Disclaimer: I own neither Enterprise nor its characters, or there would be some significant differences from the current situation. I make no money from this.

Author's Note: Yes, this is the last chapter of this one, and thanks to my great beta-readers. But just because Paramount gave up on these characters doesn't mean that I have.

Chapter 5: Truth and Justice

Jon woke and froze, realising that what woke him was the hiss of the door. Someone's here. He hit the lights, gearing up to blast the hell out of whoever had the idiotic stupidity to sneak in. Light revealed an empty room; the only other occupant was Porthos, curled up at the foot of the bed.

"What's going on, pal?"

The beagle stirred and looked at him, quizzically.

Had someone entered? Wouldn't Porthos have woken up and sounded an alarm like he always did? Maybe it was a dream, maybe he was just stressed, imagining something. Except… something didn't seem right, something was out of place. He scanned the room more carefully, his gaze alighting on the desk. A padd lay out of place – he was sure he put them all back in the drawer.

Getting up, he ventured over and picked up the device. It was clean, devoid of even the usual fingerprints that marred every padd ever used. It was polished, as though whoever had brought it didn't want to be identified.

Smart. He spotted something else. Maybe not smart enough. A short blond hair lay on the floor; the intruder left a piece of themselves behind.

He switched on the padd and nearly dropped it when he caught sight of the contents. State v. Tucker. Court transcripts of the trial, curiouser and curiouser. As he read, his mouth hardened into a tight line. Any more lies you want to try telling me?

(dds)

What a guy. Reality wise, this wasn't a big ship, but somehow Big-Brother had managed to completely disappear and from the sound of things left a shipload of disaster behind him. You had to hand it to the guy – he could certainly accomplish things.

"'Cept you shouldn't abandon family like that." Jimmy shook his head, sadly. Trip shouldn't be on his own; he was no good at it. He needed someone looking after him. Otherwise, he was prone to doing all sorts of crazy things.

And that chick with the hair… what had the captain called her again? Hess? 'Pest' was more like it. Just who did she think she was, getting a restraining order that said Jimmy couldn't see his own brother? Lawyers. Not even scum of the earth, because at least scum had redeeming qualities.

"Bitch." He picked up one of Trip's pictures and stared at it for a while. A whole group of them standing together, Trip and the mutant freak prominently front-and-centre. Grinning like idiots over something or other. From the way people talked, Trip treated her like a little sister or something. Bastard hadn't even bothered to stick around for Elizabeth's funeral, even though Mom and Dad waited until Trip got back, and now Jimmy knew why. This little slut, with her little kid's face and that honey-sweet voice, stole Trip away from his own family. Probably had him brainwashed or something.

"You should really learn some manners." Girl had a big mouth; he remembered that from down in the brig. Yappin' away about any and everything. Stupid cunt lawyer with her fancy degree, acting like going to two schools meant she knew everything.

He sat down at Trip's computer and pulled up a crew roster. Captain had said to confine her to quarters, meaning Jimmy had a pretty good idea where she might be right now. Just find out where that is… Then he'd just have to wander by and see if there was a guard like the Captain asked for.

He opened her personnel file and frowned. Apparently, Jon hadn't been kidding when he said the bitch beat up on MACOs for practice. Family full of cops and lawyers. Wasn't that what they said? Well, those brothers weren't here, and he had advantages those MACO boys didn't. Girl like her shoulda known better anyway. What mighta her brothers done if someone tried to take her away from family? She was the one that broke with the code, profaned that which anyone held sacred.

As for that skinny security guy she was probably doing – that guy probably was grateful for any woman who'd have him – Jimmy could handle him without even having to try. Not that he expected to have to; he planned to avoid confrontation as much as possible.

He smiled, tracing a finger across her file photo, the first time he'd seen her without her hair gone wild. She looked normal… kinda cute if you went for the elfin look, almost fragile. She didn't look old enough to be a Starfleet engineer, or a lawyer, let alone both. Why she had to go ugly herself up made no sense at all. Crazy. Jon seemed to agree with that.

