Disclaimer: These are not my characters. This story is for entertainment purposes only.
Author's Note: Stuff between these is from Jonathan's point of view.
Chapter 7: The Rules of Stubborn
Don't like being told what to do
--- Trooper
"Tucker? Charles Tucker the Third?" The man's delight increased as Trip spoke. A surprising change, but -- if Trip's suspicions were correct -- hardly a welcome one.
"No, sorry. Bad case of mistaken identity." He could sense the others looking at him and not one of them with a clue as to what was going on. Except for Toby who knew exactly what this was all about, and was laughing her ass off. Little witch.
The man looked down at the card, then up at Trip.
"Trust me." Trip pointed at the card. "That man is an impostor. I have no idea how he came to be using my name, or why we look so similar, but that is most definitely not me." Hopefully this man had no way of detecting Toby, because she laughed harder. And I didn't think that was possible.
"Please. Just allow me to introduce myself, Mr. Tucker. My name is Benjamin Sisko, and…"
"…and you're from the future. Thank you very much… I've already heard… it was nice to meet you… now goodbye." Trip looked for a way out that didn't put him too near Sisko. This man was more than an interfering nuisance, he was a fan.
"Yes, I'm from the future, but…"
"Like I said, I already got the lecture. Not supposed to be here… destruction of the universe… blah, blah, blah… You know, frankly I'm getting sick and tired of people thinking that I'm a slow learner."
Sisko turned to Jonathan instead. "Have you any idea who this man is?" Oh yes, definitely a fan.
Jonathan shook his head. "I guess not. I thought he was chief engineer of Enterprise. Are you saying he's someone else?"
Score one for the home team. Either Jonathan was incredibly dense, or – like Archer on occasion – incredibly sarcastic.
"This," Sisko pointed to Trip, "is one of the greatest pitchers in the entire history of baseball. Ninety percent of his games were wins. He had a consistent 100-110 pitch…"
"Miles per hour." Trip clarified, not bothering to fight anymore. "About 160-175 kilometres per hour."
"… and pitched three perfect games in a row."
"My last ones. I figured I might as well make it a good finish." He leaned back against the wall and rolled his eyes. Just his luck, somewhere along the line he had to run into a baseball nut.
"Not only that," Sisko warmed to his lecture, putting his arm around Jonathan's shoulders and gesturing towards Trip as though showing Jonathan a work of art. "You've heard the term 'switch hitter', right?"
"He means baseball." Sisko's words had set Toby off on another set of the giggles, which was something that Trip's head didn't need right now. "Can bat left or right, depending on the pitcher."
"Well, Mr. Tucker here was a – for lack of a better term – 'switch pitcher'."
"He means I could throw almost as well with my left as with my right." Okay, so most people couldn't, that still didn't make him a god.
Except to the nutballs. After all, statistics never lie. Inner-Charles didn't like it any more than Trip.
"He could've gone on to anything. Had a top athletic scholarship, pros scouting him, the works. And then one day he just quit -- disappeared off the sensors. Nobody could figure out why, or where he'd gone to."
Trip waved. "Right here. I ran away and joined the circus. God. It's not like I changed my name or anything." And people wonder why I quit… "Look. I'm sure you didn't come all the way here just to get an autograph -- no matter how good you think I might have been. So what's your story?"
"Not one you'd believe." Sisko's smile disappeared.
"Try me." After all, he'd left ten impossible things in the dust hours ago. How impossible could Sisko's story be?
Sisko told him.
"You're right. I don't believe it. You're telling me that you're some 'Chosen One' who can go backward and forward to any point in history -- that it's all one moment in time to you, and that you still have no idea what's going on." Great. Bad enough to be dealing with people who thought they knew about the past -- now he had a messianic baseball-nut without a clue on his hands. "So. Which would you prefer? Storage closet or crew quarters? I can fix you up in either."
"Excuse me?" Apparently Sisko didn't know everything because he seemed completely ignorant as to the fate of his forerunners.
"I've taken to locking people up. You, I'm giving a choice. Where's it going to be?"
"Mr. Tucker…" The look Sisko gave him clearly said You're crazy.
"Don't 'Mr. Tucker' me. I'm sick and tired of being 'Mr. Tuckered', and 'Commandered' and being told that I haven't got a fucking clue what I'm doing." Trip's patience shattered -- again. That had been one of the reasons he'd quit baseball – not a big one, but one of them – the fact that he didn't relate well to strangers who acted like they knew him. Nobody knows me. Not even Archer -- the closest thing he had to a best friend -- knew him that well. The Trip Tucker that Archer knew was the Trip Tucker of the present: the person he had been at and had become since that first meeting. Even Archer didn't know about Toby and she was the single biggest influence in Trip's life. Without her, there would be no me.
