AN: After the warning I gave with the last chapter, I wanted to reassure readers that the story does not require a change in rating. I am not from the UK, so I apologize if any references aren't quite right. Things should start to make a little more sense now.

Thanks again for reading and sticking with the story.

*****************

"Excuse me?" Archer thought he must have misheard. "You what?"

"I wish to tender my resignation, Captain."

"In my ready room. Now," Archer ordered.

"I'm sorry, Captain. I can't leave sickbay for," Phlox consulted his chronometer, "another hour and forty-five minutes. I have patients."

Archer considered his own schedule. He shook his head ruefully. Enterprise was never boring. He wondered where he could find time to deal with this newest issue in an already too busy day. "I want to see you in my ready room in two hours," Archer finally replied in his best no-nonsense tone.

*******************

Trip stared unhappily at his computer. He hated this sort of research. As an engineer, he'd done more than his fair share of studying, and spent plenty of time deep in his electronic books. Given a choice, though, he'd rather be doing something active; building or repairing something, preferably. Not sitting in front of a computer screen trawling through records. He glanced down at the padd propped next to his computer monitor. He'd outlined the questions he wanted to address and his planned search strategy, an effort to go about his project in an organized fashion. He started with the records that were easy to access. When Enterprise had left space dock, each member of the crew had been given the chance to request a choice of periodicals be transmitted to the ship on a regular basis. Most had picked their home town, and Malcolm had been no exception. He had requested the London Times. He probably hadn't known the downloads would include the historical archives. Trip explored the database, sending simple queries. Malcolm had said his cousin had died when they were sixteen. Doing the math, he had figured out the year of the event, and had searched the archives for any reference to the incident. He'd found Brian's obituary first, a long piece that had extolled Brian's many virtues and accomplishments. Searching a few days further back he found a news piece.

In a tragic accident at Camp Wray campsite this past Saturday, Brian Reed, age 16, drowned in Lake Windermere. The accident occurred in the late afternoon while swimming with his cousin, Malcolm Reed, 16, who was also injured in the incident. Emergency personnel were called to the scene, but were unable to resuscitate Brian.

Trip was pleased to have found a report, but was puzzled at what the report didn't say. It didn't mention anything about Brian having a brain tumor, nor did it mention how Malcolm had been injured. The armory officer hadn't said anything about being hurt. Malcolm had said that his cousin had died because of a delay in getting to the hospital, but there was no mention of the amount of time that had elapsed before the emergency personnel had arrived. Trip had more questions than answers, and he jotted them down on the padd before continuing his search.

The next piece of the puzzle was easy to uncover; the medical licensing board databases were public. It only took a few minutes to find what he was looking for, a report of the minutes of a medical board meeting.

Dr. Charles Orten was brought before the board for investigation into the matter of the death of Brian Reed, 16. A complaint has been brought by the family of Mr. Reed, who died in a swimming accident after a seizure. The complaint contends that Mr. Reed had a brain tumor that Dr. Orten failed to diagnose in a timely manner. The tumor led to a seizure that resulted in a fatal injury to Mr. Reed. Dr Orten's actions were deemed to not have led directly to the death of Mr. Reed. However he failed to take adequate action to diagnose the brain tumor in a timely manner. Dr. Orten's medical license will be suspended for 90 days, and this incident will remain on file. A civil complaint has also been filed.

There was more, talking about conditions for the reinstatement of the license, but that didn't concern Trip. The article verified what Malcolm had already told him, but Trip was still confused. The report said that the doctor's negligence had not directly lead to Brian's death, but Malcolm clearly blamed the doctor. Trip frowned. He was finding more questions than answers. He entered another query. This time it took a few minutes longer to find what he was looking for in the hospital computer records, but eventually he found what he was looking for.

Autopsy report, Brian Reed, age 16.

There was a lot of technical medical information, which Trip skimmed. He reached the summary, and gave it his full attention.

The subject, a 16 year old well-nourished white male, died of a fractured C2 vertebra. Death was likely near instantaneous. The subject was found to have a contusion over the sagital suture. The subject was also found to have a 5 cm meningioma above the left temporal lobe. There are multiple post-mortem contusions over the subjects chest caused by resuscitation efforts. No other significant abnormalities were noted.

