"Come on, Trip. It can't be all that bad. At least Jon let you come home."

"Yeah, but he dragged me out of the Engine Room, and now my own personal Clingy MacGuffin knows right where to find me." He sighed and scrubbed his hands through his hair. It was still dirty, and stood up in spikes Liz would have found comical if her big brother weren't so despondent.

He needed cheering up, and what he'd said gave her an idea.

"Clingy MacGuffin, eh? I though she was the woman of your dream."

"You know me better than that, Lizzie. When have I ever been into women who made it too easy. Oh, no. Natalie was fun, and she reminded me of home – but she's not the woman who won't let me get a night's sleep."

"Oh, do tell. Who is this mystery woman of yours – and where did you meet her? No, don't tell me; let me guess. Her name is Snow White, and you met her in the forest and saved her at the last second from eating a poisoned apple."

"Well, she did enjoy the hell out of a plum …" Trip gave her a faint little smile. Good. At least he was trying.

"And you ticked off a few of her housemates by swooping in, and you had to knock them out with a spell, and that's why they were napping in the street."

"Don't you know me better than that, Lizzie?"

"Of course I do. But it doesn't seem that Starfleet does. So play along. Maybe we'll figure something out – or at least give you a little respite."

"All right, Lizzie. I'll play along. I didn't meet her in the woods. Honestly, I didn't 'meet' her at all, per se, and I don't know her name, but I'm sure it's not Snow White."

"So, if your Mystery Lady isn't Snow White; maybe her name was Ella and her day job is to be the scullery maid and chimney sweep at her wicked stepmother's house while her father remains utterly oblivious. Her fairy godmother helped her get to the ball in a fancy gown -"

"Well, it was a jazz club, not a ball. And she wasn't wearing anything fancy. She had a cloak with a cowl, and leggings, and it all fit her so she looked like a cross between a rapier, a dancer, and a hunting cat. And, Lizzie – I didn't need to see the pointed ears under that cowl to know she was a Vulcan – the most beautiful Vulcan I've ever seen in my life." He paused, and when he looked up at Lizzie, his eyes were intense. "And the best-smelling, too. I dream about the way she smells, Lizzie."

"Ahhh. Her smell is the spell." She giggled a little; the bourbon they were sharing was making her a little silly. She didn't usually drink.

"Her smell is a hell of a spell." Trip didn't drink all that often either, and he also didn't look like he'd had much sleep at all since whatever had happened, happened. But he looked totally serious. "Can't believe I smelled her again in the Engine Room two days ago, and I missed her because I took a couple of hours to do something as useless as sleep."

"So…we've got a bona fide Alien Fair Folk Cat Who Came Back." If they were going to play Fairy Tale Tropes, and it got Trip out of his funk, she was going to play with all she had. She had a feeling Trip needed this, and she knew she did.

"I guess you could call her that. There was sure as hell something happening between us that I'm not even going to try to explain, but then Natalie showed up."

"Your own personal Clingy MacGuffin. Hmmm… do you think maybe she was sent by the Big Bad Wolf?"

"Well, that would be Orin Price-Thomas – but he was already gone by then. And I don't think he has a clue who Natalie is. He was too busy bashing me and mistreating Lara to ask what her name was."

"So there is a Big Bad Wolf in this story. Is there also a Little Red Riding Hood? Would that be your Lady of the Smelly Spell? Is she a damsel in distress?"

"Well, at first, she looked enchanted by the music….and maybe, just maybe, by me, too. I was sure as hell enchanted by her."

"And then what happened?" Lizzie felt like he was coming to the meat of the story now, or as much of it as he was likely to give, anyway.

Natalie acted like The Fool – and not the good kind, but one maybe in cahoots with The Damned Big Bad Wolf. And Miss Pointed Ears Under That Cowl –" Trip stopped, and Liz could tell he was editing out part of the story. Well, at least he was talking, and it was his story. She let it go. "She ran out, fast. And I never found out why she was there, or her name, or – anything but that she ran to the corner by my old place across from the Consulate and lost the pear – "

"Which probably had an evil spell on it – "

"Whatever. And then she said something to me in what I assume was Vulcan. The church bells – "

"Struck midnight?"

"I really don't even remember, Lizzie. I was too busy getting lost in her eyes. She has the most gorgeous, eloquent hazel eyes…" He trailed off.

"And then what happened?"

"She disappeared into the Consulate like a scared key deer, and I stood there all night like an idiot who got a love potion or something." Trip didn't seem to even realize he was mixing analogies. "And I can't stop thinking about her, Lizzie, or dreaming about her, but they put me off the ship, I'm trapped in this dungeon I used to call home, and I'm probably never even going to see her again."

He didn't say it out loud, but his eyes made it plain as day. This was the woman he was supposed to be with, and Trip Tucker was one Distressed Dude.