Walk in the Dark
By Drogna
Chapter 2
AN: Thanks for all your reviews and yes, this is a dark one folks, but I promise a happy(ish) ending.
Archer awoke from the stun they had received and was surprised to find Trip was still out cold. Trip was younger and generally fit, it should have been him who was awake first. Instead Archer waited a little over half an hour before Trip stirred and then painfully levered himself up off the floor with a groan.
"What happened?" he asked, groggily.
"The Colchans weren't as friendly as we thought," replied Archer, who was feeling around the door frame to see if he could spot anything which might give them a way out. "Are you okay? You were out a while."
Archer saw wheels turning behind Trip's eyes before he answered, and he immediately knew that his friend was hiding something from him.
"Been working hard lately," supplied Trip. "Guess I needed the rest."
He gave Archer one of his best smiles, the kind he reserved as a distraction from what he'd just said. Archer wasn't fooled for a moment but he didn't have time to pursue the line of questioning. The door to the room opened and two Colchans came in bearing weapons.
They indicated to Archer and Trip that they wanted them out of the room without a single word being spoken. Since both humans knew better than to tackle two armed guards they made their way out into the corridor, guns at their backs. Archer exchanged a brief look with Trip which he hoped the Engineer recognised as "don't do anything foolish". They were ushered into another room a little further down the corridor and on the table was their equipment. Two communicators, their Universal Translator, padds, Trip's scanner and a hypospray filled with a blue liquid that Archer hadn't seen before.
"Which one?" asked an official looking Colchan.
"This one," said one of the guards and gave Trip a push forward. "The Engineer."
"Who sent you?" asked the official.
Trip looked baffled. "You know who sent us. We come from Earth."
"You're carrying poison. You're obviously here to assassinate one of our officials. Probably the Trade Minister." The official picked up the hypospray and waved it at Trip.
"No," said Trip. "You don't understand. It's not poison, it's medicine."
The Colchan struck Trip across the face. Archer made to stop the Colchan but was prevented by the guards holding him back.
"Do you take me for a fool. Tell me the truth," said the official.
"That is the truth," said Trip and was hit once again and this time the guard helped. Trip fell to his knees.
"He's telling the truth," said Archer. Even though he had no idea what was in the hypospray, he was certain that Trip wasn't lying. He would have no reason to poison the Colchans, they'd only just met. "Call our doctor. He's Denobulan. He can verify it. Our physiology isn't the same as yours."
The Colchans didn't seem to believe Archer anymore than they had believed Trip. One of the guards held Trip while another Colchan beat him every time he answered their questions with something that they didn't like. Only when Trip was unconscious did they give up their interrogation and return them to their cell. They had ignored all of Archer's pleas to stop hurting Trip and that he, Archer, was the ranking officer. It seemed that they were only interested in whether Trip had any information and not who was in Command.
Archer was very worried now. Trip was taking even longer to return to the land of the living. He'd done the best he could with the wounds, but mostly Trip was bruised rather than cut and anything serious would be internal. That worried Archer more than the visible injuries because there was nothing he could do about anything internal. He needed to get Trip back to Phlox.
Finally Trip groaned and opened his eyes carefully, blinking while he tried to clear his vision.
"Hey," he said softly, as Archer moved into his line of sight. Trip tried to get up but Archer stopped him.
"Just stay down," said Archer. "I don't think they broke anything but I don't want to take any chances."
"That bad?" asked Trip.
"I just watched you take one hell of a beating, I'm being cautious. Do you want to tell me why you had that hypo that seems to be causing so much trouble?"
"No," replied Trip.
"That wasn't a request, Commander," said Archer. "Tell me why you have a hypospray full of Colchan poison."
"Like I said, it's medicine," said Trip. "Ask Phlox."
"I will," replied Archer. "Medicine for what? Does it have anything to do with why you took so long to come round after being stunned?"
"Maybe," said Trip, with a sigh.
"If you're sick then I need to know," said Archer. "As captain of Enterprise I need to be in possession of all the facts. If you'd told me you were ill then I would have left you on the ship."
"Which is exactly why I didn't tell you," replied Trip.
"Why doesn't Phlox have you signed off anyway?"
"It's complicated. I can still do my job. I just have to remember to take my medicine every twelve hours," said Trip. Then he realised he might have said too much and was quiet again.
