Disclaimer: I own neither Enterprise, nor its characters. This is for entertainment purposes only.
Author's note: I'm not sure quite what it is, but this one has got to me. It's coming out from under my fingers of its own free will. Sometimes I wish it would let me sleep.
Thanks as always to my great betas: silvershadowfire, gaianarchy and kate98.
Chapter Two: Stories and Lies
You just wouldn't understand it. That was the only reason he was doing this. People heard things, they read things, and they overreacted. And this Captain Archer seemed a bit like the overreacting type. So…
Now how would Big-Brother react? Not well: Jimmy had smelled the vomit on his breath. He'd be nervous, almost guilty. Jimmy pulled himself in and started to walk faster, keeping his eyes fixed on the floor in front of him. He refused to meet anybody's eye, but otherwise kept his expression relatively blank. Gotta look like you're trying to keep control. After all, some of these people would have known Trip for years and it would take more than a face and a uniform to fool them. But these were Trip's codes he was using, and Trip would be in real trouble if Jimmy were caught with them. They'd probably give him the death penalty for treason or something. And me too, just for spite. Of course, that was if Big-Brother didn't weasel out of things like he did last time. What kind of justice let a fourteen-year-old be tried and sentenced as an adult while his sixteen-year-old-brother got the kid-glove treatment as a juvenile? Not that he could completely blame Big-Brother... he'd gotten a decent lawyer, and Jimmy's hadn't been worth crap. Of course, they wouldn't have needed lawyers if Trip could have kept his mouth shut. Then again, he never was the one with all the brains.
Which was, of course, why Jimmy felt sorry for him. It must have been hard, knowing that even though you were the first, your brother was better than you. And all those nervous troubles, too. It was amazing that Big-Brother made it as far as he did in Starfleet anyway. From what Jimmy had heard, Trip made Commander before he was thirty, which was apparently damn near amazing. I wouldn'ta thought you'd have the backbone for it.
He found a console and started entering the codes to access the system. There had been an upside about the whole prison thing, when you considered that it bought a free-ride education. Computer Tech had seemed about right, since most everything ran on computer these days. Most systems were basically the same once you understood the underlying framework. Universality. You had to love the global culture where everything had to match everything else. Funny how Trip had become an engineer, but he'd always been the building type. Always fooling around with some gadget or another. He was a plans guy, too, even if he didn't have the vision to come up with the grand idea.
"What's going on?" Jimmy heard a voice behind him. It was that British guy from Security.
"Nothin'." Best to keep it short and sweet. They could catch you out on details, and he didn't have enough on Trip's current life to go into them. Fortunately, Big-Brother would probably be in a pretty bad mood, and not inclined to talk.
"Word is you refused medical treatment, and the captain has pulled you off duty."
Jimmy shrugged. When Trip got moody, he got defensive; that much probably hadn't changed.
"So what is it?" This guy didn't seem inclined to give up. Nosy.
Jimmy leaned both arms on the terminal and fixed the guy with a pair of glittering eyes. The guy was smart; he got the message right away and scrammed.
Now where was I? He had to find that report and fix it before Archer saw it. He wasn't going back in, even if they got God and six cops to try and make him. The only people who thought that people belonged in prison were the ones who'd never been there.
Like it couldn't happen to anybody. All you needed was a bad lawyer and a brother with a big mouth and no brain to support it.
Fortunately, it didn't look like the report had been sorted and forwarded yet: it still resided in the queue, despite the fact that it was labelled urgent. Apparently, there were a lot of urgent things, and a little report from the State of Florida wasn't as urgent as the rest of them.
Lucky for me. He pulled it up, and made a few quick edits, including one to its urgency. After all, there'd be nothing urgent about tracking down a guy who'd been paroled and was now considered an upstanding citizen. It wasn't completely a lie; comparatively, he'd done more than his share of time. 'Specially since I didn't kill anybody. Funny how someone could get away with murder, and they wanted to lock Jimmy up forever for something far less than that.
He finished up and headed back to Trip's quarters. He had promised to return the uniform, after all, and it didn't quite fit right. From the looks and feel of things, Big-Brother was starting to get out of shape. Guess bein' the boss means you get to take it easy. Jimmy'd never take it easy. You relaxed and you got soft, and if you got soft, somebody else would get you.
But that was Trip, too. Always crying about something or the other. Like when the goldfish died. Mom and Dad even tried to tell him that it was Nature, that goldfish did that sort of thing, but Trip had been miserable for days. And he couldn't even kill a snake, so it was pretty amazing that he'd actually gone and killed a person.
Then again, maybe all those psychologists were right when they said that movies could make a person do funny things. After all, you just had to look at what Trip watched. All those monster movies with all their gruesome deaths, and he'd had glow-in-the-dark zombie pictures, too. Not that Mom ever let him hang them – after all, he and Trip shared a room. And I didn't need to look at that all night. But Trip had found a solution, attaching them to the bottom of James' bunk. Then he could look up and see them, and James didn't have to. But I knew they were there.
And the way Trip talked sometimes… it was like every third word out of his mouth was a curse. God knew Jimmy didn't talk like that, or their parents, either. No… all you had to do was listen to know that Big-Brother had his share of problems. Not that he needed to be in prison, but Starfleet probably wasn't right for him either.