She wasn't going to stay pretty, though. What he had in mind would take care of that problem for her, permanently.

Lesson needs to be learned. Nobody screwed with Jimmy's family. If you didn't look after your family, you weren't worth nothin'. Trip would understand, once Jimmy had a chance to set him straight, to undo the damage that had been done to him.

Lawyers. The trouble started with the lawyers, cunt lawyers like Trip had last time, telling him to cut a deal, telling him to betray his family. It had to be that bitch that did that… Trip would never have done it on his own.

'Cept he'd been on his own, and that was the problem. That was how they brainwashed you, wasn't it? Separated you from your family, from the people who really cared about you, fed you the same message over and over, 'bout how they knew what was best for you? Trip wasn't strong and he was easily confused. "I gotta get you back, Brother. For your own good. We're family, Brother. You an' me. Inseparable." People used to say that all the time about them. Inseparable. Even in school, if they weren't in class, they hung out together. People thought it was nice, Trip looking after his little brother and letting him tag along, even though Trip was the tag-along. But Jimmy didn't care, because Trip was his brother and brothers stuck together. Even then, if you messed with one, you were messing with both.

Jimmy turned off the console. One nice thing: Trip had a lot of tools right here in his quarters. He wouldn't have to go searching and asking before he could build the things he needed to make that bitch pay.

No guard, that was good. It seemed like Jon's authority wasn't as all-encompassing as the man liked to think it was. It suited Jimmy though, meant one less person to have to talk to.


He disabled the lock and stepped inside as soon as the door opened. Despite the hour, the lights were on and the girl was up. Not in uniform, though, and her civvies looked as mismatched as the rest of her. Short skirt paired up with clunky boots and she had on about three different shirts, all with different sleeve-lengths and materials.

"Hey. I've been worried about you." She crossed the floor quickly, looking all concerned. She stopped at the last second though, as though sensing something was up.

Too late. He swung his weapon around, but the chick was fast, moving inside the range. Before she could touch him though, he struck, his homemade stunner working perfectly, sending a jolt of current into her system that dropped her instantly.

He bent down and checked her pulse. Out cold, but still alive. Good. He wanted her alive, he wanted her to suffer for what she'd done.

He pulled out a coil of wire he'd found in Trip's quarters and bound her hands and her feet then taped her mouth shut. He wanted to get her somewhere safe, before he let her start screaming.

"And you're going to scream." He opened the large duffle from Trip's closet – an old equipment bag or something. He had to fold her slightly to get her in, but not tight enough to have to break any bones. Girl wasn't even five feet, though she was heavier than she looked.

No one paid attention to a man walking down a corridor and carrying a bag. It was too normal a thing to take notice of – Jimmy learned that listening to guys bitch on the Inside. Anomalies, that's what people noticed. Weird stuff.

He carried her back to Trip's quarters, dropping her roughly on the ground while he turned to scramble the codes on the lock and disable the intercom so no one could turn it on and listen in. People did that sometimes, but he wanted this to be a private thing, just the two of them.

Kneeling down, he unzipped the bag. She still wasn't moving. He reached in to pick her up and jerked back as she suddenly grabbed his wrist in her hands, digging her poor excuses for nails deep as she could into his flesh.

He smacked her hard, open hand but enough to hurt. "Behave yourself, bitch."

Fear flashed in her eyes but quickly died, as though she knew that was what he wanted and she was too stubborn to give it to him. She'd give it, though. Before he was done she'd be begging him, crying.

He looped a piece of wire around her neck and connected it to the bonds on her feet. Her eyes widened as she realised what it meant. She went perfectly still; struggling would only mean strangling herself. He didn't think she'd do that, not at this stage in the game. Everything everybody said about this girl said she was a fighter. That was okay, because Jimmy liked to fight.