Trip sat back, stunned. Malcolm's cousin had died of a broken neck? Nothing in the news reports had indicated that. All had alluded to a failure of CPR, and that was what Malcolm had told Trip. How had Brian's neck been broken? Did Malcolm even know that his cousin's neck had been broken? Had anyone told him, or did he think that it was his inadequate CPR that had let his cousin die?

With sudden clarity, Trip knew that Malcolm hadn't known. All of Malcolm's behavior pointed to it. Trip wished the reports he'd found were more enlightening. He was certain Phlox had to know about this, and his instinct told him that the doctor knew far more.

With no other easy avenues to explore, Trip had to venture into the area he had been avoiding. He needed to get into the medical database. Tentatively he pushed a few keys, did a quick scan of his monitor, and then adjusted his query. His computer skills were standing him in good stead. He found the screen he needed, and then carefully typed in Malcolm's personnel number. A screen popped up, alerting him that these were sensitive protected records, and unauthorized access could result in legal action. Trip groaned. He had been granted access by Admiral Forrest after Archer had sent him a communication, explaining that to properly defend Phlox Trip needed the information. Admiral Forrest had reluctantly granted it. Still, having it emphasized just how private these records were didn't assuage Trip's guilt. How the records had become so highly classified was a mystery. Malcolm had been a minor at the time. Of course, his father had been a highly ranked Royal Naval officer, and there was always the possibility of blackmail, kidnapping, and other means of using his son against the senior Reed. That was more likely, Trip thought. The protection of the records was undoubtedly meant to protect Malcolm's father.

Trip dreaded this. He didn't want to dig into Malcolm's past. It made him feel dirty, like a voyeur. He spun the chair away from the computer monitor, and for several seconds stared out at space. He had been visualizing a campsite on Earth, trying to reconstruct what had happened there more than a quarter of a century ago, and the juxtaposition of the streaking stars was disorienting at first, but after several seconds his mind cleared. He was back in the hear and now, and he felt calmer. He stood up, and then reached over to turn the computer off. He'd already pried too much, uncovered too much ugliness, and there was much more to be uncovered, Trip was certain. He wanted no part of it. He wanted to go back to being a chief engineer, and to quit moonlighting as an attorney. For now he'd go down to engineering and do his real job.

Thirty minutes of hard work cleaning out the spare parts room had Trip in a better mood, but guilt was niggling at his mind, distracting him. He could refuse to do any further investigation for a time, rail against the assignment, and even protest to Archer, but ultimately he knew he would have to do his duty. He might hate it, but he would do it. With this insight, Trip realized he might as well get it over with. He returned to his quarters, and sick as it made him, he pushed on, consoling himself with the thought that the sooner he started, the sooner the distasteful task would be finished. He had left his computer connected to the medical records database, and within seconds he was logged back in with the password Admiral Forrest had provided, and staring at Malcolm's medical records.

The first screens were routine data. Records of childhood vaccinations, demographic information, and notes about a few minor illnesses, scrolled past. There was a gap of a few years, where Malcolm had apparently stayed quite well. Finally he found what he was looking for. It took several moments for Trip to understand what he was looking at. The notes were terse, written in medical short hand. As he scrolled through the records he began to piece together events. Malcolm had been brought in by ambulance with his cousin, who was dead on arrival, but Malcolm had refused to stop doing CPR. It had taken three adult men had to pull the one, slight teenager off his cousin and forcibly sedate him. He had refused to tell the emergency personnel that he was injured, but at the hospital he was discovered to have a fractured rib. He was bleeding into his chest, but wouldn't tell emergency personnel how he'd been injured. At the hospital there had been an emergency procedure to put in a chest tube, followed by a week in the hospital. He'd been discharged, and then readmitted a day later. Another week in the hospital, and finally he'd been discharged. The daily note had commented that he'd gone home with a maternal aunt. More ominously, there was a report, buried behind more warning screens, of an incident at the hospital involving Malcolm, his father, and his uncle. The older Reeds had been banned from Malcolm's hospital room for the remainder of his stay. Trip shook his head. He had known that Malcolm's relationship with his father was strained, but he had thought that it was the normal father-son tension, heightened by the fact that Malcolm had refused to enter the British Royal Navy, in favor of joining Starfleet . Trip had never suspected this level of strife.