He was so lost in thought that he nearly bumped into someone going the other way. She looked at him oddly, as though studying him. She didn't belong in Starfleet either, based on looks: hair sticking out all over the place, and in every colour but a natural one for hair. Her eyes narrowed speculatively, but she said nothing.
"Lieutenant." That was a pretty safe bet given the insignia.
She nodded once but said nothing. It seemed almost like a challenge.
Rather than respond, he stepped around her and headed quickly to return the uniform. He couldn't keep up the act for long, not until he knew more about these people, whom Trip would probably know pretty well. He sensed her staring after him, but decided to ignore it. She probably had a crush on Big-Brother or something. Not that he'd ever return it – if there was one thing Jimmy'd give Trip credit for, it was taste in women. That chick looked like she'd escaped from an asylum or something. Weird.
He slipped into the room. Big-Brother still hadn't moved. "All taken care of. Nothing to worry about." Jimmy smiled. "I really appreciate this, brother."
Trip said nothing, just stared at him with that pit-lamped deer look.
"Hey, it went perfect. Nobody's gonna suspect a thing. Did you think I wanted to get you in more trouble? This is about saving trouble." Jimmy stripped off the uniform and changed back into his own clothing. He folded Trip's uniform neatly and put it in the hamper. Then he headed out, pausing at the door. "You're my brother. Why would I hurt you?" He smiled, and left, the question unanswered.
(dds)
Because you can. Trip felt himself beginning to shake again. He was cold, freezing. James didn't know everything. What if someone did suspect? He felt himself start to cry, helpless and hating it. James was going to destroy everything. Just let me die. Why hadn't he just said nothing? Then maybe James would have killed him, and they'd figure it out, right? And then they'd lock him up, and the only victim would be Trip himself.
A soft knock sounded on the door. He said nothing, just waited until the doorbell rang, and didn't respond to it either. There was a pause, then the door hissed open.
"Go away." It wasn't James back again, because James wouldn't have knocked.
A wry voice answered him and Hess stepped in, completely ignoring his request. "If you didn't want me opening locks, you should never have taught me to do it in the first place."
"Go. It's an order." Even she couldn't stand by him through this. This was even worse than hurting Jon. Jon might have been a friend, but Hess damn near worshiped her commanding officer. And she was such a sweet kid. Better to cut her off now than to let her get sucked in any more than she was.
"You've been pulled off duty. I don't have to listen to you anymore." Instead she came over and perched herself on the foot of his bed. She tugged on one of her bangs, as though examining it. "So, what's the story with you and this brother?"
"My brother?"
"No, mine. Apparently you promised to marry him." She punched him lightly on the foot. "Of course yours, dumbass. He's not exactly what you seem to have led people to believe."
"I haven't said anything." Other than the fact that he had a brother, he hadn't. I didn't want anybody to know.
"That's
why I said seem. I, of course, know better." She said it
loftily, but probably meant every word. If James was bright… well,
Hess was a genius in any light.
"James is my little brother."
What else could he say? After all, what had James said to her?
"Which makes it weird." She fixed him with one of her stares, the kind she'd perfected in contests with her cat. "I mean, he's got you pretty fucked up, doesn't he?"
Trip blinked. He should have expected it, really. Hess didn't skate around topics that she thought were better attacked head on. "What makes you say that?"
"Um… let's see. You've passed out twice since he's got here, something that's never occurred since I met you. Except for that… okay, a few times, but you've usually been drunk."
Trip smiled. He couldn't help it. Something about Hess always made him laugh. Part of it was the way she saw everything in an incredibly absurd light.
She smiled back. "And there's the fact that the captain yanked you off duty, after which you apparently revisited lunch. Now, given that he's let you work during episodes of near-fatal exhaustion, something tells me that it took more than a faint or two to make him do it this time. So, what's the story?"
"You don't want to know." The smile disappeared. No, she definitely didn't want to know this story.
"If you're in trouble, then yes, I do." The levity vanished from her voice. He stared at her, realising that she was dead serious.
"Hess…"
"In addition to being your second-in-command, I'm the only lawyer around here, and I've represented you for years. Anything you've done, I've got to know about."
"Yeah, well, I'm firing you." A lawyer wouldn't get him out of this mess… he shouldn't have gotten out of the first one. People would've been better off if I'd just stayed in jail.
"I'm going to take that as a statement formed in a fragile state of mind. In other words, go to hell." She didn't budge, just stared him down.
"James and I robbed a liquor store, and I shot somebody. He died." If she wanted the truth, he would give it to her.
"And?"
He sat up. "What do you mean 'and?' What kind of an 'and' do you need? I killed somebody."
"And why is this supposed to shock me?" She spread her hands, palms upward. "Now, I can't help feeling that there's a lot more that you're not telling me."
"Like…"
"Oh, like why someone like you would decide to rob a liquor store in the first place. I'm pretty sure that your motives were a lot more complicated than 'I wanted the money.'"
His motives, yes. But still… "And what makes you so sure about that?"
She smirked. "Except when it comes to women, your motivations tend to be pretty convoluted."
"You're saying I'm simple when it comes to women." He probably shouldn't be joking like this, but it felt good not to have someone loathing him, even if it was only going to be temporary.
"You just did, I didn't." The smirk changed into a grin though – obviously, he'd done something right.