"So stay the fuck out of my way, because I swear to God, the next person who tells me I don't know what I'm doing, is going to find out just how little of a future they actually have." He pointed the spanner at Sisko. "And that includes you, Mister Chosen One."
{You're actually planning to kill a major figure of an alien planet's religion? That is so cool!} Only Toby could find the prospect of homicide amusing. It was the over the top part – he realised – the fact that he'd just threatened a… well… god?
Small 'g' of course.
Naturally. You don't want to get in too far over your head.
Sisko muttered something Trip couldn't quite catch, but sounded like "…stubborn engineers…" Then he spoke more loudly. "It's your choice. I can't make you do anything…"
"Goddamn right you can't."
"…But I would appreciate it if you didn't lock me up. For one thing, it would be futile. For another: I promise to stay out of your way. I just want to know one thing."
Oh. Something else the godling didn't know? "What's that?"
"Why did you quit?" Sisko seemed genuinely puzzled, like anyone else who thought that with greatness came obsession. That with the truly gifted came a love for the gift.
"I hated it." Trip knew Sisko wouldn't believe him because nobody believed him. How could he hate something he was so good at, something that came so naturally? How could he give up the chance to be the best? Just another insane thing about Charles Tucker III.
"You…"
"Hated it." Trip repeated. "I hated every single moment. I hated the fact that they made me play in a DH league because I couldn't hit…"
"DH?" Maybe Jonathan wasn't up on sports. Or at least baseball.
"Designated Hitter." Trip and Sisko chorused.
"I hate that rule. But because I was Mister Pitcher Perfect …" So he'd made up his mind and walked away. Went with an academic scholarship to a smaller school, then on to Starfleet Academy. And the rest is history.
Ending now, if the doom-and-gloom team is correct.
No. It still made no sense. Even Hess wouldn't give odds on a non-event across an infinite number of universes. So… it had to be something else, something that none of the others had thought of. All you have to do is find that hidden angle. It would have to be something so simple, so obvious that everyone overlooked it. "…it's right there, teasing me."
Both Sisko and Jonathan looked at him oddly now, not privy to the train of thought that broke through his sentences. He ignored them, spinning the spanner around in his fingers, thinking. What…
{Trip? I hate to say this, but there's more people coming this way.} Toby tapped him on the shoulder; her icy touch pulled him out of his trance.
"More? Okay. We're going to have to do this from somewhere else. Um… Try and stall them somehow without doing too much damage. Do something poltergeisty or something. I'm sure you'll figure it out."
{Poltergeisty? What do you think I am, some sort of psychic sexually-repressed teenager?}
He looked at her – a dead fifteen-year-old tomboy – and grinned. "Yes, actually I do."
She sniffed and stalked off and he laughed. Sisko looked at him even more strangely now: a man giving orders to thin air. Hey, at least I don't have a god-complex.
Yet.
"Okay. Now. I've answered your question. I want my quid pro quo. Stay out of my way. In fact, go away. The last thing I need right now is some fan-boy distracting me." He tried to say it as insultingly as possible. That – he'd found – was the only way to get rid of the eager beavers. Hurt their feelings enough and they went away thinking you were a jerk. Which was better than being their hero because you could chuck a stupid ball.
"Fine. I suppose…"
With a sigh, Trip snatched the card from Sisko's hand, and scrabbled around on his desk until he found a grease pencil. He scrawled an illegible signature on the card and tossed it back. "Congratulations. There aren't that many."
{Any more sarcasm on that and we'd have puddles on the floor.}
"Shut up, Toby."
{Yes, sir.} She vanished again; hopefully she was off to slow the newcomers down.
He stalked off, trailing the others after him. Before he left, he saw Sisko standing there with a bemused grin on his face, staring at the card. So glad to be of help.
"That was nice of you," Jonathan waited until the door closed before speaking and Trip couldn't tell if the other man was being sarcastic or not. "Signing the card for him."
"Trust me, it's the only way to shut them up and make them go away. It's just… stupid." Trip sighed, rubbing his head. If this got any stranger… I'll shoot myself. I swear I'll just shoot myself.
