Chapter Two

For the next few days, Trip kept to himself. He was officially off duty, but he didn't care. He really didn't want to be around anyone. There were times when he couldn't get out of bed. There were times when he would just burst into tears. He screamed at night in his sleep, causing Phlox to have to come to his quarters and sedate him as others reported the screaming.

They had broken him, everything that he was seemed to be gone, so was his will, and all that was left was an empty shell. How could he be of any use to anyone now? He couldn't. His mother would gladly have him home, but he couldn't face his family right now. He didn't want them to see him like this. He had always been close to his sister Lizzy and thought about calling her several times, but he couldn't. He just couldn't bring himself to talk about his experience, and he still couldn't remember all of it. There were holes in his memory and he lived with the fear that one day, it would return revealing more horrors.

Phlox had said that Trip was suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, depression and anxiety disorder. Physically, he was also experiencing the residual effects of being tortured and having his back broken. He had required immediate surgery as soon as he was back on Enterprise and Dr. Phlox had been able to repair his injured back with no resulting paralysis. But he was wearing a back brace and still in pain.

Trip thought maybe he should just check himself into one of Starfleet's medical facilities and join the ranks of the disabled. He could even live his life out in one of their private, obscure facilities for injured and disabled service people. He would fit right in now, because he was surely injured and disabled, from the inside out.

After a few days Phlox had allowed him to return to half-time duties. Trip had resolved within himself that he would work as hard as he could to do his job. He had always loved being an engineer, and right now, his job was all that he had to hold on to.

At breakfast on his first day back, he tried to get in and out of the mess hall before anyone noticed him. Phlox had said one of the conditions for releasing him from sick bay and going back to work was that he had to eat. Ever since he had returned from the Lisyrian ship he had had trouble getting and keeping food down. He was under weight and that concerned the doctor. But, what he had seen and experienced on that ship was etched in his mind and the sight of food now nauseated him most of the time, especially meat.

Trip grabbed a couple of pieces of fruit, a pastry, some yogurt and a cup of coffee and sat down in a corner in the back of the mess hall. He had not taken any, but having seen the bacon, sausage and ham, along with the smell was making him sick. He put his hand over his face for a few moments.

"Commander," a voice said. Trip looked up at Ensign Hoshi Sato, the ship's linguist and Communications Officer. "May I join you?" she asked. The last thing Trip wanted was company, but he didn't want to be rude.

"Sure, have a seat," he finally said.

"Are you alright?" Hoshi asked. "You don't look so well."

"I'm okay. Just trying…Phlox made me promise to eat something, in the mess hall at least twice a day."

"Well you didn't take very much. Sure you don't want to get some protein?

"No!" Trip said, reaching for Hoshi's hand. That startled her. "I'm sorry, Hoshi, guess I'm a little jumpy today."

"It's alright," Hoshi replied observing him for a few minutes as she ate her oatmeal and fruit. Trip still had not eaten anything. Being an expert in language and body language, Hoshi determined that the sight and smell of food seemed to disgust him.

"You know it helps if you cut it up in very small pieces and eat very slowly. It also helps if you engage in a conversation with a friend while doing it; it'll take your mind off of what you're doing." Hoshi then leaned over and begin to cut up the food on Trip's plate. She then begin to engage him in a conversation about warp drive, how the engines jumping to warp always unnerved her, and how he could tell when they were at different levels of warp. Pretty soon he had eaten most of the food on his plate.

Trip smiled a little. "Guess I better be getting to engineering. Don't wanna be late my first day back."

"Have a good shift Commander."

"Thanks Hoshi," he said rising.

"You would do the same for me," she said. He nodded and she watched him walk away. She smiled thinking that she just may need to accidently, bump into him at other meals as well.

Engineering, 0300 hours.

Trip was going through the motions of working. He sat in his office and tried to read over engineering reports, duty rosters and repair requests. But he couldn't concentrate. He tossed a padd across his desk and buried his head in his hands.

"I hope that wasn't my very lively and interesting request for upgrades in the armory," an accented voice said. Trip looked up and half-way smiled.

"Hey Mal," Trip said, "That wasn't your request, there's yours," he said pointing to the trash can sitting next to his desk.

"Bloody hell!" Malcolm said.

"Just kiddin, just kiddin. You're such an easy target," Trip grinned. "What brings you down to the dungeon?" Malcolm frowned. Since when did Trip refer to engineering as a dungeon?

"Looking for you. Thought I'd look in on you, see if you needed help with anything."

"Jon send you to spy on me?" Trip asked squinting his eyes.

"No. But the Captain is worried about you, so am I. How are you really Trip? You can't seem to eat; I know you don't sleep well. You know you can't keep going like this."

"I know Mal, I know. It's just that…" Trip lowered his head.

"You know you can talk to me," Malcolm said. "No matter what it is, how bad it is."

"Trust me, you don't wanna know Mal. Besides, I can't, can't verbalize it. I can't put it in to words. Don't want to. I just want to forget."

"Phlox said it isn't healthy for you to try and keep it all in. He said you need to talk about it."