Trip needed a mental break. He backed out of the hospital records, and returned to more general searches of the public databases. An article written eight days after the accident chilled Trip:

Police were called to 111 Lane St at 3:30 PM for what neighbors initially described as a 'domestic disturbance', but the responding police officer, Sergeant Cowell, hastened to explain was a 'home accident. Malcolm Reed, 16, was taken to hospital by emergency personnel. His father, Captain Stuart Reed, explained to police that the younger Reed had been released from hospital yesterday, following an incident that had resulted in his cousin's death a week prior. According to Captain Reed, the young man was still on pain medication, causing him to become lightheaded and stumble on a landing, reinjuring himself. He was transported to the hospital as a precaution. A police spokesman described the initial report of a domestic disturbance as 'a misunderstanding', and a 'personal matter'. Captain Reed was described by police spokesman as 'a highly decorated naval officer who is an upstanding member of our community'. Neighbors declined to speak to reporters.

Trip found the article ominous. The subtext was clear. Something had happened at the Reed household, but no one had wanted to be responsible for taking on the powerful senior Reed, with his political and naval connections. Trip's heart was pounding, and his palms were sweaty. This was uglier than he'd imagined. When he'd begun looking into this on Phlox behalf, he had expected to find an unpleasant incident, but nothing this ugly. Malcolm had never breathed so much as a hint about these painful events until his drugged confession; to Trip that spoke volumes. He doubted the armory officer would ever forgive this terrible invasion of his privacy, but Trip had already come too far. He had to continue.

Unhappily Trip returned to the medical database. Records about Malcolm's second visit to the hospital, only a day after the first discharge, were inexplicably missing. An hour of intense searching later, frequently using his powerful password, were fruitless. He uncovered locatins where he suspected the records had been, but they'd been expunged, somehow. Trip felt gooseflesh break out. In this day and age, such manipulation of records was unheard of. High political powers had to have been involved. The implications were dire.

An idea struck Trip. He scrolled quickly through the records, moving forward in time. Finally he found what he sought. The Starfleet entry physical. His eyes moved to the list of pre-existing medical conditions. He read through the routine entries, noted the pineapple allergy, highlighted in red, and then moved to the next page. Finally he found what he was looking for under the Past Medical History section. The file mentioned multiple fractured ribs, and a hemothorax treated with a chest tube, injuries that had been previously noted. There was nothing else there. He was momentarily disappointed, but then he looked back. Multiple fractured ribs. He keyed back to the earlier records when Malcolm had first been brought into the hospital. One broken rib. A serious fracture that had caused the hemothorax, but only one rib. Somewhere along the line Malcolm had acquired two more broken ribs—and there was no record of how it had happened. Somehow, on the first day home after being hospitalized for a week, Malcolm had managed to break two more ribs. Combined with the cryptic record of the 'domestic disturbance' and the fact that Malcolm had gone home with an aunt, not his family, and it was obvious something terrible had occurred. Trip was ready to quit, but noted a flashing alert. While he'd been pursuing the medical records, the computer had continued an earlier search in the background, and now it alerted him that something had been found. His queries had uncovered another news article, this one dated two weeks after Malcolm's second hospitalization.

The British Royal Navy today announced the promotion of Captain Stuart Reed to the rank of Rear Admiral. The announcement falls just two days after the selection of Admiral James Bigelow to head the British detachment to the newly formed Starfleet Command, headquartered in San Francisco, California, USA. Captain (P) Reed will take over the position as Chief Military Advisor to the Prime Minister. The choice was lauded at the highest levels of government. A reception will be held for Admiral Bigelow and Captain(P) Reed next month, at an undisclosed location.

No mention of newly minted Admiral's family, or the recent tragedy.

