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CHAPTER THREE

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Malcolm stared at the door before him then forced his hand up to rap his knuckles against the wood surface. Only seconds passed before the door opened wide to reveal a young woman holding an infant in her arms. Her eyes widened at the sight of Malcolm, T'Pol, and Coombs then quickly filled with tears.

"Mrs. Rawlings?" prompted T'Pol.

The woman nodded. "Yes," she said then she looked oddly at Coombs. "Is this about Ely, Captain?"

"Yes, Jane," replied Coombs.

"Something's happened to him, hasn't it?"

"We're not sure yet. This is Commander T'Pol and Lieutenant Reed, Jane. They're also with Starfleet. May we come in? We'd like to ask you a few questions."

The young woman looked from T'Pol to Malcolm then nodded and stepped aside. The three officers moved over the threshold then turned as Rawlings closed the door. The baby boy sniffled and whimpered but quieted with some gentle cooing from his mother. She bounced the child absently in her arms, one hand rubbing his back. With her head, she nodded toward the living room.

Malcolm followed T'Pol into the cozy room. He noticed immediately the large portrait above the mantle. In it, all smiling happily, were Jane Rawlings, her husband, and their son.

"That was taken only a couple weeks ago," said Rawlings from behind him.

Malcolm turned to face her. "It's lovely," he replied.

"Thank you. Please….sit down."

"You don't seem surprised we're here about your husband, Mrs. Rawlings. May I ask why?" asked T'Pol as she sat on the edge of the couch.

"Just a feeling, Commander," Rawlings answered simply.

"When was the last time you saw your husband?"

"Last night before he left for work."

"Did he seem….okay?" asked Malcolm. He sat down in an overstuffed recliner just to the left of the big fireplace.

Mrs. Rawlings' eyes filled with tears again and she shook her head. "He hasn't been okay for a while now, Lieutenant." She glanced at Coombs for a moment then looked back at Malcolm. "I'm sure it's just job stress."

"Job stress," repeated T'Pol evenly. "Are you certain that is all?"

"What else could it be?"

Malcolm regarded the young woman through squinted eyes. Her uncomfortable glances aimed at Coombs were subtle, but noticeable nonetheless. The lieutenant was sure she was keeping something from them, but he was also sure she wasn't going to be forthcoming.

"What exactly happened, Jane?" asked Coombs.

Rawlings swallowed hard. "Nothing, Captain. Ely just seemed overly tense last night. He won't tell me what's happening at work anymore and I don't ask him."

"Did he mention Agent Spanek?"

Rawlings looked at Malcolm in honest surprise. "No," she replied. "Is Kyle all right?"

"Kyle's dead, Jane," said the captain. "His body was found late last night."

"Oh, no." Rawlings was visibly shaken as she pulled her baby into her body tightly. "Not Kyle." She turned her back on the three officers. "I'm sorry I can't be of more help," she managed. "I'll let you know if Ely contacts me."

"Jane….."

"I'm sorry, Captain. Joshua is due for his feeding so I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Malcolm stood as did T'Pol then they both passed Rawlings on their way to the door. The armory officer paused and glanced at the young woman, noticing the shimmer of tears on her cheeks. He turned his head to look at Coombs whose eyes were fixed on Rawlings' back. He seemed ready to press the issue, but then apparently decided against it.

"Thank you, Mrs. Rawlings," said T'Pol from where she stood by the door.

"Of course, Commander."

"I'll talk to you later, Jane," said Coombs. He brushed by Malcolm then joined T'Pol at the door.

Malcolm eyed the woman in profile for a moment more then strode over to the other officers. She knew something and the fact that she was very frightened was quite obvious. But of what, Malcolm wondered as he shut the door behind him, or of whom he didn't know. The one thing he did know was that he needed to find out if they had any hope of finding Trip.

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Phlox glanced up from the padd he was studying to see his patient staring up at the ceiling. "Captain, you should really try to sleep," he chided lightly.

"How can I sleep, Phlox?" asked Archer sharply. "I should be out there looking for Trip."

"We've already had this conversation at least three times, Captain," replied the Denobulan with a patience he didn't feel. "You are in no condition to be out of bed."

Archer sighed. "I know, I know."

Phlox stood from his chair and moved to Archer's bedside. "Neither Commander T'Pol nor Lieutenant Reed will stop searching and Ensigns Sato and Mayweather are back on Enterprise running scans. They'll find him, Captain."

"What could they possibly want from Trip, Phlox?"

"I'm not certain, but whatever it is, they're willing to kill for it."

The captain frowned. "Why haven't they checked in with me?"