"I thought… I thought that maybe if I was there, it wouldn't be so bad." He shook his head. Even Hess wouldn't believe this story. Trip was the older brother; he was supposed to be the one in control. James shouldn't have been able to boss him around the way he did. And it was a bullshit story, anyway. Who cared what he'd been thinking? They committed a crime and somebody died. Enough said, close the book and move on to something else.
She raised an eyebrow but said nothing, clearly expecting him to continue.
"Hess, I…" She didn't need this. She was a sweet kid and she didn't need all this crap coming down on her head.
"Sir, please. For me."
Trip sighed. Right there was another reason he shouldn't do this. Despite their friendship, he was and had always been her commanding officer, as long as she'd been in Starfleet… as long as he'd known her. She'd never once called him by his first name, or even his nickname. Well, at least not my usual nickname. At the same time, he did owe her something for all those drunken nights where he'd crashed on her couch – including a three-month stretch where he'd actually lived there – and all the leeway she'd given for things said before he managed to crash.
"You've got to know me and James. Even when he was little, he was different. And I don't just mean a little strange…" He stopped again. He couldn't tell this story. She wouldn't believe. Nobody believed. Oh, she might believe for a minute, but then she'd meet James and she'd wonder where Trip came up with these things.
"Scary." She summed it up in one word, somehow reading his thoughts or memories even.
Trip nodded. "Yeah. Scary. You know how snakes are cold-blooded, right? How they can't adapt to temperature changes?"
Hess nodded.
"One day, one summer, he caught one, and he took it up on top of our roof. It must have been around thirty-five, forty degrees Celsius that day, and he trapped it in one spot where the sun would be on it for hours. Now, the roof was reflecting all that heat, and he just sat there and watched it. It was like he wasn't bothered by the heat at all, but the snake," Trip shuddered, "the snake couldn't get away, and it just cooked alive. He told me all about it. He said he wondered if you could do that to a person, too. He was eight years old, Hess." Trip took a deep breath. "That's when he really started up. He used to try to kill me at night… I am not making this up."
She said nothing, just watched him.
"He used to put a pillow over my face and hold it down. He'd wait until I fell asleep, so he had more time. And… and I used to try to stay awake, but I couldn't always. Sometimes I was just so exhausted…" He'd fall asleep anyway, and James would grab his opportunity. "He used to tell me that he had complete control of whether I lived or died. And he used to… We had this really old basement, and it was full of junk and crap and it never got cleaned out. He used to trap me in there and turn out the light… you couldn't turn it on from the basement side because the switch was broken. He'd tell me about all these spiders that were down there. I'm scared – I've always been scared – of spiders. And he'd tell me how they'd bite me and suck out my blood…"
"And when you're a kid, you believe it. It's real." Hess' face was unreadable.
"And our babysitter never noticed. She was always too busy with her boyfriend or something. The one time Mom and Dad caught him at it, he said I got stuck in there accidentally, that I'd done it to myself. They believed him. I got the spanking of my life when I tried to tell them the truth. Then later, the panic attacks started."
"When you started passing out."
Trip nodded. "I mean, I didn't dare say anything, but James was getting worse and worse."
"And you care." Hess' statement was almost too cryptic to make sense. Trip wrinkled his brow, and she elaborated. "Like me. Or are you forgetting who ran through three lanes of traffic just to get me a kitten."
Trip snorted softly. "It was only two. And I knew that sooner or later he was going to get killed."
"Exactly. And you kept holding onto him when he sunk his teeth into your hand, and I know that hurts. You look at all those people who kept driving by who swore at you when you slowed them down… or the way that date of yours got so pissed at you for doing that. I hate to break it to you, pal, but you're a sensitive kind of guy." She grinned. "I mean, you were on antibiotics for a week after that, and you kept asking how he was doing." The grin disappeared and she became serious again. "For someone like you, even living with the knowledge of someone like James must have been excruciating."
Trip nodded. "So, when he told me he was going to do it… the robbery, I mean, I knew that it was going to happen. I mean, whether I was there or not, but he wanted me there… and I… I…"
"My God, Trip, you were brainwashed. I don't see how anybody could expect you to think rationally in a situation like that."
"I wasn't brainwashed. I could still think." And he should have said 'No.' He should have told James to go to hell, and called the cops. Except… they wouldn't have believed me. And James probably would have cancelled the thing, just to make me seem crazier. Which still would have been better than what happened.
"Not rationally, not clearly. You'd been systematically tortured for years. You were running in pure survival mode, convinced that your life was in the hands of your brother. It would have taken a miracle for you to defy him."
No, only an innocent death – hardly a miracle. He blinked, and a couple of tears escaped. "Someone… someone died, Hess. I… I shot him." He started to cry harder now, the pain of decades boiling to the surface and spilling over. "I… I killed somebody, and I only went to jail for a couple of years for that…"
"You shouldn't have gone at all," Hess snapped.
"I know. I should have told him I wasn't going to do it and…"
"No." The hard edge in Hess' voice cut through. "I mean you shouldn't have gone to jail at all. That's called duress, and legally it is a defence for what you did."
"Legally." Not morally though.
"I'm sorry, pal, but that's what I function on. And did you walk in there with a plan to shoot him?"
Trip narrowed his eyes. "No, but legally, that doesn't matter. I killed someone in the commission of a crime, which makes it 'felony murder.'"