It explained the hospital's unwillingness to cross the senior Reed-- news of his impending promotion undoubtedly had leaked out, and he would have friends in high places. Trip didn't like to think what that must have meant for Malcolm. The images his mind was dredging up were ugly and he felt ill. A wave of nausea swept over him, and he moved rapidly to the head. He managed to gain control of his stomach, but he was shuddering. Did Phlox know what was in the missing records? Trip had very high level access, thanks to Admiral Forrest. He doubted Phlox, an alien, would have been able to obtain as high a level, let alone higher. But if the doctor knew about Malcolm's past, Trip fully understood Phlox reluctance to mention any of this. This information could not be made public. Malcolm would be beyond mortified. He had spent a lifetime burying these hurts, fiercely protecting his dignity. What would it do to him if his secrets were abruptly revealed, and his cloak of privacy was stripped away. It couldn't happen. Trip now fully understood why Phlox was unwilling to keep the secret, even at the cost of his position with Starfleet.

Trip had one last task to perform, before he could close the medical records for, he hoped, the last time. He hastily backed out of Malcolm's records, and logged into Ensign Carey's file. Skimming through them he saw that she had a history of back pain and back spasms going back to her teenage years. A horseback riding accident had fractured two vertebra in her back. She had been on treated for exacerbations of her pain on multiple occasions. Phlox had been giving her therapy with one of his more slimy creature's saliva, and she had been making progress, but had still been prone to severe spasms- especially after traumas. It was one more piece in the puzzle.

Trip desperately wanted to take a shower, to feel clean and let the warm water wash away the unpleasant scenes his active imagination had recreated. He needed to talk with Malcolm but the thought gave him butterflies, and he needed to be in a calmer frame of mind. When he spoke with the armory officer he would need to be clearheaded and unemotional. He should talk to Phlox first, he realized. Armed with his new knowledge, he might be able to coax Phlox into filling in the details. Perhaps together they could come up with a strategy for approaching Malcolm. He moved to the intercom, preparing to call sickbay. He jumped when a burst of static came through the intercom before he had pushed the transmit button.

"Commander Tucker, this is Captain Archer."

Trip's brow wrinkled. He was off-duty, and Archer did not sound like this was a social call. "Yes, Captain."

"Commander, please come to my ready room. Phlox is here. He has offered his resignation from Enterprise." Even over the intercom Archer's displeasure was clear. Trip was stunned.

"Captain, you can't let him—I need to talk to him, Captain!"

"Yes. You do." Archer's voice was tart. "Please come up to my ready room."

Trip had known Archer for many years, and he knew when the captain was working hard to control his temper, and this was one of those times. Who he was angry at was unclear. Trip suspected Malcolm and Phlox were currently vying for top spot on the captain's list. Not wanting to add his own name, he simply replied, "Yes, sir."

Archer faced the doctor across his desk. Phlox was his usual unflappable self. In contrast Archer's mind was racing, uncertain where to begin.

"I'm sorry, Captain. I can't let this go on any longer. I am going to resign from the Starfleet Medical Exchange Program. With my resignation, the hearing need not continue. I'll stipulate that I made a poor decision, that I should have triaged Ensign Carey first. While she likely would not have survived, my decision was wrong," Phlox told Archer.

Archer tilted his head to the side and squinted at the doctor. "Do you really believe that?"

Phlox smiled sadly. "I believe that Ensign Carey was critically injured, and that I missed it. In retrospect, she should have been triaged first, and scanned first. Whether she would have lived or not is impossible to say. "

"That doesn't sound very convincing to me, Doctor," Archer said. "Command Tucker is convinced you had good reasons for making the decisions you did."

"Perhaps so, Captain. But it doesn't change the fact that my decision was wrong. More importantly, this hearing is tearing the crew apart. I can't be responsible for that. With my stipulation to my error, the hearing can end, and the ship can get back to normal. "

"Only one problem with that," Archer said dryly.

"Captain?"

"It's not the truth. At least, not the whole truth. This is the first hearing I've held on Enterprise, and I certainly don't want a precedent on my ship that we place expediency over the truth."