He picked her up and carried her over to the bed. Fear raced across her features again and hid behind defiance. He sat down beside her and ran a finger over her face. Such delicate bone structure, so easy to smash. She stiffened and tried to pull away, but there was nowhere for her to go.

"You took my brother away. That was wrong."

She looked like she wanted to say something, so he reached down and ripped the tape away from her mouth, pulling some of her skin with it. Blood stained her lips like makeup, bright, wet and inviting. "You did it yourself, asshole. He's got brains, he knows what you are."

"I'm his brother!" He hit her again, and the mattress bounced as the impact ran through her. He moved in closer, his face right up next to hers. "I'm his brother. You're nothing. And he'll see that." She smelled good, just a hint of vanilla, making him hungry. He kissed her, unsure which he enjoyed more: the salt-taste of her blood or the stiff resistance of her revulsion. He felt himself getting hard. He hadn't considered this as an option, not really – it was more of a pleasant diversion. She was helpless, just the way he liked them.

He ran his finger over her collarbone then dipped it lower, under the neckline of her halter-top. She shook but didn't otherwise move, trapped by the wall and the wire.

He kissed her again, but this time she reacted, trapping his lip between her teeth and biting down hard.

"Bitch!" He punched her in the mouth, felt those teeth give. "I am in charge here." He punched her again, with each word.

She gasped but didn't scream. Her eyes grew fierce, as though she thought she could threaten him. He could see her twisting her hands behind her back, trying to slip through the wire, but he'd wrapped it tight and it was sunk into her flesh with no room to expand. He reached for his waistband.

The door hissed open, and Jimmy looked up, startled and angry, his anger disappearing when he saw who it was. "Big-Brother. Hey. Get in here."

(dds)

Where the hell is he? James should have come looking by now, seeking out the out-of-the-way corners where Trip might hide. He pulled the padd he'd pilfered out of his pocket and used it to tap into the security monitors, working slowly, one camera at a time. No James, but…

Trip tried to swallow, but his mouth dried and he felt his chest constrict. There was a security team outside Hess' quarters and…

He killed the video, tapped into the comm.

"Find her, gentlemen. I want to talk to her." Jon's voice; he didn't sound happy.

Oh, God, Nicci, no. She had a habit of sneaking out when she was confined to quarters, but somehow he didn't think that was the case this time. If James hadn't come for him…

He felt himself begin to panic. James could be anywhere… it was a big ship, he'd never find them…

Get ahold of yourself, Trip. Funny, but the words came with Jon's voice, the voice that got through no matter what the level of panic – back in the good old days of friendship. "You're right." He had to stop and think. He'd learned that… Jon had taught him. He wondered if Jon knew that, knew that despite everything he still considered Jon more than a friend, but a mentor… a hero. Jon would probably be disgusted at that fact, really.

"Think, Trip." James… James didn't think. James was impulsive, he wasn't a planner. He thought he was a planner but he never took details into account, never credited other people with intelligence. So where would he take her, where would he feel safe in doing whatever he had planned?

His quarters. No… someone might go looking for him, and go there. "My quarters." Trip started to run, knowing that had to be it. It would make perfect sense to James – Trip's territory was fair game for James, always had been.

The door refused to respond to his code – James must have scrambled the lock. Trip didn't even bother to swear, just yanked the panel from the wall and hotwired the door. It slid open and the first thing he saw was his duffle lying open in the middle of the floor. He stared at it for a long second wondering what it was doing there. He forced his eyes to move. Hess lay on his bunk, bound and beaten. James lay beside and it didn't take a genius to figure out his plans.

You son-of-a-bitch. Rage bubbled up, overwhelming panic.

"Big-Brother. Hey. Get in here." James smiled and stood up, not afraid in the least. Of course he wasn't. Trip wasn't a threat, never had been.

Trip moved sideways, putting himself between James and Hess. How many times had she done the same thing for him? Shielding him from trouble, no matter what the risk to herself. Look after me and I'll look after you. All these years, she'd never asked for the payback, never once asked for him to make up for all the times she'd been a shoulder to cry on or someone to laugh with. He owed her and it didn't matter what it cost. "Get out of here, get the fuck away from her."

