Chapter Ten

Trip tried to put it to the back of his mind during dinner with Captain Archer and T'Pol later that night, but a little niggling feeling was determined to remain and plague him. At least "Captain Archer is acting a bit more normal" he thought as he tucked into his lasagne. "I just wish he stop looking at me weird-like though," as he spied Archer glance his way yet again. "It's a good job I'm not paranoid like Malcolm, or I'd think he was in on the same thing that Aunt Lilith is hiding."

"Sorry I didn't get to say goodbye to ya mom," said Trip.

"She won't mind," replied Archer. Then quickly changing the subject, "Chef's outdone himself again."

"Yeah," said Trip. "Sure glad Brass didn't manage to entice him away to run their new restaurant back at Headquarters. Although saying that, I'm pretty sure you had a hand in there somewhere."

"You know me too well," chuckled Archer before the sound of the comm. interrupted him.

Leaning over to press the button, "Archer …"

"Sorry to bother you, Sir," said Hoshi, "but there's a comm. message for Commander Tucker from his mother …"

"I'll take it in ma quarters," Trip replied, throwing T'Pol a worried glance as he stood up and walked out.

After about five minutes, "Is there something on your mind, Captain?" asked T'Pol as silence descended upon the room after Trip's departure.

"No, why do you ask?"

"You seem a bit upset."

"I'm fine …" replied Archer, a bit abruptly. "I'm sorry, but I'm going to call this a night. I've got some reports I want to finish. Goodnight, T'Pol," he said as he stood up to leave.

"Goodnight, Captain," replied T'Pol, wondering why a comm. message to Trip from his family would suddenly invoke an emotional reaction in Captain Archer.

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Trip walked into his quarters and sat down at his monitor before pressing a button for Hoshi to put the call through. From the niggling feeling that had been bothering him all evening, he'd half expected this call as his Great Aunt was very close to his mom.

"Hi Mom," said Trip as the image of his mother came on screen.

"Trip … you're looking pale, are you feeling okay, eating well?"

"Mom … I'm fine," replied Trip.

"Can't a mother be worried about her son," smiled Susan Tucker, "especially after I have a worrying phone call from Aunt Lilith expressing concern for you."

Trip rolled his eyes at this, "I was just asking her some questions, that's all. There's nothing for anyone to be concerned about."

"Don't lie to me, Trip … I know my boy … and I know when something's wrong and bothering him."

"Lying!" exclaimed Trip, feeling a rush of anger swell deep inside of him. "That's rich considering how you've been lying to me for the past 15 years …"

"I haven't lied to you. Whatever makes you think that?"

"Why didn't you tell me that you used to work for Starfleet … that you used to work alongside Henry Archer?"

Susan paled at his sudden question. After a few minutes, she replied, "I didn't think it was worth mentioning, considering how I didn't actually work for them … I only designed the complex--"

"You didn't think it was worth mentioning … even though I'm Chief Engineer of the engine that Henry Archer designed and that I work alongside his actual son?"

"Trip … it was a long time ago. I didn't feel you would be interested," Susan replied in an elusive tone, not wanting to look her son in the eye or elaborate on any of the facts further.

"You didn't once think I would be interested?" questioned Trip, quite angrily, beginning to feel deja vue over his mother's evasive stance.

"Yes. I'm sorry if that disappoints you, but I was a young, naïve stupid girl filled with lots of silly hopes and ideals," replied Susan becoming just as emotional as her son. "Frankly, it's something I'd like to forget."

"What aren't you telling me?" puzzled Trip after a few minutes. An outburst like that was definitely out of character for his mom. It only furthered in his mind the notion that he wasn't being told everything and that somehow his disease was involved.

"Trip … please … you're being silly--"

"Now who's lying? You know, I'm going go before I say something I'm gonna regret. Because at the moment, I'm having major doubts believing anything you've said to me," replied Trip, standing up and reaching over to switch off the comm.

"Trip … don't you--" was all Susan could say before Trip cut the connection.

Trying to rein in the trembling in his hands and focus his raging emotions, he turned round and left to expend his excess energy in the gym.

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He soon regretted this decision when he was forced to walk into Sickbay an hour later cradling his wrist.

Phlox walked up and started examining him with his medical scanner. After a few minutes he put his scanner aside and looked up at Trip with a scolding look. "Torn ligaments, may I ask how this occurred, Commander?"

"I was lifting some weights in the gym, Doc," answered Trip sheepishly. He knew he'd been silly to carry on with the lifting regime when the trembling in his hand had increased each time he raised the weight. But he'd been so damn frustrated after his call from his mom, he just wanted to feel normal again.

"Did you have any symptoms before you went to the gym?" asked Phlox, knowing full well that this was the case. The shamefaced look from Trip just confirmed it.

Phlox didn't say anything. He just turned round to collect some medical supplies and set about treating his patient's injury. Trip knew from Phlox's whole demeanour that he was in the dog house and that Phlox was really angry.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I was just so damn frustrated after a call from my mom and Aunt that I just wanted to get on with ma life like before. I won't be that stupid again … I promise."

"You need to talk to someone about this, Commander," said Phlox sternly, albeit in a slightly softer tone than before. "You have to realize that you are going to have to change certain aspects of your lifestyle to accommodate your illness. I can try and maintain some kind of normality for you at the moment by keeping your symptoms at bay with medication … but you have to work with me on this and keep me informed at all times."

"I appreciate that, Doc, and I promise I will," replied Trip. "I've already found someone to talk to about it. T'Pol …" he said, to Phlox's enquiring look. "But then I think you probably suspected that would happen," said Trip, to Phlox's sheepish smile when he heard T'Pol's name mentioned.

"I'm glad you took some of my advice to heart," smiled Phlox as he finished wrapping up Trip's hand. "You might need surgery to repair the damage, but I won't know until the swelling goes down. I should be able to tell tomorrow."

"Thanks, Doc," said Trip as he climbed off the bio bed.

"You said you were frustrated after a call from your family? Would you like to talk about it?" asked Phlox.

"Not much to say at the moment," replied Trip. "I just get the feeling that they are keeping something from me. This disease is genetic, isn't it," asked Trip at Phlox's enquiring look.

"Yes," answered Phlox, having an idea of where this was going.

"So why isn't there any record of anyone suffering from it previously in ma family? Each time I made enquiries, all I get is vague and elusive answers, as if there were some big family secret being kept from me. Something ma mom said in her recent comm. message just makes me suspect that even more. No one will actually talk to me," said Trip sadly.

"I sorry you're feeling like that, Commander," replied Phlox as he thought about his own disagreement with his son Yaris. "With a disease like this though, you are going to need support from your family even more. Don't shut them out. Why don't you confide in Captain Archer?" Phlox asked. "I'm sure he can help you through this."

"I'll think about it, Doc," answered Trip, not catching on to Phlox's double-edged meaning in his question. "Thanks."

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