"Captain, you're opening what I believe Commander Tucker would refer to as 'a can of worms'. You don't know the whole story. People could get hurt."

"Doctor," Archer interrupted. "I can't stop you from resigning. But the hearing will proceed. I'll not have a member of my crew—and you are a member of my crew, Doctor—made a scapegoat. Your resignation will be accepted at the conclusion of the hearing, if you wish to offer it then. As the hearing judge, I don't accept your stipulation of wrongdoing. I have a responsibility to make sure the integrity of the hearing is preserved."

"Captain—" Phlox tried.

"You're dismissed, Doctor." Archer rose. At the same moment a soft chime told him someone was at the door. Before he could answer, Trip barged in.

"Captain! I've got to talk to you!" Trip skidded to a halt, noticing the doctor.

"I took the liberty of asking Commander Tucker, as your defense counsel, to join us. Commander, I've already told the doctor that the hearing will continue. "

Trip crossed his arms over his chest and glared at his 'client'. "Thank you, Captain. I wonder, could I talk to the doctor for a moment? You're the judge, so I'm not sure you should be listening to this."

"Agreed. I'll be on the bridge. I'm going to let Malcolm know that the hearing is going to resume the day after tomorrow." Archer's gaze travelled between the two, and then settled back on the doctor. "We'll discuss your 'resignation' after the hearing doctor." Archer stepped around the desk and side-stepped Trip. At the door he turned and added, "I'll be wanting my ready room back."

Trip grinned at him, but as soon as the captain was gone, the grin faded. He turned to the doctor. "You should have called me, Doc. We could talk about this."

"There's nothing to discuss, Commander. You're determined to get to the bottom of what you consider a mystery. I think your efforts are going to result in a lot of needless pain. I'd rather admit guilt, and resign. This matter can be put to rest and Enterprise can resume exploring the galaxy, and not be bothered any longer with this business."

"Without you, you mean."

"Yes, well that would be part and parcel of resigning."

"It's not the right answer, Doc. I know why you don't want the hearing to go on. I know you're protecting Malcolm. I've been investigating—"

"I know," Phlox put in dryly.

"—and I get why you don't want to drag up all that past stuff, but there has to be a way. Malcolm won't like it, but I need you to fill in some holes. Not medical stuff," he added hastily. "Just other information. And then we'll talk with Malcolm. Off the record. Maybe we can get him to agree to what can be brought out at the hearing. A compromise. He's going to hate me, regardless of what we do, but maybe we can minimize the damage."

Twenty minutes later, Phlox and Trip were in the engineer's quarters. It was more private, and more comfortable, than chatting in sickbay. Phlox had called Cutler and asked her to cover sickbay and notify him if there were any emergencies. With much of the crew on down time, it had been fairly quiet. Trip offered Phlox a drink and a snack. The doctor accepted a hot cup of tea, while Trip made a cup of coffee. Once they were comfortably settled, Trip started. "I've been investigating. I was able to get into Malcolm's medical records."

"Hmmm. You're very thorough, Commander."

Trip nodded, not adding anything.

Phlox sighed. "I wish you hadn't done this. It would be much easier for everyone if I just left the Exchange Program quietly.

Trip shook his head. "It'd be easier, but it wouldn't be right. And Doc, it's not just about you. Malcolm can't go around blaming every doctor for something that happened years ago."

"That is true. But he has good reason." Phlox paused, stopped to take a long sip of his tea. He closed his eyes and savored the warmth, allowed himself a moment of calm, before opening his eyes to continue. "The lieutenant has an interesting medical history," Phlox began.

Trip snorted. "That's an understatement."

"Which has resulted in him not trusting doctors. And with good reason. " Phlox added.

Trip sobered. "I know. He told me about his cousin."

Phlox eyes widened. "He told you about his cousin?"

Trip nodded. "He told me that his cousin died after he had a seizure from a brain tumor. The doctor didn't believe his cousin had anything wrong with him, and he drowned when he had the seizure while he was swimming. Malcolm says he gave CPR, but they couldn't get him to a hospital in time. But that doesn't match up with what I've found in my snooping. " Trip tried for a light tone, but it fell flat.

