A/N: Ah, I see I'm not the only one who wanted to toss Archer through an airlock after that final scene! For all of you hoping that he goes through his own hell for his actions - well, I hope you won't be disappointed. For both him and Trip, there's plenty more angst on the way!

For Jon at least, it starts in this chapter. I've also popped in a reference for two more of my favourite episodes.

Thanks again for these very kind reviews, they're all much appreciated!

Aftermath

Chapter Three - Hide And Seek

If Trip Tucker was its needle, the ship he knew like the back of his hand was one hell of a haystack. Like a human blueprint, he knew all her nooks, her tiniest crannies. Every conceivable hiding place.

Jon wished he could appreciate it now, but it was a long running joke between them. Trip had started it, of course, by saying he'd so often gone where no engineer had gone before. Crawling through her maze of innards, he'd joyously grinned, left him happier than a hog in a mudpit.

And in times of hostile invasion, his ability to strike back out of nowhere had been, and still was, a priceless advantage. Those who'd tried had found out, the hard way, that one puny human was still one hell of a force to be reckoned with. Enterprise was Trip Tucker's pride and joy, his baby. And God help anyone who dared to threaten her.

The smile from this memory soon faded, though, as Jon closed the latest vent that he'd been searching. The sly guile that had saved his ship more times than he could count was now working against him.

As he knew, all too well, Charles Tucker III had all sorts of surprises up his neatly zippered sleeves. Beneath the 'aww, shucks, ma'am…' charm lay a will of steel, with a resourceful streak to match. From shimmying through access tubes to disabling sensors, Trip knew all the tricks in the book. If he didn't want to be found, Jon knew there was little, if anything, that he could do about it.

All he had to go on was years of closest friendship, and simple instinct on where Trip might be.

Logic that T'Pol would commend him for had taken him to the most obvious places first. When his hail at Trip's quarters had yielded no response, he'd gone to plan B. Security override. Finding them empty hadn't surprised him, yet he'd still had to tell himself not to over react. Even if he had to take up Malcolm's offer of 'covert assistance' to do it, he would find him.

Then he'd seen the row of photo frames, still lying where Trip had placed them. Face down, so he couldn't see them. All the people he loved. In his tortured mind, so they couldn't see him. And all of Jon's reasoned calm had flown straight out the nearest airlock. Any hope-driven doubts he'd had over his friend's intentions ended in that moment. And time, a commodity already in scant supply, was fast running out.

Ten seconds later, Malcolm Reed received the call that he'd been expecting all morning. With typical calm, he quietly excused himself from the Bridge. If T'Pol, or Hoshi, or Travis, suspected there was anything more to it than 'a meeting he'd forgotten with the Captain…' then they weren't about to show it.

Even with Malcolm's help, though, Jon's already fading optimism soon threatened to disappear as completely as his chief engineer. Engineering itself? To the confusion of his teams, no sign of him. The gym, where Trip always came to let off stressful steam? The same. That went for the mess hall, too, and a subtly casual check around sickbay. And for everyone who saw him in those places, from Ensign Kelsey, to Ethan Novakovich and Elizabeth Cutler, and finally a quietly concerned doctor – well, Jon had made the same assurance to all four of them, through the calmest smile he could manage.

"No, it's fine. I, uh, guess he's tinkering up a vent somewhere, out of comms range."

From there, he'd searched everywhere he could think of with increasing urgency, and rising dismay. With each minute that passed, the rift between them threatened to come to an unthinkable conclusion. He had to find him, though. For where that tortured conscience was leading him, he had to find him

The thought of what might happen if he didn't was one that Jon couldn't bring himself to consider. And what to say when he did find him? That thought brought out a wry, humourless smile. Yeah, he could just imagine how the first contact they'd had in six days was likely to go.

'Hey, Trip, how's it going?'

'Oh, peachy, Cap'n! Yeah, I caused an innocent life form to kill itself. How 'bout you? Oh, and I'm cracking up because of it. Thinkin' of doing the same. Thanks so much for noticing.'

And there it was. The crux, the moment that he now wished he could return to, and act on so differently. Horrified by what he'd done, Trip had stood there in his ready room, and made a whispered plea for forgiveness.

'Cap'n?'

That single word had conveyed such despair. So much anguish. All he'd had to do was respond to it. Even if it was to say he was still too furious to talk, all he'd had to do was to just turn around. But no. The Captain in him had remained unmoved. High up on his moral high horse, he'd kept his rank in place, his back unturned.

His closest friend abandoned, like an unwanted dog tied to a gate.

Thinking back on it now, Jon was regretting that decision, more than his conscience could allow. As the search for his friend approached its second hour, it overwhelmed him, in helpless frustration.

"Damn it, Trip! Where the hell are you?"

Unless he was planning to fly out of the hatch above him, Jon knew his plea would go unanswered. In each of the four directions that he could see, the hallways around him were completely empty. There was no-one around who were going to answer him, and… what?! What the hell?!

\Listen, Captain, to what he once told you… you know where he is… just listen…/

Not sure now if he wasn't the one who was cracking up, Jon's eyes then widened in puzzled relief – memories of one of Trip's most candid admissions bringing him the break he now needed to find him. Huddled in blankets, he'd smiled up from his bed in sickbay, and dryly faced his own mortality.

'Had some pretty close calls, Cap'n, but… hell, never thought I'd die drunk in a freezing Shu'lepod.'

From a combination of dread and relief, Jon leaned for support against the wall. Out of nowhere, he'd been given inexplicable help. He wasted no time in making the most of it, and the equally vital help that would come from the other end of a hastily agreed security channel.

"Malcolm, I think I've found him. As discreetly as you can, keep everyone away from the launch bay."

"Aye, sir. Standing by."

Smiling at the 'Just find him, sir…' that silently followed, Jon set off towards the launch bay, compelled by fresh hope and urgency to break into a quickening run. Pausing outside its doors, he headed instinctively towards the 'pod closest to them. Shuttlepod One, where his chief engineer and tactical officer had downed a bottle of Bourbon between them, and come damn close to freezing to death. As Trip had said himself, the last place in the world where he'd expected his life to end.

With relief and apprehension for what he might find now inside it, he then gently opened its hatch – astonished himself by how calmly he reacted to a pale, haggard face, and two haunted blue eyes.

"Hey, Trip. Mind if I join you?"