"Which makes your brother and the others just as culpable as you – more culpable, in that they participated under their own free will, whereas you were coerced. One little foray into the justice system doesn't make you a lawyer, pal."
"Like you've ever tried a case," Trip muttered.
"No… but I do have the degree, which means I actually am allowed to practice in the field. And I know some of the little details that you may not." She sighed. "I can't even imagine how terrified you must have been." She studied him. "In fact… I'll lay one-to-one odds that the reason the cops cracked the case is that you turned yourself in."
"How…" How could she know that? There could have been a million ways that it might have been solved.
"Because I know you. You couldn't hold on to something like that, not when you knew that a family was suffering. You must have been in so much pain… that's what broke the conditioning, isn't it?"
He nodded and started crying again. "I knew… I thought it was the right thing. I thought… I thought that maybe now, someone might believe me." But because of his age, they wouldn't even listen to him until he had a lawyer. Eventually, the lawyer ended up saying a lot of the things that Hess was saying right now. "In exchange for my testimony, I was… I was sentenced as a juvenile. So, the record was wiped and I… I moved on. And I… I tried so hard not to think about it. I just wanted to be a better person."
"And look at you. You're a commander in Starfleet, you're chief engineer of the flagship of the fleet…" She patted his foot, "You've got great taste in friends…"
He sniffled. "Like any of them are going to want to be my friend now." Jon… he didn't want to think about Jon. God, he'd betrayed him.
"Well, I am. And you might want to have a little faith in everybody else. Maybe some people won't stick with you, but those of us who really know you will."
"But that's just it. Nobody does know me." If they did, they wouldn't have gotten involved in the first place. But he'd lied and charmed his way in, and now they were going to suffer for having the sympathy to fall for the con.
"Nobody knows the person you were. We all know the person you are. You've done so much for everybody around here. And it's real stuff, too. Remember… remember when Travis' father died, and you gave him that photo-album? Most people wouldn't have thought of something like that, but sometimes we need those small gestures of kindness. And you're so good at them, and it's not fake."
"You don't know that." After all, if everything else was, why not that?
"Honey, don't do this to yourself. You are a decent person. We've all done things in our lives that we're not very proud of. I'll bet… I'll bet there are things that Captain Archer hasn't told you about his life. Does that make him a bad person?"
"I don't think Jon was a petty criminal." Not that you could call murder petty, but it wasn't even for a decent reason. It wasn't like they were saving the world, they were simply out to steal and terrorise.
"But that's the point. You don't know. You don't even know everything about me."
"But at least I've met your family. I know you weren't making a lot of that stuff up." Not that anyone could make up a family like Hess'. When it came to things like that, reality trumped fantasy every time.
"I once hacked into government intelligence files. And I didn't even have a good reason. I could've put a ton of people's lives at risk."
"Hess…"
"I knew it was wrong, and I did it anyway. So you're not perfect. You're not even close. But you're not the devil, either. You're a human being who has been through more than most human beings ever imagine. And you were just a kid when it happened to you; you didn't have the critical skills to assess what was going on. Even adults can't deal with that. Starfleet likes to pretend so – that's why they gave us all that bullshit training in resistance… but if a person's really determined to get you, they will get you."
"You just don't give up, do you?" Hess kept saying that she had no maternal instincts, but the only person she fooled was herself. As soon as she saw someone who was hurt, she'd mother them whether they wanted it or not.
"No." Short, simple and to the point.
He sighed. "Okay. You can still be my friend. Why you want to, I don't know, but I don't think I'm going to be able to stop you."
"Well, there's no call to be so miserable about it. You should count yourself privileged to have a friend like me."
"I do." Believe me, I do. Privileged wasn't the word for it. There probably wasn't a word for it. Hess was simply the best thing that had ever happened to him.
"Hey. Don't make me put you in the shower." She shook a finger at him.
"What?" He tried to look innocent, knowing precisely what she meant.
"I know that look. That's the look that comes five seconds before 'Hess, will you marry me?' You're just usually more than a little drunk and broken-hearted when you say it. Which means that I have to sober you up and make you take it back."
He started to laugh. God, I love you, girl. "What can I say? You're wonderful."
"You're non-compos mentis. I'm not merely full, I'm overflowing with wondrous things. Which is why you love me." She paused. "Way too much to ever marry me."
He changed position, reaching over to hug her. "You are the greatest person in the world, you know that?"
"Yes… but then I am also a genius. I know most things."
He changed the hug into a headlock. "Why is it I lost the nice little sister, and got to keep the annoying one?"
"You're too ugly to be my brother," Hess countered. "If they looked like you, I wouldn't have my inferiority complex."
Yeah, right. People never understood him and Hess. Even he didn't understand it sometimes, except that there was something about her that pulled him out of his misery, no matter how deep he'd fallen. He might go under again, but at least he'd be up long enough to catch his breath, and not just keep sinking. She was ridiculous, and caring, and loyal to a fault. Past the point of a fault, really. Suddenly he felt a rush of pity for his little brother. James had no idea what he was messing with now. "Just don't do anything to him, okay?" Hess would kill James if Trip even hinted that was what he wanted. I wish he was dead sometimes, but I don't want you to do it. Dead… dead would just be easier for all concerned.
"Not unless he does something first," she promised.