Phlox had been listening intently. He tipped his head to the side. "Is that all he said? Did he mention his injuries, or the hospital? "

Trip snorted again. "His injuries? Of course not. He made it sound like he was fine. He said he was giving his cousin CPR. The hospital records show he was injured, though."

Phlox wrapped his fingers around the warm mug and took another long sip. "I think you got a rather sanitized version, Commander. I might be crossing a line here," Phlox added softly, "but you've got most of the information already. What I can add is what I've learned from a close friend of mine. Dr. Blair Smythe, the human doctor that is on Denobula right now. Before he left we corresponded and exchanged information we thought might be helpful. He's British. He was working at the hospital Malcolm was taken to when his cousin died. He was a young doctor, fresh out of medical school, but he never forgot the episode. In fact, he tried to get his superiors to do something about the situation, but they were subject to political pressures. When they wouldn't intervene, he was so disturbed that he transferred out, and went to work for Starfleet. When he learned I was going to be on Enterprise, he provided me the background information he thought I might need but wouldn't be able to get from the medical records. He suspected they'd been tampered with."

Trip jumped in. "He was right. There's a big chunk missing, from what I could tell."

Phlox studied Trip for a moment before continuing, mildly surprised that the engineer had been able to get that deeply into the hospital records. Smythe had told him how deeply the incident had been buried. Trip's attention remained riveted on the doctor. Phlox continued. "The lieutenant was severely injured. He nearly died. He wouldn't allow anyone to help him until they'd taken care of his cousin, despite the fact that Brian was beyond help."

Trip lifted his eyebrows. Malcolm's story had been very different from the one Phlox was telling. "The autopsy report said that his cousin had a broken neck, but Malcolm said his cousin died because they didn't get him to a hospital in time," Trip offered.

"I'm sure that is what Lieutenant Reed believes." Phlox voice was certain.

"What did happen?" Trip asked.

Phlox was slightly more at ease, knowing Malcolm had confided, at least partially, in Trip. He wasn't giving out any medical information that the engineer hadn't found on his own. "His cousin had a brain tumor that hadn't been diagnosed. He and Malcolm went camping, despite Brian not being well. He was having increasing neurological symptoms. His doctor was terribly negligent in not pursuing those symptoms. I believe he was censured."

Trip nodded, not interrupting.

"The boys decided to go for a swim in a lake near the campsite. Apparently Brian had been a competitive swimmer, and very good, before his illness, and Malcolm was a competent swimmer. They went in the water. There was a floating platform on the lake. They swam out to it, and while they were lounging on the float, Brian had a generalized seizure-- what used to be called a grand mal seizure. Malcolm tried to prevent him from falling off the platform, but Brian was bigger and stronger. During his seizure he struck or kicked Malcolm in the chest and broke a rib. Brian rolled off the platform, and in a freak accident he hit his head on an underwater rock and broke his neck. He probably died instantly. Of course, there was no way for Malcolm to know that. He went in after his cousin and managed to drag him the hundred feet back to the shore, where he started CPR. A couple hiking by the lake spotted him and called for help. They tried to get Malcolm to stop CPR, because it was obvious that Brian was dead. Malcolm wouldn't stop, or let the medics help him, until they got Brian to the hospital. As soon as they arrived at the hospital Brian was pronounced dead. The autopsy found the broken neck, and the meningioma-"

"The what?" Trip interrupted.