James didn't listen… of course he didn't. He stepped closer with that look on his face, the one that said Trip was being stupid and James would do what he wanted. Trip dropped his head and shoved his hands into his pockets.

"Trip." James took his brother's face in both hands lifting it up to look him straight in the eye. "Listen to me. You're my brother. We're family. Do you understand that?"

Trip nodded.

"She tried to take you away… I know she did. I had to show her, Trip. I had to show her that you don't mess with us. You understand that, don't you?"

Trip nodded again.

James smiled. "Good. I knew you would."

Trip struck, smashing his fist into his brother's temple, the barbs of his old rings digging into the thin flesh and opening it up. His other hand caught James on the chin, for the same combination of impact and blood. James was too shocked to react, never expecting the mouse to turn vicious.

Trip landed some more shots, concentrating on the face. Blood ran into James' eyes, blinding him. He tried to fight back but Trip was too angry to notice the blows. He slammed his fist hard into James' eye and James screamed, blood now mixing with something else from a punctured eyeball. He heard more yelling and ignored it. Only one thing mattered: punishing James.

Arms grabbed him and pulled him away from his target. Security had arrived, too late to be any good. He didn't bother to resist as they fastened the restraints, just turned pleading eyes to Malcolm. "Don't put them in Sickbay together… please; just get her out of…"

Malcolm's face was unreadable. "I will. It's okay."

They started to take him away. "Malcolm." He twisted, turned back. "They're in a storage locker. 308. Make sure…"

"308." Malcolm repeated. "Okay. It's going to be okay."

Trip let himself be led away. What happened now, didn't matter. Nothing mattered.


He wondered if he should do it. It wouldn't be hard, just take the panel off and…

"I hope you're not trying to escape again."

Trip jumped, spinning around in the cell to face Malcolm. "I…"

"Phlox says she'll need some reconstructive surgery, but she'll be okay." Malcolm opened the door to the cell and stepped inside. He held a case in one hand, setting it down on the floor as the door closed behind him. "I didn't think you should be alone right now, though." He opened the door of the case and Evil Thing jumped out, running over to Trip and begging to be picked up.

Trip scooped the cat up and stared at his friend. "You didn't… I mean…"

"I have things to do." Malcolm picked up the carrying case again and backed out of the cell. "So I'll leave him to keep an eye on you. Don't do anything that will leave him traumatised. And don't say anything to anybody about this." Malcolm smiled, an odd, twisted smile. "She'd tell you the same thing."

Trip nodded, Evil Thing's purring sending comforting vibrations into his chest. He let the warmth of the cat's body soothe him as much as it could. Hess was safe… James would never touch her again. Maybe too, people would see.


He wasn't sure how long it was, maybe hours, maybe minutes. The outside door opened again. It wasn't Malcolm, though. "Jon."

"Tell me a story, Trip." Jon wore his 'don't argue with me' face. Even if he'd wanted to, Trip couldn't. But he didn't want to. Look after me… Too many years of friendship were in that face.

"What do you want to know?" He turned his eyes away, unable to hold Jon's gaze. Evil Thing now lay draped across his shoulders, chewing comfortingly on one of Trip's ears, a living security blanket. Living. Alive. The weight on his shoulders meant almost nothing compared to the weight on his heart.

"I want to know what happened. And this time, I don't want the abridged version." An odd look crossed Jon's face, an almost wry, bitter smile. "Don't worry… I have it on good authority that you can't be tried for the same crime twice."

Trip sighed. So it was that story then. He stared off into the distance. Into memory.

(dds)

"I don't want to do this, James. It's crazy." Someone was going to get hurt. Trip knew it. Someone always got hurt with James around.

James shrugged. "Okay. We don't need you anyway." He turned his back on Trip pulled something out of his backpack. Here in the safety of their room, James didn't worry about anything. Mom and Dad respected privacy, especially for a pair of growing teens.