"Okay." He had to give her that much. She was probably the last person on this ship who would fall for James' games, especially now. As such, James would see her as a threat. James didn't deal well with threats; he tended to eliminate them. He couldn't deny her the right to defend herself, but he prayed it wouldn't come to that. "Just don't provoke him." On the other hand, sometimes Hess needed explicit instructions.
"Awww… you're no fun." She tickled his ribs until he squirmed away.
"I don't want you getting in trouble. Not for me."
"Why not?" She contrived to look innocent, which was just plain funny if you knew her. "I do it all the time."
"You mean I get in trouble for you." At least when he got in trouble for her, it was fun. And she'd never hesitate to bail him out if things got too intense.
He glanced over at his clock. "Aren't you on-shift?"
She shrugged. "I'll just call it my break. If there was a problem, they could page me."
"Hess…" If anything would get her in trouble, it would be neglecting her duties to come talk to him. Until now, his friendship with Jon had been the only reason Jon tolerated her. The way things stood… Jon wouldn't hesitate to cut you loose.
"You need me more than that stupid engine does." This time she hugged him. "And I need you. You're my best friend in the world – even outside of it. And I'm not going to let some judgemental ass tell me that I'm not allowed to talk to you."
"That 'judgemental ass' is your captain, Hess. He actually does get to tell you things like that, especially while you're on duty." And Trip wasn't going to let her ruin her life over something so minor as timing. "And you gotta admit, this is a bit of a shock."
"He's supposed to be your friend." As though friendship was something stronger than life itself, though from her point-of-view it probably was.
"Hess, honey, there's a lot more to it than that. Yes, he was my friend, but he's just found out that I'm not the person he thought he knew."
"Yes, you are. You had all those things in your past before… I mean, how were you supposed to bring it up? 'Oh, yeah, by the way, I've spent time in jail for murder.'" She sneered. "That's the whole point of expunging the record. So you don't have to live your adult life with that hanging over your head."
"Not everybody agrees with that point-of-view." Did he? It was, in it's own way, a lie. It let you claim that you were a decent person, when in reality, you weren't.
"Yeah, well, he's done worse than that." She sounded almost like she wanted to cry, and he couldn't imagine why. "And no one has a problem with him staying on as captain and making the same decisions."
You're frustrated, he realised. Because she knew Jon's attitude hurt, and there was nothing she could do about it. "It's just…" He wasn't sure how to explain it so she could understand. "Jon's got this thing about responsibility. And… and from what he can see, I haven't had to deal with any consequences at all. Like you said, commander in Starfleet, chief engineer of the flagship…" though probably not for much longer, "… it's like I've led a charmed life. I've had nothing but good things happen to me when I should probably still be locked…"
"Bullshit!" she interrupted. "You do not deserve to be locked up – not morally, not legally. You were not the one making the decisions; it wasn't even a case of 'just following orders.' You had no say in that situation whatsoever."
"I coulda…"
"You're looking at it from now. Now, when the pressure's off. Now, when he's not in the room with you, and you've got space to breathe." Her voice grew bitter. "I'll bet there wasn't a lot of resistance when he decided to borrow your uniform."
"What?" He tried to bluff his way through it, but if she said it, then she probably knew. How, I don't know. Unless James tried something, and she caught it. Hess didn't miss much.
"I ran into him into the hallway probably about ten minutes before I came here. And don't tell me it wasn't him, because I am not a hard to recognise person. I'm pretty sure that you could have come up with my name."
Busted already. That was unusual for James, but the only way it probably happened was that he had run into Hess. If the rest of the world didn't understand their relationship, then why should James? James had no concept of friends. People were there to be used or to amuse yourself. The thought of Hess and Trip was probably too foreign even to occur to him. "Don't tell anyone, okay? I mean… No… you should tell… but…" He felt himself start to hyperventilate. This was all going bad. This was…
Hess jumped up and ran to his closet, stripping the protective covering from one of his uniforms. She folded the edges to form a makeshift bag. "Breathe into this."
He did as she instructed, the lack of available oxygen slowing down his breathing and clearing his mind. Finally, he felt steady enough to speak. "Thanks."
"No problem. I used to do that all the time, whenever I had a figure-skating competition."
He pulled back and blinked. "You were a figure-skater?"
She nodded, her lips twisting into a grimace. "Yeah. See? Something else I never told you. I was good at it, too." She sounded almost disgusted.
"But… but… there's nothing wrong with that."
"I was a figure-skater," she protested. "That's all wrong. It's so stereotypical. Cute little blond girl, and all that jazz." The grimace turned to a pout. "I wanted to play hockey. I wanted to beat-up on boys, not have them trying to look up my skirt."
"Hess…"
"I was fourteen years old, and a little stunted emotionally. I mean, I already knew what boys were interested in… I eavesdropped on my brothers a lot. And some of it sounded pretty gross."
He started laughing again, and this time he couldn't stop. He could just imagine her in a skating outfit, with her hair neatly tied back and a scowl on her face, decking the first boy who tried to say something to her, probably with her skates. He fell backwards onto the bed, gasping. "Oh God, Hess. I can just imagine the torture the poor guy who first asked you for a date went through. Seeing you in those cute little outfits and wanting to ask you out but knowing that he could probably get killed… I feel sorry for him."
"Well… I'll admit, the sparklies were okay. Figure-skaters do get to wear more sparklies than hockey players… but everything else about it is just so wrong."