"Is there anything you're not good at? Aside from people skills that is?" A smile twitched on Jonathan's lips as he looked over sideways at Trip. "Football, baseball, artist, singer, engineer, mountain climber…"
"Well I can't play the piano to save my life. And I'm not much of a mountain climber either." Despite the fact that he'd had to do it more than once. "I mean unless there's a good reason…"
Jonathan shook his head. "Charles would never do it at all. He's afraid of heights. He tries to keep it secret but…"
"So do I." Trip's gaze adjusted to the middle distance as he walked. "Aside from having to get that transponder up high enough to save our lives… I don't mountain climb all that much."
"You mentioned something about falling…"
Trip snorted. "Yeah, why do you think I fell? I went because… because Captain Archer and I had just hit a real rough spot in our friendship – hell, I thought it was over – and it was the first chance we really got to talk away from work. He doesn't… at least I don't think he knows I'm afraid of heights. Maybe now that I've had a near death experience…no… I don't think so. I mention an NDE and he'll probably ask me 'which one?'"
Jonathan laughed. "Yeah, that fits too. I swear Charles has been near death so many times that he has a hall pass. But he's too stubborn to actually die." He paused. "That man could teach stubborn to a Vulcan."
"Not me." Trip acknowledged Jonathan's raised eyebrow with a nod. "I know. Sounds impossible, right? Truth is, it's Archer who taught me the Rules of Stubborn."
"You're kidding me." This time Jonathan said it aloud. "Archer. Taught you. Stubborn."
"Yep." Like that time out in the desert: "Either drink the water or I'll knock you on your ass and pour it down your throat." Trip had been willing to give up -- to just lay down and slowly die -- but Archer didn't give him the choice. Later, Archer pulling at him, nagging at him, keeping him out of that oh-so-tempting coma. Other times, too: making Trip keep his EV helmet on, even as Trip suffocated. Cutting through a hallucinogen induced psychosis to keep Trip from shooting T'Pol. "If anybody can make me do something that I don't want to, it's Captain Archer. If he starts planting his feet, I'll give in every time."
"Wow." Jonathan seemed genuinely surprised. "I can't see Tr… Charles giving in for anything."
He's confusing us again. Oddly enough, it came at the times when Jonathan identified a difference.
"Maybe I've just learned that there's some things more important than a little pride. Like family and friendship." Therein lay his greatest fear – more than going crazy, more than any heights – the possibility that he would end up utterly and entirely alone. No friends, no family, just himself and his thoughts. I like my space, but I need to know it's not permanent.
"You don't want to be alone." Again Jonathan's voice softened and became sympathetic.
Trip nodded. "It scares the crap out of me: that one day I'll wake up and there'll be nobody left to care. Like when Malcolm was writing all those good-bye letters in the shuttlepod… I realised that – aside from my family who would rather remember the good times and didn't need any tearful last thoughts – there was absolutely no one to say goodbye to. I don't think my exes would really care all that much and everybody else – like Malcolm said – was on Enterprise. Since we thought that they were already dead…"
"Yet everybody thinks you're so popular." Trip could see Jonathan fighting the urge to reach out and wrap him in another hug.
"Yeah, they do, don't they? Everybody's friend, Charles Tucker the Third. Except… I'm not. I mean, I know a lot of people, but I wouldn't say I was friends with many of them." He could count his actual – breathing -- friends on one hand. Archer. Malcolm. Getting there with Hoshi and Travis. And Hess, of course. Couldn't forget Hess. Other than that… "Like I said: I know them to talk to, but we're not exactly friends."
"Oh." Jonathan cracked his knuckles; a habit he must have picked up from Charles. "When you put it that way, I can see it." He glanced sideways at Trip as though gauging Trip's mood before continuing. "Trip…my Trip is a little shy too."
Trip raised both eyebrows at that one. "Really?"
Jonathan nodded. "I remember when he asked me out. It was…."
…Two months since Robinson blew up the prototype, two months of nailbiting and snappishness. Then suddenly the Vulcans packed up and left and the NX-program was back in full swing. Dad, you'd be proud. They were so close now. Warp Two had been left in the dust – somehow somebody had found the glitch that kept fouling up the intermix – and Forrest had just announced construction beginning on the first Warp Five starship: Enterprise.
Jon walked down the Academy corridor, not really going anywhere, so in no big rush to get there. He heard running feet behind him and ignored it as being someone who was in a hurry to get somewhere.