I don't want to know. Trip forced himself to focus on his schoolwork. He had a physics test next week and he didn't want to blow it. Most of this was math anyway and Math was his worst subject. Trying to memorise all those formulas and figure out which variable was supposed to be x and which y… It really wasn't easy with James in the room. But he'd already failed one semester, he wasn't going to do it again.

Those stupid fires. It started with a stolen car, torched on a back road, but James could never be satisfied. He kept getting bolder and bolder, and more careless. Then Trip had opened his locker one day to find matches and a bottle of accelerant. Framed by my own brother. He'd disposed of them, begged James to stop. And now…

He heard a click behind him, metal on metal. "I wonder if this thing still works."

He couldn't help it. He turned around and found himself facing an antique handgun, polished and gleaming. James had it pointed at his brother's chest. "What… what is that for?" He didn't want to know, but couldn't keep the images of a projectile smashing into his chest, ripping and its way though flesh and blood vessels, he couldn't keep those images out of his mind.

"What do you think?" James sounded almost cheerful. He probably had the same images in his mind.

"Look." Trip tried to think of a way to talk James out of this crazy plan, and knew there was nothing. "I'll… I'll help. Can I see that?" Maybe he could find a way to disable it, render it into nothing more than a club.

"No." James suddenly clutched the gun close, smiling slyly. "It's mine. I'll keep it." He laughed a bit. "Nice try, though. You're so soft, brother. Always worrying. Worry, worry, worry. You're going to die of worry."

Somebody has to. James didn't. James never worried about anything. He just lied and manipulated his way out of the consequences. Making Trip look crazy as he did it.

"Do you have a plan?" A stupid question. James never had a plan.

"Well, we're going in, we're gonna take what we want and get out of there." As if anything could be that simple, though in James' mind it always was.

"What about security?" Trip asked.

James stared at him as though he'd started speaking another language. He probably had – the language of common sense. "There's no…"

"Cameras, scanners, alarms? Of course there are." Why couldn't James see how stupid this was?

"So?"

"Why… why don't you just forget it? There's got to be…"

"Okay. I'll forget it." The answer came too quick to be believable, but Trip didn't fight. He returned to his homework, hoping for a miracle.

Trip woke up to the weight of James sitting on his chest. James leaned over and placed his arm across Trip's throat. "I want you to help me with it. You know all about cameras and scanners… you know all about things like that."

"James…"

James bounced slightly, sending a jolt of pain through Trip's chest. "I want you to do it."

"I'm…" Trip gasped for breath, lights flashing in his vision.

James reached up and pulled the gun out from under his mattress and placed the barrel against Trip's face, just under his eye.

"I want you to do it, Trip. I don't need you to. Do you understand that? If I kill you, what happens to Lizzie? Because I won't have my brother to play with anymore."

"Okay." His voice came out a bare whisper, his attention focused on the cold metal that promised to destroy him if he didn't agree. Lizzie didn't deserve James' attention. She'd done nothing to earn that kind of hell.

James nodded. "Say it."

"You're better."

"Again."

"You're better."

"Again."

"You're better."

"Right." James grabbed Trip's hair and pulled it hard. "I'm better and you have to look after me, because you're the big brother. You promised Mom and Dad you'd look after me and not let me get hurt. Remember that. So think up a plan, Big-Brother." James smiled. "This is going to be so much fun."


Oh, God, help me. I don't want to… Trip choked down bile, feeling it burn his throat, tears stinging at his eye. James played with the gun and the light in his eyes was scarier than even the thought of getting caught.

"James… let me take it, please. There… there's a lot of recoil on those… I did some reading." He didn't want the gun, but he knew it would be worse in James' hands.

"You're going to chicken out on me, aren't you?" James accused. "I said you're doing this. What don't you understand?"

"I'm doing it, I'm doing it. I… I'm just trying to look after you, that's all."