"I can't I tell you!" Trip said as he got up from his seat and started pacing around his office very fast.

"Okay, okay," Malcolm said. "Calm down. I'm sorry, didn't mean to push you." Trip stopped pacing and blew out a sigh.

"It's not your fault. I just… I need to concentrate real hard to do my job. I can't sit around thinking about the past if I'm gonna make it through the day."

"What about movies, you can think about movies, right?" Malcolm said quickly changing the subject.

"Movies?'

"Yes, of course. It's my turn to pick and I could use some suggestions. I was thinking about a couple of 20th century classics like, "Battle of the Bulge", "Patton," or "Bridge Over the River Kwai!"

"War movies," Trip said as if exasperated.

"Those are fine movies, rather exemplary I'd venture to say."

"If you ask me you can stick with that era, but I'd suggest something that others might find more entertainin', like "The Exorcist," or "Poltergeist."

"Horror movies!" Malcolm whined. "Well I suppose those are good for something; getting the women to cozy up to you." Trip actually laughed.

"You got a date?" he beamed. "Who is it? C'mon Mal, spill it. Its crewman Barry isn't it? I've seen the way you look at her. Or, or maybe it's Ensign Cutler, yeah, it's her isn't it."

"No, it's neither of them. Besides, it's just a friend, someone we both know and love." Trip thought for a moment.

"Hoshi? You asked Hoshi on a date?" Trip grinned with delight. "It's about time."

"Oh for heaven's sakes, it's not like that with Hoshi and me. We're just good friends. Well, maybe I'd like it to be more but…"

"Well don't be a chicken Malcolm. You only live once. Go for it!" For a while Malcolm was delighted to be having this conversation. It was the best one he and Trip had had in a long time. They talked, laughed, even looked at Malcolm's request for upgrades in the armory. Thirty minutes later he had even convinced Trip to come to movie night.

"Alright, it's settled, you're coming tonight, 0800. But, now you have to ask someone to join you," Malcolm suggested.

"Ohhh no," Trip replied. "Don't think I wanna get involved in the double dating scene. I said I would come, that's gonna have to do for now. Besides, just who would I ask?"

"It certainly will not do," Malcolm replied. "What about Hess? The two of you get on rather well."

"Naw, too much like my sister; besides she's on my staff."

"Well, you could ask Cutler. She's cute."

"C'mom Mal, it's not about being cute…"

"Oh, I see," Malcolm grinned. "It's about being a little more than just cute, right? It's about lips and eyes and cat suits!"

"What? Just what are you try-na say Lieutenant?" Trip said folding his arms and leaning back on his desk as he stared at Malcolm.

"Why don't you admit it? You fancy a certain Vulcan Science Officer. So ask her. After all she's got that nice bum, and she really is the beautiful one amongst women on this ship." Trip froze in his tracks. Beautiful One, Beautiful One, Beautiful One, is all he heard.

The Lisyrian Ship.

"Look at it," the big lion-like creature said. "Look at its eyes! Pretty isn't it!" Trip winced at the three large creatures staring down at him. He was on their ship, locked in a cell one minute, in their Captain's quarters the next. He had no idea what they were going to do to him. He had already been stripped down and hosed off like an animal, poked at and examined. It had been humiliating.

"What did I tell you Master Klegg," one of the creatures said. "We were going to skin it and serve it at your banquet, but it kept looking at me with those eyes, those beautiful eyes."

"It was wise of you not to kill it," the Captain said. "It would have been ignorant to eat such a rare thing. What is it called? Can it speak?"

"It could before we put his collar on him. The guards hit him in his throat."

"So it's male?' the Captain asked.

"Yes, the doctor confirmed it. What shall we do with it Master Klegg?

"Put him in with my personal collection."

"You mean the harem? You would like to mate with it?"

"Didn't you just say it was male?"

"So what?" the guard asked. Trip cringed, his fear level rising.

"Shut up!" Klegg shouted. "You are frightening him! If anyone is to frighten him it will be me!"

"Yes my Lord," the other creatures said bowing.

"I do not wish to eat him, nor mate with him. He is so small, fragile, and pretty. Surely such a creature was meant as a toy, a play thing," Klegg said as he rubbed Trip's face. Trip shuddered. "Take this, Beautiful One, and put him in the cage in the room with all my other most prized possessions. He will be my personal servant and companion. Give him 20 lashes first, his first lesson in discipline. But do not, under any circumstances, harm that lovely face, now go!"

From that day forward, Trip was known as "Beautiful One." He hated it, he hated them, and he hated himself. He should have found a way to escape, or had the courage to end it all. But being bound and chained inside a cage by night, clad with leg irons and shackles by day, or being strapped to an experiment table in a lab, left little opportunity for committing suicide.

Back in Engineering.

Trip was on the floor, curled up in a corner, screaming his head off. One minute he was talking to Malcolm about making a date for movie night, the next minute he was screaming. He banged his head against the wall and screamed at the top of his lungs. He would not let Malcolm get near him or touch him. Malcolm had called Phlox stating that there was a medical emergency in engineering. He had also called Captain Archer and told him to get to engineering immediately.