"Commander! Wait up!" A lithe blond dynamo pulled up alongside him, and slowed down to match his pace.
"Lieutenant Tucker. Please, it's Jon." He slowed his own gait to make it less awkward for the smaller man to keep up. "I think we've known each other long enough for that."
An odd look flickered across the lieutenant's face but Jon couldn't quite decipher it. "Jon. Right. Trip. I…"
Jon smiled. "I know. You were just being so formal, that…"
Trip waved him off. " 'Sokay. Really." He seemed keyed up, almost to the point of being jumpy.
Uh-oh. Somehow the prospect of a jumpy Trip Tucker was a little worrying. From what Jon had been able to tell, the guy had two modes: either happy or ready to take your head off. Nervous was a new one.
"Anyway…I was wondering…Do you wanna go somewhere and getta drink?" The last sentence came out too fast, as though Trip were afraid that if he didn't get it all out at once he wouldn't get it out at all.
Jon smiled, bemused. "Okay. 602 good for you?"
Trip's eyes darted around. "Um. Actually. I was hoping for somewhere else. I've had about enough of this academy shit for one day."
"Okay." Well that explained some of it. Trip had probably gotten another dressing down and just needed to spout off at somebody. It seemed like the lieutenant was always managing to upset someone in authority, just simply by being himself. They'd become friends – if not good friends – since that first day when Trip had come charging out of the second prototype to take on whomever had decided to insult the engine. But one look at Tucker and the way he flirted with the ladies…no. This was definitely stuck as a platonic friendship, no matter how good looking the guy was.
Jon suggested a place and Trip nodded. "Sounds good. About seven?"
"Seven." Jon agreed. He noticed how a lot of the tension had disappeared. Not all of it, but enough to let Trip speak full sentences. Too bad.: he's kind of cute like that. After all, there was no rule that said a guy couldn't look…
He showed up at seven to find Trip already there. Dressed a little more neatly than normal, though still in jeans, and jumpy again. What the hell? Trip had scored them a booth in the back corner where they could talk, relatively undisturbed. It must be bad, this time.
They ordered and Trip knocked his bourbon back in a single swallow before ordering another. He looked at Jon almost apologetically, "Sorry. I just…"
"It's okay. It looks like you had a rough day." Jon sipped at his beer while they waited for Trip's second drink to arrive, noticing how quiet his normally talkative companion seemed. In fact, Jon had to carry most of the conversation, keeping it on light topics until Trip could get around to his real problem.
"Jon… are you gay?" Again the sense that the words had been blurted out simply in an attempt to get them said.
"What? What kind of a question…"
Trip half-stood and leaned across the table and kissed him, answering in a way that no words could. It lasted about a second before the younger man dropped down again and stared at his drink. He'd gone entirely red and was actually shaking. "I'm sorry. That was stupid. I…" He made a move to slide out of the booth and Jon put a hand on his arm to stop him.
"No. No. Don't." With his other hand, Jon reached out and caught Trip's cheek and turned the embarrassed face towards his. He returned the kiss gently, making it last longer this time. When he broke contact he found himself starting into a pair of wide, astonished eyes framed by thick, sandy lashes. Funny I never noticed those before. It gave Trip a delicate look -- so at odds with his tough-guy persona. "Yeah, I am."
"I…I wasn't sure. I mean I thought I saw you looking at me once or twice…but you know how it can be." Trip licked his lips and cracked his knuckles, and once again his eyes couldn't stay still. "I mean… I…I hoped. But you've never… I mean you haven't…"
"Hey. Despite what some people say, it's nothing to be ashamed of." Trip seemed like a crush-stricken teenager rather than the confident hot-head of normal. And here I thought nothing could scare him.
"I'm not." Trip straightened suddenly and pulled a little away. Defensiveness sparked in his eyes. "I also knew I could get in a lot of trouble if you weren't. I've known about me for a long time, since back when I was in high-school. But you… I didn't know what you were. Aside from a senior officer, that is."