"Trip, I'm your friend as well as your Commanding Officer. Is this something serious?"
Trip looked at his friend for a moment. He realised he couldn't get away with keeping this a secret any longer. He was going to have to tell the Captain and then deal with all the pain that was going to cause both of them.
"It's Clarke's Syndrome," said Trip, quietly. He didn't have to tell Archer what that meant. Archer had watched his own father die from it, slowly and painfully, not even knowing who his son was at the end of his life. The same thing was in store for Trip. It was a degenerative disorder that would first take his motor functions and then follow that by taking his mental skills. The tremors in his hand were just the start. The speed of its progress varied but its outcome was always the same.
"Trip, I'm so sorry," was all Archer could manage in reply.
Trip held up his shaking left hand. "The medicine is for this. I'm overdue for my next shot." Trip looked up at Archer and saw the pain that this news caused. "I didn't want to tell you yet. I know that you went through hell with your Dad and I was hoping I could at least spare you a bit of that. I was going to put in for a transfer back to R and D once this tour was up. Phlox thinks I'll be okay for maybe a year with the right medication. Might even find a cure before things get really bad." He was trying to be cheerful but it sounded hollow even to him. He'd just told his best friend of over ten years that he had a terminal illness, nothing was ever going to be right again. He was going to die young and he probably wouldn't even remember his own name.
"How long have you known?" asked Archer.
"About eight months now," said Trip.
"Eight months?" Archer repeated in surprise.
"Phlox found it at the last round of annual medicals," said Trip.
"Does anyone else know?"
"No, just Phlox. I wasn't ready to tell anyone else."
"You've been dealing with this alone for eight months?" asked Archer in disbelief.
Trip nodded.
"Trip, you didn't have to, shouldn't have had to, do this for me. You need someone to help you through this and I promise I'll be there for you when you need me," said Archer, sincerely.
"Thanks Captain, but I don't want to cause you anymore trouble," said Trip.
"Look, let's shelve this for the moment, we can talk about it more when we're back on Enterprise."
"If we get back to Enterprise."
"I didn't recruit my Armoury Officer to sit around doing nothing," said Archer. "I'm pretty sure that he and T'Pol are working on getting us out of here right now."
Trip tried to move into a more comfortable position but the pain stopped him. He bit down on a gasp of pain and hoped Archer hadn't noticed. For the moment all they could do was wait and hope. Hours passed before anything happened and Trip drifted into a light doze. He was awoken by the sound of arguing in the corridor outside their cell, which was followed by two Colchans opening the cell door.
"On behalf of the Colchan government I would like to apologise for your treatment. The men responsible will be punished. Your men are here to take you back to your ship."
Lieutenant Reed and T'Pol entered the room followed by two security officers. Archer caught the look of shock on Reed's face when he saw Trip before he hid it behind his professional exterior again.
"Trip is going to need some help," said Archer tersely.
"Yes, sir," replied Reed. Both men knew that there would be hell to pay for this but now was not the time to shout about things. They needed to get Trip back to the ship before the Colchans changed their minds. Given the political situation here that could happen very easily.
The two security men carefully helped Trip to his feet. The Enterprise party then made their way slowly back to the shuttle, while they were watched carefully by the wary Colchans.
Archer stormed into sickbay just behind the stretcher that was carrying an unconscious Commander Tucker. Phlox immediately assessed the Commander's injuries and decided that Trip would need surgery in order to deal with some internal damage caused by the beating. He assured Archer that it was a routine matter and nothing to worry about.
Archer sat down to wait, trying to keep his emotions in check while he tried to digest the new information that Trip had just given him. He was still finding it hard to take in that his friend had a terminal illness. An illness which had killed his own father. It opened old wounds as well as creating new ones. Archer vividly remember how the disease had slowly robbed his father of his health, awareness, intellect and dignity. As members of Starfleet they expected there to be danger, but he had never expected it to come in this form, a silent killer that they could do very little about. Not for the first time, Archer wished that Earth would allow genetic research of the type that would have eradicated Clarke's Syndrome.
He tried to remember how old Trip was, he thought maybe he was thirty seven last birthday. It was certainly too young to be faced with this sort of news, and most definitely too young to know that you'd be dead in a few years time. Then there was Trip's career to think about which was also going to be cut short, first because eventually he'd be too ill for active duty on a starship and then because he'd be too ill to work at all.