Phlox and Archer got to engineering at the same time. They almost bumped in to one another at the door. "Captain, please," Phlox spat out. Archer stepped aside and let Phlox enter first, he hurried in behind him. Trip was still in the corner screaming.

"Commander, Commander Tucker?" Phlox called out. Archer gasped at what he saw. Trip was holding a piece of glass from a broken padd in his hand. He had it gripped so tightly that blood was tricking down his hand and arm. There was also blood on the wall where he was banging his head.

"Commander, put the glass down. It's me, Dr. Phlox. Captain, talk to him," Phlox suggested. Archer moved closer toward his friend.

"Commander," he called out! "Commander Tucker, Trip!" Suddenly Trip stopped screaming. He gasped for air, jumped to a sitting position on the floor and begin to look around the room as if he just realized where he was. He looked up at Archer, Phlox and Malcolm still gasping for air.

"C'mon Trip, put it down," Archer said in a calming voice. "Give me the glass, c'mon, give it to me. You're alright Trip, no one is going to hurt you," Archer said reaching for the piece of glass. Trip looked at his bleeding hand, then looked back up at Archer. He slowly reached his hand out and gave Archer the shard. Phlox hurried over and bent down beside the engineer.

Archer handed the shard to Malcolm, who disposed of it. Phlox examined Trip's hand and his bleeding head. He then ran his scanner over him.

"Blood pressure's sky high, lymphatic system is overloaded, and his heart rate is accelerated. We need to get him to sick bay immediately." Trip suddenly fell over, unconscious. Archer and Phlox grabbed him before he hit the floor.

"Lt. Reed, get two medics down here with a stretcher right away, "Phlox said taking control of the situation. Captain, can you clear the area? The Commander would not want his people to see him like this." Archer nodded, and moved outside of Trip's office.

"Listen, all of you," Archer shouted to the crowd that had gathered outside of Trip's office. "I want everyone to get back to work, right now. And I don't want to hear a word of this outside these walls. That's your CO in there, and he's not at his best right now. He's been through a lot and it's going to take some time for him to get back on track. So, if you care anything about him, if you have any respect for him, do not repeat anything that happened here today, that's an order. If I find out that anyone has discussed this incident with anyone else on this ship, you will answer to me! Now clear this area and get back to work."

Archer had been a little more forceful than he had meant to be, but he didn't want this all over the ship. He and Malcolm watched as the medics removed the Commander from his office, Phlox following close behind.

"What the hell happened Malcolm?" Archer asked. "I told you to check on him; how did he end up in hysterics!"

"Captain, I tell you we were chatting, laughing even. He had agreed to come to movie night. One minute we were talking and laughing, the next he was balled up in the corner screaming and trying to defend himself with that piece of glass. I swear Captain, I don't know what triggered that reaction." Malcolm looked so bewildered and concerned that Archer pulled his anger in.

"I'm sorry Malcolm. I'm sure it wasn't your fault. I want you to stay down here until this shift ends, make sure everyone keep their mouths shut and ensure that Lt. Hess can handle things. I'm heading to sick bay."

"Aye Captain," Malcolm replied, then set off to find Hess.

Sick Bay.

Captain Archer paced the floor of sick bay backwards and forwards waiting for Phlox to stabilize his friend and talk to him. He shook his head trying to figure out how he could help Trip.

"Captain," Phlox said as he closed the curtain behind him glancing back at the bio-bed where Trip lay. Archer stopped pacing and looked up.

"I thought you said he was ready to return to duty at least half time doctor. What the hell happened?"

"As you recall Captain, it was not I, but you who insisted that Commander Tucker be allowed to try and return to work. I agreed, reluctantly, against my better judgment." Archer sighed. He knew Phlox was right. The doctor had not wanted Trip to return to duty, but Archer had fought him and insisted that they let him try, just to see how things went.

"Captain, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is a very difficult thing to treat. Until this is under control, he is going to have flashbacks that will render him non-functional. While I am a licensed psychiatrist, I have no experience in treating this disorder in a human. I am doing all I can, but it does not seem to be enough."

"There has to be something more you can do; something we all can do to help him. You know he's requested to leave the ship. He doesn't think he's fit for duty."

"He's not Captain, we both know that he is not, nor may ever be again."

"I can't just give up on him Phlox. I've gotta find a way to help him."

"He needs to go home Captain. You can't help him, not this time. He needs professional help, long term professional help."

"Can't you set him up with a Starfleet doctor via telecom? That could help, right?"

"Perhaps, but..." Phlox started to say.

"Look, we're scheduled to return home in two months. Once there we'll be on shore leave for three more months. Why send him home now? Its eight weeks, eight weeks doc. A lot can happen in eight weeks." Phlox looked at Captain Archer and blew out a long sigh.

"Very well Captain, eight weeks. I will agree that Commander Tucker can stay aboard until we return home in eight weeks. That is if he agrees to treatment, no exceptions. But, he is off duty until further notice, those are my terms."

"Fair enough," Archer conceded holding up his hands. "Fair enough."