"You're not a squirrel, you're a magpie," he teased. Why could nobody else see this in her? How come they all had to assume that she was anti-social and maladjusted and not see the good parts of her? I wish I'd had a friend like you, growing up. He could have used that, could have used someone who made him laugh and chased away the monsters and the ghosts.
"Intelligent and territorial. Yeah, I'll admit, that works." She glared at him. "But if you tell anybody… anybody that I was a figure-skater, I'll kill you."
"Not even Malcolm?" Now there was a guy who'd been through torture at the hands of Hess. Not that he didn't get her back occasionally, but sometimes he could use the help.
"Especially not Malcolm." Now she looked mortified. "Malcolm is the last person that needs to know about that."
He raised his hand in a mock Boy-Scout salute. "I swear. I will tell no one." She still wanted to beat up on the boys, more out of defensiveness than anything. You can't admit that you're attracted to him, can you, girl? For one thing, Malcolm was the stable, repressed type, and the last thing anyone could ever call Hess was 'repressed.' Not to your face, anyway. But she was, Trip realised. She just repressed all the 'little girlishness' about her. It came out in odd ways, like her fondness for 'sparklies' or when she got sick. In some ways, she'd never gotten to be a little girl, so she'd never had a chance to grow out of it. She'd graduated high-school at twelve, and her youngest brother was eight years older than her.
Not to mention her track record with relationships – it was probably worse than his. At least none of mine tried to emotionally abuse me. Some of the shit that Hess had put up with, it was no wonder that she found the idea of a stable relationship scary. From what he understood, her parents were still married, but all of her brothers had been divorced at least once or twice. Long-term involvement with someone who might care back – that was new territory for her. He was the closest she'd come to obtaining it – a best friend where there didn't need to be benefits. A different kind of love… but it's love all the same. Suddenly, some of his own behaviour made sense. I really should marry you. They'd probably never make it legal – they were far too platonic for that – but emotionally… You really are the only person who's truly understood me. And he had to admit, the closest he'd come to willingly killing somebody in his new life had been when he was living with her and her loser ex-boyfriend came back. Even his encounter with Degra hadn't been that much on the borderline. I never pointed a weapon at him.
"You're getting that look again," she warned. "The shower's right over there, and I'm not afraid to use it."
"Yes, Mommy." It was okay to call her that, because he'd never used that term for his own mother, at least not that he could remember.
"Oh God, you have got an Oedipal complex. Let me guess: your mother had a chest like Corporal Cole's and was as emotionally available as T'Pol."
"Shut up. Now you're getting disgusting." Right, maybe, but still disgusting. "And you're a lawyer, not a psychiatrist. You're not allowed to make claims like that."
"Well… I considered a medical degree, but I realised I'd probably enjoy cutting up cadavers, which is probably more than a little disturbing."
His face darkened, but he forced it away. She didn't need any more, not right now. What she needed to do was get back on shift, which she wouldn't do unless she thought he was okay.
"Hey… um… speaking of showers, I could probably use one." He smiled. "I'll be fine. Really."
"Okay. But call me later, okay?" She fixed him with a look that said he'd better call. "In the meantime, I'll try and keep your engines from missing you too much. They get lonely without their Daddy."
He laughed and pushed her towards the door. At the same time, she was right about one thing. The engines were like his children, and as close as he was likely to come ever to having any. Which might be a good thing. After all, if these genes could produce something like James, would it be worth the risk?
(dds)
This is almost too easy. Jimmy smiled as another one of Trip's friends came up to say hello. It seemed they all wanted a chance to get to know the brother they'd never heard anything about. Especially since he looked so much like Trip.
Then he caught sight of her again. She wasn't hard to miss. This could be interesting. After all, she was in love with Big-Brother, wasn't she? And he'd never have anything to do with something like her. Would she, he wondered, accept a surrogate?
He smiled, and she responded with a scowl that could have melted steel. She shook, like she was restraining herself from doing something she desperately wanted to do.
"Excuse me," Malcolm Reed, who'd finally got around to introducing himself, followed Jimmy's gaze and got up from the table. He walked over to the girl and said something to her, and she snapped a few words back. Reed wrinkled his brow and asked another question, and this time Jimmy focussed on her lips, and the answer came through loud and clear.
"He's just damn lucky I don't kill him." He caught hints of a high, sweet voice and a Georgia accent.
Reed rolled his eyes and said something else, and she responded by poking him in the chest and shaking her head before she stormed off. Reed looked back at Jimmy with an odd expression, then left to follow her.
Whoa. Clearly he'd misjudged something there. He could have sworn that girl had a crush on Trip, and she definitely wasn't his type. And it looked like there was a little something there between her and that Reed guy, too. Enough that Reed had known to head over to talk to her, and that she wasn't afraid of whacking him. He'd have to get more info, but fortunately, he had some great sources right here. "What was that all about?" He turned back to the two people left at the table, Travis Mayweather and Hoshi Sato. Now she was more Big-Brother's type – classically pretty, and not freakish.
"Beats me," Mayweather shrugged. "Then again, most things about Lieutenant Hess do. She's known your brother longer than anyone else around here, and she's pretty protective of him." Mayweather grinned. "She's probably confused by you, and that's not something she's used to dealing with. And if she thinks you've got anything to do with what's been happening with him lately…"
"I might," Jimmy admitted. "I mean, my just being here might be a reminder of when he used to have those attacks… from what everybody says, they only started when you got my mayday."