The other two watched disinterestedly. They were in this for the thrill and for the money… they didn't care about who carried the gun. Trip wasn't even sure if they'd stick with the plan. He wasn't even sure James would stick with the plan – after all, the plan called for nobody to get hurt.

James shoved the gun at his brother. "Take it, then. But don't you dare chicken out on me."

"I won't." The gun was heavier than Trip expected. He tried to see a way to disable it, but James hit him.

"Let's go. Come on."

Trip nodded and pulled the mask down over his face, while the others did the same. He reached into his pocket and took out a small box, throwing a switch on the side. "Okay, scrambler's on." He tucked the device back into his pocket and said a prayer to anyone who might listen. Then it was too late.

They burst into the liquor store, James and the other two yelling at the top of their lungs, telling the clerk to open the till, grabbing some bottles and smashing others. Trip froze, watching the clerk reach under the counter to hit an alarm that wouldn't be heard, not with the scrambler running. James jumped up on the counter and grabbed the money and they started to back towards the door.

Suddenly, the clerk charged them, screaming. Trip panicked, his gun hand coming up automatically. He didn't even feel his finger tighten on the trigger before the weapon jerked in his hand. The clerk was too close to miss, he was knocked backwards in a spray of red, screaming even louder now.

"Ohmigod!" Trip dropped the gun as the others fled. He stared for a moment then rushed forward, pressing his hands against the wound, trying to stem the flow of blood. "Hang on… ohmigod." He had to do something… anything. There was a comm panel behind the register. He raced over and hit the emergency button. Nothing happened and he remembered the scrambler. He fumbled with it, finally turning it off. He hit the button again then headed back to the clerk, trying again to stop the bleeding.

Hands grabbed his shoulder, pulling him away. "Come on. Let's get out of here. Now." James pulled harder. Trip could see his eyes through the mask and they gleamed.

"We should help him… He's gonna…"

"He's stupid. Let's go. Come on." James picked up the gun and pointed it at Trip. "Don't you be stupid too."

Trip ran, knowing James would be happy to shoot him, knowing he couldn't win. Hopefully… hopefully the emergency people would get there fast, but the guy didn't look good. He knew the truth, better than he knew his own name. I just killed somebody.

(dds)

"It took three days before I had the guts to go to the cops." Trip's hands shook and tears ran down his face. "I was the only witness they had, so they cut me a deal… I was the only one willing to talk. 'Cause I turned myself in… I confessed. I… I didn't want a deal… my lawyer said I should."

"Why the hell didn't you tell me this in the first place?" Jon snapped.

"When I got out, I wanted to start over… I didn't want to… I just wanted to have a life."

"I mean, why'd you give me the edited version when I asked?" Jon stood in front of the door, his arms crossed over his chest. He uncrossed them and held up a padd. "You're just damn lucky you've got friends like the ones you do."

Trip stared at the small screen, reading the words from years ago. Truth, testimony and judgement, preserved forever in public record. Not his case – James'. Tried in adult court, a fourteen-year-old criminal mastermind. "How… why?"

"How do you think?" Jon re-crossed his arms and glared. "The point is, you should have told me. You should have trusted me."

"I know." Trip lifted the cat off his shoulders and hugged him like a teddy-bear. Evil Thing didn't protest, instead he purred louder as though he knew Trip needed the comfort. "I just know… you're a good person, Jon. Probably the best one I know. I was so scared to lose you as a friend, and then when you found out…" He fought to control his voice, to keep it from shaking. "…I did. I didn't think you needed to hear a bunch of excuses…"

"No." Jon agreed. "But it would have been nice to know the details. It would have been nice to have been given a chance to understand."

"I'm sorry." Trip sat down on the bunk, his shoulders bowing. He didn't have the strength to stand anymore.

Jon punched the controls and the door slid open. Trip looked up in surprise.

"Apparently, for a weapon's charge, we need a weapon. As for the assault… witnesses aren't talking." Jon's tone became dry.

