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Epilogue
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It has been thirty-six hours since Commander Tucker died, thirty-three hours since you packed the last of his belongings to be sent to his parents, and thirty hours since you paid your final respects to his remains in sickbay. You were not alone through any of it.
It was logical to assume that when Trip passed away, your bond with him would be severed. Logic and reason, however, were things that Trip stubbornly defied in life. It made sense that he would resist them in death as well.
You're on Earth, a planet just taking its first enthusiastic but unsteady steps to towards becoming a leader in the interstellar community. This is an amazing accomplishment for a species that only first developed warp drive a century ago. It's not the first time that you find yourself reflecting on how enterprising and unexpected humans can be.
The audience is waiting for Jonathan Archer to deliver his speech. Phlox has left to join his wives. The captain has finished his nervous pacing. He tells you, "You'd better get out there. You don't want to miss me screwing this thing up."
His self-depreciation is unwarranted. He will not 'screw this thing up'.
"I'm going to remain down here if you don't mind," you reply.
"You never did like crowds, did you?"
That's not the reason, but you don't tell him that.
The captain ascends the red-carpeted stairs. You stop him in his tracks with the words: "You look… very heroic."
You're not sure what his response will be, but you aren't expecting it when he pulls you into a warm embrace. You don't know how to respond to the gesture, so all you do is blink. The captain doesn't seem to mind.
He enters the arena. You listen to the applause rise up like a tide, and then die down back down. A few seconds later, Jonathan Archer's voice fills the silence.
Phlox and Archer may be gone, but you are not alone in the small waiting lounge.
Trip is seated on the edge of the gray sofa. The cushions don't sink under his weight. He's leaning forward, elbows on his knees, giving you a smile that is both triumphant and smug at the same time.
"Heroic?" you ask him, annoyed.
"You wouldn't have said it if you didn't agree with me," he points out. He suggested the compliment. You voiced it. He's made you uncomfortable on purpose and he knows it.
"You're blushing," Trip says.
"Vulcans do not blush."
"This one does. Why didn't you hug him back?"
Trip has always excelled at placing you in compromising situations, at forcing you to confront truths you would rather ignore. Death has not diminished that gift.
You didn't return the captain's gesture of affection because you thought that Trip would be offended. It wasn't the first gesture that Jonathan Archer has made in the years that you've served together, but you have never allowed yourself to think of the captain in anything other than a professional capacity. Trip was, and still is, a big part of the reason.
Trip sounds a little frustrated with you when he says, "Maybe it's time to ask yourself what you want and stop worryin' so much about me."
He told you almost the same thing ten years ago, when he advised you to follow your heart, even if it meant going against Vulcan tradition and breaking your engagement with Koss.
You want to tell him it's not as simple as that. But it was then, and it is now. Trip is dead, and he tells you that it's okay. He loves you too much to hold you back.
Thunderous applause fills the chamber. As it dies down, Jonathan Archer descends the steps into the lounge. He looks flushed, adrenaline causing his hands to shake ever so slightly. You're amazed that a man who can remain calm in life-threatening situations can still be frightened by speaking in public.
The captain looks surprised to see that you're still there. He asks what you thought of the speech. You know it by heart now, because he's rehearsed it for you so many times. You tell him that it was…moving.
There is a reception planned for after the ceremony, but the captain says he's not exactly in the mood to celebrate. You admit that you feel the same way, and for a brief moment, Trip's ghost steps between the two of you.
Soon the lounge will be filled with dignitaries, with reporters and Starfleet personnel. You only have a short time to decide how to proceed. Before the captain can make up an excuse to spend the evening in his suite checking on some trivial aspect of the decommission protocols, you ask him if he will join you for your evening meal. It would be much less formal than the reception, you tell him, and you would welcome the company.
He gives you a slightly surprised look, and you begin to think that perhaps this was a mistake, and then the captain smiles. He says he thinks he would enjoy that. You think that you would too.
As you predicted, the room is suddenly swarming with people jostling to shake the captain's hand and take his picture. They don't notice the engineer still sitting on the gray sofa, and they pass by him without a glance. Trip doesn't seem to mind. He's got eyes only for you, and he's smiling as the crowd closes in, blocking him from sight.
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End.
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