If Archer had been in the privacy of his own quarters then he might have allowed himself to shed some tears for all that Trip would lose, and all that he would lose because of Trip's loss. But because Archer was in sickbay he remained stoic. He knew he had to deal with his feelings as best he could for the moment, once Trip was awake then his friend would need him to be strong for him. He couldn't understand why Trip wouldn't tell his best friend and Captain what was going on. He gradually allowed his anger at being kept in the dark about such an important piece of information to replace his grief. He felt safer being angry than grieving. Trip wouldn't want to be cried over.
It was two hours before Trip was out of surgery and resting comfortably on a biobed that was curtained off in a quiet corner of sickbay. The operation had been a success and Phlox expected a complete recovery.
"Doctor, when you're finished here, I'd like to see you in my Ready Room," said Archer, as he watched Phlox and his assistants tending to Trip.
"Of course, Captain. I should only be another few minutes. I will meet you there," replied the Doctor amiably.
Archer stalked away to his Ready Room to await Phlox's arrival. The doctor arrived a little later, as promised.
"Why the hell wasn't I notified?" were the first words out of Archer's mouth as the door shut behind Phlox. Archer was pacing angrily.
"I assume you're talking about Commander Tucker's illness," said Phlox.
"Damn right I am," said Archer. "You let me send a sick man on an away mission."
"It isn't that clear cut, Captain. You know from your own experience that it is quite possible to function normally for months or even years in some cases before symptoms become so severe that they effect a patient's life style. So far the Commander has only experienced some minor tremors in his left hand which I have successfully been able to control with drugs. As you know, as long as a condition does not affect a patient's ability to perform their duties I have no obligation to report it and Commander Tucker specifically asked me not to tell anyone else."
"Don't try to make this Trip's fault. He's been diagnosed with a terminal disease and isn't exactly thinking straight. At first it won't affect his ability to perform his duties, but it may well do soon."
"I don't believe I broke any regulations. I am monitoring the Commander's condition on a monthly basis and if it had deteriorated to a point where it would have affected his work then I would have followed procedure and reported it to you. I still would not have been under any obligation to tell you why he was unable to perform his duties." Phlox sighed exasperatedly. "The Commander knows that your father died of this disease and he also knows something about how much distress that death caused you. He didn't want to cause you any unnecessary pain. I tried to persuade him that he would need the support of his friends through this difficult time, but he refused me permission to let you know."
Archer gave up his pacing and flopped down dejectedly into his chair. Trip had put Phlox in a difficult, if not impossible position, and it was true that no regulations had been broken. Patient confidentiality trumped almost every regulation in the book. Unless Trip had been a danger to himself or the ship, Phlox didn't need to say anything to the Captain.
"I'm sorry, doctor, you're right. You only did what Trip asked you to. I suppose my feelings are clouding my judgement at the moment. What's your estimate for how long Trip will be able to work?"
"That is difficult to say. Given the current progression of his symptoms, I would estimate it will be at least a year, maybe two, before the symptoms become so severe that he can't remain on Enterprise. He may have to cut back or alter his duties before then, but that is my best estimate. In fact, I have already been trying to persuade him to cut back on the amount of overtime he does. After that I can't be sure how much longer he will have before the deterioration becomes enough to stop him working entirely. It varies from patient to patient immensely."
"Why has it hit now? I mean, has anything triggered it?"
"There is a reason it's also known as the Engineer's Disease. Very few people get the disease. It's caused by a recessive gene, that usually remains inactive. In the Commander's case it has become active. He must have always had the gene that causes the disease, but usually we find that patients have spent some time in close proximity to a radiation source. In this case I'd say the warp reactor would be the cause. It doesn't have to be a high level of radiation, nothing that would be dangerous in normal circumstances."
"So you're telling me that he has this because of his job?"
"Well he had to have the propensity for it, otherwise every single person working in Engineering would also have it, but essentially that is true. I expect the same was true for your father, since he also spent most of his life working with warp engines," said Phlox.
"I was twelve when my father died, I don't remember much of the technical aspects of the disease, just how ill he was. I think I need you to tell me more about what to expect and if there's anything I can do to help Trip."