Trip clearly remembered surrendering the rings to Malcolm, so… "James…" Surely James had jumped at the chance to point the finger at Trip.

"Your brother had an accident." Jon's face betrayed nothing. "Phlox doesn't think he'll be able to walk again."

"An…" Trip flashed to Malcolm's face, carefully controlled as he took in the scene in Trip's quarters. "I expressed my displeasure in no uncertain terms." "Okay." After all, maybe it was an accident. "He…"

"He's trying to say that Malcolm tried to kill him, but I find that rather difficult to believe." There was no irony in Jon's voice, nothing in his face. "Malcolm's an exemplary officer. Your brother, on the other hand, has quite a history of lies."

"He does." Trip didn't bother saying more – he wasn't sure what he was skating on, probably still quite thin ice. Besides, given the choice, he'd support the justice of one of Malcolm's lies to the heartbreak of James' truths.

Jon stared at Trip for a long while, then shook his head. "Why didn't you just say something?"

"I was scared you wouldn't believe me. Nobody ever did. James made people believe and…"

"…and when you say it, it sounds crazy." Jon finished for him, comprehension rising in his eyes.

Trip nodded. "It's like something out of a bad movie… but it's real life." He closed his eyes and sighed. "I wish it wasn't."

"'If wishes were horses…'"

"I know. I know." Wishing didn't make it go away. Wishing didn't change the past – it always caught up, there was always payback due.

Jon stepped aside. "Get some rest, Commander. Your duty shift starts in eight hours."

Trip blinked and stared. "Captain, I…"

"I don't recall seeing anything in writing." Once again, Jon's expression brooked no argument. "I'm short-handed enough with Hess off, I can't afford to lose you now."

"Yes, Sir." He didn't know what to think. It just didn't make sense, but he wasn't going to fight it.

"It'll take some getting used to." Jon seemed almost to be talking to himself. "Knowing… knowing that you've got that kind of past."

"I know." He'd have to get used to it again, himself.

"I never even cut class when I was a kid. Max used to say it was the biggest thing running against me: I had too much respect for the rules." Jon reached out, let Evil Thing sniff his fingers. "I guess I never imagined that good people could sometimes do bad things."

Trip nodded. "The road to Hell…"

"From what I heard, you've already been there." Jon started walking and Trip fell into step beside him. "That much, I do believe your brother on. That does explain one thing, though."

"What?" He didn't dare hazard a guess, things were too crazy to try and predict anything.

"Why you never listed a college on your application, despite your obvious training." Jon smiled. "Didn't get out to many classes?"

"No. And it wasn't exactly an Ivy-League institution." He allowed a small smile of his own. "I did, however, have plenty of time to study."

"Yeah, well, you don't now. Oh, your quarters are still cordoned off, but Lieutenant Reed said you could bunk with him for a while. He assured me that he already knows how loudly you snore."

"Yes, Sir. Thank you." He meant it. He didn't think he could use those quarters again, not with the memories now in them.

Jon winced. "'Captain,' I can stand. But don't keep calling me 'Sir.' It sounds like you're grovelling."

"Yes, Si… yes, Cap'n." Maybe there was hope yet. Maybe Malcolm was right, and he'd just have to get used to having people around who had faith in him, who gave a damn whether he made it or not. "Why though? I thought you'd…"

Jon nodded. "I talked to someone very wise who pointed out that you were still the same person you've always been… that the past had always been there and I'd just never looked at it before. We can't change who we are… all we can control is who we become."

"Malcolm." It had to be.

"Hess, actually. You'd think having a broken face would shut her up for a moment, but it didn't even come close. She's rescinding the restraining order, by the way… you know, the two of you really have a penchant for overreacting."

"I know. Malcolm says she's going to be okay."

Jon nodded. "Physically. Mentally…"

Trip hugged his cat. Mentally she might never get over it. I let it happen. If he'd told Jon from the start, maybe this could have been avoided.