"The meningioma. It's a tumor of the lining of the brain," Phlox explained before continuing. "By the time they were at that hospital, Malcolm's lung had collapsed. The broken rib had become displaced, probably due to the exertion of dragging his cousin to shore and doing CPR, and it lacerated an artery. The bleeding in his chest collapsed the lung. He'd also severely sprained his ankle dragging Brian to the shore. By the time they got to the hospital Malcolm was exhausted and in shock. The doctors had to put in a chest tube to drain the blood and reexpand the lung. He was in the hospital for a week." Phlox had been speaking matter-of-factly, but now he shook his head sadly, "Apparently, his uncle blamed Malcolm for Brian's death. Said Malcolm should never have agreed to go camping and never should have let Brian go swimming, completely ignoring the fact that Brian outweighed Malcolm by twenty pounds and that he himself had accused Brian of malingering and told him to get off his ass. He accused Malcolm of not getting Brian out of the water quickly enough, and of not doing CPR correctly. Said Malcolm was more worried about his own injuries, and was a weakling. Malcolm's father took his brother's side, not his son's. There was an incident in the hospital and the uncle had to be removed from Malcolm's room. Malcolm wouldn't tell anyone what happened, but he had a bruised check that hadn't been there when he was admitted. Malcolm's father left with his brother. That was on the morning after Brian's death. No one visited after that."

Phlox stood up, agitated, and began pacing around Trip's cabin. "A sixteen year old boy was grieving, injured and in pain, and his family blamed and abandoned him. They lived fifteen minutes away, and not one person came to see him. When he was discharged from the hospital, he was sent home in a cab. He was readmitted the next day. My friend couldn't tell me anything else. Apparently everything was hush-hush. Malcolm went to live with an aunt and uncle on his mother's side. Two years later he joined Starfleet."

"It's really no wonder Malcolm doesn't trust doctors," Trip commented, stunned. His own investigation had been disturbing, but this new information made him wonder how Malcolm had managed to survive sixteen years with his father. "You know, when he came back to the hospital he had two new cracked ribs, but there are no records about what happened."

"My friend didn't know about that. But since that time Lieutenant Reed had never voluntarily seen a doctor, until he came on Enterprise."

Trip stared at the doctor. "What do ya mean? He'd have to, wouldn't he? I mean, to get into Starfleet he had to have a physical, and annual physicals, and I'm sure he gets sick sometimes, everybody does."

Phlox shook his head. "I said voluntarily. He did the Starfleet physical, or he couldn't have joined, but he had to be threatened with disciplinary action to make his annual physicals."

Phlox fell silent. He picked up his cold mug and took it over to the sink. He emptied the cold beverage, and then moved over to the water heater. He got a fresh tea bag and filled the mug with hot water. When he'd added a little sweetener and lemon, he returned to his seat. "Hoshi and Lieutenant Reed convinced me to try this beverage. I thought it an odd at first, but I've grown to enjoy it. I find it very relaxing." He glanced at Trip. "I actually took pride in the fact that Lieutenant Reed sought medical care from me on occasion. I had thought it was because I was Denobulan and so perhaps there weren't so many negative associations. And then all this happened."

Trip had been reflecting. "Malcolm doesn't like water," he said thoughtfully.

"He doesn't? Well, it would make sense, wouldn't it?" Phlox replied.

"Yeah. He's never mentioned it, but whenever we're close to water, he stays as far away from it as he can. I just thought he couldn't swim, or something. "

Phlox sighed. "You know, the lieutenant can be infuriating, and stubborn. I sometimes forget what he's been through."

Trip looked up, but Phlox shook his head. "No, no more. All I will say is that because Lieutenant Reed does not trust doctors, on more than one occasion he has had serious injuries go unreported and untreated until they became life-threatening. He has become very proficient in self treatment. I could probably hire him as a medic." Phlox managed a wan smile at the thought, but it quickly faded. He continued. "When the shuttlepod accident occurred, and the lieutenant had an obviously dislocated shoulder, I was concerned he was hiding more serious injuries. Ensign Carey had a history of back pain, and I thought she had aggravated an old injury. Lieutenant Reed is right in one regard-- I focused on him, and I didn't give Ensign Carey's complaint enough credence. "

Trip sat silent. Phlox had known too much about both Reed and Carey, and he'd used that information to formulate his triage decisions. Entirely rational at the time—but it had turned out wrong. Could anyone blame the doctor? He was only… well, not human, but humanoid. Prone to error. He'd had to make a decision during a crisis, and he did. They could second guess the doctor forever, but they hadn't been in his shoes. Trip was resolute in his determination to defend the doctor. He just didn't know how he could do it without destroying Malcolm.