Disclaimer: Refer to Chapter 1.

A/N: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, particularly Cha Oseye Tempest Thrain and GallyGee, and to Sailor Coruscant and G. Eliot, my betas. You are both legends… Sorry that it's taken so long, that wasn't intended I assure you! The next chapter should be up in a couple of days, and then I have to finish writing the chapter after that.

Spoilers: North Star (although something not seen in the episode), Zero Hour.

Chapter 6

'Well, this is a bunch of laughs,' Jon thought. They were sitting at tables in the mess hall for lunch. T'Pol and Doctor Phlox had joined them, but other than Admiral Forrest asking why no one had told him about the Sweet Spot before, there had been very little chatter. At least Trip no longer looked like he was about to kill his father, and Jon had been surprised to hear Charles the Second call him Trip, albeit after some hesitation. Trip wasn't eating much: it probably wasn't helping that Charles was staring with vulture-like intensity at Trip's meal. Trip was becoming distinctly uncomfortable. Jon watched with a kind of sick fascination, waiting for and dreading the eventual explosion he knew would come, and no one would be able to stop.

"Malcolm, I was just thinking about that trip to Risa," Trip said in a tone that clearly invited continuation.

"You mean, when we got mugged? Remind me to never try to pick up women with you again." There was a hint of a smirk on Malcolm's face.

Jon nearly snorted, repressing it at the last instant. It definitely explained their unclothed state on the shuttle. Everybody else appeared quite shocked, even their parents; there was no way they could know the details of the incident, but it wasn't something that they would associate with the conduct of Starfleet officers.

Malcolm continued. "Or, there was that time when we went exploring that repair station…"

"…And we got transported off onto the bridge still crawling," Trip finished. "What about when we lead that mutiny?"

"You trying to kill T'Pol when you were high on that pollen."

"Falling off the horse," T'Pol interjected.

"Thank you, T'Pol," Trip said with a smile. "Nearly getting fried on that asteroid."

"From what I heard, running around the ship in your underwear," Malcolm said, barely hiding a smirk.

"You getting into a fight with Major Hayes." Trip's voice had a hard edge to it.

"You in your underwear, yet again, when we found you on that world with that Princess."

"You threatening to shoot me!"

"You trying to kill yourself!"

"That's enough!" Jon was finally able to get a word in edgewise. His head was whirling with the accusations each had made. "Outside, now!" The two glared at each other, before standing up and moving to the door. Jon glanced at their parents' faces: Trip's father looked like he'd been hit in the stomach, while Malcolm's father looked like he'd smelt something bad. Oddly enough, Malcolm's mother was smiling faintly.

Jon stalked outside to the corridor where they stood against the wall in the corridor, Trip slouching and Malcolm at attention as per normal. "What the hell was that little display for?" he asked, barely containing his urge to shake both of them. "You are two of my most senior officers, and you are acting like children." He looked from one to the other: Malcolm looked straight ahead while Trip challenged his gaze. "And what the hell was that last bit about? Trip?"

Trip replied unemotionally. "It was on Shuttlepod One, when we were stuck there. We didn't think we'd have enough air, so I was going to go up into the airlock. Malcolm threatened to shoot me."

"What kind of security officer would I be if I let a senior officer kill themselves to save me," Malcolm replied just as evenly.

"Then why the hell didn't you threaten to shoot him?" Trip yelled, gesturing towards Jon. He looked away, trying to hide the hurt they could see on his face, the hurt that he'd felt ever since they had thought the Captain was dead.

"What kind of Captain am I if I'm not willing to do what my crew will do, Trip?" Jon said quietly.

"The sort of Captain that is still alive to captain his vessel afterwards," Trip replied softly, before turning and walking down the corridor. Malcolm stepped forward to go after him, but Jon stopped him.

"Let him go; he needs to cool off. And we'll get another bit of the ship up and running," Jon said, suddenly exhausted. How had the mood changed so quickly? Their comments had originally been aimed to shock their parents yes, but not to hurt each other.

"I'm sorry, Captain," Malcolm said. "I don't know what got into me."

"I do." Jon was still watching Trip's retreating form. He turned back to Malcolm. "The same thing that's been affecting all of us. Too much stress, exhaustion, despair... trying to shock your parents." Trip may have started the conversation, but Malcolm had joined in without being pushed.

Jon continued. "All our emotions are all over the place. We've all been snapping at each other, and things have been left unresolved. But I want it understood, Lieutenant, that I never want to see this kind of behaviour from you or Trip again."

"Yes, Sir, it won't happen again. I never would have done this before I met Trip," Malcolm admitted.

Jon sighed theatrically. "That's because Trip is a bad influence and does what he can to corrupt those around him." They walked back into the mess, where all eyes turned towards them and the stilted conversation halted in expectation.

"Something came up in Engineering," Jon said a little too abruptly. "Trip's gone to look at it."

"Well, I better get back to Sickbay," Phlox said cheerfully. "Thank you for an entertaining meal, Captain. Admiral."

"If you would excuse me as well," Charles said hurriedly as he stood up and walked out of the room.

Jon followed him out into the corridor. "Mr. Tucker," he said. Charles stopped, allowing Jon to catch up. "Trip's been under a lot of stress, he normally doesn't act like that."