"Fatigue is one of the main early symptoms, with muscle spasms, tremors, lack of co-ordination and dizziness. Muscle wastage and difficulties with movement are also to be expected, progressing to complete paralysis in many cases. Later the cognitive functions become impaired, memory and thought processes. All phases of the disease result in some level of constant pain. There are a raft of other less common symptoms but so far the Commander seems to be following the normal pattern of the disease."
As Phlox continued laying out the facts of the disease, it brought home the terrible situation to Archer. Over the course of a few years he would lose Trip, a piece at a time. The disease would eventually rob Trip of the ability to perform even the most basic tasks and both his short and long term memory, finally it would affect his autonomous nervous systems, resulting in his death. It was not an easy or swift death. However, a lot could be done to control the symptoms and slow the onset of the worst of the disease. Phlox gave Archer a long list of everything that Trip should be doing to make sure he gave himself the best chance. All Archer had to do now was see that Trip followed Phlox's advice, which he suspected might be a difficult task.
Trip didn't remember much about the shuttle ride back to Enterprise. Archer had radioed Phlox and been given instructions on giving Trip drugs from the first aid kit. He had been given a dose of painkiller and after that everything became fuzzy and far away. He either passed out or fell asleep, he didn't know which, soon after that. It wasn't until he awoke the next day that he had any coherent thoughts about the previous day's events. He opened his eyes and found Archer sitting beside his biobed. He tried to move and was immediately stopped by a hand on his shoulder.
"Not so fast," said Archer. "You had some internal bleeding which Phlox repaired so lying down is the best thing for you at the moment."
Trip nodded and settled back. "I'm sorry, Captain."
"For what?" asked Archer.
"Not telling you what was going on," replied Trip. "Causing so much trouble. Getting hurt."
"It wasn't your fault, Trip. We had no idea they'd search us or think that your medication was poison."
"I should never have gone. I'm just a liability. I'll put in my request for transfer back to Earth as soon as Phlox lets me out of here."
"You know that's not necessary and I don't want you to leave," said Archer.
"What choice do I have?" asked Trip.
"I spoke to Phlox while you were asleep. He told me that there's nothing to stop you from staying on active duty on Enterprise. At least for the time being. He thinks it could be up to two years before the illness means you'll have to take a desk job. Until Phlox tells me otherwise there's no reason for you to go anywhere. But we are going to set down some ground rules."
"What sort of ground rules?" asked Trip.
"Phlox gave me a run down of what to expect. He also told me you have good days and bad days. I want to know when the bad days are and, if you're not a hundred percent, then you're not going on an away mission."
"But I can still go on away missions if I'm okay?" asked Trip, hopefully.
"I don't see why not, but you're to be honest with me about your condition. If I find out you're not telling me the truth then I'll be re-evaluating. Phlox says that you're less likely to have bad days if you aren't pulling twelve hour shifts, so that stops now. I'm putting a ban on you doing overtime."
"But I can't do my job if I can't work late on the odd day," said Trip, plaintively.
"You and I both know that it's not the odd day. I'm prepared to compromise and say that you can work late once a week but you're to get my permission."
"Permission? But Captain…"
"Just a quick call to okay it with me, that's all. Just something to stop you forgetting our agreement."
Trip sighed. "Okay, I suppose I can live with that. I'm guessing there's more."
"There is. You're to take the medicine that Phlox gives you and I don't want to hear any excuses. If you don't take it then you're not a hundred percent and if you're not a hundred percent you shouldn't be climbing around Engineering."
"But I do take it," protested Trip.
"No, you forget. Phlox knows, so there's no denying it. If you can understand advanced warp theory then you can remember to take your medicine on time."
"Fine, I'll be more careful about taking my medicine," said Trip.
"And I never want to see your name on the accident log two days in a row again. If that happens I'll know what it means, and I promise I'll come down on you like a ton of bricks."
"Understood," replied Trip.
"Final thing. We're going to have to tell some other people."
"How many other people?" asked Trip.
"Well T'Pol, for starters, but I think Lieutenant Reed and Lieutenant Hess need to know too. If you're on an away mission then at least one other person on the team should be aware of your condition. If something were to happen to you then someone needs to know that you're on medication."
"If we can keep it within the senior staff then I guess that's okay. I just wish we didn't have to tell Hess, she's going to start treating me like glass."
"She has to know, Trip. It's a safety precaution more than anything. It's up to you as her commanding officer to make sure she doesn't treat you differently," said Archer.
"Easier said than done," replied Trip.
