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CHAPTER FIVE

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Malcolm Reed stood silently as the sickbay doors slid open before him. He stepped into the big medical bay then immediately caught sight of Archer and Phlox talking quietly near the far counter.

Phlox looked up at him. "Yes, Lieutenant? Is there something you needed?" he asked.

Malcolm shook his head, taking a step back through the still opened doors. "No, no, Doctor. It's nothing important. I didn't mean to interrupt."

"Come in, Malcolm," said Archer. "I was just talking to Phlox about Trip."

The lieutenant nodded. "Actually, sir, that's why I'm here---I'm worried about him."

"I thought so," replied the captain.

Malcolm stepped back into the bay then moved over to the other two men. "It's been almost a week and he just seems to be getting more confused."

Archer nodded. "He told me tonight at dinner that everything will be fine once he's released back to full duty."

"I'm not so sure, Captain."

"Commander T'Pol has voiced her concerns as well," said Phlox. "I can't divulge what Commander Tucker and I discuss, but I will say he isn't being truthful with me or himself. Until he realizes he can't recover from his trauma alone, there's really nothing I can do."

"Maybe he's right, Phlox," said Archer. "Maybe when he's back on duty, the distraction will keep his mind busy, keep him from focusing on what happened."

The Denobulan shook his head. "I highly doubt that, Captain. These dreams the Taipra Ku made him experience seem to have become new memories."

"So Trip believes his dreams really happened?" asked Malcolm.

"I would say at the moment he's very confused. He doesn't know what is real and what isn't anymore."

"Has he talked to you about the dreams?" asked Archer.

"Yes, at length. And that's what concerns me. I believe these scientists wanted to gauge the commander's reactions in certain life-threatening events. Would he save himself above all others or would he sacrifice himself. How far would he go to save another? Since Commander Tucker fought them by finding a way to anchor himself----."

"With the cold touch," interrupted Archer.

Phlox nodded. "Yes, with the cold touch, the Taipra Ku had to dig deeper into his mind."

"So what should have been just dreams are now becoming very real memories to Trip," concluded Malcolm. He leaned forward on the counter before him.

"It would appear so, Lieutenant."

"All in the name of bloody science," muttered the armory officer heatedly. "How could they just leave him like this?"

"Remember, Malcolm," replied Archer. "Trip wasn't supposed to survive. The Taipra Ku didn't care one damn about how they left him, as long as they got their precious data." The captain exhaled a breath then turned to Phlox. "What can we do for him, Doctor?"

"As I stated earlier, Captain, until Commander Tucker acknowledges that he needs help, there's really nothing we can do."

Malcolm felt the cold knot of fear that had made itself comfortable in his stomach since his friend's rescue pull just a little tighter.

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They were there again, probing his mind, their cold touch sending shivers throughout his body. Then he felt the pain again as they opened up his chest. The blood flowed over his ribcage to pool under his body, and he tried to scream, but no sound came from his mouth. The only thing he could hear was their voices, strange and melodious, floating through the darkness all around him.

Trip awoke with a jolt, gasping. Across from him in the bunk, watching him with concern was T'Pol. She touched his cheek with the back of her hand and he felt its warmth, her touch immediately bringing him back to reality. She'd stayed with him every night since he'd left sickbay, finally agreeing to share his bed, but Trip knew she hadn't slept much.

He sat up. "You have got to be getting sick of this, T'Pol," he said bitterly. He ran his fingers back through his disheveled hair then stood from the bunk. He moved across his quarters to stand at the view port. "I know I am," he sighed.

"Perhaps you should talk to Dr. Phlox," offered T'Pol.

Trip shook his head. "I know I'll be fine if he'd just release me to duty, but he keeps denying me, says I'm not fully recovered yet."

"I believe his assessment is correct."

The engineer turned around and stared at T'Pol in disbelief. "What? You agree with him? Oh, that's great, just great."

T'Pol rose from the bunk, the glow of the starlight catching on the silk of her pajamas. She crossed the room to stand before him, her eyes focused on the pink scar that trailed down his chest. She reached up and carefully touched it.

Trip flinched then took her hand in his, staying it. "It still hurts a little," he said.

"That is because you are not fully healed."

Trip snorted softly. "Okay, point taken," he replied. Then he reached for her and pulled her into a gentle embrace. "I think I'm going crazy, T'Pol, and it scares me to death," he whispered against her hair. "I don't know what's real and what isn't anymore. If I could just work, I know I'd be okay."

T'Pol's arms encircled Trip's waist and she stepped closer to him, settling her head against his shoulder, somewhat awkward in his embrace.

"I dreamed of us," Trip continued. "I couldn't help it."

"It is over now."

"Why are you doing this?" the engineer asked after a long moment.

"I thought you already understood," replied T'Pol. "You are important----."

"No, no," interrupted Trip. "This----allowing me to hold you." He wanted to continue, to ask why she hadn't allowed him to hold her after they'd made love that night so many months ago, but he kept that question to himself, afraid of what her answer would be.

T'Pol hesitated briefly. "You seem to derive comfort from my proximity and my touch. My nearness seems to calm you."

"Oh, so this is all for my health?"

T'Pol pulled back slightly and looked up at him. "Your health is of the utmost importance to me---and---to the ship."

Trip chuckled lightly. "I appreciate your sacrifice, T'Pol. I know this is uncomfortable for you."

T'Pol settled her head back on his shoulder. "It is not entirely unpleasant," she admitted.

The commander smiled. He knew he loved T'Pol more than he thought possible, but where he stood with her, he still didn't know. He tightened his arms around her body. He'd have to gather the courage to ask her soon what she wanted, but now all he wanted, all he needed, was to hold her and feel her warmth against him.