"I believe in this case, no news is good news, hmmmm?" Phlox eyed the monitors over the captain's bed then carefully adjusted the IV drip.

"I suppose," relented Archer grudgingly. "T'Pol would know if Trip was….was…."

Phlox glanced down at his patient with understanding eyes. "Yes, she would."

"So if she can still feel him through their bond, then there's still hope. He's still out there somewhere, still alive." Archer smiled affectionately. "And no doubt giving his captors all sorts of hell."

Phlox snorted. "Of that, Captain, I have no doubt," he replied.

Archer settled back into his pillows and stared at the ceiling again. "T'Pol won't give up until she finds him," he said more to himself than to Phlox. "She'll find him."

Phlox watched the captain for a long moment then turned away from the bed to the little table just behind him. He reached for the pitcher of water then a shadow moving across the floor caught his eye. He looked up to see the door sitting slightly ajar.

"What's wrong?" asked Archer.

"Hmmm? Oh, nothing, Captain," replied Phlox. He crossed the room, opened the door further and peered into the corridor. Medical staff hustled by and two security guards stood just outside the door. Both men glanced at the doctor then turned their attentions back to surveying the activity going on around them.

Phlox puzzled for a moment unable to shake the feeling that something was amiss then he shut the door and returned to Archer's bedside.

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Trip jolted back to reality. He'd been drifting again in the strange realm between wakefulness and sleep. He looked around his little prison then dropped his head back to the wall against which he sat, trying to blink away the last of the drug-induced fog. He closed his eyes and tried again to concentrate on T'Pol. Wherever she was, he knew she'd be thinking of him. They'd been able to connect in the past over great distances and he hoped he'd be able to see her again in that stark white room their minds shared. The situation in which he found himself, however, wreaked havoc with his ability to remain calm and he struggled to focus.

The door slid open drawing Trip's attention. Spanek stepped into the room followed by Rawlings and three other men, one of whom held a pulse rife aimed directly at the engineer.

"Ah, visitors," hissed Trip. He pushed back against the wall and rose to his feet. "Something I can do for you?"

Spanek smiled then nodded to a man in a white medical jacket. "Do it," he directed.

Rawlings and another man stepped forward and reached for Trip's arms. The commander moved to his side and turned, throwing an elbow into Rawlings' face. He connected with the man's jaw, sending him reeling. He continued to struggle against them, but was soon overtaken and shoved brutally to the floor, his cheekbone painfully hitting the hard surface. Spanek kneeled at Trip's side and yanked his head back with a fist full of hair then the man in the white jacket squatted down and pressed a hypospray to the engineer's exposed neck.

"What are you doing?" gasped Trip.

"Insuring your cooperation," replied Spanek. He released the commander's hair with a harsh jerk then stood. "A little something we picked up from the Vulcans."

"Oh, so they're good for something it seems."

The agent snorted derisively. "They're good for nothing, Trip."

Trip felt the pressure that was pinning him to the floor ease then disappear. He rolled over onto his back then squeezed his eyes shut. "What did you give me?"

"You'll find out soon enough."

Spanek's reply echoed strangely in Trip's ears sounding oddly distant and tinny. His head started to pound and he felt a sensation of building heat in his fingers and toes.

"Give him more."

The new voice sounded familiar, but Trip couldn't quite place it. He opened his eyes and looked at the figure standing in the doorway. He squinted his eyes, but it did no good. The figure wavered never quite coming into focus.

"We can't. I told you it could be fatal to humans in large doses. We can get him to give us the plans with just a small dose."

"I frankly don't care, Doctor. Give him more."

Trip saw the doctor rise from his side and watched through unfocused eyes as he moved to the figure in the doorway.

"This compound was developed for Vulcan physiology."

"Did I not make myself clear, Doctor?"

"I agreed to help your cause because I believe in it, but I will not intentionally cause this man pain. I told you the drug was virtually an unknown and I would need to monitor him closely. I am willing to do that much, but no more."

"This man is involved with a Vulcan, Doctor."

Trip squeezed his eyes shut. "T'Pol," he whispered.

"What do you mean….involved?" asked the doctor, his tone of voice conveying his disgust.

"He's bonded with her. One of my men overheard Archer talking to the Denobulan."

"They're bonded?"

Trip heard the gasps of disbelief around him.

"He's in love with her?"

"Do you understand now, Doctor? This man deserves to suffer pain. He is a traitor to all that is human."

There was a long silence and Trip opened his eyes to stare at the blurry figures. He searched his muddled mind for the owner of the mystery voice. He knew it he just couldn't get his brain to identify it.

"As vile as he is to me, I still won't cause him intentional pain."

