A/N: As with the last chapter, this one still centres around on Jon and Phlox, as they come to terms with their respective misjudgements. It also leads into the next part of the story, where Jon starts planning the action that will bring the Xyrillians to justice.

With that in mind, if any of you are hoping ( or waiting!) for the rest of the team to start helping out - well, hopefully you won't be disappointed by the next chapter. For this one, though, it's a bit more conscience-searching for both Jon and Phlox.

As always, I hope you enjoy, and thanks again for all your very kind reviews!

Violations

Chapter Four - 20/20 Hindsight

16:07. Ten minutes had passed now, since Phlox had learned why he'd been called so urgently to Trip's quarters. Now that he'd recovered from the shock of its reasons, his professional persona had returned. As he quietly told himself, such concern for his patient was long overdue.

While his Captain kept watch at his friend's side, he'd set to work on the terminal on Trip's desk. Quietly, seriously, he'd studied the scans he'd taken when his still blissfully oblivious patient had first come to see him. In silence, he condemned himself for not doing so before. Or, at least, with more thoroughness.

Even from meeting a supposedly friendly new species, he should - should - have checked these scans more closely. Instead of taking their word for it, he should have checked himself that the Commander - his patient - hadn't been harmed. Insisted on going back with him for that surgery, which, by the pure grace of good fortune, hadn't left him with anything more serious than a hormonal imbalance.

When lives were at stake, there could be no excuse for letting assumptions of good will, or good treatment, put those lives at risk.

From a slightly different viewpoint, he now heard his Captain's voice revealing the same regret.

"You know, doc? I just realized, not once… not once, did I think to ask you about Trip's safety."

He was safe enough now, of course. Sleeping peacefully at his side, Trip still lay in a haven of threat-free dreams. But just days ago - yes, it had all been so different. Still watching him, Jon felt every part of that difference, and again cursed his insensitivity. There were times, he thought, when he just didn't deserve Trip's friendship.

Making sure his friend was still settled enough that he wouldn't disturb him, Jon then rose to his feet – needing to stretch the stiffness out of his legs, and release more of the tension that still lay beneath it. Even when he'd made several circuits of Trip's quarters, though, so much of it still lingered – especially when he glanced back at his friend, and reflected on the horrific ordeal he'd been through.

"I mean, he had this… this thing, growing inside him. But I never asked if he was in danger, or…"

'…if it posed such a threat to him that it could have killed him.'

He couldn't bring himself to say that last part aloud. A kind, quiet voice told him he hadn't had to.

"For what it's worth, Captain… if his life had been under any kind of threat, I would have told you."

His thoughts still focussed on all the 'if onlys…' that could have protected his friend, Jon just nodded. Forever locked now inside his conscience, he'd have to live with those regrets, as best he could. More immediately, though, a change in his CMO's expression pushed all those thoughts aside, as he leaned over his shoulder.

"Have you found something?"

Still checking his data, Phlox then nodded. Clearly troubled by what he'd just seen, it was his turn now, to offer his Captain a glance of both regret and apology.

"Yes, Captain, I'm afraid so. Something I unforgivably missed when I first examined the Commander."

Pointing to the display that, Jon had to admit, was a blur of data, he then softly continued.

"There were minute traces of Synol in Commander Tucker's system. It's a hallucinogenic drug, outlawed in many parts of the galaxy."

If he was expecting the anger he knew he deserved, it was an even greater surprise when it didn't come. Or maybe the sadness on his Captain's face, in his voice, suggested that he'd suspected this already.

"From the gas they used during that decompression?"

"I would say so, Captain, yes. It fits with the timeline of exposure and effect," Phlox nodded, grateful for his understanding, but still furious with himself that he'd let the Xyrillians deceive him. As he then bitterly admitted, that deception had robbed them of crucial proof, and physical evidence.

"We can still use these scans, Captain, for any action you wish to take against them. But I'm afraid its original effect on Commander Tucker has long since metabolised out of his system."

Still watching his friend, Jon just nodded, his mind racing. His conscience equally stricken with guilt. All those times he'd called him from that damn ship. Scared. Trapped. Almost begging him for help.

'I just want out, sir. I'm not kiddin'. I can't take much more of this!'

And his response, to the rising fear and panic in his voice? God, it would forever haunt him now.

'Take a nap, Trip. That's an order.'

The thought of what those sick bastards might have done in that time left him sick to his stomach. While his imagination ran horrifically away from him, though, his CMO's thoughts stayed where they were. But hearing what he'd worked out for himself already still made his skin crawl with utter disgust.

"I'm guessing it was used to subdue the Commander's ability to defend himself," he said quietly, glancing up at Jon for a moment, and taking the silent nod he found there as his cue to continue. "Under its effects, their insistence that he should sleep, while he was in such a vulnerable state…"

"…must have given them a real headache when Trip kept resisting," Jon finished for him, studying his friend in both pride at his defiance of this threat against him, and horror at its failure.

And while he was thinking about failures… oh, yes. Yes, the greatest one of all rested solely with him. How could he have been so naïve, to send Trip into a situation that went against all his instincts? First contact with an unknown species, whose actions should have instantly aroused his suspicions.

The way they'd stalked Enterprise. Disrupted their sensors, and kept to audio instead of visual contact. Shown such interest in his chief engineer. Such eagerness to 'accept his services' and… damn it!

Why the hell couldn't he have gotten that message from Starfleet, just nine damn days earlier? If the Vulcans really were their closest allies, then why hadn't they sent out this warning before?

A familiar anger now joined the bitter fury that was simmering just under Jon's ability to control it. Emotionless, arrogant bastards. God, no wonder he'd grown up with such resentment against them.

That had nothing, though, against the fury that raged through him as he glanced back towards Trip. Fury at the Xyrillians, for what they'd done to him. Fury at the Vulcans, for leaving it so late to send that warning. But most of all, anger at himself, for letting him down. Failing to protect him, so catastrophically badly.

Returning to his side, he sat carefully on the edge of his bed, resting his hand on Trip's shoulder. For several moments, he allowed himself the comfort of this contact – taking even greater consolation from knowing that Trip was now in the safest of hands now, as he rose again to his feet.

Meeting Phlox's eyes, he started to make his request, then nodded, and smiled, when a gentle voice told him he didn't need to.

"Don't worry, Captain. If you need to be elsewhere, I'll stay with him, until you get back."

As soon as he stepped through the door, though, and started striding down the corridor, the smile vanished from Jonathan Archer's face. He'd done all he could as an outraged friend. Now he had to act as an equally outraged Captain.