"Do you remember Dr. Yuris?"

Trip scowled. "The doctor who helped Phlox with your Pa'Nars?"

"Yes. I have been in contact with him recently."

"I thought he was removed from the medical council long ago," replied Trip.

"He was. He is currently living on Vulcan, basically in exile."

"Does he know you're no longer sick?"

Trip felt T'Pol nod against his shoulder. "I told him about you."

"You did what?"

T'Pol pulled away to look up at him. "I believe he can help you, Trip."

Trip dropped his arms and stepped back. "What did you tell him?" he asked sharply. "That you know this human who just might be going crazy?"

Before T'Pol could answer, Archer's voice came through the comm. calling all senior officers to their posts. The first officer moved quickly to her uniform that she'd lain over the back of Trip's desk chair. Trip scrambled for his own uniform, pulling it from his storage closet.

"You are still on medical leave, Commander," said T'Pol as she dressed.

"I'm just going down to engineering, T'Pol," Trip retorted. "I think I'm sane enough to handle that."

T'Pol looked at him and for a moment, Trip thought she'd order him to stay. Thankfully, she said nothing. He knew he'd hurt her, though. They silently left his quarters and separated just outside the door.

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"T'Pol?"

The Vulcan looked up from her monitor. "We are through the turbulence, Captain," she replied.

Jon nodded then looked at Hoshi. "Injury reports?"

Hoshi pressed her earpiece. "Departments are still checking in, but so far only minor injuries, sir."

"Hess to Captain Archer."

Jon turned and fingered the comm. button on his chair. "Archer, what is it Lieutenant?"

"Sir, I think you should get down here. It's Commander Tucker. Dr. Phlox is already on his way."

The captain swallowed hard. "I'll be right there," he replied. He cut the transmission then headed for the turbolift. "T'Pol, you have the bridge."

"Captain." The science officer stood from her station.

"I need you here, T'Pol," said Jon gently but firmly.

T'Pol hesitated briefly, but then nodded once. "Yes, sir," she replied.

Jon entered the turbolift, his thoughts on Trip. He wasn't surprised that his chief engineer would be near his engines during a crisis, but no damage had been reported. He was puzzled as to what could have gone wrong.

When he entered engineering, he immediately went to Phlox and Hess where they stood near the base of the big warp core. "Where's Trip? Is he hurt?"

"He's up there, sir," replied Hess. She pointed at the top of the ladder that ran up the side of the core. "He's in pretty bad shape."

Jon grabbed a rung on the ladder. "Then why aren't you up there, Phlox?" he demanded as he prepared to climb.

Phlox grabbed the captain's arm. "I just got here myself, Captain," he replied. "From what I gather so far, the commander isn't physically injured."

"Commander Tucker came down here during the turbulence, sir," explained Hess. "He seemed fine at first. In fact, he was taking charge just like he used to do before---before he was hurt. But something happened. He started talking about something clogging the intake manifold and a possible breach. He ordered me to evacuate the department then he climbed up there. Rostov followed him and he managed to stop him from shutting down the system." Hess shifted on her feet, her face full of concern. "Michael told everyone to stay away then he told us to get you two, Captain."

"Let's get up there, Phlox," said Jon. He started climbing the ladder, the Denobulan close at his heels. He saw Trip as soon as his head crested the top of the big core. His friend was sitting cross-legged near the open control panel staring vacantly into space. From Jon's position, he could clearly see Trip was shaking. Rostov was kneeling near the commander and although Jon couldn't make out any words, he could see the young man was talking gently to his senior officer.

Jon moved to Rostov's side and the crewman stood and turned to the captain. Jon could see a bruise beginning to form along the young man's cheekbone.

Rostov touched his cheek gingerly. "I'm okay, sir," he said. "He thought I was someone else. He seemed so scared of me." His eyes moved back to Trip. "Can you help him, Captain?"

Jon put his hand on the crewman's shoulder. "We're going to try, Michael. Why don't you go down and have someone tend to that?"

"Aye, sir."

Rostov moved away, leaving Jon and Phlox with Trip. The doctor knelt in front of the engineer and slowly pulled his medical tricorder from his pocket. Trip didn't move, his eyes seemingly focused somewhere far away from engineering.

Jon knelt beside Phlox. "How is he, Doctor?" he asked quietly.

"Physically, he's unharmed, Captain," replied Phlox. He shut off his tricorder and slipped it back into his pocket. He looked closely at Trip. "Commander? Can you hear me?"

Trip blinked a few times then finally nodded.

"Do you know where you are?" continued Phlox gently.

Jon watched Trip's eyes as his friend slowly seemed to come back from that distant place.

Trip nodded again. "In engineering," he whispered brokenly. "Is Michael all right?"

"Yes, Trip. He's fine," replied Jon. He reached out and rested his hand on Trip's trembling shoulder. "How about you?"

"I'm scared, Cap'n."

"I know you are," said Jon, his heart aching for his friend. He gave the younger man's shoulder a gentle squeeze.

Trip shook his head. "It was so real," he murmured. "So damn real." He met Jon's eyes. "I could've killed someone." His body started shaking harder. "Someone could've died because of me."

"You're right, Trip," replied the captain matter-of-factly, hating himself for being so blunt.

Trip looked startled and his eyes dropped to his hands where they lay clenched together in his lap. He contemplated them for a long moment then finally he looked up at Phlox. "I need your help, Doc."

Phlox nodded. "Then let's get you down from here and to sickbay, shall we?"

"I'm not sure I can move," admitted Trip with chagrin.

"I'll help you," said Jon. He stood and reached down to grab Trip under one arm, pulling him to his feet. The engineer's knees buckled immediately, but Jon held on. "Here, lean on me," he whispered to his friend.

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CONTINUED