Which brought it's own set of complications. "Well, I'm not in your direct chain of command, so that shouldn't be too much of a problem on its own." A slight smile played on his lips. This was the Trip Tucker he was used to. Combative. He uses that anger to hide his feelings, Jon suddenly realised. If he could push other people away…
I'm not going anywhere. His world had just turned upside down in the best way possible. From all indications Trip wasn't just physically attracted to him, there was genuine emotion there. A compliment to all of those feelings of his own that had been growing for two months – all the feelings he'd pushed aside during drinks at the 602 and coffee in the Academy cafeteria. He remembered the jealousy he'd felt watching Trip giggle with an ensign, as he teased her about her hair. That jealousy seemed so silly now, knowing what he knew. All the time I've been falling in love with you… it seemed Trip had been feeling the same way. And both of them too unsure of the other to say anything. "I'm glad you did this. Really. The truth is…I wasn't sure about you. And I could've gotten in a lot of trouble, too. More than you -- when you think about it." The fraternisation rules existed to protect the balance of power. When a senior officer propositioned a junior one it carried a whole lot of possible implications. Especially in a case like this.
A shy smile crawled onto Trip's face. "I… I just couldn't wait anymore. I had to know. I just couldn't think of how to ask you, and I was so scared that I'd blow everything. I mean… at least as your friend I'd still be there, right? But if you weren't interested… or worse… I was scared that you'd hate me and I'd never see you again."
Jon slid around the booth until their knees touched. He kissed Trip – once, twice. "Believe me: 'hate' is not the word for what I'm feeling." He wasn't quite sure what he was feeling – it just felt like he was a giddy teenager himself. "Really," he repeated, "I'm glad you did this. I don't know how much longer I could have tortured myself, either."
"I just thought… too… that maybe if you were… that didn't mean you were interested in me. I mean I'm not…"
Jon silenced him with another kiss. "I'm definitely interested, Trip. More than interested. Like I said: I thought it would be the other way around."
"What do you mean?" Genuine puzzlement shone in Trip's eyes. "That…"
"You really… Trip, you're young; you're on your way up; you're smart; you're charismatic, and you're definitely gorgeous. You could be with anyone you wanted, so why me?"
Trip was silent for a moment. "Because you don't seem to care about all that. All the times we've talked…we've actually talked. And you're all those things, too."
Jon raised an eyebrow, just barely.
"Well, older than me, obviously. But not old." Trip stared into the distance, as though he couldn't think of anything more to say.
Maybe we've said all we need to at this point. Indeed, it seemed like all Trip's energy was gone, as though he'd gotten here and now had no idea how to get any further. Jon didn't need any more words either.
"It took five more dates before we got any further than that. I always got the feeling that it was letting me get emotionally close that bothered him. Bothers him. Most of our fights come when I try to find out just who he is. He gets so scared… and he'll do anything to stop me -- to shut me up."
"Oh." Trip shook himself, realising that Jonathan was done with his story. "Um… yeah." It was disconcerting to hear about yourself asking a friend on a date. Even more disconcerting imagining some of the details. "Well, I don't like Archer prying either. He just knows not to push a topic when I change the subject. Of course, it probably helps that I'm not anything more than a friend…" It had been a straining point in some of his other relationships though. The cold sullen silences, the screaming matches… all of which usually ended up with Trip in a bar somewhere and not making it home. More than once he'd come to in a jail cell, waiting for them to send him on his way now that he could walk. Once he'd even landed in a hospital, after wandering out into traffic without looking. And I say James self-medicates.
"…I mean, to be honest, though… you wouldn't know half these things about me if I didn't think that I'd never see you again."
"I know." Jonathan sounded sad about Trip's confession, but resigned. "Still, I can't help but think… people might be a little less jealous if they saw you had some weak points. That you weren't perfect."
"They already know that. It's just… people make judgements, right? They assume that because you've done this, that, and everything else, then this is the person you should be. And I don't want to be the crazy-scary one. I want to be the person that people can trust. That they can say: 'hey, that's my friend Trip' and mean it." His voice grew soft. "I don't want people to be afraid of me."
"I'm not afraid of you." Jonathan gestured at Kaci who'd stuck with them. "She doesn't seem afraid of you."
Trip had forgotten Kaci was even there; she could be so silent. "Yeah but…"
"I know what he means." It was the first sentence Kaci had actually spoken in Jonathan's presence. "People don't like anything that's too different from what they are used to. You already know what it's like to be different, so you have a better understanding. But even you don't know what it's like to be so different from everybody else that they don't know how to handle you, to be so different that people think you're somehow dangerous or liable to explode. I know that, and he knows that. And that's why nobody else knows."
"But…"
"You can't fix the past, sir. It just is."
Bingo. That was it: the thing he'd missed. He grabbed Kaci, kissed her on the cheek. "You're a genius crewman. That's it." He slapped the button for the turbolift, fighting the urge to start dancing. All he needed was a little more proof.