TITLE: Into the Mind's Eye

AUTHOR: plumtuckered

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CHAPTER FIVE

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"What are you doing?"

Jon got to his feet. "I heard Trip," he replied. "He's calling for me."

"No, he's dead. You killed him."

The captain shook his head. "No, I heard him, felt him. He needs my help."

Laughter filled the dark. "You are a broken man, Jonathan Archer. Your friend is dead. You saw what happened to him."

Jon puzzled for a moment. "Yeah, yeah I did," he replied dejectedly. But somehow, he'd felt the commander's presence and it had felt so very real. "Trip," he mumbled. "I'm sorry."

Laughter cut through the blackness again.

Jon sat back down and pulled his knees to his chest. He was so tired.

"You have the power to leave this purgatory, you know, this place between life and death."

"I don't understand," replied the captain.

"You keep denying your insanity, Jonathan. Give in to it, accept it, only then can you be freed."

Jon shook his head. "I'm not crazy."

"Aren't you? You're hearing your dead friend's voice. If you accept that I am you and you are me, then you can leave this place."

"I can't."

"Why?" demanded the voice angrily.

"Because to accept you would be to accept that I killed Malcolm, Travis and the others," replied Jon adamantly. "That I killed Trip."

"But you felt yourself kill him, Jonathan!"

Jon shivered against the cold rage he felt suddenly blow over him and he pulled his knees in tighter to his chest.

"You are a fool."

"Then since we're both the same person, we're both fools," retorted the captain bitterly.

"S'ele?"

Jon scowled in puzzlement. "What did you say?"

"No, I will not let you do this, S'ele!"

The captain got to his feet again and peered into the darkness. It seemed to be shifting, moving in waves; still utter darkness, but seemingly alive.

"Cap'n?"

Jon swallowed. Through the black, he could almost make out a shape moving towards him. As the shape became clearer, the captain shook his head. No, he told himself, his mind was playing tricks on him.

"Cap'n, it's me."

"Trip is dead. I killed him," replied Jon, his voice shaking from his grief. He squinted at the form. The shape seemed like a ghost, transparent and floating. "I really am crazy."

"No, you're not. The Umbra wants you to believe that, Cap'n. There's an entity in your mind with you, trying to convince you that you did terrible things. But it's all a lie, a trick to break you so he can be freed."

"But I saw myself kill you, Trip. I felt it."

"You tried, but thanks to Malcolm, you didn't succeed."

"Malcolm? He's alive?"

"He's fine, Cap'n. He's waiting with Dr. Phlox in sickbay for us to return. We've got to hurry."

Jon shook his head. "I'm not falling for this," he said then he looked around him. "I'm not falling for this!" he shouted. "Do you hear me?"

"Cap'n, please."

Jon looked closely at the apparition then met its eyes. He inhaled sharply. There was something warm and familiar about those eyes. He felt a touch of affection wash over him as he held the steady gaze. Those were the eyes he'd seen practically everyday of his life for more than a decade; they were Trip's eyes.

"You trust me, don't you, Cap'n?"

"With my life," replied Jon with earnest.

"Then trust me now."

The shape became clearer, yet still wavered and shimmered in the dark.

Jon scowled. The person before him seemed to be his long-time friend and as much as he wanted to believe that Trip was alive and in front of him, there was still doubt. He was afraid.

Then a thought occurred to him. "Who or what is S'ele?" he asked.

"How the hell do you know about S'ele?"

Jon felt his lower lip tremble. "Trip?"

The shape solidified and came slowly toward Jon a grin splitting his bruised and bloodied face. Jon grabbed his friend in a bear hug. He felt very real.

"Uh, easy there, Cap'n," grunted Trip. "I kind of had a rough time finding you."

Jon pushed Trip away, but kept a grip on the engineer's arms. "What happened to you?" he asked with concern. Trip's knees buckled and Jon just barely caught him. "Trip?" he prompted as he lifted the commander's arm around his shoulders to steady him.

Trip coughed harshly. "I'll explain everything later, sir," he managed, his voice full of pain. "Right now we have to figure out how to get back."

"You are not leaving!"

Jon flinched at the sound of the voice raging in his head.

"I will not go back, S'ele!"

At the captain's side, Trip suddenly doubled over in agony.

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"The process has begun."

Phlox looked at Taj-Mel who stood motionless, her dark eyes closed. "Is it working?" he asked.

"The Umbra is strong. He is fighting."