"You will if you want to live, Tom."

"We've known each other for more than twenty years. You expect me to believe you'd kill me because of this….this boy?"

"Yes."

Trip closed his eyes again, but he heard the doctor as he moved back to his side. "You brought this on yourself, Commander," he hissed near Trip's ear.

The commander grimaced when he felt the cold blunt end of the hypospray pressed to his neck again then shivered when the contents were injected.

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"She's hiding something," said Coombs. He walked just ahead of T'Pol to the tiny transport parked in front of the Rawlings' little home. "And she's scared."

"That much is obvious," replied Reed. He reached for the door at the rear of the vehicle.

"Lieutenant," said T'Pol. "I will sit in the back. You may take the passenger seat."

The armory officer looked at T'Pol in confusion then his eyes widened slightly and he nodded. "Yes, yes, of course, Commander," he replied.

The Vulcan slid into the back of the transport as the two men settled in the front. She quickly focused her eyes on a spot on Reed's shoulder then quieted her mind. She felt a wave of relief as she felt Trip in her mind. He still lived. Then a sudden shock of pain reeled her and she reached for the back of the front seat to steady herself.

"Commander, are you all right?"

T'Pol could hear Coombs' question, but the pain took her breath away. "Trip," she managed. She closed her eyes and steadied her breathing against the onslaught. "They're hurting him."

"Commander?"

The science officer regained her center and opened her eyes to see Reed turned in his seat staring at her, his eyes full of concern.

"Do you need a doctor, Commander?" asked Coombs. He was gazing at her through the rear view mirror.

"No, Captain," replied T'Pol breathlessly.

"Is Trip okay?" asked Reed.

"No."

"Those bastards," cursed Reed harshly.

"What's going on here?" asked the captain in confusion.

The incessant chirping of Reed's communicator allowed T'Pol to ignore Coombs' question. She watched as Reed pulled out the little device and flipped it open.

"Lieutenant, we may have located Commander Tucker," said Hoshi excitedly, her voice distorted by static.

"Where?"

"The nurse at the hospital reported that one of the security guards made a call. He was able to tell us the exact time so I traced all the outgoing transmissions from that specific comm. unit. The guard contacted someone at an old Starfleet weapons storage facility just outside city limits."

"Good work, Ensign. Give me the coordinates."

T'Pol listened intently as Hoshi relayed the location of the facility. She sat back in her seat as Coombs simultaneously called for a team to meet them at the address. The captain threw a glance over his shoulder at T'Pol then added a request for a medic as well. She could still sense Trip's pain raging at the back of her mind and silently asked him to be strong.

"How did you know one of the guards was a traitor, Lieutenant?" asked Coombs when Reed cut the transmission with Enterprise.

"I didn't," replied the armory officer. "Not for certain anyway."

"Good call."

"Thank you, sir. I just hope we're not too late."

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Trip just knew his blood was acid, he just knew it, acid heedlessly burning throughout his entire body. He wanted to double over, roll himself into a little ball until the pain faded, but the guard behind him held his shoulders steady.

"The plans, Commander," demanded Rawlings.

"Go to hell," spat Trip. He stared hard at the padd that lay on the table before him. The memories of the plans were so vivid in his mind; he could see every detail as if he'd seen the schematics just seconds ago. He couldn't even remember seeing as much detail as he was seeing in his mind's eye. He shook his head. Everything he remembered was crystal clear; his childhood, meeting Archer, Lizzie's death, Sphere 41, and T'Pol. Whatever or whomever he focused on he could recall with such clarity. He could smell the ocean as he walked along the sand with his father. He could taste the beer he shared with Archer at the 602 Club. He could feel the overwhelming anger and grief at the loss of his sister.

And then there was T'Pol.

Trip squeezed his eyes shut forcing his mind away from his mate. He knew he simply couldn't handle memories of her and their life together. He concentrated instead on the strong hands gripping his shoulders and the little data padd lying before him.

"I thought you said this drug would make him compliant," said Rawlings.

"I said it made Vulcans compliant, Ely," replied the doctor. He stepped up to the table and leaned on it, watching Trip intently. "They use it for their vilara ritual, to help in the purging of memories. The drug allows all their suppressed memories to surface then they are somehow deleted. It's also supposed to relax them so they don't fight the purging."

"Look at him, Doctor," snapped the agent. "He's fighting us with everything he's got."

"He's also human," replied the doctor just as harshly. He bent down so close to Trip that the engineer could feel his breath gusting on his face. "A human who's in a lot of pain."

Rawlings slammed his fist on the table. "We need those plans, Dr. Cleary!" he shouted. "Now do whatever you need to do to insure we get them!"