Sato nodded. "I've never seen anything like it before. I mean, he wasn't freaked out when we were in a ship full of cadavers with the bodily fluids being sucked out of them, but one word from you, and he just… dropped." She shuddered, whether at the memory of the corpses or of Trip's faint, he wasn't sure.
"Yeah, that sounds like my brother. He was always obsessed with horror movies and such." Jimmy softened his voice. "Sometimes it was hard to tell if he saw a difference between them and real life. I mean, he was obsessed with the idea of zombies… and after he saw that one, Frankenstein, well, he went up on the roof for five nights straight, waiting for lightning. In Florida, that's not always a good idea, because you might get it. But the funniest things could set him off. Once, it was just scrambled eggs for breakfast." And then he'd tried to claim that Jimmy had spent the night describing what your brains would look like if they were smashed out of your head, and the eggs looked like that. Mom and Dad hadn't believed him though. They'd just looked at each other and told Trip not to be so ridiculous and melodramatic. As for the lightning episode… it got even scarier when you realised that he took that dead cat with him every time.
"Wow." Mayweather stared at Jimmy like he'd been hypnotised. "Just something like that, huh? I wondered why he'd never eat them…" he frowned, "… well, it seems to depend on how they've been done."
Really? That was interesting too. He was learning so much about Big-Brother during this. "And what's the thing between Lieutenant Hess and Lieutenant Reed?"
Sato and Mayweather exchanged looks and grinned. "Well," Sato said, "I think they're both interested in each other, but neither one can admit it. And they're both pretty good friends of your brother's. Next to Archer and Hess, I'd say Malcolm is the best friend your brother has here."
Again, not what I expected. Big-Brother had never been good at making friends, and now he had a whole shipfull. Admittedly the bulk of them seemed to be freaks and geeks, but even they hadn't spent a lot of time with Trip when he was younger. Any friends Trip claimed to have were Jimmy's friends, really.
As for these ones… didn't they deserve to know the truth?
(dds)
Trip felt like his skin was going to come off, and it had nothing to do with needing a shower. What is he doing? After all, there weren't a lot of people around here like Hess. Most of them probably would believe the stories James would tell; James was good with a story. And since I never told them anything… they had nothing to compare the stories too, nothing against which to check the facts. Knowing James, he would stick to facts. I'm not the only one who likes to lie by omission. The problem was that James was so convincing, that nobody bothered to dig further.
He didn't need to stay here, he'd been removed from duty, not confined to his quarters. But out there… everybody would be staring. Whether it was the novelty of having two identical looking people walking around at the same time, or whether they'd heard something – it didn't matter. They'd still be staring, still be watching. No, he didn't want to be out there. Maybe…
Maybe if Jon was still my friend…but there was that to contend with too. Just knowing how much Jon hated him right now was enough to keep him in here. I can't risk running into him. I can't deal with that. That was his problem, though, wasn't it? He couldn't deal. He'd never been able to deal. He hadn't dealt with James, he hadn't dealt at all when Lizzie died… Not unless you call endless sleepless nights and obsessively working yourself to pieces 'dealing.' And when T'Pol stepped in to help, he made the colossal mistake of falling in love with her. Except it probably wasn't love, it was probably more along the lines of dependence. Hadn't he said it himself? That he hadn't figured it out until he knew he was going to lose her? Wasn't that one of the signs of addiction?
She wouldn't be there for him with this. Not with her newfound interest in Vulcan conservatism and the way logic laid a solid line between right and wrong. Between Jon's contempt and hers… and how would Malcolm react? He wasn't willing to chance it either way with Malcolm. Nope, all he had was one guardian angel who you couldn't beat off with a stick. And she couldn't stick by him twenty-four/seven and still pull off her other job as acting chief engineer.
If you do anything to her, Jon…
Trip took a deep breath and shook his head. No… no, he couldn't deal. Instead, he dug into his footlocker, for something he'd stashed there long ago. He hadn't fallen back on them when Elizabeth died, but now… He caressed the small bottle with one hand, staring at the label whose clear print he couldn't read. Slowly he removed the cap and poured a couple of small white pills into his hand. No. At least, not yet. He replaced the pills, but put the bottle where he could more easily get at it. 'Yet,' that was key. He knew from hard experience never to assume that things couldn't get worse. They can always get worse. Especially with James. Especially with James. He wasn't sure how much difference one loyal friend could make; he'd never had one before.
He tried to do some work, or just play around with some research he'd been interested in, but he couldn't concentrate. He gave it up and began to pace, trying to burn off excess energy. Pacing, push-ups, crunches… The old prison routine. Just because there was no place to go, didn't mean that you didn't have to move. He smiled, darkly. Starfleet had been impressed when he first showed up – the physical tests weren't even close to a problem. Lots of time to get in shape when you're not doing anything else. Amazing how much energy you burned in your daily life – just running class to class or job to job – and you never noticed it until you found yourself locked up, and it began to build.
He'd let himself slide, though. Over the years there'd been better things to do: beers with a friend, or movies, or even an evening with someone… female. You sometimes forgot how precious that was too… until you remembered the alternative.