Phlox's gaze dropped to Trip. One hand gripped the sheets tightly, the other still clamped onto Archer's arm as he fought against whatever was happening in his mind. The doctor looked across Trip's inert form to Archer. He had lain still for most of the two hours that had passed, but in the last few moments, he too had begun to struggle. Two of the most important people in Phlox's life were fighting an unseen foe and he was helpless to assist them.

He glanced up at Trip's monitor then Archer's. "Their vitals are fluctuating dangerously. Can't you do something to help them?"

Taj-Mel opened her eyes. "No, Doctor," she replied gently. "I apologize, but I can not interfere."

"Why the bloody hell not?" demanded Malcolm.

Before Taj-Mel could respond, Archer called out for Trip.

"Captain?" prompted Phlox, but Archer didn't respond. His brows furrowed and he mumbled the engineer's name again as one hand crossed his body clutching Trip's where it gripped his arm.

"S'ele is binding the Umbra to himself," explained Taj-Mel.

Phlox looked at Archer's vitals and noted with some relief that they were returning to normal. Trip's, however, were slowly dropping. He turned worried eyes to Taj-Mel.

The woman looked at Phlox with fear. "Your captain is free, but he must help your commander or he will be lost. S'ele can no longer help him."

"Can't you do something?" asked Travis desperately. "Please?"

"I can not."

Phlox looked from Taj-Mel to his two patients then up at their monitors again. Archer's vitals were strengthening, but Trip's were fading. The Denobulan dropped his gaze to the engineer and silently said an ancient prayer from his childhood.

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"Trip!" called Jon. He took a few steps into the swirling winds then stopped. Trip was there, sitting alone, his body curled tight into a fetal position. "Trip?"

The commander didn't move.

Jon stepped to his side and knelt, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. He could feel his friend trembling. "Trip?" he prompted again.

"Captain?"

Jon looked up to see T'Pol suddenly standing before him, her image almost transparent. "What---how did you get here?" he spluttered.

T'Pol dropped to her knees at Trip's side. "T'hyla?" she said softly. "I am here."

"I'm scared, T'Pol," Trip choked out then he clutched at his stomach, the pain clear on his face.

A scream pierced the darkness.

"They're fighting each other," explained the engineer absently. He coughed and blood dribbled down his chin. He slumped against Jon. "I'm so tired," he mumbled.

The captain cradled his friend against him and pulled him close. "Trip?" He looked down at his face. Jon could see the younger man's eyes were closed, his pallor frightening. He suddenly realized that Trip was dying.

"Feel me, T'hyla," T'Pol directed soothingly as she reached out and placed her hand on Trip's cheek. She closed her eyes. "Feel my strength and hold onto it."

Trip shifted against Jon then he clutched at the captain's arm. "T'Pol?" he whispered.

"Hold onto me," the first officer coaxed. "Do not let go."

Another scream shattered the darkness and the air around Jon began to churn. He felt a cold wind touch his skin that quickly turned more ferocious. He held onto Trip and looked at T'Pol. Her eyes were still closed, her brow creased in concentration, yet her image still wavered. Jon pulled Trip closer and sheltered his friend in his arms as the hurricane raged over them. He could feel his fear as it grew with the winds, then the air around him suddenly stilled.

Jon opened his eyes. They were sitting in the eye of the storm with the tumultuous winds swirling around them. He leaned back and glanced down at Trip still cradled against his chest. He was still, too still. His eyes lifted to T'Pol's face as she gasped, her ghostly hand still settled on her mate's cheek. She opened her eyes and met Jon's.

"What's happening to him?" asked the captain.

"I am too far away," said T'Pol, her voice breaking slightly. "I need to meld with him, but----," she paused and leaned forward, taking Trip's face in both her hands. "We're losing him, Captain. I can feel him slipping away from me."

Jon swallowed hard. "What can we do?"

"You must assist me."

"How?" asked the captain.

T'Pol met his eyes. "We are in your mind, Captain," she replied. "Help me give Trip strength. Share yours with him----now."

Jon looked down at his unconscious friend. Trip seemed even paler than before. The captain leaned forward again and enveloped the commander in his arms. He closed his eyes and concentrated on Trip, remembering their times together, both good and bad, allowing the depth of their friendship to engulf him.

Then he felt it; a gentle nudge of warmth, of affection returned. "Trip," he whispered, somehow knowing it was his friend. "I'm here, Trip. Just hold onto me. I won't let you go." He sensed pain and fear, but the emotions were like hands clinging for purchase, searching for something to grab onto. Jon took those hands and held on with all his strength.

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CONTINUED