"…I don't think she's ever been okay, mentally." Wry humour invaded Jon's voice; he and Hess always seemed to be at odds. He sighed. "Everything that happened, and her only concern was you. She was afraid you'd do something stupid. She's definitely got you pegged when it comes to guilt."

"I don't like hurting people, Jon." Not that it mattered because he was just too damn good at it.

"I know. And if you'd given me a chance, I would have remembered that." Jon tapped a finger into Trip's temple. "I don't like getting sudden shocks."

"So that's why you're not an engineer." He couldn't help it, the comeback formed of its own free will.

"Exactly. I leave that to you masochists." Then Jon sobered. "Next time, have a little faith in friends, okay?"

"Okay." Next time… it sounded like another chance. "Hopefully, there won't be a next time."

"There better not be." Jon smacked him on the shoulder then left, and Trip stared after him for a long while.

Good people. Somehow he'd surrounded himself with them, without even trying. People who did things for you, without the need for payback. And they were still convinced, despite everything he'd done, that he was one of their number. Amazing. Somehow, someday, he'd make it up to them. In the meantime, he'd just have to try to live up to their expectations.

Inside Malcolm's quarters, Trip set the cat down and headed into the bathroom. He stared into the mirror, into an all-too-familiar face. He reached out to touch the image, with its slender nose that gently curved up at the end and those eyelashes that women claimed to envy. He traced a finger across the cool glass, over the worry lines that had etched themselves in over the years, from stresses and joys that belonged to him and him alone. Is this who I've become? Apparently.

"I'm better." No, those were the wrong words. They didn't fit at all. "I'm good." That was it. No comparisons, no contrasts. Just a single individual, responsible for himself, living his life the best way he knew how, holding up his end of redemption. "I'm good." Not the 'perfect' he'd tried for, but not the monster he'd thought, either.

Because nobody was perfect, and that – he finally realised – was the secret. Even the saints had flaws, even the best people made mistakes. It was what you did about it that mattered. You couldn't lose the past, you'd always carry it with you, but you didn't have to live there. The only way to move on was to stop running away.

"Right." He turned away from the mirror and left. He headed for Sickbay, pausing when he got there to catch his breath.

Hess lay in a bed near the door, sedated and sleeping. The only other occupant lay on the far side of the room, the bed screened off with a curtain.

Trip stepped behind the curtain and sat down on his brother's bed. The blood was gone, washed away and the small cuts closed with derma-plast. One eye was hidden behind a gauze patch, or maybe it wasn't there at all. A brace held James' body straight and still, blaring the news of a damaged spine. "Hello, brother."

James opened his good eye and Trip saw a flash of shock and fear there, replaced almost instantly by cunning. "Trip. He tried to kill me. That guy…"

Trip leaned in close, his mouth right next to James' ear. "Let me tell you a secret," he whispered. "If Malcolm wanted you dead, you would be." He straightened up and raised his voice to normal. "I just wanted to say goodbye. Before they took you away." He let his eyes show a hint of malicious glee. "Jon doesn't like people who lie to him; I don't think he's going to be your friend anymore."

James' eye narrowed. "You're a dead man, brother."

"Who's going to kill me?" Trip stood up and took a step back, watching as James stared at him helplessly. "It's over, James. No one believes you anymore."

"You're dead if I say you are. You understand that? I'm your brother, and I say you're dead."

"Fine." Trip shrugged. "That sounds good to me. I never wanted a brother, anyway."

"You're nothing, you understand me? You're pathetic. You're nothing."

"You know what, James? I guess we are the same after all." Trip turned and walked away. Pathetic. Nothing. The secret was out now, and strangely, the world hadn't come to an end. He was still Charles 'Trip' Tucker III, still chief engineer of the Starship Enterprise, still a good-ol' Southern boy with his love for pecan pie and catfish. A bad-boy at times, a bit of a rebel, but nothing too serious. Only now… only now more whole than ever before.

It felt good.