At the same time, some of it stuck with you. Jon might have joked about needing 'to make friends with that Nauscican,' when they were on that prison ship, but he had no idea how close to the truth he really was. He'd felt himself automatically adjusting and taking stock of the roles – and God, had that been scary. Jon might have done okay in that prison full of Suliban, but they were just people… they weren't people for whom mayhem and violence were a way of life.
I let myself get soft. He'd actually come down and started to trust people. Started to think that maybe they wouldn't hurt him, that maybe…
Stop it. He couldn't start thinking like that again. He couldn't start trying to assess everybody's ulterior motives and discover what it was of his that they wanted. He had to stop thinking in terms of simple survival. You're not in prison, and they can't put you in there again. Put him out of Starfleet maybe, but not back into prison. He hadn't done anything illegal – he'd checked with his lawyer to find out what he did and didn't have to disclose. Besides, there was always another option. Sure, they watched you, but they couldn't watch you all the time. All he needed was seventy milliamps, and there was more current than that running through all of these walls. And after the incident with Sim… I made damn good and sure that 'no heroic measures' thing got on my file. Not that Jon would try to save him now, though he might get mad that Trip once again found a way to escape justice.
And wasn't that hilarious. Back in the old days, when they had the death penalty, they kept guys on death-row on a suicide watch, so they'd be hale and hearty for the executioner. What was the point of that? Dead was dead, wasn't it? Out of the way, no longer a problem? And felony murder is one of the things they handed it out for.
He finally stopped, exhausted and covered with sweat. I really do need that shower, now. He stripped off the rest of his clothes and left them on the floor as he headed into the bathroom. In the shower, he let the hot spray pound into his muscles and closed his eyes. He felt almost human again. He felt almost…
"You are getting soft."
Trip jumped and spun, eyes widening as they fixed on James standing uninvited in the doorway.
"You should listen more, brother." James stepped into the bathroom and Trip shrank back into the corner of the shower. "Anybody could sneak up on you in here."
"Get out." Trip wished his voice had more force, more authority. He couldn't help it, though. He'd never been able to give orders to James.
"I'm just looking out for your best interests. After all, you know what it's like. Especially…" James flicked his eyes around the room.
Yeah, I do. Now, that had been something that raised a few eyebrows back at the Academy. They must have really wondered about me. It had taken years before he felt safe stepping into a shower again. Knowing he could do it without someone… he felt the acid and bile rising from his stomach and burning in his throat. He couldn't throw up, he had nothing left to throw up, but his body reacted instinctively nonetheless.
"I don't need to worry about that anymore," he rasped. At least I didn't.
"Anything can happen, brother. You never know where you're going to end up."
Well, that was true enough. James' presence served as more than enough proof of that.
"I wonder if it really would do that," James mused.
"What?" The shift in conversation terrified Trip. Where are we going now
"Like in that movie you liked so much. When all that girl's blood just swirled down the drain. I don't know how much it would, though. I mean, it would be spraying everywhere if you did her like he did… it wouldn't just drain down… at least not until the heart stopped completely, and the pressure was gone. The water would actually make things worse if it was a shower, because you'd have it splashing… it would just be a mess."
And that would bother you? In prison, James wouldn't have needed to make friends because he would be the guy people wanted to be friends with. Because if you're not…
"What's wrong? You look pale." James sounded almost amused. "I thought you liked those movies."
"I… I just…" Trip edged his way out of the shower and past his brother, making a break for the relative safety of the next room. James laughed, watching as Trip scrambled into a fresh set of clothes.
"Relax, brother. I just wanted to make sure you were okay." James sauntered casually towards the door. "After all, this has been a rough day on you. I just got my brother back, I'd hate to lose him again so soon."
Trip whimpered softly, staring after James until his brother was gone. Then he grabbed his bottle and made his own escape into the hall.
Please, please, please, please, please. The cabin wasn't far, and with any luck, she'd be in there.
She opened the door at his first ring, staring at the wide-eyed form that filled her doorframe.
"Can I sleep with you?" His voice came out soft and almost whispery. A child's voice.
Hess stepped back, letting him in. "Of course, you can. Hey… hey." She locked the door as soon as he was inside and guided him over to the bed. "Just… just lie down, okay?"
He nodded and did as she told him, and she covered him with a blanket. Evil Thing jumped up on the foot of the bed, then walked up to sniff Trip's face and breath, confirming his identity. Hess lifted Igor up as well, and both cat and rabbit tucked themselves up against him.
"That's nice." At least they still liked him too. There was something calming, something safe about their presence. A collection of damaged creatures. But they weren't enough. They couldn't save him from the monster.
"Here." Hess brought him a mug and sat down beside him. He sat up slightly and sipped it. Hot milk. He let it soothe him, leaning his head against her shoulder. "What happened?"
He shook his head. He didn't want to talk about it. I just don't want to sleep alone.
"Was it James?"
Trip nodded.
Hess chewed on her lip, obviously trying not to say something. "I don't want you anywhere near him. You stay with me, okay?"
"Okay." There was no need to ask twice. You're safe. You won't hurt me. She could keep the monsters at bay. Hess would keep him safe.
Milk and exhaustion caught up with him and he felt his eyes closing. "Stay here?"
"I'll stay." She wiped off the tear that streaked down his cheek. He took her hand in his and held it tight, keeping contact. Only then could he slip off into oblivion.