An alarm sounded in the little room and Trip looked up from the padd.

"What's that?" asked Cleary as he straightened his posture.

"We're leaving," replied Rawlings. He nodded at the guard behind Trip. "Our position has been compromised."

The guard grabbed Trip's arms and yanked him to his feet. The commander gasped at the pain that ripped through him and he stumbled to his knees. Rawlings and the guard pulled him up and all but dragged him from the room.

In the hallway, Trip was aware of people moving around him. They were shouting to clear out the warehouse and get to the transports. He realized his friends were coming to get him and he smiled. T'Pol, Archer and the others were on their way. The cavalry was coming. Any moment he'd hear Malcolm's voice shouting above the din for everyone to stop then he'd see T'Pol. He'd be safe in her arms again and then the pain would all go away.

When the sunlight hit Trip's eyes, he realized he was wrong. They weren't there in time after all and they'd be back to square one in their search.

The engineer fought as much as he could when Rawlings and the guard shoved him into the back of a small transport vehicle, but the pain was too much. He had little strength left with which to fight and soon he found himself lying in a heap on the back seat. The vinyl felt cool against his heated face and he closed his eyes. He centered his thoughts on a place of warmth and comfort, the little white room.

And then suddenly he was there.

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T'Pol knew she was physically sitting in the transport as it rushed to the warehouse where Trip was being held, but she felt suddenly disconnected from Coombs and Reed as if she was being pulled away from her physical world.

He needed her, she could sense it, and she closed her eyes.

She was in the white room, their white room. Trip was lying on his side, his knees pulled to his chest and T'Pol moved quickly to him. His cheeks were flushed, his face shining with perspiration and his blue eyes bright, but not quite lucid.

She reached out and rested a gentle hand on his cheek. "Trip?"

Trip looked at her and smiled. "I knew you'd find me," he said.

"You found me, Ashayam."

The engineer grimaced and gasped. "It hurts, T'Pol."

"What have they done to you?"

"They gave me something, something to make me remember."

T'Pol brushed her fingers back through sweat-soaked hair. "What do they want you to remember?" she asked.

Trip closed his eyes under her gentle caress. "It's all so clear, T'Pol," he replied softly as if he hadn't heard her question. "I remember the first time we met." He opened his eyes and looked at her. "You turned your back on me."

T'Pol nodded, her fingers still stroking softly through Trip's hair. "I did."

"I remember every single word we ever exchanged, every look we shared," Trip continued. "The first time we were….intimate and the first time we made love as bond mates." His eyes filled with tears and he lifted a shaking hand to lay his palm against T'Pol's cheek. "I thought I was going to die feeling all the love you had for me."

T'Pol placed her hand over his where it touched her cheek.

"But you helped me," Trip continued. "And you loved me."

T'Pol squeezed his hand remembering how she'd been just as overwhelmed, but also remembering just how incredibly special their mating had been and continued to be through the bond they shared. She turned her head and kissed Trip's palm softly.

Trip pulled his hand back and clutched at his stomach. "It hurts, T'Pol," he gasped. "I think they're killing me."

"I'm coming, Ashayam, just hold on a few minutes more."

The commander shook his head. "We're not at the warehouse anymore," he rasped. "They knew."

"Where are they taking you?"

"I….I don't know," Trip replied brokenly. "T'Pol, they know about us. He was here and he knew."

"Who? Who was there?"

Trip gasped again. "Please find me….and stop them."

"I will not stop until I do, Ashayam."

The engineer smiled weakly. "That's my girl," he whispered then he turned his head as if he'd heard something.

"Trip!"

"Commander?"

T'Pol blinked.

The lieutenant was turned in his seat watching her with concern. "T'Pol, are you all right?"

"Yes, Lieutenant."

"We're almost there," said Reed comfortingly.

T'Pol shook her head. "We won't find anyone at the warehouse, Lieutenant. They've left."

"What?" blurted Coombs. "How do you know that?"

Reed's face fell as he reached for his communicator. "Reed to Enterprise."

"Did you find him, Lieutenant?" asked Hoshi, her voice filled with hope.

"Has there been any movement at the coordinates? Any transports leaving the area?"

"No, sir. What's going on?"

T'Pol sat forward in her seat. "Are you still reading bio-signs, Ensign?" she asked.

"Yes, Commander. Fifteen including Commander Tucker's."

Reed met T'Pol's eyes. "Maybe Trip was wrong," he offered.

"I don't believe so, Lieutenant. I believe we've been….tricked."

"Well, we'll know soon enough," announced Coombs. "We're here."

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CONTINUED