"You're good at your job, Trip. I know that you can make this work. I'm certainly not changing the way we work together."
"I just want things to go back to the way they were," said Trip. "I want this never to have happened to me. It's just so damned unfair."
"I know, I know, but we have to work with the cards we're dealt," said Archer. "Please, just remember that you're not alone. I know that this isn't easy for you, I can't imagine going through what you're experiencing, but at least I can offer moral support."
"Thanks, Captain. I'll try to remember that," said Trip. "I just figured that after everything that you went through with your Dad that you'd rather not go through it again with me."
"At least I have an idea of what to expect. I'm your friend and if you need me then I'm here for you."
"You don't have to do this. I've got this far on my own," said Trip.
"Yeah and look where it got you. From now on, you're not going it alone. Understood?" said Archer, sternly.
"Understood," replied Trip.
Archer called a senior staff meeting. That in itself wasn't unusual but, on this occasion, one important person was missing. Lieutenant Anna Hess had been slightly baffled when she'd been summoned and her Commanding Officer hadn't. Commander Tucker was still officially on sick leave, but he was now well enough for light duties, so she would have expected him to attend the meeting. When she'd asked the Commander about it he'd just said that the Captain had already spoken to him about what was to be discussed and if she had any questions afterwards then he'd be happy to answer them. None of which made any sense.
So Lieutenant Reed, Commander T'Pol, and Lieutenant Hess entered the briefing room, each wondering why they had been summoned and Trip had not. They found Doctor Phlox already waiting in the briefing room which deepened the mystery further, especially when he refused to comment on why the meeting had been called. The Captain was the last one to arrive, and when he did arrive he seemed worried.
"I'm sure you're all wondering why I've called this meeting," said Archer.
"More wondering why Commander Tucker wasn't also invited, sir," said Reed.
"Logically that either means we are here to talk about something that does not concern the Commander, which is unlikely given his responsibilities, or about the Commander himself," said T'Pol.
"Trip asked me to talk to you," said Archer. "What I'm about to tell you is strictly confidential and is not to leave this room."
He receive nods of acknowledgement from the assembled officers.
"Trip has been diagnosed with a terminal illness. Specifically Clarke's Syndrome."
Hess and Reed both registered shock on their faces at the news. Everyone knew that Archer's father had died of the uncommon disease and exactly what that had meant.
"I'm not familiar with that disease," said T'Pol.
Phlox took his cue. "It's a neuro-degenerative disease that afflicts humans. The first symptoms have already started to show but so far I have been able to keep them under control."
"How long does he have?" asked Reed.
"It's almost impossible to tell," replied Phlox. "Perhaps two years before the symptoms become severe enough that he can't work on board a ship any longer, but that's only my best estimate."
"I assume that you are working on finding a treatment for the disease," said T'Pol.
"Indeed. There are many treatments available to ease the symptoms and I'm doing my best to see what else can be done, but given the time available…" Phlox trailed off and looked as miserable as everyone else in the room.
"We have to face facts," said Archer. "Even given the current advancements in medical technology, no one's found a cure in the past fifty years. Baring a miracle, it isn't likely it's going to be found in time to help Trip." Archer didn't like putting it so bluntly, he himself had asked Phlox how likely it was that he could cure Trip, but there was no point in giving them false hope. Medical science had moved on a lot since Henry Archer had died of the same disease nearly forty years earlier, but genetic engineering was forbidden after the Eugenics War, and that was what would have helped Trip.
"Does this have anything to do with what happened on Colchis?" asked Reed. "They mentioned something about you and Trip carrying poison, but we thought it was a trumped up charge."
Archer wasn't at all surprised that Reed had picked up on this. "Trip was carrying a hypospray of some medication that Phlox had given him. They found it on him and decided that he was planning to assassinate the Trade Minister with it."
T'Pol raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.
"This explains all those accidents that he's been having," said Hess.
"You mean he's known about this for months and didn't say anything?" said Reed.
"Trip had his reasons. Partly he was trying to protect us." Archer sighed with frustration.
"The Commander can display poor judgement at times," said T'Pol.
"Yes, he can, but we know now," said Archer.
Archer outlined the ground rules regarding working hours and away missions that he had set with Trip. "If you have any more questions then Doctor Phlox is happy to answer them. We need everyone to be as well informed as possible. Trip doesn't want anyone else to know and only you, myself and Phlox are currently aware of his illness." Implicit within Archer's statement was that he would know if word got out who had let slip. "He's in for a tough time and I know I can count on all of you to make his life easier."