"I understand, Captain," Charles said tightly, "but I need to talk to him. You said he'd gone back to Engineering?"

Jon nodded and pressed the wall comm. "Archer to Engineering."

"Hess here, Sir."

"Has Commander Tucker returned to Engineering, Lieutenant?"

"Uh, yes, Sir. A few minutes ago. He's repairing Junction 43B."

"Lieutenant, the Commander's father will be there in a few minutes. I want somebody to show him to where Commander Tucker is working."

"Understood, Sir."


"Son."

For the second time that day, Trip cursed the design of maintenance tunnels. Vocally and at length.

"Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?" His father's tone was ironic.

Trip looked at his father's brown eyes while rubbing his own head. Funny that: two recessive genes from his parents coming together to produce blue-eyed children. Hair darker than his own, a slightly shorter, stockier build, a completely different accent; he could almost believe that he was not Charles Tucker the Second's son. However, he could pass himself off as Christina's child very easily and had done so on occasion-although the accent wasn't quite right. Something that had started off as a means to annoy his parents and grandfather had very quickly become an integral part of his personality. And of course, James and Lizzie had picked the accent up from him.

"You tried to kill yourself." Trip looked away from his father's eyes at the softly spoken words. "How could you?"

Trip tried to avoid hearing the hurt and pain in his father's words. He tried to retreat to the anger he'd felt earlier, but it wouldn't come. "It's not what you think. We didn't think there was enough air for two of us, why should I live over Malcolm?"

"Why shouldn't you?" His father moved forward and grabbed the sides of Trip's head, forcing Trip to look at him. Trip closed his eyes in response. "Look at me." Trip shook his head, before opening his eyes again. He didn't want to see the compassion and the love that were in the brown eyes before him. "When I first saw you today I was terrified, more terrified than I have been in a long time. The way you looked… I thought, 'am I going to lose my boy again? Did you fight so hard back then and everyday since for nothing?' I know this is your mother's and my fault; I should have been there for you instead of everywhere else. I should have been there to see it happening and to get you help earlier." His father paused. "I'm sorry, Trip. I'm sorry for failing you, and for failing Lizzie and James." His father sat down heavily against the side of the tunnel, not looking at Trip.

"I've never told you when exactly it started." Trip hesitated before continuing. "It was when Mother told me that it was my fault Christina left. I'm not saying that things weren't starting to happen before then, but that was the real trigger." Trip waited apprehensively for his father's reaction.

"She did what?" he exploded. "Of all the stupid, idiotic, untrue things for her to say. Your mother thought I was having an affair with Christina because she found that Christina was calling me while I was away, even though she was only calling me to let me know what was happening with you kids." He rubbed a hand agitatedly over his face.

"I didn't know Christina did that," Trip said. He moved to sit on the opposite side of the tunnel, putting the tools he had been using down beside him.

"You are my children," his father said simply. Between them settled the first companionable the two had ever known.

"I haven't eaten in the last couple of days," Trip spoke quietly but steadily. "I was stressed; stressed over everything that has happened and that you and Mother had been invited here. I didn't think you would show up, but if you didn't I'd have to explain that.

"When we were in the Expanse, people started skipping meals. I told the Captain that the crew needed some recreation, or there would be big problems. I know how dangerous being like that is, I am not going to let it beat me or anyone else again. The voice is not in control of my life and I never want it to be again. I'm not going to let it. I know the longer I don't eat, the more of a chance it has."

His father smiled at him. "You are the strongest person I know, but you can't deal with this alone. Your Doctor knows, does anyone else? Have you told the Captain?"

Trip laughed without humour. "Hello Captain, how are you today? By the way, I have anorexia."

"I think you need a bit more of a lead in," his father said dryly. "I've been hearing for years about how he's your best friend. Why didn't you tell him?"

Trip smiled sadly. "Starfleet was a new beginning. Only the doctors knew, everything was under control, I was working on the warp project," the words were spoken with awe, "I was happy. And I met Jonathon Archer, Henry Archer's son. He accepted me for who I was, he enjoyed my company; he needed what I appeared to be: a carefree person with life at his feet, who wasn't a stickler for protocol or obeying orders.

"He'd been around serious academia and the edge of the limelight for so long, I'm not even sure he got to enjoy his childhood. I could give him back part of that. But over the last year we've both changed. We're back at the beginning; he's too serious and withdrawn and I'm struggling again. I can't tell him, because I need to pull him back again, and I can't if he knows. He'll worry about me, he'll watch me, and neither of us need that."

"Trip that's not friendship, that's dependence. Friendship goes both ways."

A/N: This story is not intended to be about anorexia, it's about relationships. Everything I know about anorexia I read in a book called "Bronte's Story" by Bronte Cullis and Steve Bibb. Bronte heard a voice in her head, which started before she stopped eating. This voice would tell her that something bad would happen to her family if she didn't do certain things and how disgusting and horrible she was. It eventually led to the voice telling her that if she ate or that if she didn't get down to a certain weight something bad would happen. I'm borrowing that idea for this story. She stayed at a clinic in Canada for almost five years, and is the most prominent anorexia sufferer in the Australian media. Her parents run a foundation in Australia to help other anorexia sufferers. Most sufferers that I've seen interviewed seem to hear this voice.