took Trip's shoulders and eased him away from the panel. "It hasn't been enough, Trip. Not with what you've been through. You need rest. We all do." He spoke in low, soothing tones. "I know you want to fix everything, make it all better, but you're not going to be able to do that if you can't think straight. You're just as likely to blow us up as save us."
"I know what I'm doing." Any decent engineer could do these repairs in his sleep; he didn't need to think clearly. He tried to shake Jonathan off, but the older man's grip -- though gentle -- remained strong.
"I know you do, Trip. You're the best. But you're only human and you need your sleep." Tenderly Jonathan reached down and removed the soldering gun from Trip's unresisting hand. "We'll take turns keeping watch, just to make sure nothing happens. If there's a problem, we'll wake you. I promise. Please?"
Realising that any further protest would be futile, Trip allowed himself to be led into a corner. Jonathan folded up one of the discarded jackets for use as a pillow, promising again to wake Trip if any problems arose.
"You better." Trip sank down to the floor, his body gratefully accepting his surrender. After all, it wouldn't be long -- they'd wake him up soon.