The officers around the table were subdued but murmured their agreement. If anything could be done to make Trip's remaining time on Enterprise better, then it would be done.
Lieutenant Reed pressed the doorbell beside Commander Tucker's cabin door and waited.
"Come in," came a shout from inside and Reed entered. Trip was sat at his desk, working at his terminal. He still displayed the signs on his face of the beating he had taken down on Colchis. His movements were slow and deliberate, indicating that he was still feeling his injuries. For a moment Reed didn't know why he'd come or how to begin. Luckily Trip jumped in before Reed could even begin to form a sentence.
"So you've stopped talking about me and come to get the story directly from the horse's mouth, huh? I was wondering which of you three would be battering down my door first. Take a seat, Malcolm."
"I just wanted to offer my support," said Reed, taking the indicated chair. "I really don't know what else to say."
"There isn't anything else to say, Malcolm. There's nothing anyone can do, so moral support is all you can give. I don't want to be pitied or treated any differently."
"You're not the kind of person who attracts pity, Trip, and I'm sure you'll let me know if I start treating you differently."
"You bet your ass I will," said Trip.
"I wish you'd told us before, what you were going through," said Reed. "If I'd known about the medication I might have been able to avoid the incident down on Colchis."
"Phlox tried to persuade me that I should let you guys in on the secret, but I guess I just wasn't ready. I couldn't deal with it myself, let alone expect you to."
"I thought you knew us better than that," said Reed, gently, before he added more lightly. "Of course, I expect you didn't tell us because you didn't want anyone else knowing about Phlox's instructions that you do less overtime."
Trip gave a small laugh and immediately wished that he hadn't when pain lanced through his side. The Colchans had been pretty thorough in their beating.
"Most people would be pleased to have an excuse to bugger off early," said Reed.
"Yeah, says mister workaholic himself. You sleep in that Armoury of yours, don't you?"
"Hoshi tells me that there's a pool going on how many hours we log for the week between us," said Reed. "Lieutenant Hess has won the last two weeks in a row."
"She has, huh?" asked Trip. "I think I need to have a chat with my Second about the dangers of gambling."
"That might be a good idea," replied Reed, with a smile. He suddenly became serious again. "How are you really, Trip?"
Trip looked at his friend for a moment, trying to gauge if the query was genuine, before he spoke. "There are good days and bad. Phlox has the physical stuff under control pretty much. Mostly I just wonder, why me? I know it's selfish, but I guess when it comes down to it, I'm a selfish guy."
"No one wants to be ill, Trip," said Reed.
"I've been doing a lot of reading about other people with CS. Phlox thought it might help to see how other people dealt with it. There's so many brave people out there. There was this one woman, she was diagnosed when she was twenty eight, she'd just had her first child and she knew that her baby was going to grow up without a mother…" Trip paused almost unable to continue. Reed just waited quietly while his friend took a deep breath. "She was really philosophical about it. She just said that she was making the most of spending time with her daughter. For her, that baby was all she needed to have made her life worth while. There are so many other amazing stories of people dealing with this thing. Me, I'm just spending my time complaining about my career being cut short and asking why me? Maybe I should be asking why not me? After all, I've got a lot less to lose than a lot of other people."
"Your life is worth just as much as anyone else's," said Reed. "You were going to do this on your own to protect your friends, I think that makes you pretty brave. Stupid, but brave. Don't forget that you have some good friends."
Trip nodded, thoughtfully. Silence stretched for a moment. "Hey, do you want a beer?" asked Trip. "I missed movie night because I was in sickbay, so I was thinking about a private showing. Wouldn't mind a bit of company though."
"I'd be happy to join you," replied Reed, and at that moment he realised that he'd probably just had his one and only conversation about Trip's illness that he was going to have. Trip's way of dealing with this was to make everything as normal as possible, no special treatment, no pity and no discussion of his feelings. Only when things were impossible would Trip give up and admit defeat, and even then it would probably take some persuasion. Reed knew Trip couldn't will the symptoms of his disease not to exist but he certainly wasn't going to stop him trying. As far as Reed was concerned, Trip was the bravest man alive at this moment, no matter what his friend thought himself.